#sink into a crack in the wall or something let it consume me

[calamitoustide]

these walls scream how much of a failure i really am

[im-poe-dameron]

NO LIGHT

a/n: wake up babes a new sith dropped and he's ridiculously hot. <- i wrote that when the episode dropped. and it's taken me a bit to finish. really i got this done out of pure spite, because what the fuck do you mean we're not going to see him again. expect tons more for this man from me and feel free to scream in the inbox cause if there's one thing that will remain, i am down bad for a sith. and all i could say while writing was: i can make him worse. this is the prequel fic to darkness within.

summary: jedi were the light, the path to good in a galaxy draped in darkness. he never called himself a title you'd grown accustomed to. a life that you'd been thrust into as a child. when doubts arise and beliefs shift, you find yourself entrapped in what you were taught to fight against.

word count: 8k

pairing: qimir (darth teeth) x jedi!f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS THIS AIN'T FOR YOU, corruption arc, enemies to lovers, but let's be honest it's more hate fucking, violence, he shows mercy, an unhinged villain obsessed with his lover, biting sort of, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), bad ending if you view it that way.

"The dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural."

There was no name for them spoken aloud in the temples. No title for them to wield with pride as the Jedi did theirs. An armor they strapped to their chests before they carried the weight of the word knight. History was not a lesson to be taught, nor overlooked. Yet The Great War still remained fleeting in classes of the past. As if they willed each generation to forget.

You could feel your mouth form around the letters. The quick biting word that solidified in your heart, breaking open your armor the longer you thought about it. It sounded familiar. Each letter a hiss, as poison dripped between your lips. And you wracked your brain trying to remember where you'd heard it before, why the title came with flashes of memories long forgotten and feelings locked away.

Sith.

The darkness that lingered beneath what light the Jedi spread. A plague waiting to be brought forth and wrought upon the galaxy. Yet in the cracks of that obsidian void, you caught sight of a power that still remained. One not even the Jedi could detect within their midst, and yet you somehow latched on to what you found. The glimpse of his abilities far greater than anything you could ever achieve.

Images of his smile as you fought him alongside the people who trained you; those who didn't come home. How he held his lightsaber with the assurance of a man who'd done this before. Who trained in the same halls you did—who followed a path of light before sinking down to the depths of nothingness. He nearly killed you, held your life in his hands, yet his eyes flashed the second you began to fight back.

To show what you'd been hiding beneath the wall they taught you to built. The blockade which kept each emotion, each fear, trapped in your own mind.

You lashed at him with a fervor that scared you. With an anger that nearly consumed you.

And he smiled.

Questions ran rampant in your mind, yet no matter how hard you searched. No matter how far back you looked in the Temple records, there were no answers. The Sith seemed to have vanished from sight and wiped from existence. As if they never existed in the first place. You thought that something might arise, a piece of the past someone forgot to bury, but each time you looked the quicker you realized that this was done on purpose.

The Jedi cleansed the galaxy of evil—yet in doing so created the path for them to return without notice.

Since returning, you found yourself unable to sleep. When the possibility finally arose and you gave into the pleas of your body, his face returned with a vengeance. The smile that refused to leave you. The intrigue that crossed his eyes as he finally found your weak spot—the one thing that broke you. He fought you to survive at first, but as it continued, you suddenly felt like he was testing you. Attempting to figure out what made you tick, what would eventually make you fall.

You ignored whoever lingered in the hallways of the temple, their greetings falling on deaf ears, as you rushed to the training rooms. Night was cresting on the horizon of Coruscant and where you expected to be alone, you were surprised to find people still awake.

Apparently the attack left some Knights on edge. Including you.

"Maker," you gasped, pressing a hand to your stomach—a rush of nausea rolling through your body like a wave.

Whoever he was—whatever he was—he stuck to your mind like a fungi. Growing and feeding off your thoughts; finding joy in the depths of your head. You longed to claw him out, rip him to pieces until that calm serenity of peace finally returned. Until you felt like yourself again.

The room was thankfully empty, save for a few moved seats here and there. You gathered what control you had left on your emotions, practically collapsing onto the floor, each breath a gasp for the familiar Coruscant air. From what you were taught, meditating would help to ease your mind. Or at least assist in making sense of what you encountered, what knowledge you managed to accrue.

"I am one with the Force," you muttered. The words slipped off your tongue with ease, the memory of being a youngling in this very temple returning with a flash. It remained an old saying Masters told their Padawans when they first begin training. A reminder that while you may be powerful, while you may wield it to your own rhythm, you were surrounded and made from it. "And the Force is with me."

Your breathing slowed, eyes falling shut, and you allowed the room to fall away. You sought what lingered in between the liminal space of your mind and the world around you. Teal flickered on the edge of your vision as the darkness began to take shape—morph into something familiar. Cold licked down your spine, causing the hair to stand on the back of your neck, and suddenly you weren't sitting in the Jedi Temple anymore.

Ancient symbols surrounded you, carving that were set into stones older than you. Sucking in a sharp breath, you scrambled to your feet, your hand reaching for your hip—for the lightsaber that wasn't there. Night was all you could see through the cracked open ceiling; the ruins of what you guessed to be an ancient temple. One before the time of the Jedi you knew on Coruscant.

"Tragic isn't it."

You whirled around, eyes wide as the darkness you believed to be empty, began to bleed away. A figure cloaked in black stepped forward. Only this time...he wore no helmet, no mask to hide his signature and the thoughts that surged through your mind. He gave you the freedom to find what he was, to see beyond the boundaries set by the Jedi.

"W-Who are you?" you asked, your voice echoing off the stone walls and reverberating loudly in your own mind.

He smiled, the very look shoving every emotion you fought to keep at bay to the forefront of your thoughts. "I think you already know the answer to that question."

You gulped in another breath. "Sith."

"So they haven't wiped away that memory entirely." He breathed a soft laugh to himself, taking a few steps forward. "I'm surprised by that."

"Surprised..." Your eyebrows pulled together, body going tense with each step he took. "Did they have that information before?"

His smile only grew, the haze in his brown eyes flashing a burnt yellow for the briefest of moments. "Once." His hand reached out, as if to grasp yours, but this was merely in your head. A projection of his energy and yours. Perhaps that's why you relaxed, why you didn't flinch when his Force signature began to twine with yours. Perhaps that's why you let your guard down. "When I was a Jedi."

"You were a Jedi?" you exclaimed, reeling back. "That's not-"

"Possible?"

The echo of his steps rang through the air, stifling the air from your lungs. He walked like a predator. Yet held the stance of someone who couldn't care less about what you wanted, what you might do to him. He gave you his back with ease and didn't blink twice when your hand twitched to the nonexistent weapon at your side. You began to wonder if he brought you here without it on purpose—if he knew that deep down...you wouldn't hesitate to kill him if given the chance.

"Don't you find it remarkable?" His question threw you off guard as you turned to keep up with his slow prowl.

"Where are we?"

He ignored you. "The Jedi spent so long fighting the Sith. They nearly lost. And yet...no trace of that history remains."

"There's no point to this-"

Stopping a few feet away, he assessed you with a tilt of his head, eyes scrutinizing your very being. "There's always a point. Because despite their grand powers and promises, they are doomed to repeat history."

"Lies," you spit, eyes burning a hole through him.

"The Jedi will fall," he began, coming closer until his face was mere inches from your own. You attempted to step back, to remove yourself from the warmth that bled off his body in waves. But you were stuck—forced to keep still as he finished. "It's in their nature to believe they won't. But they will. One day." His hand reached up, palm cupping your cheek and for a moment...you felt the gentle caress of his touch. "Do you really want to be a part of that?"

"Let me go."

He sighed, eyes falling to your lips without shame. "I can't do that."

"You brought me here. All to tell lies." You sucked in a shuddering breath. "You can let me go-"

"I didn't bring you here," he replied, his lips curling into another grin. "I don't know how...but you found me."

"Found you where?"

His faint touch vanished as he stepped back with a sigh dripping in disappointment. As if you'd confirmed his worst fears. "Ashas Ree."

The planet's name sounded familiar—somewhere on the outer rim. And for a mere moment, you accepted his words as truth. That he didn't call you to this place, but you in fact found yourself here. Yet all it did was open a door you couldn't close. It would give way to the chaos in your mind, to the feelings that begged to run rampant in your heart. That alone would tear you to pieces and you'd have no way to put yourself back.

He leaned in once more, lips a hairsbreadth from your own, and smiled gleefully when you gasped. Your eyes wide and body falling back. Only for him to catch you—his arm a vice around your waist as his hand went to your face, keeping you still.

His touch should have terrified you—sent trills of fear through your body—and yet...you found a piece of something softer underneath his mask of danger. Though he may have turned to the dark side, the part of him that remained a Jedi still existed in the depths of his heart.

With reluctance, you came to the understanding that he wouldn't cause you any harm.

That isn't what he wanted from you.

"I'll see you soon...Jedi."

With a gasp, you collapsed, your head slamming against the temple floor as your eyes flew open. Pain bled into your skull, vision black spotted and hazy, yet you still scrambled to your feet. Your robes caught on your legs, twisting around your body. The beat of your heart echoed loudly in your ears—his face, his voice, still prominent in your mind.

He was a scar on your heart, a reminder that no matter how much you fought against his will, you would never win.

So you ran.

The temple cleared out during the night as you sprinted through the halls, your breath quick and stunted with each slam of your boots against the sleek floor. You weren't sure how long you'd spent with him. How much time passed as you did your best to ignore his advances—to gauge what exactly had to be done. Given that you now knew where he was.

Ashas Ree. A planet taught, yet never visited.

It didn't occur to you to ask why. What was there that made the Jedi wish to ignore it's existence altogether. What had they left behind?

Slowing to a halt, you found yourself stuck between two paths. Each hallway dimly lit and bathed in shadows. You held a choice within your hands. One that could change the trajectory of the Jedi if you were able to succeed. You could forget this instance happened, continue on with being a Knight, and leave this man to someone else.

Or you could find him.

The possibility of putting an end to this problem tasted sweet on your tongue. Yet you couldn't deny the true reason for going.

Curiosity would one day be be the end of you. A saying your master told you repeatedly as you put him through every type of worry he could endure—your need to know more outweighing the logic of whether you should.

The strength he exhibited on Khofar nearly brought you to your knees, his power a force to be reckoned with. Yet there you stood, considering the option of taking him on by yourself. It would conclude with your death—you understood this. Somehow that still wasn't enough to stop you from taking the left path towards the hangar. That alone couldn't deter you from a path already carved by the Force.

A sleek muted gray ship was housed in the corner. You couldn't recall who it belonged to, nor did you find it in yourself to care. Whatever this vision procured—the emotions that began to bleed into your heart with a heady and restless need—there was no fighting against it. The steps taken would lead to an unknown future; a consequence that not even you could see through the Force.

What began would eventually end.

Yet how it would play out remained shrouded in darkness.

Flicking familiar switches and pressing buttons through muscle memory, you felt yourself begin to slide back to your mind. The hum of the ship jumping into hyperspace gave you a moment of silence to converge over your thoughts. To focus on your own Force signature that spread around you with ease.

The teal felt familiar enough to sink down into its depths with a sigh. You shut your eyes, hands falling to your lap, as you allowed yourself to step forward into the darkness. Until you felt it begin to creep up your body—chills spreading down your spine and curling around your stomach.

You expected to be faced with a wall of fear; horrors unlike those you'd seen before. Surprise filled your chest as an image began to take shape—a memory that didn't belong to you.

He sat on the floor of the Jedi Temple. His eyes closed, hands resting on his knees, and hair tied up into a bun that nearly fell free. The black robes he wore with pride were gone, traded for a familiar set of light beige Jedi robes, a perfect match for the ones you wore now.

"You're not focused."

The voice...you'd heard her before. The sharp tone of concise words teaching younglings to train until they reached a level of perfection you only dreamed of obtaining.

Soft brown robes flowed around him as she stalked in a circle. Yet no matter how far you pried, how much you attempted to clear the image, her face refused to form. As if he was merely letting you see a hint of his past. Of the man that once existed in the same place you did. Warmth pooled in your body at that thought; he wanted you to understand him, to see that perhaps you weren't as different as you believed.

"You must feel the Force. Not simply think about it."

He sighed, shifting his body—hair falling free around his face. "I am thinking Master."

"If that were true then I wouldn't be able to see in your mind. Try again."

You stepped closer, lowering yourself to sit across from him—your eyes focused on the furrow of his brows, the way his body tensed. Agitation spread along his form, growing by the second, until you saw it begin to take shape in his mind. Peace didn't come easy. Not when he felt the conflict that plagued his heart, the beliefs he once held true and firm now a distant memory.

Without realizing it, you leaned forward, and pressed your hands atop his. Hoping that in some way, he might feel the soft light of your energy—the warmth of a Jedi's presence willing to help him.

"What do you see?" she asked.

He let out a breath, expression softening. "A...Jedi."

"Good. Who?"

"I...don't know."

"Try harder."

Frustration began to cloud his thoughts, his hands clenching into fists on his legs, and just as you reached for him again, you felt it. The sharp tug of fear against your heart. As if he'd stabbed you with his blade. His eyes flew open, a ragged breath tearing from his throat. You backed away, hands falling to your lap as you awaited the memory to keep going—to see what came next.

Only for him to meet your gaze and see you.

Pain sliced through your head, invading your body as his eyes narrowed perceptively. And you cried out, hands clutching your face, nails scraping against your skin. Maybe if you dug hard enough you'd be able to get him out of your head. You would remove any part of him that weeded through your thoughts, past every wall you'd placed to protect what secrets you held. He picked at your wounds and for a moment you wondered if he held a knife in his hand.

"S-Stop," you forced out past gritted teeth and clenched fists.

"You're not supposed to be here."

Sucking in a sharp breath, you shut your eyes to the image of him, to the vision that must have projected from his own mind. He didn't want you to bear witness to his past. A version of him that once believed in the light, that once hoped he could help the galaxy.

"No," you muttered, shoving him from your mind. But to no avail did it work. He was insistent, angry at knowing you could breach him so easily.

"The power you hold. It will destroy you."

"You don't..." Your nails sliced through the skin of your palm, blood welling to the surface within seconds as you fought against his hold. "You don't know anything."

Though you couldn't see him...you felt his smile. The pleasure he gained simply from finding the weakest point in your mind and running with it. Your power, your strength. For so long you'd feared what you might become, what your abilities could manifest into. Yet they remained a mere figment of your worst nightmares, a reality that may never come to pass.

Meeting him changed that.

He knew it the second he saw you.

"You're scared you won't be able to control it. The darkness you don't show the others."

"Lies," you hissed, beating against the walls he created as he wreaked havoc within your own mind.

"Tell me...does your former Master know you're on your way to me?"

Your heart leapt to your throat, fear numbing every ability you once possessed to fight back. To keep him at bay. No matter how much you wanted to argue, to claim he was wrong, you could feel the truth ring in the back of your mind.

No one knew you were speaking to him. No one knew you'd left.

No one would know why you may never come back.

His laughter echoed through you, burning a hole in your chest large enough for the darkness to seep through.

"Thrilling isn't it? Playing against their rules."

Perhaps if you dug far enough, you could rip the tendrils of him from your mind. Pieces that threatened to ruin you. The darkness promised freedom, yet you could see the repercussions of your actions played out before you like a story already written. Accepting the bittersweet taste of something so tenuous would leave you broken by the end of it. You'd be a shell of the Jedi you grew to become.

A person unwilling to fight back.

"You want me weak." The ship rumbled as you began to claw your way out of his mind and back into yours; the show of your strength echoing through the Force. "You want me to say yes because you know that if I fight back...you won't win."

Whatever retort he had died on the tip of his tongue when your ship left hyperspace—ripping you back to the waking world. You fell back on your elbows with a gasp, eyes zeroing in on the planet directly in front of you. One that you'd seen before. Perhaps it was in a dream, a memory not of your own, but the landscape looked familiar.

Signs of life were sparse—scattered further from where he resided—and part of you felt grateful. If this concluded in a battle you didn't want to be the cause of an innocent's death. The Jedi could never know you came here. The consequences alone would lead you to be cast out of the Order with nowhere else to go.

The ground shook as you landed; the hiss of the door echoed out into the empty clearing. You expected to see wildlife within the thicket of trees that surrounded you. All that showed itself was the glow of the moon above. Illuminating the path carved into the grass by people that came before. You could see the structure ahead—it's grand entrance towered over you, becoming one with the stars that hung above.

Jedi once walked these grounds. Their energy practically hummed in your veins the closer you came to stepping foot on the stone floors. Carvings of old symbols still remained—placed there by a Republic that no longer existed.

An era of Jedi you'd only heard stories of.

The history of the Olde Republic wasn't unknown to the Jedi that existed today. You understood their practices, the ways they viewed the Force. Part of them were lost to the war when they began to form the Order that still remained.

This place should be taught, visited, to keep the remaining legacy of what came before alive. This was the history you wanted to know—a past you could almost picture in your mind.

Stepping into the temple, you felt the energy before you saw it. A constricting echo of nothing that slammed against your chest with a brutality you'd witnessed once before. Gasping, you nearly fell to your knees as the obsidian nature of his Force signature began to seep into the ground. Fighting against it felt futile as it clambered over your body—sinking into your skin. Into the very fiber of your being.

"It's quite beautiful." His voice resonated in the small circular temple.

You sucked in a sharp breath, hands slamming to the cold stone floor—your knees collapsing beneath you. "What the fuck is this place?"

Controlled steps echoed behind you, his black robes brushing the ground as he stopped mere feet away. "The past your Jedi have chosen to hide."

"This is-" Your chest tightened, air sucked from your lungs at the feeling of his power laying above you—crushing you to the ground. "No Jedi temple."

He crouched, head tilted and eyes bleeding with a curiosity he held in the forest. "You continue to defend them, even when you know they haven't told you everything."

Attempting to reach for your lightsaber felt as if you were traveling through sand. It swallowed you whole. Ate at your insides and begged for more. You couldn't see past his power, past the darkness that formed over your body. He could have killed you like this; helpless and weak to his own weapon.

Why he never did is what filled your mind; the same mind screaming for a reprieve from what lay beneath the stone. What called out to you in screeching tones.

"Long before you and I walked this galaxy, this temple was created to hide the powers of what they considered dark and unnatural." He left you to lay on the floor, your back against a symbol you recognized. "They built this above a Sith temple to wipe their existence from history."

"The Sith followed the darkside of the Force," you spit between gritted teeth and tensed muscles. Your body was on fire and yet no one had lit the flame. "They wanted to destroy the galaxy."

Though you couldn't see it, you knew his lips curved into a grin. "Why do you have so much faith in an Order that would do the same to you if they knew where you were?"

Anger fueled your actions, gave you the strength to fight against whatever bonds he created against your body. With a piercing scream, your lightsaber hit the palm of your hand, igniting as you scrambled to your feet. He stood with his back to you—entirely aware yet uncaring of how you struggled against his hold. How the darkness began to seep its way to your heart.

You'd never felt this before.

The anger.

The hatred.

The Jedi taught you to quell that part of yourself before it had a chance to rise up. For so long you allowed their teachings to define you. To put a barrier between peace and bitter anguish. And you held that wall up with pride—with the knowledge that you could center yourself at a moments notice.

Yet he managed to tear it all down within one day.

"Good," he replied, his voice a soft rasp that penetrated the wave of emotions which sought to consume you. "Feel it. The anger."

"I am a Knight of the Jedi Order-" Raising your blade, you felt the hum of it sear against the side of your face. "And I am here to enact my duty."

The familiar echo of his blade coming to life—red illuminating the walls before him—sent a thrill of fear down your spine. One he could no doubt feel through the Force. You weren't scared to die. This had been ingrained in your mind since the day the Jedi found you. No, you felt at ease knowing this fight could only end one way.

You were scared of what might become of you if you slipped beneath the might of his powers.

"You have the strength of the old ways." He turned, brown eyes gleaming crimson as he advanced. "But your duty will be your end."

You felt the wall shatter within your mind—pieces crashing to the ground—as you leapt at him. Blades crashed together, lighting up the night with sparks of teal and red. And you felt how much he held back in the forest. He didn't want to kill you then; the way you called to his intrigue kept him from slicing his lightsaber down your spine.

Tonight you could see the difference. The strength he held back within his body.

A swipe of his blade nearly knocked yours from your hand, but the foot you landed to his leg kept you upright. He barely stumbled, regaining his stance with an agility you'd only seen in the Jedi Temples. You lunged again, aiming for his shoulder only to be knocked out of the way. He shoved you back with the Force—grinning at the sight of you enraged.

"You were a Jedi." A crack echoed in the night air as you landed a hit to his saber. "And you betrayed them."

"Betrayal." He spun, circling you as if you were marked prey. "I was cast aside as you will be. I did not betray the Jedi. I chose differently and they didn't accept that."

"You chose the path to darkness." Something sparked down your spine—foreign in its nature. Yet no matter how much you tried to pinpoint its origin, you came up blank.

"Desire," he replied, lips twitching when your eyes went wide. "The emotion you're fighting."

"Stay out of my head."

He took a step towards you—the hum of his lightsaber electrifying the air. "You're confused why you're feeling that way. You shouldn't be."

"Stop-"

"I can answer your questions." The palm of his hand reached for you—offering his touch. Promising peace in spite of the anger you felt. "If you'd like."

Fear seized in your chest and you stumbled back; your saber raised as your last line of defense. "Desire is the path to the darkside."

"And yet you feel it." The closer he stood, the more you felt his pull. A whispered promise tinged with the lust of more; the want for knowledge overshadowed by the truth of his beliefs. "You should feel all they make you push down. I can see that's what you want. Let me show you how."

Temptation ate away at your heart, claiming you in ways you'd never felt before. Yet the dread of what you'd been taught began to strike. Rearing in your mind with a vengeance that overtook what he offered. You flinched, eyes narrowed and hands gripped tightly onto your lightsaber as he took another step.

"No!" Your hand flew out, a push of strength bursting free. He slid back, his hand slamming to the ground to keep himself from falling.

That's when you saw it. His patience snapped, anger breaching the otherwise calm exterior he attempted to give you. This was the Sith that lay beneath his seduction. The man you caught glimpses of in your mind. He surged forward, saber striking down against yours hard enough to rattle your bones. Each hit felt as if you were battling something stronger—older.

You could feel the weariness in your body as you blocked and parried as often as you could. Spinning on your heel, you fell to one knee as he struck down a blow that resonated against the stone. Cracking it along the grooves of the center.

There was no mercy in how he battled. No offering of penance. He was your executioner come to life—the promise of death quick to fall from his tongue as he placed you in a corner.

He dragged you forward with a pull of the Force, crimson clashing with teal as you blocked his strike. And pride swelled in your chest at the sight of the frustration that crossed his face. This was not a fight as quick to the death as Khofar was. You would battle until your final breath and he seemed to realize that the longer you went.

"You die here today," you spit, struggling against his weight.

Pain sliced through your side, burning its way through your body as his lips pulled at the corners. Eyes alight in a way you'd never seen. He was amused by your fight—your willingness to die for the Jedi's beliefs. Yet you did the one thing everyone fell for on Khofar.

You underestimated him.

Yanking the small red blade from your side, he watched your face fall. Fear lacing your heart with a poison that held no antidote. This would be where you would have your last moment. The place he'd leave you to rot. But unlike what came before, he caught you in his hold, lowering you gently to the ground—his hand reaching to cup your face.

"You're afraid," he murmured, thumb tracing the top of your cheek. "You don't want to die."

Whether he could see it painted across your face or find it in your thoughts, the truth remained the same. You didn't want your story to end here. You couldn't fathom a death so small compared to what you'd been raised to believe. Jedi's were warriors. They were the protectors of the light; the keeper of peace.

Yet there you were, withering in the darkness and begging for hope.

"Let me in." His hand slid down to your gaping wound—pressing it gently even as you cried out in pain. "I can help you."

"You'll kill me." Even when you spoke, you understood the gravity of your situation.

He offered you salvation—safety within his hands—and yet you were willing to die. Teachings of your past suddenly felt minuscule as you stared death in the face. This would not be peaceful; you could feel the ravages of your injury begin to seep through your body. And he watched while you grappled with a choice that may very well set the path of your future.

Let me see your darkness. Let me help you control it.

His voice soothed the calamity in your veins. His touch a caress against your open robes—his skin hot against yours.

The look on his face—the clarity in his gaze—may be why you finally relented. Why you nodded slowly, fear traveling through every inch of your already broken body. He watched you with a desire that you'd only read about in stories. A feeling you'd pushed away at every waking moment. One that haunted you like the ghosts of this temple.

"Please," you breathed, hand clutching his robes.

Shifting you higher, he bent his head—his palm covering your wound—and pressed his lips to yours. Electricity streaked down your spine the moment you felt his kiss. His mouth was firm, yet soft in their nature when he gripped you closer. You gasped into it, hand cupping his face as he breached your mind slowly—gently enough to make you look past the act.

Until you felt it.

The warmth that bloomed beneath your skin when your body began to stitch itself together. He pushed the Force of his life through your veins—seeping it slowly into your heart. His thoughts melded with yours, memories of a past you never lived filtered through your mind. But he remained firm and solid in the way he kissed you. His tongue slipping past your parted lips to taste you, to take what he never got to on Khofar.

"I can give you more," he mumbled against your cheek, lips sliding along the curve of your jaw. "All that you want."

You would later blame his life Force, or the thoughts you were privy to. But the word yes slipped off your tongue with ease. A quickness that nearly left you startled.

This was forbidden. Every moment spent here would damn you to an eternity of punishment. Yet his touch felt delicious against your body as he pulled up your robes—spreading them open on the floor of the temple. You should have pushed him away. Dragged your lightsaber towards you and sunk it into his chest. And part of you wanted to.

Part of you ached to kill him.

Though no matter how hard you tried...you couldn't discern whether that stemmed from the throbbing heat between your legs. Or the violent echo in your heart.

His eyes caught your bleary gaze—pupils blown out and dark as he regarded you with a searing look you felt to your bones. "How do you want this?"

"I..." A burning heat spilled beneath the skin of your cheeks, spreading down to your chest. "I don't know," you whispered.

He smiled and you couldn't help but notice how he bared his teeth. Hunger etched on every line of his face. He liked that you were lost; that this was going to be the first and only time someone would touch you this way.

He suddenly felt the urge to claim you, call you his in every way that could exist within this galaxy.

Chalking it up to the ache in his body, he waited for your head to clear. "I can show you. Teach you."

A nod of your head set him off, he pulled at your pants until they pooled with the remainder of your robes. You lay bare beneath the moon—hands reaching to touch him—and felt that nothing this pleasurable should be wrong.

How could the Jedi claim a feeling like this as dark? How could having your needs be met be so horrendous to their beliefs?

With a gasp, you rose up on your elbows to watch him hoist your legs over the wide breadth of his shoulders. His fingers dug into the meat of your thighs—eyes fixed on the way you practically dripped onto the stone floor. You were given a second to breath before the oxygen was pulled from your lungs and his mouth sealed over your cunt.

"Maker!" Your body fell to the ground in a heap—head dazed as he laved his tongue between your slick folds with a need never shown before.

He groaned at your taste, the tang of you spread along his taste buds, and felt his body throb at the sight of you. So open, so willing to let him devour you whichever way he wanted.

The burning need from earlier began to build in your body, tightening along each muscle and pulling at your stomach. Your hand dug into his hair, fingers curling against his scalp as he sucked at your clit. And you had no choice but to moan—to let your sounds echo in the air and fall back down. If someone were to pass by they'd see you—hear you.

They'd bear witness to how you sank deeper into the darkness with a dazed smile on your lips.

A finger pushed at your entrance, curling into you slowly in search of something hidden within. You were wet—dripping down his hand—and he merely smiled into you. His tongue lapped against you as he sunk into you down to the knuckle. Dragging along your walls until your legs jolted—a cry ripping from your chest at the feeling of him brushing something devastating.

"There." Your head fell back, hips canting up into his face. "Yes. Fuck right there."

The wet echo of his fingers pounding into you drove you mad. He dragged you the brink with a merciless hand and you followed him with a gasped cry of bliss. Something broke within you—spreading through your body rapidly—as your legs shook and toes curled.

He groaned drunkenly into your cunt, eyes half lidded and cheeks stained the color of his lightsaber. You cried out when he sucked at your clit—curling his fingers mercilessly as lust clouded his vision. The unknown feeling you'd fought for so long began to eat at your body. Building along your spine, spreading through your stomach. Until you held no choice but to relent to its power.

"W-What's happening?" you whined, fingers tugging at his hair.

You weren't sure if you wanted to rip him away or keep him close.

The response you got was a heady moan muffled into your slicked thighs. Slick poured out of you, drenching the floor below. Your hips began to shift of their own volition—grinding against his mouth as you struggled for breath. For a semblance of peace against the war of pleasure that ripped you apart.

He sucked hard and the tension in your body snapped.

"F-Fuck!" you sobbed, thighs shaking and body bending off the floor.

Heat blinded you as white flashed behind your shut eyelids—a vibration unlike any you'd felt before now surging up and out of you. The stone floor cracked to the center; your strength sending a wave through the Force strong enough to break anything nearby.

He curled his arms around your legs, clamping down to keep steady. Even as the power rushed through him—tempted to shove him off and across the room. His tongue was a continued to lap at your entrance, drinking down every drop of that you fed into his open and waiting mouth. A broken moan ripped from your chest—body weary and sore—and yet you let him keep going.

Even as he licked until pain spliced up your stomach. A sharp discomfort you relished in.

"Tell me," he panted, climbing his way up your body—his lips trailing a wet line of kisses up your sternum. "Did the Jedi ever tell you about that?"

You grinned, hazy and languid in your newfound bliss. "I want more."

He smiled. "I can give you more."

Whatever convictions existed before you came here died in the back of your mind when his hips settled between yours. The heavy outline of his now hard cock was a firm press against your dripping cunt. It made you whimper. Made you needy. He watched you with glee in his eyes as you reached beneath his robes to feel him—the press your skin against his.

"Do you want it?" he asked softly, thrusting forward and tearing a moan from your throat.

"Yes," you gasped. "Please. I want it."

Moving your hands to rest above your head, he shifted his robes the best he could—the fabric soft against the inside of your thighs. You watched in rapture as he pulled his cock free; the sight of the red and leaking tip only serving to make your mouth water. The need from before now burning quicker. Brighter.

"Stay still," he murmured against your lips, stealing a kiss when you nodded.

Entirely at his will.

You felt him slide through your slick, coating himself with a raspy moan, before he pressed at your entrance. The head of his throbbing cock breaching you slowly. Stretching you with the slight flicker of pain. Only for him to push forward with a gritted moan. His forehead falling to yours as you gasped for air—for anything that might keep you latched to the surface of the planet.

"So perfect," he managed to bite out, his hips finally atop yours.

Your mouth fell open at how full you felt. How he pressed against your walls and carved a place for himself inside your body. Whatever path you might have taken before tonight vanished before your very eyes. This was always meant to be your future.

He is what you were led to.

"Okay?" His eyes met your blurry gaze—tears dripping down into your hair. "Speak to me love."

A ragged breath echoed in the temple. "'M good."

His lips curled up. "I'm going to move now."

"Will it hurt?" you asked, hesitancy lingering in your voice.

The grin bloomed into a smile as he shifted his hips back, thrusting into you slowly and striking against your walls. Pushing the spot he found before. Only this time the brief tendrils of pleasure burned through you like a roaring flame.

"Oh-"

"You like that don't you?" You nodded frantically, hands still obediently above your head. "Such a pretty thing. So willing."

"Yes," you whined, legs curling around his hips with each thrust.

The reverence from before slowly faded each time he plunged into your cunt. His groans muffled into the skin of your shoulder. He fucked you with a passion that would linger. A feeling you'd search for in the middle of the night—begging for the release you once had. His teeth scraped against your skin, fingers digging sharply into your hips, and you jolted when he shifted the angle.

Pounding down into you and pulling free sounds you'd never made before.

"All mine to have," he breathed against your cheek, lips catching yours in a messy kiss of teeth and tongue. "They would dare to throw away someone to perfect."

"Maker I'm gonna-" Your head fell back, eyes screwed shut as the tension began to build again.

"Yes," he gasped, cupping your ass to help your stunted movements. "Cum for me. Give me everything."

The pleasure eviscerated you. Slammed into your body with a vengeance and ripped every doubt you had about him from the very root up. He moaned against your chest as you came with a scream. Your thighs clamping around his and body curling up in search of his heat. A hand latched onto your back, holding you close, as you drenched his cock until it smeared on the inside of your thighs.

You couldn't find your way out of this maze. The darkness shrouded you in a layer of warmth—seeping into your body with ease. Yet that isn't what horrified you. That isn't what made the hair stand up on the back of your neck as he chased his own release.

What scared you was that you liked it.

You longed for it.

He came with a hoarse shout, spurting into you and filling you with warmth that you felt spread throughout your body. It consumed you. Welcomed you with a heady kiss and the promise of more. And you drank it down like the finest glass of wine.

The lingering echo of your Force signature still flickered in the background. You refrained from reaching for it. Content to remain in this river of peace that sank you down to the bottom.

His lips found yours, tongue sliding hotly into your open mouth. You returned his kiss with a fervor you didn't know you held. A wanting that now knew what the full extent of desire felt like. A need that would crave more.

"I-I liked it," you whispered against his lips. His cum slowly dripped out and around his softening cock. You yearned for him to show you again. "All of it."

"Good," he murmured. "There's so much more to show you."

"When?"

"Soon," he said, gathering you in his arms with a kiss to your forehead. "I promise my love. You'll know all of it."

You awoke to the echo of birdsong. The bright ray of sunlight blared down through the ceiling, turning the once cold stone beneath your skin hot. It burned you as you shifted, arm searching for the warmth of another that lay beside you.

Sometime in the night he began to tell you the history of what he knew. The people that once walked these temple floors. The Sith whose memory still echoed beyond time and space. This was their legacy. A path that you would soon take as your own. Yet the doubt of what it would cost still lingered at the edges of your mind; the reality you would soon have to face.

He would be hunted.

Sought out by the Jedi who would want revenge for what happened on Khofar. By joining him, you would be setting yourself up for a fate worse than death.

When your touch came up empty, your eyes fluttered open. Expecting him to be mediating somewhere nearby, you sat up still naked from hours before. A sore ache bloomed between your thighs, spreading down your legs. Each bite he placed on your skin remained tender to the touch, and you smiled at the memory they would incite.

"Hello?" you called, hoping to draw him back. To hopefully entice him for more.

Silence was all you were met with as you stood on shaky legs. Gathering your robe, you draped it around yourself—your lightsaber already clutched in your hand. You searched for his presence in the Force; picked through the life on this planet in the hopes of finding the one you recognized.

Only to be left with an empty voice.

An expanse of nothing.

Pain sliced through your heart, shattering a piece you didn't know existed. You watched it fall to the floor—breaking you open without mercy. Without forgiveness. What hope you had that he might find you again diminished as you gathered the rest of your robes and headed back to your ship still in the clearing. The truth of what occurred, now a solid belief in your mind.

Last night you offered yourself up to the darkside of the Force and this was your consequence.

To be left alone, waiting for your lovers return that would never come.

[chelseasdagger]

Teacher - Chapter II

Frank Castle x Inexperienced F!reader

Summary: You get invited to Frank's apartment again days after he gave you your first kiss. After a long makeout session, you rush to get to the bonfire and enjoy a night with your group of friends and even more of Frank's company

Warnings: age gap (reader is in her early 20s), cursing, drinking, dry humping, brief mentions of masturbation

Author's Note: It's finally here! I'm SO so sorry for the wait on this chapter! I've been working full time at my part time job and it's been crazy busy!! Thank you for being patient :) Oh! We have a taglist now, so if you want to be added, just let me know! As always, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated :) Leave a comment or shoot me an ask!! I'd love to hear what you think!

Word Count: 6.6k+

Previous Chapters: I

Ever since that afternoon when Frank gave you your first kiss, it’s all that’s consumed your mind. It’s been difficult to focus your attention anywhere that isn’t the image of his puffy lips, swollen from your kisses, that has been ingrained in your head. You’ve been spacing out more often—even softly tracing your lower lip with your finger to try and relive the memory of his tongue brushing your skin.

You’ve even let your mind wander off its leash at work. Your coworker rips you from your thoughts by calling your name and you look up with wide eyes. She smirks when she sees your frazzled expression and asks what’s on your mind. You flip through excuses in your brain before stumbling out an “It’s a good day?”

Your voice twists into a question at the end, obvious that even you weren’t sold on your words. She shoots a skeptical look your way before walking away from the front desk, leaving you to sit once again in your thoughts about Frank. Beams of sunlight pour through the glass windows at the front of the building and the heat on your face reminds you of his warm touch. You let your eyes close for a moment and you swear you can feel his long fingers curling behind your jaw.

Suddenly, a chime sounds out and your eyes shoot open, quickly facing the front door as you expect to be met with a client’s face. There’s not a single person in sight though, and you glance down at your phone and see its illuminated screen. There’s an alert on the display and as you pick it up to unlock it, you notice it’s from your close friend.

“I’m picking you up at 6 right?”

Your eyebrows pull together, trying to remember the topic of the conversation that she’s starting back up again. As your eyes scan the earlier messages on the screen, it clicks for you. The bonfire.

Every few weeks your friend group makes plans to go out and do something fun together. With busy lives and conflicting schedules, not to mention the range of ages, it’s not always easy to reconnect and make time to be with each other. But months ago there was a collective agreement to make the effort of seeing one another more often than not. It was something you loved, being able to be in the good company of everyone you cared for.

Admittedly, your favorite part of the group hangout was watching as the rest of them enjoyed themselves. Smiles thrown on their faces, laughter roaring out when someone cracks a joke, even comfortable silences—it brought you so much joy to witness. However, due to your more reserved nature and how you passed on drinking each time, you felt more like a bystander; always watching them let loose and wishing you could do the same.

“Yes pleaseee”, your thumbs press on the glass, typing out the message on the digital keys. As you hit the arrow to send the text, another message shows as a banner across the top of the screen.

“You wanna come over?”

It’s from Frank this time. Sinking your teeth into your lip in an attempt to stall your smile, you glance at the clock on the wall. Unfortunately, no amount of wishing makes the thin, red hand pass the black numbers any faster. With a quiet sigh, you begin to type another text.

“I get off in an hour. You’re still going to the bonfire tonight right?”

You anxiously tap your finger along the side of your phone, watching the little bubbles move as an indicator that he’s typing. Frank was the main reason you went to these monthly bonfires, and the idea of him not showing is certainly enough to make you consider twice about going.

“Yeah. Just wanted to see you before then.”

As if right on cue, your heartbeat speeds up when your eyes scan across his words. You don’t even try to fight the grin that grows on your face this time. It’s only been a few days since you last saw him, since your last kiss, but you’ve been texting him each day in between. The conversations have always been light, slightly flirty on his end, but you’re thankful Frank never pressures you to do anything.

Oftentimes you find yourself still in disbelief at how this all happened. Frank’s incredibly patient with you and has reassured you many times that this is all your choice. Hell, he hasn’t even asked for you to come over again until just now. Maybe he was trying to keep the distance to not overwhelm you?

But he does want to see me, the giddy, although nagging, little voice in your head reminds you. Rolling your eyes at your own thoughts, you sigh gently before texting him that you’ll drive over to his apartment after you get off. He replies back almost instantly.

“Can’t wait.”

You force yourself to drop your phone and not reread his message multiple times. It wasn’t a habit you normally had, but it became ever so prevalent with his messages. You pictured what other thoughts could be behind his often short texts and that wasn’t particularly helpful while you’re still on the clock.

The minutes felt like centuries as you sat at the desk. No amount of phone calls from curious customers or coworker gossip could act as a catalyst and make the time pass faster. You almost feel bad for being mentally checked out, but with something as good as this planned after you left, you really couldn’t help it. With your chin in your hand as you barely hold yourself up, you take one last hesitant glance at the clock. Two minutes left.

The second the time flips to the nearest hour, you’re clocking out; you’re thankful it was a slow day and you could leave right on time. With a shout over your shoulder and a wave goodbye to your coworker, you walk out the door and straight to your car. You don’t even put the GPS on–you have the way to his house memorized after the last time–and put on your favorite playlist to get yourself excited once again to see him.

Thankfully, the traffic isn’t too bad and it’s not long before you’re making the first turn into the neighborhood. You turn on each familiar street, winding the curves before you spot the black van with an empty parking space beside it once again. There’s no anxiety this time as you put the car in park, just excitement bubbling up and making your chest grow warm. You’re quick to grab your bag and rush up to the wooden door as you lock the car behind you.

You raise your hand and swiftly knock an upbeat tune on the door. It opens only a few seconds later, and there’s a strong arm winding around you as it pulls you past the door frame. A surprised yelp escapes you and his raspy voice sounds out with an apology.

“Sorry, kid, didn’t mean to scare ya.” He closes the door behind you before walking towards the couch. The room’s not quite as spotless as it was last time but it honestly makes it feel more cozy seeing as it’s been lived in. He motions for you to follow him to sit down and this time you make sure to sit right beside him.

He asks about your day and the two of you begin a light conversation. It feels like he really listens to you; he’s nodding his head as you speak, leaning slightly towards you, and for once you feel like you’re being truly heard. After some back and forth, Frank begins to talk more as something you say sparks up a memory in his mind. He’s excited to tell you, obvious from how he sits up with a wide smile, and you listen to him as he gives you some background information that’s necessary to understand the story.

If you’re honest, you’re not really sure you’re keeping up with the whole picture he’s trying to paint you. You couldn’t really help it, memories of the only other time you were here beginning to rush through your brain. His laughter sounds out, breaking your concentration of the memory, and you try your hardest to focus back on him. Frank’s so animated when he talks: his hands moving in front of him, his facial features physically showing how he felt, and let’s not forget the voices of his friends that he puts on to get a smile out of you.

But eventually his words continue to drone on and on and you’re beginning to lose interest. It's no fault of his own, you just can’t focus on anything other than his mouth. The meaning of his words dissipate until they’re simply just noise to fill the background. Your eyes never leave his lips, watching as they curl around the words or stretch into a smile as he laughs. Before you can even think through the consequences of your actions, you lean forward and place a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.

His words stop abruptly and you watch as he turns his head to face you. There’s a short pause before he’s got his arms wrapped around you, immediately pulling you into his lap. You settle on your knees, straddling his thighs, and he tugs you even closer until you’re sitting right between his legs.

“Did you hear anything I was saying?” he asks, tilting his head as he stares up into your eyes. His gaze is too intense and you find yourself focusing on his lips instead. “You hear a single word or… did some kind of switch flip just then?” He squints his eyes as he asks, his tongue brushing over his lips.

“I just… I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” you confess in a small voice.

“That is just the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. You know that?” And queue the heat rushing to your cheeks. “Got any idea how sweet you sound?”

“Frank, c’mon,” you whisper, growing tired of his teasing.

“What, sweetheart? You wanna say somethin’ like that and not expect me to talk about it?” Again, you wish he would just shut up and kiss you already. “I’ve been on your mind that much? Must’ve been a damn good kiss for you to think about it days later, huh? Did you miss—”

You cut him off once more with your lips, your hands cradling his cheeks as you kiss him. You can’t even believe you did it, you never thought yourself the one to make the first move. Being desperate for his kisses is enough for the final push, you guess. His hands are quick to find your hips and you shiver at the touch, cursing yourself for being so sensitive. He pulls away when he feels your body’s reaction but never takes his hands off of you.

“That okay?” he asks, his eyes glancing up into yours. He gives another swift squeeze into your side before questioning with another “hmm?” You nod quickly, still reeling from the feel of him touching you there. Frank only tilts his head, silently requesting more from you.

“Y-Yes,” you stutter out, and he mutters the quietest, “Okay,” you’ve ever heard. His hand that’s wrapped around your hip begins to push you back and you’re quick to move with his movements. It’s a gentle push that has your ass grinding down onto the center of his jeans and you quickly grab hold of his shoulder to keep your balance.

“You okay?” he asks through a light chuckle. You nod and hum an agreement as you focus back on his warm touch that’s setting a fire alight on your side. He pulls you closer now and begins rocking you back and forth on his lap. The heat begins to travel down your tummy and nestles between your thighs.

Suddenly, Frank’s mouth is on your neck again and you almost feel lightheaded with how your body is trying to take in so much of him at once. He drags his kisses down your jaw, his hand never stopping the gentle pull and push of your hips. As you keep rocking on him, you swear you feel something bumping into you on each push down but you’re not very certain of anything at the moment.

His unoccupied hand smoothes up your side and his big palm grabs at your chest. A small moan gets stuck in your throat, resulting in a quiet whimper, as his long fingers squeeze into your soft skin. You break the kiss, your arms crossing each other as you reach for the hem of your shirt but his hands tenderly grab your wrists.

“You don’t have to…” he breathes shallowly, his breath fanning across your lips. His gaze locks with yours before he swallows thickly. He closes his eyes as he continues, “I’m sorry. I-I just got caught up in it.” You smile at the hesitancy in his voice and brush your thumb along his jaw.

“It’s okay, Frank, I wanna,” you reassure him. He loosens his hold, allowing you to continue your movements and pull your top off. His eyes move up with each new inch of skin that gets exposed and there’s this look in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. Once your head is clear of the fabric, you drop it onto the empty couch cushion beside you before moving to cup his cheeks in your smaller hands.

His lips are parted as he stares unabashedly at your chest. Brushing your thumb over the light stubble, you watch as he takes you in for the first time. Part of you is somewhat worried about his reaction, but his kisses were enough to leave your head clouded for long enough to push the anxiety away.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” is all he mutters before his hand pushes through your hair and he cups the back of your head. He pulls you into another kiss, his tongue wasting no time as it glides along yours. You moan against him sweetly as he lightly pulls on the strands. The sound must’ve spurred him on though, because he squeezes you over your bra once more. His insatiable fingers continue and your chest threatens to spill over the fabric cups.

You bring your hand over his and he immediately lets go of you. You shake your head with a grin, letting him know he didn’t cross any lines. Rather, you press on his fingers and make him hold you even tighter. He sighs into the kiss and digs harder into your smooth skin. Wanting to mimic him and clutch onto as much of him as possible, you push your palms flat to his chest and work them up towards his neck. You don’t even register the way you’re tugging at the neckline of his shirt until your thoughts slip and you mumble something against his lips.

“What was that?” Frank asks as he trails a finger down your cheek.

“Can… Can you take yours off too, please?” Your words come out as a whisper, your nerves acting up at the idea of asking that of him. He only smirks up at you before adjusting himself to sit up more against the couch.

“Guess that’s only fair, huh?” You watch as his hands come to the back of his neck, arms flexing as he pulls the shirt over his head and haphazardly drops it beside yours. When you see him shirtless for the first time, you’re pretty sure any thought you had–and ever will have–leaves your mind. Thick muscle wrapped in tan skin, broad shoulders that you’re certain would engulf you whole, and dark hair lining the skin under his belly button that trails below the waistband of his jeans.

“You alright there, kid?” he questions through a raspy chuckle. You hesitantly reach a hand out and lightly rest it over his heart. His chest is big and he fills your palm as his heart beats against your skin. You force your eyes to focus on his face again and he meets you with a confident smirk.

“You still with me?” His words are laced with a cocky tone and you don’t even give him the satisfaction of shrinking down again. Instead, you lean forward and wrap your fingers around his neck before kissing him harder than you ever have before. He grunts against your lips, his own hips bucking up as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

His hand wraps around to hold your lower back as he continues guiding your movements. With each roll of your hips into his lap, you feel his bulge against you. A wet gasp escapes you when you bump your clit on one particularly hard grind against him.

He feels harder underneath you each time you move, and it dawns on you what it actually means. He’s getting hard? Over me? The ever present voice sounds out again, words soaked in disbelief. Feeling more confident, you begin to buck your hips on your own as you grind faster against him. 

“Attagirl,” he praises, the kiss breaking once again due to his wide smile. He encourages your movements with one little word and his hand stops the push and pull, letting you move independently from him. He grazes his long fingers up your thighs before curling around, sliding his palms higher, and holding your ass in his big hands. Frank tilts his head to the side as he deepens the kiss and you feel the stubble scratching you, causing your hips to speed up of their own accord.

His bulge between your legs is warm–and admittedly thicker than you expected–which does nothing to help the burning at the pit of your stomach. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on before and Frank’s lips begin to wander, trailing down your neck. His teeth graze along your collarbone and your hands find their way to his hair. Brushing through the strands with a gentle pull at the ends, you push yourself harder into his lap.

He grunts before pressing his tongue flat to your skin, slowly licking his way up your throat and back to your lips. A curse slips from you and you shudder when you feel the cool air hit the wet patch he left behind. Cupping your cheeks in his large palms, he traces his tongue over your bottom lip before sinking his teeth into the soft skin. You whimper louder than you mean to, the sound causing Frank to tilt his head down and break the kiss. His forehead rests against yours as he pants gently, regaining his breath.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispers, dragging the tip of his nose down the bridge of your own. You giggle at his exasperated tone from the makeout session and rub your hands down his neck to his shoulder blades. The muscle is noticeable despite him not flexing and your mind starts down a path that you’re certain would do no good right now. Images begin to flash through your mind: Frank on top of you, your nails scratching down his back, his fingers tightening around a headboard. You give yourself a mental shake and bring yourself back to the present.

“What time is it?” you ask softly. Frank raises his arm up, checking the little display of his watch. Once you catch a glimpse of the digital numbers, you perk up as your eyes go wide.

“Shit, I gotta go,” Frank looks up at you confusedly as you speak. “The bonfire…” you trail off, hoping to jog his memory.

“What? No, you just got here, c’mon,” he groans. His arms wrap around your back and he tightens his hold while resting his head against your chest. With a wide smile, you brush your palms against the short hair at the back of his head.

“Frank, I’ve been here almost an hour,” you explain through a chuckle. He hesitantly looks up at you, his eyebrows pulled together and confusion clearly written all over his face.

“Really? I didn’t even notice…”

“Spent all that time when I first got here just talking. It’s your fault!” You tease him and his features soften.

“Well how was I supposed to know I had all this waiting for me if I shut up?” He pulls you snuggly towards his body and you feel the heat coming back to your cheeks. You shake your head when he drapes your arm back around his neck, his charm threatening to work on you once again.

“I gotta get ready,” you explain but make absolutely no attempt to leave your spot on his lap.

“Do you have to? You look great just like this,” his fingers idly move up and down your thighs. You find his little touches comforting and the butterflies flutter to life at his soft spoken compliment.

“My hair is a complete mess, thanks to you,” you scoff, “and I need to change.” You’re still in your outfit from work and want to wear something more comfortable, and warm, for tonight’s get together. Frank pouts as you speak but begrudgingly lets go of you, his hand keeping a hold of yours as you stand. You reach for your shirt and quickly pull it back on over your head and there’s a great, big sigh coming from him once your chest is covered.

Rolling your eyes at his theatrics, you run a hand through your hair in an attempt to look halfway decent. Turning to say one last thing before you leave, there’s a sight that makes your eyes widen as a chill rushes through you. Your hands clasp together over your mouth as you gasp, embarrassment settling in. Frank looks up cluessely at you, until he follows your gaze to his lap.

There’s a damp spot on his jeans, almost unnoticeable against the dark denim, but it’s clear what it is nonetheless.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t think I’d—I’m sorry,” you swallow thickly, trying to find anything to say to fill the silence. He’s hardly moved since he first glared down at the stain on his pants; his chest heaving and jaw clenching as he takes in the sight in front of him. The air is so thick you think for half a second you might actually choke on it. The next thing you see is the bulge in his jeans twitching to the side faintly.

You feel as though you might double over and grab your stomach for balance. “Frank?” you ask gently, but he continues to breathe roughly. You can’t even possibly begin to decipher what’s going on inside his head.

“Don’t ever gotta apologize for that,” he finally speaks up. His voice is gravelly and his jaw is clenched. He takes a long inhale and you can see him physically shake off the tension. “But yeah, you… You should probably change.” His normal cocky smirk is back in place and you smile, relieved.

Leaning over him, you press a brisk kiss to his cheek as a goodbye. You mutter one last apology against his skin before slipping out the door and shouting a farewell over your shoulder.

The entire car ride home you feel your skin buzzing. You’ve never felt so giddy in your life and you’re not exactly sure how you’re supposed to keep this excitement to yourself. Part of you wants to scream out from the rooftops just to let the energy out but you also haven’t exactly talked with Frank about if this is something to share outside the two of you.

The ride home is a total blur and before you know it you’re pulling into your spot at your apartment. Dropping your bag by the door, you make your way straight to the bathroom. After accessing the damage that Frank left with his greedy touch, you quickly begin to try and make yourself look slightly presentable.

Surprisingly, you’re almost ready when your friend sends the message to inform you that she’s arrived at your place. All you’re missing is socks, shoes, and jacket, which by your standards, is pretty good. You brush your fingers through your hair one more time, trying to get it to lie a bit neater. With one last glance over in the mirror, you shrug and decide it’s good enough given the time crunch.

Shoving your shoes on and rushing out the door with your jacket folded over your arm, you reach her car door and climb in. She begins to drive down the street, turning down familiar roads to the place where you usually gather for this sort of thing. She fills the car ride with her stories all about her day, her rude coworker, and the new guy she’s seeing. You nearly speak up when she gets to that last topic of conversation. It would be nice to finally be able to relate to something, but you know that what you and Frank have isn’t even serious. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself as you bite your tongue and keep quiet.

The sound of gravel crunching under the tires reaches your ears and you perk up when you realize you’re finally here. After closing the car door and walking up to the fire pit, you notice your other friends already gathered around it. They greet the two of you kindly and pull you into hugs. You smile through the welcoming and scan their faces to check for Frank, but he’s not there.

Minutes pass and you find yourself pulling your phone out of your pocket to check the time every now and then. You watch as the sunset sinks below the horizon. It paints the sky a dusty orange before mixing and settling into soft pastel streaks of light. You’ve been here over half an hour and still there’s no sign of him. You get the courage to speak up and ask about him.

“Is Frank coming? I know he’s not usually on time but…” There’s a small chuckle sounding out from someone already a few drinks in.

“He texted me saying he forgot it was tonight. Should be here soon,” one of Frank’s closer friends, Curtis, replies to you. That’s weird, you think as you pout and wrap your arms around yourself. You wonder why he gave that excuse and what must’ve come up to deter him from getting here. It does little use, but you try to shake off the worry and focus on being in the company of the people you love.

You’re laughing loudly at a joke when you hear some light cheers and quickly turn around at the sound. Frank’s walking up slowly, shaking his head as the small group rags on him for being late. He scoffs, scratching at the back of his neck before being pulled into a few hugs by his friends. You’d give anything to rush over and pull him into an embrace as well, but you decide to not just run with your emotions.

Once Frank is sitting back in an old lawn chair and everyone is officially accounted for, Curtis lights the fire. It’s tradition to wait until everybody is together before setting the wood alight. There’s a moment of quiet crackling but before long the flames are roaring to life. You’re the first to walk up to it, stretching your arms out and melting at the warmth enveloping you when suddenly, there’s a nagging feeling in your head and you look over your shoulder to satisfy the small itch.

Frank’s eyes are glaring into your side, his expression hard and difficult to pinpoint. He’s holding his chin up in his hand and his eyes slowly begin to rake down your frame before shooting back up to your face. The lights and shadows from the flames dance across his features and you swear you notice his nose scrunch up for a second when his teeth sink into his lower lip.

A shiver runs down your neck and it’s not born from excitement like before. He looks absolutely pissed and you force yourself to look back at the charred wood. It could have absolutely nothing to do with you, you try to reason with yourself. But you’ve always been one to look for a flaw in yourself when someone’s upset, and no amount of logic can take away that instinct reaction.

The only thing you can think of is the mess you unintentionally left on him. He seemed okay when you left, but maybe that really bothered him. Whatever it was, he was definitely more cold than he was just hours ago and you wish he’d stop staring and talk to you already.

You plaster on a fake smile when your friend asks what’s wrong and insist that you’re fine. You mutter some excuse about the air being chilly and she finds a spare blanket to wrap you up in. When you steal a glance at Frank, you notice him acting in complete opposite of how he was moments before. He’s back to all smiles, holding his chest as he throws his head back laughing. You feel some of your own tension leaving at the sound of his cackling but you can’t help but wonder why that cold gaze was directed towards you.

The sky eventually begins to settle into the comforting deep blue and the fire shows no signs of dying out. You notice the cooler of beer sitting open and decide to walk over and grab one. Glancing down at the label, you notice it’s not the one Frank introduced you to. With a mental shrug you crack it open and toss it back without thinking. The flavor hits your tongue and it surprises you how much smoother it is than your first drink.

You get lost in the overlapping chatter of conversations and begin drinking more now that you’ve found a taste that’s enjoyable. The time passes and you slowly feel yourself relaxing more as the weight of the bottle in your hand gets lighter. It’s not enough to make you feel without control of your actions, but it definitely is enough to give you a buzz.

Eventually the chill of the night breeze picks up, and you begin to notice some people cuddling up to their partners. A few cuddle on a picnic blanket lying on the ground, some sit in each other’s laps. Regardless, you feel that uneasy sensation of being a spectator rising up again. You fidget with the bottle in your hand as you try and not compare yourself to the other couples when the sound of someone clearing their throat makes you look up.

Frank is sitting in his chair like before but this time his legs are spread wide apart. You lock eyes with him and he glances at his lap before looking back to your face. He runs a large hand down the length of his thigh, smoothing the fabric of his jeans, and it seems as though he’s presenting you a seat. You swallow thickly and make your way over to him, standing right at his knees.

“C’mon, it’s too cold,” he mumbles under the background noise of layered voices. You nod as he takes your hand, leading you to sit down on his legs. He’s quickly adjusting the blanket and draping it back over your shoulders before pulling your side into his chest. Your head aligns perfectly in the crevice of his collarbone and his body heat completely engulfs you. To say you’re happy you get to be close to him would be an understatement; you’ve been waiting for this all night but not sure if he’d make the move with an audience.

Each time he speaks, you feel his chest rumble against your cheek. His beating heart sounds out against your ear and you feel his fingers rubbing over your back. The warmth of his thick thighs underneath you remind you yet again of what occurred just a short while ago. You nuzzle your face into his shirt to hide from the thoughts consuming your mind, and he just continues talking while brushing over your side. Raising the bottle to your lips, you take another swig and swallow it down with a hum. Frank looks down at you and watches as you sit up higher against his chest to speak to him.

“Whatever’s in this is waaaaay better than what you gave me,” you whisper into his ear. Your voice isn’t slurred but it’s uneven in pitch, and he snorts–you’re pretty sure that’s your new favorite sound–before nodding.

“I’ll make sure to remember that, sweetheart.” His mouth is near your jaw and the breath fans over your neck. He didn’t even say anything sexual but that all-too-familiar warmth comes to life in the pit of your stomach again.

“Can I tell you something?” you ask in a quiet voice.

“Hmm?” His eyes never leave your lips.

“I missed you,” you confess. His lips spread into a wide smirk and you continue. “I know it’s stupid cause I literally just saw you but…” you trail off, staring down at your legs draped across his. “I got a little lonely when you didn’t show.”

“Yeah, about that…” He chuckles dryly and looks away from you. 

“What?”

“Let’s just say that, uh, the problem you left on my jeans was the reason I was late.” He turns his head in the direction of the tall flames and his words slowly sink into your mind. Heat rushes to your cheeks and your stomach does a cartwheel as new images flash in your mind: Frank’s long fingers working the button of his jeans open, his fingers curled around his cock, head tilted back as moans fall freely from his mouth.

There has to be a work stronger than mortified to describe how you feel right now. You still can’t believe you did that earlier and now paired with his confession? You wouldn’t be surprised if you melted into a puddle of your own embarrassment and slipped away. That also explains that his look from earlier wasn’t anger, but something much deeper and faceted.

“What’s wrong, kid?” He must’ve noticed you tensing up in his hold.

“You shouldn’t have told me that,” you mutter. You’re almost certain you haven’t blinked since he told you. Frank bursts into loud laughter, causing a few others to look over at the sound. You can’t handle the new pairs of eyes on you and you wrap the blanket around you tighter as you turn away from their curious expressions.

The night grows colder as the hours pass and you don’t even realize that the flames have died down until a few people begin to stand up and stretch, saying they’ve got to head home. You sit up and rub at your eyes, blinking slowly at the few empty chairs and people waving goodbye.

“You okay if I drop you home?” Frank speaks up as he watches you pull yourself back together.

“Are you sure? Didn’t you have some drinks?” you ask through a yawn, your eyes scrunching closed.

“Nah, saw you drinkin’ when I walked up. Just had water tonight,” he explains. 

He helps you stand up, saying your collective goodbyes to the group, before walking you to his black van. You watch as he walks around to the passenger side, opening the door for you and making sure your seatbelt is buckled before dropping the blanket back in your lap. You’ve never had someone take care of you like this and you have to convince yourself he’s just being a friend to not put more emotions in his kind gestures.

You mumble directions to him as he drives, sneaking glances at his profile as he stares out at the open roads. The lights from the lampposts shine through the window, the shadows dragging across his features as he taps his fingers along to a song playing faintly on the radio. He engages the clutch as he brings the car out of gear, coasting to a red light.

“I have another question,” you say in a raspy tone. It’s the one thing about tonight you still can’t figure out.

“Sure are full of ‘em tonight,” he jokes as he turns to face you.

“The thing you said earlier, about why you were late?” you don’t dare to actually say it aloud. “I left a few hours before the fire started.” Frank shakes his head, biting the inside of his cheek as he stares at the scarlet glow of the traffic light.

“Tried a cold shower, sweetheart. Didn’t work,” he says simply. You don’t even say anything in response, just turn away from him and look out your window to avoid an even more awkward conversation. His chuckle sounds out in the small cabin of the van and you hate how your pulse speeds up.

“Just another left here,” you say after a while, directing him to turn into the neighborhood of your apartment. He parks along the curb with a clear view of your front door. The night is officially over and you want literally any excuse not to get out of this close space with him.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask in a small whisper.

“You don’t ever have to ask me that, kid.” You’re quick to unbuckle your seatbelt, leaning over and brushing your lips over his. Pausing for a second, you try to memorize the feeling of his breath fanning over your lips, before delaying the tease and pushing your mouth against his. He kisses back instantly and you suck his lower lip past your own. A not so stifled grunt escapes him and you smile knowing you can get to him in the same way he gets to you. You break the kiss and work your mouth down his chin and the underside of his jaw. He sighs heavily and suddenly places his big palm to your cheek, gently raising your face away from his throat.

“I can’t let you go any further,” he stares down at you. You sigh frustratedly between your teeth before sitting up with a groan. You pout at him and stare back at his lips, cursing the fact that you drank tonight.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. It’s late, you should head inside,” he nods towards the direction of your door. You hesitantly get out and drag your feet as you walk towards the small porch light. You unlock the door and look over your shoulder to see his van still parked. It isn’t until you step inside and shut the door that you hear the motor rev as he drives off.

You stumble into your apartment, brushing your hand against the wall until you miraculously flip the light switch on. You squint your eyes as you flinch away from the bright light and shuffle your feet forward down the hallway that leads to your bedroom. As you empty your pockets and drop your bag to the floor, you make your way towards the connecting bathroom.

Another yawn overcomes you as you struggle with taking your top off, your head getting lost in the mess of fabric. The jeans come off next and you try your hardest to hold onto the countertop before inevitably losing your balance as you try to pull your feet through the cuffs at the end of your pants. You try to breeze through your routine of getting ready for the night and eventually you're sinking into the soft mattress of your bed.

Three consecutive buzzes sound out as your phone vibrates on your nightstand, the display shining in the dark bedroom. You reach for it blindly and see text messages from your friend that drove you tonight.

“Did you get home okay?”

“Since when do you drink?”

“Also what is with you and Frank?” Oh no. A fourth one comes in as your phone vibrates in your hand.

“You have to tell me everything!”

Taglist: @chellestrash @suitsofwo3 @avengerstower-houseplant @musicals-and-mermaids @castle-of-ruin @justalittlepickle @boo8008 @doublevirgogirl

[kentobb]

PRESAGE | CHAPTER FIVE

Characters: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Female Reader

Genre: Angst

Warning: Verbal fight? Argument. Emotional Damage.

Ushijima’s steps echoed through the dimly lit, narrow streets of the neighborhood, each sound bouncing off the cracked pavement and graffiti-covered walls. The area was a stark contrast to the pristine order he was accustomed to, but he hardly noticed. His thoughts were entirely consumed by the upcoming conversation with you. As he passed a group of loitering teenagers who eyed him suspiciously, he tightened his jaw and quickened his pace.

Finally, he arrived at the dilapidated apartment building. He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves, before ascending the creaking stairs. Reaching the door he knew was yours, he hesitated for a fraction of a second before knocking. The sound of footsteps approached, and the door opened to reveal you, face lighting up with a mix of surprise and warmth.

“Ushijima,” you breathed, her voice soft and welcoming.

“Y/N,” he replied, his deep voice almost tender.

You stepped aside to let him in. The apartment was small and cluttered, but there was a sense of coziness and care within the modest space. His eyes immediately fell on the toys scattered across the living room floor, brightly colored reminders of the child who lived here. The sight filled him with a strange mixture of hope and sorrow.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” You said, gesturing towards the couch. You moved towards the kitchenette, movements graceful despite the tight space. He watched you as you prepared tea, his mind swirling with questions and emotions.

Once the tea was ready, you brought two steaming cups to the living room and sat down across from him. Sitting in silence for a moment, the air was heavy with unspoken words.

“Thank you,” Ushijima said, taking the cup but not drinking. His gaze was fixed on you, waiting for you to begin.

You took a deep breath, fingers trembling slightly as you wrapped them around your cup. “Asahi was born in December 14, of 2013”

“How was it?” he said, his voice steady but intense. “Tell me everything.”

You looked down at the tea, eyes glistening. “It was... a difficult pregnancy. I went into labor early, and they had to perform an emergency C-section.” Your voice wavered, and Ushijima felt a tightness in his chest. “For a moment, I was terrified I’d lose him. But he’s strong.”

Ushijima listened intently, every word sinking deep into his heart. He could feel the weight of the years he had missed, the moments he had been absent for.

“I was alone through most of it. My family helped, but it wasn’t the same.” You continued, eyes filling with tears.

You reached for a photo album on the table and handed it to him. His large hands gently took it, and he began flipping through the pages. Each photo was a new revelation—a newborn Asahi in the hospital, his first smile, his tiny hand clutching a toy, his first steps. Ushijima’s breath caught in his throat. Here was his son, growing up before his eyes in snapshots, a life he hadn’t known existed.

“He’s... he’s just like you,” You said, a soft smile playing on your lips. “He’s quiet, thoughtful. He has this seriousness about him, even when he plays. He likes to line up his toys in perfect rows, and he’s incredibly determined. When he wants something, he doesn’t give up until he gets it.”

Ushijima’s heart swelled with pride and a deep sense of loss. “I lost all those years,” he said quietly, his voice strained with emotion. “My son... I didn’t even know.”

You reached out to touch his hand, but he pulled back, the pain too raw. “Ushijima, I’m so sorry. I-I did what I thought was best.”

“Best?” he echoed, his voice rising slightly. “You kept him from me. You made that decision for both of us.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks. “I was scared! I didn’t know if you’d want us. I didn’t know if you’d be ready to be a father.”

“And now?” he demanded, his frustration bubbling up. “I want to meet him, I need to.”

You shook her head, own voice growing more insistent. “It’s not that simple. He doesn’t know you. He’s just a baby.”

“I’ve already lost so much time,” Ushijima said, his voice breaking with the weight of his words. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

You stood up, own anger flaring. “And you think this is easy for me? You think I don’t want him to know his father? But I need to protect him. I need to do what’s right for him.”

“What’s right?” Ushijima shouted, standing as well. “What’s right is for him to know his father. For me to be in his life.”

Their voices echoed through the small apartment, the argument growing more heated with each passing moment. Emotions that had been bottled up for years were now spilling out, raw and unchecked.

“You don’t understand,” You cried, voice trembling with a mix of anger and sadness. “I’ve been doing this alone, making these decisions alone. I’m scared, Ushijima. I’m scared of what this will do to him.”

“And you think I’m not scared?” he retorted, his own tears threatening to fall. “You think I haven’t been living with this emptiness, not knowing I had a son out there?”

Your voices rose, the argument intensifying. Ushijima’s normally stoic demeanor cracked under the weight of his emotions, something you had never seen before.

“I missed his first steps, his first words,” Ushijima continued, his voice filled with anguish. “I missed everything. How can you expect me to wait any longer?”

“I had to make those choices alone,” You countered, own voice rising. “I had to decide what was best for him without you. I was terrified of what this would mean for him, for us.”

“What about what’s best for him now?” Ushijima shot back, his fists clenching at his sides. “He deserves to know his father, to have me in his life.”

“And if it confuses him? If it scares him?” Your voice broke, tears streaming down your face. “He’s so young, Ushijima. He’s never known anything but me. Bringing you into his life has to be done carefully.”

“Carefully?” Ushijima shouted, his control slipping completely. “I’ve been careful my whole life. I’ve sacrificed and disciplined myself for everything I have. And now, when it matters most, I’m supposed to wait? To be patient?”

Your tears fell freely now, own emotions a tumultuous storm. “I know it’s unfair, I know it’s painful, but I’m begging you to trust me. I need time to prepare him, to make sure he understands.”

Ushijima’s face contorted with a mix of rage and despair. “I can’t accept that. I’ve already lost so much time. Every day I don’t know him, don’t hold him, is another day wasted.”

“You think I don’t feel that too?” You screamed, voice cracking. “Every single day I see him and think about how much you’ve missed, how much he’s missed. But I had to make the best choice I could.”

The room fell silent, the intensity of the emotions filling the space. In the charged silence, Ushijima took a step forward, his eyes locked on yours. In a sudden, desperate move, he grabbed you and pulled you into a fierce kiss.

The world outside ceased to exist, and for a moment, there was only the two of them, connected by years of longing and unspoken love.

When he finally pulled apart, both of your breaths were ragged, staring into each other’s eyes, both of you reeling from the intensity of the moment.

“I can’t,” You whispered, voice breaking. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Ushijima’s heart ached with the weight of your words, but he nodded slowly, understanding the depth of that kiss. He released you, stepping back, the distance between you feeling like an insurmountable chasm.

“J-Just…let me talk to him, prepare him.” You whispered, voice barely audible through your sobs.

Ushijima’s eyes blazed with a mixture of hurt and fury. “When would he be ready? Another five years?” he asked out of furry, his voice trembling with emotion.

You looked at him, out of words. How could he be so insensitive? “Get out!” You yelled as tears fell down your cheeks.

Without another word, Ushijima turned and stormed out of the apartment. The door slammed shut behind him with a force that rattled the walls, the sound echoing down the dimly lit hallway. The finality of it left a heavy silence in its wake, a silence that seemed to press down on your chest, making it hard to breathe.

Your sobs echoed through the small apartment, heart feeling like it might shatter into a thousand pieces. The walls, the toys, everything seemed to close to you, pressing down with the weight of your emotions. You hugged your knees tighter, rocking back and forth as you tried to stem the tide of her tears.

In the quiet aftermath of your breakdown, a small sound reached your ears—soft, hesitant footsteps padding down the hallway. You froze, wiping your tears quickly, trying to compose yourself as best as you could.

“Mommy?”

You looked up to see Asahi standing in the doorway, his big, innocent eyes filled with worry. His small frame was dwarfed by the oversized pajamas he wore, his dark hair tousled from sleep.

You forced a smile, though your heart ached even more at the sight of him. “Hi, sweetheart. What are you doing up?”

Asahi shuffled closer, his little face scrunched in concern. “I heard yelling,” he said, his voice small and tremulous. “Was someone fighting?”

Your heart squeezed. You opened your arms, and Asahi immediately crawled into your lap, burying his face in your neck. “No, honey, it wasn’t us. It was just the neighbors being loud. Everything’s okay.”

“Really?” Asahi asked, pulling back to look at you, his innocent eyes searching hers.

“Really,” you assured him, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

Asahi studied your face intently, his tiny brows knitting together. “Why are you crying, Mommy?”

Your heart felt like it might break all over again. “Oh, sweetie, I’m just a little tired, that’s all. Sometimes grown-ups cry when they’re tired.”

He seemed to accept this explanation, though he still looked uncertain. “I don’t like it when you cry. It makes me sad.”

You pulled him close, hugging him tightly. “I’m sorry, Asahi. I don’t want to make you sad.”

Asahi hugged you back, his small arms wrapped around your neck. “I love you, Mommy.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they were tears of a different kind. “I love you too, my little bear.”

Asahi nuzzled into your shoulder, his voice muffled but sincere. “Can you sleep with me tonight? I’m scared.”

Your heart melted at his words. “Of course, sweetheart. Let’s go back to bed.”

You stood, lifting him easily into your arms. Asahi clung to you, his head resting on your shoulder. You carried him back to his bedroom, the small space filled with the comforting presence of his toys and books. You laid him down gently on his bed, then slipped under the covers beside him.

Asahi cuddled up to you immediately, his tiny hand finding yours and holding on tightly. “Mommy, promise you’ll always be here?”

You kissed his forehead, heart swelling with love. “I promise, Asahi. I’ll always be here for you.”

He snuggled closer, his breathing slowing as he began to drift back to sleep. “I love you, Mommy,” he murmured again, his voice drowsy.

“I love you too, my sweet boy,” You whispered, holding him close.

As Asahi’s breathing deepened into the steady rhythm of sleep, You lay there, own tears slowly subsiding. The storm of emotions from earlier had not fully dissipated, but in this moment, with your son safe and warm in your arms, you felt a measure of peace.

Your thoughts drifted to Ushijima, the pain and anger in his eyes when he had left. You didn’t know what the future held.

But as you lay there with Asahi, you knew that you would do everything in your power to protect him, to ensure he felt loved and secure.

You closed your eyes, the exhaustion of the evening finally catching up to you. As you drifted into sleep, you held onto the hope that, somehow, you would find a way through this. That one day, Asahi would know his father, and that your family, fractured and strained as it was, could find a way to heal.

Any comments, notes and reblogs are appreciated <3 let me know what yall think of this chapter

[aquaticmercy]

Blood and Kin

Part 3 of Dark Necessities

Summary : You desperately drank Bucky’s blood when you were starving. You found out that there are consequences to your actions.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x half-vampire!reader (she/her in mind)

Warnings/tags : Cursing. 

Word count : 2k

Note : Reader is a daywalker like Blade. And yes, I finally turned this into a series! The name Dead Club City is inspired by the Nothing but Thieves album.

I’m starting a taglist for this so let me know if you wanna be on it!

edit: the first couple of hours that this was up I accidentally posted an unrefined draft but now it’s all fixed. Sorry for the mistake!

Eric stood in the doorway, shadows casting hard lines across his forehead. His eyes locked onto you, then moved Bucky, before trailing back to you with a grief that ran bone-deep. 

It was a look you’d never seen on him before, one so intense it seemed to make the walls tremble. Eric’s presence consumed the room, his rage dense, like a storm ready to tear everything in its path.

“Get out,” he growled at John through gritted teeth. For a second, he looked ready to argue. Then he stopped himself, retreating silently. He knew better than to question Blade, than to disagree with him. 

Eric’s face was thunderous, his rage a force that practically sucked the oxygen out of the room. He was livid— no, furious— in a way that was beyond anything you’d ever witnessed from him. The kind of anger that rolled out in waves, accompanied by a piercing stare you could feel through your skin.

He threw your shirts at you and Bucky, not caring if they even hit their mark, like the sight of you both —caught in this moment, bonded in ways he couldn’t forgive— was making him sick.

“You know what a blood bond is?” he spat, the sharpness like venom dripping from every word.

You pulled the shirt over your shoulders with trembling fingers, feeling every ounce of his anger pressing down on you, sinking into your skin like ice. 

“You’re like family to me, kid,” he said, his voice thick with something darker than rage, something akin to despair. “And you kept this— this thing from me?” 

You felt his anger float in the air, clawing its way beneath your skin.

You had nothing to say, no defense against the anger that poured from him. You knew you’d crossed a line and whatever was left between you and Eric was hanging by the barest, most fragile thread.

“I don’t know what this is,” you admitted in a  whisper.

“A Blood Bond is ancient, and it’s unforgiving.” Eric continued, his voice a hollow echo, like a tolling bell. “You think this fucking thing with Barnes is harmless?”

“I didn’t know,” you said, lips quivering, almost desperately this time. You jumped off the sink, feeling your footing steady on the bathroom floor.

Behind you, Bucky stepped forwards, his eyes flashing with a defiance that only seemed to fan the flames of Eric’s  rage.

“Of course you didn’t,” Eric snapped.

Bucky didn’t flinch. If anyone had the right to stand up to Eric, it was him. Eric had walked this earth for almost a hundred years now, so it was easy to forget that Bucky was older. He’d been different people, molded and broken by the cruelty he’d endured, bruised and battered, reprogrammed and reformed. He had seen depths of horror that even Eric hadn’t touched. That defiance in his eyes was forged in a hell, or at least if felt like it.

“She didn’t know,” Bucky said. “I didn’t know either. You can’t just disappear off the face of the earth for a month and blame her for doing the only thing she could have—”

“She should have done anything but this!” Eric’s glare turned on Bucky. The room contained a silent tension that was as volatile as dynamite waiting for a spark.

“Do you even understand what you’re putting her through?” Eric spat, his voice laced with venom. “You’ve tied her fate to yours in a way that can’t be undone. If either of you dies…” His voice cracked slightly, a flash of something softer breaking through before it was replaced with a grim determination. “It’s not just grief that takes over. It’s madness. The kind that drives vampires to tear cities apart, to leave rivers of blood in their wake.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing, his silence a stubborn refusal to give Eric the satisfaction of seeing him falter.

Eric’s expression twisted, a bitter laugh escaping him. “This bond demands everything of you,” he continued, almost to himself, “And it won’t care about your good intentions or the life you’re trying to live.”

You could feel Bucky tense beside you, his fists curling tightly at his sides, the weight of Eric’s words cutting into him as deeply as they were to you. He was warning you, trying to pierce through the wall of denial you had built. He was trying to make you understand what you’d find at the end of this road— blood and ruin.

“I didn't know,” you repeated again, more to yourself than anyone else. There’s been so much information thrown at you, you were struggling to keep up, struggling to process everything.

Eric's voice dropped to a lethal whisper.  “Every account in history ends the same way: with a killing spree committed by one when the other dies. And you two think you’re the exception?”

Bucky’s lips tightened, his gaze fixed and defiant, though a flicker of doubt passed across his face. “I don’t do that anymore,” he said, almost to himself, voice thick with an uncertainty that betrayed him.

Eric stepped closer, voice barely more than a growl. “This bond doesn’t care who you think you are.”

“I didn't fucking know!” You shouted this time, probably enough for John to hear in the other room. Your fingers trembled, tongue lapping up the remnants of Bucky’s blood on your lips.

You couldn’t meet his gaze. Eric’s words finally started to sink in, every detail a nail in the coffin. 

Bucky’s hand brushed against yours, intertwining as if you were one.

Eric turned away, rubbing a hand over his jawline. “Tomorrow night, I’ll take you both to Dead Club City,” he said, the words sounding like a promise and a warning all at once. His voice cracked, bitter. “If anywhere has answers, it’s there.”

The name hit you like a blow to the chest. 

Dead Club City. The infamous blood bar, where vampires walked the line between survival and indulgence, drinking cocktails made of animal blood and a synthetic tonic that mimicked human blood.

You’ve been there, but only once. A long time ago.

But Eric’s mention of it was different; his tone made it sound less like a refuge and more like a last-ditch attempt to try and salvage your sanity.

—

That night, the room was wrapped in shadows, softened by the moonlight filtering through the curtains. Bucky sat beside you, watching as you lay deep in sleep, your brows in a gentle furrow. You looked so vulnerable, if only for a few hours. 

It had taken you a while to fall asleep— he could feel your worry in the back of his head through the bond. You were afraid— of Eric’s disapproval. Of disappointing him.

He brushed a strand of hair from your forehead, his fingers lingering on warmth of your skin. 

You were… everything to Bucky. And that scared him, more than he would ever admit. 

After a moment, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. He made his way out of the room. His throat was dry, and only water would help.

The safehouse was silent as Bucky crept down the stairs. He was only halfway to the kitchen when he sensed someone already there, the faintest hum of steady breathing.

Under the dim light, he found Eric standing near the counter, motionless. 

So he couldn’t sleep, either. 

The two of them regarded each other in silence, neither sure of what to say after he caught you on the sink.

Bucky poured himself a glass of water, careful not to make a noise. He was unwilling to break the silent truce that they had.

Eric’s voice coming out low, almost as if he were speaking to himself. 

“Please take care of her, Barnes.” he murmured, “She’s the only one I have left. She’s… like kin to me.”

“Of course,” Bucky set his glass down, meeting Eric’s eyes with a steady look. He could see the unspoken fear that lay beneath the stoic facade of the dhampir. “You don’t even have to ask.”

Eric shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “I don’t think you understand...”

“I do,” Bucky turned the tap off, unflinching. “She’s the love of my life.” The words came easily, as if they had been waiting to be said all along. “You’ve seen the things I’d do for her. The things I’d do because of her.”

He paused, a warmth creeping into his voice, his gaze softening as he thought of you asleep upstairs. “She… she gave me back pieces of myself I thought I’d lost forever. She’s not just a bond, Brooks. Not to me.”

Eric sighed, glancing at his own glass of blood replacement serum. He looked up, his voice dropping, almost wistful.

“You know, she wasn’t always like this,” he began, “when I found her, she wasn’t the person you know now. She was feral, half-starved. A teenage daywalker, struggling and dangerous. She… hated me at first. Thought I was just another person trying to control her.” He chuckled, his gaze drifting, as though seeing some distant memory. “She tried to run more times than I could count. Back then, she would have gladly ripped my throat out if she had the chance.”

Bucky listened, surprised but intrigued. He could picture her—wild, defiant, her spirit untamed and her strength untethered, raw. “I can see that,” he murmured with a smile. “The wild part still comes out from time to time.”

Eric nodded. “But she grew up. Somewhere in between all the blood and chaos, she learned discipline. We became… family. She even called me her brother once,” His voice grew quieter, carrying a thread of nostalgia. “I’d like to think I gave her something… something to hold onto when the world was a place she couldn’t belong. I taught her control. I taught her how to fight with honour. I think… you taught her how to love in a way I didn’t even realise she was capable of.”

Bucky felt a pang in his chest, understanding the weight Eric must have carried, watching over you, shaping you into someone who could live in a world that would never fully accept you. He felt the urge to comfort Eric, to tell him that his efforts paid off.

“Did she ever tell you about when I first met her?”  Bucky finally spoke, his voice a touch warmer.

Eric shook his head, looking up for the first time.

“She saved my life. She was working with Man-Thing—Ted—on some mission in the middle of nowhere when we crossed paths.” Bucky chuckled, “They were tracking a rogue werewolf. And Ted, well…” Bucky laughed softly, shaking his head. “Ted was dead on his feet from lack of sleep. He was useless that night.”

Eric raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “She was doing all the heavy lifting?”

Bucky nodded. “I was barely aware of what was happening before she’d taken down that werewolf. I didn’t even know what hit me—just this blur of speed. She shocked me that night.” He looked down, a faint smile touching his lips as he remembered. “And that was it. I knew I was done for.”

Finally, Eric sighed, the tension easing from his shoulders. “I think… I think she’s better for having you.” He looked away, almost reluctantly. “I didn’t think anyone else could understand what she means to me. But maybe in a different way— you do.”

They stood in silence for a little longer. Each held a different piece of your story, cherished you in their own way. They both knew you were in the best hands you could possibly be— even if you were fully capable of protecting yourself.

Before turning back to go upstairs, Bucky’s curiosity got the better of him.

“What’s waiting for us at Dead Club City?” he asked.

“Someone who will understand,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky took one last glance at him, nodding. 

Eric stayed, watching the soldier return to you with something that hadn’t been there before— a flicker of trust. 

Bucky slipped into bed beside you after taking a sip of water. You curled into him, still fast asleep. The tension in your brow had softened. Your face was peaceful, utterly serene. He could feel it, too— how you were resting easier now.

Watching you, Bucky couldn’t help but wonder if you could sense Eric’s newfound approval echoing through his mind— like a reassuring pulse through the bond.

-to be continued…

[m-jelly]

@2moth-anon2 requested.

Warm

Levi x fem!reader

Modern AU, fluff, romance, married, smut, oral, body worship, unprotected, dirty talk, pet names.

For Levi's birthday, you went away to a cabin in the woods for some peace, but while there a blizzard hits and you have to hunker down and wait it out. While waiting, you decide to worship your husband's body and the two of you make love in front of the fire.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird

The cracking of the fire and the loud wind of the snowstorm outside were all forgotten because the heat, soft sighs and words of praise coming from your lips. Each kiss on Levi's warm naked body was electrifying to him. Tingles of pleasure consumed him as he watched you closer.

Your hair tickled his skin as you showered his chest with kisses. Both pecs were adorned with all the love you could possibly give. You cheekily licked a spot before biting causing him to buck. Intense gazes of desire were exchanged, but you weren't done yet.

Every dip and curve of his abs were covered in kisses, you refused to leave a single spot untouched. Your lips dragged down further to his pelvis. The treasure trail of black hair was so delicious to you, it was like a nice arrow to something delicious.

Soft fingertips caressed your cheek causing you to look up. With a gentle smile, you crawled over to your husband and kissed him.

You purred at him. "You wanted me?"

Levi sighed. "I always want you."

You wrapped your hand around his thick, hot erection and moved slowly. You watched as he moaned and whimpered for you. No matter how many times you touched each other or made love, it was still perfection each time. You craved each other.

With keen eyes, Levi watched as you shifted down the floor before sinking him into your mouth. As each inch of him moved into his mouth, he let out a long sigh of pleasure. You paused a moment and moved back up, your lips dragged up his shaft as your tongue moved against him.

Leaning his head back in pleasure caused his hair to ruffle up. His knuckles became white as he gripped the blanket below him. A choked moan escaped him, it was like he was trying to hold back. The heat of your mouth was perfect, along with the gentle movements of your tongue. As Levi marvelled at how your mouth moved, he kept thinking about being inside your pussy.

Levi murmured your name. "Please, no more."

With a cute pop, you pulled back from him. "Are you okay?"

Once he was sat up he pushed his fingers into your hair and brought you closer for a kiss. "I'm good, you're just too talented."

You giggled. "Thank you."

"Come here, cupcake."

You squealed in delight when he dragged you onto his lap, his erection was pressed between your stomachs. You slipped your arms over his shoulders and hummed. "Can I ask, did you wish for the snowstorm on your birthday so we would spend more time in here?"

Levi massaged your thighs. "Mm, maybe."

You shifted up to your knees. "Want me to lower down?"

"Please do." He took himself in his head and moved up and down. "I'm aching for you."

You mewled at his words before sinking down on him slowly. Delighted moans slipped from both of your lips. Once all of Levi's cock was deep inside you, you both spent a moment lightly touching each other and kissing. Your walls caressed and clenched him causing him to grunt in response.

Levi gripped around your thighs and helped you bounce up and down on him. You gripped his shoulder and bounced on Levi. The two of you felt electricity going through you as his cock pounded in and out of you. It was like the two of you were made for each other, the way you came together was just so addictive.

You dove for his shoulder and bit hard as you started rolling your hips. You dragged your tongue up his neck and nibbled on his earlobe. You mewled in delight. Levi's lips were so tempting, you had to have them against yours. You crashed your lips against his and felt your heart throb in your chest.

Your toes squeezed tightly as you felt your coil tighten up. You pulled from Levi's lip and cried out in pleasure. "Levi."

Levi chuckled and slowly lay you on your back. "You are so cute when you cum."

You nibbled your lip and whined. "You're sexy when you cum."

Levi slipped his hand under your bum as the other cupped the back of your head. "Thank you." He panted as he moved against you, your bodies rubbed together causing a tingling of pleasure. "You are so perfect."

You smiled at him. "I thought I was supposed to spoil you."

He nibbled your jawline. "You can spoil me by letting me devour."

You leaned your head back in Levi's hand as he started bucking hard and fast into you. Your nails dragged across his back as his cock plunged in and out of your pussy. Each slam of his hips sent an explosion of pleasure to go through you. You were in pure ecstasy as Levi moved deep within you.

Levi shivered in pleasure as your walls fluttered around him. Every inch of your body was precious and blissful to him. Each time you came together as one he felt like he was tasting heaven. Your body was incredible to him and he wanted to make you feel euphoric as often as possible.

You cupped Levi's face as you panted and moaned against his lips. "I love you."

Levi tapped his forehead against yours. "I love you so much. My darling wife."

You mewled and purred at him as he moved with you. The way he kissed and treated your body was as if you were a goddess. You always treated Levi the same. The way Levi's body moved and looked was incredible. He was a divine being and you were his precious offering before a blazing fire.

You shifted under him and mewled. "Cum inside me, deep inside me."

Levi growled and bucked hard and fast into you. "Yes. All yours." He smiled at you. "My darling wife. I love you."

"I love you, Levi. I love you." You squeezed your toes. "I love you." You panted and gasped. "A-Ah!" You cried out in pleasure. "F-Fuck." You moaned as your orgasm pulsed through you. "Mm."

Levi grunted as your pussy walls massaged his cock. He tapped his forehead against the floor next to your head and plunged deep into you. He panted and moaned against your ear when he came hard. His hot cum poured into you. He hummed as his cock twitched inside you.

He smiled a little at you and started kissing your face all over. "What a wonderful birthday escape."

You giggled. "I'm glad."

He kissed you and hummed. "The storm is still bad." He kissed your neck. "The fire is still big."

You purred. "And you're still horny?"

He smirked. "Yes."

"So am I."

[ultraacherries]

Need - jude bellingham 🍒

this is my first time writing a fic so my grammar and spelling is horrible lol i’m open to criticism so feel free to tell me what i should improve on !! if you want to leave suggestion all feel free !!

Him wanting you was an understatement.

He needed you.

He needed to ruin you in every way possible.

He needed to undress the innocence that wrapped around you like a cloth and taint you with every sin known to man.

He needed to break every part of you and then piece you back together with love that is on the edge of consuming him.

The lustful attention thrown at you did nothing to sedate the thoughts of having you to himself, your very being belonging to him. Only him.

Everyone could see it, from his unwavering longing gazes, to his protective touches, everyone but you. Your oblivious nature didn’t mean your feelings towards him were platonic like they once were.

You started to feel a sudden shift when Jude moved to real madrid, his confidence and physique filled you with an indescribable feeling, one you’ve never felt before, his friendship was always something you treasured dearly but now you found yourself craving for something more.

You might be oblivious however he wasn’t. He saw the way you’d blush when he’d hold your hand protectively guiding you through a crowd or when you clenched your thighs together as you watch him working out. But he knew you wasn’t ready, although your thoughts mirrored his, your thoughts were clouded with confusion as to what these emotions were. He was willing to wait for you, rejecting the urge to destroy his years of self control.

That was until he saw you in Rodrygo’s embrace after a match. Jude gathered his things ready to finally see you and sink into your warm presence only to find you with someone else.He was aware that your relationship is nothing more than a “platonic pair”, but his self control cracked as unreasonable rage consumed him.

You felt a hand dragging you out of the stadium, into the parking lot and pulled you into the passenger seat, to then sit on the opposite side without a word.(pretend jude has his license lol)

You were about to question what the hell just happened but his clenched jaw and tight grip on the steering wheel made you hesitate a little. After a few minutes of silence you mustered up the courage to ask.

“Jude are you mad at me” you said quietly. He turned towards you with a dark look that softened a little as soon as he saw the soft gaze directed at him almost forgetting that you where in the arms of another.

He turned away refusing to let your eyes deter him and asked “what were you doing with Rodrygo baby” his calm tone that once offered you comfort now fills you with unease.

“Rodrygo is also my friend Jude i was congratulating him on the win” you tilt your head in confusion you didn’t see why you need to offer an explanation.

He lets out a sarcastic laugh that made a shiver run down your spine but that didn’t stop your frustration.

“ i don’t see why you have an issue with this you don’t-” he cuts you off.

“finish that sentence Y/N go on i dare you”

your mouth clamps shut in submission surprising the hell out of you. He exists the car and walks over to your side and opens it. Even his rage couldn’t stop him from taking care of you and it made your heart flutter in your chest.

He takes your hand taking you up to the hotel room where you were staying until you two return back home from Barcelona. He swipes the card key opening the door and pushes you onto the wall beside it.

“Jude ” you’re silenced by the hand the creeps up to your waist. You can feel the anger vibrate off of him and form into a state of desperation.

“i love it when you say my name baby it drives me fucking crazy, ” his voice filled with a need that mirrored your own.

“jude-” he groans which makes your body fill with warmth and shock.

“did his arms feel this good y/n” he questions as he rests his head in the crook of your neck, his breath ticking the special spot that made squirm.

“n-no” his hands go up his jersey that you were wearing and he rests them on your stomach. The heat of your body clashes with his cool skin leaving your mind hazy.

“you’re already gone, and i’ve barely touched you sweetheart” he chuckles in a way you found so attractive it made you freeze in his hold. This was wrong he was your friend.

“jude ”you whine and his grip on you tightens.

“hmm” he groans into your neck again heightening your arousal.

“friends don’t” you were to shy to carry on, to admit what’s happening between the two of you. However, Jude wanted to hear you say it. He needed to hear you say it.

“best friends don’t what ? i wanna hear you say it baby go on” he looked up at you but his gaze was too much to bare so you look away.

“b-best friends don’t touch each other like this” you stuttered. Deep down he knew you were right but his frustration was clouding his judgment.

Your chest moving with every breath, the slight tremble your body omits is enough for him to bend you over right now and have his way with you.

"okay then ill back away and we will pretend this didnt happen" his voice so soft it sounded like a whisper, he saw the disappointment quickly surround the lust in your eyes. Jude felt his shorts tighten around him begging for release.

"is that what you want y/n you want us to be just friends?" he taunts as he raises those hands further up your body. God those hands drove you crazy you never want him to let you go.

The undiscribable feelings you felt now made sense, you wanted everything he wanted to give you, forgetting and remaining in the comfort of friendship was the last thing you desire.

You desire him. The words you want to say were stuck in your throat, the ability to express them were always denied in his presence, so you look away only for him to turn your head so you can face him again.

" nah baby i want you looking straight at me" his grip on your chin is firm. His eyes overwhelmed with determination. "tell me" he says.

"i-i dont want that jude" he gives you a nod in encouragement telling you to go on, which makes you drip with arousal and confidence which leads you to utter;

"i want you jude" you take step closer even though it was impossible with how intertwined your bodies were.

" i need you jude" you whimper in his hold as he moans at the juxtaposing innocence and lust swimming in your eyes. He brings you into a long awaited kiss that conveying the burning desire and desperation, making you both dizzy.

Jude’s thoughts we’re preoccupied with one thing…

You needed him.

[sofywp]

Ellie x reader

The night was tense. Intense. Cold. The space inside the cabin seemed to shrink under the weight of the tension hanging in the air. The fight between them was just another one of the week, one of many that had accumulated over the months. On one side, Ellie leaned on the wooden table, her body rigid, breathing heavily as if trying to hold herself back. Her eyes were red with anger and frustration. On the other side, YN stood against the wall, arms crossed, her face expressionless but her chest full of emotions ready to burst.

The silence was cutting. Ellie was on the verge of exploding, the words dancing on the tip of her tongue, ready to escape without a filter, as they always did.

— You think I’m not trying? — Ellie suddenly yelled, her voice echoing through the cabin. — I’m doing my best, YN! I’m trying to deal with all of this, with the shit that happened. But it’s never enough for you!

YN closed her eyes for a moment, trying to control the wave of frustration threatening to overflow. She took a deep breath before opening her mouth, her voice coming out cold and firm.

— Trying? — YN repeated, incredulous. — Trying how, Ellie? You barely talk to me. You spend your days drowning in your own pain, pushing me away. I’ve been trying, but you don’t even see that. All you see is Joel, your guilt, your anger.

The mention of Joel made Ellie stiffen. His name was a wound that never healed, a scar she couldn’t stop picking at. The memories of his death still burned in her mind, haunting her. But instead of opening up, she shut herself off more and more, sinking deeper into her own demons.

— You don’t understand! — Ellie shot back, slamming her hands on the table, her body shaking with rage and pain. — You’ll never understand what I lost. What I carry.

YN uncrossed her arms, her eyes fixed on Ellie, but now with something colder. She stepped closer to the table, her patience exhausted.

— I won’t understand? — YN said, almost in a whisper, but with a sharp tone. — I was here for you, Ellie. Every damn time you woke up screaming in the middle of the night, I was here. When you had your panic attacks, I was the one holding your hands, breathing with you until the world stopped spinning. I was here when you couldn’t even get out of bed because of the weight of your guilt. But you, you were never here for me.

Ellie clenched her fists, YN’s words hitting a fragile spot she had been avoiding. She knew YN was right. For so long, Ellie had been selfish, consumed by her own pain, never thinking about how it was affecting the person beside her. It was as if she was drowning in a sea of grief, and YN was always there, trying to pull her to the surface, never receiving anything in return.

— It’s not fair... — Ellie began to say, but her voice cracked, weaker now, as if she was doubting her own words.

— Fair? — YN laughed, but without humor. — Fair is something you’ve never been. You don’t think about anyone but yourself, Ellie. Not once have you asked me how I’m doing, how I feel living in this hell alongside you. I’m exhausted.

YN’s gaze hardened, more resolute. She stepped up to the table, grabbed the glass of water that was there, and before Ellie could react, she threw the water at her, soaking her hair and dripping down her face. Ellie’s shock was immediate. She stood still, paralyzed, as if the impact of the gesture went deeper than just the physical.

— You gave up on us a long time ago, Ellie. — YN murmured, her heart racing. — Today... I don’t want you anymore.

Ellie quickly wiped her face with her hand but said nothing. What could she say? She knew she had been selfish, knew she had neglected YN while drowning in her grief and guilt over Joel’s death. She knew she had let their relationship slip through her fingers while she lost herself more and more.

YN took a step back, her eyes teary. She didn’t want things to end like this, but there was nothing left to do. What she had with Ellie was shattered, and she finally realized she couldn’t keep sinking with her.

— I tried, Ellie. I really tried... — YN whispered before turning toward the cabin door. She paused for a second, as if waiting for Ellie to say something, anything, to fight for them. But all she heard was silence.

She opened the door and walked out, leaving Ellie alone in the chaos they had created. Going to bed, now sleeping without her love by her side.

(Hey! This is my first time posting here on tumblr, and my first imagine of Ellie. I loved watching TLOU)

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Cry, Baby

[A/N: I mean… did we really think I could have a month dedicated to kink without Thomas Shelby?]

🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x female reader (spanking, dacryphilia)

“How many times-” Tommy grits out, his hand cracking against your flesh and sending a jolt along the entire length of your spine, “How many fucking times have I told you not to come into my office when the door is closed?”

“I’m sorry,” you whine, choking on your apology when he slaps your ass again before roughly palming one of your cheeks.

“And what was it you needed, hm?”

“Just-ah!- wanted to see you, Tommy, love,” you answer, the blush blooming across your face matching your skin reddened by Tommy’s punishing right hand.

“You’re lying to me,” he responds easily, momentarily pausing on doling out your discipline to tug your panties aside and sink his middle finger knuckle deep into your soaked cunt. “And you know how I feel about that, pet.”

You let out a low moan before coming to your senses and pressing on, “Not a lie! I did want to see you.”

“And?” Tommy goads, curling his finger to massage your walls while you squirm in his lap, uselessly rutting against his muscular thigh.

“And-” You hesitate, your voice growing softer before confessing, “And I wanted you to fuck me.”

He laughs at that, low and deep in his throat, before slapping you again, lower this time so his palm comes into contact with your aching pussy, and simply responds, “I know.” You let out a sharp cry at the sudden sting of pain, and Tommy repeats the action three more times in rapid succession until he can feel your tears darkening his grey slacks and you can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing into your stomach where you’re folded over his lap.

“That’s it, pet,” he murmurs with a wicked grin, raking his fingers through your hair and yanking your head back so he can see your ruddy, tear-stained cheeks. “You know I love it when you cry for me.” You take in a shuddering breath that morphs into a hiccuped sob when palm meets flesh again, and Tommy lets out a low groan in response.

You feel debauched, degraded, and utterly fucking beautiful.

Turning your head to look up at your love, his brooding visage blurred through wet eyelashes, you smile at him and murmur, “I love you, Tommy.”

He leans down, his tongue darting out to catch a stray tear rounding the apple of your cheek before slipping past your lips in a heady, all-consuming kiss that leaves you breathless. “And I love you, naughty thing. Now, what are you going to do next time that door is closed, hm?”

With a cheeky grin, you ask innocently, “Come in and beg for attention?”

He lets out a sharp exhale in time with his palm striking your ass again, growling something under his breath vaguely reminiscent of incorrigible brat. Then he lets your dress fall back into place before lifting you into his arms, and you tuck your face into the crook of his neck, happily breathing in his familiar smell.

Tommy can feel your wet lashes brushing against his skin every time you blink, and his cock twitches in his pants at the thought of those teary eyes looking up at him while he fucks your throat raw. He opens the door to his office, reveling in your soft gasp when you hear the muttered voices of the men Tommy was meeting with obediently waiting in the long hall. Clearing his throat as he passes by with you cradled in his arms, he announces with a smirk, “Gentlemen, we’ll pick this up tomorrow.”

[lilac-den]

TSR Snippet - A Tired Day

Warning: Contains angsts and self-loathing for MC!

It's been three days since I lost them.

Two nights since I last had a good night's rest.

And merely an hour since the final day of the funeral was over.

The rain is heavy, the air is cold and everything just seems so...numb.

I stare at the doorknob in front of me, connected to my new apartment that Benefactor decided to give me as a gift.

"You don't have a place to live in, right? Just take up this one. Don't worry about rent. Consider this an investment."

I still don't get why ze wants to hire me. But I don't have much in me to question further, nor the choice to refuse the offer. The cops went and turned my old apartment into a crime scene and, because of it, the landlord blames me for the 'mess' and 'noisy ruckus' that she doesn't even let me grab my stuff to properly move out.

"Get out before you get more of my tenants killed!"

I finally gather enough energy to grasp the doorknob and twist it, swinging open the door.

The new apartment is brand new, which is surprising already. There's no odd smell or broken hinges, nor are the flooring and walls marred with past damages from previous tenants or residents.

Everyone would love this place.

I stop just before the flooring and begin pulling my feet out of their shoes.

"Welcome home, [Name]!"

I lift up my head.

But no one is there, no one waiting in front of me.

I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch the bridge of my nose. I must be imagining things.

Even lifting my feet feels so heavy as I take my first step in unfamiliar territory. I don't even make it to the couch. I simply let my body drop onto the floor and let the weight sink me against the wooden surface.

"[Name]! What are you doing?"

I lift my head slightly, eying a familiar pair of feet and legs.

"You shouldn't be sleeping here! Come on, get up. I'm bringing you to bed."

"No..." I wave her off. But her voice persists. I can even tell there's a pout on her somehow, like a faint presence with significant warmth.

"No, you're not going to sleep here!"

Hands wrap around my arm and in that brief moment, I feel bits of warmth. I move my hand to grasp for that warmth.

I only touch my own fingers.

I blink and find myself facing the empty space.

I could have sworn-

I close my eyes and refuse to let that thought go on. I prop myself up with my arms and exhaustively move off of the floor. Feeling particularly heavy, I look down at my clothes, heavily soaked from the rain outside.

Shower.

I close my eyes and sigh. I can imagine Maverick telling me with a stern gaze, more worried about me catching a cold than getting the floor dirty with my drenched self.

I make my way to where I believe the bathroom to be. It is a small apartment, fit for one person. The Benefactor has mentioned there to be two bathrooms - one for guests, the other a personal one.

I step into the bedroom, opting for the personal bathroom. I turn on the lights.

The bedroom isn't much, but it is at least furnished. A king's size bed, a bedroom closet, a window overlooking the night sky and a door of what I imagine to be the bathroom. The walls and floor are in cool colours; not too bright to hurt the eyes nor too dark to be absorbed by it.

It feels so big to stay here.

I continue my walk for the bathroom, my clothes already sticking against my body with its soaked embrace. In spite of my wet state, I move over to the bathroom sink and my face with the water in the hopes it was cold like the one in our previous apartment.

No surprise, it's warm. I raise my head to look at the mirror.

Enid's eyes stare back at me.

Guilt and pain consumes me and I headbutt against the mirror, a resounding crack echoing against the bathroom walls.

Something crimson runs down my face, around my nose and off my chin. My reflection stares back at me, my own eyes blazing.

Why?

Why did it have to be them?

It should have been you, I hear my voice. Whether that's reflection talking or me saying it...I can't even tell anymore.

Then I laugh. I laugh and laugh and laugh as something warm and fresh run down my cheeks while my head tears apart with its wound, the pain my only source of relief in this bleak oblivion.

But the heartache is still there, reminding me of all that I lost.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

Part Nine: Drownings

Chapter Directory: Here

Current Installment: You are here!

Author's note: Inspired by the 1950s short story "The Man Who Came Early" by Poul Anderson. I rewrote this seven times and had an unrelated mental breakdown. I'm still not happy with it but at least everything that was in the outline is in this version. No major trigger warnings for this chapter. Also on ao3 here.

Burial Mound, Cumbria

Matthew slid beneath the water, practically consumed by the dark concentric circles flowing out and lapping gently at the stone. They had built the spring like an inverted broch, no mortar, all perfectly fitted stone.

“No!” Arthur was whipping off his coat. The wool would only become waterlogged and drown him. His body was a spring, energy coiling from shin to shoulder, arms thrown up over his head to break the surface tension, anything to give him an extra boost to get and clasp his son to him. Toes off the ground, arms snatched him back.

“No!” Rhys was slamming him to the ground like he was a boy, and Mother was a corpse upon a driftwood throne. There’s scuffling. He flipped himself over, white-hot rage replacing whatever desperation was before.

“Let me go!” It was always English when they argued, a force of speech as effective as a spear point since the Angles.

Rhys drove down, rolled him over, face in the moss and clover of the Cumbrian soil beneath his face, the heart of him a thousand years ago and forbid him in a dead language. More loss. He wouldn’t take more loss. But his arm would snap if he struggled anymore.

“Rhys.” Brighid was pulling him off. “Rhys, let him go.”

“No!” He shot back at her. “Absolutely not—”

“You have too.” She looked gentle now, not fearsome. Herself, St. Brighid, not the warrior goddess mother left her to inherit. Soft clover, her prized cattle roamed rather than the wine-dark seas that thrashed her shores. Her hand released him.

Rhys was protesting, but he wasn’t fighting or wrestling. Arthur couldn’t hear him or Brighid now. Their voices were silent; Alasdair was on the ground, shed of his clothes, bleeding from a cut on his hairline. He almost snorted. Brighid would have had to strike him as hard as she could to stop him. Alasdair was saying something, mouth open to the French that was so familiar, calling after his favourite nephew. But his attention was gone now. The water spoke to him with Alfred’s laugh.

He dove.

—

Sometimes, when Matthew hasn’t slept, the ice starts whispering at home. Singing or whispering, luring him with cracks in the seracs as serpentine as a woman’s hips. It whispers about how much of him is already frozen. He can rest as much as he wants if he lays down and slips into blue-black waters. It sighs and tells him he can close his eyes, and everything will be all right. Tempts him. He’ll be so numb, but for a good reason. Everything would slide away, and he would be as empty as he felt. Sometimes, the ice sings.

And sometimes, he answers. He’s laid himself down into a gap in the pack ice for a nap so casually that the frigid water rushing over him feels gentle, not cold and cutting. Matthew has closed his eyes and let himself float away. He could emerge in a few months with the spring melt, float up, and return refreshed and rebuilt. Any absence unconsidered, and anyone who might have eventually noticed usually yet unbothered. 

The spring sings like that, in a gentle burble instead of staccato groans but promising nonetheless. His brother’s laugh has gone quieter, disappearing under the water. The dry stone edge of the spring is cold under his hands, but the lure is louder, and the water is not so cold. Words his aunt sang drop from sounds flesh might make to the deep metallic of something like bronze clacking on stone. Like wind forced through chimes or a horn. The water sings like that, a hymn for the missing or maybe the mad, urging him on as he let himself sink and then swam down, searching for a bottom as he kept one hand on the round stone wall. 

Then, the world was rotating. The light had gone so bright. Turning, he slammed against the stone, what air he had left bubbling out of his mouth and gurgling away. Fuck. He tried to twist and paddle up; he could swim like a fish, but something had snagged—no! Something had grabbed and hauled him up from behind. He must have been running out of air. His vision flashed red, even against his shut eyelids, and he broke the surface. Heaving, he groped for stone but found green and freshly cut wood boards. A woman looked down at him, a bucket fitted together of wood in her hand. Her hair was pulled out of her face in a crown of braids. The linen shift she wore draped off her shoulders and dipped below the neckline of her bodice, a style that had been popular when he was a child, but it was her eyes he’d locked on.

“Katya?” She looked a bit healthier than he’d ever known her to be, but her eyes were the same sky blue. Hope and harvest blue. He would have recognized her if he didn’t have eyes, though, because that part of him that was hers sang louder than the water or the shout coming from behind him. Something was pulling at his shoulder. He didn’t care. Matt pulled himself closer. He could smell summer wafting off her.

Her surprise turned to something tender, and her hand lifted to his face and beckoned behind him. Someone else was saying his name from his shoulder. He didn’t care.

“I’m not what you’re looking for yet.”

“Yes, you are.” He said. “I’ll always look for you.”

“But not yet.” She insisted. Pushing his soaking wet hair off his face. “Return to my dreams, wraith.”

“Katy—” He was being dragged away then. She didn’t look sad but hopeful.

“Swim.”

“What the fuck— DAD?”

“My sons and their cocks, I swear to God.” Arthur was griping, and Matt was spinning, looking for a handhold to climb the wall of the… was it a well he was inside of? It was not a spring; the water was too cold and too dark. He was shivering. Katya was there, happier than he’d ever seen her, and he was stuck here, pushed away, banished.

“Matthew!” Two hands on his face, making him look. His father was soaked but deathly serious. “Focus.”

“What?”

“Focus on your brother and swim.”

His father’s voice cut the panicked babble of thoughts, and he heard the laugh again. He sucked in the air and dove. If it was one thing he was, it was a good swimmer, reaching out and down, striving forward. He has never seen such darkness. Only the odd, purposeful tap on his calf keeps him in contact with his father. They don’t have much time before Arthur begins to freeze, or they burst for air. His lungs are straining, individual bronchioles tracing branches of pain through his chest when light shines. Harvest gathering greens, mostly, then woad blues and sparks of red like fruit. If only stained glass could flow and distort light like tide pools, it would look like this. He can’t tell which way is up then. He can’t breathe. He’s blacking out, hand reaching for his father’s tumbling form next to him as they fell rather than swam. The colours drained from the world, and rushing water froze, black and fractal.

Then he’s on his back, and his father is slapping him across the face. He jackknifes into consciousness. Dad’s there, dripping like a drowned rat. But his body is normal. No blood showed, no bones were broken, and strength flooded back into his extremities as his body staved off hypothermia in the much warmer air.

“What the fuck was that?” He gasped.

“Breathe.” Arthur is a bit frantic. They’re both shivering. “Focus.”

“Where are we?” Matt was so confused. He recognized stones, the well. But there were so many trees. The trunks were as tall as any he had at home, taller than anything that had been replanted after they’d been hacked from him to build the empire. The rainbow of smeared colour still danced in his eyes and his vision smeared.

“Not where.” Arthur was pale. “When. I haven’t had this many oak trees since before your brother was born.”

“When?” Matt practically gagged on a shiver and laid back down. “Was that—Was that the rainbow bridge? Like the sagas?”

“The— Rainbow bridge? Really, lad? You gawking at Kateryna was the single most heterosexual thing I’ve ever seen you do.”

The less relevant his sense of humour, the more fucked they were. But the blood rushing back into his fingers and toes hurt ungodly amounts. He lost focus again, the trees blurring into the low clouds like brushes into well-used rinse water, only revealing the buttresses of his grandmother’s pre-Christian cathedral in the foliage. Better than stained glass.

He’s lying there, aware of Arthur having gotten to his feet, but not other people, until there are voices. He sits again. A small caravan of wagons heaped with goods stands at the edge of the clearing, and his father is speaking with them. He can only make out so many words. He almost thinks they’re speaking Dutch for a moment, those fluid, almost gurgly sounds Jan makes when he’s happy and well fucked. His body feels so normal now, warm and boneless, like he’s eaten and slept so much he needs to sleep more. He’s supposed to be alert but can’t understand what’s being said. He tried to learn Beowulf by heart once when he was a boy. Before Jack was born and no one cared enough to call a strange creature at the end of the frozen world kin, he’d poured over the pages of an ancient cracked book bound in even older leather. His father has no such issues, understanding or being understood.

“Hƿelċ tīd is hit nū?” He recognized the word for time, but the man laughed and replied in a way that took Matt the logic of forming half-forgotten grammar into a sentence that might not even be the same. That is something for the priests. 

More words. He only caught the last two. Ælfrēd Cyninġ.

He sat straight, lightning running down his back. Alfred. Ælfrēd. The pressure of normalcy pushed his consciousness from all sides, embracing that empty, silent despair of days and days. It filled him back with life, like warm water over the cold. Not so near, not so strong, but there. Alive. His brother was in existence.

[mochiwritesstuff]

Laugh

Karl Jacobs x GN!Reader

Warnings: nothing really, just a bit of angst

Once again her laugh made him burst into a fit of giggles. You wondered why he only paid attention to her, only laughed at her when you clearly went out of your way to get his attention. You watched as Karl mined more blocks, quickly standing on top of the block of wood he would soon mine only for him to barely chuckle at your character falling in front of his and continue on with his previous conversation with Tina, breaking into another fit of giggles at one of her jokes. 

The longer you sat there the worse you felt like you didn’t belong. Talking would be between the two of them, even when you did speak you only received a dry reply. You finally gave up, figuring that he wouldn’t notice the lack of your presence.

“Hey, I forgot. Alex asked me to record something with him so I’m gonna go.” You lied in hopes of some acknowledgment. When you got no response you exited the game and call, finally allowing yourself to break down. As if he’d see it, you sent him a text, telling him you left the house and where you went. Grabbing a few things, you walked to the nearby park.

The cool breeze surrounded you as you trudged to a spot near a tree. Tears pricked your eyes as you sent down a blanket and removed your shoes. It was unbelievable, he asked you to join him and Tina in Minecraft only for him to forget you were even there. It would hurt even if it had been the first time but he’d been doing this for a few weeks now. Days he wasn’t filming videos he’d be spending with Tina.

“Fuck you, Karl,” you muttered, lying down and letting tears fall freely. After what felt like hours, your eyelids grew heavy. You sighed and let your eyes close and allowed sleep to consume you. ~ “Y/N, wake up bunny.” whispered a soft voice. You cracked open your eyes, seeing a mop of fluffy brown hair in front of you.

“Karl?” you mumbled, sitting up, rubbing your eyes, and wiping your mouth.

“What’re you doing out here and why are your eyes red and puffy. Were you crying?” he asked, scanning your face and putting a hand on your shoulder.

“I just needed some fresh air, I’m fine.” you brushed his concern, standing up and picking up your things.

“You don’t look like you’re fine, what happened?” he pushed.

“It doesn’t matter, let's go home,” you said, already starting to walk away. You knew you'd have to say something eventually but you didn’t want to have this conversion right now, you were tired and wanted to go to sleep.

“Please, let me hel-”

“Fine, you wanna know what it is. It’s you, Karl, you and fucking Tina!” you yelled, cutting him off. When he didn’t say anything you continued. “For weeks now you’ve been blowing me off for her, everything you do is with her. You stopped noticing me because of her. I’m your fucking partner Karl, not her so please stop fuckin ignoring me you know how I get when I’m alone for too long. I’m sorry if I sound clingy or needy but I have every right to be after not having anything for weeks.” He was shocked, he hadn’t realized he’d been neglecting you for so long and hurt you so badly.

“I’m so sorry, I-”

“No, don’t even bother saying you’re sorry. If you are, you'll prove it to me somehow but saying that means nothing.” You stared at him, you felt bad for snapping but after weeks of neglect, you couldn’t take it anymore. You looked away and walked back to your shared home, not bothering to look back to see if he was following. 

Once inside, you made your way to the bathroom. The only thing you wanted right now was to shower and sink into your mattress. You took your time showering, letting every emotion wash away. When you got out, you were met with the sight of Karl on the bed, a fresh pair of pj’s and underwear laid out for you. You thanked him and quickly changed into them. Finishing your nightly routine, you lay in bed, facing the wall, and closed your eyes. ~ The smell of food woke you up from your slumber. Yawning, you slowly stood and stretched your body. Walking down the stairs, you entered the kitchen to see your favorite breakfast out on the table.

“Eat quickly, we have plans today,” Karl said, placing your drink next to the food. You thanked him and sat down. The food looked amazing for someone that's not the best at cooking.

“Plans?” you questioned, taking a bite.

“Yup, we’re gonna spend the whole day together, no interruptions,” he said cheerfully, seating himself next to you. “You don’t need to dress up too much by the way.” you nodded and continued on with your meal. ~ “Karl, can you take this blindfold off me now? You asked as Karl grabbed your hand and dragged you with him. You both had spent the day going to stores, arcades, and even watched two movies. When he told you he had one last surprise for you, you didn’t expect him to put a blindfold and bring you to who knows where at 11 at night. “You know I don’t like surprises.” He giggled at you before finally stopping.

“Give me ten seconds to fix something, then I’ll let you take it off.” You could hear a bit of rustling as he put the finishing touches on his surprise. “Okay, go ahead” You gasped softly as you removed the blindfold and saw a large blanket set out on the ground, your favorite take-out on top along with a CD player and CDs of your favorite songs. You could see a few more blankets and pillows set on the side as you looked around. You turned to face Karl with a big smile on your face.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been giving you proper attention lately,” he said, taking your hand in his. “The guys helped me set this up while you and I went out. I hope today made you less mad at me. I mean it's fine if you still are cause I can keep wor-” you cut him off with a soft peck on his lips.

“I’m not mad baby, I promise," you said, a soft smile on your face. “Today is perfect, thank you, baby.” 

Karl giggled before pulling you in for another soft kiss, pouring all his love into it as he held you close to him. After pulling away he kept you close to him as he layed down on the blanket, grabbing another to lay on top of you both.

"I love you," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "I love you too."

[fullmela]

いかないで "Don't Go" - Written by Mela

This short story was inspired by the beautiful song covered by Dimash of the same name. Please listen to this gorgeous song before reading.

His airy voice accompanied with his emotional belting made me think of a troubled spirit, hence the creation of this story.

I hope you enjoy <3

Do not repost story without proper credit.

"いかないで" Don’t Go.

By Mela

Darkness. That's the only thing I could see. A colorless void of nothing that stretched on forever, expanding into the sea of unknowing. I couldn’t see my hands as I reached them out in front of me. I couldn’t hear my feet as I traversed this unknown darkness. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn't warm either. 

Why couldn’t I remember what I was doing? I feel like I’ve been stuck in a very long dream, one that I can’t seem to recall. I tried to reach back into the crevices of my mind and illuminate some sort of remembrance of who I am, but there's nothing there, just like the space around me. 

It carried on like this for a long time. There were no days, no nights. No sunrises or sunsets. It was simply nothing. I didn’t even have the ability to recall how long it's been. Had it only been a few seconds? I couldn’t seem to figure it out. I tried to touch the ground and feel the material of what was below me, but there was no sensation. Wait, what is a sensation? What does that feel like? How do I know what that word is? 

The only ‘sensation’ I felt was emptiness. As if someone stabbed a hole through my heart and let the insides bleed into nothing. I felt as if my blood had turned black and my soul had been crushed. A word had suddenly come into mind. A word that held no meaning until that very moment. ‘Loneliness’. The feeling of being without anyone else. The pit of despair that you can’t crawl out of. A cliff that you are forced to hang onto, but no one will come to save you. It’s an angry feeling. A sad feeling, a fearful feeling. It consumed me, turning my insides boiling hot. It didn’t hurt, but it did at the same time. 

That was until one day. The day when the word ‘day’ came back to me. A crack in the ceiling. Something so simple. It tore away piece by piece, letting in the sweet yellow rays of light. I could feel its warmth as it streamed in, I could hear the wind above me. 

At that moment, I remembered the smells of flowers. The sounds of animals. Images flashed before my eyes so quickly I could hardly keep up. Snapshots of smiles, feelings of joy. I was overwhelmed with emotion, bursting at the seams. Yet, I couldn’t cry. The sob stayed trapped in my throat.

Now that the sun had made its entrance, I was able to piece together where I was. The dark walls formed into hard, gray stone. Water dripped from the ceiling and collected in a small pool just in front of me, the sun beams casted on the water created a bright green light. I put my hands out in front of me, finally able to see the pale blue twinge of my skin. It looked foreign to me. Unnatural. After so much time spent in the dark, it felt that the hands I was staring at didn’t truly exist. I moved my fingers up and down in a rhythmic pattern. My fingernails were dirty and purple. My skin was wet, taut, as if it would break apart at any moment. I reached them forward and stroked my cheeks. I almost vomited from my calloused fingers finally connecting with flesh. The feeling sent waves of electricity down into my toes. 

It was then that I first saw you. Your hair was long. The color of caramel. Your eyes were deep pools of blue, I found myself wanting to dive into them and sink into blissful nothingness. A nothingness that was different from the one I had been experiencing up until this point. It was a nothingness that wrapped me in a warm embrace and guided me along a fresh sea of contentment. The sundress you wore was white, made of thin fabric that layered over itself. Your skin was pale with rose kissed onto your cheeks.

You walked into my cavern with a frightful elegance. Your lips were pursed and irises darted around in confusion. I tried to walk towards you, but I found that I couldn’t move. I tried to speak to you, but my voice refused to break through. I couldn’t recall if I ever had a voice to begin with. So all I could do was watch as you made your way deeper into the crevices of my cage. You stopped by the water, reaching down with your hand and jostling the stillness. The rings ebbed outwards and slowly diminished back to their original place. 

I watched as you felt the stone walls with the palm of your hand, some of the particles dusting off and clattering to the floor. You looked at it with an innocent amazement. I watched as you came closer to me. Another word came to mind as you approached. ‘Anxiety’. I didn’t want you to come closer but I didn’t know why. I tried to back away but my feet were cemented. I felt my chest bursting into stars, my gut turning inside out. My esophagus blossomed into flowers as you got closer.

 Closer and closer. Your footsteps clattered against the barren floor. I reached out. I thought if I could just touch you I'd be reminded of all the things I forgot. If I could just feel you, the suffering would end. I didn’t know why it would, but at that moment I knew nothing else. 

 You gazed upon me, your pools of blue widening into orbs of terror. A hand clasped over your mouth as tears pricked your eyes. You fell to your knees and sobbed, yet I couldn’t hear you. Your hand was shaking as it reached out towards me. I reached back, but as we collided, I went right through you, like a thick fog. You reached further into me. 

That was when I realized you weren’t reaching out. You were reaching down. I was puzzled. ‘What could have you been reaching for?’ I thought to myself. There was never anything below me. There was no ground, no feelings. No rocks or stones to pick up. No water to slosh your hand through. Yet, you reached. I followed down your shoulder to the tips of your fingers and just past them, I saw what you saw. It was as if the veil covering my eyes had been removed at that moment. 

It took me a long time to realize what I was staring at. Hair, jet black. A white button-up with red seeped into the fabric and blue pants that were torn at the ankles. Arms that were splayed out, as if they were reaching for something…

It flooded my mind like a tsunami, the lake of stillness disrupted in that moment as you graced your finger across a lock of the hair. Memories becoming clear as day seeped into my mind through every crevice of my being. It went through my ears, my mouth, and my nose. It burned, my body was on fire. It hurt. It hurt more than anything I've ever felt before. 

My hands… My white-button up… My black hair… My blood. You were staring at it with such sadness. I was bombarded with grief, fear, and anguish. But most of all, I was filled with rage. Rage. As pure as the sun my rage burned. This is where I died. This is where I was murdered. 

In that moment, I was finally able to realize those flashes of memories. The smiles and the joy were all you. You. Everything crashed downwards. I felt my body for the first time and crumpled to my knees. I released the sob that was choked up in my soul, I screamed out, thrusting my head back as I wailed like an infant, yet you still couldn’t hear me. You couldn’t see me. I begged for you to look at me. I screamed only mere inches from your face. I tried to wipe away your tears.

But I was invisible to you. Totally invisible. It was then that I stopped crying. I stopped screaming, and I simply drank in your image. You had gotten older, only slightly. Your hair was much longer, however. I tried to utter your name, but it died on my lips. I tried again, but I found that I couldn’t remember it anymore. I couldn’t… I couldn’t… Why?! Why couldn’t I remember your name?! 

It was then that you stood. Tear tracks staining your puffed cheeks. Your hands were clenched together, attempting to quell your trembling. You turned your back to me and began to walk away. 

I wretched myself free and tried to run towards you, I tried to grab onto you, to follow you, but the chains sprang from my body and wrapped around my ankles and wrists. They snaked around my neck and pulled me backwards until I was unable to move at all. I couldn’t see my hands anymore. I couldn’t feel my skin anymore. 

“Don’t go!” I screamed. “Don’t go! Don’t go! Please don’t go!” I begged and pleaded as you continued to walk away. Loneliness shoved itself back down my throat and I choked on its presence. 

As you left my sight, the sunbeams melted away. The crack above me stitched itself together. The stone walls shadowed back into darkness, the water evaporated into the sky. I let out one more guttural scream, begging for your warmth, your heart, your company. I begged for you to stay, until my voice was cut off and I was enveloped in total darkness once again. My memories faded, my words were forgotten… 

All I could say anymore, 

Was いかないで.

[starseedfxofficial]

Labor Force Participation Rate & Liquidity Pools: The Overlooked Secrets Behind Your Next Big Forex Trade Imagine this: You're a captain navigating the high seas of the Forex market, looking for treasure in uncharted waters. Suddenly, you come across two ancient scrolls labeled "Labor Force Participation Rate" and "Liquidity Pools." What do you do? Most traders would toss them overboard and keep searching for that "holy grail" indicator. But the insiders? Oh, they know that these scrolls are treasure maps that can guide you to untold fortunes. Today, we're going to unpack these hidden gems and reveal how you can use them to chart a path to profits. But before we set sail, let me share a secret that even some of the pros overlook: most traders get so caught up chasing the hottest, newest technical indicators that they forget the fundamentals — the economic cogs that make the market wheel turn. Enter the labor force participation rate and liquidity pools: not exactly flashy, but undeniably effective when you know how to wield them like the financial ninja you are. The Hidden Force Behind Market Moves: Labor Force Participation Rate Now, if you're wondering, "Labor force participation rate? That sounds like something I slept through in Economics 101," you're not alone. It's a measure that many traders disregard, and that's exactly why it's one of your secret weapons. The labor force participation rate is essentially the percentage of the working-age population that's either employed or actively looking for work. Why does this matter to Forex traders? Because it provides a sneak peek into the health of an economy beyond the unemployment rate. Think of it as the behind-the-scenes statistic that reveals whether people are even willing to look for a job. A sudden drop in the participation rate can indicate deep-rooted economic malaise, leading to lower consumer spending and potential monetary policy shifts. And let's face it — monetary policy shifts are the winds that make Forex sails move. To give you some real-world perspective: back in 2021, the labor force participation rate in the U.S. took a nosedive due to the pandemic, while unemployment figures told only half the story. Those traders who paid attention saw the writing on the wall — central banks were forced to reassess, resulting in dramatic market moves. The takeaway? Monitoring the labor force participation rate allows you to spot underlying trends before they hit mainstream headlines and prices start moving. Liquidity Pools: The Not-So-Secret Weapon for Precision Timing Let’s move on to liquidity pools — and no, I’m not talking about the kind of pool that’s ideal for summer barbecues. Liquidity pools in the Forex market are areas where a large volume of pending orders sits, typically at key levels like support and resistance. Picture a piñata stuffed full of juicy orders, just waiting to be cracked open. Liquidity pools are that piñata, and understanding where they are is how you find out where the big money is playing. Think of it like this: if you've ever had that "Oops, I just hit the 'sell' button instead of 'buy'" moment, only to watch your trade sink faster than a bad sitcom plot, it’s probably because you misunderstood liquidity. Large institutions set up these pools to absorb liquidity, meaning they can execute their massive orders without too much slippage. For you, the savvy retail trader, identifying these zones means you can piggyback on these moves or dodge getting caught in a trap. But where do you find them? The answer lies in volume profile analysis and market sentiment tools. You see, big banks and whales don’t just waltz into the market making careless orders. They lay in wait at key liquidity zones — often at round numbers or previous daily highs and lows — to gobble up orders, creating the kind of market momentum you want to catch, not fight against. How to Use Labor Force Data and Liquidity Pools Together for Market Domination Alright, here's where the real magic happens — blending fundamental insights from the labor force participation rate with technical analysis of liquidity pools for a double-barreled approach to market dominance. Let’s break it down step-by-step so you can see how this strategy can lead you to the promised land (or at least to some profit). - Assess the Labor Force Participation Rate: Start by looking at labor force data releases, typically published by the likes of the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics. A rising participation rate is usually bullish for a currency, as it shows increased optimism about employment opportunities. Conversely, a declining rate hints at underlying problems that might prompt central banks to adopt a dovish stance. - Identify Key Liquidity Zones: After assessing the economic sentiment, move on to your charts. Identify key liquidity pools by looking for consolidation areas, round numbers, or previous highs/lows. This is where you’ll most likely see the big players entering or exiting the market. - Look for Confluence: Timing is everything. Wait for moments where economic data from the labor force aligns with price sitting at key liquidity zones. For instance, a dovish surprise in labor data might cause the price to test a support zone where there’s a huge liquidity pool. If it breaks through, the momentum could provide a strong sell signal with relatively low risk. It’s like the stars aligning—the economics and technicals agree, and you’re ready to capitalize. A Quick Anecdote for the Cautious Traders Remember Bob? No? Well, Bob is that guy who bought a pair of bright neon green shoes just because they were on sale, only to realize he had nothing to wear with them. Bob is also the type of trader who dives into a trade just because "everyone's doing it." He never understood liquidity pools, and instead of making strategic moves based on where the big players set up shop, he would chase breakouts blindly, ignoring the underlying economic currents. Don’t be Bob. Be the trader who understands when the market is primed for a move and when it's just a trap for those poor neon-green-shoe buyers. Game-Changing Tips: Liquidity Pools Meet Real Economic Data - Patience Pays: Don’t jump into a liquidity pool just because it’s there. Wait for price action signals, like a rejection wick or a strong volume spike. Remember, the big boys are patient; you should be too. - Double-Check with Labor Data: If the participation rate is falling, and you're eyeing a key liquidity zone for a breakout, think twice. Chances are, the economic context isn't favoring a bullish breakout. Combine the economic backdrop with your liquidity analysis to boost your odds. - Be Where the Big Boys Are: Liquidity pools are not random. They're where institutional traders gather. By identifying them, you're essentially aligning yourself with the giants who have the power to move the market, and trust me, that’s where you want to be. —————– Image Credits: Cover image at the top is AI-generated Read the full article

[mx-yip-yip-hooary]

HI OK LIFE HAS STOPPED EATING MY BONES

chapter 11

Yoojin and Yoohyun's sibling relationship >>> i love them so much

Yoohyun: "what do you have there"

Yoojin, holding yet another child: "a smoothie"

“And he's here because he was lonely and wanted to see you. Isn't it right?” dokja slicing into people's trauma/insecurities like butter

"And this kid's aura, it doesn't quite feel like nothing after all. More like a void." FOURTH WALL COMING IN CLUTCH

chapter 12

"In this family everyone carries at least one knife." im going to scream kdj you pathetic miserable wet meowmeow of a man and your incredibly traumatizing backstory

i absolutely love the slight changes in wording for each pov. like how yerim says "dad" and adosuhgjkbskdfjkgdthe little details,,

yerim really woke up and chose violence

"Yerim still has no idea if dad handled it on his own or maybe Donghoon showed himself or maybe Dokja told the woman some secret of the universe or something." extremely Dokja-core of him to just casually spill the truth of the universe to protect his loved ones

WAIT HE GOT WHAT

HE GOT

HUH

man about to be saved with the power of FOUND FAMILY

"Oh, right. So it works even with someone… dying. Right there." ive been trying to decipher this for the past minute. what are you hiding you sneaky character.

“My first kill was a human.' He mutters to other teen, trying to again process what happened moments before.

'…' Dokja takes a deep breath and after a long moment he mutters, so quiet even with all the stats Donghoon barely catches the sound, 'Mine too.”

chapter 13

"When the body of the kreke fell to the floor Yoojin fully expected to feel the flow of memories and power that comes with his most hated skill. It didn't happen."

DOES HE KILL PEOPLE AND CONSUME THEIR POWER. IS THIS WHATS HAPPENING.

"Yerim somehow seems to be talking faster the longer she speaks and she is pressing herself into him in a hug that might end up dislocating some joints. Maybe cracking a rib. That probably was one of his ribs." they mean the world to me.

HE USED THE -IE HONORIFIC !! also im not korean and most of my info comes from surface level googling, however, from what i know this shows affection :] they found family your honor ,,

" (you know the internet pacing between few sites in frustrating circles? that) " felt author. i literally have a stool in my room so i can walk up and down on it to let out energy

THEY GOT A PET!

chapter 14

"Dokja pulled heavy guns on facts and logic" very dokja like hit reblg

"Dokja makes a surprised face. Serves him well." i am a simp for sarcastic/humorous prose

WAIT ITS JUST SINKING IN THEY'RE USING GLITTER SHIT NO YERIM PUT THOSE AWAY EVERYONE IN THIS ROOM IS GOING TO BE FINDING GLITTER FOR YEARS

i love sally so much. my ugly lizard lad. i am making flower crowns for them

"Glitter was really a perfect choice." you will think back on those words with malice dokja/yerim (im not sure whos narrating). i swear to you. when you find sparkles of glitter in your hair 5 years later i will be sure to say "i told you so" /lh (my hate of glitter is largely exaggerated.)

uhoh i have a bad feeling about this dungeon buying. dokja this might go wrong you are CHILDREN

"Like they couldn’t just stop. But there is one thing that will get them to work together. A common goal. And he just knows how to give them one. It could implode but it feels like a ticking bomb anyway.

Dokja pulls earrings out of inventory and he can basically feel the weight of a trio S-rankers staring at him as they recognize the item. The argument stops dead in its tracks." dokja you goofer. you funker. youre so fucked. this section made me chuckle audibly

dad the kids are scheminggg dad this is probably gonna end in disasterrr daddd

The S Ranks I Raised x ORV crossover. (Dokja as awakened 16 yo, with YJH as *summon*)

Yay or nay?

i'll be honest i have never read S Ranks I Raised (tbh my orv fixation kinda came out of no where-- i usually don't read webnovels heh) but i would say go for it ! :] ill still read it and just. reverse engineer anything about S Ranks I Raised. its going to lead to some wildly insane ideas about the novel but thats part of the fun

[wisteria-blooms]

long hair & tattoos (bill weasley & reader) (10/15)

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

A/N:  Once again, my apologies for the delay. Work and life has been all kinds of hectic but I will get this story finished! As always, I appreciate your patience + kind comments! :) TAG LIST MOVED TO THE BOTTOM. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged & if I missed you!

CHAPTER 9: The middle of August always signified the beginning of a Malfoy summer. Luckily, you had Bill this time around to weather it. 3k words

CHAPTER 10: A MALFOY SUMMER

"The summer is all in bloom; the summer is ending soon."

Brrrring.

The discordant sound of an alarm signified the end of your restful slumber and the start of another workday. Eyes firmly shut, you reached back overhead to smack your alarm clock, perched on the window ledge where it always was. Instead, your hands met a soft headboard. Confused but still half-asleep, you reached even further back only to be met with more of the leather headboard. You cracked an eye open. Gone was the usual speckled off-white ceiling, and in its place, were gorgeous light fixtures. Startled, you got up immediately and threw the covers off your body.

You turned around and glanced at the ringing alarm clock on the nightstand. It read 7:00 A.M.  You reached over to turn it off. Your feet met the carpeted floor as you strode over to the ceiling-length windows. You pushed the pleated curtains to let the morning sun in. When you saw the clouds beneath you, it was then that you realized: you’d fallen asleep overnight at the penthouse. You’d promised Bill to make dinner the night before, but instead, you snoozed through it all.

Mortified, you ran out of your bedroom and sprinted across the hall, peeking into every room you passed. His office was empty. You then descended the stairs. “Bill?” you called out, your voice echoing through the first floor.

Bill, though, was nowhere to be found.

The only indication that he was here previously were the scent of coffee and some dishes in the sink. On the kitchen island, there was a folded note standing up by its edges.

Bank opens early today. Help yourself to coffee. Hope you like toast and eggs? Bill

You eyed the steaming French press on the kitchen counter. There were eggs and toast in the pan right beside it.

Your heart fluttered at the thought of Bill carving some time out of his early morning to prepare something for you. Likely, it had been him that set your alarm too. And he hadn’t bothered to wake you in the night, asking you to get home; he was perfectly content to let you sleep in the guest room.

Shaking off any embarrassment, you went to the bathroom upstairs to freshen up before breakfast. Like the rest of the penthouse, it was unnecessarily grand. Fluffy white towels were hung by the bath, mirrors graced every wall, and Bill’s toiletries were organized in perfect line. The bathroom at the flat, in comparison, was the size of a closet. To be fair, you were more excited at the prospect of not having to get ready on your bedroom floor this morning. You even flirted with the idea of taking a dip in the Jacuzzi before work. Maybe next time—if there was a next time.

As you tamed your morning hair in the mirror, you caught the corner of your lips lift in a smile. There would only be a couple more weeks to bear with Fred and George before you could spend time in wondrous silence with Bill in France.

Work at the Ministry proceeded as it usually did, and were you ever glad when the monotonous day finally drew to a close. Bill consumed your thoughts all day and you just let him. Primarily, you had to wonder if he cared for you beyond how a normal friend would. Did he just let anyone sleep over? Did he make breakfast and leave notes for all his guests? Did he accept your invitation to summer with your family out of altruism, or did he really want to go with you?

“Where were you last night?” Fred asked when you entered the shop in the evening. “Didn’t hear you come back, or see you leave this morning.”

You had no answer. Fred took your silence to mean the worst.

“Did you go to Bill’s?”

You sewed your mouth shut.

“Wait,” Fred said excitedly, his smirk growing as he tied up loose ends of his own story. “You mean to say you spent the night at Bill’s, but are too embarrassed to admit it?”

“(Y/N), you what?” George piped up from the back, his head popping up from a stack of boxes. “You slept with Bill?” Typical George Weasley, always the master of the broken telephone game.

You deflected his blatant misinterpretation with more silence. What you didn’t say with words, you responded with a shrug of your shoulders and mischievous look – eyebrows raised and a small grin. Slowly, you retreated to the stairs and backed up on the first step.

“Wait up,” Fred called. “We need more details.”

You shook your head and turned away from Fred and George, leaving them in pure disbelief and with burning questions. But you learned today something today while ruminating (read: fantasizing) about Bill: maybe you didn’t need the answer to everything just yet. Instead, you’d just leave it in fate's hand.

Persistent clouds and rain maimed the first two weeks of August. ‘A quintessential English summer’, you murmured under your breath. You supposed it drummed up proper anticipation for the French Riviera, where it never saw a speck of wetness this time of year. You had met with Bill at the penthouse this morning before apparating to the manor to keep up appearances. You walked, feet and suitcases in tandem, through the front gates of the manor from which you’d be departing. Though you’d grown up in the very estate, it seemed foreign after a few months of not being here.

“Did you bring enough work?” you asked.

“Do you suppose this is enough?” Bill asked, lifting a modestly-sized leather suitcase. He gave it a quick pat. “I brought everything and more. It’ll get me in tip-top shape when I’m back.”

You nodded, catching a glance of Bill before he turned around. You arched your head upwards, as he was always at least a head taller than you, to catch a glimpse of his bright eyes. They did a marvellous job at lighting up the skies above; there was decent cloud cover and the air once again smelled of impending rain. You then chanced a surreptitious glance at his attire: a pale blue dress shirt that complimented his eyes, khakis rolled up to the ankles, a jumper draped around his shoulders, and leather loafers. His shorter hair was slicked back for the occasion. Your heart went into overdrive thinking about how he went from the Bill who looked like he was going to a concert to looking like every other guy you’d grown up with. He was a walking advertisement for the French Riviera and you were very bothered by his newfound sophistication.

“Good thing you have a jumper on,” you remarked.

Bill looked at you, confuddled. “Last I checked, it was sweltering in the French Riviera.”

“But the ride there is cold,” you said. Realizing Bill wasn’t aware of the journey, you added, “We take a voyage through the ocean before getting to France. We apparate from there.”

“Why the extra step?”

“To mimic actual travel?” You shrugged. “It’s like when my mother goes to her charity events at St. Mungo’s. She doesn’t do work, she just likes to pretend she does.”

After a few moments of silence, a memory stirred in your mind. You decided to relay it to Bill as small-talk. “You know, when I was six and Draco was four, we decided we wanted to skip the family dinner and swim instead.” You made a face. “So, we changed into our swimsuits just before we left for the docks in England.”

“I can’t imagine your parents let you do that.”

“They thought us helpless, gave up the will to argue, and let us wear it on the ship.”

“Did it work?”

“No, we froze instead!” You laughed. “Draco was a pudgy toddler, but he gets cold easily, even now. We bundled up in one of my father’s robes and sat in the cabin the whole time. The memory is forever entrenched in my mind.” You pulled at the hem of the light sweater than you’d tossed over your flowy culottes. “I suppose it’s why I’m so worried about the cold.”

“It sounds like something Charlie and I used to spearhead,” Bill remarked. He ambled along with a hand in his pocket and his suitcase swinging in the other. “A united front against going to a family reunion. But I guess we had more bodies to protest with. Fred and George are dead weights, impossible to drag off the floor as mum and dad regretfully learned.”

“How did they get them off the floor then?”

Bill mimicked the motion of a wand, circling his wrists and then flicking his hand downwards in a sudden motion. “A zap to the bum. Highly effective.”

You giggled. Maybe you should’ve done that to Fred every time he refused to do something you asked.

As you passed the perfectly-trimmed shrubs and the marble fountain, a tall figure slowly came into view. You squinted. It was Draco, leaning against a pillar, who stood under the archway leading to the double doors.

“We were just talking about you,” you greeted.

“You’re late,” he responded coolly, looking at his watch.

“We’re ten minutes early.”

“Try thirty next time,” he responded with a tsk. He pushed himself gracefully off the pillar. “You’re losing your touch, living away from civilized society.”

Regardless of his tone, he gestured for your suitcase. He looked at Bill and turned his nose, leaving him to fend for himself. Bill was nonplussed, evidently not needing help with the ease he was carrying his luggage with.

“Shame he used to be so cute, hm?”

“And pudgy?” Bill added, making you grin again.

You mimicked his wobbly gait with your free hands, as best as you could remember it. “He’d be waddling up the steps if he was four again.”

Draco left you to walk in his shadow, maintaining a generous distance from you. You and Bill followed him to the lobby. The room was immaculately clean as it always was before a vacation. Lucius and Narcissa were already there, inspecting the manor’s security mechanisms with Coopey, your other house-elf that would stay to oversee the main estate when you went off to France. Lucius’s eyes flickered from Narcissa, then to you, then to his watch. Whether he was upset about your ‘late’ arrival or the fact that you’d just walked in with Bill, you didn’t care. Draco dropped your luggage off by the fireplace and returned to his spot beside Astoria. She gave you a wave that you responded to.

Your mother was next to greet you, wordlessly slipping away from her husband to embrace you. You placed your hand on her back. Well, at least someone in your family was happy to see you.

“Hello,” Lucius greeted slowly. “William.” The next sentence came out slow and tortured. “How nice of you to join us.”

“Hello Mr. Malfoy,” Bill responded. “Thank you for extending the invitation to me.”

Lucius cleared his throat. “We must get going,” he said. “The ship is departing soon. I was hoping to leave much earlier had it not been for some late arrivals.”

You rolled your eyes. It seemed like you didn’t miss much in your two-month absence.

Dobby nodded in agreement. He gestured to Bill’s suitcase. Bill handed it over, and Dobby walked back with it to add to his collection by the fireplace.

“Where to?” Bill leaned in to ask you.

“Windermere Docks,” you responded. “I’ll take charge.”

You and Bill stood back, watching everyone else line up. Your mother and father were the first to step into the large fireplace, and given its size, you could travel comfortably in pairs. Back in the day, Lucius would hold onto Draco and Narcissa onto you. Now it was Lucius reaching out for Narcissa’s hand, Draco reaching for Astoria’s, and you to Bill’s. There should’ve been nothing extraordinary about Bill’s hand meeting yours, but it sent an electric jolt from your fingers to your heart. You scolded yourself; you needed to be calm and resist the urge to jump Bill’s bones if you wanted to get through these two weeks with your sanity intact.

You threw down the floo powder and stated, “Windemere Docks.” The last thing you saw was Dobby and the pile of luggage before green flames consumed your vision.

When your feet landed on solid ground, a dock leading out to a grand ship hovering over a sparkling ocean came into view. The wind grew heavy, blowing your hair and pant legs in a wayward manner. Bill kept hold of your hand as you walked along the dock. He also guided you up the wobbling steps to board (which you were utterly chuffed with).

The ship departed in no time after you settled in. Draco and Astoria hogged the bow, taking in the view of the endless waters. Your mother was reclining on the deck, reading a book and your father was beside her, examining some papers.

“Let’s get down to the atrium,” you suggested to Bill. You didn’t see a chance of mingling with your parents or Draco and Astoria.

“What’s down there?” he asked.

“You’ll see.”

Like everything given the Malfoy touch, the ship was unnecessarily grand, providing suites and a dining area that sat unused. You led Bill down the stairs to an unsupervised and very well-stocked bar tucked in the atrium. Bill stood back as you opened the little gate keeping the bar closed with ease like you’d done this before. “You’re going out to your concert again,” you said, leaning against the table, eyeing him through the beer taps. “What are you having?”

“Is this a good idea?” Bill asked hesitantly. “In front of your parents and all.”

“Always the voice of reason, Bill,” you hummed. “But dinner is far more tolerable when you don’t understand what’s going on. So, go on, I won’t leave until you’ve ordered something.”

Bill took a breath before deciding to oblige, slowly taking a seat at your bar. “Whiskey. On the rocks.”

“A fine choice.”

You pulled a shiny glass from behind you and began procuring the necessary ingredients – ice and an expensive bottle of whiskey. Bill was watching you, slightly impressed that you were a decent bartender. All was going well, except when you topped off the glass with whiskey. He looked like he wanted to say something about your proportions, but refrained. You slid his drink over, and proceeded to pour yourself a glass of wine.

Bill raised an eyebrow, watching as you poured double the amount typically appropriate for a glass. “It’s a good thing you don’t work at the bar,” he remarked. “You’d make no money and everyone would be over-served.”

“It’s my own bar,” you retorted. “I manage my own finances,”—you filled your glass even higher— “and consequently, how much I want to pour and drink.”

You raised your overfilled glass, the wine wobbling precariously on the edges. “To France,” you said. “And Bill Weasley’s first Malfoy summer.”

“To my first summer here,” he responded, holding his glass up. “And to the worst bartender I’ve ever seen.”

You shook your head in disagreement then clinked glasses with Bill. As the smooth and no doubt expensive Cabernet Sauvignon ran down your throat, you couldn’t resist another look at him. Merlin, did he look handsome like this, his tousled, windblown hair framing his face and his perfect jawline accentuated as he leaned upward to take a sip of his drink. The position exposed more of his bare neck, and you were wondering if he’d enjoy your lips running down—

“How long do we have until we dock?” Bill asked, setting his glass down and bringing you back to reality.

“About two hours,” you responded, your heart still rapidly beating in your chest. You swatted away visions of Bill in less clothes than he was in now. “We’re cruising at a leisurely pace.”

“So, I suppose we’ll be going to that family dinner tonight when we land?” Bill asked.

“No,” you responded. “Well, I’ll be going. But I managed to get you out of it.”

“Oh, shame.” Bill sounded dejected, but still held an underlying tone of sarcasm. “I was looking forward to meeting the extended family you spoke so highly of.”

“I appreciate the sarcasm,” you said with a laugh. “But you should be glad. They’re worse than my parents if possible.” You deepened your voice and layered on an aristocratic manner of speaking. “Lucius, have you considered owning another estate or two? The family has never had less than five properties per brother. Well, at least you’d be the first at something if you did.”

Bill guffawed. “Less than five properties?”

“Can you believe it?” you asked with a shake of your head. “Even one is enough, I reckon. Uncle Théodore is a nightmare. And my cousins really take after him.”

You spent the next few hours chatting, your conversation interspersed with a hankering to sample as much of the top-shelf liquor of the open bar as you could. Conversations with Bill came easily, just like how they should. The light waves melded with Bill’s low voice and you wished the captain would steer the wrong way so the voyage would never end.

Your idea of heaven ended when the ship began to slow down. You alerted Bill it was time to get back to the main floor. You ran up the steps with a sufficient amount of booze in your system and Bill in tow. Before you knew it, your arm had linked into his again, the warmth of his arm on your cold one. Goodness, did the alcohol ever make it easier to touch him, something you were afraid to do when completely sober and cognizant of your feelings. As you came into sight of your family again, Draco eyed you in disapproval.

In your haze, you looked back at him and your family. Everyone favoured a lighter shade of dress: Narcissa in a cream-coloured gown; Lucius in a matching suit; Draco in a navy button-down shirt and white shorts. Under illustrious appearances and August nearing a close, it was no doubt just the beginning of another Malfoy summer.

>> NEXT CHAPTER

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