#soullessness made him so boring for me

[lesbiansanemi]

Uh oh. I accidentally liked a marvel movie. Losing my media snob credibility immediately

[dcggone]

i think ill taking an office position at this philosophy club i joined at school. i say that knowing the workload ive already taken on is daunting and a wee bit scary

[sydnikov]

Fleeting || A. Svechnikov

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Andrei Svechnikov / fem!Reader

Word Count: 17.5k

Summary: Every moment with Andrei is fleeting.

Warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f and m receiving), cheating(?), toxic relationship, alcoholic consumption, angst, cursing, no happy ending, Andrei-is-a-dick™

A/N: For those of you who have already been following me, you might remember this post—that’s what this is based on :) This is also the longest fic I’ve ever written so that’s insane, but sorry not sorry. Get ready, this one’s gonna hurt 🤭

*Minors, you are responsible for your own media consumption. That being said, I will not block you for interacting with this fic or my blog, but always be aware of the content you choose to consume and the consequences it can have.

Andrei doesn’t love you.

It becomes clear for you months after you start fucking him on the side. His likeness for you is merely an obsession, something to have all to himself.

You’re his, or were his, and that’s how he saw you. Nothing more than that, or at least that’s the conclusion you’ve come to after months apart lets you reflect on your relationship with him.

Spending a lot of time in your head, you think. About him, his actions, why he couldn’t love you the way you love him.

He always held you close to him, one muscular arm curled around your waist while the other likely held a drink in his hand. He paraded you around like a prize, happy to show off the hot piece of meat he likely thought of you as at his side.

It was hard to reach him, literally and metaphorically. You had to stand up on your toes to reach his ear, and the power imbalance just by your height difference alone only made the whole thing hotter, merely one aspect of your relationship you never really could get over.

Every time you spoke it had him grinning in a way that made you think he knew something you didn’t. You’re already so shy, too, and it’s what made up your whole demeanor, what drew him to you in the first place.

He likes sweetness. Innocence, quiet—that way you couldn’t rebel. And he loved it when you doted on him. You did your best to be everything he wanted in a girl, too. Bold makeup, skimpy clothing, speaking only to him and him alone. Best of all, you didn’t question him. His actions, his decisions, why he’d sometimes go days without speaking to you but once he called you again, you would come running without hesitation.

It took you too long to realize that he only liked you because you were someone he could fall back on when the freedom of his escapades got too boring and he needed stability. The thing is that Andrei loved you being his, but he didn’t want to ever be yours.

And you know this now, you do. The moment you went no contact and left his apartment in tears, you were calling your best friend for support and to reinforce the fact that he is the asshole, not you.

Sometimes, though, you dream. Of his hands on you, his mouth on your neck, his thick cock pounding into you from behind. The toxicity of it all that, despite everything, felt so good because your emotions were always on overdrive when with him.

Mostly, you liked feeling desired. Nobody had ever pursued you the way he did, even if your body is all he really wanted from you to begin with.

It’s been months since you confessed your feelings for him and he told you to leave; months of you wallowing, going to work, meeting with friends for drinks as a shell of yourself because without Andrei, life suddenly seemed colorless.

You miss him. The excitement, the tension, the way he made you feel. And you pride yourself on being confident, but all self respect flies out the window the moment his name is brought up. It’s wrong, too, you swear you know this, and you imagine countless times telling him off, if you ever run into him again.

For treating you like a body to warm his dick, a soulless individual with no feeling… You’re reminded of the last conversation you had with him yet again, the one that ended everything. You’d been seeing each other for months when it occurred. Months full of Andrei and the rollercoaster of emotions he had you on.

To get to the end, though, you have to go back to the beginning.

It’s January of twenty twenty-three, and you’re freshly twenty-one and experiencing the world in a way you never could before. Riding the high of getting your first serious job in college, it took no convincing at all for you to let your best friend, Maria, convince you to go out on a Friday night to celebrate your blossoming lives.

“Who are we meeting there, again?” You ask, painting your lips a bright red in front of Maria’s full-body mirror. You’ve already started pregaming, and your head is starting to buzz in just the way you like it.

Your blonde friend is quickly curling her hair, despite the fact that she’s had hours to get ready and still procrastinated until you arrived at her apartment. “Some friends from work. You probably won’t know them,” She says offhandedly, finishing her hair in record timing before snatching up the two dresses she had previously laid out on her bed. “Should I wear this in black or red?”

Raising a brow, you question her wording. “Considering I don’t work with you, I doubt I would.” Laughing, you turn your head away from the mirror to examine the two dresses she’s holding up to her body. “Do the red one, it makes your eyes pop.”

Anything would look good on Maria, though. She has this timeless sort of beauty, a blonde, blue-eyed bombshell that has eyes turning her way wherever she goes. You’d be jealous if you didn’t mind her taking all the attention off of you, considering you’re nowhere near as bold as her.

It will especially come in handy tonight, too, since these co-workers of hers are ones you’ve never met before and you don’t exactly plan on getting too close to them.

“This is why I get ready with you,” Maria sighs happily, unceremoniously throwing the black dress back onto her bed. “Oh! I almost forgot, I have heels for you!” She’s then running back into her closet, ruffling through a box before emerging with a pair of bright red stilettos.

“What’s with the red theme tonight?” You giggle as she tosses the heels to you. They look expensive, a brand you don’t recognize written in cursive on the inside of the leather soles. Maria insisted you incorporate red into your outfit tonight, whether it be subtle or bold.

She eyes you from her position on the bed, somehow managing to zip up her dress one-handed. “You don’t watch sports by any chance, do you?”

Throwing back the last of a vodka shot, you wince before responding. “My dad made me watch baseball with him sometimes?”

Maria’s face lights up like she suddenly knows something you don’t. All she does is hum in response, biting her lip like she’s holding back from telling you something.

Or, you’re just drunk. You’ve always been a lightweight. “What?” You ask anyway, finally standing up as you adjust yourself.

The blonde walks over to you, fixes the creases in your little black dress and affixes you with an approving stare. “Don’t worry about it,” Suddenly, she’s whirling around to go back for her phone, which is laid faced down on the nightstand. “Ooh, I knew those heels were a good choice. You look so good!”

As she saunters back over, wraps an arm around your waist, pulls you into her side and poses for a picture, you forget all about the abrupt topic change and the fact that her red theme with questions of sports does mean something, after all.

Truthfully, you still can’t remember exactly how you got from her apartment and into a high-end bar you’ve only ever seen advertised online. Bits and pieces of an Uber ride along with downing more shots come to mind, but it’s all hazy.

You don’t really care to remember though, either, as Maria leads you through the crowded bar, arm linked through yours, with a purpose. The music is loud, so loud you think you can see the walls moving, but that’s also probably just your swimming vision.

“Here they are!” Maria is shouting over the noise, and you follow her gaze to a group of tall, imposing men surrounding two booths right by the bar.

“Those are you coworkers?” You ask, a little incredulous. Scratch that—very incredulous.

She sends you a mischievous grin. “I said friends, girl. Meet my friends!” That’s what gathers their attention, and you’re suddenly reminded that she’s just as tipsy as you right now, if not more.

Ah, fuck, you think as one of the men come over and pull Maria into a hug. He looks at you questioningly after they pull apart, and you send him a small, nervous smile.

Damn it, Maria.

“You must be the friend she mentioned,” He says, again looking to the blonde beside you for confirmation. “From college, yeah?”

That seems to snap Maria out of whatever stunned stupor she’d been in, and she tunes back into your conversation by, again, pulling you into her. “My best friend,” She swoons, and yeah. She’s definitely drunk now.

“Nice to meet you,” He’s chuckling, and seems to be familiar with her antics. “I’m Martin.”

You introduce yourself and shake his offered hand. “Any leftover shots, by any chance?” While taking the lead in conversation with people you’ve never met before might seem odd, you don’t think you can rely on Maria to socialize for you considering she’s already falling into your side.

“I can check, if you want to follow me—ah, shit,” Martin curses, suddenly, then quickly apologizes to the two of you before rushing over to a man with a mustache attempting to climb on top of a table.

“Interesting friends, Maria,” You say into her ear as you reluctantly follow him, keeping her close. “Who’s the one with the mustache?”

She seems to gain a little bit of her wits back to give you a description of all the guys within your eyesight. “The mustache is Seth, super friendly but also, uh… Super drunk. He’s Canadian.”

You’re not sure why you need to know his nationality, but she continues before you can ask.

“And you just met Martin, right? Yeah, he’s really nice. His girlfriend, Nykki, is gorgeous, they’re both from Czechia. Then there’s the really tall one, behind Seth? No, other side. Yeah, that’s Jesperi. A bit of a flirt even though we’re all pretty sure he has a girlfriend, but he still won’t admit it. He’s Finnish.”

Maria continues to describe a few of the others, but truthfully, you tune out after Jesperi because a man about the same height as the Finn is suddenly approaching the group, and looks to be the only one Seth listens to because that’s who gets him to crawl down from the table.

You don’t know why he catches your attention so suddenly, but something about him… He turns, and you’re able to catch a glimpse of his side profile.

Immediately, you come to find there’s no accurate word to describe him. His beauty simply transcends any compliment you could give; instead, you interrupt your friend from her spiel.

“Hey Mare, Mare—who’s that?” Slapping her arm, you point towards the now-laughing stranger. He’s looking around as he does so, which is when he makes contact with your starstruck eyes. He looks amused, then seems to recognize the blonde beside you, and then he’s cutting through the crowd to meet you.

Maria gives you a look before also spotting the approaching stranger, and a large smile lights up her face. It’s a smile you’re very familiar with, one that enraptures every man who catches a glimpse of her pearly whites.

You quickly come to the conclusion that this is why she was so eager to go out. She’s likely had her eye on him for a while, and you struggle to keep the disappointment from your face as she purrs his name.

“Hey, Andrei,” She says, a little giggly. “Great game today, you all played awesome.”

Andrei… You test the name silently, liking the way it feels on your tongue. He’s even taller up close, and you can see the muscle definition straining through the fabric of his shirt. He’s huge, and you feel incredibly small standing next to him.

“Thank you,” He replies, his voice deep. A little husky, definitely accented, but you’re not sure from where. “Who’s your friend?” He changes topic quickly, and those dark eyes are back on you once again.

Maria, as ditzy as she can be, does notice the subtle change in him. Andrei has never been overly flirty with her like she has with him, and she’d be an idiot not to notice the way his eyes were drawn to you the moment he spotted you.

She’s used to having all sorts of attention from the opposite sex, and the Russian hockey player is all sorts her type. It’s amusing though, watching how you melt under his gaze, thinks ‘me too’, and then decides to help you out.

“This is my friend from college,” She introduces you, says your name and watches as he takes it in like it’s very important information. Grabbing your hand from where it rests at your side, she holds it out to Andrei for you, snickers as you send her a glare. “And this is Andrei. He plays for the Carolina Hurricanes.”

This is why she asked you if you watch sports, you suddenly connect the dots. And why she was telling you where all these people are from. Her friends from work are actually sports players, and you understand why she didn’t say it outright.

These guys, they’re famous, right? Your stomach twists, and you suck in a breath as Andrei takes your hand. His palm envelops yours, and he brings it to his lips to press a heated kiss to your skin.

The greeting is outdated, but for whatever reason it suits him. You think the kiss is a promise, too, as his thumb swipes over the back of your hand.

“That’s hockey, right?” You intend to ask Maria, but you’re unable to take your eyes off of Andrei as he slowly lets go of you, like the contact is riveting for him, too. “In the NHL?”

“Yes,” He answers. “You don’t watch?” You’re not a fan like he’d expect. Strangely enough, he likes that you don’t follow them. It makes you all the more interesting, someone new to pick apart for his pleasure.

You flush, turning red under his unrelenting gaze. Suddenly, you feel out of place with your lackluster hockey knowledge. “Not a huge sports girl, unfortunately.” You say slowly, but he catches your quiet words anyway.

He’s already tuned into you—has made you into a new game to win, in his mind.

“I can fix that.” Andrei grins, and it’s almost predatory as he smoothly slides his left arm around your waist. “Do you mind if I steal her?” He directs his question to Maria, but doesn’t really give her a chance to answer before pulling you  away.

Turning your head, you find her sending you a grin as she mouths something encouraging, holding up two thumbs-ups. She’s already decided that if she can’t have this sexy Russian, she wants you to instead.

“I like your heels,” His deep voice is in your ear, suddenly, and you take your eyes off of Maria to look up at Andrei, instead. “They’re the color of our jerseys.”

“Thank you,” You breathe, letting the warmth from his compliment wash over you. “Maria made me wear them.”

He clicks his tongue, like this information doesn’t surprise him. “She has good taste. Red is definitely your color.”

You flush again, finding that his eyes are already on you when you tilt your head up. Nobody has ever told you that before… Maria is always the one getting praise, not you.

The fast beating of your heart, shaky limbs and nervous breath, and you already know you’re falling for it. His charm, his looks, his confidence; it’s addicting, and you can’t force yourself to stop as you ever so slightly lean into him, letting his body envelop you.

Before you know it, you’ve arrived at the bar, and Andrei orders a drink over the loud bass that reverberates in your ears. It appears moments later - not fair - and then he’s sliding it towards you. You meet his eyes again as he smiles, raising a brow at your silence before he gestures to take it.

“For you,” He says. “Vodka cranberry. I have a feeling you like the fruity drinks, no?”

He’s right, as much as you hate to admit it. You’re not one for sipping hard, bitter liquor, even if it gets the job done. You’re not sure how you feel about him being able to read you so well, but you do like not having to carry the conversation.

“Am I that transparent?” You grin, though it’s laced with insecurity as you take a sip. It’s good, and helps calm your nerves.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve, malyshka. It’s not a bad thing.”

You wouldn’t know it then, but he already began patronizing you the moment you met him. The Russian language is full of double-meanings, and malyshka, little one, is rather mocking. For him to know you so well already was a good thing for him, but for you? Not so much.

Andrei sees right through you, and he has from the very beginning.

“You’re not American, are you?” You change topic, suddenly, using the unfamiliar term he used as an excuse. “Your accent, it’s foreign.”

“Net—no, I’m not. Most of my teammates are out of country.” He replies. “I’m from Russia. Just here to play hockey.”

“Do you like it? Here in Raleigh?” You ask, a pitiful form of small talk to keep this sudden tension at bay.

“I do.” He replies. “I like it a whole lot more now that I’ve met you, though.” And then he’s smiling again, a grin rather feral as he looks at you like you’re his prey waiting to be devoured. He’s incredibly smooth as he puts his hands back on you, one sliding around the circumference of your waist while the other brings your hand holding the drink to his lips, taking a sip from the glass.

Your eyes go half-lidded at the motion, and Andrei knows he has you—hook, line, and sinker. He loves this game, but he thinks he likes you a little bit more than that, too.

Not that he’ll ever admit it.

“You just met me,” You blurt, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze.

Andrei, to his credit, takes your nervousness in stride. He finds it cute that he has that effect on you. “And I like you,” He counters, flashing a dazzling smile. “You’re cute. Small, like kisa.”

“Kisa?” You try out the unfamiliar word, your attempt at a Russian accent definitely not as sexy as his.

“Kitten,” He translates. “Will you purr for me?” It’s so disgustingly cheesy you can’t help but grimace, and Andrei laughs at the look on your face.

He steps closer, even more than he was before, and the way he looks down on you only makes the difference in height that much more noticeable. He’s so big… Normally you’d feel caged, but with him it feels safe, and that’s probably a red flag you won’t discover until much later.

You struggle finding something to say, but he beats you to it. “I’d like your number, if you’re willing to give it.” And he’s so smooth, so conniving with the way he asks it because he’s not demanding at all, letting you think you have all the power.

“Okay,” You breathe, eyes widening in awe as you don’t even have the chance to pull out your phone before he’s sliding his own into your hands. “You can add your contact.” He instructs, watching you type in your information.

It looks informal, your first and last name in his phone like you’re merely a coworker. You’ll blame it on you being tipsy later, but you add a smiley face at the end of your name, hoping it makes you stand out. You don’t know how many girls he has in his contacts but you’re not naive enough to think you’re the only one.

You lick your lips almost subconsciously as you hand Andrei his phone back, and he zeroes in on the motion. Suddenly, he has the urge to kiss you, and so he does just that. It catches you by surprise, but soon enough you’re melting into him as one large hand cradles your jaw, keeping you tilted up to him.

Andrei tastes like sin, like temptation and all things bad you were told to never get involved in as a kid. A forbidden fruit, perhaps, and there’s even hints of cranberry left on his tongue to cement that fact.

“Andrei…” You hum in surprise as he deepens the kiss, his lips soft and heavenly. It takes everything in you to pull back, to separate yourself from the addicting taste of him. “Wait, I don’t, um—”

You pause. Andrei looks confused, perhaps a little alarmed as his eyes flit over your face. “You don’t… Kiss anyone?”

“No! No,” You lower your voice, not wanting to attract any attention. “Of course I do. I just, I don’t hook up. For fun. Ever.”

He frowns, like he can’t fathom the idea that you don’t enjoy sex with no strings attached.

“Really,” he says, not quite a question. “You’re beautiful, though.” The charm comes back full force as his hand comes to brush away some of your hair that had fallen into your face. “Surely you have suitors, no?”

Your throat tightens, and suddenly your eyes are glassy as he looks at you with so much reassurance and affection. “Maria usually gets the ‘suitors’, not me.”

“I don’t believe that.” He responds immediately, and he looks so sure of himself as his head lowers, his eyes looking back and forth from yours to your lips, and you’re helpless to stop him as the hand moving your hair comes to rest on your cheek.

It’s all very convincing, the sudden care and adoration… You’ve never had a man treat you so delicate, like a prized possession, and you fall for it all too quickly.

“Let me take you out?” He soon asks, and there’s nothing you can really respond with other than yes.

Everything happens so quickly from here. Andrei becomes a centerpiece in your life, and you’re helpless to stop it as you fall for everything about him. You don’t truly become his ‘girlfriend’, but you are something more. Secret dates and midnight drives where no one can see you confirm that.

That’s why you think he’s finally turning serious about you when he shows up to your apartment at the beginning of March a few weeks before his playoffs start. He holds a large bouquet of roses, except your favorite flowers are gardenias because they remind you of your mom so your smile wobbles a little bit, but you let it slide for the romanticism of it all.

Andrei grins, the whites of his teeth blinding and he pulls you in and kisses the top of your head. He asks you if you’ll come to his playoff games, wear a WAG jacket and act as if what you are is official. You think you truly mean something to him after this, even though he never actually confirms it.

Suddenly you’re Andrei’s girl (but not really) and it becomes your entire identity. You essentially live with him as the playoffs come around, taking care of his apartment while he’s on the road. He talks of getting a dog over the summer, and you’re enthusiastic in your encouragement because you’ll have a friend to keep you company while he’s on the road.

His injury happens, though, and he’s out for good, at least for the rest of the season. You don’t know how to comfort him because your ‘relationship’ is so new, and it’s hard for you to understand why the anger at himself cuts so deep.

Ultimately, you fix the rough patch with sex. Lots and lots of sex. He works through his frustrations by taking you long, hard, and deep, mostly with him on top holding your throat while you take it like the good girl he tells you you are.

“‘Drei, your leg,” You remember saying to him one time as he slams you onto his bed, rolling directly on top of you. He doesn’t seem to hear you at first, too busy laying kisses to your neck.

“I don’t care.” He eventually responds, looking at you so darkly it leaves you shivering. He eats you out afterwards, and, well—you don’t have any more protests after that.

They win the first series against the New York Islanders in six games, and the moment the final goal is scored in overtime you’re jumping out of your seat along with the other WAG’s at one of their houses.

It’s exhilarating, rooting for something with every ounce of your being. You do it for Andrei - who still isn’t playing, but he was there watching - but mostly for yourself because you love the feeling of belonging to a community so close.

The second series ends sooner than the first, a five game victory over the New Jersey Devils, and this time you are at that final game. You sit with Andrei in a private booth at the top of PNC Arena, gripping his arm that also holds onto your thigh with the same amount of intensity.

The moment the final goal is scored - also in overtime - you’re hunching over your seat releasing a long breath. Andrei attempts to rise, then likely remembers his leg which forces him to grip the arms of his chair in strained acceptance.

“They did it,” You hear him whisper, like he can’t believe they actually came out of this series alive. “They did it.” He repeats himself, louder and more confident. You’re still folded over yourself, letting the anxiety drain out of you when he grabs your hand and tangles your fingers together.

“My kisa,” He says, waiting for you to turn your head so he can smile brilliantly at you. “We did it.”

“Not we,” And you grin back, because there’s nothing else for you to do but match his ecstasy. “You did it.”

“I didn’t even play,” Andrei is laughing, soaking in your praise like a sponge. “But I was here, wasn’t I?”

“You mean more to them than you’ll ever know.” More to me than you’ll ever know, you want to say, but hold back on that particular vulnerability.

After he finishes the team meeting in the locker room, you take him back to his house. He still hasn’t been given the all clear to drive, so you’ve taken up caretaker duties along with his mother.

You don’t think she likes you very much, either, but Andrei just says it takes a while for her to warm up to new people. Thankfully, she’s never around when you are though, because as you close the front door to his house he gives you a look equating to a meal he wants to devour.

Andrei seems to forget all about his knee, again, when he moves into you, pushing you back against the front door. “You drive me crazy.” He mumbles into your lips, and you don’t think you’re meant to respond as he moves to your neck.

You wore his jersey tonight, hoping it would bring the team good luck. You also happen to like how possessive he gets when he sees you in his clothes, especially wearing his name. It’s a little ridiculous, but you can’t lie and say you don’t love the attention.

Biting into your jugular, he tastes your rapidly beating heart before moving on, addicted to the sound of the moan that chokes its way out of your throat.

“I’m going to fuck you,” He breathes, massaging his hands into your waist as he pulls you away from the door. “And you’re going to love it, aren’t you? Because you’re such a good girl. My good girl.” His raspy voice leaves you holding back a whimper, and it’s hard to speak as he begins to sneak his hands under your jersey.

When you don’t respond because you’re too distracted by his hands, his damn hands, trailing up your ribs, he digs his fingers harshly into your skin. Your eyes snap open to find him almost glaring.

“Yes,” You think he wants to hear you say. “I’m yours.” You babble as his fingers let up, moving to cup your breasts over your bra as he pinches your nipples into hard points.

“That’s right,” He hums almost mockingly, hands now back to your waist as he pulls you after him to the path of his room. “No one else can make you feel like I do, yeah?”

This time he doesn’t expect a response as he pushes his door open, turning you around as you fall into his bed. Your head spins as the jersey you’re wearing rides up and Andrei quickly does the rest, slipping it off you with ease.

“Fuck,” You think he says, but you could care less as his bare hands are back on you, kneading the soft skin of your stomach and trailing back up the length of your torso. “No shirt underneath?”

“It was too hot outside,” You reply, breathless as you attempt to tug his suit and tie off, but that quickly proves to be more difficult. He tsks, thankfully deciding to aid you as he rids himself of his jacket. “You’re lucky that jersey is so thick.” He says, moreso to himself as he begins unbuttoning his slacks.

All that’s left is his undershirt and boxers, meanwhile you’re still left in your bra, jeans, and panties. Andrei must realize this too as he kicks his slacks off somewhere behind him. “Strip,” He commands, but you don’t need the reminder as you’re already one step ahead of him.

Your jeans and panties come off quickly, but it’s harder to remove your bra lying down. You eye the delicious specimen of a man above you, reaching out your hand for his own. “Help me?” You ask, biting your bottom lip before rolling onto your stomach.

Andrei mutters something behind you, but it’s clearly appraisal as the first thing his hands land on is your bare ass. He spends a few moments appreciating the view before his fingers trail up your back, unclipping your bra much quicker than you ever could have.

“You, kisa, are dangerous,” He teases, lowering himself to where his solid chest is pressing down on your back. He loves taking you from behind, tangling his hands in your hair while you’re left to his mercy.

He noses his way past your hair to reach your neck, lightly nipping the skin as you sigh, your head melting to the side so he can continue his ministrations.

“Andrei, please,” You hiss, the wetness between your thighs now too prominent to ignore. You wiggle your hips tantalizingly, hoping to catch his attention.

He grins into your neck, doesn’t respond as he presses a final kiss to your pulse point before pulling back, his right hand sweeping the rest of your hair to the side.

“You need me to touch you?” He asks, smoothing his left hand over your hip before slipping it to the inside of your thighs. His fingers find your clit, rubbing it ever so lightly to feel you flinch with sensitivity underneath him.

You tremble underneath him as he continues stroking you, and your hips jerk upward when two of his fingers slip past your walls and curl. He’s laughing as your ears ring, and already you’re so close to coming when his thumb rubs circles on your clit in time with the thrust of his hand.

Just like everything else about you, though, he knows; he knows and he pulls back before you even have the chance to swear because then the last layer of clothing between you is gone. His boxers are thrown somewhere behind him along with his undershirt, and now he wastes no time pulling your hips up, leaving your chest pressed into the bed.

So used to this familiar position, you look behind you in anticipation to find him stroking his cock, staring at your glistening pussy with barely contained arousal. You’re not sure what he’s waiting for, but then he’s sliding his free hand through your soaked lips to gather the wetness there, using it as lubricant.

“Shit,” He says, swearing more to himself before climbing atop you. It’s routine the way he grabs your hair, tangles it in his fingers while the other guides his swollen cock to your entrance. The bulbous head pushes into you with ease, finding no resistance as he sinks into you.

Andrei hisses, mutters something in Russian, then is lowering his head to press his lips to your ear. “Fuck, you’re tight. You just feel so good all the time, you know that, kisa?”

The only sound capable of coming out your mouth is a whimper as you bury your face into the sheets as his hips begin thrusting, hitting your sweet spot with bullseye accuracy each time.

The girth of him stretches you out deliciously, and it leaves your walls clenching and unclenching rhythmically in time with his movements. You mold to him like your body was made for him, like there’s no other way to exist without him taking you in such primal fashion.

Andrei’s head rests in the crook of your neck, murmuring indiscernible phrases while his hands trail up and down your body. His hips rut against your clit each time he thrusts forward, and if anything you get wetter at the thought of him fucking you so callously.

You feel like his most precious belonging sometimes, like an object. It can be disorienting when he talks to you like you’re a child, but when he fucks you it’s like that preciousness he views you with is amplified.

You flinch upward when his cock curves into you just right, and the way he coos into your ear to bring you back down only verifies that thought. He wants to take care of you, always—even if it demeans you.

Andrei suddenly rolls over onto his back, bringing you with him to where you’re the one on top with your back laying against his chest. He sits up, and now you’re in his lap, thighs spread to the side as he once again begins fucking into you.

Your mouth opens into a silent scream as your head rolls back onto his shoulder, the new angle forcing his cock into deeper lengths inside you, and it hurts but it hurts so good and why were you ever questioning how he treats you, again?

How has only one man ever been able to make you feel this good?

Euphoria floods your veins as his hands find purchase on your body, one taking your left tit and rolling your nipple between his fingers while the other sneaks down to the junction of your bodies and finds your clit, rubbing over it mercilessly.

When your stomach starts clenching and your lower spine tingles, Andrei is right back at your ear whispering encouragement. “That’s it, angel,” He praises. “That’s it. You want to come, yeah? Do it. I’ve got you.”

His name leaves your mouth as a breathless whine, and you struggle not to flinch away from his touch when it becomes too much but also not enough, and somehow he knows this and just holds you tighter.

When his cock hits you so deliciously good while his thumb swipes over your clit, you fall. You fall hard, the walls of your cunt seizing around him as ecstasy takes over your body. Sparks fly across your skin, stars filling the empty blackness behind your closed eyes and you think you’re sobbing Andrei’s name but you can’t be sure. The only thing you can be sure of is him; his cock inside you, his hands on your body, his voice in your ear, his teeth on your neck as he approaches his high.

Yours lasts for longer than normal because he doesn’t stop moving—if anything, he goes faster, because the sight and feeling of sending you into a spiral only triggers his own release.

By now you’re motionless, unable to even lift your head as it remains lying against his shoulder. Andrei’s thrusts are frenzied, more sloppy and less precise, until he’s throwing his own back with a long, pleasure-filled groan.

Eventually, he stills. His chest is rising and falling behind you rapidly, attempting to collect himself now that his mind is back in the present. You sigh, quietly yet happy, as his cock softens inside you but doesn’t move, his release slowly trickling down your conjoined bodies.

You suddenly remember that he didn’t lose a condom, but then you remind yourself that you’d stopped using condoms weeks before. You were already on birth control, and he assured you this was exclusive.

You were a fool to believe him.

Andrei soon moves, his hands taking to your hips as he gently lifts you off of him. “I know,” He says when you hiss with sensitivity. “I’ve got you, good girl…” He lays you on your back, and you don’t move from your position even as he leaves the room.

Your eyes soon flutter shut, and you curl to the side as the minutes go by with no sign of return. It’s not regret that fills your mind, no, but another emotion, something stronger than just satisfaction at getting such a pleasurable release.

You don’t dare to think of the world ‘love’, but maybe something similar to that is what you’re feeling?

It doesn’t help that just as you’re on the verge of falling asleep, Andrei comes back to your naked form while he’s now adorned in sweatpants. You merely hum as he sits on the edge of his bed next to you, one of his hands reaching out to trail up your arm. When he reaches your face he brushes away the hair stuck to your cheeks and forehead from cooling sweat, letting your skin breathe.

He says something, so quiet it’s impossible to hear over the sound of your thundering heart, and you don’t have the energy to ask as you finally succumb to exhaustion.

Andrei cleans you up after, dries the inside of your legs and slides one of his t-shirts over you. He tucks you under his sheets and pulls you into his arms, letting your hair tickle his cheeks.

The Eastern Conference Final arrives far quicker than any of you are prepared for, and games one and two against the Florida Panthers are full of anxious nail-biting and frustrated cursing when the puck hits the goal post.

Both games end in overtime losses, and the team has to play games three and four in enemy territory, down by two.

Andrei, understandably, isn’t taking it well. It's hard for the players on the ice, of course, but even harder when he has to sit at the sidelines, hidden in a booth at the top of the arena with you doing your best to comfort him.

“Why can’t they just fucking score?” You remember him hissing before the end of regulation in game two, not angry at his teammates but at the situation instead.

And himself, too, because he is the injured one. He is the one who tore his ACL making it so that he couldn’t play. It isn’t his fault, but it is at the same time and that’s what’s truly getting to him.

As the timer hit zero, he’d leaned back in his chair and grabbed your hand without thought, squeezing your fingers to the point of strangulation.

You let him, though, because at that point you’d let him do anything.

“I’m sorry.” You said, your eyes on him the entire time. It pained you to see him so miserable, and there was nothing you could do to make it better. “This isn’t your fault. It’s… Blame Bobrovsky, okay? He’s just too—”

You interrupted yourself, not wanting to say ‘good’ even if that’s true because you didn’t want to upset him with the implication that his teammates couldn’t be better.

Andrei, to give him credit, didn’t take offense. His eyes were on you the moment you started your ramble, and as you finally paused to gauge the look on his face you found amusement and unbridled affection in his gaze.

“Too good?” He finished your sentence, waiting for your meek nod of confirmation. Merely sighing, he only brought your intertwined fingers to his lips, pressing a kiss to the top of your hand. “You’re right, kisa. He is too good.”

You stay back in Raleigh while the team, including Andrei, takes flight to Sunrise, Florida. Most of the WAG’s stay back too, the majority already anticipating the result of this series.

Hours after the team’s flight, Maria calls you late on the eve of game three.

“Hey, Mare!” You answer, lowering the volume of whatever show is on the television to better hear her. “What’s up?”

“Hey, girl!” She chirps, and you can hear voices in the background so you assume she’s somewhere busy. “Just landed in Florida!”

“You flew to Florida?” You ask, choking slightly. “Since when?”

“Don’t you remember? I told you! The team needed extra people since we’re staying here for longer than a night.”

“Oh, shit, yeah,” Is all you say because you don’t, in fact, remember, and suddenly feel really guilty about it. You haven’t actually spoken to Maria face-to-face in weeks, having been caught up in everything Andrei-related.

You haven’t talked to lots of people you were close to before Andrei came into the picture, now that you think about it. It’s a problem you’re sure to reflect on when you’re done talking to your friend.

“...bunch of us are going out tonight since the game isn’t until later tomorrow night, including a lot of the team.”

Maria’s voice tunes back in, and you shake yourself out of your thoughts to catch-up. “Really?” You inquire, now suddenly interested. “Is Andrei going with them?”

You could ask him yourself, sure, but you don’t really talk about that stuff, what he does or what you do in your free time. It always felt invasive to ask because you weren’t quite sure if you even had the right to, considering the nature of your relationship.

You doubt he thinks about what you do when you’re not with him, anyway, so you always just assume you can live in the moment with him and have that be good enough.

“Dunno,” She replies. “Can’t you ask him yourself? You’re seeing the man, after all.” You can hear the smirk in her voice at the last sentence.

“Um,” You stall, because no, you can’t just ask. “He just got off the plane, I don’t want to bother him.”

“Mhm,” Maria hums, and you can’t tell if she’s suspicious or not by her tone alone. “True. I’ll just text you if anything interesting happens, okay? Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” You can’t help but laugh at her sudden hastiness, and soon enough she’s hanging up the phone with the claim that the team bus is there to take her to the hotel.

As your call with Maria is in the early afternoon, you have a while to wait before all night life in Florida begins, so any updates will take time to roll in. You know this, and yet you can’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.

Distracting yourself by shopping helps, as does meeting up with a few of the WAG’s for a late lunch. You’re able to put your anxiety in the back of your mind for the rest of the day, and as the sun sets you pull back up to Andrei’s house and let yourself in with the spare key given to you, mind at peace as you float around his living space in preparation for bed.

You almost considered his place your home now, rather than your actual apartment. You’ve been spending so much time here, with him and also alone as everything with him seems to be going so good… When you settle into his bed, wearing one of Andrei’s large t-shirts and boxers, you check your phone one last time for any updates.

There’s a few Instagram notifications, one or two emails from your university, only one message in the groupchat with the WAG’s, and a text from Andrei which is what you zero in on first.

Settled in the hotel now. Leg is hurting, so I’m going to bed early tonight. Text you tomorrow, okay?

There’s no silly emojis, no indication of any emotion in his text, and yet you read the message with a smile, insecurities officially gone. His teammates are going out tonight, not him, and you don’t have to worry about Maria texting you later because there would be nothing to update you on.

How could you have ever doubted him?

You fall asleep peacefully, unbeknownst to the fact that long after midnight, your phone begins blowing up with silent notifications from Maria. She does, in fact, send you updates of her night out, but not updates you’ll smile at when you wake up the next day.

Sunlight filtered through closed eyes is what has you slowly awakening to the world of consciousness, and you stretch your arms with a yawn before reaching for your phone first thing. It’s hot to the touch, and at first you attribute that to it being stuck under your pillow the entire night, but upon unlocking the screen you discover that that is not the case.

WTF did you and Andrei break up?????

He’s here with the rest of the guys and he’s highkey flirting with some randos???

I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were done w/ him!

You’re prettier than them btw. I snuck a few pics

Several more messages from Maria have taken over your inbox, those are just the first you see. It takes your brain a minute to catch-up, but when it finally does you’re sitting up with bated breath as you tap on one of the images she sent.

It’s definitely Andrei—you’d know his face anywhere. He is, in fact, surrounded by girls in the picture, his arm wrapped around the waist of a gorgeous blonde with a drink in his other hand, and it’s so reminiscent of the way he holds you at clubs that you know, you know immediately that this is what you meant to him all along.

The affectionate name-calling, gentle hand-holding and constant touching… You thought he looked back at you like you hung the moon, but now you’re realizing that maybe you were just projecting the reflection of your own starstruck eyes instead.

You sit up in bed, hand pressed to your forehead as a sudden headache rips through your brain. What the fuck are you supposed to do now? Remembering that you’re actually in this man’s house, in his clothes, too, has you jumping up like you’ve been burned, and you quickly exit the bedroom to collapse on the couch instead.

“Oh my god,” You whisper to yourself, in disbelief as you click through more of the images sent to you from last night. There’s no denying to yourself that he was with these women, all while supposedly having a significant other waiting for him at home.

There’s no one to witness the slow breakdown of your sanity, and you can’t even cry because you’re so in shock about what you’re seeing

Is this real? Are you real? Is this really happening?

It’s almost like a switch in your brain goes off, and very quickly you drop your phone. You take a deep breath, you bury your raging emotions, and you stand up from the couch to start your day.

You refuse to allow yourself to break down now. Not when you still haven’t spoken to him. At the very least you’ll wait until you have an explanation…

To confront him on your very strong feelings you’ve been doing your best to ignore until now, because they’re too real in the wake of this discovery to just vanish away like you’ve done before.

You need to know where you stand with him. Truly, because these pictures you can’t stop thinking about? It’s too much. You can’t pretend it doesn’t feel like thousands of little knives stabbing your heart repeatedly even if it all means nothing to him.

Everything goes back to normal. Everything is fine. You never saw those pictures, ignored Maria's continuing calls and acted as if your world wasn’t suddenly tilted on its axis.

Andrei doesn’t text you at all throughout the day, which can probably be attributed to preparation of game three, but all you can think about are the girls he might be texting.

Because he certainly isn’t texting you.

Game three results in a loss, a bad one, and it would pain you to see the reactions on their faces filtered through the television if you weren’t so numb.

He still doesn’t text you. Doesn’t call, either, and Maria eventually gives up on trying to reach you as game four approaches.

The impending doom of Andrei bares down on you like a vice, slowly strangling you in the screaming silence of his house you still remain in. Maybe this is something you should have seen coming because it isn’t the first time he’s gone radio silent, you just assumed he was busy—because that’s what he told you.

You’re starting to think that maybe you shouldn’t have listened.

You love him though, right? That’s why you believed him? That’s what you’re feeling right now, why it’s like you can barely breathe when you think of his smile or the way he’s betrayed you so?

The Panthers sweep the Hurricanes, a complete four-game victory that sends Andrei and the rest of the team licking their wounds all the way back to North Carolina. You don’t watch the fourth game with anyone but yourself and a bottle of wine while catching up on homework for one of your classes.

Becoming so close to Andrei meant you became close to the rest of his teammates too, to the point where you’d consider some of them your good friends, so seeing their faces broadcasted live after the final goal is devastating to see.

Not as devastating as the text you receive, though, in the midst of trying to figure out what to say to him the moment he steps foot inside his house.

I won’t be home tonight, heading straight out with some of the younger guys. I will see you tomorrow

Well. You can’t say you’re surprised. You’re willing to bet money he’s out sleeping with some random girl whose name he won’t remember the next day. Instead of letting the anxiety take over, anger takes its place instead.

And boy do you run with it because anger is so much better than feeling powerless. It simmers in your blood, a wildfire settling low in your stomach until you’re practically shaking while waiting for Andrei to walk through the front door the next day.

When he finally does, you’re so mad you’re numb. Your anger has turned you into a ghost, an attempt at protecting your fragile heart from more heartbreak likely to fall upon you the moment he tries to charm you back into his good graces.

Once he spots you sitting on the couch, he smiles in greeting. It’s soft, and you’d like to say affectionate, but you no longer can tell how deep his feelings run for you.

Clearly, not deep enough.

“Kisa,” He says. “How are you? I’m sorry I was out late.”

“It’s fine,” You respond tightly. Andrei doesn’t seem to notice, merely nods before walking past you to the kitchen. You follow him silently, trying to figure out how to phrase your next words.

You end up settling on a subtle approach. “I’m sorry about the games… I know it must’ve sucked having to watch.”

He scoffs immediately, mutters something you don’t catch but still doesn’t turn around to face you as he rummages through his fridge. “It definitely was not fun to sit there, no.” He replies.

“Is that why you didn’t come back last night? You were coping with the loss?” You’re hoping your strong reference to his late-night escapades will spark something in him, but alas you still seem to be wrong and all he does is cast you a furtive glance before going back to his business.

God, you were just going to have to wring this out of him, weren’t you?

“Andrei,” You start, taking a deep breath. He still doesn’t stir. “Andrei, I know.”

Finally, he stops. Pauses mid-motion of whatever he’s doing, and his shoulders seem to tense in preparation of your foreboding words.

“There’s other girls, right? It’s not just me?” Your voice is already wobbling, and you’re glad he’s still refusing to face you because your eyes are slowly filling with tears, the agony of these last few days catching up to you.

This is when Andrei finally turns around. He meets your eyes last after scanning up and down your body; the clothes you’re wearing that aren’t his, your nails digging into your hands, and finally the bright flush of your face as you struggle not to explode.

“What do you mean?” Is what he says, looking at you calculatingly.

“Don’t play dumb with me, ‘Drei,” You whisper, invisible wires constricting around your throat as you force yourself to continue speaking. “Maria told me. She saw you. And you lied to me.”

Andrei doesn’t speak. He just stares, fingers clenching and unclenching like he can’t decide if he should approach you or not. After what seems like hours of silent battle, he replies, starting out by saying your name like a warning. “She… Maria had no right to tell you that.”

“Because I’m not actually your girlfriend, right?” Your response is immediate, and it hurts him if the flinch on his face is anything to go by. “You don’t owe me anything. Not a title, responsibility. You never promised me any of that so sleeping with other girls is perfectly okay.”

Everything you’re saying is true but it’s all wrong the way you’re looking at each other. Tears are now openly streaming down your cheeks and Andrei hasn’t moved since the moment you opened your mouth.

“Nothing to say?” It’s defeated, your entire demeanor as your shoulders sag and you fight the urge to collapse. “Yeah. I—I wouldn’t know what to say either.”

“I’m sorry,” Andrei whispers, and he doesn’t fight you which makes it all the more devastating. Everything you’re saying is true and it’s still all so wrong but he isn’t fighting you and wow, you’re really about to lose him, aren’t you?

“I think the worst part of this for me is that I actually let myself fall in love with you.” It’s your last-ditch effort of getting something out of him, anything that proves this isn’t completely one-sided on your end.

Andrei looks gutted at that. But he steels his resolve, his eyes go cold and he clenches his jaw as you try, one last time, to reach him.

“Do you love me?”

He’s staring at the wall behind you. No words fall from the lips you’ve kissed a thousand times until they finally do, and this is when you come to the realization that you’re ruined. You won’t ever look at another man the same because Andrei will forever haunt you in everything that you are and what you do.

“No. I don’t.”

You don’t put up much of a fight after that. You wave your white flag and slip past him to grab the small bag you’d packed earlier in preparation.

Andrei doesn’t move from his spot in the kitchen once. His face is tight, eyes dark and anguished as you drop his spare key on the counter. You look at him one last time, will him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t.

He never does—so you leave and you don’t look back.

It hurts worse because there really wasn’t a fight. There was no screaming, breaking glass, hurling insults at each other; it was a quiet acceptance of the end of a relationship that had no chance of lasting.

That’s what gets you. Not just because it’s over, but because he doesn’t love you like you love him.

You can’t believe you let yourself fall for it.

When you finally make it back to your apartment it feels like walking into an alternate reality, especially after an agonizing drive back full of nothing but silence and your thoughts.

You’ve practically lived with Andrei the last few months so much that you’ve forgotten you had a life before him. Maria comes to your mind immediately at that thought, and you can’t think of anything else you need more right now than your best friend.

Her phone only rings twice before she picks up. She says your name warily, likely because she hasn’t heard a word from you in two days.

“Hey,” You whimper, and you hate that you can tell how broken you sound. “Um, you were right. About Andrei. I… Talked to him about it. We’re done.”

There’s silence on the other end for several moments. Then:

“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry. I’m coming over, and I’m bringing the fattest bottle of wine known to man, okay?”

You can’t help but laugh through your tears.

“Don’t respond, you can’t say no. I’ll see you in a few!”

And, well, you do nothing but let her hang up as you stare at your blank lock screen for a minute. Something possesses you to try and freshen up even though it’s just Maria, so you make your way to your bathroom.

Opening the door, your eyes land on your reflection in the mirror, your tear-stained eyes the same color red as the lipstick you wore the first time you met him. The same red of your heart, too, as you feel the shattering of it now more than ever.

It all goes back to him. Everything about you, your identity as ‘his girl’ reducing you to someone who doesn’t exist without him.

Fuck you, Andrei, you want to yell. Fuck you and fuck everything you put me through.

As you furiously rub your eyes, you realize you don’t know who you are anymore. You let yourself be molded into an unfamiliar version of yourself, into someone just for Andrei to want to keep around.

The tears start again, and you’re left sniffling in the suffocating silence of your bathroom. The only person who knew you, the you now, is gone.

And suddenly, you find yourself alone.

Well… Not totally alone. “Fuck him!” Maria shouts after she breaks into your apartment (she has your spare key) after you’d collapsed onto your couch and refused to open the door. “Seriously, fuck him. You’re way too good for him.”

“Weren’t you the one who convinced me to sleep with him in the first place?” Is your weak rebuttal, muffled and almost imperceptible as your head is burrowed in a pillow.

Your friend tsks, likely waving her arms around in that expressive way she does. “Yes, well. I never claimed to see the future. But now we know him for the piece of shit he is!”

Maria is your closest friend, yes, but you also know her to be someone who tells you what you want to hear. Right now, you’re feeling vengeful and angry, so she’s feeding into those emotions to make you feel better.

You know, in two months time or however long it takes you to process this, when you start missing him and tiptoe around the idea of calling him, she’ll support you then, too.

Which probably isn’t what you need, but, whatever. You’re just grateful you have someone on your side.

“I need…” You start, not quite sure how to phrase what you’re wanting. “I need to forget.”

“A one nightstand type of forget or get so drunk you pass out type of forget?”

You wrinkle your nose at the thought of sleeping with someone so soon. As much as you hate it, you don’t think you’ll ever stop craving Andrei’s body.

No man ever could make you feel that good…

“Get drunk,” You say, quirking a small smile at the whoop she lets out. “I can’t fuck someone right now. At least not yet.”

“Yeah,” The blonde agrees, sighing almost wistfully. “I’d feel the same if I knew what his dick felt like.”

“Maria!” You shriek, throwing a spare pillow as hard as you can her way. It misses, but does the job of lightening the mood and keeps you giggling the rest of the night.

She does her job in making you forget, though. Makes you put on one of your shortest dresses and gets you drink after drink until you’re hunched over a toilet in the back of some bar gagging your stomach out.

You wake up the next day with the worst hangover ever, but Maria is fairing the same and somehow you consider it worth it. Maybe you can live your life again without him.

You’ve done it before, right?

And really, it’s ridiculous when you let yourself think about how you’d only been seeing the man for five months and he completely managed to send your world careening in that timespan. So, you don’t let yourself think about it. Instead, you live.

For yourself, for your friends, for your heart that won’t ever be full but feels a little bit better every time you wake up each day without Andrei next to you.

You graduate university with your bachelor’s and get a job that’s even better than your last, and you make a really good group of friends at said-job without Maria’s help (though she’ll always be your best). The summer passes by with melancholy laughter and gentle healing, and while your first love always remains in the back of your mind, you think about him less.

So much less that you lose track of time, not even realizing that October of twenty twenty-three is here and the NHL season is starting back up. You haven’t spoken to any of the WAG’s since you broke it off with Andrei, assuming you would no longer be welcome in the ‘clique’ and preferring to separate yourself from a group associated with someone who brought you so much pain, so there haven’t been any reminders about the new season from them.

The memories of him are fleeting. They’ll come to you at random times, and now that you’ve lived in the past yet again, you can forget about the end where Andrei is a distant thought but every time his name is brought up it squeezes your heart so much you can’t breathe.

You’re doing better. Truly, you are. You’d stopped crying over him long ago, and you might have gone to class with swollen eyes and showed up to work despondent, but you’re working through it in your own way. Healing isn’t linear but you’re making progress slowly but surely.

One day, you wake up with a sudden determination to officially ‘get back out there’, per Maria’s words. There’s nothing spectacular about this day; it’s only mid-November, the weather in that awkward stage of autumn morphing into winter.

Maybe it’s because the night before you’d succumbed to the urge to search up the Hurricanes’ schedule, curious to when they’d be home and not.

It’s only a coincidence that they have a home game when you call your friends from work, asking if they’d like to go out after everyone gets off. It’s also a coincidence when you meet someone at said-bar you attend, and it’s absolutely insane how if you squint he kind of looks like Andrei.

Oh, but he’s so, so sweet… His name is Jack and he buys you and your friends drinks, keeps a respectful distance yet never strays far when you’re wrapped into another conversation. He asks for your number at the end of the night and you give it to him without hesitation, taking note of the way he creates your contact in his phone himself.

“You like cats?” He asks as he’s still typing away, and your breath catches in your throat because it’s a question that makes you think of the first night you met him. When you don’t respond, he gestures towards your keychain attached to the strap of your handbag.

“You have little kittens on your keychain. I think that’s what I’ll add to your name, yeah?” Jack laughs a little shyly, and it’s cute but you keep replaying kisa in your mind over and over in a Russian accent you never could quite imitate.

“Yeah, I do like cats,” You say, flushing at the sudden amusement in his eyes. “I like them a lot.”

Jack doesn’t waste any time texting you the next day, and the normalcy of it freaks you out a little. Where’s the anxiety? The stomach-dropping nerves that come with talking to someone new? The constant wondering if they like you or not?

It’s so safe and secure that it hurts, because it was never like that before.

Everyone in your life is so supportive, though, but that only makes it worse because they can see how good this man is for you, but why can’t you? You feel like pulling your hair out when he texts you good morning and goodnight and sick to your stomach when he shows up during your lunch break with flowers.

However, there’s no one is more enthusiastic about Jack's new presence in your life than Maria.

“He’s a dream guy, honestly,” She swoons, kicking her feet back on her ottoman. “You’re so lucky. I would kill for a guy I met at a bar to be so smitten with me he shows up to my job with flowers.”

You hum in agreement, unable to come up with something to say. “He… Yeah, it’s nice, I guess.”

The blonde eyes you from where you’re curled up on her couch, deliberately avoiding her stare as you mindlessly watch whatever is on the TV. “You guess? He’s perfect!”

“On paper,” You retort, huffing slightly in frustration at yourself because why can’t you see what everyone else sees? “I don’t really know him.”

“Yet. You don’t really know him yet.” She helpfully points out. “Why don’t you want to give him a chance?”

“I… I do. I am giving him a chance. Maybe I’m just not feeling it.”

“He’s not Andrei, babe.”

You fight the powerful urge to scoff. I know, you want to scream. I know. That’s the problem.

Jack is too perfect for you. You want the ups and downs, the electrifying chemistry, the undeniable connection you’ve felt with no one else before. You crave the feeling of those past five months, of being with someone who lit you up to your very core.

It’s been almost eight months and you still can’t get him out of your head.

You give Jack a rightful chance, though, like everyone in your life is begging you to. You can’t bring yourself to end it because there really is nothing wrong, it’s a perfect getting-to-know-you stage which checks off all the boxes. It’s just that you don’t want normal because normal is boring.

You want chaos. And Andrei is chaos personified.

Unbeknownst to you, Maria is still very good friends with a lot of the WAG’s and talks about you when they ask. They miss you, it turns out, but your friend never tells you this in fear of sending you into a depressive spiral that tends to happen when they’re brought up. They’re ecstatic to hear that your life seems to be going so well after the breakup, especially after seeing Andrei’s reaction to it all.

This is something Maria doesn’t tell you, either. She’s such a good friend, protecting your heart like that. Andrei did not come out of his house after you ended it the same person; he was a little darker, a little angrier, frustrated in a way that suggested nothing could be done to fix it.

It doesn’t help that he couldn’t take it out by playing hockey, because he wasn’t cleared to play until the end of October, a month into the regular season.

He never admits his sour mood is partly to blame you for. Not that it’s your fault—he’s the one who fucked up, not you.

Never you.

Maria knows all of this and still gives him the cold shoulder for his treatment of you. None of the girls were very happy after finding out while his teammates just gave him awkward pats on the back. It doesn’t stop him from finding out about you, though, and what you’re up to.

The WAG’s talk. They’re gossip machines, and while normally he hates them for it because he always has to watch what he says around them, this time he’s thankful because they tell their husbands and boyfriends everything.

He’s at Martin and his girlfriend, Nykki’s, apartment watching their cavapoo, Gigi, when he finds out you’re seeing someone new. They’re heatedly talking about something when they walk in and don’t see him on the floor cuddling Gigi, so he doesn’t interrupt.

“I mean, I’m not surprised, but wow. It certainly took her a while to move on, didn’t it?”

He hears a smack, assumes Nykki has hit him on the arm like she typically does when he pisses her off. “She loved him, of course it took time!”

“Ow!” He hisses, though it’s clearly in jest. “Well, yeah, but like… It’s been months. And it’s not like she’s in contact with any of us anymore to remind her of him.” Andrei notes the sourness in his teammate’s voice, feels his heart drop because he thinks he knows who they’re talking about, now.

“Still,” Nykki replies. “I was so sad after my first heartbreak. They take a while to heal from, especially when it’s not a clean ending. It’s no secret how Andrei treated her.” She’s frowning when she continues. “I wish I could give her a hug, but I get it. I wouldn’t want to see any of us, either.”

Martin sighs. “I get it, too. I sure do miss the wine she’d bring though. She had the best fucking taste, ever.”

“Of course you only miss her for her alcohol.”

Andrei decides to clear his throat at this moment. When he does so, Martin and Nykki whip their heads towards him on the floor, surprise and guilt decorating their faces when they see him holding Gigi rather dejectedly.

He starts by saying your name, even surprises himself when it comes out biting and, dare he say it… Jealous? “She’s seeing someone?”

Martin and Nykki share a glance. Gigi chooses this as the time to leap up from his lap and run towards her parents where Martin happily picks her up. “I’m going to go take her out. Thanks for watching, ‘Drei!” He quickly flees the apartment, and Nykki says something under her breath as she glares after him.

They both know Andrei isn’t letting this go.

“Do you remember Maria, her friend? Works in the Hurricanes’ marketing department?” She eventually says, joining him on the floor.

“The blonde one? Yes,” He replies, and even though there are many blondes working for the team he knows exactly who she’s talking about. She’s your best friend, after all, and he knows everything about you.

Like how he knows you will never get over him. Conceited? Yes, but he had (has) you wrapped around his finger.

“Well, she talks to a lot of us still, despite everything that happened. And she tells us things.” Nykki pauses, almost like she’s scared to go on.

“Things like?” Andrei inquires. “How she is doing? Who she is doing?”

She glares at him then, eyes narrowing into slits. “Not that you really have a right to know, but yes.”

His fingers dig into his palms and his jaw cramps with how much he’s trying to keep from exploding.

“So, she’s seeing some guy now?” He scoffs like the very idea is incredulous. As if whatever pathetic excuse of a man you’re talking to could ever compare to him.

“She has a right to move on, Andrei. You should too. You ruined her.”

That fact remains true, but he still has no desire to ever let you go as he deliberately ignores her advice, well-meaning as it is.

How ruined could you really be if you’re already with somebody else?

Unfortunately, it’s impossible to run into you because you avoid him like the plague. You know everywhere he and his teammates frequent so you stopped showing up long ago, and he’s pretty sure you keep a several hundred-foot radius between you and PNC Arena at all times. He doesn’t blame you, but it pisses him off to know he can’t easily find you.

Christmas passes, you spend it with Jack and Andrei spends it with his Russian teammates. The New Year arrives just as quickly, and as he locks lips with some random girl at the party he’s at he thinks of you. Wonders who you’re with, if you’re kissing that guy Nykki told him about.

You actually flew back home to spend it with your parents, giving Jack some weak excuse about how you weren’t able to see them over the holidays.

North Carolina winter is in full force as February of twenty twenty-four rolls around, and your life remains inexplicably boring while Andrei’s picks up. The Hurricanes are finally having a redemption arc after their awful first-half of the season, and thus are heading out to celebrate far more often than normal.

They’re more daring in where they choose to go, too, wanting to branch out of their norms, because why not?

This is really unfortunate for you. Horrifying, actually, because you’re out with your friends, Jack, and his friends too when the team comes strolling in. Eyes instantly shoot their way, aweing at the miniature celebrities in their own right for finally bringing a good professional sports team to NC.

The moment Andrei steps foot in the establishment you know. Your skin catches fire, your ears ring, and your heart thunders inside your chest because only man can set off your senses so powerfully.

You look away from Jack - who thankfully doesn’t notice, he’s sucked into a conversation with one of his friends - and find Andrei approaching the bar with Martin and Seth. He hasn’t noticed you yet and you try to keep that from happening as you sink down into your seat, flashing your friends an exaggerated smile when they eye you curiously.

You’re unable to hide for long, though, when a song bursts from the speakers and sends everyone into an excited frenzy, your group included as they crowd the dance.

Luckily you’re able to escape that particular rally and wave Jack off when he asks you if you’re okay. “I’m fine,” You shout over the bass rattling your eardrums. “Just letting my drink settle a bit.”

He doesn’t question you, merely nods and smiles before disappearing somewhere with his friends. Now, you’re alone, and you can’t decide if that’s a good or bad thing because now you have a perfect view of Andrei and his teammates leaning against the bar, looking far too good as they do so.

You can’t keep your eyes off him. You never could, especially can’t now as you soak up every little change your eyes can see. He has a scruff now, a sexy five o’clock shadow that you know firsthand how it feels between your thighs. His hair is a little longer, too—you wonder if it’s still as soft as you remember.

Jack suddenly appears from a break in the crowd and oh, yeah, fuck you can’t be thinking about your ex like this, can you? No, you aren’t officially with Jack, but it’s still wrong. He likes you so much, you know this, and you… Don’t hate him?

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you bemoan to yourself, torn between the angel on your left and the devil on your right that don’t give you the chance to decide because you feel eyes baring into your skull, begging you to notice them. Your entire being freezes, stuck in between some weird limbo as you lock eyes with Andrei for the first time in months.

There’s no one else but you and him as neither one of you refuses to break first, and you only lose eye contact when a group of people walks between you. When they’re gone and you’re able to freely look again, you realize he’s gone from his spot at the bar. All his teammates are still there, and they’ve now spotted you too.

Would it be wrong to call an uber and just tell Jack you felt sick?

Your name is suddenly being whispered into your ear, and you would have flinched if the sound of his voice didn’t have you relaxing back into your seat. You refuse to look up at first, because if you look at him so close to you again you’ll fold.

“Andrei,” You greet, quietly. “How are you?” You still aren’t looking at him, choosing to swirl around the drink in your hand instead.

“I’m good,” He replies, so close you can feel the heat of his body seeping into your skin. You lean into it almost subconsciously until he’s sliding into the booth next to you, pressing the two of you together. “How are you, my kisa?”

“You don’t get to call me that anymore.” You retort, finally meeting his eyes to cast him a withering glare.

“No?” Andrei reaches a hand up to brush some stray hairs from your face. So delicate his touch, he trails his hand down your cheek, your neck, and down your waist until landing on your thigh. You don’t stop him, either.

“That’s funny. I could have sworn that you’re mine.”

“I’m not,” You squirm under his touch, unable to push him away. “I haven’t been in months. Wasn’t ever ‘yours’ to begin with. You made sure of that.”

Andrei doesn’t appreciate the call out. The way his face twists is mean and you know whatever he’s going to say will hurt. “Right,” He scoffs, is snide with the way he tones it. “But you’re his?”

He gestures towards Jack, who thankfully is enraptured in a tense game of pool on the other side of the room. You don’t question how he already knows that’s who you’re with.

“I’m not anyone’s, Andrei.”

“Yes you are. You might have thought that because we haven’t seen each other we are just over?” He leans into you, doesn’t let you break eye contact as he gets so close your noses touch. “No. I bet me being so close to you right now has you soaked, and you want to know how I know that?”

Your throat is tight as you swallow. You can’t look away as you move to shake your head, but strange, because it comes out as a nod instead.

“You’re not ‘over me’, malyshka. You’ll never be over me. You love me.”

His grin is feral, his words biting as they cut through you at such a vulnerable level it has you flinching back from his touch immediately.

“Oh, fuck you, Andrei,” You hiss, an angry sheen of tears starting to gloss over your eyes. “Fuck you. I don’t love you anymore—especially not now.”

You move to slip around him but his arm shoots out and stops you in your tracks, leaving you frozen as he stands to tower over you.

“Careful,” He murmurs. “Your boy over there might think something’s wrong. Maybe I should introduce myself, make sure he knows I would never dare hurt you.”

“You don’t have to touch me to hurt me. You did that plenty without having to lift a finger.” You retort. “Now, get out of my way. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“But what if I want to talk to you?” You really hate the height difference between the two of you right now because it takes no effort at all for him to slide a muscular arm around your waist and keep you glued to his side. “Maybe I have missed you.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” You mutter, but he ignores you as he begins to lead you away from the booth you were in before. “My friends will wonder where I am if I’m not at the booth when they get back.”

“Not worried about your boy?” He mocks, noting the way you don’t mention Jack at all. “They won’t have enough time to notice.”

You narrow your eyes at his insinuating words as he stops at the bar, waving down the bartender who comes immediately. “His name is Jack.” You mutter, thinking he can’t hear you. He continues talking, ignoring you, and you’re unable to hear him over the noise so you don’t bother trying to understand what he’s asking for.

Soon enough there’s a drink sliding across the bar counter and Andrei pushes it in front of you. You eye the glass, making note of the fact that the liquid is red. “Vodka cranberry,” He confirms what you’re already thinking.

You flash back to the night you first met and suddenly you want nothing to do with the drink in front of you. “No thanks, I don’t want it.” You say, trying to step away.

You don’t get far, though, because he’s grabbing your wrist and tugging you rather harshly back to him. “Drink it,” He demands, watches your eyes and the way they dart from his face and back to the glass nervously. He sighs, then, like he’s realized something and lets go of your wrist only to land back on your hip. “It’s… Nothing is wrong with it. I didn’t touch it.”

He thinks you’re worried about being drugged? You almost laugh but manage to hold it back, because of course he doesn’t remember that this is the first drink he ever got you.

Your heart beats a little faster as you concede, finally picking up the drink and taking a tiny sip. He waits for your reaction like he’s the one who made it. “It’s good,” You finally say, licking the sweetness from your lips.

Andrei watches you, your eyes, your lips, everything about as time seems to stop and it’s just you and him, like it’s supposed to be.

You haven’t changed all that much, and you can tell he likes that. Your hair is a little shorter, you’re perhaps a little thinner now that you’re not on a college student diet, but you’re still you.

Andrei hasn’t changed either. You’re the same yet so different, and it’s incredibly difficult resisting the temptation to fall back into old habits.

“I’ve missed you,” He admits quietly, and you think it’s sincere this time. You wouldn’t have heard if you weren’t standing so close together.

Your heart thunders in your chest. You might be sweating out of nerves, or maybe it’s just the club. Your hands itch to touch him, and with more alcohol in you thanks to the cranberry you don’t stop Andrei as he succumbs to his urges first and uses one, large hand to cup your cheek.

You shudder as he caresses the skin, his thumb landing on your bottom lip and stroking it lightly. “Andrei,” You breathe, pupils blown wide. “You can’t—we can’t…”

He tilts his head, reminiscent of a dog. “Why not? You are not single?” He has you. He knows you know he does. You aren’t nearly as committed to Jack as much as you’d like yourself to be.

“I can’t do that to him,” You try weakly, already feeling your will bending to the persuasiveness of his touch.

His head lowers, hand remaining on your cheek as he brushes your lips together. You crave it, you realize, and move to fully push your mouths together but he’s pulling back before you get the chance.

“Go to the bathroom.” He says. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Will you?” You ask, the double-meaning clear as you stare at each other, neither willing to break.

Andrei’s face is unreadable. You can’t decide if that’s a good or bad thing as his hands land on your hips and he turns you around in the direction of the restrooms. “Go,” He taps your ass, nudging you forward. “I’ll be there.”

You give in this time. You’re aware of the astronomically bad decision you’re making as you cut the line, faking a sick stomach and whispering ‘sorry’ over and over again in your head as the nice ladies let you through.

When you close the door you immediately make your way to the mirror. Your reflection stares back at you, and with mussed hair and smudged lipstick you should be feeling ashamed.

All you feel is anticipation, though. For Andrei’s hands on your body, for his mouth to kiss all the spots he’s missed.

Several minutes go by and the knocks on the bathroom door become more frequent. You think he’s bailed on you - it certainly wouldn’t be the first time - but then you hear his voice outside.

“Da, yes, she’s in there,” A pause. “She’s my girlfriend, she needs me.”

Your breath catches in your throat, turning to face the door as he knocks and can hear his voice more clearly.

Yes, you do need him.

“Kisa,” He says, slightly muffled but you feel the effect he has on you is all the same. “I’m here. Let me in?” He’s almost begging, and you quickly unlock the door as he pushes through.

His smile is mischievous as he closes the door behind him. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” He purposefully raises his voice, shows faux concern and plays it up in case anyone is listening outside.

“You’re so dramatic,” You say, pulling him down to you by the collar of his shirt. Now that you’re alone you don’t bother pretending you don’t want him as much as you do. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

“Yes ma’am,” Andrei relents immediately, closing the distance between the two of you. Both his hands come up to the sides of your head to keep you in place, tilting you in whatever way he likes. His lips are just as soft as you remember, and your bodies move together like they were never apart.

He’s demanding as he begins pushing you back, crowding you against the tiny bathroom wall. His words from outside come back to you suddenly, and you break the kiss to catch a breath as his lips begin a trail across your cheeks. “Girlfriend?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “I had to get them to let me through somehow.” It’s not what you want to hear but you lose the urge to fight him on it as he reaches your neck and begins sucking little hickeys onto the sensitive skin. Your head falls back with a sigh, uncaring of your hair catching whatever germs might lie on the wall.

You let Andrei do what he wants to your neck for a few moments, then when the urge to taste his lips comes again you grab the back of his hair and pull him up to you. He goes willingly, and you moan into his mouth as he continues to push back against you so hard you can feel his dick through his jeans.

He pulls back much too soon for your taste, and you try to follow but suddenly one of the hands holding your head comes down to wrap around your throat, restricting your breath as he pushes you back. You go to speak, but his other hand is leaving your face to unbutton his jeans one-handed.

You watch, eyes heavy-lidded. “‘Drei?” The weight on your neck is comfortable, so you don’t bother moving as he shoves the rest of his jeans along with his boxers down his thick thighs.

“You want to talk to other guys?” He starts with a bite. “Then you can remember the taste of my cock in your mouth while you do it.”

Your blood pressure skyrockets as the hand on your throat leaves to pull your hair back out of your face, grasps it like a rope, and pushes you down to your knees.

You’re at eye-level with his cock as it bobs in front of you, angry and swollen with beads of pre-cum leaking from the tip. He stares down at you expectantly, has to hold back a groan at your wide-eyed gaze looking so innocent.

As your lips wrap around his tip he’s reminded of the fact that no, you are not innocent. He made you that way. Fucked you like no man ever could. Ruined you for everyone but him. His feelings for you are complicated, but he does understand one thing…

Andrei doesn’t want you, not really. But he hates to think about you with somebody else.

Your tongue is masterful in its work as it swirls around his head, and once you get comfortable you begin going down. His head falls back and this time he doesn’t hold back his noises as your warm, wet mouth envelopes him.

“Missed this mouth,” He grunts as you suck. “Like it much better when you can’t speak.”

It’s insulting and degrading, yet it doesn’t fail to turn you on as you squirm and rub your thighs together in hopes it’ll give you the friction you need.

His hand in your hair soon starts pulling, sliding your mouth forward and back in increasing motions as he gets closer. He’s unabashedly groaning now, and you can see his abs clench when you suck a certain way.

Suddenly, you have the urge to have him fall apart before you. Maybe it’s revenge, wanting to see him lose control for you like you’ve done for him so many times; you tilt your head, using your tongue to stroke the sensitive underside of his cock and that has him jerking into you.

“Fuck,” He hisses. “Good girl. Just like that.” The praise goes directly to your clit, and you whimper as it throbs with no relief.

Despite being apart for almost a year, you still know what every twitch of his body means. You know he’s close because the hand in your hair is gripping you tighter, you can feel the steadily increasing tempo of his heartbeat through his pulsing cock, and his thighs are ever so slightly trembling underneath your hands.

You want him to come in your mouth. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything more; your efforts increase and you dig your nails into his skin to hear him hiss and as his thrusts pick up he starts hitting the back of your throat.

Internally thanking your lacking gag reflex, you don’t flinch as he picks up speed, now blatantly using your mouth for his own pleasure with little regard for your comfort. “Shit, baby,” He blurts, desperate. “I’m gonna cum.” You hum in response, the vibrations of the sound finally throwing him over the edge.

Andrei throws his head back for a final time, one long groan emulating from his unfairly sculpted chest as his cum hits the back of your throat. You’ve always loved the taste of him and this time is no different as you suck him deeper, not wanting to waste a drop.

He takes a few moments to collect himself and in that timeframe your ears slowly stop ringing and you come back to reality, finding that your knees ache from being pressed into the floor and there are loud voices coming from outside the bathroom door.

As you move to stand, he too seems to remember where you’re at and uses both arms to pull you the rest of the way until you’re back to standing. You swipe your hair out of your face as his thumb comes to your lip, wiping away a stray drop of his release.

Despite the post-orgasmic clarity, he looks at you with softness and something else swimming in his dark eyes. “You’re still good at that,” He states. “Been sucking anyone else off?” His words are quiet but every bit threatening as you note the possessiveness in his tone.

“No,” You gasp as his thumb pushes its way into your mouth. “Just you. Only you,”

“That’s right,” He says. “Just me. Only me.” Then he’s spinning you around, fingers remaining pressed into your mouth while the other trails up your spine until he’s gripping the back of your neck. “Hear them outside?” He asks.

The ‘them’ he’s referring to, you realize, are the voices outside the bathroom. They’re much louder now, a few knocks mixed in, and you wonder with slight panic how a manager hasn’t come to unlock the door yet.

“They sound very angry, don’t they?” That same hand on the back of your neck strokes your skin, slowly working its way down to your waistband. “So we better make it quick. Hands on the wall, kisa,”

You know the moment he pulls down your pants he’ll find you to be unabashedly soaking. Despite claiming to be in a hurry, he takes his time working open the button of your jeans, grazing the skin above your panties before ever so slowly sliding them down your legs.

“Andrei,” You hiss, impatient. “Hurry up!” As the hand in your mouth retreats, you realize you’re both needy and nervous, an overwhelming combination.

He only laughs. “Someone is needy,” He mocks, holding your hips in place when you try wiggling against him. “Patience.” Leaning into your ear he murmurs this, staying this way as he fully slides your jeans past your knees.

Andrei sneaks his hand in between your thighs, something resembling a growl rumbling from his chest when his fingers find your dripping folds, feeling how you throb for him. “Missed this pussy even more,” He breathes, lubricating his fingers with your slick before slowly circling your clit. Your arms shake from where they hold you up and it’s a battle to keep yourself from collapsing.

“You are just made for me, aren’t you?”

You’re so wet you practically suck him in as he guides his dick to your entrance, and he wastes no preamble as he pushes in. If he thought your mouth was heaven after so much time apart, the feeling of your pussy squeezing him in so deep doesn’t even compare. His hands are digging into your hips as he ruts into you fully with one thrust, panting as your warmth contracts around him.

“Still so fucking tight,” He marvels like he can’t believe it, like it’s a dream you feel even better than when he replays the memories of you on repeat. “You been waiting for me?” He’s not expecting a response as his rhythm picks up, finding a familiar pace for the both of you that has him swearing under his breath and you struggling not to shout your pleasure to the rooftops.

“God,” You cry out when the head of his cock directly hits your g-spot, your hips jerking up so hard you would have fallen if it weren’t for Andrei holding you up. “Fuck, Andrei, fuck, I’m gonna—”

Andrei laughs, a sound that would have been more menacing if he also wasn’t gasping for air. “Already?” He mocks. “I barely touched you, baby,”

You don’t have to touch me, it’s on the tip of your tongue waiting to be blurted out. You don’t have to touch me for me to be on my knees for you. The words are ready, but instead all that comes out is a moan and maybe that’s for the best because he probably wouldn’t respond as well as he does in your dreams.

He’s unaware of your internal dilemma as he leans over you, pressing his clothed chest to your back. “Gotta be fast,” He reminds you, as if you’d forgotten. “You ready?”

“No, I—I can’t,” Because you don’t want this to be over. You don’t want to cum because he’ll follow you right after and then when clarity hits he’ll leave you again and you’ll be back to square one.

“Yes, you can” He croons. “I’ve got you. Not gonna let anything happen to you, I’m right here.” You want to sob as one of his hands leaves your hip and finds the junction of your bodies, gentle fingers prodding your pussy spread-wide around him until he finds your clit and rubs.

Your body is trembling and you can’t tell if you’re trying to move towards him or away, but it doesn’t matter anyways because he has you trapped between the wall and his body and the unrelenting pace of his hips slamming into you.

You have a sudden urge to look him in the eyes before you come undone by his cock and his fingers, so you crane your head to the side and watch him watch you. His hair is damp from sweat at the corners of his hairline, his lips slightly open as he pants and you think you spot him lick his lips when he catches you staring. You go to say something but he swoops down, catching your mouth with his own and promptly shuts you up.

Andrei doesn’t relent in his motions despite the uncomfortable position, not letting you break from his lips by removing his hand at your hip and gripping your face to keep you right here. He owns you, at this point, mind, body, and soul as your lungs beg for breath while your clit throbs beneath his fingers and oh, oh, there it is and you’re gone—

You feel the rough pads of his fingers bullying your clit but you don’t really focus on it until now, how the calloused ridges carelessly sweep over you with no semblance of relief and only when you body abruptly freezes does he part from you, but only slightly, leaving a hair’s width of space between your lips. “Beautiful,” He says, under his breath so quietly you don’t hear him as your bones catch fire and your brain short-circuits.

Heat sears you from the inside-out and you do nothing but endure as Andrei rocks you through it. There’s tears of ecstasy streaming down your face, you’re sure of it now, and you think he’s wiping them from your cheeks but you can’t open your eyes enough to check.

It takes a few minutes, but once your heart stops racing you can hear your favorite voice swearing behind you and only then do you comprehend him still moving inside you, but before you can whine at the sensitivity he’s stilling with a long, drawn-out groan.

You don’t dare speak first, nor are you the first to move. The air around you is stagnant with tension as you rest your head on your arms, breathing deeply to catch your breath. What does this mean? You’re spiraling already and it’s only been minutes since your desperate fuck in this bathroom.

Eventually, Andrei moves first. He slides his softened dick from you with a hiss and you feel his cum trickling out without him there to keep it plugged in. Wrinkling your nose at the feeling of having to walk around with wet inner thighs now, you slowly stand up as his hands fall from your body. You slide your panties and jeans back up the rest of your legs, ignoring the uncomfortable sensitivity of being covered once again.

Neither of you speaks a word. You want to cry suddenly, and this time not from pleasure. “What did we just do?” You manage to choke out, your voice so hoarse you have to clear it. He’s clearly planning on just leaving without a word but you’re not going to let him.

You stare at him expectantly. He’s turned around so all you have in your view is his slide profile, clearly struggling with what to say as his jaw clenches tightly.

“Nothing,” He finally says, and he might as well just fucking stab you in the back. “We did nothing. You’re going to go back out there and pretend nothing happened because it didn’t.”

Oh, he makes you so angry. You can’t believe you’d forgotten that. “You’re serious?” You know he is but you don’t want to believe it.

Andrei meets your glassy eyes and you wish you could read him like he so easily can read you. He looks as conflicted as the day you walked out of his house for the last time, like he has so many words to say but refuses to let them fall from his lips. Just like then, you know this rendezvous means more to him than just a meaningless hookup.

If only he’d admit it…

He exhales a shaky breath as another loud knock disturbs you. “We need to go.” He dodges your question just like he dodges every issue in his life, especially in regards to you. “Come on, kisa.”

“You can’t just call me that, after—after this,” You hiss as he grabs your arm and pulls you towards the door. You panic on the inside as he unlocks it because once you leave this dirty sanctuary you know your problems will only get worse.

Strange, how Andrei manages to make everything worse despite making you feel so good.

As if your emotions don’t matter to him (they really don’t), he flashes you a grin as he drags you behind him, past the angry horde of people who, now that you think about it, definitely know you were fucking. “I know you like it.” Spoken so simply, so plain, you hate that he’s right.

You’ll always like it. Always love him. For as long as you’re hung up over him it will always come back to bite you in the ass and he knows this too.

It’s why, without shame, his arm is curled possessively around your waist as he leads you through the crowd of people. Your friends, Jack, don’t even cross your mind as he does so.

“Go find your friends,” He soon leans down to whisper in your ear. “Then find Jack. Tell him you felt sick and had to use the bathroom.”

“What if I don’t want to?” You snap, purposefully antagonizing him.

Andrei merely raises a brow at you. “You can always stay with me, with my cum dripping down your legs, and explain to everyone how you missed me so much you couldn’t stay away.”

You want to hit him. You almost do, but he continues before you actually go through with it.

“I wonder what Jack would say?” Of course he was listening to you earlier. He ignored you then, of course, but he listened.

And yeah, okay, you get it. Not a good idea to let everyone you know see you with him. He doesn’t want his friends to see him with you, either.

“Trying to get rid of me?” You ask, intending to sound sarcastic but it comes off as more insecure than you wanted it to.

You know he is, but you can’t help but ask for confirmation. Maybe it would help you move on to hear how little he actually cares for you.

“I don’t think I could get rid of you if I tried,” He replies. You can’t tell if he’s serious or not. “You’ll never get rid of me though.”

He’s right, again. You hate so much that he is because you both know you’ll be crawling back the moment he calls.

You want to cry again as his arm leaves your waist, the absence of his heat leaving you shivering.

Andrei looks at you for a long time, just appraising. He tilts his head like he doesn’t know what to think, but then he spots something behind you and starts backing up.

“I will see you again someday, kisa.” He winks at you, and then he’s gone.

Someone behind you taps your shoulder while speaking into your ear, a voice you recognize as one of the girls you came with. You should probably focus, banish Andrei from your mind, but you don’t.

You strain your neck, watching for him through the crowd. He’s back at the bar with his friends, his teammates you once knew.

He’s laughing at something one of them said. Like he wasn’t just with you, fucking you against the bathroom walls.

“Are you okay?” Your friend behind you asks, the one thing from her you do catch.

“Yeah,” You say, swallowing despite the dryness in your throat. Andrei is talking to more people now, girls that have approached him, you notice. “I’m fine.”

He looks gorgeous under the lights. You catch his brilliant smile, the glimmer of his eyes, and those lips you can never get enough of. You soon lose sight of him amidst the throng of people, but his fleeting allure forever lingers...

Like a steadfast reminder, a haunting echo of what can never be.

A/N: Well, that was fun. I hurt my own feelings writing this but it was worth it. I hope you guys enjoyed! Please remember to reblog & comment!!

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[gutterfuuck]

feeding on violence (for lack of a better title)

sinister!mark x reader

cw: dark content! mdni !!, noncon oral/sex (f!receiving + giving), sadism, blood & knifeplay (if u squint) degradation, impact play, corruption, mark likes to hurt reader physically, pain kink (i think), choking, face slapping, hair pulling, etc etc, a little violent so tread carefully!

“don’t be so disrespectful.” he sneered, hand tightening around your throat as he pinned both of your arms down onto the wet grass with his knees. “h-hur..ts-“ you choked out, wiggling around underneath his strong body. mark stayed silent for a moment, pushing more and more of his weight onto your arms, bruises already forming on your skin before…

you gasped, body shooting up as he floated off of you, not sure whether to check your sore upper arms or rub at your neck, his fingerprints leaving dotted dark circles around your windpipe. you coughed, catching your breath as you tried to shuffle away from the ruthless viltrumite conqueror that hovered above you.

you kicked your legs at him as he approached you slowly, fake sympathy plastered onto his face. you stared up into the soulless black goggles that covered his probably soulless black eyes, twisting your face in rage and clenching your teeth, “c’mon, don’t look at me like that… what? tryin’ to hide from me again?” mark chuckled, appearing in front of your face within less than a second and placing his hands under your armpits, hiking you up onto his lap and flying you both up to the building that looked as if it could crumble; settling on the rooftop and throwing you onto the ground.

you let out a little yelp, the unexpected impact giving you no time to save yourself and resulting in grazes on your elbows, bluntly knocking your head on the solid floor. “i would.. i-“ you were cut off, mark’s hand covering your mouth and squeezing your cheeks, “i would i-” he mocked, staring into your orbs with empty goggles, “what’re you saying to me? hurry up.” he finished, loosening his grip on your face before moving to grip your chin in between his fingers.

“i would rather die than spend another second on this invaded earth. kill me you son of a bitch.” you spat at him, closing your eyes as you waited for him to tear you in half, crush your head, rip your heart from your chest… mark licked your spit from the corner of his mouth, smiling smugly to himself. “you die when i allow it.” he growled firmly, venom lacing his words. “you die when i get bored of breaking you, y/n. what’s so hard to understand?” he spoke as if it were a logical situation for anyone to be in.

mark grabbed onto your shirt, tearing it into a million pieces before your eyes, bloody scratches forming on your ribs from where his nails had cut your skin ‘accidentally’. he was always so calculated with his movements, you wouldn’t put it past him that he definitely meant to scratch you while he tore your clothes from your body. your tits bounced free, hands automatically covering your bare chest, eyebrows furrowed together angrily as you looked up at him.

“if only looks could kill, right y/n?” he laughed, fingers hooking around the waistband of your pants and yanking them down along with your underwear, slapping your thigh sharply when you tried to back away from him again, earning a pained gasp from you.

that only made mark harder.

he grabbed your legs, pulling them apart and pushing them almost up to your head, your hands pulling at his hair and small pleas for him to stop going totally unnoticed by mark. he used his thumbs to spread your folds, examining your cunt and dipping his head down to attach his lips to your clit,

“h-hey-! no! st-stop..!” you whined, legs struggling against his vice like grip, pulling at his scalp and slapping him as hard as you could. mark only continued, flicking his hot tongue back and forth against your little sensitive bud while he kept his lips sealed to your clit; relishing in your desperate pleas for him to just get off of you and leave you be, to remove his skilled mouth from your betraying cunt that leaked sweet slick onto his chin.

mark’s tongue pressed flat against your hole, the tip threatening to slip into your- “nh-!” you moaned as he licked a fat, wet stripe all the way up your pussy, spitting on your clit while he panted, “coming off like you don’t want it but you’re making such cute little noises, wife.” you cringed at his little name for you, he knew you hated it. he taunted you with it, you were his wife: the pet.

“m’wife just needed her lil’ pussy eaten to behave right? bet you don’t wanna run away from me now…” mark noted that you had almost stopped struggling against him, any attempt would’ve been futile anyway. “we aren’t married you creep!” you yelled, mustering up all of your confidence, all of your strength, pulling back your thigh so you could connect the sole of your shoe with his face and finally—!

his hand wrapped around your ankle, shaking his head as you cowered, eyes darting to your side to avoid his eyes until- SMACK!

your right ear rang, your hand shooting up to soothe your cheek on instinct with tears brimming in the corner of your eyes. you turned to face the perpetrator who gripped your cheeks together with his hand, forcing you to face him. “can’t believe you just tried to fuckin kick me away like that, you stupid slut.” he was pissed. “think you could take me the fuck down anyway? i’m gettin’ real tired of this bitchy running away act, getting caught, i eventually find you and breaking you in, again and again and again.” mark pointed his index finger and middle finger to your forehead, almost as if he was imitating a gun; “you stupid. dumb. wet. little. fuck-box.” he punctuated each word by poking his fingers into your temple harshly, surely leaving bruises there. you didn’t dare move out of fear of being slapped again, already feeling the swelling of the side of your face.

you sniffled once, twice, before tears trickled down your cheeks. mark only shushed you, drinking in the way you looked when you sobbed at him, an action that told him that you gave up. he wiped your eyes, a smile still lingering on his smug face.

“shh, oh- baby no, please don’t cry…” he spoke softly, pretending to care, “cuz if you keep crying like that y’know i’m just gonna have to give you something to cry about, right?” he finished coldly and it made you shiver. “pl-please m’sorry-“ you cried, still as a statue. a chuckle. “oh, my sweet little wife..” he pulled you into an embrace, kissing where he had hurt you, “you will be.”

*

your knees were surely grazed and bleeding, nails digging into mark’s thighs as he fucked his dick in and out of your throat, being sure to hold you down occasionally to watch you struggle for air, gag around the girth, your jaw aching and your eyes wet with tears. you wondered if this was all a trap; if he had flown you up to the fragile building so he could expose of you here. even if you were to die, at least you still held on to your dignity. or whatever strip of it you would have left after mark was done with you.

“now that’s a good wife, if you even think about touching it with your teeth i’m gonna show you how mad i can get,” the way he spoke was almost becoming hypnotising. he was so soft, so careful with his words; his horrible, degrading words. how could one make a warning sound like a love letter? “i don’t give a fuckkk…” mark hissed as your tongue lolled against one of his thick veins, rolling his hips into your mouth while his hand remained glued to the back of your head, “..i’ll keep you here all day if i have to, break your jaw in. what’re you gonna do when it’s all dislocated n busted cuz you didn’t do a good enough job slobbering on your god, huh?”

more fake sympathy. more tears. mark licked his lips, the fear in your eyes making his head tilt back, mouth open with a groan. you looked so pretty when you cried, so harmless.

mark pulled his cock out of your mouth with a pop! sound, a string of spit linking your lips to his heavy cockhead. “did i fuck your attitude away? you gonna behave f’me now?” you knew that tone. he wasn’t playing with you. you nodded slowly, catching your breath and coughing quietly; you didnt want to tick him off. you leaned into him only to have him push your head away, “we’re not done.”

“can’t believe i fucked that smart little mouth of yours dumb.” mark shook his head, moving your body over to lay flat on the concrete, “shut you up for good.” your mind was hazy, vision blurry with tears. there really was no point in running anymore; no point in hiding away from him. he’d always find you, always.

mark positioned his hips in between yours, angry tip threatening to bully itself into your trembling cunt, trying to wiggle your hips away to try and save yourself just a little more time- “keep fucking doing that. you see what happens.” he threatened, voice sharp like razors. you would rather not find out what he would do to you, so you relaxed as much as you could, hands trying to conceal your pain-y, unsure little noises.

“that’s right— yeah, don’t run from it.. shiiit..-“ he groaned, his cock pushing past your tight little entrance. you felt full and it was only barely just the head. he was going to tear you in half, you just knew it. “don’t ever fuckin’ try to run from it ever again..” he finished, pushing himself further and further into your tight walls. you gasped, your pussy clenching around him involuntarily, clit swollen and begging to be touched.

you felt a cold presence on your chest, eyes flickering down to stare at a little scalpel you were sure he had zipped off to get so fast, it must’ve been just this second because there was not one in sight. “should carve m’name into you, wife.” he grunted as he felt your cunt swallow up his shaft, “make you bleed my name… maybe then you’ll understand.”

a strangled scream left your throat as mark slammed his whole length into you, giving your insides no time to adjust to his spitting size. “theeere we go. nice n snug… this pussy’s made for breeding, ain’t it princess?” you didn’t respond, too fucked out already to even register what he had said to you. oh well. mark pulled his hips back, observing the creamy ring that coated his dick with a triumphant sense of victory, picking up speed within seconds.

call you crazy, maybe you liked it. maybe you were starting to like it. that was all you could think of to reason with your thoughts, your thoughts telling you to sink deeper into depravity, let him leave your insides all cummy and destroyed and filled until he wanted to play with you again… you were just as fucked up.

just as fucked up, if not, worse.

[anantaru]

cw. [ex]plicit, fem! reader, alcohol mentions, toxic lol, modern au & college au, frat boy xiao

a/n. this came to me in a dream lmao

frat boy xiao, and no one else, he was the one who made your legs almost give up on you the moment his hypnotic eyes meet yours while when he averts himself from your direction again, there was a terrible, existential emptiness riveting in your soul, a ceaseless and unending openness.

until now you felt that way, but you are living in reality and this wasn't your conventional, exaggerated rom con experience from an atrocious netflix movie, still, for all that wishful fantasizing inside of you, the desire of meeting your pristine soulmate at a random, huge college frat party fenced by loud, ear-splitting music, the hustle and bustle of binge drinking and beer pong, strangers escaping to the bathroom to hook up with each other, was still somewhat comforting.

frat boy xiao who only calls you when he's bored, only fucks you when he feels like it, it's not like he was a soulless person, in his own ways he was caring about you but he also made it clear that he wasn't searching for anything more serious, he wanted to stay within the lane of occasionally hooking up with you— but when he does, when you let him touch you, it's the best feeling in the world, resembling a moment when you stand ankle-deep on the beach at night, you hear it, that is, you hear the world breathing or how the sound carries across the water.

frat boy xiao who keeps you a secret in front of his friends, he fears that they might make a move on you if he doesn't. you're his to play with— although he wouldn't say it with his chest, he rather shows you instead. you sigh and swallow when he first sinks into you, eyes darkened with lust when he pushes into your body. xiao grunts appreciatively, lazily draping your shirt up so it'll rest above your now exposed breasts, revealing your full, soft chest and his face smooths under the shadow of a single light flickering up the room.

you take a quick breath when he begins to move and pump his leaking cock in a leisure manner, not fastening any steps, xiao would always start slowly, making you accustomed to his large girth as if it was your first time to have sex with him. you stammer loudly, lacing your arms around his neck tight, "you're so good at this, xiao.." and purposefully make him flustered, cheeks glistening red, the slight embarrassment emerging was pinking his neck— the sort of pink that brings champagne roses to the imagination.

frat boy xiao who gazes at you bemusedly, seizing himself off you before swiftly flipping you on your stomach, not letting you take a breather, his hands sinking into the plush of your behind as he lines himself against your hole again. there was something so alluring to seeing your face pressed against his pillow, while knowing it will remember your scent and even when you leave afterwards, it'll still feel like you're next to him.

you cry out, rocking your hips back, your hands webbing into the bed sheets as xiao slopes his entire body against your figure— one hand placed on the bed frame so he wouldn't crush you with his weight while the other twisted and turned on your skin, fuck how much he loved fondling your body, and the grab on your hips was perfect to easily lurch you into his cock.

you can clearly witness his impatience growing by now, sensing how your hole splits and it burns a little, but it's tasteful enough and you try your unconditional best to keep your burning thighs apart for him, gasping with your head in the clouds, eyes fluttering shut as you bury your face back into the tear soaked pillow, your pulse soaring within his pounding beat on your slippy cunt.

frat boy xiao cannot get enough of you, but he also cannot commit to you, for a reason rather unknown— while you also refrain from asking him as to why, fearing that he might feel like being pushed into a corner, cowering of losing those certain moments that do bring you joy, it's the flustering perception he made you experience too, the hallmark of one who is true of heart, a genuine sweetness you were forever craving.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[kunipuppy]

Ais x gn!reader.

im horny for ais so horny please ais let me hit oh my god.

warnings: making out, drunk mc, cursing.

Ais never had the absolute pleasure of seeing you like this, he just sat down beside you but you were already slurring your words and ranting about how if soulless cats existed? The poor bartender of the Wet Wick had to put up with it because Leander had some business to take care of. Well, probably, or taking it up his ass from whoever. It didn’t matter, though Ais knows full well how much money that bastard would cough up just to see you in this state.

Too bad. He might have actually gotten rich…maybe.

He looked at you once more, and ordered himself a drink. When you still didn’t notice him, he sighed. 

‘’Hey sparrow, didn’t peg you as the type to get drunk so carelessly.’’

You turned to him and blinked once. Then again. Then you finally recognized the demon. 

‘’Heyyy, your boytoy isn’t with you?’’

He cocked an eyebrow…Then it hit him. Did you think Vere and him were actually an item or were you way too drunk?

‘’My boytoy?’’

You nodded, giggling a bit. That was cute.

‘’Yeah you know… Vere. You guys are like attached to the hip in Wet Wick, no?’’

He’s guessing you probably jıust wanna tease him for the hell of it, plus you’re drunk and he’s bored so, he’ll entertain you.

‘’Why you asking? Jealous?’’

He snorted at the way you put your hand on your heart and gasped so dramatically. He never saw you this animated, this was cute. His drink came and he took a sip, blinking once he saw you so focused on something on his face.

‘’What? Something on my face, sparrow?’’

You looked at him and then pointed at his horns.

‘’Your horns, I wanna touch them.’’ 

He almost choked on his drink… almost. Those words coming from you made him…hot. Maybe it's the alcohol. 

‘’Sparrow, do you even know what you’re asking?’’

You jumped a little, sliding from your seat. Closer to him. Why the hell is he getting worked up like a virgin, what the fuck.

‘’I want to touch your horns. Just a few strokes, pleaaseeee Ais. If I beg will you let me?’’

 Dammit.

Fucking- dammit.

He scoffed, took you by your wrist and pulled you to the alley after dropping coins on the table. He didn’t miss the twitch of your arm when he did so. You blinked as the cold night air hit your face and you sobered up a little, just a little. 

‘’Hey Ais– ah!’’

He pulled you between the two buildings, and suddenly this scenario was way too familiar. When you turn your eyes to the side you half expect to see an almost dead body, though Ais already blocked that from happening with his… muscular… arm. Dammit.

‘’You wanna touch me, sparrow?’’

You blinked, registering his words. Looking down at your arms, the bandages on your left arm were fine but your right hand bandages were a little loose. Ais, without breaking eye contact, tightened the bandage with his teeth. 

Oh.

Oh.

Ais smirked, way too cocky. You wanna wipe that off his fucking face, add a bruise or two… You rethink and decide against it, the bastard would probably be even more attractive…

You stop that train of thought as Ais’ hands sneaked up under your cloak, not being able to hold yourself back, a whimper escaped from your lips. You held onto his shoulders, shaking ever so slightly.

‘’Hey… no fair, I wanted to touch you first.’’

‘’Be patient, sparrow.’’

You hated how fast you shut yourself up and obeyed, he was so obviously proud of himself for that. That damn nickname makes you feel way too good than it should, you decide to blame it on the alcohol.

He places his hand on your tummy, getting close to where you want him to touch but never quite there. If you didn’t have an ounce of pride and common sense left you would have shoved his hands inside your pants. Then he snakes his arm around your waist, as if you had enough distance between you, he pulls you in.

You notice, even in your half drunken haze that his breathing got a little heavier… or maybe thats your fantasy?

‘’Go on, sparrow. Touch ‘em, be careful though. They sting.’’

He has the audacity to whisper that to your ear.

Oh you are so worked up now.

You huff, not being able to muster up any coherent sentences out of shame. How did he make you so needy with just… that?

You hesitate but seize your chance and shakily caress his horns, the one atop his head, and then stroke it gently.

The noise he let out was so quiet, you almost didn’t hear it. Did he… fucking moan?

Holy shit.

You wanted more. Feeling emboldened by his hands on your waist, the look hes giving you and your fucking hands on his damn horns, you pull him into a kiss by his horns. He chuckles into it before going in.

Ais is an intense but also an amazing kisser. You don’t notice your tight grip on his horns until he moans into your mouth and you almost…

You feel like you’re going crazy. 

Only parting for air and diving right back in, letting his hands explore you. Then you bite his lips so hard that you draw blood.

He pulls away and licks his lips.

‘’You have a thing for blood, sparrow?’’

You want to break his horns apart.

[y2ksnowglobe]

Dndads Dad characters and what I consider to be their most notable parenting crime

The amount of seriousness for any of these is highly variable

Barry: Using a giant hamster water bottle type thing to hydrate the soulless bodies of your grandkids. Bill: Not letting his son murder him. Cern: Getting your kids involved in the doomsday cult you're a member of. Darryl: Honestly? Being a slightly more boring version of my own dad. Frank: Not super canon, but like...he'd give the "Eat some peanut butter to stop being depressed" advice. Gartok: Enslaved his kids. Glenn: Pretended to not like minions with an intensity that it made him look really bad in court. Grant: Probably should have taken Lincoln to a therapist right after the cat incident. Henry: Seems to have forgotten he has a daughter. Jodie: Gave his child a flashbang. Lark(?): Didn't tell Normal about the bulletproofing in the mascot outfit. Poor kid was probably wondering why all the cheerleading moves were harder now. Marco: So unsure of himself that he's able to be convinced he signed a permission slip for his son to go to Seattle. Nicky: Suggests friend murder way too easily as a problem solving method. Ron: "Who's your daddy now?" Scam: Hermie is a teenager because that's the funniest age for him to be. Sparrow: Did not stop Normal from being Vinny the Vulture during a heatwave. Terry Jr.: Offered Scary some kale chips that one time. Willy: Honestly? It's the I have two fish and two plates...lemme just stack these plates together and eat both of the fish moment. That's just such an inexplicable, what the fuck? moment for me.

[hyeinism]

✿﹕FOR THE . . 𝒑𝒍𝒐𝒕 ୨ৎ ACT I 𓂃⠀ヾ a girl is TIRED. (+0.6k)

sorry for like edging u guys n not posting this....... but it is here now so yay! i hope u enjoy >,<

THE ENDLESS WORDS streaming out of your algebra teacher’s mouth bored you to death. you groaned internally as your heavy eyelids slowly closed, making it impossible to grasp any of the information that entered your ears.

just as the last bits of your consciousness were about to disintegrate, the door cracked open, piquing your curiosity and causing you to look up.

in stepped a tall male, visibly varnished with confidence and a certain tartness that glinted within his irises; his hair was partially bleached and he wore a black hoodie that swallowed the upper half of his body.

“you’re a bit late.” the teacher turned to him, and you couldn’t help but scoff at that understatement, he wasn’t a ‘bit late,’ since class had started 29 minutes ago (of course, you kept count).

“sorry, i got lost.” the boy stated blankly with unmissable boredom dripping off his tone; the rudeness he held almost made you gasp aloud, was the teacher really just okay with this?

“well, it’s okay for now, since you’re new, please introduce yourself to the class quickly.” he motioned towards the new boy, prompting everyone to turn their heads toward him.

he obliges. “hi, i’m nishimura riki, and i’m a transfer student from japan.” you watched riki shove his hands into his jeans pockets and then glimpse down to the floor, seemingly unsure of what to do next.

“thank you, riki. take a seat now.” and with that, the classroom went soulless again. you were about to return to your untouched notes, which was when you caught a glimpse of riki walking dangerously close to the empty seat right next to you.

his pale fingers reached for the chair, pulling it out and then settling down without even paying note of you. he messily threw his bag on the floor, then rested his head on the desk.

the lesson continued like this for a while: barely any students paying attention, riki possibly asleep next to you, truly oblivious to whoever stared at him.

a few minutes later, the teacher passed out an exit ticket, sitting leisurely in his chair while his students racked their minds to complete the paper. you sighed, massaging the top of your temples in attempts to keep yourself as sane as possible for another 8 minutes until the bell rang.

you turned to your left, checking the clock for the nth time today.

an annoyed ‘tsk’ met your ears and you furrowed your brows, frowning. “what?” you mumbled, quiet enough so that only riki heard.

“stop looking at my paper, you’re copying me.”

you blinked, then again. did you hear that right? you, copying someone? it was like your ears were playing tricks on you. why would you, of all people, need to cheat? “i’m not trying to copying you!”

“hm, really? your empty paper says otherwise.” riki pointed to your exit ticket, and he was right, there wasn’t a single pencil mark on it.

your cheeks heated up at the realization, and you huffed. “so? that doesn’t mean i need your stupid answers, be realistic, riki.”

he laughed as you shunned him away, turning back to your own paper and away from the conversation. “whatever you say, i guess.”

you tried to work on the assignment, but your mind was too frustrated to focus on anything other than what had just happened. who did he think he was?

you couldn’t be upset for much longer, however, because the bell rang, disrupting your thought process. as soon as the ringing sound graced your ears, you were the first one to turn in your (empty) paper and run out of the room, garnering weird stares from your classmates, but you didn’t pay attention to them.

all you knew right now was that you wanted absolutely nothing to do with that horrendous boy ever again, and you were going to do everything in your ability to avoid him.

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[dreaming-of-lu]

...Buckle your seatbelts and ready yourself.

There were questions.

Silent ones that were never voiced out loud. Quiet whispers amongst themselves as they wondered about the newest addition to the group. If one offered to ask, they were quickly shot down by the eldest before shooing them all off to leave the new member alone. They were nothing like them; they knew how to wield a sword, but they're not a Link like them. They bore no triforce, no heroic spirit that they all shared, and the same name was not theirs.

They looked tired, thrown out of the loop, emotionally and mentally. Their eyes never looked into either the eldest or the youngest eyes, almost as if they were afraid of something. Afraid of...them. They clung tightly to a long red scarf as if they were hoping it would ground them, but the group was no fools to the cries, whimpers, and sobs that escaped the member's lips, no matter how hard they tried to hide it. The silent wails were made into the scarf, riddled with tears, snot, and drool. Their face contorted in anguish pain, white-knuckling the red fabric, even biting it as they tried to conceal the sounds.

The muffled cries of their name made their heart clench as they all lay awake, the harsh wails willing tears into their own eyes, now knowing the newest member had lost someone. 

‘They've lost their own Link,’ Legend silently wept at the thought, knowing how deep the pain is of losing someone you love deeply, and that they’re gone in a blink of an eye.

'How long has it been since they last saw him?' Time wondered quietly.

'Please,' Warriors sniffles, 'please don't tell me they saw him dead.'

'I'm so sorry,' Sky covered his mouth to hide the sobs.

Their fists pound the earth underneath them, slumping on their side then curling into a ball.

“Please,” they keen, voice cracking, “please let this be a nightmare. Link, come back, I can’t do this without you.”

Empty.

Empty without the love of another. Weak without him. They felt soulless.

[thequeenofneverland1]

Edward Cullen///Jealousy is everywhere

Request by @misskitty1912-blog: Hi can I request Edward Cullen x Plus size female reader is sam and dean Winchester sister and is best friends with Castiel and Gabriel x Stefan Salvatore featuring jealous elane and bella but elane is with Damon and bella is with Jacob

Warnings: Bella Swan and Elena Gilbert bashing, mentioned of tying to shoot, death but reborn, mentioned of Dean being a demon and your other brother Sam being a soulless, parents death and more probably

A/N: Stefan and Caroline are going to be a couple in here if you guys don't like it then don't read, but rather than that I hope you love it if you don’t let me know and I’ll unwrite but if you do enjoy and thank you for requesting love!!

You looked at your family picture frame as tears were falling down your cheeks as you kissed the frame and you felt Edward wrapped his arms around you and he kissed your forehead “oh sweetheart don’t cry.”

You wipe off your tears and you lay the frame down on your shared bed. "It's hard not to."

He grabbed your hands with a sad smile, "I know sweetie but seeing you cry breaks me."

You leaned against his chest as he comforted you. “It's been years that I haven’t seen my best friends and my brothers.”

He pressed a kiss on your shoulder as he played with your hair. “We can go see them whenever you want, sweetheart.”

you smiled as you looked at him with love, "I don't know if Dean is still a demon or if Sam is still soulless if so it’s dangerous for us to be near.”

“What about your friends? They haven’t contacted you with updates of your brothers?” He asked

You shook your head. “no they’re probably l still mad or too busy trying to find a way to bring my brothers back.”

Edward was about to say something else when he heard your phone get a message from Stefan Salvatore, and saw you read the message

“Honey what did he say?” He asked trying to hide his jealousy since you told him that you were Stefan first crush

You rolled your eyes playful since you know that Edward is being jealous. “My love you know that I only love you and that I only have eyes for you whatever Stefan or I felt it’s in the past.”

He crossed his arms as he rolled his eyes, not trying to smile "so what does he want?"

“He’s inviting us to his wedding with Caroline Forbes.” You showed him the invitation that you got from Stefan on your phone

He looked over your shoulder then he looked at you. “isn’t she friends with that girl who's jealous of your friendship with Stefan?”

Before putting your phone down you saved the invitation and texted Stefan that you were going. “not anymore she stopped being friends with Elena when she made Caroline choose between me and her.”

He laughed as he shook his head. “That's Karma, that's what happens when you make someone choose she deserves that and even more.”

“Why are you letting Stefan and Caroline invite Y/n to their wedding?” Elena asked angrily after finding out that they send you the wedding invitation

Damon crossed his arms. “It's not my wedding Elena, they have the right to invite whoever they want, it’s their wedding, not mine, I don’t know why you don’t like her, she’s a great woman.”

She fumed as she rolled her eyes, “what’s so great about her? She’s nothing but a boring and stupid woman.”

“Listen here Y/n’s is Stefan's best friend and Caroline sees her as a sister, so if you don’t want to be uninvited to the wedding I suggest you to be quiet and to show her respect when she comes. ” He warns being done with Elena bullshit and jealousy

“Then I am not going.” She sat down on the couch, crossing her arms

“Then don’t come, that's fine with me I would rather not have you come if you’re going to be complaining the whole time.” He stormed off ignoring Elena calls out

Your family and you are at Isle Esme For a couple of days to get some fresh air and to get away from people and everything

“Finally a nice family vacation for the first time ever since that accident.” Emmett said as he looked around.

“I know right two weeks far from stupid people and it’s stupid problems:” Rosalie said agreeing with her husband Emmett

“Y/n?” Alice asked, pulling you aside from them “I need to tell you something that I saw.”

“What’s up?” You asked sounding confused on what she’s going to tell you since that look on her it looks like it’s something serious

She looks over at the family who was laughing and talking then at you, “I saw that your blood family is trying to find a way to get in contact with you.”

“What?” You asked as tears started to fall down from your cheeks “how if dean is a demon and Sam is soulless? And my best friends are probably still mad at me. You saw how they reacted when I told them that I married Edward and that he turned me into a vampire.”

She grabbed your shoulders before pulling you into a hug as she rubbed your back “not anymore honey I saw that your brothers and best friends are going to make a trip to Forks anytime soon.”

You wiped off your tears and pulled away from Alice gently. “I’m really happy to hear that, but I’m scared of my brothers reaction when I tell them that I married a vampire and that he turned me.”

“I know, but they'll understand why Edward had it to do it, you were basically dying but he saved you and you were reborn as a vampire.” She tried to reassure you

“I honestly don't know me and my brothers grew up as hunters and they'll be asking what I was doing that almost caused me to lose my life and why I married Edward.” You told her

“I was planning if you're not ready to tell them that you're a vampire we can get you contact lenses that match your human color eyes.” She smiles

“That’s a good idea and I love it but wearing them will make my eyes really irritated like the other time that I tried to use them and also they will find out the truth one way or the other and I really do want them to find out from me rather than for them to find out from someone else.”

“Yeah, that would suck if they were to be told by someone else rather than you. Maybe if they heard it from you they’ll understand and hopefully be happy for you guys” she said with hope

You laughed “Probably but in my mind I’m not trying to picture them not trying to shoot him because after all they’re hunters and really overprotective of me and dating someone mostly if he’s a vampire they will get really crazy.”

She laughs too "Do you think your brothers would do that? even if Edward's is their brother in law.”

You nodded your head "Yeah even if Edward is their brother in law they would still go crazy when it comes to vampires and me you don't know how overprotected they would get when I would go hunting with them and when I would bring the men over just don't tell Edward.”

Bella and Jacob arrived in Mystic falls days earlier before the wedding since Elena told her to since she made a plan to ruin your happiness and she wants her to be included in the plan

“So What’s the Plan?” Bella asked

Elena hands Bella a glass of water "Oh you're going to love it!!”

Bella takes a sip as she smiles “ tell me I want to know!!”

"So her brothers are not aware of her being married and her being a vampire.” Elena smirks

Bella raised an eyebrow, "Not following."

“Okay, so Y/n and her family are hunters, I mean just her friends and her brothers so think how would they react to know that their sister is dating a supernatural? Mostly if she's one as well.” Elena explains with a smirk on her face

"Say what? A hunter turned into a vampire? it seems like she betrayed her kind. Man we could tell her brothers that she is dating one of the supernatural and that she's one.” Bella smirks as well

“There you go, so I sent them an anonymous email to come to Mystic falls and They responded with an ok and that they will be here.”

“I can’t wait to see that look on Y/N’s face covered with sadness and tears. ”Bella laughs“ having no one but the Cullens comforting her since her brothers will hate her.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think about that and what is going to make me more angry that not only will she be comforted by Cullens but by my boyfriend and friends as well.” Elena fumed

Bella crossed her arms "tell me about it, Jacob will also be comforting her too, what's so special about her?”

"I agree but anyways, let's plan what we're going to wear for the wedding."

“Are you sure it’s safe for us to go to Mystic falls? What if it’s a trap?” Sam asked concerned for the safety of his brother and me

“I doubt it, and yeah I know that the Person that sent us that gmail was anonymous. I believe there’s no harm in going.” Dean said trying to erase his brother worries

“I hope you're right brother.”

“I'll go with you guys.” Castiel volunteers

“Count me in.” Gabriel smiles hoping that Dean and Sam would let him go with them

Dean and Sam looked at each other to see if one another were okay with Gabriel coming, and he smiled when both Dean and Sam gave him a approval nod

you smiled when you saw your friends waiting for you and your family with happy smiles on their faces except for Elena and Bella who were crossing their arms

you thanked your husband for opening the door for you as Caroline run up to you, hugging you really fast, almost making you fall down

"I'm so happy that you're here you don't know how much I have missed you.” Caroline smiles as she lets out tears “I Feel like it’s been forever since I saw you.”

"Since my wedding where I got told that my parents were dead, and that my brothers were out there.” You smiled sadly “but today is not the time to be sad, tomorrow is your wedding.”

“The wedding is today, but I can't wait any longer.” Elena tells Bella

"Then what are we waiting for? let's go tell them.” Bella smiles as she and Elena went outside to talk to the four men that got here

You smiled as you were doing Caroline's hair "I'm so happy for you, you deserve this and more.”

she smiles back at you through the mirror "thank you!! and I want to thank you again for everything that you have done for Stefan and me.”

“So wait not only are you telling us that Y/n our sister is married to a vampire but she's one of them too.” Dean was hurt not because you're married and didn’t tell Him and Sam because he felt that he didn’t protect you enough

"Please tell us that this is a joke.” Sam sniffed “that she’s not a vampire.”

"I wish I was joking But it's true.” Elena fakes to be sad as Bella does too

"Where is she? We have to talk to her." Castiel asked upset both Gabriel and he knew about your wedding but he didn’t know that you are a vampire

"Follow us and I'll take you guys to go see her."

“Thank you.” Gabriel said walking with them as your brothers and Castiel follow behind

[bluekittyyoyo]

ALTERNIAN CULTURE ANALYSIS: APATHY AS ANTITHESIS. AN ESSAY ON TROLL SOCIETY'S UNDERSTANDING OF EMOTIONS

listen to me. it only makes logical sense that trolls would have a strong understanding of the idea that the opposite of "love" is actually antipathy; having no strong feelings whatsoever. I know what you're saying, "but the quadrants have love and hate as a dichotomy, they clearly think of hate as love's antithesis-" no. wrong. the quadrants are obviously not representative of every emotion a troll can have, the quadrants are a concept of ROMANCE. see there's the keyword here. love and hate are both integral parts of this romance, they do not exist in opposition to each other as in one cancels out the other, they are two sides of the same coin. having quadrant feelings for someone regardless of alignment is indicative of caring about them, of being passionate about them. I know those words typically have purely positive connotations when used about human romantic understandings but disconnect that for a second. basically it comes down to a slightly warped version of "horseshoe theory" (where supposed opposites, in this case love and hate, are actually closer together than the middleground). I think this concept is firmly supported by canon, examples off the top of my head:

from the quadrants explanation;

"The relationships each quadrant describes tend to be malleable, if not volatile,"

as stated with the pitched/flushed vacillation and the canon examples of pale/flushed, but also I think it is implied (though less so) that it applies to every quadrant and there are many ways unexplored in canon that every quadrant can bleed into another.

this famous line:

"It should be noted that in troll language, the word for friend is exactly the same as the word for enemy."

this quote being on the page where equius pesters gamzee, citing that he does so with regularity and thus considers him a "friend" (but that's not the whole picture). this adds to the notion of these relationships not being considered opposite but stemming from the same root idea of investment in a person.

I think it's very interesting because I believe the authorial intentions of incorporating hate as an integral part of troll society and culture is meant to contribute to the idea of them as a cruel and violent society, and while that may have some truth for the ways in which individuals treat each other peer-to-peer in average situations I actually think the real overarching effect it has is trolls coming off as a more emotionally honest society at the cost of simplicity and peace.

the implications of hate being considered on equal terms with love to me paint an image of a society that encourages embracing all emotions to the fullest extent, a society that might even consider the worst thing you can be not as someone who is filled with hate but in fact someone who does not care at all. I'm reminded of the conversation between vriska and aradia in hivebent:

vriska calling her a "miserable soulless witch" followed by repeating she hates her and "only regrets killing her cause it made her so BORING!!!!!!!!"

of course we also see plenty of times that "not giving a shit" is a thing that trolls are naturally inclined to do because you only have so much emotional resource to devote to a finite amount of things. moreover that alternia is a society that encourages emotional "balance", to embrace the love and the hate both with the same passion.

again as karkat rants to vriska also in hivebent:

"A WELL BALANCED PERSON IS GOING TO HAVE A GOOD DISTRIBUTION BETWEEN HATE AND THE VARIOUS PITY HUMORS."

you may also recognize this conversation as the same one where karkat claims this (rather infamously imo):

"PITY IS OF COURSE JUST THE TONED DOWN VERSION OF THE CENTRAL EMOTION, HATE."

(adding more to the "trolls believe hate and love come from the same emotional source" pile even if the manner of it is slightly off-center here)

and vriska's response to karkat's ranting:

"Did you learn this crap from your awful romance movies?" "THEY'RE REALLY INTRIGUING SOCIOLOGICALLY."

I hope this presentation makes it clear but for the audience in the back: karkat's interpretation of emotional composition of trolls is most likely complete bullshit and not at all factual nor, in my opinion, should be taken as biological information about trolls. for that reason I believe the reference to humoral medicine is completely intentional, invoking the imagerey of bullshit pseudoscience. just in the same way as I don't think it would be reasonable to make any similar claim about the nature of human emotions (and anyone who does is trying to sell you something). in A6A615 dave even states that "both humans and trolls are emotionally versatile sentient beings that can feel many hells of different things".

what I'm mainly getting at here using these quotes is that there is a cultural precedent for the claims he is making. karkat did not spawn these ideas about emotions out of thin air or scientific research, he got them from watching romance films. which particularly, as presumably low-culture media in much the same fashion as our own, would in fact make them excellent case studies on the general cultural attitudes of the society that consumes them. and that society, as karkat observes, makes indications that a) emotions of hate and love stem from the same source and b) trolls ought to have a balance of negative and positive emotions, where apathy is considered more undesirable.

so what I mean to say from all these observations, my formal opinion: to trolls there can exist this nebulous feeling of being emotionally attachment to someone, to desire any kind of relationship with them. and with that the average troll has a far better understanding that the most devastating response possible is actually none at all; to be completely unaffected by them.

so what am I saying with all this? it is my idea that in troll culture, trolls have a concept of relationships and emotions that can exist as a nebulous idea of just being *passionate*, of caring about something or someone and the distinction between negative or positive is merely a nuance rather than an opposition, and the actual socially reviled opposition to this feeling is being apathetic.

for example a troll rejecting another for a particular desired quadrant is heartbreaking (or diamondbreaking, spadesbreaking etc), but as there exists a desire for connection generally by virtue of the desire at all, it would be less devastating and possibly could become just as fulfilling for the connection to exist as a different quadrant, even on the other side of red/black. the most devastating possible outcome of a rejection would be that of total apathy, of the idea that one inspires no passions, no emotions of any kind in a person.

and with that established now we can get into my ideas about how alternian media rating systems work, such as a troll equivalent to rotten tomatoes where movies/books/films etc are rated on 5 different scales (also possibly two different modified 3 scale versions) in addition to a simplified two-scale version where the measure of "good" is based on "how much did this work inspire emotional reactions in you vs how much did you not give any shit at all"- the cane hooks me by the neck and pulls me off stage

[gingersnapwolves]

the following update is brought you by the letters LMAO and WTF

so as discussed in my previous posts, the house my parents share with my brother's family is LARGE. like deadass this place has three living rooms. and one of them has a fireplace. upon this fireplace were displayed my dad's butterfly boxes. sadly, I don't have a picture but they are very pretty, and they were really the only color in the room, which is mostly white with dark blue sofas.

for those unfamiliar with butterfly boxes, they look something like this:

(source)

they tend to be somewhat expensive because they are made with butterflies that have already died a natural death (no butterflies are harmed in the making of these boxes) but obviously the butterflies in question have to be in perfect condition

my dad's looked a lot like these but they were clear glass all the way through, and the butterflies were a lot more colorful. he's had these literally as long as I can remember, so at least 35-40 years. and he had them up on the fireplace mantle.

today he emails me all in a tizzy because SIL took them down and replaced them with this:

now we all have our own tastes and opinions but wtf in the hgtv is that shit??? that is the most boring, random collection of items - that is staging by a realtor, not decoration by a real person! it looks so completely soulless. and she did this without asking him or even mentioning it to him and he doesn't even know where his butterfly boxes even ARE currently because he's been so mad that he hasn't trusted himself enough to ask lmao. I told him I'll ask if he wants, I'm ready to fight, I'm pissed. you can't just move someone's shit without asking them and replace it with stuff that you personally think looks better!!!!!! okay I'm okay I'm gonna go breathe into a paper bag until the urge to drive forty-five minutes and punch my SIL in the nose subsides

[bunniekittiee]

time of dying - johnny slaughter x reader

I tried to keep Johnny in character as much as I could but I feel like he got a bit ooc.

Warning: loss of virginity, non-con, Stockholm syndrome kinda?, Johnny is a POS pt.3, finally gets his karma, but oh reader is just too sweet, angsty as hell, kinda of a good ending?

The Devil loved to corrupt God’s angels, it was a war between who could save those same angels from the fate of the Devil’s wrath. He loved the way her virgin blood trickled down her thighs and pooled at the bottom, staining his own thighs in the process. The blood smeared across their groins, connecting them to a much more deeper level than before. God should have never let his most beloved creations wander far, for the Devil was known to sink his jowls into their flesh and drink their essence.

“Ya’ didn’t tell me ya’ were a virgin.” he purred in her ear with his eyes glistening with lust and bliss.

She whimpered as her tears stained her rosy cheeks, and her eyes bore into the soulless creature that thrusted his hips into hers. It was hard to make out the rest of his features, almost as if the dark wanted to obscure any signs of humanity. He was a mere man. Yet it felt as if she was staring into the pits of Hell itself.

That familiar vile, humiliating feeling crept inside of her lower stomach and made its presence known immediately after he was finished. Her virgin blood and his semen mixed together, creating a toxic substance that stung her torn hymen. She ached in every crevice of her body. He consumed her entirely and she belonged to him now. There was no point of return, this was where she had to be.

The pain was all too familiar when he forcefully entered her. He had already broken her hymen, but her body repeated the phantom pain of its breakage. It was supposed to be for a special person one day, a man who loved her and cared for her. A man who gave her what she wanted as she did the same for him.

But oh, how unfair life is for the creator’s angels whom he placed upon his Earth. She had what was hers unrightfully stolen, no, desecrated. He ripped it from her grasp to take it for his own self-serving purposes. She could not retrieve it back as much as she wished she could. It was lost for all of time.

Chaining her extremities, he loved to torture his little angel. Despite violating every part of her, she still grasped onto some sort of innocence that drove him wild. Her doe eyes gazing into his sharp ones, silently pleading for mercy. He did not grant her this, but he had almost considered it a few times with the way she looked at him. It penetrated him with such intensity that he felt out of control. As much as he did not like that she had this effect on him, he was in wonderment how she could do that to him.

He enjoyed testing her when he could. To see if given any opportunity, would she run? Would she be so ignorant and attempt to leave this sanctuary? But each time he tested her, she did not make an effort to escape. In fact, she seemed to ignore his tests. As if the mere thoughts of escaping would result in a punishment from him.

Today was another day of work, but this time she accompanied him. He was busy doing repairs and wanted his angel close by. Sometimes he missed her presence, so he let her have a break from her prison. She seemed to have taken pleasure in spending time with him. At least she was coming around, that was a win in Johnny’s book.

“Give me the allen wrench.” he said while holding his hand out. She obliged, grabbing the correct tool. She learned over time which one was which, as well as previous knowledge from helping her own father with car repairs.

“Good girl.” he smirked as he took the tool from her. Blushing slightly, she glanced down at the dirt pathway underneath her shoes. Some days when he was “nice”, it made her forget all the horrific pain he inflicted on her. Maybe he could change, maybe this could be their normal. But she was reminded of how naive she was when he devoured her again. It was a cycle she could not break for the life of her.

“Flat head.” He intercepted her thoughts and caught her off guard for a moment, but she handed him another tool once again. “What’s on ya’ mind, sweet pea?”

“Nothing.” she replied as she dug her toe into the ground.

“Ya’ sure?” he asked as he took a small look at her. She nodded her head, and he resumed his work again. No sense in asking a thousand times if she did not feel like talking about it. But he was curious to know, he wanted to know what went on inside of that noggin of hers. What she thought about him. He wanted to crack her head open and examine her brain. The inner workings of her organ. But Johnny was no scientist, and he knew that once he got it open, there would be no way to close it.

Footsteps approached them. Looking up, Johnny sighed. “What is it, Sissy?”

Sissy smiled at the girl as she stood in front of the couple. “Cook called, said he’s got some meat that’s comin’ down over here. He said ta’ get ready.”

“Yeah!” Johnny exclaimed with a smirk. “Been wantin’ to kill lately, just haven’t been able to do it.”

“Well now ya’ can, get ready.” Sissy said as she walked back to the house.

She felt cold chills infiltrate her body. Something seemed… off. There was something that was bugging her about this hunt, and she had never felt this way before about one.

“Darlin’, ya’ really gonna’ annoy me if ya’ keep ignorin’ me.” Johnny stated as he grabbed her face between his scarred gloveless hand. “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours, hmm?”

Chewing on her lower lip, she sighed quietly. “Something seems weird. I don’t know, I don’t have a good feeling.”

He tilted his head at her. “Whatcha’ thinkin’?”

“I just feel like.. this next group is going to be bad. I don’t know why or how, but I just have a bad feeling about them.” she frowned.

Johnny nodded his head and gently grabbed her face. “Might just be paranoid darlin’. Nothin’ will happen, ya’ got that?” She looked at him with worried eyes, and he sighed. “Listen, ya’ have me here to protect ya’-”

“No Johnny,” she interrupted, catching the young man off guard. “It’s not me I’m worried about, it’s you.”

He scoffed. “I can handle myself darlin’. Besides, I’ve never had any slip ups, so don’t ya’ worry about it now. It ain’t a big deal.”

It was not enough to calm her nerves. Her anxiety ate away at her stomach, and she felt like this was a warning. Something bad was going to happen, she was very sure of it. But Johnny did not believe her. He was too cocky, too arrogant to believe that anything could happen to him. For all he could knew, he could not get hurt and he was practically untouchable. He didn’t need to take extra precautions, he was lethal as is.

To keep his angel safe from the prying eyes of mankind, he led her back to his shack at the Slaughter’s house. It was there that she was safest. He did not have to worry about her escaping or interacting with “guests”.

“Now just stay in here until I get back, alright?” he said as he stood in the doorway. “I’ll be back in one piece, I promise ya’.”

She nodded, frowning slightly as she did. She was still stressed. She had never had this feeling before when it was time for a hunt, so this was all brand new.

“When I make promises, I keep ‘em. Don’t worry now sunshine. Get some rest.” And he waved goodbye, slamming the door shut and locking it with his key.

There was not much to do when Johnny Slaughter was preparing and involved in a hunt. Sometimes he would be gone the whole night, sometimes he would be back rather quickly, it depended on a lot of factors. She hoped that it would be a quick hunt to prove her anxieties wrong, but it did not seem like one of those quick hunts. She just hoped for the best, that Johnny came back to her with very little wounds and a big, evil grin on his face. A happy yet murderous Johnny was much better than a pissed off, murderous Johnny.

The sun began to dip down into the horizon line, the light turning orange as it shone inside the wood board cracks of the shack. Johnny’s little angel began to drift off to sleep, laying on the dirty mattress with a blanket wrapped around her frame. She curled into a small ball and tried to fight her sleepiness off, but sleep seemed to have won the fight. She was never a good fighter of many things.

A reverberating howl echoed around her, waking her from her dreamless state. She shot up from her previous position, eyes wide and darting around the small shack. The sun had settled and the moon rose high above the Sawyers. With labored breathing, she risen from the mattress carefully to move towards the door. She knew it was locked, but it was best to check. Sometimes you never knew what fate would throw at you.

Jiggling the handle, she was surprised to see it popped open. Her blood ran cold, it meant that whoever awoke her from her slumber was the one who unlocked the shack. And no one else made an effort to lock it back up. There was a very heated debate inside of her head. Was it best to leave the shack? Was it best to find Johnny? What if she stayed put and put herself in more danger by almost being found? Was she better off laying in the bushes and dirt away from the bloodshed? So many questions, so many possibilities, so many pathways she could take, but she did not know which one to pick. She hadn’t have any decision left up to her for a very long time. Not since Johnny came into her life.

She pushed the door open quietly and peeked her head out to see if there was anyone nearby. It was very dark outside and she could barely make out the Slaughters’ trees and sheds. The only thing that gave light was the moon. Using this to the best of her abilities, she crept forward towards the edge of the forest. She was not sure if it was a good idea to find Johnny or any other family member in case they mistook her for a victim, and she did not exactly want to be slaughtered now. It was best to lie low and hope for the best.

Every sound unsettled her as she reached the forest brush. She swiveled her head around to make sure no one else saw her, but her paranoia was not eased. As she settled into the dirt, she saw Johnny racing across the yard chasing a victim. The girl cringed as she was reminded of her time with Johnny. How he chased her down, laughing and spitting insults at her. How he was going to slaughter her like a lamb. Yet here she was, still alive. Guess he never kept up his side.

She watched as Johnny laughed at the victim, a young woman, and remarked how she thought she escaped so easily. He threw himself onto her, glaring down with a sinister grin on his face as the hunting knife in his right hand settled into her intestines. The woman screamed, echoing back to Johnny’s angel in the bushes who covered her ears. She could hardly take her eyes off of them, it was a deplorable yet beautiful sight to see Johnny in his element. His biceps glistened with sweat and his slicked hair was a little messy from running. He stabbed into the woman’s body again while holding her by the throat. It felt forbidden to watch this unfold, like a horrible car accident, yet there was no way to take your eyes off of it. Johnny’s body was slathered in crimson from the woman who had gone limp. Lifeless.

The eyes of his angel watered but her sight did not waver as Johnny got to his feet and began to look around once more for another. She heard Bubba’s chainsaw from the house, but there were no shouts of pain. Must be trying to scare them out.

She remembered when Bubba tried this tactic on her before and indeed did it scare her. She practically peed herself when she heard the revving of the chainsaw a few feet away from her hiding spot. She hoped and prayed that he did not find her, and God must have answered her prayers because Bubba did not. Instead, Johnny found her. If that was any better. At least Bubba would have ended her suffering.

Her hair stood on end as another person came into her view. It was a man, not one she had seen before, sitting over the sight of the young woman and weeping. His panicked cries stabbed into her heart. She must have been his girlfriend. And now she was going to end up as a Slaughter meal. It was quite sad how everyone who crossed paths with the Slaughters lost their lives with the only exception of her. She wondered why too. There was never a straightforward answer to that question, but it guilted her.

Johnny made his rounds back as he spotted the man kneeling over the woman he murdered. He grinned, approaching him which his hunting knife ready to sink into the man’s body. But Johnny must have been blinded by his blood lust, the man turned around rather quickly and tackled Johnny’s legs, shoving the young man to the ground. It was a tussle between them. Johnny’s knife was thrown to the side when he fell down which meant all he had was his fists. His angel covered her mouth in fear, trying to quiet her whimpers as she watched the victim beat down Johnny. They were evenly matched. She heard their grunts from where she was laying at and her heart sank when she heard Johnny’s painful grunts. Her baby…

She knew she stood no chance against a man, and she also knew Johnny would tell her to stay out of it. It was between men, something she should keep her nose out of. But she could not sit and watch as Johnny got hurt. It hurt her to see this. But she continued to watch, until her heart plunged further.

“Leland! I got the gun!” said another woman as she sprinted towards the man beating Johnny into the ground.

“These fuckin’ freaks are done for.” he panted as he wrestled with Johnny more. The Slaughter boy was not going down so easily.

“I’d like to see ya’ try an’ use that, ya’ idiots!” Johnny said as he reached for his fallen knife and swung it at Leland. Blood trickled down his arm as Leland grabbed Johnny’s arm, trying to pry the knife out of his gloved hand. Johnny gritted his teeth as Leland elbowed him in the face, smearing more of his blood across his face as his nose trickled like a water spout. It was damned to hurt.

The woman fumbled with the shotgun. Almost as if she was possessed, Y/N rose from her spot. She sneakily maneuvered her way towards them as they were in their own worlds. They did not notice her, and neither did the woman when she attacked her. They both went down together, tussling like the boys were still in the middle of.

“What the fuck?” the girl stuttered out.

The gun had landed somewhere next to them, but it was only a matter of who could get there first. Y/N punched the other woman in the face while the other girl tugged at her hair. Sinking her teeth into the unknown woman’s arm, she let go of her hair for a second which gave her an opportunity to lunge for the gun. Grabbing it, she held out the end of the shotgun out far as she whipped her body around, ramming it into the woman’s face. There was a loud crunch that signified a broken nose and maybe even a few other bones as the girl fell to the ground. Out like a light.

Johnny was on top of Leland still attempting to put him down. But Johnny was overpowered, something that had never happened before in the years of Johnny’s hunting. Leland held his hunting knife, his own weapon, and drove it into Johnny’s gut. Johnny wheezed as Leland jammed it hard, jaw clenched and his eyes burning with anger.

“This is for Ana!” Leland screamed as he slid the knife back inside Johnny’s stomach again. Johnny tasted the iron in his mouth, trying to bite it back as he stared at Leland.

“This is for Connie!” Another one. Johnny felt his vision blacken more.

“Hey motherfucker,” Heaven’s angel answered his call. “Only I get to decide when he dies.”

The trigger was pulled and it was in a sudden second where brain matter scattered across the Sawyer’s yard. His head caved in, squirting blood feverously as his body stuttered to plop onto the ground. Ears ringing, Johnny glanced at his savior and let out a small breath.

“Sweet pea.” he groaned out as he slightly smiled. Blood pooled from his wounds. “Am I glad to see ya’.”

Quickly, she kneeled down next to him and gently took his head between her hands. “Oh Johnny!”

“I’ll be okay.” he said as he blinked slowly.

His hearing was dipping out as he could barely hear her call for his family. These victims really did some damage to him. Now, he was not so sure if he could make it or not.

“Johnny, Johnny stay with me.” His sweet angel tried to keep him busy. “Come on, it’ll be okay.”

He chuckled, wincing from his wounds. “Maybe so, huh?” Soft hazel eyes studied her face. “Ya’ are my favorite, ya’ know that?”

She smiled, tears forming along those pretty eyes he loved to look into. “I’m happy to hear that. It will be okay.” She took his hand into hers.

He smiled back. “I missed ya’.”

“I missed ya’ more.” She said as her tear drops rained upon his face. Shakily, his hand wiped at her tear-stained cheeks. She hunched over him and gently kissed him, tasting blood as she did so.

But just as fast as her life turned upside down, they were interrupted when the gun hooked around her neck. Being forced back, she choked as Julie laughed. “Sorry to interrupt your little reunion. This is for killing all of my damn friends. Now you’ll know how it is to lose someone you love.”

Johnny eyed her maliciously as he cursed his condition. “Don’t ya’ fuckin’ dare.”

“I’ll blow her brains out like she did Leland’s.” she replied, digging the gun more into the girl’s trachea. She gasped, her lungs squeezing as they searched for the air it could not reach.

But the pressure was suddenly taken off as blood coated her. The woman’s throat was slit hastily and Sissy threw her to the ground. “That ain’t happenin’.”

She looked at Johnny and her eyes widened. “Bubba! Johnny’s hurt real bad!”

All of the Sawyer family appeared as Bubba tossed his chainsaw to the side and moved towards Johnny. Johnny’s angel coughed as she rubbed her throat, looking at her captor as he paled more and more by the minutes passing. Bubba picked him up which caused Johnny to grunt in pain. His eyes were barely open.

Everything was quite hazy. Drayton cleared the table off completely as they settled Johnny onto it, getting to work straight away. The Slaughter boy slipped in and out of consciousness, hardly feeling the needles stab into his skin as Nubbins, Sissy, and Bubba stitched his cuts and gaping knife wounds closed. They worked diligently and quietly, only talking when asking for things such as more thread, washcloths, or alcohol to clean. Drayton, Chop Top, and Johnny’s lover gave them what they needed. His angel sniffled, watching as more blood seeped onto the table.

“H-he just won’t stop bleedin’!” Nubbins whined.

“Just keep applyin’ pressure and stitchin’.” Sissy replied. “We can’t let him…” she choked back on her words as she looked back down.

“Damn kids!” Drayton complained as he rubbed his temples. “I swear to God if anythin’ happens to that kid, I don’t even know what I’m goin’ to do.”

“L-lets just h-hope for the best.” Chop Top said while he handed Bubba more thread. “He’s a strong kid, b-built like an o-ox. I’m sure he w-will g-get through it.”

Y/N chewed on her lip. She hoped Johnny prevailed. She did when he hurt her, whether it was mutilating her, taking advantage of her, or even abusing her. She still stuck around despite the emotional trauma and abuse he caused her. Yet here he was, lying on the table as he slowly lost his life.

She wondered if it would have been different had she pulled the gun on Johnny. She could have escaped with those victims had she shot him. Shot him just like she did Leland. Right in the skull with his brain exposed for all of the angels above to witness. Yet, she did not. She turned the gun around on the innocent who were only fighting for their own lives.

Was she just as bad as the Sawyers? Murdering another to save someone who raped and inflicted pain whenever he felt like it. Did she even deserve a place in Heaven for all that she had committed tonight? She knew she did not. She was corrupted. No angels had a place in Heaven after they soaked the ground with an innocent’s blood.

As she pondered on her thoughts, the Sawyers completed their art. Johnny was a bloody, morbidly beautiful sight. His body barely moved as he breathed.

“Alright Bubba,” Sissy said quietly. “Go and take ’im to the spare bedroom.” She looked at Johnny’s lover. “Ya’ go with too. He’s goin’ to need company when he wakes up.”

She nodded, trailing behind Bubba as he carried her sweet captor up the creaky stairs and into the spare bedroom that rarely anyone touched. It was a bit dusty, but more comfortable than the shack she had been staying in. Bubba gently placed Johnny on the bed and motioned for you to come over to the bed. Plopping down softly, Bubba hugged her tightly. Almost to comfort her and himself. And she hugged him back. She felt all of the pain from tonight hit her all at once.

Bubba shuffled out of the room after their bonding experience, closing the door on the way out. She caught another glimpse of Johnny’s pallid skin. She wondered why she felt so strongly towards her captor. He killed many, including her own friends, yet here she was lying in bed with him while he made small noises of agony. Why did she feel so distressed about his current state? This was what he deserved for all of those women and men he butchered. There was no doubt about it. But she felt sympathy for her Devil.

“Ya’ like my true angel.” he mustered out as his eyes slightly opened. “Watchin’ me like an angel watches over people.”

A small, sad smile tugged at her lips as she held his scarred hand between her own. “Anything for you, Johnny.”

He smiled, a lighthearted yet weak smile. “I don’t know what I would do without my angel.”

Squeezing her hand, he fluttered his eyes shut again. Moments like these reeled her back into his grasp. She hated him, yet she could not help but love him. Love him despite all he had done to her. Love him despite robbing her of her innocence. He consumed it like ichor. She could not bring herself to kill him, it would only cause misery for her heart. She loved Johnny, whether it was out of fear or true love, she did not know, but it did not change the fact she loved the killer who inflicted torment on those who stumbled across the Sawyer’s home.

Johnny was the ‘sorry’ soul who received what he had coming to him. He slipped up, made a mistake, and it costed him a lot. The traumatic stab wounds to his gut left deep, pink silvery scars on his skin. It took months to heal, and sometimes he feels the pains of his victim stabbing into him. He was not paranoid of getting hurt again, but he knew if he made the same mistake again, it would cost him his life. His nose was bent at a slight awkward shape from the fist fight.

He realized something important, and although he hated to admit it, his little angel was right. She was right all along, somehow she knew. Maybe she was Johnny’s guardian angel sent from Heaven. Yet, he still infected her being with his repulsive sinful actions. Sinking his teeth into her flesh. Never letting go. He was thankful for his life being saved by her, but he did not want her to think she could leave him.

It was a sunny Texas day with a small gentle breeze that slowly lapped at her sundress as her and Johnny lingered over a quilt.

“I forgot to ask ya’ this.” Johnny said after a long while of silence. She hummed in response. “Where did ya’ learn how to use a gun?”

Her heart squeezed at the thought of those events that night. “My Daddy taught me how. Sometimes he took me hunting, or he would let me shoot some rounds at bottles. Just for practice.”

Johnny chuckled. “Never saw ya’ as a hunting kind of gal.”

She shrugged. “It’s never often that I really do it.”

Silence again. It was a comfortable silence that was cherished between the two of them. Johnny sighed quietly as he turned his head to look at the girl nestled between his arms. “Don’t know what I would do without ya’.”

“Probably would be lying in a grave somewhere.” she joked. Johnny giggled and pinched her. Her words were true, he did not want to admit that though.

“Like I said, yer’ my little angel.”

[leanderfields]

SYNOPSIS: No song lasts forever. Not even a sparrow’s.

C/W: Ais x gn!reader, reader is MC with the curse and all, angst/tragedy- it’s fluffy until it’s not, a few innuendos if you squint, Leander makes an appearance, so does Princess and Vere, spoilers for the red choice in Ais’s demo route, mentions of blood, mild depictions of violence (more like the aftermath; I personally think it’s minor but just in case), written before the full game has been released so some creative liberties were taken when writing about Hightown and the Amaryllis District, more or less my rendition of an early bad ending for Ais, largely inspired by Enna Alouette's Wish of this Songbird

A/N: When you blog is Leander themed, but your first official post is about Ais and it's angst... haha whoops ─=≡Σᕕ(σ‿‿σ)ᕗ

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drip. 

Ais took yet another drag on his cigarette, exhaling with an indolent puff of smoke. This one looks like Princess, he thought. The Soulless let out a reverberating purr on his lap.  

“You think so too, huh?” he grinned, scratching the top of her head. The other hand crushed the butt of the cigarette beneath his heel. That was enough of playing with smoke for now. Any more then he would have to make a trip to Lowtown before the sun sets. Bars weren’t fun during the day, but the streets were livelier according to a certain mage. The idea of running into familiar faces while taking a leisurely stroll didn’t seem that bad either. 

Ais drove the cigarette butt deeper into his heel. Well, it’s not like he could leave right now. 

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Pant. Pant.

Princess sprung off his lap, wooden panels creaking as she bounced towards the Seaspring’s entrance. Her tail swayed back and forth and her tendrils followed in suit. Ais reached for an extra floor pillow. Must be someone she liked. 

“Ais! Are you home?” a cheery voice chirped between Princess’s purrs. 

The demon smirked, hoisting himself up the rafters. He shifted into a comfortable position and propped his head onto the back of his hand. The beams rasped under his weight. His crimson eyes flickered to his Soulless pet who was quick to follow his trail, leading a cloaked figure to a tea set in between two hastily arranged floor pillows. 

“Ais! I know you’re home!” 

Princess gave him an eager stare. He put a finger to his lips and tossed the Soulless a treat from up above, one she happily scarfed down.

“Ai–”

“You should try looking up more, sparrow.”

“Well, hosts usually don’t greet guests from up above,” you said, pulling your hood down to meet his gaze, revealing bright eyes full of wonder and hope. Eyes that bored into his blood-red, piercing orbs. Ais saw them one too many times before they were engulfed by the same crimson that colored these eerily still waters. 

“Who said you’re my guest?”

“If I recall, your exact words were ‘you know where to find me.’” You crossed your arms. 

Ais sighed and jumped off the rickety rafter. The wood creaked beneath his feet and the waters rippled across the spring as he towered over you. His lips were on the verge of smiling. 

“Still not my guest though.”

“Even if I made a decision?”

“Even if you made a decision,” he flashed his fangs at you with a grin. You rolled your eyes and took a seat on one of the floor pillows. Princess trotted over to your side. Her tail continued to wag while you hummed a sweet song, pouring tea into two cups. Someone’s in a good mood. You were fairly relaxed despite dubbing the Seaspring as “the creepiest place in the world”. 

“So what’s your verdict?” he asked. 

“The tea is oversteeped,” you quipped, handing him a cup.

“That’s no way to treat a host,” Ais said, taking a generous sip of the moderately oversteeped tea.

“I thought I wasn’t a guest?”

Ais glanced at his cup, the floor pillows and the Soulless who seemed to enjoy your company more than his. He crouched down, meeting you at eye level. You flinched the moment his fingers made contact with your forehead. “You also thought I was a host.”

“Resorting to violence, already?” you giggled, rubbing your forehead. It differed from the crude laugh you let out when he told you about Ocudeus. This laugh was an endearing sing-songed melody that filled the empty spring with the same wonder and hope in your eyes. Ais’s own eyes lingered on the distinctly pink area of your skin. 

“Answer the question, sparrow.”

Your laughter halted. The mirth fell from your face as quickly as it came. You coughed and cleared your throat, “I’ve been thinking about what you said last night.”

“Said a lot of things last night,” Ais said dryly. He made three bad impressions during your first encounter. Many things had gone awry last night at the Wet Wick. Would that be the fourth or fifth bad impression he’s made since meeting you? It was an average bar brawl for him, but not for a newcomer as soft as you were. He flexed his bandaged hand. Well, maybe you weren’t that soft. 

“The thing you said about my curse… ‘Is the thought of living with it so unbearable?’”

“What about it?”

“I’ve been thinking about the things you said after that,” you paused to glance at him, but your eyes were quick to retreat back to your twiddled thumbs, “I’ve survived this far with it… but I don’t want others to suffer because of my curse.”

Ais’s lips morph into a visible frown, “So you want to take a drink.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Implied it.”

“I… want to find alternatives. Vere agreed to introduce me to some people from the Senobium.”

His frown deepened. You were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for all the wrong reasons. Though he can’t say that he isn’t fond of your chirpier side. The people of Eridia were typically solemn, apprehensive or the occasional thorn in the flesh.  

“The Senobium’s bad news,” he muttered. Ais’s crimson orbs glowered at the mention of the academy. You shrunk at the face of his deadly glare. “Seriously, sparrow.”

“It’s a little better than losing a bit of this,” you tapped the side of your temple, a gibe at the same gesture he used to explain the price of drinking from the spring.

“You’d be losing far more.”

“At least I won’t lose my shitty attitude.”. 

You were always the one to roll your eyes— always annoyed, and short-tempered, but it was Ais’s turn to roll his eyes now. “You want to keep that of all things?”

“Yes, some people happen to like it,” you beamed, jabbing a finger at his side. Your touch was as light as a feather.  

“I’m the only person who said that.”

“Verbally, yes, but I think others might like me too.”

“Oh? Like who?”

“Leander.”

A deep chuckle escaped Ais’s lips. He threw his head back with a rumble, his horns scraping against one of the wooden beams. The spring water swelled beneath him and his tea had run cold. Princess snorted as well. 

“What’s so funny?” you asked, tilting your head.  

“He’s friendly with everyone. Don’t let it get to your head.”

“It’s not getting to my head.” 

Ais hummed nonchalantly, pouring himself a bit more tea. The contents of the teapot had also run cold, but the demon continued to drain every last drop of the murky liquid into his cup. 

Drip. Drip. Drip. 

He raised his cup, “Sorry. Did you want some?”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I should be going now.”

“So soon?”

Words ran out of his mouth before he could catch them, but you put your hand up, a futile attempt to stop them dead in their tracks. “I just wanted to let you know about my decision. I’d rather not keep you.”

And yet they kept running. 

“Not like I got many things to do here,” Ais shrugged. 

“I’ve got many things to do in Lowtown.” 

Ais grunted and pushed himself off the ground. He smoothed his hands over his trousers, brushing off invisible crumbs. Then, he offered you a hand. 

“We’ll walk you back.” 

You checked your bandages before taking his hand. He squeezed your hand before pulling you up to your feet. You return the gesture, squeezing his own bandaged hand. The demon firmly squeezed your hand once again, as if he wanted the last laugh. Ais then turned his attention to Princess and whistled. At the signal, the Soulless rose to all fours. Her tendrils unfurled and coiled around his forearm as she trotted over to his side.

“Wanna go for a walk?” he cooed.

While Princess purred and her tail wagged rapidly, bewilderment washed over your face. You never heard Ais engage in baby talk. Few people have, but their expressions were always the same. A big, bad monster coddling another big, bad monster? How strange. How absurd!

“Oh, yes you do! Yes, you do!” 

You burst into a fit of laughter again. Princess cocked her head, looking up at her owner for an answer. Ais shook his head and scratched her chin. 

“I’m sorry,” you gasped between your giggles, “It’s just– ha– so silly!”

“Take your time, sparrow.”

“Sorry, sorry! I’m done now.” you said, wiping a single tear from the corner of your eye. Ais smirked. Sparrow sure was a fitting name for you– who always twittered in short, abrupt bursts. 

“After you.”

He pulled you towards him with a languid tug of his arm. His large hands stiffly held yours as he guided you towards the Seaspring’s entrance. The warmth of his hands seeped through your bandages. Princess trailed behind you, prancing along the wooden panels. You stared into the crimson water, the rafters, the talismans on the wooden frames– things that haven’t changed since your last visit to the spring or perhaps for a long, long time. The water formed small waves unnaturally and other Soulless creatures held your stare with a watchful, famished gazes. Shuddering, you turned your attention back to Ais.

Sunlight traced the edges of the entrance and as you neared the opening, the soft yellow rays kissed Ais’s sharp features, highlighting his jaw, nose and horns. He squinted in the harsh lighting, bringing his other hand to shield his eyes. You drew the hood of your cloak up. Princess dashed past your reluctant figures and leaped straight into the sun’s embrace. She let out a bark that sounded like a meow and, much to Ais’s dismay, stomped her legs in the bog’s muddy waters, urging the both of you to continue walking. 

“You heard the boss,” he pointed. 

You nodded and followed Princess. She was several meters ahead. Still in sight, but far enough to not eavesdrop. Not that Soulless creatures could listen in on conversations. Even if they could, there would be nothing to note. No words were exchanged between you and Ais. Your hands were still intertwined. Ais stole glances at you while you were engrossed in the horizon where Eridia stood proud and tall. At this angle, it looked like the sun was balancing on top of the city’s highest point– the Senobium’s spire. His eyes narrowed. He could hardly understand why anyone wanted to go to such a gloomy place. 

“Will you be at the Wet Wick tonight?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Ais clicked his tongue and averted his eyes to the side, “Depends.”

“Depends?”

“Might be there. Might not.”

“I see,” you smiled. Your eyes fixed themselves on the horizon and you both trudged across the mucky terrain in a stalemate of sounds. If the Soulless couldn’t find anything to note, perhaps crickets would. 

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. 

Ais pressed his lips together as the bartender poured his umpteenth glass of whiskey. He sighed. Ais had only known you for two days, but there was something about your response earlier that lacked the usual bite and spite you had. The hell did you mean by “I see”? Were you finally at ease with his presence? Were you simply relieved that he wasn’t going to be there tonight? Another bad impression? He shook his head. It didn’t matter what you thought of him. At the very least, you weren’t pissing yourself at the sight of him. 

“Something on your mind?” Leander’s peart voice chimed in. He patted Ais on the back with a firm smack before he slung an arm around his broad shoulders. The demon glanced at him, raising a brow. He had one of those chewy shots in his hands again. Ais licked his fangs. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Leander put his hands up defensively, “I’m not trying to pry! You just… seem a bit glum over here… in the corner.” His voice trailed off at the latter half. 

“No one to pick a fight with.”

“Well, there’s always some friendly arm wrestling matches here. Or maybe some tabletop card games?” 

“You just don’t want to pay for everyone’s drinks again.”

“I could pay for your next one,” he offered. 

Leander caught the glass in his hand when the bartender slid it over. He nodded at her and she seemed to have gotten the memo. Shouts erupted from the Bloodhounds by the door. Someone had scored in whatever game they were playing. The mage’s emerald eyes darted to his companions then back to Ais. 

“Duty calls.”

After another pat on Ais’s back, Leander was gone as quickly as he came. He jumped onto a table in the center, chanted something, raising his chewy shot glass and the crowd joined him. Claps, stomps, and hollers. Looks like he’s paying for everyone’s drinks again after all. Ais raised his glass a beat later than the Bloodhounds. He didn’t clap, stomp or holler, but the occasion was something worth celebrating. Free whiskey was better than cheap booze. 

Ice clinked as he set his glass down and wood creaked. Weird. He was familiar with the sound of wood crepitating, but that sound was reserved for the rafters in the Seaspring. The Wet Wick was home to the sound of wood breaking. If wood were to creak here, the only source would be that dilapidated door. Not from the roof. 

Ais leaned back against the bar counter and turned his head upward, to the sound of creaking wood. And there you were– standing on the stair landing, leaning against the railing. He tipped his head further back. You craned your neck, bringing your face closer to his, albeit at an awkward perpendicular angle. You smiled like you had struck gold. Your hair tickled his cheeks. He never paid any mind to the Wet Wick’s second floor, but he made a note to remember it now. The stairwell was also dilapidated. 

“Evening, sparrow.”

“I take it you were in the mood to come?” 

“Drinks were on Leander.”

“I see.”

There it was again. That damned “I see”. What the hell did you see? His eyes flickered over to your figure which was no longer cloaked. Your hair was disheveled, hands still covered like a maiden, and a yawn gracing your features as you approached the bar stool beside him. He saw something, alright. 

“Sleep well?” 

“Like a corpse.”

“That tired, huh?”

“I had a lot of errands to run today.”

You lunged forward and reached for a beer stein, a pitcher of water and a bottle of fruit wine behind the counter and poured yourself a helping amount of each into the mug. The barmaid paid no mind to you or your bizarre concoction. She continued polishing glasses as if you were a trick of the light. She must’ve seen combinations far more peculiar than diluted wine in a mug. 

Ais swirled his whiskey, “Got a side hustle, already?”

“I guess you could say that. I’ve been taking some odd jobs. Information is worth its weight in gold here and I need information more than anything. Of course… you’d already know that,” you said, placing your hand onto your cheek. 

“Hard not to know when you keep pestering me for some.” 

“Not anymore! You can keep your spring secrets.”

“There were no secrets. Told you everything you needed to know.”

“Yeah, in the vaguest way possible,” you deadpanned.

“Did you not learn anything at all here?”

“Excuse me?”

There was the bite and spite you had. He was starting to miss it. He worried you’d pick up some of the insipid Hightown mannerisms, but it was for naught. You were still the spitfire. Ais smirked, “You just said information was worth its weight in gold. I know none of your secrets yet you keep asking for mine.”

You frowned at a loss for words. He was right. Though, you didn’t have anything to share that was worth even a sliver of copper. Nothing interesting. Nothing groundbreaking. Nothing that would turn a few heads. Save for your curse, but Ais figured that your curse laid in your molten hands from just a glimpse so that was off the table.

“What would you like to know?” you asked, silently resigned. 

“Nothing.” 

“Then why did you make a big fuss about secrets?” 

Ais’s smile reached his ears. Your voice was nearing a shout. A rosy tint crept up your cheeks. The bar was dull in terms of entertainment on the weekdays– no roughnecks or angry sleazers–  but seeing you worked up was a sight for sore eyes.  

“You called the kettle black. Kettle’s gotta retaliate.” 

“What if I want to know more about the kettle?”

“Thought you were done with the spring.”

“I am, but I want to know more about you.”

Your smile matched his, reaching ear to ear or higher if Ais’s eyes didn’t deceive him. The demon hummed, fiddling with his silver pendant that dangled by his sternum. He was feigning deliberation, but you leaned in on his sea-glass colored bicep, humming along. A sweet harmony to contrast his timbre, ushering him to a conclusion.

“Shoot,” Ais grinned. 

“Why don’t you live in the city?” You pushed yourself off his arm. Your curious eyes leveled with his. 

“Don’t think people here like my pets much.”

The Bloodhounds seemingly roared in affirmation. Another point scored in their vapid game. Timing was great. Ais swirled his whiskey again. Its amber color mellowed out to a muted brownish-yellow. The ice had melted.

“You live out there for your pets? Isn’t it lonely?”

“My pets are good company and… I go out at night.”

“If you feel like it.”

“Especially if I feel like it.”

“So it’s not that lonely out there?”

“Being alone and being lonely are two different things, sparrow.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Is that what you think?.”

“So yes?” you tried again.

He shook his head. You opened your mouth and formed a slight “O” shape before closing it. Ais propped his head onto his knuckles and continued, “Can’t be alone or lonely with my pets and my friend.” He tapped his temple. You rolled your eyes. 

“Your friend talks?”

“‘Course they do.”

He let your snickers slip past his sharp ears. You still thought he had a screw loose up there despite him being dead serious. You, on the other hand, were dying from disbelief and laughter, but it didn’t matter if you believed him or not. If he showed you, you’d be as aimless as the Soulless or worse– pronounced as dead. Fortunately for you, he reserved Ocudeus for special once-in-a blue-moon occasions and tonight was a new moon… so he’ll play along with you. Yeah, he’s got an imaginary friend. They hit up the bar every other night and have a grand old time. The sea-glass ink that snaked around his arm was a matching tattoo with a drinking buddy whose name had long been forgotten. 

“What about you? Curse aside, why are you in Eridia?” Ais asked once your hysterics simmered down.

“I’m only here because of my curse,” you replied coolly. 

“Going home after you’re cured?”

You blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. Ais’s eyes never left you– like a vulture waiting on your last breath. Looks like he hit the nail on the head. Not that it was hard to miss. You were easy to read. If his heart was on his sleeve, yours was on a platter. 

“I guess not.” 

“No family?”

“Something like that.”

“So you’re a runaway,” he reckoned. 

Your eyes fell to the table and then to Ais’s metal-clad fingers which were drumming on the wooden surface.

“Got it wrong?” 

“No, I mean, you were spot on. Intuition’s good.”

“Thanks. Got it from my friend.”

“Pft– does your friend know anything else about me?”

“You’re good company,” Ais said.

“Oh yeah?”

“Bites and barks the same amount. Terrible taste in drinks, but you hold a decent conversation so… that makes up for it.”

“I’ll have you know that my tas– hic!”

Your hands were quick to clamp over your mouth. Muffled “hics” periodically bypassed your bandaged fingers despite your vain efforts. Beside you, Ais was doing his darndest to maintain a neutral expression. His lips were pressed together tightly as if all of his teeth would fall out if he were to open his mouth. 

Hic. Hic. Hic.

Ais had failed. A snort filled your ears. You shot him the deadliest glare you could muster, but it had no effect on him. His smirk was as smug as always. He locked eyes with you, taking your cup and filling it with water from a nearby pitcher. Maybe with a little too much water. The contents sloshed around the rim and splashed onto the table once he set it down. 

Drip. Drip. Drip. 

He gestured at the mug, “Need to be fed too?”

Your lips curved upward beneath your hands, shaking your head “no”. Ais motioned at the cup once again. This time, you obliged. You lowered your bandaged fingers and wrapped them around the mug. Excess water leaked into the gauze as you gulped down half the pint in hopes of quelling your antsy diaphragm. 

“You a lightweight?”

“Didn’t drink much back home.” You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. The hiccups seemed to have subsided. You exhaled in relief and hoped that your embarrassment hadn’t traveled too far up your cheeks. 

“No one to drink with?”

“More like… I didn’t go out much.”

“Good thing you’re free as a bird now.”

You smiled, “Yeah, I can go anywhere I want.”

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. 

Ais pinched the bridge of his nose as the gutter above his head pelted him with cold droplets of water. Stormy clouds invited themselves to Eridia over the course of the night, but they couldn’t decide whether they wanted to rain or not. They sprinkled a bit of rain here and some there, but showers never lasted more than five minutes. Even a man past his prime could last longer than these “storms”. The demon sidestepped the gutter and set his foot straight into a puddle. He scowled. 

A little water didn’t hurt Ais. In fact, he liked the rain… just not when he was cradling a flimsy paper bag filled with gourmet dog biscuits. He would rather have shrimp cocktails for breakfast, lunch, and dinner than to make another trip to Hightown and talk to that snobby baker again. 

…Maybe that was a stretch. His Soulless pets deserved the best and Ais would rather bite his own tongue than let seafood get anywhere near his mouth. One shrimp cocktail was enough for a lifetime. Dealings with an elitist dragged on for only a few minutes. Seconds if Ais skipped their hoity-toity pleasantries and opted to use his fists instead– a thought he entertained from time to time after one too many “please” and “thank you's”. It was more or less an intrusive thought, a controlled impulse. Ais was more than happy to wipe the disdain off that baker’s face with a solid punch, but then Princess wouldn’t have any fancy treats for when she was on her best behavior. He clicked his tongue. For her, he would be on his best behavior too.

The sun peaked out from the ashen clouds, shining a bit of light onto Ais’s path as if the sky was seeking penance for ruining his early morning shopping trip. He turned his head. He stared too long again. Even if shrouded by clouds, the sun was always there. Nothing special. His hurried steps padded the cobblestone road with a steady rhythm. His back faced the pearly bridge that connected Hightown to Lowtown. Ais adjusted the bag in his arms as he made his way through the maze of flood-eroded buildings.  

Highborn nobles would be appalled at the sight of Lowtown, but this was Ais’s turf. No pleasantries. People here were blunt enough to let the money talk. Business was business. No “please” or “thank you’s”. You only needed to pay. If you didn’t want to pay, you exchanged information or goods. A brawl also doubled as a negotiation. A shame folks here were scared shitless of the Soulless. 

Hu. Tu. Du, du, du, du. 

Ais stopped. His crimson eyes casted their gaze to an alleyway that bisected the deserted Lowtown street that led to the spring and the lively Amaryllis District. He spun his heel and looked up at the gilded buildings of Hightown then back to the alleyway. A detour wouldn’t hurt. The Amaryllis District was closer to the bog than that bakery was. Besides, he hadn’t been there in a while. A change of pace was much needed.The walk home would be less lonely too. The district never slept. 

La, du, du, du, du. 

This tune… 

The Seaspring was home to a few, repetitive sounds: The blood-red waters dripping and rippling from seepage, the purrs and growls of the Soulless and hushed whispers. When one ventured out to the Wet Wick, they, too, heard a few, repetitive sounds: alcohol being poured and measuredly sipped, the shouts and hollers of those who had one too many drinks, and faint murmurs. 

There was not much of a difference in terms of sound between the spring and the city (save for Hightown’s polite contempt for commotion and the entertainment district’s hustle and bustle) but Ais knew a sparrow’s song when he heard one. He was sure of it– not that he was a musical prodigy or any sort. The song was unfamiliar, but he knew the sound of your voice. He never took you for a singer, but he also didn’t take you for a lightweight. He bet you never took him for the type to spoil his pets rotten either. 

He smirked as he squeezed himself through the narrow passage. 

A  flurry of colors greeted him at the end of the tunnel like a gust of wind. Cerulean and coral lanterns strung themselves from building to building. Booths lined the street with an array of pastel tents. The avenue was nothing short of paintings, artisan goods, hand-crafted trinkets and gadgets. Street food vendors were also up and running, undeterred by the untimely hour. The elephant in the room was a large shell-pink tent sat in the middle of the plaza. People flocked and filed themselves around a ticket booth. The sign by the entrance read something along the lines of “troupe”. The fuss rushed past Ais, failing to rope him in. 

His main attraction was a lone stall several paces to his right. The stand was further from its competitors, but it was as busy as any other booth in the district. Tables and benches lined its perimeter. Most of them were occupied. Some had wax candles and pressed flowers while others had glass and frayed paint brushes. Ais scanned the area and smiled, eyes landing on a bench in the corner. It was you, alright. The tune you were humming increased in volume as he tip-toed towards your table. Your back was facing him, immersed in your art project. Your hood was drawn up as well, but he caught sight of your bandages. You were trying to be discreet, but you stood out like a sore thumb to him. The Amaryllis District was vivacious and colorful. Even the air smelled colorful. You, on the other hand, were as ominous as a disciple of death– black cloak, half of your features shrouded by a cowl, and hands wrapped in gauze. And you had the gall to call the Seaspring creepy? The superstitious folks would’ve believed you if you came knocking on their door one day and told them their time was up. 

But as luck would have it, Ais never bought into that sort of bullshit. And you were scary as a rabbit. Mischief spread across his face. 

He pulled your hood down, earning a squeaky yelp from you. His hand was quick to clamp over your mouth, but nevertheless, a couple of heads turned– including yours. 

“Easy. It’s just me.”

You nodded and pulled your hood back up with a huff. He removed his hand from your mouth, barely dodging the daggers you glared at him. He grinned. 

“Top o’ the morning to you too, sparrow.”

You cocked your head. Ais put a hand behind his neck and cleared his throat. His gaze averted yours. 

“Learned something last week. Means good morning.”

“Couldn’t you just say ‘good morning’?” you muttered. 

“Gets boring.”

You rolled your eyes and returned to the glass bottle in your hand. It was short and stout, snuggly fit into your palm. He peered over your shoulder and caught a glimpse of a trio of birds flying over an ocean that was a work in progress. He frowned, realizing your little work song had ceased. He set his dog biscuits by your paint palette. You raised an eyebrow at the paper bag. 

“For Princess,” he explained.

“Has she been well?”

“The good-est girl.”

“And you?”

“The good-est boy.”

“The best,” you joked.

Ais rested his head on the base of his palm and watched you add strokes of blue to your ocean. It was a shade darker than the other blues. It reminded him of Mhin’s cape. He grimaced. It reminded him of one of those rare nights in Eridia where the skies were clear enough to see the stars. His eyes trailed up to the stormy clouds. He won’t be seeing any stars anytime soon. When Ais turned his attention back to you, you had moved onto a lighter blue. 

“You an artist?” 

“Dabbled in it.”

“How ‘bout a singer?”

“I don’t sing.”

“Could’ve sworn you just were.”

“You misheard,” you said with finality.

“Did not.” He paused, then added, “Got sharp ears.” Ais pointed to his ears. They were indeed sharp– as most of his features were. Perhaps the only thing that wasn’t sharp about him was the ink on his arms. 

He was met with silence and took it as an invitation to continue prodding at you. 

“Okay then do you hum?”

Your lips were taut. Your brows knitted together in contemplation. Then, they relaxed. Ais smiled as you reluctantly nodded. The movement was incredibly subtle. If he blinked, he would’ve missed his prize..  

“It sounded nice.” 

“You think?” Your back straightened. 

“Yeah, could’ve taken you for a performer here.” 

“Now you’re just flattering me.”

“Honest, sparrow.”

“I thought about it before… back home… being a performer– even an artist,” you gestured at your glass with your paintbrush, "But I had… another role to play.”

You tucked your hair behind your ear and swapped the blue paint out for an off-white color, sketching sea foam onto your ocean waves. A secret was on the tip of your tongue. 

“Not anymore though, right?”

You nodded. Free as a bird, you thought. You angled the glass to finish up some details. You were by no means talented. It was nothing worth auctioning or featuring in a gallery, but it was something you enjoyed, something you hoped to improve at. You found yourself coming to this booth more often than you’d like to admit. The owner knew your face and you had a collection of painted glass bottles tucked away in your room at the Wet Wick. 

“Do you come here often?” you asked, changing the subject.

“Only to see a friend.”

You turned your head to the building with pink curtains. His eyes narrowed. 

“Not like that, sparrow.” 

“You were misleading,” you shrugged.

“This district’s alright. Too perfumy though,” Ais elaborated. A philanderer was not going on his mental tally of bad impressions on you. He’d like to keep the numbers at a humble three or four. He had causal relationships in the past, but not to that extent. It’s been a while too so it didn't count. That title was more suitable for other people. He could name a few off the top of his head, but he’ll do you a solid favor and keep those names to himself. 

“You don’t come here often because of the smell–”

“Too strong on the nose.” He tapped his nose for good measure.

“When you live by a swamp?” You finished.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The water smells… strange there. It’s not like the river here.”

He knew what you meant. He knew the smell. He was certain you did too. You knew that smell all too well, considering you were welcomed by it on your first day in this city. It followed you as much as it followed him. Neither of you said a thing. Not a word or a whisper. A topic like that matched the somber skies, but clashed with the vitality of the arts and entertainment district. 

“Smells fine to me.”

“That’s because you live by it!”

Ais smirked. 

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drip.  

Those pesky gray clouds have finally decided to cry their eyes out after two days of dilly dallying in the sky, submerging Lowtown with their tears. The ramshackle districts of Eridia were no stranger to floods. It was something the people had grown used to, looked forward to even. Floods may destroy a few buildings or dent a couple of roofs, but they also wash away the pungent smell of blood and death. The downpour was so strong that the Soulless avoided the city. The people were free to wander about at night, albeit with a few limitations. There was not a single booth set up in the Amaryllis District. It was the only time the plaza got a wink of sleep. Well, most of the district. A handful of lights were still on and all pink curtains were drawn, a sign they could go all night long if they wanted to– rain or shine. That wasn’t the case for most stores in Lowtown. Most closed when the downpour began, but bars were open and that was all that mattered to Ais. 

It was when Eridia rained that he simultaneously felt the most alone and the most at home. The flooded streets were akin to the Seaspring’s waters, but there was not a single soul in sight. He waded through the murky waters with unease. The rain turned the city into his domain. He was fond of it for many reasons, but it did not do what many Eridians loved about it the most: wash away unbearable stenches. Petrichor masked the smell of death, but it was prevalent nonetheless. Something lurked in these waters, waiting to be reaped. Or perhaps Ais’s intuition was off? His senses had been haywire for the past few days. He found himself looking over his shoulder to see if someone was behind him. Heat rushed to his usually cold cheeks. His heart raced even though he barely moved an inch. The rain started not too long ago so was it a long shot to say that not everything was washed out yet?

Splash!

Ais whipped his neck around, observing the Wet Wick’s alleyway. Blood spewed from the narrow pathway and coiled around his boots. It swirled and dissolved into the flood water congregating by the Wet Wick’s entrance. He cracked his knuckles and made his way to the alleyway. Even the rain couldn’t stop a good bar brawl. The victor of that fight was a worthy adversary if they could draw blood. Even if they weren’t, he was getting restless anyhow. Throwing a punch or two and knocking someone would be an easy fix for that. Talk about exciting. 

Thud! 

His grin faded as he stepped into the alleyway. His eyes dilated at the sight of Vere pining a cloaked figure to the wall with his bare hands. Blood spilled on the wall, dripping down into the flood water. Ais knew that cloak a little too well. It was black and embroidered with little bits of gold at the hem. He saw it a few times. At the Seaspring. At the Wet Wick. At the Amaryllis District. 

He could count the number of times he saw that cloak on his hands, but the amount of times it plagued his thoughts every now and then exceeded the number stars in the sky– When will you visit Princess again? What kind of weird drink will you have next time? Would he be able to hear that song again?

The same cloak that festered in his mind was now saturated with blood. Despite the ebony fabric, there was enough blood in certain areas to dye it red. Your torso. Your legs. Your head. Though shrouded by a hood as always, your cowl was the deepest of crimsons. It was tantamount to the thick red waters of the spring. 

Vere was the first– and perhaps the only one–  to notice Ais. He furrowed his auburn brows and dropped your body onto the ground. An audible thump echoed through the alley yet you remained still, blood pooling and pooling.  

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Ais responded with silence. His eyes lingered on you. He hoped for you to chirp and twitter about something. Curse or bite someone if you must. 

“Senobium’s orders,” Vere said, tossing his hair over his shoulder, “They were snooping around too much and… you know how that goes.”

"...I see." Two meaningless words that added nothing to the conversation, something he picked up from you. He never truly grasped the meaning of the phrase– he always thought of it as a sarcastic response– but "I see" seemed suitable to use for this specific situation. The scene before Ais was truly something and damn right he saw. He saw enough to know everything.

Vere's dusty pink eyes fell to his feet where blood accumulated. His ears drooped as he stepped away from your body. If he had put his tail between his legs, he could’ve fooled anyone.  His shoulder brushed Ais’s on his way out of the alley. “We should head inside. My fur’s getting soaked.”

The demon balled his fists, words flying over his head. He sauntered deeper into the pathway and knelt down by your side. The bar’s dilapidated door creaked open and then shut, briefly shining on your marred face. There was not a single fleck of wonder or hope in your eyes. They were dull and gray like the stormy sky above you. 

“I told you the Senobium was bad news, sparrow,” Ais smiled bitterly. 

Rain trickled down his face, hot and briny. He smelt the stench of death before. He had seen disfigured bodies in the bog and drew blood during fights. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but somehow he could not bear to look at you or your mangled neck for any longer. He was getting tired of the rain already. He was tired of kneeling by your side. With a dejected sigh, Ais stood up. 

Clink!

He clicked his tongue and lifted his boot up, revealing a shard of glass. Curious, he knelt down again, examining the shattered glass around your body. Must’ve been that bottle you painted the other day. Ais could barely make out the pieces, but he saw the various shades of blue you used. His eyes shifted to a rather large fragment by his boot. Unlike the other bits of glass, this one was yellow-orange with a small black line, the silhouette of a bird flying into the sun. Ais stomped on the fragment, crushing the painted sun beneath his feet as one would with a cigarette butt. He rose from the ground and turned his back to you, but instead of entering the bar, he ventured out into the storm. 

Then maybe, just maybe, he, too, could be swept away by the rain. 

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 15, In Which You Dance Twist With Mr. Goat (Pulp Fiction Style)

AO3

TAGS: self-harm, sharp objects, glass, politics

There was a time, not so long ago, when you were terrified of flying. 

The mere thought of that huge metal thing plummeting from the sky for no apparent reason (well, the human factor. It's always the human factor), a minute of sheer terror, descent, and then boom.

No survivors.

No bodies ever recovered.

You used to fear situations that so brazenly took control away from you. 

Well, you were wrong; there was something strangely comforting about letting go; about snuggling up in the plush comfort of an oversized leather seat, scrolling through messages on your phone to the roar of the twin engines. 

Raphael's hand was always on your knee, his tail wrapped tightly around your ankle, as if you could escape him on the private jet - or off it. A black diamond ring on your finger sparkled in the sunlight filtering through the oval windows. 

Across from you sat Camilla, while Jens occupied the far corner seat. Yurgir was conspicuously absent; you didn't pry into his reasons, just assumed his size exceeded the weight limit of any aircraft.

A headline in the Daily Mirror caught your eye: "Who is Anya Berger? What do we know about the mysterious girl who won the heart of a billionaire in ten days?"

What do they know, you wondered and clicked.

"Walk me through the panels again," Raul asked. "And the key people to talk to."

"Morning is boring," Korilla replied. "Mental health crisis, supply chain disruptions, sustainability regulations. You start in the afternoon, sir: your first is the AI discussions with the UN Secretary General's Special Envoy for Technology."

"I won't say a word about this soulless drivel," Raphael said, skimming through the agenda.

Camilla choked on her coffee while Jens flinched at her sudden movement, his hand swiftly resting on the gun now.

"Mr D'Avergni, Avernus' portfolio is 15% invested in AI technologies," she said as soon as she collected herself. "What do you mean 'soulless nonsense'? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said. I will not say a word about these abominable technologies. I have been made privy to information that they are cannibalising art and I will not stand for it". 

"Where did you hear this nonsense?" whispered Camilla. "Tumblr? Anya? Is that your doing?"

"I'm totally against AI," you interjected, without looking up from your phone, engrossed in the news article about your grunge heroin chic and manic-girl attitude.

They recommended black nail polish, drawing dark circles under your eyes and perfecting the look of total derangement to repeat your success. There were also some advanced blowjob techniques at the bottom of the article. 

"What is this panel 'Securing an Insecure World'?" asked Raphael. "I quite fancy the name."

"Sir, it has nothing to do with you. This is the macroeconomic panel on the dying middle class, youth problems, inequality, blah blah blah. Fear-mongering."

"Fear-mongering?" said Raphael. "I seem to have found my stage."

Camilla closed her eyes and put on her best smile. The flight attendant glided by in her pressed uniform and replaced your coffee; you were momentarily struck by the amount of cleavage she was showing as your eyes glanced upwards. 

To see very familiar eyes and a smile. Haarlep put a finger to her lips and gave you a little wink. You smiled back.

"Sir," Camilla said gently. "It doesn't work that way. You can't just speak whenever and about whatever you want in a global forum. It's all scripted, all pre-written."

"Astute observation," said Raphael. "Scripted conversations, scripted problems, scripted solutions, no room for improvisation. Davosneeds a breath of fresh air. Of honesty. Of a genuine hope for change".

Camilla said, "Of course, sir," and forced a smile. 

Back to the article: did they really get your ex-boyfriend to give an interview about you? Did he have anything good to say, that bastard who regularly forgot to flush the toilet?

Yes, he had plenty to say, mostly about you being not right in the head. You put him on your hit list and stroked Raphael's tail, which in turn stroked your ankle. They even got your mum on the phone, who thankfully had nothing much to say except that you were a good Catholic girl.

You saw some frantic movement out of the corner of your eye.

Camilla was waving you over to the plane's galley. You tried to get up, but were stopped by a tail wrapped around your ankle like a boa constrictor. "May I go to the toilet?" you asked, and Raphael uncoiled his tail, three times, with a slight reproach in his eyes. Jens did his best to keep a straight face, the corners of his mouth twitching.

Camilla pulled you deeper into the galley. She smelled of fresh coffee and burnout. 

"Anya, listen, I am very sorry that it has to come to this, but just between us girls..." she said, her fingers fidgeting with her diamond necklace. "Did Raul remember to take his medication today? I don't like his mood”. She shifted on her feet. "God, I miss the days when you could smoke in these things”.

"I'm not his doctor," you shrugged.

"Well, maybe it would be worth reminding him," Camilla drawled. "I'd rather not see viral videos of him committing political suicide in Davos. And I'm sure you'd agree."

You weren't so sure.

"I'm not going to poke the devil, and I suggest you don't either," you said, leaning against the galley counter.

Camilla sighed and gave you a very sympathetic smile.

"Anya, may I give you some friendly advice? Raul may seem like a half-god to you, but I've seen him curled up in a ball sobbing about how Daddy never loved him when he was high as a kite on coke. He's... as human as the rest of us. For better and worse”.

Just then, the plane shook violently, sending you both clutching the walls for support. The pilot quickly apologized over the intercom.

"Don't patronise me, Korilla," you said. "Do you think I'm just some pathetic, love-struck girl Raul likes to abuse?"

Camilla paused for a moment before suppressing a grin. "I'm going to invoke my right against self-incrimination. So tell me, my dear: who are you really?"

"Much more than meets the eye." You straightened up, standing slightly taller than her (which was not difficult). "I'm the one who gave him all this power in the first place."

"Wow," Kamilla snorted out in surprise. "Wow. Okay. Cool. Never mind."

"You need proof?" you said quietly. 

"Not really," she said.

"I wish you would get down on your knees and kiss my hand."

"What?" Kamilla burst out laughing. "Maybe you should share your medicine with Raul. Ask Dr Bambauer for a family discount. He will be at Davos, by the way, speaking on the mental health crisis".

"I wish for you to kiss my hand," you insisted. "Come on, do it, I have a point to prove."

You really need to learn how to calibrate these things. This one worked, though; she complied, sinking to her knees before you, a wild look in her eyes. Then she planted a surprisingly gentle kiss on your palm, leaving a crimson mark. 

"What the hell?" she whispered as she looked up at you. Raphael was engrossed in his paperwork, oblivious to the scene, so was Jens.

"See, Korilla," you started again after letting the moment hang awkwardly in the air for longer than necessary, "don't worry about Raphael talking nonsense. You'd be surprised how many people eat it up."

"Who the fuck is Raphael?"

"Your new boss," you said. "Well, old boss actually. Ahh... you won't really notice much of a difference; I hardly do myself sometimes," you lowered your voice to a minimum. "But don't tell them that, they'll get angry. You can get up now, this is getting a bit weird."

She tried to say something, her lips barely moving. You think it was 'how'. She was asking ‘how’.

"You see," you said. "The devil thinks I am very, very  special”.

Having said that, you came back to your seat. Raphael's tail immediately darted to your ankle and wrapped around it. You leaned back in your chair and watched Haarlep flirting with the pilot out of the corner of your eye.

It would be really stupid to crash because Haarlep wanted to have a quickie in the cockpit. The plane began its descent to Samedan St Moritz airport. The rugged Swiss Alps came into view out the window, snow-capped peaks glistening in the afternoon sun. 

***

When you book a presidential suite you no longer have to check in, you can just walk straight past the reception. The hotel was a mountain resort so exclusive that the website was just an artistic photo with no way to reserve a room. 

Raphael was eerily calm as he watched the staff unpack your belongings. His calm demeanour lasted until some poor sap nearly wrinkled his suit while trying to hang it in the en-suite cloakroom. A deafening growl sent the trembling fellow scuttling from the room.

The rest were given very generous tips.

Soon after, you found Raphael rehearsing his speech in a mirror, repeating the same phrases three times in a row, "when youth was told their souls were worthless, easily replicated by machines". Each time he spoke, there was a subtle change in tone, as if he was trying to capture some emotion - you were not quite sure what he was getting at - was he trying to imitate genuine concern? 

If so, he could work on his delivery.

He gave it another shot, the tension in his back muscles evident through his shirt.

"Excellent choice of attire, gattina," he gave you a look you approached. "Might I suggest an improvement? Not these trousers. The black pencil skirt with the white vertical stripes, the Saint Laurent one from the spring collection."

"It looks absurd on me," you looked away. "I don't have the body for it."

"You have the body for anything," he said. "Don't debate me on this. Slip into the skirt, return here and see how right I am”.

That damned skirt was a nightmare: so constricting that any wrong move felt like a tear waiting to happen; clearly designed by someone who either had never laid eyes on an actual woman or harbored a deep-seated resentment towards anyone the wrong size and proportion, which would be everyone. 

Yet somehow, you managed to wriggle yourself into it and made your way back to him.

"Now that's what I want to see," Raul smiled. "A beautiful woman and all mine."

"It's two sizes smaller than what I wear".

"Come closer, you silly creature, and grasp how breathtaking you are."

He tugged you towards the full-length mirror and swept your hair to one side so that you could take in your entire reflection.

Only it wasn’t yours.

When you played Sims and tweaked the controls to create the ideal you, you ended up with someone like this. Every trait similar to what you had, only better. A lot better. Smoother skin, better hair, smaller waist, perkier tits.

"They will see you through my eyes," Raphael said as his hands slid under your blouse and cupped your breasts. "These mortals will seethe with jealousy, envying me for having you and you for having me."

The woman in the mirror looked like someone Raphael would choose to be his consort. The skirt looked perfect, as it was tailor made just for you. 

"That’s not me," you said, mesmerized by the eerie reflection.

"Nonsense. You didn't know who you truly were until you met me," he whispered in your ear. "If it's not you I'm putting my arms around, why would you feel them?"

You felt his palms squeeze your breasts and roll your nipples between his fingers. His lips brush your neck. His growing bulge against your backside.

"Now would you be so kind?.." he asked. 

You could swear the woman in the mirror was bending over before you did, eagerly offering herself, sliding her panties down to her knees and placing her palms on either side of the mirror for leverage. His hands kneaded your buttocks, spreading you apart as his erection pressed against your entrance.

Foreplay wasn't on his agenda, you realized with a shiver. True enough, he penetrated you with a single thrust. First sharp pain, then the very familiar pleasure, liquid and pitch black and all-consuming.

"Look," he said. "Look at yourself. Look at me. Marvel at what you see."

The woman in the mirror moaned in response, pleasure etched on her face as the devil behind her ravaged. Her features twisted and blurred in ever-changing motion, skin wobbling like waves of water; she was shifting between all the women you ever dreamed of being - one moment Tav, then Christine, then Sarah Williams.

"It's not real," you moaned. 

His eyes remained fixed on the mirror the whole time he fucked you. You arched backwards into him, grinding against him with each thrust, skin slapping against skin.

"There is no reality," he whispered back. "Other than what you see in that mirror”.

His thrusts came harder now, jolting you against the cold glass. The woman in the mirror seemed to have gone insane from how well she was being fucked, her face twisted in a barely human grimace of bliss.

"Climax," he commanded with a snap of his fingers.

You saw the woman in the mirror go limp in his arms, a look of absent bliss on her face, and then remember that the woman was you. A jagged sound ripped from you. Your body responded to the command like a dog thrown a biscuit; your cunt tightened around his cock once.

Twice. 

The woman in the mirror morphed again; now it’s someone you’d seen a thousand times, the weird pale girl nobody ever gave a second look. 

You. 

Thrice.

The mirror you were propped against shattered - spectacularly so, its razor-sharp fragments raining down like confetti.

"Hang on," you managed to gurgle out in sheer terror as you tumbled, losing your balance. "Raphael, hold on..."

He didn't. Instead, he let gravity take over and you fell face-first into the broken mirror below, his weight following right after. Your scream of pleasure morphed into a wail of agony as countless tiny shards opened up on your skin; mutilating, cutting, obliterating. 

oh god it hurts 

Raphael groaned as he drove you deeper and deeper into the jagged fragments, your writhing and screaming doing nothing to deter him. The shards under your skin thrust in and out with each thrust, piercing right through you, through your face.

oh god it hurts; pulsated the single thought. The pain was nothing like you had felt before; it was the clearest sensation your clouded mind had ever processed.

A growing pool of blood spread like spilled wine on the white marble tiles beneath you. You closed your eyes tightly, but that didn't make the blood disappear. You blinked them open again... then closed them... 

Blood was still there. Raphael thrust once, so hard there wasn’t a single shard left that didn’t hurt you. 

Twice.

Three times, and he came inside you, spitting curses in Italian between ragged breaths. 

The pain suddenly vanished as if snapped away by his fingers; but its ghostly memory kept your tears flowing.

"I swear to God, kitten" Raul murmured as he rolled off you, "the way you're screaming would make anyone think I'm murdering you."

You opened your eyes and stared at the perfectly white tiles.

No blood.

No shards. No cuts. No pain.

Nothing. You looked up in the mirror: the Gorgeous Version of You looked back. You looked down on yourself. 

Exactly how you always wanted to be. 

You laughed in blissful abandon. Then, you rolled onto your back, catching sight of Raul's gobsmacked expression which made you laugh even harder.

read the rest on ao3