#why would you even want to bring your bird there

[fancyfeathers]

Always Prey But Never A Bird

Based on the Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling series

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Taglist: @jsprien213 @toast-on-dandelioms @plsfckmedxddy @lilyalone @sydneyyyya @yandere-wishes @cxcilla @nemesis-writer @sadslasher13

“Hey bugaboo, you need to eat something.” You heard Tim speak as your door opened and he stepped inside, walking over to your bed and he sat down on the edge of your bed, reaching out to rest his left hand in between your shoulder blades on your back. “Alfred made breakfast if you want to come downstairs or I can bring something up here.”

“I’m fine.” You responded, not moving a single muscle as his hand reached up to pull away the hair off of your face as you lay down, letting it slip from his hand and falling down your back.

“You’re not fine, you haven’t moved since you got here.” He sighed, his hand slipping away and tucking itself into his hoodie pocket. “You have not eaten or showered, it has been eighteen hours, you have-“

“I can’t… I’m tired Tim.” You sighed and reached for your phone on the nightstand, it somewhat surprised you that Dick left that behind but it was understandable why, to leave you cut off from everything right now would be like leaving alone to die, you were unstable and they all knew that. You turned on your phone and you could see the wall of notifications, unread messages from your friends and Gabriel along with at least twenty missed calls from Gabriel. You groaned and dropped your phone down on your bed and buried your head into the sheets. You glanced at your older brother, half your face still buried in the bedding, and it took you a moment to make yourself talk because you just felt tired and far too exhausted. “…I’m sorry about… you know…”

“Throwing me at a mirror? I figured…” He sighed and you felt the weight on your bed shift and the blanket over you is pulled over Tim as well and you felt his arms wrap around your waist and he pressed his head into the crook of your neck as you felt his hands rest on you bare stomach as your shirt had ridden up a little, his hands were cold to the touch which would have made you jolt if you already did not feel so incredibly numb. “I can take it, besides you were scared and it was not your fault, you’re safe now.”

“Safe in Gotham? You’re joking right?” You huffed, closing your eyes, hoping to fall back asleep and that he would just let it be, but when have they ever just left you alone? You felt Tim’s breath on your neck as he moved his head so that his forehead was pressed against the top of the back of your neck.

“C’mon downstairs, you need to eat something.” At his words you groaned and took your blanket from where it lay over him as you turned over on your stomach and threw the blanket over you and tucking the edges of the blanket underneath you. You could practically feel the eye roll from Tim, even if you could not see it, as he stood up from your bed and walked over to your bedroom door. “Okay, be that way, but I can’t promise you’ll like the outcome.”

You heard his footsteps trail off, though the asshole of your so called brother never closed your bedroom door, leaving it wide open to the hallway. You enjoyed the peace and quiet for the few minutes you had it and you silently prayed that they would forget about you and get distracted in conversation about their current or upcoming cases and or missions, but again, they never forget about you or leave you alone. You could hear and feel the heavy footsteps against your bedroom floor as another person walked a few minutes after Tim had left and you almost instantly knew who it was, Jason. You could have moved, but you felt too tired to and you certainly did not expect what he ended up doing in grabbing you in the blanket before you could react and throwing you and the blankets over his shoulder like a makeshift bag with you inside.

“Jason, this isn’t funny!” You shouted at your older brother as he carried you out of the room in the blanket like a sack of potatoes, you had the faintest memory of him doing this same thing to you as a child, maybe you were eight or nine years old, not to long after your mother and father got back together again, though that statement could be taken with a grain of salt, but you could not get a clear image of said memory in your mind. You were a lot smaller as a child, especially at that age, maybe a foot and a half shorter than where you stand now along with being about a hundred pounds lighter than you were now, not counting the twenty to twenty five pounds of muscle you have gained over the last four years of your life as a vigilante, but yet he still carried and treated you the exact same way over all these years. “Put me down!”

“Not happening.” You could feel the vibrations of Jason’s voice through the blanket and then when he took a step down the stairs you certainly felt it, the blanket bag bouncing as he walked down the stairs, your shoulder and side colliding against his toned back between the blanket which made you squeak in surprise. You could hear the voices coming from the dining room down the hall, or at least the family dining room, not the one that is used for parties and galas which only got louder as you got closer and then suddenly you were tossed over Jason’s shoulder and into a dining chair at a weird angle, the blanket draping over the chair beneath you.

“Master Jason, please refrain from carrying the young lady like a bag of produce.” You looked up to see Alfred across the table, he was setting plates of prepared food down for you all to take from, he looked up at you and smiled at you, and gave you a small bow with his head. “Good morning, Miss.” 

“Mornin’ Alfred.” You mumbled, slouching in your chair and you looked around the table. It seemed like everyone was over but people were still waking up and coming downstairs one by one. Jason took a seat down next to you, Cassandra was sitting on the other side of you, and then across the table, you could see Tim sitting down and sipping a cup of coffee and scrolling on your phone, his eyes flicking up at you for a moment, acting like he was not the one who snitched to Jason to get him to drag you out of bed. You glanced around the table and spotted there was a spot set for everyone set at the table, even a spot without a chair for when Barbara comes by to join you all for breakfast next to where Tim sat, Dick was probably picking her up. Then just like clockwork you could hear the front door open and the energetic voice of Dick from down the hall. Just as Barbara and Dick entered the dining room, Alfred set a cup down in front of you, it was hot chocolate since your father did not like you consuming caffeine but when you brought it up to your lips to take a sip you could smell the scent of espresso beans, it seems like Alfred was more in touch with the person you were than your own family, even with something as small as dietary preferences. “Thank you, Alfred.”

“Hey, sweet pea.” You heard Barbara speak as she rolled by you, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to your forehead, and gave your shoulder a small squeeze. “How are you holding up?”

“I…I’m fine.” You replied as she rolled past, going around the table to take her spot next to Tim. You had a strange relationship with the police commissioner’s daughter, she was dating Dick for years but she treated you like her own sister, well a sister in the way your siblings treated you, which certainly was not normal. They all were overprotective and their relationship with you was not exactly healthy, but honestly, some of them were just clingy, and uncomfortable so, like Dick and Stephanie, especially Stephanie, then of course speak of the devil and they shall appear. After you replied to Barbara, the familiar blonde young woman stepped into the room along with Duke. Stephanie’s eyes immediately lit up and she practically skipped over to you and swung her arms over the back of your chair, giving you a hug and practically pinning you to the back of your chair. “M-morning, Steph.”

“Good morning, sleepy head.” She practically squeezed you harder from behind, practically knocking the air out of your lungs. Then luckily she finally let go, walking past Cassandra to sit down next to her. Then Duke walked past you, patting your head, brushing your hair with his fingers, his hand slipping away and slightly messing up your hair even more as he walked past Jason to sit down next to him. Something about Duke felt like he was not pretending that nothing was wrong, he knew what happened yesterday, you were traumatized as far as he knew, he was well aware of what was going on in your head right now, and everyone else was probably just walking on ice as to not set anything off in you and make you cry, you doubted that Bruce or Damian would force a smile, they probably would dive into investigating those photos after breakfast if they had not already, but they would never tell you. Cassandra was just quiet as always as she sat next to you, but that definitely did not cover up the fact that she was bothered, she knew that something was horribly wrong. 

“Master Bruce has a board meeting with investors for a new project, he will be back this afternoon,” Alfred spoke as he set cups down in front of Stephaine, Barbara, Duke, and Dick. Then just as Alfred spoke, Damian stepped into the room, his right hand resting against the upper back of the other person stepping into the room, your mother, it seemed that he woke your mother up after Bruce left this morning. “Good morning Master Damian, Mrs. Wayne.”

“Hello Alfred…” Your mother responded, only half awake as she walked over to her seat at the table but her voice trailed off as her eyes landed on you, sitting next to Cassandra and Jason. She sighed and pulled out her chair next to the head of the table, where your father would usually sit. “It seems your father was not joking when he told me you were back.”

“Ya…. Hi Mom.” You could only imagine the overwhelming feeling of guilt your mother held in her heart right now because over the years she was the only one who supported and encouraged your relationship with your now ex-fiance, though you have not told him that you were breaking up with yet, maybe it would just be best to ghost him, you doubted after seeing those photos, the reality of who he was, that he was the type of person to take rejection well, especially rejection from you, someone he had not forgotten about in years, someone he waited for years, never losing hope that you were still out there somewhere. You watched as everyone began to help themselves to the spread of food laid out in front of you all as your mother sat down and Alfred left the room to presumably clean up the kitchen. You almost completely lost your appetite at the thought of having to eat in front of them, it felt off to you, it felt fine with your friends, and you all felt comfortable with one another, there was no tension around one another or discomfort or even fear. You reached out and only grabbed two pieces of the warm toast, knowing they would not be exactly happy if you did not eat anything at all.

“Aren’t you going to get something else?” Stephanie piped up as she glanced over at your plate with barely anything on it, and of course, her words made everyone turn their heads towards you, except your mother who could not even make herself look at you. So now you were caught like a deer in headlights in front of all your so-called siblings. She did not even wait for a response from you, Stephanie just reached across the table to grab a bowl of roasted and seasoned potatoes and then reached across where Cassandra sat to put some on your plate, well some make it sound like it was a little, no the amount she put on your plate took up a quarter of the plate. “Hey Dick, pass the eggs please-” “I’m fine… I’m not really hungry.” You spoke up and you could see Barbara stiffen up from across the table, her hold on her own fork was so tight that her fingertips were starting to turn pink. “I just don’t have much of an appetite right now-”

“Were you fine when my dad and Detective Montoya kept food for the vigilante, Songbird, on them in case they ran into her, or rather you? You were starving weren’t you?” You immediately stiffened up at Barbara’s words, your blood ran ice cold as the dining room fell completely silent. Before you had Mr. Austen as your sponsor you had next to nothing, when you and your friends were runaways none of you could really get a job without probably being found and getting sent back home, especially you, you could not do anything outside of the mask, not if you did not want to get caught. Commissioner Gordon was no fool, especially with a small teenager who caught and stopped an organ trafficking ring before the GCPD even learned of it, he knew you were some street kid, well that was what you were when you ran away, and he knew he would be seeing more of you so him tossing you snacks after catching gangs and murderers were nothing to be surprised about, it was only surprising to him when you told him that he did not need to do that anymore when you got Mr. Austen as a sponsor, but Commissioner Gordon still did and over time Detective Montoya did it as well when you and Clove began working with her more often as well. “Judging by your expression it’s true, isn’t it?” “Barbara that is enough.” Your mother scolded the red-haired woman for her overprotective behavior, finally speaking up in the silent room. Your eyes looked over at your mother as she picked at her own food, clearly having lost much of her own appetite as well. “She is not starving now, she is just not hungry right now, a sentiment I share at the moment.”

“...May I be excused, Mom?” You hesitated to ask in front of all your siblings after what had just been said out loud. You looked up at her and finally, she looked at you and nodded yes and you could just see the pure pain and anguish in her eyes. So you stood up from the table and grabbed the blanket Jason had carried you down just a few minutes ago and walked towards to dining room door and before you stepped out you glanced at your mother.  “Thank you.”

______________________

Not having to worry about running out of hot water is such a nice thing, back at the warehouse you all would take timed showers so you would not run out of running water in the middle of a wash, honestly, you could not remember the last time you had taken an actual bath, it had to be before you ran away four years ago. Your body just sank into the hot water after you turned off the facet and you slipped inside, it was slightly too hot but you could not bring yourself to care at the feeling of the hot water slightly tingling and burning your skin. The smell of strawberry scent soap filled your nose as you popped open the lid of the body wash and poured a generous amount of cleaning product onto your hand before you set the open bottle aside on the edge of the tub and began washing away any grime or sweat your body had acquired over the last day and a half.

But of course, there was a reason you gave up all these nice things, and the door to your bathroom just proved your point as Damian stepped inside. Your hands immediately went to cover yourself and your body sunk farther into the bath, trying to use the white bubbles on the surface of the hot water to cover up your naked body. 

“Have you ever heard of knocking?!” You shouted at your older brother, honestly, it felt strange now, you could remember him as a boy when you were little or the teenage boy when you were in high school together but now he was a fully grown man just like how you were a fully grown woman. “You have your own bathroom in your own room!”

“Stop overreacting, I want to talk.” He rolled his eyes at your words, your overreaction was how he would phrase it.

“Okay, we can talk when I’m wearing clothes and am not naked.” 

“You act like I have not seen you without clothes before.”

“That’s not a normal thing to say you know?”

“Your clothes… they cover your scars.” There was an audible ‘oh’ that escaped your lips after Damian’s words he spoke as he came to sit on the edge of your bathtub near the faucet so he was able to look at you. “I saw them when Father was dressing your wounds a couple of weeks ago after you fell off the bridge, where are they from?”

“The same place where you all got your own.” 

“No, I mean where you specifically got them.” You watched and surprisingly let Damian reach out to touch you, more specifically a scar near your collarbone from a blade. “Like this one, where is it from?”

“A rusted pipe I landed on when I got thrown by Clayface.”

“Two years ago, correct.” His words made you pause, looking at him with a look of confusion. “I have been keeping track or the stories about you and your… friends.”

“You just did not know it was me.”

“Correct.” He paused and looked away at the moment before looking back at you from where you sat in the bathtub. “Your fight with Firefly and Killer Moth a few months ago… you stopped appearing for a few weeks after that, how bad were those injuries?”

“I…I don’t like talking about that… my friend, Clove, got really hurt during that fight, a lot worse than me.” You shifted uncomfortably, you got burned pretty badly by Firefly on your back during that fight, but Clove, she only recently fully recovered from that fight before you met Talia a few weeks ago. Clove’s whole lower body was burned to some extent along with her left arm. 

“Let me see.”

“What?! No!” You snapped back, anger brewing inside of you for your brother’s disrespect for your trauma of what happened. You heard him sigh and he reached out to grab you by under the arms and slightly pulling you out of your water and looking over your body as you were divided between fighting against him or covering your body. Then his right hand grabbed your hands and forced them in front of your body and his left hand grabbed your waist and turned you around and a sigh escaped your lips as his eyes fell on the large burn scar on your back. His left hand trailed down your spine, past your other scars, a stab wound from from some thugs who tried to unmask you, a scar from a gash from a fall you took when you caught a girl who was trying to commit sucide and you saved her life that night, her name was Elizabeth and she was someone you still kept in touch with, checking up on her on your patrols, you became her hero and she loved you so much that her mother made a homemade plushie of you in your Sogbird suit. Damian’s hand rested flat against the damaged tissue on your back and you felt your brother hesitate for a moment before finally letting you go and you immediately pushed yourself back into the tub of hot water. Damian said nothing else, but there was a look in his eye that you could not quite place as he stood up from where he sat on the edge of the tub and made his way to the door. “Hey… Damian…”

“Yes?” “I need to go somewhere today as Songbird because I didn’t… I haven’t gone the last few nights.” You paused an sighed, you were lying to him but it was a half lie, you were going to do what you told him, but not just that since there was another stop you had to make. “There is a girl who lives down by city hall-”

“There girl who you saved from killing herself, correct?”

That’s right, he kept up with the news.

“Ya, I try to visit her on my patrols and I haven’t these last few nights and I am just worried about her-” “It… it’s fine, but don’t take long, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, thank you.”

You sighed as you leaned back in the tub and while you felt slightly bad for lying to your elder brother, you did not feel bad enough to say sorry or even feel remorse. You needed to speak to someone and get a little bit of advice that you could not ask someone for as the youngest Wayne because that would catch the attention of the press and you could not just ask anyone as Songbird since attention would be drawn as well as why Songbird, a vigilante, was asking for legal advice, so who better to go to than the former district attorney who was currently locked up in Arkham Asylum for his personality disorder, for lack of a better term.

You have a visit to make to Mr. Harvey Dent since no one will look twice at Songbird paying a visit to Arkham Asylum.

[sandwitchstories]

Dango and Dragons

Hey hey everyone! Its been far too long since I shared some new Daddy Duty content regularly, so here you go! I give to you all this silly little story about Dad!Sukuna and Mouse

If you prefer to read it on AO3 click here !

WC: 1800+

Summary: To distract the toddler climbing the walls in her father's absence, Reader and Mouse decide to have a picnic. They are pleasantly surprised by the duo's return and a gift Sukuna bought for Mouse (and Uraume).

AN: To anyone new to my Daddy Duty series- Mouse is Sukuna's two year old daughter. Welcome to Mouse's Mini-verse!

Quick note about a couple of terms used in story: Shiroshi = what kites were called durin the Heian era. It translates into basically 'paper bird' Takoge = kite flying festival (along with kite flying they also sometimes included a night parade and kite battles!)

CW: Reader is not described but referred to as Mama, reader is pregnant, there are several suggestive comments made between reader and Sukuna (they are lowkey obsessed with each other- but it's okay- they are married, your honor), family fluff

You smiled as you carried the basket full of food and snacks with one hand as Mouse held onto the other. She was happily singing a song she made up as she went, pausing occasionally to look at something or ask you a question.

Sukuna and Uraume had been gone for several days and Mouse was climbing the walls. The weather was nice and you had no obligations to attend to. It seemed like the perfect day to go for a picnic. 

The two of you had spent the morning making and packing up a basket full of your favorite things, including extras of everything as Mouse had insisted, stating that the other two members of your family could be back at any time and they would probably be hungry too. You smiled and happily agreed. Whatever was not eaten now could be eaten later. Waste not want not!

The two of you had just finished laying out the blanket and setting out little plates of the food when Mouse shot upright and looked towards the horizon. She rushed to the basket and grabbed out a cookie for each hand. You were about to ask her what she was doing when two figures came into view. One a great deal larger and broader than the other. 

Her abilities to sense her father were even more attuned than yours were. You smiled as she got excited. She waited, bouncing back and forth between her feet. She knew the rules. Until Papa said it was okay to come to him, she had to stay by Mama. It was for her safety and she knew that, but she could only muster so much patience at 2 years old. 

“Mama! I think he walking too slow,” Mouse almost growled at you as she squatted down cookies still safely clutched in her tiny hands. “I gonna fix it.”

“And how are you going to fix that?” You asked, amused and curious just what she thought she could do to ‘fix’ the speed at which her father was walking.

“Like this,” she said, standing up. She carefully set the cookies down on the blanket and cupped her hands around her mouth. She proceeded to yell at the top of her lungs, “Faster, Papa! Please and thank you!”

You choked down a laugh, covering your mouth with your hands. “You think he heard you?”

“Don’t seem it,” she pressed her lips together in a frown and called again. “I said FASTER PLEASE AND THANK YOU, PAPA!”

“Why should I?” Sukuna’s voice called back, you could hear the amusement in his tone from where you sat and it made you smile. 

“You taking too long!” She called back.

“Then you come to me, brat!”

She snatched up the cookies and took off running at the speed of light towards him. “I coming, Papa! I bringing cookies, Papa!”

You watched as he handed something to Uraume as Mouse approached and he grabbed her up into his arms. You were impressed with Mouse’s hold on the cookies as her father tossed her laughing form up into the air and caught her. 

You couldn’t hear the exchange from the distance they were still at, but just the sight of the three of them walking towards you was enough to make your heart swell with love. Mouse, Sukuna and Uraume- your beautiful little family. Your everything.

You rose to your feet to greet them as they drew near. Sukuna set Mouse down as Uraume moved to set the things they were holding by the picnic basket. Mouse was happily telling Uraume about all the goodies you had brought with you. Sukuna’s eyes, however, were on you and you alone.

He pulled you closer with an arm around your waist and gave you several soft kisses. “Miss me, precious one?”

“A little,” you teased, cupping his face and kissing him again.

“I missed you a lot, Papa!” Mouse said, plopping down on the blanket and taking a bite of a cookie. She looked at Uraume and said, “I missed you too, Urau-rau. You cook better than Mama.”

You sputtered even though you knew it was the truth. “What was that?”

She turned towards you and gave you a giant smile before saying in a comforting tone, “It okay, Mama. You tried.”

While a part of you wanted to wipe the smirk off Uraume's face, a larger part of you was looking forward to a little alone time with a certain someone’s Papa. You and Mouse both being on Uraume’s good side would make things a lot easier to negotiate. 

“Uraume is a very good cook,” you agreed, sitting down as Sukuna did as well. 

“You just want me to watch her tonight,” Uraume said in a soft tone, shooting you a side glare.

“I do! You know me so well!” You agreed, giving them a wink. “But you are a good cook.”

Mouse started emptying out the basket, personally hand delivering the treats to each person. She grabbed a skewer of dango in either hand before moving to plop down in Sukuna’s lap, leaning her back against him. She grinned up at him and held up one of the skewers. “Want some, Papa?”

“I have my own, brat. Those are yours,” he said, ruffling her hair with a free hand while he smirked down at her. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but you could see by the look in his eyes and the way his fingers combed through her hair just how much he had missed her. How much he loved her. It made you tear up a little. Damn these pregnancy hormones. 

“What brought home, Papa?” Mouse asked, using the dango in one hand to gesture towards the parcels Uraume had set down.

“Why? You think there is something there for you?” He asked, eating one of the cookies Mouse had given him.

“Yes,” she said with a grin. 

“What makes you think you deserve it? Hmm?” he asked, poking her chubby little belly with his finger, making her giggle up at him.

“I been good. Please and thank you, Papa!” 

“Have you though?”

“She has been,” you replied. “She has been a big helper the whole time you were gone.”

“I take good care of Mama, Papa!” she chirped up at him as she finished her snacks in record time. 

“Alright… Uraume, give it to me,” Sukuna instructed, eating another cookie.

Uraume set aside their snacks and grabbed the securely wrapped package and brought it to Sukuna. He used two hands to help Mouse unwrap it. Together they reveal a beautiful, brightly colored shiroshi. The diamond shaped bamboo frame held together a stunning fabric that depicted the image of a red dragon with bright blues and yellows behind it. 

“What this Papa?” Mouse asked.

“It is called a shiroshi. It flies in the sky in the wind,” he explained.

“It windy! We do it now, please and thank you, Papa!” she looked up at him excitedly, her chubby hands laying lovingly on the material.

“I don’t know…” he drawled out.

“Don’t be a tease. Go on and show us your skills, King of Curses,” you teased with a smirk.

“Oh, I’ll show you my skills alright,” he said in a low tone, smirking right back at you.

“With the shiroshi,” you rolled your eyes even as your heart fluttered at his blatant flirting. Still got it!

“Yeah, Papa! Show meeeee!” Mouse said, trying to wiggle out of his hold.

“Uraume, would you do the honors?” Sukuna asked, cocking his head.

Uraume’s eyes got big and they hurried to swallow the food they were chewing. “You want… me to fly it, Master Sukuna?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it. I mean, you are the one who picked it out…” Sukuna shrugged.

“Urau-rau, you pick it for me?” Mouse’s face lit up.

“I merely pointed them out,” Uraume answered. “But if it would please you, Master Sukuna, I will be happy to.”

Sukuna moved the shiroshi so that Mouse scrambled off of his lap. She bolted to Uraume’s side. She hugged their arm, looking up at them with a big, toothy grin. “Thank you, Urau-rau!! Lets go fly it now, please and thank you!”

Uraume sighed and rolled their eyes, feigning annoyance even as their eyes softened just the slightest bit and the smallest smile ghosted on their lips. They moved to stand, taking the large object from Sukuna’s outstretched hand and walking a bit away with Mouse in tow, skippin beside them. 

Sukuna took advantage and moved to sit beside you. He wrapped two arms around you and pulled you close, one large hand holding your shoulder, the other moved lower to splay and rest over your slightly distended belly. The thumbs on both hands immediately began mindlessly tracing a pattern. He kissed the top of your head as you laid it on his broad shoulder. 

You reached over to take one of his other hands, locking your fingers together and bringing them to your lips. You placed a gentle kiss on his knuckles before lowering your hands to rest idly, fingers still locked. 

You smiled as you watched Uraume battling the wind and Mouse before getting the shiroshi flying high in the sky. They held onto the rope, concerned the wind would be too strong for Mouse’s hold. It was an adorable sight to see, and even from here you could see the enjoyment on Uraume’s face.

“During our travels, when Uraume was a child, we came upon a Takoage festival. They have never really asked for anything, you know this about them, but I could see the enjoyment in their eyes as they watched the shiroshi soar above our heads. We stayed for the duration of the festival. The next day I bought them one, and they spent hours… and hours flying it. I threatened to dismantle the damn thing if they didn’t set it down to fulfil their duties and train,” Sukuna recounted to you, a small smile on his face as he watched them.

“Really? Huh,” you said, taking it in and imagining it with a smile on your face. “Admit it… you just wanted to take a turn flying it, huh?”

“If I had wanted to take a turn, I would have take a damn turn,” he grumbled, causing you to chuckle.

“Mama! Papa! Look! We gots a real dragon! It flying! It going WOOOOOOSH!” Mouse called, spreading her arms wide and running in circles around Uraume, imitating a dragon in flight.

“Be careful or it might get you!” you teasingly called out.

“Silly Mama! It not a real dragon, it no eat me!” Mouse’s laughter carried as easily on the wind as the shiroshi flying high above her head.

Sukuna relaxed against the tree behind him, fully at peace. How could he not be? The weather was nice. The snacks were delicious. His beloved was in his arms and his daughter was happily harassing his disciple just a few yards away. Soon there would be another welp causing mayhem alongside their sister. He couldn’t wait.

[noxturnalmoth]

Repentance

Summary: Repentance: n. the action of repenting, sincere regret or remorse.

Hurt, overworking and miserable, two souls find one another and fates intertwine even when they are worlds apart. How can one deal with the guilt of wanting something they cannot have? And why does going against the very principles you have imposed upon yourself feel so good?

Warnings: violence, crude language, themes of guilt, suicidal ideation, depression

Word Count: 6, 501

Masterlist: here

Chapter 2 - The House that Janna Built

Your body feels light, weightless in the dark red tinted abyss. You don't feel anything but complete utter oblivion, pure nothingness. Yet slowly, feeling comes back to you. You r skin burns, your lungs and throat as well. And from a foggy red, the world shifts to bright orange. Smoke fills your lungs, tears eat through the blood caking your face like the waves licking away at footsteps in the sand of the shores of Ionia. You taste metal, and you feel nothing but seering hot pain.

"It's okay, kiddo. I'm getting you out of here." A low voice belonging to a woman softly calls out to you as you are lifted in what seems to be their arms.

Kha nas xera.

I hate them.

Kha anas xera.

I hate it.

Kha nas-ren xera.

I hate this pain.

An-kha ana-yafeal qufa.

Make it stop.

Ni'i samahta.

Please.

Then the sounds rush in. But within the loud chaos, you cannot scream and beg for them to stop.

____

"Fuck!"

You wake up with a start, back firing up waves of pain through your body as you sit up straight, hand finding your phone to snooze the alarm.

Sunday.

Yesterday you did nothing but stay in bed, stewing some more over your friends' words. And although every fiber in your body protested, although every part of your soul hissed at you not to, you were getting up to go to church.

"If not for yourself, do it for us."

It's all that was repeated your mind on Saturday while you forced yourself to come to terms with the fact that you needed to try. You had to. For Sevika and Violet, you needed to get better.

Because no matter what they said, you feared they'd leave you before you're fully swallowed within your personal hell. Yet you couldn't bring yourself to hate them for it, it'd be deserved after they dealt with the burden of your existence within theirs for so long. The thought of disappointing them, hurting them and them leaving you for your own incompetence at saving yourself were driving forces for you, albeit waning since some time.

Kha anas xera.

I hate it.

Kha alalha xera.

I hate the gods.

Kha Jan'ahremas xera.

I hate Jan'ahrem.

"If not for yourself, do it for us."

So you do.

You push yourself from your mattress, the sheets stained in your nightly cold sweat before you take them from the bed, limping your way to the bathroom for a shower and throwing the filthy sheets in the washing machine.

The shower is hot, long in duration to relax your tense muscles and wash away the last of your nightmare before you resign yourself to leave it, unwilling to let your water bill climb higher than it already is.

You rummage in your closet for something "church-like". Unlike other cults from topside, Jan'ahremite beliefs didn't impose modesty in the same way, nor for the same reasons. Your people hail from Shurima where the deserts are so warm that wearing too much would make you die from overheating yet the nights would be as cold as the Freljord.

You remember your parents always owning shawls for when they'd pray, covering head, shoulders and parts of their chest when they talk to Janna. The Blue Bird. The Storm's fury. The Winds. Or whatever the believers would call her.

Not that it matters to you.

Your clothes are the classic Zaunite style, albeit better due to the blooming economy, of leather jackets, harnesses, simple shirts and cargo pants. Yet a skirt holds your attention, something more formal than your usual attire, yet still holding slits on both sides for ease of movement.

You groan as you pick it up, remembering the birthday Vi had gifted you the piece. Giggling when looking at your face as Caitlyn explained how it'd fit you.

"You would turn heads like this, Maestro."

"I don't want to." You had answered. "Love isn't the first, or second, or third thing on my list."

"It could do you good."

"Thanks, but I'll pass, Caitlyn. I'm grateful for the gift."

The skirt slides on with a shirt, buckles of harnesses are fastened and your corset is back around your middle, holding your back up as you adjust how it looks with the rest of what you put on. Your boots soon follow, a shawl put over your head and wrapped around your arms and shoulders before you take your phone and head outside.

Music blasts in your ears as you walk, walking towards the looming stone building. Carved in the material that so many Zaunites died for in the fissures. Figures, arches and columns filling the walls with intricate traditional designs you've grown accustomed to seeing in the books of the section you overlook at the library you work at.

Funny for someone as stuck in the past as you to hold archaeology so dear. Ironic too, for all the rituals and religions you've dived in you still hated the mere thought of believing and practicing.

Which made approaching the church all the more grueling. Not only are you about to step a food in a god's "home", but also bring your cynical atheism in a place of worship. It feels bitter, just because of your utter hatred for the one thing thos people believe in. To disturb those seeking comfort in the embrace of faith although you're doing a similar thing.

"Welcome to the Windswept Church of Jan'ahrem."

A voice calls out, a man maybe not much older than you greets and you see him step back at your stare, the ever present glare probably fueled with so much of your inner turmoil that he knew better than to remain close though his face stays gentle. His hair is long, pulled back in a ponytail, brown streaked with some blonde and his eyes a limpid blue. "We hope you find what you're searching for."

I doubt I will.

You nearly say, but hold your tongue as you step through the stone arch, passing mahogany doors to enter the large vaulted chapel.

Columns hold the ceiling, reaching towards the heavens with dark brown stone pillars. The walls are filled with grandiose stained glass sceneries depicting the history of Zaun. Beginning from the great Shuriman Empire, followed by its fall, sailors following the Blue Bird, Shuriman immigrants stepping foot on the shores of Kha'Zhun, the beginning of Osha Va'Zaun, its evolution, and the ever present goddess Janna protecting and watching over it.

You scoff.

For all its beauty, the church was still a place of belief for a god that had abandoned its own people, and it made you sick.

So you turn your head to the center of the room, pews lining both sides of the nave, creating a path towards the dark green draped dais and altar which are overlooked by the most beautiful representation of Janna you've ever seen. You step forward, the brilliant blue carpet softening each of your movements while the morning light bounces from the intricately tiled floor, stone lace shining with beautiful colors while you're pulled ahead.

The deity is represented floating in the air, her clothes and hair fluttering in the wind she summons, your people reaching out to her and grabbing her legs as they pray for mercy and salvation. The pedestal looking like grass and sand gently moving around them all, shifting with the gale.

What good is such artistry if it's made for someone who will never listen?

Once more you hold your tongue, the magnificence of the place dissolved by the bile climbing at your throat as you sit down in the far right of the pews, wanting anything but to be perceived while you take your earphones off.

Silence accompanied by the small talk of church goers, then their steps as they move to sit. Luckily no one comes close to you and some of the tension leaves your body.

"If not for yourself, do it for us."

I'm trying.

Yet all you want is to get up and leave, get back to the comfort of your own home and sleep the day away. But that would be the easy way out, no sleep would come to you anyways and way too much attention would suddenly be directed towards you in such a moment. So you stay.

Moments pass, you grow more restless at the wait as people trickle in, someone sitting on the same pew as you and making you regret the decision of getting up and not rotting in your brain. A cordial nod is extend your way and you extend the same respect, noting that the greeter is the man now sitting next to you before quickly looking back to the front, hoping that mass would start soon so you could get on with it then leave.

"I've never seen you here before, did you come to find guidance from Jan'ahrem?"

An-kha ana-yafeal qufa.

Make it stop.

"Something like that."

"Welcome to our community then, we hope you find what you seek. You'll see that we're close knit, I can even extend to you an invitation for our meetups!"

You hum, nails softly clawing at the pew as anxiety bubbles within you at the sudden attention, people from other pews looking at you now.

Kha kha-anas'yatahadatha qufa.

Stop talking to me.

"I'm Huck, by the way. Nice to meet you."

You softly offer your name to him and he smiles, pulling one of your hands in a handshake that had your skin crawling at the sincere kindness the man is showing you.

This is too much, I need to lea-

Everybody stands and your hand falls back to the wooden bench as Huck drops it, following along with his peers. You stand too, pain shooting from your back and branching to your entire body at the sudden movement. Yet you trail your eyes to the front of the nave, to what everyone was so reverent towards.

A man was walking to the altar with a cane in hand. Cassock tinted almost black, a tinge of something else mixed within the fabric, brown hair long and falling to his shoulders.

The priest.

"Greeting my friends. I hope life has treated you fairly since last Sunday."

His voice is accented in a familiar way, certain communities from from the Entresol holding a strong Va'Nox tint to their speech. And while he may have not been talking loudly, the man's voice was projected in the vaulted room, almost ethereal in quality as it commands attention.

"We all know of the darkness within our souls. The one that drags you down a spiral so profound that you lose yourself in a labyrinth of self-hatred, doubt and pain. Yet we know, we believe, deep down that this is not all that we are. We are more powerful than our demons, and Jan'ahrem, our shepherd, guides us to light with her breeze. The soft, cool of her touch on our broken selves heals us. Like wind brushing footsteps from the shifting sands. Let us begin to praise her for her love and kindness towards our people, her determination fueling us. Making us stronger with each day that passes under her protection."

Everyone sits again, your body hitting the pew with a soft thud and a sigh as you're hidden by the veiled backs of the churchgoers again.

What a load of bullshit.

You nearly scoff as everyone begins chanting, the priest's voice somehow always stronger. Never wavering once in his praise of the goddess watching over him. It's low, yet breathy, the accent rolling his R's, pushing his consonants and sighing his H's.

And it's unbearably beautiful.

For all you have against the church, you can't say that you despise this part like you do the rest. The lyrics make you feel sick, yet the man's voice is warm, welcoming, playing the part of the guide he is supposed to be even to someone as empty and destitute as you.

Next to you, Huck sings along. Face bright and filled with hope while you feel like decomposing in place. You know of myths where sinners burn in places of worship and for all it's worth, you feel like it's about to happen to you. Bubbling with rage as you glare at Janna's statue, looking to you almost mockingly when she's supposed to be kind, gentle, a guiding gale to those from Zaun. And with disgust at yourself, feeling undeserving of being next to believers while you silently hate their god, wishing nothing more than to melt in the pew and disappear.

You're even more lost in this crowd than you've been in years, you feel profoundly alone even when you're supposed to feel surrounded. They're all singing in Valorian, as opposed to your parents who used to pray in Shuriman. The lyrics to every chant escaping you and fusing your lips together like a hot knife cauterizing a wound.

You wouldn't have sung along anyway.

But a little bit of familiarity wouldn't hurt when you're like a fish out of the water, ready to be chopped at the fishmonger's stall.

The believers sit and the priest's soft voice grows lower as he speaks, the breathy quality of his voice still very present yet much more subdued as he preaches.

"May the gales guide us to a better place. We have already achieved so much, brothers, sisters. And our sails are leading us to a brighter future. It may get hard, but we're headed the right way, I can feel it and I know all of you do too. Janna has granted us her will so we could move forward even when life gets grueling, cruel and miserable. She is the way, she is the mother of our nation who brought us to this safe haven. And although we've had to fight for it tooth and nail, we're finally headed towards the vision she had of Zaun. A free, thriving and steadfast community."

Huck sometimes slides his gaze to you, a small gentle smile on his lips to coax you out of your shell. Yet all it does is make you more uncomfortable, feeling all too undeserving of the gentleness he treats you with, your skin feeling too tight on your muscles. Like old wallpaper falling off, cracking due to humidity and age.

So you spend however much time, sat even when believer stand to sing, fidgeting with your hands when they sit back down.

Then, one by one people start to get up, making a queue to the dais where the priest was now standing.

"Come, it's custom to receive the ichor. Just follow me, you'll know what to do there."

Huck extends his hand towards you and your aching back thanks him as you nod, letting him help you up and pull you to the end of the line. The wait is somewhat uncomfortable, standing while people consume the Jan'ahrem's "blood" and bless themselves with incense.

You knew of the blood and spirit from old tales your parents told you as a child, which eventually appeared before you once more with the books you read at the library. Your second job offering much downtime, to your relief, which meant many hours by yourself, reading and cataloging books on archaeology and rituals.

As the line dwindles you realize that albeit you know of the old practices, you know nothing of the new ones. Anxiety once more bubbling within the depths of your stomach.

Am I going to make a fool of myself?

No, people trickle out once this is done.

But then again..

While people trickle out after this last part of the mass, you would be left still making a fool of yourself in front of Father "what's his face". So you discreetly try to observe from behind Huck.

People kneel, which already makes you groan at the pain you'll be in after such an action. Then they bring their hands up, quite probably in the usual prayer motion.

Arms positioned horizontally, palms against one another while the middle and ring fingers are placed on the inner wrists of the other arm.

A gesture predating even the fall of the Shuriman Empire.

You can't see the rest, only able to complete the ritual in your head with the old practices. The believer would open their mouths and the priest would dip his thumb in the ichor concoction from his chalice, marking the tongue with its blood red tint, before the believer would go on to get the blessing of the spirit. A simple action of taking two sticks of incense upside down between two crossed fingers, the index and the middle, moving them around you so the smoke moves around the believer like a soft breeze. Ending the movement by placing the sticks right side up in the sensor and dipping one's thumb in the ashes filling it, blowing the remnants like the gale of the Blue Bird blew the sails of your ancestors.

Lost in your thoughts, you don't realize it's your turn, Huck already getting to the incense as you stand before the priest face to face.

From up close you can see the intricacies of his cassock much better. Cinched at the waist with a bright blue fabric belt, the same color as the rosary decorating his chest and neck,his robes catching light in what you could now notice is the color of your people. The Zaunite color representing your nation, a dark forest green that looked nearly velvety on the cloth of the man standing before you. His hair was not just brown, no, it was graying in streaks from under the soft, wavy curls adorning his head like a halo. Around his neck was a copper colored stole, embroidered with the organic shapes your people have always used, showing life even within the most unwelcoming territories. From the desert to the fissures. He looked young, near your age, face gaunt and cheekbones high, his pale skin dotted with two moles. One on his upper left lip and one on his right cheekbone, right under the outer side of his eye.

Amber.

The familiar color of many a Zaunite's eyes, the color attributed to the heat of your homeland, was also his. Looking nearly golden in the rays filtered through the stained glass, outer iris a kaleidoscope formed of their reflection.

"With the powers bestowed upon me, I shall bless thee with the ichor, the blood of our goddess which blessed our soils."

You kneel with difficulty and position your hands accordingly, yet the priest looks almost shocked when his eyebrows furrow and his lips purse softly. His thumb is dipped in the chalice, coming out dripping the red liquid symbolizing the ichor, and before he can move again you open your mouth. Eyes trained on his as saliva begins to build at the wait, his movements slow and nearly tense as he grips your chin and places his thumb on your warm tongue. Barely seconds pass yet it feels like an eternity as you feel his skin on yours, his digit in your mouth, his eyes observing you as if he is picking you apart and building you back up.

"With this blessing of life, of hope and of will, you shall build yourself back up. Like Osha Va'Zaun has many a time. May the Winds blow your way, my child."

His eyes widen and his body tenses once more, jaw setting and face twitching, while your lips wrap around his thumb. His gaze veiled with something unknown before you pull away.

"Kod'suhbi al ni-makhaka naa."

May the Blue Bird be with you.

You sigh while trying to push yourself up, groaning in pain before the priest's soft yet scarred hand appears in your vision, his face now gentle with a soft smile adorning his lips as he helps you up.

He is much stronger than he seems.

You nod your head in thanks, rushing to the incense so you can be done with it all. Huck already done yet waiting at the pews, calling out for you.

"I wanted to say goodbye, and to thank you for coming to mass today. I hope to see you next time!"

Tough chance.

You think, before sighing.

"If not for yourself, do it for us."

You have to come here at least twice before finally throwing in the towel and ridding yourself of the horrible presence of religion in your life. Your lips smack as you finally savor the ichor, the red liquid tart and sweet, made of fruit, yet thick and sticky in your mouth. Like blood.

Good marketing.

You nearly laugh but choose to reign your cynicism in.

"Yeah, see you next Sunday Huck." The man looks happy with your response and leaves.

"Goodbye Father Valášek."

Your ears tune out afterwards as you proceed to follow through with the spirit ritual, the smell of incense soothing the disgust you feel beneath Janna's gaze. Your eyes shifting to the altar from time to time as you feel the weight of a gaze on you, yet every time you look the priest only seems to be preoccupied with clearing away the last of the ritual.

The deity's gaze judges you as you walk back, setting yourself on a pew, back too pained after kneeling that you have to take a moment to relax before going back home. Yet your eyes are not "kind" like the goddess's, hers almost mocking you as you glare back.

Ni khe'inn.

You traitor.

You fucking traitor.

Was it funny? To live up above, safe and flowing with your meaningless winds while your people suffer, beg, plead and pray for you?

The thought nearly makes you want to puke and set the whole place on fire. Your breaths grow heavier as you try to calm down, feeling all too restless in this place of "peace", yet unable to leave just yet. It feels like every stained glass portrait, like the statue itself, are judging you.

What are you doing here, non-believer?

You should have died long ago.

You are undeserving of guidance and healing.

You monster.

You filthy, foolish, rotten girl.

"Glare at Jan'ahrem any longer and you'll set her on fire."

You startle, looking to your right where the priest is now sitting, chuckling yet his eyes full of curiosity.

"Can't say it's not what I'm trying to do."

"Oh really, now? In a holy place?"

"Holy or not, if I'm going down I'm taking her with me. And it's not a man in a dress using a cane that will be able to catch me after I'm done."

His laugh grows louder, from a low throaty chuckle to an open mouthed, breathy giggle and you raise an eyebrow at the man.

"If you hate her so much, I wonder what your story is for you to drag yourself to such a place."

Story.

You scoff.

It certainly isn't a fucking fairy tale.

"Please, don't put her on a pedestal. She's not special, I hate all of her kind."

"Wow, talk about god-hating."

"I fear I'm their biggest opp, Father Valášek." You spit out, yet your lips stretch into a smirk while a wheeze escapes him, his eyes sharpening towards you, nearly cutting you with their intensity.

"Aren't you a funny one?"

"I'm a hater, didn't say I'm also unfunny. I can only have so many flaws, priest."

Self-deprecating, self-hating, monstrous, empty, depressed, hopeless and broken beyond fixing are pretty good ones too.

"I don't find it a flaw within you."

"Wow, thank you oh-so-loving man of god. I am suddenly healed from all of my self doubts and pain, I could dance the prisyadka. Do you need a demonstration?"

"I'd pay to see that."

"And I'd pay to see you run a marathon."

Your eyes point to his cane and he scoffs, slumping backwards on the pew's backrest. He calls out your name and you turn to him with narrowed eyes before you remember he had been here when Huck wished you goodbye.

"What?"

"What brings you here?"

"What brings a pretty boy like yourself to become a priest when you could be doing cooler shit?"

He clicks his tongue with his eyes gazing back to Janna's statue, muttering "touché" to himself before looking at you again. Mischief fills his gaze.

"So you think, I'm pretty."

"Don't talk as if you didn't know, Father. And don't try me."

"I'll have you know that I vowed celibacy. We're not meant to be, fledgling."

Your eye twitches as you hold back a chuckle.

"I know, not like I'd want a fucking twink."

"Such language, within the house of a god! How preposterous."

"Yack yack."

"Great deflection skills, though."

"Thanks, I spent years honing them so men in dresses could praise me for them." And a pause rings between you two, the man smirking once more while your eyes gaze at him in defiance.

"You gotta admit though." He pauses, his lips curling up further as you wait for the end of his statement, his dark green cassock shifting like sands with the breeze under the stained glass' filtered light. The beads of his rosary seemingly shining and the copper of his stole almost glowing.

"I look damn good in it." And with that you crack.

Laughter bubbling in your throat and escaping your mouth as your body relaxes. The banter enough to alleviate some of the discomfort you feel while inside such a place, surrounded by imagery of things you'd rather die than worship. The priest joins you as "sure, whatever man" escapes you between giggles.

"Is your back alright?"

"Is yours?" You defend and the man sigh, you're torn between saying he looks like his priestly patience is waning or like he's holding back another bout of laughter. "Come on, you knew what you were getting into the second you started talking to me."

"Yeah, I did."

"You can only chastise yourself for it, now go and confess or whatever it is that believers do."

"Do you truly want me to go?"

"I don't know, do I?" And when he starts to leave you cackle at the groan he lets out before slumping back next to you. "Looks like you can't even if you wanted to leave my horrible presence."

"Oh yes, a woman with a sharp tongue, such a curse. Whatever shall I do?" He sarcastically bites back as his eyes roll.

"Careful there priest, wouldn't want you to see how empty that brain is."

His gaze snaps back to yours with an incredulous look, a hand over his heart in mock offense. Your arms drape over the back of the wooden bench as you lean your head back, a heavy chuckled breath escaping your lips before you close your eyes, the ambiance in the church less threatening and bile inducing to you after the friendly banter.

"You're funny for a priest."

"I'm a priest, didn't say I'm also unfunny. I can only have so many flaws, fledgling."

You show your middle finger to the man who softly slaps it away with a sigh of his own. "No, but you're very uncreative. Gotta step up your game, pretty boy. And I'd advise you against calling me a fledgling."

"Or what, fledgling? What will you do?"

"Or I'll really burn your Janna statue down."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Bite me." He chuckles once more.

Silence sets between the both of you, your own mind shockingly at ease in the man's presence even with his job description and your presence judged by the figures in the carved stone and gilded, tinted windows. The soft, colored rays dance behind your lids as you take a moment to breathe.

Men of the cloth were human, yet due to your own avoidance and aversion to all that is linked to faith you seem to have forgotten such a fact. The person besides you much less pedantic than you've expected him to be, even with his height, his role and his beauty. But wasn't that the nature of a priest? To guide, to love, to forgive?

It doesn't matter, he still is what he is and believes what he believes.

Says the ugly part of you, corroded by bitterness and hatred, hissing in your ears like a pit of vipers starved and ready to strike at anything and anyone, using you as a vessel for their torturous venom.

I should leave this place, I don't deserve this. I'm wasting his time. I shouldn't be here.

Says the other more pathetic part of you, friable and eroded by sadness and misery, crumbling at the thought of any change, of anything good being given to you, wailing like a pit to hell opened within your heart just to torment you.

Your eyes open to look at the vaulted ceiling, high above you and stretching towards the heavens, your right hand lifting to protect your face from the bright, tinted light of the stained glass lining every wall.

I'm doing this for Vi and Sev.

You tell yourself, when the rays begin to feel all too hot as if to burn you alive, like the filthy monster you know you are.

It's the last time I try.

Tears well up in your eyes but you hold strong, unwilling to show vulnerability in a place such as this, guarded and overlooked by a god that preferred mocking you rather than help.

Your face stings as it scrunches, a frown setting itself on your face. Doubts sprouting in your mind like flowers in spring. A spiral beginning once more within the deep, worn recesses of your mind.

Can I even be helped? For all I know I'm a lost case.

Can this place truly offer me what I need?

Questions that are not uncommon in your head. Vision blurry, you drop your arm over your face, trying to hold yourself together. You're already doing this, showing any more weakness could very well make you a puppet within the hands of fate, within the Father's grasp.

You're an empty, hopeless shell, beaten and bruised from a life of fighting tooth and nail for just a crumb of fulfillment that you've never felt. And probably would never feel. You're like Atlas, carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, your own weight a burden for yourself and anyone that dares come close. The willpower you take from your rage has waned years ago, yet you push yourself, you dare to hope things could get better even if they never do.

So you work.

Day and night to not feel the ever growing emptiness within yourself, aided by your isolation and misery. Nothing ever working towards making you feel any better and your guilt taking more and more space within your life with each day that passes. The exhaustion making the abyss take a stronger hold on you yet emptying your brain for just long enough that you can feel numb instead of miserable. A need for approval always quenched yet growing hungrier as days pass, comfort rarely given. Sleep seldom reaching you unless you pass out in your bed still dressed from the day and always interrupted by nightmares that now carry onto he waking world.

You feel an unbearable amount of guilt from burdening your friends, from never feeling right, from getting worse, from wasting your life feeling the way you do, for not being fixable, for never meeting your expectations that you know are beyond unfair. From pushing everyone away, whether you want to or not, to avoid any more pain. From not trying any harder to hold your brother back that day although you know very well that in every way possible you would have lost him all the same. Guilt at the feeling of not having cherished your loved ones enough in the past and present.

Everything you own, everyone you love, slips between your fingers like sand until all that is left is the void that life has created within you. Deepening, growing larger, no matter how much you patch yourself up, no matter how much you try to fill it.

You're like a pierced vessel, your contents forever pouring out uncontrollably until all that is left is nothing. Your heart like shattered glass, cutting, dangerous, dirtied and bloodied from how much you've tried to piece it back together with your scarred hands.

And then there's Piltover, opening its borders and helping Zaun yet making everything in its confines impossible for any Zaunite to afford. Raising the bar so high that most can never hope to reach it.

The gods, especially Jan'ahrem whose home you are currently invading, never helping. Never moving a finger to help those deserving when the ones who use their powers to further their despicable agendas as getting out scot free as if blessed by the lords above.

Even when you cried and begged as a child.

Even when your people prayed to them, to her, every day.

Finding your suffering and grovelling entertaining enough to help you as you try to claw your way out of hell. Your inner thoughts scarlet and burning like the scenery of the bridge you lost the last of yourself in. At least the last part holding any hope for yourself and the world you live in.

Kha h'asiras yakuna.

I am tired.

Your sleeve absorbs the tears escaping your eyes like a sudden downpour, leaving the dam of your eyelids no matter how hard you shut them. Sobs bubbling from within you swiftly locked away deep within the recesses of yourself that you've locked away to everyone, even yourself.

I need to be stronger, I need to hold out. But I can't anymore.

And you think of it more and more as time passes, your fight leaving you and only the young, scared girl that you try so hard not to be remains.

I need to be stronger.

Your nails scratch against woods, all sounds drowned within the cacophony of your mind, the hissing vipers and wailing spirits growing louder as time passes.

I'm tired of making it by the skin of my teeth.

I'm tired of pouring from an empty cup that I don't even own anymore.

I'm tired of being tired.

I'm tired of trying so hard only for nothing to work.

Something resounds within the impossible noise in your heart, yet it's hard to discern it from the rest. Probably another demon, rising from hell to torment you. Your hand grips the wood tighter as you try to keep your breathing constant in its depth and cadence.

I can't be weak.

I can't show it all.

It's ugly, it's monstrous and rotten. An all consuming darkness that taints all I touch, all those I meet. Marking them with the curse of my existence within theirs.

No one deserves to see. To hear. To feel just how pathetic I am.

Even less them.

Your teeth grit at the thought of the statue observing your distressed state with glee, at the priest next to you, at anyone that could pass by you at this instant. Your nails carving harder into the pew, pain piercing your fingertips before you ball your fist and hit the wood.

The new sound echoes once more, louder this time, yet still ignored. Your jaw setting at the inner turmoil, the searing pain flowing from your heart and through every cell in your body, hot and cold, fire and ice, the sands of Shurima and the Freljord's everlasting tundra.

I am undeserving of patience and care.

No one should have to be there for me, of all people.

You taste blood from within your mouth, the church's calm atmosphere after your banter with the priest long forgotten as your rage bubbles once more, this time pointed like war pikes towards yourself.

But from the prison of your mind, through worn and tight shackles, you feel hand touches your shoulder and your arm leaves your face, grabbing whoever touched you in a bruising grip. Your eyes glare at the man, his concerned face coming into view before a wince escapes him, your hand leaving him as if you have been burned. Your body sliding as far away from Father Valášek's as possible.

"What?"

"Are you okay? You've been like this for the past twenty or so minutes."

His eyes, always kind trail over your face before you turn it away from him. Refusing to show vulnerability as you wipe away at the remnants of tears left beneath your eyes.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Stop deflecting."

"What can I say? It's my strongest attribute, so I use it."

"I actually very much would like to know." He gently calls out from behind you, his accented voice softly pulling you away from your thoughts. "I am here to help, not to harm. Whatever you have against Janna or anyone else cannot apply to me. It's my life's work to simply open my eyes, my ears, my heart and my arms to those who need it."

Silence rings once more as you shuffle around, turning back to the priest with tired eyes, stinging from tears yet to be shed. Tears that would not escape you this time.

"I don't want any bullshit about gods, gospel or fucking whatever you do with believers."

"I can't promise anything, it is in my job description after all." He jokes, a welcoming smile stretching on his lips and you sigh, air escaping you as if getting away from you is all it could ever dream of.

"If your only advice is to tell me to turn to religion, I really will beat you with your cane."

"And I'd like to see you try, although you do have a strong grip I'll give you that." He flexes his left hand, wincing at the remnants of pain you have caused and your eyes trail to his. Gazing with restraint into the pools of celestial gold.

"Friends told me to come here because I'm lost." He hums. "This is my last resort." He nods along to your words, time passing as he takes in your words before he speaks again.

"Tell me, only if you wish, what are you seeking here? What do you want me to provide?" His hair brown hair catches the light in a way that makes him look as if he hailed from Mount Targon, the grey strands nearly looking like Lunarian silver. His patience and kindness nearly making your skin crawl and your throat burn with bile in self-disgust.

You claw at the pews once more, your eyes trailed on your left hand where your fingernails were broken and slightly bloodied from your previous ministrations. Then your eyes return to Father Valášek's with resignation tinting their depths, the look making the priest's eyebrows furrow in worry.

"Something worth living for. Something that can fix me. Because as it is? I'd rather die than go through another day."

And silence rings loud through the chapel.

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[cigarettesaftersae]

cream puff - 02 milk box

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Series: shidou ryusei x f!reader | contains : fluff, (slight)angst, a bit suggestive(its shidou.), highschool au, troublemaker shidou, reader loves baking, spring :P, warning is shidou

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Dear diary, My greatest secret is out. I’m ever more stressed. I can’t get this thing- or i guess someone off my mind, and i’m embarrassed to say why. What do I even do with this milk box?

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“What is worse?” Shidou asks, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Um… peanut butter?” you blurt out nervously, your voice cracking ever so slightly.

“You don’t like peanut butter?” Lui turns to you, looking genuinely offended.

“I thought you knew—” you begin to defend yourself, but Shidou cuts in.

“Well, let me know if you need anything. Thanks for the seat. I’ll give you another place to sit if you want?”

Your brows furrow in confusion. “What does that even mean?”

Before you can decipher his cryptic offer, Shidou leans over the table. You freeze as he leans closer—too close—and sniffs the air around you.

Sniff, sniff

“What… are you doing?” you ask, panic seeping into your voice.

He sits back with a grin that borders on unsettling. “You smell nice. It makes my cells buzz.” His eyes narrow slightly, as though he’s pondering something deeply. “Can I call you that? Buzz?”

You blink at him, speechless. Buzz? What is even happening right now? “See you later, buzz” Even with Shidou leaving, it’s like a ghost, his presence, and aura kissing whispers to you. Between the two of you and Lui, silence is the only thing filling the air. You’re both not shocked but genuinely confused by the current events, what more can a person leave an effect on than him?

“I think he’s into you.” Lui starts

“Don’t even start” you say, still confused by what happened

Finishing up your meal, a milk box was still accompanying you. You haven’t even opened it, not a sip or a lick. Should you accept such a gift from Shidou Ryusei?

“You gonna drink that?” Lui breaks in

“I don’t know, maybe”

“Maybe? Its from Shidou Ryusei. What if it’s not milk?” Lui’s face rusted up a scrunched nose and agitated eyebrows

“What does that mean? You mean he laced it or something?”

“Ehh…something like that?” Lui says awkwardly. Could she really be referring to…no..

“Ew! Lui stop that”

“I’m just saying! I heard he does weird activities in the men’s bathroom.”

“Oh like what?”

“Stuff, he’s basically a bad boy, troublemaker, and a weirdo.”

“Well I know about that. Everyone basically does”

Another step and you're taken back the classroom, wide whispers chipped in your ear as you waited so neat and patient for the teacher. So loud the gossips, however you, quite the opposite. Finding Lui was a rarity you thought would never happened. In this lousy area, you’re rather idle compared to the rest, so is Lui. You took your talents on baking, you loved the idea of putting something in the oven to come out ever so tasty. You might believe that’s the only reason why Lui ever befriended you. The treats were to die for.

In her mean red glasses, the teacher arrives bringing forth her energy to share with the rest of the class. Settling away the chippering birds, she takes a mean glare across the room, scanning, searching, traveling those eyes behind the glasses for a certain someone whom anyone can guess straight on. Shidou Ryusei, sitting right at his seat perfectly. It was rather ominous to see him in class never late, skipping till the bell rings to head home, or bickering till the sun hides behind a mountain. “First time you aren’t late. Is this spring blossoming a new leaf for you?”

“You could say that teach” His response sluggish, practically pushed his ears a whole other away, eyes centered no where on the board. You watch as his back is leaned, elbows rested by, and if you’re crazy you’d noticed a small twitch- a muscle tense move from his back. But no, it wasn’t, in a small second his back, along with his head is turned directly towards you. The immediate eye contact frightened you, shivering butterflies down your spine than your stomach and you rush up looking down on your notes with a pencil ready in your hand as if you weren’t just looking at his blonde to pink hair and unprofessional uniform attire. With a curiosity firing in you, you couldn’t help but take a another peek and he hasn’t looked away. This time you don’t embarrassingly look away because he sends you a little wave fancying you with a charming smile as well.

You couldn’t help but look up and then away, well who wouldn’t? Maybe he’s waving someone behind you? You look behind, and you know you’re answer, he’s looking at no one- but you.

How anymore could you be awkward, you didn’t even wave back. Too shy as you chose to focus only on your notes which held only doodles than the lecture required. You should be a good student, smart, and quiet. Writing each letter to the next or the number. Then study all day after, but there’s just one thing preoccupying your mind than the usual test next Tuesday. Shidou Ryusei

As the day rises to an end, the teacher announces her words before leaving

”Oh- and with the school spring festival coming up, it is your duty, as a class, to plan something creative that’ll contribute to the atmosphere. Good luck, and head home safe.”

A cheer amongst with the class, a rumble of brightness filled the air and the whole class is already thrilled in planning to what’s next. The class representatives took quick action to settle down the overjoyed. “Does anyone have any ideas what we should do as a class?”

“We can do a play about Romeo and Juliet, it’ll be so romantic like spring!”

“No no, we should do something with art!”

“What about a small bakery?”

An intriguing suggestion took favor, but left with plot holes of questions

“A small bakery? not bad…But who here knows how to bake?” The silence voiced louder than a clean whisper. All heads looked around waiting for ‘me!’ but no one answered. Not even you.

“Y/n does!” Lui chimes in vastly, breaking away the silence. And you widen your eyes at her till you really open your eyes you noticed every head is turned to you with an excitement. “Y/n? Is that right?”

“Yes! She’s literally a baking goddess, she just never shows it around.”

“W-what nonsense…No I don’t” You shy away, gulping down your dry throat, Lui confirmation only makes you more nervous.

“I can also confirm that” The voice catches you off ground, not expecting anyone to say that. Maybe Lui, but this was a male’s voice. Deep and luxurious, so you search around for the voice to realize it came from Shidou.

“Well if you don’t mind Y/n, your talents could be put to great use. And we’ll all help”

“Oh even better some of us could be like super cute waitresses! and waiters too!”

“That’s a good idea, Y/n?”

You blink once, twice, three times. All of this was going too fast, Lui revealing your talent, Shidou, everything.

“Uh-yes good idea..”

The whole class is back in cheer, took over by joy and vibrant cherry blossom. Claps echoed to your ears, and Lui is already by your side also excited. “Oh y/n, this’ll be fun!” But you couldn’t yet take in this joy and vibrant cherry blossoms. Not yet, you’re still trying to take this all in because right now you’re still preoccupied by something on your mind, Shidou.

.

.

.

[fruitless-vain]

The sudden increase in bird people bringing their birds in to not pet friendly places is…. Concerning

[vio1315]

Yeah, I think the societal/moral aspect is where the disagreement ultimately lies, but then I do find it disappointing if there’s no counterpoints (Not to say I am giving any hard points, but that it’s a direction I would hope things to progress to, you know? Kinda bounce back and forth.)

That’s alright, though, I know it’s not everyone's cup of tea to get into this type of conversation, full respect to that

Even my views of it being personal preference I think it is still interesting. I look at it in a similar vein as shipping content increasing in fandom spaces. In my experience there used to be a lot more variety.

I think this shift is probably connected? But again it’s at best a hypothesis. At worst, a gut feeling.

To me it’s offputting because it’s inserting vital things into less important topics, which is frustrating. I wouldn’t mind understanding all the hard facts of the situation that people draw from to reach these conclusions so it could be less offputting or anything, but to be sure, it is a different kind of offputting than the things I do view as societal ills (the horrors)

The only further clarification I have is that I tend to rb posts like this in hopes of an ongoing convo, so the idea of adding a bit more and more over time. It'll probably always be 'saying very little' initially. So there's probably gonna be disagreement about rb etiquette as well in there. Especially something like this if I can't fully grasp the meaning of it? In which case on correction it can branch off into a new direction. But I won't know if I don't say anything either way, so I view it as fine to add onto

i dont really know how to articulate this but its crazy just how many people dont even realize they dont care about female characters. all their faves are men. they never talk about girls without being led into it. and when you try to point this out to them they try to defend themselves that their faves are just the archetypes they like, despite clearly not caring when that same archetype is a woman. like i feel like at a certain point it is your problem with the common denominator if you cant find a single female character to enjoy

[agentromanoffsir]

neocities guide - why you should build your own html website

do you miss the charm of the 90s/00s web where sites had actual personality instead of the same minimalistic theme? are you feeling drained by social media and the constant corporate monopoly of your data and time? do you want to be excited about the internet again? try neocities!!

what is neocities?

neocities is a free hosting website that lets you build your own html website from scratch, with total creative control. in their own words: "we are tired of living in an online world where people are isolated from each other on boring, generic social networks that don't let us truly express ourselves. it's time we took back our personalities from these sterilized, lifeless, monetized, data mined, monitored addiction machines and let our creativity flourish again."

why should I make my own website?

web3 has been overtaken by capitalism & conformity. websites that once were meant to be fun online social spaces now exist solely to steal your data and sell you things. it sucks!! building a personal site is a great way to express yourself and take control of your online experience.

what would I even put on a website?

the best part about making your own site is that you can do literally whatever the hell you want! focus on a specific subject or make it a wild collection of all your interests. share your art! make a shrine for one of your interests! post a picture of every bird you see when you step outside! make a collection of your favorite blinkies! the world is your oyster !! here are some cool example sites to inspire you: recently updated neocities sites | it can be fun to just look through these and browse people's content! space bar | local interstellar dive bar creature feature | halloween & monsters big gulp supreme peanutbuttaz | personal site dragodiluna linwood | personal site patho grove | personal site

getting started: neocities/html guide

sound interesting? here are some guides to help you get started, especially if you aren't familiar with html/css sadgrl.online webmastery | a fantastic resource for getting started with html & web revival. also has a layout builder that you can use to start with in case starting from scratch is too intimidating web design in 4 minutes | good for learning coding basics w3schools | html tutorials templaterr | demo & html for basic web elements eggramen test pages | css page templates to get started with sadgrl background tiles | bg tiles rivendell background tiles | more free bg tiles

fun stuff to add to your site

want your site to be cool? here's some fun stuff that i've found blinkies-cafe | fantastic blinkie maker! (run by @transbro & @graphics-cafe) gificities | internet archive of 90s/00s web gifs internet bumper stickers | web bumper stickers momg | gif gallery 99 gif shop | 3d gifs 123 guestbook | add a guestbook for people to leave messages cbox | add a live chat box moon phases | track the phases of the moon gifypet | a little clickable page pet adopt a shroom | mushroom page pet tamaNOTchi | virtual pet crossword puzzle | daily crossword imood | track your mood neko | cute cat that chases your mouse pollcode | custom poll maker website hit counter | track how many visitors you have

web revival manifestos & communities

also, there's actually a pretty cool community of people out there who want to bring joy back to the web! melonland project | web project/community celebrating individual & joyful online experiences. Also has an online forum melonland intro to web revival | what is web revival? melonking manifesto | status cafe | share your current status nightfall city | online community onio.cafe | leave a message and enjoy the ambiance sadgrl internet manifesto | yesterweb internet manifesto | sadly defunct, still a great resource reclaiming online social spaces | great manifesto on cultivating your online experience

in conclusion

i want everyone to make a neocities site because it's fun af and i love seeing everyone's weird personal sites that they made outside of the control of capitalism :) say hi to me on neocities

EDIT: part 2!!

[vaguenotions]

Oh, yes, I just love your unannounced sleepover where you both come back from the bar after carefully avoiding telling me that's where you were going, and also neglecting to tell me when you'd be home! I definitely do not want to knock you on your ass and take a bat to your dome! That would be rude and unnecessary :)

Oh yes, please do start talking about shit amongst yourselves and make me feel isolated and othered in ny own room! These moments are what I live for, of course. Naturally. Who would ever have any issues with this arrangement at all?

[chososlilprincess]

Virgin Choso who doesnt know why he feels hot one day when he looks at you, something twitching in his pants and his face turns pink from…embarrassment? He doesnt understand these new feelings that come with having a human body, and he doesn’t know why he’s reluctant to ask someone about it. Not you atleast, he couldn’t ask you. What if you thought he was weird? or creepy? why does he even care? he’s never cared about silly things like what others think of him.

When he eventually confides in his younger brother Yuji, he tells him something he can’t pick whether is terrifying or exciting. “its normal bro, you just like her,” he tells him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “and when you like somebody they often make you feel uh…horny,” Yuji said grinning. Choso gets more and more embarrassed as Yuji tells him the basics of the birds and the bees.

Now Choso was in his bed, rock hard in his underwear after thinking about you for a little too long. He thought of what Yuji told him to do when his cock starts feeling weird, he had to ‘jerk off’ which his brother had told him would ’help the ache in his dick but make his feelings for you worse’

Choso sighed and reached a hand down to touch his cock, not yet reaching into his underwear. He sucked in a breath, it was terribly sensitive. pathetic.

He thought about you as he rubbed himself with his hand, thought about how you look when you laugh, about your pretty fucking eyes. The prettiest ones he’d ever seen in his almost 200 years of living. He shudders, and when he looks down again there’s a wet spot forming in his underwear, right where his tip was placed.

He feels dirty, he feels like a pervert. Thinking about his pretty friend while doing something so nasty. It feels wrong. But he needs it, he craves it.

He reluctantly pulls down his boxers, watching as his cock springs up, and it hurts. He thinks of you again, about that one time you stumbled over your own feet, and put your pretty little hand on his chest so you wouldn’t fall.

He touches his tip and he whines. fuck. it’s red and sensitive and little beads of what he assumes is pre cum, leaks out.

He starts playing with himself, grasping his length softly and stroking it once. He lifts up his tshirt and puts it in his mouth, to not make too much noice. it feels so fucking good already.

He begins stroking it slowly. up and down, just doing what feels good. He spits in his hand and brings it back to his cock to continue jerking off. He whimpers.

He’s so desperate for you to like him, for you to touch him, for him to be yours. And for you to be his. He closes his eyes, and he pictures you next to him, your smaller hand replacing his own, stroking him, telling him you love him. He thinks about kissing your pretty lips, holding your cute face in his hands. He thinks about being inside you,

his dick twitches as he groans, spilling his sticky load on his stomach while his whole body shakes. He stares at his mess, breathing heavily while he comes down from his high.

fuck. He wants you so bad, he needs you.

and Yuji was right, the ache in his now softening dick is gone, but the ache in his heart only got worse.

part two here

[the-sweet-hibiscus]

I know we love to cast Gaz as Mr. Perfect relationship goals but I genuinely think it's not until he dates you that he learns what a relationship is outside of appearances.

Like you start dating, and he brings you your favorite flowers every two weeks (even though you prefer pictures, bc the smell of them makes you sneeze) because he sees Price do it for his wife.

He gives you back massages (even though what's really bothering you is your feet) because Soap was bragging about how he did that for his bairn at home.

He even eats you out every time he spends the night (this...this you don't have a problem with) because Simon mentioned that's how he keeps his Bird happy, and Gaz knows that happy wife equals happy life.

But he doesn't understand compromise. He doesn't get that you want him to go to the work party and mingle with the ass hats you complain about every day.

He doesn't understand why you want him to stay in with you instead of going out with one of his mates for the fifth weekend in a row.

Because you're still there at the end. He romanticizes the idea that he comes home to you – because that's what the books on your shelves say, right? The bit who's so jaded by life but had a soft spot for you?

It's not til you're halfway out the door, tears streaming down your face, that he realizes how superficial he's been. When you ask him "what do you even like about me? What do you even like about what we do?" And he can't answer.

It takes him weeks actually.

Weeks to figure out how you would actually listen when he'd critique interrogation techniques on TV. Or the way that you agreed to go to the military ball with him – even though you'd rather have cuddled up with a movie and some snacks. But worst is how you'd make his mom's soup whenever he had a particularly hard week, not because he asked, but because you knew he needed it.

Once he does figure it out, though, he's determined. He will be getting you back. And he's going to be the best thing that ever happened to you.

[ja3yun]

Please Be Real | P.JS

ex!jongseong x fem!reader warnings: angst, smut(mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, begging, hurt w comfort, petnames (baby, princess), mentions of intoxication, alcohol, heavy conversation around wanting children, badly written, reupload, anything else lmk! w.c: 9.7k synopsis: you never thought you would hear the name park jongseong again until you get a call from one of his friends begging for your help a/n: hi! this is a reupload!! so if you think you've read it, that's because you have <3 i didn't edit this one and i think you will be able to tell since my writing is a little sloppy compared to now but i love this fic a lot. i was actually planning a new one today (sub jake) but i fear that one isn't finished yet! so please enjoy. as always, comments, feedback and reblogs are all welcome! love u <33

A sharp, jarring noise pierces your ears, the peaceful sleep you were in rudely disrupted. You groan out loud, covering your face with your covers but it does nothing to stop the ringing from your phone, it doesn’t even dull it a little, the little black device only echoing around the room louder.

Disoriented and groggy, you fumble for your phone on the bedside table, clumsily searching for it in the darkness. It isn’t your alarm, the usual peaceful tones of the birds chirping would be a welcomed sound, one that eases you into the day; no this was a phone call.

Finally grasping your phone, your eyes fight themselves open as you blink away any remnants of sleep, trying to find any sort of centre from your dizzy awakening. You look at the name on your phone but your vision is so blurred you can’t make it out but answer it anyway, knowing that whoever is phoning at this ungodly hour is clearly in need of your help.

“Hello?” you ask quietly, as if you don’t want to disturb the quiet of the night, unlike the person on the other end of the call.

“Uh, Y/N? It’s Jake.” His soft Australian accent drifts from your phone speaker into your ears. He sounds unsure whether he is supposed to be making the call, which to be fair, you understand because you haven’t heard from him in months, not after…

Letting out a sigh, you rub your forehead with the base of your palm tiredly, “Jake, why the fuck are you calling me at…” you pull the phone away, inspecting the time now that you’re more alert, “3.36am?” you ask with a hint of disdain. Normally, you would welcome the boy’s surprise call, after all, you did miss him. But considering he woke you up from a good dream involving you, Jeongin from Stray Kids, and a happily ever after; he wasn’t exactly your favourite person right now.

You can faintly hear some music in the background as he stays silent and you swear to yourself if this is to give him a ride home from a concert turned party, you’ll have his head.

“Listen, I hate to ask you this but can you come to Haven?”

“The nightclub? Why?” Your earlier suspicions are proving to be right, he does want a lift home. That would be an acceptable request if you guys were actively talking every day and the best of buddies but he isn’t even your friend, not really. 

You can hear him shuffling around on the other end of the line, his voice can be heard trying to calm someone down but his words are obscured as if the phone is wrested away from his mouth, leaving only disjointed fragments of speech drifting through the receiver. 

This sounds like more than just a simple ride home and it causes you to snap to attention, your senses heightened with concern. 

Jake finally brings his attention back to you, letting out a sigh of discontentment, “It’s Jay, he’s a mess and he’s calling out for you.”

Jay. Park Jongseong.

It’s been so long since anyone has dared to mention his name to you that it almost sounds like a foreign word.

Seven months ago, you and Jongseong had decided to call off your six-year relationship, both of you reaching the understanding that it was for the best considering your battling differences and needs within the relationship.

It wasn’t easy, the furthest thing from it actually. You and him had been inseparable since high school and once you both got together in year 12, it was always you and him against the world. He was the love of your life, that once-in-a-lifetime kind of love that only happens in fairytales. Your souls were both painted from the same brush stroke.

But he wanted a peaceful, routine life - a classic white picket fence dream. Evenings would be spent with friends, savouring white wine and casual conversations over dinner. His heart was set on imagining the echoes of your future children's laughter filling your home, family trips to the seaside, and comforting them with kisses and band-aids when they got hurt.

And you craved spontaneity, to embrace life with vigour, travelling the world together was your dream, free from the responsibilities of parenting, cherishing moments just for yourselves. You longed for random midnight trips to Tesco for birthday cake simply because you could. All you wished for was to be with him, just the two of you.

Suddenly, your brain clicks into an important detail and you hurriedly check the calendar on your phone and the date makes you slump in your bed.

Today is Jongseong’s birthday, well technically not anymore given the time, but that means he has lived his first birthday without you by his side in so long. You would always celebrate his big day by doing something from his handwritten bucket list he has had since he was a child. Over the years he has added more to the list, each birthday scoring one out to add another.

The list wasn't extravagant; it was filled with simple yet heartfelt desires. You bought him a bundle of guitar lessons and a Taylor 114e electric guitar to fulfil his wish of learning to play. When you noticed the Download Festival marked with gold stars on his list, you surprised him with tickets for the year Metallica was headlining. And when he expressed a desire to cook a meal from scratch for his mum, you gifted him a kitchen knife engraved with his name and took the time to teach him how to prepare her favourite dish.

His birthdays were the most precious when you were in them, and you weren’t there with him.

“Y/N?” Jake’s sweet voice draws you back to his attention and out of the memory lane swirl your brain has put you in. He knows this is a tough call for you to take considering you and Jongseong said to cut ties completely; it’s better to act like you both didn’t exist than keep a thread tethered to one another that would only hurt you more.

As Jake and Sunghoon whisked Jay away for his birthday celebration, their intention was simple: to help him let loose and have a good time. Jay had been buried in overtime work lately, leaving little room for socialising. Since the breakup, the idea of going out without you - dancing together, stealing kisses in the taxi ride home - seemed unappealing.

Waking up that morning, Jay realised it marked the first birthday in six years without ticking something off his bucket list. The familiar, worn paper lay dormant on his desk, a stark reminder of your absence. He had no desire to celebrate today without you by his side. If he could fast-forward through the day to escape the weight of his birthday, he would eagerly do so.

Yet, with two very persuading friends and a whole lot of whiskey later, here he was, curled up outside Haven, yearning out for you.

“Y/N please, at least come and convince him to get up and come home with us,” Jake pleads. You can hear the cries of your ex-lover more clearly now as Jake kneels beside his friend, checking in on him.

With a resigned sigh, you nod, “Okay. Keep him warm, I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

Hanging up the phone, you quickly put a brush through your hair and change into a baggy top, one you bought for Jongseong before breaking up, and a pair of grey sweatpants. This is a bad idea, you know it is, but you also can’t leave him to wallow in the middle of the street. You don’t think you could live with yourself if you didn’t help and Jake wouldn’t call unless it was something he couldn’t handle. 

You don’t want to see the state Jongseong is in, his wailing cries that you could slightly hear over the phone already made your heart clench in hurt.

As you drive to Haven, your heart races in anticipation with each mile that passes. Is your heart ready to face him after all these months? Staring into the love of your life’s eyes once again might break you even more. You’ve done a good job in keeping yourself together, at putting on a facade that everything is okay, when deep down you know that if one person asked you about Jongseong you would crumble and fall apart. 

He wasn’t the only one throwing himself into work to forget. You’ve worked hours and hours trying to keep your mind off the heartbreak, you thought that if you just focused and kept your head down, the phrase time heals all wounds would kick in and you’d be free of the torment of losing your first love. But it hasn’t worked out that way, you know that now as you speed down the empty roads to console the one person you are trying to forget.

As you reach Haven, you can vaguely see three boys under the illuminating sign, almost as if shining a spotlight on them to add to the spectacle that Jongseong is making. Onlookers are watching as your ex-boyfriend cries on the pavement, wishing you would come home.

With a quick exhale, you step out of the car before doubts can creep in, determined to be there for him. Jake and Sunghoon's voices float to you, attempting to soothe him and inject some sense into the moment. Bracing yourself, you approach, ready to offer whatever comfort you can, despite the storm of emotions swirling within you.

Sinking onto the balls of your feet, you lower yourself to Jongseong's level, meeting his strained figure. Instantly, the sight of his distress instantly shatters your heart into a million pieces.

An abundance of tears cascades down Jongseong's reddened face, obscuring his features like a relentless waterfall. His clenched jaw and the prominent vein on his forehead portray the intensity of his distress as he struggles to draw each laboured breath. Curled into himself, his body seems to contort with the weight of physical agony, mirroring the emotional pain that ripples through his trembling form. He’s been keeping this in for so long that his body doesn’t know how to cope with it.

Reaching out to grab his clenched fist, you shuffle forward carefully, “Jjongie?” you say calmly, trying to pull him out of his dispaired state and avoid startling him. “It’s me, baby, look at me,” 

Jongseong's body tenses at your voice and he slowly lifts his head, his eyes bloodshot and filled with an overwhelming mixture of sorrow and longing. For a moment, there's a flicker of recognition in his eyes before they cloud over again with anguish.

He doesn’t believe you’re actually here, considering the long nights where he has conjured up the idea of you, clinging to his imagination on the lonely nights he wishes for your touch. But as you squeeze his hand, he realises this isn’t a dream-induced sighting, you’re really here in front of him.

"Y/N..." he murmurs, his voice choked with emotion. Tears stream down his face in torrents, some landing on your hand that holds his. His cries reverberate through the air, each wail a sharp stab to your chest.

Cupping his cheek, you settle yourself between his legs, ignoring the stinging discomfort of the rocks beneath your knees, your focus solely on him. With a sad smile, you attempt to mask your own hurt, your touch a gentle reassurance amidst his storm of emotions.

"Hey, hey, enough of that now," you hush him softly, your voice a soothing melody in the tumultuous night. Using the pad of your thumb, you tenderly wipe away his tears, though they continue to flow unabated.

Jongseong leans into your touch, “I miss you so much, Y/N, please. Please,” he pleads as you feel his warm breath against your skin. He desperately nuzzles into your palm, seeking solace in the familiar sensation of your touch, the very thing he has been yearning for.

It’s hurting you just seeing him like this, the man you once knew to be strong-willed and resilient, keeping his emotions under control unless he’s sharing sweet vulnerable moments with you under the covers, is now a shell of himself, stripped bare by the weight of grief.

Turning to look at Jake, you offer him a small smile, “I’ll take him home.”

“You sure?” Jake asks with a raised brow, knowing that it’s a dangerous game for you both if you do.

“Yeah, I don’t think he’s going to move unless I do,” you chuckle sympathetically but there’s a bubble in your throat as Jongseong’s whimpers flow into your ear from beside you, pathetic and distressed.

Nodding, Jake gestures to Sunghoon, silently enlisting his help in the task of ferrying the drunk man to your car. The weight of Jongseong's limp form proves difficult as you all struggle to navigate his dead weight, his limbs hanging heavily without offering any assistance.

"Let's get you home," you murmur softly, your hands pressing gently against Jongseong's chest to steady him, aided by his friends who lift him onto their shoulders.

His eyes lock onto yours, an intensity burning within them. "Please be real," he whispers, his voice trembling with desperation. Despite feeling your touch and catching hints of your scent, doubt gnaws at him. If this is merely a figment of his imagination, he knows he'll never forgive himself. You're so close, so tangible - it has to be you.

With much struggle, the three of you get him to your car, putting him gently in the backseat so he can lie down, but he wraps his arms around your waist as his legs stay situated outside of the vehicle, holding you close to him.

"Come on, Jjongie, lie down for a minute," you coax gently, guiding him to stretch out along the seats. But he remains unmoving, clutching onto you as if fearing you'll slip away if he lets go. With a soft sigh, you stroke the back of his head, your hands moving in a soothing rhythm. "I promise, I am not going anywhere," you whisper, your words a tender vow to him.

Yet, your attempts to reassure him seem to go unheard. His face burrows deeper into your stomach, his words muffled by the fabric of your t-shirt and the weight of his tears.

You exchange a worried glance with Jake and Sunghoon, “How much did he have to drink?” you ask, scared of the answer they will give. Your ex-boyfriend has always been so good at holding his liquor that it must have been a hefty amount if he’s this bad..

“Like…two weeks' wage worth,” Sunghoon winces as he says it, his neck tightening as he looks at his best friend. It was hard to watch him, pound spirit after spirit, and be helpless in telling him to stop. He’s not exaggerating either, he must have spent at least £600 in there. Each round was a triple, accompanied by a few shots to wash the Jack and Coke down.

"Oh, baby," you sigh softly, returning your attention to Jongseong. You press a tender kiss to the crown of his head, hoping to offer some comfort amidst his distress. In some way, the scent of his shampoo also gives you some ease within the chaos. His response to your affection is to cling to you even tighter, his sobs echoing against your chest as he seeks solace in your embrace. There’s a crushing wave of empathy that you feel wash over you right at this moment. It hurts, seeing him like this and hearing of his struggles - ex or not - you care about him, and you also understand his pain.

You need to get him home. He’s a fucking mess and the longer he stays like this, the more it’s going to wear all four of you out. So, with a gentle hand, you pull him back and lift his jaw up to look at you. It was probably the worst decision you could have ever made. He looks…broken.

"I've got you, Jjongie," you whisper softly, squeezing his chin as almost a gentle pinch, to prove you’re not letting him go. This instantly relaxes Jongseong, though, his hands still grip onto you for dear life. His friends go to help you, break him away and buckle him in the backseat, but you halt them with a firm gesture, "You guys can go, I've got it from here."

Sunghoon shakes his head, heavy concern etched on his face. "No way. He's too heavy, Y/N. You won't be able to manage him into the apartment without us.”

But you stand your ground. This is your and Jongseong's mess, and you can’t let others help you clean it up. "It's okay. You guys have done your shift for tonight. Go home," you insist, your voice resolute and brooking no argument.

Reluctantly, Sunghoon and Jake nod, still teetering on the edge of arguing with you. But, they know better and bid you goodnight before going their separate ways home, leaving you alone with Jongseong and the weight of your shared history.

Taking a deep breath, you hoist him in, his body listening to you a little more now that you’ve reassured him you aren’t leaving him. He sprawls over the backseats and lays still, the alcohol consuming him into some form of comatose. You’ve been in this state before too, so you can recognise the blackout glaze that he’s trying to fight away as he keeps his eyes on you. He’s so scared you’ll just vanish into thin air. “I’m right here. Go to sleep.”

Surprisingly, he listens to your reassurance, closing his eyes and drifting off, allowing you to slide into the driver's seat. You turn the keys as the engine begins humming to life beneath you. Glancing at Jongseong's slumbering form in the rearview mirror, you steel yourself for the journey ahead.

_____

Arriving at his house fills you with a nervous energy that tightens in your chest. This wasn’t just his flat—it used to be your shared home. For two and a half years, this place held countless, irreplaceable memories, moments you thought you’d cherish forever.

You were the one who left, finding a new place closer to work and convincing yourself it was the practical choice. But deep down, you knew the real reason: you couldn’t bear the constant reminders of him that lingered in every room, every piece of furniture, every shadow of your life together.

Looking back now, it feels selfish. You left him here, surrounded by the remnants of your relationship, without considering how he might feel. While you escaped to a fresh start, he was left to live among the echoes of what you once had.

Lugging him into the flat, his legs are working in tandem with you now unlike before but he still isn’t proving to be the easiest person to carry. The last time you had to hold his weight like this was when he got drunk at your prom after taking sneaky shots in the hotel garden with his friends. It was funny, but you blame him for some of your back pain that you’ve endured in your early twenties.

As you push open the door and step into the living room, a wave of nostalgia washes over you like a tsunami. Though only seven months have passed, it feels like a lifetime since you last stood in this space with him by your side. Everything remains unchanged, frozen in time since the day you left. 

The same couch sits in its familiar spot, adorned with throw pillows and blankets you bought for last season. Photographs of you both, captured during Christmases and holidays, adorn the walls, each one a snapshot of happier times when life seemed so simple and easy. Even the vase that his mum had gotten you both for your housewarming gift, one that you loved and he hated, remains in its pride of place on the mantlepiece.

You shake the thoughts away and guide Jongseong toward the bedroom. Each step feels heavy, as you’re encompassed with memories that surround you. He’s been living in a time capsule, and while you’re struggling to look at it all now, you wonder how he has managed to endure it for all these months.

His arm is slung over your shoulder as his weight presses down on you, however, it’s the feeling of his nose brushing against your hair that nearly stops you in your tracks. He breathes in deeply, and for a brief moment, it feels like he’s trying to ground himself in the familiarity of you.

You help Jongseong onto the bed, propping him up carefully. “I’m going to grab you some clean boxers, okay?” you say softly. He doesn’t respond, lost in his own haze, so you move toward the drawers on the other side of the room.

Walking over, you spot a familiar t-shirt lying crumpled on your old side of the bed. You make a b-line to investigate it and as you pick up the crumpled t-shirt, a flood of memories washes over you, transporting you back to simpler times. Your fingers trace the familiar fabric, still faintly carrying the scent of you, now mingled with his cologne. You piece it all together pretty quickly, the way it still smells faintly of you but is not starting to be overpowered by his cologne. He hugs it at night to find peace of mind.

“Oh, Jjongie,” you sigh, heart reaching out to him. You’re no better, you have one of his hoodies that you snuck into your luggage as you packed and wear it when you’re at home. Just like your t-shirt, his hoodie is starting to lose its scent from the amount of times you’ve hugged yourself to sleep in it.

You’re no better, though. You think of the hoodie you tucked into your suitcase before you left, the one you’ve worn so many times on nights when the loneliness felt unbearable. Its scent is fading too, just like this shirt, but you still cling to it, just as he clings to this. Both of you, in your own quiet ways, are holding onto the fragments of a love neither of you has been able to let go of.

Jongseong has always been reserved, his emotions carefully guarded behind a facade of reason and rationale. To see him like this, vulnerable and raw, strikes a chord deep within you. If he had always worn his heart on his sleeve, perhaps it would be easier to understand. But the complexity of his emotions only serves to deepen the ache in your chest.

You place the t-shirt back on the pillow before opening the dresser drawer and retrieve a clean pair of boxers, his favourite ones with the faded Hello Kitty print that you've always teased him about.

Gently, you begin to undress him while he rambles incoherent nonsense that you can’t understand between the mix of tears and drunk slurring. The top half is easy but the bottom half proves difficult as he only looks up at you, whispering pleas as he stares at you, keeping his bum firmly sat on the edge of the bed.

As you finally manage to remove Jongseong's jeans and boxers, leaving him naked, a new layer of vulnerability settles over the room. He sits before you bathed in the soft glow of the hallway light, his silhouette outlined in the darkness.

"Stay with me," he whispers, his voice a gentle plea as his hands begin to roam your sides, tracing the contours of your body beneath your shirt. Each touch ignites a flurry of sensations within you, sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

His beauty, illuminated by the faint light, is both captivating and heartbreaking. The familiarity of his form, once etched in your memory, now lays before you in the flesh, a tangible reminder of the love you still harbour for him. How could you not still love him? He was perfect in every way possible.

He pulls you onto his lap, your sweatpants becoming the barrier between his cock and your pussy. Yet, none of you are really thinking about that right now, all you both want is to hold one another again.

“Jongseong, we broke up, and for good reason,” you rationalise with not only him but yourself as you find yourself sinking into his touch as his hands roam your back.

Nuzzling his nose against yours, he begins to cry softly again, his face rubbing itself against yours as his tears transfer from his cheeks to yours, “Please, baby, don’t leave me,” he 

mumbles as his lips ghost over yours. 

He doesn’t just mean tonight, he means forever. A tear from your eye cascades down your face, getting lost in the mixture of his, your empathy for him overwhelming you because you feel the same way he does. You need him in every way, you need to be close to him, to feel his heart beating in synch with yours once again.

But you know better than this. You’re both just prolonging heartache if you succumb to being with him again. You can’t give each other what you need.

“Baby, don’t do this,” you beg him, knowing that he has the power to pull you back into his life with the click of his fingers, that resolve you have worked so hard to build up now hangs in the balance, “Let me get you changed and then into bed, yeah?”

Reasoning with him is a lost cause, his arms now hugging you tightly like before as he ignores your suggestion. The last thing he wants is to put on those boxers because he knows when he does that you’ll leave. 

"Please, baby," his voice is raw with emotion, his desperation palpable in the air between you. And as you look into his eyes, you see the depth of his longing mirrored in your own. 

His plea hangs in the air, a heavy weight pressing down on your already burdened heart. You feel torn between the overwhelming desire to give in to his request and the harsh reality of the situation.

With a deep breath, you summon the strength to gently extricate yourself from his embrace, feeling the weight of his disappointment lingering in the air. His hurt expression tugs at your heartstrings, but you shake your head firmly, "Just tonight, okay?" you assure him, your voice soft but resolute.

Curse you and your heart that caves into his pleas so easily.

You disregard getting him dressed and instead, remove your sweatpants and replace them with those very boxers you planned to adorn him with and swap out your t-shirt for the one on your old pillow. Jongseong clumsily climbs into his covers, getting comfortable and finding some happiness in the fact that you’ll be in his arms at least for a little while. 

Once you climb into your side of the bed, he instinctively hugs you from behind, the comfort of your body pressed against his. He spoons you from behind, tucking his face in your neck as he exhales in contentment. This is all he has been craving since that night you left and he couldn’t be happier. All the turmoil and anguish from earlier slowly depletes as he finds himself sinking into a much-needed sleep.

You can’t deny you feel the same, his arms wrapped around you feel like home, like you’ve been on a seven-month business trip and you’re now finally back where you belong. You sink into him further, relishing his skin against yours.

“Happy birthday, Jjongie,” you whisper, bringing his hand up to kiss it before intertwining your fingers with his.

_____

Waking up, Jongseong feels like his whole body has crashed into a brick wall. His bones ache and his head feels tight, but there is a weight that feels so familiar yet foreign, his legs tangled around something and his arms holding it close. This feels different from the t-shirt of yours he clings to every night, this has more substance.

Please don’t be some random girl he thinks to himself, scared to open his eyes. 

Even if he wanted to open his eyes, he couldn’t - they were sealed shut, held together by something stubborn. Had he been crying last night? Wait, what did happen last night?

Fragments of the evening begin to resurface as he sifts through the haze: Jake and Sunghoon dragging him to Haven, the chaotic vibe of the bar, and the questionable decision to ride the mechanical bull. After that? A blank.

As he struggles to piece it all together, you watch him futilely attempt to pry his eyes open. Deciding to help, you gently swipe your thumb across his lids, clearing away the dried remnants of tears and sleep. His body tenses at your touch, his expression clouded with confusion.

Was he hallucinating? The sensation felt so real - too real. Or maybe the girl he brought home last night had a touch uncannily like yours. God, he hoped it was the first one.

Opening his eyes with your help, he blinks away the blur and sets his eyes on your face, his expression reading one of relief that quickly turns into astonishment.

“Y/N? Baby?” he whispers, his hands instinctively reaching for your cheek, “Please be real.” The same words he pleaded out last night leave his lips again. Jongseong has spent so many nights dreaming of you, wishing in an alternative universe that he can hold you again, so much so that this doesn’t feel real.

You don’t know what to say but obviously, you have to say something. It was one thing to confront drunk Jongseong who didn’t have a wit about him but now it feels like there’s a boulder on your chest as you try to conjure up the courage to speak to a sober, semi-alert Jongseong. 

All you can do is nod, no words escaping your dried lips. You look down to see you and his limbs mangled together just like they used to be, the feeling of his body pressed so tightly against yours almost feels like heaven.

He takes in the sight of you, the lines of disbelief on his features soften, replaced by a glimmer of hope. Slowly, almost tentatively, he reaches out to you, his fingers brushing against your cheek as if to confirm your presence.

The touch sends a jolt of electricity coursing through you, he’s caressing your cheek so tenderly it reminds you of the time you had the shift from hell and Jongseong held you the whole night, whispering sweet words into your ear and stroking your tears away, just like this.

Except there are no tears this time, you’re all cried out - months of mourning the loss of your relationship will do that to you.

As Jongseong's eyes meet yours, a flicker of recognition passes through them, followed by a wave of embarrassment. His voice is soft as he speaks, a hint of uncertainty lacing his words, "What are you doing here?" he asks, his tone laden with confusion.

"You got pretty drunk last night," understatement "And Jake asked me to come pick you up."

You can feel the tension in the air as Jongseong processes your words, his expression a mixture of shame and regret, "Sorry, I don't usually drink that much," he murmurs, his voice tinged with remorse.

The explanation stings, not because Jongseong has been drinking more, but because of the distance it creates between you. It's as if he's explaining himself to a stranger, rather than to the person who once knew him better than anyone else. The past six years you’ve known how he knows his limit and that he doesn’t tend to breach it, not subconsciously. 

All you do is nod, accepting his explanation as you slowly start to detangle yourself from him, “I better get going.”

“Y/N, please let's talk,” he pleads as his voice wavers, his grip tightening around your waist, and his desperation palpable as he pleads for your attention. But you've made up your mind, and no amount of persuasion can sway you from the path you've chosen.

"Jongseong, please, let's not do this," you implore, your voice tinged with a mixture of sorrow and resolve, "We're only going to hurt ourselves again."

You both know the reasons behind your breakup are deeply rooted, immutable truths that cannot be changed. It's not a matter of cheating or petty disagreements - this is about fundamental differences in desires and aspirations for the future.

But Jongseong refuses to accept defeat, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he breathes his love out, "Princess, we can work it out, I know we can," he insists, his words heavy with sincerity.

You steel yourself against the onslaught of his love, knowing that to give in would only prolong the inevitable pain, "We want different things, Jjongie," you remind him gently, your voice tinged with regret.

“I can do without them. It’s you I can’t live without…I can’t breathe without you here by my side.” His words are sincere and you know it, but you can’t accept it. When you both discussed your future, he looked so excited at the prospect of kids that your heart broke instantly. You knew right away that you couldn’t give him what he wanted most.

Closing your eyes and sucking in the bottom of your cheeks, you steady yourself to have this conversation yet again, “You can’t give up the idea of having kids. Having the life you want is much more important than me. You can find someone who can give you that.”

It hurts to say but you need to rip the bandaid off quickly. 

“You think I want that life with anyone but you?” His voice raises lightly, hinting at the anger rising into his chest. He needs you to listen to him, to understand him, “Y/N, if it’s not with you then I don’t want that life.”

Shaking your head determinedly, you sit up, “But I can’t give you that life, it’s not what I want.” You feel like you’re reliving the argument that ended it all those months ago.

“That’s okay-”

“No, It’s not,” It’s your turn to get angry and interrupt him, your eyebrows lacing together as you try to read him. How can he say all of this so easily? Like he wasn’t trying to promise you that he would change his entire life plan just to be with you. Is it romantic? Sure, but it’s also fucking stupid. No one should change just to keep someone they love because if they were meant to be, then their values would align…right?

"It's not that simple, Jongseong," you argue through the silence, your voice tinged with frustration, "You can't just sweep aside your dreams for the sake of our relationship. What about what you want? What about your own happiness?"

Jongseong sits up, the covers hiding his naked lower half; he hadn’t realised he was naked and it only adds a new layer to his vulnerability. He is truly laying himself bare to you.

But Jongseong's gaze remains unwavering, his determination evident in the set of his jaw, "Since we broke up, I've realised that you are the life I want," he declares, his words carrying the weight of his conviction, "Whatever that looks like for you, I want it."

You feel his words like a pickaxe, slowly breaking away at the wall you’ve spent months building around your heart and reason. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions sweeps over you. On one hand, his declaration of love sparks a glimmer of hope amidst the ruins of your fractured relationship. Yet, on the other hand, doubt claws at your insides, gnawing away at any semblance of certainty, the pure love that you have for him only wishes to make sure he’s happy and gets everything he wants in life.

"Jongseong, I..." you start, your voice wavering as you grapple with the turmoil inside. How do you express the depth of your feelings?

Grabbing your face with his large hands, he kisses you, his soft lips now coating yours. You’ve missed him so much that you become overwhelmed by his actions, a soft tear leaking from your ducts.

So much for being all cried out, you think to yourself.

"It's you, Y/N, I only need you," Jongseong whispers against your lips, his urgency evident as he seeks solace in the warmth of your embrace, stealing kisses with a hunger born from longing.

In spite of yourself, you find your lips responding to his touch, drawn in by the familiar sensation of his mouth against yours. Your arms instinctively wrap around him, fingers grazing lightly over the muscles of his back as you hold him close; your brain is telling you to push him away but your heart is pulling him tighter to you. 

"It's not fair to you, Jjongie," you murmur, the words weighted with a sense of guilt and remorse.

"I'd rather be with you happily than with kids and someone else miserably," Jongseong confesses, his words carrying the weight of his heart's deepest desires.

Jongseong wishes you could see it from his point of view; of course, he has wanted kids and a comfortable life for so long but the idea of achieving that when you are not his wife seems fucking ridiculous. There is no one in this world he wants to be with other than you and if that means he has to be an uncle rather than a dad, so be it.

You are all he has ever wanted. To grow old with you, to experience each of your accomplishments together and have you close to him. He wants to protect you and look after you the way he knows he should and that is his new life goal. This isn’t a decision he has made lightly but a decision he wanted to make.

His hands glide down your sides, trailing over your thighs as his kisses continue, each touch a manifestation of the craving that has consumed him. His need for you is overwhelming, every fibre of his being yearning for you in every possible way. Another moment without you feels unbearable, as if he might die.

You surrender to his touch, sinking back onto the bed as he hovers above you, his grip on your thighs firm yet tender. The intensity of his desire leaves marks, but in this moment, you welcome anything he offers.

It's astonishing how the feel of his lips on yours dismantles your resolve, scattering your apprehensions like leaves in the wind.

Slowly, he removes from you the t-shirt that has absorbed his tears on countless nights and the boxers you borrowed from him, leaving you exposed beneath him. As he looks upon your naked figure, his eyes drink in every curve and contour, offering silent gratitude to the heavens for letting him have you like this. You are everything he wants and more.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N,” he whispers into your mouth as he presses his body hard against yours, his member rubbing itself against your folds. 

The feeling of him rubbing against you is enough to elicit a moan. No amount of toys was enough to satisfy you, not the way Jongseong could. Over the years you learned about one another’s bodies so intimately that no one could ever know you the way he does, not even yourself. 

You couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping with someone else, even if you and Jongseong had broken up, your heart couldn’t do it. You never even considered a one night stand because deep down you knew that your body belonged to Jongseong and no one else.

He moves his hips, slowly rubbing himself against you, the bell of his cock grazing your clit teasingly. It feels like a dream for him to touch you this way again, and the fact that you were coating his cock with your wetness was enough to tell him that you need this too.

Kissing you desperately, his tongue darts into your mouth and swirls with yours as he seeks to taste you, his buds dancing along with yours. He moans into your mouth and acts as an echo of his love for you.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers as his hips continue to move slowly, teasing your hole with his tip each time he draws back. It’s becoming increasingly obvious how much it’s starting to irritate you, your need to have him inside you is evident in your whines of frustration.

"I missed you too, baby. More than anything," you confess, your hand finding his cock as you press against him, seeking to create greater friction between you. With each movement, the pressure builds, sending waves of pleasure coursing through both of you.

With each synchronised movement, the tension between you mounts, the desire for one another lingering in the warm air. His hips continue their slow, teasing rhythm, each brush against your core sending sparks of want up your heat and into your chest.

Feeling the urgency building within you, you guide his cock with precision, pressing it against your eager entrance. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you feel the head of his length dip into you only slightly, the anticipation of being filled with him heightening your senses.

"Please," you whisper, your voice laden with need and longing, a plea for him to take you.

With a teasing grin, Jongseong relents to your plea, but not in the way you expected. Instead of thrusting into you the way you want him to, he trails his fingertips along the curves of your body, igniting a trail of fire in his wake. His touch is light and tantalising, tracing patterns across your skin as he savours every moment. He wants to take his time with you, no matter how much his dick longs to be surrounded by your walls.

You like to be teased even for a little bit, the payoff at the end always hits the right spot.

You squirm beneath his touch, aching for more, but he continues with deliberate slowness. His fingers dance over your heated flesh, exploring every inch of your body with an intimacy that leaves you breathless. Each caress sends shivers down your spine, building the anticipation to unbearable heights. God, you missed his hands all over you.

As his right hand dips lower, he begins tracing circles around your sensitive clit and you can't help but arch your back in pleasure, a soft moan escaping your lips. The sensation is electrifying, sending waves coursing through your body as he expertly teases you.

Feeling your body tremble with anticipation, his touch becomes more urgent as he presses his fingers against your throbbing clit h and with practised skill, he begins to move faster, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you writhing beneath him.

“You look so fucking perfect, all desperate and whiney like this, Princess,” he says as he leans down to kiss you, breathing in deeply through his nose as he tries to fill each of his senses with you. It wasn’t just enough to feel you, he wanted to taste you, to inhale your scent, to hear you cry out for him, to see you unravel beneath him.

Your breath catches in your throat as the intensity of his touch sends you spiralling towards the edge of bliss. Each stroke of his fingers drives you closer to the brink, your body humming with the need to let go.

But just as you feel yourself teetering on the edge, Jongseong suddenly slows his movements, drawing out the pleasure with agonising slowness. It's a torturous tease, the brief moments of intensity followed by long, drawn-out strokes that leave you gasping for more.

“Please, please, please, Jjongie,” you whimper in frustration, your body aching for release as Jongseong continues to play you like a symphony, alternating between fast and slow, building the tension to unbearable levels. Just when you think you can't take it anymore, he finally gives in, his fingers dipping into your heat and thrusting into you at a rough pace, your pussy soaking his digits as he coaxes out your orgasm.

“You’re clamping down on my fingers so hard, Baby, you gonna cum?” he asks arrogantly, knowing that with each curl of his finger, he is watching your body lose control and surrender to him.

Nodding quickly, you pull him down for a long, searing kiss as his thumb joins the party and flicks your clit rapidly, “Oh my god,” you moan out into his mouth through bated breaths, “I’m gonna cum, Jongseong, please can I cum?”

“You never have to ask baby,” he moves his mouth to your ear and lightly nibbles your lobe, “Cum for me, Princess,” he gently commands.

Jongseong continues to work his magic, his fingers moving with expert precision as he guides you through the throes of ecstasy. Your vision blurs and every nerve in your body hums with pleasure as you reach the pinnacle of bliss.

With a final, desperate cry, you let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You arch your back and cry out his name as pleasure consumes you, your body trembling with the intensity of it all.

His fingers remain still inside you, but his thumb maintains its relentless pace, each swipe sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. Your hips instinctively twitch in response, your nub throbbing with sensitivity and yearning for a respite. Yet, Jongseong shows no signs of letting up, his determined flicking only intensifying.

"You like that, baby?" Jongseong's voice is hoarse with desire as he intently watches your reactions. His eyes are dark with need as he continues to work you with wild desire. 

Your senses are overwhelmed by sensations pouring through you, so you can only respond with a gasping nod. Every single nerve in your body is buzzing with ecstasy, and all you can think of is the delicious agony of his thumb against your delicate clit.

"Tell me what you want, Princess," he asks, his voice a seductive whisper in your ear, "Do you want more?"

You can only make a frantic plea, your words barely comprehensible in the middle of intense pleasure. "Yes, please, Jongseong... More..."

Jongseong's lips curl into a wicked grin as he hears your plea, his confidence growing with each breathless gasp that escapes your lips. With a teasing twinkle in his eye, he moves his fingers again, pressing them against your contracting walls, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he speaks.

"What do you want, Y/N?" he whispers, his voice dripping with anticipation, "Tell me, and I'll give it to you."

Your mind is a haze of desire, but amidst the fog, one thought stands out clear and demanding. You need him inside you, filling you completely with his presence. With trembling hands, you reach for him, your fingers curling around his cock, guiding him to where you need him most, pushing his hand out of the way.

"I want you," you whisper, your voice trembling with need. "I want all of you, Jongseong." When you utter the words, there’s a deeper meaning to them, a meaning that Jongseong is clinging to.

The way your fingers wrap around his rock-hard member elicits a hiss from him, your touch mixed with your words only fuels him to give you everything you need. 

Jongseong lets out a guttural groan, entirely surrendering to your touch and words. His eyes darken with want as he watches you take control, and his breath quickens with anticipation as you guide him inside you. His breath coming in ragged gasps, he looks into your eyes with a mixture of desire and adoration, "God, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice rough with need, “You feel so fucking incredible. I’ve missed how you just suck me in like this.”

You look down and watch as his entire length gets lost in your heat, his cock’s head hitting deep within you. You’ve missed how he fills you up so much but you hadn’t realised just how badly until right now as he shallowly thrusts into you.

You respond with a low moan of pleasure, your nails digging into his skin as you pull him closer, urging him to go deeper. "Yes, Jongseong," you whisper, your voice laced with longing, "just like that. I need this so much, I need you."

With each thrust, he grunts in response, his movements becoming more desperate as he seeks to satisfy your every desire, "I'm yours, Y/N," he declares, his voice filled with raw emotion, "completely and utterly yours."

As he lifts your legs and closes them, gently draping them over his left shoulder, your warmth envelops his shaft, drawing him in closer. Jongseong relishes the sensation of your tightness, revelling in the snug embrace of your canal around him. And you too find delight in the pressure of his girth, relishing the way he stretches you further with every powerful thrust.

Each movement of his hips is deliberate, each one designed to bring you both closer to the edge of ecstasy. As his hands stroke your legs tenderly, contrasting with the intensity of his thrusts, you find yourself lost in the intoxicating rhythm of your bodies moving as one.

His jerks grow more intense, the pace quickening as he drives deeper into you, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge, "You feel so good," he groans, his voice filled with unrestrained passion, "so fucking perfect for me, Princess."

In response, you curve your back and meet his thrusts with equal conviction, the heat between you building to an almost euphoric level. "Jongseong," you exclaim, your voice a symphony of fulfilment, "don't stop, please don't stop."

Jongseong intensifies his efforts with a wild growl, each movement driven by a burning need to push you to the edge of satisfaction and beyond. At this moment, there is only you and him, burned by the fires of passion.

With a swift motion, your lover bends you in half, positioning your legs by your head as he quickens his already rapid pace. Lost in a whirlwind of desire, your eyes roll back and your hands instinctively grip his shoulders, your chest heaving with each forceful thrust of his cock. Your nails dig into his skin, leaving marks on his shoulder blades as you cling to him, lost in the intensity of the moment.

Feeling the sting of your nails, he grits his teeth and strains his neck, the veins in his temples pulsating as he fights the overwhelming urge to release inside you right then and there.

“Fuck, claw my back, Baby,” he growls, his voice thick with desire, “make me yours again.” With determination, he continues to pound into you, each movement bringing you closer to your shared orgasm.

After hearing Jongseong’s go-ahead, you dig into his back, dragging your nails across his skin, leaving fiery red lines in their wake, just like he wants. It burns him in the most delectable way, making his cock throb inside of you.

Your breaths combine in the air, creating an ensemble of desire as you both reach the edge. The tension between you grows with each thrust, a crescendo of want reaching its peak.

As he slams into you furiously, his voice fills the room with urgency, "You gonna cum again, Princess? You want it?" His words are a mixture of want and domination, starting a fire inside you that threatens to consume everything in its path.

With a firm nod, you meet his gaze, your eyes brimming with want. "Yes, Jongseong, please," you beg, your voice a frantic appeal for release once again.

In response, he increases his efforts, his motions growing more frenzied as he propels you both to your orgasms. And then, with a final, strong thrust, you shatter, your body convulsing from the ferocity of your release. Jongseong follows closely behind, his own climax mirroring yours as he finds release within you, “Fuck!” 

His body stills as he shoots his seed into you, the tremble of both your bodies vibrates the bed beneath you. Finding it hard to keep himself up, he falls onto you, moving his cock into you further, only drawing out a final moan from your lips.

After a couple of minutes, Jongseong rolls over, his chest heaving up and down rapidly. God, he missed the way you feel under him, he could go another ten rounds if you asked. 

But that would mean you would stay, and is that even something you want? He doesn’t want to ask, your answer being the deciding factor of whether he goes on his life with misery or happiness.

He knows he can’t force you into this relationship but he hopes he has done enough to convince you that you are all he wants.

“Please be with me again, Y/N. I can’t live without you,” he whispers into the air, not daring to look at you.

You on the other hand only want to look at him, to see if you can really try this again, “Even if it means no kids? No playdates with other parents? No family trips to Jeju?”

“Even without all that.” He does look sincere, his eyes now burning into yours with a new lease of determination.

The truth is, you’ve missed him so much that it hurts. Behind the strong facade is just a girl who misses her lover. Being without him is like being in a fire with no escape, constantly fighting your way out of a blaze while your lungs collapse. He’s the clear path to fresh air you desperately need, there is no denying it. And clearly, he thinks the same about you. 

Seeing him last night so fragile and broken engulfed you in the flames, burning you alive because you know that you feel every ounce of hurt that he is. It was a mirror to how you were feeling and you don’t think you knew how badly you needed him until that moment. You were trying to be so strong about it all, giving yourself only a short amount of time to grieve that as you looked at Jongseong last night, you know he has done the same.

You need one another to extinguish the fire.

“Jongseong, truly think about this, this isn’t me saying no to letting you go on a lads holiday, I’m denying you the opportunity to be a father,” you plead with him one last time, giving him an out to all of this as you lay it all on the table.

“Princess, I have had seven months to think about it. I am not compromising or altering my needs for you, this is a decision that I have made on my own. If I truly wanted the life I thought I did, I wouldn’t be begging you to be with me right now. I know this isn’t an easy choice but I have never been more sure about anything in my life.” 

Jongseong kisses all over your face, each one a receipt of his sincerity.

His words strike straight into your heart. He’s serious. A part of you wants to still feel guilty like you’re forcing him into this but on the other hand, he’s right. You’ve given him a multitude of opportunities to leave and find a girl who will cater to him, but he hasn’t. 

He doesn’t need to because all he needs is you and your love, to Jongseong, that is all he needs in his life.

“Okay, but if you ever change your min-”

He interjects with a kiss, one filled with so much happiness and love that it’s almost intoxicating; either that or all the booze in his system has transferred its way into your bloodstream. 

You giggle as he rolls over on top of you again, peppering loud and wet kisses all over your face and neck akin to a dog licking you from utter joy. Your hands try to fight him off playfully, your laugh growing louder as he nuzzles into your neck.

“Oh, wait!” Your lover's sudden pause catches your attention, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he swiftly rolls off the bed and rushes over to the messy pile on the chair by his dresser.

Curious, you crane your neck to see what he's up to, watching as he retrieves something from the floor.

“What is it?” you inquire, intrigued by his enthusiasm.

Turning back to you, Jongseong holds up the familiar torn sheet of paper that you recognise instantly, his smile lighting up his face. He grabs a pen from the desk and returns to your side, handing you both items.

“Tick it off,” he urges, pointing to the bottom of the page where a new addition was made yesterday morning. Despite his internal conflict about the list, he couldn't bring himself to tear it up. If he never saw you again, this would be a precious memory to hold onto.

So he added a new aspiration at the bottom.

Taking the pen from his hand, you read it slowly, “Make Y/N mine again..”

You gaze up at him in awe, understanding the significance of this gesture and how much the list means to him, “You wished for this?” you ask, to which he simply nods at your question, “Then you need to tick it off.” You push the pen and paper back to him but he stops you.

“No, you made the wish come true, so you need to tick it off,” he replies, the corners of his lips upturning slightly.

So, with the pen, you draw a line over the words, scoring it off once and for all as you beam proudly, happy that both of your souls are now joined together again. You pull him in for a long, deep kiss, the bucket list discarded as you lose yourselves in the moment once again.

“Happy birthday, Jjongie,” you say, even if you are a day late.

[pearlispunk]

Never took you for a pervert, Miller.

pairing: dbf! joel miller x female reader summary: you borrow a jacket from joel, and it returns to him with a stain. he goes crazy over your scent, and he wants more. warnings / contents: 18+ (minors please dni!), big unspecified (but legal!) age gap, brief mentions of alcohol, smut, f masturbation, dbf! joel, perv! joel, dom! joel, spanking, choking, dd/lg dynamic (kinda), daddy kink, praise kink, light dacryphilia, pet names, unprotected piv (wrap it before you tap it please!), creampie, no outbreak, no sarah word count: 4k a/n: i recommend listening to every girl gets her wish by saint avengeline while reading this! it really sets up the whole vibe >< enjoy °༄ !

It all started with that damn jacket. 

“It’s so cold, Joel. Please.” You whined, skin shuddering from the breeze. “Told you to bring a coat or somethin’, y’never listen.” He huffs, shedding off the outermost layer of his clothes. He holds it over you, eyebrows raised combined with pursed lips. 

You smile at him, quickly grabbing hold of the jacket and putting it on. You waste no time, zipping up the front of the jacket and tugging the ends of it to try and fit your body. It felt huge wrapped around you– it extended past your torso, and you had to tug the sleeves up just to use your hands. 

You looked so cute like this, he thinks for a moment, staring at you blankly. His eyes raked over you, eyeing you from head to toe. “Anyone ever tell you it’s bad manners if you stare?” Your voice chimes in like a chirp of a bird, and he’s back to reality. 

He shakes his head, walking past you, “Shut up.” He mutters. And you smile. 

You were fully aware of what effect you had on him. Ever since moving across his house a few months back, you’ve made it your life’s mission to make him fuck you. 

It didn’t take long for him and your dad to form a friendship over football and beer. However, ever since meeting Joel, he was always just this stuck-up, grumpy– presumably lonely– middle-aged man to you. You were just determined to help him, what’s wrong with that? Every time your dad invited him over for dinners or outings, you made sure you wore something that caught his eye. 

Even if that means wearing something skimpy during a cold weather. 

“I’ll wash this up for you and bring it back tomorrow morning, promise!” You say, looking at him with a glint of mischief in your eyes. He nods, shaking his hand in the air, “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

Is it wrong that he turns you on?

Is it wrong that you’re thinking about getting stuffed full of his dick? Of his cum? 

“Come on, girl.” He calls out to you, and you follow. 

For the evening, your dad had invited him to an outing. A fancy word your dad uses for just ordering take-out and eating it in the truck by the woods. They talked for a while, with pauses and laughs in between. 

“.. Anyway, I have to drive back to our old place tomorrow.” Your dad says, biting down on his food. You nod before tilting your head, “Why?” He finishes his food before wrapping the packaging and throwing it in a piece of plastic, “Forgot some of my boxes, kid.” He shrugs casually then turns to Joel, “Keep an eye on her, would ‘ya?”

When you get back home, you rush up to your room. You sigh in relief, welcoming the warm air while taking off his jacket. You lay down on your bed, holding the jacket close to you and taking a deep breath of his scent. It was so distinct, so unique, so.. him. Your fingers trace over the fabric, a mental image of him appearing in your head. Your breath hitches in your throat, and your other hand hooks your panties down. 

You take a pillow, placing the jacket above it. You straddle over it, forcing the pillow between your thighs. You lean down, burying your face in the jacket as you start grinding on it. Your pussy rubs over the cloth of his jacket, and you can’t help but whimper at just the thought of that. 

You were like a woman possessed, chasing your own high as you kept his jacket close. It didn’t take long– his scent drives you mad, almost crazy, and just a few moments later, you let yourself unravel.  Sweaty and tired, you collapsed on top of the jacket, coating it with your sweat and essence.

You woke up in a panic, your dad’s knocking alarming you. You sit up straight, tossing the jacket to the side and yanking your blanket over your legs. “Yeah, dad?” You clear your own throat, stretching out your limbs. “Joel’s here, and I’m going.” He says from the outside of the door. “Alright, drive safe!” You call out. 

You make out the thuds of his boots down the stairs. You then eventually hear the engine of his car. You look out your window, waving your hand as your dad honks the car before driving off completely. 

You get up, picking a pair of shorts from your drawer and putting them on. You grab the jacket from the side of your room, sighing to yourself before stepping out. You walk downstairs to the smell of a fresh coffee pot and some pancakes. 

“Figured you could eat somethin’.” Joel’s voice grounds you, his back facing you as he finishes cooking the last pancake. “Coffee’s there, if ‘ya want.” He points towards his right, the tone of his back muscles visible through his shirt. You nod, setting the jacket on one of the table chairs. You help yourself to a cup of coffee, taking a sip before sitting by the table. He turns around to face you before slipping the plate of pancakes in front of you. 

“I have to head out to the hardware store, d’ya wanna come?” He asks, sitting on the chair across from you. You nod, taking a fork and getting a bite out of one of the pancakes, “Mhm. Should let me change though.” Your voice is muffled, you haven’t finished the bite. “Now, sweetheart, I believe it’s bad manners to talk with your mouth full.” He grins at you, a smug look spreading across his face.

You roll your eyes, swallowing it before locking eyes with him. “Let me shower and change, Miller.” He chuckles, nodding as he takes a bite of a pancake. You finish your cup of coffee along with the pancake with a satisfied hum before standing up. 

Oh! You almost forgot his jacket. 

You reach over to the hunched cloth on the chair, grabbing it and sliding it in front of him. You’re off to the shower now, your footsteps echoing throughout the hallway.

He swears you’re trying to fuck him over. 

After your little banter, you slip him his jacket and you’re off on your feet. He shakes his head with a smile before his eyes glaze over his jacket.

Just as he was going to turn his gaze away, something caught his eye. A stain. A dried-up stain that left a darker patch on the hem of his jacket. It couldn’t be water, it would’ve dried up normally. He’s familiar with it. After fucking around with multiple women in a variety of compromising situations, he’s all too familiar with what it was. 

Dirty. Fucking. Girl. 

He takes a deep breath, the confines of his shorts tightening around his hardening erection. He looks down at it, shaking his head. 

This is fucked. He thinks, his hand going down to palm his cock through his shorts. He grabs the jacket, bringing the stain close to his nose to get a whiff of it. 

Fuck. You smelled amazing. Something sweet, something fresh. By now he’s rubbing his cock with his hand, hips bucking up into nothing. 

“Joel! Mind handing me a towel?” 

Your voice cuts through his heated session. A grunt caught in his throat, shaking his head and trying to shrug it off by clearing his throat. “Yeah, erm,” He lets go of the jacket, “Where?” He stands up quickly. “Should be one by my room.” You hum from the shower.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters to himself, dragging his feet up the stairs and towards your room. He creaks open the door, scanning the room for your towel. He sighs, walking in and looking at every corner. Your scent is everywhere, making his head spin and cock harder. 

He finds your towel hooked on the back of your door, and relief washes over him. He grabs it hastily, pulling a top you discarded days ago with it. It drops down to his boots, and he stares at it. A white lacy tank top, one you wear at home only. He takes a deep breath, every fiber of his being screaming no. 

This isn't right, he's too old for you.

He was just going to put it back where it came from. What’s the harm in that? He was just going to put it back nicely, as if this never happened. He scoops it up, the soft feel of the fabric a contrast to his rugged hands. Then it hits him. Your scent. He can smell it all over the top. Didn’t even need to bring it close to his nose to be able to get a whiff of it.

He folds it neatly before tucking it in his pants. 

Oh, he was going to hell for this.

It took you days to notice that some pieces of your clothing went missing. First were the tank tops you wore at home, you always tucked them away by the first drawer of your cabinet. Second were the laced bras you bought from a city a long time ago, you mostly just use it when you’re out. Then finally, your favorite white lace thong. 

Joel started to come over more frequently, always by the front door with a pack of beer. Your dad was more than happy to let him in. It was strange, some pieces of your clothing came back during the days Joel was over. You thought nothing of it. 

Not until you saw him sneaking about the door of your room. He had just excused himself to go the the bathroom, a routine you picked up on ever since he came over more. It was like a tick in your brain– you just needed to know what he was truly doing in there. 

Instead, you catch him by your room, thong in hand, nose-deep, and cock hard. You were by the lower part of the stairs, enough to get a good view of what he was doing. Your eyes widen in shock, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips. 

You had him hooked.

Joel knew how fucked up it was. He was inviting your dad for drinks and a good time, only for his main objective to be to sneak into your room and snatch a few pieces of your garments. All for what? Jerking himself off late at night, when all of his pillows are covered in your scent, when all he can think about is the way your hips move, the way your tits bounce. 

He knew how fucked up it was, cumming on your garments, moaning your name, and imagining how sweet your pussy would feel wrapped around his cock. He knew how fucked up he was. 

But it was better than actually touching you, than actually crossing the line and fucking his friend’s daughter. He kept a safe distance, he kept boundaries, and he made sure he never stepped the line. So, surely, this was better, right? He’d slip into your room, grab a bra, a thong, or a top, and he’d be satisfied. And that was enough. 

It had to. 

But goddamn you were making it hard. You were making him really hard. 

You knew how to push his buttons, knew how to drive him to his limits. Every outfit you put on for him just got more and more enticing. And for tonight, his eyes are now shamelessly scanning every curve and dip of your body. 

The hour was late, your dad had excused himself to his room– his head was hurting. It was only you and him now, sitting on the couch, in front of the television. The past few moments were pure torture for him. Every skin-on-skin contact with you made him go crazy, and every time you walked past him, he could just inhale your scent.

He has one of the couch pillows set over his thighs, a weak attempt to cover up the hard-on he earned just by looking at you. Your eyes were glued to the screen, a knowing smile displaying itself on your lips. 

20 minutes pass, and so far, he wouldn’t budge off the couch or even get a new bottle of beer. “Would you like a new one?” You turn your head towards his direction. He hums, nodding, “Mhm, sure.” You walk over to the table, grabbing a new bottle of beer before walking back to him. You bend over a bit, handing it out to him.

His eyes lock in on your chest, the soft flesh of your boob peeking out through your low-cut top. And for a moment, he stays like that, mind completely distracted by the view in front of him. “Joel?” You ask innocently, beer bottle still in hand. He clears his throat, nodding his head before taking it out of your hand. 

He quickly takes a sip, trying to focus on what shows the television is playing. You smile to yourself, taking a seat beside him. You have a finger over your mouth– you feel the tension, and you scooch closer to him. “What’re ‘ya doin’, kid?” He asks, his voice low, eyes never leaving the screen. “It’s cold.” You shrug. 

He turns his back on you, his body facing the other way. Your eyes graze down on his back, admiring the way his muscles bulge through his shirt. Then, you catch a glimpse of your thong in his back pocket.

That was it.

“You know, it’s weird..” You start, looking at him. He looks over at you with his eyebrows raised, “Hm? What is?” You hook your finger on it, pulling it towards you in one swift motion. You dangle it in front of him, a smug look on your face. 

“Never took you for a pervert, Miller.” 

He looks at you, eyes wide with shock as his grip on the pillow tightens. “M’kay- fuck, I can explain–” He starts, standing up and letting the pillow fall to the ground. Your eyes lock with his boner, a smile forming on your lips. “Yeah?” You tilt your head to the direction of his boner. 

His eyes look down for a second, assessing himself. He sighs, running a hand over his face. “Been sneaking around and stealing my things when you could’ve just asked nicely.” You tut, standing up on your feet. “I know you want to fuck me, Joel.” You take a step closer to him. He looks at you, unsaid thoughts crossing over his eyes. He sighs before shaking his head. 

“Not here.” Is all he says before picking you up and placing you over his shoulder. You giggle quietly,  feet dangling in the air as he makes his way to your room. He fumbles with the door knob before clicking it open and setting you down on the bed. He locks the door behind him, turning around to face you properly.

You’re on your knees, fingers hiking up and glazing over your thighs. He eyes your movements, shaking his head. He walks closer to you until all you can see in front of you is just his tall frame. He grabs your chin, forcibly tilting your head to make you look at him. You don’t utter a word, your eyes scanning the entirety of his face. 

“Makin’ it so fuckin’ hard to control myself around you, angel.” He rubs his thumb by your bottom lip. You poke your tongue out, eventually taking his thumb in your mouth. “Just so happens you don’t have enough clothes to cover yourself with when ‘m around, is that it?” He looks at you with a dark gaze, his other hand reaching to unbuckle his belt. You nod, the sides of your lips curling into a smile. 

He takes his thumb out, tossing his belt to the side. He sits down on the edge of the bed before unbuttoning his pants. 

“Bend.” 

His voice drops an octave lower, his hand gesturing to his lap. You’re dumbfounded, lips parted with shock. “What are ‘ya, deaf?” He glares at you. You shake your head and do as you’re told, bending over his lap. He yanks your cotton shorts down, the cold air hitting your bare ass. “No panties?” He asks, his hand groping and getting a feel of your ass. You shake your head, squirming under his touch. 

You flinched as the sharp sound echoed throughout your room, a sting following– hot and immediate. 

“Words, baby. Let me hear ‘ya.” His gruff voice cooed from above you, his hand soothing over your flesh. “Deliberately wearin’ nothin’, hm? Is this for me, angel?” His fingers rub against your pooling hole. “Y-Yes.” You shook out the word, your hands pressing against his thighs. 

Another slap. “Yes what?” Oh, he sounds pissed. 

“Yes d-daddy-!” You whimper, your knees pressing together. He leans down on you until his lips are just by your ear, “Now you’re gonna have t’be quiet if you want me to fuck ‘ya properly, understood?” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. You nod your head, a tear slipping out of your eye. “Aw, poor baby.” His thumb brushes over your cheek, wiping your tear away, “Does it hurt?” He hums. “N-No daddy, promise!” You say earnestly, trying your best to be good for him.  

“Count for me, sweet girl.” He orders, his tone leaving no room for protest. 

His hand landed on the flesh of your ass, sharp and unyielding.

“O-One.” Your voice trembled under the contact. 

“Wearin’ nothin’ but short skirts and cropped tops, tryin’ to kill me.”

The next landed with no hesitation, your cheeks retracting at the contact.

“Two!” You bite your lip, muffling your whimpers. 

“Intentionally wearin’ nothin’ underneath those pretty white bottoms.” 

The next was harder than the last, more painful– the impact of it spreading heat through your skin.

“Three..!” By now you were crying, your pretty pink cheeks glistening with tears. He pulls your body against his, letting you lean against him. His hands were brushing against your ass, a tender touch– a contrast to his earlier actions. “Did so good for me, angel.” He kisses your cheek, his arms wrapping around your waist, “Makin’ me so proud.” 

You straddle on his lap, taking one of his legs between your thighs. You start moving, eager for the friction. “What’s this? Pretty baby beggin’ to get fucked?” He coos against your ear, the palm of his hand on the back of your head. “Y-Yes please, please.. been so g-good for you..” You whine, moving your hips faster. His hands travel back to your waist, holding you in place before flipping you over and letting you lay on your back.

He pulls away, tugging his pants along with his boxers. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, long and girthy, twitching and begging to get buried inside of you. Your legs unconsciously spread open, your pussy all on display for him. He smiles at you, leaning over you before kissing your forehead. 

“Keep quiet. Think you can do that f’me, baby?” He whispers, his hands on the back of your knees. You nod, your pussy pulsing against the tip of his cock. He leans down, pressing your thighs to your chest as he pushes his cock deep into you. Your knees touch your shoulders, and your hands find their way to his. 

Your pussy is stuffed, and you lightly tap him as a signal for him to give you a few seconds to adjust to his size. “Little girl taking me in so well.” He breathes, his hips staying in place. You bite down on your bottom lip, trying your hardest not to make a sound. 

Just when you thought he was all in, his hips pressed further against you, driving the extra inches of his cock inside you. “D-Daddy..” You hiccup, tears flowing from your eyes as your legs tremble in pleasure. “I know baby, I know.” He kisses the tips of your eyes, nodding, “Don’t worry. I’ll stretch you out real good, angel.” He whispers by the side of your ear. “Have you beggin’ for more in no time, you want that, yeah?” He lets out a low moan, burying his cock deeper. You try to relax your body, nodding at his words.

His grip on your legs tightens, his hips rocking into you. A moan slips out of your mouth, and he’s quick to cover it with his hand. You look up at him, beads of sweat forming around his forehead, some of his hair sticking on his skin. He looks down at you, his eyes gazing at your chest– your hardened nipples moving against the fabric of your top. He removes his hands from the back of your knees, relocating them to grope on your tits. 

He grabs the fabric, tearing it into two impatiently. You gasp at the contact, his hips snapping rapidly as he grunts by your ear. Your tits bounce, and this only fuels him further, “You’re so beautiful, angel,” He praises, peppering kisses on your hands, “Always so good for me.” Your legs hook around his waist, his other hand making its way to your neck. He puts pressure on your airflow, your hands wrapping around his arm.

The obscene sound of your squelching pussy and his invading cock fills the room, and you start to feel light-headed. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back arching against his towering body. You clench around his cock, your legs pulling him closer to you. “Need me buried deep in your pussy, yeah, angel?” He smirks, his other hand teasing your nipples. Your pussy pulses with his words, your head nodding frantically. “M-Mhm- mmfh..” 

“You needed this so badly, huh?” He asks, his fingers glazing over your clit. You buck your hips up, desperate for his touch. “So pretty for me.” He rubs your clit with a soft and teasing touch. “M-More.. pleasepleaseplease– hngh–” You gasp, “So close, daddy!” He nods, adding more pressure to your clit. 

He looked so perfect right between your thighs, his large frame towering over yours, his hands exploring your body. His hips staggered, “This pussy is mine, understand me?” He lets go of your neck, hands pushing the back of your thighs to your chest. You nod, biting your lip while tears threaten to spill from your eyes. “D-Da- haaah– yours, all y-yours..!” He speeds up the pace, his fingers working their way on your clit. 

Your hands fall to your sides, your mind solely focusing on your release. “Just needed t’be fucked stupid.” He whispers, pulling his cock out before slamming it back in. Your back arches, and you’re met with your release. His hands land on your hips, pulling you towards him as he thrusts his cock into you one last time. 

He holds you still, his hands kneading on your hips as he leans over you. You feel his cum seep into you, steady ropes of it shooting inside you. He keeps still, making sure that you got every last drop. You feel breathless, your hands finding their way to his chest. 

He brings one of your hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on your fingertips. “So good for me, sweetheart.” He pulls out, collapsing by your side. He snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

He scans your face, his hand cupping your face. He rubs his thumb over your cheek, leaning closer to kiss it. He was so tender, so sweet with you– like you were the most precious thing to him. His hand rests over the back of your head, cradling you to his chest. You sigh contently, your eyes fluttering as your breathing steadies itself. 

He kisses the top of your head, muttering sweet nothings and praises as you drift off to sleep in his arms.

Every girl gets her wish. 

white lace divider by @chilumitos , cupid divider by @ioveartfilm ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ !

a/n: my second work! tried to do something new DOMJOELAHA, please feel free to correct me about any mistakes i made! i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! reblogs, comments, likes, or any kind of interactions are deeply appreciated!! xo, pearl!

tags ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ @pedrostories @syd-djarin @knockk0ut @joelscowgirl @rav3n-pascal22 @joelsdagger @joelmillerpascal @joelmillerihardlyknowher @tokkiwrites @taeslarityy @tcmmysheiby @magpiepills @joelsrose @slowdivinqs @mssalo @il0ve-urm0m @ladybirdswritings @fuckyeahdindjarin @joeloverture @wannab-urs @amyispxnk @yxtkiwiyxt @littlcdarlin @joelscurls @goldenispunk @coquettepascal @hellishjoel @joelslastofus @punkshort @iamasaddie @almostempty @gutsby @arcanefox207 @sanarsi @pedrohub @katiexpunk @lover-of-books-and-tea @joyceyayo @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @anenay @ashleyfilm @inept-the-magnificent @skullieispunk @iknowisoundcrazyreads @callsignmedusa @pixelspunk @puduvallee

[enderlovez]

A Little Timid

Spencer Reid x Shy Female Reader WORD COUNT: 1100+

Summary: You bring Spencer something for dinner during a particularly stressful case. One thing, though—nobody else knows you exist.

Content Warning: Spencer is overworking himself and forgetting to eat, reader has a sister and a niece/nephew (not specified), pet names

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

You and Spencer have been dating for nearly three years, and throughout that time he's visited your workplace more times than you can count. Usually to spend your lunch breaks with you, sometimes just so he can sit and be in your company as you work.

Which your boss is completely fine with, for some reason unknown to you.

Oftentimes you find yourself wishing you could do the same for him, on the nights where he doesn't come home until stupidly late, but every time you bring up maybe bringing him lunch on your days off, he shoots you down entirely. Like a bird out of the sky, or some other stupid simile you can't be bothered trying to come up with.

It's quite different for him, being a federal agent and such, working with sensitive subjects and often in harsh environments, so you suppose it does make sense that he would want to keep you away from all that. Still, you can't help but feel a little hurt and slightly embarrassed every time he denies your requests.

And yet...

"You sound tired," you comment softly, stirring the pot of chicken soup in front of you.

"Mhm."

"Have you eaten anything yet?"

There's no response, which is answer enough for you.

"Lovey, you need to eat," you say with a sigh, putting down the spoon you were stirring with and lean back against the counter beside the stove.

"I know," he mumbles quietly.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes turned down to the ground. "I'm making chicken soup, I could bring you some for dinner, if you'd like?" you suggest weakly. "And some of the bread I finished making earlier. You know, I could sit with you for a while."

Before he's even responded, you're bracing yourself for rejection.

"That would be nice," he sighs.

Immediately, the tension in your body melts away, a tiny smile making its way onto your face.

"You want me to bring one of those cinnamon rolls you like, too?"

"Yes please..." His voice is so quiet, you're sure he's practically falling asleep at his desk.

"Okay, I'll be there in ten minutes."

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Spencer doesn't really think about much when he hangs up the phone. Only that he's really hungry right now, and that he really likes your chicken soup.

The fact that his coworkers don't even know you exist doesn't cross his mind once. Only when you're actually walking into the bullpen, does he realize he should've given them a bit of a heads up, because everyone is looking at you now.

No horrible looks, of course, they're only curious of who you are and why you're here, but you've never particularly liked people looking at you. It makes you feel all anxious and jittery.

Your eyes quickly scan the room (definitely taking note of all the people watching you) and when you finally find your target, a small smile makes it onto your face, despite the discomfort.

He pulls another chair over to his desk as you make your way over, walking just a little faster usual, and place one of those reusable supermarket bags in front of him.

"Hey there," you murmur, bringing his hand to your face so you can press a soft kiss to the back of it. This time, he doesn't even mention how many stupid pathogens can be passed through your hands.

"Beautiful girl," is all he says, quiet and uncharacteristically drowsy, as he reaches into the bag and pulls everything out. Two perfectly warm thermoses, a brown paper bag with some of your fresh bread inside, and two saran-wrapped cinnamon rolls that you've already heated.

You chuckle softly, taking your share of the food and offering him a hunk of warm bread.

Spencer bites off a chunk of the bread and really takes a look at you, now that you're distracted with your own soup. You're wearing a baby pink milkmaid dress, the same one you wore to your sisters baby shower last year, and a white cardigan with little flowers embroidered all over it.

He gifted you the plain cardigan, you were the one who added all the flowers and personal touches.

"I really appreciate this," he hums, finally opening the thermos of soup and spooning some of it into his mouth with one of the metal utensils you brought with you.

"I'm always happy to bring you food when you need it, lovey. Even when you don't necessarily need it, I'll come running," you say in a low voice, sipping your own soup straight from the thermos. "I wish you'd let me do it more. Even when you're not starving and sleep deprived."

He chuckles at the playful lilt in your voice, but knows you're actually being completely serious. "Maybe we can make this a more regular. On the nights I can't be at home—"

"And who might this be?" someone asks, appearing suddenly enough for you to jump a little.

You turn your head the smallest fraction to find another man leaning against Spencer's desk, a (seemingly permanent) smirk breaking through the tired, clouded expression everyone here is sporting.

"Uhm—hi—erm..."

You glance over at Spencer, who is, for the most part, paying no attention to the encounter, simply sipping on his soup and gnawing on his bread like he hasn't eaten in weeks.

"I'm Y/N," you manage, in a voice soft enough to bring serial killers to their knees (now there's an idea), wiping your hands on the fabric covering your thighs and sticking one of them out.

The man hums, eyes flicking between yourself and the man seated beside you. "I don't think Spencer's ever mentioned you before."

Your smile falters slightly, but doesn't disappear completely. "I'm his girlfriend," you say, "and I never really expected him to talk about me here. He said he wouldn't, anyway."

"Girlfriend?" he asks, as if it's the craziest thing he's ever heard. "You. Are Spencer's girlfriend? Spencer has a girlfriend?"

That seems to grab the aforementioned mans attention.

"Morgan. Is it really so hard to comprehend," he asks, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close—as close as he can, with the chairs in the way, "that I could find a beautiful woman to love me?"

Ah. Derek Morgan, that explains it.

"You know that's not what I mean," Morgan argues, the smile not leaving his face. "And now, if you don't mind, I'll be around. Telling everyone. That you've got a gorgeous girlfriend, and kept it from us."

Neither of you have a chance to argue before he's gone. You're honestly surprised he didn't ask exactly how long it's been, but you're sure he wouldn't have liked the answer, so you don't push it.

"...this is great soup, by the way. I love you."

You chuckle, red coloring your face. "Thanks. I love you, too, baby."

[hoshigray]

possessive tojikuna 😈🫦

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna + Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (m! receiving) - face-fucking- double penetration (2 dick kuna, lawl) - doggy style position - clitoral play (licking + pinching) - biting - unprotected sex - pet names (baby, good girl, little bird, princess, wife, woman) - slight degradation - highly possessive behavior - heavy depictions of a blowjob - mention of drool/spit.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k

You knew something was up. You could tell from the sudden chill in the air as you strode back to the palace grounds and walked down the hall to your shared room at dusk.

The palace was shrouded in an eerie silence, the darkness broken only by the flickering light of the candles that guided your path. The servants, usually bustling with activity, now worked silently, their eyes averted. Even Uraume was unusually quiet as they led you to your room, where your husbands awaited you.

They dismiss themselves once you reach the door, leaving you alone in the hall before the shoji panel door. Breathing silently and slowly through your nostrils, a hesitant hand approaching the handle.

Only for the door to open independently and for you to be yanked by the wrist. You could not foretell what happened after this, yet now you know why the palace life had become unusually stifling.

“—Khhh, ahhhck..!! ‘Kunaa, f-for’ive m—Ahhh!”

“Silence, woman; don’t test me.”

You were stripped of your clothing, nude back to the soft futon, and your entire body dwarfed underneath the massive size of Sukuna. The cursed being has you under him as his lower left hand fingers your chasm, and the upper right arm chokes you by the throat. 

The restriction of your airways has you lightheaded, along with the motions of his thick fore and middle finger ravaging your vaginal texture. “Tahhh, ohGodsss…!”

“Hmph, what a whore,” he scoffs with a devilish grin, stuffing his fingers until the hilted knuckle. “So fucking tight on my fingers, you find enjoyment in being punished like this?”

“My King, please,” getting the words out is a battle. “I’m sho—Mmfff!…sho sorry—“

“Sorry for what?” The grip on your throat gets firmer, his thumb big enough to have your blood vessels pulsing for desperation. “For disobeying orders and leaving the fortress or having another man touch you?”

Ah, fuck! You knew this would bite you in the back once you stepped outside. Your husbands were busy with their daily tasks, leaving the fortress walls and instructing you to stay put where it’s safe. However, a specific craving has been growing these past few days, a craving that can only be found in the busy streets of the countryside down south. And since your spouses were out of reach for the day, and Uraume was tending the palace and its subjects as usual, you didn’t want to burden anyone with your selfishness. So, you snuck out at dawn and treaded to the civil human territory on your own.

“Unbelievable,” he curls his digits, which scrape your walls, and your strained cries are taken. “Who told you to leave where you were supposed to be?” His voice is ominous, even in a hushed tone, as he brings his face closer to you. “Who told you that you could let others touch you?” 

“Kunaaa, please, forg’ve me,” the nickname doesn’t lessen the hold on your windpipe. “I was…just getting fruits from the town…And then I’d return—“

“You disobey me for some fruits?” Crimson eyes glint darkly. “And then have that cretin hold your hands—hold what’s mine?”

The pound of your head worsens by the seconds, and the mouth of his stomach chews on the flesh of your tummy. God, this is too much…! “…I–I’m so sorry, my King…I didn’t m–mean to offend you, but my body is only—ghhh—for my hus–bands!”

“Today said otherwise—“

“It was not intentional!” I can’t…breathe…Your cunt tenses from a graze to your upper wall, your eyes watering. “Please, my love, there’s no one else my heart belongs to…I swear on my blood.” 

Finally, he releases your throat from his death grip, yet you’re not given time to gather much air as his hand comes to your cheeks to snatch. Panting heavily as your eyes stay on his, whimpering as he removes his digits from your aching slit. 

The giant huffs with a smirk at the sight of your tears. “Well, I’m not the only one you should swear to, wife.”

Of course, he isn’t; there’s another man in the room witness to your comeuppance. Once Sukuna withdraws himself from your proximity, your trembling figure moves off your back and crawls to the next person who stands on his knees. And you greet him with licks and kisses to his abs. “Toji…” your hands roam to his waist.

“Hey, baby,” emerald eyes observe you. “Got y’rself into trouble today. Didn’t think I wouldn’t see you outside after bein’ told not to?”

“I’m sorry—Mmmm…” you sense Sukuna’s hands keep your ass in place, and the lower other fingers your asshole. Your breath hikes at the contact of the tip of both his cocks, teasing your holes. Something slaps on your cheek, and Toji snickers.

“If y’re really sorry,” the dark-haired man pushes the cockhead to your lips. “Suck this dick like I like it.”

The simultaneous push of Sukuna’s cocks takes your breath, and your mouth is stuck on an indefinite ‘o’ shape. Toji takes advantage and shoves the tip into your mouth. Moans are mumbled, holes puckering to the slow push and pull of the colossus’ hips. After a few seconds, you begin to bob your head and suck.

“Hmmm, bad girl,” Toji grabs for the back of your head. “So busy with y’r lil’ outing that you didn’t notice me see you, walkin’ in the crowd and talkin’ with the townspeople,” he holds his breath from the sight of you lapping your tongue around the glans, precum oozing to your tastebuds. “And then be too friendly with those farmers, laughin’ and talkin’ too close to ‘em.”

You suck on his glans and with a hum. “Mmahh, I wasn’t planning on staying for too long,” you kiss and suck on the skin of the underside of his shaft until you meet his balls. Your tongue swirls on his testes, “I was just being polite—Ahhh!”

“Way too polite,” Sukuna smacks your butt, spawning a mouth to his palm to chew on the flesh to erupt a cry. Another bite comes from his lower right on your waist. “Might as well have asked them to come over.”

“Right…Hnngh!” Toji loves how you guzzle on his testicle. “Is that what ya want, princess? Have some strangers come here and see how much of a slut you are for our dicks, huh?” He yanks you by the chin, your expression already enhancing to a daze. “Wanna let ‘em have a go with you?”

It’s hard to answer as Sukuna ruts increase in pace, toes curling at the rub of your inner walls. “Ghhahh, n-no…! I don’t want anyone else to—shiiit—t-touch me like you do!” Sounds of skin slapping against each other from behind have you twitching even harder. Sukuna places his upper right arm to place on your shoulder to bite on your shoulder, while the lower left slither to your clit for the tongue of his palm to lap and tease. 

“Fuuuck, pussy so tight,” the behemoth sighs deeply. “Feel so good, shit isn’t meant for anyone outside this room.” His hips dial to a sporadic rhythm, shivers crawling up his spine as you scream all cutely from his movement. “All mine,” He bends to speak behind your nape. “All fucking mine.”

“Yesss, ahaaaa,” you howl out with your face smooshed to Toji’s pelvis, your hands stimulating his erection. “I only belong to you, my loves, only you…” you take in Toji’s tip once more, whimpering as his length busy your mouth inch by inch.

“Good girl, good girl,” Toji praises you from above, the hand on your head keeping you glued to him while the other husband has his way with you. Soon enough, both his strong palms come to your face, and he essentially fucks your face like a toy, your jaw loosening to make the process easier. 

Sukuna grabs for your arms and pulls you back but doesn’t stop Toji from fucking your face till the hilt meets your lips, and his balls knock your chin. You’re nerves are heightened, stimulated by the onslaught of pleasure on both ends. Your cunt and anus spasming around the limbs pushing to and fro, and your mouth mumbling on the dick, hitting the back of your throat.

And it doesn’t take long for your climax to steer you off, your frame trembling uncontrollably as you jerk and quaver under the bow of these men. Toji and Sukuna find it amusing, the hand on your clit pinching the bud.

“Hmph, cumming on my cocks like crazy.” The salmon-headed one playfully smacks your ass as your entrances flutter from the aftershocks. “Apology accepted, little bird; consider this a warning until the next time you transgress.”

Toji removes his cock from your mouth, strings of blended saliva and come leave the messy opening. “Now, ya know, princess. C’mon, lemme have my turn.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ☆ dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[serpentandlily]

Birds of a Feather - Azriel x Reader

Birds of a Feather - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel had been your closest friend, made from the very same things as you—birds of a feather, as they say. But you were not the girl he chose to fall in love with. So all you could do was love your mate in the shadows until the day you died.  

Warnings: angst angst angst

A/n: Inspired by Birds of a Feather by Billie Eilish, but this is a more sad interpretation of the song. Hope you enjoy! (Epilogue HERE)

• ───────────────── •

I want you to stay

'Til I'm in the grave

'Til I rot away, dead and buried

'Til I'm in the casket you carry

• ───────────────── •

A flick of golden brown hair caught your eye as Elain tossed her head back with her lilting laughter. So soft. So beautiful. So charming. You could hardly blame Azriel for being so enraptured by her. To him, she was probably the answer to all his questions, all his insecurities and doubt. To have someone like Elain look at him like that…Well, it seemed like it had healed something in him.

Unfortunately for you, it had done the opposite. It had completely destroyed you. Torn your heart into pieces. Opened new wounds and old wounds. It had shined a light on every single insecurity you felt. Because you had been praying for the day that Azriel would look at you the way he looked at her. But that day had never come and it never would.

You hadn’t been good enough for him. Hadn’t been beautiful enough to catch his attention like Mor and Elain had. Hadn’t been sweet enough to serve as a beacon of light for him. Hadn’t been soft enough to bring him comfort. 

You slipped out of the back door. No one even noticed your disappearance, all too happy in this new little family they had created with all three of the Archeron sisters. 

Tears lined your eyes as you hugged yourself, slowly walking along the Sidra towards your apartment. You had been naive to think you’d ever have a love like Feyre and Rhys or Nesta and Cassian. Azriel had been right that night you’d overheard him in the High Lord’s office.

The Cauldron had gotten it wrong. It had gotten it all so wrong.

Azriel was your mate. He was supposed to love and cherish you. Not her. But he had never looked your way once—not like that. You’d been best friends since the dawn of time, since you had entered each other’s lives. But that was all the companionship he could give you.

On nights like this, you almost wished you had told him about the mating bond when it had snapped for you. But you had hoped and prayed that he would come to love you for you and not for the mating bond. So you never spoke a word of it to anyone and maybe that had been your mistake.  

But you didn’t want a love that only existed because of the mating bond. You wanted a love that felt real and deep—with the mating bond only serving as the cherry on top. You didn’t regret not telling him. But you did regret sticking around to watch him fall in love with another girl. 

It didn’t help that Elain was the opposite of you. She was all sunshine and flowers, soft warm bread and honey. You were a creature of the night. You were the moon and its shadows, cryptic and grim. It was why you thought you and Azriel got along so well. You were made of all the same things. But he had always hated that about himself so really, it shouldn’t have been so surprising that he would look for someone who embodied the opposite. 

It hurt though, it hurt so much. 

You were his equal. You lived in the shadows as much as he did. Your soul was made from the same essence as his. You were birds of a feather. You were companions. He was the only one who understood you completely and you were the only one who saw him and loved him as he was—darkness and all. 

You were supposed to stick together through it all.

But…he hadn’t chosen you. 

You finally made it back to your apartment and hung up your coat before collapsing on your bed and letting the sobs ricochet through the utter silence of your home. 

Alone once again. 

As you always would be.

• ───────────────── •

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know

I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone

Can't change the weather, might not be forever

But if it's forever, it's even better

• ───────────────── •

All you had wanted to do today was get lost in your book and forget about your own life for a few hours. That was what you had planned, why you were even in the private library at the River House. But of course, the Mother decided to spite you once again.

Azriel sat on the armchair across from you, fiddling with Truth-teller as he ranted about Rhysand for the millionth time. He was still upset about your High Lord telling him to stay away from Elain, even though he had completely ignored those orders anyways. As far as you knew, Rhys hadn’t brought it up again. 

Your jaw was clenched as he brought up Lucien, laminating on how much Elain didn’t want him or the mating bond between them. You blinked away the tears that threatened to come. It almost felt like he was talking about the mating bond between the two of you—the one he still had no idea existed. 

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your stomach tossing and turning. You were so in love with the male sitting before you, so in love with your best friend. And here you were, listening to him talk about another girl the way you wished he’d talk about you. 

You cleared your throat when silence finally overtook the library, your eyes darting to the fireplace that was lacking any light—cold and dusty—the same way you felt inside. 

“Don’t you think…” you started, not looking at Azriel, not sure you wanted to say the words lingering in your throat. 

“Do I think what?” Azriel raised an eyebrow at you. 

You looked away again. 

“I don’t know,” you hesitated before continuing, “Don’t you think that Rhys might actually have a point?” 

You were still focused on the fireplace as you awaited his response with a bated breath. It was the first time you’d addressed his interest in Elain without being positive. But you just had to poke at it once—just once to make sure you were right in keeping the mating bond from him. 

“Oh Gods,” Azriel groaned. “Not you, too.”

“I’m just asking,” you said in your defense. “What if…what if in ten years Elain decides she does actually want to give Lucien a shot? The mating bond—”

“Is godsdamn stupid, is what it is,” Azriel scoffed. “She doesn’t want Lucien, Y/n. She wants me. We want each other. Is that such a bad thing?”

“No, I’m not saying that,” you grimaced, “But what if you find your mate? Would you…would you stay with Elain?” 

“Of course I would,” Azriel answered without missing a beat, digging that dagger into your heart a little more. “I don’t have a mate and even if I did, I would only ever feel sorry for her. For being cursed and shackled to me. At least Elain is choosing me. She is choosing me, Y/n. Over her own mate. If that isn’t love, then what is?” 

“I don’t know, Az.” You swallowed harshly, your throat closing up the further this conversation went on. You wanted to scream and sew your mouth shut at the same time. “Is that what this is? Are you truly in love with her?” 

This was it. The question you had been avoiding for months. And his answer would solidify everything. It would either put the nail in the coffin between the two of you or it would lighten the weight on your shoulders for just a minute—give you a modicum of hope to hang onto. 

“I am,” Azriel snapped, surprising you with his sudden ire. He rose from his seat, his eyes narrowing at you. “What is wrong with you? I thought you cared about me. I thought you were my friend, Y/n, and you’re acting just like Rhysand.” 

You shot up from your seat, eyes wide. “No, Az, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way, I just—”

“No, I get it,” Azriel scoffed, cutting you off. His eyes were ice cold. He had never looked at you like that before. It made your heart pause. “You just want me to continue being miserable. Because that’s always been why the two of us got along so well. Both lonely and so unhappy and now that I’m finally not, you want to drag me back down. Maybe one day someone will love you the way me and Elain love each other. But just because no one does right now, does not mean I have to give up my happiness to keep being miserable with you.” 

Tears welled up in your eyes, your lower lip wobbling. All you wanted was Azriel to be happy. It was another reason why you hadn’t said anything about the mating bond. Because he was happy with Elain and you didn’t want to throw a wrench into that. You hadn’t meant anything by asking him those questions—only wanted a bit of closure for yourself. 

Well, you had gotten closure, all right. Azriel would never choose you. He was right. You were miserable and lonely and heartbroken. Why would he choose you? But you hadn’t expected him to be so harsh. A simple yes would’ve done the same. Tears slipped down your cheeks and the anger from Azriel’s eyes was washed away.

But you didn’t stick around to hear his half-assed apology. You couldn’t. Not when your heart was being ripped apart in your chest, not as bile was rising in your hoarse throat. You dropped your book down on the coffee table before fleeing from the room, ignoring his calls of your name as you left.

• ───────────────── •

But you're so full of shit, 

Tell me it's a bit, 

Say you don't see it, your mind's polluted

Say you wanna quit, don't be stupid

• ───────────────── •

Months went by, all meshing together. You had avoided Azriel since that day in the library. It hurt but being around him hurt even more. It was all you could do to protect your already broken heart. He didn’t reach out to you either, instead all of his attention went to Elain. 

Elain who had finally told Lucien she would never accept their bond. 

And so Azriel and her had finally proclaimed their love to the whole family. A family you felt yourself slipping away from bit by bit. No one even seemed to notice. After all, it had always been you and Azriel hiding away in the shadows—content to observe and love from the corners of the room. 

But now it was just you in that corner, all alone. 

You stopped going to family dinners, stopped hanging around the River House, stopped going to training with the Valkyries. You began to disappear from their lives day by day. You couldn’t bring yourself to stay. Not when your mate was in love with someone else—not as they all started new chapters in their lives and left you behind. 

You had overstayed your welcome. No longer Azriel’s closest friend and confidant. No longer Cassian’s sparring buddy. No longer an extra ear for Rhys to run court decisions by. No longer Mor’s dancing partner or Amren’s pupil to bully. 

You became a shadow of yourself. Sleepless nights led to a lack of energy and focus. Constant tears led to being voiceless. You couldn’t even resort to alcohol because it made the steely barrier you had put up to block out the mating bond come tumbling down, flooding you with all of Azriel’s feelings. Happiness, joy, lust, desire, satiation. 

It was just a reminder that you weren’t the one giving him those things. 

But you couldn’t disappear the way you wanted to. Not when a new war started with Koschei. Despite months of not being around, Rhysand still sent you a notice to come to a meeting to discuss strategy and to inform everyone of new developments. 

You wanted to ignore the summons but the thought of Azriel going into battle again without you around to watch his back nearly sent you spiraling. So you made your way to the River House, eyes on the floor the whole time as you stepped inside and hung up your coat. 

You were about to go up the stairs to get to Rhys’s office when a hand on your shoulder stopped you. You spun around and your breath caught in your throat as you came face to face with Azriel. You took a shaky step away from him, your hand coming up to grip at your chest. The mating bond you had been trying to ignore shoved its way through your defenses—bombarding you with Azriel’s emotions once again. 

His hazel eyes were filled with a bit of guilt and remorse. “Y/n, I was wondering if you were going to show up today. I…I’ve been wanting to talk to you but you haven’t been around much.”

Your mouth opened and closed, no words coming out. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. Azriel hesitated for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck before speaking, “I never got to apologize for the things I said to you. It's not an excuse, but Rhys had just laid into me again about Elain before I found you in the library and I took my anger out on you when you were just trying to be a good friend and I am truly sorry for what I said to you. I didn’t mean any of it.” 

“It’s okay,” you mumbled, looking away from him. His words had felt true that day. Besides, what he said to you might’ve been wrong but that didn’t take away from the fact that he was in love with someone else. Regardless of his apology, there was no way you could go back to being his friend. It hurt too much. 

Azriel seemed to be waiting for you to say anything else and his shoulders deflated a bit when he realized you weren’t going to. He gave you a weak smile before summoning something from his shadows. An envelope. He held it out for you to grab. You took it from him with a questioning look. 

“It’s an invitation,” Azriel explained. “Me and Elain are getting married. I wanted to deliver this to you in person. It would mean a lot to have you there, Y/n.” 

You stared at the envelope in your hand. 

Stared and stared and stared. 

Even throughout the whole meeting with the Inner Circle, all you could do was stare at that godsdamn envelope. Because inside of it was the last piece of your broken heart, smashed and weeping. Azriel was getting married…and not to you. To her. 

So when Rhys announced his plans of attack for Koschei and how he needed someone to act as bait for the Death God, you were the first to volunteer because you truly had nothing left to lose. 

• ───────────────── •

And I don't know what I'm crying for

I don't think I could love you more

Might not be long, but baby, I

Don't wanna say goodbye

• ───────────────── •

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit up front with the rest of us?” Feyre asked.

You looked up at her from your seat in the very back of the temple, shaking your head. You gave her a blank look. “No, it’s all right. I’m fine back here. You know I don’t like that attention of sitting near the High Lord and Lady.” 

Feyre gave you an understanding nod. “Okay, but you will sit with us at the reception. I’m not taking no for an answer.” 

You nodded to appease her, knowing you had no intentions of staying past the ceremony. You were only here for one reason—because Azriel had asked you to be here and you could never say no to him. So here you sat, your chest empty and your eyes sore from the tears you spilled last night. 

This wedding felt more like a funeral to you and in some ways, it was. You were saying goodbye to a future you could’ve had with your mate, giving up the final piece of yourself for his sake, and getting to watch him be happy and free, such a bittersweet feeling. All you had ever wished was that he could be happy with you but that was just a dream—that’s all it would ever be. 

Elain looked so beautiful in her wedding gown, as she always did. 

Azriel’s eyes lit up the moment she came through the doorway, striding down the aisle to him. He held out his hand for her, helping her up the steps to stand before him. They didn’t look away from each other for a single moment during the ceremony. He was so in love with her. So in love with her and not you…never you. 

The whole room was bursting with joy but not you. You were happy for him, of course. But you couldn’t help but feel that ache in your chest and everything that came with it. The hurt, the jealousy, the grief. 

Had he even really wanted you here or had it been a pity invite? It didn’t matter because he took no notice of anyone but Elain. So when the ceremony ended and everyone began to make their way to the reception, you slinked into the shadows and disappeared once again. 

• ───────────────── •

I'll love you 'til the day that I die

'Til the day that I die

'Til the light leaves my eyes

'Til the day that I die

• ───────────────── •

The battle was over. Koschei had been defeated. You had gone through with serving as the bait for this plan to work. It had cost so much to finally take him down. So many lives, so much power. And you. It had cost you everything. 

You were dying. Slowly.

But you knew this was the end for you.

Even if you could be saved, you didn’t want to be.

You wanted to let death embrace you in his cold arms.

You wanted to leave behind this life finally.

Everyone was still cheering and hugging with relief when you stumbled back into the war camp. You pressed a hand against the deep wound in your stomach, blood bubbling through the cracks in your fingers as you passed by everyone—no one taking notice of you or your severely injured state.

Not until you made it to the main tent where the rest of the Inner Circle had begun to celebrate the victory. 

It was Feyre who noticed you first, her gasp alerting the rest of them to your presence. But you were only looking at Azriel as you stumbled into the tent, barely making it past the threshold before you crumbled to the ground. You choked on the blood filling up your mouth, some of it trickling out of your lips. 

Azriel shouted your name, pushing Cassian out of his way to get to you. He knelt before you, eyes wide with panic as he grasped your shoulders. In the background, you could faintly hear Rhysand shouting for a healer but you knew it was too late for that. 

You weakly smiled up at Azriel. This is what you wanted. To just see him one last time. To let his face be the last thing you see before death came to take you. You reached a hand out, letting your fingertips brush against his jaw. 

It took you being gravely injured for the mating bond to finally snap in place for him. You knew the minute he realized. The mating bond hummed in your chest but its song was so quiet now…so, so quiet. 

It was slowly fraying as your life dimmed. 

“Mate,” Azriel choked out in a whisper, his hand resting on your cheek. His eyes were still full of panic. “You’re…You’re my mate.” 

You nodded, coughing again and more blood slipped out of your lips and down your chin. Azriel shouted frantically for a healer before focusing on you again, his eyes searching yours. “You knew?” 

You nodded again, your body sagging in his hold. He let out a panicked cry and pulled you into his lap. “How long? How long have you known?” 

“A while,” you managed to croak, your fingers raising to caress his jaw again. 

Azriel stared at you in horror as he shouted again for a healer. You could hear the pounding of feet and other panicked whispers but you tuned it all out. You just wanted to go peacefully. No screaming, no cries. Just you and Azriel for the last second of your life. 

“Why?” he cried out, wiping one of your tears away. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“You…were…happy,” you struggled to get out, your eyes closing with the effort. Azriel shook your body, tears filling up in his eyes.

“No, stay awake, Y/n, you have to stay awake,” Azriel pleaded with you. “The healer is almost here, okay. Just stay awake a little longer.” 

“I-It’s…okay,” you mumbled. “Want…want to go.” 

You coughed again, blood splatting your face. Azriel released a cry that nearly caused the ground to shake. “No, you can’t. You can’t go. You’re my mate, Y/n. You can’t do this to me!” 

“I’ll find…you…again,” you slurred out. “Maybe…maybe I’ll be…good enough….then.” 

You blinked once, your vision blurry but you could see Azriel’s beautiful face. Gods, he was so beautiful. He was screaming something but your hearing went along with your vision, slowly worsening until finally, your heart stopped beating in your chest. 

And with that, the pain was finally gone. 

• ───────────────── •

I knew you in another life

You had that same look in your eyes

I love you, don't act so surprised

• ───────────────── •

Epilogue

[komoboko]

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮

ft: kokushibo tsugikuni, douma, akaza soyama, sekido, karaku, urogi, aizetsu, nakime daki and gyutaro

Writing block got me and it was tragic

# kokushibo ! ☆

KOKUSHIBO who really likes to spar with you. Even after you start dating, he’s not really the one who knows the proper way of asking you on a date or just to spend time so he’ll spar with you. He enjoys training in general and being able to spend time with you at the same time makes it things so much better. You’ll end you understanding why he wants to spar so much eventually and end up asking to spend time with him to give him the proper courage.

# douma ! ☆

Since he can’t really feel emotions properly DOUMA really likes seeing yours. He asks everybody in his cult for every romantic thing couples do and tries every single one of them on you. He observes how your face moves and your reactions to everything intently and it pleases him seeing somebody can feel and do so many things at once. He believes it romantic knowing he caused it, and you just have to endure it every day all day.

# akaza ! ☆

AKAZA who just likes talking over tea. He’ll invite you over whether you’ve just seen him or you’ve been around him already he still snags to have his designated tea time. Akaza just likes sitting in scenic locations during the night and just talking with you. He doesn’t mind what just to spend time with you. It reminds him of his wife, not directly just the feeling. He isn’t sure why he’s just sure he feels very nice when he’s around you.

# sekido ! ☆

He complains way too much for his own good. To the point SEKIDO’S complaints turn into compliments. He doesn’t even realize it but on days where he’s complaining about everybody and your next on the list he just ends up complimenting you instead. He’ll throw this in “Why are you so pretty? It’s irritating how you distract me?” he wouldn’t even realize he said this. Don’t put it out to him if you want him to stay ‘calm.’ He means everything he says but he’ll never admit it.

# karaku ! ☆

KARAKU can get really annoying because he just likes to tease you. Every chance he gets to poke at you he’ll take it. He’s always trying to flirt with you whether he’s serious or just messing with you it doesn’t matter to him. He always means every sky word he says to you and he’ll make sure you know to. It always makes his day being able to spend time with you like this. Even if he’s getting on your nerves every time you see him around the corner.

# urogi! ☆

He brings you like a lot of gifts, weird ones sometimes to. Since UROGI is still half bird he ends up deriving some traits which includes some of their romantic behaviors. Anything he finds intriguing or fits you he’ll bring it to you as a gift. You end up having alot of random jewels and necklaces hanging around, other times he’ll bring you food. Not food you would eat though, more food he and all his bird friends you think he has would like it much better.

# aizetsu ! ☆

He really loves just spending time with you, as AIZETSU likes to take walks with you in the night. Just being able to do something peaceful and quiet with you around makes him feel much better about everything. It’s a breath of fresh air especially if Sekido has already made his ears fall of by lashing out again like normal. Be able to not being under a state of stress while embracing your presence is something he likes. He tries holding your hand but is only ever able to intertwine your pinkies if u don’t ever take the lead.

# nakime !

NAKIME simply just enjoys playing music for you. She just likes sitting by you and playing her biwa, as she tries to learn all the different songs you like and she’s very intent on mastering all of them. Nakime always ask you for any tips or critiques as she always takes any consideration you have for her and is very appreciated at your insight. It’s a very calming activity she enjoys but she’s always careful not to mess anything up in the infinity castle while playing.

# daki ! ☆

She wants to do her skincare with you when she gets the time. Due to DAKI being the courtesan skincare is very important to her, and she wants to make sure yours looks as good as her as well! Be prepared to be sat down with her for nearly two hours as she makes sure both yours and her skin is shining by the time she’s finished her routine on both of you. She thinks your presence there makes things more bearable for her and it pleases her when you stay around for much longer.

# gyutaro ! ☆

GYUTARO stares, like a lot. He can’t really help it he just ends up staring at you! He isn’t the best at expressing what he feels about you and ends up just staring at you to admire you. You catch him just gazing at you alot lost in thought and normally have to snap him out of it. Gyutaro appreciates your patience and putting up with him all the time, knowing he’s going to do it again in the near future. He really can’t help himself as in his eyes you truly are perfection to him. He just doesn’t know how to tell you.