#women who could hurt me and men that won’t!

[marvelouslizzie]

Same Lonely Night

summary: Your roommate Bucky Barnes hears you pleasure yourself and moan something he never thought he would be into. That forces him to face his feelings for you.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

word count: 2.6K

warnings: 18+, masturbation, fantasies, daddy kink, no mention of y/n

A/N: This is the second part of A Lonely Night. This time we are seeing Bucky's POV and what comes next. You don't have to read that part to understand what's going on but if you want to, you can find it on my blog/masterlist. I planned this as a 3-part story and I hope I'll maintain my inspiration and motivation to write the last part. Wish me luck!

Thank you so much @notafunkiller for beta-reading and editing. You are the best!

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Read more tag starts after the second paragraph of the story.

Bucky’s head is resting on the shower wall while the water is running down. His flesh hand is still wrapped around his cock, but he doesn’t move it. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he’s trying to calm himself down. 

He really had no intention to listen to you. He was just watching the news mindlessly, but his enhanced hearing turned into a curse the moment he heard you taking a sharp breath. He couldn’t help but focus on the noises you made. That’s when he started to hear the way you were touching yourself. Every stroke, every rub, every muffled moan… 

He knew what you were doing was private and he had no right listening to it, but he couldn’t stop. He just couldn’t. How could he? You were so needy and subby. Even in your fantasy, you were begging. He wondered what you were imagining. Who were you begging? Your crush? Maybe you have been seeing someone.

That thought had never occurred to him before. You were always in your element, working, chilling at home, doing whatever you enjoyed in your spare time, and occasionally going out with your friends. You never brought someone home. Not yet at least. So he never questioned if you were seeing someone or not. Even if there was someone, he wouldn’t know, and that thought suddenly hurts him.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” Your moans bring him back to reality. If you are seeing someone why are you so needy? Are you just that greedy or has it been that long? He’s certainly hoping for the latter. That’s something he can relate to, and it's probably been much longer for him. That’s why he can’t stop listening. That’s why his cock is painfully hard. Normally he would just remove himself from the house, and give you some space instead of creeping like this.

“Oh please, fuck me.” He would do anything to be able to do that. Anything. Just to be in that room with you, taking his time exploring your body and satisfying your needs. Even just the thought of it drives him crazy. “Fuck me, daddy, please.” 

That surprises him on so many levels. He never thought you would be into that. You look pretty innocent. He wouldn’t assume you would have such dirty fantasies. Fucking an old man… Are you into older men or is it just a little fantasy you are playing? Maybe you are seeing someone old. Maybe that’s why your mind goes there. He doesn’t know. He has no idea what’s going on in your private life, and every word that comes out of your mouth confuses him even more. It creates more problems, but the biggest one is, when he heard daddy, his dick twitched with excitement. So it makes him question himself, too. Is he into younger women or is it because you were the one saying it? The latter somehow seems more likely. Yet all of that doesn’t change the fact that he’s listening to you and getting hard just because of it. 

“Yes, yes, yes. Right there.” He hears how your head falls onto the pillow while your whole body is shaking, and how much you are enjoying it. He knows this is his cue. He should just remove himself from the living room so he won’t get caught with a hard-on. He doesn’t miss a beat. Quickly, he turns the TV off and runs to the bathroom. 

That’s how he ended up here, head pressed against the cold shower tiles, thinking about the way you said daddy over and over again. He is trying really hard not to give in, but his cock is aching with need. A part of him thinks he should just give in. It’s not such a big deal. Everyone masturbates. You just did. Three fucking times! That thought makes him groan. If you can come three times just by masturbating,how many times could he make you come? 

So it’s not even a conscious decision when he starts to stroke himself when he starts thinking about making you come. He can’t stop himself from imagining how you would look under him or on top of him. It doesn’t matter which position. He just wants to feel you. Your moans are echoing in his head while he caresses the top of cock. Just one stroke and it makes him tremble. He can’t remember the last time he felt this turned on. He can’t remember the last time his whole body heated up like this, just at the thought of someone. But you aren’t just anybody. You are you.

Maybe it’s because it has been ages since he had sex. Perhaps it’s because of his growing crush on you. He tried to control those feelings, thinking he was too old for you. He thought you would never look in his direction. Why would you? You are intelligent, beautiful and so cute. Like all these qualities aren’t enough, you are always so thoughtful. You always ask if he wants your leftovers, or if he needs help with anything. He knows he wakes you up at night sometimes. His nightmares are loud, but you never complained. Not once. You always let him watch the news even though you would rather watch something else. You even lent some books to him. They were in such good condition he couldn't believe his eyes. It was like reading a brand-new book. So yeah, he really tried to act like it was nothing but a silly crush, but after hearing the way you moan daddy he can’t stop himself anymore. It was as if you awakened something inside him.

He doesn’t know what to do. Should he take his time or just get over with it? He keeps his fingers loose, stroking himself up and down slowly while his head still rests on the tiles. Even with minimal effort, it feels so good. He gently cups his balls, massaging them and imagining you are the one doing it. You are the one touching the most intimate parts of his body. You are the one ready to satisfy his growing need.

“Oh fuck.” A moan escapes his lips. The shower is running and you don’t have a super hearing like him, so he knows he’s safe. Still, it feels like it’s something he shouldn’t be doing. He shouldn’t be touching himself. He shouldn’t be moaning like this, yet you are so beautiful and needy… He already wanted you before hearing how you sound in bed, but now he wants you even more. He wants to be the one to bring you pleasure. He wants to be the one that satisfies all your needs so much that you would never need to touch yourself. Unless it’s to tease him.

He’s feeling guilty. So fucking guilty, but there’s no way he could stop now. Imagining you does something to him. There’s this primal need in his abdomen, building up.

His fingers tighten around his cock, moving faster than before, and he presses his lips together, trying not to make a sound. He keeps rubbing on that one sensitive part of his cock and finally, he starts coming with a choke. He keeps stroking himself, thinking it will be over soon, but it doesn’t end. There’s so much come that it surprises him. His hands continue pumping and his come paints the bathroom tiles immediately. He takes a deep breath when he’s done, trying to collect himself.

It feels like his head is spinning. He had been masturbating for quite some time, but he doesn’t remember the last time it felt this good. He opens his eyes, trying to ground himself, and all that shame he feels comes rushing in while looking at the mess he made. He groans loudly and then reaches for the showerhead. It doesn’t take long for him to clean the shower and then himself with the thought of you is still on the back of his mind. He is soaping himself, scrubbing, and then rinsing while trying to convince himself that it isn’t a big deal. It’s just masturbation. It’s normal.

Of course, he knows how normal it is. It’s like breathing, eating, or drinking water. His body needs it so he gave in, but listening to you and touching himself while thinking about you… That’s where he crossed the line. He knows it, yet he can’t bring himself to wish he never heard you. He might be a creep or a pervert, it doesn’t matter. Your voice, the way you sound while coming, and the way you touch yourself are stacked in his memory forever. It’s something no one can take away from him.

Sighing, he steps out of the shower. Drying himself doesn’t take too long. When he steps into the living room, all that welcomes him is silence. You are still in your bedroom, God knows doing what. The TV is off, and nothing seems to have moved since he ran to the bathroom. So he’s safe. You haven’t heard or suspected anything.

Quietly, he goes back to his room, finds something to put on and just looks in the mirror. Is he really too old for you or is that all in his mind? He doesn’t look older than 35, but that doesn’t change when he was born.

What if you are into that, though? What if you really like older guys? That would change everything, wouldn’t it? You would like that he’s older than you. Maybe you would even call him daddy, just like you did in your fantasy. That thought makes the blood rush back to his cock, making him feel the arousal running through his veins once again. Like he didn’t masturbate in the shower a couple of minutes ago. 

He knows his anatomy by now. He knows he’s able to get hard again pretty quickly thanks to the super soldier serum, but he hasn’t been this horny for a long time. Especially not because of the thought of someone, but the thought of you calling him daddy… 

Jesus… It makes him so hard!

Sighing, he drops his whole weight on the bed and closes his eyes, fighting the urge to touch himself again. It’s for the best if he stops thinking about you and focuses on something else, isn’t it? He tries to think of something, anything that could take his mind off of you, but nothing, absolutely nothing is more interesting. Nothing he tries to focus on lasts. His mind goes running back to you, imagining how you would look the moment he would push himself inside you. How your mouth would open, how you would throw your head back, and how wonderful it would feel.

That thought does it. It breaks his resistance. All the effort he put into not touching himself again goes out of the window, especially once he imagines you saying “Harder, please, daddy, I need it harder.” His hand goes under his boxers, slowly toying with his cock. It feels like he didn’t touch himself today, and the need is even stronger now. After a couple of strokes, he realizes he can’t move his hand properly like this, so he pushes down his shorts and boxers at the same, creating some space for movement. 

He looks down at his cock, already oozing with precum. His flesh hand moves on top of the head and smears it all the way down, making it easier for him to play with himself. He sets a steady rhythm, testing what feels right, but his precum isn’t enough to make it enjoyable. That’s when he reaches for his nightstand and takes out the bottle of lube. His metal hand works fast, opening the bottle and putting a generous amount on hisnhand, before he puts it back and starts to touch himself. 

Now it feels much better. His hand works seamlessly from the top to the bottom, repeating the same movement a couple of times. He tries to get lost in his fantasies but something feels off. He isn’t sure what it is because what he’s doing is enjoyable. Something is not enough. Maybe he should work faster. So that’s what he tries. His hand starts to move faster on his cock, but that’s not helping. 

He’s pretty sure this is what his body wants especially because he’s still rock hard. Should he be more gentle and take his sweet time? That doesn’t seem to work, either. Does he need a tighter grip? Maybe, but he can’t do more with his flesh hand. He glances at his metal hand for the first time since he started. He never used it to pleasure himself before. The flesh looked and seemed more appealing than metal, yet right now it’s not enough.

There’s a first time for everything.

He reaches for the lube once again. This time he uses his flesh hand and pours some on his metal one as he tries to convince himself that this is not a bad idea.

He goes right back into touching himself, just with his metal hand this time. It feels different, really different, and surprisingly okay. It doesn’t feel as warm. The texture is completely different yet it somehow works. His fingers start to work faster, his thumb brushing over the head and, thanks to the lube, it starts to feel much better than he ever expected. His reluctance slowly fades away and he decides to test how fast he can move his metal hand and how much his cock can actually take it. As he paces up, pleasure starts to build so unexpectedly. He takes a deep breath but keeps moving his hand. His head is now thrown back while with the flesh hand, he cups his balls, gently massaging them.

“Oh god…”

He doesn’t realize that he's just said that out loud. He just keeps working on himself, letting his whole body relax under that pleasure. He really didn’t intend to focus on you this time, but here you are again, in his mind. The image of you on top of him… You with all your charm and cuteness, touching him, making him feel this good while he takes your nipples into his mouth and sucks them until you can’t take it anymore. It drives you crazy, so you beg him to fuck you. Just like you begged while touching yourself.

“Please, please, please… I really need it, please…”

He can hear it so clearly like you are here and really begging him. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make that really happen.

“Anything you want, doll.”

His fingers move like they have a mind of their own. He knows he should slow down a little, make this one last a bit longer because it feels amazing, but his metal hand isn’t listening to him.

“Oh fuck, fuck.” 

He knows he’s about to come. He can feel it. It’s right there, just a few strokes away. He loses his damn mind imagining you under him, split open, and getting railed by him. God, that would feel so fucking good! You looking at him with those big beautiful eyes and begging him for more… Then your name slips out of his lips like it’s the most natural thing to say at that moment. 

Right when he’s about to come, a loud noise comes from the living room. Like something has just got shattered into pieces. His eyes fly open. He grabs his shorts and puts them on quickly, tucking his freaking erection away, and opens his door to see you standing there with an oversized T-shirt on. The glass you were probably holding is on the ground, but you don’t seem to care about that. You are looking at him with wide eyes and an open mouth.

Shit! She heard me.

[pitchsidestories]

fight like a girl II Ona Batlle x Reader

masterlist I moodboard I word count: 2202

pairings: Ona Batlle x Reader (romantic), Barcelona Femení x Reader (platonic)

warnings: disgusting men, mentioning of blood

“Look who has finally arrived.” Jana noticed you first when you stepped into the restaurant where the Barcelona women were having dinner. She was one of the closest friends of your girlfriend Ona in the team and you couldn’t help but to smile at her.

You might be small in height, but you always left quite an impression despite that. Even though your arm muscles were hidden underneath an oversized sweater you have stolen from your lover.  

“Hi everyone, sorry for being so late.”, you apologized, nervously redoing your ponytail.

“No worries, come here.”, Ona padded on the free chair next to her, her jaw looked tense. Something about the atmosphere was off.

You wondered why but the answer to the question in your head came promptly through a man and his male friend, you could hear the alcohol loosened their tongues in a way which made the women around the table deeply uncomfortable.   

“Oh, there’s another one.”, the taller man punched playfully into his mate's side.

“Not bad either if you know what I mean.”, the smaller but bulkier wiggled his eyebrows.

“Sorry, we asked them to leave several times now.”, Alexia sighed, she’s been clearly tired by their behaviour.  

“But they didn’t listen?”, you stood up abruptly from your seat next to her girlfriend.

“Y/n.”, Ona begun concerned, trying to stop you from doing something possible very stupid.  

“Let me deal with them.”, you asked her to, looking into her worried brown doe like eyes.

“Don’t.” she shook her head determined.

“But-.” you started.

“Just ignore them.”, your girlfriend begged gently.

“Come on you just finished training you need to drink and eat something y/n.”, Mapi changed the topic smoothly.

The older defender was right, in the box ring you forgot time and almost everything else. If you were honest with you were quite hungry at this point in the evening. Yet it was so hard to ignore the men close by.

 “Oh, she’s the baby of the group? What’s your name, beautiful?”, he cooed.

“Not your fucking business.”, you shot back grumpily.

“Oh, she’s a feisty one. You know how to make yourself interesting to men, huh?”, the smaller man grinned dirtily.

“Sorry to hurt your little ego guys but I’m not interested in men at all I’m a lesbian.”, you smiled smugly as you thanked the waitress for bringing you all the drinks before taking a big gulp of your beer waiting for their response.

It was like a dance in the boxing ring, attack, waiting for the response, defending and you wanted them to leave so you could have a nice peaceful evening with friends. But the other truth was you simply loved playing a dangerous game. Some might even say you were addicted to it.

“You just haven’t had the right one yet.“, one of the men replied with a laugh.

You almost rolled your eyes. Not even a creative insult. “How many times have I heard that sentence before? But I hate to break it to you, it’s a no.“

Instinctively you reached for Onas hand under the table.

The men remained unimpressed. The taller one flashed you a toothy grin and turned towards Jana: “Fine then. I’ll just take one of your friends.“

You wanted to laugh. None of the girls would even look at a sleazy guy like him. But you knew men like that. If women didn’t want him, he would get more aggressive until he got what he thought was his. You decided to keep your eyes fixed on him.

“No, you won’t.“, you said calmly.

He snorted: “What are you going to do about it?”

That was the moment you could feel your brain go into autopilot. Anger spread through your body like a wildfire, burning hot in your stomach and your chest. Your hands curled into fists, your nails digging into your skin as you slipped from your seat. There was nothing you hated more than being underestimated.

“You should be scared.“, you said plainly.

The tall man burst into laughter: “Of you? You’re tiny!”

His laugh was like gasoline to fire, only feeding your rage.

“And you’re tall with not a lot of brain to match your height apparently!”, you snapped at him.

He considered you for a moment before he ordered: “And you only have a big mouth so sit back down!”

With a frown, you took a step towards him: “I will. If you stop harassing my girlfriend and our friends!”

“Harassing?!”, he echoed and glared at you. “What are you on about? We’re just talking to them!”

“But they’re clearly not interested.“

You got angrier with every word out of his mouth but you also got this perverse sense of pleasure out of arguing with him.

“Amor, your food has arrived.“, Ona interrupted you. Her voice was gentle and cautious.

You waved her off: “I’m not hungry right now.“

“Please.“, she asked but your focus was back on the two men.

“I’m only asking you to leave on more time.“

The first man bent down to you like an adult would do with a young child. “Or what? You’re not scary at all, little one.“, he sneered.

That was all it needed. You swung at him and struck him right in the face. There was the satisfying crunch of his nose breaking and blood dripping on the floor. You heard the gasps from the football players behind you.

“Fuck! You fucking bitch!”, he cursed under his breath. You waited for him to lunge at you but he was too busy trying to stop the bleeding.

“I warned you.“, you said cooly and shot a warning look at his friend, signalling that you were ready to break a second nose that night.

“Time to leave, girls.”, Alexia announced in her captain voice.

“Please.”, Ona muttered.

“No, she’s got to pay for this!”, the man who you didn’t injure demanded hissing.

“What? You want your nose broken too?!”, you replied shaking your head in disbelief. Alarmed your girlfriend called your name but you couldn’t help to add. “That was no coincidence. I know how to do it.”

“Yes, but they aren’t worth it.”, she whispered into your ear.  

“Everyone harassing my friends is worth it.”, you told her fiercely while her teammates and you slowly made your way out.

“These men could’ve hurt you.”, Ona remarked. There was worry swinging through her words.

“No, they couldn’t. I’m a good boxer.”, you disagreed confidently as you wrapped protectively an arm around the brunette’s shoulder.

“I know you’re, what I’m trying to say is that you don’t need to protect us.”, she explained softly.

“He deserved that broken nose though.”, Mapi commented chuckling from behind.

“See?”, you grinned triumphantly at your lover.

“Just great, Maria.”, Ona groaned in frustration.

“Good night, girls.”, the older defender said with an innocent smile on her lips as she went for Ingrids hand to start the walk to their home.

“That’s our cue to leave too. Night.”, Jana declared.

“Goodbye, text me all when your home.”, the captain of the team hugged everyone before going her own way.

“Your captain can be such a mum, Oni.”, you smirked amused. The balmy night air felt nice against your skin, it made what happened in the bar appear like a faint memory.  

It didn’t have the same effect on your girlfriend for her the scene of you hitting that man was still replaying in her mind. Alone the thought of it made her heart sank.

“If she were more of a mum, she would’ve stopped you from doing that.”, Ona objected.

“Not that again.”, you grumbled.

Once you reached the safe walls of your home the adrenaline has worn off and your fingers started to hurt which didn’t get unnoticed by the defender even though you tried your best to hide your pain from her.

“Wait, I’ll get some ice.”, Ona noted.

“I’m fine.”, you assured her quickly. Although your sayings turned out to be useless, she was already up getting something to ease your hurt.

“No, you’re not I can tell that from the look on your face.”, the brunette sounded mad, but despite that there was a tenderness in the way she took care of you despite her furiousness.

“Ona…“, you whispered quietly, in hopes to calm her down but also because you weren’t sure what to say next. Of course, she had seen right to you even when you tried to ignore the throbbing pain in your hand. Your knuckles were still red and swollen.

“Yes?”, Ona asked. Her voice was tense as she took in the damage on your hand and gently applied some ice.

You watched her hold your injured hand in the dim light, her gaze directed downwards.

Only when she looked up with an inquiring expression on her face, you remembered to speak.

“I didn’t mean to… you know? I just never know what to do with my anger.“ You bit your lip. Nothing that came out of your mouth did your feelings justice. Nothing conveyed the message enough that you weren’t malicious, you were just an angry girl. Something that people didn’t want to see for some reason.

Onas eyes softened. She sighed quietly: “I know. And you don’t need to fight all the time. We could have handled that as a group together, not just you alone. Besides I get angry too, but only on the pitch.“

“That’s different.“ You blew out a short, hard breath of frustration. That was not even remotely comparable.

Ona nodded slowly: “Yes, you’re right… still.“

“Yes. Maybe. But I’m tired, Ona. Everyone sees my anger as something bad when it’s not!”

You regretted saying it as soon as Ona looked away again.

“You need to sleep…“, she said softly.

But you both knew it was not that kind of tiredness you were talking about.

You pulled your hand away from her: “No, you don’t get it. It helped me a lot in the past!”

“You never tell me anything about that so how am I supposed to know?”, Ona asked, frowning with her jaw set.

“I was telling you now!“, you retorted, rolling your eyes in annoyance.

Ona remained calm, unfazed by your rage: “Go on.“

To your surprise, her composure seemed to rub off on you.

“Doesn’t matter anymore. All you need to know is that I’m not ashamed of my anger.“

She shook her head determinedly, clearly not ready to let you sweep that topic under the rug: “No. I want to hear everything, the whole story. You don’t have to sugarcoat anything. Plus, I want you to teach me how to box.“

You blinked at her: “Wait. You do?”

“Yes, I do.“, she replied, leaving no room for doubt.

You studied her face. She looked so serious.

You could feel your heart beat faster thinking about Ona in a boxing, just because you loved the sport, just to get to know you better.

“How about I’ll take you boxing tomorrow?”, you suggested.

Ona finally smiled: “Sure.“

“And then we can talk.“

Ona and you went early to the gym the following day, mainly because it meant that you were completely alone. The morning light streamed through the large windows and highlighted the boxing ring which stood in the centre of the room. This was the place you felt most at ease and somewhere your anger wouldn’t be judged.

You recognized how your girlfriend struggled a bit with her boxing gloves, carefully you helped her to put them on.

Curiously she looked up to you. “When did you’ve to learn to fight for yourself?”

“When I was very young. People always made sure I knew that I was very different from them.”, you confessed alone the thought of it made you shudder.

“It must have been very painful for you especially when you were so young.”, Ona replied empathetically, the defender didn’t know she wasn’t standing right.

Gently you moved her into the right stance before continuing your story.

“Yes, and then people were surprised when I got angry for being treated differently.”

A cloud moved in front of the sun and darkened the whole room.

“And the boxing ring was a place to deal with your anger?”, the defender wanted to know genuinely interested.

“Well, when we had to flee from my home country, we were feeling so helpless and I never wanted to feel like this again. That’s a story for another time.”, you explained quickly.

With a cheeky smile on your lips, you advised her. “Hands up we want to protect your pretty face.”

While you showed her the essential boxing moves, Ona stopped your movement for a moment urging you to take her all in. “No, I want the full story.”

“Alright, but it’s going to be a long one.”, you warned the brunette.

You have circled around this topic for so long it was time to face it. And two things you were certain about, one your girlfriend was strong enough to handle what you’d tell her and second you were brave enough to speak about it.

Fight like a girl wasn’t an insult to both of you it was a compliment.

[imtryingbuck]

Timeless Love.

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky might have met the love of his life in the middle of a war, he just wished he was able to live a life with her.

Word count: 6,598

Warnings: angst. kidnapping. fluff. Hydra. forced breeding. forced miscarriage.

A/N: enjoyed writing this!! Thank you for the request. Also thank you to @buckys-wintersoldier for helping me when I needed it!🤍

Part 2

Masterlist

“Y/n L/n. 107th.”

She nodded smiling at her friend who had also been given the same unit. All the nurses - professional and volunteers alike were waiting for their names to be called to hear what unit they would be stationed with.

Then she was given the news that she was going to be the matron. And at twenty four years old that was a massive accomplishment, herself and her parents were beyond proud.

“Hey doc” she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at hearing the familiar voice that she began hearing everyday. “I’m injured doll, need your help to patch me back up”

Looking up for the clipboard she carried around she saw the Sergeant who had captured all the attention from all the nurses. Though he never paid any mind to them, just her.

James Buchanan Barnes.

“Firstly I’m not a doctor, just a nurse and secondly this is your seventh time coming here this week”

“Firstly you should be a doctor, better than the one we’ve got and secondly I keep getting hurt”

“Bucky��� it’s only Wednesday.”

“You love me. Aren’t you going to ask me what my very serious injury is?”

“I don’t love you. Okay, what seems to be the problem Sergeant?”

“Y-you don’t love me? I’m going to cry myself to sleep tonight thanks to you!”

“What’s your injury Sergeant?”

“My heart” he places his hand on his chest and looks up at her sympathetically. “My heart hurts doll”

“James… you do realise that your heart is on the left side not the right…”

Moving his hand to the left side “Oh… are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure” chuckling at his facial expression, he winks causing her to laugh.

“The truth is that I just wanted to see you, I like you even though you’re being mean to me” he pouts and bats his eyelashes as he kicked his legs back and forth.

“How am I being mean to you?” She asks whilst counting stock, trying her hardest to ignore the intense gaze of his ocean blue eyes on her back.

“Because you won’t let me take you dancing”

“You should go with one of the other nurses James”

“I don’t want any of the other nurses, just you”

“You-“

“Y/n! Y/n quick we need you!” Mary’s panic scream interrupted her. Jumping up and rushing out of the tent with Bucky right behind her, a group of men carrying a stretcher with a man lying on it. His right leg gone as well as his left arm.

“Get him in here” Bucky opens the flaps of the tent, his eyes trained on the young soldier as they passed him. “Help me transfer him on to the bed, carefully.”

Bucky watched on as Y/n took control, ordering the nurses around and trying to get the soldiers to move away so she could work. When one of the men wouldn’t move Bucky stepped in.

It wasn’t long before Y/n made everyone get out except for the nurses.

“Go” Bucky’s head snapped from the medical tent to Dum Dum sitting next to him, giving the man a questioning look, Dum Dum laughed. “The doc”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about” he mumbled before downing the rest of his drink.

“You’ve been turning down women all night and I’m honestly surprised that you haven’t burnt a hole into the tent with how intense you’ve been looking at it. Oh and let’s not forget that you’ve been obsessed from the second you laid eyes on her”

“I-no I haven’t.”

“You have, and don’t bother trying to argue with me. Go and talk to her”

“And say what?”

“That’s on you” Bucky contemplated on whether or not to take his friend’s advice, it didn’t take too long before he was getting up and heading over to the medical tent. “Shes in her own tent” he heard from behind him so he changed course.

Standing outside the small tent he fixed his hair before pushing the flap aside, he found her sitting hunched over the small table one hand in her hair and the other scribbling away as she filled in paperwork.

“I can feel your eyes on me” her whispered voice snapped him out of his head.

“Are you alright doll?”

“I’m fine don’t worry, go and enjoy your night”

Moving closer to her he saw the tears falling freely down her cheeks. “Hey, hey why are you crying doll?”

“He… he didn’t make it. I tried everything bu-but it wasn’t enough, he was only seventeen Bucky.”

“Oh doll. You did everything you could-“

“But it wasn’t enough! And within the week his parents are going to know I failed, I failed to save their son”

Bucky pulled her into his arms, holding her close to his chest ignoring the feeling of her tears wetting his shirt. “It’s not your fault” he whispered over and over again as she fell apart in his arms.

“I failed”

“No you didn’t! Nobody would have been able to have saved him Y/n and you know that.”

“He was only seventeen Bucky. A child!”

“I know sweetheart, I know.”

As the laughing and music continued outside Bucky kept Y/n close to his chest, rocking them both from side to side slowly. Sleep began to overtake them, being the gentleman that he was he turned his back on her waiting for her to change into her nightwear.

“Goodnight doll”

“Stay… please”

“Of course” he was slightly shocked by seeing her shifting over in the small cot then patting the space she had created.

Climbing in next to her, wrapping her up and pulling her into his chest. Pressing his lips to her forehead “goodnight my love”

It became an unspoken routine between the two of them that Bucky would sleep in her bed, they ignored the teasing from all those around them - as if the nurses weren’t warming the soldiers beds themselves. There was nothing sexual about what they were doing, it was just two lost souls finding themselves seeking shelter within one another.

That however changed one night when Bucky went into their now shared tent finding her once again hunched over the table. “Hi doll”

“Hi Sergeant”

“Me and the guys move out tomorrow”

“I heard. How are you feeling?” She asked looking up from the papers in front of her.

“Nervous I won’t lie, but I’m going to miss you”

“I’m going to miss you too but you shouldn’t be gone long, right?”

“Two weeks, three at the most” he shrugged. “Doll, come and dance with me”

“There’s no music…”

“So? Come on” he held his hand out for her to take, his heart fluttering with the look she gave him as she puts her hand in his. “You are so pretty” he whispers as they swayed together.

“‘M not.”

“Yes you are. From the second I laid eyes on you I thought you were the most prettiest dame I had ever laid eyes on.”

“You’re lying!” She chuckled.

“I am not!”

“If you say so”

Bucky gently raises her head up by her chin, “I have never lied to you.”

“Bucky… kiss me please” she asked softly. Their lips met slowly at first before growing heatedly and passionately.

The next morning with only a thick blanket covering their naked bodies they basked in the silence of the camp, Bucky running his fingers through her hair and Y/n drawing invisible circles on his chest.

“When this war comes to an end me and you are going to get married” Bucky declared as he broke the silence.

“Don’t I get a say in this?”

“Nope” he chuckled. “Why, don’t you want to marry me?”

“And put up with you for the rest of my life?”

“Yeah, why what’s wrong with that?”

“You’re annoying”.

“And?” He drawls with a cheeky grin on his face.

“I’ll probably smoother you in your sleep?”

“And? Doll you aren’t giving me a good reason for why we shouldn’t get married”

“You honestly want to marry me?”

“More than anything, and I promise I’ll be an amazing husband and we’ll have so much fun together an-“

“Yes”

“-d we’ll make so many memories-“

“Yes”

“-and we’ll grow old toge-wait… yes?”

“Yes Bucky, I’ll marry you when the war is ov-“ her words get cut off from him pressing his lips to hers.

“I can’t wait to annoy you for the rest of our lives together”

Later that morning, before Dum Dum led his unit out of the camp heading to only where they knew they were going Bucky ran over to Y/n giving her a kiss and promised her that he would come back to her.

Since the only people left there was the nurses, injured men and some of the officials the camp was excruciatingly quiet. And since it was only just them… well the camp had become very boring.

Two weeks passed quicker than she thought, waiting to hear the loud chatter from the men to fill in the silence yet it never came. Another week went by and again there was no sight of them. Y/n was helping Private Smith sit up in more of a comfortable position when Mary came rushing in, slightly out of breath.

“Th-they’ve been captured!”

“What? How do you know?”

“Word just come in, I overheard it but apparently Captain America is going to rescue them because he knows someone in the unit”

“I-okay. Okay erm… we’ll need to get things set up for when they come back just incase they are hurt” Y/n rambled off, unaware that she was squeezing Smiths hand - not like he minded.

“He’ll be fine darling” Smith squeezed her hand back.

“I-I know. You need to eat-“

“I will don’t worry but you need to eat too darling as well”

Sitting down next to him they enjoyed a nice meal together, Smith doing everything to help get her mind off of Bucky and the others by talking to her about his life before the war, his wife and children, telling her all the plans he had planned when he got home. It worked. Until it was time to go to bed, being alone with her thoughts made her mind come up with all kinds of scenarios and most of them weren’t good.

It was another two weeks before word got to them that they were coming back. Captain America had saved them.

Y/n was in the medical tent filling out paperwork when applause erupted in the air as Captain America approached with the 107th behind him, hearing the cheers she jumped up and began getting things ready, as the first person was brought in her sole attention was on the solider and not the other one she had been worrying about in the five weeks since she had seen him.

“Hey! Let’s hear it for Captain America!” She smiled at hearing his voice as she concentrated on the patient in front of her.

“He’s already asked about you” Ann says as she put pressure on the solider’s wound.

“Ah, your the famous doc that he wouldn’t shut up talking about”

“Excuse me?”

“Barnes? Yeah he wouldn’t stop talking about you, if you ask me he’s in love with you” the guy winked.

It wasn’t until everything in the medical tent had calmed down that she had heard his voice again. “I’m injured doll”

Spinning around she sees him standing there with a grin on his dirt covered face. “Who are you?”

“Your future husband, silly. Missed you doll”

“I missed you too” hearing her words he crossed over to where she stood and placed his hands on her face, cupping her face before placing his lips against hers. Both sighing in content at the feeling they had both been missing for weeks.

“Are you hurt? Where?”

“‘M not hurt my love, just messing with you”

“Are you not going to introduce me Buck?” A new voice cut through making them take a step apart from each other.

“Y/n this is Steve, Steve this is my doll” Y/n smiled at the blond who happily returned the expression.

“It’s nice to meet the woman who this one wouldn’t stop talking about”

“I didn’t talk about her once” Bucky rushed out. “I didn’t doll” shaking his head whilst looking at her.

“He’s actually not the first person to tell me that” Y/n winked at Steve making the man laugh.

“I hate the both of you.”

A celebration was held that night when they came back, the men sharing the tale of how they were captured - all teasing each other when they said they weren’t scared. Telling the women how Captain America had told them to leave but they refused, Dum Dum said that they arrived together and were going to be leaving together. Everyone including Y/n hanging on to every word that was spoken of their rescue and how they defeated the enemy.

Bucky never spoke a word, no, he was too lost in watching the flames of the fire-pit flickering off Y/n’s face. Mesmerised by the way her eyes shined so brightly in the darkness, audibly groaning as he watched her bite her lip - his mind going straight to the gutters.

Much later that night Bucky took his time in making love to her.

The 107th Infantry Regiment had been teamed up with Steve to take down an organisation, Bucky promised her that he would contact her whenever they set up camp for the night. Every night they spoke even if it was just for a few minutes, he told her where they were and asked how everything back at camp was going, before ending their call he would tell her that he was coming back to her.

The last time she spoke to him he informed her that they were in Austria, he made her giggle when he complained that they had to go up the alps, telling her how cold it was. He then shocked her by telling her that he was in love with her. Before she could even respond the connection cut off.

She knew there was something wrong when she never received another call from him, Mary and Ann told her that he was just busy and that he would come back and everything was going to be fine. Every time she tried to speak with the General about the update of where they were he just walked away from her.

For two months she didn’t hear anything from him or from anyone, for two months she spent her time trying to take her mind off of the brunette who had wormed himself into her heart.

Mary came running over to the river where Y/n was sitting watching as the ducks swam past her. “Y/n… they’re back.”

Jumping up and running to where the men were, she looked around for the man who she had been missing more than anything, her eyes moved frantically from man to man who all seemed to have a problem with making eye contact with her. Her heart settled when a hand rested itself on her shoulder.

“Darlin’ I-I need to talk to you” it was Dum Dum.

“W-where is he? Dum…”

“Come with me love” he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and moved them to her tent. “I’m sorry darling, he… he didn’t make it”

“W-where is he though?”

“He fell off the train in the alps, we couldn’t find his body”

“No… no we need to fi-find him so his family can bury him… Dum please” his heart ached for the woman in front of him, all he could do was hold her in his arms as she broke down crying. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that Bucky’s last words to Steve was him begging the blond to make sure he looked after Y/n.

After crying for a good solid ten minutes she removed herself from his arms, wiped her tears before nodding and walking out - leaving Dum Dum standing there dumbfounded.

She knew herself that she wasn’t going to be able to be aloud time away to mourn, they weren’t dating or married, while they had feelings for each other and they spent every waking moment together it didn’t mean anything to the higher ups. Walking into the medical tent everyone went quiet at seeing her, Mary tried telling her that she could go and rest but Y/n just shook her head and got to work. She needed the distraction to take her mind away from the pain in her chest.

For months after she became a shell of herself, no longer laughing or smiling, no longer holding conversations with anyone, always working and taking little care for herself. And finally that day came when the war ended, everyone around her celebrated whilst she was packing up her things ready to head back home.

It had been two years since the war ended and people were still picking up their lives. Y/n was on her way to home after finishing her shift at the local hospital when a black car pulled up alongside her.

“Excuse me Miss, are you Y/n L/n?” A man asked as he got out of the car.

“I am, who are you?”

“Ah, we have a friend in common”

“We do? Wait what are you do-“

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be Miss L/n, wouldn’t want to hurt you.” Her eyes were wide as his hand tightened around her neck, her whole body trembling with fear. “Nighty night” he smirks as he presses a needle into her left arm.

Y/n woke up disoriented and dazed with her hands and ankles tied painfully tight, trying to speak but her words came out as slurred. “Ah little lambs awake. Go back to sleep little lamb” the same guy from side of the road spoke, but instead of a needle being pushed into her arm he raised his leg and kicked her straight in the face. Knocking her out instantly.

The second time she awoke was when a bucket of stale water was thrown into her face, both arms tied to arms of the chair she was uncomfortably sat in. A man infront of her smiled as she was trying to blink away the water droplets off her eyelashes.

“So you’re the precious little one that our Soldat keeps muttering about, no matter how many times we wipe his memories he always mutters your name”

“I-I don’t know who you are talking about”

“Soldat! You know him” the unnamed man shouts as if it was the most obvious thing. “Get her ready. Miss… I won’t lie to you, what’s going to happen next is going to hurt… well have fun” the man sighs dramatically and then chuckles making his way to the door, leaving her alone with four men holding guns.

Everything that happened next happened in a blur from two of the men grabbing her roughly and dragging her down the corridor, to being strapped down on a cold metal table - a meek looking man muttering something to her that she couldn’t quite understand before a large needle was injected into her arm. 

When she woke the next time she was in a small room - on the floor, that only had a chipped white framed bed with a thin mattress on top of it, she grimaced at seeing the blotches of stains. Her nose crunched upward at the nasty aroma lingering the room. Y/n flinched at hearing noises just outside, she could hear clearly that a man was laughing which caused her to back away and put her hands over her ears trying desperately to block out the sound. Not understanding why everything was amplified.

“Ah, little lamb you’re awake. I’m pleased to tell you that it’s worked, your going to be our new little asset-“

“W-what have you done to me?”

“We’ve made you stronger than any man could wish to be! We’ve made you fast-“

“What have you done!”

“Right, we’ve injected you with a special serum that’s enhanced you. Your lucky little lamb, those before you never made it past the thirty minute mark after injection. Now you’re ready for your second phase of becoming our little asset, boys… be careful with her.” The second he finished his sentence the same four men from before came in and grabbed her roughly once again.

Being dragged down a corridor and into a room she tried to beg the men to let her go, pleading with them that she had a family and they’d be looking for her, she even tried bribing them. Her begs and cries fell on deaf ears.

“Now little lamb, from what I can gather is that this chair here, a beauty in her own right isn’t actually nice to those that sit in her. She’s not exactly been kind to your little boyfriend but that’s because he tries to fight it, I’m going to be kind to you and suggest that you don’t do the same as him otherwise it will hurt more.” He waved his hand in the air lazily and the two agents that had ahold of her shoved her towards the chair, once sat they strapped her legs down and placed a strap across her chest.

“P-please stop ple-“

“None of that little lamb, it’s not going to hurt… much” he chuckles. “Try not to scream, it’ll will only annoy me”

She goes to reply when a loud buzzing sound came from both sides to her, frozen and strapped into place as two metal plates places themselves onto her face. Y/n could hear the man in a white coat start to count down from five, squeezing her eyes shut tightly she saw a blinding white light as her whole body spasmed and withered in pain. The agents all flinched as the glass behind them started to crack. Once it finished and the plates were moved away from her head, her head started to roll to the side as drool began seeping from her mouth.

“Little lamb, do you remember me?”

“W-w-where am I?” Her mouth felt like it was full of cotton wool, and her tongue felt heavy.

“What’s your name?”

“Y-Y/n”

“Do it again”

By the eighth time of having her mind wiped the window was gone, she had blood seeping from her ears and nose, her bottom half was wet. After they were done with her she was dragged back to her cell and tossed on the ground as if she was nothing.

Y/n had forgotten everything. She didn’t know who she was or where she was. They kept calling her little lamb. Crawling into the corner of the room she pulled her knees up to her chest and began mumbling incoherently to herself.

Every time she closed her eyes all she saw was a blacked out face with the brightest blue eyes.

For years she moved and breathed when they told her too, she spoke when they said, she ate when they told her to eat - not like it was much mind you.

Throughout those years she didn’t understand her purpose of why she was there, she never got to leave the place she was kept at, all she did was train and fight with those who were a lot bigger then her in height and weight.

What she didn’t realise is that she did have a purpose for those she worked for, and that she was leaving the base to do their bidding. Completely unaware that she had taken so many lives.

She didn’t know what they were injecting into her every few months was the sperm belonging to the Winter Soldier in hopes that they could create an army of pure bred super soldiers that they could use to fight and take down their enemies without themselves having to do anything. Or that the nurse who seemed to take pity on her would give her a tablet to force the innocent little foetus to never grow up in a world that it would only be used for pain and suffering.

She didn’t understand what she had done wrong, one minute she was training with the other super soldiers and then she was being hit and shocked by the batons and then dragged to the room that kept the cryostasis chambers, she pleaded with the agents that she would be good, begging them not to put her in there again but they didn’t listen. Her whole body stiffened when they gave her the option - chamber or chair.

She hated the chamber.

But she hated the chair even more.

“See you in a little while little lamb.”

Fury had told them that SHIELD had discovered a new Hydra base and that they needed to go and take it down, not even an hour later they were fifteen minutes away from touching down at the location of the base.

“Cap, it looks deserted…” Natasha said as she slid her gun into her holster.

“We still need to be cautious” Steve told them. He tapped his foot against Bucky’s to gain his attention. “You okay?”

“Don’t worry about me. Seriously punk I’m fine”

“Alright. Everyone be careful.”

They moved quietly and slowly towards the base - that had seen better days - without any trouble, getting inside they all stole quick glances at Bucky making him sigh. “No I’ve never been here before”

“Didn’t say anything Barnes”

“You didn’t need too”

As they moved further inside it became obvious that they were the only ones there, apart from a few rats running around. Steve gave the orders out, him and Wanda going together down one hallway, Bucky and Sam - which he did mainly to annoy his best friend, Natasha and Tony going off to find the computers to see if they can get anything off them.

“How long do you think this place has been empty for?” Wanda asked.

“Not sure… it looks like awhile.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are they all open?” Wanda points at cryo chambers, looking at Steve with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t know? But let’s keep looking there has to be something here for us to ta-“ Wanda cuts him off with a gasp. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a woman, she’s pretty…”

“What are you- Y/n?” Wanda’s head snapped from the woman in the chamber to the blond standing next to her.

“Do-do you know her? Wait… Y/n?”

Pressing his comms button Steve tells Bucky to come to where he was, told him to hurry up, hearing the distress tone of their captain Nat and Tony also went along too.

“Steve is this the same Y/n that Bucky calls out for in his sleep?” Wanda asked, watching him nodding slowly she looked down sadly.

The team had slowly grown use to Bucky screaming and hearing him thrash around in his sleep and had even witnessed him trashing him room trying to escape, thinking and believing he was still at the Hydra base he was kept at. One night it had actually taken all of them to try and pin him down on the ground after a horrific nightmare, it took Thor to grab Mjölnir to place it on Bucky’s naked chest to pin him down and for Wanda to use her magic to clear his mind just so they could get him to calm down. She apologised profusely for it the next day but he just smiled, placed his hand on hers gently and thanked her. But every night without fail they all heard him mumbling or crying out for Y/n and none of them wanted to overstep that boundary by asking him directly so they asked Steve who this person was and all he told them was that it wasn’t his place to say anything but that she meant the world to Bucky. And after that they let it be though they were all curious.

And now Wanda was staring up at the woman who had been on her friends mind for so long, she didn’t know how Bucky was going to react to seeing her here.

“Steve?” Bucky stood at the doorway with Sam, Natasha and Tony behind him. “What’s up?”

“Buck… she-she’s here”

“Who?”

Steve watched as Bucky paled and his eyes got shinier with tears filling them. “Y/n.”

“N-no no you’re lying Steve.” His eyes moved to Wanda when he noticed her shifting from foot to foot. He knew by the look on her face that what Steve was saying wasn’t a lie.

He moved slowly to where Wanda stood, never taking his eyes off her until he stood in front of her, it wasn’t until she gave him a sad smile that he finally looked to his right. A choked sob was the only sound in the whole building. Wanda tried to grab him before he fell but it was no use, Bucky landed with a loud thud on his knees as he looked up at the woman he had fallen madly in love with in the forties. The woman he had made a promise too. A promise he couldn’t keep.

“St-Steve we need-I need to get her out of here”

“I know Buck, I know but we need to be careful, we don’t know how long she’s been in there for”

“We can’t leave her!”

“We aren’t going to leave her Barnes, just give me a few minutes to try and figure out how we’re going to get sleeping beauty out of here, okay?” Tony says before looking around the room to find a way to get her out.

As everyone moved around the room trying to find a way to get her out of the chamber Bucky stayed on his knees looking helplessly up at her. “That’s why you couldn’t find her, she’s been here”

“I tried Buck-“

“No, I know you did. H-how long do you think she’s been here for?”

“I��� I don’t know”

Not long after, Tony managed to find a way to open up the door to the chamber without causing any damage to Y/n. They all shivered as the cold air hits them, Bucky took the straps off her and took her gently into his arms. His body tensed when Tony injected something into her arm. “It’s just to keep her asleep until we get back to the tower”.

Steve told him to take Y/n onto the jet so they could finish off clearing the base, they all watched as he carried her as if she was the most delicate thing in the world.

“Steve, she’s a super solider” Nat looked over at him from the computer.

“Have you found anything else about her?”

“She’s got way more kills under her belt than I do, they call her little lamb” saying that nickname made her nose scrunch up. “And… oh Steve, they’ve been injecting her with Bucky’s sperm, it never worked” Steve’s eyes burned a hole into the computer screen angry at everything that he was hearing.

“Sh-she was a nurse you know? A great one, all the men said they loved going to her because she was just the kindest of them all. She deserved so much better than this.”

“Steve she’s been in cryo for twelve years… they wrote down when they were put in and taken out, she was never taken out twelve years ago”

“Jesus. Right, gather everything you can on Y/n and I’ll meet you on the jet”

Leaving Natasha to do what she did best he went to the jet, he stood there watching as Bucky stroke his fingers through the top of her head, not taking his eyes off her face.

“I-I’ve put blankets on her from the back, she’s still freezing Stevie.”

“Buck, there’s something I need to tell you about her.”

“What is it?”

“She’s like us, she’s got the serum too. T-they were trying to impregnate her with-with your… you know, and Nat found out that she’s been in cryo for twelve years”

“T-they don’t care do they? They don’t care who they hurt or the pain they inflict, they-they’ve hurt the sweetest, big hearted person and for what? Just to leave her in there for all those years? It’s my fault isn’t it?”

“No Buck, it’s not your fault-“

“It has to be, I kept saying her name when they first got me. I didn’t want to forget her so I kept saying her name and look what happened!”

“Bucky it’s not- don’t try and interrupt me- it’s not your fault. But we’ve found her and she’s going to come home with us and we can help her”

“Did she do bad things too?” His voice was so small and quiet that it was lucky that Steve had enhanced hearing otherwise he wouldn’t have heard what his friend said.

“Yes but Buck we know her, we know she’s a good person just like you she’s been made to do bad but we can help her, I promise you”

“We’ll all defend her tin-man” Tony says, when both men look over they see the four of them nodding in agreement.

Two weeks after finding his only love and brining her back to the compound Bucky refused to move away from her hospital bed, on the fourth day Steve had to beg him to come with him to get some food - it wasn’t until his stomach growled in hunger that he finally accepted Steve’s offer, he left her with a kiss on her forehead and made Natasha and Wanda watch over her, made them both promise to ring him the second Y/n started to stir awake.

Steve then tried to get him to leave just so he could get a good night sleep or to have a shower but the brunette shrugged him off - it wasn’t until Dr Cho came in and told him to get a shower, told him that he should be clean and smell nice for when Y/n woke up. That had him running to his room and showering quickly before running back down to her.

It was better than nothing.

“Steve?”

“Mhm”

“What’s Fury going to do when Y/n wakes up?”

“Nothing, him and Tony have already pleaded her case and all she’s got to do when she wakes is give all the information she can remember. Fury is positive that she’ll be be fully pardoned and he thinks that she could be an asset to the team, that is if she wants to stay”

“W-why-do you think she’ll want to leave?”

“I don’t know Bucky”

“Would you be mad at me if I left with her?”

“No. I would be mad though if you didn’t invite me over for dinner” Bucky let out a laugh whilst he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

Steve and Wanda had left after spending a couple of hours keeping Bucky company as he watched over Y/n, he was just starting to drift off to sleep when he felt her hand twitch.

“Y/n? Doll?” Another twitch. “Doll, come on wake up”

Bucky shot straight up knocking the chair backwards when Y/n jumped up out of the bed, falling down instantly, he watched as she pulled herself to the wall bringing her knees to her chest, her eyes moving around the room frantically. Her voice hoarse as she mumbles softly to herself, Bucky slowly moved around the bed.

“Doll? Y/n it-its me Bucky”

“Bucky?”

“Yes, yes it’s me” she says his name again, her teared filled eyes looking straight at him. “You’re safe.”

“W-where are we?”

“Somewhere safe, I promise.”

“They will be here for me” slowly standing up, ignoring the blood seeping down her arm she moved over to Bucky. “I-I need to leave, I need to go back home, they-they’ll be mad at me”

“Y/n hey, hey stop, doll look at me, they aren’t looking for you okay? You’re safe here, I’m not letting anyone hurt you again. I promise”

“You promise?”

“I promise” Bucky moved closer as soon as she was in reach he pulled her in his chest, squeezing her tightly, repeatedly pressing his lips to her hair.

Helen came in a little later to run some checks, talking to Y/n like she was an actual person and not like she was a nobody like she was use to, when she said thank you it meant more than just a simple gesture. The next day Steve, Sam and Wanda walked into the hospital room shocked to seeing Y/n sitting up and talking to Bucky, though they had slowly gotten use to seeing Bucky coming out of his shell even after all these years of knowing him Sam and Wanda stood there watching Bucky be a whole new person, the only person that didn’t find it weird was Steve who had a huge smile on his face, happy to see his best friend finally happy and at peace now that he had Y/n with him.

When Fury got word that she was awake he came down to see her, she answered all of the questions he had as best as she could. Fury reassured both her and Bucky that nothing would happen to her.

A month after waking up Y/n hand in hand with Bucky sat in a room with the team standing behind them, Fury at the end of the table and members of the government in front of them. She was nervous to hear what punishment she was going to receive, yes Fury promised that she wouldn’t be but when Bucky finally caved and told her all of the crimes she was connected to - not only did her heart break at hearing the things that she did but she feared what kind of punishment she was going to receive, she felt like she needed to be.

“Y/n L/n you are granted a full pardon, but you will need to be a part of the Avengers-“

“That’s not what we agreed on!” Fury interrupted the man.

“It’s the best thing-“

“I’ll do it. I-I need to do it” Y/n nodded.

Bucky and Steve had to beg Tony not to throw a party to celebrate Y/n’s freedom and her new role in the team of superheroes, he reluctantly agreed but told them they needed to do something as a team for her. Bucky told him a nice meal would do, it wouldn’t push her out of the comfort zone she had created for herself, so that’s what they did. Their laughter throughout the meal bounced off the walls as Y/n was retelling her memories of the antics Bucky would get up to during camp, told them how she managed to push Steve in to the river when he refused to go into the water.

In that month Bucky had been sleeping in bed with Y/n after she begged him to stay with her, and that night was no different. The team no longer heard Bucky’s screams because he no longer had nightmares.

“Y/n”

“Yeah?”

“I never stopped loving you, you know?”

“I’ve never stopped loving you either.” She smiled up at him. Slowly their lips met, both sighing at the familiar feeling that they had been deprived of feeling for nearly eighty years.

Just as Bucky closed his eyes to get some sleep he began chuckling when he heard Y/n’s question.

“Are you still going to marry me so I can put up with you for the rest of my life?”

“I made a promise didn’t I?”

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama

[hardlyinteresting]

Love, Guilt and Other Wounds

Aaron Hotchner x female reader

When Aaron and his partner are taken hostage, he has to break her heart to save her life.

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, a little bit of domestic fluff, mention of blood, injury (non-graphic), hostage situation, knives, cannon-compliant themes of violence, non-detailed discussion about religion (Christianity), themes of childhood abuse, please let me know if you want me to add anything else.

Word count: (less than I expected, sorry) 3.7k  Request here! | Masterlist

"Of course, I’ll hurt you. Of course, you’ll hurt me. Of course, we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence". - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Aaron isn't sure if he believes in a God or a higher power. He was taught to read scripture; and spent Sunday mornings perfecting his posture in church pews-- starched shirts and neckties pulled too tight. The preacher's sermons left him wanting-- wondering how this man of God could stand over his congregation preaching every week, and not see all the lies they were holding back. How could he not see the secrets Aaron seemed to read so clearly? At just fourteen Aaron knew who was having an affair and with whom. He could see which children feared their fathers. Every pew had another story, another family growing together, or falling apart. The hypocrisy of it all drove him mad, and he imagined standing from his seat to shout it, overwhelmed as he realized he had unintentionally become the keeper of everyone's secrets. He learned that everyone in that church was a liar in their own right, and he hated it. But, when he left for college, his mother called to ask if he was still going to church on Sundays, and he lied and said yes. 

He should have paid more attention. Maybe then he'd understand how he ended up here. Perhaps it's some sick retribution. A cosmic evening of the scales; his penance for his sins. He just wishes you weren't here with him. How dare he think he could love someone when all he's ever done is punish those who love him? His hands are stained with blood; he taints everything he touches. 

Very early on in his career, Aaron learned he couldn’t take cases personally. As devastating as it was to have another victim show up while hunting a killer, it wasn’t a personal failure. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. He repeated the process again and again. Logically he knows that he is not responsible for the actions of the aggressive sociopath who is now holding the two of you hostage; but, he blames himself for not keeping you safer, for bringing you with him, and for putting you in harm's way. He knows he will not recover if you don’t make it out of here. He won’t forgive himself. 

The profile said this man would be anti-social. Physically, he’d be small in stature. It was clear he’d been sneaking up on his victims. He had been taking couples, knocking out the men with a blow to the back of the head, and then the women. It’s a method that the team had seen before, common for UNSUBs without the social ability to lure their victims, or the physical strength or confidence to attack head-on. But they had not profiled that he would escalate to taking out his targets with a taser. 

After six days in San Diego, the team finally had a lead on two rental properties in the UNSUB’s comfort zone. One was an old tyre factory, listed as a multipurpose warehouse and storage space; the other was a large storage facility in an industrial neighbourhood. Both units had been paid for in cash, both offered the privacy and space required to hold and torture two people for days at a time. The team split up, Hotch and you arranged to meet the owner of the factory space to find out more about who the renter was and gain access to the property. With no response from the owner of the second property, Morgan, Prentiss, and Rossi headed over to check it out. 

The two of you had only been on the property for five minutes before Aaron had been incapacitated and taken out. He had foolishly made his way into the building while you ran back to the SUV to grab your jacket. Out cold, there was nothing Aaron could do to stop you from meeting the same fate. 

It’s not his fault. But he feels like it is as he watches you shiver from across the room. He can’t be certain how much time has passed, but it feels like hours. He can only hope that you’re being kept in the building you were attacked in, that the team will connect the dots and come and get you, but until then you’re stuck. He watches, nauseated as your eyes flutter open, and then shut again. You’re concussed, he doesn’t need to be a doctor to know that. His ears are ringing, and he’s sure the blow he took to the head has at the very least temporarily worsened his hearing. 

“Doesn’t the FBI have rules against fraternization?” The UNSUB wonders out loud, waving a knife around as he walks towards you. 

“What makes you think we’re a couple?” Hotch asks, as he tries to work his hands free from the rope that binds them behind his back, “She’s just a colleague”. 

It’s a lie. But it needs to be said. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. Buy time, shift the UNSUB’s interest away from the two of you. Ruin the fantasy.

“I think I’ve been doing this long enough to know a couple when I see a couple, Aaron,” the man taunts, obviously proud of himself. He’s feeling emboldened having taken two FBI agents, but that works in your favour. He’s getting cocky, too full of himself. It’s a level of confidence he isn’t used to having, it just gives him a higher height to fall from. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. “I think it’s time we wake your girlfriend up,” the man says, his hand gripping tightly at your hair, your head tugged back without remorse. 

Aaron resists the urge to cringe as he hears you groan, your face twisted with obvious pain as you’re rudely awakened. “She’s pretty. What’s she doing with you?” 

“I told you. She’s a colleague”. 

Your eyes are unfocused, scanning the room trying to make sense of what is going on. 

The man raises the knife, holding it to your throat. This time Aaron blinks, desperate to control his expressions and micro-expressions. In this scenario, the less he cares about you, the safer you are. 

It’s the burden of being tied to him. Time after time his love destroys people. 

The blade presses closer to your throat. Aaron controls his breathing. 

“Impressive agent Hotchner. But I’m still not convinced,” the UNSUB moves the blade but pulls your head back further. Your eyes meet Aaron’s, “Do what you’re going to do, he doesn’t care,” you say. You’re speaking to the man with the knife in his hand as much as you’re speaking to Aaron. He weighs his options, his heart pounding as he watches you hold your breath, willing the tears to leave your eyes. It’s the permission he needs but doesn’t want.  Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. He knows you’re doing the same, telling him to break your heart to save your life. 

“Please, Hotc--”. 

He doesn’t let you finish, “Just shut up for once. Please,” he thinks the words cut through him more than they cut through you. Knowing his cruelty is a lie does little to soften the blow, and it breaks his heart to be the one throwing it. 

But this is all he’s good for, isn’t it? Letting people down. Surely it’s not just coincidence that so many of those who have dared to love him end up damaged. One way or another he destroys people. Who is he to say that he’s the one who is suffering when it’s he who does all the damage? 

Even as a child, he couldn’t help it. He thinks perhaps he inherited his sharpened tongue and lack of patience from his mother. She loved him in her own way but could never show it without first tearing him apart. Her biting words, and regular beatings. Prentiss had been right when she once said he was distrustful of women-- unfairly so. Not all women carry the hateful, spiteful heart his mother had. Very few had ever turned their rage at the world and their shortcomings into a personal and violent rage against him. He grew weary nonetheless. Better safe than sorry.

 At a young age, it became clear to him that there were few things, if anything, as important to his mother than appearances. On Sundays, she fussed over his clothes and his posture. She lectured him on table manners from the moment he could hold a fork. His room had to be spotless. His grades had to surpass average. Long before his brother was ever born, he learned how to live up to her expectations. But still, there was always something she could find him lacking in, an excuse to take her open fist or wooden spoon to his skin, a reason to send him to bed without dinner. He remembers crashing into the china cabinet trying to escape her one night. She was mortified on Monday when he had to walk into school on Monday with a cast around his arm. “Make sure they know this was your fault,” she told him. Perhaps I was built to fail, he had thought. She loves me and I embarrass her. I will only ever let her down. God, how disappointed she would be to see him now.  

Seconds feel like hours as the UNSUB leers expectantly. The man's mouth twists into a smile when he sees the tears forming in your waterline again. Aaron watches your fist clench presumably to distract yourself from the migraine that matches the pounding in his head, just as much as it is to pull your attention away from the hurtful lies he's about to weave. 

“You were supposed to have my back,” Arron spits with faux vitriol. “You had one job and couldn't even manage to do that”. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. 

“From the moment you showed up I knew you'd be a problem”. 

He continues to try to work his hands out from the binds. He can feel the knot loosening as he continues to buy the two of you time. “Aaron,” you beg, tears slipping down your cheeks now. 

“Following me around with some school girl crush. Look where we are now,” Aaron breathes. 

He can feel his father’s rage resting on his shoulders, as heavy as his hands were when he used to pat him on the back. It’s a quiet burning, far more silent than his mother’s anger, but it’s there and threatening him all the same. A silent shame; a fear induced by the knowledge that he’s failing but not being able to stop it. His father lived like a ghost in their home, just as Aaron has learned to haunt his life. He only ever raised his voice when he drank, but even then his hatred was self-directed. A sorrowful self-pity. A cry for help. The affairs, the gambling, the drinking; the man punished himself, stumbling home to a house with a vengeful wife, a silent boy, and a crying baby. It was a heart attack that finally killed him, but Aaron never doubted his father had stopped living long before that. 

Aaron breaks his own heart as he delivers each verbal blow. He hopes you understand. He prays that just maybe your concussion might leave the memories of this moment blurry. Selfishly, he begs you to forgive him, because he won’t forgive himself. 

He can see the way your wrists strain against your restraints. The UNSUB adjusts his grip on your hair as you struggle to distance yourself from him. Your eyelids flutter and he knows your vision must be swimming but you don’t give up. With a sadistic grin, the UNSUB wipes at the tear stain on your cheek with fake sympathy, grasping your jaw roughly he forces you to look straight at Aaron, “Poor girl… guess boss man doesn’t care about you after all. What a waste,” he sighs his breath heavy against your cheek, as he moves to hold the knife to your throat again, “She’s so pretty,” he directs his commentary at Aaron this time. 

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’ve slept with her. How couldn’t I when she was practically throwing herself at me?” The words taste bitter on his tongue as he speaks them. His stomach churns as he continues, “But what we have certainly isn’t love”. 

It couldn’t be further from the truth. Aaron grounds himself choosing to remember the quiet morning you two had shared only a few days earlier. Waking up without an alarm but with Jack sneaking in to jump up on the bed. As he watches you cry now he recalls how you had smiled so brightly at the little boy, ruffling his hair and cuddling Jack into your side. He had watched with a smile of his own as you bargained with his son, promising pancakes in exchange for ten more minutes of sleep on your shared day off. 

You crept into his heart so slowly he had hardly noticed. Until one day, he looked up from the bright pink sticky note you'd left on your recent report, reminding him not to work too hard; he knew, without a doubt, he was in love with you. 

For so much of his life, Aaron conditioned himself to expect a fight around every corner. He learned to make sacrifices from his happiness in fruitless attempts to keep peace. For the first time in forever he's been feeling like maybe, just maybe, he's enough. You’ve been more than patient with him; understanding his hesitance to open up to people again. You don't get upset with him for working late, but you scold him for not getting enough sleep and skipping meals. 

He smiles more. He cracks jokes the way he used to. You've helped him see the forest from the trees--  healed parts of him he didn’t know needed mending. He's tried to do the same for you. He's watched you open up and trust the team more. He's seen the way your confidence has grown and he can't take credit for your growth, but he's enamoured by the transformation just the same. 

You deserve better. You deserve better. You deserve better. The thought echoes in his head the same as it does most days. But now, it’s louder. The voice in his head matches the volume of the ringing in his ears, and the rushing sound of his pounding heart. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. He fights to remind himself, but the UNSUB is laughing now. Taunting you and your emotions, and there’s nothing Aaron can do but sit there and watch. He struggles to feign indifference, watching as you continue to make yourself smaller. It’s only then that he notices that you too are working your hands out of the rope that restrains you. The UNSUB was stupid enough to tie your wrist in front of you.

Aaron’s eyes focus on the bandaid wrapped around your index finger. You cut yourself making dinner last week. He could have sworn his heart melted when you turned to him holding your hand out, blood beading already. “Aaron, where do you keep your first aid kit?” you’d asked. Your brows furrowed, and your lips pouted. “In the bathroom, the cabinet under the sink,” he’d answered with no intention of letting you go off and tend to your wound alone. Instead, he guided you down the hall, his left hand looped in a gentle hold around your wrist, his other hand on your waist. 

Once you were sat on the countertop he took great care, making sure the wound was cleaned before he bandaged it. “My hero,” you teased, leaning in for a kiss. 

A simple cut he could manage to fix. Jack promised you could use as many of his Star Wars bandaids as you wanted while you healed as well. A little love and patience could make it better, a philosophy he adopted to heal Jack’s scraped knees, and schoolyard bruises. But the sight before him now is far worse than any kitchen mishap could be. 

Your nose is still bleeding. Bruises have already begun to form, red marks turning deep purple with every passing minute. He knows that your concussion is something you'll recover from. The contact burns from where the taser touched your skin will become new skin someday soon. The cuts and scrapes will scab over and then disappear. 

Aaron worries the damage he's done can never truly be ameliorated. Your compassion is unmatched. It’s what makes you a good agent, a good partner, and someone Jack can turn to. You are forgiving. God knows you've excused enough of his behaviour. But, he doesn't deserve to be absolved of this guilt. He will carry this day around in the darkest corner of his heart; the same place he holds the memory of Haley and how he failed her. The words “what we have certainly isn't love,” will linger uneffaced by time or kind words. 

The squeak of an old door opening piques Aaron's interest. The UNSUB doesn't react. Seemingly only interested in tracing the tear tracks on your cheeks. Your eyes are closing again. It's over now, he wants to tell you. He wants to hold you; comfort you; to apologise because you deserve to hear it anyway.

“Paul Simpson. FBI,” Morgan’s voice booms, “drop the knife and put your hands where I can see them”. Prentiss and Dave come to stand next to Morgan, their guns trained on the newly identified perpetrator. Aaron bites his tongue so hard he can taste blood-- it's all he can do to stop himself from bursting into a fit of bitter laughter. We win, he wants to say. 

Disarmed and handcuffed, Paul is escorted outside by Morgan and two members of the local police. Prentiss and Rossi make quick work of untying you and Aaron. 

“Aaron?” he can hear you mutter, breathy and quiet. 

“Yeah, I’m right here,” he promises kneeling at your side. Your eyes are glazed and unfocused as you nod and tip forward. Unconscious, your entire body falls forward into Prentiss’ arms. Aaron’s voice joins Rossi in calling for a paramedic. 

The doctors assure him that you’ll wake up soon. They dealt with his injuries quickly. Bruised ribs are the worst of his injuries. A cut at the back of his head and the taser burns were patched in only a few minutes, though he’ll readily admit he was far from a good patient. Too anxious to keep still much to the nurse’s dismay. 

You’re still asleep. A major concussion will have you out of the field for much longer than he knows you’ll be happy with. He makes a mental note to start setting aside some extra paperwork for when you inevitably start hounding him for something to do. With the lights in the room dimmed, and a comfortable silence settling he allows himself to indulge in the illusion that everything might be alright between you. 

With your hand in his, he breathes deeply trying to focus. He prays to a God he’s not sure he believes in. And when the quiet starts to get to him, he speaks out loud, as silly as he thinks he may look. He tells you about the phone call he had with Jack earlier and lets you know that Jack has a new painting he can’t wait to show you when you get home. Your hand squeezes his, encouraging him to keep talking.

“Aaron?” your eyelids flutter as you adjust to the light. The nurse had them turned to the dimmest setting but it’s still far more than you feel immediately capable of coping with. 

“Yeah, honey,” he affirms. You release the breath you’re holding your brow relaxing.  

“I love you,” you tell him. Your voice is steady and steadfast. Your resolve is impressive, unwavering and determined as you focus on making eye contact with him. “It’s not your fault,” you promise. He’s sure you don’t expect the weight on his shoulders to lighten instantaneously. You’ll tell him every day that he’s not to blame; intent on chiselling away at his guilt, shrinking it down before it manages to consume him. 

“I love you,” he swears. He knows it won’t squash any of the doubt he’s planted. Aaron knows there will soon be days that the niggling insecurity threatens to break what you’ve managed to build together; when the worry that you aren’t enough seems louder than it ever has before. He won’t blame you if you decide it isn’t worth the pain of staying with him. But, he’s hell-bent on loving you through it. He can only hope that it’s enough. 

[tenelkadjowrites]

Video Girl - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

📼 Summary: On the cusp of 1998, your quiet life working at a department store is upended when an attractive new coworker named Seonghwa awakens your desire for sexual exploration.

📼 Word count: 22k

📼 Genre and warnings: smut one shot. coworkers to lovers. fem pronouns for reader. use of a camera during sex. oral sex. unprotected sex. creampie.

📼 fic playlist here.

this fic is not meant to represent seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

Monday, October 6th, 1997

“What happened to the stack of CDs I put right there?”

               “Right where?”

               “Right there,” You gesture to the empty space that once housed a cluster of CDs that needed to be put on the shelf.

               Your coworker, San, pops his head up from where he had been busy sorting through one of the boxes of new inventory. His brows furrow while staring at the spot as if he could magically make the CDs appear.

               “What was it?”

               “The new Janet Jackson album.”

               “The new…oh shit, wait, I might’ve knocked it into this other box,” He ducks back down out of your view and you hear him wildly rummaging around.

               With a sigh, you slump against the shelf and stare out at the store which closed half an hour ago. Now, you’re stuck restocking new releases in the CD and VHS section for another hour before your shift ends. At least there are no customers, you think gratefully.

               “What’s it called?” San asks, still trying to find what he accidentally misplaced.

               “The Velvet Rope, I think,” You reply, wishing your feet didn’t hurt so much.

               The stack of CDs really isn’t that important but you just needed an excuse to take a break. It’s been a long day, working a double to cover for someone else, and you were sick of being here about three hours ago. The vest you have to wear while clocked in has long been discarded, tossed onto the counter as soon as the last customer finally got the hell out.

               “Wait, I found it,” San says with the same enthusiasm of someone completing a lifelong goal. He circles around the aisle, holding the pile of CDs, “Where should I put them?”

               “I’m just stacking them next to Mariah Carey,” You reply while taking them out of his hands and turning back to the shelf, “I don’t care.”

               “Fine by me.”

               You’ve worked with San for two years now and know him as well as one can know another coworker. He rarely missed a shift, probably because he enjoyed flirting with the women who wandered into the electronics section too much. There were two things San liked to do outside of work: work out and go clubbing with his best friend, Wooyoung. He was good looking to the point that even the ugly work mandated vest couldn’t take away from his jawline sculpted out of marble.

               “Thanks for helping me out,” San says.

               “It’s cool, dude. I really did not feel like working in my department tonight.”

               “You’re sick of organizing all the tube tops? Don’t see any of them you want for yourself?” He jokes, knowing how bored you are of working in the women’s clothing department.

               You make a face. “Ugh, as if.”

               San leans against the shelf, crossing his arms. “Did you hear about the new guy they hired for the men’s department?”

               “No,” You reply, uninterested.

               “I heard he’s good looking,” A thought strikes him and in an alarmed tone, he goes, “You don’t think he’s better looking than me, do you?”

               You shove the last CD onto the shelf although it teeters close to the edge. You stare at it, willing that it doesn’t fall and when the case stays in place, you finally turn your attention to San. “Why, worried you’re going to no longer be the Resident Hottie?”

               “Pfft, no. But…you’ll let me know, won’t you?”

               You lean down and pick up one of the boxes of CDs, balancing it on your knee until you get a better hold on it. “Why are you buggin about a new hire?”

               “I’m not buggin about him,” San protests quickly.

               “Yes, you totally are. I’m sure he’s nothing special. Don’t worry about it,” You turn away from San, getting ready to head down another aisle to finish putting the CDs away, “I can’t even remember the last time we hired someone who impacted me outside of asking and then promptly forgetting their name.”

               San looks mollified, taking comfort in the fact that everyone knows he is the hottest guy working in the store. You plop the box down, sorting through it to see what to put away first.

               The routine is comforting in that sort of mind numbing manner, the same pace of your life unchanging with no disruptions on the horizon. Tomorrow, you’d wake up and be here again to sort out ugly women’s clothing and clean up the fitting rooms after old ladies leave piles everywhere.

               That’s how it always goes, how it will continue to go.

Tuesday, October 7th, 1997

               “I don’t want this one,” A customer declares, thrusting a crushed velvet mini dress into your arms, “Or this.” A denim dress is tossed as the customer saunters off back into the aisles of clothing racks.

               You stand there, momentarily bunching the fabric in your hands with irritation before collecting your features into a pleasant expression. You go back to organizing the clothing from the fitting room racks to put them away. There are two hours left in your shift and your feet hurt yet again.

               “Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt,” A voice cuts cleanly through the music being piped into the building. It is deep, almost melodious and you look over your shoulder curiously, expecting to see a lost looking man trying to find something to buy for his wife or girlfriend.

               There is, in fact, a lost looking man standing there but his blue vest indicates he’s a coworker. The slightly confused expression combined with the outfit leads you to believe this is the man San had been talking about the other night.

               “I just started working here yesterday and the person who was supposed to be training me called out so I’m running the men’s department alone. I just had some questions and was hoping you could help me.”

               The man is tall and slender with black hair carefully combed. The ugly blue vest does nothing to take away from his uniquely pretty face – beautiful brown eyes with a strong nose, perfectly straight white teeth and full lips. In his hands is a small collection of clothing, long fingers splayed out across to stop it from tumbling onto the floor. His shoes look brand new, the shine making it obvious. A belt loops around his small waist, wearing simple dress slacks.

               You’re so used to going through the motions at work, typically zoned out that only something absolutely wild could shatter you from that usual feeling. Seeing someone so pretty against the backdrop of the woman’s department brings you up short.

               “Uhhhh,” You go before managing to collect yourself swiftly, replying, “Yeah, I can help you,” Your eyes fall onto his nametag, and you tentatively say his name aloud for the first time, “Seonghwa.”

               He smiles, a sort of strange smile in which he looks vastly uncomfortable, saying your own name after reading it from your tag. You trail after him, cutting through the organized racks of the women’s department into the general shitshow of the men’s.

               For some reason, it was impossible to keep a full team in the men’s section. They always quit or just stopped showing up. Over the two years you worked here, you normally didn’t speak to anyone in the men’s department too much since they never seemed to last long. That meant the department always looked like a group of wild school children tore through it regularly and today is no exception.

               Seonghwa takes you to a large box dumped unceremoniously onto the counter near the men’s fitting rooms. “I was told to process these returns but I don’t…actually know how to do that,” He admits bashfully.

               “Oh, it’s not difficult. I can show you.”

               He looks relieved, thanking you. As you begin to show Seonghwa the process, you sneak a glance at his face out of the corner of your eye. His eyelashes are long, his lips prettily plump and his skin seemingly perfect. What planet did this dude come from? You wonder, unsure how someone like him stumbled into working at a store like this.

               “You know how to fold the clothes the right way?” You ask at one point.

               “Yeah, I’ve worked retail before in my last town.”

               “Oh, you moved here?”

               Seonghwa looks up as you hand him a particularly ugly dress shirt made from a shiny fabric. In the horrendous fluorescent lights which make almost everyone look garish, he seems to be immune.

               “Yeah, just a couple weeks ago. Not far away, just a few towns over.” He quickly changes the subject off himself, “Have you worked here long?”

               “Around two years.”

               “Do you like it?”

               “It’s retail,” You reply dryly, “I think it is the same everywhere.”

               The corners of his lips turn up for a second. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

               Seonghwa turns his attention back to the pile of clothes, folding them swiftly. You watch the way his long fingers smooth out the fabric before expertly folding it. Every movement of his seems to be precise and completely under control, a far cry from yourself.

               “Are you settling in okay then?” You ask, trying to wiggle more information out of this professional handsome guy who for some reason is working at this shitty store instead of modeling overseas somewhere.

               He carefully folds another shirt while replying, “Yeah, I’m doing alright. Have you always lived here?” Another deflection. It’s growing obvious Seonghwa doesn’t want to talk about himself.

               “Yeah, I have. It’s really nothing special though. Pretty generic place.” You study his face while asking the next question, “Why did you pick here?”

               Without missing a beat, he goes, “It was convenient. What do you like the most about living here?”

               You find his answer curious but decide asking Seonghwa questions is pointless because he only swiftly tries to put the conversation back on you.

               Stumped by his question, mostly because nothing really comes to mind, you finally settle on, “The weather is alright.”

               He tilts his face in your direction at your answer, one eyebrow slightly raised. “That’s it?”

               You shrug, “Yeah, I guess.”

               His gaze is heavy on you, a beat too long before turning his attention back to folding the clothes. You swallow hard, wondering why you feel so unnerved. As beautiful as Seonghwa is, he has the sort of intense presence that knocks you a little off balance, almost as if he can see some part of yourself that most people cannot.

               “Alright, finished.” His voice brings you back to the moment as he picks up the clothing, “Do I just put them back now?”

               “Yup, that’s it. Do you want me to help you?”

               “No, I got it. I should start learning where everything goes,” He turns to go and then stops, looking over his shoulder, “Thanks for your help. I appreciate it.”

               “It’s no biggie. You can pop over again if you have any other questions.”

               He smiles again, exposing the most perfect teeth you’ve ever seen. “Alright, thanks. Talk to you later.”

               You give him a small wave, turning around to head back to your section, wondering why you feel so thrown off balance over someone you’ve known for ten minutes.

*

               “So, how is he?”

               “Who?”

               “Don’t play coy with me,” San says, leaning closer to you, “The new guy.”

               You’re in the break room, poking at the unappealing lunch you brought. The break room is covered in tacky motivational posters, a bulletin board filled with random flyers about things like worker safety, requesting time off and a garage sale ad. A small TV in the corner shows the local news. The image, as usual, is extra grainy due to the bad signal off the cheap antenna. There is no break from the harsh fluorescents even in this room.

               “You saw him, didn’t you?” He presses.

               You relent and reply with a casual, “Yeah, I saw him.”

               “And? What’s he like? Is he hotter than me?”

               Another noncommittal shrug. “He’s…different. He’s friendly, don’t get me wrong, but he seems distant. I guess he moved here from a town nearby. That’s all I know about him.” San is staring at you with a serious expression on his face. You shift uncomfortably in the hard chair, finally glaring at him. “What?”

               He points at you sternly. “You do think he’s fine.”

               “What?” You bluster. “Where the hell did you get that idea?”

               San gestures wildly. “It’s written all over your face! We talk about every new hire in detail and now suddenly, you give me a couple of sentences. What spell did he cast on you?”

               “No spell,” You say crossly, irritated at somehow being too obvious when believing you played it cool, “You’re caring too much about my opinion.”

               He slumps back in his chair, crossing his arms, pouting. With a sigh, you push your meal away and turn to face him.

               “Come on, dude. You’re giving a new hire way too much power. Everyone knows you’re all that and a bag of chips. You think the confused old ladies who still don’t understand what a cordless phone is are not gonna be charmed by you? That they’re suddenly going to head to the men’s department instead?”

               “They tip me, you know,” San says defensively, “That’s why it’s important to me. They give me a couple of bucks when I finish explaining what a portable CD player is compared to their 8 track.”

               You skirt around the fact it is against company police to take cash tips from customers, opting to continue reassuring him instead.  “Don’t give someone else so much power. I mean, look at the size of your arms. No one in the store can compare with that.”

               “That’s true,” He says begrudgingly, “Fine. And I’ll give the new guy a shot only cuz you think he’s fly.”

               “I don’t – will you stop –” You sputter.

               San stands up, snatching his work vest off the table and slipping it back on. “Alright, I’m going. Talk to you later.”

               You say bye, now alone in the break room. Normally, you relish the quiet moments here without a coworker talking your ear off. But you’re longing for a pointless discussion, some sort of distraction from the fact that you’ve spent ten minutes around Seonghwa and are seemingly attracted to him.

               You’ve fallen into such a routine between work, occasionally going out on the weekends, and watching TV that suddenly finding someone hot is like an electric bolt to your chest. Things have been quiet for so long, in both your mind and life, that the last thing you want to deal with is forming an attraction to a coworker.

               Luckily, Seonghwa seems intent to keep mostly to himself. The emotional distance should help, you think, should make it easier not to get swept up in some guy.

Wednesday, October 8th, 1997

               Once it hits 4pm, all you care about is punching out and getting home. You’re so wrapped up in this that when you turn around to dart out of the back room, you collide immediately into Seonghwa.

               It’s like striking a wall. Even though he’s slender, his body is firm, resulting in you ungracefully flailing for a moment. His hands go to your upper arms to steady you, allowing yourself to recover from toppling back against the wall.

               “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” You’re embarrassed by being so spaced out.

               Seonghwa, who you have successfully avoided all day, doesn’t seem to be impacted by the collision. He’s still in his work vest but today he’s wearing a long sleeve black shirt. His hands rest on your upper arms and your eyes drop to his fingers, taking note of how they look against the fabric of your clothing.

               He clears his throat gently, a mild noise of embarrassment, before dropping his hands back to his sides. “No, I should have let you know I was behind you. My shift is done too so I was just punching out.”

               You shuffle to the side, letting Seonghwa finish up. Your heart is beating quickly in that annoying way you’ve been trying to avoid since your last relationship. You should just say goodbye now and head out. But your feet refuse to obey and you find yourself lingering to walk out with Seonghwa.

               After shaking out of his work vest and tossing it unceremoniously into his locker, he leans against it, watching as you fumble with your own lock.

               “How was your day?”

               “Uh, it was alright. What about you? You settling in okay with everything?” You successfully open your locker, shoving your own work vest in there and grabbing your bag.

               Turning to meet Seonghwa’s gaze, your eyes unintentionally flick down to his torso. His long sleeve shirt fits him a little too well, is a little too snug, and you’re now acutely aware of his small waist on top of the fact he’s definitely in shape.

               “Yeah, it’s going well. A bit disorganized but it’s fine.”

               The two of you are leaving the backroom together, cutting through the electronics section. San is milling around in front of a display of Tamagotchis which is already half empty. He glances up and notices you, waving.

               “Hey,” He goes, “Oh, you’re the new guy, right?”

               You’re secretly hoping San doesn’t embarrass you. Even though you denied thinking Seonghwa is attractive yesterday, you know that San doesn’t believe you for a second.

               Seonghwa introduces himself and then glances at the display. “These things go fast, don’t they?”

               “Tell me about it. I end up having to restock the display every shift,” San replies disgruntled, “I don’t get it. An electronic pet?”

               “I had a Tamagotchi,” Seonghwa muses, “It kept beeping while I was sleeping so I shoved it in a drawer and forgot about it.”

               “What happened to it?” San asks.

               “It died,” He replies seriously, “I felt pretty guilty.”

               “I’m sorry to hear that,” San says just as grimly.

               You glance between the two men and their bonding moment over a dead Tamagotchi before clasping your hands together. “Okay, well, this has been truly touching but I don’t wanna miss my bus. See you tomorrow, San.”

               As you turn to leave, you hear Seonghwa mumble a quick goodbye before catching up with you. “You take the bus to work?”

               “Yeah, no car.”

               “I can drop you off at your place if you’d like.”

               You glance at him in surprise. “You don’t even know if I’m completely out of your way or not. We could live on opposite sides of one another. On top of that, how familiar are you with the town? You got a map in your car or something to help you get home afterwards?”

               Seonghwa looks perplexed. “I guess I didn’t think of that.”

               The doors glide open as you step out into the late afternoon air. The temperature has dropped since this morning, a chilly bite that cuts through your t-shirt. Seonghwa had the right idea with the long sleeve, you think. Feeling flustered by his invitation to drive you home, you stop walking and turn to face him.

               “Sorry, I didn’t mean to come across so harsh. I just wouldn’t want you going out of your way on my account.”

               “I get that,” He replies, a wind kicking up and blowing some of his hair into his eyes which he impatiently brushes back, “But I really don’t mind. I need to learn where everything is anyway.”

               Chewing on your bottom lip, you fight the urge just to agree. Logically, you should just take the bus home. If you’re trying to steadfastly ignore the fact that Seonghwa is attractive then obviously being in his car will not help things. But on the other hand, being alone with him also sounds too good.

               “Alright, fine. But if you get lost, I warned you.”

               He smiles and you can feel it in your chest. Following him to his car, which looks as though it has seen better days, you get into the passenger seat and toss your bag on the floor, looking around. A pair of small dice swing off the rearview mirror, the only decoration in the car. There is nothing else to learn about Seonghwa in here – the car is neat, clean and smells nice.

               He stretches out his long legs in his seat, starting the car. You are trying very hard not to stare at him, not notice how smooth his skin is nor how his muscles pull against his long sleeve shirt.

               You open your mouth to tell him your address when suddenly Wannabe by the Spice Girls begins to blare out of his car speakers. Startled into silence, you can only watch as Seonghwa looks mortified, quickly slamming his hand down onto the eject button which spits the CD out of the player in his car dashboard.

               He grabs the CD swiftly while going, “Uh, I didn’t know – I forgot – ‘’

               “Seonghwa, it’s fine,” You reassure him, “It would be stranger at this point if you didn’t own that CD.”

               He turns his body to grab something off the back seat, plopping the CD holder into his lap. Quickly, he opens it, flips to a random page with a spot available and hastily shoves the disc inside before closing the big binder of albums. Seonghwa seems to collect himself after a second or two, returning the binder to the backseat and quietly clearing his throat while turning on the radio. Sunday Morning by No Doubt quietly fills the car.

               “Alright,” He says, neatly skirting around the Spice Girls incident, his hands wrapping around the steering wheel, “Help me get to your place.”

               You give him a couple of directions and soon enough Seonghwa is on a main road. You make a mental note to eventually Map Quest some stuff for him later so he can learn the town layout faster.

               Wanting to fill the silence before your brain gets swept up in the mental image of sitting in his lap, you go, “Are you excited for Halloween? Hopefully we don’t get stuck working late.”

               “Do you usually do something for Halloween?”

               Of course he deflects immediately. You should have known better than to ask Seonghwa a question about himself. “Sometimes. Last year I went to a party but it was a total buzzkill. I don’t know what I’m doing this year.”

               “Do you like horror movies?”

               “They’re okay. Do you?”

               “Yeah, I like them.” Wow, finally an answer out of him! Progress.

               “Oh, wait, turn right at this light,” You say as Seonghwa shifts into the other lane.

               At the red light, he looks out the side window and says, “So far, this is near my own place. Maybe we don’t live too far away from each other.”

               “Maybe.” Did you dare ask another question? “Do you live alone?”

               Seonghwa hesitates for a moment and then replies, “Yeah, I do. What about you?”

               You spare an extra second to study his face. Every interaction with Seonghwa, while friendly enough, gives you the feeling that he is constantly holding back in some respect. Aspects of himself are carefully hidden, making you wonder what he is like behind the perfectly pleasant façade he shows at work.

               “Yeah. Do you like living alone?”

               “It’s a little different than what I am used to,” Seonghwa says carefully, glancing at you for a moment.

               You point to a road ahead. “You can turn down here.” After he does so, you ask, “What are you used to?”

               Seonghwa’s hands tighten around the wheel. You get the sense he is struggling to answer, torn between talking about himself and staying private.

               “Listen, Seonghwa,” You begin, “I get the sense you really don’t like talking about yourself. That’s fine. I don’t want to come off all ‘hey, tell me your life story’ and shit. I know we just met.”

               There is another red light and the car stops. Seonghwa tilts his face to look at you. You’re struck again by how handsome you find him and how his intense gaze startles you into silence.

               “It has nothing to do with you. I don’t mean to seem so closed off.” He turns his attention back to the road, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel before saying, “I moved here because my girlfriend and I broke up recently. I’m not used to living alone because I lived with her.”

               “Oh,” You mumble as the light turns green, feeling awkward, “I didn’t mean to – I mean…”

               “It’s okay,” He reassures you, his attention back on the road, “I’m a private person but I don’t want to come off rude.”

               Quietly, you point out the next turn. It doesn’t take long to stop at the small apartment complex you’ve lived in the past year. Grabbing your bag, anxious to get out of the car after fumbling straight into making Seonghwa feel as if he needed to explain himself, you stop just in time to remember he might not know how to get to his own place.

               “I can figure it out,” He claims while you rummage in your bag for a stray sheet of paper and pen.

               “No, no, you were nice enough to drop me off. What’s your address?” After he says it, you scribble down rough directions that he can follow and thrust the paper in his direction. “Here, this should help.”

               When he takes the paper from you, his fingers brush against yours. Your breath catches at the small touch.

               “Listen, I meant what I said,” Seonghwa says, “You don’t need to feel bad.”

               “Yeah but I didn’t want you to talk about anything negative like a breakup. That is way uncool of me. It isn’t any of my business why you moved here or who you live with.”

               “True but I also don’t wanna come off like a jerk.”

               “You weren’t, I just…” You’re struggling to find a safe sentence to land on. How did you not say that you wanted to learn more about him because you were immediately attracted and therefore curious? “Wanted to be friendly. Since we work together.”

               “We’re chilling, don’t worry about it. Let me walk you to your door, at least.”

               “You don’t need to do that,” You protest even though your heart skips a beat.

               “I don’t mind.”

               You know that you’re probably supposed to refuse again until Seonghwa relents and even though you still have anxiety from the misstep of having him open up about his past, your desire to be around him for longer wins out. You nod in acceptance, getting out of the car and rubbing your arms in the cold air, reminding yourself to bring a hoodie tomorrow.

               Seonghwa circles around the car, waiting for you to shuffle over. The apartment complex isn’t anything special, just two floors and a run down looking pool in the middle that is currently closed for fall and winter. You lead him up to the second floor, stopping in front of your apartment. Seonghwa is peering over the railing to look at the pool. Some of his black hair falls in front of his eyes. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his pants to keep them warm. Your eyes drop to his slender waist and you swallow hard. Everything about this man seems to have been specially created to drive you up the wall.

               “You ever use the pool?”

               “Not really. Why, do you like swimming?”

               “I do. My apartment complex doesn’t have a pool though.”

               Without thinking, you offer, “Well, when the pool reopens, you can come here.”

               He looks over at you, something flickering across his eyes quickly. Straightening up, he nods, giving you a small smile. “Alright, that sounds sweet.”

               Shifting the weight of your bag onto your other shoulder, you go, “Well…thanks again for the ride. Try not to get lost on the way home. Do you work tomorrow?”

               “I do.”

               “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

               Seonghwa lingers for a moment. Once again, you get the feeling he is restraining from doing or saying something that might expose too much of himself. It is a curious thing, you think, especially given that you just assumed the whole ex-girlfriend thing is why he was being so reserved. Maybe that’s just him as a person though. Just really private and constantly filtering his behavior through a thousand nets.

               “Alright, talk to you later.”

               “See you later, alligator,” You reply and immediately chastised yourself for ending on such a corny line.

               Seonghwa turns around, walking back towards the staircase. You trace the curve of his shoulders underneath his shirt, getting a brief mental image of your hands flat against the top of them while you’re under his body. Shaking your head to fend off the fantasy, you turn away.

               He’s probably incredibly boring in bed. He’s an attractive guy but he’s so mild mannered and pleasant in an easily digestible way. Why get distracted into some annoying crush when the end result won’t be worth it?

Thursday, October 9th, 1997

               “Wassup?” San plops down in the chair next to yours while gesturing at the TV. “You watch this?”

               Once again, it is mid-afternoon in the break room. You’re eating lunch, staring at the grainy image on the TV that is showing a Buffy the Vampire Slayer ad for the new episode on Monday night.

               “No, do you?”

               “Nah but Yeosang records it every week to watch.”

               Yeosang is San’s roommate. That information doesn’t really surprise you seeing as he also watches The X-Files religiously.

               “Well, I bet he will enjoy this episode,” You squint, looking at the ad closer, “About a gigantic reptile thing in a frat house.”

               It is at that moment that Seonghwa steps into the break room. He is wearing a short sleeve black shirt today along with the ugly blue vest and a pair of black jeans. San waves when he enters.

               “Hey, dude. Are you on break?”

               “Yeah, I am.”

               San kicks out the chair on the other side of you, motioning to it. “Wanna chill with us?” When Seonghwa isn’t looking, he winks at you. You fight the urge to punch his shoulder.

               Seonghwa nods, stopping to get something out of the fridge before settling in next to you. He catches your eye and gives you a small smile. Your cheeks feel warm so you turn your attention back to your sandwich but you can still feel his gaze.

               “Damn, I wanna see this,” San interrupts whatever the hell was passing in between Seonghwa and yourself.

               “I think the title is kinda goofy though,” Seonghwa remarks.

               “You don’t like I Know What You Did Last Summer? I think it sounds a little mysterious. You know, it’s by the same writer as Scream,” San nudges you, “What do you think?”

               “I think I haven’t seen Scream so that sentence means nothing to me.”

               “Whoa, what, you haven’t seen Scream?” Seonghwa’s attention is back on you, “The sequel comes out soon. You should watch it. It’s really good.”

               Slightly desperate for something new to discuss with Seonghwa that didn’t involve asking questions leading to awkward moments, you leap at this opportunity. “Alright. I guess I can see if Blockbuster has it.”

               San scoffs. “Are you serious? I’ve been asking you to watch Scream for months – ow!” He winces as your foot collides with his shin under the table.

               Seonghwa frowns. “Are you alright?”

               “Yes,” San wheezes, “I always forget about the metal bar under the table. Just whacked my leg against it.”

               “He’s fine,” You say quickly, shooting daggers at him.

               Seonghwa tilts his body in your direction and goes, “I own Scream. I can bring the VHS tape tomorrow if you’re also working.”

               “I don’t have a day off until Sunday so I’ll be here. But are you sure? I don’t want you to lend me anything…”

               “Yeah, it’s okay. Don’t go to Blockbuster. I always do and then forget and end up owing them an annoying amount of late fees.”

               San has quickly forgotten the shin kicking incident and nods in agreement. “He’s right. Avoid it if you can.”

               “I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

               “Okay, well, thanks.”

               “Hey, when you’re done watching it, can I borrow it? Yeosang still hasn’t seen it either,” San goes, “He’s so bad at watching movies.”

               “Yeah, that’s no problem,” Seonghwa replies, “I’m still unpacking but I know where it is.”

               “Great, thanks dude,” San exclaims before turning his attention back to the TV.

               San says something else but you don’t really hear him because Seonghwa is still looking at you. Even though Seonghwa is friendly yet distant, your body seems to react to him in a way that takes you by surprise every time you’re close. It’s the warmth of his body so near combined with his toned arms and perfect skin. The effect is slightly dizzying. Toss in the fact you haven’t had a crush on someone since your last relationship ended three years ago, you are struggling between thinking his personality doesn’t match up with yours and wanting to throw yourself at him. The entire thing is confusing.

               Seonghwa’s lips are slightly parted as if he was going to say more but falls silent while staring at you. There is something brewing in his eyes, something you haven’t seen before. It’s intense and your stomach swoops as if leaping off a cliff. His hand presses down hard against his knee to steady himself. He suddenly looks away towards the window, cutting the moment short.

               You’re breathless, wondering what the hell that had been about. The way Seonghwa looked at you mingling with the feeling that he was reigning himself in, closing something off – you don’t know what to make of it. Could it be he also is attracted to you and is trying to hide it? In all your interactions with him, he’s been kind and considerate but nothing indicated he saw you in a physical way.

               You force yourself into focusing on whatever San is saying, trying to push all the swirling emotions out of your mind.

Friday, October 10th, 1997

               You sigh, plopping down on your bed, stretching out. Work today was a chore but Seonghwa had given you his copy of Scream. With San bothering you to watch it quickly so he could let Yeosang borrow it, you figured you’d just watch it tonight before going to sleep.

               Leaning over the side of your bed, you rummage through your bag until your fingers feel the edge of the VHS tape. Pulling it out, you gaze at the cover for a few seconds, lost in thought. You’re thinking about how Seonghwa looked today right before his shift ended. You were on your break and he was at the lockers, tugging a hoodie over his head. His white shirt lifted up so slightly that if you hadn’t been already staring at him, you wouldn’t have noticed the quick glimpse of a few inches of hard abdomen. That was enough to send your body into overdrive, something you still hadn’t calmed down from when he came over to hand you the Scream VHS.

               “Thanks,” You mumbled quickly, hoping that he didn’t have the ability to read your mind.

               “Not a problem. You can just give it to San as soon as you’re done with it. I’m not in any hurry to get it back.”

               He gave you that same easy going smile, the type of smile that made you wonder what he would be like if his kind demeanor cracked and he had you pushed against a wall with his lips against your neck.

               “Right, yeah, cool.” You said in what you hoped was a casual tone.

               When he turned around to leave, your eyes lingered on his waist before turning your attention back to your food, the VHS tape in your lap like a heavy weight.

               Dragging yourself back to the present moment, you pull the tape out of the sleeve, finding it a bit curious there isn’t a sticker with the movie name on it. You wiggle to the edge of your bed, shoving the tape into the player. There are a few seconds of VHS tracking and then the picture pops into view.

               You’re staring at a palm tree against a blue sky, slightly out of focus. The tape goes grainy for a moment and then the camera swoops downward. Someone’s face comes into view, filling up the lens before their hand pushes the camera away while they are laughing.

               Uh, okay, this is not what I thought the movie was gonna look like, you think while squinting at the TV.

               “Can you get the camera out of my face?” comes a familiar voice.

               “Stop, you love when the camera is on,” A woman replies coyly.

               The shot snaps into focus then, showing Seonghwa against a wall. He is wearing a sleeveless white and blue striped shirt, his black hair ruffling in the wind. The sight of him is like a punch to your chest, knocking the air out of your lungs. His smile is bright, completely different from the ones you’ve seen at work. It is unguarded. Even his posture is relaxed with none of the slightly stiff professional nature he has at work.

               Entranced, you can only stare as the scene continues. Seonghwa runs his long fingers through his hair, his smile turning into a grin.

               “So do you,” He counters.

               You can hear the sound of ocean waves just off screen. He turns his face to the side, the camera lingering on this for a moment before it lowers for a second, showing a wooden pathway. It cuts suddenly, immediately shifting into another scene.

               Seonghwa is standing on the beach now, slipping his shirt off and tossing it onto the blanket that is on the sand. You didn’t think it was possible to see him look so comfortable in his own skin. He doesn’t seem to be shy at all, staring at the camera with a challenging look on his face. On top of that, the sight of Seonghwa shirtless is bowling you over. He is toned, tanned and has muscles you want to press your hands against.

               “What?” He goes.

               “Nothing,” The woman says, “I can’t film you getting into the water?”

               “You’re just filming me undressing.”

               “Well, it’s not the first time, is it?”

               He rolls his eyes but there is a good natured expression on his face. He shoves his thumbs into his swim trunks, tugging them down half an inch before exploding into laughter and turning around, jogging towards the water.

               Another cut. New scene. This has to be him and his ex. I need to turn this off. It’s obviously not meant for me.

Seonghwa is sitting at a table in a diner, looking over a menu. He raises his eyes, making eye contact with the camera then he laughs again. He looks relaxed, his smile bright and posture resting comfortably against the booth.

“You look wicked good tonight,” The woman remarks and Seonghwa playfully shakes the menu in her direction.

“Good thing you’re getting it on camera, right?”

“Exactly.” She zooms in a little more. “Do you want to tell the imaginary audience what we’ll be filming later?”

“Oh, well, I think the imaginary audience knows by now what we like to film,” He says with a mock seriousness that makes your heart constrict. “Isn’t that right?”

The woman giggles and the scene cuts suddenly. This time the camera is in a bedroom with the lens focusing on Seonghwa once again. He is shirtless, close to the camera.

               “You gonna keep it on while I fuck you?” He says in a low voice.

               The woman doesn’t reply, just giggles.

               Seonghwa’s eyes drop for a moment before locking back onto the camera. You’ve never seen such an expression on his face – a combination of lust and reveling in the fact the entire thing is being filmed. It is as if the exterior you’ve seen on him since he began to work at the store is all bullshit, a lie in which he hides behind, and you’re seeing him for real now through the lens.

               “Maybe I’ll film you when my cock is down your throat,” He continues, “You want that?”

               The woman titters again before going, “Yeah, I want that.”

               Seonghwa grins, moving back a little so that his entire body is in view. The low light makes it difficult to fully make him out but you can see the curve of his shoulders, the stiffness against the fabric of his boxers, and the way he motions for her to come closer.

               “Then give me the camera and get on your knees,” He says sternly while lowering one hand towards his boxers, starting to pull them down –

               The sight of Seonghwa about to expose himself finally snaps you out of your shock. Quickly, you lean over and smash the eject button on the tape, yanking it out of the machine and dropping it to the floor as if it is going to burn you.

               You stare at it, breathless, your mind spinning. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where that tape was going to lead. After all, people still talked about the tape of Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee; it had been covered in media for months and was still often a topic of conversation.

               You are aware Seonghwa just moved and the tape must be misplaced. Do you tell him? Do you just pretend you watched Scream and not mention it? But San wanted to borrow the copy as well. Obviously, he couldn’t get his hands on it. You could lie and say the tape didn’t play. But the excuse wouldn’t work because Seonghwa would try it on his own player and realize what was really on it. You could pretend you lost the tape and destroy it. But that also didn’t seem right. It wasn’t your tape, after all, and eventually Seonghwa could put the pieces together and believe you kept the tape to watch or worse. It felt as if the only choice would be to come clean to Seonghwa and let him know he accidentally gave you the wrong tape.  

               On the other side of things, you couldn’t believe how different Seonghwa was on camera. There was such a relaxed, casual demeanor to him. He seemed more at ease in front of the lens than in reality. For the first time since meeting him, it felt that you truly saw him. The quiet confidence, no hint of shyness in the way he spoke or removed his clothes. On top of that, his body was absolutely banging in a way that made your thighs clench and hands bunch up in your blanket.

               Then give me the camera and get on your knees.

               You think about that moment in the break room when Seonghwa’s eyes were heavy on yours and his hand gripped his knee. The little bit of his true personality coming through before being shoved back down, perhaps? Just an hour ago, you thought everything about Seonghwa had been figured out. Not anymore.

               Your mind flashes back to his smile and the expression on his face while the camera filmed. Unguarded. Exposed. Hiding behind nothing and leaving everything, including sex, on a VHS tape.

               What would such a thing be like? A small voice in your head wonders.

Saturday, October 11th, 1997

               “Hey, good morning.”

               You jump out of your skin, slamming your locker door shut and turning to see Seonghwa standing there.

               “Hi, Seonghwa! How’s it hanging?!” You exclaim loudly with such false cheer that you inwardly wince.

               Seonghwa outwardly winces. “You’re at an excitement level I can’t quite reach given we are at work.”

               Then give me the camera and get on your knees.

               You make a garbled noise in response, eyes darting all over the place. You can’t stare at Seonghwa’s face because then you think of his unguarded smile. You can’t stare at his chest because then the mental image of his abs pops into view. You can’t even look at his small waist, something that had been giving you great pleasure to sneak glances at during the week, because you’re picturing the way he was tugging down his boxers.

               “Are you…uh…feeling alright?”

               “Yeah, just didn’t sleep well,” You say quickly, “Tired.”

               His eyes move to your locker and he gestures to it. “Oh, did you watch Scream?”

               Your head turns sharply. The VHS tape is poking out of the top of your bag. You stammer out a collection of gibberish, stalling for time. You didn’t want to have this conversation right now; you had been picturing it after work, maybe in his car or something. Not in the break room before it hits ten in the morning.

               Seonghwa looks perplexed once again. You don’t blame him.

               Finally, you settle on, “I would really like to discuss the tape with you.”

               His features brighten. “Yeah, sure.��

               “After work?”

               Confusion once again but he slowly replies, “Alright.”

               You scurry past him, shouting your goodbye while exiting the room and hurrying to the women’s department. Seonghwa’s smile from the tape is still blazing across your brain in vivid colour and no matter how much you try not to think about it, you can still see the lascivious look in his eyes as he began to remove his boxers.

               You’ll tell him after work, you think desperately, even though it will be mortifying and he most likely will never speak to you again.

               As long as you get through this shift without losing your cool, everything should be fine. Just don’t think about him on the tape. Don’t think about him having sex and recording it. Don’t think about how relaxed he looked. Don’t think about how sexy his body looked.

               Should be simple.

*

               You manage to avoid Seonghwa the entire day, including an awkward moment where you wedged yourself into a clothing rack as he walked by. You were worried about blurting out what was on the tape in the middle of his work shift or even worse – admitting that you were curious about how he filmed himself doing such things and how it felt to let go with a camera on. In quiet moments when a customer wasn’t bothering you, your mind travels back to him like an overplayed record.

               You have a difficult time wrapping your head around the Seonghwa on the tape and the Seonghwa in reality. Always polite, yet distant, always kind but professional, in the few days you’ve known him, you’ve bounced between wanting him physically and believing his personality would keep a deeper connection from potentially forming.

               But on the tape, you viewed Seonghwa as to how he truly is. There is no façade when the camera is on him. You see him unfiltered. The hint of mischief in his smile, that sense of freedom when he was jogging towards the waves, his quiet confidence when he was talking dirty – why were such things hidden in his day to day life?

               By the time the end of your shift comes, you are anxious to get the tape and tell Seonghwa you need to talk. Since you were finishing shifts at the same time, you figured you’d wait for him in the break room. It is a little past seven by the time you enter. The break room has a couple of employees milling around but not San, who snuck out an hour earlier in order to hit up the club with Wooyoung.

               Standing in front of your locker, you reach for the lock but as your fingers graze the cold metal, you realize with a jolt it is unlocked. With a small sigh, you realize San must have opened it earlier. You had a bottle of ibuprofen in your locker that he would use occasionally and eventually gave him your locker combination so he would stop bothering you.

               But as you reach for your bag, your eyes narrow. Heart thudding, you rummage around in it with growing panic. The VHS tape isn’t in the bag. The tape isn’t in the bag.

               “What the fuck?” You hiss in between your teeth, your heart plummeting.

               You are about to upend the bag onto the floor when Seonghwa’s voice cuts through. “Hey, finishing up too?”

               Surprised, you jump, flattening your back against the locker, clutching the bag against your chest. “Seonghwa! Hey! Hi!”

               “Lots of enthusiasm for work today,” He notes, removing his work vest. His slender fingers twist the dial on his locker. You stare at them, momentarily transfixed. He glances at you. “What?”

               “Nothing. No, that’s a lie. Seonghwa, I seem to have misplaced the tape.”

               “Oh, Scream? Nah, San came to me earlier and said he noticed it was in your locker. I told him you watched it and he grabbed it before he left to give to his roommate. He said he was cutting out early to head to the club or something. Yeosang…that’s his roommate, right? San mentioned that Yeosang was gonna watch it with him and everyone else later tonight.”

               Every word out of his mouth, every word tumbling out of his beautifully plush lips, makes you want to sink into the planet’s core. The panic that had been wiggling in your brain while looking for the tape is now washing over your body like a cold wave.

               You picture Yeosang, whom you have only met briefly before, hitting play on the video. A room filled with his friends plus San and Wooyoung. The video starting, them seeing Seonghwa. How long would they let the tape run? Probably to where you ejected it. Enough for them to know what is on that tape, enough for them to know what Seonghwa does for fun.

               You drop your bag to the floor in shock, reaching out for Seonghwa. Your hand grips the front of his sweater. His eyes widen in surprise.

               “Seonghwa,” You say in a choked voice.

               He looks a bit flustered, eyes darting over your shoulder to see if anyone else is seeing this. “H-hey, I…” He swallows hard. “I…”

               “Seonghwa, that movie isn’t on the tape.”

               His nerves, possibly because he thought you were literally throwing yourself at him during work, are now washed away in confusion. “What do you mean?”

               “Scream is not on that tape. It’s…something else,” You steel yourself, plunging forward, “It’s a home video. Of you and your ex.”

               The colour immediately drains from Seonghwa’s face. Your grip loosens on his shirt, watching as he goes through a myriad of facial expressions before settling on something that looks blandly neutral. You’re amazed at how quickly he collects himself.

               “I didn’t watch it,” You say hurriedly, talking a mile a minute, “Well, I watched like 3 or 4 minutes but then it was starting to get a little….anyway, I shut it off then. I was going to tell you. I brought it back today so I could tell you after work. I just didn’t think San was going…okay, it’s fine. It’s fine. We’ll page him. He’ll know to call here, right? I’ll just page him.”

               Seonghwa takes a slow deep breath. You can’t tell if he wants to scream, cry, or punch something. His calm demeanor does nothing to relax your own nerves. You don’t know what he is thinking. You go back to digging through your bag, pulling out the tiny phone number and address book you keep in there. Quickly, you head to the break room phone, yanking it off the receiver while flipping through the book to find San’s beeper number. You page him, hurriedly inputting the phone number of the store before hanging up.

               “Okay, we’ll just wait here for a few minutes. He’ll call back.”

               You aren’t sure if Seonghwa heard you. Looking over your shoulder, you see him standing in the same exact spot, his back to you.

               “Uh…Seonghwa?” You say tentatively. “Are you freaking out?”

               He turns around then, his features still amazingly collected in an extremely calm appearance. “Do you know where San lives?”

               “Where he lives? Yeah, I do. Oh, you want to go there?” You glance at the clock. “Yeah, I mean, it might be too early for him to be at the club. But shouldn’t we wait in case he calls?”

               “No,” He says curtly, “You’ll come with me and show me where his place is.”

               “Oh – oh, okay. Yeah, sure. Let’s go.”

               You can hardly keep up with Seonghwa’s long strides, scampering behind him as you exit the store and into the chilly weather. Tightening the hoodie you’ve managed to shove yourself into while following him, you get in his car silently. Even though Seonghwa is amazingly calm, you can tell he is on edge. The veneer he portrays to the world is on thin ice and you can almost feel the roiling tension under his skin. He starts the car and the radio plays softly.

               Pulling out of the parking spot, Seonghwa gets to the exit and grunts, “Tell me how to get to his place.”

               “Okay,” You say, adding on, “You’ll take a left at the light,” You hesitate before going, “Seonghwa, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.’’

               His hands tighten on the wheel, the only indication of his stress. “It isn’t your fault. I should have checked the tape before I gave it to you. Due to my move and breakup, things are all over the place. I don’t even know how it ended up in the Scream case.”

               “Even so, I should have turned it off immediately. I just…” What do you even say? I was entranced by how different you were on camera. I’m deeply attracted to you and I want to get to know the version of you that was on the tape. I’m curious about what you do for fun. Maybe a little too intrigued for my own good.

               “It’s fine,” Seonghwa interrupts you swiftly, “I really don’t want to discuss the tape while this is on.” He gestures to the radio which is currently playing Supermodel (You Better Work). “Just a little too ridiculous for me right now.”

               You fall silent, the words tumbling around in your chest. “A right up here,” You mumble after a couple of minutes.

               You know it is a morally grey area to keep thinking about Seonghwa in the bedroom, talking openly about getting his dick sucked and filming it. You know it’s wrong to wonder what the rest of the tape looked like. Your curiosity feels like a mark against your moral code.

               Fifteen minutes later, you have pulled up to the apartment complex that San resides in. Getting out of the car, you study the building, trying to remember what number his apartment is.

               “The door,” Seonghwa points, “You don’t happen to have a key to get into the foyer, do you?”

               “No. I guess we can buzz and see if anyone answers. But I…I can’t remember his apartment number.”

               He looks at you swiftly. “Please try to remember.” You can tell it is taking him great effort to keep his voice even and not start shaking you.

               But you’ve only been here a couple of times so nothing appears in your head. Seonghwa takes off towards the door, giving you no choice but to follow. He stands in front of the door, looking around to see the chances of someone coming by so he could slink in after them.

               “You remember it yet?”

               “No, sorry.”

               He turns to the set of apartment numbers written out across the buzzers and randomly hits one. No answer. He presses another one.

               “Is this your plan?” You ask.

               “Yes,” He replies calmly.

               “What are you going to do if someone answers?”

               “Lie.”

               You aren’t sure what to say. This is yet another new side of Seonghwa, one driven by the desperation of someone seeing the tape and finding out what he’s really like.

               On the fourth buzz, someone gruffly goes, “Who is it?” The speaker crackles.

               “Hi, I live a few places down from you and forgot my key,” Seonghwa says smoothly, “I’m so sorry to bother you. I just wanted to get buzzed in real quick.”

               “Yeah, whatever.” The door clicks open and the speaker goes silent.

               Seonghwa grabs the door handle, shooting you a look as he holds it open. You slip past him into the entrance of the building. Once you stand in the foyer, staring at the row of small mailboxes, the apartment number bounces back into your brain.

               “It’s #1117!” You declare, happy at your brain’s ability to recall such a fact.

               “Great, let’s go,” Seonghwa says while walking towards the elevator, pressing the button.

               The foyer is silent as the two of you wait for the elevator to come down. You bounce on the balls of your feet a little, your nerves getting the best of you. You’re worried about Seonghwa, you’re worried about someone seeing that tape and his secret getting out and you’re still dealing with the fact your mind won’t drop mental images that it shouldn’t be thinking about.

               In the elevator, Seonghwa exhales slowly. It is the only sign of tension brewing in him. You marvel at how calm and collected he is. If you were in this situation, there would be no chance of being in control. You’re barely in control of your emotions now, dealing with something that technically would have no impact on your life.

               The doors glide open and Seonghwa marches down the quiet hallway. His steps are muffled against the carpet, coming to a stop in front of San and Yeosang’s apartment. He rings the doorbell but there is no reply. He tries again. Nothing.

               “Maybe they really have gone to the club already,” You suggest.

               In response, Seonghwa bangs his fist against the door before resting his hand against the wood, closing his eyes. You can feel the energy crackling off him, just like that moment in the break room the other day - that same sensation of him wrangling himself under control, shoving his real self into a small box and tying it up with a bow.

               “Do you know what club they go to?”

               “Yeah. It’s nearby.”

               “Let’s go.” He turns around to return to the elevator.

               “Wait,” You hurry after Seonghwa, “We’re just going to go to the club and what?”

               “Ask where the tape is. If it’s in the apartment, I’m going to ask for San to get it for me. If he still has it on him, I’ll just ask for it back.”

               “How are you going to explain why you need it so badly without…you know.”

               The elevator arrives and he steps inside. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out when we get there.”

               You stand next to him, feeling the warmth off his body. He’s wearing a form fitting white sweater today due to the temperature and you cannot help but notice how it lays across his chest. His black jeans are also snug against his slender waist. It is difficult to look at him and not picture the images of him on the beach and in the bedroom. Cheeks getting warm, you stare steadfastly ahead at the elevator doors, which finally open to release you from the ever growing tension.

               Back outside, Seonghwa is hurriedly walking back to the car. The sun has fully dipped below the horizon now, the last strands of dying daylight long gone. You cross your arms, the cold seeping into the fabric of your hoodie.

               “Seonghwa,” You say tentatively as he reaches the car, “Do you wanna talk about it now? Since Rupaul isn’t playing, I mean.”

               “I really don’t.”

               “I don’t want to make things awkward between us.”

               His hand, hovering over the handle of the car door, drops back to his side. His eyes are on you, focused in a way they haven’t been since the news of the tape landing in San’s hands were uttered to him. You suddenly feel exposed.

               Seonghwa crosses the small gap in a couple of seconds, looking at you intensely. “What do you want to talk about exactly? You want to discuss something, surely, and I don’t think that it is about your apology.”

               “I don’t know what you mean,” You mumble quickly, balking at the way his eyes tear through your defenses.

               “You want to know more about the tape? You want to know what I do in my spare time?”

               “N-no!” You lie, “No, I just didn’t want this to mess up anything between us.”

               Seonghwa shakes his head, pulling away from you and exhaling slowly before he loses his cool. “There isn’t time to sit and chat about everything. Can you please just get in the car and tell me where this club San goes to is?”

               You nod silently and Seonghwa turns around, getting into the car. Rooted to the spot for a moment, your heart thrumming in your chest, you try to ignore that little voice in your head – a voice entirely new, one that you don’t know what to do with.

               What if you stopped getting yourself back in control, Seonghwa? What would that look like? I want to see what it looks like. I want to see what the real you is and I want to keep pressing against that exterior until it cracks.

               You’ve never dealt with such a desire before. It is as if a giant dog is tugging you along on a leash and you can’t pull it back. You can dig your heels against the pavement, yank on the leash and beg for the dog to stop but it doesn’t work. The little voice in your head, the centre of your curiosity about Seonghwa mixed with your attraction to him, is a dangerous thing.

               Perhaps it isn’t just Seonghwa who is always struggling to remain cool, calm and collected in every situation. Maybe you’re not so different from him.

*

               Twenty minutes later, Seonghwa is parking at the club San frequents. The place is crowded with a line snaking around the outside of the building. Seonghwa stares at the line quietly after turning off the car. You know what he is thinking – time is important and he isn’t going to waste it waiting in a long line with the risk of the bouncer saying no. His fingers are curled lightly around the steering wheel, his brows furrowed together in concentration.

               “What’s the plan? You gonna gank someone’s VIP pass?” You joke lightly.

               He shifts, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and opening it. His fingers glide across the bills inside as he counts them quickly before looking in your direction. “How much cash do you have on you?”

               “What?”

               “I’ll pay you back,” Seonghwa says impatiently, “We’re just going to bribe the bouncer and skip the line.”

               “Is – is that allowed?”

               “No.”

               “Oh. Uhm,” You fish your wallet out of your bag. “I have a hundred bucks.”

               “Great, and I have two hundred,” He holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers at you.

               “Wait, we’re going to give the bouncer three hundred dollars?” You ask incredulously.

               “No, we’re going to start with a hundred and go from there,” Seonghwa explains, “They might be content with that. Your money is last resort.” When you hesitate, he sighs. “I told you, I’m good for it. I’ll pay you back immediately. I’ll pay you back tonight. As soon as I get the tape. Don’t start wiggin out on me now.”

               “I am not wiggin out,” You say defensively, “I just have never bribed someone before.”

               “Technically, I’m bribing. You’re merely watching.”

               As soon as the words leave his mouth, an awkward silence settles across the car. Seonghwa neatly averts his gaze, pretending to be fascinated with the money in his wallet. You swallow hard, unable to stop yourself from thinking about the tape.

               You thrust the money at him which he takes with a mumbled thanks before getting out of the car. You look down at your hoodie and work pants, unable to recall if this place has a dress code or not. Probably, given the long line. You sigh, opening the car door and trailing after Seonghwa.

               He stops at one point, looking over his shoulder at you. “Are you comfortable pretending we’re on a date?”

               “Excuse me?”

               “I’m going to bribe the bouncer under the guise that I’m trying to impress you. Can I put my arm around you when we get up there? I won’t do anything else.”

               “How do you come up with this shit?” You say without thinking, “The entire night, you just seamlessly come up with these ideas and lies and stories.” Every interaction we’ve had before tonight has been pleasant and normal to the point where I thought you were attractive but a little boring, is what you don’t add on to the sentence, and now I’m seeing all sorts of sides to you I never thought lurked inside.

               Seonghwa ignores the question, instead asking one of his own. “Are you comfortable with me putting my arm around your waist?”

               “Yeah, fine,” You mumble although the idea of him touching your body is making your skin warm.

               “Alright. Try not to look so nervous.”

               Seonghwa walks towards the club with a confidence you cannot hope to possibly mimic. Gone is the easy going attitude he carries at work. Instead, he acts as though he owns the place and is merely popping by to give it a look. His arm circles around your waist as the bouncer comes into view. You can hear people complaining about him cutting the line but Seonghwa doesn’t pay them any attention.

               His arm around your waist is distracting in an agonizing way. Every nerve in your body has awakened to him and the desire is dizzying. As you approach the bouncer, Seonghwa nods his head in the man’s direction, extending his hand outward and slipping the hundred dollars in his palm.

               “How’s it hangin?” Seonghwa asks casually, pulling you closer against him.

               The bouncer glances quickly down at the money and replies evenly, “Could be better.”

               Another hundred dollars is given and the bouncer pretends to study his clipboard and nods, moving to the side. “You’re on the list. Have a good night.”

               Seonghwa nods, guiding you past him and into the club. On the way in, he brings his lips close to your ear and murmurs, “See? Didn’t even need your cash.”

               You’re feeling slightly in awe of the Seonghwa on display tonight – gone is the fake work personality, just someone tackling the situation at hand in whatever way would work best even if it included lying. His arm is still around your waist, his body angled at a slight slant as he leads you through the crowd of people and onto the main dance floor.

               The music is loud, cramming your skull immediately as a crush of people squeeze against Seonghwa and yourself. The flickering lights dance over Seonghwa’s hair as his grip tightens on your waist so the two of you don’t get separated. He pulls you along until he finds an alcove, releasing his hold and facing you.

               “Do you know where they’d be?” He shouts.

               “The dance floor! San always talks about dancing a lot when he’s here!” You yell back.

               Seonghwa scowls. “I fucking hate clubs!”

               Your hand reaches for his, pulling him out of the alcove and towards the main dance floor while This Is Your Night blasts so loudly that you can feel it vibrate along your bones. Wiggling through the vast swarm of people, you successfully make your way to the main dance floor. It is impossible to find San in the crush of people. Seonghwa tugs on your hand, getting your attention while pointing to a large staircase leading to the second floor.

               You nod and he takes the lead, quickly lost in a sea of gauzy club clothes in colours that could cause someone’s retinas to bleed, seeing more cleavage and mini dresses than you thought possible in one space. Your hoodie and work pants and lack of high heels have you receiving a few confused glances as Seonghwa works his way through the crowd.

               Of course, you also notice that Seonghwa is attracting a lot of attention in his own way. No one seems to care that his outfit isn’t club attire in the same way they cared about yours. While making your way up the stairs, you can hear giggles follow as people check Seonghwa out. This sparks an intense irritation in your chest for reasons you can’t fully explain.

               Standing on one of the stairs, you gaze out across the dance floor, squinting to try to spot San or Wooyoung. Someone bangs into your side, cursing at you standing there. Seonghwa turns around sharply, glowering at the woman with such an intensity that she scampers up the rest of the stairs, wobbling on her strappy sandals with huge heels. His hand is on your lower back protectively.

               “We are standing right on the stairs,” You shout at him.

               “I don’t care,” He says crossly, “They can move around us. The staircase is huge.”

               Seonghwa’s gaze is steady on yours and for a few seconds, time seems to stretch out. The music becomes background noise, his hand against your back, his body facing yours. He has one strand of hair that has come out of place, betraying his inner turmoil that he has been attempting to hide all night.

               You bring your hand upwards, pushing his hair back into place before you can stop yourself. He reaches for you, fingers gently wrapping around your wrist. Your breath catches, thrown off by his touch and the intensity of his stare. For a brief second, you think it is finally going to happen – the fissures that have formed in Seonghwa’s carefully constructed polite personality are going to shatter –

               But then, over his shoulder, you spot San weaving his way away from the bar, holding two drinks over his head, heading towards a small table where Wooyoung is.

               “I found them!” You exclaim and the moment passes as Seonghwa looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowing as he spots San.

               He swiftly turns around to head back down the stairs, holding onto your hand again. His impatience is exposed through the way he practically shoves his way through the crowd. The time the grumbles are not of admiration but of annoyance. Seonghwa doesn’t seem to care.

               San’s eyes widen when he spots you and one eyebrow raises at the sight of Seonghwa holding your hand. Suddenly embarrassed, you pull your hand away from him although Seonghwa doesn’t seem to notice. He’s on a mission and only one thing is on his mind.

               The print on San’s shirt defies logic and reasoning, distantly reminding you of a Taco Bell you stepped into a few weeks ago. Paired with even more colourful pants, you are unsure how it took this long to spot him in the crowd.

               “What are you two doing here?” San exclaims loudly.

               Without preamble, Seonghwa goes, “I need the Scream tape back.”

               “You came all this way for that?” He asks confused.

               Wooyoung slides out of the small booth he was occupying, plucking the drink out of San’s hand. Tonight, he’s wearing a nylon dark pink button up with three of the buttons undone, exposing his tanned chest. His pants are so tight that you aren’t sure how he even got into them.

 Wooyoung waves at you and goes, “Who is your friend?”

               “New coworker,” San exclaims over the music before turning his attention back to Seonghwa. “I don’t have it. I gave it to Yeosang when I got home and he took it with him when he left.”

               Seonghwa’s hands flex at his sides, a motion only you notice. “Where is he?”

               “I think he’s out with Mingi and Jongho tonight. They were gonna watch the movie at Mingi’s place. We were going to meet them there later.”

               “Where is he now?” Seonghwa grinds out between clenched teeth.

               San is picking up on the tension, glancing at you but your expression gives nothing away. “Is everything alright? Why do you need the tape back so badly?”

               “I’ll explain later. I just need it back tonight,” Seonghwa replies.

               Wooyoung, who has been silent this entire conversation, his eyes bouncing between the two men, throws his arm around San’s shoulders while pointing at Seonghwa, still holding his drink. “Who is this guy? I like him. He gets right to the point. He’s very money, you know what I mean?”

               You interrupt quickly. “It’s to do with me, San. Please don’t ask any questions.”     

               It’s a lie, of course, but you know San will respect your request. You can feel Seonghwa’s eyes flick to you for a second.

               “Yeah, it’s no problem. I don’t mean to be pushy. Yeosang is at the minigolf course. The one with the big wizard in the middle, you know it?”

               “I do, yeah. Thanks for the help.”

               “It’s all good,” San replies.

               “Are you sure you don’t wanna hang?” Wooyoung asks Seonghwa, “We’re just getting started here.”

               “I appreciate the offer but we gotta bounce. Nice meeting you.” Seonghwa is already turning away, eyes darting towards the exit.

               You give the two men a small wave and then it is back to being smushed in the crowd, wiggling through the writhing bodies as the music pulsates around you. You’re walking behind Seonghwa, his hand searching for yours so the two of you don’t get separated. Your fingers curl around his and you find yourself studying the curve of his neck, the way his shoulders look in his sweater. From this angle, you can just make out the muscles underneath the tight fabric.

               Seonghwa glances over his shoulder to make sure you’re alright. You can’t read his gaze; something shifts behind it, ever changing and unfolding. In that moment, it feels as if you’ve known him forever, in a thousand different locations across a thousand different universes.

               Back into the night air, Seonghwa turns to face you. “Do you know what minigolf course San was talking about?”

               “Yeah, I do.”

               “Great, come on.” He takes off across the parking lot towards the car. His back is illuminated by the neon from the sign of the club, dousing him in a bright blue that his hair soaks up.

               You follow, catching up with him as Seonghwa asks, “What are you gonna tell San when he asks why you needed the tape?”

               “I don’t know. I just said that because I knew he would drop it.”

               “Well, you bought us time,” He remarks, opening the door to the car, “Tell me how to get to the minigolf course.”

               Back in the passenger seat, you can still feel the tension rolling off Seonghwa. Unable to help yourself, you try to reassure him. “We’ll find Yeosang there. I’m sure he will have the tape on him. It’s nearby too.”

               Seonghwa brushes off your words. “Just tell me how to get there.”

*

               It takes fifteen minutes to get to the minigolf course. A large garish wizard hat juts out of the centre of the course, covered in purple lights to make it glow. There is an assortment of other tacky objects sticking upwards – palm trees, a poorly made replica of the leaning tower of Pisa, a UFO that used to rotate five years ago but has since broken down and not been repaired.

               Seonghwa gazes at the sight through the windshield, clearly assessing the situation before getting out of the car. You take off after him, fighting the urge to grab his hand. It made sense in the club, not here.

               As you approach the entrance, the sound of top 40 radio plays loudly over speakers. Seonghwa bypasses the ticket booth completely, instead opting to head directly onto the course. But a bored looking employee glances up from the magazine he’s reading and gets to his feet quickly.

               “Whoa, hey there, homeslice. I need to see the ticket.” He extends his hand out to Seonghwa.

               “I’m not playing,” He says quickly, “I just am getting something from a friend.”

               “Sure, I can just let anyone pass by without a ticket,” The man rolls his eyes, “No ticket, no entrance.”

               “It’ll take less than five minutes,” Seonghwa protests, the agitation at being so close and so far starting to get to him.

               You hover by his side and quietly go, “Seonghwa, let’s just go buy a ticket.”

               “I don’t want to buy a ticket. The ticket is for playing minigolf and I’m not playing,” He grinds out, staring at the attendant, “So, just let me in.”

               The attendant, who is stuck wearing an ugly polyester blue button up, looks positively thrilled at finally having something interesting happening. “No can do, dude,” He says gleefully.

               You grab Seonghwa’s upper arm, briefly distracted by the firm muscles underneath, before carting him away from the entrance. While gesturing to the ticket booth, you go, “Let’s just buy a ticket. Do you really wanna throw down with the guy working the minigolf course? We won’t get to Yeosang that way.”

               “I don’t care,” He says stubbornly, “He’s being an asshole.”

               Your irritation gets the best of you. “If you could wrangle your repressed anger under control for two seconds –”

               “My what?”

               “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Seonghwa. The entire night, you’ve been furious at me and just won’t say it. So, you just shove everything down and ignore it and pretend you’re so calm and collected but you’re not –”

               Seonghwa takes a step towards you. His demeanor is icy cold now. “Not everything is about you,” He replies in a tone that could frost over a window, “As much as you want it to be.”

               Your eyes narrow. “What the hell does that mean?”

               “If I’ve been repressing anger all night, you’ve been holding back too. The multiple attempts to steer the conversation back to how sorry you are, how you found the tape, how little you watched of it.” Another step closer, close enough to touch now. “Why don’t you stop bullshitting and just admit you wanna ask me questions about the tape and what I do in my spare time?”

               You hadn’t thought it was that obvious. Seonghwa striking the centre of your heart with his accusation makes your breath catch. You can’t bring yourself to reply.

               “The tape not only has me on it but also my ex. It violates her privacy for anyone else to see it, not just mine. That’s the most important thing going on right now, not you having some sort of sexual awakening at seeing a few minutes of it.”

               You make a strangled noise in the back of your throat, knowing Seonghwa is correct but also feeling exposed at the same time. He stalks off past you, going towards the ticket booth. The employee at the entrance is gawking at the two of you although he didn’t hear anything said.

               “You and your boyfriend are pretty intense,” He says over the din of top forty music.

               “He’s not my boyfriend,” You mumble, looking over your shoulder at Seonghwa.

               Seonghwa is smiling casually at the person working the ticket booth. All earlier signs of irritation are wiped clean from his beautiful face. He is chatting as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. Was I really that obvious? Or is he just that good at reading people? You are embarrassed but manage to make your facial expression look as placid as possible when Seonghwa returns to you.

               “Ready?” He asks as if the two of you hadn’t just been at each other’s throats a couple of minutes ago.

               After you nod, Seonghwa thrusts the tickets at the attendant who takes them in an over the top gesture and tacks on, “Have a good night!”

               Entering the minigolf course, you stop to grab one of the little putters. Seonghwa notices and drawls, “Really?”

               You hand it off to him. “Yes, really. You wanna blend in or look like the weird guy stalking across a golf course?”

               He takes it, holding it daintily with his long fingers while studying it. “You were right. About the ticket. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

               You’re holding your own putter now, staring at him. “I know. I wouldn’t think clearly in your situation either.”

               Seonghwa looks at you for a long moment. You get the sense he wants to say more but he gives a small shake of his head, turning his attention back to the course. “Come on. We’ll just start at the first hole and wander around until you spot them.”

               The next ten minutes are spent navigating the busy course which includes a moment where Seonghwa ducks to avoid a little kid swinging the putter and another where you almost lose your footing and awkwardly trip off a tiny fake bridge. There are a few questioning glances shot in your direction as the two of you bypass playing completely while you try to spot Yeosang.

               Finally, near the gigantic wizard hat, you spot him along with who you assume is Mingi and Jongho. Yeosang, in baggy jeans and an oversized green hoodie, looks to be talking very animatedly with a tall man who is wildly gesturing. The other man is watching them with an amused expression on his face as if it is a very funny TV show.

               “There they are.” You nudge Seonghwa to get his attention. “Are you doing the talking or am I?”

               “You start and I’ll follow. Yeosang is familiar with you and doesn’t know me.”

               “Alright, let’s go.”

               You cut across a particularly ugly ice cream cone that is the centre of hole number ten and call out Yeosang’s name. He looks up in surprise but waves when he sees you.

               “Wassup? Didn’t know you like minigolfing,” He says as you and Seonghwa stop in front of the group. “Mingi and I were just having a disagreement about how many hits he took to get the ball in the hole.”

               The tall man, who is dressed entirely in acid wash denim, protests. “It was four strokes. You’re saying five and that’s not true.”

               The other guy, who must be Jongho, goes, “Can we please move on? I want to get an Icee.”

               “In this temperature?” Mingi asks, momentarily distracted.

               Jongho tugs on his long sleeve, wearing a plaid dress shirt with all the buttons undone, a black t-shirt underneath, topped off with a simple pair of jeans. “It isn’t that cold in this.”

               Seonghwa, who is already radiating an intense energy that will be overflowing at any second, swiftly interrupts, “Sorry, but I was talking to San and he said you had the Scream tape?”

               Yeosang nods. “Yeah, it’s in my bag. Oh! You must be the coworker he is borrowing it from?”

               “That’s right. I just need to see it for a second please.”

               “Sure,” He turns around, scooping his bag off the ground which it had been unceremoniously dumped on and pulls out the tape, handing it to Seonghwa. “There you go.”

               “Thanks so much,” Seonghwa replies calmly.

               He immediately pries his fingers into the slots and begins to unspool the tape, wildly tugging it out onto the ground. Everyone, including yourself, falls silent, watching as Seonghwa then drops the plastic shell onto the ground and begins to take the putter to it. His hair falls out of place as he beats the shit out of the VHS tape with the putter, the shell cracking from the sheer force at which he strikes it.

               “This dude is wacked,” Mingi mumbles.

               “I heard Scream was a good movie,” Jongho says, brows furrowed in confusion.

               “Guess we won’t find out now,” Yeosang replies dryly, “I suppose we’re watching Mystery Science Theater 3000 tonight.”

               Seonghwa exhales, his cheeks puffing out while doing so, tossing the putter to the ground while scooping up the remains of the VHS tape. He runs his fingers through his hair although it doesn’t fix it.

               “Thanks guys. Have a good night.” Seonghwa says as if he just didn’t go postal in the middle of the minigolf course.

               He glances at you before taking off back the way he came. You give an apologetic look at Yeosang, unsure what to say and settling on nothing. Following Seonghwa, who is still holding onto what little of the tape remained, with the cheery pop music playing over the sound of laughter and people talking, you aren’t sure if speaking right now would help him. Does he need comfort? Is he relieved? He showed no hesitation in destroying the tape immediately. Had that been his plan the entire night?

               Luckily for the attendant working the entrance, the exit loops around the other side of the course, taking you both into the parking lot before Seonghwa can start bickering with him again. He drops the pieces of the plastic casing into the nearest trash can although he is still holding the film, wrapping it carefully around his slender fingers.

               “Seonghwa,” You say tentatively and he stops, looking over at you.

               In the lights of the parking lot, Seonghwa is a slim figure with his black hair glowing. His breathing is slightly uneven, his features not nearly as collected as they’ve been all night. There is something raw wiggling underneath the surface of his composure, something you desperately want to touch.

               “I’ll take you back to your place now,” He says roughly, “Come on.”

               You don’t know what to reply with so you merely nod. A few minutes later, the car is pulling out of the parking lot and back onto the main road. You quietly tell Seonghwa how to get to your apartment from here. The tape is in his lap, the film nestled like a snake in between his thighs. You wonder what he will do with it. Set it on fire, maybe. He seems intent on destroying it completely. You understand why but still feel a pain of regret in your chest. There would be no viewing the rest of the tape now.

               You suddenly feel very tired. Between work and the entire events of the sex tape, you’re ready to crawl in bed and sleep in tomorrow. You lean back in the seat, staring idly out the window. The radio is playing music quietly and Seonghwa doesn’t say a word. You still get the sense he is wrangling himself in. Does he do that all the time? Why bother? Why shield yourself from people to the extent he does? You see his smile from the tape in your mind once again. To your surprise, you feel a spark of jealousy buried in your chest. His ex got to see the real Seonghwa while you’ve been seeing his façade. You want to know him like that. You want to touch him like that.

               The silent admission to yourself is unsettling. It’s been ages since you’ve wanted someone. Your attraction to Seonghwa earlier this week seems easier to digest when you thought your personalities wouldn’t be compatible. But his words outside the minigolf course were correct – those few minutes of him on your TV screen are making something deep inside you stir.

               The streetlights swim lazily across Seonghwa as he drives silently. They blend in with his white sweater before appearing on his tanned skin, small pools of light that travel over his body before eventually being lost behind the car.

               When he parks at your apartment complex, he goes, “I’ll walk you to your door.”

               This time, you don’t refuse. Back into the cold air, you stop at the outskirts of the pool near the staircase to the second floor.

               “Seonghwa,” You say again, your hand resting against the cold metal of the banister, “Now that you got the tape, and everything is sorted out, I really –”

               “Don’t,” He says swiftly, “You’re going to apologize again. It isn’t your fault. I already told you that.”

               “I know what you said,” You are two steps up on the staircase, looking slightly down at Seonghwa, whose hand is inches from yours on the banister, “But outside of the golf course…”

               “Was I too harsh?”

               “I just don’t understand why you’re pretending all the time,” You say after a beat of silence, “When I met you earlier this week, you were pleasant enough. But it’s obvious that isn’t what you’re really like. Just the few minutes of the tape showed that to me. And I’ve caught it once or twice before, at work, when you are obviously shoving your real self back down. Throughout tonight, I’ve seen glimpses of who you actually are – the quick lying, the flashes of irritation, your nerves at someone seeing the tape…I just don’t understand why you hide it everywhere but on a VHS tape.”

               There. You said what you’ve been thinking the whole night. Seonghwa’s face doesn’t change the entire time you speak. But you aren’t fooled by it anymore.

               Seonghwa places his feet on the first step of the staircase. He’s extremely close to you now; his body’s warmth seeps into your skin. You fight the urge to place your hands against his chest to pull on his sweater so that he will kiss you.

               You aren’t sure what his reply was going to be but you aren’t prepared for the way his voice drops to almost a murmur. “You’re really intrigued about the tape, aren’t you? I wonder what makes you so curious. It is the idea of letting the camera see all of you for who you truly are? Is it just the idea of fucking and recording it that you find so compelling? Maybe both.”

               You’ve gone still, frozen in surprise at the words leaving his mouth. He leans forward, his lips so close to your ear that your heart skips a beat. “Do you regret turning the tape off when you did? Your conscience prevailed; you did the morally right thing in a few minutes. Others would have watched the entire thing. But some part of you wishes it kept it running so you could watch me fuck my ex, listen to what we talked about. You know, I was so focused on getting rid of the tape, I don’t even know what one this one contains. We filmed so many,” He lingers on the last word as your brain fills up with mental images of tape after tape of Seonghwa, “What happened in the first few minutes of the tape?”

               Shakily, you manage to whisper, “You were on a beach. And then in a diner. Finally, a hotel room.”

               You don’t see Seonghwa smile but you can feel it, like an arrow in the dark, so fast that the sensation is gone in a second. “The vacation tape,” He pauses and continues, “I prefer being on film. Being seen. I feel comfortable and at ease. The camera misses nothing. The lens cuts through everything. All the noise and the bullshit. It isn’t about watching it back later. It isn’t about sharing it. I fill a tape, shove it in the collection. Destroy them when the relationship ends. Rinse and repeat. It’s about capturing that one moment and putting it on film. Everything when the camera isn’t on feels like bullshit. I feel like bullshit.”

               “Why?”

               Seonghwa shakes his head. “Dunno. Just always have. I only exist when the camera is on. Otherwise, I can’t be myself. Been that way forever. I’ll ask you again – did you regret turning the tape off?”

               It doesn’t even enter your mind to lie. “Yes.”

               “You wanted to watch me fuck my ex? Or did you want to be on that tape with me?”

               Your body is growing hot all over. You wish Seonghwa would touch you. His hand is so close to yours that you would settle for him just to brush his fingers against your skin.

               “Yes,” You whisper so quietly that if he weren’t so close to you, it would have been impossible to hear. You aren’t even sure what question you’re answering. Maybe it is both.

               But Seonghwa pulls away abruptly then. With his warmth gone, it feels like a hole has opened in your chest. He runs his fingers through his hair but you take note of the slightly uneven way he is breathing. You want to grab him, see him for who he really is with no pretenses, have the camera lens on his body while he –

               “I need to get home. I won’t be able to relax until I finish destroying the film,” His eyes trail along your body quickly and it feels deeply personal to have Seonghwa look at you in such a manner, “Goodnight.”

               You don’t want him to go. You want him to follow you to your apartment and fuck you silly. But he turns around and in a couple of seconds, he has rounded the corner, leaving you alone with your thoughts, your desires and the briefest glimmer of the man Seonghwa truly is.

Monday, October 13th, 1997

               “You gonna explain why Seonghwa opened up a can of whoop-ass on a VHS tape in the middle of a minigolf course on Saturday night or am I not privy to that information?”

               You stifle a groan, unable to duck and dodge San any longer. You had yesterday off, which didn’t end up being as fun as it sounded, due to the fact all you did was lay in bed running the events of Saturday night over and over in your head.

               And you still hadn’t come up with any sort of realistic story to tell San about the tape especially since Seonghwa had opted to destroy it with a minigolf putter.

               “It’s complicated,” You finally settle on.

               San’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “Complicated? Should I be concerned about your little work crush? Could he be a little…unwell?”

               “He’s not unwell,” You say defensively, “It’s just complicated. Can you just drop it, please? It was his tape, after all.”

               “Just makes no sense. You said the situation had to do with you. But why did Seonghwa go postal on the tape like that?”

               You’re starting to get a headache. You’ve had way too much coffee before coming into work and your nerves are frazzled between the idea of seeing Seonghwa and how much time you’ve spent analyzing his words to you Saturday night before he left. Yes you told him on the staircase, yes you wanted to watch the entire tape, yes you wanted to see him have sex with his ex and yes, you wanted to be on film with him. A jarring admission, one that you’re still grappling with.

               “San, my break ended a few minutes ago. Just please, for the sake of our friendship, I’m asking you to drop the entire thing.”

               He holds his hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Fine. Consider it dropped. However, it is not forgotten.”

               “I’ll take it, thanks,” You reply, heading quickly to the exit. “Listen, I’ll help you with inventory sometime this week, okay?”

               “You’re just sucking up to me.”

               “Yes, but you hate inventory,” You fire back over your shoulder.

               “I do so I’ll accept it!” He calls after you.

               Back in the store, you meander your way towards to the women’s clothing department. Part of you is desperate to run into Seonghwa while the other part is dreading it. What do you even say to him? Just a simple hello? How can you look him in the face knowing his entire personality is carefully curated bullshit to hide who he really is? How can you talk to him after what he said to you last night? How can you hold a conversation when you are so desperate to have him?

               You end up avoiding the shortcut through the men’s clothing section. Even so, your eyes carefully scan the area for any sight of him among the racks of ugly dresses and t-shirts. Once you’re safely in the dressing rooms, reorganizing and cleaning out the mess people leave behind, you relax slightly.

               You wanted to watch me fuck my ex? Or did you want to be on that tape with me?

               Seonghwa’s words bang around in your brain no matter how much you try to push them away. Even as you go through the motions of work, your mind lingers on how warm his body was so close to yours on the stairs, the low timber of his voice in your ear, and how he saw through you and all your pretenses.

               In fact, you’re so swept up in work and your thoughts, that you don’t realize Seonghwa is in the dressing room area until he says your name. Flinching in surprise, you look over your shoulder.

               He stands there in his blue work vest, his arms so full of clothes that it looks like they could spill onto the floor at any second. Seonghwa’s face is beautifully impassive. You get the sense he has also been avoiding you.

               “Wanted to drop off all the women’s clothes that ended up in the men’s dressing rooms before my shift ends,” He explains in a clipped tone.

               “Right. Thanks.” You move closer, trying to take the clothes from him.

               But there is simply too much and a good portion falls onto the floor. Your hands brush against his in the mess of fabric, sending your heart racing so quickly that it almost makes your chest hurt. Seonghwa is staring at you through his long lashes although his eyes dart away when yours meet his.

               You manage to wrangle a good chunk of the clothes away, tossing it onto the small table at the end of the hallway that you use to organize them. “You can just dump the rest here.”

               Seonghwa does so and then an awkward silence settles across the empty dressing rooms. The store closes in ten minutes. You didn’t think you’d be seeing Seonghwa at all today. We filmed so many he had whispered, teasing you with the mental images of whatever lurked on those tapes.

               “Do you want any help?” He offers.

               “I got it, thanks,” You say quickly, knowing the longer he stands next to you, the higher chance there is at the conversation going sideways.

               His fingers are touching one of the t-shirts, his expression unfocused. “I wanted to apologize.”

               You hesitate and then go, “For what?”

               “I was pretty…intense Saturday night. I also talked to you out of line at the end there,” He swallows, staring at the pile of clothes as if they were a fascinating creature, “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

               You feel stuck. It would be simpler to accept the apology and put the entire thing in the past. But a much larger part of you has shifted since discovering what Seonghwa is really like, brought to life by his words and the images on the tape, growing louder every passing moment. It is difficult to ignore these new feelings inside your chest.

               “It’s all good. It was a stressful situation. I think it would make anyone start trippin although San is asking questions and I have nothing to tell him. It is a little harder to come up with a story when you…beat the shit out of the tape in front of everyone.”

               “Yeah,” He looks at you sheepishly. “I lost my cool for a sec.”

               “Cracked your pleasant exterior there,” You joke quietly.

               His lips twist up into a smile for a brief second. You’re feeling hot all over, knowing it would be far easier just to let the conversation stop here. Easier to return to the way things were before the tape. Let Seonghwa be a work crush and nothing else.

               “But, uhm,” You pick up a shirt, carefully folding it so that you don’t have to look at him, “I didn’t mind how you talked to me. At the end of the night.”

               Seonghwa’s breathing changes slightly, something you wouldn’t have noticed a few days ago. But it is as if viewing the tape, learning about who he is and spending Saturday night with him has synced you up to Seonghwa in a new way.

               “Is that right?” He finally replies, his voice even and without emotion.

               “Yeah, I’ve been…thinking about what you said,” Your voice trembles slightly, betraying your nerves.

               Seonghwa moves ever so slightly closer to you. Relief swoops through your body at his close proximity. “What about it?” He murmurs.

               You take in a small breath and go, “I was thinking about asking you to come over. Tomorrow night.”

               He hesitates for a small second. “To your place?”

               “Yeah. I mean. If you’d want.” You are a mixture of anxiety and desire.

               But you push through it to look at Seonghwa’s face. You recognize the expression this time – he is teying to maintain his calm exterior, aware that he is at work and in a public setting.

                “Should I bring anything?” He asks in a forced nonchalant voice.

               Your grip tightens on the shirt. After spending all day trying to dodge Seonghwa, you can’t believe how you’re cracking after a couple of minutes around him. But perhaps avoiding him was your own way of denying what you wanted.

               “Maybe your camera,” You say with forced casualness.

               But the words seem to crack Seonghwa. He moves closer to you, just as close as the time on the staircase. In a strangled voice, he goes, “You’re not making fun of me, are you?”

               Surprised, you exclaim, “What? No, not at all.”

               His hand reaches out for you but then thinks better of it. Falling back to his side, he flexes his fingers. His voice drops to a whisper. “I work a closing tomorrow but I’ll come over afterwards.”

               You’re done work at five tomorrow which gives you plenty of time to get ready for…whatever you’re getting into. Seonghwa’s gaze is heavy, his energy buzzing. You want to push him, crack him open fully so that you can experience what he is like without any barriers…and maybe you want the same thing for yourself too. You want to know what it would be like being stripped away of all things you carefully hide behind without even realizing it. You just didn’t know that such a thing was so desired until you saw Seonghwa on that tape.

               You nod, wanting to say more but nerves getting the best of you. He pulls away, trying to control his breathing. There is a slight flush of colour creeping up his neck. You get a vivid mental image of being on top of him, your hands against his chest, taking him fully inside you –

               Quickly, you look away, afraid your thoughts might be all over your face. Seonghwa wishes you a goodnight, leaving the dressing rooms quickly before the energy crackles and explodes, spilling out into work.

               He works so hard to keep everything separate, after all.

Tuesday, October 14th, 1997

               You’re looking out the window of the living room, staring at the unremarkable view. The neon of the Taco Bell sign washes over the street, bathing the cars in the bright colour for a second or two as they drive by. You can just make out the interior, a swirl of pink, blue and purple, like a little lighthouse in the night.

               You don’t think you’ve never felt so nervous staring at Taco Bell before.

               It’s past ten which means Seonghwa will be here in about twenty minutes. Having invited him on a whim, driven by a combination of lust and curiosity, you’re now dealing with the reality of what you suggested. In asking him to bring his camera, you’ve basically admitted to him and yourself that you want to see what filming together would be like. And while you’re aware that you can change your mind and tell him to forget it once he arrives, the truth of the matter is that you don’t want to do such a thing.

               Your attraction to Seonghwa has only been heightened since seeing the tape, and your own sexual exploration seemed to be spilling out of you with a mighty need. As nervous as you feel, you also have no interest in denying it any longer.

               You aren’t sure how long you stare out the window, spacing out, but a soft knock at the door startles your thoughts away. Exhaling slowly, you cross the small living room, opening the front door to see Seonghwa standing there.

               He’s wearing a very colourful button up tucked into a pair of blue jeans. A bag is slung over his shoulder and his hair is a little messy from the chilly wind. Your heart skips a beat violently at the sight of him.

               “Hey. Oh, uh, come in,” You say awkwardly, moving to the side as Seonghwa walks past, “How was work?”

               “Fine, the usual. You know how it is. I like your place.”

               You blink. “Really? I don’t think it’s anything exciting.”

               He glances over his shoulder. “Well, I didn’t say it was exciting. I just like how comfortable it looks.”

               “Thanks. How are you doing with unpacking your own place?”

               Seonghwa places the bag on the coffee table while replying, “Besides the mishap with the tape, it has been uneventful.”

               He speaks of the tape so candidly now although given the circumstances, why wouldn’t he?

               “Did you and your ex live together long?” It no longer felt awkward to mention his last relationship – so much is different now with Seonghwa.

               “We did although that seemed to be our undoing. Only lasted a few months after we moved in together,” He replies while turning to face you. “For the sake of honesty, I haven’t been with anyone else since my relationship ended. Does that bother you?”

               “No because I haven’t either. I find those things…distracting. I just was focusing on work and other things in my life.”

               “Am I a distraction?”

               “What?”

               He repeats himself.

               Your cheeks grow warm. “I mean – technically, yes.”

               Seonghwa is fighting off a smile. You can tell by the way he tilts his face away from your direction to look at your TV.

               “Do you want anything to drink?” You offer.

               “Just some water is fine, thanks.”

               “Alright. Uh, please sit down. Don’t feel like you need to stand there.”

               You scamper out of the living room, wishing your nerves would settle. Now that he is here, you feel scattered. Your attraction to him has grown tenfold in the last few days and you can’t remember the last time you’ve wanted someone this much.

               Returning with a couple of glasses of water, you sit down next to Seonghwa on the couch. Desperate to fill the silence, you turn on the TV, immediately blasted with a Surge ad.

               “Listen,” Seonghwa says after a few minutes, “We don’t have to do anything tonight. I don’t want you to think I went into anything with expectations.”

               Hurriedly, you reply, “I know that.”

               “I understand you’re curious because the concept is new to you. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to be into it.”

               You turn to face him, your fingers wrapped around your glass of water. Seonghwa tilts his head in your direction.

               “I am curious,” You say quickly, “And I don’t really understand why. I’ve never thought about something like that until I saw those few minutes of the tape. And I…” You swallow, feeling shy. “Well, I only think about it with you. I was attracted to you right away but…you seemed so…nice. As if there wasn’t a lot going on underneath the surface. So, I assumed the attraction would never deepen. But after I saw the tape…I felt like I saw you.”

               “And?” He prompts.

               “And I was intrigued. At you. At the idea of filming stuff like that. The idea of a camera around, catching all these private moments. I started realizing how much you pull yourself under control, how you’re wearing a mask all the time.”

               “Everyone wears a mask in public. Most people just don’t realize it.”

               “You think I’m realizing it now then?”

               “Maybe. I don’t want to speak over your feelings or pretend I know what you’re thinking of. But yes, you’re right about me. I struggle with being vulnerable, being myself. I always switch into this false personality. I don’t even mean to do it.”

               “But you don’t do it while recording.”

               “That’s right. Something about seeing that little red light on switches it off.”

               “And what about…” Your shyness deepens.

               “Filming myself having sex?” After you nod, Seonghwa goes, “It just turns me on. Makes sex better. Makes me more relaxed. In that moment of filming, I feel free. Capturing those moments of pleasure…it feels crucial to my enjoyment.”

               “Has everyone you’ve been dating into it too?”

               “After I realized how much I like it, yeah. When the relationship ends, I destroy all the tapes. Just out of respect. Recording it isn’t really about watching it back anyway. It’s just about that moment of filming the intimacy of it.”

               You fall silent, battling more questions and your ever growing desire for Seonghwa. He turns his attention back to the TV, although you get the feeling he really isn’t engrossed in the episode of NYPD Blue playing. Your eyes land on the large bag he brought.

               Could you record yourself sleeping with Seonghwa? Knowing that moment would be captured on a tape with him? It’s all you have been thinking about since discovering Seonghwa’s secret. But now that you can make it a reality, your nerves are still battling for dominance.

               “Could I see it?” You ask suddenly, “The camera, I mean.”

               “Sure,” He replies, leaning forward and pulling the bag towards him.

               Unzipping the bag, he pulls out a large and chunky camcorder, resting it in his lap. He runs his fingers along the side where the spot for the tape opens while saying, “I was reading that they’re making these new cameras that are apparently a lot smaller and would be digital, if you could imagine such a thing. Would make filming a lot easier than this heavy thing.”

               “So you don’t…hold it during…”

               He laughs. “No. I just plop it down on a table or something during sex. But if the digital cameras end up truly becoming a thing, I suppose I could hold it during sex. Or you could,” He immediately realizes what he casually said and looks embarrassed. “Not that I meant – I don’t mean to assume that we would sleep together. Or you would be comfortable filming anything.”

               You reach for the camera, grabbing it out of his lap and into your own, studying it. It isn’t as though it’s your first time holding such a thing but it has been a while. “How do you start recording?”

               “You insert the tape and then press this button,” He leans closer, showing you where it is located.

               You study his face, eyes lingering on his lips. “Where’s the tape?”

               Seonghwa meets your gaze for a beat before moving away to retrieve it from the bag. He presses a button, the side popping out so he can insert the VHS tape. Snapping it shut, he says, “Then you can hit record. Each tape can roughly film for two hours.”

               You hesitate for a moment before reaching for the camera. Your fingers touch his, an electric vibration that sparks along your skin. You can hear Seonghwa’s breath catch slightly but he relinquishes the camera. You look into the camera’s viewfinder while popping the cover off the lens.

               You know what you want – Seonghwa and the exploration the recording will bring. Even though it is something you’ve never thought of until that moment you saw Seonghwa on your TV, with his beautiful smile, toned chest and low voice talking dirty, it seems to have awakened something deep inside you. Something that won’t rest, won’t stop, until you explore your desires.

               You press down on the record button, making sure Seonghwa is in frame. You know he can see the red light, aware that you’re recording.

               “Tell me about the first time you filmed yourself having sex,” You ask bluntly.

               Seonghwa raises an eyebrow although the chuckle he emits makes it clear he isn’t offended. “You interviewing me now?”

               “A little.”

               “It actually wasn’t my idea, if you can believe it. My girlfriend at the time brought it up to me one night after she noticed how much I liked recording home movies.”

               “Did she notice how comfortable you seemed on camera?”

               “Yeah, she did. It felt like a natural progression to me like oh, why hadn’t I thought of it? I was always trying to get in front of the camera ever since I can remember. But she was the first one to suggest taking it that far.”

               “Were you nervous?”

               “No.” Seonghwa looks relaxed now. The tension you hadn’t even realized he carried has now softened, his shoulders are lowered while he leans against the couch, still facing you. His hair grazes against his cheek from the angle. You catch yourself admiring his face, the slope of his nose, how his fingers rest in his lap. “No, I felt comfortable right away. What about you?”

               “What about me?”

               “You ever think about filming yourself having sex before?”

               “No, absolutely not.”

               “Not until my tape.”

               “That’s right.”

               “You like filming me?” He asks and after you nod, he goes, “This time, you don’t have to shut it off before it gets to the good part.”

               “A little cocky now, don’t you think?”

               He gives a casual shrug. This is the Seonghwa you saw on the TV – relaxed, confident, letting each emotion come easily without judgement. This is the Seonghwa you’ve wanted.

                You lean back against the couch, the camera still recording in your lap while motioning to the front of the TV. “Why don’t you show me how comfortable you are in front of the camera?” You can hardly believe the words after you say them. I guess it isn’t just Seonghwa who shows new sides of himself to the camera.

               But Seonghwa only grins at your request, getting up and standing in front of the TV. He pulls the colourful shirt from the confines of his jeans, his fingers swiftly undoing the buttons to expose a thin white tank top underneath. Your heart rate is already accelerating at the sight of the fabric resting against his taunt stomach.

               “Is this what you wanted?” He teases and your thighs clench at the fact you’re hearing that tone of voice being used on you now.

               “Don’t be coy.”

               Another grin. Yes, Seonghwa is correct – that little red light on from the camera changes him entirely. He shrugs out of the shirt, exposing his shoulders before it falls to the floor. Wearing just the tank top now, he hooks his thumbs into the front of his jeans, staring at you with an expression that looks almost devious.

               “What?” You say defensively.

               His grin widens. “Nothing. You’re just obvious.”

               “What does that mean?”

               “Come here and I’ll show you.”

               You stand up, holding the heavy camera while ambling towards him. He reaches for the camera, taking it out of your hands and placing it on the top of the TV stand, giving the lens a view of your faces down to just under your shoulders.

               After he finishes positioning the camera, Seonghwa turns his attention back to you. He is as close to your body as he was the other night on the stairs. Your breathing is uneven, aware of the camera on you, aware of everything you’ve been secretly thinking about is going to come to fruition.

               “See?” He murmurs.

               “What?”

               Seonghwa smirks while running one finger down along your arm and your body shivers in response. “That. How much you want me.”

               “Well, some of us aren’t experts at hiding ourselves all the time,” You counter.

               His lips hover just above yours, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. Your body is screaming for Seonghwa, your brain buzzing with need, lips parted in anticipation.

               There is no witty retort from him. Instead, Seonghwa kisses you. Softly at first, enough to shake the centre of you. His lips against yours makes you feel slightly delirious as if not realizing you were dying of thirst. The camera’s gaze remains steady on both of you while the kiss continues. His tongue slips past your lips, exploring your mouth so tenderly that your hands hold onto the band of his jeans to steady yourself.

               Your whimper is muffled against the kiss, face warm, body responsive to this man you’ve only known for a week – and only truly known for a few days. Seonghwa’s hands are in your hair as yours circle around his small waist, pressing him against your body. He is stiff in his jeans but still his hands travel downward until they rest on your ass, squeezing it. The kiss continues, growing deeper, hungrier, breaking briefly so you can pull off his tank top.

               You are pressing your hands against his hard stomach, running up along his chest until curling them around his shoulders, breathless at the sight of him. His skin is warm, inviting, and the sight of him in just his jeans is incredibly sexy.

               Seonghwa brings his face to your neck, kissing along there while his grip on your ass tightens. Your eyes flutter closed for a second. The barriers of your clothing are becoming an annoyance now. You want more of him, you want all of him.

               When you open your eyes, they land on the camera. A silent observer, missing nothing, no judgement to be found.

               “Seonghwa,” You whisper and he stops, pulling away just enough to look at you. His eyes are hazy with lust, lips parted prettily. “Come with me to my room,” You pause for a second before adding, “And bring the camera.”

*

               In your room, the camera is once again propped onto the top of the TV which gives it the perfect angle of the bed. When originally purchasing the second TV at a yard sale, a friend had questioned needing another one. Now, you’re grateful for it – where else would the camera filming the two of you go?

 You are still fully dressed, something Seonghwa looks to rectify from the way he gently nudges you into view of the camera while he stands behind you.

               His hands are on your waist, skittering upwards until your shirt is pulled off, tossed onto the nearby dresser. In just your bra and sweatpants now, acutely aware of the camera, your breathing grows uneven. Seonghwa’s hands continue to travel, now onto your bra, squeezing your breasts together. He is kissing along your neck once again, his lips a soft whisper along your skin.

               He tugs down on the bra, exposing your tits not only to his hands but to the camera as well. The entire thing feels more intimate than any other sexual encounter you’ve had before; the camera adds to the feeling as strange as it sounds in your head.

               Seonghwa’s hands are warm. He cups your breasts, thumbs brushing across your nipples. You’re soaking wet, overwhelmed by the desire you’re experiencing for him. He rolls your nipples in between his fingers, pinching them a little, allowing the camera to take in the sight of him groping you like this.

               You tilt your face in his direction and his lips find yours once again. You like how Seonghwa tastes in your mouth – it is familiar, almost as if you’ve kissed him before, kissed him a thousand times. When he pulls away, the look in his eyes is heavy, laced with lust and stripped away from any pretenses he usually carried so close to him.

               You brush his hands away from your body, instead grabbing him by the waist band of his jeans, moving him closer to the camera on the top of the TV. Unbuttoning his jeans, you rub him through the denim, taking note of the way his breathing catches.

               You lean towards the camera, moving it to the shelf underneath the TV, giving the lens a perfect view of you on your knees in front of Seonghwa. You look up at him, unzipping his pants and pulling them down until his boxers are exposed.

               The camera can’t catch his facial expression but you can see it – the way he looks at you with his plump lips slightly parted, his eyes dancing across your hands down to your breasts. It isn’t just giving yourself over to him, it’s giving yourself over to the camera too.

               Your hands rub against the bulge in his boxers, feeling the warmth through the fabric. Your hands dip into the band of his boxers, pulling it down until his cock springs free. Gently wrapping your hand around him, you bring your tongue across the head, sweeping across it once, twice, three times. Seonghwa exhales slowly while you begin to pump his cock, looking up at him. The camera’s gaze is steady on the two of you, the moment you take his length into your mouth captured on film.

               Your tongue presses against the tip of his cock for a few seconds before taking more of him, filling your mouth with his length. Your other hand goes to his balls, fondling them while your tongue presses along the underside of his shaft.

               Spurned on by the soft noises of pleasure that escape Seonghwa, you begin to bob on his cock. Sometimes, he pops out of your mouth, the tip of him a sticky sweet mess of your salvia and his precum. It glistens in the low lights before you take him once again, as much as you can. You enjoy the way he fills your mouth, stretches out your lips with his thickness.

               Seonghwa’s eyes close, his head rolling back as a guttural groan topples from in between his pink lips before he curses sharply and pulls away. His cock slides out, precum smearing against your cheek.

               With a small shake of his head, he goes, “I don’t wanna finish. I want to feel you wrapped around me.”

               Seonghwa helps you up, scooping the camera off the shelf and back onto the top of the TV. This time he puts more care into the angle, asking you to sit on the bed while he looks through the viewfinder until he looks pleased with it.

               “Look at you, big shot director,” You tease at one point.

               He raises his eye from the viewfinder. “Hey, it’s your debut,” Seonghwa says gravely but the twinkle in his eyes makes it evident he’s joking. “Lay sideways on the bed for me, will you?”

               “Yes, sir,” You are still poking at him.

               When he seems satisfied, Seonghwa circles back to the bed. He crawls up along your body, stopping to remove your sweatpants and underwear. You’re completely naked with him on camera now while his lips travel across your stomach, stopping at your breasts. His tongue flicks over your nipples and he gently bites down on one, tugging on it with his teeth just to hear you gasp.

               Seonghwa is skin to skin with you, not an inch in between your bodies as he finally kisses your lips. Your legs curl around his waist urgently, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth until he groans in response.

               It is simple to enter your pussy, having been wet for Seonghwa since he stepped foot inside your apartment. His length fills you swiftly until his hips touches yours. The next kiss is messy, a mixture of muffled moans and whimpers as Seonghwa goes still, allowing you to get used to the sensation of being filled with his cock.

               His hands snake up along your arms, gently pinning your hands above your head, just at the edge of the mattress. Almost lazily, Seonghwa rocks his hips. The motion is small, just enough to send shocks of warmth and pleasure through your body. You groan out his name in a plea for him to move faster but he doesn’t obey.

               “Sorry, my boo, but I’ve been thinking about this all week and I want to take my time,” Seonghwa declares, your hands entwined together, “I saw the way you looked at me when we first met, saw the disinterest flicker across your face when I drove you home the first time.” He moves his hips, pulling almost completely out of your hole. “And I went home that night and thought about inviting you over, teasing your body until you crumbled and begged for me.” He thrusts now, all the way back inside, until your hips meet once more and you gasp, your fingers curling around his for something to hold onto.

               You can recall the memory, the way you mused that Seonghwa was too pleasant, too kind in that sort of neutral, placid way that meant even though he was beautiful, he faded to the background of your memory. But there is your side of things too…

               “Your veneer isn’t perfect,” You counter with a small gasp when he rocks his hips again, “Maybe to others but not to me.”

               “Is that right?” He growls.

               Breathlessly, you explain, “I got the feeling multiple times you were holding back, hiding parts of yourself. You were so restrained all the time.” You remember the moment in the breakroom where he flattened his hand against his knee, wrangling himself under control. “But sometimes, I would see pieces. It made me want to crack those parts open, see you.”

               Seonghwa is moving your legs now, sliding his arms under them so that they fold closer to your chest. He is still as near to you as he can get physically. But the angle change is intense and you grab the edge of the bed, gasping as he begins to pump his cock deeper into your cunt.

               “And now?” He prompts but you can’t focus on the conversation anymore, not when his cock feels this good and he’s finally fucking you at a pace that only heightens the desire and pleasure. After your garbled moan, Seonghwa goes, “I’ll take that as your answer.”

               Your eyes flutter open, the red light from the camera like a spotlight. This moment - captured either forever or until Seonghwa and you were to break apart. Tiny parts of yourself, combined with Seonghwa, in this intimate moment for the camera lens.

               Your thighs shake, your pussy tightening around Seonghwa’s cock as your orgasm approaches. He keeps up the steady pace, the bed shaking with every thrust, your legs bouncing with each jerk of his hips. Your knuckles are white from clutching the edge of the bed, your bedsheets tangled around your fingers as Seonghwa pistons his cock into your wet cunt.

               And then your orgasm begins, Seonghwa’s name a shattered piece of glass on the tip of your tongue as your hips meet his. The pleasure blots out everything; it is so exquisite that you lose yourself entirely to him.

               Seonghwa pulls out, allowing you to stretch out your legs. “I want to fuck you from behind,” He says, his hands on your thighs, “Will you let me?”

               You know that means facing the camera, allowing it to capture every expression on your face. You nod and Seonghwa helps you get into position on all fours, your ass in the air and hands pressed against the bed. He runs his hands over your ass before tugging you down a little, towards his cock.

               “Seonghwa,” You say, looking over your shoulder at him. His hair is messy, his breathing rough, but all his protections over his personality are gone. He looks sexy, inviting, warm, all yours. “I want you to finish in me.”

               He stops for a moment, glancing up at you before nodding. You turn back to the camera while he enters you once again. You gasp loudly – he feels much different from this angle and your eyes almost roll back into your head from how amazing it is. Seonghwa doesn’t stop this time. He immediately begins to pump and you curse roughly as his hips smack against yours.

               One hand reaches for your hair, pulling it on it in a sharp tug, keeping your head up so that the camera captures your ever changing facial expressions. You like that it’s being filmed, both you and Seonghwa’s faces being recorded as you chase the pleasure your bodies can give.

               He grunts out your name as he fucks you, releasing his hold on your hair so that he can grip your waist. Your hands shake and you finally relent, lowering your front half onto the bed. This allows him to fuck your cunt even deeper. You’re cursing loudly, begging him to keep going because you’re going to cum again. He doesn’t stop and you’re sure that the camera is going to show a thin layer of sweat across his forehead from how quickly Seonghwa’s hips snap into yours, his balls smacking against your ass, your wet pussy taking him easily.

               Your hands grip the bed sheets, face down in the bed now, trying to muffle how much noise you’re making because of the neighbors. Seonghwa is grunting, panting, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as his cock pounds into your sopping wet hole.

               Your orgasm starts suddenly, without any warning, and your back arches. You bring your ass backwards, trying to meet his erratic thrusts. At the same time, Seonghwa groans out your name and it sounds like gravel against the bottom of a shoe. He begins to spill inside of your cunt. Together, you both cum, in full view of the camera. His warmth overflows and when he pulls out, you can feel him dripping out of your cunt.

               Legs like jelly, you fall against the bed, completely exhausted. But Seonghwa slides off, reaching for the camera and bringing it onto the bed. He plops it briefly onto the sheets while his hands go to your hips, rolling you onto your back.

               “What?” You mumble, slightly dazed.

               “I want to see your cunt filled with my load,” He explains, bringing the camera close, peering through the viewfinder.

               His other hand gently spreads your lips apart, showing his cum leaking out from in between your folds. It’s lurid, completely pornographic, and you find it thrilling.

               “You’re a perv,” You tease him.

               His finger dips into your cunt, scooping up some of his cum. His hand trails up along your body, along with the camera lens, and when his finger is against your lips, you open, sucking his cum clean off.

               “And what are you then?” He says.

               “Your new girlfriend,” You reply boldly.

               Seonghwa pulls away from the viewfinder, his eyes meeting yours. In the now quiet room, the only noise is of his soft breathing mingling with yours. The past is wiped clean, replaced with the new tape, the collision of two people caught on camera, entwining together both physically and mentally.

               “That sounds perfect to me,” is what he finally says and you can read in between the lines – you aren’t just privy to Seonghwa’s true self through a camera lens anymore. You get access to him all the time.

               You smile up at him, fucked out completely and never been more content.

               Seonghwa returns the look, his finger hovering over the button to stop recording.

               “What do you want to do now?” He asks.

               You think for a moment before going, “We should –”

               And his finger presses the button, ending the tape.

the end.

[myslutwritings]

Hey! I've been reading your blog and I'm really interested in your writing. I would like to ask if you could do the upper moons with a reader with a background like Mitsuri's? As if after rejection the reader became super ashamed of their appearance and their body. Take as much time as you need to write this, I just wanted to send my idea before I forget it <3

-🎀

hey, love! of course i’ll do your request. goodness, this request was in my inbox for a few months so my apologies for responding so late!! (˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥)

➤ Uppermoons with a partner who has Mitsuri’s backstory

[ not proof read btw ]

➤ summary: reader is insecure

➤ characters included: muzan, kokushibo, douma & akaza!

➤ WARNING: semi-nsfw + violence.

MUZAN KIBUTSUJI

first off.. how dare you-

yeah, okay, he’s GONNA take major offense to say at the very least..

likeeee hellooooo???

i mean, you’re MUZAN’S partner. you somehow pulled the king of demons? like look at you!! (unspoken rizz🤫..)

we all know this man has a crazed obsession with being the perfect being so obviously he is going to view his significant other as the embodiment of perfection itself.

Muzan chose you over anyone else. He views the rest of the human population as insignificant atoms. Because of his determination for perfection he’s going to pick/fall in love with a person who he deems perfect.

let’s be honest, due to him taking offense to finding out you’re insecure over some different face/hair/body features you have that he doesn’t mind/finds them beautiful he’s going to be not very happy!

when i say, “not very happy” that’s just me sugar coating his flaring anger.

However, he’ll try to reassure you in his own way that you’re beautiful the way you are and that you’re perfect in the most passive aggressive way possible.

Listen, he’s not the best at intimacy but he tries for you.

AND OH BOY!! when he finds out if anyone made you feel insecure he would order nakime to locate them so he could kill them. 🤭

As for your exes in the past.. they’re already taken care of! he murdered them awhile ago and didn’t even bother eating them because he was that repulsed by their existence.

Bro didn’t even view them as worth eating.

Btw he didn’t even tell you that he murdered your exes along with the men/women who made you feel insecure about your face/body.. he just causally told you as if it would make you feel better.

“Muzan, what happened to my exes? i saw a missing poster while i was running errands today..”

“There is no need to worry about them anymore, my dear.”

KOKUSHIBO

He’s very saddened over the fact you’re insanely insecure and it devastates him knowing how many people hurt you.

Why is he only hearing this now? he wished you told him sooner.

Like the demon king, he isn’t the most skilled when it comes to intimacy. I mean, he had a wife in the past but he deadass left her and went to go get the milk. 💀

He would never leave you though!

so he’s not going to be the ‘lovey dovey’ reassuring type of boyfriend who coddles you the way you want him to.

He may or may not have forgotten how relationships worked and he’s lowkey awkward!

He’ll reassure you in his own way and of course his demon instincts are provoking him to kill those maggots in the past who dared made you cry.

If you don’t want him to kill your exes he won’t but if you do then congratulations! you have a whole bunch of dead exes!

He’s jealous because he wanted to be with you before any of those people. He figured that if he found you first and asked you out before any of those horrible human beings you wouldn’t be so insecure. :(

Once you communicate more with Koku he’ll begin to understand and attempt to be more intimate and reassuring! He just isn’t used to it.

Kokushibo is honestly excellent at communicating and he’s understanding in his own way.

He won’t understand why you’re so insecure though? You point out your features/habits you’re insecure about that you view as ‘flaws’

He does not view them as flaws in the slightest! That’s just who you are and like muzan he’ll be offended at first you have so much hatred for yourself. 😞

But don’t worry! he won’t get mad like how Muzan did.

If anything you two will just talk it out. He may never will understand why you’re so insecure but he’ll compliment you and reassure you every time he sees you! He’ll do his very best to check up on you whenever he’s able to.

DOUMA

Douma is honestly going to think it’s stupid.

no, you are NOT stupid. he thinks the reason you’re insecure is silly! because why would you be hurt over what someone so insignificant thinks of you?

Douma also thinks it’s stupid because he views you as the most beautiful flower to ever walk this planet!

Yes, douma will find it silly. He may not fully comprehend why it hurts you so much but he’ll reassure you regardless because he loves you!

Douma is canonically great at advice. But usually with his followers he puts on a façade.

But with you it’s very different. Yes, he’ll give you advice but because he loves you and you know him and know what he really is he’ll give you the advice and not sugarcoat it for you.

Downright admits it’s dumb how you feel that way.

Immediately feels bad afterwards though when you break down into tears-

He’s used to seeing miserable people cry. He doesn’t care about their tears.

but when it’s you crying he isn’t a fan, trust me.

This is the part where he’ll reassure you and lend you advice. Instead of being rude, he’ll be genuine with you!

Douma just doesn’t understand. When you point out why you’re insecure he brushes it off because he finds your ‘flaws’ so adorable!

It’s one of the things he loves most about you. Your so-called ‘flaws’ are unique to him.

He gets offended like Muzan because why would you hate those adorable features about yourself?!? 😡😡

Let’s be fr.. Douma will never understand because he doesn’t find you ugly and has zero issues with your habits that you claim to hate about yourself.

But if you need comfort, he’ll of course comfort you and reassure you all you want! After all, he’s known to have a voice that soothes people instantly so he’s incredibly good at helping you. that’s what he does, right?

Anyway, Douma will go out of his way to make you feel less insecure even though he finds it utterly stupid that you are. The little shit still loves you unconditionally and will be genuine with you. He isn’t fake with you like how he is with his followers who suffer from insecurities.

Btw he ate the people who made you feel shitty about your appearance.

AKAZA

he is appalled..

LIKE WHAT???

YOU? INSECURE?

YOU OF ALL MORTALS?!?

High-key freaking out at first because now he feels like he did something wrong

I headcanon him as an overthinker when it comes to those he loves.

You elaborate your darkest feelings to him and he listens like the good boyfriend he is!

This sweet baby is the nicest and most understanding about it though!

Unlike Douma he won’t think it’s stupid. Your feelings are valid!

Akaza detests how insecure you are though. He’ll do anything in his power so you don’t feel that way anymore though!

You reassure him that he’s doing his job right as a demonic boyfriend before revealing that someone else made you feel this way.

Okay, okay.. so it’s not him but some other asshole.

He’ll be really bummed out if he can’t kill them:(

Assumes that’ll make you feel better if he gets rid of that garbage walking the earth.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to kill them for you? I hate how they made you feel insecure about yourself..”

Like, no, akaza it’s fine!!

But if you’re a person who seeks out revenge and WANTS the people who rejected you/made you feel bad about your looks dead this man has zero issue making your desires come true. 💅

After you confess to him about your past rejections and bullying in the past over noticeable features you have he’ll worship you even more that day. He’s the type to bring you flowers and remind you that you’re gorgeous/handsome whenever he gets the chance.

This behavior also comes out in the bedroom but that’s a different story for another day. 😩

[rosemarie333]

Astro Observations/Opinions (Vedic Edition😋)

Hello guys! This is my first astro observation so I hope y’all like it, if not then😗

These are based on my perspective of placements and signs, so take what resonates and leave what doesn’t🫶🏾 I’d love to hear y’all’s take as well!

ANTYWAYSSS (spelled it like i say it) let’s get started😈😈😈

1. Solar women are so mentally strong (as are Saturnian Women) like they won’t bend backwards for anyone ESP a man. Always giving boss bitch energy and super independent. Some of the ones I met can be egotistical as well lol

2. I know people might think mercurial people talk the most shit because it’s mercury but out of all the shit talkers i know BABES ITS THE SATURN MFSSS. like they are the ones that will be telling and spilling the tea to their friends and talking the MOST shitttt likeeeeeereeeeeee that’s crazy. They are often like “bitch i gotta tell u abt xyz” like BABYYY and don’t let me get started if it’s paired with like rahu or even ketu like even ketu people talk the most shit too like and they’re the ones that are called “detached” but lord and behold LMAO crazy

3. Mercurial people really are all or nothing. U either meet them when they are at their highest and at their lowest like there’s no in between. When they are at their highest they thrive so well and they can radiate their happiness onto others as it’s kinda hard for them to get there. Deals with a lot of insecurity and abuse and they take it out on the ones who doesn’t deserve it more than the ones who do like it genuinely believe that if they told the people who hurt them what’s up then it’ll take a BIGGGGGG boulder off their shoulders and then they can begin to heal (even if it’s through letter that they burn or whatever like BITCH GET IT OUT). Y’all don’t have to take it out on others WERE BETTER THAN THIS😭😭😭 as a mercurial myself i get it like it’s hard asf esp when abuse and pain is all u know it’s so easy to get wrapped into that. tbh i’m dealing with handling my emotions better and im trying to use my poison as medicine as one would say (its hard but with having jupiter in the 1st house i can’t linger in negative thoughts or emotional all the time like at max an hour or three but forgetting abt it which holds on to it rather than expressing because when i hold onto i start to isolate myself and then i burst when it’s too much, yeah 😞 working on it tho)

4. Rahu people are like maritans mixed with jupiterians like very bold and EXPRESSIVE but like to have a good time like jupiterians. Super duper expressive.

5. Magha placements be feeling like royalty at all times and AS U SHOULD BOO LIKE DO U. LMAO i say bc i have a magha moon friend who calls me a peasant when he wants to be sassy like LMAO okayyyy

6. Jupiter men are the ones with the big body counts LoL everyone I met be fucking like they wont live tmr like calm down sir😭

7. Moon women are conservative lol. they are def the ones judging other women for being out there when in reality they wish they could to bc lunar women are often people pleasers unfortunately 😩. Ngl i deadass think that MANY moon women are closeted like baby it’s okay U DONT HAVE TO HIDE. But one thing about lunar women THEY LOOK GOOD IN ANYTHING OMFG

8. Dhanistia omg man or woman bitch y’all have a certain magnetism to y’all and DAMNNNNN like i’m obsessed esp with the girlies. Like y’all are so confident and have such a strong aura like y’all make me wanna get out of my SHELL 🥹

Anyways that’s ittttt hope y’all liked it.

[lumismuseum]

🏛️ HSR Characters with a Vampire S/O

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

✨ FEATURES ; gender neutral who’s a vampire, basically how they treat you, reader is very gentle (sometimes), established relationship with all of them, reader is more dominant with the men but more submissive with the women if that makes sense (basically me)

— Characters ; Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Blade, Kafka

📜 NOTES ; probably 15+, mentions of violence and blood, some spicy stuff, these are my hcs, idk all the characters well I kinda just have an obsession with two or three soooooo….mb yous are eating rations tonight.

ALSO, I’ve written this so that reader’s spit has healing benefits, meaning it can heal minor wounds (like bites), so that they can keep whoever they’ve bitten alive longer. Like recycling.

DAN HENG

DRINKING HIS BLOOD ;

Is very reluctant to let you drink his blood at first (understandably).

He’s quite paranoid in case you accidentally drink too much.

You don’t push him to do it since you can find other sources of nutrition, it’s just that he’s the… easiest source.

The first time he let you drink his blood, it was when you were getting quite malnourished. As your lover, he felt like it was his responsibility to sacrifice himself for you. He immediately offered his neck to you after zipping down his collar on his turtleneck. You didn’t take a lot of blood from him, but it was enough to sustain you for the time being. Whilst you had been rejuvenated, he grew slightly limp in your arms and so you had to carry him back to your room.

After that though, he was still hesitant to offer himself to you, but he wasn’t against it completely anymore.

His favourite place for you to drink from is his neck - he feels a little too nervous for you to try drinking from anywhere else since the data bank only has information on drinking from the neck. He also likes how close you are to him when you go for his neck.

He also just loves the way you slide your tongue up his neck once you’re finished drinking.

BITING HIM ;

Won’t admit it, but he really loves it when you trace your teeth down his skin, especially his neck. He loves the way it raises goosebumps all over his body.

Idk about you guys but I believe Dan Heng is 100% SUBMISSIVE so for him, the thought of being completely at your mercy just gets him so excited.

Like, when he’s stripped of his clothing with your body laid on top of him and your sharp teeth grazing his neck, his collarbones, chest, stomach, THIGHS?? Plus the thought that you could quite literally do whatever you wanted to him in this state (even though he knows you’d never hurt him) makes him go crazy.

As for actually biting him, he’s a little less into that. He still adores the occasional nip that you give him but he isn’t entirely comfortable with you full on biting him unless it’s necessary.

In his vidyadhara form, he also has fairly large fangs (not as prominent as yours but still impressive), so I feel like he has a thing for nipping you as well. Sort of like a playful revenge for the bites you’ve given him.

Also, he’s so much freakier in his vidyadhara form anyway. Since he doesn’t feel totally helpless with his full strength, he definitely gets more confident - nipping you back, putting your fingers in his mouth and vice-versa…

Basically when he’s in his dragon form you two just turn into straight animals with each other, especially when shit gets heated ;)

JING YUAN

DRINKING HIS BLOOD ;

Actually quite into you drinking his blood - he likes the feeling of being vulnerable in someone else’s arms. He views it as a display of trust between the two of you.

He doesn’t want to do it very often though as he’s also cautious about blood loss.

Sometimes, especially when you’re drinking from his neck, he gets a little too into it and forgets to push you off. This has led to some close calls (he’s fainted multiple times), but thankfully you’ve had enough self control to pull back before it gets dangerous.

The first time you drank from him was a result of his curiosity. He genuinely wanted to know what it felt like to have his blood sucked out of him and so offered his neck to you. It ended up being much more enjoyable than he imagined it would be - the close proximity to you as well as the feeling of him being weakened by you gave him such a thrill.

His favourite place for you to drink from keeps changing. He adores it when you bite his shoulder from behind whilst giving him a back hug in the process but he also LOVES having you drink from his thigh. But really he's okay with you drinking from anywhere. He doesn't even see any danger in what you're doing, rather he sees it as a bonding moment or a moment of intimacy between you two. Just the thought that he's making you stronger while you're making him weaker makes him feel so good.

BITING HIM ;

Like I said above, he accepts you drinking his blood from any spot, so he's even more lenient with just biting.

He's particularly fond of you biting his chest, collarbones and neck since he can cover it up. It excites him when he's talking to someone and they don't know that underneath his clothes he's covered in your bite marks.

I feel like there's a tiny part of him deep down that genuinely wants you to just go to town on him. And I mean going proper feral, treating him like you're going to eat him for dinner - tearing into his skin and getting your fangs as deep as you can.

But that's a very small part of him and for the most part he would much rather you be pretty gentle with him :( the thought of you actually being ferocious with him makes him more uncomfortable than anything.

BLADE

DRINKING HIS BLOOD ;

First and foremost, this guy's a freak. Seriously.

Oh, you think you're the wild one since you're the literal vampire? Think again! This man WANTS you to rip him apart, like actually DESIRES IT. The second you two are alone together he’s taking his clothes off and pulling you onto him.

Since he can't die (or at least, he keeps coming back to life when he does), he has no problem with you taking as much blood as you want from him, whenever and wherever you want.

Sometimes when you're drinking from him he'll actually bite you back if you have any exposed skin near him, either because he wants you to just give into your instincts and devour him OR because he just gets a little too excited (usually both).

The first time you drank from him was because he kept provoking you to bite him. You initially didn't want to for fear of going too far, yet he kept persisting that he needed it - he needed to feel your teeth draining his life from him. So, you complied and sunk your teeth into his neck. He groaned with pleasure at the feeling. When you pulled your head back, thinking you'd taken enough, he grabbed your head and forced you back to his neck, getting you to go even deeper into his neck. He kept holding you in that position until he eventually collapsed in your arms.

He has two favourite places for you to drink from. The first is definitely his neck. The fact that there's so much risk in you taking blood from there just exhilarates him, he almost gets high off the feeling. His second favourite place is his chest, right where his heart is. There are times when he just wants you to just snatch his heart out and eat it, but those are thoughts that he'll keep to himself for the time being.

BITING HIM ;

He actually doesn't really like it when you bite him and don't draw any blood. It makes him feel like you're going easy on him, so whenever you do that he riles you up by saying shit like "That all you got?!" to rile you up.

HOWEVER he does like it when you nip him a couple of times before digging your fangs into him. I can't explain why he just gets a thrill out of it.

But for the most part he much prefers when you get aggressive with him.

KAFKA

DRINKING HER BLOOD ;

Kafka almost views you as her cute little vampire pet. Because of this she takes GREAT care of you.

She has tons of blood vials ready for you whenever you get hungry, but if you plead her long enough then she’ll let you drink from her instead, since she knows fresh blood is the best.

When you are drinking from her though, she needs a little time to get ready. She’ll settle down into bed with you, maybe have some candles on for atmosphere, then let you drink from her.

I feel like she’d make you wait like a little dog for her command. Like you’ll be sitting beside her or straddling her, desperate for her to give you permission to drink, and as soon as she says ‘Drink’ you just dive in like a starved animal. She might even tease you a little and make you wait for a few minutes, saying things like “You’re so hungry, aren’t you? So desperate for my blood, hm?”

She doesn’t really have a favourite place for you to drink from, she likes it anywhere. Although, she is particularly fond of places where she gets to grab your hair and basically control how much blood you get.

BITING HER ;

Loves it when you bite her. She much prefers it over you drinking her blood.

Likes to incorporate your biting into make out sessions, having you slowly work your way round her neck, littering her skin with delicate bites. As you do this, she strokes the back of your head or scratches your scalp.

[m4nj1r0s]

Slightly!Yandere Shinichiro general headcannons

Note: I went off-track a little with cute moments 😭

- SIMP. You’ve probably heard it 100 times, so let me be the 101st, he is a SIMP.

- Has your picture as his lock screen and Home Screen, has a polaroid of you two in the back of his CLEAR phone case, another polaroid in his wallet and a framed picture of the two of you in his shop.

- Looks at you with love-hearts in his eyes whenever you’re talking. It could be about the economical state of the world and he’d still listen intently just because you’re the one saying it.

- Everyone says he doesn’t have any skills with girls, which is true, but he is genuine and that’s already better than the majority of men.

- Will hug and kiss you in front of his friends because he literally does not care what they think. They’ll all probably groan and tell him it’s gross.

- Has accidentally blown a puff of smoke in your face from a cigarette and when you started to cough he panicked. Got you a cute teddy bear to say sorry though.

- Has your skincare and makeup routine memorized, and products. This man knows your shade and the brand you use for foundation and concealer. Always stocks it up for you when he sees you’re running low. Loves to watch you apply skincare and makeup and will get flustered if you ask him to put it on for you.

- Is always so gentle with you. He hasn’t hurt you, and won’t ever. Not even accidentally. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him!

- Benkei and Takeomi give him bad girl advice. Wakasa knows better but he’s never around when the other two give Shinichiro advice… When he tries it with you, he gets genuinely shocked when you tell him you don’t like whatever he tried.

- One time, he asked you if you were on your period because you were mad at him, and when you asked him why the hell he would ask that, he replied “Takeomi told me that you’d think I was attentive and knowledgeable about women’s hormones if I asked you!!”

- They’re probably the reason he doesn’t get girls tbh

- But he has you, he doesn’t need anyone else.

- He does get jealous super easily. He doesn’t even know how he pulled you in the first place, but he WON’T lose you.

- Has and will use his connections from the Black Dragons to beat anyone who tries to get with you. He’s not going to get his hands dirty (probably because he doesn’t know how to) if he has people to do it for him.

- Celebrates every little milestone in your relationship. Expects you to remember as well. Like, what do you mean you forgot this is the anniversary of the first time he fed you?!

- Dreams of a nice, domestic life with you in the future whenever he sees you with Emma and Mikey. He wants 4 kids and a nice house by his grandpa’s dojo.

- Mikey and Emma LOVE you. You’re their big sister now! Especially Emma. It’s hard for her in an all male household, so you’re her rock when it comes to things her brothers and grandpa don’t understand.

- Emma loves to do girl things with you, like face-masks, doing nails and gossiping about boys you guys like. Although it’s only really Emma who talks about boys she likes, since she’ll get grossed out if you talk about Shinichiro in a romantic manner. That’s her stupid, goofy older brother after all..

- Mikey is constantly asking you if Shinichiro is paying you to pretend to be his girlfriend because you’re wayyyyy out of his league! Shinichiro is a bland 4 and you’re a 10!!

- Mikey and Emma definitely crash your guys’ dates sometimes. Especially if you guys are going on a picnic or to the mall.

- Grandpa Sano likes you as well, you’re keeping Shinichiro from getting into trouble and being a goof. Although, most of that is just how he is.

- Mikey definitely introduces you to Draken as his big sister. And Draken probably sees you as his big sister too, you guys probably do have cute moments.

- One time, you saw Draken sat on a bench on his own and you took him to the convenience store and got him candy to cheer him up and talk about why he was looking down. Mikey joined you guys half-way through with a bag of dorayaki (no, he did not share).

- All in all, you guys are a cute ass couple and the kids all look up to you two.

[guiltyasdave]

heaven can't help me now

chapter 3 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You're afraid Dave might not like you as much as you like him. ...Meanwhile, Dave is afraid of the same thing. (They're idiots okay)

word count: 6.5k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks), able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, phone sex, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, biting, cream pie, use of panties as a gag, orgasm denial, pet names, let me know if anything is missing!

a/n: co-written with my angel @joelscurls, throwing around these ideas with you is so fun, i love you <3

taylor swift said “what if he’s written mine on my upper thigh” and i took that personally

thank you @catchallfangirl for beta reading! <3 (and listening to me freak out about this on a daily basis)

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

Dave regrets the message as soon as the small text underneath it switches from delivered to read. 

He knows that he’s been cruel to you, he could see the confusion and hurt written all over your face when he drove you home. But he has to be the responsible one, the adult in this situation. The one who’s able to hold back. Nothing should have happened between you and him, not once, let alone twice. He shouldn’t indulge in this, shouldn’t give you hope. 

He has always looked down on men who were with women much younger than them. Midlife crisis. Not able to have a relationship with someone on the same maturity level. 

That’s not who he is. He understands that the reason why you’re attracted to him lies at least partially in your relationship with your father, and he won’t take advantage of that. It’s not who he is and it’s not what you deserve. 

You’re gonna go back to college in a few weeks and he can pretend that none of this ever happened. You’re gonna meet a nice boy your age, become a lawyer, get married and live your life the way you’re supposed to. Eventually, the memory of you writhing underneath him, your voice so sweet and needy in your desperation, surely won’t be as vivid as it is right now.

But then he found your panties between the cushions of his couch, still damp with your arousal, still smelling of you. His mind started wandering, conjuring images that he should be ashamed of. The things he could do to you, the things he could show you. 

It’s like he’s lost in a haze, stroking his throbbing cock to fantasies of you, all the depraved shit that some respectful fellow student would never do, but that he knows you crave. He hears your whimpers so clearly in his head, pictures your face, so pretty begging him for things only he knows how to give you, until he releases himself all over the lacy bit of fabric that’s clutched between his fingers. 

But now you’re not answering, and shame is swirling in his stomach, surely now he’s overstepped, why did he even think– 

His racing thoughts are interrupted by the quiet ping of his phone and a message from you. Just a photo, no text. 

His eyes widen, taking in the image. He can’t see your face, only the shape of your tits, already so familiar to him, covered in dark, lacy fabric. Exactly the same color, exactly the same pattern as the fabric that he soiled and photographed to send to you.

You put on the matching bra for him, he realizes. Which is probably why it took you longer than usual to answer, you had to get into the lingerie and put yourself all prettily on display for him. He drinks in the shape of you, the skin that he knows would feel so soft underneath his touch, the swell of your breasts, the nipples hidden behind lace, how they would harden for him, how you would squirm if he–

Desire starts coursing through him again, and he feels like a teenager, reduced to this by just a photo. His thumb finds your name on the display almost instinctively.

“Fuck, baby.”

The rasp of his voice hits your ear as soon as you accept the call. Your heart had been hammering away inside your chest since you hit send on the photo. 

“You like it?” 

You hate how needy you sound, how desperate for his approval. David exhales sharply and you wish you were with him again.

“Trust me, I like it very much.” 

Your cheeks heat at his tone. He blows all other thoughts out of your head. You forget how rejected you felt, how you told yourself you wouldn’t let it happen again. It doesn’t matter, not when he talks to you like this. You whisper a thank you and he chuckles. 

“Are you in bed, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip, considering the words resting on the top of your tongue. Deciding to take the leap. “Wish you were here too.”

You don’t need to see his face to know how he purses his lips, how he slowly curls them into a smirk.

“Mhm? What would you like me to do if I was?” 

Your face burns hotter. 

“I– Touch me, use your fingers to–” 

He groans, a rich, deep sound in your ear. You’re still sore, but your fingertips ghost down your body anyway, chasing the need that’s building up between your legs again. You gasp when they find your clit, already swollen and covered in your slick. 

“Are you touching yourself right now?”

“Yes, please David, I need–”

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you.” 

He keeps talking to you, low murmurs in your ear, directing your fingers over your body. He doesn’t let up until you’ve come twice, until he’s reduced you to a whimpering mess without even being there. 

He doesn’t apologize for earlier, not directly at least. You didn’t expect him to. In a twisted way, that you’re not sure anyone but the two of you would understand, this was his apology. 

You’re not sure what changed his mind, but he doesn’t go back to his distant self afterwards. Maybe he’s come to the same realization as you. That neither of you is going to be able to stay away. 

He’s on your mind constantly, you catch yourself checking your phone for new messages way too often and smiling down at the screen whenever he’s texting you. You know that you shouldn’t act like this, shouldn’t give him that much power in your mind. But it feels so good, to be seen, to be wanted like that. 

You’re both busy; he’s working on an important case and you’re in desperate need to catch up on job applications and college work, which you’ve neglected over the past few days, as your father is quick to remind you. 

But you keep exchanging messages, keep sharing hushed whispers at night. It never lets up, the thrill of his voice guiding your fingers and hearing the sounds that he makes when he’s putting his hands on himself. Knowing that it’s you, the thought of you that elicits them. 

You’re having dinner with your father, who is home earlier than most days, the brightly lit dining room reflecting off the massive windows, when the bubble bursts. 

“You remember Dave, right? From the country club?”

You freeze, your fork hovering in the air over your plate. He knows, your mind screams. No, there’s no way he would know. 

You fight hard to appear nonchalant, to not let your face betray you. You nod, humming questioningly in a way that you hope sounds innocent enough. 

“I told you how he got divorced recently, didn’t I? It’s been hard on him, poor fella…” 

Your dad sighs and shakes his head. You furrow your brow, at a complete loss where this conversation might be going. 

“Well, guess who got him a date?! Cheryl from the office is single and I realized, she’s perfect for him! An amazing match. He never goes out, always been a bit of a loner, I guess… But I set them up and they went out last night! Great, huh?” 

Your mind is running a mile a minute. You force a weak smile, lifting your head to meet your father’s proud grin. 

“Y-yeah, dad. Great,” you echo. You feel hollow.

He leans back in his chair, looking extremely pleased with himself. 

“Looks like I’m gonna have to play matchmaker for you too, eventually, with the way things are going, hm?” 

Under different conditions, the snide remark about your dating life and how he’s never been even remotely happy with any guy you had dared to bring home, would sting a lot more. Right now though, you’re reeling from the fact that David went out with another woman last night. 

“Sure,” you whisper. “May I please be excused?” 

You don’t wait for an answer, already pushing back from the table and rushing up the stairs. Back in your room, you grab your phone, scrolling through your past messages. You didn’t hear from him last night, which you hadn’t found weird at the time, but it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth now. 

Maybe he finally realized that someone his age would be much better suited for him. A real woman, not some little girl who still goes to school, calls him drunk in the middle of the night and can’t stand up against her father. Of course that’s not what he wants. 

You pace in your room, thoughts running through your head. Do you confront him? You never talked about it, never discussed exclusivity, but still… You don’t want anyone else and you had thought that he wouldn’t either.

After tossing and turning in your bed for hours, you decide not to ask David about it, to not contact him at all. Maybe that’s for the best. Save him the trouble of letting you down. It’s like a weight pulling under, the uncertainty and fear of this being it tying itself into a tight knot in your stomach. But you’ve been desperate enough for him already, you try to reason, you need to stop embarrassing yourself by running after him. 

He texts you the next day, sounding just the same way he always does. You can’t bring yourself to not reply to him at all, but it’s clipped, one-sentence answers, which he picks up on soon enough. His name lights up your phone as you’re hunched over your desk in your bedroom, pondering over an essay that you’re supposed to write over the break. 

“Hello?” 

“Sweetheart.” The deep smoothness of his voice travels from the speaker right under your skin, holding you under his spell the way he always does. “Is something wrong?”

You bite your lip, muttering a no in reply. You sound like a petulant teenager, everything that you don’t want him to see you as.

“Now why do I not believe that?”

You hear his smile in the way he sounds. You want to see him so badly, want to be on the receiving end of that smile. You wonder if Cheryl from the office got to see it last night too. If he’s given her all the parts of him that he’s given you. 

“Dunno.” There’s a sting in your voice, not unlike the sting that you feel piercing through your heart at the thought of him with someone else. 

Dave frowns at the way you sound. You’re never this short with him, never seemed so sad since that night you called him drunk and he turned you down. And even then, it was different, not dismissive the way you are now. 

His anxious mind immediately provides him with a variety of explanations. Maybe you’ve finally come to your senses and realized that you don’t want him. That you don’t want a man twice your age, that him wanting you actually makes him a fucking creep, that he isn’t as great as you’ve built him up to be in your head. Maybe you’ve realized that what you’re doing is wrong. He wouldn’t blame you for it. One of you should be reasonable and end things for good. He has been telling himself that.

But you sound so upset that worry settles in his gut. He feels that pull towards you again, only that it’s not explicitly sexual this time. He just really needs to see you, to touch you, to make sure that you’re okay. 

The invitation for you to come over leaves his lips without thinking about it, just the overwhelming need to have you close. You pause, so long that he gets even more uneasy, but eventually you agree.

Dave knows that something is wrong as soon as he opens the door. You look smaller, slightly curling in on yourself. You don’t meet his gaze, eyes downturned and without the spark in them that he sees in his mind when he thinks about you. He pulls you into a hug, one that you barely return.

His bedroom door is once again firmly closed, and he’s directing you towards his couch again. Still the last invisible line, the one that he tells himself will keep him from letting you in all the way. Your eyes linger there for a moment, he can almost see the wheels turning in your head. You deflate even more.

He hates to see you like this. Fights the urge to wrap you in his arms, satisfy his hunger for your lips and fuck you until every trace of that sadness written over your face is erased.

The door that you presume leads to his bedroom is closed, just like the last time you were here. You wonder if he opened it for Cheryl, if she got to see a part of him that you didn’t. Then again, he probably treated her like a lady. Wined and dined her properly, maybe a chaste kiss to say good night. Because she’s someone who’s right for him, someone worth putting the effort in. Not the quick fuck that you had been. 

He probably invited you over to tell you in person that he really can’t see you anymore. That he means it this time. You suppose that in his mind, that’s the decent thing to do. You think that you would have rather had him text you about it. That way you wouldn’t have to pretend, wouldn’t have to tell him to his face that it’s fine, that you understand, don’t worry.

Still, he called and you came running. Like a fucking idiot. 

You sit down on the edge of his couch, decidedly keeping the images of the last time you were here buried in your memories. “Do you want something to drink?” You shake your head no and he sits down beside you. You’re acutely aware of his presence, of the simmering need that you feel for him, even now. Please just get it over with.

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know.” You’re not looking at him, keeping your eyes on your hands, your fingers gripping each other tightly, tense like the rest of your body.

“Do all what?” 

You bite your lip, attempting to swallow down the anger at the fact that he’s gonna make you the one to say it, but it’s no use. Your eyes fly up to meet his. 

“Make me come here, to talk to me in person, or whatever it is you think you’re doing. You– you could’ve just texted me.”

He furrows his brow, a hint of defensiveness in his warm brown eyes. 

“What are you talking about?” 

You scoff. “My dad told me. About your date.” You’re never like this, your voice biting and your eyes glaring. You’re never like this and you have no right to be like this now, getting worked up over the end of something that never even was, not really. “I’m sure she’s nice. A great match, he said, so you’re gonna tell me to fuck off. It’s okay, I understand.”

Your voice breaks on the last word. A lump is building in your throat and your eyes burn with unshed tears. This can’t be happening. It’s bad enough that you feel this much about it, but it’s indefinitely worse to have him know it. 

David’s expression softens. “Oh, sweetheart. That’s not–” He slips one hand in between yours, gently pries your fingers away from each other. “You thought that’s why I asked you to come over here?” 

You shrug, once again unable to meet his gaze. 

“The date was shit. I wouldn’t even have gone if Jim hadn’t kept bugging me about it.”

Inhaling deeply, you slowly trail your eyes up to his face again. 

“Really?”

He nods, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest. His lips press against your forehead. 

“Promise.” He sighs. “You sounded so upset, that’s why I asked you to come–”

You sniffle, suddenly feeling stupid about the whole scene you made. He holds you a little longer, and you revel in his scent that’s engulfing you, in the warmth and solidness of his body. When he finally pulls away, his hand finds your chin and lifts it until you’re looking straight at him. A hint of amusement is glinting in his eyes.

“Were you jealous, baby?” 

You’re well aware that he can see right through you, but shake your head anyway. He allows himself a grin.

“What then? Worried that you’ll find no one else to fuck you like I do?” 

Heat is burning in your cheeks, but you can’t help but laugh. He’s not wrong, at least partially. 

Your lips curling up and the soft laugh tumbling out of you soothes him, eases the sting in his chest. The severity of your reaction to the idea of him dumping you for another woman took him off guard. He never wants to see that kind of hurt written over your face ever again. 

He should have told you, he realizes that now. He knew nothing would come out of meeting with that woman that Jim had been boasting about all week, but what was he supposed to say? No need pal, I already got everything I need fucking your daughter? 

He doesn’t know when you began feeling like everything he needed. He knows that you shouldn’t. He knows that he shouldn’t check his phone as often as he does, shouldn’t spend his days fantasizing about you, shouldn’t imagine you by his side almost constantly. 

But how can he not, when you’re looking at him like this, your eyes so wide, so filled with trust. Always ready, always desperate to give him everything of you. Like a dream come true that he didn’t know he had. 

“Maybe,” you admit, teasingly but still so, so soft. Everything about you is so fucking soft. His to touch, his to defile. Because, inexplicably, you fucking let him.

He needs to reassure you that he’s worthy of that trust. He leans in closer, feels your breath ghosting over his face as his nose nudges against yours. He pauses, searches your expression for a moment. You dip your chin down in a tiny nod and he’s onto you, chases your mouth with his. He pours all the emotion that he doesn’t understand, can’t begin to name, into the kiss. How much he misses you, how often you are on his mind. How he doesn’t want to hurt you, wants to do right by you, but has no clue how.

Your lips move against his with more fervor, a mess of tongues and teeth clashing against one another. Your whimpers drip into his mouth, leaving him drunk off you. Heat spreads through him, like a fire that’s going to consume you both. He thinks that he wants it to. 

He trails kisses down your throat, sucks at the skin, relishes in the shivers that it sends through your body. You grasp at his shirt, trembling fingers fumbling with the buttons, but he stops you. Nipping at your collarbone, he looks up at you, takes in your wide blown pupils, the hunger in your eyes.

Maybe this is all he can give you, but he’s going to do that right. He’s going to give you what he can, as long as you let him. 

He hooks his fingers under the neckline of your dress, pulls it down a little, inhales the sweet scent of your perfume. Every new inch of your skin that he reveals fills him with the need to worship it. 

“Will you let me make it up to you, sweetheart?” He mouths at your skin again, his eyes still trained on your face. “Let me make you feel good?” 

You nod eagerly, a breathy please, David falling from your lips. He runs his hands up your thighs, marvels at the almost feverish warmth of your skin, before he lifts your dress and helps you pull it over your head. 

Your underwear is white this time, a picture of innocence that only he knows is an illusion. His arousal swells at the thought, his cock pushing against the confines of his pants. 

“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this,” he admits, his hands trailing over your waist, tightening his grip momentarily and enjoys watching you squirm in response. “I think about you all the time.” 

Your gaze flickers for a moment, and he realizes what he just said. It’s not a lie, but also not a truth that he intended for you to know. You bite your lip, expression turning thoughtful for a moment. Then a small smile spreads over your face. 

“M–me too,” you whisper, a bit shy, like you’re still half-expecting him to take it back, but putting your trust in him anyway. 

He has to kiss you again, remove all remaining doubts about how much he wants you from your mind. Licking into your mouth, he starts toying with the cups of your bra, pulling them down just so that his fingertips can graze over your nipples. You press your body into his touch, your back arching off the cushions, and he undoes the clasp, lets the fabric fall away from your body. 

He runs his fingers over your flesh, teases the hardening buds, loves the way you keen into his mouth in response. Palming your tits roughly, he pulls away a little to look at them. He doesn’t think that he’ll ever tire of the sight of his hands on you. 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmurs. “Like you were made for me.” It stings only a little right in this moment, while he’s touching you, to know that you are not. He can keep pretending, for a while. It’s worth it, seeing how you light up at the praise, how you drink in his every word, sinking deeper into his touch. His, his, his.

David peels your panties off of you, the image of the white lace against his hand one that you know will burn itself into your memory. His eyes linger on the fabric, a grin slowly growing on his face. Arousal tingles at your spine at the sight. You’re entirely bare now while he hasn’t removed one item of clothing. The obvious power dynamic leaves you feeling vulnerable, you and your body at his mercy, but you trust him. To treat you the way you want, need to be treated, to push you to your limits and to still keep you safe.

The weight of his hands lands on your thighs, slowly pushing them apart, making room for his body between them. You’re acutely aware of how wet you are, and how clearly he can see it right now, with your folds all spread out right in front of him. You feel your slick coating your inner thighs, feel his breath ghosting against it.

He groans at the sight and sinks to his knees, almost at eye level with your pussy. The realization of what he’s about to do sinks in as he leans forward and places a gentle kiss against your clit that has you trembling. But still–

“Y–you don’t have to do that,” you stutter, suddenly feeling a different kind of vulnerable. A shame that you can’t explain starts welling up inside of you. 

He pulls back, sitting back on his haunches and looking up at you. His hands gently push your thighs back together, leaving you less exposed. 

“Do you not want me to?”

You bite your lip, fighting not to avoid his gaze. “I don’t know. I– I’ve never–” Your voice trails off. A fire is burning in his eyes, intimidating you. 

“No one’s ever eaten you out?” He sounds incredulous. 

You shake your head, shoulders moving up in a shrug, a wave of embarrassment growing in you. “Men don’t really… like to. In my experience.” 

He sighs and leans forward, presses a soft kiss to your left knee. “Most men are idiots.” It’s mumbled into your skin, lips moving against it. His fingertips inch up your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “You deserve to feel good, baby.” His voice sinks into your skin, low and raspy, and you have no choice but to believe it. “Will you let me make you feel good?” he asks again.

His dark eyes are on you, his fingers still tracing shapes over your skin. So close to where you want him. You’d let him do anything. 

“Please, David,” you whisper, for the second time. 

He pries your legs back open, a low growl in his throat as you’re spread out for him. Then he dives in, licking and sucking at your clit, gently at first, but quickly getting more intense, until stars start to burst behind your eyelids and you’re gasping his name. It’s overwhelming, unlike anything that you’ve ever experienced before. 

He lets up momentarily, licking through your slit, drinking up your arousal that’s dripping out of you and groaning at the taste of you. His mouth moves to your inner thighs, kissing and sucking on the sensitive flesh. He bites down suddenly, sinking his teeth into your skin and you scream his name at the unexpected burst of pain that transforms into pleasure almost instantly. 

He does it again, and again, leaving his marks on your body. It hurts just right, the sensation of him leaving his trace on you, marking you as his. You clench around nothing, desperate to feel him on your clit again, to take you the final bit to the top. 

As if he was reading your mind, he lets up his ministrations on your thighs and kisses his way to the spot where you need him so desperately. Your fingers sink into his hair, tugging at the roots, and he looks up at you, smug pride glinting in his eyes. He licks through your folds, nudges at your entrance with his tongue, before his lips find your clit again, closing around the sensitive nub. 

You come within seconds, the waves of your arousal crashing over you so suddenly that it takes your breath away. His groans vibrate against your skin as he laps at you, drinking you down. You feel like you’re in heaven. 

David gives you time to calm down, gently mouths at your heated skin, licks over the spots where you feel the indents of his teeth, before he kisses his way up your body. You taste yourself on his lips when they connect with yours. It’s messy, and filthy, and you can’t get enough of it. 

You whimper when he pulls back and his eyes find yours again, his almost black, the pupils blown wide. He rises to his feet and looks down to where you’re spread out, thighs parted, on full display for him as he towers over you. He leans down, a finger tapping against your mouth.

“Open.” 

Your lips part immediately, giving him all the access he wants. He groans at your obedience, trails his knuckles over your cheek for a moment, before raising his hand to your eyes. He’s holding your panties again. 

“These are so pretty. Would be a shame to just leave them lying around, don’t you think?” 

You let out a sound, something akin to agreement. His grin widens. 

“Good girl.” 

His fingers push the fabric into your mouth, your spit soaking the material, mixing with the arousal that’s already sticking to it. You moan at the taste, your eyelids fluttering shut. 

His palm connects with your cheek in a light slap. Not hard enough to sting, but your eyes fly back open at the sensation. You grind down onto the cushions, desperate for friction as another wave of need floods you. 

“Eyes on me, remember?” 

You try voicing a sorry, but it comes out garbled and he chuckles. Soothing his fingers over the spot he just slapped. 

“There’s no need for you to talk. Just be a good girl and take what I give you, yeah?” 

Your body is buzzing, but your mind is blissfully empty. Ready to give yourself over to him, to submit to whatever he asks. It feels so good, so easily being able to please for once in your life. To follow rules and be praised for it. Simple. Safe. 

He wraps the lace around your head and ties it together in the back, effectively gagging you, leaving your mouth opened, the fabric stretching against the corners. Your desire is coursing through your body with so much force that it’s almost painful. 

He kisses you over the gag, pressing his lips against yours. One of his hands wraps around your throat, applying a hint of pressure. Your hips chase him, your arousal close to unbearable. He chuckles against your mouth before he pulls back.

“Such a good girl.”

He teases you endlessly. Drinks in the sight of you writhing under him as his fingers are back on your nipples, tugging them harshly and eliciting soft mewls from you. You look beautiful in the golden light of the evening sun that’s falling through his windows, almost angelic. 

An angel that he wrecked, already so fucked out when he finally sheds his own clothes and starts sliding his cock through your folds. He coats himself with the slick of your desire, taps his head against your clit, nudges at your entrance again and again without sliding inside. 

Your whimpering cries are music to his ears, your fingernails digging into his shoulders sting just right. You’re pleading with him through the makeshift gag, your words all muffled, and he revels in the desperation in your eyes. Loves the sight of it. 

“What do you want, sweetheart?” he coos, slides over your clit again. “Tell me.” 

You’re trying, trying so hard to get out real words, and he chuckles at your efforts. Deciding to grant you a little mercy, he pushes the head of his weeping cock into you. He throbs at the feeling of it, of how your slick pissy tries pulling him in deeper. You’re whining at the stretch, your hands desperately grabbing at him, before he pulls back again. 

Your eyes are swimming with tears, silently pleading with him. It’s like a rush. You’re always such a good, polite and well-behaved girl, so sweet, and here you are, completely bare and spread out underneath him, crying to get fucked. By him. He’s a bad man, he knows it. He doesn’t care, not when it feels like this. 

He smirks down at you. “Say please.” 

It’s obvious that you’re trying, your tongue struggling against the soaked fabric in your mouth. He lines himself up once more, looks at your face, at the desperate hope written out in your eyes. Then he slams into you. You scream, gripping his shoulders so tightly that he thinks you’ve drawn blood. He couldn’t care less.

Now that he feels your tight walls all around his cock, engulfing him with pulsing heat, it’s impossible to tease you any longer. He pulls back, just to sink deep into you, again and again. You cry out at every thrust, every time that he hits that spot deep inside of you that leaves you such a trembling mess. 

He can tell when you’re starting to tighten around him, your cries getting higher, and he knows that you’re close. Slowing down, he leans his head down to yours, his thrusts becoming more shallow. 

“Hold it,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting against the soft shell of your ear. A whine escapes from your throat, fresh tears falling from your eyes, your whole body trembling underneath him, your cunt squeezing him deliciously tight. He’s breathless, high on the control you’re giving him, on your level of obedience, doing every single thing that he asks from you. 

Letting you calm down a little, he busies himself with kissing every inch of your skin that he can reach. Almost bursting with arousal himself, he knows that he’s not gonna be able to keep this up much longer. 

When he speeds up again, he sets a harsh rhythm, jostling your body with every thrust, mesmerized by the way your tits bounce with the movement. Your walls start tightening around him again, pulling him in. He can’t hold back anymore. 

“I’m gonna come. Gonna leave you just as messy as those little panties of yours. ‘S that what you want?” 

You nod eagerly, more unintelligible pleads stumbling through the gag. 

“Fuck, come here–“ His fingers scramble, ripping the fabric out of your mouth to kiss you properly, to feel your tongue against his. 

His hips move at rapid speed, pumping into you and chasing both your orgasms. He’s breathless, high on the feeling of your wet cunt squeezing him so tight. You come with a cry, muffled by his mouth on yours, and the sensation of you clenching around him sends him over the edge as well. He buries himself deep inside of you, spilling his cum to leave you just as messy as he promised you. 

“Fucking perfect, like you were made for me, only want you sweetheart…” He’s rambling, barely aware of what he's saying, still lost in the bliss of his orgasm. The words only register when an unreadable expression flies over your face in reaction. Shit. He goes through things to say, ways to somehow explain, though he couldn’t even explain the words to himself. 

His mind quiets when you smile shyly and burrow your face in his neck. He moves the both of you until you’re a tangle of intertwined limbs, resting on his cushions, watching as the light slowly fades outside. You’re warm in his arms, your breath coming softly, fanning against his skin. It feels too right to be wrong, he decides silently. 

The peaceful silence between you breaks with a chime from his phone, a message from  your father. 

“Looks like I’m invited to have dinner at yours,” he says, turning the screen towards you. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, grabbing for your own phone to check the time. “I should get going.” 

He helps you get dressed, until your still soaked panties end up in his hands again. His eyes flit up and down your body, lingering on the hem of your skirt, on the bare thighs beneath them. You take a step closer, your hand stretched out for them, but he pulls them away, sliding them into his pocket. 

A smirk grazes your features as you take another step closer. “Again? Really?” 

He shrugs, takes your hand to pull you into him. Your responding giggle is a sound that he’ll never get tired of. He sneaks a hand under your dress, palms your bare ass and presses your body against his. 

“Be a good girl and stay like this, for dinner,” he murmurs against your lips, before he kisses you once more. 

A grin slowly grows on your face as you realize what he’s saying. 

“Deal,” you agree, your eyes glinting. 

You’re sitting down next to him, sliding into the chair beside him with the most innocent, sweetest smile to both your father and him. You’re still wearing the dress that you left his place in, the one that, if you’ve been good, you’re bare underneath. 

He reaches for you almost instantly, hidden under the tabletop, the pull towards your skin too strong to resist. You tense up for a moment, throwing him a quick glance, before you relax into his touch. He draws circles, featherlight on your skin, and you part your thighs a little more, allowing him to slide further between them. 

Focussing on the conversation with your father isn’t easy, not when you’re right here beside him, so pliant under his touch. 

“So, how was it with Cheryl?” your father asks, far too invested in the whole thing for Dave’s liking. You’re looking down at your plate, your shoulders slumped forward. 

He shrugs, his hand traveling upwards, beneath the hem of your skirt, pulling your thighs apart a little more. “She’s nice, but– Not the right fit for me, I think.” 

The memory of meeting the woman flashes through his mind. “You must be Dave,” accompanied by a shake of his hand. All wrong, so different from the way it sounds when David falls from your lips. He had wanted to leave right then and there. His grip on you tightens at the memory. 

“Well that’s a shame,” Jim sighs, leaning back in his chair. “I really thought you two were a good match.” 

Dave grunts noncommittally, taking another bite of his food. 

“This one,” your father continues, his eyes falling to you, “has yet to find a good match as well. Not the best choices so far.” He chuckles, either blind or indifferent to the way you seem to shrink in your chair. You mumble something about focussing on school and your career right now, your voice so small that it breaks Dave’s heart. 

“Boys your age are idiots anyway,” he says, grinning at how your eyes widen, his emphasis on your age in no way lost on you. “Wouldn’t want to have them distracting you, right?” 

You nod silently, but fire burns in your eyes when his hand reaches so high that his fingers swirl through the slick that’s covering your upper thighs. Dave grits his teeth, fighting the urge to kiss you right here and now, consequences be damned.

It’s wrong, it’s so so wrong, but it’s like he’s lost in a haze, high on the feeling of your skin under his fingertips. On the way your thighs fall open so willingly for him, always such a good and obedient girl. On the way you both know that you’re bare underneath your skirt, dripping with the filthy proof of what you did together. On the way he’s staked his claim all over your inner thighs, to the point that he’s certain the indents of his teeth are still pressed into your flesh. All while your father has no idea what’s happening right in front of him. 

The secret rebellion of it thrills you, he understands that now. He wonders if that’s what he is to you, an opportunity to do something so deliciously forbidden that you couldn’t resist. He’ll gladly be that for you. The idea to be the person who brought this out in you thrills him too. 

He somehow makes it through the evening. Not a single conversation topic has found its way into his memories. All he can think about, all that he knows he will remember is the feeling of you under his tight grip. All his. 

You had excused yourself when your father brought out the whiskey, squeezed his hand under the table before you stood up, carefully smoothing out your skirt. Call me, you had mouthed, turning back to look at him before exiting the room. 

He knows that he will.

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider putting a smile on my face by reblogging, commenting or sending in an ask <3 thank you for reading!

[lovexjoe]

On the Run Mini Series

part 2 warnings: angst, mention of suicide, mention of abuse, cursing

As they woke up from the most uncomfortable but well needed rest, Armando immediately felt guilty for the way he cut the conversation with Kayla. Her eyes were a blood shot red and puffy. He didn’t know what she went through and by the looks of it, probably just as rough. She doesn’t cry ever and he clearly hit a wound. She remained quiet the rest of the way their way through the forest.

“Growing up was tough. My mom raised me in prison till I was 6 then I was sent off with someone from the cartel.” He looks at her and she looks at him giving a small smile of appreciation. She knew this wasn’t easy to share.

“My dad was abusive to me and my mom. She uh committed suicide. I ran away with my boyfriend at the time and he was even worse. I almost died.” His heart hurt at hearing how cruel her up bringing was. He didn’t want to pity her so he didn’t apologize. But a women should never experience abuse like that and hoped those two pieces of shits got their karma.

The two by the luck of god came across a ran down trailer park, but clearly was occupied. Kayla gives Armando the signal to stay back as she sees men roaming around outside. She takes two steps and Armando pulls her back.

“¡¿Estás loca?!” He scolds her for even wanting to put herself in danger. She puts her hand over his mouth, and mouths just trust me. Did she know what she was doing? Nope. Armando fumingly stayed back knowing this was probably going to backfire. He couldn't hear what the men were saying, but he noticed their flirty gestures and immediately turned green. Was he jealous? Even he wouldn't admit to it.

Okay she was using the fact that she was a women to get what she wants. So what? Desperate times come for desperate measures. One of the dudes went back into their homes and returned with an older lady who couldn't help but love Kayla. Armando could not believe that this was happening right now. These people clearly did not own a tv or else they would know their faces are probably all over the news right now. Kayla was given clothes, some toiletries that could be spared and keys to an old car that wasn't in use of them anymore. Was this all too sweet and smoothing sailing? Yea but God does exist.

Kayla throws Armando the key and he catches it.

"Drive and lose the attitude. You're welcome." She gets into the passaenger seat and sighs happily.

"What did you even tell them?" Armando eyes straight on the road ahead.

"Sometimes people are just caring Armando. Just be happy and not a grumpy asshole?" Kayla teases him.

He gives her a side eye and it just confirms how much he’s like Mike after all.

“The car won’t last the whole way home but let’s enjoy it while we have it.” She dozed off for a little while, before waking up and hearing the car comes to a stop. The sun is gonna set soon, she notices the stream that they were parked by.

“We need to freshen up, unless you wanna stink up the car the whole way home.” Armando grins as she shoots him a dirty look. He just loves to get under her skin.

She found a huge rock to shower behind. Stripping off, she laid her new clothes on the rock so it doesn’t get wet. The cold water felt refreshing against her skin. She washed away all the dried up blood, careful not to touch any of her recent wounds. God bless the people that helped us she said to herself as she washes her hair with shampoo, the fresh scent of green apple filling the air. You reached for the body wash that was slated on the edge of the rock, when her wet hand touched Armando's.

"S-sorry!" Her teeth clattered from how cold the water was. She stepped back only to have her foot caught into some rocks at the bottom of the stream. Her scream got Armando's attention and he was rightfully annoyed cause how clumsy can you be?

"Now what happened!?" He grumbles as he washes the remaining soap off of his body.

"My f-foot is stuck in the rocks and its pressing into my cut on my ankle" Kayla cries out not wanting to admit she needed help, but she was seriously fucked. The gash on her calf to her ankle starting to burn as it was reopened.

"I will help you-"

"I'm naked!"

"Do you want my help or not!? Besides you're probably not much to look at anyways"

Ouch

"Okay..." Kayla responds quietly as she covers her breast as much she could. Armando comes around fully clothed, wetting his new pair of jeans because his partner is the clumsiest person he has ever met. When she comes into his view he immediately takes back what he said. She was a sight to see. He tried his best not to stare as he kicks the rock loose and picks her up. Fuck his clothes getting wet. For the first time he saw her in a different light. He held her still, taking in the green apple scent that filled the air around her. His warm hands on her cold waist, he notices her uneasy breathing and he presses their forehead together. This women can not have him feeling these things.

"Estás bien?" The way his hands felt on her waist ignited a fire within her that she didn't know exist. She could only whisper a yes as he slowly pulls away. Both yearning for the other one to make the first move, but to prideful to admit it. As he fully leaves her view, she lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. What was happening?

He hates me and I hate him that's how this goes....

✯•´¨*•✿ ✿•*¨•✯✯•´¨*•✿✿•*¨•✯✯•´¨*•✿✿•*¨•✯✯•´¨*•✿✿•*¨•✯

TagList

@armandosbabymama @dyttomori @bbyplutosblog @vergilnelosparda @believeinthefireflies95

@yeahnohoneybye @cardi-bre91 @onlysarang @romanreignsluver1 @minwn

Part 1

[spacebarbarianweird]

Instinct

Synopsis: Astarion and Tiriel have a very busy night after a battle and have to deal with unexpected consequences.

Tags: smut, breeding, hurt/comfort, some emotional angst It's not exactly a breeding fic since neither Astarion nor Tiriel planned to have a child, but the shameless smut ended with unplanned pregnancy. And now they have to deal with what comes next. Bonus: you will learn why Astarion calls Alethaine 'princess'

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Tiriel won’t let them take her home from her.

She has never had one. Always a stranger, always a wanderer, but Daggerlake became her home. A place that welcomed both her and Astarion, thanking them for saving the townsfolk from a nasty fey pact.

Ever since then, Tiriel belongs – she has had a roof above her head and friends among the townsfolk. And even Astarion can relax because the town has a vast underground part where he is safe in the shadows without having to hide.

And those bandits decided they could take it away from Tiriel?

They should have thought better!

Tiriel steps over a dead body. The fight is over and so is her rage. She single-handedly finished off a dozen of these men and women who didn’t know who their enemy was. 

But her body wishes for more – more fight, more blood, more rage.

She looks around trying to see Astarion, but he is nowhere to be seen. It’s night and Astarion rushed to the surface part of the town letting the people of Daggerlake protect their homes and families while he, a full-fledged vampire, was going to show those bandits they had chosen the wrong town to attack.

Suddenly, someone grabs the fistful of her hair forcing her to gasp.

“Astarion?”

She looks at him and innate fear pierces her. They've been together for twenty years, but Tiriel hardly remembers him looking like this.

He looks like a vampire.

Like a vampire on a hunt.

His eyes glow red, and his clothes are soaked in blood. His skin feels feverish and his pupils are dilated. 

Tiriel knows it’s him but she also can’t suppress her fear. He is a predator, a hunter, a vampire. Should he be her enemy, she won’t be able to protect herself.

He pulls her closer and kisses her. Tiriel feels the blood of a dozen dead enemies on his lips. His strong hands squeeze her and she knows he will fuck her right here among the dead bodies in the streets of their hometown if she allows it.

Tiriel answers him with the same passion – he wants to be a dangerous vampire? Good to know – because she can be a wild warrior girl who takes what she desires.

But Astarion isn't in the mood for being dominated, and he drags Tiriel back to their home – anyone who would see them right now would think this an assault, not a prelude to lovemaking.

Astarion pushes Tiriel behind the gate. As he closes it, Tiriel gets a sudden idea.

If he wants to be a predator tonight, she should let him play till the end.

She drops her ax on the ground and rushes inside the house – there aren't many places to hide but she is going to let him chase her. And maybe fight a bit. 

“And where do you think you are going?” He growls. His voice sounds different and even scary. Nothing more intimidating than a blood-drunk vampire.

“Such a terrifying vampire needs to hunt his prey,” Tiriel laughs.

“Don’t tease me, wild girl!”

She rushes to their bedroom, but before she even manages to think about her next move Astarion jumps on her from the ceiling, pinning her to the floor.

And then he starts ripping her clothes off.

Tiriel roars and pushes Astarion with all her remaining strength. He pulls away but only for a moment before sinking his fangs in her neck. She gasps from the sudden pain but still tries to knock him down.

With every moment her movements become weaker and she finally stops resisting letting Astarion ravish her body.

He pulls away studying her face. 

“On your knees.”

Tiriel abides. Her shirt is ripped and shows off her breasts.

“Good girl,” he mutters, getting rid of his own clothes. His cock is painfully hard and Tiriel cannot think about anything but having it inside her.

He approaches her, tugs her by her shirt’s collar, and pushes her to the bed. He tears the rest of her clothes off and bites her again.

Tiriel’s world shrinks to these two things – pleasure and pain.

Astarion doesn’t waste any time and penetrates Tiriel, causing her to yelp.

His thrusts are rough and so are his touches. 

Tiriel, drunk with her own rage, keeps fighting back – she scratches his skin, tugs his hair, tries to push him as if he was assaulting her and every one of her movements makes Astarion wilder, rougher, scarier.

She manages to get away from under him, but he immediately presses her chest-down into the bed. Now, he fucks her from behind placing his blood-hot palm on her back.

Slap.

His palm leaves a red print on her butt and Tiriel gasps.

“Astarion-” Tiriel mewls as he leans to wrap his hands around her chest. He pierces her shoulder and keeps moving roughly.

He comes with a guttural groan and kisses Tiriel so intensely she is afraid to suffocate.

And instead of pulling away, he proceeds to fuck her again.

This time, he is very gentle and his eyes don’t glow anymore. 

“Astarion!” she gasps when he bites her breasts. 

“Delicious,” he mutters, licking the droplets of blood from her sensitive skin.

His second orgasm comes simultaneously with hers and she clenches around him forcing Astarion to stay inside her. 

Astarion sees it as permission for the third round. He sits up and places her hips on his lap. 

She squirms riding her orgasm and cries out something incoherent, but it seems like Astarion isn’t going to stop any time soon.

Tiriel has a weird feeling his heart is beating.

“Such a good girl,” he hisses. “And all mine.”

“All yours.”

Astarion moans in her ear and she feels his seed leaking down her sore thighs once again.

As it happens, Tiriel feels the world fading away, and the last thing she sees is Astarion’s red eyes.

**

When Tiriel wakes up, her body is sore and her skin feels disgusting. The mess between her legs has caked and the bite marks all over her body itch.

She gets up and gasps with a sudden pain – her body is covered in bruises, and she doesn't know which of them are from her enemies and which are from her lover.

Probably teasing Astarion was a bad idea.

She needs to bathe.

Tiriel puts her legs on the floor and notices her clothes folded up carefully. 

And repaired.

She smiles at the thought that all these hours of her sleep Astarion was right there sewing and watching her. He loves watching her sleep. When she asked him about this habit before, he confessed that he didn’t see a point in looking at anything else but her. 

Tiriel opens the door of the bathroom – Astarion sits in the hot water with a book he puts down the second she enters.

“Careful, darling, entering like that. I might want another round.”

“I can barely walk. Spare me, my lord.”

Astarion chuckles and tugs Tiriel into the bathtub.

“How much did I sleep?”

“Almost a day.”

Tiriel sits beside him and Astarion places his head on her chest.

“You know, everyone would think we should be less passionate two decades into our relationship.”

Astarion kisses her shoulder. “You are not getting any colder.”

“Oh no, you love me only for my body warmth! And what if some vampire turns me into an undead?”

Astarion doesn't answer immediately. A decade ago this joke would offend him so much he wouldn’t have talked to her for the whole day – but the nightmares and terrors of his past life have been left behind.

“Then we would lie in each other arms in front of a fireplace, forever young, forever beautiful”

She caresses his ears and he nuzzles her collarbone. 

Then Tiriel looks into the water.

“How much did you drink yesterday?”

“A lot.”

Tiriel sighs and straddles his lap, feeling his hardness between her legs. Astarion doesn’t hesitate – a second later, she is already rolling her hips as his cold cock gets warmer inside of her.

“You know… You feel much better… when you are like that,” she admits. “Cold, no heartbeat. That’s more to my liking.”

**

Tiriel feels awful. It seems like her own body is revolting against her.

“Go to see the healer,” Astarion asks. “Tiriel, honestly, if you don't go yourself, I will drag you there.”

“Tyrant.”

“And you behave like a child! Gods, sometimes I forget I am 200 years older than you!”

Tiriel looks at him and frowns. “You are not.”

“Tiriel, you are my sunshine and my love, but your lack of cognitive abilities is beyond me. How old were you when we met?”

“Thirty-six.”

“Good. By that time, I had been enslaved for 200 years and I was turned at 39. I am more than two centuries older than you.”

Tiriel wants to say something, but she vomits again.

“I'm just sick! Aaah!”

Astarion pulls her up and slings her on his shoulder as if she were his war bounty.

Despite all her efforts, she can’t free herself and accepts her fate. Thankfully, it's rather late and most of the townsfolk are asleep, though she notices a jealous look from a baker.

“Put me on the ground.”

“Let them see what real relationships look like. You know that the blacksmith’s daughters asked me where they can find vampires like me?”

“Hope you didn't send them to the Underdark?”

“I told them I am one of a kind,” Astarion slaps her butt. “But we need to remind these people who we are.”

Astarion stays outside as Tiriel enters the healer’s hut – its owner, a halfling woman, looks at her with annoyance.

“What happened, Tiriel?”

“I am fine!  My husband forced me to visit you.” Tiriel describes the symptoms. “I think I got food poisoning.”

“Food poisoning… Tell me, Tiriel, when was the last time you bled?”

Tiriel ponders. Her cycle has always been irregular –- a common thing among half-elfs. Humans are the most fertile race in Faerun, whilst elves are known to see their rare children as gifts from gods. So, Tiriel’s rare menstruations are unexpected obstacles, not something she should endure once a month. 

And besides, she sleeps with an elf AND a vampire. 

“I don’t remember. Maybe last winter.”

The healer hands her a tiny bundle of herbs. “Chew it. But don’t eat.”

The taste is so gross that Tiriel almost vomits again. She spews it on the floor - and the herb slowly changes its color to black.

“What’s the fuck is that?”

“Tastes like bile, doesn’t it? Oh, why do I have to go through all of this… I knew it couldn’t end well when we invited you two to stay here. You are pregnant.”

“I am… what?”

“You are pregnant, Tiriel.”

“With all due respect – my husband is a fucking vampire! I think his ability to fuck a child into anyone went to the grave along with his breathing, heart beating, and food preferences!”

“I am sure I’ve heard of half-vampires. Now go! I have more urgent patients to take care of. You know, it was a bad idea to use the innkeeper like a battering ram!”

Tiriel leaves the hut feeling as if she was just hit with something heavy.

“Tiriel?” Astarion looks worriedly. “What did she say?”

Tiriel is so scared she wants to cry. There is something inside her, something alive and growing – she can think of her husband as an elf all she wants, but right now she carries something half-dead inside her. Something unnatural. Something… that belongs to the shadows more than to the realm of mortals.

“My sweet, what is it?” Astarion demands. “What happened?”

And Tiriel confesses.

“Maybe… is it a mistake? She could have made a mistake! Gods! No, it can’t be…” He panics.

“Too much blood,” Tiriel says.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve drunk too much, remember? I could hear your heartbeat. You were almost alive…. And I…” Tiriel hesitates. “I have my period once a year. It probably was the day when I could conceive.”

Astarion shakes his head. He gets anxious. Scared. She knows this face too well.

“Astarion!” She tries to grab his hand, but the vampire is too fast. In a moment, he disappears in the tunnels. “Astarion!”

Tiriel stays alone in the streets. She sniffs and returns back home, so quiet and silent.

She can’t imagine Astarion leaving her, but she also can’t imagine herself pregnant. 

Maybe he is right, the healer could have been mistaken. She needs to wait. Yes, Tiriel needs to wait.

Astarion doesn’t return in the morning. He doesn’t return the next day. Tiriel feels terrible – she can barely eat or walk. The very thought of going after her husband feels exhausting – she just wants to lie in her bed without making any coherent movement.

She also constantly cries – Tiriel tries to justify it with the feeling of loneliness, but deep inside she knows the answer.

These are the mood swings a pregnant woman endures. 

**

Astarion has never felt so shitty and pathetic in the last twenty years.

He despises himself for his fear and doubts.

His nature demands him to run. To leave and never return. Whatever Tiriel has inside, he can’t deal with it. He can’t be a parent. He doesn't want to become one.

Two centuries of enslavement – only twenty years of freedom. And now what? Will he be stuck raising a child? Which might be born so deranged and ugly it will be barely a sentient being.

He can run. He can disappear and leave Tiriel. She is a beautiful brave woman, the moment the townsfolk realize Astarion is gone there will be a line of men and women courting her.

Even with a monster child.

He walks through Secomber, a sleepy town on the border between the Sword Coast and the High Wood. It took him two days to get here and now he tries to make up his mind.

And what if it’s not his? Tiriel is so loyal and loving, but what if she wanted someone warm, someone who didn’t drink her blood? She could have gotten drunk and picked a man for a one-night stand.

No, it’s not like her.

Astarion is just a pathetic coward who can’t bear responsibility. 

He has to come back. He can’t abandon the only person he ever truly loved and who never abandoned him even in his darkest hours.

But he is still afraid. He is paralyzed.

Suddenly he hears a loud cry.

He turns around and sees a human girl, maybe four or five (he still has issues with understanding human age, always assuming someone is younger than they are). She sits on the side of the road, her dress, a tiny copy of an adult one, is dirty, and her knee is bruised. The girl sobs as tears flow down her cheeks.

A weird feeling stirs in Astarion’s undead heart. A desire to console this child, to do something to stop her from crying. She is so vulnerable, so scared… and where the fuck are her parents, or whoever is responsible?!

The door to the tavern opens and a young man rushes to the girl.

“Daddy, I’ve fallen down… and…” She cries, wrapping her hands around his neck.

“That’s all, right, princess,” he answers, stroking her back. Suddenly the man turns around and notices Astarion. “Are you looking for something?”

“What? No, I just heard the cries.”

“Well, she cries so loud she can be heard in Daggerlake. If you need a room, there is another inn on the western side of the town. We are out of beds today.”

Astarion shakes his head. No. He is going back. The sunrise will meet him in the woods and he will hide in a cave. He will be back to Tiriel in two days, begging her to forgive him.

Because he can’t live without her. And he…he wants to experience what is coming next.

“Princess… An interesting pet name,” Astarion chuckles. The girl has already stopped crying and now she watches the vampire with curiosity.

“Yeah, we are far from nobles,” the innkeeper smiles. “But she is my only daughter and who are girls to their fathers if not princesses?” with these words he kisses the girl’s forehead and enters the inn, closing the door.

**

Astarion walks inside the house. Tiriel is fast asleep, he can hear her breathing. The kitchen is messy – it seems like his half-elf wife was hungry all these days but didn’t have any strength to clean the mess.

Astarion comes to the bedroom and lies beside her. Tiriel opens her eyes and touches his cheek with tender fingers.

“I knew you would be back.”

“I am sorry. I was scared.”

“I was, too. But I can’t run away from what is inside me.”

“I know, love. I will never do this again”

Tiriel places her cheek on his chest. “If the child is half-undead, can I ever carry it?”

“I don’t know.”

They lie in silence holding each other in their hands. 

“You know… I’ve been deprived of mortality,” Astarion says. “Everything normal was taken away from me. And yet I am here. Married. With my own house. Free to do anything I want. When I was in Secomber, I saw a man with his daughter. And you know, I just… wanted the same thing. To carry my own child in my arms. Because it’s a normal mortal thing and if so, I will be no different from that young innkeeper who calls his baby daughter ‘princess’.”

Tiriel caresses his cheek. “I need to go to that innkeeper and ask if he needs anything for returning my husband to me.”

“You need to see the girl. Such a lovely little creature,” he smiles. 

“Ours will be lovely too.”

Astarion elbows up. “Tiriel… we are going to keep it, aren’t we?”

Tiriel sighs. She did think about terminating, Astarion realizes. In those dark hours when he was hiding like a coward.

“I want to keep it,” Tiriel says. “Besides… I am still a half-elf. It’s not like miscarriages are rare among my race. Let’s see how it works out.”

Astarion smiles and finally relaxes enough to meditate. 

Druids hate the undead because, unlike nature, they can't change. He will prove them all wrong. His life is changing and he is too.

In the best and scariest way possible.

He puts his palm on Tiriel’s flat belly. Somehow, he is sure they are going to have a girl. -- Tag list

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[theostrophywife]

kiss with a fist | chapter six.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: w.i.t.c.h. - devon cole

author's note: some cute soft fluff cause i'm in a tender mood.

In all your years at Hogwarts, you could count the amount of times you’ve attended a quidditch game on one hand and you wouldn't even need to utilize all of your fingers. Needless to say, you weren’t really into the rowdiness and belligerence of sporting events, but a bargain was a bargain. You were just glad to have Luna with you. Even if it meant enduring Pansy Parkinson’s presence. 

“Be nice,” Luna warned as you approached the stands. 

“I won’t bite if she doesn’t,” you murmured back. 

Luna nodded, knowing that it was the closest thing to an agreement she was ever going to get out of you. Despite your surliness, your friend seemed to brighten the minute she spotted Pansy. In a sea of blue and gold, the dark haired witch was the only one clad in green and silver. Your housemates kept exchanging wary glances at the Slytherin in their midst, but they were wise enough to keep their mouths shut. 

You watched quietly as Pansy and Luna exchanged pleasantries. While your friend was generally a bubbly person, she seemed extra giddy as she spoke. There was something about the way that she softened that convinced you to ease up on the scowls. It must have been contagious, because Pansy actually smiled and it wasn’t a derisive sneer or a smug smirk, but a genuine smile. You didn’t even know the witch was capable of it. 

Finally, she seemed to take stock of your presence. The dark haired girl jutted her chin out proudly, her aristocratic features schooled into forced neutrality. It occurred to you that Pansy probably received a similar warning to attempt decency. 

“Y/N,” she said. 

“Pansy,” you replied. 

The two of you eyed each other. Sizing up your opponent. The eagle versus the snake, claws against teeth. The staredown was purely psychological warfare. 

You squinted. Hurt her and I’ll maim you. 

The silent warning didn’t seem to offend Pansy. Instead, she gave a subtle nod of her chin and made way for you and Luna to sit. You settled in, trying not to peer down at the drop. Heights had never really been your thing. 

Pansy observed you curiously as Luna patted your arm. “Y/N’s not a big fan of heights.” 

“Oh?” Parkinson asked. 

“I generally prefer solid ground. It reduces the chances of me falling and breaking my neck.” The corner of Pansy’s mouth quirked. “What about you, Parkinson? Are you keen on flying?” 

“A bit.” 

Luna brightened. “She’s being modest. Pansy here is a very talented flyer. She’s got an Abraxan named Circe.”

“The most powerful witch to ever live,” you noted. “She used to turn men into swine.” 

“A lost art, really.” 

You smirked. “The classic femme fatale. A personification of the dangers of femininity. They always paint powerful women in a terrible light, don’t they?” 

“Perhaps it makes the men feel better about their own inadequacies.” 

“We’re always making men feel better about their inadequacies,” you answered thoughtfully. “Convenient that the myths fail to mention that Circe was one of the first pharmakis. Modern magic would not be what it is without her extensive knowledge of herbs and plants and yet she’s rarely credited in any potions books we read.”

Pansy nodded, eyeing you in amusement. “I can see why Nott has taken a liking to you.” 

You turned to Luna who immediately shook her head. Pansy laughed. “Don’t worry, Lovegood didn’t tell me a thing. She didn’t have to. Theodore never stops talking about you, you know.” 

There was no hiding the flush that crept up to your cheeks. “We’re both vying for the top spot in Slughorn’s class. I assume he has a lot to say about his competition.” 

“It’s more than that,” Pansy said. “I’ve known Theodore since birth and I’ve never seen him put this much effort into anything. He’s always been naturally talented at potions, given his mum’s background, but you challenge him. For the first time in a long time, he’s found someone who’s actually up to par. I, for one, enjoy watching you put him in his place.” 

You smiled. “I quite enjoy it too.” 

Luna looked at you, then at Pansy before a huge grin graced her lips. It was obvious that she was pleased at the sight of her best friend and her…potential more-than-friend getting along.

The game started not long after. Your comprehension of the rules were rudimentary at best, but Luna made sure to explain as best as she could. From what you gathered, there were four positions: seeker, beater, chaser, and keeper. The chasers attempted to score as many goals as they could by throwing the quaffle through the posts, which the keepers guarded. The beaters used the bludgers to disrupt the other players. The seeker, on the other hand, needed to catch the golden snitch. All while floating on a broom hundreds of feet in the air. 

This match, Pansy explained, had been anticipated to be the most brutal of the season. The enmity between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins translated very clearly on the field. While there had always been a divide of support between the other houses, you could tell that the majority of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff stands were cheering for the Gryffindors. 

You wondered how that made the Slytherins feel. Three houses against one. After the war, Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic droned on and on about the importance of unity and reconciliation. Professor Slughorn even delivered a speech during your first potions class, but the disparity between words and actions were painfully obvious. 

The rest of the school still mistrusted the Slytherins. If any of them cared, you wouldn’t have been able to tell. Especially not as they played. The quidditch team was deadly. You watched as green and silver robes whizzed past, familiar names sprawled on the jerseys. Malfoy, Zabini, Riddle, Berkshire, Warrington, Rosier, and Nott. 

Theo winked as he flew past your portion of the stands. You rolled your eyes, but held your breath as he careened towards one of the goal posts. Ron Weasley stood guard, squinting suspiciously at Theo. The flash of the quaffle was too fast for your eyes to follow, but it sliced the air all the same, slipping through an opening above Ron’s shoulder. The redhead cursed as Theo gave him a mocking bow. 

Pansy was the lone witch in your section to cheer for the Slytherins. Luna joined her in solidarity when the crowd grew quiet. Suspicious glances were cast in your direction, which you rebuffed with a menacing glare. They all found something else to look at rather quickly. 

Displeasure rippled over the crowd as the Slytherins kept scoring. Theo was an unstoppable force. Warrington and Riddle flanked him at each side, throwing bludgers at anyone who attempted to thwart his efforts. The other two chasers, Berkshire and Zabini, circled around them in an aerial formation that confused the opposing team. The Gryffindors grew increasingly frustrated when Evangeline Rosier kept rebuffing their attempts to score. 

Both teams played well, but the Slytherins were ruthless, tactical, and efficient. They used the opposing team’s weaknesses against them. The Gryffindors tended to be over reactive and Theo used it to his advantage. He baited them into making rash plays, which left openings for him and the other chasers to exploit. 

By the end of the game, it was Berkshire who scored the winning goal. The discrepancy between the cheers and booing was insurmountable, but Pansy didn’t seem to care. She cheered for the team louder than anyone. As the win was formally announced, you heard murmurs coming from below you. 

“Stupid Death Eater bitch.” 

From the corner of your eye, you saw Pansy tense. Luna’s mouth hung agape as she wheeled around to identify the foul mouthed culprit. You were quicker. 

“What did you just say?” you asked in a deathly quiet voice.

The conversations around you stopped as you faced Romilda Vane. The smug faced witch crossed her arms, her scarlet and gold scarf billowing in the wind as she looked up at the three of you. 

“You heard me,” Romilda said in a haughty voice. “Her father was one of the Dark Lord’s staunchest supporters. As were the Malfoys and Notts. Not to mention Riddle. How he was allowed back at school is a mystery to me. They should all be in Azkaban.” 

Your ears began to ring. The crowd parted as you descended the bleachers, bringing you face to face with Romilda. “I wasn’t aware that you’d recently earned a place in the Wizengamot. For all your prattling, you’d think you were the Chief Warlock.” 

She cowered under your glare, but doubled down as she looked towards her friends. “I’m only saying what everyone else is thinking. As far as I’m concerned, the Slytherins should be punished for their crimes.” 

“I hardly think you’re speaking from any moral high ground, Romilda. Didn’t you try to dose Potter with Amortentia in sixth year?”

Romilda reddened as she sputtered nonsense. The students around you snickered, but all you could hear was the rush of blood in your ears. You clenched your fists so tightly that your nails dug painfully into your palms. If you hadn’t, you might’ve punched that stupid smirk right off of her face. 

But you knew that physical violence was not the answer. There were far more strategic ways to land a blow and you were an expert in this type of warfare. 

“I suppose Harry’s lucky that your potion making is about as incompetent as your critical thinking skills. Now move before I make you.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing getting tangled up with all those snakes. They’ll sink their teeth into your back the second you turn it.” 

“One of them is worth ten of you. At least the Slytherins fought to defend the castle instead of running off like a coward. They may have teeth, but at least they know how to use them. You’re all roar and no bite.” 

“You’re a bitch, Y/N.” 

You reared back, baring your teeth. “Oh you have no idea, Vane. But I’d be glad to demonstrate.” 

Romilda held her ground. For a split second, you weighed the consequences of harming a fellow student versus the satisfaction of pummeling Romilda to the ground. Luckily for the idiotic Gryffindor, Luna gently gripped you by the elbow. 

“It’s not worth it, Y/N.” 

You looked at your friend who wore an expression of concern. Beside her, Pansy didn’t say a word. She was utterly silent, almost resigned like she encountered this treatment on a daily basis. We all pay the price, Theo had said. 

Without another word, you nodded and bulldozed through Romilda as you exited the stands. It was only when the three of you reached the ground when you finally realized that you were shaking from anger. 

“Are you alright, Pans?” Luna asked, clasping Parkinson’s hand. 

Pansy shrugged. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, Luna. If I let the opinion of an airheaded twat affect my day, I’d never have a good one again.” 

“Are you sure—” Luna fretted. 

Pansy smiled gently and squeezed her hand in assurance. “Truly, I’m alright. The only thing upsetting me at the moment is that I’ve left my scarf up there running from those hags. Would you mind getting it for me, Lu?” 

Your friend still looked worried, but she nodded and made the trek back up. You and Pansy stood in silence, watching as the last of the crowd trickled out of the stands. 

“Vane had no right to say that,” you said. It came out harsher than you expected. 

“At least she had the gall to say it to my face,” Parkinson stated with a shrug. “I don’t know if that makes her brave or stupid.” 

“Gryffindors often have trouble making the distinction.” 

The dark haired witch laughed. “You didn’t have to do that, you know. As moronic as she is, Vane is right. She was only voicing the opinion of the masses."

“But you fought in the final battle. I saw you rallying the others against the Death Eaters. Romilda wasn’t even there. She didn’t even fight.”

Pansy sighed. “A lot of good that did. I had to watch my friends duel against their own parents and yet this entire school still mistrusts us. I suppose I can’t blame them. The majority of the Dark Lord’s followers were produced by our house.”

“Not all Slytherins are bad. The world isn’t so black and white,” you said adamantly. “Most of us operate in the gray areas, whether we admit it or not. The only difference is that you lot don’t try to hide it.” 

“Yes, but a snake is a snake. Even when we shed our skin, they still see deception when they look at us.” 

“And you’re willing to just accept that?” 

Parkinson gave you a pointed look. What choice did she have? What choice did any of them have? 

After a beat of silence, you cleared your throat. “Are you sure you’re alright? Luna’s worried.” 

“I assure you, being villainized isn’t anything new to me. I suppose that’s why I named my horse after Circe," Pansy mused thoughtfully. "It’s better for them to believe that I’m some sort of evil sorceress than to realize that I am more shackled by my circumstances than I could ever be at Azkaban. My family name is a collar around my neck, waiting to choke me at any moment, but they’re so blinded by their own misconceptions that all they see are my teeth. I prefer it that way.”

“Oderint dum metuant.”

"Let them hate, as long as they fear." A faint smile bloomed on Pansy’s lips. "That’s awfully Slytherin of you to say. Are you sure you’re in the right house, Y/N?”

You chuckled. A beat of silence followed as understanding passed between you. Perhaps you had more in common with Pansy Parkinson than you thought. 

When Luna returned, the two of them tried to convince you to join them at the common room party, but you declined. You weren’t really in the mood to be around people. 

“You two go ahead. I’ll catch up later.” 

As the sun set over the school grounds, you found yourself at the Black Lake. Dusk tinged the horizon with pink and purple and the fluffy white clouds hung low enough to kiss the dark water. You settled at the end of the dock and dipped your toes into the lake, watching as the motion made ripples across the surface. Maybe it was unwise to linger here given that the lake was home to the merpeople and the giant squid, but they would be far in the depths and you were honestly too knackered to care. 

Sighing, you pulled out a silver flask from your robes. You had initially brought it for the after party, but it would’ve been a shame to let the firewhisky go to waste. 

“Illegal contraband?” A familiar voice teased just as the wood gave way beside you. Theo bumped his shoulder against yours as he sat. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, well maybe your idiotic tendencies are rubbing off on me.” 

“I’d like to rub more than just my tendencies on you.” 

You rolled your eyes and handed him the flask. “Just fucking drink, Theodore.” 

He grinned before taking a swig. You chuckled at the face he made from the burn of the Ogden’s. “That is straight up liquor," Theo remarked through his coughing fit. "You're out of control, diavolina. Should I be concerned?”

“We’re celebrating,” you said. “At least you should be. That was quite a win out there. I didn’t expect you to be so….efficient.” 

“Careful, Y/N. That was almost a compliment.” 

You shrugged. “To be fair, I haven’t been to a game in years. You could’ve been absolutely rubbish and I’d still think it was a feat that you managed to stay seated on that broom.” 

“Well, it is a pretty important component of quidditch. Did you at least attempt to enjoy yourself?” 

“It was a brutal game. There’s a lot more strategy and planning that goes into quidditch than I initially thought. It’s like chess, but you’re allowed to hit people. I had a blast.” 

Theo chuckled. “I should’ve known you’d get a kick out of all that violence.” 

Warmth spread through your body as you took another swig. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating your win at the party?” 

His fingers brushed yours as you handed the flask back to him. “I’m where I want to be.” 

This time, you weren’t sure if it was the firewhisky or Theo’s presence making you flush. The two of you kept drinking in silence as you peered up at the sky. Back home in London, you never would’ve been able to see the stars this clearly. They glittered in the night sky like tiny diamonds etched through the darkness. 

“I heard about what happened earlier,” Theo said after a moment. 

You weren’t surprised. Word traveled fast around this school. “Luna told you?” 

“No. Pansy did.” He shifted, turning over to look at you. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you did too. “You did a good thing, Y/N. You stood up for Pansy. I can’t thank you enough.” 

“I was only doing what anyone else would’ve done.” 

“No. You weren’t.” Theo set the flask down. “No one else would’ve come to her defense. Pansy, she’s the strongest one out of all of us. Draco, Mattheo, and I, we can always resort to punches when we’re insulted, but Pansy doesn’t have that option. She just has to sit there and take it. It means a lot that someone spoke up for her.”

“I did the bare minimum.”

“It still meant a lot.” 

“There’s no need to thank me for—”

Theo sighed in exasperation. “For Salazar’s sake, will you just take my gratitude without arguing?”

You bit back a smile. “Fine. I acknowledge your gratitude.” 

You downed the rest of the flask as Theo lit a cigarette. The flame from that curious Zippo flickered in the darkness as smoke filled the air.

“So,” Theo started, taking a deep inhale. “Are you ready for the slug club dinner next week? I’m not even invited to the bloody thing and yet I still know every detail thanks to McLaggen’s incessant prattling. What a twat.” 

“Cormac is kind of a twat, isn’t he?” you asked, giggling as the alcohol started taking its effect. “I heard that he kisses like a fork tongued lizard.” 

Theo’s eyes flashed. “You better not know that firsthand.” 

You wrinkled your nose. “I wouldn’t go near McLaggen’s mouth with a ten foot broom.” 

“Good. I can rest easy that you won’t be replacing me with a reptilian snogger.”

“You can rest easy either way. I’m not going to that dinner.” 

Theo paused, the cigarette hanging haphazardly from between his lips. “What do you mean you’re not going?” 

“It’s a pretty straightforward sentence, Nott. I will not be attending Professor Slughorn’s ridiculous dinner.” 

“You have to go,” he declared firmly. 

“I’m confused. Do you want me to snog the lizard or not?” 

Theo frowned. “Do not snog McLaggen unless you want me to turn him into an actual reptile.” He exhaled and smoke curled around his lips. “You can’t miss that dinner.”

“I have no interest in attending.” 

He stared at you, his gaze fixed with determination. “Is this about what Slughorn said the other day?” 

You picked at your fingers, avoiding his eyes. “It’s probably going to be boring, anyways. Just a pissing contest for us to compare our grades and achievements like we’re puppets on a string.” 

“You should still go.” 

“Why?” you asked, a bit irritated that Theo was pushing for this so hard. You would’ve thought that he of all people would understand your choice. “Why would I subject myself to be part of something that judges people based on prejudice rather than merit?”

Theo’s expression softened. “Because it’ll raise your chances of joining the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers. That’s your dream, isn’t it?”

You reeled back in surprise. “How do you know about that?” 

He rolled his eyes. “You only talk about it a thousand times a day.” Theo raised his brow in challenge. “Slughorn’s one of the most influential members. If you go to the dinner, it might solidify a formal invitation.” 

Theo was right. You didn’t want him to be, but he was right. Under any other circumstance, you would’ve sabotaged and plotted and schemed for a way in. This was an opportunity to distinguish yourself from your fellow classmates, so why were you hesitating?

You knew why. You were looking right at him.

“I’ll drag you there myself if I have to,” Theo declared. 

You sighed. There was no way he was going to let this go. “Fine, I’ll think about it.” 

Theo smiled triumphantly. You kicked at the water, sending a wave across the still lake. “You know, if Slughorn knew that you were a Marchesi, he’d probably fall all over himself to recruit you. Hell, anyone would. You’re practically guaranteed a place at the Society, too.”

Theo shrugged nonchalantly. “Where would the fun be in that?” 

“I’m serious, Nott. It could open up doors for you.”

He sighed. “That’s exactly why I’ve kept the knowledge to myself. I’m tired of everyone judging me based on my family, good or bad. I want to accomplish something that’s solely mine. Not Nott, not Marchesi. Just Theo.”

“That’s uncharacteristically noble of you.”

“I told you, I’m not just a pretty face. I’m also rich, witty, intelligent, athletic, etc. Honestly, the list goes on and on.”

You snorted. “Just don’t expect humble to be part of that little myriad, Theo.”

Theo paused. The moment of silence swelled between you like an errant wave. Then, a huge smile broke out on his face. 

“What?” you asked. 

“You called me Theo.”

“Well, that is your name. Has quidditch concussed you so severely that you’ve forgotten?

He responded with an eye roll. “I’m perfectly lucid, thank you very much. Well, besides the firewhisky. I’m a little bit sloshed from that, but not sloshed enough to not notice you call me by my actual name. Not Theodore, not Nott, not twat, not oh god—”

“I get it, Theo.”

His grin grew wider. “There it is again. Theo.”

“It’s just a name, nothing special.”

“It is when you’re the one saying it.” 

“Oh, shut up.”

The satisfied smirk on his face refused to budge even as the sky grew darker. The two of you sprawled out on the dock, staring up at the sky and enjoying the comfortable silence. Theo toyed with his lighter, rubbing his thumb over the spark wheel, which caused the flame to flicker on and off.

You stared at the lighter, vision blurring from the alcohol. “Why do you have that thing?”

“I told you, Mattheo’s a little thief.” 

“No, I mean I know the reason. But I just can’t figure out why.” 

Theo scrunched his brows in confusion. “Are you sure you’re not the one concussed?” 

“Would a concussed person be able to do this?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows and slightly flipped to the side. The action made your hair come loose. 

“What in Merlin’s name am I supposed to be looking at right now?” 

“I’m obviously doing a cartwheel,” you deadpanned. “Aren’t I?” 

Theo chuckled. “You are one drunk witch, Y/N.” 

“M’not drunk.” He raised a brow. “Fine, maybe I’m a tiny bit bevved, but you’re the one avoiding my question.”

“Sorry,” Theo said rather unapologetically. “I’m a bit distracted at the moment.” 

“By what?” 

“Your hair,” he murmured softly. Theo reached out and toyed with a loose strand, twisting a long lock between his fingers. He swallowed thickly, his voice lower and huskier than it was a minute ago. “You should wear it down more often.” 

“It’s a hassle.” 

He swept it over your shoulder, knuckles brushing your cheek. “It’s beautiful.” 

Your cheeks warmed. Whether from the alcohol or his touch, you couldn’t differentiate. “Stop deflecting, Nott.” 

Theo rolled his eyes. “Relentless witch. Can’t you see I’m trying to have a moment here?” 

You gave him a pointed look. Theo sighed before handing over his lighter. Up close, you could see that the silver was worn and dented. It looked much older than you initially thought. To your surprise, Theo silently waved his wand and the lighter transformed into a heart shaped locket. 

“When my nonna gave me the grimoire, it came with this. It was Alessandra’s old locket. She treasured it more than the grimoire itself.” 

“What’s so special about it?” 

“Open it.” 

Your fingers stilled. “Are you sure?”

“Don’t get shy now, diavolina. You wanted to know and now I’m telling you.” 

You hesitated for a moment before curiosity got the best of you. The locket popped open easily. Inside was a picture of a dark haired woman standing next to a man with watercolor eyes and thick brown curls. The couple looked at each other with love and adoration in their eyes. 

“That’s Alessandra, obviously. The man was Damiano, her closest friend, the mad scientist of the village, and the cleverest muggle she’d ever met. He helped author the grimoire.” 

“I never knew that Alessandra had help with her inventions.” 

Theo nodded. “As my family intended. They didn’t approve of her relationship with Damiano, but she didn’t care. They fell madly in love and eventually married.” 

“How is it possible that no one knew about him?”

“Damiano was born with a unique illness that was incurable even with magic. Alessandra poured years of her life into finding a cure, but in the end he succumbed to it. She passed away only a year after him. My nonna said that she died of a broken heart.” Theo took the chain and traced his fingers over the picture. “They left behind two young children who were eventually raised by Alessandra’s parents. Their son and daughter grew up not knowing who their father was. The Marchesis did everything in their power to keep the knowledge to themselves. They didn’t want anyone to know that their great bloodline was tainted by a muggle.” 

Theo bowed his head in shame. He avoided your gaze, choosing to look out at the Black Lake instead. “There it is. The secret that my family has guarded for centuries. The sad part is that some of them still hold those bigoted beliefs, so when people assume the worst of me, I can’t blame them. The Marchesis, the Notts, either way you look at it, there’s bad blood coursing through my veins.” 

“That’s not true, Theo,” you said softly. “You know I don’t think that of you, right?” 

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did. Everyone else does.” 

“Well, I don’t,” you said firmly. “You said it earlier. Family isn’t all that a person amounts to. When I look at you, I don’t see a Nott or a Marchesi. I just see Theo.” 

“I don’t deserve that,” he whispered. The saddest part was that you were sure he meant it. “My great great great grandmother fell in love with a muggle and how did my family repay her for it? They blotted him out of existence.” 

The starlight caressed his forlorn expression with its silver glow, painting a heartbreaking depiction of Theo that you had never seen before. It reminded you of that day in the potions lab when he was talking about his mother. There was such an openness and vulnerability in him then that was present now as well and you realized why he looked at you the way he did that day. 

Theo hadn’t been waiting for you to give him an out. He wanted—no, he needed a friend and you had been too scared to step up then, but you weren’t now. You could be that for him. You wanted to be that for him. A friend. 

Without second guessing yourself, you reached out in the space between you and grabbed hold of his hand. Theo stared at your intertwined fingers in surprise. 

“The love between Damiano and Alessandra lives on,” you said with a small smile. “In their children and their children’s children. In…you.” 

Those watercolor eyes, the very same ones that you had grown so familiar with shone with emotion. Unlike the day in the lab, Theo didn’t put up his mask of cockiness and arrogance and you realized with a start that you didn’t want him to. 

He smiled and squeezed your hand gently. “Yes, I suppose I inherited Damiano’s affinity for cruel, brilliant witches.”

"Affinity is putting it lightly," you said teasingly. "Admit it. You're obsessed with me, Nott."

You blinked as Theo hovered over you. The weight of his body pressed against yours ignited a flame of fiendfyre in your core. He dipped his head down, his curls tickling your nose. "No, not Nott. Not Theodore. Try that again, diavolina."

You wriggled underneath him, but Theo held your hips in place. He brushed his lips against yours and smirked when you tried to kiss him. His low rumble of laughter sent shivers down your spine. "Say it. Say my name again."

"If I say it, will you stop being a tease?"

Theo kissed your neck and laughed when you pouted in response. "Only one way to find out."

"I'll knee you in the crotch if you do that again, Theo."

He grinned. "There's a good girl," Theo said rather suggestively. You fought the urge to squirm at his words. He peppered kisses along your neck, your jaw, and your cheeks while you burst into a fit of drunken giggles. "For the record, I am obsessed with you, but I think you're a little bit obsessed with me too."

"You wish, Theo."

"You're going to be the death of me," he said huskily as he unbuttoned your cardigan. Theo's eyes were full of mischief as he dipped between your breasts, sucking on your flesh and leaving marks in his wake. "But I'm willing to die a happy man, Y/N."

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[mrsjobarnes]

May Thy Knife

Summary: When Paul challenges the emperor, Feyd is chosen to fight your brother. Your brother couldn't hurt the man you love, right?

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader

Word count: 1,113

TW:  Violence, Murder, pregnancy and family drama  (let me know if i missed any) 

AN: I got this idea while I was doing my dishes and just had to write it down Also a huge Thank you to @angel-0f-verdun for helping!

Likes & comments are welcome! 

Please do not steal my work! 

You hear a familiar voice and start to walk to the front of the crowd with your husband hot on your trail. Once you come to a stop he puts his hand protectively around your belly. The hooded figure starts to talk when you interrupt him “Paul”. You thought he had died along with your father and stepmother. “Paul,” you say again trying to walk forward when Feyd stops you. 

Paul retracts his hand.“I see you have chosen a side” says Paul glaring at Fey and continuing his conversation with the emperor. Though you couldn’t stay still, eyes continually glancing around the room, you lay eyes on Jessica and the only other person bold enough to make eye contact. As Paul challenges the emperor for his daughter's hand marriage and the rule of the galaxy, you get a good look at him. This is not the same Paul you grew up with, no, that Paul had died. The emperor agrees to his challenge and chooses Feyd as his fighter. 

— 

“Paul if you love me you won’t kill my husband. Please be better than his uncle and the emperor, I’m begging you. As your sister, I beg you please.” You say as you step forward tears streaming down your face. You do your best to maintain your composure as Paul walks to you and Feyd. “May thy knife chip and shatter '' Paul says backing up to assume a fighting stance. 

You feel your heart sink as Feyd turns to you and kisses your lips so sweetly and tenderly almost begging for your forgiveness. “I love you” he whispers. You grab him and beg him not to. He shrugs off your advances as he steps forward. “May thy knife chip and shatter” he says while assuming a fighting stance.

“Will someone please stop this madness!” you scream, begging anyone to stop them. You start to walk towards the fight when Gurney stops you. “Please, that is my husband” you  beg him. He looks at you with sorrow, looking around the room you try to find something to stop this. You scream as Paul almost lands a blow, when Feyd retaliates faster knocking Paul on the ground. He points out the other women besides Lady Jessica who actively wince whenever Paul starts losing ground in the fight, Paul's pet. As they start fighting you start walking towards her, hiking up your skirt you pull out one of Feyds knives and grab her by the side. Whispering an apology you place the blade in a weak spot in her armor on her side. You know that she could easily get away from you but she doesn't try, maybe to grief stricken by Paul throwing her to the side for his own power and ambitions or maybe she thinks you’re faster then her. It doesn't matter as long as this catches Paul's attention. 

“Paul if you don’t stop I will kill her” you scream out still pointing the knife. Her eyes pleaded with Paul to stop fighting. “I love him, Paul, he is the father of my child and my husband. I thought better of you then to become a killer” you say looking directly into his eyes as Feyd stands behind him at the ready. Not wanting to hurt Paul unless he hurts you or his child. He could care less about himself, for the first time in his life he is content. He should have known that the universe would come and take it from him, he has done too much evil to ever be happy. Just as soon as you caught Paul's attention you lost it. He was back to dueling with Feyd, as the fight continued both men were covered in blood, both of their own and of each other. They both seemed to be growing tired but that's when Feyd got the upper hand and stabbed Paul in a non-emergent spot, but just as soon as he had done that Paul had stabbed him in the abdomen, a way harsher blow. As they fell to the floor the only thing that could be heard was your screams of horror. Dropping the knife you held, you ran over to the pair, Paul was pulling the knife out of his shoulder standing up and walking toward the emperor. Pulling Feyd to your lap you assessed his injury. 

“It's okay my love, let me go,” he said, wiping the tears off your face. “I've lived a good life with you, I learned what it was like to be loved and it is marvelous,” he says, coughing up more blood. At this point, you are sobbing cradling him back and forth. You don't even register the cheers of victory all around the room. Suddenly, a hand is placed on your shoulder, looking up to scream at whoever was touching you, you see that it is the woman you threatened to stab. She pulls you away from Feyd as men swarm him, doing god knows what. All you can think about is how the man you love is dead. The only thing that brings you out of that grief is the consistent kicking in your belly. The woman introduced herself as Chani as you walked through the halls of the sand dune structure. She shows you to a room and begins to clean you up. 

“You have to stop crying,” she says in a gentle voice. “You’re going to lose all of your water,” she says, grabbing her canteen and pouring you some water. As you greedily drink it you come to the harsh reality that you are now alone. 

“I don’t know how I'm going to do this alone”. You say while rubbing your belly, which was greeted by a strong kick.  

“What Paul did was awful, he has been corrupted by power. No thanks to your mother feeding him propaganda” Chani says. Looking at her you explain that Paul is your half-sibling through his father and that Lady Jessica killed your mother. “Ahh so being a traitor comes from her side,” she says pacing the room. “I can’t believe I ever loved him,” she says, throwing her glove at the door. 

“He hasn’t always been like that” you say, glancing at her. “His mother brings out the best and the worst in him, but our father raised him better than to be a murderous monster” you say holding back more tears. “My husband is dead, the love of my life is dead. Now I am to have his child by myself, I am all alone.” you say playing with your fingers. 

“You’re not alone” Chani says, waking to sit on the bed next to you.

[darkbluekies]

How would the yans react if their darling is already dating someone else

Warnings: killing, kidnapping

Silas: 

He hates to see you laugh and smile with someone who isn’t him. He knows he shouldn’t approach you. You’re so … pure, so normal … and he’s a beast lurking in the darkness. He knows that the second he approaches you, you’ll be sucked into his world and there won’t be a way out. But he cannot bare himself to watch you cling onto someone that isn’t him. Silas sighs. He could actually keep you safe if he really tried. If he doesn’t take you to be his, he will regret it for all eternity. He turns to his second in command. 

“See that person over there? The one leaning onto the one in gray? I want them. And I want the one in gray gone. Why? Personal reasons. Make sure that cute, little thing is in my basement by the end of the night, got it? Thank you.”

Dr Kry: 

His heart breaks when someone else tries to visit you at the hospital. It’s always the same person. He doesn’t dare to ask you about who it is, scared to hear the truth. Of course, he knows that it’s your significant other, but he doesn’t want to have it confirmed. A small part of him still hopes that it’s just a family member. Nonetheless, he has to get rid of them before you start to ask about them. Dr Kry pulls the threat into a supply closed, pressing a drenched cloth against the persons face. 

“Don’t take it personal, this is just for selfish reasons. It actually doesn’t have anything to do with you, just who you’re with. Y/N isn’t yours anymore and I’ve given you more than second chances to make you realize that … but here we are. Just go to sleep, breathe in. It’ll all be over soon.”

King Edmund:

He isn’t worried. He’s the king! Who can’t decline a king a favor? He doesn’t have to be worried about whoever has stolen your heart. Worst case scenario, he’ll rip you open and give you a new heart that only belongs to him. It can’t be so difficult, there are hundreds — if not thousands — of women who want him. If only you got to have one of their hearts …

“My good sir, I want to make a deal with you. You stay away from Y/N and I send you a portion of money every month to make sure you and your family can live comfortably. I know how hard you have it on your farm. All you need to do is to give me Y/N. Not hard, right? You’re winning. I’m taking her off your hands. You could never provide for her. If you refuse? How funny that you asked that … if you refuse, your entire bloodline will die.”

Jerry: 

Jerry hates being jealous, hates that someone can make her that insane. She hates the power you have over her, especially when you’re not doing anything. The person who leans on your shoulder makes her sick. She can’t watch any longer. She has to have you. Now. She storms over with her men behind her. They grab your partner, pulling them away and Jerry traps you in a corner. You trembling in front of her sends tingles down her body. She reaches out her hand, brushing your hair out of your face. 

“Don’t tremble, my love. You’re mine now. You’re with the wrong person. You might not understand it now, but I can assure you that you’re meant to be with me — be my little accessory. Don’t cry, I’m not going to hurt you for this. You had no idea. My pretty, little pet, you have no idea what kind of trouble you're pretty face has got you in …”

Hedwig:

She has been the best friend you could ever have. She has been by your side from the day you transferred … why didn’t you choose her to be your girlfriend? Hasn’t she been everything to you? Hedwig can feel a gaping hole in her heart when she sees you eating with someone else at lunch. She has to stay home. She can’t watch you be with someone else. All she does is cry in her bed. She doesn’t eat, doesn’t move, doesn’t bathe. A living zombie is what she’s become. One day, you come over to check up on her and she knows she has to take the chance.

“Y/N, you can’t do this to me! You have to break up with that … that bitch! P-Please! You have to be mine! I have to have you! I’m so lost without you! I can’t function without you! If … if you’re not going to leave them … I have to keep you here with me. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

[flippinpancakes64]

Hi! So, this is my first ask ever (kinda nervous ngl), but could you please write for the cullens with a succubus reader who is their mate? Maybe they're more like a Jennifer's body succubus? Thank you! (I'm obsessed with your writing btw)

The Cullens with a Succubus! Mate

Omg I remember the first time I did an ask I was like 12 and I was so worried I almost threw up. And then I got diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder so

Anyway it’s been like four or five years since I’ve seen Jennifer’s body but I think I remember enough to do what you wanted.

For anyone who needs a rundown, a succubus is a female demon who visits men while they sleep to engage in sexual activity. Either during or after this, they kill the men by taking their energy or by eating them. The male form is an incubus, but mostly the same premise.

And thank you so much for the kind words! Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

Uhm he’s a little scared

He knows that you won’t hurt him

You have no reason to there’s nothing to gain from killing a vampire, it’s not like you can eat him and he doesn’t have any energy to offput

Doesn’t mean he isn’t a little freaked out

But after he gets over the initial terror he is intrigued

He’s never met a demon before

He’s a scholarly fellow as well, he wants to know everything about you

He is gonna have to ask that you find another way of feeding

He sees your hunting ritual as cheating so yall will need to figure that out

Alice:

Yes sign her up

She loves you

She is so entranced

She thinks you are so beautiful, and she thinks your feeding us is symbolic

And of course she’s not scared of you

She’s not gonna go with you when you feed

But she’s also not gonna ask you to change

She knows that that’s what you need to do, and at the end of the day you come back to her and those guys end up dead so

Jasper:

He’s met a succubus before

He used to think Maria was a succubus tbh

He is a little uneasy

But he gets over himself

Again he thinks it’s so cool that you’re so different

Obv he won’t join you for your hunting

That’s just dangerous for him since he’s trying to not drink human blood

And he doesn’t try to change you at all

Yk that twitter post that’s like “my bitch can do what she wants cause im scared of her”

That’s him

Rosalie:

Yes

100 times yes

She is a man hater (except for Emmett and Carlisle and sometimes Jasper and maybe Edward)

She’s a big fan of your work

And yes she wants to join you

She’s abstained long enough to not really feel the urge to drink from the men you kill

And she doesn’t care about the sexual aspect

She’s the one you come home to so ❤️

She might even have a couple of suggestions for you

“That dude there bumped into me on the street and didn’t apologize let’s go for him next

Emmett:

Yes one million times

We already know he has a thing for powerful women

This is right up his alley

And he isn’t concerned about you killing men, he’s already dead

And if you would have killed him while he was alive he would have died a very happy man

He might go with you sometimes just to laugh at the guy

And he doesn’t care about the sexual aspect either

Again, more of the “you come home with me so it doesn’t matter”

Esme:

She’s very curious

She’s never met a demon, nor did she ever think she would

She isn’t judgmental at first when you tell her about how you eat men

But then she learns about what you do to them beforehand

And yeah she views it as cheating

She’ll ask if you have to do that first, or if you can just eat them

If you can’t change then she will not date you sorry

But she will be your friend

Carlisle:

He has definitely met a succubus before

So he knows what he’s getting into

He views it as more of a necessity

Like he knows how you won’t/can’t change and he wouldn’t ask that of you

He’s very accepting

He won’t go with you tho

What you do in your free time is up to you

Leave him out of the ritual killing please

Vampire! Bella:

She’s a little weirded out

I mean she just learned about vampires and werewolves not too long ago and now there’s other stuff?

She’s over learning

But she thinks it’s super cool

She thinks it’s a bit weird that you have to have sex with them first

So you’re gonna have to explain that it’s not something you can control, it just literally doesn’t work if you don’t

So she understands

I think she’d go with you once or twice just to see what it’s about

But it won’t be a habit of hers

Overall she thinks you’re pretty cool