#yet another man I am unwell for

[pileojunk]

I am completely normal for this man

[brainjuicey]

for someone that finds it so difficult to connect with peers, its a cruel circumstance to be deprived of any productive familial relationship

[inkydiamonds]

I HAVE REALIZED SOMETHING.

So. For people who are not Ethoslab watchers, in his most recent episode he showed off these beautiful statues Joel supposedly made of Etho in front of his house.

I figured Joel built them, and it seems Etho did too, because he sent Joel a message via mail about them.

This note... honestly surprised me a bit? I didn't think much of it at first, but the tone of it felt out of place. Obviously these two have this ongoing bit of being obsessed with each other, and they've done nothing recently but yes-and to the sun about it. This note seems to almost shut this bit down, saying "this bit hasn't gone too far yet, because I'm showing this on camera, but it's getting there." Which is a possible explanation for this note! But considering all they've done recently it feels very sudden.

And then. Joel claimed to not have built the statues. "Oh," I thought. "Joel is claiming not to have built the statues because he doesn't want to seem obsessed." Makes sense. Or maybe he *didn't* build the statues and someone is pranking them. That also makes sense.

But it was only when watching Joel talk about it on Impulse's stream, when I heard Joel say "honestly, I think Etho might have done it," that it clicked.

Oh.

This motherfucker.

He 100% did. That's why the message is so weird. Ethoslab built statues of himself outside Joel's base, messaged him via mail saying "that's kinda weird bro" and then DIDN'T EVER REVEAL THAT HE BUILT THEM. Oh my god THIS MAN...

From Etho's audience's perspective it just looks like Joel was continuing being obsessed with Etho, as usual, just another example in a long list. But *Joel* knows he didn't do that and *Etho* knows Joel will figure out who did. This mischievous motherfucker. Oh my godddd I hate them. Listening to him read back the note with that little smile in his voice. I am unwell. Why are they LIKE this

[pomefioredove]

Hiya! Do you think you could write something romantic and fluffy with Vil? I love him!

hi anon of course! I am so unwell about this man

summary: being friends with vil schoenheit has its perks type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, FLUFFY, mentions of food, friends to lovers huhuhu, maybe a tiny bit suggestive but also not really? lap-sitting and kissing

Someone should write a guide on how to be friends with Vil Schoenheit.

It did not come as naturally to you as you would have hoped. There were times when he felt like a star in your presence, not the actor kind, but the heavenly body.

Bright, and burning, and millions of miles away. Even as he sat directly across from you.

"You're not eating," he remarks. The comment is not degrading, though it is tinged with curiosity. "Is it bad?"

You haven't even sampled the meal yet- something fancy and expensive that you likely couldn't pronounce. He'd ordered it for you.

"It's okay," you lie.

He either buys your excuse, or ignores it. Either way, he reaches across the gossamer table cloth and switches your plates without asking.

Vil Schoenheit Friendship Survival Manual, rule number one: always assume his judgment is correct, until proven otherwise.

You look down at the plate- some kind of vegetable dish. He urges you on with a nod, lilac eyes fixed firmly on your pleasantly surprised reaction when you take a bite.

Rule number two: his judgment is always correct.

"Better?" he asks, not bothering to finish your food. He'll likely get something else later. "You really shouldn't skip meals. If you were feeling unwell, you should have said so. I would've ordered something lighter for you."

"Sorry. Didn't think of it," you say, taking another bite of his meal, if only to appease him.

You're hesitant to mention that the heavy feeling in your chest wasn't from illness, and so you say nothing more.

"No need to apologize. Here,"

Vil delicately reaches across the table and dabs at the corner of your mouth with his napkin. You hate how light-headed such a simple action makes you feel.

"Better. And don't worry about smudging anything, I have a few new products I'd like to try out on you later,"

Rule number three: always accept his gifts.

"Thanks," you murmur.

You were starting to feel as if you really were ill, the way your entire body warmed in his presence. Vil brought out a feverish sort of stupidity in you that made outings like this a minefield to navigate.

How painfully cliché, you thought. Hopelessly in love with someone far out of your league, with infinite options, none of which you could even hope to catch up to...

It made these evenings together pure torture.

You felt guilty for wishing he wasn't such an amazing friend. Must he insist on showering you in gifts and holding your hand every time you cross the street?

But being in his bedroom is another, dirtier realm of guilt. Vil saw you as a friend. Platonic. Someone he confided in, who he took under his wing. You were allowed to see parts of him no one else had, and yet, you can hardly pay attention to what he's saying because you can't stop thinking about the way his lips look when he speaks.

"Did you understand any of that?" he asks, bending down to your level as you sit on his bed. On his bed. And you had the mind to be thinking about doing romantic things...

Rule number four: speak when spoken to.

"No, sorry, I've just had a lot on my mind lately,"

Vil clicks his tongue and holds a hand to your forehead, feeling for temperature. "And you're sure you're not ill?"

"I'm fine! Just distracted,"

He chuckles, walking across the room to peruse his vanity. "Hm... and what sort of thoughts have got you scatterbrained today?"

You can feel your skin burning again. He could tell, couldn't he? All these weeks of coming undone every time he so much as looks your way couldn't have gone over his head... could they?

Or perhaps he was just used to people staring at him, stumbling over their words every time he spoke. Perhaps you were just another foolish fan who'd gotten to know him before falling in love.

You couldn't help but wish that there was someone or something that would just tell you what to do.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

Vil sits beside you, a small, wooden box in hand.

"I'm supposed to promote these next weekend, but I'm not sure about them, yet," he says, opening the lid to reveal a plethora of lipsticks that likely cost more than your existence. "I'll need your opinion, of course."

"Right," you murmur.

"And I'd like to try them on you, as well,"

"Of course,"

"And you're alright with that?"

You nod. Ever the gentleman, always asking for permission. He's been quite generous with his products lately, giving them away to you like candy. You're almost certain he has a full list of your allergens somewhere.

Vil returns to the vanity, delicately prepping, and then applying the first shade. It's a marvelous, metallic pink, with dark red undertones that make it a regal color. It suits him, and you say as much.

"Oh, you think so? I suppose it does compliment my eyes, although I'd definitely need to pair it with something darker, else it become too overpowering..."

He clicks his tongue, and then turns to look over his shoulder at you.

"Your turn. Come sit,"

There isn't another chair at the vanity, and you take that as your cue to awkwardly stand in front of him until he tells you what to do. He chuckles, amused by some thought of his that he doesn't share aloud.

"What are you standing there for? Sit,"

You awkwardly look around the space, eyes searching for a mysteriously hidden stool, something that should have been obvious...

He smiles. "Oh, don't be shy. We've known each other long enough by now, haven't we?"

You can't think of the right thing to ask, although your thoughts are quickly cut off by the sight of him gently patting his lap.

Sevens. If there were any time to wake up, this was it.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

He's not joking, of course. Vil hardly jokes. And so, you awkwardly straddle his lap, facing towards him, and allow him to get a good look at your visage.

He holds your chin firmly, studying your features as if he hasn't already seen them a thousand times before.

"Stay still,"

He's going to give you a heart attack, and there's a little quirk in his smile that tells you he knows it, too.

You wonder what your tag at the morgue will say. Death by Vil Schoenheit?

He starts with your skin, commenting on how soft it's gotten since he met you, then your eyes...

...Once he's satisfied, as he always is with his work, he turns your head so you can admire the makeup look in the mirror behind you.

"Stunning," he comments. "But you're missing something."

You look back, eyes wide. Surely, he hadn't forgotten something...? That's simply not in his nature.

He smiles at your confusion. "Remember? You promised to test these for me?"

Right. The lipstick. You nod. "Yes, but, I thought you'd already..."

"Oh, I do like the color. I'm just worried about this brand," Vil says. He looks away for a moment, almost as if to summon his courage... what a strange expression on him.

"What's wrong with the brand?"

He turns back with a small smirk. "They have a nasty reputation for smudging easily. I wouldn't want to make a fool of myself next weekend, hm?"

His cups your chin again, bringing you closer.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him!

He tilts his head to the side. "You don't mind, do you?"

You couldn't have shaken your head any faster, even with his grip on your chin.

"Good. Now, stay still. I think this will be a good color on you, anyway,"

He pulls you in with ease, letting his lips rest on yours for a second or two, before pulling back. Short but sweet, enough to make you feel like your entire body has gone numb.

He inspects your face, humming to himself...

"Good so far," he says, bringing you closer again. "But that was too safe. I won't hold back next time. Are you ready?"

You nod. Barely anything had happened, and you're already breathless. "Ready,"

Another smile crosses his perfect face, though he doesn't give you any time to admire it before he's kissing you again, one hand still cupping your face, the other holding the back of your neck and pressing you closer.

Definitely not a very platonic kiss.

It takes him longer to pull away this time, though when he does, it gives you a perfect view of his still-pristine makeup.

"Hmm... still nothing. I'm quite impressed with this line," he says, reaching behind you and returning with the wooden box. "How do you feel?"

Dizzy. Light-headed. Warm.

"Good," you say.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

Or do.

"Not too much, I hope?"

A delightful realization was beginning to come over you, one that made all you had thought about him null and void:

No one else could possibly give you a guide on Vil Schoenheit, because he writes the rules himself.

"No. That was perfect,"

"Excellent," he smiles, and flips the box open again. "Because we still have six more colors to test."

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule Spinoff: Elysian

Pairing: Doctor/Mafia!Kim Seokjin x Intern!Reader 

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: Ahhhhh sorry for the late update (Daniella was swamped) but thank you for anticipating this story! I hope you like this and please reblog if you do! Also also also. Have u seen how handsome Seokjin in in every content he releases…I am unwell

Masterlist, Part VI of __

Jung Hoseok was looking at him with visible disgust in his face. The fucker did not even attempt to hide it as he watched his hyung drank another shot of alcohol.

See, he could have drunk alone but this particular mafia prince decided to disrupt their fairly peaceful dinner when he sauntered in with an expensive bottle of whiskey that could feed a community from the price alone. Their conversation was abruptly cutoff when he placed the bottle on the dining table with a thud before proceeding to pour the content in a glass, and then drinking straight from the bottle like the lunatic and eccentric man he was proving to be.

Suffice to say, he was starting to get concerned at his hyung’s actions. He was a man of manners, priding himself to always be in proper decorum and holding himself at such a high esteem. The way he had been for the past few days were anything but the man he claimed to be. It wasn’t only Hoseok who found this peculiar. Park Jimin was nibbling his lower lips in worry, a habit he had from his childhood and was not able to shake off until now.

The brothers, sans Yoongi who was declared missing and presumed dead, all watched as their oldest hyung ignored them and instead, focused on his drinking while actively glaring at his phone as though the silence was offending him.

“This is familiar,” Taehyung commented with his deadpanned voice and continued eating his steak like nothing was amiss, uncaring of whatever was happening outside his dinner he specifically requested from the chef because Seokjin was not in the mood to prepare their usual dinner. “This was you more than a year ago.”

Jungkook looked at knife Taehyung was using as a pointer with a pout. “I didn’t reach that level of patheticness, thank you very much!”

“He’s right, Taehyung-ah,” Namjoon butted in, his hand patted Jungkook’s back.

“Thank you, hyung-“

“He was worst.”

Kim Namjoon enjoyed chaos, it was apparent. He thrived in it, but his cool demeanor and his strictness made it seemed the opposite. The brothers knew better. He wasn’t the straight A student people perceived him to be. Nope, he was much worse with twisted sense of justice and humor.

It can be seen by the way he calmly sipped his wine, the corners of his mouth curling into a subtle smirk as Jungkook exploded and Taehyung dodged the chicken thrown his way. Hoseok, ever the pacifist, didn’t know where to focus his attention to: the two youngest bickering on his one side, or the oldest who had just opened yet another bottle of whisky and was drinking straight from the source as though he had a spare liver and was testing the limits of his current one.

On the other hand, Jimin was on the corner with his phone plastered on his ear. “Hello, bear? Where are you? Come pick me up, I’m scared-” He paused as he listened to the response on the other end. “Hello? Bear?”

“Fine! I’ll just join my favorite hyung!” Jungkook pointedly said as he neared Jin who quietly passed him a glass of whisky. “You’re my only brother now.”

Seokjin suddenly lunged at his phone the moment it dinged with an alert, only to suddenly curse at it much to the surprise of the brothers. The force from which he slammed his phone on the table caused the expensive dinnerware to fear for their lives. Jimin timidly picked up the phone he threw across the table and read the message aloud.

“Dear Doctor Kim Seokjin, I hope this email finds you well. We wanted to extend our heartfelt congratulations to you on your well-deserved nomination- what is this? Are you mad because your research is nominated for a nobel prize?”  Jimin turned to his hyung with a frown on his face. He swore his brothers were becoming weirder and weirder as the days passed by. He was the only sane one here, truly.

Of course, it was perfectly sane to threaten any man who came too close to his bear, Jimin reasoned to himself. Or that he purposefully got injured in assignments whenever he felt like her attention was straining away from him.

Seokjin nodded, grumpily resting his chin on his fist. His thick dark brows were pinched together as he cursed at the message. “Stupid awards.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened in realization, “Ah, I get it now. You don’t want award, you want noona.”

This again, Hoseok thought. There was no way his hyung was acting this way because of a woman. He knew his hyung. He was disgusted by women and didn’t find them particularly interesting. In fact, he acted like they didn’t exist and Hoseok thought it was because of his mother. He waited for the denial that he was certain would come…until it didn’t.

Seokjin was silent. The man just literally sat there and drank his alcohol as though he had no plans to deny Jungkook’s ridiculous claim, much to Hoseok’s surprise.

“If you want her so bad, why don’t you apologize already?!” Jungkook shouted, shaking Jin’s shoulder. Ever the competitive one, he caught up to the volume of drink Seokjin intake and now it showed through his loud voice and sluggish movements.

“I already did, you idiot!”

“So she didn’t forgive you! Deserved!”

“As a matter of fact, she did!” Seokjin screamed back at the youngest, the vein in his neck protruding and his ears reddening.

“Then what is the problem, hyung?” Namjoon prompted, even he couldn’t make sense of why he was acting the way he did.

“She forgave me!”

“And that’s…the problem?” Hoseok asked with a tilt in his head.

“Yes!”

“Because?” Jimin prompted, sensing that Seokjin was struggling to articulate his feelings.

“I don’t just want her forgiveness-“

“And they said I was the different want who couldn’t differentiate one emotion from the other,” Taehyung said in a deadpanned manner.

“I realized I don’t want forgiveness. I want-“

“-Her?” Jungkook finished.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Seokjin immediately snapped; his voice was defensive but there was a telltale pause, a moment of hesitation that betrayed his true feelings. He continued, his voice rising with each word, as though he was trying to convince himself as much as the others. “I don’t want her forgiveness. I don’t want her to text me again. I don’t crave her attention. I don’t imagine us running towards each other in a field of flowers somewhere in Amsterdam. And I certainly don’t want her to be the mother of my children!” His voice broke with emotion, and with that final outburst, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving the others in stunned silence until the resounding slamming of several doors broke them out of their stupor.

---

You were deeply focused on your phone that you didn’t notice a certain someone standing in your way. You admitted that it was a bad habit of yours to be so utterly unaware of your surroundings nor the danger that it contained when you were thinking of something. It was later in the future when you discovered just how unsafe it was.

You certainly couldn’t have avoided bumping into him, but he could have– and yet, he actively chose not to. The collision could have been avoidable given the sparse amount of space around. It was five in the morning and the hospital lobby was not yet busy. Your pace was not even hurried and he was literally standing there and watching you with his dark eyes enter the hospital lobby. It wasn’t until you collided with his surprisingly broad chest did you notice him. You would’ve stumbled, maybe even fallen, if his hands hadn’t gripped your shoulders, steadying you.

“I’m so sor—” you began, but your words trailed off as your eyes landed on him. You had been expecting a stranger, but instead, you found yourself looking up at Kim Seokjin, someone you had seen not long ago (more than eight hours to be exact).

You blinked up at him, slightly dazed, as he looked down at you with something warm and unexplainable in his eyes. There was a subtle change in him, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was. But it didn’t matter. He wasn’t your concern anymore.

Not your monkey, and definitely no longer your circus.

You pulled away from him immediately. However, you noted that there was a hesitation in his touch before he let you go. It was brief and yet, you were sure it was there.

"Sorry about that," he said, his voice smooth and calm. The corners of his mouth curled up in a faint smile, making his eyes twinkle with a touch of amusement.

“No, I should have been paying attention. My apologies, Doctor Kim,” you replied formally, drawing an invisible line between the two of you. Maybe if you did that, you could go back to the way things were before everything got so complicated. Right. It was just correct that you started acting professionally when it came to the Chief. He was, after all, your boss and you had embarrassed yourself enough. If you wanted that stellar recommendation, then you’d have to get your act straight.

You smiled at him and that was when he lost his. You bowed and proceeded to walk away from him, your attention back to your phone as though his presence could no longer affect you. There was something telling him that maybe it was true.

How could you just…brush him off like that?

How could you just go on while he was beating himself for pushing you away?

And how could you expect him to just accept what he found to be unacceptable?! He wasn’t Kim Seokjin, a trained Mafia prince, renowned doctor, billionaire, and the worldwide handsome for nothing.

“Ah!” he groaned dramatically clutching his chest where you had bumped into him, his voice echoing through the quiet hospital lobby. He made sure it was loud enough to grab the attention of everyone around him, including the staff. They immediately ran over to check on him, their eyes wide with concern.

You paused, frozen mid-step, feeling the eyes of the entire room shift toward Seokjin. You could sense it—theatrics. This was exactly the kind of scene you had wanted to avoid, but of course, Seokjin was never one to let things go quietly.

"Doctor Kim! Are you alright?" one nurse asked in a panic, while another was already dialing someone—probably a medic. Someone even was screaming emergency as more people gathered around him.

You sighed deeply, closing your eyes for a moment to summon whatever patience you had left. He left you no choice. Had you leave, you would look like a bitch. Turning on your heel, you walked back to where Seokjin stood, still clutching his chest as if he were on the verge of collapse. His eyes met yours, sparkling mischievously despite the serious expression he tried to maintain.

“Really, Seokjin?” you muttered under your breath.

---

“Doctor Y/N, your negligence caused serious physical injury not only to anyone, but to our very own and beloved Doctor Kim!”

You flinched at the HR Department head before sneakily shooting Seokjin a hard glare. Seriously, he sent you to HR just because you bumped into him?! How petty could he be?

The answer to that was too petty.

Even petty couldn’t even begin to describe this!

Seated across from you, with an exaggerated pout, Seokjin held a warm compress to his chest as though nursing a life-threatening injury. Next to him sat the HR Department head, looking utterly serious.

"How are you feeling, Doctor Kim?" the HR head asked him, to which Seokjin gave a pathetic little whimper.

"I'm recovering," he replied, dramatically wincing as if your minor collision had left him grievously wounded.

You clenched your fists, fighting the urge to scream. This man is unbelievable! You weren’t just in HR because of a bump. You were in HR because Kim Seokjin wasn’t ready to let you go. Or was it his ego that couldn’t let go? You thought for sure that it was probably the latter.

“Did you even apologize, Doctor?” the HR head asked, her brow raised and eyes filled with judgment.

“Of course I did—” you began to explain, but before you could finish, Seokjin interrupted with a dramatic sigh, leaning further into his chair.

“It feels like she wasn’t even sorry,” he muttered, his voice dripping with exaggerated hurt.

Your jaw clenched, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. You shot him another glare, your patience wearing thin. “I literally apologized right after I bumped into you,” you protested, your voice tinged with frustration.

The HR head frowned, turning her disapproving gaze back to you. "Doctor Kim seems to think otherwise," she remarked.

Seokjin's lower lip jutted out in a pout as if your mild collision had ruined his entire week. He clutched the warm compress on his chest more theatrically, glancing at you with puppy-dog eyes.

This was so beyond ridiculous, but you had no choice but to play along for now. "I apologize again, Doctor Kim," you said stiffly, the words forced but necessary.

He shook his head slowly, “I don’t think I can function well this week…”

Of course, the HR head ate up his performance without hesitation. Her face twisted in concern as she asked, “How can we make this better, Doctor Kim?”

Seokjin didn’t miss a beat. He lifted his gaze toward you, looking up through his lashes with the faintest smirk hiding beneath his pout, as though he was plotting something.

You braced yourself.

“Well,” Seokjin began, his tone measured and sweet, “perhaps if Doctor Y/N could make amends...by spending a little more time making sure I’m alright. After all, accidents can have lingering effects,” he added, his voice a mixture of innocence and something else entirely.

Your patience snapped. “I bumped into you. You’re not a fragile vase!”

But he wasn’t going to let this go that easily, and judging by the look on the HR head’s face, you were stuck.

“Enough. Because of the inconvenience you caused to Doctor Kim, you are suspended for a week.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock. Suspended? For bumping into him? This couldn’t be happening. Your brain raced as you tried to process what had just been said, but all you could focus on was one fact—you couldn’t afford to be suspended. You literally couldn’t afford to lose a week’s salary.

Your crestfallen face almost made Seokjin stopped this act, but he couldn’t lose you. At least, not yet, he thought. Not until he figured out why his heart was fucking hurting when you weren’t around. Or why he was up all night because the thought of you leaving his life made him tossed and turned all night. Or why he was acting like a devious, Slytherin brat (something Jimin would surely was) just to keep you beside him.

“Or she could just assist me the entire month it’ll take me to recover-”

“Whole month?!” you repeated, dumbfounded at what your ex-crush was saying.

Seokjin’s eyes blinked innocently, as though he wasn’t pulling the strings of this ridiculous charade. “What?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, as if he didn’t understand the problem. “This way, you’ll get paid. Plus overtime. Plus premiums. Plus dinner with me everyday. What more can you ask?”

You stared at him, your jaw hanging open as you tried to process the audacity of his proposal. The way he smirked, leaning back slightly with a look of self-satisfied victory, only served to increase your frustration. This was outrageous, but somehow, you knew he was serious.

“Are you kidding me?” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t just—”

“Actually, I can,” Seokjin interrupted smoothly. “And I will. Unless you want to risk a suspension that you clearly can’t afford. It’s your choice.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat. Seokjin had you cornered. He was offering a solution that, while absurd and humiliating, was far better than the alternative. And the way he leaned in, as if he was sharing a secret, made it clear that he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Well?” he prompted, still wearing that smug grin.

[crescenthistory]

You and I, We’ve Grown Comfortable Here

Pairing: Lee x Reader

Summary: Two outcasts with nowhere to go decides to go nowhere together. In each other they find shelter, acceptance, intrigue and a bond neither expected to go as deep as it does.

Words: 13.6k

Warnings: not proofread, basically five fics in one (a year of their relationship developing), assault, hints at sexual assault, implied attempted rape, death, murder, cannibalism (bones&all hello), make-out sessions, blood, implied smut(?), panic attacks, implied abusive parents, kicked out of home, living in a car, crying, angst, slow burn, cannibals in love, hurt/much comfort, happy ending, lee's truck being a character in and of itself

A/N: i am so unwell, i wrote this whole thing in the span of ONE day. this man makes me unwell. anyway, if i ever write any other fics or drabbles for lee, unless otherwise specified, presume it is based on this background because i am obsessed with these two.

***

When you saw the headlights, your heart caught in your throat just a little. It was late, too late to be out walking down a relatively abandoned countryroad, too late to even be awake. With only the stars for company, you were dragging your feet as you were walking in the hopes of hitting a camping site soon. You had heard good rumours of one not far away from the town you are putting in your rearview mirror. Metaphorically of course, with no driving liscense or car, all you had to get from one place to another were your shoes and your bravery.

It had been a couple of months since you left home. Whenever you had the opportunity to sleep, you could still hear the shouting and the slamming of doors when your father finally threw you out for good. The home in question had never felt safe for you anyway, you had never fit into the small town cookie cutter they tried to press you into, even when it drew blood.

After all that, you might be best off alone you concluded, and have stuck to that as you made your way through the US. There was nowhere in particular you wanted to go, you just did not want to be tied down anywhere. You wanted to see, explore and feel.

You had been dabbling in hitchhiking over the months, always sending a silent prayer to gods you did not believe in before getting into the strange cars. With a knife always in the pocket of your hoodie, you felt relatively secure that you could defend yourself if worse comes to worse. Yet you knew you can never truly know. You tried to keep your head on you still.

There had not been any cars on the road you were currently occupying for the past two hours. It had, for a glorious moment, felt like yours. Just you and the pavement and the night. So, when the headlights lit you up for behind, you grew a bit weary. Part of you wanted to jump in it, unsure of how long you had left until the campsite, tired to the bone, but you knew you shouldn’t at this hour.

But you were also so incredibly tired.

The rumble of the engine neared closer and the driver dimmed the headlights. On your left, the car drove into view, an old beat up truck, and it was slowing down to stop beside you. Leaning over the passenger seat, a young man peered out through the rolled down window, a messy head of freshly dyed hair shining like a beacon in the dark. He watched you with a face torn between curios and cautious.

“You good?” he called out, trying to be heard over the noise of his car.

You didn’t answer right away. Instinct told you to keep walking, to keep your head down and stay invisible like you’d been doing all night. But something about him made you stop.

You squinted through the light. “What do you think?”

He let out a breathy laugh, the kind that was more habit than humor. "Yeah, didn’t think so." His voice was rough, not unfriendly, but sharp around the edges. He glanced down the empty road and then back at you. "Need a ride or something?"

Every ride so far had been a risk, a quiet leap of faith, and it wasn’t like you had a good track record with trusting people. Your parents had made sure of that, kicking you out like it was nothing, like you were the problem for being too loud, too you.

Still, you couldn’t keep walking forever. And there was something intriguing about this boy, out here alone in the night, just like you.

“I guess that’s where we’re at tonight,” was your response, and he nodded immediately with a halfsmile.

“Fair enough. Where you headed?”

“Anywhere but here.”

“Same,” he said, and for a moment, the two of you just stared at each other across the empty road. Something about him felt different — like he wasn’t just another passerby. You weren’t scared. Maybe that should’ve worried you.

He threw the passenger side door open. “You coming, or what?”

"Depends," you said, raising an eyebrow. "You a serial killer or something?"

He smirked, but there was a hint of something darker in his eyes, something guarded. "Not tonight."

"Comforting," you deadpanned, but you found yourself stepping closer to the truck anyway.

He watched you climb in with a kind of steady calm, like he was waiting for you to make the call. There wasn’t an ounce of threat in him, no leering or weird comments, just quiet, detached curiosity.

The truck smelled faintly of gasoline and something else, something metallic that made the back of your throat tighten, but you ignored it. There was a quiet ease to him, though, like he wasn’t thinking of you as prey – like he wasn’t thinking of you at all, really. He just… was. And it felt like enough.

The silence stretched between you as the truck rumbled down the road. Finally, you turned to him, curiosity itching at your thoughts.

“So, you pick up girls off the side of the road often, or am I just lucky?”

He gave you a side glance, something like amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. “Lucky’s a word for it.”

There was something raw in his eyes when he said it, a guarded edge you recognized. You didn’t push it. 

“I heard there is a campsite in the town over, I was thinking of maybe staying the night there,” you said, not wanting him to feel stuck with you in the car forever.

“The Meadows Site? Yeah, I was actually thinking of parking there for the night myself,” he said, giving you a curious glance before looking back to the road. “But it is a few more hours off.”

“Wow, I really am lucky you picked me up then.”

He snorted at that, a sound you somehow hadn’t expected to escape from him, but was amused to hear. You didn’t feel a need to chat further at the moment, and didn’t get the impression he did either. It was not uncomfortable though, the opposite actually. The atmosphere in his truck was comforting, to the point where you would almost fall asleep, though you really should not. Still, there was one thing left to ask.

“What’s your name, kind stranger?” you quipped, teasing tone evident in your voice. He smiled fully then, relaxing more into his seat.

“Lee. And yours, lucky girl?”

You told him your name and settled back into your seat yourself, watching the stars blur into the dark as the truck carried you further and further from everything you’d ever known.

***

It turned out you both had nowhere to go. No one waiting for you at the end of the line. No real reason for him to drive off without you the morning after your night spent in Meadows Site. He had borrowed you a blanket to lay on, thicker than the one you had been surviving on for a while now. After eating breakfast at a shop nearby that he showed you, clearly more familiar in the area than you, it just made sense to get back into the truck with him. That’s how you both rationalised it, as your eyes sparked with interest and entertainment whenever they met. Just made sense.

From that day, Lee’s truck became the closest you had had to a home in months. Maybe even years.

The miles between you and the world grew, but so did the distance between you and the versions of yourselves you left behind. You had nothing to offer each other apart from company, and nothing to lose from spending your days with one another. 

It became easy, almost too easy. Long stretches of road, music humming through the truck's radio, filling the space between the two of you. Conversations about nothing that meant everything — favorite songs, old memories that still hurt, silly stories from childhood, tragedies that were so massive it became intrinsically hilarious to you both, Stories you told in the dead of night when the world felt softer, more forgiving. 

Lee felt true in a way no other had. His company was comfortable, natural. A genuine friend that you could tease, maybe even flirt with a little when the mood struck. Nothing serious you would say. All in good fun, teenagers cruising through the Midwestern countryside.

It felt like forever, though it had only been a few weeks. The truck was a much better bed than the thin blanket you had relied on since you left the house you grew up in. You’d sleep in the backseat, sometimes curled up in the trunk with blankets piled up like a nest. On rare occasions, when exhaustion weighed you both down, you’d spring for a cheap motel, a temporary reprieve from the road.

The more you got to know Lee, the more that sense you had gotten about him on the night you met grew. Something was different about him, something you could taste on your tongue, a kind of unspoken understanding that simmered beneath the surface. You couldn’t explain it, not exactly, but there was something in Lee that reminded you of someone else. It wasn’t just the way he moved or the sharp look in his eyes – it was the way he held himself, the way he watched people, sizing them up like he knew more about them than they’d ever want to know.

You had known someone like that before.

Your uncle.

Your family never talked about him, not after he disappeared, but you remembered the day it happened like a movie in your mind. The last time you saw him. He had come to visit, just passing through, or so he said. You were young, but not young enough to forget the blood that stained his clothes, how his face was drawn, pale, like he was barely holding it together. How his teeth were off-white in a way you had never seen before. He had brushed it off when you asked him, saying he had gotten into a fight, nothing serious, but the way he smelled… it stuck with you.

The metallic tang of blood, the way it clung to him even after he cleaned up, how his eyes seemed wild and unfocused in the dim light of the kitchen. You could never explain it to someone without sounding insane. But yet somehow, you knew what he was. You knew.

Your parents didn’t say much about it then. They just watched him with wary eyes, their faces tight with something close to fear, though they never admitted it. When he left, they didn’t even look at that, and once he was gone they removed all photographs. They never mention him again, not even when you asked. It was like he had never existed. Like he had never even been part of the family.

You never met someone like him again, someone you could feel deep in your bones.

Until Lee. The Lee you looked at as he drove nonchalantly down roads, almost too relaxed to be sitting in a driver’s seat. He made all those pieces you had tucked away begin to slot together, forming a picture that put words to your instincts. The way your uncle had looked that night, the way your own body sometimes seemed to hum with something restless, it was all there, just waiting for you to acknowledge it.

You did not bring it up to him, it never seemed natural. And honestly, you didn’t feel the need to. For some reason, the idea of it all didn’t bother you. Lee was just Lee still, your road companion.

One night, you and Lee had parked the truck somewhere far off the main road, the stars stretched out like a tapestry above you. It was late, the kind of late where the world felt quieter, where the darkness seemed deeper, more honest. You were lying on a blanket in the bed of the truck, side by side, the silence between you comfortable but heavy, like something was waiting to be said.

The two of you had shared a lot already, more than you thought you had in you to share. He was still technically a strange man to you, it had not yet been a month. Still, you felt a bond with him you could not explain. His presence brought you peace in a world too large for you to grasp.

You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the way his fingers twitched restlessly by his side, like he was working through something in his head. Lee had been quieter than usual lately, more thoughtful, more distant. You didn’t push him – he was always like that, a little withdrawn when he was trying to sort through whatever was going on in his head. But tonight, it felt different. More pointed.

Finally, he broke the silence.

"Do you… know?"

The question caught you off guard. It was so vague, so quiet, that for a second, you weren’t sure if you had heard him right. You turned your head to look at him, but his eyes were still fixed on the stars above, his expression unreadable in the dim light. There was something in his tone, though. Cautious, like he wasn’t sure how you would answer. Like he was afraid to hear it.

You swallowed, your heart picking up speed. "Know what?"

His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening as he shifted slightly, still not looking at you. It seemed like he had hoped you would not ask. He was always careful, always measured with his words, but this time, you could tell he was holding something back. He exhaled slowly, and then, without turning his head, he said it again, this time more direct.

"About me. About what I am."

There was no uncertainty in you about what he was referring to. There it was, the thing you had been skirting around, the thing neither of you had spoken aloud. You knew, deep down, that this conversation had been coming for a while, with all the time you spent together, but now that it was here, the weight of it felt like a stone settling in your chest.

Your mind raced, memories of your uncle flashing through your thoughts, the blood on his hands, the way your parents had never spoken about him again. The way it all lingered in you like electricity. 

You nodded slowly, your voice quiet. "Yeah. I know."

Lee didn’t move, didn’t say anything for a moment, but you could feel the tension radiating off him, the way his body seemed to coil like a spring, ready to snap. His fingers drummed lightly against the truck bed, a habit he had when he was nervous, though he’d never admit it. 

You wondered how he knew to ask you, if he had seen it in your eyes. You guessed you could ask him. But this moment hung in the air between you with such fragility. It felt like something had shifted irreversibly between you, and you were not yet certain if it was a good thing or not.

When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, strained. "And you… don’t care? Or what? You don’t wanna leave?"

You turned to him fully, propping yourself up on your elbow to get a better look at his face. The starlight cast shadows over his sharp features, but his eyes—his eyes were clear, burning with something raw, something vulnerable he never let anyone else see. They were straining to remain trained on the sky.

"I’m not scared of you, Lee," you said softly, your voice steady but firm. "Or of it. I know who you are. And I know you’re a good person."

Lee’s breath hitched, just for a moment, barely noticeable, but you caught it. His eyes finally flickered toward you, the walls he kept up so carefully starting to crack. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. He just stared at you, a thousand thoughts racing behind his eyes, none of them quite making it out.

He swallowed hard, his voice dropping even lower when he finally spoke. "You don’t even know what I’ve done."

"I don’t need to," you said, your gaze locked on his. "I know you. I’ve been with you this long, and I think I have known all along. And I’m still here."

He stared at you for a long moment, his brow furrowed like he couldn’t believe what you were saying, like he was waiting for you to change your mind. But when you didn’t, when you just kept looking at him like none of it scared you, like you weren’t about to run, something in him seemed to shift. The tension in his shoulders eased, just a little, and he let out a slow, shaky breath.

"Why are you not afraid?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You shook your head, almost wanting to laugh. “You’re just Lee to me.”

Lee looked away again, his eyes tracing the stars, but his mind was far from the night sky. The silence stretched between you once more, but this time, it wasn’t heavy with tension. It felt lighter. Like a weight had been lifted, even if he wasn’t ready to say it yet.

You settled back in beside him, arm grazing his. Comfortable. 

For the first time in a long while, Lee let himself relax. He was always aloof, physically all over the place, but his mind remained alert. Now, he let it fall onto the pillow your words provided. He realized then, though he didn’t say it out loud, that the tightness in his chest, the thing he had been fighting for weeks, it wasn’t just nothing. He didn’t want to think the word, let alone say it. It had crept in slowly, so quietly that he hadn’t noticed it until it was staring him in the face. 

Love didn’t feel safe to him. Love was complicated, messy. Dangerous, even. And yet, here you were, sitting beside him, telling him you weren’t afraid, telling him you knew who he was and that it didn’t matter. That you’d stay.

It was a feeling he didn’t know how to name. Not yet.

He turned back to you, his eyes softer now, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You’re really not gonna leave, huh?"

You laughed a little at how he shared it like a revelation, shaking your head. "Nope. You’re stuck with me."

Lee let out a breathy laugh, a sound that seemed to ease the last bit of tension between you. He looked at you, really looked at you, and for the first time since he met you, he felt something close to hope. He didn’t say it, but in that moment, he knew he’d do whatever it took to keep you by his side.

"I could get used to that," he murmured, his voice quiet but sincere.

And as the two of you sat there, side by side under the stars, the unspoken understanding between you deepened, solidified. You weren’t leaving. You weren’t afraid. And for Lee, that was enough.

You fell asleep side by side, just you and the stars.

***

Nights passed like that, over weeks and months, with you and him slowly gravitating closer. 

Whether it be in the seats of the truck or the trunk, you always slept near each other. Originally you slept on either side of the trunk, or in each your seat, but as you spent most of your nights talking until either one of you passed out, it just felt natural to be close by.

Waking up with your limbs accidentally having gotten entangled, faces closer than you ever would be when conscious became a norm. The first time it happened, Lee woke first, but did not move until you woke, revelling in the touch of your body against his. Eyes studying your calm face, fully convinced this would be his only opportunity to be this close to you. When you came to, he pretended your movements woke him.

Neither of you spoke of it. There was no need to. Some things didn’t need words.

The more you got used to waking up entangled, the more intimate it became. You would find yourself laying on top of Lee’s chest, or his face would be tucked into the crook of your neck. Once this started happening, you both happened to begin to prefer sleeping in the trunk.

Despite your increasing comfort with each other, the nights were never completely peaceful. Sometimes you would wake up to find him gone, wandering somewhere. It was usually in the aftermath of a nightmare, but you also knew that he sometimes had other reasons for being gone.

You woke up in the middle of the night, the truck’s trunk feeling too empty, too cold. Instinctively, your hand reached over the space where Lee usually lay beside you, but all you felt was the crumpled fabric of his jacket. He wasn’t there. For a few seconds, you blinked in the darkness, groggy, your mind slow to catch up with the situation. The air felt wrong, too still, too quiet. That was when you noticed the faint sounds of movement just beyond the trees, down near the creek.

When possible, you two tried to park near a body of water, so you had the opportunity to wash up. You had also mentioned to Lee how relaxing you found lakes, and he started planning his routes around it after that.

You could hear heavy breathing and splashing by the water. Without thinking, you slipped out of the trunk, pulling on one of Lee’s hoodies he had discarded beside your blankets, and you quietly padded down toward the sounds. The moon hung low over the horizon, casting long shadows across the water, and that was when you saw him.

Lee was crouched near the edge of the creek, his shoulders tense, his hands dipped in the water. The pale light from the moon caught on his skin, but more than that, it illuminated the dark smudges smeared across his neck and arms. Blood.

He had not heard you yet, too focused on what he was doing – trying to scrub the blood away with frantic, almost desperate movements. He was shaking, his body too tense, like he was on the verge of unraveling. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, the material soaked in water and blood. His hair, usually a mess of carefully maintained chaos, stuck to his forehead in sweat-soaked strands.

For a moment, you didn’t move. You just watched him, heart aching at how broken he looked. It wasn’t like the Lee you were used to. This wasn’t the confident, quippy guy who could brush off anything with a smirk. No, this was the other side of him, the side he didn’t let you see. The one that carried all the weight of what he did, of who he was. The one that bled in more ways than just physically.

“Lee?” Your voice was soft, careful. You didn’t want to startle him, but you couldn’t just stand there, watching him like this.

He froze for a moment, his hands stilling in the water. He didn’t look up at you right away, just stared down at his own reflection rippling in the creek. “Go back to the truck,” he said, his voice rough, a little shaky. “I’m fine.”

But you could hear it. He wasn’t fine. Not even close.

A closer look at where he was sitting, you could see that he wasn’t fine physically either, his torn shirt revealing scratches across his upper body, bruises already forming along his arms in the moonlight. Whoever encountered your Lee tonight had put up a fight.

You ignored him, stepping closer, your bare feet sinking into the wet grass near the water’s edge. “You’re hurt.”

He let out a harsh breath, finally looking up at you. His face was pale, a little gaunt under the moonlight. His eyes, usually so sharp and full of something unreadable, were glassy. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, turning back to the water. “I’m just cleaning up.”

But you could see the way his hands trembled, how his movements were too rough, too quick, like he was trying to scrub the guilt away more than the blood. You stepped closer until you were beside him, crouching down at his level.

“Lee, look at me.”

He didn’t. His jaw tightened, and he kept scrubbing, the water turning pink as it mixed with the blood on his skin. 

"Lee," you said again, firmer this time, reaching out to gently touch his arm. 

He finally stopped, his hands hovering just above the surface of the water, but still wouldn’t look at you. “You weren’t supposed to see this,” he muttered, voice raw. “You weren’t supposed to—” He cut himself off, his shoulders hunching forward like he was folding into himself. “Shit.”

"What is wrong with me seeing this?" you asked quietly, your fingers tracing the outline of a bruise forming along his arm. "Why do you have to fix it yourself?"

He swallowed hard, still staring at the water. "Because you don’t need to deal with this. With me. You didn’t sign up for… any of this." His voice wavered at the edges, frustration mixing with exhaustion.

You shook your head, biting back the sting in your own chest. "You think I care about blood? About this? I knew what I was getting into, I told you so. If you’re hurt, I want to help."

He finally looked at you then, his expression flickering with something like disbelief. “You shouldn’t have to… see me like this. Like some… fuckin’ monster. No, no.”

“You’re not a monster,” you said firmly, and you didn’t waver. You tightened your grip on his forearm. You could see the bruises, the blood streaking down his neck in shapes that looked like somebody had scratched at him, put up a fight. You saw the way he clenched his jaw like he was holding everything in, trying not to crack open. You saw the way his eyes flickered with guilt, shame, like he couldn’t stand himself in that moment. The same boy that laughed with you in the car, who played jokes on strangers. Who usually tried to seem totally content with this lifestyle of his.

"Yes, I am," he whispered, his voice breaking. "You don’t… understand what it��s like. To have to do this, to –"

"I don’t have to understand everything," you cut him off, your hand sliding up to his neck, gently brushing through his damp hair. "But I know you. And I know you don’t have to do this alone. That is my choice, and I choose to be here for you."

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes closing for a brief moment like he was trying to pull himself together. But when he opened them again, you saw the vulnerability in them, the rawness that he tried so hard to keep hidden. He was struggling, fighting to keep himself together, to not fall apart in front of you.

You sat down beside him fully now, your knees brushing his, your hand still resting at the back of his neck. “Let me help.”

He hesitated, his pride fighting against the offer, but he was too tired to resist for long. Slowly, he nodded, his body slumping in defeat as he let you take over.

You helped him take of his torn t-shirt, leaving him bare to reflect the moonlight, and dipped it into the creek. The cold water soaking through the fabric as you carefully brought it back up to his skin, gently wiping away the dried blood from his face, his arms. He winced slightly when you dabbed at a few deeper cuts near his ribs, but he didn’t pull away.

"You don’t have to pretend with me," you said quietly, your eyes focused on cleaning him up. "You don’t have to be strong all the time."

Lee didn’t respond right away. He just watched you, his eyes following the way you moved, the way your touch was soft, careful. He let out a low breath, something like relief mixing with the exhaustion in his voice. “I hate that you’re seeing me like this.”

“Why?” You glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Because you’re hurt? Or because you’re human?”

He laughed roughly at that, shaking his head slightly. “I haven’t felt human in a long time.”

You paused, your hand stilling for a moment before you continued cleaning the blood from his neck. “You feel human to me.”

He went quiet again, his eyes studying you, the way you didn’t flinch, didn’t shy away from the mess of him. For a long time, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the gentle ripple of the creek as you worked, the soft splash of water as you wrung out the bloody fabric.

“He-” Lee began but his voice broke. You were patient, continuing to tend to him as he seemed to wrestle with whether to continue the sentence. Eventually: “He was a bad guy. I always try to make sure they are.”

It broke your heart to hear the pleading undertone of what he was saying. What he was trying to convey to you.

You weren’t entirely sure what the best response was, but you settled on telling him you believed him.

When you were done, you leaned back slightly, your hands resting on your thighs as you looked him over. He still had some bruises that would take time to heal, but most of the blood was gone, his skin clean again under the moonlight. None of his scratches were in need of any serious medical intervention, but you made a mental note to stop by a pharmacy in the morning regardless.

“There,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Better.”

Lee stared at you for a moment longer, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. Then, without warning, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “You shouldn’t have to take care of me like this.”

You closed your eyes, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders. “I want to.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move, just stayed there, eyes closed and his forehead resting against yours. His breath slowly steadying as he let himself lean on you, just for a little while.

“Thank you,” he murmured, so soft you almost didn’t hear it.

You smiled slightly, your hand moving to the back of his neck again, gently threading your fingers through his hair. “I told you. You’re not alone.”

“Not alone,” he mumbled and wiggled his forehead against yours briefly before pulling back and getting up.

He stretched a hand out to you, ready to pull you back with him to the truck.

***

A few states had ended up in your rearview mirror since you turned that creek pink and your hearts slightly softer. The atmosphere between you had shifted yet again, growing deeper and deeper each time. There was no acknowledgement of it, but there didn’t need to be. In the unspokeness, you could grow bolder. The touches, the glances, they took up more and more space in your increasingly small truck. You would yet again wake up in each other’s arms, and it no longer felt accidental.

It was the small things, too. The way his hand would brush yours when you walked side by side, or how he let his fingers linger a moment longer when you passed him something. The way your legs would press together in the truck when you shared the cramped front seat, neither of you moving away. Sometimes, when the truck was pulled off the road and you were both leaning against it, talking under the stars, his knee would bump against yours, and instead of pulling back, he let it stay there.

It felt like you were both waiting for something. The tension was not sharp, it was warm, almost inviting. You both knew what was next, but neither of you had made the move to cross that last, thin line.

You and Lee had spent the evening like you always did—driving, talking, letting the hours slip away into easy silences and the occasional laugh. Planning where to head to next. You had decided to drive to see the silliest places you could find, asking random strangers was the weirdest tourist attraction they have heard of is. On the list is Ben and Jerry’s Flavor Graveyard, the world largest ball of paint and a nuclear waste adventure trail. The night had come over you, and you ended up parked on the outskirts of a town, the lights from them illuminating you even in the dark. The two of you sat on the hood of the truck, your legs dangling off the edge, shoulders brushing.

He was quieter tonight. You could sense it in the way his gaze kept drifting over to you, then back to the stars. His hand rested on the metal beside you, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm, like he was thinking through something he had not decided on yet. But it wasn’t the usual restlessness that seemed to rule Lee’s entire existence. This was something different. Something quieter.

You nudged him gently with your shoulder. “You’re awfully quiet for a guy who never shuts up.”

He huffed a laugh, his head tilting toward you, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

You smiled, your eyes catching the faint light of the stars reflecting in his. It was moments like this that you felt the pull most strongly – the way his face softened when he wasn’t trying to keep his guard up, the way he let you see parts of him he didn’t show anyone else. There was something magnetic about Lee when he wasn’t hiding. It made you want to keep his doors open, to take them off their hinges.

His hand shifted, almost imperceptibly, his fingers brushing against yours on the deck of the trunk. It was barely a touch, just the faintest hint of skin against skin, but you felt it like a jolt, a reminder of how close you both were. You didn’t pull away, and neither did he. 

The silence stretched between you again, thick with something unspoken. It struck you how much serenity you felt in your soul in the silences with him, even when there was something brewing in it. You could feel him beside you, the warmth of him, the way his breath had slowed, his body still as if he was waiting for something.

Your fingers twitched, brushing against his again, and this time, you didn’t hesitate. You turned your hand over, palm up, an invitation as much as it was a question. Lee glanced down at your hand, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away, like he had so many times before. But instead, his fingers curled slowly around yours, his grip gentle but sure, and your breath caught in your throat.

Neither of you spoke. The understanding that had hung between you for weeks was right there, all you had to do was lean into it.

“Lee,” you whispered, not even sure what you were asking. You liked having his name in your mouth. 

He turned his body towards you at his name, shifting closer, eyes locked on yours. You could see the hesitation there, the way his brow furrowed slightly, like he was still fighting something inside himself, still holding back.

But you weren’t. Not anymore.

You leaned in, closing the space between you before you could second-guess yourself, your lips brushing his softly, testing. Just once, enough to give him an out, enough to say I’m here, if you are.

For a moment, nothing happened. Lee stayed perfectly still against you, his breath caught, his fingers tightening around yours. Then, slowly, almost tentatively, he leaned in further, his lips pressing back against yours, soft and warm. Open mouthed, lovingly.

It wasn’t rushed or desperate like you might have imagined. It was careful, deliberate, like he was letting himself feel it for the first time, like he wanted to make sure it was real. His free hand came up, brushing lightly against your jaw, his fingers tracing the edge of your face, almost as if he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t hold on.

You deepened the kiss further, savouring his touches, the feeling of his tongue against yours. Your hand glided up to his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. Slow but steady, the tension between you finally breaking in the gentlest way possible. It was like everything that had been building between you – every touch, every glance, every unspoken word – was spilling into that moment, into the way his lips moved against yours, into the way he held you like you were the only thing to hold.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested against each other, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. Lee’s eyes were still closed, his thumb brushing over your cheek as if grounding himself in the moment, his lips parted, trying to catch his breath.

You stayed like that for a while, it didn’t matter how long. Few things mattered, you had found. Lee did. 

When he finally opened his eyes, they were unguarded in a way you hadn’t seen before. He didn’t smile, but the look in his eyes said enough. He was here, with you, in whatever this was.

He whispered your name, a late response.

You hummed with a smile, your fingers still tangled in his shirt. No words were needed. There were none that could be said, not now, not yet. 

Lee chuckled softly, a sound that felt more like relief than anything else. He slid down from leaning against the truck, to laying on the deck, still not letting go of your hand. You followed suit, for the first time purposefully laying your body half on top of his, head resting on his chest. 

No more waiting.

There was a whole civilisation right before you, just out of reach, but for the first time in a long time, you weren’t thinking about the next destination. You were here, together, and that was all that mattered.

***

Once that barrier was breached, you and Lee found yourself stealing kisses of varying intensity more often than not. There was no label on the two of you, with your pasts you both were guarded from being the first to admit the intensity behind your actions. Yet, the need to be close was not dissipating as the days passed, if anything it only grew the more of a taste you got for each other.

One night, you found yourselves at a dive bar on the edge of some no-name town. The music thumped through the walls, too loud and too fast, but it matched the energy buzzing between you and Lee. The dim lights made everything look a little hazy, like the whole world was moving in slow motion. Lee leaned against the bar, his back to the crowd, his eyes fixed on you as you stood close to him, sipping on a cheap cider that barely tasted like anything. He hadn’t drank much tonight, which made the way he was looking at you feel even more intense.

There was something magnetic about him, the way he carried himself, the way his arm seemed to naturally find its way around your shoulders when in public, protective and possessive without being overbearing. You could feel the heat of his skin through your clothes, and you leaned into it, enjoying the comfort of his touch. 

It was late, and the air between you was only magnifying your need for him, his fingers barely touching yours on the bartop like he was daring you to pull him closer. He only moved them to order another round from the bartender, shooting you a wicked grin.

“Thoughts?” he asked you as he handed you your new drink.

“This place isn’t too bad. The guy at the bar isn’t either.” The smile you flashed him was teasing and he all but rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I guess we’re both alright.”

You were about to make some quip about his soft spot for dive bars when a figure caught your eye, and you tensed. A guy had sidled up to the bar a few feet away, his eyes fixed on you, too interested, too familiar. You glanced at Lee, but he was already clocking the guy, his body going still beside you, though his expression didn’t change.

The guy stumbled closer, his drink sloshing in his hand. “You two look like you’re having a good time,” he slurred, his gaze flicking between you and Lee with a smirk that made your skin crawl.

Lee’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away from the guy. His look could draw blood, but his voice stayed calm, almost flat. “We were.”

The guy either didn’t notice your discomfort and Lee’s adverse stance, or he just didn’t care. He leaned in a little closer, still grinning like this was all a joke. “Come on, man. Just trying to talk to her.”

You didn’t have time to respond before Lee shifted, his arm moving in one fluid motion to slide around your waist, pulling you against him in a way that felt natural, like he was drawing a line in the sand. “She’s not interested,” he said, voice low and steady, but you could feel the warning beneath the surface.

The guy blinked, clearly caught off guard by Lee’s calm intensity, and he let out a nervous laugh. “Hey, man, no need to get all protective. Just having fun.”

Lee kept staring him down, his grip on you tight, steadying you as much as he was putting space between you and the guy. “Well, you’re done,” he said, still in that same measured tone, like he wasn’t giving the guy a choice in the matter. “Go back to your drink.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, backing off with a muttered, “Alright, alright. Chill.” Slunking back into the crowd, he cast a few annoyed glances over his shoulder, but lacked the bravery to follow up on his annoyance.

Lee’s body was still taut with that lingering tension, eyes scanning the room again before he finally let out a breath. He didn’t pull away from you though, his hand resting on your hip as if he needed the contact to remind himself that you were alright.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, his voice softer now as he finally looked down at you, concern flickering behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” you whispered, trying to take in what just happened and how swiftly Lee handled it. Never before have you gotten away from a situation with a creepy man so fast. 

“Are you?” you eventually asked, looking up to see his jaw still slightly clenched.

He nodded, his expression softening slightly as he glanced down to meet your eyes. "Yeah. Just don’t like guys like that."

You smiled a little, leaning into him, your hand resting lightly on his chest. "I noticed."

His lips quirked into a small grin, and it felt easy again, back to just the two of you, even in this crowded bar. "You ready to get out of here?" he asked, his voice low, his breath warm against your skin now that you stood so close.

“Think so.” You finished your drink and without another word, he took your hand, leading you out into the cool night air. 

The bar’s noise faded into the background as the two of you walked back to the truck, your fingers still intertwined with his. There was something about the way he was holding your hand that made your heart race. It was tighter than normal, his thumb brushing over your skin.

You stopped by the passenger side door and Lee immediatley closed the gap between you, pressing you gently against the side of the truck. His hands rested on your hips, it was as if he had realised he could place them there now. When his gaze met yours, his eyes flickered with something dangerous, something raw.

"You know," he murmured, his voice rough, "I will always protect you. In any situation.”

You almost didn’t know what to say. It was so simple, yet he poured so much emotion into those words, and you felt them entirely.

“I do know,” you whispered. “I have never felt safety like this before.” The last part felt like a confession more than an answer. 

Lee’s breath hitched and he laid his forehead against yours, leaning more of his body against yours, so you were flush between him and the metal of the car.

“I’ve been trying not to kiss you all night. You’ve made it difficult.” Lee looked into your eyes as he said it, searching your face for a reaction. His pupils were wide, gaze intense.

You felt a shiver run through you at his words, the heat between you burning brighter. "Then stop trying."

He didn’t need any more encouragement. His lips crashed into yours with a force that knocked the breath out of you, one hand sliding up to grip your face while the other remained held your hips tighter, closer. His kisses were always languid, open-mouthed and passionate. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers threading through his hair and pulling at it as you kissed him back with equal intensity, your body arching against his. His mouth was warm and demanding, and when he kissed you, it felt like everything else in the world fell away.

The kiss deepened quickly, his hands moving up under your shirt, the cool air mixing with the heat of his touch. His mouth trailed down to your jaw, your neck, each kiss igniting sparks along your skin. You gasped softly, tilting your head to give him better access, your fingers travelling to dig into the skin of his back

"God," he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and breathless, like he could barely control himself.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, merging under the stars, the truck a silent witness to the way your bodies moved together, the way you couldn’t seem to get close enough. You lost track of time, lost track of everything except the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands on your skin. He was beginning to become your Lee.

***

Living with Lee changed you in many ways, but the most important was that for the first time in your life, you felt free. Whether it was the boy’s attitude or his attentiveness to you, or the roads that stretched for miles like ink on paper, you settled into your own body and existence. You owned yourself and your destiny in a way you didn’t think possible.

As you shared more of yourselves with each other, you realised just how repressed you had been, just how much of you had been shut off. In your newfound safety in Lee, you could open up.

Things long locked away were stirring within you. Some painful, some exciting. And some, you didn’t have the words to describe yet.

For the time being, you were on a quest to a museum of the history of cheese that an old lady at a café had been raving to you about. It was another state over, but this sweet woman insisted it was worth it, and as you were the ones who asked her about a recommendation, you felt it only right to trust her word.

On the way there, you were stopping in a typical shittown, the kind where nothing really happens but somehow everyone knows everyone else’s business. Craving excitement after a long day in the car with your feet in Lee’s lap, you asked him to go looking through town for something to do. There was a bonfire party that night, something thrown together by a group of locals, and you figured that would do.

 The fire crackled in the center of the gathering in the middle of the forest, the air heavy with smoke and alcohol. Lee’s arm was slung loosely around your shoulders as you walked through, scouting the place.

"You wanna stay long?" he asked, voice low in your ear.

You shook your head, leaning into him a little. "Nah. Let’s just see how it goes."

He nodded, but you could feel the tension in him, like he was always keeping one eye on the crowd. That protective streak ran deep in him, and you couldn’t help but wonder where it came from.

The two of you settled down on a log by the fire, chatting with some locals and getting your kick out of listening to them drawl away about town drama. A man had been circling where you were sat, both you and Lee noticed, but he never approached.

Needing to get some water from the truck, you squeezed Lee’s leg and told him you’d be right back.

He let his arm fall from around you to let you up, but looked at you with concern. “Don’t be long.” You just smiled. He watched you go, his eyes lingering on you longer than you realized.

You were walking back with water in hand, still on the outskirts of the bonfire and shielded from view when you saw the man coming up towards you. He looked the exact same as every man who had been a bother to you since you began life on your own and your stomach soured.

"Hey," the guy’s voice was a slurred mix of alcohol and bravado, his grin too wide, too familiar. "Why’d you leave your pretty boy toy behind? Done with him and ready for me?"

Your skin prickled with unease, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “I’m good. You should head back.”

He ignored you, stepping closer. "Come on, don’t be like that. We’re vibing, right?"

He reached for you, his hand brushing your arm, and you jerked back instinctively. “Don’t touch me.”

The grin on his face faltered, replaced with something darker. “You’re just playing hard to get,” he muttered, his voice low and threatening now. "Girls like you always do."

“Back off!” you tried, but he took quick steps toward you.

Your heart raced, and before you could step away, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with bruising force. You twisted, trying to wrench yourself free, but he was stronger than he looked. His other hand moved to his pocket, and when he pulled out the glint of a blade, panic surged through you.

"Stop –"

"You’re not going anywhere –"

What happened next was a blur—a clash of instincts, fear driving your body into overdrive. He lifted the knife towards your throat, likely to threathen and not harm in the moment, but you could not wait to see how that would turn out. Your body moved before your mind could catch up, your hands lashed out, grabbing his wrist with one and prying the knife away with another. Suddenly the blade was in your hand, and when he threw himself on top of you, you shoved him off with one hand and used the knife with the other. 

It found its home in his neck.

You scrambled away, not yet realising what had just happened. At your hands. You stared at him in shock where he laid in front of you, the sounds sickening, wet gurgle as his throat opened up. Blood poured out in a thick stream, hot and fast, soaking his shirt.

In shock and desperation, you grabbed at the wound as if to counteract what you had just done, but he took that opportunity to grab you by the hair and neck, attempting to choke you. Fear surged through you once more, but his once-hard grip was already weakening and you could wrestle free.

By the time you recovered and looked up, the life had drained from his eyes. All you could hear was your breathing and the pulse in your head.

You could smell the blood. On your hands, on his clothes, still oozing from his wound. It was dizzying, the world becoming distant as you were trapped inside this bubble that consisted of the two of you. You and the corpse.

You realised you had never seen a corpse before, not in person. Smelling fresh blood was different from smelling it once it had harkened on Lee’s skin. Not even the thought of Lee could drag you out of the state you were slowly being pulled into.

Without fully acknowledging your movements, you moved back towards the man, the one who had wished you dead and died by his own knife. Your eyes were fixated on his wound, something building inside of you at a rapid speed. A coil built in your stomach, one you had known was there for essentially forever, without the ability to give it a name.

It snapped. And as it did, you leaned down and sunk your teeth into his neck.

Everything felt right, not the kind of comfortable right you had developed with Lee, it felt like your body was finally getting air after a long period of suffocation, it felt like water after a long run. It felt like a meal after having been starving.

Your face was buried further and further in the flesh, your mind completely void of all thoughts. Just your fingers and teeth, blood and bone. Feral, instinctive, lost in the hunger that just kept building, like it was never enough. 

"Shit."

A switch went off, and you were snapped back to reality. The smell of forest pine and moss, bonfire and smoke crept back in. As you slowly lifted your gaze, you saw him standing at the edge of the clearing, eyes wide, his face pale in the moonlight. His gaze was locked on you, and for the first time since you met him, you saw real shock on his face. Not fear exactly, but something close. Something you didn’t expect.

Horror.

“Lee…” Your voice broke, barely a whisper. The reality of what you’d just done hit you all at once, crashing into you like a wave. “Oh, God.”

Your eyes flashed back down and suddenly it was as if you realised you had a corpse at your feet. You scrambled backwards, breathing quickening, horrified and lost. You stared at your hands as tears were beginning to blur your vision, only worsened by how you couldn’t even see your skin’s colour through all the blood. Small curses kept spilling out past your lips as your eyes darted between the man, your hands and Lee.

“I– I didn’t mean to, I–” Your voice broke.

Lee took a step forward, his face still a mask of shock. For a moment, he just stood there, frozen in place, staring at the blood smeared across your skin. He’d always sensed something in you, always felt that you and him were the same in some way, but this… this was different. He hadn’t smelled it on you before. He had no idea.

“I didn’t– I don’t know what happened, I just–” You couldn’t make sense of it. Of anything. Your world was turned upside down.

“Hey.” Lee had made his way over to you, sitting on his knees in front of you. His voice snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts, low and firm but not harsh. He closed the distance between you grabbing your arm, pulling you up from the ground. His grip was steady, but there was urgency in it now. “We gotta go.”

You blinked at him, still in shock, the reality of what you’d done slowly settling in. “But –”

“I know, I know, okay?” He pulled on a piece of hair plastered to your skin by blood, tucking it behind your hair. “I get it. But we gotta go. Now.” His voice cut through your haze of confusion and guilt. He didn’t wait for you to respond, didn’t give you the chance to argue. He grabbed you by the waist, practically lifting you off your feet as he dragged you away from the body and into the trees.

The world around you blurred as he pulled you through the forest, his grip firm, unyielding. The pounding in your head drowned out everything else– the sound of the party, the crackle of the bonfire, the smell of blood still clinging to you. All you could think about was what you had just done. What it meant. What you were.

By the time you reached the truck, you were shaking, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Lee shoved you into the passenger seat, his hand still gripping your arm like he was afraid you might bolt. He climbed in beside you, slamming the door shut, his face hard and unreadable as he started the engine.

For a while, there was nothing but the hum of the road, the world outside the truck a blur of dark trees and empty stretches of highway. Lee didn’t say anything, his eyes locked on the road ahead, his grip tight on the wheel. Mind racing almost as fast as the car, as he sped down the highway, determined to get as far away from the scene as possible. You sat beside him, leaning your head on the dashboard in front of you as you tried to gather yourself. Your hands still trembling, blood still drying on your skin. 

You could barely breathe, the walls of the truck closing in around you. The reality of what you had done hit you again, harder this time. You had killed someone. Eaten someone.

You choked on a sob, tears already streaking the blood on your face. Your chest was tightening, your vision blurring. “Lee, I–”

There was no way for you to finish the sentence.

With your eyes clenched shut, hidden away, making yourself as small as possible in your seat, you couldn’t see the pained look he gave you. He needed to protect you by putting distance between you and the crime. But all he wanted was to pull you close.

“It’s okay. I will stop as soon as I can. It’s okay.” 

Eventually he caught eye of a discreet sideroad and veered the truck down it as fast as possible. He slammed on the brakes, parking the car on a plot of grass by a river. The engine cut off, leaving the night in a sudden, heavy silence. In the blink of an eye, Lee was out of the truck, opening your door to pull you out as well. You were too out of it, not processing anything that was happening. He ended up scooping you into his arms and carrying you bridal style down to the riverside. 

One bloody bride that is.

He sat you down by the water, his hands still firm on your arms, not giving you room to break down yet. "Sit here." His voice was softer now, but still edged with urgency. He knelt beside you, shrugging off his jacket and dipping it into the water. The cold night air hit your skin, but you barely felt it, still lost in the haze of panic.

You sat there, frozen, as he started to clean the blood off your hands, your arms, your face, as carefully as he could when hurrying. His touch was careful, deliberate, the way it had been when you first found him at the creek, battered and trying to clean himself up. But there was something different this time, something softer, more protective, like he wasn’t just cleaning the blood away, but trying to take some of the weight of it with him. Like he was saying, You don’t have to carry this alone. His jaw was clenched, eyes focused entirely on you, like he was trying to fix you, trying to put you back together piece by piece.

“Lee,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Am I–?” You couldn’t finish the sentence.

He paused, his hands stilling for just a second before he looked up at you. His expression softened, something breaking in his eyes. He reached up with a wet hand, brushing over your cheek and simultaneously cleaning some blood off. "You don’t have to be scared of it," he murmured, his voice low, steady. "Or of me."

You blinked, tears welling in your eyes. "I don’t understand."

“I’m here.” His fingers remained on your face, wiping away the tears before they could fall too far. “I’m not going anywhere. You hear me?”

You gave a faint nod. 

For a long moment, neither of you said anything, the weight of what had just happened hanging between you. He kept trying to get as much blood as possible off you, making you presentable again both in case someone saw you and to help you feel normal again. He didn’t try to explain it, didn’t try to rationalize it. 

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “He attacked me, I protected myself and then, then–”

“I know,” he said quietly, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I know.”

Lee made sure your face and hands were free from blood, and then he helped you out of your stained sweater, leaving you in just your top underneath. He discarded it quick and turned back to you, grabbing your shaking hands.

“We need to move again, sweetheart” he said, voice low but certain. “We can’t stay too close.”

He stood up, reaching out to pull you up with him. His movements were quiet, purposeful. He didn’t rush you, but there was a tension in the air now, like he was calculating the next move. You could tell his mind was already working ahead, mapping out the quickest way to get you both far from the scene, far from the mess you left behind.

Your legs wobbled as you stood, your body still weak from the adrenaline crashing out of your system, but Lee’s grip on you was firm, guiding you back toward the truck. He opened the passenger door, helping you in before sliding into the driver’s seat. He tentatively took your hand with the one that wasn’t on the steering wheel, rubbing circles on it with his thumb as a silent comfort. The truck rumbled to life beneath you, and for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of the engine, drowning out the thoughts you didn’t want to face.

"I didn’t know it would feel like this," you whispered once you were back on the road, your voice shaking. "I never… I didn’t think I’d ever be like this."

Lee was quiet for a moment, his eyes trained on the road, like he was thinking carefully about what to say next. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady, though there was something distant in it, like he was pulling from his own memories. "First time I fed… I couldn’t stop shaking afterward. Not ‘cause of the blood. It was the way it felt. Right and wrong all at once. Like it was something I was supposed to be ashamed of, but my body just didn’t care."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words hitting you in a way that made your chest tighten. It was exactly how you felt – the rush of power, the satisfaction of feeding, mixed with the horror of what you had done. You had never wanted this, but it was like your body had decided for you.

"I didn’t want to stop," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t even think about it. I just… gave in."

Lee turned to you, his eyes soft but serious, and for a moment, you could see the weight of his own guilt mirrored in his expression. "That’s what it does. That’s what the hunger is." He paused, his jaw clenching briefly before he continued. "It takes over. And once it does… it’s like you don’t have a choice anymore. You just need."

You shivered, wrapping an arm around your stomach, trying to shake off the phantom feeling of the blood on your skin, the taste of it still faint on your lips. "I’m going to need it now,” you said, the realisation setting in. “How do I handle that?”

He exhaled slowly, and you saw the streetlights reflected in his eyes as they grew somewhat glossy. "You learn. Little by little. You get to know the hunger, learn how to control it instead of letting it control you. I will help you with it. You won’t do it alone.”

The tears you’d been holding back started to spill over, and you turned away, trying to hide your face. "I don’t really know what to do with myself now.”

He remained quiet, just held your hand tighter. 

For a long while, you just sat there, letting the silence and the weight of his words wash over you. The night felt vast around you, you realised now that Lee had rolled down the windows for you. Likely to help you breathe better. You should have known Lee would understand, because of course he would. Yet, there had been fear that he would be angry, disgusted. He wasn’t, not even a little bit. If anything, he was calm. Steady. Like this wasn’t something that could break you.

He built a little bit of confidence you, even as you felt your insides caving in.

The road stretched out ahead of you in silence, the dark trees a blur outside the windows. Lee was counting the miles until it would be safe to stop for the night, just a little bit longer. The truck was filled by spiraling thoughts from you both.

Lee had to stop himself from going down a rabbithole of blaming himself. Thinking that he influenced you, that maybe, if you hadn’t met him you never would have discovered this part of you. He wanted to hate himself, he wanted to break down, but with every glance over at you he knew he couldn’t. Your feelings were what mattered tonight. He knew he needed to keep it together to guide you through it. 

You had been crying on and off for the past hour, struggling with too many emotions at once. To process the assault and the intense fear you felt. Guilt consumed you, but not necessarily for killing the man, as you knew you had to, but then you felt guilty about your lack of guilt, and it was a never ending spiral. You felt horrible about feeding on him, about the discovery that you were an eater. When it was Lee it didn’t bother you, because, as you had come to realise, you just loved him. You know he is good. But you? That one was harder.

Then, your mind went to more practical matters. You had killed someone, feasted upon their body and then abandoned it. There were so many layers of illegal in those actions, and a new kind of fear and panic grabbed you.

Lee had seen these emotions develop in his peripheral, subconsciously speeding a bit faster, looking for somewhere safe to stop.

Your chest began to tighten, the panic from earlier threatening to bubble up. “Lee…” Your voice cracked, barely holding itself together. “What if someone finds out?”

He glanced at you briefly, his face unreadable. “They won’t.”

“But–”

“We’re not going back. Not to that town, not anywhere near it.” His voice was firm, cutting through your panic with the same intensity he had used earlier. “By the time they realize anything, we’ll be long gone. We’re already long gone.”

His words were meant to be comforting, but they didn’t settle the storm in your chest. You squeezed your hands together, spotting some leftover blood around your cuticle. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like the air in the truck was too thick, too stifling. The man’s corpse was laying on top of your lungs and you were suffocating.

“Lee… I…” You gasped, scratching at your skin, your vision starting to blur. You couldn’t catch your breath, couldn’t think past the overwhelming guilt, the horror of what you’d done.

He called your name, but you couldn’t register anything anymore.

The truck swerved again as Lee pulled off the road, gravel crunching under the tires as he pulled up to a small clearing, hidden behind a stretch of trees. An answered prayer. 

He immediatley turned to you, his brow furrowed with concern, his voice steady but laced with urgency. "Hey. Hey, breathe. Sweetheart, I think you’re having a panic attack."

You tried to speak, but your words got caught and you were doubling over in the space that felt more and more confining.

In a swift motion, Lee had pulled you over the console and into his lap, opening the door beside him to let in as much air as possible. He held you securely, tight grip meant to ground you as he tried to talk you down.

With a hand on your cheek, he made you meet his eyes. "Look at me. You gotta breathe, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth. Focus on me."

You tried, but the panic had taken hold, your mind spiraling out of control. "I killed him. I killed him, and–"

"I know," Lee cut you off, his voice soft but firm. "You did. But it’s fine. It is fine, you are fine. I know. But you’re gonna be okay. You’re not in danger. Just breathe. Please breathe."

His words didn’t allow for you to argue, quelling your disagreements before you could make them. He cupped your face, stroking his thumb along your jaw, and exaggerated his breathing so you could follow it. In and out. He was so close, his eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, all you could focus on was him. He was pulling you back from the edge.

"Breathe," he repeated, his voice a low murmur. "That’s all you need to do right now."

You closed your eyes, following his lead, trying to pull air into your lungs the way he told you. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Slowly, painfully, the tightness in your heart began to ease, your breath coming in shaky but more controlled gasps.

When you opened your eyes again, Lee was still watching you, his hand still gently cupping your face, his thumb brushing away the tears you hadn’t noticed falling. "There you go." His voice barely above a whisper. "Just like that."

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch, your body still trembling but no longer on the verge of breaking. "I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice fragile and raw.

Lee shook his head, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "Don’t be. You didn’t do anything wrong."

You wanted to argue, to tell him that you had done something wrong, something unforgivable, but the way he was looking at you – like you weren’t broken, like you weren’t some monster, made the words die in your throat.

"I’ve got you," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. "I always got you. You’re good."

The weight of his words, the certainty in them, settled deep in your chest, pushing back the panic, the fear. You weren’t alone in this. You had Lee. You always had Lee.

You stayed like that for a while, just sitting in his lap in the truck, your breath finally steadying as the night stretched out around you. You didn’t notice how hard you were holding onto Lee, clutching his shirt and even some skin, but he didn’t say anything either. He just stayed beside you, his hands never leaving you, grounding you, pulling you back from the edge every time the panic threatened to take over again.

You breathed together. Through it all.

After what felt like hours, he finally spoke, his voice quiet but sure. "Let’s get settled down, okay?”

You nodded, too tired to argue, too drained to do anything but follow his lead. Lee helped you out of the seat, his arm steady around your waist as he guided you down. He went around the truck, gathering the blankets from the backseat, more than he would usually grab, and set up your usual makeshift bed in the trunk as quickly as possible.

Together, you climbed into the softness he had created just for you. It felt odd to do something so familiar when it felt like everything had changed. Lee had not, still watching you, as he leaned back against the cab of the truck. You pulled on one of his sweaters, settling in beside him. He tangled your feet together and grabbed your hand, but didn’t initiate more than that, expectantly waiting for you to process your thoughts out loud with him.

Your eyes were slightly glossy again when you whispered, "Thank you."

He shook his head, immediately softening. "You don’t have to thank me."

"I do," you whispered, your voice catching. "You didn’t have to do any of this. And you did."

Lee’s hand tightened slightly on your knee, his thumb brushing over the fabric of your pants. "Of course," he said, his voice low but firm. "You’re stuck with me, remember?"

A small, broken laugh escaped you, something warm flickering in your chest. You looked up at him, tears blurring your vision, but there was a kind of quiet relief there, too. Lee’s gaze was steady, unwavering, like no matter what had happened, no matter how far you had fallen, he was there to pull you back.

"Lee…" you started, but the words caught in your throat, too many emotions swirling inside you to put into words.

He seemed to understand anyway. Without saying anything, he angled himself more towards you, his forehead resting against yours. The closeness, the way his body pressed gently into yours everywhere, was enough to calm the last of your racing thoughts. You let out a shaky breath, your hands reaching up to gently hold his face, your fingers brushing through his hair.

For a moment, you just stayed like that, your breaths mingling, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

"I’ve got you," he whispered, his voice so soft it was almost lost to the night air. "You’re safe."

Something in his voice, the way he said it, made your heart clench. He had never said it out loud, but you knew. He tipped your chin up, meeting your lips with a searing kiss, one that felt like promise. 

It felt like forever before he pulled away, far enough to be able to see your eyes, searching your face for more hurt to quench. You could see his bottom lip quivering slightly before he said it.

"I love you.” 

Life stilled in the small clearing, and the weight of the past year came tumbling down on you. All you had done, all that had changed. How painful it had all been. How worth it it all was, to be sitting here in this boy’s arms now.

You took him in, your breath shaky. His words hung in the air between you, raw and real in a way that made your pulse race. 

He smiled, understanding your reaction. His forehead went back to yours, his hands cradling your face gently, his thumbs tracing slow, soothing circles against your skin. There was nothing aloof about him now. He was all here, in this moment, focused on you like nothing else mattered. "I'm serious," he murmured, his voice soft, the vulnerability in it something you'd never heard before. "I love you."

Your throat tightened, grappling with the weight of it all. "Still?" you whispered, your voice trembling. 

His grip tightened slightly, pulling you closer, his breath warm against your lips. "You think this scares me? You think any of this changes how I feel about you?" His gaze was intense, a burning passion that steadied you, even as your heart threatened to tear itself apart. "You’re still you. This doesn’t make you someone else. So, yeah. Still. Always."

Your heart soared, a flood of emotions you hadn’t expected surging to the surface. You kissed him again, slowly, just lips pressed against lips as you tried to calm yourself.  "I don’t know what life looks like for us now.”

"Then we’ll figure it out," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like there had never been another option. “Part of the fun, right?”

He pulled away just to kiss your forehead and temples, lingering there for almost a beat too long before pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. "You're not alone in this. I’m not letting you go through it alone. Got it?"

You blinked back the hot, stinging tears that threatened to spill over. The calm in his voice, the unwavering certainty in his eyes grounded you like no else. It felt impossible, but here he was, telling you that you weren’t lost, that he wasn’t leaving, no matter what happened.

"I need you, you know," he whispered against your cheek, kissing it once more. "I don’t think you get that."

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer. You clung to him. "I do," you said, your voice soft but firm. "I need you, Lee. Desperately."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Then don’t overthink it." 

And before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, kissing you like it was the only thing keeping him alive. There was a quiet desperation in the way he kissed you, like every ounce of the feelings he couldn’t quite say were being poured into that moment. His hands cupped your face, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss as though he was trying to erase the space between you.

You kissed him back with the same intensity, your fingers tangling in his hair, your body pressing into his, craving the closeness, the connection. Everything else faded into the background, drowned out by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the warmth of his hands on your skin.

His lips left yours for just a moment, brushing against your jaw, then trailing down your neck, each kiss soft but deliberate, making your breath hitch. "I’m not going anywhere," he murmured again, the words muffled against your skin. "You’ve got me. No matter what."

You couldn’t find the words, so you kissed him again, your hands tightening in his hair, pulling him closer. He responded instantly, his arms wrapping around you, holding you tight against him as though he was afraid to let go, as though you might disappear if he loosened his grip.

For a long moment, the world was just the two of you. Nothing else mattered. It was just you and him, and the quiet understanding that you were in this together. 

When you finally pulled back, breathless, your forehead pressed to his, you let out a laugh, more from the relief of having him here than anything else. It made him give you a curios smile, just happy to see you regain some of your usual behavior.

 "So," you whispered, your lips brushing his as you spoke, "are you gonna say it again, or what?"

He let out a low chuckle, his arms still wrapped around you, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. "I love you," he said, his voice warm, no hesitation this time. "I love you. I’m not scared to say it, even if you make me say it a thousand more times."

"Good," you murmured, leaning in to kiss him again, softer this time, but no less meaningful. "Because I love you too. And I’m not letting you go."

A faint smile tugged at his lips, and he kissed you back, slow and lingering, like he wanted to memorize the feel of you against him. When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathless, his forehead resting against yours.

"We’ll figure this out," he promised softly, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your arm. "Whatever happens, we will be fine. Together."

You nodded, your heart finally settling, a sense of calm washing over you. "Yeah. We will."

And with that, the two of you sank down into the blankets, the night quiet at last. Lee’s arm stayed wrapped around you, his lips pressing soft kisses to whatever exposed skin he could find, as if he couldn’t quite believe that you were real, that this moment was real. 

As you lay there, tangled together, the world felt a little less terrifying. You had each other, and somehow, that was enough.

[baeshijima]

— of lattes and dozing generals

in which you're just a cafe employee, and he is the luofu's revered general — the one who can never seem to stray too far from you, no matter how much time passes.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 10.4k wc, fluff, some angst, hurt/comfort, coffee shop!au(-but-not-really-but-yeah-but-also-not), set slightly before current timeline, (old) friends to lovers, (attempts at) humour, pining pining bc they are old..., mentions of death (reader killed a mara-struck for the first time), hints of blade x reader if you squint

A/N : after a month the fic is done... i am so unwell for this man good lord ಥ_ಥ

General Jing Yuan is a cafe addict. That much is common knowledge among the citizens of the Luofu. Spanning from those who have been around for as long as he — and even older — to children and visitors alike, there’s not one person who hasn’t heard of this rumour.

When asked by a few brave (or nosy, depending on how you look at it) souls, the corners of his lips merely quirk up in a display of fond affection as he vocalises with equal sentiment, “They have my favourite there. How can I possibly resist the temptation?”

…Yeah. Whatever that meant.

Unsurprisingly, word spreads fast. News of the Cloud Knight’s general making regular trips to a meagre cafe? Just what in the world did they have to cause the great, beloved General Jing Yuan to return time and time again?

In the end, no one could actually figure out what his favourite item on the menu was. Every time he went in, it would always result in him leaving with something new! The only consistent occurrence, however, was the same employee taking his order with an expression akin to that of exasperation.

Meanwhile, to the regulars who have grown used to his profound presence within the humble cafe, they know better. This so-called ‘favourite menu item’ rumour that’s been going around? Preposterous! Having bore witness to the general breeze through the entrance in a bee-line to wherever it is you may be currently stationed (typically behind the counter) on many occasions, they’re confident the last thing in Jing Yuan’s mind when visiting is the menu.

After all, for what reason would he have to visit other than to converse with and see his favourite employee?

As a Xianzhou Native, you’ve experienced many oddities and menial routines throughout your extensive life. From being a medic-slash-supporter during countless wars and purges to your current job in a humble cafe, your options are beginning to run thin. After all, life is about exploring the new and revisiting the old (in your philosophy, at least), and there’s plenty of time to do so after having lived as long as you have.

Granted, outside of your role in purging the Denizens of Abundance, it’s safe to say your current occupation in the cafe has been your longest one yet! Well, you suppose the citizens of the Luofu — and, by extension, the Xianzhou Alliance — were never really ones for drastic change. At least the outworlders who come to visit bring some semblance of entertainment in your mundane life.

Yes. Your simple, mundane life you have come to appreciate.

“I see you’re busy as ever,” comments a baritone voice — languid in intonation yet you’re no stranger to the power which belies it. Against your better judgement, your eyes lift from the marbled counter to meet the smiling face of the bane of your existence, and the general whom the masses respect and fawn over. “Mind taking another customer?”

Ah. Right. This guy.

Out of everything that has been thrown at you, you’re almost certain this man takes the cake for the strangest experience in your life. And the longest, you suppose.

Although, it seems the same can’t be said for your coworkers, as you practically hear their beams of excitement before they can vocalise it.

“Welcome back, General Jing Yuan!”

You sigh at the enthused greeting from one of your coworkers, the beginnings of a headache teetering along the edges of your conscience. 

Ignoring the commotion, you resume your work. What was it you were making again…? Oh, right. One milk tea and a—

“If you keep frowning like that, you’ll drive away customers.”

“Will it drive you away?” you retort, focusing on the last part of the order. After securing the small fruit tart from behind the display case, you pass the milk tea and pastry to a coworker so they can take it to the customer.

“Sorry to disappoint,” he drawls, impish smile magnified by the glimmer in his eyes when you turn to make contact, “but it’ll take much more than that to drive me away.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, unsure of what it is exactly he wants from you this time. Your eyes begin to narrow. “Are you saying a smile will drive you away?”

He feigns an exaggerated expression of hurt. “Drive me away? Oh, how your accusations wound me!” A chuckle bubbles from his throat when you glare at him for his theatrics, lifting his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I concede. Would you believe me if I said I’m worried your attention will be stolen away from me if you smile?”

“Not at all.”

“I’m merely looking out for you, [Name],” he says with a sigh, a shake of his head and a light tutting sound. “While I am immune to your smile, the customers are not. I don’t wish for you to be bored due to the lack of customers.”

Seriously, you can’t believe this guy sometimes. If he wants a challenge, then you accept.

And so you close your eyes and present your best century-perfected customer smile (which, to your credit, has been the number one selling point for many of the regulars and returning customers), deciding to play along with his whims. “Welcome back, General Jing Yuan. Would you like your usual today?”

(Granted, he likes to vary his order every now and then but the caramel latte seems to be his most consistent choice as of late. Pretty good taste, if you do say so yourself.)

“…”

…Why is it so quiet all of a sudden? Did everyone just unanimously decide to up and leave?? Is there a minute of silence you’re unaware of???

A meek cough disrupts your thoughts. Relieved at the new sound, you open your eyes only to be stumped by the general in front of you. His prior relaxed posture is now rigid, eyes focusing everywhere but on you. Wait, upon closer inspection, is he… shaking?

“...Please excuse me.”

Huh?

You’re not given much time to process his words. With one swift turn he’s already stalking towards the door.

“Hey! What happened to not being driven away?!” He doesn’t turn back at your shout. No, it seems to only make him speed-walk faster. Barely a blink and he’s gone, the only indication of his presence being the echoing chimes of the bell.

He bigged himself up saying he wouldn’t be driven away but then he goes and leaves you in the dust the moment you smile.

What a hypocrite.

(Unbeknown to you, the regulars who happened to witness the spectacle could only chuckle in fond exasperation at their general’s splutter and flushed skin, the only time they can truly get a read on his thoughts, and your dumbfounded expression.)

“One milk tea, as always.”

“No need to sound so enthusiastic,” Tingyun laughs before thanking you. A satisfied hum leaves her lips when drinking the beverage, and that’s all the indication you need to know you have, once again, aced the recipe.

Well done, me! You deserve a pat on the back and a century-long holiday away from as many people as possible!

Graceful movements snap you out of your fantasies. You blink rapidly to process the flutter of a fan, a disarmingly sweet giggle and a cold, paper-like material pressed into your palm.

“Have fun with your dream man~”

“Wait what—”

And then she’s gone, leaving you to stare blankly at the place she was standing mere moments prior. You’re starting to see a pattern here with people abruptly leaving you in a fit of confusion.

Well, nothing you can do about it now, you suppose. So instead you move your focus to the small, thin object enclosed in your hand. Its now-exposed surface gleams under the cafe lights, the reflection obscuring the details. A picture? But what can you do with a—

Wait. Is that… Jing Yuan… winking at the camera…?

Sure enough, under the pressure of your scrutiny as you hold the picture in various angles and heights, the winking face of Jing Yuan stares back at you in mockery. Somehow, this photo feels slightly more personal than the usual ones Tingyun distributes to the masses. Actually, you’re not sure how she even manages to obtain these photos in the first place and, quite frankly, you think it's best you don’t know.

…The hell am I supposed to do with this?

Just as you were wondering what to do with the polaroid, a familiar voice comes from behind — almost as if the small, glossy image clutched between your fingers had the ability to summon him. “If you wanted my photo, all you had to do was ask.”

“Please don’t misunderstand, general,” you deadpan in response, your head swerving to meet his amused gaze before placing the photocard on the counter. “I was given this against my own will.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” he hums, a melodic sound which serves to speed up the palpitations of your heart. It comes to an abrupt slow, however, when you spot the corners of his lips lift into a smug curve, already dreading whatever it is that may leave his lips. “I wonder why I find that hard to believe.”

“That's not my problem.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

…

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He laughs at your groan, eyes crinkling with joy at the dispense of your suffering. Yeah, why suffer when you can make drinks? Besides, you already know he’ll accept whatever it is you make, so there’s no reason to ask for his opinion!

He follows close behind when you venture behind the counter in search of some ingredients, uncaring for the stares he receives from the customers who aren’t regulars. 

When you crouch, you shoot one last accusatory glare at the still-smiling general before disappearing to rifle through cabinets underneath. “For someone in a position such as yours, you sure do have a lot of spare time to be spending it on a humble cafe worker such as myself.”

You’re not sure if he responds, too focused on searching for what you need. After finding the ingredients, you rock back on your heels and stand, the top of your head brushing against something smooth. When you rise, you realise it was the back of Jing Yuan’s hand which you made contact with, as he grips the edge of the counter where your head most definitely would have hit if he hadn’t cushioned the impact.

He merely grins when your eyes travel up the length of his arm to meet his gaze. “Well, what can I say other than you are worth every second of my time.”

…

“Don’t look at me like that, [Name].”

“Like what?” You watch as his smile strains when you repeat his words from earlier, a victorious grin creeping its way onto your lips. “Alright, alright. I’ll make your drink now. It won’t take long.”

True to your words, it doesn’t take long. Within a matter of minutes you’ve prepared a caramel latte. (It was the only thing you could find ingredients for. Perhaps it’s time to go shopping again…)

After securing the lid on the takeaway cup, you hand it over to him. He reaches out, your fingers brushing slightly and—

The silence is unnervingly loud as you both stare blankly at the spilled drink rolling across the counter.

“...I’ll be charging extra for that latte today.”

“Aha…”

You’re no stranger to quiet days in the cafe, and neither are the staff and regulars. After a particular incident way back when, it’s safe to say the establishment has faced many peaceful shifts. Though that’s not to say there hasn’t been any disputes from customers, but they’re usually small, easy to resolve issues that only require a practised smile and a (sometimes threatening) deal before sending them on their merry way.

Today, however, doesn’t seem to be one of those easy days.

“Sir, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” your voice resounds in the quiet cafe, stern and unwavering. The man in question tears his attention away from his phone to glance over his shoulder, his once haughty expression now fallen into a scowl.

“And why’s that?” he asks after telling the other person on the line to wait for a moment. “I’m not being disruptive to anyone.” With the progressively hostile looks he’s been getting since earlier, you beg to differ. Well, even if he clearly is an outworlder unaware of the Xianzhou customs, that doesn’t justify his ignorance.

And you decide to tell him just that.

“Since you seem to be a visitor, let me give you a piece of advice: it would do you well to cease all mentions of seeking immortality when aboard any of the Xianzhou ships, lest you want to make an enemy of yourself to the locals.”

“Oh? And who are you to tell me that?” 

Your eye twitches at his haughty tone. Within a second your signature customer smile is plastered onto your expression, an even tone conveying your next words, “A Xianzhou Native, of course.”

And the next thing you know there’s a seething customer causing a disruption in the middle of the cafe. Though not unexpected, you still held onto a fraying hope that the issue could be resolved somewhat peacefully.

How bothersome.

A light weight plops itself atop the line of your shoulder, shifting slightly with a soft brush against your jaw before coming to a still. With a blink, you and the man share a brief moment of confusion, and you find yourself more stupefied at the finch gazing up at you with a slight tilt of its head.

It looks familiar, but that isn’t much to go off of. Besides, the first person to come to mind already said he would be busy this week, so you highly doubt he’s managed to appear at just the right time like always… right? Right—

“What seems to be the issue here?”

Your answer comes in the form of a tender warmth encasing your back, a beguiling voice resounding from behind, and a familiar scent relaxing your tensed muscles. It doesn’t take a genius to recognise who’s standing behind you, but perhaps it’s because you’re so used to his presence that you can identify him the moment he steps into a room.

“General…” you trail off at his unexpected appearance. Jing Yuan does not meet your gaze, however, instead choosing to remain upright behind you and fixate his focus onto the man who kicked up a fuss, expression hardened into that akin of a general.

The little finch is not deterred by the overwhelming presence Jing Yuan now exudes. Rather, it chirps happily and nudges its head against your jaw once more before making itself comfortable along the slope of your neck. Looking at it a little closer you realise it's the one who sometimes greets you when you and Jing Yuan meet up, finding purchase on your shoulder during a round or two of starchess. A smile makes its way onto your lips when it leans into the touch of your finger.

It would seem the small bird did a great job in distracting you, however, for the next thing you know wind sweeps past you, exclamatory apologies spewed out in haste follow and gradually fade in its wake. There’s a faint chime of the bell and a missing presence in front of you.

Oh, you blink, he ran away.

Jing Yuan turns to you then, expression much softer than it was a few moments prior. “Are you alright?” he asks, his hand gently squeezing your free shoulder.

“Yeah, thank you,” you sigh. Your fingers lift to massage away the built up tension in your temples. “I’m sorry you had to see that on your break.”

There’s a small pause. “You shouldn’t apologise for something like that.”

“Huh…?” It was a mistake to meet his gaze, you belatedly realise, for your breath is ceased by the flame which burns molten gold, your heart caught in your throat amidst a gravitas you haven’t seen for a while.

His lips part, tone gradually changing to something more light-hearted; a stark contrast to his current expression. “You were just doing your job. It was that customer who was in the wrong. Honestly, he should have known better than to talk so flippantly about that topic.”

Well, you can’t refute his words.

“What are you doing here anyway?” You cough in an attempt to divert the topic, only to raise a brow at his unreadable countenance. “I thought you said you would be busy.”

Jing Yuan pauses, as though hesitant, before responding, “I sent you a message to send notice of my visit but you didn’t even leave me on read, so I knew there was something wrong.”

“I didn’t even notice…” Without a moment’s haste, you pull out your phone. There on your home screen displays notification banners: 6 unread messages from my headache <3.

my headache <3: I have some free time, so I will be paying you a visit. Don’t mention this to Qingzu though, she doesn’t know I am taking a break. =w=

my headache <3: Are you busy? You don’t usually leave me on delivered for longer than five minutes.

my headache <3: Did I do something to make you mad?

my headache <3: [Name]?

my headache <3: …

my headache <3: I will be at the cafe soon. Wait for me.

A pang of guilt seeps into your conscience. You hadn’t realised he sent so many messages. Did that customer take up that much of your attention? Also, do you really not leave him on delivered for more than five minutes??

“Oh! You kept the heart I put there?” Your thoughts are promptly cut off by the baritone voice resounding beside your ear. His light breaths puff against your skin as he leans against you, peeking over your shoulder to read the messages he sent.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you huff, eyes trained onto the device to avoid meeting his gaze. “I said you could make any changes you wanted to your contact name and this was what you wanted.”

He stiffens at your words, breath stuttering ever so slightly against your skin but quickly catches himself. There’s no response for a while, instead a wave of calm washes over you as you scroll through your phone with Jing Yuan watching from his place over your shoulder, sometimes recalling a particular memory which comes to mind at certain photos in your camera roll.

It goes on like this for a little while until he shifts, strands of silver brushing against the shell of your ear when he releases a light sigh. You glance over your shoulder only to see him already looking at you, the lines of his features soft and gentle.

“You know,” he starts, voice soft with a twinge of nostalgia seeping through, “I’m your first and longest supporter.”

Well, that certainly came out of the blue.

But he’s not wrong, and perhaps that is why you find yourself huffing out a breathy laugh in response. “What? You want me to praise you?”

“Would you?” he asks, an instantaneous response to your lighthearted jest.

You stare at him, incredulous, but he doesn’t falter. His gaze holds weight, seizing your breath and rendering you speechless. Ah, he really isn’t good for your heart.

“Keep dreaming, general.”

Despite the scoff backing those words, you make no effort to hide your smile. And though you don’t catch it, Jing Yuan makes no effort to hide the adoration glistening in his gaze.

Sidestep to the left. Duck. Step back. Parry. Clang! Step to the right. Pivot. Clack! Raise your arm—!

A sword flies up, twirling mid-air as it plummets back down and digs cleanly into the grass. It gleams under the artificial sun, becoming a focal point in the otherwise barren grounds. You straighten your posture, spear at your side and a bottle of water in hand as you approach the worn-out aspiring Sword Champion.

“You’ve improved, Yanqing.” You smile when he looks up, breathing ragged as he mumbles his thanks before guzzling down the fluids of the water bottle now in his hands. You sit beside him, and it’s not long before a refreshed sigh escapes him, setting the near-empty bottle in his lap.

A lapse of silence. A faint breeze. A wave of heat. A shift of gold.

You sigh upon noticing the boy’s gaze switching between you and your weapon. “What is it?”

“That spear,” he starts, “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“How so?”

“It’s different from the spears the rest of the Cloud Knight’s use and, even though it has a similar aura to the general’s Devastator Glaive, it feels like… it was almost made for you. A weapon that only you can wield.”

For a teen yet to explore the larger part of life, he is frighteningly perceptive. He’s quick to pick up subtle nuances and yet retains that innocent curiosity which enables him to ask questions most adults would not. It’s part of a child’s charm, and you can only hope he will never be robbed of that part of him.

“Made for me, you say?” You cast a glance to your side, vision tunnelling into the fine details which adorns the crafted spear. Despite the many centuries the weapon has braved through, it still appears as though it were only crafted yesterday. Its colours are still vibrant and its exterior holds minimal wear. Your breath hitches when your gaze trails down towards the hilt and hones in on the faintly carved names: yours and the one who gifted this to you.

Your mind numbs. There’s a matching bow which sits in your home, you recall, locked away in a spare room deep within the confinement of your walls. There are other accompaniments, too, surrounding it in decorated, bejewelled boxes filled with handicrafts ranging from everyday trinkets to carefully crafted ornaments carved from the purest of jades.

It sits there, collecting dust all year round. All year round except for one single day — a day when your thoughts surge to new heights and can only be tamed when in that room, cleaning off layers of dust and spiralling into seemingly endless nostalgia. It serves as both a commemoration of the past as well as a reminder for what will never again be.

Immortality truly is a wretched thing.

“[Name]?”

You blink, snapping out of your thoughts. Yanqing, who was sitting beside you mere moments prior, is in front of you with a hand on your shoulder. He probably shook you while you were lost in thought, you surmise. How mortifying…

“Your teacher seems to be slacking off,” you cough, swiftly changing the topic. He doesn’t take note of your awkward transition, but, if he did, he’s done a good job hiding it. “Is he busy?”

“The general?” he repeats in a murmur, chin held between his thumb and forefinger with a contemplative expression. He blinks. “Nope! No clue.”

“I see,” you sweatdrop. Worry begins to pool in the back of your mind, but it is quickly smothered when Yanqing jumps up, bouncing on his heels as he shows off his recovered energy and readiness to spar with you for another round.

You cast one last glance at your spear before standing, following close behind an eager Yanqing as he bounds to the middle of the field with his sword in hand.

(You can still recall him; the young man who gave you these gifts way back when, putting on airs of nonchalance in a poor attempt at masking his bashfulness, the furtive glances, the hand raised to rub the back of his neck, the awkward cough he always did before excusing himself after gifting whatever it was he made that time — all of it is practically ingrained into your mind.

You can still recall him; how could you not when he is the same man who haunts you when in your lonesome.)

--

He’s not here. Again.

You’ve lost count of the number of times your focus darts to the door when a resounding chime of the bell is heard, only to be left with aching disappointment when it turns out to be anyone other than Jing Yuan. His radio silence is concerning, though you suppose any kind of silence from him has that effect considering he always made sure to notify you when he would be busy, therefore unable to visit you due to urgent matters.

Has he been well? Has he been eating regularly? What of his sleeping habits? He’s not overworking himself again, is he? What if he left on an expedition without saying anything?

Your answer appears in the form of Yukong.

“The general?” she repeats, blowing lightly on the freshly brewed coffee before answering you. “While I am not completely in the know, I’ve heard in passing that he has been cooped up in his office. For once.”

It’s practically common knowledge to the Luofu citizens how Jing Yuan tends to be absent from the Seat of Divine Foresight. More often than not, he will appear as a hologram, sometimes choosing to instead give advance notice of his lack of presence. Well, you suppose most have grown accustomed to finding him at the cafe. So for him to now hide away in his office without a word is of course a matter of concern. After all, the last time he did this was years ago, and that was because he didn’t want you to worry about… him.

You pause, fists clenching at your belated realisation. A tinge of frustration begins to creep up, but the concern over his condition is far more prevalent, curling around and constricting your heart as worry clouds your senses. “That guy…”

--

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he comments, voice languid in a valiant attempt to hide the undertone of surprise at your arrival. He quickly recovers with a genial smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your arrival?” 

Admittedly, it would have fooled many others. Unfortunately, you have known him too long to be fooled by such tactics. You’re sure he knows, if the slight waver in his gaze has anything to say about it.

Instead of answering, you choose to remain still in front of the now-shut doors. He doesn’t seem to notice though, as he merely resumes his task in a robotic manner. Except for the two of you, the office is void of the usual stationed knights and his few assistants, making the room feel much larger. It’s daunting.

Your unease does not fade after hearing his voice. No, it only heightens, his sluggish movements and voice laden with exhaustion further spiralling you into a state of distress over his well-being. You watch his slow blinks, head dipping slightly only to snap up to prevent himself from falling into slumber before continuing to sign document after document, replacing each signed sheet with a new one in a never-ending cycle.

It would have been comical if you weren’t aware of the fact he’s been neglecting his health to finish these papers.

Typically, he wouldn’t be having this issue, always having been the type to get his work done ahead of time despite his… less than professional demeanour at times, though it seems the papers have been brought in heavy bulk this time around; that, or they contained pressing matters which couldn’t be put off.

“Take a break,” you finally say, unable to stand the sight of him pushing himself any longer. He doesn’t spare you a glance. If it weren’t for the brief pause in his writing before continuing, you would have thought he didn’t hear you. Teeth digging into your lower lip and eyes narrowing into a glare, you try once more. “I’m serious. Take a break.”

Palpable silence douses the room.

And then he lifts his head, meeting your furrowed gaze. His eyes are anything but bright, a dull glaze coupled with dark eyebags signifying his lack of sleep.

“I have to finish signing these papers,” Jing Yuan sighs out, giving what you assume to be an apologetic glance before lowering his head back down to resume the paperwork.

Unfortunately for him, you won’t allow him to succeed in his attempts.

“And I don’t want you to collapse from overwork again!” He flinches at that, and you know you have managed to convince him when he places his pen down on the table’s surface and relents with a deep sigh. When he finally nods, defeated, the building tension dissipates and you’re able to breathe without worry again.

With cautious steps, you make your way over to the large chair. Having been in this room countless times, it’s easy for you to glide to where Jing Yuan sits despite the darkness which now drapes like a veil over the interior.

When you reach his seat, your eyes harden at the scattered documents, staring at them for a few seconds in hopes it will miraculously burn them, before tearing your gaze away and focusing on your weary friend.

“Let’s get you home,” you mutter. You lean down and prepare to help him stand in case he needs the extra support after having sat for too long. It doesn’t go as planned, however, when he tugs you down beside him and plops his head onto your lap. “Hey—!”

“Just for a moment…” he intercepts, voice heavily laced with sleep. The second you lock eyes, you know it’s all over for you. “Just for a moment, stay here with me.”

And you sigh knowing ‘a moment’ will turn into hours. But you’re fine with that. As long as he gets his rest and can finally let his guard down, you would gladly lend him your lap for days on end.

“Fine.” You shift slightly to provide him more comfort. “Take as long as you need. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He responds in the form of a grateful smile and soft squeeze to your hand. Within a matter of seconds he’s sound asleep, the steady rise and fall of his chest soothing the dull ache in your heart.

Cautiously, you raise your free hand and reach out to his peaceful expression. His hair is silkier than you last remember, easily threading your fingers through the soft strands to brush them away from obscuring his features.

‘Than I last remember’, huh…

Your eyes trail to the hand clutched in his.

Thinking back on it, it has been a while since you last relaxed like this with him. Life tends to be busy, the cafe takes up most of your time, and Jing Yuan has his official duties to take care of. No matter how lax he tries to play it off, you’re aware he has his hands full with governmental affairs and conjuring a multitude of tactics to minimise losses. That’s the kind of person he is — to badger you about the happenings in your life, yet hide away and gloss over his with a genial mask so as to not worry you.

You’ve always hated that part of him. Why can’t you worry for him? Why must it always be he who consoles you but not the other way around? Does he truly not know how his evasive tendencies pain you, intentional or not?

Questions, questions, questions; all these questions and yet there’s never a concrete answer.

Is he… really so oblivious to the way his secrecy is what spurs your distance with him?

Your hand pauses.

Perhaps steadily drawing a line between you is a pointless pursuit in clinging onto the past, a fleeting hope for everything to revert back to the way it was before; to deny the happenings of bygones which paved the way for the present.

Things will never be what they once were. You understand that. You accept that. And, perhaps, that is what makes it hurt all the more.

Four familiar faces emerge from deep within the hidden crevices of your conscience, ones you have not physically seen for a long time — too long, perhaps. And yet they appear just as vivid as before everything went up in flames, endlessly haunting you when you’re left alone with the silence of your own mind. No matter how tightly you shut your eyes in blatant refusal of their presence, nor the strength in which you cover your ears to drown out the remnants of their voices, they never leave you alone. They cling to you, desperate; the same way in which you are to be free of them.

But even so, in spite of the hostility and bitterness and hurt which remains in their wake and binds itself to their legacies, you cannot help but to wish they are doing well, wherever it is they may now be.

And maybe it’s the full moon glaring down at you which spurs this wishful thinking but, on the off-chance they return, perhaps those of you that are left can gather at the cafe after closing hours and chat about anything and everything, exciting and menial, you have come to experience in the time spent apart.

(Just like old times.)

But, of them, only Jing Yuan remains, and maybe that is why he doesn’t manifest alongside them as a result of this aching nostalgia, instead resting peacefully on your thighs with steady, even breaths; the only indication that he truly is here with you.

“We will be okay, Jing Yuan,” you find yourself whispering as you gaze down at him. “We’ve made it this far, and we’ll continue on, braving through our fate.”

The image of him blurs, his colours further contorting the more you try to blink it away. It is then you force your eyes shut, lean down towards him, lightly brush away his fringe and press two fleeting, chaste kisses: one against the skin of his forehead and the other atop the mole under his left eye. “If not for myself, then, for you, I’ll be okay.”

Whether that’s to reassure you or him… you’re not sure.

For as long as you can remember, Jing Yuan has always been with you.

It wasn’t merely a matter of staying by each other’s side during the day; no, it’s more than that. Your relationship runs deep — centuries bordering a millennia worth of memories tucked away in the crevices of your mind — and it would be an understatement to say you know each other like the back of your hand.

Together, the two of you have been through it all, in practically every sense of the word.

--

Despite enlisting into the Cloud Knights, it was far from what you wanted, instead aligning with the demands of your parents. To have that expectation of continuing your family’s tradition, to have that burden of battling for the Xianzhou Luofu’s legacy, to have that constant worry of one day being mara-struck due to your race, to perhaps never be able to do what you want for yourself, shackled to generations of family service… that was the meaning of your existence. Whether you liked it or not.

You eventually gave up, simply accepting your unwanted fate and following the hollowed footsteps carved by your ancestors. That was how you ended up amongst the new recruits for the Cloud Knights and listening to the current general’s speech about glory and honour and pride — all for the Xianzhou Alliance; all for the Xianzhou Luofu; all for the Cloud Knights.

Fate is such a weird thing, you remember thinking to yourself as your gaze swept across many others in the same uniform as you. Because despite you all looking the same, despite you all holding the same make of spear, you knew their passion and dedication to serve the alliance would far outweigh your own.

He was no exception.

Contrary to you, the boy who stood a couple rows in front wanted to be there. It was obvious in the way his eyes glimmered, the way he held himself in an upright posture and focused with rapt attention on the general at the front. Perhaps that was what caught your eye back then — the pure, unadulterated desire rolling off him had rooted you in place and forced your attention to be on him.

With a sigh you averted your gaze. There was only one thought which resonated within you in that brief moment: you would never grow close to that boy.

For, unlike you, he was made to shine under the glow of the artificial sun, while you were a passionless bystander relinquished of your fate.

--

It wasn’t long before you made a name for yourself amongst the new recruits of the Cloud Knights. It stemmed from a training session-turned-competition. One which you came out on top.

A natural prodigy is what they called you.

A lucky fluke is what they whispered behind your back.

Looking back, you’re not sure why you tried so hard. Did you think you would have it easy if you won? If anything, it probably made your future that much more troublesome with weighty expectations and watchful eyes from those around you.

Well, there went your quiet life.

At least it couldn’t be as suffocating as it would be back at home. The most you would receive are jealous glances from your weaker peers, or urges from your trainers to try a bit harder. But what reason was there to try when the outcome never changed?

“Why are you here?”

“Huh?” When you looked up, hands still gripped tight around the length of your training spear, your unimpressed eyes met pools of gold. They widened upon contact.

“Wait— that’s not what I—!” he had cut himself off with a sigh, pink dusting his cheeks. He quickly regathered himself and faced you once more. “I mean, why are you here when you clearly don’t want to be? I watched your matches earlier, but there was no light in your eyes… Kind of like now.”

Was that the expression you had? You would never know. What you did know was that the boy was persistent. Evading the topic would not work on him and, quite frankly, you were tired.

“I’m only here because of my parents,” you began. Your fists clenched and your eyes hardened as you lowered your gaze to the grass. “I hate my fate. I have no say in what I can or can’t do in my own life. That’s all there is to it.”

There was a moment of silence after your sombre words. Maybe now he would leave you alone and be on his way. Just like it should be. Someone like him who shines above the rest has no business with you, whose passion was extinguished before it could manifest.

“That’s not true.” Your gaze snapped up, words of protest ready to be let loose only for that burst of anger to dissipate the second you locked eyes. “You can escape your fate.”

“Hah! What nonsense are you—”

“Because that’s what I did.” You blinked once, twice. Your disbelief must have been obvious by the way he flushed slightly, the crimson tinge spanned from the tips of his ears to the apples of his cheeks. “I mean, my ‘fate’ was originally supposed to be a scholar or some kind of official in the Realm-Keeping Commission and follow my family’s footsteps, but look where I am now. I’m nowhere near that.” 

It was strange. He was not supposed to be someone similar to you. He was supposed to be someone you could only gaze at from afar. He burned brightly; you did not.

And yet, through his next words, you discovered that you, too, were capable of dreaming and hoping, the light suddenly appearing in what you deemed to be an abyssal darkness.

“I’m now a Cloud Knight, and I believe that you can also change your fate!”

A sense of camaraderie formed between you and the golden boy that day, an odd, tingling warmth coiled around your heart. Though an unfamiliar feeling, you found you didn’t hate it.

--

“Master asked about you today.”

“Tell her my answer is still no.”

“You don’t even know what she asked about!”

“Don’t need to.”

A sigh came from your left at your instant retorts, but that didn’t bother you. The sun was still up and you were set on soaking up as much of it as you could before Jing Yuan had to leave for his training.

It had been a couple years since you first met now, and you somehow became an inseparable pair; where one of you would be spotted, the other wouldn’t be far behind if not already there.

Well, most of the time, at least.

When Jing Yuan had caught the attention of the Sword Champion, Jingliu, he was offered a place in her team. He accepted, of course, and ever since then he began training under her guidance. As a result, those were the only times you were actively separated.

But by extension, you were somehow roped into her interest.

“So this is where you were.” You grimaced at the familiar tone, turning away as Jing Yuan scrambled beside you.

“Master…!”

“You go on ahead, Jing Yuan. There’s something I need to discuss with [Name].”

Although you hadn’t raised your head, the hesitation in Jing Yuan’s movements were clear. The silence stretched on for a long few seconds before he sighed, “I’ll meet you after I finish, [Name].”

And then he was gone, only you and the Sword Champion remained under the tree’s shade. Blades of grass swayed under the faint breeze, but that, too, came to a standstill within seconds.

“I noticed you didn’t take the oath earlier,” Jingliu said, the silence broken.

A humourless laugh escaped your lips. “I didn’t realise the Sword Champion was keeping such a close eye on me.”

“You’re hiding your talent.” You fell silent at her abrupt statement. Your fingers twitched when she continued. “I know you’re capable of more than you let on.”

What do you know? You thought to yourself as your fingers dug into the grass. You know nothing about me, so stop acting like it.

You never understood why she was so persistent. Was it because of how close you and Jing Yuan were? Had your parents somehow managed to contact and persuade her? What did she even gain from chasing after you when it was clearly a waste of her time? Why…

“Why… why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because he worries for you.” Your body stilled at her words. You stayed silent for a moment before responding, albeit weaker than your previous tone.

“I’m fine. There’s no reason to worry about me.”

“…[Name]—”

“It’s probably best if you go. Jing Yuan’s waiting for you.” She faltered at your words, ultimately conceding.

A sigh escaped you when you noticed her fall back and prepare to head to their usual training spot. She lingered however, and cast a glance over her shoulder to regard you once more.

“You should visit our training sometime,” Jingliu uttered, her usual stern expression a touch softer than what you were used to. “It would be nice to train together, and you can spend more time with Jing Yuan. I hope you can at least consider it.” And then you could only watch as she walked away, the hues of the sunset steadily engulfing her form.

Back then you had scoffed at her words, unaware of the bond you would come to form with the members of the High-Cloud Quintet as a result of your wretched curiosity.

--

“Someone became mara-struck on the expedition.”

“What…?” A soft gasp came from your left. “Is that why only you…”

“Yeah,” you hummed. You had no courage to face your friend next to you, choosing to instead stare listlessly at your quivering hands. “It happened so quickly. One moment we were discussing tactics, the next we heard screaming. It was agonising. And then, in the blink of an eye…” you gulped, drawing in a harsh breath as your hands clenched into fists, “I killed her. I had to. I… I was the only one left from the team and she kept coming after me and I realised then I truly didn’t want to die and—!”

Your words came to an abrupt halt, smothered by an all-too familiar warmth. The beat of his heart against your ear calmed your erratic breaths, allowing you to regain some semblance of composure. Even when you could no longer hear the rapid pounding of your heart ringing through your ears you remained slumped against his chest, the fatigue weighing down your muscles.

“Jing Yuan,” you called in a hoarse tone, “am I a monster now?”

“You’re not,” came his immediate response. You couldn’t find it in you to believe him.

“But I killed someone, Jing Yuan! We were comrades in arms and I took her life!”

“The situation was out of your control and it was the only thing you could do. It was for your survival and to stop her from suffering any longer. You’re not a monster, [Name].” His voice was steady like a pillar of support, a calm sound that could make you believe all the prior happenings were a mere nightmare you’d just awoken from. His arms around you tightened and pushed you further into his familiarity. “You never could be. Never to me.”

That day was the first time you had ever cried so hard to the point you passed out, the exhaustion having finally caught up. That day you were left unaware of the tears Jing Yuan held back as he bore witness to your rare vulnerability, vision blurring and heart aching as he internally vowed to stay by your side — until he no longer physically could.

--

As you both grew older within this endless spiral of longevity, you could only watch as he became something more than a mere soldier of the Cloud Knights — as he began to be someone out of your reach and unfamiliar against a golden glow too radiant for you to perceive.

It wasn’t long after that you left the Cloud Knights for a placement in a newly opened cafe, having had enough of a life out of your control and dictated by others. You had stayed with the Cloud Knights long enough and you finally found the courage to leave after your numerous contributions.

And while your family may not have been pleased with your decision, Jing Yuan had been supportive, taking it upon himself to visit you when he could despite his limited free time in-between training and expeditions. The other four of the High-Cloud Quintet would tag along as well, sometimes relaying entertaining stories to embarrass the others or to simply catch up with you during your time apart as you readily prepared food and drinks for the six of you to enjoy.

It felt like a dream to still be able to laugh with them.

Unfortunately, all dreams must come to an end. It was a notion that was so glaringly obvious, and yet it never truly occurred to you; not when their visits gradually became less frequent. Not when you began to notice the tension between a couple of your friends. Not when a familiar cold lingered during the moments where all was silent and you were alone.

It was through those moments you foolishly clung to the fraying hope that everything would turn out okay — that all the budding tension would smooth itself out, allowing for you to all converse like it never happened and to move past the hurdle.

Perhaps it was because you had deluded yourself into believing everything would be okay that, the moment your fantasy shattered before your very eyes, it hit you in a way far more torturous than death could ever hope to be.

It hit you in the form of Jing Yuan returning to you on that fateful day in his lonesome, eyes hollow and empty, body battered and bruised; your heart which beat for him shattered when he slumped against you, your world crashing in pursuit. The after-effects of the sobs wracking his battle-worn being reverberated through your slack form, a seemingly endless stream of tears stung the skin along the crook of your neck as he released his unfiltered anguish within your trembling embrace.

You found there was no need to ask how the confrontation with Jingliu went, for his desperate grip and hitched breaths spoke louder than his voice ever could.

At that moment, you believed there was nothing more painful than the sound of his broken cries — your mind, body and soul yearning to take his pain and make it your own at the sheer despair in his eyes as he seeked your comfort. In that moment, you had never felt so powerless, so utterly weak and useless when all you could do in the face of his agony was lend him your familiarity in the confines of the closed cafe.

Even now, seven hundred years later, you still do not believe there to be anything more painful.

During your quiet moments, you’ve always wondered what it would be like to experience some of the scenes penned in countless novels you’ve read. Would they be just as heart-throbbing as the authors depict them to be? Or would they fall flat and lacklustre when put into a real-world scenario?

What about the stories you’ve overheard during your shifts, or the tales the regulars recounted during the slow days? Would they ever happen to you as well? You’ve always wondered about these things, however…

Just what is this situation?? Isn’t it a bit too similar to that one scene in a novel you recently read? Well, it’s not as if you’re hiding away in the middle of an apocalypse, but the setting of an empty cafe after dark where it is just the two of you still remains the same.

Jing Yuan stands before you, his imposing silhouette prominent against the fragmented brushes of moonlight, pools of molten gold stark against the night’s backdrop. He remains still in the face of your racing thoughts.

The pelting rain (courtesy of the alliance’s artificial weather) drowns your thoughts. In all honesty, you can’t recall how you came to be in this situation. One moment you were closing up the cafe, the next a sudden downpour arrived alongside a drenched general. In your haste to bring him inside, you didn’t stop to think about why he was in the rain in the first place, the only objective in your mind being to dry him as soon as possible.

And so that’s what you did. Only, in your attempt to persuade the man to share an umbrella and walk back home, you were pulled back into him, the umbrella rolling helplessly across the floor as he rooted you in place by the presence of his hands on your shoulders.

Which leads you to your current predicament now.

“What is it?” you ask upon noticing his silence. There is hesitation in his silence. It prolongs in the way a void is endless, stretching on for miles upon miles with no end in sight. There’s a flicker of light in the form of his voice as he brings himself to speak, his words firm yet lacking that usual self-assured intonation he always has.

“Am I someone close to you? No, do you consider me as someone close to you?”

“What nonsense are you…” your words die out when you fail to see his usual air of playfulness, a grave countenance piercing you in its stead. “Of course I consider you as someone close to me. I wouldn’t have spent centuries upon centuries by your side otherwise.” He doesn’t seem to take your light jest well, if his darkening expression has anything to say about it.

“Then why are you still formal with me, even when in private and away from prying eyes?”

“Because you’re one of the Seven Arbiter-Generals, while I am a cafe employee. In a realistic perspective, we are not the same and I’m aware of our boundaries. In fact,” you mumble, meeting his conflicted gaze with a blank one, “I should be the one asking you if I’m someone close to you.”

It’s silent for a brief moment, up until a whispered murmur of “And just who is the one speaking nonsense now?” shatters it.

Your patience, too, shatters alongside it.

“Then what else am I supposed to think when you’re always keeping things from me? You’re always asking about what I’ve done in the day and prying into the details of my life, but what about you? Whenever I ask how things are, or if there’s anything troubling you, you just brush it off like it’s nothing and avoid answering altogether! Am I not allowed to worry about you? Am I not someone who can lend you a shoulder?

You always blabbered about sharing each other’s pain, to not keep our hardships to ourselves, but take a look at yourself first. ‘Am I someone close to you?’ ‘Do you consider me as someone close to you?’ You have no right to ask me those questions when it’s you who's been the one keeping their distance this whole time. What…” A shuddering breath escapes you, your mouth running dry amidst your high emotions. There’s a dull pain which spreads through your bottom lip, your teeth digging into the soft flesh just as your nails do in your palms. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you can only hope it's enough to prevent the well of tears building behind your lids. “What else am I supposed to do if you refuse to let me in?”

You’re tired, you come to realise. Tired of his avoidance and tired of his secrecy. Even if you don’t have the energy to voice your other built-up sentiments, you have an inkling he already knows — whether or not he wants to admit it… well, that’s a problem for him, not for you.

The sigh you release is heavy; heavy with emotion and fatigue.

Your gaze drifts to the window behind the silent man. Despite the ripples in the puddles, the previous downpour has begun to let up, now only a faint pitter patter is all that remains. Seeing how Jing Yuan has made no effort to move or speak, you decide it would be best to leave as soon as possible. After all, there is no fight left in you, only a frail shell hollowed by your insecurities.

When you try to move, however, his grip tightens. You’re pulled closer than you were just a moment ago and his fingers dig into the fabric of your clothing — as though he were desperate to keep you in his sights. Your protests die before they can even arise, for the way his eyes glimmer despite there being no light renders you immobile.

“Do you really not see?” His voice comes in the form of a broken whisper, and you try to suppress the suffocating ache in your heart when he gazes at you as though he witnessed you pluck the stars and hand it to him.

“See what?” you scoff, a weak sound that pales against the hammering of your pulse. “All I see is a coward running away from his problems.”

A cold silence. A trembling grip. A shuddering breath.

“You’re right. I am a coward.” You’re taken aback by his ready agreement, though you’re unable to dwell on it for long when his voice gradually begins to rise, his emotions spilling over in pursuit. “I run from problems I cannot handle. I avoid anything that can be deemed as troublesome. I fear that if I burden you with my pain — with my hardships — you will grow tired of me and leave. You’re already so far away, you’ve always been so far from my reach, and yet…” A strained gulp follows his dying words. “And yet if even your fading silhouette is something I can no longer see, then I don’t know what I will do with myself.”

There’s a plethora of things you want to say, but none can be articulated. No matter how much you try and force the words out, nothing is uttered. Just as you think the words will string together, he laughs, humourless and empty.

“You’re right. I have no right to ask you when I’m the one pushing you away — when I’m the one causing this rift between us. But what else must I do to stay by your side, if not this? Where else can I reach you, if not shadowed by your light? You’re the last person I want to lose, [Name], so please,” his voice trembles ever so slightly, a detail that would go unheard if it were not for the fact it is just the two of you, a desolate silence, and frail streaks of moonlight, “don’t go to some place I can’t find you.” 

His chest heaves in tandem with his shuddering breaths, the only sound which punctures the still air. You’re not sure which is louder: that, or the white noise ringing amidst your senses. There is no room for thought, however, as you barely take note of your lips parting and the words which leave them.

“You… make me feel like a fool the longer I stay with you.” Your words are not loud, nor are they particularly harsh. But with the current atmosphere being so tense, you may as well have shouted them from the bottom of your heart with the way the echo ricochets within the empty cafe.

Even if your words are not loud, the silence most definitely is; deafeningly so.

After your… confession, for a lack of better words, belatedly registers in your conscience, you have half a mind to slap yourself silly. After all, who in their right mind responds to such an emotional, heartfelt barrage with… that.

You, it would seem.

(A petty part of you deems it fine considering the inner turmoil he’s put you through for Aeons knows how long.)

“Do you want to know something?” he asks, leaving you with no time to linger on your life choices. “When I’m with you, I feel like a fool as well.” Your surprise must have been obvious as he chuckles lightly with a gaze never straying from you. There’s a subtle shift in the atmosphere, one which lightens your heart without dismissing the emotions woven into the space between you. Before you can even think up a response, he continues. “Even if I rehearse what I plan to say to you, it rarely comes out the way I want. Sometimes the words don’t even come out at all. It’s always been this way, even before we became acquainted with each other.”

You blink at his words, stupefied. “You mean back when we were first enlisted into the Cloud Knights?” His sheepish chuckle is answer enough. “Wait— you mean— since all the way back then— huh??”

“Yeah,” he responds, voice light and teeming with unbridled affection, “since the moment I saw you in the welcome ceremony.”

????? Since then?! All you can remember is not wanting anything to do with him back then! To think you never noticed anything until he said it now, though technically it’s not entirely your fault since he never explicitly said anything… right?

Yeah, no it’s both your faults.

“I’m sorry to not have noticed anything till now,” you sigh, your head drooping. “Is there anything I can do to make up for it?”

(Jing Yuan just barely manages to control himself from kissing you senseless right then and there. Who gave you the right to be so adorable?? Not him, but you won’t catch him complaining.)

“Anything, you say?” he asks after a cough or two. Your eyes narrow at his behaviour before shrugging it off.

“Well, within reason…” you trail off at his pointed look, your mouth instantly shutting at his expression akin to — dare you say — puppy-dog eyes. It’s oddly cute, though you’ve always found his sleepy, cat-like demeanour to be the most endearing and heart-melting of all. (Not that you would ever admit this to him, of course. Well, not when he’s awake, at least.) And so, unsurprisingly, you relent. “Okay. Anything.”

“Then don’t be formal and act distant in public. Just call me ‘Jing Yuan’ familiarly like you used to.”

You blink once, twice. “...That’s it?”

“Well,” he drawls, “considering how you only addressed me as ‘General’ or ‘General Jing Yuan’, which was admittedly closer to my preference, despite being one of the few who were well aware I never wanted to be a general in the first place, I believe it’s the least you can do to show your sincerity.”

You scoff. “You sure know how to hold a grudge, foolish Jing Yuan.”

And he laughs, a breathy melody which sets your heart ablaze. Then you feel his fingers thread through yours, the faint callouses brushing against the back of your hand a testament to his battle prowess.

His lashes flutter shut as your hand is brought up towards his lips. Just as the plush of his lips grazes against your palm, his head dips, instead planting a soft kiss along the pulse point of your inner wrist. There’s a huff of laughter against your warmed skin, and you’re positive it’s because he found amusement in the way your pulse surged and stuttered under his lips.

Smug bastard.

His lashes flutter once more when they open into a half-lidded gaze, your wrist growing ticklish as his lips begin to move against your skin as he murmurs out, “I suppose that makes two of us, my foolish [Name].” When he turns to stare at you completely, his expression is nothing short of soft — eyes filled to the brim and overflowing with tender adoration doused in liquid gold and a warm, gentle curve of a smile that has you clammed up and breathless.

“Yeah,” you mumble after regaining some semblance of composure, unable to stop the smile which blooms on your lips, “I suppose it does.”

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

[mwolf0epsilon]

Welp! I found a new Henry related detail to despair over!

I was having a look through some behind the scenes stuff and model series episode galleries to get a clearer picture of the designs and scales of certain engines, when a trip through the gallery of 'The Sad Story of Henry' gave me some pause...

I was looking at the original model series rendition because it has some of the best surly looking expressions for Henry (accentuated by the obviously aggravated steam clouds), when I noticed that the two CGI remakes of this particular event were right under the originals.

I didn't really give this much thought until I recognized one of the images as also being in the firemen listings (which I'd been perusing previously to get a vague idea of what Sidney Hever looked like, so that I could draw him with a mode distinct design rather than all Drivers and Firemen looking the same like in the shows).

According to the wiki this is Ted, Henry's fireman. He was the one tying a rope to Henry so that people could attempt to pull him out of the tunnel.

And at first I thought: "Oh that's cool! It seems that in terms of crew, while Thomas interacts more with his driver (Bob), and Edward with both his driver and fireman (Charlie Sand and Sidney Hever), it looks like Henry's fireman is the one who interacts with him most (which makes sense, he gets more characterization than Henry's driver and is even the one to realize what Henry's actual issue is and even pleads with the Fat Controller to get special coal to make things easier on him)."

Just a cool neat little detail right? Right? Here's where I realized something was off about this scene:

@british-hero offered to look at this one scene with me so we could have a closer look... Which is when we both realized Ted looks... A little uncomfortable. He looks like he's smiling at a glance, but it's tight and clearly not a happy smile.

And then when he's done tying the rope...

It's a blink and you'll miss it thing, but he's clearly not in agreement with this plan. He doesn't give a thumbs up to signal they're ready to go, or even call out that they can start pulling. Ted looks apprehensive about forcing Henry out of the tunnel...

That's the face of a man who knows doing this will just make Henry double-down on his decision to stay put, but no one is listening to him.

And this is just the recreation in 'The Adventure Begins'. There is yet another recreation of these events, this time retold by Henry himself... And surely enough Ted features in it again. But the way he appears left Rogue and I gutted...

Right at the right, at the very edge of the bloom effect, you can see Ted standing there looking concerned as he watches the workmen wall in Henry...

He's not helping them at all. He's stock still looking at Henry. Which is followed then by this:

HE CLIMBED OVER THE WALL TO COMFORT HENRY, OH MY GOD... He is literally refusing to take part in walling him in. He's just there to comfort his engine...

Again, I remind you, this is Henry telling the tale instead of Edward. Henry vividly remembers this happening. He remembers his fireman being there for him. And if that wasn't a gut punch already, when the scene begins to fade Ted looks down sadly...

I am unwell...

[gallusrostromegalus]

Okay but given that crows are ready to Throw Down with eagles at the slightest opportunity, I have to know- 1) are there crows in the Seireitei and 2) how much of their Daily Enrichment is causing problems for the 11th Division on purpose?

There absolutely are crows and jays and even ravens in the Seireitei and very nearly all of their daily enrichment is causing some level of mayhem at every division of the Gotei-13,

...except the 11th.

See, Zaraki has the distinct advantage over most eagles in that he is also a human, with a canny eye for social dynamics, and he's worked out a deal with the local corvids. He noticed the pair of ravens on the roof of the 11th the first afternoon he was there, made a note of them, carefully folded it up, and put it in his mental back pocket for later.

The ravens didn't actually notice him that much on the first day because there was an entire bisected corpse of the former Kenpachi and the medics were delayed in retrieving it for some reason so that meant lungs and liver and a spleen and gallbladder and a special course of freshly exposed brains before an eyeball each for dessert while some poor wretch from the 4th completely failed to chase them off with a broom. They did very much notice him in the middle of the afternoon on the second day, when he returned from the early morning captain's meeting they had slept through, on account of yesterday's food coma. -But even still sluggish with guts full of guts, they still sat up and took notice of a man wearing, loud, shiny and extremely steal-able BELLS.

A-ho, A-ho! Called the first raven from the middle boughs of the pine in the courtyard as the new Kenpachi sat down on the porch that surrounded the small and rather pathetic little garden, sighing deeply. What's this that jingle-jangles in like a jester and sighs and settles like a corpse at the bottom of a lake?

A great way for your mate to lose her beak if she gets any closer. He growled back, and the raven on the roof behind him startled, flapping away out of his blade's reach.

A-joke! A-joke! Don't hiss and rattle so! She huffed, joining her wife on the pine and ruffling her feathers.

It might be amusing sport on another day, but I have no humor to speak of. He clattered, turning his patch-covered eye to them in apology. I have suffered a bereavement.

A-no! A-no! Who is it who has died? Asked the first raven.

One who granted me the knowledge of letters, and further so, the wisdom of tales- in telling, and moreso in listening. Thrice blessed by her I was, and only now do I learn of her demise, fifty years too late. He explained, rubbing his temples and shaking his head, trying to soothe himself.

A-woe! A-woe! cooed the second raven in agreement. Any who teaches is a living saint, and their passing the most terrible loss.

A-woe, A-woe! the first raven cooed in sympathy. She didn't leave clutch or wife for you to look after?

She had a husband, but I do not know his name, and he is apparently deceased as well. The Kenpachi frowned. Her brother yet lives- he is my colleague even, and how I learned of this. A wretched way to meet someone she spoke so highly of- but you are right, he needs looking after. He is... unwell, and was never thriving to begin with, but the same sort of saint of words as she, and much braver than his body should allow. Of course, I will look after him for her, as is right.

A-woe, A-woe- A wretched meeting but the right and honorable thing to do. Nodded the second raven.

A-woe, A-woe, but this is not the source of your miserable sighing? asked the first. No, his care does not worry me- The Kenpachi shook his head, folding a leg up and resting his elbow on it and his cheek on his hand in turn. It's that I am left to wonder- If I had known sooner, or even before this catastrophe, if there was something I might have done. But you are interesting company so I will divert myself from useless morose- what do you call yourselves, carrion queens that live beneath my roof?

I am Mun-Yin! Declared the second raven, that spoke only in statements.

If she is Mun-Yin, might I then be Hau-Yin? Asked the first, who spoke only in questions.

You might. The Kenpachi nodded.

A-so? A-so? Who might you be that wears the shredded rags of a dead man like a pauper, but speaks with the grace of a prince? Hau-Yin asked, hopping from the pine to a closer boulder, cocking her head at him.

A-ho! A-ho! It may be your house that supports our nest, but we live above your roof, not under it! Mun-Yin laughed, hopping closer as well.

I am Zaraki Kenpachi, Captain of the 11th division! He smirked at the birds who rolled their eyes at him.

A-no! A-no! Pouted Mun-Yin We didn't ask for your NAME!

A-no! A-no! Sulked Hau-Yin Who ARE you?

The Kenpachi regarded them for a moment, then lifted his head from his hand and leaned forward, a conspiratorial grin on his face. Would you like to know a secret?

A-yo! A-yo! We love a secret! Said Mun-Yin, bouncing in excitement.

A-yo! A-yo! Do we not spend all day learning all the secrets of the city? Giggled Hau-Yin.

Then I will offer you a trade- The Kenpachi grinned, beckoning then closer. -I'll tell you who I am if you promise to leave my hair-bells alone.

Hmmm... the ravens considered, then shook their heads.

A-low, A-low, those are some very shiny jingle-jangle bells, and that's but one measly little secret. frowned Mun-Yin

A-low, A-low- Agreed Hau-Yin. That's not much of a trade is it?

On the contrary, it's a very good secret! Maybe the best secret in all of the Seireitei! The Kenpachi wagged his finger at them. Nobody knows it but me and my daughter, so it's very exclusive! And the risk is all on my end- some secrets are dangerous to know, but in this case, it would grant you great advantage- it would be DEEPLY embarrassing for me if any of the humans -and whatever Komamura is- were to find out.

Hmmm... the birds considered again, and nodded this time.

A-Quo! A-Quo! Very Exclusive and Deeply Embarrassing Secrets are The Best! We will take very good trade! Agreed Mun-Yin

A-Show! A-Show! Who are you, that we will leave your bells alone? asked Hau-Yin, hopping closer and bowing her head, looking up at him with a mischievously glittering eye.

I am Zaraki Kenpachi, Captain of The Eleventh Division, Father of Yachiru, Great Sword Bastard of the North 80th District, and most relevant to you- Youngest and Most Beloved Son of She Who Rules The Sky.

The ravens stared blankly at him for a moment.

What that fuck? Asked Hau-Yin.

Didn't realize we were speaking to ROYALTY. Muttered Mun-Yin

See? It's a VERY good secret! The Prince Kenpachi grinned, leaning back and lounging a bit- someone like him could make even a bare wooden porch look like a throne. -Also, you see how you DO SO live under my roof! He added, pointing up at the clouds.

The ravens shuffled a bit nervously, reconsidering him.

A-so? A-so? Hau-Yin asked, cautiously, shuffling a sideways to him.-How does Your Highness come to be a Shinigami then?

A-so! A-so! nodded Mun-Yin. Your Highness and We alike are strange enough birds for taking Names, but to take a JOB is unheard of!

It has it's benefits... The Prince Kenpachi shrugged. Alas, I may be Her Majesty's Son, but I did not inherit my mother's wings and guts, so I cannot live on the wind and whatever I might find by the roadside alone. Still- like a Name, a Job both restricts and offers opportunity- I am bound by duty, but I also am gifted a dry and sturdy nest and all the meat I may eat in exchange. And better still- My daughter now has her choice of tutors and scholars to learn greater Wisdom than I ever will.

A-sow! A-sow! Mun-Yin considered. You do reap well in that exchange!

A-though, A-though- considered Hau-Yin. Would you have the chance to reap in such fashion had you the wings of your mother? Are you perhaps Blessed in strange Human fashion?

The Prince Kenpachi laughed. Perhaps I am! Perhaps you may be even more blessed than I- you have wings and carrion-guts, but you are not bereft! I can offer you similar employment, if you should find it agreeable.

A-ho! A-ho! You are in a fine humor now, My Prince! Chirped Mun-Yin.

A-ho! A-ho! What is this Job you have in mind for the like of us? Asked Hau-Yin, intrigued.

I am in much better humor now, thanks to you both. The Prince agreed, offering Hau-Yin an outstretched hand and patting his knee to indicate Mun-Yin should join him too. There is naught you may do against death, but you may yet ease my bereavement- I am am saddened by the loss of my friend, but it's the lateness of the news that worries me. You say you spend all day learning the secrets of the Seireitei, and that you greatly desire Shiny Jingle-jangle bells?

A-so! A-so! Mun-Yin bobbed excitedly, hopping onto The Prince's hand. All over, all over from the high pillars of the execution grounds to the lowest grates where the sewers open up, we fly all over all over My Wife and I! And we see and we hear and we remember all the secrets of the city!

A-stow? A-Stow? You poses yet more shiny shiny bells? Hau-Yin clicked with interest, hopping onto his knee.

I happen to have two such golden bells, even bigger and louder than these, and will happily give them to you- with a Doll's shiny ribbon so you may wear them if you so desire- and other shiny and noisy things as I find them, if you tell to me all the secrets of the Seireitei.

Hmmm... the ravens considered.

A-yo, A-yo- It is a good deal. Nodded Mun-Yin. -But sometimes the winter is cold or the pickings are lean, and there is only so much comfort a shiny jingle-jangle brings when it is so.

A-yo, A-yo- Agreed Hau-Yin. Maybe sometimes a secret is worth a night out of the storm or a scrap of meat instead?

You are both very wise. The Prince Kenpachi nodded and the ravens preened with the praise. I am amenable- The ribbon-bells for all the secrets you know right now, and we can work out what payment is best in the future, when you discover more secrets for me?

A-Yo! A-Yo! crowed Mun-Yin, flapping with excitement. Your Highness is as generous as he is wise!

More, I hope! Laughed The Prince Kenpachi. I promise, I am a colossal fool!

A-Yo! A-Yo! crowed Hau-Yin What secrets would you like to know first? And may I have a Pink Ribbon?

I would like to know all you know about- hm, that's a tricky question actually.- There are so many things I wish to know! He considered, rubbing his chin, then jumped to his feet, making them hop, an Ancient Bird Game. Let me go get your ribbon-bells first, and make up my mind!

A-ho! A-ho! the Ravens laughed, hopping down the hall after him.

---

"Hey Boss, I found the payroll forms but fuck me if I can make heads or tails of- what's wrong?" Ikkaku called out as he came into the courtyard half an hour later, only to find Yumichika standing in the doorway, frowning pensively with his hand over his mouth.

"I'm not sure anything is wrong, per se-" Sighed Yumichika, waving at the scene before him.

Zaraki was seated on one of the boulders in the courtyard, delicately fastening one of Yachiru's shiny pink hair ribbons around the neck of an exceptionally smug-looking raven in an elaborate bow with a large golden bell in the middle. A similarly adorned Raven perched upon his shoulder, chattering excitedly between fondly preening where his eyepatch parted his hair.

"-but I can't help but think I've seen this scene before..." Yumichika muttered.

"They look like they're all having fun?" Ikkaku shrugged as Zaraki finished the bow and the raven ruffled her feathers into place, making it jangle and Yachiru giggle and applaud from where she sat on her father's knee. The Newly-belled raven hopped around to croak and click at him as well, flapping excitedly, and he put a hand up to stop her, asking her something in the shrill hiss and click of his native Aquiline tongue.

"You ever get the impression The Boss is way more articulate in Eagle than he is in Japanese?" Ikkaku frowned.

"Darling, he learned his Japanese from Bandits and Buskers and in Brothels, his Eagle has GOT to be better than that." Yumichika rolled his eyes.

"-ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Zaraki suddenly bellowed, shaking his finger at the raven in his lap.

Both ravens cawed in objection.

"-THIS IS NOT UP FOR NEGOTIATION! SO LONG AS YOU TWO LIVE UNDER MY ROOF, YOU LEAVE KANAME AND HIS EYEBALLS ALONE." he growled.

The Raven on his shoulder tipped her head, speculating.

"-He is TOO using them, they're there to keep his eye sockets and brain from getting infected with gods-know-what flesh-eating bacteria or whatever. NO. PECKING."

Both Ravens hunched up their wings and turned away, pouting.

"What's-His-Ass in the Fifth? The faintly greasy one that looks like a sad mop? His glasses are fair game, if it will amuse you." Zaraki relented, and both birds perked up. "-Might be worth a bag of potato chips if you can bring me a pair intact." he offered.

"Oh Gods, he's not gonna make me try to add a pair of BIRDS to the payroll, is he?" Whimpered Ikkaku.

[jakegasm]

again.  | jake sully 

genre: angst ♧ (sorry but i’m a whore for angst) 

pairing: jake sully x omatikaya!reader (mentions of neytiri) 

word count: 2.5k

warnings: a few swear words(maybe), betrayal (if you want to count that as a warning), and just pure heartbreak 

brief info: you are the younger sister of neytiri, always living in her shadow. your parents glorifying the things she accomplished, leaving you in the dust. until a certain dream walker comes along making you feel like you were living a dream, but sadly all dreams do not come true. 

notes: i’ve been obsessed with sad songs and I thought why not start off with some broken hearts. enjoy! :) 

part 2!

Maite: my daughter

Laughter. 

That’s all you heard as you found yourself lost in your thoughts again, your heart sinking deeper and deeper into your stomach as you watched them. The way they laughed with one another, the way their hands landed on top of the other's thigh when one said something funny, or the way he looked in awe as she laughed. Your stomach twisted at the sight. 

“Maite, you are quiet.” your head snapped towards the sound of your mother, Mo’at, blinking back into reality, scanning your parents' hut as you all ate dinner together your eyes stopping briefly on him. “Yes, you have been very quiet since we started dinner.” your older sister, Neytiri, interjected sharing the same concerned look as your mother. 

“I am fine.” you said softly making sure you shot your mother a sad but convincing smile before dropping your head down towards your hands that rested in your lap, your fingers suddenly becoming very interesting. “I am just not hungry tonight.” you added on as your head still hung low, swallowing hard as a familiar lump started to form in your throat. 

“You did not eat this morning either, child. Are you feeling unwell?” Yes. Yes, you were. Your heart was feeling unwell. You had to sit with your family watching as the man who saved you from the shadows of your sister…fall in love with her and not you. It was never you. As much as you were used to it, you still couldn’t get over the fire that started in your chest or the way you could feel your heart break little by little any time he was around. 

“No. No mother I am fine.” you cleared your throat to cover up the quiver that shook your voice a little as you spoke. Blinking rapidly you tried your best to get rid of the tears that threatened to spill. “Mother? May I be excused?” the quiver in your voice much clearer than before, causing your mothers’ interest to rise in your sudden sadness. “Yes, you may.” you wasted no time rising to your feet, slightly bowing toward your mother and the couple across from you. “Thank you for dinner mother. I will see you in the morning.” you rushed out before darting your way out of your mothers’ hut just quick enough before she noticed the tears that had formed in your eyes. 

Tears blurred your vision, yet you still tried to blink them away as much as possible. Carefully you hopped from one tree branch to the other, safely climbing down to the one place you truly felt like you belonged. The tree of voices. 

The purple hue illuminated brightly as you walked through, hands brushing against the vines as you made your way to your usual spot. Slowly you sat down, closing your eyes you took a deep breath taking note of the crispy air that surrounded you. You felt it. The silence consumed you and you felt something in you finally break, sending the tears that had threatened to spill finally overflowing onto your face. Your body slightly shook as you sobbed, your mind racing with the images of your sister and the man you were in love with. Their smiles at each other, the small exchanges they’d give each other their eyes filled with adoration, it was all too much. Too much to bear. 

“Oh great mother, please.” you sharply took in a breath as you spoke, “Please stop this pain. I do not wish to be in pain anymore.” you cried out, you clamped your hand down on your mouth to prevent the loud sobs that started to leak past your lips, hoping to drown out how loud you actually were. What did you do in your life to be caused so much heartache? Was Eywa punishing you? Haven’t you been punished enough? You lived in your sister's shadow, always being pushed to the back as your sister was praised for all her accomplishments. You understood though. Your sister has always been the golden child. She had the beauty, the brains, the empathy, all of the things to be a perfect daughter. And you? Oh, you were just her younger sister, training to be a tsahik like their mother. Though that was never praised upon when it came to you. You were never in the eye of praise. 

Crunching leaves quickly broke you out of your fits of sobs, snapping your head towards the sound. Your breathing struggled to steady as you carefully observed the area of the noise, eyes moving frantically until they stopped on a tall figure approaching closer. The figure became clearer as they stepped into the purple hue of the tree causing that sickening feeling in your stomach to return. “You okay?” he spoke to you, his voice soft and concerned. You said nothing, turning your attention toward the small stream that rushed in front of you. With a grunt, he sat down next to you his attention was also on the stream, neither of you spoke. The quietness surrounding you turned awkward, scrunching his eyebrows he searched for something to talk about. 

“Why are you here?” your voice broke out, sounding so dry yet filled with so much emotion. He opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it as he realized he didn’t know why. “Did my sister send you?” again your voice spoke, only this time he noticed the hint of sadness that lingered on every word. Shaking his head, he let out a soft sigh, “No. No she didn’t. I came here all on my own.” he pushed out finally turning his head towards you only to find you already looking at him. Your eyes are slightly puffy with the evidence of dried-up tears on your face, they looked at him full of sadness. Full of pain. Though a small smile broke out on your face snapping him away from your eyes. “My hero. Coming to save the day once again.” you joked turning your eyes away from him once more leaving him to stare at the side of your face, watching as he saw your face fall once more. Your ears pointed downwards pressing against your head, your tail swatting softly among the grass underneath you both. Knees brought up to your chest, you rested your chin upon your knees. 

He watched you. Closely this time. The cool night air blew gently, blowing your hair away from your face, leaving the two braids that resided on the side of your face untouched. He found himself admiring the way your hair looked as the wind blew, your hair cascading down your arms hanging loosely with a few braids thrown here and there decorated with colorful beads. He always noticed how your hair was rarely braided, your reasoning being that your mother was too rough and Neytiri always took too long so you always opted out of the braiding process. Watching attentively he noticed one of your braids had fallen into your face, before allowing you to realize the fallen hair he quickly found himself reaching a hand out, gently pushing and locking the braid behind your drooped ear. The sudden gesture shocked you, your eyes widened snapping to his expecting the same reaction you held, though you were met with different ones. 

His eyes were soft, just as soft as the smile he wore on his lips his teeth just barely showing. “You know…your hair is really beautiful.” your heart picked up its pace, your eyes desperately searching his waiting for him to admit he was joking, though it never came. You couldn’t form any words to say back, only his were rapidly repeated through your mind. 

Beautiful. 

Though it was a small gesture it still made your heart flutter, but as quickly it fluttered it turned into a sharp pain as you remembered him and your sister. You shook your head as if you were trying to shake his recent words out of your mind. You looked towards the sky this time, watching the stars as they glistened and twinkled so tenderly. 

“You shouldn’t say that to someone who is not your mate.” Your statement confused him, furrowing his eyebrows he looked off to the side. Did he say something wrong? He didn’t think he did. Your voice brought him out of his thoughts and back to you, though you were still looking up toward the sky. 

“You must return home. My sister must be worried about you.” 

“She’s a big girl. She’ll be fine…You know…” he started waiting for your eyes to land on his, and when they did he continued. “You never answered my question.” Though you thought the sudden hitch in your breathing wasn’t that loud, he heard it. He heard how shaky it was as you inhaled and exhaled, controlling the familiar feeling of tightness in your chest.

“I am fine.” Your answer irritated him a bit. You were lying and he knew it. You bit your lip to stop it from quivering and showing him that you were about to crumble all over again by the small question. 

“The truth. I want to know how you’re really feeling.” He pushed, his body now turned fully towards you. His hand came to rest gently atop your shoulder,  you felt like your body had been engulfed in flames when he touched you, you even contemplated throwing yourself into the stream to cool off. Instead, you shrugged off his hand standing. 

“I told you. I am fine.” He shook his head not believing you. Not even a little bit. 

“Nah, someone who is “fine” doesn’t cry the way you just were a few moments ago.” 

You were caught and you knew it. He knew he caught you in your lie as well, noticing how you bit onto your lip harder, your hands balled up at your sides. Your face contorted, and that's when he saw it clear as day. He saw the way gravity drove down your shoulders painting a picture of your heart as if neither it nor your soul would welcome a beat. He saw it in your eyes that your brain has built some new walls with you so lonely on the other side. Wondering if you'll give him a chance to help you take them down brick by brick. 

“That is none of your concern.” Your voice spoke harshly, though he knew you were trying to prevent yourself from crying again. He stood along with you his body towering over your smaller one he approached you cautiously, something he had learned to do in fear of getting hit like the many times he had been by Neytiri. His hands were out in front of him reaching to rest a comforting hand on you once again until you jerked away from him. 

“Hey, hey I mean no harm. I just want to know what’s wrong.” He defended himself by throwing his hands in a surrender position. 

“You! You are what is wrong Jake Sully!” You snapped. And like before, he was confused. You were upset because of him? His mind raced with all the possible reasons why you were upset with him. Was it because he was taking your sister away from you? Yeah. Yeah, that had to be the reason. 

Clearing his throat he spoke, “Okay…Okay, I get it. This is about my relationship with your sister.” You felt like time had stopped. He knew?  He knew and he let you suffer for so long? The sadness that once rested within you quickly turned into anger, your breathing picking up. 

“I know. I get it. And I'm sorry about the way things are going but-”

“You knew?”

“Yes. I–I mean no. No, I just realized it now. I haven’t always known this and please listen to me when I say that I, deeply and greatly do apologize for any pain that I have caused you. And that I can understand why you are so upset with me.”

Sorry? He was sorry? He watched you suffer every day and yet did nothing to help mend your heart. Yes, this was very selfish of you to think but you didn’t care.

“You. Are not sorry. If you were, you would have helped me. Helped me to understand this heartbreak and how I could get over this—this stupid feeling.” You spoke, your accent leaking through certain words. 

“You do not care for me like I thought you did. Your heart is strong yet it is ill. So ill.” 

What in the world were you going on about? He thought. He thought this was about Neytiri and him. He brought his gaze to the ground searching it hoping an answer would be written into the glowing grass where they stood. 

And then it hit him. Hard. His eyes widened at the realization, his mouth a gape, quickly looking into yours that had welled up with thick tears. You were breaking, your knees threatening to give out beneath you. 

“No…No, no that can’t be.” Was all he could manage to get out of his mouth, his mind now racing rapidly. It was now all making sense. Your early dismissal from the dinners he shared with your family, the sad look in your eyes whenever he caught you looking at him, avoiding your sister when asked to tag along on an outing only to turn down the offer when his name was mentioned. It all made sense now. 

Your heart was breaking by the second. This was a moment you’ve always wanted to happen, though it wasn’t going how you hoped and imagined. There were no hugs filled with so much warmth, no kisses that were shared, and no feelings that were reciprocated. All you were met with was a blank stare and eyes that pitied you, he was trying to figure out how to let you down gently, you thought. 

You weren’t about to stand here and wait for that though. You were hurting enough. 

You rushed past him, your feet moving quickly enough to get away from him. You didn’t make it far though. His hand gripped your arm firmly but not hard enough to hurt you, he waited for your eyes but they never came. 

“I can’t do this to your sister.” His voice came out as much as a whisper. You chewed on your lip, your lip probably raw by now with how much you gnawed on it tonight. “I know. That is why I am not asking anything of you.” You swallowed down a sob that dared to escape your lips. 

“You are not mine, Jake. You never will be. I understand that.” Peering ever so slightly over your shoulder you gave him the best smile you could muster up, “Besides, Eywa makes no mistakes.” his grip loosened slightly hearing that his own ears now drooping flushing against his head. You slipped your arm out of his hold continuing your original route daring not to look back, finally letting the tears that threatened to escape go. It was settled. He will never be yours nor you his. 

Your sister won. 

Again. 

_______________________________________

WOO, that was a doozy. It hurt but like I said im a whore for this kind of stuff lol, so its a good hurt. I hope you all enjoyed and hurt just as much as I did! Much love !

angel <3

[pxnsneverland]

Ruthless Grace | Austin Butler x OC (part 1)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

plot summary: Amidst the grime and squalor of Victorian England's winding cobblestone alleys, a young woman's life hangs precariously in the balance. Violet, a poor peasant girl with long raven locks and piercing gray eyes, possesses a haunting beauty that belies the harsh realities of her existence. Tragedy struck two years prior when Violet's mother succumbed to illness, leaving her to fend for herself and her father – a cruel, selfish man consumed by vices of alcohol and gambling. On one fateful night, Violet's father drags her unwillingly to that very den of iniquity, and there she learns a horrifying truth from the club's greedy, perverted owner: to repay his mounting gambling debts, her father has sold her into sexual servitude. Violet's vehement protests fall on deaf ears, until an unlikely savior emerges from the shadows. Lord Austin Butler intervenes with a bargain of his own. This dangerous man offers to pay off Violet's father's debts in exchange for her accompaniment, and Violet is torn from the only life she has known. While Austin's demeanor remains shrouded in mystery and detachment at first, Violet gradually glimpses his softer, even playful side as time passes within the manor's walls and an unexpected connection blossoms between the unlikely pair.

pairings: austin butler x oc

word count: 3,025

warnings/notes: I decided to post another Austin fic I've been playing with for a little while. This is a set up chapter for the story and hopefully you guys enjoy it. The romance will begin soon :)

Chapter 1: Anchors and Aspirations

The icy wind bit through Violet's thin shawl as she maneuvered through the bustling market square, her gray eyes flitting from stall to stall. With the stealth of a seasoned thief, she slipped a hand into a basket, withdrawing a bruised apple before anyone noticed. At her heart, there was no love for thievery, but survival in the grim alleys of Victorian England left little room for scruples. As she tucked the stolen fruit into the folds of her dress, a shadow loomed over her. Her heart caught in her throat. She turned slowly, only to see Mr. Clarence Johnson, a local shopkeeper known for his scrupulous eye and unforgiving nature.

“Miss Everly,” he said, his tone surprisingly soft, his gaze not on the stolen apple but on her face. “You look more worn than usual. Are you unwell?”

Violet tensed. Clarence Johnson was an uncommon figure in their decrepit part of town; his presence alone suggested he was either lost or up to something far beyond her understanding.

“I am just fine, sir,” Violet replied, her voice steady despite the fluttering of her heart. “Just tending to some errands for my father.”

“Aye,” he nodded slowly, his bushy eyebrows knitting together in concern.

“But you needn’t resort to pilfering for your sustenance,” he continued, glancing at where the apple had disappeared into her dress. “There are other ways, Miss Everly, ways that do not risk your slender neck at the gallows.”

Violet stiffened, her hand instinctively clutching the fabric over the apple. The threat of the law was always a ghost that haunted her every step in these streets. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Johnson, but I assure you, I manage as best I can.”

Clarence surveyed her with those discerning eyes that missed little. “Your father,” he began, his voice dropping to a softer timbre, “he does little to provide, am I right?”

The accusation stung because it was true, yet Violet felt a surge of defiance. “He is my father still,” she said coldly, daring him with her gaze to speak ill of the man despite his failures.

Clarence sighed digging into one of his pockets and pulling out a few coins. He handed it to Violet. “Go buy the apple, girl. It would be a shame to see you hang for a fruit.” A trace of regret flitted across his features. “Miss Everly, I—” He paused, seeming to choose his next words with care. “I find myself in need of a reliable assistant at my shop. Someone keen and observant. Your... talents could be put to better use than thievery.”

Violet's heart pounded fiercely against her ribcage at the offer. Employment from Mr. Clarence Johnson was an unexpected lifeline, a beacon in her relentless sea of struggles. Yet, mistrust curled inside her like a dormant snake. Why would a man of his standing offer her, a known petty thief, an opportunity?

"I appreciate your offer, Mr. Johnson," Violet started cautiously, her voice a low murmur as she glanced around the bustling market to ensure no eavesdroppers lurked nearby. "But why would you trust someone like me in your establishment? You know very well my... activities."

Clarence's eyes softened, hinting at a depth that Violet hadn't noticed before. “Everyone deserves a chance at redemption, Miss Everly. I’ve watched you, not just today but many times. You’re quick, smart, and despite your current... enterprise,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly, “you have morals. You steal only what you need and no more.”

He was right—Violet never took more than necessary to survive. Her actions were driven by desperation, not greed. The acknowledgment of that fact from Clarence Johnson stirred something akin to hope within her chest.

"Consider it," he urged gently as he started to turn away, leaving the coins in her palm.

Violet watched Clarence's retreating figure, the coins heavy in her hand like the sudden possibility they represented. In a world that had offered little but hard edges and cold shoulders, the warmth of an unexpected offer ignited a flicker of daring in her spirit. She could almost taste the promise of stability, a stark contrast to the bitter tang of pilfered fruit and the relentless ache of uncertainty. Still, Violet knew better than to leap without looking. Her life had taught her the sharp lessons of betrayal and disappointment too well. As she moved away from the market square, her mind raced with both the perils and prospects of Clarence Johnson's proposal. Could she truly step into the light of legitimate work without the shadows of her past pulling her back? And more pressingly, what did Clarence see in her that others didn't? Was it pity, a calculated gamble, or perhaps something more personal?

As she wandered through the alleys, her route took her instinctively towards home—a term used loosely for the cramped, dingy room she shared with her father. The door creaked ominously as she pushed it open, revealing Edward Everly slumped over a table littered with empty bottles. The stench of stale liquor and despair hung thick in the air. Violet's entrance went unnoticed by her father, his consciousness lost to the depths of another drunken stupor. She stood there a moment, her gaze hardening as she took in the sight of his decrepit form. This was the life she was born into, one suffocated by poverty and neglect, a stark reminder of what awaited her if nothing changed.

With a soft sigh, she stepped over the threshold, her boots echoing softly on the bare wooden floor. The coins still clenched in her hand felt like both a promise and a burden. She walked past her father, careful not to disturb his fitful slumber, and seated herself on the small, worn-out chair near the cold fireplace. Here in the dim light of their one-room abode, Violet allowed herself a moment to think. Mr. Clarence Johnson’s offer was tempting—an escape from this life of constant desperation. Yet doubt gnawed at her; trust was a luxury she could scarcely afford. Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden groan from across the room. Edward Everly stirred, his eyelids fluttering open only to squint at his surroundings in befuddled drunkenness.

"Violet?" he slurred, his voice soaked with alcohol and confusion.

"Yes, Father," she replied quietly, steadying her voice to hide the tumult inside.

"What are you doing, sitting there like a lost soul? No food again?" His voice was rough, accusatory, as he tried to focus his bleary eyes on her.

Violet's hand tightened around the coins, the metal biting into her palm. She considered telling him about the job offer, about the possibility of change, but the words died on her lips. Her father's unpredictable temper and his disdain for any sign of ambition or hope outside his own distorted view discouraged any such revelations. Instead, she rose to her feet, smoothing the front of her dress with a practiced motion. "I'll get us something to eat," she said, her tone neutral. "Rest now. You need it."

Edward grunted in response, collapsing back onto the table with a weary thud. Violet turned away, feeling the weight of responsibility press down on her once more. As she stepped out into the waning light of day, the coins still in her grasp represented more than mere currency; they were a test of her courage and resolve.

The streets outside whispered with the voices of dusk—traders packing up their stalls, children playing before they were called in for supper, men heading towards the pubs for their evening respite. Violet moved through them like a shadow, unnoticed yet sharply attentive. She made her way to the tiny store at the corner of the street, its windows dimly lit and shelves sparsely stocked. Mrs. Bauble, the elderly proprietor, looked up from her knitting as Violet entered, her eyes narrowing slightly with suspicion and then softening as she recognized the young woman.

"Back again, Violet?" Mrs. Bauble asked, setting aside her knitting. Her voice was raspy yet carried a warmth that was often absent in their bleak surroundings.

"Yes, Mrs. Bauble," Violet replied, approaching the counter with the coins still tight in her grip. "A loaf of bread and whatever meat you can spare for this."

Mrs. Bauble eyed the coins and then Violet, a knowing look crossing her features. "Trouble or fortune, my dear? Those coins look heavy with one or the other."

Violet offered a small, weary smile. "Perhaps a bit of both," she confessed softly.

The old woman nodded as if she understood all too well the dual nature of sudden opportunities. She turned to gather the requested items, wrapping them carefully before handing them over to Violet. "Be cautious, child. Fortune's favor is a fickle friend," she advised, her wrinkled hand briefly squeezing Violet's.

Violet nodded, feeling the weight of the old woman's words sink into her heart. "I will, thank you, Mrs. Bauble," she murmured, taking the small parcel with a sense of gratitude mixed with trepidation. As she left the store, the cool evening air brushed against her face, whispering possibilities that both exhilarated and terrified her. The walk back home was a quiet one, filled with the sounds of her own footsteps echoing off the cobblestones and the distant laughter of children not yet called to their suppers. Violet's mind spun with thoughts of Mr. Clarence Johnson’s proposal. It was a chance to step away from the shadowy margins of survival into something resembling a normal life. But at what cost? Could she really leave behind the streets that had taught her everything about resilience and distrust just as easily?

The uncertainty churned inside her as she approached the door of her humble abode once more. Violet paused, hand on the latch, feeling the divide between her current life and the one that might await her with Clarence Johnson. She could almost hear her mother’s voice, soft and encouraging, urging her to take a chance for a better future. Yet, the haunting memories of past betrayals loomed large, making her hesitate. Resolutely, Violet pushed open the door, stepping back into the shadowed confines of the room she shared with her father. Edward Everly was now snoring loudly, lost in an alcoholic haze that seemed to provide him the only peace he knew. Violet set down the small parcel of food on the shaky table and took a moment to look at him. Despite everything, he was still her father, and a pang of compassion tempered her longstanding resentment.

Quietly she unpacked the bread and meat, setting aside a portion for herself before preparing a smaller plate for Edward when he would inevitably awaken. Her actions were mechanical, performed with little thought as her mind wrestled with larger concerns. She knew that accepting Clarence’s offer would mean more than just changing jobs; it would mean stepping into an unknown world, risking exposure and vulnerability in ways she hadn't before.

Later, as darkness enveloped the room and the flickering candle cast long shadows across the peeling walls, Violet sat with her thoughts, tracing the outline of the bread with her fingers. The sense of impending change weighed heavily on her. It wasn't just the prospect of leaving behind the familiar, suffocating squalor that gnawed at her; it was also stepping into a realm so vastly different from anything she had known. What if she was unprepared for the challenges? What if she failed?

As these doubts swirled in her mind, Edward stirred from his stupor, his movements sluggish as he adjusted to the dim light. He squinted at the plate set before him and then up at Violet, a rare flicker of confusion crossing his usually indifferent gaze.

"Did you fetch this, Violet?" he mumbled, his voice hoarse.

"Yes," she replied quietly, watching him closely.

He took a piece of meat and chewed slowly. For a moment, there was silence between them—a silence filled with unspoken words and stifled dreams.

"Why do you stay?" Edward's question came unexpectedly. His eyes, clearer now, fixed on her with an intensity that made her flinch slightly.

Violet paused, her breath catching in her throat. It was not like Edward to show interest in her choices or her life. The question hung in the air, heavy and laden with implications that Violet had long avoided. She searched for an answer that could appease both her father and her own restless heart. "I stay because this is my home," she replied quietly, her eyes not meeting his. "And because you are here."

Edward snorted, a bitter laugh escaping him as he looked around the decrepit room that barely served as a shelter. "This? This is no home, Violet. It's a prison. You're young still. You shouldn't be shackled by my failures."

His words, so starkly honest, struck Violet with unexpected force. It was rare for Edward to acknowledge his own shortcomings so openly or to express concern for her well-being. This glimpse of the man he might once have been—before grief and vice had reshaped him into the figure he now presented—left her momentarily speechless.

"You could leave, find a better life. Isn't there anyone...?" His voice trailed off, his question unfinished but clear.

Violet’s heart pounded in her chest as she considered her father's words. They echoed the very thoughts that haunted her nightly dreams—the possibility of a life beyond these walls, a chance at happiness that seemed so tantalizing yet so remote. But the thought of leaving her father in this state, as wretched as it was, tugged at her conscience. "There might be," she admitted softly, allowing herself to think of Clarence Johnson once more. His offer had been genuine, filled with promises of respect and a new beginning. Yet, the weight of her current reality shackled her ambitions.

"But I fear what leaving would mean for you," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper.

Edward scoffed, looking away from her piercing gaze. "Don't make an anchor out of me, Violet. I'm already drowning." His voice was gruff, edged with the harsh self-awareness that alcohol sometimes brought to his lips.

Violet swallowed hard, feeling the sting of tears she refused to shed. Her father’s usual indifference made his moments of clarity all the more painful for their rarity and raw honesty.

"I need to think on it," she finally said, standing up and moving towards the small window that overlooked the dim alleyway below. There, she pressed her forehead against the cool glass, trying to draw strength from the night itself. The tangled streets of London sprawled out before her—so familiar and yet suddenly brimming with the promise of escape. Her heart fluttered at the thought, a wild bird caged by years of oppression and fear.

Inside, Edward shifted uneasily in his chair, watching her silhouette framed against the weak moonlight that dribbled through the grimy window. For a moment, he seemed about to speak again, perhaps to retract his harsh truths or to further encourage her departure. But no words came; instead, he sank back into his chair with a heavy sigh that spoke volumes of his resignation to life's cruel turns.

Violet remained at the window long after her father's breathing evened out into the rhythm of sleep. Her thoughts were tumultuous waves crashing against the shore of her resolve. Clarence’s proposal was not merely an employment offer; it was an invitation to step into a world where she could perhaps wash away the stains of her past and emerge reborn. It promised safety, respectability, and above all, an identity unchained from the degradation that had colored her life. Yet, her father’s words haunted her: "Don’t make an anchor out of me." Could she really leave him here, adrift in the haze of his vices, or was it her duty to stay and prevent him from sinking deeper into despair? The weight of decision seemed insurmountable, anchoring her to this moment of indecision.

Violet pressed her cheek against the cool pane, the glass fogging slightly with each exhaled breath. Outside, the labyrinthine alleys of London whispered secrets of escape and adventure, but also murmured warnings of betrayal and hardship. Each whisper tugged at her soul, a symphony of opportunity and fear mingling in the night air. Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft noise behind her. Turning slightly, she saw Edward shifting again in his chair, his face etched with lines of discomfort and regret. For a fleeting second, she saw not the man who had failed her but rather the father who had once held dreams and aspirations beyond the confines of their dreary existence. The weight of his words echoed in her mind, a haunting reminder of their shared struggles and the unspoken bond that tied them together.

Drawing in a deep breath, Violet stepped away from the window. The cool air had not offered solace nor had it stiffened her resolve. If anything, it had only deepened her turmoil. Walking over to the flickering candle, she snuffed it out with a quick pinch, plunging the room into darkness. She navigated through the black with practiced ease, her every step whispering against the wooden floor. Reaching her modest bedding in the corner, she lay down without changing, drawing the thin blanket up to her chin. The darkness was not just a physical veil but also a metaphor for the uncertainty that clouded her future. As she lay there, her mind continued to race, replaying her earlier conversation with her father, weighing each word, each pause.

As sleep eventually claimed her in its restless embrace, Violet dreamt of vast oceans and endless horizons—a world away from the cramped confines of their decrepit home. In her dreams, the ocean was a deep blue, not the murky grey of London's foggy mornings. She stood on the deck of a ship, the wind tugging at her hair and billowing her threadbare dress like a sail. This was a freedom she had never known, unshackled from the burdens of her father's failures and the oppressive weight of their squalid existence.

Stay tuned for part 2!! Click HERE to view!

[trippinsorrows]

hi, all. ❤️

thank you for the kind, sweet messages. a lot of ya'll are truly some kind people. ❤️

what happened, however was unkind and uncalled for. i am always willing to have an open conversation regarding anything i post that someone doesn't agree with. that's not what this person was looking for. not when they open their message with, "it's so funny to me how you and others who claim to be fans of roman and the bloodline, mainly roman, criticize and scrutinize the hell out of that man more than anyone else....", slide in my inbox on anon with the same mess when i block them, and create several, additional fake accounts to continue to harass me.

to clear things up, this person was using asks on sunday, before jey lost the title and we were upset about it, and somehow created this narrative that i was attacking/spreading lies about roman because jey lost??? the receipts are all on my blog to show that timeline and narrative was false. if you've been following me long enough, you know i do nothing of the sort, especially with that man. lmao just wanted to clear that up in case someone somehow believed that narrative.

i value keeping my page a safe, fun space where we can chit chat and have fun. and i will continue to do that. i have blocked/reciprocated a block (you don't get to see my page either, lovebug 🥰) and unfollowed certain people to maintain that safe space, because someone's unwell, unmedicated, unhinged, unloved, unoriginal, unwanted accidental procreation is not going to steal my peace. this person needs some serious help for wild ass, DID like behavior, and i hope they get it considering they told me they're "going through a lot" but harassing people over a man they don't know.....okay.

anyway, i just wanted to clear that up, because i log in and see yet another hateful ask. i'm not addressing this shit anymore. moving on from here, and the minute i see some sub post, messy, shady, or questionable shit, i'm unfollowing and keeping it pushing. kind vibes over here only.

love ya'll ❤️

[artificialbreezy]

I am actually so unwell rn that I'm abt to ask you for more Matt piss kink content on main all the shame in my body evaporated w that last post abt it 💀

ya know? i am SO glad you asked. this has been bubbling all day.

cw: piss, cum, Matt (he needs his own warning)

it was a lazy day, a no pants, fairy lights, kinda lazy day. so, you were in his lap, legs spread, his hand on your thigh. you were halfway through yet another lord of the rings directors cut. you start to wiggle, trying to get up. when his arms tighten around you.

“no, where are you going?” eyebrows scrunched up, eyes still on the film.

“Matty, i gotta pee. i’ll be back i promise.” you whispered.

he laughs a little, “in a minute.”

soon that minute turns into 10, then 15. it’s getting a little harder to hold in. “Matty, gotta go. please.”

his hands move up to settle on your lower stomach, pushing softly. “Matt! i’m gonna pee on you, if you don’t stop.”

“no you aren’t. you’re gonna sit here, and hold it until i let you go.” he spoke way more seriously than he did earlier.

squirming around, confused why your center ached. “i really need to go!”

“oh, you really need to go?” he mocked your panic tone.

you can feel his smirk against your ear, growing wider each time he feels you squirm down against him. “i’m gonna pump you full of my cum, then i’ll let you go, okay?”

nodding at the man behind you. his hands gripping your hips, lifting you up just enough he can pull his cock out, and push himself into you.

you don't even have to beg for him to be quick, he's nearly there. with you squirming on his lap, and clenching down, and you're just letting him control your body this way. makes him fucking crazy. he groans into your ear, “you’re clenching real hard baby. scared of letting it go? too embarrassed?”

you don’t have to answer, he knows. he knows you’re trying with everything inside of you to hold out for him. to wait for him to fill you up. he feels your body start to relax a little bit. “hold it. almost done baby.” he groans, biting down on your shoulder.

you feel so full.

[inkmonster21]

Hearts Across the Divide

14.) Awakening

Noa x Fem!Human!Reader

Series Masterlist

~oOo~

As consciousness begins to slowly rise within you, you find yourself awakening from a state of dazed confusion. The world appears hazy, your vision blurry, and a throbbing pain pulses through your head, making it difficult to fully gather your bearings.

The spinning sensation continued, the world still a blur, your thoughts jumbled and disoriented. It was clear that your head had taken a beating, leaving you feeling dazed and unwell.

You try to sit up, but you find your own body working against you. Your strength seems to have abandoned you. Each movement dizzies you further as if the world itself were in a constant state of rotation.

“Whoa. Slow down.” A voice, calm and steady, cut through the chaos in your mind. The sound of it is grounding, a gentle reminder to restrain your movements, as the speaker guides you to remain still.

As you're helped back down, your vision begins to gradually clear. The blurry figures before you take on more defined forms, their features becoming less hazy. Two hands firmly yet gently guide you back to a lying position, easing you back onto what you surmise must be a bed or cot of some sort.

As your senses slowly recalibrate, you realize that you are inside a tent, resting on a cot. The sunlight streaming in through the tent flap offers a clue to the time of day outside. Bewilderment fills your mind as questions start to surface. "Where am I?” Your memory remains elusive, leaving you uncertain of even the most basic details about yourself.

Your attempts to recall your identity are met with a void, an emptiness where memories should reside. Frustration tinges on your thoughts, the realization that you have no recollection of who you once were. It is as if a wall had been erected between you and your past, denying you access to the knowledge that lies just out of reach.

As your thoughts wander, another voice cuts in, its origin unknown to you. The words spoken are a mixture of observation and sympathy. "You took a pretty hard fall," the voice notes, referring to the accident or injury that likely led you to this state of amnesia.

“Oh.” The response is simple. Just a soft sound of acknowledgment, the only reply you can muster in your current state of confusion. The weight of your lost identity hangs heavily on your mind, making coherent conversation challenging.

The quiver in your voice betrayed your emotions, the fear and confusion evident in the words you spoke. "I... I don't remember," you repeated the vulnerability in your tone clear. The realization of your amnesia struck a deep chord within you, leaving you feeling utterly lost and bewildered.

As you turn to look at the male figure before you, you can't help but wonder if there was familiarity in his presence. Though your memory failed you, a nagging feeling tugged at the back of your mind, suggesting that you might have known him at some point. The question of who the man was and what he meant to you plagued your thoughts.

The question slipped out before you could fully restrain it, born from the confusion and the need for answers. "Who are you?" you repeated, your gaze fixed on the male before you, waiting for a response that might provide some clarity to this puzzle of identity.

The man, understanding the weight behind your question, offered a warm smile, his eyes meeting yours. With a hint of reassurance, he gently reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder. "Jack," he replied, his voice filled with a mix of kindness and understanding.

You coil at his hand. Jack’s understanding nature shines through as he notices your unease at the gesture. In response, he lowers his hand, offering a reassuring smile. "That's alright," he assures you, his words meant to comfort and ease any concerns you may have. "We can take it slow."

Just as your attention is drawn back to Jack, the drone of voices filters in from outside the tent. The sound of talking grabs your attention, the hushed conversations and murmurs reaching through the canvas walls.

Listening closely, you can discern the sounds of life continuing outside the shelter of the tent. There's the subtle clinking of tools, the soft rustling of leaves or brush, and occasionally the faint voices of others who seem to be going about their tasks. The hum of activity outside adds to the sense of community and life beyond these walls.

As your gaze turns back to Jack, your curiosity compels you to ask a question that weighs on your mind. "Do… I live here?" you venture, your voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty.

Jack considers your question for a moment, before responding, "Yes, you live here." His answer is direct and simple, confirming that this place is indeed your home.

Though Jack's words of reassurance are sincere at this moment, the deeper truth remains concealed. The revelation that these answers are merely part of a performance designed to deceive you tugs at the edges of your consciousness. The underlying manipulation intended for the benefit of the greater plan remains unknown to you, shrouded in secrecy.

With a reassuring smile, Jack rises from his seat, preparing to leave your side. "Just lay there," he instructs, gesturing for you to remain resting in your current position. "I'm going to go talk to the captain." His words suggest an intention to seek guidance or discuss matters with whatever authority figure exists in this community.

As Jack approaches the ape, their interaction takes a turn. Jack shares the news, "She is awake." To which the ape responds with a satisfied tone, "She doesn't remember a thing." The confirmation that your memory has been affected gives the ape a sense of satisfaction.

The reaction of the ape is one of smug satisfaction. A sinister smirk spreads across his face, reflecting the twisted sense of entertainment he finds in your predicament. The thought of Noa's journey being rendered pointless as you don't even recall him seems to give the ape a perverse pleasure.

With a self-assured laugh, the ape issues the command, "Bring her. I must meet this human." His tone leaves no room for argument, as he asserts his authority in the situation. Anticipation seems to fill his gaze, as he prepares to come face-to-face with you.

As Jack re-enters the tent, he finds you engaged in exploring the books and maps that had been left around. Your eyes scan over the materials, your hands flipping through the pages curiously.

Your reading is interrupted by Jack's voice, his simple statement registering in your mind. "He'd like to see you,” he says, piquing your intrigue. "Oh, okay," you respond, the words slipping out almost instinctively as you set aside the book you had been examining.

As your nerves begin to tighten with anticipation, you find yourself bewildered by the feeling. After all, if this truly is your home, why would you be apprehensive about meeting someone here? The contradictory nature of your emotions adds to the growing sense of confusion and disorientation.

As you follow Jack out of the tent, your eyes are instantly drawn to the sight before you. The compound reveals a mixed community, a unique blend of humans and apes coexisting within the same space. You can't help but widen your eyes in surprise, taking in the unexpected sight. The mixture of species, both human and ape, working together and living in unison is a shock to your senses.

Your attention is drawn by a booming voice echoing through the air, followed by a loud laugh. You scan the area until your gaze lands on a large ape with a dark expression, gesturing toward you. He exclaims, "There she is!" The volume and weight of his presence send a shudder through you, intensifying the building anxiety you've been feeling.

The large ape rises from his makeshift throne, his large frame uncurling from the chair-like structure. He appears to hold a position of authority within this community, his actions commanding attention amongst the others gathered there.

The ape's voice carries a subtle hint of sarcasm mixed with a touch of humor. His question, "Wonderful day, yes?" comes across as rhetorical, given the obvious chaotic nature of the compound surroundings. There's a certain irony in his tone, suggesting that despite the clear chaos around them, he finds the day to be, in his twisted way, enjoyable.

Your response is a simple admission of your own confusion, "I don't know." The words are muttered without much thought, the truth of your uncertainty laid bare in that single phrase.

The ape asks a question, his tone is neutral but curious. "You fell. Do you not remember?" The words hang in the air, a reminder of your recent accident and the resulting amnesia. As you shake your head in response, the movement causes a pang of pain to shoot through your scalp. You wince slightly, your hand reaching instinctively for the bandage that still adorns your head. There's no recollection of how you came to be injured, yet the very presence of the bandage serves as a stark reminder that something has indeed taken place. The ape's words seem to hold some truth, given your physical condition.

The combination of confusion, anxiety, and frustration bubbles over as your emotions take hold. Your voice trembles as you respond, "I can't remember anything." The words slip out, laced with a sense of despair. Unbidden, tears begin to slide down your cheeks, silently tracking their way down your face.

With a feigned reassuring gesture, the ape nods slightly before standing and moving closer to you. He produces a handkerchief, extending it towards you. "It will be okay... you are home" The phrase is spoken with a veneer of reassurance, but even in your current state, you can sense the falseness behind it. Despite the comforting words, the feeling of being out of place - of not truly being "home" - resonates within your confused mind.

The ape's demeanor shifts, a transition from false reassurance to a more authoritative tone. "Now, let us eat." The words carry a sense of command, a directive that leaves little room for doubt. It's clear that an expectation is being set for you, a directive to join in the meal that lies before you.

The other humans and apes in the compound begin to gather, a sense of anticipation filling the air as they start to settle in for the meal. Conversations die down, giving way to moments of quiet. You notice how people move about the space, and how they interact with each other, noting the subtle glances and expressions that are thrown your way.

Jack, the helpful figure you've come to know, places a plate in front of you, offering you a share of the meal. The plate is balanced with various foods, a mix of fruits, nuts, and some meat. He gives a small nod, encouraging you to eat.

The leader, the large ape with the dark expression, observes you closely as you take your seat. His gaze is intense, his eyes studying your every move. Despite your current state of confusion and memory loss, you are blissfully unaware of the true purpose behind his watchful eye.

Jack stands outside your tent, a smile playing on his lips as he knocks a gentle rhythm against the sturdy support. The sound of his knuckles against the wood carries through the air, alerting you to his presence.

The ape leader, Noa, gently strokes the feathers of the bird, Sun. In a soft whisper, he instructs the creature, "Find her, Sun." As the words leave his lips, a mixture of dread and cautious optimism wells up in his heart. His voice carries a hint of desperation as he clarifies, "I need... her." The weight of the situation lies heavy on his shoulders, and he braces himself for whatever outcome the search may bring.

Noa observes as Sun spreads its wings and takes flight, soaring into the darkening sky. The leader's eyes follow the bird's path, his gaze fixed on its form until it disappears out of sight. With each beat of its wings, Sun takes with it the hope of finding what Noa so desperately needs.

Keli cautiously approaches the ape leader, Noa, with a mixture of determination and nerves. As she nears him, her anxiety is palpable, but there is something else - a hint of bravery and a willingness to convey her message. The expression on her face betrays the internal struggle between her trepidation and her resolution to speak out. She had already shown her apology to Loui, but Noa deserved one as well. Especially if you were to not make it back.

Noa turns his gaze towards Keli, acknowledging her approach with a slight nod. Keli, her voice tinged with guilt, utters a sincere apology, "Very sorry... for... everything..." The weight of her words hangs heavy in the air, acknowledging her responsibility for the events that led to your capture. The anguish in her voice is evident as she confesses her inability to protect you. Noa's expression remains solemn, listening to her words with a mixture of understanding and disappointment.

Keli spoke with determination, her voice carrying a sense of assurance. "I will convince... Loui... to give his blessing... in the end." She smiled, her thoughts turning to you and Noa, envisioning your profound love that stood out as something truly unique. With conviction, she affirmed, "You two... belong to each other." Noa's expression softened at her words, a flicker of hope sparking within him. The mention of your love struck a chord, reminding him of the depth of the connection you shared. Noa's expression softened, acknowledging the wisdom in her words. The mention of your love only further solidified the idea that you and he were destined to be together.

Whoever had taken you away from Noa would face his wrath. They would come to regret their actions. For Noa, the thought of anyone or anything attempting to claim what was rightfully his ignited a fierce determination within him. The protective fire in his eyes and the firmness in his stance spoke volumes. He would ensure that those responsible for your absence would pay the price for their actions. No one messed with what Noa considered his own.

After two days, you remain in a state of confusion, your identity still unknown to you. The surroundings of the camp, with its unfamiliar people and apes, make you feel more like a stranger than being at "home." Nothing about this place sparks the tiniest flicker of memory or recognition. Despite the efforts of those around you, including Jack, you still feel lost and bewildered.

As you reflect on your interactions with Jack, you can sense that there is a familiarity, a sense that the two of you were friends before your memory loss. Jack's kindness and the way he interacts with you suggest a history of friendship.

Jack notices you are engrossed in a book, and his presence captures your attention, pulling you away from its pages. With a warm smile, you greet him with a simple "Hi." The smile on your face indicates that you are glad to see him, perhaps even feeling a sense of comfort or familiarity in his presence.

“They’ve got the fire going. Eat a little dinner, drink some beer Rudy found. Way past expectation, but I think it will be alright.”

Though your response is somewhat hesitant, you agree to join them for dinner. “Um, sure.” There might still be some wariness or uncertainty bubbling just beneath the surface, but you decide to go along with Jack’s suggestion.

As you emerge from the tent, you can feel the weight of gazes upon you. People in the vicinity seem to turn their attention towards you, their eyes flickering with various expressions - curiosity, surprise, or perhaps even recognition - as they take in your presence.

As you make your way to the fire where the meal is being prepared, you can see the leader seated on a makeshift bench that grants him a higher vantage point. His position of authority and status are clear, and his proud demeanor is visible to all around him.

The leader's voice rings out loud and boastful, his declaration echoing through the surroundings as he addresses the group. "Our Lily is here!" There's an air of triumph and pride in his declaration, and his words serve as an announcement to the others that you have joined them at the gathering.

You glance at Jack with a puzzled expression, the unfamiliar name "Lily" catching your attention. "Lily?" you question, seeking an explanation. Jack, sensing your confusion, offers a small smile, perhaps recognizing that your memory is still foggy.

Jack clarifies the situation by simply stating, "Your name." His words hang in the air, confirming that the unfamiliar name "Lily" is indeed your own name. The revelation probably sparks a mix of emotions within you, as you begin to realize that even your own identity is shrouded in mystery due to your memory loss.

It doesn't immediately feel like your own name, as if there's a disjointedness between the name and your own identity. The unfamiliarity of "Lily" and the absence of any immediate recognition create a sense of confusion within you, leaving you uncertain about its significance and relationship to your actual identity.

Despite the initial confusion and unfamiliarity, the meal was enjoyable. The meat was cooked just right and tasted exquisite. The so-called "beer" was far from pleasant, but its effect in taming your headache was undeniable. The soothing sounds of the guitars in the night air added a touch of peacefulness to the atmosphere, and you found yourself humming along to the music without even realizing it.

Jack, sensing your enjoyment of the music, turns to you and asks, "Do you want to sing?" His question piques your interest, suggesting that he recognizes your affinity for music. Your hums and the way you’ve been following the music seem to hint at a talent or love for singing.

"Sing?" Uncertainty shrouds your mind as you contemplate if you have any talent for singing or have ever even tried it before. The thought of whether you enjoy singing or not adds another layer of mystery to your identity, as you grapple with the question of whether singing holds any familiarity or comfort for you.

You respond hesitantly, your voice tinged with uncertainty, "I... I don't know any of the words." The lack of familiarity with the lyrics or songs being sung likely creates a sense of exclusion, distancing you from the camaraderie and shared enjoyment experienced by the others around the fire.

Jack offers a lighthearted shrug and assures you, "Neither does anyone else." He then indicates to Rudy, who was freely making up nonsensical words to fill in the blanks, seemingly unbothered by the absence of correct lyrics. Jack's comment serves as a reminder that in the current moment, the words themselves hold less importance and that enjoying the melody is what truly matters.

Slowly, a smile appears on your face as you begin tapping your foot in rhythm with the music. The melody takes hold of you, lifting your spirits and carrying you away with its soothing vibrations. As you tap your foot to the beats, you begin to feel engrossed in the music, its power gently washing over you and momentarily dispelling any lingering doubts or uncertainties.

With a mixture of resignation and confidence, you find yourself agreeing, letting out a slight groan before standing up and launching into song. The words flow out of you effortlessly, perfectly synced with the tune being played. The familiarity of the song suggests that you have heard it before, despite the current state of memory loss. It's as if the music is speaking to something deep within your subconscious, stirring faint memories you can't quite grasp.

As you sing and dance around the camp, a hazy fog descends upon your mind. Fragmentary feelings and vague snippets of memory dance at the edge of your consciousness, evoking images of a time when you last heard this song.

Suddenly, a flash of realization strikes you. This song, this memory is connected to a kiss. The realization sends a ripple of surprise through you, stirring a mix of emotions within your chest.

The memory eludes you, just beyond your reach. You can feel the ghost of their presence, their lips against yours, and the tender touch of their hands tracing your body. The image is fleeting, but it stirs a powerful longing within you. The need to find this stranger, this person connected to the memory, ignites a spark of determination in your heart.

As you give it your all, singing out a powerful note, a surprise interrupts your performance. A bird suddenly swoops in right in front of you, its unexpected appearance breaking your concentration. Startled, you find yourself staring down at an unexpected guest. The bird, an eagle, has planted itself right in front of your feet, its gaze fixed intently on you. Its expectant presence leaves you puzzled as if it's silently waiting for something, though what exactly is unclear to you?

As the large ape smirks at the eagle, a flicker of recognition and understanding crosses his face. It's evident that the presence of the bird holds significance – it's a symbol of someone or something important— Noa.

The Eagle pecked at the fabric of your clothes, tearing a small part of the fabric off. “Hey!” you pull the fabric back and watch the Eagle fly off with the cloth tucked in its beak.

Sun, the loyal bird, returns after its journey into the night sky. With a loud call, it announces its arrival and lands gracefully on Noa's outstretched arm. Noa's gaze focuses on the bird, anticipating the news it brings.

As Sun gracefully lands on Noa's arm, a sight catches his attention - a familiar piece of fabric grasped between the bird's beak. The cream-colored fabric, worn and thinning, holds significance. Noa immediately recognizes the fabric, and the presence of it in Sun’s beak confirms his suspicion. It was a part of your dress, and the embroidery along the edge serves as a clear indication of its belonging to you.

Noa gently takes the fabric from Sun's grasp, and as his fingers come into contact with the worn material, he is hit with the familiar scent of you. He can't help but run his fingers along the thin piece of cloth, holding it delicately in his hands. It is the closest he can get to being with you, and the touch of the fabric ignites a wave of emotions within him.

Noa’s fingers clench the fabric tighter as a powerful surge of anger and intense hatred floods his being. The thought of someone having stolen you away from him ignites a fiery rage within his chest. The very idea of it fuels a burning desire to find you and bring you back where you belong.

Noa stands in a menacing silence, his body radiating raw anger. His chest is puffed out, a sign of his heightened emotions, and his lips are pressed together, forming a tight, firm line. The tension in his jaw is evident as his teeth grind against each other, hinting at the barely controlled anger boiling inside him.

As Loui’s eyes flutter open, he is met with the sight of Noa standing nearby, holding out a piece of your dress. Noa's visage is stern, his face bearing a tight frown, signaling the seriousness of the situation. The fabric, torn and frayed, hangs between Noa's fingers, a tangible reminder of your absence and the urgent need for action.

Noa's voice pierces the air with a commanding and menacing tone. The words are low and filled with anger as he states, "We go... now." There is no room for argument or delay. The time for action has arrived. Noa’s determined expression leaves no doubt that he is ready to embark on a mission to find you, and nothing will stand in his way.

As Noa utters his order, he doesn't tarry for a response. He swiftly turns towards the rest of the apes, his voice booming through the air. "WE GO… NOW!" His command rings out, rousing the remaining apes from their sleep. Those who were dozing are jolted awake, their eyes snapping open as they scramble to their feet, preparing for the journey ahead.

With the piece of fabric safely tucked into his wrapped arm, Noa ensures that it is securely held in place. The fabric is laid over his fur, close to his skin, as a symbol of his determination to find you. It serves as a constant reminder of the mission at hand and the purpose driving him forward.

Noa turns his attention to Sun, the loyal bird perched on his arm. With clear determination, he issues a command. "Sun... Lead me." The bird, understanding the urgency in Noa's tone, spreads its wings, ready to take flight and lead the way.

The sky was pitch black, the night hours in full force, as the 6 apes mounted and began their journey. Noa led the way, his determination and focus unwavering as he navigated the group through the darkness. The air was thick with anticipation, the gravity of the situation palpable. With each bound the apes made, they drew closer to finding you.

Eagle Sun perched in a tree at the edge of the camp, its watchful eye scanning the surroundings. Noa and the group arrived shortly after, moving stealthily and maintaining a low profile. They moved forward in silence, their steps light and careful, not wanting to alert anyone to their presence. The element of surprise was crucial as they observed the camp before them.

Noa's gaze scanned the area intently, his eyes darting left and right, searching desperately for any trace of you. Every nook and cranny, every shadow and patch of darkness, was scrutinized as he searched for even the faintest sign of your presence. The tension in his body was palpable, the muscles in his arms and jaw taut with the intensity of his focus.

Loui bends down, crouching next to Noa. In a hushed tone, he points at a figure across the camp and utters a single word, "Him." The leader of the camp, the one responsible for your capture, comes into view. Noa's gaze follows Loui's finger, fixing on the man who had taken you away.

Noa, stunned by the sight before him, struggles to accept what he is seeing. He doubts himself, questioning if he is mistaken, his eyes flitting from the leader to Anaya and Soona. Yet, the concerned expressions on their faces only add to his confusion and uncertainty. Noa's mind races, trying to make sense of the unexpected revelation.

Noa's voice is nothing more than a low whisper as he utters the name, "Proximus." The name leaves his lips with a mix of disbelief and anger. The realization that Proximus Caesar, the fallen Ape King, was not dead at all, and he had taken you.

[rubysunnday]

but who could stay?

a/n: i'm erasing colin's 'lover boy' atttidue (or however you describe it) because it was the least colin thing i've seen imo. like, my man travels bc he doesn't want to be the ogling of the ton... anyways

summary: Every time Colin Bridgerton returned from travelling the world, there was always an urge inside him to run away again as soon as he could. There was only one woman who could make him stay. Y/N Barrett waited for Colin, but he never stayed long enough for her to tell him her feelings. Now she is engaged and about to enter a loveless marriage arranged by her parents. All she wants is for Colin to stay in London long enough to realise the truth of their relationship.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

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Every year, after the debutantes had walked in front of the queen, there was a garden party. Open to everyone, it gave the debutantes an opportunity to further make their mark on the ton as well as allowing other attendees to catch up with friends after a few months away from London.

Colin had been away for longer than just a few months. As soon as Anthony had married Kate, he had been on the first ship over to France.

It wasn't that he didn't like London - he did. Nothing would ever compare to his home city - the gas lamps in the November fog, the bright blue skies after days of endless rain.

Yet, he never felt at peace in London. There was always an urge inside him to up and leave. To travel as far away as he could and not stop until he fell off the edge of the world.

Perhaps it was fear of comitting to a life in one place. Perhaps he was just trying to escape the future that had been planned out for him since he was born.

Perhaps, he had yet to find a reason to stay.

Now that he was back in town, the urge to leave had resurfaced once again. Everywhere he looked, women were staring at him, debutantes were waving and gaving him coy smiles.

Colin awkwardly smiled back and then promptly turned around. He always felt uncomfortable when the attention suddenly became solely on him. He wasn't entirely sure why - he liked women and he liked flirting - but when every woman in the ton came at him at once, it felt predatory.

He knew they were only interested in him for his money (or what he had left of it) and his name. None were interested in Colin the Explorer or Colin the Writer.

Except one.

"Colin!!" Y/N Barrett exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as he walked toward her. "You are back at last!" She reached up and wrapped her arms around Colin's neck, pulling him in for a tight but quick hug. "You could have told me!"

"Apologies," Colin said, smiling at her as she stepped back. "I only just made it back in time for Francesca's debut."

Y/N's gloved hand trailed down his arm. "I am glad you are back," she told him, squeezing his hand once more before letting go. "It has been dull without you."

"Anything exciting happen whilst I was gone?" Colin asked, offering his arm to Y/N - a silent invitation to promenade around the gardens.

"Well, Alice Carey got married to Lord Carlson and then promptly gave birth to a son about four months later." Y/N raised her eyebrows at him. "Easy math there."

"Indeed," Colin muttered. "Has anyone called her bluff yet?"

Y/N shook her head. "No, she has been 'unwell' the last few months and has yet to reappear amongst the ton." She tilted her head to Colin and lowered her voice, "but rumour says she is pregnant yet again... with another man's baby."

"Has Lady Whistledown written of these rumours?"

"You and I both know she will not," Y/N replied with a quick roll of her eyes. "Not only had she not been seen since last season, she has changed her column entirely and now writes exclusively in support of the debutantes! I do not understand how you can go from writting rumours and scandal and causing the public downfall of several well known figures to... well, promoting other women!"

"Perhaps she has had a change of heart," Colin suggested.

"Leopards rarely change their spots, mon ami," Y/N said softly. "Anyway, enough about scandal and rumour," she extracted her arm from his and turned to face him, "how are you?"

Colin stopped walking. He looked at her, her gentle smile, her bright eyes. "I am... okay."

"Just okay?" Y/N asked, her brow furrowing slightly.

"I want to leave again," Colin admitted quietly. "Already, women are staring at me and eyeing me up as if I am their dinner. It makes me incredibly uncomfortable, to be honest. I know that all they want is Colin Bridgerton and not just Colin."

Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile. "Does it help that I am only interested in Colin?"

Colin found his lips curving up into a smile. "It does," he told her, "more than I can say. Which reminds me."

He reached a hand into the pocket of his coat - a coat that Hyacinth had kindly nicknamed his 'pirate coat' - and pulled out a dark velvet bag pulled taught by a silver tassel. Colin held it out to Y/N and she took it with her lilac gloved hands.

"You bought me a present?" Y/N exclaimed, holding the bag as if it was glass.

"I did not want you to feel left out," Colin said, his smile widening as Y/N stared in awe at the bag.

"Colin, it's beautiful!"

"Oh, the bag isn't the gift," Colin said quickly. "The gift is inside the bag."

Y/N's cheeks burnt with embarrassment. "Oh, yes, of course."

She carefully pulled open the bag and turned it upside down, tipping whatever was inside into the palm of her hand. Out tumbled a pair of silver embroidery scissors, engraved to look like a bird.

"Oh, Colin, they're gorgeous," Y/N whispered. "Where did you find them?"

Colin's smile grew. "A shop in Spain. They had other types but... well, they were different."

He had to confess, he was utterly delighted at her reaction. He knew Y/N loved her embroidery - she had endless baskets of thread and material and often sat in the park working on her current project. For his birthday, Y/N had gifted him a hand embroidered waistcoat featuring different birds and flowers from across the globe. Colin had taken it with him on his travels, wearing it as often as he could.

So, when he had seen the little embroidery scissors in the store, he knew he head to buy them. He had carried them around for six months and now, finally, they were in her hands.

"I have needed new scissors for a while," Y/N told him, her eyes still focused on the scissors. She gently turned them over in her hand, the metal glinting in the sunlight. "Thank you, Colin."

A voice interrupted the moment, carrying across the garden. "Y/N, my love."

Y/N looked over her shoulder, giving the man who had called her name a smile.

"Who is that?" Colin asked, looking at the man - who was signifcantly older than Y/N.

Y/N sighed as she turned back to face him. "Mr Catesby. The man I am courting," she told him softly. "Mama set us up. I have been out for three years and she expected me to be married in year one and having a baby by year three."

She was trying to smile but Colin could see that it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Do you love him?"

"I do not think love is possible," Y/N told him, glancing over her shoulder again. She turned back to Colin. "Friendship, perhaps but never love."

Silence fell around them for a moment. All Colin wanted to do was reach out his hand and hold hers. But he knew he couldn't. This was how it would be from now on - always near his side but just out of reach.

"I should go," Y/N said softly. "Thank you, again, for these. I will cherish them, I promise."

Y/N turned around and, with one last glance over her shoulder at Colin, walked toward Catesby and her future with him.

Colin couldn't look away. He knew he should because, really, what was staring going to do.

Y/N didn't look happy or sad as she stood next to Catesby, putting her arm through his. Whilst she smiled and laughed, none of it reached her eyes. She was pretending and Colin was the only one who could tell.

"You have to look away at some point," Francesca said softly, appearing at his side.

Colin swallowed heavily. "I know."

Francesca reached down and held his hand gently. "Why won't you?"

"I don't know," he eventually replied, forcing himself to look away and at his younger sister. He forced himself to grin at her. "Come along, I'm hungry."

Days turned into weeks and soon Colin hadn't spoken to Y/N for over a fortnight. He had seen her across the room at parties and balls, always at the side of Catesby.

Even though she wasn't happy, she still looked beautiful. Her dresses shimmered in the candlelight and when she did laugh, Colin could just picture her smile along with it.

Ever since he had found out she was being courted, Colin had retreated into himself. He spent long hours in his study, writing and drawing and wondering about what could have been.

His heart broke that little bit more the night of his mother's ball when Catesby announced their engagement. Y/N had smiled, sparkling under the lights once more in a dark blue gown and matching silk gloves. But Colin knew better. He could see how tense she was, how loosely she held Catesby's hand in hers - the way her eyes kept straying over to him.

Benedict and Anthony flocked him as they approached to give their congratulations. They bowed together and Colin was grateful that his brother's did all of the talking - speaking loud enough and quick enough so that neither Catesby nor Y/N's parents noticed Colin's silence.

Y/N did, though. She held his gaze the entire time and there was so much sadness within it, so much regret, that Colin nearly ripped her from Catesby's grip and pulled her to his side, threatening the man with a duel if he dared come closer.

Instead, he maintained his silence, giving a brief bow when they were finally dismissed. Colin refused to look back, focusing his gaze on the table of lemonade and sweet treats jutting out from the far wall.

"Colin, are you alright?" Benedict asked, raising his eyebrows slightly at his silent brother.

"Yes, why would I not be?" Colin said, picking up a glass of lemonade from the table.

"You are being unusually sullen and silent," Benedict replied.

Colin turned around to face his brother. HIs gaze flittered past him and over to Y/N. "Nothing's the matter."

Benedict caught Colin's wayward gaze and turned his head. His own gaze softened a little as he turned back to his brother. "It isn't too late," he said quietly.

Colin laughed humourlessly. "Really? She is an engaged woman, Benedict."

"Were you even around last season?" Benedict raised his eyebrows. "Anthony almost married someone else entirely - he got as far as the altar, Colin."

"That was different?"

"How so?"

Colin let out a frustrated sigh. "Because it just was. Who is to say Y/N would even be interested in my hand?"

"Who's to say she wouldn't?" Benedict looked at his brother. "Answer me this. Every time you come home, you immediately have the urge to flee again. Do you still have that urge when you're with Y/N?"

The silence that followed answered Benedict's question perfectly, Colin knew that. He eyed his brother. "I cannot do that to her, Benedict. I cannot."

"Well," Benedict sighed, "you are a better man than me, brother." He squeezed Colin's shoulder and turned to go, leaving him alone by the refreshment table.

Colin looked over at Y/N again. She had moved and was now walking onto the dance floor, hand in Catesby's. It hurt him more than he was prepared to admit. Yet, it would be so easy to walk over to her and take her hand from his - to confess all his feelings in a flurry of words and doe-eyed expressions. But the scandal that would cause - the ramfication's that could have on Y/N... Colin couldn't do that to her.

It would also be easy to simply walk away, leave the country and pretend he had never met her. Colin knew that nothing he did would ever mean he could forget her. He thought about her everywhere he went, from the churches of Florence to the waters of Athens.

Colin groaned quietly. He tilted his head back and swallowed the rest of the lemonade in a big gulp, wincing at the bitter taste. He set the cup down on the table and stepped away from the wall.

Weaving through the crowds, he spotted his eldest brother standing by the open french doors, Kate by his side. Colin heistated for a second, not wanting to darken Anthony's door with his issues. But the last time he had struggled with issues of the heart, he had given him some startlingly clear advice and he needed that again.

"Colin!" Kate exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as he approached. She pulled her arm from Anthony's and hugged Colin tightly.

Colin squeezed her back as hard as he dared, knowing Anthony was watching his every move like an over-protective swan. "How are you?" He asked, reluctantly letting go.

Kate puffed out her cheeks, hand straying to her stomach. "Coping," she replied. "He, however," she nodded at Anthony, "is not."

"I am allowed to be stressed," Anthony muttered, hand resting against Kate's waist. "It is very overwhelming, but exciting," he added, noting his wife's worried look.

Colin instantly felt guilty. He knew Anthony was overwhelmed. Trying to run the household, keep an eye on Francesca and Eloise all whilst being concerned for his wife and unborn child was more than enough trouble.

"What's wrong?" Anthony asked, noting Colin's distant gaze.

"Oh, nothing," Colin told him with a shake of his head. "Sorry, I should -"

Kate reached out and grabbed his hand by the wrist, pulling him back to them. "Colin, stop." She gave him a gentle smile, cupping the side of his cheek with one hand. "Come, let's go for a walk."

Kate put her arm through Colin's and let him lead her out into the gardens of Bridgerton House. It was still daylight, though the sun had descended. A few couples stood around the grass and patio but it was otherwise quiet.

"I assume this is about Y/N," Kate said, pulling her purple silk shawl tighter around her arms.

Colin nodded, leaning against the stone balustrade. He crossed his arms, a heavy sigh escaping him. "I do not know what to do. I should have stayed, made my intentions clear but I did not and now... now I do not know."

Kate pushed herself up and onto the balustrade, sitting on top of it, her feet dangling down. "What is your heart telling you to do?"

"To steal her away from him and marry her tonight," Colin admitted. "But I cannot do that."

"Why not?"

"Because she is engaged. I cannot bring that scandal to her, Kate, I just..." Colin closed his eyes. "What if she does not return my feelings and I ruin her one chance at marriage?"

"But what if she does?" Kate said softly. "What if she does return those feelings and she spends the rest of her life with you rather than a man she does not love?"

Colin looked at her. "Can I take that risk?"

"Anthony and I were plagued by scandal last year," Kate said quietly, hand resting on her slightly swollen stomach. "Things should never have gone as far as they did but it did not stop us from finding our true happiness. If you want her, Colin, then go and get her. She is right there, waiting."

Five minutes later, Colin was back inside the house, searching everywhere for any sign of Y/N.

He still wasn't sure if he had the courage to tell Y/N the truth. Whilst he knew she wasn't happy, happiness was a minor issue when it came to marriage. The status and money Catesby would give her was more than Colin could ever hope to offer in a lifetime.

But he could give her happiness and he could give her love. Surely, that was worth something?

Yet, as he stood against the landing wall, watching Kate and Anthony waltz together, he knew what he had to do.

Y/N stood by herself, near the table laden with food. Colin spotted her as soon as he walked down the stairs. She wore a dark green gown, one that matched his jacket perfectly.

He tried to approach her first thing but his mother grabbed his arm and whisked him off in the opposite direction, gabbling at him about eligible women and debutantes and flowers.

Y/N had noticed Colin as soon as he'd walked in the room. His jacket matched her dress and all she wanted to do was approach him and ask him to take her far away from here.

She was overwhelmed with wedding preparations and plans for her to move to Catesby's estate in Dorset. Her mother had not allowed her a moment's peace. Sleep refused to come at night and Y/N lay awake, regret and panic growing inside her as the date of her wedding grew ever closer.

The engagement had been a shock. Y/N herself had not actually spoken the word 'yes' aloud, her mother had done that for her. She had blindly followed along, allowing Catesby to place the ring on her finger and brag to his friends that he would soon be a father.

A father. Never mind a husband or a man in love. Just a father.

Because, whilst he was not a bad man, all Catesby wanted was a son to continue his line. That was all Y/N was to him, all this relationship was to him - making an heir.

Y/N had known this marriage would never be one built on love. But a foolish part of her had hoped that, maybe, they would find love together. Seeing Catesby now, flirting with other women and bragging to his friends, she knew that there would never be love.

She plastered a smile to her face as yet another person approached her to congrulate her on her engagement. Exhaustion was beginning to pull at her body, the sleepless nights and endless trips to the modiste finally catching up with her.

"You could at least try and look happy," her mother muttered, suddenly appearing beside her.

Y/N sighed softly, blinking the pull of sleep away. "Sorry."

"Honestly, when was the last time you slept, you look dreadful."

Thank you, mother Y/N thought, trying not to roll her eyes.

"I need you to look beautiful for this wedding," her mother continued, "there is a lot riding on this marriage for this family. Do not mess it up. Ah, Lady Cowper!" Y/N's mother crowed, rushing over to greet her friend.

Y/N needed to leave. She glanced around the room, checking that everyone was preoccupied and then made a swift dart for the corridor running behind the stairs. The room had been warm when she'd walked in but it had only gotten hotter in the hours since. Her head was aching, her heart was pounding and her hands would not stop shaking.

She didn't know what had come over her. There was no reason for her to be acting like this - all she was doing was getting married. But there were so many things wrong with the marriage and with Catesby and with her mother's obsession of wanting a grandchild that Y/N could not go through with it.

The corridor was quiet and signifcantly cooler than the ballroom. Y/N leant her back against the wall and took a deep breath in, desperate to calm herself down and reinstate her happy facade.

"Y/N."

Of course, Y/N thought, turning her head and watching Colin Bridgerton approach her. Of course he appears now.

"Colin, I do not -"

"I have to talk to you," Colin said firmly, coming to an abrupt stop at her side. "Please."

Y/N closed her eyes. She felt sick. The pounding in her head was only getting worse and she couldn't remember the last time she had eaten anything.

"Please, Y/N, I beg -"

"Yes, alright!" Y/N exclaimed, silencing Colin. "Come with me."

She led him back up the stairs - not an abnormal sight since many guests had seeked solace in the front room of Bridgerton house - and down the corridor into an empty room.

"Colin, whatever you want to say to me, please make it quick," Y/N told him, pushing him into the room and pulling the door to. "I cannot disappear from my own engagement party for long."

"You do not love him."

Y/N frowned at Colin. "I told you this earlier -"

"Just... say it again."

"No, I do not love him," Y/N told him, her voice soft. "But that does not mean I can walk away from this marriage."

"What if you had someone else to walk to?" Colin asked, moving toward her.

Y/N stared at him. "Colin, what do you... why..."

"The reason I travel, Y/N, is because I have never felt at home anywhere," Colin said. He took a deep breath in, steeling his nerves and forcing himself to not back down. "Every time I came back, I would have the urge to run away again until I reached the edge of the world. But each time I came back and I saw you, I suddenly felt as if I finall had a reason to stay."

Y/N felt as if all her air had been stolen from her. She stared at Colin - that was all she could do. Here he was, confessing his heart to her and all she could think about was how angry her mother would be, how much scandal it would cause and also how much the room was beginning to spin.

"I could not let you go off into this marriage without giving you a choice," Colin continued, moving a step closer. "I love you, Y/N, I have done for a long time. I wish that I had not spent so long away because maybe things could have gone differently. Perhaps this would be our engagement ball instead. Perhaps it still can be.

"I know that this is asking a lot of you and I know that with this choice scandal will come. But I will stand by you through it all, Y/N. No matter what the ton say, no matter what they do, I will not leave your side. You deserve to be happy and you deserve the right for this to be your decision."

Y/N looked at Colin. Hope was clear as day in his eyes. She had wanted this confession from him for so long and here it was. The circumstances were awful and scandal was calling and her parents would hate her and the ton would give her the look they reserved only for the worse offenders and -

"Y/N? Are you alright?" Colin asked, concern replacing the hope in his eyes. Her skin had lost colour dramatically quick and she was beginning to sway.

Y/N swallowed, nausea growing. She blinked, looking past Colin and at the window. No, that too was spinning.

"Is the room spinning for you?" Y/N asked, her voice quiet.

Colin frowned. "No. Is it for you?"

"A little," Y/N admitted. "I think I might need a moment."

She took a step forward but the room tilted dramatically to the side and hazy black spots filled her vision. Y/N mentally braced herself to hit the carpeted floor and for her body to ache but hands wrapped around her waist, guiding down.

Colin knelt on the floor, resting Y/N's back against his chest. He was never great when it came to dealing with poorly people - his siblings could attest to that. He himself was a terrible patient, incapable of waiting until he was better and always pushing himself before he was ready.

But this was Y/N - his Y/N. Her skin was clammy and lacking colour and her hand was shaking as she tried to grip his. And he had no idea what to do.

They couldn't simply stay in here, someone else might walk in and then there would be a whole other scandal.

Then, an idea came into Colin's head. There was one place he knew no one would stray into. One place that would shield them for just a little longer.

"Come on," Colin whispered. "I've got you."

He put one arm around her shoulders and slipped his other under her legs, lifting her up into his arms. With one foot, he nudged open the door. The upstairs corridor was quiet. Colin snuck out, keeping his footfall as light as he possibly could.

His bedroom wasn't far away. In fact, it was only three doors down the corridor. As he pushed open the door, Colin thanked his past self for forgetting to close the door properly.

It was cooler inside than it was anywhere else in the house. His windows were open, the net curtains blowing gently in the summer breeze. A small fire crackled in the hearth, giving off enough light to chase away the darkness.

With as much care as he could, Colin lay Y/N down on his bed, laying her head on his pillow. He absently brushed his fingers along her cheek as he straightened and her eyes slowly opened, looking up at him.

"Has the room stopped spinning yet?" Colin asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand resting against her leg.

Y/N hummed softly. "Partly," she told him. "I still feel awful."

"When was the last time you ate?"

"I do not remember," Y/n replied. At Colin's raised eyebrows, Y/N let out a tired sigh. "Mama has kept me so busy and I have hardly slept these last few weeks. Oh, Colin" she said, her head finallycatching up with what had just happened, "I can only apologise for -"

"Do not be silly," Colin told her, reaching up and taking her hand in his. "Our bodies can only handle so much."

"But fainting? That is just... mortifiying!"

Colin chuckled. "When I was in Spain, I fainted in the middle of dinner with a very important noble because I had spent too long in the sun and not looked after myself. My face was bright pink and sun burnt and I felt awful for days after." He shook his head, laughing softly. Colin squeezed her hand. "What I am saying is that we all forget to look after ourselves sometimes. You have a better reason than me, however."

Y/N pushed herself up, letting Colin pull her forward until she was sat cross legged on the bed. He kept a steady hand on her upper arm until she gave him a reassuring smile, confirming that she wasn't about to spontaneously collapse again.

"If this engagement is making you this unwell," Colin said quietly, "is it worth it?"

Y/N sighed softly. She rubbed the pad of her thumb back and forth across Colin's knuckles. "No, it is not."

"Then what is holding you back?" Colin asked. He leant his head forward, seeking her gaze. "Tell me."

"I am scared," Y/N admitted with a small shrug, looking down at the bed. "I am scared of the consequences that will come with calling off this engagement."

Colin gently tilted her chin up until she was looking at him. "What else? Because there is something else, I can tell."

Y/N swallowed heavily. She closed her eyes for a moment. "My mother is determined to make this work," she said softly, opening her eyes again. "She keeps reminding me about how much is riding on this marriage, the things it will do to our family. I am terrified of her reaction if I do not go through with it. What if my family disown me? That will be an even bigger scandal than calling off the engagement!"

"What if she does not?" Colin suggested. "What if everything falls into place?"

Y/N shook her head. Her eyes were glistening with tears as she looekd at Colin. "But what if it doesn't?" She asked quietly, her voice almost lost to the night air.

"Then I will stand by your side no matter what," Colin replied, taking both her hands in his. He held them as if they were the most precious things in the world - because they were. "No matter what happens, you will always have me and you will always have my family, I promise you."

Uncertainty still lingered in Y/N's eyes. Colin knew he was asking much of her but she deserved a happy, loving marriage with someone who loved her. She desered to have a choice.

"You deserve to be happy, Y/N," Colin said softly. "Do not ever think otherwise."

"You promise to stay?" Y/N asked, her voice quiet and small. She looked at him. "Because, every time I thought I was ready to tell you I loved you, you disappeared, Colin. Then, I wouldn't see you for months and... I cannot do this if you are going to leave me again the moment we are married."

Colin leant forward and pressed a kiss to her forehad, his right hand holding the back of her neck. "I promise," he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers, "to never leave you again. Together until the end of our days."

Y/N smiled at that, relaxing into Colin's hold. "Okay," she said, her voice certain for the first time all night. "Are you going to ask me, then?"

Colin released her and stood up from the bed. He moved over to his desk and pulled out a drawer, rumaging through it until he found what he was looking for.

"I picked it up in Florence," Colin said, coming back over to the bed. "Because I had decided that when I got back, I would take your hand as mine. I thought for a moment I would never get to do this but..."

He trailed off, looking up from the ring box. Y/N was still sat on his bed, her smile slowly growing. Colin clicked open the lid and knelt down on one knee, extending the box out to her.

"I know I left and for that I am deeply sorry," he said quietly. "It took me this long to realise that you were my reason to stay. So, Y/N Barrett, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

Y/N nodded, her smile reaching her eyes and crinkling the corners. "Yes," she whispered, holding out her left hand, "of course I will."

Colin pulled the golden band out, the moonstone set in the centre catching the light of the fire. He slipped it onto her finger, pleasantly surprised to discover that it fit perfectly.

"Perfect fit," Y/N said, holding her hand up. She looked back at him. "It is as if it knew."

Colin grinned. He took her hand in his, thumb trailing over the ring. "Perhaps it did."

[lonelystarrs]

Divide The Love.

Toji Fushiguro x FemReader x Satoru Gojo

You were supposed to be a one night stand, nothing more, nothing important. So how the hell did the three of you end up in this dynamic? Who knows, who cares.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI • 3some f/m only • smutsmutsmut • drabbles • AU toji/Suguru/gojo were house mates • crack • 🌶️ • poly relationship • healthy relationships • Fluff on both more so Gojo • a bit of everything really • gojo’s scene tho <3 🥹

Word count: 7.1k (I am unwell)

Taxing.

That was what it was to be around you and Satoru.

Amusing.

But oh so taxing.

Toji had all but mastered hiding any hint of amusement when around you both afraid if he ever showed the fact he found you funny he’d never live it down. Your behaviour would be deemed acceptable, Satoru was limitless to his goofiness and the kind of influence you really shouldn’t be around.

Then again you egged Satoru on just as much. Ah who was he kidding. You were as bad as each other.

You were supposed to be a simple one night stand, nothing more and nothing less. You weren’t supposed to be anything special, anything different. Pussy was pussy. Wet was wet.

Yet here you were sitting comfortably between the two men like you’d belonged there from the start. It was coming up to a year since Toji brought you back here. a.fucking.year.

Hell, was he even with his ex wife this long?

He hadn’t had another woman in a year either and truthfully, the thought of it now was kinda a turn off. Maybe it was age, maybe it was boredom of same routines in fucking around. He didn’t look at women like he used to -like an opportunity. Instead they walked by him like everyone else on the street because you plagued his damn mind like a disease.

And quiet frankly he didn’t want the cure.

It was 4 months since Satoru wormed his way in as well, and surprisingly he hadn’t seen anyone else in that time. Toji thought it was a mere one off him joining in one night -a simple threesome to make Satoru stop harping on about his crush on you. Toji thought once he got his fill he’d move on like he always did, he’d get bored and instead he carved a seat for himself and became as invested as Toji.

Unbelievable right?

Suguru used to live in this penthouse with the two men but his passing had brought some changes to Gojo. The dynamic was odd and most people laughed off the idea when they heard you were with the two men. It was impossible, ridiculous and foolish.

“Haha! Right, such a woman doesn’t exists. Putting up with one of you? Let alone both? She a witch or something?”

Maybe you were.

You certainly rivalled most beauty standards without all this crap in your face, make up was only really worn if you done something fancy — you did have a strict skin care routine though.

Speaking of which.

“Can you take this shit off my face now?”

You hummed and looked over your shoulder at Toji who was sat on the couch looking less than fucking amused about the face mask you’d put on him.

Gojo was sat before you with his legs crossed — if he were a dog his tail would be wagging. He was fucking beaming at you whilst you applied the face mask on him, his hair clipped up with some kind of clip Toji had no idea how to even explain —he really didn’t care for girly shit. All he could say was Satoru looked like a cockatoo with his fringe up like that.

“You got another 10 minutes yet, you’re so impatient.”

“I’d use every one of those minutes, you need it old man,”

“Off ya fuck manchild.”

“Don’t be jealous of my baby like skin and good looks, youth is with me!”

You flicked Gojo’s forehead with the mask applicator, a wet slap sounding through the room.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“Oh please that didn’t hurt you,”

“It did! Terribly so,”

“Manchild,” Toji repeated whilst he leaned back into the couch again.

What the fuck were they doing? Him, Toji Fushiguro an assassin and Gojo Satoru a leader for a world dominating, family owned corporation sat here wearing face masks because their bratty girlfriend won at some damn video game.

Toji looked down, keeping the back of his head cradled by the sofa. He watched you laughing and Satoru’s blue eyes absolutely beaming at you, watching your every expression as you applied the mask evenly on his face. Even with that disgusting looking shitty green mask on your face, hair tied up into a messy bun, some comfy clothes on —matching coloured baggy lounge trousers with a tight little crop top. You still looked so pretty, you held an air of youth and something refreshing about you, yet you carried yourself like a grown ass woman.

He was older than you by 7 years, you were the same age as Satoru at 30 but you made him feel young again. You gave him that stupid rush he’d missed out on as a teen.

His eyes scanned over your body as you sat crossed legged in front of the other man and even with you hardly at your best right now, even with that ugly mask on your face he’d still absolutely fuck you utterly stupid like this.

There was something about the comfort, the familiarity -the trust and calmness here. That was the point you’d both reached with each other, it brought back fondness from his deceased wife and it made him wonder if he got a second chance at this with you.

Watching you like this, the stupidest, simplest of things stirred something ridiculous in his chest that shot straight to his lower stomach, rushing blood to his cock and he felt it twitch in his baggy sweats.

Toji scowled again before glaring back at the ceiling. God you pissed him off. He didn’t want to feel it. He zoned out from you and Satoru, deciding to block out whatever was around him to concentrate on beating down this horridly pleasant feeling in his chest.

He didn’t hear the whispering.

“Does he know you put a pink mask on him?”

“Nah, I took a photo as well when he wasn’t looking.”

“Even with this hair tied up?”

“Yup, his lil top knot n’all.”

“Heheh. Smart move, you gonna bribe him with it?”

“Absolutely,”

“You’re the girl of my dreams,” Gojo sighed dreamily and you snorted a laugh at him, prodding the end of the applicator against his forehead.

“You’ll be saying that to someone else in a few months with your short attention span.”

“Nuh-uh! Told ya, I’m serious about this.”

You rolled your eyes and put the lid back on your face mask pot, going to stand he stopped you half way, his fingers wrapping around your wrist stopping you from fully standing.

“Hey-“ you hummed in response and looked down to Satoru, the amusement dropped from his face, that usual playful tone replaced with a rare softness. “-m’serious, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

You seen his jaw clench and his blue eyes glanced over you to Toji, who remained glaring at the ceiling tuning out from your conversation, before shifting off else were awkwardly looking at something across the room.

“Nothin’ don’t worry.”

You had been roped into baking for Satoru because of his endless consumption for sweet things and today you’d agreed to make brownies.

Satoru sat on the island, chin resting into his hands whilst his elbows rested on it. Leaning forward in the high bar stool watching you work with some doe assed expression.

“You gonna put that chocolate stuff in again?”

“The Nutella?”

“Yeah! That stuff,”

“You’re gonna be fat.”

“Nah, besides I know a good way to burn it off,” he winked at you whilst giving a small smirk.

“Y’ever stop thinking with your dick?”

Toji strode by, chiming in his input after returning from the gym and opening the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

You could see he was still sweaty, his biceps looked fucking huge as he still carried his pump from the gym. The veins popping up his arms was enough to make you slow the stirring the spoon in the bowl until you stopped completely.

He was a tall glass of water and you were drinking him.

Well, clearly it was arms day at the gym. You gawked at the man who stood in all his glory, fuck was he always this huge? Had he gotten bigger? That wasn’t just the pump was it? Those tiddies of his… ugh. He’d let you motor boat him, right?

“See something you like, sweetheart?”

Your jaw closed so fast they heard your teeth clack together and you returned to stirring the spoon in the mix of brownies furiously.

“Don’t be jealous cause I can fill her more than you now old man, shootin’ blanks now aren’t you?”

You snorted a laugh and turned back around to the boys,

“More like baby powder,” you chimed in.

Satoru snickered a laugh behind you, Toji’s eyes darkened as they looked down at you whilst drinking, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped down the water.

“Fuck, fuck y/n, I’m gonna cum,” you mimicked him, probably sounding more desperate than he actually came off.

The golden part though, was you lifting your hand and you blew into it, flour clouding across the kitchen and hitting Toji’s chest. Little lumps falling down his body gathering at the band of his joggers.

Satoru was howling behind you his hands slapped down on the islands marble countertop, Toji looking less than amused, despite the glint in his eye giving away that it was funny his ego was simply not letting you get away with it.

The bottle hit the counter and he strode forwards. The amusement dropped from your face and jaw fell slack, Gojo watched with glinting eyes as he drank in the scene unfolding before him.

Uh oh, you were in trouble~!

Toji swiped the bowl from your hands, throwing it to the countertop behind you as he towered before you, one hand grabbing your neck and forcing you up into your tip toes.

“Oh? That funny shit left you pretty fast princess.”

He felt you gulp under his palm, the hand squeezed your neck with the pressure you liked, he felt the vibration of the moan that crawled up your throat. His green eyes glanced down to watch your body, your hands gripping the counter behind you and your thighs rubbed together.

“Tch, look at you-“ he kicked at your feet to separate them, pressing his huge thigh against your pussy and angled it up, he felt you buckle and it let him knew he pressed against your clit just right “-least you know to submit,” he husked out, lowering his mouth to brush against your lips before pulling away.

His hand around your throat left to gather your hair painfully, you winced as he gripped it in his large hand, pushing you down to your knees. His other hand pulling down his joggers enough to release his semi hard dick.

Even soft this guy was huge, thick and long, it silently stood at least 9 inches at least. He was physically daunting in every aspect, Toji was older and his physical form dominated the two of you overall. Everything about him screamed pure man.

Satoru wasn’t far behind at all, a god in his own league and he only bulked out more as he got older. But Toji had something Satoru didn’t have -that rough and ready thing that made you fucking melt. Gojo made you want to challenge him, even though you’d never win but Toji purely made you want to submit.

Toji was filth, mean, cold and reserved. He’d spit in your mouth, he’d eat you out after cumming in you, he’d verbally abuse you in only a way he could.

Gojo taunted and teased, his method was far from clean, but he took a more playful approach. Toji just took.

“Get it hard then-“ Toji pushed your face forwards towards his cock and you seen it flex giving away his excitement, “-I’m gonna paint that pretty face of yours with cum, see if your crap jokes are funny then.”

Your tongue pressed against the tip before licking a line up to the hilt, feeling it hardening under you. Toji looked over his shoulder to Gojo who had remained in his seat, blue eyes watching everything with his mouth formed into a straight line. Amusement had also left him it seems, favouring watching the scene unfold.

“Y’watching kid?” The smirk that spread over Toji’s mouth was nasty, “-maybe I’ll put a kid in her, really take her as mine.”

Toji’s thumb ran over your cheek as he groaned out at the feeling of your warm mouth taking in his head, tongue swirling around it.

“Have you look at her everyday knowing she’s got my kid in her -fuck- tits all swollen and stomach all round-“ his head tilted back as you took him down your throat, his dick now solid as he felt you gag around him “-it’ll drive your cocky ass mad.”

Gojo’s smirk twitched on his lips, refusing to show Toji’s taunting was actually striking a cord in the blue eyes. Instead he opted to tilting his head to lock eyes with you -doe eyed, all glassy looking pretty at him and a mouth stuffed full of thick cock, drool already spilling down your chin.

Satoru almost groaned at the sight of you like that, feeling his own dick hardening as Toji started to rock his hips to gain more friction down your throat, that would swell up as he pushed his cock further down it before retracting.

“Heh, you really hit a nerve with scarface~!”

Being left alone with you seemed like a rarity these days, even though that wasn’t the case it felt more valuable when he was alone with you.

You were laying on Toji, his thick legs either side of you both flat on the sofa. You were currently asleep on his chest, arms lazily wrapped around his, as you call it, slutty waist.

His arms were folded behind his head, the light from the massive tv danced in patterns a crossed the dark room as the film ran.

He knew you wouldn’t stay awake for it, now he was stuck like this on the sofa fighting his own sleep.

Your face nuzzled into his chest, a satisfying hum leaving you with a dreamy smile.

“Such good tiddies,” you slurred in your sleep, shuffling your body a bit against his.

He snorted a laugh, eyes returning back to watch you nuzzle your face between his pecs.

A smirk appeared on his lips, green eyes scanning over that pretty face looking so content buried in his.. tiddies.

“You’re an idiot,” he mumbled, lifting a hand to brush over your cheek, pushing the fallen strands of hair back.

“Insulting me even when I sleep?” You mumbled, pulling your body into a stretch before settling back on him.

Toji grunted and used the opportunity to shift himself under you.

You lifted your head and rested your chin on his chest, opening one eye to look at him sleepily.

“S’the time?”

“Midnight,”

You gasped dramatically and rose up,

“Old man! You shouldn’t be up so late, your poor back tomorrow, I’ll be buying you a summer frame.”

“If your fat ass wasn’t sleeping on me-“

“-I’m getting heavy for you? Truly, age is weakening you.”

Toji deadpanned at you before grabbing the back of your head and planting your face against his chest, smothering you. He felt you laughing, muffled by his muscle he smirked, keeping your face from lifting to see it.

You managed to twist your head to the side and dramatically inhaled.

“Death by tiddies won’t look glamorous on my death certificate.”

“Stop being so dramatic, you’re exhausting.” He released your head and let you lift yourself again a pouted now visible in your face and you moved to straddle him. He was shirtless under you because you were wearing his massive black t-shirt, some panties underneath and he wore his usual grey lounge joggers.

Your hands planted on his stomach, the muscle tensing under you and your fingers dented in to the six pack, gently moving them across the deep lines.

He rose an eyebrow as you wiggled your hips against his, he knew what you were looking for and it only made him smirk at you.

“Gotta work harder than that, princess.”

“Oh?”

Your hands gripped the bottom of the shirt, pulling it over your head, tits bouncing from the movement.

His hands folded behind his head and he shrugged.

“Meh,”

You pouted, frowning at him childishly, he could see the cogs turning in your head but he wasn’t expecting you to reach down, sliding your fingers down that smooth stomach before disappearing into your pathetic excuse of panties. Lacey and perfectly see through.

He watched your index finger press into your folds and run to your hole, gathering slick before moving back to your clit and rolling a circle over it. Hips twitching, an airy moan leaving you and he watched the pink dust over your cheeks, eyes half hooded as you dropped your gaze to his chest.

Strands of hair fell from your shoulders, framing your face as he watched your body reacting to your finger working against your clit. Your breathing picked up, your hips began moving in time with your finger.

Toji’s hands flexed behind his head, jaw tensing as he fought himself to reach out for you. Your other hand tugged at his sweats and he lifted his hips, it was a skill in itself on how you managed to shimmy them down just enough to release his dick with one hand whilst straddling him.

That finger on your clit never stopping as he watched it between your folds.

Your next move however did draw a grunt from him, pushing your panties aside you pressed your wet slit to his hardening length and dragged yourself along it. The airy, whiny moan that left you made his cock flex against your pussy.

“You dreamin’ about dick or somethin’? She’s fucking drooling, fuck.”

Green eyes fixed to watching the length of his dick gliding between your folds, quickly drenching it in slick he could see it glinting from the light of the tv.

Dick flexing again under you, completely acting on its own as you rolled yourself fucking stunningly against his cock, sandwiched between your cunt and his stomach.

Your soft pants in the room, the tv dulling out as he focused on you.

He snorted a laugh when you reached down, lifting yourself up to press the head of his cock against that tight hole.

“You ain’t gonna manage that sweetheart.”

Your hand braced against his stomach and despite his taunt you lowered yourself, his thick head pushing through that tight ring and he felt it actually fucking pop as it pushed through.

He exhaled heavily, hands balling into fists behind his head and he glared at you, your cocky stubbornness was always fun to watch but it always bugged him how you thought you’d manage without him.

Toji was a dom through and through, he’d let you have fun for his own amusement until he had enough.

“Not gonna beg for my help huh?”

“Fuck you, Toji.”

“Feel free, I hope you can fuck that dick,”

He watched you struggle, you sank down slowly and you made it half way before you huffed. Hand against his stomach curling into a fist.

“Fuck, you’re so thick.”

Surprise was shown from both you and Toji as a hand wrapped around your neck from behind, the other gripping your hair and pulling your head back. Lips crashing into yours in an upside down kiss.

Gojo hummed into the kiss, greedily shoving his tongue into your mouth and squeezing your throat lightly.

“You look like you need some help,” his lips moved against yours, shifting his leg he bent it and pushed between Toji’s and the back of the sofa to give himself even balance and position to be directly behind you, his other foot braced on the floor. Satoru’s hands slid down your body, one moved to the front to press against your clit, causing you to moan against his mouth. The other gripped your hip and started to push you down, finger on your clit rolling to distract you.

Blue eyes stared at green, Toji’s mouth formed into a sneer, eyes hardening on at Gojo interfering with his little lesson.

But fuck wasn’t it hot watching Satoru push you down to take him, feeling your pussy stretch to his girthy dick. Gojo’s mouth working against yours in a wet, messy kiss, your hands moving to grip his hair behind you and hold onto him.

The distraction was working, Toji felt you loosen up to swallow his cock to the hilt and he groaned when your warm walls hugged him. He could feel your slick running down his balls and ass, he could see Satoru’s finger running fast but light circles on your clit.

“You gonna ride him? You want my help right?” You nodded dumbly against his mouth, he chuckled against yours.

“You’re such a good girl,” his other hand left your clit so both were resting on your hips, Satoru guided you up Toji’s cock before slamming you back down. Both men heard the breath hitch in your throat, his previous gentle, caring actions and words led you into a false sense of security.

“C’mon then, ride him don’t let us down now,”

The lack of attention to your clit was short lived, Toji finally moved an arm so his thumb could press against the hardened bundle of nerves. He watched your body jolt, your hips rolling and the dips from Satoru’s fingers as he gripped your hips tighter.

“Suggest you hold onto something,” Your head finally tilted back to Toji, his deep voice filtering through but it’s his words that catch your attention.

The pink now intense across your cheeks and nose, eyes all glassy and looking at him like he was the centre of your universe.

Satoru pushed you forward so he could look down with a perfect view of Toji stretching and filling your pussy.

Your hands gripped Toji’s huge biceps, tensed under you as his hands now both gripped your thighs to hold you still.

Green eyes looked over your shoulder to meet Satoru’s.

“Hold her,”

“What?” You questioned, the trace of worry in your eyes at you looked at Toji like a doe in the headlights.

Satoru squeezed your hips, green eyes met yours and Toji smirked at you.

He withdrew before slamming back into you, the wet slap echoed around the room, his warning thrust made your breath hitch before he started to fucking rut into you.

Your nails dug into his muscle, Satoru’s grip stopping you from moving in any way and Toji’s hands on your thighs restricting you further.

“Wanna get fucked dumb huh?”

You nodded dumbly, Toji giving a hard, sharp thrust.

“Use your words,”

“Y-Yeah, fucked dumb-“ you slurred, voice jolting with each thrust and his dick kissing your cervix. You felt too full, Satoru keeping your hips pinned, Toji holding your legs left no room for him to fully slide from you. The constant short, hard fast thrusts of his dick punching into you, keeping you full quickly stirred the heat pooling in your stomach. He was pounding your g spot, hitting it within seconds of filling you.

Toji could feel you clenching around him, his breathing becoming laboured.

“Gonna cum already? Can feel that pussy suckin’ me in,”

“Hell, you’re taking his dick so well.” Satoru chimed in, confirming his words as blue eyes literally watched your pussy sucking Toji’s dick back in. Hearing that wet squelch of your cunt, the slapping of skin as Toji fucked you until you went crossed eyed, slurring words they could barely understand.

“Keep slurring n talkin’ all dumb like that princess, fuck this cunts so fucking good.” Toji growled out, he sounded feral, slamming harder into you and he watched as he took you to seen stars.

“That’s it, fuckin’ let go, give it up.”

“T-T I’m gonna -you’re gonna make me-“

The noise that left you as you came made Satoru groan behind you, you sunk forward into Toji, burying your face into his neck. In return he turned his head, one hand rising to run through your hair and grip it, twisting your head to press his lips to yours, mashing them together messily and desperately as he groaned into your mouth swallowing your noises.

Satoru pouted behind you, briefly taking his eyes from your cum forming around Toji’s cock as he used it to fuck you.

Toji was mumbling against your lips, something Satoru couldn’t hear from his place above the the loud skin slapping and cum drooling cunt being fucked just under him.

His green eyes focused on you your forehead against his, his hand in your hair keeping you close and in place, talking you through something and Satoru watched as you melted for him.

“Breath,”

“I can’t- it’s too much, you’re-“

“You can, you’re fuckin’ gonna take it. You wanted this so finish what you started so stop whinin’”

“Toji-“

“Breath. Gotta let me cum princess, this pretty pussy too fucking good to stop, you gonna help me cum yeah? Fill you up?”

You nodded dumbly.

His eyes scanned your face, Satoru’s hands left you and Toji moved in quickly, his arms hooking under yours, crossing over your shoulders, on hand remained in your hair then other cradled the back of your neck. Your hands ran through his hair. His feet planted against the sofa, keeping your forehead against his he locked eyes with you as he started to fuck upwards.

Satoru pulled at his boxers, releasing his cock as it slapped loudly against his stomach. A hand reaching out to collect the slick and cum from your inner thigh using it to rub his head, a hiss leaving him as he mixed his pre with it before fisting himself, blue eyes focused on your pussy being stretched and fucked before him.

He did notice the position Toji had put you in, ignoring the jealousy of how fucking intimate it looked.

You didn’t fuck just anyone like that. It was close, messy and focused. Fushiguro was watching you like you were feeding his soul, those green eyes glassy with something he’d never really seen in Toji. That usual hardness broke, despite his brutal fucking and harsh words it broke under that stupid fucking look in his eyes.

The thought hit Gojo at the wrong time.

This really was more than sex between you both? Why did he suddenly feel so out of place, like he shouldn’t have stepped into something like this?

“I’m cummin’ Toji -again- fuck that’s it, fuck-yeah, there! There!”

His huge arms tightened around you, biceps bulging as they hugged you so tight like he was trying to merge your souls together. His hand cradling the back of your neck tightened as he moaned out to you as you cum around his cock for a second time —this time though you brought him with you.

“Shit- m’cummin’-“

His hips pinned up to yours, he lifted from the sofa as his toes curling against it, his stomach spasmed as he coated your insides. His hips fell back against the sofa, a heavy exhale leaving him as you panted above him, light tremors starting through your body.

“Oi,” a cooler hand skimmed over your ass, up your spine and grabbing your hair to pull you back from Toji, Satoru met his eyes “-suggest you pull out, else she’s getting double stuffed.”

Satoru’s spare hand gripped your hip and encouraged you to lift from Toji, his cock slipping out with a wet, cum soaked slap to his stomach.

“Shit, what a sloppy girl you are~”

Gojo eyed your dripping, swollen hole clenching around nothing, quickly guiding the head of his dick to your entrance to stop anything coming out.

“I’ll just use his cum to fuck you huh? Thanks for warming her up-“ Gojo taunted, that cocky grin on his face as he slapped his hand across your ass watching it jiggle.

Toji seen you wince despite the moany breath that left you as Satoru bullied his cock to the hilt without any adjustment, filling you again. Your hands curled against Toji’s chest and he felt you tremble above him.

“Yeah use it-“ Toji folded his hands behind his head again, sitting back to watch. Green eyes drinking you in as you jolted forward with every wet slap and thrust, tits bouncing against his as Satoru started his round of fucking you, “-not like y’have a choice, you’ll never know her pussy without it, Gojo.”

Satoru Gojo being quiet was unheard of, if anything the man only got more hyper and put his deflection tactics up to god tier when he had something troubling him.

It was fast approaching February and a specific date in particular was causing the eccentric blue eyes some dread.

Suguru’s Birthday.

It was 1am to be exact and you’d rolled over to find the bed belonging to Satoru empty. Toji was away on a job for the next few weeks and that was your allowance to stay in Saturo’s domain.

Toji was first after all, he made that point almost weekly with some kind of remark or holding some kind of action to solidify it.

Such a weird dynamic.

You sighed as you lay flat on the large mattress looking up to the ceiling with a frown listening in the silence to see if you could guess what he was doing.

“I swear to god if he’s sleep walking again,” you mumbled, flinging the thick, warm sheets off you dramatically you swung your feet from the bed and set on mission to find the man.

Grabbing his white shirt thrown over a chair in his room you slipped it on.

Bare feet pattered through the house and you actually felt annoyed by the fact your feet were getting cold —it was the middle of winter after all.

With how silent the house was you thought Gojo had left the penthouse but a sad sigh left you when you seen a low, dull light glowing under the door to the room Suguru once occupied.

“Oh, Toru.” You whispered sadly in the empty hallway.

Your hand hovered over the door, chewing the inside of your cheek, with an inner battle as to whether you should get involved. Gojo shut down and away, he was terrible with processing emotions.

Where Toji was more than comfortable with his, being the black and white guy he was, he was surprisingly easier to deal with in that regard —you knew where you stood with him even if he wasn’t verbal with affection. If he wanted something he had it, if he didn’t he didn’t have it around him. The difficulty with Toji wasn’t his lack of ability to process, Toji was a difficult character in the ways Gojo was easy. Gojo had more morals, he wasn’t as selfish, he didn’t spit venom. Socially Toji was horrendous as well, he was rough around the edges. He was cold and distant. Gojo was more polished, a social butterfly with the charm of a prince.

If this were Toji you’d leave him alone until he came to you.

Emotions and Gojo though? Different kettle of fish.

Entirely.

He needed a hug but he didn’t want anyone close enough to allow himself to accept it.

His facade and deflection was humour, a goofball —being the kid he never could be growing up. But he dwelled in a domain of loneliness that was cured by Suguru and him alone. You always thought Gojo handled his death a little too well, avoiding the grief process.

The blue eyes knew what he wanted deep down but he was scared of having it —of losing it, again.

Plus his enormous god complex only aided his fussiness on things.

You were surprised he lasted the last 6 months in this dynamic, you were convinced he’d get bored and go back to multiple girls on the go to aid his insecurities.

But he hadn’t.

So you needed to help him.

The door opened quietly and Gojo was sat on the end of Suguru’s bed, his elbows resting on his knees, legs man spread as usual. Hands hanging loosely down and his head bowed, hair covering his eyes but through the strands you could see his eyes fixed on the floor.

He looked numb.

“Hey, Sato.”

He didn’t move when your hand ran across his bare back, “-just gonna sit next to you, s’alright yeah?”

He gave some short hum as a response but stayed fixed on his position. You sat behind him, legs sitting either side of him and wrapping your arms around his torso, resting your cheek against his huge back. It looked comical, spooning a 190cm man who was built like a god, your smaller frame behind him.

He didn’t move, even when you gave him a reassuring squeeze with your arms.

“So, I was watching this video today on these kikufuku’s with cream and edamame, they’re your favourite right? Looks easy enough to make.”

You pressed a few kisses to his back, continuing to blabber to him quietly, filling the silence you knew he was wallowing in, in this room once occupied by his best friend.

“Also, I seen this really awesome photo of that bamboo forest in Kyoto, there’s loads of snow there at the moment it looked so pretty. I haven’t been there since I was a kid! Never seen it covered in snow though, ah, I miss Kyoto it’s so pretty there.”

You shifted your legs, placing them over his thighs and he reacted, his hands moved to grip your feet and rub his thumbs over the soles in a lazy attempt of a massage.

“I ordered you a shirt too, it’s really funny. It’s got metalgreymon on it saying digimon is better than Pokémon.”

A smile twitched at his lips.

“Yeah, it is.”

“I liked that horse one, not that weird ugly ass one. The golden one.”

“Pegasusmon-“

“Yeahyeah! That one,”

Gojo chuckled at your excitement, his hands giving a firmer grip on your feet as he started to come around, crawling his way out of that numb void with a rope you’d thrown down to him.

“You’re not alone anymore, Toru, not if you don’t wanna be anyway.” You mumbled, pressing your forehead against his back.

Gojo looked over his shoulder at you, before turning in your embrace.

“Is that right?”

You gave him a goofy smile and nodded.

“Yup! But you gotta work on it as well, you gotta meet half way.”

He hummed again, eyes drifting to look at his shirt draped over you, one shoulder hanging off and the buttons undone enough to show cleavage. Nipples perking through the material, small goosebumps on your skin. Your long, smooth legs either side of him and he knew you had nothing on underneath.

His eyes drifted to your neckline, following up to your plump, pink lips.

He leaned forward causing you to lean back onto your elbows, his hand skimming up your legs, pushing the shirt up as he placed it against your hip.

He knew it was over for him the minute he finally met your eyes, those beautiful fucking eyes looking at him all glassy, yet filled with something that made his heart warm.

And for once he didn’t wanna run.

“I’m here, Satoru,”

His mouth pressed against yours the moment the words left you, the kiss was hot, messy and desperate. He moaned into you as his tongue filled your mouth, his spare hand moving to pull down his joggers clumsily, freeing his hard cock as it slapped against his stomach.

He felt needy, desperate to be in you. He pressed you into the mattress, both moaning with breathy pants as he pulled your hips towards him, dragging you down the bed. Your legs wrapping around his waist and arms around his neck, burying a hand into his hair and tugging at it.

He rolled his hips forward, running the length of his dick between your folds.

“You’re still wet from earlier huh?”

You nodded against his mouth, not letting him pull away when he went to speak. He chuckled against you, smirking against your mouth.

“Says you, look how fast you got hard.”

Satoru shrugged, his large hands holding the globes of your ass, pulling his hips back he angled the head of his dick at your entrance, pushing forward and moaning into your mouth as he entered you, feeling you stretching around his cock swallowing him to the hilt.

“Fuck, m’never gonna get over how good that feels sliding in first time.”

Your hips rolled up into his and he set a feral pace, he was sloppy, stuttering and kissed you just the same. His hands gripping and smoothing over your skin like he was trying to feel everything.

“You feel s’good Toru-hah- god you’re fucking me so well.”

“Yeah? Gonna let me fuck you like this forever? You know I can’t be without this pussy now right? She’s so sloppy for me, she’s drooling everywhere for my dick.”

You moaned and nodded desperately against him, your heart starting to race as you felt that heat pooling in your stomach, he was so close he was rubbing your clit at the same time. His hips rolling into you as he fucked his dick against your warm walls.

Slurring affection for him, your body rolling to meet his as he fucked you with an intimacy you’d never seen in him.

“You can’t leave me-“ your blurred vision started to focus, hos words bringing clarity. He face burying into your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist making you arch your back, shift your hips down at an angle so he could fuck up into you hitting that spot he was looking for.

“—you can’t leave me.” He repeated it again, slurring into your neck as his pace turned sloppy.

It was too much for him, he felt like he was going to burst, he’d never felt love but he was pretty sure this was fucking it. This unbearable warmth that spread through his chest made the feeling rushing through his dick more intense. He felt so close to cumming as well, struggling to hold on and not fill you up. He could smell you mixed in with Geto, whose scent still filled the room faintly.

But it was enough.

“M’gonna cum,” he slurred, his thrusts becoming frantic but uncoordinated as he bullied his dick into your pussy, clenching around him,

“Yeah? Gonna be a good boy for me Toru?”

“Y-Yeah m’a good boy,” he replied dumbly, chasing that high he was about to throw himself over for you —because of you.

“M’cummin’ fuck- fuck, fuck fuckkk.” He lifted his head and smashed his mouth against yours in a bruising kiss, he exhaled heavily, a whiny moan crawled at the back of his throat. Hips pinning to yours he spasmed against you as he blew his load into you until he felt it dripping past the plug of his dick.

He was breathless when he pulled from you, holding himself up now by his elbows either side of your head. His arms shaking lightly as he collected himself, his dick softening but warming in your cum filled pussy.

“Y’know-“ his voice was a little shaky and he refused to look at you, instead he was looking down at the small gap between you now, your stomach heaving and his cock still buried in you. “-I’ll settle for this, if it means I get you. But I wish it was with Suguru, cause I know he’d have taken care of you better than Fushiguro or me.”

“Gojo-“

He shook his head, you could see his jaw clenching but your eyes widened when you see the drops fall onto your stomach.

“I don’t deserve you, s’fact. But I’ll try if you don’t leave me.”

Your hands cupped his face, thumbs wiping under his eyes gently, pushing away whatever tears fell from those beautiful blue eyes.

“Can you look at me?”

You didn’t force his head up, but gave him the choice and he did, your breath hitched in your throat.

He never looked so fucking handsome. His hair was a bit messy, his eyes glistening with tears that only made them look more beautiful. His huge built towering over you as he left his cock buried in you.

Vulnerable.

This was Satoru Gojo.

And you weren’t sure if you’d finally just fallen in love with him at that exact moment.

“You deserve love, just as much as anyone else.”

Gojo slid down your body and down the bed, hands pressing to the backs of your thighs he pushed your knees up to your chest. He didn’t waste a beat, burying his head between your legs, sucking on your clit and rolling his tongue in a circle around it.

“Fuck- Satoru- holy shi-“ you hissed, hands flying into his hair and thighs trying to tighten around his head.

He could feel his cum down his own chin as it leaked from you, your hips rolled and he leaned onto you more to pin you.

He was ruthless on your clit, slurring against your pussy as he spoke.

“Gotta have you cummin’ said I gotta meet ya half way right? Fuck- tastes like us. This why Toji eat you after after he’s cum in you huh?”

Gojo > I’m taking her to Kyoto, she mentioned wanting to see the bamboo forest. So if you’re back and she’s not there, don’t worry your fat head ‘bout it . She’s only being whisked away for a romantic trip by her most handsome boyfriend <;3

Received 230am

Toji sneered as he read the message that was sent this morning, before moving into the ridiculous amount of messages you’d sent. He swore to god if you were spamming him with fucking sloth photos again, that only you thought were hilarious, he was going to block you.

Brat > Hey, so I might have accidentally knocked your gun off the side whilst house cleaning and it went off. There’s a hole in your cupboard and it went through one of your shirts. Miss your grumpy ass, can’t wait until your back, miss lil T too.

Received 1030am

Brat > well, it’s not lil is it.

Received 1031am

Brat > think I just made that all worse.

Received 1031am

Brat > okay, I lied. Satoru keeps bribing me with stupid shit else he’s gonna tell you. I didn’t knock the gun off, I was pretending to shoot at an enemy, I rolled across your bed, my feet missed the floor and pressed the trigger when I landed. I’m really sorry :( I didn’t know it was loaded. don’t be mad!

Received. 1305pm

Brat > Do you want a pic of my boobies? They’re a good distraction and you’ll magically forget all about it.

Received 1615pm

Brat > actually can I have a tiddies photo? I miss them.

Received. 1630pm

Brat > Satoru is useless at DIY, I bought a new door for your walk in cupboard, he put the handle on the inside and I can’t open it.

Received 1945pm

Toji sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, elbows resting on his knees, sat on the bed of his rented apartment for the mission.

As annoying as your nervous spamming of texts was it was never enough to actually block you, in fact he kinda enjoyed it. After all he might as well use his phone for something other than calls for jobs, and get his moneys worth for buying a more modern phone after you verbally slaughtered him for having a, in your words, a flip phone with buttons that cavemen used and would only be able to send dick pics on in the form of symbols and numbers.

Despite it all, he enjoyed your bullshit you were more tolerable than Gojo in that way, mainly because he could fuck the brat out of you when you went too far.

Not like he’d ever tell your ass that.

You two were fucking chaos.

T > shame he didn’t lock you in it.

Sent 2100pm

Brat > YOU'RE ALIVE! Thank god, I actually called a funeral director to book an arrangement for you tomorrow.

Received 2115pm

T > you mean you’re still gonna bother me when I’m dead?

Sent 2116pm

Brat > Duh, you have no friends who else is gonna arrange it? Megumi is only 18 and he’s got the emotional range of a goldfish thanks to your mean ass. He’d just set you alight in the nearest bonfire.

Received 2117pm

T > why am I with you.

Sent 2118pm

Brat > idk I ask the same thing, then I see that dreamy look when I’m sucking your dick and I have my answer <;3

Received 2119pm

T > that’s my happy face cause you’re not fucking talking. It’s a state of bliss.

Sent 2120pm

He smirked at his phone, watching the little typing bubble appear as you started your reply.

Yeah, you were his little state of bliss alright.

Gojo > enjoy another night alone, I’ll keep her happy and keep her company… with ma duuu’hickkkk. <;3

Sent 2130pm

Satoru could get fucked though, he wasn’t even sure why he tolerated him. Perhaps due to Toji’s line of work he knew you’d be protected by Satoru, after all the guy was far more powerful that him.

© pharix 2023 permission is not given to repost, translate or post anywhere else.