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that-sarcastic-writer · 1 year

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Bad Dreams

Re4R!Leon S. Kennedy X F!Reader

Summary: Leon has really bad nightmares after Spain, so you try to comfort him. This is just pwp

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it), p in v, brief fingering, riding, praise kink, slight somnophilia (she was already awake but hella sleepy), creampie, soft!dom leon, Leon has a mouth on him, the s in leon s kennedy stands for slut, leon has unresolved PTSD, language, established relationship, no use of y/n

WC: 2.3k

A/n: yall mfs are probably like but lia can u pls stop with the Leon shit. And my answer is no. I'm gonna write about that man until I get burn out of him. And since DI is coming out in July yall better get used to him. So yeah in the meantime while I finish my actual plot smut leon fics, here's this pwp to keep yall entertained, enjoy :)

Leon Kennedy Masterlist

Ao3 link (but like pls still rb and shit on here thank u)

Gif cred to this tumblr

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!

Cold, a cold, gut wrenching chill ran through his entire body. He could feel it. He could feel himself start to lose control of his mind, of his body. He was frozen, stuck in his place. Only her screams drowned the voices. Her screams, they were deafening. Heart-wrenching. He needed to save her. He had to. But he couldn't. He couldn't save her. He couldn't fucking save anyone. Don't fight it. Just give in. Let it take over. Stop fighting. There's nothing to fight for. The screams. The fucking screams..

Leon—!

Leon's eyes shot open, and he sat up just as fast. Panting, chest glistening with sweat and his hair drenched. He blinked a couple of times as if he was trying to figure out if he was still dreaming. It wasn't dark or gloomy, his bedroom wasn't cold. He realized he was in fact in his bedroom, in his apartment, and he was still alive. He took a couple of long but shaky deep breaths as he ran a hand through his hair, moving in out of his face. He looked to his right side— shit.

"Leon..?" You were still half asleep, eyes squinted as you reached out to gently grab his arm, now sitting up as well.

"Sorry. Go back to sleep babe."

"Hey," You said, now a bit more alert as you rubbed your face with one hand, "was it another nightmare?"

A month. It had been a month since he came back from Spain. And almost every fucking night he was waking himself up halfway through the night, and by extension you. He felt bad. But you didn't blame him for it, he couldn't help it. Not that you could actually convince him of it though.

"Yeah." He shook his head dismissively, eyes not meeting yours. "I'm fine."

"Do you think you can go back to sleep?" You asked softly, seeing on the clock next to his side that it was only 3:00 AM.

"Don't think so." He muttered, still not looking at you. His hands were shaking a bit, and his breathing was still uneven, like he was counting his breaths in his head at an unsteady pace. "It's fine. I'm fine."

"Leon…"

"I'm fine." He emphasized, a bit more harshly, hoping you could turn the other way and go back to sleep, to leave him to deal with his own issues. But he could never convince you of that either.

You frowned softly and without saying a single word you scooted closer to him until your chest was pressed to his arm. You left a kiss on his shoulder, and with your hand you turned his face in your direction.

"Baby, it's okay." You soothed softly, bringing your lips to his jaw. As you left kisses up his freshly shaved jaw you could feel the lock in his muscles loosen. "I'm right here. You're safe with me. You're okay."

He breathed unevenly through his nose, eyes shuttering as he turned his head fully, lips crashing against yours. Your soft gasp quickly turned into a satisfied hum. You parted your lips for him as his mouth captured yours, a large hand coming to rest at the back of your neck to bring you closer to him. You were still far too sleepy to match his intensity, but you allowed him to do as he desired. A soft grunt fell from his lips as he squeezed the back of your neck, tongue slipping into your mouth as his other hand irked up your exposed thigh— his old academy t-shirt doing very little to cover your lower half from his prying hand. But you didn't stop him, if anything you parted your thighs with ease. He groaned at this and without hesitation, he threw you over his lap, pulling you to sit on top of him.

"Mmm, you wanna ride me baby?" His tone was low, still slightly raspy from sleep, but he was anything but, he was wide awake, blue eyes big and full of need, desperate, desperate for your comfort and love. You were nodding in an instant. "Yeah? You think you can do that pretty girl?"

"Uh huh." You mumbled as you looked at him through half lidded eyes, not being able to help rubbing yourself against his clothed cock.

He exhaled unevenly through his nose, fingers squeezing your bare thighs as he lifted your hips enough to pull down your panties. He was settling you back on his crotch in an instant and you whined as soon as your clit brushed against the soft material of his boxer briefs. Leon hissed softly, bringing two fingers up to your lips. He raised his eyebrows at you, eyes commanding you without having to say the words. You happily parted your lips and he pushed the two fingers into your mouth. He hummed, watching you intently, lip pulled under his teeth as you coated his fingers with your saliva.

"Mmm yes, good." He hummed as he pulled his fingers from your mouth and instantly pressed his soaked fingers against your clit. He watched with pride as your lips fell open as he spread the wetness over the sensitive bud before he circled them around your entrance. "Fuck, did I tell you how much I missed this pussy? Wanna fuck this pussy so bad baby."

"Oh Leon— yes— please… Mhmm—!" His fingers slipped into your wet core with ease. The way he could so easily manipulate your body into submission, into needing him, it was beyond comprehension. But you didn't need to understand it. You just wanted him to use you for comfort, you wanted to make him forget. "Please Leon. Please let me ride you now."

His response was closer to a guttural groan than to any words, but he happily complied. His fingers left you as he attempted to tug down his boxer briefs, you lazily lifted your hips enough for him to pull out his cock. A heavy sigh left his lips as his cock slapped against his stomach. He reached to grab a hold of your hips, but you placed your hands on his chest and gently made him lie on his back. He looked at you with big eyes, a bit surprised by your eagerness, but fuck he'd be damned if he complained. A soft smirk tugged at his lips as he watched you clumsily and a bit messily position yourself above him, coating his cock in your slick.

"Ah— Shit, c'mon baby. C'mon." He spoke through exhales, trying his best not to force you down on his cock himself. But you were sleepy, so tired but still wanting to please him, you could take your time. And you did a minute or so later, he watched with parted lips as you slowly sank down on his cock until only a little bit was left, but he knew you couldn't fit all of him. "Ohhh yes. Yes good girl. Fuck."

"Oh— mhmm! Fuck Leon." You whimpered, nails digging into his chest as you rocked your hips, eyes already closed as you adjusted to the feeling of him before you were lifting yourself up enough to slam down on his cock, again, and again.

"Oh my sweet girl, you're doing so well," the praise came through a breathy moan, his eyes only half lidded as he watched you bounce on his cock, one hand gripping your hip and his other arm was behind his head. "Mhmm yeah, fuck yourself on my cock baby— ah— yeah, just like that."

You were trying, god you were fucking trying. Fucking yourself on Leon like your life depended on it, your moans almost as pathetic as your attempts at keeping up with the pace you both wanted and needed. Poor thing, you were holding for dear life, body over Leon's, clutching the arm under his head as your hips moved. And Leon? He didn't even look like he was breaking a sweat.

"Ugh— mhm fuck… Leon.." You were whining desperately into Leon's neck, every muscle in your body aching with heat. He could hear the shift in your voice, you weren't just whining, no, you were asking him. "Leon."

"What do you need, baby?" He moved your face from his neck, eyebrows furrowed with concern as he could feel your pace start to slow. "Why'd you stop?"

"'M sorry.. I wanna.." Oh, he got it. You wanted him to do it. A small smirk pulled at his lips. "Can you…"

"Oh pretty girl. Are you tired? I'm sorry baby, I'm sorry I woke you. But don't worry, I'm still gonna fuck you to sleep." He wrapped an arm around your torso, holding you firmly as he sat up. He moved to sit on his knees, your legs tightly wrapped around his waist. He snapped his hips, your body bouncing in his grip. Your face fell into his neck again, crying out when his cock brushed against that sensitive spot inside your walls. "Yeah, right there?"

Again, again, and again. He held you around his hips, making sure you felt each rock of his hips, and every time his cock hit your most sensitive spot.

"Yes! Fuck Leon— oh God— yes, don't stop please!"

You didn't even have to tell him. He'd be damned if he stopped before he could feel the squeeze of your tight walls, before he could hear the lewd sound of his cock slapping against your wet cunt. Never. He'd die first. He held you tight, one arm still firm over your back, pressing your chest against his, while the other hand was deep in your hair, pulling just as hard as you were pulling his.

"Mhmm I wouldn't dream of it, baby. Not gonna stop until you're screaming my name, shaking when you come— ah— can already feel it." He moaned every word, his own need for release slipping. Only you could make him lose control like this, only you could be both his instability and his comfort. It made you want to give in, all of yourself, to him. "Look at you, holding me so tight, taking me so fucking well. God. You're so goddamn perfect— agh—"

"Mmmm please… please Leon, I wanna come." You were whining the words into his neck, nails digging into his back as you held on for dear life, his punishing thrusts not once letting up, only getting you closer to falling apart.

"I'm gonna make you come, don't worry." He breathed out a laugh, lips pressed to your hair as he sneaked a hand between your bodies, slick fingers pressing down on your swollen clit. It didn't take much more for you to fall into a shuddering fit of sobs, nails digging into his shoulder blades and toes curling as your wetness seeped around his cock. "Mhmm yes, fuck yes. Good girl."

He used his other arm to pull your body up as it slouched against his chest. He only chuckled breathlessly as your body gave out on top of him as soon as you orgasm washed over you. He held you firmly as he drilled into you, now chasing his own release. His eyes were screwed shut, blonde hair sticking to his forehead as he pressed his face into your chest, rasped whimpers falling from his lips.

"Ahh— Fuck, your pussy— God— can't get enough of it. I don't ever want to leave this room. You're the only good thing in this fucked up world. The prettiest— mhm fuck." He knew he all he was saying is nonsense, and he knew you weren't fully listening, still half asleep and utterly fucked out, but you were still conscious enough to whimper his name. Like weak praises, weak and pathetic, but fuck, it was the prettiest sound he'll ever hear. "Shit. Fuck. Gonna come baby— ah yes— say my name just like that. Mhmm fuuuck."

Leon held you down on his cock, hips slightly twitching in aftershock as he spilled himself inside you with a guttural moan of your name that almost made you want to come again right then and there. It was silent for a long while as you simply held each other. His face on your chest and yours on top of his mess of bed/sex hair, and he was hugging close, damn near bear hugging you. You didn't want to move him. You knew if there was something he needed in this world was to feel safe. And you would burn the whole world just to give him that.

"Thank you." You finally heard his voice, it was mumble, almost muffled by your (his) t-shirt. You irked up an eyebrow, eyes hooded as you opened them to look at him.

"For what?" You mumbled quietly, sleep and tiredness slowly taking over you again. He lifted his head, there was this tiny smile on his face. He moved you both around until he was laying on his back again and you were laying on his chest, only then he answered.

"For making me feel… safe." He paused for a few seconds before saying the word, and you could hear the lightheartedness in his voice. Like he no longer felt that tug on his chest, or that pull in his head. For now at least. "I'm never going to forget the things that I've seen and done, I might have nightmares for the rest of my fucking life, but… when I'm with you I feel like.. Like I can breathe so.. Thank you."

You rested your hands on his chest as you leaned up enough to press a kiss to his lips. It was slow, gentle and loving. He had only started to learn about those things when he met you.

"I love you Leon." You sighed happily, nuzzling your face into his neck. He hummed softly, inhaling the scent of your hair, the fresh lavender and vanilla comforting him in the best way possible. He pressed a kiss to your hair and closed his eyes.

"I love you. And I don't think you'll ever understand just how much you mean to me."

He had nightmares every night, every night since Raccoon City. But on some nights with you, he would sleep through the night happily.

#leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you

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luveline · 1 year

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ARE YOU TAKING REQUESTS FOR HOTCH????? I-OH MY please write super fluffy domestic vibes with hotch? Just the reader being super tired late at night waiting for him and still taking care of him when he gets home? Like taking his coat and shoes off and offering him a hot bath?

Maybe he just can't help but melt and get all soft around her?

You can ignore this if you wish to! Dw! Love your writing<3

thank you for your request!! hotch x tired fem!reader

Your head feels cloudy and heavy as a bowling ball when you hear the apartment door creak open. You lift your head, your neck protesting its soreness, and wipe the little line of dribble from your chin as Aaron turns the gentle corner into the lounge.

"You're still up," he says.

"Can't let my man come home to nothing," you say, or try to say, rubbing your eyes as you stand on wobbly footing.

He swoops in for a hug. You love this part of being with him. You'd thought it was the drunkenness of a new relationship at first, but it never went away. When it's you and him alone, Aaron adores you unapologetically.

"You're so tired," he says, his voice tipping gently into teasing.

"I'm not," you argue.

He doesn't believe you, clearly, a light behind his eyes that says, Yeah, right. You don't need him to believe you to take care of him, unfortunately for him. You lean back in the circle of his arms and give his neck a light, loving scratch, fingertips curving down his throat to the snug collar of his t-shirt. You work your way into his perfectly knotted tie and ease it loose.

His hand does some unworking all its own, kneading into the rigid line of your aching back with care. "You're tense," he says.

"I'm a bit sore," you admit.

"Sleeping sitting up does that to you." Profiler.

"Stop, stop cheating," you say, pulling the tie from his neck and laying it over your shoulder. "I hate this button. I don't know how you get it undone without me, it's always snug."

"Good thing you're here to do it for me," he says. Trust him to guard his secrets.

You pop his first button, then his second, and rub the red indent the starched collar has pressed into his neck with over-exaggerated concern.

"You might be better at pretending than I am, but I can still tell when you're tired, Hotchner."

He tightens his hold around your waist. "What did we say about Hotchner?" he asks, his voice rough and warm at once. He sounds as though he could tip into salaciousness if you only did it first.

"I don't remember," you say.

"I'm sure you don't."

He grabs your cheek. Grab is too cruel a word, but cup is too soft. He takes your face into his hand, the breadth of his palm drowning your face, warm and solid and breathtakingly tender as he turns your face and leans in. He kisses the corner of your mouth.

Your breath catches as he kisses lower. His lips trail to your jaw, just under it, the skin beneath your ear.

"I made you dinner," you say, pulling him back carefully, your hand in his hair. He doesn't fight it. "I know you're hungry."

"I'm trying to seduce you," he says, clear entertainment in his tone. You love this Aaron most of all, much better than his dominant work personality, or his quieter seductions. Playful, loving Aaron is his sweetest mode.

"I know, and I'm trying to make sure you don't keel over and die before you reach fifty."

"That won't happen. You're keeping me young."

"Oh, really?" You squeeze his bicep. "How am I doing that?"

"I'd tell you, but I don't think you're in the mood," he says, still playful.

He really does sound younger when he's with you. You've heard him sometimes down the phone giving orders or correcting his colleagues, and it's different to this. He lives for his job, but he's happier when he's with you. It's not something you take lightly.

"I could be in the mood," you say.

He chuckles and kisses your cheek. "Not tonight. You're falling asleep on your feet, and I'm not far behind you."

"You'll eat dinner though, won't you?"

"If you eat with me."

Aaron absolutely won't let you take his shoes off, which is a disappointment but unsurprising. He does, however, allow you to flit around him at the kitchen table, warming his plate and pouring him a small glass of scotch. By some miracle he eats all of it, and only drinks a sip of the scotch by another. He trades his short glass for a bottle of water, and his dark suit for freshly washed pyjamas, trailing after you in the dimly lit hallway to your shared bedroom with his fingers woven in yours obligingly.

You wonder if he'd let you brush his teeth for him. Weirdly, you know if you asked him to, he'd brush your teeth for you. You can imagine it, your chin pinched in one hand as he looks down at you, his other guiding gentle circles. You file the daydream away for another night and get through this one easily enough, you and Aaron hip to hip, his elbow on your shoulder.

Aaron lifts his hand, drawing a circle around your ear absentmindedly. After what seems to be an internal debate, he takes your ear lobe between his index and middle fingertips and gives it a soft tug.

You glare at him, toothbrush between your lips, toothpaste foaming at the corners of your mouth. His returning grin makes you feel like the prettiest girl on Earth.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

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TAKE CARE OF YOU [3]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 4,501

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It's why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn't look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn't be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: I'm feeling Fridays for the update day, but i'm not married to that idea yet. also thank you for all the love this has seen so far!! I am so happy to know I'm not the only one that would sell my soul to have Joel Miller as my sugar daddy.]

03: YOU THINK MY VOICE IS PRETTY?

"the way his voice sounds, or the words he speaks, i can never decide what pulls me in more." -butterflies rising

‘Morning, sugar’.

You chuckled at the term of endearment and leaned back in your seat. The other people on the bus surrounding you were living their own lives as always. You recognized many of your routine bus neighbors. The woman who ate an onion bagel every single morning on her way to work, the man who still read an actual newspaper rather than use his phone, the brother and sister duo⏤only teens⏤ on their way to school. You wondered how these people classified you in their head.

‘Morning to you too⏤’ You paused. Should you call him ‘daddy’ again? Saying it teasingly was one thing, but typing it somehow made it seem more permanent. Which was a stupid thought to have, but it was the one that plagued you nonetheless. You deleted your words and started again. ‘Morning! How⏤’ Again, you froze. Was the exclamation mark too much for this early in the morning? It was only yesterday that you made this deal with him and it would be sad for you to annoy him so early in the deal. Delete. Repeat. ‘Joel⏤’ Way too formal. Okay. You were officially over thinking this.

‘Hey! How’s your morning going?’

The moment you hit send that dumb little anxiety riddled voice at the back of your head tried to criticize your choice of words and you had to wrestle it back down. Almost immediately you saw the text bubble of dots pop up as he typed.

‘Great. First meeting got canceled. You?’

It was marginally funny to you that the man who owned this huge company seemed so dead set on avoiding meetings. Plus, it was kind of cute that he was more comfortable in flannel than suits.

‘Just on the bus heading to work!’

The text bubble popped up immediately, then disappeared, then came back, then disappeared once more. As you waited for it to return, his name filled the entire screen as he called you. Your eyes widened in surprise. After getting past your shock, you answered, “Uh, hi.”

“Sorry, repeat that for me.” Joel’s voice was nearly drowned out by a bunch of noise that you’d have to guess dealt with some kind of construction. “You’re on the ‘what’ heading ‘where’?”

“Bus? Work?” You replied in confusion.

Joel cleared his throat and he must have been moving since the noise simmered down. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you said, darlin’. Can I ask why?” The sound that left your mouth was a good representation of your broken brain. “Because I’m pretty sure you and I made a deal yesterday. Didn’t we?”

“We did.” You said slowly. “But⏤”

“Darlin’⏤”

“In my defense, I can’t just quit work. I respect Henry too much. I have to at least give him a two weeks notice so he can find a replacement.” You argued. Even if Henry wasn’t someone you considered family you’d still feel obliged to quit the correct way. Still, maybe that was something you should’ve mentioned yesterday before the two of you parted ways. “Sorry, Joel.”

He let out a small sigh. “There’s no need to be sorry. I understand. You’re too responsible for your own good.” You chuckled. “But the bus? The bus?”

You had to resist the urge to laugh at how insulted he was at the prospect of you on public transportation. You glanced over your shoulder out the window to see how far from work you were. “Well, ubers and taxis are so expensive from my house to the bakery. Plus, I have a bus card!”

“Bus card?” Joel repeated. His incredulous voice took an amused tone. “Sugar, you got daddy’s credit card.” Your eyes widened and you felt your entire face burn as heat filled your cheeks. As if somebody would be listening in, you glanced around at the people sitting near you. Joel chuckled, the sound low and deep, “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

“I, uh, I⏤ That’s a good point.” You cleared your throat. “It felt silly using the card for something like an Uber or taxi though. You know?”

“Nothin’ is too silly. I want you to use that card. All the time. Understand?”

“I understand.”

“I understand…” Joel repeated with enunciation at the end. Waiting for something. Waiting for…

“I’m on the bus.” You whispered into the phone, in shock, while covering your mouth.

Joel hummed. “Oh, I know. Now. I understand…”

You chewed on your lower lip, glanced around, then whispered into the phone quickly, “I understand, daddy.”

“Sorry, sugar. Couldn’t quite hear you there. Must be because of how loud and hectic that bus is.”

Your lips curled up into a broad grin as your face continued to burn. He cleared his throat to urge you on, and you shook your head with a slight chuckle. You blew out an amused breath and repeated yourself. “Yes. I understand, daddy.”

An older woman sitting to your left shot you a curious glance and you sunk in your seat, and turned toward the window to laugh. You could hear Joel’s breathy laugh over the line as well. Joel spoke up, “That’s better. As for this transport problem,” You rolled your eyes still grinning, “Can you drive?”

“Well, yeah.” You replied and the smile fell as a thought occurred to you. “That is not a reason to buy me a car.”

“Wow, you really think I’d buy you a car right out the gate like that?”

“Oh. Right. Sorry. I⏤” You paused then shook your head. “Wait, no, actually I do. I do think you’d do that.”

“You’re right. I would. You got a preference, sugar?”

“Please do not buy me a car.” You blurted. “I… I really don’t like driving around this city. Last time I even got behind a wheel was over two years ago.”

“Fine. No car. I’m gettin’ you a driver then.”

“That still feels excessive.” You replied hesitantly.

“Do it for me then? I’d feel more comfortable knowin’ you’re not ridin’ around with strangers.”

The words were spoken with kindness, actual concern, and a part of you wondered if he was saying what he was because it was expected of him? The deal was for him to take care of you and keeping you safe could arguably fall under that umbrella of responsibilities. You just found it hard to believe he’d care out of the goodness of his heart considering how little time you had spent with one another thus far. It wasn’t a criticism of him at all. Maybe he was just that kind deep down, maybe he did have a bleeding heart. It was the process of trying to apply that thought, those concerns, to yourself that felt silly. At the end of the day, that voice of anxiety just couldn’t fathom a near stranger actually worrying over your well being with no ulterior motive of their own.

Joel said your name over the line, snapping you out of your line of thought, and you forced your smile to return. It wasn’t hard to find. “Alright. For you.”

“Good.” He blew out a breath of what almost sounded like relief. “What time does your shift end?”

“It’s Sunday so I usually close up the shop around 5:30, then pack away all the leftovers to take to the shelter a few blocks away.” You replied. Anytime the shop had any leftovers, which was happening more and more, Henry would donate the goods to the local shelters and kitchens rather than toss it.

“I’ll have my guy there around 5 then. I don’t want you waitin’ on him.”

“Yeah, but now he’ll have to wait on me.”

“I know. That’s the point, darlin’.”

You couldn’t decide which you liked more. Joel calling you ‘sugar’ or ‘darlin’. Then again the sound of your name was equally as intoxicating. Honestly, it wasn’t fair how good his voice sounded in general. The bus peeled off to the side to come to a stop and you hiked your bag up your shoulder to get off.

“I’m at my stop.”

“Say good-bye to the bus. You ain’t ridin’ on it again as far as I’m concerned.” You chuckled and as you walked off you couldn’t help but glanced back at the familiar people you had gotten used to seeing so often. You mentally wished them a farewell. It was cheesy, but it nearly felt like the end of an era. Joel spoke again as you stepped onto the busy sidewalk. “And remember, my guy is pickin’ you up today. No ubers. No taxis. No buses.”

“I know, I know. I promise I won’t make a run for it.”

“Good girl.” Joel chuckled and your face immediately went warm once more. A habit you were beginning to pick up around this man. Joel said quick good-byes, saying he needed to help someone out on site and promised to text you later. You echoed his sentiments and tucked the phone away after hanging up. Wow, okay, it seemed hearing him call you ‘good girl’ won in a fucking landslide.

As it turned out, Henry had come in early to bake for the day, but left it open for you to set out as he hadn’t been feeling well and had to leave before you even got the shop fully open. It was incredibly poor timing because you planned to announce your two week’s notice to him and that seemed like a dick move to do while he was sick. Tomorrow. You’d try again tomorrow. No big deal. What would a one day difference make?

The bakery always had it’s busiest days on Sunday, weirdly, but still it was nowhere near the kind of traffic this place truly needed. Usually days where it ended up being you alone were even more painfully boring, but today had been, well, fun. Joel continued to text you through the day and the conversation was a decent distraction from the dichotomy of doing nothing between customers. Plus, without Henry there, you didn’t even have to pretend like you weren’t playing on your phone the entire time.

The last hour of your shift had gone by without Joel as a distraction because of a meeting. One he had grumbled about twenty minutes prior to it. You were in the process of packing items away when you noticed a black SUV sitting outside on the side of the road. Pausing in your work, you ran your hand down your apron and made your way out of the shop and toward it. You had just planned to tap on the window to get his attention, but you were barely halfway to the SUV when the man behind the driver’s seat jumped out and hurried around with a nod.

“Ma’am.”

“Hi.” You gave a small wave. “I’m⏤”

The blond man blurted your name out with a nod. Of course he knew who you were. “Is there anything I can do to help you, Miss?”

“No, no. I wanted to invite you in! It’ll be a minute before I’m done.”

“It’s alright⏤”

“I insist.” You said firmly. He hesitated once more before going to turn the car off. He was older than you, if you had to guess, and he wore a clean, black suit and a pair of dark aviators over his eyes. If he had a little radio in his ear you’d have him pegged as some kind of secret service guard. “What’s your name?”

“Riley Talbot, ma’am.”

You motioned for him to take a seat at one of the tables with a smile. “Well, Mr. Talbot, you have a muffin preference?”

“Just Riley is fine, and you don’t have to⏤”

“Either you tell me your muffin preference or I’m gonna pick at random, Riley.” You replied then ran through the options you had today. Riley hesitantly told you his preference for the banana nut option and you brought it over for him on a small plate. The man took his sunglasses off, tucking them into his inner suit pocket, and you took note of his very blue eyes. “How long have you worked for, Joel?”

Riley shrugged. “I’ve been working for Mr. Miller for the last five years.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Five years as a driver for Joel? You couldn’t imagine Joel using a driver. The man who preferred flannels over suits seemed like the kind who was adamant about driving himself. Plus, this wasn’t the person who had picked you up yesterday. How many did he have?

“Well, give me a second here and we can head out. I just gotta finish packing up today’s leftovers.”

“Please, take your time.” Riley nodded then motioned to the muffin. “And thank you.”

You left him to enjoy his snack in peace so you could go back to cleaning out the display stand. It was repetitive, simple work that you had gotten very used to doing mindlessly over the years. You were on the last row of cookies when your phone buzzed in your back pocket. Pulling it out you saw it was a text from Joel.

‘Did Riley show up?’

‘Yupp. He’s in the bakery eating a muffin right now.’

‘You didn’t need to feed him, sugar.’

‘Too late. Besides, that’s one less muffin for me to carry now.’

‘Put it on my tab.’

You rolled your eyes, as if a singular banana nut muffin was of significant cost, ‘Shouldn’t you be focusing on your meeting?’

There was a longer pause before you got a response.

‘Touche’

You chuckled under your breath and tucked the phone away once more. After stacking a few of the boxes on top of one another, you shrugged out of your apron to hang it back up on the wall. Riley had risen from his seat and you took the plate from him before he could argue otherwise. You gave it a quick wash before setting it away to dry for the night and when you returned Riley was still standing by the boxes of baked goods.

“I’m almost done. I’m gonna carry these down to the shelter.”

“I’ll help.” Riley replied.

“You don’t have to do that⏤”

Riley gave you a friendly smile. “It’s my pleasure. Mr. Miller was adamant about me helping out where I could.”

Knowing arguing was only going to stretch this process out you nodded and he took half the boxes. At least this would save you a second trip. As the two of you made your way down the street you learned that he was older than you, in his mid thirties, and he had been in the Marines before picking up work with Joel. It was actually through Riley that you learned Joel had a brother who had also been in the military as well. You’d have to ask him about that.

“I’ve been saving to buy a ring.” Riley shrugged as you both got onto the topic of relationships while on your way back from dropping off the boxes.

“If your girlfriend is as sweet as you claim I’m sure she’d be charmed by anything you got her.” You argued. “And how long have the two of you been dating?”

“Three years next month.”

“Aw, congrats!” You chirped.

Riley continued to gush about his girlfriend and how she worked as a kindergarten teacher. The way his voice held so much love for the woman he bragged about to you made your heart ache. You had always thought this was how your last relationship would look like. You and your ex-boyfriend had been on a similar path after all. When he broke up with you six months ago, the two of you had been weeks away from your three year anniversary. For the longest time, he had been the one you thought you’d be marrying.

And here you were today with a sugar daddy on speed dial.

Funny how life worked.

“Let me grab my stuff and lock up and I’ll be right back out.” You said and Riley agreed with a nod before heading to the SUV himself. Maybe you’d text Nima and see if she was busy tonight. It had been a long time since you thought about your ex and letting him slip back into your head had been a dumb move on your part.

Once out, Riley held the back door of the SUV open for you to slide into. He asked for your address which you provided before settling back in your seat. The radio played a soft tune, you couldn’t hear the roaring of the roads outside, the air smelled clean, and you had ample space to stretch out. This was a far cry from the bus. Nima texted you back, answering your request for drinks tonight, but she had to turn it down because she had a date. Though she did follow it up to ask if you were feeling well and that she’d bail if you needed a girls’ night. You smiled at her words, but reassured her that everything was fine.

‘Hang out with your daddy! 🤪’

Despite the teasing nature of her text, she may have been onto something. Riley was getting closer to your apartment complex and you leaned forward a bit. “Hey, Riley?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know what time Joel usually gets off of work?”

“It depends. I think he mentioned today he was gonna be working late. That’s why he sent me instead of coming to get you himself.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. It hadn’t dawned on you that Joel wanted to be the one to pick you up and just hadn’t been able to due to his own work. Still, that shot your back up plan in the face. That was probably for the best. You didn’t want to come across as clingy. Though, maybe you were supposed to? Joel said there was no social quota for you to meet, but you doubted the validity of that.

“Thanks, Riley!” You said after exchanging numbers with him and climbing out of the SUV.

Your apartment was nothing to write home about, but it could be worse. It was a simple one bed, one bath on the fifth floor of a complex that had technically seen better days. However, despite the age and general weariness of the building itself, the residents you lived beside were nice, the owner actually cared about the people renting from him, and security was decent. More so than the other places in this area.

After dropping your stuff down and tossing your keys into the bowl near your front door, you pulled out your phone to see you had missed a text from a few minutes ago. ‘You home?’ Quickly, you responded with a positive and thanked him again for sending Riley to pick you up. ‘Good. Don’t thank me, sugar’.

You rolled your eyes. If he really thought you were going to accept things without thanking him he was dead wrong. Hell, you were struggling with the ‘accepting things’ part which was hilarious considering you had chosen and agreed to this deal with full knowledge of what that meant. You set down your phone to clean the work day off of your skin.

A few hours had passed, where you showered, changed into home clothes, ate, and then settled on the couch with a large glass of wine. Despite it only being close to nine you were almost considering chugging the remainder of the wine in your glass and calling it a night. You had work in the morning after all. As you brought the glass to your lips, your phone buzzed off to the side.

The text was from Joel. It was simple, and honestly hilarious to see.

‘You up?’

Your cheeks warmed and you wondered if he knew the connotations of texting a woman that message with no warning at night.

‘Yes lol I am up’

‘Can I call?’

Your eyes widened in surprise at the request. You took another rather large sip of your wine before setting it down on your coffee table and responding to him. The affirmative text hadn’t been sent longer than a few seconds when his name flashed across your screen. You had gotten used to mostly texting the people in your life rather than phone calls. This would take some getting used to.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sugar.” Joel breathed. “Sorry for calling late.”

“It’s hardly late.” You glanced at your clock on the wall. 9:07. “Are you just getting home from work? Riley said you’d be stuck there late.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately. Every once in a while I’m stuck in the office all day like this. At least I got to be on site this mornin’.” He groaned.

It sounded like he was pouring something on his end of the line. You commented on it, “Are you making yourself a drink?”

“Mhmm.” Joel took a sip of whatever it was he had poured, you could hear him swallow and made your throat dry up. “That alright?”

“Hey, I’m on my second glass of wine so I can hardly judge.”

“Second? You have a long day, sugar?” He asked in concern. Again, the sound of it caught you off guard. You could count on one hand the number of people who showed you genuine concern in the last two years. “Everythin’ okay?”

You forced out a chuckle and nodded despite him not being able to see it. “I’m fine.” It was probably a little early to be flooding him with your problems and the history of your ex. Instead, you jumped over it entirely. “I was actually gonna ask if you wanted to get dinner or drinks, but when I asked Riley what time you got off he said you’d be working late.”

“What?” Joel asked in surprise. He grumbled under his breath before speaking up. “Don’t ever let that stop you, darlin’. I always got time for you. Honestly, it would've been a nice surprise and a good excuse to leave early.”

You let out a soft laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“You better.” Joel grunted as he dropped down into a seat. Another tired sigh left his lips and you opened your mouth to suggest that he get some rest, but he beat you to speaking. “Tell me about your day, sugar.”

“It was pretty boring.” You replied. “You’ve seen how empty the bakery tends to get.”

“So? I still wanna hear. Talk about somethin’ at least. Lemme hear that pretty voice.”

You grinned to yourself. “You think my voice is pretty?”

“I think everythin’ about you is pretty. Now, no more stallin’. Hit me with it.”

If he wanted to hear about your boring day you’d be more than happy to indulge him. His words still caught you off guard though. He liked your voice? It was extra funny considering how much you liked his voice personally. You talked about the few customers you did have today, how thankful the shelter had been for Henry’s leftovers, and getting to know Riley.

“Yeah, Riley is a good guy.” Joel agreed. “Figured the two of you would get along. Plus,” He took another sip of the whiskey he had told you he chose as his drink earlier, “I know he’s head over heels for that girl of his so I didn’ have to worry about him makin’ a move on you.” You laughed at the sentiment and Joel let out a small chuckle himself. “I ain’t kiddin’, sugar. I only just got you to agree to put up with me. I ain’t plannin’ on losing you quite yet.”

“Put up with you.” You scoffed. “As if I don’t equally enjoy talking to you.”

Joel chuckled in response then cleared his throat. “How’d it go with your boss? How’d he take the news?” Your smile turned sheepish and rather than answer you picked up your wine glass, now at the end of your third, and took a long sip. Joel sighed. “Sugar?”

“Okay, so, hold on.” You blurted. “He was sick today. Henry left like right after coming in to help me open and I didn’t wanna spring the news on him when he already felt so terrible.” You set the wine glass down then buried yourself into the couch under your blanket. “I’m already worried I’m gonna break his heart.” Joel blew out a sigh and you winced. “Sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t.” Joel responded, but it wasn’t sharp or demanding. He just didn’t want to hear you apologize. “I want you to stop workin’ because I think you’d be happier out of that place, but I’m not tryin’ to shove you into quittin’ if you ain’t comfortable with it yet, darlin’. If…” Joel paused. “If you think you need to stay there a little while longer then I’m not gonna guilt you otherwise.”

His words made your lips curl up into a small, soft smile. It wasn’t that you loved your work there by any means, but you did love Henry. He was family. Plus, that small voice of anxiety was still nagging loud enough that you couldn’t quite fully ignore it. This was still so new. What if Joel got to the end of this week and decided you were more annoying than entertaining. You couldn’t just tear up your roots with no guarantee that this life was fully concrete.

You didn’t know if Joel understood that from the same angle you did, but you did appreciate that he was willing to bend on that topic. “Yeah.” You said quietly then added in a teasing inflection added, “Thanks, daddy.”

Joel chuckled in response, “You’re gonna be the death of me, sugar.”

You remembered a topic you had planned on asking him earlier in the day, and maybe it was the three glasses of wine that had loosened your tongue, but you blurted it out without thinking. “So, hey, I hear you have a brother?” Joel was quiet for a beat and it was only then that sober logic regained control. “I mean, I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to blurt it out like that. Riley mentioned he was in the military and that you had a brother who was too. I didn't mean to pick at a sore topic if⏤”

“No, sugar.” Joel chuckled. “Not a sore topic. Just caught me off guard is all. But, yeah, I got a baby brother. Tommy.” Tommy Miller. You tucked the information away in the folder of facts you were learning about Joel. “He was in the Army for a while, but left a long time ago. He actually works with me now at the company. Was with me when we went from small time contractors to whatever the hell we are now.”

“Big deals.” You joked. “If your fancy building is anything to go by.”

“Guess so by someone’s definition.” Joel snorted. You liked that he still felt so grounded and to the earth. It had been part of the reason his proposition caught you off guard because after meeting him you never would’ve suspected him to be the kind who owned a large and very rich company.

“You’re not mad that Riley told me that, are you?” You asked. “Because if you are, I'll admit to wrestling the information out of him.”

Joel laughed. “I ain’t mad, darlin’. Like I said, I’m glad the two of you get along. You’re stuck with him now.” You hummed in confusion and Joel added. “He’s your driver. Anywhere you need to go, any time, just call him.”

“Wait, seriously?” You cried.

“I told you I ain’t letting you get on a bus again.” Joel replied like he was still appalled you had done so this morning. “And since you won’t let me buy you a car…”

“Fine, fine, fine.” You blurted and he let out a soft laugh. A beat of silence stretched between the two of you, but it was a comfortable one. The kind where you just enjoyed knowing he was on the other end of the call even if he wasn’t actively speaking.

You accidentally let out a small yawn and Joel hummed. “You need to get to bed.”

“Nuh uh.” You replied. “It’s only…” You found the clock and your eyes widened. 12:01. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. I’ve kept you up long enough, sugar.”

“I’m not even tired.” You whined and rose to your feet. The stiff movements made you realize how close you had been to just passing out on the couch.

“Sure, you ain’t.”

You meandered to your bedroom, flipping out lights as you went, and shut your bedroom door. “Will we talk again tomorrow?”

“You mean later today?” Joel joked.

You chuckled. “Yes.” It didn’t even matter to you that you may have sounded needy. Being on the phone had not only been fun, but it had been just what you needed to settle the turmoil you had accidentally scourged up earlier. “So?”

“Course, sugar. I’ll text you on your way to work. Riley’ll be there at 6:30 to pick you up.”

“Alright. Night, Joel.” You replied sincerely. “Thanks for talking to me.”

Joel hummed and you could hear him moving around on his end as well. “Should be thanking you.” He added quickly, a tinge or nervousness seeping into his voice. “Hey, do you wanna, uh, you wanna plan for dinner?” Your eyes widened marginally but your lips spread out into another warm and wide grin. “I got a few more busy days, but this Wednesday I’ll be free all evening. Wanna make a night of it?”

“Yes!” You answered much faster than you had initially planned. There went being cool and collected. Joel chuckled. “I mean, yeah. That would be⏤ That would be fun.”

“Good. Get some sleep, sugar.” Joel replied. You wished him well before the call ended and you were left standing in your bedroom feeling like you were on cloud nine.

taglist:

@weddingfairy @bfences @jasminedragon @biwitchy @huffle-punk @shelbyteller @anoverwhelmingdin @aheadfullofsteverogers @stagerightlauren @basicoccult @rinnfey @boofy1998 @farintonorth @thepascalofus @amatis-gray @casa-boiardi @northernbluess @jettia

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✨J.M. Masterlist✨

#the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #modern au #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #sugar daddy!joel miller #reader insert #female reader

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olderthannetfic · 6 months

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Can I poke the bear for a moment and get angry? Because I'm seeing "posting as activism" more and more in fandom spaces, and tonight I saw a post that made me lose it.

There is a post about (current events) going around that says, "full offense, but in this time, your own comfort doesn't fucking matter, you should be uncomfortable about things that are happening, and I hope you can fucking live with yourselves if you are quiet. It takes five seconds to retweet or reblog, fuck your aesthetic, fuck your anything aesthetic."

And my god. How dare they.

Yes, there is severely fucked up shit happening. Yes, people should be aware that people are being killed. Yes, there are people who are just shrugging about it and pissing off. But how does reblogging a post certify someone as Good or Bad? How does this person know that someone hasn't already helped out meaningfully in some way, or is still helping out, but on other websites? How does this person know that someone isn't barely holding on by the skin of their teeth, and they would have a mental breakdown if they got closer to any more stressful things?

I know a multitude of people, including myself, who have recently either needed to call lines, check into facilities, move back in with their parents, or go on medication because of how insane things have become in their own lives. How does this person not understand that blogging; being on tumblr; engaging in fandom, having a small space that someone can control in its entirety, is a reprieve for people who are already at their wit's end outside of that space? And that's okay.

(We are not doing the relative privation shit in this house. I refuse to entertain that.)

Ironically, by insisting that people participate in sharing posts when they're already stressed and exhausted, that's a surefire way to make their problems worse, and potentially prevent them from acting helpfully in the future because suddenly, their exhaustion turns into full-blown burnout. That's how it works. Professionals tell you to dial things back if you are too overwhelmed. There is a reason for that. There is a limit to how much people can mentally process and handle. Compassion fatigue exists. For a lot of us, we are already at our limit. We need space to relax, and not have arbitrary obligations thrown on us. That is not our fault, it is not a character flaw, it does not mean we are bad people. And just because horrific things are happening elsewhere, it does not mean we can, or should, stop taking care of ourselves first. Yes, it feels shitty to think, "you know what, I can't reblog this". You bet your ass that I and my friends feel guilty about not being able to engage as much as we think we should, but that is how it goes. I can put my head underwater for a bit. But I cannot keep my head underwater forever. I will drown.

Not to mention the obvious part: guilt-tripping people to the extent of implying they are somehow contributing to genocide, just because they won't reblog a post, and implying they should not be able to live with themselves if they do that, is beyond revolting.

I am angry, and I am not sorry.

So many of those kinds of posts—and they turn up during every set of horrific real world events—sound like people who are in a country far away from the events, diaspora at most but probably just randos, venting their impotent rage because it's the only way they can feel productive in a situation where nothing they can do is productive.

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jasmines-library · 4 months

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I just discovered your blog yesterday and I am INHALING your work! I love your writing, it feels like a movie being played in my head. Oh and the ANGST - JUST ajfhahaskh *Screaming in my pillow rn*.Would you be willing to write a second part of the self harm batfam x reader fic?

~ 🦑

Save Me When I Drown

I'm so glad you like my work hearing that means so much to me. as requested, here is a part 2; sorry it took me a billion years to get to it.

Part 1: Catch Me if I Fall

Warnings: Very nearly self harm, depressive thoughts, relapse. Please read with caution.

Word count: 1.3K

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

Things had been getting better. Slowly but surely they had. It was a slow process, that of course had not been easy. There were days where you felt like you could run a hundred miles, but there were also days where you couldn’t bring yourself to move. When the urge became too much. And although your brothers were there to help you… today was one of those days.

The five of you were gathered around the table. Eating together at least once a week had become a tradition, and each of your brothers made a big effort to attend them, though it was rare to make it this far into the meal without being interrupted by Gotham’s infamous residents. And you were trying so hard to keep focused; to enjoy Alfred’s cooking as it melted on your tongue but you just couldn’t. And you hated yourself for it.

You had to keep your eyes on your plate as you pushed your food aimlessly around the china. Your appetite had gone nearly as soon as you sat down, but you couldn’t look up because you knew as soon as you did you would feel guilty again. Dick sat across from you. A dark bruise had blossomed over his skin, turning it dark shades of maroon and indigo. He had a small laceration on his cheek below the bruise over his eye. It hadn’t needed stitches, but the sight still made you grimace. Beside him, Damian was also bloodied. They were all injured in some way. A stitch here, a sprain there.

You should have been bothered by them. Injuries were a given in your line of work. But the thing that was tipping you over the edge was the fact that you were completely unscathed. There wasn’t a single hair on your head that was out of place. And it made your skin crawl. The five of them had run into a bit of a predicament with Bane; a particularly grisly fight that had ended with the majority of them spending a day or two on bedrest or in the infirmary.

You should have been there. You should have been helping them but instead you were sitting in the safety of the manor, watching them on the monitors. Guilt washed over you like an ocean drowning you in your own thoughts. If only you had been quicker to direct them. If only you had pushed Bruce more to let you help out. Surely with an extra pair of hands the risk of injury would have been lowered. You would have had to ask Tim for the exact statistics, but you were sure enough that it would have made a difference.

Bouncing your thigh leg up and down, you felt as though your skin was burning. Itching. As those thoughts weaselled their way back into your conscience. You picked at the skin around your thumb. Sometimes that helped the urge. But not this time. You had been too slow. Again. Everything was your fault and-

“Y/N?” It was Dick’s voice that broke you out of your trance. It was gentle and he reached out to place a hand on your restless leg under the table. He was ever the observer. The way he looked at you made you want to cry like a fragile child. Soft blue eyes downturned as he raised his eyebrow a fraction with the tilt of his head. “Are you alright?”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to tell him everything. But you kept it bottled up. You didn’t want them to pity you. Besides, you were getting better. That was what you had told yourself. That is what had been happening and it made you so frustrated that you were beginning to feel this way again.

“Y/N?” Someone else called your name again with the same solemn tone when you refused to reply. You didn’t register who it was because your head was too foggy. Frankly, you didn’t care. You needed to leave.

“ ‘scuse me.” Scraping your chair against the floor, you abandoned your food and made a beeline for the exit.

You think someone called after you, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the thumping of your heart as you hounded up the stairs and into your room. Shutting the door rather too harshly and locking it behind you, you sank to your knees. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks as your mask fell and you slumped against the ground. You felt so stupid. You were supposed to be getting better. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. You were supposed to be fine and you were supposed to be downstairs eating with the others. God, that made you feel even worse. You sank a little deeper into that ocean of thoughts. They had all made such an effort to be there and you had just fled like a child to their mother.

Do it. Your mind was barking orders at you again. Old ones that you had fought so hard to forget.

Restlessly you pushed yourself up and made your way over to your closet. Shakily you dug through the draws until your fingers wrapped around the frayed leather. Silent, you turned it over in your palms. Your whole body seemed to tremble as you moved to perch on the edge of the bed.

Someone was knocking on the door. You could hear them on the other side begging to be let in. begging for you to just answer them.

You placed the blade against your skin and screwed your eyes up tight. The silver was cool against your skin.

“Little Bat…please open the door.” Bruce had never sounded more vulnerable as he stood helplessly outside the door. You could almost picture his face: eyebrows downturned and eyes wide as he waited anxiously for you to either open the door or from Tim to return with the spare key to your room. Just in case.

Trembling, your whole body was wracked by waves of tears each one gripped you tight and was accompanied by a thousand thoughts trying to burn away at the surface of your skin. Your eyes flickered to the knife. One swipe and it would all be gone. One swipe and you would get what you felt like you deserved. But then Bruce’s voice broke through the door.

“I know you’re scared, Kiddo.”

Your head snapped toward the door. You paused with a shuddering breath.

“And that’s okay. That’s normal.” He continued. “I get scared too. We all do.”

At that moment you knew that your brothers were standing behind the door too, waiting with anxious anticipation that made their fingertips itch. You heard a shuffling, and then Jason’s voice came, muffled by the door. You weren’t entirely sure if he was planning to break it down or not, but his voice was calm.

“Please open the door Little Wing…” Jason pleaded. “...We love you…and we’re scared.”

And you broke. The dagger clattered to the floor with another bout of tears and you unlocked the door.

Bruce wrapped you up in his arms the second the door was wide enough to reveal you. He let out a heavy sigh of relief.

“S-sorry…” You spluttered. “I’m sorry…”

“Shh.” He cupped the back of your head with his hand and you felt one of your brothers place a hand on your shoulder. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Little Wing. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“But I-”

“Shh.” Tim hushed. “It’s okay.”

“I thought I was getting better.” You sniffled.

Damian frowned. “You are. And we are so proud of how for you have come, sister. This is part of the process, Little Wing.”

“You’ve come so far, Kid.” Dick told you. “And we’re sorry that we didn’t notice how you were feeling until now. But it’s okay, because healing isn’t a linear process. And we’re going to be there with you every step of the way. Through the good and the bad just like we promised.”

You nodded.

“This is just one of the bad days, Wing.” Tim hummed. “Things will get better, I promise.”

“And we will love you the entire way.”

Taglist:

@aestheticdaisies

@hell-o-kittys

@xxrougefangxx

@mamapucket

@hearts4robs

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sarawritestories · 9 days

Text

I Wanna Be Yours Chapter 2

Xaden Riorson X Lydia Aetos

Summary: Lydia Aetos Longs to be a Ballerina, her father has other plans, and has conscripted her to the rider's quadrant with her childhood friend Violet. Reuniting with her brother he only gives her two orders. Do not bring up wanting to dance and stay far away from Xaden Riorson. Both of his orders go ignored.

Chapter Summary: Lydia is drowning in the memories of her past, and trying to get her footing at Basgiath.

A/N: I'm so sorry that it took me this long to get out. I loved chapter 1 so dearly I was struggling to make sure Chapter 2 was just as good!

I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I promise it won't be super long like this for every update I was just going through some things and fighting some insecurities!

Word Count: 9,235 (I wasn't going to have you all wait this long just for a short fic

Chapter 1 I Wanna Be Yours Masterlist

My breathing becomes rapid as I wait to go on stage. The anticipation before a performance has always been the reason for my heart racing and my nerves are heighten. The warmth of a larger tanned hand enveloping my own instantly quiets the noise in my mind. “You look like you’re ready to crawl out of your skin, Dove.” I smile and look at Lian, my dance partner, my love. His warm brown eyes, twinkling under the mage lights. He smiles and it’s so disarming and causes butterflies to flutter in my stomach. “You are radiant.”

I giggle, and smooth out my dance dress the flowing skirts various shades cobalt that stops at my knees. The bodice having an intricate design of silver swirls against the blue corset like top. “You say that every show.” His free hand plays with one of the lose curls framing my face, the rest of my hair in a tight ornate bun. I take in his form; his outfit matches mine in hue with his pants various levels of blue with a simply white tunic that reveals some of his tone chest the silver pendant you gave him wrapped around his neck. “I have to say, Lian, you’re not so bad yourself.”

Lian chuckles as He lifts my hand to his lips, pressing them to my knuckles specifically where the ring he had given me resides. “I mean it Lydia. I love-

The music swells in the auditorium the melody, the indication I need to appear. “See you out there, Lover Boy.” He releases my hand as I begin to leap onto the stage and into Fourth position. Feeling Lian’s warm gaze upon my body, causing my cheeks to redden. I begin the routine.

My movements are fluid, my turns sharp. Seraphina’s words in the back of my mind, “Keep those feet pointed, arms straight, girl.” Her raspy voice rings in my ears as I correct my feet and my arms. Allowing the music to enter my body once again. I am its puppet, the symphony my puppeteer.

I swirl my skirt whirling around me the shades of blue looking like rippling waves around me. And I begin the movements that lead to my big leap when I notice one of the musicians hit the incorrect note. Seraphina always said to not let the musicians’ mistakes be your downfall on the stage. Heading that advise I push through tampering my annoyance I run and take in the air. My grin big, my legs stretched wide, I feel as though I’m flying, and in this moment one thing rings true, there will never be a more freeing feeling than this.

The other musicians’ notes turn sharp and out of tune, and the disruption despite what I was taught causes me to stumble my landing. I hiss as my ankle rolls, causing my body to collapse to the ground, but I don’t think about the pain as screams erupt from the theater. Tanned Hands are instantly on my waist hoisting me up and the familiar smell of soap and ocean waves crash tells me its Lian. I smell the flames before I see them. “Lian, we have to get out of here.” My voice trembles as fear begins to consume me.

Flames erupt around the theater as the ground shakes before us Lian grabs me closer to me. "I'm sorry dove," he whispers.

"For what?" He presses his forehead to mine. Panic laces my voice as he grips me tighter, his thumb grazing against my hip in a soothing manner. Confusion washes through me at his behavior, we should be trying to leave to get out of here. “Lian, you’re scaring me.”

"I love you more today than I did yesterday." He murmurs in my hair. My chest feels heavy like someone is applying all their weight over my heart at his words. I can’t breathe. He looks at me expectantly and my stomach gets a sinking sensation.

I shake my head as tears pool in my eyes and begin to run down my face, as I cup his cheek, "Why does this feel like a goodbye?" I cry out while he waits patiently waiting for me to finish his statement. The sounds around us muted by the intensity this conversation has become.

"Finish it, dove. Please." The banisters above us crash, and the flames lick my skin as he grips me closer to his chest. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

I tremble, and press his lips to mine quickly, "I'll love you more tomorrow than I did today." He kisses my lips once more, just when the stage collapses, he pushes me out of the way. The warmth of his touch lingering on my skin as I watch him get consumed by the hole where the stage once stood. Arms wrap around me, hoisting me up and dragging me to safety. I begin to thrash and scream, calling out to him, "Lian, LIAN!"

My Screams the only sound in the burning auditorium.

“Wake up, Lydia! Wake! Up!” Dain’s voice breaks through the darkness and my eyes open with a jolt and I sit up. My eyes can’t seem to focus, and I don’t recall where I am, Dain’s hands grip my shoulders, and my gaze quickly moves to my brother. His eyes hold concern in them, his brows furrowed, “You were just having a dream.” His thumbs rubbed my shoulders, “You were out for two days.”

“Two days.” Memories of golden yellow eyes and how the blue daggertail bowed to me. A dragon had bowed to me! I lived to tell the tale of my first interaction with a dragon.

I slowly lift my hands and wrap them around his wrists as though I need proof, he is really with me. His eyes glance at my hand and spot the silver band with a swirls throughout the band and the initials LD engraved in it. “I didn’t think he would let you keep anything after mom left.” His brown eyes meet mine.

I quickly remove my hands with a scoff. “The General doesn’t get to dictate what I keep and what gets thrown away. Even if he thinks he does.” My mind goes back to watching as he destroyed one set of my pointe shoes. I smile, what he didn’t know on that day, that in my bag, the new pair I had bought from the traveling market were there.

Dain releases my shoulders, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Lydia he is only trying to protect you.” He lowers his hands and shoots me a glare, “As am I.” His tone is clipped.

I blink and my lip curls, “What’s that supposed to mean?” I cross my arms.

My brother leans against his chair, also crossing his arms a familiar stance we have taken over the years. One that only led to one of us screaming and the other either with tears, or a broken nose. Dain’s nose has never looked the same since. “Are you aware whose dragon it was that you enticed?”

Rage consumes my body, “You want to ask that again, Brother?” I quirk a brow at him.

“No.” His tone is just like the general’s, too much like him.

“You know I don’t know, so don’t be a condescending prick and just tell me.” I begin to stretch my legs under the blankets my feet naturally pointing. The numb feeling shifting into pins and needles my legs has been in one position for too long. I need to get up…I need to practice.

“That was Xaden Riorson’s dragon, Lydia.” Dain snarls. “And you bowed to it, like it she was some all-powerful being. Do you know how that makes the Aetos family look? Did that even cross your mind?”

I turn to sit at the edge of my bed, my hand gripping the end so tightly my knuckles turn white. “You’re joking, right?” Anger begins to bubble; my face begins to heat up and I can feel the tears beginning to build. “A dragon approached me. In most cultures, bowing between two parties is a sign of respect. I was thinking of how I could come out of that situation alive.” Dain’s lips formed into a tight line shifting in his seat. “I thought about my life. I wasn’t thinking about who that dragon belonged to, how embarrassing it was for you. I sure as fuck did not give a shit about our family reputation.” I rise noting that I am still from my clothes from the parapet. Finally taking in my surroundings I notice the rows of beds someone brought me to the female wing. “What time is it?”

“We have about 2 hours before formation.” Dain says rising from his own scene. “I need you to lay low. Please for the love of the gods, please lay low. Don’t attract any unwanted attention, do not bring up the dancing thing.” He grips my arm, his fingers digging into my skin. “This is the most important one so pay attention. Stay away from Xaden Riorson.”

I snort and yank my arm back, “I have no interest in being near the one person in this place who would probably want to see our heads on a spike, thanks to the action of our father.” Pushing him out of my way I grab my bag that is lying beside my bed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready for the day.”

I left the female wing before he could get another word in. I manage to find the showers on my own and wash off the grime that I have been sleeping in. Letting the water cascade down my skin, I rub my face my mind wandering from that interaction with the blue daggertail. To the nightmare I woke up from. Lian. My dance partner, my lover, my best friend. I twist the ring on my finger absentmindedly, it’s been months since I last had a dream about him. Tears well up in my eyes.

The rays of the sun warmed my skin as I began my stretches, Lian lying on the blanket in front of me. The sun is hitting his tan skin, his eyes closed, a smile on his face. As though he didn’t have any care in the world, except to be here with me. Finishing my stretches I rise to my feet and lift my teeth on my tippy toes. My bare feet sink into the plush blades of grass. I raise my leg above my head.

I begin to hum, and the tune shifts me from the prairie we are having a picnic at and morphs to the theater. My hums soon are replaced by the sweet sounds of the orchestra. I move my leg down pointed behind me. My movements fluid as my feet carries me through the stage. Leaps precise arms tight, various faces in the crowd, that I don’t pay close attention to. I begin my pirouette. I’m to do five spins for this routine, the most I have done. Putting myself in position I smile out to the crown and stumble, brown hair the same as my own, a smile that Dain inherited are looking back at me. It’s not that my mother is in the crowd that causes my movements to falter. Her eyes, seeming to glow in the dim lights of the theater and their color, gone were the warmth and comfort of her blue eyes. Her gaze now cold, hard and the vilest shade of red.

Hands gripped my waist pulling me tightly, fingers beginning to dance at my size as laughter begins to bubble up my chest.

“Lian!” I squeal as he spins me around, always knowing exactly when I need to be pulled from my thoughts. “Put me down! I’m rehearsing!”

He presses his lips to my ear, “You’re always rehearsing, Dove. We’re outside let’s enjoy our picnic.”

“I don’t like dealing with the wrath of Seraphina.” I murmur as I lean into his touch.

“I have a gift for though. Don’t you want to know what it is?” I whip around to face him, and he chuckles at my wide-eyed expression.

“My Love, if you want my attention, start with gifts.” He leads me back to the blanket and sits me down. “I have something for you too.”

“Me first,” he tucks what he has behind his back. Lian's curly brown hair becoming wild with the soft summer breeze rolling through. “Close your eyes, Dove, and hold out your right hand.”

I quirk a brow but obey, closing my eyes I stick out my right hand. It feels like hours have gone by though it has only been a minute at most before his soft hand holds mine. The cool bite of metal sliding down my finger until it reaches my knuckle. I open my eyes and gasp. The engraving work on the ring is beautiful, the swirling design reminding me of shadows and in the center where the shadows should my initials reside there. LD.

I look up at my partner and smile, “Lian D- He silences me with a kiss one filled with so much passion it makes me dizzy.

He pulls away, “Do you like it?” He murmurs over my mouth.

“No.” His face falls before I kiss his nose, “I love it.” Lian’s grin takes my breath away. “My turn.” I press a hand to his chest, “Sit back, and close your eyes.” Lian sat back on his heels and closed his eyes. I dig through my bag until my fingers grip the chain, pulling it out revealing the oval pendant with my name in the center. I crawl to him and gently place the chain over his head and place the necklace down gently around his neck.

Lian opens his eyes, and looks down to the pendant. His thumb grazes over the engraving of my name as though he was caressing me. My body responds to the sight of it as if his thumb was grazing me, tenderly. He looks up at me with a smile, “Now you’ll be near my heart forever.” Lian grabs my waist and pulls me on his lap. “Happy Anniversary, Dove.”

I press my forehead to his. “Happy Anniversary, Lian.”

“Lydia?” Violet’s voice rings through the bathing chambers.

“I’m in here,” I call out, her footsteps echoing through the chamber.

“Are you okay? I just ran into Dain.” Her voice is hesitant, she knows my feelings for my brother as well as I know about hers. “He seemed upset.”

“He can get in line.” Shutting off the water and grabbing my towel to dry off. “I don’t need a lecture about how he is a good person. I’m not interested in that.”

“I know what today is.” My hands still, “I’m not here to talk about Dain. He’s being an ass.” I wrap the towel around my body and step out. Violet’s blue eyes with flickers of amber were warm. “I’m sorry.” She engulfs me into a hug as I swallow the tears threatening to fall. “He would be so proud of you, Lydia.”

Today would have been our two-year anniversary. I should be at the dance studio with him rehearsing. Yet here I am in Basgiath and Lian…is gone.

Lian’s absence has hurt me in more ways than one. After our one-year anniversary he vanished. At least when my mother abandoned me, she had the decency to leave me a note. Late nights at the lake, stolen kisses backstage, his arms wrapped around me so tight the colonel’s wrath couldn’t find me there. I long for those moments once more, but clearly, he didn’t. His words the day we exchanged gifts ring in my head, “I’ll get you out, Lydia, you’ll never have to deal with your father. I’m going to set you free.”

He didn’t keep his promise. He left me behind without so much as a second glance. Freedom. My mom longed for it, Lian promised it. I’m growing to detest the idea of freedom if it means the people I care about most fucking abandon me for it, leaving me to a cruel fate.

Confined. Controlled. Caged.

What good is freedom if it means stepping on the backs of the people one loves just to get there?

My feeling of sadness contorts to anger as I slowly pull away from Violet, she has never once abandoned me and is confined in this brick cage as I am. Violet doesn’t deserve my anger, though the sympathy in her eyes told me I could, and she would let me. I refuse to be my father or my brother and take my out-of-control feelings out on people who do not deserve it. Straightening my spine I give Violet’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Hard to be proud of someone, you actively abandoned with no word as to why you left.” I release her hand and swallow once more forcing the lump lodged in my throat back down to the pit of my stomach where it belongs. Where all my unwanted feelings belong. “I’m going to get dressed and we can head to formation.

Violet nods, her eyes still glittering with concern. I quickly moved to change into the leathers that were near my bed this morning. Wrapping my hair in a tight bun I stick the two hair pins in. I link my arms with hers and give her a smile, a performative one, but a smile all the same.

Formation was a blur even as I am currently looking for a seat during breakfast, thinking back I can’t quite remember anything other than the list of names of those that did not make it yesterday, and everyone’s eyes on me. Kind of like they are now, though I have never been a stranger to eyes upon me, I wish it was for my ability to dance and not because I survived an interaction with Xaden Riorson’s dragon. And arm drapes around my shoulder, “Welcome back to the land of the living.” Ridoc’s voice is a welcome joy from the ominous stares burning holes in my skin. “Come, we’ve already scooped up Sorrengail.” Before I can counter, he is brining me to the table with Rhiannon, Violet, and a man who’s skinny, sandy curls lay atop his head.

Sitting at the open seat next to him the handsome man, he held out his hand, “Sawyer Henrick.” There is a twinkle in his green eyes, his freckles a stark contrast with his pale skin.

I grip his hand and give him a warm smile, “Lydia Aetos.”

Sawyer winks, “You know, you’re a lot prettier to look at than your brother.”

Heat creeps up my skin, as I release his hand. “Thanks, I guess.” I take a sip of my drink, “He is an eye sore.” Sawyer spits out his drink all over Ridoc as he chuckles, while the latter groans.

“How are you feeling, Lydia?” Rhiannon changes the subject as Ridoc continues his grumbling.

I think back to Xaden’s onyx eyes boring into my skull, or the heat from the Blue Daggertails nostril’s grazing against my neck as if a gust of warm summer’s wind was caressing me. Her yellow eyes staring at me, assessing me, for what? I’m not sure and I hope I wouldn’t find out considering who her rider is. The fear surges back up but a hand gripping my own brings me to the present. Soft, tiny, Violet, I look over to the youngest Sorrengail, “I’m alright. Nothing a few days rest couldn’t solve.”

“So, that interaction with that dragon…”Ridoc pulls my attention to him, “What was that all about?”

I shrug, beginning to devour my meal, not caring how the food tasted as I discover how hungry I am, “I truly wish I knew. I have never met a dragon before her.”

The table falls silent in contemplation. I shift in my seat and feel the familiar prick in the back of my neck. Glancing up Onyx eyes look at me in cold assessment as he eats his food, his stare never breaking from my own. I give my performance grin, the one that makes the audience fall in love with me the moment I step on the stage. Slowly raising my hand, I lift my middle finger to him. His eyes lower and he tilts his head ever slightly ignoring the person who is chatting away in front of him. I give him a playful wink and break eye contact though I can feel his eyes on me.

“Well, should we call you the Queen of the Dragons?” Ridoc quips as the table chuckles with him and I hunch my shoulders slightly, embarrassment trickling through my body. “I mean I have never heard of a dragon that has bowed to a human in that way before. It must mean she’s destined to rule them all.” Ridoc smiles at me as I ball up my napkin to throw at him.

“Absolutely not, I would much rather you all call me twinkle toes than that.” I sip my water as the entire table, Violet included, give each other playful looks.

Collectively and in the highest decibel above screaming yell, “Twinkle Toes!” Before erupting in laughter and I can’t help but join in. I forgotten what it felt like to be surrounded by people that I connect with so well and enjoy their company. Sitting with them wiping my tears from laughter that causes my stomach to ache is a welcome reprieve from the dark corners of my mind where I usually reside.

“Mind if we join?” A man’s voice pulls the group from our bubble and back into reality. I lift my gaze and it feels as though ice has been poured over my head. The man’s eyes the same shade of brown as his, his hair like the curls I ran my fingers through countless times, lips I’ve kissed on numerous occasions. His face has the same shape as Lian’s, they could have been twins. My gaze shifts lower to the relic that peaks through his leathers and that’s where the similarities end, and the sound of my heart shattering thunder in my ears.

“Not at all We have space,” Ridoc scoots down, Lian’s look-a-like allows his handsome friend that had a matching tattoo along, with blonde hair and blue eyes, to sit closer to Ridoc and he sits in front of me. I swallow down my surge of emotions tears threatening to fall as the man smiles at me.

Ridoc takes over with the introductions, saving himself for last. “And who might you two be.”

The blonde-haired male eyes locks on Violets, as he smiles and I notice that her cheeks are red as he holds out his hand to her, “Liam Mairi.” Violet shakes his hand and averts her gaze. Sliding his hand from hers his fingers lingering slightly from her fingertips. Clasping the man’s, in front of me, shoulder, “This right here is Bodhi Durran, a second year.”

Metal clashes as my utensils falls on the plate, “I’m so sorry.” I rise to my feet acutely aware eyes are on me, “I just realize I need to do some things before class starts. Please excuse me.” I smile at Bohdi vision beginning to blur as tears rise, “It was lovely to meet you.” I turn and briskly walk away before anyone can call me back. Running down the hall and into the female wing of the dorms I reach my cot and sob in my pillow. Memories of Lian I have since buried deep rising to the surface:

“Lydia Aetos. My muse.” Lian smiles as my hips grind against his, “My dove.” His tanned hands slide my dress up my thighs they slowly reach my chest palming my cleavage resulting in a moan from me. “Who sings such pretty songs in pleasure.” He sits up and I adjust accordingly as I ride him.

“I love you.” I whisper, my eyes lidded, “I love you Lian Durran.” My fingers slide through his dark curls as his lips find mine and claim me.

A hand clamps over my mouth as I’m hoisted from my cot. My back presses against a hard back a dagger at my neck as hands grip my legs to prevent me from kicking. “Shh, Twinkle Toes. We’re going to take good care of you! I scream resulting in the hand clamping tighter around my mouth.

I lash around as Jack Barlow and his cronies begin to carry me down the empty corridor. “Jack,” the one struggling to keep my feet together groans, “Can’t we at least have some fun with her before we get rid of her?” My body stills at the implication. I know I’m in danger, but fear keeps me frozen in place.

Help

I am incapable of calling out to help as the duo pulls me into the shadows. They pin me to the wall, and I beg my body to move, will it to do anything besides tremble, I think of Dain, and the dream of a better relationship with my brother, of Violet whose kindness has brought me from the brink of insanity by her friendship. I think of Rhiannon, Ridoc, Sawyer, Liam and even Bodhi, friendships I’ll never get to see grow because I know one thing is certain.

I am going to die today.

Jack presses the knife to my skin keeping my head in place with his hand. “I’m going to make sure you feel the humiliation I felt on the parapet that day.” He whispers in my ear as he grazes the knife across my neck, hard enough to break skin, though not hard enough to kill. As if he was a predator toying with his food, he lowered the cold steel down to my chest where the leathers we received protected me from taking any reputable damage. “You are such a pretty little thing.” Bile rose in the back of my throat at his words. “You’ll be even prettier drenched in your blood.

“But you sai-

“Even I wouldn’t stoop that low.” And with a quick movement of his hand Jack slit the other cadet’s throat. I screamed his palm muffling the sound. His cold blue eyes meet mine, “Now where were we?”

“What do we have here?” A low voice causes Jack to turn, yanking me to his front. Hazel eyes meet mine and I take a moment to take in the person in front of me. His dark black hair with short curls allows the sharp angles of his face to stand out. His high cheekbones and perfectly set nose this man is handsome and right now his mouth is set in a firm line, “It’s not nice to hand a pretty lady in such a way.”

“I’m handling a pest problem.” Jack simply states.

The man smiles and its devastatingly beautiful. “Allow me to correct myself.” His large, calloused hand wraps around my forearm and maneuvers me out of Jack’s grasp with ease. All the while gripping the collar of Jack’s jacket, “You will not touch her or come near her ever again. “Do you understand?” Jack nods a snarl curling at his lips as the man releases him. “Good not run along, you’ll be late for battle brief.” Jack makes sure to level me with a glare as he walks down the corridor. The mystery man turns towards me and smiles, his eyes scanning me, locking in my neck where the warmth of my blood clings to my skin. “You’re hurt.”

“A simple scratch, it will be gone in the morning.” I look to the corpse lying behind him and he glances to where I’m staring, “Better than being that guy at the moment.” The man snorts as his gaze lands on me once more. He nods as though the answer is good enough for him as I reach out my hand, “I’m Lydia.”

His eyes light up in recognition, “Aetos right?” I sheepishly nod my head as he takes my hand and places a soft kiss on my knuckles, “A pleasure. You are much nicer to look at than your brother.” He releases my hand and I laugh.

“I see my brother has made quite the name for himself.” I quip as I fidget as silence fell between the two of us.

“Come on Cadet, we will be late for battle brief.” The man extends his arm for me to loop through and as my hand pressed into his muscled arm, he led me down the hall.

I look back to the body on the ground, “Um shouldn’t we take care of him?”

Garrick chuckles, “Don’t fret, Pretty girl, someone will dispose of him and his things. “Death is pretty commonplace here.” I feel his eyes are on me. I glance back in his direction to see a playful smirk on his face, “I like your eyes. How one is brown, and one is blue. Its about as unique as having a dragon bow to you.” He quirks a brow as I groan looking up at the ornate ceiling above. “Word travels fast here.”

“So much for going through these three years undetected I guess.” He hums in agreement, and I take a moment to study him as we go down the stairs. “So does the pretty boy have a name?”

The man winks at me, “He does.”

“Well, I can’t call you my hero forever,” I smile, the sadness of a former love fluttering away, as I shamelessly flirt with the man in front of me.

He whistles, “You’re good, Aetos.” He releases my arm only playfully nudges me. “My name is Garrick. Feel free to keep calling me your hero though. I won’t mind.”

I laugh, “You’re a shameless flirt.” I counter as we approach a classroom, students from every year begin filing in.

Onyx eyes meet mine, his nostrils flare slightly at the sight of me with Garrick but his lips remain in a tight line as a warmth breath grazes my ear, “Takes one to know one, Pretty Girl.” I whip my head towards him as he stands to his full height and walks into the room without so much as a goodbye. Though he is quick to wrap what I now see as a tattooed arm around Xaden causing the Wingleader to break eye contact with me.

“Hey, are you okay? You ran off pretty quickly at breakfast.” Ridoc’s voice rings out as I find him with the others at the entryway.

“I’m fine, just needed to catch up on work.” Ridoc nodded as we all entered the large classroom with chairs that rose all the way up to the rafters. Every student in Basgiath could be sat here. The ornate look of the room takes my breath away as it reminds me of the theater I once used to frequent with my mother.

“Everyone, take your seats and we will begin.” A woman projects her voice from where she stands, at what can only be described as a stage. I’m once again reminded of the fact that I am no longer a dancer. This is not a theater. I am to become a rider. This is Battle Brief.

Waking up early, I quickly change into my leotard and tights that I sneak past my father’s nose. The last week has been a challenge to say the least. I have been struggling to gain my footing, Dain’s constant quips and critiques, the intense class schedule. Finding reasons to get up and keep moving has been a challenging one for me. Familiar dark thoughts overriding my brain my father’s words ringing in my ears. Somedays I am able to quiet them other time they were yelled in high decibels causing me to curl into a ball in my cot.

Worthless. Pathetic. Disgrace of a child.

Wrapping my pointe shoes around my ankles tying them securely I begin to tiptoe toward the Gym where there are full length mirrors.

Grateful that no one is around, I begin my stretches, my feet pointed outward, I lower my body. I focus on my breathing as I plie I reach one arm out in front of me the other above me and I sink lower once more.

Inhale

Hold 2, 3, 4

Exhale

I rise on my exhale and do this a few more times trying to keep my breathing even and the dark thoughts at bay. To keep from those feelings consuming me entirely as they have in previous years. And I begin to do my routine.

“You need to get up, Lydia.” Lian whispers as I turn over and cover the pillow over my head groaning. “Dove.” His fingers graze up my bare spine.

“Go away.” I grumble pulling the covers over me tightly.

Lian continues his tender strokes, “Is it happening again?” He gently removes the pillow from my head to reveal my tear-stained cheeks. “The dark feelings returning.”

I nod my head, “It feels like my body weighs a ton. I just want to lay in bed.” Lian proceeds to pull the covers off me and before I can begin to scold him, he kisses the bottom of my spine spine and leaves soft pecks all the way up to the base of my neck. “Lian.” I warn.

“I’m not going to do anything, not like that anyway.” He chuckles as his firm hands begin to rub the tension from my shoulders. “Seraphina can rehearse with the others today.”

“You should-

“I would never leave you behind, Dove.” He continues to massage my back and reaches a knot that elicits a groan. “I’m going to set you free, baby. I promise.” A small smile emerges on my face, “There she is.”

My spins become sloppy as memories of Lian bubble up.

I would never leave you behind. But he did.

I am going to set you free. Yet, I’m still in a cage.

I love you, Dove. Then why did he leave?

I lose my footing as I leap, and my ankle rolls before I can fall to the floor calloused hands grip my arms. My body stiffens as I see the rebellion relic, followed by the scent of leather and mint. My eyes gaze up to meet the Gold flecked onyx of Xaden Riorson. “What has you up this early?”

I writhe out of his grasp, “Why do you want to know?”

Xaden quirks his scarred brow, “I’m your Wingleader, Kitten, it’s my job to know why my cadet is not only out of bed but why she is in…whatever it is you’re wearing.”

I look down at my pointe shoes followed by my pink tights and leotard, “I’m a dancer. This is dance attire.”

His eyes graze down my body and a shiver course down my spine at his ogling. “Why are you here?”

“This space is for all cadets, Wingleader.” I begin to continue when he presses a finger to my lips.

“No, no. Why are you here in Basgiath?” His thumb idly swiped my hip the tenderness of the action pulling me from my stupor. As I whack his hand and step out of his grasp. “I mean it is pretty obvious you don’t belong here, Kitten.”

Through gritted teeth, “Well the fuck aware, Riorson. I also recall telling you my name is Lydia.”

He takes a step closer, gripping my chin he forces me to look at him, “Tell me something, Lydia. Why did you bow to Sgaeyl?”

Sgaeyl. That is the name of his dragon. Beautiful. Just like her. “Out of respect.”

“You didn’t have to.” He murmurs getting close enough that I have no choice but to look up at him. “Most people would have ran away.”

“I’m not most people. I prefer keeping my flesh intact not becoming a pile of ash.” I pull one of the hair pins from my hair pressing it to his chest forcing him to take a step back. “Tell me, Xaden, why did she bow in return?”

He hums in contemplation, and I scowl. He bends down at the waist, so our faces are inches apart from one another. My heartbeat quickens at him being so close to me, warmth pooling in my belly as his beautiful face closes in on mine, our nose near touching. “Now where is the fun in answering that, Kitten.” His face contorts into a look of confusion. “You’re crying.”

I press my hand to my cheek to find tears there. The dark thoughts hit me like a wave crashing over a rock, unlike a rock, I get swept up in the current:

Useless, Pathetic, Annoying. Traitor

Traitor

I wrap my arms around myself and take a step away from the Wingleader. The warmth his body provided was now gone. “I have to go, if I want to change and make it to formation in time.” I turn acutely aware I am putting my back to him as I scurry off back from the room. Finding a vacant hallway, I slide my back against the cool brick, rubbing my chest. The words are becoming all-consuming, and I allow myself to succumb to the darkness. The words playing in a loop as though it was playing through a faulty record player.

Worthless

Words are so cruel but have been my constant companion when people I care about were so quick to leave me. Abandon me. Brennan, my mom, Lian, even Dain is guilty of abandoning me. It’s hard to not let the vile words keep me down when the most important people in my life constantly leave me. At some point the words that would pop up as fleeting thought began to take root and seep into my brain as something factual the moment, I found that letter on my bed. The moment I learned that I wasn’t worth fighting for, wasn’t worth defending.

Dain’s betrayal stung the most when he would stop defending me against our father when it came to my dancing and has since tried to snuff out the one good thing in my life with him.

“I highly doubt you’re good enough to make a career out of it. This is a fine hobby sure, but you need to realize that he expects you to train to be a warrior.”

A chunk of my heart deteriorated that day. Dain has never once seen me dance, for him to say that hurt. For him to then reiterate that last week stings more. Nothing has changed and I was hoping that being here away from our father would give us the chance to mend things. The hope now since squandered since I yielded my practice challenge after the first punch. He said I was embarrassing him and making father look like a fool.

Maybe I am a fool. Fool for falling in love with a performer who the moment things became complicated had left without an utterance of goodbye.

Foolish for thinking I could have a career in dance with my father carrying me like a marionette doll. Foolish for thinking him and I would ever have a loving father daughter relationship like I witness Violet have with her father.

Foolish for thinking I’m good enough to fight for, to love, to be cared for.

Foolish

Stray tears turn into stream of sobs as I tuck my knees to my chest and bury my face in them. I don’t care how loud I’m being, or how emotional I am. I just want the ache in my chest to disappear, for the heaviness of my existence to lift from my shoulders. For someone, anyone, to pull me from the depths of my darkness so that I may be able to breathe easier, to feel less burdensome.

My vision blurs as I allow the thoughts to rip me apart, the sounds of footsteps causing me to lift my head. Finding a tall figure hovering over me as my vison gives way to the tears, I don’t register the hands that lift me from the ground only the comforting smell of Leather and mint before falling asleep allowing the exhaustion of my episode to welcome me with open arms.

“Lydia!” Violet squeals jolting me awake, I look to see I’m on my cot. The other women filtering through. “You missed formation, I was so worried about you.” Her frail arms wrap around my neck and I’m quick to embrace her back not only because I needed her comfort but also to keep her from falling. “Were you asleep the whole time?”

I shrug, “I honestly am not sure how I got here. I was practicing in the gym before anyone had woken up. Next thing I know I am waking up to you.” She nods and a pang of guilt hits me like a dagger, I know that someone had brought me back here during my meltdown. Violet has enough to worry about on her own, she doesn’t need to be worried about me as well. “Was Dain mad?”

Violet bit her lip and her cheeks became rosy, “He was,” She looked up as though she was trying to pick the best word from a shelf. “Agitated.”

Shit.

“He was angry. I didn’t mean to miss formation. I just didn’t wake up.” I sit up and grab my leathers. Preparing for the fight I will inevitably have with my brother. “I will be surprised if he doesn’t just kill me before the year is over. That way he doesn’t have to worry about me ruining his image.”

“Well, what if I said that I have something that gives you and I an edge.” I pause and turn to my friend. She holds up a book in her hands the scrawl so familiar.

The Book of Brennan

“How?”

“Mira must have kept it after Brennan died.” Violet shrugs and her eyes shift as if for a moment she was back home, and her brother was still alive. I reach over and grip her shoulder and she physically shake off the memories. She gives me a smile, “We’ll read this after classes. If we are even late to one. I fear Ridoc is going to become lost.”

“Can’t have that. I’ll change quickly and we can go.” She nods with a smile and the vacancy in her eyes dissipating. And I turn to go change, wishing there was something I could do to keep Violet safe from the horrors of this world.

I’m going to murder Violet.

The brisk cold air of the night still reaching my bones even with my cloak on. I cling the material tighter to my chest as I cross the courtyard hoping I blend in with the dark shadows of the night. I shouldn’t even be the one out here tonight. After reading Brennan’s guide to surviving Basgiath, Violet took it upon herself a few days ago to find out who our first challenge partners were. In turn she knew of a flower that grew in a tree near the lake that would give herself an edge next week. She had asked if she should get enough for two people, but I refused. I had no intention of fighting anyone next week but that even if I did I would not need it.

Violet didn’t intend to have a flare up before she set off on her little escapade tonight. These past few weeks have taken a toll on her body even though she would never say anything. Dain and I knew she is suffering in silence, stubborn just like her mother. Though tonight she couldn’t even get out of bed. Her silvery blue eyes pleading as she asked if I would go get the flower for her. Even gave me a rough sketch of what I was looking for. Not being able to deny the minx anything I agreed and now out in the abnormally cold evening for summer my knee flares in pain, something that occurs when weather shifts, I sustained an injury during a performance when I first started dancing and now, I’m acutely aware of when we are getting a storm, or when General Sorrengail is having a fit. The abnormal chill causes another shooting pain to my knee, and I grit my teeth swallowing the pain.

The tree comes into focus and my mind drifts back to simpler times.

“Dain! I can’t its too high.” I scream clinging tightly to a branch closing my eyes to avoid looking at the daunting distance from the branch to the ground.

“Lydia, I promise I’ll catch you.” Dain voice calls out. “I promise I won’t let you fall.”

I peak an eye open and his arms only slightly bigger than mine are wide open ready to cling onto me should I decide to jump down. “I’m scared.” I whisper.

“I’m your brother, my job is to protect you. I just need you to trust me. Can you do that?” I nod my head and take a steadying breath as I ease my grip on the branch. Shifting in a seated position the skirt of my pale pink dress shifting with me. “That’s it. Now jump!”

I close my eyes and take that leap a shrill scream erupting from my throat as the air whirled around my ears. Arms gripped my shoulders and knees. “See,” Dains voice; a soothing balm over my fears, “You are safe. So long as I breathe, I will always keep you safe, Lydia. I promise.” I latch my arms around his neck and squeeze him tight.

“I love you, Dain.”

Another cold breeze kisses my cheeks as I’m brought to the present, where it’s not warm and sunny, but warm with the looming threat of rain above. Where my brother and I are not close and may as well be strangers. The only person who would protect me from the monsters lurking in the shadows being myself. I shake the looming thoughts reminding myself that I am here for a task.

I lighten my steps to keep them quiet and not draw attention to myself. To further ease my worries of being caught as I loom closer to the tree, I imagine that I’m not a cadet out past curfew in a war college I want nothing to do with, but instead a wraith dancing across the stage, undetected from the royal guards. The orchestra’s melodies were one of short beats that matched with footsteps, a dark undertone to build the tension for the audience, as though I may be caught. My movements highlight my ability to flip and contort my body, in place of my normal languid long movements.

My feet move on their own accord as I dance with a face covering to conceal my identity, for if the guards realized there was an assassin on their grounds, they would likely kill me. In swift movements, as though I’m galloping toward the tower, where my sworn enemy waits for me at the top. I stretch my body as if I was on my tiptoes I would be able to reach the man who was destined to be my enemy. Who became my lover instead. Lovers destined to be apart, who against the odds found moments to be together. The music roars in my ears as the short beats of the music shift to one of longing and passion.

I place my foot in the slot made for my dance shoes and begin my accent my lover waiting for me at the top of the tower. The music rises in tandem with my ascent and dramatically I falter on a step acting as though I lost my footing. The music in tandem with the music building to a climactic moment, the audience gasping thinking I will fall. As gracefully as slid, I pushed my body back against the set piece and continued my ascension.

My forehead collides with a tree trunk, and I yelp in surprise. Reality rearing its hideous form from my beautiful daydream to reveal I am halfway up the tree. How I didn’t hit any other branches takes me by surprise, but I continue, keeping my eyes peeled for the flower Violet needs.

Spotting the delicate looking but also dangerous plant I settle myself on a large branch that supports my weight and I gather a few of the buds and place it in the vile that the youngest Sorrengail sibling provided for me. Once I gather enough for Violet to use, I place the vile in my pocket and set to lower myself from the tree where I hear voices. Lying on my stomach keeping myself flushed against the tree branch as three cloaked figures come into view.

The three lower their cloaks and my heart stops. The pink hair of the marked one that destroyed Violets shoulder at our practice round of challenges. Garrick’s curls appeared from the cloak along with his annoyingly handsome smirk. Finally, Xaden Riorson, and in the moonlight, I can’t deny that his beauty whooshes the breath out of me. I especially try to keep the fact that his body close to mine when I ran into him at the gym plays across my mind periodically and heat pools in my stomach at the though of his hands on me and his lips…

The shuffling of more feet pulls me from stupor as more marked ones approach, I know because most have opted to not wear any coverings and let reveal their relics with pride. I scrunch my brows; this meeting is against the codex. The marked ones are not supposed to congregate in groups larger than three. A ridiculous rule, as these children are paying for the crimes of their parents but regardless a rule they are actively breaking. I pray to whatever gods can hear to keep me hidden. Xaden only needs to look up to see I’m there to expose that I’m listening and because of who I’m related to; he has grounds to kill me for simply being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

I am going to murder Violet.

As the group of Marked one’s settle is when Xaden’s voice booms in the courtyard. “Alright, let’s get started.”

A person in the back of the group perks up, “I am having a difficult time with History.”

Imogen snorts, “Because of the dates, or because of the lies?” I roll my eyes at her, I may agree that I don’t believe what they are teaching is accurate especially after talking to Lian last year but to stupidly question out loud in the open where anyone could hear is foolish and the quickest to get yourself executed for treason.

“Both.” The young man mutters. Movement on my leg causes me to jolt and I clamp a hand over my mouth to prevent me from shrieking as I look at my leg only to find my leg hidden in the shadows, and it almost feels like the shadows are caressing my leg as if in comfort. Feeling my heartrate regulate I lay back down in my position and try to remain quiet as Garrick answers the young boy.

As the hour ticks by I learn that Xaden is helping the marked ones get through their time here. They like me didn’t ask to be here but must make the best of the dangerous situation their parents unknowingly put them in. My eyes constantly find Xaden’s figure through this meeting and how he looks almost fatherly, the way he’s standing, and the words of comfort and advice causes my chest to tighten. Xaden is more of a loving father to these people than my father ever was to me. Once again, I felt movement against my leg only to find darkness and my brows knit in confusion.

“What of Lydia Aetos and Violet Sorrengail?” A girl in front quips up in front and my blood runs cold.

“What of them?” Garrick questions back in a tone that can only be described as a warning as he crosses his arms.

“Their parents are the reason we’re here against our will. When do we get to punish them for their crimes? It’s clear we can’t touch Dain, but surely, we can take out the twinkle toed princess?”

“Lydia Aetos and Violet Sorrengail, are mine to handle.” Xaden says with cool indifference though his tone edged on being scolding. “I will remind you, Cadet, that Violet and Lydia didn’t ask to be here either. Violet was studying to be a scribe and you’ve all seen Aetos dance. Neither of them wanted to be here. They are trapped in the same position as we are by the exact same people.”

“You plan on sparing them?” The girl retorts her voice bordering on shrieking. “My mom and older sister are dead because of them. I think taking their children evens the score.”

“Fall in line, Cadet. The two girls are not your kill. I said I am going to handle it. Believe me no one has more reason to hate those two than me.” A sinking feeling wraps me into a state of paralysis. The memory of his hands on me shatters like glass, of course he has every reason to hate me for what my father did. Of course he would want to settle the score, blinded simply by the fact that he’s attractive, I forgot how lethal he is.

The silence permeates over the courtyard, “If you don’t have any other questions then we’re done here.” Imogen commands her nose in the air. “Make sure you go in groups of three to not raise suspicion.”

The group begins to disband in their merry groups of three murmuring about the happenings of this meeting. Imogen and Xaden left together as Garrick waved them off leaning against the tree, watching them go with ease. Silence falls leaving the creatures of the night to sing their beautiful melodies. It almost lulls me to sleep as Garrick’s voice breaks me from the trance, “Have a good night, Pretty Girl, and good luck.” He pauses as my heart thunders out of my chest, and chuckles pushing himself off the trunk of the tree, “You’re gonna’ need it.” He begins to walk away, and I’m left alone in a state of confusion.

I wait a few minutes to ensure that everyone has left before I make my descent. Landing on the grass with a soft thud, I take a moment to admire the moonlight reflecting the rippling waves, a smile on my face in the beauty of it. Pulling my gaze away from the water I attempt to lift my leg to walk only to find it won’t move. Looking down tendrils of darkness are wrapped snuggly against both ankles keeping my feet planted to ground. I attempt to move again and almost scream out when a low chuckle emerges behind me, whipping around my wavey hair falling over my shoulder as I meet Gold-flecked Onyx eyes and my heart falls into my stomach as Xaden’s figure emerges into the moonlight. A slight tilt of his lips as he crosses his arms.

“You’re not where you’re supposed to be, Kitten.”

To Be Continued!!

Some I tagged that wouldn't let me link if that happened I'm so sorry!

Story Tags: @milswrites @lady-of-tearshed @marvelsmylife @sherayuki @misslady246

@thelov3lybookworm @a-frog-with-a-laptop @randomperson1234sblog @garricks4thwingqueen @leastlikelytoachieve

@clayme123 @sweetsformysoul @nickishadow139 @bada-lee-ily @andreperez11

@pit-and-the-pen @demi321win-chester @aelincaddel @nighttimemoonlover

Enjoy!!

#xaden x reader #xaden riorson x reader #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing xaden #xaden riorson #xaden and sgaeyl #xaden riorson x lydia aetos

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bubblegum-cherry-lips · 6 months

Text

when patience runs out.

18+

summary: you were teasing remus, and now it's time for revenge.

prompt: day 1 - table sex (prompts from this post)

pairing: remus lupin x (female) reader

tags: p in v, breathplay, a bit of rough sex and some mild choking

word count: 549

You know you've pushed it too far when, in the middle of your teasing, the ground beneath you is gone as Remus lifts you onto the table, stepping into the space between your knees until he is so close you can feel his breath on your cheeks.

He's got that look in his eyes that you know you should be slightly afraid of (in a good way), but you're not, because all you can think of is how his hand moves down your stomach and over your panties.

“You never know when to stop, do you?” He moves the soft material to the side and when he slips his fingers into you, his lips are on yours to swallow the moan that slips from them, desperate and needy as he moves the fingers slowly, while avoiding all the good spots.

“You weren't paying attention to me.”

“Well, I am paying attention to you now.” The kiss that follows is violent, all teeth and that raw need that Remus sometimes brings to the surface, the one that makes your head spin. You're holding onto him, feeling his fingers stretch you and scissor you, thumb somehow constantly missing your clit. When he grins into the kiss, you wish you have the strength to glare at him - but everything feels so good and you cave in.

“P-Please.”

“Oh no, dove. You had the chance to be a good girl,” He barely brushes your clit and you want to whine, to chase his hand as it pulls back. He’s pushing you onto the table, hand firmly around your neck until you're laying down on the hard surface and your pussy is right there on the edge of the table. The hand around your throat doesn't leave, and neither does Remus’ gaze - he doesn't break eye contact even when he slips into you, the stretch with almost zero preparation being simultaneously too much and not enough. It draws a moan out of your throat, but it’s barely a whisper because Remus’ hand is squeezing it, a few experimental thrusts turning into a steady rhythm.

“Now it’s my time to tease you.”

The slow rhythm stretches on, until you feel so desperate that you can't stop the tears - and even then he doesn't make you cum. He kisses your cheeks, tasting the tears on them, and only when you become a blubbering mess, a string of pleas falling from your lips, does he pick up the pace.

He's pounding into you, the poor table beneath you making all sorts of noises, but they are almost fully drowned out by your moans and your keens. When Remus’ fingers finally start rubbing your clit, it doesn't take you long to cum. You cum with a whimper on your lips, and he keeps chasing his own release through your orgasm, until everything becomes too much, every touch like fire against your overstimulated body.

When he slips out of you, his fingers are off your throat - they move to your cheek instead, and you can't help but nuzzle into his hand.

“You're a menace.” He tries to sound like he's annoyed by that, but he fails.

“Mhm. But I'm your favorite menace.”

The exasperated look on his face is ruined by a grin fighting to break free.

#marauders smut #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #DecemberEvent2023

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gogobootz1 · 6 months

Text

Chance Encounters of the Elite Kind

Coriolanus Snow x Reader (what can I say? this is where we're at)

Summary: Finally, at one of countless stuffy parties, Coriolanus finds something (someone) interesting.

“Overwhelmed?”

His head snaps to a leather chair, where you already sit, book in hand. He didn’t think anyone else would be in the library.

Not one to be caught in a vulnerable position, he snaps back, “Annoyed, actually.”

“Oh?” You respond in the same tone as before, not looking especially surprised or impressed. Your expression surprised him since he’s been practically drowning in newfound admiration. He's gotten a lot of the starry-eyed look ever since he’s been climbing through the social ranks.

“Half the people here can’t hold an intelligent conversation,” he shrugs. You snicker, and he feels an odd sense of pride grow at making a beautiful stranger laugh.

“You needed a break, then?” You ask, a small smile now painting your face.

“I thought the books would be better company,” he replies slyly, a smirk starting to rise on the edges of his mouth.

“Well, that’s your problem Mr. Snow,” you say, without malice. His smirk is goes as fast as it came.

“Excuse me?” He doesn’t like the fact that you know him when he doesn’t know you, and he especially doesn’t like where this conversation is going.

“You think you’re better than everyone,” you assert, and he’s surprised at your neutral tone. His eyes narrow in anticipation of what you’ll say next. “The problem is, you’re right.”

He can’t help the way his eyes widen at your statement. It was entirely the opposite of the judgment he’d been expecting to spew from your painted-red lips.

You roll your eyes at his reaction, and before he can even get a word in, you start again, “It’s not exciting to be so far ahead when they can’t hardly keep up. So, the game loses its charm.” You shrug and begin to stand, setting the book on the table beside you.

“The game?” His eyes bear into yours.

“Yes,” you emphasize like he was foolish to ask such a question. “Life. The game of social checkers that every person here is desperately trying to win.” You shake your head, a foul expression on your face as you condemn the guests of this party.

He’s never heard someone express such a similar outlook to his own. In the few minutes you’ve spoken, he’s become fascinated. As he watches you walk to the door, he comes to the conclusion that you also think these people are below you.

You’re about to leave before his words stop you, “Yet you’ll go join them?” You cast a scolding look over your shoulder.

“No, I’ll return to my rooms,” you say before exiting. “I prefer chess,” the words are for him, although your back is turned.

He tracks your movements from the doorway of the impressive library. You navigate the hallway then turn a corner like you’ve been doing it your whole life. Probably because you have.

He could kick himself. The hosts of this party don’t go out terribly often because they don’t have to. Arguably the oldest, wealthiest, and most well-respected of the elite Capitol families, they only throw parties on occasion to remind everyone of their superiority. And they keep their daughter under lock and key.

Suddenly, he has a new goal to add to his list.

----------------------------------------

To the good people of Tumblr- thank you and I'm sorry. I am not immune to skinny blonde men. It's a disease.

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #tbosas #hunger games fanfiction

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taintandviolent · 1 year

Text

I held my nose I closed my eyes - I took a drink; Jimmy x Reader

Summary: Reader is a hypnotist. Jimmy, in one of his drunken nights, cleans out his own supply and stumbles into your caravan to clean you out too. What he finds... is sooo much better. [warnings: 18+! sex pollen fic!! shameless, explicit smut, I'm so serious. female receiving, oral sex, rough sex, mentions of alcohol.]

Also! Hugely inspired by @silverzoomies' mindbogglingly good Quicksilver sex pollen fic - the queen of sex pollen as far as I'm concerned!! Please read it if you haven't!!

taglist: @kaismanwich / @elsamars / @thewolveswithin / @petersevans / @marylovesevanpeters / @80strashbag / @redwoodghost / @silverzoomies / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @evansb1tch / @yesdevineruler / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @evanpetersfansblog / @kaissweetlamb / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @my-own-walker/ @viharmonscorner / @nova-kayne67 / ask to be added!

ao3 link here! | full fic under the cut!

The calliope breathed its melodic tune as your fingers curled back towards your palm. The man in front of you was glassy-eyed and pliable.

“Bark!” You snapped your fingers.

Almost immediately, the man let out a string of excited woofs, much to the delight of the audience. Laughs and scattered applause filled the tent, the loudest of laughs coming from the front row — from his presumed wife.

“Ladies and gentlemen! While I am using hypnotism for your pleasure and amusement today, I implore you… to consider that hypnotism can be used for good. It can be used to cure sicknesses of addiction, turn the fearful into the brave… or perhaps make someone fall in love with you.”

The man swayed languidly back and forth, following your graceful fingers as they swept through air. You brought the man’s attention to you with one finger, whispering soft words of release. You snapped your fingers for a final time and the man came to, dropped back into his own reality in a mess of confusion and wobbly knees. Unbeknownst to you, this regular Joe wasn’t the only man unsteady on his feet. A dozen or so yards away, the beloved Lobster Boy was drunkenly stumbling into your trailer, looking for some more booze to drown his woes.

As he stood in front of your cabinet, he surveyed the collection. Dried herbs, crystals, some of those cards that he’d seen the travelling gypsies use… and a ton of bottles. Scanning until he found something that most resembled some liquor — though everything was questionable — Jimmy palmed the one of the two largest bottles, lifting it to the light to get a better look. The dark liquid sloshed heavily around inside, and while he knew he was drunk, he could’ve sworn it sparkled.

Flipping the cork out with his thumb, Jimmy pinched his nose, squeezed his eyes shut and threw the contents of the bottle into the back of his throat, having enough to sense to avoid whatever taste was going to meet him. Whatever it was went down smoothly, leaving a syrupy, sweet coating on his throat. A line of deep burgundy trickled from the corner of his mouth, and his tongue flicked out to catch it.

“Hooo,” he grimaced and shuddered hard enough to lose his grip on the bottle. It clattered to the floor loudly. “That’s rough.”

His throat felt warm, but the feeling started in his thighs, of all places. Underneath his dusty black jeans, the muscles felt like he’d gone and pressed them against a bed of coals. It was hot in Jupiter, not that hot — but Jimmy Darling felt like he had the fever of the century. Sweat beaded at his hairline, running salty ribbons down his temples.

And then, he felt it. Concealed in his cotton briefs, heat rushed to his groin at breakneck speed. It couldn’t have taken more than thirty seconds for his cock to stand at attention as though he’d been working it up all night. His jeans tented and the pressure wasn’t very forgiving. No, it was downright painful. The blood switched heads and he could think of nothing else but you. Jimmy wanted to be inside you, feeling your weeping cunt clench with each thrust. He wanted to lick his fingers clean of your — “Come on!”

Jimmy drew the back of his hand across his forehead, wiping at the sweat. As the seconds ticked by, his body temperature continued to climb. He knew he had to do something before he actually became a lobster, bright red and steaming. With one hand, Jimmy unbuckled his pants and yanked the button free of its slit. The small give in restriction allowed his stiff cock to breathe, but Jimmy pulled the elastic of his briefs under his balls, wincing at the static electric feeling that physical touch brought.

His cock sprung free, bouncing heavily. It looked full, and pre-cum was already leaking out the velvet soft tip. He couldn’t describe it mentally any other way — needs emptyin’.

You had graciously taken one more participant before making your way back to your caravan, pulling your high heels off as soon as you were out of the tent. You padded softly across the grass, humming some disjointed melody. The tips had been good tonight, and you’d been looking forward to the iced tea in your tiny little fridge all day. "…Gotta’ hank o’ hair and a piece o’ bone and made a walkin’-talkin’ honeycomb.”

Stepping onto the wood crates that served as doorsteps, you pulled the door towards you, still singing quietly.

“…well uh honeycomb, wontcha’ be my baby, well uh honeycomb wontcha’ be my own — ”

With your index finger still curled around the handle of the screen door, your body froze, voice leaving your throat. Jimmy Darling leaned against your bed. Not just that — Jimmy Darling leaned against your bed, caramel locks plastered to his forehead with sweat. His pants were undone in his lap, and his fused fingers were glistening with his own cum. You’d only looked at it for a split second before you clamped your hand over your eyes, but it wasn’t soon enough to stop the visual searing its way into your brain. The way the swollen, red tip slid through his conjoined fingers as he clumsily tried to jerk himself off…

At the sound of the door, Jimmy immediately started crawling towards you, muttering desperate words of gratitude. Like a hound on the scent of a rabbit, his nose had clocked the earthy sweetness of your perfume oil the second you’d walked in. He needed to get closer to it and to you. There was another smell — a sweeter one — that he licked off his lips as he made a beeline for you.

“Oh, baby, baby, baby….” He growled low, words separated by hiccups. “I’m real glad you’re here. I messed up… uhhuuummmm - real bad.”

On his knees in front of you, Jimmy wrapped his hands around your legs, claws stroking the backs of your knees. Paired with the fact that he’d never called you baby, the contrast of his warm, strong hands against your delicate legs gripped your core, setting the first trap of arousal. A moment later, his lips collided with your shins, feverishly peppering kisses along them as he worked his way up.You closed your eyes, exhaling hard through your nose.

His head dove under your skirt and you let out a shrill yelp.

“J-Jimmy Darling! Stop, stop!” You wrenched your leg from his grip, his slick fingers gliding off your calf muscle as you hastily stepped around him. “What in the hell has gotten into you!?”

He fell forward onto his hands, letting out a sound you’d never heard a man make. His dick hung heavy between his legs and thick strands of pre-cum swelled from the tip, stringing to the floor with every slight movement of his hips. His lust just wouldn’t stop yelling, drowning out every other rational thought he had. It was as loud as when Elsa brought her megaphone to the stage, shouting orders at the top of her lungs -- louder maybe. Jimmy reached for his aching cock to give it a few desperate pumps, tightening his grip as he drew towards the base. The sensation crippled him, bringing him forward onto his face. …so damn sensitive…. I need her…..

He’d always been able to satisfy himself, even as drunk as he was now; after every meeting with the Girls, when some gal in the crowd got a little too flirty — he’d never had an issue taking himself in his pincers and rubbing one out. But this… this wasn’t enough and he was damn tired.

Every cell in your body was begging you to keep staring at the way he handled himself, alternating between stroking the thick shaft, and doing quick, smaller thrusts to stimulate the ruby tip. Jimmy groaned into the vinyl floor of your trailer as he decorated it with strings of white.

Did he just cum…?

Underneath your skirt, your cunt fluttered with a bloom of heat.

Although it had been difficult to walk away, you somehow managed and stopped just short of your kitchen counter, which had been converted into a short shelf. All of your tonics, amulets and tools of your craft were neatly arranged there. Were. They were…. Previously. The empty space in your cabinet was suddenly very apparent.

Suddenly noticing that you had left — or maybe he smelled that you had left, Jimmy’s lids peeled away from each other. He turned his head just enough to stare up at you with heavy-lidded eyes. The curve of your ass underneath your skirt made his dick twitch upwards, reaching for relief. With his cheek smashed against the vinyl flooring, Jimmy’s words were distorted behind you. “Aaah— you’re sucha’…. dream Dolly, you know that?”

You closed your eyes, kicking your foot to the side. It collided with something, with an unmistakable tink! just like you’d predicted it would. Sucking in another deep breath, you dropped your gaze to your feet. A very empty amber bottle had been tossed haphazardly to the floor.

You heard him shuffling to his feet behind you, catching himself on whatever surface was near enough for him to grip. Through ragged pants, he continued. “I’ve always thought that — ever since you got here, the very first day…. Laid eyes on you and thought ‘Hot damn! We’ve got a sex-pot headlining.’ Youkn—”

“Jimmy…?” you asked, warningly. Planting both of your hands firmly on the counter, you pacified your mind, lassoing it in from the field of panic-stricken thoughts. “Tell me you didn’t drink this whole thing….”

Instead of dispelling your fears, a broad chest pressed against your back and two arms wound themselves around the front of your hips. Jimmy’s body felt like a furnace against yours, and the sudden pressure between your ass cheeks had you clawing the laminate countertop like a feral animal.

He’s still hard as a rock…

He was sweaty and smelled like sun and liquor; a smell that you’d become very attracted to in the few weeks you’d been here. Every time he passed by, you’d inhale, filling your lungs with it. He kissed the nape of your neck like he’d just got home from work, missing you all day.

“How many times have you orgasmed?” You didn’t want to know the answer.

“Mmm, only uh’ couple times…. I’m sss-sorry baby…” he slurred, pressing his face into your hair, loudly inhaling the scent of it. His voice was barely a whisper, but it was so close to your ear, it sent shivers down your spine. “You aren’t mad at me, are ya?”

His little mistake wasn’t about having too much of his Mama’s hooch in that little flask she carried around. Well, maybe that too… You’d got those potions from a lady in New Orleans in 1946 and she’d warned you about the dosage… “a silver teaspoon, nothin’ more, you understand?” She said it came straight from Marie Laveau and wasn’t to be trifled with. Jimmy Darling had consumed a whole bottle and now, his swollen cock was dribbling into the cotton fabric of your skirt.

“No,” you breathed shakily, reaching up to press your middle finger to the bridge of your nose. “I’m not… but you’re in for a real storm, Jimmy Darling. It’s — was— love potion, you know that?”

“Love potion, huh? Didn’t think that was real.” He questioned lazily how to fix it, more interested in his hands sliding up your stomach, manoeuvring until they’d found skin.

“You have to do what you were put on Earth to do. That basic instinct — and I sure I wish I could tell you once would be enough. But Jimmy,” you paused, inhaling sharply. “The dose for a man of your size is a teaspoon.”

“A man of my size…” Woozy chuckles vibrated your shoulders. “Seems like you’re the gal to see — you know an awful lot about it.”

Frustrated, you cocked your hip to the side, doing your best to sort out the thoughts. You knew the only solution was to fuck it out of his system, but you hadn’t really thought you’d be ending your night with him. Jimmy let out a loud moan, bucking his hips further in between your legs. You felt the heat of it, searing through the thin fabric. He bucked again and rolled his forehead along your shoulders, whining.

“Hooo…. you can’t move like that, baby. I’ll flip.”

You whimpered his name as you lifted your eyes to the ceiling, cursing whatever deities were looking down on you, waiting on bated breath for your next move. You’d waited a long time for something like this. So long in fact, that you had almost turned to waving your enchanting fingers in front of his face, like one of the ticket-holders, hypnotising him to look at you for longer than a few minutes. Instead, his mercurial alcoholism had planted him right in front of you. Well, behind you.

With his hips still rutting into you, grinding incessantly, he murmured into your ear: “I’m sorry I’m actin’ this way… but you haveta’ help me, baby…. Help me, please… I’m gonna’ lose my mind if I do—“

“I know, Jimmy.”

As you walked your legs out to the sides, you hoisted the back of your skirt above your ass. Watching intently, he backed his hips up allowing you room to reach between your legs and search for him. Your fingertips grazed the base, just above his balls. With a final prayer that Jimmy Darling wouldn’t forget about you as soon as the potion had run its course in his body, you wrapped your fingers around his shaft, already slick with a generous coating of pre-cum, and guided him in between your thighs.

Jimmy’s hands were suddenly at your hips, taking fistfuls of your skirt and shoving it up towards the small of your back. With a grunt, he wound one of his claws around the hem of your satin underwear, wiggling it down from one side. He thrust his hips forward and the hot tip slipped past your entrance, grinding into your clit from the underside.

Jimmy’s low, honey voice was reduced to high pitched whimpers and broken whines. Your insides pulsed with a hungry need…

“Hoh-god…”

“No,” you spat. “This isn’t right, not like this. Jimmy, I really —“

He didn’t let you finish. Conjoined fingers gripped your biceps hard, spinning you around so fast, the intent was blurry. For a minute, his face was contorted, frustrated and the way his chest heaved wound a nervous coil in your stomach.

Instead of striking you, or whatever you thought he was going to do, Jimmy crushed his lips against you, desperate for any sort of erotic contact. His hands found their way to your breasts, cupping them, while his thumb flicked at your nipples over the fabric. “I gotta’ have you, honey…”

You pursed your lips, tightening them into a thin line. In one fluid, frustrated motion, you pulled your shirt over your head. You unclasped your bra, holding his gaze and barked: “Then, take me.”

He forced his tongue into your mouth. You remembered the time you’d bit into a honeycomb as a child. As sweet as you thought it would be, and as sweet as it was, there was something very overwhelming about it. There was a word for it — cloying. As he explored your mouth, Jimmy tasted bitter, and cloyingly sweet… and god, was he drooling? There was so much spit that you had to swallow a mouthful just to avoid choking. His tongue wrestled with yours, teeth biting at your lips until they were red and swollen.

Your lids snapped open and you felt your pupils dilate. A warm, sweet heat rose from the base of your throat, filling your mouth. There were hints of honey, and spices, and underneath a very bitter fruitiness.

Oh… oh no.

He didn’t know what was going on inside of you, but he revelled in the way you started moaning and whimpering into his mouth, grinding your cunt against his groin. Jimmy’s hands dropped to grip the soft, pillowy flesh of your hips, his thumb pressing into the softness. “Fuck baby, your body… you can’t see these hips under that skirt you wear all the time.”

“This ain’t enough,” he cooed, pushing you towards your small sofa-bed with kisses. “I need to fill you up, Y/N….”

You were more than willing to let him guide you to the bed; though you knew the majority of your disposition was due to you already having a big, silly crush on him. Jimmy lowered himself down, one knee at a time, keeping his eyes locked on the table laid in front of him.

Hastily, Jimmy pulled your skirt to the floor, kicking it behind him. He made quick work of your underwear too — though those didn’t join the pile of clothes. He lifted those, the satin fabric dangling from one of his thickened fingers, swaying back and forth. You did your best to avoid looking at the wet spot you’d left in the crotch of them, though Jimmy seemed to have locked onto that and only that.

“Pink, huh?”

You chewed your bottom lip bashfully. “I’m not all crystal balls and veils, Jimmy…”

At those words, his eyes flashed to your cunt, pupils dilating. He chucked your underwear over his shoulder, refocusing his attention onto you. Jimmy spread your pussy with his knuckles, exposing the pink, glistening flesh. His laboured breaths slowed as he focused, watching every clench and twitch. “Baby, baby, baby….”

He was just staring at it. Your cunt ached as he teased it with feather-light touches.

“Can I?”

You moaned, asking for clarification. Not that you needed it — he could do whatever he wanted to you and he wouldn’t hear a peep of protest from you. You were a mess, like butter in his claws.

“Can I eat it, baby? I’m hungry… I’m a growin’ boy…”

It took a lot of effort to lift your head to look at him. You were swimmy; everything felt rose-tinted.

“Yeah,” you nodded, wetting your throat. “Yeah, Jimmy, but I think if you grow any more… we’ll have a problem.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, pausing to look at himself. It was true; his cock had never been this hard, and the tip was such a deep red that it was heading to plum.

With one segment buried deep inside your slick cunt and the other curled back towards his palm, Jimmy leaned in. His plush lips pressed tenderly against her, tongue slipping out to taste her in between kisses. You strained against his grip, writhing like a worm on a hook.

“You taste so good,” he murmured, finally pulling away from her. His chin was glistening — you almost wanted to apologise for the mess you’d made. He didn't seem to mind though, as he reached up, wiping at his chin with his hand. The way his thick, fleshy segments looked coated in your wetness, the way they caught the dull, yellow lighting of your trailer — it was enough to make you cum right then and there. You collapsed back on the bed in a mess of whimpers and Jimmy took that opportunity to dive back in.

He caved his tongue to envelop your clit, the vibrations of his moans sending a shockwave through your core. Before he started pumping his fingers in and out, Jimmy Darling did something that could’ve sent you into another dimension; he just sucked at your clit, flicking his tongue over the most sensitive spot he could.

He slurped at your cunt like an ice cream cone, one that was melting faster than he could catch — but he did a damn good job of getting every drop. He was loud and sloppy. He’s so hungry for it…

Your body trembled violently as you came, grinding against his mouth as long as you could before he backed up, dipping his head further in between your legs so he could feel the clench of your orgasm around his tongue.

He straightened up with a satisfied ‘Mmm’, jerking his head to the side with a smile. “Sweet as candy, baby…”

Crossing his arms over his torso, Jimmy pulled his white undershirt up and over his shoulders before tossing it behind him. Ribbons of sweat streamed down the tanned skin, leaving glittering lines across his chest.

“Jimmy,” you whined. “Hand me the other bottle.”

He obeyed, reaching behind him for it. His big hand closed around the cool, brown glass, and brought the cork to his mouth. His teeth clamped down and yanked it free. A small whiff of the potion inside made his eyes roll back, but he quickly regained control, looking down at you with a devilish little smirk. He knew exactly what you’d planned to do. He took one generous gulp, swallowed, and said:

“Open up, toots.”

You obeyed, and Jimmy Darling poured the love potion — too, too much of it down your throat. You coughed, sputtering some of it onto the pillow of your bottom lip, and he lapped it up.

The devil worked fast, but hoodoo potions worked faster.

Sweat beaded up from every pore, coating your body in an aroused sheen. You’d felt like you’d been sunbathing all afternoon, with no lake or pool in sight. You felt like your cunt was on fire. It had a heartbeat as strong as the one encased in your ribs. You had one thing on your mind — and that thing was stroking himself as he watched the change in you.

“Ohhhh, shit….” He took a deep breath, inhaling the pheromones that had abruptly filled the tiny space. You smelled them too, and the adrenaline dump made your muscles quiver. Jimmy’s dark brown eyes were wild as they locked onto your eyes, his cheeks flushed red. “Oh, now we’re cookin’.”

You jerked forward. You needed him, you needed every bit of him and the idea of teasing him drove you wild. You raked your nails along his heated stomach, tracing a line of hair the colour of brown sugar, following it down to a bush of the same shade. With your bottom lip swelling between your teeth, you planted both hands on his torso and dropped your head between your shoulders to tease him with your breath. You exhaled over the reddened tip, watching in delight as it twitched closer to you. Your lips ghosted over it, suctioning around just the tip. You swallowed, and opened your mouth wider, letting your tongue flop onto the underside of his shaft.

“Fuck…FUCK!”

Jimmy came undone, clenching his teeth as he bucked his hips against your mouth. Up and down, your head bobbed, stroking his cock with your mouth. Your cheeks caved as you hungrily swallowed the ropes of cum that hit the back of your throat.

That didn’t last long. With a strong hand, he guided you back, pushing you back onto the bed. You felt the mattress shift to Jimmy’s weight as he climbed behind you.

“C’mere, baby… lay this way.”

He guided you into a horizontal positioning, curling his body behind yours. His chest pressed against your back, warm and slick with sweat. His soft lips scattered kisses along the nape of your neck, down your shoulder.

Jimmy gripped your leg at the thigh, holding it straight. His cock was rock hard, and a thick, clear glob of pre-cum welled from the slit on his head as he lined up to your swollen, aching pussy. Your jaws ache at the sight of it, wanting to smear it over your lips like a gloss.

“You wanna’….” He inhaled a shaky breath. “You wanna’ feel the motion of the ocean, baby?”

You squeaked out a ‘yeah’. After nuzzling his nose behind your ear, The Lobster Boy jerked his hips so hard that the stretch of your cunt had you wincing and grinding your teeth together. But god, that feels so good… He sunk in, bottoming out almost right away — but the rhythm that boy had…. He was fast. He was fast, and he whined every time your cunt had swallowed half, shuddering the rest of it in. Every few thrusts, Jimmy would bunny-hump you with his cock deep inside, revelling in the way your cunt hugged his girth — squeezed it, even.

You, on the other hand, were feeling like your body was going to burst into flames at any moment. Your pussy had hardly had any time to recover, but you screamed out another orgasm, pulsating around The Lobster Boy.

He pulled out quickly, his ink-pool eyes glittering with a new position. With his dick secured in his hand, Jimmy got to his feet, stepping carefully off onto the floor. He let go to snatch you at the waist and wrench you harshly to the edge of the bed.

“Go, Jimmy…”

He pulled you forward slowly, dipping his chin to his chest to watch as your walls clenched around him. Your pussy was blush-red and swollen; a visual he’d treasure for the rest of his life. Once the tip of his head stretched past your entrance, Jimmy yanked your hips back against his. Hard. The sound your cheeks made when they slapped against his stomach drove him wild, and whatever apprehensions he had about hurting you went out the window.

Through unhesitating thrusts, he asked: “Doesit’ feel good, baby?”

You could only nod, seeing the ceiling of your trailer vibrate each time your bodies connected. The trailer has to be moving — he’s shaking the trailer, oh god.

“Say my name again.”

“Ji-Jimmy… oh my god, Jimmy!”

You were two orgasms in, and he was pounding a third out of you. The muscles in your legs were quivering, and losing strength quickly. Your vision was overexposed and twinkly, tears stained your cheeks.

“Jimmy - wait - wait, it’s too—“

You whimpered desperately, your fingers dropping away from your overstimulated clit. Jimmy straightened up, one hand moved to your shoulder, leaving the other still clamped on your hip. Your shrill screams were loud enough to break the barrier of your trailer, but when he tightened his grip on your shoulder to use it as leverage, you didn’t care.

He was fucking you deeper and harder than you’d ever been fucked, and maybe than he’d ever fucked. Blinded by ecstasy, he couldn’t hear a word. Every carnal instinct he had kicked into full-drive, galloping towards the finish line of pumping you full of his seed.

You turned your head, screaming into the mattress as your pussy shuddered one final time, leaking the wettest orgasm you’d ever had onto his cock. She clenched around his tip like a vice, and the sensation drove Jimmy to the edge.

The knot inside Jimmy unravelled all at once. He let out a deafening groan, spilling his pent-up load into you. Gush after gush flowed into you, and you could feel the hot fluid leaking from your cunt, splashing onto your thighs with each determined thrust he gave.

Eventually, his thrusts became spasmodic, shakily slowing to a stop. He collapsed atop you, and reached between your bodies, to tug his softening cock out of you, humming at the sensation.

“Y’know… I really do have the hots for you, baby…. I haven’t slept with a single girl since you waltzed in.”

He exhaled hard. “I gotta’ sleep, doll. I gotta.”

By the time you sat up and slipped your arms into a robe that was draped over a chair, Jimmy was already asleep. The way he curled up on your too-small bed, naked, one hand hanging off the side was easily one of the cutest things you’d seen since drifting to Jupiter. You wouldn’t know until he woke up, but if he was telling the truth…. You’d spend every last day worshipping the ground he walked on.

A delicate rapping pulled your attention from Jimmy, who had already started breathing deep in his sleep. Delicately, you pulled a blanket of yours over his bottom half, not wanting whoever was at the door to see him in all his glory.

You made your way to the door in no particular hurry, still floating Cloud Nine. Eventually, you toed open the door and leaned sleepily against the doorframe. The robe barely covered your chest, but at the sight of the visitor, all worries left.

“Have you seen Jimmy?” Maggie asked, her tone of perpetual annoyance making you smile. “I needed t—

“I have,” you cooed. “I sure have.”

Like the nosy bitch you knew she was, she poked her head in. It didn’t take her long to find him, and hear his soft snoring.

“Oh, drop dead twice,” she muttered, retreating.

You stopped, an amused smirk twisting your lips. So, she had wanted him. Clocked that one. “What, and look like you?”

Her wide eyes narrowed into slits, lips pursed indignantly. With a toss of her dirty blonde hair, she marched off towards the tent, fists clenched at your sides.

You might’ve felt bad for the poor wretch if Jimmy Darling’s cum wasn’t dripping down your thigh. Might’ve.

#tryin' something new with the headers... there aren't enough jimmy gifs and I need something better to match the vibe of my fics lmao #Jimmy Darling #Jimmy Darling smut #jimmy darling x reader #jimmy darling x you #ahs smut #american horror story smut #fanfiction #ahs fanfiction #ahs freak show #American Horror Story Freak Show #Evan Peters #myfics

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xenizaation · 1 year

Text

permanent

pairing: fem! reader x choi san (ft kim hongjoong)

genre: angst, friends to lovers, smut

general warnings: depictions of a depressive state, mourning of partner, self-blame and slight ptsd

sexual warnings: dirty talk, pet names, manual stimulation, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie,

word count: 12.6k

summary: they say moving on is hard. you find that it's even harder when in the process of it, you have to accept your feelings for your friend as well.

less important a/n: ok so this was supposed to be like 5k long 🙃🙃...chile, anyways. uhm, this came from me bottling my emotions up for the last 5 months and I just wanted to let some of my suffering out in some kind of way. even if it is far from what I feel (I feel the need to specify that the events related below aren't inspired from my life, happily so). read at your own discretion, for I have tried my best to make you feel horny and miserable at the same time 🥰🥰🥰 stay safe xoxo

a/n from long later: hi i wrote this about a year ago and i found it in my drafts and hey why wouldn't i post it after not posting something in ages? haha. enjoy! altough it's probably rlly bad and full of mistakes hihi, i ain't reading this again to correct it. i love you muah

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The cold air felt like needles poking at your bare skin. You ran as fast as you could, barefoot in the woods, feeling every little scratch that was tearing open the skin of your soles and staining it with fresh blood. Your lungs were holding hostage a fire as you were inhaling the cold night air, and the sweat you felt dribbling down your face and back was only of help to make you feel even colder. You looked behind, once, twice, and then a third time too, slowly reducing your pace until it came to a halt.

"What am I running away from?" you ask yourself looking around. There was nothing, no one after you. So why were you running for your life? Your heart starts to beat faster as you hear screams coming from deep within the trees. But you don't run. You can't run anymore. You just fall to the ground, embracing your knees to your chest.

"Me!"

You don't turn around. That voice is way too familiar to make you turn around. Your mouth hangs open as you try to scream but no sound comes out as your muffled moans remain drowned in the deepest point if your throat.

You gasp for air as you wake up shaking your head relentlessly, in order to try to snap yourself back to the reality you're in- so your heart would stop beating so damn fast. You groan as you look over at the watch on your nightstand and see it spell 3:37 AM. You grab your phone from next to it and shut your eyes closed at the sudden brightness the screen displays. You manage to decrease it and open your contacts.

"Still awake?" you ask, and you know you shouldn't. He always offers you more than you can give back, more than you deserve. But you can't help yourself. You cannot deny yourself the little peace you still have in your life.

"Yeah, wassup?"

"Can you call?" you hit send and it's a matter of seconds between him receiving the message, him reading the message and then his name popping up on your screen. You answer.

"Again?" San questions from the other end of the phone. You only hum in affirmation. He sighs softly as you lay down on your side, phone trapped between your ear and the pillow. You hear the clicking of the keyboard and mouse clearly, he must be working late again. And yet he always answers. More than many people you've met did for you.

"Tell me a story." you ask once again. For the...well you've lost count.

"You know, one day I'm going to be out of stories," he answers and lets out a chuckle. Bathing in your silence, he takes his time to think about what he could tell you. As he begins, you close your eyes and imagine whatever he is helping you picture inside your head. Be it the times when he was a little kid and used to walk with his grandparents down the side of a river, or the times he was a teen and was always struggling to get out of trouble, San always gave you a vast amount of details that made you worship his each and every story. And they always made you dream something pretty when you dozed out of consciousness with him still talking on the other end. This night was no exception, so when you wake up, you send him a text that expresses your gratitude as always.

"Listen, if you still want a contract renewal you need to publish something within next year," you look at your boss and feel every word he lays out weighing your body down like you're going to fall through the floor. "I get writer's block, I really do. And we gave you time. You took your time. But it's been almost two years now..." his words stop reaching your ears as you're reminded. One year, ten months and twelve days. And still counting. The count will never stop, you realize, as the event it started from cannot be reversed. You will always be stuck in a period of time since it happened.

"You're one of the biggest names here in our publishing house, Y/N. We don't want to lose you but at the same time we can't keep focusing on you if it will be to no avail." he is right. He is always right, your boss. Always had a strategic mindset, and that always helped both of you. Except now. Now he was asking for something you couldn't offer.

"I'm sorry," you manage to blurt out. "I'm trying my best and I know it's not enough." if you had to be honest, hearing yourself say those words out loud made your heart break even more that it already was. Partly because it was true, and the rest? Because it sounded like you were asking for compassion, which you thought was pathetic. You never liked people looking at you the way you caught yourself looking at homeless individuals.

"I'm gonna get something out, ok? I promise you, just please have a little more faith in me. I need you to trust me to be able to do this."

You look up and make eye contact with him. Park Seonghwa was never one who showed compassion. But as his gaze traced over your fingers picking at your cuticles, the dryness of your lips and the shadows of your hollowed eyes, you felt something you grew too accustomed with in the last almost two years of your life.

Pity.

"Come on, let me take you out on Thursday." San pleaded as he was following in your steps down the hallway of the company you worked in. You didn't expect your little trip to talk to your boss would end with this. "You literally have nothing to lose." He completed and you stopped, facing him. You met his familiar and comforting eyes, which always reminded you of a cute fox, and his dimpled smile as he watched you keenly. It has been almost four years since he started working at the same company you did, but since the beginning, you two were more than just work colleagues. It was the type of connection where you would understand each other from simple looks into the other's eyes or where you could easily finish each other's sentences. You liked to consider him your platonic soulmate but you knew that if you hadn't had a relationship at the time you two met, you would've have surely gone out together and maybe made a good couple.

Well...now you didn't have a relationship anymore but you weren't exactly in the right headspace for one.

By now, you and all the rest of your workmates knew how big of a crush he had on you, but you never let it get out of control. You were feeling kind of guilty, to be honest. Knowing that in a way, you were using it to your advantage for your sleepless nights or the ones in which sleep was ruined by nightmares. But you were sure he was getting his benefits from it as well.

"Look, I want to but I really don't wanna be a bitch to you if I suddenly feel like shit." you reply, and in all honestly, it was true. Your mood hasn't been so stable lately, understandably so.

"Well, how about this: if you wake up in a good mood on Thursday and decide it's okay to hang out, you text me, and we do whatever you feel comfortable with. And if we do go out and do something together and you end up feeling like shit then you'll tell me and I'll get you home in the fastest way possible for a human being. How does it sound?"

Not bad. He is giving you every little piece of comfort that you knew you needed but you never asked for. So you agree. It wouldn't be the first time you hang out with San, sure, you never called them dates, because to you they were not. But you knew that for any outsider it looked exactly like that. And who is to blame? You two always worked hand in hand just so well. These no-pressure type of meet-ups you two had always made you feel comfortable so that was why you were considering it this time as well.

Days pass and you spend them stuck in your home, drowning in your bitter memories and your regrets. The taste of guilt never becomes sweet, you think. Not like how alcohol does when you drink more and more of the same kind. No. Guilt only grows in bitterness and in how it burns down your throat, feeling like it swirls all of your insides once it reaches your stomach. In a way, guilt feels like the long estranged sister of love. Both let their essence hover in your mind for however long they like.

As you rise from your bed to make some hot coffee you think of what day it is. Between the mix of reliving the moments long gone in the same apartment you still stand, and the countless intents to come up with something that you could present to your boss, you didn't know which one made you lose track of time more. You checked your phone for a bit of clarity. No new messages or notifications. At this point, everyone knew better than to bother you with their worries.

Thursday.

Well, seems like you had to cancel out on someone, you thought as you tried grabbing the coffee pot on the stove, but lost in your thoughts, you pay no attention to the handle and drop the pot on the kitchen tiled floor as soon as you feel the skin on your palm burn. You swore and quickly took a few steps back so the burning coffee on the ground wouldn't get to your bare feet. You shook your hand trying to get a cold breeze to the inflamed skin but it only made it feel worse. As you stopped to look at the damage you realized it wasn't all that bad, but it sure stung like a motherfucker. You ran your hand under the cold water of the sink and looked to your right. The brown liquid on the ground was expanding, getting in every little crevice in between the tiles.

****

Coffee was getting everywhere. It splashed on the kitchen counters, it was slowly getting under them too. You froze for a few seconds after your mug made contact with the floor, shattering to dozens of pieces.

"Well, that can't be a good sign." your lover said from behind you finishing with a low chuckle. You smiled, turning on your heels and taking in his form. You woke him up, well, the mug woke him up actually. Approaching you slowly, with a slight limp in his walk and his shoulders dropped all the way down, his hair was fluffed up and his skin a nice shade of pale with a few lines from the pillow on his left cheek. He always looked so angelic, you never could put it into words, how it made you feel, seeing him first thing in the morning. It was something that made your insides crazily stir up but made gave you a sense of tranquility, at the same time. That was how loving him usually was. Two opposite sides walking hand in hand. He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer to him, softly pressing his lips against the crown of your head. You joined your hands behind his torso and inhaled deeply. Your heart skipped a beat as your lungs felt intoxicated with his smell.

"Today is the big day, huh?" his voice was still hoarse as he spoke, every word of his drumming in your ears. You nodded.

"I'm really nervous." you answered and let your forehead drop against his shoulder. He hugged you tighter with the hand around your waist and gently pat your head with the other.

"I know, angel. But it's gonna be alright, ok? Your friends will be there, your parents will be there and I will be there. You can lean on me." he said kissing your cheek. "You know that, don't you?" his face right in front of yours, you responded with nothing more than a slow kiss. A kiss that was rehearsed so many times before that your lips and tongues already knew what they had to do, how they had to move around each other. Sometimes it felt like a dream, how everything came so easy with Hongjoong. How you didn't have to think twice about what you wanted from him and with him. And for all you knew, and all he had shown you across the time spent together, he didn't do that either. Every morning next to him felt like the luckiest one, and every night with him ended just the same. And you knew that if you were to live a hundred more years alongside him, you still wouldn't get enough of his embraces, or kisses or just simply him. There was nothing in the world that could cure the insatiable love you felt for the man in front of you.

As he pulled away from the kiss he gestured with his head behind you. "Now how about I clean the mess you made, and you make coffee for both of us? We have a book launch to attend, after all." you laughed and kissed him again.

*****

As your breath got heavier and your eyes started to burn up you unconsciously took your phone from the kitchen counter.

"a picnic would be perfect" you text your friend. The desire to get out of the prison your house has become, growing bigger by the second.

"Tell me if this isn't an appropriate question," you heard the man next to you say, derailing your train of thought as you directed your attention towards him. The weather is hot today, it really was a good call, suggesting a picnic. You haven't been on one in a long while and you missed feeling of how the calm of the nature overwhelmed most of your senses. Also, you couldn't handle a complicated social situation on this day. So it was perfect right now, laying on a blanket, stranded in a flower freckled field with none other than San. You turn your head towards him. " What made you want to go out today?" he completed, not looking at you. He was laying on his back, with one arm under his head and his eyes closed, as if he feared the reaction you were going to have to his words. You didn't blame him for asking. In a similar situation where the roles would be reversed, you knew for sure you would ask too. After all, you and San were made of many of the same things. " Don't get me wrong, I'm happy you agreed, but it didn't seem like you would." he adds.

"Some days my house feels like a torture chamber." you say turning on your side and facing him, supporting your head on your angled arm. He was so still, you could barely even notice the way he slowly breathed in and out. It was as if the sun was painting his portrait and he was afraid to move, to not mess it up. Every ray that was falling on his exposed skin seemed to caress him the way a lover does.

"And some days it does its job." you completed after returning on your position on your back, mimicking his. "Today just didn't felt like one of the days I'd like to be tortured." you finished and felt his gaze on you right before you closed your eyes. If you thought he seemed worried, you made sure not to address it.

"One time when I was little, I was playing with a friend of mine," you smiled, realizing this is just the beginning of one of his captivating stories. "I don't remember how we got to that point, but he left me in a room and said he was gonna lock me there, and so he got out and he did." a bit darker than what he usually tells you, but still intriguing.

"At first I thought it was fun, that we would take turns locking each other in the room but he wasn't coming back. The room had only one window but it was locked when I tried to open it and get out. So I just waited. I think hours passed, it was getting dark and I was getting worried and hungry, thought I'll be stuck there forever, until it crossed my mind. I never even tried to open the door. Turns out it didn't even have a keyhole."

"San, if you're trying to put me to sleep with this one, just know it doesn't really work." you say smirking, still holding your eyes closed as you let the sun bathe your face.

"I'm not, Y/N. I'm trying to tell you that most of the times, the doors aren't locked. We just think that they are." he responds and you open your eyes to look into his. His look is full of compassion, and a bit of sadness that you choose to overlook. You finally understand what he means to tell you and you realize he is right. But even if a door isn't locked, you shouldn't open it unless you're ready to do so. You gently touch the back of his hand, and he is quick to caress your fingers with his thumb, changing his focus to where your hands are joined.

"Thank you," your words came out more like a whisper than you would've liked. "I know I don't do much for you...but I'm hoping I'm not that much of a nuisance, like I feel I am." he turns his hand, joining his fingers with yours and making eye contact with you. The simple gesture of affection made your head dizzy in a way you haven't felt in a long time. Your heart creaks up a little.

"You couldn't be one even if you tried," he said, his gaze lazily tracing the outlines of your face. You were the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his life, even now. Even after all the hardships you've been through, and that you're still going through. The adoration his heart held for you never stopped burning, no matter how much he wished for it to do so. For San, loving you was as easy as it sounded and as hard as it could get. Setting his eyes on the bags under your eyes he recalled a memory that stood like a scar on his brain. Your eyes were so dark that day, your eye bags a shade of purple he hadn't seen on any painting quite yet. Your lips were pale and chapped and your skin looked like it lost all its pigment.

Black didn't suit you so well, he thought. Not when it was worn the way you were wearing it then.

But the worst came when it was time to say goodbye. He still remembered your cries and wails and it made the skin on his spine tremble in its place. Could he ever forget how, on that day, you looked like the angel of death?

Now you looked better...like life was coming, little by little, back into your body, and the pure sunlight was definitely helping it. He should let the sun see you more often, he thought.

You pulled your hand from his when you felt like his eyes were analyzing your features for a bit too long. Rising in a standing position, you started examine the insides of the basket he prepared.

"Oh my God! You brought me watermelon!" you shouted loudly as you took the container holding the red pieces of fruit in it. The only thing San could do at your reaction was laugh, throwing his head back to look at the puffed up white clouds.

Four days since you brushed your teeth, three since you showered, two since you changed your clothes, one since you ate, and one year, eleven months and fourteen days since you've last held the love of your life in your arms. But, hey, who's keeping count anyways?

Time loses all its meaning when you confine yourself like you are some dangerous animal meant to be locked up in a cage. Between the moments you try to stay awake and the ones you try to sleep, you have little to remember. The only thing that gives a little light to the fog in your brain is San. His stories in the middle of the night, conversations you happen to have during the day and occasional meetings that you're always the one to initiate. He always makes you feel good, always picks the right words to say and you don't know how he has the patience for such things. You love and hate him for it. You love him for being such a considerate and kind person, and you hate him for making you forget. It's strange when you get home and reality dumps on you at the front door. The reality you actually live in and not one you indulged yourself to have with San for a few hours. It's just...with him everything is colorful and melodic but when you get home the only thing you hear are your sighs echoing off the walls back into your ears. You wished you could be stuck in the feeling you have around him forever, but at the same time, every time you have that feeling you feel guilty for it. Like it's impossible to allow yourself any sort of break.

The last days have been impossible to get through. All you did was look around at the mess that was around you. A mountain of clothes, waiting to be washed for weeks now, a sink full of dishes and mugs, lots of crumpled sheets on the ground ( proof of all your tries to put something together). Everything was a disaster, inside and out. You had no willpower to do anything about it but you knew that the more you would stay in a shitty space, the more you would feel like shit. So for the first time in months, you opened the window.

*****

He placed the two mugs on the windowsill as he opened the window, allowing the cold breeze of the morning to brush over the exposed skin. He watched you closely as you made sure to turn off the stove and place the coffee pot in the sink. Your eyes met his as you felt the cold air run down your back, giving you shivers. He smiled contentedly at the sight of your body slowly shuddering. The "window" habit was a thing Hongjoong let into the relationship since the beginning of it. It was crazy for you how sometimes you caught him doing it first thing after waking up. You loved to watch him open the window and inhale the morning air with his elbows pressed against the wooden frame. Those moments wouldn't last long, but you treasured them more than he maybe thought about it. There was a thing about this domestic life, and seeing him do his own rituals that had you turn into quite the observer.

"You love to make me cold, don't you?" you smile brightly getting closer and closer, until you reach the space right in front of him.

"Angel, you're so hot in the morning that I'm afraid you might overheat. I need to cool you down a little, don't I?" he says on his usual cheeky tone, the one you grew to love in such little time. As he places his hand on your hip, you take a sip of your coffee. Like your actions served as a reminder of the hot liquid resting in his mug, he does the same.

"I can think of some other ways you could cool me down..." you say as you hook your finger on the front waistband of his pajama pants, sliding it from left to right. He chuckles in his mug and pulls you closer. Your chests rise in unison as you look each other in the eye, you don't say anything but this moment feels like a promise neither of you wants to break.

He looks to his left, at the city and at the people. Taking advantage of the opportunity, you place a few slow kisses on his jaw.

"I want us to find a new place," he says scooping you up as you squeal in surprise. You hook your legs behind his waist instantly while he walks towards the bedroom. "I want a balcony." He completes before kissing you and you laugh into the kiss, thinking of the many ways you two could make use of said balcony. He sure was thinking the same thing you did, giving how he started laughing as well.

His laugh was the only thing you ever wanted to hear again.

*****

You look down at the windowsill and see the brown marks in the body of two circles imprinted on the wooden surface. You always told him to use the damn coasters. Now the wood was stained. Permanently stained. Permanently ruined. Just like you were.

As you get on with cleaning you try to keep your brain busy with thoughts like what you should do after you finish a task, and what you should do after that one is finished as well. You thank yourself for choosing to clean, as you get out of the shower and throw yourself into the bed. Not only does it now smell like flowers, but you're also tired enough for sleep to steal you the minute you close your eyes.

"Ha! Check mate!" San exclaimed from the other side of the table you both were sat at. This was an odd activity that you had never done before. Playing chess, in a park, fully exposed to the summer sun. And you weren't even middle aged. Crazy to see how far the desperation to get out of the house will make someone go. But if it was with San, you were sure that there weren't many place where you wouldn't go.

"Your mind seems to be elsewhere," he said, angling his head innocently like the little puppies do when you tell them not to lick the outlet. His black hair was swooped out of his face, making his cheekbones pop out in a way you didn't think it was more humanly possible.

"Oh, you know damn well I suck at chess, San." you said kicking his queen with your finger. It became clear to him that you were an unfit partner for this game after like, the half of the first match. As the piece made contact with the chessboard, San tittered, making his eyes turn into crescents and his dimples scar his cheeks again.

"You just don't want to learn," he said as he started picking the pawns. You gave him a hand, collecting all the pieces on your side.

"You play the pawns when you still have the queen..." he offered a dramatic sigh as he clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. True, it was more comfortable to lose with the pawns than with the queen.

"How's the book going?" placing the game of chess in his backpack, he made eye contact with you as he pressed his elbows against the surface in between. You sigh.

"It's not," you admit thinking about all the documents you've erased the last month or every manuscript you tossed in the trash. Nothing was coming together and you hated every word after writing it. Not only was this process driving you mad but it also made you doubt all your abilities as a writer. People would expect more from someone who had a bestseller out there, you thought. But it wasn't your job to rise to anyone's expectation.

"Maybe I was just a one hit wonder." you say smiling sadly. It really did pain you to think that you weren't able to do the sole thing you ever thought yourself good at. But maybe, after you lived in a thousand realities in the past two years (as of today, maybe the reason why you wanted to get out of your home so bad), this was your new one. A reality in which you weren't able to write anymore. Fear was not even close to describe how you felt about the future.

"Don't kid yourself, I know you'll make it eventually." San offers, grabbing your hand in his. "You know, you should be the last person who is hard on yourself." he rubs your hand with his thumb. You wish you could pull away from his touch, or to at least want to pull away. But you don't. His touch is comforting and not a lot of things in your life are that way right now. As you look at him there is a sudden desire to punch yourself in the face, for the only thing that comes through your mind is to thank him again. As you did countless of times before. He did say he grew tired of it.

"You know what I'm in the mood for?" you avoid the subject successfully as he rises his eyebrows, showering you in all his undivided attention. "Drinking my sorrows at a shitty bar." you finish off, painting a big smile on your face. He mirrors it as he sighs through his teeth, letting go of your hand. He notices your intention to avoid talking about anything serious. Anything that might actually help you. You always do it, that is exactly why you talk to him only about nonsense and why, when you call him in the middle of the night (and when he always, always answers) you make him tell you a story. Leaving him to be the only one to talk as you doze off. Never leaving room for him to ask you what is wrong or what you dreamed of. Is how you got on until then, and maybe that is why it went so slowly, the whole "moving on" thing everyone was telling you about. But it was the thing that worked best for you, you figured. Not talking about the elephant in the room got you this far, you can go a little more like that.

"Well, I happen to know the perfect place for that," rising from his seat, he extends his hand towards you. "Shall we?"

You didn't know if it was the alcohol or the bar lights or simply just him. Honestly, you couldn't tell the difference between many things anymore, but as you looked at San talking, you felt more attracted to him than ever. The mole near his eyelid seemed more prominent now, and so did his muscular arms under the fitted shirt he wore, and oh, the freckles painting constellations on his neck. His eyes were sparkling brightly and his teeth were showing from time to time. You looked closely as he licked his lips after taking a sip of his beer. The way he was doing it seemed almost erotic. That one part of your brain that would feel bad for having these thoughts has died when you drank your fourth shot, but you were glad it did. You felt more comfortable now, and with San here, there was not a lot more that you would wish for. Not realistic wishes anyway.

"I need to know which side you stand on," he says angling his body towards yours. "Socks on or off during sleep?" San asks with a serious face, as if he asked if you enjoyed kicking puppies in the face or eating toddlers for dinner. You burst out laughing at the mix of the question and his expression.

"Off, I'm not a psychopath." you answer through your stilled laugh. He frowns.

"Oh no, you're definitely a psycho. Do your feet not get cold?" a bit of frustration could be heard in his voice.

"How would I know? I'm asleep the whole time." you sip from your drink. "Don't tell me you like pineapple on pizza as well..." you plead looking at him.

"And what if I do? It's a good combination! It's like mint chocolate, de-li-cious." San smiles proudly at his outrageous statements. Maybe he is not the person you thought he was. God, he told you so much and yet you still knew so little. That was one of the most intriguing things about him. That you felt like a lifetime wouldn't ever be enough for you to get to know him completely. Like everyday he would pick another thing to like, or something utterly new to do so he doesn't get bored. He always told you how he gets bored of things and people so fast. And yet there he was, still by your side. Maybe you were the mystery he didn't get to solve yet.

"Dude, not toothpaste too.." you cry out as you push his arm, but instead of pushing him, you push yourself. You almost lose your balance off the bar stool, but San's quick reflexes kick in and grab you by the arm, pulling you back in sitting position. He cackles as you try to maintain your balance.

"Maybe we should get you home." he says laying some bills on the bar. You hum in approval and get to your feet as you follow him out of the bar, which was indeed shitty. San is a man of his word.

The walk home was short and calm as you focused more on seeming sober than to what was happening around you. It already got dark as you two strolled past the abandoned streets laughing about things you unwillingly forgot as soon as you finished laughing. This moment, you thought to yourself, is the one that you would remember when a certain song plays. One that will give you the same sensations you feel in this moment. And far away from right now, when you know you will be better, when you listen to that certain song, you'll think wow, so much has changed. That moment could happen 10 days from now, or ten years. You don't know yet. But something about this uncertainty makes you relax somehow, knowing that you still have hope. And most of it is thanks to San. He may not be aware of all the things that he is helping you with, but you are. It's like a mental list that you never stop writing on. Could you ever repay him for any of it?

"Here we are," he says as he places his hand on your shoulder and you take a hold of his arm as he rattles on about not drinking anymore and going to sleep and whatever else he decided to nag you about. Your focus is only on his lips, and then his eyes, and his lips again, and his hand on your arm, and then feeling his arm flexing underneath your touch, and the feeling of being taken care of by someone. You realize you don't want this night to end quite yet.

"Do you wanna come in?" you interrupt, and observe his quick reaction of rapidly shutting his mouth and widening his eyes.

"I could use a live storytelling session right now." you add.

What where you asking for exactly? As you looked at him hesitate for a bit, you weren't sure that you knew either. But after a few seconds of looking around, he hums in approval as he nods and follows you inside your home. It's not as clean as you would wish but not as messy as to apologize for anything. You both take off your shoes and walk into the open space living room. Feeling San's presence close behind you, you turn and signal for him to sit down on the couch as you go to a little counter.

"I have vodka, whiskey and some cherry liquor," you turn your head back towards him. He was sitting on your couch now. But not how someone who entered their friend's apartment for the first time would be expected to sit, no. Because he didn't have that posture of "oh, I don't want to make myself comfortable because my presence here is out of place". No. He looked like he fucking owned the place. Like he payed the bills. Like he chose every single piece of decoration there was inside your home. And you weren't mad about it, if you were being honest. The everlasting confidence that was emanating out his every pore always looked good on him. His legs were spread apart, and you didn't forbid yourself to spend more than a few seconds scanning his thighs, thinking of numerous ways you could make use of them. Prominent Adam's apple marked his throat as his head was thrown back over the backrest. It seemed that he moved in slow motion, lazily pulling his head up and in your direction.

"Glass of whiskey would be nice." he answered through a half pout as his hands splayed even more on the higher edge of the couch. Obeying his orders, you unconsciously let his choice be the one you make as well, so you pour the liquid in two glasses. The strong scent hits you immediately, and you know you won't be able to drink it, the alcohol in your system will reject this on the spot if you dared adventure too far. But you decided back when you invited your friend into your house, tonight was the night you were going to test your limits.

You sit yourself on the couch, next to the man you hide your desire for not so well, closer than you usually would. And he seems to observe regarding the fact that he appears to be leaning a bit into you. Maybe it's in your head. He sips from the glass you hand him, licking his lips again, the gesture he did at the bar seems to be hitting you in a certain, already wet, spot in between your legs as it did a little time ago. He hums right after swallowing the drink, you follow with interest the way his Adam's apple moves up and down. Why is he being so unworldly attractive tonight? Is it really the alcohol or has the sexual tension finally built up enough for you to not be able to take it anymore. You feel an unexpected, but not unwelcomed, ache in your heart and stomach and definitely in your pussy. He places the glass down, with careful fingers, on the table before you and resumes his previous stance, except now one of his hands chooses to rest on the thigh closer to you. You admire it from respectable distance, one which you weren't sure you'd be able to maintain for too long. His hands were clean, nails kept short on his slender long fingers, and the rings adorning them only completed the way his veins were traveling down the back of his palm. Will there ever be a time where you could look at Choi San and not like what you see? Highly doubtful.

"That's some good shit," finally his face catches your attention, and happily so. He looks at you through his lashes, smirking with one corner of his beautiful mouth. You wondered how his lips might feel. On yours, on your neck, your chest, everywhere. "never took you for a whiskey person."

"I'm not," you say through a bittersweet smile and you realize that maybe you really, desperately need the alcohol right now, so you chug some of it down. "it's been laying around." you finish the sentence and then the glass of whiskey and you place it down the table, next to his. The contrast of the glasses, one empty and one half full, makes you amused in some kind of way. It let's you reminiscence of the many times that you heard from a certain someone, how you were always rushed in the most unfit situations. It was true.

As you look back to San, you feel like you are left with no choice than laying on your back and placing your head on his lap. So you do, maybe slower than you feel you move in your drunk-dazed mind. As you nuzzle the back of your head into his thighs, you close your eyes, for your vision was getting blurry and the room slowly spun around.

"You can begin anytime." you sigh out and feel him shifting a bit underneath you. He chuckles lowly and it takes him a few moments to adjust to the situation presented before him, it would be strange to you too. These were exactly the kind of things that you hesitated to do with San, because you partly knew his feelings for you, so you didn't want to give too much water to the well. Exactly the kind of intimacy that would leave room to hope for more, want more.

And not only from his side.

"I met this girl a while ago," he starts and softly places his hand on top of your head, massaging your scalp and slowly pulling at strands of your hair. "she's the whole package. Smart, funny, kind and so fucking hot." , safe to say you don't expect his last words to hit you like they do. A tad bit of jealousy makes its presence felt in the bottom of your heart, thinking that there might be a possibility that he doesn't refer to you. But the slow strokes his fingers offer your head make you feel too good to give it any importance.

"She's got this thing about her, I don't know how to even say it. It's like every time we talk, we knew each other since birth and like the first time we ever met, all at once. It's incredible, really." the way he talked was how you only heard people talk in movies. Hopeless romantic to the very end.

"Sounds like she's got you head over heels." you huff out slightly annoyed.

"Yeah, you'd be shocked," silence following his words, words that had a heartbroken nuance to them. He continues to massage your head and his touch feels so good, so comforting, so familiar. Like he did it every time he saw you, like he at least imagined doing it every time. "she really loves my stories." he adds after what seems to be like forever, and his hand stops, pulling itself out of your proximity. Your eyes shoot open and you find his gaze upon you. At the same time he looks sad, his eyes are also filled with anticipation, of what is to come, of how you would react to the fact that he just confirmed it was you he talked about. You sit up, trying not to let the slight dizziness in your head get the best of you and turn to him. Faces close to each other, studying him one last time before things change between you two. He wants it. And you clearly want it. Both of you so bad that it's not even a surprise how you meet halfway into a kiss. You thank the universe in your head, for it being this way. For you to not beat yourself up too much later that you initiated anything. So you let yourself sink into the feeling of him, his smell intoxicating. You know that it will be hard to not feel it in your lungs for a long time after this, and you were happy for it to be that way. Your lips are shy at first, not used to kissing anymore, not used to someone who hasn't kissed you before. But the feeling is more than pleasant. He takes his time, slowly nipping away at your bottom lip, swiftly pushing his tongue into your mouth. Your teeth clash and you both smile, licking into each other's mouths a bit more. His lips are soft and so warm, this feeling has long been forgotten by your mind. He pulls away and you gasp for air, he reaches to brush the hair out of your face and cups your face gently, looking into your eyes with a glimmer you were sure you haven't seen on him before. But you knew exactly what it meant.

"I don't want it if you don't." he says, assuring you once again that his actions will only be made for your comfort.

"I can't even tell you how bad I want it." your voice soft as it answers, and after receiving your words with wonder on his face, San downs the whiskey left in his glass, only to rush kissing you right after he gulps it down. If the first kiss was both of you navigating uncharted waters, now you were both desiring more. Hungrily devouring each other, whiskey tasted so much better on his tongue. You climbed into his lap as he pulled you closer to his chest. Serving as a reminder, you needed to get that shirt off of him. And as you helped him get rid of it, you weren't even surprised of how he looked even better than what you kept picturing all night. He returned the favor of undressing you of your shirt, and briefly cupped your breasts through your bra as he pulled you into another kiss. His hands quickly running to your waist, pulling you deeper into his lap, feeling him get hard underneath you, moment by moment. One of his palms traveled down to massage your butt cheek through your jeans, and the other quickly moved up to unhook your bra deftly with steady fingers.

"You must be popular with the ladies." you whisper close to his mouth and he chuckles.

"Not with the ones I want." he replies and you jokingly slap his bicep in response. He pulls the bra off throwing it somewhere nearby and admires your chest for a second too long before taking one of your nipples in his mouth. You throw your head back and whimper at the feeling of his tongue swirling around the sensitive part of your breasts. You tangle your fingers in his hair as you try to slowly ride his thigh, feeling the need to get rid of the tension in some kind of way. He let's your nipple out of his mouth with a lewd pop and laughs as he glues his hand to the back of your head, forcing you to look into his eyes.

"Darling if you want something you just need to ask," he brings his mouth over to your chest, planting sprinkled kisses along your collarbones. "my thigh? my fingers? my cock?" he asks in between suctions on the soft, sensitive skin of your neck. You were so sexually frustrated that you thought you were going to cry, and his words definitely didn't help. If something, they only made the tightness in your belly feel even tighter. "Which one will it be?" he asks finally as his eyes find yours again. You barely manage a pathetic whimper as he let's go of your head to unbutton your jeans. His hand slides slowly until it meets the band of your panties, but it doesn't go further, his eyes stopping on your face.

"Fuck, San, I want everything." you finally verbalize for him, your words laced with desperation for him to take things further. He closes his eyes and smiles in satisfaction when hearing your words, resuming the attack on your neck, biting down some marks here and there. His fingers finally get a hold of your clit and you shudder at the sensation. The circular motions he starts only make you moan his name quietly, through whimpers. It's been so long since you touched yourself like that, let alone somebody else. Masturbation was a thing you couldn't get back into since everything happened. Every time you tried, your mind only pictured Hongjoong, and it always ended with you crying without releasing in any kind of way. That was how you spent the last two years of your life, no wonder you were sexually frustrated. But now, the only thing on your mind was San, and how you could get him to make you cum faster. The position wasn't really a favorable one, he didn't have much access and so, his movements were limited and slow. San sinks his hand further down, teasing your hole with his middle finger, coating it in your arousal.

"You're so wet baby," he slowly pushes his finger into you, wandering into your inside, and your tightness. It did definitely feel like rain after a long drought. He pumped his finger inside you a few times, adding an extra one after a few seconds, stretching you in a way that has become unfamiliar but satisfying all the same. He fastened his pace and you unconsciously started to ride his fingers, chasing after your long awaited release. It wouldn't last too much, taking in consideration that you haven't orgasmed in so long. Your left hand was on San's nape, anchoring you to some sort of reality that he was indeed there, and the other one was on his chest. It wasn't much longer until your body conjured the estranged feeling in your tummy, you were close. San seemed to read your thoughts once again as his movements came to a halt, you offered a frustrated whimper in return. He lifted you up of his lap and placed you on your back next to him. He helped you get rid of your jeans and then your panties.

"I know you want to cum, but I want you to do it in my mouth." his face in between your thighs, breath fanning over your aching core. This time he didn't wait for a verbal response anymore, and you were glad he didn't. His warm tongue licked a long swipe starting from your hole to your clit, his mouth latched to it with sensual movements, sucking and licking at it, taking all the time in the world.

"Ho...ly fu-fuck," you gasped as you threw your head back into the cushion of the couch, arching your back under his ministrations.

His tongue was skilled, and so were his fingers when they slid inside you for the second time tonight. He curled them up, hitting your g-spot every time he pumped them in. Your body shuddered hardly at the sensation.

"Feel good?" he asked looking up at you, for the first time since he positioned you like this, you looked down at him. And what a sight for sore eyes, so lewd that if you looked at it for long enough you would cum without him needing to do anything to you anymore.

"So good," you reply and place one of your hands into his raven hair when he continues abusing your sensitive bud in the best way you could think of, he continues his movements with his tongue and his fingers, and it's only a matter of seconds until it builds up. You pull at his hair as he deepens his head in between the thighs that are now clenched around his head and it finally all becomes too much for you.

"Fuck....San....ahh," you cry out whilst shutting your eyes tightly, thing that makes you see stars in the back of your head.

You feel proud for satisfying his wish. San seems too feel so as well. You come undone on his fingers, and he pulls them out quickly to attend your releasing wetness with his inpatient tongue, you feel as if you could pass out from the soft stimulation. Such a long time since you've had an orgasm and this might have been the best way to have one.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he says as he slowly rises and takes his place above you, letting you have a taste yourself as he kisses you, swirling his wet muscle in every corner of your mouth, making sure none of it is getting left untouched by him. You sure do taste better on his tongue. Feeling his hard dick press on the inside of your thigh, in all its dizziness, your brain only wants more.

"Can we go to the bedroom?" you ask nicely, only to be met once more with San's surprised face. Like the thought that you still might want more never crossed his mind. He helps you up by the waist and lets you guide the way to the room. As you enter the it you quickly run to the bed, throwing yourself on it as you giggle like you're high, and you might as well be. High hormones had the same effect as weed for you. San only shakes his head with a smile on his face, while looking down and getting his belt off. Shit, this is really happening. Really finally happening. He slowly approaches the bed, ridding himself of his pants as he reaches the edge of it. Your friend pulls down his boxers as well, and you watch closely as his erect member is finally out of its entrapment, it springs up vividly, slapping against his torso. You're left in surprise at the sight of his girthy, definitely above average long, cock. You bite your lip involuntarily and he laughs to your reaction.

"You don't need to," you quickly blurt out as soon as you see him pulling a condom from his wallet. "I mean...I'm clean, if so are you then..." well it's safe to say you've became quite a desperate little thing during your two, deprived of sex, years. "then, we don't need to worry." you finish your sentence.

"You sure?" he asks for confirmation once again.

"Yeah, 'm sure." you respond and beckon him with your index finger. He muffles out a swear word you don't quite register as he drops the condom from his hold, quickly climbing on the bed. He crafts a better position above you, kissing you gently as he lines up his tip with your entrance. You whine in anticipation, lips still attached to his own, softer ones. He slowly pushes himself inside, taking lots of time to make sure your tightness grows comfortable around him. It hurts. Not only it is the first time with San, it felt like the first time altogether. At first, it seemed like your damn hymen grew back. Ironic, considering the amount of sex you used to have. You frowned as you whimpered softly into his mouth. He quickly broke the kiss, watching you with a slightly panicked look on his face.

"Hey, you all right?" he brushed the hair out of your face with his right hand, holding his weight on his left arm. You slowly started to get used to him, your whole body relaxing noticeably when seeing his face.

"Yeah, you can move." you stated with a voice glazed with desire. He did as asked, moving his hips in slow strokes, every time trying to deepen himself more inside you. He groaned each time his dick reached a new part of you.

"Fucking hell, how are you so fucking tight?" he lets out in a tone that almost seems annoyed with the state of your pussy.

"You...are the first...since then." you speak in between craving moans. He shudders at your words, stopping for a second, as he buries his forehead in the crook of your neck.

"Well, damn, princess. Should've let me stretch you out sooner." he whispers into your ear. And that is by far the most obscene thing that has left his lips tonight. He started moving again, this time picking a pace that had you crying out for his name. You couldn't think of much else when San was fucking you, his cock kindly brushing over a certain sweet spot every time it reached its depth. His dick and your pleasure occupied most of the place inside you and your mind, respectively. But at one point, you did try to recall how exactly you ended up right there. Somewhere along the way of finding the answer, you realized it didn't matter how, it mattered that it did. And the strokes that San was driving into you only made you thank the universe that it happened. Following after his release, he increased his speed. His voice was starting to get raspy after groaning and moaning, as did yours, both of your throats dry now.

"I...I think I'm gonna cum..." he whispered in your ear, and you immediately understood the question hiding behind his words. Your mind was in a state of debate for a few too many seconds. In or out? The only person that ever came in was him. In or out? But you wanted San to cum inside you so badly. In or out? That wouldn't be fair. In or out? But why wouldn't it be?

"Inside." you determinately say. His movements begin to grow messy, losing rhythm. He immerses into you deep, almost knocking you out with the way his cock is so richly stuffed inside you, and he let's out an angelic cry as he fills you up with white ropes of his hot seed. With his forehead glued to your shoulder, San pauses to catch his breath for a few seconds, before pulling his body up to get better vision of you. He cups your cheek and kisses you softly once again, pulling himself apart from you quicker than expected.

"You're so beautiful," he brushes his thumb over your lips. "I could look at you for all eternity." your heart thumps heavily when hearing his words. It made no sense for you how someone who looked like him, could tell you that you're beautiful. It seemed so far away from your reality, but still, you were thankful. At a loss for words, and only giving a shy smile in return, San mirrors it as he ascends and then throws himself in the empty space next to you. The only thing that is heard the next few minutes is both of your breaths as your chests heave. You nuzzle up into San's side, he embraces you with his arm as you grab him by the waist, laying your head on his chest. He kisses you on the crown of your head as he starts humming a melody that you don't think you've heard yet. Nonetheless, sleep gets a hold of your tired body and mind quickly, and you don't know if it's the alcohol that creates an illusion, or if it's just San's presence, but throughout your dreams you feel as if you are guarded by an angel.

Easily the best sleep you've had in a while. You are reminded of how easy it is to fall asleep on someone else's shoulder, just as you wake up.

*****

Before you met him you always thought you were better at spending time alone than you were at spending time with others. Now your thoughts had changed about the matter. It was like you were made only for being in Hongjoong's company, and when you were, you felt at peace. Like nothing could affect you ever again. The moments after sex were the ones you loved most, it almost felt like after your bodies were joint, your souls were getting combined as well, while laying on one another. He had his warm hand draped against your waist, playfully tracing circles on your soft skin, humming whatever song came to his mind. Your hand was on his bare chest and your head in the crook of his armpit. If you would be stuck in a time loop made only of this moment, you would never get sick of it.

The heat his body was emanating seemed to strangely warm you up from inside out, and the smell that was around the two of you was making your mind dizzy and your lungs crave for more. Feeling his chest rise as he inhaled and exhaled made you realize that your breaths were in sync, and hearing his heartbeat, you were sure they were too, in sync with yours. For you, loving Hongjoong was such a natural thing to do, like you two were extensions of each other and worked at full capacity only when together. His fingers slowly took a hold of your hand which he brought to his lips, he kissed it and then squeezed it tightly. You looked up into his eyes. His beautiful eyes sprinkled with love and adoration as he watched you.

"I think that every day I spend with you, I find a new meaning to love." he brushes your cheek gently and you stay silent, your mind in a stage of awe at how greatly he sums up the things you feel, without even talking to each other. You smile as you kiss him again and again and again.

"Then let's find a new meaning to love together for the rest of our lives," still standing close to his face, you see him smile and you do as well. You knew that even in the darkest of days, his smile would always lighten up your whole world. He pecks your lips again and suddenly tries to get up from the bed, the coldness you feel not only in your body, but your heart as well, wraps around your mind and you quickly grab his hand. He stops and kneels on the bed, looking at your uncovered body still on display for the flame that takes ahold in his enchanting eyes.

"We'll be late..." he says as he gets closer to you. That wouldn't be a problem, you think. The author should be allowed to be late to their own book release, right?

"Ten more minutes," you plead as you pull him towards you. He smirks and let's you take control of both his mind and body, as he lays on top of you, filling you up with the heat emanating from his body once again. After all, ten minutes wasn't that much, right?

*****

There it was. The selfishness that has made you lose him. The selfishness that brought you here with San. Everything was your fault. You lost so much of yourself the day you lost Hongjoong, but you were sure your last bit of humanity was completely lost the day you let Choi San believe that you could love him the same way he did. How could you be so reckless? You couldn't even blame the alcohol anymore, only your fucking stupidity. You used the only friend left that you cared about, as a rebound. And he doesn't even know. You looked up at the man who was holding you tight against his chest, as if not to lose you. He was still asleep. His natural unflawed beauty made your heart exclaim in agony as you traced his features with your gaze. As thoughts were overwhelming your mind, you placed your head in its initial position. Your eyes were starting to sting when tears started to form up.

You were the worst there was, weren't you? You killed your boyfriend and you deceived your friend into being your distraction, from all the pain and guilt, in more than one way. You didn't recognize yourself anymore, not after so much time of ignoring all your thoughts and suppressing all your feelings thinking it would get better. It didn't get better, the opposite actually, seeing where you stand right now. It was all because of you, and your selfishness, and it could've all be avoided if you didn't wish for fucking ten more minutes.

You started quivering and sobbing.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" San confusedly asks. This should be a sight to see as soon as you open your eyes. The girl you were balls deep in the night before, crying in front of you the morning after. Comforting you came natural to him, like he has been doing it for all his life. And you realized he did do it, not for all his life, sure, but since it happened. He has done his best to comfort you in every way he could. And he always succeeded. And this is how you repaid him. How could you be such a fucking asshole?

"San you need to...you have to leave...I'm sorry." you say through sniffles as it gets harder and harder for you to control the tears pouring down your face. You cannot look him in the eyes but you do get a peek at his grave look, how he looks down, unsure of what to do.

"Did I do something?" he quietly asks with a certain thread of fear in his voice, as if he was terrified of what his question might cause. You wish you could tell him that at the same time he didn't do anything, he also did too much. His kindness and love were too overwhelming for you in the state you were in.t. No matter how much he tried, his love couldn't repair you. You were the only one who could do that, but for what felt like the longest time, you didn't want to do it. Maybe it was time to try now.

"God, no..." you barely manage to blurt out. Speaking seems like the most tiring thing to do right now. "I just have to be alone right now." trying to stop your tears briefly, you look him in the eyes as he retracts his hands off of you. And you can't help but feeling it again, even if you know that it's not the case. Abandoned. Once again, and like the first time, it was all because of you. He got up from the bed, quickly dressing himself in the heavy silence that was surrounding both of you. You slowly hugged your knees to your chest, slightly burying your head in the space that you created. Maybe it wasn't for the best to be left alone but you were afraid of what might happen if you weren't. You saw San walk to your front door, put on his shoes and look at you for a last time. You looked up at him with teary eyes.

"Y/N, I..." love you. He didn't need to enunciate it, you could already see it on his face, how much it hurt him to leave you in this mess, all alone. Whatever you felt for him was so hard to decipher in the amalgam of things that were dwelling inside of you. And it was even harder to accept that you did have certain feelings for him, stronger that you would've liked. He sighed and slowly shook his head, looking down. You saw him leave and then you didn't see much anymore. As bitter tears that flooded your eyes slowly slid into your mouth. Painful screams were tumbling out of your chest giving you no chance to control them. As you get up off the bed you start grabbing whatever comes first and throwing it around. Cradled papers, books off of shelves, tiny decorations on your desk. You reach a framed photo of you and Hongjoong and stop for a second to look at it. Back at the beginning of your relationship when you went to a museum. It started snowing so much that his black coat turned white. You still remembered the cold weather of that period but the warmth of his smile was burning still, even through the damn picture. A few of your tears stained the glass of the photo and after you whimpered in the discomfort you felt around your heart, like someone was squeezing it in their fist, you threw it on the wall across from you. Did you really have to destroy everything nice in your life? As soon as it shattered to pieces you rushed towards it, as if you were not expecting the completely obvious to happen.

"No, no, no..." you whisper to yourself in disbelief. You slowly pick the broken glass in your shaking hands as your crying only gets louder, rivers of tears flowing down your face when your eyes can't seem to look anywhere else but at the old photo.

"I miss you so fucking much..." you whimper in pain, like a dog being beaten.

It's pure torture, you realize, what you're doing to yourself. It takes a lot for your now bloody palms to make contact with your face and wipe your tears, only leaving more of a mess behind. The flesh, now torn from picking up the thin pieces of broken glass, stings when your salty tears slide over the bloody trails and as you rise up with wobbly legs to throw it in the trash, you find yourself looking out the same window you stood with your lover on his last day beside you. Your tears suddenly came to a halt as you looked at the city lights near and far away; your breathing steadied and you remembered.

I want a balcony.

How were you supposed to move on, when you haven't even moved out?

You never felt so nervous for anything in your life before. The microphone was waiting for you on the warmly illuminated stage. You took shy steps towards it as the people started to applaud loudly, you were sure you heard someone whistle from the crowd. As you got in front of the microphone stand you placed one hand on it, dragging it closer. You were not sure how to do this. It should've been your second time, but due to the incidents back then, it was the first time in your life you had to speak at your own book release. Or even attend it. You inhaled deeply and looked through the crowd once more. Your eyes met Seonghwa's as he slightly raised the glass of champagne towards you. The pity he laid upon you with the help of his gaze a while back had turned into pride. You couldn't help but remember the surprise on his face when you went not to his office, but his house, at two in the morning, when you finally finished writing.

You spent the night together, he began reading and you fell in and out of sleep on his couch. When you woke up, he made breakfast for you and he told you how great it was, with the little eternal side notes from his side. He was proud.

"I have no idea what I should say," you offer a strong beginning, everyone starting to chuckle at your awkward comment. "I've been through hell and back writing this book. Two years and a half ago I lost the love of my life in a car accident, and for a long time I thought I lost everything." the room became suddenly tense as you spoke the words.

"But this should be a reminder that some doors aren't closed. We just think that they are." you finish off raising your glass and looking at a familiar pair of eyes. Everyone cheers as you get off the stage, and after receiving compliments from your boss, your team and other people as well, you follow the suited silhouette that you've been secretly chasing with your stare all night, outside.

"Hey," you greet as you find San on a bench right next to the venue. His eyes meet yours and for a brief second it's like all the nerves you had on stage came back, but they were doubled this time. It was hard going through everything without San. He tried to contact you, of course, but you weren't giving him much and the only times you saw him were when you ran into each other at work. When you looked at yourself in the mirror you couldn't recognize yourself anymore, but he? He was just the same. Dressed for the occasion, his black hair swiped back neatly and his face...as gorgeous as ever, and the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

"Hey," he greets back as he drags his body on one side of the bench, signaling for you to join him. You sit beside him and look forward, feeling his eyes on your figure. "how have you been?" he asks, his voice glazed in worry. You made him suffer for the last time, you tell yourself. The whole ghosting thing and all the times you avoided him, those summed up the last time you were going to ever hurt him. For now you were working towards slowly healing the wound that has scarred you, which gave you more clarity about a lot of things.

"Better." you answer, looking in his direction. "I finally got it out!" you add smiling, a bittersweet smile that you held inside for a long time, it was for him only.

"I told you." San mimics your smile and looks into the distance.

"You did," moments of silence accompany as you think of the best way to embody your thoughts into words. "I never got to apologize." you start and his head shoots right at you. "I'm sorry. For using you to try and fuck my pain away." finally saying it aloud to him and getting it off your chest make your lungs finally not burn up when you try to inhale.

"I should apologize too," he begins and it's your turn to look at him with confusion.

"A part of me was aware that you were trying to do that and yet I wasn't able to stop myself." he adds. And it's like some part of you already knew, and already forgave him for it and that was because you knew you had way more blame than him, but you learned to come to terms with it, like you did with many things in your life. Learning to forgive yourself wasn't an easy process, but with the help of a good therapist, you slowly learned how to do it. You were at peace with a few of the things that kept you awake during the night. Slowly getting better.

"I'm sorry." he says and you're sure that more honest words had never left his mouth.

You take his hand into yours and place it on your lap. For the first time since you know him, his hands are cold. You use your other palm as a blanket and cover his hand from the cold winter breeze outside. He nurtured for you enough, it was finally time that you were ready to return the favor.

"I read the book," he says, looking at your hands holding each other.

"Lots of them are inspired from your stories," you refer to the poems, thinking of how many more were written with your mind only thinking about him that didn't even make the cut into the book. "and lots of them are inspired from you." You look into his eyes as he squeezes your hand gently. Maybe you didn't yet know what you wanted. But you knew what you didn't want. And you didn't want to lose San. Not again. Not ever.

"Can I take you out on Thursday?" he asks as his gaze stills down on your warm face. If he asked you this on a bad day, you still weren't sure what your answer would be, but today was a good day. You never got to say goodbye to Hongjoong, but that didn't mean you couldn't say hello to anyone ever again. "You know, in case you need more inspiration for your next masterpiece." he adds and you laugh shortly while nodding quickly. You spend a few more minutes in silence, enduring the cold air, silently revealing to each other the most vulnerable parts of you. You look down at your joined hands and then into his eyes. You smile, partly because you do feel happy, and the rest because you know he'll do the same, and hell, you fucking missed that dimpled smile of his.

The man doesn't say anything when you lean your head on his shoulder, but you are almost sure you can hear his heart beating faster. "I missed you so much." you finally say, letting your feelings pour out in front of San for the first time, leaving you vulnerable in a way no one has seen you since then.

And for the first time, while looking at the bright clear sky above you, you think for yourself that...He would be so proud.

#ateez smut #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez san #choi san #san smut #choi san fanfic #choi san smut #hongjoong fanfic #kpopsmut #xenizaation

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starsshit · 2 months

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Nalu Writing Practice-Bets & Loops

I'm so out of practice with writing, please let me know what y'all think

Lucy rubbed at her temples, her eyes squeezing shut as if that could drown out the sound of arguing next to her. She just wanted to read her book and instead she had a front row seat to a soap opera.

"You let him call you Ever?” Bickslow’s incredulous voice demanded, ruining her fifth attempt to read the same line. “Honestly, just because the idea of romance is lost on you does no–” “I am very romantic–stop laughing, Fried–” “See, even Fried,--”

“I’d like to stay out of this,” The green haired mage piped up, wincing when both of his friends whirled towards him instead.

Lucy had changed her usual seat in hopes of a more peaceful spot to read, and usually, this area would’ve been fine. Of course, Evergreen had decided to tell Laxus that her date with Elfman had gone well, which led to Bickslow spitting his drink out and the following argument. “It’s not like I’m Natsu or some shit,” Bickslow argued and Lucy blinked, slowly tuning into their argument again. “Careful,” Laxus drawled, eyes flickering over to Lucy’s as he smirked. “Blondie’s right there,”

“What is that supposed to mean?” She demanded, sliding her bookmark into place before snapping the book shut. “Talking about Natsu’s romantic failures, white right in front of his biggest–only–failure, isn’t wise or kind,” Fried supplied in a tone that she supposed was meant to be helpful. She distantly heard the sound of chairs scooting over but was distracted by her own heartbeat in her ears and the warmth rising to her cheeks. “I–Natsu–me?” She spluttered, eyes widening to saucers. “See,” she overheard Bickslow grumble to Evergreen. “I’m not that–” “Hey!” “What he means,” Evergreen cut in, a smirk worming its way onto her face. “Natsu obviously is in love with you, everyone knows it, except you. And maybe him.” “We’re friends,” she answered with a roll of her eyes that was heavily counteracted with her deep blush. “He doesn’t feel that way about me and neither do–” Her weak rebuttal was canceled out by a loud whoop, followed by a crash and– “Gray did it!”

“Natsu did it!” Lucy groaned, sliding her book into her bag and accepting defeat as she stood up. “You know,” Evergreen began, something similar to mischief flickering in her eyes. “If you really don’t like him, why don’t you try dating around? I have some friends I could set you up with,” she offered, her tone far too sweet for her. “Just check with him first, make sure there’s no set jobs or anything.” Lucy narrowed her eyes, sensing a trap but unsure of where it was. She huffed, turning on her heel. “Fine,” she succeeded with a shake of her head. “Just so you all–” She gave a pointed look to the rest of her friends who were listening in, “Leave it alone.” She started to walk off towards Natsu and Gray, or rather, the tumbling mess of limbs that was Natsu and Gray when she was cut off by Levy.

“Are you actually going to tell him?” Her best friend asked, cocking her head. Lucy sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “I might as well,” she admitted, looking down at the bluenette. “It’ll get the guild off my back and stop giving me–” She cut herself off, checking to make sure nobody else heard her near admission. Luckily, only Levy smiled at her with a knowing, sad, look in her eyes. “I think you should just ask him,” she suggested with a bright smile. “He may surprise you and jealous dragons are never the best thing to deal with, trust–” “Levy, I love you and appreciate your help but it’s just–” She frowned, shaking her head. “We’re just friends and he hates change, I don’t want to ruin that.” She offered a weak grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes as she shrugged. “Don’t worry about the jealousy, Natsu doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body.” With that, she continued her trek over to Natsu and Gray, swallowing her unnecessary nerves. “Luce!” Natsu’s excited voice called otu to her over the noise, the pink hair boy bouncing up with a grin. “What are ya doing here? I thought you were finishing that dumb lovey-dovey book today?” Lucy frowned, crossing her arms. “It’s not dumb, it’s romantic,” she corrected with a sigh. “And I–” She cut herself off, grimacing at the memory. “Changed my mind,” she settled on with a shrug. He only grinned at her, glancing over to Gray with a laugh.

“Lucy goes on all these adventures with us in her real life then reads about make believe ones,” he shook his head, his mess of pnik spikes following the moment. “Your life is better than a book, Luce.” “Well,” Gray began, in a voice that usually was followed by Natsu’s fists, “Lucy’s books have charming princes and Lucy’s life has,” he glanced down at Natsu. “Temperamental dragons.” “My temperature is fine, ya lousy–” “Temperamental doesn’t mean your literal temperature, Natsu,” Lucy corrected him with a fond smile. “It means you’re–” She paused, deciding she didn’t want to be included in Erza’s wrath that day. “Nevermind.” “See,” He whirled over to Gray, a frown tugging on his lips once he realized the ice mage’s attention was elsewhere. “Why are you looking at Juvia like that? It’s weird.” Truly. Not a romantic bone to be found. “On the note of princes,” Lucy began, immediately regretting her decision when both of the men turned their gazes back onto her. Gray looked amused whilst Natsu just seemed an odd mix of confused and something else she couldn’t place. “Evergreen wants to set me up wirth one of her friends,” she started, eyes focusing on anywhere but them. “Do we have any set mission day—” “What?” Natsu demanded at the same time Gray burst into laughter. He was rewarded with a sharp elbow in the gut from the dragon slayer, but he only doubled over as he continued to laugh. “Shut up, Gray,” he hissed, turning back to Lucy. “You and Evergreen aren’t even friends,” He protested, eyes narrowing. “She doesn’t know the kind of guys you should be around.” Lucy bristled, her own temper rising to the surface. “Oh, and you do?” She demanded, crossing her arms. “Obviously,” he huffed out with a laugh.

A laugh.

She was going to kill him with his own scarf.

“I mean do you think any guy Evergreen picks for ya would know the books you read? Or how to make you hot cocoa, cause for some reason you want it just above lukewarm? Or the way ya wrinkle your nose when you lie, or–” For a moment, Lucy’s thought paused and even Gray stopped laughing as Natsu rambled on, seeming to get more frustrated with every passing second. “And–are you even listening to me, Lucy?” He demanded, hands on his hips in an oddly similar manner to her own usual annoyed posture. “I–” She paused, feeling a wave of courage surge up in her. “So if I shouldn’t go on a date with anyone, who should I be with then?” “Me,” Despite being the one who said it, Natsu looked as shocked as Lucy felt when the words fell from his lips. He recovered quickly, his trademark grin falling over his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Cause, yknow, we spend so much time together and I don’t want to deal with a new–” “Shut up,” Gray advised in a hiss, still seated next to them. “Do you–” Her eyes flicked down to Gray, narrowing slightly at the realization that he may know something she didn’t. She’d deal with that later. “Do you like me, Natsu?” Perhaps she should’ve waited for a moment when the entir guild hall wasn’t listening to them because his response would be held over her head for far longer than she ever needed. “Really, Luce?” He asked, an expression of bemusement on his features. “Gee, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one, ya weirdo.” She was going to punch him. Or kick him. At this point, he had earned a kick. “Like isn’t the right word, I think–” he paused, and she noticed Gray giving him an almost encouraging nod. “I think I love you?” His words trailed off at the end of the sentence, sounding unsure, nervous, and so un Natsu like that she completely reconsidered kicking him. The kick could wait, what she wanted to do in that moment couldn’t. Lucy walked closer to him, ignoring the way her hands trembled as she clutched his scarf, then promptly used it to pull him into a kiss. She ignored the way the guild hall erupted into cheers and complaints of loss bets, focusing on Natsu’s hands sliding over her waist, both of their lips forming smiles against the others, the way they fit so perfectly. “Okay, okay, enough with the PDA,” Gray groaned and Lucy yelped, breaking away from Natsu. Her cheeks flared, promptly becoming far too aware of the guild hall. “Says the stripper,” “Yeah yeah, go take that energy out on–” “Finish that sentence, I dare you,” Natsu’s hand had somehow grabbed Lucy’s during their argument, lacing their fingers together. He turned back to face her, the bright grin on his face mirroring her own.

By the time the happy couple had gone home, the hall was still awake with murmurs of what had occurred. “You so cheated, Ever,” Elfman groaned, dropping his head in his hands. His girlfriend snorted, but still ran her fingers through his hair fondly as she glanced over at the rest of the thunder legion, currently going through their winnings.

They had bet on not only the month but the location of when the two would confess. “There were no rules against offering one of them an out,” she said with a faux innocent smile. “Just interfering with their own relationship.”

“Loopholes,” Cana grumbled bitterly with a swig of her beer. Or vodka. Hopefully, just beer. "At least it finally fucking happened.”

#fairy tail #nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nalu fanfiction #i have no idea what i'm doing #i am trying so hard

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ravenelyx · 1 year

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I love you in every timeline - Chapter 1: My Love Is As a Fever, Longing Still

← Prologue

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader

Words: 14.9k

Chapter Warnings: angst, Harry Potter characters appearance, no name usage for reader (only a few blank spaces), use of 2nd person for the reader, Sebastian is confused and doesn't know how to handle his feelings, and he's also struggling with his personality, veeeeery slow burn

Summary: "He couldn't risk being emotionally stuck somewhere he didn't belong just because his heart was grieving and crying out for a memory of the girl it broke and pieced itself back together for. He couldn't do that to you. He couldn't do that to himself. He couldn't do that to her". In which Sebastian, in his search for a cure in the Dark Arts, finds himself 100 years into the future and meets his most trusted companion's descendant (who looks far too similar to the girl he was once secretly in love with).

A/N: this is long, and more is to come. It's gonna be a very slow burn apparently, but I hope you will like it. Finally Chapter 1 is here, it's been a while. Also, as much as I love fanon! Draco and Pansy, I decided to follow a more canonical approach here, sorry. Again, english is not myfirst language so I'm sorry if I made any mistakes. Never am I going to write about time travel again,my brain hurts.

I also made a playlist inspired by this because why not.

You can find the whole fanfiction here on ao3

"My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, Th’ uncertain sickly appetite to please." - William Shakespeare, Sonnet 147

You weren't her.

Then who the hell were you?

You briefly smiled at Sebastian and then turned back to the red-head, squinting. "Do you have the book or not?"

Ron gulped, avoiding your eyes. "It's probably in my dorm or something... I didn't have class, so I didn't take it with me."

"In your dorm, isn't that right?" Your eyes narrowed even more if that was even possible, and Sebastian was pretty sure you were about to hex him on the spot. Your leering didn't go unnoticed by either of the two Gryffindors and Hermione’s throat bobbed ever so slightly, eyes widening a little in alert.

"Well, as I said—"

"Here," interrupted Hermione suddenly, voice slightly squeaking. She looked into her bag and extracted her own copy of Winogrand's Wondrous Water Plants. "Use this in the meantime. I take notes on the book too, unlike Ronald here, so it should compensate."

You accepted the book, seemingly calming down a bit. “Thank you, Hermione,” you said, enunciating her name sarcastically as you shot the other boy a nasty look, and Sebastian couldn't help but feel a touch of schadenfreude as Ron hung his head low, cheeks as red as his hair.

“I said I'll give it back,” said Ron, scowling. “It’s not like you need it anyway. Sprout doesn’t even make us open books!”

You politely smiled at Hermione, your eye slightly twitching at his remark, before said smile turned into a sneer as you looked at Ron again. “Then what the hell is taking you so long?"

Hermione sighed softly, dejectedly, and Ron shrinked on himself, sending Sebastian an unconfident look. But that only seemed to propel you to continue.

"And most people do open books for Herbology, my dear Ron, but I don’t expect you to know that. You’re too busy trying to find ways to whine and beg others to help your lazy ass later when they have other, more important things to do.”

Sebastian saw it happen, in a gradual, torturous slowing of time. There was something about you, in the way your lip quirked up, in the way your brows furrowed, giving life to that crease. Something that you couldn't stop, washing over you like a tsunami, drowning any possible thought of rationality and empathy. Control, in that moment, was appearance and nothing more.

He felt, for a moment, afraid; chilling his veins until goosebumps raised on his skin: a thrill, as if she was there. As if he was watching her unleash that godly power in all her beauty.

You were still, hands clammy at your sides, as he could see you open and close them repeatedly, and you weren't gloating. It was different; like that thick, foggy feeling that floods your brain when your opponent misses a step whilst casting Protego, or opens their arm a bit too much, making it easy for a well-aimed Stunning Spell to pass through, and it makes your cheeks turn red and your chest flutter, and Sebastian saw that twinkle in your eyes as you ignored Hermione’s pleading look.

The same thrill that makes his heart tug when he inevitably, nimbly raises his wand back. When the spell goes right where he intended it to go, and the deaf sound of a wand hitting the floor fills his ears.

It was that innate human side that took pleasure in pain. That part that could turn from a lambent glow into a Fiendfyre if you're not careful. Or if you really put your mind to it.

But you weren't duelling.

Sebastian wasn’t sure what to make of the way with which you were slandering your — he supposed — friend. And in front of him, too. It made him slightly tremble, his lip slightly twitch. Part of him wondered if he was invisible, part of him felt a little too alert, part of him pitied the girl in front of him.

And while it seemed Ron and Hermione were just as shocked, they had a sort of weary gleam in their eyes. And any attempt at smoothing things over was futile. Hermione feebly tried to intervene. “Oh, we don’t need to go further—”

“You see Ronald, for a Prefect you should really put some thought into the impression you’re making on new students, not to mention the one you should give of our school—” you ignored her and sarcastically gestured towards Sebastian, who felt his breath hitch at the sudden spotlight put on him, “and yet, you’re always so comfortable acting like a dimwit . Pull yourself together and be responsible for once.”

Ron’s jaw fell open, completely at loss for words at your harsh words, and he shared a look with Hermione that Sebastian was able to understand completely.

What the hell just happened?

He couldn't agree more.

“I think you’re overreacting,” said Ron sternly.

“I think you’re disrespectful,” you replied just as eagerly.

“Alright, that’s enough!” said Hermione, putting herself between the two Gryffindors. “It so happens we have a guest here!”

Sebastian felt his heartbeat quicken ever-so-slightly as both you and Ron turned to him like you had just seen him for the first time. He shifted his weight uncomfortably; an attempt to get rid of that eerie shiver that ran down his spine as your incensed gaze fell on him.

That seemed to snap you out of it, and your cheeks flushed a bit in regret. “Fair enough...” you muttered, nodding at Sebastian. “Sorry.”

He nodded back, unsure about what to do as he shifted his eyes between you and Ron, letting them linger on your face each time he looked at you. Your nose had that same curve he always wished he could kiss, run his lips over with reverence… He shook the thought out of his head immediately.

“I should receive an apology as well,” muttered Ron, and Hermione nudged his arm as a warning not to add fuel to the fire.

"You have one day. Just one." You gave Ron an ultimatum, your tone sharp and, Sebastian thought, quite frightening. He hoped to never find himself in Ron's place. “And don’t expect me to help you ever again, I'm tired of it!”

You didn’t wait for an answer and began to walk away, only stopping briefly to look at the Slytherin boy. "I wish you the best of luck, especially if he— " you glanced at Ron again "—has to be the one guiding you through this maze they call a school."

Sebastian gasped and opened his mouth to reply, but his words seemed to be stuck somewhere between his throat and his tongue. He let his eyes fleet over your face again, heart beating out of his chest as he tried to make out your features, like in a dream.

"I hope we'll meet again soon enough." You forced a smile on your face that looked almost guilty and embarrassed, and with that, you were gone.

His eyes followed you until you turned a corner and vanished from his sight, thoughts racing at a hundred miles an hour — questions with no answers clouding his mind more and more each second. Who were you? Why did you look like her? And above all, why did you bear her family name?

Even after the theatricals that he had just witnessed, there was a certain hope in his heart: traitorous and wrong. A hope that she was really there, somewhere, waiting for him. A hope he immediately wanted to crush as soon as the image of your eyes and red robes flashed in the window of his vision again.

Sebastian Sallow was utterly, completely, absolutely losing his mind.

He was aware of the gravity of his situation — his body still spasmed uncomfortably every now and then as a result of having travelled through space and time — but, Sebastian realised, it felt more like a trance. A painfully aware and too tight reverie he couldn't find a way out of. After all, just the night before, Natty had asked him if he wanted to take part in Summoner's Court with her the next day, hadn't she?

And just a few hours after that, Sebastian had decided to try his last chance, opening the artefact that, he had believed, would bring him back to a time where her sister wasn't cursed — a time he could have avoided the disaster. And not just one at that.

He took a deep breath, willing the halls of Hogwarts to become brighter in his vision, more real. He was indeed in the future, he repeated himself, his ribcage evidently too small to contain the excruciating throbbing he felt in his chest. He had to accept that. He did. Probably.

“Bloody hell!” Sebastian heard Ron mutter as he also stared at the point from which you had just disappeared. “What was all that for?”

“Honestly, Ronald…” said Hermione curtly. “We’ll deal with this later.”

Still, Sebastian felt painfully calm at his situation: the sort of calm that he only experienced when he knew he was in trouble and couldn't do anything about it, or when he knew he was in trouble and had the solution for it lying in his hands, teeming down his throat like a treacly and old pint of Butterbeer, or a briquette of ice, whipsawed by the choice of safely travelling down his stomach and melt and leave him warm and satisfied or change direction and chill his lungs and cut his breath and bring him to a freeze.

What would Sebastian, a calm and collected person (and he believed he was, or tried, at least), do in a similar situation?

Two options came to his mind, clear and painfully bright.

To freak out completely until he was in shambles on the floor, addled and ready to break himself and cut the edges of his persona to fit into the new reality he now essentially belonged to, though he still didn't feel like it.

Or estrange himself from said reality, seeing it through lenses, analysing the world around him as if he weren't there until he found a way to go back, like a spectator, a reader. And he was indeed a reader.

In a way, the very core of one was tantamount to the other — both would completely destroy him. And Sebastian Sallow could not allow himself to be destroyed. Not like this.

But then there was another, the one Sebastian desperately willed himself to adopt, keeping his edges glued to himself and the lenses away from his perfectly working eyes.

The one he followed when everyone had lost hope for Anne.

And that was any option available, and every rational thought, even if the sound of them — or anything else, really — was still drowned by the loud pounding of his heart reverberating at the thought of the girl who just flipped his world upside down.

“What did you say her name was again?” Sebastian asked the two students, his eyes never leaving the corner you had just turned.

Ron and Hermione both looked at him with surprise; Ron opened his mouth with a scowl, as if about to make a snarky remark, but Hermione interrupted him, repeating your name calmly.

That was indeed the name.

And so he tried to be as rational as possible.

“Thank you,” said Sebastian quietly, lips parted, gaze musing. “I’d forgotten that just there.”

You were her descendant, a hundred years from his time.

Sebastian couldn't remember her having any siblings or cousins who bore her surname, but if you did, you had to have received it from a male member of her family, didn't you? She couldn't possibly have given you her name unless she married someone from her own bloodline, and Merlin, he hated that thought.

Or she had married someone else and decided to keep her own surname instead, and, once again, Sebastian knew — it wasn't his first thought, of course, but certainly one that plagued his mind — that he couldn't have been the one she had married, because if one thing was true about Sebastian Sallow, it was that he'd have burned down the world just to get her to take his last name.

His thoughts circled back to her family, but try as he might, he couldn't pinpoint any related members from whom you might descend. He was starting to feel dizzy and sure to be on the brink of collapsing under the amount of information he was trying to process, but then Ron and Hermione pulled him out of his trance by starting to explain the rules of the castle, the classes to attend and some basic information about the Professors.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts changes every year; they say there's a curse on the chair or something," explained Ron, having calmed down a bit, and half-smiled, "so you won't have to see toad-face for long."

"Toad-what?" asked Sebastian absent-mindedly, his head still teeming with disjointed thoughts and meandering ideas which, Sebastian was sure of it, would never find a proper abode.

"Our new Professor. You'll see what I mean when you meet her for the first time."

Sebastian nodded occasionally as he listened to them talk about the other Professors, such as Snape, the Potions teacher, and also the Head of the Slytherin House. Ron kept going on about how annoying he was, trying not to show how much he was afraid of him. "You don't have to worry, though: Slytherins get special treatment from him," he said jokingly.

Ron, Sebastian decided then, was a nice fellow. He found himself wondering why you had reproached him so harshly. He had half-a-mind to ask, then, about your behaviour — and why both the two Gryffindors seemed to be far less surprised about it than he expected. He decided against it.

"Wait, what do you mean, she won't let you use spells?" Sebastian frowned as they talked about 'toad-face', alias Dolores Umbridge.

"She's from the Ministry," explained Hermione. "After what happened last year, we're sure they're doing everything they can to keep the school under control and make sure no lies—" she stroked the word sarcastically, "—are spread among the students.

"I'll explain everything later. We should focus on more important things, like your academic persona and your education," she added, noticing his confused expression.

She was definitely Prefect and worthy of her role too, at least if you went by the typical clichés.

The hours passed, and there wasn't a minute when Sebastian didn't think of her.

And of you.

Because the more time he spent walking, the more his rationality seemed weak and pointless.

He thought he'd go mad, her memories spoiled by your oh-so-similar but equally different features. He saw your eyes looking at him back in the Scriptorium, as she was ready to take the Cruciatus Curse rather than cast it on him. He saw a Gryffindor sitting by him in Herbology, stealing not-so-subtle glances while tending to the mandrakes. He felt like his mind was splitting in half, frustrated and embittered and close to tears as you tainted his remembrances of her.

He needed to see you again, talk to you, ask about your life, your family, your past. He needed to know every thought behind your eyes, every subtle expression towards him that could mean you recognised him, that you were her, that you remembered him, remembered your time together, that you'd follow him in all his antics, in all his mistakes, in all his choices, that your actions meant more than your words.

That you loved him as he loved you — as he loved her.

Her.

Not you.

Because he didn't need to talk to you. Because indeed your recent actions spoke louder than words ever could.

Because no matter how much Sebastian fooled himself into thinking that he wasn't alone, stuck in a world that had gone on without him for a hundred years, that she returned his feelings the way he thought she did, that somehow you'd look at him and know that she was meant for him, that you were meant for him, you weren't her . You didn't know him. You could never know him as she did, and not because he wouldn't let you in — he'd run to you even now and lay his heart open if it meant finding a faint resemblance to what it used to be — but because he couldn't allow it. He couldn't risk being emotionally stuck somewhere he didn't belong just because his heart was grieving and crying out for a memory of the girl it broke and pieced itself back together for. He couldn't do that to you. He couldn't do that to himself. He couldn't do that to her.

At that moment, Sebastian made the decision to stay as far away from you as possible.

He snapped out of his thoughts as he reached the Great Hall. He hadn't noticed that it was already lunchtime.

"Do you think Dumbledore will make a speech to introduce him or not?" asked Ron, not caring that the Slytherin boy could hear him loud and clear.

"I don't think he'd just let it go, but I hope it won't be as big as last year's," noted Hermione.

"Those were two bloody new schools, Hermione. This one must be different."

He felt like a new Honeydukes product hitting the shelves for the first time.

It turned out the Headmaster hadn't made a speech to introduce him, and Sebastian almost would have preferred it if he had, because he felt like a circus monkey sitting at the Slytherin table with a hundred eyes staring at him like he'd just broken into their home and stole a particularly rare card from their Chocolate Frogs collection. He looked around at the other tables and saw heads turning away so quickly that he was sure he would be the culprit in a mass murder with a thousand broken necks. He sighed as a girl with dark hair and green eyes sitting opposite of him handed him mashed potatoes.

"Do you want to eat or not? No one poisoned your food just because they don't know you."

Sebastian glanced at her and accepted her plate, munching his food slowly as if he didn't quite believe her.

"I'm Pansy Parkinson."

"Sebastian Sallow."

"Sallow? Never heard of that name. What's your blood status?"

He almost choked on his food at her blunt question. What kind of uncivilised conversation was this? And the way she looked at him, waiting for his answer, he knew that that question alone could decide his entire future — hopefully a short one — in that House.

"I'm a pureblood like you, I suppose," he lied, lifting an eyebrow as he blankly stared at the girl.

"I see," said Pansy, narrowing her eyes as if not fully believing him. And Sebastian knew it was probably time for him to make up a story, a lie he could tell everyone in the indefinite amount of time he was to spend among them.

He had put a great deal of thought into what wanted to tell in the past hour — he could, after all, be anyone. Anyone he wanted.

He could change his past, he could avoid his mistakes, he could pretend to be a normal boy with a normal life. He could just be.

In the end, it didn't matter, because while other people might look at him and see only a picture-perfect new student with a thirst for knowledge, he would look at himself and see the boy who tortured his friend, the boy who murdered his uncle.

They might not know, but he would.

He kept the edges tight against his body, and decided to opt for a half lie that made it easier for him to play on and not forget any details.

He told her that he wasn't from the Highlands. He told her how his parents were Professors at another magical school but died prematurely, and left him to live with his uncle, a former Auror. And he told her about his timely death as well, omitting, of course, his involvement in it.

"When he died, too, I decided to move here," he concluded simply, hiding the tremble of his lips behind a glass of pumpkin juice.

Part of him expected sympathy from her, or at least a hint of hesitation; that look he had become so accustomed to whenever people came to know about his tragic tale or something along those lines.

Surprisingly — though, for some reason, Sebastian wasn’t surprised in the slightest — Pansy Parkinson didn't seem to care at all.

"Were your parents true purebloods or filthy blood traitors like the Weasleys?" she asked instead, clearly showing where her priorities lay, and it was enough for him to know that his earlier hope that there would be no more discrimination was merely a child's prayer.

"They have magic. That's the only thing you need to know." Sebastian cut short before focusing on his food. He noticed the familiar badge on her robes and silently thanked Dumbledore for assigning him to the Gryffindor Prefects instead. At least they never judged him, not even for dwelling with time and space like a bloody idiot — though he believed he had seen a gleam of reproach in Hermione's eyes as she'd uttered the word 'misadventure .

"All right, I believe you." She shrugged.

Sebastian wasn't convinced.

Pansy nudged a boy beside her, who looked at him with his piercing grey eyes. He was pale, with sleek blond hair so light it almost looked white, and also wore a badge. He reminded Sebastian of Ominis. That must be Malfoy.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," — it hadn't been so hard to guess, though now Sebastian thought he'd rather not meet him at all — "I saw you walking around today with that skint blood traitor and that mudblood Granger. You should have been assigned to us. It's not worth it to taint your blood status by associating with such filth," he spoke venomously, a mocking tone punctuating his sentences.

Skint blood traitor. Mudblood. He was exactly like those boors Sebastian so enjoyed thrashing in Crossed Wands when they had the guts to join. Perhaps he could do the same with him — blast him with Bombarda until his hair turned black (or he went bald; any of them would do).

Sebastian didn't know why he suddenly felt like defending the honour of two people he had met that same day, but he wished he could poison his food instead.

"Maybe next time you'll be considered fit for your assigned role. I suppose all that purity didn’t take you that far this time," he replied just as rudely.

Draco Malfoy made a weird face — a mix between stunned and angry and that half smirk that had begun to creep up his face as he had expected Sebastian to agree with him, and that had died on his lips but not yet fully, and the whole thing was so comical Sebastian had to hold back a snort. Because that was not (not in a million years, no matter how many artefacts he accidentally opened) going to happen, and when Draco Malfoy realised it, he seemed to have a hard time closing his mouth back to a dignified expression.

"I'd be careful if I were you, new student. I'm a Prefect!" he threatened, squinting his grey eyes and finally gaining enough control to curl his lip into a small smirk.

Spoiled bragger, Sebastian thought.

"And what exactly are you planning to do — take points away from your own House?" replied Sebastian, smirking back, enjoying how his face turned back to that ferret-like countenance.

"We share the same dormitory. Choose your words carefully." Draco Malfoy pursed his lips, his face becoming even paler. Sebastian wondered if he had even an ounce of blood in that body of his.

"We do indeed, so I suggest you sleep with one eye open," retorted Sebastian. Part of him knew that, logically, he should have been more mature about the situation.

But Merlin, he was starting to despise the brat.

(And the other part of him was still fantasising about that Bombarda-induced vengeance).

"You think you can scare me?"

Draco Malfoy snickered, and the line of Slytherins sitting on his side began staring at the two boys with piqued interest, wondering what all the fuss was about. It was quite unusual for two Slytherins to argue so openly, and even students from other Houses had begun to turn their heads towards their direction. Two big students beside Draco Malfoy snickered, too, as if on cue. Sebastian felt a wave of repugnance at how pathetic they looked.

"Definitely not, especially when you have your guard dogs next to you." Sebastian nodded at the two students mockingly. "Tell me, does your father pay them to be by your side? They can't be that stupid to volunteer to be in your presence."

The blond appeared to want to eat him alive, while the other two took a bit longer to fully understand his words before reproducing the same angry expression. Perhaps Sebastian understood your outburst: it was indeed gratifying to pour his disdain out. Though, unlike you, Sebastian didn't feel an ounce of regret.

"All right, Draco, enough of this," interrupted Pansy with a sigh, before giving Sebastian a hateful look. "He's a blood traitor like Weasley, and he'd better take care of his priorities."

Sebastian ignored her, focusing back on his food and already dreading the idea of having to share his Common Room and dormitory with people like that. Maybe he could sleep in the Undercroft for the rest of the year. He wondered if that place still existed at all.

Strangely enough, the aftermath was quite unsatisfactory, and Sebastian felt his cheeks warm up as he realised he had indeed acted like an immature git, stepping down right at their level. He stared at his half-empty plate, abashed.

The time passing, then, felt particularly chilly under his skin.

After he felt content enough with his lunch, Sebastian stood up, ready to meet the two Gryffindors again. He faltered a little as he looked around their table, his chest squeezing as he caught a glimpse of you. And not just a glimpse.

He watched you as you engaged in a happy conversation with a red-haired girl next to you: she scarily resembled Ron, so he deduced that she must be his sister. The two Prefects sat opposite you, and on your other side was a boy with messy black hair and round glasses.

Sebastian noticed how you tried to avoid Ron's eyes, only glancing up at him through your lashes from time to time before looking back at the girl, and he wondered if you would even apologise or if you were waiting for the red-head to do so. How proud were you? How much did you care? To which length were you willing to go for the people you loved? Sebastian felt a compulsive need to know it all, a new wave of hunger right in the pit of his stomach, completely empty even after his heavy, albeit displeasing, lunch, and ready to be fed by what all he could find about you. He needed to know every last bit of information, if it was the last thing he did in that new world.

That eerie calm chilled his bones again, moderately assuaging his desire, like a glass of cold water before supper. Sebastian realised he was stuck, so he had no rush to do exactly that. He didn't need to be greedy, to devour — though the idea was tempting indeed — and to gobble up every bit of you yet. He could feast, he could savour, he could indulge in his sumptuous meal like he deserved. And then he would find his way back, satiated beyond belief.

Now that would take his edges off.

He shook his head, derailing that tingly feeling running down his lower stomach before it nestled, and averted his eyes, instead noticing that barely anyone had left the Great Hall, and he was the only Slytherin standing. He quickly walked out of the room and rested against a column, wondering if he should wait for Ron and Hermione to finish eating and meet him, or if he should just go alone.

Sebastian decided to walk to the Defence Against the Dark Arts tower, to the Undercroft, praying it would still be there, untouched by other students. When he arrived, he saw the familiar clock, and his heart swelled in fear and anticipation as he took out his wand and flourished it like he had done so many times he practically relied on muscle memory alone.

The clock hands started to turn, and he breathed a sigh of relief as a door opened to the familiar room that he considered an analogue to his house. He stepped in carefully and looked around. The furniture hadn’t moved an inch in a hundred years, still in the same position that Ominis knew by memory. He wondered about him: if he knew Sebastian would one day disappear forever only to remain stuck in the future, if he had waited for him in that same room hoping for him to come back, or if he was glad he was gone after all.

Sebastian wondered if he would ever return to his time: if Ominis and Anne had been waiting for him their entire lives, getting old without him, and if they had hoped that they would one day see him again, and then he had another terrifying thought: what if he went back yet it was too late?

What if all of his pals were much older than him once he did? What if, upon his return, he discovered Anne still suffering the effects of the curse, or worse yet, already deceased? What if Ominis had been made to return to his family, where he would have either changed into one of them or been tortured and murdered? What if she had found someone else to fall in love and share the rest of her life with, or what if the perilous journeys she was compelled to take killed her and he had not been there to save her?

"Scourgify!" he declared, pointing his wand at various objects around him to clean them, wishing he could reproduce the same effect on his mind.

Once he was done, he sat down, leaned against a column, and put his head in his hands, breathing deeply and feeling his eyes burn.

The calm had gone, replaced by pure, utter despair and panic. It had only been a few hours since he'd found himself there, confused and startled, and he knew it would be many more until he went back — if ever.

If ever.

The thought cut at his lungs like sharp glass, drawing quiet and wet sobs. He didn't know whether the artefact could ever be repaired at all. He didn't know whether he could control it enough to go back if it was repaired. For all he knew, he'd find himself in bloody Mesopotamia, if he was lucky enough to survive another travel. Or he'd get stuck between time and space, forever embedded in the threads between realities.

Based on those thoughts alone, Sebastian felt like he should be grateful to have found himself still in Hogwarts, as safe as he could be, but he wasn't.

He missed his routine, his life, his friends. He had disappointed Ominis, but he would give anything to hear his voice now, even if he yelled at him, to see Anne even if she did not want to see him, to read their old letters over and over again, to accompany her on whatever adventure she was setting out on. Heck , he wanted to hear Headmaster Black's voice scolding him for his horrible detention record, listen to Poppy ramble about her dear magical creatures, see Garreth blow up his potions, and even wanted to hear Imelda complain about Quidditch being cancelled. He missed it all.

He spent some time there alone — he did not know whether it was minutes or hours — weeping silently to himself. His wrists copiously moved to his eyes in a weak attempt to dry his tears, which kept falling nonetheless, undaunted, wetting his cardigan and shirt and skin.

Sebastian had always prided himself in his capacity to bottle up emotions, to avoid the crying and instead channelling those goopy feelings into something more useful, like studying or spellcasting. That had backfired, and Sebastian had to learn, awfully, that doing that didn't mean those emotions wouldn't force their way out in a way or another, and after what had happened in the Catacombs, where his feelings had exploded in the worst way imaginable, he had reluctantly decided that crying alone was the best way to let them flow naturally. With that and everything that had happened to him within a few weeks, not to mention the previous events, he felt overwhelmed.

He hated it.

After drying his tears as best he could, hoping that no one would notice his glistening eyes or swollen face, he decided to leave the Undercroft and find Ron and Hermione again; they were to give him his timetable, as he would join their class starting the next day. That was before he abandoned them.

He stepped out of the room and froze in his steps. You were sitting on the ground just outside, back against the wall, focused on your textbook. You looked up once you heard a noise, and saw a dishevelled and surprised Sebastian staring straight at you.

"Oh, well, hello again, new fifth-year!" You smiled politely.

He cursed under his breath, turning his face away slightly and rubbing the back of his hand under his nose again, in case any stray tears were still present.

"'Didn't know about another secret passage in the school," you continued, apparently ignoring his actions, before muttering to yourself, "It wasn't on the Map."

"Map?" he said in a rough, unfamiliar voice, surprising even himself.

You examined him, a quizzical expression on your face. "Have you been crying?" you asked bluntly, raising your eyebrows in surprise.

Great job, Sebastian. Perfect disguise.

He felt his cheeks warm up, and he turned away again. "No... not at all." He cleared his throat, trying to find a way to switch up the conversation when his eyes fell on your book. "What are you reading?"

You frowned slightly, obviously not believing him, but understanding that he wasn't willing to talk about it, and looked back at your book. "My Herbology book. Ron gave it back to me at lunch. Finally, I’d say."

Sebastian paused for a moment, unsure whether it was appropriate to ask about what happened in the corridor, but then he felt that ache again, right above his navel, and the words slipped from his mouth without restraint. "Did you two—"

"Don't." You interrupted him and averted your eyes, staring down at the cover musingly. "Don't bring it up again. That was already embarrassing as it was."

Sebastian stayed quiet, his eyes never leaving your form. He would very much have liked to just plunge into your brain at that moment and make himself at home there.

Perhaps he needed to add 'Learn Legilimency' to his to-do list.

"How so?" he asked at length, quite stupidly, he realised.

"I lost my temper," you said simply, and forced your eyes back towards him. Your next words seemed to eject out of your mouth painfully, like they were unfamiliar to you, and it took a while for you to utter them. You sighed, "I— I suppose… I owe you an apology."

An apology never felt so forced and so sincere at the same time. "Oh, you don't have to—"

"I do. It wasn't the best impression I made of myself." Your lips parted as you leaned your head back on the wall. "I suppose I have to apologise to Ron as well — properly, I mean."

Sebastian stayed quiet, observing you curiously. Why were you telling him all that? "I... suppose," he uttered, not knowing what else to say. That appeared to be enough for you because you didn't even seem to acknowledge his words.

"He was looking for you, you know? Hermione, too. They said they needed to give you your schedule."

"Ah, yes, they mentioned that before," said Sebastian, glad to change the topic. "I’ll meet them promptly then, I was—"

"—Too busy hiding in a place no one else knew about," you continued for him.

That made him still in his steps, a chill running down his spine. Your eyes met: his open wide, yours unwavering and daring him to contradict your statement.

Perhaps the previous topic was way better.

"I just..." Come on, Sebastian, think!

"I just stumbled upon it!"

Usually he was one to conjure lies out of thin air, but being around you made his brain seem to melt. Sebastian thought that it was because he didn't really want to lie to you, or perhaps it was because, with the way your eyes pierced him, he felt as if you already knew all his secrets, all his lies, and you certainly wouldn't be fooled, not even if he made up a whole story full of intricacies and chapters worth publishing.

He knew, however, that the answer was neither, and it lay deeper than anything he was willing to admit to himself so loudly that he had to face it.

"Right."

You closed your book and stood up, facing him. He couldn't read your expression properly, but he felt his body start to uncharacteristically shrivel at the intensity with which you stared him down. He was in Ron's place.

"Strange, isn’t it? how the new student suddenly stumbles upon a secret room on his first day — a room not even Fred and George know about."

You had spoken that last part quietly, as if only to yourself. In fact, Sebastian didn’t know who Fred and George were at all. And, frankly, he didn't want to. "What can I say? I’m full of surprises," he replied smoothly.

"Or full of lies." You hadn’t missed a beat.

It was frightening how easily you had switched back to the girl he had met in the corridor. And he pitied it. And he liked it. And perhaps he was a fool for liking it, and an even bigger fool for pitying it. "I didn’t know it was illegal to be in this room," he said, scowling.

"Illegal? Oh, not at all. But certainly unusual for someone who has supposedly never set foot in this school before."

You took a step towards him, and he had to fight the urge to take one back himself. There was something wrong in the air — something goopy and misty and heavy, penetrating his skin like Mallowsweet fumes, inebriating and dizzying and frighteningly close to losing control. He had only felt it once, in Hogsmeade nonetheless. Electric and impatient, but, now, shrouded. That day, it had been galvanising. Now it was almost shy — almost… veiled.

"Hermione told me that she barely only took you through the first two floors. You're not even supposed to know about the classroom's whereabouts, and yet you seem all too comfortable with your surroundings," you continued, unaware.

He felt his heartbeat accelerate. Why did you have to be so inquisitive? Was he supposed to tell you the truth now?

Dumbledore’s voice came back to his mind: "...unless it's absolutely necessary."

"I don’t know what you're talking about. It was an accident, as I said," replied Sebastian in a poor attempt to reason again, knowing full well you wouldn't believe him.

"Certainly a convenient one." He twitched involuntarily, like he had just got a shock. The corners of your lips lifted in a sneer. "You are an interesting case... Sebastian, was it?"

He nodded hesitantly and narrowed his eyes, baffled at your countenance and your confounding words. An interesting case?

You shuffled on your feet in a nimble movement and pressed your back against the wall again, leaning onto it. "Don’t forget to show me that room sometime, too."

"And why would I do that?" Sebastian was growing impatient at your behaviour, while some part of him was thrilled at your nonchalance. The more you bantered with him, teasing him like that, the more he felt his stomach flutter. He hated himself for it.

He felt a sudden urge to leave. To run to his Common Room, or back into the Great Hall, where the noise cramming his ears would be enough to shut down each and any possible much-too-loud beat of his heart, as if the mere sound of those tiny pulses would beguile him into wandering proscribed feelings. A deceit of his own body he wasn't willing to face, not even through his love of the forbidden. The hunger and ache had to stay just that: mere curiosity, more about her and her family than you.

But he stayed in the silence of the corridor, with a loud pounding noise in his ears.

"Because it would be a shame if other people in, let’s see, higher power were to know about it, too, wouldn’t it?" You moved a hand through your hair to push it back, clearing your vision, and Sebastian watched as your locks fell around your face, a twinge in his chest. "Although I do believe Professor Flitwick would love to have another room for his choir practice. Is there a good acoustic in it?" You peered over his shoulder and towards the now closed door with a playful smile, clearly only teasing him, but the way the light fell on the tresses framing your visage was a bit too familiar to him. His mind stalled for a moment, and he didn't want those beats to stop anymore.

"Why do you care about this room so much?" Sebastian shifted his weight, now taking a step forward as well, and your eyes flickered down when you perceived the movement. Your lip twitched a bit.

"Why do you?" You simply replied, shrugging. "A secret room is a secret room. Don't you want to be a proper new student and get in good with the Professors?"

Sebastian felt his stomach boil at your singsong tone. "That seems to be more of a Gryffindor trait."

"Is it? And how much does a supposed stranger know about our Houses?"

His breath hitched and his resolve crumbled immediately at your quick retort. Sebastian warmed all over and stilled in his steps, feeling a bit too heavy on his legs. The image of the girl who lost her temper in the corridor was the one he had expected to evoke, pity even, yet she was nowhere to be found as your half-lidded gaze stared at him impishly.

"Besides," you continued, clearly feeding off his reaction with increasing confidence. "You should really get to know your Slytherin peers a bit more. Hopefully you won't become like them, but alas if you do, you'll end up snitching on this place yourself."

The thrill gradually disappeared, replaced by unadulterated annoyance. He found himself lowering his head, and he glared down at you, heart pounding in his ears. Your eyes stayed unwavering in his, though Sebastian noticed your crossed arms tightening marginally around your chest. "You can only wish to be like us," he hissed.

As you lifted an eyebrow daringly, he stepped forward again, finally free of that marbly perception that had spread through his body at your mockery, and towered over you. You tilted your head up, eyes never leaving his, the red and gold making them stand out in a way that only sent a new wave of anger through Sebastian's bones.

You could only wish to be like her.

"My dream in life."

Your voice rustled softly against your teeth, stretching with the smirk you wore, daring him to retort again. Sebastian felt it spread before he could even process your words entirely, burning through his guts all the way up to his trembling hands. That hunger. Craving. Ache. And something else — something that made the corners of his mouth tingle and his head tilt forward slightly more. He inhaled deeply from his nose, breathing out gratingly, air straining against his throat.

"Shall I serve as your future proxy and tell the faculty about it now?" you continued, voice glottal and purring, faring on the satisfaction of his heavy breathing on your face. "Might save you time ahead."

A low chuckle left his lips. "Even if you told the faculty about it, I could always pretend you were the one who showed it to me and kept it a secret all this time. After all, I am the new student, aren’t I?"

He grinned to himself as your smile fell slightly, squinting as you looked at him, but it only lasted a moment before you spoke again.

"And why, pray tell, would anyone believe that I would fraternise with a Slytherin enough to show said person a secret room?" You leaned your head on the side, and Sebastian’s heart jumped again. "And why would I turn myself in, given I would have, supposedly, kept my room hidden for five years?"

"It's my room," replied Sebastian lowly, instinctually, voice slightly trembling, blood rising to his head. Despite the height difference, he was starting to feel smaller and smaller every time you spoke, crushing his resolve word by word. It made him shrivel. "I knew it before. You're not welcome in it, nor is it any of your business."

"You knew it before," you repeated blankly, like you didn't care. "So you’re admitting to having learnt about this place already?"

What?

A heartbeat, a glint in your irises, and Sebastian's heart dropped pathetically as he realised he had given you exactly what you had been searching for — what you had wanted him to admit all this time. He shifted his weight back, leaning away from you. "No, I never said—"

"—I believe the Professors know about your true history — especially Dumbledore, you can't trick that one — so I know they won’t be fooled," you continued undaunted to shut each and every one of his possible retorts. "Plus, even if you told them that lie after I snitched on this place, they’d still let it go and take control of this room — Filch in particular. I won’t get into trouble just for keeping an insignificant room secret, but you would lose your special place."

His mouth fell open, for once at a loss for words. He could only stay silent as you threatened to reveal his hidden spot with that undeterred ragging tone of yours. Sebastian would usually brush off any threat against him, especially if it involved getting the help of teachers of all people — he was known for breaking rules on any occasion — but he couldn't ignore your words. He knew you had no idea how much that room meant to him; would you have cared if he told you? Would you have taken your words back? Why would he care if you had? He had promised himself to stay away from you, and that was exactly what he was planning to do. This conversation had gone on for too long.

"Who—Who says it's my special place?" Sebastian tried to salvage it, although his disingenuous and trembling voice betrayed him almost immediately.

"You reek of dust and humidity," you said with a satisfied smile, as if insouciantly waiting to shake his hand after your checkmate. "As if you've spent a lot of time in there just now. Also, no student in Hogwarts with more than a pea for a brain would ever refuse the comfort of a secret room no one has discovered yet."

You had deduced it... by his smell?

Sebastian had still been processing when you gathered your things and looked back at him, breaking into a genuine smile. "You look like you’ve just seen a ghost, and mind you, there are a lot of them in this school, so you'd better get used to it."

The corner of his lips quirked up against his will, heart gradually slowing down again. "Well, you did just threaten me in a way."

You chuckled — an unfeigned, carefree chuckle with no malicious hint — and shrugged. "I was never going to snitch on you, that would have been incongruous. I just wanted to see how this would go."

"I don't follow," he said at length, tilting his head slightly and raising an eyebrow at that. "Were you just playing with me?"

Sebastian didn't know why he had asked. It had been quite clear since you started talking that you had only run rings around him like he was a bloody amateur. He chewed on the insides of his cheeks in chagrin. You averted your eyes with a smile still on your face, and Sebastian wasn't sure whether to feel impressed or annoyed.

"Call it an investigation." You raised your hands in surrender. "I’m no Sherlock Holmes, of course, but..."

"Sherlock who?"

"He... Never mind." You shook your head, and looked back at him for a moment, biting your lip as if facing a conundrum. You sighed. "The thing is, from your perspective my threat should've appeared empty, or unfounded, because, as you said, the Professors would have believed that I was the one who showed you the room, as a more experienced student."

Sebastian listened intently, growing more confused the more you spoke. "Wait, so—"

"So, if you had nothing to hide and had really just found out about the room, you would've been less... defensive ," you explained, and Sebastian found no contempt in your voice: it was neutral, a bit excited maybe, but not mocking — perhaps only a little condescending, he noted bitterly. "Or, more specifically, you would have been defensive about me being out of line rather than about the room itself — more annoyed , I believe, at the fact that I got all up in your personal business uninvited."

The way you spoke, with unalloyed certitude and indisputable pride — though with an almost riveting aspect in your self-assurance, if he dared to admit it — seemed almost preposterous to Sebastian.

"Also," you continued, "if you had really stumbled upon it so easily, you would've been more shocked about the fact that no one else in the school had, wouldn't you?"

That actually... Made sense.

“What if I were just a new student who had accidentally found a room,” began Sebastian hesitantly, although he couldn't stop himself from being rather dazzled — and envious. And definitely ill at ease at your aptitude at reading people — him specifically. “And had completely panicked when another more experienced student threatened to reveal me as if I had done something horribly wrong?”

You looked at him, eyes shifting between his right and left one in a sequence. “Yeah,” you finally countenanced with a blithe nod. “That would have been perfectly plausible, too.”

Sebastian’s face fell, exasperated beyond measure. He suddenly felt a wave of lassitude wash over him and let out a world-weary sigh that earned him a small smile from you.

"Just know that you don't know me as much as you think you do," he said at length.

“I don’t know you at all,” you confirmed with a bright smile. “But I definitely enjoyed this. "

You pointed between the two of you, and Sebastian faltered, following your hand with his eyes for a moment before his gaze fixed on you again. "What?"

"It's just… I didn't lose my temper this time, and... well — it was sort of... nice."

Nice. The word you had used was nice. Sebastian found it anything but that: it had been humiliating to say the least. But again, he was the loser.

"You didn't lose your temper alright," said Sebastian, looking away. "Though we may need to get even on that."

Your eyebrows lifted and you broke into a giggle. "Yeah, perhaps. Even if I'm sure I'm not as much of a smooth talker when you’re not in… well… emotional distress."

To his own surprise, Sebastian smiled back, genuinely and widely and almost tenderly, letting his chest tingle freely and a little more than needed. "So you took advantage of me."

"That I did." You nodded at him. "It’s a pleasure doing business with you." And with that, you started to walk away, leaving him stunned but smiling in the middle of the corridor.

"Ah, before I go," you suddenly added, turning around and walking backwards, and his eyes shot to you once more; "last time I saw Ron and Hermione, they were near the Grand Staircase, on the second floor. If I meet them, I’ll send them to you."

You waved at him and turned around, walking down the stairs and disappearing from his sight.

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brabblesblog · 4 months

Text

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Ch 4: My throne for her heart

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

A little intimacy in the heart of their dominion starts conversations that have been waiting far too long.

Now professionally edited by @midnight-musings-of-nyx

Originally beta'd by @leomonae and @kringle-c

Read on AO3.

Masterlist

Full photo on twitter.

Ban looked at her husband, at the way he tried to play his request off as something playful and not something he needed. She easily saw through it, however, to the ever-present fear in his eyes. The fear was usually muted but was now so close to the surface; doubt threatening to drag him down into its endless depths.

She felt it in his grip, tremulous and softer than was his wont, as if he was holding fine china instead of muscle and sinew - resisting the urge to hold on tightly. She saw it in his chest, rising and falling a little too fast and in his eyes, the gaze rather distant.

He looked like a man drowning, yet she saw his concern was only for her comfort.

Ban shifted a leg to straddle him fully - Astarion’s eyes widened a fraction, even as his smile widened and his arms pulled her closer. She settled right above his cock, grinding against him once; the answering gasp was enough to tell her she’d read him right.

Her dearest Astarion, king of her heart, light of her life, although she still couldn’t bring herself to tell him that. Gone were the days when she would fiercely revel in hurting him, those early months after the rite where they’d traded venomous barbs just as they’d traded favors. Even still, she sometimes found a small sense of satisfaction in doing it.

Like today.

The Vampire Ascendant wouldn’t - I know you’re still in there, prick!

A little harsh, she thought to herself. Maybe a lot harsh. The roiling anger had yet to fully abate, but she’d cooled down enough to acknowledge at least that much. She scanned his features, seeing nothing but heartache and fear and that ever-present doubt all wrapped up in a slightly drunken and playful exterior.

The light of her life. He deserves to know. But she just couldn’t, not yet. Someday. But not now. Later. Perhaps she could comfort him with a lesser truth, instead.

“I’m not … good.” It slipped from her lips, a small confession of her own. “I never have been.”

She recalled his own words, a distant memory, nearly forgotten: I'm not... good. Never was. But I do try, at least when it comes to you.

Seven thousand dead, after all; condemned without a second thought, for him. Had they not had the complication of his changed behavior… she doubted she’d ever have regretted it at all. The judgment from their former friends and allies, her own dreams of a quiet life pushed to the wayside. All for him. All for love.

A small snort escaped Astarion, a smile crinkling his eyes as he nodded in recognition of his own echoed words. His hands slipped upwards, searching for the lacing on the back of her dress. “I am aware,” he murmured, head tilting up to meet her in a light kiss. Ban could feel him smiling into it, seemingly amused despite his nervousness. “That has never been an issue.”

“Not even when I -”

“- hurt me?” Another kiss, this time on her cheek; he drew his legs closer together, allowing her to straddle him more comfortably. “Were we to lay out just how often we’ve torn each other’s hearts out, darling, I’m sure you’d find there would be nothing left to save.”

Uttered in a careless purr, certainly, but this was what he feared most.

His deft, quick, fingers undid the laces of her dress, fingertips ghosting over the skin of her back. She shivered at the contact, his warmer body temperature sometimes still disconcerting. She noticed it less and less as time passed, however the stress of the day had brought older, gentler, memories to the forefront.

All the memories of before, of those nights spent within the tent or under the stars - he’d been cold in all of them. Cold like stone, eyes warm like embers, heart slow and yet so full of untainted love.

Her hands pushed his jacket and shirt off his shoulders; a move she remembered doing all too often back in those days, and gods, she shouldn’t be thinking about the past right now…

Both armor and undershirt fell from his shoulders in one motion, the touch of cool skin pleasant against her calloused palms. Underneath her he sighed, rolling his eyes as she lightly touched the gash on his chest. “This isn’t healing well,” she said, tracing the wound with a finger.

“It’ll be fine in a day or two,” Astarion answered, looking at her with an amused expression. She was straddling him; it would be one of many precious nights where they would explore each other’s bodies without pushing him too much. As soon as the clothes were off, he had a hand between her legs, fingers brushing over her clit with a teasing lightness. “For now, I suggest you focus on… something else.”

She laughed, a joyous, uncomplicated thing with him. “Can’t really focus elsewhere when it’s staring me in the face, Astarion. It looks bad. You should be more worried.”

He fixed his eyes on her then, offered a warm smile in return. “I can worry later. Right now I can only see you.”

“Ban?”

She blinked as she heard that same voice, his voice, and locked eyes with him. Astarion had finished shrugging his jacket off, he was watching her with a guarded gaze.

He knew she’d been lost in memories, memories of the him he was before, but he tried to ignore it. His hands began to move back to her dress, intending to lift it off her.

“I- let me,” she said, hoping to cover up that lapse in attention. She climbed off his lap, slipping out of her dress and underwear. Astarion froze for a moment, eyes following her every move; recovering quickly, he pushed off the rest of his clothing, kicking it away.

As Ban returned to his lap, Astarion let out a rough sigh; his hand wrapping around the swell of her ass. “You’re thinking,” he murmured, brow furrowing. He didn’t need to say what she was thinking about; they were both aware. “It’s been-”

“More than a year. I know.” She sighed. Nearly 15 months. She’d known him far longer as the Ascendant than she had before the ritual. Guilt bubbled in her stomach at this, guilt at still missing that version of him - as if he wasn’t the same man. She forcibly pushed the thought away, but not before mumbling a hurried “I’m sorry”.

Astarion looked away, then shrugged. “Forgiven, as always.” She could see the clench of his jaw and the hard gaze he was leveling at nothing in particular.

“It’s just… It hurts, and I wonder at times if… if he could have done this. If he could’ve gone behind my back, knowing I wasn’t ready for him to know that part of me. If he could’ve taken my choice away.” He opened his mouth but she pressed on before he could continue. “I know. He could have. You could have.”

He regarded her for a moment longer, then leaned forward, accepting her explanation. Hesitant lips met her own, the kiss unsure and almost frightened, his breath shaky.

“I would have told you of your family,” he whispered in between kisses, “eventually.”

Ban wasn’t sure how much of that was truth and how much was Astarion trying to convince himself. But for now, she found it sufficient.

“Not forgiven just yet,” she replied, her hand moving to rest over his heart, hips gently rolling against him. She was wet, despite her words; the sight of him lounging on his throne had always sent arousal shooting through her, without fail. She could feel his body responding to her proximity, his breath catching and his cock beginning to throb. A small, half-stifled groan escaped from his lips, seemingly equal parts want and frustration at her statement.

“You act like that’s a novel experience for me, darling,” Astarion quipped; he couldn’t completely hide the bitterness in his voice. The hand on her ass urged her to fully press against him; his cock twitched at the contact, head flushed and tip glistening. A small shiver went through him and she ran a hand soothingly through his curls, noting that despite the desire, there was tension in his movements.

The wetness of her cunt made him groan and he thrusted up gently, seeking friction and warmth. His length rubbed her clit, eyes flicking down to her breasts, as if he was admiring her body. She couldn’t exactly explain why, but it seemed off.

“Can we just-” He took a small pause as he considered what to say. The hand on Ban’s ass squeezed once, as if to remind himself that she was there and on top of him. “Just love me.”

Ban frowned, the tone and the words heightening her concern. She touched his cheek, guiding him to meet her gaze, and she realized she’d guessed right - he was hiding his face; the pain and fear there now impossible to conceal.

“Astarion.” These would be the most important words she’d utter today; angry or not, they needed to be said. “Listen carefully. I have, I do, and I will always love you.” She said it slowly, making sure each word was clear, hoping he’d understand.

The words seeped through him, soothing the wounds in his heart and Astarion found that he could manage a tiny smile. “Even after everything?” It came out teasingly, he hoped. His body, however, couldn’t fully hide his relief; his shoulders sagged and his breath let out in contentment. His hips rolled faster, rubbing against her core and earning him her low moan as he dragged against her clit. His free hand wrapped around the armrest, bracing himself a little better.

Ban chuckled, the sound made him melt. “I’ll still be upset in the morning, but in the end I’ll always choose you, choose us. We’ll get through it.” Stroking her thumb over his cheek, she slipped her other hand down to wrap around his length, causing his hips to jerk. A few strokes, just enough to ensure he was rock hard, and she lined herself up above him.

“Good enough,” he choked out. He shifts his legs, placing them closer together to better support her weight. There was still some trepidation and hurt - she still hasn’t forgiven me, what if she never will? bounced around his mind unbidden - but the latter half of her statement soothed him. She’d chosen him - him, who wasn’t enough, who’d always been someone’s plaything and never much more, something to be discarded once used, someone who’d become a monster in his quest for freedom. Him.

Running his tongue lightly up her neck, he was utterly lost in his love for her, every sense overtaken by her presence. He could feel her heat, taste her sweat, smell her want... He could see that she was in this moment with him, and he could hear how close she was - all he needed to do was push in. Astarion repositioned his feet, firmly planting them against the white marble floor; he held back for a few moments, cock throbbing, a reminder of just how easy it would be to bury himself in her and fuck.

That wasn’t what he wanted, however.

Say it again, darling? is what he planned to say, preferably in a low, purring tone.

“Say it again, please,” was what slipped out instead.

Her response was immediate, unhesitating. “I love you.” Another smile, another of those she saved only for him, and he finally watched her sink down and take him home.

Astarion’s eyes fell shut as he drank in the sensation of her all around him; tight, warm, wet - her. He’d fucked scores of people on this very same throne when she’d been gone. A procession of warm bodies, little more than cunts and cocks used to try to forget her, a tactic that had felt a little too close to his past to be comfortable; but he hadn’t had a choice, had he, when he’d needed something, anything, to forget-

He shook off the spiraling thoughts. But she’s here, now, he told himself. Here to stay, even when he’d upset her - although, he reminded himself, that is something he’d need to make amends for. But still. She’d stayed.

He opened his eyes, smiling despite himself. No fantasy he’d used back then could ever compare to the reality of this: Ban staring down at him as she began to move her hips, pleasuring them both. Of this sight, for him alone, of being the only one chosen to give her this, despite everything. He gripped her ass tighter, feeling the muscles shift with every move; he placed his other hand on her back to support her, fingers tracing gentle circles on the soft skin. Her weight pressed on him; not unpleasantly, but enough that his legs tensed to hold them both in place.

Astarion felt himself approaching his climax, perhaps a little too fast; not much surprise there. He’d spent the whole day anxious, worried she wouldn’t come home, and the relief of her being here and loving him affected him like nothing else. He considered just letting go, letting himself rut up into her, chasing his release, but thought better of it. Not yet.

He bit the inside of his cheek, enough for the pain to partially distract him from the mounting coil of desire in his core. “Wait,” he groaned as she lifted herself up and then sank back down again, the drag of her walls around him almost enough to push him over. “Let me- else I won’t last.”

She cocked her head at him, stilling for a second, then languidly rolled her hips in one smooth, teasing move. A low, desperate whine escaped him. “Then don’t, love. Let me make love to you, like you asked. Let me give you this.”

Gods. Who was he to refuse that? He nodded, a little too vigorously perhaps, eyes locked onto hers. She stroked his cheek again and he leaned into it, expression impossibly tender. “You need not do this, Ban,” he said, although his mind screamed yes, yes!

“I want to.”

Hearing nothing but absolute certainty there, Astarion finally allowed himself to relax back into the moment. He pressed her closer to him, wanting, needing more contact. His eyes roamed her face and he felt her hand rest on his chest, covering the heart that beat only for her, that beat because of her.

She rode him, utterly focused on bringing him to peak, her speed increasing just enough to build upon his pleasure, but not so much that he couldn’t relish every motion. He could feel every clench, that slick warm grip sending his mind reeling and his cock weeping deep inside her. A quick angling of her hips allowed her to sink him even deeper and he almost cried out. Each thrust now buried him to the hilt, and he fought the urge to let his eyes roll back into his head from the pleasure, wanting to see her. Her, his Ban, his consort, no, his wife, his beloved, his heart-

“That’s it,” she whispered encouragingly, one hand bracing on the armrest as she moved. “Come for me, love.”

He couldn’t help the whine that erupted from his lips as he came, fingers digging into Ban’s skin, holding on for dear life. He could feel her hips continuing to roll as he spilled inside her, vision going blurry as his whole being narrowed down into a pinpoint of white-hot pleasure. Astarion rode it out, hips jerking involuntarily and heart hammering against her palm.

Loved. He felt loved, a feeling that had admittedly been more common lately, but one he’d feared he’d lost in light of his deception. To know that it was still there even when things were turbulent was a reassuring comfort he had never known before.

To know that Ban wasn’t bolting at the first sign of trouble; to know he was loved and chosen still.

Perhaps he could eventually even believe he’s enough.

Ban watched Astarion come down from his high, breaths shallow as he finally released his grip on her ass. He sagged back against the throne, glassy eyes refocusing on her. He was as beautiful as ever, marble skin flushed and coated in a sheen of sweat. She could feel him softening inside her, and leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. That’s plenty for today, she thought. She didn’t think she had it in her to finish herself off; she was tired and mentally exhausted, and didn’t want him to feel insecure if she couldn’t come. But she’d loved giving him this, and it was enough for her.

His kisses felt a lot more confident, Astarion meeting her with equal fervor. When he finally pulled away, his eyes were shining; his hand slipping down to rest on Ban’s inner thigh, waiting for her to say yes.

She looked down, considering it. She was achingly wet, the desire compounded by the fact that he was still inside her, but she also wasn’t sure she actually could - the day’s events had been rather taxing on her, and she was beginning to tire from being spread open and riding him.

As if noting her indecision, Astarion’s brow furrowed. “Tell me what you want, p-”

He winced, quickly clearing his throat. “Darling.”

Ban raised an eyebrow. She’d asked him, long ago, to stop calling her pet, and he had done so without complaint or misstep; today would have been the first. But she understood why he’d nearly slipped. After all, she’d invoked the Ascendant, then they’d ended up on the throne after an argument, and this request was one he’d often employed after he’d first ascended.

“Thank you,” she said, acknowledging his effort to correct himself. “I would like to try, but…”

I don’t want to not finish and complicate things. Disappoint you, make you doubt.

“Might be better for me to take care of it myself, lest it end up being unsuccessful.”

He thought, silent for a moment. “May I at least help?” Before he could stop himself, he pushed on. “I’m still me. Let me please you. The way I did back then.”

Let me please you. Another familiar phrase, one he used to say in the privacy of their tent. She couldn’t help but feel wistful at the memory, but there is a wave of guilt that accompanies it at the realization that it’s still on his mind; she too finds navigating their renewed relationship challenging at times.

“Look. You can, and I would love you to, but-”

Her words died in her mouth as Astarion’s fingers slipped higher, two of them finding her clit and flicking once.

Pitched low, his voice washed over her, a gust of wind reigniting the embers of her desire. “Darling,” he purred, the wry grin she knew so well back on his face, “do you really want to go? Or do you want to come?”

The line was both hilarious and effective; Ban stifled a small laugh. “Fine. I can try to come, if that’s agreeable with you.”

His answer was quick and effortless. “Of course, love.” He considered for a moment, head tilting, then gently nudged her off his lap. As she stood, he finally slipped out of her, the loss of contact sending a small pang of regret through them both.

“Now come back,” Astarion said, spreading his legs wide and sitting further back, giving her ample space between his parted legs. “Sit, with- yes, that.”

She settled back onto the throne, her back to his chest. Astarion drew her close, arms wrapping around her waist; he settled his head next to hers to look down at her body, his breath tickling her ear.

Feeling his warm breaths ghost over her, she shivered. The sensation was so like before, and yet so different. The pale hand gliding up to cup a breast paused, and a soft kiss was pressed against her cheek.

“Tell me,” he whispered, “what you want. Where, faster, slower - everything.”

She couldn’t help the groan that escaped her at his words, watching his other hand slowly trace a path from her chest down to her belly. There was a soft press of lips against her temple, a light brush of fingers against her nipple that made her jerk. She noted, though, the tone of his voice - that silky-smooth purring was too perfect, and sighed. “I will, if you’ll relax.”

Astarion took a deep, rather shaky, breath; she felt his chest expanding against her back. “I… I can,” he said, the hand on her belly tracing gentle circles. “The offer remains, however. Anything you want, and it is yours…”

A small nod, and she leaned back against him, settling against the crook of his neck. “Touch me.”

The moment he did wasn’t electric, but soothing, satisfying that gnawing need growing in her core. His fingers moved in light, careful movements, not teasing but rather drawing out her pleasure. “That isn’t quite enough instruction, Ban. A little more would be highly appreciated,” he rumbled from behind her.

“A little faster, and…” She paused, unsure how to say it.

Her lack of experience had always been an ever-present thing, and letting herself fully go was a challenge. She’d come close during their adventures, but that ability had felt lost since their relationship had deteriorated after the rite. Ordering him around was one thing; letting him know clearly and honestly what she desired from him was far more challenging.

“Harder?” he offered. “I know precisely what to do, but I would so love to hear it from you.”

She whimpered, torn, and instead she grabbed his hand, leading it to her entrance.

“Ah,” Astarion nipped her ear, a gentle scrape of fangs that made her buck as his fingers traced around her opening. “So wet for me, so needy, and yet you won’t say it.”

The hand on her waist pulled her tighter to him, encouraging her to rest against him, letting her feel every rise and fall of his chest. He wasn’t leaning against the back of the chair, instead he held them both upright, without effort. The fingers skating across her entrance finally slipped inside in one smooth move; a moan escaped her.

“There,” he cooed, eyes fixed on his hand. “I adore the way you look with my fingers inside you. Positively divine." He kept his fingers still for a moment, smirking when she tried to cant her hips and fuck herself on them.

“Tut, tut,” he chided. “I won’t move unless you tell me precisely what to do. Since you have provided no commands…”

“Just fuck me, gods, Astarion,” she hissed out, desperation winning out over embarrassment.

That elicited a small laugh, and he began pumping his fingers in and out.

Ban bucked at the sensation, hips lifting up to chase his fingers, her own hands gripping his thighs for purchase; the evidence of her desire and the remnants of his release visible with every pass. Astarion felt his cock begin to stir again, and was unable to prevent the low groan that escaped him. It did seem to affect her, however; she clenched around his fingers at the sound.

That she wants him, was aroused by the simple sound of him groaning, brought a lazy satisfaction to him; he began to languidly rut against her ass, fingers still thrusting in and out of her.

It didn’t escape his notice that she was starting to willingly talk about what she wanted, even if he had to coax it out. More often than not, she’d skirt it and let him decide, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing: he knew the way she wanted everything, centuries of being attuned to people’s desires making her an easy study. However, hearing her say it was entirely different, a gesture of openness that he very much preferred. He quietly congratulated himself for this attempt today, though; it seemed like being drunk had given him just enough courage to try again without worrying about being rejected.

She wants me, needs me, whether it be my voice or my cock or even just my fingers. Not just that, even my laughter, and the way I banter at her over meals, and just… me, really. She’s even willing to open up and tell me what she desires, now - and maybe I am enough?

He will be enough, he swore. In every way she wanted him to be.

“You’re doing so well, love,” he purred, “but I’m certain there’s at least one more thing you’d like to ask of me.” He let his thumb graze over her clit, and was rewarded with the sensation of nails digging into the meat of his thighs.

“Yes, that,” she murmured, as if embarrassed.

“That… what?” he asked, the perfect picture of mock innocence; he lifted his thumb away.

“I want you to touch my clit,” Ban finally managed to say, the words dragged through her lips.

“There we go,” Astarion growled into her ear approvingly, pitching his voice low and rough. “My very good girl.”

He thought that was enough pushing her for now; finally allowing his thumb to press against her clit, stroking it a little to the-

“That side, yes,” she breathed, and he was amused by the sudden forwardness, a sudden wave of affection flooding him. The lazy way he’d been rutting into her hadn’t intensified; he had no intention of going further, but it felt nice, all the same. He rested his head on her shoulder as he finally let her have what she wanted, fingers driving into her faster, curling just the way she liked, his thumb alternating between lazy circles and stroking the side she prefers.

“I… I didn’t stumble onto the contract.” It slipped out of her mouth, and Astarion froze, the hand still cupping her breast tightening slightly. “I waited until you were asleep, and searched for it.”

He barely had to fight back the urge to call her out for her hypocrisy, to say something he wouldn’t mean in a day or so. He wasn’t daft, and this information didn’t surprise him at all. Instead he leaned forward to mouth at her neck.

“I won’t say I’m not…”

Upset? Piqued? Astarion weighed his words. His fingers resumed sliding in and out of her, although a little more absently. “Well, I’m not too pleased, I suppose. But it matters little.”

I love you too much to hold it against you.

The kiss on her neck turned into a light nip, fangs playfully grazing against her skin. “There,” he murmured. “Your punishment.”

Ban laughed, the sound cut off when he purposely thumbed her clit faster in response. “You could do better than that, Astarion,” she challenged, a hand snaking up to gently grab a fistful of his silver curls, and he couldn’t help the way his cock throbbed at her insolent, playful tone and the feel of his hair being tugged.

He resumed thrusting against her ass, each roll of his hips sending a dull sense of pleasure through him. He doubted he’d come again, but didn’t mind; his focus was on her. His fingers worked, fucking her harder, making sure to graze her spot with every pass, thumb rubbing her clit at precisely the angle he knew she liked best. He felt sweat beading both their bodies, wondered for a moment if they’d ruined the upholstery, then decided they could always have it redone.

“Would you like me to bite?” he asked, mouth still poised over her neck. “You need only ask, my love.” He phrased it as sweetly as he could, but the rutting against her only increased in fervency, a hint of his own excitement at the prospect of tasting her again.

He swore he could taste her every day and still not get used to it - nothing else came close. Astarion felt her clench around his fingers, the tightness intensifying. He responded accordingly, stroking her clit more firmly, fingers curling as they worked in and out of her core. Perfect, he thought. He figured if he timed it right, he could bring her over the edge as he sank his fangs in.

“Make it hurt,” she growled at him, baring her neck. The words sent a bolt of pure lust straight through him, his hips grinding against her in response. For a moment he considered flipping her around and burying himself in her, into that delectable heat, just pounding into her again and again without a second thought, drinking her blood, cock sheathed to the hilt-

No. You’ve already had your fill, he told himself. The love and trust she was showing him was more than enough.

Instead he bared his fangs, jaw widening, and sank them in. Hard, as requested, but precise - he knew not to cause too much pain.

The surge of blood into his mouth made him moan, his hips involuntarily thrusting harder, but he kept most of his attention on her - on the way she gasped and jerked in his arms, the way her hand tightened in his hair, the way her cunt clamped down on his fingers as she finally came, the surge of wetness that told him he’d done his job well.

He drank; not a lot, nowhere near the amount he used to, when he’d needed it for sustenance. And he held her close, too, taking her through her orgasm; rubbing, thrusting, squeezing, sucking. Once her body’s movements subsided to mere shivers, he licked over the pinprick wounds; swallowing down his last mouthful with a pang of regret.

Ban sagged against him, hand falling away from his hair as she nuzzled into his neck. He looked down at her, taken by the sight. His own hips stilled, burgeoning lust abating, replaced by a fierce, unbridled affection for the woman sprawled against him.

A small kiss on her cheek was all he managed; no words seemed sufficient for the sheer joy of the moment. He was aware it was partially relief - relief that she hadn’t taken his transgression as something to leave him over - but most of his joy was due to simple, blind, devotion.

Ban shifted against him. “Well that must’ve sobered you up some,” she teased, and he barked out a laugh in response.

“Positively,” he admitted. “Shall we clean up and go to bed, then, darling?”

Inwardly, he was just pleased to have her back. She stood, and he followed. He swayed, belatedly, realizing he might still be a little tipsy.

A loud laugh erupted from his dearest, his wife, his Ban, and her arms wrapped around him to help support him. They were both naked; he flapped a hand at her when she hesitated, looking over at their discarded clothing.

“Let the servants deal with it tomorrow. What do we even pay them for, if not to pick up after us?”

She snorted, unabashed, and he grinned at the sound. It was getting easier for her to open up around him, and he cherished every little sign of it. “Fine. Let’s go, you lush.”

He let her guide him without protest, leaning on her. There would be more discussions to be had over the issue of her family, certainly, but for now? He was loved. He was happy.

If you would like to see more of these two and their story, consider reading my other entries in the series "If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there."

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