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sillyblues · 1 year

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the ocean and the wind. (5)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ synopsis: tonowari is the ocean and ronal is the wind. where does it leave you?

ੈ✩‧₊˚ notes: reader is so lucky you have a support group but it's a good thing you are not that blind right?? anyways lmk your thoughts and which parts were your favorite i make sure to read all of your comments and rbs btw sometimes i just don't reply smts bc i got busy but yeah i appreciate every notes you leave!!

part 1 ✩ part 2 ✩ part 3 ✩ part 4 ✩ part 5 (here!) ✩ part 6 ✩ part 7 (final part)

The wind guides the ocean and wherever the ocean goes, the wind is there. The two cannot exist without the other for only together, they create the most beautiful peaceful calmness or the strongest violent storm.

Between the two, where does it leave you?

None. Of course, there is no place for you. You are nothing to them. You are not even a speck of particle that the air carries or the smallest piece of sand that the sea touches.

They were the source of your greed, your guilt and shame, but you were wrong. You are the shameful and disgraceful one. You who dared to overstep your boundaries. You who dared to desire them.

Humiliation burns your skin and chars your heart and remorse fills your lungs with smoke and suffocates you. You let it ablaze and reduce your heart to a pile of ashes and glowing embers that burn you inside out.

Your ache stings and brings forth droplets of salty tears that do nothing to extinguish your pyre.

"Ma’evi, what pains you so?" Your Sa'nok cradles you to her chest and sways you gently. Tears sprung out of her eyes as she puts your head on the crook of her neck. Like a furious river, you tremble and no rocks could stop your overflow as you sob.

Your muffled wails fill your home. You cry and cry undeserving tears you didn't notice when your father had come inside, only the warmth of another embrace and soft pats on your back.

“Cry it all out to us, my dear, and we will cry with you.” Do you dare to tell them? Do you dare to tell them of a horrible daughter you are? Do you dare to tell them of the sins you have committed?

“Let us see you, my child,” your mother tucks the strands of your hair that stick to your face into your ear. “Let us bear your pain instead,”

You don’t dare say anything and let their touch lull you to your sleep.

“The Olo’eyktan have announced that the Iknimiya will be held in a few days because of the auspicious sign of the return of our brothers and sisters,” your mother gently says as she cuts some food. You all sit on the floor as you eat. You didn’t want to eat with them at first, preferring to sleep the rest of the day away, but your parents have been concerned since your walls shattered in front of them. “Truth be told, your Sempul and I think you are ready.”

Your father hums as he offers you a bite from his hand and you eat it.

“Yes, we can see how independent you are already. You are even a greater hunter than I am now,” he jokes and your eyes waver at the effort he puts into making you feel better each day ever since your walls broke down in front of them. You smile and joke weakly in return.

“Am I now?”

“Mhm, an even better healer than me as well. I think you would make a great Tsahik,” you freeze at that. Memories of Ronal and Tonowari rush through your head and your hand trembles in place when you reached your hand for food. You quickly pulled back and lightly clasped your hands together, hiding your palms away from them.

Tsahik. Ronal is much suited for the position. She is more suited as Tonowari’s mate and Tonowari is more suited for her. Their bond is like no other after all. You would not be surprised should they choose each other when they complete their Iknimiya, Letsakx made a good job of waking you up from the blindness of their attraction for each other, which will happen soon. Very soon. And soon, you will have to live with your closest friends’ love that does not include you.

You hum, not daring to speak for fear you might stutter and they will hear the shakiness of your voice. They are very keen and observant. Perhaps they already have an inkling of what you feel. Of what you have thought. And what you have done.

“But Ma’evi, we are not saying this because we want you to complete your Iknimaya now,” your mother says as she takes the knife and plate away and gets closer to all of you three. She holds your hand in hers and looks at you with so much softness and your father squeezes your other hand with such gentleness that you feel yourself tearing up but you hold it down. “We do not want you to do it if you yourself do not feel ready.”

“Take your time, my dear, we will be always waiting here for you.” Really, you don’t deserve your parents. They don’t deserve a child like you. But the love they have for you is great and you find yourself squeezing their hands.

You find yourself letting them see you.

The day of Iknimaya has come and all of the men, women, and children had gathered on the central island. Many young hunters participated in this coming-of-age ritual. You are among them, along with your other friends and some you knew from one of your classes back then and of course, Tonowari and Ronal. They had been trying to get close to you, but you only smile painfully so.

“Are you alright now, [Name]? I haven’t seen you in so long!” Tonowari says to you with concern swimming in his bright blue eyes and your heart flutters at the thought that you were his subject of worry, but you are quickly reminded that you are not his. Ronal touches you and inspects you carefully as she circles around you for wounds that you might have. Your battered heart trembles under her keen gaze that looks only at you for the moment but you are quickly reminded that you are not hers.

“Your mother told us that you had gotten ill, are you sure you can join this Iknimaya?” your mother told everyone who asked about you an excuse for your absence. You realize that with you, they touch a lot and the ache grows for they caress you not because they want you as you want them. You smile bitterly.

“Yes, I want to do this,” you gently take their hands off of you, “Let’s talk again later, hm? My friends have been calling me.”

You send them a smile and return to your group of friends. You did not look back as you promised, despite the greed that claws you inside out. Your friends exclaim in surprise and joy at your presence. Some hug and some send a smile towards you.

But it’s okay, you think as you converse with them, this is a lesson you must learn and you would never dare to disappoint Eywa or everyone else again.

It wasn’t long until the ritual formally started and you find yourselves in the sea with water halfway up to your legs. The Olo’eyktan started his speech moments ago about the history and importance of your coming-of-age ritual, his gaze heavy with pride for all of you.

“Young hunters, it is time,” the Olo’eyktan says as he looks at each one of you, “It is time for you to become a true Na’vi. A true Metkayina.”

“Show us that you can handle the mighty and strong roars of the ocean by taming a Skimwing. Show us your worthiness by bonding with your spiritual brothers and sisters. Show us that you deserve the symbols inked into your skin.” He stomps and you all stomp. You all let out sounds of gruff and puffs with the tongues of the men out and the lips of the women pursed down.

Now, you watch as one by one, the names of the others are called out and they tame the Skimwing. You stare as Tonowari chooses the biggest one with the brightest orange spots that decorated its wings. You stare as he takes a quick glance at you and blinks while he turns away to look at Ronal. He sends her a reassuring smile and none for you. Your heart is silent as you watch him successfully tame his Skimwing and swim through the fast currents and return so proud and so imposing.

You stare as Ronal chooses the calmest one with calming green spots that adorn its wings. You stare as she looks at you with firm eyes that you could not read. She turns to Tonowari and nods at him. A part of you is scared that you do not know her well anymore and a part of you bleeds out at the confirmation that only Tonowari can truly see and understand her. Your heart fades away as you watch her gracefully soar and dance with the wind and return smoothly with such elegance.

Your turn has come and you look at the Skimwings that paid no mind to you. But there was one that looked back at you and swims slowly toward you. You let out a silent giggle to yourself. Would you let me see you? You hummed as you questioningly looked at it. It touches your hand with its head and makes you pat it as if saying, If you would let me.

You swing your leg over its body and sat on its back. You take your queue from behind and formed Tsaheylu with your Skimwing. The feeling momentarily blinds you before you become hyper-aware of the water that surrounds both of you, your weight on its back, and its feelings.

You both swim gently until the pace becomes faster. You both dive deep into the ocean and see the shoals of fish that swim past you, the sways of the underwater forests that glow so brightly, and the calmness of the water that leaves you breathless of its beauty.

You swim back to the surface and put your feet on its behind and crouch down, your grip hard on its tie. Your Skimwing jumps and unfolds its wings and you laugh breathlessly as you let the wind kiss your skin, its rustle cheering you on as you soar through the sky.

But it is time for you to return. As you come back, you immediately miss the ocean and the wind. After this, no more, you promised yourself, No more.

The bonding with the Tulkun soon followed after. Everyone went to the sides of their respective spiritual brother and sister and they all look so excited. Everyone was filled to the brim with joy but you, your nerves leave you trembling slightly.

Greetings, sister, you signed with a small smile hoping she would forgive you for only coming to see her today and not as soon as they arrived.

How dare you come at me only now? Is this what you see of me, just a way for you to complete your Iknimaya? Well, you are wrong! I will not bend over to your wishes so easily! she moaned in annoyance at you and sways you off gently.

You don’t think she could even bend but you just hugged her and buried your face against her beautiful skin that you would fawn at each time but you wouldn’t bring yourself to now. I’m sorry, sister. You don’t have to make Tsaheylu for me, I understand.

She pauses and was silent for a while.

…What pains you so, sister? Who dares to give you such pain? she hums at you, covering you with one of her fins and lets you hide. Tears escape your eyes and you sob silently underwater. Fear comes back and it overflows your lungs and shame burns your body hot despite the coolness of the water.

Lend me your suffering and let me suffer with you. Let me see you, sister. You look at her in shock and disbelief. Despite that you have wronged her, she still wants to see you.

She wants to see you. She wants to see your pain. She wants to see your fear. She wants to see your shame. Do you dare to let someone know of your sins? Your immoral thoughts and greed?

You look at your sister with only you in her eyes and she blinks softly at you.

You find yourself letting her see you.

She opens her mouth and you enter inside. Her queue comes down almost immediately and you almost laugh at how she truly wants to bond with you, even if it happened in an unfortunate circumstance you caused. You take your own and hold the end part of it, letting its tendrils connect to her glowing golden queue.

You close your eyes and your sisters’ memories rush through you. Her birth, her parents, her family, you see it. The joyous moments that contain you beside her, you see it. One particular moment was when you swam through the deep ocean and talked about the most mundane thing with her, lasting for even hours until you two have to breathe the surface’s air again. Her huntings as they travel outside your clan, you see it. Her first hunt without you and how she felt lonely without you by her side to congratulate you.

Now, you see her current emotions as she sees you. She’s distraught. Sad. In pain. But she is with you and your heart (or whatever is left of it) warms.

Oh, my sister, she whines and sobs. Her body vibrates and you feel yourself crying with you as well. My poor sister. You don’t deserve any of this. You don’t deserve this.

You think of the ocean and the wind once more, breaking your promise to yourself for the millionth time. The wind guides the ocean and wherever the ocean goes, the wind is there. The two cannot exist without the other for only together, they create the most beautiful peaceful calmness or the strongest violent storm.

Today, you have seen how great they are. And how well they suit each other. How Ronal’s grace matches Tonowari’s pride. How Tonowari’s imposing presence matches Ronal’s elegant strides.

Today, you have seen what great Olo’eyktan and Tsahik will become. You have seen how far they are out of your reach and what your place will be for the years that will come by.

For between the two, there leaves none for you.

series-taglist: (tags in blue means tumblr won't let me mention you, please let me know if you changed usernames!) @totesnothere04 @ducks118 @narutoboi @yeosxxx @fanboyluvr @ladylovegood-69 @northsoulss @thatfictionalwh0re @ghostlyworld @toodaloo432 @lovefromjazzy @greendino7 @neteyamforlife @vermilionzombie @vxncxntt @adaiasafira @tsuteysyawntu @mooniequeen @eywas-heir

#blue writes! ✧˖*°࿐#avatar #avatar angst #avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #ronal x you #ronal x reader #tonowari x reader #tonowari x you #atwow #atwow angst #avatar 2

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yourlocalmerchgirl · 5 months

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Is it ok if I call you mine? Part One

Part 2 Part 3

Soft!Joel Miller x Neurodivergent/ anxious F!reader

Summary: When Joel sees you having a hard time outside of a concert he tries to make sure your alright when he scares you on accident he can’t stop thinking about if your actually ok or not until a couple weeks later he runs into you. Both of you let down your guard and form a unlikely bond

Soft! Joel miller x neurodivergent reader AU (outbreak never happens)

Warnings: soft Joel, concerned Joel, protective Joel, neurodivergent, audio overstimulation, anxiety, self inflicted angst. Best friend Tommy, falling in love. Acceptance, low self esteem.

A/N: I’m so nervous to start posting this story. This story is very near and dear to me and I’ve been pouring my heart into this story, I hope you all like going on this journey with me. This will be a multi part story.

There’s not a lot of descriptors about reader other than eye color but they can easily be changed.

You didn’t want to be this way- in fact you hated it at times if you’re honest with yourself. Sometimes you could see it coming. Other times, one minute you were fine the next your brain felt like it was drowning out at sea while your body looked for it in a flimsy life raft.

You just wanted to enjoy your night out with your best friend seeing your favorite band, you had felt really good today.

As you sat there waiting for the show to start the chatter of the group sitting behind you became more intense and you started zoning out, trying to focus on anything but as their chatter turned into them shouting back and forth over each other, it became to much. Everything sounding jumbled, you felt lightheaded as if your head was swimming, the overwhelming anxious feeling taking over your body.

“I-I ne-need get out of here and get some air” you shouted abruptly standing, grabbing your seat to steady yourself as the dizzys worsened.

“Do you need me to go with you?” Stacey asked concerned, she knew all to well how awful things could get for you sometimes.

“No…no I’ll be ok, I just need to breathe, need some air. I’ll text you if I need you”

Once outside you slid down, sitting on the sidewalk under the awning of the venue, the small round lights that lined the bottom of the awning offering just enough light in the night sky. You sat with your back against the building, your knees pulled up to your chest as you felt the cold fall air fill you lungs, easing the weight on your chest slightly. God the air felt good on your over heated face.

“Y’alright miss?” You hear an unfamiliar muffled voice. There’s other people around surly he’s talking to someone else.

“Miss y’alright?” You hear the soft husky drawl. You try to ignore it. Please be talking to someone else.

“Darlin’ y’alright” you hear with a light hand on your shoulder. Fuck. Your head snaps up, eyes wide as your gaze locks with a pair of big brown eyes. Flinching away from him you snarl “dude I’m fine”

“Sorry didn’t mean to startle ya, was just concerned.”

You don’t say anything back, you barely even acknowledge him.

“I-I’m Joel” He offers with a kind smile

“Look Joel I’m sure you’re nice and all but I clearly am having a rough go and don’t want to be bothered” you snapped back standing quickly and hurrying back inside the venue.

“Sorry Darlin” he softly called after you.

“What was that about?” Tommy asks Joel, only witnessing the tail end of what was happening.

Joel lets out a defeated sigh “There was this girl curled up sitting on the ground, clearly going through something, I asked her if she was a’lright. I think I scared her when I touched her shoulder, she got up angry and ran inside.”

Once inside you run into the bathroom rubbing cold water on your face, you feel a rush of instant guilt. You hated the way you came off to people sometimes, your tone coming off harsh and aggressive, often not matching how you were feeling. People would often tell you you needed to control your emotions or regulate your tone but you truly couldn’t control it, it’s just how you were. You weren’t good with people, you didn’t like small talk never really knowing how to engage in it, you often either shared to much to fast or you’d say nothing at all, mostly just observing people, just being in the background of most situations and that was when you were invited to gatherings which wasn’t very often.

“There was this guy outside tonight”

“Ok…”

“He was trying to check on me, to make sure I was alright and I snapped at him, I was actually pretty rude to him”

“I feel so bad” you said with a deep sigh.

“Don’t let it bother you, I’m sure he didn’t think much of it” Stacey said trying to ease your mind.

“Joel…he said his name was Joel.”

————————————————————

“Shit…I-I think that’s the guy from the other night” you say looking up from your sandwich.

Stacey whips around “Who Joel? The guy from outside the show? Which one is he?”

“The one with the scruffy beard, and messy hair standing with the guy with the dark curly hair at the counter, I think he was there too.”

“He’s handsome, you didn’t tell me he was so handsome”

“Well I didn’t realize it either, I was to busy being a bitch to notice” you say nervous laughing.

“I’m sure he won’t remember me, but I still feel so guilty”

You have no idea yet how wrong you are.

Joel notices you instantly as him and Tommy are looking for a table.

The feeling of relief washing over him seeing that your ok. He hadn’t stopped wondering, no he hadn’t stopped worrying if you were ok.

Tommy noticed Joel acting nervously, continuously looking over Tommy’s shoulder at something or someone.

“Y’alright man? Y’acting weird, w’do you keep looking at?”

“It’s the girl, the one from the other night at the show”

Tommy turns to see you and Stacey recognizing you from the other night.

“I’ve seen her friend here before, think she’s seeing the guy that runs the place”

“But the girl, she looks like she’s alright” Tommy says softly, turning to see Joel’s smile at his comment.

“And I know you been worryin’”

“Huh? It that obvious?”

“I’m your brother I know things, also ya keep mentioning it, why don’t ya go talk to her?”

“M’pretty sure I scared the shit outta her, she ain’t want me talkin’ to her.”

“I-I should apologize to him”

“So let’s go talk to them”

“Ugh your not supposed to agree” you laugh.

“You keep talking about feeling bad, and I know you, you’ll just keep thinking about it, if it would make you feel better let’s go talk to him”

Stacey’s surprised when you get up from the table slowly and nervously start walking over and she follows behind.

“Ah shit, there…she’s coming over here I think” Joel says nervously

“I-I’m sorry this is kind of random but are…are you Joel?” You ask as you nervously fiddle with the hem of your shirt, unable to maintain eye contact.

“Yes ma’am”

Tommy watch’s your body language intently, understanding more about you than you even realize or notice.

“I ah, you probably don’t remember me”

“Course I do”

“You do?” You ask completely shocked

“Why wouldn’t I? You were outside of the State theater, was worried about you”

“A-bout that, I’m so sorry for snapping and being so rude to you. I know you were just trying to make sure I was alright. I was just having a rough go and I’m just um not very good with people sometimes an-d my tone doesn’t um ugh it doesn’t matter….I just wanted to apologize.” You said, getting more nervous and flustered the more you talked. Damnit why am I like this? Why the hell is he gonna care about my problems just stop talking.

But it did matter, it mattered to him. He wanted you to go on, to hear about what was bothering you. He wanted to be able to ease your mind, to make you feel better.

Tommy noticed your body language, how anxious you were, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt while looking at the ground. He knew this feeling all to well, anxiety hadn’t been his friend since he’d came back from the army and seeing Joel go through it when he lost Sarah he just wanted to make you feel comfortable.

“Well since my brothers not going to introduce us, I’m Tommy. What’s your name darlin’?” Tommy says holding out his hand to shake.

“ shit..sorry I’m (y/n) and this is Stacey.”

You turn to Joel, your hand out stretched.

“It’s nice to meet you properly Joel” you say offering him the warmest smile. You just had this feeling about them, about him in particular that you couldn’t describe.

Joel is surprised but moved by your action, taking your hand offering you the kindest smile back. He takes this opportunity to study every part of your face, as if he was committing it to memory.

“Y’all have fun at the show?” Joel asks

“Oh were you guys there for the show too?” You ask, your face turning the lightest shade of red.

“ well, I dragged him there” Tommy says gesturing to Joel chuckling

“But yea we were there”

“Yeah… umm other than my episode we had a blast…they’re my favorite band”

“Hey! No way they’re mine too” Tommy exclaims “my first time seeing them”

“I’ve seen them 3 times, they’ve been great every time” you exclaim.

Joel watches as your body language relaxes a little bit. He takes pride in him and Tommy being able to ease you even if just for a moment.

“Y’guys want join us?”

You’re immediately flustered by the question, feeling like you’ve lingered too long making them feel like they had to ask.

“Oh no that’s ok, I don’t want to bother you guys, you’re clearly on your lunch break.” Your eyes trained on your shoes, pulling at your shirt. Fuck you hated being like this- an awkward overthinking mess as people would tell you.

Pulling your gaze back up to Joel with a nervous smile on your face.

“I just wanted to apologize, sorry to bother you guys”

Before either of them could say anything you turn on you heels and hurried out the door.

“Wait (y/n)” Joel calls after you calmly, not waiting to scare you.

As you and Stacey turn around you see Joel smiling at you as Tommy comes out of the cafe behind him.

“Here I ah wanted to give your our numbers” Joel says rubbing the back of his neck.

You reach out taking the piece of paper.

“No pressure just if you ever wanted t’talk”

“I’m not a fan of talking on the phone, makes me anxious but I-I’ll text you sometime if that’d be ok?”

“Yea, that’d be more than ok darlin’”

Joel wasn’t much of a texter but he’d do anything you’d be comfortable with if it meant he’d get to talk to you again.

Y/n: Hey! It’s y/n I saw our favorite band is coming back in a couple months and playing in Dallas!

As soon as you sent the text to Tommy you regret it. What if it came on to strong? what if he thinks I’m asking him to go? Who am I even to think he wants to talk to me?

Your thoughts only spiraled like water going down the drain the more that time passed with out hearing from him.

Tommy: Hey sweetheart! Sorry for the late response, we had a crazy day at work today.

Tommy: shit no way, we should all go, I’ll talk to Joel about it and snag tickets for everyone.

“ oh shit y/n texted me saying the bands coming back in a couple months, playin’ Dallas. We should all go, have a road trip down there.”

“Oh…s’he texted you?”

“Oh shit sorry have ya not heard from her?”

“No, no it’s ok. I’ll go though if she wants to go”

“I’m sure you’ll hear from her Joel, she only texted me about the show”

Joel’s just relaxing or trying to relax, because let’s face it he’s never been very good at just taking a breath and resting without trying to do a 100 other things at once.

He hears his phone vibrate on the night stand, caught off guard by the butterflies he feels before reaching for his phone. He thinks it must be you, Tommy’s downstairs the only other person that would text him.

His smile reaches his eyes before he can even think about stoping it when he sees it is infect you.

Y/A: Hey! It’s y/n. I’m sure Tommy told you I messaged him. Hopefully you don’t think I didn’t want to talk to you, was honestly working up the courage to message you.

Fuck…what the hell am I doing?! Did I just say that.

Y/N: Jesus…I’m so sorry that was awkward haha

God. You were so cute. Joel just found you so endearing as he finds himself completely taken by you.

Joel: Hey darlin. No worries at all. Im happy to hear from ya.

Joel: how’s your night goin? Hopefully it’s treating you well.

Y/N: it’s going good, I’m just curled up in bed watching one of my comfort shows.

You and Joel went back and forth for a couple hours, chatting and unknowingly making each other light up and feel comfortable with each other.

Joel: I don’t want to put any pressure on you so don’t feel like ya have too…but would you want to grab a coffee together tomorrow? That is if ya don’t already have plans.

You’re torn, on one hand you’re overjoyed that he asked you out to coffee and on the other hand you can’t help but feel like he feels like he has too, that you might of come on too strong. But here goes nothing…

Y/N: Sure, that would be really nice. I’d like that.

You hit send before you can think about it too much.

Y/N: if it’s ok could we go later in the day after lunch? It’s less hectic and pretty quiet around then.

Joel doesn’t give why you asked to meet then much thought, because the reason didn’t matter. He wanted to do what ever you were comfortable with and if that’s when you were comfortable going then that’s what he’d do.

Joel: Sure that sounds good to me darlin. I’ll meet you there.

—————————————————————

As you make your walk over to the cafe you can’t help but wonder if this is a joke, if Joel actually wants to hang out? If he asked because he felt like he had too.

You wish you didn’t have to say you used to it but you are. You’re used to people just putting up with you, inviting you some where because they feel obligated too, only hearing from them when they want something from you. The amount of times you misjudged a friendship or relationship was staggering. You had no idea how wrong you were.

The longer Joel sits at the cafe, the more nervous he becomes. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this early or nervous for anything in his life, not even the day Sarah was born. Part of him is worried you won’t come, that he made you feel like you had to say yes. The other part of him is over joyed at the idea that you wanted to come, that you might actually want to spend time with him.

Joel hears the baristas greet someone excitedly. When he hears the voice that greets them back he knows it’s you, your voice already burned into him memory. Your tone is bubbly and happy today, he can hear the smile in you’re voice before he even sees you. When you finally come into view, his heart melts when he sees your smile, your big beautiful smile.

You glance over meeting his gaze, giving him a little wavy and smile as you make you way over to him.

I can’t believe he’s here already and here I was worried about being to early.

Joel hopes you don’t notice the way he wipes his sweaty palms on his pants as he stands to greet you.

“Hey sweetheart good t’see ya”

“You..you actually came. It’s so good to see you too” you say offering him the same smile you walked in with.

“Is it alright t’give ya a hug?”

“Yes of course” you said after hesitating briefly.

Joel wraps you into the most comforting hug you’ve ever had. Coming from someone who doesn’t like to be touched or have people in their personal space abruptly. But there was something different about Joel, something comforting and natural that you couldn’t quiet out your finger on.

Joel pulls away when it sinks in what you said.

“Wait…why wouldn’t I show up?”

You feel embarrassed that you said it out loud, but you also wanted to be honest with him.

“It just wouldn’t be the first time I misjudged someone inviting me somewhere or the first time someone forgot that we had plans.”

“I’m just a lot for most people and it’s ok, I’m used to it”

“You shouldn’t h’ave to be used to that sweetheart but quiet frankly I think your awesome, to awesome to be wantin’ to hang out with me so I thought you might not come.”

You and Joel sit and talk for a couple of hours at the cafe. You talk to him about some of your disorders related to being neurodivergent and about your life before coming to Texas. Joel listens intently, letting you talk freely without interruptions or judgements and doesn’t press for more info than you’re comfortable telling him. The only questions he ask are about things he can do to you help when things get bad or how he could offer support if you needed it. Almost as if he’s saying he wants to spend more time with you with saying it.

Joel tells you more about himself, the contractor business that him and Tommy run and about Sarah, his daughter who he lost a few years ago. Joel is surprised how intently you listen to him, how he has your undivided attention. He’s never had anyone other than Tommy listen to him in that way, free of judgement and full of compassion. Never pressing him to share more than he was comfortable with.

“Hey I-I I don’t if you and Stacey have plans tonight but Tommy and I are gonna have a movie night and get some pizza if you guys would like to come.”

“Oh I think Stacey and Jared are having a date night tonight”

“Well you’re still welcome, we’d love to have you”

“Don’t feel like you have to invite me, I wouldn’t want to impose on your night.”

“Not at all, you could never impose. I’m having a nice time with you and honestly would love to spend more time with you. I know Tommy would love to have you too.”

Joel senses your hesitation, but not because you don’t feel comfortable it’s because your worried you will be in the way, like you’d be intruding where you weren’t wanted.

“As long as it’s ok I would love too, honestly I’d like to spend more time with you too” you say offering a warm smile.

Joel’s hand ghosts over your lower back as you guys leave the cafe. Normally you’d be put off by this or flinch away but something about Joel was immediately comforting.

“Oh I walked here so I just need to go grab my car, we live around the corner”

“If you’re comfortable with it I could drive us and bring you home later.”

“Ok” you say smiling warmly, letting him know your comfortable with that.

“Let me just text Stacey so she’s not freaked out when my cars there but I’m not.” You say as you guys walk to his truck, his hand still lightly on your lower back as you walk.

“ here let me see your phone” he says leaning against his truck.

“I typed my address into your message for her to have, that way you can feel safe knowing she’s knows exactly where you are.” He says handing you back your phone.

His gesture speaks volumes to you, it’s almost as if he can read your mind.

“Thank you….I’ve honestly never had anyone do something like that for me before.”

“Here let me see your phone, I’ll give you her number incase you ever need to get ahold of her.”

“Was gonna ask but I didn’t want you to think I was being weird”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you make your away across town to Joel’s house, truly just enjoying each others company.

When you guys arrive at Joel’s he gets out and runs over to the passenger door opening it for you.

“Tommy! We have company for movie night tonight” Joel calls out as you enter the house.

Joel barely gets the words out before you hear Tommy’s foots steps padding down the hall.

“Hey there sweetheart! Happy to have ya here” Tommy exclaims as he pulls you into a hug, huge smile across is face.

“Now my brothers not given you any trouble is he?” Tommy asks jokingly making the cutest laugh bubble out of you. The sound of it warms Joel’s soul, he’d do anything in his power to hear it again.

Joel sighs “Really Tommy?”

“What? I’m just joking around” he smirks

“No, he’s not, not yet anyways” you chuckle smiling at Joel.

“Here darlin’ come look at the menu, gotta know what you like before we order”

“Oh I’m easy to get a long with. I like cheese, but honestly I’ll be happy with what you guys get, you don’t have to order special stuff for me”

“Nonsense gotta make sure you’re happy too” Joel smiles

Tommy comes back from the other room “alright I placed the order but I ordered a shit ton of food, like probably too much” he says chuckling.

“But I w’anted t’make sure everyone had somethin’ they liked.”

“I can go with you to pick it up, to help you grab it all if you’d like” you offer with a nervous smile. Trying your hardest to be helpful and figure out your place in this dynamic.

You don’t see it but Joel smiles at your gesture, loving your caring nature.

“Sure I’d love that sweetheart, plus I can give you pointers on how to annoy the shit outta my brother”

You catch a glimpse of Joel rolling his eyes.

“O-only if that’s ok with you?” You say nervously.

“Oh darlin’ of course, I wasn’t rolling’ my eyes at you” he says lightly resting his hand on your lower back.

Joel’s eyes are comically large when you and Tommy get back to the house, both with arm fulls of food.

“Jesus you guys leave any food for the rest of the city?”

That laugh Joel loves so much bubbles up out of you again, his heart beating faster the minute he hears it.

“Uh don’t look at me he’s the one that ordered the food” you say pointing at Tommy.

“Don’t look at me, the sweets we’re all her idea” Tommy says as Joel takes the bakery stuff out of the bag.

“I mean the least I could do was buy us desert” you shrug

Joel glanced up at you as he pulls out a second box from the bakery”

“But I-ah might of gotten a little carried away” you laugh at the sheer amount of stuff spread out over the counter.

The three of you all fill up plates with various items and sit down to bond over dinner.

You learn that Tommy is staying with Joel while he works on remolding the house he bought on that weekends.

You all grab your drinks and head to the living room.

“Make your self at home and sit where ever you’d like darlin’” Joel says as he plops down on the couch.

“Do you guys normally have particular places you sit. I-I don’t want to take anyone’s spot”

To Joel you’re so cute and considerate in this moment.

“Nah not really, sit where ever you’re comfortable”

You think for a moment about what do to before you sit next to Joel on the couch.

“I-I it ok to sit here? If you want more space I can sit on the other end.”

“Absolutely it’s ok sweetheart” Joel says with the kindest smile as his big brown eyes meet yours.

“Was hoping you’d feel comfortable sittin’ next to me”

Tommy follows a few beats behind the two of you juggling the bakery treats and his beer before snagging what he wanted and plopped down in the recliner next to the couch.

You and Joel bump hands reaching for the same treat, an over sized chocolate chip cookie loaded with big chocolate chunks.

A nervous giggle escapes you. “ where you going for the giant cookie too?”

“I’ts ok go ahead”

“Oh no it’s ok”

“Really darlin’ I insist”

You grab the cookie breaking it in half.

“Here I’ll split it with you” you say holding out half of it to him.

“Sweetheart you don’t have to do that”

“Really it’s ok, if I didn’t like you I wouldn’t share” you say nervous chuckling.

Fuck. I can’t believe I just told him I liked him. Way to be weird.

Taking the half and laughing Joel retorts “ It’s ok, if I didn’t like you I wouldn’t have taken it” as he nudges you with his shoulder.

Joel glances over at you part way through the third movie to see you curled up and passed out on the couch next to him. You look so peaceful and comfortable in this moment that he can’t help but smile fondly at you as he pulls a blanket from the back of the couch over you.

Tommy catches a glimpse of Joel tending to you and he can’t help but smile. It’s been a long time since he’s seen his brother like this, seen this happiness in his eyes and a genuine laugh come out of him. Joel’s been a different person since Sarah passed away, more guarded and closed off. But he sees a small change in him since he met you. He can see Joel starting to peek his head out of the gate to the fortress he’s built around himself with you around.

Joel: Hey. It’s Joel y/n gave me your number incase I ever needed to get ahold of you. Just wanted to let you know she fell asleep during movie night on the couch. I covered up and left a water on the coffee table for her. Just didn’t want you to worry if she didn’t turn up tonight. I’m gonna leave her a note next to her phone on the coffee table so she’s not scared when she wakes up.

Stacey: Thank you for texting me Joel. Because I would have been worried if she just didn’t show up. Thank you for taking care of her. Please never hesitate to reach out if you need me.

Joel: Have a good night sweetheart

Stacey: oh Joel one more thing

Stacey: she doesn’t trust people easily. She also doesn’t just fall asleep just anywhere like this….actually she has a hard time sleeping in general. This means she’s comfortable with/ trusts you. Please don’t take this for granted.

——————————————————————

You wake up to the smell of coffee and the sound of hushed chatter.

“ Jesus Tommy, be quiet your gonna wake her up”

As your sitting up slowly from the unfamiliar couch it hits you. Fuck, you fell asleep at Joel’s.

You notice a note next to your phone

“Don’t be scared, nothing happened. You just fell asleep during the movie so I covered you up and left you be. I’ll make you breakfast in the morning

-Joel

You only have a few moments to enjoy the thought of Joel caring for you before the embarrassment comes crashing down.

You fell asleep on a date, who does that!

And further more there’s actually no way this is a date. Why would this man want to date you?

You get up shoving the note in your pocket, gather your things and slowly and quietly make your way to the kitchen.

Tommy notices you standing awkwardly in the door way when he looks up for pouring his coffee.

“Oh would ya look at who woke up, mornin sweetheart” he says offering you a sweet smile.

Joel turns around from his place at the stove, eyes lighting up when he sees you.

“Morning darlin’ would you like some breakfast or coffee? I just s’tarted cookin’”

“N-no…I should go, it’s ok. Um Tommy c-could you give me a ride home?” You manage to squeak out, your voice sounding almost strained as you fight to hold back the tears trying to breach the dam.

You look away, unable to take the disappointment in Joel’s big brown eyes.

It was only a matter of time before he figured out you were a disappointment anyways.

“Oh um ‘course I can sweetheart no problem. Go ahead, I’ll be right out”

Joel just looks at home, eyes filled with defeat.

“It’s ok brother, I’ll talk to her. I can tell she’s feelin a bit anxious”

“I-I feel so bad, I hope she’s not embarrassed. I was happy to have her here, but I know it’s jarring waking up in someone else’s house”

Tommy finds you sitting in his truck, hunched over with your head on your hands and a small piece of paper in your lap.

“What’s that in your lap?” Tommy asked

You don’t even look up as you had him the small note. Tommy noticed the small wet stains in the note as he takes it from you.

A few beats of silence pass. “ oh sweetheart you y’dont have t’cry, this note is truthful”

“It’s not even that”

“I just want to go home”

“No problem sweetheart…just know you can talk to me bout anything anytime. Joel too.”

The ride across town back to your place is silent, your head rested on the window, blankly staring out. You’re mind feels like a hurricane swirling around, thinking of every situation that could happen from you falling a sleeping, thinking of everything you could of said, should of said. You’re zoned out so much you don’t notice that Tommy has pulled into your drive way. When you stay still and don’t get out Tommy breaks the silence.

“Y’alright sweetheart? Y’want to talk about anything? I’ll sit here all day if I need too.” He says, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You’re silent for a few more beats.

“I really fucked things up. Who falls asleep on a date? And before you say anything, no I don’t really think we were on a date because someone like your brother doesn’t want to date me. I’m just so fucking embarrassed. I might as well just prepare myself now for the fact that I likely won’t see either one of you much after this, before I get attached and think you guys want me around because I have a habit of misreading situations and peoples intentions.” You manage to choke out before the tears start flowing.

You go to open the door but Tommy stops you.

“Aww sweetheart hold on a minute. Breaks my heart seeing you like this and I know it would break Joel’s too.”

“It’s ok, Tommy… I know I’m not for everyone. My disorders drive most people away, I’m pretty used to it at this point in my life.”

“ I understand more than you might think… when I came back from the military, I was much different than when I went in. I have PTSD, my anxiety and depression were at an all time high, I can’t do most loud booming noises and the weirdest things trigger me and I spiral into a flash back. The one person who’s been there for me through it all and never once left my side or complained is Joel. Even when he was going through the most horrific moment of his life when he lost Sarah, he never once wavered in his support when I needed it. Long story short, he’s not put off by you or by you falling asleep or by any of your issues. He thinks your awesome, and so do I. Neither of us are messing with you. And I don’t want to speak for him but I’m pretty sure he was hoping last night was a date” Tommy says nudging you playfully at the last part.

“But seriously sweetheart if you ever need to talk. I’m here for you.”

“Thank you Tommy, truly. That means the world to me. I know I really should be kinder to myself but I’m just used to people being around when they want something or it’s convenient for them.”

“Do you wanna come back to the house with me?”

“I do but will it be weird? Will Joel want me to come back?”

“Sweetheart I’m pretty sure he’d let you stay as long as you were comfortable, but I can text him”

“Ok… I’d like to run inside and get changed if that’s ok?”

“I’ll wait as long as you need”

——————————————————-

Tommy: y/n and I talked for a while, she’s alright. She’s just embarrassed and having some trouble but she’s not freaked out by you at all.

Joel: I feel so bad she feels that way. But I’m glad I didn’t freak her out. She’s such a sweetheart.

Tommy: I offered to bring her back to the house to see you and she seems to want to, she’s just concerned you wouldn’t want her to. She’s just inside changing her clothes, I said I’d text you and give you a heads up.

Joel: if she wants to come back with you please bring her back. I want to see her.

Tommy: don’t tell her I told you but she called last night a date than took it back because she got scared calling it that but I told her you were hoping it was a date so do with that what you’d like.

————————————————————-

Stacey is standing right inside the door peeking out the window, which jumps you as you swing the door open.

“Why’d he bring you home? I though you were going to be hanging out with the other one?”

“Oh…Tommy lives with Joel”

“Wait…are you ok? Have you been crying?” Stacey says concerned as she reaches out grabbing your arm.

“Yea ugh I’m alright, I fell asleep last night during movie night and woke up and was really embarrassed and asked Tommy if he could give me a ride home because I just couldn’t face Joel.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t text you, sorry if I worried you”

“Well I would of been really worried but Joel actually texted me, to let me know you were alright and that you had fallen asleep”

“Wait… he did?”

“He was worried that I’d be worried if you didn’t come home. The dude seems like a stand up guy”

“Wait so why is Tommy still here?”

“Well I had a break down on the way here and him and I had a good talk, he asked if I wanted yo go back to the house with him so I’m going up go back over there and talk to Joel. I just wanted to change.”

—————————————————————-

“Y’know it’s been along time since I’ve seen Joel light up t’way he does when he sees you. Losing Sarah really took a lot outta him, but I see his old self startin’ to come out when he’s around you.”

Tommy says turning to you at the red light.

Tommy sees you smile from the corner of his eye as the light turns green again.

“I-I honestly don’t know what to say to that.. and not in a bad way. I guess I’m just surprised. But honestly there’s just something about your brother, something that I can’t really explain. Sigh. Like I just knew right away that I could trust him, I mean I knew right away I could trust you too. But there’s just something about him that’s calming like I’m relaxed and at ease when I’m around him almost as if he sees me, like really sees me for who I am.”

When you and Tommy pull into the drive way Joel comes right out on to the porch, you can’t help the huge smile that tugs at your lips when you see him. You light up when your close enough for him to see you smiling and offered you a cute wave as Tommy puts the truck in park. Joel comes right down the steps and opens the truck door for you.

“H-hey sweetheart…m’happy you came back”

“Well I’m happy you wanted me to come back”

You barely get the words out of your mouth before Joel’s wrapping you in a tight embrace, you don’t hold back hugging him back just as tightly. It’s hard to tell who needed the hug more, you or him.

“Y’know y’can talk to me bout anything, whatever’s going on at any moment. I’ll never judge you. I want to be there for you.” Joel says just loud enough for you to hear, even though Tommy had already gone inside.

“I know, and I want you to know I do trust you. I just get really in my head sometimes because I’ve thought of every way a situation could go wrong instead of seeing the good, sometimes all I can focus on are the what ifs.”

“I’ll be as patient as you need sweetheart, never feel pressured and if there’s something your more comfortable talking to Tommy about in the moment I know he’d be there for you too.”

All you can do is tilt your head up, your glossy hazel eyes meeting his big brown one. It’s almost as if time stops in this moment. Joel wants to kiss you, my god does he want to kiss you and never let you go. He wants to wash away all your fear and anxiety. To hold you and give you the world.

Tag list:

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@fandomwhored @hiddenbabynyc l

@goldenhxurs

#tommy miller #fanfic #the last of us #tommy miller x reader #joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #soft!joel miller #neurodivergent #joel miller x f!reader

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dancerofsong · 2 months

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Regret

I feel so disgusting. so pathetic I could ever exist in humanity. Sometimes I think of how people could even view me as human if they ever saw my mind. If the family I was thrown into opened up my head, they would die from the disgusting horrors building inside, fantasies I wish to have to expel what monster was born. I can feel my horns on the inside, my 8-foot tongue, and my devilish features built into the girl. The weird girl with friends who wishes she left—the girl we all kind of hate but don't talk about enough to really care. I sometimes feel like the unused gym membership of people, so disgustingly annoying to be hurtful yet not enough for people to take the effort to stop talking to me. I feel worse with others than alone. When my mind takes over, I stop being a person and say what I want for attention, and to even think I could be human is funny.

Human? Humans have emotions; they can care. It's obvious that I must not care for anyone in this world. You see, if I did, I wouldn't be here; I would be at a party and would be having fun, not alone in my kitchen. I'm typing a pity-party letter to myself like I'm insane. I think I'm kind of insane—just enough to be this pathetic but not enough to get sent away. The idea of board school is intriguing; it sent me away, trash off to another state. To be abused and disemboweled as I speak out of turn, to cut my toes off every time my voice is slightly louder than necessary. Yet among the worst, I can be a trouble. My voice is a work of nightmares; my smile reeks of evil; and my eyes are sinister.

I AM A MONSTER

the type you find in circus cages. 2 sizes too small. To be pitied and laughed at, throw your popcorn as I walk the tightrope of shame. A show made for humans, The Human Race, was designed to laugh at such vomit-inducing animals. The human race was designed to laugh at me. To wish to be loved, to wish I could function, I wonder what such a gift would be like. I talk with a never-ending mouth of dark secrets that are too unbearable to hold. So I dream.

Dreams

Dreams take me to places I have never seen, like boyfriends, friend groups, and love. Love drives the world either through desire, lust, or happiness. The absence of love kills sadness and grief. But can you be sad if you never had love to begin with? To feel empty among the empty, to be alone among the alone. To function as an empty vessel, mimicking the voices of others, combined to become a fake. The puppet wanders around. Have you ever seen a human with no heart, brain, lungs, or blood? I feel no emotion other than pain and a desire for more. Which is why I dream of abuse and the thrilling pain of abuse. Physical, mental, verbal, social, and financial. Power held over my head as I played with my puppet strings. I don't want to be slapped, and I don't want to be punched. I want to be degraded and have blood spill. I want to watch Bruises every day. I desire to see my juices fill the floor on the white tiles as spit hits my forehead and my vision gets blurry. I wish to be the wife; they all have pity for marrying the wife beater. I wish to be the reason the 6:00 a.m. calls from the police are made. I wish to be made into a pet. yet to never leave, knowing if I did I would be empty again. If I'm not abused, I speak the devil's tongue of torment. Ruining my life gives me guilt. I can't hold any more; my shoulders hurt. Words flow so easily out of me that I can't force them down too much, or else they leave my mouth. I need a strong man to punch me so hard that my jaw is out of place. My teeth need to fall out, and my tongue should be cut out and burned to death. I want to be forced to never communicate and let my words burn deep inside to the point where I couldn't even talk if I tried. The words I would say would be mumbles left to rot as my friends learn to work into their lives. and I act like a man would love me…

The heart

The organ that beats blood and oxygen around my body is the organ I wish to fail as fast as possible. I hope one day I either die or gain an emotional heart. The one we all have but don't. The one organ we separate from the brain beats and dances. She leaves her flowers for all to expect from me when I want them. If she visits, she gives me her rejection bouquet. The flowers that expired and consumed nothing but space. She reminds me that I'm disgusting by providing a smudged mirror… Till one day she leaves a flower, an alive one. He was born of the skies, gifted by God. He felt pity for all the dead flowers I had received. He had beauty and grace; he was a true man. I worshipped him; he gained a vase of water of purest property; she finally danced for me; every time I fed my plant or even smiled, she swayed and danced to the tunes of my eyes. I don't deserve such a flower; he was made to be watched at all hours of his life. God, I wish he was here to see all the works of art I have, all 294 in my gallery. He wasn't made for trash like me, the pathetic women of the world. The ones who live in pathetic filth and make due with pennies for funds and dollar-based appetites. He wants a pretty girl with skinny legs and long hair. The types of girls who do themselves pretty and think of their looks before their grades yet somehow end with perfect, As in every class. She who danced yet fought, she who was pretty and smart, she who was skinny and curved, she who smiled with humanity, She is a sex symbol; she is an American bombshell; she is perfect inside and out; she is someone who could be subservient to a man yet work if needed. She of dreams, she of realities unknown; she is who he deserves, yet she is not me. I can't dance nor fight, I speak loudly and it can irritate, I was not pretty nor was I smart, I'm not skinny yet my curves are incorrect, I smiled from fear and anxiety, I of average, I of ignored, I of "who is she?" I of "Ugh, I hate her." I of "Can you believe she did…!" I of insect, I of bug, and I of animal. I desire a good beating, not just two fingers; I want the entire hand, not just one soft item; break your bottles on my head; watch me bleed for men who hear my name and say who? Watch me suffer for boys who think of me once or twice. In their lifetime, to watch my flower, I would give my left lung; to hear him say my name, I would donate my arm and my kidney; to have him even talk to me, I would give up ownership of my rights and become property. The sacrifices I would make to be loved are horrifying.

#depressing shit #i wanna kms #kms #tw depressing stuff #tw depressing thoughts #tw vent #vent #vent tw #tw negative

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thegirlwhotalksaboutherlife · 1 year

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Hello, Its been awhile I havent updated my blog. How is life anyway? Life has been…tough and fun at the same time. It has its ups and downs which I dont mind about it. I do have those days where I could cry til I get better. But there are days I feel happy. The thing is crying isnt helping anymore but thats okay. That is all I can do. Something about me is missing… and I just cant find the missing puzzle piece to make my heart feel better. Please Guide me to the right Path My Lord (Aaminn). Im trying my best to heal myself and make myself happy again but i couldn’t at the moment. I feel sad most of the time and sometimes i dont feel sad at all. I dont understand like what do I want? I honestly dont know what I want. My past especially my situation, I cant handle it. Its too much for me to handle it. Sometimes, I feel like Im drowning with sorrows of my past, it keeps crawling back to my life. The feeling guilt is still there. How do I get over this feeling? I am tired… I am tired of thinking especially of my past. I fucking hate it as if I am fuckinh drowning with my past. How the fuck am I supposed to heal and not feeling broken??? Fuck I am trying to live my life. I honestly do want to move on. Who doesnt? I do not love him anymore but I do miss his presence but i dont miss him. This fucking hurts guys. How do I recover myself? I miss the old me. I really am. Sometimes, I broke down into tears that I miss myself. The old me. The old me when I was young, Early 20’s. Fuck this song is so deep and it fucking hurts alot. Why the fuck did I meet this guy. Tinder is not a good app. Fuck me, how am I supposed to be happy again? I just want to be happy. My thoughts filled with sadness and negativity. I just want my positive thoughts back. It makes me really fucking hate myself. I fucking hate myself. I do hate myself. And no, I do not hate myself becus of insecurities. I hate myself becus of what I did, I couldnt believe what I did to someone. I never thought of myself for wrecking someone’s life. It makes me sad to think about it. I keep praying and praying…non stop praying, asking for forgiveness, asking for guiding me to the right path, asking for me to fall inlove again with the right person. I want us both to fall inlove with what Allah SWT shows us. Like how beautiful life is, how beautiful islam is. Islam is a beautiful religion, ever since the incident happened. I’ve been doing alot of research about Islam. How Allah SWT created us. How He showed us to fall inlove with Islam and how He showed us to fall for the right person. I just hope I get to see His Home which is Mecca. The most beautiful place I have ever since on the Internet. I just want to go there and cry my lungs out and fix me esp my broken heart. I just want to ease my mind and heart. That is all I want. I am tired of being broken. I am tired of being sad. I am not going to be sad for the rest of my life and no I do not do self-harm. That is not me, I have to be strong. I know I am a strong person infront of everyone but deep down inside me, I am not as strong as u can see. I cried alot. Once I am getting older, I feel hopeless and I cried alot. I just want to be young again… but I cant turn back the time. I have to move on and live myself. As what Fergie said “Big girls dont cry” haha BIG GIRLS DO CRY ALOT. But that is okay, I mean it is okay to cry. That is the only way for u to feel better. All I want is to ease my heart and mind. That is all I want. Ok that is enough. I wish I could show this blog to anyone but that is okay.

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tteokdoroki · 3 years

Text

awake with you | s.todoroki

♡ pairing: shoto todoroki x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 1.7K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: ua student!au, angst, comfort, fluff.

♡ summary: during the night, bad things happen but your boyfriend is always there to keep them away. by your side always, shoto todorki makes it his mission to fight your demons and make sure you know that you’re loved.

♡ warning(s): please read ! character death, mentions of car accidents, nightmares, guilt, lack of sleep, but a lot of fluff and the best boyfriend in the whole world :(

♡ author’s note(s): guys! it’s shoto’s birthday, so here i am postiing this shoto request from anon a while back, i hope you all enoy and have celebrating the beautiful boy’s bday <3

♡ masterlist | requests

it was hard for you to sleep.

harder, when shoto wasn’t around.

sometimes it was your thoughts that kept you up; late at night— dark thoughts that swirled around in your head and slowly poisoned your brain with heavy black venom. it was hard to sleep when your mind was heavy with fear, but ever since dating shoto todoroki; those nights became easier and sleep wasn’t so hard to come by.

you weren’t so sure what it was about your boyfriend that made it easier for you to get some shut eye; it’s not like he really knew either. todoroki just didn’t like seeing you in pain, the way your face twisted with discomfort or the way sleepy tears would wet your cheeks under the moonlight— but you had somewhat of an idea, that his fresh peppermint smell and warm arms are what often helped you.

shoto would so lovingly sneak into your room, no matter the time, dusk or dawn— he would hold you tight under the sheets until you drifted off to dream land. even if it meant being teased by the others for stumbling out of your room in the morning, his pretty hair a wild mess creating the image that’d you’d both been up to no good, he’d face it all for you, over and over again.

but tonight, your loving, caring and doting boyfriend was nowhere to be seen— everyone’s second internships had begun and todoroki had chosen to work with his father along with izuku and katsuki, so it was no doubt that they wouldn’t be home until late. what with endeavour being the number one and all.

your friends knew about your struggles to sleep, of course, todoroki bluntly mentioning how you ‘like to sleep together’ to soothe your nightmares ( iida had lectured you about it after, saying it was inappropriate while deku and ochako turned as red as your boyfriend’s hair ) so offered to stay up with you— but you needed rest, today’s training sessions having taken a toll on your body, and wave them off with a smile laced with tiredness.

you could call him, he wouldn’t mind and you know it— but he’s with his father and that takes enough out of him as it is.

you decide, instead, to trudge to the dual quirked boy’s bedroom, instantly calmed by his sweet peppermint scent embedded into every inch of his dorm. you swipe one of his clean sweaters straight from the closet before hitting the lights and snuggling into his bed.

tonight would be fine, todoroki would come home, wrap you in his arms and with the aid of his scent surrounding you— you would sleep safe and soundly.

is what you hoped as you drifted off to the land of dreams.

when you were younger, you watched your older brother, haru, get hit by a car.

the scene haunts you to this very day, crawling up on you while you rest at night— choking you out in your dreams. you see it now, feet glued to the ground as you’re forced to watch the younger version of you, mess with your older brother using your new found quirk. your parents had called it scenery, back then your powerful quirk had been their pride and joy, giving you the ability to create a mirage in a certain targets mind— make them see things that weren’t really there.

back then it was fun to play tricks on your sibling— you made haru see all of his worst nightmares, everything but the road.

everything but the oncoming car.

everything but his untimely death.

you want to scream at little you— tell her to stop and that it’s not funny anymore as she forces your brother back into the road— he’s giggling, he doesn’t know it yet and neither do you. but the words you want to say die down deep in your throat, suffocating you from the inside although they burn at your lungs to burst through.

why cant you speak? why cant you stop her?

adrenaline trickles into your blood stream as you will yourself to run out into the street and protect haru from the oncoming traffic just as he slips off of the sidewalk. your senses are blown out of the water, static noise filling your ears and intertwining with childish screams and the sound of a not so distant honking horn.

you claw harshly at your throat. speak. save him. for god’s sake; do something.

“you’ll kill him! stop! you’re going to kill him!”

the flickering of artificial, yellow light behind your closed eyes has you jolting awake, sweat forming at your brow and hands clenched tightly around your boyfriend’s plain bedsheets. your gaze darts across the room while your heart thumps loudly in your ribcage from the fear that struck you in your dream and finally, your stare settles on a shirtless, bewildered shoto todoroki. his face is a little scratched up no doubt from being on his father’s patrol and he looks exhausted but that doesn’t stop the concern he has for you taking over his expression. “yn—?”

“s-sho,” you hate how your voice caves so easily, the single syllable of your nickname for him falling wetly from chapped lips. todoroki is by your side in an instant, not caring that he’s only half dressed and half awake. he’ll deal with that later.

with tender hands shoto cups the back of your head, letting you sink into the warmth of his flesh. you reach out for your boyfriend and he’s there, taking your free hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze to help ground you. “love, what happened? why didn’t you call? you know i don’t mind—” his timbre voice fills your ears like warm honey, calming your rapid breathing but all you can do is shake your head.

“nightmare ‘n you were working,” you pant, cutting him off while the death grip on your lover’s hand begins increasing. you feel so far from the ground, the scene of haru’s death dancing across your mind. “i killed him, again—“

shoto watches your body twitch with fear and your usually glimmering eyes gloss over in away that makes him feel sick. you’re not here with him yet, still tangled up in the black string of your bad dreams. the world around the dual eyed boy begins to change and it seems you’ve activated your quirk by accident— showing him scenes of the day your brother died.

you screw your eyes shut as flashes of his body tangle with reality to the point where you don’t know what’s real and what’s not. you’re losing control of yourself so easily, fresh sets of tears stinging their way down your streaked cheeks. trapped. you feel trapped like a bird in a cage even while you’re awake and the sounds of cars and screaming burn at your ears once more.

make it stop, please.

“yn... come back to me love, i’m right here,” todoroki’s calm voice cuts through the suffocating song of death, dragging you back to reality while the effects of your quirk drift away. his fingers, although contrasting temperatures, now cup your cheeks to tilt your face towards him so that your eyes lock with his under the crescent moon. “you didn’t kill him. that wasn’t you. it wasn’t your fault.”

you blink away more tears like a helpless child, chest heaving but todoroki doesn’t give up. “but—“

“no.” your boyfriend says softly, yet sternly, leaning down to place an eskimo kiss to your nose. your eyes flutter shut at his simple gesture, although it raises saftey and warmth across your body— black radiates behind your closed eyelids, no longer plagued broken bones and blood. it’s easy to keep breathing from there, focusing on that as todoroki pulls you into his lap and the sheets fall away from your body.

“no,” you repeat back to him while shoto’s arms settle on your waist and his familiar scent of fresh peppermint fills your senses. “not my fault.”

it wasn’t your fault, that day the car had come speeding down a usually safe road in a residential area. the accident was a hit and run, but being a child made you feel every ounce of the blame. shaking the thought away you curl into your lover’s chest, listening for sounds of his heartbeat while he toys with a lose string on his sweater— the one you wear.

“that’s right, good girl...not your fault, here with me yet, love?”

when you glance up, todoroki is looking right back down at you— brows creased with worry but there’s love in his stare, overwhelming amounts that make you hum into his bare chest, grounded by the feeling of his skin against yours. “present and accounted for,” his chest rumbles with relieved laughter, soothing you even more. “thank you, sho. i’m sorry for making you do this so late at night.”

this time, shoto shakes his head— sending locks of red and white flying. “don’t thank me and don’t apologise,” his words are feather light in the dark while he manoeuvres you both onto his back to settle into bed. you’re about to mention that he’s still half in his suit, but your boyfriend doesn’t seem to care, already closing his eyes. “i’m yours, your boyfriend and i’m going to support you no matter what. i’ve got you, okay? you’re always here for me so i’ll do my best to do the same for you. what kind of man would i be if i wasn’t?”

“a very unmanly man,” you tease with a kitten like yawn, already feeling the confines of a more comfortable sleep, taking over.

todoroki rolls his eyes but pulls you closer to him anyways. “you’ve been spending too much time with kirishima.”

“at least i don’t spend everyday working with bakugou, now that’s true nightmare.” you counter, narrowly missing a pinch to the side from your boyfriend.

the pair of you sleep soundly that night, wrapped in each other’s arms. you feel safe, knowing that nothing could ever harm you, as long as you were with him. shoto todoroki would give anything for to you to have a goodnight’s rest. no matter what. even if it meant staying awake with you and being late to patrol with endeavour the next day.

not like he cared, he hated his dad anyway.

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idy-ll-ique · 3 years

Text

Breaking The Rules.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader (sort of Winter Soldier x F!Reader too)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: like,,, lots of murder

Requested: nope

Summary: The Winter Soldier attacks the building where Y/N works and comes face-to-face with her. Surprising her and himself, he lets her go, breaking the rules, not following his orders. Y/N is so thankful about his mercy that she is now the world's biggest Bucky Barnes stan. What happens when their paths cross again 7 years later?

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Okay so I don't really know if I've done a good job writing this but I tried my best so,,, enjoy!

---

The Asset is not thinking.

The Asset is not made to think.

Casually stroking his gun as he walked into the plain building, he watched the people inside the room pause for a minute. Then the screaming began. He simply stood there, the scene unfolding in front of him as people ran; inside rooms, out the building as they jumped out of windows to avoid him. He let them.

Finally having had enough because HYDRA demands some kills, Soldat, he cocked his gun and started out by fighting the security guards that had an ounce of bravery in them as they approached him with their own guns. He killed them easily. Then he moved further into the building, ending the lives of anyone who tried to get in his way.

What was his purpose of doing this? There was none. He was programmed to kill, and the program had no specific targets. No targets, only kill. He walked up the stairs of the building as more people, who had not been dead, escaped. Then he ended up on the floor where she was.

Y/N was going through a stack of papers, wearing headphones, when she heard a scream. It had been so sudden and loud that she startled badly, the papers flying from her hands as she turned around, ready to give the person a piece of her mind only to be met with the prettiest blue eyes she had ever seen in her life. The breath left her lungs and fear overtook her.

The person in front of her; she had heard of him. They called him The Winter Soldier. He was covered in black leather, his silver arm shining in the sunlight that entered through the window on her right. She quickly glanced at it; she was 10 stories above ground. He had a black mask on (more like a muzzle, she thought) and a peculiar look on his face.

She looked around the room, her eyes filling with tears when she saw the bodies of her coworkers, the friends she had made at the workplace, littered on the floor. Damn you, stupid headphones. She discarded them. He had killed them all. The Winter Soldier didn't really have a say in what he did, she told herself, he had been programmed to act like that.

Nothing but a murder toy for HYDRA.

And she hated them for that.

"Don't cry." She looked back at the Soldat, her eyes wide in confusion. Huh? Why would he say that? She blinked away the tears and started raising a hand to wipe them off when he suddenly raised his gun. Her hand paused mid-air and she held her breath, waiting for him to finally put her out of her misery as her eyes unconsciously watered once more.

When he saw her hand, though, her palm was facing him. Ready to rub off the tears, he noticed, and he lowered the gun. "Don't cry," he repeated and Y/N, as absurd as she found the situation to be, did as he ordered. She wiped the tears off and rubbed her hands on the jeans she was wearing, staring at the man. He stared back at her.

When he first entered the floor, he had done what he had been told, until there was no one alive in the room. Or so he thought, until his eyes landed on Y/N. She was wearing some sort of a device over her head, completely oblivious to what was going on. Was she deaf? Did she not hear the gunshots?

As he approached her cautiously, someone screamed behind him. And he saw how the papers flew out of her hand she whirled around, her big, doe eyes blinking at him until recognition sparked in them. Then she cowered. For some reason, as he looked at her, he couldn't bring himself to harm her. She looked… adorable, almost. So he did what he did best.

Stared.

Her eyes were darting around the place, and they watered when they landed on the bodies on the floor. He gulped quietly under his mask, something inside him stirring uncomfortably as he watched her cry. And suddenly, he couldn't help himself. "Don't cry," he blurted out and she looked back at him. He stared. She blinked rapidly and started raising her hand.

Thinking she would raise a hand on him, he immediately held up his gun as a warning but realized that she was simply drying her tears, new ones in her eyes as she looked at the gun. And he suddenly felt very apologetic. "Don't cry," he repeated and allowed her to wipe her tears. But he was surprised to hear her speak.

"Please don't hurt me."

She was shaking, arms going around herself, but she wasn't crying. At least she was not crying. He didn't reply, only stared as a foreign, almost forgotten word came to mind. Pretty. She was pretty. Soldat or not, how could he bring himself to harm a pretty thing like her? He raised his gun again when he remembered his orders; kill, do not show mercy.

The pretty woman started crying again, this time her tears were much more prominent. "Please, please don't do it, please… I have done nothing to you, don't do it…" she pleaded, fingers intertwined as if in prayer. Kill her. But he ignored the order and lowered his gun again.

"Pretty," he stated and her brows furrowed. Y/N blinked at him, pretty? Did she hear that right? He called her pretty, right? "Pardon?" she blurted out and his head tilted to the side. "Go." His voice sounded strained and for a moment, Y/N wanted to embrace him, to comfort him but hurriedly dismissing the thoughts, she turned on her heels and ran out the building.

The Asset stared at her as she ran.

He had not been programmed to think.

Then why had he?

---

"Guys, I'm telling you, it was so surreal—"

"Oh my God, Y/N, will you stop—"

Steve, Sam and Bucky glanced at the group of ladies that ended up at the bar next to them. A few years had passed since the incident between Bucky and Y/N took place and he was back to normal. No longer the Winter Soldier; he was an ally of the Avengers now. Steve glanced at his friends, lips curling into an amused smile.

"What do you think they're talking about?" he whispered and Sam snickered quietly. "Why don't we listen?" Bucky simply shook his head, but was also kind of intrigued at this surreal experience that Y/N talked about. Y/N… that name sounded kind of familiar to him, but maybe it was a common one, what did he know?

"He called me pretty!"

"We know he's hot, Y/N, but seriously, the Winter Soldier did not call you pretty."

The three men froze and their eyes darted amongst each other. "He did," Y/N whined, "I'm telling you!" Bucky almost dropped his glass but managed to hold on, his jaw dropped. Thankfully the ladies were not aware of the men shamelessly eavesdropping on their conversation. "Wait wait wait, what is this about you and the Winter Soldier? I've not heard that story."

"Ugh, Sam, you've done it now!"

Steve and Bucky glanced at Sam with smirks and he rolled his eyes. "Samantha," he snarked but the super soldiers only shrugged in reply. "Okay okay, this was like… 7 years ago. I was in my office, working, when our building was attacked. By him." And Bucky, try as he might, couldn't remember shit.

"Dude, I was wearing headphones so damn strong that I didn't hear literal gunshots echoing around the room, like what?"

"Seriously, Y/N? You know we won't say anything if you tell us you're lying."

"But I'm not lying," Y/N insisted, "I heard a scream and finally took off the headphones. When I turned to see who had screamed, he was literally standing in front of me." Hazy memories slowly flashed in his mind; a plain building, those red-black headphones and the fluttering of papers. He gulped his drink down.

"And didn't kill you like he had been trained to? I still think you're lying. Or maybe you just have severe trauma and you made up a story of the handsome Bucky Barnes calling you pretty." Bucky nearly laughed when Y/N's face turned red but then guilt started weighing heavy in his stomach. He had put her in danger…

"I don't have trauma, don't joke about stuff like that! Anyway, I was like, scared shitless. I thought I was gonna die, I started crying but he told me, don't cry. Like huh?" Bucky didn't remember that part. Steve and Sam were now definitely drawn to the story, their eyes set on their glasses as they listened.

"I didn't want to anger him so I wiped my tears but he raised that goddamn gun again and I started crying again. He repeated his words and I started pleading, as we've all seen in action movies." Snorts drifted between them. "Please don't hurt me, let me go…" Y/N mimicked but Bucky's heart rate suddenly spiked. The same voice, the same tone…

He had had a nightmare the previous night.

She was the one he heard.

"Okay, so after I'm done begging, you know what he fucking says? Out of all things, he literally called me pretty. Like just— just that one word came out of his mouth. I'm literally still so confused," she spoke animatedly and the friend who had not heard the story before gasped. "Seriously? No way," she scoffed.

"Yes way!" Y/N got impatient. Why did no one ever believe her? She got that it was an outlandish story, but it was real! Y/N wished the Soldat was here; not to kill, of course, merely to confirm the fact that he had, indeed, called her pretty. But that man was long gone, replaced by someone who was stable-but-not-so-stable, undoubtedly handsome and with a new metal arm. This Bucky was much better than the dangerous Soldat.

"Then he told me to go. He sounded so fucking soft, you know? I have so much respect for Bucky Barnes, I mean, look at him. He went through so much he didn't deserve, and sometimes I just wanna—" She made a choking gesture, "—everyone who hurt him." Her friends chuckled but he could tell she wasn't lying. She really did care for him.

After all he put her through…

"I'm serious! Look at him! He looks like a lost puppy. How can you not care about him?" Y/N whined and her friends shook their heads. "You just have a big crush on the man, accept it." Bucky rolled his eyes as Steve and Sam smirked at him. He nudged them both, keeping silent. "You know what? I wish he was here right now. He probably doesn't even remember but if he did—"

"I remember it, doll, only vaguely…"

Y/N's group froze as their gazes followed the voice, landing on the three Avengers beside them. Her friends were mortified, Y/N even more so. Did he hear the story? "D-Did you… hear…" she stammered and Bucky pursed his lips. "I'm sorry." The apology fell out before he could stop himself and Y/N, ever the Bucky-apologist, instantly shook her head.

"It was not your fault. HYDRA did that to you. You didn't deserve any of it, mark my words." She sounded like Steve, he noticed and smiled gently. After all he put her through… she still stood by his side. "Thank you, doll, that really means a lot," he said sincerely and Y/N grinned at him. "You're welcome!" And before she could turn to her friends, he spoke up again.

"I meant what I said."

"Hm?" She looked at him, head tilted in confusion. "When I called you pretty, I meant it. You are pretty, very much so." She went red under his intense gaze and shied away, forcing Steve, Sam and her friends to burst into boisterous laughter. "Th-Thanks," she mumbled and Bucky craved her more.

"Join me for a drink?" he questioned and her eyes widened. He mistook it for fear and immediately lowered his head. "Sorry, I overstepped—" He froze when she took his metal hand, holding it gently, looking at him with the same eyes he had thought to be adorable 7 years ago. "Of course I'll join you." A genuine smile bloomed on his face and without a care in the world, he led her away from her friends.

She was going to be his.

Forever and always.

The only woman caring and wonderful enough to accept him, broken and everything.

---

A/N: Leave a like if you enjoyed, thanks for reading! Love you all 🖤

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fluff #winter soldier #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan characters #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

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yee-fxcking-haw · 3 years

Text

•Love Me Tender•

Summary: After waiting, watching, and wanting, Tamaki finally has a way to get to you. He's willing to do use some questionable methods, make deals with shifty friends, whatever it takes. He'll have you.

Pairing: Pro Hero Tamaki Amajiki x FemReader (both 18+)

Warnings: Yandere behavior, stalking, coercion, sabotage, manipulation, hard dom Tamaki, slight brat reader, mostly sub reader, unprotected sex, virginity loss, oral sex (female receiving), tentacle play (oral, vaginal, anal, gagging), bondage (with tentacles), mild dumbification, degradation, spit play, cum play, wittle bit of bloodplay, creampie, marking, possession kink, collaring. Kinda-sorta dub-con (not really imo but warning just in case)

Word Count: 11,576

A/N: Jesus fucking christ I did it.

Part One: Porcelain Obsession

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Tamaki awoke painfully this morning, body aching and covered in dried sweat. It wasn't a feeling to be proud of, but it was a feeling he cherished.

Your stolen underwear is clutched in his hand still, like a lifeline. It still smells just a little bit like you… but not enough. He couldn't feel you or taste you or hold you. He had to figure something out, quickly. He had to find a way to make you his.

Luckily, Tamaki knows exactly how to make that happen…

***

You hang up your apron with a deep sigh, wiping sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Thank god it's only a half day, you finally have an afternoon off, a day to spend by yourself.

You bid your coworkers farewell and head out of the shop. You wander home, earbuds in as you try to drown out the noise of the city. Once you're home, you notice a small box on your doorstep.

It's a pretty little gold box with purple ribbon, a tiny note is attached to the top. The scribbled writing reads,

"I thought this would look pretty on you, I'm sorry about the weird exit last night. I'd like to take you to get some coffee to make up for it, if you'll let me." - Tamaki

Your heart flutters a bit at the note, you had deduced you were nothing more than a charity case. Him walking you home was just what he felt was fair in exchange for the use of your phone, he didn't really… like you? Did he?

His exit was just a little bit strange, he seemed almost panicked. You wanted to ask if everything was ok, but figure it best to stay out of a hero's business. Who knows what door you'd be opening if you started to ask too many questions.

Beneath his note is a phone number, obviously his. You can't call him right away, it might seem desperate, but you can open the box.

When the lid comes off, you gasp quietly at what's hidden inside. On a delicate silver chain sits one lovely little pearl. You stand there, amazed and confused. Wondering why on earth somebody like Suneater would leave such a precious little gift for you.

***

You called the number left on the note about an hour after receiving it. As soon as Tamaki picks up the phone your heart leaps into your throat.

"I didn't think y-you'd call." He laughs afterwards, but you can hear traces of genuine anxiety underneath.

"Well, what kind of an asshole would I be if I didn't call back the hero that saved me from a lonely walk home?" Your face crinkles up at your horrid attempt at flirting.

He doesn't seem to mind, though. He gives you a sweet laugh, putting some of your nerves at ease.

"So, uh- coffee?" He wonders.

"I'd love to, I just got off work, but I imagine you're busy doing hero stuff. We can-"

"No I'm not busy." He says quickly, his urgency makes you smile. He's almost boyish in his approach, and it's very charming.

Somehow, between the two of you suffering your way through the conversation, you set a time for coffee.

***

Tamaki makes a quick stop before meeting you, visiting a horrid friend of his in an alleyway a hero should never be unless he's kicking someone's ass.

His "friend" turns out to be a little more than your average criminal. He's a wicked looking man, with a mess of black hair and an abundance of scarring littering his body.

They call him Dabi.

"So what's the plan here? Am I just scarin' the poor girl or do I get to have some real fun?" His smile is devilish, and his eyes are telling.

It makes Tamaki's skin crawl, he stares daggers at the man leaning against the brick of the alleyway.

"If you touch her, I will gut you like a fucking fish." Tamaki says, he's full of rage, but he says it so calmly, so matter of fact.

"You can try." Dabi laughs, "You forget how easy it is to cook seafood."

Tamaki stands there for a brief second, watching the villain, weighing his options.

"I'm not here for banter, can you do the job or not?" His words are clipped, strangely articulate compared to his usual stutter.

"Yeah whatever, I got nothin' planned for tonight, and I do love making little girls scream." He tilts his head back against the wall as Tamaki turns to stalk away.

"Hey, Suneater." Dabi calls out with a lazy voice.

Tamaki freezes and keeps his back to Dabi. He turns his head to the side and waits for him to speak.

"Send her my way when you're done with her." If Tamaki had less of the public eye on him, he would have slit Dabi's throat then and there.

Instead, he swallows his rage as he tosses a hefty wad of cash over his shoulder.

"Don't be late."

***

"You always just drink it black? Not even a little bit of sugar?' You ask, astounded by Tamaki's ability to drink the bitter liquid without any sweetener.

"Sugar is kind of useless for me, I try to eat things that'll help me with m-my quirk." He explains, his deep eyes wander while he talks, like he's watching for something.

That must come with being a hero.

"Does coffee help your quirk?" You ask, a smile playing at your lips when you see him frown at his drink.

"No, but it helps me focus."

You nod playfully before taking a sip, the cafe he's brought you to is incredibly charming. It's not an overly hip establishment, it's just a sweet little hidden gem. Tucked away into a forgotten street, it gives the impression that it's a well kept secret between two best friends.

"Do you feel like people ask too much of you?" You question. It slips out so quickly, running away from you after launching out of your lips.

Your hatred for small talk gets the best of you and you jump the gun, as always. You want to hide, but not before you apologise a thousand times for being too straightforward.

Tamaki looks at you thoughtfully, his eyes show that he's shocked, but not offended.

"Sometimes. It can feel like people expect me t-to be the…" He pauses for a moment, mentally grasping for the right word.

"It feels like people expect Heroes to be this ultimate, universal band-aid. In a lot of ways, we are, but we're still h-human… I-I'm still human…" His voice slows down by the end of his sentence, like he's realized he might be over sharing.

But, you asked him, you wanted to know. You actually care about him? Every bone in his body is screaming at him to grab you, throw you over his shoulder and run away. He feels some carnal desire to just keep you. Hide you from every selfish asshole that would take advantage of the starstruck look in your beautiful eyes.

He can't, though… not yet.

"S-sorry…" He whispers.

And then, you reach across the table to take his hand in yours. He feels the contact all the up his arm, into his chest, into his heart.

So you do want him too.

"Please don't be sorry, I liked listening to you talk." You say quietly.

You did love it, you loved it because you've felt so unheard, so unseen. Being able to provide somebody else with a pair of listening ears serves as a kind of relief for those feelings.

"Can you tell me more?" You test, hand squeezing his own a little more.

He looks almost elated, thrilled to be seen, excited to be heard. Most of all, he's itching to finally have you.

***

The date was nothing short of wonderful, filled with cute little fumblings of words, hands brushing but never holding, and sharing bits and pieces of yourselves with each other.

You flop onto your bed, reminiscent of a teenager who's just had their first kiss. You didn't kiss him goodnight, you chickened out of that. But you did press your lips against his cheek for a brief moment, which seemed to have quite the effect on him.

His breath hitched, his fists balled at his sides, acting like he'd never been touched so tenderly. It made you wonder, is the Hero as lonely as you are?

You glance over at your night stand, seeing the pretty little necklace sitting in its box. You're washed with guilt as you realize you forgot to wear it to coffee, knowing he must have wanted you to. You take it out of the box carefully before pulling it around your neck and hooking it into place. It fits like a choker, snug against your skin, but it feels good to have it so close.

You're ripped from your musing when you hear the unmistakable sound of breaking glass.

Inside your house.

Your blood chills, hair stands up on the back of your neck and you rise from your bed slowly. You try to talk yourself down, kill the first nerves that consume your chest. It was probably a poorly balanced vase… except, you don't own any vases. It could have been a picture? Nope, not a picture, it was just glass… like a window breaking.

There's a gun in your office, but you're in the bedroom. You scan the room for something, anything that could be used for defense. Of course, nothing but a damn notebook.

The police, you should call the police. Your heart clenches when you hear the threatening sound of heavy footsteps falling down your hallway.

They're heading straight for your bedroom.

You lunge at the door, hand landing on the doorknob just as it begins to turn. Desperately, uselessly, you try to lock it. It's too late, though, it's already opening by the time your thumb lands on the lock.

You can hear your blood rushing when the door swings towards you, a large black boot planted on the other side to force it open.

"Sorry 'bout the window, sweetheart. I tried the front door, but it was locked." The intruder chuckles as he invades your bedroom.

You stumble back as you take in his sewn together form, a mess of black leather and scars. Wild, electric blue eyes devour your trembling form as you press yourself back into the wall.

"Oh, hon, you're shakin' like you're in danger. I ain't gonna hurt you, I'm gonna do the opposite." He stalks towards you, somehow moving in slow motion but with incredible speed all at the same time.

Your phone sits on your night stand, only feet away but all too unreachable. You're caged in by his arms as he towers over you, filling your nose with some horrid, smokey smell.

"P-please, you can have anything, j-just don't-"

Your words halt when a long, pale finger traces over your collar bone.

"Don't what? 'J-just don't' what?" He mocks you, eyes lit with a sadistic amusement.

Your heart rattles in your chest as tears prick your eyes, you can't fight him, he's huge. You don't have your gun. You don't have your phone. You're fucked.

"Cryin' already? What's the matter, doll?-" The hand traces your collar bone moves up to wrap around your throat, "Not a fan of villains?"

Your hands paw at his wrist, you will yourself to sputter something out, any kind of objection to whatever he has planned. You try to whimper out a 'stop', but when your mouth finally forms the word, the voice isn't yours, but it's familiar.

It's low, clipped and dangerous as it barks out the warning.

Suneater.

Suddenly, as if he's being yanked to the heavens by the Gods, your assailant is torn away from you. A large, red tentacle captures him by the waist and throws him across the room. You collapse to the ground instantly, curling around your legs as you hear the muffled sounds of a violent fight.

You hide in your own little world, trembling and clenching yourself. You take one peak from between your arms, just to see Tamaki place the intruder in a chokehold before barking some profane threat at him.

The villain is smiling the whole time, he even winks at you.

"If I ever see you near her again, you won't walk away with your life." Tamaki snarls as the stranger breaks away from his hold.

"She's not worth the trouble." He laughs, raising one hand before sending brilliant blue flames blasting towards Tamaki.

You scream involuntarily, reaching out for the Hero as he jumps away from the flames. Once they're gone, the villain is gone as well. Like some cheap magician disappearing off stage. The room is almost entirely untouched by the burst of fire, at most, the tip of your comforter is singed.

The second the fire is gone, Tamaki is walking towards you urgently, pulling you to your feet so he can cradle your face.

"Are you ok? Did he touch you? What happened?" His inky eyes search your face frantically.

You don't answer, you just stutter, clinging to his hands until you can finally squeak out, "I'm ok."

His shoulders drop as he sighs, hands loosening their grip. His eyes flicker down to the necklace, his gaze softens when he sees how pretty it looks on you.

"Y-you… Do you like it?" He asks timidly, glancing up at you.

You breathe for a moment, slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in attention.

"I love it." You say quietly, still trembling.

He just saved you, really saved you from a real villain who was planning God knows what, and he's worried about your necklace?

"It's so pr-pretty on you…" He reaches down to touch it, leaving one hand on your cheek.

You take the moment to breathe, remind yourself that you're safe, that you're with a hero now. You observe Tamaki's almost casual appearance, a dry fit shirt and simple tactical pants. It almost helps you relax, seeing him like so… at ease?

His fingers play with the pearl, deep eyes transfixed. Something nearly uncontrollable swells within his chest. It burns and aches and eats at him. You're so close, you're so warm, so soft. He could have you, he could just take you.

"Tamaki?" You prod gently, your own chest stirs, and something pulls you towards him.

His eyes snap up to yours, and something shifts in the air. It feels sticky, heavy, too hard to breathe. His gorgeous form towers over you, pressing you back up against the wall as his eyes devour your trembling body.

"Thank you f-for saving me." You whisper.

He nods earnestly, his breathing is shaking, his hands feel like they're holding back.

"Anything. Anything for you."

That line, that makes you ache.

How long have you felt so lukewarm, so overlooked and forgotten? Too long, far too long. Now, with Tamaki looking down at you like you're priceless, you feel fiery, you feel seen and remembered.

Your hands grasp at his wrists, your eyes flick down to his parted lips. You're not sure what you want to happen next, but you want him as close as you can get him.

"If you let me start, I will not stop." His voice drops and it makes your breath catch.

He feels it too, then.

Is it the high of what you've just gone through? Is it just your body trauma bonding with the man that just saved you? Or do you really, really want him so bad it hurts?

His tone is warning and his eyes are frantic.

"Please." Is the only thing that falls from your quivering lips.

Consequences be damned, motives especially be damned. You need him, and he needs you. That's enough explanation for tonight.

He consumes you much like the villains flames, his lips are on yours almost too fast, his hands are greedy as they hold your face to his.

While you feel similar to a lovesick girl getting kissed for the first time, Tamaki feels like a prisoner finally set free. He feels like a lion that was held in a cage and taunted with a piece of meat. He feels like the door has finally been opened, and he can finally sink his teeth in.

"I wanna feel you." He brings his mouth away from yours with much reluctance, leaving his forehead pressed against yours.

You flounder for a moment, with your mouth feeling dry and your limbs feeling heavy.

"Where?" You choke out, searching his face for any tell.

"God, everywhere." It's a broken request, said like a secret.

"Take it. Whatever you want." Your boldness surprises you both.

You're hooked on the exhilaration, you're craving more, you want to feel something. Even after just a walk home and a coffee date, you want to feel it with Tamaki.

"Don't give me that…" He shivers as he presses his body against yours, making it very evident how much of an affect you're having on him.

"I'll ruin you." He whimpers when you grind back against him, your hands tug at his shirt and you look up at him with wide eyes.

"Who said I don't want that?"

You both stand there frozen, waiting for the other to move, to prove that this isn't a dream.

"Fuck."

His hands descend from cradling your face so they can wrap around your neck with the most gentle grip.

He watches you intently, feels your breath quicken, cherishing the way you bite your lip when his fingers tighten slightly.

Internally, Tamaki is fighting the most challenging battle he's ever had to face. He's had to take on a wide variety of formidable enemies, but right now, nothing seems more formidable than having to hold himself back when he finally has you in his arms.

He wants to take and take and take, for as long as you'll let him… maybe even longer.

She's mine now.

Something shifts in his gaze just then, making him look almost primal. It makes your chest feel frozen, makes it difficult to breathe or focus.

His hands shift around your neck, they feel almost… slippery? Their texture is different, their movement is more fluid. Then, you feel it, the distinct sensation of a suction cup latching against your skin.

Tentacles. He's made each of his fingers a tentacle.

Your eyes stay locked on his, both of you in a heated trance as you watch how the other responds.

One slick tendril crawls up to latch onto your chin, he turns your head upwards and to the side with a thoughtful look. It's almost like he's sizing you up, appraising you.

After a thick moment of silence, he finally speaks.

"I'm going to make you cry." It's a depraved promise, beautifully whispered with no shame.

You stand there, held by him, captured by him. You're helplessly entranced, all rational thought is long gone as you reel over the implications of his statement. All you can know for sure, is you want more.

Despite every red flag, regardless of any common sense, you want more.

"I dare you." You say back to him, the desperation to feel anything other than mundane spurs you onward.

He receives the words like it's a smack to the face, some shock evident in his eyes. He didn't take you for a brat, but he can certainly roll with it.

"You're gonna make this fun for me, aren't you?" He questions, his tentacles grip you tighter now, reminding you who has the high ground.

Mine.

The air shifts, something heavier takes over the mood, it settles in your ribs and wraps around your heart.

He guides you away from the wall, shepherding you around until your back is towards your bed. He starts walking you backwards until your knees buckle once they hit the mattress.

You sit there, gazing up at him, held still by his quirk, transfixed by the power he exudes as he towers over you.

"Has anyone ever had you before?" He asks, finally returning his hand to normal so he can cradle your cheek.

The question has your stomach burning with nerves.

No, nobody ever has.

You shake your head, looking down, cheeks burning as you try to hide your embarrassment.

His reaction shocks you immensely, his whole body shutters and he drops to his knees. His hands settle on your waist as he moves between your legs.

"Th-this is… all mine then?" He asks, he rubs his thumbs over the bottoms of your ribs affectionately.

His eyes are wide and reverent as he waits for your answer, looking like you're some anointed goddess. His eyes skate over every feature he can, and he cherishes each one.

Your confession nearly knocks the wind out of him, especially with how sweet you look, all blushing and embarrassed. It makes his need to rip you apart even stronger.

"Please...let me give you everything…" His hands tighten on you and you feel them shaking.

You study him for a second, at a complete loss for words, he seems so… devoted. It pulls on your heart, clouds your mind and lights your body up. How could you possibly say no to him? How on earth could you turn someone away when they’re looking at you like you’re placed on an altar ready to be worshiped.

Carefully, like you’re trying not to frighten a beast, you reach out and touch his face. He moves into your touch like a lonely cat, desperate for affection and recognition.

“Please…” You breathe.

And that’s all it takes.

His breath leaves his lungs in a harsh rush as he moves forward like a leopard, lean and precise as he forces you onto your back.

Your blood rushes so quickly you swear you can hear it, your mouth goes dry as he stares you down. He’s suddenly less reverent, now he’s ravenous. A dangerous, carnivorous look dances in his dark eyes. His judgement is clouded just like yours, only it fuels him, while your state is much more terrified. Any spunk you had in you is thrown out the window as he leers over you.

You shrink into the mattress as he hovers above you on all fours, heavy eyelids and parted lips giving him a nearly drugged look.

“When you say everything-” He whispers, moving so he can settle on his knees between your open legs, “Do you mean this too?” He drops his hips as he questions you, pressing something very hard into your thigh, something very intimidating.

He watches your eyes go wide, a wicked grin spreading across his face when you gasp after he rolls his hips. His arms cage you, a strong hand placed on either side of your head, the position makes you feel so pathetic, so helpless, but it gives you an incredible rush.

“Don’t look so scared, it won’t hurt.” He dips down to press his hot, open mouth against your neck, tongue lapping at your pulse. A dark chuckle leaves his chest, “Not much, at least.”

Then he’s definitely less reverent, he’s no longer worshipful, he’s a wicked, unleashed best. His hands are selfish as they remove your clothes, his mouth is voracious against your skin. He has you panting and twitching in seconds, musing at you when your reactions are particularly strong.

It’s when he snakes down your body, wetting your skin with his tongue, settling between your breasts so he can suck harshly at the heated skin, that you finally feel something break within you. You arch into his touch, fisting your hands in his raven hair, whimpering so beautifully for him as he works you up.

He knows what he’s doing, he’s skilled, well equipped for pulling you apart. He’s already descended into some debauched state of being, and he’s pulling you down with him.

“Nobody’s ever tasted this sweet little cunt before, have they?” He asks against your skin, latching his mouth back to the spot he’s focused on marking, but looking up at you with inquiring eyes.

You try to swallow, shake your head, do something, but all you can do is lay there naked and gasping.

He laughs again, a wicked thing that leaves his chest like a wisp of wind. He slides a hand up your body, he flicks over your nipple with his thumb on the way up, pulling another whimper out of you.

His hand latches onto your jaw, then he shakes your head for you, doing what he knows you can’t.

“Oh baby…” He sighs, “You saved it for me?” He teases, hips grinding against you, the cloth of his pants creates a strange kind of friction against your clit, not unpleasant, but not pleasurable. Where the hell did the sweet, stuttering hero go? If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looks deviant… almost villainous.

“Tama- please.” You shiver, not sure what you’re asking for, but certain that you need more.

“Good girl, talk to me.” His hand slinks down your throat before he rises to his knees.

Your eyes lock on the tightness of his pants, trying not to panic at the sheer size of the imprint he’s making on them.

His shirt is pulled over his head, messing his hair in the most handsome way, and the breath is ripped from your lungs.

He’s stunning, broad and strong looking. He’s all porcelain skin over well trained muscle. Built perfectly for the work he does. Built perfectly for ripping apart poor little girls like you.

“I liked the look you got when I had my tentacles on you.” He sighs, letting a hand fall to your bare stomach so he can trace lazy circles against you.

“Did you like that? Do you want me to use my tentacles to play with you?” He questions.

His voice is low, it’s rich and warm and dripping with seduction. Nothing like the tentative, wobbly tone he usually has. It rips the ground out from underneath you, leaves you panting and blinking like a brain dead fool as you gawk up at his prowling form.

“Just a yes or no, if you can manage it.” He smiles sweetly up at you, splaying his hand across your quaking abdomen.

You breathe deeply, trying to steady yourself, trying to catch up with what he’s said.

“Y-yes.” You whisper, barely audible, hardly heard over your labored breathing.

His other hand mirrors the one he has on you, sliding around to hold you by the waist, a gentle cage meant to establish dominance.

“Yes… what?” He prompts, pressing his thumbs down.

You falter then, your tongue feels heavy, your mind slows and you’re suddenly void of all vocabulary. Were you really really about to let one of the most well known pros wreck your body with his quirk? Were you actually laid out for him like this? You know so little of him, your only information gathered from small talk, but something about that had you buzzing.

You could be whoever you want to be, you don’t have to be the floundering virgin. You don’t have to be so damn shell shocked.

“Yes, D-daddy.” You test, hoping to God or whoever is listening that you got the right name.

By the way his eyes flutter closed, the way his grip tightens, the way his body tenses, you sure as hell did.

“That’s it.” He sighs, “-and what about you?” He wonders, his hold going gentle again.

You? What about you?

Tamaki watches you carefully, barely containing the raging storm inside him, barely holding back the carnal urge to turn every limb to a pretty purple tentacle and stuff you until you’re crying for mercy.

Not yet, don’t fuck this up.

“Princess? Darling?” He asks, lowering himself back down to kiss down your stomach, looking up at you through his thick lashes.

“Whatever you want.” You answer. Your sweet, sacred submission makes him close his eyes and breathe in.

Hold it. Not. Yet.

“You’re like an angel.” He breathes, making you shiver under the weight of the high praise.

He notices your reaction immediately, smiling to himself.

“So that’s it.” He presses a long kiss just under your belly button, bringing attention to how naked you are, and how naked he is not.

Your thighs squeeze together and your arms come up to cover your chest, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to keep it all out of view.

His hands are on your wrist and his body is crouched over yours again before you can blink. He pins your hands beside your head, looking down at you with some wild, unbridled kind of look in his eyes.

“You do not get to hide from me.” His shoulders flex as he pushes your wrists down into the mattress, earning a whine from you as the pressure starts to ache.

“You’re mine. That means I get all of you.” He bites the words off, but keeps his voice quiet.

You should be scared, crying even, but the only thing you feel is exhilaration, the ache between your legs and the fluttering of your heart as he overpowers you with just the look in his eyes and a few harsh words.

“Do you understand me?” He eases up on your wrists slightly, looking more stern, less unhinged.

“I-I do, I’m sorry.” You whimper out.

He considers you for a brief second, eyes growing softer as he watches the way your pretty lip trembles.

“It’s ok.” He releases your wrists and speaks gently, “You’re ok.”

The reassurances makes you dizzy, especially in contrast with how rough he just was.

"Hold still for me, angel." Then he’s back to mouthing at your skin.

His teeth meet your collarbone and your hands reach for his messy hair.

“There?” He asks against you, a smile in his voice as he lets his teeth gather your skin again. The spot he finds makes you dizzy, you feel the heat spread across your cheeks and the tips of your ears.

Tamaki is still stuck in his own chains, fighting against them as he focuses on the way you twitch for him, the way your body rolls when he bites harder.

So she likes it.

Your body heats up, it's all so overwhelming. It's so different from anything you've ever felt, and you can't believe it's with him.

Then his kisses get more sloppy, his teeth are sharper against you. He leaves you shining with his spit, painted in blooming purple and red bruises as he begins his journey down your body.

"Da-addy." You sniffle when he bites into the underside of your breast.

It doesn't feel loving, it doesn't feel passionate, it just feels rough.

"Hush." He mumbles against you, "If you can't take this I might as well stop now." He looks up at you, challenging you.

"I can t-take it, I can." You breathe, nodding, looking at him with begging eyes, "Please, don't stop."

He honest to god growls against you. You couldn't possibly know what you do to him, how sweet your willingness sounds, how beautiful you look laid out for him. He knows he should take his time, and he resents that fact. He almost resents you for being so sweet and needy. With all the things he wants to do to you, he almost, almost, wishes you had at least some experience. This makes you his completely, though, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything.

His hot mouth moves lower and lower until he's tonguing at your hip bone, pulling the skin into his mouth so he can work his teeth against it. He will mark you wherever he can, as long as you'll let him.

Your hips roll up against him, making him smirk at how needy you're acting.

"Ask for it." He whispers, hungry hands slide up the outsides of your thighs, "Ask for what you want."

His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, sending the breath from your lungs as he glares up at you. He lets his wet tongue loll out to give a teasing flick against the crux of your thigh.

You take a deep breath in and cling to the sheets for dear life, "Please, use your mouth on me."

He smiles so sweetly then, looking mildly amused.

"Here?" He goes back to that same spot, sucking and teasing, looking all too pleased with himself.

"Be specific, angel, tell me where you need me."

Tamaki knows for a fact that he didn't have to spend his time making you ask for things, he knows what you want, he knows how to give them to you. He could take whatever he needs, probably without much a fight from you, but what fun would that be? He would miss the pretty blush creeping across your skin, and the sweet little tears in your big eyes. No, he wouldn't be missing this, not for the world.

"I wanna feel your tongue, please, use your mouth on m-my cunt." You shiver, timid and uncertain about your phrasing.

It seems to do the trick though, because Tamaki's eyes nearly roll to the back of his head.

He answers with a low moan before grabbing you by the insides of your thighs so he can spread you open. Once the air of the room hits you, you're made painfully aware of just how soaked you are.

It makes Tamaki look like a wild man, all blown out pupils blushing cheeks.

Almost in slow motion, he presses his tongue into the spot right above your clit, making you whine and buck against his mouth.

"Needy little thing." He says, giving your thighs a gentle squeeze, "But I suppose I have teased enough."

Then he's on you, and the second his tongue meets your weak spot you know you're ruined. You know that not one person will ever hold a candle to Tamaki Amajiki.

He pulls away for only a second, just to whisper praises up to you, "Your cunt tastes like everything I've ever needed."

You huff at him in disbelief, not knowing what to say or do, heart soaring because of his confession.

Then he dives back in, and he gets sloppy with it, setting a pace that feels so good it aches. The heat spreads through every limb, and settles somewhere deep in your chest. Everything tingles and burns, and breathing seems nearly impossible.

Internally, Tamaki is raging. He’s so close to losing it, he feels himself slipping, your taste spreads across his tongue is the culmination of months of watching and waiting and wanting. He wants to drown in you, he wants to rip you to shreds. No more watching you through windows, no more fucking his fist while he wishes with everything he has that it was your precious little pussy. He has you now, spread open and vulnerable. He knows he could shove your face into the pillows and let loose on you, stuff every hole with an invasive tentacle, the thought makes him even more feral, it makes him work even harder as he eats you.

Every roll of his tongue against your clit makes you throb and buck, which makes him growl and push you down against the mattress. He's loud and messy, slurping and moaning, letting it drip down his chin and his throat, never once letting up.

Your head is thrown back against the pillows, eyes drilled shut. You know damn well if you saw him, you wouldn't last another second. He builds you up until your thighs are trembling and you're a whiny little mess.

Perfect.

Suddenly, the texture of his tongue changes drastically. It's much more slippery, and much thicker. Your head shoots up, and you nearly sob at what you see. Tamaki, with his eyes wild and his jaw dropped, is letting a wicked looking tentacle hang from his mouth.

His quirk.

He smirks up at you as the tip of it writhes against your clit, flicking and circling as he watches the tears start to fall from your face. You can't possibly keep up, you didn't know anything could ever feel this good.

You watch the suction cups ripple as he moves the muscle against you, then he does the unthinkable. He latches one of them onto your clit. Your eyes cross and you bring a fist to your mouth so you can bite on it and muffle your screams.

He hates that.

With another rumbling growl, he lets his hands turn to tentacles as well. You watch helplessly as he snakes them up your arms, ripping your hand away from your mouth so he can pin both limbs to the bed. The tentacles are strong, surprisingly warm, and so damn slippery.

It's hard to tell if you're close to the edge, it's felt that way the whole time, everything feels so hot and tight and good.

He smiles as you cry out and thrash against the bed, full of admiration for the usefulness of his own quirk.

“Too much! D-daddy, it’s too much.” You sniffle out as you feel a stinging feeling in your cunt, it’s not necessarily an unpleasant sting, but it’s too much.

He ignores your objection, choosing to simply suck harder at your overstimulated sweet spot. He revels in your pitifully low threshold, planning to do so much worse to your poor, inexperienced body.

The ache in your cunt continues to push the tears from your eyes, and eventually, drool from your mouth. The suction cup works dutifully against your clit, making you feel so overwhelmed you don't know if you can cum.

Then you feel the prodding at your entrance.

Then you really scream.

Holding that one little suction cup to your clit, he snakes the tip of his tentacle into your dribbling hole. He furrows his dark brows and moans against you when he feels how tight you are, desperate to feel the velvety walls around his cock.

"Holy fucking shit." You gasp.

He watches the dramatic rise and fall of your quaking chest, your baffled eyes trying to keep track of everything happening to your body, and he swears he falls even more in love.

You're so willing, so compliant, so at his mercy.

He crooks the tip of the tentacle towards himself just a bit, and it's like you've been struck by lightning. You cum hard, harder than you ever have. You're a mess of twitching limbs, shivering as your cunt clenches so hard your feel it in your fucking chest. You sob into the air, broken and tearful as he works you through it.

You feel the hold on your arms tighten as your body arches away from the mattress. As you feel every inch of you ignite, you know that you're ruined for everyone else.

As soon as you lower yourself so you're flat to the mattress, the tentacles around your arms slip away and turn back into his hands.

The one between your legs still plays with you a little bit, prodding at your clit, lapping up your mess. Tamaki laughs as you jump and twitch, whimpering and gasping as he milks your body for every after shock you can give him.

You watch him pull the tentacle back into his mouth, flicking it over his lips to gather your release before disappearing into his mouth. You watch his eyes flutter shut, you watch him shiver and you hear the sweetest little moan in the back of his throat.

“You’re pretty when you cry.” He mumbles, looking up at you with the most tender look in his eyes. It’s a harsh contrast with all the cum dripping down his chin.

“You move a lot, too. It’s fun.” He states, almost like some kind of twisted review, “I don’t mind holding you down like that.”

The drop in the tone of his voice makes a chill creep up your spine.

“In fact…” He lifts himself up so he can start to crawl up your body, “I really, really enjoyed it.”

You gasp for words, wind stolen from your lungs as he presses his messy mouth against your sternum.

“Something tells me you did too.” He whispers.

Your voice is finally found, somewhere deep in your chest, hidden and nearly forgotten, “What makes you say that?” You ask timidly.

He pulls his head up to look down at you with a confident smirk, “The mess you made.”

To prove his point, he swipes two fingers through your folds, gathering your creamy release before holding it up to the light. He looks so damn proud, like he’s showing off.

“Messy girl.” He smiles, as you watch him bring his coated fingers to his lips, sucking the sin off with a greedy pop from his lips.

“Oh, how selfish of me.” He sighs before grabbing you by the chin, “I should share.”

He pulls your mouth open then slowly leans over you so he can push the mess back through his lips. You oblige like a robot, stunned by the debauchery, letting him guide you through this act. He lets it fall from his lips slowly, creating a long string from his mouth to yours. The second it hits your tongue, something clicks for you. Something dark and smokey settles in your gut, something all consuming and blinding. It rids you of boundaries and reservations, it fills you with nothing but the man in front of you.

He watches you with a pointed gaze, shutting your jaw for you so you can swallow what he gave you.

“What do you say?” He asks.

You feel the burn in your chest, the embers in your skin, “More, please.”

“Fucking hell," The words tumble out as a breath mostly, "You want more?" He questions, grabbing you by the wrist so he can place your palm just above the waist of his pants.

You nod up at him, vision blurred by the heat of his skin against your palm.

"Then take it." He leans down to say it, biting off the words.

A challenge.

You can't possibly disappoint him, you can't possibly leave him wanting. Take it? How are you supposed to take it?

In a wild moment of confidence, mostly your body moving without the permission of your mind, you wrap your legs around his lean hips so you can flip him onto his back.

Your eyes lock the second you feel him pressing against you, hard and thick, and terribly intimidating in length.

He watches you for a moment, then hastily grabs you by the back of the neck so he can pull you down for another kiss. It's hot and needy, full of wicked want and unabashed selfishness. It tickles your ribs, creeps up your neck, and secures itself greedily around all of your common sense.

Tamaki had no intentions of letting you take anything, it's a game to him. He'll let you have your moment, let you feel like you have the reigns, but he'll take it right back. His has you under control, he vows that he always will.

Your chest flutters with a clawing, aching feeling.

More more more.

"Fuck me." It's a prayer, whimpered against his delicate lips, "Please, fuck me." You dig your hands into his hair, cherishing the sweet noises they leave him as you beg.

Under control.

"Tell me you need it." He sighs, answering your prayer by sending his hands down to work urgently at his belt.

"Tell me you need me."

You bring your face back from his just enough to look into his dark eyes, and you see tears welling in them.

He needs to feel needed.

"Please, I need it, I need you, Suneater."

Everything freezes for a brief second, the air thickens and his eyes darken as you wait with a held breath for his next move.

Then, everything is flying around you. You feel the bite of fingertips against your waist, your stomach hits the mattress, possibly the sound of his pants being taken off. Your senses are dulled by the raging swirl of emotions beating inside you as your hips are lifted up, and a hand shoves your face into the pillow.

"Who's your hero?" His voice is rough, his hand gathers your hair and cranks your head to the side, "Who is your fucking hero?" He's barking the words out now, harsh and demanding.

And holy hell does it get you going.

"You are! You're my hero, Suneater." You cry out, craning your neck to look at him.

You expected furrowed brows, a straight mouth and furious eyes. What you're met with is nothing of the sort. A soft pink blush across his cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears, tears wetting his cheek, and a quivering lip.

With your eyes on him, he makes a show of sliding his hand down his front so he can grab at his length. He lets it fall against your ass, heavy and painfully hard.

"Don't forget that." He says simply, sliding his thick head down through your slicked lips.

The contact makes you both shudder deep in your souls.

"Daddy, please." Your voice is pitiful as you fist the sheets and press back against him.

"So slutty." He muses, releasing your hair so he can run his nails down your back, "Poor thing, never been fucked, needs it so bad, doesn't she?"

You nod fervently and fuss as he presses his head against your tight hole. You tense and shiver, not at all prepared for what's to come.

"I need it, I need you, please please please." You have one thought now, no reservations, you need him.

"I'm gonna ruin this little cunt." He says, a warning tone in his voice.

The hand that was tracing your spine suddenly feels very cold and wet.

His damn quirk.

He takes his time, letting the thick tentacle slither around your waist. It wraps around you twice, teasing you with the pops of the suction cups, leaving pretty purple circles all over your abdomen.

He lifts you easily, pulling you up so your back is pressed against his chest.

"Ruin it, please, it's yours, I'm yours." You sniffle, looking down at your trapped position.

With a low, menacing growl, he sinks his teeth into your neck, and his cock into your heat.

Tamaki holds his breath, willing himself not to fill you up right this second. You're too damn tight, so warm and velvety. You're so perfect, and so completely his.

You sob into the air, hands reaching out to hold the headboard as you feel like you're being ripped apart.

"Oh don't scream, Angel, people might think something's wrong." His voice is shaking now, and the hold on your waist tightens.

You focus on relaxing, letting your walls lose their tension, but it's all fruitless. He's too big, he fills you too well, and all you can do is take it.

"Here, let me give that mouth something to do."

His other hand comes around to hold your throat, turning each finger into a tentacle again. It leaves you reeling and gasping as he presses further into you, wrapping what would be his middle finger around your throat. He wraps it around twice, like he did with your waist. The appendage comes up to rest its tip on your bottom lip.

The sensation makes you dizzy, especially when it finally snakes into your panting mouth. It doesn't really taste like anything, it just feels wet and slick, the texture of the suction cups is the strangest thing about it. He rocks his hips so gently, squeezing you tighter everywhere he's holding you.

You don't feel like a moth drawn to a flame, you feel like a moth caught in a spider's web. All tangled up, not willing to fight to escape, not even wanting to.

"You're so damn tight." He stutters out, pressing his hips flush against your own.

You cry out and gag against the tentacle stuffing your mouth, digging your nails into the headboard as he chuckles behind you.

"You're such a pretty little mess for me. Your cunt's already dripping."

You don't doubt it, it has to be with how badly your core aches around him as he stretches you.

Your thighs start to tremble as you wait for him to move, sniffling as the tears fall from your eyes and the drool spills from your lips.

A pretty little mess indeed.

Slowly, he drags his hips back with a hiss before pushing back in. He takes his time with it, building an agonizing pace that offers you no release. There's only the pressure, only your clit screaming for attention, only the maddening tease of his head against your sweet spot with every torturous push in.

"Fuck angel, I gotta break this pussy in, don't I?" His words pull another pitiful moan from you, nodding and whining is all you're capable of.

His picks up speed just enough to make you tense even more, still painful, still mind numbing.

"You look so fucking pretty on the end of my cock."

His words pour over you like hot wax, heating you up, making you drip. The heat seeps deep into your skin, making you squirm and clench.

He speeds his thrusting up slightly, then more, and more, and more, until you’re shrieking and choking against the tentacle stuffing your mouth. Your hands fly up to claw at it, wanting to tell him how it feels, wanting to thank him for the way he’s fucking you.

It’s still painful, each thrust splits you open with a sting, but it’s so damn good. The sharp stretching is absolutely spectacular, and it sends your brain into somewhere dark and smokey, it leaves you with a wide open feeling in your chest. It leaves you wanting more.

“What’s the matter, sweet thing?” He taunts, “Tell me about it, then, how’s Daddy make you feel?” He turns each tentacle back into a finger slowly, pulling out of your mouth, leaving you a gasping mess.

Through spit and tears, you praise him, words spewing out between moans as your body jolts from each punishing snap of his hips.

“So fucking good! You make me feel so good!” You cry, clinging to his forearm as he brings you closer to his chest.

The tentacle around your waist starts to slither down your stomach, “This isn’t even half of what I’m capable of doing to you,” The tip of it gives the hood of your clit a teasing flick, “-and you’re already such a slut for me.” His chuckle is dark and full as the tip of his skilled tentacle zeros in on your sweet spot, rubbing and wriggling against it until you’re screaming.

“Say it. Say you’re my little slut.” His words are a harsh demand against your ear, leaving no room for disobedience.

“I- f-fuck- I can’t! I ca-an’t!” You sob, not able to catch your breath between thrusts.

Tamaki eats that right up, swelling with pride as he fucks you speechless, delirious with the fact that he finally has your cunt gripping his cock.

Before he can bark another order at you, you finally pull the words out of your closing throat, "I'm your slut," You gasp as drool rolls down your chin, "I'm your little slut."

He throws his head back and throws everything he has into every thrust, his moans are obscene, high pitched and broken as he feels how hard you squeeze him when he speeds up the tip of his tentacle against your clit.

"Give it to me, I feel that greedy cunt tryin' to milk me, give me that fuckin cum." He huffs against your ear. Your entire body seizes up, shaking violently as ribbons of pleasure shoot through you. You pulse around Tamaki almost violently, earning some very rough sounding moans from him as he works you through it.

Your orgasm lasts for what feels like an eternity, you shiver with every throb of your walls. It possesses that same almost painful pleasure, and it's everything you've ever wanted. At some point, the tentacle around your waist turns to a hand, still absentmindedly rubbing you as you come down.

He lets your torso fall forward, leaving you bent over and exposed for him. His hands smooth over your ass, and you realize he's still so fucking hard.

"Can you take more, angel?"

You nod against the tear soaked pillow you've pressed your face into, not sure that you even can, but willing to try.

"Good," He bends down to press kisses into your spine as he pulls out, "'Cause you're going to."

He pulls out, almost full of regret, wanting to live the rest of his life buried inside you.

Now he can have some fun, mind cleared slightly by finally feeling you come undone around him. He's still hazy, still slightly frenzied, but less ravenous, less of a starved man waiting for his meal, more of a well fed man waiting for desert.

His hands hold your waist gently so he can guide you onto your back. You oblige, more than willing to let him have his way.

You finally get a good look at him, and you're astounded by just how pretty his dick looks. All pale and pink, swollen and shiny, it makes you dizzy with admiration.

"You're terribly beautiful." He whispers, cradling your waist so he can worship your stomach with soft kisses, "I don't believe you're even real."

Sweetness oozes through your tingling limbs, pouring over you like warm honey. His tender mouth brings you back down, soothes you into a state of catharsis. Your body settles, but your heart picks back up when his lips are on your hips.

Your eyes meet his, and you share the sentiment that he just might not be real. He pears up at you through a mess of indigo hair, eyes full of what you can only describe as devotion.

He explores your body with his hands, dipping his thumbs into every crook he can, palming handfuls of your plush thighs. He seems to have a soft spot for your hips though, pulling at your love handles, letting his breath speed up each time until he's panting against you.

With every pull of his hands, you bend for him, push into him, work with him. You both find a rhythm, falling into an easy dance of grabbing and needing.

"I want to keep you." He breathes, placing a hand on either side of your waist so he can lift himself over you, "I want to have you."

He gathers your legs while he speaks, hooking his hands under your knees so he can fold you up.

"You have me." You whisper, reaching out to lay your fingers on the sides of his ribs.

You watch his skin twitch under your touch, you watch his eyebrows sag into an almost heartbroken look.

He looks down between your bodies, quivering when he sees his heavy cock resting against your stomach. He feels so incredibly proud of you in that moment, for taking him so well, and asking for more.

She's mine. She said I have her.

The concept brings another wave of primal desire crashing down on his self control.

His fingers dig into your skin, biting at the flesh, spreading you open for him as he puts his weight on your legs.

You clench in anticipation, teased by the pressure of his hot length resting against you.

"I can take it." You say quietly, sliding your hands up his lean body so you can lace them into his inky hair.

He melts into your touch, stunned by your gorgeous submission.

"Fuck, angel." His words are shattered as they fall from his lips.

You reach down between your bodies and wrap your hand around his weeping tip. He trembles and hiccups as you push him down so he's lined up with where you need him.

"Please, I want all of it." m.

“Careful.” He pants, looking down at you with a warning in his eyes.

It doesn’t create hesitation in you though, only curiosity.

“We’re being careful now?” You tease, sliding him up and down your slit.

“You little devil.” He hisses, grabbing your wrist harshly, “You think you’re cute, don’t you?”

You freeze and blink up at him, once again shocked by his quick change in temperament.

“You wanna act like a tease now?” He questions, bringing your hand up so he can press it into the mattress with his.

“Did you find yourself a cute little attitude?” His voice drips with venom, it bites at your insides and melts your skin.

“That’s ok, angel.” He lets your hand go so he can press on the backs of your thighs again, successfully folding you completely in half, “I’ll fuck it out of you.”

Before you can breathe, blink, or respond, he’s splitting you open with a brutal pace. He laughs deep in his chest when you cry out, he mocks you when your hands fly to his abs in an attempt to slow his assault. A wicked smile spreads across his pretty face when tears stain your flushed cheeks once again.

“Cryin’ again so soon? Is it too much, baby? You need Daddy to slow down?” He’s testing you, only thrusting harder as he taunts you for your sobbing and moaning.

“No!” You gasp between tears, “Don’t stop, please, fuck me like that.”

“That’s my girl.”

His thrusts are ruthless, sharp, unforgiving. He rocks your body and the bed with each plunge in, headboard crashing against the wall. Each drive into you is enchanting, it teaches you something new, opens new doors, shows you a new, brilliant world of depravity. The way the pleasure shoots all the way up your spine with every drag of his cock, it’s something you want to feel until you die, you’d even be happy if this is the way you die.

You watch him disappear inside of you over and over, pulling out just as quick, covered in slick and sin. Tamaki is in his own feral world, watching your lovely face crumble and pout as he fills you. His hands are angry against the back of your thighs, nails digging in hard enough to bring little pearls of scarlet to the surface.

When you start to whine from the sting, he flashes you a lazy smile before stuffing his fingers into your mouth. He presses the blood covered fingertips into your tongue just enough to make drool spill from the sides of your mouth.

“Hush, you’ll learn to love it.”

His smile turns wolfish when he watches your eyes roll back. It’s all so black-hearted, it’s everything you’ve kept yourself from, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

You both throb and cry then, your bodies smack as they meet, obscene and wet as you chase your undoing. Tamaki knows he’s not going to last much longer, and he curses himself for it. He doesn’t want to stop, especially when you wince so sweetly when his thrusts are a little too deep. He wants to watch you suck his fingers forever, crying against his palm as he turns you into his perfect little slut.

“You’re gonna give me one more, aren’t you, angel? You owe me that, I saved your life after all.” He slides his fingers from your mouth, dragging your spit down your chin before grabbing you by the throat, “Answer if you can, I know it must be hard to speak when you’re getting fucked this good.”

His words drown you in lust, your hands claw at his back, painting angry red lines down the pretty porcelain canvas, “Take it! Fuck- Take it, Suneater, take it all.”

It’s not a demand, it’s a plea, it’s a craving formed deep within your freshly corrupted heart.

Your begging pulls desperate, whiny sounds from him. With his eyes screwed shut he lets the hand on your thigh manifest the tentacles in place of his fingers. He throws all of his energy into that, trying to stall the twitching of his dick as your hot insides massage him with their relentless pulsing.

“Are you sure about that?” He tests, letting the tentacles snake around your thigh before slithering down to where your bodies meet.

Immediately, one starts flicking at your clit, making your back go rigid as he grins down at his good work.

You wail his name, nails biting at his skin even more but he pays no mind. He has a mission, he’s going to take all of it.

He focuses on making his tentacles grow, two long enough to reach up your body and tug at your nipples, and one other snaking down through the mess you’re making to prod at your asshole. Your eyes widen with shock as your body ignites, it’s too much, it’s all too much. Every sensation is heightened, every poke and flick and thrust sends shards of pleasure flying through you, piercing you from every direction.

You let yourself cry completely then, throwing your head against Tamaki’s collar bone before sobbing into his chest. You know you’re cumming, you can feel it somewhere amongst all the other stimulation, but it’s nearly drowned out, and Tamaki is still fucking you just as hard as he was when this all started.

“More, you have more for me, I fucking know it.” He huffs as he finally pushes into your ass with the tentacle.

The ones on your nipples latch on with their suction cups as he fills you more and more.

“Give it to me, angel, give it all to your hero.”

That’s the final push, the last thing you need to send you into the most frenzied orgasm you’ve ever experienced. Your vision goes white as your body convulses, ripped apart by the flames of euphoria that turn everything you’ve ever known to ash. Somewhere in the distance you hear Tamaki praising you, telling you how tight you feel, how beautiful you look, how good you are for him.

It’s lost in the fray, though, all blurring together as you shake violently around him. The only thing that brings you back slightly, is the break in his voice when he sobs, “I’m gonna stuff that little cunt with my cum, I’m gonna make you mine.”

Your hand is at the back of his neck instantly, pulling him down for a messy, aimless kiss. His moans spill into your mouth as his hips falter, turning to slow, stuttering thrusts as he starts to pump his release deep into you.

“I’m yours - I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours.” You chant it against his lips as his tears fall to your cheeks, mixing with your own as you both shatter for each other.

Coming back down isn't easy at all. It's slow and needy, your hands still pulling at whatever skin they can grab, hips rolling against each other, trying with everything you both have to prolong that rapturous feeling.

Frantically, painfully, he pulls himself out of you. He slides his hot mouth down your body, nipping and sucking as he descends to your messy cunt. He spreads your legs wide so he can bury his face between them. He teases your clit briefly, but moves quickly to press his open mouth against your hole.

Your skin boils as you watch the nasty show. His eyes cross sinfully and flutter shut as he tongue at your well used pussy. When he pulls back, his chin is covered in some wretched mixture of your combined releases. He moves back up your body like an animal stalking its prey.

He grabs your jaw and you open so willingly. His mouth is on yours instantly, pushing the warm liquid onto your tongue with his own. It’s a spunky, intense flavor, almost overwhelming as he spreads it around your mouth. It creates a dark, blurry feeling in your chest, though. It makes you feel alive, it makes you want more.

He pulls back slowly, a thick string of saliva and sin connecting your lips as he pants down at you.

“You’re such a good little girl.”

His lips are everywhere, pressing against your cheekbones, your nose, your forehead. His hands return to normal so he can cradle your face. You both lay there, still joined, catching your breath.

"Angel?"

The tenderness in his voice pulls you back down to earth, and when you open your eyes, you find yourself lost in his. It’s a harsh but marvelous contrast with the sharp edges of his previous behavior.

"Does anything h-hurt?" He asks timidly.

The stutter is back, the anxious look in his eyes, the restlessness in his hands.

You reach out to hold his face like he's holding yours, "Tamaki, no, nothing hurts. You made me feel so good."

You don't ever want to be a source of hesitation for him again. You want to make it better. He's brilliant, he's brave, he saved your damn life. He doesn't need to be so scared around you.

"You're my hero, Suneater." You pull him down for a soft, intimate kiss.

He breathes out against you, more of his tears wet your cheeks but you don't mind.

He's allowed to feel this, he earned this.

When the kiss breaks he searches your face, waiting for you to laugh at him, to push him off, to change your mind.

You don't, though.

You stay there with him, loving him and full of him.

"And you're mine."

You both settle there, kissing skin that hasn't been kissed before, finding ways to make each other fall even more.

Tamaki tells himself he did the right thing. You don't ever have to know why Dabi chose your house to break into. You don't ever need to be told that he spent endless nights watching you from the window, because he has you know.

It would be wrong of him to tell you, you wouldn't understand it. It would break your heart and ruin everything. Then, it would get messy. You might try to run away, and that would mean he'd have to keep you in different ways.

He shakes the thoughts from his head. He can keep you like this, laid out and blushing for him, so soft and beautiful.

You belong to him now, and that's all that there is.

"Can I take care of you?” He asks softly, playing with the necklace he gave you as he gives you a shy glance.

“You just did.” You let yourself laugh a little as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“No, not like that.” He smiles softly, dipping down to kiss your neck so softly you almost can’t feel it, “Like this.”

He presses his lips against a mark you didn’t know he made, lingering for a moment as his eyes flutter shut.

“These say that you’re mine.” His thumb traces over one of the circular bruises on your ribs, “They say you have someone protecting you.”

The prospect makes your heart soar. He’s right, belonging to him means you’ll always be safe, you’ll always have somebody willing to fight for you, maybe even somebody willing to stay with you.

“This says that you belong to me.” He loops a finger around the delicate pearl on your necklace, pulling gently, not enough to make you go anywhere, but enough to make you feel the metal tug against the back of your neck.

‘You do belong to me, don’t you.” He asks, a wild, fearful look in his eyes.

You do, you just told him so, you just cried to him and vowed that you were his just moments ago.

“I do, I belong to you, I swear.” You reassure him, pulling a deep sigh from his chest.

You don’t understand the way he aches for you, the way he’s addicted to you. He was already hooked, from just glances and flighty touches. Now, having felt your soft skin, the tuck of your waist, having seen you cry and heard you call his name, he’s willing to admit his obsession.

He does take care of you, he does it beautifully. He carries you to the bathroom where he sets you on the edge of the tub. He fills it with warm, soapy water before picking you up bridal style so he can settle into the water with you in his lap.

Neither of you bother to turn a light on, content with the glow of the moon shining through the skylight. Tamaki paints your shoulders with soft kisses as he rubs soothing circles into your back. He takes his sweet time, wiping away the sweat and the tears, mindful of the tender spots on the back of your thighs.

“Beautiful, you’re so beautiful.” He sighs, “An angel, nothing less.”

You melt into him, lost in his praise, blinded by his devotion as well as your own.

Tamaki is just as lost, if not more, only becoming more possessive with every gentle touch, with every whispered adoration.

This is how it’s meant to be, and you don’t ever need to know how it all fell into place. He did the right thing, after all. This isn’t a problem, he’s in love. He’s in love and now he has you.

He intends on keeping it that way.

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danniburgh · 3 years

Text

Sins of the Flesh (priest!Dave York x f!reader)

Pairing: priest!Dave York x f!reader

Summary: His mind shouldn’t be on the new catechesis teacher as he cleaned the chalice after handing communion. His thoughts shouldn’t be on the young girl he knew for so long as he blessed the congregation and finished mass.

But you were different now. Something in you had changed. “Lord, have mercy on me.”

Word count: +10.9k

Warnings: religion! catholic religion to be precise, a lot A LOT of religious references and undertones (shot every time you find one lmao), age gap (around 15 years, reader is legal), smut, unprotected p in v, oral sex, breaking of celibacy vows!, catholic guilt, me making divine metaphors... i think thats it.

A/N: first of all this is all @asta-lily’s fault, she asked why no one had turned this man into a priest and i said “ok ill do it” so i did it, she is to blame. also i wanna say thanks to the pocket wives that encouraged this creation, sorry my loves, this isnt as slutty as yall thought lmao, and thanks to @alliterative-albatross who gave me all the bible verses that shaped this story as well. and i wanna thank the creator of this playlist that i listened over and over while writing this, and yeah, sorry for this monstrosity, love you <3

Masterlist // Read on ao3 // ko-fi

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓

moodboard by @asta-lily

“So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.”–James 4:12.

Sunday 1.

Like a piece in a puzzle.

That’s how you fit in.

There, sitting in the middle of a ten people polished wood bench, eyes on the four feet tall crucified Jesus on the wall above the altar, ready for the first sermon you were to hear after coming back home.

Home. That was the name.

That church felt like home.

You were enjoying sitting there, among the children you met a couple of hours earlier when you were introduced to them as their new catechesis teacher, breathing in and out the myrrh incense burning and invading the navel and your lungs, filling them with new energy, getting them ready to feel the love that you were sure was about to pour over you.

You heard your name behind you and you turned around to see Mrs. Stevens, one of your mother’s friends waving at you from two rows behind.

“Hi, honey!” she smiled at you and immediately you reciprocated “I heard you were in town, are you staying this time?”

You drowned a chuckle inside your chest and bit your lip, nodding. Just realizing you even had missed the venomous messages hidden behind the kind words mouthed by old catholic moms.

“Yes, Mrs. Stevens, I’m staying this time.” you replied, the woman lifted her hand a bit to the sky and you smirked to her.

“God bless, I bet your mom is delighted you’re here!” she muttered “I know she missed you terribly all those years you were in that school.”

“It’s called college, Mrs. Stevens,” you reminded the woman, and she rolled her eyes, making you chuckle softly again “but do not worry for my mama anymore, I graduated, I’m staying for good.” you told her, amused at the way she acted as if you staying at home was some godsend blessing.

The organ began to play on the upper balcony behind everyone and you saw two altar boys, carbon copy of each other, almost rushing their way to the altar, and behind them… Father Dave.

You smiled softly at the sight of him as he walked solemnly to the altar, his green chasuble flowing with the air and the movement, there was a thought you had all those years you were away from home because of school, always coming back to Father Dave York: the young priest that decided to stay in the first congregation he was sent to, the one that became a pillar to the community, the holy man that held the direct link to God and that gave you your first communion, the one you missed when you went to attend mass at the church near campus because no one gave the sermons like he did. For some reason, whenever you least expected, you thought of him.

You saw him putting his bible on top of the pressed cloth over the altar, kneel and kiss the center of it and cross himself. And then, after he closed his eyes and muttered a prayer to himself and to God, he opened his deep brown eyes and he looked at you.

“Let us pray.”

Your mouth dried when his deep timbered voice, with the help of a small microphone on his altar, wrapped the entire navel and you with it, he looked at you as he cleared his throat and he opened his arms to the sky, breaking eye contact with you.

“Lord, have mercy.” he murmured, and the congregation replied to his prayer as you struggled to find the air that had escaped your lungs.

As Father Dave guided the congregation through the sermon and through the prayers, all you could see was him.

In some way, there was something different about him you hadn’t noticed the last time you were there; you didn’t know if it was something about his deep voice as he recited the credo by muscle memory, the way he walked from one side of the sanctuarium to the other as he talked about the scripture or the way his hands wrapped around the chalice when one of the altar boys handed it to him as the organ echoed all around the navel, announcing the communion.

You stood up and walked to the back of the line and sighed as he lifted the wafer to the sky, and your eyes closed by themselves when he lifted the chalice and took a sip from the sacramental wine and locked your eyes on him as the line moved.

As soon as you were in front of him your lips parted and he smiled at you softly.

“The body of Christ.” he murmured, his deep brown eyes on yours as they filled with tears.

“Amen” and you opened your mouth.

He put the wined wafer between your lips and his thumb brushed with your chin, making your skin burn as you brought it inside of your mouth with your tongue and forced yourself to walk away from him.

As you returned to your seat with the gold cross that hung from your neck between your fingers and kneeled to pray for the forgiving of your sins, all you could think of was brown, deep eyes, and a soft, brief touch on your chin that burned more than the wax of a burning taper.

Dave felt it.

The way you looked at him throughout the entire service.

And it made him feel different.

When you rose from your seat to walk to the communion line, he saw the way your body moved, almost as if you were floating instead of walking.

He knew you were back, and his heart was happy you were finally home.

But he didn’t expect to see you so changed.

And he didn’t expect the way your eyes had made him feel.

Then you were in front of him, and he smiled because he remembered the first time he handed the body of Christ to you, years and years before.

And your eyes filled with tears as his breath hitched when your lips parted for him as he fed you the sacred soul of the savior.

God, have mercy.

His mind shouldn’t be on the new catechesis teacher as he cleaned the chalice after handing communion. His thoughts shouldn’t be on the young girl he knew for so long as he blessed the congregation and finished mass.

But you were different now. Something in you had changed.

Lord, have mercy on me. He thought as he entered the sacristy.

“Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy.”–Proverbs 28:13.

Sunday 2.

“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.” Dave heard your voice next to him and felt the air leave from his lungs. Not you, please God, not you.

You had been avoiding Father Dave for almost the entire week.

And you felt guilty about it.

You couldn’t even look at him in the eyes and not think about those dreams you were having about him.

If God was all love and perfection, why was he tempting you with dreams of Father Dave, his own servant, touching you in places you got shivers from, warming your body with his own, putting his mouth on your skin as you repeated his name like it was the sanctus?

Holy, holy, holy.

Why was God putting inside your head the sins of the flesh you had already asked forgiveness for? Why was he making you desire a forbidden man? A man that was not to be perceived as a man but as the representation of him on earth.

That morning, when you walked into the church to impart the catechesis class, you saw Jesus on the cross and you saw him look at you. And you knew he knew.

All omnipresent, all omniscient, all omnipotent.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Almighty God why were you thinking about him so much?

And the resolution in your mind was asking for forgiveness, you needed to pay penitence for those thoughts you knew you did.

But were you really about to confess to the man you had been dreaming about that he was invading your every thought?

“It has been two weeks since my last confession.” you mumbled, playing with your cross over your neck, Dave breathed in deeply and intertwined his hands on his lap.

“What are your sins?” he asked, closing his eyes as he remembered his own.

Dave was always a man of faith. It was in him from birth. He had been taught and trained to not fall into any temptations and so far his life had been devoted and dedicated to God and only to God.

But your eyes and the way you saw him, and the way your eyes made him feel when they locked on his, had him spiraling down into decadence.

Sometimes, dedicating his life to the word of the Lord made him forget he was still a human, he was still a man.

He had needs.

And he was alright before your eyes. Before your holy eyes were on him.

He had dreamed of them; he had thought of them; he had imagined them when he was in the limbo between sleep and awakeness.

He had dreamed of your lips, of your lips on his skin, he had thought of those lips that just looked like they needed someone to wet them and bring them back to life; he had imagined those lips of yours in places of his body he swore never to use.

He had prayed for them to disappear; he had begged to his God to erase those thoughts of his mind and free them from the temptation that was incarnated in you, in your body, in your eyes that denied to see him when you were in the same room, in your hands as you moved them to teach the children, in your legs trapped in the tight denim of your jeans, in your lips as you smiled to everyone but him, in your entire being, just by existing.

But they had increased, like a tamed flame sprayed with gasoline. He had a fire in his chest, one that was spreading through him as he was closer to you.

He needed them gone; he had sworn to never look at a woman as an object of desire; he had sworn on his life and he had vowed his commitment.

But you were there, kneeling next to him, separated by the thinnest patterned panel, holding the matches and the fuel.

“I’ve been having… improper thoughts, father,” you whispered, closing your eyes and left your necklace alone, clutching your hands together as tight as you could, you felt the aura change and the air grow thicker between him and you, “about a man.”

Dave opened his eyes at your confession and frowned. A man?

He knew you could tell him whatever you wanted; he knew he wasn’t allowed to ask in for details; he knew he was only there functioning as a link for you to get absolved from your sins and you were a young woman granted of free will and enough time to ask for absolution but he wanted to know; he needed to know who that man was.

“He is ol–older than me,” he heard you mumble and his hands tightened their grip on each other “and I can’t have him, father, I–I’ve been having these thoughts about a forbidden man.”

Dave’s mind went reeling, and he didn’t understand why. He didn’t like to assume about the life of his congregation members, he never did, but you were talking to him, after he had been dreaming about you for days, after you two shared something about desiring another man. And he was angry. He wanted to know who. He wanted to know who was keeping your mind the same way you were keeping his.

“He keeps me up at night, thinking of him, that is,” you whispered “I’ve–Jesus,” you let out the air of your lungs and Dave breathed in deeply once more “I’ve touched myself thinking of him.” you said under your breath and Dave felt his chest tug and turn.

“Does this man… know what he is causing in you?” he muttered with a frown and heard you sigh.

“No, I don’t want him to.”

“Alright, child,” he replied after a few seconds, and made a grimace of disgust at the pet name. It felt wrong, and he felt dirty with the word on his mouth, “do you repent these sins?”

“Yes, father, I do.” you closed your eyes at his words and wanted, for once, to be brave and tell him he was the one roaming around your mind. But it wasn’t fair.

“Please, recite in silence the act of contrition,” he muttered to you and you obeyed, feeling your eyes fill with tears.

As he waited for you to finish, he did the same on his side of the confession box

I’m choosing to sin and failing to do good.

“Amen.” you said, and he murmured the word to the ceiling.

“I think the word you do for the church,” he started, and you wrinkled your nose at the thought of him knowing it was you “the devotion you have, and how you repent, you don’t need to pay penance,” he muttered separating his hands and putting two fingers on the edge of the patterned panel that separated the two of you “through the ministry of the church,” your breath hitched as he whispered the words to you, and you saw with teary eyes the shadow of his fingers on the panel “man God give you pardon and peace,” you bit your lip and unclutched your hands, lifting your fingers and pressing it to his as two heavy tears fell from your eyes.

Dave felt the pressure of your touch and felt his hand tremble.

“And I ab–absolve you from your sin.” he said under his breath, pressing back.

“Thank you, father.” you whispered, not moving your fingers. You could feel the warmth of his through it and for a few seconds, you could also feel his eyes on your face.

Dave was the one to break the contact first. Absentmindedly brushing his fingers on his stole as he saw the shadow of you move and get out of the confession box.

He sat there, thankful you were the only one that morning and thinking about what you had told him.

A man of God, a man of hope. He had hoped, even if it was a sin and even if it was forbidden by pure creed and vow, that you were feeling the same as he was.

For a moment, he wondered about those thoughts… Were you thinking about that lucky old man touching you? Were you thinking about that man kissing you? What did that man look like? He wanted to be that man; he wanted to be the one whose touch you desired; he wanted to be that man you thought of as you sneaked your hand inside your underwear at night and brought yourself to pleasure. He wanted to be the one whose kiss you yearned for as your sex ached for attention; he wanted to be the one whose fingers you imagined as your own were buried deep inside you.

He fisted the flesh of his thigh over his dress pants and forced himself to stop thinking of you like that.

Dave stayed inside the confession box for twenty minutes more, praying for forgiveness, as he had done every night since you had been back.

At service, he saw you further back on the benches and he tried not to sneak glances at you as you sat there with your precious eyes on the crucifix above him, avoiding him at all costs.

And at communion, he tried not to brush your soft skin with his fingers as he fed you the wined wafer, failing when his knuckle brushed your cheek, his chest deflating when he noticed the way your face quirked in pain when you muttered Amen at him. Dave tried not to make anything of the fact that you kneeled more time than anyone else on the congregation after receiving the communion.

And when the service was over and he was alone in the sacristy, he tried and failed to not think about your skin, your eyes, your hands and your lips all over his neglected body.

That sunday night Father Dave masturbated in the shower thinking about you with your fingers deep inside you as his mind imagined it was him you thought of when you touched yourself in the darkness of the night and prayed for forgiveness.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like that.

“Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul.”–1 Peter 2:11.

Sunday 3.

“Father, sh–shit,” you bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning as your pointer and middle fingers circled your wet clit under the covers of your bed, your legs spread open, the soft cotton of the sheets grazing softly at your inner thighs as you imagined your fingers being one of Father Dave’s, as you imagined him next to you, with his arm above your head as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear and nibbled at your neck while his other hand played your clit like a master pianist. You imagined the hardness of his erection pressing patiently on the skin of your hip, wetting it with pre-semen, making your body burn with the feeling of his warm naked body beside you.

As your other hand played with your nipple you imagined his eyes taking you in, you imagined his lips on your skin, were they soft? you bet they were, and you bet as well his hand would be surprisingly rough for a priest.

“Jesus, fu–fuck.” the knot inside your lower belly exploded with the thought of him and his hand and his body and his lips and his priesthood and you came with a silent scream that made your ears ring for a few seconds and your legs tremble on the bed.

As you hazed out, ready to fall asleep again before your alarm went off to go to work at the church, you felt that familiar guilt cripple inside you and settle in your chest, warming up and leaning against your heart.

Dave was panting, he fisted his hand as he leaned on the tiled wall of his shower and his other hand moved desperately on his cock. The water was still warm, and he closed his eyes shut as he imagined it was your hand on him, giving him the pleasure he was seeking, as he imagined you were behind him, your lips brushing against the wet skin of his back, your free hand around his chest, gliding softly at his skin, making him whimper with your touch.

It was so early for him to be so hot over you again; it wasn’t good for him to give into these desires he had and had been praying so hard and so much to get rid of.

He didn't want to keep doing it and he surely didn’t feel good after it, but his body ached for you, his chest turned every time he thought about you, every time he saw you around the church, he felt the deepest, hottest desire for you and your hands and your body and he just couldn’t help it.

His hand gripped and pumped as fast as he could and he came with a silent groan, opening his eyes as he finished milking every drop of his seed and watched it mix with the shower water and go down the drain. Along with the decency and morality that was left inside him.

You heard your name being said, and you turned around as you finished picking up your things from the small desk you used to teach the catechism; you saw Mrs. Vega, the church custodian, a small, old lady that had known you forever, walking towards you.

“I’m sorry dear, but I want to ask you for something.” she said when you smiled at her.

“Of course, Mrs. Vega, what is it?” you put your small book inside your bag and hung it from your shoulders.

“You see, the little twins that help Father Dave are sick today,” you frowned at the mention of Father’s Dave name but let out a sad sigh at her statement, “and they can’t come help with the service, you’re the youngest of the teachers, could you do it?”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and felt your stomach churn inside you at the thought of standing next to the altar for a whole service.

“Me?” you asked, your voice in a high pitch as Mrs. Vega reached for your arm and tugged you to walk out of the chapel and into the navel of the church.

“Yes, dear, remember only the youngest get to do it.” she obviated, pulling you with her to the transept and up two steps to the sanctuarium “you only need to hand him the communion things and the holy water, I will prepare everything for you.”

“Why don’t you do it?” you asked in a whisper, not daring to take a step further closer to the altar. Mrs. Vega turned to look at you, and she narrowed her eyes.

“Since when are you shy, girl?” she asked with a teasing smile “I remember you singing in that kiddie choir we used to have and doing it terribly,” you chuckled at the memory and bit your lip “it’s only until the boys get that bug they got out of them.” she palmed your arm, and you breathed in deeply.

You looked up at the crucified Jesus above the altar and silently begged him for anticipated forgiveness.

Dave almost cursed when he saw you standing next to the altar as he walked across the navel.

The thought of who would replace Bobby and Chris on their altar duties didn’t even cross his mind as he was more worried about praying for the boys and sending them some sweets and pleading for the cleansing of his soul after the incident on his shower earlier that morning.

As he stepped up to the sanctuarium your eyes locked on his and he noticed you lips parting when he nodded his chin once at you, he noticed the way you swallowed as you nodded back and for a brief second, his imagination ran wild and made him believe you felt the same way as he did about you.

Even if it was the wrongest thing to think about.

It was like torture.

An hour of torture.

You got to see him kneel behind the altar and kiss the white pressed cloth softly as he stood, as you wanted and wished to be the altar’s cloth he pressed his plump lips on, he crossed himself and you mimicked his movements. And for a brief fraction of a second, as he opened his arms to the sky, you saw him looking at you out of the corner of his eye. And his eyes burned in your skin, they made you feel like your chest was aflame.

The communion time arrived, and he turned to you as you grabbed the chalice with the wine, his eyes locked with yours and you felt them weigh heavy on your body.

Dave couldn't concentrate, he felt on his side the way you were looking at him. It was heavily distracting for him to have you there, in his space, so close to him.

His hands brushed yours when he took the chalice from you and he stood there for less than a second, his fingers on yours. His soft touch and warm skin made your lips tremble with the emotion that touching him gave you. You felt a shiver go up and down your spine and the small hairs of your nape rose as his hands trapped yours.

You caught your lip between your teeth as he broke the contact and you knew he noticed; he looked at your lip as you bit it, and you blushed under his and God’s gaze.

You watched him and he felt you observing him as he prepared the wafers and wined them inside the chalice.

Your throat knotted when he lifted the cup to the sky and you felt your mouth dry as he brought the rim to his lip and his neck strained while he took a sip of the sacramental wine.

Because of the closeness you could see the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed the wine, you noticed a small drop of the crimson red liquid escape from his lips and the way he trapped it with his tongue settled deep inside your belly and leaked through your sex.

The pain of the greatest guilt you’ve ever felt in your short life appeared again and clawed its way inside your chest and to its now usual spot right next to your heart, you were struggling to keep your thoughts at bay; you were looking at Father Dave, right in front of you, doing what he dedicated his life to, and you were imagining him using his hands on your body instead of handling the instruments of the church.

Would he touch you like that? would he treat you with the same delicacy as he treated the body of Christ? would he caress you as softly as he did the chalice? would his mouth be warmed with your taste as it was by the wine he drank?

Dave turned to you and he saw you clutching your hands together, you walked towards him slowly, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you moved, almost as if air went through you, as if instead of giving steps your feet barely touched the floor because you were floating.

Everything slowed down, the music of the organ in the balcony, the prayers of the congregation, even the way he moved slowed down so he could focus on your face; on your sweet eyes, those that had brought into him the feeling of humanity, on your soft skin that had scorched his hand when he dared brushed his fingers on it, on your lips, those lips that he couldn’t pray out of his head.

He lifted his hand with the wined wafer, and even the way those holy lips of yours parted was slowed down.

Your eyes connected with his and Dave felt it in his body, deep inside his stomach, the temptation, the whispers of his mortal body as it reacted to your actions; he put the wafer between your lips delicately and pushed it inside your mouth, and then, as if by the grace of God in the heavens, you closed your mouth while he did it, and your lips wrapped softly around the pad of his finger as he pulled them away from you.

And just like that, the world started moving at its usual pace.

His skin tasted sweet. And you spent the rest of the service thinking about what other parts of him would taste like that.

Would his neck taste the same if you kissed it? would his chest feel like that if you nibbled on it? would his lips be that warm or would they be warmer?

Dave’s finger was burning.

He wanted to chop it off his hand just to stop feeling that flesh-eating guilt of enjoying your lips, your soft, warm lips around it, touching his skin, wetting it with the slick of your mouth.

After the service ended and Dave blessed the congregation, he saw you rush to the exit and he felt the sting of the guilt and the sadness. He wanted to talk to you and offer his apologies before you went home.

Sunday 4.

You weren’t there.

And Dave missed your eyes on him.

“I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.”–Romans 12:1.

Sunday 5.

As soon as you walked into the church you felt the eyes of all omnipresent beings on your body. As if the desire that burned deep inside your body left marks all over your skin, that could be visible for all those that looked carefully enough.

You heard your name behind you and jumped slightly, startled. You turned around and felt your blood fall to your feet.

“Father Dave,” you muttered, more to help yourself acknowledge the fact that there he was, standing in front of you, out of habit, his white tab collar was the only piece of his attire that hinted the fact that he was a priest. You tried to control your body as you felt instantly that flame inside your chest beginning to spread.

“You weren’t here last week,” he said, hesitating to step closer to you “are you okay?”

You nodded a few times and bit your lip to stop it from trembling.

“Are you sure?” Father Dave asked, and you dropped your eyes to the floor and saw him give a couple of steps towards you, your breath hitched and your entire body began to shiver when you felt his hand on your arm “I’m sorry.” he whispered.

“What?” you looked up to see him and you could notice his pained quirk, his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed and his lips… those lips you had spent all but two weeks imagining printing themselves and making marks on your skin, on a sad, downwards line.

“Can I please talk to you?” he said again in a whisper and you opened your mouth to reply, but only air came out, “please?”

His deep brown eyes were on yours and you felt your chest turn by the feeling of having him so close. You nodded, and he turned to the sides, as if he was making sure there was no one there, and guided you to the sacristy.

“What are you doing?” you asked, a bit altered when he opened the door and let you in first, followed you and closed the door behind him.

“I just needed to be alone with you for a minute,” he clarified, you let your eyes wander around the small space where he got ready every day for the services instead of letting them settle on him, because you knew being that close to him wouldn’t help your situation at all “I wanted to apologize.”

You frowned and looked at him. He had his back almost glued to the door and his hands together, his thumbs fidgeting with each other.

“Apologize for what?” you muttered, and he sighed.

“I’m–I make you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry.”

Dave felt stupid telling you that, but it was his truth; he spent every free moment of his days when you weren’t near him thinking maybe it was because of him. It would make sense, that you didn’t want to be there because you didn’t like his closeness, that you didn’t want to be there because he was taking advantage of his position to steal glances and give furtive touches.

He understood, but you were an excellent woman, devoted and committed to the congregation, and he knew he needed to stop or you would leave and he would never see you again. And he couldn’t have that.

“You aren–you…” you babbled, and then the look he gave you made you lose your words.

His eyes were all over you. And you could feel them on your skin, how they took you in, how they navigated through your body and every inch of you was immediately on fire.

Then he looked at your face and you swore you could see in his brown eyes the deepest form of devotion there was. And your mouth was agape and your eyes filled with tears and suddenly he was in front of you and his hands were orbiting your face.

“Can I touch you?” he said, and you nodded.

He cupped your face, and you felt his warm, rough hands scorching your skin as you closed your eyes. His warmth started mixing with your own and you could feel him inside you already. It was as if everything you needed in life was already there.

“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” you whispered, closing your eyes as his fingers started caressing the skin of your face, tracing your features “I swear you don’t”

Dave let out a sigh when his thumb traced the edge of your lips and he so wanted to lean down and take them in his. There had been so long since he last kissed someone and he, for a split second, forgot everything about him and the only thought in his mind was you.

“I don’t?” he asked under his breath as a tear rolled down your cheek and he brushed it off with his knuckles, you shook your head and opened your eyes and he felt his heart fill with the purest love he had ever felt in his life “you swear?” you curled your lips up and nodded twice.

“Can I tell you something?” you muttered, looking up at him and losing yourself in the depths of his brown eyes.

“Always.”

You allowed your hands to slide to his shoulders and you let out a relieved sigh. They fit perfectly.

“Yo–you are…” he nodded his chin, his hands still cupping your face softly as his eyes studied your face, you let out a trembling sigh and grabbed as much courage as you had left within you “you are the man I’ve been thinking of all this time.”

Dave widened his eyes and the movements of his hands stopped, he looked at you, searching for any hint of mischief or lie, searching for something that could tell him you were lying, that you were playing with him. But there was none.

“That’s why I wasn’t here last week,” he heard you say as he felt his heart burn with the flames of his desire and love “I was embarrassed after what happened at the communion.”

You looked at him for a second, waiting for the rejection, waiting for him to tell you what you already know, that he can’t for you what you wanted him to be, that he can’t give you what you wanted as his duty was with God and not with the mortals, let alone with a woman.

Father Dave had resigned to the pleasures of the mundane world; you knew that, but you also knew he deserved to know, even if nothing would happen.

“Am I?” he asked you, bewildered after such confession, you nodded and moved your hands to cup his face, a gesture that made him close his eyes. You wondered when was the last time, if ever, he had been touched like that “we can’t” he replied, opening his eyes and leaning in to you.

You could feel his breathing mixing with yours as the implications of his words fell on you.

“We can’t” he repeated, pushing his forehead to yours as you trembled under his touch.

“You want to?” you asked him and Dave asked for guidance in his mind as you started crying and wetting his hands. He nodded, and you sobbed.

“I can’t” he whispered, and you shook your head as he looked at you pouring your feelings from your eyes.

“Kiss me.” you pleaded, looking into his brown, deep eyes. Making him frown.

“What?”

“If you’re not gonna give me anything, at least kiss me.”

His face quirked from confusion to pain in an instant, and you gripped the hold on his face.

“Please, Dave.”

Dave sighed at the way you whispered his name without calling him a father, and deep inside him he was grateful. With you he didn’t feel like a man of god, with you, letting him touch you and touching him back, he only felt like a man. Like the man he never got the chance to be.

“I–I” he started, and you shook your head. Dave looked into your eyes and all the air he had stored in his lungs left his body in a hurry, you were the most precious being he had ever seen, and for a second, he wanted nothing but to make worth the fact he had you in his hands “shit.” he said under his breath.

Dave brought your face up to him and printed his lips on yours, stealing the little air and the close to no coherence you still had in you. You let out a soft moan out of the surprise and out of the feeling of your entire body warming up to his temperature.

His lips were as soft and as wars and better than you had imagined, they were a bit dry and hesitant on yours, but the contact of them with yours made you feel like you were floating away from the realm of the living.

Dave didn’t want to stop kissing you. He didn’t remember the last time he had kissed a woman, and in that moment he wasn’t kissing any woman he was kissing you; the precious being that had been in his mind for weeks and that had never left.

Unsure of his movements, he let you take control of the contact and soon enough you were sliding the tip of your tongue along the seam of his lips, Dave let out a surprised grunt and opened his mouth slightly of you, and you took his lower lip with your mouth. And he let you kiss him all you wanted, enjoying the contact of your slow, wet, warm lips on his less experienced ones until he was sure his lungs were screaming from the lack of air.

When he broke the kiss, he left a small one on your forehead and pressed his lips there and you closed your eyes to feel him settle inside you

“I’m sorry.” you whispered to his neck. And he nodded slightly.

“Me too.”

“But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”–Matthew 5:28.

Sunday 6.

Your knuckles grazed softly with the sacristy door and you heard the muffled noise of the latch and the door opened.

“Hi,” you smiled and Dave looked at you up and down “got your text.”

“Come in.” he motioned his hand for you to hurry and you turned your head to both sides and walked into the sacristy, closed the door behind you and slid the latch.

Immediately after the door was locked, you felt his hands on your waist and his chin on your shoulder.

“This is why you texted me?” you teased and he moved to let a kiss on your jaw.

“I missed you.” he muttered and turned your body around for you to face him.

“You didn’t.” you smiled at him and wrapped your hands around his neck, grateful for the apparently deliberate choice of him to take off his tab collar.

“Yes, I did, I missed you all day.” Dave leaned towards you and took your lips in his, already knowing, after less than a week’s practice, how you loved being kissed.

His lips were as warm as they always were, his tongue barely present if not just to taste the sweetness of your lipstick, his hands always steady on your waist, and at the end, his forehead on yours, just taking in your breaths with his.

“Mass starts soon.” you said, and he nodded, sliding his hands to your middle back to wrap you closer to him.

“I know.” he left another brief kiss on your lips.

“You gotta get dressed.” you murmured against his lips.

“I know.” he muttered back and kissed you again.

“Want me to help?” you asked under your breath, just for him, as if you saying it as low as you could would stop God from listening.

“Yes, I would love that.” Dave replied and gave into another deep kiss that stole both your breath and made you want to stop the time so you could kiss until your lips fused together.

“C’mon you need to get ready.” you broke the kiss and stepped away from him, making him smile. You wandered around the sacristy and found his tab collar. You sighed and took it in your hands.

Dave looked at you and noticed the way you looked at the soft plastic piece, he walked towards you and raised his hand to grab yours. As you felt his hand on yours; you turned your head to look at him and smiled softly, and you moved your hands, raising them to carefully lift the collar of his shirt and clasp the piece around his neck.

“You okay?” he asked in a whisper, you nodded and bit your lip at the sight of him in front of you.

Dave moved and walked to the small table against a wall with a large bowl of water and you gazed at him as he washed his hands and whispered a few words. You leaned onto the wall just looking at him go to a small cabinet near the opposite corner and took a white, folded linen garment, which he unfolded and you recognized as the long robe he used under all his attire.

He slid it off and whispered another prayer again as he let it fall and graze his ankles. His eyes went to you and you smiled at him, he next grabbed a green square that you also recognized and you walked to him and took it out of his hands.

“Let me do it” you whispered, and he nodded, you unfolded the long stripe that was the stole and found its middle, Dave crouched a bit to help you and you let it fall around his neck over his shoulders.

“Return to me the stole of immortality,” he whispered, looking at your eyes, your throat dried at the deepness of his voice “which I have lost in the sin of my first parent and although I, unworthy,” he continued and took your hand in his “approach thy sacred mystery grant to me everlasting joy.”

You gripped his hands and felt your throat knotting around itself.

“Why are you praying to me?” you asked under your breath. He cupped your chin with one hand and brought you close to his face.

“You’re holy.” he whispered and left a soft kiss on your lips.

“Stop it.” you chastised him and he shook his head, giving you a soft smile that you reciprocated immediately.

You turned to the table and saw a long, golden cord and you took it.

“Not that one.” he muttered, and you frowned.

“Why not?” you saw him taking a deep breath as he took it from your hand and left it back on the table.

“The cincture… it means chastity and continence.” he replied under his breath and you let out all the air of your lungs as he took his chasuble and put it on without looking at you.

“Dave.” you called, and he lifted a hand to you as he said the last prayer. When he finished, he looked at you and as if he read your mind, he smiled at you and shook his head.

“Don’t,” he whispered, taking you again in his hands and pulling softly so your head rested on his shoulders “don’t apologize please.”

“I need to,” you mumbled against the light fabric of the green chasuble “I’m keeping you from your vow.”

Dave grabbed your shoulders and pulled you away from his body, his hands slid to your face and you gripped his wrists as he brought your face to his.

“You’re not doing anything, my love,” he muttered the last words directly on your lips as he stole a few kisses from your trembling mouth “you’re perfect,” he panted out and you shook your head “I’m doing this because I want to, please understand it,” he kissed you again, a bit more desperately “you’re the most divine creation I’ve ever laid my eyes and hands upon,” he whispered rapidly on your lips “and I want you to be mine.”

You gasped as the words left his mouth, and he gazed at you.

“Dave...” you started, but he didn’t let you finish, he wrapped his arms around you and brought your body to his, tightening the embrace as he thought of the implications of what he just asked.

Dave lifted his eyes to the ceiling and for the first time in years, with you slowly wrapping your arms around his waist, exactly over the place the cincture was supposed to go around, and the sweet aroma of your perfume inundating his senses, he felt really close to heaven.

“I want you to be mine too.” you whispered into his ear, and he smiled, leaving a kiss on top of your head.

“How beautiful and pleasant you are, O loved one, with all your delights!”–Song of Solomon 7:6.

Sunday 7.

You stirred on your seat again, the organ was playing the latest song before Dave would bless the congregation and wrap up the service and you were nervous.

You glanced at the crucified Jesus above him and you felt his eyes on yours; you felt him shove his holy hand on your chest and as the last notes of the song inundated the navel, you felt your throat sting with the green tint of your deep guilt, but at the same time, the rest of your body drown with the red warmth of your love and desire for Dave.

Is it worth it? you heard inside your head and your immediate response was yes.

Eternal damnation in exchange for a few hours of love. It was condemnedly worth it.

The service was over and you stood up with the rest of the congregation; you talked with a few people on your way out of the church and slowly and patiently you waited for everyone to disperse.

You walked around the gardens outside the church and slid between the gate that marked the beginning of Dave’s small house inside the church grounds. You rummaged around your small bag and pulled out the key he had given you earlier and with nervousness and the familiar guilt settled next to your heart; you let yourself into his house.

You turned on the lights. The space wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small and everything around smelled like him. For a priest’s home, the place lacked religious imagery, and you automatically chastised yourself for thinking about his priesthood again.

You sat on the loveseat next to the door as you waited for him and got dragged inside your head again; you talked about doing that throughout the week and you had agreed it was something you both wanted. But your head sent you through an unwanted train of thought and you sat there, thinking about the future. Something you hadn’t talked about.

After all, he would still be a priest and you would still be a young member of his congregation. You could spend time with him and let you love him and let him love you as much as you two wanted, but in the future… what else was there for you?

You could never ask him to leave his habit for you, you could never ask him to leave his life for you, you could never do something like that to him. But you were unsure if something like that had any other path but failure.

The door opened and there he was, unclasping his tab collar and dropping it on the end table as you rose from your seat and walked to him. He smiled at you and his hands found his place on your waist.

“You’re here.” he said, not surprised but relieved.

As he took off his attire in the sacristy and walked to his house from the church, he had a few minutes to think about what he was about to do. He didn’t allow himself to overthink it because if there was something he knew was that he wanted it; he wanted it more than he had wanted anything in his life. He couldn’t explain it even if he tried, but he knew there was something about you that made him feel human, there was something about you that made him feel like he belonged somewhere, maybe the way you talked to him, maybe the way you kissed him, maybe the way you always seemed to understand the moral and spiritual dilemma he was in. He didn’t know, but he knew that he loved you, even if he wasn’t supposed to, even when he wasn’t allowed.

And as he thought of it, love was one of the laws of the God he represented, and he felt it deeply.

“I’m here.” he pulled you to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and nodded.

“Thank you.” you closed your eyes and bit your lip, shaking your head at him.

You felt his lips on yours as they re-discovered your kisses and his hands roamed to your middle back to press your chest to his.

You were amazed by how fast he had learned how you liked to be touched, how you liked to be kissed and caressed, as if he was just trying to commit to memory everything you ever wanted and he wanted to do it to you to please you.

Dave slid his hands from your back down to your hips and moved you softly to the side, without breaking the kiss he snaked his hands to the back of your thighs and lifted you. You smiled in his mouth and wrapped your legs around his waist as he walked to his bedroom.

When you crossed the doorframe you started leaving small kisses on the skin of his neck and he sat on the edge of his bed with you in his lap, you were already feeling the hardness growing inside his pants and his hands started grazing up and down your thighs as he let you taste his neck how you best pleased.

Dave was in a haze. He understood then the power of physical touch combined with deep love; it enhanced the sensations, the flame inside his chest was burning him from the inside out with a deep desire he was sure he had never felt before, and you were there, moving slowly on his lap as you devoured the skin of his neck and kissed slowly around his jaw.

“Dave,” you whispered as you licked his earlobe and pulled out a shiver from him, he hummed in question “touch me.”

He didn’t hesitate on questioning where, his hands roamed all around your body, they were big and warm and they were rough; you cupped his jaw with both hands and took his lips in yours with a wet, open-mouthed kiss that he followed as his hands snuck inside your shirt and you moaned softly at the feeling of skin to skin.

You moved out of his lap and stood up in front of him, Dave let out a soft whine at the sudden loss of your weight on his body but stopped when you moved his legs open and stood between them.

“Take off my shirt, please.” you told him, not in an order but he obeyed, he grabbed the hem of it and lifted it, you raised your arms and felt his lips on your rib side as you finished taking it off and dropped it on the floor behind you.

Dave put his hands around your torso and licked your skin experimentally, which made you gasp at the feeling of his wet tongue against your skin and he smiled to himself, doing it again and nibbling on the same spot softly.

His hands slid to your waist and without being told to he unbuttoned your jeans and dragged them down slowly, his eyes directly on yours. You smiled at him with your reddened, kiss-swollen lips and he felt your smile settling inside his lower belly, his cock twitching inside his pants.

You put your hands on his shoulders as he helped you out of your shoes and jeans and when you were there, standing in front of him only in your underwear, he swore there wasn’t anything more divine than your body.

You sank on your knees and your hands landed on his thighs, Dave’s throat clutched and his chest turned as you smiled at him and your hands slid to his belt, you raised your eyebrows as if asking for permission and he nodded a few times, leaning backward into his hands to give you space for you to do whatever you wanted to him.

You unbuckled his belt and opened his pants, his breath hitched when your fingers hooked to the hem of both his pants and his boxers, and then he lifted his hips for you to pull them off him. Dave smiled when he saw you bite your lip at the sight of his hard cock resting on his abdomen. It did something unexpected on what he thought was his dead ego, but he loved the way you looked at it.

“Take off your shirt.” you said and again, without it being an order, he obeyed. Unbuttoned it as quickly as he could and slid it off his shoulders as you leaned over his lap and took his erection on your hand, your thumb grazing softly the tip and he threw his head back between his shoulders.

“Oh, my love.” he sighed out as you started pumping slowly and when he closed his eyes, you licked the underside and wrapped your lips around the tip, making him gasp.

You took it slowly, enjoying the taste of his pre-cum as it came out of him, pumping the rest you couldn’t fit inside your mouth with your hand.

Dave forced his eyes open and moved his head down to watch you, he shivered when he found you already looking at him; he moved his hand to your face and with his knuckles caressed your cheek, making you smile with his cock inside your mouth.

For him, looking at you on your knees between his legs was like looking at a sacrosanct painting; your lips around him taking as much of his length as you could, your saliva dripping from his dick to your hand, bobbing your head up and down as your eyes, those holy eyes that never left his, it was a pleasure he never thought he would get in his earthly life.

He felt himself close to cumming, and he pushed your head softly upwards, you rose from your knees and clashed your messy lips onto his and he wrapped his arms around your waist, his large hands roaming around the skin of your back. His fingers played with the back of your bra and he broke the kiss for a few seconds to unhook it and help you slide it off, you smiled when he sighed at the sight of your breasts in front of his face and he pulled you flush against his head, taking a nipple in his mouth.

The warmth of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue around the soft skin of your nipple made you cry out his name softly and arousal gathered between your legs. One of his hands rested on your other boob and kneaded delicately as you fisted his hair in your hand. Dave moved his mouth to your other nipple and lapped at it before trapping it inside his mouth, you pressed his head to your chest and let out a moan when his teeth grazed your nipple as he released it.

“I wanna taste you.” he muttered against your boob and you smiled at him, nodding.

He moved you softly to lie down on the bed; the sheets were cool and soft and he stood on the edge, taking you in again, studying your body.

He leaned down to you and you opened your legs to make space for him; he hovered over your body and kissed you again, softly, as if you were back in time to the first kiss he gave you in the sacristy, as if he wasn’t about to devour your body.

His kisses traveled from your mouth to your neck and your chest, he left one in each nipple, making you laugh, he left a trail of them over your belly and one over your belly button. As he kissed your abdomen and your thighs, you looked at the ceiling and you smiled at whoever was watching.

Dave took the hem of your panties on his fingers and you lifted your hips for him to slip them off you, you lifted your legs and he unhooked them from your ankles, grabbing your calves and opening your legs again. He gulped when he saw your wet, expectant pussy right in front of him and looked at your flushed face. He leaned down and left kisses around your thighs without breaking eye contact.

“Guide me.” he whispered and left a kiss right over the hood of your clit, making you moan.

You nodded once, and he looked at your pussy, opened the lips gently with his fingers and blew on your slick folds, making you shiver. He flattened his tongue and licked from your slit to your clit, tasting your arousal, moaning at the richness of it.

You slid your hand to your clit and looked at him.

“Here.” you mumbled, circling a few times to show him how. He had told you he had sex before his ordination, because he didn’t want to go into his holy orders without having experienced it and wondering for the rest of his life what he had missed, but he said it wasn’t as good as he thought it would be and before you, he thought he would never know. So you had to show him what you wanted and what you liked because his experience wasn’t vast.

Dave did as you showed and you moaned out loud, the pads of his fingers were warmer and bigger than yours and he was handling you so delicately you were already on edge.

He kept licking and circling your clit and then, without a second thought, he moved his fingers away and started circling your clit with his tongue.

“Oh m–my god,” you fisted his hair, pushing his face into your pussy and he pressed your hips onto the mattress, looking at your face with your mouth opened in pleasure and your eyes closed shut “Dave ke–keep doing that baby,” you pleaded and he did it, and started playing the pad of one of his fingers on your slit, making your hips buck slightly he saw you pant and smiled when you slid your free hand to play with your nipple so he added a second one to play with your entrance “inside, put them inside.” you said under your breath and he pushed his fingers slowly inside your cunt, making you let out a long moan of his name, he started pumping and curling his fingers inside as he had imagined you doing it all those weeks ago while touching himself in the shower and closed his eyes to hear you moan his name as he brought you closer and closer to pleasure.

He moved his fingers faster inside of you and hand fisted and pulled his hair as your moans became tamed screams and he thought of them as the most pious symphony that he and only him had the sacred pleasure to hear.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulders as you felt the knot inside your belly explode from his ministrations and you chanted his name over and over as he worked you through your orgasm. You panted for a few seconds and opened your eyes to the sight of Dave licking his fingers clean. You smiled at him and released his hair to motion him to come to you; he hovered over your body again and you put your hand on his nape to bring him to you; you moaned softly at your own taste and you felt it smile on your lips.

“What?” you asked in a whisper.

“Did you like it?” he asked back on your lips, you nodded and cupped his clean-shaven jaw, leaving a deep kiss on his lips.

“I loved it,” he smiled, and you wrapped your legs around his waist and felt his cock brushing lightly against your folds. “make love to me, Dave.”

You saw his smile widen, and it was his turn to nod to you, he kissed you again while his hand worked on aligning himself to you; he slid the tip through your folds and you gasped on his mouth when he found your entrance and started pushing in.

He did it slowly, no rush; he wanted to feel you in every inch of his cock; he wanted you to feel him and every ridge and vein of him as he found his home in you.

You nipped at his lip as he bottomed up and smiled when he stayed there, inside you, enjoying the wait for your body to acclimate to his, you looked into his eyes and you felt it.

You felt how you two fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

As if his body was made for you and your body was made for him.

It felt right.

It felt sacred.

Dave started moving at a calmed pace and you with him, quickly finding a rhythm where your hips moved almost in unison and he thrusted into you deeply every time he moved. He was supporting his weight on one arm next to you while the other gripped your hip and helped you with the tantalizing dance you both were having.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck when your hands moved to his back and you pulled his body down to yours, his chest gliding yours and his hips circling as he thrusted faster into you.

Dave moaned into your neck when you scratched his back as his thrusts became pounds.

“Harder, please, baby, harder.” you whispered into his ear and he listened, driving into you as fast as his body allowed, the noise of his skin clashing with yours and the wetness of you leaking around his cock flooded the room and his moans grew louder and you dug your nails into his skin chanting his name as you got closer and closer to your second release.

“Yo–you’re a goddess,” he muttered into the skin of your neck as his cock grazed your cervix, his hand wrapped around your hips and he lifted your ass for him to thrust deeper, making you moan his name loudly “you’re m–my go–goddess.”

You slid your hands to his ass and fisted his buttcheeks, pushing him further into you.

Dave felt his orgasm closer and closer every time he drove into you and your warm walls started to clench around him with the closeness of your orgasm, he nibbled the skin of your neck and clutched his eyes shut tighter when his body started to stiffen as he pounded into you; he muttered your name a few times like a prayer he never knew he needed to make, and it sounded right, your name in his voice as he drove himself and you to climax, his own name on your sweet voice as you begged him for everything he had in himself, it was all right, it was all correct, there was nothing wrong, how could he had felt so guilty about it when it was the most perfect, most righteous, most sacred, most heavenly action he could do.

You in his arms, your hands on his body, his cock inside your cunt, you wrapped around him begging him to cum inside you, everything about it was all he could have asked for to feel like he was in heaven. He had almost said no to feel it, and he bursted inside you at the same time as you broke in pieces around him, thinking that he would rather live his life with you around him than his afterlife in heaven.

“I love you.” he muttered against the skin of your neck and you opened your eyes after riding the high of your orgasm and looked at the ceiling.

You frowned when you heard his words and when you remembered what he said to you before he came, and as you turned to the side to see him that red warmth you had felt earlier disappeared almost completely and the bright green taint of the deep guilt inside you washed over your body and your soul.

He looked at you and narrowed his eyes. His expression changed as he realized you weren’t going to answer his confession.

“Dave,” you whispered and his face changed, his brow furrowed and you saw his jaw tighten “what did we just do?”

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wolferine · 3 years

Text

Unforgivable - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: When the reader loses their temper, it causes them to commit an act they can never take back...

Warnings: Violence, blood, torture, death

Word count: 2372

Part 1

Tags: @yeetus-thyself @phoenixofash @lilclownx @yeeterthekeeper @alessiapn @diaryoflife

AN: Please read to the end before you come after me. :)

Everything is a blur. The last thing you remember is cradling Natasha in your lap and seeing the pain of betrayal in her eyes. You did this to her. You couldn’t control your anger and now she had a bullet—shot out of your gun—in her back. You hurt her and there was no way you could ever forgive yourself for that.

You finally let Tony get close enough to take care of her, because you realized you don’t deserve her anymore.

You run away from the Avengers Tower, your leg slowing you down, but you don’t care. Each step feels like a knife rubbing against your bone, but even that’s not enough to distract you from the pain in your chest. It feels like someone has torn you open, ripped your heart out of your ribcage, and thrown it into a bonfire.

But you have no one to blame than yourself.

Tears stream down your face as you stumble through the streets, eventually finding some privacy in a nearby forest. Your sobs echo through the trees as you crawl hand over hand, your uniform shredding open on bushes and branches. The trickle of a creek calls to you and you dunk your bloody hands in the freezing water, desperate to wash yourself of your failures.

You can’t believe what you’ve done.

The scene of Natasha falling to the floor plays over and over in your head and you would pay anything to unsee it. You curl into a ball, wiping your nose on your knees. You deserve all the pain and misery for your actions. You’re so caught up in your head, thinking about all the ways you can punish yourself, that you don’t notice the group of men sneaking up on you from behind.

“Over there! Over there!”

“By the creek, see?”

“Wait—that’s an Avenger?”

“Looks like someone had a bad day.”

“Hey, Y/N.”

At the sound of your name, you finally lift your head, only for the butt of a shotgun to slam into your face. Your nose breaks and blood fills your mouth. You turn away, not even interested in protecting yourself. If they killed you, you would thank them.

“Aw, come on. At least give us a reaction,” someone says.

The shotgun butt smashes against the back of your head and you wouldn’t be surprised if it cracked your skull. Someone kicks your leg where you were shot, and you bite your lip to hold back a scream.

“Well, this is anti-climactic.”

“Hey, if it makes our job easier, I’m not gonna complain.”

“I still think Hammer’s weird for wanting Y/N over the other Avengers.”

“Given the circumstances, he couldn’t really be picky—”

“Stop standing around and get to it!” someone yells.

The men surround you, punching and kicking every inch of you. The bulletproof vest of your uniform does little to lessen the impact of their blows. You feel bruises forming along your ribs and your rattling teeth bite your lips bloody. It doesn’t take long for you to black out and the peace is blissful.

***********************************************************************

Sometime later—you have no idea how long—you jolt awake, finding yourself strapped to a metal chair in the middle of a dark, concrete room. A man in glasses and a gray suit with white gloves stands in front of you.

“Hello, I’m Justin Hammer,” he says, offering a hand, then withdrawing when he realizes your arms are tied to the chair. “Sorry, force of habit.”

You stare at him. Your tongue pokes around the inside of your mouth and you notice some teeth are missing. There is a painful crick in your neck every time you try moving your head and every breath you take feels like a razor blade scraping the inside of your lungs.

“You’ve probably never heard of me, but I’m very familiar with you and your work with the Avengers. But the reason I have you here today is to talk about this man.” Hammer pulls out a folded photograph from his pocket and shows it to you.

It’s Tony Stark, but you have no desire to even think of that man anymore.

“Your best friend, right?” Hammer teases and you curl your lip at him. “What’s wrong? He’s the one who got you a spot on the team, isn’t he?” You look away from him. “I heard what he did to your girl,” he continues. “That must’ve felt like the betrayal of the century.”

“What?” you ask, confused as to what he’s referring to.

“I heard about what happened at the Avengers Tower. So tragic.” Hammer crumples Tony’s photograph and drops it on the floor. “Romanoff didn’t deserve that.”

“W-What are you talking about? Is she okay?” Your bottom lip quivers in fear.

Hammer kneels in front of you. “She’s dead, Y/N.”

“No, no…” You feel like he’s punched you right through the chest. “T-That’s not possible.”

“I’m sorry. I know she meant a lot to you.” Hammer stands again.

“How do you even know what happened at the Tower?” Given its security, there was no way news like that reached the public. At least not the truth of it. Maybe Hammer was just trying to mess with you.

Hammer motions behind him and a blonde woman steps forward from the shadows. Her face jolts your memory, but you don’t remember exactly where from.

“Recognize her?” Hammer asks. “She actually works for me, but she’s been pretending to be a SHIELD agent for some time now. She was right outside the door when your little spat with Stark went down.” Your mind flashes back to when you returned from the mission with Natasha. On your way to the private Avengers’ quarters, you remember passing the same blonde woman right outside the door.

“She heard everything that happened inside,” Hammer says as the blonde woman retreats into the darkness again.

“N-Natasha’s…She’s…She’s not dead,” you stammer.

Hammer shakes his head. “She went into surgery after Stark shot her, but due to the placement of the bullet, there were some complications and she coded on the table. They couldn’t revive her. That part was all over the news.”

You feel so sick you want to vomit. “I…I killed her?”

“No. You didn’t kill her. Tony Stark killed her.”

You start gasping for air, only worsening the pain in your chest. “No—But—He—I’m the one who pulled the trigger—”

“But you weren’t aiming for her. You were aiming for Stark, and he’s the one who deflected the bullet into her,” Hammer says. “He’s also the one who sent you two on that mission to begin with, wasn’t he? The reason you lost your cool and pulled your gun out? Think, Y/N. All of this is Stark’s fault.”

But the sadness of thinking you’ve killed Natasha is too overwhelming. You can’t focus on anything but your own guilt. You will burn in hell for this and you won’t even mind.

“Listen to me, Y/N!” Hammer snaps, striking you across the face. His rings cut into your cheek and blood fills your mouth. “I hate Stark just as much as you do. He’s been my business rival for years and I need someone to help me take him down. Who better than you, a former friend of his, who knows how to hit him where it hurts?”

You start crying at the thought of having to exist in a world without Natasha Romanoff.

Hammer tries getting your attention by slapping you again, but you’re unresponsive. You’re too lost in your grief to process anything he’s saying, and eventually he gives up, promising to come back another time to reveal his master plan to you.

It takes an entire month before he can even communicate with you. Your depression is all-consuming and their threats on your life have no effect. They’re startled to learn you actually enjoy the torture because you believe you deserve it after what you did to Natasha. But Hammer is relentless and finally figures out how to manipulate you into his bidding.

Six months after your capture and the accident, you finally crack. Your agony and pain turns into pure rage and hatred for Tony Stark. You can’t bring Natasha back, but you can get revenge on the man who took her life. After training with Hammer’s technology, which is almost as advanced as Tony’s, you’re deemed ready to be let out in the real world. Hammer personally asks for your help to kill Tony Stark, and it’s an offer you accept gladly.

***********************************************************************

Three months after the accident…

Natasha wakes up and looks to her right, disappointed to see the bed still empty. She’s tricked herself into believing that one day you’ll show up, ready to pick up the pieces and continue where you left off. But nothing has been the same since you left.

She sits up and turns the lights on. She scoots to the edge of the bed and carefully lifts her body into the wheelchair parked there.

The bullet had struck her lumbar spine, shattering her L1 vertebrae and paralyzing her from the waist down. Tony requested help from the best doctors he knew, but even the greatest modern advancements couldn’t repair her spine. He had personally designed her wheelchair, and she knows she should be grateful to still be alive, but she’s never felt so helpless and alone.

After the accident, you ran off and no one could locate you. Secretly, she held onto the hope you would return one day, but she knows your guilt and shame are keeping you away. She wants to tell you that it wasn’t your fault and that she doesn’t hate you, but you’re not even giving her that chance.

Tony made the public announcement that Black Widow had retired from the Avengers. No one knew she had been paralyzed, nor that you had unofficially resigned from the team. Without you, without Black Widow, Natasha didn’t know who she was anymore.

She leaves her bedroom and goes into the kitchen. Tony arranged most of the food and dishes down to her new height but she feels like she’ll never adjust to not being able to stand anymore. She locates a bowl and a box of cereal and rolls over to the table. She chokes down dry Cheerios and pours her second bowlful when Tony walks in.

“Thank God you’re finally up,” he says. “When you’re done, I have something to show you.”

“Y/N?” She perks up.

“Uh…no…”

Natasha knows Tony blames himself just as much as she does for her accident, but it wasn’t his fault either. She wrestled between anger and guilt, sometimes blaming you, sometimes blaming him. But in the end, it’s easier to blame herself. She should have stopped you the moment you took out your gun, regardless of whether or not you pushed her. But she got so caught up in the moment she froze, and now she was paralyzed and you were gone.

“Just come down to my workshop, okay?” Tony disappears again.

With nothing better to do, Natasha takes the elevator down to Tony’s workshop. She doesn’t visit often, but when she does, she’s always impressed by his latest inventions and gadgets. She rolls down the aisle of old Iron Man suits displayed in glass cases, admiring the subtle differences in each one.

“Where are you, Tony?” she calls.

“Over here!” He waves her down from the other end. “I’ve been working on this for a while, and I know it’s a little premature, but I couldn’t help myself.” Tony stands next to another Iron Man suit, but it doesn’t quite look like it will fit him.

The suit is curved to fit a woman, black and red instead of Tony’s iconic red and gold. Natasha sees a red hourglass emblazoned on the belt buckle.

“What…What is this, Tony?” she asks, tears in her eyes.

“It’s an Iron Widow suit,” he says. “Or, whatever you want to call it. You’ll have to get in and test it out for yourself, but it’ll allow you to walk again and…be an Avenger again.”

Natasha wishes she could throw herself into his arms, but pulls him down to her level instead. “Thank you,” she whispers, wiping her face. She never thought she would be able to serve as an Avenger again, but she’ll take the opportunity if it means taking her mind off recent events.

“Ready to try it out?” Tony presses a button on the side of the suit and the suit opens up, bending into a crouched position so Natasha can get in it like a chair.

She smiles for the first time since the accident.

“I am.”

***********************************************************************

Six months after the accident…

Natasha is in the gym, lifting dumbbells on a bench when Tony walks in. Although she now has a legitimate excuse for skipping leg day for the rest of her life, she now has to make sure her upper body is twice as strong to make up for it.

“Look who decided to slide through my DMs this morning,” Tony says, shoving his phone in her face.

Midnight. Central Park Carousel. Come alone.

The text was from you.

“Oh, my God,” Natasha says, setting the weights down. You haven’t even texted her since the accident, and she’s a little hurt you didn’t reach out to her first. “What’s this about?”

“I have no idea.” Tony shrugs. “I know it says for me to go alone, but since it’s from Y/N, I wanted to ask if you wanted to tag along.”

“Of course.” In a way, Natasha feels like the text is really meant for her. Central Park was where you had asked her to be your girlfriend. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

“I’ll need you to be on your A-game. We have no idea what Y/N’s been up to these past six months. I don’t know if you’re gonna like what we find,” Tony says.

Natasha has spent countless nights wondering where you’ve been and what you’re doing. Now she has the chance to find out. “It’s going to be okay, Tony,” she says.

He shakes his head. “Just so you know, I’m praying more for you than me right now.”

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

Click here for Part 3!

AN: I never went to medical school, so forgive my medical inaccuracies.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow #black widow fanfiction #marvel imagine #natasha x reader

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sepia-mahogany · 3 years

Text

Platonic Hanahaki

The stories are just as widely known, of loving and losing, of yearning and forgetting, common in present time as they were years ago, of loving someone so deeply, without desire but not without passion, of kings and warriors, of lovers and brothers, of people not kin not lovers, growing in their lungs the flowers with thorns that cut deep, and drank away their blood without leaving any survivors.

Of course the tales are many, as tragic as they are, of how a man who killed his beloved for making him feel what he deemed unnecessary, his beloved who offered him a little white carnation, covered red in blood, but he held up his sword and cut through flesh, only to follow few days later in his grief.

Or of how a woman travelled across seas, in search of her soulmate, for the agony of her blood kept her comfort, for the heartbeat that echoed along with the garden she grew inside her lungs, because it meant her beloved was well, until one day, she coughed up a black rose and sank to her knees, disappearing from the world.

Of course, there were the ones who lived and got their happy ends, filled with their beloved ones caress or tears of guilt, and so was recorded, the flowers turning to dust and fading away, for their love had been acknowledged, so why the need for the reminder in their veins? Only marks appear on their skin, the place where they first made contact, sometimes the cheek, sometimes the hand, sometimes unseen under the clothes from when they rough-housed as kids.

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Jiang Fengmian closed the book that he read, the pain blossoming sharp in his lungs, since that night when he sat, staring at the lotuses under the moonlight, his mind drifting to moments of the past, of longing of what once was, Lotus Pier once his home, felt more like a shackle around his wrists, yet this was his responsibility and he would bear the weight.

He thought to the day he waved away his dearest friend, the one by his side since they were young and grown into the men they were today, and as life went on, it was natural and it was expected, so Fengmian had not been forlorn but rather joyfully wished them well with sincerity and hoped they could visit some time in the future.

He was happy for Changze, for he had found his One, he’d seen the way he looked at her and she at him, he may have held affections for one of them but his love for their friendship outweighed it, and he would be content if they were healthy and successful in the path they chose, but even he knew with their own busy lives, it would be difficult to meet for a long time, so he bid them farewell and cherished their memories.

He didn’t feel as disappointed over his marriage as he originally did, it might have been arranged because of Meishan Yu Sect’s pressuring and his mother’s continuous desire for wanting one of theirs to be his bride, ‘to be the stern hand to his mellowness’ she had said, and what kind of a filial son would he be if he broke the betrothal off now?

And it was not as if he knew the Third Lady of Meishan Yu personally, seeing his brother-in arm’s relationship, his heart could not help but swell with hope, perhaps they could come to understand one another? He looked at his flowers, the ones he had grown with them, and the purple lotuses blooming near the entrance and thought, would she notice how the the colour reflected her eyes? Maybe a boat ride would help? Making future plans with anticipation, he felt a smile blooming on his face.

The day of the wedding came and went, except the chambers of the first night of the married couple remained empty, for his wife had requested for separate quarters in the privacy of their room, he agreed, perhaps she was nervous? Knowing each other better was better than consummation with a stranger, he nodded to himself, he should probably help make her comfortable as her husband.

He approached her room after he finished dressing and knocked lightly, and hesitantly called out “Third-lady?” The door opened, by one of the two girl’s Yu Ziyuan had brought over, and he saw his heart skip a beat when he saw her sitting clothed in Yunmeng Jiang’s purple, her violet eyes staring at him, her lips pursed in a line.

“What is it?” she asked, annoyance clear by her expression, he hesitated yet again, perhaps he had come too early? Yesterday had been a busy banquet. “Would you like to come to the pavilion with me today?” her eyes narrowed and he thought he saw a brief anger flash on her face, was she misunderstanding his intentions?? “The flowers are quite beautiful and the weather is quite good today, tea outside seems a calming time, doesn’t it?” he added, trying to make sure his tone did not seem too hurried, except she became even more angry.

Just when he expected her to refuse, she nodded curtly, “What time?” He let out a breath he did not even realise that he was holding, “Whatever seems comfortable.” He smiled at her gently, her eyes roamed over his face once again before she looked away, knowing full well she meant for him to leave, he got up.

He was happy throughout the day and it must have shown on his face, because his right-hand man told him to leave the Sect work to him for today and ‘just go Sect Leader!”, he had prepared the afternoon snacks himself, the place polished and ready for a wonderful evening, despite that, he still could not help but anxiously look over everything as he waited for her arrival, and she arrived, wearing the same robes as she was in the morning.

He got up to extend her seat. “Good Evening, Third-Lady” She had been looking around the garden since she had entered, he thought it out of appreciation, since these were the flowers they cultivated for years, until her eyes landed on him, which held the same anger as they did earlier in the morning. He served her the tea which she held tightly in her hands, and he found himself worrying, “Is something wrong?”

He expected her to say that the tea was not up to her taste at best, he expected her to criticise the garden’s decor at worse, what he had not expected were the words that left her mouth. “So this is the garden you cultivated with that woman? And you dared to bring me, your wife, here on the first day after our marriage?” She hissed, her words crisp and cutting, he felt confusion, followed by horrified upon realisation of the implications.

“Third-Lady! What are you saying??”

“What am I saying?! Do you deny it? Do you take me for a fool? You married me once you were rejected by her, everyone knows that and you think that I will sit here calmly while being disrespected!? What do you take me for??” She yelled at him, slamming the cup down, he was truly shocked and frozen in his spot looking at her in bewilderment, had that really been what everyone was saying?

However, she took his shocked silence for agreement and got up to leave, “Third-Lady wait! It isn’t as you think, at all! Let me explain, we were friends and nothing else” He saw her pause, her back towards him so he hurried to explain.

“Changze brought her over once, to show her the garden we had cultivated since we were kids.” He paused to take a breath, “The only thing that was planted upon her suggestion were the purple lotuses-” He saw her head tilt as she looked the flowers, with a hopeful heart he thought, ‘maybe..?’ But before he could finish, Yu Ziyuan had turned around, a sneer upon her lips as she trampled upon the flowers next to her.

‘...to be the first thing you see, when you enter the garden.’

She left him staring at the trampled flowers, the tea cup tipped all over the table from when she smashed it in anger, and he sat there, processing what had happened, until a disciple knocked at the door, “Sect Leader?” The disciple peeked inside to catch his eye and stammered, “The meeting is about to begin, some urgent things came up and-” he smiled and replied “Of course, I’ll be on my way.” He sent the disciple off, grabbed a few napkins to clean up the table, and picked up the trampled flowers from the ground.

The days that followed went on without much words spoken between them, he did not dare to make the first move, because if she could misunderstand him in ways to such high extents, he was not sure what she would think if her sent over gifts, even if the thought of sending some crossed his mind, her scowling face and the violet of her eyes reminded him of that day, leading him to stay away.

He entered the garden, as months went by, the flowers that were once blooming wilted, just like everything in life had its end, some more sooner than the others, some caused by another, he thought as his eyes lingered on the place where once the purple lotus flowers stood.

--------

“She’ll love them!” Cangse Sanren had said with that confident smile of hers, giving him thumbs up with both hands covered in dirt from where she planted her side of the lotuses with Changze, who nodded as well when he looked at him. “The ones on the right are from us, the ones to left were planted by her were own future-husband.” She grinned as he could feel flush creeping up his cheeks, he cleared his throat accompanied by Changze’s fond sigh.

“She’ll probably melt, Sect Leader Jiang, down on his hands and knees in dirt, planting flowers in her-” Jiang Fengmian cut her off “Okay, enough! Enough!” he muttered, wiping his hands clean and looking at Changze, who only looked the other way as his wife cackled, the traitor. “Besides I plant flowers anyway, so does Changze, it’s not anything special like that.” He said defensively, Cangse Sanren had the audacity to roll her eyes, at Sect Leader, and his own home at that. “Sureee, Fengmian, sure.”

---------

When he began to plant new fresh seeds, it took him much longer without Changze doing the other half, now, the thought of even considering Yu Ziyuan to plant the other half seemed laughable, he had been wrong in thinking they could come to understand one another, but now what was done was done, he could not exactly with separate her just within a few months of marriage, so he took a deep breath and decided upon a peace offering.

She was the Violet Spider, with a harsh temper and equally cutting words, what would be a gift that would be to her liking? He did not need to ponder over it for long, because to his surprise, he was approached by her during the evening, when he was alone. “I want to handle the training of the disciples.” She stated more than asked, Jiang Fengmian hesitated, that was a mistake, “What? Don’t think I’m good enough to train Yunmeng Jiangs disciples? Not good enough as your-” he cut her off,

“No! That’s not what I was thinking-” the original instructor had been hand picked and carried the legacy of his forefathers, how could he alter what was passed down for generations- “Did you speak over me!? Trying to silence me, are you? With how you married me as a substitute for her? Is that not it?? Is that why you’re so hesitant?? Or perhaps is it that I’m a woman and you’re scared-” what?? “My Lady! That’s not it at all! I-”

“Then prove it, or else it's not believable at all, what other reason would you have then, to think that I am somehow inferior in your mind?” Her words dripped with poison, her eyes locking onto him, eyes of a venomous spider, he raised up his hand to massage his forehead. “Its not that simple! The instructing handlers have been passed down through generations, I cannot just change it on a whim.”

And she leaned back, smug as if she had won the argument, “Then perhaps it is not I who is lacking.” He felt cold all over, the anger he felt giving him no warmth, insulting his friends, insulting him, and now his sect. “Third-Lady, please be careful of what you speak, careless words aren’t able to be taken back easily.” Her smile remained, “Who says these are careless words? I mean every one of them, your Sect teachings haven’t produced any excelling disciple for the past years, while other Sect’s flourish, give me the reigns and I’ll show you how its done.”

Not only accepting all her words as intentional, but also implying she could do better than the Jiang Sect’s teachings over hundreds of years, he realised more and more what sort of a person he had been tied down to, would it not be better to just end the marriage? He instead looked over her smug expression and took a deep breath, “Fine, but give me time.” She nodded and left at that, a means to an end, giving her the benefit of the doubt, he did not know at the time, would turn out to be one of his worst mistakes.

It took him months but he managed to get some disciples under Yu Ziyuan, but his concerns were not simply over the teachings, if Yu Ziyuan could act the way she did with him, well with disciples? So he supervised the training lessons, but again to his surprise, other than some curt words, she did not verbally attack them the way she had attacked him, so it wasn’t her behaviour in general, just with him.

Of course he had called over one of the disciples randomly, although nervous and stuttering, the boy had answered that the training was going quite well, and with no reports or complaints in the following months, he could not do anything but let the matter drop, with this however, the matter of their distance remained as it was.

Soon he found that she relocated the aides he had, he had been angry of course, and immediately gone to her. “Where did you send Li Feng and the rest? And with what authority, you have no right-” she cut him off slamming her hands on top of the table. “With authority as your wife!? Or have you forgotten who your wife is?? So what? Can’t I move around servants here??” the anger churned his insides more so than anything else.

“Those people aren’t servants, Li Feng is my right-hand man, please refer to them respectfully.” He tried to speak as calmly as possible, she glared at him “As the Madam of this house, I can do however I want.” he pinched the bridge of his nose, looked at her, her violet eyes, and exhaled. “Every action I do is met with anger, scorn or contempt,” He began, voice devoid of previous anger, “Then perhaps we should part ways.” He finished and her expression changed.

Out went the anger from her glare, instead for the first time she looked at him with shock instead of rage, and it was the first time he heard her stutter. “F-Fengmian, you can’t…” He looked at her, much relaxed with his mind made up, “Third-Lady, we clearly aren’t meant to be, we are completely different.” He turned his back and made to leave, with his hand on the door handle, “How dare you do this to me?”

Still the same, he closed his eyes, “How dare you, when I work day and night to train your disciples, how dare you, when you agreed to marry me in the first place, if anything, it's all your fault these things happen!” She yelled and he turned to look at her in disbelief, she cried “Why did you marry me if you were going to abandon me later?? How dare you!” she grabbed the nearest object, a cup and threw it at him, but he caught it before it broke.

‘Your fault’ she said, how was it his fault with any of it?? With how she behaved- “Have I caused problems in your Sect?? Have I gone out of my way to harm your people? All I did was rearrange the schedule setting but you seem to think I have committed treason?!”

She looked at him with anger “Did you not approach me first on that day? I was fine in my own quarters but you had to approach me.” He did but it was for purpose of getting to know each other better!

“Then all I asked was to train your disciples, only to get your suspicion” She huffed angrily “Do you think think me blind? That I would not if you called them to check if I was abusing them?? What do you take me for exactly!?” She saw him staring wide-eyed and nodded “You don’t get to ask for separation when I’m one who has suffered, after I’ve worked so hard, you could make some efforts too, if you weren’t so obsessed with that woman, and hate me unreasonably for not being her, then perhaps you would know!” She left, slamming the door behind her.

Her words repeated over and over in his head, ‘your fault’, true he had approached her first that day...but..and again the thing with disciples, he felt guilt creeping up in his heart, he should have tried harder if she misunderstood him, he should have explained it better, in a few days he saw his aides once again under him, but instead of greeting him like they usually did, they looked at him as if a stranger.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, Li Feng answered “Of course, Sect Leader.” He nodded, not noticing anything odd, except over the next month, he realised they were treating him distantly, he couldn’t share with them what was on his mind, nor any of his opinions, being met with “As Sect Leader wishes.” Was Yu Ziyuan right? Was he the one lacking in communication? But he never had Changze misunderstand him...

In his state, he did not notice rumours spreading about how Jiang Fengmian did not like Yu Ziyuan because he was ‘still in love with another woman’.

Most of time was spent busy with his work, not knowing how to face her again, days became months, he would sometimes reminisce over his past times, feeling guilt weighing him down and pain in his chest, there no reason for him to feel anything out of the ordinary, until one day, when he was sitting in his room while looking down at his garden, the flowers did not bloom, he thought, and he felt a wave of coldness wash over him

Thinking how the once lively Lotus Pier turned into a place of coldness for him, his wife refused to talk to him, his aides and friends looked at him with judgement in their eyes, and then the pain increased unnaturally, until he couldn’t help but take in deep breaths helping to no avail, and then he coughed.

He coughed and coughed until he could feel his lungs bleed and he tasted metal on his tongue, until he could feel thorns scratching his throat as he choked with panic overtaking him, barely able to breath he vomited, instead of feeling his blanket get wet from what he thought was bile, he opened his eyes to be greeted by flowers, lots of carnations, stargazer lilies and purple hyacinths mixed together, covered in blood and vines.

He laughed, he had not laughed since the day he got married to Yu Ziyuan, he laughed and laughed bitterly, tears forming in his eyes, he felt so alone, he thought ‘how good would it be if I could just leave?’, at least, he thought between breaths, at least they are alright, it had been a long time since he had heard from his friends.

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

A year had passed just like that, Yu Ziyuan’s angry scornful comments continued any time he so much as tried to speak to her that he gave up trying, his aides while weren’t exactly the same with him anymore, he did catch them staring at him with concern sometimes, few reassurances had them going back to work.

Hearing knocking at the door, with Yu Ziyuan’s “It’s me”, exhaustion filled him, and his heart skipped a beat with fear, of course it wasn’t that he was afraid of her, but her reaction, her words if she knew, he glanced once at the hiding place of the book and got up to open the door, tired as he did not want to face more of her tirades or whatever she wanted from him.

She walked in, eyes roaming over his room and sat on the edge of his bed, “Fengmian” she began, and he took a deep breath, she wanted to ask for something when she spoke like that, “What is it Third-Lady?” he asked, a bit resigned.

“The people have been talking.” She said a bit curtly, that phrase always sent his thoughts back to when they first talked, and since whenever she uttered it, it was almost always followed by anger, he did not like it at all.

Though reluctant, he still asked weakly “About what, Third-Lady?” she looked away. “Heirs” With that one word, he felt a surge of that unpleasant coldness forming in the pit of his stomach. “‘Heirs?’” he repeated, he had known that one day he would have to consummate their relationship, and he had foolishly avoided it being brought up, with what reason could he deny this?

“Make up your mind, people have been talking, how Fengmian has not touched his wife since her arrival.” She said, turning to look at her, the violet of her eyes made him sick, his thoughts filled with the purple hyacinths covered in blood, he felt breath come short to his lungs. “Give me time, Third-Lady.” He whispered weakly, and winced when he realised it was the wrong thing to say as her expression twisted.

“Do you hear yourself? Always ‘give me time’ whenever I ask you for something, haven’t I given you enough time to come to yourself? Always dazed nowadays!” She snapped and he flinched, “Third-Lady no! I-” She interrupted “Don’t speak over me!” She got up, and walked closer to him, prompting him to take a step back.

“You, always yearning for your beloved it it?” She sniffed and he felt his heart drop, she couldn’t possibly have known, he went alone and- “You...you had people following me??” He whispered, angered, afraid, he did not know what he was feeling, except that he wanted to be far far away from her. Were it the people he once called his aides?

“Does it matter? Who knows when you’d meet up with that wh-” He slammed his hand on the door “Third-Lady, please leave.” He said taking in deep breaths to keep the pain at bay, “Just go” He added when a look of anger overcame her yet again “Fengmian you-” he didn’t let her speak. “You want heirs? Heirs right? Let's talk about that later, out” He pointed to the door, she bit her lips but ultimately left, knowing her words wouldn’t be needed any more having accomplished what she came for.

He closed the door and tried to move to the inside of the room, where he coughed, coughed until blood poured down his mouth, blood until the purple flowers fell from his mouth, it was getting worse than before, he huffed and washed clean the blood, washed cleaned the flowers, a drawer he opened, entirely filled with violet flowers, a reminder of the fool he had been.

He sat on his knees as he stared them, despair heavy on his face, “Ah Changze, what am I supposed to do?”

So, they shared the moment of what should have been their wedding night, he left as soon as morning came, with the urge to vomit yet again at his throat, and it was not entirely due to the diseases spike, he would hope that was the one and only moment time they would ever have to take part in matrimonial duties, for her cutting words didn’t ever seem to hold back, no matter the occasion.

Months passed and confirmation came that she was with child, it was a relief to him, less about acquiring an heir and more not having to deal with the woman, except in her state she was more unbearable than ever but he couldn’t say anything, for he would be met with her rant of “You did this to me!” From her, he fulfilled her every wish, but he couldn’t think to be with her in the same room for more than a few minutes, without bile rising to his throat.

But when the day of the birth came, he sat as she held his arm, as she screamed in pain, that was the least he could do as her husband, suppressing all moments of disgust he felt upon her touch, and after hours and hours, he got to hold his daughter while her mother took rest, and his heart filled with love, his little one, she was his dearest child, Jiang Yanli.

For a few days, things seemed better, Yu Ziyuan seemed to hold back on her anger, he assumed she had been happy as well, how wrong he had been, when she came to him and spoke about betrothal with her Sworn Sister, Madam Jin of Jin Sect, and he felt disbelief coursing his veins and it was the first time he truly raised his voice at her. “No.” he said firmly, no matter how much she yelled or screamed, he refused.

He had said, “Her marriage will done with her own choice, no matter what.” he thought later that had been a mistake, because Yu Ziyuan started to arrange play-dates between Yanli and the Jin heirs son, he still refused, until Jiang Yanli herself came to him, claiming she loved the boy she saw but barely knew anything of, if she did, she would have seen the disdain the boy held for prospect of marriage, the same disdain he saw in Yu Ziyuan.

The woman came to him again, “A-Li likes him, or are you going to deny what you had said?” He wanted to argue, Yanli was barely old enough to understand but knowing Yu Ziyuan, he knew there was no way she would give up, so he agreed, hoping to break it off later in the future, when Yanli was old enough to understand, his daughter would know that there was no love lost between her and the boy.

Until her 3rd birthday, when it became more and more obvious that Yanli could not form a core, and Yu Ziyuan’s anger burned again, he tried to keep Yanli around him more than her, but when she came asking to talk to her daughter, as her mother, he could not refuse, his daughter usually looked down instead of looking at her.

One of those days, when Yu Ziyuan had come to ask, Jiang Yanli held tightly on his clothes and looked at him with her light coloured eyes, Ziyuan’s purple reminded him of poison, of those hyacinths in his lungs, and Yanli’s reminded him of those purple lotuses, that he had grown with love, he made an excuse, and the woman huffed away, “Fine, send her over later then.” He did not, “She was tired.” He said calmly, when Yu Ziyuan later yelled at him.

They had to share the bed once more when the question of heirs was brought up, and he had spent the rest of the day in his room, vomiting, sick to his stomach, both the blood and the food, for the first time since Yanli’s birth. As usual, he cleaned up without letting anyone know.

Nearing the evening, he heard a light knock at his door. “Father?” He heard, Yanli call out, he got up to open the door, and invited his little daughter in, “Father’s not well?” she questioned as she climbed up onto his lap, he patted her head lovingly. “Father is okay. A-Li does not have to worry, but he wonders what has she been doing? I saw her go to the kitchen earlier today.” He pretended to be puzzled.

“A-Li learnt how to make soup from Old Fa!” She said excitedly, holding her hands together. “But Mother says its a servant’s job, she doesn’t like it.” She wilted and he looked at her directly. “Father would love to eat a-li’s soup.” She looked at him hopefully, “I know it’d taste delicious!” She cheered up.

“I made it for father today.” She ran out and came back with a bowl filled with what was..the soup. He drank it anyway and gave a strained smile, “Could use a little less salt” He choked out, and her smile was worth it.

Weeks passed peacefully, he was with Yanli in the kitchen, watching as Old Fa taught her how to knead, cooking was one of the few things that brought a smile to her face, seeing her so excited, he relaxed as well, until Yu Ziyuan joined them, he hadn’t expected her to, given her mindset of it being a servants job, “A-Li you’re doing it wrong.” She said after watching her for a moment, in the same tone of voice as she used when training disciples.

“A-Xuan won’t like it if all you can do is cook, come with me to the training grounds.” She said, he cut her off “A-Li doesn’t have to do everything for him.” And Yu Ziyuan turned to him “If you want her to do a servant job then that's on you, she’s my daughter too, and as the daughter of Violet Spider, she should be able to fight! Not partaking in these weak acts-” He cut her off “Third Lady! Control your words!”

Before he could say more, soft sniffles cut him off, he looked at his daughter, her hands still inside the dough, tears she was trying to wipe on her shoulder, “Third-Lady is not allowed in the kitchen anymore.” He said and watched Old Fa escort her out, not before Yu Ziyuan shouted, “You cannot keep me from training my daughter!” She yelled as if he had ordered her banishment instead.

“No one is keeping you, if you have nothing good to say to a-li, it's better if you stay away from her, Third-Lady, take the day to cool off” He nodded towards the door, “Fine! If you want your daughter to be a weak-” he cut her off “Third-Lady! Leave.” She threw one last look at them and left fuming.

He knelt next to his daughter, pulled her into a hug. “A-Li is sorry Father!” She sobbed, and rubbed her back “A-Li doesn’t have to be sorry, a-li’s mother should be saying sorry.”

“Mother says father doesn’t like a-li” She said after calming down a bit “Because a-li looks like her mother-” he pulled back to look at her in the eye and enunciated his every word, “A-Li is not her mother, a-li is my beloved daughter, and I love everything a-li does” He told her comfortingly.

“A-Li is not weak, a-li is peaceful, there is strength in nurturing and kindness.” Yanli finally seemed to calm down, hiccuping but not sobbing anymore, he wiped her tears away and smiled “Father loves a-li a lot.” he said as he kissed the top of her head.

---------

And then the day came when Yanli’s little sibling came into the world, accompanied by just as much of screaming, but less hours lost, Yanli cooed over her little brother, a tiny little thing in her mother’s arms, she reached out and lightly pressed his cheek, “So small.” Her father chuckled and said “A-Li was also this small when she was born.” Yu Ziyuan showed a rare smile as well, “His name will be Jiang Cheng.” She said.

Things went a bit smoothly after that, even though Ziyuan was the same as always Yanli his beloved daughter was eight years old, and his son, Jiang Cheng was four, his core formed well and he thought Yu Ziyuan had been happy, so he had not expected when she was walked into his room and started yelling,

“Why are you ostracising your son!? Yanli’s going to be married into Jin Sect and yet you spend time coddling her! And you don’t spend the same amount of time with your son?”

He really hadn’t expected her random onslaught, nor where she was coming from, his son was working hard, and he had overlooked his training personally, teaching him the Jiang teachings along with Yu Ziyuan’s own training. “Oh is it because I’m his mother? Because you cannot handle seeing your own son when you want to see a son with her-” Where was she coming from, he felt horrified, “Third-Lady! What’re you saying!?”

The door swung open and their son, Jiang Cheng stood shocked, scared at being caught and tears in his eyes, before he ran away. He turned to her disgust forming heavy, before leaving her where she stood spluttering how she didn’t mean for him to hear her.

He found his son sobbing as Yanli comforted him in his room. “Mother doesn’t mean it.” Yanli told him as she rubbed his back, “She loves you.” He only sobbed louder, “But she’s right, Father likes you more because he hates me. He likes that boy more-” Yanli looked as if she didn’t know what to say, and Fengmian felt confused, who were they talking about?

“No, I absolutely, do not.” He said and his children froze and turned to him, “You do! Why do you make me work more than everyone else!?” His son got up, and lightly started punching him from where he reached his knees while he sobbed, Jiang Fengmian, placed a hand on his shoulder, suppressing the pain in his heart and lungs.

“Because A-Cheng is going to be the Sect Leader, A-Cheng needs to be strong.” He said evenly as his son shook his head. “That’s not what you said to Jie!” and ran to his bed, “A-Cheng listen-” His son turned to look at him with anger “If you did then you wouldn’t have that disease!”

Jiang Fengmian stared at him, too shocked to feel anything. How? Or Why? Did she tell them that?! How did she even- his thoughts cut off as he thought back, if she could send people tailing him, what couldn’t she do?

He looked at his daughter who avoided his gaze, “A-Li?” she answered silently “Mother said Father would replace him for-” She frowned, trying to remember a name, “‘Wei Ying’, the son of your-” She sneaked a peak at him “Your ‘beloved’.” And looked away, as if feeling guilt.

“A-Li, no, I love you both, how can she-” Yanli nodded, “I know that you love us, but A-Cheng thinks Father doesn’t like him because of Mother…” she hesitated. “And that you regret it wasn’t someone else, instead.”

He regretted, he regretted letting his children near Yu Ziyuan’s poisonous words, but the only regret was Yu Ziyuan, not his love for his children, it was not something he would ever regret, he didn’t even know Wei Changze had a son.

“A-Li” He began gently, knowing A-Cheng was listening when his shaking under the blanket stopped, “They were my friends, like you and-” He thought for a second, “-like you and A-Cheng, we grew up together but they were my friends, and you’re my children, I love you both.” He kissed the top of her head and her shoulders dropped in what could only be relief, and reached up to pat Jiang Cheng’s head under the blanket, and left them for a moment.

He knocked on Yu Ziyuan’s door, only to find it open and empty, he walked inside and opened the cabinets and drawers until he found what he was looking for, for her to know she must have- and there they were.

Pages over pages, written in a familiar writing, ranging from containing details of travels, requesting permission to visit, to mentions of ‘Wei Ying’s’ birth, he felt tears form in his own eyes, with his heart filled with overwhelming pain and indignation, he now understood her random bursts, they were each time a letter was received, over jealousy-

Before he could go out and confront her, the pain in his lungs became unbearable, he choked and coughed, no matter how much he tried to restrain it, he coughed until he collapsed to his knees, why now? His body heated up feeling thorns tear at this lungs and throat.

He could barely breath as he vomited, vision fading from the corner of his eyes, he was confused until he caught a look of the flowers he coughed, pure black roses mixed with the hyacinths, the rose thorns dripping with blood, no sign of lilies and carnations, his heart and soul filled with agony and he cried, and then he knew nothing more.

When he woke up, he felt nothing, he knew he hated Yu Ziyuan, but he felt nothing but blank emptiness, when he stared at the woman standing at the door, his children on either side of his bed. “Oh good, that you’re awake.” She hissed as if he was an inconvenience and he found no rage, and he nodded calmly instead.

He knew his friends had passed but he did not, could not feel grief, he knew he loved his children, so he reached out with both his hands, patting them as they muttered apologies while sobbing. “It wasn’t your fault, father was a bit sad, and was already sick, but he’s well now.” He said gently, and once the children left, he looked at the woman who was his wife and said “I’ll bring A-Ying back.”

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Authors note

Jfm knew he cared for Wei Ying, yet he felt nothing.

He knew he loved his children, he felt nothing,

He knew he hated his wife, yet he felt, nothing.

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So yesterday i was looking through @angstymdzsthoughts and came across platonic hanahaki and thought hey sounds angsty, and thought ‘hey what if jfm had platonic hanahaki for cangse sanren and wei changze?’ i deliberately tried to keep it ambiguous which one he was in love with XD Madam Yu kept assuming and he didn’t give a fuk about correcting her, also like i couldnt bring myself to even write them spending the night together idk y, took a lot of effort lol. Started out with thinking hanaki, got more of JFM’s descent to feeling nothing oof.

Also like it turned out more focus on the fact that even before wwx was brought to lp, there would still be yzy biching and making everyone miserable so-

#mdzs #jiang fengmian #yu ziyuan #jiang cheng #jiang yanli #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #platonic hanahaki #wei wuxian #worked on typos yet again #wei changze #cangse sanren #my writing #prompted by angstymdzsthoughts post

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hood-ex · 3 years

Text

This is a fic written for @stxleslyds! The prompt was: a fic with Dick, Roy and Lian spending time together in the Outsiders era. Thanks for the donation, Tati 💙.

Important: This fic takes place a week after the events of Outsiders (2003) #19.

“We could use you here,” Roy says. Even with his voice coming directly through the comm, Dick almost doesn’t hear him say, “I need you here.”

A soft wind blows through Blüdhaven, ruffling through Dick’s sweat-matted hair. What a filthy night it is for a Friday. Thunder rumbling in the distance with hot, humid air filling Dick’s lungs. It’s the kind of air that isn’t natural for a place like the ‘Haven. It’s here for whatever reason, and it’s no better now that the sun has been replaced by pink and purple neon lights flashing across the strip. It’s nights like these that Dick can admit to missing his red tunic and green shorts. It was shit to wear them in the winter but an absolute godsend in the summer.

Dick sighs deeply, moving away from the ledge of the building and away from his view of the herds of drunk people whose laughter echoes between the bars and casinos. There’s a tall HVAC unit in the middle of the building that he walks over to and sits against. The fabric of his suit rubs against it, and he squirms a little at the uncomfortable position. He bears it because this is a conversation that requires a little support.

“Dick.”

“I know,” Dick mutters.

He should be under the streets of Brooklyn the same as all the other Outsiders should be. Considering the circumstances, it’s no surprise that some of them have deserted the ship for the time being. Licking their wounds in private so to speak. Dick’s not proud of it. He tacks it onto his mental bulletin board of shame where it sits up there all torn and ugly like the rest of his deplorable moments.

“I’d feel better if you were here to watch Lian when I step out of the room,” Roy says in Japanese. Dick’s brow furrows. Either Lian is in the same room as Roy and he doesn’t want her to know they’re talking about her or there’s an Outsider nearby that he doesn’t want listening in on his personal issues. “She hasn’t started therapy yet and her separation anxiety is still high.”

“High for both of you,” Dick points out. He thinks back to a few days ago when Roy had called him in a panic because he’d left all of his groceries in the middle of the store after his paranoia got the best of him and had him running back to the base to check on Lian.

“Tell me about it,” Roy laughs dryly. “I feel like I’m going fuckin’ nuts, dude.” The strain in his voice sends a full body shiver down Dick’s spine. “All I can think about is whether she’s okay and if the base is protected enough, and if I can really trust everyone here. You and Kory are the only ones I feel okay leaving her with.”

You shouldn’t trust me like that, Dick thinks bitterly. Lilith and Donna trusted me with their lives and look where they are now.

“Everyone else is… I trust them as teammates. I trust them with my life. But I can’t—"

“Trust them with Lian’s,” Dick says, knowing how much this whole situation has fucked with Roy's ability to trust anyone and everyone. Except him and Kory, apparently. Probably Ollie and the rest of Roy's family too.

He thunks his head against the HVAC unit and stares up at the dark sky. Not a single star up there, he thinks, and something like guilt burns in his chest. You took them all with you, didn’t you, Donna? Put them in your pockets and faded away. “She might not be comfortable with me there,” he says after a moment.

It pains him to think that Lian could be scared of him. Scared of him because he looks similar to one of the blue-eyed, dark-haired kidnappers who murdered her babysitter and then branded her like cattle. That type of trauma association doesn’t go away after a week.

“Kory told Lian you might stop by, and you know what Lian asked her?”

Terrible things flash through Dick’s head. Things like words born of fear or disgust. He hugs his arms around his knees and squeezes them tight.

“No, what did she say?”

“She asked, ‘Is Uncle Nightwing gonna bring Blue’s Clues with him?’”

A smile tugs at the corner of Dick’s lips and his eyes start to sting. He can’t believe that’s the first thing she thought of. It only seems like yesterday that he was watching Blue’s Clues with her in Titans Tower. Sometimes he would pause the show and ask Lian questions about each of the clues just to hear what kind of outlandish answers her kid brain could come up with. Other times the detective in him couldn’t help but steer her towards a logical answer. Roy used to always roll his eyes and tell him to stop trying to turn her into a mini Nightwing.

“That doesn’t mean she’ll be okay seeing me in person and you know it,” Dick reminds him.

Roy’s sigh is soft and muffled in his ear. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Dick’s not one to wait around.

“Let’s cross it now.”

“You’re coming over?” Roy asks, and even though he mostly sounds neutral, Dick can hear the disbelief hidden under it all.

If there was an award for the world's most shitty friend, Dick would probably be in the lead to receive it. Here Roy is dealing with the fact that his daughter was abducted and almost trafficked, and what’s Dick been doing for the last few days instead of sticking by his side? Working himself to the bone in Blüdhaven, that’s what. Hiding away from the fact that he almost lost another important person to him. Trying to avoid the crushing weight of failure that clings to him like a second skin.

Pathetic. Some safety net he is.

“Yeah, give me an hour,” Dick says.

The commute from Blüdhaven to Brooklyn isn’t bad at this time of night. Most of the traffic is packed downtown where all the bars are lined up. Dick takes the highway to avoid the worst of it.

The roar of the city dies off once he goes underground. Down here the HQ looms over him in all its steel glory. Dick’s always thought of it like one giant elevator. It’s all hard angles and sleek, silver walls. Hardly a place one would describe as homey, but it was home to a few people nevertheless.

Dick goes inside after getting his eye and hand scanned by the computer. He heads down the hallway, keeping his footsteps light and quiet out of habit. So far there’s no sign of Jade, Indigo, or Rex in any of the rooms he passes. They’re the most likely to be here around this time. From what Kory told him the other day, Grace has been spending most of her time clubbing, and Anissa has been staying with her dad. He hates to admit it but it’s almost a relief that he doesn’t have to worry about running into either of them.

He ends up finding Roy and Lian in the rec room. Lian is sitting on the leather couch in the middle of the room. She must have had a shower not too long ago because her hair is a little damp and she’s wearing a pair of purple pajamas with unicorns on them. A Cinderella blanket is strewn across her lap and a stuffed rabbit sits discarded on the floor by her feet.

Roy looks small squatting in front of her. His pants are the only sign of his Arsenal gear, and it makes Dick feel slightly out of place since he’s still decked out in full mask and suit. It’s the first time Dick’s seen Roy in person since they brought down Tanner’s operations a week ago. He looks how Dick would expect any parent to look after being targeted by a major sex trafficker: stressed and exhausted.

Those tired eyes of his shift to the doorway where Dick stands, and Dick can see the way Roy looks him over from head to toe, assessing Dick’s condition. He can look as hard as he wants, but he won’t find anything. Dick keeps his face blank and unreadable.

“It still hurts,” Lian whimpers, and both Dick and Roy's attention immediately snaps back to her.

She wraps her arms around her stomach and bends over her lap like she’s going to throw up all over the floor. Roy doesn’t move to try and avoid any possible bouts of vomit. Nothing happens as the seconds tick by. No retching or anything. There’s only the sound of Roy’s hand rubbing up and down Lian’s arm.

“Me and your Uncle Nightwing are gonna get you feeling better soon,” Roy assures her in a gentle voice. “And guess what?”

Lian makes a questioning sound in the back of her throat.

The look Roy shoots Dick is somewhere between caution and amusement. “He’s been playing quiet mouse behind you this whole time.”

Dick braces himself as Lian shoots back up like a rocket. “He’s behind me?” she asks, twisting around in her seat. Dick’s heart starts jackrabbiting because what if she’s scared of him? What if he accidentally triggers her PTSD? What if— “Uncle Nightwing!” Lian shrieks.

Relief shudders through him because she sounds happy to see him. Not scared or angry or disgusted like he feared. She’s looking at him like he just told her he brought her a bag of candy, and that revelation is enough to make him take a breath and finally enter the room.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dick says, hurrying over to the couch so that she doesn’t have to get up. “I missed you.”

Lian reaches for his hand and holds on to it. It’s not like the hug Dick usually gets from her and maybe that’s because she doesn’t want anyone touching her back after the incident. Dick will take anything he can get. His much larger hand closes over her own and he swings them back and forth lightly.

“Me too,” Lian says. She squeezes his hand three times. “Why do you still have your gloves on?”

“My hands are cold,” Dick lies. “Why were you bent over like an accordion just a minute ago?”

“Her tummy’s been hurting,” Roy says with a frown.

“It’s because tigers used to try and eat people,” Lian tells him matter-of-factly. Roy looks like he’s about to correct her but she quickly hurries on. “My brain says there’s danger and it makes my tummy stop working.”

A lightbulb goes off in Dick’s head as he realizes that she’s describing anxiety. A simplified explanation of how the digestive system shuts down and sends blood to other parts of the body when there’s danger.

“My tummy does that too,” Dick says after a pause. “I get a lot of anxiety sometimes. Do you want me to show you how I try to make it go away?”

Lian scrunches her nose. “Do we have to take medicine?”

“Nope. All we need to do is sit up straight and breathe. Breathing really deep helps our brains calm down and makes our tummies feel more relaxed,” Dick explains. He sinks down on the plush couch and demonstrates how she should be sitting. “Now move back until you’re sitting like me.”

Lian does as she’s told and scoots back until she’s resting against the back of the couch. Dick only remembers how short she is when he notices how her feet stick out straight in front of her instead of dangling over the edge of the couch.

“Now tell your daddy to get in position.”

“Daddy,” Lian slaps the free cushion beside her, “sit next to me.”

“Magic word?” Roy prompts.

“Please,” Lian pouts.

“That’s better.” Roy’s knees pop when he shifts out of his crouched position. The whole couch rocks when he falls back against it. “What’s the strat here, Wing? We need to close our eyes or what?”

Dick wants to ask him why he’s acting like he’s never done this before but the playful words stick in his mouth like glue.

“We’ll close our eyes in a second. Lian, I want you to watch how your daddy and I take really deep breaths, okay? Then we’re all going to do it together.”

“I can take really big breaths!” Lian insists. She scrambles out of her pose and gets on her knees. Her little fingers wrap around Dick’s bicep as she leans in close to him. “I can take one million breaths as big as an elephant!”

The tired and apathetic part of him tells him to ignore her kid logic and to get back on track. The uncle part of him is another story. It wants him to be fun and helpful. To distract Lian from the worries and fears she has.

In the end, he does what he always does best: puts on a performance.

“Oh yeah?” Dick challenges with a grin that hopefully doesn’t look as strained as it feels. “I can take five billion breaths as big as a planet.”

“Elephants are bigger than planets,” she says.

“I think maybe the elephants are only bigger in your dreams.”

“Yeah, they are,” Lian agrees because she’s a typical kid who will support anything that proves she’s right in some capacity.

Roy looks amused when he puts his hands on Lian’s shoulders and steers her to sit back on her bottom. “Alright little missy, no more talking. We’re gonna do what Uncle Nightwing says now, okay?”

“Okay,” Lian agrees, looking over at Dick expectantly.

Coaching Lian through the exercise is easy. The most important part is making sure she’s taking breaths that are deep enough to make her stomach expand like a balloon. Dick has her place her hands on top of her stomach so he can see them rise when she inhales.

Roy follows along and Dick can tell that he’s taking advantage of the exercises for his own benefit. His face looks peaceful and relaxed as he follows along with Dick’s instructions to suck in a breath on the count of one and exhale up until the count of ten.

“Keep focusing on counting,” Dick tells them while they exhale. “We don’t want any other thoughts in our heads. No bad thoughts or funny thoughts. Only think about counting to ten.”

They run through a few more cycles. Dick’s pleased when he hears both Lian and Roy’s stomachs grumbling as they exhale. It’s a good sign that the deep breaths are massaging their organs and decreasing any kind of stomach pain.

“That’s it,” Dick says. “We’re all done.” He opens his eyes and sees Lian slumped against the back of the couch. Her hands are still resting on her stomach, but she looks languid instead of tense like she was when he first saw her.

“I’m tired now,” Roy says. His movements are slow as molasses when he slides forward to the edge of the couch and bends over to rest his arms on his thighs. He looks at Lian. “How about you, princess? You feeling any better?”

“Mhmm. My tummy doesn’t feel really uh…”

“Tight?” Dick offers.

“Yeah, it’s not so tight anymore.”

Roy pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “Good. Mine feels a little better too.”

“Can we do Uncle Nightwing’s breathing thing again tomorrow?” she asks through a yawn.

“Sure thing,” Roy nods. His attention shifts to Dick. “Are you gonna still be here to lead us through it?”

This isn’t some kind of test but it feels like one. It feels like if he says no then he’s only proving that he’s a bad friend. That he can’t be relied on. He doesn’t want to give Roy that impression because it’s not true. Roy can rely on him the same way Dick relies on Roy. He hopes showing up here tonight is proof of that.

“That’s the plan,” he says, voice soft.

Roy leans over the couch and squeezes Dick’s knee gently. “You sure?” he asks, and his eyes roam over Dick’s face like he’s trying to find evidence that Dick is lying.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He pats Roy’s hand reassuringly in the same way Alfred's done for him and Bruce a hundred times. It's only now that he realizes it's a habit he's picked up.

Lian suddenly leans into Dick’s side and presses her weight against his arm. She pats both his and Roy’s hands.

“I’m sure too,” she says, and this time Dick can’t help but smile.

#Dick Grayson #Roy Harper #Lian Harper #tw: mentions of sex trafficking #tw: mentions of past kidnapping and child abuse #my fic #fic commission

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moonlit-jeno · 3 years

Text

evanescence (m.)

pairing: kim jungwoo x fem. reader

genre/warnings: ghost au, explicit sexual content, angst, fluff, mentions of death, some graphic violence/ gore, character death, brief mention of heights, i swear it’s not as bad as it sounds

word count: 7.8k

summary:

evanescence (n.): the quality of being fleeting or vanishing quickly; impermanence; i.e the evanescence of dreams

song to listen to: me & your ghost- blackbear, faded in my last song- nct, trampoline- SHAED, lonely heart- 5 seconds of summer, dreaming with a broken heart- john mayer

notes: evanescence i.e not the band who wrote my immortal <3 part of the almost collab!

The thing about fear is that it’s irrational.

Of course the doll in the corner of your room won’t suddenly come alive and kill you. Of course the spider on your ceiling is actually harmless. Of course nightmares won’t come true and haunt you in your daily life, won’t do more than bother you for a few minutes when you’re asleep. Knowing that doesn’t make it any less scary. Doesn’t stop the shivers from crawling up your spine, doesn’t ease your breathing when you curl into yourself in an attempt to hide.

Some people find comfort in crawling under their blankets, hiding themselves from the rest of the world as if the thick cloth will protect them. You don’t have that luxury. Because the thing you fear isn’t some axe murderer breaking into your house, or some mutant spider wrapping you up in a web. It’s not ghosts or ghouls or demons.

It’s sleep itself.

You used to love sleeping. Naps were considered a favorite hobby of yours, a way to escape from your obligations temporarily or lift your spirits during a bad day. But the line between like and dislike is thin, and the peaceful dreams you were accustomed to transformed into terrors that torture your nights and leave you shaking and sleep deprived when you wake.

Coffee becomes your best friend, the drink becoming a crutch that you use desperately to avoid reliving the nightmare that haunts you every time your eyes fall shut. It’s always the same scene: a basement, a young man being tortured by a masked figure. Punched, strangled, stabbed. It’s always in that order, with the exact same amount of punches and stabbings each time- six. It’s worse than any movie you’ve ever seen, worse than anything that you can imagine. And yet it doesn’t get any less horrifying as time goes on, as you relive the same thing over and over again.

The only thing that changes is the point of view. Sometimes you can see it from his perspective, begging for mercy from an expressionless figure whose ears fall deaf to the boy’s pleas. That’s the worst, you think, because you can feel everything. It leaves you frantically checking yourself for wounds and marks and bruises, the vividness of your dream leaving you shocked when you find your skin unmarred. Sometimes you watch from the corner of the room, able to see everything yet unable to help, your voice stuck in your throat when you attempt to cry for help. And sometimes, you’re the killer, repeatedly delivering blow after blow in a body you can’t control.

Tonight’s different. Instead of the boy strapped to the chair, it’s you.

You shake and cry out, trying desperately to free yourself of the restraints. They aren’t strong, and yet your limbs feel like jelly and you can’t break free of them. A shadow looms over you and you look up, expecting to see the killer, but you don’t. Instead, the boy stands over you.

His features are softer like this, not scrunched in pain or splattered with blood and bruises. He smiles gently at you.

“Hello,” He says, kneeling down in front of you. One hand lands on yours and the restraints fall away, your limbs now free. “I’m Jungwoo.” You just blink at him. “I’ve seen you in my dreams.” Jungwoo’s smile falters a bit, and he huffs a humorless laugh. “That… yeah. That’s less of a dream and more of a…” He trails off, shrugs. “Memory.”

It takes a moment for it to process fully. Memory? If that’s his memory, then that means that he had to go through all of that. “I’m- I’m so sorry. Who put you through that?” He shrugs. “Dunno. But I wouldn’t pity me too much.” There’s a tight lipped smile on his face. “I’m the one that’s made you go through it, too.”

You blink once, twice, and feel the sympathy in your bones turn to fury. “Why?” You ask, tears brimming at your eyes. “I didn’t do anything to you! And you still tortured me, every night. Do you know how terrified I was? I am?”

“I’m sorry.” Jungwoo says, eyes downcast. “I didn’t even know I was projecting onto you at first. I would just get so consumed with what happened that night, and I guess you would relive the scene with me.” He takes a slow step towards you and raises his head. “I never meant to hurt you, I’m sorry.” You nod, because what can you say? Jungwoo doesn’t seem to know either and he stands there, shifting from foot to foot, looking everywhere but at you. “So.” You start, head tilting to the side curiously. “How does this work?” “How does what work?” Jungwoo seems surprised, but whether it’s by your question or by the fact that you’re able to string a coherent sentence together is lost on you.

“I dunno. This. Like are you a ghost? Do you just like, live inside my head now.” “Yeah, I mean I’m dead so I must be a ghost. Haven’t had much time to talk to people and ask.” It’s not meant to be funny, but you can’t stop yourself from laughing. You clear your throat to cover it, trying to focus your energy on your next words. He doesn’t look too hurt at your amusement, though. His eyes are twinkling.

“Hmm let’s test it. If you live in my head, you should be able to hear my thoughts right?” Jungwoo stares at you, bringing one hand up to stroke his chin thoughtfully. Finally, he snaps his fingers. “Got it! You want pizza.” “Nope! I want you out of my head.” Your smile is sickeningly sweet. Jungwoo rolls his eyes, tongue sticking into his cheek briefly before laughing.

“Well, I want to be alive but here we are. Guess we’re at a standstill.”

Guilt fills you and you open your mouth to apologize, but Jungwoo disappears right before your eyes. You try to call out after him but it’s too late, the dream’s over. The annoying beep of your alarm replaces his soft laughter and you groan, fumbling with your phone to turn the sound off.

Classes pass quickly for once, although you’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t register any of the material. You’re done for the day before you know it, finding yourself at a cafe with Johnny. “You’re in a good mood.” He comments, looking at you with his eyebrows furrowed. “Did you get replaced by aliens?” You roll your eyes. “I can be in a good mood, Johnny.” It’s rarely true because you’re normally running off of approximately six minutes of sleep, but hey, it still counts.

Johnny raises his eyebrows. “Y/n, you’re never in a good mood. Not even when your best friend is here.”

“My best friend is here? Where?” Johnny gives you a deadpan expression and you laugh, popping a grape into your mouth. “Kidding, you know I love you. But guess what: I actually slept last night!” He gasps so obnoxiously loud that he inhales the chip he was holding and chokes around it, slamming his hand down on the table and hacking his lungs out. You put your head in your hands until he finally recovers. “You slept? You actually slept? Holy fuck, you did get replaced by aliens!”

“No aliens, John. No nightmares either.” Johnny, though he’s your best friend, doesn’t know the details of your dreams. He knows that they’re bad enough to make you cry and curl up in his arms from time to time, knows that you chug energy drinks to avoid sleeping, but that’s about it. No gruesome murders in sight for him.

“Holy shit, that’s great! We should celebrate.” Johnny reaches across the table to high five you, grinning from ear to ear. “Wanna come over and crack open a few cold ones?” He bites his lip and you know that it’s taking all of his effort not to finish that sentence.

You appreciate it, but you shake your head. “I’ve got a lab report to finish plus like two papers due. I really don’t have time.” That’s only slightly true. Yes, you do have homework, but you normally wouldn’t let that stop you. The itch to see Jungwoo again, however crazy it may sound, is driving you crazy and for once in your life, you can’t wait to fall asleep. Seeing Johnny’s expression drop makes you feel a little bad for bailing on him with a ghost. “Maybe this weekend?”

“Yeah, for sure.” Johnny grins again. “Hopefully you get to sleep tonight.”

The nightmares seem to go away permanently after that. Your dreams always take place in that one room, but Jungwoo’s always there to greet you. A month passes and you learn a lot about him, almost to the point where you see him as a friend. Almost. Because you can’t really be friends with someone who isn’t alive, right? But he feels real. His spirit is still alive, to the point where you forget he’s a ghost who you can only talk to in your dreams, and that’s what matters. Except tonight when you fall asleep, you open your eyes to sand and salt water, gentle waves calmly lapping at the shore. Strange. Jungwoo sits with his back facing you, knees drawn up to his chest. He doesn’t look up when you sit down next to him, but he does speak when you say his name softly.

“I think I figured out why I came back.” Jungwoo says, eyes concentrated on the water. “My brother’s in danger.” His head drops to rest on his knees and you pat his back, not knowing what to say.

You don’t learn what Jungwoo meant until the next night, the man so distraught that he isn’t able to form words before your time’s up. The scene is different again this time, a playground replacing the beach from the night before. Jungwoo sits on a red plastic swing, his feet dragging on the ground sadly.

“Hey Jungwoo.” You call out the greeting gently, taking a seat next to him. “Are you okay?” He nods, laughs a little. “Yeah, sorry for freaking out last night. It’s just. It’s a lot.” “Sounds like it is. You wanna talk about it?” You pat his knee comfortingly and he stares at your hand for a long moment before covering it with his own.

He tells you about his brother first, about how much he misses Mark, about how bad he feels for leaving him on his own. Mark’s younger than him, but only by a year, and he was nowhere near as good as him at FIFA. He tells you that he doesn’t remember who killed him, but that as soon as he was transported to the beach, he knew his brother was in danger. There’s no explanation on how the beach told him that, but you have no place questioning the afterlife. You listen patiently throughout the whole story, and it seems to help Jungwoo, his shoulders sagging with relief when he’s done.

“So whoever killed me,” Jungwoo squeezes your hand, stares at the woodchips dragging around. “They’re going to kill my brother next.”

“So we find your killer. Easy.” You squeeze his hand back. “Mark’s going to be okay, Woo. I promise.”

Tonight’s dream takes place on a rooftop. There are lights strung up that lead you straight to Jungwoo, the man facing you with a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. His arms are outstretched and you walk into them, sighing softly when he wraps you in his embrace. Lips press to your forehead and you swear you’ve reached heaven. “Dance with me.” He whispers it as if you have a choice to disagree with him when he looks this good. You nod and bury your face in his chest, swaying with him under the stars. There’s music playing now, music that you didn’t hear before, and he hums softly to it as you dance. A squeal leaves you when he spins you, dipping you down before pulling you close, your back to his chest. His lips graze your ear and he laughs before spinning you back around and pulling you into a kiss.

It feels so good and you find yourself getting lost in his touch. The warmth of him against you, the solidness of his chest under your palms. It’s so nice, so comforting, so… real. But it can’t be real. Because this is a dream, because Jungwoo is dead. The thought is enough to jolt you out of your haze and you try to pull back, need to pull back, but the hand on the back of your head holds you still and it feels so good that you almost don’t want to pull out of his embrace. “Jungwoo,” you mumble his name against his lips, not wanting to pull away from the kiss but needing to know the answer to your question. “Jungwoo, are you real?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Jungwoo chuckles, pulling you back for more. “Don’t I feel real?”

A gasp leaves you when his hand slips lower to your ass, squeezing before slipping between your thighs. He finds little resistance, easily reaching under your dress and past the thin panties you’re wearing to swipe through your folds and enter you, stretching you out deliciously well. You cling to him as if he’s your life line and not the other way around, letting him take you apart with his fingers. His name leaves your lips in a sob and you press your face against his neck, clutch at his shoulders. “Please, Jungwoo, please.”

Both of his hands slide to your ass and he picks you up easily, your legs wrapping around his waist automatically. He carries you over to the ledge of the roof, setting you down on the cool stone. He barely gives you time to take in what’s happening before he’s dropping to his knees in front of you, his eyes dark and so intense that you can’t look away from his gaze as he attaches his lips to your thighs. You slide one hand into his hair and he moans into your skin, the vibrations traveling through you as he kisses his way up your thighs and to your core. A sigh leaves you and you put your other hand behind you for balance, your heart dropping to your stomach when your fingertips wrap around the edge of the balcony. “Jungwoo!” You yelp immediately trying to stand up when you look behind you and see the darkness below you, decorated with lights from buildings so far down that they’re almost as tiny as the stars above you. “Jungwoo, I’m gonna fall. Ohmygod I’m gonna fall, Woo-”

“Shh,” Jungwoo hushes you, rubbing your thigh soothingly. He reaches for your hand and laces your fingers together, taking a moment to press his lips to the back of your hand. “Look at me, y/n. You’re not going to fall, okay? I’ll always be here to catch you if you do.” Something in his eyes looks so honest, so sincere, and you find yourself nodding slowly.

“Okay.” Your voice comes out as a whisper, too scared to raise it any louder and break the moment between you. “I trust you.” Jungwoo smiles up at you one more time before lowering himself down to your core. His free hand lifts the edge of your dress up and he takes his time rubbing slow circles into your clit, sighing out praises about how good you are when you shake from the unbearably intense sensation. His eyes stay on yours the whole time, even as he lowers his mouth to your pussy and eats you out like a man starved. It feels so good that you can barely process it, squirming against him and letting your eyes roll back.

“Fuck, Jungwoo,” You whimper, feeling your orgasm build up in the pit of your stomach. “Shit, c’mere.” You use the hand buried in his hair to tug him up, pressing his lips to yours for a sloppy kiss that feels way too good for the moment. He rubs messy circles into your clit that have you clutching him tight to your chest, crying out his name so loud that you’re sure the entire city can hear you. “You like that?” Jungwoo asks, although his voice is so cocky that you’re almost entirely sure he knows the answer. “Fucking love it,” You pant out, orgasm so close you can taste. “Love you, ohmygod.” The end of your sentence cuts off with a whine as you come so hard you nearly black out, holding onto him so tightly you’re sure you would’ve broken at least one of his bones if this were real.

If this were real, if he were real. If this wasn’t a dream with a ghost. The realization washes over you like cold water and the dream disappears before you in a flash, leaving you trembling and empty in more ways than one. Your hand is tingling and when you look at it, you realize that Jungwoo didn’t let go the entire time.

You’re not in your bed when you wake up. It takes you a moment to realize it, the weight of your dream still heavy on your mind, but then you open your eyes and process your surroundings and realize that even though you’re awake, you’re back in your nightmares.

A scream leaves you and you jolt out of the chair, falling flat on your ass. You scramble backwards a good few feet before relaxing, realizing that your mind was just playing tricks on you. This is no nightmare place, it’s just your basement. Except…

That chair is definitely the chair from your nightmares- or well, Jungwoo’s murder. You’ve never seen it down here before, but then again, you never go into the basement. It’s been years since you’ve been down here, the room always giving you the creeps. And you’ve never sleepwalked- you can’t fathom why you’d be down here.

“Jungwoo?” You whisper, not even flinching at the gust of cold air as he materializes next to you. “Why am I down here?” “This is where I was murdered.” Jungwoo murmurs, his gaze distant, cloudy. You furrow your eyebrows.

“Here? Are you sure?” He nods strongly, not an ounce of hesitation on his face. You get to your feet and watch him pace around, tentatively poking at objects. A violent shudder runs through him when he touches the chair. “Jungwoo, this is my house.” He freezes. “This is your house? Then you must know who murdered me.”

There’s a long second where you just stare at him, not knowing what to say. Thoughts abandon you and your mind goes blank, leaving you to shake your head and stutter out objections. “W- No, Jungwoo, I can’t-” A deep breath, a heavy exhale. “No one ever comes down here, and I can’t remember the last time I even had people here.”

“Well someone had to come down here!” Jungwoo presses, motioning at himself. “Y/n, I’m dead. You could help me find who killed me.”

You spend hours thinking through every person you know, mulling over all of your friends and anyone else who has ever been to your house. Parents are ruled out immediately- they live across the country, first off, and your mom nearly cries whenever she so much as swats a fly. Jungwoo tries to help, but he doesn’t know anyone the way that you do, and he’s a tad bit negative.

“Okay, but how do you know they’re not killers.” He asks, tone flat. “I mean, do you have hard evidence? Because somehow none of them are killers, and yet…” He smiles humorlessly and holds his arms out, doing a twirl for you. “I’m dead.” “I’m trying.” You say tiredly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s just hard. Literally no one ever comes over, and I can’t picture my friends as killers. Plus, no one has access to my house except for me.” You purse your lips, staring at your sad little notepaper list with dozens of names scratched out. “Is it possible this happened before I lived here?” Jungwoo shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.” He doesn’t look convinced.

You purse your lips, groaning in defeat when your mind stays blank. “I’m sorry, Woo. We’ll figure it out eventually, I promise. I just can’t think right now.” “Hey, it’s okay. Thank you for helping and not like, I don’t know, calling an exorcist.” Jungwoo presses himself to your side, poking your cheek when you laugh, and his presence is so comforting that it’s easy to forget that he’s not really there. You swat at him good naturedly, your laugh cutting off early when you realize that he’s disappeared. You call for him a few times, panic racing through your mind, until he manifests again a few feet away from you.

“Ohmygod, I’m so sorry! Did that hurt you? I didn’t know that would happen!” You jump to your feet, reaching out to him on impulse before thinking better of it.

Jungwoo laughs softly, but his form flickers. “It’s okay. I guess you can only touch me in dreams.” He smiles, but it’s with his mouth closed tight. The chair becomes visible through his form as he flickers again.

The mention of touch jolts your memories and you scratch the back of your neck nervously. “Wait, Woo, I meant to ask.” He looks at you expectantly, humming for you to go on. “Last night, in the dream. Was that like, was that really you?” “Hm? Are you asking if it was real or not?” Jungwoo asks. You nod, unable to look away from his gaze. “It was me, y/n. I’m real.”

You nod, lips pursed as you think it over. Jungwoo smiles though it’s hollow, hard to see the usual light in him when he’s nearly translucent again. “I’ll see you tonight?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before vanishing, leaving you alone in the cold basement.

“Yeah.” You whisper softly, a dark cloud hanging over your head.

“What’s in the bag?” Johnny asks you, nodding towards your bookbag. It’s normally empty, save for a notebook or wallet, but today it’s stuffed full of newspaper clippings and binders.

“Nothing.” You shrug. “Just some old articles.”

Johnny thumbs through a stack of the papers before looking up at you, his forehead creased. “On murders?”

“Yeah. They’re interesting. Figured I should know the history of the town I live in, right?” You take a sip of your coffee, hoping you don’t look as insane as you feel. It’d taken you hours of searching to find those articles, digging through the library archives and reading murder after murder to find ones that seemed similar to Jungwoo’s case. They were unsettling, to say the least, and the fact that someone had taken a life under your own roof left you jittery. “I mean, I guess?” Johnny shakes his head and thumbs through a few more, hesitating at one of the clippings before shoving them back in your bag. “Kind of an appetite killer.” He says, pausing after a second and laughing. “Hah, get it? Killer…” The cold stare you give him has him sobering up quickly. He clears his throat. “Anyways. What else have you been up to? You’ve been kinda distant lately.” Have you been? Probably. “Sorry.” You shrug. “Caught up in my work, you know how it is.” Johnny wiggles his eyebrows. “Seeing a new man?” You shoot him a withering look. He throws his hands up innocently. “Woman? Person?”

The word ‘ghost’ is on the tip of your tongue, but that sounds insane even to you. You can’t be seeing someone whose body fades out of existence when you so much as blow air on him too strongly. “No, Johnny. I’d tell you if I was dating someone.” “Promise?” He asks. You hold your pinky out to him, interlocking the digits and offering him a smile. He grins back. “Good. You wanna come over tonight? Play some video games, order some pizza?”

It sounds good, and you really don’t want to be alone at your house after discovering it was the site of a murder, but you don’t want to leave Jungwoo. He’s kind of counting on you for something big, plus you have all those articles to show him…

At your hesitation, Johnny pouts. “Come on, I feel like I’ve barely seen you for like, a month. Please? It’ll be just like old times.” The promise of old times has your resolve fading, and you give into his whining. He cheers and knocks your coffees together, dramatically complaining when the liquid splashes onto his sleeve.

Taking a nap had seemed like a great idea when you had gotten home from lunch, but it’s the first time you’ve dreamt without Jungwoo in your dreams, and all of the nightmares were so genuinely disturbing that you wake up sobbing. Every room seems so foreboding that you can’t bring yourself to sit in the house any longer and you run out the door without any further thought. The rain soaks through your thin sleep clothes and you find that you have three missed calls from Johnny, but you don’t bother to call him back. You’ll be at his place soon enough, and the rain is starting to blue the screen too much for you to see. Or maybe it’s your tears, you can’t be sure, and you really don’t care.

You knock on Johnny’s door, stepping back and impatiently shifting from foot to foot before stepping forward and knocking again. Exhaling harshly, you raise your fist to knock again. The door opens.

A very disgruntled Johnny stands before you, one hand wiping at his face. His hair is disheveled and you have the conscious thought that he must have just woken up, but your brain is flying a million miles a second and you don’t have time to spend worrying about if you’ve interrupted his beauty sleep. “Y/n?” Johnny yawns out, opening the door wider. “You were supposed to come over like 3 hours ago.” His sentence goes unfinished as you push past him, grabbing his wrist and dragging him to the living room. With your hands on his shoulders, you push him down to sit on the couch. He looks less tired and more confused now, which makes sense considering he’s never seen you act like this- you’re not even sure that you’ve ever acted like this- but he keeps silent, trusting you enough to tell him what the fuck is going on. He patiently puts his hands on his knees, watching you pace around the area.

It takes you a while to formulate exactly what to say to him. How exactly do you tell your best friend that you’ve been helping a ghost solve his own murder without him attempting to send you to a psych ward? After a few moments of pacing, in which you accidentally leave a trail of muddy footprints on Johnny’s carpet, you pause.

“This is going to sound insane.” You start, facing Johnny. He nods encouragingly, motioning for you to go on. “I need you to believe me. Promise me that you’ll hear me out until the very end.” Johnny nods. “No, I need you to promise me.” Maybe it’s how frantic your voice sounds, or the fact that you’re soaking wet and still breathing heavily from your run, but Johnny promises without hesitation. His voice is soft and his eyes are wide and you thank God for giving you such a good best friend. You search his eyes with your own, and finding nothing but encouragement and trust, you begin.

“Okay, so. You know those nightmares I’ve been having?” A nod. “Okay, so apparently there’s a ghost living in my house that’s been like, projecting their memories onto me.” Johnny blinks, not even trying to hide the skeptical look on his face. “Before you say anything, I know it sounds crazy. But ghosts are real. Jungwoo- Jungwoo’s real.” Johnny inhales sharply. “His name is Jungwoo?”

“Yeah. He was murdered 4 years ago in my basement. My basement, Johnny.” You take a deep breath, shuddering. “Whoever did it is still out there, and Jungwoo thinks that his brother might be in danger.” You shift anxiously from foot to foot, hands wringing together in front of you until Johnny takes them into his own, thumbs rubbing over the backs of your hands to calm you. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but can you help me find him? I just need to make sure that he’s okay, and I know it’s silly that I promised a ghost but-” “I’ll help.” There’s a reassuring smile on Johnny’s face when he interrupts you, and you breath out in relief. “It’s okay, y/n. I believe you.”

You launch yourself forward into his arms, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don’t deserve you.” Johnny laughs. “Yeah, you don’t.” He pulls back from the hug long enough to look you in the eyes. “For right now, let's go to bed, yeah? You really look like you need some rest.”

“Okay, so here’s his address. I mean, I think it’s his address.” Johnny looks over your shoulder at the satellite image of Mark’s house, nodding. “We can get there in about two hours.” Johnny hums, stepping away from the computer. “I can get us there faster than that, don’t worry. C’mon, let’s have some coffee and then we can go.” He makes sure you eat something that actually has nutritional value before you go, even going as far as to pack a bag before you hit the road. Johnny does his best to reassure you throughout the drive, but you’re a nervous mess. You compulsively take sips from the water bottle Johnny had forced you to take with and it’s empty in no time, leaving you to drum your fingers along your thighs and squirm with a full bladder.

The house looks so much bigger, so much more foreboding in person. Johnny gives you a reassuring look and after a deep breath, you knock on the door. It takes a few seconds before it creaks open to reveal a man around your age peering at you through black-rimmed glasses that sit crookedly on his face. “Hello?” “Hi, Mark?” he nods, looking you up and down. “Do you have a moment to talk? I just have a few questions, it w-” He’s already moving to close the door before the sentence is even out of your mouth. “Wait, Mark!” You manage to wedge your foot in the door before it closes and he groans, rolling his eyes.

“Look, I’m really not in the mood to buy anything, so if you could just please-” He tries again. “It’s about your brother!” You exclaim, finally succeeding in getting Mark to listen. He freezes and stares down at you dumbly. His eyes stay on you for a little too long before lifting to look behind you.

“Johnny?” Mark asks, eyes widening. “Is that you?” You look over to find Johnny standing behind you, a soft smile on his face. “Yeah, it’s me. How you doin, kid?”

Mark lets you into the house after tackling Johnny into a hug, offering you tea and a seat on the couch. “I didn’t know you knew Jungwoo,” You whisper to Johnny, watching Mark grab cups from the kitchen.

Johnny shrugs. “Never had a reason to bring him up.” He definitely could’ve brought him up earlier, like when you mentioned you were seeing his ghost, but you brush it off as nothing. Maybe he didn’t want to upset you.

Mark returns, offering you each a cup of tea before taking a seat on the couch opposite you. “Wow, it’s been so long.” Mark laughs, clutching his tea for dear life. “It’s so good to see friends of Jungwoo’s again. It’s like, it’s not the same as seeing him but. It’s nice.”

“Good to see you too, Mark.” Johnny smiles. “I looked all over for you after Jungwoo’s death, but I couldn’t find you. When did you move?” Mark sniffs. “Um, I think like a month after it happened. They arrested the guy that killed him and I dipped. It was too painful to see all those little reminders of him everywhere.” Mark sniffs again, and wipes harshly at his eye. It makes you tear up a little too, thinking about how fondly Jungwoo talked about his brother, how unfair it is that they got ripped apart so soon. One phrase sticks out to you and you manage to reel yourself back in before you start crying too hard.

“Wait, they caught the guy? Do you know who killed him?” You side eye Johnny because he must have known that the killer was caught already, and it doesn’t make sense that he didn’t tell you considering that was the sole reason for this trip.

“Um, well. Jungwoo uh, he had a sort of accident.” His hands are shaking, you notice. Some tea spills onto his leg. “He used to go out to all these parties and he swore he’d be safe but I guess he slipped up this one time.” Mark takes a deep breath and his voice cracks. “He was driving home from a party and he probably thought he was fine but he was way too drunk and he hit a pedestrian. He drove away but her boyfriend saw the whole thing and followed him.” Mark drops his head down and sobs a little.

Johnny moves to comfort him and Mark calms down after a few moments, skillfully changing the topic away from his dead brother. All the water that you drank in the car finally catches up to you and you excuse yourself for a second. Mark’s laughter rings clearly from the living room and you can’t help but to laugh too, smiling at Johnny’s ability to make everyone happy. You fix your hair in the mirror, a little spring in your step at the thought of being able to fulfill your promise to Jungwoo.

You wish he was with you right now as you walk down the hallway back to the living room. There are so many pictures on the walls, Mark’s accomplishments framed proudly. It sends an ache through your heart that you’re here to see all of this by yourself. It’s only then, when you’re picturing Jungwoo exploring the house with you, that you realize how quiet it’s gotten.

Frowning, you call out Johnny’s name. You get no response and call out again, finally catching movement out of the corner of your eye. “Johnny, why’d you sneak up on me?” A laugh leaves you when you turn to fully face him, cutting off only at the flash of color that slowly fades to black.

Your head is throbbing when you come to, vision taking a few seconds to clear up. A groan leaves you and you shake your head softly, coming face to face with Mark. A Mark whose mouth is covered with duct tape. You freeze, eyes widening, then look down to find that the rest of him is bound, too. “What-”

Panic surges through you when you realize that your hands and ankles are bound too, and you jerk your head to the side, frantically searching to make sure that Johnny’s okay. You don’t find him. It’s only you and Mark in the room. “Johnny? Hey, whoever the fuck has us down here better leave Johnny the fuck alone!” You might currently be tied up, but the fact that your best friend is missing and potentially hurt overtakes any concern you may have for yourself. Mark’s eyes widen and he shakes his head frantically. You furrow your eyebrows and go to ask what he means, but you don’t get the chance.

“Oh, don’t worry. Johnny’s just fine.” The sentence comes from the man himself, standing right in front of the door. Relief fills you, turning to dread the second he closes the door and flips the lock. “You however…” “Johnny? What are you doing?” You ask, watching as he rolls his sleeves up to the elbow.

He tips his head to the side, looking at you with confusion. “Isn’t it obvious?” The glint in his eyes matches the knife he picks up, the dim light catching on the shine of the blade. “For someone who apparently experienced Jungwoo’s death dozens of times, you should be able to figure it out.”

You blink once, twice, and then your eyes bug so far out of your head you worry they might fall out. A soft wheeze leaves you as your chest constricts, panic blooming in your gut. Johnny wheezes too, but his is a wheeze of laughter. He’s amused.

His eyes slide down to Mark, whose eyes are glimmering with fresh tears. “Did you know it was me Mark? Did you know it was me who killed your brother?” The boy shakes his head frantically, tears free-falling down his cheeks now. There’s some muffled cries that you think sound like no, but the tape traps them and makes him incomprehensible. “Really?” Johnny asks, stepping forward until he reaches Mark and then squatting down in front of him.

“Liar.” Johnny whispers, dragging the syllables out. The point of the knife presses into the boys throat, and while the noise Mark makes is barely audible, you can feel his suffering. There’s a tense moment as Johnny increases the pressure, Mark leaning backwards as far as he can to get away, before Johnny pulls it away. Mark exhales strongly, relaxing a little bit. He’s still crying. “It doesn’t matter, though.”

Tears would probably be rolling down your cheeks if you could process what was happening. But shock has taken ahold of you, and you can only watch helplessly as Johnny turns to glance back at you. “Thanks to y/n, now you’ll never get the chance to tell anyone.”

Johnny whips back around in record speed and slices the knife right through Mark’s throat.

A scream leaves you and you fall forward, unable to do anything but watch in horror as the line in Mark’s neck wells with blood, the poor boy convulsing in horror. A wretched gurgling noise leaves him as he chokes and frantically gasps for air, made even worse by the duct tape over his mouth. Johnny sets the knife down delicately and uses that hand to pinch his fingers over Mark’s nose, effectively shutting off his air-flow. The fight drains out of Mark’s body along with his life, and it’s just a few more seconds before he stills completely.

You can’t think of anything to say, can just gape at Mark’s body as Johnny lets go of him and the boy hits the floor. Johnny turns to you next, picking the knife back up.

“It’s a shame you’re always so curious, y/n.” Johnny sighs, shaking his head. “You’re my best friend, I’m going to miss you.”

There’s the faintest breeze against your cheek bone, your hair blowing to tickle the back of your neck. You try your best not to shiver when it starts blowing against your wrists. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s not a draft from an open window, but it’s Jungwoo. He’s not visible, probably because he’s focusing his energy on freeing you. If Johnny notices anything wrong, he doesn’t say anything. Your wrists aren’t free yet, but you can feel the rope loosening. If you can buy yourself some more time…

“Why are you doing this? Why did you kill Jungwoo in the first place?” Your question obviously catches Johnny off guard and he stops walking, glancing off to the side and sighing softly. He seems to have an internal debate but then he shrugs, settling down on the floor across from you. It calms you a little to have him seated instead of looming over you, and you try your best to stay absolutely still.

When Johnny speaks, there’s a hint of regret in his voice. It’s hard to tell if it’s manufactured or not. “Jungwoo and I were best friends. We always had each others backs, always told each other everything. Ride or dies.” His eyes lower to his knife and he smears the blood around the blade with his thumb. “I was the one who hit the girl. I was drunk and it was stupid, but when I called Jungwoo to help me get rid of the body, he refused. He wanted to call the police, y/n. The police.” His eyes are brimming with tears now, and he looks up at you with an urgency that tells you to believe him. You don’t of course, and you can’t tell if he’s trying to convince you of his innocence, or himself. “My own best friend wanted to turn me in, y/n. I couldn’t let him do it.”

“How did you even get into my basement?”

“You were at a training retreat in the mountains for that job you ended up hating that weekend. I knew that your house was empty and where the spare key was, plus I knew that no one ever went into your basement.” Johnny shrugs. “His body’s in the backyard, in case you were wondering. Buried him under the dahlias.” The red dahlias, your mothers favorite plant. How many times had she gone out to water and tend to the flowers, unknowing of the poor boy who lay beneath? Your breath catches in your throat and you finally can feel tears pricking the back of your eyelids.

“You’re sick.” The sentence is barely above a whisper, but it carries enough weight with it. Johnny’s entire demeanor changes, his face twisting into an ugly scowl.

“I’m sick? I’m not the one that was going to betray my best friend by letting him rot in jail! How fucking dare you.” The ropes fall off of your wrists and you grab onto them to prevent them from hitting the ground and alerting Johnny. All that’s left is the rope on your ankle, and then you can make your move. “Yeah? Aren’t you betraying your best friend right now? Just like you did last time?” “I should’ve used the duct tape on you.” He murmurs, tightening his hold on the knife.

There’s enough give in the ropes that you can wiggle your ankles. You just need a few more seconds. “Why didn’t you?” “Ran out.” Johnny breathes, lunging at you. You squeak and roll to the side, groaning when your legs refuse to function. Sitting on them for so long made them feel like jelly and they tingle as the blood rushes back to your limbs. “What the- you little bitch.”

Johnny attacks again and you dodge yet again, doing nothing but rolling around and avoiding him. You definitely can’t beat him in a physical fight, but you can probably beat him in other ways.

Johnny’s breath catches in his throat. “J-Jungwoo?” He stops moving, obviously trying to process how someone who is clearly dead can stand in front of him. Unfortunately, his body doesn’t quite get the memo, and he trips over Mark’s form. A sickly thud resonates through the room as he falls, followed by a deafening silence.

When Johnny doesn’t move for a few seconds, you step closer to examine him. The first thing you notice is that there’s a little stain under his chest that’s steadily getting bigger, contrasting starkly against the wooden floor. The second thing you notice is the acrid stench of blood, too strong for the small room you’re in. Third is the tip of the blade sticking out of his back. After checking his pulse and finding nothing, you roll him over. You find the hilt of his knife sticking out of his chest and your breath catches in your throat. He must’ve landed on it when he tripped. You slump against the wall and try to catch your breath, staring at Johnny’s limp body and waiting for him to lunge at you.

He never does. You look up to say thank you to Jungwoo, but you don’t get a chance. He looks right at his brother’s limp body and disappears, leaving you alone in the room.

You sleep as much as you can, hoping that Jungwoo will pop up in your dreams again. You cry when you sleep and you cry when you wake, until you get to the point where your eyes burn and your face swells and you can’t physically cry anymore. You cry until you’re exhausted and yet you can’t sleep, can only frustratingly toss and turn and scream silently through your raw throat, praying to a god that you don’t believe in to let you see Jungwoo, just one more time. That’s all you need. Just one more time to say goodbye.

Promises are mumbled into your pillow and chanted in your mind but there’s only so much you can do to keep them. You swear to never forget Jungwoo but the words are meaningless and do nothing to stop his face from fading. Slowly, his features become less clear in your mind, his laugh blending with countless others until you can’t differentiate them. You get him a proper grave in a cemetery, and you go from visiting his grave every day to going every few days, until weeks pass before you remember you wanted to leave flowers for him. The flowers last even less than your promises, wilting and rotting on the stone, becoming a sadly unrecognizable mess. You do your best to clean it, and you cry so hard the first time you see the mess that you almost black out, but it’s now a sight that doesn’t even phase you.

Time doesn’t stop to wait for you. It’s not long before you finish grad school and get a job offer in a city 1500 miles away, much different from this one. Your sister drives down to help you pack, easily helping you throw things that you need into a suitcase and counteracting your hoarding tendencies. Something catches your eye just as you’re leaving and you pick it up, frowning at the little resin flower.

“What’s that?” your sister asks, leaning in over your shoulder. “Is that a dahlia?”

“I don’t know.” you furrow your eyebrows, trying to place why it seems so familiar, before shrugging. It makes a hollow sound when you toss it into the trash that seems to echo much too loud for such a tiny object.

She heaves your suitcase into your arms. “Ready?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

You don’t look back.

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