#legs akimbo in your face in his face oh so NOW he can do a spinning back kick

[snackugaki]

boys from the bay(verse)

it’s nap time, you little shit

[dira333]

My Neighbour Totoro/Taketora - Yamamoto x Reader

Haikyuu meets Ghibli. Giving Yamamoto a bit of a calmer spin this time. Tagging @alienaiver for her love for Ghibli

The sun burns down on the village, the hills of blinding green.

Taketora’s nose is pressed against the window as he’s fighting against the pull of sleep. His handheld game died hours ago, the battery died and there’s nothing to do but watch as birds fly by.

“Look!” Akane pulls on his sleeve, pointing out her window. “A ghost!”

He blinks and turns, but there’s nothing to see, just more and more fields and a little stream cutting through them.

“You must have imagined it,” he says, knowing her active imagination.

“Did not!” She huffs, crossing her arms.

“Don’t fight!” Their father calls out softly, “We’re almost there.”

There… that’s the house in the hills grandma used to live in. She moved into the city a few years ago, just shortly after Akane was born. Taketora can barely remember what it looked like, her house. He remembers sitting on a warm lap and the taste of tomatoes warmed from the sun. He remembers running after cats and the smell of freshly cut grass.

“Are we here?” Akane asks the moment the car stops.

“Yep. We’re here.”

“Yay!” She struggles against her seat belt, barely has the patience to wait until Taketora unclips her. 

But as soon as she’s freed she slips out of the car and races up the steps, bursting through the door.

“Hey! Wait for me!” He calls after her but it’s a hopeless case.

He’s not yet made it to the front door when Akane comes running again, her face smeared with dust. She leaps into him, arms and legs slung around him like she’s a monkey and he’s the tree.

“Tora!” She yelps, panicked. “There are things! Creepy crawly things!”

“Ah,” a new voice says, old and dusty and warm. Taketora looks up to see an old woman smiling at him from the hedge. “Those are susuwatari. They don’t do anything.”

“Susu-what?” Taketora asks, Akane’s face pressed into his chest.

“Susuwatari. Little soot spirits. They like dirty places. But they don’t do anything except prank you if you forget to clean up.”

“Are you sure?” Akane asks. 

“Oh yes, my grandchild has played a lot with them. You’ll meet her later.”

“A girl?” Akane’s now hanging off him like she’s trying to use him as a swing. “There’s a girl here? A real girl I can play with?”

“Oh, yes. I think she’s your brother’s age, but I’m sure she’ll play with you if you ask.”

-

“It’s the ghost!” Akane crows from the window, “There! At the hedge!”

He’s out in a heartbeat, racing down the path toward the vegetable garden. There’s something white floating near the shrubs and he catches it before it can turn the corner.

It’s a girl. Nose smeared with dirt and hands filled with freshly plucked raspberry’s, dressed in a white shirt so large it makes you look like a duvet cover with legs.

“BLEH!” You stick your tongue out at him and take off yet again - or at least try to.

The grandmother from next door stops you, arms akimbo. 

“Now, is that how you treat other children?”

You turn back sheepish, hands upturned to offer you what you’ve got, raspberry juice dyeing your fingers red.

“Did you catch the ghost?” Akane’s at the door too, spooking you.

“It’s a girl!” Akane’s at your side in heartbeat, clinging to your leg. “Can you play with me? Do you have dolls too? Do you think boys are stupid or do you think they are nice? My brother is nice most of the time-”

“Breathe,” Taketora puts a hand on her curly head. “She can’t answer if you don’t take breaks.”

-

You don’t have dolls but you don’t seem to have made up your mind about him either.

Akane still drags him along on their travels through the garden. This is where you talk the most.

“Are there any other spirits?” Akane asks, excited for more after you’ve told her more about the Susuwatari.

“There’s Totoro,” you say, finger pressed against your nose as you’re thinking. “He’s really big. Like, reeaaally big!” You open your arms wide to show it. “He’s very fluffy and he likes to sleep a lot. There’s one who looks like a rabbit too, but I haven’t found out his name yet. He’s very shy, I think.”

“I wanna meet them!” Akane declares, looking at him for support. “You too, right Tora?”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “They sound cool.” 

“Cool?” You say, brows pinched together as you consider that word. You don’t seem so sure of it.

-

“Do you know the hospital near here?” Taketora asks two days later when the rain pelts against the window and Akane’s napping in your lap. He’s lost this level too many times to count and he’s getting bored.

“Yes.”

“Is it close? Can we go visit mother?”

You shrug. “I don’t know.”

“But you just said you know it.”

“I’ve only ever been to by bus. And we always have to call first before we come in. I don’t know if you can just go and visit.”

“Oh.” He hesitates. “Who do you visit?”

“My aunt,” You explain simply. “She lives there. Who do you want to visit?”

“Our mother. She’s only there for this summer, to get better.”

“Mhm.” You make, dragging your hands through Akane’s hair. 

Silence drapes over you like a blanket.

“What’s it like,” you ask, voice carefully poised. “To have a mother?”

-

“I found Totoro!” Akane declares one evening, her face smeared with dust. “I got to sleep on him.”

“You got to sleep on who?” Their father asks, putting a bowl of ramen in front of her.

“Totoro! That’s one of the forest spirits here.”

“Oh, a forest spirit? That’s exciting.”

-

“Do you wanna play ball?” Taketora asks, his feet on the sun-warmed stones outside, your feet on the cold wooden floor inside. He hasn’t seen you in two days because they went and visited their mother, brought back sweets - and a new ball to play with.

You look unsure and he knows he feels it too. This friendship is fragile, like spider webs in the wind or the thin new ice spreading over puddles.

“Akane thinks she’s met Totoro,” he tells you, Volleyball heavy in his hands. “She slept on him too.”

“It’s our neighbour’s dog.” You explain. “You don’t have to make up stuff for me.”

“Why not?” He asks, “It’s nice.”

“It’s lonely.”

Taketora knows Akane’s back at the house, waiting. He knows your Granny is probably just in the other room. He knows he wants to be anywhere but here, sludging through this conversation, yet who else is going to go through it with you?

“When we go back,” he says, “I could write you. Like, real letters. Mom always says I should practice my writing anyway. Nothing happens much in the city, so maybe a letter a week?”

You chew on your lower lip. “You’d do that?”

“Only if you write me back. And if you want, you can come and stay with us too, you know? Or we come and stay with you.”

“I can’t leave Granny behind,” you explain, already looking a little less sorrowful. “But you can come anytime.”

Tora stretches out his hand, pinky first. 

“Let’s promise,” he says. “Pinky Promise.”

- - - xxx - - -

His mom says that this summer changed him, both of them.

And maybe it has because it changed her too. 

She comes home a healthy woman, with rosy cheeks and an appetite for life.

He leaves behind the fear of losing her and a newfound joy for being outside. 

He can get angry now, call things unfair when he feels them, without the need to be quiet and tiptoe around the sick.

Akane’s grown louder too, drawing pictures of Susuwatari and Totoro’s, big and small. When she’s six years old she asks for something to take pictures with and spends days outside trying to capture things that no one else sees. A colorful beetle, a button that looked spooky to her, or the sky on a rainy day.

They don’t go back though. A few months after they left they got an offer for the house, too good to refuse.

Vacations are spent at the beach or in the mountains, or at home, training for the next match and ignoring the mountain of homework that never goes away.

And every month, without fail, his mom waves at him with a letter when he gets home, smiling from one ear to the other.

“Your friend wrote. To you too, Akane.”

- - - xxx - - -

“We made it,” he writes, chewing on a pen. “Going to Nationals again this year.”

“That’s amazing,” his phone pings with your answer, “We’re going too.”

“Really?” He hesitates. Wait, does this mean-? “Tokyo?”

“Of course, stupid.”

“Hey.”

“I probably won’t even recognize you,” you write. He wonders how your voice would sound if you said it out loud. Sad? Lonely? But you do have more friends now, he knows, ever since you got into that boarding school.

“I’m not hard to miss,” he types. “Red jacket, blond mohawk. What do you look like?”

“Purple jacket.”

“I could send you a picture,” he offers, hoping you will send one back. Maybe you’re ugly, with a crooked nose and warts and missing teeth. That would make him less nervous to see you again.

“Sure,” you type and he hesitates, swallows around a lump at the prospect. Should he take a new picture right now? Or send in the one they did for school? But he’s scowling there.

Akane walks past his room and he calls out her name, pressing his phone into her hand before he can think too much about it. 

“Take a picture of me.”

“Oh?” She grins, not wasting a second. “Here, sent it.”

“What?!” He rips the phone out of her hands. “Which one? You should have let me pick.”

“Nah, you have to do it like a band-aid. Just ript it off and get it over with.”

“But-”

Akane pats him on the shoulder, so grown and yet so small. “Get over it.”

He doesn’t get a picture back.

- - - xxx - - -

“Taketora!” 

He turns, half expecting Kuroo to yell at him about something - despite the fact that his captain is walking in front of him. 

There’s a group of girls at the stairs, all of them in purple jackets and one cuter than the next. He swallows nervously as they all seem to look in his direction. 

Did he do something?

“What?!” He asks, sounding more angry than nervous - thank god.

One of them waves, says something to the one standing next to her and begins jogging over.

Purple jacket, his brain supplies. Nothing. 

Purple jacket, his brain reminds him again. Still nothing.

It’s only when you’re two steps away and he can hear Yaku mumble a “What did he do this time?” behind him that it shoots through him like lightning, a surprise so unwelcome it could have been a cramp. It’s you. 

“Shit, you look pretty,” he says, the words tumbling out of his mouth like rocks down a mountain. 

You stop, clearly as surprised about his comment as the boys around him, one of them kneeing him in the back - Thanks, Yaku.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” You ask, looking over his teammates. “Or are you in a rush? I’ve got ten minutes but I don’t know when I see you again.”

Rough hands push him forward before he can answer and you giggle, a sound so new and thrilling it makes shivers run down his back.

There’s a small hallway leading away from the masses of people and you step into it, suddenly much too close for comfort.

You smell like flowers and air salonpas instead of dirt and sweat like the last time he saw you.

You’re pretty, too, much too pretty for his poor heart, and so so close.

“I missed you,” you say when you turn to him and if he hadn’t been red in the face before, he certainly is now.

“I too. I mean I missed you, not me. I can’t miss me, because I am me.”

Warm lips press against his cheek. His brain stops working altogether and all he can hear for a moment is a shrill whistle, like a teapot when the water boils.

“I was a little scared,” you say or maybe you said something else and he only just heard you now, “That you wouldn’t like me any more now. But you do, right? You still like me?”

“Are you kidding me?” Taketora asks, waving his hands around, trying to make sense of what he’s feeling. “Are you freaking kidding me? When? How? Why?”

“Volleyball,” you say, shrugging. “And not being lonely, I guess. Are you going to watch my games?”

“Of course!” He nods eagerly, “I’ll tell everyone that I know you.”

You laugh. “I’ll do the same. I’ll yell extra loud when you score. This is my boyfriend or somethhhh-” You stop mid-word, realizing what you just said. Your eyes widen just as his heart picks up where it left off a second ago, making up for its missed beats with double the speed.

“Boyfriend?” He asks, voice high. “Like, for real?”

You shrug a little helplessly. “If you want?”

“Of course!” He nods, probably a bit too eager. “Of course. I gotta win now if you’re watching.”

“And even if we don’t,” you say, stretching out your hand, pinky up. “We’re still friends, right?”

He hooks his pinky around yours and shakes it.

“Pinky Promise.”

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[oshibrainallday]

Between Two Lovers (Crius/Anastasia/Tyril sandwich)

Find this on AO3 here

"This...wasn't what I meant when I said yes to lessons, Master Tyril," Anastasia's voice is strained as she looks up at Tyril from where she stands behind the couch. "Although..." She then turns her gaze to Crius, who is lounging in the opposite couch with a smirk. "Why you've invited the Grand Commander is beyond me."

Tyril grumbles under his breath, "I didn't so much as invite him as he invited himself."

Hmm. The Grand Commander did occasionally butt in whenever Tyril came to find her, but it was usually during work hours when she was on duty. This time, it's after work and they were all at her home. Then again, both men were good friends and were often seen together at the tavern...

"I'm hurt, my adorable subordinate," Crius simpers and crosses his arms and legs, stretching the leather fabric tight over his well-muscled thighs. "Do you not want me here?"

She can feel a headache coming on.

Sighing, Anastasia shakes her head, "I didn't say that..."

"See, Tyr? Told you she wouldn't mind," Crius crows to Tyril, who has a disgruntled look on his face and who is glaring daggers at the viridian knight.

"I didn't say that either," Anastasia tries to say, but clearly it goes unheard as the men begin to bicker.

Tyril has his arms held akimbo now, spitting back at Crius, "She asked me first and she invited me over."

"Well you can't keep hogging her, Mister Loyal Servant of the Goddess, I want to spend time with her too!"

"You do. At work. Almost the entire day. Now just--"

The two men are clearly on a roll. As much as Anastasia wants to snap at them and tell them off like Maya would, she's oddly content to just sit there and watch. It's funny, anyway. Just like how they were arguing over her head in Rizoh, though it was much, much harder to keep her composure then.

Just the thought of it brings her back. Tyril's bare, leanly muscled upper body pressing against her back. Crius' broad, clothed form holding her against him. Both men's hands tight on her belly and lower back, holding her possessively as if they wanted her all to themself.

It was a pity she was wearing so many layers, but even then she could feel the warmth and weight of their hands, the solid heat of their bodies, and--

"Anastasia?"

Huh?

"Oi, stop spacing out."

A sharp tap to her forehead makes her cry out in surprise and Anastasia rubs at the spot, wincing up at...Tyril? The former inquisitor is now right in front of her and peers at her with affectionate annoyance. Ah, he caught her. Crius also looks at her with some concern from where he sits. Clearly the men were done with their playful bickering.

"Oh, sorry." She smiles sheepishly and shakes her head.

Tyril leans a hip against the arm of the couch and crosses his arms, conveniently blocking her line of sight to Crius. "That was an interesting look on your face while you were spacing out," he purrs, leaning in closer, close enough that his long bangs tickles her cheek. "What were you thinking about?"

Before she could blurt out 'nothing', quick footsteps approach and there is a solid presence by her arm. "Eh?" The scent of metal and polish and Garuda is familiar, as is the weight of the thick uniform pressing against her similarly clothed arm.

"Oh lay off it, Tyr," the Grand Commander croons from above her head, his arm coming around to brace it on the back of the couch, conveniently curling around her own back.

Like this, both men have caged her between them again. Just like in Rizoh.

Immediately, her face heats up.

Tyril is about to bite back when he notices the blush on her face. Instantly, the barb he poised to let loose turns into something silkier, "Oh?" Those soft, sinful lips turn up into a knowing smirk. "What, don't tell me you like this?"

His violet eyes peer into hers, searching her blushing face when she drops her gaze to his collar instead out of embarrassment. "Ah, let me guess. You're remembering that time in Rizoh. Too bad I've got my clothes on this time, eh?"

She stiffens up. Damn Tyril's perceptiveness; nothing gets past him.

"Oh?" Crius echoes, then his head dips down so that his lips brush the back of her head. Instantly, goosebumps, the good kind, make her skin prickle and cause a soft sound to slip from her tightly clenched teeth.

Both men exchange a glance over her head and smile. A silent agreement forms.

Their hands slide onto her body then. On her hips, her thigh, her ribs. Anastasia's breath catches in her throat and she whips her head up to look at Tyril with wide, ruby eyes. "M-Master Tyril--"

A nip to the shell of her ear makes her cry out.

"Don't forget me, Anastasia~" Crius purrs into her ear and sighs hotly, making her shiver all over.

"Grand Commander--I--wha--" Her stuttering doesn't make them any less smug. In fact, it seems only to spur them on.

Tyril bends his head and comes in close, so close that she can feel his breath on her lips. "So this is what you like, huh? Greedy girl." And then he catches her lips in a deep, searching kiss. The kind that takes her breath away and scrambles her thoughts.

Oh. Oh this is what it's like...

She's been kissed by him before, sure, but only ever to receive medicine during the Carnival several Fatal Rewinds ago. But this...

"Anastasia," Crius whispers in her ear, kissing down to the back of it, over the back curve of her jaw, and then to the column of her neck until he's obstructed by her tie. "Would you do us the honour of sharing you tonight?"

'Us'???

Sh-sharing?

Tonight?!

Breaking away from Tyril's kiss, Anastasia heaves for breath and scrambles for two brain cells to rub together. "Nghh how can you--" A wet kiss to her neck promptly scatters her thoughts again. "How can you ask me that when you're--" A soft snicker, then a lick to her lower lip, followed by the scrape of teeth. "You're--I can't think...!"

"That's the point," Tyril grins and kisses her properly again.

Someone's hand travels up to grasp her breast through her shirt, squeezing firmly, but gently, and she gasps with an arch of her back. "Mmh!"

"Such sweet noises," Crius murmurs into her neck. Another hand comes up to undo her tie, the brooch, and her buttoned up shirt. Whoever it is can't get past the vest, not just yet, but they pull her shirt apart enough to bare her breasts to the cool night air.

"Ah!"

The cut of her vest, more like a bustier than anything, doesn't do much to preserve her modesty without a shirt. Like this, with her shirt pulled apart, her nipples are only barely covered, and every heave of her chest threatens to bare them entirely.

Entirely embarrassed by her current state of undress in comparison to the men, she raises her arms to cover her chest. Alas, she's intercepted by two hands grasping her wrists gently, urging them down to her sides.

Crius is the one who speaks right into her ear, "None of that. Let us see you."

Though Tyril is loathe to leave her mouth be, clearly her cleavage poses a more tempting target and he dives down to lick the curve of her breast. "A-ah!" she cries out, her chin tipping up without conscious thought. "Maybe--nnh! I shouldn't be the only one half-exposed..."

"Pervert," Tyril teases her, his smile growing against her flushed skin.

"S-so what if I am?" She grows even warmer at the sight of his lips brushing ever closer to her perked nipple, her breath catching in her throat as his tongue flicks over the pebbled flesh. She manages to catch a moan behind her teeth, squeezing her thighs tight as that single touch sends lightning down her spine. Pooling between her legs.

Another hand, perhaps Crius', drifts to undo the catches to her vest, loosening it and parting it. Baring more of her pale skin now pink with the strength of her blush. "Far be it for me to deny you anything, Anastasia," Crius murmurs into the crook of her neck and he lets go of her.

Ah, his were the hands that undid her vest and at her left hand. For when he lets her go, Tyril's are on the curve of her rib and on her right wrist. Well, she doesn't have long to figure this out, because the moment Crius steps away, Tyril is leading her towards her bed and pushing her atop it.

Her mind is in a fog in the best of ways and she doesn't resist, falling on the soft surface with a quiet sound. Cool air drifts across her now bare chest until her sternum, where her shirt is still buttoned up. But it isn't long before Tyril is crawling atop her, his knees between hers, with a smile on his face.

"You look good enough to eat," he murmurs softly as he kisses her and palms her breast.

Given what she's seen and went through, that's not the phrasing she would like to hear but she supposes there's a different connotation now. Especially since he touches her with such care and adoration, with a firm and hungry grip despite how patiently he does it.

"Thank you...?" It's the only response she can think of, really, but that seems to be enough for the foul-mouthed former Inquisitor.

"Tch, so polite," he needles her, his hands wandering down her front until he undoes the rest of the buttons with his dexterous fingers. Her vest comes off, then her blouse, leaving her in only her shorts, stockings and boots. But that doesn't last long as another set of hands chip in to strip her fully.

"H-hey!" she gasps, her face heating up again. If she ever blurted out how she enjoys having their hands on her...she'd never live it down. So she bites her tongue and just breathes heavily as she is left to lie under Tyril, completely bare.

From where she lies, she can see Crius moving away to put her discarded clothes in a laundry basket. Considerate as always. Though she takes advantage of his back being turned to admire the way the muscles of his bare back shifted--wait. Bare--

It's not like she hasn't seen him half-naked before, she's sure. The men occasionally trained without their shirts on in the hottest days of summer. But it's different now. Perhaps it's the way that he saunters towards her, a hungry glint to his eyes.

"Distracted? Can't have that." Tyril's voice snaps her out of her thoughts and she only has time to let out a soft 'huh?' before Tyril rolls to sit on the bed and pull her into his lap. Like this, she's facing him and giving her back to Crius. As he planned.

Her hands land on his broad shoulders, her knees on either side of his hips, and her barely clothed cunt lands right on the burgeoning erection in his trousers. Anastasia blushes so hard she reckons she could cook an egg on her face, her thighs clenching hard on his hips.

"Heh, what a cute expression," Tyril grins and dives to mouth at the underside of her jaw.

But he doesn't get a chance to linger. Not when warm, rough hands fall on her hips just above Tyril's and tugs her away. "Be a good friend and share, Tyr~"

"Oh fuck off..."

"What the--" Anastasia can only gasp as she is tugged onto her back on the bed, her thighs pressed open and splayed wide in one smooth motion. "Could you just--" she can't get out much more than that before Tyril leans down to capture her mouth with his.

"Fine, I'll be good and share," Tyril says to Crius. He twines Anastasia's hands together with his and pin them to his chest, leaving her wide open and helpless as he smirks down at her, "Whatever you're about to say, no." That expression is as teasing as ever, growing more mischievous the more she wriggles and squirms to escape his grip. Hands grip her panties and pull them off in short measure, leaving her bare.

"Don't hide from me~" Crius purrs from between her legs. His hands are big enough that he can hold her thighs open and pull apart her labia with his thumbs, exposing her entirely.

"H-hey!" It comes out in a strained moan and a hot flush of embarrassment. "Don't look at me there-!"

Tyril presses their cheeks together and looks down at Crius with her. Crius whose honeyed brown eyes are ravenous as he looks down at her slick pink slit, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips as though he were salivating. "Why not? Look at him, bet he's never looked at anything or anyone like that before."

"I have to taste you," Crius moans and dives in without waiting another second.

And the moment his hot mouth closes over her clit, Anastasia can't stop the whorishly loud moan that rips from her chest. Her thighs tremble and manage to escape Crius' grip, but they close instead around his ears and make him moan.

"By the Goddess, you taste amazing," Crius is undeterred as he moans and slurps her up, his talented tongue slipping and sliding all over her to take every single drop of her slick. His hands move to the backs of her knees, and with a single powerful move he spreads her wide open again.

Anastasia can't find the will to bite back at that, instead she squirms and cries out at the lewd, slick sounds that come from his mouth as he licks and sucks and nibbles at her cunt.

Tyril, meanwhile, presses his lips to her ear and chuckles darkly, purring, "I bet with his senses restored, your taste is nothing less than ambrosia to him."

A whimper escapes her and she shuts her eyes tight, her blush nearly burning her cheeks.

"None of that," Tyril chides her teasingly and nips at her ear lobe, just next to the earring that the four men had gifted her not long ago, and murmurs, "Look at him. Look at what his hunger for you has done to him."

Like most orders that Tyril has given her, Anastasia finds it hard to disobey and cracks her eyes open to stare hazily down at the Grand Commander of the Wings between her splayed thighs.

The viridian knight almost looks drunk as he devours her, his mouth and cheeks and chin glistening with her slick. His talented lips suck the soft skin of her labia between them, taking every bit of slick with him as he lets go with a pop. The other side gets much of the same treatment, and he refocuses on her clit once more.

Every suck, every growl, it all pulls dirty moan after dirty moan out of her. Anastasia can't stop herself from squirming or from rocking her hips from side to side from the sheer pleasure of it all, mussing her hair against Tyril's shoulder as she tucks her face into his neck out of embarrassment.

And when Crius stretches his tongue and stuffs it as far inside her as he can, she cries out in a choked voice, "Oh fuck, please-!"

"Tyr," Crius groans out. A request.

The former Inquisitor's face takes on a surprised expression, then a knowing one. "Sure."

Without another word, both men work together to lift Anastasia up off the mattress, their muscled arms and powerful forms handling her carefully and gently despite her cry of outrage and surprise. "What are you-?!"

"Getting you into a better position, duh."

Huh?!

She's given no time to react. Not when Tyril has shifted to the head of the bed, tugging her along with him and then atop him, her back to his chest. Somewhere along the way, he lost his cape and top, leaving him shirtless but with his white pants still on, and the incredible warmth of his chest makes her blush and squirm in his arms.

His thighs are muscular under her, bearing her weight easily and letting her rest her ass in the curve of his hips. Oh, is that--

"You're--" Hard. Is what she intends to say, but she is immediately distracted by those lean, tattooed arms looping under her knees and pulling her thighs wide and to the sides. "Hey! Agh this is so embarrassing...!"

One hand goes to cover her exposed cunt, the other to her face to cover her mouth in an uncharacteristically bashful move. No one has ever seen her like this, although she acknowledges it might be a bit late, considering how Crius had his face pressed between her thighs not two minutes before.

"I didn't take you the sort to be so shy, Anastasia," Tyril rumbles in her ear, his arms pulling her legs further up to her shoulders. He revels in the shy squeak that he pulls from her, chuckling and stretching the tips of his long fingers to rub teasingly against her puckered nipples.

"A-ahh!"

Crius hums in agreement, kneeling between their legs and reaching down to gently push her hand away. "You're beautiful, Anastasia, there's nothing to be shy about," he says reassuringly, leaning forward to catch her lips in a hungry kiss.

Oh. Oh, like this, she can taste something salty, musky, on his lips. Is that...her?

Crius is forceful in his kiss, as forceful as he was in eating her out, and what Tyril says rings in her head.

'Now that he has his senses back, your taste must be nothing less than ambrosia for him.'

She can see why that might be. From the way he kisses her breathless, to the way he kisses and licks down her body, and then to stuff his face into her sodden cunt again, it's evident that the Grand Commander is hungry.

But this time, in addition to the lips and tongue working at her clit, there's something blunt and warm and firm teasing at her slit. She inhales sharply as she realises what it is - a finger, blunt and thick, easing inside her with not a single bit of resistance.

"Aaahh!" Anastasia lolls her head to the side and shutters her eyes at the intrusion, which though she has never experienced its like before, is nevertheless welcome. And perhaps...wanted? It fills something in her that she now realises is achingly empty, and she bucks her hips with a soft moan. "More...!"

"That's our Anastasia," Tyril croons in her ear and bites at her neck. The cock pressed up against her backside twitches with her moans and wriggles, a temptation, a sign of things to come.

Another finger slips inside her, stretching her in the best way possible. Hells, if this is what she's been missing out on...

As always, Tyril picks up on her thoughts, pressing their mouths together in a sloppy kiss as he purrs, "Bet you're wishing you did this earlier, huh? I agree, you definitely should have asked me a long time ago."

"Mmm Anastasia, you know you could have come to me for anything, right?" Crius finally speaks up, her clit slipping from between his lips with a lewd pop. Meanwhile, his fingers still move, slipping in and out of her, stretching her.

She feels like she's losing her mind and clings to both men like an anchor. "You both are--ngahh--equally...!" Then Crius quirks his fingers up and hits something in her that makes her jump and gasp, cutting herself off.

"Equally what?" Crius asks with a knowing smile, dipping his head to suck and lick at her clit again while thrusting his fingers in and out of her, his fingertips primed to hit that spot every time.

Alas, Anastasia is in no state to answer him, her mouth wide open as she pants for air, soft needy moans escaping her with every breath. The wettest, slickest sounds echo in the quiet room from how wet she is as he quickens his pace. Faster and faster and faster, until she's crying out with the sheer amount of pleasure wracking her body.

"Answer him, Anastasia," Tyril's fingers pinch at her nipple and she cries out again, her entire body shaking. "Or you can't cum."

No...no way! She's so close, she's...

"Please...!" she pleads, tears beading in the corners of her eyes from how overwhelmed she is.

But Crius slows his pace and she sobs, writhing in both their arms.

"Anastasia," Crius croons against her clit, giving it one broad lick. "Tell us and I'll let you cum."

Fuck. Fuck! If only she weren't so close, but...!

"I...I...!" She manages to eke out, but then Crius' fingers pull out entirely and she bites on her pride. "I wanted you both equally!"

There are two distinct chuckles.

"Knew it."

"Good."

And then two distinct mouths descending on her. One determined to steal her breath and her mind through her lips, the other intent on squeezing every inch of pleasure from her through her clit.

Either way, or perhaps because of them both together and the fingers that fuck her quickly and roughly, Anastasia comes with a muffled wail against Tyril's lips. Through her orgasm, Crius continues to fuck her, driving his fingertips against that spot that makes her jump and squirm and shake.

Her pleasure takes on a sharp edge, intoxicating in its juxtaposition against the intense pleasure wracking her body, and she can't control the way she jerks in Tyril's arms. But then something starts to boil and burn between her legs, and it feels like...like...she's about to wet herself?!

"Wait--wait no stop-!" Desperately, she tries to push Crius' hand away but it's too late to stop the deluge.

Literally.

With every thrust of Crius' fingers, fluid squirts out and drenches his forearm, his face, his chest, and even the bed under them. Again and again and again as the Grand Commander refuses to stop, even when her fluids begin to drip down his chin and onto the covers.

Anastasia feels like she's gone mad and fallen unconscious all at once, her head is spinning like a top. And when at last her orgasm tapers to an end, she goes limp with a whimper.

Crius' fingers are still inside her, but they remain blissfully still. She pants hard to regain her breath, her throat feeling ever so hoarse. Was she that loud? Oh no.

"That...was fucking hot," Tyril growls against her temple, his sharp violet eyes taking in the mess between her thighs and on Crius' upper body. "Who knew you'd be a squirter?"

A what?

The other man simply laughs and withdraws his fingers from within her with a squelch, slipping them into his mouth to suck them clean. "You should try it too, Tyr."

"Yeah, you know what? I think I will."

Anastasia laughs faintly and rolls away just as Tyril wriggles out from under her. Once on the cool sheets, she goes limp again and sighs, closing her aching legs and curling her knees up to avoid the wet patch on the mattress. "Don't I get a say?" she croaks out jokingly. "Or a break?"

A tongue flicks out to lick up the trail of slick that trickles down her inner thigh and she jumps with a gasp. "Heh, fine, a short break." It's Tyril licking her now, his nose pressing into the plush flesh of her backside.

"That's--nn--" she bites her lip and clutches the covers. "Not giving me a break!"

Wait, if Tyril's licking her, where's Crius?

Before she can lift her head, she hears cloth hitting the floor and then feels the bed dip by her shoulder. The wide expanse of a lightly tanned, muscular thigh comes into view and she follows it up to find an entirely nude Crius smiling down at her with her fluids drying on his upper body.

"Is it so bad to want you as much as we do, Anastasia?" he asks, his voice like silk as he winds his now clean hands through her sweat dampened hair, smoothing it back from her face. "That we can't bear to be apart from you for even a moment?"

Such sweet words. She thought that she is immune to them - and normally she would be - but in this situation, with Tyril's mouth cleaning her up and Crius tangling his fingers in her hair and his warmth so temptingly close, she can't think. "...No...it's not a bad thing...but I..."

"Sensitive, right?" Tyril, right on the money as always. "Don't worry, we'll be gentle. Sort of."

Sort of?

Crius leans in and presses his mouth to her shoulder, kissing and mouthing gently down her arm in a charming way until he reaches her wrist. There, he kisses it and gives her the most sultry look she's ever seen on a man, and smiles. "Do you trust us, Anastasia?"

...

As much as her head spins, she knows there's only one answer.

"Yes."

"Heh, my turn."

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Rosie Rosenthal, full-fledged dork

Somewhere at the 94k mark on the Always Standing By:

He brushes their noses together and lifts a hand to cup Ken's face. He seems to be memorizing Ken's face, and then he grins. "Hey, I have an idea." "What's that?" Ken asks.  "Let's slip into the backseat here and do a little petting while we've got a few minutes." Ken laughs, surprised. "What?" Even in the dim light they're in, Robert's eyes shine with mischief.  "Come on," he says. "We've never gotten to go for a drive and pull off for a little kissing somewhere. But we can do it right now." "What if someone drives by?"  Robert shrugs. "I'll pull rank." Ken laughs again. "You wouldn't." "Oh, I absolutely would. I am Major Robert Rosenthal of the Hundredth. My crew chief and I were just coming back from a very important meeting and needed to have a conversation." "In the backseat?" Ken asks.  "Well, where do you have conversations in your car?"  Ken collapses into giggles. "Okay," he says. "Yes. I'll neck with you for a little bit." He scrambles off of Robert's lap and into the backseat, landing akimbo against the passenger door.  Robert looks at him for a moment, smile wide. He slides up and over, then teeters and all but collapses with his head pushed into the spot where the seat back and the cushion meet. "I'm a great dancer," he says as he wriggles around.  Ken grabs his jacket and yanks, flipping Robert onto his back so he's face up, his legs still hanging over the front seat. Robert sits up straight and gets his feet on the floor. He pulls Ken to him and holds him against his chest, one arm over his waist, the other around Ken's back.  "Oh, yes, just like this," Robert says, and he leans down and kisses Ken until they're both panting.

(If you wanna read the first four chapters of this seemingly never-ending fic, they're on AO3. Updates weekly-ish.)

[jobean12-blog]

How about a little short featuring Bucky being a cute sleepy baby (complete with messy long hair) and being clingy and whiny to you because he doesn't you to leave the bed, please?

Bed is Better

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 583

Summary: Bucky doesn't want to let you out of bed

Author's Note: Thanks for this soft request love! I love when he is a little needy like this! It worked well for day 9 of the HBC's @the-ss-horniest-book-club Kinky Halloween celebration and broom/hair pulling. I love Bucky with long hair and would love to give it a few tugs...hehe also, this gorgeous edit by my love @nix-akimbo was perfect for it. Hope you enjoy! Have a lovely day! HUGS! 🥰Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤❤❤ Divider by the lovely @imerdwarf

Warnings: soft sweetness, fluff, spicy talk, implied smut in a soft way (18 + ONLY PLEASE!!!)

Edit not mine: This beautiful pic belongs to my lovely friend @nix-akimbo

“Don’t leave baby doll,” Bucky whines, his long arm reaching out to wrap around your waist.

He pulls you back into his embrace before you can protest and nuzzles your neck.

“Stay with me,” he whispers.

You hum contentedly, ghosting your fingers along his forearm before laying your hand over his and entwining your fingers. He gives your hand a squeeze and throws his leg over yours, wrapping you up in his warmth.

His long hair falls over your cheek and you can’t help but giggle as the soft strands tickle your skin.

“Bucky,” you chuckle.

He doesn’t answer and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest at your back and hear his gentle snores. Not wanting to wake him you shift carefully and try to turn around but he murmurs something inaudible and tightens his hold on you.

“Bucky,” you whisper shout “Your hair is tickling me!”

Still nothing, so you reach back and push the strands from your face. It doesn’t really work as they slide back onto your cheek. You try to lift his arm but it’s no use so you shimmy downward, hoping you can slip out that way.

Just when it looks like you’ll be free he grabs a handful of your ass and mumbles, “where do you think you’re going doll.”

“Your hair is tickling my cheek,” you playfully chide. “I just want to turn over.”

He smiles and lifts his arm, allowing you the space to turn so you’re now facing him. You slide back up and rest your head on the pillow, tracing your fingers along his jaw and brushing the stray strands from his face.

“Thank you,” you whisper, continuing to comb your fingers through his silky hair.

“Of course, doll face. Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asks sleepily.

“I tried! But you fell back asleep and I couldn’t wake you up,” you tease.

“Oh,” he says, wedging his thigh between your legs. “Are you comfortable now?”

“Yes. Perfect,” you tell him, now twirling his hair around your fingers.

He lets out a relaxed sigh and you smile, lightly pressing your lips to his. His thigh puts more pressure between your legs and the friction makes you gasp. You tug on his hair, tangling your fingers between the strands and rocking your hips.

Bucky lets out a low growl and you pull his hair again, smirking against his lips.

“What are you smiling about?” he simpers, brushing his nose to yours as he holds your stare.

“Nothing,” you purr and pull his hair again.

His eyes darken and he captures your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking gently before releasing it and soothing it with his tongue.

“Do it again,” he says and you rake your hands over his scalp and give his hair a sharp tug.

The muscles in his chest contract and flex when he moves and lays his body over yours. You smooth your hands down his naked skin before sliding them up and over his shoulders and gathering his hair between your fingers.

“Now all I can think about is burying my face between these gorgeous legs,” he croons, trailing kisses over your breasts and down your stomach.

His soft hair slides through your fingers as he settles between your legs but the moment you feel his warm breath caress your skin your legs fall open and you tightly grip his hair, pulling him closer.

“That’s it baby girl. Show me what you want.”

[channiechwn]

stray kids’ reaction to you doing a tiktok dance which requires you to shake your 🍑

◡̈ warnings: protectiveness(?), use of word “ass”, almost falling?, kinda cringey ngl sorry

◡̈ genre: fluffy, established relationship

a/n: also progressively gets shorter because i’m tired and it would get too repetitive... sorry 😢 also kind of edited? not really? it was late okay 😢😢

— bang chan!

he would be super grumpy and grouchy, could possibly give you the silent treatment later

when he saw heard the tiktok timer go off, he looked at you curiously, wondering what tiktok you were gonna film

after the 3s timer went off, he heard the music start to play and boy oh boy was he alarmed

“let’s groove” started playing from your phone and as your gluteus maximus was about to face the camera, chan lunged forward, knocking your phone off the dresser in the process

“hey! i was dancing!” you would yell out in a lighthearted tone

chan would cross his arms across his chest and go “hmph!” before heading towards your shared bed and return to whatever he was previously doing

“what do you want to eat for dinner?” you would ask later on

he wouldn’t reply and there would be a frown etched on his face

“is this about just now?” you pouted, running up to him and snuggling with him on the bed

he would just turn the other way and glare at you playfully

“chann it was just a joke! i’m sorry i won’t do it again! i promise,” you whined while sticking your pinky up to seal the promise

he would turn to face you then hook his picky with yours

his facial expression would change from a moody look to a cheery happy one in a split second

“dominos pizza,” he would finally reply.

— minho!

he would really mean in a teasing way

when he heard the familiar tune playing, just know he would snatch the phone away in a 0.000001s

he would raise the phone up with his hand while you tried to jump and grab it

“if you want to record your dance so bad then do it! if you can even get your phone,” he would snicker in that sarcastic tone

you would roll your eyes and ask for it back

watching you prance and jump around just to retrieve his phone is his humour

he would laugh about it and carry on

he would also unlock your phone and exit the app so that you won’t have a chance to do the dance

100% the kind that would purposely key in the wrong password to your phone multiple times so that your phone would be disabled for like 30mins-1hour

he would be super smug about it when he returns the phone to you

“that will teach you a lesson,” he would smirk.

“next time spend time with me, it’s always that damn phone,” he would wail in a motherly tone, his arms akimbo

when you give in and put your phone on your dresser, he would push you onto the bed and then cuddle with you until your phone can be unlocked

but even when your phone is back to normal, he wouldn’t let you go and keep you in his tight arms despite your constant whines

— changbin!

he would be protective of you as he’s scared of the creeps lurking in the internet

he would tackle you immediately / scoop you in his arms and run off frame

“no no, you aren’t doing this trend! there are so many bad guys out there that are gonna see your bottom!” he would exclaim, alarmed.

you would lightly hit his back and ask him to let go

obviously, he would refuse and laugh at you struggling in his strong arms 🤤🤤

he would then throw you onto the couch with a soft thump and wrap you up in the throw blanket on the couch

you would be his cute burrito 😋😋

but being a cute burrito means that you arms and legs are restricted hence NO movement at all

and then he would just coo at you and hug you real tight

but really you wouldn’t mind if he continued to do that because i KNOW that man smells really good and expensive mmmm 😋

in the end, you two would just end up sleeping, all cuddled up and bundled up in his warm arms, your face against his chest!

— hyunjin!

*dramatic whining*

drama queen hyunjin would let you do the dance (because he enjoys the show) but before you can post the tiktok, he would snatch the phone from your grip and save it into your drafts instead

he is also the type that would request for the video and if you refuse to send it to him, he would just steal your phone and send it to himself when you are showering

when he sees you dancing alone, he would complain and stomp his feet about how you didn’t invite him to do the dancey tiktok ◠̈

like chan, he would give you the silent treatment for feeling left out but this man cannot resist not talking to you

so about 5 minutes after his “silent treatment”, he would start telling you about his childhood days and food

thoughts about the tiktok would be thrown out of his head and things would be back to normal, as if it never happened in the first place

— jisung!

loud ass

this man will yell, shout, scream and probably cause the neighbour to complain

either to hype you up or to distract you from continuing your dance

if he yells to hype you up, he would be at the side doing the dance with you or making that exaggerated lip bite face

if he yells to distract you, he would scream and grab your phone and hold it close with him

he will not give it back

he’s so goddamn loud but you love him for that

there’s nothing much i can say but just know he is the noisiest boy you have ever dated and that he will not hesitate to scream his lungs out if he sees you do something daring

— felix!

cute and supportive

he would probably do the tiktok with you!

also be the one who taught you how to dance this dance

he was the one who suggested this dance to you and introduced this idea

there would be so much laughter when you guys film the tiktok

after you post it to public, he would ask you to send the tiktok to him

later that night, do not be surprised to see him rewatch the video over and over again with a small smile on his face

the song would just play on repeat and you would get sick and tired of it but he would never get sick and tired of the video

he’s also the type of person to visit your profile every day when he’s free and he would rewatch your past tiktoks over and over again

when the tiktok goes viral, he would be super happy and be like “omg let’s celebrate! famous era!”

and later that evening you would see him bake a cake or some cupcakes as a treat for becoming viral???

would 10/10, 100% be your tiktok boyfriend and buddy ◡̈

— seungmin!

protective!!!! does not want the world to see your juicy beautiful ass

this guy would immediately stand in front of the camera with a very stern face, one that would send shivers down your spine — or anyone’s spine tbh

he would also cross his arms and glare at the camera

another scenario would be he uses his big hands to cover the camera or your backside

“why were you dancing this song ◠̈” he would say with a pout

“please post it on “friends only” okay? i’m afraid of the creeps out there,” he would also warn

he would also be very grumpy afterwards and he is super petty

he won’t talk to you for a few minutes but after around like 20 minutes, he would forget about the incident

“wait why was i mad at you just now?” he would question and you would answer with a shrug

anyway, i love seungmin so much his braces are so cute

— jeongin!

fight (literally 👊)

this guy would get into a brawl with you

WILL tackle you onto the bed

possibly bite your ankles 😡😡🤨🤨

anyway he would squirm a lot and there would be a lot of giggles hehe

almost accidentally rolls off the bed with you but his long legs stopped you guys from tumbling down

if you guys actually do tumble onto the ground jeongin would always be behind you so if you fall, you land on jeongin’s chest

he would smell good 👍

the tiktok would be loooong forgotten and everything will be back to normal after all the giggles and laughter

thank you for reading!

[thrillridesz]

heart racing ▫ j.yn

in part of the adrenaline rush! collab hosted by @lucas-wongs​ + @ickjun​

⇢ pairing: jaehyun x reader (f) (ft. other nct members + twice’s jeongyeon)

⇢ genre: fluff, angst, racer!au, best friends to lovers

⇢ warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating, mentions and consumption of alcohol, alcoholism, hitting rock bottom

⇢ synopsis: once a revered member of the racing industry, jaehyun has been living at rock bottom for the past few months following a tragic accident that effectively put him out of racing. it seems as though nothing would get through to him, not even you. will he ever break out of the constant loop of doubt and start seeing things for what they really are?

⇢ word count: 8.04k

⇢ fic playlist: get you to the moon - KinaBeats ft. Snøw | Amnesia - 5SOS | You Belong With Me - Taylor Swift | Confetti Falling - Big Time Rush | Go Season - Devin Bronson (highly recommended for the racing scene) | Love Story - Taylor Swift 

⇢ a/n : unedited! also posted on this account because I’m considering merging my nct account with my tbz writing blog also PLEASE check out the other writers’ works ^^ we’ve all worked hard on our fics

“Jaehyun, you’re ruining yourself.”

The dim room reeked of stale alcohol and something mouldy as the empty beer bottles that littered the floor clanged noisily against the surrounding furniture, leaking golden yellow liquid all over. Old, worn clothes were draped everywhere, stained and darkened with murky stains while the battered television flickered weakly to live, showing nothing but static. The walls were streaked and striated with scratches, as if someone had just been clawing desperately at them and on the floor amidst the empty glass bottles, were pieces of scrap poster paper. Sunlight peeks in through the drawn blinds, giving a teasing glimpse to the bustling outside world from the sad, decrepit apartment Jaehyun lived in.

Sprawled on the couch with nothing on except a wrinkled pair of jeans, Jaehyun’s eyes were devoid of emotion - blank and dazelike. In his hand, his fingers held on limply to the neck of yet another bottle of beer, possibly his nth for the day. His usually shiny hazel brown hair was greasy with filth and his bare chest was sticky with sweat from being cooped up all day in this tiny, stuffy apartment of his. His jawline was starting to grow a hint of stubble given how much he’d completely let himself go and dark circles were appearing underneath those intense eyes of his.

Slowly, Jaehyun lifted his gaze from the floor to look at you, the first flicker of emotions that he’d ever displayed in the whole day. You stood before him, arms akimbo, your gaze sharp and piercing. He smiled, a smile that held no mirth or happiness.

“Oh, you’re still here.”

You shook your head, ripping the bottle of beer from his grasp. As you approached, the bottles, clothes and torn pieces of paper on the ground almost made you trip and you tutted under your breath.

“Of course I am. I’m your best friend who is somehow still here with you. Best friends help each other.”

He chuckled nonchalantly, waving his hand at the door. “Well, feel free to leave then. I don’t need your help.” His eyes held a hint of anger as he did, something that did not escape your notice.

“Jaehyun,” you said softly, placing the bottle on a nearby table as you dread what was to come next. “Please, not this again.”

Your words only served to fuel the fiery spark of anger in his eyes as he said in a barely controlled tone, the irritation radiating from him in ripples that threatened to evolve into waves, “Why not? I’m a fucking wreck and a loser anyways. Leave like everyone else did. Leave like…” His voice wobbled, “leave like Jeongyeon did.”

Your heart fell and it took almost a godlike willpower not to let your emotions show. Was he still thinking about her?

“Jaehyun-”

“What? Are you gonna say I’m not a loser like you always do? Cut the fucking lies. Everyone out there is saying the same thing, what makes you think you can convince me that you’re not thinking it either? Hm?” He spat, the drowsiness in his demeanour dissipating fast as red hot anger replaced it. There was so much internal frustration within Jaehyun that just seeing him like this was enough to break your heart. It was one thing to see him in this terrible state but it was quite another to see him directing his anger towards you.

You drew in a deep breath, trying to calm your pounding heart and to stop the tears that pricked at the corner of your eyes. Having been there with him every step of the year ever since the both of you were children playing and horsing around the neighbourhood, you found yourself desperately missing those much simpler times and wondering how things became so wrong.

For as long as you could remember, Jaehyun had always been interested and had a natural flair for racing. There always existed a competitive streak in him that thrived off a challenge. It didn’t matter what it was, as long as it was a game that could have a clear winner or incited competitiveness, he was all up for it. As kids, the two of you used to compete over everything, be it for the last popsicle in the convenience store down the street or past the gates of your school. It was as if racing was something he needed in order to live. It wasn’t until sophomore year of high school did Jaehyun decide to take his love for racing to a professional level. He began to dive deep into the motorsport industry, starting out as a mere rookie in auto racing. He never did apply to college, preferring instead to invest all his time into his newfound life career.

His rise to fame was quick, quicker than most. Within his first year, he had won a number of races, beating even some of the well known names in the sport. Every other month, he was winning trophies and exorbitant cash prizes which in return earned him the recognition of famous sponsors and racers. Bumper stickers from the various sponsors decorated the back of his ride and it was no time at all before Jaehyun began to don some of the most expensive sports gear on the tracks. With his smouldering good looks, he also appeared on the front pages of magazines and newspapers, all while attracting a loyal fanbase made up of both racing enthusiasts and adoring admirers.

To everyone else, he was the suave, handsome and effortlessly cool young racer who was practically born to race and to do it well but to you, he was your childhood friend… and your first love. In front of the flashing lights and cameras, Jaehyun knew his way around the crowd. He knew exactly when to flash one of his dazzling, dimpled smiles and how to work the crowd - it was just one of his innate charms. Yet, you knew that underneath that, that flashy, extravagant Jaehyun, was the Jaehyun you grew up with and had gradually fallen in love with.

As children, he was there for you whenever you needed him, always ready to lend a helping hand when he noticed that you were stuck in an unfavourable situation. You distinctly remember what had happened in second grade. It was a bright and warm summer’s day, the lovely scent of sweet peas floating in the air as the sun bore down on the earth. Pigeons flitted over the sidewalks, pecking at the cemented floor and the leaves of the oak trees that lined the streets rustled gently in the wind.

You fell with a loud and heavy thud on your bottom, feeling the leaves crunch noisily under your weight. Fear and trepidation coursed through your veins as you stared with eyes wide at your tormentors.

“Look at her, she looks pathetic. Do it, Johnny! Do it!”

A tall, hunkering boy flanked by his cronies stood over you, his dark, massive shadow engulfing you as you frantically scrambled backwards. Tears were beginning to stream down your face and a sharp pain shot up your spine with each move, owing to the impact of the fall. There were scratches on your hands as you dragged your palms over the rough gravel in an attempt to move away.

There was a malicious glint in Johnny’s eyes and his lips were curved into a devious smirk as he stared down at you, domineering and intimidating. The veins in his arms and hands were bulging angrily and as he clenched his fists, you felt your stomach sink. Your legs began to feel like jelly and your vision was beginning to blur from all the salty tears. You were struck with fear and the sense of helplessness you felt made you feel both ashamed and furious at yourself yet there was nothing you could do.

You held your hand up to shield yourself from the impending attack as the bully lifted up his fist.

“Hey! How about you pick on someone your own size?!”

The group of you turned to see Jaehyun, eyes blazing with anger as his chest heaved. His wind-swept hair hung over his eyes, a surefire sign that he’d run over and his cheeks were red from exertion. Even from afar, he was clearly no match to Johnny’s larger build, much less the whole lot of them.

“J-Jaehyun?” You spluttered, shocked.

“Who is this clown- Ow!” Johnny stumbled backwards as a rock pebble hit him on the head, promptly ricocheting off his forehead and bouncing onto the ground. His jaw was clenched in pain and when he removed his palm, a reddish bruise had blossomed and there was even a faint trace of blood. There was a split second of stunned silence before Johnny turned almost magenta with rage.

“GET HIM!” He roared and his cronies shook out of their daze, immediately going after Jaehyun who’d already ran a good distance before the reality of what had just happened set in. His mocking laugh rang through the afternoon amidst a cackle of profanities and threats yelled at him.

It was a laugh that remained in your memories all these years. It was a laugh that strengthened you, a laugh that spoke so much of willful courage and youthful rebellion which was everything you’d eventually come to associate with Jaehyun. That laugh was bright and so… him.

Yet now, you could see none of that playful mischief and vibrancy in those eyes. All that is left is emptiness.

“You’re not a loser, Jaehyun,” you began softly, “you never were in my eyes. You were a fighter.”

Those beautiful eyes you adored so much narrowed at you, his face twisted into a scowl.

“A fighter? Guess what, y/n?” He sneered, his voice dripping with venom. “I fought. I fought endlessly but did that work out for me? I threw in everything I could, every little thing. I worked hard and put in a hundred and one percent of my effort.”

You stared at him, your heart aching for him as a single tear began to roll down his cheek, tears of anger, indignation and pain.

“But did that work out? No, it didn’t. If anything, it left me a wreck. People out there call me a loser, a has-been and even my girlfriend has left me. It doesn’t matter how much effort I put in, how much I fought because at the end of the day, everyone is only here because of what they think I am. They saw me as a champion, an up and coming and the moment I wasn’t anymore, they all dropped me in a heartbeat. What are you waiting for, y/n? Why the hell are you even still here?”

His words echoed through the empty apartment and out loud, it sounded bleak, harsh and biting. His anguished voice tore at your heart and as each word left those lips, it felt like your heart was slowly breaking apart. Neither of you said anything for a moment, locked in a silent, unspoken fight as he held your gaze steadily. His eyes were cold and there was the look of a broken man in them.

“I am here because I love you, Jaehyun,” you said finally, your voice quivering. “I don’t care who or what you are and it pains me to see you tear yourself down like this because I know you are not the loser you believe you are. I don’t know how much of this I can take, seeing you ruin yourself.”

You can see the slight softening in his eyes and you gritted your teeth.

“I’m going to go. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I can’t see you ruin yourself and be able to do nothing about it. I’m not strong enough for that.”

With that, you left the apartment before he could see the tears in your eyes.

The miserable, empty can of beer clattered loudly against the hardwood floor, the sound echoing through the dank apartment.

Jaehyun barely lifted an eyebrow, his fingers growing slack without him even knowing. He stared up at the dark ceiling, a hooded look in those once bright eyes. The stench that hung around him was growing more intense by the day and it was reaching a point whereby he could almost smell himself but there was nothing in him that seemed to care.

Sounds of active civilisation outside drifted in through the windows and occasionally, he’d hear the honking of angry drivers on the roads or the laughter of children playing at the playground at the courtyard below. Normally, he loved waking up to these sounds or at least when he wasn’t off to the race tracks, when he was relaxing with a book in his hands. Now however, he found them irksome, irritating and he wanted nothing more but to block them out. He wanted absolutely zero reminder of the world outside.

Grunting, Jaehyun dragged himself off the couch. As he trudged heavily back to his room where his comfortable bed beckoned to him, he turned to stare at the large, imposing front door where moments ago, you’d slammed shut as you left him to his own devices.

Guilt tugged at his heart and for a split second, Jaehyun contemplated running after you. When you left, there was an indescribable sense of hollowness that engulfed him in a way that he couldn’t quite understand or explain. The apartment was filthy, dark and small but somehow with you around just a few minutes ago, it felt just a little bigger, a little warmer. As much as he hated to admit it, his heart was calling to him to reach out to you, run after you. The crumpled look on your face haunted him but he shook the thought from his mind.

It would be better if you left him. If you knew what was good for you, you would.

The anger in him was beginning to resurface at the thought of everything that had happened over the past few months. His career plummeting on a downward spiral right after his recovery, the exact opposite of what was predicted by his agent.

He was born to race, his family and his friends had always told him so. He knew it himself, he could feel it in his blood, his bones, his spirit. Ever since he was little, Jaehyun had known that his career would have something to do one way or another with racing. As a child, he loved running, competing but most of all, he loved riding in his father’s pickup truck on the way to school. He loved the way the vehicle would zoom past the streets, overtaking other vehicles and he loved the feeling of the wind against his face. He loved the speed and everything about cars or racing. It felt natural for him to pursue a career in competitive racing and a natural he was.

After getting signed with a racing company, Jaehyun quickly rose to fame with his numerous championships, bagging trophies, medals and cash prizes in almost every event he participated in. Sports magazines and reporters would clamour over each other to score an interview with him. People wanted pictures with him, wanted him to sign an autograph for them.

He was the golden boy in the racing world, an untouchable.

In the racing world, everything goes a mile a minute and nothing waits for anyone. After the morbid crash at the June Tokyo Prix, Jaehyun had sustained several fractures to his ribs and a severe concussion that left him in the hospital’s intensive care unit bedridden for several months. The pain was unlike any other and every single move hurt immensely but what suffered more damage than he did was his career and his relationships.

Within months, the racing career he had so painstakingly built up for himself collapsed before him. Due to long inactivity, brands and sponsors began to drop him, slowly at first then steadily one by one. He was also constantly under the media’s scrutiny for a period of time, their cameras and microphones thrusted in his face while he lay helpless on the hospital bed. The bright flashes blinded him and the loud noises made his head pound and even now, he still remembered how that experience was like, shuddering every time it crossed his mind. It had taken Jaehyun countless hours of physical therapy before he could even think of racing competitively again.

Yet when he did, he quickly realised he never could revert back to his old self, the one who got off on adrenaline kicks while zooming along the tracks at breakneck speed, the one who only knew what it was like to win. He was slower, less coordinated. His body could no longer take the pressure racing would subject it too, or at least not quickly enough for him to make a full, stunning comeback.

The tabloids and news had run wild with his fall from grace, writing up horrible, demeaning articles about him. His rivals had mocked him to his face and he could even sense the visible disappointment from his fans emanating from the stands whenever he’d lost yet another race. The thing that really broke the camel’s back however, was when his girlfriend Jeongyeon initiated a breakup.

Jaehyun had hoped that things would turn for the better, never one to give up. He’d trained tirelessly everyday, pushing his brittle body to the limit. He never let up on himself, gritting his teeth through all the physical and mental pressure he had imposed on himself. When the final text was sent, Jaehyun could remember distinctly how hopeless and distraught he’d felt. It felt like his world, the empire he had so painfully and relentlessly crafted for himself from scratch was breaking bit by bit. To add salt to the wound, the next time he’d seen her on television, her body was plastered against his biggest rival, Yuta. Her arms were wrapped around his and her lips pressing against his cheeks with no shame whatsoever for the interviewer interviewing him, no sign of the girl who’d once told him that she loved him with all her heart.

What was once determination and naive hopefulness soon devolved into anger and resentment. Jaehyun began to let himself go and the change was drastic. Where there once existed a time whereby he’d rise from his slumber early to visit the gym, he now regularly slept well into the late afternoon. His diet began to consist largely of takeout, junk food and alcohol and his apartment got more and more cluttered by the day. He’d stopped contacting his friends and family, ignoring their calls and texts, preferring to fester in his own solitude. It wasn’t long before an odour had started to emit from his place, a nauseating mixture of stale pizza, beer and pure filth from the lack of showers.

His appearance was also no longer polished, but rather haggard as if he’d aged five years in a matter of months. He was beginning to lose his fit stature, the healthy glow he’d once been prized on by magazines and gossip columns dimming. It got to a point whereby Jaehyun had begun to avoid looking at his hideous reflection in the mirror, his self-hatred growing with each day.

A poster of him in his racing gear and his race car was tattered and wrinkled on the floor, stained with ketchup and soda. Staring at it blankly with eyes empty of any emotions whatsoever, Jaehyun swiped it up and in a swift moment, he tore it up with a large rip before trashing it somewhere on the floor.

Flopping onto his comforter, he almost moaned in pleasure as he sunk into the soft sheets. Reaching for the air conditioning control, a loud smack on the ground roused him from his hedonistic haze. His hair was sticking up in all directions as he peered over the edge of his bed to see a picture frame that had fallen from his night stand.

Holding it in his hands, he looked at it with a nonchalant air.

It was a picture of the both of you a few years ago, back when he was just kick starting his racing career. He hadn’t yet made a name for himself then as the two of you leaned in for the picture.

You had on a bright, illuminating beam on your face, your eyes alive and glittering with happiness. Your hair was down, wisps of it framing your face as the sun brought out the colour and shine of it. Next to him, you’d completely dwarfed in comparison. He had his arm around you, bringing you to his side and from the picture, Jaehyun could feel a smile begin to crack on his face at the comical height difference.

He’d looked completely at ease here, carefree with the recklessness and restlessness of the soul beneath shining through his dark eyes. His hair was wavy, styled down in that ridiculous fashion he wanted so badly to leave back in high school. He had worn a dimpled smile on his face, the look of someone who knew he was destined for greatness and believed in it.

Jaehyun was about to put the picture down when something caught his eye. He leaned in closer.

There was something about you. At first glance, it would have been clear that you were smiling for the camera but upon closer look, it looked as if you might be smiling at him instead. Your smile was softer, eyes gentler from the first time he’d seen the picture. It was the sort of smile that struck him in his heart, the kind of smile that would make its recipient feel loved, appreciated.

“I want to be a racer when I grow up.”

You turned to Jaehyun, eyes wide as saucers as you popped the ice popsicle out of your mouth.

“Why?”

He shrugged, still struggling with the wrapper of the popsicle. The two of you sat on the wooden bench, side by side as the other kids ran around the park, playing rounds of tag while their parents or babysitters sat watching over them. The sun was glaring down on the earth and though it was a great day to go out to play and sweat it out, it was also a perfect day to find an excuse to buy popsicles with what little pocket money your parents had given to you two. It wasn’t an opportunity to be missed.

“I really like racing. I don’t know if there’s anything else I’d want to be,” he said simply, grinning as he finally succeeded in breaking open the plastic.

You tried to hide the blush that was beginning to creep up to your cheeks, looking away from him.

“My mom says being a doctor is good.”

As soon as you said it, you immediately regretted your words. Jaehyun scrunched up his nose in disgust.

“No way! It’s so boring. Do you want to be a doctor?”

Quickly, you shook your head fervently. “No!”

“Then what do you want to be?” He asks curiously, sucking on his popsicle.

You are quiet for a while as you ponder over his question. What exactly do you want to be when you grow up?

“...A writer.” You said finally and he swiveled around to look at you, clearly not expecting your answer.

“A writer? Hm, why?”

“I just really like reading. I want to write interesting stories that people will like,” you take a tentative lick of your popsicle, the icy, sweet taste of apple flavouring coating your tongue, “Like fairytales!”

Jaehyun broods over your answer, seemingly deep in thought. For a moment, neither of you say another word as you sit together under the warm, sunny day, enjoying your popsicles.

“I want people to like me too.” He says suddenly, his eyes shining. “People will like my racing! I’m going to be a racer and people will like me to win!”

He hops to his feet, his popsicle raised as he made his declaration. There is a triumphant, toothy smile on his face and he says it with so much hope and gusto that you can’t help but feel drawn to his driven spirit. For a boy of five foot, there was a lot of motivation and energy in him and there was just something about him that got you transfixed.

Under the sunlight, his smile seemed almost blindingly bright with the shadows highlighting the charming dimples on those round cheeks. The butterflies in your stomach were going crazy and your heart began to pound. Your words seemed stuck in your throat and you choked out, “I t-think you’ll make a good racer, J-Jaehyun.”

You thought your heart might burst as his smile grew wider, his dimples making deeper indentations. It felt like the sun might just be a little too hot since your face felt like it was positively flaming.

“Thank you, y/n.”

Suddenly, something caught your eye and shakily, you pointed at him.

His smile dropped as his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“What?”

“Y-your popsicle is m-m-melting… down your a-arm.”

The elevator button made an uncharacteristic squeaking sound as Jaehyun jabbed repeatedly at it, his jaw clenched in impatience.

“Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up,” he muttered frantically under his breath, pacing the lift lobby. The red letters above the elevator were moving at a snail’s pace and it seemed as if it’s stopped to pick up some passengers on the 5th floor. How long does it take for people to move into an elevator?

Jaehyun groaned in annoyance as he watched the number on the display crawl up slowly.

This wouldn’t do. By the time it’s here, it would be too late.

Immediately, he sprinted for the stairs instead, his heart hammering against his chest.

There was great fanfare as the rowdy crowd erupted into raucous cheers, the large, industrial sized party poppers going off with a bang, covering everyone in glitter streamers and confetti. Cameras were flashing and clicking away at every corner while throngs of sports reporters flooded the holding area, all trying to reach the champions for their coveted exclusive interviews. Agents and pit crews were all celebrating with the sound of champagne bottles popping and yells and cheers of congratulations ringing through the air.

Jaehyun stood at the top of the podium, shooting the cameras his trademark stunning grin as he posed with his golden trophy that looked to be about the size of his torso. The racing suit he was wearing was uncomfortably hot and he wanted nothing more than to strip from it but the adrenaline and euphoria he was experiencing far surpassed any feelings of discomfort.

This was it, the taste of success. It was everything he lived for, raced for. This was why he always trained so hard, from dawn to dusk. This was why he put his own body through all those hours of endurance training, gym and dieting. It was all for this single moment of true bliss enjoyed and savoured after the extreme thrill of racing. Here on the podium, towering above everyone else… He was truly where he needed to be, where he was born to be.

As he stepped off and the bodyguards swarmed in to escort him to his own holding room, Jaehyun couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. Yet another trophy for display on his shelf back in his apartment. He didn’t think he’d ever get sick of it, the feeling of winning but then again who would?

Reporters were attempting to accost him at all sides, all screaming out the same old questions he had grown tired of early on.

“How do you feel after winning the prix for the third year running?”

“You hit a record timing today! How did you train for the race?”

“What do you have to say to your rival, Nakamoto who came in second this year? By a mere few seconds at that!”

Jaehyun nodded and waved at a few of them, still wearing a smile on his face but there was no answer evoked from him. He’d kept up a calm and cool demeanour throughout but once he was in his holding room alone, the moment the door closed shut behind him, he let out a loud, jubilant howl.

“Fuck yes!” He roared out in happiness before collapsing onto the couch, laughing to himself as he held his trophy above him. He badly needed a shower but he couldn’t care less, not with the trophy in his hands. Under the light, the gold shone and even as a seasoned racer, the excitement and happiness from winning never grew old. In the empty room, the victory felt even more profound, the reality of claiming the championships for yet another year sinking in.

He was in the middle of celebrating and basking in his own victory, he received a text.

Jy: how’s my man doing? congratulations on the win honey ❤️

Jae: thanks babe, it feels fucking amazing. you have no idea… also i missed you so much

Jy: we should celebrate. together, alone. tonight at my place? ;) we haven’t done it in awhile, i miss your body, your kisses

Jaehyun stared at the text. He should be happy, excited to see Jeongyeon again after so long. He had been so preoccupied with training for the big race that he’d barely had any time for her. He had missed her yet now that they were finally exchanging texts again after so long apart, he didn’t seem to feel the same anticipation.

There was something about that text she sent that seemed weirdly… detached. He had imagined their first interaction in over a month to be one that warmed him up in the inside, brought him to a whole new level of euphoria even after winning but if anything, this reality paled in comparison to the scenario he had looked forward to in his mind.

Jae: yeah sure

After pressing send, he tossed his phone onto the coffee table and rested his head against the velvety cushion of the couch. Somehow, that very short exchange with Jeongyeon had dimmed his excitement and readiness to celebrate.

His phone suddenly rang, disrupting him from the reverie he’d found himself in.

“Must be Jeongyeon,” he thought to himself and for some reasons as he swiped to answer the call, he found himself reluctant to talk.

“Hello?”

“Jung Jaehyun! I was watching your race on television, congratulations for coming in first yet again! You were terrific out there.”

Y/n.

Jaehyun smiled, feeling his heart swell at your words.

“Thanks, y/n. I really appreciate it.”

“How about we meet for dinner tonight? I know of this amazing Italian place that serves the best lasagna, your favourite! My treat too to celebrate your win, how’s that?”

At the mention of lasagna, Jaehyun could feel his stomach rumbling and his mouth watering. The tangy tomato sauce, copious amounts of cheese and spiced minced beef with soft pasta… He would absolutely be down for some well-deserved lasagna after weeks of feasting on plain, watery salads. Dinner sounded like a great idea.

“Sure, I- Wait, I can’t,” he groaned, suddenly remembering his plans with Jeongyeon. Plans he didn’t even particularly look forward to.

“Why not?” You asked.

“I um…”

Fuck, why is it so hard to say it?

“I have plans with Jeongyeon tonight,” he said, ignoring the strange pang of guilt and indignation that hit him square in the chest.

“Oh! Oh, uh… That’s completely fine. Don’t worry about it, we can always have dinner some other day.”

“Really? That would be great! How does next week sound?”

“Sounds good to me!” Even on call, he could imagine you bobbing your head enthusiastically like you usually did and that brought a chuckle out of him.

“Alright, I’ll see you then y/n.”

“See you! Please rest well, you deserve it.”

“Thank you,” he replied before hanging up.

What is this warm feeling in him?

Jaehyun raced out of the apartment complex, his eyes searching his surroundings.

The sun was glaring and he couldn’t see straight without squinting his eyes. He must have been a weird sight to behold - scruffy, pale from the lack of the outdoors and reeking of the garbage piled up in his apartment. An elderly woman walking past him tutted disapprovingly at his disheveled appearance, holding her nose as she did but Jaehyun didn’t seem to notice her. His mind was on something else, something more important.

A boy from across the street was staring at him with his mouth agape, looking like a deer caught in headlights as he shakily fumbled in his pockets for his phone. Jaehyun let his sights linger on him, wondering if he should have at least thrown on a coat but as he turned, he caught sight of a figure hanging by the bus stop, looking miserable.

He swallowed thickly, feeling the slight clench of his heart and without hesitating a single second longer, he made his way over.

The heart monitor’s methodical beating was driving him near insanity. If not that, then certainly the suffocating atmosphere of the hospital and the bandages wrapped tightly around almost every single inch of his body would. Not to mention the occasional undercover paparazzi who would try to inch their way into his ward.

Jaehyun stared up at the white ceilings, still as a plank. Every part of his body hurt to move, he couldn’t even turn his head without feeling a painful pounding in it. Sometimes, he would get dizzy spells so intense he actually felt nauseous. His appetite for food or anything in general had since plummeted. Everything, but racing.

He yearned to go out there onto the tracks, to resume his training. The Roman Prix is coming up in a month’s time and he was so far from ready. He needed to get out of this place as soon as possible, even if it meant jeopardising his own safety. His career mattered more than anything.

Jeongyeon hadn’t called either since the day he got admitted. Jaehyun had soon grown tired of checking his messages or asking his publicist for news from her, the feeling of disappointment felt deep within him. He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling a wave of fatigue wash over him.

There was a gentle knock on the door and as the door creaked slightly open, you poked your head in. Upon seeing him, you smiled softly and made your way over to him. Jaehyun watched you approach, his eyes following you.

You had brought along a basket with you, seemingly full of items. As much as he wanted to know what you’d brought, he tried not to look overeager. “I made you something special today,” you said, settling down and practically vibrating with excitement.

“What?”

“Tomato minestrone soup!” You exclaimed, uncovering the lid as the tantalising aroma of tomatoes and a medley of vegetables drifted in the air. Jaehyun almost had to restrain himself from moving, lest he shift a bone out of place somewhere.

Somehow seeing you had sparked a certain kind of joy in him. Maybe it was a sign nobody had really forgotten about him yet. He had watched his number of visitors trickle down day by day and now that it was close to a month since he’d been hospitalised, after the tragic accident, he barely got any. Perhaps three or four a week if he was lucky.

You, however, you were different. You visited him almost every other day, no matter how busy you were. You visited his bedside even if you were worn out from a long day of work, even when you had things to attend to, even when no one else bothered to. You would bring along snacks whenever you did or homemade get-well food like fish porridge or chicken noodle soup you’d whipped up yourself, though they might be far from the usual gourmet fare he was used to back when he was still active when he would go for exquisite dinner parties. Usually, you stayed for a substantial amount of time and sometimes, you even stayed the night.

Jaehyun didn’t understand why you would do all of this for a friend, a friend who never seemed to have time to spare for you at that. More than anything, the feeling of guilt in him only grew stronger with each visit yet he was grateful, extremely grateful. Your presence was like a warm ray of sunshine in this dreary hospital ward. Whenever you visited, he couldn’t help but smile even though he could not find it in himself to smile. But when it came to you, it felt natural.

“Y/n!”

At the sound of Jaehyun’s voice, you turned and even from afar, he could see your reddened eyes - a surefire sign you’d been crying. Guilt and anger washed over him in waves and he tried not to think how many times he had been the cause of your tears. If only he could turn back time, he would have shook himself for ever dismissing you so lightly like he did, before he saw the situation for what it was.

He was blinded. Blinded by his obsession for winning, fame, glory and pleasing the wrong people. In a way, it felt like a fog had been lifted before him and now that he could see, think, feel clearly… He wasn’t going to let the right person out of his grasp. The person who loved him unconditionally, not just for his fame and achievements. The person who stuck with him through thick and thin but he was just too daft to notice it. The person who always felt like home whether he knew it or not.

You.

“Jaehyun? W-What are you…” You spluttered, desperately trying to wipe your tears from your face as you stared up at him.

It took a couple of seconds for him to regain his breath, his face turning red from embarrassment and exertion. He should really start leaving those beers and junk food alone.

“I…” He panted, both out of fatigue and relief, “We need to talk.”

“Jung is getting closer, any minute now Hendery!”

“I don’t believe this! Are we looking at a potential comeback for this prix? Push, push, push!”

“It seems like we might be! Here he comes! He is absolutely mad!”

The nascars zipped along the race tracks, smoke and some bits of burnt rubber and chipped metal trailing along its wake. They were a blur of colours to the spectators, who were practically glued to their seats as they watched the race reach its climax. A massive telescreen was displaying close ups and the ranking board with huge overhead lights that illuminated the stadium. The crowd was growing wilder by the second as the racecars zoomed past them, their attention fixed on one racer in particular.

The sleek nascar was streaked in royal blue and crimson red over a metallic black base, looking almost purple and black with how fast it was flying across the tracks. The wheels were spinning so fast that the friction between the tough rubber tire and the rough granite almost lit up the tracks. It was charging forward with a steely determination and ruthlessness, closing in rapidly on a green and white nascar ahead of it.

The adrenaline coursing Jaehyun’s veins was unlike any other. The thrill he got from racing could practically send him into an all time high and a cunning grin tugged at his lips as he stepped his foot down hard on the pedal, his hands gripping tightly onto his steering wheel. Rounding around a bend, he clenched his jaw as he pushed his body weight to the left, the muscles in his abdominals and biceps flexing and straining against his racing suit as the car drifted across the tracks in a perfect arc.

“Did you see that perfectly executed drift?! Insanity!”

“Jung is absolutely on fire!”

The thunderous cheers of the crowd and the loud hum of the race cars racing across the tracks faded into the background as he kept his eyes trained steadily forward. Any time now…

“Watch out, Nakamoto,” he whispered under his breath.

Steering his wheel sharply and accelerating much to the crowd’s excitement and trepidation, his race car was now driving side by side along Yuta’s. For a split second, the two turned to look at each other through the window and even though there was no way of seeing the other’s face through that helmet, something in Jaehyun told him that his rival was angered, shocked and… Fearful.

Jaehyun grinned beneath his helmet and without a second thought, he zipped forward, leaving Yuta behind in the smoke.

“He’s going for it, he’s going for it… Wait for it… And he crosses the line! The legend has reclaimed his spot on the top!”

“And that is how you execute one of the greatest comebacks of all time, ladies and gentlemen. Jung has done what we believed to be impossible and dominated the race! I wonder how Nakamoto feels about that?”

The other commentator chuckles into his microphone.

“Well Haechan, if I were him, I’d be pissed off for sure! But I’d also be worried… So very worried.”

The crowd was absolutely wild when he’d disembarked from the car and as he removed his helmet, he was greeted with camera flashes all around him. He shook his head, running a gloved hand over his hair and he took a deep breath. The air smelled of burnt rubber, smoke and… Success.

He had done it. He had made his comeback.

His pit crew made a beeline for him, slapping him on the back, their faces jubilant and lit with pure joy. His new manager, one that he trusted and helped him inch his way back to the top step by step, shot him a thumbs up which he nodded in acknowledgement as the crowd of sports journalists, reporters and photographers began to swarm in on him.

Yet, he paid them no attention. If this was three years ago, he would have basked in the glory, the attention but now he had greater concerns on his mind. His heart was pounding now for a different reason altogether and he could feel his hands growing clammy.

Jaehyun craned his neck and searched the rowdy media crowd. Where were you?

“Jaehyun!”

At your voice, he turned and immediately almost stumbled backwards as you crashed into him for a hug. The feelings of you against him sparked a joy in his heart, a joy almost greater than winning. He enveloped you in a hug, holding your waist as he nuzzled his face into your hair. Your scent of honey and jasmine was intoxicating, alluring and a welcomed change from the smell of smoke and rubble.

The two of you had been dating for about two years now, each day together better than the previous. After he’d caught up with you that day, it was as if you were seeing a different Jaehyun from the one you’d seen in his apartment. That Jaehyun who had caught up with you at the bus stop was the old Jaehyun you’d missed and it was as if a switch somewhere had been flipped. To this day, he had never admitted what changed while you were gone for those few minutes. He had subsequently apologised for everything he’d done, even things you didn’t see a problem with. It was shocking to say the least to see the unapologetic Jaehyun apologise for anything at all, but not more shocking than what entailed a few days later.

It started with a vase of luscious red roses being sent to your workplace followed by an invitation for dinner. Before you knew it, the boy you’d loved almost all your life was courting you with a passion. It felt like a complete dream, so much so you had been afraid to wake up suddenly and realise it was all just your imagination. He’d been more of a romantic than he’d let on and many times, you had found yourself completely smitten by his stunts that stretched from learning how to make homemade chocolates for you on Valentine’s Day knowing that you liked them, even though he was well known as a terrible cook to sending flowers up to your doorstep every other week.

Within a couple of months, the two of you were dating and deeply, wildly in love.

Amidst date nights filled with laughter and kisses, he had also been steadily climbing his way back up the ranks of the racing world. After ditching his unhealthy lifestyle he had been living for the past year, the change was apparent. He’d started hitting the gym, eating healthier and before long, he was in prime condition to start racing again. Training was long and tough but he never did give up. He was more determined and driven than you’d seen him and though the old Jaehyun would have been gutted at a loss, this new, better version of him never fussed over a loss of any kind, instead learning from his mistakes.

All of his efforts had led to this ultimate moment, the taste of victory on his lips.

You noticed he had been shifting uncomfortably and you looked up, puzzled and concerned.

“Jaehyun? You okay?”

He looked at you, his ears red, a sign that he was anxious, nervous.

“Jaehyun? What-”

Your words got stuck in your throat as he knelt down on one knee, the lights overhead bringing out the sparkle in his eyes and the shine in his hair. Those dark orbs were so full of hope, anxiety and love all intermingled in one and you found it difficult to believe that those eyes were looking at you directly, the emotions in them all for you.

Jaehyun withdrew a tiny, velvet box from his pocket and popped it open. In the box, was a tiny diamond ring, glittering and absolutely regal. The diamond itself was beautifully cut and interwoven into the metal band with microfibres of white gold and it simply shone as the camera flashes went off. The crowd was going bonkers, screaming and cheering with wolf whistles.

“Y/n,” he spoke softly, his voice gentle. “You have always been there for me, always been my better half. We have been friends for over a decade and lovers for merely two but it seemed as if we always were meant for each other. It took me so long to realise that and there is not a day I don’t regret not realising it sooner. You are my everything - my past, present and future. Falling in love with you was gradual, unconscious. I guess my heart knew you the one before I even did. It started with me being in a dark, dark place where I drowned in my own self-hatred and insecurities. I was beaten, defeated and I just gave up. Where everyone did the same, you never did. You were like a beam of shining light, shining upon me and guiding me even if I didn’t notice it at the time. But when I did, you glowed even more brightly than I’d envisioned. I’d been oblivious to your beauty both inside and outside for far too long and god knows how much I fucking regret it. I’m different now though, because of you. I am the best version of myself right now because I have you in my life. You taught me how to love, allow myself to be loved. There’s no universe whereby I’d want to be without you. I can’t see myself without you in my life. I need you, I love you.”

Tears were beginning to stream down your face and the stadium had grown quieter, all tuning into what was happening.

Jaehyun looked up at you, hopeful and so full of love that you thought your heart might burst.

“So I guess what I’m saying is, will you marry me, y/n?” He asked breathlessly.

[riridontneedya]

IMPERIUM✨

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Any house Reader, Harry Potter x

Wordcount: 4,210

Warnings: SMUT, ANGST dom ,sub, daddy ,oral, teasing ,praise, spitting , chocking etc run of the mill smut.

A/N : Well the time has come I've finally given in.. I say finally didn't take much conviction lol. Anyway in this universe Dumbledore is still very much alive and no-one tried to kill one another so all is well. As always enjoy and let me know what you think xx

Summary: Draco and y/n battle it out for the new position as headmaster but what happens when they are made to work alongside one another

“Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention please” spoke Dumbledore. He arose from his chair gently tapping his knife against his chalice in order to garner the crowds attention . Shortly everyones eyes were fixated on him. He cleared his throat and began. “I would like to thank each and everyone one of you for coming out tonight … as we all know its been a tough decision for me to step down, however! .I have no fear as I know the school will be in the safest of hands. I hand picked these two myself and in-fact trust them with my life. I know they have been working tirelessly day in and out to ensure not only my trust .. but all members of committee and most importantly our students. So with that being said when it is revealed in tomorrows assembly who the new headmaster and deputy are I want you both to know ,no matter the outcome I am so proud of you both, so let us raise a toast to our candidates . Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N and Draco Lucius Malfoy”. With that Dumbledore rose his chalice high in the air smiling warmly at the pair. Everybody followed suit and raised their glasses high in celebration.

Draco and Y/N graciously thanked everyone as they showered them with words of praise and encouragement . Just then Y/n went to speak however her words were abruptly cut short by Astoria. As if an eager child unable to contain her excitement she blurted out. “ Draco and I are so grateful for all the support, so as a thank you after this we will be having refreshments and canapés at the Malfoy manor to celebrate his new position as headmaster .. all are welcome to join”. ‘Headmaster .. oh my how incredibly presumptuous” Y/N chuckled into her drink. “Excuse me” squeaked Astoria, she spun around rapidly locking eyes with Y/n. Y/n folded her arms across her chest and began “I do believe you heard me Astoria .. you said headmaster and thats yet to be revealed so for you to address Draco as said headmaster is well.. presumptuous”. Astorias tongue prodded the inside of her cheek, you could tell by the hue of red in her face she was infuriated but trying to find the words without imploding.

“Well , I just know he will ok so yeah just know that”, spat Astoria in a feeble attempt to shake off Y/ns rightful observation’. ‘Oh I see” snapped y/n “why didn't you say it was you sooner, Sybil , Sybil Trelawney teacher of divination . What are you doing here under the guise of Polyjuice potion? I mean you could’ve just come with your crystal ball and tea leaves and said he was the winner that way instead of this elaborate scheme don’t you think?” The laughter of fellow by standers suddenly erupted around the women. Astoria who now sup parsed hues of red was the shade of a beetroot , completely enraged prepared to snap she was interrupted by Dumbledore. “ NOW now girls quell your fiery natures, this is to be a peaceful night of celebrations”. The woman smiled coyly at Dumbledore. ‘My apologies Dumbledore” y/n chimed up. “We speak no more of it ok” Dumbledore smiled and gently patted the crown of y/ns head and proceeded to make his way back to his chair. Y/N turned and smiled gloatingly at Astoria. In response Astoria screwed her face up mockingly and fled no doubt to chastise Draco for not swooping in and defending her.

“Pwoarh Nice one mate” chuckled Fred as he held out his fist waiting for Y/n to bump it. Hahah stop it you she giggled. ‘Here , should we go to the manor after this for a laugh” sniggered George appearing alongside them. “Ha, I'm sure she’s revoked my invitation effective immediately” said Y/n, as she peered over to Astoria , she could see her flailing her arms around whilst Draco made no attempt to conceal his look of boredom in the conversation. “You know what lets .. Ive been dying to get a peek of the manor anyway what harm can it do”. ‘Cracking’ the twins harmonised in unison. The trio linked arms and jollied along.

Once arrived at the manor they soon found it to be every bit luxurious as they envisioned. The floors were marble and reflected the light of the enormous crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceiling. Each stair of the grand staircase was illuminated by candle light creating an auburn strip propelling up the length of the stairs. Every inch of the manor oozed with decadence. “Wow , its rather impressive” mused y/n . “You can say that again” chimed Fred as he helped himself to a glass of champagne , handing one over to y/n. They began to mingle and drink with the rest of the party guests it was an overall pleasant evening that was until Astoria appeared before Y/n. “Glad to see you could make it y/n” said Astoria with a constipated smile. She had made little to no effort to conceal her sarcastic tone.

Y/n had no interest in rehashing todays mini confrontation. Instead she pulled a sickly sweet smile and said “ Wouldn’t miss it for the world, thank you for your generous hospitality Ms Green grass.” Astorias face dropped “green green .. she muttered, haha don’t be silly you must get use to calling me Mrs Malfoy”. Now despite y/ns fondness to antagonise Astoria at any given opportunity she couldn’t help but see she was visibly hurt. She immediately began to fumble her words in a bid to preserve her feelings “honestly , Astoria I'm sorry I didn't know the extent of your relationship .. I apologise”. Astoria still hadn’t reacted she stood stationary bottom lip protruding sad and helpless like a lost puppy. Y/n gently squeezed Astorias forearm and began to say “ look you mustn't pay it any mind, Draco wouldn’t dare indulge in any small talk with me about family life .. so don’t stress it congratulations by the way”. Astoria looked up at her with eyes softened . Relief washed over Y/n as she could tell she was receptive to her. Y/n couldn’t help but wonder to herself why he hadn’t mentioned news as big as that , they had worked so closely over these months . To be fair on a good day if you hadn’t known Draco you wouldn’t even know he had a girlfriend let alone fiancé .. or wife ?

Astoria went to talk but just then none other than Draco emerged behind her . His hand came down onto her shoulder. sharply. “ thats enough now sweetheart , I think Daphne was looking for you actually”. There was a weird exchange of eye contact Astoria weakly smiled and left. It was now just y/n and Draco stood before one another. Draco broke the silence by clearing his throat “ Y/L/N, may I interest you in a nightcap in my office ,there are things Id appreciate to discuss before we venture into our new working relationship”. Although slightly bewildered she agreed as after all they were to work alongside one another and she’d rather it be somewhat harmonious than turbulent.

Y/n followed Draco across the length of the great hall and into a pair of grand double doors. The room was vast , books littered the walls as far as the eye could see and in the corner a fireplace roared. Draco stood behind his desk and motioned for y/n to take a seat opposite him. She smoothed the back of her dress and proceeded to make herself comfortable. Draco started pouring whiskey from the crystal decanter into a couple of whiskey tumblers. The burn of the fire whisky ignited as it glided down her throat. The combination of whiskey and champagne left Y/N beginning to feel somewhat merry, she hadn’t really noticed during the quiet sobering conversation with Astoria. ‘So what is it you have in mind Draco?”. His stormy grey eyes peered over at her from behind his glass. ‘Very well” he remarked and manoeuvred himself to Y/NS side of the desk .He perched himself on the edge legs akimbo and both his large veiny hands clasped around his whiskey glass. Y/n inhaled sharply as she averted her gaze from his legs splayed before her. Continuing he said “ As you're aware I have my plans about how Hogwarts should be run , I have a detailed strategy and I plan to implement it as soon as possible .. so what I'm really asking is are you with me or against me because I have no intention of being held back”.

Y/n blinked rapidly .. she was unable to process what he was saying , how could he be so smug thinking he had headmaster place secured already. “ Fuck sake Draco, ok first that wasn’t really posed as an option now was it ?, also enough with belief that its your divine right to just be appointed as headmaster! What makes you think that if you somehow are the headmaster I will just bend at your will? Pathetic!” She scoffed into her drink. Draco began to stifle a laugh “ Ah you do amuse me y/n”, look I'm willing to let you have some creative control … only if you prove to me how badly you so desire it”. His suggestive smile sent shivers up y/n. “Fuck you Malfoy” she hissed and jolted from her seat, once she reached the door she rattled the doorknob but to no avail the door wouldn’t budge. “Open it now” she demanded . Draco slowly sauntered towards her and leant across the door “hmm I thought you liked a challenge .. guess I was wrong this will be no fun after all ” Draco was indeed correct Y/n did enjoy a challenge and he’d be gravely mistaken if he thought she would let him get away without putting up a fight”.

Something switched in Y/n she turned to face Draco who was only inches away. He towered over her with his svelte frame encased in an all black suit. ‘Is this what you want Draco hmm” she said in a sultry tone whilst hooking her finger into his belt loop pulling him closer. You want me to beg ..or would you rather me on my knees .. better yet I could be a good girl and just bend over that desk right now and let you have your way if thats what you want” . Draco's breathing was now laboured within seconds he had pulled y/n in by the waist flipped her round having her pressed against the door, his body weight up against her and his hand holding her arms in place on the door. Y/n could feel the stiffness of his impressive length against her derrière. With a shallow gasp he breathed dangerously close to her ear “ be careful what you wish for ms Y/L/N , I don’t take too kindly to false promises as I always get what I want” . With that he tossed her around to face him .Y/n was now panting her body was burning in desire she wanted nothing more than to drop to her knees there and then. No wonder Astoria was attached to his hip.. if this was anything to go off.

Y/n bit her lip she felt dizzy with emotions . Draco stood before her with a devious smile , his hands soon intertwining at her waist and face buried in her décolleté littering it with kisses making his way down to her ample bosom. Y/n couldn’t help but throw her head back in delight eliciting a small moan. That only became fuel for Draco as he hoisted her leg from the floor and wrapped it around him. It was then Y/n felt a vibration from the opposite side of the door., as if someone had knocked from the outside . It was then followed by a mousy ‘ Dray , are you in there’. Draco paused for a moment grip still tight on y/n. “What is it I'm having a business meeting , i'll be out shortly don’t hover ”. It was clear who it was… the pair unraveled themselves from one another quickly smoothing out clothing and rejigging themselves. ‘Ok let us” let me stop you Draco, Y/n interrupted pressing her finger against his lips to audibly shush him. “ As if you think id let this happen you think you get to fuck me then you do as you please and I a dutiful little lap dog . Pfffft what a joke like it or not I'm going to be your boss so the only way I'm fucking you is in the more figurative sense , now you better hurry up don’t want to keep your fiancé waiting or Is it wife hmmm”. With a quick flick from her wand she sent the door swinging open and promptly stormed out.

The day had finally arrived the great hall of Hogwarts was alive with the buzz of chatter. The sizeable table at the forefront of the hall hosted all the teachers and most importantly both Draco and y/n. Dumbledore made his way to the podium, he produced his wand and placed it at the base of his neck it acted as a megaphone propelling his voice across the hall. “Everybody if I may have your attention please.” The chatter soon died down and everyone eagerly cast their eyes on him. “ Right, I shan’t keep you in suspense anymore , it is time to announce your new headmaster & deputy ’. Both Draco and y/n fidgeted in their seats after all these months of rivalry it had boiled down to this. “ Ladies and gentlemen, introducing Ms y/n y/l/n your new headmaster !” Boomed Dumbledore. .Y/N shrieked she was giddy with excitement she couldn’t believe she had actually done it. Everyone around her broke out into wild applause there were whistles and jeers laughter overall excitement. She was being ushered by the surrounding teachers to get up to the podium to make a speech. As she was making her way she cast eyes on Draco, there he stood paler than usual and unresponsive he was there physically but not mentally his carcass stood stationary unable to ingest the news he had just been fed.

The days rolled into weeks weeks rolled into months and y/n had almost completed a whole term at Hogwarts. All was going swimmingly and albeit begrudgingly Draco was in-fact a great support on her journey. It was the last night of term and y/n sat a her desk pondering over a mountain of papers. Y/n sighed and cradled her head in her hands , she was exhausted she spent all her time dedicated to the role that she forgot to take time out for herself. There was a knock at the door “Come in” she yelled out. Draco's head emerged around the door. ‘

Oh hey you , come in come in” ushering him to the desk. ‘Oh dear , sucks to be you , regretting the position of power now?” Draco chuckled menacingly. “Ha ha very funny” she uttered dryly. “Anyway , some of the other teachers are going out for drinks but I can see you are busy” said Draco eyeballing the mountains of paper. “Yeah.. I afraid I am , but you enjoy yourself Draco have a drink for me and i'll see you next term” she smiled warmly at him. Draco locked eyes on her , hands stuffed in his pocket he began to fidget. “In all honesty I'm not the fondest of all the people going .. also Id much rather not be at home ..before you laugh or probe why just don’t because I won’t go into it but I can’t bare to spend another moment longer with …her .. so umm yeah , I can help you out here then say you make it up to me buying me a drink later?”

Y/n smirked “You’re quite then enigma aren’t you Draco ..? He raised his eyebrows at her in acknowledgement. “Fine , id appreciate that very much but I am rather tired so if it's not beneath you I can offer you a drink at mine ..”. His eyes flickered up to meet hers , stifling a smile . “Id like that ..”he said softly , ‘well then , let's get to work” y/n smiled. Draco and y/n worked through the night it was filled with chatter and laughter they felt at ease with one another. Once they finished up the momentum continued on at y/ns house. Copious amounts of fire whiskey later they found themselves delving into deeper topics having more in-depth conversations and discovering more about one another. Draco's whole demeanour was very relaxed and this was foreign to y/n. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and tie loosened. ‘You know .. you're an alright person not that much of a pain in my arse surprisingly” Draco chuckled swigging another mouthful of whiskey. “Well thats rich” laughed y/n.

“Right well I've really enjoyed this but its getting late , I can barley keep my eyes open … earlier you mentioned you didn't want to go back so .. you're more than welcome to stay …. Only if you want”. Rattled by the kind gesture he smiled affectionately. Stumbling over his words “umm yeah , thank you y/n you’ve exceeded your generosity let me at least grab us coffee for the morning then. “Sounds like a plan , hopefully you won’t find me a pain in the arse again come morning ”. With a cackle Y/n got up from the couch and showed Draco to the spare room. Once at the door she began to wish him a goodnight. As he went to hug y/n his lips grazed her cheek. Y/n suddenly recoiled , a silence loomed over them as they gazed at one another the emotions of that night in Draco's office flooding back. Y/n could feel the heat surging in her cheeks so she hastily wished him a good night and scurried to her room. Once in the shelter of her room she let out a sigh of relief. She knew it was the right thing to do but my how she craved him.

Draco burst through the door making a beeline for Y/N. He took her into his arms and kissed her with an insatiable hunger. Backing her into the wall he began to rid her of her clothing . Y/n hands clambered at his chest to do same however he abruptly stopped her “ Oh no you don’t , you think I forgot about that little stint in my office huh ? Well I didn't and I've been awaiting the day I get to fuck you senseless Ms y/n … you control me all day and now its y turn to control you .. you will do everything I say do you understand” . Enthralled by his dominance Y/n nodded enthusiastically. “Sorry I didn't hear you “ roared Draco grabbing her face towards his. “Yes who”. “Yes Draco” she moaned . “You can do better than that dear yes who, i'll only ask you one more time or i'll have bent over my knee.. so what will it be?” . “Yes … daddy “ she muttered bashfully. “Thats my girl” he bellowed. He grabbed her and thrust her onto the bed , he unfastened his tie and instructed her to lift her hands above her head. Y/n did as commanded. He bound her wrists up and hooped them over the bed post. “Now, I'm going to have my way with you and you don’t get to touch me understood!” ‘Yes daddy y/n whimpered” “ahh what a good girl you are, ugh the things I'm going to do to you”. Y/ns eyes winded in desire, Draco shimmied y/ns shirt up and instructed her to bite down using it as a makeshift gag. He suddenly began to kiss her lower abdomen slowly sliding off her trousers.

Y/n titled her hips aiding him in taking them off. Draco's eyes lit up upon the discovery of her not wearing any undergarments “oh so you were anticipating me you filthy slut” Draco chuckled darkly’. He teased and taunted kissing her inner thighs only grazing her sex, this drove y/n crazy her body craved him inside her. Draco finally delicately licked a strip against her folds causing her body to crumble at the slightest of his touch. His warm moist tongue began frantically massaging her causing her to rive in ecstasy . His tongue began to vibrate excitedly against her clitoris sending shock waves through her entire body , she bucked her hips in excitement unable to keep her composure as Draco's tongue fixated on lapping up the one spot that drove her insane. Y/n was close he was relentless with his tongue against her swollen bud , just as she was about to finish Draco withdrew. Y/ns face fell in disgust just as she was about complain he plunged his fingers deep inside her ..pumping rhythmically y/ns juices coated his fingers . His other hand sloped around her neck , eventually this caused her to release all over his hand. Draco's pupils now engulfed his eyes …he was enthralled in pleasure watching her crumble for him . “ Aren’t you a good girl , snarled Draco “squirting for daddy , whilst I love it I don’t recall giving you permission to” .y/n squirmed overcome with pleasure unable to respond.

He unhooked her and brought her to her knees. He ripped her shirt from her mouth and produced his veiny throbbing cock dripping with pre cum. Y/n gasped in astonishment and eagerly attempted to take him all in her mouth bobbing her head enthusiastically until her jaw ached and eyes began to stream. He hurled his head back in pleasure as her tongue gently caressed his pulsating tip. “Ugh yeah just like that baby “ he muttered .

Without warning y/n sucked on the tip with vigour. Draco let out a ferocious moan whilst grabbing y/ns hair fashioning it into a ponytail attempting to make her glide her tongue down the rest of his shaft. He couldn’t have her do that for too long as he surely would finish in her mouth. “You filthy filthy girl “ he beamed as he pulled her off his cock . Rocking her head back spiting in her mouth. He brought yn to her feet and began kissing her deeply interlocking his tongue with hers , she yearned so badly to touch him to feel her skin against his. “ Get over here , I want you leant over this bed frame whilst I fuck you .. I'm going to cum on that pretty pussy then I'm going to put it back in understand!” Firmly instructed Draco . “Yes daddy” that’s my girl he cooed. Draco teasingly stroked his member against her entrance this sent shock waves through y/n causing her to gyrate in hopes he would slip in. Draco caught onto this and his hand came down harshly on her derrière .y/n let out a gasp. “Don’t be greedy now” he laughed tightening his makeshift restraints on her wrists. Relentless with his teasing it was a shock to y/n when Draco abruptly pushed into her. Y/n was in euphoria as was Draco as the warmth of her walls swaddled his manhood.

Draco slammed into y/n her body rattling with pleasure, just then Draco felt himself out to release .. so true to his word he instructed y/n to lay on her back so he could empty his contents onto her. He threw his head back in jubilation upon release. As he went to enter her again this time her was slower much more gentle taking y/n into his arms. “How do you want me to finish you off baby?,like this or I could use my fingers?” Y/n shuddered remembering the bliss she was in from his lengthy fingers so it would be a no brainer to opt for them “Fingers please daddy” she uttered softly.

He untangled himself from her stood up and offered his hand . Taking her across the room he sat down in-front of the floor length mirror instructing y/n to sit in between his legs. “If its fingers you was then its fingers you’ll get but your gonna have to watch me”. His large hand sloped up her neck tenderly chocking her whilst his other massaged at her slit . Y/n was still dripping from earlier so it was light work for him to imbed his fingers into her. Y/n couldn’t take it the combination of Draco's fierce unwavering gaze in the mirror and the sheer bliss she felt with her legs quaking she soon released decorating the mirror in-front her. “Ugh your amazing baby” he beamed kissing her forehead gracefully. “Here let's get you cleaned up and we can cuddle in bed”. “Oh my … I didn't peg you as a cuddling type Draco” y/n laughed gingerly attempting to get up her legs still trembling beneath her. “Shut up you” he scolded “when will you learn there’s a lot you still don’t know about me y/n”.

[cloverque]

[12:30 AM]

“here again?” the redhead has his arms akimbo behind you and you hum questioningly. you turn your head to look up at him.

“oh, master diluc!” your eyes sparkle upon meeting his crimson gaze. you flash him a toothy grin, “fancy seeing you here!”

the head of the ragnvindr clan folds his arms across his chest. he juts out his chin indignantly, “really, (y/n)? you’ve been fishing near dawn winery for the past seven days. outside my home.”

a nervous chuckle fills the air as you rub the back of your head sheepishly. “w-wow! you’ve been keeping an eye on me, haven’t you?”

“you’ve been trespassing on private property. my property,” he adds.

“ehh, so even this little rock in the middle of the lake belongs to you?”

silence fills the air. diluc pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation, eyes closed and you smile. knowing that you have won, you continue looking into the still waters. the bait on the end of the line bobbles in the distance and you focus. but your peace shatters once again when he grumbles.

“what are you looking for?” the male murmurs whilst rubbing his temples.

“bitter pufferfish! i heard they taste the worst. diona said she wanted some for a new drink. i just couldn’t say no,” you recall how your colleague went on about a new concoction she was to make.

the feline girl’s excitement was contagious and you found yourself promising to aid her conquest in making another delightful– ah, disgusting beverage. an unsolicited giggle escapes your lips.

diluc leans against the sole tree on the islet. “they shouldn’t be hard to catch. at least, not a week’s worth of fishing.”

“but they never bite! i’ve only caught some venomspine fish so far.”

“let me see,” he gestures for your fishing rod which you passed over reluctantly. the redhead reels the line in and inspects the wet, mushy red bait on the hook. not a second passes before he glares, “you’ve been using the wrong bait this whole time!”

“what?! no no no, there’s no way– i’m certain of it!”

you scramble to your feet and snatch the rod from him. he returns your scowl as he exhales through his nostrils.

“you’re such a dolt sometimes.”

“hey, just because we’ve known each other since birth doesn’t give you the right to call me that!”

“i’m just stating facts,” he rolls his eyes and puts up his hands in front of him when you start to hammer his chest with your fists. over your whines, he chuckles mirthlessly, “okay okay, i’m sorry. i was joking.”

you step back and fold your arms. a pout settles on your face, “you better be, diluc ragnivindr! or you’ll become a wet dog tonight.”

“a wet wh–”

he barely finishes because you push him into the water. his arms flail like a fish and you screech with laughter, bent over and hugging your stomach at the sight. then he disappears under water.

dark bubbles foam on the surface and you rub your teary eyes. “o-okay, that was too funny… ha, diluc, you can come up now… haha…” you peer into the water expectantly but he does not reappear. growing concern buds in your chest as you step closer to the edge of the islet.

a hand shoots out of the water, grabs you by the ankles and pulls you in. you scream and fall face first into the water unceremoniously. what happens next is a blur: struggling to breathe, flopping arms and coughing. then you realise you’re looking at a pair of fiery red eyes. ones that belong to your childhood friend.

you blow bubbles on the surface. “you’re so mean.”

“serves you right,” he breathes, lips quirk up in a smirk.

then you smile back and a soft laugh rumbles in your chest. your arms find themselves around his neck and you wrap your legs around his waist. unbeknownst to you, diluc flushes as you hide your face in the space between his neck and collarbone.

“w-what are you doing?” he threads water a little quicker because of your weight. an arm curls around your waist whilst you whine.

“i’m freezing and too lazy to move. hurry up and get us outta here already, diluc!”

“you’re the one that got us into this the first place…” he retorts, and although you hit his chest playfully (and splash water in his face) he ignores you and starts swimming back to shore.

you crane your neck over the wavering water and gasp, “but my fishing pole!”

“forget it, we’ll come back for it tomorrow.”

“oh? i’m holding you to your word, master diluc!”

“archons, stop calling me that.”

text © cloverque 2021. please do not plagiarise, edit or repost. character belongs to genshin impact by mihoyo.

[snackhobi]

pairing: namjoon x reader / word count: 9.3k / genre: pwp/smut

summary: You’ve been letting your laundry pile up for a little too long. Fortunately, your neighbour Namjoon is there to lend you a hand.

warnings: sexually explicit content, masturbation, edging (kinda), unintentional voyeurism (briefly), oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms (f receiving), bigdick!joon, dirty talk, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, overstimulation (reader gets fucked dumb), praise, aftercare (please heed the warnings, and let me know if I need to clarify/add any!)

--

For most people, Sunday is a day of rest. But not for you.

Sunday means chores. Sunday means tidying up, dusting, vacuuming. Sunday means finally doing all the Adult Things you’ve been too busy/lazy to do for the rest of the week (or even longer than that, as evidenced by your overflowing laundry basket). Sunday means work. 

You slap at your vibrating phone, fingers sliding uselessly across the screen as you fumble to cut off the chirping alarm, and then you groan. “Ugh." You bury your head into your crumpled pillow. And then, once more, with feeling: “Uggggggh.”

You roll around in your bed, thrashing a little like a child having a tantrum, before you flop on your back and stare at your ceiling with your limbs akimbo, a starfish.

“Why?” You whine out to no one in particular. “Why me?”

Fortunately you live alone, so there’s no one to witness your sulky behaviour.  You would put off getting all your errands done, but you’ve already been doing this for so long that you’re practically out of clean clothes to wear. That’s one part about living alone that’s a double-edged sword- you have your own space where you can act however you please, which is Great, but also you’re the only one responsible for keeping on top of things, which is Less Great. You can’t rely on other people to get things done for you.

You’ve never been a morning person, and the fact it’s so nice outside already does nothing to brighten your mood; it’s the perfect kind of day, the chilled bite to the air mellowed by the sun in the cloudless, pale sky, and you’re going to have to spend it indoors. Ugh. You eventually grit your teeth and pull yourself out of bed, waking yourself up with a cold shower. Once you force a cup of overly sweet coffee into your system and the caffeine hits you so that you’re fully awake and ready to go, the world suddenly feels a lot more bearable. So you’re unperturbed when your underwear drawer comes up practically empty.

“Oops,” you say. “Oh well.”

It’s practically empty, but not entirely; there, at the back, there’s that pretty lingerie set you’d bought on a whim in a sale and then promptly never worn. Honestly you’d be happy to go without, seeing as no one else is here and you have no one to look pretty for, but you find that you never get anything done if you’re not in a bra. It’s like a Pavlovian response that you've ingrained into yourself: when you get home, your bra comes straight off, no ifs, buts, or maybes. Bra off means it’s Relaxation Time. Bra on? That means it's time to get things done.

But, yeah, if you’re going to wear the bra, you may as well wear the matching thong, right? It came as a set so you’d basically be committing a crime if you didn’t wear them together. You take one moment to admire yourself in the mirror, turning this way and that to appreciate how it makes you look, before promptly ruining the illusion of sexiness by covering it up with a pair of old sweatpants and a too-large tank top. They're the only bits of clothing not in your laundry basket that you don't mind getting dirty while you clean, so, you have to make do.

The worst part about doing chores is getting the whole process started, but you’ve been doing this long enough that you have a routine. Bra on, hair up, mental checklist ready. You toddle through to the kitchen with your laundry basket, picking through for the colours and whites, feeling entirely too accomplished once you get the first load sorted. This kickstarts the whole chore procedure and once you get stuck in, you actually start to have fun; you’ve got your noise cancelling headphones on and your cleaning playlist is full of songs that get you pumped up, and you sing along to the music as you get started on your next job.

You wiggle your butt to the rhythm of the beat while you hoover, pushing your vacuum into the corners of your flat and ruthlessly sucking up the dust bunnies that have gathered there. You're in the middle of belting out one particularly long note when a spider scuttles out from under your sofa and the note rises into a little scream; you act on pure instinct and suck the spider up into the hoover, watching as all the long hairy legs fold together and get schlorped into the vacuum’s nozzle before disappearing forever. You feel immediately relieved but also immensely guilty when this happens- spiders are awful and you hate them but usually you’d try your best to catch them under a cup before flinging it outside, so the fact you’ve maybe just killed it? You really are just awful. (But thank God it’s gone.)

Maybe that's enough hoovering for now.

You empty the dust bag into the bin, mindful of the fact that the spider might still be alive and come crawling out onto your hands. Thankfully it doesn’t, but you’re not going to take any chances; you draw the bin liner shut and tie it tight, before deciding that the best course of action is to put it into your outside bin, in case the spider decides to come back with a vengeance. 

You hoist the bag up and pause for a second to glance down at how the straps of your too-loose top have slipped down your shoulders to reveal the top of bra, the intricate lace trim of the cups and extra straps that criss cross your chest- definitely an, uh, interesting outfit choice for a quick trip out of your flat. You make the executive decision to shrug on a hoodie and zip it all the way to your neck to preserve your modesty and save you from the chill outside. Once that’s done it takes two seconds to slip your feet into your (fake) Converse shoes, another few seconds to fiddle with the lock on your door, struggling with the latch- it’s been a bit janky for a while and you keep forgetting to sort it out- before you hop your way downstairs and  to the outside shed where everyone's bins are stored.

Ewch. It doesn’t smell that great in here. You make quick work of dumping your rubbish and escaping from the hut, shutting the door firmly behind you to try and keep the stench locked inside, before almost falling over when you feel the telltale sensation of a cat curling around your ankles. He’s meowing up at you but your headphones have been drowning him out, so you slide them off your ears and hook them around your neck so you can actually hear him.

"Oh, hi, baby!" The ginger stray likes to hang nearby the building, always friendly and happy to see you, even if he seems to like sneaking up when you least expect it. He meows at you again as you squat down to stroke him, butting his head into your palm as his tail curls in delight. "Aren't you just the most gorgeous boy? Yes, you are, aren't you?"

The cat ends up putting his paws onto your knee to butt his face against yours, and the next thing you know, you have an armful of cat. You laugh and continue to pet him, cooing at how cute he is as he purrs back. "Awh, baby, you're so sweet," you say. "I wish I could take you home, but my meanie landlord says we can't have pets."

“I was thinking of starting a petition, actually, so the landlord gets rid of the No Pets clause in the tenancy agreement. You’re welcome to sign it if you like.”

You glance up from where you’ve been allowing the cat to shove his nose against your chin, standing up straight to address the man who’s talking to you, cat still clutched in your arms. “Oh! Hi, Namjoon-ssi. That’s such a good idea, I love that. Stick it to the man. I’d definitely sign it. How are you today?”

Kim Namjoon, aka your neighbour from across the hall, is smiling at the cat in your arms. Namjoon’s the perfect neighbour and ideal tenant- quiet, tidy, considerate, although he does have a tendency to lose his keys and gets locked out of his flat on a pretty regular basis. 

It’s actually how you’d started to talk in the first place. When you first moved in you’d given him a small box of chocolates to endear yourself to your same-floor-friend, only exchanging small nods and pleasant greetings for a while after that, but after you’d found Namjoon waiting sheepishly on his own doorstep- “My friend has a key but it’s going to take him a little while to get here,” he’d explained- you’d invited him into your own flat to wait, rather than just in the hall. 

Since then you’ve started to have chats whenever you see each other, and occasionally knock on each other’s doors whenever you ask to borrow things like sugar or a screwdriver or whatever, and you always invite Namjoon in for a cup of tea when he’s waiting for one of his friends to rescue him from his own forgetful nature. You’re still toeing the line between Friendly Neighbours and Kind Of Friends, but one thing you already know and admire about Namjoon is his ability to actually be a mature and put together adult. Sure, you drink a decent amount of water, you have a skincare routine with multiple steps, and you usually manage to eat your 5-a-day, but a lot of that feels like you do it because you’re expected to, sort of like a child playing make-believe. 

Namjoon, meanwhile, manages to just ooze the sort of gravitas that comes with being a fully realised human being, someone who actively participates in the world around them because they’re entirely engaged with things and basically just Super Mature Adult (even if he apparently loses/breaks things on a fairly regular basis). Hence why you’re not at all surprised at the petition thing, or when Namjoon proceeds to tell you that he’s going to spend the afternoon at his friend’s uncle’s strawberry farm, picking fruit, because of course Namjoon is the kind of guy who supports local, organic, free range produce. (Wait. Can strawberries be free range? Or is that just eggs?)

“Ahh, I love strawberries! That’s so cool,” you say. “It must be fun.”

“You’re welcome to come, if you like,” Namjoon says. He’s always gracious so you know he’s just saying this to be polite, but you can’t help but think it would probably be really nice to spend time picking fruit and talking with him.

“Ah, I’d love to, but unfortunately I have prior commitments. I’m catching up on chores,” you admit ruefully. You’re still absently scritching the ginger cat’s chin as you speak, the animal purring up a storm in your arms and shedding all over your clothes, although you don’t notice or care. Namjoon is incredibly endeared- not that you notice that, either. “Hence the runway-ready outfit.”

Your hair is so messy it looks like some sort of wild possum has been nesting in it, your hoodie sleeves are so long they threaten to swallow your hands, and you’re not even wearing your cheap knock-off shoes properly- you’re stepping on the back collar of them in your bare feet so they’re basically glorified flip-flops at this point. Total fashionista. (Not.)

Namjoon, however, seems surprised at your dismissive tone. “You look cute and cozy,” he says.

You snort in an unladylike way, lifting the cat in your arms a little- you can’t gesture properly with an armful of fur, especially when the stray takes this as an invitation to crane upwards and shove his little face into the crook of your neck, knocking against your headphones. “Cute baby,” you coo at the cat, before turning your attention back to Namjoon. “You look cute and cozy,” you echo. It’s a little chilly today and Namjoon’s wrapped up, long scarf curled around his neck, beanie on his head, hem of his coat fluttering around his thighs. Super cozy, and again, a well-put-together adult. 

You muffle a sigh. He’s a well-put-together and hot adult, tall and built, so handsome in his casual outfit, effortlessly masculine. You’ve been lowkey crushing on Namjoon for a while now, as futile as that effort is- you haven’t seen any evidence of a special someone in Namjoon’s life, but there’s no way that man is single. Even if he somehow is, he’s like, a bajillion light years out of your league, hyper intelligent and kind and gorgeous, in comparison to your… um… your… well. Yeah. In comparison to that. 

He’s nice to you and he smiles whenever he sees you, though, and your weak little heart can’t help but flip flop in your chest whenever you see that dimpled little smile, even if you know you don’t have a chance in hell that he really thinks that you’re cute. He’s just being polite. 

The cat in your arms gives a little wriggle, apparently sated for the day, and you carefully squat down to deposit him onto the ground. He gives you both one last little mewl before scampering off and you fondly watch him go. “Let me know when you have that petition written up,” you say, brushing the cat hairs off your sleeves. “I better get back to my flat, I need to finish the rest of my laundry so I can continue the facade of being a functional adult. Have a great day, Namjoon-ssi, and I hope you enjoy the strawberries! You’ll have to tell me how they are.”

“I will,” he says, eyes warm as he smiles, those little dimples appearing in his cheeks. Ugh, you want to touch them so much. “Good luck with your laundry.”

Namjoon’s beautiful smile fuels you for the rest of the day, buoying you up as you scrub the walls of your shower and bleach your toilet, bright yellow gloves a size too large for your hands as you spritz your bathroom counter. You might not be a legitimate adult in the same way that your neighbour is but you can give it a damn good go; even if the rest of your life is maybe a bit more chaotic than you’d like, you can at least get your surroundings in order.

And you do. By the time you’re finished with hoovering and mopping your floors and reorganising your clutter, your flat feels brand-spanking new again, fresh and clean and airy. You’d even lit a few scented candles earlier and you give yourself a pat on the back for your forward thinking as you snuff them out, the delicate smell of vanilla lightly filling the apartment. All that’s left is to go to the kitchen and put the final load of laundry in the tumble dryer and once that’s been emptied and sorted, you’re all finished. Mission accomplished. Chores done.

Once the tumble dryer has started its cycle you reward yourself with a cup of tea, a blackcurrant and blueberry fruit infusion that you’d gotten as a Secret Santa gift at work and hadn’t used yet, saving it for a special occasion. You hum to yourself and continue to wiggle your hips to the music trickling out of your headphones as the kettle boils, watching the purple that bleeds from the tea bag once the hot water cascades over it. It looks rich and vibrant and it smells so good- but then you make a little face when you take a sip. Fruit teas never taste as good as they smell. It’s not bad but it’s a little disappointing, really, a subpar reward after a hard day of work. 

You stand in the middle of your kitchen with your mug still in your hand, eyes unfocused as you stare into space, trying to think of things in your flat that you could use to reward yourself. You’ve already used up those fancy gel eye masks that Jimin had given you for your birthday, and you’d let Jungkook have your sheet masks when he’d said his favourite brand was out of stock; Taehyung had pilfered all of your bath bombs as part of an experiment (the experiment being that he wanted to know what colour his bath water would turn if he used all your different bath bombs in it- the answer was ‘an incredibly underwhelming, if glittery, sludge brown’), and he still hasn’t gotten around to replacing them.

Pay day isn’t until next week and you’re tight enough on money at the moment that you don’t want to order out for dinner- living alone means you have to pay more rent so you have to be more careful with money- so you’re out of ideas. 

That is until motion out of the corner of your eye catches your attention. You glance over at it, pulled out of your reverie; the old tumble dryer has been in this flat longer than you and it’s showing signs of wear and tear, base warped a little from age, noisy and wobbly as your clothes are being spun inside. You pause, mug dropping a little in your hand as the thought briefly flickers through your mind, before you bite your lip and throw caution to the wind. Fuck it. You live alone and you’ve had a long day and you deserve some kind of reward. 

You abandon your unfinished mug of tea in the sink before eyeing the shaking tumble dryer. You hoist yourself up, straddling the corner of the machine, a little shiver running through you when you feel the vibrations through your legs and thighs as you settle into place; it takes time to situate yourself, thighs spreading as you tilt your hips forward and press your heat against the rumbling dryer. You shift on your hands, palms braced against the top of the machine as you wriggle into the best position- the second you get just the right angle you let out a little gasp, eyes squeezing shut when you feel how the shaking machine is sending vibrations throughout your entire body.

You keep your eyes shut as you continue to find the right rhythm. You rock your hips forward each time the machine rocks back, rolling the weight of your body down towards your clenching cunt; the vibrations are so strong that you can feel them through your sweatpants, lace of your thong rubbing against your clit in a deliciously rough way, sending little shockwaves of pleasure through you.

As you continue to work yourself up, your skin starts to feel overheated under your clothes, even with the chill spring air seeping into the flat- you fumble with the zip of hoodie, letting the material sag open before you brace yourself with your palms again. You feel how the hoodie slips down your arms, baring your shoulders, and you tilt your head back, revealing the line of your neck as you arch your spine. Each rumble of the machine rolls through you, wetness starting to slicken your folds as you grind down a little harder. It’s a steady, slow climb towards your peak- you shut your eyes to focus fully on the pleasure building between your legs, the way your clit feels swollen and almost over-sensitive from the strong vibrations from the dryer, the way your pussy clenches whenever you get the angle just right.

You start to gasp, biting back moans when you feel how your orgasm is getting closer. You lift one hand from the top of the dryer to run your hands over your skin- your neck, your throat, tracing over the straps of the bra that are digging into the swell of your breasts. It’s good, really good, but it’s not enough; every time you feel like the peak of your orgasm is about to crest, it ebbs away again, and you let out a little whine from the back of your throat. 

With your eyes still shut, you try to conjure up images that’ll arouse you and send you tumbling over the edge. Hands on your body, lips against your skin, your mouth. Normally when you masturbate you try to keep away from thinking about anyone in particular, because you feel like if you see that person in the future they’ll just telepathically know about it and you end up feeling awkward and guilty (even if you know it's illogical)- but today you can’t help it. Your mind slips to the thought of Namjoon this morning and the way he’d smiled at you, and once you start thinking about Namjoon, you can’t stop. 

Namjoon’s smile. His mouth. His tongue. His hands, his fingers. His tall, beautiful body, pressing you down against a mattress, trapping you against him. You take the hand that’s been trailing over your collarbones and lift it to your mouth and press two fingers past your lips, trying to imagine that it’s Namjoon. Imagine that it’s the weight of his cock on your tongue, hard and heavy. You bet it’s as gorgeous as the rest of him. You bet he tastes so good, hot and salt and maybe a little bitter, heady and masculine; you let out a low moan around your lips as you run the pads of your fingertips over your tongue, saliva pooling in your mouth.

All the while, your music has been playing on, heavy beat thrumming through you as you forget the outside world and focus on the reality you’re conjuring in your mind. Namjoon’s cock in your mouth. Namjoon’s mouth on your cunt. Namjoon’s skin against yours. Namjoon fucking into you, hard and deep. Your blood rises in your veins, toes curling as you can feel how your orgasm is getting ever closer now that you’re this turned on, your cunt leaking with arousal; the thought of Namjoon wanting you as much as you want him is dizzying, as unlikely as it is. The Namjoon in your mind fucks into you with a particularly rough thrust and in the real world you respond with a moan, garbled around the fingers between your lips. Fuck, you’re so close. 

Just as you're nearly there, your playlist ends and everything lapses into silence, your reverie shattered. The moment is gone. Your orgasm slips away from you again and you whimper, unintentionally edging yourself yet again. 

Your eyes flutter open briefly when your haze is broken, although you squeeze them back shut so that you can get back to picturing Namjoon and finally bring yourself to completion- but then your eyes fly open again, fingers stuttering in your mouth and hips going still as your entire body stiffens, blood turning to ice in your veins.

The very real Kim Namjoon is standing in the doorway of your kitchen. There’s a look of utter shock on his face, his lips parted, eyes so wide it looks like his eyeballs are going to pop out of his skull, frozen in place. You don’t know how long he’s been there. You don’t know if he’s just walked in on you. Really, though, it doesn’t matter if he’s been there for five seconds or five hours- he’s seen everything, the way there’s saliva dripping from your mouth around your fingers, tank top barely hiding your lingerie, the way you’ve been bucking your hips against the dryer. Utterly desperate and debauched and depraved. 

There’s a small, white plastic bag in Namjoon’s hands with a pretty strawberry logo on it, drooping further and further towards the floor as his arms go slack. You don’t notice it until it’s slipping loose from his fingers and landing on the floor. 

Berries go rolling out of the sagged plastic and across the tiles but Namjoon doesn’t seem to notice. That single point of motion in the room seems to kickstart your brain into gear, your flight or fight response screaming flight, and you practically throw yourself off the tumble dryer. Your brain is entirely empty of logical thought right now and the only thing you can think of is that you need to get away and hide forever. 

You rush past a still frozen Namjoon, stumbling down your hallway towards your open front door- you notice that the latch is stuck, not clicking into place when you’d come back inside earlier and leaving the door unlocked, you idiot. Namjoon always knocks and it must have swung open as soon as he rapped his knuckles against it, and you wouldn’t have heard it over your goddamn music. You absolute, utter idiot.

You’re not thinking about how illogical it is to flee from your own home to get away from someone. You’re just thinking about your escape. Taehyung’s flat is the nearest and it won’t take long to run there and you can survive without shoes; you’re still barefoot but you don’t have time to grab anything. You have to run. 

You’re just stretching out for the door when you feel large hands grab you from behind. You flail, door swinging shut as your fingers brush against it before you’re being pulled backwards by the arms that have slid around your waist. You start to struggle, squirming in the hold, pushing at the hands trapping you as you instinctively still try to get away from the shame and embarrassment; Namjoon’s body is warm and solid against your back, his muscles effectively trapping you in place, and you can feel how his voice rumbles through him as he speaks, audible through the silence of your headphones.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

You’ve never heard Kim Namjoon sound like this. His voice is authoritative, commanding. The part of your brain that acts on pure instinct- the part that just told you to go hurtling out onto the street without shoes- responds instantly, and you immediately go lax in his hold even though you’re still internally panicking.

“I was planning on going to the moon,” you say, unable to cover up how your voice is shaking, even if you’re trying to hide behind sarcasm. It’s your only defence right now. Your skin prickles with embarrassment. “Where else do you think?”

Namjoon lets out a chuckle, and your toes curl at how deep the sound is. “The mouth on you.” He sounds amused. You can’t look him in the eye. “Were you trying to get away from me?”

“‘Trying’ is the operative word.” You’re still staring resolutely at the door- it’s swung shut and the latch has actually clicked upwards this time. Traitor.  “As you can tell, I’m not doing a very good job. The sooner I go, the sooner I get the paperwork started for my move to Fiji.”

“I thought you were planning on going to the moon.” Namjoon’s hold on you is still firm. You’re utterly helpless. “Changed your mind?”

“Going to open a diner in Fiji to raise funds for my moon mission. It’s a long plan.” The spike of adrenaline that had burst through you is already dissolving in your system, leaving you feeling limp and strung out. You can’t see Namjoon’s face with how your back is crushed against his chest; when you glance down all you can see is how big his hands are against your stomach. Despite yourself, you shiver. As panicked and embarrassed as you are, arousal is still trickling through you, and you hate yourself for the effect that Namjoon is having on you right now. You try to sound calm and unaffected as you continue to speak, but you feel breathless from the lingering pleasure tingling between your legs. “Can you let me go now, please?”

“Is that really what you want?” You’ve had your hands on his wrists from how you’d been trying to push them away, so you feel how one of Namjoon’s hands starts to slide downwards, slow as treacle, and your breath hitches as his fingers slide under the waistband of your sweatpants. They don’t go any further than that, palm splayed over your hipbone, but you feel your pussy clench at the warmth of his hands on your skin and a whimper slips out of you. “Or do you actually want something else?”

Your fingers dig into his wrists. When you open your mouth to reply, your words fail you and instead you just let out a little breath.  You’re in utter disbelief at what’s happening right now, unsure of what’s going on- you’re not an idiot but there is no way that Namjoon is implying what you think he’s implying. Absolutely no way. Not a chance in hell. What?

As you continue to stay silent, brain trying to catch up with the situation, Namjoon doesn’t move.

“Use your words, baby,” he murmurs. “I need to know that you want this.”

Oh, fuck. When Namjoon calls you baby it feels like a switch has been flipped inside you; like he’s slipped a missing fuse into place and your entire body has lit up, full of energy and electricity from his touch. It’s overwhelming. “Of course I want this,” you confirm, trembling, and then: “I want you.”

Namjoon responds by finally moving his hand downwards. You watch as it goes, how he pauses when he makes contact with the fabric of your underwear, the unmistakable texture of embroidered lace under his touch. He drags his fingertips across the straps that cross over themselves, an arrow guiding him to his mark; your entire body goes tense when his fingers glance over your swollen folds, slick through the fabric.

You gasp. You’re still trapped against him by the strong arm curled around you, but your hands are free- you pull your headphones off and let them fall to the floor, twisting your head around so you can finally look at Namjoon’s face. His eyes are hooded and dark. He looks nothing like the cute and clumsy man who waves you good morning every day; he looks like some hungry animal, a predator who’s been waiting for the right time to swallow his prey whole.

“Namjoon,” you breathe. He gives you a small smile that’s more of a smirk, utterly at odds to his usual dimpled beams.

“You don’t have to settle for an old tumble dryer, gorgeous.” He kisses the bare skin of your shoulder, right next to where your bra strap is resting, eyes locked on yours. His lips are so soft and you shiver. “Let me help you.”

“I’ll have you know that tumble dryer was very close to getting me off, actually.” You’re so turned on right now but you can’t help the words slipping out; a lifetime of snark doesn’t leave you the second you start feeling horny. “So it’s less you helping me, and more you giving me something you owe me, seeing as you took it away in the first place.”

Namjoon’s silent for a second, and you wonder if you’ve gone too far- if you’ve run your mouth too much- when he hums. “Ah,” he says. “That’s true. You’re right.”

“Huh?” You say eloquently, surprised, but then he takes the hand out of your sweatpants and you whine. “Hey, put that back, you’re not done yet.”

Namjoon lets out a little chuckle. “No, I’m not,” he agrees. “But I want to see this pretty lingerie properly. You’re all covered up and that just won’t do.”  

He punctuates this statement by taking both of his hands to your hoodie, where it’s been caught at your elbows, and sliding it off you. He drags his large palms down your arms as he does this, cool against your overheated skin; goosebumps appear in the wake of his touch and you shiver again. You have no idea what's going on right now. Everything feels like some sort of fever dream but you're not about to start complaining.

“If you’re about to see me in my unmentionables I’d least like a kiss first,” you say, pout audible in your voice. The truth is you’ve thought about Namjoon’s plush lips more often than you’d like to admit, how beautiful his mouth is, and it’s got to be illegal for Namjoon to have been touching you for as long as he has without letting you have at least one taste of his kisses. “Please?”

“Turn around, baby.” You instantly comply, all but throwing your arms around his neck as you look at him with an innocent, bambi gaze; he still has that half-lidded set to his eyes but you can see how that ravenous hunger is softened by his smile. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” you say. You might sound like the protagonist to some cheesy romance film right now but the truth is that you’re still aware of the heat between your legs, the ebbed arousal that’s still coiling low in your stomach, and as much as you want to kiss Namjoon, you want to cum, too. “Kiss me, kiss me, kiss m-”

Namjoon kisses you. He cuts you off mid sentence by slotting his mouth against yours, open around the word he swallows, and he immediately presses his tongue past your lips; you yield to him, letting him press his lips to your cupid’s bow as you lick his lower lip, soft and full. Just as good as you thought. No- better. His hands stay steady around your waist, but yours keep moving as you keep kissing- his shoulders, his nape, his hair, his jaw. Every part of him is so warm and solid against you and you just can’t get enough.

You slant your head to get deeper, tongues slipping into each other’s mouths in a way that borders on lewd, rubbing against each other as you trade saliva, your mouth full of the taste of Namjoon. You swear there’s a lingering taste of strawberries. You feel better, a little more in control now that you know Namjoon will indulge you even if you’re being a brat, and you can finally chase the thing that got this whole sequence of events started.

“I wanna cum, Namjoon,” you murmur against his lips once you finally part, breathless from his kisses. “Will you help me cum? Please? Pretty please?”

Namjoon’s lip curls back from his teeth in a silent growl, and a shudder runs through you at the sight; seeing your usually composed neighbour act like this because of you is a heady sensation. “You won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you,” he says, and your pussy throbs with need at his words.

“Jesus Christ, Namjoon.” Your eyes are wild. “I want you to fucking wreck me.”

You get no warning before Namjoon is literally sweeping you off your feet and you squeal in surprise when you feel them leave the ground, but Namjoon’s grip on you is steady as he lifts you in a bridal hold. You feel breathless at this physical representation of his strength- you’ve only seen his bare arms once (that had been a nice morning) before but you definitely hadn’t forgotten about how thick they are, as evidenced by the way he’s carrying you. 

Normally you’d probably be chewing him out for lifting you without warning, but right now there’s a very base, animalistic part of you that goes belly up at the very obvious reminder of Namjoon’s superior power. The instinctual part of you that had initially told you to run away from him now seems entirely content with the fact you’ve been caught, and so you stay quiet in his arms. You cling tight to him as he walks to your bedroom without the need for directions, your flat the mirrored twin to his; you keep kissing his neck as he nudges the door open with his foot, running a hand down his chest, feeling the flex of his muscles through the fabric of his shirt. 

He’s so fucking hot, what the fuck.

He’s hot, and strong, but gentle, too. When Namjoon sets you down he’s so careful even though he could easily manhandle you in any way he wanted, and you give him a kiss as a thank you. It’s a brief moment of quiet, that little kiss, but then Namjoon is pulling you back towards him and his hands are all over as he helps you strip; Namjoon’s eyes are heavy on your body as he drinks you in, finally wearing nothing but the lingerie he’s been so desperate to look at.

He sees the way the interweaving straps rest against your skin with the perfect amount of pressure, little swells letting him know that he’ll be able to trace the touch of lace on your body even after he’s ripped it off you. The lace cups of your bra do nothing to hide how your nipples are standing to attention, begging to be touched. But the most eye-catching thing, the thing that Namjoon can’t stop looking at, is how sodden the lace between your legs is; your inner thighs are slick with your arousal, shining, and you haven’t even cum yet. 

“Look at you. So gorgeous,” Namjoon says. “Gonna make you cum over and over, baby.”

His hands feel so good against your skin as he skims his fingers over your panties, but he doesn’t take them off, and you let out a needy little noise. “Please,” you whine. “I need to cum, Joonie, been waiting so long.”

Namjoon watches as you reach to fumble with the clasp of your bra and reaches for your hands, stopping your motions. You blink up at him, confused, but then he’s turning you towards the bed and bending you over it, motions firm and undeniable; not that you would try to defy him, anyway. You brace your palms against the mattress and instantly arch your spine so that your ass is pushed out, enticing as possible.

You’re wondering if you’re going to have to beg for Namjoon to touch you but it seems what little patience he had has run out; his warm palms are immediately against your ass, touch reverent as he slides his hands over your skin, and you press back into that touch, wanting more of it. His hands skim up your sides and his fingers dance along the edge of your bra before reaching for the hooks, unfastening it so that it slips down your arms and onto the bed before you shove it aside. 

He bends over you, chest broad and warm against your naked shoulderblades, arms coming around your body so that he can cup your breasts in his large hands; his palms cover so much of your skin, your sensitive nipples, and you gasp at the shock of sensation that shoots through you as he drags his hands over them before using his fingers to pinch the hardened nubs. You twist your head and make a little noise, and Namjoon obliges you with a kiss, grinning against your mouth with each desperate sound he muffles with his plush lips.

Eventually, though, he pulls away from you. You glance over your shoulder to see that he’s gotten to his knees, still staring at your soaking core, before he hooks one of his thumbs into the fabric covering your aching pussy and pulls it aside before pressing his mouth against you.

“Oh, fuck!” Your body goes weak and you slump forwards onto your elbows and shove your face into the bed, and Namjoon follows when this moves you away from him, tongue buried in your cunt as he eats you out with no mercy. He’s utterly shameless, noises slick and lewd as he drags his wet tongue over your entrance and clit, swallowing down all the arousal that’s leaking out of you, ravenous. You reach behind you with one of your hands to grip his hair, and when you grind back against his face he lets out a satisfied hum; you gasp at the vibrations against your lower lips, oversensitive from all your edging.

“Gonna cum,” you say, twisting your head so that your cheek is pressed to your rumpled blanket. “I’m so close, oh, God, Namjoon-”

He’s been rubbing his tongue up and down your clit in a particularly sinful way, and after one more particularly hard stroke, you finally, finally reach that precipice you’ve been reaching for all day. You shove your face back into the blanket as you cum, all your gasps and moans coming together in one long cry as your toes curl and you tighten your fingers so hard into your sheets you almost pull them off the mattress. Your entire body trembles as your cunt pulsates with pleasure, each ripple of your pussy feeling like it’s passing through your whole body, and Namjoon doesn’t let up for a second, lapping down each wave of cum that flushes out of you. You feel utterly weak as you flop forwards against the mattress, boneless and shaky, but Namjoon’s mouth is still on you and you let out a whimper, oversensitive.

“It’s too much,” you gasp. “Namjoon-”

He takes his mouth off you immediately. “Sorry, baby,” he apologises, pressing a kiss against the swell of your ass. You want to sag your lower body against the bed but his hands are keeping you up, fingers digging into the soft skin of your ass and hips. “You just taste so good. Can you lie down for me?”

“Yes,” you say into the blanket, your voice a muffled slur. You’re so eager to please him even though you feel so weak from your post orgasm haze, and your muscles feel like jelly as you try to lift yourself onto the bed. Namjoon obviously notices how fucked out you are because he helps flip you over so that you’re on your back, staring up at him.

You continue to stare at him as he sheds his clothes. You let your gaze shamelessly rove over his body as it’s revealed- the honeyed tone of his skin, the muscles that shift underneath it, his shoulders, his arms, his chest, the long legs, the thick thighs, the trail of hair that dips down to his-

“Holy fuck.” Your voice is reedy with desperation, and Namjoon laughs.

His cock has to be the biggest you’ve seen in real life, long and thick, fully erect even though you haven’t touched it yet- the fact that you’re apparently arousing enough to bring him to full hardness is flattering, honestly. Even as you stare at it, it twitches, a dribble of precum oozing from the flushed head, almost an angry red from neglect. You watch, enraptured, as he circles his fingers around it; it doesn’t look any smaller in his large hands. He pulls on his cock, long and slow, before he spits onto it and fucks into his fist as you watch him, spreading the wetness over himself.

“Gonna fill that hungry little pussy with this cock,” he says. “Gonna give you a reward for being such a good girl. Is that what you want?” Namjoon watches you as he thumbs at his slit, precum weeping from his tip. “Does my good girl want this cock?”

“I want it,” you beg. You do, you want it so bad. His mouth and lips and tongue felt so good but it must be nothing in comparison to how good it’ll feel to be filled up  by Namjoon’s heavy, long cock. “Fuck, Namjoon, please, I want it.”

You lift your hips so that Namjoon can slide your panties off you. He stares at the strings of wetness that cling to them as he peels them away from your core, finally bare to the cool air of the room, and you suck in a breath. He wastes no time, climbing onto the bed and settling above you, cock swaying between his legs before he grasps it and tilts it towards your entrance. 

You lift your hips again, tilting them towards him for an easier angle- and immediately cry out when he broaches you, head pressing past your entrance. You’re so turned on and flushed wet that the initial slide in is easy, but as he gets deeper and deeper you can feel the stretch, your pussy forced open for him, feeling like you’re being split open with how big he is- you’ll feel the burn tomorrow, but right now your body is ripe and ready for him to take you, cunt clenching as he bottoms out in you. You experimentally tense your muscles and the two of you gasp in a breath, shocked pleasure at the sensation.

“Fuck, baby,” Namjoon groans. “You feel so good.”

He holds still for a moment to let you adjust, leaning down to kiss you. It’s deep and slow, tongue swiping into your mouth as you part your lips for him and let him take what he wants. When he leans back, all that softness is gone- your legs fall apart as he starts to fuck you, hips snapping forward as he ruthlessly presses his cock into you. He’s so big and he’s striking so deep it feels like you can feel him in your stomach, and you arch your back into him and cry out each time he strikes home.

The pace he sets is rough and aggressive, the slap of skin against skin and wet noises from his cock driving into your pussy filling the silence of the room, every part of you hypersensitive to every sensation- Namjoon’s weight pressing you into the mattress, the shaking bed, the rising smell of sweat and sex, the firmness of his hands on you. He leans back and you catch a glimpse of his hungry eyes before he puts his hands under your knees and hitches your legs up so that you’re practically bent in half when he fucks into you again- you cry out at the change of angle, how this lets him splay his large hand over the line of your hipbone as he starts to rub his thumb across your clit, continuing to fuck into the whole time.

“Gonna c-cum again,” you hiccup between thrusts, the air punched out of you each time that hot cock spears into you. “Joonie, gonna- gonna cum aga- oh!”

Your spine arches as your orgasm rips through you, coil of pleasure exploding like a firework as you cum for the second time that day, walls tensing around Namjoon’s cock; he continues to thrust into you, even when your cunt clenches so tight it feels like there’s no space inside you for his length. He keeps forcing your body open for him even as you keep falling apart around him, and you keep taking it, loving it. The only thing you can register is the delirious, mind-numbing satisfaction, sobbing out as Namjoon’s cock continues to fill you- you feel like he’s fucked you dumb, like your body was only made to be fucked by him, sloppy and open and wet. Each time he fills you up again it forces a noise from your throat, sounds of almost animalistic pleasure spilling from your lips, all semblance of coherent words gone.

When Namjoon pulls out of you, even though your body feels weak and limp and entirely fucked out, you whine at the loss. The next second, though, he flips you over, nudging your ankles apart before sliding back into you. The change of angle has him dragging against your sweet spot, balls slapping against your clit, overwhelming off the heels of just cumming, but you just take it, drooling into the pillow as your brain gives over to the all-consuming pleasure.

“So pretty when you cum around my cock.” Namjoon’s bent over you, murmuring praises that you barely register as he litters kisses over your shoulders and the side of your throat. “Greedy little pussy takes my cock so well. Such a good girl for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Wanna be a good girl for you.” Your words are a slur, your brain foggy but eager to please, answering the question. “Joonie.”

“Gonna fill you up so good,” he says, lips pressed against your ear as he whispers filth to you, still mercilessly fucking into you. “Gonna fill this pretty little pussy with my cum. Do you want my cum, baby?”

“Wan’ it,” you moan. There’s heat curling in your abdomen again, pussy tightening as another orgasm creeps up on you, the promise of Namjoon’s hot cum filling you pulling you closer to the edge. “Want your cum, Joonie.”

His fingers tighten around your waist as he starts to jackhammer into you. His cock feels like it’s splitting you open even as his rhythm starts to falter, and after one particularly hard thrust your eyes roll back in your head as you tumble over the edge again, cumming so hard it’s a wonder you don’t pass out. You let out a strangled moan and Namjoon curses as you tighten around him, your entire body trembling under his hands as you give yourself over to the waves of pleasure crashing through you. 

His rhythm falters before he lets out a shout and his cock jerks inside you as your tightening cunt pulls him into climax. Hot cum fills your pussy as he empties himself inside you, aftershocks of your orgasm drawing his seed deeper, painting your insides. You lie there and take it, face turned into the pillow as you focus on the sensation of his twitching cock, the way your body is milking him even in your exhaustion, like it’s desperate to satisfy him even when you can barely speak.

You shiver when you feel him slowly pull out. He’s stroking his hands over your skin, kissing your shoulder blades and nape as he turns you over, gentle as he touches you. “You did so well,” Namjoon praises, smiling at you. “So good for me.”

You still feel fuzzy but you latch onto Namjoon’s words as he kisses you on your forehead, your cheeks, your nose. Words seem so hard to string together right now but you try your best, voice small and weak. “Did good?”

“Absolutely perfect, baby,” Namjoon says, and you let out a happy sigh. You stay quiet while Namjoon slips out of your bed before returning with a damp cloth. You let your muscles go entirely lax as Namjoon rolls you onto your back and gently spreads your legs; he watches as his own cum drips out of you before he gently swipes the mix of cum that’s smeared across your pussy, mindful of your sensitive clit. You bask in his touch, feeling like a cat bathing in sunlight as he cleans you up, stroking his hands across your skin.

He gathers you in his arms and continues to murmur praises between kisses and touches. You slowly come back to yourself as he keeps lavishing attention on you, skin warm against his, turning into his touch as your brain starts to flicker back on. 

Namjoon brushes his lips against your forehead as your higher thought processes continue to fall back into place, although you’re still a little hazy. “You okay, sweetheart?” 

“Yeah.” You feel thoroughly fucked out after three back-to-back orgasms and your pussy feels raw and you’re not sure when you’ll next be able to walk in a straight line, but none of those things detract from how fabulous you feel right now. “More than okay. Wow. When I said I wanted you to wreck me, I didn’t realise you’d do such a good job.”

Namjoon smiles at you, and you finally get to indulge yourself, lifting a hand to stroke a finger across his dimples that deepen as you touch them. “I’m always happy to oblige,” he says, and you grin as you brush your nose across his neck, nuzzling into him.

“You really are the best neighbour,” you say. “Did you seriously come over to give me a bunch of hand picked strawberries? That’s what that bag was, right?”

“Of course.” Namjoon’s fingers continue to rub circles into your shoulder. “I thought you deserved a nice treat after a day of chores.”

“Oh, I feel very thoroughly rewarded,” you giggle, before pulling your head back to look Namjoon in the eye. “God. I was so mortified at the beginning, though. I seriously thought I was going to have to pack my bags and move away.”

“The strawberries wouldn’t be enough to persuade you to stay?” Namjoon strokes his knuckles down your cheek before resting his thumb under the swell of your bottom lip, pushing up a little so it looks like you’re pouting at him. “After I spent all afternoon picking them and thinking about you, and how lovely you’d look while you ate them with this pretty little mouth of yours?”

You relax into his touch, letting him rub the pad of his thumb over your lip, all but kissing his finger each time your mouth shapes itself around another word. “You think about me?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Namjoon says, stroking over your lip one last time before cupping your chin in his palm.  “I don’t genuinely lose my keys as often as you think I do. Though I do still lose them a lot,” he adds, a little sheepish, and you laugh.

“So you’re saying that if I give you a spare key to my flat, I should have back-ups on hand just in case?” You tease, leaning into the hand that’s cradling your chin. “Good to know.”

“A spare key?” Namjoon looks a little taken aback, and you blink at him.

“Yeah,” you say, like it’s obvious. “Y’know, unless you want me to go back to using the tumble dryer.”

The hand that’s been on your shoulder tightens a little as Namjoon digs his fingers into your skin, possessive. That part of you that’s gone belly up for him preens at the attention, still eager to please him and make him happy, loving the sensation of being so desired by someone who you thought was out of your reach. “No.” Namjoon’s voice is a rumble in his chest. “I’ll make you cum whenever you want, sweetheart.”

“Mm.” You hum quietly before kissing his cheek, and then Namjoon uses the hand under your chin to turn you towards him and presses his mouth softly to yours. “You might regret saying that. I’m very demanding. Starting with this- do you want to go get those strawberries so I can have a taste?” You flutter your lashes at him, and Namjoon chuckles as he indulges you. 

You watch the flex of muscles in his thighs and ass as he walks from the room, still in a bit of disbelief that you’ve touched him and kissed him and been so thoroughly fucked by him. Kim Namjoon is a ten course meal (not including drinks or dessert) but here he is, naked on your bed as he feeds you the sweet, ripe strawberries that he picked with his own hands, kissing the taste off your lips between each bite.

You feel utterly pampered and taken care of, reclining against the pillows as Namjoon feeds you another strawberry. You reach out for the largest you can see and return the favour, letting him lick the sweetness off your stained fingers and giggling at the sensation. 

“The dryer’s finished its cycle, by the way,” Namjoon says after he’s finished kissing your fingertips.

“That’s nice,” you say as you carefully pick out another strawberry and rest it against the dark red flush of Namjoon’s lips. “But I’m busy feeding the world’s most beautiful man right now, so it can wait.”

Namjoon smiles at you, eyes lovely and warm as he parts his lips to accept the fruit, before leaning down to press his berry stained mouth against your own.

[chockfullofsecrets]

Critical Role: Don’t You Know?

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: Clarabelle just giggles, revealing a little gap between her two front teeth. “What?” she asks. “Don’t you know? Caduceus never starts tickle fights, he knows he’s gonna lose!”

“Belle,” Caduceus says loudly, “maybe you should go check on the tea-”

Beau likes to think she has a good sense for potentially incriminating information, and right now it’s pinging off the fucking walls. “No, no, no, tell me more.”

Wordcount: 3.7k

A/N: fill for this anon prompt! and for a bunch of people who want to see poor Cad get absolutely wrecked, apparently XD 

spoilers for C2E92 and C2E96 - and a little side note that i may have forgotten the timing of certain Greater Restorations while planning this fic, so let's just pretend that the clerics had two more of them to cast that day 🤦

---

Beau doesn’t like feeling jealous. It’s not a frequent feeling, around the Nein, since they’re all pretty much the same level of fucked up, but watching Caduceus and his siblings sit in amiable silence as they work through prepping whatever grows around here that passes for dinner is starting to get to her.

Maybe it’s just too soon, after going back home to Kamordah. She’s fine, or she will be - she loves her friends and they love her and her parents don’t and that’s fine, but -

She grits her teeth. All she has to do is sit here in this corner and wait for Caduceus’ mom to finish making tea in the other room, and then she can take it and run and leave this happy little family tableau to their own devices. She’s got a bottle of wine and access to a trickster cleric, it’s not going to be that hard to have a good evening.

She’s still mulling over what kind of pranks she can play in a petrified temple when the littlest Clay - who’s still a good head taller than her, because fucking firbolgs - finishes scraping the peel off the last unidentified vegetable in her stack and drops her knife with a bright little clank as she turns to her brother. There’s no way Caduceus hasn’t noticed that for every one she’s done herself she’s snuck another into his pile, but Beau’s not going to be the one to rat her out. “Okay, I’m done, lemme look at your hair! I bet I can fix it, I have all my dyeing stuff with me.”

Caduceus eyes his own pile and, very slowly, starts pushing it in his older sister’s direction. Beau chokes back a snort.

Said sister’s eyes narrow. “No!”

The little one pouts at both of them. “But Calliope, look at him, he needs help!”

Big sister - Calliope - takes advantage of the little circle the three of them are sitting in to shove both of their shoulders simultaneously. “No. If you two are taking a break, then so am I!”

Caduceus rumbles out a laugh, already starting to undo his braid. “Sure, but you’re explaining why we’re not done to Mom.”

It’s a low move. Beau approves entirely.

Calliope scoffs and tosses her paring knife in his direction handle-first, laughing herself when he yelps and dodges. “Oh, we’ll see who’s doing the explaining.”

She’s smiling, though, as she gets up and stretches. Beau takes one look at her insanely toned arms and has to swallow convulsively to get her saliva flowing again.

As she wanders off, Caduceus shakes the last of his hair loose and flops the whole pink mass over onto his face. “Don’t pull too hard, Clarabelle, it’s pretty fragile right now.”

“I’m not a baby, Caduceus,” Clarabelle snarks, and promptly climbs halfway into his lap to bury her hands in it and start bemoaning the state of his roots.

The quip slips out of Beau’s mouth reflexively. “You know he’s just luring you in so he can tickle you, right?”

It’s kind of their thing, her and Caduceus, whenever one of their group is standing anywhere in his vicinity and his hands are free. The reactions are great - the warning makes Jester bounce excitedly, Fjord and Caleb go all red and sputtery, Yasha look up in quiet anticipation - fuckin’ adorable, by the way - and Nott threaten to kill them all as she darts away.

And if she’s a little too invested in the way Caduceus huffs and throws her a quiet little smile before reeling his victim in, like they’ve got an inside joke that’s just for the two of them - well, that’s just an unexpected benefit of the chaos.

Today, though, two pink heads snap in her direction. Caduceus makes a panicked little sound, barely audible under all the floof, and isn’t that interesting.

Clarabelle just giggles, revealing a little gap between her two front teeth. “What?” she asks. “Don’t you know? Caduceus never starts tickle fights, he knows he’s gonna lose!”

“Belle,” Caduceus says loudly, “maybe you should go check on the tea-”

Beau likes to think she has a good sense for potentially incriminating information, and right now it’s pinging off the fucking walls. “No, no, no, tell me more.”

Clarabelle beams. “Calliope!” she yells. “C’mere, we have to tickle Caduceus!”

Caduceus’ ears shoot up in obvious alarm. He lunges forward and makes a decent attempt at smothering her through all the hair in his way, but Calliope’s already turning around.

Beau shivers - apparently the smug Caduceus look is genetic. “Did I hear that right, Belle? Caduceus has been going out and starting tickle fights?”

Caduceus lets go of his sister and gets halfway up before Clarabelle tackles him with a war cry. They’re wrestling on the ground, lanky limbs everywhere and absolutely terrible form, by the time Calliope lopes over.

She reaches in with one hand and hauls her seven-foot-tall brother up into a sitting position by the collar of his shirt - fuck, that’s hot. Beau firmly suppresses the urge to fidget as Calliope tugs one of Caduceus’ arms up over his head and yanks his sleeve down to his elbow. “Well, Caduceus? Got anything to say for yourself?”

Caduceus actually whines. It takes serious effort not to gape in shock. “I didn’t do anyth-ING-NO-”

His protests dissolve into near-silent squeaks as Calliope starts to tickle his - hands? Beau watches closely as she drags her fingertips up his forearm, fluttering them lightly in the crease of his elbow, and commits the technique to memory.

Caduceus’ helpless grin is wider than she’s ever seen it. He braces his feet on the floor and tries to twist free, elbows akimbo. “Calliope! Stohop it, I’m - heh - I’m not-”

She snorts. “Not a chance, we’ve got - how many years has it been again?”

“Two hundred!” Belle chirps, and dives in to worry at the backs of Caduceus’ ears with blunt fingernails. The trembling, stuttery sounds he’s making jump an octave as he frantically shakes his head from side to side.

“Ten,” he snickers. “Belle - heeeh, hehe - cut it out, I’m - mmm! - I’m serious, come ohohon-”

Clarabelle turns back to Beau. “See?”

Oh, Beau sees. She’s gonna get so much mileage out of this.

Caduceus looks over at her too, eyebrows furrowing, but Calliope’s already talking over the both of them. “Well, that’s a lot of years to catch up on, I’d better pull out the big guns.”

Caduceus’ eyes widen. Beau decides to help the panic along and mouths big guns? in his direction, slipping her notebook out and opening it to a fresh page.

Caduceus yelps and throws himself forward with alacrity she’s never seen from him, ripping his arm from Calliope’s grip and nearly scrambling past Clarabelle before his big sister takes a step forward and scoops him up under the arms. “Nice try,” she tells him. “Might have worked, if you weren’t so scrawny.”

She drops him on top of Clarabelle. “Hey!”

“Sorry, Belle, you gotta stay out of the way!”

“No, I’m helping!” she insists, and dutifully wrestles her way on top of Caduceus to start tickling his ears again.

Caduceus wheezes and curls into a ball, trying fruitlessly to shove her away. “Belle - Belle!-”

“Let’s see, let’s see…” Calliope muses, crouching down and plucking a booted foot from the pile of limbs. “Legs?”

She grabs Caduceus’ calf and squeezes it like a piece of dead meat. He squeals. “Yep, still ticklish.”

Caduceus kicks her in the knee with his other leg and she staggers back for a moment before surging forward to grab at his hips. “Ow! Oh, now you’re in for it.”

He can’t do anything but flail as she wrestles him onto his back and urges Clarabelle to sit on his belly to keep him pinned. “Nonono! M’sorry - eheheeeeh, Belle, stoppit! - I’m sohohorry! Don’t!”

There’s a pause. Beau leans forward, half excited and half trying to sense genuine distress. She’s never heard Caduceus plead like this - not her fault, the fucker has apparently been hiding his ticklish spots for months, but it’s not like she wouldn’t be willing to jump in and save him.

And maybe she wants to see what Calliope’s arms can do up close. Maybe.

Calliope adjusts her grip on him and smirks. “Heh. No, I think I’m gonna. Belle, you got him?”

“Yep!” she says cheerfully, bare feet planted on each side of his ribcage. Caduceus has managed to press one big palm over her face, keeping her at arm’s length and away from his ears, but she just wriggles her bare toes under him and into the backs of his ribs. “Tickle, tickle, Caduceus!”

Caduceus guffaws and squirms like his life depends on it, but there’s nowhere to go. “Noooo - hahaaaheeh - stop, stop, not my ribs-”

He keeps begging as Calliope levers a hand under his back and starts rooting around for something with a focused expression. She finds it, too - Caduceus screams and arches his back nearly in half as he abandons Clarabelle and grabs desperately for her hands instead. “Pleeeheease! HHAHAH - nonnono - eheaahaaa!”

Beau can’t even see what she’s tickling, but there’s enough potential here to topple a regime. “Fuck,” she whispers. Does this make her the most powerful tickler in the Nein now? Is this what ascending feels like?

She’s surprised that the rest of the Nein haven’t come running yet, with all the noise he’s making. But then again, she and Cad and Caleb are the best at paying attention to their surroundings and Caleb definitely isn’t in a hurry to run towards hysterical laughter.

She doesn’t mean to make any sound herself, but amidst all his struggling Cad’s ears twitch in her direction. “Beau,” he pleads. Shrieks again. “Help mmm-ahahahAA-”

“Hm, who’s that?” Calliope stops tickling, judging from Caduceus’ wheezed relief, and turns to look in her direction. Beau swears that her hair flutter in a nonexistent breeze. “Right, you, the non-important one.”

Beau nearly bites her tongue in despair - why does she have to be such a disaster around every hot woman she meets? “Yep, that’s me.”

Calliope looks at her for a moment, considering. “You look like a fighter. What are you doing all the way over there - you’re not scared of him, are you?”

It’s never been less tempting to confess the time she accidentally hit Cad in the face with some of her weeks-old pocket bacon and he tickled her until she cried. She clears her throat. “Uh, no. No. It looks like you’re doing a pretty good job already, I mean, he’s really-”

Calliope yanks her arm free and uses it to beckon her over. “Eh, come here - Belle, watch it, I’m going to flip him.”

Caduceus squawks in renewed panic as one of his sisters tumbles off him and the other wraps her arms around him and twists him facedown like a wrestling move from the back-alley brawls Beau used to sneak into as a teenager - and, once again, hot.

She swallows again and strolls over as casually as she can while Calliope pins him across the shoulders with her forearm. “Riiight - here.”

She doesn’t even touch, just points to the backs of Caduceus’ thighs, but he obviously knows where she’s leading. “Beau, no,” he yelps.

He tries to pull his legs up beneath him. Beau automatically grabs him just under the knees and drags him out flat. “Hey, hey, where do you think you’re going?”

Calliope raises an approving eyebrow. Beau tries not to blush. “It’s his worst spot - he’s ticklish there if you so much as look at him wrong.”

“We chased him up a tree once,” Clarabelle pipes up. She’s tap-tap-tapping blunt fingernails across Caduceus’ back, sending him shivering. “He stayed up there all night until Dad went to get him.”

“Beau, don’t,” Cad rasps. She’s heard him sound perkier seconds after coming back from the dead. He’s laughing still, quietly, and it sounds somewhere between the lava of the volcano forge they stayed in once and Frumpkin’s rusty purrs.

“Not so fun when you’re the one doing the begging, huh,” Beau tells him. She flicks him, once, in the back of the leg and looks incredulously at his siblings. “So you’re telling me his absolute worst spot… is his fucking butt?”

Calliope shrugs. “He’s so weird, isn’t he?”

All three of them laugh at that, even Caduceus, so Beau figures it’s all right. “Yeah, we’ve noticed. We’re all weird though, it’s kind of our thing.”

“Sure,” Calliope says. “He’s weird and ticklish, though, so if I wanna pin him down and get all his worst spots then he’s just gonna have to deal with it-”

Caduceus peels his face off the ground and gasps out a few strangled syllables that reverberate in the warm air.

Both of his sisters shriek as their eyes fill with black ichor. “Caduceus!” Calliope yells, letting go of him and grabbing for her face with one hand and her holy symbol with the other. “What did you do?”

Caduceus props himself up on his elbows, panting. “Oh, it’s just something I picked up,” he tells her smugly. “Don’t worry, it’ll wear off.”

“After how long,” Calliope growls.

Clarabelle giggles, still draped over Caduceus’ back. “Oh, this feels weird!”

He laughs and starts to crawl out from under them, but Beau’s not done with him yet. Mercifully un-blinded, she snags him around the knees again. “Wow, usually you’re the one telling us not to be mean to people.”

Caduceus rolls onto his side and looks sharply back at her, sighing in relief when she holds her hands up in surrender. “Well, I know these people.” He shoves gently at Clarabelle, wriggles a finger into her side when she doesn’t move. She squeaks. “They deserve it.”

He grins down at her, unrepentant and bratty, and Beau can’t help but grin back.

“So are your thighs really that bad?” she asks. “Or-” she jerks her chin over at Calliope, who’s started praying. “-did you just decide to be a jerk all of a sudden? Also, how the fuck did we not know how ticklish you are? You wreck us all the time!”

Caduceus shrugs. “S’easy to get in your heads,” he says. Beau bristles a little at that, but he’s not wrong - Caduceus has this way of looking at them like he’s going to take them apart one way or another, and the tickling is probably the safer route. Doesn’t hurt that they can always trust him to set them right after, either.

“And they’ll get me eventually, might as well have some fun with it.” He fixes Beau with a stern look. “Now you, on the other hand-”

She interrupts him. “Hey Cad, how long’s that spell supposed to last?”

He blinks. “A minute, why?”

Beau points wordlessly over his shoulder at a clear-eyed Calliope. “Uh.”

Caduceus twists around. “Oh, dear.”

That’s all he has time for before Calliope grabs his shoulders and twists him facefirst back into the ground. “You know,” she tells him, “I was going to go easy on you. Was. You’re lucky I’m not calling Colton in here.”

“That’s ‘cause Colton’s a jerk,” Caduceus says, muffled and remarkably calm.

“So are you, apparently,” Calliope retorts. She forms a vibrating claw with one hand and digs it into his spine, and Caduceus shrieks. “You can’t just blind people!”

“I’m telling Mom and Dad!” Clarabelle agrees, wiping one last black tear from her eye and lunging back in to knead mercilessly at the backs of Caduceus’ ribs.

Caduceus shrieks again, kicking helplessly, and tumbles straight back into hysterical laughter. “Come - hahaAAA - come on!”

Beau’s fairly sure that he’s going to hurt himself if she jumps in, but Calliope looks breathlessly over at her and grins with a bloodthirsty look that Beau recognizes all too well. She usually saves it for enemies, though, or Caleb if he’s being particularly insufferable. “Is that what he does to you guys too? Go on, get some revenge!”

And well, put like that…

It takes a bit of effort to pin one of Caduceus’ flailing legs, especially when he catches wind of what she’s doing and starts kicking even more frantically. “Hold fucking still,” she yells.

Caduceus is losing it, less put together than she’s ever heard him. “I cahahan’t!”

Beau jams the ball of her thumb into the nerve cluster just above his knee until his leg goes dead. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“What was that?” Clarabelle says, sounding delighted. “Can I learn how to do that, Callie?”

Beau ignores her, focusing in on her prey. “Let’s see, how many apologies am I looking for?” She’s pretty sure she deserves every single time that Caduceus has tickled her to pieces, but the opportunity to tease Caduceus the way he does with them is too good to pass up. “I’ve lost count at this point, guess we’ll just start the ball rolling and see what happens.”

She squeezes mercilessly at the back of his thigh, making sure he can feel it through his homespun trousers, and he laughs a bit louder and squirms as best as he can, but it’s not enough-

“Huh,” she says, trying to channel Caduceus, and watches his sisters dig into his back for a moment. Something something destiny, calm, balance-

Oh. She grins and spiders her fingers ever so lightly over the vulnerable spot, and Caduceus howls.

Beau settles in, satisfied, and keeps spidering until he’s thrashing and laughing too hard to get more than a couple broken words out. He’s not anywhere near out of breath, not yet, so she figures they’ve got at least a couple more minutes of squeaking, ticklish Caduceus and she’s going to enjoy every single one of them.

“Oh, dear,” someone says, unexpectedly close. Beau whips around to see Caduceus’ mom, holding a whole tray of mismatched teacups and looking like she’s desperately trying not to laugh.

Caduceus’ ears twitch. “MOM,” he wails. “SAVE ME, I’M GONNA DIE.”

She does laugh then, a little misty-eyed, and juggles the tray so she can prop a hand on her hip. “Calliope, Clarabelle, be nice to your brother,” she chides. “He came a long way to find us.”

“But he blinded us!” Clarabelle tattles, painfully earnest even as she grins from ear to ear. “He hasn’t even said sorry yet!”

“Clarabelle Clay.”

Beau’s spine locks up in instant parental-dissatisfaction panic, but Clarabelle just laughs and echoes back “Mo-oom,” before moving her hands and sprawling forward onto her brother. Calliope stops too, with one last dig into his back that inspires a final agonized wiggle, and sits back on her hands triumphantly as Caduceus wheezes and scrambles up to safety.

Beau rocks to her feet, sticking her hands in her pockets, and takes in the full glory of a seven-foot-tall firbolg doing his level best to hide behind his mother. Clarabelle and Calliope get up too and grab their tea, the former sticking her tongue out as Caduceus peeks at her with narrowed eyes.

“If you two are done,” Caduceus’ mom says firmly, “it looks like there are still vegetables that need attending to.”

“Oh, yeah,” Calliope says, and fixes Clarabelle with a look.

“Yeah!” Clarabelle echoes, looking innocently back.

She yelps as Calliope drags her away. Beau shuffles her feet for a moment as Caduceus’ mom turns to her. “Uh - if some of those are for us, I can take them - I know you guys probably want your time alone-”

Caduceus ducks a little further down, and his mom laughs again. “Oh, dear, you can stay as long as you like, but these will be better hot.”

“Got it.” Beau smirks up at Caduceus. “I have to go talk to Jester, anyway.”

She grabs the tray and speed-walks back across the room, barely hearing Caduceus’ hurried “I’ll go help her” before his heavier footsteps echo behind. If it were Fjord or Caleb she’d channel her ki to beat him handily back to the others, but, well - he doesn’t deserve it, really.

He’s walking fast, anyway - once she slows down, it’s only a couple seconds before she can feel his warm presence at her side.

He holds a hand out for the tray. “Don’t tell them.”

Beau looks at him then, still smug, and grimaces. “Oh, Duceus, you’ve got something on your face.”

He makes a face and wipes at his running nose with his sleeve, still trying to catch his breath. “Don’t tell them,” he says again. “I mean, they’ll find out eventually, and none of you are as mean as Calliope so it’ll be okay, but - please.”

She pretends to think it over. “I don’t know, I think your sister’s kind of great.”

Caduceus sighs heavily. “I’m not surprised.”

“I won’t tell them.” She does reach over to nudge at his spine though, expertly balancing the tray, and laughs as he squirms away from her. “You have to… make tea for me every night though. For a week.”

Caduceus blinked. “I already do that, you asked me to.”

“Which is exactly why I’m not gonna rat you out, Caduceus. You’re just a little bit less of an asshole than the rest of us.”

Caduceus looks - surprisingly pleased, at that. Beau tells herself it’s more about the prospect of not having Jester try to jump him every morning than her approval. “I appreciate it.”

Beau hands the tray over and crosses her arms, looking up at him. “You don’t really mind though, do you? Seems weird that you’d keep getting all of us, if you did.”

He shrugs. “I don’t, it’s just- it’s different around family. They already know everything about me.”

That jealousy sneaks out onto her tongue, quick and bitter, before she realizes it. “Well, I wouldn’t know.”

Beau looks away then, speeding up to get ahead of him. She manages to take a single step before something tickles at the back of her armpit and she nearly drops all of her stuff.

She curses and whirls around. “Caduceus!”

He looks evenly back at her. “Yeah, you would.”

It takes a second to connect the conversational thread, but she can’t help but smile once she does. “Thanks, Caduceus.”

He smiles back. “You’re welcome.”

“Deal’s off though,” she quips, and before he can react she’s sprinting down the hallway as fast as she can.

She’s not going to tell on him, but for tickling her? He’s gonna have to chase her down if he wants to make sure.

[queen-scribbles]

The Long Burning Torch ch 3

Oh, look, another chapter for the 20s AU I started for the @shepherds-of-haven Summer Event, which has taken on a life of its own. In this chapter: A couple new (but familiar!) faces, and the plot thickens.

----

Five minutes into Ashtown proper, Xaeryn was exceedingly grateful for the directions Mr. Syndran had provided. He hadn’t been wrong comparing the place to a warren.

“You look lost, doll.”

Her head snapped up from the paper in her hand to meet the gaze of a lanky man lounging against a wall, a soft cap slouched down over his forehead. His--very familiar--green eyes were much more vivid in person than they had been in her scry.

Xaeryn arched a brow coolly. “And what led you to that conclusion?”

He smirked and pushed away from the wall. “The way you keep checking that paper for one, Sunshine.” His hands slid in his pockets. “Also, we don’t get dames that look like you here all that often. Anything I can help you find?”

“You’re awfully helpful,” Xaeryn said, resisting the urge to run a hand down her outfit.

He doffed his cap and sketched an exaggerated bow, giving her a wink when he righted. “Consider me the Ashtown welcoming committee.”

“And what a charming first impression you make.” Xaeryn regarded him for a moment or two more, then decided to see how things would play out. “I’m trying to find Chase Trinaeste.”

The man’s eyes twinkled, bright as the scarf tossed ‘round his neck. “I think I can help with that. Right this was, Sunshine,” he said blithely, as if he wasn’t the aforementioned Trinaeste himself.

A large part of Mr. Syndran’s adamant belief Thieves guild had been involved in the theft rode on Trinaeste’s presence in her scryed vision. “He trusts his lieutenants with the vast majority of their... jobs,” Mr. Syndran had explained, nose wrinkling slightly in distaste.  “His being there shows it was a heist of high importance to their gang, fitting the theft of an artefact.” 

Xaeryn had no reason to doubt his logic. But she’d be a fool to show all the cards she held at the outset.

“My name is not ‘sunshine’,” she said briskly instead.

“Well, then, doll, what am I calling ya?” Trinaeste asked, unruffled by her tone.

“Miss Shrike will do for now, I think. And what do I call you?”

“Who says you need to call me anything?” he returned as he led her down several new streets in quick succession.

“It might come in handy if I want to commend your hospitality to Mr. Trinaeste,” she countered, trying her best to memorize their route. Left, left, right...

“I’ll get by, Miss Shrike,” Trinaeste said with a light laugh.

He was very good at dodging, she did have to give him that. “For politeness’ sake, then. Perhaps I’d feel better about following you into the depths of Ashtown if I at least knew your name.”

He laughed again, pausing by a wall decorated with a... creative interpretation of a cat’s head. “Well, then. I have a confession to make, in that case.”

“Oh?” Xaeryn marked the two brunos nearby--one down an alley, the other lounging by a door--despite their affected nonchalance. “And what would that be?”

“Chase Trinaeste at your service.” He skipped the exaggerated bow this time, instead shoving his hands in his pockets, elbows akimbo, and grinning at her cheekily. “Now that you’ve found me, what do you plan to do with me?”

“First thing that comes to mind is ask why we couldn’t have the introductions back where we first spoke?”

“Let’s say I feel safer on home turf, doll. Just in case your reason for wanting me is less fun than I’m hoping.”

She glanced significantly at one of the toughs. “And if this arrangement doesn’t thrill me?”

“You can leave,” Trinaeste said with a shrug. “We ain’t going to stop you.” His grin widened, cat-like. “But you seem the type who doesn’t like leaving empty-handed, Miss Shrike.” He gestured toward the door next to one member of their small audience. “Whatever it is you’re after, I think we’ll be more comfortable in my office, don’t you?”

She doubted he cared between the two locations as strongly as she doubted it was an actual office, but Xaeryn did have to admit some privacy for this conversation would be a good thing. “Do I strike you as the type to just follow strange men into unfamiliar buildings, Mr. Trinaeste?”

He laughed. “A dangerous question, doll. You strike strike me as the type who enjoys a good mystery.”

(Or even a bad one, Xaeryn finished wryly to herself.)

Trinaeste raised his hands in a gesture of innocence. “On my honor as head of the guild, I promise you will leave in the same condition and carrying the same things as when you got here, so long as you don’t threaten me or mine.”

“A fair deal,” she said in assent, and nodded toward the door. “After you.”

Red would have a heart attack if he knew what she was doing. She swallowed a laugh at the thought; less than a week reconnected and his reaction was one of the first things to cross her mind. Her gut said it would be a worthwhile risk. While Trinaeste was indisputably a dangerous man, there was a clear sense of ‘only when necessary’ to his skill that gave her confidence she would be fine.

“One more condition,” Trinaeste said as he led the way into the building. “Call me Chase. No idea who ‘Mr. Trinaeste’ is, but he sounds too high-class to be me.”

He’d kowtowed to her chosen address easily enough, and she did want him amenable to talking. She could grin and bear the informality for one conversation. “Very well.”

They didn’t go far from the outer door before Chase swung to the side through another doorway. Xaeryn almost tripped over the abruptness as she followed. There was no desk, or any other typical office furniture save chairs. There were five of those; loosely grouped on one side of the room. Opposite them a stack of shipping crates were shoved against a tapestry-hung wall. It was eclectic and flamboyant and (she’d just bet) full of secrets. A perfect match for the man now flopped in one of the fairly-comfortable looking chairs and grinning at her again.

“So, Miss Shrike, what did you want from me?”

(From the way his eyes twinkled, that phrasing was very much on purpose.)

Xaeryn chose her seat and her reply with equal care; the former so she could see both her host and the door, the latter to convey intent without accusing. Yet. “I’m investigating a theft and have reason to believe you may have seen something helpful.”

Chase laughed. “You think I did it.”

“You do helm the Thieves guild, Chase,” she said lightly, crossing her legs and flicking dust off her hem. So much for trying to be subtle.

“Fair point,” he conceded with another laugh, before leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees and his chin on his palms with still-twinkling eyes. “So, what is it you think we stole?”

“An artefact.”

She was interrupted before giving a description as Chase’s grin went cat-like gain and the twinkle in his eyes shifted to a hard glitter. “Syndran set you on us, didn’t he? What did he lose?”

“Mr. Syndran didn’t lose anything. Transit is a possibility for when a piece was stolen,” Xaeryn said primly. “And while, yes, he may have pointed me in your direction as an avenue of investigation, I wouldn’t be much of a detective if I followed accusations that lacked supporting evidence.”

“Ah, you’re a private dick,” Chase smirked, eyes once again twinkling in amusement. “Tell you what, Miss Shrike, since you bein’ here is bountiful evidence Riel’s people not only dropped the ball, but bad enough he doesn’t want to involve the cops, I’ll tell you whatever you need to help. That being the best news I’ve had this week and all.”

She arched a brow. “Whatever I need?”

He spread his hands. “I’m an open book, doll.”

“Chase!” a new voice scolded. The owner, a slender brunette, paused in the doorway to scowl along with her critique. “You know better than to offer open season on guild secrets like that!”

“Calm down, Ari.” Chase slouched back, waving one hand in Xaeryn’s direction. “Our guest seems a smart enough dame to not ask for more than she needs.” That glimpse of danger was back under the last word.

“I’m not after your secrets,” Xaeryn promised. “Just trying to find a missing artefact.”

“And what artefact would that be?” Ari asked, still wary, and still poised in the doorway. Xaeryn noted but didn’t comment on the jangling stack of bracelets that sheathed a good three inches of the other woman’s wrist.

“A pendent, this big.” she indicated the size. “Black stone and bronze.”

“Wasn’t us,” Chase said easily.

“You were witnessed along the transport caravan’ route.”

“Oh, we were casing it,” he acknowledged with a wink.

“Chase!”

He just grinned at Ari’s beratement. “We didn’t steal anything, though. Couldn’t get a good shot at what we were supposed to nick.”

“Supposed to?” Xaeryn interjected. “So this is something you were contracted to steal rather than...” She waffled a moment over word choice, “...personal?”

“Yeah. Like I said, though, we didn’t get anything.” Chase shrugged. “Just as well; our butter and egg man never showed his face after.”

“Hm.” Xaeryn made a mental note to look into how popular a target the caravan had become. “Did you notice anyone else who seemed to be casing it? Aside from your people?”

“N-” Chase’s brow furrowed and he stopped mid-negative reply. “There was that one mug Kato saw right before the trucks made the museum lot. Don’t have anything more than ‘foreign-looking’ and green hair, and he didn’t see where he went, just was a little too casual in his loitering, gave Kato an odd impression.”

It wasn’t a lead solid enough for her to really follow, but it did seem confirmation multiple parties were interested in the caravan. “I see. And what was your... client after?”

“That’s not something you need to know,” Ari said firmly.

“Knowing what else was and might yet be targeted will help my investigation, so I would have to disagree,” Xaeryn said just as firmly. “I’m not going to rat you out, in fact I plan to tell Mr. Syndran you were not responsible. But this information could be useful. Please.”

“A necklace. Gold, rubies, opals; sounded worth a pretty lyss,” Chase said, turning to flash a grin at Ari. “She did say please.”

Ari sighed but didn’t protest.

“Alright I’ll be getting out of your hair, then.” Xaeryn stood, smoothing her skirt. “I appreciate your talking to me, It was enlightening.”

She held out a hand to shake, and Chase kissed the back of it instead, shooting her a wink as she rolled her eyes. “Not a problem, Miss Shrike. Good luck catching your bad guys.”

Xaeryn couldn’t help a small chuckle at the comment as she withdrew her hand and headed for the door. She half-expected to be blocked from exiting, but that proved unfounded. She retraced the route to the edge of the Ashtown district, then headed for her office to call Mr. Syndran just as it started to rain.

---

Her call to update Mr. Syndran went about as well as it could; he was disappointed Thieves guild hadn’t panned out as a lead--Xaeryn detected some personal disappointment as well as professional they weren’t responsible. “Do you have anything beyond their word they didn’t do it?”

“No,” Xaeryn said, leaning forward over her desk to skim her notes as they talked. “Well... their word and a gut feeling they were being level.” Which is all I really have that you aren’t responsible. She was polite--and wise--enough to not make the comparison. “They were hardly going to let me search their warehouse.”

“So what’s your next step? There’s not long until the exhibit opens, and I dislike the number of dead ends you’ve encountered.”

“Oh, I’m not happy about them, either, believe me.” Xaeryn pursed her lips and fought to keep a sharp note out of her voice at his implied censure. “Next is talking to the curator at the Hall. They may have seen this green-haired foreigner Thieves guild mentioned, or something else suspicious that didn’t show when I scryed. Either way, I can get more information about the exhibit and the pendent’s owner.”

Mr. Syndran sighed. “I highly doubt this convenient and vague ‘foreigner’ exists as anything other than a red herring to lead you away from the Thieves guild, but your other goals are sound. Let me know what you learn, if anything.”

“Of course.” They exchanged farewells and hung up. Rain still pattered against the window, and a quiet growl from her stomach reminded Xaeryn she was overdue for lunch, so she bumped back calling the Hall in favor of a quick bite to eat.

And it was quick; she loved mysteries but hated being stymied at every turn like this case had done. She wanted a workable lead. While she agreed with Mr. Syndran the ‘foreigner’ was too vague to pursue on his own, green hair was far from common in Haven, even in the Mage community. If someone else made mention or he was spotted later, it wouldn’t be hard to connect the sightings. For now, she’d call the museum, speak to the curator. Hopefully that would get her somewhere.

The secretary who answered her call sounded both bored and frazzled, which Xaeryn found impressive. “Haven Hall of History and Culture, how may I help you?”

“My name’s Xaeryn Shrike, I wanted to speak to the curator about-”

“Ms. Acquell is very busy,” the receptionist cut her off. “We have an exhibit opening in just over a week, she doesn’t have time for meetings with random curiosity seekers or history aficionados right now.”

Xaeryn let a bit of edge color her voice. “I’m a private detective Mr. Syndran hired in regard to the artefact caravan.”

A long pause, the line crackling with silence, then, “Can you be here in half an hour? I’m sure she can clear some space in her schedule, though there may be  bit of a wait.”

I thought you might say that. “I can. Thank you.”

“Very well.” The secretary hung up.

Xaeryn arched a brow at the receiver before she placed it back in the cradle.  “See you shortly,” she muttered. Wonderful attitude for someone in such a socially involved position. She glanced out the window and was gratified to find the rain slacking off. She’d still drive, of course, but it would be less of a headache.

Xaeryn cleaned up from her lunch, gave her outfit a quick check to ensure it was still presentable after her visit to Ashtown and the Merchants Guild garage, and tucked her notepad back in her handbag before tugging on a hat and heading out the door. 

The drive to the museum was uneventful aside from a couple pot holes and a pedestrian chasing his umbrella into the street with nary a regard for traffic. Still, Xaeryn did arrive in one piece. A determined breeze tugged at her as she made her way up the steps, and she almost dropped her handbag in her instinctive grab to hold her hat on.

It’s pinned, you silly goose, she chided herself ruefully, and brushed drizzle off her clothes as she stepped inside. She exchanged a brief conversation--light on pleasantries--with the receptionist,and was waved toward one of the long cultural wings to wait for when Curator Acquell found a moment to speak with her. She perched on a bench that sat between a statue of the first High Augar and a glass case displaying a map of the known world at the time. At this hour and with this weather, there weren’t many other people, and the gallery was mostly quiet.

Ample opportunity for Xaeryn to ruminate on the irony her chosen seat appeared to be smack in the middle of an exhibit on the Castigation, or one of the uprisings that followed. At least, if the painting across from her was anything to go by; a group of determined Norms gripping pistols as they surrounded a cluster of bloodied but unyielding Hunters whose hands glowed with grace as they clung to their weapons...

Xaeryn shook her head and very deliberately focused on reading her notes.

---

It took half an hour--closer to three-quarters--and Xaeryn had switched to roaming the gallery to take in the sights before a short, bespectacled blonde approached.

She hesitated briefly but noticeably before clearing her throat. “Are you... Miss Shrike?”

Xaeryn nodded and held out a hand to shake. “And you would be the curator?”

The blonde bobbed her head as she shook her hand. “Shery Acquell. I’m so very sorry about the wait.” She smoothed a hand down her rumpled brown and pink dress. “We’re terribly busy trying to get the new exhibit together.” She bit her lip. “Or, as together as we can get it, at least.”

“That’s actually what I’m here to talk to you about,” Xaeryn said. “But I think it’s something better discussed away from potential prying eyes and ears.”

“Oh, right, of course.” Miss Acquell briefly clasped her hands in front of her and bit her lip. “This way.” She gestured to a door. “We can speak in the Cultures of Blest wing if you don’t mind dodging crates and museum staff?”

“Not at all,” Xaeryn said as she followed the other woman through the indicated door. Getting to see behind the scenes of a museum exhibit was the opposite of an inconvenience, to her mind.

“It’s not terribly exciting, I’m afraid; lots of boxes and dust and swapping things around until you find the right arrangement. But I think we can find somewhere to talk. My office is a mess right now, or we could just go there.”

“It’s fine,” Xaeryn assured her. “A little dust won’t kill me. I dress practical for that very reason; no telling where an investigation will take me.”

“OH, that’s... smart.” Miss Acquell fiddled with her glasses and inclined her head toward an empty display pedestal. “That’s where the pendent will go, assuming it’s back before the exhibit opens.” Her face went red and she winced apologetically. “N-Not that I doubt your skill as a detective, Miss Shrike, it just seems to have vanished into thin air, and, well....” She half shrugged and let the words trail off.

“I’ve definitely hit enough dead ends for the comparison to be apt,” Xaeryn said, swallowing the spike of defensiveness to keep her tone level as she peeked at the other artefacts in the case. A belt with a snake-head buckle, a silver circlet set with a single moonstone, an ornately carved hair comb, a silver ring that resembled a basilisk eating its own tail. At least one item hummed quietly with magic of some kind, but enchantment and binding weren’t her forte, so Xaeryn couldn’t tell which. “So, to confirm, how long did the shipment sit before you and your staff started opening crates?”

“Oh, an hour?” Miss Acquell bit her lip. “Maybe two, at most? There was a... small kerfuffle in the art wing; some unruly children, and we didn’t get to the crates until that was settled. But there was a watchman outside and one in the museum, neither of them reported seeing anyone.” She played with her necklace. “As well as a Whitestone Couriers representative. Pink-haired young lady, very irate by the time I spoke to her, though that is understandable, with how long we kept her waiting.”

“Did you not have enough staff for someone to take care of the artefacts while others handled the... disturbance?”

“Normally we would have.” Miss Acquell stepped into a small alcove to move their conversation out of the way for the six or so staffers busily yet carefully removing things from crates to arrange in various displays. “But it was a lightly staffed day--Thursdays are usually slow--and I had a couple people who didn’t come in. We weren’t able to find anyone who could cover their shifts, so we were running a bit short.”

With Ms. Aerin keeping an eye on the artefacts once they reached the museum, it was no wonder Mr. Syndran was so convinced a potential theft would have occurred during transit. “What do you know about the pendent, Solimer’s torch? I’ve learn some things of its history, but what of more recent years? The last century or so?”

“A little,” Miss Acquell said, flicking a nervous glance to the side as a pair of workers fumbled the statue they were shifting. “The last century is a bit... muddy for that pendent. It’s changed hands several times, several people have made claims, few have been able to back them up. The current owner, Ms. Aescar, has the strongest claim. She can trace ancestry to the last known owner of the pendent.”

“Prior to the cheiftain of debated identity with whom it was rediscovered?”

She nodded. “Yes. The others who have tried to stake ownership claim ties to the debated chieftain, or the original tribe, or the first to conquer them, but none have ever clearly proven a connection like Ms. Aescar. And if they could, it turns into a debate predicated largely on the intricacies of right of conquest for who has the strongest claim.” She hesitated, wrung her hands. “There are some in the historical community--niche as this piece may be--who... feel it would almost be better if no further claims are validated. I-If someone can contest Ms. Aescar’s ownership, the pendent has to go in a vault until true provenance can be determined. Which means no one can display it....”

“And that process can take a very long time,” Xaeryn finished for her. It was an issue she’d run into a couple times during her years at Solhadur; an artefact she was researching was hard to get clear information about because three people had equally strong claims and it was tied up in the arbitration.

“Yes, it can.” Miss Acquell pursed her lips and looked back at the intended display. “For now, though, Ms. Aescar has a very open policy for lending it out. Far fewer requested protective measures than most. It’s as if...” she paused, brow furrowing for a moment, “as if she doesn’t really care what happens to it.”

Interesting. “Do you have her contact information? I’d like to speak with her if I could,”

“I do.” Miss Acquell nodded vigorously. “It’s in my office, so I’ll need a minute to dig it out.”

“No hurry,” Xaeryn said. “Are those watchmen here today by any chance? Accommodating as your staff has been with my other earlier inquiries, I haven’t gotten to talk to them yet.”

The curator, who had started for a nearby hall, paused and bit her lip again as she thought. “Theo is,” she finally said. “He was watching the outside lot that day. Today I think he’s in the exhibit on Norm innovation? But I can’t remember for sure. The schedule’s also in my office, I can check while I’m getting Ms. Aescar’s information.”

“Alright, I can wait.”

“Feel free to look around.” Miss Acquell waved a hand toward the progressing displays. “Just don’t touch anything? Some things would survive, but others are too fragile.”

“I generally avoid disturbing museum exhibits,” Xaeryn assured her. “I’ll keep my hands to myself.” 

With a final nod and small nervous smile, Miss Acquell scurried off down the hall. From the way she’d talked about her office, Xaeryn gathered this might take more than a few minutes. She wandered through the half-assembled exhibits and display cases, careful to keep enough distance she didn’t disturb the staff or risk damaging anything.

A small smile curved her lips when she caught sight of a necklace--complete with matching cuff bracelets and a diadem--that fit the description of what Chase claimed his guild had been hired to steal. That backed his story up, at least. There was a placard declaring they had belonged to a Queen-Consort from Karzai once upon a time.

Xaeryn was engrossed in reading a Kettish tablet when Miss Acquell returned, and it took a moment to register her presence. In fact, it wasn’t until the curator cleared her throat timidly that Xaeryn’s focus was broken and she swung around.

“Sorry. This sort of thing is a passion of mine,” she explained. “Very easy to slip off to my own little world when I get a chance to indulge.”

“I understand,” Miss Acquell said with a faint smile. “I can be the same, when I get lost in my work. Here’s Ms. Aescar’s information” --she held out a small piece of note paper--”though I should warn you it’s for her estate out near the Jalis desert and she’s apparently not home much? Bit of an adventuress, away for weeks at a time without word of how long she’ll be gone. I’m honestly not sure if we’ve managed to contact her yet to tell her the pendent’s missing.”

“Thanks for the warning, both of them.” Xaeryn slipped the paper in her handbag after checking the legibility. “I’ll keep them in mind.”

“Theo is up in the innovations exhibit, if you want to speak with him.”

“Oh, I very much do. And if something comes up and I need to talk to you again, do you have daily office hours?”

Miss Acquell nodded, then blushed. “Oh, except... except Sunday,” she amended. “I-I have church.”

“Won’t be a problem, so do I.” Normally not a detail Xaeryn shared with strangers, but the woman seemed braced for blowback to the statement.

Her face lit up with the revelation, so it was apparently a good call. “Oh, really? Where do you go?”

“The Whitestone Cathedral,” Xaeryn said. She liked the crowds, the ability to simply sit in the back, worship, and slip out before too many people even noticed she was there and tried to be chummy.

“Oh, that one’s too big for me,” Miss Acquell blurted with a bashful laugh. “I go to the chapel over by the docks.”

“I know it,” Xaeryn said with a nod. She’d had a couple cases over that way.  “Thank you very much for all your help, Miss Acquell. This visit has been very informative.”

“I’m glad to have been of help, and you can just call me Shery.” She held out a hand to shake farewell.

“Goodbye, then, Shery. And good luck setting up your exhibit.” Xaeryn shook her hand then headed off following signage toward the exhibit where this guard Theo was posted. She had some rather burning questions to ask him.

---

Her conversation with Theo held mixed success. His memory was fuzzy, which Xaeryn had expected after the time that had passed. He did remember some loiterers, but they were all far enough away from the lot he couldn’t discern features. One or two may have come across as “too casual” with hindsight, but he hadn’t clocked them as suspicious and thus hadn’t paid much mind in the moment. No accounting for street hooligans and how they spent their time, right? One might have had green hair, but they were wearing hats, and “like I said, I wasn’t payin’ much heed, Miss Lady Detective,” so he couldn’t swear by it.

With that tenuous connection possibly made slightly less tenuous, and a much-increased desire to speak with the elusive Ms. Aescar, Xaeryn wandered the museum a bit--might as well; she was here and it would help her think--before heading back out to her car.

“Ladies first,” a dark haired gentleman said, holding the front door open for her and allowing her to precede him down the steps.

Xaeryn nodded and flashed a brief smile of courteous thanks for his chivalry, noting he headed for a gleaming, high-end motorcar, black with red accents, that made hers look dingy.  Bet it’s a nightmare to keep that fancy, she thought, paying the man no further mind. She started her car and flicked on the headlights to counter the settling dim of evening as she pulled away.

With her thoughts split between the road and mulling over the case, it took a few turns for her to notice a pair of headlights that appeared to be following the same route she was. That wasn’t terribly unusual, but the fact they were deliberately keeping back was. Tricky as surreptitious glances in a motorcar could be, Xaeryn managed one the next time she had to stop for traffic. Just as her... friend passed under a streetlight.

Black car, with red accents.

Gooseflesh prickled up her arms, and she shifted her planned route home to one with sparse enough traffic covert pursuit would be impossible. Two turns into the new path, her tail must have picked up on her plan and lammed off down a side street. Xaeryn wondered if he thought he was being subtle, and kept a careful eye out the rest of the way back. Despite not seeing any further tails, she remained on guard until she turned the key in her office door, slipped in, and locked it behind her.

“Intriguing development,” she murmured to the empty room as she unpinned her hat. And an interesting end to a very full day. Xaeryn sat wearily at her desk and kicked off her shoes. Even choosing comfort over style, her feet were sore from all the walking. Merchants’ Guild, Ashtown, the Hall... and barely a chance to sit all day. She returned her notepad to the desk drawer and locked it again, but left the stiletto blade in her handbag. She’d likely need it tomorrow anyway. Particularly if it was anywhere near as busy as today.

Busy enough to have missed any telephone calls that came while I was gadding about. Normally while already on a case, that would bother her less, but Red had said he’d call if he learned anything new. She’d hate to be missing information that could help the case, she mused, flicking a glance from the telephone to the clock on her wall. Hopefully this wasn’t too late for her to call him. She dug her notepad back out and flipped through the pages until she reached the section in Red’s sprawling shorthand. There, on the back of a previous page, tucked in the corner like a random doodle, was his office telephone number. Xaeryn smiled at the close resemblance of his eights and zeroes, but knew her own ones and sevens weren’t much better.

After only a brief moment of further hesitation, she pulled the telephone closer and started dialing. It wasn’t that late.

It was answered on the third ring, a slightly breathless, “Hello?”

“Liefred?”

“Xaeryn.” There was a note of surprise in his voice.

“Got it in one, smart man.” But I knew that.

He laughed. “Not that hard; you’re just about the only one who insists on calling me that, even if you don’t need to.” There was a small creak that conjured mental images of him leaning against the desk or slouched in his chair.  “Everything alright? Did you need something?”

“Other way ‘round, actually.” Xaeryn fiddled with her notepad. “I’ve had a busy day and it occurred I wasn’t here much if you’d called, so I thought I’d check.”

“There are these people called secretaries, Xaeryn,” Red teased. “You might look into hiring one of them.”

“I know, I know.” She snorted softly. “Especially since most people don’t have your genial reaction to me missing their calls...”

“Most people haven’t known you since you were a gangly fourteen year old trying to cram yourself in the library loft to read in peace, either,” he said warmly. “I know how focused you get. And nothing new, I’m afraid. I got stuck lecturing first-years all day.”

“And you survived,” Xaeryn laughed, curling her toes in and out when they started to cramp.  

“Barely,” Red said with a rueful laugh(she’d bet he was running a hand through his hair). “And that despite their best efforts.”

“See, this is why I didn’t want to stick around,” she said, only half-joking.

“Smart woman,” he deadpanned. “But I knew that already.”

Flatterer. It sounded coy and thus stayed in her head, replaced with an equally joking, “I won’t guest lecture, before you ask.”

“Damn,” he said lightly, “At any rate, I’m sorry I don’t have more yet-”

“Don’t apologize,” she cut him off. “I wasn’t expecting anything. Only checking. Just in case. Your responsibilities come first and they kept you busy today. I had plenty of other leads to chase today.”

“Where did they take you?” Red asked. “You mentioned being busy...”

“Merchants’ Guild to start. Then Ashtown-”

“Xaeryn.” His voice was already bristling worry.

“--to talk to Thieves’ guild.”

“Alone?! Ryn-” Red huffed a sigh of exasperated, retroactive concern and she bit back a laugh at how well she’d pegged his reaction. “Do you... take risks like that often?”

“Only when I need to,” she said carefully. Wouldn’t be mentioning the tail on her way home, then. “I know how to handle myself, Liefred. I was polite, we talked, I left. It was fine.”

A long moment of silence. “If you say so.” He didn’t sound completely convinced. (She decided not to tell him her office-apartment sat right by the boundary between Astown and Smoketown) “What else?”

“Just the Hall of History and Culture to speak with the curator.” She shifted in her chair. “That one took a while, but I got some good information to follow up tomorrow.”

“Best of luck with that, and... be careful?”

Xaeryn smiled fondly, unsure whether or not to hope it carried into her voice. “As I can be.” A beat, then she added lightly, “I’d hate to wind up a cautionary tale in one of your lectures, Headmaster.”

“Xaeryn.” She could practically see him trying to glower at her(and failing; Red couldn’t be that mean) through the telephone. “I’m serious.”

“I know.” And I appreciate it. She sobered her tone to match his. “But my line of work comes with risks sometimes.The best I can do is promise not to exacerbate them.”

“I’ll take it,” Red said softly, then was quiet a long moment. “I should let you go; it sounds like you have another busy day tomorrow?”

“I do.” She’d still stay up til midnight talking to him in a heartbeat, but, “and you probably need to recover from this one.”

“Mm. I get to do it again tomorrow, too,” he said glibly.

Xaeryn laughed. “I’ll keep you in my thoughts,” she said with mock solemnity  “Good luck to you, as well, in that case.”

“Thank you, I’ll need it,” Red chuckled softly. “Goodnight, Xaeryn.”

“Goodnight, Liefred.”

She stared at the telephone a long moment after hanging up, smile curling her lips, before pushing out of the chair. After a day like this, she needed dinner, a hot bath, and a good night’s sleep. In that order.

She still double checked the door was locked before turning in.

----

(what you don’t see, bc I stuck with Ryn POV, is Pan was in Red’s office with him when she called. :3 Cue Pan promptly batting his eyelashes, making exaggerated lovestruck faces, and generally being a little shit bc He Knows, while Red’s gesturing for Pan to GET OUT of his office. and trying to get him to listen without actually talking so Ryn doesn’t know someone’s there(he doesn’t know why he doesn’t want her knowing that, he just doesn’t). Pan finally relents but hangs in the hallway til they’re done and comes back in with the biggest shit-eating grin “You’re still stuck on her, aren’t you?” Red, groaning and burying his face in his hands: “Pan, close your head, PLEASE. yes”)

[queenoftheworldisdead]

The Cookout

Note: Inspired by art from @nix-akimbo seen here.

Summery: Your friend’s mom invites you over to neighborhood cook out.

Warning: Sex in a shed. Rough sex, cream pie, choking, spanking

Bucky x Reader

As soon as Sam's mom opened the door she lit up like a Christmas tree. You were in town and thought you should swing by, before heading back out of town.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!" Mrs.Wilson squealed.

"Sorry I'm just so busy at work that I don't have time to come out to these parts often."

Mrs. Wilson released you and shouted out to her son.  Moving to the side she walked you through the house where you found your childhood best bud unpacking groceries.

"Well, aren't you the domestic" you kid the goofball.

"Aye!" Sam shouted, arms out stretched, putting down the item in his hand to rush over and hug you. "What are you doing here?"

"Just swinging by. I am heading back to the city tonight."

"Oh no! Stay the night. The neighbors are putting together a big  BBQ party tomorrow. I'm making ribs" she nudged you with a wink. Your stomach nearly growled from that alone. Mrs.Wilson's cooking was legendary.

Living in the city you rarely cooked for yourself. Sustaining heavily on a diet of takeout or frozen confections.

"Hmmm" you pondered playfully "What do I need to bring?"

"Nothing but your appetite" Sam chimed in.

"Well OK then, let me see if I can get my room, back and I will come round ar.."

"Girl don't make me spank you! Sam's house is big enough for you too. Sam! Go get her things out the car!" You laughed as she barked orders at her boy.

Back in the day you could not have imagine this super religious woman would ever allow you to sleep under the same roof as her boy, but times seemed to have really changed. But you slightly figured ulterior motives were at play.

The next day you arose to the sound of Marvin Gaye and smokey charcoal from the large barbecue grill outside.

After brushing your teeth, washing your face and slapping on some yoga pants and loose tee you make your way down to the kitchen.

Thankfully a pot was already percolating and of course Mrs. Wilson had set a side a plate of bacon, eggs and toast with a note addressed to you.

Walking over to the cabinet you waved to Sam and his mother, the pair arguing over something on the grill outside. The familiar sight of their banter bringing a smile to your face.

Searching the cabinets you sing to yourself as the Isley Brothers started to play.

"And who are you?" A strange voice startled you from behind.

"Oh shit!" You screeched, dropping the procaine cup in fright.

"Sorry Doll didn't mean to scare you."

His open Hawaiian shirt exposed his tattooed arms and chest. Your eyes scanned his body, your teeth dragging across your bottom lip as he stood before you.

"See something you like Doll?"

"I-i um" you stutter out.

"James!" Mrs.Wilson shouted as she came through the patio door.

"Good morning beautiful!" He smiled turning his attention away from you to her.

She embraced and hugged the stranger. Sam's mother stepped back and introduced you to him. Stretching out a hand he asked that you call him 'Bucky'.

"Nice to meet you."

"She is an old friend of Sam's, just in town for a bit." She explained to him.

"James lives next door and served with Sam, helping to protect my baby." Mrs. Wilson pinched his cheeks adorably making you giggle.

"Hey man!" Sam called from behind you. "Come around to steel our secret recipe huh?"

Bucky held his hands up in surrender, the two men chatted while Mrs. Wilson stayed back with you. You watched the exchange while picking up the pieces of the shattered cup from the floor.

Mrs. Wilson sent you on a quick errand to pick up a few bottles of Hennessy and Crown Royal. As you drove back to the neighborhood the party was already starting to kick off.

Parking in front, you unloaded the car and brought in the bottles. Fumbling with the door as you try and open it a hard body brushed up against you making you gasp.

"You scare easily don't you Doll?"

The smooth sound of Bucky's voice appeared from behind you. You scoffed at his remark. Taking one of the bags from your grasp, he opened the door and pushed past you.

Following behind you both march to the kitchen and through the back door. Placing the booze on a picnic table that was beginning to be stuffed with food and drink.

You looked around for the familiar faces of Sam or his mother, but weren't around. Presumable making their rounds to the other houses.

"You look like a lost puppy Doll." Bucky said as he poured a drink into one of the plastic cups.

"Not really a party person" You shrugged, Bucky passed you a cup and you reluctantly took it. The generous pourer didn't dink mix the hard liquor with soda so the burn was strong.

"Moved on from scaring and now trying to kill me huh?" You popped open a coke to dilute the awful drink.

"Sam never mentioned you were such a light weight." Bucky teased.

“Sam doesn’t mention a lot of things its seems.”

He was handsome and you were sure he knew it. He hovered around you, talking to neighbors that passed by. While you took out your phone a sipped your drink.

"If you are done baby sitting your drink do you think you can help me with something?" Bucky asked.

"What?"

"I need help getting the extra tables out of the shed. Can't find Sam so I figured you would do."

You ignored the way he looked you up and down. "Fine lets go."

Walking behind him to the shed, he opened the door and allowed you to walk in first. The small cramped space held a rusted muscle car that Sam had told you he was going to fix up. The old clunker surrounded by rusty tools and folded tables. Bucky squeezed past you, accidentally knocking you forward onto the hood of the car.

"Hey watch it Bucko." You scolded him as you try and push up.

"Sorry Doll" he paused finally noticing your awkward position. Pulling back from the tables he moved to squeeze behind you again.

When he pressed his cock on your ass you felt instant heat.

"Do you mind? Kinda hard for me to move with you like this." You looked over your shoulder at him.

"I can see why Sam has kept quiet about you now" rubbing his groan on you, standing up straight he didn't allow for any space.

"I think the tables are over there." changing the subject, you point and try to move, but he placed hands on either side of you not allowing you to move.

"Big city girl so up tight" he spoke into the shell of your ear.  Bucky's cock felt hard as he pressed on the fat of your ass.

"You know I think they might be looking for us" you try and move again, but Bucky bumped you a harder with his hips.

"Nah they're fine" Bucky hummed as he hooked his thumbs in the waist band of your yoga pants. Your hands move to the top of his and you hesitate to pry him off. The buzz of the booze started to course through your veins. Pulling your pants down past your ass you couldn't find the strength to stop him.

Bucky pushed your shoulder forward and you found yourself on the hood of the car again. A part of you wanted to bring an end to this while the other half blamed it on the alcohol.

"Fuck Doll your already making me pre come." Bucky tapped the head of his cock on your as and growled. You could feel yourself grow wet, thinking about him putting his cock inside you.

With one hand gripping your hip, he guided his tip to your folds. Playing with your wetness, teasing you with gentle pressure at your entrance. "We should probably s-stop" you started to stutter. Thinking of how you didn't want Sam or his mom to find you like this.

Bucky only tsk'd as he pressed in to part your slick lips with his dick. The slow stretching made you moan lowly. A hard smack came across your ass making you hiss in pain.

"Don't be shy on my account Doll" he pushed his weight into your ass, leaning into your ear."I want to hear you scream."

"Mmm" you grit your teeth as you try and adjust to his size.

"So tight Doll, you fit me so good."

Standing up straight, Bucky pulled your hips back with it. Rocking his hips slowly into you, smacking your ass with each odd stroke. Your hands cup the side of the car for support as  you threw it back on him. Bucky groaned watching you bounce on his cock, praising your efforts to take him deeper before taking control again.

The music of the party bled through the walls giving you the courage to moan louder as be fucked you. You didn't care that your knees hit hard against the tires of the beat up car. Or that each stroke had you gasping as he hit the inner wall of your mound. Now the idea of being caught made this event all the more exciting.

"Fuck Bucky!" You shouted as your hands move to scrub against the hood of the car.

"That's it Doll, tell me who you belong to." His cocky tone bringing out your bratty side. Looking over your shoulder, Bucky's body glistened in the dimly lit room.  

When he locked eyes with you, you shake your head no. His cocky smirk returned with the build between your legs.

He gave a hard thrust and it took every thing just to choke it down. Pushing and holding himself deep inside of you, the fullness almost too much to bare. Your feet dance in place as Bucky's hand snaked up your spine, wrapping around smoothing over your breast until he rested on your neck. His grip tightened on your throat, forcing your back into an uncomfortable angle. Your hands barely able to touch the hood of the car.

"Fuck shit!" You choked out.

"That's not my name Doll" he growled as he made his grip tighter around your neck. His hips slammed into yours with a punishing pace.

"Ahh shit fuck" you moan out as you feel your mound start to throb.

"Still not my name. Say it!" He commanded.

You couldn't take it, you felt so full. Your pussy stuffed with his dick, your eyes start to roll as he grunted your name.

"Bucky! Bucky! Shit!" You mewled out as your cunt worked his dick while you cum.

His victorious chuckles mixed with a primal moan. His pace steady as a warmness filled you, leaking out past him and down your thigh. Bucky's cock twitched as he emptied himself inside of you.

"Shit! Did you cum in me!" you exclaim as he slowly pulled out. His seed dripping slowly down your leg, turning to face him, he only gave a shrug and a smile. Pulling up your pants you fume at his irresponsibility and your own stupidity.

[ill-skillsgard]

Blue and Yellow - Part 8 - Axel Cluney

Warning: 18+ sex/mature themes/strong language/medical themes/mentions of blood+injuries/hospitals/violence/drug and alcohol use **In this part: drug and alcohol use, violence, mentions of blood, violence/assault, mentions of alcoholism, smut**

Description: Saberrah Asta, Featherfall General’s newest nurse, finds herself entangled in the complicated life of an underground boxer with a slew of problems she can’t fix. Will Axel’s love knock out the voices telling her to run, or will their explosive romance fizzle as fast as it flourished?

Note: Thanks to everyone who continues to enjoy this series and reblogs the chapters as they come out. I really, really appreciate your support. If you can’t reblog, consider dropping a like and a comment... It really makes me happy and lets me know I’m not wasting my time posting on this website. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

In the ruddy glow of the UV lights, eyes stuck on a woman twirling around a powdered pole. She started the show wearing a yellow underbust corset, a ruffled skirt and a matching bikini top. The music came on, and the corset flew off with it as she sidled up to the chrome pole and arched her back until her crown touched the floor. Sabi watched the sweat drip from a man's forehead onto the edge of the stage. The dancer rolled over the droplet, absorbing the perspiration, and continued bending her body into impressive shapes.

Not all eyes focused on the yellow-clad exotic dancer commanding the stage with her long legs, nine-inch stiletto boots and stiff, blond wig. Some eyes were on the girls swapping empty cups for full ones, some on the women grinding on laps, and one set scanned the floor for lost money. One of the first things Sabi noticed about the strip club—other than its low, dark, and claustrophobic ceiling and walls—was that the carpeting around the stage littered with dollar coins. They glinted under the disco lights and beckoned her pick them up. She'd asked Axel why there were so many toonies on the floor, and he told her it was because people weren't allowed to tip with coins, and since the lowest notes were shiny fivers, the dancers often came away with a day's worth of money in two songs' time if their patrons were generous.

Sabi collected the coins, stored them in the pockets of her scrubs and until she swapped them for gin and tonics.

Arty sat on the other side of a horseshoe-shaped table, gawking up at the dancers like a boy witnessing his first Christmas tree. Only between songs did he shut his mouth and make his way over to his cousin to ask, "did you see that? Did you see her? I think she likes me. Think I should buy a dance from her?"

Axel spread out his hand and waited for Sabi to take hold. When she did, Axel pulled her from her seat and asked for a cigarette since his pack had run out on the trip to Nikki's. They went outside and stood under a neon sign of a buxom woman riding a sausage in cowboy boots. The sign flashed, and the large-breasted rider's hat came off. Axel lit his cigarette first and swapped it with Sabi's dry one.

Sabi looked around the lot, then back at Axel, who leaned against the brick wall, blowing smoke rings into the night air under the deep red glow. The weed had worn off during the ride up and left a residual sleepiness Sabi continued to chase off by flexing her toes and noticing how plain she looked, still dressed in her hospital scrubs.

"So, why do you guys call it Sticky Nikki's?" Sabi asked.

Axel's mouth tilted to one side, smiling as he exhaled. "Most people say it's because the dancers here don't shower, but it's really because of the bathrooms."

Sabi's full bladder clenched. "What about them?"

"Every surface of the bathrooms besides the toilet seats are covered with oil."

She contorted her top lip in disgust. "Um, why?"

"So people don't do coke in there."

"I don't understand."

"You can't bust lines on a greasy surface. The coke will stick and clump up. They've been raided before, so I guess they took that route. Now people just do coke in the VIP booths or in their cars."

"Wow, that's very... Innovative?"

A yellow Firebird chugged into a parking space across the lot, headlights closing before the engine cut. The vehicle caught Axel's attention, and he threw his half-smoked cigarette on the ground to stamp it out.

"Come on. Let's get back inside—"

"AXEL?"

"Oh, fuck."

"Axel! Hellooo!"

The driver stepped out of the Firebird onto the asphalt in strappy silver heels coiling up her naked shins and thighs. Her matching dress ended at her hips, revealing a small triangle of silver between her legs as she walked and urged the dress down. The unforgiving material slid back up as she trotted toward Axel and Sabi, bangles, necklace and dangling earrings jingling as she went. The woman wore a bright pink, faux fur bolero around her shoulders with her silvery hair piled high on her head. Sabi noticed large, pierced nipples straining through the Mylar dish towel of a dress and an illegible tattoo seated between her breasts.

"Oh, Bluebear! C'mere handsome! Give me a hug right now!" The thin, knobby woman threw her torso at Axel, knocking him into the brick wall. He returned a brief hug and dropped his arms, but the woman clung to him and kissed his cheek. She clutched his face and peppered his jawline with kisses. "Oh my God, I can't believe you're here! Did you come just to see me?"

Axel chuckled nervously and pushed her off with two hands on her fur-lined shoulders. The woman ignored Sabi and continued trying to land kisses on Axel's face and hands.

"Marley, calm down, Jesus," Axel said.

"I'm sorry, I just can't believe you're here. I've been thinking about you. You never call?"

"Busy. Always busy."

"Apparently not too busy to be here."

Axel nodded to his left, where Sabi stood, stunned. "You can thank her and Arty for dragging me out."

Marley gave Sabi a quick glance, then turned her attention on Axel with a broad smile full of crooked teeth. "Are you gonna watch me dance tonight?"

"No, Marley. That's weird."

"Oh, come on, Bluey! We're not related anymore since Greg and Juney divorced," she giggled. "I'm fair game."

Sabi fluttered her lashes and scoffed. "Excuse me, Marley, is it?"

"Yeah?"

"Take your fucking hands off my boyfriend."

Marley stepped back, one heel wobbling on a loose stone. Axel pressed himself flat to the wall. The vicious edge of Sabi's voice cut through the din of music filtering from the inside, leaving the three of them in strained silence. Sabi took one last puff of her cigarette and flicked it at the dancer's feet. Her last few drinks curdled her blood and pumped her chest full of adrenaline.

"Damn, you're a feisty one," said Marley with a scoff. "Axe, are you just gonna let her talk to me like that?"

Axel nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I am. You should go inside, Marley... Before you catch hands."

"And a cold," Sabi spat, ridiculing the woman's outfit with a furrowed brow and blazing eyes.

"Wow, that's fucking rude. Can't believe you, Blue."

The front door swung open, and Arty came stumbling out with another couple of friends who'd driven up to the strip club with them. In his drunken haze, Arty missed the tension and gasped at Marley.

"Mar-Mar!" He approached her with his thick arms akimbo. Marley ducked away from the large man's embrace. "What's the matter?"

"Blue's girlfriend is the matter."

Sabi clenched her fists as the cousins murmured in surround sound. Axel caught Sabi's arm and tugged her back into the club as she twisted her neck, eyes sweltering on the blond woman. Once inside and clear of the entrance, Axel spun her to face him.

"Easy, Saberrah. Easy. Deep breath."

Instead of inhaling, Sabi launched herself at his chest, poking his sternum with a stiff finger. "I'll gouge that bitch's eyes out, Axel. I promise you!"

"No, no, no," he shook his head. "Don't. I know you're pissed, but you can't let her get to you. That's just Marley for ya. She's a dumbass."

"She's gonna be a dead dumbass!"

Axel smothered Sabi in his arms, brushed his fingers through her hair and shushed her until she stopped struggling. "Don't fucking start a fight at Sticky Nikki's, babe. You don't want to be that person."

The multi-coloured lights shifted along the walls and floor, illuminating the couple as Axel held Sabi's head in place between his hands. He ducked to kiss her in hopes some affection might disperse her anger, but it only fanned the flame.

"Who the fuck does she think she is walking up and practically making out with you? Like what the fuck is that, Axel? Have you fucked her before? Why did she do that?"

"What the fuck, Sabi? Of course, I haven't fucked my fucking cousin."

"She sure acts like there's a fucking chance!"

The bouncer at the door caught wind of the heated exchange unfolding between the bar and the tables. He snapped his thick fingers at Axel.

"Take it outside, man!"

Axel nodded, gave a courteous wave to the bouncer, and guided Sabi to a darker corner. "Babe, come on. It's done."

"No, this was a mistake. I shouldn't have let you get me drunk. We're broken up. I shouldn't even be here with you. Look what I'm wearing, Axel. This is fucking ridiculous."

Desperate terror broke Axel's composure, and he gathered her in his arms, clamping her shoulders. "Don't fucking say that. We're not broken up. Please, Sabi, don't do this to me again. I thought we were cool?"

"No, we're not fucking cool! You're a goddamn liar, and your stupid family are a bunch of fucking lunatics!"

"I know they are, I know, but please, God, just don't fucking do this, Sab. We're together. I'm here. I won't ever lie to you again, I swear on my mother's life. Can we please just forget about this and go home? Let's go home, babe."

"Why are you like this?" Sabi moaned. Her head spun, senses awash in cheap beer and liquor, anxiety mounting. She begrudged her furious outburst, but it wouldn't subside no matter how loud her inner reason screamed out to stop. "Why did I ever get involved with you?"

"Sabi, Sabi, please," Axel's tone flattened into a serious line. Sobered and despairing, Axel bent at the knees to meet her eyes, hands squeezing her arms. "Baby, I love you. I love you. Don't talk like that. Jesus, I've never loved anyone in my fucking life the way I love you. I'm sorry I'm not perfect, but please, don't do this to me again. You're just drunk, babe. Come on, we'll go home and sleep it off."

A bubble burst in Sabi's throat, and she whimpered. Close to tears, she buried her face in his chest and threw her arms around him. Axel melted into the embrace. He squeezed his eyes shut and hugged her in the UV light, white tank top glowing pale blue.

Sabi mumbled incoherently until Axel pulled away and asked what she said. She sniffled and wiped her nose, muttering, "I love you, too. I love you so much, and I hate it."

The bouncer kept eyes on the arguing couple until yelling from outside the club took priority. As the stage lights dimmed and the flaring shower of red and blue sprayed the stage, Axel took Sabi's hand and led her to a row of curtained booths. He pushed her through a heavy flap into a cubicle with a C-shaped couch and a small television on a shelf displaying a feed of the stage. To the right, on a small ledge, was an empty cup containing a few torn condom wrappers. Potlights behind the red leather sofa soaked the space and reflected off the mirrors on the ceiling and floor. Sabi chuffed as Axel pulled her close and kissed her.

"This place is disgusting, Axel."

"I fucking told you! But you wanted to come. We could have gone home and cuddled and went to bed, but you wanted to go out."

"I haven't partied in a long time. Thought it would be nice to do something fun."

"Strip clubs aren't my idea of fun," Axel said.

"What? You don't like tits in your face? Looks like the last ones in here had a great time," Sabi indicated the square foil packets in the plastic cup.

Axel sat on the lumpy cushions and pulled Sabi onto his lap. "The only tits I want in my face are yours."

"But mine aren't huge like theirs."

"You mean they're not pumped full of silicone? Oh, no," Axel rolled his eyes.

"Did you mean that?" Sabi sniffled. "Do you really love me?"

Axel stared up at her with his arms around her waist, eyes blasted open and shining as his bottom lip wobbled. "Sab... I've never loved anyone. Up until we met, I didn't think it was possible. I thought maybe I was fucked up and emotionally damaged. Maybe I saw my parents hate each other so hard, it ruined any chance of me wanting a relationship. And I'm sorry my family is so fucked up. I'm trying hard not to be like them. I've always wanted to do better, and then I met you, and everything changed. I love you."

Thunder rolled through Sabi's skull. The alcohol fuzz and adrenaline receded, exposing an agitated sore through the air of Axel's confession. She pulled his face to hers and kissed him. Axel returned the motion with a tilt of his head and two roaming hands. He hoped he was in the clear, that Sabi wouldn't turn around and chastise him or claim they weren't together. The unburdening of truth left his chest empty but warm. Axel had practiced his speech in several forms, never once thinking he'd deliver it to Sabi in the VIP booth of a strip club after she threatened to kill one of his cousins.

"Please, Axe, please... Don't lie to me ever again. I want you to tell me the truth about everything. You can't sit here and tell me you love me if you intend to lie again."

"I won't lie. I swear. You're everything to me, babe. Just stay with me. Don't say we're not together... I can't stand the sound of that."

"We are together," Sabi said, pressing her forehead to his. "We're together."

"Thank you," he whispered against her lips.

They stayed in the booth, kissing and holding each other while Aerosmith, Motley Crue and Whitesnake played over the PA system. Sequestered from their group, the couple talked shit about Axel's cousins and poked fun at themselves for indulging the white trash rhapsody they so often condemned. Sabi fought off her sleepiness by teasing Axel until he couldn't stand her grinding and whispers. Still, her intoxication erased all bashfulness, and she climbed off his lap to dance for him when Cherry Pie by Warrant blasted over the sound system.

"Oh, nurse, are you gonna make me feel better?" Axel asked.

"My routine is all method. Nurse by day, slut by night," Sabi giggled.

"I like that. You should get up on that stage and shake that sweet booty. Show those girls what it's all about."

Sabi whirled around, cheeks prickling red. "No way. I'm not dancing in front of those gross old dudes and your cousins."

Axel chuckled until he sighed. "Speaking of my stupid-ass cousins... We should probably find them. I'm about ready to split from this festering anal scab. What do you think?"

"It would be nice to get out of these scrubs. I feel like a total nerd."

"You wear it well, babe. Real well."

The two left the booth, skirted the tables and found Arty engaged in conversation with Jack, another one of their cousins, at the opposite corner of the club. For once, Arty wasn't gawping at the dancers but motoring through an explanation until he caught sight of Axel and Sabi. He slammed his fist on the table, startling Jack and sloshing beer over the plastic cups.

"There you fucking are! Christ, I was looking all over for you! Thought you left until I saw the Monte still in the lot. Where the fuck have you been?"

"We were just talking."

"Marley's pissed. Said she's gonna have the guys throw you both out."

Axel jeered. "Yeah, whatever. Marley's a fucking cunt, and we're about ready to take off anyway."

"Hey, I got a little something, Axe. Wanna pitch on this gram?"

Sabi cocked her head until Arty flashed a small vial he'd been holding in his meaty palm. She looked to Axel, then back at Arty, who pumped his eyebrows. Jack, their younger, skinnier and quieter cousin, hid a grin behind a crudely tattooed fist. It clicked then that the two had already partaken, and the full effects motored through their mouths and tapping feet.

"Man, fuck that shit," Axel said.

Sabi's heart raced. She'd never seen cocaine before, and the thought of Axel snorting drugs filled her with an itchy sensation that wasn't as worrisome as she thought. Memories of overdose patients riddled her brain, drowned only by the glamour and taboo of the powder in Arty's hand. She pinched the inside of her cheek between her teeth and looked up at Axel, squeezing his hand.

"What? You wanna do some?" He asked in a lowered voice.

"I don't know," Sabi shrugged. "I've never tried it before."

"It's really not that great."

"Well..."

"Come on, Blue."

Axel let out a hiss of air. "You only want me to so I'll pitch on it."

"Nah, you don't have to. My treat," said Arty. "You don't owe me for the 'dro either. You guys said you wanted to party, so let's fucking party."

Inside the Monte Carlo, Arty and Jack took the backseats, and Sabi sat upfront while Axel dipped his house key into the vial. Arty and Jack had already tipped a pinch onto the backs of their hands and shot it up their nostrils with ease, roiling their noses around and sniffling as the substance absorbed. The key came out with a small white peak and soon disappeared up Axel's right nostril. He sat back, eyes wide as he sniffled and cleared his throat, blinking wildly until he smiled and looked back at his cousins.

"Jesus."

"Right? It's good blow. None of that fenny bullshit. Don't worry, we already tested it."

Jack tapped the fanny pack around his waist. "Naloxone, just in case. Playin' it smart after Tracy."

Arty sighed, "rest in peace."

Sabi's palms and feet moistened as Axel dipped the key in the vial again and came up with a much smaller amount of powder. He twisted in the seat and handed the vial to Arty. "Ready?"

"Um... I don't really know what to do," said Sabi.

"Here," Axel pressed her left nostril shut with the tip of his middle finger. "When I say so, inhale like you're trying to hawk a loogie."

Sabi made a look of disgust until Axel brought the edge of the key to her nose.

"Okay, go."

Powder shot into her nasal cavity, coating the walls and setting off her salivary glands. After a few seconds, she felt her nose dripping and sucked the fluid back until her throat went numb. She hauled the mucus into her mouth and swallowed, then ran her tongue over her teeth and gums, feeling nothing.

"Did I do it right?" She asked as her eyelids drew back, and the lethargy gave way to an intense rush of energy.

Axel and his cousins tittered. "Yeah, babe. You did it right."

"Am I supposed to feel like my head is numb?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Jack. "Funny feeling at first, but you'll get used to that. It goes away pretty soon."

Axel shook his head. "Nah, there's nothing to get used to. This is a one-time thing. Just for shits and giggles, okay?"

"Okay," said Sabi as Axel grabbed her hand and squeezed.

In minutes, Sabi's top row of teeth pressed down. Her heart thumped in her chest like a spastic drum, and a sudden urge to kiss Axel overcame her. She leaned forward and crushed her mouth to his, only pulling back when a worried grunt left Arty's throat.

Ahead of the car, a muscular man wearing a braided mohawk stomped out of the club with Marley in tow. The blond pointed directly at the Monte Carlo as another pair of men followed out the door. The one with the mohawk clenched his fists and stomped toward the car, snarling viciously. He rose the hammer of his fist and brought it down in the hood of Axel's prized ride.

"I don't fucking think so," Axel said. "Arty, Jack!"

Arty opened the door and was halfway on the pavement when Axel shot out.

"Yo, what the fuck, man?" Axel yelled.

"You piece of shit! Get the fuck out of here, you pussy bitch!" Marley screeched. "And take your ugly slob of a girlfriend with you!"

Sabi choked on her battering pulse as Axel widened his stance, opening his arms in invitation. Axel chuckled at his assailant, which only toughened the menace on his face.

Axel taunted him. "Come on, cocksucker. I dare you to take your shot. I'll give you one good one, then I'll fuck your shit up so bad your crackhead mom won't recognize you,"

"Get him, Brian!"

"You're making a big fucking mistake. That's the Cobra, ya fuckin' idiot. He's a pro boxer! Like, you're gonna die, dude!" Arty laughed.

"Fuck off, Arty!" Marley stepped up to her cousin but met a wall.

"Why don't you go back inside and suck some meth-head cock for rent? Ya fuckin' slut."

The people gathering around reminded Sabi of Axel's illegal basement fight. Their taunting and jeers sounded just like the rousing of the crowd. Axel bounced on his toes, beckoning the guy with a cocky smirk plastered on his face. "Come on. Hit me, pussy. I want you to!"

Arty wrestled with Marley until the man took a swing at Axel's face. The boxer dodged the punch and reciprocated as fast as a jolt of lightning, throwing a hook that sent him stumbling backward. A stream of blood burst from his nose. With his fists up, Axel cackled and shifted back and forth, throwing jabs to the air.

"Aw, fuck yeah! Come on, pussy! Let's see if you can land one on me!" He stood still and tapped his cheek. "Right here, motherfucker."

"Fuck him up, Blue!"

Sabi had enough. Her limbs tingled while she got out of the car and took a running start at Marley, who was yelling for her protector to hit Axel. She wound her arm, closed her eyes and thrust forth in a blind fury. When she opened her eyes, Marley had toppled onto her ass, screaming and clutching her face. Her accomplices froze, and the lot went quiet for a breath. Then the doors flew open, and 3 security guards ran out. Sabi scrambled back into the car, chugging air and shaking. She stared at her quaking hands and saw blood on her knuckles. By the time the security made it to the vehicle, Axel had jumped in and locked the doors.

"Holy shit, babe. Holy shit!"

The bouncer who had yelled at them earlier to take their arguing elsewhere banged on Axel's window.

"Out of the car, motherfucker!"

Axel threw up his hands in a shrug. "No can do, muchacho!"

He turned on the engine, throwing light over the group. One guard smacked the hood while the others gathered around Marley to help her stand.

"Oh, Jesus, Axe. What if I broke her nose?"

"I hope you did. Now, let's get the fuck outta here."

Axel revved the engine, threatening to pull forward despite the human barricade in front of the car. He laid on the horn, deafening the yelling into inaudible chaos, then revved again. Pulling forth an inch, the guards and screaming members of the Cluney family dispersed, and once the way was clear, Axel peeled out of the parking lot and sped onto the road toward the city.

 The couple hollered and laughed, speeding down the country line. On the crest of a hill, Axel spotted flashing lights in the distance. He slowed the car and held his breath while Sabi squeezed his thigh. He pulled to the shoulder and waited for the police cruiser to pass. Axel watched in the rearview, then twisted around until the lights disappeared. They both let out heavy sighs of relief.

"Christ Almighty... That was fucking insane."

Sabi held up her quivering hands. "I... I can't believe I did that. Axel, I punched your cousin in the face!"

"You punched through her face. Through it. Fuck! I've never seen a girl rock someone that goddamn hard in my life. It was like... All slow motion for a second. Everyone just stopped."

"Oh my God... Am I gonna go to jail?"

Axel tossed his head back with laughter, clapping Sabi's thigh. "No, babe. You're not going to jail."

"What about your cousins? What if they tell the cops I assaulted her?"

"They got no proof. Well, except the epic shiner Marley's gonna have. But it's Sticky's. Nobody cares if some stripper gets popped in the mug. Happens all the time. It's par for the course, baby. Don't worry."

"Fuck, I think I get why you fight now. I feel so gangster."

"That was so hot, Sab. Not gonna lie. I'm totally switched on."

"Me too."

"I'm not kidding. Look," Axel nodded at his erection pressing against his jeans.

The Monte Carlo slowed over a rocky strip, chucking pebbles and dirt into the stream of the headlights. Axel eased the machine to a stop beside a line of pine trees, hidden from the road going South but exposed to the North. He didn't care. Not when Sabi had her hand buried in his pants, toying with his cock. A moment after he cut the engine, Axel whipped off his seatbelt and chased Sabi to the backseat where the stick shift didn't obscure their reach for each other. Once comfortably splayed on the seat, she tore open his jeans while he lifted his hips. His chucks were another roadblock easily vanquished in their haste to undress. Axel kept his tank top on, lifted Sabi's over her breasts, and pulled down her bra to suck her nipples into his mouth.

"Axe, don't come inside me."

"I won't, baby."

He slipped inside of her, senses heightened by the drugs and adrenaline still raging through his veins. The sensation of her wetness wringing true around his length made him shiver and burn.

"Fucking you without a condom is so much better. Christ, I don't believe what I've been missing."

Axel propped her on his groin, one foot behind either seat as he sank low enough to thrust without bumping her head on the roof of the car. A moan burst from his mouth. He rested his palms on her hips and let his eyes roll from the pleasure of the slick sounds, the wetness coating his length, her dew clinging to his pubic hair.

"Love it when you ride me. God, you have no idea how good that feels, baby."

Despite his claims, Axel lifted Sabi and placed her on her back so he could deliver several harsh thrusts. The cocaine seated his teeth together, imbued him with enough stamina to rock until the car joined in with the momentum. Desensitized, Axel continued the motion, hovering inches above her, pressing kisses to her lips and cheeks.

"Do you love me?"

Sabi stared at the man above her, plunging into her, squeezing her breasts and burying his face between them. Some gelled pieces of his hair fell out of place until she smoothed her palm over his crown.

"Yes... I love you, Axel."

"You sure?" He grunted.

"I'm positive."

"Even though I'm trash? Even though you're better than me?"

"I'm not better than you. What are you saying?"

"Yes, you are. You're perfect. I never wanna lose you. Please, don't say you love me unless you really mean it. Unless you can't live without me."

"I don't want to be without you."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Promise you'll love me no matter what."

Sabi giggled as though Axel made a joke. He stopped thrusting, laid his head on her chest and took a deep breath of her sweat and perfume. "I'm for real, Sabberah. Don't leave me again."

"I won't," she said in a small voice. "I love you, Axe. Why do you think I'm here?"

"'Cause, we're drunk and on drugs. I'm afraid you'll wake up sober tomorrow and realize you made a mistake."

Sabi propped her upper body on her elbows and clicked her tongue. "Don't give me a reason to feel like I made a mistake then."

"I won't. I won't, baby, I promise."

"Okay. Good. Now shut up and fuck me hard, you bad, bad man."

~*~

The sky was a gradient of royal blue and violet, crisping along the edge of the horizon when the couple untangled and drove into town. Rundown and exhausted from the night's events, they agreed on a local eatery called Ronnie's Poutine Palace for a needed meal. They wandered into the tiny restaurant and avoided the old man staring at them from the corner behind a newspaper. Sabi felt the grease clinging to her scalp, the sleep pulling her eyes, and the vapour from the grills only made it worse.

The restaurant seemed built into a wide hallway with only a few tables and a flaking mural of a chef caricature holding a dripping plate of fries and gravy. Underneath the cartoon chef, the wall advertised forty different kinds of poutine ranging from classic to mixtures that made Sabi's stomach gurgle unpleasantly. They served all-day breakfast and homemade Pogos and pastries. That morning, the pastry case was bereft of any of the advertised eclairs and cupcakes.

A young, gap-toothed girl came to take their order. Axel requested two coffees, a breakfast poutine and then turned to Sabi with shaded eyes. "What do you want, babe?"

"I'll have the French toast," Sabi said.

"Would you like any powdered sugar or strawberries? They're fresh. Just picked them from Cate's Farm yesterday."

Sabi nodded. "Sold. Uh, hold the sugar, though. Just berries. And maple syrup, please, if you have it."

"Of course."

Axel pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and instructed the girl to keep the change, then added a few dollars to the tip jar. Sabi rooted around in her pockets and found a sticky toonie to add.

"That's nice of you," Sabi commented.

"This place has cured some major hangovers in my day. I owe them my life."

The girl at the counter nodded. "We're open twenty-four hours and deliver all night. This city runs on our poutine."

Axel smiled, wheeling Sabi to a table near the front window.

They dug into their food when it arrived, Axel hacking the fried egg in half, so the yolk spilled over a pile of the greasiest fries Sabi had ever seen. She grimaced as he poked half a breakfast link in his mouth.

"Why not just have breakfast? Why taint perfectly good poutine?" Sabi asked.

"Because you don't just go to Ronnie's and not get poutine. Look at the size of this thing, and for eight bucks? Come on. You can't beat that."

Sabi prodded a heart-shaped strawberry with the tines of her fork and swirled it in a ramekin of syrup before eating it. Axel pointed at the stack of fried bread.

"Now that's gross. I don't know how you can stomach sugar right now. I'd barf."

"French toast is the tits. Don't hate."

"Yeah, but strawberries in syrup? You're weird, kid."

"You're weird. That yolk is all mixed in with the gravy. And the cheese. It's like slime."

Axel made a purposeful slurping sound, grating her nerves. She scrunched her nose and turned away to chew a mouthful of toast without the imagery.

They sipped coffee and ate as much as their stomachs could handle. Sabi blew her nose into a napkin and paled at the white snot. She sniffed the dried, flaky remnants of coke clinging to her nose hairs and smothered a sneeze with the back of her hand. "God, I feel like ass."

"Well, you look great."

Sabi looked down at her wrinkled work uniform. "I've been wearing the same outfit for a full twenty-four hours. How can you even say that?"

"'Cause I love ya."

"Stop," she angled her face.

"What? I don't care what you're wearing, and neither does anyone else. You look cute. Little rough, but we had a long night, didn't we Muhammed Ali?"

"Don't remind me."

Axel put down his fork and wiped his face with a napkin. "Hey, listen. Speaking of that... I wanted to talk to you about... The boxing."

"I'm not becoming a professional boxer, Axel. I already told you."

"No, not that. I mean, I wanna talk about my situation."

"Oh," Sabi chirped.

Axel took in a monumental breath, laid his hands flat on the table and gazed into her eyes until he was sure he had her attention. "I want to be honest with you and say I have no intention of stopping right now. I have a few more fights—"

"Wait, Axel, before you say anything, I have something to tell you as well. That night when I broke up with you for lying to me... I was at the fight. I watched you beat that guy."

"What? You're serious?"

"Yeah. I went out to the corner store for snacks and passed the gym you said you work at, but it was closed. I thought maybe you lied and had gone somewhere else. Maybe to another girl's place or something."

"Sabi, no."

"That's just what I thought. I know you wouldn't cheat on me. Anyway, I went around back, and some guy asked if I wanted to come in for the fight. It all just clicked in at that point. So, I went down there."

"Christ," Axel pinched between his eyebrows. "I don't want you around those maniacs."

Sabi pulled her phone from her pocket and scrolled through a few pictures until she found the flyer she'd found on the street with Axel's face on it. She held up the screen for him to see.

"What about this? This looks legitimate. You said you don't fight professionally anymore, but why not? You could be something if you tried."

Axel shook his head. "That was a while back."

"So, what? You can do what you love, Axel. Nothing's stopping you."

"Plenty is stopping me, Sab."

"Like what?"

"Like money."

"What do you mean?"

Axel pointed at her phone, grimacing. "See, that fight earned me three-hundred bucks. Do you know how much that fight at Vince's got me?"

"No."

"Three thousand."

"Oh."

"Yeah, and that was on the lower end of the scale. Three thousand for three minutes in the ring."

"But what good is that money if you get busted?"

Axel snickered and stuck out his hand for her to take. "Babe... There's a lot about Featherfall you don't know yet. We don't get busted. Half those bets were cops, lawyers, and shit. Bikers."

"Doctors?" Asked Sabi.

"That's another thing,” Axel said. “Farber... You obviously know him from work."

"I do."

"I don't want you tangled in that life, and Farber won't want one of his subordinates knowing his business."

"Little too late for that," Sabi muttered.

"I'm serious, Sab. Some of those guys are real dangerous."

Sabi leered. "Rufus Farber?"

"Maybe not him on his own, but you don't know the types he runs with."

"Well, I know you, don't I? Are you one of the dangerous types?"

"I'm the type that has debts to pay and doesn't want his girlfriend getting involved in the mess."

"What debts?"

"I don't know, just debts."

Sabi sat back in the booth and crossed her arms. "Thought we were being honest with each other?"

"Look, I don't want to talk about it here," Axel gestured at the old man at the other side of the dining area staring at them. He leaned closer, and under his breath, said, "my mom owes some money. I'm trying to dig her out of the hole before she kicks the bucket."

"What kind of debt?"

"Sab..."

"Just tell me."

"The house. The bills. Shit, before I met you, the city shut her water off. She's so fucked, she can't work. My dad left money when he died for her to retire, and she drank and partied it away. So, now I'm cleaning up that mess."

Sabi went quiet for a while, and Axel picked up his fork and combed through the remaining fries for bits of bacon.

"I'm sorry your mom was an alcoholic."

"Is an alcoholic," Axel corrected. "She'll always be one."

"Babe... You're amazing. Helping your mom like that is a testament to how generous and kind you are. I just wish you could help her more legitimately."

"Nothing more legitimate than cash, Sab. That, and how much I love you and need you to stay out of this. Let me figure it out. I don't want you at any more fights."

"Well, I don't want you at them either."

"I have to. I'm locked in for another three matches."

"What if I help you? I make decent money. I can help with her bills."

"You help enough already. Keep your money. It's done, babe. I'm in it for a little while, then I'm out. Maybe I'll go legit after, and you can come watch me fight."

"I've seen it. You're fierce. I never knew you could move that quickly."

"They don't call me Cobra for nothing."

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[besanii]

Hey, there was a time in the DH universe (before the not-so-fake engagement) when WWX chatted off ears of his siblings/friends about how good/gorgeous/whatever kind interesting Lan Zhan is which made them go like "are you crushing on him or what?" (with immidiate reply along the lines "What? No! I'm not sure we're even friends!")? Because if yes, that would be quite hilarious in hindsight... And so good ground for restlessness teasing... (Don't know why, but I see Wen Qing as the listener here.)

Part 17 | previous parts linked on sidebar!

“A-Xian, stop moving,” Jiang Yanli chides as she brushes his hair. “I can’t fix your hair like this.”

“Shijie,” Wei Wuxian whines, pouting at her through their reflections in the mirror. “You haven’t answered my question yet!”

She hums non-committally. “What question is that?”

“How did you know?” he cries, slapping his hands on the table. She frowns when the movement makes his head shift in an unwanted direction and moves him back into place with a firm hand. “Even I didn’t know!”

“Didn’t know what?” she asks, again in that non-committal tone. He huffs at her and juts his lower lip out even further. “A-Xian...you...aren’t the most subtle when it comes to your affections. Did you know that?”

But he’s like that with everyone! He’s an affectionate person by nature! He likes to hug and tease and joke with the people he considers his friends.That doesn’t explain how she knew his feelings for Lan Wangji were different.

His mother clicks her tongue at him from where she’s sitting beside the dressing table, wagging a finger in his direction.

“Look at this stupid child,” she exclaims, exasperation written all over her features. “There must be a hole in his brain."

"I got it from A-Niang," he mumbles.

She narrows her eyes at him. "What did you say?"

"Nothing, nothing!" He waves his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. "But I really don't remember. It mustn't have been anything serious."

The look they exchange over his head is a mixture of fondness and helplessness, much like you would give a particularly clumsy and disastrous child. A spark of indignation flares inside—it’s not his fault he’s forgetful! A lot of things happen around him, how is he meant to remember everything that happens ever? And besides, if he hadn’t been aware of his feelings back then, then why would he pay more attention to his behaviour towards Lan Wangji above everyone else? Their judgment of him really isn’t fair.

Jiang Yanli must sense his annoyance, because she reins in her expression, sets down the comb and sighs.

“A-Xian…” She steps around the chair he’s sitting on to rest a hand on his. “Do you remember that time you came back from attending Er-dianxia‘s forty-thousandth birthday banquet?”

He doesn’t, but in his defence, he remembers he’d been drunk. Curse Xiao Xingchen and his special plum blossom wine! Why would they even serve it at Lan Wangji’s birthday when the man himself doesn’t drink? All that good wine would have gone to waste if he hadn’t been there to help them out—

Oh. Oh no. He thinks he knows where this is going.

“What did I do?” he asks suspiciously.

He’s lying on the steps outside the den when they come outside to see what the commotion is about, arms and legs akimbo, squinting up at the roof of the cave through the darkness. His face lights up when he sees them and he gives them a dopey little smile.

“A-Niang! Shijie!” he slurs. “I’m home!”

“A-Xian!” Jiang Yanli rushes forward to help him into a sitting position. “What are you doing out here?”

His mother, on the other hand, gets a whiff of the alcohol wafting from his body, and kicks him in the shin; he groans and almost flops over in an attempt to get his leg away from her attack. She makes a face.

“Aren’t you meant to be attending a banquet at the Nine Heavens?” she asks. 

At the mention of the banquet, his face falls.

“Lan-laotouzi kicked me out,” he grumbles. “I didn’t even get to hear Lan Zhan play!”

He scratches his head, embarrassed. 

“I think I remember something like that,” he confesses. “But that doesn’t prove anything!”

His mother scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“It wouldn’t, no,” she agrees, “except you wouldn’t stop talking about him for the rest of the night.”

“I did not!” He looks to Jiang Yanli for support. “I didn’t, Shijie!”

She pats his hand sympathetically. “You did, A-Xian.”

He buries his face in his hands with a groan.

“It was pretty embarrassing,” his mother supplies helpfully. “You were waxing poetic about his fingers.”

“They’re so long,” he wails, holding out his own hands with his fingers splayed out before him. “How are they so long, Shijie?”

There’s a little chuckle from somewhere above him and he moves his fingers away to look up at her face. He’s lying with his head on her lap and she’s stroking his hair like she’s done since they were little. He loves her so much. She’s the bestest person in the whole world and no one can compare to her—except maybe Lan Wangji. Who is way too perfect for his own good. How can someone be so perfect?

“They’re so pretty too,” he sighs mournfully, covering his face with his hands and wondering if Lan Wangji could do the same with just one of his. “I wonder what they feel like.”

Jiang Yanli chokes. “A-Xian—”

“I bet they’re really strong,” he continues, oblivious to her coughing fit. “And smooth—oh but he plays the qin and he fights good, so they probably have calluses. His nails are so well-kept! Must be the qin—you can’t play the qin without growing out your nails, Shijie, did you know? I bet that’s why Lan Zhan plays so well. Or maybe his fingers are so nice because he plays so well. Or—”

“A-Xian,” she tries again with a laugh. “You really like Er-dianxia, don’t you?”

“Yup!” he says happily. She smiles and flicks his forehead.

“Have you told him then?”

“Yup!” he chirps again. “We’re getting married! The tree said so!”

He muffles a shriek into his hands. What the hell? Had he really been that embarrassing about Lan Wangji? For so long?

“Yes,” his mother tells him. “You were the only one who couldn’t see it.”

Damned mothers and their mind-reading skills! When had she learned telepathy? At least he can comfort himself in the knowledge that Lan Wangji hadn’t heard any of it at the time. Otherwise he would have been even more unsufferable than he’s been in the last few months! How is he supposed to face Lan Wangji now, knowing how he’d embarrassed himself before?

Lan Wangji must never know.

“Stupid child,” his mother scolds half-heartedly, reaching over to slap him on the arm. “You’ve been in love with Er-dianxia this whole time. Did you not know?”

“No, I haven’t!” he protests, and then wilts under her and Jiang Yanli’s combined scepticism. “Not...the whole time. I just liked him a lot! But who doesn’t, really? Everyone likes Lan Zhan!”

Jiang Yanli hums and pats his hand again in a way that seems almost placating, rather than in agreement. His mother, however, is less forgiving.

“But not everyone gets themselves engaged to him as a joke, and then goes through with it,” she says. “Honestly, Ying-er—”

“Cangse-shenshen,” Jiang Yanli interrupts gently, sensing Wei Wuxian’s growing agitation. “I think we should leave A-Xian to get some rest. He has a big day tomorrow.”

She nods her head at the red silks draped all over the room, the double happiness characters in bright red paper stuck on the walls, and then to the elaborate red and gold robes laid out on the bed. His mother sighs.

“You’re right,” she agrees. “I’m sure he’ll figure it out sooner or later. I hope Er-dianxia has enough patience before then.”

And then he’s left by himself, in his soon-to-be wedding chamber, surrounded by wedding decorations, his wedding robes and Lan Wangji running metaphorical circles around his head.

“Fuck,” he says with feeling.

Notes:

Shenshen (婶婶) - aunt, specifically your father’s younger brother’s wife

Previous parts and ko-fi link on my sidebar!

Wow, it’s been so long since I’ve written this verse I’m a little rusty haha. Sorry if anything sounds really weird, I’m still working out the kinks.

[killian-whump]

Hi! It’s me again, the anon with the messy ask xD I agree with you on everything. Sex seems to be messy and sticky and people don’t usually look very sexy doing it. I’m very glad that no partner is required for an orgasm as well xDI’m very curious so, if you want to share your important thoughts on men, sex and penises please do so. Personally I’m more interested in men from the waistline up. Although I don’t mind a nice butt ;-) (1/)

RIGHT RIGHT RIGHT?!?!?!?!?!?!

Like, sex is so UNsexy to me, it just looks... weird? Like, limbs all akimbo, poking out everywhere, like what do you do with your legs and arms and then when you do it with someone else, there's like TWICE the legs and arms and I'm sorry, but penises are so fucking dumb looking, I could have an entire blog dedicated to my thoughts about dicks looking ridiculous and weird at all possible times, seriously, don't even get me started.

And then men do weird things with them? Like wiggle them around and make them dance and grip them like "RAWR!" like as if they're not holding the world's stupidest flesh-colored eggplant in their fist? And then they take PHOTOS of the things and, like, SEND them to people, like am I supposed to laugh at this weird looking sprog or... oh, I'm supposed to be aroused and driven mad with desire for you? No, that's not happening over here. Instead, I'm wondering how you can walk through your life with a straight face knowing you have this weird creature hanging out in your trousers, like, ALL the time.

The only thing men do with their penises that seems like a valid use of their time is putting little hats on top of them and dressing them up like tiny little people. That's fun. If I had a penis, that's what I'd do with it.

Incidentally, my views on penises are super convenient, because a lot of submissive guys are into women belittling their penises. Only while most Dommes are like, "oh, this little worm isn't big enough to satisfy me" I'm just like "why the fuck do these things even exist" and break into a two hour long diatribe about the pointlessness of these ridiculous organs, I mean why do they even look like that and why do they... no, just WHY on all fronts, like you know the first sex didn't happen because a woman saw that thing and thought "I want that inside me somehow" but because the dude was just like, shoving it in literally everything and anything and the woman was like, "What the fuck are you doing, get that out of m-" when he accidentally bumped her clit and she was like, "Oh, whatever, I guess, okay" and now it's all just normal, allegedly, but mostly just the same thing anyway.

ANYWAY, I like men, though. I like them a lot. They're pretty great... from the waist up, exactly like you said. I mean, it's not like men ever have sexy legs or feet. They're just sort of there. But chests and backs and arms are nice, and yes, butts. I appreciate a good butt. They're nice to look at, when they're nice, and nice to smack the shit out of so they turn a nice pink/red color, yes, and fun to smack suddenly without warning, so the butt-owner gives a little jump of surprise and you can be like, "Hmm? What? Did something happen?" because that's fun.