#< I keep doing this but i can’t help and be acutely aware how difficult it is to get cute clothes for anyone who’s not thin

[dol-dee]

Fallen Sydney is definitely the type that enthusiastically buys all sorts of kinky outfits. For themself as much as their s/o haha

Sydney buying a bunch of outfits she really wants to see on Dee. Forgetting she will have to convince/beg her for weeks to actually wear them

[leothetraveler]

KALLAMB PART TWO

Kallamar sat in the shelter he and the lamb shared. He still had no idea how the lamb had talked his brother into letting him remain. Probably promised to hand him over, let Narinder have the kill themselves. That would be enough to stay his hand.

He sighed. Narinder would never get the chance. He had quietly worked with the lamb, explaining the details of usurping the crown and the consequences of ascension. They had made up their mind. They would take the crown for themselves. They would “end the Old Faith. All of it”.

Kallamar looked around the room. It was adequate. Soft bedding, elaborate drapes around the frame, crystal windowing, a nice rug on the floor…even a collection of his old tomes pilfered from his realm before any heretics could defile them. Any mortal would consider it high class…any mortal. He just wishes everything wasn’t red and themed around the lamb and it’s crown. would it kill them to allow him a rich sea blue?

Kallamar jumped as the lamb entered. “…Shamura is dead.” They said plainly, as if noting something mundane. Kallamar nodded solemnly. It was inevitable. To break the seal meant breaking the crowns. Kallamar had shattered his own willingly, but the others would not. Kallamar touched the tattered remnants of his left ear. Torn asunder, along with the right one, when they sealed Narinder away. Eternally bleeding ichor…till he, with the help of the lamb, severed his last connection to that blasted ritual. Not simply breaking the chain but unraveling it. Old wounds finally healed…through one last betrayal…

Kallamar felt the bedding shift and looked over to see the lamb face first in the sheets. “Was my sibling really that difficult? Even with their shattered mind?” the lamb groaned.

“First of all,” their words muffled through the sheets, “lucid or not, their domain was war. Of course they are going to put up a decent fight.” They lifted themself up to look at their consort. “And secondly, I had to deal with a hungry cult and a dissenter when I arrived. What has my loyal consort been doing all day?” they glared judgingly. Kallamar hated their glare. The lamb only fully dropped the mask around him…and it was often terrifying.

“I-I can’t help it if kitchen duties are beneath me!” He looked away as he made excuses, “And besides, you are the leader. Deciding out meals is your responsibility.” He dared to look back at the lamb. They were once again face down in the bed. Kallamar sighed. If they considered this tiring, perhaps they were not ready for ascension.

…

Kallamar pulled the lamb into his lap, holding them close. “wha- Kallamar-?”

“sshhhhh…relax. You’re stressed.” Kallamar cooed. “Let yourself relax. The Disciples will keep order for now. Hard to keep a happy face with pent up rage, after all~” The lamb groaned before letting themselves relax. “Since when did you become such an expert is godsitting?” Lamb teased.

Kallamar laughed at their weak jab. “My lamb~ did you forget I had the most consorts out of my family? I mean, the three you had to kill to get to me were just the latest three in a long line to hold the position. I learned a lot over the centuries on how to keep a god calm. When to respect their authority and when to “godsit” them.” Kallamar nuzzled the lamb’s head. Their wool was always so soft. They took excellent care of it.

“Hey,” Lamb spoke, “I never asked…why did you do it?”

“Pardon?” Kallamar began to sweat. They knew exactly what they were referring to. Lamb persisted. “The slaughter of my people…why did you do it? What was your excuse?”

Kallamar took a deep breath. This was always going to happen. He should speak plainly. “Fear. It was an almost mortal response.” Kallamar almost chuckled at the absurdity of his own actions in hindsight. “I, more than the rest, was acutely aware that our reign would not be eternal. Nothing lasts forever. Not even the gods. We proved that when we killed the others. Our time would come…but I was still scared. Scared of death…scared of him. Of what my brother would do to me if I was at his mercy…mercy. Something he didn’t have.”

Kallamar began to shake in fear. The thoughts of what his family were going through racing through his mind. his family. His brother, sister, and now sibling all suffering the wrath of someone sealed for a thousand years with nothing to do but imagine new tortures.

Kallamar’s thoughts were interrupted as his face was enveloped by wool. He hadn’t noticed lamb sit up and turn to face him. “Now, now, my dear consort. No more of that. That cruel kitty can’t hurt you while I’m still here.” It was Kallamar’s turn to relax, sinking into their lord’s chest wool. The two sat together, enjoying the quiet of each other’s embrace.

…

…

Lamb spoke first, “Alright. We need to get up.” Lamb tried to get up, only to be pulled back in by Kallamar. “five more minutes, dear?” He pleaded with begging eyes. They didn’t work on Lamb. “No, no. You have to get up too.” Lamb grabbed Kallamar as they hopped off the bed, forcing the squid to either stand or fall. “The cauliflower bowls I was forced to quickly make have made some followers sick. And YOU oversee the sick bay, remember?” Kallamar grumbled. Stupid followers and their sensitive stomachs. “Fine,” he lamented, “but before you leave me to languish for your flock…there is something I need.” The lamb turned quizzically and was greeted by Kallamar’s lips on theirs. It lasted less than a second before the squid quickly tried, and failed, to make a hasty exit. But the Lamb had managed to snag his robes.

“Oh no you don’t~. get back here and do it properly!” Lamb demanded, pulling him back to them for a second, proper kiss. Kallamar felt himself melt into the Lamb’s embrace. He could not remember the last time he shared such a genuine kiss. When he finally stepped back, he saw the most genuine smile on the lamb’s face. Where he had only ever seen a devil, Kallamar beheld an angel in white.

“To think, I would fall for the most pathetic of my murderers~” Lamb jested in an almost singsong tone. As they tried to leave, Kallamar stopped them in turn. They were side by side, neither seeing the others’ face as he held their arm. “…so…I am consort in more than name?” he asked, fearing a no but praying for a yes.

“Yes,” Lamb replied. “I suppose you are…now, enough chitchat.” The lamb pulled themselves free and adjusted their fleece. “We have work to do, Kallamar. We can save the intimacy for later, when the cult sleeps.” With that, the Lamb exited to face the flock once more.

Kallamar stood alone for a moment in their tent. “…promise?” He chuckled to himself before leaving. For the first time in ages, he was looking forward to something.

[rambling-madwoman]

Midnight Cinderella Character Notes

My character notes for the midcin suitors. I haven't played all their routes and these will probably change and update as I'm writing & as I acquire more info. Some creative liberties/interpretations inevitable. I've also added some notes for the Princess I'm writing, Lettie.

Updating :) Worked out my notes more in the editing process. So far I have Louis & Lettie done (for now). I've expanded on the other suitors a bit but they're not done & I need to go through the routes more to pin down specifics. I left the notes I had and I'll update as they're done :)

The 'relationship' section for the suitors is how I think they are around love, in relationships in general. I have further notes about how they are with Lettie but that's just plot isn't it? Secrets secrets.

Loretta “Lettie” or “Etta” Vachon – Local medicine woman? Witch?

Personality/Background - Born in the Wysterian countryside, raised with her brother by a single mother who worked as a ladies maid. Lettie spent most of her time looking after the children of the family her mother worked for. After the death of her mother, Lettie was left alone to raise Theo. The master of the household sent them away with a sum of money, which Lettie spent almost entirely on small house in the capital. Finding work enough to survive was difficult but Lettie made herself useful to neighbors who began coming to her for the skills she had learned from her mother. (I have to nail this down more specifically, think masking gallic polytheistic practices with catholic saints/practices to go under the radar during the crusades.) As Lettie became more involved with their lives and making more money, it created rumors of witchcraft. Lettie fed into it, creating a reputation that kept people away while keeping a network of trustworthy clients.

Her personality lends itself well to the witch rumors. Ornery, blunt, more often than not rude or sarcastic. Beneath that, she’s been a caretaker since a young age and it runs deep in her. The loss of her mother and the family she had grown up caring for made her acutely aware of how much it can hurt to love people, but she can’t help herself. She can’t turn her back on people, even if she’s swearing at you and scolding the entire time. Voice - Her family was very involved with the family they served, Lettie and Theo both had access to their library. Lettie’s accent is prominent, either softly pronouncing h’s or not at all, putting emphasis on the last syllables of words, and having a rising intonation at the end of statements. Doesn’t use qualifiers, is always sure before she speaks. Appearance - Overall narrow & lithe build. Despite her nature her features are delicate, if you can notice it under her glare. Almond shaped brown eyes, so dark they’re almost black, usually narrowed in scrutiny. Short, straight brows & covered in freckles head to toe. Long ashy brown hair she’s been cutting herself, so it’s not even.

Louis Howard - Duke

Personality/Background - Cold, distant, bored, & apathetic front. Really he’s entirely cynical, disillusioned, and broken down. He’s not self hating, beyond thinking himself a coward. He’s more motivated by the fear of letting anything true or genuine slip about him. He does have a sense of humor somewhere in there, it’s just buried and it takes knowing him a long while before he’ll let that slip. Rude, sarcastic bitch. Even defrosted there are some things that don’t change.

He doesn’t do anything half assed. Even things he doesn’t want to do. His entire wounded heart is in everything he does from the moment he decides it.

Background isn’t super clear. He says he was kidnapped maybe. He probably at least feels that way as he just went to bed an orphan and literally woke up in the Duke’s manor. Sid says Louis was “paid for” and the orphanage “sold him off.” But a couple paying money to an orphanage and getting a kid is just kind of adoption it’s not really kidnapping. Either way Louis is high key traumatized so I think there is more to it. The world of nobility is cruel sure but my man is having full body responses & projecting his trauma onto a chick he literally just met. What happened to you baby. Voice - Light and elegant, but tendency to be flat to the point of monotone. Tendency to mutter that has never been entirely trained out of him. Not very deep but his emotion can become very apparent in it, particularly anger. Appearance - He’s so gorgeous he looks like he was carved from smooth marble, too bad he’s about as stiff as it too. High cheek bones, heart shaped face. Heavy lidded bright blue eyes & pretty lashes, but they lend themselves well to glaring. I’m looking at a picture of him and what is his hairstyle? Straight, golden blonde hair that he chronically puts off cutting, so it always ends up hanging in his eyes. There’s a statuesque quality to his body as well, that soft marble sort of look that makes him both chiseled and delicate. The plane of his chest is smooth and firm but his waist has a bit of a curve to it, slight wrists, lean legs.

He doesn’t mind being told his face is pretty, but he actually hates to have his body called pretty, smooth, anything that implies it’s feminine or boyish. Makes him self conscious. (He also never grows facial hair, Sid does and he won’t let him forget it)

Updating...

Albert Burckhardt - knight, advisor

Strong moral, chivalric code. Impeccably skilled & serious but can be flustered. He can be playful but it comes out more in competitiveness, teasing, bickering. Can't really show he cares directly.

“You come across like you're cool and collected but you're a big ball of crazy under there aren't you?” Repressed emotions, he's intense and its not that far below the surface. Even when he's sweet he's intense.

Giles Christophe - Chamberlain

He seems strict but he's hardworking. Playful & flirtatious, no that's not just with the Princess it's how he is. Subtle flair for dramatics but also he’s a wine mom. Kind of a worrier. There’s a Tamaki Suoh vibe in there somewhere.

Lettie wants to be more like him, the way he can see a path forward and maneuver it. More graceful. I gotta re read his route I didn't like it at the time lol

Alyn Crawford - Captain

Grumpy Jock refuses to admit his own feelings to himself, often. Until they reach a fever pitch. Tsundere, would really rather blame you for whatever he feels.

Not possessive, more so easily jealous and very needy. Don’t look at anyone else. You know when a dog doesn’t look like they like being pet but then they growl if you stop?

There goes the captain. And his charge who doesn't have to listen to him.

Sid Arnault - "information dealer"

His title sounds like something he made up. We know what he does, he's supposed to manage the Grandier estate. Is "information dealing" (read: extortion, espionage) a family business or does Sid do this to have his own $, not the Grandiers?

Arrogant and doesn't really give a shit about about anyone but himself. But at the same time he doesn't actually think all that highly of himself. Smarter and thinking more long term than he would let on. It just so happens that long term includes primarily get money, get bitches.

Lettie challenges him, they insult each other back and forth as greetings. He never cares what anyone thinks, why is he obsessing over what Lettie thinks or how she reacts to him? Internal panic.

Nico Meier - Advisor?

Given how Byron came to rule Stein, it wouldn't be surprising if Albert & Nico's positions are a given. They don't have official titles outside of whatever is most advantageous for them to move politically. "Advisor" sort of suits Albert but Nico feels more like a shadowy left hand.

Cheeky bastard, more of a flirt the more he knows someone. Knows he's adorable, manipulative little shit. Loves hard, he will die to prove himself to you.

At first he’s a cute distraction, but she feels more seriously for him when he shows more competence & skill.

Robert Branche - Court Painter

Seems even keeled but actually has a quiet, dark intensity. More pessimistic & cynical than he lets on. I gotta get his route because I need to know more about his deal.

She doesn't need him. She sees all sides of him, not just the warm front. She is patient when he is bitter and dark. Doesnt try to change him, lets him deal with things how he does.

Rayvis Harneit - Archduke

Cool and composed, “does everything perfectly.” Ok so he’s probably a freak under that, right? Controlling. He can keep his emotions under control but when they get more intense he has no idea what to do with them.

Lettie is stubborn, calls bullshit on his persona constantly. He’s not used to being challenged. He falls for her hard and it is completely out of his control and he is not being normal about it.

Leo Crawford - Bureaucrat

hyperintelligent nerd. Very well read, knows something about everything, and will charge for his knowledge in kisses. Playful flirt but he’s got a mean streak when he gets angry.

Leo doesn't work well with a lady, he needs an equal he can be unhinged and playful with. He gets bored easy.

Byron Wagner - 👑

Entirely left brained, to a fault. Thinks for efficiency not emotionally. Has a sense of humor though.

Hot/cool. He's shocking ice or refreshing water, she's fireworks or the burn of alcohol in your chest

Notes on their relationships -

Byron, Al, & Nico - Bastard, Bitch, & Baby. They can turn it on and be the indomitable trio of Stein, but really they’re always 3 brothers competing and messing with each other. Albert can pretend he’s above it but he is not.

Yes Nico & Al fight over who loves Byron more. Yes they will try to prove it.

Giles, Alyn, Sid, Leo, Louis - Why do I kind of feel like they’re friends. They have to deal with each other for work, they have little work/life distinction, turns into drinks after work… turns into god damn dude i been around you too long.

Giles is the wine mom friend, he knows exactly how the rest will fuck up before they do it, and he will say I told you so afterwards. Alyn is supposed to be his rock, but his temper will get the better of him. Alyn feels the same way about Giles, but Giles lets his stress get the better of him.

Alyn and Sid get along, and I can see it but I don't quite know why. In game Alyn can read that Sid is actually panicking when the MC is kidnapped even though in text he seems calm.

Leo & Giles are prone to the same vices of women & alcohol, so Leo loves to be the devil on his shoulder. Leo & Sid are a deadly combination when together, especially if left alone.

Fight on sight with Leo & Alyn. Leo will be a snarky dick and Alyn will start swinging. But they still know each other better than anyone else & can read each other a mile away.

Sid & Louis are the eternal bickering married couple. Louis says he hates him and he does, but he loves him too.

For some reason I feel like Louis & Leo would get along. Leo is 20% more chill with Louis & he appreciates that. Louis is no bullshit, hates the stupid games nobles play, and Leo appreciates that. Fuck everybody else, I respect you.

[itsyourchoicedevotionals]

‘The Whine’

“…Encamped at Rephidim; …there was no water for the people to drink. Therefore, the people contended with Moses, and said, Give us water that we may drink. And Moses said to them, Why do you find fault with me? Why do you tempt the Lord and try His patience? But the people thirsted there for water, and the people murmured against Moses…” Exodus 17:1-3AMPC

During this public fast, God has gotten up close and personal with me. I’ve asked why healing hasn’t manifested? What door have I left open? And then I heard— ‘I can’t,’ ‘murmuring and complaining.’ Negative speech is very subtle.

Rephidim was a place of testing. Israelites with certain Egyptians had just passed through the Red Sea on dry land. They’d watched the Egyptian army drown in the midst of the sea— note: which they’d just walked across. Couldn’t they possibly have thought that just remotely it was feasible God could bring them water from the dry ground? Where were their positive imaginations?

Dad used to have me carry buckets of water out to the tomato plants. I’d whine, ‘I can’t.’ At first he’d take the bucket from me. Later he’d encourage me, ‘you can do it.’ ‘I can’t,’ followed me and many others into adulthood. But why can’t we? Like the Israelites, we’ve had miracles from God, some small, some large. Yet with each new test, too often I say ‘I can’t take this;’ ‘I can’t do this.’

As a Believer, God doesn’t want to hear the whine, ‘I can’t.’ Why can’t we? “I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.” Philippians 4:13ESV.

Yahweh is capable of enabling each of us. Even “walk through the valley of the shadow of death” Psalm 23:4KJV. He supports and strengthens us.

The biggest struggle today, for people I know, seems to be financial. Daily we’re running into higher gasoline prices; inflation on every product; food prices skyrocketing. It’s difficult seeing needs met, imagining for more than enough. I get it. Today I noticed, a product Lou and I use frequently, has spiked 300%. I understand the struggle, it’s crazy. But that’s no reason to fear, whine or say ‘I can’t take it.’ We have His promise—He’ll supply for us, promised to take care of our needs, to provide for us. “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? …So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ …But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” Matthew 6:25, 31, 33NIV

Have you taken His promises seriously? Have you relied upon Christ Jesus to supply for you? Give you strength? Patience? Help? Hope? He’s promised all of these things. We’re to trust Him not be full of murmuring and complaining, doing ‘the whine.’ Tell Him and yourself the next time— ‘I can.’ See how great He is in assisting. It’s your choice. You choose.

LET’S PRAY: LORD God forgive me for becoming lax and worldly doing the whine. Please make me acutely aware of the words headed out of my mouth. Others are praying this with me, help us Lord we pray, in the name of Jesus Christ.

by Debbie Veilleux Copyright 2024 You have my permission to reblog this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional, as author. Thank you.

[angelicyoongie]

Out of the Woods (II)

— pairing: wolf hybrid namjoon x human f!reader — genre: fluff, angst, slight smut — word count: 5.5K — warnings: injury, blood, mentions of past abuse — summary: Promising Jihyo that you were going to stay away from your writing for one weekend had been easy in theory, but much harder to actually do once you reached the little cabin the woods. To make matters worse, the only thing that rivals your inability to keep promises is your terrible luck – and after a particularly bad choice leads you to get lost in the mountains, you suppose that it's only karma that you end up face to face with a wolf that looks ready to rip your throat out.

Part I / II / III

You stare at the hand wrapped tightly around yours as the wolf hybrid leads you down the rest of the slope. You can still feel the imprint of his chest against your back, the lingering heat from his body still wrapped around yours. The ghost of his raspy, smooth voice brushing over your ear, his words branded into your chest.

Please don’t leave me.

You wince with each step, the dull pain in your ankle growing harder to ignore. You can see the muscles in his golden arms tense as your step falters, the wolf hybrid’s grip tightening before you can stumble down the last stretch of the incline. He’s keeping your hand almost at height with his shoulders, making it easier for you to borrow some support as you hobble forward.

You keep yourself focused on his hand, on how his long and slender fingers are enveloping yours. They’re a little rough against your skin, but they’re still pretty. Your cheeks are flushed red as you limp forward, but you blame that on the near death experience you just had – and certainly not on the hybrid’s thumb absentmindedly running over your knuckles every few steps. And it’s definitely not because the man in front of you is completely naked. The close proximity means that the expanse of the hybrid’s broad back fills most of your vision, but you’re not willing to take any chances. His body isn’t there for you to ogle at. So, his hand is a good, safe, place for you eyes to latch on to. The hybrid clearly doesn’t have any qualms about his lack of clothes, and it makes you wonder just how long he’s been out here on his own – how long he’s been alone.

You swallow thickly as the ground underneath your feet begins to flatten out, the strain on your ankle becoming a little less painful. You can probably walk on your own now, but it doesn’t seem like the wolf hybrid has any plans of letting you do that, his fingers wrapping even more firmly around yours as you try to let go of his hand. You see a few faint marks on the inside of his wrist, but the angle his hold your hand makes it too difficult to make anything out. If anything, it’s likely just some scratches from the wilderness. You can’t help but notice that one of his gray ears seem to be permanently turned in your direction, only twitching when you let out little huffs of air.

He hasn’t spoken since he uttered those four words – not since he begged you to stay, and the only thing you could think to do was shakily step out of his embrace and ask him to bring you back down. You can’t stay. You're not quite sure why the realization makes you feel so torn. Sure, the hybrid has taken care of you, but you don’t really know him. Hell, you don’t even know his name. But still, your heart stutters painfully as you remember the desperation in his voice, the subdued whine that escaped his lips as you pulled away. The hybrid had only given you a curt nod in response to your request, his back turned to you and hand outstretched before you could even get a good look on his face.

You sneak a quick peek at his profile as he helps you along the path, your breath getting caught in your throat as you catch a glimpse of his strong jaw and oh no, is that a dimple? The wolf hybrid’s silver ears and messy hair compliments his sunkissed skin beautifully, and there is no doubt in your mind that this man must be stunning. Maybe it’s a good thing you haven’t gotten a good look at his face yet, getting weak in the knees sounds like bad plan when you’re already one foot down. You quickly push the thoughts away, turning your attention back to the forest in front of you. You swear something about it looks a little more familiar than before. You only need to hobble through the forest for another few minutes before you realize why.

The wolf hybrid has lead you straight to the lake you and Jihyo passed two days ago, the exact one you were trying to find when you managed to get lost. The weather might be slightly gloomier today, but it still looks absolutely breathtaking as you draw closer. The tension in your shoulders ease up as you realize just how close you are to the cabin, it probably won’t take much longer than an hour to get back even with your throbbing foot. Which is great, but the release of tension also makes you acutely aware of just how irritated your ankle truly is, and it feels like it might break clean off if you don’t get a break soon.

“Can we, uh, rest for a little while? My foot ..” You trail off uncertainly, watching as the hybrid’s head cocks in your direction. He stops in his tracks, ears swivelling around rapidly as he listens to the forest, his grip still tight around yours. He gives you another nod after a few seconds of silence, steering you carefully over to a fallen log. You close your eyes in relief as you sit down, a groan falling from your lips as you finally get the chance to alleviate the pressure on your ankle.

“Thank you,” You murmur, glancing down at your foot as you try to best position to rest it in. You freeze as you see the wolf hybrid’s bare feet out of the corner of your eye, heat creeping up your neck as you realize the position you’ve put yourself in. You’re at eye-level with his dick. There’s no way to look up at him without seeing it, and that’s not something you want to deal with right now.

“Here," You hastily shrug off your windbreaker, offering it out for the hybrid with a grimace, “you can use it to cover up.” Rough fingers brush over your own as the wolf hybrid grabs your jacket, presumably–hopefully–wrapping it around his waist as you keep your eyes firmly on the ground. You don’t dare lift your gaze until the hybrid sinks down on the log next to you with a huff, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest as you find his eyes already locked onto your face. 

The wolf hybrid is beautiful. Your lips part open in surprise as you take in his face, the slight pout to his lips and the gentleness in his expression leaving you a little breathless. He looks kind. Sweet. You don’t understand how someone like him could be left out here all alone.

“I-I'm sorry,” The wolf hybrid cowers under your stunned gaze, his ears falling flat against his head. “Should I stay .. wolf? You upset,” His voice is hoarse and pained as he stutters out his words, his lips forming awkwardly around the syllables. The intention behind his words hits you like a slap to the face. He thinks you don’t like his human form, and he’s willing to turn back to not make you upset.

“No!” You blurt, “I mean, I’m uh, not upset. If you want to, please stay in your human form. It’s nice to be able to talk to you.” The wolf hybrid doesn’t quite seem to believe you, his ears pressing even flatter against his head as he shakes his head.

“What’s your name?” 

The hybrid's mouth is pressed into a thin line, and for a second you think he might not answer, but then he mutters out a soft, “Namjoon.”

“Namjoon?” You echo, finding you like the way his name rolls off your tongue. The wolf hybrid’s ears perk up at the sound of his name, the bushy tail behind his back doing a startled wag as Namjoon’s eyes find yours. You give him a soft smile, rubbing your hands nervously at your thighs as you finally ask the question that has been burning away at your curiosity for the past few hours.

“Why are you out here all alone?” The muscles in Namjoon's shoulders tense at your question, the warmth in his golden brown eyes hardening into something you can’t quite decipher. The wolf hybrid looks ready to bolt any second, his eyes flickering around the forest as he says, “Ran way .. bad place. No going back.”

You detest that you’re not even surprised, that the mistreatment of hybrids is so common that it has become almost more normal than treating them like actual human beings. The wolf hybrid looks to be your age, maybe even a little older, and it makes your stomach drop to think about just how many years he must’ve spent out here in his animal form for speech to become this hard – for it to become a struggle.

“I’m so sorry Namjoon, it must’ve been hard being all alone up here,” Your fingers twitch against your thigh, resisting the urge to reach out for him.

“Not alone now, have you,” Namjoon’s raspy voice sends a shiver down your spine, the certainty laced with his next word making your heart skip a beat. “Pack.” The wolf hybrid carefully reaches out for your hand, slowly wrapping his fingers around yours as he watches your mind trying to process his words.

You know it normally takes a long time for a hybrid to consider someone, especially humans, to be a part of their pack, so the fact that Namjoon refers to you as his after only a few days leaves you stunned – and a little bit out of your depth. Then again, Namjoon’s situation isn’t exactly normal. Usually hybrids are much more in-tune with both their human and animal side, but from what you can gather, it doesn’t seem like Namjoon has tapped into his humanity in years. It would make sense for his animal instincts to be more dominant, for doubt and hesitation to take a backseat. But still, his pack?

You catch the slight motion as the wolf hybrid’s eyes stray to your neck, the memory hitting you at full force now that you realize the implications behind your actions. In the midst of your panic when you thought Namjoon was going to tear you limb from limb, you had bared you neck. You had submitted. And Namjoon had accepted you. You wince, sucking in a deep breath as unease swirls in your stomach. Even if you weren’t aware of what you were doing at the time, this is still your fault. You really want to fix this whole mess, but you fear that the one thing you can’t do for him, is the only thing the hybrid wants.

“Namjoon,” You hesitate as you feel his tail wag happily against the log, the words feeling heavy on your tongue as you say, “I can’t stay.” A lull falls over the forest as the rhythmic thumping stops, the grip around your hand slackening as the wolf hybrid hangs his head.

He keeps his eyes on the ground as he whispers out a broken, “Don’t go.” You feel your heart ache as you watch him open and close his mouth, the furrow between his brows deepening as he can’t seem to find the words he needs. “Take care of you. Please.” You think it might hurt less if you just let the wolf hybrid rip you to shreds instead, the pained desperation in his voice making you eyes sting.

“I’m sorry,” You mutter, “I need to go home.” The word leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. Home. At the start of your trip you couldn’t wait to return to your apartment, but when you really think about it, have you ever truly considered it home? Sure, you've managed to make it nice and cozy over the last years, but there’s no warmth there, no sense of belonging. Still – you can’t stay here in the mountains.

Namjoon’s ears are pressed flat against his head, his expression turning blank as he withdraws his hand. “Okay,” The wolf hybrid’s jaw is tense as he stares out at the lake, his gaze empty and distant. You ignore the throbbing in your foot as you clamber back up to your feet, taking a few steps forward as you take in the sight of the lake for the last time. The scattered wildflowers don’t seem as charming anymore, and the large body of water suddenly feels more imposing than welcoming. You freeze as Namjoon lets out a low groan, the sound suddenly transforming into a whimper behind your back. You nearly jolt out of your skin as something wet touches your hand, a warm breath spilling across your fingers as you look down. You meet Namjoon’s golden eyes, the wolf letting out a small huff before he nudges your windbreaker closer to your feet. You don’t know why it feels like a defeat that he transformed back, but you can’t shake the hollow feeling in your chest as you thread your fingers into his fur, jacket wrapped around your waist as he leads you back to the cabin.

The wolf’s ears starts to flicker a few minutes before you can pick up Jihyo’s frantic speech in the distance, the dark roof of the cabin coming into view. You’re a little off the trail, the forest much denser around this side of the clearing. Namjoon suddenly halts as he reaches the edge, and you wince from the extra force on your foot as you stumble to catch yourself. The wolf’s tail is tucked between his legs, a pitiful whimper filling the silence as you gently untangle your hand from his fur. You brush it down carefully, already missing the coarse yet soft hairs tickling against your skin as you take a step back.

“Thank you Namjoon,” You swallow around the lump in your throat, forcing your lips into a soft smile as you gaze down at him. The wolf turns his head back to the forest, golden eyes scanning the area before he quickly pushes his head against your hand, guiding your palm over the fur between his ears. Your knees go weak with fondness as you pat his head, the wolf swiping his tongue over the exposed skin of your wrist as you scratch behind his ears. It’s Namjoon that reluctantly pulls away first, his golden eyes soft yet sad as he pushes his snout one last time against your palm. He sits down with a huff, turning his head in the direction of the cabin. The message is clear; he’s not leaving until you are. The goodbye grows and dies in your mouth, your lips refusing to let it slip past as you look down at him. You spare him one last glance, trying to commit as much of him to memory as you can, before you stumble out of the tree line.

It only takes a few steps before you hear Jihyo’s shrill, “Y/n!” and you watch as your friend sprints across the field to meet you. Jihyo knocks into you so hard you nearly topple over, her arms wrapped around your body so tightly you almost fear she’ll squeeze you to death.

“Where were you? What happened? Oh my god, you’re hurt!–” You let Jihyo’s concerned rambling distract you from the empty feeling in your stomach, each step feeling heavier than the last as she helps you walk back to the cabin. You spare one last glance over your shoulder, hoping to maybe see a flash of silver through the trees, but there’s nothing.

Namjoon is gone.

And you’re both alone again.

It was all a rush after you returned. Jihyo had been searching for you night and day, a few of her father’s best employees helping out. The road up to the cabin had been cleared, so instead of having to trek down on your sprained ankle, Jihyo had whisked you away in a car with the destination set for the closest hospital. It took a while before you could collect your thoughts enough to tell her what happened, the words sounding ridiculous even to your own ears as you retold the story.

Jihyo had a deep frown on her face from the hospital to your apartment, uncharacteristically silent as she helped you to your couch. Sinking down on the mountain of plush pillows felt like heaven after sleeping on the ground for two nights, your limbs tired and aching. You really need a shower, but the temptation to rest your foot for an hour is frankly too strong. You watch as Jihyo raids your fridge for drinks and food, the frown not leaving her lips until you’ve stuffed your face with a sandwich.

“Why didn’t you just ask him to come with you?” You nearly choke on a piece of bread at her sudden question, quickly taking a sip of water to chase it down.

“What do you mean?” You croak.

“Well, it’s not like he specifically asked you to stay up in the mountains right? He only asked that you would stay with him. I’m not sure how much I like this, but he did take care of you, and he brought you back safely. If he wanted to hurt you he had many opportunities to do so,” Jihyo purses her lips, her eyes flickering around the room. 

"You seem .. smitten. I can remember the last time you looked so fond talking about someone else. It seems like he already considers you to be his pack, so if you want to, I don’t see any harm in asking him to come home with you,” You feel a steady blush rise in your cheeks as Jihyo talks, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of having Namjoon here in your apartment. You couldn’t ..

"It’s not natural or healthy for hybrids to be alone and shifted for such a long time, so you would honestly be doing him a favour. Even if he doesn’t stay with you, he needs to get checked-up.” You find yourself nodding along to Jihyo’s words before you can stop yourself, her eyebrows rising in amusement. She is right, after all. Even if Namjoon doesn’t want to stay, it’s important to make sure he’s healthy. Even you go in for yearly check-ups, and you’re sure it’s been far too long since Namjoon did the same. You have to go back and find him.

“But–” Jihyo presses a finger to your chest, “you’re not going anywhere yet. The doctor said full rest for a week, so that’s what you’re going to do.” She shakes her head before you can protest, giving you a stern look as she says, “You’re in no condition to go after him now, you need to heal up if you want to find him again. I’ve seen enough animal planet to know that wolves have pretty big territories, and you won’t be able to cover that much ground with a sprained ankle.” You sink back down in the couch with a disgruntled sound, hating the fact that she’s completely right. You’ll have to wait until you’ve healed. You just hope it won’t be too late.

“Namjoon?” You wince at the rawness in your throat, your voice ringing through the silent forest. You’ve been out here for hours, but no matter where you go, there’s no sign of the wolf hybrid. You even managed to get back to the little cave Namjoon had brought you to, but that too was completely untouched. The only trail you had is dead. The area you’ve ventured into is much denser and harder to navigate, but you refuse to leave until you find him.

You grumble under your breath as a branch almost whacks you straight in the face, and you push it away with a little more force than necessary as you trek on deeper into the woods. Your ankle has healed up nicely, but there’s still a dull ache from the amount of walking you’re putting yourself through. The sprain wasn’t all that bad; it was mostly just the fact that you kept aggravating it that made it so painful. A week of rest did you wonders, and a little bit of discomfort is a price you’re more than willing to pay if it means you’ll find Namjoon again.

“Namjoon?” You call out again, halting in your tracks as you strain to listen for any sounds out of the ordinary. You let out a sigh at the silence that greets you, shaking your head lightly as you take a step forward. You freeze as your foot connect with the ground, a distant howl echoing through the forest. Namjoon.

You can barely even hear the second howl over the frantic beat of your own heart as you take off, stumbling and tripping over roots and twigs as you run in what you hope is the right direction. The mountain is disorienting at best, but you have no fear of getting lost this time. Jihyo made sure you would be properly prepared. 

It’s not until the fourth howl that you realize two things – one, the sound is much closer than you anticipated, and two, it sounds pained. You urge your legs to move faster, your gaze shifting wildly over your surroundings as you call out for him again. You swear you see a flash of silver behind a cluster of trees, and you quickly switch your direction, running straight for what you hope is the wolf hybrid.

“Namjo–” You choke as you skid to a stop, your stomach dropping so fast it leaves you feeling dizzy.

Blood. There’s so much blood. Namjoon’s gray fur is stained with it, the hairs matted and red. You can see the rusted metal of an old bear trap clamped tightly around one of his hind legs, the bone snapped in an awkward angle. Oh god. A pained whine rips you out of your building panic, and the sight of the wolf hybrid attempting to drag himself closer to you despite the trap on his leg finally jolts you back into action.

“No no no, stay still!” You cry as you scramble forward, your stomach doing a dangerous flip as the metallic scent of Namjoon’s blood washes over you. The wolf hybrid is panting as you drop to your knees in front of him, his ears plastered against his skull as he lets out low whimper.

“It-it’s going to be okay,” You hear your voice tremble as you reach out for his head, gently cupping his cheeks between your hands. Namjoon lets the tension in his neck drop the moment you get your hands on him, his head heavy in your hold as you run your fingers over his fur. The wolf hybrid’s body is shaking, his golden eyes barely open as he lets out another whine. You have no idea how many hours he’s been like this, but it’s been too long. He's lost way too much blood.

“You’re going to be fine Namjoon,” You swallow down the bile in your throat as you shuffle around, shifting your hold to gently place his head in your lap. He immediately tries to shuffle closer, not giving up until he’s plastered against your stomach.

“Just, don’t shift, okay? Please don’t shift,” You hastily dig your burrowed phone out of your pocket, vision blurry as you type in Jihyo’s number. Seeing Namjoon’s human form might make it easier to gauge his injuries, but if he shifts while he’s still trapped, you have no doubt it’s just going to tear his leg up even more. 

He lets out a whine as you hands leave his fur, his eyes almost rolled back into his head from the pain. The leg that’s trapped doesn’t even twitch, and Namjoon’s body feels horribly cold as you hurry to run your hands over his fur.

“Y/n? Did you find him?” Jihyo’s voice has never sounded more angelic than when she picks up the phone, you body sagging with relief.

“You can track my location, right? It’s Namjoon–” You force down the sob bubbling in your throat as the wolf hybrid whimpers at the sound of his name, the sound soft and weak. “–he’s hurt.”

“Excuse me,” You whip your head up at the sound of someone clearing their throat, a rather frazzled nurse standing in front you. “Are you here with the wolf hybrid? Kim Namjoon?”

“I am. Is something wrong?” You push out of the plastic chair with a wince, ignoring the queasy feeling in your stomach. It’s been hours since you arrived at the hospital, but the image of Namjoon’s blood pooling around his body doesn’t seem to want to let go of you just yet.

“He’s–" The nurse let out a deep sigh, “I think you need to come with me.” She turns on her heel, motioning for you to follow without another word. Oh god, what if he’s dead? The wolf hybrid had been rushed into an emergency operation immediately upon arrival, so there wasn’t much else that you could do than wait. Hope that he would be okay. 

You hurry after the nurse, nearly tripping over your own feet at quick speed she keeps as she marches down the hall. You’ve barely managed to catch up when she halts outside a door, an exasperated expression on her face as she says, “We’re keeping him under observation for now and he’s not really supposed to have any visitors yet, but he’s being … difficult.” You jump as something clatters to the ground inside the room, the deep growl hardly even muffled by the closed door.

“He’s a still a little out of it, but not dangerous. You’ll see what I mean,” With that, the nurse pushes the door open, stepping aside to allow you entry into Namjoon’s room. You suck in a breath as you step inside, the floor littered with scattered papers and trays. Namjoon is perched up in bed, a heavy cast around his leg. Whatever they were trying to do, the wolf hybrid obviously wasn’t having it. He’s twisted towards the doctor by his side, the man keeping a good distance from the injured hybrid as he let out another harsh growl. You stare in shock as Namjoon bares his teeth, his posture rigid and tense as he eyes the doctor distrustfully. The doctor notices you before Namjoon does, a soft 'thank god' muttered under his breath as he waves for you to come closer.

“Hey Namjoon,” The wolf hybrids nose wrinkles just as your soft voice carries across the room, his ears springing up on his head as he shifts his attention to you.

“Y/n,” Namjoon’s eyes light up as he catches sight of you, his hands practically tearing up the bed sheets as he tries to untangle himself. The action feels awfully familiar to when he tried to drag himself closer despite the bear trap, and you have no intention of watching him trying to walk on his broken leg.

“I thought I told you to stop moving,” You rush forward before he can get himself fully out of bed, pushing him back with a firm shove to his chest. Namjoon falls back without protest, his wide eyes scanning over your face as a loopy smile blooms on his lips.

“Sorry,” He rasps as he engulfs your hand with his, keeping it tucked securely against his body. You can feel the steady thrum of his heart against your palm, beating in rhythm with the soft beeps from the monitor he’s hooked up to.

“We were trying to explain to Mr. Kim that we need to do some tests, but he doesn’t quite seem to share the same sentiment,” The doctor glances back towards the door as a the nurse brings in a new tray of equipment, a weary frown on his face as he picks up a shot. The growl builds in Namjoon’s throat so fast you nearly jump out of your skin, the hold he has around your hand feels like he’s two seconds away from snapping it in half.

“It’s okay, it’s just some standard shots,” You hesitantly bring your hand up to his face, slowly turning his head back in your direction.

“You haven’t had check-ups in a while right?” The wolf hybrid shakes his head, his ears twitching as his attention flickers back and fourth between you and the doctor. “It’s just to make sure you stay healthy.” Namjoon nuzzles against your hand with a soft whimper as you run your thumb along his cheek.

“Makes me feel .. bad. Sleepy,” Namjoon’s speech seems to flow a little easier than it did a week ago, but the struggle to find the right words is still there, his brows furrowing in concentration as he whispers, "Don’t like it.”

You swallow thickly, your stomach in knots as you ask, “Did your owner give you those? The shots that made you sleepy?” The wolf hybrid makes a low sound of agreement, his ears turning back. The marks on his wrist you couldn’t figure out, they’re needle marks. You’ve heard of it before, how some owners would drug their more exotic hybrids to keep them calm and docile – to silence the part of their genetics that make them so unique. You glance down at Namjoon, the wolf hybrid staring up at you with so much vulnerability and trust that the thought of someone taking advantage of that it makes you feel ill.

“These won’t make you feel that way, I promise.” You muster up the warmest smile you can manage as you peek over at the doctor, a silent plea in your eyes.

“Oh! Don’t worry Mr. Kim, there are no side effects to these shots. You’ll hardly even notice it,” The doctor quickly adds as he takes a careful step forward. Namjoon lets out a slow breath, golden eyes finding yours and his tail draping across his lap as he grumbles out a hesitant “Okay.”

“–All done!” You can see the doctor’s shoulders visibly drop as he finally gets the chance to move back, obviously relieved to put some distance between himself and Namjoon. “I’ll be back later to check on your leg and make sure everything is okay.” The sour expression on Namjoon’s face softens as the doctor hurries out the door, the grip around your hand loosening slightly as it clicks shut behind him.

“May I speak with you outside alone for a minute, miss?” You look up at the nurse as she finishes placing a band-aid on Namjoon’s arm, the empty shots rolling around in the tray as she picks it up.

“Oh, sure,” Namjoon lets out a whine as you try to step away, lips formed into a soft pout as you gently extract your hand from his grip. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back,” You give his shoulder a squeeze before you follow the nurse out, shooting Namjoon what you hope is a comforting smile over your shoulder. The wolf hybrid keeps his eyes trained on you as you leave, his distressed gaze still burning into your back as you close the door behind you. You only take a few steps down the hall before the nurse turns to face you, her expression troubled as she looks you up and down, “I take it he’s not your hybrid?”

“No, he’s not,” You quickly shake your head. “I came across him up in the mountains. He said he ran away from his old owner, and that it was a ‘bad place’. I’m pretty sure it must’ve been a couple of years at least,” You wince. The nurse nods, her gaze shifting around the busy hallway as she thinks.

“I’ll have someone look into it. We need to settle his hospital bills, and only his legal owner can do that.” She must see the way your face drops, because she quickly adds, “I could tell from his old scars that he’s likely been abused. Even if we find his owner, they’re not going to be allowed to take him home. It’ll be looked into.”

“Right, thanks.” You muster up a weak smile. You know how these things go. Even if there’s an investigation, the police are too easy to buy off. There are frankly too many cases like Namjoon’s, and too few cops that actually treat their abuse seriously.

“Can I stay with him until his owner shows up?”

“It’s a little unorthodox, but yes, you can. I don’t think he’ll actually stay inside his room if you don’t.” The nurse lets out a huff, a flash of amusement in her eyes as she waves for you to go back inside. “I’ll let you know once we figure it out, it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Thank you.”

Turning to face Namjoon’s door, you try to shake off the anxious feeling festering in your stomach. You’re not going to let him go back to his old owner. You’re honestly not even sure how you’ve managed to grow attached so quickly, but there’s just something about the wolf hybrid that makes you ready to fight tooth and nail for his safety and happiness – even if it means he won’t find it with you.

a/n: ahah heyy ... let's just ignore that it took me two months to update this, okay? thank you aksjsk. i decided to split the last part into two, to give myself more time to write a little bit of extra fluff (and smut)! so the third and final part is hopefully coming next week, but if not, it will at least be posted by the end of november. namjoon's speech will get better in the next part and we will learn more about him + his and y/n's relationship will grow! if you like the story then please drop me a reblog/comment, that would mean the world to me! (ps. this story has no tag list!)

as always, see you all soon and stay safe! <3 and in case you enjoy my stories and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here! 💖

[sugako]

my roommate’s toys

kuroo x f!reader

sum: after listening to you, his roommate, get off on her toys most nights kuroo comes home early to accidentally find you when you weren’t expecting

cw: 18+ mdni, nsfw, smut, slight voyeurism (dub/non-con, kuroo listening to you masturbate), mentions of male masturbation, female masturbation, toy use (dildo, vibrator), oral (receiving), size kink, creampie, some aftercare, roommates to lovers

wc: 2.4k 

a/n: i just had a teeny tiny thot and suddenly it was like 5 pages long, but mostly all just pure smut 

If by some miracle you had been able to hear the front door open, you still probably wouldn’t have stopped. You knew he might be home late. That was what he said at least the night before, work was busy and he might be home late. Might, in your opinion, was a strong word that turned out to be a complete, accidental lie. 

Kuroo really had thought he was going to be home a little later than usual, only telling you because he knew you wanted to watch some movie with him that night. Instead, he got even his extra work done all before he had to punch out. When he walked in, the house was a little quieter than normal. You weren’t in the main room of the apartment, the television wasn’t on, the shower wasn’t running, there was nothing for only a moment. The second he got his shoes off he heard you. 

Pitchy moans barely quieted by the thin walls of the apartment hung heavy in the air. This wasn’t the first time he had heard you, of course. Sometimes late at night or in the bright hours of the morning, he would hear your quick breaths, muted vibrations, and occasional wet slaps. His hand would snake down to hold onto his remarkably hard erection, driven solely by the thought of you. The first time he had regretted it, felt awful after he came all over his stomach to the sounds of your sighs, but now it felt like part of his routine. 

Now felt different. He longed to hear you and see you, to really see you. It would be an accident, he decided, feet already padding toward your door. Ever so slowly, he dragged a knuckle down the surface just above the handle, but the subtle noise didn’t alert you. 

He had said “might”, which you had taken as “would definitely”. This was why you were backed up against the wall above your headboardless bed with a dildo hilted in you, rocking back and forth on it, grappling for your vibrator, knowing you needed to finish soon before he got back. 

“Hey, I saw-!” His voice cut off at the sight before him, so much more than he had imagined. Parallel to his frame of vision, he got the perfect view of you being split open by a dildo suctioned to the wall behind you. It was a light pink, almost clear, completely coated in your slick. 

The moment was extremely brief as, within the next tenth of a second, you rushed to cover up with a blanket, kneeling with your back flush to the wall. The blanket you had recklessly tossed over yourself barely covered your back or ass, but it was worth the try. 

“Tetsurō!” You squealed, motioning to the door. He was motionless, mouth gaping like a fish out of water. “What are you doing?! Go!” Your entire body burned in pure shame and embarrassment, completely unable to look at him but knowing he was still right there. 

“I… what if…” he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. He had practiced these silly cliche words time and time again in his head, always imagining it would come down to this, but not knowing his dream would turn into reality tonight. “I can help you.” He said with as much cool confidence as he could muster. 

“That’s not funny. Just… just go so we can pretend this never happened.” You stumbled over your words, tears welling up in your eyes as you tried to imagine this wasn’t real. He took careful note of how you were trembling, nerves melting away.

“I’m not joking.” He said evenly. “I hear you all the time and now I come home to you basically screaming while you fuck yourself on a dumb, little toy. I want to help you.” 

Finally, you looked at him again. His eyes were hardened, stuck exactly on you with a steely expression. Your chest heaved a little faster and you were suddenly acutely aware of how naked you were under the plush blanket and the toy still tucked inside of you. 

It wasn’t difficult to admit to yourself that he was handsome and you had certainly thought of him other than a roommate in the past. The words were stuck in the back of your throat like putty, “Um, I…” 

“Yes or no?” He kept his eyes straight on you, never wavering. The answer was simple you just had to get it out. 

“Yes.” You finally said with a small nod. Kuroo couldn’t begin to hold back his small grin as he closed the door behind himself and advanced toward the bed. It dipped with his weight when he sat on the edge, forcing you to shift around the toy. 

“Why don’t you start with taking that blanket off?” He trailed the back of his hand down your cheek, watching your teary eyes clear up as they filled with want rather than embarrassment. 

“Yeah, just let me,” you gulped, trying not to wince while you pulled yourself off the fake cock. 

His throat went dry when he realized what you had just done. Before the blanket could slip past your shoulders, he grabbed you and forced his lips against yours. It felt so natural, you cursed yourself for not having tried anything months ago. Tongues met each other in a messy, impassioned war, that you ultimately just let him win for the sake of his ego. 

When he leaned you back on the bed, you had almost forgotten all about the toy still suctioned to the wall until it bumped the back of your head. Kuroo held back a chuckle but pulled it off the wall anyhow. You opened your mouth to tell him where to put it, quickly stopped by the cool, damp tip pressing against your lips. 

“Think of this as a warm-up before the better and bigger things.” He purred while he pressed it deeper and deeper into your mouth, watching the pink plastic slip inch by inch into your mouth. Sucking lightly, you cleaned it, greedily tasting yourself, while he slowly and shallowly pumped it and out of your lips. 

At last, when he pulled it away and saw the pornographic string of spit that connected your lolled, panting tongue to the narrow tip, he thought he was going to lose it. The next words you said didn’t help either. 

“Bigger?” You whined quietly, concern and excitement etched onto your face. Groaning into your neck, he carefully tossed the toy toward the bottom of the bed. 

“I’d say so, but you can be the judge.” Needing to unbutton his pants to relieve some pressure, he sat back up, making sure to pull the blanket completely off of you. “At least you’re a little prepped, but I think I can do more.” 

In less than a moment, he had slinked between your legs, spreading your thighs wide with your knees draped over his broad shoulders. The first, hurried lap against your folds made you twitch against him involuntarily. Your hands immediately found his messy hair and grabbed on to steady yourself as he found your clit. 

“Mmhm, you sound better in person than you do behind a wall.” He mumbled against you before he went back to lapping you up. 

“Why…ah, why were you listening?” Too blissed out to feel embarrassed anymore, you barely felt a twinge of shame at his comment. 

“Wasn’t listening, you’re just too fucking loud. And these walls are thin.” Kuroo rolled his eyes, trying to keep his focus all on how you were squirming under him, hips bucking against his face as you chased release. 

Eyebrows knit, you tug a little harder on his hair, forcing a deep groan out of his that vibrates against you. “Should’ve told me,” you gasp when he gives your clit a hard suck, “told me before.” 

“And not get this show?” Is the last quip he mutters back at you before his tongue flashes across your clit, forcing the growing coil in the pit of your stomach to snap. Completely out of your control, your hips grind and tremor against his face even though he has a tight hold of your legs. 

While you struggle to recuperate under his, he’s tearing away the layers he still has on. His tie is somewhere near your side, button-up tossed on the floor, pants and boxers shucked to the foot of the bed, threatening to slide off. Blinking away the haze, you finally get a good look at him. The look is more than good. 

Your eyes rake down his build, slim but obviously very fit for someone who works in an office. It’s obvious that you’re not being conspicuous, but you can’t help it, especially not when he was being honest about his ‘warm-up’ comment. 

“My eyes are up here,” he chuckles before engulfing you and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “How do you want me?” 

“Huh?” 

“This is all for you, so how do you want me? Want me to fuck you like this?” His eyes flickered up and down your close bodies. “Or do you want to be on top? I could pick you up. Maybe from behind like you had that dumb, little toy stuffed in you?” He watches as your breath silently hitches at the last comment. “Tell me.” 

“Y-yeah, want you, um, behind.” You choke out, feeling his hard cock brush against your thigh as he sits back on his heels again. Before he can instruct you, you’re already on your hands and knees, chest pressed into the mattress. 

He’s glad you can’t see the way he slowly blinks at the sight of your pretty ass and the curve of your back. It almost doesn’t feel real. His perfect, cute roommate all splayed out, drooling cunt exposed and begging to be fucked by him.

Soothing a hand over your lower back, he pulls you back by the hips to line himself up, eliciting a little squeak from you as you’re jostled across the blankets. He presses his tip to your entrance, fingertips digging into your ass, as he slowly presses himself in. When he hears you whimper, clenching around him when he’s only halfway in, he pauses, letting you settle. 

“Shh, it’s okay, you can do this. Relax.” He grunts, gently easing in another slow inch. 

You’re so wet you’re already dripping cum along your thighs and down onto the sheets, but it isn’t enough to quell the stretch he gives you. 

“Just so big,” you cry, trying to focus on relaxing while he splits you open. “Feels so good though.” 

“I know, I know.” 

He’s grateful that you’re holding your body so well, otherwise, he was worried he might just collapse on top of you now. Finally, he’s bottomed out, heavy balls resting against the top of your plush thighs. 

“Please…” You sputter out, gently moving your hips back against his. “Want you to fuck me hard, please, Tetsu.” 

He can’t say no to that. He also can’t say much of anything, transfixed on the way you’re creaming around his cock, pretty white ring already settled around his base before he gets more than three strokes in. The first few times he thrusts against you are light, he’s still easing you in, but by the fifth or sixth he’s slamming against you and picking up speed with each second that passes. 

You’re whimpering and moaning in the sheets, going slack as his hands work in tandem with his hips to pull you off of him and bring you right back so he can slam in even harder. The front of his thighs slap against your ass, the smack echoing in the room along with the slick squelches from where your bodies meet one another. 

“Like being fucked by a real cock?” He grunts out, hands grappling through the sheets for something he saw earlier.

“So good, yeah,” you whine, words barely stringing into a coherent sentence. “A lot better.” 

“Wanna cum on a real cock?” 

The loud whir of your vibrator makes you clench around him and whimper out some more nonsense. “Ye-eah, wanna cum. Wanna cum on your cock. Want you to cum in me.” 

His entire body flares at your words, but he keeps up his bruising pace and reaches around to press the vibe to your swollen clit. “Don’t worry, I’ll fill you up with everything I have, baby. You just gotta cum first.”

The latter part is easy. Already so sensitive and so full now, the vibrator makes easy work of you, forcing you up and over that ledge once again. Your pussy flutters around his length, holding on so hard it nearly forces him to still, but he pushes through. He turns the vibe off, letting you settle before he really starts pounding into you, so close to his own release.  

Your torso is slack, hips only held up by pure will and his hands that drag you along his cock like a ragdoll. A slurred string of praises to him, how good he feels, how good you feel drip out of your mouth like honey. You’re not even sure if he can really hear you, but you keep going until you feel him twitch inside of you and hold your ass flush to himself before strings of his cum splatter against your insides.

There’s so much filling you up, you feel hot, sticky drips trail down the inside of your thigh. Kuroo, a panting, flushed mess behind you, watches when he slips his softening cock out of you and his white cum slowly leaks from your still quivering entrance. 

Daze finally breaking, he reaches up and grabs some tissues beside your bed and gives you a rough clean-up before he does himself, throwing the messy tissue toward the small bin in the corner of your room. 

You let yourself fall to your stomach, lazily rolling over and pulling the blanket over your chin, motioning for him to get under as well. He complies, with a small, goofy grin, and snuggles close to you, wrapping his arms around your waist to hoist you closer. 

“Good?” He asks quietly. 

“Very good.” You grin, taking his face in your hands to push his stray hairs out of his eyes before you press a kiss to his forehead. 

[leon-scott-kennedy]

Frostbitten

Chreon, Rated-T

Read on Ao3

Leon had barely kicked off his unbroken-in boots and flopped face-first on his bed when his phone rang. He groaned. Getting called back to the training field might kill him. Every inch of his body ached and throbbed after taking a literal beating for the last ten hours; he couldn’t be bothered to change out of his sweaty clothes, let alone shower. USSTRATCOM training was tough and the instructors tougher, but this was precisely what he had signed up for, a chance to help people, to make sure that Raccoon City never happened again.

The handset slid out of the cradle when Leon smacked it in his blind search. It hit the floor with a clunk, half suspended by the cord.

“Shit.”Leon grabbed the phone and rolled onto his back. “This better be important.”

“Rough day?”

Leon sat up, a lump forming in the back of his throat. “Chris?”

Weeks ago, Leon tracked down Chris long enough to send an email warning him that Claire had gotten herself into some deep shit and needed a hand, and then handily tacked on his new number in a hastily added PS. But, unfortunately, Leon himself was a bit busy with his so-called new job, which so far consisted of him having his ass handed to him on a regular basis, and he hadn’t been in contact with Chris or Claire since Raccoon City two months ago.

Honestly, Leon had hoped the Redfield siblings had found each other and were off chasing Umbrella and saving the world together, but apparently not. Coupled with Leon and Sherry having seemingly disappeared off the face of the planet for weeks, Chris had been a little desperate when Leon finally managed to send an encrypted email.

“How’s it going, rookie?”

Leon snorted and flopped back on the mattress, tucking his free arm behind his head, his fatigue melting away. “Oh, you know.”

“That good, huh. I know you can’t tell me what’s going on, but are you okay?”

Always with the tough questions. Leon sighed, but his stomach gave a funny little flip. “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

“I definitely owe you one.”

“I think we’re about even.” Leon wasted nights alone in bed thinking about the night he spent buried against Chris Redfield’s chest, arms wrapped protectively around him as he fell apart when Raccoon City was still a smouldering ruin on the horizon. Leon yearned for that level of comfort and warmth. “Did you find her?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I found her. But, we lost someone.”

Leon’s chest ached. How many people was that now? How many people had they lost in this war that they hadn’t even been aware they were fighting. Umbrella destroyed so many lives; hurt so many people. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

Condolences - apology, solace, commiseration - hung thick in the air between them, so many words left unsaid. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I’m sorry I left, that I abandoned you when you needed me; I wish you were here.

“How’s Sherry?”

“She’s good,” Leon lied. His stomach clenched painfully at the thought of the little girl he and Claire had managed to save from the city. The one thing Leon had done right.

Except, the first thing the government had done was take Sherry from Leon, separated them, interrogated him for days until they finally held her life above his head like a guillotine. His visitation remained few and far between, but she was alive and well taken care of, and that’s what mattered. Even if she’d traded one lab for another.

“Good. That’s good. Listen, Claire and I are back home getting things in order, but we both want to see you. Without you, I wouldn’t have found her.”

“Chris, seriously. It was nothing. I just passed on the information I had.” Leon twirled his finger absentmindedly in the phone cord. “I couldn’t get to her, but knew you could. I’m glad you found her.”

“You’re in DC, right?”

“What? Yeah. Listen, Chris-” Leon tried.

“We’re going to drive down for the weekend before we fly back to England next week. We’re putting together a team, but Claire really wants to see you. I want to see you. I need to thank you.”

Leon scrubbed his hand across his mouth and stared helplessly up at the stucco ceiling. Chris wasn’t going to take no for an answer, not that Leon wanted him to. On the contrary, he wanted to see them as badly as they wanted to see him.

“The weekend should be fine,” Leon said. “I usually have them off unless they decide to airdrop me into the center of a national park with nothing but a combat knife and a flask. I mean, no guarantees, but, you know.”

“Jesus Christ, Leon. What have you gotten yourself into?”

Leon grimaced. “Unfortunately, that’s classified.”

“I sure as hell hope you know what you’re doing.” That made two of them, but Sherry’s life hung in the balance.

Chris and Leon hashed out tentative plans for the weekend. Claire and Chris would drive the nine hours down from Franklin County on Friday, which Leon found insane. Nine hours trapped in a vehicle with their sibling for a dude they barely knew, only to be met with disappointment because Leon wouldn’t be whatever they expected. All the same, he’d let them crash at his place for the weekend, and then they’d fly out of the Dulles International Sunday evening.

Warmth blossomed in Leon’s chest; hope. Things weren’t ideal. Yes, he’d been coerced into the service of his country, but he wanted to do what he couldn’t in Raccoon City; save people, make Umbrella pay for their crimes. Maybe he could have done that alongside friends, allies, or Chris. Instead, the acute loneliness tingled in the back of his mind, a constant reminder that he had been abandoned. Not on purpose, no, but his naivety showed weakness.

The call ended with a promise, like their last separation, a reluctance to part, but a promise of companionship, of warmth, of friendship that was almost destined to end in grief. Leon couldn’t help the anticipation that bloomed.

Leon noisily clattered the headset back into the cradle and took stock of his tiny bedroom cluttered with dirty clothes, plates, a half-empty glass of water, and first aid supplies. “Fuck.”

Cleaning the apartment wouldn’t be so bad considering his severe lack of possessions, and he had three days before visitors arrived. Not that either of the Redfield’s would care about the clutter and shortage of furniture. If anything, they would understand. So much had been lost the day Racoon City disappeared in a mushroom cloud. Still, he tidied every moment he had between beatings, lectures, and exams.

Friday morning, the apartment was shockingly spotless except for the freshly used coffee mug in the sink. Loading it into the half-empty dishwasher wouldn’t have been all that difficult if Leon wasn’t already running behind schedule. The commute to the training center took twenty minutes on a good day if he obeyed all traffic laws.

Today likely wouldn’t be one of those days since he was due for roll-call in seven minutes, which seemed pointlessly ridiculous as he was the only agent in training. But the government liked to make him jump through hoops, literally.

Each course they had him run became increasingly complex and ludicrous to the point that Leon failed more than ninety percent of the time. With each fall, one instructor that he didn’t know the name of, only called Sir, yelled “dead” as if it wasn’t already abundantly clear that one mistake would be a death sentence in the field. Something he probably knew that better than the assholes pulling the strings. None of the big wigs had lived the hell he lived, seen what he had seen, and relived what he relived every night alone twisted in the sheets of his bed.

By the time Leon trudged through the front door of his tiny apartment, two hours later than planned, his entire side was mottled blue and purple from the fresh thrashing at the hands of his close combat instructor. His hand to hand had improved the most over the last month with the help of his natural flexibility and agility that earned him a few jokes about how he should have joined the circus. But they were impressed.

Nothing about his training was normal, even he knew that. Nothing like the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team had been formed before, people had never been reanimated from the dead by a virus before, and they were trying to prepare him for the worst. A nightmare they had never experienced themselves, but he had.

The phone rang. Leon groaned, staggering as he pivoted where he had been about to face-plant on the couch, and headed for the phone in the bedroom.

“Hello?” Leon said, almost certain it was Agent Benford with a new brutal assignment. He sagged onto the bed in relief, curling onto his side when the increasingly familiar greeting of ‘hey, rookie” rumbled in his ear. “Chris.”

“Thank god. Where have you been? This is the fourth time we tried calling.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Leon groaned as his side twinged. “Got, uh, caught up at the... office.”

“You sound like you’re in rough shape.”

Leon hummed. “Been worse.” A sad truth.

“We were calling to say we’re an hour out, but now that’s more like ten minutes,” Chris said, and Claire shouted something unintelligible in the background. “Oh, right. Remind me to give you this number. Claire made me get one of those Nokias so she can keep track of me.”

Claire screeched indignantly, and Leon snickered. “I’ve got a pager,” he offered as consolation. All that much easier to be at the government’s beck and call, but if Chris ever needed him, or Claire, or Sherry.

Leon rattled off a few quick directions to get the Redfield’s to his place, then hung up the phone and rolled out of bed to shower. The hot water stung the fresh bruising, his muscles ached, but he felt human the more he scrubbed away the sweat and grime.

The buzzer for the front door rang as Leon eased a fresh t-shirt on over his head; his shoulder twinged, but he limped over to buzz them up.

A few minutes later, since the building’s elevator took years because of the ‘historic’ value as the real estate agent had put it, someone knocked at the door in a frantic staccato. Leon swung the door open, hair still damp, and was immediately tackled in a hug.

Fight or flight kicked in, Leon’s brain came back online in fits and started in time to hug the small woman hugging him tightly rather than throw her over his shoulder. Claire’s mouth ran a mile a minute. Apparently, he had been missed, and Claire didn’t appear to want to release him anytime soon if the creaking of his ribs were anything to go by.

Leon stared helplessly over her head at Chris, who laughed, but pried his sister off Leon so he could drag him in a hug too. Chris enveloped Leon in a bear hug. That level of high alert that itched in the back of his mind for months ebbed, not disappeared, but faded enough that Leon enjoyed the moment, squeezing Chris back just as tight.

“Come in,” Leon said as he stepped back and waved them into his tiny apartment. “It’s not much, but, you know.”

Claire and Chris shucked their shoes and jackets and wandered into the apartment. Claire scrutinized every little detail or lack thereof. Decoration wasn’t exactly at the top of Leon’s priorities. Nevertheless, he had what he needed: a couch, a TV, a coffee table that doubled as his kitchen table, and a mattress in the bedroom. No bedframe, but he wasn’t picky. Clean sheets and a blanket, and he was good to go.

“It’s, ahh...” Chris trailed off as he glanced around the sparse room.

“What are you, a squatter?” Claire cut in. She stood in front of the mostly empty closet she’d opened.

“Okay, I was going to say it’s a bit Spartan,” Chris said. He slapped a comforting hand on Leon’s shoulder. “Can’t be easy to start all over from nothing, again.”

Leon rubbed the back of his neck, shoulders slumped. “I did warn you guys. Not much to do.”

Chris hummed, his hand dropping from Leon’s shoulder as he wandered off to the kitchen. “You got beer?” The fridge was stocked with two six-packs of cheap beer, a bottle of ketchup, a carton of 2%, and eggs.

“I’ll order food,” Claire said, glancing around, but the phone wasn’t in sight. Leon directed her to the bedroom, where his mattress sat on the floor against the wall. “Jesus Christ, Leon, is that a milk crate?” Clearly, she’d found the bedside table with the phone and takeout menus.

Groaning, Leon sank down onto his couch and buried his face in his hands. The cushions sank beside him as a much larger body sat down. Leon peeked out from between his fingers at Chris, who smiled sadly at him.

“If you need anything-” Chris started.

“I’m fine.” Leon ran his fingers through his damp hair and slouched so his elbows rested on his knees. “Not a lot of time to do much these days, you know, between the daily ass kickings and memorizing a million and one protocols.”

Chris mirrored Leon’s posture. “You could always come with us.”

Leon shook his head.

“Leon-”

“I can’t,” Leon snapped in time for Claire to walk out of the bedroom.

For a second, Claire paused, eyes bouncing between the heavy tension that hung between them. “I ordered Chinese. Did I miss something?”

“No,” Chris and Leon said at the same time.

The food didn’t take long to arrive. The delivery guy, already familiar with Leon’s apartment, joked that he had company for once. The restaurant had even thrown in some free spring rolls for one of their best customers. Sad, considering he’d only been in DC for a little over a month.

The three of them settled on the couch together; Leon squashed in the middle of the sofa, pressed against Chris because Claire had claimed one end with her feet up and tucked her toes under Leon’s thigh. They’d settled for a cheesy action movie they found flipping through channels, something with a bus that couldn’t stop, but ignored it in favour of light conversion, mostly Claire. Neither Chris nor Leon were much in the way of conversationalists. Still, Chris offered a tidbit here and there, and Leon hummed along, nodding when need be, and occasionally offered the occasional dry joke that had Chris and Claire in stitches. Chris nearly snorted beer out his nose when he made an off-the-cuff remark about the first day always being the easiest.

Pleasantly buzzed from a few beers and noodles heavy in his belly, Leon began to nod off, his head helplessly bobbing with the weight of fatigue.

Distantly, Leon heard a chuckle. His head plopped down on the closest shoulder, broad and warm, and the last thing he remembered was Claire wiggling her toes under his thigh and giggling.

When Leon woke up to his bladder screaming, the apartment was dark. For a brief second, he panicked when he discovered his mobility restricted, but his foggy mind pieced together the clues to form a complete picture. He was still on the couch, curled into Chris’ side, nose pressed into Chris’ neck. The arm slung around Leon’s shoulder held in him what couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than a secure embrace. They were barely covered by what Leon quickly realized was the thin comforter from his bed because Claire, curled up on the other end of the couch, had stolen most of the blanket, leaving Chris and Leon with a tiny corner.

Leon eased himself out of Chris’ protective hold and slipped off the couch, tucking Chris back under the blanket so he could escape to the safety of the bathroom in what was becoming a pattern. Wake up cuddled with a man he barely knew, panic, then flee.

The moonlight through the clouded window lit the bathroom enough for Leon to piss and wash his hands without hitting the light. He stood, hands braced on the edge of the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The bags under his eyes were lighter, and his hair was a wild tangle after falling asleep with it still damp. Even if he looked less tired, he was exhausted. He shivered. DC winters were colder than he was used to.

Shuffling back into the living room, Leon found Claire stretched further out on the couch, having used Leon’s absence to steal the very little room Leon had occupied beside Chris. “That seems about right,” he said, then jumped when Chris’ head popped up from where it had been stretched out against the back of the couch. “Oh! Sorry, I can just...” Leon waved vaguely back down the hall towards his bedroom.

Chris lifted his corner of the blanket in invitation.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Leon argued, rubbing his arm. “I can just sleep in my bed.”

“Isn’t this your blanket?” Chris asked.

Leon shivered in the cool December chill. “It’s not that cold.”

“Leon.”

Leon slunk back to the couch under Chris’ watchful gaze and tried to find space, but Claire’s sprawl left no room for Leon to squeeze back into. He hovered for a moment, uncertain of how to proceed, but the choice was taken from him when Chris grabbed him around the middle and hauled him down over his lap. Leon squawked, slapping a hand over his mouth. His butt nestled between the arm of the couch and Chris’ thigh, his legs thrown over Chris’ lap.

For almost a full minute, Leon stared at Chris open-mouthed, unable to do anything but blink like a startled owl while his attacker shook with silent laughter.

“Cat got your tongue, rookie?” Chris snickered.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Leon snapped his jaw closed, pursed his lips and purposefully flung an arm around Chris’ shoulders before wiggling until he was burrowed tightly into the warmth of Chris’ side like a kitten. Still, it took a few minutes for Leon to relax enough to sink into the heat of the body beneath him, Chris grinning a challenge to him. Leon rolled his eyes and stuck the cold tip of his nose into Chris’ neck.

“Christ, Kennedy,” Chris said as a stilted shudder ran through him, but wrapped Leon in an inflexible hug like the first night they met, the night Leon’s anxiety and doubt demanded the comfort of another person, the night he still dreamt about. “What are you? Part snowman?”

“Popsicle, but thanks for asking,” Leon mumbled.

Tucked under a small corner of the worn comforter he found in a thrift shop his first night in the city, Leon tilted headfirst into the satisfaction and comfort of Chris Redfield. Most men would have balked at even the idea of cuddling with another man, but Leon had never been like other men. He’d learned early in life to take comfort where he could because kindness was often isolated incidents of empathy.

The smell of coffee tickled Leon’s nose. He was hot, a little too hot, and a little sweaty, but he was comfortable, safe. He pressed into the warmth, groaning quiet contentment when the heat squeezed back until a sharp snort and a giggle shocked him into alertness like a splash of ice water.

Leon’s eyes snapped open. Claire grinned at him from the far end of the couch, legs pulled up to sit cross-legged, hand curled around a steaming mug of coffee. “Morning.”

Ao3

[ddarker-dreams]

Sweet Talkin’. Yan Dabi x Reader [COMM]

There’s been an abnormal amount of sirens tonight.

It should be unnerving -- and to an extent it is -- but this isn’t what keeps you awake. Not that, or even the dogs barking outside accompanied with an occasional derogatory yell. With a heavy heart, you can say that you’ve gotten used to all of that noise. No, it’s something different that steals you from the welcoming comfort of a deep slumber. 

The thing that truly keeps you up is the anticipation of what is to come. Or more precisely, who. 

The bright glow of your phone strains your tired eyes, but it’s your best shot at finding entertainment. Squinting at the blinding light, exhaustion seeps into your being despite your best efforts to ward it off. No matter how much caffeine you drink later on in the day, it’s not enough to to thwart your natural inclinations to sleep.

For most, nighttime is a relaxing time of day that’s coveted. It brings a time of solitude, to reflect and rest up for the next day. While you wish you could return to the days where you felt like that, it’s long behind you now. Instead, you evade sleep, in fear of what could occur when you’re in the defenseless state. 

An illusion of control is better than none at all.

“You’re gonna get dark circles under those pretty eyes if you keep staying up this late.” 

A deep voice rumbles from the entrance to your shared room, one that you instantly recognize. Even in your groggy state, your emotions heighten in his presence. Turning off your phone and placing it down, you stretch your arms out, a yawn leaving your lips in the process.  

So he’s back. 

“Yeah, yeah…” you grumble back, caring little for the teasing comment. After feeling around your nightstand, a click resonates, light illuminating your room. Once your eyes adjust, you spot your unwelcome visitor, who makes himself at home. Dabi walks towards you, your bed creaking under his added weight as he sits down. Untying his shoes, he throws them carelessly in the corner.

Sensing your staring, he looks over his shoulder and grins at you. “Awe, you miss me or somethin’? How cute.” 

A groan leaves your lips, and you reach to throw a pillow at him. He easily deflects it with a snicker, working on taking his shirt off next. At least now that he’s back you feel more inclined to sleep, knowing that he can’t sneak up on you. Splatters of dark vermilion catch your attention, mouth curling downwards into a frown. 

If there’s anything you’ve learned in your time with Dabi, it’s that you shouldn’t ask where the blood stains come from. Ignorance is bliss, right? It’s still an unnerving sight, especially since you know it isn’t his. 

The relationship you two share is nothing if not unconventional. His occupation -- if you can even call it that -- has him coming and going at unholy times at night. Sleep is difficult to come by, not knowing when he might make an appearance. It’s what leads you to stay up some nights, a preferable experience to tossing and turning with anxious thoughts plaguing you.

As long as you stay in your designated place, Dabi holds true to his promise of doing you no harm. Thinly veiled threats under the pretense of being your “roommate” lead you to the current day, an awkward routine settling in. For all it’s worth, it could be worse. You’re acutely aware of what Dabi is capable of, having seen the ashes of corpses blurred out in the news. 

Why he’s taken a liken to you is beyond you. It still beats dying, only by a sliver. 

“There are some leftovers in the fridge,” you tap your phone, reading the time. Three in the morning. Great, and you have work tomorrow too. “I think I’ll give sleeping a shot now that you’re back.” 

Dabi raises an eyebrow at this, a fresh shirt without blood stains now on. “You always sleep when I get back. It hurts my feelings. What, am I not good enough company?”  

‘If I’m being honest, not really.’

He grins at how you shiver, lazily crawling over to be by your side. His sudden presence fills your nose with unknown scents, ranging from smoke to burnt leather. Underneath is hints of his cologne, all mixing together to disorient you further. Dabi loves riling you up, testing the limits of what you can handle. 

You take a deep breath, hugging your knees to your chest. As long as you don’t let it get to you, it’ll be fine. He always gets bored eventually, leaving you to do as you please. That’s what you’ll aim for.

“It’s not that. I just have stuff to do tomorrow, and I don’t like being exhausted. It’s my long shift.” 

His trademark grin melts away, furrowing eyebrows and a grimace taking its place. Mentioning your life outside of him is a tricky battle, and you can’t help but regret mentioning it. Being in a sleep deprived state is a major disadvantage in your interactions with him.

“This again? I thought I told you to quit. Rent or whatever won’t be an issue, I’ll handle it.” Dabi scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your bare shoulder. His skin feels rough against yours, coarse hands rubbing circles into  you. You bite your lip at the sensation, hair on the back of your neck standing. 

“I... I like my job. Sure, it can be irritating at times, but it gives me something to do during the day. I’d go stir crazy without something concrete to focus on.” The words are heartfelt, unfiltered. When he responds in silence you worry you’ve made a mistake, upsetting him with your defiance.

He huffs against your neck, lifting his head and shooting you a displeased look.  His voice is a low murmur, one that reverberates into the core of your very being. “Always making trouble for me..." 

Dabi’s grip around you tightens, and you gulp thickly. With how casual he speaks to you, it can be easy to forget the major power imbalance. Instead of greeting you with insults, or worse, he lightly flicks your forehead.

You blink, baffled.

“Don’t most people hate their jobs? I figured you’d be jumping at the idea of having more free time, or whatever. So you can focus on other things.” 

It’s not a confession you were expecting, your cheeks flushing at the considerate nature of his words. While it’s true quitting your job is an appealing thought, it creates a semblance of balance within your now chaotic life. Helping you stick to a schedule, in the same way school used to. 

Now feeling confident in expressing yourself, your taut muscles relax into his touch. “I’m too tired to think about it properly, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how you can stay up this late all the time without losing it.” 

Deflecting from the previous topic makes you feel better. If Dabi notices your intentions he doesn’t point them out, allowing you to take control of the conversation without complaint. He must prefer it over when you’d just shake and cry in his presence.

“You get used to it, sweetheart,” he drums his fingers against you, smirking. “I’ll make a night owl outta you yet.” 

Any implications in his words go straight over your head.

“As tempting an offer as that is, I think I’ll pass. ” 

He shrugs at your indifference, removing his arms from your frame. The lack of enveloping warmth causes you to shiver, Dabi searching through his bag. You peak over his shoulder out of curiosity, his scarred hands settling on an object which he pulls out. 

It’s a copy of Animal Crossing, in all of its beautiful glory. You wipe your eyes, unsure if what you’re seeing is reality.

“W-what?” you guffaw before your brain has the chance to stop you, jaw agape and head tilted. Dabi places it on your lap, and returns to his previous position of holding you. There’s clear amusement in his eyes at your stunned state, relishing in your every reaction.

“Did I get the wrong thing? This is that game you wanted, isn’t it?” 

It had to have been a week or so ago. You lamented to him about not being able to afford this, not even realizing he was giving it any attention. To think he remembered, and acted on it for your sake... is a touching sensation. Maybe he is capable of selflessness after all.

The cute box art puts a smile on your face, one that Dabi stares at. 

“I have to say, I’m surprised,” you pick it up, looking at the back with wide eyes. “Did the cashier give you a funny look when you picked this out?” 

‘I really need to start thinking before I speak.’

He shakes his head at your blunt comment, not taking any offense. “I didn’t get it that way.”

‘Oh, well... better not ask more than necessary. There’s no blood on it so at least that’s a good sign.’

Wiggling free from his grip, you rotate your legs over the side of the bed, intent on getting your switch. An opportunity like this must be taken advantage of, and you’ve wanted to play this game for some time now. Dabi must’ve read your mind, and pulls you back to him with little effort before you get the chance. 

“If I remember correctly, you said you were tired just a few minutes ago.” 

He plucks the game from your fingers, and places it on the side furthest from you. What a cruel world this is, to have paradise so close and yet so far. You can’t help the pout that forms at his actions.

“The situation changed, I’m wide awake now.” you explain to an unmoved Dabi, launching over his lap to get your coveted game back. He picks it up, lifting it over your head with a chuckle. So that’s how it’s going to be. 

Defeat settling in, you retreat for now. A sigh leaves your lips, arms crossing over your chest. You should’ve known better, Dabi has made it clear to you that he wants your attention. Looks like you’ll have to wait until after work to get a taste of Animal Crossing. 

There’s a glint of mischievous in his azure eyes, one that you’ve seen more often than you wish. Dabi sighs in mock hurt, placing a hand over his heart. “Not even so much as a thank you for my efforts. That’s cold, babe. Real cold.” 

“I’m sorry, you’re right. Thank you, it means a lot.” 

He shakes his head, clicking his tongue. “That’s not what I was looking for. Try again, sweetheart.” 

A flurry of thoughts fly through your mind, all competing with one another to offer a solution. Does he want money for it? He should know that you’re not capable of producing that amount, or you would’ve bought the game for yourself. Dabi gives you a moment to think, before offering the answer to you.

He puts his pointer finger on your lip, maintaining eye contact while doing so. 

“Oh, t-that.”

“So glad to see that you’re finally catching on.” 

It could be the summer heat winning over your AC, the room suddenly feeling warmer than it did a few moments prior. You look down at your blankets, focusing on anything other than the person in front of you. This level of teasing is nothing new with Dabi, he always manages to fluster you. 

He sits, relaxed, waiting for you to make a move. There aren’t any other options that you can think of, so you give into what he wants. Moving closer to his face, you feel his warm breath fanning against your skin. Your hand twitches, pressing against his chest to offer balance.

Squeezing your eyes closed, you tilt your head, soft lips brushing over his own. All of your movements are hesitant, your entire body feeling like it’s on fire. Heart pounding violently against your chest, you move to pull back. Only to discover his hand on the back of your head is stopping you from doing so.

Dabi slants his lips back over your own, nibbling your bottom lip. You freeze, the unexpected affection leaving you incapable of reacting. It’s when you squeak that he finally loosens his grip, opening his eyes to take in your embarrassed countenance. 

All things considered, it wasn’t an unpleasant experience. 

You cover your burning face with your shaking hands, feeling the warmth emanating off of you. He makes it even worse by chuckling, the low rumble filling you with indignation. There never is hope of catching a break with Dabi. 

“You might be the one with a fire quirk after all,” he leans forward, placing a hand against your hot forehead. “Mm... that look you’re giving me is too much. You have to be doing it on purpose at this point.” 

Fed up with his relentless teasing, you smack his hand away and purse your lips. He props his arms behind his head, letting you glare at him to your heart’s content. From his lack of reaction, you get the feeling he isn’t too intimidated by you. 

“Whatever, I’m going to bed,” you huff, returning to your side and pulling up the blankets. He doesn’t make a move to stop you, and you take the opportunity to lay down on your side. Refusing to look at him, you focus on the wall. 

Dabi pokes your cheek, which you ignore. 

He lets out a long sigh at your antics, joining you underneath the covers. You hear shuffling behind you, and can’t help but wonder what it is that he’s up to. Maybe he’s succumbing to his own exhaustion, and will let you sleep in peace? What a perfect world it’d be if that’s the case.

The thought is entertained for three seconds before you’re pulled against his firm chest from behind, toned arms snaking around your torso and staying there. His body is always so warm. It doesn’t help that you’re already embarrassed from before. Dabi grumbles something incoherent, placing his head in the crook of your neck. 

Accepting the situation for what it is, you stop moving. He reaches over you to turn off the light, and darkness surrounds you once more. All you can hear are your own labored breaths, and rapidly pounding heart. It might be impossible to sleep like this. 

You’ll call out of work for tomorrow. 

“... Dabi?” you whisper, voice soft and barely audible. He grunts in response, nuzzling further into your neck. For the past few months, there’s been a thought that haunts you at every turn. One that you can never find an answer to, and have been too frightened to investigate beyond your own musings.

It’d be easy to play this off as sexual attraction alone, yet a voice in the back of your head says otherwise. That what Dabi feels for you goes beyond that, into a sinister territory that you want desperately to avoid. Why is it he’s patient -- borderline kind -- with you, yet cruel to everyone else? None of it makes logical sense, his actions erratic and seemingly without reason.

Maybe you shouldn’t know. Still, you ask, against your better judgement. 

“Why do you like me so much?” 

You feel how he smiles against the skin of your neck, the sensation stirring up unknown emotions within. He squeezes you against him once, letting out a low hum as he considers your words. While waiting for him to speak, you hold in a breath. 

“Dunno. Just do,” Dabi offers a noncommittal response, one that leaves you greatly unsatisfied. It seems he’s not even aware of it himself, the effect you have on him unlike anything he’s ever experienced. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” 

“... Alright, I won’t.” 

“Good. Now get some sleep, before I ask you to kiss me again.” 

[saurexhas]

Love is Blind - Part 3

We’re back to MC’s perspective with this one, and prepare for feels!

Fun fact, as someone who rarely writes xreader stuff, the sheer amount of times I write you or your is driving me crazy because I legit cannot replace them with some other descriptor like I would in third person to break things up XD

As always, mind the tags, you never know what I get up to when I’m writing angst :)

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Blinding pain was all you could recall as your mind drifted towards consciousness, hazy memories mingling with your dreams. You could hear Nightmare calling to you, his voice raw with so many emotions that it was almost overwhelming. The others could be heard too, though most of their voices had a somber note to them. Yet as you tried to recall what you could see, the only thing that came to you was the colour red.

With no means of making sense of the fragmented memories, your mind let them go only to be replaced with new sensations as you truly started to wake. Every little shift brought pain, your face feeling like it was still being burned by Ink. Your limbs felt stiff, like there was something restraining them, though at least your surroundings were soft. It felt like your bed, the same soft sheets and blankets that Nightmare had gotten for you. But as you thought of the dark god, you were made acutely aware of just how dark it was right now.

Nothing you did could alleviate the darkness; it was the same whether your eyes were open or closed. Considering how even your eyes ached and burned, it felt better to keep them closed for now since nothing could fix the crushing darkness. As panic set in, your movements became more erratic. Even if you knew you were safe within your room in the castle, that fear still gripped your soul with relentless strength. Blankets were nearly ripped off in your efforts to escape, and as you sat up in bed you hoped that your negativity would be a beacon to Nightmare.

The feeling of cool, slippery bones sliding against your cheek served to snap you out of your hysteria, your hopes answered in the familiarity of Nightmare’s presence. With his touch, you felt him steal away the negativity within you, leaving you calm if feeling a bit empty. He only absorbed your emotions whenever they were clearly out of control, so you were never too mad at him for doing so since they would come back after a while. And it served this time to calm you down from the panic that had consumed you, allowing you to relax as you leaned into the hand still resting against your cheek.

“There we go, little moon, you’re alright,” Nightmare cooed, his thumb rubbing against your face while his tentacles all moved to ensure you remained calm. While you couldn’t see them, they remained close enough that you could feel them crawling along, finding different places to rub against in a petting motion. “Just relax for me, okay?”

“A-Alright,” you stuttered out, melting under his precise touches. A sigh left your mouth as the previous tension within you let go, leaving you feeling truly relaxed. As much as you wanted to simply stay in the peaceful moment though, a thought kept nagging at you as you turned your head in the direction of his voice. “Night… why can’t I see you? E-Even if I open my eyes, it’s… just black. T-There’s nothing.”

The appendages currently touching you froze for just a second, and even as they continued their comforting motions, there was a stiffness to them that wasn’t present before. Silence filled the room for quite a time, all the while you waited with growing dread. Eventually, your partner spoke up, but his words weren’t what you were expecting. “What do you remember happening on our little outing to Outertale?”

“Outertale?” You echoed, thinking back on what you could recall. The two of you had been watching the stars, enjoying a moment of peace away from the crew. But that peace was shattered by the Star Sanses ambushing you, attacking Nightmare while he had nobody to fight alongside. You could recall Ink pursuing you despite Nightmare’s efforts to keep the Stars focused solely on him, and you remembered the joint attack that you saw coming from Dream and Ink. That attack would’ve crippled Nightmare if it didn’t kill him, and you clearly remembered your last-minute decision to save him despite the risk. Beyond that though, everything was a blur. “I… I remember the fight, and… I remember how the Stars were teaming up to take you down. I know I tried to save you, but… I don’t remember what happened after that…”

You trailed off, frowning at the gap in your memory that stopped you from answering any questions you may have had. The frown was quickly swept away though as you felt a gentle ‘kiss’ placed against the back of your hand, Nightmare’s teeth mimicking the affectionate gesture as they pressed against your skin. “Yes, you saved me, little moon. You saw right through my brother’s trickery, and you risked your own life to save mine. Part of me wishes to berate your foolishness for rushing into such danger, but… I’m more angry at myself for being unable to save you in turn.” The hand rubbing against your cheek shifted up to your temple, gently brushing against the underside of your eye. Yet you couldn’t feel his bones directly, merely the pressure indicating the presence.

Something was in the way, preventing him from touching you directly at that spot. Before his tentacles could stop you, your free hand reached up only to freeze at the far too familiar feeling. “B-Bandages? Night, w-why are my eyes covered in bandages?”

Your trembling hand was gently coaxed away from your face, a soft tentacle wrapping around the limb and pulling it back down. While you now knew why the world was dark for you, it only brought up so many more questions, and from the sound of Nightmare’s sigh, he didn’t want to tell you. “MC, you… Dream- ugh, this is harder to say delicately than I expected.”

“Then spit it out!” You almost growled, panic and desperation clawing at your soul. Until you had an answer, the feeling wouldn’t go away, even if your partner tried to force apathy upon you.

Thankfully, the dark god hadn’t resorted to attempting such, a groan of displeasure leaving him. You tightened your grip on his hand, silently begging him to simply be blunt if stepping around the issue was too difficult. Any answer would be better than nothing at this point… at least that’s what you thought.

Your opinion on the matter very quickly changed as Nightmare spoke up. “When Dream fired his arrow, you pushed me out of the way of his strike. Your actions spared me, but… his arrow damaged your eyes. That alone wouldn’t have been so difficult to deal with, however Ink, that chaotic little devil… his paint hit both of us. It did little to hurt me since my brother’s attack missed, but…” The dark skeleton trailed off, and you could’ve sworn that you heard him sniffle a bit. Such a “weak” display of emotion was uncharacteristic of him, even in front of you. “I’m so sorry little moon, but his paint got into your eyes. It burned them, and… we couldn’t undo the damage. You… I’m afraid you’re blind.”

“W-What?” Your voice was barely more than a whisper as you processed his words, finding yourself riddled with disbelief. There’s no way you could be blind, there’s no way the guys failed to heal you. Cross and Pyre had both taken care of your injuries in the past, and you knew that Nightmare’s preferential treatment of you made them too scared to fail for fear of his wrath. “You… you have to be wrong… t-there’s no way I’m suddenly blind!”

“MC, please calm down. You’re still recovering from your injuries, you could hurt yourself-”

“I’m already hurt, Nightmare! You told me I’m fucking blind!” You screamed, your eyes stinging as if they were trying to produce tears. Yet you couldn’t feel anything, not even the damn bandages growing damp. Growing furious, your hand shot up to rip them away, your arm pulling out of the tentacle’s lax grip with ease. The bandages had to be the reason you couldn’t see, it wasn’t that you were blinded!

Just as your hand managed to touch the soft fabric, the tentacle returned to grappling your limb with renewed vigor. “MC, stop this foolishness! You’ll only hurt yourself further!” Nightmare snapped, the tentacle continuing to wind its way around your arm and pull with increasing strength. Gritting your teeth, you dug your fingers into the bandages, determined to pull them away, and simply stopped fighting against the tentacle.

Your arm was yanked from your head, tearing bandages and damaging the still-healing flesh beneath. But despite the pain, you opened your now uncovered eye only for despair to hit you. “I… I-I’m blind,” you mumbled, feeling a sob build in the back of your throat even as your eyes refused to let you cry. They only continued to burn, the sensation growing worse the longer you held your eye open for. “I-I’m blind… I’m blind... I-”

Several tentacles wrapped tightly around you, bringing you closer to Nightmare as he hugged you to his chest. It managed to stop your spiralling thoughts, your hands digging into his jacket as you tried to come to terms with reality. Nightmare wasn’t lying; you really had been blinded by the Stars.

Some of your negativity was siphoned off, but most of it remained so that you could process your emotions and not simply run from them. Part of you wished to ask for the same emotionless bliss that Killer enjoyed, even if temporary, but you knew that your partner wouldn’t oblige. Still, he at least made the swirling negativity within you easier to handle, allowing you to have your moment with the god’s silent support.

It was only when the maelstrom within you calmed that he pulled away, his fingers brushing against the tender, burnt skin on your face. You couldn’t help the flinch, now keenly aware of the pain that your actions caused. The skeleton said nothing as he shifted, rustling being heard from what you assumed was the nightstand. It wasn’t much longer before the rest of the ripped bandages were stripped away, the air stinging your face until they were replaced with fresh ones that hid your injuries from the world once again.

“There, I’ll have to apply a cream to your facial burns a bit later, it seems you managed to rip open some of the blisters so I’ll wait until Cross can heal them.” More rustling could be heard from around the nightstand again, and you so desperately wished that you could simply see what was going on rather than trying to guess. “In the meantime, you should eat something now that you’re awake.”

One thing you were at least acutely aware of was Nightmare’s presence; the air around him was always a degree or two cooler, and there was a faint aura of dread that emanated from him. In your time together, you’d grown so used to his aura that it no longer bothered you. What did bother you was when you felt that aura pull away, your panic surging at the thought of being left alone. Without thought, you blindly reached out for him, managing to grab one of his slippery tentacles despite his movements. “P-Please! Don’t go! I... I-I don’t want to be alone…”

“MC, I’m just going to the kitchen to have Pyre prepare you something to eat,” he argued. Despite the fact that your eyes were hidden by bandages, you immediately tried to put on your best puppy-dog eyes, the one look that you knew he couldn’t resist. If it was from an actual puppy, Nightmare might’ve kicked the thing away out of annoyance, but you’d worn him down to where he caved to your begging almost every time.

This time was no exception, the god of negativity sighing as his tentacle wrapped around your arm and his presence returned to your side. “Alright, I’ll remain here for now. When one of the others comes to check in, I’ll send them to get your meal. Will that appease you?”

“Mhm,” you simply hummed, following the tentacle back to Nightmare’s chest where you proceeded to snuggle into it. He might’ve been seen as cold and cruel to everyone else, but he was nothing but a source of comfort for you. It would take quite a bit of adjustment and probably a few more meltdowns before you properly came to terms with your newfound blindness, but for now you felt surprisingly calm as you simply enjoyed the moment of rare peace in the castle.

“Hey Night, do they know we’re a couple yet?”

Just as your partner went to answer, the door to your room slammed open, causing you to jolt and pull back.

“Woah, not what I was expecting to walk into!” Killer’s voice echoed throughout the room, your face heating up despite your best efforts. “Didn’t know that you were into cuddles, boss! Guess it takes a certain special someone to make ya all soft~”

A groan left Nightmare’s mouth, and you could practically envision him pinching the bridge of nose at Killer’s words. “If they didn’t before, then they definitely know now.”

The two of you didn’t hear the end of it from Killer until Nightmare slammed the door in his face, though he could be heard loudly blabbing about what he’d seen to everyone in the castle. Yelling would be a more apt word. Still, it at least brought some of the others to check on you now that you were awake. Cross tended to your burns with some healing magic, dulling the pain and taking care of the blisters that you broke open in your earlier hysteria. Pyre rambled off something about cooking from the great Papyrus before darting off as quick as he came, returning with a bowl of soup that honestly smelled delicious right around the time Cross left. Nightmare never left your side the entire time, treating your wounds alongside Cross while one of his tentacles almost never broke contact with you. It was more reassuring than you would’ve thought it would be, allowing you to physically feel that he was staying with you just as he said he would.

It was strange having everyone fuss over you so much, though you guessed that might’ve been the fact that your relationship with Nightmare was now out in the open. It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be though, as everyone except for Killer was respectful. Killer… well, there was only so much you could expect from someone who insulted others for the fun of it, so it wasn’t too surprising nor hard to deal with. It was almost… easier now that you didn’t have to hide your feelings for the lord of the castle, and it might’ve been your imagination but the others almost seemed to be treating you better than before. Pyre was always kind to you, and Cross was never difficult, but they seemed to be treating you a bit more carefully now than before. It was likely all in your head though, merely some of the castle’s nicer residents showing compassion to you in one of your times of weakness. Killer certainly wasn’t acting any differently. Regardless, the biggest source of comfort was your boyfriend sitting next to you, never leaving your side even as the warm meal, healing magic, and sheer emotional drain left you nodding off and relaxing back into the covers of your bed.

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[jingyismom]

Another twt threadfic import! Wangxian, 9k, post-CQL getting together Explicit, No Warnings POV switches wildly at will, and LWJ gets drunk but nothing happens at that point! Proceed for humor, tension, sweetness, and spice.

Anybody else think about what would happen if post-CQL, pre-relationship wangxian were traveling and Lan Do-Not-Indulge-In-Pleasure Wangji walked in on his very good friend Wei Wuxian...

...Indulging In Pleasure?

First, he would Run. Door slammed shut. Possibly colliding with a few walls while he tries to figure out how to Get Away to Meditate Immediately.

Wei Wuxian comes after him asap to apologize. There is a lot of overlapping apologizing, and little to no eye contact.

Maybe after, though, Wei Wuxian would feel a little...frisky. And a tiny bit defensive. "Lan Zhan, everybody does it!! It's not THAT upsetting!"

Lan Wangji cuts a glare at him. "Everyone does not do it."

Wei Wuxian suddenly has a lot of new things to think about.

(This is only ONE interpretation of Lan Wangji's relationship to self-pleasure...but it's a pretty fun one imo)

Wei Wuxian can't stop thinking about it. Has Lan Wangji really never...like NEVER never...is that. How could he even ask that? He can't, right? It'd be weird.

It Eats At Him. He loses sleep.

Coincidentally, so does Lan Wangji. They both lie awake at night in their shared room, very determinedly Not Thinking About the things they have learned.

Lan Wangji recites rules for hours trying to get the image of what Wei Wuxian looks like when he's doing THAT out of his mind.

Maybe, ages after Wei Wuxian thought Lan Wangji had fallen asleep, he hears him shift. It's a small sound but Wei Wuxian knows Lan Wangji doesn't move at all when he's really out.

"Can't sleep?" He says into the dark.

Lan Wangji takes a long time to answer. He's debating pretending not to hear. "No."

Wei Wuxian sort of thinks he knows why, but isn't sure exactly WHY why...like. Is Lan Wangji freaked out and disgusted? Is he confused? Is he...intrigued?

"It's because of the rules, right?" He asks instead. "It's a Lan thing."

Again, Lan Wangji takes a long time to answer.

It is only partly true. It is a rule, in a way. At least, that's how Lan Wangji had interpreted it when he was young. But it became a mixture of habit and shame, of self-disgust. And then after Nightless City, it simply did not occur to him. His body did not seem to work that way anymore.

He can't say any of that.

"Yes." It's not entirely a lie.

The horrible inconvenience of his body working that way, again, now, is another thing entirely. He does his best to ignore it. He does not want to address it. Meditation is his best friend once again.

"I really thought you'd started bending rules," Wei Wuxian muses aloud. "That's such a...specific one to stick to."

Lan Wangji has no answer for this. He honestly agrees.

After a pause Wei Wuxian goes on. "You never even thought about it? What about if you marry? Or what if you NEVER marry?"

Even in the oddly comforting unreality of the dead of night, Lan Wangji can't begin to discuss most of this.

"You said yourself no woman would want to marry me," he deflects.

"Ugh, did I?" Wei Wuxian says. "I suppose I did. Stupid. Anybody would be crazy not to want to marry you."

The silence after this declaration is particularly loud. Wei Wuxian covers it with an awkward laugh. "Anyway, I guess you probably think it's just another way the rest of the world is...gross. And...debaucherous. Huh."

Lan Wangji hears the self-effacement in his tone. "No. It is natural."

Wei Wuxian goes silent for a long moment. "Then why the rule?"

"It is...easier," Lan Wangji struggles to merge truth with the fib. "To deny one's—it is not a question of judgment. Do not worry, Wei Ying."

Wei Wuxian huffs. "I'm not worried, Lan Zhan." Well, he's not anymore. But then he processes the rest of it. "So. Then, it's less of a rule? And...more of...a...guideline?"

Lan Wangji says nothing. He's already said too much. He should be asleep. He should have pretended he was.

Wei Wuxian doesn't know why he's pushing this so hard. He can't make his mouth stop saying words, carried forward on a tide of morbid curiosity and an abstract sense of unjust wastefulness. If Lan Wangji is going to miss out on the natural pleasures of life, he at least wants to understand.

"That's a lot of years of dedication to a not-rule," he says.

Lan Wangji is silent, again.

"Must be difficult," Wei Wuxian insists.

Lan Wangji resists the urge to say both "it isn't" and "it is."

"You're not even curious?"

Lan Wangji is not. He understands the concept. Understands the truly unsettling ferocity of his own feelings, his own desire. Understands that some things, once begun, have a way of getting under one's skin and living there. The combination of these things is unthinkable.

"You could ask, if you were," Wei Wuxian goes on, unperturbed. "I don't mind."

This is not what Lan Wangji thought he meant. His mind is suddenly bursting with the most inappropriate of questions: mainly, horribly, "What do you think of, when you do it?"

"I would not," he manages to say.

"No, you wouldn't, would you," Wei Wuxian concedes. He is aware, distantly, that he is trying to cover up the acute awkwardness of being caught with his dick out with the hazier, less severe awkwardness of talking too much. It doesn't stop him. "You're not made of jade, but you do like to pretend you are."

He knows, immediately, even before Lan Wangji's sharp intake of breath, that he's said the wrong thing.

"Ah, Lan Zhan, I didn't mean that. I didn't." The silence is accusing, unforgiving. "I'm sorry. That was wrong."

Lan Wangji just lies there, silently blindsided. This is how Wei Wuxian sees him. Not as the bloodless statue of a man others see, but as a man desperately trying to realize that vision. And this...all of this, has only reinforced it.

"No," he says quietly. "You are right. It is easier."

"You keep saying that," Wei Wuxian says after a thoughtful silence. "Easier than what?"

This, Lan Wangji does not have the words to explain. There is no way to encompass the depth and breadth of it.

"It is time for sleep," he says.

Wei Wuxian chuckles darkly. "It was time for sleep ages ago. But alright. I can take a hint."

Neither of them sleep.

~~~

Days pass, and they do not speak of the incident again, though neither of them find themselves capable of forgetting it. The next time it comes up is completely by virtue of a series of accidents.

At dinner Wei Wuxian, in the habit of adding more food to Lan Wangji's bowl every time Lan Wangji adds some to his, does so without looking at what he is doing. When Lan Wangji hurries to douse the fire on his tongue with water, the nearest cup to his grasp contains something else entirely.

Wei Wuxian fortunately catches him before his head hits the table, this time.

When he wakes, bleary and unsteady, Wei Wuxian hustles him up and over to the stairs before he can get loose and wreak havoc. He learned his lesson the last time.

He helps Lan Wangji up to their room with an arm around his waist, and it's necessary but still feels a little bit like a violation. Lan Wangji does not like to be touched. It is probably a blessing that he won't remember this come morning.

Wei Wuxian is proud that they only stumble once before he figures out how to hold up the hems of both their robes with his one free hand, even with the distracting, warm weight of Lan Wangji's head on his shoulder. Once in the room, however, Wei Wuxian begins to regret his strategy of supervised confinement. There is nothing to do but sit while Lan Wangji stares at him, unfocused but intent.

"Lan Zhan...are you in there?"

Lan Wangji nods but doesn't break his stare. The room feels uncomfortably warm.

Wei Wuxian rolls his head back to look at the ceiling. Maybe a couple of petty crimes are worth ending this...but no. It wouldn't do to have rumors of Hanguang-jun vandalizing farms across the land. As funny as it would be, it wouldn't do at all. Wei Wuxian groans.

He stands and begins to putter around the room, pacing when that fails. Lan Wangji watches him with his silent, heavy gaze. The room really is far too warm.

Wei Wuxian unbuckles his belt to get rid of his thick outermost layer. Lan Wangji makes a small noise and laboriously turns himself around to face the wall.

"Lan Zhan? You alright?"

"Mn," comes the reply, with an exaggerated nod.

"What are you looking at over there?" He's irrationally half afraid Lan Wangji could start hallucinating.

"Away."

"A what?"

"Looking away."

"From?"

Lan Wangji glances over his shoulder, slow and shy, his heavy-lidded eyes falling on Wei Wuxian's hands at his belt.

The room gets warmer.

"Ah...hahaha...Lan Zhan. I'm just feeling a little hot, okay? Don't spit blood."

He takes off his belt. Lan Wangji faces the wall. When he shrugs off his long, thick vest, Lan Wangji starts wobbling, and it takes Wei Wuxian a confused minute before he realizes he's trying to stand up. He rushes to help.

"What now??"

"Leaving."

Wei Wuxian sighs. It has begun.

"You can't leave, Lan Zhan, it's late. Where will you go?"

"Outside." He's tugging insistently against the hand holding onto his arm.

"Okay," Wei Wuxian relents. He does sort of want to get out of this room. Get some fresh air. "Alright. Let's go."

Lan Wangji makes a distressed noise and tears his arm away. "Alone."

Wei Wuxian stares. "You can't—why?"

"Privacy."

"You—what do you need—" Wei Wuxian deliberately drops the question. "Sorry, Lan Zhan, you can have privacy in here, OR you can go outside. Not both."

Lan Wangji pouts. It's horrible. Wei Wuxian is not equipped to handle it. He opens his mouth to distract him.

Lan Wangji speaks first. "Not me. You."

"Me what?"

"Privacy."

Wei Wuxian's brain stalls, unable to follow Lan Wangji's logic. "What for?"

Lan Wangji makes a gesture at him that manages to be sloppy, elegant, and vaguely suggestive all at once. Wei Wuxian's face heats.

"I'm--I'm not. Doing. I wasn't going to do anything, Lan Zhan. I was just taking off one layer, see? To be more comfortable."

Lan Wangji blinks, unfocused, and sways. He's silent long enough that Wei Wuxian starts to relax and hope that he might just fall asleep. Which would be a blessing, given how difficult his heavy stare and softly parted lips are making it for Wei Wuxian not to Think Bad Thoughts.

Lan Wangji, however, is trying very hard to think thoughts with very limited success.

"Why?"

Wei Wuxian frowns at him. Which is bad.

"Why not?" He tries again. His words are not very good at present.

"Why am I not comfortable? It's a warm night."

Wei Wuxian is speaking slowly, like Lan Wangji is a child who does not understand such things. Lan Wangji frowns. He understands plenty.

He shakes his head and makes the motion again, the one Wei Wuxian understood. "Why not?"

Wei Wuxian is silent a long while, his face screwed up strangely. Lan Wangji wants to pat it smooth but knows he should not.

"It's..hah, Lan Zhan, it's not like people are always...you're not always...in the mood, you know?"

Lan Wangji does not know. He cannot, at this moment, conceive of not being at least slightly aroused. And besides there is nothing different now from the time he had seen—no, he does not think of that.

"Why?"

Wei Wuxian sighs. He almost looks sad. That's bad.

"Sometimes you're thinking of other things, or busy, or lonely, or..."

Wei Wuxian keeps speaking, but Lan Wangji has stopped listening. Wei Wuxian need not be lonely. He is here. He can help. He can help with this and Wei Wuxian will stop looking sad.

"Not alone," he says. "’M here."

Wei Wuxian stops talking, and smiles at him. Good.

"That's true."

Lan Wangji nods. Good. Wei Wuxian smiles some more, and shakes his head.

"Don't you think it's time to go to bed, Lan Zhan?"

Lan Wangji's ears heat. He would like to. He did not expect Wei Wuxian to ask. He nods and takes Wei Wuxian's wrist, pulling him toward the bed. Wei Wuxian makes an odd sound when they get there, and Lan Wangji looks down at where he's holding onto him, to make sure his grip is not too tight.

"Lan Zhan, I'm not sleepy," Wei Wuxian says. "You can...you can sleep though."

Lan Wangji stares at him with that same, open-mouthed stare. Wei Wuxian's own mouth is very dry.

"Not sleepy."

"Okay," says Wei Wuxian, jittery. "Maybe. You could just try lying down. And see if you get sleepy."

Lan Wangji looks at the bed. And then looks at Wei Wuxian.

"Not sleepy."

"...Okay."

Lan Wangji tugs on Wei Wuxian's wrist. Wei Wuxian's stomach lurches. He clears his throat.

"What is it?"

Unsteadily, Lan Wangji turns toward him. He reaches for the ties of Wei Wuxian's robes.

Wei Wuxian grabs his wrists and holds them away from himself as if they're on fire. A nervous laugh fights its way out of his mouth.

"Ah, Lan Zhan, I...I'm good. I'm not warm anymore. I'm fine. Happy. Like this. Okay?"

"Happy," Lan Wangji repeats.

"Yeah."

Lan Wangji seems to consider this.

Eventually, he relents, and goes to sleep.

Wei Wuxian sits up all night wondering if Lan Wangji was actually trying to do what it seemed like he was trying to do, and what it might mean if he was.

~~~

The time after that, it is Wei Wuxian's fault entirely.

It has been three days since Lan Wangji's accidental drunken night, and Wei Wuxian can't stop thinking about the intent in his drowsy gaze, or the brief second Lan Wangji's hands were at his waist. Every night when they go to bed, the room, the inn, are different. But the tension created in his spine by the memory of wanting and being so close but so far, is the same.

Wei Wuxian wants to drink.

But he knows that he probably should not under any circumstances get tipsy alone with Lan Wangji if he wants to preserve their friendship. So drinking is out. But he needs...he feels like he's going crazy. He needs some kind of...release. And it's been days, he's been too keyed up to try jerking off since The Incident. Plus Lan Wangji has just always been nearby. Which is great, actually, he would gladly go on forever this way, but it's also not ideal when being around him at all has been getting him half hard with no way to take care of it.

But they're two mature adults. They fight monsters every day. Wei Wuxian has been dead for crying out loud. It shouldn't be hard to ask for some privacy. It's understandable that he should need some, sometimes. Lan Wangji had seemed to understand even when he was drunk out of his mind. Of course he understands—Wei Wuxian has only gone a few days and he's starting to fray, imagine Lan Wangji going all these years without. Imagine if he ever did...it

would probably be. It'd probably be...really...

He doesn't think about it. He doesn't ask.

He decides to sneak off into the woods, instead. Except, when he gets up to leave, Lan Wangji gets up as well.

"Ah...are you. Going out too?" Wei Wuxian asks.

Lan Wangji blinks at him, and backs up a step in that unconscious way of his. "Apologies. I assumed, from the hour, that you had deemed it was time for us to eat."

"Oh. We could do that."

Lan Wangji shakes his head. "I would not infringe on your plans."

Wei Wuxian cringes internally. "You're not. I was just...I was just. Going. Out. To...to walk."

Lan Wangji stares at him with new suspicion. Wei Wuxian crumbles.

"I needed some privacy."

Lan Wangji's ears heat, and his eyes slip to the ground. "I see."

Wei Wuxian turns as if to leave again, and suddenly Lan Wangji realizes that he has nowhere to go.

"Stay. I will go."

"Ah, you don't have to, Lan Zhan, don't worry about it."

"Nonsense. It is more comfortable here."

He barely gets through the sentence once it registers what he is saying. What they are discussing happening in this room. His ears are on fire.

"Yeah which is why you should just stay here, comfortable."

Lan Wangji shakes his head and moves to brush past him.

"Or we could both say."

Wei Wuxian has no idea what makes him say it. He's playing with fire, and this was not the plan. But he keeps hearing Lan Wangji's sad voice saying it is easier. The loneliness in it. A twisted part of him doesn't want Lan Wangji to be left out in the cold. Literally or metaphorically.

Lan Wangji has frozen. He does not know what Wei Wuxian is suggesting. Does not want to assume. Does not want to even entertain the idea that he might mean—

"I don't mind if you don't," Wei Wuxian goes on.

Mind? Lan Wangji does not mind. That is not the cause of the white noise now roaring in his head.

"It's up to you. We both stay, or I can go,” says Wei Wuxian.

It is childishly manipulative, transparently so. On reflex, Lan Wangji cuts a glare at him, but quickly looks away. It feels lewd to look at him at all, just now.

"You could...play a song, or something, if..."

Lan Wangji has to look at him then. He wants him to play for him while he...while he...

Wei Wuxian's face scrunches up. "That...that's probably. This is probably weird. You probably don't want to be aware of—this was weird. Forget it. You can go, I can go. I just thought you might not mind, since—"

He cuts off as if he's said something he didn't mean to.

"Since?" Lan Wangji prompts. He has no idea where the sentence was meant to lead.

"Ah..." Wei Wuxian rubs the back of his head. "That night you drank my wine," he starts.

Lan Wangji's stomach drops.

"Ah, it's nothing bad!" Wei Wuxian hurries to say. "Don't look so upset."

"What did I say?"

Wei Wuxian has been acting distant the last few days. This explains everything. He must have said something untoward. Unacceptable.

"You didn't really say anything much."

Lan Wangji's alarm heightens.

"Did I—do—"

"Don't worry!" Wei Wuxian almost shouts. He can't handle the stricken expression on Lan Wangji's usually calm face. "You didn't do anything bad."

"Then what—"

"You...sort of. You. You wanted to help, is all."

Lan Wangji's eyes widen further. He looks absolutely horrified. Wei Wuxian wants to kick himself.

"I—it wasn't—"

Except it was sort of like that. But not in...not in a bad way. It was sort of...weirdly cute. He doesn't think he can say that. He takes a deep breath.

"It wasn't bad. Nothing happened. You just seemed...you weren't upset by the concept."

Lan Wangji stares at him.

"...But you clearly are now, so."

There is a long, awkward silence. Lan Wangji stares hard at the wall.

"It does not upset me," he hazards. He wants to be clear on this. Does not want Wei Wuxian to think him judgmental, or a prude.

"Okay."

"It is natural to require privacy for such things."

"Yes."

"Therefore I shall leave you."

"...If you like."

That strange opening, once again. The offer to...to share space, while he—

"What would you like?" Lan Wangji finds himself saying. His breath leaves him with the words.

"I'd like to know what really keeps you from doing it, even now."

Lan Wangji looks at him, shocked.

"If you just didn't want to, or didn't feel like it, that would be one thing," he goes on, "but that's not what you said."

Lan Wangji curses himself for speaking so freely, that night. "Why does it matter?"

Wei Wuxian frowns at him, thinking.

"Because sometimes, I think you find little ways to punish yourself. You don't deserve that. Especially not like this."

It feels like a physical strike, and Lan Wangji flinches from it. The worst part of it is that it might even be true.

"Pot. Kettle. Black," he counters.

Wei Wuxian huffs. "That's fair. Yeah, that's fair."

"So is your point," Lan Wangji is forced to concede. "Possibly."

Wei Wuxian's eyebrows shoot up. "Well, that...that's unfortunate."

"If you say so."

"We should do something about it."

The both of them go very still.

Wei Wuxian did not mean it to sound like such a pointed suggestion.

Lan Wangji does not know what to do with it.

Wei Wuxian laughs again, but it trails off pitifully.

"I didn't mean—" he starts at the same time Lan Wangji says,

"Alright."

They both snap their mouths shut.

Lan Wangji knows he has said the wrong thing, now. Knows he has given away a weakness, read the wrong thing into their situation, making it hopelessly awkward between them at last.

Wei Wuxian takes stock. It's rare for Lan Wangji to express himself like this. He can't shoot him down. He can't let that wounded look stay on his face.

"You could try it," he says. "I could...whatever you need." That sounds wrong. He tries again. "I could answer...questions. Or I could. Be moral support." Everything he says sounds stupid.

Lan Wangji is turning slowly pink. It's extremely fetching. Wei Wuxian can't help but try to deepen the shade, an old reflex.

"I could show you how."

It's a joke, and it's not. He meant to tease, probably. It did not come out that way at all. He can't take it back.

Lan Wangji thinks he should probably feel patronized, but his heart is thudding too hard for him to think clearly. He should say no. Of course he should. He knows what this would do to him, knows he would never be able to look at Wei Wuxian the same. He is already tortured constantly by the glimpse he accidentally stole. This would make things exponentially worse.

But at the same time, contrary to popular belief, he is only a man. How is he to deny something so close to what he has always wanted, freely given? No matter that it means nothing. He cannot quite refuse outright.

"I understand the mechanics," he says instead. Neither a yes nor a no.

Wei Wuxian smiles crookedly. "There's a little more to it than that."

This is somewhat of a genuine surprise. It must show on his face.

"Tips and tricks," Wei Wuxian says, "I know a few."

Lan Wangji can feel his face flushing now, hot and likely obvious. It is not a usual occurrence.

"I've had way more practice than you, you have to admit."

Lan Wangji generally tries not to think of it. "I suppose."

"Ah, Lan Zhan, are you mad there's something I'm better at than you?"

"Of course not," Lan Wangji replies, automatic. "You are very skilled at many things."

Wei Wuxian is grinning at him now. It feels more natural. He realizes he's been baited into relaxing somewhat.

"Alright," says Wei Wuxian, his grin fading a little, "if it's too awkward, then forget it. But the offer stands."

Lan Wangji feels very much pulled along by Wei Wuxian's current. It is a familiar feeling. He does the only thing he knows how to do any longer: he gives in.

"Alright."

Wei Wuxian blinks. In absolutely no part of his mind had he expected Lan Wangji to accept. He doesn't know what he thought. He wasn't actually thinking.

And now...

He. Well. Now he has to do as he said he would.

"Alright," he echoes back. "I...then. Alright."

It should be easy, in a sense. Once he'd become an official Jiang disciple and entered the dorms, it had become a necessity to tune out the presence of other people. But other people aren't Lan Wangji. And he can't remember anyone ever watching. That's certainly...something else. 

He goes back into the bedroom, stripping off layers as he goes. He leaves most of them on—he's pretty sure this isn't supposed to be that kind of show.

Unless it is.

But it's not.

He turns to find Lan Wangji hovering, eyes averted, very much visibly embarrassed, and he has a very genius, very stupid idea.

As a teacher, he has come to appreciate that interactive learning is a powerful tool.

"Lan Zhan," he says, "learning by doing works best, sometimes."

"That is true," Lan Wangji says slowly.

Wei Wuxian shrugs. "Just an idea."

"Clarify." He does not want to misunderstand again.

Wei Wuxian fights his own blush at being made to say it. "We could do it at the same time. I could show you and you could try it. That way I could...you could. It might help."

Help what, he's not sure. He knows how all of this sounds. And yet here they are. He just can't stop himself.

Lan Wangji is having trouble deciding which of Wei Wuxian's suggestions should be accepted and which should be dismissed. He is unversed in what parts of this might cross the line of friendship.

But Wei Wuxian is offering. And in a deep, secret place, deeper even than his hopeless love, a part of him not only wants to see Wei Wuxian this way, but wants to be seen by him. He wants Wei Wuxian to have this part of him, whether he would care to keep it or not. He wants to give it to him more than he wants to have it himself.

"How?"

Wei Wuxian has once again not thought that far ahead. He scans the room, mind scrambling.

"Well. I...could sit. Here. And then you could also...you could sit."

He's staring at his bed, trying to think of a way this is not just him asking Lan Wangji to climb into bed with him. It occurs to him that's what he's been doing this entire time. He almost panics, but then...

Lan Wangji has been agreeing.

He looks at him again. Really looks. He's embarrassed, yes. A little lost. But underneath that, he looks determined.

For whatever reason, Lan Wangji wants this.

It settles the disquiet in Wei Wuxian. There's something Lan Wangji needs, here, and he's in a position to figure out how to let him have it. That's as worthy a cause as any.

"Get comfortable first," he says. "No Hanguang-jun allowed, this lesson is for Lan Zhan only."

Lan Wangji reaches up to take down his elaborate set of hair ornaments, and Wei Wuxian turns to consider the bed. It doesn't look very comfortable to lean on any part of it, so sitting is probably not ideal. It might be a hard sell, but he sees only one option.

"Lan Zhan—"

Lan Wangji is standing behind him, undone and soft. Smaller, without his tall hair and his billowing layers. Vulnerable. Wei Wuxian's heart does something complicated but familiar, and then picks up its pace. He'll have to tread carefully. To be careful with him.

"We'll just lie down first," he says. "Get used to that and go from there."

He expects A Look at the concept of getting used to lying down. But Lan Wangji only nods at the floorboards.

It's a little bit heartbreaking. Wei Wuxian is fairly certain a comforting touch wouldn't help. He stretches out and shimmies over to the side, as far as he can go to leave room. Lan Wangji only hesitates a moment before following suit. It's unfair how graceful he is, even in moments like this.

"Alright?" Wei Wuxian keeps his voice as soft and unobtrusive as he can.

Lan Wangji nods at the ceiling this time, his hands folded over his chest as if ready for sleep.

"It's really not a big deal, once you're used to it," he says, letting his mouth run. "It's like eating, or playing music. You figure out the ways you like to do it, and

try to get better at them." 

He feels silly, giving a lecture on this, but he thinks the chatter is having the desired calming effect. Lan Wangji's breathing looks deeper. More even. But maybe he shouldn't be staring at him so much just now.

He turns to the ceiling, too.

"It's good to start slowly," he says. "Relax, get your body tuned into touch the way you want it to be. Don't just dive straight in."

There is a beat of silence, of stillness.

He actually has to do this now.

He takes a breath and pulls open his robes. Sets a hand on bare skin.

"Like this."

Lan Wangji can barely hear him over the rushing, pounding blood in his ears, in his mind, in his everywhere. He is aware of movement beside him, and the awareness that Wei Wuxian is undressing further, is bare, is touching himself, floods him with something like burning slush.

"Whenever you're ready," Wei Wuxian says, and the rustle of fabric sounds lewd in the silence. "Just touch your stomach or something. Ground yourself."

Hastily, jerkily, Lan Wangji unties his robes and tunic, opening them just enough to lay fingertips on flesh. 

He cannot get enough air.

"When that feels nice, you can try something else. Like finding other places that feel particularly good. You know."

Lan Wangji has vague ideas. He does not really know. Does not think he could find them now, like this, strung so tightly.

"And whenever you feel like it, you can move on to more things. Or even The Thing, depending on how it feels."

Lan Wangji hears the slide of skin on skin. Hears Wei Wuxian's hand moving lower. The displacement of the waistband of his trousers.

He has never been so hard in his life. He wonders if it is possible to die from such a thing. He feels as if he might.

"How is it?" Wei Wuxian asks. His voice is breathier than it was a moment ago.

Lan Wangji feels dampness bloom in his own trousers. He clenches his fists and shuts his eyes.

"Lan Zhan?"

Wei Wuxian glances over, and sees the pained look on Lan Wangji's face. He stops the light, tentative touch he's been using on himself.

"What is it?"

Lan Wangji shakes his head. Wei Wuxian frowns.

"We can stop this right now," he says. "I'm sorry if I pushed it too far. I..."

"No," says Lan Wangji. "You did not. It is not your fault. I should not have agreed."

"Why not?"

Lan Wangji does not know where to begin.

"I should have known I would not be able to."

Wei Wuxian considers this. "There's nothing wrong with not being able to...perform. Under pressure. That—"

Reflexively, he glances down at him, and learns with immediate, brain-melting clarity that performance is not the issue. The sight chokes off the rest of his words. He tries to compose himself. He’s supposed to be helping, not panting like a dog. That's just taking advantage.

"Or. Ah...Do you feel like trying to tell me what the problem is?"

Lan Wangji shakes his head and blows out a frustrated breath. "I am sorry."

"Don't apologize," Wei Wuxian says, resisting the guilt that wants to spring on him. He can troubleshoot this. It's Lan Zhan. He deserves to feel good. "Is it just because I'm here? I can go."

"No," Lan Wangji says quickly. "I will go."

"Lan Zhan..." Wei Wuxian says gently. "You can't go out in public like that."

Lan Wangji knows this. And he has had this problem before, to a lesser extent. He is very good at getting rid of it. Only just now, with Wei Wuxian's warmth palpable beside him, he finds himself unable to concentrate. 

Embarrassment and frustration are rolling off of Lan Wangji in waves. Wei Wuxian casts about, desperate for a solution to the distress he has inadvertently caused.

"Lan Zhan, relax. It's only me. We have time to figure it out. Take a deep breath."

Lan Wangji breathes. It shudders out of him.

"Can I help?" Wei Wuxian asks.

He means it in a general way.

Lan Wangji's eyes snap open and fix him with a disbelieving stare, and he hears, then, how it sounded.

But Lan Wangji looks so...helpless. Almost pleading.

He doubles down.

"Let me help."

Lan Wangji stares at him with confusion just on the edge of fear. Wei Wuxian reaches out to hover a hand over his arm.

"Can I touch you?"

He sees Lan Wangji's throat bob as he swallows hard. He gives the slightest of nods. Wei Wuxian presses down on his bicep in what he hopes is a comforting way, and sweeps his thumb back and forth. Lan Wangji is so warm, even through his remaining layers.

"It's only me," Wei Wuxian says again. He runs his hand down to the fist curled tightly on Lan Wangji's stomach and gently pries it open. He wraps his fingers around his hand and rubs the back of it with his thumb until it relaxes. "It's just us. You trust me, and I trust you, right? Nothing to worry about."

Every word Wei Wuxian says is like another blade to Lan Wangji's gut. He should not be allowing this. In the name of trust, he should not let Wei Wuxian touch him with kindness, with the assumption of pure friendship. He should stop this.

But Wei Wuxian's hand is warm on his. A gesture so simple, reducing Lan Wangji to a hopeless, lovestruck fool. He cannot pull away from it. He could not bear to.

But then Wei Wuxian is moving their hands to rest on the bed between them, and letting go. He slides his hand back up Lan Wangji's arm to his shoulder, then down just slightly. Almost to his chest. Lan Wangji cannot breathe.

Wei Wuxian goes up on an elbow, looking down at him. His robes fall open just slightly, revealing a slice of skin. Lan Wangji looks away.

"Can I show you?" Wei Wuxian asks softly. His hand is a heavy weight. He is asking...he is asking to...

Lan Wangji should say no.

He cannot say it.

He nods. 

When Wei Wuxian's hand moves, when it slides to the center of his chest and beneath the fabric there, Lan Wangji closes his eyes. The first touch is a shock. With considerable effort, he does not flinch. He does not gasp. He keeps still and quiet as the small, shivery waves of sensation roll across his body, growing and fading as more of Wei Wuxian's hand comes in contact with his skin. It rests there, then, and Lan Wangji is grateful for the pause. He needs it to calm himself, to keep from shaking out of his body and into the ether.

But then it begins to move, a slow caress, and Lan Wangji feels all of his hair stand on end.

He did not know touch could feel like this.

"Alright?" Wei Wuxian asks, his hand petting up and down the center of Lan Wangji's chest, gradually widening into oblong circles.

The bright softness of it is beginning to overwhelm Lan Wangji, the sharp awareness it brings to his body unfamiliar and heady. He nods.

They have come this far. He does not know what it would do to him to stop, now. The only way out is through.

Wei Wuxian brushes his fingers out deliberately farther, catching across a nipple. Lan Wangji does not manage to stop his shocked intake of breath at the difference in feeling, at the very pointed, very intense pleasure. Wei Wuxian circles his fingertips almost casually, and does it again. As if it is directly connected, his cock jerks, the damp spot in his trouser spreading. Again, and he clenches his teeth against the sounds working up in his throat.

"Is that too much?" Wei Wuxian asks. He feels unsteady, jittery with adrenaline and determination. He can't believe Lan Wangji is letting him do this. He knows he has to make the most of this one chance.

Lan Wangji shakes his head, and Wei Wuxian gives his nipple a gentle squeeze. At that, Lan Wangji does gasp quietly, his hands fisting tight in the bedding.

"Enough," he forces out, hoarse.

Wei Wuxian's fingers still. "You want—you want me to—"

Lan Wangji nods, his skin flushed with embarrassment and arousal in equal parts. Wei Wuxian moves his hand to rest low on Lan Wangji's stomach, and all his muscles jump and tense in response. It is too intimate, this touch, somehow. More intimate than the others. His cock aches, and leaks, and he is nearly tempted to take it in hand himself. But he is paralyzed still by fearful embarrassment, and now also by his ferocious desire, empowered by all this unexpected fulfillment of distant, illicit hopes.

He waits.

"Lan Zhan, look at me," Wei Wuxian murmurs. He doesn't think he can do this without looking into his eyes and knowing he's really alright.

Lan Wangji's eyes open with a flutter of dark lashes, and their darkness, their intensity, shocks straight through to Wei Wuxian's own arousal. He had expected discomfort and uncertainty. The nerves are there, the slight fear, too, and the embarrassment, yes. But these are nearly subsumed by stormy, determined desire.

Wei Wuxian sees now, he thinks, what Lan Wangji meant. How simply not giving in to the slightest temptation might prove easier than keeping such fierce feeling leashed. He had not realized Lan Wangji might contain such heat, such extraordinary worldly needfulness.

It's insanely arousing. Wei Wuxian struggles not to fall upon him and ravish him on the best of days, but this...

He clears his throat. "Ready?"

Eyes still locked on Wei Wuxian's, Lan Wangji nods, clear and careful. Wei Wuxian slips his hand down, beneath his waistband, immediately hot and slick. He can feel Lan Wangji's hard muscles twitching beneath smooth skin and coarse hair. He lifts his fingers to skim his knuckles along his length, and holds back a shiver. Lan Wangji is hard, and hot, and smooth as silk. And big. Really big.

Wei Wuxian's mouth waters, and that is...a new response to this type of information. He files it away to think about never again.

Lan Wangji can only breathe in short, shallow pants. The light touch is driving him to distraction, too much and not nearly enough. His hips jerk unconsciously. His focus, his restraint, is beginning to drift out of his grasp.

Wei Wuxian wraps his hand around him loosely, and strokes him once from root to tip.

A long breath shudders out of him along with a small, pained sound he does not mean to make. He shuts his eyes tight, but then Wei Wuxian lets go. Lan Wangji makes another sound. Quieter, yet more embarrassing.

"Not enough room," Wei Wuxian says, his hand flat on Lan Wangji's stomach, between his hips.

Lan Wangji does not understand how a touch that was so overwhelming a moment ago could be so grounding now. He is able to fill his lungs easier, for a moment, even though he aches for the touch to return.

"These—can I—” Wei Wuxian tugs at his trousers.

Lan Wangji nods without looking, without thinking. He does not care. Not now.

Wei Wuxian shoves them down. Lan Wangji knows he is shifting, straining for him, but cannot do anything to stop. He is bare and pleading, and he finds he cannot mind at all.

Wei Wuxian knows he shouldn't stare, but it really is impossible not to. Lan Wangji's cock is huge, beautiful, and dark with need. It looks almost painful, honestly, and Wei Wuxian very purposely does not think about how that might be particularly turning him on. Instead he does what he's here to do. He helps.

He touches him gently at first, then more firmly, each stroke coaxing another pulse of precome from his tip. Wei Wuxian didn't even know you could get this wet. But then, he hasn't really taken stock of the state of his own trousers. All of this is very new. He's honestly happy to be surprised.

Lan Wangji is shifting under his hand, breath erratic and noisy, his face contracted in an ecstatic, agonized expression. It's so beautiful Wei Wuxian wishes he could paint it. Wishes he could paint it across the backs of his own eyes and look at it forever.

"Come on, Lan Zhan," he hears himself saying. His voice sounds like a stranger's. "That's good, just let go."

Lan Wangji groans. It's low, and quiet, but it makes Wei Wuxian's cock twitch so hard he gasps.

"Come on," he breathes. "That's right."

Lan Wangji tosses his head to the side and gasps, then visibly bites back another noise. Wei Wuxian tightens his grip and focuses on twisting his hand at the right time, adding and releasing pressure in the right places.

Lan Wangji cuts off a louder sound, sweat breaking out across his skin.

"Wei Ying," he murmurs then, as if dreaming.

Wei Wuxian knows he will be hearing it in his own dreams for the rest of his life.

With one more aborted cry, Lan Wangji's perfectly muscled stomach tenses up in a shallow crescent, and he comes. Head thrown back, throat working with the ragged sounds forced through it. He comes, and comes. Wei Wuxian has never seen this much come in his life. He strokes him, and pulls him through it for what seems like forever. Finally, he quiets, and the ribbons of white shorten and then cease entirely.

Lan Wangji's breaths come hitched and wet, almost like little sobs. Wei Wuxian stares. His mind is entirely, screamingly blank.

At length, Lan Wangji's eyes blink open and look at him with bleary shock. He looks drunk. He looks fucked out. He looks incredible. His eyes are big and damp, his mouth full and red and open. Wei Wuxian wants to—but no. He can't, because—but then Lan Wangji's gaze cuts down to Wei Wuxian's lips, and—

Wei Wuxian leans down and crashes their mouths together. No finesse, no care, no gentleness. He just needs to taste him, to feel him.

Lan Wangji makes a soft, wanting sound and kisses back, sluggish but no less enthusiastic for it. He grabs him with both hands and holds on tight. Wei Wuxian licks into his mouth, hot and soft and insistent, and Lan Wangji hears himself make another awful sound. He tries to keep up, wants distantly to be good at this, feels as if maybe, somehow, if he were, he might be allowed to have it again.

This need collides with the more present one to feel the give of Wei Wuxian's lower lip between his teeth.

Wei Wuxian is the one to make a sound now, sudden and cut-off but needful nonetheless. His fingers dig into Lan Wangji's waist, slippery with come. This combination reawakens Lan Wangji's briefly calmed desire. Now that the dam has burst, he finds himself wanting all sorts of filthy things, most urgently for Wei Wuxian's spend to mix with his own on his skin.

He tries to focus on the kiss. Tries to make Wei Wuxian make that sound again.

Wei Wuxian is losing the struggle not to rut against Lan Wangji's hip. This all started because he was already going out of his mind, and now that the barrier between them has crumbled, what he has wanted hopelessly and what he needs immediately have become the same thing.

"Lan Zhan," he pants against his open mouth, "I...I need. Can I—"

Lan Wangji's fingers dig into his arms. "Yes." His voice is low and shredded. It's so hot Wei Wuxian is surprised he doesn't just come from the sound. "Please."

"Oh, fuck," Wei Wuxian mumbles, and fumbles his trousers down.

He gets a hand around himself—the same hand, still wet, and fuck, oh fuck—but Lan Wangji puts an arm around him and pulls him close, against his side. He sees, out of the corner of his eye, that Lan Wangji is—he's still—

They lock eyes. Wei Wuxian swallows hard. "Do you...do you still need..."

Lan Wangji blinks rapidly, then nods mutely.

He does not actually know. He has no idea what he needs, other than to see what Wei Wuxian might do next.

What he does is push himself up, thighs astride Lan Wangji's hips.

Lan Wangji is not prepared for it. All his breath leaves him once more.

"Is this—too much?" Wei Wuxian asks, leaning over him, breathing hard, pink with his own flush.

Lan Wangji tries not to do anything too extreme, like gripping Wei Wuxian's bare, muscled thighs with both hands.

"It is not," he manages roughly.

Wei Wuxian grinds down against him, and his curse is drowned out by Lan Wangji's sudden, anguished oh.

"Is it—Lan Zhan—is it—"

Lan Wangji's hands are fisted tightly in the bedding, his eyes squeezed shut and turned away. The pale column of his throat is exposed, tense and lovely.

"Please," he breathes.

"Oh, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian chides softly, an odd pang in his chest. "It's alright."

He brushes damp hair from Lan Wangji's face, careful not to touch his ribbon. He leans down close and kisses the corner of his mouth. He's so perfect. Wei Wuxian hates to see him seem so conflicted about something so good.

"You can let go," he says again. He doesn't know how to make him understand. "With me, you can, if you want to. I want you to. I really...if you need—whatever you want. I'm here."

As he speaks, he can't seem to stop his hips from moving, little catches of almost-friction between their cocks making Lan Wangji's breath hitch beneath him.

He doesn't know what he's doing. He could be ruining everything. But he can't stop. He's never been this close to anyone, or wanted anyone this much. And it's not anyone, it's Lan Zhan. He wants him. He wants to make him feel good. He wants to be the person to do that. Preferably forever, but he'll take just this for as long as he can have it.

He kisses Lan Wangji's jaw, his perfect throat.

"Is this good? Do you want it?" He has to ask.

"Yes."

Breathless, the both of them undone. He kisses farther down.

"Do you...do you want to touch me too?" He tries not to sound too hopeful.

A pause, then the hoarse reply. "Yes."

"Then touch me."

Another pause. Hesitant fingertips at his knee, sliding upward. The barest touch of a palm on his thigh. He places his own hand over it and presses it down.

"Hold on," he says.

Then he thrusts against him and bites down gently at the same time.

Lan Wangji grips him hard and gasps, chest heaving against Wei Wuxian's.

"Yeah," Wei Wuxian goads, thrusting again. It feels so good. It feels better than anything he's imagined. "Yeah, like this, Lan Zhan, oh fuck."

It's incredible, and yet he needs more. He does his best to line them up and take them both in hand, but his hand is only so big, and between the two of them he's pleased to say neither of them would be considered small. He tries though, and it's almost perfect. Lan Wangji beneath him, writhing and panting, his helpless little noises and upward thrusts. The slick drag between them as he holds them together. He knows he's not going to last, but he almost doesn't care. The best part is watching him.

Lan Wangji is coming apart. He is reduced to sensation, overcome entirely by the sharpness, the omnipresence of pleasure. The only thing anchoring him to the world is Wei Wuxian's soft voice in his ear, Wei Wuxian's hands on his body. He has no idea if a second release is possible, but for now he is blissfully, mindlessly tossed in the ceaseless current.

He is aware of Wei Wuxian taking his hand and moving it, and then the hot, slick mess of them pressed together in his hand.

"Ah," Wei Wuxian pants against him. "That's—good. Together, like this—oh, fuck, Lan Zhan, your hand is—I—"

He groans right under Lan Wangji's ear, and it's so obscene, so honest, that Lan Wangji's climax drags him under with no warning. It feels like every vein, every nerve bursting, filling his limbs, his mind, his mouth with something bittersweet. Like something breaking in him beyond repair.

Lan Wangji moans, long and low and pleading, as he comes. The sound, the sight, the tightening of his hand around them, are all too much. It sends Wei Wuxian over the edge after him, jolting and groaning. He looks down to watch, awed where he might've thought he should be disgusted. In the height of it, he wants to smear his hands through their spend on Lan Wangji's perfect skin, to paint their names in it.

He doesn't do that. This has already pushed through too many boundaries. He collapses into the mess instead, an unsubtle compromise, and then finds himself too weak to move.

When the euphoria fades, it hits him. What they've just done. What he's done, really. Mad with want and lacking any impulse control whatsoever, he may have just done what demonic cultivation and 16 years of absence couldn't manage. He may have just driven Lan Wangji out of his life for good. He...he thinks, probably, the effect won't be quite that drastic. But he's suddenly afraid it could be.

Lan Wangji comes back to himself warm and pleasantly weighed down. Slowly, as his breathing evens out, the comfort bleeds out of him leaving only exhaustion and nerves.

He is not sure how much he has given away, in this. How much of what he has just done can be excused. He tries to still the tremors that are still pulsing through his muscles. Tries to regain his footing, to think. It is nearly impossible with Wei Wuxian still draped over him, boneless and pliant. But he would not trade it away, not a single moment of it.

Eventually, unfortunately, Wei Wuxian lifts up and off. Lan Wangji feels a moment of stark, certain grief, and turns away from him.

"We should clean up," Wei Wuxian says quietly.

Lan Wangji nods. They should. There is...much to clean.

A hand grasps his arm, sudden and solid.

"Lan Zhan, we're okay, right? I didn't. I didn't...this wasn't wrong."

Lan Wangji shakes his head. It was far from wrong.

"Okay...okay. Then, are you okay?"

Lan Wangji does not want to lie. It is a difficult question. It is possible he is alright. He simply does not know.

"Did you know?" Lan Wangji asks suddenly, without premeditation of any sort. 

He wishes he could shove the words back into his mouth. But he cannot help but wonder. How much of this was...a knowing kindness? How much of this was pity, born of his own horribly obvious desires?

"Know what?"

Lan Wangji takes a breath. As much as he wishes he could, he does not think he could go back. Back to before he had this, knew this, felt this.

"That I wanted you."

There is a stunned silence. The hand on his arm tightens painfully.

"No," Wei Wuxian says. "You—how long?"

Lan Wangji shakes his head. That, he is not sure he can make himself say.

"Did...did you know?"

"Know?" Lan Wangji repeats, confused. Of course he knew his own desires, as unfortunate as they were.

"That I wanted you."

The silence then is suspended. The moment before a fall. Lan Wangji turns.

"You what?"

Wei Wuxian blinks at him. He really is an unparalleled mess. Lan Wangji aches with how much he loves him.

"Lan Zhan," he says, covering sheepishness with a reprimanding tone. "You didn't really think you were the only one, after that?"

Lan Wangji feels as if he is making rather a habit of complete and utter breathlessness. He stares at him, at the earnestly hopeful look in Wei Wuxian's eyes.

"I did not know."

"Well," Wei Wuxian says. "You do now. In case...in case that matters."

Lan Wangji does not know what is happening inside him, but it is riotous. He shoves it down, out of the way. This is something, but it is not...he cannot. He has lied by omission, he feels, too much now. He cannot continue.

"Then you should know," he says, measured as he can, "that what I feel is more than wanting." Wei Wuxian continues to stare at him. Lan Wangji has to look away. "In case that matters."

"It matters," Wei Wuxian says, a thin croak. "It—Lan Zhan, how much more, exactly, could you be, ah, specific? Because I don't want to say the wrong thing, but—"

Lan Wangji cannot bear to speak of it anymore. He unties his ribbon and lays it across Wei Wuxian's palm, at which point Wei Wuxian stops speaking and stares at it, instead of him, for a long moment.

"Lan Zhan..."

Lan Wangji's heart is heavy even as anxiety sparks through his overtired veins. But then, suddenly, he is horizontal again, and there is a riot of a different sort, of heat and limbs and lips, and he is being kissed all over his face.

"How long?" Wei Wuxian is saying again, between sweet pecks and lingering presses. "You wouldn't say. How long?"

"Wei Ying?"

Wei Wuxian can tell Lan Wangji hasn't yet caught up, and it's adorable and sad at the same time. He takes pity.

"I'll go first. I think I've probably loved you since forever, but I didn't know until, well, until I thought I'd lost you, back then. How stupid is that? Now you. Tell me how stupid we both are, how long we could have been doing this."

Lan Wangji is staring at him with unadulterated awe. It's cute, but it also makes Wei Wuxian feel squirmy and uncomfortable. He kisses him again, deep and slow, a new way they haven't tried. It's extremely good.

He manages to tear himself away. "Tell me or I'll stop kissing you," he says. He doesn't even know if it's a good threat. He hopes it is. It'd get him to speak if their places were reversed.

"Always," Lan Wangji breathes, still awed, still wide-eyed and sweet. It gives Wei Wuxian pause.

Lan Wangji sees him looking back through his spotty memories, trying to fit this information into them. He feels a stab of regret that he never made it clear before now. He resolves to make it abundantly clear every moment from here on out. He surges up to kiss those memories away.

It takes a long, long time before they clean up and do anything else.

In the future, Lan Wangji still doesn't make a habit of engaging in self-pleasure. He doesn't have to. Except, of course, when Wei Wuxian realizes he's rather sad he missed out on watching.

~The End~

If you enjoyed this, you can keep up with new threads as they happen on my twitter. If you want to see me in Real Writing Mode, check out my works on ao3!

[1kook]

subdued

— good boy joon on his bday x fem reader

summary; He could so easily take you over in the bedroom, push you down and ram himself inside until you cried. But it’s the other way around, and he likes it that way. tags; birthday boy joon, solo rapper joon, college student reader (unspecified year/age lol), this entire fic is based off THIS joon everyone look and never forget him warnings; kissing, blowjobs, grinding, unprotected, birthday sex, sub!joon word count; 5k

notes; hoooo boy, if you think my other fics were self-indulgent, this one is straight from my 3 am thoughts... anyway. i actually have the same birthday as joon so this fantasy plays off very different in daydream universe no. 794 lol but i understand not everyone is as lucky as us sept 12 babies so i adjusted it 😌

The stoplight down the street from his building takes the longest. He had warned you of its faulty mechanics the very first time you visited. It lingered on red a beat too long, wasted precious seconds you could be spending with him. It’s been the sole challenger to your patience this past year. Every time you wanted to visit him, it was this same stoplight that held you up— made the sugar in his coffee cup settle, the food in its container go cold. It absolutely dampened your mood.

Today, it’s from the back of an Uber that you watch the red glow of the light, gaze fading in and out of focus. It’s raining, the rhythmic pattering of raindrops against the wind shield hypnotizing you. There’s a styrofoam box of takeout beside you falling into the same fate as all its predecessors, tucked inside a plastic bag. It’s his favorite today, the black bean noodles down the street from your university paired with a sickeningly sweet fizzy drink. (There’s a cheap bottle of wine too, but he was never one for getting shitfaced so it had a slim chance of consumption.)

The longer the light stalls, the more nervous you become. One glance at your phone tells you it’s nearing eleven forty-nine, your last message to him just a few minutes before. It was a slew of sad faces as you apologized for the fifth time that night. Another minute ticks by and you’re suddenly hit with the overwhelming fear that you won’t make it on time.

It was Namjoon’s birthday.

At least it would be for the next ten minutes.

You hadn’t seen him all day, your usual Saturday morning brunch postponed by your conflicting schedules. You had a huge group project coming up, and the other students in your group all had lives of their own, jobs, sports, dates, that made their schedules hard to work around. Namjoon, too, was busy gearing up for the release of his mixtape, a collection of songs he had worked hard on for the better half of the year.

He had been planning for this since you first met, around this time the previous year. It was all he ever spoke about these days, which was both endearing and worrisome. Regardless of how you felt about his avid dedication towards his mixtape, you would continue to support him through it all.

You were supposed to drop by after your last class, but one thing led to another and suddenly you were babysitting your neighbor’s kids as she ran off to the hospital. You had felt bad for her, something about a relative in an accident, and had said yes without thinking through what exactly that meant. Two overexcited children and a kitchen lined in cake batter, is what it meant. Your neighbor had returned a little before eleven, and by then you were really cutting it close.

The order you placed had been ready when you got to the little restaurant, and, deciding to forgo bus stop waiting times, the Uber came quickly enough. Because things can never go your way, there was a small accident on one of the major streets that set you back, leading to your driver taking an abrupt detour that you doubt was helpful, and now you were here.

You bite down on your lower lip for probably the umpteenth time, flipping your phone around to check the time. 11:52.

The light changes a second later, your chauffeur for the evening slowly easing his foot off the break and sending the two of you one step closer to your boyfriend. The movement doesn’t ease your nerves in the slightest, foot tapping wildly against the carpeted flooring of the backseat as you think of that creaky elevator. Will it be on your side today? Or will it force you to run four flights of stairs up to his floor?

You won’t know until you get there, absentmindedly tipping the poor soul who bore witness to the rolling waves of tension that had swamped your body tonight. You can only hope it’s an appropriate bill, taking off toward the front doors of his building. The water on the sidewalk splashes beneath your frantic footsteps, tickling your bare ankles. The black boots you wore that day did nothing to save you, a small gust of cold air trying to sweep up beneath the thin material of your dress, luckily to no avail.

The front area is as empty as it usually is, though you doubt the late hour would change that. Knuckle jammed harshly against the flickering elevator button, you wait impatiently for it to descend. His small label takes up the entirety of the fourth floor, studios squeezed beside meeting rooms and offices. It was by no means a monster record label, but it had gained enough fame from the quality soloists it produced over the years; Namjoon was quickly becoming one of those. The carriage is on the fifth floor, right above his, the digital panel beside you says. It passes his floor, passes the fourth, and then… nothing.

You curse every deity in the universe as you watch it freeze on the second floor. You had been so close, you groan, kicking the tip of your shoe against the metal doors. It does nothing to fix the broken elevator, and with one heavy sigh, you turn to the flight of stairs. It was 11:54 now.

The stairway is silent, off-grey concrete walls mocking you as the time continues to tick down. Holding the plastic bag to your chest, you start up the stairs in a hurry. The rustling of the bag grows annoying quickly, your thighs aching half way up. The platforms between floors provide nearly no reprieve before you ascend the next level of stairs, heaving for air as you turn onto the final platform before his floor. Your hair sticks uncomfortably to the back of your neck.

You can’t fling the door open fast enough, heart hammering between your rib cage. The hallway is filled with blissful air conditioning, nothing like the stuffy air of the staircase. You relish in it for a second before taking down the winding halls, torpedoing straight into the room your boyfriend’s in.

“Happy birthday,” you gasp, only hoping you made it in on time. Your sudden appearance has him whirling around in surprise, dark eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets at his surprise intruder. The digital clock above one of his speakers blinks back at you. 11:59.

The surprise wears off soon enough. Namjoon melts back into his puffy chair, easy going smile taking over his features as he regards your ruffled appearance. “Jesus, what’ve you been up to?” he teases playfully, standing up to relieve you of the bag in your hand, still warm against your chest.

He brushes a kiss against your forehead, placing the plastic bag somewhere off behind him before enveloping you in your arms. “Thank you, baby,” he hums, strong arms wrapped around your shoulders. Almost immediately the tension in your body melts away, oozes out of your skin as you bury yourself against his chest. It feels good to be there, the faint cologne from that morning clinging to his white zip-up.

“Sorry I’m so late,” you murmur. Feeling comforted enough, you pull away from your hiding spot against his chest. The arms hanging loosely around your waist don’t let you get too far, low-lidded eyes staring down at you over the straight angle of his nose. “So much happened today— I’m sorry.”

Namjoon waves your apologies off as he guides you towards his computer chair. He plops down first, pulling you over to sit on his thigh. The clock ticks by, and suddenly his birthday is over. The scent of the noodles fills his dark studio, and you become acutely aware of the soft melody drifting from his speakers. Nothing too developed yet, just a simple piano with a bass drum kicking in.

“Another year, another grey hair,” he sighs, leaning back against his seat. You laugh at his dramatics, running a finger through the head full of silver hairs he’s rocking this time around.

“I fail to see the issue,” you muse, shifting about until you can loop your arms around his neck, pulling his face close enough to yours to kiss. He lets you, opening his mouth when your tongue prods against his plush, doll lips. He tastes of that energy drink you know is bad for him, the one that keeps him up way past his nonexistent bedtime. You should scold him for it, but there’s something about the way he molds his mouth against yours that makes it difficult to pull away and do so. You kiss him for a few minutes, lips casually molding against each other.

The enticing scent of the food you brought over has you pulling away with a soft smack of your lips, lazily grinning down at him. “You should eat,” you encourage, attempting to move out of his grip. If anything, the hands on the small of your back stiffen, keeping you comfortably pressed against him.

“Don’t want to,” he whines, half-lidded eyes gazing at you with that tender look. He leans back in, nudges his nose against yours until you’re moving to accommodate him again. His lips catch yours a second time, a soft sigh released on his end. His body feels like a furnace, swaddled up in that nice white tracksuit, some fancy brand he’s an ambassador for. There’s something about him that’s different today, cherry lips catching you in a daze. He seems totally aware of the pull he has over you, moving his mouth against yours like he knows he’s won you over and was now ready to dedicate the rest of the night to you.

You weren’t having any of that, at least not tonight.

Knitting your hands in his hair, you tug. You tug and tug until he’s releasing you with a whine, swollen red lips shiny from your lip gloss. It’s certainly a look on him, and as he pants beneath you, you’re left wondering why he’s chosen to be an elusive rapper when his doll-like face could easily blend into the idol world.

Another mystery you’ll never solve.

“Missed you today,” he admits bashfully, lips pulling into a shy smile he tries to hide from you. You reward his confession with a soft peck against his cheek, hands cupping his soft cheeks between your palms. Despite how easily you’d been forgiven before, there’s a tinge of a whine curling around his next words. “Who blows someone off on their birthday?” he mumbles, eyes fluttering shut.

You chuckle, tracing your thumbs over his skin. They just barely brush against the corners of his mouth, the soft flesh begging to be touched. “Who spends their birthday cooped up in a tiny room?” you reply teasingly, leaning in to kiss the mole beneath his plump lips.

Namjoon inhales softly, head lolling backwards as you kiss down his chin, over his pulse point. “Was inspired,” he weakly defends, the grip around your waist growing tight. “There was a pretty girl in my dreams last night.”

“Oh?” You hum, slithering off his lap. The floor mat he has beneath his rolling chair to protect his hardwood floors is cold. There’s ridges on it that press uncomfortably into your knees. But all that is forgotten when you roll your hands over his shoulders, kiss his neck tenderly, and he groans. “How pretty?”

Your back is straining from being awkwardly stretched over him in a desperate attempt to kiss the entire column of his neck. He doesn’t make it easier, hips wiggling before you as you nip against the side of his neck. “Joon?” you coo, sliding your hands down his chest. The muscles jump beneath his zip-up, one shuddering exhale escaping him.

“R-Real fuckin’ gorgeous,” he mumbles, hands circling your shoulders. He wants to pull you close like he always does, but you can tell he’s equally as conflicted by the need to push you down onto his cock.

The front zip of his sweater gives with one tug, the clicks of the teeth coming apart following your hand down. He’s wearing a plain white shirt underneath, the beginnings of sweat clinging to the flimsy material. You place your hands around his waist, let the fabric catch over your knuckles as you glide them upwards. The sinewy muscle quivers under your touch, Namjoon’s breath catching in your throat.

When you reach his pecs, he barely contains the whimper in his throat, hands releasing you in favor of clutching at the armrest. “Please,” he huffs, the white zip-up halting you from pushing any further. “Off.”

“Of course,” you purr, pushing it over his deltoids. He doesn’t shake the sweater off completely, the sleeves catching over each other in his haste to feel you closer against his body. The t-shirt remains tugged up to his chest, held up by your wandering hands. “Relax for me, okay?” you croon, leaning forward to nip at his lower lip. The plush skin bounces back, redder than ever. He nods shakily, chest rising and falling.

You place a kiss directly on his sternum, his heart fluttering wildly just a few inches away. You feel it beneath your palm, the way it beats wildly out of rhythm for you. The music loops back around, the same melodious tune mixing with his airy sounds. You trail your mouth lower, letting it mold against the faint ridges over his abdomen.

He’s been putting on muscle these last few months. It’s a sight you only get to appreciate in moments like these. Namjoon wasn’t a flashy performer; he was too shy to wear revealing outfits, not that they particularly fit his onstage aesthetic anyway. He liked it simple and dark, wanting his words to capture people more than his looks.

It was a humble approach, really, because you don’t doubt for a second someone with looks of his caliber couldn’t pull fans with that alone. But as you said before, Namjoon didn’t like that sort of thing, and you suppose that’s why he’s declined invitations to join rookie boy groups time and again. He had worked hard to make himself known on his own, frequenting various hip hop scenes until he picked up steam. By the time you’d met him, he had his own contract, with this same company you’re currently in.

Now he was freshly twenty-six, on the cusp of releasing his first full mixtape, completely of his own creativity. His first mini-album had done extraordinarily well, but there had been a lot of outside partners and producers that pushed it along. This mixtape was one hundred percent him, a fact you couldn’t be more proud of.

What better way to treat him than to shower him in attention like this?

You press a soft kiss to his belly button, glancing up just in time to see those plush lips pull into a smile, pearly white teeth appearing in between, eyes fluttered shut. The waistband of his matching bottoms stretches easily enough, giving you a brief view of the dark underwear he’s got underneath. You let it snap back into place, relishing in the tiny gasp he gives. “You’re acting extra sweet for me today, aren’t you?” you smirk, running a palm over the bulge beneath his pants. His knuckles tighten dangerously against his armrests.

“I’m the same,” he chokes out, eyes rolling to the back of his head when you give his outline a teasing squeeze. “Just… lower please.”

His statement is followed with one hand on the back of your head, tentatively urging you closer to his stiff member just an inch. He’s so polite and shy tonight, cheeks tinted a nice rosy color as he looks away from your lewd expression practically salivating over the prize hidden beneath his clothes. His bottoms come down around his thighs, throbbing cock bouncing up to tap his stomach.

“Oooh,” you say appreciatively, taking him in your hand. Namjoon flinches, a groan catching in his throat as you trail your fingers over his cock. They end at the tip, swollen and red; you can’t help yourself as you duck down, kissing the tip softly. Namjoon full on shivers, hips bucking against your touch.

“Please, just... touch,” he begs, wiggling around underneath you.

You nod, pulling away to plant your hands against his hips. “Have to sit still for me, big boy,” you remind him, pushing down until his bottom glues itself firmly to the leather padding of his chair again. He does so with a huff. Clouded eyes meet yours, so beautifully framed by the blood that rushes to his face.

Despite calming him just moments before, the first kiss against his tip makes him squirm and buck like a wild stallion, your name falling from his lips like a mantra. Eventually he calms down, labored breath fanning across his chest as he watches you lower your mouth down around his cock. It twitches in your hand, one perfect pearl of cum oozing from the tip. It’s barely rolled down past his head when you strike, the tip of your tongue scooping it up quickly.

A little on the salty side, but it still makes you shudder. Above you, Namjoon isn't faring that well either. He groans, hands clenched over the armrest as he tries his best to be good for you. “More,” he says hoarsely, silver hair dangling over his eyes. It creates a curtain between you two, his beautiful expression hidden from your view.

You ease his cock down your mouth. It feels just as good as you remembered. Your knees ache from being on the ground, but you wouldn’t trade places with anyone in the world right now. An inaudible moan resonates from above you, his back going stiff the further down you swallow him. You could practically feel yourself drooling, excess saliva making his entrance into your mouth so much easier. You get about two thirds down before it becomes difficult, lips pulled taut around his swollen member. The tip is reaching dangerous territory now, nudging against the soft spot in the back of your throat.

You could gag, but that would only startle him away, make him worry about you. You don’t want that, not when he’s melting into his seat with every inch you swallow. So you push the discomfort away, focus on feeling the entirety of his cock in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he whines, shaking his silvery locks away from his eyes when he leans forward to look at you. You take extra care to bat your lashes up at him; he obviously likes the sight, his lower lip catching between his teeth for the umpteenth time that night.

When you finally surpass that initial discomfort, his cock wonderfully resting in your mouth and throat, everything becomes so much better. The drag against your lips feels almost heavenly, never mind the fact it would certainly leave the skin around there soft and tender tomorrow. It’s something you’re willing to overlook, running the flat length of your tongue against the underside of his cock to distract him.

You make one hand busy, reaching down to cup his balls. The skin is soft, but tight, like it’s taking everything in him not to bust right now. The other situates itself loosely against his hip, thumb drawing slow circles against the skin. He’s grown hotter since you’ve gotten here, like your own personal furnace.

He’s a good boy, through and through.

It had admittedly taken a while to tame his wildness; there had been a time where he would push your head down his cock the second your lips touched his mouth. Now, he fared pretty well against his own carnal instincts, blunt nails digging into the armrests in order to stop himself. Thanks to this, you’re able to pick up a comfortable pace against his cock, bobbing up and down between his thighs.

“M-More,” he pants, muscles trembling from the exertion it takes for him to hold himself back. “Please,” he throws in.

You appease him, letting go of his balls to grip the base of his cock. He hisses at the touch, hips unconsciously jumping. You hold him tight, squeezing his cock between your palm until his thighs are quivering too. The descent down his cock is easier too, no longer trying to swallow him up whole every time.

It only calms him for so long before that same plea is falling from his lips again. This time, you pull off completely, lazily jerking him off as you rest an elbow on his thigh, chin falling into your open palm as you analyze his figure. “Always need more,” you sigh, the slippery sound of your hand mingling with his little moans.

Namjoon’s jaw tightens, head falling forward until his chin touches his chest. “Would like to fuck now,” he seethes, his t-shirt growing damp at the collar from all the sweating he’s been doing.

“Is that so?” You smile. As you say this, you loosen your grip, letting your hand fall away much to his dismay. “Your clothes, Joon,” you explain, using his thighs as leverage to push yourself to your feet again. There’s creases on the skin over your knees, skin and joints tender from the position. That gets pushed to the back burner as you watch Namjoon finally fight his way out of his clothing, hands stuck in the sleeves of his zip-up.

“Off, off,” he huffs, eventually tugging it off all inside out. The shirt is next, neck hole stretched huge as he peels it away from his body.

You muffle a giggle behind your palm, placing a hand on his bare shoulder when he’s done. He’s looking at you with those same, desperate eyes, stealing your heart without even realizing. “Adorable,” you tease only to watch the blood crawl over his ears and down his neck. You throw a leg over him, his thigh pressing against yours. Before you can mount him you’re tugging off the thin jacket you’d worn that day, pawing it off until only the thin barrier of your dress is between the two of you.

With both knees pressed to either side of him, you finally show him what he wants to see. The sundress you’d worn that day makes everything so accessible. The flimsy material stretches over your ass, sits pretty around your waist to reveal your sheer panties. The sight makes Namjoon groan, eyes downcast as he fights to see your pussy. You return his gaze with a hand against his jaw. “Look at me, sweetheart,” you murmur, looping your hands around his head, finding their place on the nape of his neck first. Your fingers instinctively run through his locks, drawing an airy gasp from him.

“Yes,” he breathes, lower lip brushing against yours from such close proximity. You smile down at him, easing your core down on him. His cock pressed against your clothed panties, leaving a wet trail against the exterior side of them.

He fits snugly between your folds, hesitant hands resting at your hips like he wants to grind you down but knows better than to attempt such a bold move. You reward his behavior with a faint kiss against his cheek. “Good boy, Joonie,” you praise, barely containing your own gasp as you wiggle over his cock. “Being so nice for me today,” you sigh, grinding down against him.

Namjoon shivers, cock throbbing against your soiled panties. “Always good for you,” he groans, a trail of sweat running down from his hairline.

Another kiss is pressed against his face, this time against his cheekbone as you begin grinding back and forth. “That’s right,” you confirm, hugging him tight to your chest, until his face is practically buried between your breasts. “Even on your birthday,” you sigh, stretching a hand behind you to tug your panties to the side. The first glide of his cock against your folds has him bucking against you, a choked gasp escaping both your lips.

“I-Yes,” he cries, hands wrapped tight around you.

You bite down a whimper, his length running over every inch of your folds. It makes your toes curl when he stimulates your clit. Your attention had been solely on making him feel good tonight, that the barest amounts of pleasure to your own body was enough to make you shake. “Tell me,” you pant, moving back to grab him by the shoulders as you run against his length. “What you would do if you weren’t my good boy.”

Namjoon cries at your sudden pace, head lolling back as he fights every instinct in his body telling him to just fuck right into your inviting heat. “Can’t,” he sobs, eyes squeezed shut.

“Joon,” you growl, snapping your hips forward roughly. “Tell me.”

He shakes his head with another whimper, thigh muscles jolting beneath you. It makes you shift forward, clit running hard along his cock. “No, you’ll—“ he wheezes, fingers digging deep into your sides now. “You’ll… think I’m bad. Dirty.”

You lean forward, shove your tongue into his mouth with no warning. He moans, letting you push his tongue around until yours is halfway down his throat, licking and slurping every inch of him you can reach. You yank his head back by the hair, catching those watery eyes. “Tell me all your dirty thoughts,” you croon, lips trailing down his jaw. “Tell me them and maybe we’ll make them come true.”

Namjoon moans. “You,” he hesitates. While he does that, you reach down to align his cock with your hole, throbbing to be filled. His tip brushes along the tightened lips surrounding your entrance, reducing him to a stuttering mess. “You tell me I’m dirty,” he cries, “dirty and messy, and-and you make me beg for forgiveness just to cum, s-sometimes you don’t like it and make me d-do it again,” he babbles. “I-if you’re feeling mean y-you just edge me. Until I cry.”

You sink down on his cock, your shared arousal making the glide slippery and so wet. It’s almost too easy how he fits inside of you, your back arching as the head of his cock runs deliciously against your walls. The sensation of your cunt wrapped tightly around his cock has him gasping for air.

“Until you cry?” You repeat through clenched teeth. “Like you are now?”

Namjoon trembles, hips and thighs twitching every few minutes. He nods his head, but he’s become overwhelmed by his thoughts and your touches, so the movement ends up looking more dazed. There’s a couple tears that escaped and painted pretty trails down his cheeks, one catching on the corner of that pout of his. The rest pool in the corner of his eyes, glassy just like his sweat-soaked skin.

“Happy birthday,” you mumble, brushing his hair away from his face to press a kiss against his forehead. Namjoon groans. “Fuck me, baby,” you purr, wrapping your hands around his neck again. “You deserve it.”

Namjoon lets out a loud cry at your permission, hands tightening around your hips. He wastes no time, bucking into you like a wild animal that’s desperate to cum. You don’t blame him; he’d been close to cumming down your throat, and recounting his demeaning fantasies while stuffed deep inside you certainly didn’t help.

You let him jostle you to and fro, dick slipping in and out of your pussy with an unreal amount of force. He was grunting all kinds of sounds against your shoulder, biting down on the skin like it would calm him. It doesn’t, and you already know there will be a big bruise to attend to tomorrow.

With every thrust, the head of his cock rubs against that sensitive spot in your pussy, back arching at the angle he pushes in at. It makes every hair on your body stand, the animalistic sounds he’s releasing reaching deep into your core.

It’s a brief reminder of what this man was truly capable of, buff arms and thick thighs lifting you around like you’re nothing. He could so easily take you over in the bedroom, push you down and ram himself inside until you cried. But it’s the other way around, and he likes it that way.

Well, you liked it that way too, especially if it meant having this big strong man so pliant under your touch.

“Fuck,” you moan, holding the back of his head closer to where he’s seemingly set on bruising your entire shoulder. “Just like that.”

Your walls clench around his length, squeezing him so tight that it becomes difficult for him to move. A wail catches in his throat, his body beginning to burn out from the initial burst of energy he’d received when you gave him the go ahead. “I-I,” he pants, weakly and unevenly bucking into you. You know he’s close from the cute wavering of his speech, his usual eloquent speaking style reduced to a stuttering mess. You take pity on him, gearing your muscles up again to see him to completion.

It doesn’t take long. A few slow rolls of your hips later and he’s spasming beneath you, your name rolling off his tongue in a series of soft whimpers. He continues groaning even afterwards, hands falling limply to his sides as you finish yourself off.

The thing about this big strong body was that it burned out extremely fast, his head rolling back to give you a clear view of his fucked out features. He was tired, absolutely drained from your little moment, and such was exhibited on his lax frame. Your orgasm rolls around right after, stomach clenching. Despite the shock of pleasure that swallows you up, you can’t help the endeared smile that takes over your features at the sight beneath you as you cum.

“So proud of you,” you murmur afterwards, cupping his face in your hands to deliver a brigade of kisses against his skin. He groans in faux annoyance, letting you turn him this way and that as you shower him in affection. “My baby did so well today.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he huffs, though the ghost of a smile tugs at his lips. “What’s there to eat?”

You snort, pushing yourself off of him. You wiggle your panties and dress back into place, tossing him his discarded shirt as you make toward the noodles. They’ve probably gone cold by now, neglected in favor of fucking like two bunnies in heat. Still, you give them a poke. Just as you’d predicted, they’re way too cold to be edible, a fact which greatly saddens Namjoon.

You weren’t having any of that, especially not on his birthday (it was 12:49 now, but technically, it’s still his birthday until he goes to sleep), which is why you make him pack everything up right away. “I’ll heat them up at my place,” you assure him, patting his bum as he whines at the sudden relocation. He’s tugging his zip-up on, the collar tugged all the way up for him to hide the lower half of his face behind.

It doesn’t stop you from pressing a kiss over where you know his mouth is.

“Come on,” you grin, waiting for him to lock up his studio. He falls into step beside you, grudgingly throwing a hand around your shoulders. You beam up at him, leaning onto your toes to kiss his cheek. “I’ll make you cry at my place,” you promise, relishing in the dark flush that floods the apples of his cheeks.

Copyright © July 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[bookishofalder]

Joke of a Batman

Spencer Reid x Male!Reader

Request: @meowiemari Okie dokie!!! So Spencer x male reader where the reader is the driver for the robbers. They arrested him after finding him in a gas station getting snacks. While driving in his car with Morgan, Reid, and Hotch, the reader is in the passenger seat telling them the location because he was just there for the money. Hotch and Morgan went while Spencer stays to keep an eye on him. Reader’s playlist in his car plays old Justin Bieber songs and it’s gonna be me by NSYNC. Spencer sees his embarrassment and  awkwardly sings a bit so he doesn’t feel shame. Later in absolute a few minuets the two started singing and as soon as Morgan comes back with Hotch, they both quickly turn off the playlist and exchange numbers. :)

Warnings: Swearing, implied SMUT (super brief)

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I loved writing this, and hope I you enjoy. This was my first time writing the reader as male-so please tell me if I can improve! Tried to keep reader description as vague as possible. Thank you to @mermaidxatxheart​ for encouraging me to get writing :) 

“That’ll be $11.75, please.” The bored gas station attendant droned, staring at you expectantly. You began to pull out a few bills from your wallet, ready to get home and eat your pint of ice cream in peace, but before you could count out what you needed, a voice behind you cut in.

“He’s no longer going to be making a purchase today, actually,” Spinning around in alarm, you find yourself face to face with two imposing men, one with a deep frown and overall authoritative air with his crisp suit, the other a handsome but tall and physically intimidating specimen.

With a gulp, you stuff the cash in your wallet. Who were these guys?

“Y/F/N?”

You nod as heat creeps up your neck, burning your face. Fucking Peter Robbins, you always knew, was going to be the death of you. And now it looked like your latest foray into his questionable life was going to land you in jail. These had to be cops.

You knew you should have ignored his call. You’d been telling yourself for years not to help him, he was just going to get himself in trouble again and call again, and you got nothing out of it. He used you because he knew you liked him. The two of you had been friends for years, and it didn’t take him long to realize the ways he could manipulate you because of how you felt.

It took you a lot longer to catch on to what he was doing.

But fuck, you still came running when he called, didn’t you? Like you were some joke of a Batman and he was shining his light into the sky calling for you. If only.

“That’s, yeah, that’s me.” You replied, slowly shoving your wallet into your front pocket before holding your hands in front of you in surrender. Whatever happened, you decide at this moment that you never want to see Peter again. Because giving that man a ride in hopes he’d one day say he was interested was not worth this.

“Mr. (Y/L/N), we’re placing you under arrest,” The frowning man held out his badge, showing you he was one Agent Hotchner from the fucking FBI. You tuned him out, your ears suddenly ringing, alarm shooting through you. Getting arrested was one thing, but the FBI? What in the living hell had Peter gotten into? Got you into?

He called you for a ride. It was just supposed to be a ride.

You were surprised when they didn’t cuff you, but you weren’t stupid enough to question them. They led you outside, where the gas station was quiet, only their large black SUV and your Honda Civic parked out front. You kept your eyes down, a sting threatening the corners but you were not going to cry. You needed to take this one step at a time, and not overreact. You surely didn’t fuck up that badly, did you? They’d said ‘suspicion of aiding a crime’, only suspicion.

“Listen, kid,” The bald Agent whose name you learned was Morgan turned and faced you, his expression serious. You bristled slightly at him calling you ‘kid’, but based on the crows' feet around his eyes, maybe he was older than he let on. “We know that you were just the driver today, and that you’d probably have no clue what’s going on right now.”

You raised your eyes to meet his, “Peter Robbins has ensured I fuck up my life at least once a year for nearly a decade. This is just...a new level for me.” You shrug, trying not to think of what your family was going to say when they found out. Would you lose your job?

“We’ve been watching Peter and his associates for a while now,” Agent Hotchner replied, and your brows raised in surprise. “Yes, he’s escalated from petty crimes that upset the local sheriff to armed robbery. Unfortunately, one of his partners happens to enjoy killing. Which is why we were called in.” He stops speaking abruptly when another Agent, you assume from the gun on his belt, steps around the SUV and up to your group.

For a moment, you’re caught off guard. This Agent is stunningly handsome, much younger than the other two. His eyes, which met yours for only a moment before flitting away, were a soft honey brown that sucked you right in. He had a bit of a shadow along his jaw, his wavy brown hair unkempt in the best kind of way, as though he’d just rolled out of bed looking that perfect. And you could tell he didn’t even realize the power he had. Standing next to two burly, thick muscled Agents, you could understand why. But in your brief assessment of this new man, you could see the lean strength of him, the muscles of his lower arms, veins in his hands. He was tall, too, taller than either of the other men, which was saying something.

“What’s up, Reid?” Morgan asked, and the new arrival-Reid-held up his phone.

“Garcia can’t pull anything from the Honda, it’s, her words, an ancient species.” He spoke quickly, almost as though the words couldn’t find their way off of his tongue quickly enough. You tried not to fixate on his mouth, because damn it, his lips were perfect.

Absentmindedly, you crossed your arms across your chest, feeling tense and tired. When Reid’s eyes followed the movement, you felt frozen under his gaze, watching with your breath held as it dragged slowly up to your face. His expression was unreadable, yet you still felt your cheeks grow warmer.

“Listen, (Y/N), we know you don’t have any real part in Peter’s crimes. We intercepted his calls and texts, we know he asked you to pick him up today, last minute.” Agent Hotchner said, his eyes burning into yours.

You looked away from the other men, shame flooding through you. “Peter always calls, and I always answer. But I really don’t know anything about what he does, I didn't know he was even with anyone else today. He asked me to pick him up right out front of the pharmacy, that’s all.” You couldn’t help the edge to your voice, the wordless plea that they understand you had no clue what was going on. And if innocent people were dying, you would do anything you could to help them put a stop to it.

Reid tilted his head slightly as he watched you, “We’ve seen the messages, (Y/N), we know how he treats you, giving you a little, yet taking a lot,” The tears almost threaten now, so you glance away, looking at the ground as you nod, “And he doesn’t even tell you what he’s taking, the danger he’s putting you in. He’s going to go away for a long time, but you don’t have to.”

At this, your head snaps up and you look between the three men, expecting them to laugh and finally cuff you. But they all wear the same neutral expression, all watching you.

“Like I said, I don’t know much abou-“

Reid shook his head, politely interjecting, “We understand. But you know where you took him today, right?” At your nod, Reid stepped a little closer, peering down at you, “We need you to take us to him. And tell us any other addresses you can remember picking him up from or taking him to in the last year. Can you help us? You won’t be under arrest if you can give us what we need to stop Peter and the men he’s working with.”

You almost wanted to laugh. Of course, you would help, regardless of whether you were still under arrest; you had no loyalty whatsoever to Peter. You only ever showed up for him because you hoped, each time, that it would be the time he would go beyond flirting. That the feelings were mutual. But if he was committing crimes-fuck, robbing people, working with a murderer, then you were done with him.

“I can tell you addresses, and I can show where he is now, I just,” You paused, closing your eyes briefly to pull in a breath, steadying yourself, “Please, don’t hurt him, if you don’t need to, I mean.”

Reid’s eyes, which you found the moment you opened yours, visibly softened at your words. He seemed a little surprised, you thought, though it was hard to tell. He was difficult to read, and you’d only just met him. He nodded reassuringly before looking to Agent Hotchner expectantly while you waited, your insides in knots.

“(Y/N), Spencer is going to go with you in your vehicle, and we’ll be following behind. Take us as close as you can without being obvious. Reid,” He turned to the handsome agent, “We’re going to check the car first, can you-“ He gestured wordlessly in your direction, which made you frown in confusion.

Reid nodded, and you watched as the two other agents moved to search your car, while he moved toward you. “I’m going to search you for weapons, okay?” He explained, holding his hands out as if waiting for your permission.

You stared, perhaps a beat too long, at his long-fingered hands. With a shy bob of your head, you looked to Reid, “Of course, I understand.” And the agent began to pat you down as you stood awkwardly.

It wasn’t as though the action was intimate or affectionate, but for whatever reason, you did feel his touch was hesitant. He was gentle, considerate...it surprised you. And then his hands slid up your back as he stood in front of you, and you became acutely aware of the thin cotton t-shirt your wore, instantly becoming self-conscious. You wondered what he thought of you, of your body.

Mind out of the gutter, you told yourself.

It was then, when Reid leaned back, his hands sliding from your back to your chest, that time seemed to stand still, just for a moment. They moved across your stomach briefly, and as they began to pull away, the search complete, you looked up. Reid was staring at you, his cheeks flushed, eyes heavy. You caught your breath, his gaze was so intense, but before you could even try to think of what to say, he was swiftly stepping back, breaking eye contact with a heavy swallow.

You were kind of relieved. That had been almost too intense, whatever that was. The relief lasted only moments until Agent Hotchner called out that your car was good to go, and you remembered you had a twenty-minute car ride alone with the Reid.

Fuck.

+

The first few minutes of the drive are bearable enough, Spencer takes the wheel as you give him directions to the subdivision where you had dropped Peter off. It’s when the silence starts to press in, and you don’t know what to say to fill it, that things swiftly change.

Sensing the tension, no doubt, Reid reaches out to the audio power button and hits your stereo on. With an internal groan, you suddenly wish you could just jump out of the moving vehicle when the song you’d been listening to picks back up.

'Cause I've had everything But no one's listening And that's just fucking lonely I'm so lonely Lonely

You had put on a playlist you considered your ‘sad songs’ compilation for whenever you were let down by Peter or any other man. You enjoyed wallowing in self-pity for just a little while after each encounter. But now, as Justin Bieber crooned sadly, you didn't feel sad, just humiliated. You were in your car with a fiercely hot FBI agent who had given you some kind of fucking bedroom eyes just minutes ago as he pats you down, and this song plays.

Your expression must have been obvious, as you saw Reid look at you a few times out of the corner of your eye, frowning somewhat. When the song ended, you didn’t get a chance to be relieved before ‘Somebody to Love” began playing. This time, you sighed aloud, sinking somewhat into your seat and wishing you could dissolve into a pile of goo like the Wicked Witch.

Until that is, you glanced up and saw Reid’s fingers tapping gently on the steering wheel to the beat. Surprised, you looked around to the agent and he was mouthing the words, singing along with the chorus. Stunned, you just watched him for a moment, quickly finding yourself enraptured by the way his plump lips moved around the words, how his tongue would wet them between lines, how his eyes-

Fuck, he was looking right at you. You smiled quickly but looked away, your hands fidgeting in your lap. You really had much bigger, more important shit to be concerned with right now, yet here you were wondering what the hell this perfect man, this FBI agent that was far too handsome for his own good, was doing singing along with the silly song, and why the look he gave you had butterflies erupting in your stomach.

Not to mention, the guilt that accompanied those thoughts, brief as they were, of what the lips would feel like on yours. What they would feel like on your body. Wrapped around your cock. Fuck.

He hadn’t said anything, but his fingers continued to tap along with the beat with ease. Eventually, when you directed him to the final turn, you chanced another glance at him. As if expecting your gaze, he turned his head and smiled at you, “I’m Spencer, by the way, Dr. Spencer Reid.” You blinked. Doctor?

“Oh, uh. Wow. Nice to meet you, Dr-“

“You can call me Spencer,” He cut in, his expression somewhat amused.

You nodded, “Nice to meet you, Spencer. Though I wish it were under different circumstances, perhaps where I wasn’t a criminal piece of shit.”

He pulled the car over, stopped at the community mailbox you had described as the perfect place to park. Once he’d turned the engine off, he turned to face you, those warm eyes giving you a gentle look. “You aren’t a criminal piece of shit, (Y/N),” Oh, you loved the way your name sounded coming from him. “I’d go as far as to say you’re a victim in all of this.”

You scoffed, waving a hand in protest, “No, I really should have known better than to help Peter.”

But Spencer shook his head, “As I said earlier, we saw the messages. He manipulates you, and he doesn’t ever tell you what he’s actually doing. He just gets you to give him rides, acts like it’s a way to hang out when really he’s using you as a cover because, in reality, you’re a law-abiding, hardworking, kind man. Men like him don’t deserve to breathe the same air as you, (Y/N).”

Letting out a breath, your mind went blank at Spencer’s words, failing you entirely. You believed every word he’d said, and you felt warm all over at the intense way he watched you, it was almost...protective.

Before your mind could reboot and you could trust yourself to open your mouth and not simply drool, a tap on the window drew your eyes beyond Spencer. Agent Hotchner stood there, waiting patiently with his arms crossed.

Spencer climbed out of your car, but you stayed put, glad for a moment to close your eyes and try to steady your beating heart. After this was over, you were climbing into your bathtub and staying there for the rest of the week. Maybe the rest of the month.

“Prentiss and JJ are parked at the North end, they’re going to come with us. Can you wait here, with (Y/N), and call Garcia and have him give her the other locations?”

You heard Spencer agree and bid his fellow agents goodbye before climbing back into your car. He smiled warmly at you, and you couldn’t help but return it, your own shy and uncertain. “You heard what our task is?” He asked you, his head tilted again, watching you curiously.

“Yes.”

“Okay, good. But first, can you give me your phone, please?” He held his hand out expectantly. You handed it over, first pointing it towards your face to unlock it. His fingers brushed yours when he took the phone from you, and if you hadn’t been looking at him already, you wouldn’t have believed it was intentional. But it was because at the slight contact, your eyes had widened and Spencer...Spencer had smirked.

He clicked around on your phone for a moment, hit one final button and then passed it back to you, looking satisfied. When you took it back, his phone chimed in his pocket. Confused, you peered down at your screen to see he’d added his name to your contacts and sent himself a text from your phone. Well fuck.

He was watching you with an amused expression, “Once this case is over, (Y/N), I’d love it if you would allow me to take you to dinner.”

“I, wow,” You stammered, nervously running your hair through your hair. His eyes followed your movement, and you saw a glint behind the warmth, of desire. Hunger. You didn’t think twice. “I’d love to, Spencer.” He grinned at you.

And surprising even yourself, you reached out and squeezed his hand. And when he returned the pressure and ran his thumb softly across the back of your hand, all thoughts of Peter left your mind as *NSYNC played in the background and you didn’t feel lonely anymore.

Did you enjoy this story? Please consider reblogging or commenting to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Likes are basically just a bookmark!

✨Taglist: @mermaidxatxheart @paintballkid711 @snitchthewitch

[yournameyn]

Feeling Deeply Chapter 5

Genre: Arranged Marriage Fic. Fluff turning into angst?

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Summary: The story of two deeply feeling nerds who find themselves in an arranged marriage. (Details here). Our OC is called Brishti. It’s a Bengali name meaning rain. Namjoon calls her Rim (short for her pet name, RimJhim which means the pitter-patter of rain). She calls him Joon.

Warnings: NOT THE NAMJOON OF OUR DREAMS. Argument. Fight over tiny discrepancies that turn out to be a huge problem. Domestic violence. Not a happy chapter.

A/N: Have you ever felt this, reader? When you watch something and realise exactly what you need to realise in that moment? I’ve had that so many times - seeing my feelings mirrored in a show. That’s something that I’ve tried to have Brishti feel here. Also, this is how I see the natural progression of this Namjoon, the one who obliged to duty rather than his dreams. It took me a long time to write this but I love what’s come out. Let me know what you think!

Current Chapter: London, late 1963. Love fully blooms between Namjoon and Brishti. And yet, something’s not right. A visit to the ballet and a conversation brings forth realisations. The inklings that Brishti was trying to avoid transform into writing on the wall.

Previously in Feeling Deeply: Preface Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5

The magic about new love isn’t really in romance or even in true intimacy. It’s in how violent new love is… and just how much time it takes us to feel it’s impact.

In the new love between Namjoon and Brishti, everything had been roses and honey, overflowing, swaying in a gentle breeze. They spent every second possible in each other’s arms. They had to tear themselves away from each other when they had to leave home. And even then, it hurt as though they were part of the same cloth.

Brishti had thought about how they had become woven, their souls an ornate tapestry. Namjoon had told her then about a Japanese tradition of weaving that was a sort of meditation and a kind of worship to a god called ‘Musubi’. The disciples say it is like being part of the cosmic tapestry. Being tied to each other.

“Just like we are… I felt a pull toward you and I followed it. I was scared… so full of doubts about who you were and how this was all going to go… I had promised myself that I would fulfil my duty… whatever happened ” Namjoon had said, petting Brishti’s hand gently, “And I… I still can’t believe it… It… you make me feel like I can… trust myself.” Brishti had looked at her genius then and wondered what a strange world it must be that made a man like Namjoon doubt himself, “Always, always trust yourself, Namjoon-ah.” and settled into the crook of his neck.

It was indeed a strange world that caused Namjoon to build an armour around himself. Because ‘London’ and ‘Lonely’ sounded just the same to him. His years alone in this strange place had been unkind, unrelenting. Brishti had been the only softness he had felt in a long long time. Armours built over years can break in an instant, though. For him, it was the moment when he and his wife had crossed the threshold to becoming lovers. High on the magic of new love, he had not realised it.

Sitting across from each other after that fateful evening, Namjoon and Brishti were both wide awake in the early hours of the next morning. Brishti buttoned up the shirt they never fully took off. Namjoon had tickled her with his toes. They propped their feet against the other’s to see just how vast the difference was (he melted seeing how small her feet were and hadn’t stopped playing with them since). Caressing each toe, he remembered something he wanted to ask -

“How did you know what Saranghae is?”

“Mm…” she stretched her arms, “I know what it means…” Brishti said.

“I know you know… from the way you… after I said it… You asked Yoongi about it?” Namjoon cautiously asked about the only other Korean Brishti knew. To his surprise, she nodded no, still denying him any information. Namjoon had to tickle her foot for the answer.

“Okay! Okay! Wait! Pleeeease!” Namjoon stopped and Brishti bent down to the bureau next to her bed and pulled out a textbook - LEARN HANGUL THROUGH ENGLISH. Namjoon looked more shocked than she had expected. “I asked Yoongi about the book-”

“You don’t need to Rim… I’m not learning Bangla, am I?” Namjoon said. He was touched but he didn’t want his love to do anything he couldn’t reciprocate.

“I would have asked you to learn it… if I wrote poetry in my mothertongue...” Brishti said. Namjoon was shocked. She went on, “You really think I didn’t know?”

Namjoon blushed and smiled and flopped over in Brishti’s lap. She brushed his hair as she explained, “You light up at the mention of lyrics and poetry, you keep a notebook by your side at all times, you’re moved by the things that people usually don’t pay attention to… I know you’re a poet, Joonie.”

Namjoon looked up at her and said, “No one has ever called me that…”

Brishti leaned down and kissed her gorgeous husband. “You are... From what I know, I bet all my books that you are a great one... And… I… I would love nothing more than to be part of your world of words, Joonie… It must be strange… to be understood but in a foreign language. If you would let me, I want to understand you in your language… Do you think that’s something maybe--”

He got up and all but jumped on Brishti, pinning her down to the bed with the cutest puppy-yell she had ever heard. “Yes! Of course, yes!”

They both understood that this was a proposal. The truest kind - a gentle request to explore Namjoon’s universe. They would later joke about how she proposed to him after a month of being married. Namjoon was completely delighted by this person with him, his person… one who really saw him.

He pulled her to him saying, “You’re the best part of my world, Rim...” and kissed her.

Each moment of love flowed through the next. When they had to be separated, they couldn’t wait for the next one, their moment again. On weekends they would visit museums and find their favourite paintings and sculpture or their favourite prehistoric relic and animal. Brishti hated the fact that Namjoon had to work overtime to compensate for these weekends and she often voiced how unfair it was.

In response Namjoon would just give her a peck and say, “As long as I have you, I’m happy.” This pricked her but she was too taken by the man before her to pay heed to it.

Namjoon was just about able to keep a straight face at work but everyone around Brishti was acutely aware of how much she loved Namjoon.

At one point, her colleague and best friend, Min Yoongi had yelled at her, “Yhaaaaa! Stop blushing?! It’s just a clock… what could be romantic about a clock?!” Sayuri-san, and she were hanging around Yoongi’s table when Brishti looked at his new flip clock and started blushing.

Brishti laughed along with everyone else but explained, “It’s involuntary… that’s what happens when you’re married to a poet.”

Sayuri-san corrected, “I know too many wives of poets to know that’s not necessarily true… It is true though, when you’re in love with a poet… Go on… tell us how exactly poet Namjoon makes you blush about a clock...”

Brishti blushed even more at that. Yoongi rubbed his arms and demanded, “Tell us because there’s some really weird things coming to my mind… like you guys have an exact time when...”

Brishti stopped his imagination, “No no no… it’s nothing like that… he loves digital clocks... because he loves to watch the time turn to 00:00… zero o’clock he calls it… and on days he feels sad, it’s like zero o’clock is always there to comfort him… like it’s a point when the whole world holds its breath and he can feel happy again… but these days… with me… he said he wants the clock to keep going after 23:59… he wishes time would stretch on… beyond 24:01…”

Yoongi sighed and sat back down, “You’re making me fall in love with Namjoon… ahhh that is beautiful. He should be published...”

“Imagine him saying this directly to you and you might know how I feel… I can’t stop talking about him...”

“Oh, we know. But honestly none of us care… your poet-librarian romance is getting us through our single-ness.” Yoongi reassured her.

The three of them continued to talk about the ways in which Brishti could repay Namjoon’s wordsmithing in graphic ways.

It was that evening, wasn’t it, when Namjoon had enveloped her back in the warmest hug as soon as he’d entered their flat. Brishti was in the kitchen when she heard him enter but hadn’t expected this. He kissed her neck while telling her the good news, “We got our first Korean client today… because of me… Mmmm… Why do you always smell so amazing?”

Brishti turned around and hugged him again, “That’s amazing! Namjoon-ssi! I’m so proud of you!”

“He’s from a wealthy family… so he can actually afford our firm… its not exactly the work I wanted to do--”

“It is a step toward that idea, right? It’s still good work, fighting for justice?” Brishti asked, stopping him from undermining his own work.

Namjoon nodded, “Yeah… He’s a dancer… Park Jimin. All the posh types know him as one of the best dancers in the Royal Ballet. They call him Jim… as if it’s too difficult to say Jimin?” Namjoon shook his head in disapproval. He began helping Brishti with the chopping and continued, “He was born in the UK and trained since he was 5... He got into the Royal Ballet but he’s been passed up to be a principal over and over even though everyone who has seen him dance apparently knows that he’s far far better… So recently he spoke to the director there... and of course the director made a racist slur and asked not to bother him with this again. He can’t even quit and work at another company because of the contract they have him on. There’s a non compete clause… meaning he won’t be able to dance with any other company. That’s all he wants… to be able to get out of that contract… I’m hoping to convince him to press charges on racial discrimination too. We’re not in the 20s anymore.”

When Brishti didn’t respond, Namjoon looked up at her. “That’s horrible… I’m so so glad you’re taking up the case. But please tell me what you ate when you were alone?” He looked down at the carrot he’d been failing to cut.

Namjoon scrunched his nose and admitted, “Canned food mostly.”

Brishti said, “I’m really really glad you’re getting to do work that you are passionate about, Joonie, you deserve it. Now, you should know how to cut a carrot.”

Namjoon pressed up against Brishti’s back. She reached back up to the nape of his neck and made him moan into her. Then… then Namjoon made her forget how to cut carrots.

He had these ways… Namjoon, with his touch, his voice, his languages both spoken and soundless. He was lighting new paths into her self. She loved learning him. Paths she didn’t know existed, that she’d been longing for.

The scars of the loneliness, emptiness that Namjoon had experienced had turned his longings into a kind of starvation. He needed to be nourished and also devoured. Brishti was just the creature to do it. He could feel her warm fingers trace rows of pleasure onto his skin. He felt them bear down and singe when the two of them had to move away from each other. He felt those ropes tug at him as the end of his workday neared. Namjoon closed his eyes each night at her touch, the feeling and fragrance of her body. He felt blooms of intimacy spring up like seedlings out of the soil of his skin. And deeper. In the earth of his soul. So he did the only thing he could. Reciprocate. Namjoon sowed his love, his desire, his need onto her, into her every night.

There were times, though, when she would feel his absence in the middle of the night and see him working in the dim light of a lamp. She knew he had to work hard to do what he wanted but she also saw he had to continually prove himself to people who weren’t even paying attention. The reason they weren’t paying attention was painfully clear to Brishti but she was yet to experience it’s full stab.

Namjoon wanted to shield her from it. He was counting on an armour that didn’t exist anymore to protect himself and his wife… the reason he liked his life again. Whenever she came out and switched on a brighter light, reprimanding him for straining his gorgeous eyes, he saw that it did prick her - this world and the unfairness he had to endure. She would say something small, an almost-complaint that alerted him… against her for some strange reason. She would say something that would be easy to ignore and yet would prick him, like - “I don’t know why they haven’t promoted you yet.��� or “Why haven’t they taken up Jimin’s case yet? You’ve worked so hard on it.” Everytime she did that, he would have to pacify himself.

‘I’ve told her so much about the Jimin case… she’s just really invested’ Namjoon thought to himself. Just so he would avoid thinking, ‘I shouldn’t have told her.’

He would have to calm himself, give her a peck and try to convince her to stop worrying. “As long as I have you, I’m happy.” Namjoon would always say.

Then, Brishti smiled as she always did. While trying to understand why that sentence bothered her so much. After almost five months of exploring this wonderful man, some part of him still felt unfamiliar… like it didn’t fit in with the rest. Still, these things take time, she had heard from so many women over the years. Besides, she was blessed with a man far far above the norms. So, how could she prod? These are things Brishti had told herself - until the night she couldn’t stay silent.

The couple was coming up on their fifth month together and Park Jimin had gifted Namjoon a ticket to the final show of the season as a token of gratitude, for having heard his story.

Brishti was nervous about going to this kind of a gathering and had told her husband to meet her there.

She had enlisted the help of Sayuri-san to look appropriate for the event. Her slightly longer hair was clipped and her eyes were kohled. She wore a burgundy knee length fringe-ended dress that she had received from her gracious host, stylist and make-up artist - an inheritance of her brilliant life tucked into the black pearl beading and deco design. It was a big departure from the usual tie-die or band tees and jeans with her baggy coat. She had carried the coat but felt this strange sort of compulsion to stand in the cold air in the noodle strap dress, for him to see her.

She felt butterflies in her stomach and kept fiddling with the coat she had draped over her arm. It was electric when she saw him.

Namjoon looked gorgeous in a tux. All of Brishti’s nerves were soothed just by looking at him. He had brushed his hair back. Tall and dashing - better than any heathcliffe could ever be. And with his reading glasses, he looked like the lead of a romance novella that would make all the women swoon. Indeed she was swooning. Brishti was suddenly warm in the chilly, windy night. And when Namjoon saw her, blood rushed to her cheeks. Everything inside her was running helter skelter in a panic. Brishti felt everything drop in the few moments it took for Namjoon to reach the top of the stairs. Dolled up like this, outside of her element, she felt like an imposter. Some angel needed to be standing in her place. For the first time, feigning beauty, Brishti felt like she wasn’t worthy of her husband.

She was finally able to keep her feelings aside when he reached her.

Namjoon kissed her palm like a gentleman and whispered in her ear, “Let’s go home… I need a private kind of dance…” Brishti blushed. Namjoon put his arm around her and felt the chill that had settled on her skin. “Aren’t you cold? Why didn’t you wear the coat?” Namjoon asked. Brishti just shook her head no and the two of them walked in.

Brishti assumed that the ballet would be a welcome distraction from the storm that brewed within her. She had read up about the show, the piece they were going to perform -

Tchaikovsky’s venerated Swan Lake. The story of a young girl who falls in love with a prince who promises to save her but fails. Ofcourse there were finer nuances to the story but this was the basic plot. As the lights dimmed, Brishti felt pulled in by the music, the eerie beauty of it’s melody played in perfectly with the questions that were swirling around in Brishti’s mind -

Why do I feel wrong?

Is this what Yoongi was talking about? Anxiety…?

Why does Namjoon look so... different?

Why is he so quiet, so… distant…It’s like he’s keeping himself away from me despite being right next to me, arm in arm, like the true Namjoon is somewhere in a glass case? Deep deep beneath whatever this creature is who is next to me?

I’m thinking too much. No. What is this? Why am I feeling this way?

It’s the music… no its not just the music… something is fucking wrong because all I feel like doing is breaking that glass case that’s locked away My Namjoon and presented this fucking imposter. What the hell is going on?!

Brishti barely managed to keep it together. She kept her eyes on stage…

It was like seeing a moving painting being created by invisible hands and the music was the sound of the brushstrokes, amplified. Park Jimin was playing Rothbart, the owl-like magician who curses Odette into a swan until she finds someone who would promise to love her forever. The questions in her mind and the power of the spectacle before her forced her tears to keep flowing.

Namjoon saw Brishti cry and held on to her. But the more he tried to comfort her, the more uneasy she became, the more she coudln’t contain the tears in her eyes.

The curtain fell at the end of Act three when the prince realises he has been tricked. Brishti, somehow, mirrored his grief. The prince was cheated by Rothbart into believing that his daughter, Odile, was Odette. Rothbart relished his plan so despicably it made Brishti’s stomach turn. The prince had already declared to the ballroom full of people his vow to love and marry the maiden by his side - Odile, not Odette. Park Jimin played Rothbart so skillfully, so beautifully that despite being the villain, despite being covered from head to toe, he was the star. Rothbart giggled delightfully as he revealed to the prince that the girl in his arms wasn’t Odette at all. That Odette was waiting for her prince by the lake. The curtain fell as the prince felt the stab of betrayal and rushed to Odette.

Brishti rushed to where she did not know. She wanted to get away from Namjoon, from this feeling that she couldn’t understand, couldn’t explain. She was angry. She wanted to break something. Tears still flowing down her face, she found a corner that was hidden away in darkness. She went in. Brishti sat on the couch there, for what seemed like eternity, breathing heavily. Nothing made sense. It felt like her insides were twisting into each other. Suddenly, though, a door creaked open and out came an angel. A man, glowing, having just freshened up. He saw her, saw her fear and instead of pulling back in shock, approached with a strange kindness. He held her wrist and stayed silent for a moment.

His beauty was also a kindness to her. In that moment, Brishti could breathe a little bit better. He sat down by her knees, on the floor and when he spoke, his voice flowed like a tonic, “First time at the ballet? It’s overwhelming… I know. You’re okay. You are safe. Rothbart is not here. Talk to me… what are you feeling?”

The tears kept flowing. This man was different, she knew he understood what she was feeling like. She felt safe, but not as if she was with a saviour, rather as though she was with another victim.

“What are you feeling…” Park Jimin repeated. The pieces were falling into place in her head. This is Park Jimin, the man who danced as Rothbart. The man who should have danced the Prince. Who should have played Odette and Odile.

“I feel… rage.” Brishti trembled as she spoke. She could breathe again.

“Yes… Rothbart is… evil… I’m sorry-”

Brishti nodded her head no. “At the prince.”

Jimin was surprised. “Let it out. You can scream in here and no one would know.”

Brishti didn’t need another invitation, but her rage wasn’t a scream, it was a whisper - “I want to hit the prince. How could he not now? He couldn’t see that that girl was not Odette? Is he blind? The way she moved, the way she danced… which only means… it means that the prince knew… somewhere he felt doubt but he… He couldn’t fucking trust himself enough?! I don’t know why this is breaking my heart… Why can’t people trust in themselves?! It’s a pathetic fucking excuse and I can’t buy it… I just can’t. Why did the prince...” Her hands covered her face as she wiped her tears. She composed herself.

Jimin pulled out a kerchief. “May I?” Brishti nodded and he dabbed her face with care.

“The prince trusted his sight more than his soul. And now, Odette will die because of it. As always, the woman pays the price.”

“He dies too, you know.”

“What a waste…”

Jimin smiled, “Thank you… for watching the show, for feeling it so much.”

Brishti managed a weak smile, “Thank you.” Jimin stepped away and sat next to her, at a respectable distance. “I’m being lied to.”

Jimin nodded, “I know what that’s like. I feel that rage against the prince too. And still, we must be kind to our liars.”

Brishti clenched her teeth, “Why? Where’s the fairness in that?”

Jimin moves away, in a dejected kind of daze and pours himself a drink, “That’s the biggest lie, fairness. Cruel joke.”

Brishti walked toward the door. “I should go… Thank you.”

Jimin raised his glass to her.

Brishti wore her coat and walked toward the exit. She found Namjoon in a panic and suddenly felt like she could reach him. He looked so relieved to see her. She couldn’t help but feel awash with love as he crashed into her in the warmest hug. It was as if he was the one who was lost.

“Are you okay? Why were you crying?” Namjoon asked her as he stroked her head and held her in the hug for as long as she needed.

“I need to ask you something.” Brishti whispered as she pulled away. They began walking down the stairs of the theatre.

“Änything.” Namjoon replied.

“Your firm… they refused the Jimin case, right?”

Namjoon froze. His jaw locked up. “Let’s go home.”

The rest of the way, neither of them spoke a word. They entered their home in a cold silence. They washed the night off themselves and entered their bedroom, which was completely devoid of the heat and desire that usually filled it right up to the ceiling. What used to feel like an ocean, now felt like a vacuum.

When Namjoon walked in, Brishti reminded him, as kindly as she could,“I said I need to ask you something. You said, ‘anything’.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to talk about it.” Namjoon was cold again. Unfeeling. Unreachable.

Brishti tried her best to be calm… “When would you want to talk about it?”

Namjoon breathed in - “Why? Am I answerable to you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we disagree. I don’t think I am answerable to you. What would you have done if I wouldn’t have told you about it in the first place?”

“I would still be feeling what I’m feeling… I would be even more furious though.”

“Fu- why would you be furious? I have to work there, I lost the account. I’m feeling hurt and disappointed in myself and instead of helping me, you’re angry?! What the hell could you be angry at?!”

“I’m being lied to. I’m being tricked.”

“What?!” the contempt on Namjoon’s face made her head throb. He was angry now.

“There are two Namjoons here. I’m being told there’s only one and--”

“That is some philosophical trash that you learned from one of your books. Real life doesn’t work that way. But how would you know?! You don’t have a real job. You have a hobby. A hobby of stacking books in order. You’re just plain lucky that someone is paying you for your hobby. That’s not a job. You of all people cannot tell me about the things I have to do to keep my job. I have tried my best to be as honest as I can be--”

“As honest as you can --”

“Listen to me!” Namjoon thundered. His loud voice might as well have been a punch. It rang through her body and rattled her bones. She had tears in her eyes but clenched them down as Namjoon continued yelling, “Enough… enough with the fucking tears. What the fuck are you so sad about?! I don’t need you to pity me. I don’t need anyone to feel sad for me. I have tried to be a good man - do you even know how much other men don’t even mention to their wives?! I told you everything. EVERYTHING. And now I’m being punished for it. Time and time again I tried to console you… even though I was the one hurting… I tried to be there for you and tell you… as long as I have --”

Brishti couldn’t take it anymore “Don’t. Say that.” She didn’t yell. Her voice was just above a whisper and yet it sent a chill down Namjoon’s spine. She wiped her tears. “I didn’t ask to be consoled. I was just… curious. If a few questions from me hurt so much maybe you should ask yourself why. I’m not lucky that someone decided to pay me for my hobby. It’s nice to know what you really think of my job. But whatever you think, I created my job. I created my life. I fought to come to london. I fought for the right to earn--”

“Oh please... spare me the feminist lecture...” scoffed Namjoon.

“Sure. Take up Jimin’s case.”

Namjoon felt the burn of white hot rage. He wanted to strangle her. He was so used to touching her… and she was his… in this bedroom, he had made her his. He wasn’t thinking. Namjoon strode toward her and held one massive palm over her mouth and the other on her neck and pinned her to the wall. “YOU WOULDN’T HAVE KNOWN ABOUT THAT IF I DIDN’T TELL YOU.”

It took him a few moments to realise what he was doing. Brishti was shocked and tried to scream but no voice came out. She was trying to get him out of his daze when he finally saw her, saw his Rim, horrified… by him. Namjoon pulled his hands back instantly. He saw a red bruise bloom where his hands were - on her face and on her neck.

“This is how you make your conscience shut up?” Brishti’s voice was hoarse. “You think this has nothing to do with your conscience? With the best part of you? The part that you made me fall in love with? Are you really telling me you don’t know that this is why you can’t write the way you used to… You’re killing my Joon and asking me to stay silent. I can’t.”

The searing anger still hadn’t died and it burst out of him, “Why are we fighting like this… over Jimin… why don’t you take up his case if you fucking love him so much?”

“What do you think I’m doing right now?”

“You… Why are you fighting for him against me?!” It was here that Namjoon realised his armour was gone. The idea of who he is... suddenly vanished. And the one thing that had made him feel safe, like his true self, was slipping away. “You’re saying… just tell me… you’re saying what I think you’re saying.”

Brishti did him the only kindness she had left in her, she explained, “Jimin wants to leave but can’t. He stays because he needs to dance. He stays because he cannot get out of his contract. You say you want to help people like Jimin, you roll your eyes at white people who can’t pronounce our names, you feel guilty for asians who have much less than we do… but then you also don’t raise an issue when your boss holds meetings in clubs where people of other races and dogs and women are not allowed. You work overtime for the privilege of weekends… You say you are trying but… as far as I know… you don’t have a non-compete clause in your contract, Namjoon.”

That hit him like an iceberg. Namjoon’s legs gave way and he just sat on the bed.

He watched as Brishti put on her coat and left, covering her bruises with a scarf.

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

Chapter 6 - to be posted.

[raelikestoramble]

yesssss, I'm still trying to recover from the finale... Can you do an story w Eddie pining for Buck after his break up w Ana? Like he releaized his feelings for Buck after getting shot and almost dying but Buck is together w Tyler? Please and thank youuuu

AN: Sorry, this got away from me and I wrote more than I thought I would! Thanks for the great prompt, I really loved it but wasn’t sure where to take it, so a lot of this is Eddie’s internal thoughts. Hope you still like it!

Eddie hadn’t meant for it to go on for as long as it did. Truly, he hadn’t – time had a funny habit of slipping away from him as of late; in his recovery, what mattered most to him was getting himself back to normal – or as close as he could ever return to, given what he had been through – and keeping life as stable as possible… for Christopher. No big changes, no upsetting surprises.

That thought did little to ease the lingering sense of guilt, though.

It had been only a few days since Eddie finally sat Ana down to, as delicately as he could, say that their time together was coming to a close.

She had been so lovely about it, too, because that was her nature and it had made having to break it off worse, almost. Ana was kind, sweet, understanding – perfectly nice – and, for all those reasons, she deserved better, a lot more; someone who was completely in it for her, as invested in her as she was in them. He didn’t always realise it, but he knew for a while before he broke it off that he couldn’t be that person for Ana. In time, another would be. He was sure of it.

He had felt, much to his embarrassment, tears burning his eyes as he explained to her that he entered a relationship with her for the wrong reasons… and that he had so much to figure out about himself. She had clasped his hand in hers, gave a watery smile, and told him that she understood; she had even reassured him that it was all okay and he didn’t need to be too hard on himself over it. It was the most amicable split he could’ve imagined happening. With guilt, came the sweetness of relief, an acute light feeling that he didn’t notice was missing for the longest time.

And then, once that was over and the dust had settled… he was free. Free to… wallow, he supposed, in what he had realised weeks ago, because there was nothing that Eddie could do about it.

He remembered how it felt, being disoriented, in pain, slipping from consciousness, with those blue eyes boring into his, wide and frantic, as Buck fought hard for him, for his very life. How it felt afterwards seeing his face come into view from around the corner, smiling at him with such a genuine and unfiltered joy. Warmth, safety, and happiness – because Buck was family, that much he had decided to make official in a legal tie a year ago.

It was the overwhelming feeling of love, and relief in seeing him safe, unharmed and by his side the first chance he got, that sent Eddie’s mind reeling and down a path he couldn’t back out from. Buck was all of that to him, and more, and the feeling of longing had burrowed into Eddie’s mind, becoming a nagging and persistent sensation that made him feel… sick, flustered, and even morose.

Love – romantic and sexual love - for Eddie had always been a struggle, had wound up feeling oddly… unnatural, as though he was following the expectations of others, or his own idea of familial obligation, rather than his own heart. He was chasing something that, by all accounts, should have felt right, but with Ana… and even with Shannon, it was wrong; it all fell flat in some way. Finally becoming aware of the different light in which he saw Buck in was like a piece of himself just clicking into place; he felt whole, finally.

It was more than a little inconvenient, though, realising that he was in love with his best friend… someone that he happened to see pretty much every day, either at work or off shift. His very straight, very happily coupled up best friend. It was a lot to wrap his head around.

Of course, Eddie was being very mature about it, something he could find a small bit of pride in – because he knew he needed to get over this, to respect Buck’s happiness, his relationship with Taylor, and not ruin their friendship by foolishly expressing what he really wanted. That was the respectable, adult thing to do. So, he kept his desire quiet, and he tried his best to be the good, supportive friend Buck knew him to be, but… in a small way, he had pulled back; he knew he had. Sometimes, Eddie was allowed to act to protect himself; allowed to be a touch selfish. To get over it, he needed a bit more space than usual. It was only fair.

“Eddie,” came Hen’s voice unexpectedly; he picked up instantly on the concerned undertone.

From the corner of his eye, he could see her furrowed brows and the frown lines on her face. He wished people would stop looking at him like that – like he was to be pitied, like he was still injured and helpless. The whole team all went through their fair share of ordeals… it seemed part of the job description, but there was something about the sniper targeting them that unnerved everybody more than anything else that they had faced before. It had struck Eddie’s core, too, and brought up a lot of ugly, old wounds - he was giving therapy another try because of it… and it was going better than it had before, to his surprise.

It had been months since he was shot, significant progress had been made, but there was still an unspoken tension in the firehouse at times. It was especially bad with Buck – he had pulled closer than ever, always happy, eager even, to offer his support and help in… everything, which made Eddie’s need for maintaining some space between them all the more difficult. It also gave him a sliver of hope, and that was a dangerous thing. He had grown too dependent on Buck; he had someone else to share him with now, he thought with a pang to his chest.

“Yeah?” he returned tiredly after a delay, still staring ahead.

His gaze was fixed on where Buck was sat a small distance away with Chimney by his side, his head thrown back laughing in a moment that ought to be captured in a photograph – oh, and how that beautiful, jubilant sound leaving his mouth twisted mercilessly at Eddie’s insides.

“You’ve been moving that piece of pasta around your bowl for the last ten minutes.”

“… So I have,” he sighed, letting his fork clatter against the plate in defeat.

He’d barely touched his lunch, but his appetite had been culled. Buck’s voice was loud – it carried effortlessly across the room. So, he easily overheard Buck responding to Chimney bringing up the topic of Taylor, and it was… embarrassing, the impact it had, how easily it soured his mood.

“Is that all I get? It’s ‘going well’?” Chimney exclaimed, nudging Buck’s side, a teasing grin on his face. “C’mon, Buckley. We usually can’t get you to shut up.”

Buck laughed bashfully and lifted his head up, almost catching his eye, but Eddie averted his gaze just in time to miss it. He could’ve sworn that he caught the sight of Buck’s smile faltering. He shook his head, working to tune out that conversation as best he could.

“You know… it’s okay to need more time. If you’re not ready to be back yet, no one will think less of you,” Hen suggested hesitantly, voice soft.

“No, it’s-- not that. I’m glad to be back. This is where I need to be,” he said simply.

Eddie didn’t like where this conversation was headed – but none of it broke through to his expression, and so Hen pushed on, sympathy etched into her features.

“Then… tell me what’s bothering you? You seem down, Eddie – a lot, lately – and I can’t sit here and act like I’m not worried.”

Had it really been that obvious? It was like he, a man in his thirties, had been rendered a hapless, lovestruck teenager – with how he let his feelings for Buck affect him so obviously that Hen had not only noticed but grown worried for him. It was so tragic he could almost laugh.

“Mm, I have a therapist for that,” he said with a wry smile, but instantly regretted it as he saw how Hen leant back in her seat, lips twisting into a frown.

She was trying to help, to be a good friend, and he was dismissive of her attempt right away. His tendency to try to avoid more heavy, emotional talks was one of the issues brought up in therapy and he really was working on it, but it felt impossible, in that moment, to tell the truth, to speak the words aloud to somebody else. Even though he knew Hen would, without a doubt, understand and keep his secret for him – that it might even help for her to know, as awkward and humiliating as it might be at first.

“Sorry. I just…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He dared to look back over to the corner where Buck was – now, he was showing Chimney pictures on his phone, which were undoubtedly of him and Taylor. Jealousy welled up inside of Eddie, burning hot, and another sigh fell from his lips as he lifted a hand to run down the side of his face. It wasn’t getting easier, only more frustrating.

When he glanced back at Hen, she was already watching him, an odd look on her face, eyes slowly widening. Realisation had already dawned before he could interject and divert the conversation.

“Wait. You-- Buck--?” she started.

Panic enveloped Eddie and, before she could go any further, he abruptly sprang to his feet, hands clasped together.

“Coffee?” he asked loudly.

Without waiting for her to give an answer, he made his escape, darting over to the countertop where the coffee pot was located. After a short pause, he noticed that Hen had made no effort to follow him, because – of course she hadn’t. What was he expecting? Her to run after him, get him into a headlock until he confessed to the revelation that he had that he was head over heels for Evan Buckley? No, this wasn’t a playground. He needed to get a grip.

His shoulders slumped as he expelled a heavy breath out into the air. He gave himself another moment, to allow his heart to stop pounding wildly in his chest, before leaning up to grab a clean mug from the cabinet.

“That was awful,” he muttered to himself, swiping his favourite from the shelf.

“What was awful?” asked Buck, suddenly, appearing at his side.

“Oh, God,” Eddie jumped, and the mug almost slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor.

Catching it and clutching at it, Eddie gave a breathless laugh.

“Nope, just me,” Buck countered, popping the ‘p’, with a toothy grin on display that caused Eddie’s stomach to start doing flips. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Eddie’s expression softened, the hints of anxiety vanishing from his face as he lowered the mug to the surface. He reached for another, automatically, eyes still on Buck. He really was beautiful to look at, all bright, excited eyes, soft dark blonde curls, and crooked smiles – and what was most unfair about it all was that his good looks weren’t the most beautiful thing about him by a long shot.

“I’ll let you off the hook,” he grinned.

Buck leaned forward and his shoulder brushed against Eddie’s, sending a jolt through him that made him step back, the contact quickly lost. Fortunately for him, Buck didn’t seem to have noticed anything.

“So, anyway, I was wondering – you got any plans tonight?” Buck asked cheerily.

Eddie was slow to smile again, but he did, because he knew what he was about to do – give in, so easily. Space was important, but… so was spending quality time with loved ones. He could practically hear his therapist’s voice offering him encouragement.

“I think I have a spot open in my schedule,” he said slowly, giving the impression of nonchalance.

“Great! What do you say to joining me and Taylor out for drinks tonight? You could bring Ana. I think it’d be good for them to start to get to know each other better, don’t you?”

Eddie’s heart sank in his chest, eyes closing for a few seconds before he plastered a placid smile to his face. Disappointment was such a bitter taste, and… he really needed to get around to telling him about Ana. Even if he and Ana were still together and he could agree to this double date, the thought of watching Buck and Taylor together for a whole night… well, he could think of a long list of things he’d rather do instead.

“Actually, I don’t think I can – I don’t know how it slipped my mind but, after my appointment, I promised Christopher that I’d spend the night with him…”

He felt bad using his own son, someone Buck loved dearly, as a shield, but it had to be done – Buck wouldn’t question anything if it was done for Chris’ benefit.

Buck’s smile strained, and there was a look in his eyes that Eddie couldn’t quite place. He dropped his gaze to the floor, and Eddie caught his lower lip between his teeth.

“Well, what about next Friday?”

“I can’t—”

“Man, I… Eddie, have I done something?” Buck interrupted; brows knit together in worry.

“Sorry?”

He looked vaguely embarrassed – and was that a pink tinge to his face? Surely not. No, Eddie was seeing things he wanted to see. He didn’t want to play that guessing game anymore, reading into every little interaction they shared, for some kind of sign. It was exhausting.

“It’s just… I don’t know, you’re a lot busier than before, maybe, but things are definitely… different. I—miss you,” he admitted sheepishly.

Clearly, this had been bothering him for a while now, and Eddie felt stupid and cruel for ever thinking that Buck wouldn’t notice that he was limiting their time together, even if only by a relatively small amount.

“Things are different,” Eddie explained carefully, trying to figure out his wording. “It makes sense that we, er, aren’t spending as much time together, because…”

Buck waved a hand.

“I know I’ve got Taylor now and you’ve got Ana, but that doesn’t mean that—”

“Buck, I ended things with Ana,” Eddie cut across impulsively.

There was an incredibly still moment that followed, and a tense quiet descended upon them, the only sounds the muffled comings and goings and odd background chatter from their other teammates. Buck’s lips parted and he appeared to be frozen as he slowly computed this information, and Eddie was almost scared to move – to break the spell.

It was getting alarming, and Eddie was about to wave a hand in front of his face, until finally he returned to reality, snapping back with a quiet and bemused, “Wait, you did what? … Why? You two seemed so happy. I thought you… that’s why…”

Eddie shifted uncomfortably, taking in a breath as he turned to properly face Buck again, making direct eye contact. Buck wet his lip, a crease forming in his brow. Eddie wanted nothing more than to know what was going through his mind, but he was at a loss this time. Usually, he could read him so well.

Eddie shrugged – an attempt in vain to still appear casual. He knew he was way beyond that point now.

“I realised she wasn’t the one for me. And… I know everyone says it, and us first responders more than anyone, and we still sometimes forget to actually live by it… but life really is too short to spend with the wrong person. I owed it to her, and to myself, to end it.”

Buck blinked rapidly, and, really, Eddie couldn’t understand why this was all coming as such a shock to him. Had he really expected he and Ana to go the distance? For him to settle down with her?

“Eddie…”

“Yeah?”

Then, the wailing of the siren pierced through the air; whatever question had formed in Buck’s mind would have to remain there, until another time.

[desertno3]

Violet – Chapter Four (5/7)

When Sean finally meets his daughter, you wonder why you ever left him in the first place.

Sean Wallace x fem!reader Chapter Four: 1991 words

Prologue // Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three

A/N: Hi! This chapter became longer than I ever planned it to be lol and as a result this series is now going to be seven parts instead of six! Low-key excited about what’s coming up but for now, I hope you enjoy this chapter! 🧡🧡

Taglist: @ysmmsy​ @prettyinpayne​ @the-a-word-2214​ @peakywitch​ @danceyreagan​ @ella1grace03 @whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes​

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this series! ​

You wipe your hands on a tea towel when you hear the front door open, signalling Violet and Sean’s return. You then hear Violet’s footsteps pitter-patter down the hallway, immediately followed by Sean telling her to come back and take her shoes off first. Smiling to yourself, you leave the kitchen and head over to greet them, finding Sean knelt down and helping your daughter out of the aforementioned shoes.

“We’re back mum!” Violet says happily when she sees you.

“Yes, I can see that, love,” You smile before giving her a look. “Vi, you know how to take off your own shoes.”

“It’s fine,” Sean assures you, leaning over to place them neatly off to the side. 

He had been visiting frequently ever since you and Vi moved into your new place - an arrangement you both had agreed on not long after everything had been dealt with. He wanted to be an active part of Violet’s life and you were more than willing to let that happen, knowing how much it would mean not only to him but to Violet, too. She still didn’t know the truth about Sean but it was clear she’d grown attached nonetheless, her eyes never failing to light up every time you told her Sean was coming over. Today, she had been particularly excited because he promised he would take her to a park.

“There was a pond at the park, mum!” Violet exclaims excitedly, practically bouncing where she stood. “And we saw so many ducks! And swans. And gooses! One got angry at Sean.”

She’s giggling as she tells you the latter and you look at Sean with an amused expression on your face. Still crouched before your daughter, he glances up to give you a deadpan look as if to say don’t even ask, which makes you snort.

You both miss the way Violet’s gaze flits between the both of you curiously, a happy smile forming on her face. She then throws her arms around Sean, hugging him farewell.

“Bye Sean.”

He sways a little at the force with which she throws herself at him but manages to steady himself, chuckling as he hugs her back.

“So eager to be rid of me, hm?”

Violet pulls away with a sheepish look on her face, “I’m going to watch TV now.”

“Go on then,” He taps her nose. “I’ll see you later.”

She grins at him and then she’s gone, energetically sprinting past you and down the hallway, making a quick beeline for the living room.

“You don’t need to run!” You call out to her but it’s futile, she’d already disappeared into the other room. Behind you, you hear Sean chuckle.

“You’re such a mum,” He teases, getting up onto his feet.

You let out an amused scoff in response, folding your arms across your chest. “Don’t even start, she'll be a little terror if I don’t give her some rules to adhere to.”

Sean smiles fondly, thinking about his little terror of a daughter. While you were mostly joking, Sean knew there was a bit of truth to your statement. It was a task and a half to wrangle Violet sometimes, the headstrong little thing that she was. Unsurprising, Sean thinks amusedly, considering who her parents were.

But as difficult as she could be sometimes, Sean had seen first-hand all the good values you’d managed to instill in her. You’d definitely raised a sweet kid, one who was wonderfully earnest and full of kindness, and he tells you just as much, with a genuine sincerity in his tone that catches you off guard.

“You’ve raised her well, y/n,” He says sincerely, leaving you speechless for a moment. You didn’t expect to hear that from him at all.

“Thanks, Sean. I feel like I’m a terrible mum sometimes,” You confess quietly. “So that’s… that means a lot.”

He smiles and you’re sure your heart skips a beat.

You didn’t want to admit it but you enjoyed Sean's visits just as much as Violet did. The more time you spent around him, the more you found yourself falling for him all over again. You’d forgotten how well the two of you could get along and on top of that, watching him and Violet spend time together made you melt. You had no real inkling as to how he felt about you but moments like these definitely didn’t help your growing feelings.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?”

It comes out of your mouth before you could even think to stop yourself and when you see the surprise and hesitation on his face, you immediately regret asking.

“You don’t have to, obviously,” You assure him, trying to backtrack. “You probably have things to do.”

He winces apologetically, “Yeah, I’m sorry. I’ve got to go back to the office tonight, unfortunately. Take care of some things.”

“That’s fine!” You reply almost too quickly, embarrassed at the fact that you might’ve been too forward by asking him in the first place. “No worries.”

There’s an awkward pause where neither you nor Sean know what to say next and you sigh, feeling like you’d just ruined a perfectly good moment between you two.

“Well I won’t keep you then,” You continue as nonchalantly as you could, hoping he didn’t notice how mortified you were. “I hope you have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too.”

He gives you one last parting smile and you watch as he heads out the door, hating how disappointed and embarrassed you feel after it clicks shut behind him.

You stand there for a moment before letting out an agonised groan and heading back to the kitchen, trying to forget that conversation ever happened.

The rest of your night is filled with your usual routine - dinner, dishes and then giving Violet a bath before bed - but no matter how hard you try, you can't help but keep dwelling on the exchange, ruminating on what it might have meant.

You were starting to feel foolish for thinking that maybe things were changing between you and Sean. That’s what led you to ask him to stay for dinner to begin with, thinking you were both at a place where that could happen without any tension or awkwardness. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe he wouldn’t have stayed even if he didn’t have business to attend to. 

You shake your head, trying to stop yourself from going further down that rabbit hole. You were going to drive yourself crazy if you kept thinking about it. The fact of the matter was that you had no idea how Sean felt about you but he was here nonetheless because he cared about Violet. You just had to live with that and forget your feelings.

Easier said than done, you think sourly. When the mere sight of him makes my goddamn heart race.

"Mummy?" Violet asks while you shampoo her hair, bringing you out of your spiral of thoughts.

"Hm?"

"You and Sean should get married."

You nearly choke on the air you breathe. Pausing your actions, you look at her in bewilderment but her eyes are on her hands as she glides them through the soapy water.

“Why do you say that, Vi?” You pry gently.

You wonder if you’d been that obvious with your feelings or if maybe Sean had said something, but she just shrugs like it was simply a passing thought she decided to say out loud.

“Sean and I are friends, darling,” You say to her, though you were starting to wonder if maybe that label was a stretch. “Usually people who get married are dating each other."

Violet makes a contemplative face, “Will you and Sean do that?”

“What, date?”

She nods, leaving you more confused than ever.

“I doubt it, Vi,” You sigh.

I burned that bridge a long time ago.

You massage her scalp gently, lathering up the shampoo as you watch her continue to play with the water, your own mind racing.

“Did you want us to date?” You ask her, still trying to figure out where this was coming from.

She nods again.

“Why?”

Violet looks sheepish now, patting away at the bubbles that surrounded her, and she says shyly, “So then I can have a dad.”

~

You sit against your headboard with your head in your hands, thinking about everything that had transpired since the late afternoon. Not only were you dealing with your reemerging feelings for Sean - who most likely did not reciprocate them - you were also dealing with a daughter who suggested you marry the man because that was the only way she thought she could get a dad.

Letting out a frustrated groan, you press your head against your forearms. You were acutely aware that you would not be dealing with any of this if you’d never left Sean in the first place. You sit there despairingly for a long while before a persistent buzz from your phone starts to fill the air. Lifting your head, you blink in surprise at the caller ID before answering it.

“Sean?”

“Hi,” His voice comes through the speaker, making your heart involuntarily skip a beat. “Sorry, I know it’s late.”

“It’s fine,” You assure him, shifting the phone to a more comfortable position. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, I just… I wanted to apologise again for not being able to stay for dinner. I should have taken you up on it, the meeting I went to instead was the dullest shit imaginable.”

You can’t help the small laugh that bubbles out of your throat at the grouchy tone his voice takes on as he tells you about how dull it was, “Sorry to hear that.”

He hums in response and you could just imagine the amused smirk on his face. “You don’t sound very sorry.”

“Well, I don’t know,” You reply. “Violet spent all of dinner telling me about every animal you saw at the pond today. Not sure if you would prefer a play-by-play of your own day over the meeting.”

“You underestimate how boring the meeting was.”

“No,” You laugh. “I’ll take your word for it.”

There’s a natural lull in the conversation and you know you have to take the opportunity to clear the air, for the sake of your own sanity.

“Sean,” You start, steeling yourself with an inhale. “I hope I didn’t overstep earlier, asking you to stay for dinner.”

“Overstep?”

“I… I worried you might’ve thought it was a bit much. The three of us have never properly spent time all together so I realise that it might have been a big ask and-”

“It was fine, y/n,” He says softly, quelling your worries. “I was surprised you asked but it wasn’t a problem. I would’ve liked it, the three of us together.”

After all that time you’d spent ruminating earlier, the statement is more than you ever expected from him. So much so that you’re rendered speechless, your heart in your throat.

“That’s why I called, actually,” He continues. “I wanted to ask if you and Vi wanted to come over for dinner next weekend. To make up for the fact that I couldn’t tonight.”

You don’t even have to think twice about your answer.

“Yes, of course. We’d love to.”

“Great,” He says and you can hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll see you both then.”

You can’t help but smile in return, “Looking forward to it.”

“Me too. Goodnight y/n.”

“Night, Sean.”

You’re giddy as you place your phone on your bedside table and settle into bed for the night, Sean’s call single-handedly flipping your entire mood. Maybe it was silly to feel that way after just one phone call but you couldn’t help it, not when it came to Sean. Against all your better judgement, you feel a little spark of hope in your chest as you drift off to sleep.

Maybe there was something there after all.

[andie01writing]

Beasts Pt 6

I stretch widely against the solid body of Braun, his arms tightening around me.

“Do you ever sleep a full night,” he mumbles.

“Not in a long time,” I sigh. “Sorry.”

“Not a problem. Just worried about you.”

“Thank you,” I mumble, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“What time is it?”

I lean up to try to see the bedside clock over his shoulder. “No idea. I can’t see the clock. This bed is too wide for me to reach my phone on my side table. Before dawn.”

Maybe you should try sleeping on your side of the bed,” he chuckles reaching behind him to grab his phone.

“I do. Some big lug keeps pulling me to his side,” I grin, nuzzling along his jaw.

“It’s two thirty in the morning,” he sighs. “Want to try to get some more sleep?”

“You can,” I chuckle, kissing along the side of his throat. “I’m going to do this.”

“That will make it very difficult for me to sleep,” he chuckles.

“Really,” I smile, my hands slide down his bare chest. “Sucks to be you. Because I love kissing you.”

“Really?”

Mmmhmm,” I hum, raising my head. “Hey,” I smirk as I catch a glimpse of his lock screen. “That is me. Where did you get that picture?” Taking the device from his hand, I study the picture. I’m standing at the edge of the woods, my nose raised to the wind.

“Trent,” he states simply. Unlocking the phone, another picture of my wolf is centered behind the apps. This one showing my hug with Pete.

“Naomi,” I guess.

He nods. “Just because I’ve never seen you change doesn’t mean I don’t know your wolf,” he pecks my lips. “My beautiful wolf. You’re always beautiful to me. No matter what form you’re in.”

“I’m just a basic black wolf.”

“I’ve studied every picture that your guards sent me,” he murmurs stroking my hair back from my face. “You have a single white nail on your back left paw, third from the outside. The fur along your spine and muzzle is a slightly deeper black than the rest of you. You used to move with your head hung low, now your head is held high but you still tuck your tail like a scared dog. I could pick you out of a line up of black wolves. Plus, those amber eyes… I can feel those things in my soul.”

“You say all the best things,” leaning up I capture his lips.

His hand hesitantly grips my hip and I mold myself against him. “Gods, I love doing that,” I whisper as we part.

“I love when you do that.”

“I…I think I’m falling…falling for you.”

A smile spreads across his face. “I can accept that because I know I’m falling for you.”

“Really?”

“How many times do I have to say it.”

“Every damn day,” I grin. “With every kiss. And every touch.”

“As you wish, Princess.” His hand snakes beneath my shirt, rough thick fingers side across my stomach sending heat straight between my thighs. “Tala Strowman,” he murmurs, maneuvering so he can look into my eyes. His dark eyes reflect the small amount of moonlight filtering through the window. “Beloved wolf among bears, a feat no one thought was possible. Omega wolf who became a leader.”

“That is the feat that should amaze everyone,” I smile, trying to blink back happy tears.

“You’re my wife and mate, my heart belongs to you.” He presses a kiss on my shoulder. “Please don’t cry.”

“They’re happy tears, Teddy Bear. No one has ever said anything like that to me. No one has made me feel the way you do. The Marrok healed my mind mostly. Regal healed my body. No one healed my soul. I know…I know, it’s the one part of me that I need to take care of myself but you’re helping me find myself. I didn’t think I would have anyone like you. It gives me hope for the first time in a really long time. Thank you for…” I search for the right words. “I don’t know. For being you. For your patience. For your sweetness. For showing me that I’m more than I was taught to believe.” I’m acutely aware of the sensations his fingers send through my body as they skim along my skin. “For making me want…something I never thought I would.”

“Which is?”

“I… I mean I know we’ve…” His hand moves northward slightly and my muscles start to tremble. His hand spread wide there. “I know,” I try again. “During my heats. But I’ve nev…Outside of that time frame. I can’t even articulate what I’m thinking,” I groan, covering my face with my hands.

“Hey,” he sighs taking my hands into one of his. “I got the basic idea. You don’t have to rush into anything. You are in charge of that aspect,” he smiles, kissing my knuckles.

“But I want it,” I whisper. “You make me feel things…good things that I’ve never felt before.”

Levering himself up onto one elbow, he places one of my hands on the back of his neck. “You can say stop at any point and I will. I promise you.”

I nod, pulling him down to me.

“What do you like, Princess?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “Stupid question. How about, I try things and you tell me if they’re okay or not. You like kissing so how about we start,” he lowers his mouth to my neck, “here.”

I release a shaky breath as his lips glide along my pulse point.

“Tala?”

“Don’t stop,” I pant, tightening my grip on him. “Like it.”

“Okay,” I feel him smile against me. He spends a few more seconds repeating the action before moving to my shoulder, a soft pinch of his teeth.

“Don’t like.”

“Keep my teeth to myself, got it.” His mouth kisses and sucks at the skin and I bare my throat more to the man. His fingers soothe soft circles across my torso sending more heat between my thighs. “May I?” He tugs at the shirt.

“It’s your shirt,” I smirk remembering his past habit of ripping shirts off of me. “Do whatever…” A giggle cuts off the sentence as he rips the shirt down the middle.

“Much better,” he grins, his hand sliding up to knead my breast gently and all the breath leaves me at the sensation. I have never been touched this way with this much gentleness. “Yes or no, Princess?”

I nod wildly. “Yes. Like. Love.”

“Good to know,” he breathes, dragging his lips down the valley between my breasts. “I want to know everything that makes my beautiful wolf happy. What about…” His lips trace up and around my nipple.

“Yes,” I whimper as a pointed tongue snakes out to tease the peak. He fights against my grip as I try to pull him closer as his touches turn feather soft. “Braun. No teasing,” I whine, arching towards him.

“No teasing,” he grins, his fingers slide lower to waistband of my panties. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes…” Another wave of want and heat rolls through me. “No…”

“Too much work out of heat. No one has time for that,” Dad’s words float through my brain.

“I…I don’t know.”

“Okay, we can stop.”

“No,” I whimper, a deep ache settling in my lower belly at the thought.

“Tala, you don’t have to do anything.”

“I want to,” I whine.

“But?”

“I don’t know if my body will cooperate. I’m too much work outside of my heat.”

“Who told you…Never mind,” he leaves the bed.

“Braun?”

Gripping me above my knees he drags me to the edge of the bed, “Anyone who tells you you’re too much work…I don’t even have the words to describe that. Because you deserve to be worshiped.” He bends over to press soft kisses along my stomach, my fingers tangling in his hair. “They should fall to their knees at your feet.”

“No one kneels to an Omega. Bears kneel to no one.”

“I kneel to my Ursus,” he hits his knees. “I kneel to my wife.” He drags my panties down my legs. “I kneel for my Queen.” He drags his nose up my inner leg, stopping mid-thigh huffing out a breath. “Your body is definitely cooperating. Smell so…perfect.”

“Braun, please.” I don’t know what exactly I’m asking for but I release a breath as his lips press against my thigh.

He slowly kisses a path up one leg before turning his attention to the opposite leg. His eyes lock onto mine as he reaches my apex. He smirks as my hips buck at the soft kiss he lays there. Ever so slowly his tongue slips into my slit exploring. He moans into me and I arch at the sensations the vibrations send through me. One heavy hand presses on my ribcage as his tongue circles my clit slowly. His beard rubbing along my thighs lightly. I pull his hand up to my breast holding it there with both hands around his wrist as I grind against his mouth. “Love. Love,” I keen. “Braun. More.”

“More,” he asks pulling back. A single finger of his free hand sliding up and down my slit.

“Yes, please. I’m begging. I’ll do anything.”

“Not necessary.” He sinks his middle finger into me and my eyes roll up in my head. “My beautiful, strong, and caring wolf,” he coos, his finger pumping slowly. “My sweet Omega. So good for me. Come undone for me.”

“I…I don’t,” I pant. “I don’t know…if…if I…”

“Yes, you can,” he sighs, adding a second finger. “Just listen to your body.”

“Mouth. Tongue,” I whimper. “Please.”

“No begging. Whatever you want I will give you.”

His mouth returns and I moan, clenching around his fingers.

“Yes. I’m a good Omega. Good wife. Good for Mate. Need to be a good mate.”

His fingers hook pulling a low moan from me as an orgasm washes over me.

“Beautiful,” he grins, leaning back to lick his fingers lewdly. “Always so beautiful.”

“Braun,” I pant, crooking a finger at him. “Come here Mate.”

“Not enough yet?”

“Needy wanton Omega,” I whimper, my hands fisting into the blanket. “Never satisfied.”

“Beautiful Omega. Saddled with a bear who can’t satisfy her,” he argues in a soft growl, shaking his head. “Has to suppress her most beautiful instincts to satisfy me. I…”

I launch myself at him, wrapping my legs around his waist as I bury my face into his neck. “No. No. No. No. You’re so good to me. I’m the one who’s broken. I’m sorry.” I press open mouth kisses along his neck and shoulder, my hips rolling against his on their own accord. “Forgive me.”

“Nothing to for…Fuck,” he groans as my teeth sink in above his pec.

“Bad?”

“No. Not at all,” he pants as my tongue laves over the spot my teeth were seconds before. “Unexpected.”

“So I should do it again,” I ask against his skin, turning my head to repeat the action over his opposite pec.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he chuckles, bucking his hips against me.

“Did you mean it when you said you would give me anything I want?” My mouth slides downward.

“Yes, Princess,” he groans. “I would give you the fucking world if you asked.”

“I want you,” I growl.

Pulling me back up his body, he pecks my lips. “Then take me,” he grins. His cock settles against my stomach.

“Either you have magic shorts or you want this as much as me.”

“Have you tasted you,” he smirks as I position him at my entrance.

Leaning in I probe his mouth with my tongue before sinking down him slowly, Braun releasing a long breath. “Now I have. Not as good as you, Teddy Bear.” My mouth sliding across his collarbones. “Delicious.” My teeth sink in once again, his cock twitches inside me.

“So good to me. Knows just what I like. Ride me, Mate,” he rumbles throwing his head back to expose his throat.

I growl low in my throat. “Is my big bad bear submitting to little old me?” I rise until just his crown is inside of me.

He nods furiously as our hips connect again. Rocking slowly, I watch the delight on his face. “I was told something about marking during mating.”

“I’m not an Alpha but if that’s what my mate needs,” I bite the connection between his neck and shoulder.

“Just like that,” he moans. The sound spurring me faster.

“Fuck, that is sexy,” I mumble, releasing his neck. “My perfect bear mate. Filling this needy Omega pussy…Stretching it so…” I dissolve into whimpers and growls as he bucks up into me harshly.

“Please,” he moans. “Don’t stop talking. Please.”

“Ca…Can’t. Feels so good. Never…Before…Fuck,” I pant falling against his chest. “Braun,” I scream as my second orgasm leaves me a shuddering mess on top of him. He continues to buck up into me seeking his own completion. “Mate,” I state, voice rough. “Husband. Mine.” I press open mouth kisses across his skin. “All fucking mine. Fucking sates me every time. Gotta do the same for him.”

He croons wordlessly as I circle my hips sluggishly.

“Gotta love him better. Gotta give him the cubs he deserves someday. Good Omega.” My tongue slips out to lavish his nipple.

“Fuck,” he growls, pinning our hips together. His release filling me. “I love you. My perfect wolf.”

“I love you. My caring bear,” I whisper moving to pull away.

“Not yet,” one arm banding around my waist holding me close. “Did you mean it,” he questions, hand stroking along my side.

“Yes. Everything I said…”

“You want to have my cubs?”

I nod against him. “I want more just like you. I watch you with Ursula and Orsin, you’re so great with them. I want to give you that. I just can’t within the next two months. I don’t even know if I can within the next two years but I want to give that to you. Unless…” I lift my head to look at him. “You don’t want…I can go back on my suppressants.”

“Of course, I want. I didn’t give up the throne because I didn’t want kids or didn’t want you. It’s the complete opposite. I only want you. Not to have my father whore me out to whoever he deems worthy. I never want to hurt you like he did. What,” he asks as my head tilts.

“I thought I heard something out…”

A female’s shouts in the distance before turning into a blood curdling scream echoing through town. Two tiny voice joining in that I immediately recognize.

“Hannah.”

The change takes me over as soon as I step out the door, a howl bubbling from my throat as I take off at a run. A chocolate wolf joining me a block into the run, a brown bear joining a half block later. I turn my head to study the bear, “Has to be Pete.”

Bayley lets out an alarm bark seconds before I trip over something large. My shoulder skids along the concrete before coming to rest facing my obstacle. The mauled body of my sister-in-law. Jumping to my feet I rush to her side. “Please. Please. Braun doesn’t need this,” I think snuffling along her body. There is no sign of life. Bayley leans into me as I whimper. “Kids. Where are the cubs?” Circling, I try to catch their scent. Bayley joining in before yipping. She disappears under a thick hedge row, her hind legs and tail only visible. I dive in after her.

“Aunt Tala,” a little voice whispers and I finally break through to a void within the hedge. Ursula is pressed against the back of the void, her brother peaking over shoulder. I let out a huff of breath in relief.

“Which one is Aunt Tala?”

Bayley backs up slightly and I stretch my neck out to lay my muzzle as close to the cubs as possible. The smell of blood fills my nose erasing the relief. I claw at the dirt trying pull myself closer.

“Orsin, he got some of Mom’s…” she chokes. “Mom’s blood on him. I smell it too. We’re fine. I promise.”

I shake my head. “Fresh blood. Live Blood. Hurt.”

“Ursula got cut by his knife. She’s bleeding.”

“Orsin,” she growls.

I yip at her.

“It’s small. I’m fine,” she pulls her pants up to reveal a shallow cut across her calf seeping blood. “He’s coming back. He wants to kill us.”

“No. No. Not happening.” Shimming backwards, I pull myself from the hedge. My nose immediately hitting the ground sorting through the different scents. Pete stands over me, eyes surveying the area. “Can’t find the bastard. Area too high traffic. Too many smells. Wait. There he is.” The same scent covers the area around the hedge and Hannah’s body. I follow the strange bear’s scent, Pete hovering making the tracking process more difficult but not impossible. Pete roars swiping me out of the way as something large and black tackles him, my head bouncing against the curb. Black spots dance across my vision as I lay there, the pain of a shattered shoulder making my stomach roil. “Too much pain. Need to heal.” The bears battle into my line of vision, Pete’s opponent is a huge black bear. A few bloody marks mark the larger bears torso and face while claw marks tattoo Pete’s body. The brown bear panting heavily as he faces off with the larger bear, the black bear’s back to me. Pulling myself up slowly, the dull ache of healing still not hitting me, I move towards the battling bears watching for any opening to help my guard. I finally see my opportunity as the large bear sinks back onto his hunches in preparation to stand, his forepaw raised to claw Pete again. I launch myself, latching onto his wrist and using my momentum to swing my hind legs around his body. Digging my claws between his ribs, I release my hold to snap around his throat. The roar of pain from the bear is slightly airy indicating I have punctured his trachea, before being ripped from the bear. His full weight coming down on my throat and I try to howl in pain as something snaps there. Nothing comes out. I snarl trying to squirm from beneath the larger animal, his muzzle lowering towards me. Pete throws himself at the other bear, claws ripping at the bite mark. I pull myself painfully to my feet to help once again. A roar washes over the area as the largest grizzly I have ever laid eyes on appears, the black bear scrambling away and the grizzly gives chase. I scramble over to the brown bear heaving in a heap. He changes back, trying to push my muzzle away gently as I lick at his wounds. “ ‘M fine. ‘M fine,” he huffs.

“No. Hurt,” I think snuffling along him. “Because of me. Hurt bad.”

The grizzly returns with another deafening roar and I straddle my guard putting myself between him and the new enemy. I snarl at the giant bear and it cocks his head at me looking almost amused.

“Ursavus,” Pete nods.

“Braun.” Relief taking my legs out from beneath me.

“Ugh,” Pete huffs as I collapse onto him.

“Ursavus,” a strange bear rushes in. The dim light of early morning glimmering across the dark skin of his naked torso. “The bear has eluded us.”

I will the change back and find nothing. The magic not responding to my call.

“Tala,” Pete mutters as I struggle to my feet.

I stretch and finally find a half change.

“Ursus,” the new bear’s brow furrows, and his eyes hit the ground. “What…”

“Can’t heal,” I rasp falling forward, darkness pulling at the edges of my vision. He catches me under the arms.

“You should be dead,” he mutters.

“Wha…”

Familiar hands pull at my arms and darkness finally swallows me.