#(to be fair he’d actively deny it if asked)

[shaykai]

Oh, another ask: can you tell me more about how Tav'ilin wound up following Vat'il to Bhaal? (as I am assuming...) What does he think of Vat'il's relationship with Gortash?

Have some vaguely related scribbles!

The working story currently is that Tav’ilin messed up in someway- likely being too loud/very possibly speaking out against his sister- and was going to either be executed or turned into a drider. Luckily (and unluckily) for Tav, Vat’il cares about him! And him and Sceleritas were already talking about trying to leave, so Tav being in trouble pretty much just expedited the process.

Tav’ilin and Vat’il also just get along pretty well and tended to hang out a lot when they have a bit of free time (Vat also starts killing people Tav doesn’t like after a little while)

And as far as Gortash goes- he hates him! As far as Tav’ilin is concerned, nobody is good enough for Vat’il, least of all gross nasty Gortash. (Also doesn’t help that Vat’il and Tav are codependent to a pretty extreme extent, and Gortash existing tends to disrupt them constantly being around each other. Definitely gets worse when Tav finds out that Vat is planning on killing Gortash last instead of him)

[triple-7-heaven]

ONCE AGAIN

thank you for waiting for me, readers. i do hope you enjoy it ♡ my first aespa fic, awesome! i've been going through it, thus the lack of content, but things are looking up for me. take care of yourselves, until next time :-) pairing: male reader x winter; words: 6.5k ; categories: aespa, winter, reader insert, smut, slightly storyline heavy

Back in high school, there was a girl who shone above the rest, but wasn’t necessarily popular. A girl who was a member of the math club, the photography club, and the dance team, whose evenings were filled with activities, who made many friends, but wasn’t fawned over by the student body in the way the true popular kids were. 

One evening, you were at school pretty late, tutoring in the library. You were so engrossed in your work that you didn’t notice the time passing, until the janitor came in and told you he’d be needing to clean the library up, so you’d better scram. Backpack full of books, you rushed out of the library, and quickly made your way through the dark hallway. You turned the corner and nearly collided with a small girl, who grabbed onto your arm to steady herself. 

“I-I’m so sorry,” you said, and the girl looked up at you. Oh, perfect… “Minjeong, shit, I’m sorry…” 

“Hosang, what are you doing here so late?” Minjeong asked. 

“Uh, tutoring… You know my name?” you asked incredulously. She smoothed out your sleeve, folded the collar of your shirt down, and tucked her hair behind her ear. 

“You know mine, too,” she quipped and giggled before running to catch up with her dance team friends, leaving you without room to explain yourself. To explain that no, I promise it isn’t weird, everyone knows your name, Minjeong, I’m not a crazy stalker, and I’m not here to spy on you through the gym windows while you dance. But you never got to explain yourself. To be fair, you did admire her from a distance. In the halls, at lunch, you wouldn’t deny that you looked at her with heart-shaped eyes. As pretty as you thought she was, you didn’t ever talk to her, something you would eventually regret. 

Minjeong dropped out, and you didn’t run into her again. After graduation, you headed off to Seoul to learn how to fly, and soon, you realized someone else had come, too. Billboards, advertisements, you name it. For a solid month, wherever you looked, you saw her. 

The same Kim Minjeong who you nearly sacked in the hallway that night, who, instead of yelling or being upset, straightened your clothes and wished you a good night; who knew your name when you were nobody. She was Winter, now, styled with gorgeous long, blonde hair, imposed over ethereal backgrounds and colors. You had to give it to whatever company she was running with, they made that old crush of yours flare right back up again with the way they marketed that girl. Financially stable enough under an air charter company flying small private jets, you decided you’d buy a set of the group’s albums when they debuted. Sitting on the floor of your apartment, pulling the photocards and posters out of those albums, you felt the full force of the regret from your school days: if you’d only talked to her in high school, you could have her number in your phone right this minute… But you were resigned now to being a fan, and a strongly biased one. That’s all you could be. 

-

Charter piloting has benefits. Loads, surely. You’re essentially a glorified taxi driver, charging rich business people and celebrities $20k for a one hour flight from Incheon to Jeju. It’s morally wrong to allow a sucker to keep his money, right? As good as the pay, benefits, and overall experience are, the clientele… Well. Nothing you hate more than a stuck-up diva, and it’s even worse when you’re trapped in a flying metal tube with them. But you make do; the idol sightings you get on the job make all the asshole corporates worth it. From old school stars your parents might know, to drama actors and actresses, to the newest generation of idols, you welcomed a ton of each aboard, more than you could ever remember if you didn’t write it down. Unforgettable guests come along now and then; a trio of Twice members one weekend, some big-name producers behind insurmountably popular groups for a surfing trip, and the casts of award-winning shows on celebratory benders. Unforgettable loses its meaning when your secretary hands you today’s clipboard. 

“This is mine? Thought it was… Uh…” you trail off and your eyes widen. The secretary laughs behind the desk.

“I knew it! You’re her fan, right? You always talk about Aespa. And I know you have her photocard in your wallet,” she winks at you as your face fills with an embarrassingly deep blush. 

“It’s not just that, Jihye. I knew her in high school,” you say hesitantly. 

“Oh my God, it’s like a reunion!” the girl squeals. “Wait, were you cool in high school?” she laughs. 

“Uh… I don’t-” 

“Yup, I knew it,” she says matter-of-factly. “Let me guess, the lame, nerdy guy had a crush on the cool-chick future idol?”

“No! Well, I don’t know,” you say. Your mind is too busy racing to think properly. The young secretary giggles to herself as you walk to the hangar. Preflight routines are difficult to complete when your mind’s racing faster than a Blackbird. Would she recognize you? Should you say something? Nah… You’re kicking tires pretending to be busy and the door opens. The trail end of a conversation… 

“-ng is going to be your pilot. He’s a great aviator and an even better tour guide, so I’m sure he’ll be happy to show you around the island,” Jihye says. That damn secretary. 

“Hosang? I feel like I’ve known someone with- oh, hi,” Minjeong stops abruptly when Jihye walks her around the aircraft to meet you. Long, wavy, dark hair, with bangs curled and blown out to mathematical perfection. Fair, unlined skin of a small and cute face. A simple and comfortable black sweater, a modest manicure, and plain, natural eye makeup. You bow shyly and wave. 

“All good to go?” Jihye asks with the most annoying smile in the world. 

“Yep,” you answer. Jihye departs and you welcome Minjeong to get comfortable while you finish up. A strange look occupies those perfect features as you give her a quick safety brief, then turn to enter the cockpit. Before the door closes behind you, “if you need anything, let me know.” 

Why are you cold with her? Why are you nervous? You hardly smiled at her or asked what she was traveling for… Pure white clouds roll calmly underneath you. You resolve to be nice to her, even if she doesn’t recognize you, because let’s be real, it’s not her fault for not recognizing you. She meets tons of people. You’re just some not-cool kid from high school who had a crush on the cool-chick future idol. A pilot report over the radio snaps you out of it as you enter Jeju International’s airspace. Gusting winds and vertical movement, it’ll be a bumpy ride down. You reach for the intercom. 

“Hey Minjeong, forgive me if I startled you. Looking at some rough air on the way down, but we’re about 20 minutes out. I’d sit down and belt in if you aren’t already, okay? Call if there’s any issues, and think of what you’d like for dinner.” You toggle off the intercom and wonder where the hell that came from. What, Jihye said you’d be happy to show Minjeong around the island, right? So you’ll show her. Your inner autopilot (funny…) takes over and you idly nudge the yoke for your approach phases. Wheels on the ground, hangar door shut, you stand and exit the cockpit. Minjeong looks up at you sleepily, and you sit across from her on one of the bench-style seats. 

“So… dinner ideas?” you ask. Minjeong stands up and points at you groggily, shuffling towards you until her finger pokes the center of your chest. 

“You. You went to my school, didn’t you?” she says, tiredness dripping from her voice. You nod and meet her eyes. “How come you didn’t say anything?” 

“I didn’t think you’d recognize me…” you say softly, honestly. She moves her hand to your shoulder.

“Well you’re bigger, yeah, but… I recognize you. Bigger and taller. Same face,” she says. The smile can’t be kept off your face, unfortunately, and Minjeong smiles too. 

“You sound really tired. Let’s get going,” you say. After a quick post-flight and signing off with the hangar staff, you face her and say: “Gonna change really quick, then we’ll head to dinner.” You slip into the FBO restroom and drop your duffel, then slip out of your annoyingly stiff white uniform shirt. You stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment, then pull on a plain black t-shirt before swapping your slacks for black jeans. One careful ruffle of the hair later, and you’re leaving the restroom to meet Minjeong in the hallway. 

“Alright, ready.” You carry Minjeong’s luggage and she trails behind you, much like a puppy, on the way to the parking lot. The modest rent car’s parked right where the staff told you, so you open the door for Minjeong and she shoots you a confused smirk. You smile back, and hop into the driver’s seat. 

“So what’s the occasion? Family in Jeju?” you ask. 

“Honestly, I… When I get time off, I run a secret travel blog… So I take vacations, and take pictures and stuff,” she says quietly. “I dunno, it’s kind of silly.” 

“How come it’s silly? Sounds fun to me. We’ll have to go to some really cool places so you can write a good post, huh?” you reply. “Now, dinner?” 

“Mm. I’m too tired to think,” she mumbles. Great, now the pressure’s on you to pick something perfect… 

“How about Black Pork Street? Could make for some good photos, and it’s really as good as people say it is,” you say and put the car in gear. 

“Sounds good…” she trails off. Really, really sleepy. But she makes an effort to talk to you. She makes an effort to keep the focus off of herself, and more on you; she asks you how graduation was, since she didn’t go, and you really had to reach deep into your memory for that one. She asks you about flying, about why you chose it, about your life in Seoul, and about how you never ran into each other in the city. You hold yourself back from saying ‘well no, Minjeong, we haven’t run into each other in a city of 10 million people, with about 9,999,999 of those people being more interesting than me.’ When you arrive, Minjeong is lively and excited, telling you about her camera and asking what’s next after dinner. You kick yourself when you start wishing for a specific sort of dessert. Quit being dirty-minded, idiot… 

“Let’s go! I’m hungry,” Minjeong says, dragging you out of your thoughts. She looks perfect taking photos on the street, pointing her camera at the sky, at signs, storefronts, plants, street cats. The way her eyes light up when she takes a good photo, runs over to show you, insists that you take a few of her; she’s not much different than she was back then, huh? A person with a good heart. A person whose heart you’d like to learn. 

“Is it our honeymoon? First date? Must be a first date, you look nervous,” the dorky waiter says, nodding to you. Minjeong laughs, and you blush; the difference between you. 

“Uh… J-just high school friends,” you manage to say. Minjeong jots notes and snaps photos throughout the meal, and as you’re serving up some pork belly for her, she takes a few photos.

“C’mon, make it look nice,” she whines. 

“You’re serious about this, huh?” you laugh. 

“It’s… It’s my baby. My project. My travel blog is like… I dunno, it’s a way for me to be creative, but not be Winter. It’s a way to just be Minjeong,” she slowly explains. “To have a space that’s all my own. Where I can talk about stuff I like, and not worry about press, or netizens, or fans, or anti-fans.”

“I get it. A space of your own. I should call you Minjeong then, right?” you say, nodding your head a bit too fast and a bit too much. She smiles and nods. But she nods like a regular person, not like you. 

Dinner passes without incident. If we can ignore the waiter thing. Do you look like a couple or something? Maybe you do compliment each other. Maybe you seem like high school sweethearts. Maybe you could be. 

“Hosang?” she says as she leans forward. “You in there? Let’s go to the hotel!” You snap out of it for the second time and hop up to lead the way to the rent car. The paperwork Jihye gave you had most of the information listed for Minjeong’s trip, and the hotel she’d be staying in was, of course, the Lotte City Hotel. No less grandeur for the princess. The GPS gets you there quickly, and you pull up to the front doors, leaving the car on as you grab Minjeong’s suitcase. Just as you’re rounding the front of the car and waving goodnight, she makes a confused face.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” she whines. Minjeong the kid… 

“Oh, uh, yeah. I was gonna head to the motel near the airport, that’s where my room is. Did you need something else?” you say. 

God, why do I sound like a customer service bot? ‘Did you need something else?’ Seriously? 

“I… I dunno, I guess I just wanted someone to hang out with,” she replies.

Oh. To hang out? 

“Oh, of course, Minjeong. Let me park, I’ll meet you,” you say. And she’s waiting for you in the same spot once you return to the front door; she didn’t even go inside. Her long, dark hair’s ruffled by the wind. Cute. 

NO. Not cute. Not cute or pretty or hot. She’s my client, my customer, my responsibility; not my crush, my girlfriend, or my next body. Look at the ground or something, for the love of God, Hosang. 

But looking at the ground can’t keep her legs from your peripheral view. She walks through the sliding doors and you follow behind with her suitcase in your hand, and your duffel on your shoulder. Long, slender, perfect legs, and you’re looking right at them. You snap your gaze to the windows and pretend to be looking at the skyline through the windows while Minjeong checks in. After a moment, she turns to you and smiles. 

“Do you have a swimsuit?” she asks. You shake your head. “There’s shops on the bottom floors, go and find one, okay? Meet me on the sixth floor. There’s a pool! The pictures are gonna be perfect!” 

She shoves a room key into your hand and takes the bags from you. You’re left in the lobby, dumbfounded, wondering how you should navigate this. A bellhop whistles at you.

“First night with her? Sheesh,” the young man says. “Score!”

“Weird situation, man. Weird as hell,” you trail off as you walk away, still shaking your head, more so to yourself now. Okay, shops. Swimsuit. You begin to feel insecurity nagging at you. You’re lean, sure, but not perfect. Not as perfect as… Well, nevermind. Quickly, you make your way through the shops, and find a pair of rather plain, mid-length black trunks at a duty free shop, changing into them in the restroom and leaving your shirt on. The elevator ride lasts forever. And ever. And ever. Until the robotic voice announces,

Sixth floor. 

The doors open and you walk quietly out to the open area of the pool. You see one figure in the water already. She’s facing the city, hugging the edge of the pool and gazing at the skyline. The water laps at her back, just below her shoulder blades, and the silky smooth skin of her back is laid out for you, with only thin bikini straps to cover it. Her arms and shoulders are small, toned, but soft. Fancams and jacket shoots could never do justice to the sculpted angel right in front of your face. 

“How’s the temperature?” you say. She turns around. Her top is composed of white strings and back fabric; conservative, but form-fitting to her chest, that Goldilocks chest, the perfect balance of size and shape. Her collarbones are distinct, curved, beautiful. Hell, every curve you can see is perfect, from the angle of her jaw to the base of her neck to the gentle taper of her arms. 

“It’s heated,” she giggles. “Come on!” Insecurity. Nagging. Loudly. 

“Are you sure? I can just hang out and take pictures for you up here, it’s not-”

“Come onnn,” she pleads. You turn away from her and slowly drag your shirt off, then kick your shoes and socks off near where Minjeong left hers. The water is slightly warmer than room temperature, and a welcome change from the chilly air. You sit yourself down on a ledge in the pool, and Minjeong swims to your side, sitting right next to you. Not close enough to touch. 

“See? Isn’t it nice up here?” she says.

“It is. Ever been to Jeju before?” you ask.

“Nope. I think it’s even nicer with a good tour guide.” 

“Ah, come on. I’m not all that.” 

“You’re…” she trails off and sighs. Her hair tickles your shoulder when she leans into you. “I wish I’d talked to you more back then.”

“Hmm? Don’t worry about it, that’s way past us,” you mumble.

“So… If I said I wanted to make up for lost time… What would you say?” she says and you feel her fingertips smoothly run over your leg under the water. 

“I think I’d ask where that idea came from,” you say breathlessly. She moves her hand to your waist, arm around your front. 

“I always liked you. I just didn’t think you liked me, you were always so quiet,” she says. Your hand, now, meets her waist, and your eyes meet hers. 

“Is this okay? I mean… Can you do stuff like this? Now that you’re all famous and everything,” you say, struggling to form any words at all, overwhelmed by the electric sensations of skin on skin underwater. She cups your cheek with a wet hand and nods to the camera bag. 

“Can I get some pictures for the blog? Before… Before I forget,” she finishes cautiously.

Before you forget, huh… Gonna make me take an impromptu bikini shoot of one of the most beautiful women ever. No big deal. 

Minjeong disentangles from you; she tosses you a towel and you dry your hands, then power on the camera. Eyes fixed on the camera’s display screen, you start shooting. She moves through pose after pose, and you can feel yourself hardening. How could you not? A perfect, slim, pale Minjeong, body covered with water droplets, her skin shining in the flash of the camera. 

“Would you check and see if those ones are any good?” she calls to you. You begin scrolling through the photos, and sure, they’re great. It would be hard to take a bad photo of her. 

“Yeah, these are good,” you say. 

“Let’s take a few more, then we can relax a bit,” she says. The camera display switches back to photo mode, and you look through; this time, your heart stops. The screen shows you that Minjeong has shed her top, and now, the camera focuses on her bare breasts, nipples erect in the cold air, water streaming down her chest. Her hourglass shape is all the more prominent now, and you wonder how it would feel to run your hands all over her wet body. You begin to lower the camera, but she shakes her head. “These are just for me. Please?” 

“J-just for you?” you mumble, mostly to yourself. Her poses grow more erotic. She squeezes her breasts together with her arms, grabs them with her hands, and leans over for you to capture a shot of her from the side with her back arched. Now you’re definitely hard, no question about it, but at least now there’s no way she could be mad at you for it. It’s her fault. She moves towards you, and you set the camera on the ground next to the pool. 

“How’d they turn out?” she asks. Her arms reach around the back of your neck, and yours wrap around her waist. 

“You’re evil,” you say into her neck before planting a few kisses there. 

“Oh, how could you say that? It seems like you had a good time,” she says. Her hips grind forward against your cock; she wants you to know that she knows how hard she’s gotten you. “You know, to be really honest, Hosang, you’re the first guy I ever thought about while touching myself.” 

Really? 

“Why?” 

“You’re an idiot- Oh, God,” she’s interrupted by moans as you kiss further down her neck. “I just like you, okay? 

“Well I just like you, too. Always did,” you say. 

“I hope so. Otherwise this could be kind of awkward,” she giggles. You withdraw from her neck to place a kiss on her temple, and finally, on her lips. She tastes so sweet, lips so soft, tongue so aggressive. Her hand grabs onto your hair and she forces your head to turn so she can deepen the kiss. Minjeong seems hungry, desperate. You sit back on the ledge with your high school crush in your lap, her legs around your waist. She’s got both hands on your face, and she observes you like some sort of specimen. 

“What’s, uh, what’s up?” you say, eyebrows raised.

“Your face… As different as it is, it almost looks exactly the same as the face I fell for back then. And I think I’m falling for it again,” she says. You begin to speak, but she places a finger over your lips. “I know what you’re gonna say. Just don’t think about it right now. Don’t. Think. About anything.”

Between her words, she’s taking your hands in hers, and moving them to her bare chest. You swallow. Hard. She’s right. If only for tonight, for this weekend, for a week, you have to just let it go. Her breasts are soft, and she whimpers when you squeeze them. She giggles and moans through a toothy smile when you roll her nipples between your fingers. Minjeong is clay in your hands, melting under every single touch, and it’s your job to make this trip unforgettable for her, to mold her into shapes of pleasure she’s never felt before. 

“You know there’s a sauna,” she whispers through gasps.

“Good idea,” you reply. Water falls from both of your bodies when you stand up with her still wrapped around you, clinging to you like a koala bear to a tree. A quick jog from the pool to the sauna, but the wind still manages to chill you both to the bone. The sauna, though, is comfortably warm. Minjeong in your lap again, you sit on the wooden bench and she devours your neck. Her tongue and breath are hot against your skin and the steam begins to make you sweat already. She stands and takes hold of your hand, beckoning you to follow suit; you stand close to her and she looks up to meet your eyes. Small hands make their way to your waistband. 

“Can I?” she asks softly. You help her slide the trunks down your legs, and your cock springs out, painfully hard, smacking your stomach. Her hand wraps around it immediately, and she moves in to kiss you again. She moves her tongue slowly against yours and her hand works your length all the while; her delicate fingers find the precum dripping from your tip and spread it generously. Delicately, she kneels; cautiously, she licks your cock from the base to the tip before latching onto the head and giving gentle suction. She looks up at you with her deep brown eyes and you place your hands on her head. You’re gentle with her. Your fingers make their way through her hair, and you keep your hips as still as you can, so as not to overwhelm her. You feel the back of her throat suddenly, and a moan escapes your mouth briefly, before you slap your hand over it. Minjeong backs off and strokes you with her hand.

“Don’t… I want to hear you,” she says. You feel your cock twitch, and you let out a sigh. A soft moan when her strokes speed up. “Good…” 

“What if someone-”

“If someone hears? They’ll leave. Don’t worry,” she says. She gives you a few more seconds of suction, tongue massaging your head, then stands back up. You switch places with her, only now, she casually strips her bottoms off and sits on the wooden bench. Her toned thighs spread apart slowly while you stand back to take her all in. 

After all these years, there she is; imagine telling high school Hosang what’s happening right now. Forget moaning her name while I jerk off… She’s right there. 

Beads of sweat roll down your face and body. Minjeong, too; she’s covered in dewdrops of her own. Somehow you think they must look better on her than they do on you. A deep breath, and you step towards her. Her chest rises and falls rapidly under your hands when you give her pert breasts some more attention. You’re on your knees, now, watching her face contort and listening to her voice catch in her throat. If she never wore a bra again, you’d surely be happy. Kisses planted down her body, from her sternum down her stomach, halting at her hipline. You take a moment to stroke her thighs softly with your fingertips, and they shudder. More kisses for her legs, from her ankles up her calves to her inner thighs. Her sweat is salty and sweet. How will the rest of her taste? You look at her again.

"What do you like?" you ask. 

"I… I don't know."

"When you touch yourself, how do you do it?"

"That's embarrassing…"

"When you're using your hands, imagining they're mine, what do you do?"

"..." 

"Show me, so I can do it for you." Minjeong’s eyes are half-lidded, lust-laden. When you look down at her perfect, trimmed pussy, it’s dripping; your words got to her. She takes hold of your right wrist and places your hand on her stomach, thumb on her clit. 

“Slowly,” she whispers. You oblige, and slowly make circles on her clit, spreading her wetness over the sensitive nub. Her next move brings your left hand to her mouth. She sucks on your two middle fingers, taking them deeply into her mouth. Wet enough now, she moves your hand, palm up, near her pussy, and nods. “Inside.” The walls of her pussy are so hot, so scorching hot, inch after inch engulfing your fingers. One curl of your fingers and she’s cursing, moaning, bucking her hips. Poor girl must be starving. 

“Is that good for you, Minjeong?” you say. Your voice seems like it’s dropped an octave and slowed down about half a measure. It doesn’t matter; she can’t answer you, anyway. She’s busy stuttering out your name. Temptation gets the best of you and you move your thumb away. Minjeong whines, but it’s soon replaced by a near scream when your thumb is replaced by your tongue. As expected, she tastes incredible, some remnants of salt water from the pool, but overwhelmingly sweet underneath. She clenches around your fingers a bit.

“F- Oh my fucking-” Minjeong stutters. Her eyes roll back in her head. Her delicate fingers grip your hair, not so delicately. Rapid, shuddering breaths cause her toned stomach to rise and fall quickly, her arms and legs jerk, and the salty and sweet flavor floods your tongue. Unlatched from your hair, Minjeong’s hands grab your face and yank you up towards her face; as you stand, the tip of your cock grazes over her clit. 

“Whoops,” she whispers. Her lips are warm and smooth when they lock onto yours. And you feel her hand creep down your abdomen. Your attempt to break the kiss is foiled with Minjeong’s arm around the back of your head, and her other hand moves up and down your shaft. She’s devious, smiling into the kiss as you fill her mouth with moans, tightly gripping your cock and twisting her hand with her up and down motions. 

Kim Minjeong from high school is jerking me off. Kim Winter from Aespa is jerking me off. 

It’s a mindfuck. She kneads the back of your neck and sucks on your tongue. You can’t fuck her in a public sauna… Can you? 

“Minjeong…” you whisper against her cheek. She looks at you innocently. Like someone who isn’t driving you crazy. 

“What?” she giggles. 

“How about we go to your room? Could be bad if, you know, someone sees us,” you mumble. 

“How about once here, and a few more times there?” she says with a wink. “It’s late, baby… No one will come up.” 

‘Baby.’ 

Minjeong guides you towards her pussy with the hand that had never left your cock. Her legs rest on your shoulders, and you grip her pillowy soft thighs to brace yourself for impact, for entry. Her heat begins to swallow your length, quite easily due to how wet and aroused she is, and she makes the hottest noise she’s made the whole night. And now you’re hilted in Kim Minjeong in a hotel sauna with an unlocked door. Her nails scratch at your chest and shoulders frantically. 

“God, so full…” she moans. 

“You want me to fuck you now?” you put the sultry voice back on. She nods. “When you’re using your toys, imagining they’re me…” 

“Please, Hosang, just fuck me,” she pleads. “However you want. However you need.” It’s all you need to hear, certainly. You pull out nearly all the way, and watch your cock disappear inside of her with a grunt. Your thumbs nearly touch as you wrap your hands around her small waist to pull her down around your shaft with every thrust. All inhibitions are gone, any restraints have been lifted; you’re slamming into her hard, and the both of you moan loudly enough for the reception desk to hear. Minjeong’s tight abs contract and relax under your hands, you look at her face to see her drooling with her eyes rolled back. Like, actually, really drooling. 

“Fuck, babe… You’re really enjoying this, huh?” you say gruffly. You swipe your thumb over her chin and she leans down to suck on it instead. Lustful eyes meet your gaze and your thumb pops out of her lips. 

“I’ve been waiting so long,” she says. A quick sigh to punctuate her sentence. “So many years…” 

“Well-” you try to speak, but she clenches herself around you. “Fuck. I don’t think I can wait any longer than I already have-”

“Pull out baby,” she sighs. “I want to swallow you.” 

Regretfully, you withdraw from Minjeong’s tight hole, but the steam keeps your cock rather warm while she kneels down. After a lick from the base to the tip, she takes you all the way into her throat. She takes your hands and places them on her head, looking up at you sinfully. With fistfuls of her dark hair, you pull back, and thrust in again. She gags and coughs, but she never gives up, and soon, you’re shooting rope after rope, nearly convulsing in pleasure. She strokes you into her open mouth, wringing every drop out of your spent cock. When she’s satisfied, she swallows and stands up to kiss your neck and chest. 

“How about… How about we go to the room?” she says. 

“You want me to stay with you tonight?” you ask. She laughs a bit. Her laugh is fluttering and adorable, a sharp contrast with the noises she was making moments earlier.

“Of course.” 

-

After getting dressed and gathering Minjeong’s things, you head upstairs. In the elevator, you stand behind her; she grinds back onto your groin and brings your hands to her chest. Floors fly by and the number on the small screen goes up as you massage her chest and her delicate moans get you painfully hard once again. She rushes in front of you to the room, giving you another view of those creamy, toned legs, and you do your best to catch up. Once inside, she sits on the bed in front of you and waits. Her hands travel slowly from her hips to her knees, and even slower she parts them with her hands to reveal the glistening skin peeking out from her bikini. Her breath hitches when you step forward and gaze down at her. 

“I showed you what to do last time,” Minjeong whispers. “I want to see what you’ll do on your own.” 

“No pressure, right?” you joke, and she smiles. Her thighs are soft and malleable in your hands, and her neck softer under your lips. You untie the bikini top and cast it to the side, then kiss further and further down her neck. Kisses travel down her neck, over her collarbones, down to her sternum. There’s still salt from the pool on her skin, and you lick towards her nipple before giving it a bite. Minjeong jumps slightly and closes her fists in your hair. Your mouth works on one nipple and your hand kneads the other breast, perfectly sized for your hand. After switching sides once or twice, you kiss her stomach. Her hands move to your shoulders as you kneel on the floor in front of her.

Minjeong’s legs are wide open. You slide your fingers into the waistband of the swimsuit and slowly drag the bottoms down. More kisses travel from her knees across her inner thighs and up to her hip bones. She’s still dripping for you and you drag your tongue upwards over her pussy slowly to savor her. You spit on your fingers and slip them inside of her easily. 

“Ohhh my God-” she whispers and bucks her hips. “Go faster…” 

“Mm, so impatient, Minjeong,” you reply. Your tongue returns to her clit and makes smooth circles. She tenses around your fingers when you curl them back towards you, her moans growing louder, grip on your hair growing stronger. Taking her by surprise, you withdraw your fingers and stand up. While her hands work automatically on pulling your swim trunks down, you take a moment to just gaze at her. Her ruffled, semi-wet hair, strands sticking to her forehead and swaying wildly as she kisses up your thighs. Her flushed, glistening skin, cheeks inflating and deflating with the waves of pleasure coursing up your torso as your length disappears into her mouth again. Her pretty shoulders and arms. Her nose buried in your stomach.

Fuck. 

“You’re really good at that,” you moan. With a yelp Minjeong is scooped up into your arms and tossed, more or less, onto the pristine hotel bed. She pats the bed beside her, and you get the message. You lie back and let her mount you. She guides your tip to her entrance, and once in line, she slams her hips down aggressively. You’re content to let her ride. Her body moves in mesmerizing ways as she grinds on you, seeking the best angle for your cock to rub against all the right places. Just as soon as you begin thrusting into her, your phone starts ringing. 

“Dammit, sorry, Minjeong,” you curse and remove the girl from your lap. Fucking spam call? Really? With the phone silenced, you turn around to see her lying back on the pillows. 

Like an animal, you crawl towards her; you feel like one at least, with the way your cock is throbbing. She pulls her legs up for you, and you guide your tip towards her dripping center. The warm feeling envelops you again and you sigh, eyes closed. Your hands find her waist and keep her torso still while you begin to drive into her. You almost can’t even hear her whines anymore, her voice punctuated by each thrust, curses and iterations of your name following every other sound.

“-nside me,” Minjeong’s voice fades in as your stupor breaks a bit. You lean forward and make a confused expression. “Cum inside me. I want to feel you fill me…” 

And something about the way she says it just obliterates any second thoughts you may or may not have had. Her high, airy voice, begging for such an impure action, intensifies the warm, wet pleasure surrounding your cock. It only gets warmer and wetter as your cum dumps into Minjeong, deeper and deeper inside of her, coating your shaft, dribbling out onto the sheets. Your thrusts slow down, but your dick stays inside; you’re tired. You wrap your arms around her waist, and lie down gently on top of her with your face in her neck. She administers gentle scratches to your scalp. 

“You came so much, Hosang,” she whispers. Her legs settle around your back. 

“Drained all my energy,” you laugh weakly. 

“You’re heavy. Can we switch?” she says. So you do; you roll onto your back. Your cock slips out in the meantime, and you both laugh about it. She fits in your arms like she was made for them.

For a long while you lie there. The cold air condition and the crisp sheets are a welcome contrast to your steaming hot skin and the panting, sweating furnace lying on top of you. Minjeong painstakingly brings her hand to your cheek and kisses the other with soft lips. A slow blink. A thought in your mind. 

Is this what it feels like?

“What are you thinking about?” she asks. She knows. 

“How do you feel about me?” you reply. Her expression is mixed.

“How do I feel… I feel like there’s a reason we ended up on this trip together,” she answers. Her body rises as you take a deep breath. “I mean I feel like something brought us together.” 

“What do you want to do about it?” you ask. 

“I want to find out why. There must be a reason this happened, you know?” she says. A small yawn. “Like… There must be something waiting at the end of a journey we can take together to find out. Or something.” 

Together? A journey? 

“Think it might be time for you to go to sleep,” you whisper. Her baby hairs stick to your face when you kiss her temple. The sheets are smooth and cool when you pull them up over Minjeong’s body and yours. She falls asleep quickly. You don’t. You’re thinking about IFR plans and what to say to her in the morning. Your fingers trace along the smooth skin of her hips and lower back for a while. The softness is comforting. And you fall asleep. 

Is this part gonna go in the blog post? 

[itsmarsss]

Scandalous (Blitzø x Fem!Succubus!Reader x Stolas) [Helluva Boss] pt. 5 - Monster

How the mighty do fall. (Getting into a weird three-way situation with an imp and a succubus isn't exactly considered classy, Stolas)

If they’re only with him as prisoners, what kind of monster does that make him? 

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | 1st bonus | pt. 6 | pt. 7 | pt. 8 | pt. 9

Warnings: mentions of sex as usual, some depressing thoughts, slight mention of an abusive relationship (stella), you guys ready for a time jump? this happens after the season 1 finale. don't worry we'll find out what happens during that in a later chapter! a lot of the dialogue here comes straight from the show. this is all solely in stolas' pov!!

Word count: 6,005

Stolas almost wishes he’d have the guts to kick the two demons out after they were done with the… activities agreed upon.  

He almost wishes they’d see themselves out immediately after, not leaving him a single, mere second to get used to their presence. He almost wishes their talk of not staying the night weren’t so empty, the promise broken by a simple plea for them to stay. He almost wishes he’d have the willpower to refrain himself from pleading. He almost wishes they had never let him have a taste of feeling their weight on his mattress next to his own body or to their body heat keeping him warm under his fancy bedsheets, to begin with. He almost wishes they’d never let him have an insight into how a life as their lover could be like, waking up to their half-dressed bodies still lazily holding onto his in some way in the morning. 

Then again, Stolas is a hypocrite. A self-aware one at that, too. 

Because he could intervene and he could stop all of these things from happening. He could tell them they had to go. He could not ask them to stay. He could never see them again. Because he’d been the one to propose they start this complicated situation they all found themselves in and he was the only one, really, who could realistically put an end to it, given they still needed their part of the deal. Because he could have done it a long while ago, cut the problem at its roots, stopped himself from falling, never have pushed them into this, and he’s well aware of it. He never really did, though. 

He should have. 

As the months went by, the more Stolas’ feelings- real, scary, romantic feelings- grew. And, with it, the more he started to see their arrangement in a different light. Back when he didn’t care all that much, he didn’t really think it through. They wanted something of his, he wanted something from them. It seemed fair and simple in his mind at the time. 

But he cares now. And at times it makes him feel disgusting. What was he thinking, anyway, tying them to himself against their will? Sure, they agreed when they could have denied it. But then again, he held the power in all of this. He had the book and they needed it badly. They’d probably do whatever he wanted for it. 

The thought had started to make him sick.

If they’re only with him as prisoners, what kind of monster does that make him? 

He buries those thoughts and conceals those feelings whenever he sees the two, making place for the momentary happiness that comes with their visits, but it eats him alive. 

He hadn’t seen either of them in a while, ever since… what happened at Ozzie's. He’d texted both Blitzo and y/n the day after that, and, upon receiving a disappointing one-letter text in reply from the imp and a nicer, but still dry and impersonal one from the succubus, he didn’t know why he still expected more than that. 

Then again, he’d never really looked at the situation through a lens other than his own. Why should he expect anything? It wasn’t their fault that he cared about them beyond the sexual nature of their relationship when their agreement ended at that. 

The whole divorce ordeal was coming close to making him lose his mind. When he announced he wanted a divorce, he thought that would be enough. He’d even felt bad about how he did all of that in front of Stella’s friends, how he embarrassed her.

But the aftermath of it reminded him of how that’s all she used to do to him, over and over again, and now she wasn’t accepting the idea all that well, seen as she still stayed around the palace, as if nothing had changed. 

It annoyed him to no end. 

“I cannot do this anymore, I want you out. Now.”

“What do you mean… ‘out’?”

“I mean out! Out of this palace. Out of my life. We are getting the divorce.”

“How dare you? What do you think the rest of the Goetia family will think? And Andrealphus-” Stella raised her hand, surely to slap him the face. It wasn’t something she did often, but Stolas couldn’t say it had never happened before. He’d allowed it, then, deeming himself deserving of it. 

He wouldn’t allow it this time. Never again. 

Stopping her made him realize how easily he could have done it all those other times, had he had the courage to. Announcing the divorce had unknowingly been the first step he needed to find the guts to begin standing up for himself. It was scary, but it was thrilling, at the same time. “I don’t care what your arrogant brother thinks!And the only thing the Goetia family wanted from our marriage is already seventeen, so it’s over. I’m done.”

Stolas knew what he did, and he knew Stella wouldn’t forgive him for it. He could only ever hope Via could, someday, understand. Still, he supposed what was in his power now that he had done it was to not let things fall into what they were before. He couldn’t have gotten things so messy for nothing. 

He didn’t even know what to think of the fact that he just couldn’t feel bad for what he’d done. Things were falling apart, and as much as he wished all of this didn’t affect Via, he didn’t regret it, now that it was done. In fact, he was relieved. Because he couldn’t go back now.

And he was fine with not wanting to.

So no more pretending to be fine, no more putting everyone else’s wishes before his own.  

… It’s easier said than done when that’s all you’ve ever known. 

[. . .]

Stolas woke up with a headache. Fuck, it was moving day. 

Well, for Stella, that is. And she wasn’t moving, per se. She had moved out the same night he demanded that she did, but every single day after that she’d come over to the palace again, claiming to have forgotten something she so desperately needed. 

The night before, he’d had enough of it, making sure to pull whatever strings he could to have all of her things out of his home by the end of the next day. 

So he woke up early, with a pounding headache, put on his robes, and walked himself straight to the front door, not stopping to get himself breakfast as he usually did. He could already hear some commotion. Good, at least people were already there to start on getting her absurd amount of belongings. Maybe they’d be done early enough that he could enjoy the rest of the day. Honestly, all Stolas had been longing for was a peaceful day. 

It was quickly proven to him that this wasn’t going to be one of those. 

As soon as he laid his foot on the first floor, the phone started ringing, and a servant ran over to bring it to him. He let out a sigh. Stella, surely. 

He was right. 

[. . .]

The phone call was going on half an hour with no signs of ending any time soon, when Via walked in.

It was hard to properly talk to her when Stella was whining on the other side of the call, so he deemed it better to dismiss her and have a conversation when he and her mother were done yelling at each other. “Darling, can we not talk about this now? Your mother is being a real B-I-T-C-H.”

Stella yelled incoherent insults at him for that. “Well how was I supposed to know you can spell? I’ve never seen you read!”

About an hour later, only a couple minutes after finally being able to hang up the phone, it rang again. He let out a groan in annoyance. Did she ever, ever shut up? 

He picked the phone up again, ready to curse at her when a voice came through first- one that wasn’t hers.

“Heyyy, Stolas, so, your daughter came by, took your book and teleported off to who-the-fuck-knows-where and we have no way of getting either of them back. Okay? Okay, good talk. Byyee!” Blitzø blurted it all out at once before hanging up abruptly. 

What. The actual. Fuck. 

In an instant, Stolas was there, in his full demon form without having even noticed he’d changed into it, angry beyond he’s ever been at the imp. 

“BLITZ!”

“Heeeyy, Stolas,” Blitzo tried (and failed miserably) to act nonchalant, earning angry looks from his employees.

Stolas turned back into his normal self, now worried more than anything, pacing back and forth on the reception floor as he tried to assimilate the situation. “How could this happen? Do you just let anyone waltz into your office and grab infinitely powerful artifacts?” He shouted. “Why would she do this? How are we supposed to find her? Where would she go?”

Blitzo’s daughter, Loona, tried sniffing around. Was it even possible that she’d be able to smell that? Apparently, she was successful, as she announced… “Well, it reeks of urine and desperation, so-”

“L.A.?” y/n asked, interrupting her. She seemed to be hoping she was wrong.

Loona confirmed with a nod. ‘L.A.”

Stolas didn’t understand exactly how she’d managed to do that, or even why y/n knew immediately where she was talking about just from those disgusting things she’d said about the place- that place must be awful. The thought only got him more worried, come to think of it. How was Via going to deal with a place that seemed to be so terrible in a realm she’d never visited? 

Stolas tilted his head to the side. “What is this ‘L.A.’ place like?”

“It’s not that different from here. She’ll be fine, I’m sure,” y/n tried to reassure him. It didn’t work all that much. 

He grimaced in preoccupation as he conjured a portal.

Blitzø was the last to walk through it. “Alright, Loona, let’s make this quick. In and out before anyone notices we’re here.” He looked around, taking the view in. “Oh, this doesn’t look much different from Hell.”

“I told ya,” y/n tells him. 

“Alright, well, let’s get to work. Loony, sniff!”

“How am I supposed to smell anything in this city?”

“Can’t you even do one thing right?” Moxxie complained, annoyed.

“Can't you finally do something about how fat you are?” The hellhound retorted.

“I’m not!”

Blitzø joined the conversation. “You know, it wouldn't kill ya to put a salad in your body every now and then.”

“What? But I'm not fat! I’m not!”

Great. He had no idea where Via was and the people supposed to help him find her were arguing about… whatever that was.

Blitzø climbed on top of a dumpster, grabbing a megaphone from satan-knows-where and talking into it. “Now! First things first, if we’re gonna do this the old-fashioned way, we’re gonna need disguises.”

Okay, now that Stolas could do. In an instant, he morphed into his human form, as did Loona and y/n, making Millie clap, amused at their abilities. He still couldn’t fathom the fact that the other three imps didn’t have real human disguises, and apparently just walked around the human realm as they were. 

Stolas could almost swear Blitzø looked amused as well, but it only lasted a second. Maybe he’d imagined it. He didn’t dwell on it- there was no time for anything other than finding his baby. 

“No chance you could conjure us a couple of those… can ya?” Blitzø asked him.

“Sadly, no. I’m afraid without my Grimoire my powers are just a tad limited in the human world,” Stolas explained. 

Blitzø scoffed. “What, you can’t memorize your fucking spells?”

“Oh, your memory’s so great? What’s his phone number?” Stolas motioned at Moxxie.

“Fuck you.”

Stolas smiled, content that he’d gotten his point across. “Eeeeexactly.”

As they all walk out of the alley they were in, Stolas grabs himself a pair of red-tinted sunglasses that he puts on his head, where his second pair of eyes would be. Yeah, that feels better. He watches as y/n grabs a pair too- purple heart-shaped ones- and pays for both. Where she’d gotten human money he didn’t know, but he found it endearing that she would spend it on their glasses when she could have just walked out with them. 

They continue on their way- which Stolas admittedly didn't know exactly to where, when y/n stops walking, asking them to wait. She’s turned around now, talking to Millie while Moxxie talked to a funny-looking human man. 

“What’s he doing?”

Moxxie hisses at Millie as she tries to take whatever it was he was holding from him. She sighs. “Look we’ll find ya, alright? I’ll just stick around so he doesn't do anything stupid.” 

“You sure?”

“Yeah, we can handle ourselves. Right?”

“Right.” Y/n turns back around, cueing for everyone to keep walking.

“You worry too much,” Blitzø remarks.

“Oh shut the fuck up. Let’s find you something to wear.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Stolas shared a look with her. “Blitz, you’re not exactly… passing as a human right now.”

“And whose fault is that?” He jabs at Stolas. 

Y/n rolls her eyes at the comment, grabbing both demons by the hand and dragging them around until they found a shop she deemed useful. 

She grabbed some cash and gave it to Blitzø , sending him on his way inside the store, opting to wait outside. Stolas decided it would be best if he did the same. He tapped his foot nervously on the sidewalk as they waited and tilted his head to the side when Blitzø walked out the door with human clothes and gigantic costume ears to conceal his horns. Perhaps not changing would’ve brought less attention to him. 

“Now that’s disturbing,” Stolas pointed out. 

Blitzo looked like he was about to say something in return, but wasn’t able to- someone started yelling beside them. “Ahh! Look everyone! It’s Hollywood star, Brannon Ragers!”

“What?” Y/n asked no one in particular. 

“The fuck is a Brandon Rager- ohh,” Blitzø looked up behind himself, and the two demons did the same. Ohh, indeed. There it was, a billboard, huge as can be, with a guy’s- well, apparently Brannon Ragers’ face on it. The similarity between that guy and whatever was going on with Blitzo’s appearance right now was uncanny.

Stolas’ eyes widened. “Oh, dear.” If they didn’t want attention then, now things were getting so, so much worse.

A hoard of fans quickly surrounded Blitzø, to the point of almost suffocating him, as they asked for selfies or autographs or simply smothered him to the ground trying to hug him. “Millie! Where the fuck are you and your whorebag husband?” Stolas could hear him scream, but couldn’t for the life of him see him in the middle of so many people.

“Can you do something about this?” He asked y/n, unsure if either of them should even do anything. 

“I mean, technically I could wipe ‘em out but I don't think we want that, do we?”

No, definitely not. 

As the three of them tried to push their way into the crowd to get to Blitzø, someone blew a whistle, which made Loona’s ears hurt and caused everyone else to pay attention to whoever had done it- apparently, some guy with ugly glasses brandishing a diploma from ‘cinephile university’, whatever that meant. 

Satan, this place was so much more chaotic than Hell was.

It worked, though- the crowd dispersed, and Blitzø was released from someone’s grip, getting dropped face-first onto the sidewalk. Some other guy made his way over to him. “Mr. Ragers, we’ve been looking for you everywhere! You were supposed to be on set an hour ago!” As he spoke, two other guys, assumedly bodyguards, grabbed Blitzø up from the ground, holding him by his arms. 

“The fuck are you talking about?” Blitzø questioned.

“Shit, they think he’s that weirdo from the billboard,” Stolas heard y/n tell Loona.

“Your guest spot on ‘Sweetie, I’m in The House”! We’re taping tonight. Now, hurry up and get in the car.”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no, I’m not going anywhere with you, jizz biscuit,” Blitzø flipped him off. 

The guy didn’t seem bothered at all. “Very funny, Mr. Ragers. Now get in the car-” was he- was he making cat noises at him? “Come on, boy, come on,” he kept on, apparently trying to bribe him with fruit snacks, which only made everything so much more confusing. Was this Brannon Ragers guy flat-out stupid?

“Get your fucking hands off me!” Blitzø tried to release himself from the two bodyguards’ grip, but was unsuccessful, only making things worse for himself. “Loona, Stolas, y/n, a little help here?” He called out, now being forcefully dragged. His fake ears came off, but it didn't even faze anyone there. Humans are weird.

“Oh, shit,” y/n muttered. Apparently, like Stolas, she’d imagined Blitzø would have been able to get himself out of that situation, but things were going out of control now.

Stolas had to think, and fast. The crowd was going wild again, so he used his height as an advantage, the only one out of the three who could actually see over people. “Excuse me, sir, uhhhh” Shit, if they left Blitzø alone, who knew where they would take him? “I’m…. Mr. Ragers’ agent!” He found himself exclaiming. “I don’t believe you can just-” Yet another bodyguard simply grabbed him off the floor, taking him with them with no effort. That got him distracted for a second. “Oh, you are strong!” 

“No! What the fuck are you doing?” Y/n yelled after him, which was fair. He hadn’t really put much thought into what he’d done. No use thinking about it now that he and Blitzø were getting aggressively thown into the back of a van.

It only took a couple seconds for Stolas to realize what that meant- how was he going to look for Octavia from there?

“Blitz, we don’t have time for this. Via could be anywhere… She could be in danger.”

For a second, Blitzø looked worried too, until it seemed he’d had an idea. “Don’t worry, I’m on it.” He punched the window so he could stick his head out of it, looking for Loona and y/n. “You two! Go find Via! We’ll catch up soon!”

He was met with a middle finger from both of them. 

“Yeah! Way to be a team!” He yelled out, getting himself back into the van. “She’s in great hands.”

Stolas let himself smile weakly. He didn’t know if that was true, but he wanted to believe it- after all, Loona had been able to track Via up here, and y/n was sure to do the best she could. 

[. . .]

As they got to what apparently was their destination- Starstruck Studios, as it read- Blitzø was dragged around the set, barely able to keep up to what they were doing to him. They styled his fake hair, poked his eyes with something, applied heavy makeup on him- which, for some reason, did nothing to conceal his obvious red skin, and gave him a pat on the back, telling him he was ready and would be on in five. At some point during all of that, Stolas was handed what could be anywhere between 10 and 600 water bottles. 

“What? Five what? I can’t be in a sitcom.”

“Should’ve had an ego crisis before signing the contract,” the producer guy mocked him. 

Stolas took a good look at him. He looked nervous. He killed people for a living, was on the brink of getting killed every single day, and this was making him nervous. 

“I- I- I- I- I don’t even know the fucking lines, idiot!”

“Well, that’s why god invented teleprompters.” 

Stolas hardly believed teleprompter could ever be described as a creation of god’s, but sure. Blitzø looked like he was on the verge of collapsing. Stolas tried to help out. “Shouldn't he rehearse or something?”

“No can do, we’re live in 10… 9…-” They guy started counting out, and with each second that passed Blitzø seemed to spiral even more.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, I- I- I can’t do this! No, not again.” He began pacing back and forth around the room. “I- I haven’t performed since-”

Alright, time to be the level-headed one. 

Stolas walked towards him. “Blitz, if your performance on stage is half as good as it is in bed, you’ll leave them… breathless,” he cooed, satisfied at the gulp he could see the imp take when he whispered the last word, free hand running over his throat. 

But no more time for that. He pushed Blitzø towards the stage. “Now hurry up and wow them so we can get back to finding Via!” Blitzø stopped at the door in front of him, and Stolas opened it, pushing him again, this time right onto the stage. “Break a leg, darling!” 

Suddenly, the lights were on. The crowd wasn’t huge, but there was a considerable amount of people there to watch the live recording. The actor who was already sitting on the couch delivered the first line. “Well if it isn’t our neighbor, Ronney! You feel that earthquake earlier?”

Blitzø looked terrified. Oh, no. “Say something,” Stolas urged him in a whisper from behind the camera.

Someone thankfully got him the teleprompter. He looked like he was barely present as he read his line from the screen. “Oh, yeah. Yeah! That was just… my wife… rolling out of bed.”

Stolas looked at the audience, worried no one would laugh at the joke. If no one laughed at his joke Blitzø might as well collapse. He was relieved when they started laughing. Blitzø, in turn, was beyond relieved- his eyes were almost sparkling with joy. He’d made people laugh!

Granted, they might have only done so because of the big signs telling them to, but Blitzø didn’t need to know that. Whatever was going on, it seemed to put him in a much better place, as he no longer looked like he was halfway through spiraling. It granted him the courage to keep on and even improvise. 

“Yeah! Yeah, and then that bitch hit her head on the way down and shattered her skull!”

Stolas didn’t even register the crowd’s reaction this time. He’d forgotten Blitzø is a performer. He couldn’t contain a laugh. 

Blitzø went on. “There was blood everywhere. Peed her pants,” Stolas was full on giggling now, though it took him a second to realize people had only now started laughing along. How did they not find this funny? No matter. 

Why did Blitzø even kill people anyway when this is what he’s supposed to do? He’s funny and- and… Blitzø winked at him, and immediately Stolas could feel his cheeks burn, downing some of the many water bottles he was holding to cool himself down. 

Where was he? Oh, right. He was funny and interesting and charming. Why had he given up performing? Perhaps Stolas could ask him about it at a later time.

The material of the show certainly wasn’t helping much. After a while, things were getting repetitive and, frankly, boring. And Stolas could see he was definitely not the only one who thought so, as the guy on his right had left the place altogether and the one on his left had literally fallen asleep.

Was this shoot ever going to end?

Blitzø’s character was rambling to the ugly tiny dog they’d brought in about it being the fifth couch he’d ruined that year.  “You know, maybe it's time I find you a new home, one that can put up with your attitude.”

A little girl walked into the set for the first time since the scene had started. “I can take him, Mr. Ronney! I’d be happy to adopt old Ugie and give him all the attention he needs!”

The crowd let out an ‘aw’ at the scene, everyone a little more interested now. Okay, good, it sounded like the episode was coming to an end, finally.

Blitzø held on to the dog’s collar, kneeling on the floor in front of it. “Yeah… yeah, maybe you should adopt.”

Oh, no, what was going on? Blitzø looked lost in thought, an unreadable look taking over his features. It didn’t look like a good sign at all. 

 “No. No, no, no, you can’t have her!” Her? “She’s mine and I love her!” Now that didn’t seem like acting. His expression was that of worry. 

He was right back to spiraling. 

“But Mr. Ronney, you gotta let me have the puppy. You’ve just gotta!” The kid tried salvaging the scene. 

Blitzø full-on hissed at her, shoving her away. “Don’t you touch her, you little anal fissure!”

Yep, he was definitely not doing well, whatever it was that suddenly caused this. Stolas found himself stuck, debating whether he should go there and do something.

The crowd laughed at what Blitzø said, which had been good before, but it was terrible timing now. “Oh, you think this is funny, assholes? She’s not fit to be a mother! I saw her doing lines of coke in her dressing room!”

“Hey, maybe-” Stolas tried talking to the cameraman, but was interrupted by the commotion of the bodyguards from earlier trying to get to Blitzø and contain him. 

Bad idea for them, but they didn’t know that yet. 

Another actress tried, once again, to salvage the scene, which was bonkers. What was there to even salvage after this? “Now, uh, Ronney, I think maybe you should-” she tried taking the dog from him, which was clearly the wrong move here. He pushed her onto the ground, her wig even falling off in the process. 

“No! You can’t have my baby, bitch! I’ll never get rid of her!”  Oh. This was about Loona. He took out his gun, swinging it around. One of the bodyguards tried tackling him to the ground- wrong move again. Without a second to think, Blitzø shot him in the head, still holding the dog as he did so.

And then it was chaos.

 In a couple seconds, Blitzø had already shot at least four people, and many more were coming to try to stop him. 

Yeah, time to do something, Stolas. “I’m coming, Bliiitzz-” he exclaimed, tripping over himself on the way to the commotion. He tried making his way into it, excusing himself, but to no use. Grabbing the last water bottle left on him, he threw it on someone as a last attempt. 

For… some reason… it worked. He didn’t even want to know what was in this place’s water, because the moment it touched the producer guy’s skin, it started burning its way right off, which was disturbing, but also wildly convenient at the moment. In an instant, the entire set was engulfed by fire, chaos running free as people screamed and ran around aimlessly. One guy almost tripped Stolas, and the prince would certainly have fallen if Blitzø didn’t grab him by the hand, pulling him up to stand again. 

“Alright, let’s go find our daughters,” Blitzø announced. The sight was one for the books, in Stolas’ humble opinion- he stood, holding him in place, shirt quite literally ripped open and gun in his hand, looking fiercely into the distance. The fake hair was a little distracting, but oh was this working for him.

Focus, Stolas! He snapped himself right out of it as they walked out.

“So, what happened back there… it was about Loona, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” They both stayed in silence for a couple minutes, as Blitzø dragged Stolas around the streets. “Where are we going?”

“Well, where do goth teenage daughters go?” Blitzø showed him his phone screen as he tried to look for Not Topic on his maps app, but it kept suggesting to him this place called Hot Topic, which was a stupid knock-off name for a store. “If we could just find where-”

A portal appeared right in front of them, startling them both. Loona walked through it first. 

“Oh, Loona, my sweet baby girl! I’m so sorry! I’ll never replace you no matter what you-” Blitzø ran up to Loona, meaning to hug her. She wasn’t having it, literally kicking him off of her. Stolas was startled by that, not used to this kind of… affection. “You’re good,” was all she said.

“Dad, I’m so sorry,” Octavia started, looking at the ground as if embarrassed at herself. 

Stolas threw himself onto her immediately, shifting out of his human form and interrupting her with a hug. “I’m just relieved you’re okay! But what could possess you to do such a thing? You know I haven’t taught you spells like this yet.”

“I just wanted to see the stars you promised.”

“The stars?” Stolas looked around, confused. He gasped when he realized what Via meant. “Anathoths’s tears! Oh, no, my dear, sweet Via, I am so-”

Octavia was the one to interrupt him with a hug this time, holding him tight. “I know, dad. It’s okay. You’re here now.”

He smiled, holding her closer to his chest, relieved. 

“Thank you,” he told y/n, holding a hand of hers in his for a brief second, to show his gratitude was sincere. “For finding her. And keeping her safe.”

Blitzø turned to face her too. “S´ppose I should say thank you too or whatever.” He eyed the two holding hands with a weird expression, and it made them withdraw them in an instant.

“Where would the two of you be without me?” Y/n quipped, trying to lessen the awkwardness of whatever had just happened. 

“Okay, don’t flatter yourself too much now,” Blitzø feigned annoyance, but clearly tried to fight a smile. He tried to hug Loona again, but she slapped him across the face with the Grimoire. She didn’t look irritated though. Stolas realized it really was her weird way of showing affection. 

Some sort of colorful shooting stars appeared in their sight but it was as if they were coming from the ground and going through some sort of explosion when they hit the night sky. Weird. Stolas had never seen those in his books. 

It was pretty, nonetheless. 

“What the fuck is that?” Loona questioned, seemingly also enamored by them.

“My acting career,” Blitzø replied bitterly. 

“They’re called fireworks,” y/n explained to them. 

“Fireworks?” Stolas questioned, intrigued. He kept forgetting how much she knew about this realm, and he almost felt inadequate when he was reminded of it. But he’d ask more about them later. 

Now, he was watching the stars with his daughter. 

“Ooh, Look at that one! Did you see that one?” Via asked, excited, and his heart swelled. He’d live in this moment forever if he could. 

“Now, where the fuck are M&M?” Blitzø questioned, which disturbed the moment a bit, but he supposed it was a fair question. Where were the other imps all day?

“Last Mills told me they were…” y/n took out her phone, re-reading the texts sent between them, “‘singing a love-song duet for money’,” she paraphrased.

“Well that makes no sense. Hold on.” Blitzø took out his own phone, texting Millie. She replied within the second.“They’re… still at the alley, apparently.”

“I’ll conjure them a different portal,” Stolas tells them all, waving his hand and conjuring one of his own. “We should return now.”

[. . .]

Back at the palace, Stolas tried to make things seem normal. “So, was your visit to the human realm eventful, at least, sweetheart?”

“Oh, not that much. I spent the whole day trying to find some place where I could see the stars. Turns out you can't really see the stars from there.”

Stolas’ mood deflated. Via noticed. “It’s fine though. I took some cool pictures and we got to see the fireworks!”

“I am really sorry I missed Anathoth’s tears, my sweet Via. I really am.”

“I know you are. I talked to Loona. And Y/n.”

“Whatever about?”

“Well they said you’re not perfect. And you fuck up sometimes. Which is true. But they also said you’re trying, and you’re making an effort. And I can see that now. That’s good for me.”

Stolas couldn’t find his words for a couple of seconds. “...I’m glad it is, darling.”

“I like her.”

“Who?”

“Y/n. As much as I don't like that you… you know. She’s not that bad, I guess.”

“And Blitzø?”

“Don’t push it, dad. That’s all you’re getting from me. I’m gonna go to bed now, alright?” She walked over to him, kissing his cheek. “G´night, dad!”

“Goodnight, Octavia.”

As soon as she was out of sight, he broke down. 

How awful of him, to be so absorbed in his own chaotic life that he didn’t remember, didn’t notice. 

What kind of father was he? 

Was he really the kind to let his daughter think that him fucking up all the time was okay? That it was enough because he was trying? 

Stolas wished to be a father who was there. Who didn’t fuck up. A father who remembered important things and didn’t dismiss his own daughter when she was trying to talk to him about them. A father who didn’t ever have to worry about her being in danger because he paid attention, and prevented her from getting herself into dangerous situations. 

Amidst his own drama, he’d forgotten to be a father altogether. 

How selfish. How awful. How disgusting.

Perhaps whatever it is he had with the two demons did have to end, he reflected. At least in the way it currently stood. 

He had obligations more important than spending his time worrying about whether his feelings were requited, analyzing their behavior for a sliver of hope, tending to their times of need. 

He’d had the time to think of himself, but it seemed he couldn’t trust himself to do so without forgetting to think of others all around. 

And now it was time to think about Octavia. 

He had to be a parent, and if he was unable to do it right while his life was a mess, then he was solving that mess altogether.

He’d deal with the consequences later, and if it shattered him, then so be it. 

[. . .]

Stolas tapped his foot on the floor as he waited, catching himself inspecting the feathers in his forearm and trying to resist the urge to  try and pluck some, more to not make a mess out of the room than to stop the harm of it. For better or for worse, the bandage around his unhealed arm made it impossible to do it without causing excruciating pain. 

The huge door was pulled open in front of him, and he stood up from the couch in the waiting room. 

“Stolas!” Amodeus called, opening his arms to greet him. “Hey there, birdy babe. Haven’t seen you since you crashed my club.” Stolas grimaced at the memory, following the Sin into his office. “How you been?” Ozzie closed the door behind them, leading him inside. He let out a laugh. “Still getting your kink on with my girl and that feisty imp?” 

This was going to be uncomfortable. Stolas let out a nervous laugh, trying to calm himself down before he can get to what he wants to say. 

But he’s doing this. He’s giving them the crystal and setting them free. Free to make a choice, whatever that choice ends up being. 

Stolas almost hopes they will choose him. No, he fully does.

But that’s not his call to make.

Yeah, he’s doing this.

“Well, um, that’s actually what I’m here about.”

A/N:  first bonus chapter comes tomorrow or the day after that! look out for it it has a little hint of something we'll find out in a later chapter <3 i hope you guys like this one, i'm a little self-conscious abt it but it's exactly what i intended it to be so.

[notjustjavierpena]

Reunion - Part II: Clamp

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This started out as a collection of a few requests. Then it became feely instead. Then a second chapter to Reunion. Read the first part here.

Summary: Homemade nipple clamps, toast for breakfast and a sudden confession. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dad’s best friend joel miller, daddy kink, innocence kink to some extent, homemade nipple clamps, nipple play, PIV sex, rough sex, dirty talk, possessive sex, reader has post-sex feelings, joel does too. 

Word count: 3.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49869355/chapters/125892349

Clamp

Joel’s stomach growls loudly underneath you as you are cuddling in bed. He tries to deny it when you start fussing, but the way the noise repeats itself, traveling all the way up to your ear as you rest your head on his chest, makes him capitulate quickly. You get out from underneath the covers.

“Come on, I’m hungry but…” he says with a tinge of the stubbornness of a teenager as if eating is only an inconvenience and not a way of staying alive as well as healthy. He’d go hungry to touch you, and it’s almost sweet but you’d rather feed and hydrate him so he can go again sooner. 

You can feel it as he watches your ass when you move to the dresser in his room. There are a few pieces of clothing sticking out, and you yank at what you correctly assume is a t-shirt. Pulling it over your head, you are encapsulated in the smell of Joel’s fabric softener, a hint of his cologne too that doesn’t seem to want to come out completely. 

“I’m going to make some toast,” you say just as stubbornly, bending over to tie your hair up in a messy bun despite knowing you are not wearing any underwear. Joel groans behind you. 

“Ain’t playin’ fair,” he mutters bitterly, “Look at you. No panties and my shirt? Diabolical.”

You hear shuffling behind you but you actively ignore the footsteps coming up behind you. Instead, you secure a few stray hairs with the hairpins that you took out last night, trying to look busy when hands settle on your hips. 

“Turn around,” he tells you. You smile to yourself. 

With a few seconds delay, he adds a threatening ‘young lady’. You put on a pout and then face him, “Just wanna feed you, Daddy. Look at you. You’re already skin and bone.”

“Wouldn’t hurt,” he argues.

You shake your head, allow him to kiss you longingly for a little bit, “No, I like your tummy. You’re soft. Like you soft.” 

“Soft,” he repeats with a scoff, “I ain’t soft.”

And then, “And I always get what I want.”

Suddenly, his hands reach up to find the hairpins at the back of your head. He pulls one out, makes you furrow your brows as it tugs a little at the sensitive baby hairs there. 

“Ow, what are you doing?” You ask as he removes the second one. He holds them in his large palm, big enough to hide them completely from view. 

“Do you trust me?” He questions. He looks into your eyes expectantly, waiting for confirmation before he continues. You nod. He doesn’t go on.

“I mean yes,” you quickly add.

“Good girl,” he smiles at how well you are learning. Then he reaches for the bottom of his shirt that you are wearing, pinching the hem with his thumb and forefinger now that he has the pins in his palm. He yanks the shirt up until it rests above your breasts, “Hold this up f’me.”

You do as he says. The fabric skimming over your chest and the anticipation that is hanging in the air has made your nipples hard, standing in peaks and waiting for what is about to happen. You know exactly where this is going yet it still hits you when one of the pins clamp down on your sensitive nipple. 

You half-moan in beautiful pain, half-chuckle in surprise. It stings and pinches, but despite never having done this before, your body reacts a whole lot more by pulsing between your legs than by triggering your fight-or-flight response. 

Joel studies your face but you don’t give him any indication that you want to stop. He tugs a little on the pin to make sure it is secure and elicits a little sound from you. You’ve noticed his boxers are already starting to tent. 

“Next one,” he informs as if performing a mediocre task, his voice having dropped an octave. He sounds breathier, aroused. You don’t jump half as much when your other nipple is painfully pinched too, but the feeling of them burning together is so intense that slick has started to smear your inner thighs. 

“Now,” he yanks your shirt down, makes your arms fall to your sides and your toes curl as a pin nearly catches in the fabric, “Go make me some toast. See if you still think I’m soft then.”

“But…” you try. 

“Go on,” he says and crawls back into bed before you can play dirty and touch him on the front of his underwear. 

*

Making breakfast has never been harder. 

You are in a world of hellish lust as you enter the bedroom again, holding a plate with buttered toast in your hands. There is a slice for you too, but it’ll take a whole lot longer for you to eat your way through it than it will take Joel to wolf down his own two pieces. 

He sits on the bed in silence, chewing quietly and occasionally brushing a few crumbs off the top of his chest. You hope that he doesn’t see the way you try to rock down on the foot you have tucked underneath yourself because he’d laugh straight into your face. 

“Don’t start without me.”

You sit up straight at being called out and the shirt tugs at your tits. You hiss loudly, “Please.”

“In a moment, just gotta get clean first. Sit against the headboard, ‘n take off your shirt,” he leaves the bed to go wash his hands. He is painfully hard at this point. You nearly break the plate when you move to place it on the nightstand. 

“What’re ya doin’?” He calls over the tap running from the master bathroom. 

“Not getting fucked,” you quip. 

“Watch it,” he replies back as if unaffected. God, he is so much better at this than you.

You are completely naked as he reenters the bedroom. You’ve stuffed a pillow behind your back, halfway to lying down with your ass scooted downwards on the bed a little. Your pussy is flushed pink and glistening, presented, and your nipples are a good amount of shades darker from the blood flow having settled there. The burn is exquisite, but it’s the sight of Joel’s eyes going dark that makes you whine.

“Jesus,” he laughs quietly as he crawls between your legs. Even the weight of him on the bed makes a sound slip from your mouth, “Ain’t ya just an obedient little thing?” 

You blink up at him almost teary-eyed. He takes pity on you. 

“Let’s get these off,” he promises, kneeling to free his hands from having to support himself. He removes one homemade clamp, making you whimper in relief at the ceiling. The blood flow makes your heart pound, slamming painfully against your ribs whilst you anticipate the second clamp being removed.

Joel flicks your abused nipple instead. Your head snaps down to his grin, betrayal visible on your face. Your cunt reacts immediately, feeling too empty and fluttering as it tries sucking in something that isn’t there. 

Joel looks down between your legs. He smiles affectionately, creating an obscene contrast to what he is doing to you. He coos softly at your facial expression, it having turned pained and horny, “Shh… I’ll kiss it better, baby.”

He finally removes the second hairpin. There’s a second where he lets you cry weakly at the new sensation, but then he tugs at both of your nipples to the point where you don’t even have the brain power to say a sound. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan.

“Good,” he praises, relenting but only to rub the sensitive nubs with his thumbs in clockwise motions, “Don’t think about anything. Just think about this, princess. Feel good?”

It does. You nod. The gentleness behind the touches is soothing you more than you thought it could, the pads of Joel’s fingers bringing your heartbeat down a notch. He traces your areola, breathing a little more erratically at seeing your pussy jump without being touched. 

He tugs again, soothes again until your nipples are red and swollen underneath his fingertips. The clamps have done a number on you because you start to think you might be able to come like this, a growing pressure starting between your legs. 

But Joel isn’t going to let you. He straightens until he is upright again, swallowing thickly as he focuses his attention on your neglected cunt. He runs a warm hand down over your mound, your hips twitching in response to finally being touched. Joel’s breath hitches in his throat as he stares down at his shiny palm, “Why didn’t you say anything? Look at her. She’s weepin’.”

“Just needs you,” your doe-eyes are on full blast. 

“Mhm,” he agrees, lazily running two fingers through your slick folds until you sigh, “You took a lot last night. Think you can handle it?” 

“Want you to keep me sore, Daddy,” you push into his touch again. He swears under his breath, teasingly dipping his digits into your cunt but making no suggestion that he will follow through on what they’re doing. You bat your eyelashes, “Please.”

It does not take much more convincing. He calls you princess again but this time it is with a frustrated sigh. He yanks his boxers down over his hips to let his cock spring free, kicks his underwear all the way off, and lets them fall to the floor of the bedroom in record time. 

He is fully erect. Hard and beautiful. The head of his dick has turned a dark red from having been seeking your attentive touch since he watched you put up your hair. The tip impatiently weeps precome for you. You consider a blowjob for half a second because your mouth waters at the idea of tasting his salt and musk. 

Later, you think, some other time. 

He strokes himself a few times until the bead at the head spills down over the length of him. Your eyes never leave his cock, especially not when he slides it through your glistening folds to coat himself in your arousal. 

“Could come just like this,” you tell him and finally dare to look up into his eyes. He smiles back at you and it tugs at your heartstrings. You reach out to hold his elbows and lift your legs to wrap them around his waist. 

In one smooth motion, he positions himself and rocks into you without stopping until he has bottomed out. The girth of him never ceases to amaze you. It’s the same each time; he stretches your walls painfully until you whimper and tells you that big girls can take it. Ain’t you a big girl? You nod with your bottom lip between your teeth, chewing on it to suppress the pathetic little noise that’s bubbling up in your chest. 

It works for a moment but only until Joel tells you to breathe. The noise finally comes out and it becomes wanton when he starts fucking into you. He pounds you like yesterday and you can barely contain yourself anymore, whining and groaning as he gives it to you with the intention of making you sore all over. Your walls are already sensitive, and you hate to think that you haven’t actually been out of your state of arousal since you knocked on his door. It’s embarrassing. It’s infatuation. 

You let out a high-pitched squeak as he bucks up his hips, nudging at the front of your walls and searching for that little spot inside you that belongs to him by now. He finds it expertly, fits inside of you like you were made for each other. 

“There!” You plea whilst arching your back, “Daddy, it’s right—“

“I know where it fuckin’ is,” he leans down to kiss you, breaths coming out through his nose as he shoves his tongue into your mouth. You dig your nails into the back of his arms, making an attempt to move with him and oh God, you kiss him so deeply. 

“Say I’m the best you’ve ever had,” he growls when he pulls back for a breath that he can barely catch, sweat threatening to drip down from his brow. He has one hand on the headboard, making the bed rattle underneath the both of you, and the other lays over your heart. He applies just the slightest pressure to your chest. 

“You’re— baby, please,” you can barely find the words, gasping out into the room. The only thing you can think of is how important it feels to hold onto him as he drives into your cunt, scared that if you let go you’ll melt into the mattress and never see him again. You never want that to happen. You want to drown in everything he is. 

“Say it,” he gives you a particularly hard thrust, managing to put the hand on the headboard behind your head before you bang it into the wood. You don’t even think you would have noticed it if it had happened since you are so delirious already from being so fucked out. 

“Best— best I’ve ever had,” you stutter out between loud moans, the pleasurable tightening in your belly soon reaching a crescendo, “I’m close, oh f— I’m so close.”

“Careful, princess,” he notes as you almost swear at him, “Don’t make— shit, don’t give me a reason to stop.”

He wouldn’t, you think, he is as lost in you as you are in him. 

“Never,” you pant, noises climbing in pitch, “I’m gonna be so good for you, Daddy. Gonna come— oh God, please, gonna come on your cock!”

“Yeah,” his thighs flex, your legs squeeze harder around him, “Oh fuuuck, I can feel you— come on my dick, sweetheart. You can do it.” 

The tightening releases into sweet clenches. Your vision blanks for just a moment, your brain unable to focus on any other of your five senses except touch, and Joel touches you deep inside as his hips stutter and your walls milk everything he has to give. 

He fucks you through it, bucks his hips upwards to prod at your g-spot whilst you shiver and moan from the heat of your climax. It may be even more intense than yesterday despite how many highs he pulled from you. 

Everything stills. Time passes while you pant. The windows must be foggy by now. Joel slips out with a soft groan and kisses away the pained moan you let out when emptiness hits.

You are sure you are experiencing heat stroke as you try catching your breath. There are small beads of sweat scattered all over your chest and stomach, some collecting in the dip of your belly button. You feel like you are floating in the Sunday afternoon silence. A bird chirps outside of the window, and you catch yourself wondering why you haven’t heard it until now. He is too important, you think, so important that you filter out anything that isn’t him until he leaves you in this state of clarity. You love him.

Joel is staring down at you and you can see yourself in the reflection of his brown eyes. He glows just like you, filled to the brim with dopamine. His skin burns as you rub his arms where you have been digging your nails into them moments before. You wonder if he feels the same as you; like someone who is seconds from evaporating, bursting, something, unable to move, in love. 

You pull him down into yourself. He sticks to you in a way that would normally have you scrunching up your nose, but you don’t care about it right now because his cheek is pressed to yours. You giggle softly with post-orgasmic excitement. 

But then a thought reluctantly worms its way into your head. Why isn’t he saying something? You know why you aren’t, but why isn’t he? 

“Joel,” you say in confusion as he suddenly starts to break free from your embrace. He moves to sit up next to you, eyes the plate on the nightstand, and practically launches himself up from the bed so he can take it to the kitchen. 

You crawl across the bed without thinking as if you have the speed to catch his wrist before he is out the door, “Joel. Fuck, Joel!”

That catches his attention. Joel turns in the doorway. He sets the plate down on his dresser instead, “You know I fuckin’ hate that.”

“Well shit,” you continue and he visibly flinches. 

“Don’t say anything,” you don’t think you have ever warned him as he repeatedly does with you, “Don’t say anything, just come here.” 

You hold out your hands, still on your knees at the edge of the bed. You grab at the air, and after a brief pause, Joel gives in. He steps forward until you can hold onto his wrists, “Remember that time you wiped away my tears? The first time we… doesn’t matter. Point is I was sad and you were there.”

Joel avoids replying. He swallows thickly, jaw muscles tensing. 

“I just mean that you can talk to me,” you finish your speech which is barely a speech with a beating heart. There are so many butterflies in your stomach that they are making you slightly nauseous. You look at him expectantly, watching his eyes skim over your face, scanning for what you assume is genuineness. You won’t ask why he needs reassurance that you are telling him the truth. 

“I’m falling for you,” he breathes out. 

Of all things, you do not expect this. 

“Ditto,” you say back, eyes widening when you realize that it’s the word you have managed to blurt out. 

“Ditto?” Joel furrows his brow. 

You slap his arm, “Shut it. You know what ditto means.”

But then he bursts out laughing and your heart swells. He leans down over you, naked and vulnerable right there in front of you, and kisses you gently. 

He inhales deeply afterward, then asks the question that you want an answer to as well: “What in the world are we going to do?”

*

It comes out of nowhere a few weeks later when you’re home again. 

“You know Joel?” Your dad asks as if you have never noticed him in the many years he’s been your father’s best friend. You try not to freeze. 

“Yes, I obviously know Mr. Miller, Dad. What about him?” You sip your coffee, eyeing the crossword on the back of the newspaper that your father is holding up in front of himself. 

“Think he’s seein’ some new lady,” he replies but there’s no tone to his voice. 

You tense in your seat, setting down your mug to avoid dropping it if the news is about to break, “Why do you think that?”

“Don’t matter why, but she’s good for him, I can tell,” your father is still oblivious, “Just smiles more.”

“Ah, well good for him,” you pause briefly, “Can I get the crossword puzzle?”

“Sure, honey.”

As he rustles the paper to pull out the page, you stand with the excuse of getting a pen, but when you have your back to your father, you grin to yourself and don’t mind the butterflies that seem to have moved into your body.

Joel is right. 

What in the world are you going to do?

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[writeforfandoms]

Born for Greatness: Bonus 1

Find the series masterlist 

Okay here is the first bonus chapter! No reader here, not really. Just Price and Logan. 

Warnings: Swearing, shifter behavior, world building. 

Word count: 1k

Logan tucked his hands into his pockets as he surveyed the alpha before him. Captain John Price. He was clearly respected by his pack - even Logan’s kid liked him. At least, from what Logan had seen. 

“Is this the part where you ask after my intentions?” Price sounded faintly amused, though there was still a bit of tension in his shoulders. 

“Nah. Kid’s old enough to make her own decisions. ‘Sides, she out-stubborns me.” Logan smirked. If nothing else, that would be entertaining. For him. 

Price leaned back a little. “Then what can I do for you?” 

Logan was quiet for a few long moments, observing the other shifter. He was bigger than Logan (not that that was unusual) and broad. Strong. Clearly experienced, to have the position he held. Respected. 

Really, his kid could do worse. Much worse. 

“Show me ‘round.” Logan tipped his chin with a little smirk. Skipping the pleasantries and going straight for the meat of the conversation was something he did quite often now. In this case, that meant skipping the intentions talk and going straight to a little challenge to prove Price could provide for her. 

It was bound to come up eventually. Logan was just speeding things along. He didn’t have all the time in the world, after all. 

Price blinked but didn’t deny him. “Very well.” He led the way, glancing back only once. 

Logan had seen his fair share of bases in his time. Had spent a lot of time on various bases. It was easy for him to see that this one was well-run and well-supplied. Both points in Price’s favor. 

But it was still a base. Which was a point against him. His girl deserved the world, after all. 

This place might suffice. Maybe. 

The two paused out by a pond, away from the main activity of the base. Not a bad spot, really. Far enough away to have some privacy, still on base so it was protected. Not bad at all. 

“Any objections so far?” Price glanced at him, keeping calm. 

Logan had to admit he was a little (teeny tiny) bit impressed. 

“Nah. Still not me you have to convince.” Logan smirked

Price was quiet for a few moments. “Do you anticipate her having objections?”

“Yes, but not the kind you’re thinking of.” Logan rocked back on his heels, frowning at the water. “Can’t tell you all of it. Not mine to tell. But her life hasn’t always been cushy.” 

Price nodded slowly, arms crossing over his chest. “If she agrees…?” 

Logan huffed softly. “Won’t say you’re the first to try,” he said slowly, watching out of the corner of his eyes as Price tensed. “But. If she agrees. She’s still my kid.”

“Wouldn’t dream of keeping her away from you. You’ll be free to visit, preferably with warning.” Price slanted a look at Logan, who merely smirked. 

“Fair ‘nough. Your jobs?”

“Won’t be a problem. She will not be coming with us anywhere dangerous.” Price’s jaw tightened. 

Logan chuckled. “And her job?” 

“She’s free to do as she wishes.” Price shrugged. “I’m sure we can arrange to make things coincide, if she decides she’d like to continue traveling.” 

Interesting. He’d put more thought into this than Logan had anticipated. 

“Sounds like you’re determined.” Logan smirked. “You’ll need that.” 

Price snorted softly and started walking again, a little slower this time, more leisurely. Logan kept pace easily. 

“There are some things you should know,” Logan said slowly. “That I can’t tell you.” 

Price eyed him. “Sounds like you’ve got a plan in mind.”

“Less a plan, more bullying.” Logan shrugged. “Kid needs some tossing out of her own head, sometimes.” 

“What are you going to do?” Price sounded a little wary. Which… Okay, fair. 

“Throw her in the pond.” 

Price didn’t object immediately, which raised Logan’s opinion of him. “None of us will help if she tries to murder you.”

Logan tipped his head back and laughed. “That’s the only way I want to go out,” he agreed, grinning. “Fuckin’ kid has tried before. Stayed with me for two weeks when she was seventeen. Honestly still surprised we both survived that.”

Price’s lips twitched. “Was she a terror?”

“Little hellion,” Logan agreed. “Didn’t help I had no idea how to care for a teenager.”

“You know her parents?” 

And there it was. Logan shook his head. “Nah. She doesn’t, either.” 

Price caught on almost immediately, something sad in the tilt of his lips, even as he nodded his understanding. 

“I’ll send you some pictures after I get back home,” Logan offered. A silent peace offering, a show of approval. “Don’t have any baby pictures to taunt her with, but teenage ones will have t’do.” 

Price chuckled. “I’m sure Soap and Gaz will make the most of those,” he agreed dryly. 

“Seem like good kids,” Logan agreed. 

“Some of the best.” The pride in Price’s voice was clear. Logan approved. “Even when they are right pains in my arse.”

Logan snickered. “Kids,” he agreed with absolutely fake sympathy. 

Another few minutes passed in quiet as they continued their tour, which had turned into a patrol of the perimeter. Not that Logan minded - sometimes this was easier. Besides, he’d already been on base a few days and knew his way around. This walk wasn’t so much about the actual tour as it was getting to know Price better, to see if he’d be a decent match for his girl. 

“Not lookin’ to expand your pack, are you?” Logan eyed Price curiously. 

“No.” The answer was short and solid.

“Hm.” Logan waited. He could be patient. 

“You’re not…?” Price glanced at him finally. 

“Me? Nah. I’m good on my own.” Logan reached up to scratch his chin. “But I keep my ear to the ground. Just in case.” 

Price grunted. “If there’s someone with nowhere else to go, and you recommend them, I’d consider it.” 

“Good.” 

Logan paused by the outdoor obstacle course. Nobody else was using it. This could be fun. “Care to take a run through?” He jerked his thumb at the obstacle course. 

Price eyed him. “Stakes?” 

“Bottle of whiskey.” Logan smirked. 

“You’re on.” 

The two trudged back inside much later, both of them pleasantly tired, chuckling together like old friends. 

Logan knew his kid hadn’t made up her mind yet, but he had a good feeling about this pack. Maybe he’d give her a little nudge in the right direction.

[monstrouslydelicious]

one more bit of At Least Out Loud, this time after the living armor discovery

Just rescue Falin and get back to the surface. Rescue Falin, get back to the surface, and you can go your separate ways. No one ever has to know about this, Chilchuck thought, gritting his teeth to keep a dumb grin from spreading across his face. Laios was being absurdly attractive again and it wasn't fair. His excitement over discovering living armor was actually living shouldn't be as cute as it was.

“You see that? How when he talks about monsters he gets crazy eyes? It creeps me out,” Chilchuck muttered to Marcille instead. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to suppress unwise emotions around Laios, so he was well practiced in saying the exact opposite of how he felt.

Although it’s never been quite this hard before - he is stupidly adorable like this.

So adorable, in fact, that Chilchuck almost missed Laios asking Senshi about eating the slimy little armor creatures. He would have missed it if not for Marcille’s screech of protest and yank on his arm to drag the armor he was holding toward Laios’ face. At that point, his own self-preservation instincts drowned out any lingering thoughts of Laios’ appeal, and he joined her in yelling about not eating something they knew virtually nothing about.

But then Senshi agreed to try cooking them, and Chilchuck sighed. They might as well just drop it. There was no stopping those two now, and Marcille’s continued objections seemed like a waste of energy. Even when she suggested the living armor might be poisonous, Laios’ confidence that anything that poisonous wouldn’t need to hide itself seemed logical enough. And he’s not usually wrong when it comes to monsters, Chilchuck thought begrudgingly, I guess I’ll just eat whatever seems the least disgusting - after he tries it first, of course.

While the other three picked apart the pieces of armor, Chilchuck got a fire started, then sat back and watched as Senshi decided different ways to cook the creatures. They are starting to smell really good, he admitted to himself, feeling his stomach rumble at the enticing aroma of the cooking mollusks.

But Chilchuck Tims was nothing if not a half-foot of conviction, so when Senshi declared everything finished, he narrowed his eyes at Laios and insisted he try it first. The other two agreed and waited to see what would happen. Chilchuck could feel a little worry gnawing at his heart. Instead of acknowledging that, even to himself, he muttered, “We leave his corpse if he dies, okay?”

And yet, when Laios dropped the piece of armor-shell he was holding, Chilchuck had a moment of intense terror. Was it actually poisonous? What if he dies - Marcille isn’t good at resurrection magic, that was always Falin’s job. No, no -

Laios’ shouting about how delicious it was shook those thoughts from his head and he nearly sagged with relief.

Then Senshi was trying his portion and suddenly, Laios was asking him and Marcille how theirs tasted. Taking a tentative bite, Chilchuck chewed thoughtfully. Laios is right, this is pretty tasty. Not that he was going to actually acknowledge that when Marcille asked, downplaying his opinion. No sense letting this go to his head.

Later, as they cleaned and packed up, Senshi remarked, “In all my years of eating monsters in this here dungeon, I never would have dreamed I’d eat critters like those.”

“I doubt anyone dreamed Living Armor was a type of shellfish, a weird type born from an egg case,” Chilchuck answered, knowing full well he was leaving an opening for Laios to start rambling again - and doing it anyway.

The tall-man didn’t disappoint and he started thinking through the life cycle of Living Armor out loud. Oh, he’s getting a little weird with it again, Chilchuck thought as Laios excitedly theorized that armor holding hands might actually be a mating ritual for the creatures. And yet, he couldn’t deny the dreamy, besotted look he was actively attempting to resist.

[yearninginpages]

Modern! Aemond is probably the most irresistible man you’ve ever seen.

Though he’s lost his eye due to a childhood accident, it has not made him any less of a gentleman and a mysterious one at that.

He only spoke when he was meant to, only for the enrichment of his studies, which he took extremely seriously.

Unlike Aegon, his older brother who loved to boast about his frat, and the fact that he had a yacht a bit too much for any closeness to bloom between you.

You liked Aemond, but not enough to follow his every step. Well, in reality it was just hard balancing being on top of your class, and have a crush in your early twenties.

Still, the mysterious Political Science major involved himself in various clubs and activities hosted by the University. It was impossible not to bump into him, because you were part of many of them as well.

It was at one of these club meeting, more specifically, chess, that you finally got a moment to speak with the man you secretly admired in every possible way.

He politely introduced himself and shook your hand, a small smile in his face that you’d never seen before. One that almost distracted you from the fact that he was now your rival. You introduced yourself as well, way too nervous to say anything else.

When the match started, he showed you no mercy, almost underestimating you. Still, you stood your ground, and for what seemed like the longest time, you actually won.

He seemed a bit shocked. To be fair, he’d been champion for years. Yet you still wouldn’t fear any opponent, not even your bachelors degree level crush.

He seemed charmed by the way you smiled politely, and simply collected your things and walked away. You were shaking too much to do anything else tbh.

He didn’t even get a boastful comment, or any other way to hear your voice other than when you introduced yourself. But he knew exactly who you were.

He’s not really too fond of pursuing people, much less dating, but he wanted to get to know you at least.

He caught up with you days later in your shared Math class. He never spoke in that class, and neither did you, it was always just timeless rambles from your professor.

Coincidentally, you had presentations that same week, you each had to explain the importance of Math in your certain field of expertise.

You killed it, yet again.

Aemond was trying to catch up, while it seemed that you were effortlessly just so good at the things he considered himself the best at.

He was beginning to grow impatient to uncover this mystery of who you were. But he’d never ask Aegon for help, he would never shut up about it.

Until he saw you with Helaena! His sweet sister was your friend, and you seemed to be emitting giggles from the upperclassman as you chatted about trivial things under the school gardens.

Aemond’s intrigue was killing him now. Who the hell were you? And why had he never seen you the way he did now?

He knew the answer was plain and simple, he had seen you, and watched you all throughout the beginning of your careers, but he never spoke to you. He always found it easy to be busy with other things to think about interpersonal relationships.

So why is he so desperate to know you?

You began to feel the way he stared at you. How he began to walk up to Helaena when she was with you because he lost his house keys.

Until Helaena got tired of being the awkward third wheel and decided to help him get with you and stop the charades.

He denied the simp allegations ❗️

But even Aegon backed up Helaena on this, it was growing pathetic and he didn’t even have a clue of half the plot going on.

Helaena asked if she could set you up with a “blind date” (she’s wrong as hell for that one)

You hesitated greatly, first because you were not really into anyone at the moment and didn’t know how to tell her you liked her brother. And second because this seemed like some sort of trafficking scheme even though you knew she would never do such a thing to you.

Eventually she told you she would never set you up with anyone she wasn’t 100% sure was worthy of you, so you took the number to get it over with.

You didn’t text him until you had paced around, done your homework, paced around some more, and had a mild panic attack, so a bit after dinner!

The mystery man replied back, and you grew intrigued at his unusually good grammar even through the screen.

You talked about daily matters, topics of interests, and suddenly you got the impatience of asking him his name but he would not comply. Until you threatened to block him if it was a prank.

And then you had a second panic attack.

HELAENA HAD SET YOU UP WITH HER BROTHER. SHE KNEW OF THE WHOLE “perfectly repressed” CRUSH.

You freaked out, texting him if he knew this was you. It couldn’t be, he couldn’t have known.

He eventually comes clean and admits he wanted to get to know you, but didn’t know how to approach you, and he had no choice but to listen to Helaena.

You agreed to meet up at your favorite local coffee shop to have a chess rematch! Whooped him again and he got visibly frustrated.

“You’re so busy building up walls and protecting your pieces, that you forget I can still use my own pieces to attack you.”

Your words made him smile.

The date was genuinely so sweet. You played again, and again until you were finally both even, spoke of books, and critiqued films. It was honestly the best feeling ever to have someone that genuinely connected to you on so many topics and it was the same for him!

He walked you to your dorm respectfully, and asked when he could see you again <3

After that, the coffee spot days became walking together to math class, and giving each other rides to chess matches, even taking Helaena to her own matches to cheer for her.

Aemond had never felt so in love before, and neither had you. The attraction was obvious, and in no time he asked you to be his girlfriend <3

[fizzyginfizz]

Not Flirting At All

Happy Birthday @ginnyw-potter !!!!! Here's some fluff for your Fluff O'Clock Challenge!

He’d tell himself later it wasn’t flirting.

She had a boyfriend.

His mate Dean.

Wanker.

He’d tell himself he was just distracting his overworked, exhausted teammate during her OWL year.

She had circles under her eyes.

His best friend’s sister.

“Alright,” Harry said, reaching over and taking Ginny’s spare quill out from behind her ear. He didn’t mean to, but his finger brushed against the strand of hair that had escaped the twist in the back.

His hand flexed. He would think about how silky it had felt later. Trying to salvage the moment, he lifted a piece of her parchment from in front of her and dipped his quill into her ink. “Fair warning, I’m not as good at this as you.”

“Good at what? What are you talking about?”

“Poetry,” he scoffed. “What did you think I meant?”

“Uh, well, so many things to choose from,” Ginny mused, happily putting aside her work in favor of her preferred activity, verbal one-upmanship with a side of snark. “Quidditch, baking, pranking, hexing.”

“I’m good at hexing.”

“You’re good at dueling,” Ginny grinned. “There’s a difference.”

“Alright, game on.” He returned her grin, before snapping back to his game face. “I am going to prove I’m a better poet than you.”

A burst of a laugh escaped Ginny’s throat, husky and strong. “Not too difficult. I don’t think anyone would have called any nonsense I pen ‘good.’”

Her laugh made him want to grin again, but OWL-distracting banter was on the menu, so he shrugged instead. “Please. Stop fishing for compliments.”

“I wasn’t!”

“Oh, yes you were. As if anyone could deny the brilliance of getting their eyes compared to fresh pickled toads.”

Ginny sighed and stared up at the ceiling. “You remembered.”

“Of course I remember,” he replied, eyes still on paper. Then, he frowned, stared at her a moment, and began to write. “Her hair flames as bright as a fire crab’s bum-“

Ginny giggled and Harry’s gaze shot up from his parchment at the rare sound. Ginny Weasley laughed, Ginny Weasley chuckled, Ginny Weasley threw back her head in unabashed joy. He didn’t know whether he had ever heard her giggle.

He wanted to hear it again. “Or, should it be arse, instead of bum? ‘Her hair flames as bright as a fire crab’s arse’?”

“Are you asking me the connotative differences between arse and bum?”

“Well,” Harry shrugged. “It’s my first poem. Bum sounds like something you sit on, but arse somehow sounds flamier.”

“Also bigger, though.” She giggled again, and Harry felt like he’d won the Quidditch cup.

“Hmmm… hadn’t thought about that. You’re right. Her hair flames as bright as a fire crab’s bum.”

She leaned over to watch the words on his parchment. Her freckled nose all crinkled up in the most adorable way, her brown eyes were… the words came out of his mouth while his quill hovered over the page. “Her eyes are like melted milk chocolate.”

“Oh no,” Ginny shook her head in mock sadness. “I think you may have rhymed yourself into a corner there.”

“Oh ye of little faith.”

“Alright,” she sighed. “If you insist. I do appreciate you not picking something like mud or poo.”

“Well, I think toilet humor is overrated and there’s already something about an arse in here.”

“Bum.”

“Whatever.” He grinned at her. “You going to keep distracting me, or do you want me to finish?”

“Oh,” Ginny sat back with a relaxed smile, crossing her arms. “Sorry to interrupt your art. Do continue.”

Harry had a sudden vision, Ginny Weasley, pajamas. Mugs of steaming morning tea. Slow, “glad you’re awake” kisses.

What did she taste…

Realizing he was staring at her lips, he ripped his gaze away from her mouth. Do not write about her lips.

How soft they looked. How they had a peachy-pink rightness to them that other girls didn’t have.

Focus on something else. Something not sexy.

Except everything about her was sexy.

Except her boyfriend, he reminded himself.

She had a boyfriend.

His mate Dean.

Wanker.

His pen started scratching on the parchment furiously. “She can hurl gnomes, and write silly poems- “

“Silly?” Ginny sat up, offended.

“Did I say ‘silly’?” Harry dipped his quill back in the ink. “I meant ‘brilliant’. She can hurl gnomes, and write brilliant poems-“

“That’s much better,” she grinned. “But now you’re face-to-face with your chocolate rhyme.”

“I can do it,” he narrowed his eyes at her, competitive spirit rising.

“Sure you can,” she said, with a sarcastic eyeroll.

“Chocolate, chocolate,” he muttered, tapping his quill on the parchment. “Chocolate, gnomes, poems-“

“You’re cracking under the pressure.”

“Am not.”

“You’re crumbling.”

“From her friend, who she likes to mock a lot.”

Ginny blinked. “You’re rhyming chocolate with mock a lot?”

“It sort of rhymes.”

“No it doesn’t!” She laughed. “It doesn’t at all.”

“It does if you sort of, y’know, mush your mouth on chocolate, like you’re French, or something.” He made a funny pinching move towards his mouth and was rewarded with another ring of her laughter. “Make that oh really an ‘ooooohhhhhh.’ Choc-o-loooooot.”

“That’s reaching, Harry.”

“Well,” he shrugged, folding up the parchment. “If you don’t want it…”

“No!!!” She sprang up, reached across the table, and snatched the parchment out of his hand. “I want it! I definitely want it.”

She unfolded the parchment and stared at it a moment, her smile softening to something Harry thought was achingly beautiful. Then, she held the parchment to her chest, and grinned at him over the top of it. “Thank you. All my childhood wounds are now healed,” she said with mock self-deprecation.

“My pleasure,” Harry said softly, wishing she had more dragons for him to slay.

OWL-shaped, or otherwise.

[cocogrrrl]

Hiii! I hope your enjoying your vacay! I was wondering if you could do kinda like a best friends to lovers Kyle x fem reader :)

passenger in the rain

so what are you gonna do about your impending feelings for your best friend, kyle broflovski?

kyle broflovski x female!reader (best friends to lovers), one sided kenny x reader also no cws wc: 2720

an: thank u anon btw! have a version of this completely different but also finished version of the req! its just angstier and a little longer (it shares some of the same scenes as this one though) lmk if u guys wanna see it ^^ although i don't think its as strong lol

Lingering stares, random reminders of him, and hesitance. That’s what it feels like to be in love with your best friend, Kyle.

“So, how was I back there?” Kyle beamed, all covered in sweat in his jersey. He was practicing with his team for an upcoming basketball game, and he asked you to watch him—be his support, you know? Right now, he was on break.“Do you think the strategy was good? Was one of us doing a bit too much?”

To be honest, you were kinda just looking at Kyle the whole time, inattentive to what he or his team was doing. You were struck by the way his curly hair bounced when he’d make runs and jumps across the court and the way he still look so suave even if, god, he was sweaty.

“Kyle, I don’t think I’m the right person you should be asking these types of questions about. I really don’t know the game works.” You replied, scratching your head.

“Really? YN, we've known each other for years. Ergo, I’m pretty sure I’ve tried teaching you how it works hundreds of times already.”

“And each time, I fail to understand anything. I don’t even know the system for deductions, let alone strategizing a good game.”

“Oh, what would I do without you?”

“You’d be asking a person with proper input on your game right now.”

He clicked his tongue, nodding at your statement. “I agree. You’re very much correct for that.”

“I know I am. I am as interested in sports as you are in my hobbies.”

“And what exactly are your hobbies?”

“...Pottery?” You answered, unsure of yourself as well.

“That’s bullshit! I’m pretty sure you were, like, eleven the last time you did pottery.”

“Actually, I did pottery last week with my cousin, genius.” You said a hand pointed up in an ‘um actually’ manner as well.

“Uhuh, and who picked out the venue and activity?”

“...Them.”

“Knew it.”

You pouted, crossing your arms and giving him a light-hearted little ‘hmph!’ at him. “To be fair, I still was pretty good even after years of not doing it.”

“Mhm.” He smiled, rolling his eyes. “Anyways, gotta go. Coach’s calling. Are you down to hang out after practice?”

“Hell yeah.” You nodded.

“Alright, I think this is the last round. I’ll change after, then I’m all yours.” He said, running off to his game after.

That last part stuck with you. ‘I’m all yours.’ As fucking if. You wished it was true, though, definitely. There was no denying that, to yourself at least, you had a huge crush on your best friend. Why would he like you, though? He’s seen you at your worst. Why would anyone like you after they’ve seen that?

You were just glad to even be his best friend still. You weren’t taking the risk of ruining a gem of a friendship at this moment, though.  You were seated in the bleachers, all your focus on Kyle as he shone in the sea of players. For now, you’ll just have to be a passenger in the rain—waiting for a random train to lead you to an unknown place.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You really shouldn’t be having feelings for Kyle. Well, you could and you did, but god, did you hate it. You loathed, detested, and abhorred the feeling of falling in love with him—mainly because you hated dealing with your feelings.

It feels so embarrassing to be so head over heels for your best friend and try to cover it up as well. The “what-ifs” of what could and would happen if he found out freaked you out. Would he be cool about it? Probably not. It would be super awkward, and he’d try to play it off, but it’d be too much to bear, and you two would eventually stop being friends. That’s what you think would happen, at least.

Stupid feelings aren’t worth risking for worthwhile, maybe lifetime, happiness.

Then again, you enjoyed where you were right now—in Kyle’s bed beside him. He was completely knocked out, and his jaw was slightly agape, with the softest of snores filling the dead of the room. The sun gently shone on his face, causing him to look a lot warmer than he actually was—since his body temperature was normally cold even during the heat of the summer.

It felt almost saccharine, almost as if you were already together, if not for the fact that there was a barrier to what extent you could stay like this. Maybe you could just play pretend for a bit in moments like these. You sighed at the thought, lifting yourself from the sheets to go fix your bedhead appearance up.

When you got back after tidying yourself up, you were greeted with a disheveled-looking Kyle already awoken. He looked all groggy, with him rubbing his eyes while his poofy hair was flattened on one side. “Good morning…” He croaked out.

“Mornin’.” You tipped your head and smiled, leaning on the door frame. “You look like you slept well.”

“Sure did,” he yawned, stretching out. “What time is it?”

“I believe it is twelve-thirty PM.” You replied, checking the time of your phone. You were right. It was 12:37 PM.

“Shit, really?”

You nodded. “Why?

“I gotta pick up Ike from his friend’s place around two. He has this group project thing. Mom and Dad’s attending a friend’s wedding today, so they dropped him off earlier this morning.”

“You want someone to come along with you?” You hummed, checking your phone to see if you were busy today. To your delight, you weren’t. 

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna worry your parents or anything.” 

“Nah,” you beamed, finding yourself smiling at his worry for your parents. Despite the fact that you two have known each other for nearly forever, therefore you two were always hanging out together, he still was always worried about your parents getting upset. “I’ll just tell them that I’ll be with you for a little bit more.” You added, texting them already.

“Alright, thanks. I’ll go get ready,” he said, grabbing some clothes as he headed to the door—where you were. “Wanna kill time and get coffee later? We still got a little over an hour before we pick Ike up.”

“Definitely.” You grinned. “Can I borrow a shirt, by the way? I forgot to bring some extra clothes. I only have pajamas. I’ll re-wear my pants.”

“Oh, sure, go ahead.” He nodded, already out of the room, but his back turned to seemingly tell you something. “By the way, you left your skirt last time you stayed here. Mom washed it, I’m pretty sure. It’s in my closet, separated from the rest of my clothes.”

“Ah, alright.” You nodded. “Thanks, Kyle.” 

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You and Kyle were currently lined up in the coffee shop, Tweek Bros. Coffeehouse, actually. You were near the front of the line. Kyle, behind you, was scrolling through his phone as you patiently waited for your turn.

On the way, Kyle insisted it would be his treat—which you fought strongly against. You were embarrassed that he’d pay for something rather small like coffee. You were embarrassed whenever he’d offer to pay for anything at all. Or do anything for you, as a matter of fact. You gave up, though, and he said it was his thank you for accompanying him.

“Next!” Your schoolmate, Tweek, called out. You ushered yourself to the front of the line, Kyle right beside you as you two stood in the front.

“Oh, hello, YN, Kyle.” He greeted, flinching. You and Kyle returned a simple nod and waved to him. “What can I—Ack!—get you today?”

“I’ll have one flat white, and I think Kyle’s order is a cortado, but half the milk and replaced by almond milk instead.” You hummed, leaning closer to him to whisper something. “Lactose intolerant.” You murmured to Tweek, pointing at the boy beside you.

Leaning back, you looked at Kyle for his approval. “Am I correct?” 

“First of all, the whole world doesn’t need to know I’m lactose,” he breathed out, rolling his eyes. “Second of all, I’m surprised you know my order.” He chuckled, handing you the money.

Embarrassment crept up on your cheeks. Why did you know Kyle’s order? I mean, yeah you like him, and you’re also his best friend, but that really doesn’t mean anything! …Right?

“Duh, you’re my friend!” You replied, handing Tweek the money—after which you and Kyle walked around the cafe to find a seat.

“Do you know Wendy, Marj, or even Bebe’s order?” He raised a brow.

“Of course! It’s, uh,” you paused, trying to recall the order. “Joke. I don’t think I know.”

“Yeah? So you somehow know my order?”

“Well, it’s because I spend my time with you the most. I’m bound to know your order.” You said, motioning to a table with two free seats by the window. You two sat down.

“Uhuh,” he replied sarcastically. “And you haven’t been following me around when I get coffee in the morning—”

“—Before 7:30, so there’s still extra time.” You both said at the same time.

“Yeah, actually, I think the reason why I know your order is because you’ve said it a good few times for me to remember it as a part of your morning schedule.”

“That would make sense, but I don’t think I’ve ever told you my morning schedule.”

“What?”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Still in the coffee shop, just many moments later, Kyle spoke up. “So, how are you and Kenny?” Kyle asked, scrolling through his phone as he took a sip from his drink.

Kenny is someone you used to like. You used to like him a month ago. God, you would’ve given a world to him, but nothing ever really came of you two. Talking stage, then nothing more. When you realized your feelings for Kyle a couple of weeks ago, everything changed. It’s like a switch inside you flipped, making you have zero attraction for him anymore.

Bitterness tainted your tongue with the question, and you rolled your eyes in reply—though, to your favor, he didn’t catch that. “There’s nothing between us, Kyle. He hasn’t asked me out, I haven’t asked him out either. It’s just a whole bunch of nothingness.”

“Really? Why don’t you take the risk?” He hummed.

“I’m not feeling it.” Liar. 

“That’s what you say about everything else, though.” He huffed.

“Yeah? Well, if something happens, then it happens. I’m taking things my own way.” You yawned. “Besides, you’ve never even got in a relationship with anyone before. No offense, but I don’t think you’re the first person I’m running to for advice.”

“I see your point, but I also have common sense. Something you lack sometimes.”

“Thanks, I guess.” You said, finishing off the rest of your drink. “If something happens, let’s just see what goes.”

“Alright.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

A day later, it was the end of class, and you were by your locker with Kyle, fixing your things. You two were in the middle of making plans for what to do after his practice.

“Do you think it’s okay if I skip practice later? I don’t think I’m in the mood to watch you guys.” You hummed, placing some books in your locker before you shut it close.

“Yeah, no stress. I mean, it is my practice. You don’t have to treat it as a bonding activity for us. I just wanted to spend some time with you between breaks, you know?”

“I understand. I really enjoy spending break time with you as well. Even if they’re a bit too short for my liking.”

“Me too.” He sighed.

“Maybe I will stay and watch. Let’s see.” You hummed.

“YN,” a familiar voice caught your attention from behind. It was Kenny. “I, uh, have something to ask you. Can I borrow you for a sec?”

You turned your attention to Kyle for a second. You were pretty sure you two knew where this was going. He teasingly raised his brows twice, mouthing a subtle ‘Get it, girl!’ with a supportive smile to you.

You shifted your focus back to Kenny. “Sure, definitely.” You nodded as he giddily pulled you to the back of the school, where no students were.

Kenny seemed awfully nervous like he knew that you knew what he was about to say. If that was the case, he was right. You hope he had already prepared for rejection as well.

“So, what’s the thing you wanted to ask me?” You feigned naivety, rocking back and forth on your heels. 

“Well, I,” he paused, carefully picking out his words. “I think you’re amazing, and I wanna ask you out on a date.” He coyly muttered, pulling out a small flower he probably got from the garden and handing it to you.

“Kenny…” You cooed, happily picking the flower and tucking it by your ear. Now you felt really bad about what you’re about to do. “You’re really wonderful, but I don’t like you that way. At least not anymore. I’m sorry.”

“You liked me before?” He quirked a brow.

“Yeah, but that was a few weeks ago. Sorry…” You sighed.

“That’s okay.” He smiled. “I do have one question for you, though.” His smile slowly became one of slight worry, almost a frown, actually.

“Yeah? What is it?” 

“You like someone else, don’t you?”

“Yes.” You said, stretching out the ‘s’ at the end. You feel you already knew his next question as well.

“Is it Kyle?”

“...Yeah,” you answered hesitantly. “I don’t think I’m telling him, though. I don’t wanna risk what we already have.”

“YN?” Kenny called. You hummed in reply. “Do it.”

“Why should I?” You raised your brow.

“I’m pretty sure he likes you too. I mean, everyone kind of suspects that at least one of you like the other.”

“Really?” You grinned at the thought of everyone perceiving you two together. He nodded in reply, to which you opened your arms out for him to hug. “Thank you. I have nothing to give you but this. I feel like you need it.” You said, letting out a small laugh.

He nodded and hugged you tight. “Thank you, YN. I’m grateful.” 

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

After a few more moments with Kenny, you finally bid your goodbyes, and you headed back to your locker since you had forgotten your notes for pre-calculus there.

Were you really going to confess to Kyle? Well, with the support of Kenny, you really wanted to now. Maybe you should wait a bit first. You’re probably not ready yet. To your surprise, Kyle was leaning on your locker, scrolling to your phone. You weren’t outside for long, sure, but you thought he’d just show up early at practice like usual.

“Kyle?” You called out.

“There you are.” He smiled, tucking his phone in his pocket as he made eye contact with you. “So, how’d it go? When and where are you two going?”

“Oh, about that,” you sighed, chuckling awkwardly. “I rejected him. So there’s no ‘when and where’ at all.”

“What? But I thought you really liked the guy!” He said, confusion lining his face.

“I mean, I did! But I…” You paused, double thinking your next few words.

“But what?”

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself. Were you really about to do this? “I just never imagined being with anyone else but you.” Yeah, you were.

He paused, processing if what he heard was right. Unfortunately or not for him, you stared him down with a straight face. “YN, don’t joke with me like that.”

“I’m not! I’m being serious.”

“You like me? Like, literally, me?”

“Yes, you!”

“For how long?”

“I realized just recently, but I think I’ve liked you ever since we were kids. I never realized how obvious it was as well. I’m surprised you’re shocked about it 'cause you’ve always known me better than myself.”

“Kiss me.”

You jumped at his words, shifting your stance. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” 

You hesitantly brought yourself closer to him, your lips hovering over his. You closer your eyes, unable to look at him and bring yourself to it anymore. You supposed he realized just that because he had leaned in and closed the gap for the benefit of the two of you.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

By music! Question, I was looking for a Drabble you wrote and post, I think it was a WIP about havenfall is for family, about hisashi’s will and how Izuku wouldn’t get anything if he transition or something and I was wondering if you could help me find it?

Inko had been the first to fall for Hisashi’s charm but she hadn’t been the last by far. Sitting in the small police station that Sherriff Hunt had escorted her, Izuku and Mr. Smith to, she figured Martha probably hadn’t been the last either.

“It fits his usual antics.” Inko said tiredly. “The only reason I stuck around was because he’d actively sabotaged my college career and had a lot of money. Leaving would have ruined me even with evidence of him cheating which three of his girlfriends had given me.”

“A real piece of work,” Sherrif Hunt said in disgust. She paused to look at Izuku who was lost in his own world with Inko’s phone and headphones.

“He’s looking up local heroes.” Inko explained. Hunt looked interested, eyes twinkling.

“Really? Does he know any English? My Japanese is rusty, and I’d like to talk about heroes.”

“He knows a fair amount.” Inko smiled as the sherriff easily drew Izuku away. Far enough he couldn’t hear but close enough Inko could see. She was a good woman, Inko could tell.

“Alright so, Hisashi left you and Izuku everything,” Mr. Smith didn’t beat around the bush. “His funeral was last week, but you didn’t come due to…”

“Izuku’s classmates thought it would be funny to push him down the stairs and he broke his arm and leg,” Inko said shortly. The lawyer stared at her in open mouth shock. Inko noticed that the Sherrif seemed to have stiffened briefly to. Enhanced hearing probably. “One of the parents at least felt bad enough to get a relative with a healing Quirk in but it took a while.”

“Oh…” Mr. Smith swallowed. “Okay, so, it makes sense why you’re staying here for a while.”

“Just a few years to handle Hisashi’s affairs so I can arrange to move to a new place in Japan. The house he and his mother lived in is still good, correct?” Inko asked.

“It is.” Mr. Smith nodded. He made a note on some paper he’d taken from his briefcase. “Izuku will inherit a large sum as long… as…” he trailed off. Inko sighed.

“Izuku declared he was a boy when he was four and I never denied him that. Perhaps he’s a little to young for it, I don’t know. Don’t ask me how gender works. I don’t see any harm in letting him explore pronouns and his identity. Maybe he’ll decide otherwise.” Inko sighed. “What did Hisashi put?”

“Izuku cannot go on hormone blockers and has to have a kid.”

“That sounds illegal.” Inko said instantly.

“It actually is thanks to certain laws in Japan.” Mr. Smith told her. “Here in the states it’s still legal so I believe he thought he could do that. However as most of his assets are in Japan…”

“He couldn’t.” Inko let out a breath of relief. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“Told him Japanese law makes that condition null but he ignored me.” Mr. Smith shrugged. “Not my problem.” The rest of the meeting was just discussing the assets. It was a fair amount of money, enough Inko could go back to college herself to finally get that literature degree she’d always wanted and not work until Izuku was in his teens. And Izuku could be well off as an adult himself. And that was just the liquid assets.

“How many houses did he have?” Inko wondered. There were four in America and two in Japan. Along with multiple sets of art and other goods. “Please tell me he wasn’t a villain.”

“Oh no, just shady,” Mr. Smith said. The meeting continued with Inko agreeing to have some companies clean out the houses and sell them, including the ones in Japan as Inko wanted to arrange a new home for her and Izuku. Without memories of her ex-husband.

Some days were better then others concerning him. She missed the man she thought he’d been; the funny and kind man who swept her off her feet when she was young. Who took her dancing and who promised to love her.

The cracks had appeared when she was twenty-five but she didn’t fully notice them until she was pregnant. When Hisashi knew she wouldn’t leave, because she didn’t have a job or any education. Izuku became her whole world and he used it against her.

Inko would never regret her son. Izuku was her pride and joy, a beautiful little boy. But Hisashi knew what buttons to press. It just got worse when Izuku got his diagnosis.

(She hated that word. Diagnosis, like being Quirkless was a terminal illness meant to kill him. It wouldn’t kill Izuku.

Society would. It already tried when he got shoved down the stairs. It tried when Inko had to fight to get anyone to care. When Mitsuki tried to convince Inko that Katsuki had nothing to do with it, when the woman was so obtuse to her son’s actions that she ignored Inko’s worry. When Mitsuki kept defending Katsuki even when proof came out.

When Inko tried to believe Katsuki apologized only to find Izuku sobbing because the blonde had burned Izuku’s arm due to ‘making auntie side against him’. Inko told Katsuki off and she realized how little anyone had seen her son as a person.

All highly illegal and Inko walked away after setting the police on Aldera and the Bakugou family. She blocked them all.)

Inko hadn’t been a saint when she’d learned Izuku didn’t have a Quirk. She’d gone through the motions and had a pity party until she snapped out of it when Izuku came home with tears in his eyes because he got told by a teacher he’d end up on a street corner.

He was five. Inko hated it took that single act of cruelty to wake her up. Hisashi hadn’t been woken up, but he’d been decent enough to keep up the facade.

[meibinnie]

breaking up with taehyun

pairing: taehyun x afab reader

genre: college au, smut with plot + angst

warnings: break up duh, unprotected sex (don't do this), creampie, emotionally unavailable terry, explicit language, and mentions of cheating.

word count: 2,067

it’s been months of arguing and tension between you and taehyun. He didn’t cheat, he didn’t lie, he just became so emotionally unavailable and you couldn’t fathom. one day he loved you with everything in him and the next, acted like you were just an acquaintance. you were both too scared to call it quits, too normalized with your vicious cycle of toxicity. you tried to convince yourself that he was your comfort person and things would go back to the way that they were. just a few more days, weeks, months even. 

“y/n i’ve told you a million times i don’t like him around you, what don’t you get?” he paced around your dorm room, stressing his words. “tae, i don’t have a choice. if i fail this class, i’ll have to go to summer school, my scholarship doesn’t cover it and i can’t afford it” you explained to him. “then find a new tutor” he thought he was so smart, like things were so easy. He was wrong. “there is no ‘other tutor’ finals are coming up, everyone is busy” you did air quotes as you spoke. “i am with you, i love you. is that not enough to trust me?” you tilted your head asking him.

clicking his tongue and shaking his head, he grabbed his phone off the nightstand and headed for the door. “are you serious right now? you’re just gonna leave?” you questioned him sadly. “i have nothing else to say to you y/n” he shut the door behind him. taehyun was a gentle person especially when it came to you. he never raised his voice, called you out of your name, or made you feel unsafe. the door shut so softly behind him yet the sound still managed to ring your ears, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

two weeks. it’s been two weeks since you’ve spoken to taehyun and he left you in your dorm all alone. you’d have a disagreement, he’d leave or tell you to leave and then you wouldn’t hear from him for days. still active on social media and hanging out with friends like nothing happened but this is the longest he’s ghosted you for. 

you heard your phone buzz you awake and you ignored it. it buzzed again and you turned your back to it, sucking your teeth. a third buzz rang through and you sighed deeply, finally picking it up and reading the screen. it was 1:37am, “you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me” you grumbled to yourself.

tae <3: hey

tae <3: u up?

tae <3: i wanna talk to you, swing by?

taehyun didn’t wanna talk to you, not the kind of talking you wanted to do anyway. his way of apologizing was fucking you til you forgave him and you’re so weak for him that you do. it’s effortless for him because he doesn’t have to buy flowers, make a grand gesture or even address the issue. a few gentle touches here and there paired with empty promises and sweet words, you were forgiving him.

there you were, at his apartment door like an idiot. you didn’t hesitate to knock but he took a while to open the door. when he finally did you almost started to regret a decision you haven’t even made yet. he stood in front of you shirtless, hair disheveled, and gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips, exposing his happy trail. taehyun knew how upset you were, brows knitted, frown slightly present and he knew it was his fault. 

“c’mere baby” he said, taking you into his embrace and planting kisses on your face. your eyes began to water. the door now shut, he pulled you in closer to kiss your sweet lips. he began to mumble in between kisses, “i’ve missed you so much y/n”. it wasn’t fair to yourself to keep this up with him. 

“taehyun stop” you began to push him away by his chest. god his firm chest, you just wanted to lay on him and feel safe. he respected your wishes with a rather confused expression, you had never denied him access to you let alone call him by his full first name. this was a new feeling for him and it stung. “i think we should break up” you practically whispered to him. 

he dropped his hands from your waist and took a step back. “look, i know i haven’t spoken to you in a while but that doesn’t mean we have to break up” it was his turn to wear the saddened look you’ve been holding for months. to feel what you’ve been feeling after trying to make things better, give life to something that had died some months ago.  

“taehyun, all we do is argue, not speak to each other for days, and have sex. that’s not a relationship. that’s not what i want in a relationship” you explained, voice trembling and trying to stand your ground. “i don’t wanna be with you anymore”

he poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue “you’re right. i don’t know why i called you here in the first place”. his words meant to be sincere but couldn’t help spitting it out like venom because how could you? “i stuck beside you when my friends told me to dump you months ago, i defended you when you were clearly seeing other guys” he shook his head at his words.

your eyes widen, “i don’t know what you think you know but it’s wrong” it was your turn to hurt his feelings now. “this is not about another guy taehyun. this is about you not knowing how to treat me” you took a step closer to him, missing his embrace, telling yourself that you just want him to hear you clearly. “you lack so much self awareness it’s pathetic. i voiced how horrible you’ve made me feel for months and you don’t care” a singular tear rolled down your cheek. “sex is not gonna keep me around and it’s not worth emotional distress” you finally finished. 

“y/n get out of my apartment. i’ll get my shit from you whenever and after that i never wanna see you again” he said sternly, still never raising his voice at you. you left his place proud of yourself for doing the best for you, yet feeling so guilty for giving up on something you wanted. 

it’s been two months and taehyun hasn’t come to get his belongings from your dorm, no surprise there. he cut off all contact, blocked you on socials, avoided your friends and stopped going to his usual hangout spots on campus. 

that didn’t stop you from thinking about him everyday. you saw things that reminded you of him all the time and all his belongings in a box in the corner of your room didn’t help in the slightest. your days were spent trying not to cry at least twenty times no matter where you were. 

on the really bad days you wouldn’t even try anymore. “y/n the test is friday and this is your last shot to get your grade up in this class” your professor reminded you. as you left the classroom, you finally let weeks worth of tears spill out, silent sniffles and deep breaths heard from those walking past. it was college, everyone here was god damn miserable anyway. 

back at your dorm you slept all your crying away. the midday nap from 12pm-5pm you woke up disoriented. you heard knocking on your door, deciding to avoid your suitemates like you’ve been doing. not wanting them to see you at  your worst. 

“i’m alive, just really tired. go away” you said through the closed door, stuffing your face back into the pillow. you didn’t budge at the sound of your door opening, just let out a deep sigh. “i just said to go away” still unmoving til “i’m just here to get my stuff y/n” a voice you were once eager to hear spoke. 

you lifted your head up and made direct eye contact with him. he sported a loose t shirt, and plain ripped jeans, so simple yet so effective. his forearms were exposed and decorated with veins. “it’s over there” you pointed to the box in the corner. he just looked at it then back at you “how’ve you been?” he asked. 

no, he wasn’t supposed to speak to you. just get his shit and leave so you’d never have to see him again. you didn’t respond, just shook your head and broke eye contact with him. “y’n can we please talk?” he sat on the edge of your bed, and you scooted back further away from him. 

taehyun was offended but didn’t speak on it, for fear of causing another argument between you too. “i really miss you, you know that right?” he spoke with full honesty because he did really miss you. “taehyun I missed you too but” you stopped yourself, trying to find the right words. calling him by his full first name made him groan internally, missing the way his nickname sounded with your voice. “i think we should leave things as they are” you continued.

taehyun nodded in agreement, and you found yourself moving closer to him. He looked down at your lips then back up at your eyes. he brought his hand up to caress your cheek and god he’s so perfect but you can’t. 

he leans in and kisses you, setting a slow pace. he basks in the sweet taste of you that he’s missed so much. it’s always so easy for him to get you on your back, and you do just that. being with him was so natural and comfortable that you wouldn’t resist him just to feel that.

you stripped each other in between kisses, little whines and breaths til you were skin to skin. he sucked and kissed on every inch of your skin like his life depended on it. when you were ready, he settled in between your legs and slid his bare cock into you causing you both to sigh. 

you grabbed at each other and he put down romantic and loving strokes. all you could do was moan in response, head to foggy to form meaningful sentences. 

“y/n im so sorry” he whispered in your ear. “im so fucking sorry baby” he continued. looking up at him you began to cry at the realization that this was the first time he had ever apologized to you. he was making you feel so good sexually and emotionally and this is what you had been begging him for. 

it was too late because now that you had it, it didn’t feel the same. “I’m a piece of shit and i don’t deserve you. you deserve the world y/n” he continued as he thrusted into you deeply. he hit your spot just right and it had you wrapping your legs around him and rolling your eyes back. 

“tae it- mm, it feels really good” you whined, still teary eyed. “let it all out baby, c’mon i got you” he talked you through your orgasm. the knot in your stomach coming undone and you held on to taehyun as he continued thrusting. almost immediately after he was filling you up with his cum and let out a moan into your ear as he held onto you tightly. 

he pulled out and watched his cum leak out onto the sheets, not caring about the mess. you both laid down, catching your breath. taehyun kissed you, trailing up from your belly button to your forehead. light kisses, appreciating your body and a silent thank you for letting him back in. “y/n i meant what i said you know? i really am sorry” he said looking over at you. “i know” you nodded, looking at him too. he waited for you to say more. “i meant what i said too. i don’t wanna be with you anymore” you spoke softly.

taehyun didn’t know how to handle rejection from you and he knows it. he got up with quickness, putting his clothes back on and gathering his box of belongings as you sat up and watched. “i’ll see you around?” he asked expectantly. you shook your head ‘no’ and he nodded back, leaving you alone for the last time.

[bi-bats]

oh? the couch? 👀

I actually posted a snippet of it once here!! Instead of giving you the premise, I'm going to give you a longer snippet! This chunk happens before the one I linked above (the one that was for word game wednesday):

“Well fortunately for me, you don’t want me dead anymore,” Tim smirked, and Jason twitched a little, letting out a laugh that was a little strained. He thought it was fair, considering how often Jason made other people make the same face when he joked about his death. While Jason got his face under control, Tim turned, sliding his toes out from under Jason’s thigh and dropping his feet to the floor, leaning his head back on Jason’s arm as he sipped at his coffee. The thing was, Jason had been… touchy. When they were alone.  They seemed to be alone together more frequently than they used to be, too, and something about that always made Tim feel warm. The touching wasn’t anything that pushed boundaries, just sitting a little closer together than they would have before, ruffles of his hair, occasional shows of physical affection, but it was enough for him to notice the difference.  He dismissed the idea that Jason was interested every time he suspected it, though. Tim was biased, he wanted it to be true, and it wasn’t like he’d never seen Jason like this with anyone.  He’d seen Kori throw her arm around him while they ate, Roy fall asleep on his shoulder. He’d seen Jason lay his head in Donna’s lap, seen him fully cuddling with Kyle once or twice, though Tim sort of suspected they used to have something more than friendship.  The point was, Jason was just like this with his friends.  It still made that pleased thing lounge in his gut that Jason was like that with him, too. And when Tim laid his head back on Jason’s arm, he dropped it around Tim’s shoulder, pulling him against his side so he could pillow his head on his chest.  “Seriously, Tim. You gotta get more sleep, or if you’re not gonna do that, at least be more careful where you crash.”  “Where’d I crash?”  “An apartment rooftop. With roof access.” Jason frowned down at him, and Tim looked into his coffee. “It could’ve been bad, little bird.”  That was the other new thing. The nicknames.  Tim found he didn’t mind little bird as much. Little red made him feel like Jason’s kid brother, like he was trying to imitate him and falling short of the mark.  Little bird made him feel… precious. Like he was something Jason valued. Something he wanted to keep safe.  “Oh, that one’s fine?” Jason asked.  “It’s better,” Tim agreed. “Sorry for making you peel me off a rooftop. I was being reckless.” “Don’t beat yourself up about it, you didn’t make me do anything. Just be more careful.” “Aw, are you worried about me?” Tim tried to tease, peeking up at Jason’s face, waiting for him to blush and deny it the way he usually did. It always felt good to see that dusting of pink across his freckled cheeks, because that was how Tim knew he was lying.  But instead, Jason looked down at him, his blue-green eyes unusually sincere. “Wouldn’t you be worried if you found me passed out on a rooftop?” 

I'm not working on this one super actively atm, but it does have a cute little plot and would probably be a one-shot. I'd guess maybe 20k words or less? (Then again, I'm terrible at predicting the length of my pieces so take that with a grain of salt lmao)

Anyways, hope you enjoyed and thanks for the ask as always bestie!!!! 💖💖💖💖💖

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 13

Chapter 12 || Index || Chapter 14

Fireheart shook himself off as he entered camp, carrying the limp body of an ill-fated cardinal. The first snows of leafbare had at last arrived, beginning to coat everything in cold, white flakes. Only the camp currently remained uncovered, thanks to the careful pattern of branches and leaves that stretched over it, though he imagined that it wouldn’t remain that way for very long.

As he took his kill to the freshkill pile, he could see that camp was bustling with activity. He could hear Goldenflower’s litter begging her and Frostfur to go out and see the snow, while the elders were bitterly complaining about how the cold was reaching their bones. Even most of the warriors were sitting around camp, sharing tongues in the evening light. It was good to see the Clan thriving, even despite leafbare and the sinister plots that threatened them.

“It’s quite active today.” He heard Longtail remark to Tigerclaw as he deposited his prey. “Has something happened while we were out?”

“Bluestar will be calling a meeting shortly.” The dark tabby deputy responded with his usual low growl. “You’ll see.”

Fireheart perked his ears, but he knew better than to ask anything of the treacherous tabby. It was too early for anything regarding the Gathering; it was still over a half-moon away. No, he thought to himself as his eyes drifted towards where Cinderpaw and Snowkit were play-fighting, this had to be something else.

He caught sight of Peppermask, who was sitting near the entrance, and trotted over with a tail flick as greeting. “Where’s Graystripe?” He asked her curiously as he sat down beside her. “Surely the Twolegplace patrol got back before we did.”

“They did. Tinyfrost and Dustleap are here.” She pointed out the two warriors with her tail, nearly on the opposite sides of camp. “He must’ve left almost immediately, because he wasn’t here when I got back from patrol.”

The ginger tom frowned at that. “Do you think he’s avoiding us?” He wondered, glancing at the bramble entrance. It was empty - all the patrols for the day had already come back. “He’s been spending a lot of time out of camp since the Gathering.”

“Since Quickflash died.” The spotted tabby replied, her ears dipping slightly as she gave him a warning glance. “He’s likely just distracting himself with hunting. He probably thinks he’s being helpful.”

“He wasn’t in camp for the battle, either. You think he’d stay in camp after the scolding Tigerclaw gave him when he finally showed up again.” He huffed as he recalled getting woken out of his drowsing by Tigerclaw’s yowling. He couldn’t fault the deputy, either: All Graystripe had brought back from his day-long hunt had been a couple paltry voles that would barely feed one of Goldenflower’s kits. “I hope he doesn’t miss this meeting. Do you think it’s going to be-?”

“I hope it is. I don’t think anyone can deny that Cinderpaw fought bravely during the battle. Taking on Ratscar and Tangleburr by herself- that’s something any cat could be proud of. Especially with what happened to Mistspring…” Fireheart glanced across camp towards the healer’s den as Peppermask spoke, but the entrance was covered in shadow in the evening light; he couldn’t see inside at all. “If she’s not made a warrior after that, then when?”

“Right.” Fireheart couldn’t disagree with that; he was thinking much the same thing. It had to be a ceremony; if it were anything else, surely Peppermask would have already heard the gossip and told him as such.

“And it’s past time for Snowkit to be apprenticed, too. Sandstorm’s been dropping ‘hints’ all day that she thinks Tigerclaw is going to pick her to be his mentor. It’s her time, or whatever.” The molly rolled her green eyes with great exaggeration. “I was about ready to claw her mouth shut on patrol!”

Fireheart hesitated. It was clear that Snowkit’s deafness, and his being held back, wasn’t common knowledge around camp. Was it fair for him to share it with Peppermask? As he glanced towards the nursery, he could see that Speckleflight had separated him from Cinderpaw and was now busily grooming his head and face. Perhaps Peppermask was right, and Snowkit would be apprenticed today after all.

“There!” The tabby beside him gasped, and he looked over to see Bluestar emerge from her den and immediately scale the Highrock. Even before she said a word, the Clan started to swarm out from around the clearing.

“All cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting!” The Thunderclan leader called out proudly, watching her warriors assemble beneath her. “As you all surely know by now, Brokentail and his rogues were indeed planning to invade our camp. Already they had been stealing prey from our territory.”

There were jeers and hisses at her words, and he noticed a few cats glance back towards the prison where Darkstripe was guarding with a scowl. Word had also spread of Brokentail being held prisoner, and while the Clan had accepted Bluestar and Yellowfang’s word on the matter, it was clear that they had mixed feelings about it. Fireheart couldn’t blame them: Even though Yellowfang was true to her word and hunting and caring for him, he still felt strange about protecting the kit-killer after they had taken in his victims.

“Each warrior in the patrol performed their duties admirably. Fireheart, Dustleap, Longtail and Mousefur acted with great courage and risked their lives to make sure our camp remains safe. Thunderclan honors each of them.” There were excited and envious murmurs at her words, and he noticed several cats stealing a glance towards where he was sitting. He ignored them, keeping his eyes focused on Bluestar.

“However, there is one cat on the patrol that acted just as bravely as each of these warriors, who has not yet received her name.” All eyes now turned towards where Cinderpaw was sitting, near the middle of the crowd. The dark gray molly sat as still as stone, but her tail tip rattling furiously betrayed her excitement. “Her mentor and I have agreed: she has earned her warrior name. Cinderpaw, step forward.”

She did so readily, her dark blue eyes as wide as the moon as she gazed up at the silver queen. “I, Bluestar, leader of Thunderclan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. She has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend her to you as a warrior in her turn.” Their twin blue gazes were locked on each other now. “Cinderpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

The young molly’s body was shaking all over now, yet she still nodded determinedly. “I do!” She yowled, her voice echoing through camp for all to hear. Several cats stifled a chuckle, Fireheart among them.

“Then by the powers of Starclan, I give you your warrior name. Cinderpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Cinderspark. Starclan honors your valor and quick thinking, and we welcome you as a full warrior of Thunderclan.” Bluestar jumped off the Highrock to meet the new warrior, and rested her muzzle on the dark gray molly’s forehead before allowing her to lap respectfully at the leader’s shoulder.

“Cinderspark! Cinderspark!” Fireheart called along with the rest of the crowd, glancing towards the healer’s den as he caught sight of movement. Mistspring stood next to the rocky entrance, her own icy blue eyes glittering with pride as she watched. He could see that her throat was covered in white cobwebs; she was still recovering from her wounds, and he guessed she was under healer’s orders not to use her voice.

The rest of the crowd parted as they caught sight of her, allowing the former mentor through to the newly-appointed warrior. He saw her mouth move slightly as a few quiet words were exchanged before they gently touched noses. As Mistspring began to move back towards the healer’s den, the crowd quickly pressed in, eager to welcome Cinderspark into the warrior ranks.

Fireheart joined them, watching as the newest warrior beamed in pride as she welcomed congratulation after congratulation. “Well done.” He mewed softly to her, touching noses with her softly. “I knew you could do it.”

“Thank you, Fireheart.” He paused as she replied, glancing back at her sparkling blue eyes. “For believing in me, despite everything.”

“Of course.” He dipped his head before continuing on, allowing Peppermask to greet her sister as a warrior. He fondly thought of his own warrior ceremony, as much of a blur as it was from how exhausted he had been. At least Cinderspark wouldn’t have to sit vigil with those mourning, like he had. Tonight would be a night of triumph for her.

He was just about to pad away when he heard a loud yowl from the crowd. “Wait!” He turned to see Speckleflight glaring at Bluestar, who had begun to make for her den. “There’s still one more ceremony to be performed tonight.” The pale golden queen growled, her yellow gaze locked on the leader. “I’ve waited long enough: it’s time to make Snowkit an apprentice.”

While the cats in the crowd perked their ears in curiosity, Bluestar’s own ears flattened in anger. “I’ve already had this conversation with you far too many times, Speckleflight.” She snapped, her blue eyes narrowed to slits. “My decision is final.”

“He deserves a ceremony!” The oldest queen howled, the fur on her spine beginning to raise. “Would you truly make him stay in the nursery forever?”

The silver leader’s scruff started to rise in response. Cats around them whispered eagerly, Cinderspark’s ceremony momentarily forgotten in the sudden drama, and Bluestar glanced towards them with a frown. After a long moment, she sighed and forced her fur to flatten. “If you insist on Snowkit leaving the nursery, Speckleflight, then I suppose I have no choice but to agree.” 

She began to ascend the Highrock once more as Speckleflight grinned triumphantly. Fireheart wanted to celebrate with her, but something about the leader’s flicking tail told him to hesitate. “Snowkit, step forward.” She called out, gazing out at the white kit sitting near the nursery still.

Snowkit stepped forward at his mother's coaxing, looking surprised and a little nervous as Bluestar glared down at him. "Snowkit. The time has come for you to move to the elders' den." There were gasps of shock at her words. Most of the Clan wasn't aware of the young tom's deafness, so such a move would no doubt confuse them. “I will have Dewpaw arrange you with a suitable nest."

The gathered cats eyed each other uneasily as Snowkit stood there, his head tilted in confusion. After several moments of tense silence, Speckleflight came to stand beside her kit. "He won't be going to the elders' den without me." She growled defiantly at her leader as she rested her tail on her son's flank.

Several heartbeats passed. Even though the air was freezing, his fur felt hot from the tension between the two. At last, the leader dipped her head in acknowledgement. "Very well." Bluestar replied coldly. "Speckleflight. Is it your wish to retire to the elders' den?"

Fireheart shifted nervously as he watched the two mollies face each other down. "If you make us, then yes." The dappled golden queen snapped, the fur on her spine beginning to rise.

The silver leader ignored her attitude and continued on. "Thunderclan honors you, Speckleflight, and all the moons of service you have given us in the nursery. May it be Starclan's will that you have many moons of rest."

It was then that Fireheart realized the disparity between the two elder ceremonies, and he grimaced uncomfortably. It was clear that Bluestar cared very little for Snowkit, which seemed so uncharacteristic of her normal motherly demeanor towards the rest of the Clan. 

He glanced at where Cinderspark was standing as Speckleflight began herding Snowkit towards the other elders, and saw the dark gray molly's tail was bristling out of anger for her friend. Still, if she had any objections, she didn't voice them.

“Clan dismissed.” Bluestar called, and the rest of the Clan immediately started gossiping amongst themselves. A kit going straight to the elders’ den was unheard of. And while Speckleflight was the oldest queen in the nursery, it had been assumed - expected, even - that she would have another litter after Snowkit. What would her retirement mean for the nursery?

“Fireheart…?” He glanced over to see Peppermask padding over to him. “You don’t look surprised. Did you know…?”

“I-” He glanced back at the elders’ den. Smallear seemed to be leading Snowkit into the den, presumably to get him a nest, while Rosetail and One-eye were pressed into Speckleflight’s side in comfort. “Back in leaf-fall, the Gathering after I became a warrior, I overheard Speckleflight talking to Bluestar about his apprentice ceremony. Bluestar said she wouldn’t give him one, but I didn’t know why until recently.” He looked back to meet her questioning gaze. “Snowkit is deaf.”

“That’s why…? Oh. Oh.” Peppermask looked past him to the elders’ den. “I- I guess I can see that. Most elders retire once they’re no longer able to hear certain sounds. I guess I can see the logic in it, but to never even give him a name seems cruel.” 

Fireheart hesitated. He didn’t know where he stood on such matters. He was still new to the Clan and its ways, and while he knew why Bluestar had done it, some part of him agreed with Peppermask. He had seen the delight on Snowkit’s face when pretending to spar with Cinderpaw - a delight he remembered well from sparring with his friends as an apprentice. It felt cruel of Bluestar to never give him the chance to experience that for himself.

“Graystripe!” He blinked out of his thoughts as he heard Peppermask call her brother’s name, and turned to see the gray tom exiting the bramble entrance. “Where have you been?”

He looked startled to see them, his yellow eyes wide as they flicked back and forth between his sister and his friend. “I- uh- I was just taking a walk. Enjoying watching the snowflakes falling and all that. What happened? Why is everyone gathered around the Highrock?”

“Cinderspark got her warrior name. You missed it.” Even though he didn’t look at her, he could feel the tense anger in Peppermask’s form beside him. Obviously, she wasn’t pleased with Graystripe in the slightest. “And Speckleflight and Snowkit-”

“She did?” Graystripe gasped in surprise. “I better go congratulate her then! Thanks for letting me know.” He breezed past them, not even bothering to listen to the rest of her words. The gray spotted tabby stared after him, her mouth agape in shock.

“That was weird, even for Graystripe.” Fireheart observed out loud. “He doesn’t even look wet from snow-melt.” Actually, it was quite the opposite - his fur was light and fluffy, as though it had been well-groomed.

“Yeah…” Peppermask replied, her tail twitching beside him. “He doesn’t seem like he’s mourning much at all anymore. Enjoying the snowflakes falling? He’s never liked the cold. He wouldn’t be out there without a reason.”

The ginger warrior hesitated beside her. Had Graystripe lied to them? But why? Surely he knew he could trust them with anything. Even as he thought it, however, thoughts about his sister surfaced. He often lied and said he was going hunting when he visited her. But Graystripe certainly didn’t have any kittypet kin, so who would he be lying about visiting? No, he thought to himself - it must be something else.

“I guess it doesn’t matter right now.” The spotted tabby sighed, getting to her paws. “I’m going to go bring some prey to the nursery. We’re all going to have to take care of the apprentice chores, until Goldenflower’s kits become apprentices.” Her nose twitched irritably. “Unless Bluestar holds them back, too.”

“I hope not!” Fireheart mewed as she padded away. Still, he couldn’t get his mind off of Graystripe. What was his friend hiding? Was it the same reason he seemed to be avoiding them? As he watched Cinderspark accepting congratulations from her brother, he couldn’t help but shake the feeling that something was wrong - and that he wouldn’t find out what until it was too late.

[redmoonwanderer]

FFXIV Write 2024, Day 19 Prompt: Taken Continuation to “Late,” and a prequel piece for “Channel” and “Vicissitudes,” but can probably read independently.

G’raha is quick to leave Idyllshire after meeting Zhloe and learning that Qhol’a hadn’t been around for some time despite usually making time for the orphanage. He is likewise quick to realise that he doesn’t really know where to begin his search. Trying to contact him through linkshell does nothing, his calls never answered, which alone bodes ill news in the horizon.

He knows Qhol’a hasn’t been seen by anyone for a while, made clear by his visits to many inns and taverns, and trying to find the last place he was at would be difficult, since the man had the habit of constantly travelling from place to place.

He does remember Qhol’a saying he’d been thinking about visiting home at some point, but they’ve never really talked about where his home is. He only knows he’s Gyr Abanian, but that could be anywhere from the small migrating communities to Ala Mhigo, and that’s a lot of land to cover for one person.

Which is how he finds himself looking for Thancred, instead. Everyone knows Thancred and Qhol’a know a fair bit about each other, and while Alisaie would be a good bet, as well, Thancred’s specific skills might be better suited for joining him in his search for their missing friend.

Finding the man proves only that much easier than finding clues of Qhol’a. He eventually catches up to him in Limsa Lominsa, where he explains that Qhol’a hasn’t been seen or heard of for a long time, and that there’s a chance he’s in trouble.

Thancred listens, and tells G’raha what he thinks is a vital piece of information. “When I last saw him, there were rumours about Imperials brewing trouble near Baelsar’s Wall. People in Gridania were worried, and he seemed equally so. His family lives in the area, so it is possible he travelled there to make sure they’re alright.”

Before G’raha can ask him to join him, Thancred is already on his feet and telling him to come with.

Somewhere along the way they pick up Estinien like one picks up a stray animal they grow fond of over the years. G’raha does appreciate the help, in case they need to do battle, because the veteran of the Dragonsong War can be trusted to strike true, and that’s just the sort of an ally he would want by his side. He thinks he joins because he’s bored, but there’s no denying he’s Qhol’a’s friend just as the rest of them are.

They go by way of Gridania, where they learn that the activity on the other side has since calmed.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Estinien comments when the unsuspecting Gridanian has waved them goodbye and gone on her merry way.

“No, it doesn’t,” agrees Thancred, and they don’t need to spend time thinking on whether to gather more information, ask for more help, or just go.

Since the Wall is no longer occupied by the enemy, crossing is easy. They ask around more at Castrum Oriens, where they learn that Qhol’a did come through some time ago. He, much like them, had been interested in what the Imperials had been up to, and then taken off. “Guess he dealt with that, they haven’t been a nuisance since soon after,” the Serpent tells them.

No one needs to say that really doesn’t sound good for their friend.

In the wilderness of the Fringes they spend two days trying to find any trace of their friend, and at dusk, it’s Estinien who calls the other two to let them know he might have something.

The scorched ground on which they find the dragoon standing is the best lead they have, and a telling one, at that. It doesn’t take much looking around before they get an idea for what happened: someone who knew had weaved an intricate trap that with right deeds and information drew Qhol’a back where his people were. While they can’t tell exactly what happened, only that there was a battle and it was not kind, G’raha can sense something wrong with the aether in the area. Twisted and knotted, though slowly beginning to right itself.

Whoever was here was good at what they were doing, but not perfect. It’s like whoever was here was in a rush to leave, because there had been no attempt at hiding the tracks left behind, and that much they deduced after going the area to make sure they weren’t being fooled.

Despite the late hour, they make the wordless decision that they must push on.

G’raha just hopes it’s not another trap, this time set for the three of them.

[snailsandpuppy-dogtails]

It's A Trap

Summary: Based on a silly "what if" I had, Penelope and Luke are trapped in the elevator by the unsub with no way to get out and no way to contact the team, leaving them with nothing left to do but address their unresolved feelings and the date they never went on. WC: 2,442 Also on Ao3

An alarm sounded briefly, the elevator shuttering to a halt. Luke and Penelope looked to each other, freezing in place.

Shit

Oh no.

Their minds reeled. Was this? Could it be? Or was it just a coincidence?

Immediately Penelope tried the intercom, finger jamming the button over and over, but no tone would come. Even if it had it was a crap shoot on if someone would have answered, December, skeleton crew at the office, nearly all government employees off for the break.

Seeing her failing attempts to contact maintenance, Luke tried to strong-arm the doors, fingers wedging into the crack, shifting, grip pulling, grunting and straining to no avail. They were between levels, the doors wouldn’t budge, safety feature.

“It’s a trap.” he said, finally.

“No shit.” she responded with some irritation.

The sound echoed as Penelope stomped her feet and slammed a hand against the wall panel. “I hate this elevator!" she yelled in a fit of rage and frustration, sliding down the wall to the cold ground.

Luke whipped his head towards her, focused only on her words. Regardless of their situation he couldn’t deny the hurt he felt hearing that, a little stab on top of everything else he was dealing with since her return. Despite himself, he'd always been a romantic at heart, and this elevator held a special place on his mantle of memories. Was it really that bad, working together? Being back? He kind of thought…maybe something…

They never did get to go on the date they agreed to. A case came up, and then another, and then…lock down. Everywhere was closed, shutdown, the whole city… the whole country. Sure, they could have had a low-key date at one of their places, but there were also curfews, he didn’t want to make it weird, put pressure or expectations on things.

…And then…they just…stopped. He got the feeling she’d lost interest and he had too much respect for her to push the topic.

Maybe he should have. Should have at least made it clear that he was still interested in exploring that side to their relationship. But he didn’t, so there was no use dwelling on it. Penelope was a good fit because she knew him, knew his personality, understood the pressures of his job and would be understanding in regard to the constraints he faced in his personal life because of it. But those were just the practical aspects of a relationship with her, not the emotional ones, not the ones that kept him thinking about ‘what ifs’ everyday. The indescribable ones…inarticulable ones, how she makes him feel, how her love for others makes him feel. But really were the practical pluses for him fair to her? That he’d be gone all the time? Unreliable for the average dinner or dog walk, let alone long-term plans? The constant fear that he might get hurt…or worse while away. It wasn’t fair to put her through that as more than a friend after she left it all behind. All the pros and cons he’d considered countless times before swirled in his head again, clouding everything.

His mouth formed a tight line. He couldn't think about that right now. He refocused on the situation at hand noticing her now holding out her phone, "Do you have a signal?"

But he knew the answer before he asked. She just looked at him, expression saying it all. She didn't. He wouldn't. And knowing what they knew about the unsub, it was likely no one would be able to see they were stuck. The feed would be replaced with one of an empty carriage, appearing to security to just be a malfunctioning elevator. Low on the list of emergencies when there were two missing BAU employees on an active case and a low in-office workforce.

Luke paced the small space made even smaller by Penelope’s outstretched legs. He shut his eyes and rubbed at his forehead thinking. This was so dumb. How could they be so dumb? They knew they were being targeted. They knew his skills with electronics. It’s why he insisted they bring her back. Insisted they couldn't do it with out her. Penelope He was the reason she was trapped in here. And if she hated this elevator, she was hating him even more now. Hell, he was beginning to hate himself for bringing her back on board.

No. Beating himself up wouldn’t help matters, wouldn’t solve anything. Anticipating hacking an elevator would have been excessive. But apparently excessive is what they needed to anticipate now.

He needed to think.

Out there right now Rossi, Prentiss, JJ, and Tara were working the case.

In here he and Penelope were stuck.

They would notice Penelope’s absence pretty quickly, more quickly than his since they call her for everything. That was good, the team would know something was up. Unless they fell into traps too.

And why had he and Penelope been trapped, but left unharmed? Why were they just sitting here? If he could just find a way out- pry the doors open, get to the access panel in the ceiling… hot-wire the intercom, anything… But it was no use. He would have the intercom rigged to burn if they tried it, the access panel was too high up without something to stand on, and again, the doors wouldn’t open mid-level for safety. For all intents and purposes they were stuck and he was going to go stir crazy virtually left incapacitated.

Agitation started to form in his ribs, an animal trapped. He knew he needed to stay calm, to stay level. He had plenty of experience with more nerve wracking situations so why was this one getting to him so quickly?

Luke checked himself mentally.

Calm down. Breathe. You’re no use to anyone like that.

“Would you stop!?” Penelope growled. “You almost stepped on me! Sit down, stop pacing! You’re going to make me sick.” she finished with a grumble. She was staring at her phone again, furiously tapping, index fingers slamming into glass.

Luke gave her a withering glance, “I’m trying to find a way out and figure out why we were trapped in here to begin with.”

“Isn’t it obvious? So we can’t help the team. So when they realize we’re missing they focus on finding us rather than going after him. We’re a distraction. If I could just text them” she roared, jabbing her fingers against her phone again, “they would know not to fall for it.”

Trapped. In an elevator. In this elevator. With him.

She’d been trying not to think about it. She’d been good at avoiding it all together.

Being alone with Luke.

It was hard to see him, to be around him, he was so nice. A great person, a kind and loving and sweet and caring person. And he was still so friendly to her. She saw now it was only fleeting feelings, some twisted sense of duty in asking her out. Fortunately for both of them they never got that chance, Penelope writing new code for her new job, creepy cases pulling Luke away almost immediately…and then when they could have it was just quietly swept under the rug.

Covid was a convenient cover, a good one for letting her down easy and still some-what maintaining the friendship. After lockdown he didn't try to reschedule and she didn't offer to have him over and cook, thought if she were being honest with herself a nice low-key at home date would have been so much less pressure than some formal thing at a restaurant sitting across from each other trying not to be awkward while eye contact darted back to whatever plate was in front of them. At least this way there were no long-lasting developed feelings attached… Some things, she’d learned, were better left alone. But that didn’t mean being around him again didn’t affect her. She didn’t know how to act, didn’t want to flirt and make things weird and every time she tried to be normal it came out snappish and overly mean, so she’d taken to talking to him as little as possible. Being cold. Being distant. Worse than when he was first on the team because now she really didhave something to protect herself from regarding him because she let herself catch feelings for him. And now here they were stuck in a very small place together. A very small place with lots of shared memories.

Luke sighed, running a hand through his hair. Getting upset was just setting her on edge. They were feeding off each other's negative energy, they needed cool heads to work through it together. He decided to take a seat next to her, legs outstretched too.

Penelope let her head fall back against the wall, eyes closing. She just needed to think, that’s all. She could think if she could block him out.

Block him out. Right. While he was shoulder to shoulder and she could hear him breathing and she could smell him and he was so close and so warm and and he was rubbing her thigh...

“Stop!” She threw her hands out, swiping him away “Stop touching me! I can’t think!”

“I can’t comfort you? I can’t do anything else right now.”

“There is no comfort here Luke. Why do you always need to touch me!?”

“Because it makes me feel better. Because I’m going crazy in here, but holding you, knowing you’re ok-.”

“Well I’M NOT. I’M NOT OKAY! None of this is OKAY!”

“Fine,” he muttered. Luke got up so fast she felt the cold rush in where he had been pressed to her, her insides icing.

And then he began to jump. Up and down spring loaded legs leaping with a grunt, feet landing hard and fast. Over and over he jumped, each time landing perilously close to her, room bouncing, irritation setting in again.

“What the FUCK, Alvez?” Penelope said, scrabbling up and away from boots falling inches from her. “Are you trying to stomp on me?!”

Luke stopped, looking her dead in the eyes, hard face softening a little as it landed on her. “Chica, I’m trying to get us out of here. I need to do something and clearly sitting with you isn’t an option.”

The pissed off expression she wore wilted under his gaze, shoulders slacking in forfeit, she let out a breath, both just looking at each other for a long minute.

This was the last thing he should be asking, the last thing on his mind. But right now, they were stuck here, there was nothing else they could do. There was no moving forward without addressing the massive elephant keeping them from communicating. Communication is key, especially on a team. “So,” he mentally prodded, “Communicate.”

He took a breath in, letting it all out, “Do you regret it?” he asked so soft, so light it might break.

He wasn’t serious. Right now? He wanted to talk about this right now?! “Regret what?” she spat out dangerously, arms crossing tight over her chest, defenses back up.

But he wasn’t going to let her get out of it that easy, “You know what I’m talking about. Do you regret it, Penelope?”

She glared at him. Why did they have to do this? He was always forcing her into conversations she didn’t want to have. Ok, not always, but definitely that one time in her office when he felt like he could just close her door with them both in there after she told him to go.

Her eyes fell to a bottom corner of the elevator. “Yes.” she paused, taking a breath in, “No. Not really, but look, Luke, I know you do. I know it was just like, a passing fancy. Some panicked response to not seeing each other any more. So you asked me out and I said yes, but then things didn’t progress and they didn’t really regress either they just sort of evaporated. Well not really evaporated not for m- Anyway. And I know you feel bad so you’ve been extra nice. And it makes sense we’d have this unresolved tension seeing each other again but we don’t need to because nothing happened between us and I know you don’t have feelings for me and I know you’ve been trying to spare my feelings, but you don’t need to! We can just go back- I’ll try- We can go back to-“ she was faltering and fidgeting and rambling on and then he jumped in, cutting her off.

“Penelope, stop. Just. Stop. Talking. You don’t know anything. You definitely don’t know how I feel. I asked you to dinner because I wanted to. Want to. Still. The only reason I didn’t push is because I thought you didn’t want to. I know the job is a lot, I thought maybe you decided even dating someone doing it would be too much…”

She noticed that he was touching her again, his fingers looped with each of hers. Watching his thumbs smooth across the tops of her fingers, she looked down wondering when that had happened.

“Hey.” he said, jostling their hands. She looked up, wide eyes meeting his own. “I think it’s important to have things to look forward to…Penelope, do we have something to look forward to?”

Lost in the moment, letting go, her fingers laced around his neck, cheshire cat smile spreading, “Luke Alvez, are you asking me to dinner again?”

He grinned at her, hands finding a new home resting on her hips “I’m trying to, yeah.”

Laced fingers pulled Luke forward to meet her “Maybe we should seal it with a kiss this time-“

Soft full lips met his, one tipping opening slowly with the other, then closing again, a fine press and slide. This, this is what she had waited two years for, these lips that graced bragging cheeks finally on jealous lips. Distracted with the thought, Penelope lost the lead as Luke took charge, jaw dropping to capture her lower lip. Supple pressure wrapped and the light scrape of teeth grazing as he sucked and released, sending fine sparks and causing her grip to tighten. She was definitely going to tell JJ about this.

JJ

Pulling away she shook her head, eyes bright, “Phone! Gimme your phone” she demanded, palm turned up expectantly and fingers curling.

Luke, punch drunk and catching up looked on with confusion, “My wha- we don’t have-”

“Luke, Phone. Now!” she insisted, with more impatience, “I’m not going to call, I’m going to harvest. Geez, do I have to be the gorgeous one and the genius one?”

[enigmatic-robin]

Friendship with rogues

Day 2 of Scarecrow Week

Jonathan Crane & Harley Quinn & Edward Nygma

Words: 1036

-

“It’s all black and gray, there’s no color!” Harley huffed, leaning on Jonathan dramatically.

“It’s a Halloween puzzle, it’s supposed to be dark,” Jonathan pointed out, affixing two orange pieces in the shape of a pumpkin. “That’s why we have Edward doing the part that’s all the same shade of black”

“Well how is he managing to do it so fast?”

Edward looked up from his section, which was a hill in shadow. All the same shade of black, but still further along than the other two.

“It’s because I’m the Prince of Puzzles, could you really expect less from me?”

“It’s because he’s autistic, he exhibits pattern seeking behavior. And he’s been doing these all his life for tactile stimulation” Jonathan explained, picking up a piece and handing it to Edward.

He snatched it, mumbling something about ‘fucking psychologists’ as he placed it.

Harley chewed her pumpkin-shaped cookie contently, passing an orange piece to Jonathan.

“To be fair, I could’ve piled on top of that but I didn’t, it’s not so much ‘psychologists’ as just Jonathan”

“Wh- how would you add onto that?!”

“Puzzles are an activity that can be done alone. you were a lonely child, you had plenty of practice.”

Edward turned pink, scowling.

“… I asked for that, didn’t I?”

“Quite literally” Jon confirmed.

He just grumbled, continuing his section.

Harley grabbed another cookie, shoving it in her mouth and passing one to each of her friends.

“Sorry Eddie,”

“Not your fault, I did ask for it.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Jonathan interjected. “You’re very well adjusted for your childhood.”

Edward chuckled, shaking his head. Harley snorted, and Jonathan himself couldn’t manage to suppress a smile.

“Thank you for your absolutely egregious lie, Jonathan, but I’ve embraced my lack of adjustment. If I was well adjusted, I wouldn’t be here with you guys”

“… I think he’s finally lost it completely, Harley” Jonathan muttered conspiratorially, making her burst into a fit of giggles.

“I think that boats long sailed for all of us, Professor”

He shrugged, connecting his section to Edward’s now that it was constructed enough to do so.

“Can you turn the TV up? It’s about to get good.”

Harley turned up the volume, but Edward just looked at him.

“… you’re faced away from the TV.”

“I know this movie, Edward.”

“You mean to tell me that you have memorized Tim Burton’s A Nightmare Before Christmas to the point you don’t even need to look at it to know how far into it we are with the volume all the way down at five?” Edward pressed.

“Hey, as far as I’m concerned it’s Henry Selik’s, the ‘Tim Burton’ at the beginning was just added so more people would come see it, he didn’t do shit for that movie. You know when they did the test screening for him he threw a tantrum? He kicked a hole in the wall, a grown ass man! This ain’t his movie.”

“… Damn Jonny, tell ‘em how you really feel” Harley piped up, passing him another cookie, which he ate graciously.

Edward shook his head, muttering under his breath again, though he was smiling this time.

“What was that, Eddie?”

“I said you’re lucky I found that rant endearing and I don’t hit you with my cane”

“No, I heard him!” Harley interjected. “He said that was actually pretty impressive”

Jonathan smirked, watching Edward try to find a way to deny it without calling Harley a liar.

“I- no I just- don’t we have a puzzle to finish?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure if we don’t finish it you’re gonna have an aneurism trying to hold back from finishing it yourself” Jonathan muttered, sounding more fond than snarky. He added another completed area to what he’d already attached with a click.

“Thanks for giving me the colored parts. I dunno how you guys are matching those colors, they’re so alike.” Harley finished putting Jack Skellington’s face together, adding it next to her completed moon.

“You know, you can put your glasses on. We’re not gonna judge you. It’d probably make this puzzle easier”

She groaned, overdramatically draping herself on the table.

“But I look so stiff and boring with them!” She whined, her performance losing some drama as he reached for another cookie.

“We’re both currently wearing glasses, Harley.” Edward pointed out.

“I don’t have a pair with me.”

Jonathan sighed, standing up and heading to his desk. He rifled through for a moment before pulling out a case and tossing it over.

“Professor, I doubt we have the same prescription.”

“We don’t, they’re yours. You’re getting predictable.”

“Your face is predictable! I just don’t wanna look like a nerd.” She huffed, sticking her tongue out at him.

“You don’t want to look like Harleen”

She looked at Edward incredulously, who just mouthed the word 'psychologists’ and leaned back in his chair.

“… Close that can of worms right now young man.” She demanded, and he raised his hands defensively.

“Closed, it’s closed. You’re gonna give yourself a never ending headache if you keep skipping out on contacts, though.”

Harley put the glasses on, tossing the case at Crane’s head. He let it hit with a soft noise and land on his lap.

“… if you were anyone else…”

“Mmmhm, but I’m not” she hummed, finishing her side of the puzzle. Jonathan reached for his pieces, batting Edward’s hands away from them.

“True, you’re not. And for that you should be very grateful”

Harley grinned, taking one last cookie before jumping onto the couch.

“I’m always gonna be grateful to have you guys”

Her words were earnest in a way Jonathan himself could never express. In the end, however, he knew the feeling. He also gravitated towards the couch, immediately having arms wrap around one of his as Harley decided where on his bony body had enough meat to be a pillow. Not to be outdone Edward took Jonathan’s other side, draping himself over his thighs.

It wasn’t the most comfortable way to watch the rest of the movie, no, but when did they ever do things the easy way? Never. But this?

If there was a right way, this was it.