#I am no longer ready to up and go like I had been I need more time to prepare

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Eyes on the Mirror - part 1

Pairing: neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader Rating: +18, NSFW Words count: 2631 Summary: You're at a turning point in your relationship with Frankie, he tells you that his mother insists on meeting you. Tags/Warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, reader wears dresses, heels and uses make-up, no other description of her is given, no mention of her skin tone and she doesn't blush, no description of her hair, Frankie can lift her but he’s a hunk of a men you know, mention of food, established relationship, enemies to lovers, smut, fluff, kissing, mention of unprotected p in v, nipples play (f receiving), oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), panties in mouth (don't know how it's called in English, I just know that I like it lol), Frankie is our canon PEK and also the perfect boyfriend okay, mention of being caught (well, to be more specific, to be heard lol), pet names. Let me know if I forgot something and I'll add it right away. A/N: This has been a long journey and I think it took me longer than expected. Second part is coming tomorrow. It's an emotional work, it's smut, but it's smut with feelings and I think I put a lot of myself into it. So I ask you to be especially delicate. This Frankie is the same guy from You look like a fun place to sit and Give me more Anyway, let me say a few thanks because I can't believe I had two people volunteer to be my beta, I'm very lucky. Kate @aurorawritestoescape and Ally @arcanefox207 The fact alone that you took some time to read and proofread my stuff is so important to me and you have given me so many helpful suggestions and advice, I am very grateful ❤️ Thank you Odi @joelmillerisapunk , to let me blather, to cheer me up, to always have the right words, I don't know how you do it, you're literally a gem ❤️ We’re going back to the emotional unavailable men agenda asap but for the moment I hope you’ll enjoy my lover boy neighbor!Frankie who is crazy about his girl 🥰  English is not my first language, any mistake is still on me, so if you come across one I’m very sorry. Frankie Masterlist ⎮ Masterlist ⎮ part 2

You and Frankie have been together for four months now, and you’re incredibly happy. Your neighbor, the man you spent a year hating, revealed himself as the best man you’ve ever been in a relationship with. 

You haven't said “I love you” to each other yet, you're taking it slow and you're perfectly fine with that, you know you have strong feelings for him but you don't know if he's ready to say it and the last thing you want is to ruin the best relationship you've had because of words said too soon. 

So you respect his timing without forcing his hand. And still you often think you don't even really need to say it, all you really want is to keep being with him, the man who can make you laugh in a second, with whom you like to do everything from the most mundane things like grocery shopping and running errands, to talking for hours and sharing everything with him, cooking, going to parties and concerts, even bickering. 

And sex. 

Oh, Frankie is a fucking magician. 

The most shockingly fiery and at the same time sweet lover you've ever had. 

You feel you can be yourself at all times with him, he knows your flaws and frailties and accepts them. And from where you were starting out it already feels like a considerable accomplishment. You never thought that the man who used to spend time judging you, once you penetrated his armor, was actually such a tolerant and nonjudgmental person.

You haven't moved in together, but you spend almost every night together, and yet, you are still trying to navigate your relationship without making the other one run off before taking the next step.

So when Frankie tells you that his mother would love to meet you, you get a little scared but you try to put on a good face.

"You really don't mind?" he prods you. 

You can never hide anything from him; Frankie has an ability to read your mind, the talent that you had never found in a man. 

His eyes scan you and he has a cunning little smile as he’s standing on the other side of the table, eating the eggs you prepared for him. 

“Yeah, don't worry, it's okay,” you nod, your movement a little forced, and Frankie notices it. 

“You're nervous, huh? Look it's normal,” he tries to reassure you, his hand slides across the table until it meets yours. 

He squeezes it gently and then intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“I'm sorry, she's been nagging me for at least a month now, I've managed to keep her at bay until now but she grilled me yesterday and told me that she was expecting us for dinner on Friday.”

“Yeah...I just feel a little pressure, you know, but it's okay,” you admit.

“Babe, she will like you very much, I'm sure.”

You look into his eyes, those big eyes the color of coffee and chocolate, and the comfortable glow they give off immediately takes away part of the weight you feel on your chest. 

“Are you sure?” you murmur.

“Of course!” he smiles at you, ”Well, you're a little sassy but...”

You slap his hand “Frankie! You're not helping me!” you complain. 

“Come on, I'm kidding. She’s going to adore you, I have no doubt about it,” he chuckles.

“Mmmm we’ll see” you still mumble with uncertainty.

"Come here," he says softly. 

You get up and walk over to him before he welcomes you on his lap and you wrap your arms around his neck. He rests his forehead on yours looking into your eyes and repeats softly, “she will adore you…not as much as I do but she sure will”

The thing is this with him, he's been circling around that word for weeks, so you're pretty sure he's going to confess sooner or later.

"What if she doesn't like me?" you ask him and bite your lip, looking at him expectantly.

“Uh, I don't want to stop fucking you, you know... so, you'll have to stay in a clandestine relationship while I'm dating a woman, personally chosen by my mom.” 

You kiss him, muttering “god, you're so...” 

He giggles and asks "what am I like?" tightening his grip on your waist a little tighter and pulling you closer to his chest, your tits pressed against him. 

“An incredibly lovely fucking bastard.”

________________________________________

You are in the kitchen preparing dinner, which in your case means putting take-out pizza on plates, as you hear Frankie come in. 

“Hey, are you here?” 

He gave you his keys a few weeks ago to make it easier for you to get around.

“In the kitchen!” you shout to him. 

You hear his footsteps approaching from the hallway until he comes in with a bag. 

“Hey, baby.” 

You walk up to him to give him a kiss, he immediately puts down the bag and hugs you tightly. “mmm I missed you. What's for dinner?” 

“Pizza,” you tell him smiling through your eyelashes and stealing another kiss, his beard tickling your cupid's bow pleasantly “And I was thinking about…uhm…your cock for dessert.”

He squeezes your butt, chuckling, “So eager, huh?”

“For you? Always,” you purr, looking into his eyes, veiled with desire.

His stomach grumbles slightly making you giggle, “Do you want to eat first?” 

“Uh, no,” he whispers, and as he does so he slips two fingers under the straps of your dress and pulls it off, letting it slide to the floor. 

You're in your panties in front of him, no bra, he looks at you spellbound with a smirk that unknowingly puckers his lips, "do you know how beautiful you are?" 

His eyes move from your face down to the crease of your neck, your cleavage, your breasts, your stomach, slowly, as if he is drinking from your body, the source that keeps him alive. 

He takes his time, still hasn't touched you but you'd swear you've never felt more caressed than now, nurtured, sensed, accepted in your body's every disheveled and flawed manifestation.

You could swear you could moan from that alone.

When his hands approach your hips you want them so badly that you instinctively lean into them to meet his palms, the warmth of his skin welcoming you.

You cling to his broad shoulders, bringing his body closer to yours.

He lifts you up as if you weighed nothing and lays you on the kitchen countertop, next to the sink. 

Your legs hang over the edge as he commands, “open wide, baby,” and settles in between, still fully clothed. 

“Frankie, please.” 

“You know what I like?” he asks with a smirk, ”the way you light up as soon as I touch you. God, it drives me crazy the way you instantly become a needy little animal, you know that?" 

You feel your eyes heavy and your voice shaky as you repeat his question, “You know what I like? The way you know exactly what I need.”

He smiles, leaning down to your neck to bite the soft skin over your pulse point and soothing it right after with his warm tongue. 

He lowers himself onto you, leaving a trail of kisses on your beating chest, pausing on your tits and spreading his lips over your nipples, first one and then the other, caressing them with his tongue, swirling it around. You moan with each touch, tilting your head back as he sucks them harder, his beard pinching you gently, his warm lips enveloping them.

You pull his cap off and sink a hand into his dark curls. 

He knows you so well, it is as if he has memorized your every little reaction and in his mind has written himself a manual on how to make you completely lose control. 

He continues to work on your nipples, grazing them with his teeth, licking them up and down with his tongue, sucking them between his lips, hard and covering them with his saliva. His tongue goes around your areola, returning to your little pebble every time you pull his hair a little harder and mewl.

He suddenly leaves your tits and returns to your neck, you groan in disappointment but his tongue immediately soothes you trailing up to your jaw and licking over your lips, inviting them to open for him and dragging you in a sloppy, feral kiss that leaves you breathless.

His hips are rocking into you, brushing over your damp underwear while you wrap your legs around his waist, pushing him against your core.

His eyes are dark with lust as he moves one of his hands over your soaked underwear, brushing your folds with his knuckles, “I’m going to make you scream my name so loudly, baby”

“That’s exactly what I want,” you prod him, biting down softly on his lower lip. “Do your magic, Morales.” 

You loosen the grip of your legs, gently pushing his shoulders to invite him to lower himself, and Frankie grumbles jokingly, "bossy". 

He kneels in front of you holding his hands down on your back, just above your butt and pushes you toward him, you falter for a moment balancing on the edge of the counter but his grip is strong and secure.

You run a hand through his curls, tugging slightly.

He licks a strip over your panties, taking the fabric between his teeth, without stopping to look at you. 

A fucking tease. 

He stills for a moment and then kisses your clit. 

Then he moves his flat tongue flat down, almost to your tight hole and then back up, again and again, lingering on your clit with quick flicks of his tongue.

The fabric of your panties is wet with his saliva as a new stream of pleasure floods you, soaking them even more.

“Oh fuck, yes,” you holler.

He looks at you mischievously. “Thinking about it… we should take some measures to make sure you stay quiet, honey, you know?” he nods to the half opened window right behind you. 

You glance back and then blurt out, “oh, whatever, let them hear us.”

Frankie chuckles at your impatience. “Do you really want to put on a show for the whole neighborhood?” 

“There are curtains, they can't see us,” you frown

“But do they need to hear us?” he says as he pulls off your panties, sliding them down your legs.

He sniffs them for a moment- “fucking sweet, darling” - while you wonder what he's going to do, then rolls them and stands back up, sneaking his hand behind your neck and looking at you authoritatively, his lips pursed in a smirk. 

He runs his thumb over your mouth, stops in the center and pushes gently, silently commanding you to open it. The moment your lips part he thrusts your panties into your mouth. “That's it, good girl” he coos.

It’s so wrong, keeping your panties in your mouth like that, your tongue numbed with the taste of it and your body tense under Frankie’s gaze. But also fucking right. 

He graciously holds his power over you, always considerate of your need while he plays with your mind in a delicious nasty way. 

He caresses your cheek, moving down to the column of your neck, wrapping his fingers around it, “Don't try to take them out or you won't get what you want,” he gently orders.  “Can you behave for me?” 

You nod.

He gives you a smirk and gets back on his knees and admires your glistening pussy for a moment. “Always so fucking wet for me,” he whispers before sinking into you again, licking and sucking on your clit and down on your folds, his nose hitting your most sensitive part. 

When you’re basically dripping on your inner thighs, he slides two fingers inside you, so easily moving over the spot he knows makes you see double.

His fingers are inside you up to his knuckles when he curls them, pushing and grasping.

You are thrown into a frenzy almost immediately as he gently hits you with his fingertips again and again, sucking avidly on your clit as you’re stifling your moans by clenching your teeth on your panties.

He laps at your folds so thoroughly, then goes back on your bundle of nerves, sloppy wet noises fill the air mixing with your gasps as he scissors and pushes into you.

He hums against you, whines evenly, you watch him through your eyelashes as he palms himself from above his jeans, seeking some relief.

He doesn’t stop until he feels your legs shake and your stifled mewls trying desperately to get out of your throat. 

Your orgasm crushes over you like a wave, leaving you quivering and breathless.

He gets back up and removes the panties from your mouth, kissing you with his mouth still smeared with your essence. 

 “You’ve been so good, baby.”

You pull him by his shirt protesting, "You haven't got anything yet, though.”

“That’s not a problem, hun, we can eat something and then you’ll eat me. Dessert, remember?” 

You giggle “deal.” 

You steal another kiss from him before slipping your dress back on and setting the table. 

As you eat you notice the bag he left in a corner by the kitchen door.

“What is that?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I almost forgot, it's a gift for you." 

You squint your eyes “For me? You didn't have to!”

Frankie smiles “I saw it in a store and thought of you. Open it.” 

You get up and go for the bag, not before giving him a kiss.

When you open the bag you find a dress. 

Very simple, black, not too low-cut, with a tulip skirt. 

As you're looking at it, leaning it over your body to see the length, Frankie suggests that you could wear it to his mother's. 

____________________________________________

“Are you ready, honey?” 

Frankie's voice is muffled by the bathroom door as you're finishing putting on your lipstick.

“Almost, you just need to help me with the zipper.”

Frankie opens the door and peeps into the bathroom.

He stops behind you, admiring you in the mirror as you stand there with your lips parted, leaning slightly over the sink, your legs slender from your heels, you wear the dress he bought you, unzipped at the back.

“Jesus, you’re a vision,” he breathes. “Maybe we should skip dinner at my mom’s.” 

He approaches you and settles his big hands firmly on your hips. 

“Come on, Frankie, be serious,” you giggle.

“I'm serious,” he replies in a rough, deep voice.

He leans down to leave a trail of kisses down the exposed skin on your back, his soft lips send shivers down your spine and you are almost on the verge of giving in. 

You set your lipstick down on the sink countertop and turn to look at him pouting

"You can't do this to me now, you know we can't skip it.” 

“Well, it might help you relax though,” he continues to flirt, his lips curved into a little smile.

You’d fall for it any other day but not now that you’re trying to figure out how to impress someone you don’t even know. 

Frankie told you something about his mom, how protective she is and overall pretty conservative, you’re the exact opposite. 

You don’t know why he stays so positive about the dinner, you’re pretty sure she will hate you.

One look from you is enough to let him know how nervous you are.

Frankie leaves a light kiss on your shoulders and says. "Okay, I'll behave, turn around." 

He pulls up his zipper looking at you in the mirror, “Anyway, I wasn’t lying, you look really beautiful.” 

You smile softly, feeling your heart fluttering.

general tag list: @baronessvonglitter , @milla-frenchy , @thundermartini , @harriedandharassed , @almostempty let me know if you want to be added or removed and I’ll do it right away. Thank you so much for reading!

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 27. Outsmarted

Summary: Dahlia and Han are on the way to secure the win for their squad, when Dahlia gets the feeling they are no longer alone, and that the note they were left might not have been entirely true.

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Support Me

So far everything was going smoothly. Almost too smoothly. As far as I knew, not a single member from Second Squad had followed us. Surely they were told of our objective once the horn sounded. There’s no way they didn’t. We’d been told to deliver it without being captured. They had to have known. Within a few minutes we would be at our delivery point. Hell I could see the top of the tower peeking through the trees.

As useful as Kai’s signet was, I really wished I’d found someone with a sensory signet, or something I could scan my surroundings with. I was going to have to read up on everyone’s signets when I got back to Basgiath. It would really come in handy for situations like this. But that also meant getting close to them. And seeing as no one in our Squad had a signet like that, my chances of making that work before a Squad related battle were slim.

But even without a signet like that, I know I am not alone out here. There was someone else out here with Han and I. Han who was taking care to walk as close to me as he could, placing his steps just where mine had been. But even with him so close I don’t want to risk talking to him. I could try mask it, but if someone was watching us they would probably see my mouth move. And I honestly wasn’t sure of my capability to mask his footsteps and us talking. I just hoped he was also having the same feeling I was.

We finally break through the trees, the tower in sight. Up close and on foot it looks a lot bigger than it did last night on the dragon when Xaden, Bodhi and I had flown around to get a lay of the land. That was going to be a bitch to run up while also masking our foot steps. There had to be a catch to this. There’s no way no one followed us. And from what I knew, none of Garrick’s squad had any signets they could use to mask themselves. Someone was here and ready to pounce. But who.

Movement at the top of the tower catches my eyes. My eyes going wide at who I see up there. Even from down here there is no denying who that is. Tawny skin, the blackest hair I’ve ever seen, and with no flight jacket on it’s easy to see the large relic that wraps around his arm. Xaden. So leadership weren’t really gone. They’d been here, watching us this entire time. I whip around, scanning the trees around me as I back up. Meaning there was only one person who could be out here with me.

That’s why no one had followed us from outpost. They might have lost their dragons, but they hadn’t lost their leadership. Explaining why I’d only felt like I was being watched at the very end. A large crack sounds to my left, a large foot stepping on a branch that snaps easily under the weight of the person atop it. As if on a casual stroll, Garrick steps out from the trees looking like death itself. I’d only seen him fully geared up a few times, but it never failed to make me a little uneasy as well as some other feelings I didn’t want to admit. Garrick was already a weapon without his swords. But seeing him there, looming in the shadows, hulking frame with two large swords strapped to his back and god knows how many daggers strapped to his sides under his flight jacket.

I feel Han tap the side of my leg, a morse code we’d established before leaving. I tap back on his hand twice. Telling him not to run just yet. If this was to work, Garrick needed to be closer and to catch me. I wanted the satisfaction of him thinking he’d won before I ripped it out from under him. I shove the decoy flag into the pocket on the inside of my jacket, turning towards the tower as I purposefully run at a slower rate than normal. I knew I was faster than Garrick, and due to the distance between us, I needed him to catch up just a little bit before I get to the tower. I hear him take off after me, his loud steps thundering behind me. I reach the bottom of the tower, pretending to slip on the wet ground from the rain last night. I curse as my knees slam into the ground harder than I expect. That was going to leave a mark. Fantastic.

”Might need to practice your foot work little Aetos.” He calls out, far closer than I wanted him at this point.

I growl out in frustration as I push of the ground and start up the stairs. Here Garrick would have the advantage. His legs were far longer than mine, he’d be able to take multiple steps at a time compared to me. And as I glance over my shoulder I see him gaining on me easily. He’s way more of out breath than me, but I know that won’t slow him down. He’s clearly not picked up on Han who he would have passed on his way in. Good. We still had the upper hand as long as Han was able to slip past Garrick once I let him catch me.

We pass what I assume to be the half way point, my knees starting to scream at me stop. So much for a graceful and planned fall. I was definitely seeing the healers when we got back. Finally Garrick catches up, his hand grasping my jacket as he pulls me back to him, pinning me between him and the wall. The air between us feels impossibly small, charged with something I can’t name. Garrick is close, too close. And his scent surrounds me, warm and intoxicating. It’s a mix of leather and smoky, grounded by the woodsy spice of cedar and sandalwood. A crisp breath of cool wind clings to him, like freedom and danger wrapped together.

”Didn’t think you’d get away from me that easily did you?” He mocks as he looms over me, his hands gripping my wrists tightly as he holds them to my sides.

I smirk up at him. “It took you a bit to catch up. Might need to work on your cardio.”

”I get plenty of cardio in thank you. Unless you’re offering to help out.” My now settling heartrate picking up as he takes a step in, making the already small space feel smaller.

”Your mares not doing a good enough job anymore?” I tease back, inwardly cringing knowing Han is hearing and seeing all of this. I just pray he think’s its to lure Garrick’s attention.

He chuckles at me, his hands loosening on my wrists just enough for his hand to graze mine. I feel the shift in signets due to my focus being elsewhere. Id started being able to shield against taking others signets. Some signets were easier than others. I just pray Han had gotten far enough away to not be heard now that I can’t muffle his movement. I didn’t like the feeling of Garrick’s signet washing over me. It felt unpleasant, uncomfortable. Maybe because it reminded me of that day, the screams echoing in the back of my mind.

”Maybe I don’t have any left now.” His tone shifting to slightly more serious.

”I’ll believe it when I see it.” I tell him as I cock my head to the side.

I know Austin had commented on it, but had he really changed? Part of me wants to believe he has. It would be nice for someone to do something for me. To pick me for once. But I barely knew Garrick and he barely knew me. Though with some of the things he’d done around me, I somehow felt like he know more about me than I’d let him know.

”Then just open your eyes and see for yourself then. The evidence is all there. Maybe you should come and see for yourself tonight. Celebrate my squad winning the squad battle.” His lips quirking up at the end.

By now Han would have easily made the top, there was easily enough of a gap for him to slip by when Garrick pushed me against the wall. Any second now that bell would ring out signalling our win.

”Rich words coming from someone who just lost.” I mock as I reach into my flight jacket.

As I grasp onto the material of the tent the bell above us sounds, Garrick walking up a few steps as he looks towards the top of the tower where Xaden rings the bell. Garrick turns his attention back to me and the piece of the tent I hold in my hands, his eyes going wide when he realises what I hold is not the white flag he’s meant to stop me from delivering.

”How?” He asks in disbelief.

I smile as I walk up a few steps, stopping on the step in front of him before turning towards him. “Maybe you should brush up on your knowledge of the signets in the Quadrant. Never know when it could come in handy.” Garrick purses his lips at me, clearly annoyed I’d out smarted him. Yet again I had proven him wrong, and just like the first time it felt just as satisfying. “Hey, maybe you can get one of your mares to come celebrate with you. They might settle for a second place.”

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01 @hyperfixation-train-station

[ssweeterthanfiction]

Hey is there any way you could do the reader takes on clients in order to protect Finnick? Like she goes behind his back and begs Snow until she can make everything stop for Finnick and then doesn’t tell him but eventually he finds out.

oh i am CONVINCED that finnick girlies THRIVE off of angst

AND ITS MY JOB TO SUPPLY YOU GUYS SOOOOO

My Angel

HEAVY content warnings: trafficking of victors, implied S/A, cheating accusations, angst

part one. | part two. (not necessary to read, but if you would like some background i would definitely suggest reading these first)

Finnick had noticed that something was off about you. For the past few weeks you'd been more skittish and distant.

At night when you both went to bed, he noticed that you no longer wanted to be held in his arms. In the mornings, instead of waking up next to him with a smile, you woke up with your back facing him, hiding a look of dread on your face. You no longer wanted to to go to the market or to the beach with him, only wanting to go alone.

You refused any sort of intimacy. Anytime he would go to hug you, kiss you, anything, you would flinch. Even with the lightest brush of a hand, you would flinch.

Your trips to the Capitol were more frequent and longer now too, but he didn't worry about that too much because he would always see pictures of you out and about, at interviews, photoshoots— the standard for any Victor.

You were both in the living room, you sitting in your arm chair, reading a book while he sat on the couch, fiddling around with a piece of rope. Silence filled the room.

He had offered for you both to go take a walk on the beach to watch the sunset, but you declined saying you were "tired and wanted to just stay inside for the night."

He watched as you read, he watched all your movements and tried to get a read of your emotions. Then he saw something strange.

But before he could get a better look, you stood up and made your way to the kitchen.

Finnick’s eyes followed you across the room, his gut twisting as his gaze laned on the small, barely-there mark on the side of your neck, he knew he hadn’t left a mark, with the way you'd been acting for the past week he'd be lucky if you let him hug you without you flinching. It was dark and a little red. A hickey. The sight of it made his heart clenched painfully in his chest.

Were you seeing someone else? Were you disgusted at what he told you that you felt the need to be with someone else?

Did you not love him anymore?

"Angel?" He called out softly, but you didn’t turn around. His voice cracked slightly as he repeated it again, louder this time, and you froze.

You turned, realizing what he may have seen, but it was too late. He had already seen it.

"Where did that mark come from?" Finnick’s voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper, but it carried the sharpness of someone who’d just realized something they weren’t ready to face. He couldn’t stop himself from stepping toward you, his feet carrying him across the room like an instinct.

You reached for the collar of your sweater to pull it higher, to hide it. “It’s nothing,” you mumbled.

"It's not nothing Angel."

You didn't know what to say, you didn't want to tell him the truth. "I- I hurt myself while I was swimming a few days ago."

He looked at you with a look of skepitcism, "No, don't lie to me."

Silence filled the room once more as you looked away from him. His mind was spiraling as a feeling of dread consumed him.

"Have you been cheating on me?"

Your head immediately shot back up. "W-What?"

Finnick took a deep breath. "Have you been cheating on me?" he says, his voice firm, his heart aching as he said it.

You shook your head, "No- No Finnick I-I'm not cheating on you-"

"Then where did the mark come from?" he says, his voice slightly raised.

You stayed quiet, something inside you was screaming to tell him the truth, but you just couldn't bring yourself to.

"Please angel. Please tell me you haven't been seeing someone else."

"Finnick please- it's not what you think-"

"Then what is it?! You've shut me out! I need you to talk to me! You've been so distant these past few weeks, you don't want to go anywhere with me, you don't want me to hold you anymore, you haven't even said 'I love you' to me in weeks!" he shouts.

His heart was breaking, if there was even the slightest chance that you were cheating, he didn't want to believe it.

"Angel. Baby. Please talk to me." he says in a desperate tone as he walks towards you, holding you in his arms.

You hesitate and take a shaky deep breath in, tears fill your eyes. "I-It's Snow" you whisper.

Finnick instantly feels a wave of fear wash over him. "Angel, what are you talking about?"

You close your eyes, shaking your head, a weak sob escaping as cling onto his arms, tears rolling down your cheeks.

He quickly cups your face in his hand, "Please talk to me angel, please." he says in a soothing tone, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

"I-I made a deal with Snow...that if I take on the extra clients you took on for me...you wouldn't have to deal with them anymore" you say as you burst into tears, holding tightly onto Finnick.

Finnick stood still, tears filled his eyes, his heart felt like it was breaking even more. Suddenly, everything made sense, why you flinched at his touches, why you distanced yourself from him. It all made sense.

He was quick to wrap you fully in his arms, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"Angel...why didn't you tell me. I would've been there for you."

You cling onto his shirt and cry, "I-I didn't want to be a burden...this was my deal with Snow.."

His heart just kept breaking. You, a burden? Never.

"My angel...you could never be a burden. Never." he says in a gentle tone as he kisses the top of your forehead.

He holds you close to his chest, letting you cry it all out.

"I-I hate it so much Finny- they hurt me- t-they treat me like I-I'm a toy. They laugh when I cry- they enjoy it."

Finnick’s world shattered at your words, he could your body shaking with sobs. “I know, Angel,” he whispered, his own tears slipping down his face as he kissed your forehead, his fingers tangling in your hair as he held you closer “I know."

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice muffled against his chest.

“Don’t apologize, it's not your fault angel,” Finnick murmured, kissing the top of your head. "Never think it's your fault."

For the first time in weeks, you finally felt like you could breathe again, wrapped in his arms, finally feeling the comfort you longed for. And for the rest of the night you would stay in his arms as he whispered endless comforting words to you.

A/N: MWHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEH (im crying like a bitch rn omg)

[persephone-writes]

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter Eighteen: Innamorati

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter Seventeen ☆ Series Masterlist

Description: Presents, dueling practice, and parties, oh my!

Word Count: 8.8k

Notes: I know that drinking games are more of an american thing, but I am simply choosing to ignore this fact because they are fun and no one can tell me they aren’t 

James had made his decision and it was final. Instead of getting drunk in the RoR to celebrate his birthday, he’d go out looking for the map once again. Unwilling to hear out any arguments, you all headed back to the tower, though not without some complaints from Sirius.

In the meantime, you waited with Lily and Marlene as the others went into the common room after dinner to check if Zephyr was there. You had insisted that it was fine if he was, given that you’d have to see them all eventually, though it made little difference. Luckily, the coast was clear, allowing you all to sit by the fire and celebrate in peace.

“Does it smell like fish in the Slytherin common room?” Marlene whispered to Remus, who was sitting beside her on the sofa. 

He shrugged. “Not really, no. Why do you ask?”

“Isn’t it half under the lake?”

You laughed, even more when she turned to you in confusion, her brows furrowed. “Even if it did, I’m sure it’d be charmed to take away the smell.”

James looked up from his spot on the floor where he was playing a game of exploding snap with Peter and Sirius, his face contorted in disgust. “Even if it’s charmed, it still stinks.”

You rolled your eyes. “It could smell like roses and frankincense and you’d say it was like a pile of hot rubbish.”

“It’s hurtful you’d even suggest—”

“We’ll skip you if you don’t stop flirting,” said Sirius, his arm propped on his leg as he smiled in that evil way he seemed to save only for your torment. 

Your ears went hot, your eyes shooting over to Lily in the armchair, still engrossed in her book. She did not look up, turning a page as James said something disparaging to Sirius. He turned back around, still bickering as he flipped over his card. A pop went off, a small explosion erupting in the middle of their circle. They all jumped back, the smoke lingering in the air as they hollered. 

*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*

You cringed as the floorboards squeaked under your feet, the early morning sunlight a shimmering yellow where it filtered in through the diamond window panes. No one sturred in their beds, not that you could hear, anyway. You continued towards the bathroom, only half awake and wishing you were still tucked underneath your blanket. Even the day after his birthday, which should’ve been spent sleeping in after a night of fun, James wanted to practice. 

“Tomorrow, six am. If you’re not at the staircase by then, I’ll figure out a way to come up.”

“Why six? Can’t we do it at seven or—”

“Sorry, sweetheart. I have practice at eight-thirty, then I have to actually start doing some schoolwork or I’ll flunk the N.E.W.T.s. And I meant it about figuring out a way up.”

You got ready as quickly as you could, fussing far too much over the way you looked given that you were seeing a friend under entirely unromantic circumstances. Still, you couldn’t help but stare a little longer in the mirror than usual, feeling as though you needed a cold shower. 

Beating away your nerves, you brought your bag with you, James’s birthday present safe inside. This would be the only time you’d get him alone today, and the thought of giving it to him in front of the others made your stomach drop. There was something that seemed too intimate about doing it in the company of anyone else, as if it would give you away, as demure as the gesture was. It was just a birthday gift, completely ordinary. 

Just as he said, James was waiting for you at the bottom of the girl’s staircase, twirling his wand like a drummer. He had tried to teach you how to do it once, though you never got the hang of it, always sending it flying across the room. 

When he heard you coming down he smiled, raising his brows at your tired eyes. 

“It’s not that early,” he said, putting his wand back in his pocket. “I could’ve made you get up at five.”

“They call it a holiday for a reason,” you groaned, though it only made him laugh. He led you to the portrait, holding it open for you as you stepped out. “Did you have any luck last night?” you asked. 

He shook his head, his smile leaving. “No, the door was locked. We couldn’t figure out a way to break it open. I think he got Flitwick to charm it, probably thinks we’ve been rummaging around in there.”

“The one time he’s a step ahead,” you said with a bitter chuckle. 

Filch always seemed to be well aware when they were up to something, though it was rare that he was able to catch up in time. It had been dumb luck he found the map, though there was little way he’d get anything from it. As James had once explained to you, “It knows who’s safe and who isn’t. It lets you in because we like you, same with Lily and Marlene and Dorcas. If anyone else tried to crack it, they’d better be marauders at heart.”

“Isn’t Remus good with locking spells?” you asked.

“Yeah, you should try to open his trunk. The things sealed like a vault at Gringotts,” he said, his smile slowly peeking through again. “We’ll get it back, it just might take a little longer than we hoped.”

James stopped at the tapestry while you jogged down the corridor to check if anyone was coming, a routine you had quickly gotten into over the course of the week. He began to walk back and forth, glancing back at you as the door appeared. 

“Maybe we’ll try bombarda next time,” he continued, pushing it open. “I doubt they accounted for that.”

You shook your head at him, holding the strap of your bag a little tighter as you entered the RoR. You stood still for a moment, building up your courage, pulling out the small package with a deep breath. You had wrapped it in scarlet paper, a tag with James’s name carefully placed in the corner. With a sheepish smile, you handed it to him before your anxiety got the best of you. 

“Happy birthday,” you said, your heart racing as you watched him consider it. 

He lifted his face, his eyes meeting yours. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

You knew he was being honest, though you weren’t sure you could take a back and forth with him. You tried to smile through your nerves, motioning to the present. “Nonsense. Now, open it.”

He sighed, ripping off the paper and tossing it on the floor beside him before opening the box. The joy in his expression grew as he took out the small transistor radio, experimentally pulling up the antenna. 

“It’s a muggle one,” you explained, fidgeting as he flipped it over in his hands. “My cousin is married to a muggle, and he’s a pretty good curse breaker, so he’s also decent at overriding some advanced charms. He’s been trying to figure out a way to make a radio pick up muggle stations at Hogwarts. He tried to explain how he finally did it in his letter, but I only understood about half of it,” you laughed, biting your lip as you watched his eyes widen.

“This will pick up muggle stations?” he asked, his voice on the brink of exclamation. 

You nodded, his excitement infectious. 

He quickly turned it on, raising the volume as he flipped through the stations. After a bit, he stopped on one playing an advertisement for carpet cleaner, looking more happy than anyone in the world upon hearing a sales pitch. 

“Turn it to something good,” you laughed, moving to stand beside him as you watched the needle move along the display. 

He flipped through the stations again, stopping every once in a while when the static cleared. He settled on one playing an old song, the piano slow, the singer even slower, his smooth voice pouring from the little speaker just before the trumpet came to replace it. He was singing about love, maybe his own, but it felt like it was about yours. 

James seemed to settle into something more tranquil, though not completely without his usual energy. He set the radio down, holding out his hand and wiggling his fingers as if he had any need to entice you. 

You knew you shouldn’t, that being close to him was a surefire way to get you a flustered, nervous mess, though you didn’t care. You rolled your eyes as if that would make it better, letting your bag fall from your shoulders and onto the floor. He took your hand, pulling you closer to place his other on your back. You couldn't help but laugh, ignoring the way his shoulder felt beneath your hand, the way he swayed you back and forth, leading you where he wanted to go. He’d always been a good dancer, though you’d never danced with him like this, the way you’ve dreamt of a hundred times before. It was better than a dream, for in your dreams you hadn’t felt his warmth or seen the look on his face so vividly as he pushed you back out to spin you. 

“I take it you like your present?” you asked, desperately needing something to say. At any moment you thought your heart might explode, filled with a deep, gnawing pain. 

“You should keep it,” he said, not letting you go even as the song changed. “Your cousin gave it to you. I don’t think it’s right for me to have it.”

Your feet moved faster with the new beat, more swinging this time, upbeat and less breathy. James’s moves became sloppier, though you suspected it was on purpose. 

“It’s your birthday present, I gave it to you to keep,” you said, “I have one at home, anyway.” 

“Not one that works at school,” he argued.

“Just say thank you and keep it,” you said, watching as he paused to listen to the song.

“I like this one. Who is it?”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” you said, a noise of surprise leaving you as he pushed you out again, grabbing your other hand to pull you towards him, your back against his chest. He poked his head beside yours, laughing at your reaction. You swallowed, your fear that he could feel your racing heart becoming stronger and stronger the longer he held you. “Where’d you learn to dance?” you asked, hoping he wouldn’t notice. 

“Call me a natural,” he teased, spinning you again so you could dance normally. 

You tried to act nonchalant, letting go of his hand as you took a step back. You went over to the radio, switching it off, the RoR falling back into silence. When you turned to him, he was still chuckling, an acknowledgment that you could get each other to do things that you would normally fight against tooth and nail. You wondered how much would change if he knew it was because you loved him.  

“We should get on with it,” you said, checking your watch, “we’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Ouch. Tell me how you really feel.”

You went to the other side of the room, hitting his arm as you passed him, the smell of his hair still fuzzy in your head. 

*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*

To prevent it getting confiscated by McGonagall, Filch, or any other Hogwarts killjoy, you and James decided to keep the radio a secret between you and the others. When James presented Sirius with it in their dormitory after quidditch practice, he told you with quite the smile that, “you would’ve thought I was showing him the philosopher’s stone.” Thus, it became the talk of the day, or rather the week, all of you lamenting the fact that Dorcas wasn’t there to share in the glory of your gift. 

However, not all was well. There was nothing you could do to avoid your villainous classmates, so you went on the best you could. Zephyr had been ostracized by the entire student body of Gryffindor due to his being a part of some scheme with the Slytherins to harm you. No one knew the details of Zephyr’s involvement, though you assumed it didn’t take much more than the scene in the common room to connect the dots, as well as his sudden increase in time he spent with the Slytherins instead of his own house. 

The memory of Mulciber’s previous attacks and general odiousness towards muggle borns, or just those who sympathized, was fresh amongst your house-mates, making Zephyr’s friendship with Mulciber more than enough to brand him a traitor. Mulciber and his gang had accepted him fully into their ranks, roaming the corridors with him by their side as if he had always been there. Since Monday, the common room grew dead quiet whenever he walked through the portrait hole, slithering back to the staircase with his eyes cast down to his feet in a useless attempt to hide himself from view.

Just as James had said, you practiced dueling every single day for the remainder of the Easter holiday. You weren’t sure where he got the time, though he always had some spared for you. On Sunday afternoon you and James headed to the RoR, savoring the last of your free time before classes began again. 

“Let’s see what you got,” James said, grinning wickedly from across the room.

You were already in your position, your feet moving on instinct as you made the first move. “Bombarda!” James leapt out of the way of the explosion, giving you another chance to attack before he’d counter. “Relashio.”

James’s wand whipped in front of him, unaffected by your spell. “Oscsusi!”

You blocked it, shaking your head at him. It was a charm to seal the opponents mouth, his way of telling you that you weren’t practicing your non verbal spells enough. 

You wordlessly cast the binding charm, the ropes momentarily winding around him before he said the counter curse, dashing like a bolt of lightning to the other side of the room. You were getting rather good at the shield charm, blocking his next spell just in time. 

You could see him moving again, so quick you could barely think. In your panic, you reverted back to your old ways of low level hexes and jinxes, “Locomotor mortis!”

Just as James’s legs buckled beneath him, he flicked his wand again. “Flipendo!”

You heard James cast Arresto Momentum as you flew backwards through the air, though he was too late. You landed hard on the floor, knocking the wind out of your lungs. Your ears buzzed, the sound of him shouting your name muffled by the high pitched ringing. Pain radiated from the back of your skull as you tried to sit up, the initial shock fading as you remembered this was meant to be a duel. You attempted to look around for your wand, though you were soon distracted by James running towards you. He threw himself onto the ground, his hand coming to cradle your head as the other arm wrapped around your back. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said, the words pouring from him in a frenzy. “Godric, I didn’t mean to, I tried to stop you—”

“It’s okay,” you croaked, the cobwebs beginning to clear. 

You rubbed your aching temple, James’s face no longer blurry in your vision. His brows were pinched, his mouth ajar as his eyes darted down over your figure, searching for injuries. 

“What hurts?” he asked in the same manner. “I’ll take you to Poppy—”

“I just got turned around, s’all,” you began, moving to stand. “I’ll be fine in a second.”

He gently held your shoulder down, not allowing you to get up. Before you could protest, both his hands came to the side of your face, leaning in closer to peer into your eyes. You held your breath, frozen as you saw your reflection in his glasses. 

“Look at me,” he said softly, maneuvering your face towards him. His eyes continued to stare into yours, looking for what, you did not know. 

“What’re you doing?” you asked, barely able to bring yourself to speak. You hoped he didn’t feel the warmth of your cheeks, blazing as he touched you. 

“Checking your pupils,” he answered with a frown. “They’re huge, you might have a concussion. I’m taking you to the Hospital Wing.” 

“They’re just like that sometimes. They’ll be normal in a minute,” you said, pushing his hands away. You were weak, though he allowed you to remove them, still in a state of anxiety.  

“I’ll wait five minutes,” he said firmly, “and if they’re not back to normal by then, we’re going.”

You buried your face in your hands, rubbing your eyes. “What will we say happened?”

“You could have a concussion and you’re worried that Poppy might catch onto us?”

You placed your hands onto the ground, swaying a bit as the pain continued to throb. “You’ve never been nervous enough.”

He paused, watching you so intently you were convinced your pupils would never return to normal, nor would your heart. You looked down to escape his gaze, though you could still feel it, heavy like lead. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he said again, ignoring your earlier implication. 

Your name on his lips was a welcomed sound, even if it meant you had to get thrown to the floor. Your eyes drifted back to his, though you knew it was a mistake, his expression so full of dread it made you question if you had blood pouring from your nose. You rubbed it just to make sure, though your sleeve came back clean. 

“It’s really all right,” you began, “I just wasn’t quick enough. Call it good practice.”

“You’re mad,” he sighed, his hand coming up to touch your shoulder, stopping just short. “What hurts?”

“Just my head,” you answered, not knowing if you were dizzy from the fall or from his face, perfect right in front of you. 

He touched your shoulder, warm even through your shirt. You felt his fingers flexing as they held you, making you feel as if you might faint at any second. After just a few moments it was too much, the realization that you were alone more frightening than it ought to have been. You had thought you were better than this, that you had things under control, though now you were worse than ever before. 

“I’m feeling better all ready,” you said, hoping, praying he’d take his hand off of you. 

James was unconvinced, his mouth still tight. “What’s thirteen times nine?”

You groaned, “I’ve always been bad at arithmetic.” When he gave you another serious look you rolled your eyes, taking a deep breath as you thought. “A hundred seventeen”

He seemed pleased, at least for the time being, taking his hand from your shoulder so you could stand. You relished in the distance, though what you really wanted was some fresh air, crisp in your lungs. The pain was lessening, the throbbing mostly gone. James held your arm as you steadied yourself, letting it go as you thanked him softly. He didn’t chastise you for saying it, another act of mercy. 

“Let me check,” he said, forcing his face in front of yours. 

Perhaps to repay him, you didn’t fight, letting him look into your eyes. 

“You’ll be all right,” he said, stepping away. “No concussion for you.”

“Maybe next time,” you joked in a feeble attempt to lighten the dull mood that had settled around each of you. 

He didn’t laugh, going over to pick up your wand which had rolled away.

“I’ll give you a day off,” he said, finally smiling a bit as he handed it to you, “but we’re back here on Wednesday after classes.”

You swallowed down something, whether it was pride or fear you did not know, allowing your gaze to be selfish. James’s sleeves were pushed up, a lovely, cherished sight. You found yourself settling on his hands, always busy, tapping on desks, fiddling with his wand, brushing through his hair. You drifted over to his lips, barely curled upwards, just for you. Did the fondness in his expression, the tender way his hands touched you mean what the cards seemed to point to, what Marlene had been telling you? Was Remus right? 

“C’mon, let’s go back,” he said, opening the door for you. You followed, walking with him down the empty corridor towards the common room.

“Thank you again— for helping me get better at dueling,” you said, though the words seemed to drift away from you, swirling toward the high ceilings.

He turned to look at you with a smile, soft and small but no less touching. Something flashed across his eyes, a ray of blinding, beautiful light. Then, it was gone, leaving only a crushing affection, an impossibly excruciating ache. 

“Anything for you.”

*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*

Peter gave you a supportive nod as you walked into History of Magic on Monday morning, knowing who’d already be at his desk. Wilkes, who you had only seen here and there about the castle over the holiday, turned around as you and Peter went to your seats, his eyes dark as they followed you. Professor Binns’s corpeal figure was floating two and fro in front of the chalkboard, muttering something to himself. You tightened your jaw as you forced your eyes to remain ahead, pulling out your things from your bag.

A few more students filtered in as class began, Binns scribbling something onto the board before he spun around, continuing his leisurely pace about the room with little attention paid to his class. 

“The history of Dai Ryusaki’s amulet prior to his death is largely unknown, though there have been a host of theories explored by both the Ministry and independent researchers…”

You rushed out of class when the bell rang, ready to make a mad dash down the corridor before someone grabbed your arm, spinning you back around. Sirius had caught you, standing beside James, Remus, Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas. Your eyes widened, catching the expletive that had been caught in your throat. Unlike yourself, Peter noticed the group lingering just outside the door, looking just as confused as you were. 

“What’re you all doing here?” he asked. 

James’s gaze darted towards Wilkes, walking out of the classroom with a menacing glance in your direction. James narrowed his eyes, Wilkes turning back around with a smug smile.

“I told you I’d be all right,” you said, crossing your arms. 

“We were going this way anyway,” Lily said, though she’d always been a bad liar. 

You sighed, spinning on your heels to walk down the corridor towards the Great Hall. “C’mon, let's go to lunch.”

“Shouldn’t you be going that way?” James said, motioning down in the opposite direction. 

You shook your head. “McGonagall told me this morning I could eat in the Great Hall again.”

“No, no, no, wait.” James grabbed your shoulder, forcing you to look at him, seemingly utterly outraged at the suggestion. “Are you mad? You can’t eat in the Great Hall with them walking around.”

Lily sighed, “James, if McGona—”

“I agree with him,” Remus interrupted, giving Lily an apologetic look. She didn’t seem to take it very well, her lips pulling to one side as she eyed him.

“I’m eating in the Great Hall, end of discussion,” you said with a final glance at the others. James, who was still extremely hesitant, was not at all swayed by your words. “Lily’s right, it’ll be fine,” you said to him.

He took his hand from your shoulder, slumping as he allowed you to continue towards the Great Hall. 

“I go away for two weeks and everything goes to shit,” Dorcas huffed, breaking a period of short, tense silence. 

You smiled, unsure if it was from joy or misery. “Tell me about it.”

Walking into the Great Hall felt odd. It was as if you hadn’t been there in years, the endless clinking of silverware a long forgotten chorus that used to fill your ears three times a day. Instinctively, you looked towards the Slytherin table, scanning it to see if any of the conspirators, as Marlene had so aptly named them, were there. Severus was sitting with his back to the door, though you’d recognize his hair anywhere, stringy where it hung at his neck. Wilkes was just going up to the table to sit across from him beside Mulciber, the rest of their gaggle already digging into their food. Regulus was one of them, smaller compared to the others, not unlike Snape in his countenance. You wondered when the last time he and his brother had spoken, given that they had not lived in the same house for two years now. 

Fearing Mulciber would look up and catch you staring, your eyes shot away, continuing down the aisle towards a free spot at the Gryffindor table. 

James watched on warily as you put food onto your plate, fidgeting when you went to take a bite. “I don’t like this,” he said suddenly.

Startled, you lowered your fork, staring at him across the table. He was glaring at your food with an intensity that seemed to suggest that he knew, for certain, it had been tampered with. 

“I’m sure Dumbledore took care of it,” Lily whispered to him.

He took his own fork, leaning forward to take a mouthful of your food. Before you could react, he was sitting back down in his seat, chewing as his eyes darted this way and that, trying to determine whether or not he’d drop dead in the next few seconds. You all sat with bated breath, frozen until he swallowed. 

“I feel fine,” he said, though not without another uneasy glance towards your plate. 

You let out a sigh of relief, even though you were quite sure it was perfectly fine to begin with.

“Now, what if it had been poisoned?” Lily chided.

He shrugged, looking rather proud of his own bravery. “I would’ve been a hero, probably have gotten an award.”

“Dunce of the year,” Remus mumbled, snickering into his glass.

Sirius snorted, turning to James with a smirk. “If you drop like a fish within the next forty-eight hours, I’m not reviving you.”

“He’s not going to ‘drop like a fish,’” Lily said, entirely unamused.

“He might do that on his own,” Dorcas chuckled.

The group erupted in laughter, other than Lily, who was still in a twist over James’s continued recklessness. 

“Thank you,” you said to James as the ruckus died down, “but if you do that again, I’ll poison you myself.”

*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*

With your scarf wrapped tightly around your neck, you once again sat squished between Lily and Marlene in the Gryffindor quidditch stands, waiting for the match to begin. This time around, James, Sirius, and Dorcas were in front of you, each hoping for Hufflepuff to kick Slytherin’s butt into oblivion. Corey Luxfire was back in play, meaning that they actually had a shot this time. 

Each team came flying onto the pitch, the Hufflepuffs roaring as Corey whizzed beside their stands. Even the Gryffindors went wild when their seeker, Poppy Dunwood, did a loop around the goals, circling back towards the center. 

However, you all went quiet as the Slytherin team passed by, Regulus swooping down in front of his house's stands, met with enthusiastic roars. His hair was black like his brothers, though cut far shorter, clean and crisp as every proper young wizard’s of the twenty-eight should be. Sirius turned away as he flew by you to the pitch, hovering above his team across from Poppy. 

Below, Monsieur Button started the game, the players flying off when the quaffle was tossed into the air. 

Instantly, Regulus went for the snitch, whipping around to chase it towards the grass, Poppy hot on his trail. The Ravenclaw’s all craned their heads up as Regulus flew over, circling their tower before he came back down again into the pitch. In the meantime, a Hufflepuff chaser was in possession of the quaffle, throwing it to Corey who took it under his arm, weaving through the Slytherins towards the goal. 

Regulus shot by the Gryffindor stands, losing sight of the snitch as it disappeared past the crowd. 

“Score for Hufflepuff, ten to nothing!” said Atticus Bundleby through the speakers.

The Hufflepuffs erupted in cheers, their banners and flags waving in the air. James, Sirius, and Dorcas stood, hollering as the Slytherin keeper threw the quaffle back into play. The others were not much better, particularly Marlene, who had begun cursing out specific members of the Slytherin team. Lily knocked her shoulder, scowling at her poor behavior. 

“What?” Marlene said, seeing no problem with her choice of language.

Lily shook her head, wrapping her coat around her tighter as she turned back towards the game.

It was a while before Poppy and Regulus spotted the snitch again, nestled near the base of the Hufflepuff tower. Poppy flew underneath a scuffle, a bludger nearly throwing her from her broom. A beater swooped it, blocking it from hitting her in the nick of time, sending it hurling back towards a Slytherin chaser. 

Regulus moved ahead of her, dashing towards the snitch as it went off, zigzagging up towards the students. He flew higher and higher in pursuit, soon becoming small in the face of the sky. This time, Sirius spun around to watch, Poppy flying past in an attempt to catch up. 

“Slytherin scores! It’s one-hundred twenty to eighty, Hufflepuff!”

Poppy was just behind Regulus, inching closer and closer, the snitch near enough to catch. Suddenly, Regulus moved to the side, slowing down just enough to make Poppy jerk back, spinning out and nearly falling off her broom. 

“Dunwood’s falling from her— she’s back up! Black is gaining on the snitch!”

The entirety of the student body had turned away from the pitch to watch the seekers, Regulus following the snitch with odd, random movements as it made it’s attempts to lose him. You glanced at Sirius, his eyes still locked on his brother as his hands curled into tight fists. 

Dorcas was shouting, waving her hands in the air, “C’mon, shake ‘em you hunk of metal!”

“Slytherin scores again! One hundred twenty to ninety, Hufflepuff— Looks like Dunwood’s back in the game!”

“C’mon Poppy!” James called, nearly jumping up and down. He grasped Peter’s shoulders, shaking him silly in his exhilaration. You remembered a time not too long ago when he was praying for her failure, though he’d wish for just about anything if it meant Slytherin would lose. 

Poppy made a valiant effort to catch up, nearly beside Regulus, though she was too late. He grabbed the snitch, holding it up in the air in his triumph. Sirius’s fists loosened, his fingers splaying out for a split second before they returned to their normal, relaxed state. 

“Black captures the golden snitch! Slytherin wins two-forty to one-twenty!”

Dorcas threw her arms down with a groan, “Motherfucker!”

Regulus flew back down towards his team, who surrounded him with cheers of their own. You tried to pick out his expression, though he was too far away, only a vague blur of green robes and dark hair. You watched him for as long as you were able, soon pulled away by Lily as you all went to exit the stands. 

“Two-forty, do you think you can make that up?” Peter asked as you made your way towards the castle over the lawn.

“Yeah, but we’ll have to hustle,” James said, turning to Dorcas and Sirius. “You hear that? I want you two all in these next few months. Their defense is still weak, but Regulus is good.”

“Are you doubting my skills?” Dorcas said, raising her brows.

“You did miss two weeks of drills,” Sirius teased. 

Dorcas scoffed, “I don’t need drills.”

James went to argue, though Marlene’s dramatic, drawn out groan cut him off. 

“This party’s gonna be such a drag,” she said, her shoulders slumping. “I hate it when Slytherin wins, it puts everyone in a bad mood.”

Dorcas threw an arm around her shoulders, smiling down at her. “Don’t say that. We might be able to get James pissed enough to dance.” 

Everyone started snickering, though James only grumbled to himself, his cheeks growing a little more red. If anyone were to point it out, he’d say it was from the cold. 

You leaned against the doorframe of the lavatory, watching Marlene coat her lashes in Madam Wink’s Miracle Mascara. Lily and Dorcas had already gone down to the common room, though Marlene had insisted someone stay with her as she did the long, laborious task of getting ready. 

“How many coats was that?” you groaned, watching as she pristinely applied what seemed like the twentieth. 

She put the wand back in its tube, smirking at you through the mirror. “Why? Do you think I need another?”

“No.”

She still had a look of mischief on her face as she pulled out her lip glass and applied it, far too proud of whatever she was about to say. 

“You and James have been pretty cozy,” she began, raising her brows. “How has your training been?”

You made a noise of disgust, your lip curling in a vain attempt to hide your embarrassment. “James teaching me how to duel is totally, completely platonic and you know it.” 

She turned to face you with a sentimental, sickly sweet expression, completely ignoring your assertion. “He’s been so worried about you like you’re already married. It makes me want to be sick,” her tone could not have been more different from her words, genuine in her happiness for you. 

“What a lovely image, Marls,” you said, full of dry sarcasm.  

“Do you know what he said to Sirius the other day?” she said, her eyes sparkling with the joy of someone who knew something of a scandalous nature. It made your palms itch. “James told him that you’re an excellent dancer.”

“Do you and Sirius talk about me behind my back?” you asked, less offended than you were horrified. 

She shrugged, throwing her lip gloss back into her bag. “Not often.”

You shook your head, trying to forget the frightening new information that Marlene and Sirius were gossiping about you and James. You could only imagine what sorts of conniving plans they were coming up with. 

“Anyway, that's a lie like no other,” you scoffed. “Are you sure he said ‘excellent’?”

She didn’t reply, brushing past you to retrieve her wand on her bed. “One galleon he asks you to dance tonight.”

“Only one? You can’t be that confident.”

She rolled her eyes, motioning for you to follow as she headed to the door. “Come on, let me make you one of my masterpieces.”

Well into the night you were nursing one of Marlene’s concoctions, red and vaguely shimmering, tasting of cranberry and something else unplaceable though undeniably good. The music was playing, some new single they’d been looping all week on the wizard radio stations. In front of you, Sirius, Dorcas, Remus, and James were playing Sparks, a game originating in the twisted mind of Remus Lupin. You and Peter took to watching, Lily and Marlene spinning around with a group of equally drunk students by the speaker. 

The rules of Sparks were ever-changing and increasingly complicated, though it mainly consisted of flipping a coin, shooting sparks from your wand if it landed heads, with the slowest having to drink. However, if there were four tails in a row, the first person to shoot two sparks could choose someone to take a shot of firewhiskey. Remus usually came out just fine, Dorcas did not. At least they weren’t doing shot for shot. 

“I’m going to kill you, Lupin,” Dorcas gritted, moving to pour herself a shot. 

Remus smiled as she grimaced at the taste. “Wanna quit?”

“Never.” She slammed her glass down onto the table, steely as she stared at him.

Unprompted by the game, James downed whatever was left in his glass, looking around at you all expectantly. “All right, who’s dancing?”

“Is it that time already?” Sirius taunted.

James, likely too buzzed to take notice, waited for someone to answer his call. Peter, who you were pretty sure never danced a day in his life, did not move an inch, nor did Remus.

“I’m finishing this even if it kills me,” said Dorcas, her wand still in her hand, ready to take action. 

“Don’t make me go out there alone!” James whined. 

Sirius smirked again, devious and unnerving. “I’m sure Y/N wants to,” he drawled, turning to you. 

Your head, fuzzy and light, swarmed with the memory of two Tuesdays ago, the sound of the muggle crooner in the RoR, the weight of his hand in yours. You could hear Sirius’s guitar, Carly Simon, the sight of James's crooked glasses, feeling the rush as he dipped you. 

You chuckled nervously, shrinking into yourself. “I don’t know…”

“C’mon, you’re my favorite, remember?” James said, slouching forward. 

You thought you might die. “Okay, just for one—”

James put his glass down onto the table, taking yours and doing the same before he led you towards the group that had clustered around the radio, charmed to play louder than designed. He was burning up, the heat rising up to your shoulder and well into your chest, hammering as you neared Lily and Marlene. You wanted to run, for there were too many people, too many possibilities to make a fool of yourself. 

When Lily noticed you two she squealed, having breached that point in the night where almost everything made her delighted. She did some silly, twirling move as James spun you not unlike he had before, pushing you out only to pull you back in again. His curls, wild from the long night, caught the light in a way that made your knees feel like jelly. You noticed Marlene watching you with a cocky smile, a precursor to all the “I told you so’s” you’d have to hear whenever she got you alone. 

“I don’t need spells, I don’t need charms, I just want you in my arms, you’re the greatest witch that I have ever seen…”

It was a cheesy song, perfect for dancing and not for listening. Through the noise, a few Gryffindors called to James the way only he received, a liquor fueled affinity for the way he effortlessly charmed the world. He was James Potter: Head Boy, quidditch captain, the life-breath of every shindig who seemed to be known and adored by everyone (other than the Slytherins). But you, you were his favorite, at least to dance with. You weren’t sure how much you could trust his words given the state he was in, though you took them to heart anyway, holding to them as if they were gospel. I’m his favorite. 

Slowly, you relaxed, giving way to the unserious manner in which James danced, a thousand different styles melded together into something entirely his own. Lily took you away after a few songs, shouting the lyrics as she danced. You did the same, mumbling half of them and not caring how your voice sounded. It was drowned out by the music and chatter anyway, blocked by the muffliato charm at the door. 

As you spun around with her, James took both your hands, tugging you back with a laugh. Marlene took your place with the same look as before, watching as James led you in a quasi-swing dance, messy steps that barely went with the song. Your perception of time was warped, the music melting into one great, endless ballad. You could’ve been there for ten minutes or ten hours, lost in its false infinity. 

Just as James pulled you closer, ready to sway with the funky beat of a new song, he stiffened, stopping completely as he glared across the room. You glanced behind you, unconsciously squeezing his hand tighter as you saw Zephyr walk inside, weaving through the crowd. Students whispered to one another, looking at him sideways as he passed, heading towards the staircase. 

James’s eyes shot back to yours, filled with concern as he leaned in closer to speak into your ear, “Want to go?”

All you did was nod. 

You didn’t feel drunk enough for this. In fact, you were less than tipsy, your head far too clear to handle the way everyone seemed to turn away from Zephyr towards you and James leaving the huddle of dancers. Lily and Marlene each called out your name, though you only glanced back, hidden from their sight by the crowd. 

As soon as James got you out of the common room he pulled the cloak from his pocket, throwing it over you both. Any other time you would’ve questioned why he was walking around with the cloak at a party, as well as the fact that it seemed as though everyone had illegally charmed their pockets but you. You were also surprised he was taking you out after curfew without the map, though you didn’t question it, lest he change his mind. 

“Where are we going?” you whispered, trying to ignore the way your shoulders pressed together. 

He didn’t try to hide his worry, his brows pinched as he looked at you in the low light. “Where do you want to go?”

You thought for a moment, though the need to get away from Gryffindor Tower was greater than you desire to pick the perfect spot. The piles of dust covered furniture in the Room of Requirement was entirely unappealing, as were any of the passageways you’d sometimes hide away in. 

“The Astronomy Tower,” you answered finally.

James smiled softly, beginning to walk down the corridor towards the main castle. “Exquisite choice.” 

You peeked out of the cloak upon arriving at the tower, saying the password given to all N.E.W.T. level Astronomy students so they could access the viewing deck for study, “Six hundred eighty-five thousand over pi.”

Once inside, James threw off the cloak, shoving it back into his pocket as he stared at you in confusion. “What’s the password mean?”

“It’s the equation for how long a parsec is in meters,” you said, chuckling as he continued to look as if you were speaking a different language. 

“What’s a parsec?”

You kept your laughter down the best you could as you continued up the steps, the ceiling twinkling above you. “A little over three lightyears.”

You didn’t reach for your wand when you made it up, relishing the cold air on your bare skin. Instantly, being there made it seem as if the common room was halfway across the world, the noise gone, Zephyr just a distant memory. James followed as you went to the railing, your head craned up to look at the stars. It was nearly the new moon, leaving the sky naked of its usual, vibrant glow. Still, the milky way was painted pale pink and purple, fading out into dark blue, sprinkled with a million stars like specks of glittering paint. 

You each stayed there unspeaking, suspended in the hazy hours of Sunday morning, a time in which all things either felt entirely lovely or entirely awful. This moment was the former. 

James’s pinky brushed yours, though he pulled it away before you could savor it. Swallowing, he briefly glanced at the side of your face before looking away again. 

“I’ve always been bad at constellations,” he said, soft as if to slowly break the silence, little by little. “I know Orion and Ursa Major, but that's about it.”

“At least you paid attention in first year Astronomy,” you said, your smile growing without you realizing. You pointed towards a star, radiant amongst the others. “See that one?”

James followed your line of sight, poking his head beside yours. 

“That’s Regulus, the lion's heart. If you follow it up, it’ll make the Sickle, which is Leo’s head. Back there is Denebola, the tail. April is a good month to see Leo.”

When you looked back at him, you weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to look away again. 

He smiled, more lovely than any constellation. “How do you remember them all?”

“I don’t know,” you began. “It’s like remembering spells. If you use them enough, after a while it becomes second nature. I’ve always liked the muggle stories, though. They help.”

His eyes brightened. “What’s the story for Leo?”

“Lots of questions,” you teased. 

He bumped your shoulder, glancing back at the sky. “Is it a crime to be curious?”

You rolled your eyes, still studying his profile. “You know who Hercules is, right?”

“Big strong guy?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “Long story short, Hera didn’t like Hercules, so one day she made him go mad and murder his wife and children. Hercules was ridden with guilt, so to atone for his sins he went to serve his cousin, King Eurystheus, for twelve years. Once he did this, he’d be rewarded with immortality. At first King Eurystheus gave him ten labors to do, but it actually ended up being twelve in the end. Again, long story,” you paused, trying to regain your train of thought.

“Anyway, the first of the labors was to kill the Nemean Lion and bring back its fur. At first, Hercules tried to shoot it with arrows, but they bounced right off. So, he blocked off one entrance to its cave and snuck in the other, strangling it with his bare hands. But, when he tried to skin it, knives couldn’t cut through. Athena came and told him to use its claws, which worked. After that, he wore its skin throughout the other labors because it was stronger than armor. Then, y’know, he did all the other labors and became a hero.”

“Think I could strangle a lion with my bare hands?” James asked with a laugh. 

“No,” you said, pretending to think it over. “Maybe a toad or something.”

He leaned his arms on the railing, hanging his head as if you’d ripped his heart out. “You’re so awful to me.” 

“You’ll forgive me,” you said, used to his dramatics after all this time. 

After a beat he stood back up, shivering as a gust of wind blew past the tower. 

“Aren’t you cold?” he asked, placing his hand on top of yours, running his thumb over your knuckles. He took it away too soon for your liking, leaving you longing for the feeling of his palm.

“No, the cold feels good,” you said, your head growing light again as he turned to face you fully. You were filled with an inescapable desire to confess, spurred on by the way you felt halfway in a dream, as if anything you said now only existed here, safe from consequence. But, even if you did speak, what could you say? How could you possibly word it, a thing so simple yet so unbelievably complicated? I love you, I think I always have. 

James spoke before you had a chance to take the plunge, though part of you wished he hadn’t, “You’re a good dancer, you know,” he paused, his smile like the sun, illuminating the night. “And you’re the only one that’ll humor me.”

You looked at him as if he had gone insane. “How drunk are you?”

“Practically sober.”

Something about his reply reminded you of his animagus form, as if he’d sprout antlers at any moment. You studied him with great suspicion, noting his ruddy cheeks, though it could’ve been from the chill. 

“I mean it!” he said, growing more impassioned. “My last drink was an hour and a half ago, and I wasn’t that bad then. Didn’t want to get too pissed with Zephyr running around.”

“I thought you only danced when you were drunk,” you challenged. 

“I danced with you two weeks ago when I was sober,” he paused, his features softening. “How about you?”

“Stone cold,” you said, perfectly honest. “Don’t tell Marlene, though. She made me a dozen drinks, but I kept pawning them off onto Remus.”

“I won't,” he chuckled, pausing after a moment to lick his lips, gone dry with the wind. “Anything for you, remember?”

Of course you remembered, you had thought about it every day since he said it. You wracked your brain for a suitable reply, though all you came up with was “I love you”. 

“James, I,” you trailed off, heady with the sight of him, his words, the way he seemed to take you in.

For a moment you really did think it was a dream, because he was looking at you the way you had caught him in the courtyard, endeared to you like no other. Now, however, it wasn’t going away, remaining as he took a step closer, his hands coming to your cheeks. He touched you just as tenderly as he had in the RoR, his fingers brushing along your ears, his gaze bouncing from your eyes to your lips. You stared back up at him, perhaps with the same expression.

In a split second he closed the distance, the world blooming as he kissed you. He moved his hands down to your waist, yours finding their way across his shoulders, towards the nape of his neck where they threaded through his hair. He held you fervently, delicate as if you were a rare, treasured gift. Deep within you something stirred like a gavel striking, a single word ringing out in place of a bang: finally. It was perfect, better than all the times you had imagined it, greater than any book you’d ever read. 

As soon as you parted, your head rushing and your heart swelling with absolute bliss, the realization felt more like being struck with an anvil. You just kissed James.

“Mother of Merlin,” you gasped, still staring into his eyes. They were blown out and beautiful, though it didn’t stop you from taking a step back. “You absolute tosser,” you mumbled to yourself, the world spinning all around you, dizzying in the worst way. You felt like you were going to be sick. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his expression pained and rather awkward. “I’m sorry, I thought you wanted—”

You paced back and forth, adrenaline coursing through you. “No, I did. That's the worst part.”

“I have to say, I’m a little offended,” he said, looking at you as if suffering from a dull, ever-present injury, more annoying than it was excruciating. 

“That’s not what I meant,” you sighed, preoccupied with the stark juxtaposition between your immense happiness and equal regret. 

Flabbergasted and obviously unsure how to proceed, he slowly neared you again, forcing you to meet his eyes. “What is it? Is it something I did?” he asked carefully. 

Your lips still tingled, your stomach buzzing with the aftermath of your most folly, foolish wish come true. You loved him, and at the very least, he fancied you back. 

“Lily,” was all you could say, her name coming out broken and shameful. 

He furrowed his brows, his mouth ajar. “What about her?”

“Lily,” you repeated, attempting to convey the seriousness of your crimes, though it did not seem to have the intended effect. “You and I, we can’t, not when—” you cut yourself off, huffing as you brought the heels of your hands to your eyes. 

“You think because I dated Lily we can’t be together?” 

You nodded, your fingers blocking your sight of him. You couldn’t bear to look, not when he was everything you ever wanted. 

He gently held your hands, saying your name as he brought them away. 

“Of course we can,” he began, ducking down so you would have to look at him. “She won’t care, not a bit, not when,” he faltered, shaking his head as he reached up to touch your cheek. “She can’t be upset with a man in love.”

You soared. “You’re in love with me?”

“Of course I am,” he began, smiling wider. “I’ve told you before.”

Elation washed over you, the stars seeming to shine brighter over you both, dazzling in their celestial waltz. In an instant, you forgot about all the reasons why you shouldn’t, only able to recall why you should. 

Breathless, you lifted the weight that had been upon you for far too long, “I love you too.”

“Thank Godric,” he chuckled, rubbing a thumb along your temple. “I was getting nervous for a minute.”

“You love me,” you whispered, mostly to yourself, as if trying to cast it in stone. 

“Please let me kiss you again, or I think I might die,” his voice was ardent, bursting at the seams with a nearly theatrical plea for your attention. 

You rolled your eyes. “So dramatic—”

He cut you off, pressing his lips to yours. He was careful with you, nearly chaste, cradling your jaw as your noses bumped. You fisted your hands in his jumper, no plans of letting go.

*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*

Tag List: @floverisland @ilovejamespottersomuch @googie-jeon @tvnile

[girlnextvore]

OC Deep Dive - Rosa Núñez

What common/uncommon fear do they have?

In life Rosa feared commitment very very deeply but was in a cycle of doing NOTHING about it. She dated the girl her parents picked out for her (as a man at that point) and was even ready to propose cause her dad said it was time

In her vampire life Rosa fears killing on accident very deeply, she sees it as the final showing she is no longer her own person. She also has a fear of deep water. And being seen as "replaceable"

Do they have any pet peeves?

SHE HATES BEING TALKED DOWN TO. And she hates getting attitude when trying to help.

She dislikes people who can not see the deeper meaning in things like art. She gets super angry when someone picks a flower with no purpose for it. She also hates those who attack the insecurities of others.

Also dirty nails. As a gardener and botanist she is always making sure her nails are clean.

What are three items you can find in their bedroom?

You would find ALOT of plants but mostly Holy Ghost ORchids as its what she needs for her bane to sleep. She has them usually put around her bed and some physically on her bed. ALso other plants hanging above her bed

You would see ALOT of really cute vintage platforms, its one of the few luxuries she loves. She loves a cute platform knee high boot more then anything

The portrait of her and her wife that is in a frame made of human bone.

What do they notice first in a person?

Face shape, like literally how their flesh hangs on their skull. She loves interesting facial shapes, after that is smell. She is very into the scent of a person so she tries and places it quickly.

If its a more business or serious setting its how someone speaks. She will ignore physical looks and smell to HEAR you, she believes so much of how someone is is the way they speak to someone and use their voice.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

This is complicated.

Physically: I will say her tolerance for Physical pain is FAIRLY HIGH. She is a Koldun and alot of her sorcery requires her to do BIG AMOUNTS of damage to herself and even sometimes with fire. She takes it in stride pretty well. Also her and her wife get into "Freaky shit" So I am going to give her like a 8 out of 10. I will say however even if she can HANDLE IT her body will give out alot sooner then her mind will

Mentally: If its anyone thats NOT her wife like a 8. If its Alezya like a fucking 3 if THAT. Her Resolve is her highest stat but it just doesn't matter when its Alezya she knows how to really get in there deep

Emotionally: Basically the same thing as mentally. Like a 7 but when its Alezya it knocks it down to like a 5.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? (Or freeze or fawn?)

Oh its actually flight. Very rarely does the "pressure" get to her but when it does she fucking leaves. ITS HER WORST TRAIT, She is really tough and will stand by you but if it ever gets TRULY HARD on her she might run

What animal represents them best?

So I usually use a weeping Willow to represent her like even in my mind her Beast is a old and scary tree. But if I had to use an animal.

I think the pfeffer Cuttlefish. Its cute and its rare to run into it but it can kill and it kills so easily. Even without wanting to do it. Also the other worldly nature of it works perfectly for her.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

"Extremely beautiful and kind (She has the 4 dot looks merit)" Very much feels and looks as if she is wise beyond her years. Even has a motherly vibe for a woman so "young"

I think once she speaks to them it shifts to "Beautiful but also strange. She almost looks sad under that smile"

Do they have any hobbies?

Oh Rosa's main hobbie is botany and cross pollinating plants. She also enjoys sewing every so often and other artist things. She presses flowers and also designed 90% of her own tattoos.

Besides that she has been trying to catch up on music so she listens to atleast 100 new songs a week. There is also Koldunism but she doesn't consider that a hobby anymore since she is a fairly accomplished Koldun at this point in her unlife

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

Thank you @aztarion for tagging me! I alrady did it once but this was a good excuse to do it again for Rosa!!!!

I already tagged a fair bit of people last time but ill tag @eric-the-bmo @rhiannon42 NO PRESSURE if you dont wanna do it!

[twodiamondhoes]

Ough hell yes ranchers + an arcade perhaps something silly like that

Hi Worm!!! this one possessed me I fear. It is technically over 500 words, but it is less than 600 words, so I'm counting it, because I kept wanting to just write a full indie-film summer romance style... thing instead of a 500-word drabble. This one was such trouble because I could have genuinely made it into something so much bigger and resisting that temptation was IMMENSELY difficult.

Enjoy! <3

The door swung open, letting a sliver of setting sunlight shine past the film covering the windows. Tango glanced up at the convex mirror above his machine and grinned. He ignored the cry of despair from the kid who had been watching him play for the past twenty minutes while he tried not to stare at the clock, and let his fingers slip off the controls.

He wove his way through the maze of machines, darting through the crowd with the ease of familiarity and practice. He broke through the edge of the crowd, where the machines ended and the carpet changed to patterned linoleum. The pinging of arcade machines faded in favor of the murmur of voices and shouting from the kitchen.

Jimmy stood at the periphery of it all, glancing around the room like it overwhelmed him. Maybe it did. Maybe Tango was one of the lucky few who found this level of noise and chaos relaxing instead of infuriating, but he loved it all the same.

“You made it!” he cried. Jimmy’s face lit up, and Tango wondered why he’d ever been worried.

He shoved down the flutter of nerves in his chest and hooked an arm around Jimmy’s shoulder, pulling him down to his level.

“Tango!” Jimmy cried, a laugh in his voice.

“Welcome, welcome!” Tango said forcing extra cheer into the words as he tried not to get distracted by his own foolishness at pulling Jimmy so close to him. If he turned his head fifteen degrees, he’d be able to see where Jimmy’s cheek dimpled. “Your first proper arcade experience,” he mused, “where do you want to start?”

“Um,” Jimmy said, sounding distracted. Tango couldn’t blame him. It was a lot to take in. “What’s your favorite thing here?”

Tango swallowed the urge to say something sappy, like “you, now,” but the urge was there. Instead, he turned them back towards the maze he’d come from.

“I hope you’re ready to lose, man, because I am not going easy on you.”

“Aw,” Jimmy moaned, “but it’s my first time!”

Tango sputtered out a laugh and wondered if Jimmy could feel his cheeks burning this close. Out of self-preservation, or maybe just plain bad judgment, Tango let Jimmy go, though his hand lingered on Jimmy’s shoulder a moment longer than it needed to.

“Two words for you: beginner’s luck. I’m not about to let my guard down around you. I’ve got a reputation to uphold, here.”

“Oh yeah, tough guy?” Jimmy asked, turning to look at him properly. There was a grin on his face that Tango had never seen before, but that he’d like to see again. It was sharp. Confident in a way Jimmy usually didn’t get to be. “Tell you what, you name the game, and I’ll make you eat your words.”

“What do I get if I win?” Tango asked, because he couldn’t help himself.

“Your reputation,” Jimmy said simply. There was something in his eyes that reminded Tango of a shark. “Obviously. The real question is: what do I get if I win?”

“My undying admiration?” Tango offered, a little breathless. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but it was the safest option. Jimmy’s lips quirked, like he knew it.

“It’ll do, for a start.” Jimmy gestured out towards the maze that Tango knew like a second home, and Tango pretended as he passed that it was the thrill of the challenge that had his heart pounding in his chest.

[magnapanther]

FINISHED WORK?? on MY page??? it's far less likely than you'd think. and yet, somehow, here we are. :D

(well, finished enough to post and call "done", i should say. i may yet meddle with some details when i inevitably notice ten more flaws immediately after posting :D)

good old moss knight, such a devout follower of big slug. surely no wandering knight would ever end such a noble creature's life before he had the chance to speak with a certain fellow at a nearby bench! :D

this was essentially just me testing the waters with digital after some time avoiding it, and especially colours/lighting. it's been a while since i actually tried to make something fully fleshed out like this. i don't know, i feel like it could have come out worse :)

[babsbabbles]

stop telling me I need to move out challenge (impossible)

[happy74827]

Say Yes to Heaven

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

WC: 3690

Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV

Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶

『••✎••』

He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.

It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.

He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.

Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.

"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"

That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.

And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.

The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.

The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.

He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.

You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.

It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.

But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.

Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.

His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It wasn't disgust.

He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.

Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.

Whoops.

So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.

He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.

It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.

It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.

He froze for a second.

You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.

Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.

But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.

Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.

The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.

He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.

His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.

3:02 am.

You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?

He looked back at the sink.

You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.

It would be worth it, right? Just for that?

3:04 am

He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.

He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.

3:13 am

He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.

He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.

You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.

You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.

He had a feeling it would.

You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.

You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"

Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.

You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?

Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.

He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.

His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.

You. That was all.

But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.

"Logan? What's wrong?"

You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.

His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.

He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.

Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.

His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.

His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.

He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.

The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.

His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.

He was afraid to let go.

He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.

You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.

How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?

Too long.

Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.

He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.

Your voice reached his ears.

"Logan, did something happen?"

He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.

Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.

He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.

"Logan?"

It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.

"I-"

He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.

But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.

That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.

"What happened?"

You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.

But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.

"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.

He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?

You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.

Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.

Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?

"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."

And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.

"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."

You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.

"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."

You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.

"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"

His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.

You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.

"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."

A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.

Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.

The one reserved for him and him only.

Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.

You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.

"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"

And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.

So, instead, he moved.

He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.

You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.

You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.

And he stared back.

He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.

He couldn't give you anything.

He had nothing.

There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.

His claws, too, if that counted for anything.

But, besides those, there was nothing.

He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.

Which is why he had no intention of trying.

Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.

One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.

"Logan."

You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.

Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.

The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.

It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.

He wanted you so badly.

And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.

He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.

And it wasn't the first time you did so.

There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.

He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.

Trying to find some meaning in his life.

But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.

"Are you sure?"

Because you were so much better than him.

Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.

It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.

It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.

He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.

"Hi, Logan!"

You would say.

"Good morning!"

You would wave.

"Have a nice day, Logan."

You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.

Much purer. Much more innocent.

You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.

It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.

He didn't want to ruin you.

"Yes."

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.

But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.

With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.

In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.

And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.

You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.

The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.

He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.

Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.

"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."

Teasing. That was a new one for you.

He liked it.

"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."

"Logan."

For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.

But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.

He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.

He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.

Like heaven.

He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.

Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.

He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.

Too focused on the taste of your mouth.

Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.

He was too distracted to care.

He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.

He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.

And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.

If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.

He should've taken the chance.

It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.

But it didn't matter. He was here now.

And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:

It doesn't matter.

As long as I’m here.

As long as you’re in my arms.

It doesn't matter.

Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.

But, for now, he could live with that.

He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.

Because he sure as fuck didn’t.

[eowynstwin]

i’m drooling at ur older bf price (not much else to say except when/if u ever have more thots abt him please share 🙏)

previous

You curl in on yourself after sex, sometimes. It’s a pattern Price has noticed—you’ll finish, then he will, and in the humid moments after, the shutters in your eyes will close. You won’t meet his gaze.

He’s only asked once about it, and it had been so clear that the question disturbed you that he hadn’t pressed. You’d tell him, he reasoned, when you were ready—

(And he could nudge you in that direction in the meanwhile.)

The sink is put back together, cabinet door closed. Your sundress is wrapped and twisted around your midsection, naked breasts wet with his saliva and compressed against his chest as you lay panting on top of him. His shirt is in some far-off corner, thrown aside, and his jeans are around his knees.

“That was nice,” he murmurs in your ear, kissing your hair. He makes a home for his fingertips between your shoulder blades, walking the trail of your spine, up and down, slow as a tide.

“Mm-hm,” you say, out at sea. Far away.

He can’t deny that it disappoints him. But it isn’t about him, and he shouldn’t make it so. Even if it is about him, it isn’t actually about him—it’s about something else that has attached itself to him. Things are like that more often than not—deeper, older problems with hooks, the barbed kind that sink in and cling and won’t come out of their own accord.

So he keeps kissing your hair, and he keeps stroking your back. His softened cock hasn’t slipped from you yet, and he makes no move to dislodge it. You nestle closer to him; shift your body over his, a little, just for the feeling of it. He waits for the sigh—the long, steady breath you take after the act, after you’ve found yourself again in wherever it is you go after moments like this.

“This is probably weird to talk about after sex,” you say, and Price’s ears perk up.

“Nothing weird between us, dove,” he encourages. “What’s on your mind?”

You play with his chest hair a little, twirling it around with the manicured ends of your nails. (A manicure he happily paid for.)

“You’re the first man who’s ever given a damn about me,” you mumble into his neck.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says honestly. He kisses you again, because he wants to, and because he wants it to comfort you.

“You don’t make me feel stupid for not being able to do stuff on my own,” you continue. “My step—my mom’s husband. He used to make fun of me for, for getting confused about changing my car’s oil. Or he’d get annoyed at me. Or I’d need him to change my tires because I can’t do it on my own, and I’d call him for help, and he wouldn’t pick up the phone.”

“He sounds like a piece of work,” Price comments.

A younger version of himself would have offered to beat the shit out of the asshole. That self’s anger on your behalf sits radioactive in his chest even now—corrosive, roiling, righteous fury, ready to carve your name on whatever offal is left over after Price gets through with him.

But that would be for his own ego, not for you. That has no place here.

“Do you know—” and your voice breaks a little, “do you know how bad it feels when a man who’s supposed to look out for you treats you like you’re an idiot? Like you’re not smart enough to be worth helping?”

“Some,” he says. “It’s an awful feeling. I wish you didn’t know how it felt, dove. I’m sorry.”

He feels something warm and wet drip onto his chest, and your shoulders begin to shake.

It’s not the full-body, wracking cry of catharsis. Just an episode of something longer, something tired. A problem dealt with, over and over again—a wound that reopens sometimes, if it’s pulled the wrong way.

Price gathers you closer, wraps his arms around you tighter. He cups the back of your neck with one hand and murmurs “shhh” into your hair, soothing and quiet, squeezing you against him.

“I’m okay,” you say, a little watery. “Really, I am.”

“I know you are,” he says.

He tilts your face toward his, and kisses the center of your forehead. You meet his eyes with your own, wide and glistening with your tears.

“I’m always gonna help you, dove,” he promises, catching one that falls with the edge of his thumb. “And you can always ask.”

-

No I don’t have daddy issues why do you ask

[gyaruhana]

I am in desperate need for more 001 / the front man fics TwT

Could the plot be : when 456 and others try to take over the controls room (last ep), 001 protects her from the guards ( or told the guards over the radio to not attack the player) thank you!

Hwang In-ho/Front Man - Favorites

Synopsis: In-ho decides you don't deserve to die so he makes sure you survive.

A/N: sorry if this is rushed i am trying to get so many other fics done now too !!

Warnings: none

Perhaps this whole mission was a really stupid idea. The sounds of gunshots rang through your ears as you listened to the yells of everyone else who had made the decision to help. You were starting to regret your own decision of taking a gun and choosing to help just because Young-il was going. You’d probably die here honestly. There just seemed to be a never-ending plethora of those guards running through and shooting at you and you couldn’t help but start to panic. 

Fuck, maybe you should just turn around and pretend like you were never a part of this poor attempt at a takeover. You weren't ready to die. Not today, not tomorrow, not even a decade from now. You just had to hold the fort down a little longer though. Just until Gi-hun and Jung-bae make it to the control room. You could wait that out. It wouldn’t take that long. At least, you kept telling yourself that. That everything was okay when it really wasn’t.

You took a deep breath before raising your gun and shooting at some of the guards from behind the pillar. Unfortunately for you, you quickly ran out of ammo making you pull back with a quiet curse. You shove your hands into your pockets to see if you had any more only to realize you’re out of ammo now. “Shit! I’m out,” you say as you look at the others and put your gun down next to you. 

“I’m almost out too,” Hyun-Ju spoke and the others seemed to have a nervous look on their faces - a clear sign they were quickly running out of ammo too. You leaned your head back as you closed your eyes and tried to breathe. All you could think about now was how you were definitely going to die here. You shouldn’t have tried to play hero. You should’ve stayed out of this so you could leave here in one piece and with a fuck ton of won. You were too lost in your fear to hear what the others were saying now and also too panicked to notice Young-il’s eyes on you.

He’d hate to admit it but seeing you like that made him feel guilty. He was annoyed at himself for lowering his guard so much and catching feelings for you when he really shouldn’t have. It was too complicated to fall for you when you were just a player, totally unaware that he was going to betray you all before Gi-hun even got close to the control room. If life was perfect, he would’ve taken you with him but he knew you’d never forgive him if you knew who he really was. 

It was then when he looked at the fear on your face did he decide you were not going to die here. Not in these twisted games he ran. You didn’t deserve death and, admittedly, he cared about you too much now to let you die. His focus on you was broken when Jung-bae started talking through the radio announcing that they believed they were right beneath the control room but needed more ammo and backup if they were going to make it.

“Did you hear that? They need backup!” he yells out as he looks to the others. “Three of us will go, the others will stay! Join us when you get the magazines!” he continued to yell through the loud echo of the bullets. Two of the men quickly offered to go as backup for Gi-hun and Jung-bae prompting Young-il to also go. Just as he was about to get up and head to the control room, your voice rang out.

“Wait! Are you sure?” you asked as you looked at Young-il with worry. Although Gwi-nam and Jung-bae needed some help and ammo, you didn’t want Young-il to be in danger. You weren’t sure what you would do if he died considering he’d been such a good friend to you. You’d never be able to get over his death - you knew that much. 

In response to your worry for him, he gave you a small smile as he looked at you before nodding his head. “I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry,” he says reassuringly. Seeing you look at him like that made his heart clench with both adoration and guilt. To know you worried for him almost made him rethink if he should be doing this or not. Of course, he quickly threw that thought away and turned around, heading to the direction Gi-hun and Jung-bae had gone. All you could do was watch him disappear through the door with a heavy heart as you pray this would work and he’d return unharmed.

Through the chaos of the shooting and the yelling, all you could think about was him. Even as everything went completely to shit and you all ran out of ammo after Dae-ho never came back and Hyun-ju left to go find him, you still kept thinking about him and if he was okay. Perhaps the threat of death being oh so real now was making you think about everything you had cherished in life - including the few days you got to spend with Young-il and how those days were arguably the best of your life.

Unbeknownst to you, you weren’t going to die here. Not as long as he was in control of these games. 

“Don’t kill Player 076,” he spoke through a radio to the guards after promptly shooting the guys that came with him and faking his death to Gi-hun. He shouldn’t be letting you live. He shouldn’t care about you at all but he did. He cared about you so much and he wished he could tell you the truth but he couldn’t. He’d just have to watch from afar and pull every string possible so you would live. He let out a sigh at the thought of you before quickly walking off to prepare himself to confront Gi-hun as who he really was - The Front Man.

You watched as your friends had no choice but to surrender until inevitably getting shot and killed. You flinched at the sound of the gunshots as you raised your hands in surrender and backed up. Were you crying? Yes. You were. Any sane person would be crying right about now after watching their friends die and realising they’re next to die. “Please. Please don’t kill me,” you begged as you closed your eyes and prepared for the worst. 

Except the worst never came. 

No. You were suddenly grabbed instead and pushed along as they walked. You weren’t sure what was happening. They had just ruthlessly shot your friends but they were leaving you to live? For what? So you could tell everyone what happened and teach a lesson to everyone not to try something like that again? You didn’t understand why you were spared when you really shouldn’t have been. You were just as guilty as the rest. You should have been shot too.

If only you knew the truth.

[bloatedandalone04]

TikTok Trends

➪the one where drew is a little clueless in regards to your love for tiktok, and even more confused every time he finds himself thrown into another trend.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, drew being confused for 90% of this, mentions of smut, size difference, slightly younger reader (3 year age gap), there was going to be smut, but i am saving it for another fic.

Word Count: 3.2k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Drew was laying on the king sized bed he shared with you, his sweatpant covered legs crossed as he lounged back on both his pillows and one of yours. His phone was in one of his hands, his thumb scrolling through the latest game results he missed last night when he was too busy fucking you into this very bed. 

He was oblivious to the way you were rummaging around in the dresser, though his eyes would occasionally flicker over to you as he scrolled. Tonight was date night, and he knew you would take a lot longer to get ready than he would, so he was staying in his sweats and hoodie until you were ready since he’d just throw something on and then be out the door within the same minute. You were being awfully quiet, and Drew was also oblivious to the way you had propped your phone up behind a picture frame, just out of view.

Drew’s free hand ran through his hair, his recent haircut making his scalp feel a little itchy, but he wasn’t complaining, because this haircut was what had you begging him to fuck you every night this week, so clearly it was working for you. 

“Hey, babe,” he murmured, not looking up from his phone. “Where do you want to go tonight? Anywhere you want, I don’t care, I just want to know if I should call in beforehand.”

You bit your lip as you adjusted your phone, your eyes shining with mischief as you moved away from the dresser. “I’m not sure,” you answered as you walked into the closet and grabbed the dark blue dress you were planning on wearing tonight. “Haven’t really thought about it.”

You had to hide your smile as you walked back into the bedroom and set the dress down on the bed next to Drew’s legs, and you had to ignore just how sexy he looked right now as you glanced over at your phone. 

Drew had never been one to be very active on social media in the two years you’ve been with him, so you knew for a fact that he would have no clue what you were about to spring on him. 

Reaching for the hem of your shirt, you bunched the material in your fingers before pausing, “Hey, baby,” you laughed, poking his knee as you swayed a bit on your feet. When Drew just let out a grunt, you continued, “Can you leave for a few minutes while I get dressed? I’ll be quick.”

You watched as Drew’s eyes flickered all over his phone’s screen before he hummed, moving to sit up. Just as his legs swung over the side of the bed, he seemed to have finally fully processed your words, because his eyes narrowed before he looked over at you. “Wait, what?” 

A laugh threatened to escape your mouth, but you managed to compose yourself before he could realize this was yet another trend he was currently being forced into. “Can you, like, get out for a sec? I need to get ready for tonight,” you asked again, gesturing to your shirt and sweats. 

One of his brows raised and he glanced down at your current outfit before looking over at your dress. “Uh, why?” he asked, sounding so genuinely confused, you almost cackled. “We live together, baby. I’ve seen you naked, like…a million times now.” 

You covered your mouth and crossed your arm over your chest as you tried to keep this going for as long as you could. “Just…please?”

Drew’s brows furrowed as he locked then set his phone down on the bed beside him, his fingers brushing against your thigh. “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, reaching for your hand. His voice was so deep but so sweet right now, you felt yourself caving in already. “Tell me, baby.”

“It’s nothing,” you say, but your voice sounded unconvincing even to you. “I just don’t want you in here while I get changed.”

Drew narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the pillows once again, clearly making no move to get up and leave. “Babe, come on,” he mumbled, giving you a pointed look as you tried to keep up the act for a little longer, but he was the actor, not you. “We’ve lived together for half a year now. I’ve seen you take off clothes in front of me more times than I can count. What’s so different now?”

You had a sneaking suspicion that he was catching on, and you knew the act was pretty much up. Still, you tried to go for a little longer, “There’s no difference…” you trailed off, then saw the look of realization flash in his pretty blue eyes. 

“Oh, I get it,” he muttered, a smirk tugging at his mouth as he looked up at you. “This is another TikTok thing, isn’t it?” 

You furrowed your brows and shook your head, but he had caught you. “No,”

Drew grunted and nodded his head, “Uh huh, where’s your phone?” he asked, glancing around the bedroom as you tried to think of a way to salvage your prank. 

“It’s not a TikTok thing-”

“Come on, where is it?” he cut you off, his tone light and relieved as he now knew that nothing was wrong and this was just him falling for another trend going around on an app he didn’t even have installed. 

With a huff, you nodded towards the dresser, and Drew shifted a bit so he could see your well-hidden phone behind the picture frame. 

“I fucking knew it,” he laughed, rubbing his hands over his face as he leaned back again. “Why do I keep falling for these things?”

“Because you’re old and refuse to use social media,” you mumbled, reaching for your phone and ending the video. 

He scoffed from behind you, reaching over to wrap his hand around one of your thighs. “I’m only three years older than you, brat,” he muttered, pulling you towards him. “I’m not nearly old enough for you to call me that.” 

“Three and a half,” you hummed, your attention quickly slipping from your phone as you let him turn you around and pull you to stand in between his legs. Your free hand caressed his jaw, his stubble pricking your fingertips as you gazed down at him, “Can’t forget the half.”

Drew hummed, leaning in to press his face against the front of your shirt. “Mm, right,” he rasped, leaning back on the bed and pulling you with him so you are straddling his waist. “Can’t forget the half.”

You dropped your phone onto the bed next to his, both devices quickly being forgotten about as you braced your hands flat on the sheets on either side of his head, your lips finding his in a deep kiss that quickly turned into something a lot more heated. 

-

“You’re not doing it right,” you whined, pushing your boyfriend away from you as you walked towards your phone to restart the recording. 

After finding a trend that would actually involve Drew participating in it, you decided to give him a break from all the prank trends you pull on him and asked if he wanted to try this couple trend you saw all over your for you page. Surprisingly enough, he agreed to. You assumed he was probably tired of falling for the pranks all the time, so this way he could be fully aware of what was happening. 

With that being said, even though he was an amazing actor, he fucking sucked at following directions. 

“What do you mean I’m not doing it right?” he asked, holding his arms out as he watched you set your phone back up against the TV stand. “I’m picking you up, am I not? Is that not what I’m supposed to do here?”

You rolled your eyes and bit back a laugh as you stood back up straight and moved towards him. “No, you’re supposed to flip me upside down,” you said, “Did you even watch the video I sent you?” 

“I watch all the videos you send me,” he mumbled, glancing over at your phone before stepping closer to you. “Just tell me what to do, okay?”

You grinned and moved to stand in front of him, and you reached behind you to take Drew’s wrists in your hands. “Just hold me here,” you instructed, placing his big hands on your hips as you both faced the camera. “Then lift me and turn me upside down.” 

“That’s it?” he asked, giving your hips a teasing squeeze as he dipped his head down and pressed a firm kiss to your temple. “What if I drop you?”

You look over your shoulder at him and raise your brow, “Well, don’t,”

Drew laughed, the deep sound rumbling against your back as you looked at your phone. “Alright, ready?” he asked, and you nodded. Drew bent his knees slightly, ensuring he had a good grip on you, before he straightened back up again and easily lifted you off the ground. 

That was the easy part though, but after a few seconds, he managed to turn you upside down so your legs were by his shoulders and your head was by his knees. “Yay, baby!” you squealed, holding onto his arms tightly as he dangled you above the floor. 

Drew let out another deep laugh as he held you securely in place, his arms wrapped protectively around your waist. “Is this it?” 

“Yes,” you answer, helplessly swaying in his hold as you look at your phone from your upside down angle. “I hope it turned out well. I don’t want to do this again.”

“Why not?” Drew asked, locking his arms around your thighs as he swayed you even more, making another quiet squeal leave your lips. “Now that I know what to do, this is easy.” 

Your grip tightened on his arms as you held on for dear life, a soft whine escaping your mouth. “Drew,”

He laughed and stilled before managing to guide your legs down until you were upright again. “Alright,” he grinned, steadying you with his hands on your waist. “Are we good?”

You nodded and leaned into his touch for a few seconds before moving away to grab your phone. After ending the video, you clicked on it to make sure it came out okay, and as you did so, Drew came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“How’d it turn out?” he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder as he glanced down at your phone as well. 

“Good,” you answered, playing the video and watching with a dumb smile on your face as your boyfriend effortlessly picked you up and managed to do the trend rather successfully. Turning your head, you pressed a quick kiss to his chin, “Thank you.”

Drew hummed, kissing you properly as his hands splayed across your belly. “‘Course,” he mumbled, kissing you again before looking back down at your phone. “You look so small, baby. Send that to me.”

You grinned and nodded as he stepped away from you and towards the doorway. “You could see it on my TikTok if you actually had the app,” you pointed out as you sat down on the couch. 

“Not happening,” he called over his shoulder before giving you a teasing smirk and leaving the room. 

As you watched the video again and matched it up with the song it would go with, you bit down on your lip, because Drew looked really hot in it, and it was extremely obvious how fit and strong he is since he lifted you up with ease. 

You could only imagine all the comments you’d get, and all of them would be girls thirsting over your boyfriend. 

-

The ‘calling your boyfriend friend names’ prank was all that was currently on your for you page on your TikTok, and you knew after watching the first one that you were going to do it to Drew. 

Your poor, unsuspecting boy who was really never safe as long as you had access to the app, or any app for that matter, because he was just too easy.

Drew was laying back on the bed, one arm propped behind his head as he browsed through various movies on Netflix, his gaze fixated on the TV that was mounted on the wall above the dresser. 

He looked so focused as he tried to find something to watch, and you knew he was looking for something that you would like since you and he had very different tastes when it came to movies. You almost felt bad for what you were about to do. 

Almost. 

“Dude, just pick a movie already,” you laughed from your spot on your side of the bed, discreetly angling your phone to capture his entire upper body without making it look obvious. 

Drew’s head turned in your direction, one of his brows raising as his thumb paused on the remote. “I’m trying to,” he muttered, squinting his eyes at you, “Dude.”

You held in your snort and shook your head, looking back up at the TV. “I don’t care what we watch, man,” you mumbled and felt him shift next to you, but you kept your eyes locked on the screen. “Just pick something.”

The remote was set down on the bed between your body and his, and when you glanced up at him, he was softly glaring at you, “I will, once you call me by my actual name instead of dude or man,” 

You actually laughed, but this one fit in well, “Okay, Drew,”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he groaned, moving towards you and dropping his head to your chest. He presses his face against your cleavage as you reach over and prop your phone up on the nightstand. “Call me what you always call me.”

You grinned as you draped your arms around his shoulders. “Aw, buddy,” 

Drew’s head had never snapped up faster than it did when you said that. “Why are you calling me that?” he asked, placing his hands flat against the bed on either side of your hips as he pushed himself back up so he was kneeling beside your still reclined form. “Baby, what’s going on?”

You pressed your lips together as you reached up and cradled his pretty face in your hands. “Nothing,” you answered, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. 

Drew gave you a skeptical look before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. His big hands found your hips as he deepened it, his tongue brushing against yours, and you returned his kiss like you always do. “Are you sure?” he murmured against your mouth, and you knew your knees would’ve buckled if you were standing up from how deep and sexy his voice is. 

But you couldn’t think about that right now, and you realized you would have to edit that intense kiss out of the video so TikTok didn’t flag you, which would suck. “I’m sure,” you confirmed, then fucked with him further, “Everything’s all good, pal.”

Drew gave you a look of disbelief as he pulled away and sat back on his knees again. “Pal? Did you seriously just call me pal?” he gaped at you, his brows drawn together in confusion and something that looked a lot like betrayal. “Babe, what the fuck did I do? I know you’re mad at me, you keep calling me all these random names. Tell me what I did.”

You laughed and shook your head, pushing yourself up so you were sitting in front of him. “You didn’t do anything, Drew,” you assured him, but could tell that your words had very little effect on him. “I promise.”

His eyes narrowed as he glared at you, moving back to his original spot on his side of the bed. “Then stop calling me dude or pal,” he muttered, picking the remote back up and lifting his arm so you could cuddle against his side. 

You actually did snort this time as you crawled over to him, “Okay, bro,” you mumbled as you slid under his arm, but as soon as the name left your lips, Drew was standing up from the bed and looking down at you with his hands on his hips. 

“Bro? Bro?” he echoed, “No, something is definitely wrong here. What is happening right now, Y/n? Are you breaking up with me or something?”

You let out a loud laugh as you rolled onto your side. “No,” you answered, shaking your head as you looked up at him. “I’m not breaking up with you, Drew. Why would I do that?”

He sounded a bit desperate now as he braced one knee on the edge of the bed and asked, “Then why are you calling me dude and bro and pal? You’ve never called me those names before,” he rambled, “That’s what you call a friend, baby, not your boyfriend.”

“I know,” you said, propping yourself up on your elbows as you looked up at him, and after getting another look at his handsome, yet so obviously confused face, you caved. “That’s what the prank is, babe. I call you names I’d call a friend.”

Drew’s brows furrowed, then he was looking around the bed for your phone, and when he glanced at the nightstand, he let out a loud groan. “Oh for fucks sake,” he grunted, rubbing his hands over his face as you laughed and moved to retrieve your phone. “I thought we were breaking up or something. Why do I keep falling for this shit?” 

You shrugged, “I don’t know. Guys are just so easy,” you answered, “And unless you cheat on me or something, I’m never breaking up with you.”

Drew dropped his hands to his sides as he joined you back on the bed. “And I’m never cheating on you,” he rasped, straddling your thighs as he placed his hands on your waist. “But how many more times are you going to do this to me? This one was fucked up.”

You laughed as you ended the recording, then gasped when you felt how hot his skin was. “Drew,” you say with wide eyes, “You’re, like…sweating.”

“I know I am,” he said, his fingers pushing up your shirt as his hands ran along the skin of your stomach. “I told you, I thought you were breaking up with me. I was panicking.” 

You smiled up at him, letting him take your phone from you and toss it onto the end of the bed. “I would never,” you promised, and Drew wrapped his fingers around your wrists, guiding your hands up to rest on his chest as he gazed down at you with an intense stare. 

“Good,” he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips against yours, and it was clear that the hunt for a movie to watch was now postponed. His eyes were even darker when he pulled away, his nose bumping gently against yours. “I love you.”

You whimpered quietly as you slid your hands up into his hair. “I love you too,” 

Then he was pressing himself against you completely, and soon enough, you were sweating too.

[rebelscums]

Little Flower (Qimir x Padawan reader)

Rating: Fluff | Kissing | Light grinding | A pillow is thrown

Summary: You are the padawan to a masked man you had no name of. You have been by his side for years, training and mastering the arts of what he refers to as the dark side of the force. However, with Mae entering your life as his new favorite, you are beginning to question whether you belong there anymore. Something that you run to your closet fiend to talk about. Who knew confessing to Qimir about your trouble would bring a life changing moment.

“I’m not strong enough for him.” That was the first thing you said to Qirmir as you entered his shop. Borrowed shop? You didn’t care.

The defeat in your tone was enough to alert him of your dismay.

“That’s it. I’m officially useless to him. He doesn’t need me.” You blurted out all of your frustrations to the only person you have ever been able to call a friend, “All he cares about is his new acolyte Mae.”

You were both stationed here with Mae as she completed the next part of her trial which was to kill Master Torbin… Without a weapon.

“What makes you say that?” Qimir popped his head up from behind his counter.

“He’s been making me run these needless errands lately that literally anyone else in the galaxy can do.” You set a bag of powdered gold leaves onto the counter, “This took me an entire day to find and when I go back to the spot I left him, he was gone! Gone! Didn’t tell me where either.” You said frustratingly, “So I figured you might know what to do with this.”

Qimir took the bag and peered inside, a please look on his face as he hummed, “Actually I do. It’s the leaves I need to make a poison Mae requested.”

“Of course it is.” You rolled your eyes at the mention of her name.

Mae seemed to be taking the eyes of your master and Qimir lately. Something that made your eyes turn green with the overpowering feeling of jealousy… Of being abandoned.

“Look, I love Mae and she has become very dear to me, but… I was here first.” You felt like a child for saying that, “I know that sounds selfish, but it feels like he just tossed me aside for a better version.” You looked up at Qimir showing him the hurt and betrayal in your eyes before looking away to try and suppress your feelings, “And maybe… Maybe she is better than me… Maybe I should just take my loss and go.” You spoke in a near whisper, your throat tightening at the thought.

“No!” The way he quickly voiced his answer had you looking up at him waiting for him to continue, “You are strong with the force and an extremely skilled assassin.” He shook his head, “You don’t have to leave.”

You sighed and moved past him and the counter, “But what if he wants me to leave Qi? You don’t understand. It’s like he doesn’t even see me or the power I possess. All he ever says to me is that I’m not ready to become his acolyte and that I need to help Mae ascend yet…” You slumped into the cot that he called a bed with a huff, “I’m older than she is! I’ve been with him longer might I add. I’ve never questioned him, I’ve followed him loyally and this is what I am granted with? To be a baby sitter?”

“One useful skill may come out of that job.” He noted and you missed the blush in his face at whatever he was thinking about…

“And what might that be?” You muttered tiredly as you stared up at the ceiling contemplating your life and how you could just be better.

“You would make a good mother?” Qimir shrugged his shoulders as he tried to had the small smirk on his lips.

You launched one of the pillows on the bed the moment those words left his mouth. It was going straight for his head to which he surprisingly dodged with ease, but that didn’t stop the surprised look appear on his face as he raised his hands in surrender.

“Not funny.” You grumbled and crossed your arms, turning to face the wall with a pout.

“Okay okay. I’m sorry.” Qimir said as he walked over to where you were. When you didn’t turn to face him, he decided to take a seat on the edge of the bed beside you. There was a thoughtful look on his face before he spoke again, “Maybe… Maybe he is looking out for you.”

That got your attention. You sat up, your shoulders brushing against his as you peered up at him with confusion, “What do you mean?”

A nervous blush creeped up his face as you leaned closer to him, “Well I mean… I…” He trailed off nervously, “I just mean that maybe you just might be more important to him than you realize. He could be looking after you to take on a more important role.”

“What’s more important than being his acolyte?” You huffed in confusion as you look towards your fiddling hands, “I remember what he said to me all those years ago when we first met. He promised he would make me a powerful force weirder and that I would stand by his side as his acolyte and now… Now I’m starting to question if he really meant it.”

Qimir’s hand found yours and gave it a comforting squeeze, “He meant it and… You are powerful. Just as you are brave and unlawfully kind.” He assured and it was your turn to blush.

It seemed like he always knew what to say to you in ways that made your heart flutter and your cheeks burn, “Qi…” You breathed out as you glanced at his lips.

He was quick to copy your movements leaning in closer to you as he did so, “Maybe he sees too much good in you to turn you into something your not.” He whispered, his breath caressing your skin.

“You seem to know a lot about what he may think.” You whispered, suddenly lost in his darkening gaze, “Why is that?”

“What can I say? I’m good at reading people.” He smirked slightly as he looked down at your lips again, “I’m also extremely possessive over what I care about. Knowing him means knowing you.”

“Okay…” You hummed accepting his answer, “Alright then mister possessive, what am I thinking about right now?” You mused, a mischievous glint sparkling in your eyes.

It was something the Qimir couldn’t get enough of. It was your playfulness towards him that was like a breath of fresh air against the darkness he was met with daily.

“I would say…” His speech was slow as he traced your face with his eyes, “That you really want to kiss me.” He teased lowly. There was a small grin on his face in knowing that he was right.

He was always right.

“Do I now?” You didn’t try to deny it as you leaned in closer to him, “And you? What do you want to do?”

A low noise emanated from his throat, almost like a pleading sound as his lips brushed against yours, “I want to kiss you...” He said in a way that made your heart yearn for him.

“Then what are you waiting for? Kiss me.” You breathed out, your heart racing wildly in excitement.

That was all he needed to hear as he leaned down to press his lips against yours. Your eyes fluttered closed at the soft sensation in the way that he kissed you. It was delicate and gentle as if he was afraid to push you too far, but the way your arms circled around his neck, pulling him closer to you, was all he needed to know.

He felt like light between your fingertips as you ran your hands through his hair and he was gentle with his movements in guiding you back against the bed. “Beautiful…” He breathed out, fitting himself snugly between your legs.

“Qi…” You breathed his name against his lips, arching your back as he tugged your bottom lips between his teeth. He held himself back, letting go of your lip to really look at you. You couldn’t help but look at him with awe as he gazed at you with so much love and devotion shining in his eyes.

“You are just… Breathtaking.” He admired you with every part of his being, “Utterly breathtaking…” He seemed mesmerized as his right hand traced along your curves.

You blushed, a small smile playing on your lips as you looked away from him embarrassed by his loving words, “Who knew you were such a flatterer.”

He chuckled lowly as he leaned back down to kiss your lips. All too quickly he left and began leaving a trail of kisses down to your neck. You couldn’t help your eyes fluttering closed at the feeling.

“You deserve to be flattered.” He continued losing himself in everything that was you. He rocked himself against you as he held back the urge to devour you entirely. He wanted too so desperately now that he knew you were his, body, soul, and mind. He would never let you go, not now… Not until his last dying breath. “You deserve the galaxy, my little flower.” He muttered softly against your skin.

You have much to learn little flower.

You moaned lightly at the pleasure he filled you with almost kissing his last words, but you heard them. Your mind took a moment to register the deeper meaning behind his endearment, but when you did your eyes opened in realization. It was him. Qimir was him. No one knew about that little nickname except for…

“Master?” You whispered running your fingers through his hair in a gentle manner, but your heart beat widely in your chest as he stopped kissing you.

“Hm…” He hummed a small smirk gracing his lips as he breathed against your neck, “You finally figured it out.”

You placed your right hand on his cheek and gentle lifted his head to face you, “He’s you?” You said in awe as you pieced together every moment up until now, “You’re him?”

“I am.” He searched your eyes for any fear or resistance, but his shoulders relaxed as he saw none.

“So… That is why you were never around when he— I mean when you were training me? Because you were already there.” Your brows furrowed, “Does Mae know?” A small pang filled your chest at the possibility of her knowing your masters identity before you.

He shook his head, “No.”

The pang quickly left, filling your chest with relief as you let out a small sigh, “So… That’s how you were so sure about how he was feeling because that’s what you truly felt…” A blush filled your cheeks at the kind words he said to you earlier.

However, you realized something else as well. He was the one who kept you from becoming his acolyte. You gasped as you smacked his chest causing him to groan and you would have cared for the old Qimir if you didn’t already know how strong he truly was as your master.

“Why won’t you make me your acolyte?” You huffed slightly embarrassed now that you know you spilled your guts to him, “This entire time I have told you how I felt. I am devoted only to you master so why will you not let me become your acolyte?”

“I thought you would have figured that out by now.” He chuckled shaking his head.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “What do you mean? That is why you train me, it is why you let me stay with you, is it not?”

Strands of his hair fell into his eyes from the way he shook his head. You couldn’t help, but reach up to brush them away, something that had his heart flutter and his lips curl up into a soft smile. He leaned into your touch, his eyes closed as he spoke softly, “I don’t want you to become my acolyte anymore because I couldn’t bear the thought of something ever happening to you.” His gaze darkened, “I would burn the galaxy before that ever happens.”

You smiled softly and brushed away the creases from his brow, “I know.”

“I want you to be mine.” He nuzzled his nose into your wrist before placing a gentle kiss upon in, “I want you to be my equal… Not as someone who does my bidding, not as my padawan or my acolyte, but someone who stands by me.”

“I want you my little flower because you are everything I wish the world to be.” He finished, a soft look in his eyes.

Love swelled up in your chest at the confession he conveyed so deeply to you. His love sealed your fate to him as you leaned up towards him. You brushed your lips against his, the both of you conveying your strong emotions to one another with the look of your eyes.

“You have my heart Qimir and I will stand by your side, always.” You agreed softly.

It was a promise that the two of you would keep without any doubt. He was yours and you were his until the end of time.

[gallusrostromegalus]

Basically. I got screwed.

I am very sorry for how relatively quiet this blog has been but I've been dealing with a very unpleasant situation the last few months, and now I need help.

Essentially, I tried to help someone out, and she took advantage of me, and I have no way to recoup my losses.

Earlier this year, I moved into a new house. Before we sold the old house, a Now-Former friend ran into some trouble and was about to become homeless with pets and a small child. Not wanting them to be on the street, we offered to hold off selling the old house so she could stay there for a little while, if she could pay the cost of the mortgage on that house (because I could afford one mortgage but not two) while we helped her find somewhere more permanent.

I was not making money from this- since I was still paying the utilities and property taxes, I was actually losing money, but willing to soak that in order to help her save up and get her on her feet.

Instead, she:

Never Paid a Dime towards covering the mortgage costs like she agreed ($12,000 for the nine months she was there)

Trashed the house ($500 dump fees for the trash alone)

Let her pets piss and shit all over the house ($1,500 bio hazard cleanup, $4000 to replace the carpet and other damaged flooring)

Caused an electrical issue in the garage ($900 to repair)

Broke the washer, dryer and refrigerator ($2500 to replace)

Broke the fence ($1000 to repair)

When I told her I could no longer financially support her and that I needed to sell the old house, she illegally squatted there for a solid three months and I had to hire a lawyer and actually take her to court to get her to leave ($2,500)

The resulting stress has been, as you can imagine, stressful.

So stressful, in fact, that it aggravated a the medical conditions my husband had and made him extremely sick. He had to go to the hospital and take time off work to recover. Now the health insurance is trying to weasel out of paying his short-term disability claim.

So net, this woman has managed to cost me around $25,000 and that's not taking into account the missed paychecks and medical expenses. I do not have $25,000, and until at least $13,000 of that is spent to repair the damage she did, I legally cannot sell the house to even begin to recoup my losses.

Theoretically, I could sue this woman, but she doesn't have any money and it would be me paying even more money I don't have to get... Nothing. So I'm asking for help to cover the costs of getting the old house ready to sell, my husband's medical expenses, and other expenses incurred by this debacle:

If you can help out in any way-share, donate spare change, anything- I'd be extremely grateful.

Thank you.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 27: Drown In It

Summary: Your heat lingers closer and closer, which leaves you with some conflicting feelings. Of course, you're not going to worry about them for much longer...

Paring: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,179 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, p in v sex, unprotected sex, bodily fluids, heat cycles, knotting, licking, biting, grinding, spanking (it's like once), kissing, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, a sprinkle of angst, language, emotions, and of course some fluff

A/N: And we're in it again, folks. It's happening (again). Though this time, there may be a bit of a surprise....

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

(Yes I am using a Barry Sloane gif, trust me you will understand once you read the chapter)

You freeze, dread and panic beginning to fill you as you stand in the doorway to the rec room. The pounding of your heart is loud in your ears, which are quickly growing hot. The urge to turn tail and run is strong, yet you can’t move, frozen in place by the sight in front of you. 

Simon is sitting, far too relaxed, in the chair where he normally sits. There’s a book in his hands, the crinkle of the page being turned is like a gunshot. You almost flinch in response, but hold still, wondering if you could back away before he notices your presence. You know it would be futile. He would have heard the crinkling of the bag of chips in your hand, the quiet rustle of it against your leg as soon as you turned the corner. 

“Interesting book, this.” He says, not bothering to look up as he sits reclined in the chair, about halfway through the book in his hands. 

Your mouth goes dry as you stare at him. You might never have given him, or the book, a second glance had you not been so clearly able to see the cover. It was almost like he was doing it on purpose, hoping you’d see what he’d found, what he’d discovered in your underwear drawer. It’s almost like he was hoping you’d walk in and see it. Or maybe he heard you coming and positioned himself so you’d see it. 

“‘The Powerful Omega.’” He says, closing the book to stare at the title. 

You shift on your feet nervously, ready to run if you need to, the bag of chips crinkling as you tighten your grip on it.. “I-I can explain-” 

“No need.” He says, cutting you off as he flips the book back open. “Is this how you got into our heads so easily?” 

Despite the accusing question, his tone isn’t malicious or even disparaging. You fiddle with your fingers, starting to feel like you’re being tested. If you say yes, what will he do? Get angry, accuse you of manipulation? But if you say no, he might think you’re lying, or perhaps he already knows the answer. 

“I-It helped a bit.” You say, shuffling forward a step. “At first. I almost forgot it was in there.” 

“‘Learn to Speak Their Language.’” He reads off the chapter title, your cheeks warming a bit. Of course he’d be there when you caught him. He stares at you over the top of the book, your gaze turned to the black TV screen. You can’t stare at him. Not right now. “Is this why you asked me to train you?” 

There’s no lying to him. You already know that. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, nodding. “It was part of it. It gave me the idea, but then I realized if I’m gonna go around making stupid decisions like punching alphas, maybe I should know how to defend myself a little. I-I also thought it might help me get closer to you, at least get you to tolerate me a bit.” 

He huffs out a laugh. “Well, I can say it worked. Was more you than anything, but I was a bit touched you asked me.” 

Your nervousness begins to calm as you realize he’s not angry you have the book. He’s also not angry you used it to get closer to them, to begin to integrate yourself into their pack. You set your chips down on the coffee table, sitting on the edge of the couch. 

“How did you get it?” He asks. 

“I called Kate.” You give him a small smile. “When she sent me the first uh...care package. That was part of it.” 

He huffs, shaking his head. “Sneaky thing.” 

“I mean, one of you was bound to find it eventually.” You shrug. “Thought it might be Johnny with how often he sneaks into my underwear drawer. Though, I suppose he steals them from the laundry basket more often.” 

He hums, his gaze returning to the book. 

“Are you really reading it?” You ask. 

“‘Course.” He responds, getting comfortable in the chair again. 

A smile tugs at your lips as you watch him, his focus zeroing in on the book again. You get an idea, rising from the couch to scan the shelves in the rec room. You find a manual on guns and ammunition, sitting back down with the heavy book in one hand, your chips in the other. Simon glances at you over the top of his book again as you make yourself comfortable on the other side of the couch, the title clearly visible as you turn to the first page. 

“Really?” He asks, exasperated. 

You shrug, glancing up at him. “It’s only fair.” 

“Little shit.” He rolls his eyes, letting out a sigh as he goes back to reading your book. You sink down against the arm of the couch, using your book to hide your satisfied grin. 

“It never fails to amaze me.” 

“Huh?” You turn to face Johnny, a piece of popcorn falling out of your mouth from how much you've managed to stuff inside in one bite. 

“How much ye can eat during your pre-heat.” He says, grabbing the piece of popcorn that landed on the couch between you. 

You attempt to say something in response, but it comes out as a muffled mess around the popcorn you’re chewing. Johnny eats the piece that fell, reaching for the bowl. You move it out of his reach, pressing your foot against his side to keep him from getting too close. 

“Mine.” You say, pushing against his side, trying to get him to move away from you. 

He’s undeterred, using his size against you as he reaches for the bowl. A low growl rubles in your chest as you lean backwards, trying to keep it out of his reach. He freezes at the sound, staring down at you as you glare at him. 

“Did ye just growl at me?” He blinks at you, his lips turning up in a grin. 

You bare your teeth at him, another growl rumbling in your chest. You go for his arm, his reflexes just managing to yank it out of the way before your teeth sink into his skin. 

“Alright, alright.” He says, holding up his hands as he sinks back into his spot. “I got the message.” He grins as you sit up, holding the bowl protectively against your chest. “That might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” He pulls out his phone, snapping a picture as you glare at him. 

Your glare deepens as you shovel more popcorn into your mouth. He nearly giggles as he stares down at his phone, tapping on the screen a few times. You push yourself up, trying to get a look at his screen. “Who are you sending that to?” You ask between mouthfuls of popcorn. 

“The group chat.” He says, as if that’s not revealing news. 

“Group chat?” You ask around another mouthful. 

He nods. “Just the four of us fellas for blethering.” 

You blink at him, trying to translate what he means in your pre-heat addled brain. “Huh?” You say stupidly, a piece of popcorn dropping back into the bowl from the handful you had been holding up halfway to your mouth. 

“We like tae gossip among each other.” He says, giving you a grin. 

“Do you...talk about me?” You ask before shoving the handful of popcorn in your mouth. 

“All the time.” He answers, using his reflexes to steal a piece of popcorn from the bowl. 

You’re too distracted to care, though if your mouth hadn’t been full you might have been tempted to bite him in retaliation. “‘Bout what?” You ask, the words almost unintelligible thanks to the popcorn you’re still chewing. 

“Oh, lots of things.” He grins. “How cute ye look all cozy in yer bed, how nicely yer arse looks in your skids, how we got ye to moan like that, tips on how tae make yer legs shake-” He does let out a giggle as you softly kick him in his side.

“Rude.” You pout as you curl up against the arm of the couch away from him with your bowl. “Could at least include me.” 

“Aw but we need our space,” He says, leaning closer to you. “Fer all our mingin' gab.” 

You give him a look, still trying to process his words as he presses a kiss to your head. He uses your distraction to steal a piece of popcorn from the bowl, immediately jumping away from you as you react, letting out another growl. The popcorn bowl falls to the floor as you leap at him, ready to sink your teeth into his arm. 

“You're avoiding me.”

Simon glances up at you before looking back at his computer. “Not on purpose. You know the dangers if you go into heat too close.” 

He’s right. Though, you think you’d know if your heat was starting and you could get away before things got dangerous. Of course, with his sensitive instincts, he might notice before you do. Things would get ugly fast if John noticed too and tried to stop Simon. You’re not sure the betas could get to you in time to try and stop them, or at least get you away in hopes it clears their heads enough. 

You look around Simon’s office, the desk shoved further back to make room for the two cots set up in the corner closest to the door. Soon he and Johnny would be shut in here, avoiding the hallway around the corner while you and John fucked nearly non-stop for the next week. 

It feels different now that you’ve reached this new stage of your relationship with Simon. He’s not on the outside anymore, not separate from you. There’s a strong bond there now, one both of you have contributed to. He had made the boundary clear, even without having to say anything. He won’t take the risk of helping you. He’s not your alpha. 

However, wouldn’t complain if he were the one to get to you first, to lock you in his office and throw you on the cots and fuck you stupid for the next week. You shift on your feet at the thought of taking his knot, being pumped full of him and locked together. Would he remove his mask? Would you remember his face at the end of your heat-induced haze? 

He’d never forgive himself if it happened. He’d close himself off, avoid you like the plague. It would shred that fragile bond that has been set in place. 

You won’t entertain those thoughts anymore. Not when he’s so clearly drawn the line. 

You take half a step forward, pausing at the growl that rumbles in his chest. He’s setting another boundary, warning you of the dangers both of you pose towards each other in this delicate time. 

You continue forward despite the obvious warning, pushing against the instincts telling you to heed it and stay back. Yet, he doesn't stop you as you pass his desk, slinging a leg over him and planting yourself in his lap. It’s obvious, the tension in his body as you sit there, as if you might go into heat at any second. There will be signs once it is coming on, symptoms different from ones you feel outside of heats. 

You stare up into his eyes, his gaze sharp but not piercing as it once might have been. There’s a softness to it, something you might even call affection as he stares down at you. 

“Will you kiss me?” You ask softly, hesitantly. “One last time? So maybe I might remember you still like me when I wake up on the other side of this?” 

“I don’t think you could forget that.” He says, his hands dropping to grip your thighs.��

“Still...would be nice to have one.” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck. “For good luck?” 

He hums, the sound rumbling in his chest, before he lifts a hand, pulling his mask up to his nose. He leans forward, meeting you halfway as he presses his lips to yours. 

The kiss is searing, conveying a deep passion and almost a longing feeling as his lips move against yours. Does he regret his decision not to even offer to help you? You’re not sure even you would have said yes to his offer. It’s only your second heat, the second time you’ve trusted your pack to care for you in such a vulnerable position. While you don’t distrust Simon and his ability to take care of you, a deep part of you longs for your alpha and the surety and safety he’s already proven. 

Simon’s hand slides up your back, brushing over your neck before cradling the back of your head. He holds you still as he licks the seam of your lips. You moan softly against his mouth, wishing you could pull him closer, wishing you could sink into him and avoid the inevitable heat lingering over your head. 

A sigh is pulled from your lips as his tongue presses into your mouth, taking its time to explore before flicking against your own. His other arm wraps around your back, tugging you against him, chest to chest, legs spread around his hips. Had you not been trying to rest your body, or entirely disinterested in sex currently, you might have fucked him right in this chair, one last time before you’re lost to your heat and your alpha. 

He pulls away from your lips, resting his forehead against yours as you both pant softly. The silence is loud, but it speaks volumes between you, sharing things you’re too scared to say out loud, things that push the boundaries of vulnerability between the two of you. There will be time afterward, plenty of time to gently push those boundaries and continue to worm your way into his most intimate thoughts. 

You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. You can see the dots of freckles on his skin, the shades of brown in his eyes. His breath is warm against your lips as you sit there, almost like you’re trying to commit each other to memory, as if you’ll forget about him as soon as the door seals you and John inside your room. You will forget in the throes of your heat, but once the haze fades and you come back to yourself, you’ll remember him. He won’t be far, and neither will you. 

“See you on the other side?” You say, cupping his face, letting your thumb trace the line of his jaw, his stubble prickling your skin. 

He leans forward, kissing you once more, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. 

“See you on the other side.” 

You’re on fire.

Sweat has soaked your skin and right through the loose shirt you had donned earlier. It’s dripping down your face, offering no relief from the lava pulsing under your skin. You’re surprised the liquid doesn’t start sizzling as it drips down your chest and arms. You’re panting softly, legs spread as you lay on the bed. There’s a steady pulsing between your legs, the ache and need beginning to steadily grow more intense as slick seeps out of you and onto the blankets below. 

You woke earlier with a crawling sensation under your skin, your pajamas quickly ditched in favor of the baggy shirt to avoid the overstimulation of any tight fabric. You knew last night as soon as the ravenous hunger began to abate that you were close. Mid-bite of some potatoes the hunger had faded and suddenly they looked almost repulsive. Simon and Johnny had moved into his office and you quarantined in your room with Kyle and John on standby. 

Sleep had evaded you for most of the night as you waited for it to start, expecting it to be in the middle of the night like last time. Your mind had faded in and out of sleep, expecting to wake any moment with the uncomfortable feverish heat beneath your skin. 

Instead you woke early with no sign of it yet, still dry between your legs and almost cold from the always cool air in the barracks. The only sign had been the itching, crawling feeling beneath your skin. 

You’d made it just past lunch, Kyle bringing in food for you, which you had struggled through, only eating to try and get some last calories into your body. The familiar electrolyte drinks and nutrition bars that will keep both you and John alive over the next week, sit in stacks next to the door, some already set up on your nightstand. Your bed has been stripped down to a sheet, your pillow, and the blanket you slept under last night. Your stuffed animals and decorative pillows sit piled on your desk in the corner. 

It came on suddenly, the heat beneath your skin. The prickling sensation had begun in your core and flared outward to your very fingertips. It had been like a flushing feeling, the heat rippling through you. The book in your hands slid onto the floor as the deep cramping began, making you wince. You’re not quite sure what had been worse, the pain or the initial panic. 

Your phone is on the floor with your book after you’d managed to send a text to Kyle. The panic is still bubbling under the surface as your brain begins to get foggy, its only focus the pulsing between your thighs. It’s been a while since you’ve been awake for the start of your heat. The last one had started in your sleep, and the one before that you had been sedated by the CIA, closely monitored and put under before the itching even began under your skin. 

Your trembling fingers fumble with one of the electrolyte drinks on your nightstand, struggling to wrap around it and then get the cap off. It does little to soothe the dryness in your mouth, but you drink as much of it as you can. 

The door opens, Kyle slipping through before quickly closing it behind him. He approaches the bed, that sympathetic look in his eyes again. He’s not sure what to say, you can tell by his hesitance, but what is there to say in this moment? ‘Good luck, hope John doesn’t accidentally hurt you?’ 

You don’t blame him for his silence, though you know his beta is agitated, wanting to offer you comfort and support, but he can’t. He can’t do much for you this time, only your alpha can. 

Kyle bends down, picking up your phone and book from the floor before checking the charge on your phone. He sets it down on the nightstand, pulling another from his pocket and placing it down next to yours. It’s John’s personal phone. You recognize the familiar olive green case. Kyle will alternate charging them, mostly for John’s peace of mind. Not that he’ll care much about potential calls or messages while he’s knotted inside of you. 

“You’ll be okay.” Kyle says, brushing the wisps of hair stuck to your forehead back. Johnny had braided it last night, his final act of comfort before retreating with Simon to their own quarantined space. Kyle must have noted the nervous edges in your scent still lingering in the air as he tries to comfort you. 

You hold his hand against your face, nuzzling your cheek against his rough palm. It’s not quite enough, he’s not quite enough, but it’s no fault of his own. Your instincts are beginning to take over. The desire for an alpha, your alpha, to help you is overtaking any rational thought. 

Kyle strokes your cheek for a moment before he pulls away, taking the bottle from your trembling hands and tossing it in the trash. He folds your blanket and drapes it over the footboard before setting your book on your desk. 

“John knows.” He says, standing close to the door. “He’ll be in soon.” 

All you can do is nod as you rub your thighs together, trying to get any ounce of friction you can. The fabric of the shirt you’re wearing is like a million tiny knives against your skin, but your hands are useless as they tug at the fabric. You can’t get your body to work enough to pull it off. 

A pathetic whine leaves your lips as the door opens again. You’re still tugging at your shirt, writhing in your attempts to both remove the offending fabric from your skin and also get some relief for the pulsing between your thighs. 

“Alpha...” You whine, vision zeroing in on your alpha as he stands there, staring at you with dark eyes. 

“Look at you.” He rasps, taking slow steps closer and closer to you. 

Another whine falls from your lips as you reach out for him, desperate to feel him against you, like his very touch could ease the fire burning beneath your skin. Your arm is shaking by the time he reaches you, his fingers brushing against your hand. A content purr rumbles in your chest as he finally touches you, rough fingers tracing your palm before continuing down the inside of your arm. A shiver shakes your body at the feeling of his rough calluses against your sensitive skin. You wish those fingers would go elsewhere, your mouth watering at the thought of them between your thighs again. 

“Alpha,” You whine again as he grips your upper arm, yanking you up. 

In one fluid motion he sits on your bed, tugging your body onto his lap. His arms wrap around you, holding you against him, your slick dribbling onto the front of his pants. A quiet sound rumbles in his chest, his pupils dilating as his alpha begins to come out, his alpha responding to the thick scent of your pheromones in the room. 

You press against him, but it’s not enough. You need to feel him, his skin against yours, the prickling of the hair on his chest against your sensitive skin. His hands trail up your sides, the drag of the fabric of your shirt against your skin making you whine. You need to feel him, not the synthetic material separating you. He slides his hands all the way up, skirting past your breasts and sensitive nipples to grip the neck of the shirt, ripping it down the center. 

Your omega purrs happily at the display of strength, a quiet sigh leaving your lips as he pushes the shirt from your shoulders, freeing you from the overwhelming sensation. His hands flatten against your back, a content purr leaving your lips at the feeling of his skin against yours. You arch into him, pressing your hips against the prominent bulge in his pants. Your fingers tug at his own shirt, but you lack the strength to tear it off him, even as you paw at the fabric. You likely wouldn’t have been able to anyway outside the throes of your heat. 

“Needy little thing.” He purrs, nipping at your bottom lip. 

You chase his lips, kissing him harshly. His fingers dig into your back as you push your tongue into his mouth, licking at his own tongue. Your thighs clench around his hips at the thought of that tongue between your legs, more slick soaking the front of his pants as it gushes out of you. 

His hands slide down to grip your hips, dragging your slit along the front of his jeans. You moan at the delicious friction, pulling away from his mouth to kiss down his throat. His beard tickles your skin as he tilts his head, bearing his throat to you. A low growl rumbles through your chest as he allows himself to be in such a vulnerable position. You’re shaking in his arms as he guides your hips to grind against his pants, legs clenching around his hips. You’re close, the pulsing beneath your veins getting stronger and stronger. 

“Gonna cum like this?” He growls, his grip almost bruising on your hips. “Without me even touching you? Make yourself cum and I’ll give you what you need.” 

Your heat-addled brain somehow comprehends his words, picking out the parts it needs as you shift on his lap, dragging your clit against the seam of his jeans. Your face presses against his throat, devouring his scent straight from the source. It goes right to your head, the earthy scent nearly indistinguishable from the musk of his rut. 

Your body shudders as your first orgasm rocks you, slick gushing out of you like a tidal wave. You sink your teeth into his shoulder, fingers digging into his skin. 

“Son of a-” He curses, delivering a harsh slap to your bare ass. “Fuckin’ naughty little omega.” 

You grin, lapping at the teeth marks you’ve left on his skin as you press your ass into his hand. Your orgasm has provided a little relief, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. Not until you have his knot inside you. 

You tug at his shirt again, bunching the fabric in your hands. “Off.” You whine, desperate to feel his skin against yours. 

He finally acquiesces, pushing you back far enough to tug his shirt off. Drool drips down your chin as you stare at the skin now exposed to you. You can’t help yourself as you lean forward, licking your way across his collarbones and his chest. You slide off his lap, kneeling between his legs as you lick your way down his chest, dragging your tongue across his soft stomach. 

He grips the back of your neck, pulling you away from his skin. Your tongue is still sticking out, almost like it’s trying to taste every last bit of him that might be in the air. “Fuck.” He groans, pushing you back as he moves to stand. 

You grab his hand before he can fully stand, tugging with surprising strength. He falls into you, both of you falling back onto the floor in a mess of limbs. Your omega scratches in the back of your brain, your gaze sharpening as you wrestle with him, finally managing to pin him on the floor. 

His eyes are almost black, a dangerous growl rumbling in his chest. Slick dribbles out of you, smearing on his stomach as you return his growl, baring your teeth at him. You want him to submit, you need him to submit to you. Your omega doesn't care about the obvious challenge, the stupidity of trying to control a rutting alpha. 

Yet, he goes lax beneath you, his gaze still sharp and cautious as he stares at you. 

Your growl softens into a purr as he relaxes, submitting to you for a moment. You bend down again, your tongue flattening against his skin once more. Your eyes are locked on his as you lick the beading sweat on his chest, purring at the saltiness of it on your tongue. You continue your way down his body, following the path down his chest and across his stomach. His eyes leave yours, watching the wiggle of your bare ass as you crawl backwards, continuing to lick across his stomach until you reach the puddle of shiny slick streaked across his skin. 

He lets out a rumbling purr as you lap at your own slick. It’s sweet from your pheromones, yet there’s the familiar tang of your natural taste on your tongue as you clean the mess you’ve made on your alpha’s skin. 

As soon as you deem his skin clean enough you continue downward, licking at the waistband of his jeans. Your fingers are shaking as you paw at his pants, trying to get your fingers to work to remove the last barrier between you. You need your alpha’s cock, you need to see it, to taste it. Your mouth is watering as you fumble helplessly, unable to handle such fine motor skills when all your brain is screaming to do is fuck. 

He pushes your hands out of the way, undoing his pants easily. He wiggles them down enough until his cock has sprung free, heavy and almost throbbing on his stomach. You stare at it wide eyed, drool slipping down your chin as you stare at it. You need it, you need his knot now, the burning under your skin intensifying from how close you are to finally getting what you need. You wrap your hand around his heavy length, the tip already leaking as you lean down, dragging your tongue from his balls to the tip. He lets out a groan as you close your lips around the head, flicking your tongue across his slit. 

You hold his gaze, dragging your tongue across his head once more before lifting yourself and shifting over his hips. You hold his gaze as you drag his cock through your folds, your needy brain searching for the spot you need. You let out a whine as you find it, his head catching on your entrance. You don’t hesitate, a long, desperate sounding whine falling from your lips as you sink down onto his length. 

It goes in easily, your body opening to him eagerly, your slick aiding the process as it gushes down the length of his cock. You make it halfway before pausing, breathing for a moment before you sink the rest of the way down. 

Your pussy flutters around him, a whimper leaving your lips. You could cum just like this, just from the stretch of his cock inside of you. It’s still not enough, it’s still not what you need, but it does ease the ache throbbing in your pelvis. 

He lays there, eyes hooded as he watches you, content to let yourself use him in your needy state for now. Your hands press against his stomach as he sinks almost impossibly deep inside you, your hips settling against his. He reaches up, pressing against the bulge in your pelvis, your hips jerking at the shock of pleasure that thrums through you. 

He lets out a pleased rumble as you squeeze around him, slick dribbling out around the base of his cock. “Be a good omega, take what you need.” He commands, his alpha rough around the edges of his voice. 

Your hands press firmly against his stomach, using him for leverage as you begin to move, lifting your hips and then letting them drop. Quiet whimpers leave your lips with every movement as his cock drags along your walls. The ache in your bones is finally starting to ease, the burning itch beneath your skin fading. You rock on your alpha’s cock, using his body for your pleasure as he lays there, content to watch you. 

The low rumble in his chest vibrates through you, inaudible under your desperate whines and the squelch of your pussy on his cock, but you can feel it in your hands, your subconscious picking up on it in a way you can’t understand. It only adds to the pleasure coursing through you, your clit throbbing from the friction against his jeans earlier. 

You’re tired, your legs shaking as you begin to slow down. The need pulsing through you is strong, but your heat-addled body is not. You whine desperately as you grind on his cock, seeking out any sort of pleasure you can get as your legs give out, too exhausted and weak to continue. 

“What’s the matter?” John says, lips pulling up in a smirk. “Poor little omega getting tired? Can’t fuck herself on my cock anymore?” 

“Please...” You whine, nearly crying in desperation. “Need your knot alpha.” 

“Then take it.” He says, not making any move to help you. 

“Can’t,” You whine. “Need you to do it. Need you to take care of me.” 

He lets out a growl at your confession, his hands finally moving to your hips. He pulls you off of his cock, flipping you around so you’re on your knees, upper body pressed against the floor. You push your ass up as high as you can for him, presenting for your alpha. He lets out a pleased rumble, his fingers dragging through your slick coated slit. You whine needily, pushing back against his hand. 

“Easy.” He says, pressing close behind you. “Alpha’s got you.” 

Your eyes nearly roll back as he sinks into you again, the change in position nearly making you see stars as he begins fucking in you, the snap of his hips against yours rocking your body on the carpet. Your knees burn but you can hardly feel it as he fucks you through an orgasm, your walls clenching desperately around his cock. Your brain is going hazy again as you feel the swelling at the base of his cock pushing up against your entrance, drool pooling on the carpet beneath you as you wait for it, wait for him to push his knot inside you and tie the two of you together. 

“Alpha...alpha...” You chant the title like a mantra, the sounds slurring together as you push back against him. 

“Take it,” He grunts, his fingers digging into your hips as he holds you steady in place. He pushes against you, his knot stretching your pussy as he begins pushing it into you. “Take it...good girl.” 

You whine as his knot pops into place, your body shuddering with another orgasm from the gaping stretch around him. He grinds his hips against you, his knot tugging at the entrance of your pussy as you clench tightly around him. He cums with a groan, his body falling over yours as he spurts his seed into you. You lay there, whining and panting beneath him, sweat still dripping down your back. 

Your brain is starting to float away, your mind going hazy again, but you’re not fighting it this time. You’re giving into your instincts, unable to do anything but submit to them, submit to your alpha. 

“I’ve got you.” Price says softly, gently brushing the sweaty strands of hair from your face that have fallen loose from your braid. 

You give into the haze, trusting him to take care of you. 

You’re not sure when you moved to the bed. It’s the crackle of the mattress protector that’s pulled you from your haze for a moment. One of those rare moments of clarity post-knot as you come back into your brain enough to be semi-aware of your surroundings. You won’t remember it by the time you come out of your heat, lost in the mush of hazy memories from the week. 

Your pussy is pulsing around John’s knot, his chest pressed into your back. You still feel hot, feverish as you lay there half out of it. John’s right arm is under you, wrapped around so his hand is against your chest. He’s holding the cap of an electrolyte bottle in his right hand, the plastic cool against your heated skin. 

There’s hands moving in front of you, pulling a charging cord from one phone to put it in the other. There’s voices, but you’re too far in the haze to understand what they’re saying. There’s a scent in the air, clearer and softer than the heavy musk that’s settled in the room. It goes straight to your head, nearly making you black out again. You want to taste it, your tongue darting out to lick your lips. 

Your hand shoots out, surprising even you with how fast it’s moved. Your brain feels slow as it tries to catch up with the movement, your fingers wrapped around someone’s wrist. Your hand has a mind of its own as it pulls the wrist closer, pressing it against your face. 

A soft, fresh scent fills your nose, your eyes fluttering as it pulses through you, your pussy convulsing around John’s knot. He groans behind you, his hips shifting just slightly in response. Your tongue darts out, licking at the wrist pressed against your face, trying to taste the scent. 

Salty, briney, fresh. The sea, you remember from the haze in your mind. It smells like the sea. You continue to lick it, wanting it to consume you, to sink into your brain and ease the aching need. 

“Careful, love.” A soft voice says, cutting through the scent-induced haze you’re in. 

The attached body tries to pull the wrist in your grip away, but you let out a whine, fingers tightening around it as you pull it closer. You drag your tongue against the skin again, letting out a quiet whine. You need it, your hand trembling around his wrist. 

The word feels heavy on your tongue, your heat-addled, scent drunk brain trying to form it on your lips, pushing it from your mind until it vibrates in the air audibly. The process feels like it takes minutes, when in reality it was likely only seconds. You tug on the wrist again, trying to bring the source closer. 

“Stay.” 

NEXT ->

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[violentdelights-violentendss]

Logan Going Into a Rut.

Would you guys like a part two? I could make a part two if you guys want….let me know how it is and please request a thousand more things I am eagerly awaiting your requests!!! (I am also working on the ones I already got!) I didn’t spell check this….

Pairing: Logan Howlett (Wolverine) x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Logan goes into a rut earlier than he expected.

Logan had woken up that morning significantly earlier than he usually did. You were still sleeping peacefully next to him, entangled in the sheets you had stolen from him during the night. Logan didn’t mind too much, being always warm. But that morning, he felt even hotter than usual. He slid his hand against his bare chest, feeling it to be slick with sweat. He closed his eyes, massaging his temples, before he shook his morning drowsiness and confusion away, deciding he would not be able to sleep any longer. He walked to the bathroom, deciding to take a cold shower even if it was the heart of winter.

He wasn’t too mad about the early start, Charles having drowned him in a very extensive list of things to do, not counting the lessons he had to begrudgingly teach that afternoon. Logan stepped outside of the bathroom, fully clothed and ready for the day, even if he still felt a little drowsy. He chalked it up to having eaten too heavily the night before, maybe the digestion worsening his sleep.

He checked himself in the mirror, making sure he looked decent. He started heading towards the door of your room. Right before he left, he glanced at you, making sure you were still in deep sleep. Logan’s eyes froze on your figure: your sleeping shorts had slid up your body, revealing your thighs, and your braless tits hidden underneath the shirt you had stolen from him begged him to jump back into bed with you. He exhaled loudly. Logan gripped the door so tightly he thought his claws would come out. He needed to go work. He shook his head, cursing Charles as he shut the door behind him.

•

Logan had been running around the X mansion fulfilling various tasks, not noticing as the day slowly, and sluggishly slid forward. The gloominess of the morning left its place to the timid rays of the winter sun, that caressed his back as he finished fixing a broken kitchen cabinet. A multitude of students had already waltzed inside the kitchen, still half asleep. They had uttered a sleepy ‘good morning’, before they grabbed a little food. Logan grunted in response, too focused on the darn kitchen cabinet. The flow of students had significantly slower when he had managed to finally fix it.

Logan slammed down the screwdriver. “Fucking finally.” He closed and opened the cabinet a few times, smiling proudly when the cabinet door did not decide to dramatically clatter to the ground rather choosing to finally stay in place.

“What are you celebrating, baby?”

Your voice startled him, but he quickly turned around, a type of smile reserved for you only gracing his lips. “(Y/N).” You grinned back at him. “I managed to fix this darn cabinet door that someone, managed to detach in the dead of night.”

Your eyes glinted. “You have a gut feeling about who did it?”

“Definitely.” Logan replied, walking around the counter to hold your waist. “I woke up super early this morning.” He added. You pulled back from his chest, worry dancing in your eyes. “No nothing serious, bub, I just think I ate a dinner that was too heavy.”

Your eyes relaxed, pushing up on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to your boyfriend’s lips. You were about to pull back when Logan suddenly deepened the kiss, darting his tongue in your mouth. You leaned back into the kiss, letting yourself be pulled by Logan’s large, warm hands on your waist. The man grunted into the kiss, his body starting to tingle on fire, desire coursing through your veins. The way he was pulling you close seemed desperate, as if he needed you to breathe.

You gasped in shock when his hands slid onto your waist and pressed you against his crotch, feeling his already erected cock. “Already hard?” You whispered, looking down at the evident bulge in his pants. Logan pushed you against the counter, caging you against it. His chest heaved frantically.

“No idea, darling. You’re making me go crazy today.” He whispered, before he dove back into the kiss. You fully lost yourself in it, knowing the kitchen was pretty much deserted at this point in time. He pressed into the kiss, his tongue caressing your mouth, desire making his chest burn incandescently. Your eyes fluttered shut, letting your hands roam on his large back, his scent making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You were about to suggest moving it to the bedroom when Logan suddenly pulled back, pressing his crotch tightly against yours and caging you tightly against his chest. You glanced up at him, worried something happened when you noticed his legs were quivering. A moan erupted from his lips, and his hips thrusted against yours. “(Y/N), oh my god!” He grunted. You didn’t know what was happening till you felt wetness from Logan’s crotch, seeping into your leggings, as his head was thrown back, and he panted loudly.

“Did…Logan did you cum?” You asked, startled: he usually lasted more than a few rounds. His endurance was crazy. Logan’s eyes fluttered open, lust blowing his pupils wide. He slowly looked at you, disbelief clearly evident on his face. You tentatively bucked your hips, watching as he shivered.

“I think…” Logan swallowed, reaching his hand to feel his crotch. “My rut might be coming early.” He closed his eyes, cursing himself: the sweat, the ever present arousal, the shitty sleep…it was all there. Your eyes widened, shooting down to the clear stain on his light blue pants, and the evident bulge that was already growing again.

“Fuck, today is not the day for that.” You cursed.

“What, why?” Logan asked, grunting when he felt the head of his cock press against the seam of his jeans. Why did he decide to go commando today of all days.

“I have that overnight field trip with my students! I can’t bail last minute.” You cried, your eyes widening. Logan’s face contorted into a grimace of pain, a curse rolling out of his mouth, as he realized this day would suck. A lot. He would have to spend the day locked in your room, rutting against your panties to try and feel any sort of momentary solace. But he knew you could not desert your students just like that. Even if he acted all gruff and scary, he knew what caring for students meant, and he would not rip their favorite teacher away from them, especially during a field trip that was only supposed to be joyful.

He caressed your cheeks. “It’s gonna be alright, baby. I’ll figure it out.” He lied through his teeth, already feeling his skin starting to burn and itch with almost irresistible lust.

You glared back at him. “No, it’s not fine and we both know it. You know what, I’ll come back tonight. I won’t stay overnight. How does that sound, baby? Huh?” You asked, pulling against his shirt to try and get him to concentrate through the daze of lust that was already taking over.

Logan nodded, his head spinning. “Yeah, that would be great, love.” He whispered. You moved against him, trying to reach your phone to check the time, your knee gliding against his bulge. “Fuck!” Logan croaked, throwing his head back.

You locked your phone, glancing up at him. “Logan, baby, I still have 10 minutes. What can I do?” You asked, caressing his chest.

Before he replied, Logan gently grabbed your arm, dragging the both of you inside the supply closet, and locking the door behind you.

Safely inside, Logan closed his eyes, trying to look past his primal instincts, and deem what would be the best course of action. Objectively, fucking you would keep him satisfied the longest, but there wasn’t time in 10 minutes. He discarded his rationality, fully relying on his animal instincts, knowing what they desired in the moment would keep him satisfied the most. “This…might be weird, baby, but I just need to rut against you, please.” His voice was heavy with need.

“Baby, I’m here. I’m here for everything.” You reassured him, spreading your legs, letting Logan position his crotch right in between, were he needed to be. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you still as he started to thrust against you. His face soon contorting in a grimace of pleasure, even a drop of drool sliding down the side of his mouth.

Your hands raked Logan’s back underneath his shirt, letting him feel your skin on his. His beautiful eyes slid open, his gaze landing on your tits, that bounced delicately with every trust. “Your tits, babygirl…need to see them.” Logan whispered in your ear. You pressed an open mouthed kiss to his neck before you unzipped your jacket, revealing your light tank top underneath: you were going out with your students to a nature park, you needed to be sporty.

You reached for your neckline, feeling Logan’s hand wrap around yours to yank your tits out faster. When they were right in front of his eyes, Logan mewled loudly, leaning down to kiss you fervently as his hips started to jackhammer faster.

Somehow, even in the daze of his lust, Logan had managed to perfectly align his tip with your clit, making you see stars. Your moans quickly started mingling with his. His large hands reached your left thigh, hoisting it up to wrap around his waist. “Right - nghh - there! Logan!” You cried, hearing your boyfriend’s quiet pants fill your ears.

“Gonna make me cum in my pants again. God, you turn me into a horny teenager.” He murmured, his rhythm slowing down for a second before it started picking up again.

Your phone buzzed, showing you the time. “Logan…I need to go soon!” You whimpered, threading your hands through his hair.

“I’m close.” He reassured you, his lidded eyes landing on your jiggling tits. They dragged a broken moan out of his lips. Logan was only ever this loud when he was experiencing his rut. “Are you?” You nodded quickly.

The knot in your stomach had been tightening for a while, and reacted the second it was called to attention. You wrapped your arms tightly around Logan, pressing him against you, practically shoving his face in between your breasts. “Logan!” You cried, throwing your head back, as the thigh he was holding quivered in his hand, orgasming powerfully.

The sudden surge of the smell of your arousal made Logan go crazy, sighing against your tits before he pulled back. He stopped for a second, even if he was close. You watched him, dazed, still descending from your high. Through your tired eyes and panting chest, you watched as Logan hastily unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans pulling out his cock. He quickly placed his leaking cock in between your legs, and you had the reflex to shut your thighs to allow him a little more pleasure.

“Fuck. I could fuck you for hours!” He whispered, starting to move his hips as quickly as he could. You leaned forward, licking a strip up his neck, landing on a spot you knew sent him crazy and gently nibbling on it. Logan’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, the sensation of your leggings against his sensitive tip, and your delicate teeth against his neck finally pushing him to the edge.

The orgasm was so powerful he didn’t even have time to warn you. His hips just sped up, his voice ripped away from the pleasure. He didn’t even manage to utter your name, just gripping your waist with his fingers. His mouth snapped open when he felt his orgasm reach him. Logan’s claws sprung out of his hands, puncturing two bags of rice that were placed on the shelves you were pressed against. Just as the rice started tumbling to the ground, Logan cummed, distinctly hearing his cum splatter on the floor.

Your boyfriend slumped against you, his claws retracting, his thighs shivering. You caressed his back, pressing soft kisses against his neck. “You did so well, baby.” You cooed, moving your hands to massage his head. Logan nodded, spent.

Your phone buzzed again, your students asking where you were. You cursed, hastily pulling your shirt back up and zipping your jacket. You clasped Logan’s jawline, forcing him to look at you through his post-orgasm daze. “I’m going to come back as soon as I can. Love you so much, baby.” You whispered, pressing your forehead against him.

Logan’s hands ran down to your waist, dragging you into a kiss. Your bodies melted together, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and yanking him closer. Not even a piece of paper could have fit through you. You pulled back, eyeing the string of saliva connecting you. “If we keep going like this, a bigger pool of cum will be on the floor.” You whispered, starting to head towards the door.

Logan grinned, lazily passing his hand through his hair. “Go, have fun. I’ll clean up here. I’ll be waiting for you tonight.” His eyes glinted with an erotic promise. You grinned, blowing a flying kiss. Logan watched the door close behind you, pulling his jeans back up and hastily disinfecting the floor.

He walked outside, quickly going to inform Charles he would be off today before he headed back to the room. He could still feel his buzzing desire for you deep inside his skin, but he felt somewhat satisfied as he threw his shirt on the floor, letting himself fall on the bed. Logan moved on his side, trying to get some sleep to get a break from his lust, but as he adjusted himself on the mattress, his eyes landed on the dirty panties you had accidentally forgotten on the ground. Your scent reached his sensitive nose, drugging him immediately.

Logan glanced down towards his crotch. He was hard again. “Fuck!” He yelled, falling back down on the bed, exasperated. It would be a long, long, day.