#I have spent two hours laying in bed taking deep breaths and wiggling my feet n only now am I feeling okay ish

[makkie-is-screaming]

idk how I’m gonna be a functioning person when going to the park with my cousin fucked me up so bad I only now feel like I’m actually in my body

[ladylooch]

Faking an orgasm with Nico?

Fake- Nico Hischier

A/N: I love these different ideas that come into my inbox! You all have great ideas and I’m honored when you trust me with them! For real tho, don’t cheat yourself out of a good time. If they aren’t hitting you with what you need, explore that with open communication!

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: SMUT 18 + Content.

The headboard slaps against the wall with each one of Nico’s sloppy thrusts into me. The bed groans with the same inflection as my boyfriend. I wrap my feet around his butt, trying to keep him deep while tightening up my inner muscles to create some friction. It doesn’t help me, but Nico moans against my mouth as he leans down to kiss me.

“I’m close.” He says through another wet moan.

I’m not, but I can tell by how this has all gone that Nico is more about himself tonight than me. And that’s fine because usually it’s the opposite. Plus I’m still having a damn good time with him. I exaggerate a needy moan to him that he matches. I tighten my breathing, producing needy gasps, until I almost believe that I’m actually orgasming.

“Yessss.” He sputters as he jerks his last few thrusts into me. 

The headboard finally silences and only Nico’s rough breathing fills the room. He shakes the hair out of his eyes, grinning down at me in blinding satisfaction. 

“Mmm, I love ya.” He muses then rolls off of me. 

“Love you.” I murmur back, arching my back to stretch out a compressed kink in my lower back.

“Come here.” He opens his arm for me to bury my face into his side. He drops a kiss to my scalp then combs his fingers through my hair in steady strokes. Now this feels incredible.

Nico’s hot, wet kisses awaken my naked body the next morning. He tastes every part of me before practice, ending our love making with a ravenous and sweet breakfast between my legs.

“So how was your night last night?” Ryleigh asks me later. We both lay flat on our backs after an hour long workout session at our apartment gym. Her and Dawson live in the same building, so we usually squeeze in a work out and lunch a few times a week while the boys are at practice.

“It was fine.” I bring my leg up, stretching out my hamstring. I sigh at how good it feels.

“Just fine? With how Nico was hanging on you when you two left?” I roll my eyes at the memory of him licking the shell of my ear obscenely in front of the team. Drunk Nico hits different when he sheds the C for the night.

“Yeah, take that eagerness and move it to the bedroom.” I chuckle, wiggling my hips in an awkward motion.

“Oooooo….” She cringes. “Sloppy?”

“Yeah.”

“He rocked your world in the end?”

“God, no.” I snort. “Could have won an Oscar with my performance though.”

Ryleigh laughs at the same time I hear the door to the gym swing open. I look up from my spot on the floor, not seeing anyone there. I bring my other leg up to stretch out.

“He more than made up for it this morning though.”

Ryleigh’s phone dings.

“Boys are back.” She says, surprised.

“Wow, must have been a quick practice.” We both gather our water bottles, phones, and headphones before heading to the elevator. When we get to our floor, we both peel off in different directions, confirming to meet up at the same time tomorrow.

“Hey!” I say brightly to Nico when I get back to our place. He gives me a strange smile from the counter where he is flipping through the mail. “You’re back early.”

“Yeah, we worked on special teams for like 15 minutes, then spent a good chunk of time in recovery. Got a lot of games coming up.” He tosses a pile of mail onto the counter, then comes to give me a stack.

“Thanks.” I pucker my lips. He pauses for a moment, studying my face, then slowly leans down to brush our lips together. “Hey, that was lame. Kiss me for real.” I wrap my hand into a first with his shirt. I hold him there until the pressure of his mouth on mine is satisfying. “Mmm, better.” I think I catch an annoyed tiff from him, but it’s so quick I’m not sure. I slide my gaze to the mail, fingering through the envelopes and deciding it’s nothing urgent. 

“I’m going to rinse off in the shower.”

“Okay.” I say to the empty room because Nico has already disappeared. I stare at the empty doorway, wondering what happened at practice that took away his cheery mood from this morning.

Nico is usually an in and out of the shower kind of guy, so I’m surprised when I look up from my book and realize its been about a half hour since he went into our bathroom. I set my book down, strolling down the hall as he is coming out of the bathroom. His hair is towel dried and he’s already dressed in new boxer briefs and pants. The wide, thick muscles of his back tense as his fingers work to button his jeans closed.

He doesn’t look up as I come behind him. I wrap my arms around his body, gliding my fingers slowly up his abdomen. He doesn’t react, just stands there silently.

“I know you just showered but maybe you and I can work up a little sweat?” I murmur, pressing my lips to his bare back. He tenses under my mouth.

“How so?”

“You touch me… I touch you… we touch some things together….” He snags a random t-shirt off the hanger, tugging it hard off the plastic.

“I think one Oscar performance from you is enough for one day. Or was it two?” He pulls away from me, leaving me confused in our closet. Then, I remember the swinging door from earlier. I close my eyes. Fuck.

I walk into the bedroom where Nico has already thrown the shirt over his shoulders, moving it down his abdomen so it rests against his jeans. He runs an exasperated hand through his hair before moving to the dresser to strap his watch back on.

“You heard me?”

“Tell someone else you faked an orgasm? Yeah I did.” His tone is gruff and he scoffs after he says it.

“Can we talk about it?”

“I think the time to talk about it was last night when you were faking it beneath me.”

“Neeks, come on.” I reach out for his forearm as he tries to walk around me. He stops next to me when my hand squeezes his skin.

“Why would you do that?” His voice is low with an obvious hurt.

“You were almost there and… I wanted you to feel good.” I shrug.

“But I want you to feel good. Every time.”

“I know. Last night was just an off night for us.”

“Did you this morning too?” A harsh line forms between his thick eyebrows.

“No. Last night was the first and last. I promise.” I run my hand up his arm to his neck. My fingers grip it, bringing his face down to mine. “This morning was amazing. You’re all I thought about during my work out.” I kiss his cheek, working my way to his mouth. The first press is against slacked lips. But then his lips slowly firm under mine to kiss me back. “I love you. I’m sorry. I should have told you I needed a little extra.”

“Yeah.” He sighs against my mouth as my fingers rub his penis over his jeans. He’s thickening with each pass.

“I can make it up to you?” I murmur as I lower to my knees.

“I think I’m supposed to make it up to you.” He says with heavy eyes.

Instead, his hand gathers my hair into a tight fist while he slides himself deep into my mouth, without another distinguishable word.

[scuttling]

Head Over Feet - Chapter 3

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Spencer Reid/Female Reader (Unrequited) Word Count: 4,597 Chapters: 3/? WIP (I think 4 but you know me!) Tags: 18+, NSFW, Unrequited love, Protected sex, Oral sex, Vaginal fingering, Rough sex, Friends with benefits, Praise kink, Daddy kink Summary: Falling in love with one of your two closest friends was never something you planned; it only makes sense that falling in love with the other would also come as a complete surprise. *Inspired by/in collaboration with @ssamorganhotchner. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Link to AO3 or read chapter 3 below! You make it to Aaron’s just a couple minutes after he does; he’s removed his jacket, shoes, and gun, and his collar is unbuttoned, tie loosened but not untied. You wrap your fingers in it the moment you see him, work open the knot, and he leans in to kiss you, guides you fully inside so he can close the door behind you.

You pull his tie off, unbutton his shirt, unclasp his belt, kissing all the while—deep, eager, breathless kisses; when you have no choice but to pull back for air, you’re both panting, fingers still working to get you out of your clothes.

“How was your day? Good?” he asks, chest heaving as he pulls your sweater over your head, and you nod, wet your lips.

“Good, yeah. Yours?” He nods too.

“Good.”

“That’s good.” You surge up for a kiss, unbutton his pants and untuck his shirt, pull it off and drop it onto the floor. His hands find your waist and he maneuvers you through the living room, toward the sofa; you pause, press a hand against it, lift your leg to unzip one boot, then the other, and kick them off and under the coffee table.

He guides you to his bedroom—you’re walking backward, and it’s almost as if he drags you, his hands holding you tightly, long legs leading the way. You trip, tip-toe your way there, know he’d never let you stumble or fall, and when you stop at the foot of the bed you reach down, pull down his zipper, push his pants to the floor. He takes your face in his hands, meets you for a hot, messy kiss, and then you pull his undershirt over his head, quickly wiggle out of your jeans.

“You are so gorgeous,” he breathes, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and pulling you in for another deep, wet kiss. He tilts his head the other way, nose against your cheek, tongue in your mouth, gripping you hard, and you moan into the kiss; you’re a little surprised at how that simple gesture, the hand on the nape of your neck, makes you feel wild and out of control. “Hmm. Do you like that?” he asks softly in your ear, squeezing his fingers, and you lick your lips, nod.

“Yeah. You can be a little rough; I like rough.” He pulls back to make eye contact, holds your gaze for a moment, and then unhooks your bra with the hand not on your neck, guides it off. Still looking into your eyes—your breath comes quick from arousal, not exertion—he slides your panties down, and then he moves both hands to your ass, lifts you up, and deposits you on the bed; you’re sitting up, but he pushes your arms so you’ll lay flat, holds you there a moment, and you moan again. Jesus.

“Can I eat your pussy?” he asks, low, leaning in to mouth at your throat, and you grip his shoulders, gasping softly when he nips at your neck.

“Fuck. Yes.” He pulls you closer to the edge of the bed, kneels on the ground, and opens your thighs with strong hands, licks over you slowly with a flat tongue. “Mmm. Oh my god.”

Broad swipes turn to targeted slips of tongue between your lips, quick flicks over your clit, and when he presses closer you run your hand fondly over his head, grip his hair roughly at the roots. He groans against your skin, sucks hard at your clit, and brings his hands up to squeeze your breasts, and you can’t help rocking up against his face, whining and moaning and begging for release.

“Please, Aaron. I want to come for you.” He looks up at you, gliding his mouth over your soaked folds, and takes back a hand, slides one finger inside you and then curls his tongue around it. “Oh, yes, please. Yes.” Another thick finger pushes in, presses up, pumps quickly, and you tense, arch off the bed, a string of whimpers falling from your lips as you come.

“So good, sweetheart,” he breathes, and he lifts you and guides you up the bed, so your head rests against the pillows. Your chest is heaving, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, and he lays on top of you, moves his mouth to yours, gets you to open it for a soft, wet kiss. “Suck my fingers, baby.” He presses them into your mouth, and you hold his hand, suck them hard and messy until he pulls them out, kisses you again. “I’m going to get a condom, I’ll be right back. Just a second.” You nod, let your head fall lazily back against the pillows, and he comes back, pushes his boxers down, and climbs over you.

“Let me?” He hands you the packet, watches you carefully tear it open, slip it over him, and you run your hands along his body, lean up for kisses until he guides you back and opens your legs wider with his knees.

The second he’s inside you, you both grab at each other, your hands on his back and one of his on your face while the other presses against the bed for support. He fucks harder, faster than the first time, and you eagerly match his pace, slide your hands down to dig your fingertips into his ass.

“Oh, fuck. Aaron,” you pant, and he brushes his fingers over your lips, then moves that hand to the bed as well, so he can press deeper. You hitch your legs up high, squeeze them against his hips, hold on to his ass as he fills you so completely it’s almost too much. “Yeah, fuck me. Oh, god.”

“Yeah, just like that. There’s my good girl.” You whimper, and he pounds his hips against yours, lowers himself down to his elbows and slips an arm behind your shoulders, holds you close like an embrace, kisses you breathless.

It doesn’t take long for you to come, not with his body pressed to yours, his mouth on yours, his cock so thick and so deep inside you; you mumble his name, Aaron and Hotch like your brain can’t keep up, and then he comes too, brings a hand to your cheek and just stares into your eyes while he frantically thrusts, then slows, then stops.

You sigh, bring your hands up, one on his wrist where he cradles your face, the other brushing through his hair; he shifts off of you, to the side, but you just hold each other for a moment, catching your breath, kissing softly.

Eventually he leaves to dispose of the condom, comes back and pulls you against his chest; you slip your legs between his, run your hand up and down his arm.

“So what did he do?” he asks after a couple of minutes, his voice a little rough, and you tilt your head to look up at him.

“What?” He doesn’t make eye contact.

“What did Reid do? To get you so worked up?” You feel a hot rush of shame, press your cheek against his chest because you can’t bear to look at him.

“He said he loves her. That he’s waiting for the right moment to tell her.” He hums, just a thoughtful sound, no judgement, and you shift up, rest a hand on his cheek so he’ll look at you. Your own idiocy aside, he needs to see you say this. “But I thought about you all day. I couldn’t get you out of my mind, and that had nothing to do with him—nothing.” He looks you over like he can’t decide if you’re just saying it, or if it’s true, and you brush your lips softly over his, put as much feeling as you can into the gentle touch.

He closes his eyes, exhales, brings you close for another series of tender kisses, then punctuates them with a press of lips to your forehead.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asks, and then he smiles softly, and you kiss him again and dangle over the edge of the bed, grab your phone out of your pocket, and cuddle close to look over some menus.

You opt for Lebanese, eat way too much baba ganoush, and lay your head on his lap and read while he watches the news. About a month later, you wake up at Aaron’s after yet another night spent in his bed—your twelfth consecutive night together at one of your apartments. You leave early, head home to shower and change, only grumbling a little about how you won’t have time to stop for coffee; when you get to the office, there’s a coffee cup with a stopper in it sitting on your desk, and you smile, pluck the stopper out and take a sip. It’s a perfect latte, still piping hot, and it makes your chest warm in a way that has nothing to do with the temperature.

“Secret admirer?” JJ asks, walking down from her office. “I saw it there when I came in but didn’t see who left it.”

“It was just Hotch,” you say, but just Hotch doesn’t really mean what it used to. He’s been your friend for a while, that’s not a secret, even though your friends with benefits thing kind of is—you don’t actively hide anything from anyone, but neither of you have felt the need to clue anyone in—but you can feel yourself becoming a little more… possessive, of him. It’s ridiculous: just because you’re sleeping with him doesn’t mean he’s yours, or that he owes you anything, you know that, but you’re more aware than ever of when someone pays a little too much attention to him.

It’s painfully obvious when you are in Charlotte later that week, working out of the FBI field office there; it’s your second day on the case, and one of the agents assisting you flirts with him in the breakroom. Openly.

“The coffee here is horrible,” she begins, standing next to him at the coffee maker as he waits for a fresh pot. You came in for a refill too, but he beat you to it, and then she showed up and squirmed her way in between you as if you weren’t literally in the middle of a conversation. “If you want, I can take you to my favorite cafe across the street. They grind the beans every half hour, so it’s always very fresh.” She’s turned toward Aaron, can’t see you, so you roll your eyes; he catches it, tries to hide a smile, but the agent thinks it’s for her. “Is that a yes, Agent Hotchner?” She lays a hand on his arm, but he clears his throat and he takes a half step back, politely and effectively removing it.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m spoken for.” The woman turns to look at you—she’s clearly unhappy about being turned down, more so since you’re standing just inches away—and you smile your polite, fake, public servant smile until she takes the hint and leaves the break room. You move closer to Aaron like you were before she arrived, your arms crossed in irritation, and he pours you a cup of coffee, hands it to you, leans in to whisper in your ear. “Play nice, kitty.”

His words send heat throughout your body, and when he pulls back you just stare at him for a second. If you weren’t so exposed, you’d put down the coffee, grab him by his tie, and kiss him until you’re both stupid, but there are agents walking back and forth past the windows, the open door, so all you can do is look at him. You make it count, make sure to tell him with your eyes that you cannot wait to get him to get him naked; it must be effective, because he wets his lips, flicks his gaze over your body. It’s only when someone clears their throat in the doorway that you look away from each other, and even then it takes a moment.

“Hey you two,” Emily says, hands on the doorframe. “We’ve got a witness that just came forward, Morgan’s going to take him into interrogation now. You probably want to come see this.” Naturally, the witness only further complicates your investigation; you’re all glad your killer takes his time choosing a new victim, because it buys you a little more time, and you have a solid profile by the next morning. You split up to canvass the neighborhoods, to go door to door asking if anyone knows a man who fits your profile—you’re partnered with Spencer, who seems more anxious than usual, and that’s kind of saying something.

“Are you doing alright?” you ask him as you walk up to a red brick house, knock on the front door. He presses his lips together, nods, hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, I’m good. Are you?” You look over at him, raise an eyebrow, and he rocks a little on his heels. “You’ve cancelled the last couple of movie nights; we haven’t spoken much.” You knock on the door again, but there’s still no answer.

“I’ve been busy; you’ve been busy too, you know how it is.” You gesture to the next house, pull out your phone to jot down this house number so you don’t forget it and head down the sidewalk. “How are things with Chelsea?” He hums noncommittally, and you shove him lightly with your shoulder. “Come on, it’s okay. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know.” It hasn’t been exactly easy, the last month—hearing how close the two of them have grown, how he told her he loves her and she said it back, how he has a drawer at her apartment—but it’s been easier. (Aaron doesn’t have a drawer at yours, you think absently, hasn’t asked for one, but you figure that’s by design; it’s a good reminder of what your relationship is, and isn’t.)

“They’re good. She gets a little frustrated when I’m gone for a while, when I have to cancel plans.”

“Most people are like that; they don’t live the life, so they don’t really get it. That’s normal,” you assure him. You’re a little surprised that it comes so easily, just like it would have before your big confession. He takes the lead this time, opens the screen door of a light blue bungalow and knocks three times.

“Is that how your… boyfriend is?” You bring your hand up to your face like a visor, peer in through the small windows on either side of the door, avoid eye contact.

“He understands,” is all you say. It’s too complicated to try to explain your relationship with Aaron, and you’re both comfortable with how it is now, not exactly secret but not exactly public; you don’t want to jeopardize it any way. “And she might, too, eventually. Just give it time.” You pull back, smile softly. “Looks like no one’s home. Why did we decide to canvass at one o’clock on a Wednesday?” Spencer shrugs.

“Because Hotch said.”

“Oh, that’s right. I’m going to text that dummy; you drive.” You hand him the keys, slide into your seat and buckle up, then tug your phone out of your pocket.

Canvassing was a bust—no one’s home. Whose bright idea was that again?

Excuse me? You grin, look out the window so Spencer won’t see it.

I think you may be getting past your prime. Time for a younger man to take your place?

You better watch your mouth, baby.

Or what, daddy?

You send it before you even realize what you said; it just sort of came out. The next several minutes pass by agonizingly slowly, and you’re about to send a panicked text, either backtracking or trying to play it off as a joke, when he replies.

You’ll just have to wait and see. Come back to the office. I’ll give you new instructions.

On the way.

Good girl. You almost whimper. He knows how those words affect you—torrential downpour in your panties—and he knows you’re in the car with Spencer. He’s playing a very naughty game, one you desperately want to participate in. You start to type...

“What did he say?” ...and then you drop your phone on your foot, turn to Spencer with a questioning frown.

“Hmm?”

“What did Hotch say? When you told him we didn’t have any luck.” You reach down to pick up your phone, and your seat belt tightens, restricting your movement. You huff, sit back in your seat.

“Uh. He said to head back to the office and he’d figure out something for us to do.” Spencer nods, and you blow out a breath, lean your head against the headrest and close your eyes.

Thankfully, the ride back to the office is short, and the two of you head for the room the team is set up in. Aaron stands when you enter, gives you a brief once over, and then rattles off new details the other groups have learned, gives you new assignments. Spencer leaves to meet up with JJ and Derek, but you hang back when Aaron softly says your name.

“Your text,” he begins carefully, and you take a deep breath. “What you called me. Is it okay if we continue that?”

“Yeah, it’s okay with me; more than. Is it okay with you?” He nods, moves a little closer; he glances up, like he’s looking toward the door behind you, then slides his hand to cover the back of your neck, squeezes it.

“It’s okay with me; more than. Be careful,” he murmurs, and then he releases you and you swallow hard, get back to your assignments.

The unsub is tracked, cornered, captured by nightfall, and you fly home despite the late hour. Everyone grumbles on the flight, about wanting to sleep in their own beds, or take a hot shower with better water pressure, but all you can think of is taking off Aaron’s clothes, maybe getting on your knees for him.

When you get back to the parking garage, you head for your car, but Aaron stops you with a hand on your arm. “Just come with me,” he says—he’s not asking, and you’re not about to argue. If anyone finds it strange that you leave with him, they don’t mention it, don’t even throw you a second glance.

You try to behave on the drive back to your place, but it’s so difficult. You squeeze his thighs when he comes to a stop at traffic lights, loosen his tie, run your fingers through his hair; he is just as turned on as you are, which is saying something, considering you’ve been nearly constantly horny since he called you kitty yesterday. He parks in your designated spot, turns off the car, and you release your seat belt, all but pounce on him. You push your hand past the open collar of his shirt, kiss his throat, curl your tongue around his ear, and he puts his hands on your face, kisses your mouth hard, then pulls you back.

“Inside; I need to fuck you.”

Yeah, you’re not going to argue with that either.

You get out of the car, try to help him with your bags, though he won’t let you; you fumble with the keys in the locks, you’re that turned on, but once you get upstairs, get the door to your apartment open, you’re both desperate again, pulling each other’s clothing off, kissing rough and deep. Shoes, socks, pants, and underwear are the first things to go, quickly removed, leaving you in a t-shirt and bra; you take Aaron’s dress shirt off, get him down to just the undershirt, but when you work your hands up his body he kisses you breathless, takes a step back.

“Stay there, right there; just like that,” he rasps, and you don’t move, just wait for him to walk to your bedroom, grab a condom, stand in front of you again. He says nothing, just looks you over, your heaving chest, wide eyes, spit slicked lips, and he rolls the condom on, walks you back against the wall; you gasp when you’re pressed against it, and he leans in, kisses your neck, nips at your jaw.

You moan softly, tip your head so he can reach more of your throat; one of his big hands comes down to rest on your pussy, rubbing easily, and then he pushes two fingers inside like it’s nothing. You’re already ready, so ready, and you wrap a hand around the back of his head, scratch over his scalp, whimper while he pumps his fingers a few more times before withdrawing them.

He wipes his fingers on his shirt, gets his hands under your thighs, and boosts you up, back against the wall, legs on either side of his waist. “Aaron, fuck,” you gasp, pushing up his shirt and wrapping your arms around his back, and he presses inside you, leans in for a messy, eager kiss and groans against your mouth.

“Hold on tight, kitten; I’m going to be rough,” he pants, lips hovering over yours, and you grip him, digging in with your nails. They aren’t long, or very sharp, but he loves when they scrape down his back as he fucks you into the mattress; you can’t imagine this will be any different. “That’s it; just let me use you, okay?”

“Okay, daddy,” you breathe, and he starts thrusting, pinning you up against the wall. You can feel his muscles flex beneath your hands, and he kisses and bites at your throat as his hips pump against yours; it’s almost overwhelming, and you’d close your eyes if he didn’t look so incredibly sexy, determined, slamming his cock into you, banging your body against the wall. “Oh, fuck.”

“Take it all like a good girl, like daddy’s good girl,” he says, eyes on yours, and he lifts one of your legs, swings it over his forearm so you’re spread further, so he can pound deeper inside you. All you can do is clutch him, try your best to bounce into his thrusts, and moan, and when he comes you move a hand to his hair, grab it roughly, grind down against him. “Oh, that’s it. God.” He tips his head back, exhales long and slow, and you lick your lips, keep moving until he tells you to stop.

He sets you on your feet, pulls out carefully and throws the condom in the trash, then crowds you up against the wall, wraps his hand around the back of your neck, kisses you deep and dirty and messy, lots of tongue and the occasional rough press of his teeth against your bottom lip. He pulls back, looks down at you, squeezes your neck, and you whimper.

“Daddy?”

“What is it?” You squirm a little; there’s no way he forgot, didn’t realize you didn’t get off. He’s always been very attentive, very good at making sure you’re satisfied. You wet your lips.

“I want to come.” He hums, takes his other hand and rubs it over your pussy, and you buck forward, whimper again.

“Can you think of a better way to ask for that, baby?” You move your hands over his back again, beneath his shirt, look up at him with soft, sensitive eyes.

“Can I please come, please?” It takes a moment, but he nods, moves his fingers to your clit and rubs them quickly, so quickly it’s dizzying. You moan, cling to him, and he leans close, presses his forehead to yours, looks down at you while he takes you apart with just his fingertips. “Oh, yes. Oh, fuck.”

“You like that, kitten? Then come for me.” You want to, so badly, you murmur it into the space between your mouths; when you finally climax, you whine, hold on to him, nearly go weak in the knees, and he lifts you up again and carries you to the bedroom, lays you gently back on the bed.

He moves toward you, and you curl yourself around him, hold him close; you wind up on your sides, one of your legs between his and the other slung over his waist, and he murmurs praise into your ear, pretty and perfect and so sweet and good. You pull his shirt over his head, and he removes yours, your bra, and you just lay there and hold each other, kiss, content.

Kissing turns to nibbling your throat again, and you wrap an arm around his shoulders, press a hand against his chest, moan softly while he mouths at your sensitive skin. Your hips move, you can’t help it, and then he’s hard against you, and you all but beg him to push inside.

“We’re good, I’m good,” you breathe, because you didn’t think to grab a condom and you don’t want to separate now, not when the moment is so thick and heavy and sultry, when you are well and truly wrapped up in each other. “I’m haven’t had sex with anyone else; have you?”

“No, it's just you. It’s just you.” He weaves a hand into your hair, pulls you closer for deep, slow kisses, and presses into you; his free hand resets on your hip, splays across it, broad and warm, and you rock together, kissing and panting, your hands moving over skin, clinging desperately to each other in a way that is so different but just as passionate as before.

“Aaron.” He pulls back, looks at you, squeezes your thigh, and says your name; he repeats it while you come, and you repeat his as he kisses your throat, hugs you close, and eventually spills inside you.

“You’re so incredible,” he says with a soft kiss, and you pull him closer, hug him tightly with your whole body, kiss his hair.

“You’re perfect. Addicting,” you say with a soft laugh, and he smiles, catches your mouth in a kiss.

You don’t want to separate any more than you did before, but you have to use the bathroom, and you could both use some water, so you get cleaned up together and then you stay in the bathroom while he heads for the kitchen. You throw on your robe, meet him out there, drink the better part of his glass of water; a knock on the door startles you both, and he walks over to where his clothes lay on the floor, pulls on his boxers.

“Who could that be this late?” he asks, and you shrug; you certainly weren’t expecting anyone at this hour, and definitely not with Aaron here. You walk toward the door, look out the peephole, take a deep breath and turn back to face him.

“It’s Spencer.”

“I’ll go in the bedroom,” he says, and you frown, but nod, give him one more kiss before he goes. You unlock the door and swing it open slightly, take in Spencer’s disheveled appearance, his teary eyes.

“Hey, what’s going on? It’s late.” He sighs, runs a hand through his hair.

“Chelsea broke up with me. We were supposed to go to a gallery opening for her friend tonight, and I missed it because we got back so late. She was upset, and we both said things, and she broke it off.” He moves forward, and you take a step back, which brings you both inside the apartment. He swallows, leans in and wraps his arms around you. “I didn’t know where else to go.” Taglist 🤍: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @itsmytimetoodream @unicornprancing

[sassyhobbits]

16. "I can't believe you're making snow angels at a time like this!"

and here we have the ONS christmas special!! my last xmas fic this season and i hope you all enjoy! have a great holidays everyone!! <3

~~~

Aelin Galathynius loved Yulemas.

She loved the smells, the sights, the foods. She relished in spending time with her closest family and friends, giving them gifts she knew would make their faces light up. She loved laying by the fire and reminiscing.

This was Aelin's third Yulemas with Rowan. She fell more in love with her husband everyday, and always enjoyed spending the holiday with him. The only thing that she could have wished for this year was that their daughter had decided to join them.

Aelin was heavily pregnant. Their daughter was about a week late and Aelin wanted her out, out, out already. It wasn’t only that her feet were always swollen or her back ached constantly, but also that Rowan had become terribly overbearing. There wasn't a single thing Aelin tried to do that her husband didn't attempt to do for her before she could. At the beginning of her pregnancy, she enjoyed it. She liked when Rowan would grab the remote or get out of bed to fetch her slippers if she asked. But by now, it was beginning to lose its charm.

It was Yulemas eve. The palace was filled with their friends and family. They had even invited some of Rowan’s cousins to Orynth. Arlene and Isolde were excited to enjoy their first northern Yulemas. 

They had all spent a few hours lounging in the parlor, indulging in wine and other spiced holiday drinks. Aelin sipped on a hot chocolate, cuddled into Rowan’s side, his hand a steady weight on her belly. It had all been wonderful, but after a while Aelin began to feel a bit warm with the fire and the bodies stuffing the cozy parlor

"Hey, Ro?" she whispered to her husband.

"What is it, Fireheart?"

"Will you take a walk with me?"

He smiled and nodded. "I'd love to."

He helped her off the couch, grabbing her boots and her coat and helping her slip them on. No one noticed when they ducked out of the parlor, walking down the halls towards the entrance to the gardens. 

They had become a wintry wonderland in the recent days, covered in a fresh blanket of soft snow. The night was silent, the sky clear and beautiful. Aelin held Rowan’s arm tightly as they meandered slowly over the snowy path. 

Suddenly, Aelin hissed in discomfort, placing a hand over her huge stomach as their baby girl fussed.

“Is everything alright?” Rowan asked, brows knitted in concern.

“Fine,” Aelin assured him, not wanting him to go full mother hen mode. “She’s just making herself comfortable, apparently.” 

Her husband sighed heavily. “It seems she likes it in there.”

“Well, it’s cold as hell out here so I don’t blame her.”

Rowan released a bark of laughter. “I was hoping she’d be with us by now.”

“Me too.” Aelin pouted down at her belly. “I had some adorable little Yulemas outfits for her.”

“I know you did, love.”

They continued their trek through the gardens, admiring the lights that had been strung up and other holiday decorations. Aelin always enjoyed decorating the palace. It was one of her favorite parts of the season. 

The princess was just about to suggest they go back inside when she felt something strange. A sensation she had never endured before; a little pop followed by something decidedly wet between her legs. Aelin didn't have to be a rocket scientist to realize what, exactly, that feeling was.

"Rowan?" she rasped, tightening her grip on her husband's arm.

"Hm?"

"My water just broke."

"Your water just what-?!"

Rowan’s head whipped towards her, eyes wide in shock. In his bewilderment, her normally graceful husband wasn't watching where he was going, stepping on a slick piece of eyes. His feet flew out from under him, tumbling back into a fresh bank of snow.

Despite herself, Aelin released a laugh. Rowan leaned his head upwards, flakes scattered in his slicer hair, arms spread on either side of him like a star.

“I can’t believe you’re making snow angels at a time like this!” the princess cried playfully. “We’re having a baby!”

Rowan blinked once, a slow smile spreading on his lips. “We’re having a baby,” he repeated in a whisper. “We’re having our baby!”

Aelin could only grin.

…

It didn’t take long to head back inside and gather the things they needed to make the trip to the hospital. Aelin had thought Rowan was being ridiculous earlier, but it was nothing compared to his actions now. He was everywhere at once, not allowing her to pick up anything or even open a door for herself. Yet, Aelin was too nervous to even really scold him about it. 

She and Rowan were already getting into a car in the garage by the time they let their other friends and family know what was happening. Before she knew it, they were on the way to the hospital.

Aelin knew that she likely still had a fair share of time before things would get serious, but her mother had faced many complications when giving birth to her. Aelin’s entire family had agreed to play it safe. 

There was a private, secure suite waiting for Aelin by the time they pulled up to the hospital. She was only just starting to feel the first of her contractions when she slipped into the shapeless hospital gown. 

Aelin spent a few hours speaking with nurses and doctors, getting poked and prodded and questioned. She spoke with her friends and family over the phone, convinced Rowan to read to her even though her husband seemed much more nervous than she did. 

As the night wore on, Aelin’s contractions grew stronger and more frequent. A little after one in the morning, the doctor came in and informed her that it was time to start pushing. It was then that Aelin felt those first twinges of fear. 

“Rowan?” Aelin squeaked, looking to her husband who was seated beside her.

He reached out, brushing a strand of her hair from her sweaty forehead. “What is it, Fireheart?”

“I’m scared.”

His lips tightened a fraction of an inch, grabbing her hand and giving it a firm squeeze. She could see in his eyes that he was frightened too, but he would be strong. Strong for both of them, and the little girl they were waiting to meet. He leaned close and kissed her flushed forehead. 

“I’ll be here every step of the way, Aelin. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

…

The birthing process wasn’t easy, though no one was expecting it to be. Aelin felt as though she was being torn in two, her throat raw from screaming in pain. Even through the haze of the agony, she could tell that Rowan was beyond stressed and seeing her like this was likely shaving years off his life. It was a good thing his hair was already silver, because this experience probably would have turned his hair gray anyway. 

Still, he was nothing but supportive: whispering words of encouragement, letting her grip his hand as tightly as she needed, dabbing her sweaty forehead with a cool cloth. 

It was the wee hours of Yulemas morning, the sky turning a buttery yellow as the sun rose above the jagged peaks of the Staghorns. Aelin was beyond exhausted. She had been pushing and screaming for hours. All she wanted to do was sleep.

A ragged cry tore from her throat before slumping back on to her pile of pillows, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

“I’m so tired,” she sobbed, voice hoarse and crackling. “Ro, I’m so tired.”

“I know you are, love. You’re doing so good. You’re almost there.”

“I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Yes you can, Aelin.” Rowan squeezed her hand tightly. “You’re the strongest person I know. Just a little bit longer. I know you can do it.”

“He’s right, princess,” the doctor said from his position between her legs. “Your daughter’s nearly here. Just one more big push. Can you do that for me?”

Aelin clenched her jaw and nodded. She had survived much worse than this. She could do anything. The princess sucked down one last deep, bracing breath, preparing herself before giving a mighty push.

Aelin wailed as she put everything she had in her into this last push, sure she must have been breaking the bones in Rowan’s hand with how hard she was gripping it. 

And, where one cry ended, another began.

A shrill shriek that did not come from Aelin filled the air just as her own voice failed her. Her strength left her body, collapsing against the pillows just as she saw the doctor hand a screaming, bloody, wiggling thing to the nurse.

Her daughter. That was her daughter. 

Aelin forced herself to sit up straighter as the nurses carried a bundle of pink blankets towards her before carefully placing it into her arms.

The tears wouldn’t stop flowing as Aelin held her daughter in her arms for the first time. Her face was red, and her little face was pinched up as she cried, but she was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. 

“Hi,” Aelin rasped, giving another tiny sob. “Hello. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Rowan was a warm presence at her side, looking down at his daughter in wonder. “She’s beautiful. She’s perfect.”

“I’m so in love already it doesn’t feel possible.”

The doctor smiled at the little family before them. “Have you picked out a name for the little princess yet?”

Aelin nodded, tracing the shape of her daughter’s nose. “Eliora. Her name is Eliora.”

The doctors and nurses took a few steps back, giving them a bit of privacy as they grew acquainted with one another. 

“Happy Yulemas, Eliora,” Rowan whispered to the newborn. 

“It is Yulemas, isn’t it?” Aelin asked. She had lost track of time during the birthing process. “It looks like we’re gonna have to wait to do presents.”

“No offence, Fireheart, but I don’t think you can out do yourself now.” He ran his fingers over Eliora’s silvery-blonde hair. “This is the best Yulemas gift I’ve ever could have asked for. Thank you. I love you. I love you both so much.”

Aelin looked up, beaming and kissing Rowan quickly, scooting over so he could sit beside her on the hospital bed. He perched himself on the corner, tucking Aelin under his arm and holding both her and their daughter close.

Now Aelin Galathynius had another reason to love Yulemas.

[kpophours]

Way to You

➵ Stray Kids: Bang Chan x fem. reader / one shot, college AU, friends to lovers AU / fluff

➵ warnings: slight cursing, mentions of alcohol/drinking, a teeny tiny bit sexual suggestiveness (nothing explicit)

➵ word count: 5.7k

You are in trouble.

You are in really big trouble.

Staring at the sleeping person beside you, you think about what to do next.

Maybe you could move to a different country, take on the maiden name of your mother and become a dog sitter. You like dogs! Love them, even. Cats too, you’re not picky.

Or maybe you could apply to be one of those people being shot into space to colonize Mars. It’s probably chill up there - not many people, and even better: no Chan. Probably no wifi too, though. But well, you like reading so you could always pass time by bringing enough books, right?

Or maybe, as an easier and far less dramatic solution: you could just pretend to not remember anything from last night - honestly, from the way your head is pounding right now, it doesn’t even seem that far fetched. 

For now you decide to just slide out of bed before the man beside you wakes from his deep slumber, and to flee from his house, hoping no one is going to see you. No witnesses, no crime, right?

At least you’re still wearing a shirt and most of your underwear, so … it could be worse. 

Probably.

Right?!

You take in a deep breath and carefully lift the blanket, slowly wiggling towards the edge of the bed. Before you can successfully escape though, Chan beside you groans, and wraps one arm around your waist to pull you close to his own warm body again. You almost squeal, but manage to press your lips together to stifle the noise.

Chan’s breathing is soft and steady - so for now, he’s still asleep, but you need to get away from him as quickly as possible. So you try to escape for a second time, carefully prying his arm from your body and placing it back on the mattress. This time, you successfully slide out of bed, silently landing on your feet and almost losing your balance - you are in desperate need of some water, it seems. Dehydration is no joke, kids. Quietly, you slip into your jeans and grab your bra dangling from a bedpost. You also look for your purse but after being unable to locate it, you finally tiptoe out of the room. As soon as you’ve managed to close the door behind you, you exhale, relief spreading through your whole body. You’re fine, you’re good, you’re almost out of here! You pretty much run towards the bathroom, and suppress a groan when you see your tired hangover face staring back at you in the mirror. After drinking some water straight from the tap, you wash off the pitiful rest of your makeup, put your hair up into a ponytail and deem yourself ready to leave the solidarity of the bathroom again - and to face whoever’s already awake.

The frat house is almost eerily quiet at this time of day, so you try not to make a sound while sneaking downstairs, cringing whenever one of the steps creaks under your weight. You sigh in relief when you’ve finally made it downstairs, and begin to smile when you spot your purse dangling from the back of a chair. To your delight, the keys to your flat, your wallet and phone are all still in there. Maybe the world isn’t as bad of a place as you’re sometimes making it out to be. “Morning.” You squeal and turn around, hand clutching your chest. Hyunjin chuckles when he sees your shocked expression, and silently toasts you with the mug he is holding in one hand. “Well don’t you look lovely so early in the morning.”, he teases, and you stick out your tongue at him. “I’m very sorry to inform you that not everyone has been blessed with a perfect morning face, oh dear Adonis.”, you just answer, and he grins. “Want some coffee”?, he asks, already reaching for a second mug, but halts in his movement when he sees your hesitant expression. Your eyes slide towards the stairwell and back at the young man in front of you again. “I- I should go.”, you say, and he just nods, hand falling away from the coffee pot. “Sure. Have a nice day, then.” For some reason, he seems disappointed, but you try not to give it too much thought. So you just smile at him, before ducking out into the hallway to grab your shoes and jacket, quickly leaving the frat house behind. It’s a cold morning for early autumn, mist hanging between the trees and making it difficult to see, and you bury both hands in your pockets while walking towards the direction of your flat. It’s weirdly quiet, and you’re almost regretting your decision to leave the house so abruptly, even though it was probably the more… sensible thing to do. Chan and you have a long, complicated history - missed opportunities, bad timing, broken hearts. For some reason, it just never seems to work between you guys. There’s always either another person standing between you, or some miscommunication happens, or he is suddenly leaving to spend a term abroad in Australia or or or … the list goes on and on. You’ve never managed to find your way to each other.

Yesterday was his welcome back party, and as part of the “inner circle”, you’d of course been invited to join the surprise gathering as well. You truly love and adore all the boys living at the frat house, even though you want to smack Minho pretty much 24/7, really dislike Hyunjin’s perfect face and superior smirk whenever he plays beer pong against you, and are almost a bit annoyed at Jeongin’s cuteness (you would probably let him get away with literal murder). You also can’t believe the amount of chicken Seungmin manages to eat in a day, and have long lost count of how many times you’ve had to drag Changbin out of the cave he calls his room so he’d finally see some sunlight again and get that vitamin D. No wonder he never grew past the 1.70m mark. Felix is the only one you’d never say anything against, the man being too sweet (and cute) for his own good. He is just sunshine personified. You’d legit burn down cities to protect him. You had met the seven young men during your freshman year, all thanks to your then new roommate and your now best friend Jisung. The others had pretty much accepted you with open arms, and almost just as quickly, you had fallen head over heels for Chan. But who can blame you? Not only is he incredibly handsome, but also funny, witty, smart and always down to clown. Your perfect man in the shape of a talented, beautiful goofball. And he seems to be more than interested in you as well, often shamelessly flirting with you, touching you more than necessary and generally being a total sweetheart towards you.

And yet - … and yet … for some reason, it just never seems to work between you two. Fate is against you, apparently. 

Exhausted, you unlock the front door to the flat you share with Jisung, hoping that he is either still at his girlfriend’s place, or deeply asleep. You need a long hot shower and some alone time afterwards. 

And coffee, lots of it. Or tea. One or the other, you’re honestly not picky.

Sadly, fate is against you yet again: Jisung sits at the kitchen table, dark eyes almost entirely hidden by too long hair falling into his handsome face. He should really get a haircut. As soon as he lays eyes on you, he gives you a cheeky smile. “Good moooorning.”, he says, tone of voice way too cheerful so early in the day. You sigh internally, but give him a small smile in return and murmur a greeting back. “You look awful.”, your roommate then states, and you roll your eyes at him. “I guess my exterior reflects my inner self, then.”, you grumble, and take the mug of coffee he is sliding your way with a curt nod of your head. “Rough night?”, he asks, lip twitching. You give him a critical look, gnawing on your lower lip. Jisung had left the party around 1am, his girlfriend getting tired and finally wanting to go home. 

So how much does he know?

Knowing the boys … they might have instantly texted him, telling him about you staying the night.

With Chan.

In Chan’s room.

After not having seen him for six months.

After having pretty much confessed to him only seconds before he had to take a cab to get to the airport to leave for his term spent abroad. 

What can you say, timing has never been one of your strong suits. 

Jisung is still staring at you, obviously waiting for your answer. You snap out of your thoughts and take a sip of coffee. You grimace when the bitter taste hits your tongue; Jisung always likes his coffee a lot stronger than you. Pretty much the only strong thing about him though. “It was… long.”, you finally say, and place the mug back on the kitchen table, “And I really need a shower now.” With that, you quickly leave the kitchen again, ignoring your roommate’s low chuckle.

Oh that bastard so knows.

Meaning you have to add a few names to your death note.

Monday is the worst day of the week.

Monday should just cease to exist. Why can’t the week just begin with a nice, chill Tuesday?

You like Tuesdays. Tuesdays are cool.

Mondays on the other hand… They just don’t sit well with you. 

“JISUNG, I SWEAR TO GOD, YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS BEFORE I’M GOING TO BREAK DOWN THIS DAMN DOOR!”, you yell, and continue to hammer your fist against the locked bathroom door.

He’s been in there for almost an hour now, probably using up all the hot water. You can’t believe he’s doing this to you. There’s only about twenty minutes left before you have to leave for your first class, and you definitely need a hot shower and some concealer. Maybe a miracle. Where’s your make-over-sequence when you need it?! Why are you not a young heroine in a quirky rom-com, then you’d probably look perfectly styled all the time. But no, you’ll probably have to go to class with greasy third-day-hair, sweatpants and the biggest eye bags the world has ever seen. Fifty shades of dark circles under your eyes - the perfect movie title should your life ever get turned into one. Probably a solid 10% on Rotten Tomatoes, maybe 15% if the viewers feel generous. Your life just ain’t that interesting so far.

“JI-FUCKING-SUNG!” You kick the door - or well, you want to. Because in that second, your roommate finally decides to open it, so you accidentally kick his shin instead of the wooden door. He yelps, and doubles over in pain. “Hey, I thought you were a pacifist. Violence is never the answer and all that stuff!”, he complains, voice laced with pain, and you feel like, 20% sorry. Or maybe only 15%. “It’s your own fault if you need half an eternity to get ready.”, you scoff, and squeeze past him to get inside the bathroom and to finally take your long awaited shower. “Aren’t you a joy to have around in the morning.”, Jisung just replies, and you flip him off before closing the door into his puffy morning face.

You’re almost late to class, but not because you took too long in the bathroom, oh no. This is Jisung’s fault again - being the annoying parasite that he simply is, he used up the last of your favorite tea, meaning you had to search through the kitchen cabinets to find your less tasty emergency back-up tea. Finding it had taken way too long, because about two weeks ago, Jisung had randomly decided to move everything around inside the cabinets, and now you can’t find shit anymore. He should really get a hobby or two.

You’re out of breath by the time you reach the lecture hall, and almost frozen to death thanks to the temperature dropping way too low last night. Your hair is still wet because you didn’t have time to blow dry it this morning, so you know you’ll look like a crazy witch in approximately half an hour. Having unruly hair is fun. “Hey, Y/N!”, someone yells as soon as you walk through the door, and you jump, almost spilling the back-up tea all over yourself. Thankfully, you manage to maneuver the small thermos flask away from your body, so the hot liquid spills onto the floor instead of your clothes. You shoot a silent apology to the cleaning staff. Your eyes zone in on the person responsible for your near-death-experience, and you groan when Minho flashes you a cheeky smile. It’s way too early to deal with demons, you decide, and are about to turn around and search for a more welcoming or even unfamiliar face in the crowd of students, when Hyunjin appears at your side, mirroring Minho’s gleeful expression. 

“Hell’s empty and all the devils are here.”, you mutter under your breath, and Hyunjin laughs, before shoving you towards the empty seat beside Minho. “Stop quoting Shakespeare, you drama queen.”, he just says, and takes the seat on your other side. “I still don’t understand why you had to take the same class as me this term. There are endless other classes you could have chosen. Endless, I’m telling you!”, you mumble, expression grumpy. Minho chuckles. “And rid you of our extremely pleasant company and highly amusing commentary? Never.” You just scoff and open your backpack, rummaging through it until you find your small notebook and pen. Call you old fashioned but you actually like to take notes by hand, eyeing Minho’s sleek MacBook Pro with slight distaste (and maybe a hint of envy). Hyunjin’s doing… better, you guess, because he too is taking notes by hand, but he just has a random assortment of loose paper instead of a bound notebook. You already know he’ll have lost half his notes by the end of the day and will probably ask to borrow yours. Oh that sweet chaos boy. 

“How was the rest of your weekend?”, Minho asks, “You were gone by the time we all got up on Saturday, people were really sad and disappointed by your sudden disappearance, you know.” His tone of voice is innocent, too innocent. You know exactly who “people” includes. Oh, you know it way too well. “I had things to do.”, you answer curtly, eyes stubbornly trained at the front of the room where the teacher’s just trying to set up his laptop. You hope he’ll hurry, because you really don't want to continue talking to Hyunjin and Minho. But apparently, the teacher is a hopeless case, looking at the different cables with a big question mark on his face. What is it with boomers and technology, honestly. “Come on, my dude. Please hurry.”, you whisper, watching the man intensely, both eyebrows drawn together. You try to send him mental strength, because he actually looks like he’s about to cry. You’d go and help him if you weren’t sitting at the very back of the lecture hall. Hyunjin pokes your cheek, and you jump. “Answer us, coward.”, he says, sounding way too pleased. “My weekend was fine. The hangover was uncool, but I spent the rest of the day destroying Jisung at Mario Kart and eating greasy food, so it could have been worse. Sunday was uneventful, I just caught up with some of my reading materials for class this week.”, you recap your last two days in a flat voice, “How about you guys?” “Those were the oh-so-important things you “had to do”? Groundbreaking, truly.” You ignore Minho’s sarcasm and begin to play with the cap of your pen. “Well we had to clean the house after Chan’s welcome home party, of course. And then he showed us some of the pictures he took in Australia - there was this one really cute one where he was cuddling a koala, I’m sure you’d love it.”, Hyunjin tells you, and you’re this close to kicking him. How dare he put the mental image of Chan cuddling a koala in your head. You hate how much you love it. Just because you really like koalas of course, this has nothing to do with Chan himself. If you repeat it over and over again, you might actually believe it one day. Probably not. Ugh, Hyunjin and Minho are truly the worst possible friends you could ask for. Who needs enemies when you have friends like these. “Cool.”, you just murmur, and thank the Heavens above when you see that some student has finally taken mercy on your teacher and is helping him set up. Soon after, the lecture begins, and as annoying as Hyunjin and Minho may be, they usually do take their studies seriously, so they finally shut up and leave you be. You sigh in relief, and begin taking notes as well.

You don’t even know why you agreed to come. 

You don’t want to be here.

At the frat house.

Again.

You were just here last week, and everyone knows how that ended.

You had managed to avoid seeing Chan all week - not that it was difficult, seeing as you don’t share a single class with him. But he hasn’t texted you either, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a teeny tiny bit disappointed.

You grind your teeth, cursing Jisung and his stupidly cute hamster cheekies and puppy eyes. You hate to admit it, but you’re prepared to give him just about anything whenever he looks at you with his deep brown eyes while puffing out his cheeks. Honestly, what did the Universe think all those years ago, bringing him into your life?! Why couldn’t someone else have answered your ad about searching for a new roommate? Why did it have to be Jisung?

This whole mess is really just Jisung’s fault.

If it weren’t for him, you’d probably never have met the perfection that is Christopher Bang Chan. 

“Are you trying to set the house on fire by staring at it? Because I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m pretty sure it ain’t gonna work.”, your best friend says, voice laced with barely hidden glee. 

He knows how much you hate being here. You had only agreed to come after Jisung had promised Chan wouldn’t be here this evening. Pinky-promised, even! But you already see his car parked outside the frat house, and that can only mean one thing - Jisung has betrayed you. That bastard. This is how Jesus must have felt when he found out about Judas’s betrayal. Or Caesar, when he was stabbed by those closest to him, including his own son Brutus. You really can’t trust men. Your heart aches for your other best friend, but of course she just had to graduate top of her class and therefore go attend the most prestigious university in the country. Meaning she’s about a thousand miles away from you right now. In the end, you really can’t trust anyone, huh. But especially not men. And especially not Jisung, it seems.

“You’re less funny than you think.”, you just answer flatly, and your roommate scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. We both know the Universe has blessed me with both devilishly handsome looks and an amazing and unique humor.”, he replies, and now you really want to smack him. But being a self-proclaimed pacifist, you just take in a deep breath and decide to only think about all the ways you would murder him if you were a cold-blooded killer and not a usually soft tempered college student. “Come on, don’t be a party pooper and let’s finally go inside, I’m freezing.” And with that, your best friend simply drags you towards the front door.

Judas and Brutus have nothing on Jisung, you decide. Because the second you step inside the living room of the frat house, you’re greeted by the charms (the Chan arms). It’s way too cold to be wearing a sleeveless shirt, but Chan didn’t get the memo apparently. Or maybe it’s because he’s just so hot, he doesn’t get cold, like ever.

You grimace at your own lame joke, even though you thankfully didn’t say it out loud. That would have been embarrassing. 

There are a few other people here already, maybe about 15 in total, and everyone greets you and Jisung warmly. You smile and return hugs, and before you know it, Changbin has handed you some wine in a red plastic cup. How very fancy, you truly feel special tonight.

He then pushes you towards the four old, mismatched sofas taking up most of the living room space, and orders you to sit down. You’re so surprised by his commanding tone, you actually follow his request without much protest. For a few minutes, you just stay quiet and observe the small crowd of people, taking a sip of wine from time to time. It’s dry, too dry for your liking, and you’d rather have a cup of tea right now. Or well, maybe a shot of vodka - because suddenly, Chan is making his way towards you. Your eyes dart around the room, and you desperately try not to look at him. He looks so good. Too good. No one needs that much beauty, this is truly just excessive. His black hair looks so shiny, you just want to run your fingers through it. And his deep dark eyes, perfect to drown in. You just want to touch his arms and see if his muscles are as hard as they look. He even has a perfectly cute smile, that bastard. It’s just too much, he’s just too much.

Before you can get up and flee from the scene, Chan falls onto the ground beside you, and gives you his signature cheery smile. His lips look incredibly kissable in the dimly lit room. Ugh.

You quickly look away.

“Hi.”, he says, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. He has too much power over you, and he doesn’t even know it. “Hi yourself.”, you answer quietly. “How you’ve been? We haven’t seen each other all week.”, he asks, leaning closer, his right arm brushing against your left one in the process. He smells really good and you can’t help but deeply inhale. “Yeah, I’ve been quite busy.”, you explain, still avoiding to look at him, but out of the corner of your eye, you see how he raises both eyebrows. “Busy? It’s only the second week of class. I didn’t know you’ve become such a geek while I was gone.”, he says, but his soft smile indicates he’s just joking. You shrug, and take another sip of the too dry wine. You grimace again.

It’s disgusting, really, and you don’t even know why you’re still drinking it. 

Chan takes the cup out of your hand, and eyes it suspiciously before taking a sip as well. His face says it all, the wine truly is disgusting. “What is this!? A liquid from Hell?!”, he asks and shudders, and you break into a smile. “Considering you live with at least two demons, it’s not that far fetched.”, you answer, and he tilts his head to one side. “What did Hyunjin and Minho do now?”, he sighs, and you shrug. “They were themselves.” Chan chuckles, mumbles “That actually says it all.” under his breath and leans back against the sofa. He’s still looking at you, and you feel a blush creep on your cheeks. Really uncool of your body to just betray you like that. Mind over matter, you think, and dare the blush to just go away and leave you be. It doesn’t work though. Years of evolution and you’re still unable to command your body the way you want to. How incredibly rude. Darwin would be so disappointed.

“I missed you, Y/N.”, Chan suddenly says, his voice barely above a whisper. You finally turn towards him, and lock eyes with him. His expression is soft and his eyes earnest. You give him the smallest of smiles. “I… well, I missed you too.”, you finally confess, heart fluttering when he breaks into a bright smile. He lifts his hand to brush some of your hair behind your ear, all while still intensely looking at you. Your heart rate immediately flatlines, and you think you might have a very spontaneous case of strong asthma, because your lungs are apparently giving up on you as well. You basically drown in Chan’s eyes, their warm brown so familiar.

“MY DEAREST DUDES AND DUDETTES!”, Seungmin suddenly yells - a beautiful alliteration, you think -, making both you and Chan jump. You hurriedly bring some space between your bodies, almost having forgotten about not being alone in the room. You can feel Hyunjin, Minho and Jisung looking at you, all three sporting matching, shit-eating grins. 

Maybe being a pacifist is not the right way to go through life after all, because right now, you really just want to punch them. Only lovingly, of course, but with enough strength nevertheless.

“Thank you for joining us on this wonderful Friday evening, and welcome to this month’s game and drinking night! I see most of you have already found your seats, so everyone who’s still standing, please go and sit on your butt, thank you very much.” Seungmin grins and waits for everyone to follow his words. He should really consider quitting law school to become a tv host instead of a lawyer. When everyone’s finally seated, he grabs an empty bowl from the shelf behind him and holds it up into the air, its blue glass catching the light. “Everyone, please write down your names on the slips of paper provided for you, and then we shall begin playing our first game of the night.”

It takes almost ten minutes for everyone to write down their names, mostly because there aren’t enough pens for everyone, so people keep fighting over them. After everyone’s finally done, Seungmin collects the slips of paper again, and puts them in his bowl, shuffling through them. “First game of the night is Seven minutes in Heaven.”, he says, his smile cheeky. You groan internally. He can’t be serious. But apparently, he is - because he fumbles for two paper slips, about to declare the first names. “Fingers crossed for it to be Hyunjin and Minho, just because I wanna see their faces.”, you mumble, and Chan beside you chuckles. “Well now I really want to see that, too.”, he replies in a low voice, leaning closer so you can hear him. You gulp nervously, and are about to answer, when Seungmin clears his throat. “Y/N, Chan? Did you not hear me?”, he asks innocently, and you turn towards him, both your expressions questioning. For someone so cute looking, Seungmin can be really evil sometimes, his smile almost devilish right now. “You’re the first ones up. Now go, have fun. Your seven minutes will begin as soon as you close the door behind you.” You’re actually speechless for once, just blinking at the man in front of you. This can’t be happening. He can’t be serious. There is no way this is a coincidence. You know Seungmin and the other boys too well for that. God, you really should have written all their names into your death note when you had the chance. You’re about to demand for Seungmin to show you the slips of paper in his hand, when - “Uh, well… Let’s go, then.”, Chan finally says, and takes your hand in his to help you up from the floor and drag you towards the little broom cabinet under the stairs.

How very Harry Potter-like.

The last thing you see before Seungmin closes the door in your face, is his stupid smirk. 

Oh how much you hate him and the others right now. 

It’s dark inside the cabinet, only some light falling through the slits around the door, but it’s too dim to see anything. Dust tickles your nose, and you have to suppress a sneeze. Chan standing opposite you clears his throat. “So.”, he says, and you shift from one foot to the other. The cabinet is small enough for your bodies to be almost touching. You can feel the heat radiating off him and want nothing more than to cuddle to his chest. “So.”, you repeat. “Here we are.”, Chan says. You just chuckle and nervously rub the palms of your hands together, air thick with tension. Before you can say anything else, Chan takes a step closer to you, hot breath fanning over your face. He smells like mint mixed with alcohol. It’s a nice combination, you think. But then again, you’d probably like anything on him. He’s Chan, after all. 

Your Chan.

You shiver involuntarily, his close proximity making you almost a bit dizzy. “Are you cold?”, he murmurs, voice low and silky. Goosebumps rise all over your body and you shake your head - until you remember he obviously can’t see it in the darkness. “Not really.”, you whisper back, breath hitching when he suddenly wraps both arms around your waist to pull you close to his chest. You can feel his rapid heartbeat under the palm of your hand, mirroring your own. “Why did you leave last week?”, he asks, sounding more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard before. You gulp and bite down on your lower lip. Guilt washes over you. “Technically you left first - for Australia, remember?”, you shoot back, a really weak and sad attempt if you’re being honest. “You know I never would have left if I didn’t have to.”, he says, and you sigh. You know that, of course you do. Chan is a nice, good guy, a really nice, good guy. It had been stupid of you to confess your love for him right before he had to go. In the end, your broken heart had been no one’s fault except your own. You take in a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what else to do - I wasn’t sure how you’d react, waking up next to me after all those months of not talking.”, you confess, voice soft and tiny, and duck your head.

Chan’s hand brushes against your cheek, and he lifts your chin with two fingers. “I would have been happy. I would have kissed you good morning before making you some tea. And then I would have stayed in bed all day, cuddling you and showing you all the cool pictures I took in Australia.”, he murmurs, thumb tracing gentle patterns on your cheek. You exhale, sounding wobbly. “That would have been nice.”, you answer, and can almost feel his bright and relieved smile. “Well, tomorrow is Saturday again. So maybe we can just have a do-over.”, he asks, lips awfully close to your own now. “I think I’d like that - I’d really like that.”, you mumble against his lips, and then - finally - he kisses you. Fireworks burst behind your closed eyelids, and you quickly wrap your arms around Chan’s neck to pull him even closer. Now that you’ve started, it seems you can’t get enough of each other - what starts out as a slow, romantic kiss quickly becomes a clashing of tongues and teeth, and when he bites down on your lower lip, you can’t help but moan into his mouth, a hot, tingling feeling shooting through your entire body. All you can think right now is that you never want this moment to end - you’ve been waiting for this for so long. You’ve been waiting for him to finally find his way to you. And you yourself are just so, so tired of running away from him. Never before has anything ever felt so right. 

You’re interrupted by a sudden knock on the door, and immediately jump apart, breaking the kiss. You’re both breathless, chests heaving, and even though you can’t see right now, you know that your hair is a total mess, your lips are swollen and your cheeks flushed. “Your seven minutes are over, so you better be decent!”, Minho says from outside, and before either you or Chan can reply, he opens the door. Light floods the tiny cabinet, and you blink against it, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The first thing you see when your eyes have finally gotten used to the brightness again, is Minho’s shit-eating grin. He stands in the hallway with both his arms crossed and head tilted to one side. “Well, well, well. Heaven sure seems to be as magical as they say, huh?”, he just says, and you really want to smack the grin off his stupidly handsome face.

But Chan just laughs, and grabs your hand, lifting it to his lips to press a soft kiss against your knuckles. You’re ready to just faint right there and then, knees almost buckling from the sweet gesture. Who cares about Minho’s stupid grin when Chan is being perfect again. “Truly magical, yes.”, Chan just answers good-humoredly, and tugs you out of the broom closet, “Well, if you’d excuse us now.” And with that, he simply drags you up the stairs and towards his room. “Hey, where you’re going?!”, Minho and Hyunjin yell in unison, and you look over your shoulder to give them a cheeky grin. “Chan has some pictures he wants to show me - someone told me there’s a really cute one where he cuddles a koala. I finally want to see that now.”, you answer innocently, and wink at them. Chan laughs and quickly pulls you close, kissing you again. You ignore the clapping and cheering noises the others make downstairs. God, your friends are really embarrassing sometimes. But maybe you’re not as sorry anymore about not having written any of them into your death note. Because as stupid and embarrassing as they often are, you do truly adore every single one of them. “You know what, I think that particular picture would make a really cute background for your phone.”, Chan murmurs against your lips, and you raise both eyebrows. “Oh, I bet.”, you just answer, and smile at him.

… Spoiler alert: it’s actually the perfect background for your phone.

[masterlist] | [requests] 

[meetmymouth]

An angst blurb where y/n caught Harry in a terrible lie and how he tries to fix everything

thank you for the request mwah hope you like this :’)

1.8k below the cut!!!!!

(there might be some typos and stuff like that but i’ll fix them later sorry)

Y/N took a deep breath as she closed the front door behind her. It was Thursday which meant happy hour at the pub near their flat so she was excited for cider after cider and well, to see her friends. Despite feeling drained from the week’s workload and her boss cornering her about the next week’s article, a tired smile appeared on her lips at the thought of letting loose with the people she loved the most.

She took her Adidas trainers off and placed them next to Harry’s Nikes while tying her hair into a messy bun. After doing her ‘after-work’ routine in the bathroom (washing her hands, taking her rings and earrings off...), she made her way towards the stairs that led up to the bedrooms, passing the quiet living room in which the telly showed Nigella on mute.

Since Harry was having time-off from work, she knew he was either in the bathroom or doing something in their bedroom upstairs. Since he wasn’t anywhere to be found downstairs, she made her way up to their bedroom, noting to fix the wonky photo frames on the walls that welcomed her as she took each step. When she came to the last step, she called his name.

“Harry?”

When no one replied, she opened the slightly ajar door to find a tall body sleeping between the covers. As she made her way towards him, she smiled at his lack of clothes and damp hair which caused a dark patch on his pillow.

Taking a look at the digital clock on the bedside table, she patted the area where Harry was laying to make sure she wouldn’t sit on his legs.

“Baby,” she whispered while she gently petted his cheek. She couldn’t help but feel tingly when her palm made contact with his growing scruff.

Harry nuzzled his cheek into Y/N’s palm and slowly opened his eyes which showed he couldn’t have been asleep for more than half an hour.

She smiled at the sleepy boy and gave a kiss to her nose.

“You OK babe?”

“Yeah, just passing time while you’re being a boss ass babe at work” he murmured and lifted himself on the bed, getting closer to her. “Missed youuuu,”

“Missed you more” it was true. Ever since Harry started spending most of his time at her flat since he was taking some time off from recording and meetings, they both became somewhat clingy and needy for each other which- she didn’t even care to be honest.

They were always together. They woke up to each other. They cooked together. They had sex at least twice a day. They touched each other like they were teenagers and they went to sleep after they read their books in bed, side by side. Sometimes she offered to read him if she thought the book was something that would interest him while Harry too loved reading bits from his book because he knew she liked collecting quotes in her notes app.

While she was daydreaming about their routine, Harry got up from the bed and made his way to the wardrobe.

She looked at his pale bum and chuckled.

“Doing squats lately?” she asked, knowing how he kept complaining about his bum getting bigger because he couldn’t stop eating too much carbohydrates (she caught him stealing bread  numerous times from the bread bin before bed).

He scoffed as he struggled to put his boxers on and Y/N went to hug him from behind and she kissed his shoulders which were still warm from his nap.

“You’re so cosy. Mmm, look at these broad shoulders. You’re well fit, aren’t you,”

“Yeah, mock me arse and then compliment me shoulders. That won’t work”

She smirked at the way he leaned back on her body and how he stopped trying to get her boxers on as they stayed very low on his hips.

“Why you leaning back on me then huh?” She touched her lips to his left shoulder again and blew a raspberry as he wiggled his shoulders in hopes of breaking free.

He turned and surged forwards, capturing her lips in a needy kiss. As she opened her mouth, he immediately went for her tongue. She chuckled at the spit running down his chin and wiped it off with the palm of her hand.

“Messy”

“I like it messy”

“Yeah you’re such a boy,” she kissed the side of his mouth and they parted.

“You coming with? To the pub?” she asked and watched as he took her beige trousers and a white t-shirt from the wardrobe.

Satisfied with his nod, Y/N placed one last kiss between his shoulder blades and left the room, wanting to take a quick shower before changing into her most comfortable jeans- if there was such thing.

Remembering the forgotten toiletry bag downstairs beside where she threw her bag on the sofa, she left the bathroom without his trousers on and went down the stairs, laughing at Harry who sent her a wink from where he was seated on the bed.

It was nearly seven which left her an hour to get ready. It was fine, she thought and spared a glance at her legs while she walked, noticing the little growing hairs. When she arrived where her makeup bag was, the letters on the coffee table caught her eye.

Piled up letters and parcels weren’t anything unusual for their household though Y/N made sure to open everything in time in case they got anything urgent like bills and stuff like that. Since there was one teared open, she put the makeup bag back and took the rectangular envelope in her hands.

They weren’t a sneaky couple: neither Y/N or Harry ever went through each others’ phones or went behind each others’ backs in any way. Hence why she felt like she could take a look inside the envelope since she didn’t even read the name on it first.

She unfolded the paper which looked like it’s been read before and started reading it herself. It was obviously a legal letter of sorts but she didn’t know much about those so she didn’t care much until she went to put the paper back to where it was that she stopped abruptly. A name caught her eye and she re-opened the paper.

There it was, in bold, both Harry’s and Camille’s full names.

She didn’t know any legal terms but what she’d gathered from the letter was that Harry waiving something something house something something and lots of numbers.

At that moment, Y/N pierced everything together and her body felt like it was on fire.

Harry, her boyfriend of two years, who was also upstairs in their shared bedroom, had paid for Miss Rowe’s Los Angeles mansion.

Now, she didn’t know what her house looked like but according to the numbers on the letter, it wasn’t a simple three bedroom house.

She threw the letter on the sofa and ran upstairs. Part of her was trying to be calm because you know what, she was an adult! That being said, this was massive. Huge! Her boyfriend was paying for her ex girlfriend’s house.

She didn’t care that it was his ex girlfriend. She just hated the fact that he never ever thought of mentioning this to her. Because he knew how crazy it would sound.

“Y/N? It’s nearly seven,” Harry caught her from her shoulders before they came toe to toe.

She shrugged his hands off and took a second before deciding on how to go from there.

Harry watched her with curiosity since she looked like she was holding back an ear piercing scream which- she somehow was. Her mouth was twitching and he could tell that she was grinding her teeth.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” she asked but didn’t stop there:

“No, fuck it. When were you going to tell me how much of a sneaky bastard you were?” she watched as his mouth opened and closed in shock.

“What?”

Y/N wanted to slap herself. She wanted to stump her feet and cry and she wanted to puke.

“You’re a sneaky bastard. You paid for her house?” a sarcastic laugh left her mouth as she kept going.

“You actually paid for her house and you didn’t think of mentioning it to me? I mean, I don’t even give a fuck if you were still friends with her. Or met up with her. You know I’m fine with it. I don’t give a fuck. But paying for her house?”

“Y/N-”

“No. Don’t. This is big, Harry. This is fucked up. You went behind my-”

“It’s not like we’re poor so we won’t have any money left!” his tone matched hers now and it made Y/N angrier.

They were stood in the middle of their corridor, Y/N in nothing but her knickers and the blouse she wore to work today and Harry with only his trousers on.

She felt herself getting sweatier by the second.

“You’re a fucking joke. You think I’m angry because you spent money? I’m not your mother, I don’t care what you spend your money on, you muppet. It’s the fact that you never mentioned this to me. You realise how big this is?” She tried passing his lanky body but he grabbed her arm.

“Look, I’m sorry. I was going to mention it to you, I was waiting for the appropriate time!”

“Appropriate time?! Are you fucking with me? There’s nothing you could say to make this better, just get out of my face. I don’t want to look at you. I’m serious”

“Y/N, please. Just- let’s just sit down and talk-”

She finally went past him, right into the bedroom as she looked for something to cover her bare legs. Harry didn’t make any sound as he possibly waited for her to come out and have a ‘proper’ chat but it wasn’t going to be that easy. She didn’t even want to hear his voice. After she was successfully dressed in a pair of old joggers, she grabbed Harry’s checkered jacket from the rack, opened the door and passed Harry as he followed her like a puppy down the stairs.

His silence spoke volumes; he knew he was guilty so he opt for silently following his girlfriend around as she collected her phone and her bag.

“Where are you going? You know we never leave this house without talking it out!” He finally spoke, his voice cracking a tad.

She scoffed and put her trainers on. As she took the car keys to Harry’s Mercedes, he caught her arm again.

“Leave it, Harry”

“No, look at me,”

“Fucking leave it! Go and have a look at your other documents in case you find another statement that shows how much you paid for her car. Don’t call me”

***

this is SO long for a blurb so i might make a part 2! didn’t proofread but will do later tonight.

send me more blurbs i will write shorter ones i promise lol x

[thicctails]

Summer Of Whump Day 30[Crying/Lashing Out]

Reunited at last!

Omega leaned against a tree, her injured leg lifted off the ground slightly. Despite the pain that radiated from various points on her body, she was buzzing with excitement. Today was the day that they were going to meet up with the rest of the Bad Batch and Rex!

 They were just getting ready to leave, Crosshair going off to hunt something down so that they had extra provisions. Cal was laying down in the soft grass, rays of sunlight shining down on him as he slept. Omega felt a flicker of sadness go through her when she realized that Pillow was missing out on enjoying the planet’s nice warm environment.

 Crosshair had explained that Pillow, for some unexplainable reason, had cocooned himself in crystal. Omega hadn’t believed him at first, but the older clone had carried her back to the ship so that she could see it for herself. She’d spent the better part of half an hour just talking to the hunk of crystal, hoping that Pillow could hear her in there. She couldn’t sense him in the Force, which upset her. Crosshair said that he wouldn’t be in there for very long, but she could tell that he’d only said that to make her feel better. Truth was, nobody knew how long Pillow would be stuck in the shining purple chunk of rock.

 Omega could only hope that he was okay in there.

 “Hey.”

 Omega turned her head, surprised at who she saw.

 Chex shifted nervously, his arm resting in a sling. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed, his hair messy and his eyes still holding the remnants of sleep. He looked the way she felt, the two of them having just recently recovered from their fevers. She tilted her head slightly, not exactly sure why he had approached her.

 “I just,” He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, “I wanted to say… that I’m sorry. I was angry and hurting, but that was no excuse to act the way that I did. You’re actually really cool.”

 Omega felt his sincerity and guilt through the Force, and she gave him a half smile.

 “Thanks. You were pretty cool too, taking on that creature by yourself.” She replied. “Just try to avoid swinging that lightsaber at me, and we’ll be good.”

 Chex flushed red in embarrassment. “Yeah, that was one of my stupider moments.”

 “Yes, it was.”

 Chex whirled, gulping when he saw Crosshair standing behind him. The clone glowered at him, his golden-brown eyes narrowing dangerously. A large, furry beast was draped over his shoulder, a trickle of blood dripping down his armored chest. Omega stifled a laugh at the way the padawan visibly seemed to shrink, his shoulders hunching as he tried to make himself seem as small and nonthreatening as possible.

 “So, you’re the one that attacked my adiik.” He growled, and it was as if a thunderstorm had formed inside his chest.

 “Uhhh…” Chex squeaked, somehow becoming even smaller.

 “Crosshair, I think you’re going to give him a heart attack.” Omega giggled.

 “Good.” Crosshair rumbled, still making direct eye contact with the cowering teen.

 Omega rolled her eyes and gave Chex a little shove, causing him to snap out of his terror-induced paralysis and dash away as fast as possible.

 Omega couldn’t hold it in anymore. She burst out laughing, her throat still a bit rough from her illness. She wiped at her eyes as Crosshair continued to glare at the retreating padawan, a toothpick clenched in his teeth.

 “You should have left him to cower, it was amusing.” He grumbled, giving her a small smile.

 “Cal’s gonna be so mad! He wanted to see you do that.” Omega wheezed.

“He should have stayed awake, then.” He said simply. “Come on, let’s get going.”

 She waits until Crosshair has woken Cal up before she moves. She limped forward, accepting Crosshair’s arm when he offers it. She knows that, if she asks, he’ll carry her back to the ship, but she wants to try and do it herself. She’s tired of feeling weak.

 Together, the trio made their way back to the ship. Crosshair threw his catch into the cold storage while Cal and Omega strapped in. Omega claimed the co-pilot’s seat, and Cal didn’t have the heart to fight her for the prized seat while she was injured. Resigning himself to a seat farther back, he curled up and went back to sleep, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his chest.

 “Ready?” Crosshair asked, sliding into the pilot’s seat.

 “Ready!” Omega replied enthusiastically.

 Crosshair stared out the windshield with a determined look on his face.

 “Then let’s go home.”

    Hunter paced back and forth, stopping every thirty seconds to listen for the sound of approaching footsteps. He stared out at the open sky, wishing that his sight was as good as his hearing so that he could see if a ship was coming in. Upon seeing nothing and hearing nothing, he resumed his pacing.

 “Hunter, for the love of the Maker, please stop pacing!” Echo groaned, shooting Hunter an annoyed look. “Walking back and forth isn’t going to make them arrive any sooner.”

 Hunter huffed, crossing his arms. “They should have been here by now. What if something went wrong? What if Crosshair’s chip activated again?”

 “It’s been an hour since we got here. Give them some time.” Tech said, but Hunter didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked towards the sky.

 “Ugh, we’ve given them time.” Wrecker, who had been laying on the floor lifting boxes, sat up. “I say we go lookin’ for ‘em.”

 “That could draw unnecessary attention to ourselves. We’re staying put.” Rex replied.

 Hunter opened his mouth to argue, but stopped when a new sound reached his ears.

 Footsteps. One set was steady and calm, one was hesitant, and the other was uneven, like the person was limping. He turned his head, staring directly at the doorway.

 “Someone’s coming. A few someones.” He said in a hushed voice. Hope made his heart rate pick up, but he also knew to be cautious. There was always the possibility that whoever was coming down the hall wasn’t friendly.

 The group rallied around them, and the air was thick with tension. Hands rested on blasters as the footsteps became audible to everyone.

 They waited.

 There was silence for a moment, the approaching people pausing, hesitant to enter the room. Then, a familiar mop of blonde hair appeared from around the corner. Soft, honey-brown eyes locked onto them, and Omega’s star-bright grin lit up the space around them.

 “Omega!” The Bad Batch yelled, running over to her. She had barely stepped forward when Hunter reached her, scooping her up into a tight hug, ever careful not to touch her scarring burns.

 Omega’s face disappeared into Hunter’s neck, her own smooth skin brushing up against his stubble. The scent of damp earth and clean rainfall fills his senses, and Hunter takes a moment to absorb it, to take comfort from the fact that their ad’ika is back in his arms and that she’s alive and okay. Her limbs shake as she wraps her arms around his neck, almost choking him with how tightly she’s holding on. He doesn’t care. Omega is back, and that’s what matters.

 But she’s not the only family member that has returned to them today.

 Still holding onto Omega, he opens his eyes to see Crosshair standing in the door frame. His vod looks… tired. The skin beneath his eyes is dark, and in his cognac brown eyes Hunter sees a frightening mix of bone-deep exhaustion, deep-seeded guilt, and wavering fear, like he doesn’t know if Hunter is going to hug him or strike him.

 “C’mere, Cross’ika.” The nickname is one that he hasn’t used since their early days of life, but it still rolls off his tongue like smooth honey.

 Crosshair stiffens at the name, and Hunter can practically see the shock going through his mind. He hesitantly steps closer, still uncertain of Hunter’s intentions. Once he’s close enough, Hunter grabs his younger brother and pulls him into his chest, wrapping an arm around his back. He shifts Omega in his arm so that she’s still sitting comfortably while he holds Crosshair as close as he can.

 Before Crosshair could even register the sensation of being pulled into a hug, their other vode joined in, practically smothering Omega and Crosshair with affection. Tech wiggled his way close to Hunter’s side, throwing his arms around Crosshair and tucking his face into his shoulder. Echo was closer to Omega, eagerly offering the now teary-eyed girl a hug when she spotted him. And Wrecker? Well, Wrecker used his enhanced size to hug them all.

 Crosshair blinked, the weight of his vode bringing back fuzz-tinted memories of days long gone. He blinked again, feeling the unfamiliar sting of tears prick at the edges of his eyes. He took in a shuddering breath, the fear of rejection slowly bleeding out of him.

 “Welcome back, vod.” It was Echo’s voice this time, kind and heavy with relief.

 “’s good to be back.” He whispered, resting his chin on Hunter’s shoulder.

 Suddenly, there’s a noise. A shifting of feet on a metal floor makes Crosshair pull back, remembering that it wasn’t just him and Omega that had walked down the hall.

 “Cal,” He called, turning back towards the doorway. “come on out, ad’ika.”

 The Batch and Rex, who had come over once he’d realized that someone hadn’t revealed themself yet, peered curiously towards the doorway. Hunter could hear a small heartbeat increase as the hidden figure slowly poked his head out of the shadows. Startlingly green eyes broke the pattern of light browns, the boy glancing nervously at the group. He shuffled in place, looking like he wanted to bolt.

 They stared at him, he stared at them. All was silent.

 “Is that the kid you stole?”

 “TECH!”

 The kid’s face crinkled with amusement when Crosshair smacked Tech upside the head, scowling at him.

 “Yeah, I’m his stolen Jedi kid. Took me out of my jail cell right as I was getting comfortable.” He joked, laughing when Crosshair lightly smacked him on the head.

 “Shush, you little womp rat. If you were stolen by anyone, it was that Jedi.”

 “She would’a gave us back.”

 “Debatable. You and Omega are very likeable.”

 Wrecker laughed at the conversation. “Aw, Crossy’s gone soft.”

 “Wrecker.” Crosshair warned, bristling at the nickname.

 “Crossy?!” Cal, Rex, and Omega asked, trying not to laugh.

 “Do not call me that!” Crosshair snapped, his cheeks burning red.

 “Softie Crossy! Softy Cros- hurk!” Wrecker started to tease, but was cut off when Crosshair gave him a hard shove. The second-oldest clone let out a playful yell and pulled Crosshair down, wrestling with him on the floor.

 “Ori’vod, help me out!” Wrecker yelled, trying to wrangle Crosshair. The younger clone was too slippery, however, and Crosshair soon managed to wrap his legs around Wrecker’s neck, squeezing just enough to cut off most of his airflow.

 Hunter laughed, an actual, full-belly laugh. It had been years since he’d done that!

 “Tech, here,” He said, passing a giggling Omega off to his youngest brother, “hold this.”

 Tech accepted the armful of child, smiling at her and planting a kiss on her forehead. She leaned into him, tucking herself under his chin.

 “Hello, sarad’ika.” He said softly, taking a moment to fully realize the fact that Omega was back, that his inability to protect her hadn’t ended in her demise. “Gar cuyir bid kotir, ad'ika.”

 “Tech,” She whined, wiggling a bit to get comfortable,“I don’t know what that means. You guys need to teach me whatever language you’re speaking.”

 “We will, little one. I was just saying that you’re very brave, even when you were faced with a terrible situation.” Tech said, giving her an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry that I couldn’t keep you safe when you needed me to.”

 “It’s okay, Tech. I’m actually glad I got caught. Otherwise, I never would have met Cal.” She said, looking towards the redhead. He was cheering Crosshair on, Echo carefully watching to make sure he didn’t accidentally get dragged into the playful brawl.

 “Ah yes, our surprise addition.” Tech said, turning to look as well. “We’re going to have to build a new bunk.”

 “Me and him can sleep on Crosshair’s ship.” Omega said.

 Tech tightened his hold, almost looking distressed at her suggestion. “No. You aren’t allowed to leave our sight, not again. We can leave that Imperial scrapheap here.”

 “No we can’t! Pillow’s still in his weird cocoon thing.” Omega protested.

 “A… cocoon?” Tech questioned.

 “Yeah. He put himself into a big crystal!” She said, spreading her arms out as if to emphasize how large the object was.

 “An amphibian creating a cocoon is bizarre, but a crystalline one? That’s unheard of.” Tech muttered. “I need to analyze it. Would you like to come with me, or stay here?”

 “Stay with you.” Omega said, tucking herself back underneath Tech’s chin. She didn’t want to be put down, didn’t want to be without contact right now. The Force sang happily around her, pleased by her reuniting with her family.

 Tech chuckled and adjusted her so that he was holding her with one arm.

 “Very well then, let’s go see our crystallized friend.”

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [87]

iii. false gods

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: violence, fighting, angst, mentions of drowning, blood, language.

Summary: with your ticket off of Skyring destroyed, desperation sinks in...

a/n: this is one of my favorites :) the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

As you kneel, staring at the shattered pieces of the memory viewer, you hear Gabriel gasp, “Do you realize what you've done?”

The man’s raspy voice answers, “I couldn't let you leave! For all mankind! You don't understand!”

And in that moment, you swear you see red. You feel nothing other than the anger that pulses through you, white hot. It heats your blood until you're sure you’re boiling, a volcano just ready to explode. And the man's insistence that you don't understand when it’s clearly him that doesn't understand? It’s enough to make you erupt. 

You rise to your feet and cross the room lightning fast, before anyone can even process your movements. You catch the prisoner off guard, which makes it easier for your first punch to land. And the second. And the third. You feel your knuckles split when they make contact with his cheekbone, but you keep punching, your black blood mixing with his red blood. You don't stop swinging when you hear the others yelling your name and begging for you to stop, and you don't stop when someone grabs your arm and tries to hold it still. You just shake them off and swing again, but your fist doesn't land this time, because someone suddenly wraps their arms around you and lifts you off the ground, carrying you backwards, creating space between you and the madman. 

You see Hope and Echo staring at you as you are carried backwards, and you know that Gabriel is the one restraining you. You kick and flail and scream, trying to wiggle free and reach the prisoner again, prepared to keep punching him until there is no anger left and the fire in your body cools. But Gabriel just holds you tighter, and Hope yells to be heard over your screaming, “Stop! He can't help us off this planet if he's dead!”

“Help us?” The words practically leave your mouth as a growl as your anger turns feral. You still your movements long enough to direct a glare Hope’s way. This time, you’re sure she is the one thankful that looks can't kill, because yours are nothing short of murderous in this moment. Your voice steadily rises as you yell, “He just destroyed our one way off this planet! Does he look like he can help us?”

Everyone turns to glance at him, the prisoner’s face a mix of red blood and black blood, his breathing slightly labored. And you know that at any other moment, the regret and shame would start to kick in now. But in this moment, Wanlida is in control, and she doesn't care that he's injured. She just wants him gone. 

You start to fight and try to free yourself from Gabriel’s arms again, and your movements must spook the man, because he takes off running out the back door, disappearing into the trees. Frustrated with Gabriel’s iron grip, you lean forward then send your head back, headbutting him. Your skull makes contact with his brow bone, and Gabriel lets out a grunt of pain before dropping you straight onto your butt. You don't even take a second to check on him before scrambling to your feet and running out the front door, ignoring the calls of your friends behind you. This time, you're not searching for the prisoner, because your feet are taking you in the opposite direction. You’re not even sure of where you're going until you break free from the treeline and your eyes land on the lake in front of you, a faint green glow beneath the water's surface. 

You can hear Gabriel, Echo, and Hope calling your name and clambering through the woods after you, and without another moment of hesitation, you take off running again, closing the short distance between you and the waters edge. You slosh through the first few feet, and then you take a deep breath and dive under, opening your eyes to look around you. The green glow of the Anomaly is straight ahead, and you begin your frantic swim towards it, each stroke of your arms and kick of your legs taking you deeper and deeper into the lake. 

You swim until your legs feel tired and your arms are sore, and still the Anomaly seems no closer than when you first jumped into the water. You redirect yourself and start swimming straight down, fighting through the fatigue so you can get to Bardo. As you swim, you think only of Bellamy and Clarke, using them as your motivation to get off of Skyring, because five years here, means five years without them. You’ve already spent six years without Bellamy when everyone left you and Clarke behind, and that was agonizingly long enough. You hated it then, and you don't want to do it again now. The only time you spent without Clarke was when you were locked up in the Skybox, and then the few months she left after Mount Weather, and all of these moments only serve to remind you how important it is for you to get back to her. Because the two of you need each other. You're the twins, the Griffin Girls, the moon and the stars, Wanheda and Wanlida, Castor and Pollux, Azrael and Azazel. You need each other more than anything, because you're stronger together, and she probably doesn't even know you’re missing right now. You need to get back to her before she realizes you're gone, before she has to experience the heartbreak of losing her twin right after losing your mother. You can’t do that to her. You won't do that to her. 

Which is why you keep swimming. 

Your ears start to pop as you get deeper, the pressure squeezing your body. Your lungs start to ache and burn, the oxygen rapidly running out, and you turn to glance back at the surface of the lake. At this point, you’ve made more progress than you realize. You're deep down, down below in the dark part of the lake, the only light now coming from the Anomaly. If you turn around now, you might not even make it back up for air. 

Which is why you keep swimming, your body moving towards the green glow.

The loss of oxygen starts to become painful, the dull ache now akin to a fiery burn, your lungs feeling like they've shriveled up and died without the air they need. But the Anomaly is so close now, and you swear you can just reach out and touch it, if you only swim a 

few

          more

                     feet.

But those few feet turn into a few meters, and those meters turn to miles, and suddenly you realize that your vision is starting to blur. Everything is getting fuzzy around you, and it's not because of the water. There is no oxygen left in your lungs, and your body starts to twitch, unable to process life or movement without the precious substance. Your vision starts to go black, beginning at the edges and then moving towards you slowly, and you reach your hands up to your necklace, clutching the moon charm in your grip, and letting the finger of your right hand rest on the ring on your left. You let your eyes close, accepting the death that approaches you, dying with the knowledge that you really tried everything you could to get back to Clarke and Bellamy. You swam until there was nothing left for you but the bright green pulse of the Anomaly below you. 

You feel a sense of peace wash over you as the darkness rushes in, the last few inches filling your vision until it is all you know. It stretches out in front of you, endless like the sky, and you know your time has come.

-

You feel someone collapse on top of you, waking you from the darkness. 

You groan, your mind and body only asleep for a few hours before whatever rude awakening has just occurred. The body wiggles, trying to get your attention, and you pry your eyes open with another groan, your eyes landing on someone stretched across your lower half.

Bellamy Blake is laying across your legs, a huge smile on his face.

You grab your blanket and tug it up and over your face, closing your eyes again and inviting the darkness of sleep back to you. But Bellamy has different plans, because he stands from the bed and yanks the blanket off of you, exposing you to the cold air in your room. Your eyes fly open and you glare at your boyfriend, who stands holding the blanket with a mischievous grin. “Bellamy, give it back. Lincoln kicked my ass in training this morning, and then Kane kicked my ass in guard training this afternoon. I’m tired, I want to sleep.”

“No. No sleep.” 

You roll your eyes before closing them, turning away from him and curling into a ball in an attempt to keep yourself warm. But Bellamy grabs your ankles and tugs, pulling you towards the edge of the bed, and you let out a shriek of surprise. “Bellamy, what the hell are you doing?”

He smiles down at you, completely unbothered by your grumpy attitude. “It’s what we’re doing.”

“We’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“No, we’re going swimming.”

You give him a confused look. “I don't know how to swim.”

“I know, that’s why I’m going to teach you!”

Your confusion only deepens. “Now? In the middle of the night?”

“It’s the only time we both have free these days. Besides, you never know when it’ll come in handy.”

You stare up at your boyfriend’s eager face, noting the clear excitement he has over this prospect, and you know you’d do anything to see his joy continue, especially these days. With Clarke gone and the burden of Mount Weather weighing heavily on both of you, you can’t resist the desire to see him happy. Which is why you hide your smile and groan back, “Fine, let’s go swimming.”

Bellamy’s smile grows wider and he scoops you out of bed, setting you on the ground before handing you your clothes. You dress quickly and the two of you slip from your shared room and out of the camp without any issues, heading down to the lake that borders your home. There’s talks to extend the fence around the camp to one day include this lake, but for now, it sits just outside, bordered by the home of the sky people.

When you and Bellamy get to the water’s edge, he quickly strips until he's left in nothing but his underwear, and without hesitation he dives into the lake headfirst, his body arching through the air in a way that seems so beautiful to you. His head pops back up a second later, his curls clinging to his skin and the big grin still on his face. “Your turn.”

“Yeah, right.”

He laughs, light and happy, and you think about how you rarely hear that laugh these days. Just another thing the Mountain took. Bellamy senses the dark cloud you've invited to hang over you, always so eager to appear at the thought of Mount Weather, and he shakes his head and calls out, “None of that. Take your clothes off!”

You laugh and quip, “This is just an elaborate ruse to get me naked, isn't it?”

“Maybe.” He draws the word out, before the two of you start to laugh, the happiness chasing away the darkness of Mount Weather, at least for a little while. You strip quickly until you’re left in your undergarments, and then you stand just at the edge of the lake, looking at Bellamy with skepticism. “Now what?”

He swims towards you, walking the last few feet and coming to stop in front of you. He holds out his hand, his voice soft and serious. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life.” Your tone is just as serious, and he knows you mean it. You take his hand and he walks backwards towards the water again, leading you into the lake until the water reaches your waist. You feel your anxiety spike a little with each step you take into the water, but you meant it when you told Bellamy you trust him with your life. You know he won't let you drown. So when he leans down to scoop you up in his arms, you let out a little laugh and let him. The two of you lock eyes, and his voice is still soft, trying not to break the serenity of the moment. “Lie back. I’m not going to let go of you.”

You nod and lean backwards until the back of your head is in the water, your hair fanning out around you. Bellamy holds you in place as your body bobs along the surface of the water, and after a moment you realize that you’re floating. You turn slightly to lock eyes with your boyfriend again, a wide smile on your face, and he's looking at you with awe and adoration. You feel your face heat up beneath his gaze, and you try to break the seriousness of the moment by asking, “Wait, I've been with you almost every day since we landed. When the hell did you learn how to swim?”

Bellamy lets out a laugh, short and light, before shaking his head a little, amusement lighting up his face. “Believe it or not, I learned on the Ark.”

“You learned how to swim on a spaceship in the middle of the sky?”

He can hear the disbelief in your voice, and he nods. “I taught myself how to swim in our bathtub.”

Laughter takes over your body as you picture Bellamy teaching himself how to swim in less than a foot of water in his bathtub, the mental image making you wish you could have seen the real moment with your own two eyes. For now, you just have to let your imagination run wild, allowing the laughter to roll through you, nearly taking you under the water. Bellamy's arms keep you on top of the water as he watches you laugh, your amusement bringing a smile to his face. When your laughter turns into soft giggles, he gives you a fake serious look. “I need you to focus, Miss Griffin. You have to master floating before you can learn to swim.”

You give him a similar serious look, using it to hide your smile. “My apologies, Mr. Blake. I’m ready to try again.”

You lean back again, letting yourself be weightless as your body rises in the water, supported by Bellamy’s arms. After a quiet moment, he whispers, “Good. I’m going to let go now, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right at your side.”

He must sense the flash of fear that has washed over you, because he adds, “Just look up at the sky and focus on the moon. Don't think about it, just let your body do the work.”

You let yours eyes search the sky until you find the moon, a pretty crescent shape, shining her pretty light down on you. You focus on her as Bellamy slips his arms from beneath you, but as promised, his body stays close to your own, his warmth still finding you in the cool lake. Your eyes stay locked on the sky, the darkness of the night the only thing you can see. From one edge of your vision to the other, there is nothing but stars and the moon. As your body floats on the surface of the water, your ears underwater, muffling the sound of the night, it’s easy to think that you're swimming in the sky. Floating with the stars, weaving between them, part of the sky, the way you always dreamed you would be.

-

Your eyes fly open and you take a sputtering breath, before you turn to the side and cough, water spewing from your mouth and onto the dirt beside you. You cough and wheeze for a few moments, until you're sure the water has left your lungs, and then you collapse back onto the dirt again, your eyes landing on the open sky. Stretched above you, arching across the sky like a halo, is a set of rings.

Your mind is already starting to question your whereabouts, your suspicions confirmed when Gabriel’s worried face leans into your view, a cut running through his eyebrow, already scabbing with black blood. You grimace a little, remembering the headbutt that gave him the injury, and he must notice, because he shrugs, “Can’t even feel it.”

Echo’s face appears on your other side, looking down at you with concern. “Do you know where you are?”

“Skyring.”

A third voice chimes in, “Do you know what happened?”

You try to sit up, struggling a little until Echo and Gabriel pull you into a sitting position. “Yeah, a bunch of people from a different planet stole my fiance, and we got stranded here after a crazed man that talks to dead people smashed our one way ticket out of here.”

“And you nearly drowned.”

Your teeth chatter slightly, your hair clinging to your face as you level a glare at Hope. “Yes, and I nearly drowned.”

“That was stupid. Octavia was here for ten years, six of which she spent trying to reach the pretty light at the bottom of the lake. She never drowned herself though.”

Your glare deepens, your embarrassment starting to set in. Hope pulls herself to her feet, glancing at the others. “Come on, we have a lot of work to do if we’re going to spend five years here.”

Gabriel and Echo hesitate, both of them looking at you with worry, but you shrug them off. “I’m fine.”

Gabriel levels a look at you. “Hope’s right, you nearly died. You should take it easy for the rest of the day.”

You nod, too exhausted to fight him on it. With your agreement in place, he holds a hand out to you, and he and Echo pull you to your feet, helping you walk back to the cabin. Gabriel leaves you at the edge of the garden with Echo, disappearing into the house briefly before returning with a blanket. He drapes it over your shoulders, your teeth chattering harder than you realized. He leaves to help Hope, and Echo stays with you for a while, clearly worried about leaving you on our own. You can tell she isn't sure what to say, obviously unfamiliar with the type of desperation that leaves you willing to make stupid decisions that might get you killed. But after a while, she can tell you’re craving some time to yourself, so she too leaves, though she makes sure to linger close, in case you decide to bolt again. 

But you don't move. You stay solidly rooted in place, unmoving for a while, your thoughts practically eating you alive. You are stuck on Skyring, truly stuck, all of your options spent. The only way off is when the crazy man gets to leave. But until then, you’re stuck here. The thoughts that you had while swimming to the Anomaly come flying back to you. Five years on Skying means five years with no Bellamy and no Clarke. They likely won't even notice you're gone. They won't feel the passage of time without you, but you will. You will feel each passing second that you spend separated from the two most important people in your life. The thought is agonizing. 

Also agonizing is the thought that you nearly drowned trying to reach them both, almost leaving them alone in the world without you. And you know now that if you want to save them, you need to be smarter. No more hasty decisions that result in near death experiences. You need to be calculating and calm. No more emotional choices. No more thinking with your heart. Your head is the one making the rules now.

You were the one that dove into the water, but Wanlida was the one that was dragged out, still and unbreathing. And when Gabriel brought you back to life, it was Wanlida that opened her eyes. She’s here with you now, hanging in the background, leaving you feeling cold and icy and empty. She’s ready to take over, ready to make the decisions for you. She knows that your heart will always rule you, but Wanlida? She’s ruled by her head. She doesn’t feel pain or loss or sadness. She calculates and decides, bringing death to all who stand in her way.

That's why you sit at the edge of the group, ignoring the light banter of the others behind you, your Grounder knife now in hand. You grab a discarded garden tool that lays nearby, and use it to add notches to the list of your kills. One line for Asher, who nearly killed you and nearly killed your twin. One line for the disciple that almost shot Hope on your way to the Anomaly. Your total count now up to 13, and that’s just kills from this knife. 

When you start to add up all the kills Wanlida has helped you make, the number grows larger than you can stand, and you stop, pretending it's because you lost count. But really it's because you’re starting to wonder if you can really do better when Wanlida lives inside you. You can't get rid of her now, because you need her to save Bellamy. You need her strength and willingness to kill, but who will you be if you accept that help? Can you come back from that? Can you come back from her?

-

As soon as Clarke gets back from school, she makes a beeline past you, heading straight for the bathroom you share. When she runs past, you don't miss the tears that streak down your twin’s face, or the sob she tries to stifle. But by the time you make it to the bathroom door, it’s locked with you one one side and Clarke on the other. You knock tentatively, your voice soft. “Clarke? What’s wrong?”

She doesn't answer, but you can hear her quiet sobs from the other side of the door, and your anxiety grows, wanting to know what happened. “Let me in, shining star. Talk to me.”

Her crying softens for a minute, but you can't hear anything else from inside the bathroom, and your fear spikes until you hear the click of the lock receding. You twist the knob and tentatively push the door open, your twin somehow back on the other side of the bathroom, tucked in the corner, her knees pulled to her chest, her face hidden from view. You still don't know what happened, but you get the sense that Clarke doesn't want to talk about it, at least not yet. So you do the only thing you can think to make her feel better, and you start to draw up a bath. 

You know you shouldn't. The Ark has water allotments, even the Privileged, though they tend to be more lax with your group. But your twin is upset and she doesn't want to talk about it, and it's the only thing you can think to do. So you run some quick math in your head, and you think you can make up for the loss of water if you skip your next few showers. You never see anyone besides your family anyways, so it’s not like it really matters.

You fill the tub as much as you can before it makes you anxious, hoping it’s hot enough to do the trick. Warm water is never a promise on the Ark, it’s more like a surprise. Sometimes the heaters work, sometimes they don't. Today is one of those days where thankfully, they seem to work really well. With the water warm enough, you walk over to your sister and drop down in front of her. “Get in the tub, I’ll be over in a second.”

She looks up at you, her face puffy and tear stained, before she weakly nods and moves over to the tub, quickly undressing with her back to you. You turn away and walk over to the sink and drop to your knees, reaching for a loose panel near the floor, prying it off and moving it aside. There, tucked away in a hidden spot, is the last of your special soap. 

It was something your dad managed to get for you, though you have no idea how, because you didn't even think they made soap like this on the Ark. Most Ark soap is practical, made out of whatever they have on hand, pressed into lumpy bars that don't smell great, but don't necessarily stink either. They just smell like..Ark soap. There's no other way to describe it. 

But this soap? This soap is special. It’s smooth, and unlike the gray green blob of Ark soap, it’s pale blue. It smells like vanilla, and your father etched a moon onto the top before gifting it to you for your 13th birthday. Your parents both said 13th birthdays are a big deal, which is why Clarke got her nicest art set yet. You don't have any specific hobbies like Clarke does, and your dad said he wasn't sure what to get you until he discovered the soap, and once he saw it, he knew it was perfect. You have treasured this bar of soap, using it as sparingly as possible over the last year and a half, because you rarely have access to nice things. You rarely have access to anything. Still, this is important. Clarke is upset, and this soap is magic, you’re sure of it. It has always cheered you up on bad days. 

You take the soap back over to the tub, grabbing a small cup along the way, and you glance at Clarke, who is now situated in the warm water. You sit on the edge of the tub and use the cup to gently pour water over her hair, wetting it well. Then you grab the last of your soap and rub it between your hands, creating a lather, which you transfer onto Clarke's head. You massage the soap into her hair, making sure to cover every strand, using every last bit of soap that you have. As soon as Clarke gets a whiff of the smell, she whispers, “Your special soap.”

Her voice is raspy from crying, but you ignore it and nod, before you realize that she can't see you. You whisper back, “You need it more than I do.”

She’s quiet for a minute and you start to rinse the soap from her hair carefully before she breaks her silence. “Do you remember Katie?”

“The girl that you like?”

Clarke nods weakly, and you continue rinsing before she continues talking. “I told her I liked her today.”

You suspect the response wasn't a good one, but you know Clarke is waiting for you to say something, so you ask, “What did she say?”

“She said I was a selfish, privileged snob and she would never like someone like me.” Clarke starts to cry again, the tears falling down her face and landing in the bathtub beneath her. “I just don't understand what happened. Two days ago she was holding my hand during lunch, and today she’s calling me a snob.”

You squeeze Clarke’s shoulder in comfort. “She doesn't know what she’s missing, Clarke. You’re the least selfish person I know, and you're not a privileged snob. I don't know what happened or why she's acting this way, but you're the best person I know. You're a shining star, bright and brilliant, and one day Katie will realize that she's missing out, but it'll be too late.”

Clarke nods, her crying already starting to slow down, your words bringing her comfort. She glances at you over her shoulder, meeting your eyes for the first time since she got home. “Thank you, la lune.”

“I’ll always be here for you, Clarke. I’d do anything for you, no matter what.”

She smiles a little, her voice sounding stronger when she mutters, “Stronger together.”

You smile back and repeat, “Stronger together.”

-

next chapter

[matbaerzal]

Moments | A. Beauvillier

Summary: You and Beau have a beautiful baby boy together. A/N: This would seriously not have happened if it wasn’t for baby anon, thigh smacking anon, @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 @quinny-boy-hughes @fraction-of-a-flying-puck @thirteenisles​ and @tkachukme​, thank you so much for the inspiration and encouragement!!  Warnings: Shirtless Tito with a baby. Words: 1,8K Copyright © @matbaerzal 2020 All Rights Reserved

You and Anthony had been trying to get pregnant for ages. You’d gone through the stages, first you had a lot of sex, the excitement of taking that next step spurring you on. And when you still weren’t pregnant you got more strategic, kept track of your ovulation and scheduled sex after that. That took the fun out of it, and made you even more frustrated when tests came back negative. You‘d seen your doctor, everything was fine, and they told you to just be patient.

Another negative test had you huffing out a breath, Tito was right next to you “Baby, we just -“,  “have to be patient, I know” you finished his sentence. He brushed his fingers through your hair to comfort you, “I don’t think this whole schedule thing is good for us, it’s too much pressure on you” he said. You nodded, sniffling as you cuddled into his chest. “It’ll happen when it happens, so let’s go back to having some fun with it, yeah?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at the end. You let out a laugh, and he smiled knowing he cheered you up. That night you were reminded why you love him so much.

It was Tito that pointed out that you were late for your period, so you took another test. You waited anxiously for the results to show, giving the test to him because you were too nervous to look. You sat facing him on the couch, bouncing your leg, impatient for the result. The timer on your phone went off and you scrambled to turn it off. You looked back at him, and purely by the look on his face, you knew the test came back positive. His smile took over his whole face - he leapt up, scooped you up in a crushing hug before he quickly loosened his hold. “Shit, don’t want to hurt our baby” he said with tears in his eyes.

Hearing him say those words sent a shock through your body, tearing up yourself, “our baby” you whispered. He looked at you with so much love and adoration and nodded. His hand went to rub your stomach, and you leaned your forehead against his, placed your hand above his. The way he kissed you swept you off your feet, it was firm, yet the softest kiss ever.

You thought he cried a lot when you found out that you were pregnant, but oh my god, at the first ultrasound he was a mess. So proud of you, and so happy to finally start a family with you. He was a saint during your pregnancy, any weird request you had, he didn’t argue. He was obviously away sometimes, due to his career, but he called you as soon as he had some spare time. He brought parenting books to read on the plane, and sat with the other dads sometimes to ask them questions. The younger guys on the team chirped him for being whipped, but the ones who already had kids would pat them on the shoulder, “just you wait, that’ll be you one day when you settle down” they’d say. Tito couldn’t care less about the chirps, he didn’t think being whipped was a bad thing, he’d happily go to the ends of the world for you.

Luckily you were due to give birth at the start of summer, so Anthony would get a lot of quality time with you and the baby. You had a plan of what to do when the time came, you were giving birth in New York, because that’s where your doctor was. You had packed your hospital bag, it was placed right by your door so you wouldn’t forget it. Though things don’t always go to plan, and your water broke when you were out for lunch with Anders and Grace. Your bag was obviously still in your apartment, and Tito felt useless as all the things he had read went out of his head. You were lucky to have Grace there, she’d been through this before and told you both to take a deep breath. She and Anders would go get the bag for you whilst you made your way to the hospital.

10 hours later you were holding your beautiful baby boy in your arms. Anthony had been next to you holding your hand, not once complaining when you gripped his hand particularly hard. He laid next to you in the hospital bed, admiring you and your newborn baby. The love you were feeling unlike anything you’d ever felt. Henri Noah Beauvillier was perfectly healthy, his little chubby cheeks nothing but adorable.

“We did pretty good, didn’t we?” you said looking up at Anthony, “you did most of the heavy lifting” he replied, a proud look in his eyes. You carefully gave Henri over to Tito, who happily took him. “We’re gonna be ok at this, right?” he said, looking at you for reassurance. You took a deep breath, feeling the same nervousness as him, “Yeah, I think we will”.

You travelled to Québec as soon as it was safe for little Henri, wanting to spend as much time with family as possible before the preseason. You were in awe of Tito, more often than not he’d check on Henri during the night, insisting you should keep sleeping. Sometimes you’d get up regardless, just to admire your two boys. Knowing if you were quiet enough you’d be able to hear Tito whispering sweet nothings in french to your baby before he noticed you. When he eventually did notice you, he’d motion for you to come over, wrap his arms around you and kiss your forehead. You’d stand there for a moment, until you knew Henri had settled again before going back to bed.

In the mornings Tito would get up to bring Henri into your bedroom, so you could feed him in bed. Then whilst you did that, he’d go to the kitchen and make the two of you breakfast. He truly spoiled you, and you wondered everyday how you got so lucky to have him in your life. Sometimes you’d have breakfast in bed, Henri would lay between you, smiling up at you, babbling nonsense.

Tito insisted that you go out for lunch with your friends, you were hesitant, not because you didn’t trust him, but your days revolved around Henri now. So you couldn’t imagine going two hours without him, but you hadn’t spent time with your friends without interruptions for a while so you didn’t argue too much. He sent you a couple photos of Henri during your lunch, to ease your mind.

When you came home after, you couldn’t see or hear your two boys at first. It was only when you neared the living room that you heard Anthony’s soft snore. You found them on the couch, Henri laid peacefully asleep on his chest, Henri’s little snore matched his dad’s. You let out a giggle as you saw a little pool of drool on Tito’s bare chest. You took your phone out of your pocket, not able to resist the urge to capture the moment.

You quietly moved to the kitchen to get a glass of water and a napkin, trying your best to not wake your boys up. When you got back to the living room they were still asleep, so you carefully sat down in the chair next to the couch. You admired them as you took a sip of your water, you picked up the book on the coffee table and set your glass and napkin down. You’d made a bit more noise than intended and you cursed yourself when you saw Tito stir in his sleep. He groaned quietly as he woke up, Henri, luckily, still peacefully asleep as Tito blinked his eyes open. He smiled when he saw you, then looked down to see his son still asleep.

“Hey” he whispered, his voice deep with sleep, “how was lunch?” he asked. “It was good,” you smiled. You got up from the chair, went over to him and gave him a soft kiss “though I’m glad to be home with my boys”. You grabbed the napkin and motioned for him to lift his head so you could sit down on the couch, quickly sitting down so he could put his head in your lap. Your hand found his hair, and you gave him the napkin for the drool. He carefully placed it under Henri’s head, and your hand that wasn’t in his hair went to his bare chest. “Did it get too warm or something?” you smirked, he looked up at you, matching your smirk. “I read that skin to skin contact is very important, but I could put a shirt on if you want” he teased. “Oh, I wasn't complaining” you smirked, “at all”.

When the season started back up again, Tito cherished the moments he got with his son even more. He’d gone and bought skates for Henri, as the annual family skate was coming up. They were a bit too big, and Henri had only just started to crawl, let alone walk - but Tito had insisted that he wear the skates. With Henri sitting on your lap on the bench next to the rink Tito tied his skates with an excited smile on his face. When he was all done he took him in his arms and got on the ice, you followed after him. Phone in hand to capture your baby’s first of many times on the ice.

Tito had a secure grip of Henri under his armpits, Henri laughing a glorious laugh as he slid across the ice with the help of his dad. "Look at you go! you're doing amazing!" Tito praised, looking at you, heart filled with pride over his son. You put your phone back in your pocket and smiled at his excitement, knowing that Tito was the one doing all the work. But you knew he couldn’t care less, and he had every right to be proud of his son, you were so proud of him too.

The day Henri skated on his own for the first time was the best day of Tito’s life. He was 3 and a half years old, and more charming than ever. Tito was on the ice with him, but tried his best to give him space to learn, only swooping in when he saw Henri was about to fall. “Papa, maman, look!” he said as he pushed himself across the ice with one leg, a mini hockey stick in hand helping him keep his balance. You were both already looking of course, Tito singing praises at his boy.

Moments like these made you realise how lucky you were to have your two boys in your life. Moments like these you knew you’d remember forever, and you knew that there were many more to come. Now you were waiting for Anthony to come home with a positive pregnancy test in your hand. Excited to give Henri a sibling, knowing now that you and Tito would be just fine. Henri was more than excited to learn he’d be getting a little sister. You couldn’t have asked for a better family than the one you have made with Anthony.

[alloveroliver]

Vincent x MC "Masterpiece."

Rating: Fluff to Smut 18+

A|N: This goes from “Aww.” to “:O” really fking fast. 

WC: 3,300+

Ikemen Vampire Fanfic

Without cars and crowds, the evening wind picked up nothing but serene sounds. Crickets gently chirped, and leafs quietly brushed one another. The branches rustled together, making an organic symphony that the wind carried up to the balcony you leaned on.

Vincent’s warm hands ran up and down your forearms, warming your chilled skin. From behind, he bent forward and nipped at the shell of your ear. 

“Is that better?” His silky hands moved faster, creating heated friction. 

“Mmm,” You relished in the sensation. “Much better.”

His gentle chuckle against your pulse made you wiggle into him. Vincent pressed his solid chest against your back and sighed. “Maybe if you were wearing more than just my shirt, you wouldn’t be so chilly.” 

“I just want to be out here for a moment. The fresh air is nice.” You pressed your lips together into a thin line and angled your face to him. “Don’t you agree?”

Crystal clear eyes, unintentionally smoldering, met yours. “If only I found fresh air as pleasurable as you do.” 

“You can’t be satiated, can you?” You cocked a brow. You grew closer and swept your lips over his warm temple. 

“Neither can you, my darling.” 

It was the truth; in fact, everyone in the mansion knew this fact at this point. Neither of you left the confines of Vincent's large room in over a day, barely leaving 48 hours prior to attending a special dinner hosted by Comte himself. It was ‘mandatory,’ according to Sebastian, who you understood to be trying to get you two to socialize once again with the house members. 

At dinner, Vincent couldn’t behave himself, and you too felt the shroud of lust still looming over your heads. The result of a new relationship with someone who you had extreme chemistry with. His fingers teased your inner thighs, and his lips met your neck and mouth many times before Isaac asked not-so-kindly to ‘get a room.’ Sebastian tisked, and Arthur winked as Vincent obliged, pulling you by the hand until you made it back to his room. 

“I don’t deny that.” Your thoughts were brought back to the present moment, to your handsome boyfriend clinging to you. Biting your lips, you cupped his cheek in your hand to angle his mouth to yours. He met you with fervent youthful energy. 

His fingers slid through your hair as he kissed you again and again. “I have a new idea. It’s something to help your muscles relax.”

“Is that so? What does this idea entail?” You hooked your arms around his neck and let the sparkling sky be the backdrop of your view. 

“I want to paint your body.” His nose brushed yours, making his golden hair tickle your warm skin. 

“That does sound amazing. Even if you are the reason for my sore muscles.” 

His chuckle was light and airy. Warm breath danced over your skin as he pulled you in for a sensual kiss.

Back in the bedroom, you pulled your hair up into a top-knot bun and slowly unbuttoned the oversized shirt you’d borrowed from your boyfriend. Vincent was always gracious enough to let you borrow his clothes during the time spent in his room. It was only lightly stained with streaks of blues and oranges, a painting shirt that engulfed you in his soothing scent. 

“Slower.” He tilted his head down from where he sat on the floor. His eyes darkened, and his bangs cast a shadow over his features. “Undress slower for me.” 

You halted at the button below your breasts, twining the button flirtatiously before removing it from the slit. It was a powerful feeling, knowing how deeply you were affecting him. However, moving at such a sluggish pace made him wildly impatient. His chest heaved, watching your body become bared for him.

The extra sheet on the bed wrinkled when you lay across it. The white cotton licked at your glowing skin, helping to soothe your bashful state. Entirely bare, you were prepped to become his new canvas — a blank slate for him to work into a unique piece. Vincent watched you from the corner of his eye, unrolling his leather paintbrush holster. 

He found a medium-sized brush, larger than the ones he was used to using on a flat canvas. He chose a one and a half-inch wide soft bristle paintbrush, with a long solid handle. He examined the piece, smoothing the bristles down with his fingers before deciding on it. 

“Do you want me on my stomach, or…?” You spoke quietly, watching the night air pour into the bedroom window and rustling the light curtains. 

Vincent shone a bright smile, “Your back would be a great place to start. Laying on your stomach would be ideal, for now.” His lulling voice helped your hands unclench the fabric. 

Letting out a long breath, you relaxed against the bed and turned your head to watch him. Vincent sat shirtless on the floor, surrounded by small containers, usually filled with colors. His pants where baggy, riding dangerously low on his hips. He leaned forward, dipping the massive paintbrush into a jar and swirling it around. 

“The mixtures are ready.” He chimed, standing to his feet in one fail swoop. 

Vincent moved the jars closer to the bed and sat them on the floor. You kept an eye on him as long as you could, until he made his way onto the bed behind you. The springs creaked with his weight as he moved to the side of your waist. 

“It smells nicer than your other paint’s scents.” You took in a deep breath and moved your eyes to focus on the flickering candle atop the nightstand. “Is that a new candle?” 

“It is a new candle, but that’s not what you’re smelling.” Vincent flicked the dry brush bristles over your back. Around your spine, the gentle touch of the bristles made you wiggle and jerk. With your hair in a loose messy bun, some strands wiggled free. But, your hair bun wasn’t to be presentable, it was to keep your locks from being covered in colors. 

He was hidden from view, making your eyes begin to wander around the bedroom instead. You tried to focus on the drying canvas that lay flat against the far wall, but it was too far away to make out. The room was filled with hints of you. Smaller shoes sat by the door next to his larger ones, and his bookshelf was littered with small gifts you’d given each other over time. 

Your eyes kept scanning the neutral hues until you landed on some pictures of the two of you together, highlighting the previously bare walls. It was home, a place for your heart to feel full and safe. His arms were also home, his scent was paradise, and his voice was your haven. 

“You’ve been very tense lately.” He began in a low tone. The mood of the room was spa-like as candles flickered, and ambient romantic music played on the radio.

“Hmm,” You adjusted your arms up above you on the sheets. “I’ve been told I carry my stress in my shoulders.”

His fingers tranced your shoulder blades, and he hummed. “Whoever told you that seems to have been right.” 

Vincent leaned over your body and dipped his broad brush into the pot. You prepared yourself for a quiet evening once he began. Your boyfriend had unparalleled focus; only a few people on this planet could ever master. Once he began in on a task, that was the only thing on his mind for miles. 

The first touch of the paintbrush to your spine made your eyes roll back. The liquid was warm to the touch and seemed to penetrate all the way down to your bones. Unlike his other attempts, the extra paint seemed to drip down the dips of your back. 

“Wow, what is that?” You inquired, wondering why he would let the paint drip in such a fashion. “What technique are you using?”

“Well,” He started off, voice soft and low. He dipped the brush again and began to run it along your waistline. “It’s not paint.” 

A moment passed while you wracked your brain to figure out just what he was doing. His lack of super-focus made you question whether he was actually creating something.  

“If it’s not paint, then what is it?” 

Vincent bent down and kissed your shoulder. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. “Take in your surroundings and tell me what you sense.”  

A long brush stroke ran from the bottom of your neck down to the roundness of your backside. Vincent continued the stroke until the brush ran down your calf to your ankle. Closing your eyes like he asked, you took in what information you could. 

The warm sensation radiating from the liquid was definitely strange. It felt amazing, like a small massage everywhere it covered. Taking in a deep breath, a wave of a scent you hadn't noticed washed over you. 

“Lavender?” You whispered. 

“Mhm,” He coaxed. “Yes, and what else?” 

The image of a garden flickered in your mind. “I smell roses.” You giggled when he flicked a checkmark on your back. 

“Correct! Lavender and rose oil mixed in with body oil.” He let the access oil drip along the back of your thighs before rubbing it in with the brush. “These fragrances promote restfulness and relaxation.”

Vincent dipped the brush into the third container and ran it along your neck. The warmth engulfed you, letting your heavy lids close at once. 

“Mmm…” You hummed, relaxing your shoulders as he ran the bristles over them. 

“What do you smell now?” He asked quietly. 

Memories of summer and a crisp relief from the heat floated in your mind. This scent laced with another fruity one that tickled your nose. 

“I feel like I can almost taste the fruit.” You melted further into the bed. 

“Yes.” He praised. “Apple fragrance helps curb anxiety, and the ylang-ylang gives you a sense of peace, relieves tension, and promotes a good night's sleep.” 

Your mind wandered the longer he painted the warm oils on your skin. A thought popped into your head, and you spoke it without much contemplation. 

“Isn’t ylang ylang known for being an aphrodisiac?” Your voice was quieter than the gentle music playing on the radio. 

He was silent for a long moment, swiping the brush in circular motions over your hips. 

“I don’t know,” He leaned in toward the back of your head. “Is it working?” Vincent’s whisper was as soft as silk. Your breath caught, and he chuckled. “I’m teasing, of course.” He snickered and went back to his task. 

Your body grew tenser the longer he brushed along your skin, contrary to what he was trying to accomplish. The thought of a more intimate touch set your heart on a race. The sensuality of the moment came crashing down, and you realized just how hot your body had become. Your skin became silted in a pink hue, either due to the heat of the oil or the internal inferno in your core.

“Vincent?” Your small voice muffled in the sheets. 

“Yes? Would you like more attention to a certain area?” He stated, concerned that he could be doing a much better job. “I’m sorry, this is my first time doing something like this.”

“No, no.” You shook your head and pressed your face into the bedding. “I was just… I wanted to tell you that I want more.” 

Your heart pounded in your ears. After a long pause, you turned your head to peek a look at him. If you hadn’t spoken up, you might have let the evening go by without letting him know just how much he affected you. 

His cheeks dusted in a peach color while he dipped the brush into a pot. The oil dripped over your thighs, and he ran the brush along the inner portion. 

“Like this?” The bristles teased the inner seam of your leg that met your torso. 

“Y-yes.” Your thighs relaxed open, and he took the liberty to explore more of you. 

After a long pause, he cleared his throat. “Your body is so gorgeous.” He whispered. “How you come alive for me is incredible.” 

The bristles ran along your outer lips, and you pressed your face hard into the bed. You could feel your core grow slick from the increasingly intimate touch alone. 

He took his time, making sure to run the brush along every inch of your center. The more he moved the tool, the more defined you could feel the bristles. He ran it between your slit in three-second intervals, moving up and up away from your bundle of nerves. 

“The longer I stroke you, the puffier your pussy gets. Do you like being teased?” His weighted words hung in the air as you held your breath.

“Uh, huh…” You agreed, grasping bedding and pulling it to your chest.

The brush moved down until he swiped it around, yet out of the way, of the spot you wanted it to touch the most. Scented oils mixed with your own lubricant while he purposefully missed the apex of your sex. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He taunted. 

Vincent’s touch made you jump. The sensation of his cold fingers was alien when you were so used to his paintbrush all this time. His fingertips slid along the curve of your ass down between your thighs. 

Your cheeks burned when you realized just what kind of view your boyfriend must be having right now. He sat back between your ankles while your legs were parted. He evidently had a fantastic display of your most intimate places. 

His fingers moved along your folds until they surrounded your summit. He didn't touch the nub but instead used his fingers to spread the hood back and expose the entirety of your clit. 

Whimpering, your legs jerked, wishing to close with embarrassment — what an excellent view he truly had that he could know precisely where to touch. 

“Why are you acting ashamed?” He wondered, moving the brush closer and closer to the exposed nub. “It’s just the two of us. You can relax with me.” Vincent urged. 

It was hard to relax while your heart galloped in your chest. You forced your legs to relax and open a fraction of an inch wider in good faith. 

The bristles, soaked in warm oils, finally met your swollen clit. The gasp you made caused Vincent to pause for a long moment. His ears perked up while his eyes watched your body language. He wondered if he’d hurt you at first but slowly realized the sensitivity you must be dealing with. 

He had teased you long enough that you felt your muscles tense with minimal effort. He swiped the brush over the exposed clit again. The moan you heard rip from your throat sounded foreign even to your own ears. You didn’t know you could sound so lewd in such a simple mewl. 

Pulling his fingers wider, he circled your clit with the brush until your hips bucked into the bed. You wanted to cry. It felt so good. Waves after wave radiated from that spot and washed over your entire being. 

The moans wouldn’t stop. They managed to grow louder and louder as he sped up. Vincent’s breathing was ragged the longer he played with your clit. 

“I-I want you. Can I have you?” He asked, moving the brush so quickly stars began to cloud your vision.

“You don’t have to ask.” You puffed out. The back of your neck began to break out into a sweat while your legs tensed and toes curled. “But let me... ah, just- I’m so close.” 

The bristles brought about a magical feeling against your sensitive skin. With every rotation, your muscles grew more and more taut. It was as if heated water bubbled to the top of the pot before it suddenly spewed over the edge. 

Your body pulsed over and over again, releasing and tensing your core muscles. The sensation of heat washed over you while your body climaxed with force. The last few pulses allowed you to catch your breath from the intense release. 

Vincent tossed the brush to the ground. His hand slipped under your stomach, and he pulled up your hips. His low hanging pants were pushed down over his hips, and his body aligned with yours. 

“I want you so bad, I- I need you.” He kissed along your spine toward your shoulder blade. 

Vincent's teeth scraped the nape of your neck before his lips tantalized your earlobe. Tingles arose on your arm with his immodest touch. 

He held your back to his chest while he slowly pushed his length past your folds. He moved slowly, allowing your hole to stretch in kind with his girth. Pieces of your hair began to fall out of your messy bun and frame your heated face. 

“Ah, Vincent.” Your hand came up, and you buried your fingers in his hair. 

The sense of touch and closeness you felt brought springs of love to life in your chest. You loved him, thoroughly and without any doubts. You knew he was the one, the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. With how much care he took of you and your body, you knew he felt the same. 

Vincent set a slow and shallow pace, making sure to lavish your neck with hundreds of tiny passionate kisses. 

“I love you,” He whispered, warm breath wafting over clammy skin. 

“I love you too. I love you so much.” Your hair fully came undone, unraveling with a spiral like a ribbon. Strands stuck to your forehead and neck, but you didn’t have a moment to mind. 

“I want to bite you, May I?” Rhythmic thrusting was evident in his tone. Vincent kissed his favorite spot below your ear.

“You don’t have to ask…” You used your fingers that were twined in his hair to push his lips harder onto your neck. 

He obliged, sucking lightly to inflame the area before ultimately sinking his teeth into the skin. It was like grabbing the hot end of a curling iron for a split second before the heat felt like that of the orgasm you'd just had. Pleasure raced to every inch of your body until you were entirely under his spell. 

With the combined rocking motion of his hips against your backside and his teeth piercing your neck, you quickly climaxed once more. Vincent moaned and drew your blood in harder with each pulse your tight walls made around his cock. 

You rocked your hips back into him with every thrust he made, egging him on. “You’re going to make me cum.” He moaned, finding a new spot to bite.

Vincent moved faster, filling the room with a mix of wet sounds and heavy panting. He raced to find his own release while indulging in your life force.

The outside world beyond the balcony lived on like normal. Branches rustled against the winds force while leaves broke off and chased the air. Cool weather wafted into the room, bustling up the curtains and smoothing over your heated skin. 

Gentle music on the radio lulled into a new song while Vincent gently held you close in his strong arms. The scent of lavender and sweat permeated the bedroom, leaving both parties coated in a slick sheen. 

.

.

.

When he said, “Let me paint you.” I took it a bit too literally.

Vincent saying “I’m teasing of course.” Took me 900 years not to write “...unless?” asldkfjlsd

Thank you for reading!

Masterlist is at the top of my blog~

[fanficshiddles]

Caught in his web, Chapter 35

Loki was furious that Stones was still trying to get to Chloe. He had barely slept that night because he was so riled up about the situation. Not at all entirely because a certain puppy kept whining during the night…

But Loki was going to have to get rid of Stones sooner rather than later.

Chloe got up early to see to Bear. Then she crawled back into bed next to Loki. She rarely slept in her own room now, unless Loki was really late home from work and she was too tired.

‘You’re getting up in half an hour for college.’ Loki drawled, turning over onto his side to look at her.

She just grumbled in response. She was tired.

‘I didn’t think puppies would be so demanding.’ She said eventually.

Loki chuckled. ‘Not as demanding as I can be.’ He growled and slid his hand to the back of her head, holding her steady as he moved in and kissed her.

-

Chloe came home from college on Wednesday afternoon and was secretly delighted to find Loki was home from work. He and Pete were playing with Bear in the garden, that completely melted her heart.

A big buff, heavily tattooed and scary looking body guard, along with Loki, the most dangerous man in the city who was incredibly intimidating, were both completely melted by a tiny puppy and making cooing noises for him while rolling around in the grass.

She laughed to herself at the sight and then went to join them.

Once they’d tired Bear out, Loki and Chloe went inside while Pete went back to door duty till his shift was over.

Chloe could tell that Loki was in a horny mood… He kept touching her and sneaking kisses from her while she was sorting Bear out. Then during dinner, he slid his hand onto her thigh under the table and kept stroking dangerously high underneath her dress, making her squirm.

She didn’t help matters much because she was feeling it too a little. But the hungry look in his eyes was making her slightly nervous, wondering what exactly he was planning. Because she had a feeling it was going to be more than just a tumble under the sheets.

After dinner, Loki was quick to grab Bear and put him in his puppy pen for safety, then before Chloe could even stand up he grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. She screeched and squirmed, but Loki just chuckled wickedly as he carried her upstairs to his bedroom.

‘I have plans for you, doll.’ He said darkly as he kicked the door shut behind him.

She gulped when he placed her down to her feet. He slid his hand through her hair, leaned in and kissed her, taking her breath away.

‘Turn around.’ He whispered over her lips.

Chloe did as she was told and turned her back to him.

‘Good girl.’ He purred, moving her hair out of the way so he could kiss her neck, making her knees turn weak.

‘Do you trust me?’ He asked, kissing along her shoulder, pushing the sleeve down out of the way as he went.

‘I do.’ She said quietly, trying to hide the fact she was a little nervous at that question, wondering what he had planned for her.

Loki grinned against her skin and pushed her sleeves right down her arms and off, letting her dress slowly fall down her body until it was down at her feet. He unclasped her bra at the back and pulled it off, then reached round her front to massage her breasts and tweak her nipples, making her gasp.

Loki crouched down behind her and slid her knickers down her legs, once they joined her dress at her feet, he took a playful bite of her bum, making her squeak in surprise.

He chuckled and slowly stood up, dragging his hands up her sides, making her break out in goosebumps. He took hold of her wrists and pulled them behind her, her stomach lurched when she felt him tying some rope around her wrists.

Loki made sure the rope was nice and snug around her wrists, not giving her any leeway. Then he guided her over to the bed and helped her on.

He manoeuvred her into the position he wanted. He pressed her upper back down, so her face was into the pillow but turned to the side so she could see him.

‘Bum up, doll.’ He said, patting her bum gently till she raised it up. Loki moved behind her and grabbed her hips, pulling her up a little further, then he pushed her legs wide apart so she was on display for him. ‘That’s it… perfect.’ He purred.

Chloe felt embarrassed with the position he had her in, she felt so exposed.

Loki stroked her bum for a while, then his attention moved further down. He cupped her gently at first, just allowed her to feel the heat from his hand against her cunt. Then he started to slide his fingers through her folds, making her whimper as she tried moving against him.

He chuckled. ‘You are so responsive to me, doll.’ He slid a finger over her clit, making it throb. ‘Your pussy knows who she belongs to.’

Chloe turned her face down into the pillow, her cheeks burning red from the way he was speaking.

Loki kept stroking her clit, making her more and more aroused, her breathing got heavier. He stopped paying direct attention to her clit after a while and slid two fingers into her once, just coating them. Then he trailed his fingers up to unknown territory…

‘Let’s find something else to claim.’ He hummed.

She gasped and tried to lurch forward when he touched her asshole, making Loki tut.

‘Keep still, Chloe. Don’t make me tie your legs down, too.’ He growled.

She flexed her fingers that were still restrained behind her and nervously tried to keep still. Loki used his knees to nudge her legs further open, they’d shuffled closed a little in her surprise.

He lightly stroked her again, she wasn’t sure what she thought or felt about the feeling. It was so foreign to her.

When he moved his hand away, she breathed out in relief. Not realising that she had been holding it for so long.

She heard a small click and, curiously, looked round as best she could to see what he was doing. She could just see him, he was pouring lube onto his fingers. She wondered when he had time to grab the bottle, she never noticed him disappearing.

Loki gave her a wink just before she turned her face back down into the pillow.

When he started stroking her again, she tensed up but he tried to ease her by stroking her lower back with his free hand.

‘Good girl, just keep nice and still.’ He hummed softly, taking hold of her tied wrists to keep her in place. He had a feeling she would try moving otherwise.

As soon as he started to press one finger into her back entrance, she cried out and tried to pull away. Loki tightened his grip on her hands and made sure she kept spread open with his knees in the way against her inner legs.

‘P… please not this!’ She whimpered, still trying to squirm away.

‘Shhh, shhh, doll. Relax your body and it will be much easier.’ He soothed in a firm but gentle tone.

Chloe tried to relax, but really struggled in doing so. Loki’s finger was well lubed though, so he managed to force it right into her. Once in, he kept still until she adjusted to him. Her breathing calmed a little and he knew she was starting to get accustomed to the feeling.

‘That’s my good girl.’ Loki let go of her wrists and was pleased that she stayed still, keeping her ass up in the air for him. He reached down and started stroking her clit again, keeping his other finger lodged inside of her ass.

When he felt her relax more, he started to wiggle his finger. Giving her a weird, yet delightful sensation that surprised her. She was actually slightly disappointed when he removed the finger from her so quickly. But he continued teasing her clit lightly, keeping her in a state of arousal.

Chloe was too far gone in the pleasure and her thoughts about what he was doing, that she never heard or noticed him unbuckling his belt and zipping his trousers down so he could take his cock out. He rubbed himself a few times then lined himself up with her cunt, then pushed in home.

She moaned and her hands fisted up behind her as he didn’t give her time to adjust to him and just started thrusting in and out slowly, hitting deep each time. She could feel every inch of him hitting everywhere, she didn’t think she would ever admit it outright to Loki, but she LOVED his cock. It always felt so good inside her.

With her being so wrapped up in the heavenly feeling of him thrusting into her slowly, she didn’t hear the click of the lube bottle again. It wasn’t until he took hold of her hands once more and forced his thumb inside of her ass that she squealed out loud and tried bucking him off, but that just lodged his thumb in deeper.

Loki moaned as he felt her tightening around him because of the way her body was reacting to the unwanted intrusion in her ass.

‘Easy.’ He cooed, continuing his rhythm and wiggling his thumb about a bit.

She bit the pillow, needing something to sink her teeth into since she couldn’t reach his skin. The new feeling was driving her mad. But there was something about it that she was starting to enjoy, the full feeling of the double penetration. Even if his thumb was tiny in contrast to what was in her cunt.

When he started fucking her with his thumb, in time with his cock, he very quickly had her moaning and trembling in pleasure.

‘Soon, you will be able to take my cock up this ass.’ He growled. That made her tense up again, but it didn’t last long with the way he was fucking her, the pace quickening as they both chased their release.

Chloe was pushing back against him, meeting his thrusts. Loki tightened his grip on her hands and used that as leverage to pull her back against him roughly, grunting and moaning above her.

When he started to cum, he forced himself as deep as he could, always enjoying filling her up. Feeling her walls clench and squeeze every drop possible out of him. She moaned with him, cumming at the same time.

She felt empty when he removed his thumb, but even more so when he slowly pulled out of her cunt too. A trail of cum oozing out of her.

He untied her wrists and lay down beside her. She flopped down, completely spent and exhausted. Loki smoothed her hair off her sweaty forehead and smiled as she looked at him, so dazed.

‘Have I ever told you how delightful your ass is?’ He grinned cheekily, making her laugh.

-

In the evening Chloe was watching a film with Loki. She had her legs draped over his lap and he was gently rubbing her lower legs, that felt heavenly. Bear was happily chewing a toy on the floor, not interested in anything else for a short while.

But Chloe kept thinking about Loki starting anal play with her earlier. It wasn’t something she had ever wanted to try, never mind even contemplate. He hadn’t stopped when she asked him to, but that wasn’t overly surprising. What was annoying her more, was the fact she wanted more… She wanted to try it again. And while the thought of Loki shoving his huge cock up there scared her, it also aroused her to think about.

[jinmukangwrites]

@liccy, sliding into my dms, giving me a list of prompts with the demand I wrote more Dragged Away like some sort of mad lad. Liccy, I love you so much, I hope this is proof of that lmao. I actually sort of forgot about Dragged Away again, but every time I remember it I am reminded of all the deliciously sinister plans I've made for it. This is longer than a drabble, because a continuation for Dragged Away requires it. I'll add a keep reading later. Enjoy liccy ya sly funky artist you. 💕

89) “Why hasn’t anyone looked for me yet?” “Because they don’t care about you like I do.”

-o-o-o-o-

Hyrule doesn't know how long he stays like that. Laying there. Pathetically. Curled up as much as the chan and shackle will allow, wallowing in his fear and misery. Shivering the in cold of the cell.

He hoped not for too long, but his frightened mind doesn't look always allow him to keep perfect track of time. Eventually, he does manage to remember that his brain is connected to a body. With a deep breath that's come from years of practice, he calms his heart down and forced his legs to move.

He's vulnerable laying down like this. He needs to not be so vulnerable.

He breathes. And breathes. Connecting strings in his mind that he hasn't thought he needed anymore. He thought he was done with all this blood sacrificing nonsense. Last time it was horrifying, but he survived it. He lived. Shoved it under the rug like the trauma was nothing more than dust and tried to move on.

And he's back to this again.

He cannot be vulnerable. He has to be calm. It doesn't bother him.

He's not scared at all.

He eventually finds himself sitting on his hind end, knees drawn up slightly. He wishes he could stand up, but the clinking of his short chain reminds him of how easily he was defeated last time he was standing was much as the chain allowed. It will do him nothing to stand up, haunched over like some whethered old laborer. At least, from sitting in this position, he can kick.

Shivers wrack his frame and he glares down at the stone floor below him. Six days. Six days and whatever this blood moon is will come and they will use his blood to bring back Calamity Ganon. A monster... alike to Hyrule's own version of Ganon. Hyrule doesn't want to be the cause of any version of Ganon returning to life. He'd much rather die, in fact.

And it's just... It's shitty that dying is the issue here!

He sits there, ignoring the hardness of the ground on his tailbone, and hopes the others are coming.

And quickly.

-o-o-o-o-

Hours must pass.

He's not sure, especially since the only contact to the outside world he has from his little radius in the middle of the floor is the bars in the prison cell door. But they don't lead outside. All he can see from here is brick, sandstone wall and the flickering of a torch. There's no window here. No sunlight. No way to be sure.

But, regardless, hours must pass before something changes.

It's when he's finally been forced to shift so he's cross legged on the ground in an attempt to relieve some pressure on his tailbone that shadows cross outside the door's window. Quickly, Hyrule untangles his legs and glares at the door as it opens with a heavy sliding of metal.

The figure that walks in is just like the rest. It's impossible to tell them apart, but maybe that's not so bad. It's impossible to tell apart normal monsters. Maybe, if these whackos all look alike, that lingering worry that they're human won't bug him so much. The soldier is carrying a tray with some sort of mush in it, and they set it down on the ground just out of Hyrule's reach before straightening and bouncing slightly on the balls of their feet.

"Well?" The monster with a human voice asks.

And Hyrule realizes that they won't bring the food any closer. Hyrule glares, tempted to argue that he's not hungry because for all he knows it could be poisoned or laced with something... But his stomach growls and he thinks that if they wanted to poison him, they could easily do so without having to drug his food. Besides, he should save his strength.

With as much dignity as he can muster, he scoots over as far as his chain will allow and uses the heel of his foot to catch onto the edge of the tray, watching the (Yuta? Yaiba? Gah whatever) solder wearily. They don't make a move to attack him when he's stretched out vulnerable like this. He quickly curls back anyways, dragging the tray with him and glaring the entire time.

"I don't have all day," the soldier says as Hyrule stares down at the mush wearily. He sighs and dips two fingers into the thick mixture, wincing slightly at the texture, and brings out a scoop. He takes a deep breath and... it's not that bad actually. The texture is just as icky as he thought, but the taste is banana. Kind of pleasant, mushy weirdness aside. Better than what he was expecting.

He quickly eats the rest of the banana mixture, licking his fingers and slowly placing the bowl back into the tray when he's all done. When the soldier tilts his head and taps his foot, Hyrule sighs and kicks the tray out so it's out of his range. The soldier beds down, picks up the tray, gives a mock solute, and then walks out of the cell with all the swagger and confidence of a rich moblin in a cave.

The cell door closes and Hyrule scoffs, curling slightly and licking between his gums and cheek to get the rest of the flavor stuck back by his molars.

Any minute now guys. A rescue soon would be great.

-o-o-o-o-

More hours pass, and Hyrule cannot for the life of him figure out how much passes exactly. He busies himself picking at the shackle, then the chain, then the plate of metal in the ground that the chain is connected to. There's no imperfections. No wiggle room. His wrist feels a little rubbed now, and the corners of the metal itches. His tailbone hates him. Sleep is tugging down his eyelids but the constant anxiety in his chest making it impossible to even flirt with the idea. He looks at the back of his hand where the Triforce should be and he wonders if it's left him without letting him know first. Not that it matters, he's always known he was unworthy. He's done more harm than good it feels in his time. He's killed Ganon but the world fell further apart anyway.

He sighs and picks at the shackle again.

-o-o-o-o-

They bring more banana mush just as hunger is beginning to tug at his stomach again. They don't talk and Hyrule doesn't talk to them. The only difference between this time and the last is that this soldier doesn't force him to lower himself by tugging on the chain like a dog to get the food. They, instead, walk right up and drop it, causing some of the mixture to splash out. Hyrule remains stubbornly silent as he eats what's left in the bowl, and instead of handing the bowl back like the solider must be expecting, he hurls the bowl past them and out the cell door.

The soldier smacks him across the head, not painfully so but in a way that shows their annoyance, before they pick up the tray and practically stalk out with steam rising from their shoulders. The door clicks shut and Hyrule tries not to let himself panic at the grumbling words he hears as they walk out.

"We'll see about him getting any food tomorrow."

-o-o-o-o-

Hyrule's bored and hungry. Enough so that he hardly even noticed that he passed out until he was blinking awake on his side. He slowly and cautiously rises so he's sitting again, wincing as his spine protests and his wrist twinges. His stomach growls and all he can do is sit there and trail his finger in the dust of the stone until something happens.

Nothing does. He's beginning to think the threat was real, and if today is a new day he won't be getting any food during it.

-o-o-o-o-

"Why hasn't anyone looked for me yet," Hyrule whispers to himself, staring at the picture he's spent quite a long time drawing out in the dust. It's all messy lines, but the face does look vaguely like Legend. He misses Legend.

"Because they don't care about you like I do," a familiar voice says. Hyrule's breath catches and he looks up with wide eyes before he can stop himself. Standing outside the window of the cell door is the same old white mask, but the voice... the voice he knows. It's the same one who came to him before and forced him to kneel while he called Hyrule pathetic and week. He'll never forget that voice.

Hyrule forces up something that feels fake but looks like courage and glares at the enemy. The man just snickers and opens the cell door, holding a tray with a bowl. Hyrule's stomach growls against his will and Hyrule's sure by the way the soldiers wiggles his shoulders ever so slightly, he's smirking under that mask.

"Hope you're hungry," he says. Then, with a cruel voice, "because I don't actually have anything."

The tray and bowl clatters to the ground and nothing splatters out. Hyrule curls his hands into fists.

"They'll come," he says, that fake-but-feels-like-courage in his voice.

The soldier scoffs and kicks the bowl to the side. "They would have by now if they cared. That damn hero knows where this place is, and our patrols haven't seen anyone yet. Perhaps they're just caught up?"

Hyrule snarls and goes to stand up, forgetting about the short chain until he's stopped short. "They'll come," he repeats, not allowing the words of the enemy to affect him. "And you care for nothing."

"Oh, but I do care for you, you little mouse," the soldier says, folding his arms. "You're useful to me. But to them? You've just proven yourself that you can't protect yourself long enough to not get captured from cult fanatics. They don't care about you. I'm the only one who will be caring about you until the Blood Moon rises once again and our master returns."

"It's not real. My blood won't being anything back," Hyrule bluffs, hoping it's convincing. "Whoever told you are lying."

"Eh, either way, in four days you'll be dead," the soldier says, shrugging. "So it doesn't really matter, am I right?"

Hyrule doesn't indulge him with an answer.

"My point exactly. Now," he claps his hands together, "look, as much as you think we're cruel, we actually want to make sure you're not half dead already from starvation and thirst when your heroic sacrifice comes around. We gotta make sure you're blood will be nice and healthy when we spill it, so you gotta work with us kid."

Hyrule feels something in his face twitch. Anger curling in his gut right next to the anxiety.

"We can get some steak in here even, if ya want, all you gotta do is apologise."

"For what," Hyrule grinds out.

"For throwing the bowl, silly!"

"Fuck you."

Perhaps the bravest and stupidest thing Hyrule's said in the past two days—Hylia, has it really been 48 hours?

But for all his (fake) bravery, the soldier just shrugs. "Alright, we'll talk tomorrow."

He then turns away and walks out the cell, leaving Hyrule to slowly sit back down and lower his head into his hands. Alone to do nothing but ignore his pulsing tailbone and smarting wrist.

Alone to sit and fight off terrified tears.

[ourloveisforthelovely]

In the Light 3

Harry Potter 

Characters: Sirius Black x Reader 

Link to Chapter 2 

Rating: Explicit- smut

_________

“Sirius, can you slow down!”

You squealed as he practically dragged you from the kitchen into the living room. Sirius finally let you go before running a hand through his hair.

“Snape asked you to marry him?”

You sighed. This was not how you wanted this conversation to go! In fact, you didn’t plan on telling Sirius about this at all! You knew his hot temper and this was going to be furious!

“Sirius, I said no because I am married to you! You can’t be double married! Even in our world that isn’t right!”

Sirius started laughing. You stepped back, feeling a little uncomfortable.

“Love, maybe you should breathe?”

Sirius’ hands were trembling and you were waiting for him to punch a hole in the wall.

“So you love him too? You love the one man that I hate more than Peter-fucking-Pettigrew!”

You shook your head. Where the hell was this coming from? You didn’t love Snape! In fact, you never wanted anything to do with Snape after finding out that he was a death eater.

“No! I don’t love him! I love you!”

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“Right. I asked you when we were making love if there was someone else and you lied to me. Apparently, you have changed a lot in the past years.”

Now you were mad! Mad was putting it lightly! That comment that came out of his mouth made you want to strangle the man!

“Sirius Orion Black you stop this right now! I haven’t changed at all! If I didn’t love you, I would have never spent almost every day of these past 15 years crying because no one would listen to me about you being innocent! Maybe it's you that's changed!”

You turned and stormed from the room without another word. Walking into the dining room, Remus looked up from a book that he was reading.

“That didn’t sound so good.”

You ran a hand through your hair before beginning to pace.

“Level with me here, Remus. Have I done anything to make myself an unfaithful wife in the last years?”

Remus leaned back in his chair.

“Actually it's quite the opposite. You have been nothing more than faithful to him.”

You pointed to the living room.

“Go talk to grumpy in there!”

Remus stood up. He patted your shoulder before turning and walking into the living room. Sirius stood looking out the window angrily.

“Do you think that you handled that appropriately?”

Sirius didn’t turn around. He was fuming. Hearing those words was enough to make Sirius want to become a murderer! Apparently, you had missed the whole “I was sitting in prison wondering what my wife was doing” speech.

“What does it matter?”

Remus sighed.

“It matters 100%. Sirius, Y/n has gone through hell without you. She lost her husband, almost lost her job as an Auror, lost her brother, best friend, nephew….everything she held dear to her. You didn’t see the way that people stared at her when she walked down the street or whispered about her. Y/n has gone through hell these past 15 years. Snape didn’t help any! You need to fix this! Sirius, you have been in love with her since you were a child. Do you really want to lose that?”

Sirius turned. His grey eyes focused on Remus. The expression on his face alone told Remus that he had gotten through all of the stubborn. Sirius ran a hand through his hair again.

“She’s really gone through hell, huh?”

Remus nodded.

Y/n is a proud lady but yes...she has gone through hell. FYI, she wants nothing to do with Snape.”

Sirius shook his head.

“He made a comment that pushed me over the edge. The git made a comment about how I wouldn’t be able to properly provide for her...how I wouldn’t be a good father if…”

Remus frowned. He really didn’t want to have that conversation again. The last time that Sirius talked about you not being able to be pregnant, he was drunk off of his ass. It took both Remus and James to get their very drunk best friend home.

“Sirius, Y/n can’t….”

Sirius held up a hand.

“I KNOW! That really wasn’t my point. Snape essentially said that I won’t be able to take care of my own wife.”

Remus took a breath.

“Sirius, Y/n has high hopes for everything to work out.”

Sirius snorted.

“Yeah, she has high hopes for her big loser!”

Remus calmly rolled his eyes. This was obviously going to be a long difficult conversation!

“Sirius, you know that isn’t true. You are a good person who bad things have happened to. Y/n and yourself have a chance to start over. The two of you are able to take care of Harry and provide a life he hasn’t had. Don’t spoil it over things that Severus Snape says.”

Sirius looked down at his feet before meeting his friend’s face.

“I better go talk to Y/n.”

Meanwhile…

You walked upstairs trying to find a way to calm down. Maybe it was best to let Sirius calm down and when he was rational try the whole reasoning thing again.

“Filthy blood traitors are still contaminating my poor mistress' house.”

You sighed and turned to see Kreacher sneaking around in the corner.

“Is that necessary?”

You snapped. Kreacher looked up at you with his usual sneering face.

“Filthy whore.”

“Shut up, Kreacher!”

You spun around to see Sirius in the doorway. He glared at the house-elf as the being left the room still muttering about Sirius being a blood traitor among other things. You shook your head wanting nothing to do with the vile elf.

“Ignore him.”

Sirius said softly.

“He never liked me very much...not surprising though.”

When you didn’t respond, Sirius sighed. He knew that look very well! Anytime he fucked up that was the look that he received.

“Ah, I see that you aren’t talking to me. I know that look well.”

You turned and walked back into the bedroom not saying anything. The bedroom door closing told you exactly what you expected. Sirius was not going to let this go.

When his hands wrapped around your waist in that all too familiar fashion it took all that you had to not turn around and turn into a blubbering mess. This whole experience was turning you into a total Mary Sue. Oh well. You thought.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. I’m just so angry over how our lives have turned out. Listening to Snape talk about me not being really able to care for you the way that I should kind of made me see red.”

You stood motionless for a moment before turning in Sirius’ arms.

“This is where you go hex him and tell him to shut the fuck up. Sirius, once we get a hold of Pettigrew you won’t have to hide anymore. You can pick up your male pride and start where we were years ago.”

Sirius didn’t say anything for a moment.

“Male pride?”

You smiled before reaching into your pocket.

“I found something that you may want back.”

You slid his wedding ring back onto his finger. Sirius smiled down at his hand.

“Since the day you put it on my hand for the first time.”

He leaned down pressing his lips to yours. You sighed against his lips before twirling your fingers in his hair.

“Are you trying to come onto me? Maybe a makeup for that little spat downstairs?”

Sirius gave you an eyebrow wiggle before quickly spinning you around. His right hand reached up your skirt and squeezed your thigh.

“I bet if I go a little further north I will find out and you want it as much as I do.”

“I think that you may be right. We are going to have to get a grip on ourselves soon. We can’t just start snogging in front of Harry. I don’t want to give him a complex.”

Sirius laughed.

“There are plenty of places in this house to hide for a quickie. Besides last night was more like a quickie than taking our time...and catching up.”

“We made love until 3 am.”

You giggled as Sirius started working the rest of your dress off. He would have preferred to just rip the thing off of you but it looked expensive. Sirius had to fight back a moan the moment that your lingerie came into his view. You fought back a moan as his hands cupped your breasts greedily.

“You have a choice. Do you want me inside of you or my face between your legs for the next hour?”

“I….I…”

Sirius chuckled against your neck before sliding a hand into your knickers.

“Come on love, I need an answer. Are you getting shy on me now? Remember the time I did this to you in potions that time? I thought you were going to scream in class.”

You pressed your head back against his shoulder.

“You were such a tease. You’re still a tease.”

“A little late to change now.”

He said before tugging hard enough on the lace fabric to make your knickers to go to shreds.

“I rather liked those.”

You said as Sirius gently bent you over the desk.

“I can buy you another pair.”

Sirius said slowly undoing his pants and kicking them away from the two of you.

“I think I would rather be inside of you.”

Sirius said in that deep voice that made all of your nerves stand on edge. He took a deep breath before pushing in. You closed your eyes while silently putting a silencing charm on the room. The last thing that you wanted was for anyone in the house to hear the noise that was about to come out of that room! It would be awkward having to face them. You chuckled at the thought of wishing Sirius’ mother’s portrait could hear this. The howling old hag could hear exactly what her son was made of!

...what her son is made of…

You moaned at the thought! You were being stuffed with exactly what her son was made of! The crazy old bat would go crazy if she knew what the two of you were doing in her beloved house.

Sirius pushing in a little harder made all thoughts leave your head. Your eyes rolled backward with each thrust. Your body was most definitely going to need to get used to this again!

You cried out pathetically when Sirius pulled out. Standing up straight, you quickly spun around as Sirius took off the rest of his clothes. He gave you that damned raised eyebrow that could turn you from a good girl to a bad girl in 2 seconds.

“On my lap, darling.”

He quickly lay back on the bed and gave you that steely gaze. You stood motionless a moment longer before quickly doing as you were told. Putting your legs on either side of his body, you took his length from tip to base. It was Sirius’ turn to moan.

“Naughty girl.”

You reached behind you quickly removing the bra that was still on. Sirius gave you a dark mirthful little smile before sitting up enough to get his hands on your chest. You threw your head back as Sirius’ mouth wrapped around your nipple. Between his deep thrusts and mouth nipping at your breasts; you wouldn’t last long.

“So close…”

You whimpered. Sirius quickly lay back and wrapped his hands around your waist.

“I can do something about that.”

Before you could say anything, he was slamming into you so hard and fast that you couldn’t formulate a thought. When your body clenched around his, you were pleased to hear Sirius moan.

“I’m going to come if you do that again.”

You grinned and squeezed him again. Whether it be the mixture of rough lovemaking, Sirius’ words, or the feeling of him coming hard inside of you; you came apart screaming your lover’s name.

When you could open your eyes, Sirius was looking up at you with a shit-eating grin. He quickly held his arms up to pull you down to him.

“Was that good?”

You asked, snuggling your face into his chest as Sirius lit a cigarette.

“Check your undercarriage.”

He said, inhaling as there was a knock on the door. Sirius rolled his eyes.

“This is the problem with a house full of people...no one can stay occupied. Who is it?”

Sirius yelled the last part, hoping whoever it was would run away. From the other side of the door came Remus’ voice.

“I am sorry to disturb but I thought that you should know Harry is here early.”

Sirius glanced at you and quickly put out his cigarette and started pulling on his abandoned clothes. He quickly turned and looked at you. One look told him exactly what he needed to know. You were a nervous wreck.

“Y/n, it will be okay.”

You nodded, trying to believe what he said. Sirius was across the room. He tilted your face to his.

“He will love you. It's impossible to meet you and not fall in love you.”

You could only hope that Sirius was right...

______

@brokencasbutt67-writer

@authoressskr

@fandom-trash-worth-it

@hankypranky

@summer-novak

@emiwrites3reads

@shaylybaby2032

@shitfaceddaniel

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@stuckinsaudi1

@maggiolim

@marichromatic

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts

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@knight-of-gleefulness

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

this is dom harry bro no questions he'd just sit there eating u out for hours but wouldnt let u come

“Please.”

“No.”

“Harry, please.”

“Mm-mm.”

It’s been hours. Literal hours.

Her best guess is two, but it feels more like twenty. She’s hypersensitive, and it’s not helping that he’s refusing to let her cum.

Y/N can only hold out for so long before her body takes on a mind of its own and breaks down without his or her permission, so she tries to focus her thoughts on something—anything— else. Anything but him.

Her mind wanders to how she’d ended up in this position in the first place.

How she had thought he’d come in from the airport and they’d go out for some dinner and maybe save all of the raunchiness for the later half of the evening.

But of course he couldn’t wait. He’d been waiting for three days, and now he was refusing to leave his post between her drenched thighs to make up for it.

Harry had gone to Cancun for a couple of days to shoot something top secret, leaving Y/N behind in Philly, where he was planning to come back to put some more business details in order for his next album.

When he had walked through the door of the hotel room, she almost didn’t recognize him.

He’d gotten very tan during those days in Mexico and she could tell it was natural. His nose was already starting to peel and the edges of his hairline were sun-bleached, along with a wave of honey and auburn highlights running through his usual chestnut brown curls. He was sporting crisp white shorts, a simple black button-up with the first two buttons undone, a black windbreaker, and her own pair of scuffed up white Vans that she had let him borrow.

He tended to take something of Y/N’s with him whenever he went away, even if just for a little bit. An old oversized Jurassic Park t-shirt that smelled like her, a wooden bead bracelet she got when they visited Animal Kingdom, the silver charms from one of her favorite necklaces that dote her initials, which he would loop around his cross chain. A ruby and black diamond ring he had gifted her for her birthday that fit perfectly around his pinky, her favorite pair of cactus-patterned socks— the list is endless. Point being, this time around he decided on the pair of Vans he found at the bottom of her suitcase.

Harry loves that he never had to ask to borrow her stuff; she just let him raid whatever he wanted because it truly touched her that he always wanted to have a piece of her on him.

Those pair of raggedy Vans had ended up kicked into the corner of the room beside his suitcase as he distractedly shrugged off one shoulder of his jacket, the other occupied holding his phone to his ear.

“Yeah, that’s what we planned. Mitch texted and said he was boarding his flight so he should be here by tonight, probably around ten. The latest, twelve, depending on traffic.” Harry had grabbed his phone from its spot between his ear and shoulder, switching sides to slide off the rest of the windbreaker. “Okay, so nine tomorrow morning? The room’s booked and everything? Alright, sick! I’ll text you when I’m on my way. Later.”

Harry had tapped the screen of his phone, releasing a long sigh of relief through his nose as he chucked it onto the free bed along with his jacket, running one of his large hands up his tired face and through his messy locks.

Y/N had spoken up first, voice clear even over the Sugar Rush episode playing on the TV in the background. “How was Cancun?”

Harry’s drained gaze had focused on her and somehow, just looking at her— just seeing his girlfriend laying on the disheveled bed in one of the lavish, creme-colored hotel bathrobes with rainbow fuzzy socks covering her wiggling toes and her bangs pinned back haphazardly with a clip— had inflated a certain warmth inside him that rose up from the heels of his feet to the tips of his fingers, expanding in his chest and squeezing out any stress and exhaustion milling in his veins.

He had pursed his lips into a small, lopsided smile full of tender fondness, his eyes softening and glossing over with the comfort that comes from her familiar scent of chamomile shampoo and apple lip balm. “It went great. Everyone was lovely, the filming got done quick and easy, the food was as amazing as ever, but...”

Harry had trailed over to the front of the bed, falling onto his knees and then hands, crawling across the mattress until he was hovering over her with arms propped on either side of her head and knees straddling her hips. He’d pressed a delicate kiss to the center of her forehead, leaning down to nudge her nose with his. “...I missed you.”

Y/N cocked her head back to lock eyes with her boyfriend, his smile contagious. “Well, I missed my Vans.”

Harry had broken into an amused snort, shaking his head lightly as he speckled pecks all over her face. His tone was dramatic and full of pretend anguish. “My poor heart!”

She was reduced to a giggling mess as she wrapped her arms securely around his neck, his own arms weaving their way between the bed and her lower back to keep her trapped as his mouth brushed across every tickle spot he’d learned like the back of his hand.

Harry had pulled back from his little attack, grinning ear to ear with his dimples on full display. He’d balanced himself on his elbows, fingers reaching up to tuck her unkempt hair out of her face.

They’d laid like that for a moment; Harry snuggled between her legs, irises flickering over the tiny details of her face, taking her in. The way her lips were lightly chapped, her cheeks warmer than usual, her chest heaving and neck flexing with every breath she’d gulp down. The way her eyes were bright, almost as if infused with literal starlight. The way her hands were gripping at his wrists gently and the way she kept glancing down at his mouth, inviting it to meet her’s.

“Y’know what I’ve been thinking about all fucking day?” His voice had been soft— barely above a mumble— but filled with a type of desperate conviction that she rarely saw in him.

“Mm?” Her fingers had tightened around his wrists curiously.

He’d taken in a shaky breath, letting it out slowly in such a way that it rattled his lungs. His tongue had peeked out to swipe across his bottom lip, which had then pursed with his top one in anticipation.

“Been thinking about eating you out for hours.”

Y/N’s heart had tripped a step at his confession, which had come out as a sigh of needy pleading. 

“Yeah?”

Harry had nodded his head sluggishly, leaning forward to lightly touch his lips to her Cupid’s Bow. The warmth of his words traced the outline of her mouth suggestively, sending a shiver racing down the knobs of her spine. “All fucking day, baby. Spent every second on that plane thinking about how sweet you’d taste on my tongue and how good it’d feel to have you dripping down my chin.”

One of Y/N’s hands had left its spot, opting for tracing his top lip with its fingers instead. “For hours?”

Harry had nodded almost feverishly, a small whimper stringing at the back of his throat at the sensation of the ridges of her skin passing over his. “Just been craving you a bit extra, lately. Was practically running through the airport to get here.”

She’d release small laugh in the form of a scoff, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. “I thought we’d go out to dinner first or something and save this for later, but if you really need it that bad...”

“Fuck, minx, I need it so fucking bad.”

Harry had left no time for her to think it over twice, pushing back to sit on his heels and tugging the tie of her bathrobe loose. “Jesus Christ...”

Y/N had prepared for the occasion.

In the short time he’d been away, she’d gone shopping at a mall near the hotel. She hadn’t really gone with the intent of purchasing anything, but then she ran into a specific set of lingerie that she just couldn’t pass up.

It was bright red lace, the fabric littered with glitter. It came with a bra (which had a bow over the middle of each cup and one at the center of the piece, which could be undone to remove the article from the front) and a pair of high-waisted cheeky panties with matching garters that fit perfectly mid-thigh.  

Y/N could practically see Harry’s mouth watering as he had blinked at her a few times, utterly dumbfounded, mouth slightly parted. A hue as red as her undies had crawled up his neck and spilled across his cheeks, as well as the shells of his ears and the tip of his button nose.

“I was saving it for later.” She’d murmured softly, keeping her vision trained on his face, drinking up every twitch and jolt of his expression and letting it overflow her ego. She had spread her legs, hooking them over the back of each of his knees as she sunk further into the sheets, allowing her plush robe to skim down her upper arms. “But you can tear it off now, if you want.”

And that brings her to where she is now, with her head thrown back against the mound of expensive feather pillows, fingers woven into Harry’s damp curls as she bucks against his face, his forearms draped over her outer thighs to keep her pinned down to the mattress.

“Fucking hell, Har, please just let me cum.”

When he said for hours, she thought he’d meant it hyperbolically.

“Stay still.” His voice is low and raspy, thick with lust and drunk on her taste.

She thought it would’ve been maybe twenty minutes— forty, tops— but those minutes had turned to an hour, and that hour into two. The first hour he’d spent biting into her inner thighs and tonguing her over the lace panties, only removing them after they were embarrassingly drenched (and with his teeth, of course). The last hour had been him nose-deep between her thighs, fingers working into her thoroughly as he lapped at her folds like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

“God, you’re so fucking wet.” Harry pulls back a bit, lips, dimples, and the point of his nose gleaming with her excitement. He messily drags his knuckles up her pulsing clit, trying to clean her up a bit so he can get in further without feeling suffocated.

The milky liquid coats the back of his hand generously, dripping down onto his fingers and smearing across the soaked sheets. He glimpses down at it, instinctively bringing it up to his mouth and licking every drop off his knuckles. His tongue passes over his skin and between his fingers, eyes flickering upwards to lock onto her’s. His irises glitter with a form of self-satisfied snarkiness, glittering with different tones of green, light blue, and crystal amber in the deeper crevices.

Harry pushes his first two digits entirely past his lips, lids fluttering shut as he inhales a quaking sigh through his nose, humming a moan in the back of his throat. His words are muffled over his full mouth, but passable nonetheless. “Shit, you taste so bloody sweet.”

Her whole body caves upwards, thighs clenching and heels digging into the bed. Her voice is broken and whiney. “Wanna cum so bad.”

“I know y’do, darling. I know.” He pulls out with a wet pop, licking over his swollen lips and glistening chin. “But I’m just having too much fun. Just a little longer, I promise.”

Harry’s large hands cup over her quivering outer thighs, yanking her back towards his face. He picks up again with tiny puppy licks across the sensitive bud at the center of her folds, hips absentmindedly grinding into the bed to ease the radiating ache itching the underside of his balls.

Y/N tugs harder at his sun-kissed curls, feeling him hiss against her— the vibrations cause her knees to twitch. “I c-can’t hold off anymore...”

The pads of his digits bruise her skin. “Y’can— know y’can. If you want me to fuck you tonight, you better.”  

Harry flattens his tongue out across the thickest part of her crotch, turning his face slowly from side to side as his fingers gently curl inside her, brushing against her tightening walls and resulting in a shattered whimper straining her throat. “That’s a good girl, hm? Love the sounds you make for me— they’re so fucking pretty. Love the way I make you squeal.”

Y/N’s words choke out in sputters, interrupted by abrupt breaths she can’t help but inhale. “Feels—so good— fuck—!”

“Such a darling little thing, aren’t you?” Harry looks up at her from underneath his thick lashes and cockily furrowed brows, the edges of his lips peeking up in a smug simper from between her legs. “Bought yourself something nice for me to fuck you in and thought you could go prancing around in it all night without me knowing until we got back.”

“Wanted it to be a s-surprise.”

“Yeah? Well, I’ve got a surprise for you, too.”

Harry backs away from her slightly with a final rough lick, removing his fingers from inside her and sloppily wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. He reaches over her left hip, hooking the ruined panties with his index finger and holding them up above her abdomen for her to see. A certain mischievous glossiness washes across his darkened eyes.

“You’re going to put these back on and spend the entire night in them. Want you sitting at dinner in the mess you made, thinking about how hard I’m gonna pound you when we get back.”

[shualogy]

in the city of angels | joshua

⟹genre: angst? maybe a little bit of fluff? mostly angst? 

⟹pairing: joshua x female y/n

⟹warnings: cheating, guilt, mentions of non explicit sexy times, mentions of alcohol

⟹word count: 1.7k

⟹summary: Joshua moves to Korea but you try to make it work.

⇒ author’s note: this imagine is heavily based off of la la lost you by niki (the acoustic version>>>>>) the lyrics are italicized and in brackets and I highly recommend listening to the song while reading to make it hurt more,, just want to say who HURT me ,, anyways I hope you enjoy

[While I’m on sunset are you on the subway?] 

You breathe in the salty ocean air and release it through a sigh. Wiggling your toes in the sand, you lean forward to hug your knees. The sea breeze gives you a chill and you pull your jacket tighter around your body. 

You wonder what time it is over there, if he’s heading to practice or a concert or some other scheduled event right about now. Snapshots of you and Joshua flash every time you close your eyes. The time you went stargazing together during the summer and talked for hours. The hot summer days you spent marathoning anime in his bedroom and the popcorn fights that would lead into sweet kisses and giggles. The times where he would practice playing the guitar, humming random melodies while you read a book and glanced at him every so often. The days of sneaking around and stealing quick kisses in empty supermarket aisles or at empty bus stops. The evenings of dancing in your kitchen while baking cookies or trying to teach him how to cook which ended with burnt pots and pans and empty take out containers piled in the trash. The nights of scary movies that turned into cuddles and pillow talks. The day he was scouted. The day he left. 

[You would know if you stayed

You would know if you put up a fight]

You promised each other to call everyday. You would send him letters and videos when he was too busy to call. “Y/N look at this dog I found!” or “I saw this today and it made me think of you” texts would wake you up. Good mornings, I love you, I miss you voice messages tasted bittersweet leaving your mouth. Your mornings were his nights, his nights were your mornings. You would spend your early mornings trying to help his mind calm down from the fears that kept him awake and he would spend his early mornings wishing luck and encouragements for you. 

However, life inevitably caught up to the both of you. With you starting school and his training becoming harder, calls became less frequent. Soon the only texts that were exchanged were a curt “goodnight, love you.” Both of you fell into an uncomfortable silence. It was nothing like the silence you would fall into when you would be laying in his lap and he would be playing with your hair. It was a deafening roar of a love that had begun to burn out.

With a break from his training coming up, you promised to call him. You look at the time, making sure it was early enough for him not to be in practice nor too late to keep him up at night. You opened up your laptop, nervous but excited as the skype tones rang.

“Y/N? What’s up? Did you need something?” He looked terrible. His eyes looked like he hadn’t slept in days. 

“No I was just calling you like I promised to since you’re on a break. So how’s training been, have you had good food lately? I read this book the other day and I can’t wait to tell you about it and-”

“That sounds really good babe but I’m kind of in the middle of practice.” 

You paused. “I thought you were on a break?” 

He sighed, and ran his hand through his sweaty hair. “I was supposed to be but evaluations are coming up and I need to work on this one choreography.”

A little hurt that he forgot, you bit your lip then said, “Oh I can just call you when you’re done with practice if that’s ok-”

“I don’t know what time I’ll be done, it might be late for you.” He cut you off. 

“I can stay up, I don’t mind. Is everything okay?” You could hear the bass of muffled music in the background. You could hear yelling and every so often Joshua would wince at the loud sounds.

“Joshua? You can tell me anything, we’re in this together remem-“

“Of course nothing is okay!” He explodes. He runs both of his hands through his hair, resting on them as angry tears gathered in his eyes.

“We aren’t in this together anymore! I’m the one who moved across the globe to become a trainee in a group that I don’t even know will work out! I’m tired and exhausted and God, Y/N I knew this was going to be hard but I didn’t think it would be this hard.” 

As the screen became blurred with the tears in your eyes, you ask with the smallest voice, “Joshua what are you saying?” 

“I’m saying I can’t do this anymore.” 

[Your toes turn blue in winter, I'm gettin' red, rum]

Weeks pass and suddenly it’s winter. It’s been awhile since you’ve talked to Joshua, both of you deciding you need a break from each other indefinitely. Your friends drag you out to a house party, saying it’ll be good for you to get out of the house. You head over to the kitchen with your friends to grab a drink. Someone hands you a red cup with god knows what and you throw your head back as the drink burns  as it goes down. The warmth quickly spreads through your body, beginning with your chest. Satisfied, you head outside to get some fresh air. 

Over in Korea, the snow has piled up and the temperature is at a record breaking low. Joshua exhales, pulling his scarf tighter around him as his breath forms a cloud. He sees some lights across the river and thinks, Oh I should take a picture for Y/N, she would love this. But then he remembers. Then he regrets.

[I’m missin' our drunken 2 A.M. strolls in K-Town]

“Joshua shhhhh we’re gonna get caught!” You giggled as you tugged your boyfriend’s arm out your back door. He stumbles out the door and laughs. With a smile, he plants a kiss on your lips.

Somehow, the two of you ended up wandering the streets of Korea town. Warm with the alcohol in your system and with the warmth of your boyfriend, the universe seemed to fall into place.

You shake your head. No, that’s the past. It’s a chilly night out and you curse yourself for not bringing a jacket. Shivering, you let out a deep sigh and ignore the heat in your cheeks as tears being to well up in your eyes.

“Hey you seem cold, you can borrow my jacket if you like?” You turn and meet eyes with someone new. 

[And fuckin' on Brooklyns in Brooklyn Your Chelseas in Chelsea Hope that eases the pain, so you remember to miss me]

Tired of training, tired of working, tired of everything, Joshua heads out to a party being thrown by someone’s friend’s brother. He didn’t know who but he didn’t care.

Joshua knows this is wrong. He knows he could get in so much trouble for this. But in the moment, with her lips on his and his hands on her hips, it doesn’t matter to him. He ignores the nagging voice in his head that tells him he could get caught. He ignores how her hands aren’t like yours and how his body doesn’t fit with hers like a puzzle piece. He ignores that she doesn’t kiss him the way you did. For now he just needed something, someone to get you out of his mind. 

[And you sold your car, now you walk for miles Bet your feet feel numb] 

Joshua wakes up the next morning with a headache and his heart still empty. He sits up in bed, replaying the events of last night. His mouth tastes sour but not from the alcohol. Sighing and ignoring the gnawing feeling at his chest, he chugs a glass of water and gets ready for the day. The dorm is almost empty, save for a few members still milling about. He decides to head out early for practice to give him some time and space with his thoughts. He takes the long way, walking through parks and neighborhoods to try to get the guilt out of his system. 

[All my demons run wild All my demons have your smile In the city of angels, in the city of angels]

As nice as it sounded to go home with the stranger you met at the party, you and Joshua haven’t officially broken up yet. But then you start to see the stranger everywhere. At school, at work, and you begin to wonder if you’re being tempted, if the universe is saying it’s time to move on. He makes you laugh, smile, all of these things you’ve been missing in your life. However, you still remember Joshua. Your Joshua. You remember the way his lips turned up at the corners and how you could tell when he wanted to kiss you. And he would. Over and over again. You decide to go for a walk to clear your mind. You pass by the streets you used to walk with Joshua and wonder when they began to change. 

[Hope it holds you like I do While my demons stay faithful In the city of angels]

“Shua-hyung, is everything okay? You’ve been off lately.” Chan asks as they stretch before dance warm ups. Seungkwan elbows the younger who is oblivious to Joshua’s situation. 

“Everything is fine” Joshua assures him. Everything is in fact, not fine. Guilt threatens to swallow him whole but he pushes it aside. He came to Korea to train and become an idol. He’s realizing how selfish he’s been, and how selfish he has to be if he wants to make this work. Although the lump in his throat stays, he bottles all the other feelings down. He knows what he has to do. And he hates himself for it.

[Pretty little white lies got me good Thought this was love, I was misunderstood]

You pick up your phone and to your surprise, it’s Joshua. 

“Hello?”

“Y/N, hey it’s been awhile.”

You bite your lip wondering if he’s finally decided what future of two of you looked like.

“What’s up Joshua?” 

“Y/N, I have to tell you something.” 

__________________________________________

[If I'm honest, I'd call, but I'm trying to let go]

You’re devastated when you get your exam score back. You could have sworn you studied everything the professor gave you but still, you failed. That’s how school has been lately. College has become a new type of hard and you aren’t used to failing so often. Tears blur your eyes as you cry in frustration about your grades. You pick up your phone, knowing exactly who can comfort you, who knows what to say. But you never press call. 

[And I hope you're happy, livin' life in taxis But you'll always have me, you'll always have me]

“Y/N, I have something to tell you.” Sighing, Joshua tells you about that winter night. You can hear the regret in his voice.

You’re angry and hurt but also realize that you’ve grown so far apart. You’re relieved and heartbroken but maybe it’s for the best. Your words don’t meet his ears and his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s been like this for far too long. You’re tired. He’s tired. 

“Maybe it’s best if we don’t talk anymore Josh,” you said in between hiccups. You swallow the lump in your throat and ignore the the bone crushing feeling in your chest. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry, I truly am. Thank you for the love and memories. I wish you the best, Y/N.”

“Goodbye Joshua.”

If you thought about it hard enough, your fingertips could feel the fuzz of his cheek. If he thought about it hard enough, he could smell your shampoo and feel the pads of your fingertips against his cheek. However, you couldn’t reach each other.

__________________________________________

[And I hope you're happy, livin' life in taxis But you'll always have me] 

It’s been 5 years since you last talked to Joshua. After some time, you began to date again but no one quite made you feel the swelling in your chest that you longed for. It’s okay though, you’ve become content with the life you’ve made for yourself. You heard Joshua debuted in a group called seventeen and as much as it hurt, you couldn’t help but smile and be happy for him. You’d still feel a pang in your chest everytime someone mentioned him. You wish things didn’t turn out this way.

You look back over the water and watch as the sun kisses the ocean goodbye. You get up, deciding it’s time to go home. You wipe as much of the sand as you can off of you. After taking one last glance of the fading sun, you take a deep breath and turn around to walk back to your car. 

“Y/N?” 

“Joshua?” 

Your heart begins to swell.

[you'll always have me]

[saundraswriting]

Need Some TLC Chapter 7: Sick at Bucky’s

SUMMARY:You make you way home after the longest week in a long time. You more tired then you every have been coupled with the beginning of the flu. You decide to take the Captain and Sargent up on their offer. They force you to res

WARNING: None

You pursed your lips and eyed the red key with hesitation. You did promise to use the key if you needed to sleep after a rough stint at the hospital. You were tired-beyond tired-and not feeling well. You wanted to use the key, you knew that you were in no shape to care for yourself. You were dizzy and cotton mouthed. You could feel yourself swaying as you blinked. Your heart was racing and you knew you were dehydrated. This was definitely time to use the key, even if they weren't there F.R.I.D.A.Y would be able to monitor you for them.

'Maybe they only offered out of politeness and responsibility. They only see you as an obligation. Captain America would surely offer his apartment out of neighborly obligation. Maybe they don't like me anyway.' Your thoughts grew more and more depressing and anxious, your sleep deprivation getting to you. While you debated on taking the two men up on their proposition your feet chose to make the decision for you. You stopped outside their door and fingered the key. 'Fuck it! They won't mind. I certainly don't. Maybe they will even be here to keep me company.' With that thought you inserted the key and turned. You hadn't seen Bucky before work in a day or two, you vaguely remembered him mentioning needing to be in the compound. You took a deep breath and slouched against the door using your body weight to push it open.

You stepped in quietly closed the door hoping to be unobtrusive. You pulled your bags off and sat them on the floor, keeping the strap in your hand. You looked up to scan the apartment, once and then twice before you recognized the crowd of people in the living room. You squinted and looked at the key in you hand and back to the room. Your eyes were having trouble focusing. You finally locked on to blue eyes staring at you in obvious concern. Bucky was sitting on a couch by himself.

"I'm sorry." You said to the room. "Sargent Barnes and Captain Rogers told me to come over if I ever needed to. I have worked a lot lately." You yawned deeply and swayed. You were struggling to stay on your feet after a 20 hour day. You were slowly losing your ability to stay awake but you couched down to gather your bags. The migraine you had shoved away was coming back with a vengeance. "I can go? I don't want to interrupt." Bucky interrupted before you could make to leave.

"Y/N, c'mon. Lay down. You need to sleep. You are always welcome here. Now let go of the bag and come here." Bucky patted the couch next to him. You did as he said letting the bags slouch against each other on the floor. Steve and the others watched with thinly veiled interest. Most didn't know who you were let alone why you had a key or why Bucky was being so soft and dotting. You stumbled over to Bucky like a drunkard, not able to focus. Steve was glad he cleared a path for you. You sat on the couch with a groan and with Bucky's encouragement and help laid down. Almost instantly you were settling. Bucky smiled and pulled off your shoes and socks and emptied your pockets. He reached up and gently took your ponytail out. He tucked a pillow behind your head and wrapped you in a blanket. You sighed deeply and gave a  final wiggle to get comfortable.

"You okay, sweetheart? I have been worried." Bucky said as he tucked you in.

"Fine. Just want to stop. Tired. People just need to do their job." You spoke with forced enunciation, a choppiness to your words. "I am cold and nauseous and achy." You slurred. The sensation of being taken care of, of safety and closeness helping ease your tense muscles and tired brain into drowsiness.

"I know, darling. A good rest will help put you to rights." He began rubbing your feet where they rested in his lap. You peered up at him with suspicion.

"You are doing this on purpose. I should stay up. Keep my schedule. Somewhat." You told him. He glared at you with a twinge of heat. "Or, I can just lay here and take a nap." Bucky nodded and rewarded you with a smile. "Fine don't let me sleep too long. You have company." You ordered. He nodded but the twinkle in his eye told you that your next few days would be spent in his care getting better.

"Sure thing, sweetheart. I will wake you in a few hours." Bucky murmured in your ear, adjusting the pillow and blanket. With that you fell asleep between one breath and the next.

Bucky watched you for a few minutes. He instinctively counted your rapid, shallow breaths and fast, hard  heartbeats. Your face was pale and blotchy, a grey tint at the very edges of your skin. Bucky felt his concern and worry grow in his chest.

"Steve, do we have a thermometer?" Bucky asked smoothing a hair from your face. It was greasy and he could feel the dry shampoo build up in your roots.

"Want us to leave the room?" Clint teased. "We can leave if you want." Bucky knew even though he was joking, Clint and the others would leave if asked.

"Stop. She is sick and tired. She came here for comfort. I am trying to reteach her affection and friendship. She doesn't have anyone-by circumstance or choice I do not know. I want to be there for her. Like she is for me. Us." Bucky said.

"Bucky, even I can tell from here, she has a fever. You want me to call Bruce?" Steve asked. He handed over the thermometer, telling Bucky to just scan your forehead.

"Bruce isn't that kind of doctor he continually tells us. She is actually a healthcare professional." Bucky took your temperature and winced at the number. "101.3. The is a little high. She should stay here this weekend."

"Agreed. But we both knew she was staying even before the fever. But let's get to lunch and games. She'll sleep like the dead." Steve's lack of concern in his weekend being crashed confused the others but they said nothing.

The group began bickering over what to do for lunch and which game to play. Eventually they decided on pizza and Trivial Pursuit. While they ate and played, Bucky split his attention between his friends and you. He didn't want to keep you on the couch for too long. He was also thinking of ways to get you fever down and rehydrate you. A loud bout of laughter rang through the apartment, Natasha glowering at Sam and Clint. The sudden noise broke through your sleep causing you to stir and whine softly.

"Hush, darling." Bucky murmured in your ear. You settled at the sound of his voice. Clint looked on with warmth in his gaze. He was always a sucker for people in need. His apartment buildings were always full of people trying to get back on their feet for something.

"Wake her in two hours. That will give her one full R.E.M cycle. Give her some regular water or Gatorade and some soup broth to help rehydrate her. Give her some Tylenol to get the fever down at first then bed. Then tomorrow push fluids and good food. She should be better in no time." Clint told Bucky as the pizza arrived and everyone scrambled for some like vultures. Bucky nodded and thanked Clint as he stroked your hair or rubbed a thumb on your ankle while your feet rested in his lap.

"Okay. I know she has been neglecting herself. She baseline is dehydrated, overworked, sleep deprived, and malnourished. I have a lot to fix. She doesn't even seem to understand that she can rely on people or that she deserves  basic things. I know that she has some mental health problems-who doesn't-but I want her to know that working through them like this isn't healthy. I want her to know she can rely on us. on me. to help." Bucky told Clint. Bucky felt better with instructions. He made a mental note to research modern medicine to better help anyone in the future. The relief settled him so he could play games and enjoy his friends.

The predetermined two hours was just about up, Bucky was thinking on how to wake you up when your phone began vibrating. The caller ID screen read Work. The vibrating made you stir but Bucky snatched it off the table before you awoke and answered it. The team instantly was silent.

"Hello?" Bucky was hesitant, he didn't want to invade your privacy and he didn't want to wake you just yet either.

"Hello. I'm sorry? I was trying to reach Y/N? I am Diane from Mercy Hospital General Care Ward." The woman on the other end of the call was polite but confused.

"This is her phone. She is unavailable. Can I take a message?" Bucky sounded calm but his right hand was clenched tightly and his eyebrows dipped together in a frown.

"I know that today is her first day off in sometime but I needed to ask her-" Bucky didn't let her finish before he rejected her statement.

"Absolutely not." Bucky's voice was as sharp as flint.

"Pardon me?" Diane's voice rose in pitch.

"Y/N has just gotten off of 4 16 hour shifts and 2 20 hour shifts. Just this week. She is ill and tired. I am sorry to disappoint you but she will continue to be unavailable until Tuesday as scheduled." Bucky was firm and just shy of rude, he was not giving on this issue even a millimeter.

"Very well. Thank you for your help. I hope she feels better. Good day." Diane hung up not waiting for Bucky's response. Bucky placed the phone back on the table trying not to move you too much.

"Good job, Bucky!" Steve grinned at his friend. Everyone looked on bewildered.

"Bucky, that maybe was a little too far? She should've made that decision herself?" Pietro asked.

"No, she would've forced herself to go in. The state she is in would do more harm then good. She knows they need her but she also knows they need her healthy. I took away the guilt of saying no from her." Bucky defended himself.

"Also me going in with a little bug can lead to huge problems, even if I am careful. Who was it on the phone? Everyone knew I was unreachable until Tuesday, unless it was an emergency." You cut into the conversation with a yawn.

"Y/N! I am sorry did we wake you?" Steve leaned over the back of the couch by Bucky's shoulder.

"No. I heard you talking but I was freaking out about oversleeping and next thing I know, I am awake. Sort of." You said while stretching. "Claudia was definitely right."

""Claudia?" Steve repeated.

"A night nurse, I knew. She told me that sometimes it is good to sleep with people near. Humans are social creatures when sleeping too. Helps the brain relax." You explained to Steve before turning to Bucky. "You didn't answer my question."

"Diane."

"Man, fuck Diane. I hate her. Thank you for telling her no for me." You smiled at Bucky, who smiled back feeling relief. "What was my temp?" You asked seeing the thermometer on the coffee table.

"101.3." Steve said. He and the others watched as you blinked blearily around the room.

"Temporal? Then it is probably 102 even 103. I have a high grade fever. I will need to push fluids." You pushed up to a sitting position, throwing a hand out to ride out the dizziness.

"Your iron is low. You are anemic." A man with short dirty blonde hair said.

"Huh?" You blinked at him. "Oh, yeah. But not from being sick. I haven't been eating well." You narrowed your eyes at the man who you were speaking to, then widened them in recognition. "Sargent Barnes...I know we discussed me trading baked good for name-dropping bragging rights but I think it will have to wait." You said.

Bucky laughed and helped you sit up. "They aren't here for your baked goods today. They are here for Team-Bonding. Anyway sweetie, lets get you some fluids and food and meds. Then you can go to bed in my room. Bucky took your elbow in hand and helped you stand up and guided you towards the kitchen.

"'Bucky, it's nothing to make a fuss about. I am fine. Let me go home, please I have chores to do." You halfheartedly pulled at you arm.

"Y/N, I don't think so. Come on, food, water, meds, sleep, hun. In that that order. I will even loan you my shirt to sleep in." Bucky's grip didn't slacken at your tugging. You looked between the kitchen and his front door before the words registered.

"The red one?" You asked quietly like it was a secret. "It is my favorite."

"If you want. You can have anything you want." Bucky kept the thrill he felt when you admitted to having a favorite shirt of his. Bucky wanted to repeat his demands but knew that you knew them.

You felt like shit and having someone to dote on you wouldn't be unwanted. You knew from past experience that being sick was terrible but being sick and alone was unbearable.

"Fine. I will eat and take meds then I will go home. I am not interrupting your Team-Bonding any more than I already have." You tell Bucky. You peek at his teammates-who some you recognize and some you don't-you were trying to look like they weren't just watching the two of you. Bucky nodded at you with an overly innocent look.

"Yes, My dear. Whatever you say." You flinched at his words and Bucky looed at you with a question in his eyes as he helped you sit down in the kitchen island.

You sat down ungracefully still groggy and wibbly. You placed you head on crossed arms but kept your eyes on Bucky. "Don't call me that. That is what my dad called my mom when they would fight." You mumbled.

"Okay, baby-girl, okay." Bucky pulled out a bowl and served you some soup he'd been simmering for a while. You stayed slumped in your chair patiently, zoning out, listening to Bucky puttering around the kitchen and the others playing their game. Bucky glanced over to you and saw your glazed over eyes and pale skin and purple smudges under your eyes. He felt his heart clench at your appearance. Bucky brought over the bowl, pressing featherlight kiss to your hair. "Here's some soup. Full disclosure? This is yours, from when Steve's nightmares started acting up last month? I froze it and thawed it out to eat today." You huffed a laugh and leaned your weight into Bucky's chest for a second before pulling away to eat. Bucky sat down next to you. Tylenol and water found their home next to the bowl of soup. You began to dig in, slowly. Bucky sat with you for a bit.

"Good idea to freeze it. I need to make some stuff. Especially if I am going to use it as bribery to meet everyone. Sargent Barnes? Go on and play. You did your job. I will eat drink and be miserable right here, then I shall steal your clothes and bed. You'll never get rid off me then." You tried to get him to go to his teammates, guilt flooding you for taking him away from his team.

Bucky only grinned at you, dimples showing, eyes lighting up. "That is kinda the plan, doll. Minus the be miserable part." Bucky ruffled your hair affectionately.

"Cause I'm your girl?" You said teasingly. But you could hear the insecurity behind it and knew he could too.

"Yep. My girl. My best girl." Bucky said without hesitation. You beamed at him, reassured for now. you nudged him with you elbow. "Go on, play your games. I think, though, Trivial Pursuit is an unfair advantage for the others considering you were locked away like a pint of Ben and Jerry's for 70 years."

Bucky tuned in time to see everyone direct their gaze from the two of you. He sighed but said nothing, knowing the behavior was born from concern for him and curiosity about you. Not just anyone had a key to their apartment or free rein over it either. Bucky turned to see you went back to eating. He sat down to go back to the game. "Okay, we got at max 45 minutes until she is out again. I gave her nighttime cold medication instead of regular Tylenol." Steve clapped in friend on the back in support. They would apologize when you woke back up again.

"You gonna introduce us? She said she wanted to meet us." Natasha asked. Bucky could see how antsy everyone was to meet you. He knew his answer wouldn't help. "Not right now. She needs rest. One day yes. She won't appreciate being dropped into a first meeting. She works very hard and she is very important to me. I don't want to cause her distress."

"I know that isn't what you guys want to hear but please be patient. She is amazing, she was completely unfazed when we asked to help her move in and she realized who we are. She didn't freak out or anything. Just thanked us and dropped off cookies. She is a polite and considerate woman who deserves our respect. She'll want to meet you when she believes she won't embarrass us." Steve took over when Bucky trailed off. "She takes care of us when she can, because she doesn't take car of herself." Steve raised his voice to carry into the kitchen.

"That's fucking rich coming from the multiple 4-F-lying-on-government-forms-jumping-without-parachutes-reckless idiot." You snapped back finally standing up from the table. You eyed the dishwasher but ultimately decided to put you bowl in the sink, you headache had shrank but you still feared it falling off if you bent over.

"If you have time to sass Steve, you time to take meds." Bucky reminded you.

"I just took them, dad." You stuck your tongue out at him. "Do I get to be introduced?" You smiled but Bucky could see the tense set of your shoulders and how your eyes jumped from person to person.

"Nope. I am not giving you any excuse to skip your nap. Go on, if you want to take a show-"

You moaned in delight. "Oh, god, yes, please." You shuffled over to where you knew the bathroom to be not paying attention to how Bucky was struggling to push down thoughts of how else he could get those noises out of you.

"Everything is in the bathroom." Bucky called out as the door shut. He spun to face Steve, eyes wide and hands wringing. "Steve" Bucky whined pitifully.

Steve looked up to see Bucky's distraught look. Steve offered no support only shaking his head in amusement.  Bucky flopped down, feeling dramatically unsettled. He was aware he had a possessive streak a mile wide and you were going to be wet and slippery in his shower, using his soaps, wearing his clothes, sleeping in his bed. It was enough to fell a weaker man but Bucky was better than that. He would respect your boundaries and wait for the proper opening. Laughter from the game grabbed his attention, he chose to actively follow the game feeling guilty about his raunchy thoughts and neglect of his friends. "Sorry, guys. I didn't mean to ignore you."

Natasha didn't say anything just smiled knowingly at the ever so slight sheen of sweat at Bucky's temple. The Maximoff Twins waved away the apology.

"Dude, if I was you, I would have kicked everyone out and taken care of my girl." Sam said.

"She would have left first. She sees herself as the second choice. Something I hope to unlearn her of. I want to help her more, slowly I am learning her personality. But I constantly freeze in the moment. She's always so busy. I am trying to help by making her lunch and keeping her place tidy. That really seemed to help." Bucky said.

"That is a good idea. Why not invite her as your date to the Stark Charity Gala in a few months?" Sam suggested. Bucky seemed to think on it for a moment and looked to Steve, who nodded.

"Fine. I will ask her to the gala. that should give her time to find a dress and get off work." The group cheered lightly. "But!" They paused. "I will only ask her as my official date if Steve asks Tony. No matter what I will ask her to go for a night out because she deserves it." Bucky challenged his old friend. The other members of the team cheered once more. Steve and Tony's mutual pining was frustrating enough, adding on Bucky and yours's was nauseatingly frustrating.

The excitement of the possible feelings resolution was enough to get everyone involved in the game once more. Bucky kept an ear out for you in case you needed something. 20 minutes later and you shuffled out of the bathroom, looking extremely refreshed. Bucky almost swallowed his tongue, his red shirt and sweat draped off your much smaller frame and he could smell his shampoo in your hair and his body wash on your skin.

"Sargent Bar-"Bucky shot you a look. "James." Earned you another. "Bucky" You sighed. "Bucky, Steve, everyone, sorry I ruined you afternoon. I didn't mean to intrude." You played with the hem of his shirt, looking small and tired.

"We already covered this. You didn't ruin anything." Bucky said firmly without any heat. You flinched anyway. "I gave you a key. I want you to use it. I didn't give it to you with conditions, I gave it to you for both my sanity and yours." Bucky got up and walked over to you. "I am glad you used it today. Please understand, you are my best girl. I want you here, wearing my clothes, smelling like me. I want you with me, near me, all of it." Bucky paused. He was coming on strong and he didn't want to push you away.

"I know. But...I don't want to assume anything.:" you said quietly into his chest. Bucky pulled you into a tight hug. He rubbed your back with one hand and stroked your hair with his metal hand.

"Assume away, pretty girl. I may have reached out because you had helped us so much but now? I want you around because I want you and I care for you." Bucky held you tight for another moment.

"Okay. I am sorry. I am a mess. I get whiny and insecure when I am sick." You pressed your face deeper into his chest.

"Y/N, you are a registered nurse, living on her own in NYC. You are friends with most if not all the Avengers. You are sweet and amazing and compassionate. I know sometimes the hard days turn into hard weeks and you get lost in the fog but you are working through it. You know when to ask for help even if you hate it. You aren't a mess. Maybe a little disheveled but that is easy to straighten out." Bucky pulled away slightly to slid his left hand to your back and his right to your thighs, picking you up to cradle in his arms. "Now, let's get you into bed. You still have two day off and a cold to get rid of."

"Okay, Bucky. Thank you." You mumbled. You wanted to tell him to put you down but the idea of being coddled and carried won out quickly. Your awareness was getting fuzzy around the edges. "You didn't give me Tylenol did you?" You said as Bucky tucked you into his bed. He turned on some music very softly to drown out the noise in the living room, not answering you.

"You need anything, ask me. I mean it, anything. Until then...Sleep tight, my sweet girl. See you later." Bucky kissed you temple, heading towards the door.

"Thank you, sweetheart." You mumbled before nodding off. Bucky physically melted, tension leaving his back and shoulders as he shut the door.