#I'm just sitting here patiently waiting for the update to drop

[sorathecookie]

When the update drops, you'd better believe I'll be making OCs based in the Dragon's Valley

[imaginesandbandfiction]

Triad Part 7 — Trouble in Paradise

A Cazriel x Reader Headcanon

A/N: MFW the silly little smut drabble series I started over winter break starts developing a plot :o

Lmaooo I should have seen this coming. Be patient with me, I'm in a creative writing MFA program so fanfic isn't my priority rn but this series is begging to be written so I'm going to follow those vibes as far as they take me, just bear with me if updates are sporadic.

Click here to be added to the taglist so you never miss an update!

Warnings: Angst, some smut

Of course, there’s a learning curve that comes with a Triad Bond. Sex is the easy part—being in a relationship with two bullheaded Illyrian males is more complicated.

Rhys tried his best not to send any of you on solo missions but, inevitably, something came up and Azriel had to go undercover in the Court of Nightmares. It’s a top-secret mission and he has to block you and Cassian out the entire time he’s there, lest someone learn the true reason for his visit.

And… it was a lot easier to be a spy without two mates waiting for him back home. His mental shields are ironclad, trapping all the frustration and sadness behind closed doors, but it seeps out in other ways. His shadows are way more vicious than they normally are and, after long days spent playing nice with Keir and his cronies, as soon as his bedroom door locks behind him, he fists his cock in quick strokes. It takes a matter of minutes for him to spill himself into the mattress with how pent-up he is.

Things aren’t much better in Velaris. Sure, you and Cas have each other, but the bond hates the dark hole where Az should be and no matter how hard you try to soothe the ache, it never goes away.

Cassian throws himself into training; on days he doesn’t have other work to do, he flies out to Windhaven and spends the day beating the shit out of anyone who dares challenge him. When he comes home late at night, you patch him up with soft, delicate touches and hold him until his tears dry up.

Sex isn’t the same without Azriel there, either. You try to hold out; it feels wrong without him, but everything boils over a week into his absence.

Cassian spent the day in Windhaven, again, and you wait up with a book and a cup of tea but it’s morning when he slams through the door drenched in blood and reeking like the mixed-together contents of a liquor cabinet.

“Cas?” You mumble, lifting your head off the couch cushion and rubbing your eyes as you push yourself into a sitting position. He stomps past you into the bedroom and you hear the water running as he fills the bath. Stifling a yawn, you push through the nausea swirling in your gut and follow him on your tiptoes.

When you push the washroom door open, you see his broad shoulders bent over the edge of the half-filled tub, bloodied and shaking with the force of his sobs.

You surge forward and fall to your knees next to him, wrapping your arms around his middle.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” you whisper, rubbing his back. His head drops to your chest and you feel his rumbling anger in your soul.

Y/N? It’s Rhys’ voice in your head, tentative and sheepish. Is he okay?

No, you snarl back, immediately feeling guilt for the harshness of your words. But Ariel is gone, Cassian is broken, and your heart is torn in two. You force yourself to be gentler as you ask: Is there something I should know?

Rhys hesitates. Devlon called me in to fetch him this morning and… it wasn’t pretty. I’ll send word to Madja and tell her you’re going to be out for a few days.

Before you can protest, he continues. I know you’ve been working overtime. You’re running yourself ragged, Y/N. You need a break just as much as he does.

Rhysand cuts off the mental connection in the middle of your indignant huff, but the gears in your mind are turning. Instead of turning to each other in Az’s absence, you’ve been burying yourselves in solitude and work. Clearly, something has to change.

You loosen the strip of leather holding Cas’s hair up and sprinkle deep purple healing magic into it as you run your fingers through his thick locks. It’s just enough to calm him down, sobs tapering off into shuddering breaths.

“Cas?” You ask when he finally stills, slumping boneless against you. “Whose blood is this?”

He tilts his head back, guilt filling in every line on his face, and your heart clenches. No wonder Rhys offered to talk to Madja for you; he probably needed her to fix whatever damage Cassian’s misplaced anger had caused.

“‘M sorry,” Cas whispers, burying his face in your neck again. “I didn’t mean to, I just…”

“Shhh,” you shushed him, curling one arm to cradle his head. “I know you didn’t, baby. Rhys does too. This is new territory for all of us, and there were bound to be some kinks to work out.” Cas nods against you and you squeeze him as tight as you can, channeling love and healing magic through the bond. Behind you, the tub is full of steamy hot water, so you wave your hand to get rid of Cas’s clothes and help him into the bath.

When he’s settled, you shed your nightgown and get in with him. He rests his head against the side of the tub and lets you run a bar of soap over the planes of his muscles, healing bruises and scrapes as you find them.

"Thank you," he whispers once you’ve finished. He reaches one hand out and pulls you against his chest without opening his eyes.

The bond settles as much as it can without a third anchor to tether itself to. You lay there, basking in the soft glow of your mingling magic, until suddenly Cassian stands up, pushing you off him.

“Sorry,” he grunts when you fall forward, splashing into the water. “I just…” You follow his gesturing hand down the V of his hips and the problem stares out at you—long, thick, and hard. “I dunno, it feels wrong without Az.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, torn between the mouth-watering sight of him on display, just inches from your face, and the guilt bubbling up inside you. In the end, the bond makes the decision for you, practically shoving you forward to pull Cas’s cock in between your lips.

His protests are dead on arrival; you don’t even hear them, too focused on pouring all your pent-up sexual frustration out onto him.

After just a few minutes, his hips are bucking wildly and he forces himself to pull back. You look up at him with wide eyes and saliva dripping down your chin, and he growls, tugging you out of the tub so he can shove you against the wall. He drops to his knees and drapes one of your legs over his shoulder, devouring you like a man starved.

With no patience left for teasing, he fucks you with his tongue, plunging deep into your core until you’re writhing against him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, tumbles out of your head and into his as the pleasure builds and builds.

That's it, baby, he sends back down the bond, digging into your sweet spot with one of his fingers. Let go for me.

Your body follows his command, the tightly wound coil inside of you snapping as soon as you have permission. He grins against you as you fuck his face, riding out your high.

As soon as he pulls away, he’s got his hands under your ass, hauling you up into his arms as he presses his cock into your slick folds. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as your head drops back against the wall.

It’s quick and dirty. Without Azriel there to force you to slow down and savor each other, you’re teetering on the edge of a second orgasm before you’ve fully recovered from the first. Cassian’s thrusts grow sloppier and you feel through the bond that his release is looming.

When he ducks his head to pull one of your nipples between his teeth, both of you lose the last of your self-control. Cas drives his hips into you and fills you up, tipping you over the cliff. You clench your walls around him as your release comes gushing out.

Meanwhile, in one of the training rooms under the mountain, a wave of something washes over Az as he’s running through drills against a training dummy with Truth Teller. At first, he thinks it’s nausea and regrets not stopping by the kitchens to grab a bite earlier, but the ache is too low to be coming from his stomach.

When he reaches one gloved hand to palm himself through his leathers, he’s shocked to find his cock solid and straining against the fabric. He thanks the Mother that he’s training alone today and makes quick work of it.

Three weeks into Az’s mission, Mor heads under the mountain to check on him under the guise of visiting her father. She enters the dining room and immediately realizes that something is wrong. There’s a woman sitting to Kier’s right, and Az is on her other side. His shadows nip at Mor’s toes like she’s the enemy as she takes her seat on her father’s left.

He refuses to speak to her, but when they make eye contact during dessert, his eyes are dark and stormy, filled with shadows of their own.

When she retires to her room later that night, she reports back to Rhys who orders her to pull Az out as soon as she can.

Despite the fact that they haven’t slept together in decades, it’s easy to slip back into old habits. The next morning at breakfast, she lays it on thick. By dinner time, her father merely waves them off when she requests the Shadowsinger for her own personal reasons.

“Go on then,” he grunts, rolling his eyes. “I’ll let the High Lord know when I require your presence next.”

As soon as they’ve both gathered their belongings, Mor winnows them away. When his feet touch solid ground, Az shoves her away with a snarl. His shadows surge forward to cushion her back and prevent her from falling; even blinded by his anger, he doesn't want to hurt her.

“What the fuck,” he growls. “I wasn’t done!”

“I have orders to pull you out of there. Rhys thinks you’ve gone in too deep.” Az growls like a feral animal being forced into a cage.

“Rhysand needs me in there now more than ever. Something’s happening, Mor. Something big, and I was working my way in, I—“

Mor cuts him off, holding a hand up to silence him.

“You think I don’t know that? Whether I like it or not, that’s my father. I know something’s up, but Rhys needs you in there, Azriel. And you’re not you right now. You’re cold and ruthless, not thinking clearly after too much time away from your mates.”

Az deflates and drops onto the sofa behind him. It’s the worn old leather one in Rhys’s mother’s cottage, in Windhaven. Mor sits down next to him, rubbing a hand across his shoulders, careful to avoid brushing against his wings which are rigid and full of tension.

“It’s not your sole responsibility to save the world, Az. You’re an excellent spy, but you’re more than that, too. Don’t let the tunnel vision take over.”

Az drops his head into his hands, letting out all of the air in his lungs with one deep sigh. He knows she’s right, that the bond should be a strength and not a weakness, but he’s terrified that something will happen to his mates. He couldn’t risk it, not when he was down there.

But that wasn’t his decision to make alone. The more he fought against the bond, the more it fought back, rattling his brain and tugging at every one of his senses. The effort to keep it bottled up drained his energy until all he could see was the mission, his purpose. Gathering information about the woman, Amarantha, became the most important thing in his life.

So he feels like a bit of an asshole when he turns up on your doorstep with his rucksack slung over one shoulder and only a faint shimmer of the bond left flickering inside his chest. It’s not enough to keep him tethered to the two of you, so he has no idea how you're feeling, but he forces himself to knock on the door, anyway.

“Hi,” you whisper, letting your arm drop from the doorknob to your side. On your end, the bond bursts into bright golden flames that shoot down, making a beeline for Azriel.

It tugs at Cas’s side, too, and then his head pops up behind your shoulder.

“Hi,” he says, flashing the dopiest grin that Azriel has ever seen.

Taglist: @wallacewillow0773638 @hnyclover

[ijwrsmff]

Gachatober Day 1. Djinn - Zhongli

Day one of the monster fest!!! As stated in a previous update, the reader will usually be gn to apply to more people, and it'll be entirely fluff to make up for the kinktober I'm also doing XD

I did a lil bit of research on Djinn, and one of the main results when looking them up is how they can look like anything they want, so I leaned further into the shapeshifting aspect rather than general magic and other qualities. So with that said! Thank you for reading <3

Word Count: 1,241

You always knew something was a little different about your boyfriend, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Despite being a couple for several months now, there were still some aspects of him that were a mystery to you. He always seemed to know your favorite foods, and it was almost like he was reading your mind sometimes. But it wasn’t like you had any proof, so you kept your thoughts off the matter. Surely he wasn’t something inhuman…right?

Though today you thought you saw a small shift in his appearance. It wasn’t a different hairstyle, nor did you notice him getting any taller…but it seemed like something was completely wrong about his appearance. You were stumped, and stared at him intensely at the dinner table. Any other day and you might have dropped it, but you were determined to know the answers to your questions that had been building up for the majority of your relationship. 

When you saw traces of red and orange across his face for a split second, you couldn’t deny those nagging thoughts anymore. Though as soon as you opened your mouth to speak, you hesitated. What were you supposed to do? Ask him if he was even human? That wouldn’t go over well, but neither would sitting here contemplating if you should just ask the question or not. With a deep sigh, you looked at him with a mixture of hesitation and overwhelming curiosity. 

“Zhongli…this might sound stupid…” You tried to give him a small smile, but you were worried you’d look like a complete idiot for even thinking about asking your question. “Are you…entirely human?” It was hard to maintain eye contact with him, but it left you with your jaw dropping when he responded casually. 

“No.” 

You gasped, but gulped and tried to gather your courage to continue on with this train of conversation. “So what…are you?” It had your full attention, knowing he wasn’t one to joke around when you were being so earnest…or even joke around at all. “Sometimes I see you look different. Like a different skin color for a second, or you always seem to know what I’m thinking or what I like.” You felt the need to explain, trying to prove to him and yourself that you weren’t crazy. 

“I’m a Djinn.” He spoke, matter-of-factly. As he took a sip of his drink, he waited patiently for your response. When he didn’t get one, with you stumbling for words, he continued. “I’m sure you’re aware of what that is. Though I’m a bit different from the others, in that…I sought a relationship with a human. And I don’t regret that choice.” His words held no hesitation, but there was a small glimmer of vulnerability in his eyes. He was genuinely scared you’d react harshly to it. 

“Oh…” You muttered, unsure of what exactly to say. Sure, you’d heard of Djinn, but you had no idea they were real. And even moreso, you had no idea you were dating one. “I don’t really know much about them-I mean you! I mean-wow I’m really messing this up…” You sighed, and looked at him apologetically. “Is it true you can look however you want to? Is it a mirage or do you actually become what you want?” The traces of excitement were clear in your voice, and he gave a soft smile in appreciation. 

“It may be easier to show you.” He coughed, and let you pay for the meal as per usual, though you didn’t mind. As soon as the bill had been paid, he held your hand and led you to the outskirts of your small town in Liyue. 

Normally, you’d be afraid to go this far away with someone you didn’t know. But in that moment…you were sure you’d always known the real Zhongli. You may not have known WHAT he was, but you knew WHO he was, and that was far more important. Still, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous to see him potentially shapeshift in front of you. Would he be something dangerous? Something cutesy? Maybe even something small. Though when he did change his form, you couldn’t have been prepared for what you saw. 

In a matter of seconds, he had changed and become a long legless dragon. Despite not even having wings, he floated effortlessly a few feet above the ground. Your jaw dropped once more, and you reached out to feel his face without thinking twice. To your surprise, it seemed as if he really did change into this creature. You could feel every scale, and the structure of his bones through your fingertips. 

“That’s so cool…” You mumbled, and you heard a soft chuckle. It made you jump, somehow even surprised at the fact he sounded the exact same, except for a slight twinge of roughness in the tone. “S-Sorry…I just don’t know what to say.” You staggered a bit, but leaned into his touch with a laugh as his tail wrapped around you loosely. 

“If you’d like, I can show you the skies. I’m overdue for a flight anyway.” He didn’t portray any preference, as if it was completely up to you or not, and he didn’t mind either response. Though he could pick up on your question easily, continuing. “I wouldn’t let you fall. Not in a million years.” He leaned his head forward, and relaxed himself as he gave you a small reassuring squeeze. 

“I think…I’d like that. But I’m gonna hold you to your word!” You playfully poked his nose and let out a giggle. “I’ll never forgive you if you let me fall.” But as you grew more used to his form, you ran your hands along his scales in a display of affection. Your eyes were still wide in awe, but your face held a wide grin, as you felt like you’d been able to see something very few in history have. You swelled with pride, and you promised yourself you’d never do anything to break his trust. 

With his help, you got on him, grasping tightly around him with your arms and legs. A surprised yelp left your lips as he moved slowly and precisely further into the sky. But true to his word, he never got you anywhere close to falling off. If you neared that point, he grasped you firmly and helped you stay in place. It was the first of many flights, and you got to see just how easily he could look like anything he wanted to. 

One question stuck though, and you had to ask a few months after you learned of what he was. “Why…this form? You could look like anything in the world! So why do you choose to look like that?” You hummed, your head in his lap as you looked up at him. “I’m not complaining! I mean you look great, but I wanna know the thought process behind it. 

It caused him to let out a chuckle, and he cradled your face in his hands. His eyes were full of adoration, and he stroked your cheeks with his thumbs. “Because…I believed this was the kind of man you would speak with.” His confession had you blushing red, but your look of shock was replaced with a grin. 

“You’re really sweet and sappy, beneath that apathetic facade you know.” You giggled, and leaned further into his touch. 

“Only for you, my love.” 

[forest-falcon]

The Butterfly Effect

Chptr 17

It's been a while since I've last updated this fic, but here it is - the next chapter of The Butterfly Effect. Hope you enjoy! And thanks for everyone's lovely support with this story. Hopefully it won't be as long before the next chapter is out 🤞

No major tags for this one - minor angst, whump and a bit of family fluff thrown in!

💙💚🧡💛💜🐦‍🔥🚒

John was torn. Torn between all those who needed him. Torn between duty and love. But, in the end, the choice was easy. His place was on the GDF carrier headed for Auckland, at the side of his brothers and Grandmother.

The post-mission clean up (if it could indeed be called that), the press, and the rest of the world waiting on them, would simply have to manage. God knows, he was having to.

Hauling himself aboard, he gently touched the painted name of the carrier, before finding a vacant seat next to Tam.

"Welcome aboard!" Colonel Casey greets, over the sounds of the engines, and flicking of buttons.

Val had been good to them. As soon as she had a functional comms line up and working, she'd taken the initiative to pull strings with a number of contacts. Phoenix would be allowed the time off from their regular civilian jobs back home to help with getting International Rescue back onto their feet, if they so wished.

It was a unanimous 'yes.'

"We're here for as long as you need us," her words held a warmth befitting her honorary Aunt status. She'd squeezed his shoulder, before brushing a stray lock of hair out of Scott's face.

"Thanks," John sighed, with a gratitude that somehow furthered his exhaustion.

Although it was in the world's best interest to see International Rescue functioning again, as swiftly as possible; it was good to know that people had their backs when the chips were down.

Val made her way to the front of the carrier and a flutter of garish Hawaiian fabric filled the seat.

Gordon peered over the eldest brother.

"Hey there, Bird Bath! How's the head?"

A groan, but Scott's eyes remained shut.

"Gords..."

"The one and only!"

Scott could hear his brother's Cheshire Cat grin.

"As your brother, I feel it's my duty to tell you that that landing was...*raspberry* stinko, awful...I've seen Rigby land better!" He gave a thumbs down.

"Ah, save it! Yours is the one Thunderbird that doesn't fly," Rigby deadpanned, from the cockpit.

"Make him stop," Scott's hoarse whisper is mainly levied at John, but entreats any and all who can hear him.

"Gladly. Just tell me how," John smirks, finally letting his shoulders drop a fraction.

"Ah, don't be like that... Hey, I know what'll cheer you both up!"

"No."

"A good ole sea shanty!" Gordon whips out his pocket device.

"Veto."

"Aww, really John? Not even, 'Leave her Johnny, leave her?'"

"Especially not that."

"Fine. I've got you..."

A moment passes as Gordon scrolls, then taps; and the hangar bursts into song.

"Eurovision!"

Virgil reopens his eyes to the sounds of...wait, is that Conchita Wurst?

Oh God, Gordon - Rise Like a Phoenix...really? Phoenix. This was definitely Gordon's taste in music - and humour.

Virgil doesn't remember being hover-stretchered to the hangar, but it's good to hear the voices of his family once more.

"Stop your fussing. I'm fine,"

"I'll be the judge of that Mrs. Tracy."

"Matthew Eric Jones!" Grandma starts.

"She middle named me! Did y'hear that Mac? She middle named me!"

"Oooh! Now you're in for it!" Gordon's chimes in, clearly enjoying his inflight entertainment.

"I was a doctor-"

"-And now you're my patient. So, unless you're going to sign an AMA form, you'll sit back nicely, and let me do my job."

"Oooh, I like him." Grandma's voice concedes. "Fine. But if they keep me in, you're bringing the treats! And none of this basket of grapes rubbish. I'm talking chocolate and brandy - neat."

"It's a hospital, Grandma." John's voice reasons.

"And?"

"And you should know - better than most, that they're not gonna let us bring that in for you."

Grandma goes to fold her arms, then winces, with a concealed hiss.

"John. Kid. I'm old! Just stick it in a sippy cup and call it apple juice - they'll never know the difference!"

"Stop tryna...get John...into trouble."

It's a wonderful sound, hearing the deep rumble of baritone. Sally can feel a secondary tightness - one she could not attribute to her injury, leave her broken ribcage.

"Eh. Twas worth a shot." She offers up a warm smile, knowing he cannot see it - both her eldest grandsons sporting large foam trauma blocks; but she hopes he can hear the sentiment within her voice.

"Nice to have you back in the land of the living, kid!"

[whositmcwhatsit]

AN: Yeah, here's part 3 of my "halloween one shot".... This is primarily for @thatbanditqueen who has been nudging me for months, patiently cheerleading, and reminding me that I used to write. Thank you to everyone who regularly pokes me to check if I'm still alive and patiently asks for updates on stuff. I appreciate you, so much. Chapter 2 Chapter Three Tiptoeing precariously and dripping across the carpet as she clutched a rough, thin towel to her front, Cheryl scrabbled for the lock and only just managed to stumble back in time to avoid having a door and a six foot man crash into her face. 

Elvis barrelled in and slammed the door closed behind him, leaning against it like someone was trying to barge their way in. Someone other than him, that is. 

“What happened?” she asked, trying to gather the corners of the towel around her.

“I…” He frowned at her and then looked back at the door, his eyes wide and wild. She waited for more, but he seemed to be finding it hard to get the words out. She finally went back into the bathroom to change into some clothes, leaving him standing by the adjoining door, eyeing it warily. 

“I-I- I thought it was you,” he said eventually, after she had returned and perched on the end of her bed, sitting there for about ten silent minutes. She waited for him to elaborate, but this seemed to be as much as he was prepared to say. “I thought it was you.” 

After a while, his shock seemed to transform into anger and she watched him start to pace in front of the door, his jaw clenched tight. 

“This is crazy,” he muttered quietly. “You about lost your damn mind, boy.” He shot her a glance that seemed to be measuring her up, like he wasn’t sure that it hadn’t been her in his room even though she had clearly been in the shower at the time. He glared back at the door and then nodded to himself, making up his mind about something.

Letting his cheeks puff up with air, he exhaled in a meditative pause, before reaching out and twisting the door handle. Cheryl craned her neck, trying to see around him as he stood, legs astride, in the open doorway, ready to confront whatever was there. She watched his shoulders drop, then he walked through the door into the empty room, touching the tangled blankets at the end of the bed. 

Cheryl followed and he turned his head slightly to acknowledge her, reaching back and snagging her hand with his fingers. 

“I weren’t imagining it,” he murmured to himself. “I’m touched in the head, but I ain’t that crazy, not yet. I know what I saw.” 

“What did you see?” she asked gently, feeling his hand sweating a little in hers. 

“I- You won’t tell no one about this, will ya, honey? Last thing I need is some gossip rag printing a bullshit story about ole Elvis seein’… Well, y’know.” 

“It’ll stay between us,” she murmured, but in her mind she was imagining the free publicity it could bring her. No more struggling to get bookings, no more playing to superstitious grannies and their drunk, heckling husbands. She focused back on the room and her heart lurched at the way his eyebrows were slightly knitted together and his upper lip curled as he studied her, like he could see exactly what she was imagining and he was hurt by it. She felt like she had kicked a kitten. 

“Was it a girl?” she asked instead, shifting uncomfortably. He looked down, nodded with a jerk. “Was she crying?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t really.. It weren’t no more than a shadow really, s’why I thought it was you. Only you didn’t answer and-” His expression changed, froze, and whatever he was about to tell her receded like the tide.

“I saw her earlier,” she revealed, offering it up as an apology, an act of contrition to try and mend the trust between them. “In my room. And I think I heard her screaming before that.” 

“Goddamn,” he breathed, sinking down onto the end of the bed and staring balefully at the carpet. “This is-” 

Cheryl didn’t quite know what to do. She felt almost guilty since this was her regular life and, though she didn’t know how, it had somehow spilled over into his. She patted his shoulder tentatively. When he glanced up though he was grinning, teeth biting into his plush bottom lip. 

“I knew it!” he cried. “I goddamn knew that there had to be more to this than-” He swiveled his hand around absently, frenetically. “-There had to be! Shit, the guys ain’t gonna believe this!” He jumped to his feet and moved towards his door, but then almost immediately stopped again. 

“They ain’t gonna believe this,” he repeated, his tone completely different this time. He reached up and brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead. “They’re good boys, most of ‘em, but they don’t have a thought that ain’t about their wallet, their belly or their pecker, and not in that order. This’d just… it’d be too much for their tiny minds to comprehend.”

Cheryl stared back at him as he finally looked at her, not sure that her input was required in this solo conversation he was having. 

“I- Why’s she crying?” He raised his eyebrows at her when she didn’t respond. 

“Sorry?” 

“You said she- the gho- the girl- she was crying? Why’s she crying?” He smoothed his hair again and adjusted his robe, trying to look like he was comfortable with the conversation, but his restless hands were giving him away. 

“I don’t know,” she replied with a shrug. Her eyes slid to the clock on the wall; it would be dawn soon and she was feeling the weight of the day before pressing down on her body and her eyelids. 

“Can’t you ask her? I mean that’s your racket- your job, right?” 

“Maybe?” She wanted to be honest with him and temper his expectations. This girl seemed to want to make contact, but the operator, who or whatever that was, might not feel like putting the call through. That was the way that she thought about it anyway. “I guess we could try.” She eyed the sparse mid century decor and furniture dubiously. “We might need to change the ambiance a little bit.” Cheryl wondered what Elvis’ guys thought about being woken at four am and told that they needed to procure candles and lilies. From listening to Elvis’ end of the call, she guessed they were unimpressed to say the least. 

She was in the bathroom changing into her stage wear, eavesdropping on Elvis as he made his demands sounding like a cross between a drill sergeant, a high school football coach and a spoilt prince. 

“I don’t know where you’re gonna get it from, son,” he was saying as she straightened the black crinoline sleeve around her wrist. “That’s what I pay you for. Now you wanna run with us, you wanna be part of the organization, you gotta pull your weight. Use some fuckin’ ingenuity for once in your goddamn life!” He slammed down the phone, dropped his shoulders and turned as she emerged from the bathroom, his calm face and grin belying the angry tone he had just used on the phone. “We’ll have what you need in less than an hour.” 

Eyebrows raising, he whistled, and she felt a flash of warmth- mainly embarrassment- as he took in her outfit. 

“Those are some threads you got on there. You go all out with the get-up and everything, huh.”  

Cheryl shrugged awkwardly, feeling silly, but he ran his hands down his silk robe contemplatively. 

“I gotta change.” 

With far too much energy and excitement for the early hours of the morning, he strode towards the adjoining door to his room and started to go through it, but he paused in the threshold, grabbing the edge of the door. 

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna leave this open,” he said haltingly. “Just in case you- you need me or anything, okay, honey?” The twinkle in his eye and his slight smirk was sly, acknowledging that they both knew why he wanted to leave the door open and that it had nothing to do with him looking out for her. 

Fifty minutes after the phone call, there was a brisk knock on Cheryl’s door and she opened it to find two sopping wet, angry-looking men. One was clutching a huge arrangement of white lilies and the other a brown paper bag that was almost just as wet as he was. Behind them, sheets of rain continued to pummel the asphalt. 

“How in the world…” she began, but they were not in the mood to talk, gesturing for her to step aside so that they could put their wares on the sideboard and storm back out. She gingerly opened the paper bag to find candles and wax polish. 

Again, there was a rap on the door and another guy, a lick of hair plastered to his forehead by the rain, was standing holding another bag. Cheryl sniffed the air in confusion. 

“Is that..?”

“‘Bout damn time,” Elvis remarked, leaning up against her back and grabbing the sack from his employee's hand. “These got mustard on ‘em?” 

“Yeah, E, I-”

“Well, I don’t need a running commentary,” Elvis returned, turning from the door. Cheryl gave the guy an uncomfortable smile and closed the door. 

Elvis was practically vibrating with anticipation. He grabbed one of the bacon sandwiches from the sack and opened it up cautiously with his thumb and forefinger like he was afraid of what he might find. Whatever it was, it seemed to meet his exacting standards as he hummed happily and took a ravenous bite. Cheryl shook her head and started her preparations. 

Elvis followed her around the room, just over her shoulder like an eager child, watching her position the lillies on the floor and set up the candles, using the plastic cups from their bathrooms as makeshift candle holders. 

“What's with the, uh, polish there, honey?” He balled up the grease-stained bag and tossed it into the wastepaper basket near the door. He had eaten the sandwiches without even offering her one. 

“There's no- That is, there isn't a reason as such. My grandmother, she was the one who taught me how to “listen”- that's what she called it. We'd practice for hours in her parlor. She was the real deal, had people coming to her from all over for séances and readings. She was also very house proud, every inch of her house gleamed. All my memories of her and my lessons are thick with the scent of wax polish.” She flushed. “I wish I had a better explanation for you.”

His face mirrored hers, a slightly bashful smile tilting his lips. 

“No, I get it,” he said softly. “I got some smells that remind me of home too. Not the way it is now, but before…” He shook his head, leaping slickly over vulnerability and tender memories like he was stepping over a puddle. “And all I have to do is get a hint of wood smoke and I'm back to freezing my ass off in maneuvers over in Germany. You think it's cold now? Damn near left all my toes over there!” 

“Well, I think I'm about ready,” she sighed, eyeing the little array she had created on the carpet. She did it just the way her grandmother had done it, the cards to her left, the slate and chalk, just the way Gran’s own mother had taught her. 

Elvis stood beside her and fluttered his fingers out at his sides.

“Where do you want me, honey?” She glanced up and smiled, feeling her cheeks grow warm. “For this, I mean.” He winked. 

Cheryl gestured to the other side of the candles and he tugged up the legs of his trousers before sinking down onto the floor with his legs crossed. 

Elvis’ excitement was palpable. She could feel it tingling against her even as she twisted open the tin of polish and took in a deep breath, inhaling wax and sweet cloying lilies mixed with the lingering scent of burnt bacon and Elvis’ cologne. 

“Don't you have to… say something?” he whispered after a minute. “Like invite them in or something? I saw a movie once where-”

“Shh!” She immediately regretted it, her eyes fluttering open and an apology on her tongue, but he looked chastised, his lips pressed together and his eyes watching her intently. She felt powerful, for just a second. 

That all fizzled out pretty quickly when she tried to tune in and heard… nothing. She frowned and focussed on her breathing. It just didn’t make any sense, because she could feel something, someone, and they clearly wanted to make contact. 

“Come on,” she hissed, squeezing her eyes closed and leaning down like she was trying to eavesdrop on a conversation in a crowded room. They were there, she knew it, she just had to try a little harder, reach a little further.

A couple of awkward minutes passed and she could feel her stomach dropping with each tick of her watch. It turned out that failing on a questionably clean motel floor sitting opposite Elvis Presley was just as humiliating as dying on a dusty stage in Eugene, Oregon, with people clearing their throats and scuffing their shoes, murmuring and whispering behind their hands. 

Finally, letting out a huff of embarrassment and exasperation, she said, “It’s not working.” 

She opened her eyes, prepared to see his suspicion and disappointment, but not the dark haired girl leaning over him, her drenched hair dripping ghostly drops that evaporated before they fell on his bent legs. 

“What?” Elvis said, his eyes widening as he took in her face. He started to turn, but Cheryl grabbed his hand. “What’s going on?”

“Stay still.” Her voice sounded a lot calmer than she felt being almost nose to nose with one of the clearest spirits she had ever seen. If not for the disappearing water and the fact that Elvis seemed oblivious, Cheryl could have assumed that one of the girls from the parking lot outside had sneaked into the room. The girl was clinging to his shoulders, fingers ending in vague dark smudges that seemed to grip, to claw into him. 

“Tell me what you can see, goddamnit!” he snapped through clenched teeth, nonetheless frozen in place. 

“It’s a girl. I think the same one I saw before, but I’ve never, uh, I…” Cheryl could not take her eyes away, convinced that something would happen as soon as she did. “Do you feel anything? Like a cold spot, or tingling?” 

“I-I… I don’t know, maybe, but then we’ve been sitting here for a while, so-” 

“Don’t move!”

“I can’t help it!” As he jerked his shoulder, the girl turned toward him and Cheryl could almost feel the hunger in her charcoal smudged gaze, the slow, unfurling smile radiating with possessiveness and desperation.  “Aren’t you gonna ask her? Ask what happened to her?” He kept glancing to his side as if he’d be able to see something if he looked at the right time. 

“Right, okay.” Cheryl looked at the girl, the spirit, and focused as hard as she could, trying to find the right wavelength, the right channel. When she asked for her name, the girl did not respond. She asked what she was doing here, nothing. There was only one person in the room with a connection to her and it wasn’t Cheryl. 

“Ask her if that sonovabitch downstairs put his greasy hands on her,” Elvis growled between clenched teeth, tapping the top of Cheryl’s hand with his fingertips like he was communicating through Morse code. 

The candles guttered violently as if the door had blown open just as the radio blared out, static almost like pins piercing their ear drums. The flames spilt onto the carpet, the cheap nylon melting faster than ice cream on a summer’s day. 

Cursing, Elvis scrambled to his feet, yanking her up behind him and stamped on the burgeoning fire. Cheryl scanned the room for the girl. 

A few minutes later, she was shivering on the upper walkway of the motel while Elvis pummeled a door, yelling for the occupant to open up. The rain was slicing down, penetrating their clothes and matting their hair, while the smell of melted carpet clung around them like a haze. 

Joe went through a litany of expressions as he opened the door and Elvis barged his way inside, groggy bewilderment, confusion, annoyance, and then resignation. 

“There’s been a fire,” Elvis announced in a very airy, casual way as if he hadn’t just hightailed it out the motel room, dragging Cheryl along like a toy on a string. “I took care of it, but someone’s gotta deal with the room. 

“A fire?!” Joe’s eyes scanned them both to ascertain that they were okay. “How- I mean-” He ran a hand through his receding hairline and sighed. “I’ll get on it. Whose room?”

“My room,” Cheryl told him, since Elvis had marched into Joe’s bathroom and was currently wiping himself off with one of Joe’s towels. “It was the candles. It must have been the candles.” 

Joe went to the phone and started mobilizing the forces as Elvis came out of the bathroom, grimacing as he wiped at his neck with the towel. 

“This goddamn rain,” he muttered, before his eyes settled on Cheryl and a strange, little smile curled at the corner of his mouth. “Ain’t all bad though.” 

She glanced down and saw how the sopping crinoline had molded itself to her body, particularly her breasts. She promptly folded her arms over her chest. 

“Aw, I’m only playing, honey.” He stepped closer, his hips bumping into her. He wrapped his towel around her face like it was a head scarf and laughed softly. “And anyway, you should be sweet to me. I just saved you.”

“Oh, you did?” Cheryl half-laughed.

“Yeah, I sure did.” He twisted his arm and showed her the shiny red patch on his forearm with a huff of a laugh. “Paid the price for it too, boy.”

“You got burned?!” she cried. 

Reclined on one of the single beds, Joe’s head turned like a whip, the receiver falling from the crook of his neck. 

“Naw, just a little,” Elvis laughed, peering at it. “It don’t hurt that much.” 

“Want me to call the doctor?” asked Joe. 

“No, man, it’s nothing, just get my things brought in here and pay that little snake for the damage to his room.”

If Joe was confused about why he was being asked to bring Elvis’ things into his room when it was Cheryl’s room that had been burnt, he didn’t show it. 

By the time that she had persuaded Elvis to let her run some cold water over his arm, the cases were already inside the door, though Joe was nowhere to be seen. 

“And to think I thought this whole damn movie was gonna be a bust,” he remarked as they huddled over the small basin in the bathroom where she was holding his arm under the faucet. “I mean, it probably will, but it ain’t every day that… Whatever that was… happens to a fella. No sir, that is God's honest proof right there. And even you were scared, I saw your face, you were like a- a scared little lamb. Oh, you were, honey, you don’t have no poker face. And I was just thinking to myself, ‘Well, if she’s scared, we’re about done for, for sure.’”

Finally, he dropped onto the other, untouched single bed in the bedroom and sprawled out on his elbows, giving her a little beckon with his fingers. 

“C’mon, honey, we gotta get you out of the wet clothes,” he smirked. “Don’t want you getting pneumonia.” 

“You’re a true American hero,” Cheryl remarked, still moving towards him. 

“Don’t I know it,” he breathed, pushing himself up to sit by the side of the bed and tugging her forward by the skirt so that he could start unfastening the buttons. 

“We still don’t know who she is.” 

“That can’t be no big thing to find out. It had to have been in the newspapers or something. I’ll get one of the boys on it tomorrow.” 

The way that he was undressing her was almost tender, as if his primary concern genuinely was about her catching cold in damp clothes. After he had drawn her dress down over her shoulders, he rubbed his hands up and down her bare arms as she stood trembling in her slip. 

“I tell ya what’s bugging me though… That lowlife, no-count sonovabitch downstairs that did it. Someone should go down there and put a bullet between his fucking eyes.” 

“Well, we don’t really know if he had anything to do with it,” Cheryl said quickly, worrying that this was another thing he could arrange with just a quick phone call. “We don’t really know anything more than we did before.” He shook his head resolutely, his cheekbones brimming as his eyes twinkled. 

“Honey, we know everything!” he insisted. “Everything that’s worth knowing anyway. We got proof! Proof that there’s something else, after this, and there ain’t nobody that’s really gone!” His leg was bouncing as he beamed at her, as though she had reconstituted space, time and dimensions just to please him. 

In one smooth motion, he swung her onto the bed and she dropped onto the squeaky mattress with a muffled squawk. Her legs tangled across his lap as he leant over her, greedily clasping her jaw with his fingers as he kissed her. His kiss felt like a gift, a reward, an offering of thanks as though she had done something to earn it. If she had been a better person, more moral perhaps or stronger willed, she would have pushed him away, or at least felt bad for accepting his gratitude for something she had no control over, but she wasn’t. Cheryl had never been a good person. 

As she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, his shirt still damp under her skin, she could feel his weight sinking onto her, his upper body flexing and twisting as his hand started at her knee and slid up her thigh, pausing at the hem of her slip. His kisses stopped. 

Opening her eyes, she stared up into his face wreathed in shadow, but his eyebrows clearly raised in a question. It was endearing that he sought her permission. She put her hand over his and pulled it up teasingly, the lace hem sliding with their tangled fingers.

“It does belong to you after all,” she whispered breathlessly. He surged forward and his weight crushed her into the mattress for a few seconds before he rolled over and pulled her with him. 

“You know, I was thinking, uh, Cheryl, honey.” He softly pressed his lips to the space between her brows and then the lip of her nose. “We’re both gonna be up Seattle way, uh, working. I’d like to see you again after we get the hell out of Dodge.”

“Sure, I’ll give you the number of my hotel..” She giggled. “Later.” She moved closer to kiss him and he met her halfway with enough enthusiasm that it felt a little like she was the movie star and he was the nobody. His thumbs massaged her hips as he exerted pressure, smoothing and cupping her ass, and pulling her into and against him. 

Cheryl’s body hummed with a low thrum of energy that usually only coursed through her as she was preparing to step out on stage. Her heart pitter pattered in her chest when she rubbed it against his. 

Suddenly, he pulled back, almost laughing.She found herself smiling even though she didn’t know why. 

“I guess we should be wondering if we’re being watched, right?” he whispered. “We might have ourselves some dirty little ghosts.” His eyes glittered with mirth and she wondered if he was making fun of her. “I don’t care, let ‘em enjoy the show.” She was still processing that as his luscious lips stole the breath from her. 

[momentaryescape]

I'm Comin' Over

Jay Halstead x Reader Word Count: 853 Warnings: None Authors Note: This is the first of a One Chicago mini-series based on the "Im Comin' Over" album

 Jay was in the car before he even picked up the phone. He knew he shouldn’t, that after your last goodbye that should have been it. But no matter how many times he told himself not to, he would still drop everything for you. Neither of you could fully let go. He thought “to hell with closure” as he ran every red light he hit. Closure could wait, you needed him, and he needed you.

——————

You called him after a hard day working at Med with the patients of a massive incident that Intelligence had been called in on. Every time Maggie called out that a patient was coming in you were scared Jay would be the one on the stretcher. Will was the only one who knew that you and Jay had been together, and he knew by the look on your face what you were thinking. 

“He’s okay y/n. I just got off the phone with him, and he told me they were safe.” He gave you a nod before walking away to go check on more patients.

For the next god knows how many hours you and the rest of the ED helped patch people. Will kept you updated when he heard from Jay. You didn't know but he was also keeping Jay updated on you as well. You loved your job but on days like this one when there are more patients than you can count you get overwhelmed and never talk to anyone, knowing others have it worse. Jay was the only person who could get you to open up.

——————

When your name flashed on his screen he knew you needed him. This wasn't the first time one of you had called the other, but this was the first time it was for something neither of you could avoid.

“Hey y/n” His voice was soft.

“Hi, Jay. Do you uh..do you think you can talk to me? I need to talk to someone.” The sound of your voice reminds Jay of the night he would hold you as you let it all out. The times you would fall asleep and dream of what your future with him would look like before it was over.

“Always.” You broke down when he said that. “Today was rough, I uh…every time someone came in I was scared that it was you. That something happened and you were injured. But please Jay, I know moving on was getting closer, but I need you.” Your voice shook, trying not to cry.

“To hell with closure. You need me y/n. We can save it for another time.” You were his world, even if you weren’t his anymore.No matter what he would be there for you.

——————

When he knocked on your door you jumped. You had gotten off the phone with him when he was around the corner from your apartment. In the few minutes since the call ended, you had zoned out, replaying the day in your head on repeat. The fear you felt every time a new person was rushed in that it would be Jay. 

Opening your door you instantly fall into his arms. The mask you had been wearing all day was no longer on. He guided the two of you into the house, locking the door behind you before making his way to your couch. Sitting down next to you he wraps his arms around you pulling you into him. Neither of you talks, the only sound in the room is the soft sob you let out into his chest. Tears marking their presence on his shirt. Pulling you closer, he places a kiss on the top of your head. After a while you look up at him, breaking the silence. “I'm sorry for making you come all the way over here.” He shifts, causing you to sit up. He turns so you are sitting facing each other.

“You never have to apologize for calling me or needing me. You are the most important thing to me. I will always be there for you. Night or Day. No matter how many times we say it's over I will always say fuck the closure. We keep coming back to each other, the fear you had of me being rushed into the ED is the same fear I get every time a victim matches your description. I don’t want to pretend that I don't care about you and that I'm happy without you.” He lifts your chin so you are looking at him. “You are my everything y/n. If you’re willing, we can try this again. This time we can do it right.” Leaning forward, your lips meeting his. His hand moved to cup your cheek.

When you pull away you smile at him. “I love you, Jay Halstead. And I want nothing more than for you to be mine again. This time through thick and thin. I don't want to lose you again.”

“You never lost me y/n. I promise to love you till the end.” He says pulling you in for another kiss.

[senorabond]

WIP Wednesday! Rumor Has It Update

Happy Valentine's Day!!!

I am *hard* at work writing the next chapter. In fact, it's turning into two chapters' worth of smut.

Here is a little sneak peek at what you've got in store for Chapter 8:

“You’re in charge of this; you decide what we do or don’t do, and how far this goes.” He walks around to face you, and you’re surprised to see how gentle his eyes are. They’re round and sincere, serious but not stern. You can’t wait to see them looking up at you from between your legs.

“Understand?”

You nod and he cups your face, running the pad of his thumb over your mouth and parting your lips.

“Use your words, cariño. I need to hear it.”

“I understand,” you say, then drag the tip of your tongue against his thumb. He lets out a pleased hum. 

“Good. Now, tell me your rules.” His other hand strokes your lower back, sending shivers up your spine.

“Oh. Um, I – I don’t know,” you stutter. 

He drops his hands and takes half a step back. “We’re not doing anything until you set the rules.”

“But–”

“This is important, cariño. I’ll give you a moment to gather your thoughts.” 

And just like that, Javi’s walking away from you and sitting on your couch. What the hell is happening here? 

He’s right, of course, damn the man. You want to be mad, but don’t know what to be mad about – how respectful he is? Letting out a deep sigh, you go back to the kitchen and pick up your glass of wine. 

“Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?” Your voice comes out a bit more sarcastic than intended, and the sound of Javi’s throaty chuckle from the living room makes you bristle. 

“Whatever you’re having is fine.” 

The man sounds so calm and unfazed you want to throw something at him, but instead, you pout like a grown up and pour another glass. You set it on the small end table to his left and start pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table. Stuck in a quandary like this, you used to be able to call Marcus up and talk it through, but that sounds as appealing as lemon juice in a paper cut right now. Besides, even if Marcus would help you get laid, he’s probably busy with his girlfriend.

Sighing, you sit down next to Javi and face him. In this position, the hem of your dress rides all the way up to your hip, but you’re in no mood to be modest. Javi takes a sip of his wine and turns slightly in your direction. He puts an arm along the top of the couch, and you try not to notice the way his suit jacket opens, revealing his broad chest sloping down to hint at a soft belly. His thighs splay invitingly, and you bite your bottom lip. 

“Cariño?” Javi’s eyes sparkle with mischief. 

“Right. The rules.” You set your glass of wine down and try to focus. Javi waits patiently, but you can see his fingers toying with the fabric on the back of the couch. He’s just as anxious to get this part over with.

“Rule number one: nothing at work. Ever. Not even after hours or in the parking lot. Nothing.” 

Javi nods in stout agreement. 

“Rule number two: it’s just sex. We’re simply two consenting adults with insane chemistry, privately enjoying the hell out of each other’s bodies.” 

“Enthusiastically consenting,” Javi smirks, and sets his glass of wine down so he can stroke your thigh. The hunger in his eyes is distracting, but you manage to pull your thoughts together one last time.

“And lastly, but most importantly – rule number three: what happens undercover stays undercover.” 

Javi’s hand stills on your thigh and he looks at you curiously. “You mind expanding on that a bit?”

“Our cover is just that; a story, playing pretend. We don’t let it blur the lines of whatever we do outside of the investigation. We have to compartmentalize.” 

Javi takes a moment, considering what you’ve said, then nods. Looking you over, he slides his hand up your thigh and leans in, closing the space between you on the couch. 

“I guess that means we better get out of these clothes.” 

I'm so, so, SO excited to finish this chapter and get it posted for you!

If anybody is interested in my writing "process," I'd be happy to write about that. I have ADHD, and I've learned that I'm a very visual thinker, and discovering a process or method over the last 6 months has been a fun journey.

Here is the song that's been playing on loop for me while I've been writing this particular chapter. I have no idea how to embed the Spotify player, but that link should take you to the song Do It For Me by Rosenfeld.

[milkiepie]

prom - kita shinsuke

the tapping sound from my pen clearly surrounds the room. i'm nervously, anxiously, and angrily tapping the pen on my table. the situation even gets worse when he sits in front of me.

"look we could figure it out together—" i didn't give him a chance to finish his sentences.

"no, there is no 'we'. she's my patient so butt off"

he sighed loudly. shakes his head in disbelief.

"come on Y/N, don't make this kind of attitude right now. we're working together, she's my patient too. we need to work together to save her life" he explain, take a deep breath and continue.

"i promise you, we can save her. just give it some time for us to think about how to solve it. i promise—" i cutted his words again.

"promise? like how you promised me 7 years ago to take me to our last high school prom?"

he frowned. he didn't understand why i suddenly brought up this topic while we had another big case. i breath in deeply and let it out slowly.

"you know what, nevermind. let's proceed to Yuki's surgery. from what we got from the er just now, shows that her back of the head scattered badly from the accident. we need to set up a proper surgery to close the wound and need more blood for her." i explained.

Kita Shinsuke didn't say a word after what i said to him as he understood we needed to focus on our case immediately. Kita nods and writes down things that we both discuss. during the discussion, there are also a few nurses that will help us with Yuki's surgery.

after hours of the surgery process—

i left the surgery room and went straight away to the counter for the patient's update. i'm grateful that we successfully saved someone's life.

after everything is settled, i walk off to my room and pack all my stuff to go home. my shift is already finished hours ago but because of the emergency case, i need to stay for a while.

once i walk out of my room, a tall figure not far from here standing still and his eyes lock in to my room. i ignore him and walk quickly. i need to get out before anything happens between us.

"Y/N! wait! Y/N!" he called my name several times and i tried my best to ignore him.

eventually i gave up.

"what?"

"our discussion has not finished yet. i don't get it. why? why now after 7 years?" he asked genuinely curious.

i sighed. "we better not talk here."

we both now walk side by side quietly at the hospital park. it's been 3 minutes of our walk, none of us let out a single word. a sighed let out from Kita's mouth.

"speak Y/N"

"you wanna know why now after 7 years? i'm the one who should i ask you why."

"what do you mean?"

"you left me Shinsuke. you promised me to go to the prom together. i waited for you in front of my house for hours. i called you so many times. when i was at school the next day you were not there. where have you been Shinsuke?" tears started to fill my eyes as the flashback flashed through my mind.

"the next thing i know we lost contact and you were gone without saying goodbye. i don't know where you are and where to find you. it hurts me a lot Shinsuke. i bought the dress just for you to call me with those pretty compliments. i was about to tell you how i feel about you but you were not there" the tears drop off from my eyes.

Kita's dull brown eyes look at me deeply. the eyes that i miss so much but hurt to look at it.

"and 5 years later you suddenly appeared in my life back at the medschool, we even have the same intern place and now we're working in the same hospital. that hurt me a lot after my heart had healed. because these feelings keep flying around my body and it can't stop." that's my last call.

"where do you go Shinsuke? why...?" i cry. i let out the painful feeling that i kept in front of him.

Kita hugged me tightly. the feel of his warm embrace made my tears fall down even more, because i do remember how his last hug felt.

"i'm sorry Y/N..." he said quietly.

"i wanted to tell you the same thing that you thought that night. but i was a fool to think about it. i don't deserve such a girl like you. you're everything that a man would want... and i heard your conversation with Atsumu about love. he liked you and the way you look up to him makes me feel that i don't deserve you. i'm scared if that night he would confess to you in front of everyone so ran away."

he paused for a while.

"but this feeling of wanting you more than just a friend, the needy feeling, the passion feeling, the love won't stop since then. i want you Y/N. i want to hear you voice, i want to touch you, i want to be near you but i'm just a guy who is lack of something...? i feel so incomplete for some reason you need someone who is complete in everything."

i break the hug and look at him with teary eyes. i slapped his cheek hard and his face looks shocked. he rubs slowly his cheek.

"that was dumb! that was dumb of you to leave me because you were insecure. i rejected Atsumu after the confession because i like you Shinsuke" i explained

"you do..?like really really do?"

"yes."

a smile appears on Kita's face, both of his cheeks turn red and his hands immediately grab my hands.

"does the feeling still exist now?" he asked.

i nod, sheepishly smile. i do like him, i love him up until now. the move on phase took me years to heal and accept the fact he won't come back but the feeling is still here.

"it will be even more great if the feelings are mutual"

as he said, he slowly came close to my face to lean for a kiss. a soft yet romantic kiss from Kita Shinsuke declared our relationship as more than just a friend.

"i love you, Y/N".

[danggirlronpa]

FAQ

Now that we’ve got some of the Big Long FAQ Content out of the way, we can finally post an FAQ for The People! This will be updated as needed.

Last updated 7/7/2024.

Who exactly are you?

You can call me Peach! I got into Danganronpa when the Game Grumps started playing it, and haven’t quite been able to drop the interest since. I’m a 26-year-old nonbinary lesbian, and I’m currently working towards a career in video games. It's just me running this thing, so please be patient waiting for me to get back to you!

There’s a post I want you to reblog/I made something that would fit on this blog/I found something I think you should see.

Awesome! Please send a link through the submission box – I’ll take it from there! Note that it may take some time for any posts to show up on the blog. I also try to keep the blog relatively safe to browse in public, so I reserve the right not to post anything that I judge as too risque.

You are also free to @ me on posts, but keep in mind that Tumblr's blog tagging doesn't always work for me; submitting is generally the safer way to do it!

Will you tag for [X]?

I will tag anything upon request. This does not have to be triggering content - I do my best to tag all characters and ships within the post so they're easy to block or track. If the current tag is difficult to blacklist, I would be happy to add another tag! I will never ask why you want something tagged. If you send the ask off anon or request I not post it, I will answer the ask privately/add the tag without posting the ask. If I ever fail to tag something that I usually tag, please inform me right away.

You can find a full list of current trigger tags under the Blog Policies!

What's with the "for anon (:" tag?

There are a few blog policies that have generated some pretty nasty messages in my inbox. To save me the headache and my followers the annoyance, I make it a personal policy not to respond to them; instead, I just quietly reblog the content again and move on. These topics include:

Chihiro on the blog. You can find the reasoning in this post! The quick version is that I personally find most Chihiro headcanons perfectly valid, but due to the transphobia inherent in their canon depiction, it is important to me to acknowledge the popular fandom reclamation of the character as a trans girl.

Miyadera/Sister Shinguji. I outlined my full opinion on this here, and this is an important follow up! The quick version is that the degree of violence people wish on Miyadera makes me extremely uncomfortable considering her lack of canonical presence, and it reminds me of famous misogyny-driven character hate.

Will you still tag those topics for blacklisting?

Absolutely! The 'for anon :)' tag is to discourage aggressive asks, not to mock anyone who has issues with the subject.

A post where skin was lightened wasn't tagged/you tagged a post for whitewashing but it wasn't lighter than the canon skin color! Why do you keep doing that?

I have a TERRIBLE time distinguishing colors. I'm one of those people who has a ton of difficulty telling shades of the same color apart, and it's even more difficult for me to eyeball when they've changed the tints but not the lightness. You're just gonna have to tell me anytime a post like this comes up ): Sorry for the inconvenience!

Why do you reblog [X] type of "problematic" ship, but not [Y]?

Danggirlronpa sits somewhere on the line between an archiving project and a fanblog. Over the years, I’ve seen many fanworks and fandom history lost due to blog deletion and movement across platforms. This blog is intended to preserve all of this content for newer audiences and maintain an easy-to-use interface. As a preservation project, I try not to impose too many moral restrictions on what I reblog, even when it makes me personally uncomfortable. However, since this isn’t a professional archiving project, I’ve allowed myself one or two arbitrary standards for things that truly cross the line towards what I personally find uncomfortable.

If this is a project for archiving F/F ships, why do you reblog posts with just one girl?

Due to the nature of some girls’ popularity in fandom, there is a huge discrepancy in the amount of content for each of them. To even that playing field a little bit, I tend to reblog content for less appreciated girls, even if it isn’t actively sapphic.

What about why you reblog whitewashing?

Whitewashing and other forms of covertly racist, homophobic, and transphobic expressions in art are an important thing to archive because they show us the ugly side of fandom. For all four notably dark-skinned girls in DR, even after getting notably less engagement than their light-skinned peers, deleting every post that lightens their skin would cut their presence on this blog by half.

Ultimately, this blog aims to preserve the ugly parts of DR and its fandom, too, whether that be giving dark-skinned characters monkey companions in official merch, Atua jokes, trans Chihiro discourse, or blind hatred of "bitchy" female characters. While uncomfortable, they are something to note and learn from. If any existing tags do not help keep these off your dash in the event you don't want to see them, I highly encourage you to ask me to tag in a way that will be easy for you to block!

The OP/person you reblogged this from is problematic!

I have, in the past, been harassed due to the spread of misinformation through call out posts and other word-of-mouth. The harassment I experienced led to a suicidal relapse, and I still have a great deal of trauma from it. As a result, I am very cautious about asks like this. You are always free to send me information about someone questionable in the community, but please know that I will generally handle the issue quietly, and will not directly respond to you about it at all if you are on anon.

How do you feel about X current event issue?

Unless I have overwhelming approval to do so from followers, which I would only ask for in the event of a charity or benefit project, this blog will be a permanent safe space from real world issues. I may talk about oppression that I have personally experienced, but I will not bring up major current events.

For the same reason, please do not ever expect a DNI from me. I reserve the right to refuse discussion about anything, and block anyone, that I choose. While this is a project to help others, I feel strongly about setting my own boundaries, and will exercise my right to do so!

My question still isn't on here!

Drop it in the ask box! My messages have previously gone completely offline, so asks are the safest way to reach me.

[lildevyl]

Tommy Innit's Secret Clinic: UPDATE

Hey, Guys, Gals, Demons, Ghouls and Multi-Fandom Fiends! I'm back but with an update instead of a theory! So, I've been meaning to post this for some time but every time I sat down, to write. Something keeps coming up or I just couldn't find the "Right Words" to write so I'm just going to Write!

I know many of you have been waiting to about Tommy Innit's Secret Clinic, and it's been almost a year since I've updated Secret Clinic. For those of you who have been patiently waiting, THANK YOU! I can't tell you how much I appreciate that! Which leads me to this. And before anyone starts to PANIC! NO, I'm not Discontinuing, Abandoning, Orphaning, or Deleting the story! I AM going to finish it!

Also, the tags that I will be using from here on out for Tommy Innit's Secret Clinic, #tommy innit's secret clinic, #TISC, #secret clinic, #Tommy Innit's Secret Clinic, #Secret Clinic, #tisc

BUT I want to address a few things first!

The Main Reason why I haven't updated at all is because I honestly haven't had the chance to! I'm back in school trying to get my degree and with things going on at work. Plus, a ton of IRL Stuff, has been popping up at the worst times! So I haven't had any time to actually sit down and write! Let alone sit down and draw any fanart!

I hit some Major Writer's Block! To the point that I actually tried NOT to write because I couldn't write anything or it was just absolute GARABE that I didn't even save in my Idea/Save For Later/Free Writing Folder. Which is another reason why it's been taking me so long!

I know all of you if not a majority of you already know what's been going on with the whole Willaim Gold (I refuse to call him by his Character/Stage Name!). And that's another major reason why it's been taking me a long ass while. YES! I know it's about the Characters NOT the Content Creators! I know that and fully believe that! Trust me! It's taken me many years to figure that out and still enjoy the Movies/Shows/Books that I love!

HOWEVER, I do have a Couple OC's that are based on a couple of Mutals of mine. I did reach out to them and they have politely and respectfully asked me to not have the Characters in the story. So, what I'm going to do is, I'm going to re-edit Tommy Innit's Secret Clinic.

Way too many Spelling/Grammer Mistakes that I'm too embarrassed and can't believe that I missed!

I'm going to re-write and change a couple of Characters.

I'm going to Repost Tommy Innit's Secret Clinic on Tumblr after done re-editing it.

With that said, if anyone would like to be tagged for the story, please let me know! Either tag me, DM me, or just drop in my inbox what user name you want me to tag!

HOWEVER IF, you are NOT Comfortable with the Character Wilbur Soot, no matter the reason. Here is a list of the tags that from here on out on all Social Media Platforms including AO3. I will be using them for the Character Wilbur Soot. If you are Uncomfortable about the Character, you are more then welcome to block the tags so as to NOT see the posts!

Tags for Character Wilbur Soot:

#c!Wilbur Soot

#c!Wilbur

#DSMP! Wilbur Soot

#DSMP! Wilbur

#L'Manbur

#L'Manburg Wilbur Soot

#L'Manburg Wilbur

#Pogtopiabur

#Pogtopia Wilbur

#Pogtopia Wilbur Soot

#Revivebur

#Revive Wilbur

#Revive Wilbur Soot

#Ghostbur

#Villain Wilbur

#Villain Wilbur Soot

#Siren!Wilbur

#Siren!Wilbur Soot

#Siren Wilbur

#Siren Wilbur Soot

#Hero!Wilbur

#Hero Wilbur Soot

#QSMP! Wilbur

#QSMP Wilbur Soot

#q! Wilbur

#q! Wilbur Soot

#QSMP Wilbur Soot

#q Wilbur

#q Wilbur Soot

#Sorry Boys Wilbur Soot

#Sorry Boys Wilbur

#Sorry Wilbur

#Sorry Wilbur Soot

Again, if you are Uncomfortable about the Character Wilbur Soot feel free to block these tags! These will be the ones that I will be using from here on out!

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Wreckless - Shaken... not Stirred

*Warning Adult Content*

Finnegan

I spend most of Saturday in Zoom meetings and on the cell-phone.

By six p.m. I realize that as much as I hate it... I won't be going to Emmett's tomorrow.

I call and he says he understands when I tell him I have a big project due Monday but I know he's hurt.

Same, except I'm also not and that's the problem.

He says to call tomorrow if anything changes and I promise to but even though I want nothing more than to go over there for an hour, it wouldn't be quick.

We'd have mind-blowing sex and then we'd eat and cuddle and he'd take such good care of me that I wouldn't be able to leave.

That can't happen.... I don't even make time for mass on Sunday but my father calls later in the afternoon.

He wants an update which he more than deserves but since I'm expressly going against his wishes... I'm not sure what to say.

No, things aren't quite wrapped up here.

No, I don't need him to call the moving company... I'll handle it when I'm ready.

Yes, I know I have to give the apartment office one weeks notice.

Of course I'll get the car cleaned before I return it, especially since I dropped some fries in it earlier this week.

It's not like I've never done this before.

He thinks I'm stressed from the fire.. I am.

He wants to make sure I know that no one blames me and I shouldn't think I could have done something... I know.

They're thinking of me and love me... Same.

My team pulls together and by Sunday evening we have two bids cleared by the lawyers and ready to go.

Monday morning I sleep in a bit and then drive down to personally hand deliver our bids.

I call that afternoon to find out when we'll hear anything and the news knocks me over.... Three weeks.

It will be three weeks... What am I going to do with myself for three weeks?

The answer is obvious... go home.

I call Emmett and he says he'll be home by 6:30 p.m.

That's a bit late for him but it's been over a week since we spent actual quality time together so I'll be patient... Well, I'll try.

I plan on giving him until seven o'clock so I don't pounce on him as soon as he gets home but I pull up at 6:45 and can't stand the thought of waiting in my car.

I knock on his door.

He looks tired but smiles at me.

"Hey darling, get in here."

I obey gladly.

"I'm just starting dinner, can you stay?"

I haven't had decent food in days.

"Yeah, that would be great."

"So, mission complete? Project finished?" he asks.

He doesn't know the specifics but it's kind of him to ask.

"Submitted. Now I have to wait three weeks to hear back."

I sit at the table in the kitchen and he brings me over a drink.

"Thanks."

He pulls stuff out of the fridge and I try to figure out what he's going to make.

"I don't want to assume but does the whole lack of a factory and this three week timeline mean that you get some time off? Or is it on to the next project?"

I wasn't sure how I was going to bring this up but he's given me the perfect opportunity...  I hate the words I'm about to say. 

"It means I'm in limbo and I should head back to Michigan until they decide."

"Oh. Right. You mentioned going back," his voice is eerily calm and I can't get a read on him.

What is he thinking?

"Will you be coming back to Baltimore?"

This is the hard part.

"I want to."

"But?"

"It probably depends on what happens in three weeks, Emmett. I'm sorry."

If I get one of the contracts I'll have some bargaining room with my father and the board and will do everything I can to convince them to change their minds.

If I don't... there's nothing I can do.

I'm the vice-president until my father retires and I will go and do what he and the board think I should.

There will be another factory to open, other deals to make, other products to develop.

"I want to come back."

"That's nice but it doesn't mean much, apparently. You know, with all your money you'd think..."

"What?"

"It's just that your money sure does buy nice stuff but it doesn't seem to be buying you much happiness or freedom. What's the point if you can't use it for stuff that really matters?"

He's right, money comes with strings and there are lots of things it can't buy but...

"It'll buy plane tickets, we can see each other."

He sort of grunts at me.

"Yeah, sure. Hope you like stir-fry."

"I do... I love it."

He's thawing some shrimp which is definitely one of my favorites.

This will be good.... And it is... It's stuffed full of perfectly good vegetables, the rice is perfectly cooked and the sauce is great.

We're almost finished when he asks...

"When are you leaving?"

"I have to pack up the apartment and return my car so probably Wednesday?"

I could get it all done tomorrow if I had to but I don't really have to.

Besides, it means one more evening with Emmett.

"Can I stay tonight?"

He looks at me, hard, stares until I almost break down.

"Maybe it's best if you don't. Besides, all your stuff is at your place, right?"

Oh. Okay.

"Um, maybe tomorrow?"

"I'm working late, sorry. I hope you have a safe trip back home, Finnegan. I had a wonderful time, really. I can't even tell you how much."

He doesn't have to, I know.

He's giving me the brush off but how can I blame him when I'm the one leaving?

"I did too. This isn't the end of us, Emmett, I hope it isn't."

"Sometimes it's best to move on, Finnegan. Hanging onto the past just hurts. I'll wait three weeks. If you can come back and stay, I'd really like that darling. If not, well, it is what it is."

He stands up and takes both of our plates to the sink.

I think it's time for me to go while I can still see through the tears that are forming.

I've been kicking myself since he walked out the door that night.

He practically threw himself at my feet and admitted that he needed me which is always hard for him.

He was exhausted and desperate for some love and attention and care and all I could manage to offer him was a meal.

I'd already shut down and put us in a box in the back of my closet and I couldn't bring myself to torture either of us with another amazing night.

Part of me hoped he'd change his mind.

That he'd call me Tuesday saying he couldn't do it, he didn't want to leave me and then beg my forgiveness for making me feel like I didn't really matter to him.

I had this fairy-tale ending in my head where he moved in here and we were a happy 'little' family.

Little... even that doesn't make me smile.

He's been gone for two weeks.

He's sent a few texts, letting me know he was home safe and that he was thinking of me.

I responded but kept my distance because it hurts.

Thinking about him makes me ache in all sorts of ways and probably will for awhile.

Everything at home reminds me of him.

The stupid, adorable towels that he sent are in my linen closet.

I have his tiny sheep undies because they were in the laundry and I haven't even reclaimed his drawer yet.

His bendy cups and Spiderman cup are in my cupboard. 

I can barely stand to spend time on my couch, honestly.

We watched movies, snuggled and fucked on that couch.

The problem is that he's everywhere, my kitchen and bed included.

I can't even do laundry without thinking about him.

So I've been spending a lot of time at the bowling alley and work, hitting the gym more than I have in months and doing everything I can think of to avoid going home.

Peter has been staring at me all morning but he probably thinks I haven't noticed.

Please.

I survived for years in war zones by paying attention.

No, we all paid attention... I just got lucky.

"You and Finnegan want to come over this weekend?"

That's a hard question but it's time to come out with it.

I guess I just assumed that Finnegan had told Tristan.

"He went back to Michigan."

"Oh. Well that explains a lot. How long is he gone for?"

It does? Am I that bad? Maybe.

"Probably forever."

That gets his attention and he walks over.

"What? What happened?"

It's a long story but it all boils down to the fact that...

"He was never supposed to stay."

He just left sooner than I thought he would.

"But you two are so good together. My God... I almost left Tristan in Michigan when I came here. Can't believe I was so stupid. I thought we were too new so I didn't ask him to come. Did you ask him to stay, Emmett?"

"It wouldn't have changed anything. He's waiting to hear news about some, some thing and if it comes through he might be back. I don't really know how it all works but he didn't sound all that optimistic."

"Are you thinking about going there?"

Huh?

"To Michigan?"

No, why would I?

For Finn, of course but my whole life is here, just like his is there, except it's not.

He'd be leaving for months or years at a time to go open new factories and then what?

I'd just hang around and wait for him in Michigan?

No thank you.

"Yeah, it's not bad. Winters are tough but you two can come up with ways to stay warm."

Yeah. Not happening.

"He didn't invite me... he mentioned a visit but not... anything else."

He throws his hands up in the air but he's just goofing off.

"It's like you're not even listening to me."

I know he's trying to help but...

"We're not you and Tristan. It's complicated. Our dynamic is... it's unusual."

"So's ours. Just hate to see you moping around and upset, Emmett. Offer for this weekend is still open, it would probably be good for you to get out."

It would be.

"Can I let you know tomorrow?"

"Sure. And I'll have Tristan give Finnegan a call, see if he can weasel out some info for you."

That's not necessary but nothing I say will stop him.

Tristan will call once he finds out Finnegan's gone whether Peter has anything to do with it or not.

I can't imagine Tristan letting that one go.

A car pulls in and it saves me from answering and luckily the rest of the afternoon is busy.

Busy is very good lately.

[stsgooo]

hi don’t know if you remember me TT it’s been a while after all, but i’m the nom-anon!! (don’t worry if you don’t remember me. it’s fine, really! it’s been a while since that ask after all ^^)

I’m just dropping in your inbox again after all this time because i saw you posted your OC fic and OH MY GOD !! the prologue was so well-written it got me on my tiptoes from curiosity !! i loved how the prologue was paced (mostly the ‘Mercy’ part! that was awesome in my opinion, because it enhanced the character’s thoughts and gave more insight to the character at that point), it made me really feel a pang in the heart when i ended it. also the, and here i quote because i’m dumb and don’t know how to summarize with my own words, “What kind of mother killed their daughter and still accepted their declarations of love? What kind of mother masked mercy as love?”… my jaw was on the floor 🗣️

can’t wait to meet Hibiki and see how it’ll go from here on tbh! i’ll patiently sit and wait for next updates (no pressure! take all the time you need, please) <3 merry late christmas or if you don’t celebrate, happy (late?) holidays! hope you had a wonderful time and rested and eat a lot aside having fun (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

p.s.: sorry for the long ask TT

OMG HI NOM ANON!! I do remember you !! :3

I'm so so glad you enjoyed the prologue!! I was a bit worried that it was a little too vague and/or repetitive for people, but I'm so happy it's been received well so far! :) The mercy part is actually one of the first things I wrote for the prologue, just something I thought would be silly to include in it. IM SO HAPPY YOU LIKED IT THO!!

I have the next chapter written, but I'm tweaking it a lot before I actually update it :3 I unfortunately take a while to update things so I hope you can hold out!! I can't wait to hear from you again, nom-anon! Happy belated holidays and take care you're too sweet! Also don't apologize for long asks it makes me so happy to hear from everyone!! :D <3

[bi-bard]

Old Letters - Rafael Barba Imagine (Law & Order: SVU)

Title: Old Letters

Pairing: Rafael Barba X Reader

Word Count: 1,352 words

Warning(s): mentions of violent threats (non-descriptive)

Summary: A threat from (Y/n)'s past starts causing problems again and no one is allowing them to take it on alone.

Author's Note: I've watched a lot of this show over the last few days.

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

I hadn't noticed that I was acting differently. Not at first, at least.

I had snapped at the team a few times. I knew that much. But I assumed it was my mind focusing on the case. I was taking it seriously. That was a good thing. That was always a good thing, wasn't it?

I thought so until I made it to Rafael's office with Liv to discuss what we had found.

"It's conclusive evidence," I said.

"To us, to a jury...," Rafael trailed off.

"Always assuming the worse," I muttered.

"It's my job," he replied, standing from his chair. "I have to be able to see where potential landmines are."

"No, you just like operating on the idea that the jury is going to be full of assholes," I snapped. "Because then, when you get a good verdict, it inflates your ego because look at you, you made the assholes show empathy for a victim-"

"(Y/n)."

I looked at Liv when she spoke. Her eyes were wide. I had never acted like this before, especially not with Rafael. The two of us were always close, even before we had started our relationship.

"We'll go," she said simply. "We'll call with any updates."

I took a deep breath before going to follow her out. She made it out the door before Rafael spoke up.

"(Y/n), wait-"

"Rafael, I have work," I said, trying to wave him off.

"And your work has never resulted in you snapping at me or anyone on your team," he replied. "Especially, not like that. Something is different about this case."

"Nothing is different. I am perfectly fine. I have to go."

He grabbed my hand to get me to stop. "Please, talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about," I pulled his hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles. "I'm okay."

"You very clearly aren't."

I dropped his hand. "You don't get to decide that."

I walked out before he could question me any further. I only stopped in the doorway.

I tried to go about the rest of the case like nothing was affecting me. It seemed to work for the most part. If anyone noticed something, then they didn't say it.

I held onto everything until the court case was over.

After that, it was like any wall I had broke down. No more distractions. I had to confront what was happening.

I had managed to change into some more comfortable clothes and get to my window before it all came crashing down.

I almost felt stupid as I placed my hand over my mouth and started crying. It was all just fear. That was the only real explanation that I had for sobbing like this.

"(Y/n)?"

I took a deep breath and wiped my eyes when I heard Rafael walk in. The only person that I trusted with a key. He told me that he was coming over tonight.

"Hey," he said softly. I heard him setting some stuff down before walking closer. I turned around to face him. "What's wrong?"

"You were right," I admitted, blinking away a fresh wave of tears. "I... I'm not okay."

I folded in on myself a bit as I sobbed.

"Hey..."

He walked over and pulled me into a hug, letting me cry into his shoulder. I tried to focus on stopping the tears. I didn't want to sit here and feel sorry for myself. Rafael was too nice to me. He didn't complain, didn't ask questions, didn't shush me. He just held me and waited. Too patient.

I eventually leaned back, avoiding any eye contact as I leaned on the window. I only looked over at him when he leaned on the window next to me. He offered me a small grin as he grabbed my hand.

Again, too nice.

"This guy," I tried to explain. "It was the first guy I caught with S.V.U. He got off easy considering what had done. A few years, maybe. Should've been longer. Now... he's being released. This case... the timing... made everything spark back up again. Those feelings that come from your first case."

"Okay," Rafael nodded. "There's more."

"He wrote me a letter when he first got sentenced," I continued. "He had a plan ready for when he got out. Pretty... detailed. I'm the one that cuffed him, I'm the one he's after."

"Does anyone else know about that letter?"

"I was stupid and embarrassed and scared. The guy had my address."

"(Y/n)-"

"I thought it was weak," I cut him off. "I... I figured I had enough time that he would give up."

"And then?"

"Another letter was placed under my windshield."

"(Y/n)-"

"Stop scolding me, we were in the middle of a case."

"You're staying with me," he shrugged.

"No," I scoffed. "I'm fine. I can handle this."

"This wasn't a question," he said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. "I'm calling Benson. You need the team to back you."

"I don't-"

"Please."

I paused when I saw the look on his face. He was typically calm, calculated even. This was not that. This was fear. Pure fear. I nodded and went to pack a bag.

Benson was waiting when we got to Rafael's apartment.

"Liv," I groaned.

"You needed to talk to me."

"I had it handled-"

"No, you didn't."

I looked down. I deserved the bluntness of her response.

"We need the letters."

I sighed. "My desk at my place. Top drawer. I hid them in some old conference pamphlet."

"Thank you."

"Come on," Rafael placed his hand on my back, leading me inside. My bag was thrown over his shoulder.

We didn't talk for a little while. I put my bag down next to his bed and sat on the edge of it. I looked around the room, trying to become more accustomed to it. He walked into the room a little while later.

"I've never stayed here overnight," I said, trying to lighten the mood. "I just figured you liked my place better."

He chuckled. It made me grin.

"I'm sorry for how I treated you earlier," I mumbled as he stood next to his dresser, probably finding empty drawers for me to use. "I don't actually think that you're obsessed with your ego. I should never have said. I shouldn't have snapped at you at all. You have been nothing but good to me. I am so, so sorry."

He turned back to look at me. There was still a gentle grin on his face. I wish he would just be mad at me once. Not always so understanding. I never thought that I deserved it.

"I forgive you," he said. A bit of weight rolled off my shoulders. Thank God.

"And I'm sorry that I didn't tell you. About the threats."

"I'm not upset with you over that," he shook his head, sitting next to me. "I wish you had told me, yes, but it's not your fault."

I reached over and grabbed his hand. "Thank you."

He kissed the side of my head. "Need anything? I could order something."

"Sleep," I chuckled. "I need sleep. I've been running off caffeine and very little sleep through this whole case."

"Make yourself comfortable, I'll be right back."

I nodded at him as he stood up.

I was curled up under the covers by the time Rafael joined me He chuckled at the sight of me almost hiding under the blanket.

"You tricked me," I muttered as I wrapped my arms around his torso. "This bed is much nicer than mine. You should've told me."

"My apologies," he replied, pulling me closer to him.

I chuckled and relaxed. He leaned over and kissed my forehead.

"It's going to be alright," he mumbled against my skin. "We're gonna keep you safe. The team is gonna keep you safe."

"I know," I said. "I trust you. And them, but mainly you."

"I love you."

"I love you too," I grinned at him.

I fell asleep soon after that, actually feeling safe for the first time in days.

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

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Okay but Karasuno definitely send their kids to the primary school that Suga teaches at and Y/N definitely has to spend every 0.003 seconds telling her crow hubby that he can’t call Suga to check on their child.

Ugh I'm having so much fun with this Dad! Haikyu series 😫😫😫 please Suga is regretting his decision to become a teacher when his besties kids start showing up 😅

*please keep these coming I need them all 😫

Daichi

Definitely the WAY over protective dad

Has scoped out the entire school for imitate threats

You probably have to take his phone because he will be texting Suga every hour for an update

"YN he hasn't responded in 3 hours, I definitely think it's rime I head down to the scho," Daichi says as you stand in front of the door, barring your husband from leaving

"He probably blocked you babe because uou keep harassing him!" You said a shout husband scoffs and walks away

"I could barely trust Suga back in high-school with the team and he was my vice captain! How do you expect me to trust him with our child?" Your husband shouts as you roll your eyes.

"First off, our 5 year old is way more mature than Hinata and Kageyama combined and secondly, Suga went to school to be a teacher and he's good at it! Let the man do is job!" You shout as your husband's phone chimes and he races to get it.

Suga: your kid did fine DADCHI 🙄

Your husband smiles at the text, knowing he can rest a little easier knowing his kid is in good hands.

Asahi

God he's so nervous

Your daughter is HIS support system 😅

He probably throws up right after he gets her on the bus

You watch as your husband sits on the front porch. It's still 2 hours before your daughter is set to return but he's patiently waiting. You walk outside and sit next to him, pulling him close for a side hug.

"You know, you kind of look like a lost kid just sitting out here," you laugh as your husband glares in your direction.

"What if the bus comes early YN? What if they forget to drop her off? OH MY GOD WHAT IF THEY GIVE HER TO A DIFFETENT FAMILY?!?!" Your husband shouts, catastropizing the entire situation.

"Honey, she will be fine! She knows our address and phone number. Plus Daichi is a cop and Suga is her teacher, she will be fine! We have backup," you say trying to calm your husband's nerves.

"I guess, she's just so little and I'm just scared for her," he says as you kiss his cheek softly.

"She's tougher than you think! Look at who her dad is. Mr. Big tough former ace!" You say as your husband smiles at you.

He's not sure what he would do without you besides panic himself into oblivion 🥰

Tsukishima

The most logical of them all

He's excited because his sons excited

In reality he's up late text Yamguchi in sheer panic 😅

"Maybe we should wait another year? I mean he's barely 5," you husband says as you turn to look at him.

"Kei he turned five 7 months ago, he is ready," you say as you wave to your son as he heads into school.

"Yeah but YN, he already knows how to write all his letters, numbers and he's learning sight words. Maybe we can skip kindergarten and just wait until, oh I don't know, 4th grade?" Your husband says looking at you.

"Pretty sure we can't keep him out of school Kei, that's illegal," you say as you turn to leave and your husband pulls out his phone, "what are you doing?"

"Texting Daichi, he's a cop so he would know right?" Kei says as you roll your eyes, grabbing your husband and pulling him back to the car.

Please drive him home YN or else he will wait for your son all day outside of the school 🥺

[unluckyhoneybee]

Am I allowed to ask for a Arthur Leclerc request? A smitten at first sight but oblivious to each other’s affections? 😅 it’s okay if not

Of course, you can. Let's see what I can do.

You had been working for Ferrari for a couple of weeks, helping Charles with everything he needed. Like an assistant. It wasn't your dream job, but it was a good start. Charles was really nice and chaotic.

One day, you were waiting for him to come and get ready for the race. He said something about going to say hi to his brother Arthur who also had a race that weekend. But he was running late.

Finally, you heard his voice. Well, not actually his voice. But almost the same. You turned around to see a blonde guy walking in your direction. He was cute. Really cute. He had those beautiful eyes, dirty blonde hair and a huge smile. But... he reminded you of someone.

"Are you YN?" You nodded slowly, not being able to take your eyes off him. He was so handsome. "I'm Arthur. Charles told me to meet him here. He had to go to the garage" He said with the cutest French accent ever. "Oh. Okay." "He will be here in a second."

Charles had told you about Arthur once or twice, but you weren't expecting him to be like this.

Both of you waited patiently in silence. You could see him looking at you not so discretely. Even if he was trying. You caught him every time. Your cheeks would get warm each time.

"Hey guys, sorry. Mattia wanted to talk to me. He is Arthur, my brother." "I already introduced myself, Charles"

From that point, Arthur and you started getting closer. Every time he came to visit Charles or to see him race, you would navigate to each other. You developed feelings for him way too fast for your liking. But he was just too nice to you and too cute to avoid it. And if you thought Charles was chaos... Arthur was even more.

"Hey, I brought some coffee to you". He said sitting in a stole to watch the free practices. "Thank you, Arthur" I have some super healthy pastries made by myself. Charles has a green light to eat them, so I suppose you have it too" You passed him one of your cupcakes and he smiled at you.

Things like that were common between you since almost the first time you met. Whenever it rained, he had an umbrella for me. If he couldn't come to a race, I would keep him updated during the whole weekend. If I needed a lift home, he would get his car ready. When he had a bad race, I would cook something for him so Charles could give it to him. But that's what friends were for, right?

It was extra rainy today and the humidity was getting into your bones. The free practice finished and you both went to see Charles. He had done really good and had a huge chance of winning the race. You shivered as the drops of water fell.

"Oh. Here. Have this." Arthur took his jacket off and put it over your shoulders.

"No, no. Arthur, you will get ill" "No, I won't. This hoodie is warmer than your shirt"

You smiled a bit. He was too sweet. "Thank you, Arthur"

He smiled as you put your arms in the sleeves. He then put the hood over your head. You felt your heart beating fast.

Back at Charles' motorhome, Arthur was already gone. He had something to do with his own team.

"What's going on with Arthur and you?"

"Nothing" You looked up from your phone, where you had just sent the boy in question a good luck message.

Charles laughed a little. "You both are too cute". "Why do you say that?" "Are you really that oblivious, YN?"

You stayed silent looking at him. Oblivious about what? Did Arthur have the same feelings as you?

Charles sighed with a tiny smile. "Just go for it, YN"

You felt your heart beating faster and faster. Was it true?

"Should I?"

Charles nodded. You got up and hugged him. "It will be okay, YN. I promise"

Late that day, you were looking for Arthur all around. You needed to find him. You were decided to act on your feelings.

You saw him from afar and he was talking to Charles. They seemed to be having a serious conversation. You didn't want to intrude, so you walked slowly giving them enough time to spot you. Charles did first, looking at you very smiley. He punched his younger brother's shoulder and pointed at you. Arthur turned and it was as if your breath had been taken away from you. You stayed on your spot, incapable of moving when he was looking at you with such fond eyes. Charles had to be right. You don't look at someone like that if she is just your friend. But how could have you gone so many months without even suspecting Arthur shared your feelings?

"Go there, petit" You heard Charles. Arthur nodded and walked directly to you. You took a few steps ahead before clashing with him. He grabbed your face with his hands and you hugged his waist. Finally, after so long, he kissed you. His lips were so sweet and they moulded so perfectly with yours. It felt like a dream. His lips and tongue moved against yours in the sweetest kiss you've ever had.

And when you broke apart you couldn't stop smiling. "I like you a lot, YN" "I like you too, Arthur"

"What a pair of idiots". Charles said walking away.

[scientiastudy]

Lay All Your Love On Me (Chapter XII)

Chapter I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI.

The gears begin turning...

Word Count: 2k

Rating: T?

Content: Manipulation, general creepiness, fluff and angst, reincarnation, (brief) graphic depictions of violence

Author's note: Heyyyyy lol sorry for the late update and sorry for the lack of posts. I'm moving cross country soon so I'm busier than normal. Also I want to make it very clear that Ardyn and Reader are unreliable narrators! I figured I'd put that disclaimer because sometimes that's harder to figure out.

“I think I love you.”

The sweet words ring out in the room like a gunshot. It must have been, after all, with the way his heart clenches and soars in his chest as a grin grows on his face.

It’s different from the way she said it, full of hesitance and a raw innocence that nearly brings him to his knees. Your cheeks are dark, your teeth gnawing at your plush bottom lip while you try to resist fidgeting. The adoration that flows through him at the sight is hot and all-consuming like a rain of holy fire. He’s flooded with the need to feel you, to hold you in his hands and never let you go.

He surges forward on pure instinct, flipping your positions so he can fit his hand against your waist as he kisses you into the couch. You feel perfect underneath him, and for a moment he wonders if you were handcrafted just for him. 

It takes almost everything in him to pull away from your lips, now swollen and glossy.  “You have absolutely no idea how ecstatic that makes me darling,” He sighs. “I’ve loved you since the second I saw you.”

You visibly light up at the words. The way you preen under his touch has his heart soaring again. You let out a sweet giggle, and he’s shocked for a moment when you initiate, pressing a quick peck to his lips before flopping back onto the couch. 

As wonderful and righteous that the love burning in his veins feels, there is an equally dark part of him that only seems to grow. He wants to possess you, to be your everything the same way you are his. The sick satisfaction that runs through him when the neckline of your dress drops just enough for him to see the lovebite he left on your skin is addicting. He wants everyone to know you are his, a queen to be coveted and admired from afar. 

He’ll drape you in the kingdom’s finest jewels and silks, anything you’ll ask for will be yours. He’ll bring every Lucian to their knees at your feet as you sit on the throne, its rightful rulers. He’ll give you a life of luxury and safety, you’ll want for nothing. 

Sometimes his thoughts take a darker turn. Part of him yearns to keep you inside forever, trapped away from prying eyes to only be coveted by him. Sometimes the image of you chained to the bed comes unbidden into his mind, and his fantasies run away with his mind before he can even think to stop them.

He’ll build you your own perfect room in the Citadel looking over your kingdom. He’ll bring you all the books and entertainment you want, and you’ll look after the home while he’s gone. Of course, only his key would be able to unlock the door. He’ll make you something more fashionable than that clunk chain, something dainty and beautiful against your skin. You’ll want for nothing.

Because all you’ll want is him. 

He connects your lips in another kiss and it takes everything in him not to give in to the urge to consume you, to be everything you’ll ever think about. His fingers dig into the plush of your hips as he fights to contain himself.

He knows he isn’t a good man, at least not anymore. But, something makes him want to try for you. 

But a good man doesn’t kidnap women, doesn’t lie, doesn’t kill, doesn’t keep women captive, doesn’t punish sons for the sins of their fathers.

But he isn’t a good man. 

And yet here you are, kissing him as your hands roam over his arms. You’ve chosen to love him despite his shortcomings, despite the vacuous hole in his heart. A good man would be patient with you and wait for you to be ready before taking you. 

He can play the part of a good man. For now.

It almost feels redeeming, the way your mouth moves against him. You hold him with a gentleness he’s never known, your every touch and kiss addictingly sweet. You treat him the way no human would. Your hands are gentle and adoring against his arms where you cling to his biceps, the warmth of your palms seeping through the fabric of his coat. You look at him with adoration and love he’d long become resigned to never seeing again on the face of another.

Despite everything, you’re here. 

He forces himself to pull away from your lips, holding back a smirk at your heavy breaths and flushed face.

“One day you will be the death of me, darling,” He mutters. He flips you again, not sure how much willpower he has left when you look so tempting under him. You take the change in stride, and he smiles as he feels you settle against him again. Your face is snuggled into the junction between his neck and shoulder, your hair tickling against his chin. 

(You’re half hiding your face from embarrassment and half because you’re not quite sure what to do, but he doesn’t need to know that. After all, it’s not every day you get kissed silly by the Imperial Chancellor. At least not yet.)

He almost freezes as he feels your fingers gently comb through his hair, your nails dragging against his scalp. It’s so tender, so intimate that he feels the urge to push you off him. To run, like he’s been doing for so long. 

Since Verstael found him in that cursed place so long ago he’s always been performing. Whether it was the role of scientist, socialite, confidant, or strategist he’d played every role to perfection. He’d fashioned masks to cover his darkness, never becoming too attached to anyone throughout his time with the Empire. 

Everyone was simply a tool to him. Verstael is merely a means to an end, a pest he continues to favor for his influence and resources. The Emperor is nothing more than a puppet he whispers honeyed words to. After all, royal politics has changed so little through the ages. He’d learned to never grow too attached to anyone by focusing only on his plans, becoming all work and no play. It was simply a game, and he was only playing to win.

Until you.

The amount of love he feels terrifies him, consuming him in a destabilizing flash of fear. The thought of you leaving, of someone taking you, rips his heart in two. It’s a frightening feeling, and he resists the urge to run that had been so deeply ingrained in him for so many years. But he refuses to let that happen, refuses to let you suffer the same fate as her.

And so instead he forces himself to relax into the touch of your fingers in his hair, your hands tentative as they explore. Your hands are gentle as they card through his long auburn locks. The faint scratch of your nails against his scalp has him preening like a cat as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I love you, darling, always and forever.”

-

You’re fast asleep on top of Ardyn, nestled into his many layers of clothing like a happy cat. He isn’t sure how long you’ve been together like this; Maybe minutes, maybe hours. He’s been basking in the warmth of your touch, running his hands gently over every dip and curve of your body reverently as your chest rises and falls. 

You’re different. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about it, about her in years. He still remembers watching her be cut down, blood staining her white gown as she’d collapsed and the life had been sucked from her veins. 

It’s undeniable that you’re different, both physically and mentally from your predecessor. You have a fire in you, a spirit sharpened and honed from a cold and hard life. You are a tempered blade, tested and true. 

When he had first seen you, he hadn’t known how to feel about your differences. He’d worried you’d be different, that this was all some cruel trick by the gods.

But he’d seen the cracks in your armor when you’d sneak out behind the barracks to feed a stray cat the scraps of your dinner, or when you helped a comrade to the infirmary. It was the same sweetness and love he had seen all those centuries ago, but something about it was so uniquely you. 

And after all, who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

-

“Are we seriously going to do nothing?” Prompto says incredulously, and Ignis sighs as Gladio shakes his head.

“Iggy and I have a duty to Noct first, Prompto,” Gladio points out, sizing up the younger man as his agitation grows.

“I know!” He whines, throwing up his hands in desperation. “But we can’t just leave her with that maniac! I mean seriously, who knows what that sicko is doing to her!” 

“She understood the risks when she agreed to accompany us, Prompto. She swore the same oath to the crown as all of us,” Ignis retorts tiredly, rubbing his uninjured temple with a gloved hand.

The blond balks at his words, sputtering frustratedly. “Yeah, but Noct would say the same! You both know this!”

“Yes,” Ignis sighs. “Which is why Gladiolus and I would not be able to allow it. We are intended to help the Chosen King fulfill his duties, not to be hired hands. Part of that duty is sacrifice.” 

Prompto knows they’re right, but it doesn’t make him feel any better. Sure, you hadn’t known each other long but he’d grown fond of you over the time you’d spent together. It goes against everything he knows to leave someone behind like this, but what choice do they have?

“I can ask the Marshall to look into it,” Gladio sighs, immediately soothing Prompto’s nerves. He trusts the Marshall, they all do. If they can’t look for you, he’s the next best thing. 

“Don’t you think that may be a tad too personal for the Marshall?” Ignis asks, and Prompto’s ears perk up. 

“He’s all we have. He’s a professional, he can get the job done,” Gladio replies, already standing up to call the Marshall. Seemingly sensing Prompto’s curiosity, Ignis shakes his head before speaking.

“I do not enjoy divulging the personal matters of my colleagues, but our comrade was raised within the crownsguard by the Marshall and other soldiers. I do not know how close they were if they were at all, but it is always a risk when working with family.” 

The revelation shocks Prompto. The Marshall never seemed like a very parental figure, emotionally distant and hardened by years of battle. He can barely imagine the man having a life outside of work, let alone raising a child. 

He thinks back to if there were any clues he may have missed. You were miles ahead of him in terms of training, so he’d never seen much of you until you’d been assigned to accompany them. You always seemed alone and standoffish, not like someone who was given preferential treatment. 

“Huh.” Is all he can think to reply.

Outside, Gladio grimaces as he asks his superior for help. The Marshall’s tone betrays nothing as he agrees to the request, hanging up before Gladio can get a word in edgewise. Though he knows Ignis is right, guilt eats away at his gut every day. He was supposed to be a protector, and yet he hadn’t been there when you and Noct needed him most. 

But he can’t dwell on that now, not when he has a duty to fulfill. He can’t fail now, not when so much is on the line. 

He never quite imagined the price of duty would be this steep.