#Ignore the messed up marker on the full body

[cotton-kiwi-smoothie]

Queen Nerea Reimagined

I didn't think she was pretty enough compared to Leander. Also P E A R L S

[ziggyzolch]

Queen Bee-atch Ⅶ (Regina George x Reader)

Warnings: None, lighthearted chapter tbh

✮✮✮

The sound of a marker cap popping open echoes across the walls of Regina’s room. Squeaking could be heard from the other side of the house with how aggressively she was writing.

She ignores her mothers insistent knocking as she pulls out a pair of scissors and cuts the photo of her and Cady in half. Pulling out a glue stick, Regina aggressively sticks the photo in the middle of the page.

She takes a deep breath, calming herself down and sitting back to admire her work. ’This girl is the nastiest skank bitch I've ever met. Do not trust her. She is a fugly slut!’ Captioned above a picture of her stuck in the burn book.

Those byotches had no idea what was coming. ✮✮✮

This party was worse than anything she could’ve imagined. Someone broke her mothers vase, Gretchen and Karen wouldn’t leave her alone, and, worst of all, she threw up on Aaron!

“Aaron, wait!” Her heels were digging into the backs of her feet as she chased after her longtime crush, wiping the puke off her mouth.

Aaron angled his body towards Cady, walking backwards and pointing his finger at her, “You are a clone of Regina.”

Cady sighed before perking up, “Call me!”

Aaron ignored her, wiping her vomit off his shirt as he disappeared around the corner.

At the sound of a motor, Cady scrunches her eyebrows, turning towards the source of the mechanical whirring. She curses under her breath as she watches you, Damien, and Janis approach on a motor scooter.

“You dirty little liar.” Janis jumps off of the scooter, stomping towards Cady while you and Damien spin around, unable to stop the scooter.

“I’m sorry! I can explain-”

“Explain how you didn’t invite us to your party?”

You pipe up, “Janis, I’m getting dizzy!”

She glares at you as Cady replies, “I had to act like I hated you! You told me to pretend to be plastic.”

“This,” Janis looks Cady up and down, “Is not pretend. You’re plastic. Cold, hard, shiny plastic.”

Damien warns Janis about his curfew before she continues, “Did you have an awesome time? Did you drink awesome shooters and listen to awesome music and just sit around soaking up each others awesomeness?”

Cady’s face contorts in anger, “You made me like this! All because of some bullshit petty 6th grade drama!”

Janis scoffs, raising her arms up in exasperation, “Oh my god! At least me and Regina George know we’re mean. You still try to act all innocent! You got what you wanted. Aaron broke up with Regina, yet you still mess with her. You know why? Because you’re a mean girl! You’re a bitch!” She throws her artwork at Cady, “You can have this, it won a prize.”

Janis gets back onto the moving scooter, almost falling off when you shake the vehicle getting off. Cady’s eyes widen when she sees you rushing towards her, preparing herself for another scolding when you run past her into the house party. Janis and Damien groan, turning back around and spinning.

Cady’s eyes widen when she catches you walking out with two half full bottles of vodka.

“Alright, let’s go.” You jump back onto Damien's lap, adjusting your hold on the two bottles. Cady runs her hands through her hair, letting out a breath. She starts walking back into her house when she hears Damien's voice,

“I want my pink shirt back!”

✮✮✮

“Wanda literally solos all of…” You trail off when a group of girls rush past you gasping at their phones as you walk through the doors. You and Janis turn to each other in confusion before Damien runs up to both of you and drags you further into school. “Check what I sent you!”

Janis pulls out her phone at Damien’s request, her jaw dropping, “No. Fucking. Way.”

She turns her phone towards you. Squinting your eyes at her screen, you read,

“Damien, too gay to…function?! That's only okay when we say it!” You turn away from her phone, pointing and watching the commotion with your friends. Looking around, you ask,

“Have you guys seen Regina?”

Before either could answer, the sound of the fire alarm and sprinklers going off startles everyone.

“All junior girls report to the gymnasium, immediately! Immediately!”

Damien puts on his hood, before walking alongside you and Janis to the gym. Taking your seats on the bleachers at the back, you open your phone to look through the different pages of the burn book.

“Hah! Check this out: ‘Trang Pak is a grotsky little byotch’. It’s like a foreign language.” Janis and Damien giggle as you continue scrolling, ignoring the pang in your heart when you scroll past your own page, and scrunching your eyebrows in confusion at Regina’s. Didn’t she make this? Speaking of...

You stand up, looking around for her, when you catch Cady walking in awkwardly. She makes eye contact with you, offering you a little smile that you return. As shitty as what she did was, it wasn’t entirely on her. Plus she was about to go through way shittier with the way people kept staring at her.

She turns looks next to you, still smiling, when Janis catches her eye and flips her the bird.

The stare off was interrupted by Principal Duvall starting his speech, going on and on about how he oughta cancel our spring fling. You weren’t really paying attention until the end.

“Who has any lady problems they’d like to share?” You snort when you catch Gretchen pushing Karen's hand down.

Another girl you barely recognize raises her hand, “Somebody wrote in that book that I’m lying about being a virgin because I use super jumbo tampons,”

You, Janis and Damien start hitting each other, holding your noses and trying not to laugh when she continues, “I can’t help it if I’ve got a heavy flow and a wide set vagina.”

Your face was turning red, barely holding it together when Damien snorts. You bark out a laugh, slapping your hand over your mouth when everyone turns to look at you.

“Yeah, I can’t do this.” Principal Duvall sighs and urges Ms. Norbury to continue for him.

“Alright, everybody close your eyes,” She pauses, “Raise your hand if you’ve ever had a girl say something mean about you behind your back. Now open your eyes.”

You look around the room, everybody had their hands raised. She continues, “Close your eyes again. Raise your hand if you’ve ever said anything mean about a friend behind their back,”

You peek an eye open, raising your hand when you see everyone else's hands raised. You catch Regina doing the same. There she is. “Now open.”

You, Janis and Damien all collectively gasp when you see each other's hands raised.

“Seems like there’s been a little girl-on-girl crime here, let’s do a couple exercises...” Ms. Norbury had all of you confront your friends on what bothered you.

After a couple of confrontations and arguments, Regina stands up with her arms crossed, “Can I just say that I don’t think we have a clique problem at this school. Some of us don’t need to be here! We’re just victims.”

Ms. Norbury smiles, “That's probably true. How many of you have felt personally victimized by Regina George?” You slide down your chair, groaning in second-hand embarrassment when everybody raises their hands.

Janis rolls her eyes and pulls you back up to sit properly.

“Cady, is there anything you’d like to own up to?” Ms. Norbury calls out.

“No.” Cady replies

“You never made up a rumor about anyone?”

Cady looks around, shuffling in her seat, “No.”

“Nothing you want to apologize for?”

“...No.”

Ms. Norbury says something to Cady that you couldn’t catch before moving on. “Alright. Everybody up.”

She made us gather around a little platform, letting whoever wanted to go up and apologize for whoever they’ve hurt. It was absolutely horrible trying to hold in your laugh as the apologies began, especially when Karen fell forward into the trust fall instead of backwards. Someone you don’t recognize goes up, crying and apologizing.

“She doesn’t even go here!” Damien shouts before pushing you in front of him and pulling the strings of his hoodie. You stand on your tiptoes, attempting to conceal him as Janis moves closer to you. "I can't see shit from here," You mumble, trying to look between the girls stood in front of you.

Wanting to get a better view, you decide to move towards the front of the crowd. You pushed yourself between the girls, ignoring the curses thrown your way. Karen noticed you walking towards her and Gretchen and moved to the side as Gretchen went up, making space for you. Your smile dropped as Gretchen began her speech.

Oh wow. Gretchen was horrible at apologies.

Gretchen turns and falls backwards. Entranced by the train wreck that was Gretchen's half-assed apology, you hadn’t noticed people scattering away from you and Karen. Ms. Norbury gasps.

You all fall to the ground, Gretchen and Karen landing on top of you. Karen gets up after Gretchen, helping you up after her and adjusting your disheveled hair. You raise your eyebrows as she begins squeezing your cheeks with a far away look in her eyes before Gretchen starts pulling her arm. Snapping out of whatever trance she was in, she lets Gretchen drag her away, offering you a smile and a wave goodbye,

They could never make you hate her.

Janis pats your shoulder as she walks past you and up onto the platform, beginning her speech. Your eyes widen as she begins to list everything she’d done to sabotage Regina.

“Ay ay ay ay ay!” She ends her speech and jumps into the crowd as they all cheered her on. You were about to join when a teary eyed Regina pushed past you.

"Regina!" You and Cady called at the same time. You looked at each other for a moment before running towards Regina.

Cady keeps walking as you stop at the edge of the street, leaving them to hash it out when you feel a hand on your shoulder. A breathless Janis was standing next to you. You pat her back, “Nice speech, you should join Model UN.” Janis shakes her head in disgust, making you laugh until you notice a school bus speeding towards Regina.

"No!" Janis attempts to pull you back as you rush forward, jumping towards Regina and pushing her out of the way.

You both land on the harsh asphalt, groaning.

“God! Who drives that fucking fast in a school zone?!” You had your hand on your chest, trying to come down from the rush of adrenaline. “At least no one got hurt,”

Sitting up and looking around, you notice everyone’s eyes on you, “What? Why is everyone looking at me?”

Regina’s scream startles you. “Oh my God!” She says while standing up and pointing at your leg. You raise an eyebrow, turning to where she was pointing.

Oh god.

“Is the bone supposed to stick out like that?” You attempt to joke, before promptly blacking out. The last thing you see being Cady, Regina, and Janis all running towards you.

✮✮✮

Long-ish A/N: I used the gymnasium scene from the original mean girls, its lowkey funnier. I know this chapter has a criminal lack of Regina, but I promise I'll make up for it next chapter. I just needed to move the story along.

I made a little sketch of how I imagine R, but I made her vague in the fic on purpose! You get to imagine her however you want. This is just how I imagine her.

Will I acknowledge the fact that she looks like me? nope. Will I acknowledge the fact that I left out an eye? yolo.

Anyways, thank you for reading!

Tag list: @itzyyyyyydaaaaaa (if u wanna get tagged in the next chapter reply under this post!)

[isthisfree]

WIP Wednesday

Obi-Wan had learned to crochet, not knit, when he was seven years old. A visiting Master had been assigned to the creche and thought it would be a good skill to teach the younglings. They had been told it could help their fine motor skills, patience, and perseverance. Obi-Wan now thinks the Master should have added restraint to the list. Over the years Obi-Wan has had to restrain himself from buying every shade and variation of yarn he comes across, restrain himself from taking on too many projects or giving unrealistic deadlines to his friends’ requests, and the hardest one of all, restrain himself from taking his crochet hook and stabbing every single person, who no matter how often they have been corrected, still calls it knitting, right in their apparently useless eye. 

Obi-Wan eyed the hook in his hand, and mused that he could probably pop someone’s eyeball right out of their socket if he was so inclined, but luckily for the uncultured masses he could control his more murderous impulses. If he became truly irked though, he could always sic Anakin on them. His former Padawan would probably relish an opportunity to maim someone with a crochet hook. And what kind of Master would Obi-Wan be if he didn’t provide fun and enriching experiences from time to time? 

He looked up from the blanket he was working on for Ahsoka and caught sight of his reflection in the window. Blast. He was smiling, again. Obi-Wan forced himself to frown and turn his thoughts away from Anakin and back to the blanket for his Grand-Padawan. It had been happening more and more lately, his mind would betray him. Whenever Obi-Wan’s thoughts began to drift they would inevitably land on Anakin.

That in and of itself wouldn't be so bad, nothing to get worked up about. Anakin is an important - the most important really, part of his life. Of course he thinks about him! The issue was that his thoughts were becoming less and less...platonic in nature. But he reasoned, that doesn’t necessarily mean they were romantic thoughts or…lustful thoughts. No. There has to be a level between purely platonic and romantic, right? He shook his head. Best not to dwell, ignorance is bliss and all that. 

Obi-Wan tugged on his yarn. It didn’t budge. He signed. Of course his yarn was tangled. How could he expect anything to go smoothly when his own mind was such a mess. Meditation had not given him his usual amount of comfort. And why would it? His face twisted with self loathing. Of course he couldn’t successfully give his feelings for Anakin, because if he was honest they are romantic feelings, to the force, if deep down he didn’t want to let them go. He was a failure of a Jedi, a Master, and a friend. 

He pushed the blanket aside. He might need to scrap this project all together and start from scratch. Qui-Gon had always maintained that the recipients of gifts such as these could sense what the maker was feeling as they worked. Obi-Wan never really believed Qui-Gon, but he had never received a handmade blanket, scarf, poncho, or stuffed animal to test the theory. He was properly horrified though at even the smallest chance that poor Ahsoka might pick up on his inappropriate feelings. He would rather burn it to ash than have that happen. 

Ok, definitely time to take of break if he is contemplating arson. Obi-Wan stood and picked up the half finished blanket and his supplies, carefully storing them away in the custom caf table Anakin had made for him. It was full of drawers and compartments, big and small, designed to hold his yarn, hooks, stitch markers, scissors, really anything he could ever need for a project. Obi-Wan slowly ran his hand over the top of the table, before snatching it away. This was truly getting pathetic. Trying to sense his Padawan’s potential feelings for him from furniture. If this wasn’t rock bottom, Obi-Wan didn’t want to know what was. 

He needed to get out of their apartment, get his body moving and quite his mind. Obi-Wan clipped on his saber and headed out the door, his feet pointing him in the direction of the training salles. If this just happened to be the time that Anakin usually tended to be there himself, well that was just a coincidence, nothing more.

[strawbrygashez]

Caldre YURI hcs!!!

These r some hcs for yuri/girl versions of cal & andre,,. I’ll call Andre, Avery and Cal, Callie :)

I’ll start of with some gereral hcs of them both

Avery

•This girl is the perfect example of the tall, awkward, and autistic lesbian trope.

•She dresses basically the same as Andre does. She never really does anything fancy with her hair besides a quick pony tail or letting Callie braid it. She doesn’t wear makeup either because she doesn’t care for it on herself and she just thinks it takes too long. Her mom bugs the crap out of her sometimes asking her to try wearing more ‘feminine’ clothing. Like her mom will buy her a sundress or something even tho she should know that Avery is just gonna toss it somewhere in her closet to never be seen again or give it away to Callie.

•Speaking of makeup, I feel like Avery would have acne like Andre. And she gets picked on for it but as I said, she still doesn’t try makeup to cover it up. Especially probably because her skin is already sensitive enough as it is. So she just rolls with it. (Not saying the bullying doesn’t get to her tho)

•She has soooo many band posters around her room of female bands/singers like Hole, Kittie, Garbage, Otep, No Doubt, Evanescence, Jack Off Jill,& L7 for example.

•Doesn’t deny that she’s gay to herself as much as Andre does. Shes known she’s hated guys for as long as she can remember. She thinks they are just loud, dumb, annoying, and gross. She tried going out with a guy once in like middle school, and it only lasted about half a month. She was too uncomfortable with him & doing things like holding hands.

•has a ‘resting bitch face’ all the time. The only time she doesn’t look ready to rip someone’s head off is when Callie is talking to her.

•She’d be a riot grrrl. If you’ve seen the documentary ‘Dirty Girls’ she reminds me a lot of it.

Even tho I think she’s a total feminist, she’s kinda contradicts herself often. Like when she argues with Callie, she’ll tell her to go fuck off and join the braindead, blonde sluts on the cheerleading team :/ And she just makes fun of popular girls in general, even the ones who are nice because she’s insecure about herself. If a pretty popular girl who’s never said anything mean to her started to talk to her, she’d be blushing and anxious tho.. she’s just a big ol’ mess.

•Steals magazines that are like full of chicks in swim suits. She hides them under her bed. Her mom accidentally found one once and later that night, Avery took all of the ones she owned and burnt them all in a small fire outside💀 she restarted her collection tho at some point when the embarrassment died down.

•Even tho her mom goes on and jokes about her finding a nice boyfriend, it’s pretty obvious to everyone she’s a lesbian. Her room doesn’t help, the magazine she had, the way she never seems interested in male celebrities and actors, the way she ignores guys, it just all adds up.

Callie

•Avery calls her Barbie because of the blonde hair and thin body. But she also goes by Cal :)

•You can really tell how artsy she is by the way she dresses. I guess the best way to describe it is like grunge fairy core. Lots of lacy things, light greens and browns, flowy skirts, lots of jewelry, and etc. She also draws on her hands a lot in permanent marker. She’ll draw ‘tattoos’ on Avery too if she asks.

•I feel like female Cal would be pretty popular? But not like, popular popular. Just like loser/weird girl popular because she’s so pretty. Like I’m sure annoying guys try to get with her but she always comes across not interested at all. She’s happy with just Avery and Rachel.

•Just like canon Cal, everyone thinks she’s super innocent and can’t do any wrong because of the way she looks. But she’s just like canon Cal. Manic episodes, depression, and all. She hides it even better than canon Cal does because yknow, no one expects such an innocent, sweet looking girl to hold the kinda thoughts she does at all.

• Cuts and has body issues.

•Loves when Avery lets her give her makeovers. Not because she thinks she needs it at all, and she will tell her that, but because she just likes putting together outfits and looks! She paints her nails sometimes too so they match :)

•I think if she wasn’t so depressed to where she saw no future for herself, she’d maybe look into a job that has to do with fashion or writing. Something artsy.

YURI CALDRE TIME :)

•They both find each other so beautiful and interesting. Callie feels so safe and truly seen with Avery and Avery is so greatful for Callie because she was so lonely before.

•Initially, I think Avery was a bit intimated by Callie though because all she knew was she was really pretty and blonde so she was like ‘ugh. Another cheerleader 🙄’ in her mind but when Callie actually spoke to her, and Avery found out she’s really cool and they relate a lot, she kinda fell head over heels quickly.

•They both HATE Brad because he makes jokes about how they should kiss in front of him because it would be hot 😐 Or how Callie or Avery should stop hanging out with each other and hang out with him instead. Hes a total douchebag.

•Callie honestly has no doubt Avery is into girls because of multiple reasons but she won’t say anything really about it. When she does want to drop hints that she’s into chicks too, she’ll say stuff about how a girl lead singer is hot. Avery is kinda clueless tho so she’ll just be like “oh haha. Yeah I guess anyone would find that singer hot” to herself. Smh. They’ll even joke argue one time about who would get to be Courtney Loves groupie if she said only one of them could be and it will just go over Averies head.

•Callie has caught Avery looking at her putting on lipstick a bit too intensely once or twice. She thinks it’s cute :) I think once maybe she’s even kissed her cheek so it would leave a kiss mark. Avery of course got all red and said it was gross and how she had to go wash it off now and blah blah blah but probably had to actually fight for her hand to move to wash it off in the sink later.. cuz she saw herself in the mirror and went 😳

•They also joke around by pretending to be guys who are flirting with them with each other. Like Callie will put her arm around Avery in the car while they are parked somewhere and will try to copy Brads voice and say “Hey baby. It’s just me and you now. Am I gonna get lucky tonight?” They both find it amusing to laugh over guys.

•Avery uses cheap shots when they are play fighting. She punches Callie in the b00b because she’s flat anyways. Callie threatens to use her long nails to scratch out Averie’s eyeballs.

•Avery sent Callie the music video to All the things she said by TATU once but thought Callie didn’t get the point of sending it.. because Callie didn’t say anything about how it was gay 😔 she just said it was a nice song.

Also Avery cries to that song a lot.

•They would have been less pathetic than Cal & Andre and would have actually fr kissed before they did what they did.

•Callie loves listening to Avery rant. Especially about how she hates everyone and how unfair life is lol.

•Callie steals Averie’s band shirts. It first started at a sleepover where Callie’s shirt got ruined so Avery offered her a Kittie one. Once Avery saw her and how she looks exactly like a girlfriend a rockstar guy would have, she knew she was even more done for.

•I think if Callie thought Avery had a specific type, based off the pictures she has up on her wall of women and whatnot, she’d lowkey try to make herself look a little more like that type. Like if she thought Avery likes gothy looking makeup and clothes, she’d try more looks like that. She wouldn’t totally change her style but she’d play around with stuff that she thinks Avery would like.

•If they got together, I think Avery would open up more about how she feels ugly or uncomfortable with how she looks. It breaks Callie’s heart even though she could already tell Avery was not very confident in herself sometimes. she’ll go on about how Avery is absolutely gorgeous to her and she’d share how she has her own body issues too and Avery would be like “??? What? What the fuck? You’re literally perfect. What are you talking about.” And Callie would tell her she feels exactly the same when she hears Avery say that kinda stuff about herself.

•Avery definitely thinks Rachel is out to steal Callie from her. She knows Callie could easily fit in with the ‘normal’ crowd if she wanted with Rachel so she’s always worried she’ll get persuaded into leaving Avery behind. It takes a good amount of deep conversations before Avery can calm down about it and believe Callie won’t leave her.

[hansensgirl]

push it to the limit.

summary. | As he watches you ogle the man who would pop champagne moments before touching heaven, he puts his foot on the gas pedal and his hand on one of the levers, ready to push it to the limit. Maybe this time, you’ll finally notice him.

warnings. | Non/Dubcon, watersports, obsessive behaviour, coercion, bribery, dark themes, drinking (champagne), hate fucking, unprotected sex, rough sex, public sex, dumbification, degradation, dirty talk, humiliation, breeding kink, choking, allusions to anal, reader is really rude (so is Niki), *sexism/misogyny/paying for sex (see a/n), and more. 18+, MINORS DNI.

word count. | 8.4k

pairings. | Dark!Niki Lauda x Reader, James Hunt x Reader (it’s one-sided).

author’s note. | please enjoy, and please don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know. *he talks about paying you for sex as a way to degrade you, it’s brief and in german! it does not reflect anything about me or my blog. we are pro-sex work here! it’s just fiction.

“Look! There he is!” a small voice tells you, pointing somewhere with a great distance. You’re not sure how he manages to spot his favourite racer from so far. Among the sea of heads, your younger brother sits on your shoulders. You can feel him touching you down to your bones, and you try to ignore the pain just for him. “You sure? You said that five times before, y’know,” you denote, and you hear the six-year-old groan. “Yes, I’m sure! Look, he’s drinking that nasty stuff like always,” he adds, and you realize he’s talking about James’s signature champagne.

“It’s not nasty,” you mumble under your breath, remembering the way the pleasant liquid felt and tasted against your tongue. Sticky gold is what you’d describe it as, and you recall how it stained your skin. Shaky hands are bound to tremor even more under pressure, and your friend is an absolute clutz. It’s no wonder she made such a mess, as it is one of her best traits. But a particular pair of hands that seemed to have Midas’s touch cleaned you up, and you still to this day wish you were awake to thank them. You have many regrets, but that’s just a small one.

“Can we go closer to the fence? I want to try and talk to him,” your brother politely requests, and you let out a heavy sigh. Your mouth is pressed in a line, and you begin to shift your feet. You’ve got boots made of suede, a brown colour that always seems to go best with your all-black outfits. There’s a matching jacket on you as well, and it has fur on the cuffs and collar.

“What’s the marvel of watching it in person rather than watching it on television? Out here, we struggle so much, and you can barely even watch them properly. On the television, well, you see it all, and you can be as comfortable as you want,” you wonder out loud, and the child holds onto you tightly. He squeezes your head tightly, and the ribbon in your hair begins to fall in your face. It’s white silk, with a lovely hem to it. You save it for these races your sibling always wants to go to. Your other coloured ones are left for daily excursions, and sometimes a good party, too.

“Excuse me!” you loudly call out, and other women cast you nasty glares. You’ve seen those same looks one too many times, and you don’t pay any mind to them. If they truly care about their spots, they’d stand up and fight for them. But they’re just like babies with a piece of candy in their tiny fists. Maybe a jellybean, or perhaps even a pack of those oh so enjoyable Sour Patch Kids. “Why do you like only him?” you ask, raising both your eyebrows as you get closer to the fence. “I like James and Niki!” he exclaims loudly, and you loop your fingers between the holes of the fence.

“Niki? As in Niki Lauda? That arrogant, Austrian asshole?” you question in shock, not minding your foul language at all. “Yes! The guy that Dad hates. He’s cool, and he’s fast,” he explains, rolling his eyes. “Honestly? There’s nothing cool about him. He’s just… fast. James is the cool one,” you argue, and you can hear him groaning. “You like James Hunt because he looked at you that one time,” he snaps back in annoyance, and you sigh dreamily in remembrance. “Exactly! Now I need to look for Niki, I wanna say hi to him!” your brother exclaims, and your eyes scan the entrance area for Niki Lauda.

“Don’t just say hi to him; ask him for an autograph! We can sell it to one of his fans afterwards. They’re always dying for anything of his,” you propose, and your brother simply ignores the swindling ways that you’ve inherited from your grandfather since you were a kid. It’s the reason why you tend to find purses with deep pockets and smooth zippers that don’t pinch on the inner fabric. You reach into your bag, and you grab a marker that you’ve always got with you.

The crowd gets louder and louder, almost as if you’ve got headphones on your head and you want to turn down the volume, but you keep hitting the wrong button. A woman shrieks in your left ear, and a man whoops in the other. More bodies press against you, and with the marker in between two of your digits, you hope that you don’t return home with billions of bruises. On the big screen, recaps from the previous races are being played. It’s win after win, all on behalf of Niki Lauda and his incredible luck that doesn’t seem to have any end.

You’re finally able to make out what people are screaming; the curly-haired man’s name. “Niki! I love you!” they all shout, and you wonder if any of them like James. It seems like you haven’t found your people, and maybe just for today, you’re the odd one out. “Seems like you’re not the only one that has Niki amongst their favourites,” you grumble, and your brother lets out a giggle. A few moments later, he sits up far more proper on your shoulders. The hand with the marker in it grabs onto one of his legs, and you make sure he doesn’t fall down and ends up being the true loser of this race.

“Niki! I’m your biggest fan!” he shouts at the top of his lungs, using his full voice and then some. You look over to the entrance, and you spot the brooding Austrian wrapped in red walking out with a deep frown on his face. You fight the urge to roll your eyes, but your brother doesn’t care about your deep annoyance towards his idol. Niki shoots a look over to where you’re both standing, and your brother waves his arms from side to side, trying to get the racer’s attention. Even if he doesn’t, you have a feeling that Niki will be more displeased than anything.

It only makes sense, as he always acts that way with his fans though they’re the only people who appreciate him.

His nose is upturned, and he tries to pinpoint your brother and his powerful screams. High-pitched yet so loud, it’s no wonder why his tantrums are the root for almost all household headaches. “He’s looking over here,” you tell him, and your brother nods. “Yeah, because of me! He’s going to come, and I’m going to meet him!” he squeals, somehow connecting none existent dots to fuel a form of hope that dwindles inside him. You can be mean, but you’re not cruel. So you won’t be a realist, and you’ll let the youth on your shoulders believe what he wants to think.

“And when you meet him, ask him to sign something,” you advise, not letting go of your chance to make a few hundred dollars. He doesn’t say anything, but you know he’s pondering whether or not he should do it. “Niki! I love you!” the woman next to you screams as if she’s using every bit of her energy to get him to notice her. Your head already starts to ache just a bit, and you wish you brought some form of a pain killer. Niki saunters over to the fence, and for some reason, you don’t feel proper behind the fence.

It’s the way he carries himself with the highest of heads, a sort of confidence dragging with his every step. He knows he can do anything right now, and everybody except you would love him for it. He could make an entire turn and not greet his fans, and they’ll laugh it off. You’ve witnessed his haughtiness, and there’s no doubt inside you that you’ll see it again. “Niki! Good luck on the race!” a person says, and the rest of the crowd laughs at them.

“Dude, he doesn’t need your luck,” someone next to them says before elbowing the poor fan’s ribs. You can hear them wince in pain before they start to scream at the racer once again. Niki raises his hands up to his chest, almost as if he’s surrendering to something. That bratty smirk of his is replaced by a cheerful smile, and while everyone adores it, you see right through the façade. “Hello, everyone!” he greets, and you already want to roll your eyes until they fall back into your skull.

Niki stands right in front of you, and you try to look somewhere other than his face. Your view darts wildly until you finally settle on looking at the exceptionally boring asphalt underneath your feet. The screaming quiets down, and you wonder if everything is okay. “Uhm, Mr. Niki Lauda? I love you! I’m such a big fan! I watch all of your races, and I try to go to them all! Can I have an autograph?” your brother gleefully expresses, and you snap your head up at his words.

Much to your dismay, you lock gazes with the man you hate most in this entire stadium. His eyes are rather dull, yet they’ve got a sort of darkness in them that makes you feel just a tad bit uneasy. Both begrudgingly and excitedly, you hand the marker to your brother, who, in turn, gives it to his idol. Niki takes it gratefully, and he raises his least dominant hand. The other fans try to reach for it, for him. But he ignores them, and he gives a high-five to your brother.

You can’t hear the sound of their palms meeting because the displeasure of the crowd drowns it all out. “What do you want me to write it on?” Niki questions, taking the cap off of the marker. “Uhm, my shirt?” he offers, stretching the red fabric towards the elder. You observe as the racer awkwardly signs his name on your brother’s clothing, and you know that your Mother is going to be more than angry. Your Father, on the other hand, will be filled with pride and excitement.

“Thank you so much!” the child squeals, and Niki simply waves his hand as if it was no big deal to him. But you know that deep down inside, he was probably a bit annoyed. “Do you want an autograph, Miss?” Niki asks, and you take note of how his demeanour has changed. His features are softer, and his eyes seem to be lit up. “Oh, uh, no, thank you. I’m waiting for James. I love him a lot,” you tell him, pushing your shoulders back in confidence. The people around you let out gasps, and they follow their sounds up with whispers that aren’t so hushed.

Niki’s face drops, and you give him your fakest smile. He stares at you, almost as if he wants to lash out and scream. Maybe even call you a name or two. “That’s alright,” he assures after a while, and you have the urge to say something snarky. He hands the marker back to your brother, who is too busy being in awe of his favourite racer to listen to you being on your worst behaviour. Niki walks off, but this time, his stride lacks his boldness. “He’s so cool!” your brother squeals, staring at the Sharpie. You sigh, knowing that you two will constantly butt heads over Niki.

“Well, I beg to disagree.”

“Niki! Is everything okay?” one of the mechanics asks, and the star nods his head mindlessly. Instead of pressing him for some sort of answer, he leaves Niki alone to mull all by himself. There is not one person who dares to talk to him before the race unless it has to do with the car or the competition itself. It’s out of pure fear because nobody likes to face the Austrian’s wrath. From screaming way too loudly to piercing, uncomfortable stares, he never knows how to properly communicate with others.

He gazes at you from just a few mere metres away. His eyes are like ice, and he hopes you can feel the coldness from where you are. He really fucking hopes you do. You’ve got that sultry look to you, and it’s not cast towards him. No, it isn’t at all, and it irks him all the way to his bones. You ogle James fucking Hunt. Of all the other inferior racers there, you choose to admire James, and Niki hates you both for that. At every single race, he’s seen you show up to, you never look at him.

You don’t acknowledge him at all. It doesn't just hurt his ego; it also breaks his heart. Your preference and love for the Englishman injure those butterflies inside Niki’s stomach, and yet they still continue to flutter. The funniest, most ironic part of everything is that the races you attend always end with Niki being the winner. Never James. But you still idolize him over the Austrian, and he’s tired of it.

“Make sure it goes fast, okay? Fast, but nothing should catch on fire or malfunction,” Niki tells his technicians, and they halt what they’re doing. “But, Sir-” one of them starts, and Niki closes his fist for them. “No,” he simply states before crossing his arms once again. Niki looks back over to you, and you’ve now got a smile on your face. He loves the sight, but he knows his adoration will turn sour in a few seconds once he follows your line of gaze. So he chooses not to, and he decides to use you as his motivation.

The racers all go to their cars, and they pull their helmets on. Some are dressed in black, some in white, and only two in red. James and Niki. Niki is surrounded by his team, and James has twice the number of people next to him. Along with mechanics are girls in short skirts with jackets similar to yours. Deep down, you wish you could switch places with one of them, but maybe it isn’t as good as it seems to be. Perhaps your spot behind the fence with your younger sibling is what’s meant for you.

Your neck is more than exhausted. Your shoulders have a unique pain to them, one that not even doctors can begin to describe. Your bones are in desperate need of a crack, and your muscles crave a lengthy stretch that’ll leave you shaking. Yet, you continue to stand there with no complaints ready to fly off your tongue. The whooping behind you is so loud, but you’ve gotten used to it. “C’mon, Niki! You can do it!” your brother cries out, clapping his hands in excitement.

Niki flashes a thumbs up, and he looks at you one last time. As he watches you ogle the man who would pop champagne moments before touching heaven, he puts his foot on the gas pedal and his hand on one of the levers, ready to push it to the limit. Maybe this time, you’ll finally notice him. Perhaps this time, you’ll realize he’s the best racer there is. He takes a deep breath, and he reassures himself that he’ll win as always.

“I have a feeling Niki is going to win this one,” the lady next to you says, and her friends nod their heads in utter agreement. You want to ask why she thinks that, but you’ve already left a bad taste in the crowd’s mouth. “Do you think Niki will win?” you ask your brother, looking up at him as best as you can. “I think so, but maybe James will surprise us!” he predicts, and you nod your head. “I hope James wins,” you whisper under your breath. Your bottom lip falls victim to your teeth, and you gnaw on it out of stress.

You keep your sights on James, and occasionally, you glance at Niki. Perhaps it’s simply just morbid curiosity that’s eating at you because there’s no way you’d just casually look at a man you despise with all your heart. As all the racers go to their designated spots in their cars, excitement fills your stomach. But it’s mixed with fear, as anything can go wrong at these tracks, and that’s the last thing you want to happen. You get lost in your thoughts, thinking about all possibilities.

Who will win? Who will get hurt? Who will get angry? Who will become sad? You ask yourself all these questions that don’t truly matter much to your life, and yet you still try to find an answer inside of you.

Suddenly, the sound of engines revving and then taking off fills your ears. Screams follow them up, and you realize that the race has started. You wait until every single car leaves your view before looking at the scoreboard. You can’t bear to watch them risk their lives while you stand not so comfortably yet safe behind a fence. “Oh my God! James is in the first place!” you squeal like a kid in a candy store, and your brother claps.

Some of the people around you cheer for James, and others for Niki. But you ignore them, and you simply focus on what the orangish-yellow neon lights say. Some names switch spots rapidly, perhaps too quickly for you to keep up with. But you stay trained on the upper two; I. HUN, II. LAU. The former stays on top for most of the race, and the latter switches with him every now and then. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” you nervously mumble, hoping that the Englishman stays on top.

“Seems like your favourite is going to win,” the known lady cleverly smirks, and you give her the side-eye. “Yes, because he’s good at what he does,” you confidently agree, hoping that you won’t have to eat your words in the next few minutes. She chuckles before shaking her head. “No wonder you don’t like Niki Lauda,” she expresses, shaking her head practically in some form of awe. “What are you talking about?” you annoyingly press, already growing tired of whatever conversation she’s trying to make.

“You’re both egotistical and full of yourselves. You do it because that’s who you are, and Niki does it for his own reasons, like pure enjoyment. It’s so obvious for you to dislike him because he’s a reflection of you, and you hate that,” she states, proud of herself for whatever reasons. “That’s dumb, and so are you. He does it because that’s who he is. I do it because I don’t like some people—such as yourself—and because I have plenty of reasons to be prideful. Not egotistical,” you snap, and she raises her hands as if she’s surrendering.

“Sure, whatever you say.”

Your mood has turned absolutely irritable, and the bitterness has claimed you entirely. You realize that you haven’t checked the places since before speaking to the lady, and you get excited. Flicking your head up, you expect to have your preferred person’s name at the very top, but instead, you see the name of the one and only Niki Lauda. I. LAU, II. HUN. “No, no, no!” you panic, watching as James stays in second place. None of the names change places at all, and you find yourself to be absolutely crushed. “Yes, yes, yes!” the crowd cheers and your face has fallen in disappointment.

Niki’s name gets announced, and everyone is absolutely elated. Everyone apart from you. Your brother celebrates the win from his high spot, and everybody jumps for joy. You stay silent, and you try your hardest to not swallow your pride. Each driver gets out of their cars slowly, and they congratulate the Austrian with smiles on their faces. You stare at him callously before you notice that James is still grinning. Despite not winning entirely, he never actually lost. So there’s no reason for you to be so dull and gloomy.

He walks off with his posse of men and women, and you realize maybe it’s time for you to head home as well. “So, your favourite won,” you say to your brother, and he giggles. “Yep! And yours lost!” he jokes, and you let out a forced giggle. “Yeah, yeah,” you brush off, making your way through the energetic body of people you strongly dislike.

Niki is engulfed in overly suffocating hugs. Some hands shake him, and some even slap him on the back, not so lightly. He doesn’t know which pairs belong to which bodies, and yet he goes with them all anyway. “You did great, Niki!” one voice praises. “Yeah, great job, Niki!” another adds. He thanks everybody in one sentence, and he pulls away once they start to mingle amongst themselves. The fantastic win of his isn’t what’s on his mind. It’s the thing that’s been etched and burned into his brain for him to think about, even though it should be appreciated now.

No. You’re what’s on Niki’s mind, and he has no intention of letting you leave.

He looks over at the swarm of heads that may have drowned you, and he can’t find you there. Not one trace of you is left behind, and his blood boils. Do you truly hate him to the point where you can’t even stay back for a few more seconds? Niki swears in Austrian under his breath, and he frustratingly walks over to the crowd. Fingers that aren’t yours reach out for him, and he ignores them all. “Have any of you seen that woman with the little boy on her shoulders?” he angrily questions, cracking his knuckles in anticipation.

His heart is still clamouring wildly in his chest, practically beating against him to be let out. “Uhm, she just left… She went that way! But I could easily replace her if you want…” a woman flirts, and Niki completely ignores her words after he gets what he wants. He leaves abruptly, and they are still yelling after him. “So eine verdammte Schlampe. Ich kann es kaum erwarten, dir eine Lektion zu erteilen, du hast darum gebettelt, seit ich dich gesehen habe,” he grumbles, walking through the crowded entrance.

Niki emerges with perseverance and even more anger than before. He searches through the sea of racing enthusiasts, and he spots you being bent over. It’s a wildly lewd position for you to be in, and Niki finds himself feeling flushed and displeased at the way you let others leer at you. He should be the only one to see you that way, nobody else. The Austrian wants to storm his way to you, to grab you and drag you somewhere more private so that he can put you in your place, but he knows the current setting isn’t right.

“Uhm, Mr. Lauda? Would you like a drink in honour of your win? It’ll be on us!” a shy waitress offers, appearing out of nowhere. He jumps in fear, but he quickly calms down. “Well…” he ponders, even though he’s not a fan of drinking after a race. In a trice, the lightbulb in his brain goes off. It shines brightly, and a clever idea starts to nag him. “Do you, uh, mind doing me a favour? I’ll even pay you extra,” he quickly prompts, and the waitress smirks. “Sure!” she agrees, carefully balancing the glasses on her tray.

“I need you to take all these glasses—maybe add some more champagne and make sure they’re really full—to that person over there,” he instructs, pointing to where you are. He watches as you wave to your family, who drives off without you. “The one with the brown jacket?” she double checks, and he nods in assurance. “Yeah, that one. Take them to her, and tell her they’re from someone who adores her and her love for champagne quite a bit,” Niki directs while trying to hold in a villain-like laugh.

“Ok! Then I just leave?” she asks, tilting her head innocently. “Yes. And don’t mention my name or anything about me at all,” he adds quickly before placing a hundred-dollar bill on the tray. The waitress slips it into her pocket before walking to where you’re standing idly. Niki watches the innocent worker make her way towards you until he realizes he should hide away before she makes a mistake.

“Excuse me, ma’am? Hi, I have something for you,” a waitress tells you, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “I- What? I never ordered anything, I think you have the wrong person,” you tell her, turning your back and facing elsewhere. “No! I have the right person. They said they’re someone who adores you and your love for champagne!” she gleefully clarifies, and only one person comes to mind. James. You let out an excited, eager gasp. One that can’t be rivalled by any of Niki’s fans from his win.

She hands you the two full glasses, and you can just tell that the golden liquid is of high quality. You get drunk quickly, perhaps a little too easily. But that’s never stopped you from enjoying yourself at all. “Thank you so much! Oh, and I’m sorry for being rude at first,” you softly whisper to her, and she simply waves you away. “No worries,” she reassures, and she walks off before you can finish your first glass.

Tilting your head back, you bring the first flute to your mouth and you down everything it has to offer in just a few gulps. The drink slides down your throat with such ease. It’s brut, and it has a sort of bitter yet sweet taste to it. Sighing, you smack your lips and take whatever is left of the first glass gratefully. You then switch the glasses around with shaky yet skillful hands. “Thank you, James, for being such a lovely guy,” you murmur to yourself, dragging out the last letters of each word.

The alcohol quickly settles inside you, and it starts to distort you as always. Blurry eyes and a hazy mind, you’ve turned into a drunken mess in a matter of a few seconds. You slowly sip on your second and last glass before your temptations grow tired of your sluggishness. You down the entire thing until there’s a small drop at the bottom that just won’t budge. You let out a tiny sound of amazement, and you find yourself wanting to have some more. You lick your lips, trying to search for a slight hint of the sort of melon flavour until it goes away.

“Uhm? Does anyone know where that waitress went?” you ask loudly, and those who hear you shake their heads ‘no.’ “Damn,” you frustratingly mutter, lightly stomping your foot against the concrete. You roll your head backwards, in both a stretch and a habit. Your mind feels heavy, but your bones and muscles are even more burdensome. You bring your skull back to its normal position, and you decide to go look for her. Stumbling clumsily, you walk back into the dreaded arena where everyone is still celebrating Niki Lauda’s victory.

Niki watches you amongst a crowd of fans who are trying to form some sort of discussion with him. They hound him with all kinds of questions, some about the race itself and some about the esteemed racer and his personal life. Like a hunter stalking his prey, his eyes stay trained on you until you disappear behind the red door that leads to rooms that only named people are allowed to go to. “So, what are you going to do now, Mr. Lauda? How are you going to celebrate?” one of them asks, with a sort of sultry tone to their voice that he fails to notice.

“I have plans with a friend of mine for tonight,” he briefly states before pushing through them and following you into the stadium. “Can I join?” another asks, and he simply ignores them as they call after Niki with even more curiosity. It’s not hard to spot someone in bright red overalls suddenly walking into somewhere he shouldn’t be, but it’s easy to pay no mind to him because he’s a champion and most people who see him aren’t.

“Where, where, where are you, kleine Maus?” he hauntingly calls out, and his voice echoes back. Niki can hear the sound of your shoes clicking against the ground, and he decides to follow it. He tries his hardest to calm his heart down, but it’s hard to both hold your breath and make sure you’re not nearing cardiac arrest. The racer quickens the paces of his feet, practically jogging towards you as you decide to turn around and forget about the champagne.

Your jacket slips off your shoulders as you whip your body around, and suddenly, you’re pushed against a wall. The brick is painted over with a sort of cream colour. You begin to panic as strong hands keep you from fighting your attacker. “Du bellst wohl nicht nur, kleine Maus,” he notes out loud, and you don’t understand a word of what he’s saying. The voice is familiar, though, except for the fact it’s a few octaves deeper than you last heard.

“Niki?” you question, halting your flailing fists and restless legs. “Yes, kleine Maus?” the man questions and your jaw drops in shock. “What the fuck?! Are you insane? Get off of me!” you scream loudly, and his hopes of getting you still begin to die like a flower in the wintertime. Niki grabs ahold of your wrists in his dominant hand, and he swiftly turns you around and stomps on your ankles. “Help!” you cry out, but his other hand presses your face against the wall.

“Shut up, shut the fuck up,” he orders in your ear, pushing your white ribbon out of your face. You listen to him, but you disobey his commands at the same time. Writhing around, you try to escape the claws that squeeze you tightly, and you fail miserably. “Cute. Now stop fighting me, or else I’ll hurt you so badly you wouldn’t be able to go to anyone for help,” he threatens, and you gulp thickly in fear. Your saliva tastes of alcohol still, and you regret ever coming to the race.

“Good girl. See? That wasn’t so hard. All you need to do is listen to me,” Niki instructs, talking down to you like you’re some child who doesn’t know any better. “Why?” you choke out through gritted teeth. Your cheekbones rub against the brick, and the pain is gruesome. “Because I need to put you in your place. Do you seriously think you can just mouth off to me like that? To disrespect me like that? To prefer that pathetic racer over me?” he asks, and you let out a whimper. Each of his words sinks into you like needles filled with anesthesia.

They numb your mind until you realize what’s really happening, but by then, it’s too late.

“Well, obviously, I prefer James over you! Look at you, you’re rude, and you’re a horrible, shitty person. Now get off of me!” you lash out, even though your body doesn’t move. Niki simply laughs like a maniac, and you find yourself wanting to take back your words. “Maybe I’m so rude because I like you. Like how little boys tease little girls when they have crushes. You do know what a crush is, right? Just making sure since you’re so cold-hearted. Bet you don’t know anything other than hatred,” he spits, and you’re pretty offended.

“I know what you’re talking about! I’ve had feelings for people, okay?” you bite back, and Niki becomes curious. “Really? Let me guess. James Hunt? Some old boyfriend of yours? A man at a party who cleaned you up because you don’t know how to take care of yourself?” the Austrian questions, and you don’t realize who he’s talking about until you look at his hands. They’re the same as those gracious ones, except they’re more rough and lack gentleness. “That was you?” you ask, and you’ve lost all fight in your body at the realization.

“Well, of course, kleine Maus. Someone had to watch your back, and that someone is me! Du bist nicht so klug, wie du dich selbst darstellst, ganz ehrlich. But that’s okay, it’ll be okay. It’ll be just alright now that I’m here to put you in your place,” he reassures you, and you don’t even have the energy to ask him what he means. “Look, I’m sorry, I really am. I’ve learnt my lesson now, can you let me go? I won’t tell anyone, Sir, I promise!” you plea and your words start to blur into one another.

“I don’t think you’re sorry, kleine Maus. I need to do what’s necessary because I’m fucking tired of you and your bullshit,” Niki snaps, and you whimper from the harsh tone of his words. His change in behaviour gives you whiplash, and you realize that there’s no way out of whatever he has planned for you. “So careless, so mean, so ignorant… So clumsy. I guess you aren’t as independent or as strong as you claim to be,” he whispers, and he causes tears to sting your almost empty eyes. They hurt, and they carry such maliciousness to them that you can’t help but be terrified of Niki.

A hand comes up to the waist of your jeans. They flare out at the bottom, and well, they look pretty damn good on you. But maybe a little too good because they make Niki think wild thoughts. He expertly takes the buttons out of their holes, and he unzips your rusted zipper. “P- Please, Niki,” you beg one last time, but Niki ignores you. He pulls down your pants against your protests, and he lets them get tangled with your tired feet. Your bare ass is exposed to the cool air of the arena, and goosebumps begin to rise on your skin.

“Such a lovely ass, kleine Maus. Maybe I should fuck it instead of doing what I had planned. Would you like that?” Niki politely asks, and your eyes nearly fall out of your skull. “N- No, thank you, Niki,” you shakily reject, and he nods. “You see, unlike you, I’m not so mean. So I’ll spare you, but only this once,” he cheerfully tells you, acting as if you’re supposed to start jumping up and down at his words. The closest thing to gratitude he’ll ever get from you is silence.

Niki still has a tight grip on your hands, and with your legs now immobilized from the mess by your feet, you can’t do much to save yourself. He wraps his arm around your waist, and he grabs at the crotch of your panties with no care at all. The cotton bunches up, and his fingers graze lightly against your folds. You try to ignore his touch, but he does the opposite and forces you to focus on it. He’s frozen, and you’re waiting for his next malevolent move. You can hear his heavy breathing, and he angles his digits upwards so he can touch you even more.

You press a fist against the wall, and you try to brace yourself as best as you can. Unexpectedly, a fierce pain strikes you in your hips, and it hurts more than you can describe. His hand has left you, and you can feel the air breeze against your pussy. Your panties are on the floor, ripped into a shred of fabric that no longer has any good use other than reminding you of how you could’ve avoided this entire situation. “I’ll get you better ones, don’t worry,” he reassures you in a humorous manner, and you squeeze your eyes shut in annoyance.

Instead of having your hips jut out for easy access, he pushes your torso against the wall until there’s a pressure inside your stomach. Instead of pain, it’s a sort of tingling sensation that makes your eyes bulge out in shock. “Uhm...” you hesitate, and his ears perk up. “What is it?” he frustratingly asks you, and his harsh tone snivelling. “N- Nevermind,” you mumble, and you just try to take deep breaths. “Are you ever going to shut up?” Niki questions as his other hand skillfully unzips his red overalls.

He’s wearing a simple pair of shorts and a t-shirt for the hot weather and occasional coolness. You keep quiet, not sure if you should answer him or not. Niki grumbles in another language that you don’t understand, and you realize that no matter what you do, you’ll always make him angry. Even your begging doesn’t bring you any fruits of labour. Only disappointment.

His shorts join the pile of clothing on the ground, many colours clashing that leave his eyes to be sore. Sunset pink panties, pale blue jeans, vibrant red overalls, and black shorts. It’s a fashionista’s worst nightmare. His hard cock is left in his boxers, and he’s just too impatient to fully undress. He throbs out of want and need, with a swollen tip that leaks with pre-cum. “I know this isn’t so… What’s the word you people use? ...Ah, romantic! I know this isn’t so romantic, but it’s not supposed to be. I’m the only one who’s supposed to enjoy this, not you. So I don’t care if you want to fake a smile or anything like that, all you need to do is not say anything,” he explains, and you nod your head.

“O- Okay, Niki,” you assure, and he lets out a groan that is followed by his tongue clicking against his pearly teeth. “Dumb whore,” he spits, and his hand wraps around your throat. You’re inebriated beyond belief, and you don’t realize he can crush your windpipe in a split second until he whispers in your ear. “Can’t do one thing right, can you?” he retorts. The grip he has on your wrists suddenly loosens up, but you’re too sluggish to fight him. And even if you try, you’ll end up a pathetic loser with even less honour than before.

The fat tip of his large cock presses against your mildly slick pussy. “You’re already wet for me, kleine Maus! Oh, such a whore. You say you don’t want this, yet your little cunt is telling me otherwise. Maybe you should use it to think instead of your empty brain. You’d end up in better places if you did so,” he advises, and you try to tune him out. But he’s like an alarm that just won’t stop until you do something, and yet, you’re helpless. “Ich kann es kaum erwarten, dich zu meiner Hure zu machen. Wie viel verlangen Sie? Einen Dollar? So oder so, du wirst von mir gefickt werden,” Niki snickers, and you have a feeling his words lack kindness.

But who the hell are you to worry about kindness?

Niki pushes his hips forward as his cock slowly sheathes itself inside of your tight pussy. The way you hug him makes him moan immediately, and he wonders if he’s the first you’ve ever had. “Jesus Fucking Christ, you’re so right, kleine Maus,” he groans, slowly bottoming out inside of you. You’re biting down on your wobbly bottom lip, trying your hardest to keep quiet and not let out any cries. The pain is searing. It’s the worst thing you’ve ever felt, and it ingrains itself into your mind until it’s all but an illusion. You’re practically about to be torn in half from his cock, and you’re at an impasse.

The racer curses as his balls rest against your ass, heavy and swollen. He’s deep inside you, filling you up until you’re bursting and you don’t know what to focus on; the pressure in your stomach that just seems to grow with each passing second, or the pain that leisurely turns into pleasure you’ll be addicted to? Everything is so much all at once. “Feel that, kleine Maus? Do you feel how deep inside you I am? Good, because you’ll have to get used to it,” he tells you, and you writhe around.

“So desperate already…” he whispers, watching as you can’t stand still at all. Niki’s hand leaves the base of his cock, as he thrusts his hips forward to elicit a reaction from you. He holds onto you tightly, and your body jerks from his movement. Your swollen stomach is pushed further against the wall, much to your dismay. You let out a gasp, and you try to close your legs as much as Niki will let you. He chuckles before he drags his cock backwards. His tip is the only thing inside you, and he suddenly begins to pump into you roughly. “Oh my God,” you whimper quietly, and your words are drowned out by the sound of skin against skin.

He thrusts up into you at a quick pace, one that your fingers or past lovers could never rival. It seems as though he’s fast when it comes to almost anything. “Die beste Muschi, die ich je hatte,” Niki whispers. Your pussy slickens up as he fucks you, coating him with your sticky wetness. The sight is something to behold, and his cock slips in and out of you with each thrust. “Make some pretty noises, kleine Maus. I want to hear how much of a slut you are for my cock,” he demands, and a loud moan moves past your lips without warning. It’s lewd and pornographic, yet it’s not as debauched as the sounds your wet pussy makes.

“Yeah, that’s more like it, hure,” Niki praises, and you mewl once his cock begins to touch that sweet spot of yours. It makes you go dizzy and hazy, and it also makes your legs weak. You involuntarily stop clenching your thighs together. Each thrust brings you against the wall, and you feel like you’re about to explode. Your pussy clenches down on Niki’s cock tightly, and his motions stutter. “Are you going to come already, my little slut?” he questions, slowing down his thrusts just to see you get frustrated. But the reaction you have is quite the opposite of what he wants, and he’s confused.

You let out a shaky breath that is filled with relief. You try to cross your legs together and push your ass backwards so that you’re far from the wall, even if it means that you’re closer to Niki. Your efforts don’t do much, and you want to wail in defeat. Niki observes you carefully before he shoves you back against the wall. You cry out before whispering a simple ‘please’ to him. He doesn’t realize what you’re talking about until he watches you place one of your hands on your stomach. You splay your fingers out delicately, and Niki chuckles.

The hold he has on your hips goes away, and he reaches for your hand. “Shh, it’s okay,” he reassures, and you furrow your eyebrows in both confusion and surprise. Niki pulls his cock out of you until you’re an empty, gaping mess. Suddenly, he presses down on your bladder until warmth trickles down your legs, soaking the fabric at your feet. A few tears leak from your eyes, and Niki watches as you burn up with embarrassment and shame. The pain and pressure in your abdomen go away as you finally alleviate yourself.

“Dreckig, dreckig, kleine Maus,” he degrades, and you don’t have it in you to be offended. The streams of liquid eventually come to an end, and you’re so ashamed. You press your face against the wall and wait for Niki’s next word. But he doesn’t say anything at all. Zip, zilch, nada. Instead, he pulls his hand away from your stomach and uses it to silently guide his cock back to your drooling, aching hole. “Couldn’t help yourself, I know. It’s okay, it’s not entirely your fault, liebling,” Niki tells you, even though he’s more patronizing than comforting.

“Es ist nicht deine Schuld, dass du nicht weißt, wie man etwas richtig macht. Keine Manieren, keine Höflichkeiten... Ich verstehe, dass du so bist, aber ich bin hier, um dich zu ändern. Ich bin hier, um dir beizubringen, dass du unter mir stehst und dass du nichts anderes tun solltest, als meine Hure zu sein und mich zu verehren,” he continues, and you’ve decided to give up entirely. You forehead rests on the white brick, and Niki begins to fuck you roughly once again.

He pounds against your sweet spot relentlessly, not one error in his rhythmic thrusts. “Poor little thing acts all tough until it comes down to it… And now look at you, you’re a complete mess with my cock stuffed inside this perfect pussy,” Niki grunts, leaning his body forward. His chest is right up against your back, and his chin rests on your sweaty shoulder. Your white ribbon is a tangled mess, the two ends of it twisting together and falling in your face. The silk material is no longer cooling, and the styling purpose of it has lost its touch.

The plunges of his cock are more deep than quick, and each shove of his hips sends you spiralling in pleasure. “F- Fuck,” you moan, seeing stars in your vision as your legs twitch from overwhelming gratification. “Yeah, you like that? You like the way my cock makes your pussy feel, kleine Maus?” he questions, and he further pushes his head down until his mentum digs into your skin. You wail loudly out of pain before nodding your head desperately. Niki squeezes the sides of your neck even more, but he also pushes down on your windpipe until you’re gasping for air.

You wheeze resoundingly, and the sound of you suffering for breath sends even more blood down to Niki’s pulsating cock. “Say it, tell me how much you love my cock and how much of a slut you are for me,” he demands, and you grasp at whatever’s left in your vocabulary. “I- I love your cock, Niki. I’m such a slut for you and your cock. You make me feel so good. I love your cock so much,” you pathetically mewl, and you can feel a form of tightening building up in you. Your lower abdomen burns up with searing flames, ones that trail all the way down to where you’re both connected.

You get wetter and wetter, more loud and desirous as your climax builds up. It’s like a staggering tower that reaches up to the sky and past the clouds; it has an end, but it keeps growing. “Are you going to come, kleine Maus? Are you going to come around my fat cock? I know you are. C’mon, do it,” Niki urges, and you moan his name loudly. “Do it, come on my cock right fucking now, or else I’ll make this worse for you,” he demands, and your back arches violently. You let out a gasp as your jaw goes slack. Red fills your vision, and you’re clamping down on his cock.

You moan his name loudly, and your juices coat his already sticky cock. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mewl, digging your nails into your skin as you struggle to keep quiet like he ordered you to do. Your pussy spasms wildly, and your clit throbs, desperate for a few fingers to rub it. Your legs shake just a little bit, and you find yourself meeting Niki at his every thrust, desperate to keep going. Your ass moves backwards, and his hips move forwards, and the Austrian fucks you through your orgasm. Your nerves have sparks flying from them, and every part of you is sensitive.

“You’re so pretty when you come, kleine Maus. You look just like a desperate whore,” Niki grunts, and he can feel himself inching closer to his own climax. It’s like the light at the end of a tunnel or the chequered flag that usually waits for him at the race track before he’s announced to be the winner. “I’m gonna come inside you, kleine Maus, even if you don’t want me to. I’m going to fill you up with my seed and make you all nice and round. That way, you’ll know who you belong to, and you won’t be whoring around for the James Hunt you love so much,” he whispers in your ear, and you rapidly shake your head.

No, no, no, no.

“Yes, yes, yes, kleine Maus, you’re going to take my seed because I said so. Now stop fighting me,” he moans in your ear, and his thrusts grow sloppy and lazy. Niki shallowly fucks into you, and his balls begin to tighten up. His chest rises and falls, and he can feel his high beginning to climb up to the sky. Up, up, up, and away. Niki moans out the little pet name he’s applied to you, and he entirely shoves his cock inside you until he can’t move anymore. Growling, he comes inside you without a care in the world.

The raging, red tip of his fat cock is so deep. White ropes of his seed shoot into your womb, filling you up until you’re an upset, messy cumdump. “This is all you’re good for, kleine Maus,” Niki whispers in your ear, reminding you of your so-called place that he believes you belong in. His cum drips down your inner walls and leaks past his cock, and your fluids mix with each other. Niki’s cock twitches inside of you, but he remains as hard as a rock.

“Can’t wait to see you with my baby, kleine Maus. And I can’t wait to see James’s face when he sees you with me. Er wird so schockiert sein, dass sein Gesichtsausdruck unbezahlbar sein wird,” Niki laughs wickedly, and you can’t imagine you’ll ever meet anyone as cruel or as twisted as he is. “Can you get off of me now? I want to go home, and I want to stay as far away from you as I can,” you snap in both annoyance and exhaustion. “Nu-uh,” he tuts in a disciplinary manner. “You’re not going anywhere, kleine Maus,” Niki tells you. He tilts his head up until his lips touch the skin of your ear.

“I still have to celebrate my win with you, and I’ll make sure to push you to the limit, kleine Maus.”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

weird, m | ksj

pairing(s): seokjin x reader

summary: Your roommate and best friend, Kim Seokjin, forgot to double-check the autofill information and shipped his package from the online sex shop with your name on it. Naturally, this ends with you tying him up and sucking his dick, and him tying you up with you riding him like a wild animal. Wait, what?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; friends with benefits; crack (sorry, I can't be serious for more than two seconds when writing Seokjin); yes, reader usually fucks younger dudes XD; smut (fem reader, D/s dynamics (both switches), bondage, m-receiving oral, thigh riding, cowgirl, spanking); non-idol!BTS - just two best friends fucking for sexual exploration, don't mind them

technically a prequel to love roulette, m | myg yes, this is the explanation to that mysterious package, but is it really an explanation or rather an excuse to fuck WWH, you decide

--

“Seokjin, can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

When Kim Seokjin looked at you, it was a bit like looking into the eyes someone much younger than you even though he wasn’t. He had that youth about him, the ‘here’s-to-never-growing-up’ sparkle in his large brown eyes, complete with parted lips in a small ‘o’ and, alright, yes, his Nintendo Switch in his hands.

“A long time ago, I asked you which way you think you lean, more dominant or more submissive, no?”

His handsome face flushed pink, slowly scooting away from you.

“Er… yeah, I remember…”

“What?”

“Huh?”

You poked him and he squeaked, slapping a hand over his side even though he was wearing a brown sweatshirt. Seokjin was always cold, even during the summer.

Your best friend was an odd character.

You chuckled. “Why are you being so awkward? I thought we were over this phase.”

Well, he should be. You had known Seokjin since elementary school and seen him, er, date was a strong word for what you both were doing in middle and high school, more like being bumbling messes and walking in on each other bonking classmates, but, hey, what mattered is that you both got better at it over the years.

It being sex.

Not romance.

You both still had only sketchy ideas about what romance was supposed to be.

“We are,” your best friend coughed, clearing his throat for absolutely no reason. “We are, I just…”

“Used my name for purchasing goods from an online sex shop?”

He choked and nearly flung his Switch. You caught it, swiftly placing it on the coffee table as you procured the cardboard box from behind your back, already open, address and name circled in thick black permanent marker on the rather inconspicuous package.

“W-What, that’s absurd, why would I ever–?”

You hummed pleasantly, sweeping the box away from his lanky limbs and his flailing hands. For someone who didn’t purchase goods from an online sex shop, he sure was interested in getting the box. He tumbled into your lap, and quickly scrambled back, black hair suddenly fluffed and wild from the movement.

“Something tells me you didn’t check the autocomplete form before clicking submit.”

You saw Seokjin choke on air.

He jerked away from you and fumbled with his phone beside him. You peeked over his broad shoulder and saw that he was scrolling through his emails like a madman, except Seokjin had a bad habit of never deleting any. He had maybe fifteen thousand unread emails to sort though.

“You don’t have to check. I am sure I didn’t order red cotton bondage rope and a leather flogger.”

Seokjin whipped his head around, face redder than a tomato, looking halfway between fainting and screaming.

You raised an eyebrow. “Is it for you or a mysterious imaginary girl that you’re dating?”

Now your best friend seemed to be contemplating holding his own breath until he passed out to avoid your questioning.

“I-It’s not for me!”

“Oooh, then who? You’re not an internet hookup kind of guy though… unless she was dumb enough to put her full name as her username, then she’s too airheaded to be a catfish–”

Seokjin flapped his hands, smacking you in your pajama-covered chest, sputtering. “No one! There’s no one! I just…!”

You caught one of his wrists, raising an eyebrow.

“Just?”

He froze.

Silence.

“… Seokjin?”

You left go of his hand. It stayed there, frozen in the air.

Ah, it seemed as if his soul left his body.

Rest in peace Kim Seokjin. You were the handsomest best friend one could ask for.

You prodded him in the side again and Seokjin doubled over, trying to cover his face with the large sleeves of his sweatshirt, long legs in black sweatpants curling up as if he could cocoon himself away from the conversation.

“Seokjin, you can be interested in whatever you want,” you snickered, placing the package next to his fetal positioned body. “I simply thought it was funny that you accidentally used my name. Although I wouldn’t use that flogger on a real person, only for posing in pictures. In any case, have fun being freaky by yourself and not for some mysterious woman you refuse to tell me about.”

You stood up, about to leave and give your best friend some space. You shouldn’t go too far teasing him after all.

“What do you mean?”

You stopped, looking back. Seokjin’s large brown eyes were peeking out of his splayed fingers, shifting awkwardly when you made eye contact. He cleared his throat. He was doing that a lot for someone who seemed perfectly healthy ten minutes ago, shrieking at himself for missing the ledge in his game and dying.

It had seemed like a good time to interrupt and embarrass him so you could save your eardrums.

He coughed and pointed to the box. “About the… um… whip… thingmabob…”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious?”

You marched over and opened the box, making Seokjin jolt and cover his red ears instinctively, but you ignored him, pulling out the black pleather flogger you had already unwrapped from the plastic – purely from thinking it was your own package, by the way, no other reason, surely not because you were mildly curious about what your best friend was into, nope – and you slapped the short three tails into your hand, wincing.

“This kind of cheap material is too plastic-like. If you use this on bare skin and hit too hard, you’re going to cut someone and I know you’re squeamish around blood, unless you secretly have a blood fetish too and have been a really good actor all this time–”

“How do you know that?”

You blinked at his question.

“What?”

Seokjin sat up, giving you a confused pout. “Why do you know something like that?”

Now it was your turn to shift your eyes around.

“Uh…”

Er… how to tell your best friend that the younger guy you were casually fucking for the past couple of weeks was, ah, rather knowledgeable about certain things, was, um, interested in teaching, uh, yeah, teaching…

Seokjin squinted at you suspiciously. “Is it that idol trainee that was here two nights ago when I was out drinking with Hose–”

You waved your hands very quickly, tossing the flog aside carelessly and slapping your thigh to silence Seokjin and his far too invasive questions. “Look. I just don’t want you to hurt anybody on accident, okay? Your rope choice was good though. You should always use an organic material for shibari, cotton, hemp, linen if you’re rich, but you’re a cheapskate, so–”

Your best friend narrowed his eyes into slits. “How much younger is that guy compared to you again? Hm? And what was his name? Ye–”

You slapped a hand over Seokjin’s mouth, smiling sweetly and dangerously, reaching into the box and pulling out the red cotton rope.

“I know a lot of knots now and I can tie a noose just for you, Seokjinnie.”

Your best friend, rightfully so, looked terrified.

“Now. Let’s talk about you, okay? Okay.”

You removed your hand and held onto the rope.

Seokjin gulped, but then shook his head vigorously, frowning. “What did you call it?” He was already moving past your death threat. Smart man.

“Call what?”

“Shi-something?”

“Shibari? Japanese rope tying?” You lifted the cotton cord in your hand. “Is that not what this is for?”

Seokjin blinked very rapidly.

You blinked back at him. Then it dawned onto you. “The diamond-y rope patterns where they’re all tied up and stuff.”

“Ah! Yeah! That!”

“You want that done to you?”

Seokjin jerked to one side. “What? No! To someone else. Maybe. No. What?”

You slowly placed the rope on his lap and scooted away.

“Uh… huh. Okay. Enjoy.”

“Wait,” he blurted.

“What?”

“CanIpracticeonyou?”

“Can you WHAT?” you echoed shrilly.

“Right, yeah, okay, never mind–”

-

“Seokjin.”

Your best friend choked on his own toothbrush and threw himself into the bathroom wall, colliding into the towel bar and howling in pain while simultaneously hacking up a lung.

“I’ve decided I am going to teach you some simple knots to prevent me from having to pick your naked ass up from the police station or hospital,” you said calmly as Seokjin half-died on the floor tangled in your mint green and his navy-blue bath towels. “And because I don’t want to have to cut some poor girl off your bedframe because you’ve blacked out running onto your door trying to find me.”

“I’ve never–” he wheezed.

“But you will if I don’t take precautions,” you cut in, grabbing your purple toothbrush and putting toothpaste on it as Seokjin attempted to collect himself off the ground. “Like that one time you ran into the window when that wasp was in the apartment.”

“That was a fucking wasp, you freaked out too!”

You started brushing your teeth. “Yeah, but I didn’t knock myself out and wake up with a fat bump on my forehead. That was you,” you gargled.

“Ack…”

“Anyway, I know a few things and I figured I would do a good deed and enlighten you.”

“Who taught you? Was it Ye–”

You jabbed Seokjin forcefully in the ribs and he immediately shut up because he choked on his toothbrush again.

-

“Why do you have scissors?”

“For cutting the rope.”

“Yeah, but why are they so big?”

“That’s what she said.”

Seokjin narrowed his eyes. “I hate you.”

“Cool, now I’m gonna tie you up. Give me your hands.”

You unwound the end from the bolt and frowned, nudging his knee with yours. You were both sitting on his bed, him cross legged and you on your knees because he was wearing black sweatpants and you were wearing no pants, just your usual large lavender pajama shirt with a pattern of yellow stars.

“Take off your sweatshirt. It’ll get in the way.”

“But I’m cold.”

“You won’t be because apparently this shit turns you on,” you snickered.

“Shut up, it does not. It’s the other way around,” Seokjin grumbled, yanking his chocolate brown sweatshirt over his head.

You paused.

“I thought you were more sub.”

Seokjin froze, head half-out of his sweatshirt. You waited. He didn’t move. You waited some more. He coughed and chucked the article of clothing aside, yanking his white t-shirt down and smoothing his hair, not looking at you.

You waited.

He smoothed his hair for a full two minutes.

“Um, anyway–”

You planted a hand on his knee and Seokjin tried to chop your hand away, only for you to snatch his wrist, so his other hand came up to stop you, but you wound the end of the rope around his wrist and bounced off his mattress, pinning your knees on top of his knees and making him squeak as he tumbled back into his pillows, bringing you with him. You had to jerk your head out of the way to avoid collision.

“My nuts!”

“I didn’t hit your precious nuts, you numbsku–”

Hang on.

You locked eyes with Seokjin under you, who gawked back at you, absolutely terrified.

“… You are still a sub.”

Seokjin winced. “Ugh, it’s just… I’m getting older, alright? I can change my mind…”

You could get off him. You could let it be. You totally could.

But were you going to?

No.

You straddled his abdomen and brought his hands to his chest with a big grin. Seokjin’s eyes turned into giant brown saucers. He looked ready to pass out and not from your weight because you weren’t putting much weight on him.

“W-W-What are y-you d-doing?!” he shrieked.

You rapped him in the forehead. “Teaching. Pay attention. Hands up.”

“You aren’t taking your rings off?”

He was referring to the three silver rings you wore on a daily basis – an onyx stone on your left middle finger, a goat-head shaped ring on your right thumb, and a skull with a jester hat on your right ring finger.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why do I need to take them off?”

He lifted his hands and gave you an exaggerated shrug in between your thighs. Come to think of it, Seokjin had a rather broad chest so you had to spread your legs pretty wide to accommodate and hover over him.

Precarious.

“Ah, perfect.”

Your best friend yelped as you wrapped the rope around his wrists, leaving the end sticking out between them, first focusing on loosely binding. He tried to break away, but you harshly squeezed his sides with your thighs, narrowing your eyes.

“Stop squirming.”

He froze at your cold tone, shifting his eyes awkwardly.

“Watch. Now.”

His eyes immediately snapped to your hands.

“Wrists together.” You nudged them so the inner parts of the wrists were touching. “A little space in the center,” you added, looping out the end of the rope. “I’m just teaching you how I learned it, there are a few ways, but the details are important so you don’t prevent loss of circulation,” you added seriously, waiting for him to nod before continuing. “So, wind it around a couple times, but don’t overlap. Four or five?”

“But I can still get out.”

You glared at him. Seokjin shut up and jammed his plush pink lips together, shaking his head rapidly as if to say, who me? I wasn’t talking!

“Turn it ninety degrees like this,” you demonstrated. “And start going perpendicular to and in between the wrists to create the binding. Line up each coil side by side. Mind the starting end here. Then…” You reached for the scissors and snipped the excess away, dropping the rope and scissors beside you on the bed. “You tie it off on the outside. I use a square knot, so this end over this end, and then retie it the opposite way. Try to break free.”

Seokjin frowned at the red rope around his wrists, twisting it this way and that, squirming underneath your legs. You put your hands on your waist triumphantly, nodding to yourself in pride. You did a good job! It looked neat and it was inescapable without tightening on any blood vessels to cause any dangerous loss of circulation.

Hang on.

Seokjin froze.

You froze.

You both looked down.

You smacked him in the cheek.

“Ow!”

“What are you looking there for?!”

“Why did you hit me? Why do you always resort to violence?!” Seokjin accused, jabbing you underneath your breasts with his bound hands. “What is going on down there?”

“Nothing! Stop moving!”

“No!”

“You–”

You closed your thighs around Seokjin’s waist and sat down on him, causing him to gasp, wind knocked out of him as his diaphragm was pushed up into his lungs, struggling with the rope between his wrists and resorting to slamming them down on the bed above his head. You growled as you towered over him. He started yelling, as he always did.

“Yah!”

You slapped your free hand over his mouth.

“Silence.”

He glared at you behind your palm, breathing hard. You sat on top of him, breathing just as hard. He was bigger, strong, yes, but not in the position of power and – being honest, after all – your best friend was never really out to fight you and win. He was more of a ‘I’m-going-to-be-stupidly-annoying-until-you-do-what-I-want’ type, which made him rather childish in some ways. You were more of the ‘I’m-gonna-beat-your-ass’ type.

In conclusion, it was a healthy friendship.

Seokjin started licking your palm and making crazy eyes at you.

Your eye twitched.

“Stop it.”

Unsurprisingly, he did not, in fact, stop it.

“I said, stop it.”

And you slid down, past the wet spot now on his t-shirt, planting your soaked panties on top of his crotch, grinding down, and, yup, Seokjin bucked and yelped, immediately stopping and seizing up as if he could hide the massive erection that you had been willing to ignore but he was being a little – nah, actually, an extra-large, supersized – shit and it was getting on your last nerve, so what better way to resolve a wordless argument (on his part, heh) then humping his hard-on?

You removed your hand and Seokjin had a brief moment to gasp your name before you slid the pads of your fingers onto his tongue, rubbing it roughly and making his eyes nearly bulge out of his head.

“I told you to stop, but you aren’t listening,” you snarled.

Seokjin whimpered, brown orbs glassy, pupils blown out.

You stilled.

Hold on a second.

You had a brief epiphany where you realized you were grinding on your best friend’s dick with him tied up and you were wetter than the Yellow Sea. This wasn’t some guy you picked up at the night market that won you that sleeping Pikachu at the claw machines, only to chat him up and end up with bed with a guy who was – ack, never mind his age – anyway, this was your best friend.

Kim Seokjin.

Oh shit, I’ve gone too far.

You let go, backing up. “S… Sorry, I–”

But then Seokjin’s plush lips closed around your fingers, sucking hard and you choked slightly, feeling his hips roll and the tip of his clothed erection hit your covered clit. He was glaring at you. You gasped as his teeth gently but firmly caught your two fingers. It did hurt, but only a little. Mostly it sent a rush of rather uncomfortable and mind-boggling arousal racing from your knuckles to your core, drenching your panties further.

“Don’t stop,” he mumbled around your fingers.

Don’t stop?

DON’T STOP?

His teeth let go, panting, staring into your eyes.

“Don’t make this weird,” Seokjin muttered, shifting his gaze. “Don’t make this weird, okay?”

His brown eyes flickered back to you. His bound hands were still over his head, black hair flaring out of his pillows, white t-shirt messed up, still trapped between your thighs. You paused, fingers slipping out of his lips, the pads trailing on his lower lip, turning it glossy with his saliva.

Your heart was racing fast.

He furrowed his dark brows and, for the first time, his serious expression made you think that perhaps, maybe, there was a side of him down there, the other side to the coin.

“I just…” Seokjin exhaled slowly, not looking away from you. “I trust you to do this. You’re capable and knowledgeable. I know you are. Word gets around with your, er, habits with younger guys…”

You felt your cheeks heat and you scratched your head awkwardly.

“Anyway, it’s fine if you wanna… er… get off. With me. Because I’m so handsome and all.”

You were thiiiiiiis close to leaving out of sheer embarrassment that instantly dissipated at Seokjin’s sudden unexpected self-compliment. Instead, your eye twitched and you squinted in annoyance.

Seokjin coughed, ears singeing bright red. “Unless you can’t, of course. Because it’s easy to fall in love with me, and that would be very bad considering I don’t want to marry you–”

“I don’t want to marry you either,” you snapped. “You’re ugly.”

Seokjin gasped dramatically, highly offended. “How dare you–!”

He abruptly sat up and you twisted back, only for his arms to swing over your head and sandwich you between his tied wrists and his chest, ramming you back onto his lap and his hard dick. You hissed and bit down your moan, not willing to admit it was mildly turning you on, because of course neither you or Seokjin hated each other – only in that classic way best friends hate and love each other at the same time – and, yeah, sure, you could admit Seokjin was handsome and cute and fun to be around, but he wasn’t the one, not that you knew what the one was supposed to feel like or knew if you would ever feel such an intense, romantic love, but you had this strange idea that the one for you would be someone who could understand you on a different level, and you didn’t have that with Seokjin even if you did talk all the time. You were quite sure the feeling was mutual and now, looking into his brown eyes with a scowl, you saw that the feeling was indeed mutual.

Also, Seokjin was an immature shithead.

A loveable, worldwide handsome, immature shithead. Redeemable.

Still.

You were horny.

And Seokjin was horny.

You weren’t going to date Seokjin ever, but your best friend was hot as hell and you could definitely bang him without any regrets.

“Let’s fuck,” he breathed into your face.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t make it weird.”

Don’t make it weird, yeah, okaaay dude–

Your thoughts were suddenly cut off when Seokjin kissed you.

His forearms closed in behind your back and he pressed his bound wrists into your shoulder blades, pushing you into his solid chest and his embrace, taking your breath away. He always had good hugs, even if they were just to comfort you when your favorite flavor of ice lollys stopped being stocked at your local grocery store – still tragic to this day – and even when he was clinging onto you like a howling monkey because a cockroach was in the bathroom and he was screaming at you to kill it and nearly blowing out your eardrums, even then…

Now.

You closed your legs in around his hips and rolled your crotch into him, suddenly kissing him back.

He gasped into your mouth, your eyes half-opening, him gazing back at you, long lashes and dark eyebrows and glowing tan skin, holy shit, your best friend was handsome as fuck, why did other men even try when Kim Seokjin existed?

“Are you falling in love with me because I’m so handsome?” Seokjin teased, nipping at your lower lip.

Your eye twitched. Oh, yes, that’s right, because you’re annoying.

You shoved him and he yelped, clutching your back as you both fell onto the bed with a flump! You slid out from under his arms, skin prickling at Seokjin’s involuntary whine at your departure. Don’t make this weird, yeah, okay, don’t turn me on this much, dumbass, you are reminding me of… You pushed the thought away.

You didn’t want to think about other people when the person you were touching was right in front of you.

“What are you – yah!”

You gripped the waistband of his sweatpants and yanked down, exposing his underwear – bright blue, nice, nice – and his clothed erection, leaning in, hot breath ghosting over it, Seokjin jerking his arms about because he seemed undecided on either if he wanted to see or not see, but you let him deal with that in his own time, lowering your mouth, tongue extended, fingers splayed over his hips, silver rings glinting in his bedroom lights.

“You look like a demon,” you heard from above you.

You planted your tongue on the spot where the head of his cock would be and soaked it with saliva.

“F-Fuck!”

That shut him up real quick.

Your eyes drifted up, lapping slowly, barely stimulating the sensitive head through his underwear, closing your lips around it so the fabric clung wetly to the taut skin underneath. His cock swelled and twitched under your mouth; the action was mirrored by Seokjin’s jaw. He was clenching it along with his hands balled into fists, gasping for breath.

“O-Oh, f-fuck…!”

You were beginning to get the hint with each passing second of working your tongue around his rapidly hardening cock. Seokjin had put himself in the sub category when you asked back then because he liked to things being done for him. It was less about the mental aspect and more of the physical acts of service in his case. However, he wasn’t very good at articulating what he wanted and thus the natural pattern of someone just doing it led to, ah, exhibit A.

You currently parting your lips and letting your tongue snake out, coating the length with saliva.

But.

You could see it in his eyes, that burning intensity.

Maybe part of it was because it was you. He probably didn’t have those butterfly jitters of trying to woo a stranger or the nervousness of looking bad in the honeymoon phase of a relationship. There was already a level of comfort – and the ability to readily shit-talk each other at any moment – and so Seokjin was free to relax, even if it was a bizarre situation of sexual discovery.

“Take it off,” he growled.

Your fingers creeped up his sides, hooking over his boxer briefs. Slow, deliberate, kissing up his length, on the tightrope, dominant in your control, submissive in the action, raising your head so Seokjin could lift his hips, feathering kisses on the exposed skin and making him hiss and shudder, eyelids fluttering, slipping into subservience a little.

At the end of the day, who killed the unwanted bugs in your shared apartment?

Yeah, you.

“Oh, f… fucking shit…”

You tilted your head and ran your tongue up and down the length, licking up the sides and circling around the thick head, bordering on frustratingly soft, switching to wet, sloppy kisses when his hands raised, making him pause, gazing down at you curiously and attentively, entranced by the action. You ducked down, tongue slurping around his balls, lifting his cock, kissing, sucking, eyes closing, tip of your wet muscle drawing zig-zag patterns that soft skin.

Seokjin moaned your name.

A shiver of electricity went up your spine.

Alright, fine, you were getting turned on.

You wrapped your lips around his balls and enveloped them both with your mouth.

“Whoa!”

You opened your eyes to see Seokjin staring wide-eyed at you, hands straight up to stare at you between his upper arms. You almost laughed at the hilarious triangular-looking pose, but your mouth was currently full, so you restrained yourself.

“That’s possible?! You can put both nuts in your mouth at the same time?!”

Uh.

Where you supposed to respond with your cheeks stuffed with his nutties?

You hummed casually in response.

“A-Ah…!”

Seokjin gasped at the vibrations and the movement of your tongue slapping all over them, short, rapid licks all over his skin, watching him with a cocked eyebrow, but he didn’t even notice, hands dropping and moaning to the ceiling, his eyes closing and savoring the hot wet warmth and the power of your mouth, shivering as your hand slowly stroked his length in time with your tongue.

You let him bask in it before detaching and swallowing his cock.

“Gah!”

Seokjiinie, you thought wryly, we gotta work on your repertoire of sex sounds.

You spied him looking down at you, so you paused around the swollen head and slid your tongue out, circling and wrapping around his length while sucking on the tip and rubbing the back of your tongue along the underside.

Seokjin made a bunch of weird croaking noises that were, strangely, rather attractive. Okay, you could admit it. You were kind of a sucker for your best friend in the most platonic way possible… while in the middle of sucking his dick.

What?

He was handsome!

You began to bob your head up and down, tongue and lips descending, taking him deep so you kissed the base of his cock, head buried in your throat, waiting for him to glance down at you, hazy brown orbs under lush lashes, and you would peek your tongue out and lap at his balls, interrupting the tightness, causing him to swear and jerk his hips up, urging you to keep consistent speed and pace, all the while watching every single movement of your tongue. You kept this irregular pace, slow, then fast, then slow again when he looked at you, then fast when the ecstasy was too much and he closed his eyes, over and over. You could see that a battle was being waged Seokjin’s pretty head, between wanting to observe the lewdness of you licking his balls with his hard cock buried in your throat while also desperately needing to get to the fuck off.

“You… bitch… suck me off properly, fuck…”

You raised all the way so only the head was in your mouth and sucked, rubbing up and around it, swirling all over, teasing the slit and soaking the sensitive skin, rutting it against the roof of your mouth and Seokjin groaned, pressing his head back into the pillows, black hair covering his eyes, fists pressed to his chest.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, let me cum!”

His hips rammed up and you dug your nails into them, wincing as the head hit the top of your throat and slid down, cutting off your air, and then he began to thrust erratically, the position, inability to use his hands as leverage, and your resistance not letting him set up a good rhythm. You had to force him back down, popping your mouth off, snarling.

“I’m gonna gag if you do that! You want me to vomit on your dick or what?”

But all of a sudden Seokjin sat up again, grabbing your pajama shirt and yanking you to him, saliva dripping down your chin and then it was on his chin, a messy, savage kiss, ravenous need in his actions, pulling you to him, close, closer, you twisting and then gasping as he pushed one of your thighs down, planting your soaked panties on the exposed part of his thigh.

“Ah, Seok–”

He attacked your lips again with a light growl, sparks shooting across your skin, his thigh rising and bouncing you both on the bed, his legs still tangled in his pants and underwear but the effect was undeniable.

Seokjin was making you ride his thigh.

Whoa.

He bit your lower lip and sucked hard, your eyes fluttering closed, hips rocking, heat turning hotter, wet turning wetter, your sticky, sweet juices clinging to his upper thigh, your own pressed against his saliva-covered cock, wrapping your arms around him, close, closer, you thrusting your tongue in his mouth and him moaning before he did the same to you, starting a tug of war, rubbing harder against his skin, his muscle tensing against your covered clit, friction and wetness everywhere, too many clothes and no eye contact, one of your hands slipping into his black locks and tilting his head, deepening the kiss and inhaling his exhale, shuddering at the erotic nature of the moment.

He mumbled your name against your lips, still clutching your pajamas, stars bunched in his hands, fingertips pressed into the curve of your breasts.

“Can I try the rope tying now?” Seokjin whispered, voice gravelly and low.

-

“Excuse me?”

There was a ripped-open condom wrapper sitting on the bed.

“What?”

Your pajama shirt, bra, and panties were on the floor, along with Seokjin’s shirt, sweatpants, and underwear.

“Why are you – gah!”

You sucked in a breath as you sank down on his cock. Fuck, it was tight, tight as you lowered yourself onto his hips, Seokjin gasping and clutching the long length of red cotton rope that you had carefully untied from his wrists. You had even taken the extra step to massage them afterward, not that he needed it because of your careful work – good job, past you – but he appreciated it all the same, because deep down Kim Seokjin was a prince.

“Oh my God, you’re so tight, shit, shit, shit…”

You neglected to tell your best friend that you were both low-key proud of and turned on by your own ability to take dick without much foreplay. That little edge of tightness added just the right amount of spice of pain that amplified to the pleasure.

Okay.

And yes, you felt a special kind of glee as you witnessed Seokjin’s stunned shock and near passed-out expression from being inside you.

You held out your wrists and grinned. “Go ahead. Tie me up.”

Seokjin gawked at you like you had three heads.

You squeezed your breasts together with your upper arms, tilting your head with a devilish grin.

“God, you’re so hot, but you look crazy,” he wheezed.

Your grin dropped and your eye twitched. “Is that supposed to be a compliment or…?”

Seokjin shrugged, and moved your hands so they were in the better position for him. Much to your annoyance, he didn’t elaborate.

“Um, let’s see, you left a bit out to use as a tie and…”

You began to rock your hips.

“H-Hey!”

The side of your lips curved upward. “What? We’re multitasking.”

“We–?” Seokjin choked, gritting his teeth as you pulsed around his hard length, rolling your hips gently, adjusting until you found a comfortable spot so the head hit you in just the right spot, ah, yes, right there, spreading your fingers out over his chest, leaning your forehead against his, not quite going full force but a slow, deliberate rhythm that wasn’t going to make either of you cum, but, damn, did it feel good.

Seokjin shuddered, gasping your name.

“Tie me up, Seokjin,” you murmured back, caressing his skin.

His eyes darted up, saturated with lust, searching your eyes, and you gazed back.

You could be a real jerk right now.

His hot exhale washed over your lips, a shudder of nervousness.

But this was your best friend, and he was trusting you.

You tilted your head and kissed him softly, flush against his plush lips.

“Come on,” you nudged his nose lightly. “Do it.”

You viewed him from under your lashes. He shivered. Almost.

He needed only one more little push.

“Want you, Seokjinnie,” you breathed against his skin, hints of need and desperation in your voice.

A small smile danced on his lips, staring into your eyes.

You might have fallen for him a little bit in that moment.

“Okay.”

He kissed the side of your mouth, a teasing little peck, and you smirked, turning your head so you wouldn’t break the image you had created for him, but he was already looking down, busily occupied with your wrists, so you drew back, focusing instead on riding him, closing your eyes. You built a leisurely, pleasurable pace, leaning forward a bit to rub your clit against the base of his cock, sighing contentedly at the way he filled you, a wonderful, thick, satisfying girth that you could get used to, other than the fact that most of the time Seokjin drove you up the wall, but, hey, maybe if both of you reached a certain age and you were still single, maybe you could marry your best friend solely for having accessible dick…

“Ah! Perfect.”

You cracked open one eye.

And tried not to burst out laughing.

“Erm… well…” you coughed, tugging at the rope a little. It looked messy and rather hideous, parts overlapping and twisting awkwardly, but he had the… basic idea? It wasn’t like you were going to do anything dumb anyway, so it was pretty good for a first time.

Seokjin frowned. “I don’t know how you did it so neatly…”

“You line up the coils next to each other – ah!”

He seemed to think that was good enough and grabbed handfuls of your ass, causing you to tip forward and brace your hands against his chest, gasping as his hips thrust up into you, abrupt pleasure blooming up your core, sudden squelch of wetness between your joined hips.

“Come on,” he grunted, clenching his jaw, tone getting deeper and more dangerous with each word. “I have to get off, and now.”

He smacked his hands down on your ass and you almost whimpered.

Almost.

Seokjin drew back a little, giving you a strange look.

“W… What?” you managed to get out.

He tilted his head. “Do you like that?”

You almost said, no, of course not, but you stopped yourself, looking down at the red rope tied around your wrists, heat flaring in your cheeks, ass stinging slightly from his slap.

His cock twitched inside you.

Your eyes flickered up to him. A sly smirk danced on your lips.

“Yeah. I like the things you do to me.”

You saw Seokjin pause, brown eyes widening a little, black hair over his forehead.

You pushed him down on the bed. He gasped, but he was used to it now, gripping your ass and tipping his head back as you began to really ride him, waving your hips to ram his cock into your pussy, not even noticing the moan seeping from your lips, fuck, it was good, fulfilling and deep, your bound hands on his chest, fingers spread out and nails digging into his skin a little, but Seokjin seemed to be into it, his own nails sinking into your ass, pushing you down with every descent, hitting you harder, rougher, intensifying the pleasure, building onto it. Hot breath, warm skin, joined hips, loud slaps, rocking bedframe, your breasts bouncing with each thrust, gazing at each other through half-lidded eyes, not quite seeing each other but drowning in the gratification, the roughness, gasping sharply as his open palm smacked down on your ass again, making it bounce and jiggle in his hands, your core and thighs squeezing tighter, witnessing his tight hiss of desire, mesmerized by your sound so he did it again, spanking the other cheek, and you did it again, whimper creeping out, arousal consuming his handsome features, intoxicated by your reaction to his action so he did it again and again, hard, stinging slaps as you rode his stiff, quivering cock harder and faster, fuck, Seokjin must be incredibly turned on because he was so fucking hard, just so incredibly sexy how hard he was right now, even the pain was nothing but an injection of added carnal pleasure, throwing your head back and sinking your nails into his skin, fucking him recklessly, forgetting about hiding your moans, who the fuck cared, not you and not him because Seokjin too was crying out, the sinful sound of sex echoing off his bedroom walls, except instead of you in your bedroom putting headphones on to drown him out, you were in his bedroom, doing it, fucking the daylights out of him.

Alright.

You could see why girls wanted to date your best friend now.

Seokjin was a loud dork, but he had a great dick.

“F-Fuck, Seokjin, fuck!”

He had a similar response, although it was more a choked garble of your name mixed with, “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

You must really be drunk on his dick because even that turned you on and tipped you over the edge.

Your thighs tensed and you moaned deeply, tucking your chin down and spreading your palms onto his pecs, wrists straining against the cotton rope, a rapid torrent of adrenaline soaring through you and then you smacked your ass down onto Seokjin’s crotch, whining as you came in vicious pulses of pleasure, clenching around his jerking length and you realized Seokjin was clutching your ass, pinning it down so you couldn’t move, shooting his release into the condom, so much that you felt his cock shudder and throb inside you, head buried in your deepest, most pleasurable spot, you feeling all of him and him feeling all of you.

Holy shit.

You almost saw stars.

“Hah… wow… I guess I can’t blame younger dudes for wanting this pussy…”

Your eyes weren’t open but your eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

“Shut up, Seokjin.”

-

“Come on, man! Look what you did!” Seokjin barked accusingly, pointing to his chest with red indents of your rings.

“Excuse me? I’m the one who has scratches and a bruised ass!”

“You’ve marred my beautiful skin! I should fine you!”

“Where’s that fuckin’ whip – get your naked ass back here, Kim Seokjin!”

-

Hm, well, maybe you would find your true love some other time. Maybe try gambling?

--

masterpost

[ahkaahshi]

a parenting moment [miya atsumu x reader]

pairing: miya atsumu x fem reader

genre: fluff

warning(s): none

word count: 2.3k

overview: when yours and atsumu’s five-year-old daughter gets into trouble at school, it’s up to him to practice his good parenting skills

note: though this is a reader insert story, it focuses more on atsumu’s relationship with his daughter and sheds some light on how I think he would be as a dad :) also I wrote this months ago and am just now posting lol hope you enjoy

Atsumu’s features settle into a look of discontentment as his honey colored eyes scan his young daughter’s short figure, taking note of her dirtied shoes and the slightly disheveled appearance of the French braids he’d woven into her dark hair that morning. Wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead and letting out a small sigh, he asks, “What happened, girly?”

She turns her (e/c) gaze towards the polished wooden flooring of the large gym and mutters, “I got in a fight at school and they made Mommy pick me up.”

Instead of towering over her, as he had inadvertently been doing before, Atsumu kneels down in front of her and places his hand on her shoulder. “Hey, look at me, (daughter’s name),” he requests, making her tilt her chin up the smallest amount so her eyes can meet his. When their gazes connect, he purses his lips before saying, “We’ll talk about it when we get home, ‘kay? Right now, Daddy’s gotta practice, so jus’ sit tight with Coach Foster for a bit ‘n hang out.”

She nods slowly and Atsumu lifts her light blue backpack off of her shoulders to carry it with him over to the bench beside the court where his team is currently running through serve-receive drills. The head coach gives him a small nod of acknowledgement and a promise that he’ll protect her from any rogue volleyballs as she takes a seat.

Knowing that his daughter’s safety is in good hands and that she’s occupied--since she had pulled out a notebook from her backpack to doodle and write in--gives Atsumu a sliver of comfort as he returns to his practice. It takes himself some time to get his thoughts off of her, however, given the situation.

Minutes earlier, you had appeared at the gym with (daughter’s name) and offered a brief explanation of the matter at hand. You’d had to pick her up from school after receiving a call that she’d gotten into trouble, but, because of your own responsibilities at work, you’d had to drop her off with your husband. According to what the teachers had explained, she had gotten into a physical altercation with another student that had ended in tears, screaming, a few scrapes, and a dropped popsicle--your daughter’s, unfortunately.

(Daughter’s name) was a well-behaved, studious girl--though she did have a bit of a wild, energetic streak in her, thanks to Atsumu--so to hear that she’d been involved in a fight was understandably shocking to both of you. Sure, she enjoyed roughhousing with her dad and her uncle, but you’d been adamant about reiterating that real fighting was not allowed.

Atsumu hated seeing his daughter so distressed. It broke his heart. Usually, she was upbeat and full of life, but, now, she looks so defeated and ashamed. In an attempt to cheer her up in any way he can, he enlists the help of Bokuto and Hinata to tell her funny stories during each water break; and while they provide her some temporary relief, the cloud of sadness casting a shadow over her still lingers.

Though she holds onto his hand and clings to his side during the commute back home, she’s unnaturally quiet, and goes straight to her room upon returning to the house. He decides it best to leave her alone for a bit, but he can’t ignore how quiet the house feels without the sound of her favorite show blaring from the television in the living room. To busy himself for some time while you’re at work and she’s in her room, Atsumu sets himself to whipping up a snack after he’s taken a shower, and icing his aching joints.

After preparing some onigiri that looks rather sloppy compared to that his brother always serves, Atsumu shuffles down the hallway towards his daughter’s room. Her door is open, so he can see her sitting on her bed with a selection of colored pencils strewn across the comforter, and one in her hand that she’s using to color in a project she has to complete for class.

“Hey, girly,” he greets her and stands in the doorway, “Wanna eat some onigiri with me?”

She doesn’t respond verbally, but nods her head without lifting it to look over at him. So, he walks into her room and plops down on the bed beside her, setting the plate down in front of him. Before he can even get so far as to offer her one of his homemade creations, he hears her sniffle loudly.

Turning his honey-colored gaze to her brings him to the realization that she's stopped coloring and, instead, has her hands pressed against her face as her body shakes with quiet sobs. His paternal instincts to protect and comfort her immediately kick in, and he pushes the plate aside so he can sling an arm around her shoulder to pull her closer to him.

“Hey, hey, li’l princess, what’s goin’ on?” he murmurs.

She leans closer to him but keeps her hands over her face. “It wasn’t my fault, Daddy,” she whimpers softly, the sound of her strained voice nearly shattering her father’s heart, “There’s a really, really mean girl in my class. She always pulls my hair, a-and takes my markers, and cuts in line so she gets the last orange popsicle--and that’s my favorite flavor--and... I hate her!”

Atsumu grabs a tissue to dab at the tears spilling down her cheeks once he gently moves her hands away from her face. He’s silent for a moment as the previous sadness he felt at his daughter’s suffering morphs into anger upon hearing that she was being bullied. “Didja hit ‘er 'cause she was bein’ mean?”

She nods and cries, “S-She pushed me during recess ‘nd I got mad and pushed her back,” before finally lifting her head to gaze up at him with watery, (e/c) eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt her, Daddy! I-I was just scared she was gonna hurt me!”

Wrapping both of his arms around her small frame, Atsumu brings her face to his chest and holds her tightly in his embrace in an attempt to comfort her. “It’s alright, (daughter’s name). Mommy ‘nd I will make sure this gets fixed, ‘kay?” The grip she has on the back of his t-shirt tightens slightly as she presses her face into his shoulder. One of his hands rubs her back to calm her down while the other smooths down any stray hairs sticking up from her head.

After a few minutes of crying, whimpering, and venting, she’s finally relaxed enough to let her dad lead her into the living room so they can sit and watch a few episodes of her favorite show together while snacking on onigiri.

“Hey,” he calls out to her, making her tear her wide-eyed gaze away from the television screen, “I know me, Mommy, ‘n Uncle ‘Samu always say that fightin’ ain’t the right way ta go about things, but I’m proud of ya for stickin’ up for yourself, girly.”

A small smile sprouts across her lips that’s made even cuter by the fact that her cheeks are puffing out from the amount of rice she has in her mouth. The sight makes him chuckle and ruffle her hair.

“But don’t go tellin’ Mommy I said that. Instead, use yer words, find one of the teachers, ‘n let ‘em deal with whoever’s givin’ ya trouble, alright?”

When she’s finished chewing her food, she replies, “M’kay.”

“Mind tellin’ me what started the fight in the first place?” he asks, one of his thick eyebrows raising in curiosity.

She twiddles her thumbs and slowly directs her gaze back to the television. “She made me drop my popsicle when she pushed me.”

“And it was your favorite flavor, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah...”

With a hearty laugh, he comments, “Man, you really are yer mom’s daughter, ya know that? She don’t mess around when food’s involved.”

The sounds of his daughter's giggles ripple through the air, sending waves of warmth over him as he continues telling her stories about all the times he’d dealt with you getting on his case about food or treat-related issues. He made sure to include an anecdote about a time when you’d nearly knocked him over after he’d jokingly swiped your candy bar during lunch in high school. 

Needless to say, he never did it again out of the fear that Osamu wouldn't let him live it down if he got destroyed by a high school girl over food. However, the passion and unrelenting desire he’d seen in your eyes that day had made him absolutely sure that you were the one for him.

By the time you step into the house a few hours later, your daughter--being the mature, young girl she was--has moved her schoolwork from her bedroom to the living room table to do her assignments while her dad snoozes on the couch. Upon noticing that she’s in a better mood than she had been when you’d dropped her off at the gym with Atsumu, your heart lifts slightly.

“Hey, honey,” you greet her as you slide off your shoes and set your purse down on a table in the entryway, “What’re you up to?”

She holds up a piece of paper with colored markings on it that vaguely resemble Atsumu’s tall figure holding what you assume to be a volleyball, along with a few, familiar faces in the background. “I have to draw a picture of what you and Daddy do at work to show my teacher.”

You smile at her and plant a kiss atop her head before commenting, “Looks good so far. You drew Bokuto-san’s hair perfectly.” She chuckles and quickly returns to her masterpiece, since your compliment seems to spur her to keep creating. “I’m gonna talk to Daddy, real quick, okay? I wanna see how you draw Omi-san’s hair when we’re done.”

With that said and your daughter on a mission to produce her version of the prickly, outside hitter on Atsumu’s team, you rouse your husband from his nap so the two of you can head into your room to talk about the situation. Once out of earshot, he explains what your daughter had told him and the two of you work together to devise a plan and time to speak with her teacher about the true story. Amazingly enough, this entire exchange occurrs without your usual, good-natured--but sometimes cumbersome--squabbling.

“Hey, ‘Tsumu,” you call out to him, reaching for his hand and wrapping your fingers around it gingerly. 

He had been on his way to the bedroom door so he could head to the kitchen and start making dinner while you showered, but he stops in his tracks and turns to face you once more. When your eyes meet, your heart skips a beat, like always.

Taking a deep breath, you tell him, “Even though we may argue from time to time about parenting, and you sometimes let her have just a tad too much sugar before conveniently deciding to take a nap so you don’t have to deal with her going berserk, there's nobody else in the world that I’d rather share a kid with than you. She loves you so much, and so do I.”

His unoccupied hand finds your waist to pull you closer to him, and he leans down towards you to plant a gentle kiss on your lips. As per usual, the tender moment you shared doesn’t last long, since he always has something smart to say. “What’s gotcha all sentimental, (f/n)? Does seein’ me doin’ fatherly things give ya the hots for me, or somethin’?”

“Oh, yeah, sleeping on the couch while our self-starter of a child does homework by herself is so fatherly.”

He frowns. “I had a long practice. Bein’ a professional athlete is hard work, baby.”

 With a sardonic smile on your face, you mention, “Working a nine-to-five is pretty tiring too, baby.”

“Fair,” he groans and slides his arms around your back, “But, seriously, what’s got you feelin’ all in love with me, huh?”

You snicker at his tone and the mischievous look on his face as you brush his golden hair away from his eyes before letting your hands come to rest on his cheeks. “It’s just that when I picked (daughter’s name) up from school today, she was all sad and mopey. Yet, when I come home after dropping her off with you, she’s all smiles and rainbows again. It just reminds me of how good you are to her and it makes me happy that she has you as a father.”

A genuine smile rather than a sly one appears on his lips, and you press your own against them to give him a few, affectionate kisses.

“You know I’d do anything for my favorite, li’l girl, (f/n). She’s only as good of a kid as she is 'cause of you, anyway.”

Your lips form a giddy grin, as if he’s a high school crush who’s just delivered the sweetest of compliments to you, and you allow him to pull you closer so he can shower you with more kisses. “I love you, baby,” you murmur as you plant another peck on his cheek.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

There’s a short moment of silence as he pulls you into a tight hug that seems to wash away all the stress that you didn't even realize had been building up within you at the day you’ve had. His breath fans across the tender skin of your neck when he nestles his face there and allows his hands to roam up and down your back. However, after the two of you release each other, you notice a sneaky smile playing at his lips that oftentimes makes you wary.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna go see (daughter’s name)’s rendition of Omi-Omi?”

Chuckling and following him out of the bedroom, you agree, “Wouldn’t miss it.”

masterlist ⭐︎ treat me to a coffee!

taglists (see pinned post on my blog for form)

general: @krynnza, @yamagucji​, @tendo-sxtori, @dinablossom, @newfriendjen, @devlovesramen, @ohbyunhunn, @aftcrlust, @mister-future, @kyleclxin, @kac-chowsballs, @osamusmiya, @nit-sir-hc, @arixtsukki, @shinsurou, @ichorizaki, @dominikmagnus​

atsumu: @pretty-setters, @misora-msby, @why-aminot-dead, @lotsoffandomrecs, @tsumue, @heyhinata

[angelguk]

→ bad behaviour 03 — a namjoon scenario

member: kim namjoon

word count: 7.5k

rating: 18+

genre: established relationship + smut + college!au 

warnings: we’re ovulating!!! / introduction to the breeding kink that will plague this couple forever / was meant 2 be a drabble?? im incapable we know that / eh big joon!!!! / manhandling kink / pet names used a lot / joon thinks he’s gf is dumb and wants to breed her idk man / size kink / crying when cumming / oc shy for once / discussion of twitter porn / creampie / oc is on birth control (obvs dont do this if u dont want a kid but this is a fanfic u know) / mentions of fisting porn / cock warming!! / if u see a typo no u dont

soundtracks: more than enough + morroco, alina baraz

prompt: “don’t you think there is always something unspoken between two people?” (Something Unspoken, Tennessee Williams).

It’s a rather serene Thursday afternoon, the late autumn breeze sweeping through the campus air. The stillness was ideal for studying, alluding to assignment deadlines creeping round the corner. Which was why your butt is firmly parked in the mess of Kim Namjoon's sheets.

The man in question is hunched in the corner of his dorm room, one large hand idly tugging at the chestnut mane on his head and his neck curved with attentiveness. You wish you possessed the determinate focus that he had, but your thoughts have a mind of their own, spiralling further into the darkest depths of your mind as they gingerly coax forth memories that spark a searing heat deep inside of you. You feel tight, drawn like the bow of an arrow, a stark contrast to the tranquillity spilling around you. The fact that Namjoon is practically naked isn’t helping your consciousness. Your gaze lingers on the rows of muscles lining his broad back, the tension running through them emphasising the dips and curves in his golden skin. His eyes, however, are glued to the myriad of words before him, the pen grasped in his grip swift as he scribbles down notes you know you’ll never be able to decipher. Not that you needed too, it was intriguing that such a put-together man like Namjoon had handwriting that essentially resembled chicken scratch. It was atrocious — but still elegant, very much embodying the person to whom the writing belonged to. You can’t recall what assignment he intended to complete today — something about the presentation of nihilism in Russian literature or whatever — but he’s devoted all his attention to it, meticulous in the numerous sticky notes and page markers that line the novel perched on his desk. It’s bent with the remembrance of his fingers, sepia-toned dogged-ear pages staring at the ceiling of his dorm room. Something blooms within you the longer you look at him, faint but strong like a tide shifting towards the shores. You don’t even register the slip of your laptop from your lap, legs sprawling open unconsciously. It spurs so quick you can’t even clamp down on it, the desire you have for the burly man bent over his world of words just a few steps away. But you know how much Namjoon values his academics. It’s with a muffled groan that you roll over, burrowing your face into his pillows in hopes that the wave will subside. It doesn't — crawling beneath your skin begging you to give in.

It’s the click of Namjoon’s pen that gets you, a sharp note that cuts through the burning of your body. Your thighs seal together, the slick that collects between your legs sticking to your core. With a sigh that you shift again, reaching out for your laptop. It’s best to look for a distraction, give him the space he needs to concentrate. At yet, your gaze can’t help but drift. He’s not covering an inch of skin, burly arms and thick thighs on display like he wants to tempt you. There are no words to describe how much you hate him —  nor how much you long to have him inside of you too.

You recall it with a jolt — the lave of his wide tongue against your folds, licking you apart with deft swift swipes that leave you weeping into his sheets more nights than you’d like to admit. You shuffle again, helpless to the yearnings of your mind. The heat on your inner thighs is a phantom. Namjoon likes to hold you down, press your hips into his sheets against the whims of your squirming. It’s the way he looks at you when you’re on the verge of tears, a wanton hunger in his eyes that unravels you fast. You can almost see it, thighs subconsciously nudging against each other. Then there’s the stretch of his fingers, larger than you own. He’s pushed you to the edge with just two of them before, persistent against that spot inside of you until he’s satisfied with the blissed slackness that descends upon your features. Then he’d add another, and another. There’s an undeclared thought between the two of you. You’ve noted the fisting porn in his Twitter bookmarks. Maybe one day you’ll have the guts to let him try.

For now, you swallow it down. Suffocate that longing until the embers burning within you smother to ashes. Your laptop returns to resting at an angle at your hip, gaze idling running through your readings. The words don’t sink in though, sitting on your skull before hastily floating away. There’s not much space for anything else but Namjoon at the moment, no matter how hard you try to reread the paragraphs or stare at your screen. You don’t even have to open the app on your phone to know what’s going on with your body. This is your first full ovulation with him. Usually, he’s preoccupied with assignments or TA responsibilities that cut your time together short, interrupting this part of your cycle and leaving you to your own devices. You hadn’t fully wormed your way into Namjoon’s life to demand all his attention just yet. This was still new, untested. Namjoon was independent and so sure of himself that telling your boyfriend that you needed him to stop focusing on his future to raw the crap out of you (multiple times) felt incredibly selfish.

You stare at the words in front of you until they swim, wishing you didn’t feel like this. Like you needed Namjoon to breathe. You can wait it out, maybe get what you’re dying for after post-studying cuddles and take-out. Even if it takes every ounce of your willpower to clasp your legs together and not jump the wonderfully large man that is your boyfriend.

Unbeknown to you, the same yearning that plagues you chips away at his resolve. A persistent want that wavers in the back of his mind, clamouring for attention, because even with his eyes stuck on the pages beneath him, he can sense your fidgeting.

Your attention span is incredibly short — Namjoon knows this. It ricochets off the walls even when you’re sitting still. It’s taken time, but Namjoon has gradually adjusted to it, muting the powerful waves of energy that radiate off of you when necessary. Today, however, is different. That energy he’s learnt to ignore eats him alive, sinking below his skin and leaving him buzzed as he scours his brain for any meaningful essay points. He keeps flipping through the pages of the novel, mind attempting and miserably failing to piece together a cohesive argument that correlates with the evidence he’s got highlighted in a loud neon yellow.

All because he can’t stop thinking about you.

He wants to blame it on the fact that he hasn’t seen you in a while (which is a blatant lie). Namjoon saw you two days ago. You were wearing that floral skirt that he loves, the fabric hiking up your thighs whenever you lined yourself against his side, snuggling deep into him like you never wanted to leave. He hates that skirt — hates it —  because now he can’t think of anything but it, thoughts blurring at the memory of your bare skin. Skin that he loves to mark, latch onto until violets and blues blossom. His mind is running before he can catch it, falling into a dangerous reminiscence of images that sit heavy in his gut. That stupid skirt flipped up your waist and his head between your thighs. Nothing feels as good as you do on his tongue. He loves the way you taste, the sounds that drift from your lips, the way your thighs twitch and tremor as you unravel underneath him. You get so loud when your high hits you. He knows his roommates have heard you before, but he truly doesn’t care. He loves hearing you scream his name, drives him to the brink of insanity if he’s being honest. Yet, it’s the way you look at him afterwards, a deliriousness swimming in your eyes that makes Namjoon want to keep you in his bed forever. Fuck you until you can’t walk without feeling him deep inside of you. Paint your skin so that everyone knows who you belong to.

His head hits the table with a muted thud, a low sighing escaping into the air. The tent in his loose shorts hurts. There’s a part of him that’s mortified — how could he get hard just from the thought of you when you're sitting right there on his bed? Perhaps it’s proof that you’ve invaded everything he is. His space, his heart, his mind.

“Namjoon?” You question, tone tentative in the silence that consumes him whole. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he grunts. And then his brain settles, a tightness in his stomach that he can’t deny. “Actually, no I’m not.”

You don’t even have time to register it before he's moving towards you. It's as if he's flown from his desk, gliding through the space between you to firmly plant himself on top of you. Your laptop is knocked to the side, lost in the muss of his bed sheets as Namjoon moulds himself into you. You can't help the breathless giggle that hits the air. It's cut by the weight of Namjoon on you. He's heavy, all hard muscles and broad shoulders. Your fingertips slip against the fabric of his shirt — 100% pure cotton because he's fastidious like that — a lightness forming in your chest just from the feel of him in your hands. He sighs and you melt, losing yourself in him as he burrows his head into the hollow of your neck. The kiss he places there is soft, but it hits like a torrent of rain, drowning you harshly. Your body ignites like the flame you wanted to smother was never extinguished. You cling to him, the only thing keeping you afloat in the wave of adoration that crashes into you.

"What are you doing? What's wrong?" You murmur, vibrating when he kisses you again. Namjoon hums in response, his wide hands shifting to settle on the back of your thighs, gently spreading your legs apart to nestle himself there. Your back jolts when you feel it — feel him. Hard and needy against your core, a heat radiating where you meet. The flutter in your eyes is automatic, brain shutting down when he rolls his hips. He nips your neck then, a light press of his teeth into the delicate skin. You stop breathing when he smothers the pain with a kiss, thoughts dissolving into the air as you stare at the ceiling of his dorm, thinking you're never going to let this man go.

"Namjoo—" His mouth is on you before you can even finish your sentence, swallowing the words with a gentle press of his lips until yours fall apart. Kissing him might be one of your favourite activities ever. He feels good against your lips, ginger but sure in how he works you open, drawing sighs from your throat like he was born to do so. It’s easy to give in, your hips moving against his and your fingers dragging through his hair. It’s with a soft gasp that you part, the air around you electric. His brown eyes are dark but they gaze at you with an adoration that makes your heart swell. There are moments where you feel it on the tip of your tongue, a proclamation that yearns to spill out. But it’s too early to say anything like that yet. So you draw him closer instead, the content laugh that floats from his throat caught in your mouth. This kiss is different, more desperate, a hope that he understands what you mean heavy in your chest. You think he does because he kisses you back with an intent that leaves you breathless, a heady thing that has you arching into him before it peters out into tender little pecks. Your heart is so full it could explode.

And it does a second later when he drops a light kiss on your forehead, his wide hands settling on the backs of your thighs as he presses himself further into you. You know he feels the slick drenching your underwear by the hitch in his breath.

“Study break?” He offers, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that ensnares you. A danger that glows like stars adorning a velvet sky.

“Namjoon,” you groan in response, legs wrapping around his waist. You can feel the length of him, hard and twitching against you. “You can’t just do that! It’s not fair.”

“Why? You don’t want me to fuck you?” There’s a nudge that coaxes another slip from your core. The whine that leaves your lips is instinctual.

“I do! It’s just that — um — just that I’m ovulating right now.”

The second the word leaves your mouth he freezes, broad body suspended over you and a distant look sweeping over his honey eyes. And then something clicks, his cock settling further into you, a twitch along his length that echoes in your nerves.

“Right now?” The words that leave his mouth are measured, his gaze locking on your own as if he’s weighing the consequences of his desires.

“Yes, right now. I don’t know if we—”

“Can I be honest with you? I haven’t been able to focus since you came over and the idea of you ovulating is doing nothing but making me extremely hard right now.”

“I — what? Really? Are you serious?”

He nods, unabashed as the blush rising beneath his golden skin. Your fingers dig further into his back, the want that sweeps through your system feral. It's so swift that you can’t control the rise of your hips nor the warmth that pools in your gut. Namjoon dissolves right back into you, the groan that slips from his mouth meeting the heat of your skin as he burrows himself back into the crook of your neck. You’re no longer thinking, your brain stuck on the feeling of his cock against you, direct with every drag of his hips.  He wants this as much as you do, a realisation that you’re still trying to comprehend. You have to ask again, terrified of the teetering edge you’re on.

“You sure? Like really?”

He scoffs, shifting back to give you a look. “You’ve seen my NSFW twitter, baby. You know what’s there.”

“Yeah, a lot more fisting porn than I ever expected.” There’s a beat of silence, Namjoon’s gaze shifting into something you can’t decipher. “Not that I’m against fisting,” you quickly amend, “It was just surprising.”

“Fair enough, but that wasn’t the only thing there.”

You know what he's referring to but seeing other people commit the act and then doing it yourself were too completely different things. There are still some things you’re too ashamed to say out loud and that particular kink of one of them. While your ovulation had a rather stronghold over you, so did your inner mortification.

Namjoon, on the other hand, cannot be bothered to beat around the bush. “You’ve seen what’s there right?" He repeats. "Creampies? Cum play? Breeding—”

“Don’t say that!”

He pauses, a playful grin tugging at his lips.”Is that what you want? Because you’re ovulating? What me to stuff—”

“Namjoon, stop it!”

He laughs then, a low sound dangerous that fills the room and swallows the embarrassment that eats away at you alive. “How can I? My pretty girl wants me to breed her, stuff her full of cum until it’s leaking from her cunt. You want that right? Want my cock so deep you feel it tomorrow? Am I right, baby? Hmm?”

You’re not looking at him, cheeks burning with every word parting his lips, but your cunt agrees wholeheartedly, leaking against your panties at the thought of Namjoon fucking you full. He doesn’t take your silence well though, a firm hand clasping around your jaw and tugging your focus right back into him. There's a glint in his eyes, a sharp dark wild thing.

“Baby.” He says it slowly, the word tumbling from his lips and right into the heat forming in your core. “Is that what you want?”

“Maybe,” you retort, feeling the twitch that tremors through his jaw deep inside of you. Namjoon scoffs, hand dropping from your chin. The absence of his touch has you scrambling after it, the movement occurring before you can bite back your desperation.

“Maybe? Then you don’t want it enough do you? I should leave you to study, don’t you think?”

“Namjoon.” Your fingers grip into his shirt before he can shift away, a pounding in your chest that terrifies you. “Maybe I do want it  — a lot — I just can't say it.”

“You can’t say it?” He cocks an eyebrow. “But you know how to use your words when you’re arguing with me.”

He’s infuriating and he’s doing it on purpose from the telltale gleam in his eyes. You don’t know what to despise more; Namjoon and his provocations or your inability to vocalise your desires. But that anger withers into wanting the second he settles back between your thighs, cock hard and heavy where you need him most. Yet, still, saying it out loud isn’t possible for you just yet. But you do want it, a great deal more than you’d ever admit.

“That’s different,” you say instead. “That’s when you’re being stupid.”

The eye-roll you're granted is brimming with exasperation. “Of course, you would say that.”

“And I’m correct.”

“Sure, you are,” Namjoon returns, nuzzling into your chest. He’s saying it to complacent you and it ticks you off

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You ask, a warning in your voice.

Namjoon sighs, perfect face burrowed between your boobs. “I’m not arguing with you right now. You look cute when you get mad and I’m hard enough as it. Besides, that’s not the point.”

That should not have you buzzing, the word cute sticking out from the rest of his horrid statement like a neon light in the dark. But you let it rest, preoccupied with the fact that:

a. Namjoon is horny

b. So are you

“So,” you say. “What was the point?”

“The point is that you’re too shy to say you want me to stuff you—”

Point B no longer exists. You are no longer horny even when he’s looking at you like that with that stupid lopsided grin of his.

“I get it,” you retort, “I get the point. And I’m not saying that. Not today, not ever.”

“Oh? Are you sure about that?” There’s a challenge there, and like an idiot you fall for it, raising an indignant eyebrow in response.

“Yes, I will not—”

He’s got the band of your sweatpants down in a second, wiggling the fabric down your hips and past your butt faster than you can blink. You don’t object, a muffled giggle drifting from your throat when he finally gets them off, tossing the pants somewhere in the corner of his room, something to be searched for later, not now. That giggle shifts to a moan the second his face dives between your thighs, the deep breath he takes in kindling a flame in your gut. There’s the faint press of his tongue through the cotton of your underwear, the low groan he lets out when he feels the wetness seeping through your panties setting something off within you.

“Oh — oh — N-Namjoon!”

“Yes, baby?” Another lick, tongue quick and firm against your drenched core.

“Don’t play with me. I can’t handle that right now.”

“I’m not playing,” he remarks. “Just giving you a reason to say you want me to stuff you full of my cum. I know you want to say it anyway.”

You huff. “You think I’ll give in that easi — hgnh.” He’s tearing your underwear off, tongue landing back onto your wet folds before you can register the fact that the fabric is gone. A few firm wet laves of that muscle against your cunt and you can see your resolve crumbling. He knows exactly where to lick and drag his tongue, nose buried into the apex of your cunt as if he wants to breathe you in. You can’t help the buck of your hips, a tremor running down your thighs when his tongue slips into your hole, pressing in with purpose and leaving you breathless in his sheets. But then he’s drawing away and you glance down to find him staring at your cunt in wonder, his rouge mouth glistening with your slick.

“How can I not,” Namjoon says, offering a kitten lick that spikes a shock in your spine, “Play with you when you’re so fun to play with, angel.” The smile on his lips is dangerous.

Your hand settles on his head and Namjoon curls into it. But instead of dragging your fingernails against his skull and pulling him closer like you know he loves, you shove him away, swiftly squeezing your thighs shut. If you’re going to play this game, you’re doing it on your terms.

“You’re not being fair,” you say. Namjoon blinks at you like you’re insane, obviously thinking with the dick in his pants rather than his head. “Go back to your Isaac Turganife or whatever.”

“It’s Ivan Turgenev, baby,” he replies, sighing slow. “And I don’t want to go? Do you really want me to?” He plants a tender kiss on your bare thigh and you burst with want, slick leaking out even though you didn’t intend it to.

“Not fair,” you say again. But you don’t want him to leave you like this, at the mercy of your hormones and the sudden remembrance of Namjoon’s thick cock stretching you open. “But no, I don’t want you to go. Just don’t play with me please.”

“Okay, that’s fine. But if we’re being honest here all I can think about is seeing my cum leak out of you. I just want you to want that as much as I do.” He says it in a rush like he’s afraid he won’t have the nerve to admit it if he doesn’t do it right now.

But I do, you think, walls fluttering just from the flash of that image in your mind. I do, Namjoon. And yet, you can’t say it.

“I’m ovulating, Namjoon,” you retort instead.

“And you’re also on birth control,” he rebuttals. “PEMDAS or whatever. It cancels out the baby option, right?”

“You are so dumb it hurts, Kim Namjoon,” you murmur, fighting the urge to kiss your stupid boyfriend. It’s a very odd conversation to be having when your cunt is on display and his dick is hard in his pants but you’re having it anyway.

“We’ve fucked raw before though?” He continues, still not piecing it together. “And so far, no baby. So no problem right?”

“When I’m not ovulating. Less risk, at least that’s what I like to believe.”

“Well I suggest you start believing that right now because I would very much like to see you stu—”

“Stop saying that you’re making me want to turn celibate!”

“Oh?” Namjoon remarks. “And yet you’re leaking all over my sheets every time I mention it.”

“I will cut you off from sex for a week if you say something like that again,” you retort.

Namjoon grins like he knows this is affecting you on a deeper level than your cunt being wet. “Fair enough, but I have to ask. Do you want that?”

“Want what?” Feigning ignorance is the safest bet until that shift in his eyes appears.

“Want my cum?” he says it so easily, unaffected while your face rushes with heat.“Inside of you, leaking out of you… All of it?”

And maybe you stop breathing at the thought of feeling full of everything Namjoon had to offer you, your walls clenching tight.

“Maybe. Maybe I do, I don’t know.” You do know and Namjoon knows that you do too. It’s with a defeated murmur that you admit it, voice soft in his room. “Okay, fine. I do. I want that.”

“You do?” There’s an edge in his voice. “You want me to bre—”

“Stop it before I change my mind.”

He laughs, a light warm thing that digs into your chest. “Okay, okay! Sorry, babe. Do you want me to prep you? My mouth? My fingers? You can decide.”

It’s settled so quick in your brain you realise it was never up for debate. “Neither. Just you. I just want you.”

He halts, honey eyes locked on yours for a moment, before springing to his feet and tugging his shirt over his head with speed. “We can do that,” he mumbles, his knees bumping against the foot of his bed. His pants come off next, plummeting to the ground where he kicks them off a moment later. It’s only then that you see the consequence of actions, straining painfully against his boxer briefs. He shifts to tug those off too but you cut the movement before it happens, shuffling forward until your hand is cupped around his length. Namjoon doesn’t protest, rolling into the tiny palm of your hand. You love the way he feels underneath your palm, thick and hard and heavy, a weight you long to feel inside of you. He sighs low when you grip him, watching your fingers wrap around the outline of his dick through the fabric. It’s only then that you realise, your gaze slipping down his body, subtly noting the sharp intake of breath when your lips mimic what he did to your underwear before he ripped it off, that Namjoon has been holding himself back.

He wants this, badly. It’s evident from the tightness in his voice when he speaks a moment later.

“Angel,” It’s said low, a warning. “I thought we said we wouldn’t play with each other.”

He’s right. With a small pout, you lean away and Namjoon wastes no time moving into your space, strong arms swapping your arm just to land you back at the head of his bed. You suddenly remember your laptop, lost in the mess of his sheets. Namjoon is kind enough to relocate it before climbing right back into your space, cock digging into your stomach when he kisses you again. It doesn’t take long before your top is gone, joining Namjoon’s pants on the floor, and then you’re digging the band of his underwear down, your lips still slotted together and a wetness rapidly forming between your thighs at the feel of his bare cock against you.

But he’s impatient, shuffling you around the second his length is freed. Your back is hard against his mattress, fingers grasping at the sheets when Namjoon knocks your knees apart. There’s a moment of bated breath, his large hands lingering against the bare skin of your exposed thigh, brown eyes locked on your wet folds. His gaze is so intense you instinctively want to clamp your legs shut, shy away from how seen you feel under his eyes. Yes, technically you were naked in his bed but there’s something else that he draws out just from looking at you. Something that makes you nervous because you like it so much.

“Don’t hide from me.” It’s whispered in the heat of the air, Namjoon picking up on how your legs drift together. He’s got them pressed apart a second later, grip firm but gentle, and your stomach does a swoop so dangerous you’re left violently reeling, the ceiling above you spinning. “Don’t do that, angel. Too pretty to hide from me. I want to see all of you.”

You can only hum in response, throat clogged with words that won’t form into coherent sounds. But Namjoon understands you regardless, kissing you senseless as his massive body descends on yours. His hands are on your ass a second later, gripping tight as his length nudges against your core. You just might cry, desperation bubbling in your chest. He draws away gently but you don’t want to let him leave, fingers taut on his broad back, gripping onto the very muscles that had you heady just earlier today. There’s a whine on your tongue that he swallows before you part once more. The laugh that slips from his lips at the sight of your pouted mouth is fond. He grants you another peck, soft and tender, before Namjoon rips himself away, determined this time.

His hips are lined against yours a moment later, cock stiff and dripping with precum. And yet your gaze doesn’t tear from the arms trapping you in his sheets. His biceps look huge, massive actually, all hard muscle and pure strength. It’s doing something to the base part of your brain because you can’t stop thinking about how large Namjoon is. Caving you in, your personal shelter from the world. Is it weird that you feel protected? Safe in the bed of this boy. You wouldn’t mind hiding here forever. A part of you wants to kiss him again, but Namjoon’s focused on other things, oblivious to the cave-woman looking for a mate thoughts running amok in your brain.

They dissipate the moment the head of his cock nudges at your entrance. Just a light tease, but he splits you open quick enough.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, angel. Didn’t need me to prep you at all.”

You mumble a noise that you’re not sure leaves your throat. He’s taking it slow on purpose, pushing in inch by inch so that you feel every part of him filling you up. It’s intoxicating, how the feeling of the slow drag of his cock overtakes everything in your brain. You’ll never get over how big Namjoon is, no matter how many times he fucks you. Each shift of his hips forward coaxing slick from your cunt. It pools at your entrance, dripping over his length until he’s glistening with your wetness.

“F-fuck,” He head drops down to the hollow of your neck the moment he’s sheathed inside, the velvet walls of your pussy gripping him hard. It’s too much for the both of you, bodies strung high on the want that threatened to consume you both. But he feels good like this, lodged in your cunt, stretching you wide and making a place for himself right between your legs. He gives you a moment to adjust and then the coiled spring in him snaps.

“So fucking tight around me, angel. Taking my cock so well.” There’s an edge in his voice, a warning for what’s to come.

You groan when he draws up, a tiny squeal erupting from your throat when he slams back down, hips angled to piston you into his sheets. The pounding is hard and unforgiving, a contradiction to the gentle look in his gaze. He holds you tight, giving you no room to shuffle under the bruise of his thrusts.

You can’t do anything but mumble his name, tongue numb in your mouth as he fucks you senseless.

“You’re dripping so much, baby. Making a mess on the sheets. You wanted my dick that bad, huh? Wanted me to fuck you full? Stuff this dirty cunt of yours?”

“J-Joon!” There’s an arch in your back, a dangerous tingle fluxing through your nerves when his mouth latches on your neck, your chests pressed against each other. Each drive into you pushes out a haggard breath, the heat into the room wrapping around your joint bodies, your arms slung over his shoulders, gripping him tight as he unravels you with his cock. Time stops, nothing punctuating the moment apart from the lewd sound of your meeting, your slick slipping from your cunt each time he hits deep. And he keeps at it, fucking you with a vigour that feels new and vicious.

You can feel him tensing beneath your fingertips, a soreness spreading through your muscles with every hard thrust of his hips into you. But you don’t care, delirious with the feeling of his cock deep within you, slamming right into that spot that has you dangling off the edge. The tight grip on your thighs adds to it, Namjoon pressing you down as he fucks you open like you’re nothing but a toy for his pleasure. He slams into you with abandon, his lips on your neck. Every drag is loud in the room, the slick pooling around your entrance orchestrating the sound of your meeting. You love how he feels over you, broad and big and pinning you down with an ease that shouldn't have you stomach twisting but it does. And he knows that, reading the whimpers that leave your throat well. You can feel it, the knot that tightens with every hard drive of him into you. So close, a blink of your eyes and you could be there. But then he slows, cock squelching against your entrance with a half-hearted thrust.

“Namjoon—" You’re burning, fingers scrambling to push his hips down, shove your hips up. Anything. Anything because if he gives you nothing you’ll implode.

“My baby is so quiet today. Hmm? Why are you so quiet? You don’t want my cum? Don’t want me to breed this tight little cunt of yours?” There’s a  in his tension colouring his deep voice, like he’s holding back from saying something. You want to ask but your needs are forefront in your mind clamouring for attention.

“Joon!” He nips your neck at that whine and you dissolve into his sheets, nothing but pleasure running through your limbs. “Namjoon please, please, please. I want it, Joon, need it.”

He cocks his head, a languid roll into your core that has you squirming underneath his hold. “Need what? Words baby, words.”

“Need your cum.” It’s shameful to say and the heat in your cheeks makes it obvious, Namjoon doesn’t care, shifting his hips so that his cock slowly slips out. Your legs clamp around him so quick that his chest smacks into yours, a muffled sigh escaping into the air.

“Need it where?” He says, hips rigid with how he holds himself back. It takes tenacity to make you work for it. You feel perfect around him, tight pussy stretched around his length and your slick dripping all over. So needy, so wet, velvet walls clinging to his cock leaving him weak even though he tries to hide it. You’re intoxicating, your heat, the feeling of your body moulded into his, the way you moan his name. He wants to hear you scream it though, hear your throat go hoarse with each cry until you're a blubbering mess in his bed. There are other things he wants too, but he needs to hear you say this first.

“Inside,” you reply, a perfect whimper drifting from your bruised lips. “Inside me, Namjoon, please.”

He gives in then and there, resolve shattering when his gaze drifts to the minuscule grind of your hips against his own, his cock sinking deep with every shift of your waist upward. It’s not long until he’s sheathed back inside of you, length twitching against the heat of your walls. He wants to take it slow, make you beg for him a little more, but there’s a weight in his gut that threatens to drop. And then his focus shifts to the span of your stomach and it slams into him so quick he nearly chokes. He may joke about it as a kink, the idea of fucking you until you were bearing his child, but the actual vision of your stomach swelling hadn’t occurred in his thoughts until right then. You would look ethereal, round with evidence of his love for you. He can’t help the palm that settles there as his hips slowly rut forward, forcing himself deeper, needing to see you stretch out for him.

“Joon,” you sigh, shuddering at the press of his balls against your ass.

He hums, thoughtful, dark eyes lingering on the sway of your chest. “Yes, baby?”

“Harder, please, harder.”

“Anything my baby wants, she gets. Isn’t that right, princess.” And then he’s falling out of you, quick when he slams back down. Your voice sounds foreign to your eyes, brain roughly registering the harsh feeling of his hands as he swiftly rearranges you, cock still buried deep, until your knees are folded over his broad shoulders. The quake in your thighs is violent. But you don’t protest, mind unable to shift from the hard pistons he delivers into your cunt, thrusts demanding your release. There’s the sway of the bed beneath you, soft sheets bundling underneath the weight of your joint bodies, a heaviness in the air you breathe. He fucks you with a purpose that wasn’t there before, as if he needs to see you stuffed with his cum, unravelling around his length, a mess beneath him.

And you give it to him, shuddering when his fingertips sneak to your clit, the flickers he lands there unfaltering. That combined with the steady drag of his cock has your vision blanking, contentment spilling through your nerves as your high hits. It’s quick; a hard fast thing and spreads right from your core and through your system. Namjoon fucks you through it, swallowing your incoherent mumbling with a deft press of his lips against yours. You don’t realise you’re crying until he swipes a thumb along your cheeks, dropping a kiss on the damp skin of your face.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs. You don’t miss how his hips speed up, muscles tense underneath your trembling fingertips. “So pretty. My pretty girl.”

“Cum in me,” you reply, breaking away to catch his gaze. Namjoon chokes, hips faltering. You don’t let him process it, still riding high on the look colouring his features. This is what he wanted from you, and you’re drunk enough on the feeling of him deep inside of you to say it. There’s still a tremor in your walls that grips him tight and you aid it by raising your hips upwards, the bend uncomfortable but worth the darkness that consumes the brown of his eyes. A part of you wants to say it again and you do, voice low in the room. “Joon, I need you. Need to feel full.”

“Fuck me.” It’s said under his breath but you don’t miss it, stomach twisting when his cock slams into you. It’s hard and mean. Namjoon takes everything you’re giving him, folding you into his mattress and driving his hips hard enough for the bed-frame to shift, a low thud against his bedroom wall. You let him have his way, groaning into his ear, the sheen of sweat that builds on both your bare bodies glimmering under the dwindling glow of the sunlight. There’s a faint tepid heat flickering in your core and it sparks up when Namjoon lands a hard kiss on the span of your neck, moaning low as he splits you open on his cock.

“So fucking tight.” There’s a hitch in your rugged breathing, your grip on his ruined sheets fierce. “So wet. All for me. All mine. Right, baby? This is mine, isn’t it?”

“Yours,” you whisper in return, lost in the feeling of him enclosing you in. “All yours.”

His lips are soft against your own, a delicate press of his mouth that doesn’t match how hard he’s fucking you. But you revel in it, rupturing into something bright and wild and full of love underneath the piston of his hips. It’s good now, the sensitivity you felt a moment ago ebbing into nothing but heat and want. You don’t miss how he twitches against your walls, thrusts growing erratic with every lewd slam of his length inside of you. And you want it, reminding Namjoon of that fact with wicked whispers in his ear. He caves fast, a few last hard rolls before he paints your walls in his release, the moan he lets out bleeding into your skin. You’re on edge now, the feeling of Namjoon’s cum coating your cunt when you’re at peak fertility doing something stupid to your brain. It shouldn’t turn you on — in fact you should be terrified. You weren’t ready to be a parent, yet the weight of him on you, the spurt of cum that slips from your cunt when he draws again, sends your spiralling. It’s swift, the swing of your legs back around his waist.

“No — don’t, don’t move. Not yet.”

Namjoon pauses, checks still warm and his skin a pretty golden rouge. You don’t enjoy the way he reads you.

“We can’t cuddle like this. Remember what we did last time? The cockwarming?” He suggests it easily. He gets what this is doing to you even when you don’t understand it at all. You nod because the idea of Namjoon not lodged inside you sounds abhorrent. He shifts the both of you quick enough, his softening dick back to half-mast the moment your protest emerged. It’s easier like this, with you sprawled on his broad chest. You don’t want to acknowledge it but you’re still somewhat wound up and the feeling of him holding you close, your cunt stuffed full of his cum, is doing unimaginable things to your brain. You pretend it isn’t, snuggling into the valley of his massive chest, feeling safe and secure. And then Namjoon opens his mouth.

“We’re going to have to talk about this. You know that right?”

“No, we don’t have to talk about it. Ever. Pretend this never happened.”

His laughs echoes in your heart. “Baby, I just came in you and you’re ovulating. That’s fairly risky, don’t you think?”

“I told you!” You whack his arm for good measure. “I told you it was dumb.”

“But I liked it,” Namjoon continues, staring intently at the ceiling. “A lot.” You flutter, cheeks hot at his admission, a bubbling in your chest that shouldn’t be there. “And judging from how you’re using my dick to keep my cum inside of you, I’m guessing you liked it too.”

“...Maybe.” You hate it but he’s right. You liked having him use you like that, the prospect of his cum doing more than leaving you euphoric with satisfaction lingering in the depths of your mind.

“Maybe?” He scoffs, wide hand gently pushing you off his chest despite the whine you release. “Get off then, I need to check if my dick is intact. I think I saw the fifth dimension when I came.”

“Shut up, please!” You cling to your boyfriend, viciously wiggling around until you feel him twitch inside of you. It’s too nice of a feeling to lose just yet. “Why are you ruining it?”

“Why can’t you admit what you’re into? Speaking of that subject, I don’t know what your kinks really are. So far there’s been a bit more exhibitionism than I expected from you but the breeding one… is different. Not bad. Just different,” he suddenly rambles.

“Because it’s embarrassing.” Your voice is small, landing on his naked chest in the silence of his room. His hand shifts from shoving you off to gingerly resting on you back, rough fingertips languidly tracing patterns on your skin. The motion is reassuring, yet you can still hear the eye roll in his voice when he speaks.

“You’ve seen the fisting porn on my NSFW twitter, what the hell do you mean embarrassing?”

“It just is!” You protest. “I’m not sure what I’m into.”

“I think you are, you’re just not comfortable admitting it to yourself. Don’t you watch porn? Or have any particular fantasies?” Namjoon’s persistent despite your deflection and while some part of you hates it, you know he’s right. He always is — well most of the time.

“I do,” you retort instead, refusing to give him an ounce of triumph. “You know that don’t be dumb.”

“Well then,” Namjoon returns, curiosity colouring his voice, “What’s your NSFW twitter? I’ve shown you mine, let me see yours.”

“I don’t have one…”

There’s a pause, the hand on your back drawing to a halt. You can hear the cogs in his head turning.

“You don’t? What do you use then?”

“...Yours,” you whisper. The breath that falls from his lips is horrified. “I like most of the stuff you like,” you quickly tack on. Somehow this is more shameful than admitting that you like being stuffed with Namjoon’s cum. The silence carries on and you're left stewing in your thoughts, looking for a way out of this awkward mess when Namjoon starts up again, a tentativeness in his tone that concerns you.

“Most of what I like,” he says. Another pause. “... Including the fisting porn?”

“Namjoon,” you snap, “Shut up.” You can’t believe you’re allowing this man to plug his dick in you after sex, can’t believe it at all. It’s a horrible realisation to come too especially when he breaks out into a loud laugh, his chest shuffling you around with every quick intake of air and the sound of his glee resounding in your heart.

“Sorry, angel,” he offers between muffled laughs. You hate him. You do even if you love him ten times more than you hate him. “We should make you one after this,” Namjoon says. “And then get food. Sounds good with you?”

“Food first,” you retort, mellow in the arms of your lover. “And then the Twitter porn.”

[fuwafuwamedb]

I’ll Just Be The Servant (Rin/Hakuno)

“Kishinami!”

The book slammed down in front of her before she could even look up. Her eyes trailing up the red sleeved arm to where Rin’s expectant expression lay. Those blue eyes gleamed proudly as she stood before her.

“You are welcome. I’ve found the perfect beginners magecraft book to help you become a decent magus.”

“How kind of you.”

She was still really close, moving to sit down next to her as she said that. Her chin probably couldn’t go much higher up without risk of a neck condition. Her body was right against her side, hip to hip with her.

Her hands grabbed the book again, flipping it open.

“You’ll have to start with some notes I’ve taken the liberty of adding. If we’re going to be here in this Chaldea place together, then we need to represent our home well. That means that you and I are going to need to work together to improve your talents.”

“Talents?”

“Well- You do have some promise, Kishinami.” Rin waved a hand dismissively. “With my expertise and your tenacity, we should be able to improve your skills quite a bit.”

It was almost a full compliment.

Hakuno stared at her a moment before shaking her head. It was probably the sheer number of people here that was messing with Rin’s pride. Barely twenty four hours into their stay here in this strange place, Chaldea, and they’d seen not one, not two, but thirty servants currently working under Gudako Fujimaru.

The redhead and laughed at the observation, going on and on about the collection and how they just turned up.

“Kishi-“

“You know you can call me Hakuno, right?”

Rin paused, those blue eyes blinking a second before she coughed a little. “Yes, well… Hakuno.”

“Yes?”

“You need to focus. You and I are going to be working together from here on out. We need to summon our own servant.”

Why though?

Hakuno hummed a bit, glancing at the books a moment before her attention returned to the mage next to her.

Honestly, Gudako could summon all the servants from the grail. Servants were draining. They all required attention, there was various problems that couldn’t be ignored when you had one, their energy was based on yours, they always had the opportunity to tune right in on your mind to communicate with you; it was just more trouble than they were worth.

It was almost easier just to have a lover.

“-When we’re done reviewing this section on mana, we can begin to utilize ways of increasing and storing mana. As you know, my gem magecraft is a great start, but the information here could help us both improve. We could get stronger than Gudako easily.”

Ah, she was jealous then.

Her eyes went to the book again as that voice continued, her body was still really close.

“Hey Rin?”

“What is it?”

“Can I see your hand for a moment?”

Frowning, Rin held up her hand. The chance was too perfect.

There was a red marker in her welcome binder still. Pulling it out, she popped the cap off and made what was close enough to her old marks on the woman’s hand.

“Hakuno!”

“There. You have three command spells for me.” She couldn’t help it, she flashed the woman a grin. “I’m not the strongest servant, but I’ll do my best under your command. I don’t think Gudako can proudly declare that she got another master as one of her servants.”

The open mouthed thing was cute, those eyes gleaming a little as Hakuno moved to stand up. It was all she could do really. She pressed her lips to the woman’s knuckles and headed away.

“H-Hakuno!”

“I’ll see you later, Rin! I’m going to take a nap before we train together!”

Her face met a gold-armored chest, a small sound escaping her.

“Ah, sorry.”

She needed to pay better attention. Teasing Rin was just fun though.

She’d have to learn how to be a good servant later.

[i-am-gun-robot]

So! On AO3 I gave you my headcanon for how troll aging works: 30 years to hatch from birthstones (which is canon, at least according to wikia), then it’s 1 troll year = 8 human years, since 16 is potty training age for troll whelps. Potentially this rate gets a little slower once they reach adulthood.

You said you had your own headcanons for how it worked, so I’m curious to what they are? I think you said you saw Callista as being the troll equivalent of 18-19, and she’d been in the dungeons for 300 years. So 1 troll year = 16ish human years? I think? I’m terrible at math 😂

Edit: I’m still getting used to tumblr, messed up the cut lmao. 

Oof, math is not my strong suit either lmao. I don't exactly have an equivalent math-wise between human and troll years, I headcanon that they develop super differently from each other! I made a whole chart for how ages line up forever ago, before I learned that the oldest recorded troll age is supposed to be a little over 3000. I'm too attached to the ideas I came up with, though, so I'm ignoring canon on that one! I made trolls like, stupidly long-lived, whoops.

This ended up being a monster of a post, so I put it under the cut lmao. I'm sort of a headcanon gremlin, so prepare yourself!

The first category of age would be Whelps, which is both a term for the equivalent to a human toddler, as well as a bridge term for trolls from the age of hatching to the age of 110.

Eggs: 30 years to hatch from a birthstone, varies depending on species of troll.

Hatchlings/Whelplings: (Age 0-20) These trolls are babies! At age 3 they start to understand language, but most hatchlings don't begin speaking until around 10 years. They begin potty-training around 16 yrs. This is a time where young trolls bond with family, become familiar with scents and body language, and sleep a lot.

Whelps: (Age 20-100) This is the human equivalent of the toddler stage! Whelps at this age master the use of language, improve motor control, and learn about the world around them. Some whelps will begin to read around this age, or be taught basic combat, but mostly will be play fighting and familiarizing themselves with understanding things around them.

The second category is younglings. Youngling is a bridge term for trolls from the age of 110 to the age of 500.

Cubs/pups/calfs: (Age 100-300) This is the human equivalent of ages 4-10. They are broadly referred to as younglings. Trolls at this age will be doing a lot of playfighting, a lot of learning, and a lot of exploring. This where more formal education comes in, mostly from parents but occasionally from another troll. Cubs will be introduced to a few weapons under careful supervision and instruction. They also may learn a trade under a trusted friend or family member. This is the time to learn about culture, history, and purpose.

Elverlings/Eftlings: (Age 300-350) This is the human equivalent of 10-13 year olds. Trolls at this age will begin training a bit more seriously. They will learn more combat, learn the ins-and-outs of troll law and tradition, and learn a trade. Trolls this age will be able to explore more outside their home, but still under the eye of a guardian. They will also take a lot more responsibility in the care of their homes, sometimes more than their parents.

Elvers/Epochlings: (Age 350-450) This is the human equivalent of a teenager (13-18). Trolls this age might begin working, will become a master of at least one weapon, will become knowledgeable on most of troll history/tradition/laws, and will explore outside the home more independently. It's acceptable for trolls around this age to start drinking glug, getting in fights, and deciding what profession they want to choose. It's a time for moving more independently in the world while still having the guidance of their parents. Visiting other troll dwellings is not uncommon in this time. Many trolls will experience romantic feelings around this time as well. Trolls around this age are also permitted to learn about magic if they wish under the guidance of an elder.

Epoch: (Age 450-500) This is the human equivalent of an older teen (18-20). Trolls this age will start getting tattoos, perhaps move out of home, and dedicate themselves to a profession. It is acceptable for trolls this age to have a bond-mate, but not children. Trolls this age can learn more about magic if they wish, but are not permitted to learn how to use it. This is a celebratory time for young trolls, a big developmental marker. Trolls at this age will probably master a craft they're learning, or become highly skilled at something or another. They also have full independence from their parents. It's a transitional time, and many young trolls will have doubts or insecurities.

The third and final category is adulthood! This includes trolls from 500-8000 years old.

Young Adults: (Age 500-1000) This is the human equivalent of 20-25 year olds. Trolls this age are expected to contribute to society, work hard, protect their dwellings, respect their elders, etc. They don't get a lot of respect due to their age. Many trolls around this time take up fighting as a pastime, but it really is seen as a time to buckle down and work. Some trolls at this age will move cities, or become nomadic. Exploring is natural at this age, if not completely encouraged. Calling trolls this age a youngling is a major snub.

Adults: (Age 1000-2250) This is the human equivalent of 25-30 years. Trolls at this age are known for being workers, protectors, or explorers. It is technically socially acceptable to have children at this age, but is often frowned upon by older trolls. Most trolls by this time will have settled into the role they picked in society, and are thriving. Those who have not are looked down on. Trolls this age are permitted to be more active in political and social affairs, but mostly as muscle for older and more experienced trolls. If a troll is going to find a bond-mate, most will do it by the end of this age.

Respectable Adults: (Age 2250-4000) The human equivalent of 30-45. Trolls this age are respected and well established in their communities. They are masters of their crafts and teachers to younger trolls. Being politically active is encouraged. It is acceptable to have a family at this point in a troll's life. If a troll at this age comes up with a new idea, it will likely be considered. Being a leader in combat at this age is not uncommon. These trolls make large impacts on their communities.

'Middle' Aged: (Age 4000-6000) Human equivalent of 45-75. Trolls don't really have a separate term for this age group, but trolls this age are especially respected and revered. Many trolls are felled before this time, so their wisdom is seen as unique and important. Trolls this age may start winding down. They may take up calmer hobbies, or focus more on social aspects of society. Learning magic is not uncommon at this age. Being taught by these trolls is a big deal. These trolls are mentors, pillars of their community, leaders.

Elders: (Age 6000-8000) Human equivalent of 75-100 years. These trolls are ancient and highly respected. Living that long is not an easy feat. These trolls will often be in charge of their communities, or at least have a large say in social matters. Trolls this age don't participate in much combat, but will occasionally teach it. Being taught by a troll this age is a high honor. These trolls will often master magic, and finish writing books. Trolls this age don’t participate in combat, but may teach it. At around 7500, elders will begin the process of dying. If they die naturally, they will leave the beginning of a heartstone behind. That is not where heartstones originate from, though.

Callista is in her Epoch, and was taken around the age 125 years, but she doesn't really have a good grip on how old she was. She's been in the dungeons for around 325 years, making her one of the first trolls captured! It was really hard on her since she was so young, but there was a certain someone watching out for her. Someone had to teach her how to make armour, after all! Most trolls assume Jim is an Epoch or Elver, but he smells way younger, which is super confusing to them.

WHOO that was a long one, hopefully it makes sense??

[vxlkyrie]

letters to you

pairing: spencer reid x reader

genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers!au

warning: cursing, mentions of alcohol

word count: 7.0k

summary: uh oh, spencer wasn’t supposed to see those

a/n: maeve didn’t die nor have a stalker and we stan her and anderson in this household. also i broke my own heart writing this :) enjoy! (also i hate that some of the text isn’t italicized on mobile i want to cry)

“hey y/n, whatchu writing in your diary?” derek smirked as walked through the office.

“none of your business. and it’s not a diary, it’s a journal.” you rolled your eyes as you continued writing.

“and what do you write in your so-called journal?”

“whatever i want. usually thoughts i have when i’m finished with a case.” you shrugged.

“so basically a diary,” he laughed, leaning on your desk. “can i see what you’ve been writing?” he tried to lean over your notebook. your eyes widened.

“no!” you shouted as you slammed your notebook shut, making derek jump up a little. “s-sorry morgan. it’s just that it’s very personal.”

“don’t worry about it. i understand.” he smiled at you, kissing your forehead before going back to his desk.

it’s true that you use your journal to write down your feelings. you weren’t that open on talking about your feelings, so you took an unused notebook and filled up the pages with your rants, whether it was about stressing over a case or having to deal with your bitchy landlord. but you also use that journal to write down your feelings towards a certain boy genius (who actually suggested that you should write down your thoughts in a journal).

you weren’t sure when you started seeing spencer, your best friend, in a different light. maybe it was when he would bring you coffee and a muffin practically everyday. maybe it was when you started to find his fact dumps endearing. maybe it’s when he would cuddle you when you two would have movie nights together.

whatever the exact moment was that made you fall in love with him, you weren’t ready to tell him about your feelings. so, shortly after starting your notebook, you started writing down “love letters” that were addressed to him. you found yourself writing out confessions, moments where you found spencer being adorable, even dates you would have if you two were together (all the cheesy stuff).

dear spencer,

i love you – as more than just a friend.

yes, you are my best friend. you are always there for me when i need someone to get me energized when i didn’t get enough sleep the night before. you are always there for me when i need to tell someone about a shitty date. you are always there for me when i just need a hug after finishing a week-long case. and before i knew it, i found myself falling in love with you.

i wish that i can just tell you how i feel in person, but you know that i’m not that good with expressing my feelings verbally, so i decided to write them down instead. even then, this page isn’t enough to explain what i love about you and how much i love you.

love, y/n

dear spencer,

there are so many times where i just find you cute.

your eyes lighting up after you found out that doctor who is being renewed for another season. your smile after everyone complimented your new haircut. even your little dance after i bought you half a dozen of your favorite donuts.

i could go on forever and list every moment i have found you adorable. my heart starts beating faster just by the sight of seeing you be happy. i know you’ve been through a lot, and you deserve happiness. i hope that someday i can give you that.

love, y/n

dear spencer,

i might not be the most romantic person, but i can’t help but daydream about the cute and cheesy dates we would have.

we could go to the aquarium and you can tell me everything you know about every creature we see. we could visit the art museum and we could point out the small details in each piece. we could even go to the smithsonian!

but we could also go on small cafe dates. maybe go to the bookstore and you could recommend me your favorites (i’ve been trying to read more). we could even just have a night in and have dinner and cuddle while we watch true crime shows and point out their mistakes and make our own profiles.

now that i think about, being with you would be the same as we are now, just with handholding and kissing.

love, y/n

did writing them down help with your feelings? yes.

were you ever going to send him those letters? absolutely fucking not.

“hey y/n!” a voice called. you looked up to see spencer smiling at you from his desk.

“hey spence, what’s up?”

“i’m almost done with my paperwork, wanna grab dinner after? i’m buying.” he asked. your eyes lit up.

“yeah, sure!” you smiled back.

“great! just give me like 15 more minutes.” he said. you nodded, finishing the last file before handing it in to hotch.

-

“oh my god, this food is amazing!” you exclaimed, taking a bite of your dish as spencer chuckled at you. “have some.” you gestured at your food. spencer smiled at you as he grabbed a fork full and placed it in his mouth.

“wow, that is delicious.” he nodded in approval.

“i know right!” you smiled.

“anyways, there’s something i wanted to tell you, y/n.” spencer said. your eyes immediately widened.

does he like me and he’s finally going to confess?

does he know that i like him and he’s trying to let me down easily?

or is it something completely unrelated?

your heart raced as millions of scenarios that could possibly happen at this moment played in your head.

“of course. you know you can tell me anything.” you reassured, grinning at him.

“i know,” he grinned back. “you know that one girl, maeve?”

“that geneticist you’ve been talking to for your migraines? yeah, what about her?” you raised an eyebrow.

“i finally had the guts to ask her out – and she said yes!” he smiled.

oh.

you felt your heart shatter into a million pieces. you wanted to just get up and run and never talk to him again, but you couldn’t. you knew that he deserved to be happy – even if it wasn’t with you.

“you didn’t tell me you like her!” you happily exclaimed, putting on a facade.

“i’m sorry! we were so caught up with work and i didn’t even know if her and i would even work out. and if morgan ever found out, he wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.” spencer rambled on.

“is that why you’ve been acting weird and leaving at the most random times?” you raised a teasing eyebrow at him.

“so if our unsub killed our victims here, here, and here,” spencer said as he dotted the map on the board with a marker. “then he could live anywhere around here” he finished as he draw a circle that connected the dots.

“do you think he would live in the middle?” you asked. 

before he could answer, spencer’s phone suddenly started ringing, causing the tall man to reach into his pocket to check who was calling. you peeked over to see a random number display across his screen.

“excuse me.” he said as he quickly left the room.

that’s weird. he never answers calls if it’s not from anyone on the team.

“what’s that about?” emily asked. you shrugged in response.

a few minutes later, spencer returned to the room with a big smile on his face.

“who called?” you asked him. spencer had a panicked look on his face shortly before he switched to a more calm manner.

“oh, my mom.” he lied, which no one seemed to notice.

“yeah,” he shyly nodded. “i’ve been calling her for the past few weeks.”

“that’s great spence! i’m so happy for you!” you smiled widely.

“thank you, y/n. it really means a lot coming from you.” he said, gently grabbing your hand.

please don’t do that. please don’t break my heart into even more pieces.

you slowly pulled your hand away from him, earning a slightly confused expression from spencer.

“so, tell me more about maeve.” you said, making sure he can’t read through you.

“well...”

spencer continued talking as you silently listened and ate the rest of your food (although your appetite has been ruined), talking about maeve’s incredible work in her field and her favorite books. you tried your best to keep your happiest expression on as you hear your best friend (and crush) gush over someone else.

wow, she’s perfect for him.

“she sounds amazing, spence.” you tried your best to smile at him.

as soon as you got back to your place, you finally let the tears flow out of your eyes , sliding down your front door. your body trembled as loud sobs left your mouth, even the hand that was placed over it couldn’t muffle the sounds of your cries and breaking heart.

when you find yourself calming down, you walked into your room and changed into your pajamas as you tried to catch your breath. you unpacked your work bag at your desk. as soon as you took out your journal, you immediately turned to the pages that contained your unsent confessions.

of course he doesn’t like you, stupid. he never did.

you ripped the letters from the spine of your notebook and threw them onto your desk. ignoring the mess you just created, you walked to your bed to get some shut-eye as you let more tears run down your face.

-

you couldn’t let yourself be sad anymore. you had to walk back into work the next day with a smile on your face, making sure none of your coworkers could tell that you were breaking. you let yourself get distracted with cases and paperwork, and even continued talking to spencer like you normally would (because he would definitely notice something was up if you had suddenly stopped). over the next few weeks, you find yourself actually befriending maeve.

“hey spence!” an unfamiliar, yet honey-like voiced called out, causing everyone to turn away from their work. you looked up to see a woman with dark auburn hair carrying a brown paper bag as she walked towards spencer’s desk.

wow, she’s really pretty.

“hey, maeve.” he smiled, placing a kiss on her cheek.

“spencer, how come you didn’t tell us you had a girlfriend?” derek smirked at him.

“we just started dating. everyone, this is maeve.” spencer introduced to the team. everyone said their quick hello’s while you got up from your seat and walked up to the couple.

“so you’re the girl my best friend has been talking to,” you genuinely smiled at her. “hi, i’m y/n.” you said, offering your hand to her.

“it’s nice to meet you! i’ve heard so much about you!” she smiled back at you as she reached out to shake your hand. you raised your eyebrows in surprise.

fuck, and she’s really nice too.

sometimes, maeve would come visit the bau and eat lunch with you and spencer.

“on my way here, i saw that this one clothing store was having a sale.” maeve said as she took a bite out of her lunch.

“oh i saw that!” you exclaimed. “i heard that they were closing, so they decided to have a huge sale. it’s sad to see them go.”

“we should stop by sometime! i think i saw a really cute dress that i wanted to try out.” maeve suggested to you.

honestly, you didn’t feel like a third wheel. it actually feels good to be getting along with spencer’s girlfriend.

“that sounds like fun.” spencer chirped.

“shhh, babe, the girls are talking,” maeve joked as he pouted, causing you to laugh. “i’m kidding! you can come along if you want.” she grabbed his hand as he gave her literal heart eyes.

you felt your heart sting a little.

you would talk to maeve when spencer would bring her over to a family dinner at rossi’s.

“he did what now?” maeve’s jaw dropped in excitement as you told her a story about her boyfriend.

“y/n, don’t tell her, please.” spencer pleaded.

“no, y/n, tell me.” maeve encouraged.

“yeah, y/n, tell her.” derek joined in, placing his head on his hand as he leaned in to listen.

“fine,” you sighed. “spencer wanted to show me how great he is at nunchucks. it was going pretty well, until he accidentally hit his...well, his man parts.” you explained. maeve bursted out laughing along with the others.

“hey!” spencer pouted as he nudged your shoulder with his.

“i’m sorry, it was funny.” you giggled as he ruffled your hair.

“well, now i know what to not get you for your birthday.” maeve smiled. spencer laughed, giving her a kiss on the lips.

you tried your best to not grimace.

you even invited her for a girls’ night out with the rest of the bau ladies.

“thank you for inviting me!” maeve said, giving you a hug.

“oh it’s nothing. you’re dating spencer, so that means you’re a part of our family now.” emily grinned at her.

“and you look amazing. i see that you’re wearing that dress you bought when we went shopping together.” you added.

“you’ve noticed! and thank you for convincing me to buy it, i love it so much.” maeve smiled.

“we’re back with drinks!” penelope yelled as she and jj walked back with a tray full of alcohol. “oh my god, maeve, you’re here!” she smiled at her.

“i am.” maeve laughed.

“oh my god, i forgot to get you a drink! i’m so sorry, i didn’t know what to get you.” penelope practically cried.

“that’s fine, i can go grab something real quick.” maeve stood up from her seat.

“i’ll come with you. i’ll pay for the drink!” penelope said as she followed her back to the bar.

you, emily, and jj took a sip of your drinks.

“so, y/n,” emily started, causing you to turn your head towards her in confusion. “are you okay with all of this?”

“all of what?” you furrowed your eyebrows.

“maeve and spencer dating.” she answered. your eyes slightly widened.

“yeah, i’m okay with it. why wouldn’t i be okay with it?”

“because we know you’re in love with spencer.” jj said. you almost choke on your drink.

“i’m not!” you immediately denied. “he’s my best friend.”

“y/n, you might not be that open with your feelings, but we can tell that you like spencer and that him dating someone else is hurting you.” jj explained, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“and we might’ve read your journal.” emily muttered. you sighed.

“yes, i do like him, but i can’t do anything about it. he looks so happy lately and maeve is such a sweet girl. they’re perfect for each other and i don’t want to ruin that for them.” you shrugged as the girls looked at you with sympathy.

“okay, we’re back!” penelope yelled, causing you three to put on a happy mask. “let’s get this party started!” she added as the rest of you cheered and danced the night away.

despite the random times your heart would hurt after seeing spencer and maeve showing affection, you were genuinely happy for him.

“hey y/n,” spencer called out to you from his desk, causing you to look up from your files. “why are you still single?” he asked bluntly, causing an eavesdropping derek to spit out his coffee.

“first of all, ouch,” you sarcastically scoffed. “second of all, i just haven’t had time nor found the right guy.”

and that i’m madly in love with you.

you ignore emily and jj raising their eyebrows at you.

“well, i can set you up with someone i know.” spencer grinned.

“spence, you don’t have to do that-”

“yes i do! you’re my best friend and an amazing person and i want to see you happy.” he explained. you were definitely ignoring emily’s and jj’s eyes practically popping out of their heads.

right. best friend.

“besides, we have the weekend off. you can go on a double date with me and maeve at the foreign film festival!” spencer beamed.

“oh, i don’t want to be a bother.”

“you won’t be! and i think you’ll like this guy.” he said with confidence.

me liking a guy who isn’t you? i don’t know about that.

“please y/n.” spencer begged. after a few moments, you sighed.

“fine, i’ll go.” you agreed in surrender.

“great! i’ll text you the details later.”

maybe this blind date will actually go pretty well and i’ll finally get over spencer.

-

you arrived to the park that the festival was being held at, carrying a picnic blanket as you sported a cute midi dress.

“y/n!” a familiar voice called out to you. you turned to see spencer waving to you with one arm as the other was wrapped around maeve’s waist. you noticed another familiar figure standing next to them.

“hey guys!” you smiled as you quickly walked up to them, giving spencer a hug.

“you look amazing!” maeve complimented you, bringing you in for a quick hug as well.

“thank you, you too!” you grinned at her. you turned to the third person, giving him a friendly smile.

“y/n, this is-”

“agent anderson.” you smirked at him, surprised that spencer had set you up with a coworker.

“please, call me grant. you look beautiful.” he smiled at you.

“thanks, you’re not so bad yourself.” you smiled back.

grant wasn’t a horrible guy. you’ve had small talk with the guy before, and you were actually shocked to see that he shared a few similar interests as you. and you weren’t going to lie, he was quite the looker.

“we still have another half hour until the screening starts. let’s walk around and check out the vendors.” spencer announced, grabbing maeve’s hand as they walked away.

that definitely did not hurt. and you are on a date right now, y/n.

“see you later, lovebirds!” she shouted, causing you two to laugh.

“let’s go, shall we?” grant offered his arm to you. you grinned as you wrapped your arm around it.

as you two walked around, you found yourself having a good time while talking to grant. you both talked about where you’re from, what made you want to go into criminal justice, and even teased each other for the snack choices you both bought for the films.

“i’m telling you, sour patch watermelon is better.” you argued as grant laid down the picnic blanket next to spencer and maeve (who were already cuddled up next to each other).

“at least you get different flavors with sour patch kids.” grant raised an eyebrow at you. you huffed as you took your spot next to him, popping another piece of candy in your mouth.

“aw look, they’re already having their first fight, how cute.” spencer teased, earning a popcorn thrown to the head by you.

soon, the first movie projected onto the big screen, the noises dying down as it started. grant wrapped his arm around you (after asking you politely, which you accepted) as you watched the movie with ease, seeing that you knew the language it was playing in.

“hey, y/n?” grant whispered.

“yeah?” you raised your eyebrows as your eyes were glued onto the screen.

“funny thing, actually. see, i don’t know really know what they’re saying,” he gave a nervous chuckle quietly. you looked at him with confusion. “i thought they were going to have subtitles.” he confessed as you tried to suppress a laugh.

“don’t worry, i got you,” you gave him a small smile. “so far, the guy and the girl are from rich families and their parents are making them marry in the next month.” you explained.

“oh,” he nodded. “wait, what’s happening now?” he looked at the screen with interest.

“that guy over there,” you pointed out the weird-looking man. “is trying to make sure the marriage doesn’t happen. he said he’s gonna seduce the girl and marry her and take her money and kill her.”

“not with that mustache.” grant joked, causing you to chuckle.

you kept translating for grant, trying to keep quiet as he kept making funny remarks. you were having a great time with him, until you heard giggles from your left.

you turn your head to see maeve smiling as spencer’s lips were centimeters away from her ear  (assuming that he was translating the movie for her too) as his arm wrapped securely around her shoulders. you couldn’t help but feel you heart breaking again.

“you okay, y/n?” grant whispered closely to you. you slightly jumped, snapping your head towards him.

“yeah, i’m fine.” you faked a smile.

you both continued translating and joking around as you ignored the pain in your chest. after a couple more hours, the film finished with a happy ending, causing you to tear up (and grant to wipe them away with the sleeves of his sweater).

“that was such a good movie.” spencer said as the four of you walked to your cars.

“i know! i started crying!” you said, earning laughs from everyone.

“y/n, you cry at everything though.” spencer teased.

“i do! it’s a talent of mine.” you quipped, raising an eyebrow at him as grant laughed.

“well, this is us,” maeve said as she and spencer stood by her car. “we’ll see you two later!” she bid goodbye as you hugged her and spencer.

“see ya!” you waved goodbye as they got in the car.

“may i walk you to your car?” grant offered.

“sure!” you accepted as you led the way. a comfort silence fell between you two as you walked under the moonlight.

“you’re in love with him, aren’t you?” grant broke the silence. you stopped in your tracks.

“what?” you furrowed your brows.

“spencer. you like him.”

“what? no,” you shook your head as you continued walking. “he’s my best friend.”

“i don’t need to be a profiler to notice the way you look at him,” he shyly put his hands in his pockets. “and i’m guessing you let him set you up on a blind date so you could get over him.”

“i’m sorry grant,” you sighed. “you’re a great guy, really. and i had a lot of fun tonight.” you sulked.

“y/n, it’s totally fine. you can’t control who you love,” he patted you shoulder in comfort. “i think you should tell him how you feel.” he suggested. you looked at him like he was crazy.

“that sounds like a horrible idea, grant,” you laughed. “as you can see, he’s in a happy relationship.” you said as you arrived to your car, leaning on your door.

“i’m serious! you really should.”

“and why would i do that?” you crossed your arms.

“first, spencer looks at you the way you look at him. second, you should hear the way he talks about you.” grant explained.

“no way. he’s just being a good friend and he’s known me for a long time.”

“when he was talking to me about setting us up, he talked about you as if you had put all of the stars in the sky – he was blushing and even stuttering! trust me y/n, i know. tell him before you lose him for good.” he rambled. you sighed, not wanting to get your hopes up.

“i don’t believe you for one bit,” you both laughed. “and besides, i don’t want to ruin spencer’s happiness.”

“you both deserve to be happy,” he smiled at you. you lazily smiled back at him. “listen, i gotta go. thank you for tonight, y/n, it was nice getting to know you more. even though this date didn’t go as planned, it was nice to make a new friend.”

“thank you grant.” you pulled him in for a warm and comforting hug.

-

you scrolled through netflix as you tried to decide on a series to binge-watch with spencer.

spencer: hey y/n, can i come over and hang out with you?

y/n: sure, why?

spencer: maeve’s caught up with work.

y/n: oh, is she okay with that?

spencer: yeah! she knows we’re just friends.

yeah. just friends.

spencer: wanna watch something? i’ll let you pick.

y/n: sure!

spencer: great! i’ll see you in a bit. :)

yay. great.

you finished putting down bowls of your favorite snacks on the coffee table when you heard a knock. you rushed over to open your door to see your best friend smiling at you.

“hey, come in! i hope you like watching new girl again.” you opened your door wider, letting spencer walk in, he immediately jumped onto your couch. you laughed as you sat next to him, pressing the play button on your remote.

“so, how was the date? what do you think of grant?” spencer asked as the show played in the background.

“it was fun! he’s a cool guy.” you answered.

“that’s great! did you guys kiss? when’s the wedding?” he joked.

“hold your horses, bud,” you rolled your eyes at him. “we did not kiss and there will be no wedding. we actually decided to be just friends.”

“what?!” spencer’s eyes widened. “why?! you two looked so good together.” he pouted.

“i know you worked hard to get us together, and i appreciate you for doing that, but it’s for the best. now can we get back to new girl?” you asked. spencer nodded as you two glued your eyes to the tv.

after a season had finished, spencer looked to you, only to see you knocked out. he shook his head in amusement as he stood up and walked to your room to find you a blanket. before he could grab your blanket, your desk caught his eyes.

“what a mess,” spencer muttered to himself as he tried to organize the files that sat on top of a pile of paper. he moved a few folders and started to organize the papers until he started reading them. “what are these?”

dear spencer,

you are the sweetest person i know. you always bring me my coffee order (i would ask you how you remember my order, but then i realized you have eidetic memory) along with my favorite muffin. even when i have already gotten my order, you still show up with two coffee cups and a paper bag and give me my half. 

to be honest, i feel bad that you’re always spending on me, even if it’s just coffee and muffins and you always tell me that it’s nothing. but i appreciate that you’re always thinking of me – and that’s one of the many reasons why i have fallen for you.

love, y/n

“fallen for me?”

dear spencer,

i wonder how many facts go through your head at a time. i also wonder what kind of books you’ve read to have come across those facts. and with the amount of facts that your brain has obtained, i wonder how fast it takes for your brain to bring up a fact that relates to whatever we’re talking about.

despite the random times you started rambling about a topic and someone from the team stops you, i started to find them fascinating. they’ve interested me enough to the point where i started to do some research on my own whenever you brought up a random fact. your fact dumps are cute – you’re cute.

love, y/n

“y/n thinks i’m cute?”

dear spencer,

oh boy, the things you do to me. i know you’re my best friend, but there are times where it just feels like we could be so much more. remember when we were hanging out at my place and we were watching star wars for the hundredth time? we were having a great time, until you wrapped your arms around me and started cuddling me while we finished the rest of the movies.

i got scared, but i didn’t stop you. i let you hold me in your arms and even wrapped my arms around your torso and leaned on you, hoping that you didn’t notice my heart beating louder and faster than usual. i shouldn’t be feeling this way for my best friend, but goddamnit spencer i’m in love with you.

love, y/n.

“she’s in love with me?”

“s-spence?” a voice called out to him. spencer turned his head to see you with a terrified look on your face. “what are you doing with those?”

“i- are these love letters? to me?” he asked. you visibly gulped.

“those were from a long time ago.” you tried to explain as you felt your eyes starting to sting.

“why didn’t you tell me?” spencer sounded like he was about to break. you deeply inhaled before speaking.

“i was scared of ruining our friendship and obviously you don’t see me that way. there was no point in telling you since you’re with maeve now. i meant to throw those away, but i guess i forgot.” you lowered your head. spencer sighed as he tried to take everything in.

“y/n-”

“can you leave?” you asked slowly. “i think we both need some time to be alone right now.”

“but we need to talk this ou-”

“spencer, please.” you looked up at him with tears that were ready to fall. he understood and walked out. as soon as you heard your door close, you fell onto your bed, hugging your legs to your chest, sobbing until you let darkness consume you.

-

after a few days of taking some time off, you were called in for a local case. the moment you sat at your desk, you could feel spencer’s eyes on you. ever since that night, you haven’t returned any of his calls or messages as you tried to recover yourself from getting your heart broken. and now that you’re back, everybody could feel the awkward tension between you two. you tried to ignore it, putting your focus on the case. 

luckily, hotch could tell what was going on and decided to pair you off with emily for the day. the case you were working on wasn’t as severe as the others you have worked on, so as soon as the team delivered the profile, you went out to lunch with grant.

“and then i asked him to leave.” you finished explaining the incident to him.

“i’m sorry that happened.”

“it’s not your fault. my dumb ass forgot to throw away those stupid letters and now spencer and i can’t even look at each other.” you sighed as you continued to eat your lunch.

“don’t say that. it was better that he found out sooner or else your feelings would’ve eaten you up the longer you kept them in.” grant raised his eyebrows at you.

“you’re right. i just miss him. i miss seeing him and talking to him and i messed it all up. god, even after a few days off, i’m still not over him.” you lazily poked your food.

“the wound is still fresh. no one expects you to be alright right away. but it does help if you talk to him.” he suggested.

“what is there to talk about? spencer doesn’t like me and he’s happy with maeve – end of story.”

“yeah about that,” grant nervously chuckled. “spencer broke up with her.”

“what?” your eyes widened. “why? they were so good together. i didn’t want him to break up with her because of me. now i feel bad.” you frowned.

“he didn’t tell me exactly why they broke up, but i’m guessing it has to do with how he feels about you.” he shrugged.

“about me? yeah, sure.” you roll your eyes in amusement.

“you’ll never know unless you talk to him.”

“how do you always know what to say?” you grinned at your friend.

“it’s part of the charm.” he said, earning a laugh from you.

you soon returned to work to wrap up the case. hours later, it ended with a quick arrest with no one else getting hurt. you relaxed into your desk chair as you started on paperwork.

hours later, you found yourself being one of the only people left in the office (along with spencer sitting at his desk and hotch in his office).

“are you sure you don’t want to come get drinks with us? paperwork can wait until tomorrow.” emily offered as she, jj, derek, and penelope were ready to hit the town.

“as much as i would love to, i think i’m just gonna stay in tonight after i’m done. thank you though, and have fun for me!” you smiled at them, giving them quick hugs before returning back to work.

after a couple more hours, you finished the last of your paperwork, bringing your pile up to hotch’s office.

“here’s that paperwork i’ve finished. i also finished morgan’s pile,” you said, placing the files on his desk. “is there anymore that you want me to do?”

“no, you’ve done a lot today. get some rest.”

“okay, thank you.” you smiled at him.

“thank you again, y/n, have a good night.” he said, not even making eye contact.

“thanks, you too.”

“oh, and y/n?” hotch quickly said, lifting his head up. “talk to reid.” he simply said. you softly exhale.

“yes sir.” you nodded, giving your boss a small smile.

you quickly returned to your desk, looking up to see that spencer had already left. you slump your shoulders in defeat.

maybe i’ll talk to him tomorrow.

you opened your drawer to grab a few items and placed them in your bag. you checked the drawer again to make sure you didn’t miss anything, until you noticed some things that weren’t there before.

envelopes? what are those doing there?

you picked them up to see your name and a number written in an eerily familiar handwriting on one side. you carefully opened the envelope that said ‘y/n (1).’

dear y/n,

you’ve always intrigued me. not gonna lie, when i first met you, i was intimidated by you. you carried yourself with such confidence and ambition, i instantly thought that we were opposites – that you would be annoyed by me. but then i got to know you. you greeted me with a big smile, and i honestly felt my knees wobbling.

you are the sweetest girl. you’re so understanding and you always make everyone’s happiness your number one priority (although i do think it’s not a bad thing to be selfish sometimes). you’ve done so much for everyone, especially the team, both inside and outside of work.

when i found out you had a secret love for superheroes and science fiction, we became closer. i told you everything and whenever i felt down, you were the first person i went to, and you did the same to me. i am so grateful to have you by my side. i know you aren’t one to open up a lot, but i’m happy to be that one person you let break down your walls sometimes.

love, spencer

you started choking on air as your heart started picking up the pace. you picked up the second letter, opening it a little faster than the first one. you took a deep breath before you started reading the longer letter.

dear y/n,

for someone who has eidetic memory, i can’t pinpoint the exact moment where i realized i was starting to have feelings for you. there are so many moments where i see you as more than just my best friend, it’s honestly the little things you do that just gives me butterflies in my stomach.

like your first christmas with the team when you gave me several pairs of star trek socks. you told me you felt bad for not getting me something more expensive, but i love them. i’ve worn those socks more than any other pair i own. there was another time where you sent my mother a gift basket just because you thought she was feeling down. i didn’t know you sent her one until she called me out of the blue, wanting to thank you for cheering her up – i honestly didn’t even know you two regularly talked to each other. i don’t really talk to anyone about my mom until i met you, and it really means a lot to me seeing you check up on her when i wasn’t able to.

but what made my heart flutter the most is when you came over to jj’s and helped watch henry with me. i can usually take care of that little rascal without trouble, but i guess one night he decided to eat a bunch of candy and run around the house. you basically teleported (which is not scientifically possible, yet) and managed to catch henry and help him settle down. i couldn’t help but admire you with loving eyes as you made henry laugh while you tucked him into bed. you’re really great with kids and would make an amazing mother someday.

this letter was longer than usual and i got a little carried away. i just wanted to tell you that you are a wonderful person who deserves the world.

love, spencer

you felt a tug at your heartstrings as you smiled from ear to ear. you looked at the last envelope, feeling a little bit scared to open it. nonetheless, you ripped the top open, taking in another deep breath before reading.

dear y/n,

i really am an idiot, aren’t i? ever since the night i found your letters, i felt like the biggest jerk in the world. i broke your heart many times without even noticing, and seeing you cry that night made me feel like absolute shit. i hate that i’m reason you’re hurting and i would give everything up just to make you happy again.

after thinking things through, i broke up with maeve that same night. i love her and she will always have a place in my heart, but she isn’t you. and before you start to think that it’s your fault, it’s definitely not. i made the decision to end things with her, and don’t worry, she’s okay and she actually understands. i’m 100% sure of my decision.

i’ve never met anyone like you. you’ve been in my thoughts and dreams for the longest time. when i fell for you, i fell hard. i didn’t even think you would see me as more than just a best friend, and i am such an idiot for thinking that i can replace you. you deserve true love and happiness and i hope you find that someone that gives you their all – even if it isn’t me.

love, spencer.

you wiped the tears off your face as you read the last sentence.

“holy shit.” you managed to breathe out. 

you quickly got up and grabbed your bag and car keys and sprinted to the elevator. you bounced your leg as you anxiously waited for the elevator to reach the parking garage.

run to your car. speed to spencer’s apartment without getting pulled over. slam on his door until he answers it – i’ll kick it down if i have to.

as soon as the doors open, you started running to your car. as you got closer, you spotted a tall figure leaning on your car, stopping in your tracks and almost dropping your keys.

“spencer?” you said, causing him to jump up a little.

“hey y/n.” he scrambled, trying to get himself together.

“you waited for me?” you stated the obvious. spencer nodded, giving you a nervous smile.

“seeing that you were still up there for a while, i’m guessing you read the letters.” he lightly scratched the back of his neck.

“oh, i had one more case to file,” you started to joke. “what letters?” you raised an eyebrow. spencer’s eyes widened.

“well, this is awkward. i guess i’ll get going-” he started to walk away.

“i’m just kidding!” you exclaimed, gently grabbing his wrist. “i did read them.” you said quietly.

“oh.” spencer cooed.

“look, i didn’t mean to put you in that situation. i really was happy for you two and i know you said it’s not my fault you broke up with her, but i can’t help but feel guilty. i’m sorry.” you felt tears building up again.

“please, don’t be,” spencer grabbed your hands. “yes i liked maeve. she’s a great person and all, but what i felt for her was nothing compared to what i feel for you.” he confessed. you felt your heart racing.

“really?”

“yes,” he chuckled. “and if you don’t feel the same anymore, i’m totally fine just being your best friend. i’d rather have you in my life as a friend than as nothing at all. and i know you deserve someone who makes you happy and won’t break your heart and-”

before spencer could finish, you placed your hands behind his neck and pulled him in for a sweet, yet passionate kiss. you felt him smile as he held your face in his hands, deepening the kiss. soon, you both pull back to catch your breaths, and you found yourself looking at him as if he held the entire universe in his eyes. you gently placed a hand on his cheek.

“i want you.” you lazily smiled at him.

“can i ask you something?” spencer raised his eyebrows.

“anything.”

“did you throw away those letters?” he asked. you thought about his question, realizing that you never really did touch those letters ever since he found them.

“actually, i didn’t. why?” you looked at him with confusion. spencer suddenly started smiling mischievously. he snatched your car keys out of your hand and ran to the driver’s side.

“we’re going back to your place and i’m reading every single letter you wrote me!” he laughed.

“spencer, no!”

[primasveraas-writing]

And In Darkness, I Stand- Chapter 2

Kallus' leg is never quite the same after Bahryn. But then again, neither is he.

1 2 3 4 5

2. The Relentless / The Chimera

The weakness does fade.

The next day is better, if only for the bacta and the pain meds. No one asks him about his unfortunate detour- not that his inferiors would dare, nor would his superiors deign themselves to care- so he writes his report on the incident, omitting all details regarding Garazeb Orrelios, and files the matter away.

Kallus doesn’t limp. There’s no need for that anymore, not when he can stifle or otherwise ignore the discomfort. He’s sitting most of the day anyway, his hours spent planning a new angle of attack to capture the Ghost crew. He skips lunch to avoid the trek down to the mess hall and more pain with it. If this is the cost he pays for a show of strength, then so be it.

It’s been a very long time since he’s felt so weak, he thinks, vaguely dazed, as the day creeps into the afternoon. He’s lightheaded and probably dehydrated at that.

Kallus sighs, tossing the datapad back on his desk. He’s behind on his work. Between the Lothal rebels and the other insurgent cells that keep cropping up, he’s been stretched thin.

That’s unfamiliar, too. He’s not used to losing.

But here he is. For the first time in years, he’s sitting at his desk, weak, injured, struggling to keep up with a group of pesky rebels that should have been eliminated years ago.

And that’s the icing on the stupid cake: it’s been a small eternity since he’s bent the rules. Kallus lied on a report- he lied about saving a rebel.

He groans, burying his face in his hands. Two rotations ago, if Kallus had discovered one of his subordinates doing the same, he would have recommended them tried and executed for treason.

He’s earned that much, in all likelihood. It would make things simpler. The action and the consequence swiftly following, rather than skirting around reality in a desperate attempt to save his own skin.

That’s not what occurred yesterday. Yesterday, he saved Zeb when he didn’t have to. Yesterday, Zeb did the same for him- literally carried him out of harm’s way- and offered to spare Kallus once more after that.

If he had taken him up on the deal, Kallus would probably be more comfortable, he realizes with a snort. The rebels have next to nothing, and they’d still take care of his wound.

Yet here he is- a top agent of the Empire, with resources worth trillions of credits at his disposal- and he’s sitting alone in his office with a growling stomach and a broken leg.

The line of thought is dangerous and foolish. It’s the kind of thinking that could get him killed. In fact- he has killed over messaging like that. The first indication of rebellion is questioning the might of the Empire, so they cull the curious and loud. Nip it in the bud, so to say, before the spark can catch flame.

Damn. Kallus has half a mind to turn himself in. But in the past 48 hours, he doesn’t know who he’s more culpable to- the rebels or the Empire.

It is, above all else, highly doubtful that any of these wonderings are markers of a good ISB agent. It’s stupid, for one. He should have killed Zeb the moment he made it to safety on Bahryn. Failing that, he should have turned himself in and begged for forgiveness, kissed Konstantine’s boots and sworn allegiance to the Emperor over and over.

It’s unlikely that sniveling would have worked, even if it is one of Kallus’ finely developed skills. No, it was over the moment he decided not to shoot Zeb.

So he has a choice- turn himself in and be jailed or exiled, at best, or move past what happened and reprove his faithfulness to the Empire. Own up to his actions or reach his full potential under the Empire, save for one little hiccup.

The latter seems the obvious choice. But Kallus still remembers the chill of the ice moon, the agony of waiting for the Empire to rescue him, his sole relief the Lasat next to him-

No.

Today, he serves the Empire. Kallus is sure he will not be caught in fudging the report. He’s one of the best, after all, and there’s no evidence to damn him unless he or Garazeb Orrelios decide to confess the acts of their mercy to the Empire.

It’s odd, then. Kallus is ISB, an Imperial agent. He deals in secrets and lies, so he should be accustomed to circumstances such as these.

But never before has he kept a secret with a rebel. He and Zeb are the only two people in the galaxy who know what really happened.

Zeb is the only person in the galaxy who has witnessed Kallus’ mercy.

And thus that is another thing he shares with Garazeb Orrelios. These secrets, a day together in the snow, memories of a burning planet, and a life debt formed around a tenderly bandaged leg.

It feels too significant to dismiss as an anomaly.

-

Kallus’ fist collides with the training dummy once more, a satisfying whack! splitting through the air.

His muscles ache, from his bad leg to his abdomen and back. One fall and he’s disrupted his whole body.

His spine, in particular, throbs. The limping, as infrequent as it now is, has shifted his weight and alignment. It hurts, yet he trains and pushes, a relentless wave crashing against an unyielding seawall.

Kallus knows what his body is capable of. He knows his limits, and he knows how to expand them. He knows what he should be able to achieve.

He throws his whole body into the next punch, and loses his balance. He pivots forward, twisting on his injured leg, and pain shoots through him, spiking white-hot through his every nerve. In a desperate attempt to save himself, he sticks his hands out in front of him, but his momentum is too great, and he crashes to the floor anyways, the world spinning, he nauseous and bruised.

The training mat smells of sweat and rubber. It’s disgusting, yet Kallus is so disoriented that the stench is the first thing that makes sense, that grounds him through the vertigo and agony.

Childishly, foolishly, he wants to cry. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, burning, and Kallus raises himself up slowly, shifting so his leg is kept off the ground. He ends up on the floor before the dummy, half stuck, half afraid of the hurt that will follow when he stands.

Even he will accept that he cannot train any more today. So Kallus picks himself off the floor, painstakingly and gingerly, then unwraps his knuckles and wipes the sweat from his brow. He closes his uniform over his undershirt, and retreats to his room to lick his wound.

He’s still weak. Bahryn fractured him, and it’s doubtful that he’ll ever be at full capacity again. His strongest days are past him and he never even realized this fact to enjoy them while they lasted.

This misery is nearly enough to occupy him as he showers and changes. His weakness is troubling, unfortunate, damning. His career could be in jeopardy, should the injury get any worse, and he cannot think of a day that the leg hasn’t bothered him in all the time that has passed since Bahryn.

But it does not suffice. The pain, the threat to his livelihood, the sudden onset of his physical decline- it is not enough to distract him from the thought that whisked him away to training in the first place.

Tell Garazeb Orrelios we’re even.

So the debt is paid. Is that it? Is it over? Has he recompensed to the rebels, at least for that one day? He owes Garazeb nothing, not anymore. He owes the Empire his own life for his treason, for breaking the promises that founded all purpose in his life.

If he thinks about it, he still owes the rebels. He’s saved one of them, once, and one of them spared him, once. But what does he owe to them for all the years spent chasing them across the galaxy, for the torture and death he’s inflicted upon them?

It’s his life’s work, to have done so.

They don’t deserve it.

The realization sends a jolt of shock through him. Kallus sits up in bed, clutching at the sheets with a frantic grasp. He feels short of breath because-

It’s never been about deserve. It’s never been about compassion or mercy, or secrets, or care. The Empire is founded on and fueled by control, by order, by power.

Bahryn stripped him of all of these things. He was helpless, lost, totally dependent on Zeb to survive. Each breath of air on that accursed moon was attributed to another, and Zeb granted them all to Kallus without a second thought.

What is the reward for doing the same?

What does he owe for this debt that can never truly be repaid? Because he has deprived the rebels of so much, for so long. Even he, who has finessed the system and risen to the top, now suffers, alone and miserable.

Few others have had the luxury of mercy and kindness under the rule of the Empire. There are not enough insurgents to compensate for all that the Empire has done.

He could change this fact.

-

The discomfort and weakness become normal in due time. It is no longer a conscious effort to hide what remains of the limp, nor does he rely on a generous dose of medication to get through the day.

Kallus has healed. He has changed, too.

What started on Bahryn and continued with Sabine Wren has blossomed into something larger entirely. Kallus is no longer a mere Imperial officer. He is Fulcrum. He is caught between both sides of the war and has taken a page out of Garazeb Orrelios’ book- he has chosen mercy, to save rebel lives because they do not deserve to suffer under Imperial rule and at his own hand, not anymore.

He is still responsible for a great many deaths, now rebel and Imperial alike. If the whole galaxy were to know his sins, there would likely be very few beings who would agree that Kallus doesn’t deserve harsh consequences for his actions.

But he does sleep better at night now. Kallus plans to repent every day for the rest of his life, however short or long that might be.

He doesn’t know why he does it. To help a desperate rebellion and hinder a cruel Empire, yes, but beyond these satisfactions, he stands nothing to gain.

That is perhaps the starkest difference between the two groups. In the Empire, he works only for himself, a cog competing against other worthless mechanisms so that he may benefit, so that his superiors may benefit, so that the ringleaders of the whole operation may finally see an entire galaxy within their grasp. The rebellion consists of a ragtag group of misfits, fighting for what remains of their families and freedoms.

Kallus is doing it for them. To dedicate his life to those he has hurt before may grant him some peace. He’s a fraction of a step closer to being able to live with himself, at any rate.

Today, he is up at the crack of dawn, a habit he shares with the commander of his most recent station- Thrawn. Except, while the Chiss rises early to develop strategy or train, Kallus is gathering intel to send to rebel sources.

He’s sitting on the floor of his small room, back aching from hunching over the datapad and encryptor, his legs stretched before him, mostly bare, as he hasn’t bothered to shave or dress yet. The ground is cold, yet it keeps the edging tiredness at bay, a sharpness that eliminates the heaviness pulling his eyes closed.

Kallus shifts again, then freezes.

His right leg is straightened before him- he knows this because the muscles are strained, stretched too far, yet the leg is bent slightly to the side. There’s a patch of skin just below his knee that is discolored and rippled, a bump indicating where the bone below was broken.

That’s wrong. He hasn’t noticed the abnormality ever before, but there’s only one reasonable explanation for it.

He’s unhealed, after all.

It is no matter. He’s already in an incredibly vulnerable position, and he has nothing else to lose. If the faulty leg serves him until he is caught or dead, then there is no need to concern himself with the issue.

-

Most days, he does not wake up in pain.

Instead, any discomfort builds over the course of the day. Kallus wakes and goes about his morning with no hindrance. At midday, he might notice a twinge if he stretches and moves about, but he is not truly bothered until late in the evening, when he has trained or ran or spent more than an hour standing. It is something he can survive, provided it does not get worse.

Today, Kallus wakes up in pain.

He’s awoken before his alarm goes off, which is not atypical, but Kallus realizes almost instantly that his sleep was disturbed because of his leg, which feels like lead, burning where it attaches to his hip. He gasps aloud in the security of his quarters, waiting for the agony to cease.

It does not, ten, then twenty minutes later. He throws his pillow at the chrono beeping at him incessantly to get up, then swears under his breath and hops on one leg across the room, slamming the button on the chrono to make it stop, then stumbling into the refresher to gulp down whatever medications he has saved.

They will not act fast enough, nor are they powerful enough to truly solve the problem. But Kallus dresses, every muscle in his body tense, and he gets to work.

The Empire still lies in wait, led by Thrawn as he develops the appropriate strategy to eliminate the rebels. Kallus is grateful for the moderate respite from action, though it comes at the cost of working closely with the Admiral day in and day out. Thrawn is unnerving, not just to his enemies, but to all in his proximity. Kallus will be uncomfortable in all meanings of the word today.

And as expected, when Thrawn arrives to Kallus’ office, the pain has only doubled. Sitting does not alleviate it, and standing makes it worse. Focusing is a herculean task, and behaving normally is no more easily accomplished.

Thrawn’s presence demands these things in perfect condition. Kallus stands to greet the Admiral, offering a small nod in greeting, then Thrawn opens a map of Lothal in the middle of the room, gesturing to the places of interest. He knows the planet well, his experience aiding Thrawn’s careful study. The discussion is frank and swift, and it should be easy to follow.

Kallus’ leg is on fire. It is the worst pain he’s ever been in, rivaling the initial break and spreading through his body, which is rigid and tense and out of his control. He concentrates on standing still, on not letting his mask of neutrality slip, and it’s then he realizes Thrawn is looking at him.

“Agent Kallus.” He hates the red eyes watching him so closely, he hates them. “Are you quite well?”

“Of course, Admiral.” Kallus is a good liar, above all else. He wants to scream out loud, collapse to the floor sobbing and pounding his fists.

“Ah.” Thrawn appraises him a moment longer, then turns back to the detailed chart, his smooth voice returning to its drone about Lothal’s power supplies. Kallus’ vision is blurry at the edges, and he cannot read the inscriptions on the holo three feet away from him. The colors seem wrong and the buildings are colliding, and Thrawn’s words slip away into nothing, nothing, until they form an ungraceful, wavering song. White creeps into his sight, threatening to overtake the black of his office, and he thinks he is going to die like this, standing on a leg that should have healed months ago.

He becomes aware that Thrawn has stopped talking.

Kallus must reply- the fog clouding his brain is too thick, he doesn’t understand what’s been asked of him, and he is hopelessly lost with no way to return.

He bites down on his tongue, hard. The new pain is sharp, thick and stinging. His brain reels at the sensation, but he doesn’t gasp, blinking once to clear his eyes of tears, and with the motion, his vision returns. Thrawn his standing with his back to Kallus, hands clasped neatly behind him. The pause is too comfortable for any question to have been posed, and Thrawn has been particularly punctual today, so perhaps he has not bothered with a loaded question that the Admiral already knows the answer to. Kallus decides to weigh his bets by maintaining the silence as he tries to remember the last of Thrawn’s words that he was able to understand.

There is still a rushing in his ears, the white noise overpowering all else; Kallus bites down harder, and the galaxy bursts with sound once more.

“....but I am confident that this strategy will succeed, once the laborers are under control. Do you agree, Agent Kallus?”

“Yes.” He’s too strangled; he clears his throat and straightens, a fresh spike of agony emanating from his leg as it bears more of his weight. “Handling the working class is the first step towards uniting the people under Imperial rule.”

“Good.” The Admiral must really be as close as he can get to approval, because he does not turn around to stare at Kallus again. “I expect we will be discussing this matter further at a later date.”

“Yes, sir.”

Thrawn bows his head in acknowledgment, and Kallus does the same. The urge to yell returns again as Thrawn exits the room, his pace terribly slow and measured. Kallus is sure he is shaking; his clenched fists are no longer enough to disguise this fact, but the door hisses open, then closed again, and Kallus is alone-

His muscles give out all at once, and he collapses to the floor in a heap, limbs convulsing and his entire body trembling. Kallus’ breath is ragged and uneven, and he only realizes he is crying when he feels the wet heat on his face.

His leg is a horrible mix of utter numbness and stabbing pain. Kallus attempts to right himself, but every small movement only brings more agony. The world is lost to him, but he inhales. Exhales. Breathes.

Taste is the first thing to return to him. In his mouth, thick and warm, he recognizes the copper of blood, gushing from the hole torn in his tongue.

[bush-viper-cutie]

Working Together - DAY 3

Pairing: young!severus x reader

Word Count: 3,055

Rating: E for Everyone

Plot:  Severus and you are assigned to work together for Herbology. Things keep happening and unless you want to fail first term, you must take action.

Warnings: none

A/N: Day three! My own challenging prompt for October again! HAPPY SPOOKTOBER! :D (late upload but it IS complete! but not spooky D:)

Posted: 10/3/20

Masterlist

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

“…and Snape and (L/n), please grab a planter box.” Professor Sprout rolled up her scroll and threw it behind her on a pile of parchments and papers in a large pot. “Alright class, two hours, that should be plenty of time to get set up.”

You looked around for Severus, spotting him in the back of the green house by the planter boxes. He was already grabbing the materials before even meeting up first. You rolled your eyes and made your way to his usual spot, sitting down next to his book. He was one of the only ones with a textbook out and he was always scribbling in it despite not really needing to. Sprout never quizzed the class on all the extra stuff she said.

Severus turned, arms carrying the planter full of soil, seeds, and growth potions, and spotted you already waiting for him. He averted his eyes as he walked up to you and set all the stuff down on the table.

You hadn’t ever talked to him, but you knew well enough how he got. He only ever talked to his friends and anyone else could be noisy wind for all he cared. You pressed your lips together and began tearing the dirt apart in the planter so that it was soft and perfect for the roots that would eventually be pushing through it.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Severus grumbled.

You stepped aside and put your dirty hands to your hips. “Then why don’t you – ”

He immediately fixed the soil, breaking it apart further and then patted it down. “The top needs to be hard or else the roots will push through. They don’t feel which way is down. They grow into the easiest path.” He wiped his hands on his trousers and started mixing the potions into little containers.

“Oh.” You took the little seeds out of their pouches and pushed them through the dirt, patting it back down like Severus had done. “Can I do one?”

Severus stopped pouring into the last small container and sat back down on the stool, handing you the two bottles of PlantGrowth. You took them and poured in the clear one first and then looked at the other greener one.

“How much of this do I put in?”

He furrowed his brows. “If you don’t know how to then why ask to do it?”

You brushed off his comment with a laugh. You did feel like a fool, but you couldn’t help wanting to be involved. “Just tell me, will you?”

He stood again, almost bumping shoulders with you – he stepped to the side quickly just before – and touched the container with his dirty nail, holding it still as you poured. You both sat as the mixtures turned from light green to dark.

“Do you like herbology?” You turned to him.

He was picking dirt out if his nails and stopped. “Like it?”

You didn’t think the question would be so complicated for him. “Yes. Is it one of your favorites? It seems like it is.”

“No. It’s just a class.”

“But you put a lot of work into it. Into knowing and remembering everything.”

He shrugged, finally meeting your eyes. “What do you care anyways?”

You scoffed. The rest of the class went by slow as you waited for the potions to be ready. The second they turned a deep enough green Severus poured them over the dirt and labeled the box with his name and handed you the marker. You put down your own and grabbed the planter, setting it with the others. Class was over and by next week the plants should be in full bloom.

~ * ~ * ~

You knocked on Professor Sprout’s door nervously. You’d never been called to her office before and wondered what had happened. The door opened and you stepped in, ducking under some long leaves from one of her floating pots. Severus was in a chair next to the one she was motioning for you to take.

“I’ve called you in here because of your planter box.” She shook her head and sighed dramatically. “Well I’m not sure how to let you two down easy so I’ll just say it. Your leaves grew – in fact I believe they were the first to mature so good job – but they were destroyed. Completely ruined.”

“What?” Both you and Severus exclaimed and looked at each other.

“Wh-what happened to them?” You thought about your only involvement in the project and wondered if somehow you messed up the potion. It was a two-step mixture but you had been known for messing up much easier and far simpler things.

Professor Sprout shook her head. “I thought it was some sort of pest but none of the other leaves are harmed in any way. Something went through and completely bit only your leaves.”

You looked at Severus, trying not to look like you blamed him. You did know he had a bad habit of getting into fights with some of the other students. His eyes flicked to you and his face went red.

“I’ll be looking into it but I’ll ask you both to go down right now and redo it so that by next class they are at least grown enough to re-pot, alright?”

You nodded and stood, heading straight for the door. You marched out into the corridor and waited, hands on your hips, for Severus to come out. The second he closed the door to Sprout’s office you rounded on him finger pointed.

“You know who did this to our plants don’t you?”

He glared and headed towards the green houses.

You followed close behind. “Maybe if you stopped hexing them back they wouldn’t constantly be messing with you trying to ‘get back’ at you. Just let them have the last laugh! I don’t want our planter getting ruined again before next lesson!”

He turned sharply, trying to keep a faster pace but you jogged, staying close. You saw him glance at you several times but he didn’t respond, making you madder than you needed to be. You crossed your arms and breathed out, trying very hard not to blame him.

You got to the green house and stopped at your planter. It was completely ruined. The dirt was carved into, the leaves were brown and brittle, and the roots were torn completely from their seed bodies. This looked like the pathetic work of that group of boys who thought it’d be funny to cover the whole third floor in suds.

Severus took down the planter and dumped out the soil. You got the two bottles of different PlantGrowth and set the little glass containers down in order while Severus prepared the new soil and seeds. Within hours the planter was ready to put up again.

“It looks kind of sad next to all those better looking leaves. Ours is so empty. Maybe we should rough the others up a bit.” You turned to Severus and wiggled your brows, trying to lighten the mood.

He looked at you and rolled his eyes, but you could have sworn you saw a little twitch of his mouth. He left the green house leaving you standing there feeling weird. It was an odd feeling being able to make the grumpiest boy in school have to hold in a smile.

~ * ~ * ~

“WHAT?” You and Severus stared at your planter box.

“Ruined. Again.” Severus spoke through clenched teeth.

Professor Sprout was looking around through the soil, trying to spot anything that would indicate what ate all the leaves again. “Look. I’ve looked into several people – ”

“It was Potter and Black and Lupin! It’s them that did this!” You picked up a dried leaf and crushed it.

Severus stared at you but didn’t join in the accusations.

Professor Sprout held out both hands. “Now, now! Let me just say that Potter and his friends were with me all day, helping me clean up green-house one and two when this happened. I had JUST checked on your box and can say with certainty it wasn’t them.”

Your jaw fell open. Severus was smirking at you.

“Well you need these plants for tomorrow so why don’t you start over and just use my Super Growth from green-house four. It’ll be ready by tomorrow.” Professor Sprout clapped her hands and dirt fell off onto the ground. “It’s almost after hours so please finish up fast. I’ll be back to check on things after you’re both gone.”

You watched Sprout leave the green house and turned to Severus. “Why were you smirking?”

He pulled his mouth into a frown and left to get the Super Growth, leaving you alone to your thoughts. You had a feeling that come tomorrow morning the plants would be ruined again. This was your final grade for the end of first term and far too important to leave it to chance.

“We should stay here all night,” you said the second Severus walked back in.

“What? We’d get caught… or get detention.” He shook his head.

“And what happens when James and Sirius also ruin this one? I know you think it’s them too.” You stared at him until he was forced to react with a shrug.

After a while of working on the planter box Severus sighed. “Fine. I’ll stay as well… But tell me exactly how you think it’ll go. Because if you think you’ll be able to somehow stop them – ”

“Why is it suddenly just me? You just said you were staying too, didn’t you?”

He grumbled. “Fine. Then what? Do you think we’ll just ask nicely?”

You shook your head. “No, we’ll make another one, and switch it out.” You ignored his confusion and walked over to the extra wooden boxes and packed one full of dirt. “We’ll place this one on the shelf and switch it out when they leave. Give me the Super Growth.”

You popped several random seeds from a jar into the dirt and poured a small amount of Super Growth inside. “Let them destroy this one.” Within minutes, little leaves were growing out of both boxes. Severus put up the correct box on the shelf while you held onto the decoy. “Hide under here.” You pointed under the farthest table and shimmied under it, hugging the decoy box tight.

Severus hesitated before crawling in after you. “This is a bad idea. But I somehow doubt it’s your worst.”

You let your jaw drop and gasped. “Don’t pretend you know me… even if that was a lucky guess.”

“It wasn’t lucky, it was educated.” He raised his brow at you.

You squinted at him and leaned back against the table leg. He tried to do the same but his long legs barely fit. “Just throw them over mine.” You extended your legs out and motioned for him to place them over yours so he could have more room.

He looked at you cautiously and then did so, letting his feet poke out and leaned against the table leg with his arms crossed. He sat still for the next hour, watching you as you squirmed in your spot, hating having to sit still.

After an hour under the table had passed, and light no longer entered the green house, Professor Sprout looked in and checked the planter before locking the green house up with a simple spell.

“That’d never keep anyone out,” Severus commented when she left.

“Shhh. We’re still hiding from people!”

“Sorry.”

You giggled and blushed, pressing your hand to your lips. It was dark and impossible to see your face and you were glad for it. Hearing Severus apologize for rude or sarcastic comments was a rare event. Maybe you had gotten the wrong impression of him. He seemed a lot politer than the other boys he fought with – less kind – but still polite.

“Severus,” you whispered.

He didn’t respond at first. Then, “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I blamed you for what happened with our plants. It wasn’t your fault. And those guys deserve what you give ‘em.” You scraped the wood box with your nail, waiting for him to respond. “It’s not your fault,” you repeated. He didn’t answer, but he kept his legs on yours and didn’t pull away.

After several more minutes he broke the silence. “You should change planters now.”

You nodded and crawled out from under the table. You switched them and crawled back, sliding your legs back under his and setting the leafy box to the side. Perfectly secure.

~ * ~ * ~

It must have been an hour in silence when you heard the voices. You smacked Severus’ leg in excitement, trying to get his attention.

“I heard them already!”

“Sorry.” You smiled.

They opened the door and someone whispered “Set it in and don’t forget the boundary!” Someone ran from the door to the boxes, whispered something, and ran back to the door. Then the same boy from before whispered “We’ll get it in an hour. Let’s go.” Then the door closed again and you and Severus were left alone in the shadows once more.

You stood up and looked towards the box of random leafs. The moonlight was hitting the boxes perfectly and there was a little creature sitting and chomping down your plants like a king at a feast. You walked closer, Severus approaching behind you as you put your hands to your hips.

“A knarl.” You looked at the tiny hedgehog-like creature and sighed.

“I’m surprised they were smart enough to give him a boundary.”

You laughed and turned to Severus. “What do we do now?”

The moon hit his face and you saw a grin appear. “We could undo the boundary.”

You laughed and pushed his shoulder. “And I’M the one with bad ideas? We can’t destroy everyone else’ plants.”

He was watching you with a gentle smile. His eyes traced your face and he finally nodded, looking much less mischievous. “What if we undo the boundary and put him on the ground. It can’t come up to eat anyone’s leaves but… it’ll scare those idiots when they can’t find it.”

You nodded with excitement and took out your wand, undoing the boundary. The knarl had just finished digging around when it saw the other leaves and lunged for them.

“Oh! No!” You pushed it away and Severus placed it on the ground. You watched the knarl crawl into the shadows and turned to Severus suddenly. “Severus… where’s our planter?”

His eyes widened, searching your hands. “YOU had it!”

“No! I got out first, leaving you the box!”

“Well I didn’t know you were leaving it for me!” he hissed.

Severus and you lunged for the floor, aiming your hands into the shadows for the little creature that would ruin your grades in a matter of minutes. Your body knocked into Severus and he groaned at the elbow jabbed into him.

“Get the box!” you yelled.

He crawled into the darkness towards the end table. “The last one!”

There was panic in his voice that sent a violent shiver down your body. You ran over, yelling “Lumos!” and spotted the knarl with a full plant in its mouth, roots and stems and everything. Without thinking you reached for it, almost fully diving onto Severus in order to capture the creature just out of reach of him.

“Ah! Don’t bite down!” You dropped your wand and held the knarl’s mouth open with your fingers while Severus shimmied around under you to get on his back and pull out his wand to shine a light on the situation.

He pulled the very delicate plant away from the tiny razor sharp teeth. “Got it!” he laughed.

You dropped the knarl, relieved Severus had rescued your last plant and laughed with him. You placed your hands on his chest and sat back, slowly realizing the position you were in. Severus’ wand hand slowly came down and his knuckle touched your knee softly. He watched you from below, unmoving with cheeks flushed.

Blush spread over your cheeks as well and you looked down at the soft touch of his knuckle that had turned into the soft rubs of his finger. He was gentle in the way he brushed the back of his finger over your skin. You smiled and looked back into his eyes, still staring at your face. They shifted back and forth, analyzing your eyes as if he could read your very soul.

You found yourself leaning forward, until your hair fell down like a curtain around your face, slowly encircling his as you kept going. You closed your eyes and within seconds your lips touched his. He was warm and so tender and cautious as he followed your movements.

You pressed in deeper, feeling his nose poke into your cheek and reveled in the warmth seeping into you. The air warmed as his arms wrapped around you. You let your body rest on his while your hands found the ends of his long black hair sprawled on the floor. You scrunched it up and brought it close to his scalp for a fistful to squeeze and pull.

He moaned and your lips finally parted from his as you smiled.

As much as you were enjoying kissing him on the dirt covered floor in the shadows of the third green house in the dead of night, you knew it had to end. “We should put that plant in a small pot and take it with us.” You felt Severus let out a breath on your lips and felt him nod.

You rolled off him and stood, brushing off the dirt and helped brush him off as well, smiling kindly at him as you did. He potted the plant and together you left the green house. Just as you were walking over one of the small hills of the grassy grounds, his pinky reached for yours, and you took his hand.

For a final goodnight kiss you pressed him to a wall and allowed his fingers to tangle in your hair. The kiss was rougher and more self-indulgent. When you finally parted he squeezed your hips and gave you one last quick kiss before leaving, clutching the pot, keeping it safe in his arms.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Masterlist

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Day 3 Prompt: Shadows + knarl (small magical hedgehog almost identical to its Muggle-world counterpart and found across northern Europe and North America; known to savage gardens)

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General Taglist:

@severuslovebot @bionic-otp

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[rewritten-belial]

"Ah, perfect! This will do just fine, won't it?" She stared proudly at her... admittedly shabby bait.

Probably should have used a less dry marker, paper in better condition, put a little more effort into what flyers should look like, be less vague, amongst a lot of other things, but... Well, in her eyes it was perfect, somehow not realizing any of those flaws.

"Now all that's left to do is put this up wherever the little one lives, which should not by any means be hard to track down with such a strong demonic energy, wait, and... Well, I haven't quite thought about what I'll do when they get here, but that's not important." And, just as she stood up, she heard the door open and close.

"Oh, such convenience, my dinner is here as well! Unless you've all made that little idiot soft, but that's not too likely." Thus, she left the backroom of the church, heading over to the entrance. And, indeed, there was Ruv, back laid against the wall, examining the cleaning supplies. He looked up, to spot Sarvente.

"Hey. I got your food. Got the cleaning stuff, too. Can I go and just get the job over with?"

"First of all, dear underling, speak more respectfully towards me. Second, this shall do just fine. Go and get this place into a better condition, why don't you?" As she said this, she lifted up the corpse by the arm, letting her face and arms deform slowly, striking a balance between her demon form and disguised form. Not as strong as going full on demon, but, it got the job done for eating corpses. And, indeed she did, gnawing and ripping apart the body after Ruv had walked by to start sweeping the floors. Certainly couldn't ignore the noises, even if he looked away.

(Jesus christ, I forgot how visceral it sounded. It's alright, just do your best to ignore it, and get this shit over with already so you can go take a fuckin' nap.) The minutes passed, and the nun finished her meal for the night, turning the skeleton into ashes after she was done, as well as going back to her disguised form completely.

"Oh, dear Ruv! You might want to do the dishes here, this meal was particularly messy, and the state of this floor reflects that. Better take care of it now before it becomes more difficult!" She chuckled to herself, going over to recover the flyer she had made earlier as she passed Ruv, who went over to clean the mess she had pretty deliberately left on the floor. His expression was one of disgust the whole time. After retrieving the piece of paper, Sarvente opened the door with it on hand, looking back at Ruv.

"By the way, we'll have guests over tomorrow. I'll tell you more later." And before Ruv could ask anything, she shut the door behind her, spurting wings out of her back. And thus, she was off.

"... I have a very, very bad feelin' about this."

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Under the Knife” - Part 4

“Under the Knife” - Part 4

My Masterlist - Here

Story Masterlist -

Here

My Tag List - Here

Hannibal Lecter x Reader, Will Graham x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 3,100-ish 

Key: Chunks of text in italics are (Y/N)’s thoughts. Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Description of Crime Scene/Murder Victims, Murder, Cursing, Blood

Summary: You are Will Graham’s sister who works with him at the FBI. When you get offered a job promotion, life starts to change. Some changes for the better; Some for the worst.

Tag List: @fruitloopzzz @theeactress @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @sj-thefan​ @fuck-your-bad-vibes-dude​ @ntlmundy

Author’s Note: This is my first Hannibal piece and I am proud of it. There aren’t too many stories for Hannibal, so I figured I would add to the collection.

This does take place in some happy medium where they are all alive and work together. Sort of a happier season 1 era.

This is beta-read by @theeactress​, but please let me know if there is something that we missed or that we should look at again! 

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

~~~~~~~~~~~~

No matter how many times you looked at crime scene photos or had to visualize how the killers from the Evil Minds Research Museum had done their work, you were not fully ready to be completely immersed in an active crime scene. 

You were inside another upper-class house in Lorton, Virginia. Everything seemed normal on the outside, until you got past the familiar yellow tape. You were escorted in by Jack. As you walked through the front door, Jack motioned to the right. 

“Mindy Pencalt’s sister called local police and said that she was worried about Mindy. They have weekly video calls and Mrs. Pencalt didn’t respond for two days, which apparently was very abnormal. Uni’s came in and saw her on the kitchen floor, then called in for backup.” 

You walked over, putting on gloves as you got closer. You brushed some hair away from Mindi’s neck. You saw the blood down her front, but you really got a good look at the slice that spanned across most of her neck. You spoke out loud as you inspected the victim, mostly to get confirmation from Jack that you were right.

“This was a quick kill. Sliced neck, just like half of the other victims. No other obvious wounds or marks other than a gash on her forehead that seems to have happened right around time of death. Which means she didn’t-or couldn’t put up much of a fight.” You stood up as you began to see the scene in your mind as it happened. You walked slightly behind where Mindi was laying on the ground. “Most likely from the killer coming up and shoving her head into this set of cabinets before taking his weapon and cutting into her neck from behind.” 

After you had acted out bashing an invisible victim into the overhead cabinets and then taking an invisible knife and dragging it across the same invisible victim, you stopped and looked again at the sliver in her neck.

“The cut starts a few inches below Mrs. Pencalt’s right ear, drags through and across her sternohyoid muscle and stops an inch or so to the left. Leaving her to bleed out at a decent pace. The length of the cut and where it starts and ends indicates that the killer is left-handed.”  

You were looking at the cut on her neck when another thought popped into your mind. Without breaking your gaze from her neck, you held out your open hand towards Jack. 

“Swab, please.” There was some shuffling behind you and not even 20 seconds later, you felt the small familiar shape of a long cotton swab. You gently use your gloved hand and the swab to open the wound slightly. You made a confirming noise to yourself and spoke out loud as you reached your hand out for a disposal bag from whoever gave you the swab.

“The slit is at more of an upward angle. Which means that he is taller than Mrs. Pencalt, who is... how tall?” You ask over your shoulder, still not looking away from the corpse in front of you. 

You could hear Jack flip through his notepad for a few seconds before responding with “5’7”. You just nodded, trying to visualize the killer in your mind. As of right now, it was just a shaded outline of a man. Now you had some sort of height to work with though, but you still didn’t have any major identifying markers yet.

“I would estimate our killer is somewhere between 5’10” and 6’ tall. Which makes him almost painfully average.” 

You looked around Mindi’s body once more to see if there was anything else that really stuck out to you. Any sort of signature left behind on any surface, a stray hair or thread from a shirt being snagged. But you found nothing. You mimed the movements the killer would have made to really see the picture and try to get more into his head. Physically being at the crime scene did so much more than just looking at pictures and notes.

“After the trash is taken care of, he moves on to find and set up his mise-en-scène.” 

You turn to go through the only hallway visible, finally looking up. You were expecting to just meet an accepting or objecting Crawford, but instead was greeted not only to an accepting Jack, but also a somewhat surprised Hannibal. He knew you were brilliant, but he had never had the chance to see you really work. 

“Oh! I wasn’t aware that Dr. Lecter was going to be joining us.” You were really thrown off your rhythm for a minute. Jack nodded before turning and heading down the hallway to what you were sure was a dismembered doctor.

“When you are done, meet me down here. First door on the right.” 

You were left with Hannibal in a slightly awkward position. Looking around at the floor, you tried your best to gracefully get away from the victim and closer to where Hannibal stood without messing up the crime scene. He offered a guiding hand to help to which you gladly accepted. Once you had your feet planted, you decided to speak up and try to dispel as much of the weirdness you felt as you could.

“I um-- I would have offered to drive us both if I’d have known you were coming. I thought you said that you only consulted on one part of this case.”

“Originally, yes, it was just the one. But Jack asked me to tag along, as back up. He wants to make sure he made a good choice in recruiting you. And having never had the privilege to see you work like this before, I felt the urge to agree even more so.” 

You could feel like there was something off or something else he wasn’t sharing, so you just raised your eyebrow at him, waiting for him to continue. He took a slightly large inhale before changing to a more cautious tone of voice. 

“I also agreed because Will and I thought it would be safest if I followed this case as well.” 

Your mood went from confused and unsure to upset and slightly betrayed very quickly once Hannibal’s reasoning settled in your brain. You tried your best to stay cool, but you couldn’t help the frustration that slightly morphed your voice. 

“So this is Will’s way of babysitting me, is it? He-- No. Both of you are so sure that something is going to happen that you felt the need to put yourself on this case?” 

“This is just a precaution and to try and help Will feel a bit better about the situation.” 

“I--.” 

Before either of you could continue, Jack’s voice rang from the next room over.

“Lecter! Graham! Get in here! We don’t have all night!” 

You took a deep breath, trying to sort out the clusterfuck of emotions in your head. You opened your eyes and diverted all attention to walking away from Hannibal and ignoring the situation. Before you could take a full step, Hannibal tried to speak. 

“(Y/N)--”

You just paused and held your hand up to stop him.

“I’m sorry but I really do not want to talk to you about any of this right now. I just want to go in there, get some initial findings, and go home.” You couldn’t fully see it, but Hannibal nodded his head in understanding and extended his arm in the direction of the next room. You muttered a small “thank you” before continuing towards where Jack called out for you.

You would deal with all of this later. For now, you needed to be able to look at this scene and try to find anything that could save whoever this creep had in mind next. 

Walking into the room, you saw the various markers and teams working on collecting evidence and taking pictures. Jack was right by the door to greet you into your first macabre serial killer scene.

“Give us the room.” Jack ordered and everyone got to the end of whatever they were doing and filed out, giving you, Jack, and Hannibal the room to yourselves. Now you could get a better visual of just what you were dealing with. 

“Do you want to know what we have so far, or do you want to just do your thing?” Jack watched you as you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the scene in front of you. All you could do was shake your head ‘no’ as you worked your hands into a fresh pair of gloves, which was enough of an answer for Jack.

“The floor is yours, (Y/N) and Dr. Lecter.” 

With Jack’s previous experience with your brother, he had learned to just let your brain work and then talk later. But Hannibal had never seen this side of you, so he observed with immense curiosity as to what you pick up on and the connections you make. 

“I would rather (Y/N) take over. This is her case. I am just here for support.” Hannibal said somewhat softly, seeing that you were trying to slip into the same mindset as he had witnessed earlier with Mrs. Pencalt.

You tried to just breathe through the resentment you were feeling as you straightened your shoulders and stepped through the doorway of the room, slowly making yourself forget that they were there, focusing on how your killer would have done all of this.

You could assume this was Dr. Pencalt and Mrs. Pencalt shared bedroom from the general layout of the home, or the fact that Dr. Pencalt was laid out in the middle of a king sized bed. 

As you stepped closer and closer, you were able to see those clean cut lines that you’d come to know very well by now. His body looked slightly elongated due to the fact that he, like the previous Scalpel victims, was dissected at every major joint. Each part of him had an inch or so gap between each other. 

Making your way around the bed, you found the door to the attached master bathroom open and the light on, a trail of blood connecting the bed to the bathroom. When you peeked inside, the once pristinely gray floor tiles now had a layer of red over them and thick blood stuck in the grout. You nodded as you committed that room to memory and walked back to the bed.

You carefully tilt Dr. Pelcant’s head to the side to try and find a small hole in where a syringe would have gone, figuring it would be somewhere in his neck. You couldn’t find anything with just your naked eye. 

“We’ll have to see if Beverly or Zeller can find the injection point. If we can see any sort of angle to it, that could help narrow down our killer’s height.”

Jack wrote that down in his notes as you took a step back from the body and scanned the whole room again. Your gut was saying that you just needed to keep looking. Hannibal and Crawford watched you, waiting to see if you had anything else to add. Hannibal saw that you were slightly troubled by something.

“Something wrong, (Y/N)?

"Something about all of this is off."

“What is it?" Jack butt in, a slight shift in his tone making you a little more frustrated at yourself for not seeing it yet.

"I'm not sure. It’s just-- This set up- This doesn't feel like the others. Not entirely."

"Could it be because these are not photographs, like how you're used to seeing?" You know Hannibal didn’t mean to sound condescending in any way, but with your bitter bias towards him right now, it definitely felt it. Still, you didn’t look away from the bed.

"No. I know it's not that."

You couldn’t tell exactly what Jack and Hannibal were discussing behind you but you didn’t really care; Everything had started to muffle as you focused more and more on the display in front of you. 

My eyes and gut keep bringing me here. This is it. Something isn’t right here. But what the hell is it? The body is cut up in the same way as the other doctors. The only slightly weird thing is that the eyes are left open on this vic. Everything is so neat and tidy, why can’t I tell what is wrong?

Then it hit you. That’s what is wrong: Things were neat. More specifically, the bedsheets.

"The sheets." You felt the words slip out of your mouth as your brain was still going, now picking up on how this bedroom looked like a picture from a Better Homes & Gardens magazine, just with a dead body laying in the bed instead of a photogenic couple or dog or something.

“(Y/N), I really don't think their choice in bedding lead to their--"

"Shh! Shut up for a second! Just-- Everyone shut up!" You waved your hand at Crawford to try to quiet him quicker. Jack was about to reprimand you, but Hannibal held up a hand to him, letting him know that you were on to something. You did a full circle around the room before landing back on the sheets. 

“The sheets are flat.” You said aloud, moreso to yourself than to the other two off to the side. You then looked directly at Jack, not giving Hannibal any attention, knowing that would bring your personal life back up and derail the potentially good track you were on.

“There are only two victims in this household, correct?” You spoke while following the blood drip stains from the edges of the bed to the pool on the floor to the trail that led to the bathroom.

“Yes.” Crawford responded, slightly judgmental.

“And we’re sure about that?”

“Positive. I looked in every room in this house myself before you two got here.” You just nodded, your eyes finding their way to the bathroom and the seemingly odd pool of blood in there.

“Were there any weapons found in the bathroom?” Both men were a bit confused at the sudden change of topic, but continued anyway.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“How well did the crime scene interns look though?”

“What exactly are you insinuating, (Y/N)?” You could tell that Jack wasn’t a fan of you talking like that, but you had your reasons. 

“Either we have a mysterious third victim that was killed in the bathroom and then vanished, or this is one of those cases where the evidence collecting teams didn’t search thoroughly enough and missed out on a piece of evidence.” Jack waved his hand, motioning for you to keep talking. 

“Taking into account that there is only one trail of blood that leads between these two pools of blood, there are in fact only two victims in this house. So what I am insinuating is that your collection team missed something.” You turned back to the corpse in the bed and went on to explain yourself further, physically taking the steps that the vic would have taken in this likely scenario. 

“Dr. Pencalt was relaxing in bed when he heard commotion in the kitchen. Instead of jumping out of bed and going to check it out with no weapon, he rushed to his bathroom to search for something to defend himself with.” 

You quickly scanned over the bathroom, your eyes finally landing on exactly what you were looking for: the toilet. You gently hopped over the blood that had stuck to the tiles and got to the toilet. You lifted up the lid to the tank and reached in. You turned back to the men as you got the new piece of evidence out safely.

“One of the most common places that civilians hide their guns or valuables are in airtight baggies, in the tanks of their toilets.”

Jack gave you a slightly annoyed look before calling for an evidence bag and handing it to you. You sealed up the gun and hopped back to the main bedroom, Hannibal making sure to help steady you as you landed. Once you were on solid ground again, he respectfully backed away. You gave the gun to Jack, turned around to face the bathroom, and continued your assessment.

“So, like I said, he goes to his bathroom to try to get his gun to defend himself against whatever he thinks is in his kitchen other than his wife. He gets into the bathroom but then is stopped before he can make it to the toilet or his gun. Here, he is injected with whatever insanely fast paralytic drug our killer decided to use tonight, and falls to the ground, where the killer decides to chop him up.” You walked parallel to the trail of blood leading back to the bed. “And then place him here.”

You could feel yourself slowly losing your grip on your mind due to exhaustion. You took your gloves off and ran your hands over your face. 

“I need to get some air. I did all I can here. I need to write some stuff out and then I can get back at this tomorrow when I have some more forensic evidence to work off of.” You were about to leave the room when Jack called out.

“No.” You stopped and faced him to see if he was serious. His face was stone. “Write out what you need to. Then I want you and you, Dr. Lecter, to report back to my office in an hour. I need a list of suspects, a good motive, or something out of this case, tonight.”

You knew you couldn’t do or say anything to change Jack’s mind without possibly getting yourself taken off the case. So you just took a deep breath and nodded, making your way out of the bedroom. Hannibal just nodded his head as well and followed you out.

You heard the soft but quick steps of Hannibal’s nice shoes catch up to you as you reached your car. You didn’t want to talk to him, not sure of what you would even say now that you felt almost completely drained. 

“Hannibal, I really don't--”

“I know.” 

You were slightly taken aback at his interruption. He leaned slightly towards you and opened your car door. You then realized that he only wanted to make sure you got to your car safe, as he always did when he was with you. You felt slightly guilty, but tried to not think about it too much as he waited until you had your seat belt on to shut the door. Letting you drive off; Leaving you alone in your car to try to prepare for this undoubtedly intense brainstorming in an hour.

[yoddream]

the devil to my angel | h.rj

because there’s literally no gif that fits better than this one

pairing: devil!renjun x fem!reader

warnings: uh swearing, pettiness, angst, fluff, drinking, underage drinking (looking at you string bean), honestly I don’t remember anything else i’m sorry

word count: 6k

summary: you’ve seen the cartoons. you’ve also seen your own devil that lived on your shoulder.

a/n: AYYYYYYYYYE ITS HERE!!!! I swear I was gonna post it that night but then my friend needed to get out of the house so I went with her instead, and I’ve been busy with work and errands oops. my b. but here it is! I hope it’s as good as you all expected it to be.

He showed up when you were in kindergarten. Your best friend, Jaemin, had taken the seat next to Jeno, the boy you thought was cute, when he knew you wanted to sit there. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes when all of a sudden, there was a tiny “pssst!” in your ear. Looking over, you found a tiny boy about your age sitting on your shoulder. He was wearing a red t-shirt, red shorts, and red shoes. He had protruding from his hair, and a tail that flicked back and forth.

“Take the cap off his favorite marker,” he whispered.

“What?” you asked quietly.

“Take the cap off Jaemin’s favorite marker! He deserves it after taking your spot,” he urged you.

“But then he won’t be able to use it,” you said with a pout.

“So? It’s not gonna hurt him or anything.”

He gave you a smile that you couldn’t refuse. So, you went to Jaemin’s desk at the end of the day and took the cap off the pink marker before shoving it back in his pencil box. Your stomach twisted a little, but you ignored it when you looked at the boy on your shoulder. He grinned at you one more time before disappearing.

The next morning, there were wails echoing down the hallway as Jaemin sobbed over his favorite marker having been dried out overnight. The boy on your shoulder was cackling at the reaction, but you felt tears well up in your eyes. He looked over at you and immediately started panicking.

“Why are you crying?!”

“Because I hurt Jaemin. He’s my best friend,” you mumbled. “I feel really bad.”

“He’ll be fine, Y/N. It’s just a marker.”

You still felt bad, so when it was time to color, you gave Jaemin your pink marker. It wasn’t anywhere close to his, but he gave you a giant hug and let you sit next to Jeno, so you felt better. The boy on your shoulder pouted when you tried to make things right, but he didn’t say anything.

It took you a year to find out his name was Renjun, and that was only because you were going to scold him for suggesting something too mean, only to realize you didn’t know his name. After that, he showed up whenever you were upset, giving you new ways to make the people who hurt you inconvenienced in the pettiest ways possible. Whether it was by eating the last cookie when you knew Haechan wanted it after he made fun of you for your crush on Jeno, to emptying the shampoo bottle until there were only a couple drops because your sister made Jaemin cry because he played with your Barbies with you.

You were in college now, rooming with Jaemin and Jeno. It took you forever to get over your crush on the older boy, but you still appreciated his face and didn’t hesitate to cuddle with him during movie nights. Renjun still visited, but there wasn’t much reason for him to be with you as much as he was. The two of you had become friends in a way, but it was still very obvious that he was supposed to be there to help you get revenge.

“So, what am I doing again?” you asked quietly as you stood in line at Starbucks.

Jaemin had taken the last of your frozen waffles—your name was written all over the box so nobody would take them—the other day, so Renjun had suggested messing with his coffee order when the three of you met up for your study date after your morning lecture. It was your turn to order, which made it perfect.

“Ask Haechan to make Jaemin’s drink and add a shit ton of strawberry syrup to it. Then tell him that when Jaemin goes up to order a new drink, make one that’s decaf that looks like his cup of poison,” he told you. “You were going to eat those waffles for breakfast that morning, and instead your stomach was growling so loudly in your lecture that your professor kicked you out. He embarrassed you, and he ate something that was clearly not his. It’s a double whammy.”

It was your turn to order, so you said exactly what Renjun reminded you to say. Haechan had to stifle a laugh as he asked what Jaemin had done, his eyes widening when you explained what had happened to cause you to act out like this. The drinks were made quickly, and you brought them over to the table. The boys thanked you before returning to their books. Renjun appeared in the middle of the table, his silver hair shining under the light as he kept his full attention on the boy with pink hair. You nudged Jeno to watch Jaemin as the boy took a sip of his drink. His face twisted is disgust when the taste of strawberry hit his taste buds. Renjun was rolling around the table, cackling while holding his stomach.

“Ugh, I hate you,” Jaemin muttered as he sent a glare your way before heading to the counter to get a new drink.

“What’d you do?” Jeno asked as he leaned into your space. There was a sound of disgust that came in the direction of Renjun, but you ignored it.

“Told Haechan to put a bunch of strawberry syrup in Jaemin’s drink since he ate my waffles,” you replied.

He snorted and shoved your shoulder lightly. “That one was pure evil.”

“You’re not denying that he deserved it,” you pointed out.

“No, I’m not.”

“I absolutely did not deserve that!” Jaemin argued when he came back with his new drink. You glanced at Haechan, who winked at you.

“You ate my waffles,” you said.

“It was an accident!”

“I wrote my name all over the box!”

Renjun tugged on your finger to get your attention as Jaemin complained to Jeno about you. The little devil crawled up your arm and returned to his spot on your shoulder. You found it odd, considering he could just teleport himself there, but now wasn’t a good time to question it. Hiding him from your friends was difficult, but you didn’t want them to think you were crazy.

After your classes were done for the day, you collapsed on your bed and let out a big sigh. There were small footsteps on the nightstand beside you. Knowing who it was, you didn’t bother to look over.

“What’s wrong, kitten?” Renjun asked from his perch.

Your heart leapt at the nickname. It didn’t matter that he’d been calling you that since you were a kid; his nickname for you made your stomach twist in a good way. It sometimes made your cheeks heat up and your palms to sweat. Your body’s reaction scared you every time, because if you were imagining him—well, you didn’t want to think about it.

“’M just tired,” you stated. “My coursework seems to be growing bigger and bigger every week.”

Your pillow suddenly shifted under Renjun’s weight as he jumped down. His steps were shaky as he tried to stay steady on the stuffed object. You turned you head as he reached you, wondering what he was planning.

“I’m sorry. I wish I could help,” he said honestly before pressing his tiny lips to your cheek.

“It’s okay. I’ll just have to manage my time better.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean hanging out with me less,” he said with a chuckle.

You smiled. “Of course not.”

You took some time to admire him. He was wearing a red button-up that was done up to the collar, tucked into some black slacks, a pair of black dress shoes on his feet. His silver hair was combed back but relaxed. He looked so handsome, but you would never tell him that.

“Hey,” you said. “I have a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Why isn’t there an angel to accompany you? You know, like they have in the movies.”

The boy smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Because you’re already an angel.”

You blushed at the comment and flicked him, which knocked him over. “Shut up.”

“Hey, you were the one that asked,” he whined.

You laughed and watched as he returned to the nightstand to pout, arms crossed and everything. Crawling over, you leaned on your elbows and watched as he turned away. You stretched your head enough to press a kiss to the back of his head, and you watch the hue of his shirt crawl up the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry, Renjun. Do you forgive me?” you asked.

The boy turned around and let his arms fall to his sides. “I guess.”

A few hours later, you were working on your homework when you heard the tiny snores coming from your bed. Looking over, you found Renjun knocked out on your UFO squishable. He’d convinced you to get it when you’d gone to the mall a couple months ago, and it was his favorite thing to sit on when you were too busy to give him your attention. Your phone was playing a video beside him, so you got up to turn it off. He stirred, his eyes slowly opening as he smiled at you sleepily.

“Hey there, kitten,” he mumbled.

“Hey. C’mon, you’re falling asleep. Either head home or go to bed,” you told him quietly.

Groaning, he stood up and crawled onto the shelving that was in your headboard. In one of the little cubbies was a doll bed that was comfortable enough for him. There was also a doll’s closet nearby that held some of Renjun’s clothes. With a snap of his fingers, he was changed into red silk pajamas. You decided it was time to go to bed as well, so Renjun made sure to cover his eyes until you were in shorts and an oversized t-shirt. His lips pursed, but he didn’t say anything. You plugged your phone in before turning off your lights and crawling into bed. There was a press of tiny lips against your forehead.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

///

Having a devil sit in your shirt pocket as you attended your classes was definitely weird. Renjun didn’t need to be there, but he insisted he did in case you needed to get revenge on anyone. It hurt whenever you were feeling especially lonely, wishing he would tell you that he just wanted to spend time with you, but you knew his job demanded him to track you as much as possible. There were times you two were friends, but then he would turn around and act as if he was just there to do his job.

“This lecture is so boring,” Renjun whined as he flopped onto your desk. “Why can’t we go get ice cream?”

You ignored him, continuing to write notes from the PowerPoint. He shoved your pen to grab your attention, but you simply pushed him away with the tip of your writing utensil. Frowning, he sat on your textbook and watched as your pen glided across the paper, the ink looping stains into the surface in the form of words.  You questioned why he would stay when he could do whatever he wanted until the lecture was over. There would be no reason to get revenge while you were taking notes.

When class was over, you headed back to the apartment. Jeno and Jaemin were in the living room with their books out. You collapsed onto the couch between them and leaned against Jaemin. You could feel the smile he pressed to your forehead in a kiss before returning his attention to studying.

“That’s it?” you asked.

There was a chuckle, and then you were being dragged into his lap. You could hear his voice raise in pitch as he nuzzled your neck and tickled you, saying “I love you,” over and over again. You giggled and squirmed in his hold, but he didn’t let go. Jeno was watching from the other side of the couch, smiling brightly. Between your schedules, the three of you didn’t get much time together outside of your weekly movie nights, so moments like this were ones you cherished.

“Satisfied?” Jaemin asked when he finally pulled away.

“Very. So, what movies are we watching tonight?”

The boy holding you froze. You could feel him tense up, and you knew what he was going to say wasn’t what you wanted to hear. “I, uh, I actually have a date tonight.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh. Okay.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N—”

You waved it off with a smile. “Jaemin, don’t worry. Jeno and I can still have our movie night, right?”

“Actually—”

Groaning, you got up and started to leave. “Fine. I’m gonna go study.”

You ignored their calls to you, closing your bedroom door and locking it. You weren’t upset that they had plans; it was the fact that they didn’t tell you until you brought up movie night. Nobody liked learning about something last-minute.

You were lying on your bed when Renjun appeared. He crawled across the pillow and tangled himself in the hair on the top of your head. He loved playing with your hair, especially when he knew it could calm you down.

“So, what are you gonna do for the rest of the night, kitten?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Probably just watch movies alone and drink. I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“I can watch with you.”

“I don’t want you to get lost in the couch,” you mumbled.

“Oh! I almost forgot! I have a new trick.”

Before you could ask, he was jumping off your bed. You gasped, even though you knew he wouldn’t be hurt, and watched there was a sudden puff of smoke, and then Renjun was standing in your room, human-sized. He threw his arms out as if to say, “Well, what do you think?”

“Renjun, that’s amazing!” you exclaimed.

You jumped up and threw your arms around his neck. He grunted in surprise before slowly hugging you back. His face was buried in your neck as he said, “I won’t get lost in the couch like this.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the comment. You tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go, so you guided him to the bed. He immediately laid the two of you down, pressing close to your side. It was the complete opposite of how he usually acted, so you were concerned.

“You okay?” you asked.

He nodded and said, “I’ve never hugged someone before. It’s nice.”

“O-oh. Well, feel free to hug me anytime.”

A couple hours later, Jaemin knocked on your door to let you know that he was leaving. You told him to have fun, making sure you didn’t sound upset. Jeno showed up shortly after, telling you he was heading to work. You vaguely remembered him mentioning needing to pick up shifts since hours were down, which would explain why he was working a night he usually didn’t. Once they were gone, you and Renjun headed to the kitchen to make snacks before starting your movie night. The way he moved around was awkward, as if he didn’t know how to act now that he was human-sized.

Once everything was ready, the two of you curled up on the couch, blankets thrown over your laps. There were two different kinds of alcohol on the coffee table, along with three kinds of snacks. Your heart raced as he threw an arm around your shoulders, but you ignored it as you clicked on a random movie. Immediately, you grabbed a bottle and took a swig, wincing at the burning that slid down your throat. There were eyes boring into the side of your head, but you ignored it and grabbed some fries instead.

About half an hour into the movie, Renjun stated, “Humans are weird.”

“How so?” you questioned.

“Does she really dress up as her brother every day? How the hell do her teammates not notice?” he asked.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Boys are dumb, Renjun.”

“I’m a boy.”

“You’re not a human boy.”

He let out a sigh and pulled you closer. “Thank god.”

You didn’t know how much time had passed when you reached the bottom of the one of the bottles. Neither of them anything more than halfway filled, but it was still a lot of alcohol to have consumed. You put the bottle down and reached for the other, but a hand on your wrist made you pause. You looked over to Renjun, who seemed worried. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the bottle and took a swig.

“I’m not taking care of you tomorrow,” he told you.

“You never do,” you pointed out. “I’ll be fine.”

The room was spinning, despite you not moving. Your head felt heavy, so you let it loll to the side. It hit Renjun’s shoulder, but you didn’t bother to move it. You could hear him mumble something, but you were too drunk to ask him to repeat it. Instead, you closed your eyes and let the alcohol lull you to sleep.

Jaemin and Jeno walked through the door, feeling exhausted. Jaemin had been stood up, so he went to Jeno’s job and waited for his shift to be over before they went home. The two of them looked at the sight before them and sighed. You were slumped over, passed out. Both bottles were empty, all the snacks were gone, and the TV lit up the room with the main menu of your favorite movie. They looked at each other before stepping forward to clean up the mess. They knew you weren’t upset about them leaving you alone on movie night, but they couldn’t help but feel bad. You wouldn’t have drunk so much if they’d been there, and you definitely wouldn’t be so hungover tomorrow.

Renjun watched as they cleaned, making sure to move gingerly around you, even though the three of you knew nothing would disturb you when you were in this state. He then looked at you and frowned; watching you drink like that scared him. You didn’t do it often, but when you did, you went pretty hard. He didn’t know what he would do if something bad ever happened to you while you were in that state.

///

“No.”

“But—”

“No, Renjun. I’m not doing it.”

“But he gave you a low score!” the devil argued.

You were sitting at your desk, staring at the test that you had taken a couple weeks ago. You had studied for it, but the questions were super hard, so you weren’t surprised to see the mark. Renjun, however, wanted you to get revenge.

“I deserved it, though. Looking at everything now, I can see where I messed up. It’s completely on me, not him,” you told him.

Renjun huffed and crossed his arms. “Fine, but you better do whatever I suggest next time.”

“To him or in general?”

“Both.”

Rolling your eyes, you headed to the kitchen and looked through the cupboards for something to eat. You could hear Jaemin and Jeno start to whisper to each other harshly, but you ignored it. You were looking for your favorite cereal, but the box wasn’t there. Confused, you glanced around and found it sitting the recycling bin. You slowly turned around to find your roommates holding cereal bowls, looking like deer caught in headlights.

“Jeno poured it,” Jaemin said quickly before going back to eating.

“Dude!” the other boy cries out. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was yours. I thought Jaemin bought it!”

“For her! I bought it for her!”

Without a word, you grabbed your keys, a sweatshirt, and your wallet before walking out. Your slippers made a shuffling sound as you walked through the apartment building and down the street to the convenience store. There, you bought your favorite cereal, a new gallon of milk because you knew you were running low, and some candy. Renjun appeared on your shoulder, a devilish grin on his face. How fitting.

“What’s the plan?” you asked as you walked back to the apartment.

“I was thinking of dyeing his hair to match Jaemin’s?”

You couldn’t help but grin. “That’s a step above petty, isn’t it?”

“It was your favorite cereal.”

“You’re just suggesting it because you’re still upset about Jeno rejecting me.”

He scoffed. “He turned down a perfectly good girl. How else was I supposed to react?”

You could feel the blush heating your cheeks. “I don’t know, like you don’t care? I thought you weren’t supposed to worry about me?”

“After spending fifteen years with you, do you really think I wouldn’t care about your feelings?” he questioned.

“Guess not.”

When you returned to the apartment, the boys were nowhere to be found. You remembered that Jeno had to work again, and Jaemin was driving him to work, so you acted fast. Luckily, the hair mask that Jeno used on his bleached hair was already a pink color (because Chenle bought it from an expensive salon store and there was no way a broke college kid with hair that desperately needed hydration in his hair would turn it down, no matter the color) so you mixed in some of Jaemin’s hair dye and put everything back in its place before carefully shoving the trash to the bottom of the can. You then entered your room right as Jaemin came back, so you were safe.

You woke up to a scream the next morning before your door was thrown open. Sitting up, you looked at Jeno’s hair, a hand flying to your mouth to stifle your giggles. His blond locks were now a pastel pink, matching your best friend almost perfectly. There was a deep frown on his face as he stared at you.

“My hair? Really?” he asked.

You got out of bed and walked over, running your fingers through his hair once you reached him. His eyes closed at the feeling, all tension from his body leaving immediately. You smiled and said, “You look good in pink.”

His eyes opened halfway and he stared at you with a grin on his face as you scratched his skull lightly. “You sure know how to get me to calm down.”

“We’ve been friends since we were five, Jeno. I’d be concerned if I didn’t know how,” you stated.

“Did you put it in my hair mask?” You nodded. “Well, I guess I can keep it pink for a while.”

“Honey, you don’t really have a choice.” You stood on your toes to whisper in his ear, “Just don’t eat my cereal again,” before pressing a kiss to his cheek and leaving your room.

Renjun appeared on the couch in the family room, his facial expression similar to what Jeno’s was a couple minutes ago. “What the hell was that?”

You shrugged, knowing the boys could hear you. He rolled his eyes and asked, “You realize you just flirted with him, right?”

“So what?” you mouthed.

“I thought you were over him.” You nodded again. “Clearly not if you’re acting like this.”

You scoffed as you poured yourself some coffee before making a bowl of cereal. Whatever you did shouldn’t make him so angry, so you weren’t worried about it. If he was mad, that was on him. You could live your life however you wanted, so if you flirted with Jeno, you flirted with Jeno. There was no harm.

You decided to work on your homework, hoping to get it done before Haechan’s frat’s party. All the guys were going, so you were excited to hang with them. Jeno and Jaemin waited for you to finish your homework before leaving for the party. Renjun was back on your shoulder, dressed in a red sweatshirt and black skinny jeans. The sweatshirt was oversized, practically swallowing him. He looked adorable, but you couldn’t say anything without the others hearing you, so you just had to settle for looking at him as much as you could.

Before you even stepped on the property you could feel the bass in your chest. It seemed like the lights were off, but you could see the glow of blacklights from the windows. It would be easy to spot Jaemin and Jeno, even when you were drunk.

You walked through the door and pushed through the crowd to the kitchen. There, you found Jisung, Chenle, and Mark doing shots. Jisung locked eyes with you and spat out the shot, though. You placed your hands on your hips and waited for his excuse.

“I was just, uh, I was—sorry Mom,” he stuttered.

“Dude, she can’t control you,” Chenle stated.

“No, but I hate when she’s disappointed in me,” Jisung whined.

You hit Chenle on the back of the head as you passed him to grab a cup and some liquor. “Be grateful somebody’s here to take care of you, brat.”

Chenle threw an arm over your shoulders and pressed a noisy kiss to the side of your head. “I always am.”

It didn’t take long for the alcohol to take over. You were drinking random liquor, playing beer pong, and taking shots with Mark and Haechan. Renjun had disappeared at some point, but you were too drunk to care. At one point, you found yourself dancing with Jeno in the family room. Everybody was pressed close together, so you didn’t think much about the hands on your hips. You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep yourself steady. Your foreheads were pressed together, and it felt nice.

You didn’t know how long the two of you were kissing before you finally realized what was happening. You pulled away and stared at one of your best friends, jaw dropped in shock. Jeno’s eyes opened slowly, your gazes meeting. You could tell that he was surprised as well by the way his body tensed up. You looked around and froze when you spotted Renjun. You expected him to look annoyed or angry, but not upset. Not like his heart was broken.

“Renjun,” you said.

The devil turned around and pushed through the crowd. You pulled away from Jeno and followed Renjun, calling his name over and over to get him to stop. When you exited the house, he looked at you one more time before disappearing in a puff of smoke. There was a lump in your throat as tears threaten to spill.

“Renjun, please,” you whispered.

Usually he came as soon as you called him, but that night he didn’t.

///

Jaemin was worried. You hadn’t holed yourself in your room since Jeno gently rejected you when you were all sophomores. Jaemin had managed to get you to open up for him back then, but this time you wouldn’t budge. At this point, he just wanted to make sure you were alive. The door hadn’t opened since the night of the party.

He knew what happened at the party. He saw what happened. He watched you run away, seemingly chase someone. He caught you when you had collapsed on the lawn in tears. He carried you home as you mumbled about a “Renjun” over and over again. He had no idea what you were talking about, but it was clearly the reason you were shutting everyone out.

You skipped class for two days before finally returning to your normal schedule. Jeno and Jaemin tried to talk to you, but you kept ear buds whenever you weren’t in class. They could tell that you had lost weight by the way your sweatshirts hung on your frame as if it was one of theirs instead. You buried yourself in your studies, working on essays well into the night.

It was about a month after the party when Jaemin and Jeno finally cornered you. You were in the living room, highlighting one of your textbooks when Jaemin snatched it from your grasp. You made a noise of protest, but he ignored it in favor of sitting on the coffee table. You could see Jeno standing by the hallway, unsure of whether he should join or not.

“Y/N, we’re worried about you,” Jaemin stated. “You haven’t talked to anyone, and you haven’t been eating enough. You’ve lost far too much weight to convince us you’ve been working out. No, don’t you dare argue with me, we both know that’s what you would’ve told us. We don’t want to get a call from the hospital that you passed out on campus. It would break our hearts to see you like that.”

“’M sorry,” you mumbled.

“We just want to know what’s been going on,” Jeno chimed in. “It’s not just because I kissed you; that’s been made clear.”

“Does it have to do with somebody named Renjun?” Jaemin asked quietly.

You felt your composure crumble. You hadn’t seen or heard from Renjun in a month, and it was killing you. The longer it went on, the more you were convinced that he had never existed in the first place. You were scared for what that meant; would anything else pop up that would have you questioning your own sanity?

The doorbell rang, so Jeno offered to get it, saying something about Mark coming over to study. Jaemin reached out and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder as you tried to hold it all together. It was so difficult to, especially when you hadn’t talked to anyone about it.

“Y/N, it’s for you,” Jeno called out.

Confused, you got up to see who would be visiting the apartment. Your whole body froze up as your eyes landed on the boy standing before you. His silver hair was trimmed and combed back. He was wearing a button-up, a light jean jacket, and black jeans. In his hand was a paper bag with no logo on it. There was a sad smile on his face as he stared at you.

“Renjun,” you whispered.

“Hey, kitten.”

The nickname made you move. You ran forward and jumped into his arms, muffling your sobs in his neck. His hands clutched your body tight, as if he was afraid you would disappear. You knew Jaemin and Jeno were watching, but you couldn’t bring yourself to face them just yet.

“So, this is the Renjun that you’ve been so upset over?” Jaemin asked. You could hear the protectiveness in his voice.

“Jaemin,” Jeno hissed. “Give them their time.”

“Can we go to your room?” Renjun asked.

You nodded and grabbed his hand before dragging him down the hallway. As soon as your door was closed, you hugged him again. He rubbed your back and pressed kiss after kiss to your hair, apologies flying out of his mouth in between.

“I just—how are you here? How can they see you?” you asked.

He seemed to hesitate before grabbing your hand. He guided it to his head, and you could feel ridges on his head. It dawned on you that they were scars, located where his horns used to be. You gasped and pulled your hand away to place it on his cheek instead.

“What happened?” you questioned.

“I, uh, I gave it all up.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged and said, “I became a human.”

Your breath got caught in your throat. Why would he become a human? He could do whatever he wanted as the devil, so why would he give it all up?

“Why?” you finally asked.

A sigh left his lips as he sat on your bed. You followed, not wanting him to stray too far. He seemed to hesitate before grabbing your hand. “When you’re the devil, you’re not supposed to feel anything but anger and happiness, and the happiness is only supposed to happen when you get the person you’ve been assigned to do whatever you feel they should do. Caring about them was not something we could do, so I already knew there was something up. Feeling like I wanted to cry when I saw you kissing Jeno? It wasn’t supposed to be possible. And then I checked on you a couple days after the party, and—”

“You checked on me?” you asked quietly.

He smiled softly. “Of course I did. I’ve never been able to stay away for long. Anyway, I heard Jeno apologizing through the door. I knew you were both too drunk to know what you were doing. I went to Satan and talked to him for a long time about it, and he set up tests to make sure I wanted to become a human.”

“Sounds like you jumped through hoops to get here.”

“They were on fire, too.”

You laughed at his joke, which made him smile. Then, he urged you to get a shower, which would be the first time in a few days. Embarrassed, you rushed to the bathroom and jumped in as soon as the water was hot. You took the time to clean every crevice on your body, which you noticed was actually as thin as Jaemin and Jeno had said. They weren’t exaggerating when they said something about you passing out.

Upon exiting the shower, you noticed there was a pile of clothing sitting on the counter. Confused, you walked over to inspect it. None of it was familiar, but you pulled it on anyway. They smelled like cologne that you knew neither Jaemin nor Jeno owned; Renjun must’ve sneaked them in without you noticing. Smiling, you took the towel and dried your hair a little before stepping out of the bathroom. The three boys were in the living room, your friends seemingly interrogating Renjun. He looked over to you and rolled his eyes before grinning.

“Hey there,” he greeted. “You hungry? I brought some food from your favorite place.”

You nodded shyly and watched him grab it from the paper bag he brought with him. You went to sit next to him on the couch, but he grabbed your hips and guided you to his lap, instead. A squeak left your mouth, and there was a low chuckle behind you.

“Either of you planning on telling us what happened?” Jaemin asked, clearly annoyed.

You turned to Renjun, who was biting his lip. He looked at you, and you shrugged. He sighed and looked at your friends before saying, “So, I was the devil that lived on her shoulder.”

Renjun told them everything. When he first appeared, everything he’d convinced you to do, how his feelings for you grew, him seeing what happened at the party, becoming a human, everything. Their eyes were wide, their jaws were dropped, and their bodies seemed to be frozen in shock. You munched along, listening to Renjun’s side of the story. When he was done, you looked at your friends and waited for their reactions.

“You know, that actually makes a lot of sense,” Jeno commented.

Jaemin flailed. “What?!”

“Every once in a while, it seemed like she looked to her shoulder and talked. I always thought I was imagining it or she was doing something else,” Jeno explained.

You let out a big yawn before anything else could be said, so Renjun suggested going to your room to nap. He tossed out your trash and was soon on your heels, locking the door behind you two. He joined you on the bed and threw an arm over your waist. Rolling over, your eyes locked with his. It was a couple minutes before he finally asked, “What’s on your mind, kitten?”

“Just wondering when you’re gonna kiss me,” you mumbled.

Smiling, he propped himself on his arm and leaned over you. Your lips brushed before you finally took the last step and pulled him down. He grunted in surprise, and then his hands came up to cup your face. Your heart was beating like crazy, and it felt like it would burst from your chest any minute. He pulled away and pressed a couple kisses to your cheek before leaving a final one on your forehead.

There was so much that needed to be talked about. He needed to situate himself in the real world with school, a job, and a place of his own. He needed to learn the mannerisms of humans since he didn’t care to pay attention before. But for now, taking a nap with him was the only thing on your mind, and that was okay.

Everything was okay.