#also yes i just pulled the title from finally free

[seoltzuki]

nyc baby!

mina x fem reader

fluff, suggestive

gentle, fleeting, free, adoring, just wondering what life would be like as lovers in a normal world

a/n: self-indulgent bc nyc is a place i adore very much and i'm convinced that in my future life i belong there with my future lover xx (also title stolen from an old work of mine that was with seulgi instead)

Would we be happier in another normal life?

Mina sighs happily as she finishes up the New York Times mini crossword. She’s been on a roll with these ever since you landed, even sending you a screenshot during her Boucheron event.

You’re just about to slip out of bed to grab bagels from across the street when she suddenly whines, grabbing your arm and pulling you back with a pout.

“Needy,” you tease, sinking back into the sheets.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes playfully. “Funny coming from you. Don’t you remember last night?”

“You mean a couple of hours ago?” you reply, grinning. “I don’t think I was the needy one—you’ve left a number on me,” you say, pointing to the faint red marks on your neck.

Mina’s cheeks flush pink as she fumbles for a defense. "Well, it’s your fault," she mutters. "You sent me that picture while I was at the event."

You laugh softly. "It was literally just a good night selfie."

She groans, burying her face in the pillow. "You were in your robe, looking all cozy and good! What did you expect?"

You grin, leaning closer. "So, you admit it—you were the needy one after all."

Mina peeks out from the pillow, her cheeks flushed as she grins mischievously. “Fine, maybe I was,” she admits, her voice low and teasing. “It’s hard to control myself when my girl always looks this good.”

Her words send a rush through you, and before you can think, your lips are on hers. The kiss starts soft, but her fingers are already tangled in your hair, pulling you closer. The warmth of her mouth deepens the kiss, and soon, everything else fades away as you melt into her.

She shifts beneath you, tugging you on top of her as the kiss becomes more intense, her hands roaming over your back, making it hard to focus on anything but her touch.

When you finally pull away, breathless, your foreheads rest together, a grin spreading across your face. “I guess the bagels can wait.”

Mina laughs softly, her fingers brushing your cheek. “Definitely worth waiting for.”

~~~

After breakfast, the two of you wandered over to Bryant Park, sipping coffee beneath the trees, watching the city hum with life.

You spent the next hour window shopping along Fifth Avenue, admiring the elegant displays without any pressure to buy. There was only so much you could bring back home, but Mina’s eyes sparkled at every storefront, and you found yourself more captivated by her excitement than anything in the windows.

Now, you’re strolling through Central Park, hand in hand, the noise of the city fading away as you walk the winding paths. The soft rustle of leaves and distant laughter blend into the air as Mina leans into you, her arm wrapped around yours.

“So, you still want to head to DUMBO for the bridge view, right?” you ask, glancing at Mina over your sunglasses.

Her face lights up instantly. “Yes! Let’s call a taxi,” she says, already reaching for her phone.

“No way! Let’s do this right—let’s take the subway. The real New York experience.”

Mina hesitates, her excitement shifting to uncertainty as she raises an eyebrow. “The subway?” she repeats, a little unsure.

You give her hand a reassuring squeeze, so excited for the trip. “Yes! Trust me, it’ll be fun.”

She lets out a soft sigh, still unconvinced, but seeing the sparkle in your eyes, she can’t help but smile. “Fine,” she agrees, stepping closer. Her arm wraps around your waist, fingers lingering on your hip. “But only because you seem so into it,” she murmurs, pressing herself against your side, her warmth seeping into you.

You chuckle, your hand sliding to her lower back, pulling her in even tighter. “I promise, you won’t regret it.” You lean in, brushing a light kiss against her cheek.

~~~

The subway car sways gently as it rumbles along, packed with commuters and tourists. You and Mina are squeezed together in a corner, her warmth pressed against your side. Around you, the chaos of the subway unfolds: someone is doing chin-ups on the railing, drawing a few amused glances, while others are asleep in their seats or lost in music blaring from their speakers.

Mina leans in closer, her voice a whisper. “They’re staring at us.”

You glance up and muffle a laugh. “That’s because you’re staring at them, baby. Your sunglasses are see-through.”

Her cheeks flush with a hint of embarrassment as she quickly looks away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Shit! I didn’t mean to,” she hushes.

You give another glance at the two people across from you and something catches your eye. You squint and notice keychains with photocards. And that’s… Nayeon’s face?

"Onces…" you whisper to yourself, holding on to Mina’s hand tighter.

Just before you can tell Mina that they’re fans, she gasps and points at the window of the doors. You smile, enchanted by her reaction. She’s so cute as she admires the view of the city through the subway doors, as you pass over the Brooklyn Bridge. The contrast from the underground darkness to the stunning sunset hovering over the skyline is breathtaking.

"Baby, look! It’s beautiful!" She exclaims, hand over her mouth as she shakes you a little.

You sigh and nod, pushing your worries away. "It’s very pretty."

~~~

Later, you find yourselves sitting on a bench at Brooklyn Bridge Park, the quiet hum of the city settling around you like a soft blanket. The lights from the skyscrapers flicker in the distance, casting reflections on the calm waters.

Mina sits close, but you can sense something’s off. She’s fidgeting with her hands, her fingers twisting together in a nervous rhythm. You glance at her, about to ask what’s on her mind, but before you can speak, she breaks the silence.

“Do you think we’d be happier in another life? A normal one?”

You frown, confused. “What?”

She hesitates for a second, looking down at her hands before continuing. “I just… I wonder what it’d be like to live a normal life. Not an idol. No eyes on us all the time.” Her voice softens, tinged with a sadness you rarely hear. “I knew those people in the subway recognized me. I could see it in their faces. And I saw how you tensed up, too.”

You shift uncomfortably, realizing she had noticed your own worry.

She sighs, her gaze drifting out over the city. “I just wonder if things would be easier, better, without the spotlight. Without everyone always watching.”

You stay quiet for a moment, letting her words sink in as the city hums in the background. The weight of what she’s feeling lingers between you, heavy and familiar. You reach over and gently take her fidgeting hands in yours, giving them a soft squeeze.

“Mina,” you say quietly, your voice steady, “I know it’s hard. Sometimes it feels like the whole world is watching. But I don’t think another life would make us happier.”

She turns her head slightly, her eyes searching yours, but you continue before she can say anything.

“You’ve worked so hard to get where you are, and yeah, it comes with all this pressure, but it also brought so much joy. To you, to your fans, and to me.” You offer her a small smile. “You’re not just an idol. You’re you. And even though people recognize you, that doesn’t mean you can’t find peace or moments like this.”

Her expression softens, though the hint of doubt still lingers in her eyes.

“I know it’s not easy,” you continue, brushing a thumb across her hand, “but I wouldn’t trade this life with you for anything.”

Mina blinks, her eyes glassy as she bites her lip. She leans in, resting her head on your shoulder, her breath steadying. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispers.

“You’ll never have to find out,” you reply, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “We’ve got each other. And no matter what, we’ll find our own kind of normal.”

I love you so much.

Mina squeezes your hand back, her fidgeting finally stopping as the tension melts away.

After a few more moments of peace, you nudge her gently. “Pizza?”

She lifts her head, blinking up at you before a small laugh escapes her lips. “Yeah,” she says softly, a smile finally breaking through. “Pizza sounds perfect.”

“And we’re definitely trying pineapple on it this time,” you add with a grin.

She scrunches her nose, groaning playfully. “Ugh, yuck… Fine, baby. But only because it’s you.”

"Yes! NYC baby!"

[buckets-and-trees]

Mob Bucky walking into the kitchen and picking you up to carry you out to the bedroom when you spent whole day cooking. You argue that you still need to bake two pies and make a salad, or something, but Bucky doesn't care.

"You spent the past two days on your feet. Now you're gonna spend the next twenty four hours on your back. Maybe on hands and knees, if I feel like it."

Hahahaha! Because we WOULD. But it's our chef heart!

Collection: Devour Title: CUSTARD Characters/Pairings: Mob Boss!Bucky x female!Chef!Reader Word Count: 687

Content Warnings: referenced smut (vaginal penetration/fucking, oral: female receiving), mob boss Bucky

Logistical Notes: Takes place after the series (shh, I know I'm still working on the final chapter). Prompt from the ask in bold italics, and notching a Naughty prompt from @the-slumberparty's Naughty or Nice challenge in plain bold.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

James was calling your name, but you didn’t hear him until he was in the kitchen with you.

“What the hell are you doing?”

You didn’t register the dangerous chill in his tone either, too busy skimming your fingers back over the recipe you were studying, frowning back at the mixture in the metal bowl whipping up in front of you.

“Mmm,” you hummed, completely focused on your work, “will you taste this?” You reached for one of the small spoons in a jar on the counter, dipped it into the bowl, and held it out for your mob boss.

He crossed the kitchen and was at your side in an instant. You only looked his way briefly enough to thrust the spoon into his mouth just as he opened it to speak again. You reached for another spoon to taste the custard’s current status for yourself.

“It definitely needs the nutmeg,” you murmured, wondering why the recipe you were referencing didn’t have any listed.

“You definitely need to be out of this kitchen!” James ordered.

You whipped your head back to glare at him. “I promised I would bring pie to the brunch, James.”

“And you’ve already made one.”

“But I didn’t make that pie for the brunch! It’s the backup pecan pie, and everyone deserves to have pie that was intended for the brunch. Pecan pie is not a proper brunch pie,” you argued. “I really should make a fruit pie to go along with this buttermilk pie, too,” you added for yourself, tone dropping back to your concentrated cooking tone.

“No! I forbid it!”

“You forbid it?”

“Yes, I forbid it! Against my better judgement, I tolerated you cooking the holiday meal with our families, but you spent the past two days on your feet when you’re supposed to be off, chef.”

He pulled the spoon out of your right hand and the spatula out of your left, flung them onto the counter, and flung you over his shoulder.

“James Buchanan Barnes!”

He didn’t speak as he walked you out of the kitchen and down the hallway. You squirmed a bit – knowing with all his strength there was no way he would let you fall, but also wanting to protest over being dragged away from your task.

He tossed you unceremoniously onto the bed and was on you immediately.

His large frame trapped you beneath him, though you tried to squirm away. He took each of your hands and pinned them in one of his above your head, while his other hand grabbed your jaw and angled your face for him to perfectly capture your lips in a kiss. He forced his tongue against yours, and immediately you could taste the sweetness of the custard still lingering in his mouth. He kissed you until you stopped struggling, softening beneath him. He released your hands, and you wound one around his neck and the other through his hair. His free hand didn’t stay free for even a second before it was palming your breast through your shirt, and you moaned.

Finally, he broke of the kiss, but only moving his head back a fraction of an inch.

“Damn you,” you breathed against his lips, but you knew from the look in his eyes that he knew he’d demanded and earned your utter and complete surrender.

“You’re going to spend the next twenty-four hours on your back,” he said. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then drew the heat along your jaw and down your neck. The desire in your core was fully ablaze, and you could feel how wet you were already growing between your thighs.

He nipped at your collarbone, and you gasped.

“Maybe on hands and knees if I feel like it,” he added as he ripped the front of your shirt open.

The audacity of this man! you thought while you could still think.

An audacity that you gladly put up with until well after midnight as he had you cumming more than once on his cock, then woke up to first thing with his head between your thighs.

I PROMISE ONE DAY I WILL FINISH THE FINAL CHAPTER, I JUST CAN'T HELP IT THAT PEOPLE KEEP SENDING FANTASTICALLY INSPIRATIONAL ASKS THAT TURN INTO THESE LITTLE ADDITIONAL SCENES FOR THEIR FUTURE!

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[choism]

Shameless | c.s

san solo, choi san

Genre: canon compliant, smut

Words: 1.8k

Summary: A month of sexual frustration and a pair of sweatpants can really bring out the animal in someone. In this case, that someone is San.

Warnings: Smut, masturbation, pillow humping, implied sexual tension, implied mxm pining, inappropriate use of a plushie, plushophilia, poor mokoko..., san masturbates basically

A/N: This is a request done for my beloved @kitten4sannie, ily bestie. It is also HEAVILY inspired by my beloved @parmesannie's fic on ao3 called Bring Me To Ruin. I say heavily, it's mostly the plushie part but we ball. I hope you enjoy! Cross posted to ao3! Will probably have a second part from Wooyoung's POV and end up becoming a woosan fic, we shall see...

The sound of shoes squeaking, music blaring, and people panting fills the practice room late at night..

San and Wooyoung had decided to do a last minute, late night practice session before their first comeback show for promotions. The choreo isn’t difficult by any means, but they felt like they had to show off more this comeback, hence why they are sweating their asses off at nearly eleven at night. The sound of their title track plays in the background as they move around fluidly, sweat dripping off their bodies and onto their shirts as they work hard to perfect every single move.

They finish up the chorus and Wooyoung moves to the computer to pause the music, “Wanna go again or take a small break, you look frustrated.” He says to San, jutting out his hip and putting all his weight onto that side, taking a swig from his water bottle as if he’s trying to seduce someone. San had been furrowing his eyebrows so hard Wooyoung thought they would fall off, or fly away.

“Yeah a break is fine, sorry.” San mutters and plops over to where his bag is, taking out his water and gulping it down furiously. San wipes the beads of water that dribble down his chin and Wooyoung’s eyes linger a bit too long until he snaps back into reality.

“What’s got your panties in a twist? Is it your part during the bridge? I think you look fine.” Wooyoung says trying to comfort his best friend even though he isn’t sure what’s bugging him. San lets out a huff and wriggles his hips a bit, probably just trying to adjust or get comfortable, Wooyoung assumes.

He takes another chug of his water before answering, “Nothing, I just think I’m tired all of a sudden and it’s getting to me, we can go another round.” Wooyoung quirks an eyebrow suspiciously but just mutters an ‘alright’ before restarting the part they had been working on. Both of them go and stand back in front of the wall mirror and wait for the counts to come so they can get their respective moves down.

San had only been slightly lying to Wooyoung about why he felt so frustrated. Yes, he is tired. They have been practicing non stop for this comeback and this final session is doing him in a bit, but it’s not the main reason. 

The main reason is that San is wearing sweatpants.

Soft, comfortable, loose gray sweatpants.

‘What’s so frustrating about sweatpants?’ You may be wondering. Well it’s not just the sweatpants, he isn’t wearing any underwear either, which means he can feel the delicate and soft material rub against his soft cock, slightly springing it to life with each tight pull of his pants when he moves his legs. San hates underwear, they are uncomfortable and restricting, but he also loves sweatpants, so comfortable and freeing.

And sometimes, when he combines wearing sweatpants, with no underwear, he forgets just how pleasurable it makes him feel. This feeling, plus having not been able to jerk off in so long is really getting to him, clearly. They have been so preoccupied with promotions for this comeback that he hasn’t been able to properly touch himself in about a month, which is keeping him incredibly horny and frustrated. Sure he could have had time to rub one out if he hadn’t told Wooyoung he would practice with him, but he couldn’t say no to Wooyoung. Maybe this was a bad idea.

With each move he can feel the material move and strain against his now semi hard cock, when he was sitting on the floor earlier he tried to get a bit of relief by wriggling around a bit, but it just made his situation worse, and also made Wooyoung shoot him a weird look. He just needs to get off so bad, he needs it and it’s now clouding his brain. Clouding his brain so much that Wooyoung has to restart their part over, and over, and over.

“Alright maybe we should head to bed, you clearly aren’t focusing very well and you need sleep.” Wooyoung saunters back over to the computer once again to stop the music and San takes a second to catch his breath before responding.

“I’m sorry Youngie, I’m sure we’ll do great tomorrow anyway.” Wooyoung agrees and pats his back, shooting him a million dollar smile that shows he cares for the other man and his health more than some silly practice session. San sends back a more pained smile, but a smile nonetheless, and they head back to the new dorms. 

***

San swears he’s never felt more relieved at having his own room before. As soon as they entered the apartment building San stormed off to his room, a disgruntled Jongho murmuring to Wooyoung, “What’s his deal?” And the other man shrugs in return.

The moment San is in his room he locks the door and looks into his full length mirror. His cock is very visibly hard against his sweats and there’s even a small stain of precum where his tip pushes against the soft material. “Fuck…” He whispers and hopes Wooyoung hadn’t noticed such an embarrassing thing. San immediately gets to work, rubbing his cock through his pants, the delicate material rubbing along the head of his dick making his belly swell with arousal. He sits on the ground and fucks up into his palm, trying to gain as much friction against the material as he can but it’s no longer enough, he wants, no, he needs more.

Hastily he clambers onto his bed and rids himself of his shirt, shoes and socks, his torso still sweaty from his practice session and his chest gleaming, nipples hardened. San takes a pillow from the head of his bed and places it underneath him. He finds an angle that works and lines himself onto it, shallowly thrusting onto the pillow to feel more friction. The front of his sweats are practically soaked, precum leaking all over them. He moans and grunts as he chases the feeling, the material of his sweats pulling forward along his cock with every grind onto the pillow, and the pillow adding a needed to pressure onto his longing cock.

It’s still not enough to get him anywhere, all it does is fill his belly with a small fire, but it doesn’t blaze to anything else. He needs more, he’s so desperate, he needs anything. Through his haze he looks around his bed to see if anything else will satisfy his needs until his eyes land on it, and he immediately has second thoughts.

His sweet, innocent mokoko plushie is right in his line of vision. It’s right there, beckoning him to use it. The small opening between where it’s holding a heart and it’s chest is perfect, a perfect spot to fuck into. Wait. No. He can’t fuck his plushies. He couldn’t dare soil his precious, special edition mokoko plushie….Could he? 

He could.

In record time he finally peels off his sweatpants, his angry, throbbing cock springing out and hitting his stomach with a small slap sound. He discards the pillow underneath him onto the floor, it needs to be washed anyway, and with one last regretful look he turns back to his mokoko plushie and grabs it. “I’m so sorry Mokoko, I’ll make it up to you later.” He whispers and switches positions. He flips onto his side and props himself up onto his remaining pillows with his arm, and lines the plushies opening with his leaking cock. He says one final prayer before sliding his cock into the opening and he lets out the most groundbreaking moan he's ever moaned. It feels perfect. Nothing has felt so good before. Well, that’s debatable, but at this moment, after not having jerked off in nearly a month, the feeling could only compare to heaven itself.

He nearly comes right then and there, but he takes a second to compose himself. The soft, velvety material of the plushie brushes along the shaft of his cock so well, and while humble, he knows he’s well endowed and is reminded when the tip of his cock pushes into where mokoko’s mouth is. It’s kind of fucked up, but that’s just how the cards fall he guesses.

After gathering his bearings, he slowly starts to fuck into the plush, his lips falling into an ‘O’ shape at the feeling. He cants his hips up, making sure to appreciate every single detail of the way his cock feels fucking into the tight space, moans slipping from his mouth everytime the head of his cock pushes into the plush. San’s cock twitches with pleasure as he picks up his pace and while closer than ever it’s still not enough. The material is great but now it’s starting to rub. He needs lube.

Briefly, he gets up to reach into his nightstand for his lube and generously squirts some into his hand, warming it up and slicking up his cock soon after. He feels so bad, he’s about to ruin one of his favorite plushies, but his horniness is overtaking his sense of logic. He can just wash it after…right?

Removing the thoughts from his head, he switches positions, now laying the plushie underneath his hips so he can fuck into the plushie from the top. He aligns his cock once again, and slides into the opening once more. He nearly moans unbelievably loud but stops himself when he hears someone walk past his room. Once he thinks they’ve left he continues, fucking into the plushie again and, fuck, does it feel better than ever. He lets out small grunts and groans as he fucks into the opening harshly, feeling his orgasm finally building, and boy is it building fast. San has been practically edging himself this entire time, so it’s no surprise that once he finally figured out what he needed, he comes quickly. Three more thrust and he bites down on his lip to suppress his moans as he cums all over the plush, disgustingly coating its face and god there’s so much cum. It’s literally seeping into the material once he’s finished, and the ropes went so far some even landed on his sheets above where the plushie was, he guesses he really, really needed this. 

After coming down from his high, he quickly realizes what he had just done. He ruined his favorite, one of a kind plushie. Jesus what has he done, how will he clean it, can he clean it? Should he throw it away? As he’s trying to come up with a solution to save his poor, poor mokoko he hears a knock at the door.

“Hey Sannie, can I come in?”

Fuck, It’s Wooyoung.

© Choism 2023. do not repost or translate.

[cloudcountry]

the kissing experiment

Genre/Tropes: Practice kissing?

Summary: The Leech brothers request something of you. Won't you help them learn what kissing is?

Author's Comments: hi this is an arospec ace person writing about people kissing. it was a fun little (AWKWARD) experiment so the title also applies to me!!

~~~~~

There was nothing you could think of that would have prompted the Leech brothers to ask this of you. Maybe they found out about your attraction to the both of them, or maybe they were just using you as a silly little plaything to experiment on until they got bored. Maybe it was both. Whatever led them to your dorm this late in the afternoon didn’t matter now, as they were standing right there on your porch, awaiting your response to their proposition like a hunter that had just cornered their prey. A chill went down your spine as they continued to stare, lips stretched into wide grins that couldn’t have looked more sketchy if they tried.

“You...want to experiment with kissing?” you ask, flabbergasted at the unexpected question, “Why in Twisted Wonderland would you ask that? And to me?”

“Come onnnn, Shrimpy. It’s a yes or no question.” Floyd giggles, tongue poking out from between his teeth, “We don’t have all afternoon. you know.”

“Indeed, Floyd is right. It would be a shame if we came all the way here with our humble request only to receive an unsatisfactory answer.” Jade sighs, eyes sharp as his expression fills with mock sadness.

“I never said no.” you mumble, eyes darting to an uninteresting crack in the floorboards to avoid looking at either of them, “I was just asking my own questions.”

“Oh?” Jade hums, index finger pushing your chin upwards until you make eye contact with him again, “I take it that means you’re interested?”

“Maybe I am.” you shoot back, the desperate urge to catch them off guard after coming to you with this ridiculous proposal flaring up.

It works. Floyd cackles beside his brother, eyes narrowing as he stalks closer. Jade looks surprised for a brief moment before chuckling politely, letting you go with a gentle brush of his thumb against your cheek.

“Well Little Pearl, it’s only natural to seek out the object of one’s curiosity, is it not?” Jade coos in a voice as soft as a fuzzy, comforting blanket, “We only want a bit of your time. Won’t you offer us the pleasure of practicing land dwelling affection?”

“Yeah Shrimpy! Don't be mean.” Floyd snickers, shoving his face closer to yours and his brother out of the way in the process.

“Besides...we know you’re interested.” Jade chuckles, taking your hand as if it was made of glass, “We’ve seen the glances you send our way. We’ve seen you staring at the Lounge. You’re hardly sneaky, Little Pearl.”

“And that’s why Shrimpy got caaaught!” Floyd laughs, nuzzling your cheek as his arms snaked around your waist.

“So what do you say?” Jade leans closer, thumb stroking the back of your hand.

“There’s no need to guilt trip.” you lean back, the proximity of the Leech brothers almost suffocating, “You already know my answer.”

“Oh, but we don’t. You could turn us away and break our little hearts!” Floyd quips, pulling away from you just to cross his arms and pout.

Finally free of Floyd’s grip, you back up a bit. They allow you a bit of space, but still stand tall on your front porch, an immovable wall. Shaking your head, you sigh deeply. It’s almost exhausting when they decide to play these games, teasing you as if they aren’t painfully aware of your interest in them.

“If it’s kissing you want, it’s kissing you’ll get.” you say, beckoning Floyd closer.

He bounces right over, looking like a puppy about to receive a treat. You cup his face gently with your hands, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his forehead. The touch lingers for a few beats as the tension from Floyd’s shoulder melts away, his wound up attitude ebbing away like the tides of the Coral Sea. The second you pull away his wide eyes crinkle at the corners, all of the excited energy he had before rushing back into his body.

“I got a kiss from Shrimpy!” Floyd cackles, brushing the spot you kissed with his gloved fingers. His sharp teeth are on display as he sticks his tongue out at Jade, wrapping his other arm tightly around your waist again.

“Floyd, be nice.” you sigh, coaxing Jade closer by opening your arms, “Jade, c’mere.”

“Oh? Feeling bold, are we?” Jade coos, swooping into your arms without hesitation.

Instead of answering, you hook your finger under his tie and pull him closer. His body thumps against yours, and if it weren’t for the grip Floyd had on your waist, you’re sure you would have fallen over. Jade looks surprised at how quickly you’d yanked him, and you tried not to let his shock make you too smug. They were known to turn things on people just when they had the advantage (and you knew that better than most people.)

“Can I kiss you here?” you ask, swiping a thumb across his bottom lip.

“By all means.” Jade sighs, leaning into your touch.

You slot your lips against his almost immediately, grabbing Jade’s shoulder with your free hand. His hands find their place on your waist, and he kisses you back with a force that’s powerful, yet gentle. You can vaguely hear Floyd whining beside you, his incessant tugging on your shirt doing nothing to dispel the haze you find yourself in. Jade’s lips are soft—softer than the gentle beams of sunlight caressing your face as the day slips into darkness.

He’s warmer than them, too.

With a shuddering gasp, the two of you part. Eyes wide and lips plump from the kiss, you slowly let your finger slip away from his tie. Jade chuckles at your state, lifting your hand to his lips, and you can do nothing but watch as he presses his lips to the skin while staring holes into you.

“Thank you for that experience, Little Pearl.” he murmurs, kiss-bruised lips still brushing delicately against your skin, “It was most delightful.”

“Heyyy, Shrimpy! I said, don’t forget about me!” Floyd huffs, yanking you more and more insistently towards him, “I want another kiss!”

“If Floyd gets another, I would appreciate another one as well.” Jade smiles, tilting his head as you turn your attention to his brother.

“Yes, yes, sure.” you say, attempting to placate them.

Except it doesn’t work entirely, because Floyd is still grumbling and tugging. You would rather not have him tumble into a bad mood, so you turn to him and yank him into you by the undone tie, just like you did with his brother.

Floyd is far more all consuming, his teeth clinking painfully against yours. You wince but he doesn’t get softer, instead opting to giggle and press his hands into your waist. With the way he holds you and kisses you longer and longer and longer, you’d almost think he was jealous of Jade for taking so much time with you. The thought makes you want to roll your eyes, but you’re unable to spend much more time in your own head as his nails dig into your side and you’re thrown back into reality. That reality being that one of his hands has found its way to your hair, his nails scratching the back of hand in just the right way and for once you actually find yourself relaxing. It’s a beautiful juxtaposition that leaves you smiling against Floyd’s chapped lips.

You pull away with a soft pat on his shoulder and a smile. He smiles back, tongue poking out from between the rows of sharp teeth, but for once you aren’t on edge. Floyd looks so excited, his expression reminding you of the look he has when he dances.

“That was nice, Shrimpy.” Floyd laughs, running his tongue along his teeth, “Gimme another one.”

“Patience, Floyd.” Jade murmurs, whisking you away from his brother, “It’s my turn.”

“No fair! But I want another kiss!” Floyd pouts, reaching to snatch you away.

You sigh, shaking your head at the sibling rivalry unfolding around you.

Oh dear, what have you done?

[domripley]

(If You Think I’m Pretty) Lay Your Hands on Me

pairing: lottie matthews x reader

warnings: all characters are 18+, dom lottie, enthusiastic consent, face slapping, gagging, finger sucking, tear licking, degradation, body writing, begging, aftercare, dacryphilia.

summary: lottie loves to make you cry.

kinktober 23/24: dacryphilia

word count: 1k

gif credit | title credit: if u think i’m pretty - artemas

edited by my lovely girlfriend @specialinterestshows 🥰

“Are you sure you want this?” Lottie questioned, circling around you. “I need you to make sure that you really want this.”

You took a deep breath, “Lot, we’ve been over this a million times. I want this just as much as you do.”

You fought back the smirk that was forming when you heard her breath hitch. Your girlfriend was so fucking hot and it was true - you wanted this just as much as Lottie, maybe even more. Lottie stopped circling around you, standing in front of you as she took a hold of your chin.

“Safewords and what they mean?” Lottie asked.

“Green for ‘I’m okay and you can continue.’, yellow for ‘slow down, I need a break’, and red for ‘stop, we’re done’,” you said, looking up at Lottie who had a soft smile on her face.

“Good girl,” she praised, “You know I love you more than anything, right?”

You nodded, “I do, Lot. I love you more than anything too.”

Lottie leaned down, giving you a kiss on your forehead. “Clothes off now,” she instructed, turning to grab a few things off the table. “Are you comfortable or do you need another pillow?”

“I- I’m good, Lot,” you said, throwing your clothes to the other side of the room.

“Good,” she said, turning back to face you with a sharpie in her hand. “You let me know if you need another, understood?”

You nodded, as she got closer to you. You watched as she opened the sharpie up before leaning down and writing something on your forehead “You’re a pathetic slut, you know that?” she laughed, pulling away after she was done writing on your forehead.

You nodded, “Yes, Mommy.”

Lottie tapped your cheek with the hand that wasn’t holding the shoulder, “You’re also a disgusting, pathetic whore who gets off on getting treated like this, aren’t you?”

You nodded again, but Lottie slapped you hard across the face. “Say it out loud.”

“Yes, Mommy, I am.”

Lottie slapped you again, “What are you?”

You licked your lips, “I’m a disgusting, pathetic whore who gets off on getting treated like this.”

Lottie smiled softly, writing on your collar bone. “There, now everyone will know that you’re pathetic,” she hummed, writing on your other collarbone. “And everyone will also know that you’re disgusting.”

Lottie began writing all over your chest and stomach, making comments about you as she did it. Finally, dropping the sharpie, Lottie grabbed your chin. She held you in place as she bent down, bringing her free hand to your mouth. She tapped your mouth with two fingers, signaling for you to part your lips and as soon as you did, she shoved them into your mouth.

“Take them,” was all she said, pushing them all the way in the back of your throat.

You gagged as your eyes started to water, earning a kiss to your nose from Lottie. “You’re so pretty when you cry,” Lottie hummed, watching as your tears begin to fall. Running her tongue against your cheek, stopping it just below your eye.

Lottie hummed before going back to fucking your mouth with her fingers. You gagged some more, trying your best to pull away, but Lottie held you in place.

“Don’t try to run from my fingers, whore,” Lottie snapped, pushing her fingers into your mouth deeper again. She held them in place as you gagged a few more times before removing them from your mouth.

Lottie stood up straight again, slapping you once more, and when you started to cry, her face softened. “Color, baby?” she asked, caressing your cheek.

“Green, Mommy,” you whimpered.

Lottie nodded, fixing her hard gaze upon you. “Do you think you deserve to come tonight, pretty girl?” she asked, her voice still soft from checking in.

You nodded, “Yes, Mommy.”

Lottie said nothing, getting down on her knees so she could reach your pussy easier. “God, this cunt is so fucking wet,” Lottie smirked, looking at all the words she wrote all over your body. “You really get off on Mommy treating you so badly, huh?”

You nodded as she slipped two fingers into your pussy, you tried your best to keep your eyes open and on her. Suddenly, she pulled her fingers out, smirking at you as she got up.

“You’re not coming tonight,” Lottie smirked.

Lottie came back to you with a wet washcloth and some water. “Good thing I bought some body writing markers, huh?” you smiled at her, nodding as she gently rubbed the marker off your forehead.

“Unfortunately, all of it isn’t going to come off right away, but thankfully we have the weekend to ourselves,” Lottie smiled, kissing your cheek. “I’m so, so proud of you, baby girl. Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head, “No, Lot, you didn’t.”

Lottie nodded, “Let’s get you up and cleaned up. Do you want to order food tonight?”

You nod as she helped you to your feet - she led you to the bed, having you sit on the edge as she went into the bathroom. Lottie came back out with a clean, wet washcloth. “Spread your legs for me, baby. Gonna clean your thighs up,” Lottie informed you. When you nodded, she slowly rubbed the washcloth against your thighs, causing you to whimper when it brushed against your pussy.

“You okay?” Lottie asked, pausing her movements to look you in the eye.

“I- I’m okay, it’s just… you didn’t let me come is all…” you trailed off, looking away from her in embarrassment.

Lottie chuckled, running her tongue against her bottom lip. “You’re right I didn’t,” she agreed, continuing to clean up your thighs.

You whimpered, “Please just… just once?”

Lottie sighed, looking at how visibly wet you were. She contemplated and although she hadn’t planned on making you come in this scene, it was definitely tempting.

“Hm…” Lottie trailed off, raking her eyes up your body. “You did take what I gave you so fucking good…”

You nodded, “Yes, Mommy, I did!”

Lottie sighed, throwing the washcloth on the floor. She ran her fingertips up your thighs softly, but dragged her nails down them, causing you to cry out.

“No baby, Mommy isn’t going to make you come tonight,” she pouted with faux sympathy. “Now let’s get you all comfy before I order us some food.”

[ms-snape]

Hii, I‘d love to request an younger Severus Story, where he gets set up on a blind date by Lucius and Narcissa to get his mind off of Lily

The date turns out to be one of Narcissas friends who he sits besides in one of his classes, who he always has found very interesting and pretty

Title: Blind Date

Warning: None

Words Count: 2800+

Masterlist

---

Severus Snape was not one to believe in the whimsicalities of fate. But then, there were days when he couldn't help but wonder if life had a funny way of playing with him. He had always considered himself a man of logic, someone who would not be swayed by frivolous emotions. And yet, there he was, daydreaming about Lily Evans in the middle of a rather important Potions lesson, staring out the window instead of focusing on the bubbling cauldron in front of him.

Lily, with her bright red hair and those emerald eyes that sparkled with warmth and kindness, had been his obsession since they first met at the age of nine. He was certain she'd never look at him the way he looked at her—how could she? He was just Severus Snape, the shy, awkward, slightly odd boy with a dark reputation, while she was the shining star, surrounded by friends who adored her.

But there was someone else in his Potions class who always caught his eye, though he tried to ignore it. Y/N. She wasn’t like Lily—no, Y/N had a quiet elegance about her, with a mysterious air that Severus found fascinating. Her long hair, dark as a raven’s wing, framed her face perfectly, and she always seemed lost in thought, as if she were pondering something far more important than whatever they were learning. She was pretty, yes, but she was also clever, independent, and a touch distant—qualities that Severus admired but also didn’t know how to approach.

He had never spoken to her, never had the courage to cross that boundary. Instead, he observed her from the corner of his eye, day after day. She was a Slytherin, though not in the same social circle as him but still a close friend to Narcissa Black. She was more quiet, more reserved, more… unlike the rest of the Slytherins who crowded the common room, loudly boasting about their latest exploits or schemes.

But then there was Lily, always at the forefront of his mind. Always. And that was the problem. Severus could never seem to break free of his obsession with her, and no matter how much he tried, it felt as though his heart would always belong to Lily Evans.

At least, until one afternoon, when the weight of his unrequited love for Lily was finally too much for some of his friends to bear.

"Severus," Lucius Malfoy said, his voice smooth as ever, leaning against the doorframe of their shared Potions classroom, "you've got to stop this nonsense with Evans."

Severus, who had been staring at the delicate glass vials lined up on the desk before him, stiffened at the sound of his name. Lucius always seemed to know when he was lost in his thoughts. Narcissa, standing beside him, was looking at Severus with an almost exasperated expression.

"She's never going to notice you, Severus," Narcissa added, her voice cool but tinged with concern. "We need to do something about it. You're wasting away."

Severus opened his mouth to protest, but Lucius cut him off.

"Don't bother," Lucius said with a sly grin. "We’ve already come up with a solution."

Before Severus could ask what that solution was, Narcissa flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder and smiled slyly.

"We’ve set you up on a date."

"A date?" Severus blinked, incredulous. "With who?"

Narcissa’s smile widened. "With one of my friends. I think you'll find her… quite interesting."

Severus didn’t have time to argue. Lucius was already pulling out a small piece of parchment with details scribbled hastily on it.

"It’s at Madam Pudifoot's Tea Shop," Lucius said. "Tomorrow. Seven o’clock. Don’t worry, we’ve arranged everything."

Severus’ stomach tightened in a mixture of anxiety and confusion. He didn’t want this. He didn’t need it. But as Narcissa’s gaze bore into him, he realized that he had little choice in the matter.

The next day, Severus found himself pacing outside the entrance to Madam Pudifoot’s, the quaint and overly pink tea shop that had somehow become popular among Hogwarts students, despite its tendency to give him a headache just by looking at it. He felt utterly out of place, his black robes stark against the pastel-colored walls and frilly tablecloths.

When he walked in, a bell tinkled above the door, and the smell of lavender tea and scones wafted through the air. Severus couldn’t help but feel a little ridiculous as he stood in the doorway, searching for the person he was supposed to meet. He half-hoped to see Lily waiting for him, but of course, that was impossible. This was a blind date, arranged by Narcissa, and he had no idea who he was supposed to be meeting.

Then, as if from nowhere, a soft, melodic voice caught his attention.

"Severus? Are you… Severus Snape?"

He turned, and there she was. Y/N.

Her long dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her green dress seemed to shimmer in the soft lighting of the shop. Her smile was warm, but there was a nervous edge to it, just like the way he was feeling.

"Y/N?" he asked, almost too quietly. "What are you doing here?"

She tilted her head, her lips curling into a small, amused grin. "It seems that Narcissa thought it would be fun to set us up." She raised an eyebrow. "I’m assuming you're as surprised as I am."

Severus felt his heart skip a beat. He hadn’t been expecting this. He had been bracing himself for an awkward encounter with someone else entirely, but here was Y/N—the very person he had admired from afar, sitting across from him at a small table, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"I—" Severus stopped himself, unsure of what to say. "I didn’t know it was you."

"Neither did I," she admitted with a soft laugh. "But I suppose we’re here now, so we might as well enjoy it."

They sat in a slightly awkward silence for a moment before the waitress arrived, offering them menus. Severus found himself staring at the menu, but he wasn’t really seeing it. His mind was spinning. Y/N was here. On a date. With him. Not Lily. Y/N.

"So," Y/N said after a moment, breaking the silence, "what have you been up to, Severus? I don’t think we’ve ever really had a proper conversation before."

It was true. They hadn’t. And Severus found himself oddly relieved. This was a blank slate, a chance to get to know her, not as the distant girl in his Potions class, but as someone who might actually become… more.

"I—well, I've been working on my Potions," Severus said, then immediately regretted it. "You know, trying to perfect a few of them."

Y/N smiled, a knowing look in her eyes. "I’ve always thought you were one of the best in Potions," she said, and Severus felt a heat rise in his cheeks. "But you’re also a bit of a mystery, Severus. Why is that?"

His heart pounded a little faster at the question. It was so open, so direct. There was something in her eyes—an understanding, maybe? Or a curiosity?

"I suppose… I’m not very good at opening up to people," Severus confessed, his voice quieter now. "I’ve never really been one for… socializing."

Y/N nodded, her expression thoughtful. "I understand. I’m not exactly the most social person either." She paused. "But sometimes it’s nice to have someone to talk to, don’t you think?"

Severus found himself nodding, but he was still unsure. Was this really happening? Was he really sitting here, with Y/N? It felt almost surreal.

The evening passed quickly, and to Severus’ surprise, he found himself genuinely enjoying the conversation. They talked about everything and nothing—Potions, of course, but also books, the latest gossip at Hogwarts, and their shared experiences as Slytherins in a school that often seemed to push them to the sidelines. By the time they finished their tea and dessert, Severus realized something he hadn’t expected: he was no longer thinking about Lily.

Instead, he was thinking about Y/N.

They walked out of the tea shop together, and Severus felt a sense of peace he hadn’t known in a long time. The night air was cool against his skin, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it felt oddly comforting.

"I… I’m glad Narcissa set this up," Severus said quietly, not looking at her but feeling her presence next to him, comforting and warm.

"Me too," Y/N agreed. "I think we make a good pair."

Severus couldn’t help but smile. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but he liked it.

Maybe, just maybe, fate had a hand in this after all.

Weeks had passed since that fateful evening at Madam Pudifoot’s. Severus found himself thinking about Y/N more often than he had ever thought about anything else. Their dates—yes, dates—had become a regular occurrence. After that first meeting, he had found that Y/N was a surprisingly easy person to be around. They’d spent time in quiet corners of the library, discussing their shared love for Potions and the art of brewing the most complicated of brews. They’d visited Hogsmeade together, strolling through the cobbled streets with nothing but the sound of the wind and their quiet laughter accompanying them.

Each date, each conversation, left Severus feeling more at ease. He never expected to enjoy spending time with anyone as much as he enjoyed being with her. For the first time in what felt like forever, he found himself genuinely looking forward to seeing someone—not just because she was a welcome distraction, but because she was someone who understood him in a way that few people ever had.

Y/N, for her part, seemed equally comfortable with him. The distance he’d once put between them, the awkwardness, had slowly vanished as the weeks passed. Her wit and intelligence matched his own, and they both found joy in the most mundane of activities, simply because they were in each other’s company.

It wasn’t just that she was pretty—though she was undeniably that—it was her quiet, thoughtful nature, the way she could sit with him for hours in companionable silence, or the way she would challenge him in discussions about magic, Potions, and life itself.

Severus had never believed in love at first sight. But he was beginning to wonder if there was something more than coincidence behind the way things were unfolding.

One afternoon, as Severus sat in the Slytherin common room, his mind lost in thoughts of Y/N, he was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Severus."

He looked up to see Lucius Malfoy standing there, a curious expression on his face. Narcissa was just behind him, her eyes gleaming with the same sort of interest that Severus had come to recognize in them when they were scheming.

"Lucius," Severus said, his voice a little guarded. He wasn’t exactly keen on being interrogated about his personal life, but given his friends' penchant for prying, he suspected that was exactly what was about to happen.

Narcissa took a seat next to him, her tone casual, but with a knowing edge. "We’ve been noticing something, Severus," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly in amusement. "You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Y/N lately."

Severus stiffened slightly, though he did his best to hide it. "I… I suppose we’ve gotten along well. What of it?"

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "I’m asking because it seems that you’ve… become rather fond of her." He let the words hang in the air, almost as if testing the waters.

Severus felt a knot form in his stomach. He didn’t want to admit it—not to Lucius, not to Narcissa—but it was true. He had become fond of Y/N. More than fond, if he was being honest with himself. His feelings for her had only grown stronger with each passing day. She was no longer just the girl he’d noticed from afar in Potions class—she was someone he genuinely cared about.

He opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure of how to respond.

Lucius, ever the opportunist, pressed further. "So, Severus, tell me. Is it serious between you two?"

Narcissa leaned in slightly, her expression softening as she spoke. "You’ve always been rather reserved with your emotions, Severus. But if it’s serious, you should be honest with yourself. And with her."

Severus’ heart was pounding in his chest. He hadn’t fully acknowledged it yet, not in the way Narcissa and Lucius seemed to want him to, but the question was inevitable. He had spent weeks with Y/N, sharing laughs and moments of genuine connection. He was feeling something, something deep and real.

"I—" Severus hesitated, his mind racing, "I think it might be."

Lucius grinned, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Well, there you go. I always knew you weren’t as hopeless as you let on."

Narcissa, ever the more calculating of the two, tilted her head thoughtfully. "You should talk to her about it, Severus. Don’t let this opportunity slip away." Her voice was calm, but there was a sincerity there that Severus hadn’t expected.

The next day, Severus found himself walking down to the courtyard where he and Y/N had agreed to meet. His thoughts were a jumbled mess. Lucius’ questions had brought everything into sharp focus: he did care for Y/N. More than care, he wanted to be with her. He hadn’t been sure of it at first—he’d been so consumed by his obsession with Lily, by his doubts and insecurities. But with Y/N, it felt different. She made him feel seen, understood in a way no one else had.

As he approached the spot where they had planned to meet, he saw her sitting by the fountain, her back to him, her long hair swaying gently in the breeze. The sight of her heartened him, but also left him feeling a bit anxious. He had no idea how she felt about him. Was she just enjoying their time together? Or had she begun to feel something more?

When she turned and saw him, a smile blossomed on her face, and Severus felt his anxiety melt away, just a little.

"Severus," she greeted, standing and brushing the grass from her robes. "You’re early today."

"I wasn’t sure if you’d be on time," Severus replied, his voice softer than usual. "But I’m glad you’re here."

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, as they often did, both of them unsure of what to say next. Then, Y/N spoke, her voice quieter than before.

"You’ve been distant lately," she said, her eyes searching his. "I can tell there’s something on your mind."

Severus took a deep breath. This was it. He couldn’t keep hiding behind his doubts. Not anymore.

"I’ve been thinking about us," he said, his voice steady but his heart racing. "And I realized something… I care about you, Y/N. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone."

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, but there was no fear in them, only curiosity and something else. Hope, maybe. Her lips parted slightly, as though she was about to say something, but Severus took a step closer, not wanting to wait any longer.

"I know I’ve been… hesitant," he continued. "But after everything we’ve shared, I can’t deny how I feel. You’re not just a distraction for me. You’re not just some pretty face. You make me feel things I didn’t know I could feel."

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind between them. Then Y/N stepped forward, closing the distance, her hands reaching for his.

"Severus," she whispered, her voice soft yet clear. "I’ve felt the same way. I didn’t know how to say it, but… I’m glad you did."

And in that moment, as if the entire world had aligned just for them, Severus felt his heart swell with emotion. Slowly, he leaned in, his breath hitching, and pressed his lips gently to hers.

It was tentative at first—neither of them sure how to navigate this new, delicate part of their relationship. But as the seconds passed, it became more natural, more real. The kiss deepened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Severus felt truly alive. All the confusion, the doubt, the years of loneliness—it all melted away in the warmth of Y/N’s kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, Severus kept his forehead resting against hers, his hands still holding hers.

"So," Y/N said softly, her smile shy but sincere, "does this mean we're… official?"

Severus smirked, his usual guarded expression slipping away in the face of her warmth. "I think it does."

And for the first time in years, Severus Snape felt like he had found something worth fighting for. Something more important than anything he had ever known.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of shared moments, laughter, and quiet companionship. Severus had never felt more certain about anything. Y/N was his, and he was hers. And in the quiet of the night, when the world seemed still and he allowed himself a rare moment of peace, Severus couldn’t help but think that perhaps, just perhaps, he had found something even more powerful than magic.

Love.

[onlyfreds]

Someday | E.M.

Title: Someday

Requested: Yes/No

Summary: A girl and an original, sounds like a fantasy, but nothing is impossible when it comes to love.

A/N: It's been a hot minute since I posted a fic, so hopefully this is half as decent as I hope it is and you guys like it

The story of a girl and her vampire: if any outsider were to hear the story, it would sound crazy, almost like some sort of fantasy.

Shutting the door of the taxi, you stepped out into the cobblestone streets and took a deep breath. 

“Finally.” You thought, having achieved your lifelong dream of moving to New Orleans. 

Lugging your suitcase behind you, you searched for the address of the place you’d be staying at. 

–

“And here is your room.” Cami, a friend from high school who’d you be staying with gestured to the guest room next to her own room.

“Thanks Cami. You’re the best!” You smiled, proceeding to give the girl a hug, “I promise I’ll move out the minute I find a more affordable apartment.” 

She laughed, “Nonsense, stay here as long as you like. Anyway, I have to go back to my shift at the bar now but when I close up, we can definitely go out for dinner.” 

“Sounds great! I can also help out at the bar if you want.” You offered. 

“Stop.” The blonde grinned, “You are my guest and you will do no such thing. Now go and unpack.”

“Fine. Fine.” You gave in with a playful eye roll.

–

“Does this place do deliveries? I don’t think I want to eat anywhere else ever again.” You took a sip of water making Cami laugh.

“I’m pretty sure they do.” She said as the waiter dropped off the bill.

While Cami was searching for her wallet in her bag, you pulled out some cash and hurriedly gave it to the waiter, “Take it before she finds hers.” 

Realizing what had just happened, Cami gave you a pointed look, “Y/N.” 

“Cami.” You mirrored her tone, giving her the same look, “It’s on me, I swear.”

“But-” She tried to protest. 

“Shh.” You interrupted, “You’re already practically giving me a place to stay, provided that I pay for my share for the water and electricity bills. Ever since I have arrived, you have been nothing but incredibly generous to me. Let me do this.” 

“Fine.” Cami gave in with a roll of her eyes, “But when you go to the bar, drinks are on me.” 

This made you smile, “Now who am I to turn down free drinks?” 

–

“Who are the Mikaelsons?” You asked after Cami had told you that you should come along to a party they were hosting that night. 

“They’re the most influential family in Orleans.” She said, ruffling through her closet in search of something to wear, “The Mikaelsons are practically like royalty.” 

You raised a brow in question, “So, they’re pretentious?”

“Not all of them.” Cami smiled, “Klaus is a little though, but the rest of them aren’t so.” 

Laughing, you said, “Can’t wait to meet them. I don’t have a dress though.” 

“There’s a boutique down the corner.” Cami said, “When can go take a look there if you want.” 

–

Cami sure wasn’t joking when she said that the Mikaelsons were like royalty. 

The compound you and Cami had just walked into was majestic and almost mansion-like. The lights that decorated the walls just seemed to make the place even bigger. 

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Cami said, noticing how awestruck and speechless you were.  

“First thought that came into my mind was ‘you’re joking’. But, after seeing this, I think it's not entirely impossible.” You said.

“Camille! Glad to see you could make it.” A deep and husky voice boomed from the corridor as the owner approached the two of you.

“Klaus.” Your friend smiled, “Nice to see you too.” 

“I see you’ve also brought a friend.” The man, or rather Klaus, mused before turning to you, “I’m sure that I’ve already been introduced by my entrance, so, may I know your name?” 

“I’m Y/N.” You smiled. 

“Niklaus.” A man in a suit came up next to Klaus, almost appearing out of thin air, “Are you causing someone an inconvenience again?”  

Klaus dramatically gasped, now turning his attention to the man next to him, “I’m offended at how you think I bother everyone.” 

“That seems to be the case, sometimes.” The man nods to Cami, “Camille.” 

He then turns to you, a small smile growing on his handsome face while he reaches for your hand and brushes his lips against your knuckles, “And may I be able to put a name to that beautiful face?” 

Giggling, you could feel the butterflies starting to stir, “I’m Y/N and you are?” 

“Elijah.” He answered.

“So, Y/N. May I have this dance?” Elijah asked, offering a hand to you.

Glancing over at Cami, she gave a nod along with a subtle wink.

“I would love to.” You grinned, taking his hand and he led you away from your friend.

That was where it all started, with two lonely hearts beating in the dark.

–

“Your company has been the best I’ve had in a while.” Elijah smiled as the two of you stopped in front of Cami’s house. Cami had disappeared with Klaus leaving you to fend for yourself.

“Glad to have been of service then.” You laughed.

“Hopefully, this isn’t the last time I’ll be catching any sight of your captivating presence.” He said. 

“I assure you, Elijah, you won’t be getting rid of me that easily.” You smiled.

The gentleman smiled as well, kissing along your knuckles the same way when you had first met earlier, “I’ll be counting on that.” 

–

“I’m home!” It’s been a month since your arrival to New Orleans, finally having signed a lease for your own apartment, the only downside was the fact that you couldn’t move there for another month.

“So, how was your date?” Cami came into the living room as you were kicking off your shoes. 

Rolling your eyes at her teasing, you retorted, “Cami, how many times do I have to tell you that it's’ not a date. Elijah and I just went to watch theater like friends do.”

“Yeah, friends do go to the theater but even a blind person could see how you and Elijah are a far cry from friends.” She said. 

You went to the kitchen to get some water, “Touche, I can literally say the same about you and Klaus.” 

Cami was immediately on your trail, “Klaus and I acknowledge our feelings. You and Elijah don’t. It seems like both of you have this intense fear of rejection. To be honest, the two of you would be a pretty amazing couple.” 

“Is my crush on him that obvious?” You asked, leaning against the door of the fridge.

“Even someone who doesn’t believe in the concept of love could see it.” She confirmed, throwing a teasing smile.

“Oh my-” You groaned, “Then this means that he knows as well.” 

Although Cami had been successful at holding back a laugh, a grin still appeared on her face as she fondly shook her head as a mother would, “You and him are the only people oblivious to each other’s feelings.” 

“Whatever.” You felt the heat starting to take over your face, “I’m going out, we’re out of milk.” 

“In the middle of the night?” Cami asked.

You started putting your shoes on, “No better time.” 

–

For the past half hour, you couldn’t stop thinking about what your friend had said, could Elijah possibly bear the same feelings for you?

Strangely, the city sounds and the gravel crunching under your feet didn’t distract you at all. But you couldn’t shake off the strange feeling you had, almost like your gut was telling you that something is…eerie. 

You could’ve sworn that someone had to be walking behind you but when you turned around, there was nothing but a gust of wind rattling the leaves.

Brushing it off as a figment of your imagination and the fact that it was almost midnight, you started on the way back home, how on earth did you think that a store would sell you some milk at this hour?

In an attempt to get rid of the chill that was running through your whole body, you tucked your hands into the pockets of your coat. 

Then, under a split second, you were suddenly thrown against the wall - feeling a bit dizzy from the impact. 

You kicked and tried to scratch the person but then the man holding you captive, grinned and flashed his fangs.

At first, you thought that you had gone mad. It was practically impossible for vampires to exist. Then the man’s eyes started to darken and the veins on his face became prominent as he said, “Guess I’m getting some dessert after all.” 

Nothing prepared you for this moment, in school, they never exactly taught what to do in case you run across a vampire (who also happened to not actually exist in the first place).

As the sharp points of the fangs inched closer, you braced yourself for the worst, hoping that you would jolt awake in your bed and find out that this entire thing was just some nightmare. 

The grip on your throat suddenly loosened as the man in front of you limply dropped to the ground.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” The husky voice of your savior pulled you out of your shock.

“Elijah?” If you thought that the prospect of vampires being real was enough of a surprise for a lifetime, wait till you are met with Elijah Mikaelson, seemingly wiping blood off his hands as a real heart lay discarded at his side while he asked if you were okay.

“Do you want me to walk you back to Cami’s?” He asked. 

“Did you just…” You started feeling dizzy, feeling completely overwhelmed with everything to be processed in the last few minutes, “pull his heart out?”

He was rendered speechless, not actually expecting that you would ask this. After a moment of silence, he answered cautiously, “Yes.” 

“H-how?” You asked, not really sure if you wanted to know the answer.

Elijah looked defeated as he offered a small smile, “Let me walk you back to Cami’s and I’ll explain everything once we get there.” 

In an attempt to lighten some of the tension, you asked, “Promise you won’t bite?” 

Elijah laughed, “Promise.” 

–

It’s been two weeks since you were told of the grand secret of New Orleans: that werewolves, witches and vampires not only roamed the streets but were also practically like royalty and the Mikaelsons happened to be called the “Originals” which are the very first vampires ever.

It’s also been two weeks since you had last seen Elijah Mikaelson. 

After doing everything, even dropping by the compound in desperate hopes that you would actually see him - it was almost like he was avoiding you.

Okay, he was actually avoiding you.

“Hello ‘Bekah.” You grinned as the blonde greeted you with a kiss to the cheek, ‘as the French do’. 

“This is exciting! We haven’t gone shopping in ages.” She asked with a mirroring smile, looping her arm around yours almost dragging you to the shopping center. 

–

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, did you and Elijah have a fight or something?” Rebekah asked out of the blue while browsing the dresses. 

“No. Why?” You replied.

“The two of you just seem so awfully distant lately.” She said, “And Elijah’s been in some kind of somber mood, he practically just shuts himself in his room all day. It’s Klaus who normally does that.” 

“He’s been avoiding me for two weeks, ever since the incident with a vampire.” You said. 

She raised a brow in question, “What incident?” 

“You mean he didn’t tell you?” You then recounted how you discovered the secret that lies beneath the streets of New Orleans.

–

Taking a deep breath, your fist hung an inch away from the door to Elijah’s room. After telling Rebekah the whole story, she pestered (and almost dragged) you to go to Elijah and talk it out.

You were about to knock when the door suddenly swung open. Elijah Mikaelson stood there, in a white shirt and pyjama pants, looking very much surprised. 

“Y-Y/N? What’re you doing here?” He asked once he had finally come around. 

“I’m worried.” You admitted, “You’ve been avoiding me for two weeks. I had no idea if something had happened to you or if you were mad at me or something. 

“I’m a vampire, an Original vampire, for goodness sake.” Elijah said, “I’m a monster, Y/N/N, I could hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“‘Lijah, what’re you talking about? You’re anything but a monster. You’re literally the sweetest person I know.” You protested. 

“Aren’t you terrified by the prospect that I was transformed into a creature that feeds off of blood? A creature that nearly killed you?” 

“I’m not and you wanna know why? Because I know the real you and you’re far from just a vampire.” 

“But-” Before he could utter another word you suddenly pressed your lips to his, effectively shutting him up.

“That was.” Elijah grinned as he found it difficult to find the words to describe just how perfect it was. 

You giggled, looping your arms around his neck, “If you’re going to pick back up on your monologue, I’m seriously kicking you.” 

The vampire chuckled, “I can’t seem to recall what the topic was anymore.” before pulling you in for another kiss.

–

The sun was shining, the air was cool, and all the factions of New Orleans were at peace - nothing could seem more perfect.

Especially with your arm looped around Elijah’s. 

“It feels like eternity since I last saw this.” Elijah mused. 

“Saw what?” You asked. 

“This.” He emphasized, “Everything is at peace, almost as if we were in some sort of paradise.” 

Looking up at him with a smile, you said, “As long as I’m around you, everyday is paradise.”

The original chuckled, pecking a kiss to your cheek, “Now look who’s stealing my lines.” 

“What?” You feigned offence, “Would you rather someone else did?” 

“Never in a million years.” Elijah answered.

–

“Where is she? Bring me to her, this instance!” Elijah almost screamed as he bursted through the doors of the compound.

“Elijah, you need to calm down, she’s okay.” Rebekah said in an attempt to console her brother. 

“I saw her, Rebekah, I know she isn’t okay - it’s my fault, I need to see her.” Her older brother pleaded. 

“She’s in the guest room with Cami.” 

As soon as the blonde uttered these words, Elijah ran to the room in question, “Camille! How is she?”

Cami shushes him, “She’s okay Elijah, her injuries looked worse than they actually were, she’s just resting now.” 

The original breathed a sigh of relief as he sat down on the seat Cami had been occupying earlier while nursing you, “Thank you Cami, I’m sorry for what happened.” 

Cami gave him a reassuring smile, “It’s not your fault Elijah, none of us would’ve seen it coming.”

She then left the room, closing the door behind her to give you and Elijah some privacy.

“Y/N, you shouldn’t be here, go home, it’s too dangerous.” Elijah said the moment he saw you.

“I can’t Eli, I can’t stay home knowing  that all of you are out here.” You protested. 

“It’s too dangerous out here, you could get seriously hurt and I don’t want that.” He argued. 

Before you could argue any further, Elijah immediately vampire-sped you to a secluded part of the area, “Stay here and don’t come out unless you are in grave danger or I come to pick you up.” 

With a roll of your eyes, you quickly pressed a kiss to lips, “Little advice, getting stabbed with the white oak stake, because that will surely get you killed.” 

Despite the ongoing battle, Elijah managed to smile, “I’ll take note of that then.”

–

Elijah would surely lecture you for this, that is if the both of you make it out of this alive. 

It feels like actual torture to just stand around and wait for the battle to be over, so naturally, you ignored what Eliah had tol you and set out to fight.

Setting aside the tragedy, the whole scenery almost looked like something out of a movie - the blood splattered everyday could’ve been enough to stage a couple of crime scenes, hearts lay discarded, almost indistinguishable figures moved in and out and fortunately, no one has noticed you.

That’s when you saw it, Lucien with the white oak stake in his hand, ready to stab an unsuspecting Elijah busy fighting another vampire. 

So, you did the natural thing and took the stake for him.

Elijah closed his eyes, he could still remember the way his senses told him that something was wrong a little too late, the way the blood soaked your shirt, your pained scream.

He was supposed to protect you, how could he let that happen?

“Elijah…” He suddenly heard the voice he so desperately wanted to hear. 

“Y/N/N,” Elijah stood up, stroking your hair, “How’re you feeling?” 

You smiled at him, “I’m feeling fine, shoulder’s just a bit sore.”

“I’m sorry,  I should’ve been able to protect you, I was supposed to keep you safe. How do I manage to kill every woman I love?” He said.

“It’s not your fault, you protected me, you literally had me hide in a safe place. I was the one who walked into the battlefield.” You insisted. 

A slight pout formed on Elijah’s lips, “But you still got hurt, you literally got stabbed. I should’ve just brought you back to the compound first.” 

“And let you get stabbed with the white oak stake? Not a chance.” You laughed. 

“But you got hurt.” 

“And you’re alive, would you rather it be the other way around?” 

“I don’t like it when you get hurt.” 

“I told you to avoid the white oak stakes.” 

You sighed, intertwining your hands, “Eli, I’m not a damsel in distress, I appreciate that you want to protect me but know that I can also protect you. It’s basically just give and take.” 

“For as long as I can remember, I’ve always protected everyone I loved.” He said.

“Then, me and your family will always be here to protect you.” You answered.

[clonedchaos]

My Chaos Theory Season 2 Nonsensical Rambles! 🦖🦕

Okay, okay. This season was sooo good y’all! For those of you that have watched the season all the way through already, feel free to read. They’re just my comments, notes, and theories that I wrote down after watching each episode. It’s a whole lot of nonsense, really. THIS INCLUDES SPOILERS SO DO NOT READ BELOW THE CUT IF YOU DON’T WANT TO SEE ANY!!!

Happy JWCT Season 2 release day, too! 🎉 Happy Viewing! And thank you so much to our wonderful writers, animators, voice actors, and everyone in between who came together to make this absolutely phenomenal series come to life! I appreciate you all so very much for all your dedication towards a project that means the absolute world to me! ❤️💐 This season really tugged at the heart strings, and even got some tears out of me at the end. I want everyone to watch this beloved series spoiler free, so last warning— HEAVY SPOILERS AHEAD! I hope you all enjoy it just as much as me.

And again, thank you so so so much to the people who brought this amazing series to fruition. I’ve been struggling a lot lately, and this show— and its franchise— has really made the hard days in my life more bearable to overcome. It has helped me in many ways, and I just wanted you to know how much its meant to me (if they somehow see this). So… Thank you. 💐🌸🌺

🦕🦖 Camp Fam For Life! 🦖🦕

Episode 1:

KENJI WHAT THE HECK?! Why are you being so self sacrificing?! (I know why, but still) Painful to watch. The little spark of Yaz’s and Kenji’s old friendship is so cute, and I really hope she can help him work through this trauma more.

Okay, the beginning with Sammy and Yaz was so simple yet adorable. And the way Yaz wraps her arms around Sammy and pulls her close— STOP MY HEART! 😭🩷💜

Majungasaurus’s are cannibals in this franchise? I need to brush up on research for their species, but I’m just used to having a lot of them in one enclosure when playing Jurassic World Evolution. I’m glad they’re finally getting some spotlight, I’ve always had a soft spot for them. (Okay, I have a soft spot for every carnivore in this entire franchise but you know what I mean).

The lightning and animation was absolutely incredible, especially in the storm sequences. They did great at making the atmosphere fill you with a sense of dread as the characters were getting stalked at every turn. That one frame of Darius hiding behind a crate and holding up his phone towards the Majunga is a personal favorite of mine.

The fluffy moment of Darius, Ben, and Sammy trying to be the first to match a roar with its proper dinosaur was soooo cute. My favorite parts of this series have always been times when they can just relax and have fun— I’m a fluff enjoyer, what can I say? One thing this show really excels at is fostering a lovely friendship between the campers. Their interactions are always lovely.

Darius being the first one to reach out to Kenji and haul him from the boat… I’m glad they’re slowly reconnecting again.

Okay, LETS TALK about the Ben noticing Brooklynn thing. I feel like the DLN fumbled the bag in terms of keeping her a secret. Like… why did they have her in the video? If they’re using her for their own gain like I’m assuming, why would you want to give anyone the inkling that she could be alive? I guess they just didn’t think no one would notice? I mean, she’s the only one not wearing the mask in the photo.

Not Kenji making jokes about his deceased father… It’s in character for him, yes. But still… as his friends said: “Too soon.”

Episode 2:

I read the title “Marooned 5” as “Maroon 5”…

Already I love the new character. It’s really cute how Zayna’s friendship with the Gallimimus sort of mirrors Darius and his ties towards the same species. The Stegos also looked like they were protecting her when they sensed danger.

Sammy being the mama bear of the group now is so 🥺🥺. She’s still the cheerful, positive gal she always was, but I love how she’s matured as she’s grown up.

Kenji trolling Darius got a laugh out of me. Brothers will be brothers.

Suchomimus appreciation! I absolutely adore its patterning, it reminds me a lot of the African savanna’s. It’s ironic, given that Sucho’s were first discovered in Africa. I wonder if that’s merely coincidence, or maybe, just maybe, they’re being transported to continents that they would have lived on millions of years ago? Could it be the DLN’s doing? Or am I just looking into it too much? (Future Me here: Yes, you are)

KENJI WHY DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH?!?!?! Bro literally squared up with a Suchomimus. Admire the bravery Kenj, but you’re making my anxiety worse, my guy. 😭😭

I really enjoyed the hints of cohabitation that was present in this episode. Humans gave the stegosaurus’s food, while the stegos offered them protection from predators. THIS is stuff I wanted to see in Jurassic World Dominion. I wanted to see HOW humans coexisted with these dinosaurs.

THE CONCEPT ART *chef’s kiss*

Episode 3:

Ah. We come to the episode a large part of the fandom has been waiting on… A Brooklynn backstory. Boy, was it a doozy. For starters, I didn’t know Brooklynn was a biker. Really hyping up that bad girl persona.

The campers keeping in touch on a zoom call makes this so much more upsetting. They still seemed very close up until Brooklynn died. Then, they just lost touch for a while.

I’ve started realizing I relate a lot to Brooklynn, especially in this episode. She’s overworked and “all over the place”. As someone who can sometimes put too much on her own shoulders, I 100% understand the level of stress she’s putting on herself. Not to mention she can be so caught up in one thing that she misses the actual moment in reality. It’s something I myself am working on; adhd doesn’t exactly help. But I definitely get where’s she’s coming from.

THE DARIUS CONFESSION STRESSED ME OUT HOLY CRAP— Like, the way Brooklynn inches away, Darius quickly tries to change the subject. Gods, it made me anxious just watching. I literally put my head in my hands and started mumbling to myself during the scene. (I’m slowly going insane 😭)

Seeing Brooklynn in pain and anguish once she realized how she lost her arm was heartbreaking. This was the time she needed her friends most. But for their safety in Brooklynn’s eyes, they couldn’t be there.

THE POOR COMPY WITH A CONE AROUND HIS NECK! 😭😭😭 No nibbling, he’s banished to cone jail!!!

So… the camp fam and Brooklynn’s dads came together for her funeral… I could have only imagined how rough that would’ve been. I’m honestly glad they didn’t show it, because I would’ve been balling uncontrollably for the next hour. And the fact that she was going to reveal her false death to her friends and family RIGHT before the DFW came in and screwed it up?!?! Ahhhh!!!!

THAT GUY?! WASN’T HE THE ONE WHO COULDN’T SHOOT A GUN IN SEASON 1?! AND SAMMY’S FARM WAS A SETUP, DID I HEAR THAT RIGHT?!?!?!?! (Someone please clarify, idk if he was talking about farms in general or if it meant Sammy, I forgot)

Episode 4:

Heck yeah! Malta! Crossing my fingers they show it in a later episode.

The small moment of Sammy watching Zayna and her mom… I NEED to know what went on between her and her parents.

Love the parallel between the opening of JW Dominion and Brooklynn’s escape at the farm. It’s a nice little throwback.

Dubai? Why Dubai? I absolutely love the mystery aspect, it’s like the more they reveal, the more questions are brought to the surface. The writers and everyone really went above and beyond this season.

Episode 5:

Sammy acting as the protective older sister of Zayna is so in character for her. “14 and 3/4. She’s still countin’ quarters, Kenj!”

Okay, I probably should’ve said this in an earlier episode, but Ronnie having the user Clever Girl just makes me so inexplicably happy.

SOYONA SANTOS?!?! AAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

WE’VE WON GUYS, WE’VE WON!!!! GUYS IM LOSING MY MIND AS IM TYPING THIS!!! IVE ALWAYS WANTED HER TO HAVE A BIGGER PART TO PLAY AND HOLY MOLY SHE DOES! OF COURSE SHES THE BROKER! HOW DID I NOT SEE THIS?!?!?! AND IT’S HER ACTUAL ACTRESS VOICING HER TOO!!!

*ahem* Anyways… I’ll try and keep my cool.

Soyona is artsy? She’s very demure, very mindful. In all actuality, I’ve always been very interested by her character. She’s very poised an elegant, yet calm and calculating at the same time. Her and Brooklynn having a sort of “chess match of wits” which was very entertaining to watch.

Well, Camp Fam, looks like we know where Red has been all this time. I wonder if Red is Soyona’s favorite of the pack, much like Blue is to Owen.

Poor Yaz having to share a boat with Kenji and Ben while they’re arguing like an old married couple. She’s such a mood, no wonder I kin her.

Episode 6:

Poor Ben. Why is everyone having panic attacks? 😭😭😭

I think it’s interesting how Yaz, whom is the most introverted of the 6, ends up being the peacekeeper in this season. She knows when her friends are hiding something, and she’s going back and forth trying to help everyone out all at once. Her and Brooklynn are pretty similar in that regard, I’ve noticed.

Sammy’s a vegetarian? I guess it makes sense given her love of animals.

OKAY THE HIPPO VS SUCHO SCENE?!?!?! THEY LEFT YAZ?!?! Nononono I’m panicking!!! SAMMY’S FACE WHEN SHE REALIZED!!! I’m so worried, she definitely must’ve gotten a concussion from that hit.

I really wanna know if Red would have attacked Soyona during her deal with Brooklynn. Every cut in film is directed with a purpose. If they’re showing you something, it’s meant with intent. Maybe it’s a coincidence they kept cutting toward Red and having her in the limelight between them, but was the Raptor debating having Brooklynn in charge of her? Maybe Atrociraptors aren’t THAT smart, but I’m curious to know. After all, it’s implied Soyona raised them with a personal connection. If Red is similar to Blue, would she had done it had Brooklynn asked?

Episode 7:

Sammy’s 100% in distress mode. She doesn’t care if what she’s doing is level headed, she just wants to protect her girlfriend. And honestly… I could blame her. If I were in her position, I would’ve reacted the same.

I know I’m supposed to be scared of the Suchomimus and all that, but… it looked so adorable when it was curled up!!! Darn it, carnivores can be cute too!!!

I love how Darius tries his best to talk to Zayna… with Sammy sitting right behind them. Like Darius she’s hearing EVERY WORD you say my man 😭. And Zayna’s RESPONSE and EXPRESSION! “Sammy’s girlfriend is by herself surrounded by killer dinosaurs. Why would I take anything she says personally?” 😐 She is very mature for her age, honestly.

Flying Pterosaurs… ITS ALWAYS THE FLYING PTEROSAURS THAT RUIN EVERYTHING!!!

More animals coexisting was fun. Well, coexisting as in Sucho’s eat hippos for a late night snack and Lions eat Dimorphodons for dinner. I’m sure it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, of course, but I really like how this series is giving us more of dinosaurs living among other animals and humans. As stated earlier, it barely got touched on in Dominion. THIS is the type of content I’ve been waiting for!

NAH THAT SUCHO SWIMMING SCENE WAS CREEPY—-

I love how Kenji immediately embraces Yaz. She just wants to hug her girlfriend and Sammy’s standing there straight faced like “…” And Yaz saying “I really wanna hug my girl right now.” 😭😭😭😭😭 YASAMMY DESERVES THE WORLD!!!

Episode 8:

YAZ HUGGING KENJI IM ABOUT TO CRY SO MUCH Y’ALL!

Darn it, I was hoping for an Indoraptor hidden in the lab. 😞 Wouldn’t have made sense, but hey, worth a shot. But what DOES make sense is how there got to be so many dinosaurs roaming around the world once Dominion rolled around. Of course they would try and clone new ones to maximize profits. There was only so many that got released post Fallen Kingdom.

The blind Baryonyx… all I can think about is giving it a hug. Poor little one is stuck down there, more than likely because Santos figured she couldn’t sell it. I wanna adopt them. :(

NO IM NOT READY FOR THE ARGUMENT I DONT WANNA SEE IT!!!!!!

Episode 9:

Ironic how creation… kills the creator. It’s honestly sad how he manipulated the baryonyx’s genes to remove its eyesight entirely. It’s nice to see a use of echolocation, however. The movies never get it quite right imo or just don’t bring it up ever.

Okay, Soyona’s “Trust is hard to come by” line makes me think… what if The Handler could have stolen some of the raptors from her? Sure, she hired a hit out for the campers and more than likely enlisted the Handler’s help. However, both of them have a deep connection with the raptors. Maybe Red was the only one who stayed by Soyona’s side? It’s a great stretch, but it just got me thinking.

Brooklynn needs evidence to send Santos to jail, right? But… she’s out doing stuff in Dominion. So either someone bails her out of jail, OR, Brooklynn fails… which one is it?

Episode 10:

WE MADE IT! Did I spend roughly 5-6 hours binge watching this for the entire day? Maybe. Do I feel like garbage for not getting out of bed? Umm… Kinda. (I’ll try to exercise, I promise…)

I WAS SO SCARED KENJI WAS ABOUT TO PUNCH BEN! DUDE WHAT?!?!?!

I love how the villains in this franchise aren’t just treating their Dino’s like the Indominus and Indoraptor were treated. Both the scientist and Soyona ended up forming bonds with their animals. AND WHAT WAS THE THING WITH RED?! HELLO? SHE CAN LITERALLY MIMIC NOISES?!?! THIS WAS LITERALLY MY FACE DURING THAT PART NO JOKE:

ITS SO CUTE BUT HORRIFYING?!?!?! ITS LITERALLY A PARALLEL OF THE INDOMINUS GETTING THE RAPTORS TO TURN AGAINST OWEN!!! RED IS BECOMING ONE OF MY FAVORITE DINOSAURS Y’ALL, I’M FREAKING OUT!!!!

I literally do not care how unbelievable of a scenario that would be. It was freaking cool!

That one frame of the Baryonyx in the dark hallway is so creepy… My sleep paralysis demon fr.

So… let’s talk about the end… Not only do I really really need a season 3, but I just… I don’t know… The moment Kenji grabbed Brooklynn’s hand before she headed into the jet is what prompted me to cry. Yes, I did cry, don’t judge me plz. 😭 “I’m not the Brooklynn you once knew”… NO! YOU ARE!!!! I was waiting, waiting for Brooklynn to ditch Soyona and embrace her friends, leaving the show off on a note where they have to stop her and Biosyn. But… Brooklynn left them. This entire season, I was waiting for them to be with one another again… All I can think about is- where do they go from here? Brooklynn has shown she’s willing to do whatever it takes to expose this mess, even if it meant abandoning her friends… So what’s going to happen when her friends follow her? How long can she keep this up?

[blueberrypancakesworld]

You got me simping for Vaegon…

First of all thank you so much for reading it and omg yes Vaegon is just so cute and his decision to become Archmaster has saved him such an icon in his family…even though you didn't ask for it anon I thought this might do another simp some good enjoy reading ;)

Prince/Achmaster Vaegon Targaryen in a relationship SFW/NSFW

°You met him when he still held the title of prince of the realm. One of many princes and princesses but a young man who had already suffered losses of his own blood. The deaths of his siblings and yet this did not seem to bother him, he attended the funerals and mourning ceremonies and kept to the prescribed time of mourning and yet. She had never seen a single tear in his violet eyes or a look of distress. On the contrary, the more deaths that happened, the more everyone mourned, the more often his gaze seemed to settle on her. Since those times of mourning, they seemed to be more and more united. He gave her his cloth handkerchief and even sent her a cup of tea to lift her spirits, ,,With best wishes from Prince Vaegon," her servant had told her.

°The paths of the two often crossed in the castle, a courtesy always towards her, and she thought she saw something like true joy in him when she was with him in the library, they met there almost every day, she kept him company more and more. She turned away from her friend and princess Alyssa to spend her free time with Vaegon. ,,You can go to the hunt, the others will be waiting," he had once said when she had preferred to read and study with him in the castle garden instead of attending the royal hunt. It was the first time she put her hand on his and saw the smile on his fine lips and it was the first time he came closer and gave her a kiss.

°It was the first time he neglected his duty and gave in to his feelings as his sisters did. ,,By the Great Citadel, I've wanted to taste you for so long," he confessed as his delicate hands held her, not roughly but gently, yet she sensed a power slumbering in him, his violet eyes always watching her. That this beginning was a time of love, trust and secrets. When she was with him, he laughed a hearty laugh, an honest laugh, something that made her heart beat faster. When he was with her, he allowed himself physical contact with her, cuddled with her in his chambers and read her the most beautiful poems he had composed.

°He was the only one who allowed her to ride out with him, telling her everything he knew about the animals and plants with a curious gleam in his eyes as she rode beside him, a sweet smile curling her lips. ,,Your knowledge is your beauty, Vaegon," she had said and giggled as she saw his pale blue cheeks turn pink and he looked away. But when she tried to give him a kiss, he returned the favor and kissed her faster. A day that ended in even deeper love in the forest. A day that had started with blood when he was cut with a sword by his older brother during training and angrily left the yard only to be slowly helped by her when he understood that she cared, that she had always seen him, that he was not overlooked as he had been by his parents. ,,I always take your concerns seriously, my prince," she confessed and finally pulled the fresh bandage around the wound and was about to turn away when he took her hand and squeezed it gratefully, ,,And for that I am bound to you my dear love".

°But as love blossomed, it also became clear that with the royal couple becoming parents and the death of his siblings, it was more tragic than ever that he was eligible for the Thorn. A fact that involved power and danger, ,,I don't want a throne if it increases the likelihood of losing you, my love," he had made clear one night as they sat together in front of the fireplace, the books set aside and his hand resting on hers. Her uncertainty about this, however, was extinguished when she saw the stubborn glow in the violet when he had to fight his enemies in the castle courtyard. When they humiliated him and he withdrew, he knew no, she knew just as he knew that he would never want to be king…but they both knew that a prince cannot shirk his responsibilities. Even if she came from a noble house, she was no Tyrell, Hightower or Lannister, it would not be enough for a marriage.

°But his decision and his father's permission brought new sides of love and soon she found Vaegon in front of the Citadel again knowing that it was actually a farewell, that he would lose his status, that he could pursue his destiny forever, ,,I will find a way…I will find a way to love you forever…even if it means breaking duties". A promise which he sealed with a kiss and deeds because as prince he arranged for him to have his personal servant and septa, a woman who would take care of his everyday affairs without notice. A matter that was settled when she put on the white robe and pinned the dragon's brooch to it almost with pride. ,,So everyone will see that you belong to me and are mine," she heard his whispered words as she was with him in his private room and thought she saw the madness, the madness of dragons, in his violet eyes for a moment in the semi-darkness …. but it was surely her imagination as he engaged her in another kiss.

NSFW

°The days at the citadel were long and exhausting, the knowledge had to be transferred and learned, chains had to be forged and the camp had to be managed. Rules, duty and order and a single woman among hundreds of men. But there was pride in her gaze, she did not duck away, she seemed to become like him, dutiful and yet with a hint of haughtiness that she knew, no actually everyone knew, what she was doing behind closed doors, what sounds came from the prince's room as his fingers slipped under the white dress. Peeling the fabric from her body, he almost greedily took what was rightfully his, his own dragoness nien better than what his shiwsters had ever had. ,,You are the precious treasure of House Targaryen, not the throne or the crown," he murmured to her as he kissed his way along her skin until he could finally touch her again.

°He marked her, trailing his kisses along her skin that was otherwise protected by the fabric, biting spurs over which he ran his fingers throughout the day. ,,Your beauty is indescribable gods," he sighed as his fingers massaged her breasts, gripping the flesh of her thighs, praising her, longing for her praise as she clung to him as he penetrated her, moaning her name, keeping the sounds of lust through the corridors at night in the darkness of the sacred place.

°He turned to painting with various fabrics and colors in the course of his studies, ,,You as my muse are the only thing beautiful in these halls," he had said as she sat down on the armchair, his demands animated with lust, his violet eyes seeming to turn a dark purple as she gradually released the fabric from her crown and spread her legs. He saw her swallowing, humming something to himself, and he had to restrain himself from throwing the painting away and taking her. He came up to her hungry for her sweetness for more of her when he knelt down in front of her his way up her leg trailing kisses on it to finally let his tongue wrap over her center. Studying his body from her beautiful example and learning to receive her praise.

°But even during the day in the citadel, she felt the other's gaze on her, felt his touch on her body like a gentle breeze. But she also helped him when she "helped" with all the things, pulling her hand onto his, pulling him into chambers. This time it was his lascivious noises that echoed through the corridors. Vaegon tried to suppress them, a shaking hand on his mouth or hiding his head in the books, but his redness was clearly visible to her when she looked up at him. His fingers tangled almost gently and needily in her hair, praising her. The hours of their love always took place in the free time and then until late at night but most of all their time together was safe from the throne and the battles outside the citadel where their love and lust could blossom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

masterlist

[just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms]

Title: Atta Girl

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word count: 1,330

Warnings: dirty talk, no actual smut but a definite lead up

A/N: I’ve never written Hotch before, so please be kind. I apologize for no editing, the idea came to me and I immediately wrote it on my phone lmao Enjoy! Feedback appreciated!!

Tagging @ssahotstuff and @hotchscvm because I recently discovered you guys and love your fics (hope it’s okay I tagged you!)

———

Pulling into the motel parking lot the team exited their SUV’s, grabbing their bags and slowly walking towards the rooms. Each of you were at the brink of near collapse from exhaustion, so everyone agreed to whatever lodging was closest.

“Alright, get some sleep. We regroup around 8am.” Hotchner looked over his shoulder.

“Come on Hotch,” Morgan groaned. “Give us a break, man.”

Hotch stopped and took in the teams exhausted faces. “Okay, I’ll give you a break. 8:15am be ready.”

“Such generosity,” Emily laughed.

“Reid, Morgan, Dave, you’re all in room 7. Emily, JJ, Garcia, you’re all in room 8. Y/N,” he turned to you. “You’re with me. Each of the rooms can only sleep 3 with someone taking the couch.”

“Fine.” You didn’t argue and walked past him. “But if you snore I’m sleeping in the car.”

Walking into the room you both gave each other an exasperated look. The beds were tiny. There was a table and chair in the corner that looked like it would collapse any second. And neither of you wanted to be there, but also didn’t have the energy to verbally protest.

“I’m going to feel huge in this bed.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his words. “What?”

“Um, in a different context that was kinda dirty.” You started to laugh again and Hotch ran his hands over his face.

“Must everything be dirty?”

“When it’s going to be funny, yeah.” You gave him a quick smirk and turned back to your bag. But it’s also a good option when you want to get a topic going.”

Hotch paused, staring down at his own bag. “Which one is it?”

You paused. “Right now? Funny.” You paused again. “But that’s just right now.”

Hotch let your words sink in and before he could respond you were the first to speak.

“Shower?” Hotch turned at your words. “Do you need it right now because I’m gross as hell.”

“Oh, no, all yours.” Hotch turned back to his bags to unpack his things.

You got the shower running and were halfway through shampooing when you heard a knock. “Y/N? I…”

“Yes?”

“I really, really need to pee. I’m sorry.” You could tell the mortification on his part through the door.

“You’re fine! Come in. I grew up with one bathroom so I’m used to it.”

As the door opened Hotch tried to keep his composure. “I am sorry.” You could tell he was hesitating.

“Um, you do remember I was a nurse for 5 years right? This is nothing.” Your words helped him relax.

While you finished rinsing your hair you were extremely aware of the fact that only a thin curtain stood between the two of you. You were completely exposed, and in a way so was he.

You could hear him wash his hands and leave the room. Quickly finishing you toweled off, threw your hair in a second towel, and wrapped yourself tightly making sure it wouldn’t fall. Grabbing the door handle you opened the door. “Bathrooms free.”

Hotch grabbed his things and walked over. As you moved to leave, he was coming through the doorway. Your chest brushed against his and your towel started to slip. As your hand flew to grab the towel, Hotch stared down at you, focusing on your face.

“That’s the second time you’ve been ‘inappropriate’ tonight.” Hotch’s eyes never left yours. “I’m starting to think you were trying to start a conversation earlier.”

Unsure of how to respond you moved through the doorway and turned to him. “Glad you’re finally catching on,” you smirked and walked away. Hotch took a deep breath and closed the door.

You grabbed a tank top and underwear and right as you covered yourself you heard the door open. “Can I come out? I forgot something.”

“Yeah no problem.” You answered not really realizing the level of undressed you were.

When Hotch turned the corner, he stopped mid-step, completely caught off guard. You didn’t even realize it until you felt his eyes on you.

“Oh, shit. Sorry. It’s how I slee-“ but you couldn’t finish your sentence. Standing there in nothing but a towel you took in his body. His large frame, his arms and shoulders, chest and torso.

“You good?” Hotch smirked, taking a few steps towards you.

“Um, respectfully,” you paused. “No way I could have guessed you looked….well this good under your suit.” Each of you let your words hang in the air. Hotch slowly started walking towards you.

“What caught your eye first?”

“I think…your biceps.” Your mind raced to give a reason. “You could really throw a girl around.”

In one motion Hotch crossed to you, grabbed your arms, circled them around his neck, and grabbed both your legs at your thigh to wrap around his waist. You buried your face in the base of his neck as you tightened your grip around his waist. Without a word he walked you to a wall and as soon as your back hit, he pulled his head back as you let yours rest against the wall. His eyes studied your face. Pupils dilated, lips parted, cheeks flushed, and chest rapidly rising and falling.

“You’re right. I can throw a girl around.”

“Show me.” You challenged.

Hotch smirked. “First I gotta make sure you’ll be worth it.”

It was your turn to smile. “Oh I promise…I will be.”

“I knew you would.”

Finally breaking the tension you pulled his lips to yours. You held the kiss, neither of you moving for several seconds. When the kiss finally broke, you each pulled back and smiled.

“Fucking hell Y/N.”

Hotch pressed his lips back to yours and this time the kiss was deeper. Your tongues slowly met and you tangled your fingers into his hair as your grip tightened on the top of his back. He dug his nails lightly, but firmly into your thigh with one hand and brought the other to tangle in your hair at the base of your head.

You needed him to know you were all in, but also you weren’t going to let him run the show. At least not right away. Getting a good grip on his hair you pulled his head back. You dragged your tongue up the side of his neck before resting your lips right next to his ear.

“You take on too much, and are in control too often. Let me show you what a good girl like me can do to you.”

Hotch’s breath caught in his throat before he let out a soft, low laugh that made his chest rumble. It was his turn to fist and pull your hair, exposing your neck to drag his tongue across your pulse point. His lips rested at the base of your ear and he paused to collect himself.

“You will be my good girl…however,” his hand let go of your hair and moved in one smooth motion to lightly grip your throat, “you will also be my dirty little slut, just for me, and show me every trick you have. I will take control when you edge me to the point I have no choice but to stop you so that after I make you cum again,” his grip tightened around your throat, “and again,” his grip tightened more, “and again, I will force you to the point you are literally begging for me to rail you until you nearly black out you cum so hard on my cock.” His hand let go and went back to grab your thigh. “Understand?”

Your head was spinning. Your pussy was tingling. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to kiss him or drop to your knees right then.

“I understand completely…sir.”

“Atta girl.”

He let you down slowly to your feet. His towel falling away as you slid down his body.

“Now,” he took a step back. “Show me how my perfect good girl will be my dirty little slut.”

[hey-august]

I know I'm pathetic - Pt 6

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Fic tag)

✨The final part!!✨ I just added a warning for implied sex since I did a last minute adjustment. I hope yall had fun reading this throughout the week! 🩷 And for those who prefer to read everything in one-go, enjoy!!

WC: ~550

Warnings for the entire story: NSFW, mdni, Buggy x GN!reader, not an established relationship, dubcon, auralism, masturbation, buggy is a fucking perv, slight degradation kink, implied sex

Tag list: @rorywritesjunk @lostfirefly @ane5e @fanaticsnail

Title from Pathetic by blink-182

“Captain…”

Shit. He definitely didn’t imagine it. This was a problem. Did you know? Were you messing with him? He needed to find out.

Buggy flew out of his room before reigning himself in. There were plenty of people still awake and he didn’t want to drag attention to himself. He strode to the bathroom, unsure what he would do when he got there. What he would say to you. What he would ask.

It didn’t matter though. By the time he got to the bathroom, it was empty. You were gone. All that was left was steam and a message on the mirror.

“I’m waiting for you.”

Was this message really for him? Were you actually waiting for him? Why? Was it a trick? Buggy’s mind was reeling, torn between the fucked up fantasies he’s been indulging in and what little grasp on reality he still had.

An unexpected sensation pulled him from the cyclone of thoughts. A warm breath on his ear. His ear…where was it? It wasn’t in the bathroom anymore.

Lips grazed his missing appendage and he shuddered.

“Captain? Did you find my message yet?”

Buggy's breath stopped in his chest as you whispered directly to him.

“I know your secret,” you teased. “I know what you’ve been doing, you perv. You’re a dirty guy, you know?”

He whimpered.

“Wanna know my secret?”

“Yes,” Buggy gasped to no one.

“I bet you do…my secret is that I like it. I like knowing that you touch yourself to me, captain.”

Buggy’s hand flew to his aching dick. If you liked it, he’d keep doing it.

“You’re probably touching yourself right now, you creep.”

He whimpered again.

“Would you stop if I told you to?”

He stopped.

“Would you screw me if I asked you to? I think I’d like that a lot more.”

Buggy’s legs moved before you finished that question.

“Please don’t keep me waiting too lon-”

You were interrupted by a frantic knocking and a breathless demand to open the fucking door.

---

Your sheets were soaked with sex and sweat by the time you two were drained and exhausted.

Buggy wasn’t sure if he was falling asleep or blacking out. His back was pressed against your chest and you were warm. So very warm.

“How’d you find out?” Buggy mumbled through the edges of sleep.

“Your boots are loud.”

Right. He knew that. He should have known it was a give away.

“I also had your ear on purpose.”

Now he was awake. Before Buggy could roll over, you held him tighter.

“Accidentally on purpose,” you laughed. “I found it earlier that day and put it in my pocket. I forgot and only remembered when I heard you outside my door. By then, it was too late.”

“Too late…”

“Well, I might have stopped if you knocked. But it sounded like you were enjoying yourself.”

Silence hung in the room as the words sunk in.

“You tricked me into listening to your- your debauchery, just so you could get off!" Buggy’s hands broke free and gestured wildly in the air. “You’re the pervert! You corrupted me,” he huffed offendedly. Provokingly.

“You were always a dirty freak, captain. Don’t be a liar too,” you said against his ear before giving it a small bite.

Buggy groaned softly through the smile on his face. He was a dirty freak. A depraved degenerate. A pathetic pervert. And so were you.

[roseluxxx]

GHOSTIN

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

warnings: cursing, hispanics, part 1

word count: 1.1k

summary: sent to a town to finish a report, the ghost he’s living with decides.. maybe he should stay

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes. The last truck is finally ready to move with all the latest equipment needed for this study; it cannot be procrastinated any longer, O’Hara.”

“Ay dios mío.” the scientist ran his fingers through his hair, eyes wide at the news that the “months away” move to a reclusive house in a far away “no-name” town was tomorrow.

This was technically his fault as his reluctance to complete the report on “Gene Growth Combined Experiment 4 (chemical X42): A conclusion on the development of the embryo.” as the full title stated, finally caught up to him.

He had just been busy developing the Spider-Anthropoid’s final stages; an equally important trial study to him, but not so much to Alchemax.

“You have a month at most, I will try to advocate for an extended stay but it’s in your best interest to finish this conclusion report swiftly. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Wonderful. Now get out of my office O’Hara, the driver will take you to your place and pick you up nice and early tomorrow. Be ready.”

Miguel fought back his taunting remark and left the cold, heartless office.

His work was important. If successful it would create the first human-spider hybrid combination and create an endless amount of possibilities. Ideally to improve the state of the common person, but he wasn’t naive enough to not think it wouldn’t be used for military advances.

“What time tomorrow?”

“9am sharp. Won’t be me though, my friend Gus will he here.” The driver glacéd in the rear view mirror as he pulled up to the window filled penthouse Miguel had the luxury to live in.

“None of my business, sir, but a word from my eavesdropping on the men who I chauffeured earlier.. apparently your new short term living space comes with a rumored “ghost friend”.”

Miguel scoffed, grabbing his coat and laying a few bucks in the drivers’ outstretched hand as he opened the car door, “If it’s none of your business then stay out of it,” he exited the car, “but thanks, chismoso.”

The next morning Miguel snatched the suitcases he packed, shut his blinds and locked his door, making his way to the waiting Taxi.

“Be ‘bout a 20 minute drive to the airport, sir, including traffic.”

He grunted in response, looking out the window as he half listened to the clearly extroverted mans’ essay on his new city’s attractions.

“Yep. But I did hear about that ghost in your house. Good luck with that.”

Miguel’s ears perked up. Ghost? All this talk about this damn ghost was getting him annoyed. Even if there’s such a thing as ther paranormal, he won’t be bothering them and subsequently they don’t have to bother him. Easy.

The yellow cab pulled up to the front of the airport, crowded as usual, and the broad man reluctantly gripped his belongings, giving the world another sigh before preparing himself for a 2 hour flight.

The keys were old, silver, the three individual ones clinging against each other as Miguel pulled them out of the mailbox, a letter falling to the ground.

To Current Renters,

Please note that this property is built on a solid foundation and the doors are properly built into the door frame.

A house is built with consideration to weather events so a very slight creak/sway is expected and not worrying.

It prevents the house from being too stiff and allows for a longer lifespan.

The windows may also be slightly loose within the window frame so feel free to lock them if the draft becomes too much.

No need to report noises either as the walls may run a little thin and animal calls can sound like humans if you are listening through a surface like a wall.

All this to say do not call us to report noises, wind, or creaking in the house.

Sincerely,

(for real.. do not contact us with these issues)

The Owner - Stephen Vincent

He opened the door on his second try, figuring the other keys lead to some kind of garage or safe. The door swung open with a small groan, almost apprehensive with his arrival.

The house itself was comfortable. A glass sliding door across the living space connected to large windows showcasing the beauty forests have to offer; a patio sitting beyond the door.

The kitchen was adorned with dark gray marble tops and a gray and white overall aesthetic for the counters and appliances. It was simple, classy, exactly what his boss thought would allow his mind to stay focused on his task.

Speaking of, the office space had been pre-turned into a small research center complete with the necessary chemicals, equipment, and state of the art technology. If he hadn’t known better he would’ve thought he had a whole mother experiment to conduct while he only needed to draw the conclusions in a consiste report.

That would be left for later, though. He entered what seemed to be his room. Comfortable. A light grey and white with a calming blue pop of color in the decor. Good enough.

Once his luggage had been felt with, he returned to the kitchen to find his fridge already stocked. Perfect.

He began a simple meal of blanco arroz con pollo frito when you saw him. Another one. Only one this time though. He should be easy enough.

You moved closer, getting a better look at this intruder. Immediately you noticed he was handsome, worth a second glance at least. He was toned beyond anyone who had set foot here before, a calm, concentrated expression settling on his face as he seasoned his chicken.

Miguel was dealing with the hot stove, his loungewear on that had just enough coverage to keep him warm when he stopped abruptly, feeling a chill run down his arm.

He dismissed it quickly. It was a new house to him and the air outside cooled drastically at night, a soft draft probably crept in. Big deal.

You decided rather quickly to let him stay for a bit. He was charming, exactly your type if you were honest with yourself which, ofcourse, you’d rather not be when said man barged into your home unannounced.

“You hold my interest,” you peaked at a blue ALCHEMAX security card, seeing the name Miguel O’Hara and the same man that was humming softly as he finished frying his dinner smiling up at you, “I’ll be watching, Miguel O’Hara.”

Thank you for reading! Reposts are extremely appreciated!❣️

A/N: Feel free to send in a request! (taking new ones for a short period of time)

This is part 1 to my new GHOSTIN series! Feel free to comment if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

Like my work? Check out my masterlist!

Also the warnings were a joke (Hispanics)

dont take it up the ahh🥱

[harunade]

IMAGINEE gyuvin is your situation ship/friends w benefits and one night at a party ricky is all over you while gyuvin watches from the other side of the room and when he finally decides he’s had enough of watching you two flirt he takes you away from ricky mid convo and shows you that you belong to him and him only ( he obvi confesses his love to you after some jealous sex 🤭🤭 )

— 🎀 anon

ANOOOONNNN…!/!!//£1&£

“What the fuck are you doing?” you ask yell at Gyuvin who has pushed you into one of the party host’s room. Obviously, you knew what he was doing adn why he was doing it. That night you decided to let Ricky be all over you, touching you and asking you to dance, just to get a reaction out of your situationship you actually crushed on. And thankfully, it worked, as you were now stuck in a room with him angrily looking at you.

“Just shut up” he rolled his eyes as he crashed his lips on you, making you lay down on the bed un the process. tonight’s kiss was rougher than usual, he was already biting your lips and slipping his own tongue inside your mouth, but at the same time you felt emotions put into it. Your hands shot to his fluffy brown hair as his kisses drifting to your neck, where he took his time biting and nibbling at your sensitive skin. You could hear him whimper when you accidentally pulled his hair too harshly.

“What’s gotten into you, Vin?” that’s when Gyuvin pulled away from the crook of your neck, only to stare in your eyes before placing a sweet kiss on your lips. “You’re mine” was all he said before pulling his shirt off, you following in an instant.

After many more kisses and marks on your chest from Gyuvin, while also caressing your waist in the process, he finally got your pants off and started fucking you. Somehow differently than other nights, his thrusts were rougher, as if he was trying to prove something and at the same time punish you. “Fuck- gyuvin..” you moaned as he managed to hit your g spot every time with no fail. You reached his hand, intertwining your fingers, and surprisingly he accepted. He was also more vocal than usual, letting his moans and groans free into the room, which you were loving. “Who’s fucking you this good, pretty?” he asked in a low voice as his free hand creeped to where your bodies connected, thumb attaching to your puffy clit. “you” a tear rolled down your face as the stimulation was getting too much. “say my name” his thrusts were getting sloppy, so you figured he was also close. “you, gyuvin.. i’m yours” you knew exactly what you were doing to him with your choice of words. “yes you are”

Shortly after, Gyuvin shot his load on you, filling you up to the brim. You loved the feeling of warmth in your belly but was quickly disappointed when he pulled out, not having made you cum yet. You thought it would be your punishment for not pushing Ricky away, but instead Gyuvin got on his knees and placed his tongue on your cunt. He skilfully cleaned you up from his cum while also making you orgasm in no time. After the second cleaning, he lifted himself back to you, giving you a french kiss. You could feel and taste both yourself and him on his tongue, and however disgusting it was, you loved it, and he did too. And you loved him, and he loved you too.

Gyuvin plopped down next to you, sneaking an arm under your waist and making you lay on his chest. He knew you loved listening to his heartbeat. “I’m sorry for pulling you away from Ricky, i think i just got jealous” he mumbled as he caressed your sides. “it’s okay, vin. to be honest i was doing you on purpose, i don’t like Ricky” you heard his breath stop for a moment. “Do you like me then…?” he asked doubtfully. “… i mean it’s okay if you don’t, but i do like you, a lot, that’s why i acted like that. sorry” he panicked and blurred everything out. You laughed, lifting your head and kissing him. “i like you too”

At that point, Gyuvin couldn’t hold his smile anymore. “Let me take you on a date tomorrow?” he titled his head cutely. “Take me on one right now, we can go to McDonald’s” you laughed at how fast he got dressed, while also helping you get dressed in case he was too rough. and after that you spent the night feeding each other fries (#^.^#)

[visionofvoid]

How the Drivers React to Seeing/Meeting You For the First Time - Part Two

George Russell:

“They’ll let anyone in here.” Lewis joked to an unknown woman beside George as they walked through the hall to make it to a strategic meeting and expectations on the track for the new year. Lewis was a legend in the game, quite literally a world champion though they needed to work harder if they wanted to earn Mercedes the title of Constructors Champion and get points for the new season. George? He was still newish, he was still trying to navigate his way through his role, especially when his teammate was the one and only Lewis Hamilton. 

“Lewis!” The girl seemed as if she was full of energy, Toto nodding at his two drivers in acknowledgement before looking back to the strange woman, a fond look on his face. “It’s been so long!” She had a slight accent, reminiscent of Toto’s. She seemed warm, like she cared to make a positive impact with everyone she had ever met. She had this radiant energy that George felt drawn to, and he wasn’t too sure how to feel about that given she was a stranger to him. 

“Well maybe if you visited your father more.” Toto jokes, the girl rolling her eyes as Lewis chuckled and embraced her.  

“Father?”

“Ah yes, you must be George. I’m Olive, Olive Wolff.”

Valtteri Bottas:

Tiffany Cromwell and Valtteri Bottas were a well known couple in the Formula One world, so, when the two decided to end their relationship everyone was shocked. It was rather amicable but Valtteri spent a lot of his free time healing, beginning to get used to being alone, and starting to fall in love with himself more. The two had remained close friends; nothing would ever change the love the two shared for one another, they just wished for different things in their lives and that was normal, that was okay. So, when Valtteri decided he wanted to put himself out there again, he called on for some advice from the closest female he knew that wasn’t family; Tiffany. 

Valtteri stood on the podium, his first P3 of the season in the third race of the season and he felt absolutely over the moon. He was in a new car in a new team and was just thrilled. He felt as if there was some luck out there for him, someone there to cheer him on. After all the interviews and the post race press conference he finally had some time to celebrate with his friends, team and everyone that worked behind the scenes and other celebrities that were in the city. 

“Valtteri!” The Finnish man turned, hearing the familiar feminine voice over all the others as he walked into the bar. Tiffany, with a drink in her hand, bounced on her feet towards Valtteri, leaving a friend awkwardly standing to herself. She embraced him, clearly a couple of drinks deep but excited to see him nonetheless. He chuckled as she pulled away, a pink flush on her cheeks. “I’m here to set you up with my girlfriend! You’ll love her!” He turned to the female that was making her way over, her cheeks also flushed but from the embarrassment of Tiffany’s statement. Valtteri noticed she was wearing a casual dress, not overly dressed up like everyone else in the bar. Just comfortable, though she still looked gorgeous, that much he knew. 

“I’m so sorry! I tried to get some water into her.” The friend apologised, taking the drink Tiffany was waving around out of her hand. “I’m not some groupie, by the way. Tiffany has made it her mission to find me someone. God, that makes me sound so desperate!” Her cheeks continued to flush a rosy colour, even under the dim lighting of the bar. Valtteri had he fair share of women clinging onto him for their five seconds of fame but this a thousand times different. “We were there, cheering you on. Though I must confess I wasn’t too sure what was happening. Tiffany, come on, everyone wants to say hello to hi-” Tiffany rolled her eyes, taking the drink back. 

“May I buy you a drink?” Valtteri chuckled at the duo, interrupting the woman’s nervous but rather cut rambling.

“Yes, of course she wants a drink, Bottas.”

Mick Schumacher:

To Whom it May Concern

Mick rose an eyebrow as he sorted through his mail, spotting a handwritten note. He didn’t believe it to be fan mail as it all got sent to another location that he picked up on a fortnightly basis and he kept his private life and address very out of the limelight, so he continued reading.

I am your new next door neighbour. My name is Josephine Kruger, I have all the horses you can probably see shitting in the field. I’m writing this note to apologise in advance if you hear my new pup barking at night or if he gets out into your property, the bastard is an escape artist. 

Here is my number if Nigel (the dog, a black labrador) gets out and wanders onto your property. I’m working on it. 

Apologies in advance.

Mick chuckled at the note before leaving it on the bench to sort through the rest of his mail. He made himself busy around the house before he decided to take some trash out to the bins, opening the door to see a black labrador puppy sitting on the top step, his tail wagging happily. His tongue hung out his mouth sloppily and his ears looked much too large for his head. He still had a lot of growing to do. Mick chuckled as he bent down, holding out his hand for the pup to sniff before he deemed Mick safe enough to jump up, asking for pets and scratches. 

Mick didn’t have pets of his own, especially when he travelled so much for work so he embraced the love he was receiving from the pup, picking him up. Nigel looked minuscule in his arms, twisting around so he was on his back, his paws in the hair and his tongue, once again, hanging out of his mouth. 

“Nigel? Oh goodness!” Mick looked up as he heard frantic yelling, the female presumably his new next door neighbour that he was yet to meet. He walked down the steps, looking down at Nigel whose ears seemed to perk up when he heard his name called by his owner. 

“Let’s go find your human.” Mick mumbled, walking down the path that led to his horseshoe shaped driveway, the sound of shoes hitting the pebbled driveway, coming closer with every second. Mick glanced up as he saw the figure of Josephine round the corner, her hair up in a rather messy bun that looked more like a mushroom cloud than anything else. She had a helmet in one hand and a leash in the other. 

“Nigel! God, I am so sorry!” Josephine was embarrassed to say the least. Her next door neighbour was gorgeous and here she was in a pair of riding boots, a dirty shirt and shorts with sweat dripping off her, running after her escape artist dog. “I cannot apologise enough.” Nigel almost seemed as if he was ignoring his owner, turning in Mick’s arms and hiding his face in the gap between his arm and chest. 

“No, no! It’s not a problem, honestly. He’s welcome here anytime. I’m Mick, I’m not home much.”

“I’m Josephine. I’m home too much.”

Pierre Gasly:

You've got a new match!

Serena looked at the notification on her phone, sliding it open to see what new man she had matched with now. She was in sunny Australia, having just finished an extra credit trip to help assist Indigenous Australian elders, archeologists and anthropologists in rural Victoria unearth the remains of a small family or tribe and now she was in a hotel in Melbourne flying out back to gloomy England in two days time. She had some steam she needed to blow off. 

She scrolled through the profile, noticing that the man she matched with was not from Australia which was perfect because it made one night stands just that much easier. His photos consisted of him in what looked as if to be luxurious sports cars, with his friends drinking wine in fancy restaurants and lots of motorsport pictures, not that she cared about the sport in the slightest. His profile had no other bio except for ‘In Melbourne for the weekend’. So, she bit the bullet and sent a message. 

How far away from the Pullman Hotel in Albert Park are you?

She waited no more than a few minutes to get a response. 

Pierre weighed up all his options before coming to his final decision. She could be a massive fan girl for all he knew, but then she could also be someone that was oblivious to who he was. She was stunning, that much he could tell from the photos. She didn’t appear to edit them at all. They were mainly images of her with what he assumed to be her dogs, her family and friends and photos of her travelling. He would be happy to spend a few hours with her. Quickly googling the hotel he found that he was only a five minute walk away. 

Five minute walk, give or take. 

I’m room 412. Message me when you get here.

Say less, Pierre thought. 

Kevin Magnussen:

After three seasons away, Nico Hulkenberg was back driving for Haas alongside former rival, Kevin Magnussen. It also meant it was three seasons since Nico’s younger sister was at a Grand Prix and back behind the scenes helping her brother. She was last to be introduced to everyone, this time as someone on Nico’s PR team rather than his little sister, and she was the last to formally meet Kevin.

The two had both undertaken a number of changes since the last time they were at the same event. Kevin was now divorced, a devoted father and now a close friend with his teammate, Nico. Lena was now a university graduate, just getting over a heartbreak from a stupid boy and was much more mature, both in her mannerisms and in her appearance. She seemed like a whole other person, at least to Kevin. 

“I look forward to working alongside the team, alongside Guenther, the engineers, the event planners, the mechanics, everyone. Thank you, Nico, for this opportunity and Kevin?” Kevin looked up from his beer, offering a sly smirk to Lena as she stared down at him. She looked ravenous and it was dangerous that the sole purpose of this dinner was to celebrate the start of a new season with an open bar. God, the things he wanted to do to her. He nodded, waiting for her response. “If you get into another PR nightmare like in 2017 with Nico, respectfully, suck my balls.” She sent him a wink that was enough to make Kevin feel hot, slightly turned on. Guenther let out a roar of laughter, everyone holding up their drinks to cheer. 

He was in for a long night.

[revelisms]

Back with another Magic Ministry AU story, heavily inspired by a rabbit hole on the Basilica Cistern. I've been working on this one for a while, and it's a bit on the longer side, but I really like where it's ended up.

As a sidenote — I thought this...might be the final push to get Terzo out of my system, because this ended up becoming one big messy character study of him (and how much he needs a hug). But, uh. Time will tell on that, I guess 🥸

light ascending

7k words | Rating: T | Terzo & Sister of Sin OC (Mariella) | OC-centric | CWs: Ritual magic, dark imagery, blood, language, doomed fate, grief, hurt/comfort. Also on AO3

The underground cleansing chamber hangs with a chill putrid as death. The fires do little to aid it, no matter their enchantments. In these halls lay the veins of a howling, primordial creature, devoid of life and devouring—and the cold is only one marker of the souls lost within its jowls. 

In one corner of the chamber, Sister Diana, High Priestess of the new Order, stands by a candlelit table. Her fingers dance delicately over shelves upon shelves of consecrated oils, stored here in preservation from any tarnishing by the sun.

"He's particular about his anointments," she is saying, twisting the seal free from one decanter. "Even more so, of their properties."

Not far behind, Sister Mariella, priestess-in-training, stands with hands clasped, her fair hair loose about her shoulders. Per tradition, she wears the plain black of their ritual robes: no paints, no gloves, no shoes: only a trace of sage-smoke on her silks and rosemary on her fingertips.

"Because of the Sight," she thinks aloud, "right?"

Diana turns over her shoulder. Her cropped fringe frames her face in a dark curtain; beneath it, a glimmer of hazel. "In some ways, yes." A smile plays at her mouth. "Not all."

The Sight is just one vessel of their Highest's magic, if the most sacred—powers granted only to the half-human, half-demon, half-Realm infinite. 

Some claimed that those in the papal line were descendants of Lucifer, himself, marked with the light of the Fallen. Others, that they were just unlucky children, sewn into the tapestry of a puppeteer's scheme.

She'd seen the Cardinal—Papa-elect now, formally, as of last Tuesday—enough times to think he was neither. 

Some unnamed thing between them, maybe.

Diana's hands clink through a set of pipettes. Vials are drawn and deposited: mixtures of amber, mugwort, chrism. Mariella's attention stays fixed over her shoulder, dutifully attentive. 

"It takes years to temper," their High Priestess continues. "For any variant, it could take a lifetime. But, where premonitions are concerned, the upper clergy are...I'm not sure if hesitant is the right word." 

As if any words were right for those black-robed bloodhounds beneath Sister's claws.

Mariella sneers. "Tight-assed?"

A chuckle rings bell-like off the walls. "Close."

"Does the variant matter, really?" Mariella wonders. "Even with Papa Secondo's ascension, they were asking questions."

Diana's fingers clatter through a wooden drawer, pulling out a jar of dried pine leaves. "The past is a clearer path, to most. What we could call the future is...contested, in the Order." She crushes one sprig between her fingers. The scent of a sweet forest snaps over her breath. "I've gathered that Bishop Alessandro thinks of it as inevitability. Cardinal Luca has always held the thought that it should serve as a guide; a mould to confirm to." She pauses, glances wryly back at her. "Monsignor Emeritus would call that dangerous thinking." 

Primo would call most things that, these days.

It's been years now since he retired to Ordained Lead of the Philosophical Doctrine—and, as such, overseer of the ritual proceedings. He'd held the title of Papa Emeritus when Mariella first met him, and he'd had the most foreboding presence she'd ever felt: a wraith louring on the Ministry's front steps, his paints jagged as shattered glass, to greet her in all her rain-drenched, luggage-toting misery.

(Ah—you are a blessing to an old man's eyes, Sister. I am pleased to see you have found your way to us. My priestess has told me much of you. He'd turned on his heel, fanning a gnarled hand. Come, come—we have spezzatino going in the kitchens. A room is already prepared for you.)

He was gentler than she expected, but that gentleness cloaked a cynicism that was unyielding as a steel bar. 

He had plenty to say about the flippancies of the new Order. Plenty more to say about the younger faces in the line of his succession—and the third-youngest, with his grandiose visions of reformation, most of all.

"To walk paths unseen is to walk blind in a tunnel," Diana murmurs, and Mariella can hear Primo's inflection in the words, "latching to any light we may find." Glass tinks beneath her fingers. "But that light is not always the surface."

There's a litany of meanings laced between that: that their Order isn't always as it seems; the handed paths, not as distinct as the texts deem them; their Exalted, themselves, not the broken horses they claim to be.

That unknowingness is perhaps the only Truth they have. Their own lowly Sight into what is inherently unseen.

But curiosity has often gotten the best of her.

"How do you know the difference?" Mariella hushes.

Diana turns. Her strong features are softened by the candlelight, sympathetic. "You don't." She lays a warm touch against her temple. "But that is not your burden to bear." 

Mariella worries over her thumb.

With Secondo's own purification, it couldn't have seemed farther from the truth. He was impatient, eager—her own knowledge and magic, one means to a rapid end. The papal seat had been his birthright; the rites, a rancid detour. But he'd been kind, despite his impatience. Forgiving as he could be, for her nervousness.

Diana's thumb smooths over her cheek. "You'll do fine, dearest," she continues. "Remember—you are a conduit. Nothing more."

Swallowing, brow pinched, Mariella nods.

The final stages of their work move quickly: decanters squeaked, vials sealed, a parting slew of advice before the flurry of their steps fall still. 

"Keep the Veil tight about you—you know what will happen, if you don't."

"Right."

"And hold your ground. These halls can be...restless, at such an hour."

"So long as the All-Father isn't sleep-walking in his slippers."

"Mari, be serious."

Mariella's smile blooms, impish, and softens. "I know," she says. "I'm just..."

Green-gold eyes linger over her, steady in their understanding. She reaches down, folds her cool hand within her own. "Have patience," she whispers. "I know it's hard, being so close to the ceremony. But you have nothing to prove, now, right? It's just for formality's sake."

Mariella can't help the bubble of frustration. Her mind locks back on Secondo's stony frown, soaked in a pool of magic ocean-green and effervescent: on the taste of the Past gnawing at her blood.

"And theirs," she says thinly.

For weeks, she's endured a sea of gossip leading up to this ritual. Her peers were convinced that she'd walk away from this with her heart half-eaten, or her sensibility in shreds, wrapped like a ring around their Exalted's finger.

The third heir, notably, was not his brother—not at all, where his coyness was concerned.

Diana battles with her words. "With the Cardinal...I know the other siblings have their, well." Her brows twitch towards her hairline. "Opinions."

That he was a revolutionary, with sermons sharp as a blade, who carried an unsettling edge of authority even the upper clergy, superstitions be damned, dreaded to go toe-to-toe with.

(And, in the same breath, that he was an egregious flirt, and a fool: one who seemed fond of waving at tradition—and any concept of a schedule—from the farthest reaches of the pews.)

Diana plucks the thought from her, clean as a doctor snapping off a leech.

"But," she continues, a touch exasperatedly, "give him grace." Her words falter, stiffen. "Our Order isn't always a kind one," she reminds her, "but we are tasked to carry it out, all the same. So is the Way."

There's a purpose there, beyond any concept of walled rooms and machined profits. One that, for better or worse, has claimed her.

A Veil of magic and tight-controlled chaos, guiding as moonlight and punishing as a forest fire.

So is their role in this blood-bittered, spell-stained sanctuary.

"So is the Way," Mariella echoes.

Diana smiles. Their eyes cling to each other: a final blessing, silent and still, before the cavern of these halls swallow them whole. Then, she slides her hand back to her side.

"Unblessed be with you, Sister."

And, like a shadow, she's gone.

Their Cardinal's reputation, predictably, precedes him. 

It takes an age for Brother Marco, glasses flashing, the scent of rosewater still etched into his robes, to scurry down the North Stairwell and announce that the second cleansing had been completed.

Patience seems all but a foreign concept to Mariella, now—but, willfully, she finds it.

"Thank you, Brother. Will he be able to find his way down?"

"I believe so."

"Then let him know that I am ready for him."

"Certainly."

Marco's footsteps scuff hurriedly back down the hallway and up the crooked stone stairs, happy to avoid any moment in these chambers more than necessary.

Alone again, Mariella fidgets. 

In her hands sit the triplet of vials, fitted into a wooden case to carry. Only candlelight stands to greet her. The walls are threaded with shadows and staccato-bursts of orange flame, damp-dry air mingling off the stones. 

The Ministry's underbelly is unnerving as a crypt. In every web of its grouting lies an ancientness even the scholars of Olde struggle to define. The fires hiss like living things. The archways breathe like the mouth of a giant. In the maze of its passages, magic pulses like blood in a clotted vein.

It takes her a moment to steady herself, remember the route. Her feet carry her in silent strides: two lefts, two rights, one left ducked through a narrow passage, and another, before the corridor opens into the final vestibule of a man-made cave. 

Here, immense as a hall of kings, sits the cistern: one of several thresholds to the Realm beyond. 

Prisms of stone arches stand like golems in the dark, all bearing the reddish gleam of an enchanted flame. At their feet, a pool of water little deeper than a hand trickles from the roots of the mountain's springs. It covers the entire expanse of the cistern floor like a sheet of black-blooded glass. Farther towards the center of the room sits a basin, deep enough to stand at one's waist, where already Diana has placed the initial items for the purification: the Book of Rites, unlit black candles, shards of selenite and quartz.

Thumbs pinched, Mariella makes a mental tally.

In the cleansing chamber, she'd laid out his vestments with the usual care. Thumbed through the unholy texts and spoken her own tithes for using so sacred a place. Asked Lilith's blessing for this final rite, final step into the Path.

Now, she can only wait.

The flames stutter to stillness, and breathe again. Ghosts seem to fade and appear at every turn. 

After so many minutes, the lights have played enough tricks on her—so she pays no mind to the silhouette that hovers just within the vestibule's archway. One that, for not the first time, has a face. 

This one is more severe at the edges: near-feline in its angularity. A face tousled by dark hair, dead-socketed with a white eye.

Mariella nearly jumps out of her skin. "Cardinal. Saints—you're quiet as a cat."

A crescent of teeth blinks back at her. "Eh—sorry, sorry," burrs a low voice. "Habit of mine, it seems."

"Not the first time you've scared the shit out of someone, then?" 

"You talk about shit, Sister? In here?" His grin slants fully at one side. "Blasphemous."

As if a near half-hour delay wasn't blasphemous enough.

One wrist flicks laxly through the dim. "I am late, yes, I know," he prattles on. "Apologies. All the fastings and feastings and washings and rewashings—it is extensive, no? One big glorified bath, they should call these things."

"At least a bit relaxing, I hope?" 

A huff comes before he dislodges from whatever muck has kept him in place. "A pinch. Pinprick, perhaps." He saunters more than walks: heel-toed lazings that draw him, head tilted, into the light. "Though, I don't suppose I would call it relaxing," he grumbles. "My definition of pampering, Sister, means wine and, ah...quite a few other attentions. Chocolates, also—chocolates are good, no?"

She lifts her brows, bemused. "I suppose," she says. "More a fan of panna cotta, myself."

"Feh. Hardly luxurious enough."

The banter only lasts so long. His eyes have strayed to the waters—and hers have turned to scrutiny. 

He's appeared to follow the required conduct, closely enough: the weathered lines of his face bare of any paint, the dark varnish so often chipped on his nails scrubbed clean. He, similarly to her, wears no shoes, no overcoat, none of his usual layers of black upon black upon black—only the white sheen of the Order's purification vestments, embroidered ornately with purple and gold. 

The colors will soon become his, as other colors had ordained his brothers before him.

Colors for penance, absolution, humility.

For sacrifice.

"Tomorrow is a big day for you," Mariella says, after a pause.

Terzo's eyes stutter back to her. "Ah—you must remind me, mh?" Dimples crease in deep-set hooks around his mouth. "Another day and a half of ceremonialness. Satan, I will be decrepit by the time they are finished."

"It's that bad?"

"Darling." He cocks his head on his neck, sharp-browed in silent emphasis. "Have you any idea long the Ascensions last?" 

Mariella can't help the smile that starts. "I can imagine."

"Heh, you can imagine. Forget decrepit—they'll have me in the crypt."

Another shake of his head has thrown his fringe loose. Idly, he thumbs it back. 

Her eyes follow the motion, the looseness of his hands. They're uncharacteristically ringless, now, gloved only in contrasts: dainty wrists smelted to a laborer's forearms, sewn with hair so black it shadows his skin; delicate fingers stained with nicotine, more fit for toolboxes than piano keys.

In another life, he may have been a tall, striking thing, built with slender bones and dancers' limbs to match the grace he carries himself with. But he isn't. Femininity lays strewn about him like carnage from a battlefield, at war with a ruggedness that is all hard edges and soft-stubborn grit. An orchid in full, spiteful bloom, spearing the cracks of an industrial waste.

From all that she's heard, for all his vanity, he doesn't like the way he looks. Never has.

Mariella, like many, has always found it beautiful. 

"Well," she continues, "it's only another day—and it will be over before you know it." He's linked his hands behind his back. She can smell the remnants of the imbued rosewater on his skin, close as he's come sidling and slow-footed to stand with her. "And this will be over before you know it, too." She swallows. "And then you'll be Papa."

Something unearthly fizzles between them: demon-magick that is his own, demon-magick that isn't; the marker of his father's blood, and of the ghouls even the hours of past rites have not been able to wash free from him. 

In his silence is a heaviness. A muted sort of finality.

After a breath, thumb jittering, Terzo hums. "Yes," he agrees. The word sits on the air like a stone. "Seems I will." His soon-to-be title muddles off his lips, venom-sweet and splintered with shrapnel: "Papa Emeritus the Third, they'll call me. Fitting—Third for the third. Suppose it would be a head-scratcher to have the second title go to the first one, and vicey-versa—the old bastard was a goddamn creative with the names, eh?" 

Mariella watches him sway on his heels. "Very...traditional."

"Traditional," he parrots, curling his lip. "Psh. If the All-Father was a manuscript, you'd need archival shitting gloves to turn the pages." 

"High honors to put him in the archives, all things considered."

He squints at her, teasing the start of a smirk. The slightly crooked points of his canines peek over his lip. "Suppose it is, mh?" 

There must be hidden irony in that, something deeper than the surface-level quips Mariella can dissect from him—but she hardly has the chance to think it through. His eyes have popped back to boyish awkwardness: the smirk licked clean, pulled flat again.

"Sorry. I realize I never..." His fingers flutter at his wrist. "You are, ah, Maria, yes? No. Marcella—"

"Mariella."

"Mariella. Yes, yes—it's a thing with the names, sometimes. They just, eh..." His hand dances to an odd gesture. "Poof. You know?"

A smile twitches at her mouth. "Mari is fine, Cardinal."

"Is it? Well, then—much easier for this old brain." He links his hands behind his back again. "And this...Cardinal this, Cardinal that—these formalities are not needed here. Terzo is fine, Sister." He pauses. "Mari."

"Alright." Mariella pauses too, smiles softer. "Terzo."

"Yes, good. Alright." 

His eyes skirt back to the grand arches domed around them, linger unsteadily on the cistern that ebbs beyond the vestibule's edge.

It sews reason back to her—and pulls at an anxious thread.

There are so many steps needed to be completed. Reports she will need to provide. Countless hours of sleep that will inevitably catch up with her, once she slumps back into the dormitories at such a frightful hour. 

All to fulfill the precedents laid down by their Highest—and by Sister, higher still, above him.

To fulfill the birthright of a man peering at her through a shock of black hair, with eyes unmatching: a green flame turned muddy in the red, a white moon smattered with a blood-kissed edge.

"Saints, I'm rambling," realizes Terzo, dryly. "How long have I been rambling?"

"Oh—no, I—it's alright."

He swats the air again. "No no no—you have a job to do, and I am making it wretchedly difficult for you to do it. I will shut up. I'll try. Promise."

The steamroll of his words washes over her like a torrent.

"It's...alright to be nervous," she reasons.

He forces a laugh, little more than a breath. "My brothers were not nervous about this, I assure you."

"Well—you're not your brothers."

She means it as a reassurance—the straight-lined sort she, once, had needed—but he must take the words like a screw to the gut, quick as his brow twitches, as the music in his hands welds still.

"Oh," Mariella flounders again. Her face burns. "I—no, I meant—it's okay if you are, is all."

"Yes, yes, I..." Terzo puts on a small grin, half-genuine. "Forgive me, if the thought makes me, ah...astute, this evening—the old goat has given me enough lectures on my preparedness for this, is all, and it is—has been a...long day, like I...anyways." He rocks back on his heels again, turned away. "Anyways."

Silence weighs between them, unbearable.

Mariella clears her throat. "It's, um...it's only my second time doing this," she admits. Her heel hushes over the stones: the first step towards the vestibule's edge.

"Is it? That must mean Dino was your first—Saints forbid." Terzo puffs out a low snicker. "You are still alive, it seems." He's moved as though to pat a hand on her shoulder, but thinks better of it. In the ritual acts, only she is allowed to touch him. "That, eh—that is a good sign, no?" 

Mariella gives him a playful grimace. "One can hope."

His lashes crinkle at the edges: a lopsided grin that loosens.

Reason seems to crawl back to him, too. With it, the gauze of regality, distraction that had been hanging off his shoulders slips, seemingly just out of reach from his fidgeting fingers.

No Cardinal, no Emeritus, no Papa-elect.

Just a stray without a leash, eyeing the waters before him like a cruel hand waiting to fall.

Whatever he sees in this Path must call to him. Terrify and compel him, in turns. 

He is not at peace with it, now—but he will be.

He has to be, to enter this place.

Beneath the vestibule, the cistern trickles in a silent stream, mirrored with flamelight and red-soaked stone.

"I...don't think I ever caught it," Terzo murmurs. At her feet, his reflection slides beside her own. "What drew you here."

Not, why you chose to come here. Not, why you wanted to.

Few had crossed the wards of this Ministry's grounds of their own volition. The lure of this place held a strange magic of its own. In the seat of its teeth, one's will became its own will; one's path, its own path.

"Sister Diana has mentioned snippets, of course," he continues, "but..."

His eyes lift towards her. Mariella pits her fingers against the carrier.

"Our family worked in art," she explains, "I was surrounded by it, my whole life. I've always had an interest—the occult, especially."

He furrows his brows, intrigued. "Creating it, you mean?"

"No," she laughs. "I'm not an artist, by any means. Dealing it. Mother started a collective in the sixties."

"Ah."

She continues, "There was always an expectation my brother and I would take over the business, and we...I...wanted to see it through." The memory of that chases through her, sweet and acrid as vinegar. "Chained me to a desk, for years," she mumbles. "Even with that, it was never enough."

"For you?"

A frown steeples between her brows. "For her." She shrugs, her words muted. "Maybe for me."

She can feel his eyes lingering on her cheek like a brand. Stubbornly, she keeps her own at her feet.

"She got sick a few years ago. Federico—my brother—wanted out of the business, and it just...I don't know. It changed so much." She pauses, chewing on her lip. "Not having her there to...prove to myself that I could do it—that it was worth it." She can't tamp down the chuckle, bitter as it comes. "It's so strange. You want someone out of your life, for so long—but once they're gone, you realize how much of a crater they left. What a void you have to fill, yourself."

For a long moment, he says nothing. His fingertips pitter at his palm.

"So the magic filled that void, eh?" he mutters.

Mariella smiles. "In some ways."

"Not all?"

"No, not all."

Another pause simmers through him, pensive and puzzling. "I imagine there was a...special quality to it. Working between the artists and the curators and the collectors, I mean. Navigating it." He quirks a brow. "Not much different from the Order, eh?"

Only now, the product is not the artwork their congregation produces—but the needs of their congregation, itself. 

Blessings and charms, incantations and spells, all weaved across their waiting hands like feed to a starved flock. A beacon for souls yearning for a light to guide them, from mountains high to valleys low.

Or, in his case: a silk-robed pinnacle to a cavernous pit.

"No," Mariella says again, "it's not."

He hums.

He's come to stand a touch off-kilter from her, staring down at his robes. In an odd, soft-graveled way, he tries to give the reassurance he's staved his hands from.

"It's all just words and waltzes, these things." His eyes tip cattishly over his shoulder. "You will do exceptional, Mari. You know it, yes?"

She does. 

She must.

"I know."

His smile hangs a touch more genuine at the corners. "Good." Gradually, his hand unfolds from his back: waves to the flickering arches before them. "Well, then?"

It's all the permission she needs.

The water envelops her steps with pinpricks of sensation, slow-slipped and glittering. It calls to her, sings to her: a vessel of endless possibility.

This is her Path. Her purpose. Her home.

Behind her, soon to be, her liege.  

She can hear his footsteps trailing the shadow of her own, his vestments a silken hiss off the water's edge. As it had for his predecessor before him, the cistern hums in its greeting: a millennia of lifetimes past stirred to welcome the presence of the Unholy, of its Keeper.

Hellfire bathes them with red. It sets an eerie glow to his undead eye, blistered in white and gold. For a breath, it's hard to remember that he is human, at all: that the light hasn't stained his skin in blood, taloned his nails with black, twisted his robes to wings claw-tipped and leather-thin.

At the basin, she pauses. He falls still with her—staring down, down at the ebbing coil of waters they come to stand beside.

His throat ripples. He sets his jaw, the dark lines of his lashes lifting. Mariella holds his stare like a rabbit eyeing a wolf from the weeds; like a cub before a lion.

"You've greeted me, in the Olde Way," she says quietly, "and, by Lilith's blessing, will be Renamed. Do you accept it?"

Terzo takes in a breath, nods. "Yes."

"To be the Gate's ward, now and forevermore, until you are called?"

"Yes," he says again.

"To be bound to your summoned, and your summoned only, until they are reclaimed?"

There's a forced calmness to his face, though she can sense the frustration beneath it: proof of battles she has not been privy to, and may never be. "Yes."

"Then we will begin."

First are the black candles—twin flames lit to represent the handed paths. She sets them on the footholds of the two pillars closest, crafting the symbolic Gate between realms, and speaks a low incantation. Then comes the oils, their vials a cold sting against her hands. Each mixture is strategically placed: drops of mugwort to his slow-lifted palms, a thumb-kiss of amber to each temple, the Chrism dotted at the crown of his head.

She can smell his magic, this close: awakened, shivering, unbound: the ashen smoke of a snuffed flame and the sweet tang of clove, spiked with a metallic edge. It has grown stronger since his Exaltation; ignited. It leaves her head heavy, her hands sluggish. There is Future on his breath, and Death in his eye. Beneath his robes, inked across the branches of his heartlines, a glimmer of snapdragon pink.

She fights to ground herself, for a moment. Her palm lays slow, slow upon his breast: feels the power in him straining at the seams.

"Astraeus—Nyx—Perun. These names have adorned you, before. With your Awakening, they will adorn you, again."

He is so warm, always—they all always are—but with the loss of the Veil, he is burning brighter still. Mariella swallows, fighting to keep her aura about her. Her own blessing seeps like mist beneath her hand. 

"Our Lightbringer," she whispers on, trapped in red-green and blood-smattered white. "Our Morning Star."

Terzo's eyes skim between hers.

He is nothing human, now, not with magic so ancient in his veins—as ancient as this place, and the markings of its wards: as wild and cosmic and suffocating. 

Oh, but he feels young. Heartbreakingly young, for the smallest instant.

A child and a Devil and a man, his heart half-beating in his hands.

"Do you accept it?"

Her Cardinal, her Papa-to-be, her Path does not smile, does not look away—not like he had before, in every babbled distraction leading up to this. And, in it, she knows—regardless of whatever his Sight may show him—that he will succeed: that the cause of this Ministry will reach heights never-before seen beneath his hand, and lay the groundwork for even greater heights in his absence.

Mariella does not shy away from his stare, though the spellwork within it threatens to pierce her through. "...Do you accept it?" she whispers, again.

Terzo blinks: green and white and human. His chest swells a slow breath beneath his vestments, ebbs into a silent sigh. "Yes."

The last confirmation. The final rite.

She smiles. "Then only the Realm waits for you."

He looks at her as though he is both lamb and executioner: waiting to be led to slaughter, and to drop the knife.

Her hand hovers before her, a silent offering. 

Slowly, skin soft-roughened and molten, he takes it.

The basin pools around her steps. Her robes tangle stubbornly at her knees as the chill needles through her, slicking the silks to her waist. He follows her unsteadily, his fingers tight through hers.

She can sense the weight of the anointments on him; the wavering of his presence. Half-here, half-wandering, half-living.

"Are you alright?" she asks.

He clicks his tongue. "Alright as I can be."

"Not too torturous, is it?"

"The cold, or the medical proceedings?" Terzo's mouth slants at one side, a wicked glint striking briefly back into his eyes. "I jest, I jest—an image of composure you are, truly. You'll be leading the ceremonies in no time, yes?"

His humor is a flat shield to the tightness in his lungs. His hand swallows hers, hard enough to sting.

"Yes, you'll be fine," he's mumbling on. His eyes are unseeing. Clove and bloodmetal itches in her throat. "You'll be fine."

"Terzo," Mariella warns.

He snaps his eyes shut. Squeezes them. "Sorry." Slowly, stiff as a marionette, his fingers pry their way free from hers. "Sorry, I'm fine." He sighs, blinking. "It's the, eh...it is always like this. It'll pass. Not your fault, darling."

She shouldn't prod, not now. 

But her heart hammers, blisters, bleeds. 

She can't be sure if it's her own.

"What do you...see?" she whispers.

Terzo's eyes flick to hers. His mouth pinches at the corners. "Nothing. Nothing to worry about."

She hesitates. Diana's cautions float across her conscience: the Veil fraying at the seams, close to his own being as this. But, gingerly, her hand lifts from the water, finds his cheek. 

"Any path is Nothing. And any path is All," she says. "I know you know that. You can see it." His eyes fall unsteadily on hers, and Mariella waits, her fingertips skimmed over his skin—worn beyond his age, but soft, still. "You can see that," she says again, "can't you?"

The dark line of his lashes twitch, a beeswing flutter.

Lilith's own, that look must have been the same as hers, all those years ago. The same hope, same hate, same boneless relief.

"You see me," she continues, softly, "don't you?"

His breath mingles with her own, light as a prayer. "Yes."

There's no desire in the way she leans to meet him; no surface-level adoration or simmering need in the touch of her brow to his. Her other hand raises, cups a wet touch over his cheek.

"You'll do fine," she says firmly. "You will."

His brows wrinkle to a knot against her own. He fights with a smile; lets it sag like a stone. "For as long as they'll have me," he mutters.

The inference tears her heart to her feet.

"Don't say that," hisses Mariella—and he's not supposed to touch her, but, at long last, he does: a sunspot warmth of fingertips at her neck, thumbing shaky and half-minded beneath her ear.

A sigh quivers against her lips. "Sorry." The waters are so frigid, but he's warm as a flame in her arms, burning deep as Hell itself. "Sorry, I—"

She shushes him. Holds him—as tightly as she needed to be held that day the call from the hospital came; as tight as she can, for the smallest moment.

Hell below, he feels so small to her now.

Stifled.

His throat hitches against her cheek—but he holds his ground; holds her, hands rough but gentle as he can manage, lost in the sweet tangle of her hair.

"You'll do fine," Mariella whispers again.

There is Future in his touch, and demon-magick in his blood, and hope as much as fear, as wrath, as love.

"I know," he whispers back.

He will. 

He must.

Slowly, they untangle—and though there is still a hand at his cheek, one of his own turning to keep it there, there is nothing more to be said, now. Nothing more to be done.

His Path blazes before him, inevitable.

In her own power, the mould.

"Ready?" she hushes.

Jaw tight, Terzo closes his eyes, nods again.

Her hands slide to his chest, to the back of his head. A cradle and a coffin in one. 

Mariella clears her throat, continuing: "In this final Act, I release you from the realm of the living; I bind you with the realm beyond. In this, you will emerge the Eternal. In this, the Way is sealed."

His magic is fizzling. The cistern is singing. Beneath her hand, tendrils of lilac-fuchsia glisten and glow.

"Unholy be thy name: Revered be thy power." Her palm splays firmer into his sternum. "May you be blessed in the way of the covenant, now and evermore." Terzo takes in a breath, lurched quickly beneath her fingers. The water laps across his shoulders, spills across her wrists. "By his grace, be it commanded." And, in a drowning hush, consumes him.

Unreality pricks at her skin. 

For a heartbeat—fire beneath her palms, and beauty, and nothingness—there are countless paths gnawing at the edges of her consciousness: but she knows, with certainty, there is one—and it is all and nothing and everything, it is Diana and Mother and Primo and herself, dead and alive and dead again, and this man-demon-spirit all omniscient in the tide, and she can't breathe, the Veil spilling like silk from her being, can't separate herself from it—

But she must. 

She must—

Only stillness surrounds her: lightless as the heavens, silent enough to hear a teardrop fall.

She is emptied in it.

She is him, and he is her.

The edges of her magic are wrangled: wrenched back, back around her, tight as a wire—and the tether snaps. Blisters with the breaking of his own body from the basin. 

Together, they breathe as one, a slow-sucked gasp that heaves out thin and clean. 

The light is blinding. There's blood in his eyes.

Mariella, trembling back into her bones, clasps her hands and bows her head low, muttering a deluge of thanks for all that was given and all that remains; a prayer for his strength and sanctity; a cleansing whisper of her own.

His soul is still peeling free from hers. His magic still scalding her hands. 

She won't dare open her eyes again—not yet. What she may find could hardly be called human, in such a state.

But he is—a human with purified waters slicked off the the dark mop of his hair, off the strong bones of his features, off the glimmering silk of his vestments; a man with one eye gleaming moonbeam-white and Hell fading in his veins and breath beastlike in his chest.

"Unblessed be," Mariella whispers. "It is done. It is done."

A hand has come to lay upon her head, heavy and molten. The nails are pointed. The Olde Tongue fangs coarsely off his teeth, commanding the Realm's hold to free her. 

The essence of his magic flees from her bones like a stripped sheet. Air staggers into her lungs, wet and spluttering.

"Sister," Terzo says sharply—and he is as he was: his brow furrowed in worry, human and whole, his palm braced at her temple. "Sister, are—? Mariella—"

"It's alright," she rasps, lacing her fingers through his sleeve. She has to take another breath to steady herself, blinking slow. "It's okay."

His lungs swell beneath his robes. His eyes cut swiftly between hers, denying it still—but, gradually, his shoulders loosen. "Alright." He traces a lock of her hair behind her ear, half-minded. "You are sure?" he presses, anyway. 

"Yes, it—Diana warned me. It's happened before. I let the Veil fall too loose—"

"No, no—you did wonderful. You were clear. You were right there," he says, thumbing her jaw. The shivers are still coursing through him; settling down, now. After a pause: "It is, eh...it is all finished, then?"

Until the tomorrow's ceremonies: the formal ascension, with its blood-marks and dressings, where his body will be kneeled before a black altar and crowned.

But, for tonight, at least—

"It's done," Mariella says again.

The relief washes through him like rainfall: melts the nervousness off his face like sun-warmed snow.

She can smell the exhaustion that ebbs into him; taste the flurried comedown of his spellwork, ashen and bloodied and bright. But it buzzes, burns still.

"Good," whispers Terzo. Twitch-smiled, weary, he drags a hand through his fringe. "Well, eh," he grouses. "Let's get out of this mess then, mh? Freezing my goddamned balls off, in here."

All Cardinal, all Emeritus again.

Primo's office is lit only by moonlight and the glow of a hearth, crackling and warm before him. He's known for a nocturnal mind, and for working by near-vampiric conditions; at such a late hour, the sight hardly comes as a surprise.

Folded behind his desk, his pale hair drawn back, his eyes linger on her, beady as a hawk's. "Well?"

Her last sight of Terzo had come at the threshold of the Ministry's kitchens. He'd insisted on a post-ritual raid—another supposed habit proven true—and, in mutual silence, she'd warmed her hands on a cup of black tea while he wrangled together an unceremonious take on a negroni, orange slices and all, in an old coffee mug. He'd slipped a package of biscoff in her pocket and a cigarette from his own. Around a snap of violet flame at his palm and a final sip of her tea, they'd given their partings.

"If you...need anything at all," Mariella had hushed, "you can—"

"I know." His mouth had wavered at a smile. "Thank you."

Part of her had wanted to lay a hand on his arm. Say something else, anything, to not just leave it at that. And, were it a different night—or if she was a different sibling—he may have slid the invitation over, for her.

But the warmth of his body had shifted, ever since he dragged himself out of those waters, reclothed himself in a thrush of black. Cold and closed as a cage.

The man she'd held was in the cracks of it; boxed away, now, to make room for another, still sketching the edges of itself in his skin. But, in its chrysalis, she saw bitterness—in his distance, the fanged thing their clergy so seemed to loathe—and, on some hare-boned instinct, found herself leaving first.

"Goodnight, Papa." 

She'd said it reflexively, already knee-deep in the coming customs of propriety. 

Over a pop of blue smoke, hissed lightly through his teeth, he'd looked away. The tobacco was the same that stained the air in Sister Imperator's office: woody, cheap, earthen.

"Not yet," he'd rumbled. His lips twitched around the cigarette. "Tomorrow." His stare had haunted her steps, seeing and unseeing. The smoked husk of his breath had chased her off the walls. "Night, Sister."

Now, as ordered, she's returned the required items to Primo's care. With it, a report.

"The proper precautions were taken," she says. "All in all, it went as predicted."

Primo ticks a thin brow. She can feel the cold claw of his Sight in her, rummaging through her mind like clothes on a shelf. "And how was the offering received?"

Mariella swallows, thinking back to the Realm's magic, the spellwork beneath her hands. "No changes from the previous purification."

Idly, Primo glances at a set of a files on his desk; skims one sheet a touch higher. For a moment, he stews in his thoughts. Then, clean as a dagger: "Is he confident?"

Her eyes snap up. His own, silver-blue and white, meander to meet them.

"Yes," she says steadily.

He squints at her. Winter frost in her lungs, winter eyes piercing her through. But, eventually, she is freed from it.

"Very well," he mulls. He gathers up the sheets, settles them into a clean stack. "Then I will see you bright and early, my dear. Another long day ahead of us." 

Mariella nods, pinches her nails into her hands, and moves to stand from her seat.

Before she reaches the door, he speaks again.

"Mariella." She glances back at him, hunched like a strange, battish thing over his desk, his bony hands folded. He studies her like a portrait littered with fine details: one of many in a precious collection. His mouth makes an odd twist. "You did well," he lands on, eventually.

"Sir...?"

A smile blinks, cool and plain. "It is not an easy Sight to bear. There is a certain strength required to carry it. More, perhaps, to guide it."

The admission weighs strangely on her. Picks at her.

He unfolds his hands, weaves them again, before reorienting on his work. "Sleep well, Sister."

Slowly, Mariella turns back to the door. The handle stings beneath her palm. "Goodnight, Monsignor."

The morning's gossip will claim that Primo stalked the gardens that night, winged as a beast. That an apparition trailed his steps, feline-footed and hazed with blue. That their Papa-to-be was seen crawling out of the ghouls' chambers at dawn, reeking of celestial bodies and muddied magic.

Mariella won't give it any mind. She's learned enough now to take such chatter with a grain of salt.

All that will matter will be her hand on the chapel door, Diana's light a calming grace beside her: bathed in the sun's glow, freshly robed, carved in black and white; the two of them, and a sea of others, there to greet the sanctity of their Beholder.

Her skull-paints will match the adornments of his own. The black leather of her gloves, a mirror to the claw-tipped pair that will gloss across his knuckles. He will wear vestments dark as ink, adorned with Death's imagery, lined with a purple fit for kings—and at her side, he'll pinch a soft touch at her wrist. Flash a smile.

Back in his bones, in full.

Glittering and golden.

"Hello, Papa."

His lashes will crinkle at the edges. "Enchantée, darling," he'll purl. "I mean, eh—Sister. Marcie, right? No. Marnie—"

"Mari."

"Mari, aye. Right, right, right."

Still Cardinal, still Emeritus, always.

[yanderecrazysie]

Hi,I love your writing style it is a truly a masterpiece, and you work so hard you definitely deserve more💖😩 away-

Can I get a one-short,Yandere Tobio Kageyama with a darling who is a tsundere?

Thanks!

Take your time!

I wasn’t really sure how to write a tsundere reader, but I did my best- she turned out kind of mean ;-; Also thank you for such sweet words!

Title: It’s Not Like I Like You

Pairings: Kageyama Tobio x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, tsundere reader, swearing, insults to reader, reader gets drunk

Summary: It’s not easy to love a tsundere, but Kageyama does just a little too much.

“Hey! I can kick your butt even in this dress!

Ugh! I digress! So let's just go to the park I guess

Pff, you wouldn't even know what to bring

Oh, come on, will you please just say yes?”

-From “It’s Not Like I Like You!!” by Static-P

“You think I’d be impressed by something like this?” You asked with an upturned nose.

The poor guy confessing to you looked down at the bouquet of roses in his hands as though they had betrayed him, “But your cheeks are flushed-”

“You think some lousy flowers are enough to get a girl? Get real!” You stamped your foot, rubbing at your cheeks furiously, “And they aren’t flushed, it’s your imagination.”

“You know what?” The boy glared at you, “You’re kind of a bitch.”

A look of hurt flashed across your face, before the mask rose once more, “I couldn’t care less about what you think of me.”

“Whatever,” the boy snapped, throwing the flowers on the ground and storming away.

You stood there for a moment, looking down at the roses. Finally, you wrinkled your nose and strode away.

Kageyama watched it all from behind a tree. He pulled out his notebook and wrote down “doesn’t like flowers”. The notebook was filled with notes on what you did and didn’t like. The “doesn’t like” list was much longer than the “does like” list, since you rarely accepted anything except from your friends.

Kageyama knew that you had a secret soft side that you were trying desperately to cover up. More than anything else in the world, he wanted to have that side all to himself. 

You were beautiful, so you had no shortage of boys wanting to ask you out. You turned them all down, but Kageyama could tell that, deep down, you were flustered by their confessions. To the untrained eye, you seemed heartless, but he knew the truth.

You were just scared, weren’t you?

Kageyama was sure he could take good care of you- give you exactly what you wanted. However, he knew if he asked you out, you’d turn him down like everyone else.

You were only friends with other girls, so he couldn’t hope to slip into your life as a friend. It was frustrating to watch from the outside, especially with Hinata and Tsukishima making jokes about his hopeless crush during volleyball practice.

The rejected boy had disappeared and you were finally on your way home. Kageyama knew the way, but he trailed behind you as though it was the first time he had followed you home. You popped in some earbuds and began to listen to music. Kageyama put one of his own in, pretending like he was listening to the same music as you were (it was a copy of your playlist, at least), but left one of his ears free. He needed to be alert.

You were so oblivious to the fact that you were being followed home. You never even looked back when you slipped into your house and went up to your bedroom. Kageyama climbed the tree near your window and watched as you lay down on your bed, pulling out your phone and messing around on it.

His eyes softened. He liked to see you like this, relaxing in your natural habitat. No more raising walls and putting on masks- just you.

He wouldn’t have expected himself to become like this- a lovesick stalker. He wasn’t the type.

But maybe his cool exterior was hiding something too, you know.

—-------------------------------------------------------

Kageyama wasn’t the type to go to parties, but this one was specifically thrown for the volleyball team, so he was expected to be there.

Then again, he didn’t think you were the type to go to parties either, and here you were, drinking the punch like you needed it more than air. Kageyama could overhear you talking to your friends.

“It’s not like I wanted to go,” you hiccuped, “I just came so you guys wouldn’t be alone.”

Your friends exchanged looks, “Suuure, and you definitely weren’t grinning like an idiot on the way here.”

You turned away and crossed your arms, refusing to dignify your friends with an answer. They burst out laughing and, with flushed cheeks, you giggled along. 

It was cute. You were cute.

Kageyama grabbed a cup of punch and downed it. He needed liquid courage to approach you.

Before his eyes, you grew tipsier and tipsier. To Kageyama’s fury, another guy approached you. He couldn’t tell what was being said, but your friends left to give you two privacy. He could see you mouth something before the boy grabbed your arm and started to drag you away. Fear flashed in your eyes as you let out a whimper.

Kageyama seized the guy’s arm and twisted it until he released you with a cry of pain. He looked ready to say something until he met Kageyama’s gaze.

The tall setter’s eyes were like ice and his glare burned holes into the smaller boy. The boy backed away and disappeared into the crowd. Kageyama glared after him before turning back to you.

He was surprised to see tears running down your cheeks, despite your protests, “I didn’t n-need your help, I had it under c-control.”

Kageyama shrugged, still looking down at you. You were trying so hard to keep your walls and mask up, even though it was just you and him. Didn’t you know you didn’t have to pretend with him?

You averted your gaze, “But thank you. I mean, I guess.”

A small smile spread across Kageyama’s lips. For now, that was enough.