#and at first I only noticed the two blue ones

[madamechrissy]

Mafia! Prettyboy Gojo headcanons

Pairings: Mafia Boss Gojo x bartender F! Reader

EXPLICIT- MDNI- sexual content, oral (m and f recieving) fingering, teasing, lowkey obsessed Gojo behavior (he's whipped)), ❄️ drug use, mafia ties/drug dealinggg, mentions of blood and violence, strip club/mafia AU. This will be a new story for Gojo from Pour it Up (Stripclub owner Sukuna x reader)- likely a mini series- I would suggest reading it too so you'll see his personality, but can be a standalone

comment to get on the taglist for the full version!!

Mafia! Pretty Boy Gojo who just finds everything so boring, even snorting lines off pretty stripper's bodies, even drinking with his best friend and partner in crime, Suguru. These meetings and those things, and this job, and this drop, blah. Negotiations!? Pfft. No he wants something fun and no amount of fruity drinks or sugar up the nose is cutting it anymore.

Mafia! Pretty Boy Gojo has his drink getting filled by one dancer, sipping it and finding it much too harsh, he stands up then, as Sukuna chuckles 'need it even more of a lil bitch drink?' Satoru rolls his blue eyes, flipping Sukuna off then saying 'it's not sweet enough!' Satoru walks out into the humming club then, faltering as he sees a girl that must be new, in a black bra, black booty shorts and fishnets that are glowing under the blacklights. His eyes trail slowly up and down her body, filling him with filthy images as he finally meets her eyes- your eyes.

Mafia! Pretty Boy Gojo who is usually so cocky and arrogant just stands there for a minute, like you're bringing him right out of some haze he's been in, as he feels your eyes looking right back, nervous smile on your pretty face. 'New here, sweetheart?' he asks, voice husky and deep, probably the prettiest damn person you've ever seen, for a moment you can't answer, blue eyes swirling and bright even under the club's dark lights and through the smoke and fog, you feel his gaze on your body as you're leaning over the side of the bar. 'I am new'

Mafia! Pretty Boy Gojo can't get your name out of his mind, as you bite your lower lip, focusing on making his drink - 'the first of the new job, you're special' you tease, and Satoru manages to get some of his charm together, chuckling as he leans over the bar. 'I am special, hmm?' you wonder why he wants that many sugary concoctions in one drink, but god it's the best drink, and he has to murmur 'bet you taste even better' earning your blush even under the flashing lights, 'huh?' he just brushes back your hair, smirking before he walks off, bombarding Sukuna with questions about you.

Mafia! Pretty Boy Gojo specifically requests you sit with him during the next meeting, as they discuss the Zenin family and the Kamo family, two other big names in the Mob scene, but now he gets to focus on you, as he decorates your collarbone with snowy powder, snorting it off you, while you can't stop a little whimper. No one hears it but him, and it makes him feral, cock throbbing as your hips shift, his eyes notice every movement until they close, and he licks the residue off your throat, hot tongue making your mind go insane with images of just what that long pink tongue can do.

Mafia! Pretty Boy Gojo finds these meetings about the business so much more fun now, but instead of looking at any of the strippers, he's only looking at you, at your pretty eyes, plump lips parted as you look at him, and he wonders how pretty you'll look cumming just for him. When they're all leaving the meeting in the VIP room the next time, you can't stop yourself, sitting on his damn thigh, wetness making your panties sticky, and you look at him then. 'Need something, sweets?' he murmurs, smirking like an arrogant little ass, as his hand slips up and down your thigh, and he's been edging you for just too long, so you break - 'touch me, please Mr. Gojo'

Mafia! Pretty Boy Gojo dies internally at your request, precum already making his boxers stick as he finds your clit under this slutty skirt you have on, rolling a fingertip over a twitchy clit, and your head falls back, 'mnh, s'good!' you whine, grinding on his thigh, but it's just not enough for Satoru, he turns you so you're straddling him on this red velvet couch, he looks dangerous but somehow sweet, as you clutch his suit jacket, and he sinks two fingers in your cunt, pressing against that spongy spot in your slick walls, making your cunt drool down to his pretty silver rolex, those sleeves of his coated with you as you roll your hips, moaning, back arching - 'shh, sweets, don't want anyone t'hear this slutty cunt, hmm?'

Mafia! Pretty Boy Gojo has the most ridiculous, long thick fingers you've ever felt, you're closer and closer as he continues curling them inside your eager hole, your lips just a breath from his as your hands now enwrap in his silky white locks, grinding even more on his hand, as he chuckles softly, his breath ghosting over your lips. 'need me to play with that little clit, too?' you nod weakly - 'sure things, pretty girl, there you go, that's it' you're shattering now, and Satoru is watching, while his thumb presses over your twitchy clit, and you're cumming so hard you feel dizzy, pussy pulsing and dripping down his fingers, trembling thighs on either side of him.

Mafia! Pretty Boy Gojo sighs at how pretty you are, slipping those two fingers in your mouth, smirking and murmuring 'suck them clean, be a good girl for me' and you eagerly obey, before he grabs your hair by the nape of your neck, slamming your lips down on his. You both get interrupted by a very amused Sukuna then, who says 'let her get to work Satoru, or you need to get behind the bar and shake your ass' Satoru chuckles as you're blushing furiously, and he helps you adjust your skirt and panties, 'give her the day off tomorrow, I'll pay to cover someone' Sukuna sighs 'whatever' he grumbles, you blink then, looking down at his grinning face 'Satoru I can't afford to take off' he doesn't know the bills you have, the situation you have to take care of with your family, to help them, he sighs then 'I'll pay you four times your shift to just date me'

Mafia! Pretty Boy Gojo has never really gone on a date, no he just has girls on his arm, under him on his bed, he certainly didn't have to even try to do something like offer money, but he'd offer anything for a chance at you. You all don't end up going anywhere, though, because once you're in the back of Satoru's limo, and he's doing a line off your inner thigh, he starts licking at it, and before you know it he's dragged your panties off, burying his pretty face right in your pussy. 'ah, Mr. Gojo!' he leans up as he swipes the flat of his tongue from your drooling little hole to your clit, pressing a kiss on it 'Satoru, while you're cummin' all over m'face, hmm baby? taste s'fucking sweet' Satoru dives back in and the sounds of him slurping you up are obscene

Mafia! Pretty Boy Gojo licks and sucks your clit, humming on it until you're shattering, cumming so hard you see stars, then you're riding him right in that limo, struggling to take his huge cock, as it stretches your tight little pussy out, veiny and thick and sloppy, he moans into your mouth as your walls tighten around his cock, as he slams up endlessly into your pretty cunt over and over. You're on your knees, sucking his cum off him, off his pretty pink tip, before you're on your knees right in the plush limo seat, and he's hitting it from the back, making you cry out 'Satoru!' which makes him bust again, inside you so deep, pulling out and watching your arousal and his cock drip down so messy, before he scoops his sticky cum and shoves it back inside you.

Mafia! Pretty Boy Gojo can't stop thinking of how good it looked, your pussy sucking up the cum so greedy, when he sees you the next day at your work, and it's not long until he's behind the bar, eating your pussy that he cannot get enough of, all while you're trying to work, you're so cute trying to mix a drink when his tongue is on your clit, and you're squeaking at him, 'Satoru, s-stop' but he can't stop. He's got your panties in his pocket, he'll keep them for later, you shouldn't worry about that, but you're trembling with nerves and fear when he runs out to deal with the Zenin bullshit with everyone, worried about things you don't fully know yet.

Mafia! Pretty Boy Gojo is dying to get back to you, he doesn't wanna deal with all this shit, he just wants to drink you up more, but here he is, as he deals with some of the bullshit that the Zenins are doing, he can't stand them then, when he has to actually show them just who and what the Gojo family is. When he is covered in blood, him, Suguru, Toji and Sukuna come back to the club, exhausted, when you see him you blink back tears, and he murmurs 'come to my place, clean me up?' He is exhaling and shooting that smirk, but there's so much behind it, you see now. You eagerly obey, realizing you both don't know anything about each other yet, as you're bandaging his pretty face, all cut up, in his pristine bathroom, and you're wondering just what it is that Satoru has gotten into, but for now you both just kiss, his blood tangy against your lips, as his kiss gets hungry, desperate, and he murmurs 'I need you'

Mafia! Pretty Boy Gojo He's smearing that blood across your pretty tits as he has you right on his bathroom counter, knowing he'll do anything to protect you, to keep you, from shit you will now get into for being with him, cupping your face as he fucks into you, and your eyes roll back in your skull, covered in Satoru's spit, his blood, now his precum as he's pumping in and out of you, knowing he certainly can't let you go, but he also can't let anyone know you're his weakness.

Comment to get tagged when this is a full story hehe- prob gonna be a good 30k long or more knowing me, Satoru is gonna be kinda insane <3

permatags: @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @indiewritesxoxo @nanasukii28 @makingtimemine @cuntphoric @loafteaw @aldebrana @n1vi @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays  @designerpvssy @moonlitwitchdaisy -@harpersbazaaruhatake @strychnynegirl @jinjen - taglist for this already - @moonchhu @thikcems (and I know @antisocialinlw and @alygator77 will wanna see hehe)

[pricetagged]

MEDIEVAL SCAMMER GHOAP?! Please enlighten us🙏🙏🙏

Since you both asked so nicely, have a snippet of a whisp of a concept😅

I have an idea. Not fully fleshed out. I could go in two directions, either historical Ghoap working as Pardoners and taking advantage of ignorant village reader (corruption kink, religious themes, abuse of power etc.).

OR, for my monster-lovers, has anyone seen Dragonheart? I was picturing, like, one of them is something beastly, the other plays at knight = profit? Fantasy scam and rescue? So, it would go something like this:

(Tw kidnapping and kind of mean Ghoap)

---------

Your situation didn't look any better flipped on its head. Flipped on your head, rather. Snatched and thrown over a bulky shoulder, high– higher than even your standing position. It was discomfiting; it was terrifying. Blood rushed to your face not only in fury but also in shame as your skirts fluttered in the breeze.

He noticed, too. His greedy fingers dug into your thighs, skimming down like he was soothing a skittish horse. But you felt the way he lingered. The way he chuffed and squeezed tighter when you kicked out with all the strength of a skittish colt.

Your fists pounded uselessly against heavy splint-mail, hands-catching on rough nodules and spikes that didn't quite register as pain. Not to your panic-stricken mind, thoughts flying off in the wind behind you as the beast carried you off.

But the smack registered.

Perhaps it was the sound, the harsh slap of flesh on flesh. Whipping crack, like the snapping of a great branch. The precursor to an eerie stillness, violence begetting obmutescence. And it worked–

–for a second. For the time it took for your stinging nerves to catch up with your racing mind. Then you howled. Kicked and clawed and hissed like a feral cat as tears welled in your lash-line.

"How dare you–"

"Quit yer fashin'. Ye'll bring the whole kingsguard down this way–"

"–good–"

"–and then I'll have tae kill them all," That had your attention, legs tense under the heavy band of his bicep. "Dinnae much feel like sharin' ye around."

"Oh, you beast! You foul, vile, disgusting–" Your voice was high, words scratching as they hitched out of your aching throat.

It hurt to speak, vocal cords already shredded from the way you'd screamed when he'd first ransacked your village. Coughing on heavy, acrid smoke and crying futile warnings about the Black Knight and his monster-in-arms ('Quiet, girl. Viper-tonged harlot, slither off and for gods' sake, quiet!') . But it hurt more to be silent. You flung insults like broken arrows, hoping that they would somehow land. That they would hit, fortuitously, and pierce the thick-hide of this brute. But hope is vain, and the fancies of men make gods laugh.

You landed hard on something soft.

Ego almost as bruised as your knees, you kept your eyes low. Sweeping. Marshy, wet silt. Topsoil sluiced off, only mud and clay and reeds to your right. A cheerfully babbling brook just beyond, water murky and discoloured with backwash from– the water flowed past the estuary of the village so it must be– no–

The realisation was caustic. Mordant. Burning at you like the scorched air in your lungs.

"You're a monster," you spat the words, mouth watering in your haste to let ichor drip forth and blacken him as much as the foul, brackish water ahead.

"Noticed that, did ye," he laughed, words glancing off like feeble blows. "Best not tae piss me off, then. Stay there and behave yersel'. Company's comin'."

Glancing up at him was like a blow to the stomach, wind punched out and body shaking. You already knew that he was big, inhuman. But now you could see every inch; monstrous, twisted mockery of natural features. Like a man formed of rock, too immense and hard and jagged to pass for anything but artificial. Counterfeit. Contranatural. Creation's bastard. All tusks and teeth and shorn hair. Hair everywhere, even down his bare, bulging forearms and thick knuckles. Coarse, dark.

His eerie, bright blue eyes blazed around black, pupils wild and blown. It could be the thrill, cruel playfulness of an apex predator. Berserker-wide, coming down from the kill–

But he'd been carrying you for a while, bloodlust long-since sated on the men and manse of your homeland.

You shivered, sweat and cold mingling in a discomfiting damp that raised the hairs on your arms. (The hairs on the back of your neck were already needle-stiff and prickling).

You pocketed a stone, a big jagged filthy shard. One you hoped could bruise and slash and poison, turn wounds weeping and sick.

Now that you were silent, he seemed especially strident, swaggering around the barebones of what you supposed must be a dwelling. You felt the slight whistling of air from the cave behind, cavernous and black. If you had to run, to hide, you'd take your chances with the forest and river ahead. To be lost in the appetites of the mountain abyss would spell death as surely as at the hands of this creature.

You watched him, cocksure and comfortable as he shucked off his warhammer and began unbuckling his braces. If you could read the snarl of his crooked teeth, you'd perhaps say he was in high spirits. He sent you a wink as he shrugged off his splint-mail, gravelly laugh echoing in the cavern behind.

It disguised the approach of your visitor.

"Grabbed the wrong one, Johnny," you shrieked as something grabbed your forearm, hauling you up. Looking down you saw the muted sheen of a spiked gauntlet. Black patina, flaked in iron rust. You swallowed hard, lump in your throat so big that it caught any words that might try to escape. Him. The Black Knight. The Liar. 

"Ye said to grab the pretty one by the fancy house."

"She's not the magistrate's daughter. No ransom for her." He spun you around, metal biting hard into your chin as he arched your face towards his.

Cloaked in ink-black helm and visor, you could just about peer in to meet his gaze. He looked back with cold, assessing eyes. The voice that rumbled forth was as harsh and breccial as you remembered, words rending you apart with serrated precision: "Not worth a rescue mission."

He released your chin with a final shake of your head, huffing amusement as you rubbed at the thin scratches he left behind.

It was hard to breathe now, stomach swirling and head-light. Even if you could will yourself, it wouldn’t help. There was already a faint coppery smell leeching from the Knight; your heart recognised it even if you would not give name to it. It sped up, fast enough to rush past your ears with discordant force. 

You didn’t feel the other one step up behind you, not until it was too late. There, trapped between man and monster (man the monster), tight enough that you couldn't even shiver. You felt the power of the creature even more now without the armour, all muscle and fat, sheer power close enough to sink your fingers into. But you couldn't move, your shallow breaths already catching in your throat into soft, hitching whines. 

"Shh, it's alright, bonnie," Rough, clumsy fingers swiped under your eyes. You felt him crouch lower, stubbly hair and tusks digging into your powder-soft cheek. "Looks like we're gonnae have tae keep you, then."

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

[yey56]

HARLEY SAWYER X PSYCHOLOGIST READER

HEADCANNONS: before Leiths backstabbing

When Pierre Leith first introduced you both when you were working in the project "bigger bodies" he though it would be good to have Sawyer a little bit more controlled. Your personality and insistence on defying authority made you a good match.

Little did he knew that eventually you would actually start getting along with the doctor, which meant that he had two insubordinate pricks to worry about.

Reader does have compassion and some kind of affection towards Doey, but they ignore it in favour of their own ambitions and the project.

Thats the reason they try not to use cold as much with Doey, only when it's really necessary.

Before your friendship/companionship started to develope, the doctor usually appeared more to respond to Pierre's demands or to talk to the executives but since he doesn't really like doing it and does it out of obligation, he often ask you to talk on behalf of both of you.

That's how the scientific team, the specialist, Pierre, Ludwig and other coworkers started getting used to you being basically the voice of Sawyer outside the lab.

You had enough trust on each other to be able to talk in behalf of the other. (Mostly you since Harley doesn't seem to eager to socialise).

At first, when Doey was recently woken up and he still was getting used to their new body. You and Sawyer would go together to the interviews to record the development of the experiment. Some day out of the blue, Doey started to react aggressively to the doctor, only to him so he started to avoid going to the interviews with the mass and stayed in the observation room.

The doctor sometimes gets actually happy about some improvement his experiments may have but he expressed it with a poker face, a raised brow and the slightest change in his voice.

*Yarnaby actually starts listening for once*

Sawyer: ah, that's so interesting-actually glad for once-

(Y/N):are you actually happy or you're just being awfully sarcastic??

You never actually talked about what you guys like in terms of food or drinks so since sometimes you went to the cafeteria in the upper levels to get some food, your started to bring him random stuff for him to try and watch his reaction in order to find out what he liked. Basically using him as a guinea pig with trial and error.

Harley suspects that that's the reason you've been bringing random stuff with you and offering it to him.

I think he has certain favouritism for Yarnaby so sometimes he makes you test him more than usual even though he knows that he won't get a different response from the yarn lion other than animal like reactions. With time it just turned into an excuse to spend time with you. Your company is actually enjoyable after all.

You both are difficult people to deal with in a work environment. You both like control over things and you are both willing to go to any lengths to reach your ends.

This also comes with certain differences that sometimes makes both your works a little bit unbearable. On one hand we have you, you tend to joke and slip sarcastic comments here and there without any filter, you're cunning, more than he initially assumed. Harley is not used to this so it makes him get really irritated when you don't seem to take something seriously, even though he respects your lack of filter in everything you say.

On the other hand, there's him, he's controlling and he gets easily angry. He's used to be in control so he tends to lash out whenever he's not the one in charge, a very self centered man. It never fails to annoy you how sometimes he just forgets that you're working there two. This was more noticeable during your early ages working together.

With time you have learned to adapt to each other in order to obtain better productivity. But still sometimes you get on each others nerves.

When it comes to physical contact, you guys are basically the definition of touch starved. Some more voluntarily than others...

But just there are moments when Sawyer can feel your hands brush against his when your passing him the paperwork about the experiments, or how your knees graze slightly when you're seated next to each other in the observation room.

You can feel sometimes his breath against your neck since the doctor doesn't know the meaning of personal space. You are inspecting the experiments from a footbridge and the doctor just stands right there, behind you, observing in silence.

And his voice, you have catched yourselves zooning out hearing at his smooth silky voice. When he spoke to Yarnaby like a pet or when he named the a list of experiments that he was expected to operate that day. The tone of his voice was like a kiss to your ears.

Once he fell asleep in his chair after days of exhausting procedures and since the air conditioner was to high and you couldn't really afford to keep up with the business rate without the doctor, you decided to put your own jacket on his shoulders and retired his glasses to the side of his desk.

When he woke up, he silently put your jacket back in your shoulders, his touch lingering way to long

Headcannons about the reader and the doctors relationship pre transformation. Part two of the fanfic I made is in progress...

I also redesigned the doctors human form: tell me what do you think??

[maxriss]

⋆˚࿔ UH HUH — LN4

Lando Norris x reader / headcanons / library

Syn. Lando Norris and his extremely attractive habit of saying uh-huh aka maxriss pining over the little things Lando Norris does <3 [F, slight M]

Lando Norris was known for many things — his f1 career, the way he smelled of expensive colognes, the girls he went home with, djing in random clubs — I knew him for something else entirely.

From the way he hummed, the slight nod of his head, the lazy of hum of his response.

“Uh huh”. I’m floored.

The cooped up cafe near the campus was filled to the brim during exam szn, my head propped up on a redbull can as my fingers typed away when I heard it for the first time. The light hum of a boy followed by a laughter “uh huh”.

That one sound had me whipping my head too fast for my liking, making the boy turn to me as well. Lando Norris. Turned my head, only to meet those blue-green eyes, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned against the counter, watching me.

It wasn’t fair a pretty boy could make pretty noises.

I thought about it more than I’d like to admit. Ofcourse it was flirty and cocky. Ofcourse it was a narcissistic trait from him. Ofcourse I wanted him to tut at me before kissing me breathless.

Oh my days.

I noticed the way he would say, the ways he would say it and when he would. It was Lando Norris — the campus playboy — I was writing my own heartbreak.

You could always tell Lando’s mood by the way he says uh huh. If it’s drawn out and lazy, he’s tired or teasing you. If it’s quick and clipped, he’s distracted. And if it’s low and deep? Yeah, that one gets to me every time.

The smirk that always accompanied it, his eyes dark and low — oh to be looked at that way.

He oftentimes flexed his jaw before saying it and that one had me licking my lips.

I caught him this one time in the cafeteria talking to his friends — oddly one of them flashing his bunda to him — when Lando laughed facing my side and poked his cheek with his lips before throwing out the sexiest uh-huh I’d ever heard and lord save me for I’ll sin for this man.

I hated that it affected me—how something as simple as two syllables could make me weak.

Then there was time I heard it in the library, late at night, when he walked past my table and smirked at the book in my hand. “That any good?” he asked, and when I hummed in response, he me you that look and murmured, “Uh huh.”

I SWEAR HE DID IT INTENTIONALLY.

The stolen glances. The teasing. The way he’d find me in crowded rooms, gravitate toward me like he couldn’t help it.

And then — then it happened.

A study session in his dorm, both of us sitting on the floor, books long forgotten.

He was too close. His hand brushed mine, and neither of us moved away.

My breath hitched. His eyes flickered to my lips.

He leaned in. I swore the air crackled between us, heat simmering, everything about to change—

But then… a knock at the door.

He pulled away fast, running a hand through his curls, clearing his throat like it hadn’t just happened.

And then he exhaled, shaking his head with a small, knowing smile.

“Uh huh.”

reblog and follow <3 all rights reserved ©maxriss please do not copy, save, or translate my stories. this is no place for hate and violence, kindly maintain love and peace.

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

I don’t know if requests are still open but if they are can I request Agatha taking reader with her strap for first time?

Thank you

Back in the Closet Part 2 !NSFW!

Agatha Harkness x fem!Reader

Part 1

Warnings: Plot? What plot? SMUT-softish smut (??? it's not too rough but there's fluff), strap-on use (R receiving), oral (R receiving), fingering (both receiving), wine use and drunk sex, lotta eye contact, I think that's it??? idk it's not beta read

A/N: I think this is by far the best and hottest thing I have ever written (Thank you Wellbutrin and my unbelievably high libido). I decided to incorporate this ask into a requested part 2 for Back in the Closet so I do hope you enjoy and the song for this chapter is absolutely Slumber Party by Britney Spears!

“Are you sure?”

You smiled gratefully at Alice, but still declined, “I’m sure. I’d rather just stay the night and drive home in the morning.”

“Okay,” she smiles back. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

After hugging the coven goodbye with kisses on their cheeks (and a skeptical glance from Lilia), you shut the door and staggered back to Agatha’s living room. It was almost one in the morning and the height of your drunken stupor was slowly tapering off, but you were still uncoordinated enough to bump into the couch before bending over to clean up the aftermath of the party.

You could feel Agatha’s eyes on you before she even spoke, “You don’t have to do that.”

When you stand back up and turn around, you feel your chest warm and mouth go dry, not having a single thought but of her hands on you. Her eyes, so blue, were now dark with desire and clouded over with inebriation and you fidget with the empty wine glass that you had picked up. 

Agatha walks over, her hips swaying, and stops just barely two feet from you. Her hand reaches over to the side table and wraps around the body of a wine bottle. And while keeping eye contact with you, she tips the rim of the bottle into her mouth to take a long drink of it. 

Your breathing speeds up–quite noticeably as Agatha’s smirk grows wider. She sets the bottle down slowly and steps closer to you, looking down at your lips before back up into your eyes, “You don’t have to clean up.”

Her voice is low and breathy and you can smell the scent of wine that radiates from her. When her hands come to your hips and pull you right against her, a chill runs up your spine. Your lips are mere inches apart and it takes everything in you to keep eye contact with her.

“Is there…something else you’d rather me do?” you ask, innocence lacing your voice that she knew wasn’t as pure as it sounded.

Agatha hums, “Well, I believe I promised you more than what happened in that little closet.” Her hands run up and down, memorizing the curve of your hips and waist. 

“You did,” you agree. “And I don’t think you should go back on that promise.”

There are no words exchanged after that when Agatha finally caves in. She’s passionate, her lips warm against yours with the taste of cabernet sauvignon dripping from them. You set the empty glass down on the coffee table beside you without breaking the kiss and you pull her closer.

Everything around you seems to melt away when you’re in Agatha’s arms. 

The only thing your ears can register over the heady mix of wine and lust is the sound of heavy breathing. Your lips are just barely brushing each other as you both cling to one another, “Do you–um–” You can hardly think properly. “Do you wanna go upstairs?”

Agatha grins against your lips and your noses brush against one another. “Sure,” she says, pulling away and walking towards the stairs. Before you’re completely out of her sight she looks back at you, “Oh, bring the wine.”

She winks and then turns back around and ascends the stairs. This is going to be a long night.

Wine in hand, you enter Agatha’s room. It feels weird–like an invasion of her privacy despite the fact that she clearly wanted you there. You smile to yourself as you see the unmade bed and the clutter on her nightstands and the folded clothes on the top of her dresser waiting to be put away. Agatha, who is so private, is offering you a glimpse into her life.

You walk over to the side of her bed and let your eyes roam over the nightstand. Among the golden light of the lamp is a digital clock, a pack of hair ties, a pair of reading glasses, an unplugged phone charger, and, the one thing that truly catches your eye: the book that you had recommended to her with a bookmark toward the very end of it. 

You know damn well where you’ll be within the next fifteen minutes, but this–the fact that Agatha listened to you and your interests–that made your cheeks warmer and made your heart flutter more than the thought of her face between your legs.

The book is in your hands and you’re smiling as you flip through it, snickering at her scattered annotations about characters–specifically the ones she didn’t like. You’re completely immersed in the thoughts of Agatha when she clears her throat.

“Someone’s nosy,” she grins.

You quickly drop the book and turn around, but you have no idea what to say. She’s leaning against the doorway of the bathroom, the light of it behind her giving the illusion that she’s glowing. But your eyes are caught on the sight of her in a slip with a simple, untied satin robe accompanying it–not entirely lingerie, but definitely not something you’d wear to sleep in.

“Um–”

Agatha turns off the bathroom light and walks toward you. Her hand comes under your chin and her lips lightly kiss yours.

You exhale as she pulls away, “So…um…you’re reading the book I recommended.”

“I am,” Agatha smiles, still leaning in close with a hand on your waist.

“Do you like it?” you ask quietly.

Agatha hums, “I do,” she says, and looks down at your lips before looking you in the eyes again. “But, I didn’t have you stay over tonight for a book club meeting.”

“You did not,” you agree and lean into her touch. As you kiss her, you relish in the way her arms hold you tightly and when her hands move down and slide up under your shirt, goosebumps follow.

Her lips leave yours briefly but she’s still close enough that she might as well be speaking into your mouth, “Can I take this off?”

“Yes.”

Agatha smiles against your lips after your shirt is discarded and her hands move down to your pants, “And what about these?” she asks, her voice almost teasing. “Can I take these off?”

“Yes,” you answer, your voice breathless against her lips. “Take them off, take it all off.”

When your pants are tossed aside–and you’re wishing you had worn a matching set of a bra and underwear–her hands are on your waist, turning you around and laying you down on the bed. 

You move to the center of the bed and are practically drooling at the sight of Agatha removing her robe.

“Choose a safeword,” she says and reaches for the bottle of wine.

Your mind blanks momentarily, caught up in the heat of the moment, “Um–red? Red.”

“Good girl,” she says. Agatha steps forward and climbs onto the bed, moving to straddle you–and you can already feel that she has nothing beneath the satin slip. “Now, open your mouth.”

The second the wine bottle reaches her lips and tips back you know what’s coming–and you didn’t have a single problem with it. 

Her hand comes to your chin when you open your mouth and she looms over you with her lips pursed and eyes dark as they stare into yours. Her fingers, cold against your warm skin, grip your cheeks hard and the taste of wine now fills your mouth.

Agatha’s voice is cold and demanding, “Swallow.” A pleased expression replaces the hard exterior as you obey her and her grip on your jaw loosens, her thumb gently caressing the spot it lays over. “That’s it…Good girl,” she says softly.

You sit up, resting on your elbows as she kisses you. When she pulls away, she presses the opening of the bottle to your mouth and tips it forward. A steady stream of wine fills your mouth as Agatha holds it to your lips, maintaining eye contact the entire time. When you swallow the wine, the look of hunger overcomes her eyes and she tips the bottle further, taking pleasure in the way it trickles down your chin and down your chest, staining your bra in the process and making its way down to your abdomen.

After your final swallow of the wine, she sets the wine back on the nightstand and her hands wrap around you. Agatha’s fingers are quick, unclasping your bra, throwing it behind her, and pushing you back down. Her hands come to the edge of her slip and pull it over her head. 

The sight of Agatha on top of you with nothing but the thick, hot air in between you makes it hard to stay still–she’s mesmerizing in every way possible as she leans over you. With her knee in between your legs and her hands on either side of your head holding your wrists down, it was hard to believe this is where you’re ending your night.

Her long hair is like a dark curtain separating you from every distraction the outside world has to offer. It’s overwhelmingly intimate.

Agatha’s lips brush yours and you’re dying to kiss her again. Instead, her tongue slowly licks up your chin, collecting every drop of wine. When she makes it back to your lips, she lifts her head face-to-face with you again. 

She lets go of your wrist and moves her thumb to swipe at the bottom of your lip before connecting them with hers. It pulls every tiny breath from your lungs and you run your hand through her hand. 

When Agatha pulls away, her hand is now lightly placed over top of your throat. She leans in close, your noses brushing as she mutters, “You taste absolutely delicious.”

“Oh, but you’ve only tasted the wine, Agatha.” you grin, attempting to get any amount of friction from her knee. 

Her lips press lightly against yours, “Then I guess I’ll have to have a taste of something other than wine tonight.”

Your heart races as she moves lower. Her lips kiss down your throat and then she licks back up, tracing the line of wine up the column of your throat, over your jaw, and stopping beneath your ear. You gasp when she nips at the soft skin, soothing it with her lips before kissing back down your body.

Your breath comes out in short exhales as Agatha repeats her motions. Her tongue licks up your sternum and over your chest. You shiver at the feeling of her lips around your nipple as her fingers ghost over the other. 

When her fingertips and hair drag lightly over your abdomen your muscles twitch beneath her touch and you shiver. She smiles and kisses just below your navel. When she speaks, her voice is low and gravelly, “Someone’s sensitive…”

Agatha’s hands move to your thighs when the rest of the wine has been licked off of you. You’re almost trembling at this point and then she sits up and removes your underwear. “There are hair ties on the nightstand,” she says. “Hand me one.”

You quickly reach over and grab one, handing it to her and watching in admiration as she gathers her hair and twists it around itself, securing it in a loose bun.

As Agatha’s face lowers, she never takes her eyes off yours and your chest rises and falls heavily. Her hands are cold against your thighs as they slide soothingly over the surface. When they make their way to the apex, she carefully spreads them apart further until you’re on full display.

Agatha looks up at you through heavy eyelids and bites the inside of her lip before licking a stripe up your folds, “God, the wine is nothing compared to you, sweetheart.”

As her tongue quickens its pace, your breathing becomes heavy and your hand grasps at her hair. It’s only then that you gasp and arch your back when Agatha takes two fingers and slips them inside you effortlessly.

She takes your clit in her mouth and sucks hard as she curls her fingers. Your eyes squeeze shut and your hand slaps over your mouth before grasping the pillow. A loud moan escapes your lips. “Oh, fuck! Agatha!”

After that, it’s impossible to stay still. Your hips match her pace, trying your best to grind against her mouth. Gasps and whimpers spur her on and she sits up on her knees, her fingers continuing their pace. 

Agatha’s lips are on yours and you reach your hands up, holding her face close as you taste the intoxicating mix of yourself and wine on her tongue. When she moves to her side, her lips don’t leave yours, but her arm comes over your head. Her fingers tangle in your hair and nails lightly scratch against your scalp.

You moan into her mouth, your hands running up her thighs to her hips and waist. Your fingers trail down her stomach and don’t stop until they’re in the same position as hers are.

“Hm, you weren’t lying when you said you’ve been dying to get your hands on me,” you say. It was becoming increasingly hard for you to form proper and coherent sentences with the palm of Agatha’s hand pressing against your clit.

Agatha breathes heavily and smiles softly against your lips as her fingers tighten in your hair.

“No rebuttal, Miss Harkness?” you tease, your words breathless as your fingers pick up their pace. 

She moans softly, “Oh you’ll get your rebuttal, sweetheart, just you wait.”

As if it was even possible, her fingers seem to quicken. You can’t think of anything else other than Agatha and her fingers and every sense seems to be heightened and it almost hurts but it feels so damn good.

Your own fingers keep their quick pace in her but the only sounds you’re able to get out are shallow breaths and broken moans. Both of you attempt to kiss but it ends up being a mess of tongue and teeth as you both breathe heavily.

The pleasure you’re experiencing–that you’re both experiencing–has built itself up exponentially. 

“Agatha–fuck–don’t stop! Don’t stop! Don’t stop, please!” 

Your lips are on hers and the feeling of her tongue on yours nearly sends you over the edge. Her hand slides from the top of your head over to the side, almost as if she’s keeping your head in place to keep her lips on yours. She smiles against you and struggles to get her own words out, but still, she manages, “Keep going–fuck–You’re doing so well, baby, keep going. You’re such a good girl.”

And that’s what does it. 

Your left hand clutches onto her bicep as your back arches and your thighs constrict around her hand–and that’s what does it for her.

You’re both clinging to one another and everything is magnetized but non-existent simultaneously. Every problem you had before this moment is no longer relevant–instead, the feeling of Agatha’s fingers pulling your hair doubles the pleasure and your lips on hers brings a sense of comfort.

The sound of heavy, ragged breaths is the only thing that you can register after. A proper kiss is placed on your lips now and you follow it with more short pecks as your arms go around each other.

It’s quiet. You both lay there in silence. Your legs are tangled together and Agatha’s lips are against your temple. She looks down as you take her hand, lacing your fingers with hers before turning your head to face her. 

You kiss her softly, pull away, another peck, you wish you could taste her every single day. “That was certainly more than what happened in the coat closet.” 

Agatha smiles against your lips and kisses you again. When she pulls away her cheeks are almost pink and she looks you in the eyes, “Do you trust me?” she asks.

You’re taken aback by her question and furrow your brows, “Yes, I do. Why?”

She grins and hovers over you with her elbow and hand supporting her head. “Do you wanna try something?” she asks, her voice now soft.

You catch yourself starting to smile, “Like what?”

Agatha moves closer to you and you can feel her arm loosen around your waist as she makes eye contact. She speaks in a tone that teeters on seductive and her hand trails from your side up to your collarbones. “Like me fucking you with a strap…” Every word brought her closer and closer back to your lips and now she was moving to straddle you. “Like me watching you cum on my cock…”

You glance down at her lips and back to her eyes. “Go get it. Now.”

There’s a sparkle in her eye when she gets off you. She hurries to her closet and after five long minutes she finally returns. Agatha stands in the doorway of her closet, arm above her as she leans on the frame. She’s smirking and when your eyes glance down they catch the sight of her strap and you almost forget how to breathe.

Agatha slowly makes her way to the foot of the bed. She leans forward and climbs onto the bed, maintaining eye contact with you as she crawls toward you.

When she meets your legs, she parts them slowly and the entire time she becomes more and more dominant it seems.

You take a deep breath in when you feel the tip of the strapon run through your folds.

Agatha leans over you and forces you to make eye contact with her,  “Safeword?”

“Red,” you say, voice unwavering. 

“Good girl,” she praises before kissing you hard and sitting back up. 

Her hands hold your thighs apart and you take a deep breath in when you feel the pressure of the strap at your entrance. Your hand reaches down to your thigh and takes hers, lacing your fingers together as your head falls back in pleasure. 

She slowly picks up the pace and when there’s a steady rhythm, she pins your hand over your head and kisses you deeply.

“I wanna ride you,” you breathe against her lips.

“What?”

“I said…” you wrap your legs around her waist and flip you both over. “I wanna ride you.”

Agatha sits up and wraps her arms around your waist, hands sprawling on your back and hip as you grind down on the strap. Your head is thrown back in pleasure and your arms are around her shoulders when her lips attach to your neck, biting and sucking bruises into the soft flesh.

“Oh, God–Agatha!”

Her hand comes up to replace her lips, squeezing lightly as she kisses you hard. “You’re doing so well, baby,” she mutters against you.

Your hips move faster when she makes eye contact with you, taking her fingers and spitting on them before going down to rub your clit.

A gasp that borders on a yelp is pulled from your throat and you tighten your arms around her shoulders. 

“Look at me.” Her voice is stern, but the only thing you can focus on is how good it feels. You feel her hand grasp your face, squeezing your cheeks hard enough to pull your head down. “Look at me, now.”

When you open your eyes you’re met with hers, and the softness that blanketed them when you were in her arms just before this was far gone.

“Are you gonna cum?” Agatha asks, pouting as you nod your head. “Yeah?”

“Yes!”

She flips you over immediately, landing you on your back. With your arms tight around her neck as she holds you close, her pace picks up quickly.

Your head drops back to the pillow and Agatha kisses you hard, breathing in time with you. You hand grips the pillow beneath you and your other goes to her shoulder. You can barely get words out, each one blending in with moans and whines and gasping breaths. 

“Agatha–I’m–Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Your legs go tight around her waist while your back arches and jaw drops in a silent scream. You cling to Agatha’s back, shaking against her and gasping as she fucks you through the aftershocks. 

You’re both panting as you recover. Agatha sits up and unbuckles the strap, tossing it on the floor before she lays back down beside you. She gathers you in her arms and kisses you softly, “Are you okay?”

“More than okay,” you huff.

Kisses are exchanged–slow, soft kisses, heated, messy kisses. It feels like it’s gone in the blink of an eye, but the clock on the nightstand shows it’s been at least fifteen minutes. You pull away and rest your head on the pillow, looking up and smiling softly at Agatha as she lays beside you.

“How long ago was it?” you ask. “When did you start…liking me?”

Agatha hums, smiling softly and looking over your face. “Well, it took some time. You’re a hard pill to swallow, you know,” she jokes.”But…you were the only member of the coven to ask me if I was okay after my trial. But then I felt too old for you and ignored the feeling. ” She leans down and kisses you again, “And what about you, hm? When did this little schoolgirl crush happen?”

You chuckle, “You’re not too old for me, and I honestly can’t pinpoint it. I just remember you walking into the restaurant I worked at and praying that you would be sat in my section.”

“Well, I specifically told the host that I wanted your section,” Agatha says. “The host told us it was gonna be a ten minute wait and I almost just left.”

“A whole ten minutes!” you gasp dramatically.

“In my defense,” she says, “I had the Salem Seven after me.”

It goes quiet for a brief moment as you search her eyes, smiling softly. “And what about now?” you ask. “Would you wait those ten excruciating minutes again?”

“I would,” Agatha says softly. She brushes a strand of hair out of your face and sighs. “If it meant being with you, I would wait as many minutes as it took.”

[xi-vz]

Look at me back on my BS. HC—Shen Yuan looks like Mobei Jun.

•

•

•

Shen Yuan was a cute guy, at least his mom always said he was. He honestly didn’t care much for his looks. He was a teenage boy, and his interests lied with books, gaming, and trolling the comments section of the PIDW forums.

So maybe this whole thing was the forums fault?

Apparently Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky was going to make his first ever public appearance at a convention—it was exciting stuff seeing as PIDW just received a live action TV deal. (Shen Yuan wondered if the TV show would be able to transform the utter garbage parts into gold.)

Shen Yuan, with the fervor only a true (anti) fan could muster, scrambled to get his hands on a convention ticket the moment they went on sale. His parents even encouraged him! Happy to see him excited for something other than the internet. Securing his place, he also entered the cosplay competition where Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky would be a judge. Because why not? When else would he get to dress like a xianxia character?

It took him a while to decide who he wanted to dress up as. Look, if it were up to Shen Yuan he’d have been Luo Binghe. But, one, he doubted he could pull it off. Two, there were probably going to be a ton of Luo Binghe’s.

“Be the ice king,” his younger sister suggested one evening while the two fo them were hanging out in Shen Yuan’s room. She was busy on her Switch while he was on his laptop.

“Mobei Jun?” He asked, a skeptical look on his face.

“Yeah! You look like him.”

Which was untrue but whatever. Since he didn’t have any other ideas, he spent weeks (months) perfecting his costume, studying every detail from the illustrations and fan art.

(Shen Yuan learned how to sew for this costume!)

(And spent way too much money on commissioning what he couldn’t make.)

“You need to bulk up a bit,” his second older brother suggested one night. “I read some of Proud Immortal Demon Way, and Mobei Jun isn’t a twig like you.”

“Ha, A-Yuan is more of a twink,” his eldest brother teased.

So…Shen Yuan began to work out. He still had a few months until the costume contest.

It was hard at first, but his doctor had been on board. Granted, Shen Yuan couldn’t really get buff within a few months, but he did wind up with the beginnings of abs, his shoulders broadened and his ass looked great. There were a bunch of girls (and some guys) who made eyes at him at school now. Not that Shen Yuan noticed. But, he did notice that for the first time in his 19 years, he felt healthy.

When the day of the convention finally arrived, Shen Yuan found himself subjected to his sister's meticulous and admittedly skilled hand. She styled his already long black hair, adding extensions to achieve the full, flowing mane of Mobei Jun. She also worked some magic with makeup, highlighting his naturally icy blue eyes, which he had always considered a genetic defect, but today they were his greatest asset.

When he looked in the mirror, he barely recognized himself. There stood Mobei Jun, the demon king, imposing and cold. Shen Yuan’s heart pounded with excitement and a tinge of apprehension as he made his way to the convention center. His siblings in tow, because they wanted to root for him. As embarrassing as that was.

Upon arrival, the crowd was bustling with anticipation. Shen Yuan attracted a lot of attention—both for his stunning costume and his uncanny resemblance to Mobei Jun. A lot of people called out “my king!” As he walked by them, his cloak billowing behind him.

Damn, he felt majestic as fuck.

As he stood before the judges—a voice actress, a manhua artist and Airplane himself—he couldn’t help but feel a mix of pride and anxiety.

That was until he saw Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky for the first time. And. Wow. Okay.

Airplane was younger than Shen Yuan thought. Maybe 20; handsome, which was so weird. Square-jawed, in great shape with his DanDaDan graphic tee stretched enticingly over his pecs and biceps. His hair was curly and kept in an attractive undercut. He wore glasses and had ear piercings and a lip piercing and dimples and a sleeve tattoo. What? What the fuck?

Was Shen Yuan experiencing heart palpitations?

Airplane looked exactly how Shen Yuan envisioned Luo Binghe to look.

Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky's dark eyes widened in surprise and delight at seeing a Mobei Jun cosplay. It wasn’t done often, the king was not a fan favorite. But, his jaw dropped as he stared.

Something happened when Shen Yuan and Airplane's eyes met. A zing went up Shen Yuan's spine. Airplane stopped the contest then and there and declared Shen Yuan the winner while jokingly (not really) asking for his phone number. They did get to chat later, one-on-one, when Airplane began to sign autographs into books.

“Well, My King,” Airplane smiled at Shen Yuan, and there went his heart again! Which was bad, and meant that Shen Yuan probably needed to see a doctor. “What name shall I write out as the receiver of this book?”

“Um,” Shen Yuan’s brain scrambled. Did he give his name? Did he coyly say Mobei Jun? Ah, he didn’t know what he was doing! That was his only excuse as he blurted out, “Peerless Cucumber.”

Airplane froze.

Shen Yuan froze.

And then Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky began to laugh.

[jgracie]

dating percy jackson ♡ headcanons (fem reader)

warnings scary quest in which percy almost dies | masterlist

Dating Percy is like dating your biggest fan, because he is. You are dating your biggest fan

It takes him a while to realise he likes you and that all the things he’d do for you aren’t just because you’re his friend, but once it finally clicks it's all he can think about 

From that moment, he becomes #1 loverboy

“Percy, what are you doing?” Annabeth asked, watching as Percy frantically sifted through his many blue t-shirts. Acknowledging her presence, Percy breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled two of them out of his closet and held them up next to his face. “Gods, Annabeth, I’m so glad you’re here! Now, I’m about to go see Y/N at the beach and I need you to tell me which compliments my eyes better: the teal or the aqua."

It's very endearing and he doesn’t even try to hide it! But of course you’re the only person who doesn’t notice, thinking he just really wants to be your friend, because Percy’s nice and friendly with everyone

He follows you around everywhere trying to find out more about you so he can plan the perfect first date

You’re an Apollo kid who works in the infirmary? Percy’s first in line for Will’s first aid summer course. You harvest strawberries with the Demeter and Dionysus kids? Percy’s there before everyone else with 3 wicker baskets on each arm

Eventually, you do end up becoming really good friends because he’s just always there and really fun to talk to and super nice and good with kids and maybe he’s a little cute, you’re allowed to have cute friends! 

You would’ve been teetering the thin line between friends and dating for ages if it wasn’t for Annabeth, who devises a plan to get you alone and somehow managed to get the whole camp in on it

That’s how you both ended up at the beach, Percy with a note in his jean pocket that read, “tell her or I will - A” 

Turning to you, the corners of Percy’s mouth couldn’t help but lift as he watched you admire the way the waves lapped over the shore. That moment would be ingrained in his head forever, because it was the moment he fully understood he had to have you. His nerves betray him. When you ask, “what’d you wanna tell me?” Instead of saying some heartfelt confession that’d make you swoon, Percy states a simple fact: “You’re my best friend.” It turned out fine though, because you knew what it was. You felt the same way.

Once you start dating, you are practically attached at the hip. Wherever you go, so does Percy and vice versa

When dating Percy, you truly get the best of both worlds because not only is he your boyfriend, he is also your best friend and truly someone you can lean on when needed

Loyalty is his fatal flaw so expect a concerning amount of loyalty. He would find ways to justify you murdering a whole family if he had to

However, what comes with loyalty is protectiveness and jealousy. He doesn’t get that jealous because he knows that you two were literally written in the stars by Aphrodite herself, but he still can’t help but get a little jealous when he sees you with some other guy

Just kiss him a little and maybe stay the night at Cabin 3 and never speak to that guy again and he’ll be fine

Inherited motherly traits from Sally. Always checking you for cuts and scrapes after capture the flag, makes you a lunchbox before quests and then insists he goes with you to make you more food when needed and definitely not because he’s worried you won’t come back alive!

He knows you can handle yourself and all but he can’t help it. Out of everyone at camp, Percy’s your number one guy when it comes to dangerous quests

One of his biggest fears that kept him distancing himself from you when he was crushing on you was that he didn’t want you sucked into all the dangers he goes through on a daily basis. He’d rather watch you date someone ‘safe’ from afar than put you in harm’s way

You’d choose him over a literal God though, so he has no choice but to be stuck with you. Power couple!

After a really bad quest, one where he almost died, Percy sat you down at his cabin for a talk. Part of him didn’t want to tell you what happened, but he knew it’d be unfair on your end if you were left in the dark. “Look, I understand if you don’t want to stay with me. If it weren’t for Grover’s quick thinking, I don’t know what would’ve happened to me, and it’s not right for you to be stuck with a guy who’s basically friends with death. You deserve someone more sta–” You shut him up with a kiss, “Percy, when I agreed to date you, I didn’t just agree to all the good things, I agreed to the uglier parts of your life too. Sure, I was really worried while you were gone, but that’s just part of being a demigod, and it's a price I’m willing to pay for all the amazing moments we have together, so don’t even think about me leaving you.”

Anyways, he introduces you to Sally and Paul as soon as humanly possible. They already know too much about you considering you guys never met, but that’s just because Percy would rant to them about his crush on you on a daily basis

He's so incredibly happy watching you get along with his family. All of his favourite people gathered in one room <3

He also loves to see you interact with Estelle! Percy is a huge fan of kids so he can’t help but stare as you play peekaboo with his younger half-sister

Percy also introduces you to the ocean and everything about it. You liked it before, as it was beautiful and reminded you of camp, but Percy painted it in a whole new light

He’d constantly take you on trips under the sea, using his Poseidon kid powers to allow you to be able to see and breathe underwater like he does

This also means lots of making out underwater. After that one time you two got caught kissing by the Stolls suffering major consequences, he hasn’t been able to risk it

Overall, dating Percy is very fun & your relationship never ever gets boring :)

[peachdues]

eulogy

Tengen Uzui x f!Reader

sometimes love just isn’t enough.

a/n: reupload because this flopped when I first published and I got a little butt hurt about it lmao

tags: 1.4k • hurt/comfort • breakup but it’s mutual

The wake begins with the clink of your wine glass against his.

By all accounts, the two of you are enjoying a romantic meal at one of this city’s finest restaurants. Tengen Uzui and extravagance go hand-in-hand, and this place is certainly that: extravagant. Nothing but starched linens and rich mahogany, the polished silverware suffused by candlelight. The intimate ambience is highlighted by the soft, melodic harmony from the restaurant’s pianist, and though the tables are filled, no one dares raise their voice above a low murmur.

Tengen looks beautiful, as he always does, dressed in a deep shade of plum that matches his eyes. This suit is a favorite of yours, one you’d picked out for him to wear to a wedding one or two summers back. You hadn’t noticed it back then, but the rich purple brings out the most subtle tints of blue in his hair, making him more impossibly attractive than he already is.

Then again, you suppose it’s easier to pick up on these small details, here at the end of all things, than it had been when you’d been high on happiness and love. You’ve only got so long left to drink them in.

No, you can’t imagine anyone would look at the two of you — you, leaned forward, fingers curled around the delicate stem of your wine glass; Tengen, leaned back in his upholstered chair, his elbow perched on its back and his ankle resting on his opposite knee — and not think you were a beautiful couple in a room full of other beautiful couples, enjoying a luxurious night out.

You’ve dressed up too, even going so far as to carefully apply concealer to the dark circles that have imprinted themselves beneath your eyes over these last few days. You came here in the same car, for old time’s sake. Tengen opened doors for you at all the right times, and even pulled out the chair for you, like the perfect gentleman he is.

But the moment the check is signed and the bill is paid, the moment you step foot outside this last sanctuary and into the new world, Tengen will hail you a cab. Once he’s ensured you’re safely tucked into the backseat and your driver has the right address, he will close the door and send you off. He will take a different cab.

And then, you will go your separate ways.

Tengen, to the hotel he’s been living out of for the last few days, his new lease not due to kick in until next week.

And you? You will return to the apartment you once shared together, and you will try not to linger too long on the pile of boxes by the front door. The ones all marked with his scraggly handwriting — clothes, books, jewelry.

But right now, the two of you are here; now, dressed in your nightly best and sharing a bottle of wine. It’s no wonder your waitress cheerfully asks what special occasion you happen to be celebrating. Maybe her face falls when neither of you bother to answer, instead sharing only a single, glance as comforting as it is wistful, but you make an effort not to notice. Because this dinner has nothing to do with celebration.

It seems only fitting that this be the place to eulogize the love that bloomed over cheaper wine and appetizer plates ordered in lieu of entrees; to mark the end of that wonderful beginning.

A last rite.

You focus on your half-filled wine glass; pretend that your attention is drawn only to the swirl of maroon liquid and not the lump sitting in your throat or the persistent burn in your eyes.

The merlot sliding down your throat is dry enough to make you wince, but that’s exactly why you like it. Its sharpness keeps you alert just as much as it prevents you from plowing through it too quickly. The easier wine goes down means the easier it is for you to get drunk, and now is not the time. You’ll dave that for later, when it’s just you in the apartment and the low sound of the television you’ll leave on just to keep your loneliness at bay.

Tengen had tried to order you a bottle of red moscato when you arrived, the very wine you’d ordered that first date. It was a nice gesture; proof that he’d known you, at least, once upon a time.

But, as you’d gently corrected him before the unwitting server, you drink Merlot, now.

He hadn’t been mad; he’d only offered you a wistful smile, his eyes crinkling with knowledge of the unspoken weight your words carried.

Your tastes have changed since then; both of yours have.

Nothing to be done about it, of course. It’s the risk every couple who decides to fall in love must take, and there are only two outcomes. It just so happens your luck of the draw is the one that doesn’t involve aisle trips and flowers and I dos. Instead, it comes to a close with a funeral for the love the two of you undoubtedly share, but is no longer enough to keep your unit alive.

There’s still a great deal of love between you, of course, and in an ideal world, that would be enough. If love truly conquered all, then this rift between you would have never morphed into the mortal wound that’s brought you both to death’s door. There never would have been a rift, to begin with. Love would have healed all the things that made it grow — like your impatience with his overly guarded nature, or his frustration over your inability to understand there were just some things he couldn’t share with you. Couldn’t share with anyone.

If love had been enough to heal those scabs, then they never would have blistered in the first place. Better to celebrate the natural end of things instead of waiting until it festers into resentment. You couldn’t bear his hatred anymore than he could yours.

You think back to the night it all ended; he’d been the one to reach for you after your tearful admission that this wasn’t working anymore, and it hadn’t for a long time. He hadn’t tried to change your mind, and you hadn’t tried to convince him to; instead, Tengen only held you close, his tears dampening your hairline while yours soaked his shirt.

Does he dread the end of dinner as much as you do? He must, if he’s wearing that suit while looking at you the way he is: with a gentle, closed lip smile and eyes hungrily searching every detail of your face, committing you to memory along with every other facet of your relationship. After all, you’re doing the same thing to him, just over the rim of your glass.

It is one thing to know, deep in your heart, that this step is the right one, but it is quite another to take it. Disentangling your roots from the person you’ve spent the last few years building your life around suddenly seems all the more difficult.

And yet, his boxes are packed. You’ve already moved your pillows to the center of the bed, filled the empty space in your closet with sweaters you used to fold.

Letting go isn’t the hard part; you’d accepted that was necessary a long time ago. It’s knowing you now have to figure out how to live without that piece of you, that has your chest splintering.

Tengen’s gaze tightens as he notes the ways your eyes glisten not from the soft candlelight, but from the tears you no longer can hold back.

“It’ll be all right,” he murmurs in that wonderfully reassuring way that only makes the lump in your throat grow larger. “No more tears, beautiful.”

He lays his arm atop the white tablecloth and turns his palm up. His fingers are loose, but they’re curled toward you, beckoning for you to indulge him, one last time.

Your eyes dart between his hand and his apologetic smile. How he thinks he has anything to apologize is beyond you; neither of you are responsible for this death. It just simply is.

Still, his touch and all its comfort will only be familiar a little while longer. You might as well savor it before he becomes a stranger again.

So, with a watery smile, you set your wine glass down.

And you place your hand in his.

[highpope]

Biker!JJ x Reader

based on this ask, thanks anon!

warnings: swearing, motorbike racing/stunts, scared reader notes: i don't even know what this is, i got carried away. enjoy

“Okay, odds,” your friend Sarah had said when the two of you sat down on the risers. You had both decided to get last minute tickets to the bike show that was touring through town. Neither of you were that interested, but thought it’d be fun to see the race and some stunts. 

“Odds what?”

"What are the odds you go into that?” She asked, pointing to an area outside of the track. There was a giant metal sphere that had two bikers riding inside. They moved, calculated and confident in circles, going upside down and crisscrossing. 

Your mouth basically fell open, “None. Absolutely not.” 

Sarah laughed, “C’mon, humor me. Pick a range.”

You sigh, “one to one-hundred.”

“Really?” She looked at me like I was the one being unreasonable. 

I nodded and started counting down from three. 1…2…3… “Sixty-seven.”

“Sixty-seven.” 

“Fuck,” you mumbled. 

----------

And that’s how you found yourself standing off to the side of “The Globe of Death,” waiting for the attendant to let you in.

You sighed as you wiped the sweat off your palms on your jeans. The sun had gone down the whole way now, leaving the beach illuminated only by the spotlights set up by the tour around the racing track and the neon lights on the bikes. At least that meant no one could see how scared you looked. You can’t believe this was happening to you. “Alright, sweetheart” the man called out to me, “you done this before?” You shook your head, breathless.

“Just stand right on the X and don’t put your arms out.”

Okay, duh. You just nod, unable to speak without fear you would call the whole thing off. “Alright, Maybank! She’s all yours!” The man yells as the hinge to the dome starts to lift. 

You carefully step inside, taking the hand of the rider to help pull yourself up. You mumble a “thanks” that you’re sure no one heard and stand on the green tape in the middle of the dome. It was even bigger on the inside. Incredibly intimidating.

You couldn’t see any of his other features, but his deep blue eyes met yours instantly. He winks and you're not sure how you know, but you can tell he’s smiling under his helmet. Your cheeks blaze red as you divert your eyes.

Maybank revs the engine on his bike and the crowd outside goes crazy. He accelerates, building momentum as he drives around the walls. You jump, caught off guard, the countdown drowned out by the noise. The whirlwind of neon blue lights that outline the bike fly around you in circles. At first the stunts are more careful, staying quite a large distance away from you as he rides up and down the walls of the dome. In an instant he’s closer, almost parallel with you. If he reached out he could grab your arm. The thought alone makes you feel nauseous. Everything starts to blur as you feel yourself panic more and more. You needed to get out of here. The biker gets closer, making the crowd gasp and your hands shoot up to cover your face. No, no, no, no, no. “Hey, hey!” Someone yells. You slowly drop your hands from your face to see that everything has stopped. The music is still playing over the speakers, but the crowd is no longer yelling and the engine of the bike has been turned off. You lift your head to see the rider has removed his helmet and is looking right at you. 

“Are you okay?” 

You shake your head, “No.”

“We can be done.” He answers flatly and you feel yourself getting a little disappointed. Maybe at yourself for giving up so quickly or maybe something else.

“Uhm. We don’t have to be.”

The blond turns back to look at you, “yeah?”

“Yeah. I just… I’ve never done anything like this before.”

He laughs, “I can tell.” His eyes trail down your body before coming back up to your eyes. He doesn’t seem to care that you’ve noticed. “I’m not going to hurt you, ya know?”

“Promise?” you whisper. It felt like a prayer.

He laughs again, his dimples in his cheeks poking through. “Yeah. Promise, pretty girl.”

You nod, suddenly calm, despite the heart attack you’re feeling at the sudden attention.

He runs a hand through his hair as he moves to stand closer to you, making it stick up in all different directions. 

“You can lift your arms,” he says, his hand brushing against my forearm and guiding my arms to extend above my head, “If you want. Or you can keep them straight against your side. I’m just gonna go for a few more minutes.”

“Mhmm” you hum, nodding.

“Yeah? You’re good?” 

“I’m good.” you confirm and watch as he smiles back at you. He gently brushes a strand of hair back from your face, tucking it behind your ear before speaking gently, “Okay, princess. Keep your arms up nice and pretty for me, yeah?”

He pulls on his helmet again and climbs back onto his bike. You straighten up, a sudden rush of determination to get through this. Or to at least keep his attention on you.  There is a clear countdown this time before he starts off, going in circles around you. He starts to pick up speed, flying around, but his eyes lock on you in the middle. One of his arms stretches out to your waist, his palm gently brushing against you as he drives. You can’t help but smile now, heart all but lurching out of your chest. When he pulls back, you quickly lock your arms back at your side. Just like he promised, you’re only in there for a little bit more as he does his last trick. He moves from being parallel to you, to riding up and around the globe, flipping upside down for a second before repeating it on the other side of you. He does this a few more times as the crowd cheers him on. 

When he finishes, he slows to a stop and gestures to you. You awkwardly wave back to the crowd as they cheer even louder. 

You can see Sarah waiting at the entrance to the dome, practically jumping up and down as she screams. You laugh fondly and move to exit. A hand hovers on your back as you step out, landing on the mat with a thud. “That was awesome! You’re insane!” Sarah yells. The biker climbs out behind you, pulling his helmet off and handing it to his team.  “See, told ‘ya I wouldn’t hurt you.” He winks and you practically melt. He extends his hand for you to shake, “JJ,” he says softly. You smile back and take his hand.

[shinjisdone]

𝑇𝜎 𝑆𝜎𝑓𝜏𝜀𝜋 𝛼 𝑊𝛼𝑟𝑟𝜄𝜎𝑟’𝑠 𝐻𝜀𝛼𝑟𝜏 (Vinland Saga; Thorfinn - 𝑺𝒍𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝑨𝒓𝒄, 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 4)

In which you have joined Askeladd’s band…and grow closer to the Son of Thors - though as your future seemed promising, his thirst for revenge devastated all that you had left.

[Headcanons of how it would be like to meet Thorfinn again after he shattered your heart (based on season 2; both platonic and romantic)

Sᴇᴀsᴏɴ ₁ ﹙Wᴀʀ Aʀᴄ﹚ is here

Part 1: - (Thorfinn as a slave and his struggles) Part 2: - (Thorfinn trying to accept your existence as a slave)

Part 3: - (Thorfinn finds a reason to live, you finally see him)

Tag list:

@luopenis , @jinsecho , @mitsureigen , @theknightssecrets , @lana-del-stan , @theghostofanficpresent , @night-shadowblood-writes2

[Mentions of murder, death, war, slave trade, harrasment against women and whatever awful things happened in the viking era. Slavery will be a main subject throughout the entire arc. Mostly gender-neutral examples but female-leaning ones are there, too.]

[TW: This part will specifically mention: depressed tension, attempted murder, suicidal thoughts, lots of talking, lotsa dialoge, short but detailed description of strangulation, finding reasons to still keep living including being begged to]

Mighty River, Release My Soul...

Your arms were as warm as they were on that winter day.

You scolded him back then too, though he reckoned it was far more vicious than your prattling now.

The way you looked at him, were so focused on tending him even if it was for a mere moment, was like breathing in fresh, icey cold air that he has been deprived from for weeks. It coursed through him and stung each limb. It only found an end after Pater cleared his throat.

Immediately you let go of Thorfinn, spinning to the man with a confused noise and a gasp. He smiled. "Thorfinn is fine now, you don't need to worry. These two boys just need to take the rest of the day off. Now that you are willing to talk...I believe we'd best have a conversation. Not with Master Ketil, do not worry."

Still, that flustered panic did not leave your face as you meekly nodded and followed him. Pater waved Thorfinn and Einar one last goodbye before motioning you to follow with an easy gait. You looked back to Thorfinn before tailing after Pater.

Einar let go of his baited breath. "How..strange. They...you really know them, don't-" The brunette chocked on his breath as Thorfinn was disappearing into the dense forest. Work had to be done, injured or not. Perplexed and with a huff of irritation, he ran after him.

First he doesn't know how to show gratitude and say 'thank you' and now he is shrugging off - someone who was scared to death for him!

What the hell is this guy's problem?!

The way to the forest was easier than the last few weeks. The both of them were able to cut down quite a lot of trees, clearing the path, but the stumps remained, leaving the woods like a rugged wasteland of dead trees.

Einar didn't even noticed his stomps and the way his bruisened feet dug into the soil. Narrowed blue eyes watched Thorfinn swing down the axe again, again, again. Cut, cut and cut.

His movements were fluid as he observed him, as he wasn't threatened this day at all. As if he wasn't a second from throwing his life away at all.

But he dodged. He sprung out of the way and didn't seem to be aware to have tried to kill Snake. He seemed so...light and out of it. Like a drunken bird.

"Hey, Thorfinn." The blonde barely showed any sign of listening to him, continuing to cut. "Have you ever been to war?"

Thorfinn chopped once, "I have."

Einar's gaze darkened. He answered him clearly and with focus.

"Have you ever killed people?"

Again, he cut. The tree fell down swiftly. "I have."

"How many? A few? Five, ten?"

"Why do you want to know? Don't you hate war?"

His blue eyes snapped up as the blonde halted. If he stalled or wanted to hear his answer, he didn't know. He just knew that each and every day of being with him confused him more, made a tiny flame in him flick, made the gall in his throat come up.

"I'm asking because...if you went to war and killed, then how-"

Einar took a deep breath and swallowed the gall that threatened to spit out, "-How can that person be worried about you? Why do they want you to live if you killed?"

The axe hovered above his head before he slowly lowered it down - and having it fall with a thud to the ground. His dull eyes oversaw the mess he left. "I don't know...", "Why not? They seem to know you. Are they like you?"

"No." Thorfinn quickly and sharply answered. Though his next words fell flat and soft again, "They aren't a dog like me."

Not when you looked at him like that. Not when you were so heavily relieved by seeing him breathing and battered, like his father was back then.

...I Need To See The World...

Waged war since he was a child.

Ever since he was a wee lad, he said, but he couldn't remember the exact age. He is only about eighteen, so how long ago was it that he can't even remember? Could he even recall it?

It sounded...ridicilous as Einar walked back to the little barn they called their home - or beds, he wasn't sure - back hunched and steps sulken, though his face was as dark as thunder.

He pillaged and killed and stole of people's hard work. Their land, wheat and loved ones. And he can't even remember who, when and why?

Let that fool cut away at the last standing trees as roughed up as he is. Einar is allowed to rest and he'd rather drown in his thoughts alone, bundled up in hay than look at Thorfinn for another minute.

Falling asleep alone feels somewhat sad...but at least he'd fall asleep without any screaming waking him into the early night.

It was the sound of spilled water that made him shoot up his gaze up at the person holding a bucket and rags with them. You shuffled awkwardly to the side, standing right in front of the barn.

Einar was quick to wipe the glare off his face. "Oh...good evening."

"...G-Good evening." You struggled to reply, he thought.

Einar couldn't help but make a long and wide face, pursing his lips as his blue eyes took in your uncertain form. You finally met his eyes with your own. "Are you waiting for Thorfinn?" Your brows rose as you nodded. He must've figured it out quick - or you are just that predictable.

"Pater allowed me to go see him quick. For his ear. Just to make sure the wound didn't fester through the day." "He's still back in the forest chopping. If you wait too long, you might get in trouble."

Shuffling a bit, you hesitated. "I'll wait a bit more. He's stubborn."

The brunette's shoulder sank. With a sigh, he swiftly sat down on the boulder next to the barn's entrance and crossed his arms. "I'll wait too, then."

He sat there on the right, while you stood on the left side. You stared at him briefly, confusion written on your face. The sky turned even darker, with the stars shining through their hiding spots. The moon was nowhere to be seen but the lights from the master's estate still offered some solace. It was illuminated enough for both people to see each other and perhaps recognize an possible incomer.

The silence did not feel heavy yet pressuring. As if any moment, something was waiting to happen.

You glanced at the man and took a deep breath. "...Are you hurt somewhere, too?"

"Uh, what?" Einar jumped and whipped his head to you. "You were there too, right? With the guests. They must've hurt you, too." "Oh! Well - I'm fine enough. Just a few bruises," He rolled his shoudler while chuckling dryly, "The real unlucky bastard is Thorfinn."

You hummed and rose the bucket in your hand. "Pater didn't give me any balms or medicines but the water should cool the bruises." "Ah, uh," Einar waved with his arms, laughing as he shook his head, "No, no, I'm okay. Honestly I...got really off scott-free. Really, the one who has it the worst is...Thorfinn."

You pulled a face - Einar could not decipher what it meant - and went back on being on the look out. "I'd figure. He likes getting in trouble."

The man glanced in your direction, taking in your unreadable, narrowed expression briefly, before staring back down the hill as well, though halfheartedly. "You know him?" He dared to glance to you again, "That he's like that?"

The grip on the bucket tightened and your eyes darted around the cool meadow below. For a moment, you shifted aimlessly but decided to give in. "Yes. He...is an old friend."

There was no need to pretend. To act coy and unknowing when you so foolishly started to speak and cradled him in your arms. Not when you were waiting here like an idiot for him to return and see him again just this once for tonight.

As if he was deserving of it. Thorfinn did not return when you ran after him, did not stay as you lead him to Leif's boat and now you are waiting for him again - and the only certainty you had was that he had the order to do so as a slave.

You yourself needed to oblige.

Lying here will bring you nothing but punishments and you had to be on your best behaviour, even if it meant not being with Thorfinn for however long you were allowed to. But for now, you could use Pater as an excuse and do all that you could - even if this whole place, Thorfinn himself and your own actions didn't make any sense to you.

You are a slave here now on this farm. Why should you even try?

Back with Askeladd you could fight back. But here, your hands are only untied by Ketil's orders.

"There he is." Einar lowly let out and made you snap your head up to see the short blonde march towards you with a hunched back and one arm holding the other bandaged one. His own lidded gaze was focused on the ground before they widened upon your sight.

"Your friend has been waiting." Einar got up with a start, his voice stern and certain, "I'll be just outside. Let's head to bed soon after." Thorfinn barely had the chance to utter a protest as the brunette simply turned around the corner of the barn, staying a few steps away from it. Though his eyes quickly went back to you, wide and unsure, before he walked into the barn and sat down on the hay. You kneeled down next to him, dunking the cloth into the water.

Wordlessly, you got up and went around to his side, pulling his greasy strands away to observe his ear. Thorfinn felt the gentle, almost ghostly tips of your fingers graze his shell as he unblinkingly hung his head, sitting cross-legged. His hands were clutched and the fingers would tense around one another, slightly, as if shivering from the cold.

There was nothing to see. No festering, no tissue. A clean cut that won't affect his hearing at all. You knew, but wanted to see him anyway. Perhaps it was the paranoia, perhaps you didn't trust Pater's word, felt like you couldn't, or you truly just wanted to see him again. This ghost of a man from the past.

You didn't know. But you knew you were a fool for feeling drawn to him after all this time, for wanting to see if he is really alright.

Gaze remained on the wound for a while before you let his hair slip off your hold and kneeled down next to him again. Watching him, Thorfinn didn't meet your eyes, not even when you brought the wet, cold cloth up to pat his face.

His jawline felt thinner. The short stubbles tickled your skin and bent back against the cloth. You couldn't remember him with any stubbles, let alone a sliver of what seems to be a beard ever appear on his grimsome mug. Blonde hair heavy and stringy tickling his shoulders - he used to hate having long hair. It bothered him so that he'd cut it whenever it got too long for his tastes, leaving him with this disheveled, wild look. But here, he was downcast, downtrodden, like nothing he has ever been before or wanted to be. Yet his eyes stayed the same. The sorrow you saw reflected in the deep brown, the same you saw that winter day.

Still, Thorfinn didn't want to look at you.

...To The Unknown, I'll Go Against My Sorrow...

"What are you doing?" Was all he muttered instead, staring holes into the ground. The cloth hung in the hair before you dapped it in water again. "I don't know. I think I wanted to see if you're still...here."

Pressing the water out, you took his limb hands and gently glided the cloth over his course skin. "You shouldn't. You'll get in trouble and..." For a moment, Thorfinn glanced to the side, "...I'll drag you down with me."

You couldnt help the frown as you focused back on his hands and picking out the splinters of wood. Thorfinn dragged you down with him ever since you met him. Drowning together seemed like fate, a curse that befell upon you the moment you so foolishly returned his dagger.

Is it punishment for not being like Askeladd and letting him die? For not being like Canute and letting him be? Are people like you just meant to suffer in this world, all caused by your own actions?

It felt like it. Yet here you were with him again. Was a reunion another form of punishment, prolonging your suffering just a bit more before you die?

Was sitting here and tending to him suffering as well?

"I can't be dragged lower than this. There's nothing else." Finally, Thorfinn looked at you and the action was as painful as he thought it'd be. Your hair was longer, face bearing more and you've grown, too. Lidded eyes were focused on his calloused hand, the shadows of the night consuming you, not even the stars were bright enough. Hesitation would flicker within every minute, every moment, if it's really you - yet then his eyes would unwittingly search for the familiar injuries you had in the past, that one uniquness you wore, a certain pattern of speech and it would ease all doubts he had, eliminate them with the memory from just today. When you embraced him. When you told him he should be back in Iceland.

Thorfinn turned his hand around, grabbing one of yours, while the other one swiped the cloth in your hand off, as if it meant nothing in this, as if his injuries meant nothing at all, and held both of your hands in a tight, suffocating grip. With every passing second, they trembled more.

"You shouldn't be here. You should be somewhere far away, somewhere that isn't here. I'm doing this to you." He glared at your hands with an anguished frown, gripping them as if they could be swept away any second while yours were lying limbly in his. "I thought if I could be here...it'll be fine. But I'm still finding ways of doing this to you. Even after all I did...I'm still managing to hurt someone, and that's you."

Suddenly, he whipped his wide-eyed stare to you, taking in your own frustrated and chagrin-filled face. Your dry, pressed lips, the frown etched onto your visage, your bulging eyes. Thorfinn felt like he needed to continue before you began tearing up. "I'm...still me. But I will be here tomorrow. And the day after that." The blonde hesitated - before deciding to not promise it. He can't tell how much faith you can still put in him and neither can he.

Your watery gaze narrows before looking back over your shoulder. The house's lights are out and you'll need some to find your way back.

Slowly, weakly almost, you got on your feet. Hands still clung to Thorfinn's as they slowly slipped out of his grip. With one last look you offered to him, you hoarsely whispered, "You'll be here."

The man could only nod with wide eyes as you finally let go and went back. The darkness of the night swallowed you whole, only the sound of splashing water letting him know you're still nearby before only the sound of critters were left.

As Einar turned towards the entrance of the barn, he saw Thorfinn lying on his side. He watched him, the blonde almost motionless but the rise of his chest was a relief. He wondered how on earth Thorfinn could've fallen asleep so quickly but he didn't care enough to ponder for a minute more. This...guy. He was another beast, wasn't he?

He killed and pillaged and caused people like him and Arnheid and Pater to end up in places like this. Though Master Ketil was a kind trader, he was an exception to the rule. Anywhere else, and he might have it worse. And you seemed to be just like this guy.

One by one, the brunette took a step closer. How many has he killed? And have you taken lives as well? Can any of you remember?

The hay glided off his legs like snow. Have you caused fires, burned down fields and houses, flung spears and arrows into people?

He stood in front of him. The hay was warm around his knees. This murderer is now cutting down trees to make a field, to plant, to grow, to thrive. To feed people. To still their hunger, use the wood for houses and tools and use the wheat to bargain and trade.

His thick, scarred hands fit around his neck. The anger burning inside him and filling the hole in his chest made it easy to clam them around tightly. Einar could feel his pulse, steady and clear against his skin. Further back was part of his spine, feeling every movement of each inhale. Yet it feels so surprisingly soft when he puts pressure. Soft as his fingers curl around the back of his neck, squeezing the spine in, feeling his pulse quicken and his breath labored. The peaceful snores turned into winces, into pleas for the pain to stop.

Just a bit more. More. The blonde gasps, wiggling around in the hay as his whimpers turned into groans of pain. Somehow he could still breath.

"...Shit."

The throat was warm but Einar could feel his palms getting sweaty. In an blink of an eye, he surprised himself of how quickly he let go. His squatted legs trembled and stumbled back. Thorfinn didn't stop screaming.

Shit. He can't do it. Einar can't kill someone!

It's scary. The feel of someone's neck around your hands is terrifying and daunting, like a weight itself is put on his chest even though he is pretending to be the predator. To be stronger. To be the winner. He can't do it. He doesn't want to do it. He doesn't want to hate. He doesn't want anyone to die.

Suddenly his hands whipped out into the air, wailing around for help. Thorfinn gasped for air, only to screech out more. Even when Einar tried to kill him, he's still throwing a tantrum.

Quivering with hitched gasps, coughing and panting. It's the same every night.

A man like him. It's all nightmares, every night, and he knows it but now - now he wants to live to keep dreaming and live to keep seeing you and live to keep chopping down trees. Yet still, he feels so out of place here.

A desperate inhale and he reckoned he wanted to call for someone. His sweaty hand stiffened. In an blink of an eye he could feel it coil to a fist, pressure forcing his fingers down and he snapped his gaze wide open. Einar's hand clung around his.

"...You..." Thorfinn could finally feel the coolness of the air, the way the hay prickled his back as he desperately sucked in deep breaths like a man starved of food.

A good minute passed, at least to Einar, and Thorfinn shuffled around to sit up. He wiped the sweat off his face before glancing towards the brunette's back. Finally he calmed down, and noticed how dry his mouth was while swallowing. "...Why..." The blonde licked his lips, "...Why do you wake me...everytime I have a nightmare?" He took another breath and could clearly hear the crickets, hiding among the high grass, now. "...I...killed people, too." Propping his knee up, he leaned his elbow on it and his face against his hand - scarred and big enough to cover half his downtrodden visage. "I helped pillage and kill in each village I passed by. People like you. For years. I am...I am as despicable as the warriors that killed your family. And I'll just drag you down, too. So why-!"

Suddenly, Einar shot up, like a predator seeing his chance. Swiftly he snapped to him, a steel-tight grip on his tunic and a glare as dark as thunder as tears welled up in his eyes. "So, you wanna die, huh?!" He gave him a good shake and Thorfinn let it happen, "You wanna die here in the woods you chop down?! You and your - listen," His tone turned dark and Thorfinn's eyes widened, "I don't know exactly what happened to you. And I don't wanna know! I can't even imagine it!" Another rock, "But even if we are far down in our lowest point, there are - there are still some things we can be glad about to experience! Even if we just eat, work, sleep and shit all day, it's worth something! When you get cleaned up all nice, even when its with a stinky, worn out rag, it's still something! And all of that...all of that is only possible because someone let you live!"

Through gritted teeth, he swallowed his snot and fought against his tears. Images and voices of his mother and sister flashed by and Einar bit his lip to focus on the pain. He shook Thorfinn again.

"So be grateful for that at least! Do you hear me?!" He couldn't help but let a shaky sigh escape him. He didn't even have the strength to throw the blonde to the ground - he'd let that happen, too. So his grip grew softer and in defeat, Einar slumped down on his side of the barn. "Besides," He muttered, "It's not like you were the one who killed my family."

His brown eyes observed his hunched back, the way his body curled into a ball. Quiet and steady were his breaths as Thorfinn looked back to his hand. His scarred, calloused hand Einar took to get him back to the waking world, to the cold and dark night, the crisp air as crickets played their songs. It was better. Calmer than any other place he had ever been to.

"...Thank you, Einar." His voice was a mere attempt to utter his gratitude but it made Einar's heart beat faster. "Thank you for always waking me when I have a nightmare."

"...Yeah. Can't get a good night's sleep with you brailing around. Just go to sleep, Thorfinn."

"I will. I'll get up with you tomorrow."

Mighty River, Release My Soul, Out To The Open Gold...

He did wake up first.

Washed his face, stretched, got his axe. Waited for Einar to finish his chatting with Arnheid as you came around the corner.

It seemed like Pater was not angry last night nor did you get in trouble. Thorfinn couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief.

Einar noticed you as well and tried to give his best welcoming smile. "...Good morning!" The brunette noticed the crack in his voice but tried to brush off his embarassment with a wider grin. You blinked and gave a somber reply. "Oh...good morning." Your eyes immediately went to the shorter blonde, seeing him ready with the axe over his shoulder. His locks hid the shine in his gaze. He, too, greeted you. "Good morning."

The sound of your name on his tongue felt foreign. Like a hometown meal he hadn't had in ages, or learning a melody from his long-gone childhood. He saw your eyes widen as you struggled to instantly give a response. "G-Good morning, Thorfinn..."

His back was straighter, you weren't sure if he even noticed that himself, and his steps were heavy. The deep rise and fall of his chest was...relieving in a way, but before you could glance at him again, Einar sucked in a baited breath and stepped forward. "Well, we'd best get going, haha!" His laughter was too forced and so was his goofy grin, "Trees don't chop themselves! Uh, have a good, productive day, you two! See you later!" He marched away with a comedic wave towards Arnheid, and with Thorfinn in tow.

The woman chuckled before looking at you. "We're lucky to have such sweet and funny guys as our neighbors, don't we?"

The sun slowly went her way down across the sky but Thorfinn was more eager than ever to drop his axe, rope and knife to walk towards the edge of the decreasing forest. Einar rose a brow but brushed his confusion off, believing the blonde wanted to greet the master. "You're up and about, you lads, aren't you? Very good work ethics, I must say."

"Thank you, Master Ketil." Einar noted Thorfinn's quick and serious reply but kept his mouth shut. As fair as Ketil was, here on his high horse, it wasn't like Thorfinn to be so eager for conversations with him. "I do plan to turn this place into a field in about three years," Thorfinn added with an determined tone, his words cut and clear. Ketil, too, rose a brow. "Oh? Have you planned for that exact time?" The shorter man shook his head. "No. But I will get it done by then."

Look at that guy. Talking all high and mighty, confident like a carpenter as if Einar isn't doing half the work, too!

"And when it is done, Master...I'd like to ask you for a favor." The elder straightened his back and took a sharp inhale. Thorfinn making any suggestions piqued his interest - yet rather in puzzlement. "What did you have in mind, boy?"

Now, he, too, straightened his back, widened his eyes as if trying to pierce through Ketil's soul, wanting dearly for him to understand the utter necessity that bore in his words, that tore apart his heart. He had to say it and the man had to understand. Please.

"If you would so kindly allow, I'd like to work as much as I need to till this soil and grow its crops here. But instead of buying myself, I'd like to sell you the produce in order to buy their freedom back."

"What?!"

Both Einar and Ketil jumped at the boldness of his words. Thorfinn didn't blink an eye as he kept his expectant stare on the master. "Thorfinn...do you know what you're saying? Three years, at the least, all for this...one, one person? You don't mean the shy, new one?"

"I do." Thorfinn did not falter, "I want to work to buy their freedom back. To get somewhere else, far away from here. I want them to be free."

I Can't Stay Here Forever In This Hollow...

----

okay, so, this took too long-

first of all, I noticed way too late that Einar is, in fact, not a brunette;;;;his hair is rather dark reddish...oops. i'll pay more attention to that in the next also, i read a few posts of manga-onlys/those who read the manga first that they didn't like Einar's confrontation with Thorfinn in the barn after their drama with Snake. That he's too violent, put in a bad light and I do get that - considering how incredibly kind and open-minded the guy actually is and even called Thorfinn his friend in that very chapter (in the anime it happened way later). this is...complete bias on my part but I don't mind the scene in the anime. its scary, almost unnecessarily so in some regards considering how long the strangle goes on, like wtf - but I do like that it allowed Einar to be angry and grief in a rather negative way and realise in the midst of the action that what he is doing is wrong and that he physically does not have the guts nor want to kill someone. Imo not even giving into the thought of hurting Finny (like in the manga) shows more maturity but I don't mind both scenes. Plus, I like his speech of finding even the smallest things worthwhile and letting go of his anger in the moment to wake up Finn, cause he knows its wrong - that he isnt doing anything helpful or good, despite not liking Finn during that time at all.

ngl, I didn't get his speech at first - but pondering it about it more, Einar had already gone through a tragedy as a child with his father fighting off warriors/vikings to defend their village and not being sold off as slaves. After the huge amount of damage vikings have done (I imagine), there was prbly a lot of things to recover and rebuild again where all he, as a child, could do was work to rebuild, eat what they had, sleep as much as he could, and shit all day until their village recovered and they could enjoy their peace again - aka Einar being rather hopeful and ready to do that all over again as a slave and buy his freedom back.

[simpfordin]

W A V E S

thanos (choi su-bong) x fem!reader [au: based on the film waves]

wc: 3.4k+

summary: you and your boyfriend were madly in love, spending nearly every moment together. the two of you each had your own big plans post graduation. unfortunately, an unexpected pregnancy leads to the demise of the relationship.

warnings: TWTW teen pregnancy, toxic relationship, very angsty, subong is mean/ooc [not rlly a warning but i'm a chronic run-on sentence gal and i'm tired of reading this so i apoligize for grammar/spelling mistakes]

disclaimer: by no means am i promoting any of the themes in this story.

the sun had set below the horizon, casting the sky into a beautiful sea of deep blues and purples. some light was left, though, enough for you to see every detail of the man that lay next to you on the beach towel. his focus was on the sky as stars gradually appeared. the moment was so tranquil, from the light breeze in the air to the sounds of waves crashing in the distance, and the salty smell of the water blown in your direction. moments like these made life feel perfect.

“i didn’t want to say anything, babe,” you broke the silence, “and i love you dearly, i hope you know that.”

su-bong raised a brow, sensing the tease in your voice. he turned his head to face you, noticing how you tried to hide your smile.

“its just that,” you giggled, “your hair really reminds me of thanos. you know, that purple dude in the marvel movies?”

he watched as you cracked yourself up. if anyone else had told him that, su-bong would not find it amusing at all. the soft spot he had for you, though, allowed you to get away with the comment. in fact, he did find it somewhat comical.

suddenly, he interrupted your laughing by placing his hands on your hips, and swiftly maneuvered your body so that it lay on top of him. he placed his hand on the back of your head, pulling your lips to his. the two of you smiled into the kiss, ignoring the rest of the world. ‘moments like these,’ he thought to himself, ‘make this life feel perfect.’

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

we need to talk, plz text me when you can.

you tossed your phone to the opposite side of your bed where you currently sat, a wave of anxiety rushing over your frame. it was almost as if every single cell in your body let out a small shock starting from the crown of your head, and ending in the tips of your toes.

the two pregnancy tests sat side by side in your brightly lit bathroom. after seeing the word ‘positive’ on the first test, you had rushed straight back to the convenience store, assuming, no, praying that it was a mistake. less than half an hour later, though, your fear was confirmed.

anguish and anxiety riddled your bones; confusion lay dormant in your soul. 'how could this be?' you wondered in a panic. your mind immediately began to race, as if it hadn't been before, and thoughts about the future quickly crept in.

in a matter of months, you would be graduating from the 12th grade, and you were set to begin your first semester at a prestigious university nearby. what's more is that the university offered a select number of students generous scholarships based on merit and academic excellence, with you being a lucky recipient. your parents bragged for months, and still continue to do so; nearly everyone you know, even acquaintances, were aware of the achievement. what would happen if all of the sudden you declined to attend school? how, then, would everyone you know view you? or, what if you attended school whilst pregnant? what kind of reputation would this build? ‘they're going to think i'm some kind of whore,’ you catastrophized, the heat of the moment only intensifying the irrationality of the ideas.

furthermore, your boyfriend of one year, su-bong, had been ambitiously planning and curating a career in music longer than the two of you had been dating. su-bong, fortunately, found connections within the industry through social media and friends of friends of friends. he planned to begin his journey as a rapper as soon as he graduated. he would be incredibly busy, and you knew this. he would hardly have time for your relationship, let alone a child.

a ding from your phone pulled you from your thoughts back into reality. the screen lit up the opposite side of the bed, and you couldn’t make out anything other than your boyfriend’s contact name and photo on the lock screen.

'inhale, 2, 3, 4, hold... exhale 5, 6, 7, 8,' you repeated in your mind over and over, hoping that the breathing exercise would provide even an ounce of comfort, ‘you can do this, you can do this, you can do this.' the phone had shut off due to inactivity by the time you reached for it, only to light up again as you reluctantly opened his message.

you good ma? the text read.

though you could tell he meant no harm, the lack of seriousness in his tone only added to your anxiety, practically undoing the breathing exercises you practiced before. it took a few moments to build up your once more and finally respond.

~

“thats sick, bro,” su-bong spoke into the mic, conversing with his friend nam-gyu over discord, “yo, i need back up over here.”

su-bong had a habit of playing video games rather than focusing on his studies. ‘why does it matter anyways? i don’t plan on going to college,’ he would think. whenever he wasn’t with you (you were most always his first option after school), he would be on the game, either alone or with his friend. su-bong did, also, have a habit of keeping his phone close by, should you ask him to hang out or face time. it was nothing out of the ordinary when the screen lit up displaying your contact name. he glanced at his phone expecting to see, can we call? or want to go get ice cream? something sweet and innocent. the message, however, caused his heart to drop.

we need to talk, plz text me when you can.

su-bong absentmindedly abandoned his task in the game as his heart fell deep into his chest. he couldn't help himself, and immediately assumed the worst, ‘no way she’s about to break up with me.'

“are you lagging or something man? you���re boutta be killed!” nam-gyu’s voice rang through su-bong’s headphones, snapping su-bong back into the moment. su-bong didn't have the capacity to snap back at his friend as he usually would. instead, he spoke the first excuse that came to his mind.

“yo my wifi isn’t working, i gotta hop off."

“whatever bro, i’ll catch you later,” nam-guy answered, and su-bong didn’t stay on the call for a second more. he shedded the headphones and xbox controller from his body, and grabbed his phone already thinking of a somewhat unbothered and collected reply to send.

you good ma? su-bong finally decided on. though he held up his nonchalant persona, the message failed to reveal his concern for the situation at hand. he loved you, yet he couldn’t bare to be caught off guard; he would not allow anyone, not even you, to see him this troubled.

moments later, three dots appeared on this screen, indicating that you were actively typing a response. the dots lasted ages, he felt, or perhaps time slowed due to his anxiety. finally, a message came through.

i really need you to not get mad at me please subong

he sighed, knowing all too well what was about to happen. ‘who does she think she is breaking up with me over text?’ he thought, immediately replacing his feelings of sadness with outrage and anger. su-bong didn’t like to feel sad, and so he typically opted for harsher, more "acceptable for men" feelings. his inability to be vulnerable manifested in, almost, a superiority complex mixed with toxic masculinity ideals.

whatever, he typed angerly, your loss wom…

im pregnant.

the message appeared before he could even finish typing. he didn’t even have time to feel relief about the fact that you had not broken up with him (over text, too), as the news hit him like a truck.

~

its not that you wanted to tell him over text, in fact, you realized after the fact that it probably was a bad idea to do so… perhaps it was even disrespectful. in your delirious state, however, it seemed like the right move.

you stared at the i'm pregnant message on your screen, seeing no indication of him typing which was present moments before; it immediately stopped after you pressed send. you could hardly stay calm, especially knowing full well that he had seen the message.

you wanted to throw the phone, not to the end of the bed, but this time through the wall or out the window. your mind betrayed you; it craved a response but also begged to avoid it at all costs.

without realizing how much time had passed, you looked down at the screen, seeing that he already responded.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

it was 9:15 am on a saturday morning. su-bong pulled up and parked his car outside of your home, sending a quick message to let you know he had arrived.

you sat looking at yourself in the vanity mirror in your bedroom. a hand rested on your stomach, the supposed home of the child that had yet to develop. your emotions ran rampant the past week, and at this point you felt numb. though you felt you should be emotional, perhaps even crying, your body would not let you.

su-bong and you had come to the conclusion that termination would be the best option as you both had so much ahead, and since you both were far too young to be parents, let alone good parents.

your phone screen illuminated showing a message from su-bong. without even checking, you sprung into action. 'its time,' your mind thought as you pulled a crewneck (which previously belonged to him) over your frame, then grabbing your tote bag before making your way to his car.

su-bong picked up his head at the sound of the passenger side door opening, revealing you. he couldn’t bring himself to smile, and nor could you; he instead decided to place a light kiss on your cheek once you were seated, and he rested his hand on your thigh as he began to drive.

9:23 the clock read. you glanced out the window, remaining silent just as he did. the world around you seemed so normal; people walking in the neighborhoods, cars driving down the road, birds singing and flying in the sky. everything went on as normal despite your current predicament. the world had no idea what you were going through. it was painful in a sense, yet also beautiful how life could go on even in the midst of hardship.

a light squeeze on your thigh brought you back to reality. you turned to glance at the clock which now read 9:39. su-bong slowed down and turned into the parking lot of the clinic. it was hard to miss the small group of protesters on the sidewalk, attempting to dissuade individuals from stepping foot into the building. they sent glares you and su-bong’s way, intensifying your anxiety and bringing on a feeling of guilt.

as if su-bong could sense your unease, he spoke, “ignore them, ma.” upon parking the car, he held up his middle finger to the people that could see him, though it didn’t necessarily do much to calm you down.

once parked, su-bong reached into his pocket pulling out a disorganized wad of cash. the two of you worried about the funds needed to pay for the abortion, and came to the decision that no matter what, you would work together to cover the cost. over the past week, you collected money from your savings, as well as birthday and holiday money. you even went as far as asking your parents for some extra “gas money” to get you through the month.

he handed you the cash, which you placed in your pocket. the two of you exited the car and were immediately met with angry shouts from protesters. su-bong cursed at them, flicking them off once more, and attempted to guard your body from their view with his own.

once inside, you were immediately hit with freezing cold air and the scent of rubbing alcohol, typical of a doctors office.

the two of you made your way to the waiting area and stopped at an empty couch. “i’m going to go check in,” you said. he immediately pulled you into a tight embrace, resting his head on top of yours. he hoped that he could provide you with comfort, even if only a little.

“you can do this,” he whispered, “and i’ll be right here waiting for you.”

you wanted to sob in his arms and stay there forever, however you forced yourself into motion. taking a few deep breaths, you pulled away to look into his eyes, "i love you."

“i know,” he replied. he had never been comfortable saying the three worded phrase, which sometimes bothered you, however you know in your heart what he meant.

taking another deep breath, you pulled away completely and made your way to the receptionist. soon after, you were escorted to the back. soon the anguish will be over.

~

su-bong sat with his head in his left hand, his elbow propped on the arm of the couch. he struggled to keep his eyes open even though it had only been roughly 20 minutes since you disappeared from the lobby. he had no interest in his phone, nor the Weight Loss and PEOPLE magazines laid out on the coffee table in front of him. the televisions in the lobby displayed nothing; the room was practically silent aside from one or two conversations going on between others. very few people aside from him were in the clinic, and so he took the time to sit in solitude.

he slowly, though, began to doze off. just as he felt himself slipping into a light sleep, the door to the back burst open. you walked quickly, making a b-line straight for him. su-bong stood up, slightly startled, yet relieved to see you. the relief didn’t last very long though.

“can we go?” you asked in a hurried tone, “like, now?”

although confused, he shook his head yes, picking up his jacket from the couch, then following you as you hurried to the exit. once outside, you two were again met with shouting from the protesters.

before su-bong could retaliate, you grabbed his forearm, “please don't pay attention to them, lets just go.”

he fought against you for a moment, wanting nothing more than to approach and destroy the nagging individuals. however, he complied with your request once processing the urgency in your voice. he opened the car door for you, then quickly walked around the front, flicking the group off one last time before entering the car and driving away.

su-bong's mind wandered, though focused on driving. he felt somewhat afraid by your urgency, and also the fact that you started to sob silently. he placed his hand on your thigh just as he did on the ride before.

“so, uh, what happened in there?” he asked unsure.

“i-,” you spoke reluctantly between sobs, “i just… i couldn’t do it.”

su-bongs eyes widened and he immediately pulled his hand back to the steering wheel. “wh-what do you mean you couldn’t do it?” he stuttered, at a loss for words. he subconsciously began to speed up; he must have been going 15 miles per hour over the '25' limit at least.

“su-bong please slow down,” you petitioned in an attempt to stay calm. you could sense his negative emotions, and wanted to keep the conversation as mellow as possible.

“screw that, don’t try to change the subject, woman,” he demanded, allowing his anger to speak for him.

“don’t call me woman,” you, too, demanded, raising your voice to match his. the heat of the moment mixed with his anger caused you to lose your temper briskly, and abandon any attempts at a civil conversation, “you have no idea how i feel or how difficult it was to be in there.”

he scoffed in return. “you’ve got to be kidding me,” he spoke dismissively.

“don’t speak to me that way,” you said sternly, “its my body-“

“i get its your body-“

“and i don’t think i can do an abortion,” you cried.

su-bong shook his head in confusion, “what do you mean you don’t think you can do it? you had everything you needed back there, and we got the money to pay-“

“it’s not about the money, you don’t get it!”

“what am i not getting?” he shouted, slamming on the breaks and whipping the both of you forward. luckily, there was nobody else on the road.

“what am i not getting? huh? what, you want to be the knocked-up hoe in your college classes?” he taunted, raising his hands in confusion.

“stop yelling at me,” you begged, anxiety welling up and causing you to cry even more, "and don't you dare call me a ho-"

“you realize we’re kids ourselves, right? we shouldn’t he having a baby right now,” he interrupted, staring you dead in the eye.

“yeah well thanks for caring about what i think and feel. you’ve always been so great at that,” you scoffed, unbuckling your seatbelt and opening the car door.

“alright whatever,” he rolled his eyes, slamming his hands on the steering wheel, “walk then, bitch.”

“i was planning on it,” you sneered, slamming the door as hard as you could.

without hesitation, su-bong stomped on the gas pedal, practically leaving you in the dust. his actions caused you to let out an angry sob, yet your body began walking. you just wanted to be home.

seconds later, regret crept through su-bong's body. he realized how far you two were from your residence. as badly as he wanted to run from the situation, he realized he couldn't simply leave you, his love, alone to walk multiple blocks. he let out an angry groan, resisting the temptation to run. he changed gears, reversing swiftly back to you whilst rolling down the passenger side window simultaneously. he slowed down upon meeting you, placing his car back in drive. you, however, continued walking, attempting to pay him no mind. his anger only rose in reaction to your response; he had no desire to chase you down the block, “so you’re just gonna walk out of this car like that?”

“yeah thats exactly what i’m gonna do!” you shouted back.

“i can’t just leave you out he-“

“leave me alone.”

"listen to me-"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" you repeated, stopping to kick dirt toward his car.

“whatever," he scoffed, "FUCK YOU!”

“FUCK YOU,” you screamed. like the last time, he speeded off, leaving you by yourself.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

days went by, then weeks, then months with no word from su-bong. the first few days were debilitating. aside from the fact that you were experiencing an unplanned pregnancy, the love of your life had completely abandoned you when you needed him most.

eventually after a couple of weeks, still with no word from su-bong, you decided to come clean to your parents. it took a few days to muster the courage to inform them about the pregnancy, and how you were practically deserted in the situation. initially, they were shocked and disappointed not only in you, but also in su-bong for abandoning you. despite the pain it caused you, you understood. this was not part of the plan.

after the initial shock wore off, your parents showed compassion and sympathy for you, their dear daughter. they vowed to not only help you in any and every way, but also to be present in the situation. of course, their decision to do so provided you with a sense of comfort. however, the pain of losing su-bong still lingered in your mind.

~

two months later you stood adorned in your cap and gown. the line of back stage was long, yet you couldn't help yourself from searching for him in the sea of students. it was odd how he was a stranger to you now; so much time spent together all but flushed away.

su-bong's name was called far before yours, and you watched as he walked across the stage, posing for a photo with the principal. anxiety rushed through you; merely seeing him caused anguish to bubble and brew within you. your gaze didn't leave his body as he step down from the stage, oblivious to your intense observance.

you knew in your heart that it would be the last time you would see him. you knew it to be a fact especially in the weeks leading up to the ceremony. it had finally hit you, though, on this day, in this moment.

and so it was.

[dazevi]

PROLOGUE: DREAMS

heart to heart series | vi x fem!reader

synopsis: on a quiet afternoon after school, your girlfriend wonders and imagines what the future might look like for the two of you.

content warnings: fluff, impending angst (yikes), established relationship, highschool!vi and reader, eventual 18+ nsfw content in later chapters so MDNI.

wc: 2,294

navigation | series masterlist | ko-fi

note: very excited to share this with u guys! i spent most of january writing the first three chapters—most of them (not including this one) run on for about 10k words!! i also kind of half proofread each chapter so there still might be a few grammar mistakes. but i hope you guys like it!! also lovely fanart by bunimint_ on ig!

YOU ALWAYS LOVED DAYS LIKE THIS.

Days when the late afternoon sun spilled through the open blinds of Vi’s bedroom, yellow rays stretching lazily across her hardwood floor, onto her posters scattered and stuck on the wall. It was just another weekday after school and you found yourself sitting cross-legged on her bed, the worn quilt beneath you with its faded patterns due to years of use. A paperback novel rested in your hands, its pages slightly dog-eared from where you’d paused and flipped back to reread sentences that caught your attention.

Your eyes traced the words, but your thoughts occasionally drifted to the girl sprawled out in front of you.

She was lying on her back, her head resting in your lap, legs dangling off the side of the bed, toes tapping softly to the beat in her head. Her electric guitar—a faded, black and white instrument scuffed and scratched in a few places—rested on her stomach. The amp cord dangled uselessly off the bed, unplugged and forgotten, but she didn’t really seem to mind. Her fingers danced over the strings, plucking out random chords and melodies.

She wasn’t really playing anything in particular, just experimenting, testing things out. Sometimes a particularly sweet combination of chords would make her pause, and she’d strum it again, smiling faintly to herself.

Every now and then, she tilted her head to glance up at you, her light blue eyes softening each time.

You could feel her gaze, even when you pretended not to notice, too focused on the paragraph in front of you. You always found it hard to concentrate with her so close. Her presence filled the room, as it always did. The faint smell of her shampoo mingled with the slightly metallic scent of the guitar strings. You could feel her warmth where her head pressed against your thighs, and her fingers—rough and calloused—moved so delicately now, brushing over the strings like they might break.

“You always look so serious when you read,” Vi murmured suddenly. Her lips curled into a lazy grin as she tilted her head further back, her pink hair splaying across your lap. “What’s this one about? Another tragic love story?”

You glanced down at her, unable to suppress the smile that found its way onto your lips.

“It’s just for class,” you said, holding up the book for her to see the title. “I don’t exactly have a choice.”

Vi squinted at the cover, scrunching her nose. “Is it any good?”

“It’s okay,” you replied with a shrug, running your fingers absentmindedly through her hair. She hummed in approval, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment, like a little puppy basking in attention. “The writing’s good, at least. But you wouldn’t care—it’s not exactly your kind of story.”

“Oh, yeah?” Vi opened one eye, her smirk deepening. “What’s my kind of story, then?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart skipped a beat at the way she was looking at you, like you were the only thing in the room worth noticing.

“Something loud, fast, and reckless… full of action, I guess,” you teased. “Like you.”

“Fair enough,” she admitted with a smirk, plucking out a quick riff that sounded vaguely like a punk song you’d heard her play once before letting the guitar fall silent again. “But I think I’d make an exception for something you wrote.”

Your fingers froze in her hair, and you blinked down at her, startled. “Really?”

“Well, yeah. I like your writing. And… because it’d be you,” she said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Her voice was quiet now, and she lifted a hand to trace a lazy circle on the back of your knee. “You make everything interesting.”

You smiled again. You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything at all as you brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead.

Vi didn’t seem to mind the silence.

She went back to her guitar, strumming softly, her eyes drifting closed. The sunlight caught the curve of her cheek and the faint freckles scattered across her nose, making her look softer than usual. She looked so at peace, so content in your presence.

You never forget moments like these. With her head in your lap, the soft plucks of her guitar, the sunlight wrapping around both of you—it was all so achingly perfect that you wished you could freeze time and stay here forever.

Vi’s fingers slowed on the strings, the melody she had been absentmindedly strumming fading into silence. She tilted her head back further into your lap, the corners of her lips pulling into the softest smile as she gazed up at you. Like she was trying to memorize the way the light danced on your skin, the way your soft lips moved faintly as you read under your breath.

“I love you,” she murmured too quietly.

You paused, caught off guard, and glanced down at her. “What?”

Vi didn’t answer right away.

Instead, she reached up, her calloused fingers brushing gently against yours. She intertwined her fingers with yours, guiding your hand away from her hair. Her touch was uncharacteristically delicate, and before you could say anything, she pressed a featherlight kiss to the back of your hand.

Her lips were warm, slightly chapped, but the kiss was so soft, so tender, that it sent a shiver up your spine. And she didn’t stop there. Slowly, she trailed kisses along your knuckles, your palm, and then your wrist, her breath warm against your skin.

“I was saying,” she whispered between kisses, her voice barely above a whisper. “That you look beautiful.”

Your breath hitched, and your free hand instinctively reached out to touch her face, brushing your thumb along her cheekbone. Vi leaned into your touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

“You’re making me lose my place,” you teased, though it was clear you didn’t mind.

Vi chuckled, and she finally opened her eyes, meeting your gaze.

“Good,” she said with a grin, her voice still carrying that teasing lilt. “I like having your attention on me.”

Her confession made your cheeks flush, and you tried to look away, but Vi wasn’t having it. She tugged on your hand gently, pulling it to her lips once more, kissing your wrist one last time before cradling it against her chest.

She played with your fingers absentmindedly, her calloused thumb brushing over your knuckles, tracing the delicate lines of your skin like it was something sacred. The room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of the pages of your book and the muted sounds of life outside her window—a car passing through the neighborhood, a bird chirping in the distance.

You glanced down at her briefly. She seemed lost in thought, her thumb lingering on your ring finger as if it had found a home there. For a long moment, she said nothing, and you assumed she was simply daydreaming, unfocused on anything. But then, she spoke quietly, like the question wasn’t meant for anyone else—just for you.

“What’d you think we’d be doing in… I dunno, five—maybe ten years?”

The question caught you off guard, pulling you from the pages you’d been engrossed in. You marked your place in the book with a finger and looked down at her. Her gaze was fixed on your hand, her thumb still circling your ring finger, slow and soft. She hadn’t looked up yet, like she was too shy to meet your eyes after that question.

“Ten years?” you echoed softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “That’s a long time from now, Vi.”

She finally tilted her head up to meet your gaze, her blue eyes searching yours.

“I know,” she said with a quiet laugh, though there was an unmistakable seriousness beneath her tone. “I just… I think about it sometimes, y’know? Like… where we’ll be. What we’ll be like. Together, I mean.”

Her voice dipped on the last word, almost hesitant, like she was afraid to hope too much.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, brushing your free hand through her soft pink hair. “After I graduate college, I guess I’d want to be writing somewhere—maybe a bookshop owner, too. That’d be nice, I think.”

Vi smiled faintly, the image of you surrounded by books bringing an warmth to her chest.

“That fits,” she murmured, her voice gentle. “You’d have this cute little shop, and you’d always smell like old pages and coffee… maybe you’ll play that old Al Green record I got for you in the background… with flowers your mom brought for you sitting in a tiny pot by the window…” She trailed off, her smile growing wistful.

“Mhm,” you smile, the picture she was painting in your head almost felt tangible. “Maybe, an apartment nearby. With big windows for the sun to come in… A cozy kitchen to cook in with plants everywhere… A study for me to write in…”

“Do I fit anywhere in there?”

“Oh, definitely.” It’s impossible to fight the smile on your face from growing wider, “All your things would be everywhere, because you never clean… Guitar racks in the corner and a keyboard somewhere in the living room…Maybe you’d wanna set up a small bedroom studio. Oh, and you’re definitely hanging a punching bag somewhere.”

Vi let out a soft laugh.

“We’d probably have that karaoke machine you like so much by the TV… or a jukebox… And we’d have mismatching mugs sitting next to each other on the kitchen counter. Oh, and definitely a bed bigger than this one, since you move around too much—”

You pause.

“But, you’d probably be away most of the time.”

“Away?”

“Yeah,” you look at her with a soft nod. “You’d get your big break—music, touring… all that stuff. Heard Ekko’s all excited for this gig you’ve got next month.”

Vi let out a breathy laugh, “Hah, yeah, lots of other big bands are coming in for the musical festival, so… good start to get our name out there… But, band practice is still on hold until Jayce fixes Loris’ bass.”

“Mhm,” The smile on your face stays as you look at her longingly. “I see it y’know… You’re this big rockstar… posters of your band everywhere, big arenas, lots of fans squealing to get your attention…”

She grinned widely, “You think?”

You nodded in response, “Yeah. You’ll travel all around the world, experience a bunch of new things… and lots girls would have a crush on you, I bet… you’d be living your dream.”

“But it wouldn’t mean anything if I didn’t have you to come home to.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you couldn’t say anything. Vi glanced up, her lips quirking into a sheepish grin like she always does when she says something that gets your cheeks to turn the same color as her hair.

“I’m serious,” she added quietly. “I don’t want to think about a future where you’re not there.”

The softness in her voice made your stomach flutter, and without thinking, you leaned down to kiss her forehead.

“I’ll kill you if you use that line on anyone else,” you teased, though the sound of your voice was warm and full of affection.

“I know,” Vi admitted with a small laugh, pulling your hand closer to her lips. She kissed your knuckles softly, her eyes never leaving yours.

Vi didn’t say anything else after that. She just let herself fall into the silence, her guitar forgotten beside her, turning her body to have her arms lazily draped around your waist. She watched you as you shifted back into your book, your fingers idly tracing the edge of the page before turning it, completely unaware of the smile playing on her lips. You were so focused, so peaceful, so beautiful, and Vi couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world to be able to share her space with you.

Her gaze flickered to the faint glint of silver just visible under your collar, and with a careful hand, she reached up to tug gently at the chain around your neck. Her fingers brushed against your skin, and when she pulled the necklace free, her smile grew. Two small rings dangled from the delicate chain, their edges catching the soft light of her room. One was engraved with Roman numerals—she liked it because, well, it had her name on it—while the other glimmered faintly with small, clear stones that sparkled even in the dim glow. They overlapped perfectly, and that’s how Vi wants her relationship with you to be like all the time.

Vi turned the rings over in her fingers, tracing their familiar grooves. She played with the chain gently, letting it slip between her fingers as the rings swayed slightly against your chest.

Her own necklace felt heavy against her, the identical rings resting just beneath her shirt.

Satisfied with the way the rings settled back against your skin, she let the chain fall back into place and smiled at you, her thumb brushing over your collarbone.

Then, you continued to your book, and Vi just sat there, leaning into you, her fingers brushing softly against your thigh as she let herself bask in just being with you.

The future was such a big, hazy thing, full of unknown possibilities she couldn’t understand…. But sitting here with you, your hand still resting in hers, she felt nothing but excitement—hope, even—for whatever the world would throw at her, if it meant living in it with you.

But she didn’t know then how time and space would pull you both in different directions, that the version of forever she dreamed of in that moment would one day feel so far away.

series masterlist | next chapter (coming soon)

taglist: @norwayromanoff @killuomi @wicked-laugh @bunnyrose01 @jupitism @sawaagyapong @trulyzizi @saturnhas82moons @oidloid @mk-a-1 @pornoangelz @savedforlaterr @catrapplesauces @hphttydpjstarcaneetc @baylegend6 @auraclus @theapollochronicles @jivimatcha @chobssss @mystar-girl57

if you would like to be added to the taglist please leave a comment on the series masterlist post (its easier for me to track that way!)

[rarepairdumpster]

Casino AU Part 1

Pairing: Viktor/Silco (Arcane) Rating: M C/W: Mob Boss Silco, Viktor in a Dress, Teasing, Who will survive between two incorrigible flirts

Silco running a casino for the mob and Viktor being his pretty young husband that he met when he caught him counting cards.

Silco is completely smitten and marries him after only a couple months. He knows Viktor has his own agenda but trusts him implicitly. Viktor running most of the political bribery because he knows exactly what to say.

As long as Silco can make Viktor comfortable, he knows he doesn't have to worry.

That first night when Silco catches him though. Leaning over Viktor's shoulder, all confident and sexy, and Viktor thinks its gonna be a night of flirtation.

But Silco purrs in his ear instead, "You know, boy, card counting is against the rules."

Viktor's a little impressed that someone caught him and he still smiles like it was a compliment. 

"Is it?" He asks, tilting his face a little towards Silco. "I'm afraid I wouldn't know anything about that."

Silco tuts.

"Telling lies to the man who runs this place is a poor choice." His voice sharpens, gets louder. "Guards!"

Viktor turns fully towards Silco, letting his foot trail along Silco's leg. He reaches up and rubs the lapel of Silco's brocade vest between his thumb and forefinger, looking up at him sweetly. 

"I don't think we need to get them involved, do we?"

"I suppose alternative methods could be considered." Silco arches his brow, straightens, and steps back from those flirtatious hands. "Get up. Now."

Viktor smirks and goes to reach for his winnings, but Sevika has already sidled up next to him. She puts her hand down on the chips and shakes her head when Viktor follows the very muscular arm up to see who belonged to it.

He instead reaches for his cane and lightly hops off the stool towards Silco.

Silco leads him to the back office, and holds the door open so Viktor can step in ahead of him.

Sevika guards the door once Silco steps in and closes it.

Silco motions towards the empty chair in front of the desk and Viktor walks over and sits, crossing his legs and letting the slit of his blue satin dress open up over his knees. 

Silco walks up close to Viktor and leans up against the front of his desk, reaching behind and grabbing a cigar. 

"Now then," he chops the end of the cigar and sticks it in the corner of his mouth, "I'm afraid I can't have you manipulating my tables like that." Silco flicks his lighter then takes a puff. 

He then offers a light to Viktor, who has taken a cigarette out. Viktor looks up at Silco as he leans forward and accepts the flame at the end of his cigarette. "I'm happy to manipulate other things."

Silco smirks, but his gaze hardens.

"That line won't work on me, boy." 

He leans back and takes another slow puff.

"You have two choices. One: I can have you blacklisted from every casino from here to Timbuktu. Two: you take a position here."

Viktor raises an eyebrow, then takes a drag of his cigarette and breathes it out slowly. "A position?" He leans forward a little. "And I'm sure you don't mean the kind I'm usually offered."

"Deal cards for the House."

Viktor chuckles and leans back in the chair. "I'm afraid those uniforms aren't my style."

Silco smirked. "A plant, then. Watch the tables for me, play a little, flirt with guests if you like," he noticed he had Viktor's attention again. "You'll learn signals that will alert security to counters and others that may be trying to cheat the house."

When Viktor leans back, the hem of his dress slides that bit higher, and Silco gets the faintest tease of shadowy, bare skin between Viktor's thighs.

Silco absolutely looks, considers it briefly, and then pushes it from his mind.

He was here to work, not fuck.

"And would you be watching me?" Viktor asks, taking a drag of his cigarette.

Viktor's eyes are absolutely full of mischief, the little tart

"Some nights," Silco admits, and sees the corner of Viktor's mouth twitch up. "I do have other business to attend to."

"And what will you pay me?" Viktor raises an eyebrow. "I'll have to make it worth my while."

"All of our staff are well compensated." Silco taps the ashes from his cigar into his ashtray, and takes another puff. He let's out a ring of smoke before adding silkily, "There might be a bonus from time to time."

Viktor pretended to think about it, but if he was honest, he didn't have anywhere else to go. The other casinos he had been caught at only gave him a local ban, with a little coercion. It was clear Silco wouldn't be so easily swayed and he could be banned from every casino in the city.

"Fine then," Viktor shrugged. "When do I start?"

"Tomorrow night."

"I suppose that means I'm free tonight," Viktor smirked, a glint in his eye as he took another drag.

"But not free to roam the casino," Silco answers, a smirk of his own pulling at his lips.

Viktor stands up, leaning on his cane a little closer to Silco. "I don't mind changing my plans a little," Viktor leans closer next to Silco's ear. "I have a feeling our meeting was more fortuitous than any chips out there."

Silco turns his head slightly, breathes in the sweet and floral perfume, and eyes the curve of his jaw. Imagines biting it. Feels his cock stir at the thought.

Viktor leaves a soft, lingering kiss on Silco's cheek, then steps away towards the door. He raps on it, then turns to Silco with a smile. 

"We are done, yes?"

"Yes," Silco confirms, though his voice is slightly huskier than before.

Sevika opens the door and Viktor nods. "See you here tomorrow, Mr. Silco," Viktor winks before he steps though the door.

Silco sighs.

Sevika rolls her eyes -- because of course Silco was going to bend the little tart over his desk at some point.

Part 2

Arch + Woods

[teine-mallaichte]

Day 2 @andersweek2025 - Tender Tuesday

Post DA2 Anders with Autumn Hawke.

A short bit of fluff from my Anders/Hawke family, set just after Hawke returns from Skyfold and the Adamant.

Autumn paused as the barn came into view, her heart thudding in her chest. This was where she had left Anders and Storm six weeks ago, buying their safety for a time with a heavy pouch of coin and a quiet plea for the farmer’s discretion. She could only hope they were still here. It wasn’t uncommon for their little family to move suddenly—to hide, to run.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed onward. Varric had promised to help them find somewhere safe. Somewhere permanent. The thought was a fragile hope she clung to as tightly as the secret she carried now.

"Heartbeats. Not just one, but two. Small, but strong. Growing. They don’t know yet, but they feel you. Safe, warm, waiting."

Cole’s cryptic words echoed in her mind, a strange comfort and a weight all at once.

"One listens, quiet, careful, like steps on wet stone. The other burns bright, golden, like a spark that won’t go out. They are not afraid. They know you will keep them safe."

Her hand brushed instinctively over her stomach, where the faintest curve had begun to show.

As she stepped into the barn, a small figure collided with her side. “Mummy!”

Storm’s arms wrapped tightly around her waist, his face lighting up with a smile that banished weeks of worry in an instant.

“Hey,” she murmured, kneeling to hug him close. “Did you miss me?”

“Did you have a good adventure?” he asked, his blue-green eyes wide with excitement. “Daddy said you’d bring back stories.”

Autumn smiled softly, brushing his unruly red hair from his face. “I did,” she promised, kissing his forehead. “But I need to talk to your father first. Do you know where he is?”

Storm nodded, pointing toward the field. “He’s fixing the fence for the farmer man.”

She ruffled his hair gently. “Stay close, alright? I’ll be back soon.”

With a nod, Storm bounded off toward a pile of hay bales. Autumn stood, adjusting her cloak and heading toward the field.

Anders stood with his back to her, his golden hair tied messily at the nape of his neck as he worked on the fence. The rhythmic clang of hammer against wood filled the air, but it faltered when she called his name.

“Anders.”

He froze mid-swing, the hammer slipping from his grasp as he turned. When their eyes met, relief washed over his face, followed by something deeper. He crossed the distance between them quickly, pulling her into his arms as if afraid she might vanish.

“You’re back,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.

“I’m back,” she murmured, holding him close as she could already feel his magic ghosting over her skin, looking, searching for injuries.

"I have news," she said quietly.

Anders pulled back slightly, his hands lingering on her arms as his amber eyes scanned her face. “News?”

Autumn hesitated for a heartbeat, rehearsed words tangling in her throat. Instead of speaking, she took his hand and guided it to her stomach. The faint curve was barely noticeable, but when his palm rested there, the warmth of his magic seemed to settle, searching, sensing.

His breath hitched. His eyes darted between her face and where his hand rested. “You’re…?”

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered, her voice steady but soft. She swallowed and added, “It’s twins.”

Anders froze, his entire body going still as if the weight of her words had rooted him to the earth. “Twins?” he repeated.

Autumn nodded, watching the storm of emotions play across his face—shock, fear, awe, and something else, something fragile and hopeful. His hand trembled against her stomach, his magic flickering faintly as if responding to his turmoil. "Varric promised to help. To find us somewhere safe. No more running. We can be a real family, Anders."

“I…” His voice cracked, and he shook his head, letting out a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I can do this again, Autumn. Storm… I was so scared I’d ruin him, and now—”

Her hands came up to cup his face, “You won’t,” she said firmly, her blue eyes meeting his, “You didn’t ruin Storm. Look at him, Anders. He’s happy. He’s strong. He adores you.” She smiled softly, brushing a stray lock of golden hair from his forehead. “And these two—they’ll adore you too. Just like I do.”

[sibyllinebooks]

hi!! part two of the jealous stiles thing. please.

ohohoho *rubs my evil little hands together* i am SO glad you asked

stiles is tired. he was distracted the whole time at practice and he still can’t seem get the image of that guy flirting with you out of his head. it’s this thought that causes him not to notice you as you’re standing on the side of the lacrosse field, fiddling with your hands, until he practically runs into you.

“oh, hey.” his greeting is casual and his tone questioning, not like the usual playful smile and exuberant tone you’re so used to receiving but you decide it’s just because he’s not used to you being at school so late.

“hey. so my car totally died on me and my parents are stuck at work. can you give me a ride home?” your tone is sheepish, hesitant to ask since he’s been so unlike the usual stiles you know all day. but everyone else was already gone and you had no other choice.

how could he deny you?

“yeah. yeah, i’ll give you a ride home.”

your shoulders sag in relief as you both head to the familiar blue jeep in the parking lot. you’re both quiet as you walk but you’re almost certain you see him open his mouth and close it again several times, almost as if he wants to say something but then decides against it.

“so, the new guy thinks he wants to try out for lacrosse.”

it’s your attempt at starting a conversation but the comment has the opposite of your desired effect. you can hear his quiet scoff as he throws his lacrosse gear in the back and you turn your head as you climb in the passenger seat, catching his eyes that are full of an emotion you think is anger. or maybe annoyance. whatever it was, you knew it was unhappy.

“okay, seriously stiles? what is going on with you? you’ve been a total jerk all day and you’re barely speaking to me. did i do something?”

his gaze softens and you could swear that there’s remorse in the lines of his eyes as he looks at you. and he hates himself for making you think that he’s upset at you. for holding you at arms’ length when you had nothing to do with the new guy hitting on you. his ire could never be directed at you, especially not for this.

“no. ‘course not. just think it’s a little strange that this guy is here all of two seconds and already aiming for a date with the first girl he sees.”

your brows raise and he catches it, his face morphing into that embarrassed look you know so well as he sputters his next words.

“not- not that i mean he shouldn’t ask you out. i mean, if it were me and i had you offering to show me around, i’d ask you out too.”

“okay.” you purse your lips slightly, still not fully understanding what his problem is.

“i don’t say yes to dates with guys i just met, by the way,” are your next words as you look over at him. “i like to get to know someone first.”

his hair is still damp with sweat, one hand on the wheel of his jeep and the other resting on his leg as he sighs. you’ve never seen anyone be more attractive, never been more attracted to stiles as you are in this moment. he looks like a god, one you’d happily worship if he let you. ( on your knees. )

it takes a moment for your brain to fully process what his earlier statement implied, realization setting in your bones.

“wait. are you saying you’d ask me out?”

“depends on if you’d say yes. but you just said you don’t go on dates with guys you just met.”

“it’s a good thing i didn’t just meet you, then.”

the only sound is the way his breath hitches and his gaze becomes something you can only describe as predatory. like he wants to eat you alive, devour you whole. and that makes something in you snap.

you don’t say a word as you place your lips on his.

he wastes no time reciprocating, his hands finding your body and he tugs you, gently, from the passenger seat and into his lap. your hands thread through his hair, stopping at the nape of his neck. the way he kisses you is possessive, hungry, his hands holding your hips hard enough to bruise and you wish you’d known that all it would take for stiles to kiss you was someone else flirting with you.

you pull away breathless, his gaze causing shivers to run down your spine and set your body on fire.

“maybe i should make you jealous more often if it means you’ll kiss me like that again.”

“i’ll kiss you like that whenever you want.”

the confession makes your heart melt. and you can tell he means it, the way he’s looking at you like you’re the center of his world. you recognize it because it’s the way you’ve always looked at him and the way he used to look at lydia. you just never thought you’d see it towards you.

“i’m holding you to that.”

[sprout-fics]

when kyle and soap start to suspect fix and ghost are more than team mates do they flirt with fix or do something similar to try to rile simon up to see how he reacts?

I am STILL trying to figure out how Soap and Gaz and the rest of the team find out about Ghost and Fix because there's two different ways I want this to go and I can't decide which one is better.

The first is that the rest of the team doesn't realize how invested Fix and Simon are in each other until Fix goes MIA during her solo reconnaissance mission- and Ghost shirks command and goes after her by himself. That's when they realize just how invested Ghost is and that standing in his way means risking almost certain death.

The other option I've discussed extensively with @gazs-blue-hat is that Gaz, being the all-seeing gossip that he is, immediately picks up on things after Simon and Fix get back from their little Scottish vacation. When Fix is noticeably unsettled by the way Simon starts ignoring her after said vacation, she comes to Gaz for advice under the pretense of 'asking for a friend'.

Now- picture Gaz lounging in the rec room updating his tinder profile or whatever and slowly putting his phone down to stare at the ceiling with dawning dread and realization as he just goes "You fucked the lieutenant."

Fix tries to deny this of course, but there's no really getting past Gaz so instead she makes him swear to secrecy. Gaz might be an incorrigible gossip, but when someone asks him to keep a secret, he does.

At the same time this is happening, there's a universe in which @gazs-blue-hat's OC Eve 'Tens' Spade is in a enemies to lovers hookup situation with Soap. Somehow Soap finds out about Fix and Simon as well, and is similarly sworn to secrecy.

So Gaz knows, and Soap knows, neither of them allowed to tell each other or Price. Soap has Eve to talk to but Gaz doesn't have anyone- imagine his rage and despair when he realizes his best friend has been keeping the same secret this entire time while Kyle had to walk around base ALONE with the knowledge the team medic is regularly getting railed by his LT. There's nearly an incident report with the way Gaz throttles Soap and wails that they're friends, yea? Why would you keep this from me. You let me sit with this by myself? How could you, John?

To answer your question- They sometimes flirt with Fix just to wind up Ghost for sure, and Fix knows they're only playing. Ghost, however, gets back at them during takedown training and makes them tap out on the mats.

Either way when Fix and Simon elope after the whole Las Almas deal Fix silently tosses her updated file with her last name 'Riley' onto Price's desk.

Price, for what he's worth, falls out of his damn chair.