#and i want to put them down now while they’re somewhat concrete in my head

[h-worksrambles]

Dream Drop Distance And Why it Frustrates Me

Recently I’ve been thinking about Kingdom Hearts more and god….

Dream Drop Distance was such wasted potential.

And no, I’m not saying that because ‘time travel bad’, ‘Drop system bad’ but because the core concept is such a fascinating idea. Sora and Riku exploring dream worlds. The two are literally wandering through their own (and each other’s) dreams. That’s such an interesting way to let you explore these characters’ headspace’s, their thoughts, their feelings, their fears, their subconscious. This was Kingdom Hearts’ chance to go full Psychonauts. It also adds a lot of potential to the Disney worlds too. Instead of just repeating the movie plots, you can afford to go for much weirder, surreal interpretations of these locales. These worlds are literally dreaming. The laws of reality no longer apply in these spaces. The Sleeping Worlds could have been both fascinating abstract places to explore, and a way to explore these characters on a deeper level…

It’s just too bad that DDD does neither of these. For one thing, given the premise, it’s shockingly lacking in character development. Much has been said of how DDD actively hurts Sora‘s character. His naivety and childish streak are turned up to 11 and any edge or fire to his personality is scrubbed away. He’s led along by the plot with no skepticism of the events around him until he’s damselled in the finale. There is potential in the premise of ‘Sora’s naivety and love for his friends puts him in danger’…until you remember the series has done this before and done it better. Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories had Sora climbing further and further up Castle Oblivion out of the determination to save his friends, while the villains messed with his mind. But that game did a better job at keeping Sora in character and giving him more agency. When he does act out of character, being unnaturally aggressive, possessive and mean spirited, even to Donald and Goofy, it’s because that’s the point. Naminé interfering with his memories has actively made him a different person. It served the game’s message that your experiences are what make you who you are, and that hypothetically, if someone were to change or replace those formative moments, you would not be the same. Sora’s campaign in DDD isn’t done in the interest of exploring a theme, or doing something new with his character. It is a plot convenience that needs to happen so that Riku can save Sora at the end.

And perhaps this is a controversial take given that this is effectively his game, but Riku’s character arc is not much better. The setup is promising. Riku thinks that ‘darkness still has a hold’ on his heart and he wants to know if he’s still worthy of the Keyblade. When you take out the ‘light/darkness’ jargon, what Riku is looking for is redemption. He’s been forgiven by his friends for the wrongs he’s done, but he hasn’t forgiven himself. With that in mind, having him go through Disney worlds is a good idea. The last time Riku went world hopping in KH1, he was Maleficent’s puppet and was actively making things worse there. He kidnapped Jasmine, he nearly killed Pinocchio, he attacked Beast. This time, he can go through the worlds helping people like Sora has, proving that he’s grown and changed (in part becoming more like Sora)…

And then Ansem shows up. And any potential for Riku’s story is sucked out by one of DDD’s biggest flaws: its insistence on dredging up the past rather than doing anything new. Now any new exploration of Riku forgiving himself, or showing us what his ‘use both light and darkness’ approach actually looks like in practice, is thrown out for a repeat of his Chain of Memories arc. We’re right back to ‘use the darkness’, ‘No’. Riku has already shaken off Ansem, he’s made his peace with his place in the balance of light and darkness. He didn’t need to go through this again.

DDD is often praised for its exploration of Sora and Riku’s relationship (sometimes joking called ‘the Soriku game’). And yes, this is probably the one thing I think really works about the game’s story. The moments where Sora and Riku reflect on how much they trust each other, or where Riku compares how Sora has helped him grow to Pinocchio and Jiminy, are good. Riku ending the game by saving Sora from falling into darkness like Sora once did for him, is an excellent point to close out the game. But it would have been even better if DDD had committed to exploring these characters on a deeper level, really showing how they’ve grown both separately and together. Instead, they both regress so the plot can have then redo characters arcs they both have done before, but worse. What is supposed to be a game about how much they’ve grown together ends up doing the exact opposite. I think their bond is incredibly wholesome but it could have been showcased so much better.

And it’s maddening because there are moments when DDD comes so close to getting this right. When Sora wanders The World That Never Was, we see him meet all the people he’s connected to and how he feels about them. He sees Naminé and wants to finally thank her for all she’s done. He sees Xion but doesn’t remember her. He meets Roxas and tries to apologise for everything that happened. He talks about how it’s not fair that Roxas had to go away for Sora to go on living, and how he wants Roxas to have the chance to be his own person. This is probably the best scene in the game. Because it’s the one moment the game actually does what it should have been doing all this time: use the premise that Sora and Riku are dreaming to show us what they’ve been thinking and feeling on the inside but never actually said. Sora had never commented on the tragedy of Roxas’ story before now, and this desire to save him goes on to be a huge motivator for him in Kingdom Hearts 3. It’s a moment that showcases Sora’s empathy but also his growing maturity, that he understands the Nobodies’ plight now in a way he didn’t entirely back in Kingdom Hearts 2. But this is really all we get in terms of new character work for Sora. And because his character has been so dumbed down throughout the rest of the game, it actually feels a little out of nowhere.

Imagine if this was a fixture of the entire game. If Sora and Riku were confronting dreams that reflected these inner thoughts throughout the whole game. If Riku really is Sora’s Dream Eater, why not let him see Sora’s dreams? Allow him to see what’s going on behind the cheerful grin and get more insight into his best friend’s hidden insecurities? If Riku wants to be more like Sora, give him a sight what it’s like to BE Sora. It would lead even better into the depiction of Sora’s doubts in Kingdom Hearts 3.

But, like many Kingdom Hearts games, we spend more time hopping through Disney World retellings that don’t meaningfully enhance the plot or characters (the closest is Sora’s encounter with Tron in The Grid and it doesn’t go anywhere near far enough). And remember what I was saying about how if the worlds are dreaming we have a chance to get really weird and abstract with how these worlds play out? Yeah, we only get scraps of that. Traverse Town being split in two is interesting and a fun way to homage the combat of The World Ends With You. Prankster’s Paradise repeating the same point in time on loop is a neat concept. But that’s the most the game ever does with this idea. It’s a shame because I think using oddball world choices was the right move for this setup and I’m thrilled to finally get a Fantasia world. It’s yet another part of the game that feels like unrealised potential. Of the game wasting time when it could be developing its characters.

I have a lot of nostalgia for Dream Drop Distance. It was the first Kingdom Hearts game I got to play on release after getting caught up with the series. It was a fun game to play on the go as a kid. But the more time goes by, the more problems I have with it. I didn’t even touch on the gameplay aspect (and I could say a lot about my problems with Dream Drop Distance’s gameplay). But even aside from the more shark jumping aspects, the story frustrates me because it could have been great. But ultimately I think DDD suffered because it tried to be too many things. It wanted to be a nostalgic trip down memory lane for the 10th anniversary that ruminates on Sora and Riku’s growth and relationship, while pitting them against classic villains for extra nostalgia. It also wanted to be the next chapter in the series’ ongoing story. But it couldn’t wrap that up as it also needed to be the warmup for the long awaited Kingdom Hearts 3. So we get a game whose attempts to do something new are hobbled by a need to revisit things it didn’t need to. Instead of establishing a new threat, it brought back characters well past their expiration date. Instead of doing anything new with the characters, it wallows in ideas and characters arcs they’ve already gone through, without quite getting why they worked the first time to begin with. And while I don’t want to get into the controversy over Kingdom Hearts 3, I feel a lot of that would have been avoided if this game had done a better job leading into it.

Dream Drop Distance really could have been something. But all it ended up doing was doing these two characters dirty.

[14buddy22]

I BRING HOTCH FLUFF REQUEST!!!

Aaron getting hurt somewhat badly on a case and having to actually relax and recover at home?? Reader and Jack just pampering and spoiling him to the max because they’re rarely able to and Aaron learning to enjoy it and actually spend time with the fam while he can :,)

Thank you thank you thank you! I hope you like this <3

Aaron going head to head with an unsub and actually losing is rare. Well, he didn't actually lose, but he did take a tumble down the stairs before Derek managed to help Aaron in the fight.

And while Aaron took a tumble down the stairs, he smacked his head hard against the concrete wall. Not only did he have to get stitches, but he also had a concusion. On top of that, he had broken his arm and a rib, and twisted an ankle as well.

So, that put the strict unit chief out of commision for a while.

Taking Aaron home from the hospital, you helped him get out of the car. He swore it was fine but you refused to let him walk out by himself.

You raced out of your side of the car like you were a little kid going to get ice cream. As you grabbed him out of the door, you put you arm around him and helped steady his walk to your home.

Walking inside, you were met with Jess and Jack with a "welcome home dad" sign. While Jack was 12, he loved his father, and he raced to him to give him a huge hug.

When you walked Aaron over to the couch, you and him thanked Jess profusely. You watched as Jack clinged to his Dad's side, turning on a movie and pulling a blanket over them.

You started to cook dinner when you heard Aaron say, "Let me come help you."

Not in a million years were you going to let your injured husband cook dinner with you.

"No. It's my turn to spoil you. You take care of me and Jack when we get sick, now you're injured, let us take care of you."

You made dinner with ease, moving effortlessly around the kitchen. As you served Aaron dinner on the couch. You made a plate for Jack to eat next to Aaron.

Eating dinner with your 2 favorite boys in the whole world never got old. As Aaron was the Unit Chief still, there wasn't much time to have him around. You cherished every second you got to have with Aaron.

You knew the next 4 weeks were going to be great having him around. It's a blessing in disguise for you and Jack. You guys get to have Aaron all to yourselves. No interrupted nights, meals, or activities. He was yours and Jacks for 4-6 weeks.

The first week at home, Aaron was very reluctant to let you and Jack do anything for him. He wanted to do everything. He was a stubborn man, but one look from you and Jack and he immediately realized that instead of needing to do something for himself, all he needed to focus on was getting healthy for you and Jack.

You and Jack were always pampering him with whatever he needed. Snack? Jack knew which one Aaron would love. Blanket? You put those within reach of Aaron. Movie? You and Jack had a list of movies you two wanted to watch with Aaron.

While Aaron was gone most of the time, it was nice to soak up this time with Aaron. You guys are rarely able to have this time together. You think Aaron was starting to realize that. The way Jack clung to him every day, didn't want to go play with his friends as much, Aaron realized that while it sucked to get hurt, he needed this. He needed to spend time with his son, with his wife, he needed to relax. We all know relaxing isn't in his vocabulary.

Aaron couldn't help but fall harder in love with you. He was head over heels in love with you, but now you were taking care of him, and his son, the house, and working later at night when needed, he was amazed. He loved you.

As you laid down in bed next to him for the night, he pulled you in close, kissing you.

"Thank you. I know it's probably what you expected to use with your vacation time, but I appreciate you pampering me. I feel so loved in a way I've never felt loved before. I know we've been married for 2 years, and you love me every single day, but this is something new I haven't gotten to experience yet. Pampering me and making sure I'm okay. I love you so much. Please don't ever forget that."

"How can I forget, Aaron? I'm a Hotchner now."

He chuckled at your expression. Of course you were going to ignore his appraisal for loving you so much.

"Thank you. I was taking life with you for granted and never again will I do that. Thank you for being you. Thank you for loving me and all that comes with it. This time off has made me focus on myself and my family. The two most important things. Without me, there is no us. I'm gonna take care of myself, apply for the section chief job, work 9-5 and be home for you and Jack. I think at this time in his life, he needs me. I've also loved every minute of our family time together. And of course, staying on the couch and never having to move when I'm home. Might just fake an injury for the rest of my life."

You scoffed at that and pulled at the back of his head, away from yours.

"You wish Hotchner, but you're going to have to do ALOT of making up for this when you're cleared for strenuous activities."

With that, he leaned over, kissed you, and fell asleep shortly after he heard you softly snoring.

[seasonofthewicth]

Rowaelin Month - Day 3

prompt: a secret relationship

extras: multiple povs

cw: one very brief mention of nsfw topics

word count: 3k

--

Fenrys knows his friends think of him as the joker of the group, and yeah he is hilarious, but there’s more to him than that. He can read the room, can pick up on the subtleties of whichever of his friends might need one of his jokes more than others on any given day. It’s a skill that makes him observant, watchful of people, and he notices things.

He’s not sure if Rowan and Aelin think they’re being subtle, and he’s not sure which of his other friends have picked up on the same things he has, but he’s pretty sure Aelin and Rowan are sleeping together.

He’s not completely sure, he doesn’t have any concrete evidence and they still act normally in the group, but he knows what he saw on the night of Elide’s birthday. He and Rowan have lived together for years and Aelin has crashed at theirs any number of times before but, until that night, she’d never emerged from Rowan’s bedroom the morning after wearing one of his t-shirts.

The material had completely drowned her. The short sleeves had hung to her elbows and the hem had been well down her thighs. She’d seemed somewhat… sneaky as she’d crept into their kitchen in search of coffee.

He knows not to read too much into things, friends share clothes all the time. He’s lost many hoodies to the collective wardrobe owned by their group of friends and he’s still pissed at Lorcan who he knows still has his The Cadre t-shirt from the gig they had attended a few years ago.

What Fenrys also knows is that friends don’t stand at the kitchen counter, holding the neckline of their friend’s shirt to their nose and grinning like an idiot.

He needs to speak to Aedion.

Elide has been friends with Aelin for years and that is more than long enough to know she’s almost always guaranteed to be late to their coffee dates. She’s not bothered, it gives her a few extra minutes to sip away at her own coffee reading her book with the general hum of the coffee shop lulling her into a comfortable rest.

It’s not long before her friend breezes into the coffee shop, the bell above the door ringing and signalling her entrance. It’s very Aelin, her entrance. The wind sweeps in fluffing her golden waves and her steps are full of purpose as she strides towards Elide.

“Sorry I’m late.” Aelin all but throws herself into the seat opposite Elide, smiling a bright smile for the relatively early morning they’re sharing.

“Don’t worry about it,” Elide says, finishing off her final swig of her first coffee. “Want me to go and get our drinks?”

“No, Ellie,” Aelin says, waving her hand. “First one’s on me. I was late, I’ll make it up to you.”

Aelin squeezes her hand before breezing back out of her seat.

She’s back only a couple of minutes later, finally relaxing into the large armchair she occupies. “So, what’s new with you?”

“Nothing much,” Elide shrugs. “Work is tough but nothing I didn’t expect.”

“I’m sure you’re smashing it,” Aelin says with a grin, then places her hand against her chest. “My little Elide, registered nurse taking the world by storm.”

Elide smiles, it feels good to hear those words, after all the sleepless nights and sweat and tears she’s finally where she wants to be.

Aelin continues, “You’re not pushing yourself too hard are you?”

“No,” she says and it’s the truth. “And even if I was, Lorcan is being wonderful.”

Aelin fake gags and Elide shoots her a mostly joking glare. “I find that hard to believe.”

“He is,” she says, thinking of the bath he had drawn her the night before and the massage he’d given her when she complained of her feet aching.

Aelin shifts in her seat as she nods along and the neck of her t-shirt slips down to reveal the ghost of a hickey on her friend’s collarbone. Elide raises an eyebrow.

Aelin looks down before grinning wickedly.

“Anything new with you?”

Aelin’s answer is interrupted by the arrival of their coffees in the hands of a handsome waiter.

“A large mocha,” he says and Elide raises a hand, “and a large cappuccino with cinnamon.”

Aelin raises her own hand. The waiter sets their drinks down, his eyes lingering on Aelin for a minute before he slowly backs away.

“Enjoy,” he says, his eyes still locked on Aelin. “Let me know if you need anything.”

He turns with a wink and Elide raises her other brow at her friend.

“Are you going to get his number?”

Aelin shakes her head. “Not today.”

Elide hums a response before leaning forward in her seat. “Why? You’d usually be all over someone like him, he’s exactly your type. Tall, muscular without being jacked, his curly brown hair, cheeky smile…”

She trails off when Aelin cracks a smile. “I guess I’m just not feeling it today.”

Elide wants to ask why again, she honestly might go over and get the guy’s number for her friend, when Aelin changes the subject rapidly.

“Are you going to Rowan and Fenrys’ later?”

Elide doesn’t process the change of topic until a little later on, once a couple more pieces have slotted into place. Eventually she’s pretty sure she’s worked out why Aelin didn’t want the cute coffee guy’s number.

She needs to speak to Lorcan.

Lorcan Salvaterre doesn’t like Aelin Galathynius.

He tolerates her at best for the sake of the rest of their friends but that said, he still probably wouldn’t want to see her hurt.

When Lysandra puts the message in the group chat-At the hospital with Aelin, dw they think it’s just a sprain-he reads it, absently thinks how he probably hopes she’s okay, and moves on with his day. He’s on his way to meet Rowan at the bar and if anything, Galathynius would want them to raise a toast in her honour.

What Lorcan doesn’t expect is the restless jittering of his best friend’s leg beneath the table, sloshing precious droplets of beer onto the table that his friend doesn’t even seem to notice.

“What’s the matter with you?” he asks as he slides onto his seat opposite the silver haired man.

“Nothing,” Rowan says quickly but his leg keeps up the restless pace.

Lorcan signals to the bartender for his own beer and turns back to Rowan. “Dude, chill out. There’s clearly something up with you and I’m not having you spill my pint.”

Rowan finally notices the state of their table and stills his leg. “Sorry,” Rowan says, using some of the beer mats scattered across their table to mop up the spill.

Now Lorcan really is confused. Usually Whitethorn would cuss him out over apologising. He doesn’t really know what to say.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he ignores it as Rowan lurches for his own phone. He reads whatever’s on the screen then scowls and locks it again, placing it face up on the table. His knee begins bouncing again.

“You’re being weird,” Lorcan announces.

“Fuck off,” Rowan says and there’s the Whitethorn he knows and loves.

Lorcan opens his mouth to speak again but his phone buzzes and Rowan again lurches for his own. He chews at his lip as he reads whatever’s on the screen and so Lorcan bothers to dig his own phone out of his pocket.

It’s the group chat. He has a couple of unread messages, just Aedion and Elide expressing their concern for Galathynius as expected, nothing exciting. He locks his phone and places it on the table in front of him, watching Rowan for his next move. He’s definitely being weird and Lorcan has no fucking clue why.

His phone buzzes again and the screen lights up with the latest message. It’s Galathynius, he can tell from the stupid crown profile picture she has.

I’m alive, her message reads, just a sprain but I’m gutted bc I wanted a cast so you all could sign it.

Rowan is on his own phone when Lorcan looks back up, he’s tapping away but Lorcan doesn’t see any messages from him in the group chat. His knee has stilled under the table and Lorcan swears there’s something that looks like relief on his face. Relief? As if there was ever any danger of Galathynius not being fine.

Wait.

“Why the fuck are you so worried about Galathynius?”

Rowan’s eyes narrow and he carefully tucks his phone back into his pocket.

“I’m not,” he says but it sounds somewhat like a question and Lorcan isn’t convinced.

Until he decides he doesn’t give a shit enough to ask any more questions, Whitethorn seems back to normal and if Galathynius being fine is the reason for it he can think about it later.

And probably speak to Fenrys.

Aedion is drunk.

Like truly and utterly wasted.

So far a good night.

The rest of the group are somewhere dispersed around the bar but he’s happy here, tucked up in their booth, resting his head against the cushioned velvet while the room spins around him. He’s pretty sure Aelin is still in the booth with him and it might be Rowan with her but he’s too lazy to open his eyes to check.

He can hear the pounding base of a song he doesn’t recognise and he could fall asleep right here, somehow lulled to sleep by the beat and the volume of alcohol he’s consumed.

He doesn’t mean to listen to Aelin and Rowan’s conversation, even though he’s pretty sure it’s not intruding if they know he’s sat right there, but pieces of their conversation spike his attention.

“You don’t want me to stay at yours tonight?” he hears Aelin ask and Aedion is intrigued.

Lysandra is out tonight so Aelin has a safe ride home with her roommate and no need to crash at Rowan and Fenrys’ apartment.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to.” Rowan’s voice is low and hard to hear over the music. “But Fenrys is out with us and if I say I want to leave he’ll join me, then you know he’d ask questions.”

Aedion from tomorrow is screaming at him to pay attention to this conversation and so he keeps his eyes closed to try and listen in. He’s almost holding his breath to try and hear their voices over the noise of the bar.

They’re quiet for a moment and he’s so tempted to crack his eyes open.

“I know,” he finally hears Rowan say. “I’m sorry, Fireheart. We will.”

Hearing the term of endearment drop off Rowan’s lips is too much, it’s weird, he didn’t realise the two of them were close enough for Rowan to know about the nickname his cousin has. He risks opening one of his eyes to just a thin slit.

He’s not ready for what he sees.

Aelin is tucked under Rowan’s arm, resting her cheek on his chest. Rowan’s chin rests on the top of his cousin’s head before he softly presses his lips to her hair.

Aedion has many questions. He immediately closes his eye. He’s drunk, he can’t trust his eyes.

He hears rustling and then definitely his name from his cousin but it doesn’t sound like she’s talking to him.

Then, “Aedion.” Rowan’s voice has him blinking his eyes open and lifting his head from the booth.

They’re separated now, sitting with a couple of inches between them on the seat. Maybe he didn’t see them cuddled up a minute ago, he’s not sure.

“Drink this.” Rowan is holding out a glass of water, his tone leaving no room for protests.

“Hey,” he hears how slurred his voice is and catches Aelin’s laughter. “Thanks bro.”

Aelin puts her face in her hands. Rowan doesn’t crack, just waves the glass of water in front of him. He reaches out to grab it but he can see more than one of his hand reaching for the glass.

“Gods,” Aelin says, looking at Rowan. “Maybe you should take him home.”

“I will,” Rowan agrees quickly, looking at her softly and Aedion has about a million more questions. “I’ll get him to drink this first.”

Aelin nods and he finally manages to take a hold of the water and downs it in about a minute. Rowan slides out of the booth and holds a hand out to Aedion. He lets his friend tug him up and begins his stumble to the exit.

He feels Rowan pause behind him and catches the words, “meet you at yours afterwards.”

He manages to spin and see Aelin smiling as she leaves the booth too. He doesn’t bother to think about it, he probably won’t remember tomorrow.

He’ll ask Lysandra.

Aelin’s hand is clammy where she holds Rowan’s.

It’s the only sign of the nerves she feels, this conversation has been brewing for a while, and regardless of their friends’ reactions she’s happy with Rowan. Honestly, it’s only been about a month in total since that one night for Elide’s birthday that changed everything, but she thinks she might be falling for him.

She can’t believe she thought he was a dick when they first met. Well, she supposes he is a dick. One of the first things he ever said to her was that she was a spoiled brat but, in his defense, she’d just called him a stuck up bastard.

Now though she loves the thrill of his quick mind. Loves the way he can tease and taunt her until she’s trembling beneath him and about a second away from begging. She loves the soft kisses he presses to her hair when he knows she’s had a bad day, she loves when he comes back from work with a slice of chocolate hazelnut cake under his arm because he knows it will make her smile.

What she doesn’t love is keeping this a secret from all of their best friends. It started out as embarrassment, after they slept together on Elide’s birthday she didn’t know what it was, didn’t know if they’d just fucked everything up, didn’t know if their friendships were about to implode.

But then it happened again, and again and again, until it’s four am and she’s pressing her lips to his one last time so she can sneak out without Fenrys noticing and be home before Lysandra wakes up.

The sneaking around was hot at first. His hand over her mouth holding in her whimpers as he fucked her on the couch he shares with Fenrys, when he slid the pillow between her bedframe and the wall when Lysandra had texted asking if she could hear that weird banging noise, all the times they had cut it a little too close. But now, it’s exhausting.

She wants to be able to hold Rowan’s hand and kiss him without the wariness pooling in her stomach and she knows he feels the same.

“Guys,” she says loudly to the room filled with their friends. Rowan squeezes her hand where they’re hidden beneath a couch pillow. “We have something to tell you all.”

Five pairs of eves pivot to her and she swallows.

“Rowan and I are… dating,” she says slowly, as though she’s unsure of how the words will go down.

There’s a beat of silence before their friends erupt.

“I knew it!”

“I fucking told you they were.”

“Pay up you bastard.”

Lorcan scowls, pulling out his wallet and Aelin blinks. She did not expect this.

“Wait.” Lorcan holds up a hand. “Before I hand over any cash we need details. Dating or in a relationship? How long have you been dating? Who asked who? Who started this? Most importantly; when?”

She looks to Rowan who’s green eyes reflect her own bewilderment.

“Um,” he starts unsurely, “we’re in a relationship.” He punctuates this with another squeeze of her hand and she grins. The feeling of his fingers linked through her own spreads warmth up her arm before settling in her chest. “It started a few weeks ago.”

Her friends are all leaning forwards, still waiting.

“When exactly?” Lysandra asks. “Like what was the date?”

“Well, the first time was the night of Elide’s birthday.”

Fenrys launches himself out of his seat. “I fucking told all of you.” He holds his right hand out starkly in front of him. “Pay up all of you, I was right.”

There are complaints and grumbled protests but Fenrys ends up with a handful of twenties and Elide a couple of notes herself.

“Wait,” Aelin says, brushing a hand across her forehead as if this will somehow clear it up. “You guys bet on us?”

That seems to still the commotion coming from the other side of the room.

It’s Aedion who speaks. “Yeah,” he says in a way that sounds like duh. “You didn’t think you were subtle did you?”

“Kind of,” Rowan says eventually, leaning forwards to brace his elbows on his knees. “We weren’t obvious. And none of you ever seemed to let on.”

“Bro, are you serious?” Aedion laughs as Elide and Lysandra snicker.

“You seriously thought we never knew?” Lysandra sounds as baffled as Aelin feels. “All those texts I sent when I knew he was over? All the mysterious unnamed hook-ups on nights you and Rowan both disappeared together? All the times you’d think you were subtle but your lipstick would be on his neck? We have been waiting for this.”

She’s laughing and Aelin feels a bubble of laughter in her own throat. She can’t believe it. It had seemed to reach a point of obviousness but none of them had ever commented.

“I can’t believe you all knew,” she cries burying her face in her hands as Rowan slings an arm around her shoulders and pulls her in close. “Why did none of you say anything?”

“It was against the rules of the bet,” Fenrys says seriously and Rowan uses his other arm to dig his bicep, his laughter rumbling in his chest beneath her.

She smiles into the fabric of his shirt as the group erupts again, bickering over who knew first and who knew the most. Aelin doesn’t care, it’s gone better than she could have imagined and she has Rowan and her friends and she loves them.

A secret relationship no longer. It feels good.

[meetmyblondemuffins]

Movie Antics

Warnings: unprotected sex, exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex

“Tickets for two,” I said enthusiastically to the man standing behind the glass of the old, worn ticket booth. I heard an exaggerated sigh coming from the right of me. Looking over at Sirius, I raised my brows and jutted out my bottom lip, attempting to make him feel somewhat guilty. I squeezed his large hand and further intertwined our fingers. “You’ll live, Siri. It’s only a couple of hours.”

I’d been dying to see this new independent film that had been released a few weeks ago. I had been putting off watching it for some time now because I wanted to watch it with Sirius. I could tell he would’ve preferred being left behind. The entire ten blocks we walked from the cinema he drug his feet like a child who was being forced into a dentists’ office. I was surprised he didn’t throw himself on the concrete; kicking and screaming. Although he didn’t throw a complete tantrum, he did try making up a thousand excuses as to why he absolutely couldn’t bear to see one second of this ‘horrendous-looking film’.

It started from the second we stepped out of the front door and into the chilly breeze of a typical, dreary London day.

“Look how gloomy it is. It’s bound to rain—we should stay in tonight.”

“It’s gloomy every day, Sirius. And besides, I brought an umbrella.”

“But… why walk allllll the way to the cinema in the cold when we could snuggle up in a perfectly warm bed?” I giggled at his suggestion.

“Yeah, I’m sure all you want to do is snuggle up in bed.” I knew that for a fact, Sirius wanted much more than to lie in bed when he’d already try to rid me of my clothing minutes before leaving the house.

He seemed more sex-driven the past few days than I’d seen him before. Everywhere we went, he was ready to go; whether he spontaneously suggested the idea while lounging around at home, or in complete public. Refusing a cluster of his many advances always guaranteed nothing less than spectacular sex later on. It’s like all of his built-up sexual tension was released all at once; It was fantastic.

As soon as we bought our tickets and concessions, we walked into the dimly lit theatre. Scanning the rows of chairs from left to right, I noticed that not a single chair in the entire room was occupied. I supposed nobody was up for a film on a greyer-than-usual Sunday afternoon.

Sirius walked to the first row that was closest to the entrance, leading me with my index finger wound around his. We sat towards the middle of the row.

I would’ve preferred to sit closer to the front, if even just a few rows, but I decided to cut my pouting, child-like boyfriend a bit of slack. Sirius slouched down in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest as the lights dimmed to complete darkness. Immediately following, lights of the previews that covered the far wall flooded the room. It was almost blinding.

Looking over at the silhouette of Sirius’s profile, the glow of the projection outlined the miserable look he had plastered on his face. I almost felt bad for dragging him here, but on the other hand, I think he was being a drama queen about the entire situation.

Reaching over the popcorn that I had resting in my lap, I brought the armrest that was separating us to a vertical position so that I could scoot closer to him. I rested my head on his shoulder and whispered into his ear, his flyaway curls brushing against my cheeks.

“I really appreciate you being here, you know.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, lightly kissed my temple, and rested his cheek on the top of my head. So he wasn’t completely resenting being here after all.

Sirius and I always did things for each other that we didn’t particularly want to do. We wanted each other to be happy, and it made our relationship stronger as a whole. I was awoken in the middle of the night to him leaving to go prank students with the other marauders and he went to nearly abandoned cinemas to watch films that he had no-to-negative feelings towards. It balanced out evenly.

Halfway through the movie (and also the bag of popcorn), Sirius’s arm that was resting across my shoulders made its way down to my hip. He leaned in to whisper into my ear.

“It’s not too late to get out of here. We could go out to a nice dinner, go for a romantic stroll through the park,” he drug out the ‘a’ in park, “anything. Anything you want.” Turning my full torso toward him, I cocked my head to the side as to say ‘why, why do you do this to me, Sirius Orion Black’. His expression was originally full of hope—hope that I thought this movie was as terrible as he’d predicted before we’d gotten here.

“Anything, huh?” His eyes filled with glee. But his face dropped immediately as I said:

“Well, I want to stay here.”

He went back to slouching in his chair, his head meeting the back of the headrest. I couldn’t stand seeing him act like this anymore. There was no way I was leaving this cinema until the film came to an end; but perhaps I could offer him a deal.

“If you stay until the end, I’ll do whatever you want afterwards.” A smirk form across his lips and I knew exactly what he had on his mind.

Moments later, I was once again engulfed in the film. The main characters had defied their near-impossible chances of being together, and the romantic/sexual portion came to its peak. I felt Sirius’s lips sneak below my earlobe and begin a trail to my collarbone. “I said afterwards, don’t be so eager,” I said placing my hand on his chest in an attempt to stay focused on what was happening between the characters.

“C’mon, even these poor bastards on screen are enjoying themselves. It’s like they’re mocking me.”

“Well I’m enjoying myself. And what, is ‘fucking in a movie theatre’ something you were planning to cross off of your bucket list before you die?”

“Well it wasn’t before but,—“ I cut him off with a look of disapproval. “There’s not anybody here, we’re sitting in the back. This is perfect!”

Before I could object, Sirius crashed his lips into mine. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. I’d caused him to suffer—or at least act like he was suffering—for a few hours and I suppose I owed this to him. I wouldn’t be missing out on the movie much. It was like I was experiencing what they were doing, but they weren’t in an empty cinema, it was a bit more romantic on their end. However, I didn’t mind much.

Our kiss deepened as his tongue brushed over my bottom lip before it entered my mouth, exploring every corner. His hand lightly cupped my cheek.

I felt Sirius’s fingertips lightly brush over the slightly thin material of my trousers that separated the pads of his fingers from my inner thigh. In a swift manoeuvre, his fingertips slid under the waistband of my trousers and pulled them down, then danced along my skin, igniting sparks as they made their way to my heat. His middle finger slipped past the side of my panties and made firm circles over my clit.

I’d quickly decided not to make this about me. I’d wanted to show Sirius just how much I appreciated him being there, even if I’d practically forced him to.

I palmed his hardening member through his pants and dropped to my knees in front of him. As soon as I unbuttoned and unzipped his skin-tight black jeans, pulling his boxers down slightly, his erection sprung upright, slapping against his stomach. I bit my lip and looked up at him through my lashes lustfully. He shut his eyes, bracing himself for the warmth of my mouth wrapped around him.

I let the tip of my tongue flick over his slit, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum.

“Fuck, don’t tease,” he groaned, loud enough for only me to hear over the booming cinema surround sound. The flat of my tongue glided over his head as I took the shaft into my hand and began stroking, feeling the veins on his thickness. With each bob of my head, I allowed him to venture deeper and deeper into my throat, hollowing my cheeks until I felt the need to gag. His fingers became entangled in my hair, but he let me go at my own pace. I altered my speed and pressure often which made it difficult for him to stifle his moans.

His hand gripped my hair tightly and he threw his head back onto the head rest, his mouth hanging open. I could taste the familiar flavor of his cum spread across my tongue and slide down my throat.

I stood up from the floor and lifted the armrest on Sirius’s left, allowing us more room. I straddled his lap backwards, his chest pressing against my back. The only thing separating us was the thin lace material of my panties. His right hand travelled up my torso, grazing my rib cage and kneading my breast gently. His left hand snaked around my thigh and pulled my panties to the side. He traced shapes roughly around my centre as I let my head fall back to rest on his shoulder.

He nipped at the sweet spot on my neck and I let out a light moan. As good as his fingers felt against me, I need more. I lifted myself up a bit and reached between us to position his hard cock at my entrance. Slowly lowering all the way back down, I gave myself time to adjust to his large size as he filled me to the brim. He continued massaging my throbbing nerves and I rested my hand over his, getting him to apply more pressure. Arching my back against his chest, I could already feel myself tightening around him and he felt it too. I could feel every muscle throughout his body contract. Every time I had sex with Sirius, it always felt like the first time.

Slightly angling myself to find my g-spot, I let out a muffled whimper and shut my eyes tight when I felt his head brush my

G-spot . I slowly began going up and down on his throbbing dick, grinding against him every time my ass met his crotch. With every motion, I felt my knees weaken a little more each time.

Sirius’s breath became harsh and uneven on my neck and I could tell that he couldn’t hold it much longer. Every individual muscle in my lower body starting in my toes began to tighten in a wave, one after another. The pleasure crept up into the pit of my stomach and I reached my high, becoming a shaking mess in Sirius’s lap. His warm load coated my walls and his fingers dug into my thighs, leaving light scratches.

Once I recovered from my orgasm, I noticed the credits of the film beginning to roll and the lights were returning to their original brightness. I collapsed back into my seat and Sirius struggled to reposition himself back into his jeans. I laughed at the sight of him.

“What?” he questioned continuing to fumble with his jeans.

“Maybe if your pants weren’t so tight Mr Black, you wouldn’t be having such a tough time right now,” I mocked him.

“Whatever, I just hope I don’t have as tough of time trying to get them off when we get home,” he grinned, “you did say afterwards, didn’t you?”

[beigehearts]

All right it is time- drabbles about the yandere adult trio and how they kidnap you

I reblogged something about this- yandere content is not really reader friendly- it is fun to read for some people but for some people it is triggering- please don’t read if it’s not suited for you: each part will have it’s own word count This is a fem!reader- if you would like me to write a different one please let me know

CW: kidnap, alcohol consumption, drugs, physical abuse, needles, language

Hisoka 1,172 words

It’s a quiet night in your small town. Here, everyone knows everyone and there are no such things as secrets. There’s the lightest of drizzles on this cloudy, chilly night. The bar is almost barren except for you and a group of your friends. Even the bar tenders are your friends. Everyone is emptying glasses and telling lame funny stories that you’ve all heard before but still enjoy listening to.

Your body is warm, alcohol running through your veins. You shrug off your jacket, and place it on the coat rack at the entrance. Before you can even turn around someone latches onto your arm. A smile greets your face when you see your friend holding your arm.

“Come on y/n! Danny and Vanessa are making jello shots!” Danny and Vanesa are the bar tenders, they brought jello packets with them knowing it would just be this group of friends here tonight. Your friend clinging to you, Ashley, drags you back to the bar as if you had been protesting, which you definitely were not. The jello shots are poorly made and are more like water with jello packet flakes in it. Though none of you seem to care, taste is not the goal here.

It’s a long night, the clock strikes 1:30 am and Vanessa waves her arm in the air, “Alright kiddos, it’s time to close shop. Get out of here- be safe!” 

All of your friends call out and thank her, and everyone puts on their coat and does as Vanessa says. The slight breeze and cold droplets sends a shiver down your spine and you hold your coat closer to you. You can barely make out the moon through the clouds, but your attention is taken by a large breeze and your friend yelps out. 

“Let’s go! I’m cold! Who’s house?” Ashley asks. Usually all of you sleepover at each other’s houses after a night of drinking, the group collectively decides on going to the closest person’s home. Tido groans when hearing this, knowing that it’ll be his house.

The group all huddles and scampers towards his house, trying to conserve warmth. A blast of hot air hits you when you step inside, and everyone sighs with relief at the warmth. 

Tido turns towards everyone and points at you all, “It’s bed time dumbasses. No more drinking, I’m tired. If a single one of you wakes me up there will be hell to pay.”

You chuckle and nod, “Just go to bed Tido, we’ll be quiet.” Tido trusts you the most out of the group so he doesn’t protest, he sends you a spiteful look and stomps away to his room. He can be such a handful. Though you managed to get your friends to quiet down and speak quietly before they passed out. 

The house is quiet. The only sounds are the quiet snores and shuffling of your friends. You’ve been laying at the couch staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours. Eventually you get up and go to the kitchen. When with your friends you find it hard to sleep, some motherly instinct coming over you and making you alert. 

You know where Tido keeps his stash, you’re the only one of your friends who knows where it is. He told you where it is for nights like these. You open the cabinet, and grab a sugar jar from the back of it. When you open it the smell assaults your senses, you grab the ziploc bag and put the jar back. Once you’re sitting outside on his back porch, you roll it nice and neatly, and you can’t help but smile at your handy work. 

It hits your drunk body quite quickly, and you move to the rocking chair and cover up with a blanket. You turn your head when you hear the back door open, and see Tido’s head pop outside. “I thought I smelled something.” He says and closes the door behind him. There’s a swing on the porch and he plops down on it, and the beckons for the joint. You hand it over and he takes a deep inhale, holding it for a while before exhaling. 

He pats the seat next to him and you sit next to him, pulling your knees up into your chest. 

The next hour or so is spent philosophizing and staring out into the woods of his backyard. Your head feels like a fishbowl, the fish being your brain. Eventually it goes quiet. Tido throws his arms back, wrapping one around your shoulders. 

“Y/n.” He points into the forest, “I can’t look at those trees anymore, they’re just staring back at me.” He huffs and looks at you, his eyes finding your lips and slowly moving up to your eyes. “I’m going to bed. You should do the same.” 

You nod and he stands up, “Just remember to lock the door before you go to sleep.” He adds. He seems somewhat awkward standing there and you can’t help but laugh, his usual confident personality façade always disappears when he’s around you. 

A cough escapes his throat and he mumbles, “Goodnight y/n, go to bed soon okay?” He leans down and presses his lips against yours. You hum and return it, these small nights you spend with him always end like this. You’re just waiting for him to actually take you out somewhere else than his back porch. 

He shuffles inside and you watch until the door closes. You aren’t quite sure about your feelings for Tido, but it’s not too concerning at the moment. You enjoy your time with him, and enjoy your kisses, that’s enough for you. 

Maybe you should go home... You can always fall asleep in your own bed. Yeah that sounds good. Usually Tido walks you home at this time of the night but he’s already gone to bed and you don’t want to disturb his beauty sleep. Even though he probably wouldn’t mind much. 

You grab all of your things and put on your coat and shoes, you take one last glance at your friends and smile. They would understand, you’ve done this before. 

It’s only colder, the breeze only blowing harder. When you check your phone it’s 4:17 am. Good thing you don’t have work or classes tomorrow. There’s no way you’ll be able to wake up until 2 pm. Even though it’s cold and breezy, it’s a nice walk, you walk into the town and look around at the shops. You’ve passed them millions of times but they always look different when you’re high. Though you’re not that high anymore. The only light illuminating the streets are the street lamps, well the ones that actually still work. You don’t bother avoiding the puddles, stepping in them and your feet become wet. It’s no longer raining but you can still smell it in the air. 

The town is always so nice when it’s quiet, it’s so serene and surreal. Your steps come to slow halt when you see someone standing on the sidewalk a few yards ahead of you. You can’t make out their face, but they’re tall, really tall. You squint and try to see if it’s someone you know. After all, everyone knows each other here. Is that... Tasha? No, Jordan? Your guessing is cut short when he begins walking towards you. 

Soon enough you come face to face, you tilt your head up and can barely make out his features in this light. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” Your voice echoes around the street. 

He’s chuckling, and it turns into a full out maniacal laugh. Once he gathers himself he wipes a tear from his eye. “Didn’t anyone teach you not to talk to strangers?” His hand lays heavily on your shoulder, “It’s not safe to be intoxicated in public you know.” He brings his head towards your neck, pressing his nose against your bare skin, “It seems my pet has been smoking too.” 

You push him away with all your strength, your slow head still processing what’s happening. He frowns and you have no time to react when a hand wraps around your neck, and pushes you against the brick wall of the store. You groan, your head pounding now and when you try to gasp in air you can’t the wind has been knocked out of you. 

His lips meet your ear and you can’t fight back, as you’re still fighting for air. “You’ve been playing around with other boys. Are you trying to make me jealous?” He breathes in you scent, and a hand grabs your hip. Finally you manage to breathe in some air but by the time you’re ready to fight back he tightens his grip on your throat, making it hard to breathe again. “Don’t you think it’s mean to mess with a man’s emotions?” 

Gasps, that’s all you can manage, you’re gasping but can’t catch your breath. Your vision begins going black, becoming fuzzy and blurry. Your eyes start to roll back in your head, but right before you lose consciousness, you fall to the ground. 

“Oh pet, what ever am I going to do with you?” 

Your throat aches and your lungs burn, you’re left on the ground in fetal position, sucking in as much air as possible. But you don’t get a break, your hand that lays against the concrete of the sidewalk take away all the pain of your lungs. His shoe digs into your hand, and he moves his foot side to side, rubbing your hand against the ground, until you see tracks of blood following your hand. You scream out but it only gets worse. He lifts his foot and before you can retract your hand, stomps on your fingers. Your screeches can be heard by no one but this man and to him they mean nothing. 

You bring your hand to your chest and cradle it, 3 of 4 fingers are broken, and most of the skin has been rubbed raw, and blood makes it hard to see your wounds. 

“See what happens when you’re not a good girl?” You don’t answer, more focused on your hand. The pain is so intense, it burns it stings it aches it’s so painful. 

A hand grabs your hair, and you yelp when he holds you up by it. His face gets close to yours and he whispers, “But it’s okay, I’ll help you.” He lets go of your hair and your head falls, slamming against the concrete. Your vision goes dark and the last thing your hear is, 

“Oh you’re so pitiful y/n.” 

Illumi 1,133 words

You’re lucky to be surrounded by friends who give you hours and hours of laughter every day. Each day with your friends is a blessing, and each moment is a miracle. Life is good, you go to work everyday, working at a local daycare in the busiest part of town. The children all love you, and some even cry when they have to leave. You spend your days reading books to kids, and giving bottles to babies. Though the diaper part of the job isn’t the best. 

It’s 6 pm, and the last girl to be picked up is sitting on your lap as you have an insightful conversation. 

“So that’s how I know,” She throws her arms into the air and giggles, “that zebras are white and black!”

Her logic may be flawed but she makes a good point, “I had no idea!” You exclaim. 

The familiar ring of the door opening sounds out and the little girl jumps from your lap and to the gate separating the children from the front desk area. She shakes the gate and yells, “Mommy!” 

A tired looking woman who you see every day gives you a weak smile and picks up her daughter from the other side of the gate. “I’ll see you tomorrow y/n.” You wave at the little girl who waves back as her mother carries her out of the building.

As much as you enjoy your job, it gets really tiring. You let out a sigh and stand up, all that’s left is to clean up and lock up. Your co worker who was spending her time cleaning a mess in the bathroom looks more than disgusted when she comes out with gloves on and a bucket. 

“Did you even know that kids can produce that much?!” You laugh at her comment and she shoots you an evil look. 

The toys are put back into bins and the plastic chairs are tucked back into the plastic table of the kid’s room. You put away bottles and lost binkys from the baby room, and lock up all the first aid stuff in a cabinet. Looks like that’s the day. Your co worker already left, you thought you might as well give her a break since she did have to clean the bathroom. 

It’s 8 pm by the time you’re turning off the lights and locking the front doors. The last mother actually picked up her daughter much earlier than usual, the town is still bustling. Why not do a little window shopping? 

You walk around the streets, looking at clothing and other things, occasionally going in and touching things. Now that you think about it though, you have been wanting to get a dress. Your birthday is coming up and your friends are taking you somewhere nice, they won’t tell you where.

There’s a nice shop only a block away that has really cute dresses that aren’t too expensive. You step inside and look around. They have summer dresses, daily dresses, prom dresses, and formal dresses. If you had to guess, getting a formal but cute dress is probably what your friends expect. Eventually you find the dress you want, a black open back dress that hangs loosely at your waist and stops a little above your knees. You pay for the dress, owing a grand total of $68, cheap for a dress in this town. 

Eventually you make your way home, you kick off your shoes and hang up your jacket. You’re exhausted but you really should eat something before you go to bed. You grab a hot pocket, not really feeling like making a home cooked meal. Before you put it in the microwave, you turn on the tv and put on a show you’ve been watching. 

Once the hot pocket is in the microwave, you press a few buttons and listen to its mechanical whir. What a day, you lean against your fridge and close your eyes, you could fall asleep right here quite honestly. You peel your eyes open when you hear your tv turn off. 

Huh? You look around your unlit apartment and don’t see anything, maybe it just glitched out. You couldn’t really care less at the mom-

Something whizzes past your face, and strikes your microwave. The microwave turns off and quickly you jump up from your leaning position and look at it. There’s a needle lodged in the door of the microwave. You turn around and go wide eyed when you see someone standing in your living room. 

“Ah, I missed.” He says in a nonchalant tone. You look around for a weapon, going to reach for a knife but stop when a hand grabs your wrist. “Don’t bother y/n. It’s futile.” How did he move so quickly, how did he get around the counter so quickly?!

“What do you want? You can take my wallet, take what you want.” You try to keep a cool tone but your voice still shakes and cracks. 

His grip tightens on your wrist and you wince. “You can make this easier for yourself and just give up.” 

You shake your head and try to kick him, but he grabs your knee and pushes you against the counter. He’s holding one of your legs to your chest and using the other to hold your wrist. “Will you go willingly or not?” 

You struggle against his grip and with your free hand try to look around to grab something on the counter behind you. “What do you want?!” You yell out. 

You find a glass and swing your arm to break it against his head but he drops your knee and grabs your forearm so tightly that you screech and drop the glass, it shattering on the floor.

“If I tell you will you calm down?” He presses his body against yours, holding both of your wrists so you can’t attack him. “You are the perfect subject to be my wife and future mother of my kids.” 

Tears stream down your face and you shake your head violently, “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m not going to be your wife!” 

He sighs and tilts his head backwards some. You notice just how long his hair is when he does so. 

“I tried to make this easier for you y/n.” He moves both of your wrists to one hand and uses his other hand to grab something from his jacket. He pulls a needle out of his shoulder and sobs begin to rack your body. Who is he? Why is he doing this? What the hell is going on? 

He puts the point of the needle against your forehead and you begin to feel woozy, “You’ll learn in time.” Are the last words you hear before everything goes black.

Chrollo 945 words

After your upsetting break up with your ex a few months ago, your friends decided they had enough of your complaining and signed you up for online dating. You’ve talked to so many people on these apps and yet all of them just don’t do it for you. 

But you began talking to one man and it just clicked. He was so kind and respectful and knew when to say what. The both of you had many text conversations, and he finally asked you out on a date. You are going to meet at a very nice restaurant on the outskirts of town. All of your friends were ecstatic to hear that you would finally go on another date.

They really don’t want you to fuck it up, so a few of your friends came over to help you get ready. It was like clockwork, the put you in one outfit and then rip it off to put on another one. The process is more exhausting than the date will be. Eventually the three of you decide on an outfit. Skin tight pleather pants and a frilly blouse that looks Victorian almost, and some nice short boots with a big heel. After the hour of finding the right outfit, they sit you down on your bed and do your makeup. Quite honestly they did a good job- but you wouldn’t admit it to their egotistical asses. 

“You’re gorgeous!” Rose says. You roll your eyes and give yourself one last look in the mirror, admiring yourself for a moment. Shannon hugs you from behind and giggles, “Our girl is finally dating again!” You have to pry her off of you just so you can get out of your room, knowing you’ll be late if you stick around with these two. 

As you get in the car Shannon and Rose wave at you from the front door and Rose yells, “Our girl is growing up!” Shannon follows up with, “Don’t fuck it up y/n!” How very helpful

The taxi driver confirms your destination and then you’re off. You look through your most recent texts one more time, just because.

Him 9 PM at the Cavern on the south side of town

Me Alright! See you soon 

Him I can’t wait

After the twenty minute drive, you step out of the taxi and stretch your arms in the air. You look down at your phone and see that you’re two minutes late. Oh no, late on your first date? That definitely doesn’t give off a good impression. You rush inside and give the name of your date to the woman at the front and she leads you to a table in the back. 

He stands up from his seat, and he’s much more handsome than you were expecting. His black hair is slicked back and he’s wearing a suit and tie. There’s a cloth wrapped around his forehead but you aren’t given much time to think about it when he approaches you. He kisses your cheek and then pulls out your chair. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late, I feel so bad. Did you wait long?” You voice and he shakes his head.

“Don’t be, I didn’t wait long.” You let out a small sigh at his words and sit down, thanking him. He pushes in your chair and returns to his own.

You smile as he pours you a glass of wine, “It’s so nice to finally meet you Chrollo.” 

“Same here. I was worried I might be catfished.” He chuckles and his eyes meet yours as he hands you a glass. He’s just so captivating, you can’t take your eyes off of him. You’re left gazing at his face when he clears his throat, “So tell me, how did you get here?”

You snap out of it and shake your head a little, “Oh, I took a taxi. I wasn’t sure if we would be drinking or not.” 

He sips his wine and you copy his action. His smile is just absolutely captivating. “I’d be lying if I said I weren’t a little anxious about tonight.”

“Oh why?” You ask. 

“You just seemed so wonderful on text that you seemed too good to be true.” He looks down at his wine, “But I guess it is true.”

Dinner is quite nice, you’re just so relaxed with him and he is fascinating. He knows so much and he could talk for hours and you would listen without saying anything. 

After the both of you finish the bottle of wine, you decide it’s time to go home. You wrap your arm around his and the both of you walk outside, and the alcohol seems to be catching up with you. Though you really didn’t drink much. 

The both of you walk to his car and talk there for a while. 

“I’m gonna call a cab. Do you mind waiting with me?” You ask him. 

He smiles sweetly, “Of course not.” You call for a cab and they tell you that they will be there in five minutes. 

The alcohol is really catching up to you. He asks you if you’re okay but your lips feel numb and you can only mutter what resembles words. Your knees start to feel weak until the buckle underneath you, and he catches you. You try to say something, move, anything, but your head is swimming and you can’t form any words. 

He shushes you, and pets your hair while holding you up. “You’re alright.” He kisses your forehead and opens up his back door, laying you gently on the seat. Before he closes the door he says,

“Come on honey, let’s go home.”

[mrsbrekkers]

Hi! I read your Jesper fic and it’s like my favorite that I’ve ever read honestly it was amazing! I was wondering if I could request a Jesper x reader where the reader is small and really sweet and he has a crush on her? And she like steals his clothes and he just gets rlly soft? Once again I love your writing have a great day/night and no rush!

hi there! we’ve talked over pm, but thank you again, those kind words mean the WORLD to me! i haven’t put my writing out there in a while, so this means a lot, thank you again :)

so i had a weird idea when i saw this when i woke up this morning. mind you, it’s been sitting in my requests for a few days, but i saw it and didn’t have a lot of ideas, but then inspiration struck me and brb i gotta cry over this. AHHHHHH

pairings! jesper x reader / kaz x inej ( being soulmates ) + nina x matthias ( also being soulmates ) + wylan van eck enjoying his pie

reader is again, gender neutral, but leans more female presented, BUT the pronouns they/their are used throughout

warnings! jesper and reader being the fluffest couple to walk the grishaverse, kaz endlessly shipping, kaz also pinning for inej, nina + kaz shipping reader and jesper, the crows in general shipping reader x jesper

word count; 3036 words

one-shot under cut!

this mood board was made by a friend and UGH IT TAKES IN THE FIC S O WELL!!! @r3tr0sp3ct !! thank you so much, SHFJD

5 WAYS TO TELL YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER YOU LOVE THEM

Courtesy Of Jesper Fahey, to my Dearest Y/N

5: Tease Them About How Short They Are

It was no secret that Y/N was the shortest of the crows. A mere five foot three, compared to the other Crows? They were short. Shorter than Inej by an inch or two, and by a foot compared to Matthias. Yet, it made them dangerous: able to move from place to place almost as swiftly as Inej. They were able to look unintimidating, when in reality, they could kill you, your family, and your relatives. They were able to lie their way through almost anything: another factor of people underestimating them. They were dangerous, which is why they were a part of the Crows after all. An asset, a leader even. Kaz saw them as valuable.

That didn’t stop the endless amount of teasing from the Crows though. And who had started it? Jesper Fahey.

First joining the Crows had been an impulsive decision, but one that Y/N didn’t regret. A family came with joining, and they’d lost theirs a pretty good time ago. What also came with joining was the teasing. Another day at the Crow Club, and Y/N, still relatively new to the Barrel life, was watching as Jesper gambled. They’d never understand the payoff of such quizzical acts of dumbness, but they stood there behind Jesper, confused.

Finishing the hand, Jesper glanced back at Y/N, chuckling slightly. Y/N’s eyes shifted, their glare at Jesper meeting him right in the eyes. It almost caused him to back down from what he was about to say, but he simply smirked the usual Jesper smirk. Flirtatious and bubbly. His hand swiftly moved, pulling Y/N to stand directly in front of him, the hand on their waist causing them to become flustered.

“You’re shorter than Inej,” Jesper inquired.

“I am not-” but Y/N didn’t finish their sentence. They’d already known such, but now Jesper was pointing it out. “So what?”

“It means I get to deem a new nickname for you! Inej would never let me call her anything related to her height, she threatened me with her knives. Or Kaz would glare at me, which scares me to say the least,” Jesper smiled now. He was going to have to find his way into Y/N’s good graces to fully engage in said nickname. They seemed conflicted for a moment, a pout making its way to their face.

“Does that mean I get to deem a nickname for you based on how tall you are?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow. They already had one in mind, considering Jesper was only a mere inch shorter than Matthias, the nickname still fit him.

“Well, that depends, Shortcake, what is your nickname for me?”

“Big Bear,” Y/N responded, smiling.

“Hmm, I like it. Shortcake and Big Bear. A powerful duo,” Jesper said, chuckling.

And thus, the teasing of how short Y/N was began.

4; Tell Them How Sweet They Are

The teasing didn’t stop there. Of course it didn’t. Because while the nickname ‘Shortcake’ was coined by Jesper, everyone had chosen new nicknames for how short Y/N was. Matthias called them Bubbles. Nina called them Babycakes. Wylan called them Munchkin. Inej called them Mini-me. And even Kaz had found a nickname for them; Firecracker.

But for Jesper, he wanted to find other ways to tease, or to tell Y/N what they meant to him, and low and behold, chance struck him. Eating with the Crows at one of the bakeries in Ketterdam, Y/N sitting next to Nina, with Jesper on their other side. Matthias sat next to Nina, squished between her and Inej. Wylan sat on the edge of the booth, opposite of Jesper, with Kaz sitting in a chair at the head of the booth.

Jesper glanced over at Y/N every once in a while, who was enjoying their creampuffs, he watched a bit of the filling be left on their lips. letting out a small chuckle, he watched Y/N turn toward him. “Hm?” They murmured, tilting their head. Sometimes Jesper wondered what someone like Y/N was doing in the Barrel. How Kaz had even found someone so sweet and kind roaming the streets.

“You got something a little-” Jesper raised his hand, his thumb brushing the pastry filling from Y/N’s lips. “There,” and with that, he chuckled before eating the filling. Y/N’s eyes had followed his hand the entire way, becoming flustered just as they had in the Crow Club just a few nights ago.

“That was my leftovers for later, Big Bear,” Y/N glared, their tone though was playful. The entire table now stared at them. Nina had a knowing look on their face, Matthias just seemed confused. Inej had let out a small laugh, Kaz’s eyes shifting to Inej upon hearing the sound. And Wylan? He just took another bite of his pie, his attention unwavered.

“Shortcake, you’re really telling me you would’ve saved any amount of those creampuffs as leftovers? I doubt it, they’re your favorite,” Jesper observed, making Y/N huff and taking another bite of a creampuff.

“They’re sweet and warm, of course I wouldn’t leave a single one for leftovers,” Y/N deemed, crossing their arms as they went to grab their last creampuff, but Jesper beat them to it, biting into it.

“Hmm, they’re not as sweet as you,” Jesper said, kissing Y/N’s nose, making them go cross-eyed with a smile.

“Hey! That was MY last creampuff!” Y/N said, coming to their senses after they realized Jesper had taken their last one. Before they could go to grab it though, Jesper raised it above his head. Oh, it was on. Before too long, Y/N was chasing Jesper out of the bakery, leaving the other Crows a laughing mess as they watched Jesper run, yelling for Y/N to catch him.

“Those two are soulmates,” Nina said, a wide smile on her lips as she watched Y/N practically topple Jesper onto the concrete, grabbing what was left of their creampuff and biting into it. Her eyes then shifted to Matthias.

“Soulmates.” Matthias agreed, smiling.

3; Save Them From The Bad Guy

Y/N was smart, Jesper knew that. They could probably give Jesper and Kaz a run for their money if they would like to. They were small, agile, talented. They were everything in Jesper’s eyes and more. But that didn’t make them any less susceptible to being overwhelmed during a job. They weren’t Nina Zenik. They weren’t Grisha, meaning if the right spots were hit they could indeed be overtaken.

But with Jesper by their side, that potential went down exponentially. Because whether Y/N believed it or not, and they did, Jesper would protect them with his life. They would do so for one another without hesitation. Which as Kaz put it: ‘is a dangerous prospect.’ The two didn’t care though. Well, in certain ways they did, but where was the fun in giving Kaz the satisfaction of thinking he was somewhat right? Answer: There was none.

Having just grabbed the package they needed during the job, Y/N and Jesper were about to be home free when they were spotted by the cashier, who undoubtedly worked for Pekka Rollins. Going eye wide, the two stared at the cashier for some time, and before they could come up with a Kaz level idea, the two bolted from the shop, Y/N’s hand in Jesper’s.

“We’re not dying today, Shortcake!” Jesper laughed over the commotion, the adrenaline of the job running through him as they ran.

“Hopefully not, Big Bear!” Y/N yelled, letting go of Jesper’s hand and breaking off from him. They were bigger targets together. Slipping through the crowds, Y/N ran as quickly as their legs could carry them. But speed could only make up so much when men who seemed twice your size were chasing after you.

Y/N knew Ketterdam well, but not Inej well. Not Kaz well. So when they came face to face with a wall that was too big for them to climb before the men managed to catch up, they scowled. Where the hell is Inej when you need her?

Turning to face the men who showed up, Y/N showed their hands. “Went after the wrong one,” They remarked, smirking. The men didn’t seem to be having it though, and as they stalked towards Y/N, a voice was heard behind them.

“And to think you’re usually the one saving my ass!” And then the three men fell, one bullet lodged in each of the men’s heads. Y/N looked up, smiling as they saw Jesper.

“Got the package?” Y/N asked, Jesper showcasing the bag of whatever it was Kaz had deemed they needed.

“I do, but I also have the most important package.” Jesper stepped over the bodies and took Y/N’s hand again, a wide smile on his lips.

“And what package would that be?” Y/N knew what he was going to say, but they wanted to hear it outloud

“Why you, of course!” Jesper winked, kissing Y/N’s forehead before they were off to bring the package to Kaz.

2; Let Them Borrow Your Clothes

Another night at the Crow Club, but something was unusual. Jesper was used to having a stalking Y/N behind him wondering how poker worked. This time though, they didn’t seem to be found anywhere in the Crow Club. It almost made Jesper not want to play. What was the point of playing if you didn’t have your lucky charm? There was no reason in his mind, especially as he began to have a bad streak of luck. So, standing from the table, he went to the booth Inej sat at, Kaz across from her.

“Have you guys seen Y/N?” Jesper asked, earning him a small smirk from Kaz, who simply glanced at Inej. He’d seen the newest Crow go to Jesper’s room while he’d gone down the steps. Kaz had been tempted to ask what they were doing, but he already had a feeling about what they were doing.

“They’re at the Slat,” Kaz said, deciding to rat out Y/N.

Jesper raised a brow. Weird. “Have fun you two! Inej, make sure he doesn’t come up with some more heist plans while I’m gone,” he joked, earning an eye roll from Inej. Turning from the table, he made his way out of the Crow Club, walking to the Slat and up to Y/N’s room, which was right next to his. Granted, they were really just tiny spaces meant to serve for the necessities. So, when Jesper arrived at their floor, he stopped in his tracks.

“Shortcake?”

Y/N turned, cursing as they realized they’d been caught. Instead of being adorned in their usual black attire, Y/N wore one of Jesper’s jackets.

“Listen, it was right there, it looked warm, I just really really . . . why are you walking towards me like that?” Y/N asked, watching as Jesper stepped towards them. If only they could see into Jesper’s mind, but the look in his eyes said it all. He was completely, utterly in love with the person before him. Letting out a gentle laugh, he kissed the corner of Y/N’s lips, earning him wide eyes.

“It looks better on you, although a little big, it’s perfect, Shortcake” Jesper said, in turn, he received a giddy laugh.

“Why thank you Big Bear. It is really warm, I may have to steal it,” Y/N remarked, crossing their arms and posing in the jacket for Jesper.

“You can’t steal it if I give it to you.”

“Hey! No fair. We’re criminals. I shall steal Jesper Fahey’s coat!”

“Mhm, now come on. I think you should show off your new attire at the Crow Club,” Jesper said, taking Y/N’s hand, but instead, they moved to stand beside Jesper, moving his arm so it wrapped around their waist.

When they arrived at the Crow Club once more, Inej glanced at Kaz, who now looked over his plans he’d been drawing out, his eyes on Y/N and Jesper.

“You’re so in on them being soulmates aren’t you?” Inej asked.

“Hmm, I don’t know what you’re talking about, my dearest Inej,” Kaz spoke quietly, making sure only she could hear.

1; Telling Them You Love Them

Whatever Jesper was planning, Y/N had a feeling it involved something big. They’d never seen him as frantic as he currently was. Then again, Jesper was a pretty frantic person at times, but still this probably took the cake for the most frantic. He had flowers, candies, creampuffs, not that Y/N knew all of that.

He was receiving different ways to tell people that you love them, and now he had no idea which one to go with. Nina told him pastries. Inej told him to simply be outright with it. Matthias told him some weird Fjerdan way they would do it. Wylan had shrugged, he’d never really been in love before. He hadn’t even DARED to ask Kaz for obvious reasons.

That left him with his own way of doing it. He wasn’t sure if Y/N would like it. He knew she’d like the cream puffs. But the candies? The flowers? Were they that kind of romantic?

It also didn’t help that when he’d asked everyone, he’d at first told them that he had feelings for Y/N, and they’d all replied that they knew. That didn’t help his nerves, because did that mean Y/N knew? Or were they just as oblivious as he was?

The night seemed simple enough - until it wasn’t.

The flowers didn’t smell right to Jesper, so he threw them out. The candies, as Nina revealed, were Y/N’s least favorite. The only thing he still had by the beginning of the night were the creampuffs. But he wanted to do this right. He had to do this right.

Entering the bakery, Jesper spotted Y/N at one of the booths, eating creampuffs. Well, there goes the last thing he had to give them. Making his way to the table, Jesper watched as Y/N raised their head to look at him.

“Don’t tell me Kaz sent you to come and ruin my night with some heist plans, Big Bear,” Y/N said, biting into their cream puff, humming in delight.

“Nope, just me. . . . just me,” Jesper murmured the last bit.

“Just you huh?” Y/N asked, finishing their plate and throwing it out. They stood, thanking the baker before leaving the bakery. Jesper followed behind. His mind raced with ideas on how to do this right. Maybe this was the right way? Stopping in one of the alleys, Jesper sucked in a deep breath.

“I love you!” He called to Y/N, who stalled for a moment, eyes going wide just as they did when Jesper had kissed the corner of their mouth.

“You make me rethink everything I know. You waltzed into the Crows lives, but most importantly, you waltzed into mine. I love you,” Jesper watched Y/N, seeing them laugh a bit.

“Go on, Big Bear,” Y/N spoke, walking slowly towards the gushing Jesper.

“I love the way you let me joke about your height. I love the way you get creampuff filling all over your face, you actually still have some on your lips. I love the way you joke with me during jobs, even when they go terribly wrong,” Jesper chuckled now, his smile wide.

“I love when you wear my clothes. They’re big on you. My jackets almost reach the floor. My sweaters reach your thighs. I love when you stand behind me while I’m playing cards, wondering how the game works. Or why it’s helpful. I love when you sneak into my bed late at night and lie across from me even with the small space we have, acting as if I don’t know you’re there. I love the way you chase me for your last cream puff and tackle me into the ground. But most of all, I love you . . . you, gosh do i love you,” Jesper felt out of breath. He wanted to yell from the top of rooftops that he loved Y/N. The things he’d do for them were endless.

“You know what I love about you, Jesper Fahey?” Y/N asked, tilting their head as they stopped in front of the breathless boy.

“What?”

“Everything,” and then they were on their tippy toes, their lips barely meeting Jesper’s.

The taste of cream puff filling hit Jesper first, a familiarity he knew with Y/N. Home. His fingers delicately moved to hold the back of their neck, his eyes shutting as he fully leaned down to kiss them. The pounding in his chest could likely be heard throughout the entirety of Ketterdam. He could feel the concrete underneath him, and it felt like the only stabilizer he had to keep him grounded. For if not for the concrete beneath him, he would’ve thought he was dreaming. Floating, even. But the feeling of their skin under his fingers, their lips. Everything invaded his senses and he didn’t want it to stop. He didn’t want them to stop.

Y/N had dreamed of this moment. The way Jesper’s slightly chapped lips would feel against their own, how soft his skin would feel, how his hair would feel. How he’d feel. Time felt lost, the world around them dimming as they let themself be consumed by this feeling. Nothing had felt so right. No one else existed except them.

Becoming breathless, Jesper pulled from Y/N, his eyes fluttering open as he placed his forehead against theirs. Then he felt the soft feeling of rain beginning to fall. “Isn’t that cheesy,” he chuckled, making Y/N laugh and take his hand.

“Ready to run through the rain, Big Bear?” They whispered.

Jesper didn’t answer, and instead he turned, pulling Y/N with him towards the Slat, their laughs being heard for miles.

[calpalirwin]

Numbers

Summary: Sebastian doesn’t want to be another number to you, but little does he know he’s the only one.

A/N: Everyone say thank you to @jessalyn-jpeg​ for always being willing to cry over this man with me. 

Important distinction: Italics represent his thoughts, while bold italics represent hers

Word Count: 3.2k

And away, and away we go!

__

The sun was high and warm, and the sounds of wood cracking against leather grew louder as Y/N walked towards the baseball fields. “Yo, Number 1, lookin’ good!” she whistled, her fingers wrapping themselves in the chain link fence surrounding the field.

There was a loud laugh from the man playing shortstop, and he turned to either flip her off or stick out his tongue, but a baseball came flying in his direction, high and powerful. But not high enough. Almost lazily, Sebastian lifted his heels off the dirt, raising his left hand in the air, the ball coming to a stop in his glove.

“Right field, get ready!” Anthony, the pitcher shouted. “Stan’s lucky charm showed up!”

“I don’t need luck, Mackie,” Sebastian taunted, pulling at the sleeves of his jersey. “I’m Number 1 for a reason. Best shortstop in the state, right here, baby!”

“Mackie! Stan!” the coach barked in warning.

“Sorry!” both men laughed. And with his brief pause, Sebastian took off his hat, waving it at Y/N in greeting as she took a seat in the stands, before putting it back over his sweaty locks of brown hair.

As the practice continued, more girls made their way out to watch the team, and Y/N couldn’t blame them. Something about a guy’s ass in baseball pants, especially when that ass belonged to Sebastian Stan. And the college baseball team didn’t have any complaints about the attention they gathered, plays becoming more dramatic than they needed to be as a chance to show off, until the coaches finally called it quits.

“So,” Anthony asked Sebastian as they headed for the dugout. “Is today the day you ask out Y/N finally? Or should I try to shoot my shot? Like what's going on here, man? Cuz whatever it is between you, it’s gone on way too long, and I only got so much patience.”

Sebastian wasn’t sure how his face could grow warmer after being in the sun practicing for two hours, but it did. “I- We’re friends, ya know? And it’s not that I don’t wanna ask her out. It’s that I don’t know how. Or how she’ll react. It’s… a whole thing, ya get me?”

“Dude…” Anthony shook his head. “I say this because I care. But if you’re gonna make a move, make it fast. No one wants to be the one to cross you when we all know you got a thing for her. But if you’re not gonna shoot your shot…”

“Thanks…” Sebastian said, not sure if he appreciated the obvious advice or not. He knew he needed to ask Y/N sooner rather than later. But the idea that his teammates were lying in wait for him to either make a move, or step aside stirred up feelings of jealousy. But the only way of making sure they didn’t date her… He slung his bag over his shoulder, before squaring them and strutting out of the dugout, headed straight for Y/N. “Now or never, Stan,” he whispered to himself.

“Seb!” a girl called out and he turned to the sound, putting a smile on his face.

“Hey.” He offered a small wave, his eyes spotting Y/N, and kept walking, but then more girls were calling his name, batting their eyelashes, and touching his arm as they asked questions, and somehow Y/N got lost in the shuffle.

Y/N watched from her spot, the smile on her face dropping as she watched Sebastian get swarmed by girls who only wanted his attention so they could later brag to their friends that they’d gotten to talk to the star of the baseball team. And Sebastian wasn’t the type to be rude, even when he should.

Sighing, she shouldered her bag, heading down the bleachers, figuring she’d she go rescue him from his oh-so terrible prison of adoring girls.

“Hey, Y/N,” a shy voice called out as her feet hit concrete.

She lifted her gaze to find one of the newer players smiling at her. “Oh, hey, Tom,” she smiled back at him. “Good practice out there.”

“Heh, thanks,” he mumbled, his cleat digging into the ground. “So… you waiting for Seb?”

“I was yeah,” she admitted, looking over at Sebastian who was still under siege. And then a swell of anger bubbled inside her. If he couldn’t be bothered to pull himself away from them for her, then she didn’t have to wait for him. “But I’ll just catch him later. So, what’s up?”

Tom blinked in surprise. “Uh… I… Not much really. Was gonna head back to my dorm. Ya know, normal stuff I guess.”

“Well c’mon, I’m headed that way myself, I’ll walk with ya.”

Tom brightened as someone whistled from behind. “Damn! Kid’s got moves!” Anthony’s voice called out loudly. He jogged a few steps to join the couple, “Yo, Y/N, what about Seb?”

Y/N looked over her shoulder at Sebastian who still wasn’t even looking her way. “What about him?”

~~~

She mumbled airplane sounds under her breath, twisting her wrist to make the paper airplane fly around, before she really sent it flying across the living room. She watched as it glided through the air before nose-diving into the carpet as the front door opened.

“Apology food?” Sebastian asked with a hopeful smile, holding up a bag of takeout as he kicked the door shut.

“And what’s the apology for?” she asked, rising to her feet and crossing her arms.

“For being a dick after practice.”

“Chinese?”

“Your favorite,” he said, handing her the bag.

“Fine. Your transgressions against the crown are forgiven. This time.”

He tilted his head back as he laughed. “Thank you, your Highness. Although a little birdie told me that you ended up alright. Holland, huh?”

“Mackie is worse than girls with gossip, I swear…” Y/N said with an eye roll. “But yeah, Holland and I talked.”

“You know he’s a freshman, right?”

“Aw, is somebody jealous?” She flashed him a sardonic smile as they both plopped down on the couch and dug into the food.

Sebastian let out a scoff. “Me? Jealous of Holland? Pfft, yeah right.” Yes, insanely jealous, actually.

“Oh, so if I said he walked me all the way to the apartment, that wouldn’t make you mad?”

“You’re not my girlfriend, Y/N,” he said around a swallow of food. Despite how much I wish you were.  “If you wanna make baby Holland feel like a man for escorting you home, I really don’t give a shit. But you can do better than a freshman.” Like me.

Like you? “And you’d smell better with a shower,” was her retort as she knocked her shoulder into his.

“Mmm, you gonna join me?”

“Pfft! In your dreams, maybe.” And in mine.

Only in my dreams cuz once again, I fucked up.

~~~

Y/N figured one date would be enough to stir Sebastian into action. But one, the man had already made himself scarce by the time she left for her date. And two, the date sucked.

You’re not Sebastian was all she could think about throughout the dinner of cheesy one-liners, and bad jokes that bordered on offensive.

“So…” he asked suggestively as they walked out. “Wanna head back to my place?”

“No, I’m kinda tired,” she declined politely.

“Oh… well then I’ll call you sometime and we can do this again, maybe?”

“Yeah… no,” she said, shaking her head. “This was… nice. But no. You and I? Not gonna happen.”

“Right… I forgot you’re friends with Stan.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Oh, c’mon. Dude obviously likes you. And he’s not the one anyone wants to have on their bad side.”

“Then why did you ask me out? If all of you are so scared of Seb?”

“Cuz you’re hot, and I’m not on the baseball team,” he shrugged.

“Yeah… I’m gonna go home now. And you… ugh… yeah, no. Not gonna happen.”

~~~

Sebastian turned his head as the door opened. “Back before curfew, huh? Whatta gentleman.”

“Fuck you,” she told him with a roll of her eyes before stalking off towards her bedroom.

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” he said, bolting up off the couch. “C’mon, what happened?”

He wasn’t you. “He’s a pig. Said all the wrong things.”

“That sucks. But hey, can’t all be winners, right?”

“I guess… Although he did say one thing that was somewhat interesting.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Apparently you scare people off from asking me out.”

He snorted. “That’s fuckin’ stupid. Will I be pissed if some jackoff makes you feel like shit? Yeah, and I’ll probably say something. But shit… I’m not your boyfriend, or your dad, or some shit. Sounds like a lame cop-out because they just don’t wanna admit they’re pussies.”

And what’s your lame cop-out? “Ugh… I need a drink.”

“Grab me one, yeah?” he asked, sinking back down into the couch as she changed directions to head into the kitchen instead.

“So, how was your night?” she asked, grabbing two beers from the fridge.

“Uneventful,” he shrugged. “There was a girl I was hoping to go out with, but it didn’t work.”

“Aw damn. That sucks,” she said, as she joined him on the couch and handed him one of the beers. 

“Eh, it was my fault for not asking sooner,” he shrugged again, clinking his beer against hers. “To shitty nights.”

“Here, here,” Y/N cheered half-heartedly as they both took a long drink. “Fuck it. Paper airplane contest?”

He snorted into his beer. “We’re not seven anymore.”

“Aw, afraid you’ll lose?”

He sat up straighter. “Loser buys next case of beer?”

“You better get your wallet out, now.”

~~~

Sebastian knew he should have taken his chance after that first date gone bad. And Y/N knew she should have pushed him harder in her confrontation. But for whatever reason, the friends stayed at their stubborn stalemate.

Without Sebastian willing to make a move, Y/N began to wonder if maybe everyone had it all wrong. Maybe Sebastian was simply protective of her without having an ulterior motive behind it. So, she continued to go on dates with other guys on campus to ease the ache, until she couldn’t pretend they weren’t Sebastian anymore.

For his part, Sebastian not only took careful notes of the reasons Y/N gave for each of her short-lived romances, he also stupidly pointed her in the direction of new interests. And then he tried not to drown in his jealousy, before learning to grow doubtful of wanting a romantic relationship with her at all. Why would he want to sacrifice a lifelong friendship just to become another nameless guy she tossed to the side once she had her fun with him?

~~~

“Sebastian!” she gasped at him when he came home one night as she nursed away the end of yet another short-lived romance that wasn’t him.

“You’re drunk,” was the observation as he dropped his duffle bag to the floor.

“Ooooohhhh yeah,” she giggled at him with a wide grin, eyes hazy. “You gonna join me?”

“So we can both be sick? Yeah… Not a chance.”

“Boo…” she pouted. “You never wanna do anything with me.”

“One night. One night I don’t wanna drink with you, and that equates to me not wanting to do anything with you ever? Make it make sense, Y/N.”

“Well, you don’t wanna date me, that’s for sure,” was the drunk scoff.

He balked. “When did I ever say that?”

“Well it’s true, isn’t it? Everyone keeps saying that you like me, but you don’t do anything about it. Are they all lying? Or are you?”

He shook his head. “I’m not doing this. I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Why not?!”

“Because you’re drunk off your ass!”

“Just answer the question!”

“I don’t know!”

“What type of bullshit answer is that?! How do you not know if you wanna date someone?!”

“It’s the answer you give when you used to think you wanted to, but now you’re not sure anymore! Now… I gave you my answer. And I already told you once I’m not having this conversation. Not when you’re drunk. I’m going to bed. G’night Y/N.”

“COWARD!” she hurled the insult at his retreating back.

In his room, Sebastian didn’t sleep. He lay in bed watching his ceiling fan spin in slow hypnotic circles, cursing himself for letting it get this bad. If he had just asked her out after that one practice… If he could just rewind the clock…

In the living room, Y/N sobbed into her hands. The distractions never worked, even the promising ones. And Sebastian… If it turned out he didn’t want her…

Thoughts spiraled and time ticked by, Y/N growing more sober, and Sebastian more angry with himself.

“Seb?” she asked in a small whisper, knocking lightly on his door as she pushed it open, finding him still awake in bed, the little lamp on his nightstand illuminating the room.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he asked, more harshly than he meant to, as he pushed himself to sit up against his headboard.

“I- Nevermind… It’s stupid…”

“No, wait,” he called out to her as she turned to leave. “I didn’t mean it like that. I- What’s up? What did you wanna ask?”

She took a slow breath to steady herself as she turned back around to face him. “Do you like me? God, that sounds so juvenile…”

“Of course I like you, Y/N. You’re my best friend.”

“But you don’t like me enough to date me. Just enough to be protective about me dating anyone else.”

He sighed. Now, or never. “It’s not that I don’t wanna date you, Y/N. It’s that I’m scared to.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“To you, maybe. But to me, it’s perfectly valid.”

“How? How is that a valid reason? Sebastian Stan, scared of dating a girl? A girl who he’s known his whole life? Make it make sense.”

“You think I wanna be one of the guys you date? Maybe if you actually dated people, I wouldn’t have ever thought twice about dating you myself. But you don’t date, Y/N. You… God, I dunno what it is you do, but it’s not dating.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, feeling tears well up. “Fuck you! You don’t get to slut-shame me!”

“Slut-shame you?! How is it slut-shaming that I don’t wanna be another number to you?! That I don’t wanna be another source of entertainment for you until you get bored of me?!”

“Because you’re not a number, Sebastian!”

“Bullshit I’m not! You literally call me Number 1! You don’t love Y/N! You… you entertain yourself until someone better comes along!”

“That’s not true…” she whispered, heartbroken that he thought it was.

“It was for all the other guys! I don’t wanna be like them, Y/N! I don’t wanna be some random number to you! I wanna be the one! I don’t know how much clearer I can make that.”

“You know I only dated them to make you jealous, right?”

“Well congrats… you win. I’m insanely jealous of every guy that you parade through that goddamn door.” His mouth twisted and his vision started to swim.

“I didn’t wanna win, Seb. I wanted you.”

He hissed through his teeth. “Past tense… that, uh… Yeah, that hurts. Thanks for that… For this…” he twirled his finger about the room. “Awesome conversation. Glad we could have this talk.”

“You wanna know why it never worked with those guys?!” she yelled at him, her hands flying up in the air. “They weren’t you! God, I tried so hard to make it work with those guys! Any of them! But none of them made me feel the way you do. None of them get me the way you do. And… God! I wish they did! I wish at least one of them did, because then I could finally stop wasting my time on you when it’s obvious you don’t feel the same way about me!”

“I don’t feel the same?!” He grabbed a small notebook, hurling it at her. “If I never felt the same, explain that!” He pulled down the collar of his shirt, pointing at a small tattoo of a paper airplane on his chest “If I never felt the same, explain this!”

“Y-you got a tattoo? When?”

The sudden drop of her voice level took him a moment to realize what she’d asked. “When you started dating the guy with tattoos…” he told her.

“And this?” she asked, bending down to pick up the small notebook he’d thrown at her, thumbing through it. “Blue eyes, tattoos. Text back on time. Don’t say stupid shit,” she read aloud. “A-are these notes on how to date me?”

He shrugged. “I like to think they’re observations.”

“W-why would you need notes on how to date me?”

“To make sure you don’t get bored of me. To make sure you don’t forget me.”

“Seb-”

He shook his head fiercely, feeling his throat close up. “Don’t. Just don’t, okay? I know this is all my fault. I know if I had just stopped being a little bitch, and said something sooner like I wanted to, none of this would be happening right now. But I- Fuck… It’s always been me and you, and I dunno what I’d do if that stopped happening. You’re my best friend. And I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. And… I can’t risk losing you. I won’t lose you. Even if that means spending the rest of my life jealous of the guys you date.”

“And you never bothered to think that I had the same fears? That I’m just as in love with your stupid ass?”

“Why would you be? I’m just the idiot best friend.”

“Haven’t you been listening? I- God, did you really get a tattoo?” she asked. “What even is it?”

“It’s a paper airplane,” he mumbled, face turning red.

“Can I see it again?” she asked somewhat shyly.

He shrugged, taking off his shirt and tossing it to the side. “Happy now?”

“Oh, Seb,” she giggled, crossing the room to him. “You didn’t have to take your shirt off. You could have just tugged down your collar again.”

“Are you complaining?” he teased lightly, pulling her into his lap.

“God, no,” she said with another giggle. “Oh, Seb,” she sighed, her fingers tracing the ink on his skin. “God, we’re so fuckin’ stupid, aren’t we?”

“Oh, I’m definitely stupid,” he admitted. “Said and done so much stupid shit I shouldn’t have said or done.” His nose nudged against hers, his lips brushing against her cheek when he said, “God, I’m so sorry. I shoulda manned up sooner. And I shouldn’t have said those things about the guys you dated. I just- I fucked up. I let my insecurities get in the way, and I fucked up.”

“I fucked up too, Seb,” she whispered, carding her hands through his hair. “I was trying to fill a you-sized hole when I had you in front of me the whole time.”

“So you still want me? Even after I was the idiot coward that kept fucking up?” The blue eyes were big and watery with small traces of fear as they held her gaze steady, foreheads knocked together.

“Of course I still want you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted, Seb.”

__

Tag List

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[keravnous]

- agent 14/agent steven haines; my drug is my baby (nsft, smut)

It's hot out and Steve's wide awake. His bedroom windows are opened and there's a soft breeze rolling in, toying with the curtains and leaving a soft trace on his warm skin. He sighs and rolls on his stomach, blindly reaching out with one hand, until he touches his phone. His hand clutches around it and pulls. The display blinds him for a split second and he curses under his breath. No new messages.

He's not really surprised. The only person messaging him these days is 14 but they aren't really talking right now, with both of them still being so goddamn angry, so that's that.

He mindlessly checks his social, a former frat getting married, another couple buying another dog and someone's new car. He doesn't care, he can't even bring himself to act, to convince at least himself, that he does. He's missing something. Someone.

His thumb hovers over the display.

No. Yes. No.

He can hear the city breathe. Cars honking, the tram and a slight wind rustling the few leaves this grey concrete hell hole still has to offer. He misses the sound Warren makes, when he's asleep, how soft his breath is.

Steve shakes his head, as if that would have him get rid of the thought more easily. He misses his warmth, how he sometimes hooks one leg around his, arms stretched out. When he's asleep they don't fight.

Steve knows that he can't blame it on 14, they both are to blame, they both are equally responsible. If one of their superiors ever were to find out what they had been doing these past months they'd both vanish from this earth, erradicated like they'd never exist, justified by their act of treason.

And yet there they are: fighting. Rather with their fists and teeth, than with words. His colleagues start to notice the bruises (and even though they don't say a word he is still paranoid about it). Not all of them are born out of aggression, most are a result of the lust that captures their fucked up minds once the violence starts to blossom between them. It turns them on, it turns Steve on, when Warren's hands connect with him in the worst ways possible. It makes his blood sing and his dick hard and he just wants. Wants to press the other man down and take take take until the taking becomes an act of giving, which always errupts the most beautiful sounds from Warren.

He hates himself for the thought, but everything could be just perfect, they could be perfect, like handmade pieces carved to only fit each other. But it's not like that, it's way more hurtful. Their opinions on work, on the government and secret agencies drift apart like Pangaea. It's hell really, one of them starts screaming at one point and then there's no going back. They are both too ambitious, willing to sacrifice everything for their jobs and sometimes Steve wonders not if there will be, but how huge of a blood bath they will go down in. The thought scares him and he knows it scares Warren too, but they don't talk about it, keep their fears far away from each other, locked behind thick vault doors.

They often try their hardest not to talk about work. But eventually, like most people who only really live for their jobs, they drift back to it. It's Steve, who hates that Warren himself is somewhat a criminal and it's Warren who hates, that Steve won't admit that he isn't far form it himself.

They blame and attack each other for failures or provocations of their respective employers and it either ends in slammed doors or sweaty bodies sticking together.

Steve misses it, the adrenaline that shoots through his veins in these moments, the way Warren's body responds to his, how the other feels under his fingers. He misses misses misses and it keeps him awake.

He thinks about the last time he's seen Warren, squirming beneath him, throwing his head back, arching into his touch while throwing slurs his way. Steve thinks about him, about his touch. It's torture and he rolls back onto his stomach, while his mind conjures up a truly beautiful, delicious image.

Steve's sitting down, legs spread wide, back straightend but relaxed nonetheless. Warren kneels in front of him, cheeks slightly reddend, his hands carefully resting on Steve's firm thighs. His eyes are trained on Steve's hard dick, obscenely standing against his abdomen. Warren's bleeding. His nose looks broken and blood slowly tickles over his plump lips, down his chin. His tongue darts out, licks it away, cleans his lips.

Steve groans quietly and rocks his hips into the mattress once, twice, his hands gripping into the sheets as he rocks against the surface, growing hotter and harder.

He had betrayed him, sold his secrets, endangered Steve's life and thus, he has to show him his place again. Warren's eyes are trained on his cock and Steve hums, gently places his hand on the back of 14's head, runs it down to his neck, around to the front and presses down. The noise that erupts from Warren's throat makes the hairs on Steve's body stand up, as he slowly tilts his head back, giving Steve better access to his throat. Blood runs down the delicate, pale skin, pools between Steve's fingers. He runs his hand up again, brushes across Warren's lower lip with his thumb, then forces three fingers in. He gags, his eyelids flutter, before he starts sucking.

Steve moans. The sound is deep in his throat and his boxers are groing tight fast. He impatiently pulls the front down and himself out, raises his hip and closes his hand around his dick.

"You want the real thing, don't you, pretty boy?" Warren's bloody chin now dripples with saliva and he nods, hums around Steve's fingers. He pulls them out and looks at Warren, hits him another time across the face for good measure.

"Come on then, right your wrongs", Steve leans back and Warren lashes forward, tongue darting out and licking a wet stripe from the base to the top.

Steve tucks at himself and moans. It doesn't replace Warren, his scent, his touch, how he feels around and underneath him, his voice but it'll do, if he keeps himself focussed enough. He hates him so much, it makes his stomach twist, he hates his arrogant smile, the edge to his voice when he feels superior and his strut, how he tilts his shoulders back. Steve wants to take one of his cigarettes and burn his delicate skin right there between his shoulder blades, so he won't act all high and mighty anymore. Steve also wants so put his hands on his skin, his body and worship it, every little mole, kiss it until the world ends, burning and crumbling by the wars they wage.

He spits into his hand, rubbing his own saliva around his dick.

Warren leans in, all wet lips, blood and saliva and throaty groans and closes his lips around the tip of Steve's cock. His tongue swirls around it in the warmth in his mouth, hot liquid dripping down the hard shaft.

Steve rolls around, thrusting into his fist, his head buried deep in his cushion, moaning from the back of his throat. His body feels lonely, oddly cold, even though it's warm out and in his bedroom as well, and he raises his free hand, runs it across his flushed chest in a manner Warren would. It makes his heart flutter and his dick twitch.

"You like that, huh?" Warren lets his dick go with an obscene sound and hums deep in his throat.

"Yeah, fuck, I do."

It's what sends Steve to do an insanely stupid thing. He reaches out and grabs his phone, unlocks it while cupping his balls with one hand, squeezing and tugging, while scrolling through his contacts.

The voice on the other end sounds tired, not angry at all. Steve would like to be it the other way around, he wants to be yelled at, hit and torn.

"Why the fuck are you calling, it's literally three in the morning", there's a little yawn and Steve wishes he'd be here, "You better be bleeding out somewhere to bother me now, Haines."

He wants to hit him back with something witty, smart, rude but there's nothing more leaving his mouth but a moan, as his hand wanders up his dick again. There's silence on the other end. It makes his blood race, boil.

"Haines?"

"Yeah fuck, who do you think it is?", his voice is deep and buried in his throat. He groans.

There's a low chuckle on the other end. He wishes he could see that smile, he wishes he could tear it off of Warrens face.

"You ain't really getting yourself off right now, are you?", and when there's no answer just a deep and low sigh, 14 tsks, "That's actually pathetic, Haines."

He sounds wide awake now. Good.

"Tell me", there's shuffling on the other end, "Tell me what you're doing, you moron."

Steve smiles and tugs at his dick, with Warren purring deep into his ear. "Fuck, I'm", he sighs, feels the tension running deep through his stomach, "Touching myself."

"And you're thinking of me? How cute. Ain't you ashamed of yourself, Haines?"

Usually it's Steve who has the upper hand in the little dangerous game they're playing, it comes naturally with him being the higher ranking one, but he will make an exception tonight. Warren's tone is spurring him on, how he talks down on him. He would love for Warren to be here, for Warren to look and talk down on him, to spit in his face and sneer at him.

The words leave his mouth quicker than he can act against them.

"Wish you were here, fuck, touching me."

_

The next morning Steve's late to work. He doesn't even remember the last time he hasn't been on time. Must've been years ago. His chest burns as his shirt rubs over the sore skin. Warren had told him to run his hands over his chest harder harder harder until his nails had scraped the skin. The stinging sensation feels good, it's a nice reminder of last night.

As he rushes towards the FIB building across the empty plaza, he sees a figure leaning against one of the chairs.

"Late, Haines?", it's Warren. He's smoking a cigarette.

Steve raises his hand and shows him his finger.

He knows he's fucked, they both are.

_

It's Wednesday when he gets the mail and Friday when he enters the meeting room. His boss is there and so is Mrs. Rackham, he's seen her once or twice, but this time she's not alone. There are other agents with her and, of course because his life's just gotta be like that, 14 is there too.

His gaze drops to Steve's take-away cup and his lips curl into a smug grin. "If I knew we were having a potluck, I would've brought something as well", his voice is deep and calm, collected, like velvet and Steve'-s pulse sings with it.

"14", Mrs. Rackham's voice cuts through the air, admonishing, like a mother scolding her child.

Now it's Steve's time to grin and he drops his free hand to his belt, hooks one thumb underneath it and cocks his hips forward, looks at Warren. It's the same look he shoots him when Warren sinks to his knees to obediently suck his dick and he eyes him up and down. 14 blushes, his gaze drops.

Steve bathes in his display of power, the feeling that erupts from it takes him flying high. To them, it looks like 14 is listening to his superior but only the two of them know that he isn't. Only the two of them know that he's bowing to Steve's will. They had a change in their power dynamic last night and Steve is not willing to accept that, maybe he's even afraid to do so.

As they take their seats they look at each other once more and Steve feels his stomach flutter.

_

They were at each others throats the second they found themselves to be alone on the floor. Now, only a few minutes later, Steve has Warren bend over the sink of the bathroom. The door is locked but the idea of them being caught, someone seeing how he toys with one of the leading IAA Field Agents, still excites him. He has one hand around Warrens throat, his thumb pressing his chin upward, their eyes meeting in the mirror.

14 is crying. Small, thick tears run down his cheeks, silent evidence of his denied orgasm. He's very pretty that way, Steve thinks, when his cheeks redden and his eyes turn dark, like the stormy sea and his hair's in a mess. He loves it when Warren cries, the sounds he makes and-

"Please."

Steve stops his slow and deep thrusts and blinks dumbfounded. One, two, three seconds pass until he moves again. Laughter spills out of his mouth, deep and satsified.

"What a pretty sound for a pretty boy, huh?", his hand strokes over Warren's ass cheek, gently kneading the flesh below the palm. It's soft and warm and it grounds him.

His voice drops in both, octave and volume, as he leans forward, shoving himself even deeper into 14, lips against his ear. "Say that again", he whispers, tongue darting out and toying with his earlobe.

"Please, Steve. For fucks sake, please fuck me", Warren moans and throws his head back, pressing his throat into Steve's palm more firmly. He presses down and Warren yelps, squirms and their gazes meet in the mirror once more.

Warren holds his own mouth shut with one hand, drowning his moans and screams, as Steve ruts into him like an animal gone wild, fucking them both senseless.

_

Steve's phone rings and he picks up, opening another bottle of wine.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"So, you're still alive then?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am." Why wouldn't I be?

"Good. Just wanted to check."

"Warren?"

"Yeah?"

"Should I be worried?"

"No", and he trust him, because the word carries all the fear, all the thoughts that Steve grew so painfully familiar with.

_

The next time they see each other is a rather spontaneous thing. Well, at least Steve hasn't invited Warren over but there he is, standing in his doorway, hair a mess, his leather jacket on. He eyes Steve up and down, his gaze stops at the obvious bandage around his upper arm. Warren slowly raises his hand and gently touches it. Steve doesn't flinch.

"I saw the news", Warren says, his voice low and nearly inaudible.

"I'm fine."

"You got shot", he looks seriously upset now.

"I'm still alive, ain't I?"

And then he's on him, arms around his neck, lips pressed onto his own, hungrily devouring him. Steve feels Warren's warmth radiating against him and he slips his hands under his jacket, pulls his firm, muscular frame closer, flush against him. "I-, I was-", he doesn't have to say it, Steve knows anyway. Afraid, Worried, Scared, Frightened.

"I'm still here, pretty boy", he runs his good hand through Warren's dark hair and they look at each other and Steve knows, it hits him like a train, that they are both gone. Warren's gaze is soft and it's so beautiful, but somehow Steve wishes he'd yell at him again, lash out and throw hands at him. That was easier to handle than whatever they just turned into.

They are gentle with each other, for the first time. It's all slow kisses, soft touches and intertwined bodies, heat and whispered words. Steve holds Warren by his hips as he grinds down on his dick and gently brushes over his abdomen, his hip bones and chest with his hands, wants to feel and discover every inch of his body. Warren leans down and kisses him, soft and warm, plush lips that gently move against his own, a tongue darting out, making its way into his mouth. It makes his stomach flutter and fingertips tingle, so he hooks his good arm around his waist and helps 14 to rock onto him, the other hand gently resting on his leg.

They cum with their foreheads pressed together firmly, so close together that their eyelashes are nearly touching, gazes locked on each other. Steve pulls Warren close after that, hooks his good arm around him and it doesn't take long until they are at each other again, kissing gently, hands wandering, tongues touching.

_

Steve wakes up in the early hours of the next morning, Warren's back pressed against him. His breath is easy, he seems to be sleeping still. Steve buries his nose in his neck and breathes in. Out. In. Out. In - until he falls asleep again.

_

Ignoring each other at work and during the breaks becomes increasingly harder. Steve is getting itchy with the stress it puts onto him.

_

"The fuck did you do?", Warren slams his glas down. It doesn't break but Steve hears it shatter anyways. Of course they'd fight once again, once more. Maybe they never really stopped, maybe they were just on a break, an armistice.

He's talking about Michael and his associates kidnapping Mr. K.

"This is business, Warren. This has nothing to do with you."

"Are you completely nuts, Haines? She'll have your head for this, Daniels will kill you."

Steve looks at him and his gaze quickly turns into a stare. This is not about him, it never has been and it now dawns on him. He's not even yelling, his voice is firm and nearly a whisper.

"Me? Don't you dare act like you care about me when it comes to this. You're afraid what this will mean for you, aren't you? If they ever unveil that you fuck me, the one responsible for subject K gone missing? What will they think of you then, huh?"

Warren blinks. Once, twice. "Are you fucking deluded, Haines?"

Steve has missed how Warren beats and tears at his clothes and hurts so so so good. He relishes in the pain that 14 is exposing him to, until he can't hold back the gnarling animal in his chest anymore and lashes out as well, hits back and hits hits hits until they are covered in blood.

_

It hurts so good, his cuts and bruises hurt so good. Steve had missed this, missed the pain so much. Warren lies next to him, chest heaving, blood on his hands and his face, it's in his hair and on his legs as well. Steve wants to fuck him raw, until he screams and cries.

Steve wants to make Warren his, and only his. And he's ready to give himself up for it, too.

[naralanis]

little bumps in the road (pt. 11)

Previously on LBitR...

Lena is completely mortified, and untangles herself from Kara with a swift jump backwards with far more force than is perhaps warranted to push away a powerless Kryptonian.

“Lena?” Kara says, looking confused as Lena recoils as if she has been burned, eyes hurt. Lena takes another step away.

“Sorry,” Lena gasps out, hating how small and hoarse and weak her voice sounds. “I’m just gonna--I’m OK. I just need--” she walks backwards until she collides with the door, and immediately starts fumbling for the handle, taking long, miserable seconds to locate it. “I just need some air.”

Kara opens her mouth to say something, already taking a step in her direction, but Lena doesn’t give her the chance--she’s already bolting out of the room and slamming the door behind her, practically stumbling onto the motel’s nearly deserted car park.

She knows Alex will stop Kara from following after her, and for the moment, she is incredibly grateful for that--she doesn’t think she’ll survive another breakdown in Kara’s presence.

Lena sinks to plonk rather ungracefully right on the curb, between their Jeep and Alex’s atrociously parked motorcycle. Lena wants to go away, to put some distance between herself and the Danvers sisters, but she has nowhere to go, so she just rests her head on her knees and curls tight into herself.

She breathes in, deep and as slow as she can, and then out, once, twice, again and again. Lena hates feeling this weak, this helpless. Her mind is all she has, and if she can’t control her own thoughts, her own memories, then Lena’s got absolutely nothing left. Something is terrifyingly wrong with her--she knows it, can feel it so deeply and keenly in her bones, in her own subconscious.

Lena sits at the curb for quite some time, distracting herself by watching the cars speeding down the road from the space between her knees; fixates on the hum of the ice machine right behind her, and times her breaths to the slow, lazy flickering of the word VACANCY in a not-so-bright yellow neon.

The more she tries to think back to the Kryptonite incident--to place herself in the event, to remember what happened when and where--the more her brain hurts. It’s almost a physical pain, like her thoughts are loose cogs rattling around, bouncing and denting her skull. Her thoughts feel physically heavy, and she doesn’t know how much longer she can carry them. 

She hears Kara and Alex talking in the room--their voices are muted, and Lena can’t quite make out what they’re saying, though she doesn’t really try. Instead, she focuses on other sounds--car doors slamming, an engine backfiring, and just. Breathes.

The sun is close to setting when she hears the door to their room opening--she doesn’t need to look up to know that it’s Kara approaching with tentative steps. Kara’s red converse--stained with chocolate ice-cream--come into her field of view momentarily, before the blonde plops down next to her with a world-weary sigh.

“Turns out, bees like chocolate ice-cream,” she says matter-of-factly. “I dropped some on my shirt earlier and they were really after me. I had no idea bee stings hurt that bad!”

It’s clearly meant to humour Lena, and it works, somewhat. She lets out a little half-laugh, but the image of Kara actually feeling pain from something as innocuous as bees strikes an altogether different chord.

“So,” Kara continues, lightly bumping Lena’s shoulder with her own. “You good? You’ve been out here a while.”

Lena wants to say that no, she is very, very much nowhere near ‘good’ right now--she’s afraid she’s starting to lose her goddamn mind and she has no idea how to stop it, how to get back in control.

“I’m fine,”she says instead, looking down at the pavement between her knees, studying the fissures on the concrete.

To her credit, it doesn’t look like Kara believes her at all; but, also to her credit (not to mention Lena’s immense relief and gratitude) she doesn’t push the issue either.

“Alex was saying you figured out what’s wrong with me.”

Kara’s voice is nonchalant, a little forcibly disinterested, maybe, and she punctuates her question with an idle pull of the stubborn little weeds that managed to sprout from the cracks in the pavement. She tears at the leaves slowly, and for a moment all Lena can sense besides Kara’s presence (and her ill-concealed curiosity) is the sound of ripping leaves and the faint smell of freshly cut grass.

“Lena?” Kara prods gently.

“Alex didn’t tell you?”

Kara shrugs, looking at the little mound of leaves she’s torn, piled neatly on her thigh. “I wanted to hear it from you.”

Lena nods. “Yeah,” she confirms with a deep exhale. “I figured it out.”

Lena doesn’t need to look at Kara to know that she is smiling from ear-to-ear. It’s like she can feel the brightness of that grin the same way she feels the warmth of sunlight.

“Yes! That’s awesome, Lena!” Kara quips happily, nudging her shoulder again. “How do we fix it?”

“It’s actually quite simple,” Lena says, glad to have the opportunity to make her errant brain focus on something else. She’s already drawing up schematics and working through formulas in her head--she can’t wait until she has the proper equipment to actually work on it and distract herself from whatever spiral her mind’s sinking into.

“The Kryptonite bonded with some of your blood cells--well, traces of it did, anyway.” She explains. “We basically just have to figure out a way to filter them out; then you’ll be as good as new.”

“That’s great news!” Kara laughs, hands clapping together in sheer excitement. “Rao, thank you, Lena.”

It’s the sheer sincerity in Kara’s tone that breaks her.

Lena feels the sob bubbling up her chest and her throat, but it wrenches its way out before she can even think about stopping it--her chest feels tight, and her eyes are burning, and withing seconds she’s sobbing in earnest, trembling and biting at her sleeve so she doesn’t wail like a child in this parking lot.

Kara, blessedly, doesn’t say anything at all. While Lena hugs her own knees to her chest, hides her face in her arms, Kara merely sits there, occasionally rubbing soothing circles on her back as Lena cries herself hoarse.

She cries until she’s spent, until she’s empty--of tears, of feelings, of thoughts in general. Her eyes are stinging and her cheeks are wet with tears, and Lena none-too-gently wipes at her face with her sodden sleeve, sniffling and trying to compose herself as Kara remains silent.

Without a word, Kara reaches under Lena’s chin and turns her head so their gazes meet. She looks blurry to Lena through the film of tears still clinging to her eyes, but the blonde merely clicks her tongue and wipes at a few of her errant tears with her thumb.

“You shouldn’t thank me,” Lena says through a shiver once her sobs subside; Kara wipes at her fresh tears slowly and tenderly, and Lena doesn’t feel like she deserves this gentleness. “You shouldn’t thank me, you shouldn’t comfort me. I’m the reason we’re in this mess.”

“Maybe you are,” Kara says, though her tone is gentle. “But so am I.”

Lena snorts--it’s inelegant and a little ridiculous, but she can’t help it, and she’s not feeling particularly elegant at the moment. “I’m the one who shot you full of Kryptonite,” she points out.

Kara sighs. “And you’re the one taking it out of me. That’s that.”

“Kara... it’s not that simple,” Lena whispers. She knows she sounds defeated, but that is exactly how she feels. She wishes it could be that simple. She wishes they could erase everything and start over, or maybe never start at all and save themselves the heartbreak.

Kara shrugs. “Maybe not,” she concedes, hand returning to rub circles at Lena’s back. “But right now, it has to be. I need you, Lena--not just to get this Kryptonite out of me and to help me punch your brother into the sun, but I want--I need my best friend back. I need you.”

Lena wants to ask how on Earth Kara is able to make it that simple. She wants to point out that there is simply too much between them--too much they haven’t discussed, too many likes, too many accusations... there was so much anger and distrust between them, and now... well.

Lena’s running. Kara’s powerless. They have nothing left to lose. Except, maybe, each other. That thought is incredibly depressing, but, inexplicably, it makes Lena break into a shy smile--her lips tug upwards almost of their own volition.

Kara notices her tentative grin, and responds by taking Lena’s hands, hooking their pinkies together over that cracked curbside. The gesture has the same effect to Lena as one of her sunshine-warm hugs--it envelops her entirely, calms her like a soothing balm.

Lena’s whisper is soft, but she knows the Kryptonian doesn’t need her super hearing to hear it.

“I need you, too.”

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

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[goldentournesol]

Unwanted Matchmaker

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

The one where Spencer and Y/N get kidnapped by an unsub who wants to set them up.

Length: 2.5k

Read Part 2!

masterlist

   It was no exaggeration to call Spencer a coffee addict. He, like the rest of his team, needed it so he could function properly. Imagine his disappointment when his favorite coffee shop closed temporarily for remodeling. He compromised and visited a different coffee shop, one that he had never been to before seeing as Spencer was very much a creature of habit. He entered the small shop, the aroma of the sweet beans stimulating all of his senses. He took in the rustic design of the shop and decided that he liked the vaguely familiar homey vibe he got from it. He strolled up to the counter and ordered his coffee the way he liked it: way too sweet. A few minutes later,  he got his coffee and took a seat in the corner of the shop, just beside a window. There he was, sipping his coffee, unsurprisingly nose-deep in a book about quantum physics when he heard the soft bell of the door sounding, his eyes landing on her. 

You know how in the movies, time slows for a second? That was what it felt like the second she walked in. It was exceedingly rare for Spencer to lose focus of whatever he was doing, but he couldn’t help it. Her gravitational pull was much too strong. He immediately soaked her in, from her bright eyes to her bright smile to...everything! Everything was bright about her. Spencer’s brain had never in his life stopped whirring like it did in that moment. She carried herself with such grace as she approached the counter and gleefully greeted the woman who took her order. He couldn’t hear her voice but he knew if he did, he would never want to forget it, not that he could anyway. The woman on the other side of the counter reacted with warmth, he realized that she was a regular at the shop. Spencer was not one to stare, but he found it to be a real challenge to take his eyes off of her. She had on a flowy patterned dress with short sleeves, one that Spencer could not have imagined on anyone else. She had music on in her earbuds and he could tell because she was tapping her foot along to the beat that only she heard. Her hair flowed effortlessly behind her shoulders in a way that seemed eerily perfect. He watched as she absentmindedly toyed with her phone as she waited for her coffee.

A noise from his phone ripped him out of his reverie as he realized he was going to be late for work, he had relished in his reverie longer than he had intended to. He hurriedly closed his book and packed it away. He picked up his coffee and made a quick turn to exit. He passed by her quickly, she hadn’t even looked up from her phone which somewhat put Spencer at ease, because there was no way of knowing just how late he would have been if she happened to actually look at him. 

An entire month had gone by and his old favorite coffee shop hadn’t even crossed his mind. He made a habit of waking up a half hour early to make sure he had enough time to see her in the shop. His nervousness was growing each and every day, hoping that one day it wouldn’t grow past the previous day’s. He wished he had an ounce of Morgan’s courage just so he could talk to her. Spencer learned her name from hearing it being called out to her order every day. He couldn’t think of a name that could have suited her more. 

It was strange when one day he received an envelope with his name on it at work. There was no return address and inside it contained a threatening letter written by what seemed to be someone’s wrong hand as a forensic countermeasure and a photo of him on his way to work from last week. An unsettling realization hit him and he felt his blood run cold.

 Someone was stalking him.

He received a different letter every day with a new photo of him for a week. He had no idea how long this person had been watching him. Hotch and the team had been informed of all the ominous letters and photos he had been receiving and the reaction was just as he had expected it to be. 

“Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt you?” Emily asked as soon as she found out, seated at the conference room table with the entire team.

Spencer gave her a look as he reminded her, “We put away criminals for a living, Emily.” She sighed and nodded, accepting his answer.

“Okay, we need to retrace your steps as well as a detailed description of what you do from the second you wake up to the second you step foot into the office.” Hotch reasoned.

“Alright, I wake up and get ready for work. I leave my house and head to the coffee shop three streets down. I get my coffee, sit down and read for a bit, then walk to the Metro to get to work.” Spencer recites.

“Do you interact with anyone on the way?” Morgan inquires. Spencer shakes his head.

JJ sighs, “Well at least his threats have all been non-violent thus far.” She hoped she wasn’t speaking too soon.

That night, after work, he took his usual route back home. As he was unlocking his door, a man came up from behind him and stuffed a rag drenched with chloroform up to his nose and mouth. Spencer was out like a light before he could even react.

------

Spencer awoke later to the smell of smoke coming from a lit cigarette. He immediately coughed and looked around. He was sitting at a metal table in a dimly lit room with concrete walls. Anger overtook him as he realized he was handcuffed to a metal bar on the table much like a police precinct’s interrogation table, with another chair on the other side. He saw cigarette smoke out of the corner of his eye and realized that there was someone behind him standing in the dark.

“Ah, finally. Good morning, Dr. Reid.” A man’s voice echoed both in the room and in Spencer’s bones.

“Come out of the shadows, you coward.” Spencer found himself uttering before he had the chance to think about it.

A short, stocky man emerged and Spencer immediately recognized him from the coffee shop. He would sit at the opposite side of the shop, with his cup of tea, surveying everyone. Now that he thought about it, Spencer should have been suspicious of his actions, but it was safe to say that Spencer’s mind was always on something else when he was there. Suddenly, he froze, silently hoping and praying that this unsub would leave her out of this.

“I’ve been watching you for a long time, Dr. Reid.” he said, “You know who else I’ve been watching? Hm?” He egged him on, “oh-I’m sorry, maybe I should say we’ve been watching.” He let out a chuckle. The man placed an old laptop in front of Spencer with photos of her on it and stood behind him as he shuffled through them.

Spencer felt his heart literally shatter at the sight of the various photos. She had no idea someone was following her, and it was all his fault.

“Quite gorgeous if I do say so myself.” The man mumbled into Spencer’s ear.

“She has nothing to do with this. Leave her out of it.” Spencer stated with an exasperation he’d come to know too well.

The man let out a hot, foul smelling breath on Spencer’s neck, “I guess they’re calling just anyone geniuses these days...you’re wrong, Dr., she has everything to do with this.” He straightened his back and Spencer’s eyes followed him as he left the room. 

Spencer knew his team would get this guy as soon as they’d realized he’d gone missing. 

Spencer heard a soft whimpering noise and a few yells from the man down what seemed like a hallway.

“Please, please don’t hurt me!” The desperate voice of a woman called. He wished he hadn’t recognized it the way that he did. Spencer saw two figures appear in the doorway. The man reappeared and he was holding a trembling woman by her hair. He recognized the flowy patterned dress immediately.

“Sit down, princess.” He shoved her into the seat on the opposite side of Spencer. His calm eyes met with her teary wide ones. He saw a flash of recognition in them. He knew she recognized him from the coffee shop. Her cuffed hands flew to his in a desperate search for comfort. Spencer squeezed her trembling hands gently, hoping to ease her nerves. Her ragged breathing was interrupted as she tried to speak.

“Help me, please.” She whispered, barely audible, but Spencer heard her.

“My name is Dr. Spencer Reid, I’m with the FBI. Don’t worry, we’re going to get out of here.” He said hurriedly to her, squeezing her hands again to reassure her. She breathed a sigh of relief, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” She shook her head, but the tears never stopped spilling out.

The unsub laughed, “Ugh, how romantic!”

Spencer was unsure of what the unsub’s true intentions were and found that his brows knitted together in confusion as he lit two candles and placed them onto the table between Spencer and Y/N. Spencer’s heart sank to his stomach as he came to the realization that this was his sick, twisted way of setting them up. She mirrored his confusion as the unsub poured some wine in two glasses.

“I’m sure you’re both wondering what the hell is going on. Welcome to your first date.” He smiled with an evil glint. He was an organized psycho-pathological unsub with a fantasy that Spencer was sure would end distastefully. Y/N began to tremble again as the man inched towards her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and they roamed around in a hungry fashion. She whimpered softly, terrified and quite honestly disgusted.

“Don’t touch her!” Spencer croaked, hopefully more menacingly than he heard it. He held a strong facade in order to calm her.

“Hm, oh, why not? You were too slow...you see, my beautiful Y/N, Dr. Reid here has had his eye on you for a while. But he was too much of a coward to do anything about it.” Spencer looked away momentarily, he knew he shouldn’t let the unsub’s words get to him but he knew he was right. 

Spencer found himself rolling his eyes and scoffing, allowing his facade to return and not falter any longer, “You’re quite the matchmaker, aren’t you, then?”

“The longer you speak to me, the faster she dies.” The man’s hands quickly moved around her neck and squeezed tightly at Spencer’s challenge. She panicked, her breath escaping her, nails digging into Spencer’s hands.

“Stop! Don’t hurt her!” 

“That’s what I thought.” The man’s grip loosened but instead caressed her face and hair.

Spencer’s eyes looked into hers apologetically. Her tears resumed. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles and cleared his throat, going along with the unsub’s plan. He tried to stall as much as he could so that his team would get there before it was too late.

“So, Y/N, what do you do?” Spencer asked her, glancing at the unsub as he nodded in approval. He ignored the nod. Spencer squeezed her sweaty hand to encourage her to play along with him.

A sob left her lips and she took another ragged breath, “I-I’m an art teacher at the um...elementary s-school down the street.” She said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. The man pushed her chair in an explosive manner, “Louder!” he demanded. She winced at his voice and cried.

“I’m an art teacher!” She sniffled. Spencer couldn’t understand how she managed to still look so beautiful while crying. Spencer smiled a little and nodded encouragingly. Her expression softened.

“That’s really neat. How long have you been teaching?”

“Almost 4 years.” She couldn’t understand how he remained calm.

“This is so boring! Get into the good stuff!” The unsub exclaimed with a maniacal look in his eye.

Spencer glared at him behind her, “What else do you want?”

The unsub didn’t like his challenging tone, so he grabbed a handful of hair and yanked it as hard as he could, until he pulled her out of the chair and onto the floor forcefully. She screamed in pain and Spencer stood up in anger, wanting to charge towards him but he was chained to the table.

“I told you to leave her alone! If you’re going to hurt anyone, hurt me, not her.” He yelled.

The unsub laughed, “Sit down, Dr.” 

When Spencer refused, he felt the man’s fist collide with the left side of his face. Although it hurt like a bitch, he was glad he punched him and not her.

Just as the man was about to swing again, the door was kicked down by none other than Derek Morgan.

“FBI! Freeze!” Spencer was so happy to see his teammates rush in to their aid. 

“Jack Johnson, you’re under arrest. Anything you say can and will be held against you in the court of law.” Spencer heard Hotch recite the Miranda rights to him. JJ rushed to Y/N’s aid on the floor. Before he knew it, they were being led out of the place they were being kept at. Spencer didn’t get the chance to talk to Y/N again until all the commotion died down with the paramedics and cop cars. He approached her as she was seated at the back of an ambulance. She had a blanket wrapped around herself and seemed to have calmed down quite a bit. The paramedic tended to a cut she must have gotten when she hit the floor. She spotted him and smiled. Even in that moment, her smile made him weak at the knees despite the adrenaline rushing through his brain.

“Hey.” She said.

“Hi, are you alright?”

“I will be,” she nodded, “listen, I really want to thank you for keeping me sane in there.” She looked at him with an endearing shyness.

Spencer smiled, “You can thank me by letting me take you out on a date. A proper date, not--whatever the hell that was in there.” he laughed slightly. She found herself laughing as well.

“Honestly, I thought you’d never ask.” she replied, “If I had known I had to get kidnapped for you to finally ask me out, I would’ve just asked you a long time ago!” She laughed and the sound literally made his heart flutter.

He felt a blush creep up to his ears and smiled sheepishly, “I’m so sorry, really. Next Friday, I’ll take you out.”

She smiled and they exchanged information, “Next Friday.” She repeated in confirmation.

Spencer grinned and hoped more than anything that Friday came around as fast as it could.

Part 2!

[ahkaahshi]

exploration [sakusa kiyoomi x reader]

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x fem reader

genre: smut (18+)

warning(s): explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, light degradation, dirty talk, mean-ish?? then nice dom sakusa, rough sex, orgasm denial, being stimulated in public, swearing

word count: 2.9k

overview: you wanna try new things. some of them work and some of them don’t, but it’s all a learning experience.

notes: yall my heart just went 🥺 soft sakusa 🥺 yet again (I'm rlly weak for him obviously I have no issue admitting it) but I wanted to give him a lil edge too ya feel? I rlly banged this out with my last two braincells so I hope you enjoy :)

As you wander around the large, open space in the elegant, modern art museum, heels clicking against the cold, concrete floor, your (e/c) eyes drift from one painting to the next. The steady, gentle rhythm of some, ethereal lounge music echoes around the room just under the hum of conversations taking place nearby. Though they’re speaking of things mostly foreign to you, since they’re members of a much higher society than that in which you live, you can’t help but find yourself somewhat entertained by the gossip you hear circulating amongst the women as they chat over a few too many cocktails.

Spending the evening perusing expensive artwork in such a luxurious venue, wearing a dress you hope looks fancy enough while you rub shoulders with the elite is definitely not a normal occasion in your day to day life. However, with your boyfriend’s constantly climbing popularity as a professional athlete, his name was starting to show up on more of the guest lists to exclusive events such as this exclusive art showcase you find yourself at now. While it’s interesting--to an extent--you do find yourself growing bored from time to time. Earlier, your beloved’s teammates had been around to entertain you, but they’d since left to help themselves to the open bar.

Not even moments after you let out a soft sigh and readjust the strap of your dress on your shoulder, you feel a familiar vibration emanate from deep inside of you. The intensity and location of the sensation make one hand fly to your mouth to stifle a small squeal that escapes your throat while the other grips the chiffon of your dress’s skirt. Turning away from the few gazes that have fastened on you at your reaction to what seems like absolutely nothing, you look through the doorway into the next room to see your boyfriend watching you with rapt attention.

His hand is buried in the pocket of his sleek, black trousers, thumb resting atop the button of the remote he’s using to make the vibrator nestled inside of you jump to life. With the way he’s been using your desire to do more exploration in terms of kinks and sexual fantasies to keep you on the brink of an orgasm all night long, you’re starting to regret suggesting the idea of a bullet vibrator earlier today. By this point, your panties are uncomfortably wet and you’re on the verge of getting on your knees in front of the event’s other patrons and begging him to fuck you.

You’ve been holding yourself together the entire evening, even keeping your drink from spilling when he decided to turn it on right as the bartender handed it off to you, but you’ve had enough now. You figure you’ve been good enough for him to reward you, since you haven’t complained once or let on to the dirty game the two of you were playing to see who caved first and asked to go home. You don’t mind letting him win this round, since you know you’ll get what you want either way.

As nonchalantly as you can when your core is abuzz with stimulation and your stomach is clenching from the sensation, you make quick strides across the room to where he’s standing. He seems to sense what you’re about to ask him, so he turns off the vibrator and places his hand on the small of your back when you arrive at his side.

“Kiyoomi,” you whine softly, running your fingertips along the soft material of his crisp, button-up shirt he’s wearing beneath a suit jacket.

He raises a dark eyebrow at you and hums questioningly in response, waiting for you to admit defeat.

As much as you don’t want to say it, in this case, you’ll have to put your pride aside to get what you want. Reminding yourself that you’ll find a way to have your fun with him in return at a later point in time gives you some comfort as you move your head closer to his ear.

“Can we go home, baby?” you ask in a demure tone.

“Hmm? Why would you want to do that, (f/n)?” he wonders, his hand remaining annoyingly still where it rests against the back of your dress.

You refrain from letting out a sound of disapproval at his coy attitude, since you know anything you say can and will be held against you in the bedroom in this game you’re playing. Instead, you whisper, “So you can take this tiny, little thing out of me and stuff me with your big cock instead.”

That does it. His fingers grip your waist on their way to meet yours so he can interlace them and lead you back to the entrance of the museum. His teammates urge him to stay and have a few drinks with them, but he’s quick to wave them off and make a hasty exit.

When Bokuto tries to follow the two of you to persuade you to stay, Atsumu grabs his arm and puts his attempt to a halt by hissing, “The man's on a mission ta get fucked, dude. Let ‘im go.”

To that, the tall, white and black-haired man whistles lowly, nods, and heads back to the bar with his teammate for another shot.

You and Sakusa are quick to locate his car, and he unlocks it with a chirp so you can both slide into your respective seats. Before fastening your seatbelt, you lean over towards him to steal a few, long-awaited kisses from his lips that he returns with fervor, giving you a glimpse of the impatience that had apparently been dwelling within him all night long. When you run your hand over the bulge in his pants, though, he’s quick to retreat from your affection and stick his key in the ignition.

“Omi,” you cry softly, brows furrowing and lower lip protruding with dismay. With the way your core is on fire at the moment, you want nothing more than for him to at least give you some relief in the car. The fifteen minutes it’ll take for you to get home are going to be painstaking at this rate.

His dark eyes flick over to you, narrowed ever so slightly with irritation as he responds, “Being a brat isn’t going to get you what you want.” The two of you lock eyes for a long moment in a silent battle for dominance before you relent, sit back, and buckle in your seatbelt. “Good girl.”

Your body warms at the praise, and grows even hotter when he slides his hand over onto your thigh after reversing out of the parking spot and shifting back into drive. His focus doesn’t leave the street ahead as his fingers find the slit in your skirt and navigate the short stretch of skin between its peak and your valley. Instinctively, you grasp his wrist to guide him closer to your underwear, but he stops.

“Don’t touch me while I'm driving, princess,” is the firm command he utters that makes you release your grip, “You’ll distract me.”

Your fingers dig into the smooth, leather seats as you try your best to restrain yourself, but each stoplight you hit makes you squeeze your thighs together with impatience, trapping his hand between your supple skin. Since he can see how desperate you are, he prods at your clit through your soaked panties, eliciting a gentle moan from you. With the way you've been waiting for him to touch you all night, anything you can get from him feels amazing.

Though he’s being silent, he’s trying his best to contain himself at hearing the pretty sounds slipping out of your mouth and feeling how wet you are. He didn’t realize quite how worked up you were until now.

“Baby, I want more,” you utter after no more than just a few, short minutes of toying with your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He scoffs, “I’m not giving you more. Can't have my leather seats getting ruined by you making a mess when you cum, dirty girl.”

You clench around the slim vibrator at his words and groan when he withdraws his fingers from between your legs. Thankfully, you can see your neighborhood come into view, and he's parking outside your house before you know it. Anticipation sends another painful throb through your walls as you unbuckle your seatbelt, dart out of the car, and hurry towards the front door.

Sakusa seems to be in less of a rush, though, since he takes his time opening the door, removing his shoes, and loosening the tie around his throat. Your tugging at his arm to lead him towards the bedroom only earns you a warning glance, so you wait a few, painfully long seconds for him to finish what he’s doing. Your patience is quickly rewarded, though, when he guides you into the room, yanks down the zipper on your dress, and pushes you onto the bed.

His lips crash against yours as you sling your arms over his shoulders to bring his body down towards yours. Each of his kisses are deep, passionate, and add more fuel to the fire that’s been burning between your legs. Feeling needier than ever, you hastily undo the buttons on his shirt while he unclasps your bra and rids you of your panties in a flash. He swallows the loud moan you release when his fingers slide into your weeping pussy to retrieve the vibrator that’s been lodged inside of you the entire night.

Your hips buck against his fingers as they slide out of you, removing the small device and tossing it aside, so he allows you a sliver of relief by rubbing his fingers coated in your essence against your clit. He watches your expressions of pleasure and the way your muscles twitch as you chase the high you’ve been after all night. The sight of you with your face flushed and eyelids squeezed shut as your lips part to utter more delightful sounds of pleasure makes his erection throb painfully in his pants.

“You poor thing,” he coos, removing his fingers from between your legs, “So desperate to get fucked. Take my pants off and I'll let you cum on my cock since you’ve been a good girl all night, but not until I say so.”

In your hazy state of mind, you reach for his belt, unbuckle it, and set to work undoing his pants. He slides his shirt off before discarding his trousers and littering your neck with more kisses as he slowly inches closer to you. You exhale breathily when you feel him slide the head of his dick from your clit down to your entrance, teasing you by remaining just outside.

“Kiyoomi!” you complain in a moment of sexual frustration, “I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

To this he responds harshly, “Quit whining like a little brat or else I'll fuck your mouth instead so I don’t have to listen to you.”

He sees a look of shock pass over your features like a dark storm cloud drifting in front of the sun, and he worries for an instant that he’s overstepped a boundary. But, to his relief, you rest your head back against the soft covers and breathe, “I'm sorry, baby.”

“That’s my good girl,” he praises in a much gentler tone and places a peck against your sternum before lifting your hips up towards his.

A drawn-out moan spills out of your mouth as he pushes his cock inside of you, giving you the sensation of being full that you’ve so desperately been craving all evening. His gaze remains on yours, and you watch the subtle crinkle of his nose and twitch of the moles above his eyebrow that always accompany a low groan of satisfaction during moments like these. After he’s bottomed out, he allows you a moment to breathe before he begins thrusting into you rather roughly.

Any words you want to say you’re unable to form as he indulges your tight pussy, spreading your legs further with his hand so he can reach deeper and deeper inside you with each snap of his hips against yours. “Well?” he goads, his hot breath fanning across your neck and ear when he moves his head there so he can latch onto your tender skin with his teeth, “Let me hear you, baby. Now.”

You mewl loudly at the sensation of him sucking on your neck in combination with his cock hitting your cervix, sending small jolts of pleasure skittering across your skin like electricity. “Faster, please!” you manage to squeak as your hands move onto his back, fingertips pressing into his muscles, which ripple with every thrust inside of you. His skin feels unbearably hot against yours, causing beads of sweat to form on your bodies.

He obliges your request and picks up his pace until all you’re able to do is let your head roll back and moan unintelligible words while he attacks the sensitive skin on your throat. Every grunt he utters sends tingles down your spine, and you can hear his breathing become more labored whenever he starts succumbing to the satisfaction he’s reaping from being sheathed in your velvety walls while they clench deliciously around him.

Following a particularly rough thrust that nearly has you seeing stars, he mentions, “You were being so expressive about your desires earlier, princess, but you can’t even speak now? Nothing shuts you up quite like having my cock deep in your pussy, huh?” You nod in agreement, since you’re not able to form any coherent words as you rock your body against his.

After a few minutes, you feel the pressure you’ve been holding in your stomach all night long threaten to loosen up, and you whimper, since you’re right on the edge of the orgasm you’ve been waiting too long to experience. Sakusa notices the anguish etched into your features when he takes a pause from decorating your neck with love bites, and rubs your clit with precise movements, targeting your most sensitive spot.

“Cum for me like the good girl you are, princess.”

His husky command pushes you over the edge, and you cry out with ecstasy as you pull him closer to you and buck your hips against him feverishly. The feeling of your pussy pulsating around him bring him to his orgasm faster than expected, and a stream of curse words and praises fall from his mouth onto your ears. He knows you’re on birth control, so he finishes while nestled deep within your core, painting your walls with his release.

The sensation isn't one you’re used to feeling, since he often opts to pull out anyway, but you enjoy coming down from your high while he’s still inside you. Feeling that you’re still connected in the vulnerable moments that follow your sex sessions brings you a sense of comfort you didn’t know you’d been craving.

Once you’ve had some time to regain your breath, he withdraws from you and presses a gentle kiss against your lips. “How was that?” he asks as he lays down beside you and grabs a few tissues to clean up the fluids seeping out of you, onto the duvet.

“Great,” you hum softly, “I enjoyed it. How did it feel for you?”

A look of concern crosses his features as he discards the used tissues in a nearby trashcan. When he turns back to face you, he brushes a few strands of hair away from your eyes and comments, “I’d prefer not to treat you like that.”

“Baby, I know how much you care about me. You’re not hurting my feelings; it’s just roleplaying.” A short pause in your conversation ensues as he contemplates your words while you run your fingers along his neck and jaw. “Would you be open to trying it again, maybe, or was it just not for you?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable speaking to you in that way. I didn’t like calling you a dirty girl or saying that I was gonna fuck your mouth. Seeing your face when I said that nearly made me stop.”

Upon noticing the uncertainty flickering in his dark gaze, you gently coax him to bring his face closer to yours by lightly pressing your fingers against the back of his neck. You then close the gap between your lips once more with a long kiss that you hope communicates to him at least a sliver of the immense amount of love you have for him. His hand cups the side of your face when you pull away, making you smile.

“It’s okay. We won’t do it again if it makes you uncomfortable,” you reassure him, “But will you call me a good girl and take control like that more often? I think I enjoyed that part the most.”

He nods, sending a ripple through the dark sea of waves atop his head, and presses another kiss to your forehead. 

“I love you, Kiyoomi,” you utter when he pulls away.

“I love you too, (f/n). Let’s go in the shower now.”

You let out a low murmur of disagreement and pull him closer to you so that his warm body's hovering over yours once more. Giving him a playful tug on his lower lip with your teeth, you mention, “You made me wait too long tonight for one time to be enough, baby.”

masterlist

dedications: this work is dedicated to the lovely @ohbyunhunn​ :) I hope you enjoy since you were havin a rough day ❤️ thanks for listening to all my whack ideas n supporting me anyway bb 😌

[blueascend]

Most days, Adachi eats lunch with Kurosawa. Since they work in different departments they don’t see each other too much during the work day, so it’s nice to spend that bit of time together. 

Today however, Kurosawa is out with a group of other salesmen from their floor, to close a deal with Cube Enix. Toyokawa is to produce themed stationary to advertise an upcoming anime adaption for one of their series. Kurosawa had told Adachi some of the details while they cooked last night but Adachi hadn’t retained a lot of it, too focused on preparing the ingredients right and not screwing up dinner.

“It’s called - cuties something?” Adachi tells Fujisaki over lunch. 

“Cuties Force X?” Fujisaki says.

“Ah, that’s right! You know it?”

Fujisaki shrugs. “I’ve seen advertisements around. It’s about a group of anthropomorphic animals but I’m not sure about the plot. It looks cute, though, perfect for themed stationary.”

“Hm.” Adachi takes a bite of his burger. “I guess so.”

They finish eating in companionable silence. As they head back to the office, they hear loud chatter and peals of laughter echoing down the hallway. A woman passes them and Adachi’s eyes widen for a moment - she’s sprouted cat ears! - before realizing she’s wearing a headband.

He and Fujisaki exchange puzzled looks but they get their answer as soon as they enter the office. A group of people is gathered around a stack of boxes, and they’re pulling out animal-themed headbands. 

“Adachi! Fujisaki!” Rokkaku calls, waving them over. Kurosawa is standing next to him, wearing an abashed grin and a pair of - are those fox ears? “What do you think?”

“Where did these come from?” Fujisaki asks, accepting the headband Rokkaku thrusts at her. It’s a pair of brown, white-speckled deer ears. At Rokkaku’s urging, she puts them on.

“We closed the deal with Cube Enix! They gave us all this merchandise in order to inspire the planning and development team. But they said they didn’t need all of it, so we offered to take some of the boxes off their hands.”

Adachi peers into the nearest box. It looks like someone threw all their surplus Cuties Force X merchandise in there, all different sorts of headbands and tail pieces carelessly mixed together. 

“We’re picking out headbands based on personality,” one of their coworkers, Nakamura, explains. She’s wearing a pair of zebra ears, which Adachi has no idea what says about her.

“That’s why Kurosawa is a fox,” another coworker, Chino, adds with a giggle.

Kurosawa gives her a polite, somewhat uncomfortable smile. Adachi wants to say something, to deflect the unwanted attention away from him, but thankfully Rokkaku intervenes before he has to.

“What about me?” he asks the women, pointing at his own bare head. “What animal suits me?”

Nakamura tilts her head. “Hm. A bear maybe?”

“A bear?” Rokkaku repeats incredulously. 

“Or a frog?” Chino says.

“A -  they don’t even have ears!”

Adachi startles when something touches his head. He turns to see Kurosawa grinning at him, hands raised to place a headband in Adachi’s hair. Curious, Adachi reaches up to feel long, soft ears.

“Rabbit?” he guesses.

“Bunny,” Kurosawa says, leaning in to quietly add, “because you’re quiet, reserved… and cute.”

Adachi feels his cheeks grow warm but he’s put up with Kurosawa’s teasing for long enough to be able to maintain eye contact at least. “And what’s it supposed to mean that you make me a bunny when you’re a fox?”

“Hm.” Kurosawa tilts his head. “That I want to chase you?”

“And eat me?” Adachi dryly asks. Kurosawa’s grin just widens and okay, now Adachi does have to look away before his face combusts. “Pervert.”

He goes to remove the ears but Kurosawa grabs his wrist to stop him. “Don’t you want to keep them on? Everyone else is.”

Adachi looks around the office to find that Kurosawa is right. Everyone, even the people sitting at their desks, hard at work, is wearing animal ears. 

“They suit you,” Kurosawa adds. 

Adachi huffs. He leans in, quickly whispering before he loses courage, “So do yours.”

It’s worth the embarrassment when Kurosawa beams at his compliment.

*

Adachi blinks. He’s standing in a clearing in a darkened forest, the huge crowns of the trees above blocking nearly any hint of light. The ground below him is soft and damp, fragrant with the heavy scent of decaying leaves. 

He looks around but sees no one. There are no sounds either aside from the wind rustling the leaves; no birds chirping, no small creatures scattering across the forest floor. Whever Adachi is, he’s far away from his burrow.

His… burrow?

Ah, that’s right. He’s a bunny, he lives in a burrow at the edge of the forest. He had to enter it for - something? Food, maybe? For some reason, Adachi is finding it hard to concentrate, to form any concrete thoughts.

Behind him, a twig snaps. Adachi twirls around, ears raised, whole body alert. It’s a fox - a human? - a fox, with orange ears nestled in his dark hair. He’s wearing a suit and looks comically out of place, leaning casually against one of the trees.

“Are you lost, bunny?” the fox asks. It’s Kurosawa, but it’s not, and Adachi can’t figure out how that makes sense but somehow, it does. 

He straightens and Adachi leans back on his heels.

“Don’t come closer,” he says, raising his hands as if he has a chance in hell of fighting the fox off should he decide to give chase. 

Kurosawa grins, clearly thinking the same thing. “Or what? You’ll cuddle me into submission?”

Adachi doesn’t respond. There’s a hungry gleam in Kurosawa’s eyes and it’s making Adachi’s heart pound, making him want - want to be chased, to be caught. 

Clearly, something is wrong with his instincts. He’s just not cut out to be a prey animal.

“Don’t worry.” Kurosawa takes a small step closer. Adachi takes a step back. “My fangs are sharp. You’ll barely feel it when I sink them into your throat.”

Adachi swallows. 

He bolts.

He hears Kurosawa give chase.

Heart hammering wildly as if trying to escape from his chest, Adachi can barely see his surroundings as he runs past them, blurring into shades of green and brown. He’s fast, faster than Kurosawa, but he doesn’t know this forest as well as the fox. 

Every step counts, every stumble could seal his fate. The wind whips past his ears, the taste of copper rising on his tongue. In the distance, he can see the treeline start to grow thinner, rays of sunshine escaping through, and somehow Adachi knows that if he only makes it there, he will have escaped the fox.

He doesn’t. 

His foot catches on a raised root and Adachi goes flying, breath knocked out of him as he lands on the forest floor. He turns around, trying to get back on his feet, but Kurosawa is on top of him in a second, pinning him down.

Adachi stares up at him, frozen. Kurosawa stares back, eyes dark, his grip warm and solid around Adachi’s wrists.

“I caught you,” the fox says.

“Yeah,” Adachi breathes out. He should probably be terrified but it’s not fear that sends his heart pounding again as Kurosawa lowers his head, lips trailing softly against the column of his neck.

“You know what that means, don’t you?”

Kurosawa’s grip on Adachi’s wrists tightens and he’s opening his mouth, tongue hot against Adachi’s skin, his entire body pressed against Adachi’s. Adachi feels the touch of fangs against his throat and squeezes his eyes shut, prepared to feel them sink in when -

A loud noise startles him awake. 

Adachi stares up at the ceiling, brain trying to catch up with everything that just happened. It was… a dream?

Next to him, Kurosawa groans and then leans over Adachi to turn off the alarm on the nightstand. He runs his hand through his hair and then lies down again, giving Adachi a curious look.

“Adachi? Are you okay?”

Adachi blinks. He’s not sure. Is he okay?

“Bad dream?” Kurosawa guesses, rubbing Adachi’s arm comfortingly.

“Ah-” Adachi looks away, heat rising to his cheeks. “Not exactly.”

“Not...” Something new enters Kurosawa’s voice, making it husky. “A good dream, then?”

Adachi swallows. “M-maybe.”

There’s a brief silence. Then Kurosawa’s fingers are gently grasping Adachi’s chin, turning his head to face him. Adachi reluctantly lets him and when he looks Kurosawa in the eyes, they’re gleaming in a familiar way that sends heat pooling in his gut. 

“Wanna tell me about it?” 

[nomazee]

Komorebi (4)

komorebi, p.4

synopsis: Tsukishima dislikes the amount of parallels there are with you and Hinata. He dislikes the way you’re so energetic and exuberant when you want to be, and the way you can get along so well with people. He dislikes the way that people are naturally drawn to you, and the way you’re so willing to put time into your dumb gifts and snacks and treats for a team of boys you barely know. 

But Tsukishima does not dislike you. And he supposes that’s part of the problem.

series content: developing relationship, (sort of) ooc tsukishima, strangers to (sort of) friends to lovers, angst, fluff, slow burn

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six (final)

(THIS TOOK SO LONG TO GET OUT IM SO SORRY and this is definitely shorter than the other chapters (which were already short to begin with) but i hope you guys dont mind that!! that was kind of my intention with this series (i think i’ve mentioned it before,,,?) but this took so long to get out in the first place that i feel like it’s a little underwhelming to have a chapter this short 💀💀 but anyways i hope you like it!!! 

pspspspsps check out this post & help me pick what to do for my 200 special pspspspsps)

☾.:°∗★.:☆:.★∗°:.☽

Tsukishima thinks that the repetition of his surname ringing in his ears is making him go crazy. Well, crazy is the wrong term. He hasn’t lost his senses yet—he thinks that despite being faced with the daunting wall that is attraction, he’s faring rather well in his day-to-day life. 

You, however, don’t seem to be doing well.

If he’d voiced his concerns to anyone else, he would’ve gotten looks that really solidify the whole “crazy” narrative. You’re perfectly fine on the surface. You’re laughing, giving away more friendship bracelets that line the wrists of his teammates in a steady row and dropping off big white pastry boxes full of cookies and danishes. (“Homemade puff pastry!” He remembers you calling out proudly. “Took me a while to get the hang of it but I don’t think I did too bad!”)

But Tsukishima Kei knows what facades look like. He knows what it’s like to cover up countless feelings and thoughts and words with a blank face and a sarcastic tone. He imagines that using the opposite tactic (one of bright smiles and airy laughs) is somewhat similar. 

He hates to think that he’s the cause of the lack of a crinkle in the corners of your eyes and the scratchy, aching noise of your cello-string-laugh. 

But Tsukishima just does not often know what to say. How to say it. How to categorize the things he feels and send them into funnels where the right words slip out the other end. 

He thinks he’s gotten the first step down pat—he knows he’s attracted to you— (that word is terrible. He pauses and rethinks the terms he can use.) He knows he’s fond of you. Very fond, actually. It’s great that there’s a word for this in his head now. The big issue here, though, is that one word out of five-hundred-thousand is not going to help him figure out how to talk to you. 

So Tsukishima Kei bites. Not like a dog, but like a mosquito. Dogs really only bite when they’re provoked. In truth, he hasn’t been provoked by you—not at all. It’s like he only exists to bite people with no reason and with nothing to provide to society, only leaving pesky, itchy bumps on people’s skin that linger for an annoying amount of time.

The thought is sad. But he thinks it’s accurate. 

He starts off small, like dipping his toes into the water of despondency. His sarcastic remarks sound to start less like sarcasm and more like disdain. It graduates slowly into small insults, ones that sort of slip under the guise of his personality, but he knows that you don’t take it that way. He knows by the way your responses turn into tight-lipped smiles and silent nods. He knows by the way you shift your gaze and furrow your eyebrows and chew the inside of your cheek.

He hates that he knows. He wants to forget about your habits and your voice and your smile and the orchestra of your laughter. The point of this is to forget, he thinks to himself, so why is he still clouded with the faint images of you skipping your feet against the concrete with Shouyo and focusing on the threads between your fingers during lunch as you weave yet another friendship bracelet. 

He watches you do the latter, chopsticks tapping absentmindedly into the content of his bento as he watches you intently. You’re tying off the ends, cutting a shorter thread to make a sliding knot closure. 

The infatuated part of him wonders if you’ll stand up from your table, walk over to his, and hand it to him, slip it around his wrist with glimmering eyes and raised eyebrows and a soft smile. But he’s hoping too much, he realizes as you hand it to Shouyo with a laugh. 

Yamaguchi takes a seat next to the blonde. Tsukishima is aware of his presence but doesn't make a move to glance at him. Yamaguchi sighs. He knows what this is about, and he could say a lot of things to Tsukishima, but thinks his words would be redundant and a simple repetition of Tsukishima’s inner monologue. 

(Tsukishima can handle this, he thinks. It’ll take some time, but he’ll get it eventually.)

You’re reciprocating the distance, the blonde thinks. You’re finally taking his cold remarks personally and pushing yourself away. Tsukishima knows that’s what he intended but the tightening of his lungs and the way his fingers tap rapidly against his desk makes his subconscious reconsider what he’s doing. 

Yamaguchi sighs again. He can’t help it—he thinks the dazed look on his friend’s face is so comically out of character, and he pushes aside his momentary pity to let out a quiet chuckle.

“She’s not just your friend.” He tells Tsukishima. There’s silence at the table for a moment. Tsukishima’s mind whites out for a minute as he tries to understand what Yamaguchi is telling him. 

He hums in response, acting despondent and oblivious. The twitch of his eyebrow gives him away, though. He knows what to do and how to do it, finally—he knows that if he takes enough time to think about it he can finally find the right words to tell you. It’s not the ideal situation to do so, but he guesses he’ll take the chance. 

(He’s strong in his regard until he shows up to school the next day, where a bottle of cold tea and a homemade pastry sits on top of his desk. It’s undeniably you. He feels his eyes start stinging.)

[mikaelsrose]

a great combination of fluff, smut, and angst: NSFW(ish) ABC

pairing: Tyril x human!MC (Selene)

word count: 4600

warnings: NSFW 

an: nsfw alphabet template by this lovely soul with the slightest change

tag list: @brycesgirl @tyrils-star @lxdy-starfury @rysdumortain ​

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)Except for being exhausted, Selene is vulnerable, on full display for Tyril (quite literally), and a bit emotional. That’s actually when Tyril and her have the most personal, heart-to-heart conversations.“I met with Deryth today.”Tyril propped his head on his hand while lying on his side and looked down at his lover, carefully covering her naked body with duvet. His hand then rested on Selene’s hip where his fingers stroked the delicate skin.

Several weeks earlier, during a family dinner, Tyril’s father pointed out that ever since Selene and Tyril came back from Whitetower, he could sense a powerful, ancient energy from her. Adrina immediately agreed and encouraged Selene to meet with Undermount’s walking encyclopaedia/prophet/generally the one with no official title but the go-to lady when there’s any kind of trouble. Although Tyril made no remarks that evening, he agreed with his family. Ever since Selene their battle with the Shadow Court, since she wielded the Blade of Light and was able to open portals, he felt that something... unlocked. Something clicked into place.

“What did she say?”

“A lot of unsettling things, actually,” Selene bit her lip gently and turned to lie on her back. With her eyes set on the dark ceiling, she continued. “But also... nothing concrete. She said she’s been expecting me since I set foot in Undermount because she could feel my magic. She also admitted the same thing your father said.”

Tyril’s hand slowly wandered up her body to eventually rest flat on the blonde’s stomach, his finger outlining a faint scar on her abdomen.

“She confirmed that a war is coming, and I’m going to play a pivotal part in it but this time I might not... make it through.”

The elf’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What ar-“

“But it’s not anything I wouldn’t know for a few weeks now,” she interrupted. “I think... she just confirmed my worries. I could still play dumb when those were just my dreams but now... I don’t know, Tyril. I don’t think I’m strong enough to go through something like this again.”

“We’ll be right by your side, Selene,” he responded immediately, his gaze burning a hole in her face.

“I know, love,” she cupped his cheek in her palm and smiled faintly. “That’s exactly what worries me the most.”

  B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Tyril’s an absolute boobies-guy. The amount of time this man has spent on one-on-one meetings with Selene’s cleavage would make him the greatest warrior in the history had he spent it on trainings. Even (or rather especially) when they’re already going to sleep, his hand finds its way under Selene’s shirt where it rests throughout the night.

As for Selene... she couldn’t have possibly picked her favourite part of him. She adores every. single. body part of this man.

Due to her constant reminders of how much she loves his body and all the differences between the two of them, Tyril’s outlook on himself changed. He didn’t exactly begin to look out for himself when there were blades involved as she asked him, but he did want to look good for her. And himself. But mostly for her, although she started working on improving his way of thinking.

However, she does have a soft spot for his muscular back covered with several very old scars. She loves giving him a proper massage after a long day and placing kisses from one shoulder blade to another. But what she loves the most is watching his back as it’s covered with long deep-blue, purple, half-noon shaped and sometimes bloody marks that her fingernails leave.

 C = Choking (basically an addition to Kink)

“I’m not sure about this, Selene,” he admitted, warring with himself whether to do what do asked and literally choke her or to simply refuse. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me. People do that, and they’re fine,” Tyril raised his brow, looking at her, all flushed, her hair a mess, a few finger-shaped bruises on her hips, and biting her kiss-swollen lips. “I’ve read that in a book.”

“Did you?”      

“Just trust me,” she chuckled, turning to lean against a drawer and swayed her hips invitingly against him, basically impaling herself with his cock for the fifth time this evening.

He still wasn’t sold on this idea but Selene was so sure this would work he was willing to give it a try. However, the second an obscene moan left her lips after a rather hard and smooth thrust, all his inhibitions were forgotten.

Selene guided his hand from her breast to her neck, forcing him to put some pressure there, and he happily obeyed. Selene was like clay in his hands, always happy to fulfil his every wish and always making sure he felt at least as good as her. That night, he wanted to fulfil one of her wishes, however strange it seemed to him.

He pinned her hips to the cold wood with his, fucking her mercilessly as his free hand worked on her bud, leaving her a moaning mess within seconds. Just as his lips busied themselves with her shoulder, guided by her reactions he put some real pressure on her throat, careful not to hurt her.

“This is the last time we are doing this,” he concluded a minute later, holding a panting and somewhat cheery Selene in his arms.

“You’re no fun.”

  D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Tyril would never admit this out loud, especially to Selene, who’s known as one of the biggest gossip in the whole Morella and an even bigger tease, but for a rather short amount of time he was very jealous of Mal (actually, scratch that, he sometime still is), his light approach to life and his relationship with Selene. The way he could joke about everything and tease the hell out of her while Tyril himself was overcome with guilt and anger. When his sole mission was destroying every single piece of the Shadow Court, Mal would still find the strength to raise the group's spirits, cheer up and motivate them. The way he would make Selene laugh.

  E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Oh, Tyril absolutely knows what he’s doing. He often leaves Selene breathless, red, and speechless because he’s that good.

Selene on the other hand... well, she knows a thing or two. She’s a great observer and a quick learner, but she doesn’t exactly have much experience. She happily takes everything Tyril’s willing to show her, though.

“So... I’ve found a book,” Selene stated, blushing a little. Tyril watched her curiously as they sat in a secluded part of the House Starfury’s garden, basking in the early afternoon sun.

“What book?”

Biting her lower lip, Selene began untying her dress, wanting her body to catch as many sun rays as she could until the sunset. She tossed the material aside and rested her head on Tyril’s lap. “Remember the one Mal was so interested in?”

“You mean the one he stole?”

“The one he borrowed,” she chuckled, raising a hand to cover her eyes from the sun. “For an indefinite amount of time.”

“I remember.”

“Well, I found a similar one.”

“Somehow I had a feeling this would happen one day,” the elf concluded, eyeing Selene’s slowly raising chest. “What about it?”

“Oh, please. You know what I mean.”

Of course, he did. But he also so happened to love teasing her.

“We need to work on your communications skills,” he commented, with a barely contained smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she chuckled. “I just thought that we could give it a try. Also, I have a feeling I am really going to enjoy watching you as you read it.”

“I already did.”

“No way,” she grinned and sat up to look at Tyril’s sun-kissed face. “When?”

“I have spent a lot of time in the library and that is all I am going to say on this matter,” Tyril admitted, smirking as his hand rested on the small of her back, his fingers gently stroking the hot skin. “If you are so eager, I believe we can start our little experiment early.”

  F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Against the window. Against the drawer. Against the door if they’re feeling risky. Honestly, even a boulder in the middle of the woods would do if it was big enough to lean Selene against it and fuck her from behind.

 G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous?)

Due to Selene being a massive tease, they usually share a laugh or two during their bedroom playtime. Though there was also that one time...

“I am not ticklish,” Selene assured, sliding her hands up and down his muscular back. Tyril smirked, a devilish plan already forming in his mind, and

“I am afraid I will have to check that.”

“I see you have a death wish, Lord Tyril,” she teased, narrowing her eyes. “And since we both know I’m a much better warrior...”

The elf chuckled and raised his head from between her legs to admire the purple chain of love bites along her stomach. Set on not begging just yet, Selene bit her lower lip and watched her lover delightedly until she realized what he had planned.

“I’m willing to take my chances.”

 H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes?)

Honestly, I find it really hard to believe that the elves grow hair anywhere except for their heads.... I mean, they don’t even grow beards....... Therefore, elf boy is smooth as a baby. Not that Selene minds. Nothing obstructs the view, right?

 I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Tyril knows that one way to make Selene aroused is dancing. She takes full advantage of how incredible a dancer Tyril is. She adores the fact that he’s willing to patiently teach her everything about his culture, which includes dancing.

“I actually practised this one,” Selene admitted, looking deep into the elf’s blue eyes. Tyril’s left hand slipped down just above her butt, pushing her towards him, leaving absolutely no space between their bodies.

“You have?”

“With your father,” she giggled, seeing the shadow of jealousy on her lover’s face. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Colour me surprised and impressed, then,” he smiled. The hand that’s been resting on Tyril’s back moved up to the side of his neck to pull his face closer.

“Since I’ve mastered this dance, I think we can already proceed with our activities,” she whispered against his lips. “I already got a head start.”

“I can see that,” Tyril smirked as he realized the only thing covering Selene’s body was a thin, white nightgown and definitely no underwear.

  J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

The first week without Selene by his side was tough but the second week? On the 9th day, Tyril seriously considered moving to Riverbend forever just so he wouldn’t have to wake up alone ever again. This being said, the vision of seeing her in a few months was... depressing.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you something to remember me by,” Selene smiled flirtatiously, making herself comfortable on his lap. Having freed his left hand of a book, she guided it to her waist and then higher, and higher until it reached his favourite plaything covered with a thin, lacy material.

Seeing that the strained smile fell of her face as she watched him carefully, Tyril sighed quietly. “I know.”

“No,” she protested immediately and brushed a strand of his hair behind his ear, stroking his cheek while doing so. “Quit glooming. This is supposed to be a good memory.”

He didn’t want her to leave. Not now. Not ever. But they’ve had that conversations many times now, and it wasn’t fair to try to change her mind again as she was clearly set on seeing her brother and taking a well-deserved break from Undermount. Not that he would be able to convince her to stay. She’s too damn stubborn.

“It’s our last night together for some time, love,” she whispered. “Take what you need. Remember me like this.”

Tyril’s hand slowly wandered up her thigh, trying to imprint the feeling of her soft skin in his memory. Trying to remember her taste, her scent, everything about her. Because when it came to Selene, he was greedy. He wanted to know everything about this woman, to know her every thought, every worry. He wanted to be the only who knows her taste and makes her make such sounds.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he begged in between kisses as his warm hands explored her body anew.

“I’m yours, Tyril. Always.”

Remembering how hot her skin felt under his palms, those sweet sounds she would make, and the way she called herself his over and over and over again with no hesitation, he would relieve himself to get himself through the day.

  K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Let’s be clear: Selene is the much more extreme one here. She has a choking kink which actually made Tyril consider a lifelong celibacy for a second just so he wouldn’t have to do it to her again. The fact that Tyril is much older also does the trick for her. And much taller.

 L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere. Literally. Except for Tyril’s family’s private chambers, there hasn’t been a surface the two of them hadn’t christened when they were alone.

 M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Tyril would never admit it, but he finds it extremely hot when Selene turns into a sassy/bad-ass/protective mode. He’s caught himself on that the first time after she easily took out one of Imtura’s corrupted pirates. And then when she fought like a maniac with the corrupted Captain, already using magic as easily as she’d been doing that since the day she was born and swinging her sword like it was her hand.

Selene is actually a sucker for some romanticism.

She would usually come home much earlier than Tyril, which had its pros and cons. The good side was that she had time to think, to write to Kade, and to just unwind. One of the biggest cons was the fact that she had to wait many hours into the night waiting for her man after a long day and – let’s just say – she was very excited. She categorically refused to touch herself, therefore, she was sentenced for waiting, wriggling in a chair, doing some stupid breathing exercises.

It was a quarter after midnight when she felt his familiar hands embrace her from behind and his warm lips already leaving wet kisses on her bare shoulder up to her neck.

A gasp, followed by a surprised moan left her lips when Tyril’s lips started leaving red marks on its way and his hand quickly made it inside her panties. Scratch the romanticism. After a whole long day she didn’t actually need it.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Tyril would never do anything to physically hurt her even if she asked – the choking she once asked for was the only thing he agreed to do and he swore to never do it again.

  O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill)

To Selene’s delight, Tyril loves going down on her. For his own pleasure. He’s also become quite fond of getting quick blowjobs in the middle of the day. In the middle of the city. In a fairly secluded area. Or inconspicuous handjobs under the table during parties.  

Selene’s hand was stroking Tyril under the table, as they watched most of the guests dancing around the ballroom.

“Are you sure there’s no room that we could escape to for a minute?” Selene muttered, playfully stroking his tip with her thumb and watching him clench his jaw and take deep breaths.

“If there was such option, we would be there for the last few minutes already.”

She grinned hearing the struggle in his hushed voice and put more pressure on him, motivating him for a bit quicker finale this time as the song was slowly drawing to an end. The elf swallowed hard, watching as she reached for her champagne glass with her free hand. After she’s taken a small sip, she leaned over and kissed the red-cheeked man, drinking his quiet pants off his lips. Selene grinned through their kiss, feeling some wet, sticky substance in her palm.

“It’s a bit hot in here, isn’t it?”

Adrina smiled as she sat across her brother with an elegant elf by her side. Selene smiled back at the beautiful woman and took another sip of her champagne. “It is indeed.”

  P = Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

Unless they’re short on time, they’re slow and sensual. Tyril takes his sweet time making sure not to skip any part of her body, driving her crazy at the same time. He pays special care to Selene’s scars, remembering how insecure they make her feel.

 Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often)

“We have about five minutes before Adrina comes in here,” Selene mumbled and bit her lip to muffle the moans that threatened to leave her mouth. Tyril’s lips worked tirelessly on her neck as his hips slammed into hers.

“That’s plenty of time,” he smirked, pulling her butt towards the edge of a counter he sat her on. Selene wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, making sure he stays right where he is. “Although if you’d like me to stop-“

“Don’t you dare.”

Tyril’s right hand slipped between her legs, his nimble fingers irritating her soft spot expertly, just as his lips caught hers to muffle her moans.

They froze immediately when a soft knocking on the door followed by Adrina’s sweet voice reverberated in the room. Panicked, Selene pushed Tyril and jumped off the furniture, hurriedly smoothing her hair and fixing her dress. Tyril did the same, but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the terrified look on her face.

“Imagine if she opened the door,” Selene whispered, helping Tyril smooth his dishevelled hair.

“We wouldn’t scare her for lifetime, if that’s what you worry about,” he chuckled.

���It’s not her I worry about, it’s me! I could never look her in the face again!”

Tyril snorted and leaned over the balcony door nonchalantly, amusedly observing Selene as she opened the door and greeted his sister.

  R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?)

Not at first, no. However, the farther they are in the relationship, the more Tyril begins to succumb to Selene’s ideas of quickies in public places and trying out some positions from the notorious book.

“It feels wrong, Selene.”

Selene looked up to see his flushed face, and took him out of her mouth for a second.

“Oh, so I can just walk out right now?”

The elf’s Adam apple moved slowly up and down as he swallowed and bit his lower lip. “I’d rather you don’t.”

“Then shut up.”

Tyril’s hand involuntarily slipped down to Selene’s hair, guiding her not-so-gently, and he quickly looked around the secluded library row to make sure they’re still alone.

He gripped the bookshelf with one hand just as he was almost there and glanced down on Selene who watched him intently with her beautiful blue eyes. With his chest heaving and tensed stomach muscles, Tyril grit his teeth not to make any noise when he came.

Selene grinned as she pulled his pants back up and stood up to place a tender kiss to the elf’s under jaw. “One could think you kind of liked it.”

Tyril brushed the loose strands of hair out of her face and stroked her cheek with his knuckles.

“I wouldn’t mind repeating this in the future.”

Chuckling, Selene stood on her tiptoes and kissed her man, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“No bodily fluids exchange in my library, kids.”

  S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Tyril Starfury doesn’t go for rounds. Tyril Starfury goes for proper sessions, no matter the time of the day, although he has a soft spot for the morning shifts.

 T = Timid 

Tyril’s anything but timid. The fact that he was willing to fuck in front of the whole city of Whitetower? Yes, there we go. Over time, he doesn’t even pay much attention to hiding his feelings for Selene from his family. Or the elves of Undermount. *cough* handjobs during parties *cough*

Selene on the other hand learns to be more confident. Tyril quite quickly learned that the teasing is just... a ruse. But with time and endless assurance from her man of his love and devotion, she learns to ask for what she wants.

  U = Unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

Oh, Selene is the greatest teaser. There’s nothing in this world that makes her happier than watching Tyril flush because of her dirty comments, lose his composure, and get boners in the most inappropriate moments.  

She loves to distract him as he’s reading the council’s newest proposals by sitting half naked on his desk, sneakingly squeezing his butt as he’s talking with the heads of other houses during balls, and leaving juicy love bites on his neck before they go out to the town. In this way she gets to hear him moaning before noon, and she marks her territory, letting other women know he’s taken. Two birds, one stone, right?

 V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc)

Tyril makes it his priority to get Selene as loud as humanly possible when they’re alone. Unless they’re in a public place for a stealthy quickie, then he does just enough to make her almost-as-loud-as-possible. He loves seeing her struggling to stay quiet, he loves teasing her like that, fully knowing she would rather chew off her own tongue than to let a moan escape her lips when they’re in public.

However, it cuts both ways, right? Selene is a mistress of drawing incomprehensible moans from her man, especially in the most inappropriate moments – like during dinner in a bar or in a library. Especially in the library, where they’ve earned a few warnings already.

“Selene, I swear, if we get a permanent ban from the librarian, I will send you back to Riverbend.”

“Feisty,” she chuckled, stroking his calf with her foot under the library table. “Do it more often.”

 W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

“I’m starting to think you’re letting me win,” Selene panted, smirking at Tyril whom she had pressed against a wall, with the tip of her blade an inch away from his throat. Tyril raised his hands defiantly, smirking at her.

“I would never do such thing.”

“Then I believe I have surpassed my master.”

Selene lowered the blade slowly and let it fall to the ground when Tyril’s strong arms wrapped tightly around her and picked her up to slam her against the wall. “You did indeed. Therefore, I believe I deserve a consolation prize.”

“We wouldn’t want you to go into pieces, would we?” she chuckled, pulling him close to crash her lips against his. They still had a few alone minutes left and like always they were more than willing to spend it a bit nicer than on pointing blades at each other.

Selene was also more than happy to use the fact that their trainings excited him to her advantage. “Are you certain you want to stay here? Someone will come-”

“Too bad for them, then.”

“I’m really liking this side of you,” she grinned and tangled a hand in his long hair as his lips sucked hard at the skin on her collarbone.

  X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

A solid (and a bit scarred) six-pack and a thick, definitely-above-average package. If it was up the Selene, he would walk around Morella naked.

 “What about this one?” she asked, kissing a long, purplish scar under his ribcage.

“Kaya.”

“It’s been over a year,” her brows furrowed a bit. “It still hasn’t healed?”

“Magic wounds take longer to heal.”

Selene nodded, and watched his face while placing tiny, tender kisses along the scar. “You have quite the collection, I must admit.”

Tyril chuckled.

“This is the last one,” he pointed to a rather deep scar on his left hip. “No distressful story behind this one.”

“For once,” she grinned. “Is this the one Mal gave you?”

“Yes.”

“It’s my favourite one.”

“It better be, I have it because of you,” he smirked, brushing the hair out of her face.

“You have it because you love me, and you wanted to defend my honour. I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“Touche.”

Placing a series of wet kisses down his abdomen, Selene wrapped her hand around him, already hard and waiting for her touch, drawing a surprised gasp from the elf. “Though I believe you deserve some acknowledgement for your courageous defence of my honour.”

 Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Tyril is a young, handsome elf, who happens to be the love interest of many, and have a gorgeous woman by his side. Of course, he’s horny as hell. As much as he’s trying to hide it, Selene knows exactly what and how often he needs, as it happens to be her.

“Not again,” Selene giggled, feeling something hard on her thigh. She slid her thumb over Tyril’s kiss-swollen lips, admiring how soft they are. “I would like to come out of this room eventually.”

“I’m afraid this is not going to happen today,” he chuckled as Selene pushed him to lie on his back and straddled him, taking him all in.

The sun was slowly descending, and they haven’t left their bed ever since they woke up this morning.

Tyril marvelled at how the orange sun kissed her pale skin, how beautiful she looked blush-glazed cheeks, and even at how eager she was to go for another round even though the tiredness was evident on her face.

“Selene, no.”

“Come on,” she sighed as he took his hand away from her neck where she guided it. “We’ve talked about this.”

“And as far as I recall I told you I am not going to do this ever again.”

“Fine.”

  Z = Zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards?)

“I love you.”

A small smile crept up upon Tyril’s lips, and he subconsciously wrapped his arm around Selene’s body. He muttered something back, slowly drifting back to sleep. Knowing Tyril, Selene just assumed it was either “Love you too” or “I know.” A soft smile appeared on her lips as she felt his steady heartbeat on her back. Tyril would usually fall asleep first, hugging her so tight she sometimes had problems breathing.

Once she was certain Tyril had fallen asleep, she turned around to look at his peaceful face and was surprised to see a faint of a sleepy smile in the corners of his lips. “Don’t ever forget that,” she whispered, placing a featherlight kiss between his brows.

[gureishi]

can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland

A day late this week, but here is chapter 3! From now on, expect updates every Sunday :) This chapter is SFW. Again, a reminder: this is a Choi sandwich fic, so please be cautious/skip this one if this pairing isn’t your cup of tea <3 

Pairing: Saeran X Reader X Saeyoung

Rating: E; Chapter rating: T

chapter three

You never got the chance to talk to Saeyoung the next day, because he had, it seemed, stopped speaking to you.

It took a few hours for you to notice. You woke late, having slept restlessly in spite of your exhausted mind. You’d woken too frequently to remember your dreams, but flashes stuck with you: sideways glances and dizzy touches. Saeyoung’s absence wasn’t surprising, at first: you didn’t particularly expect to see him while you made your coffee or sat at the little table by the window sipping it, Saeran working quietly on his laptop beside you. This little morning ritual was usually for just the two of you; in the daytime, it was normal for Saeyoung to be hidden away—in his office, or in the garage, or passed out after staying up till sunrise.

Afterwards, you followed Saeran outside, perching on an overturned bucket to watch him work in the little garden he was starting to plant behind the bunker. You didn’t expect to see Saeyoung out here, either—he was (and there was no better way to put it, you thought) an indoor cat. You rested your face in your hands, watching quietly as Saeran worked. Since moving back into the bunker, he’d made three trips into town already, browsing various plant nurseries, accumulating an assortment of plants and seeds—all things that were low maintenance and hardy, because Saeran would never put something in the ground that would die without constant attention. Not when he wasn’t sure how long you’d be living here.

He was on his hands and knees in the dirt, carefully carving out a little line of earth. You’d seen people garden standing up, using long-handled tools to dig and weed and turn the earth; Saeran never did it that way. He liked to be inside the garden, as close to the plants’ roots as he could be. It was the way he heard their voices best.

“What are those?” you asked, peeking at the seed packet in his hand. He turned to you and—oh, he’s radiant, you thought: his cheeks were sun-warmed, there was dirt on the tip of his nose, and his hair practically glowed in the afternoon sunlight. He was beautiful to you in the morning, half-asleep as you dropped a gentle kiss on his forehead; beautiful to you in the evening, nudging you with his hip as he cut up vegetables beside you in the kitchen; but he was most beautiful like this, you thought: sitting amongst his neat little rows of newly-planted seeds. This was the way you always pictured him in your mind’s eye: a quiet smile, surrounded by greenery.

“They’re gentians,” he said, eyes glowing with pride as he held out the seeds for you to see. “They’re extremely strong. They’ll grow under almost any conditions.”

You peered at the delicate drawing on the packet. They didn’t look hardy to you—in the picture, they looked soft and fragile. But you’d long learned that appearances meant nothing at all about fragility and strength.

“I love them,” you told him. You really did. “I hope we get to see them bloom.”

Saeran shook a few of the seeds into his palm; he pressed them into the earth with extreme care.

“We will, eventually,” he said softly. “If not this year, then in the future.”

You nodded slowly. No one had brought up, yet, what would happen next. For now, you lived here; your poor, overwrought mind couldn’t even fathom thinking more than a few hours ahead.

But the question hung in the air: where will we go?

And there was another question, perhaps more pressing; it came to you, against your will, making your head ache.

And when we do leave here, what about Saeyoung?

“You haven’t seen Saeyoung today, have you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice level. There was no need to worry Saeran unnecessarily; it was possible, you thought, likely even, that he’d been underneath one of his cars all day, entirely unaware of the passage of time. It was possible that the strange feelings that had been slowly coalescing in your body, gradually solidifying into concrete thoughts, were actually baseless, nothing but ephemeral dreams.

Saeran hummed thoughtfully.

“No,” he said; your stomach turned. “No, I haven’t.”

You tapped one leg restlessly, chewing your lip. Saeran peered up at you, the delicate seeds cupped in his palm.

“Did you want to look for him?” he asked, and if there was any suspicion behind that soft smile, it was undetectable. Often, Saeran was wide open for you: emotions laid bare, exposed for your perusal. But occasionally he was inscrutable; his light green eyes, made brighter by the afternoon sun, gave away nothing.

You sighed heavily, knowing there was only one way to assuage the anxiety coiling in your chest.

“I guess I do,” you said. Saeran’s expression was enigmatic. You wondered—and not for the first time—how much he saw, how much he understood.

“Let me know if you find him,” Saeran said. His eyes were on the earth again, his focus impeccable; his nimble fingers worked at the soil, burying his seeds by hand. You took a deep breath, wiping your sweaty hands on your jeans, and turned back to the bunker, which loomed almost prison-like behind you. There was nothing else for it—at the very least, you needed to see him. At best, you needed to ask him…

Ask him…

Ask him what?

You took the steps two at a time; now that you’d decided, you were suddenly impatient. You felt strongly that it would be imprudent to call his name; instead, you kicked off your shoes by the back door, padding down the long hallway. 

Outside, everything was springtime: bright and airy and scented like rose petals. Inside, the air felt stale: there was a constant hum from the fans that cooled the computers, and the temperature was regulated and always just slightly too cold.

He was in none of the common areas, but that was to be expected. His bedroom door was open; hesitantly, you peered inside, but it was dark. The bed looked—just as it had when you’d first found the place—untouched.

At the very end of the hall—as far as possible from the rest of the home, which you supposed he’d done on purpose—was his office. You’d been in here often when Saeyoung had been missing; Saeran had unabashedly gone through files and programs you couldn’t even begin to comprehend, and you’d sat on the hard little couch in the corner, chewing your fingernails and waiting for a miracle.

Since Saeyoung had returned, you’d barely set foot in this room. It felt different, with him here. It felt off-limits.

You knocked on the door.

You knew you’d found him right away: there was the sound of a rolling chair shifting, a few keys clicking. You waited, hand on the doorknob, eyebrows raised. Was he going to ignore you?

“Yeah?” he called, and at the sound of his voice your stomach did a funny little flip. Oh no, you thought. What is happening to me?

“It’s me,” you said, perhaps unnecessarily. Suddenly, your tongue felt too big, like you couldn’t quite remember how you normally fit it in your mouth. Your palms were sweaty.

There was a prolonged pause and a part of you wanted to turn tail and run: run back to the beautiful, warm outdoors, and your beautiful, warm boyfriend in his beautiful, warm garden. You stood firm; hands balled into fists, nails leaving little half-moon shapes in your palms.

“Sorry,” he said finally. There was a different tone to his voice now, neither playful nor teasing nor gentle. He sounded angry. “I’m busy right now.”

“Oh…”

You took a step back. There was no reason to bother him if he was busy, of course; after all, there was nothing in particular you’d needed to say. But something about the way he spoke to you shook you to your core. It was as if you were a stranger.

“I’ll leave you alone, then,” you said. You retreated slowly, not even sure if he’d heard you; when you were halfway down the hall—and you couldn’t explain why you did this—you started to run.

It was only when you were at the back door, stuffing your feet into your shoes with a ferocity that took you somewhat by surprise, that you realized: busy with what?

You turned, reaching for the doorknob—only to come face-to-face with Saeran, who’d just opened the screen door. He took in your odd posture: eyes wide, one shoe on. You must’ve looked so distressed, you thought: frozen in place, full of feelings.

“Are you okay?” he asked, taking your face in one dirt-streaked hand. You didn’t mind—Saeran was earth and rain and wind. He could be soaked and muddy and desolate and you’d still wrap him in your arms.

“I…” you took a steadying breath, not sure how to answer him. Were you okay? His eyes were soft and you felt better, all of a sudden, safer, with his gentle, dirty fingers on your cheek. “Yeah,” you said, somewhat truthfully. “He’s, uh…busy.”

Saeran kissed your cheek, letting his fingers fall from your cheek (you missed them immediately). He slipped off his shoes, lined them up by the door, set his shovel in the little basket of gardening tools. The back of the house was gradually becoming his: neat rows of shoes and organized tools. It was every bit as tidy as Saeyoung’s office was disorderly.

“Busy with what?” he asked. 

Good question, you thought. 

As he slipped past you to the little half-bathroom by the back door, he grazed your waist with one hand—a phantom touch, barely there, but enough to soothe the inexplicable fears that had begun building in that dark hallway, outside Saeyoung’s office door.

“I’m not sure,” you told him—this time, completely truthfully. You followed him, leaning against the doorframe of the small, industrial bathroom, waiting as he scrubbed his hands. In this, like everything, he was meticulous: he got soap between all his fingers, carefully rubbed away every last bit of dirt. Something about the way the steam illuminated his fingers—thin, agile, prominent—enthralled you and made you feel hot and fidgety. 

“I can’t think of anything in particular he’d be working on,” Saeran said thoughtfully. He turned off the water, dried his hands with one of the towels you’d bought on a recent expedition into town. Saeyoung’s house, previously, had had none of these things—no soap dispensers or bath mats or hand towels. If you hadn’t known better, you’d never have thought anyone was living here at all.

“Oh,” said Saeran; and suddenly, he was in front of you again, startlingly close, quick and quiet as ever. His lips curved upward in a playful little smile, and you found your eyes lingering on them—delicate, impossibly pink. “There’s dirt on your cheek.”

Coyly, tongue poking out between those enchanting lips, he leaned in. He brought his thumb to your cheek—warm and a little rough—and something about the way he rubbed your face clean with his fingertip stirred up the mess of emotions swirling inside you.

He seemed focused, intent on his task, but you didn’t miss the pink dusted across his cheeks, the way his breath quickened—also, you were pretty sure there was no more dirt on your face. Almost cheek-to-cheek with you, he shifted his gaze; you were hit all at once by the full force of those intense green eyes and you felt your knees go weak.

“Saeran.”

Oh, he was baiting you—he held two fingers to your cheek, waiting for your next move.

And it all whirled together in a delicious, complicated, colorful mess in your mind: Saeran’s rough finger and the dirt on your cheek and the careful way he washed his hands and Saeyoung’s angry voice and the warm sun and the cold air in the hall and the way Saeyoung’s eyelashes would have felt against your face if you’d just leaned in a little closer last night and Saeran’s cool body against yours in bed. And then your mind went blank.

Roughly, clumsily, you threw your arms around Saeran’s neck and kissed him, pulling his body flush against yours with a force that took you both by surprise. You parted your lips, panting into his mouth, and his lithe tongue swiped across your bottom lip. You deepened the kiss, molding yourself to him; you felt lightheaded and, somehow, sure that his lips were the only thing tying you down to the earth.

As if sensing this, his hands came to your waist, steadying you; at the same time, you felt his fingers digging in, gripping a little too hard. Experimentally, you pressed against him , wiggling your hips; without breaking the kiss, he growled, low in his throat, and you felt victorious. Yes, he needed you.

Suddenly, you were moving; he’d broken the kiss and was staring down at you, eyes searing, and then he was walking you back, back, till you were pressed up against the doorframe. It was study behind you, supporting you; he brushed his lips, feather light, against your jaw, and your legs went numb.

And then his lips were on yours again, sugary sweet, and you were grabbing at his shirt, bunching it in your fingers. He pressed you harder into the doorframe, kissing you with the hunger of the lost, lonely boy that still lived inside him.

Your head was full of him; his hand drifted to your hip, to your thigh, and you pushed back against him, making him gasp; he pulled back and his eyes were begging you to touch him more and—

and—

—and there was a sound in the distance—a cough, a breath—that startled you out of the trance where everything was Saeran and Saeran’s hands and Saeran’s lips. Slowly, hands on his chest, you turned toward the sound. 

Oh.

Saeyoung was there: frozen in place at the far end of the hall, one hand still on the doorknob to his office. The world narrowed, in that moment, to just three things: you felt Saeran’s hands, one gripping your waist, one positioned dangerously on your inner thigh; you felt the hard wood frame against your back; and you saw Saeyoung’s face, eyes wide, wild, mouth slightly open. He was pale, like he’s just seen a ghost.

But he hadn’t seen a ghost. He’d seen this; and you only realized, then, just how it must look: Saeran’s hand on your thigh, parting your legs; your faces: pink cheeks, bright eyes.

You couldn’t quite put the expression you saw on Saeyoung’s face into words. Afraid, you thought. Exhilarated. Surprised. Needy. Miserable.

“Saeyoung…”

You dropped your hands; Saeran shifted beside you—and Saeyoung was gone. With the swiftness you were still not quite used to, he disappeared around the corner. You heard the door to the garage slamming: open and shut.

For a moment, neither you nor Saeran said anything. You could feel his eyes on your face, and you turned to him. He licked his lips, coughed softly. You put a hand to his face—it was hot.

“Are you okay?” you asked, always sensitive to his subtle shifts in temperature, always searching—perhaps needlessly—for any sign that he was feeling sick. A part of your heart still didn’t believe that he would tell you.

“I am,” he said, a hand on his chest. He was peering down the darkened hallway now as if the phantom of his brother was still standing there and would tell him what on earth was going on. “I’m not sure what just…” He trailed off. You took his hand: hot face, cool hands, as always.

“I think I should…go after him,” you said. You felt such a strange mixture of dread and longing.

Saeran nodded slowly. “You understand him better than I do,” he said.

You squeezed his hand. “There are things the two of you understand that I never will,” you told him. You weren’t talking about computers are programming languages—there were other things, subtle, vulnerable, frightening things, that only the two of them knew. Saeran pressed his lips to your forehead, just beside your eyebrow. “But I think, in this case…”

“Exactly.” There was a moment, then, when his green eyes flashed and you could see the pieces falling together in his brilliant mind. Then he turned from you and the moment passed.

Pressing a swift kiss to his cheek, you left him, making your way down the long hall. You pried open the door—you hadn’t heard a car engine, so Saeyoung was still somewhere in the garage. You tiptoed outside, though your feet still sounded so loud on the cold, concrete floor. You didn’t want to startle him.

Not that I could sneak up on him even if I tried.

He wasn’t hard to find: he was leaning against the hood of one of his cars, a strange little silver one, and his face was in his hands. You supposed he felt safe here, the way Saeran did in his garden. They were so similar in this way, you thought—retreating to the places that made them comfortable when the people around them made them afraid.

“Saeyoung,” you said softly. He didn’t move; of course he already knew you were there. “I…”

You what?

Now that you had him here, in front of you, you found you had nothing at all to say. And you were good with your words—your words had gotten you here, in the first place, to this magical reality where, against all odds, the people you loved were safe.

And yet…

Here, in the cold, musty-smelling garage, with Saeyoung in front of you—still, silent, face hidden—you had no words at all.

“Go back inside,” he said, sounding as though he had armed himself against you—you heard a battalion in his voice.

“I want to talk to you,” you said. This much you knew was true.

“But I don’t want to talk to you,” he answered. He dropped his hands from his face then; his glasses were pushed haphazardly up on top of his head. Without them, his eyes blazed—the anger you saw there frightened you.

But you’d been here before, borne the brunt of the unfounded anger of someone you cared about. Then, too, it was because he was so tormented by the way you made him feel.

You took a careful step toward Saeyoung; he bristled and you almost expected him to growl, warding you away like a wild animal.

“Saeyoung, please…” His shoulders were hunched; there were shadows under his eyes, more evident without his glasses. You wondered if his dreams had been like yours: frantic, yearning.

For a moment, you thought you had him—his eyes softened a little as you drew near; he leaned forward, almost as though he hoped you would hold him. Oh, but you wanted to.

You paused. He paused. A moment passed where you were certain that you could reach for him and he would let you, would fall into your arms and melt with you. And then the moment was gone.

Saeyoung crossed his arms; all the light left his eyes.

“I don’t think I should stay here,” he said.

“What?”

“I’m going to leave,” he repeated, sounding almost surprised, as though he was deciding it in that very moment. You felt that he was opening up your chest with those long fingers, reaching inside and taking hold of your heart.

“You can’t,” you said, too loud, and he glanced up at you, his eyes hard. You wanted to take that stupid, warm, hard, beautiful face in both your hands and…

And what?

And kiss him till he was breathless, till his eyes clouded over and he forgot who he was.

That stubborn little voice in your head, loud and almost corporeal now, cheered. But your heart was falling to pieces.

“I thought I would be able to do it,” he said—quieter, as if he wasn’t quite sure he wanted you to hear. “Living here with you. But I was wrong.”

“I…” You couldn’t find the right words. I thought I would be able to do it, he’d said—so he’d known, all along, that it would be difficult for him. You clenched your hands, squeezing them together till they hurt—an old habit.

And then he was moving, taking advantage of your moment of weakness. He was opening the car door, sliding in. His expression was unreadable. He started the engine.

“Where are you…”

“I’m just going for a drive,” he said. Cold voice, cold eyes.

“You’ll be back, right?” you said. Your hands hurt.

He paused and you were afraid he was going to say no, never, but instead he pulled out his phone, used it to open the garage door. He was backing out already, one arm thrown over the passenger seat (how you wished you were that stupid little leather seat), when he finally answered you.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll be back. But…” But. “But I’ll leave for real, as soon as I can.”

The engine hummed softly and he was pulling down the driveway, looking anywhere but at your face. And he was driving away, fading away, and you said his name but he didn’t hear, or pretended not to. He was drifting, turning…gone.

He was gone.

Your legs were weak. Your heart was weak.

You let yourself sink to the ground, tucking your knees to your chest, sitting on the cold concrete.

And, alone in the big, empty garage, your mind formed the meaningless shapes and colors and sounds and fears into a concrete thought. At last. As though you’d known all along.

I love him, you thought, feeling so small here in the dark, surrounded by his cars and his tools and his scent and the memory of his cold, sad eyes. I love him, don’t I?

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

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[skylarmoon71]

Raphael x Parker Reader- Chapter 5 (TMNT 2014/2016)

“Freak.”

“It’s your fault he’s dead.”

“He’s probably better off dead. “

You huffed, leaning on the concrete building of the alleyway.

You were a coward, even with what you were capable of, you weren’t even able to stand up for yourself. This, all of it really was your fault. If you’d stopped that guy that day, Uncle Ben would still be alive. You spun around, punching the wall, the brick crumbling under your hands. With a yell, you gave another punch. You were sure how many hits you’d delivered, or how long you’d been doing it. You stopped when you started to feel the numbness in your now bloodied knuckles.

You whimpered, sliding down the wall defeatedly as you cried. Hugging your knees, you stayed there. The build of all your hate, anger, pain, you just let it out. The entire time you were trying, fighting to ignore the problem instead of dealing with it.

“Tell me what to do, please...just tell me…”

“We’re all trying to do our best, kid.” your eyes lifted at the voice. The apartment above you had a window, and the older man leaning out there was looking down at you. He tipped his shades at you.

“How..how long have you been there.” He smiled at you.

“A while. “

He saw all of that. Great. He probably thought you were some kind of psycho.

“You lost someone.”

You just lower your head. Keeping it in is what has got you in the mess that you were in, so maybe it was time to talk about it. You unfolded your arms, dropping your legs flat on the floor.

“I-I lost my uncle. He was shot.” you spoke softly.

“Lost my wife two years ago.” despite the information he’d just given you, he was still wearing the brightest smile. “She was the love of my life, always said we’d leave together.” his finger ran over the golden ban thoughtfully.

“I miss her everyday. “

“Does it...ever become easier?” He’d been dealing with his loss for two years, and he still managed to smile. It had been a little over two months, and you were barely keeping it together.

“I can’t promise you that you’ll ever stop feeling it, that little hole in your chest like something’s missing. What I can say is trying to deal with it alone, it just makes that hole a hell of a lot bigger.

You're still young kid, when you get to my age you realize that you’re gonna gain amazing people in this life, and you’ll lose a few of them. Doesn’t mean you stop loving. You push forward, because that’s what they would want. “

With a soft sigh, you lean your head on the concrete.

“You think they’re watching us right now?” you mutter.

“Absolutely. My Chloe would probably be badgering me to take my meds right about now. “ You chuckle. “You should get to it then.” you encourage with a smile. He nods with a huff of laughter.

“Don’t go getting cocky, I’m still your elder kid.” raising your head, you stood slowly from your spot. Now at full height, you offered an appreciative smile. “Thank you, really. “ He just waves it off. “Come on, don't mention it, anytime. Next time though you should put on some gloves. You’re Aunt is gonna freak out when she sees that.

He wasn’t wrong.

“I think I can make up a believable story.” you shrug. The male above lets out another laugh.

“Good luck with that kid.” He’s heading back inside now, and you’re not sure how to express your current feeling. Your body feels weightless and it has nothing to do with the recent discovery of your powers. No, it’s more like the emotional strain you’ve been carrying around has somewhat dissipated.

Your new journey is clear. An apology is in order, starting with Aunt May.

~~~~~~

The sound of hurried footsteps is the first thing that catches you ears the moment you close the front door.

“(Y/N)!” Her body all but crashes into you, and you welcome it, sinking into the embrace.

“When the principal called about the incident I was so worried. Why didn’t you tell me that terrible girl was bullying you. With what happened at that editor's office and now this. I was so scared that you’d run off and...and..” you have an idea of where her thoughts went, and it’s completely your fault for making her feel like you couldn’t share your pain with her. “I’m sorry.” you speak. It’s muffled into her clothing, but you know she hears you.

“I’m..so sorry a-about everything..” you convey.

“Honey…”

You finally allow yourself to break down in front of her, knees buckling. She slides to the floor in surprise, and when she pulls back, she can clearly see the tears rushing down your cheeks.

“I miss him so much.” you sob. You can see the way her eyes well up, and she pulls you back in. “There’s nothing wrong with admitting that you’re in pain. I miss him too, every single day.” May has been suffering just as much as you, probably more. All you can do is hold on, and cry. You were so consumed in your own self loathing, that you ignored that you weren’t the only one in pain.

“It’s okay, we’re both going to be okay (Y/N).”

For the first time in weeks, you believed those words.