#and i’ve never had the motivation to finish it entirely..

[bananacat76]

i never finished this and i don’t think i will so i might as well share it

they all bestays..

[rowanisawriter]

patrochilles / fairy tale AU / complete (40k words)

There is a curse. A destiny, as his mother loves to remind him. A war. An unknown future, somewhere out there in the fighting and killing. But here, there is only the sun and the grass and Achilles’s swift feet. Here, there is Patroclus sitting in the shade. Here, Achilles pulls him closer and puts his arms around him, staining their clothes with charcoal dust from sketched out dreams. Patroclus sinks into him heavily. The sound of their breathing is the only thing they can hear, as though the clearing—their clearing— is a shield hiding them from the rest of the world. “Take me with you,” Patroclus tells him at the same time that Achilles says, “Please come with me.”

In the tiny kingdom of Phthia, a golden prince is cursed with invulnerability except for a vulnerable heel. An exile apprenticed to a shoemaker is commissioned by the palace to create a shoe the prince can fight in.

A fairy tale about a curse, a magical shoe, a war, a doomed hero, an exile, destiny, and love despite everything.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Moving In ~ MYG

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

PAIRING: Yoongi x Fem!Reader

GENRE: established relationships, yoongi trying to make himself known in her apartment, making space for each other, cute, fluffy,

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - July 2023

⤜MASTERLIST

When things of Yoongi's started to appear around your apartment you thought nothing of it, that maybe he'd just forgotten a couple of his things and that he would just come and get them the next time he spent the night. But as time went on and the more your relationship with each other developed you began to notice that more things were being left behind in your apartment. It started with a couple pairs of his boxers that he'd left on the weekend and then it slowly escalated into hoodies and t-shirts that you would find in your room after he left.

Not that you ever had a problem with any of it, you got to keep your boyfriend's clothes at your place and have the smell of him around but as time grew on you began to notice the ulterior motive behind his actions and the thought alone was enough to make you smirk about it all. Yoongi and yourself had been in a relationship for almost four years and the two of you hadn't moved in together yet since you'd both been so busy with your own careers you'd never found the time to ask one another or even to just move in. The last few weeks were the final penny-dropping for you though, last weekend when Yoongi had stayed over he'd been dropping hints that his lease was coming to an end and he didn't know what he was going to do. He was struggling to decide whether or not to move into a "new place" or to renew his lease with his current landlord. It didn't take a genius to work out what he was really hinting at with that line of conversation but you'd played dumb and told him that it was all down to him. Though as soon as he'd gone home on the Sunday night you'd already started to make room for him in your place, clearing out some of your wardrobe as well as some of the drawers that you had. You'd put a bunch of stuff into storage and then begin to make more room around the apartment for his other items until you were finally happy enough with how it was looking.

"I've got a surprise," You told Yoongi as he finished eating the meal you'd cooked for the two of you tonight. It was Friday night which meant whenever he finished work he would come over and get ready to spend the entire weekend with you, just the two of you with little to no distractions getting in the way.

"You do? More of a surprise than cooking me my favourite meal?" He rubbed his stomach a little, feeling completely full from what you'd done for him and a little spoiled he was honest. He'd never expected to come to yours after both of you had a long day at work and you have cooked his favourite meal. Come to think of it, most of the night his favourite things had been happening.

Not only had you cooked his favourite meal but you'd had his favourite album playing in the background while you ate, you were wearing his favourite outfit and your hair was even styled the way he adored it on you. It was all starting to make him blush as he thought more about it, you'd done all of this for him and he was beginning to worry he'd missed an anniversary or something. 

"Did I forget our anniversary?" His voice cracked a little making you giggle as you slowly got up from the dining table and shook your head at him. Your anniversary wasn't for another four months yet so he had nothing to worry about on that aspect. You just hoped he was going to enjoy this kind of surprise and that you weren't reading the signs wrong,

"No, baby, you're fine." You promised him before taking his hand in yours and slowly pulling him through the double doors and toward your staircase his eyes on yours as you walked backwards. You knew your home like the back of your hand and you knew how to get around even if you were blindfolded but that didn't stop Yoongi from watching everything behind you to make sure you weren't going to trip or bump into anything.

"Did you paint your room?" He chuckled trying to take a guess on what it was you could have to surprise him with. You smirked at him as you reached the bedroom door, pausing as you stared at him and held your hand on the door handle. 

"No, but we can if you want to." You suggested, before slowly turning the door knob and opening it up. Yoongi stared around the room in silence for a couple of seconds before frowning, nothing looked different.

"I'm not sure what's different-" He tried to speak but you smirked, you knew he would never be able to guess from just looking inside the bedroom so you let go of his hand and made your way toward your closet.

"Here," You giggled opening the wardrobe doors for him to take a look inside, his heart thumping when he saw there was no room for his stuff with clothes he'd already left behind hanging up.

"I made space for you, you're not as sneaky as you think you are." You winked at him, his cheeks starting to turn bright red as his whole body burnt up. You'd realised what he was doing?

"Yn-" He bit down on his lip as he realised you'd caught onto what he'd been hinting at for a few weeks now and he didn't know whether to laugh or cry about it.

"I also made room in the bathroom and in the kitchen cabinets..." You looked at him, hoping he knew where you were going with this but he was already blushing and staring at you. He didn't want to assume that you were asking him to move in, he wanted to hear the words come straight from your mouth.

"Min Yoongi, will you officially move in with me?" You questioned, your eyes finding his as he suddenly wrapped his arms around your midsection and pulled you into a tight embrace.

"I would be honoured Yn," He whined before kissing you deeply, your hands falling into his black hair as you pulled him closer to you. Your heart racing against your chest as you held onto him, it was the first time you'd have been moving in with someone and it was safe to say you were nervous but excited about it all at the same time.

"So I wasn't slick then?" He questioned as you pulled away from one another, his clothes hanging in the wardrobe with plenty of space for more of his stuff in the future.

"Not at all. I caught on as soon as you started leaving more and more around here." You giggled, your body flaming as he stared at you and whined a little.

"Once you've moved in we can decide on changing things up. If you want to." You suggested for him, his arms wrapping around your waist as he walked you toward the bed gently laying you down before he began peppering you with kisses. Your arms wrapped around the back of his neck and pulled him closer to you as you made out softly on your - now shared - bed.

Tagline: @chiisaiblog @rjsmochii @tinyoonsblog @sw33tnight @taestannie @cherrybubblesandvodka @acciocriativity @mitzwinchester @heyjiminnie @halesandy @jin-from-the-block @aerastus @namjooningelsewhere @psychosupernatural​ @lyoongx​ @royallyjjk​ @critssq​ @lenfilms​ @btsiguess-kpop​ @meowmeowisdaname​ @imafivestarkpopstan​ @laylasbunbunny​ @ratherbfangirling​

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Head Over Heels - Pete Mitchell x Reader

A/N: I've watched the OG so many times over the last month I felt inspired to write a little 1980s set piece for baby Mav. It's roughly set in 1983 (obvs. I wasn't born yet so I'm going purely off my obsession with 80s shit bare with me ok).

pairing: Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x reader

warnings/content: fluff, set in the 1980s, Maverick hits on you in a bar while you're working, brief mention of Goose & Carole if you squint.

word count: 2.2k

“You're a rich girl, and you've gone too far, ‘cause you know it don't matter anyway…”

The sounds of Hall and Oates’ Rich Girl rang out from the jukebox that sat opposite from the bar, a few off-key voices attempting to sing the words in slurred tones, incoherent to anyone other than themselves. It was a typical Friday night, with a few people seated on the red vinyl booths that encircled the bar counter, empty beer glasses in front of them as they waited anxiously for a top up. 

You didn’t love your job here - you only did it to put yourself through school, and even then, it wasn’t as though you needed to - your parents had offered you financial assistance on more than one occasion, almost scandalized at the thought of their precious daughter working in a dive bar on weekends to put herself through college, but you were determined. You wanted to earn this degree on your own merit, without your parents holding the loan of a few thousand dollars over your head and without the feeling that you were some spoiled little rich kid that others should despise or envy. 

As you wiped a table clean in the far corner of the bar, you took note of two young men in bomber jackets coming through the entrance. The shorter of the two, a dark-haired man with intriguing eyes - were they hazel, blue or green? It was nearly impossible to tell. - laughed as he looked back to his friend, a tall blonde haired man with a mustache, who looked incredibly unimpressed about the choice of bar that his buddy had. You couldn’t say you blamed him - the food was decent, but that was about it. You weren’t exactly known for being the Ritz Carlton of dive bars. 

The two men sidled up to a booth, and you sighed to yourself, knowing that it meant they’d become your responsibility, whether they were aware of that fact or not. You finished cleaning the table off and retreated behind the bar to find two menus - not that they seemed like the type who were here for food - you knew the younger men that came in usually only came for one thing, cheap beer. You approached their table, plastering your customer service smile on your face as you sauntered over. You handed them each a menu and greeted them with your normally joyful voice, and you couldn’t help but feel like you came off as someone deranged for being so cheerful. 

“Hi! What can I get you both?”

“I’ll have whatever’s on tap, thanks,” the blonde replied with a polite head nod towards you. 

The brunette started eyeing you up, a grin plastered on his face as he took in the sight of you. Your outfit was hardly anything worth looking at, you thought to yourself. Fitted high-waisted jeans and a t-shirt with the restaurant’s logo emblazoned on the back, the baggier fitting shirt tucked into your jeans to accentuate the fact that, despite how the t-shirt might come off, you did in fact have hips. His grin was playful - not the kind you were used to from men who saw you at work. He didn’t give you the impression he was only interested in taking you to bed with him, although you weren’t entirely convinced that wasn’t his motive. His hazel eyes lit up as he looked at you, his thousand-watt grin almost distracting.

“What do you recommend? I’ve never been here before.” He charmed, still smiling up at you.

“Well, our wings are pretty popular, I personally like them dressed in Kansas City sauce, it’s a bit spicier but it’s not too overpowering, and for a drink, I usually go for a rye and coke, but if you’re more of a beer guy, I recommend pairing it with a Budweiser. You can never go wrong there.”

“Perfect, I’ll have that, please. With a side of coleslaw.”

“Alright, two beers, an order of KC wings and a side of coleslaw? You got it.”

You disappeared behind the counter with their order and returned a few moments later with their drinks in hand. The brunette was leaning in towards his friend, whispering in a hushed tone that you could barely make out, but it was evident that your presence wasn’t known. You set the drinks down on the table and both men sat straighter in their seats. The blonde one looked at you with a charming smile, the kind you’d give a teacher who’d walked in on you doing something you weren’t supposed to at school. He cleared his throat and laughed slightly as he took a sip of his drink before setting the glass down on the cardboard coaster you’d brought over. 

“I’m so sorry, but my friend here, he’s a little shy. He thinks you’re really pretty though. Not that I don’t, I’m just engaged.” The blonde babbled, seemingly nervous, as if he was afraid you’d throw his drink over him. 

“Does he? Why doesn’t he tell me so himself?” You teased, looking over to the brunette, who was now blushing and grinning like an absolute idiot - the most attractive idiot you’d ever seen.

“He is afraid of women. Sort of, anyways. I never say the right thing.” He explained matter of factly. 

His eyes squinted to read the name tag on your shirt, saying it slowly to make sure he was pronouncing it correctly before giving you another smile. “Beautiful name,” he added. 

“Well, now this seems unfair - you know my name but I don’t know yours.”

“Right! Right. I’m Maverick. This here’s my buddy, Goose.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, Navy callsigns. I’m Pete. He’s Nick.”

“Goose is fine,” the blonde interjected, shaking his head as he held up a hand to stop Pete from talking further, “Only my mom calls me Nick. And usually it’s if I’m in shit for something.”

“Nice to meet you, Pete. Goose.” 

You politely excused yourself from the table with a laugh before continuing with your other duties that night - waiting the few surrounding tables with  patrons, cleaning and restocking napkins and cutlery around the bar. You noticed at one point that Pete had approached the jukebox. He flipped through the available songs, selecting one seemingly at random, bringing Vacation by The Go-Gos to an abrupt end as his choice of song began playing. The opening bars of Making Love Out of Nothing At All by Air Supply began to fill the room, and Pete gave you a beaming grin as he retreated back to his seat. He began singing along to song with Goose, the two carrying on in an off-key harmonic ensemble that, admittedly, had you fighting the urge to sing along. 

As you approached the table once more, a playful smirk gracing your lips at Pete's rendition of the song, you couldn't deny the infectious energy he exuded. His performance, though not flawless, carried a certain charm that captivated your attention. As you deftly cleared away their empty dishes, Pete's gaze met yours once again, but this time with a smile that held a hint of mischief, a smile that could easily disarm even the most composed.

"Are you finishing up soon?" His voice was casual, but there was an underlying eagerness in his tone. Checking his watch briefly before locking eyes with you again, he continued, "I don’t have to be back on base until tomorrow morning. I was wondering if maybe you’d like to do something after work."

You couldn't help but grin at his forwardness, though you made a show of feigning reluctance. "I don’t accept dates from guys who ask me out at my workplace," you teased, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

Pete's response was quick, his charm effortlessly slipping through the cracks of your defenses. "Ok, that’s understandable. What time are you off work?"

"In ten minutes," you replied, a mixture of amusement and surprise coloring your tone as you realized the clever loophole he had found in your earlier rejection.

"Perfect. I’ll meet you outside in ten."

True to his word, ten minutes later found you standing outside, Goose offering a polite wave as he departed. Pete's smile was infectious as he approached you, his demeanor exuding a newfound confidence. He gestured towards you, his grin widening as he spoke.

"You said no because I asked you out inside, but now?"

A playful glint danced in your eyes as you played along. "Now, I suppose I can say yes. You’re no longer a creepy guy asking me out at work."

"Exactly, now I’m a creepy guy asking you out outside of your work. Much better," he quipped, a chuckle escaping him as he extended his arm towards you.

You couldn't help but laugh at his remark, the tension between you dissipating as you fell into an easy banter. As he introduced himself, the warmth in his voice was palpable, and you found yourself drawn in despite your initial reservations.

Pete shook his head, a self-amused chuckle escaping him before he gallantly extended his arm towards you. His cheeks took on a charming shade of pink, adding a subtle glow to his already handsome features. It was then that the disparity in height between the two of you became apparent, your gaze meeting his from a slightly elevated position. A grin played at his lips as he ran a hand through his dark locks, his eyes squinting ever so slightly as he regarded you with a mix of earnestness and intrigue.

"Sorry, I’m relatively new to this," he confessed with a sheepish grin. "My success rate’s not the highest unless I’m in uniform, and even then."

"Uniform?" you echoed, curiosity lacing your tone.

Straightening up, Pete cleared his throat before executing a mock salute with a touch of playful flair. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Peter Mitchell, United States Naval Air Force, currently stationed over at North Island, just across the bay," he announced with a subtle gesture toward the distant island.

"Peter, huh?"

A smirk tugged at his lips. "Did you think my parents just put Pete on the birth certificate and called it a day?"

"Actually," you quipped back, "earlier before you clarified, I thought they put Maverick on there and called it a day - Pete didn’t seem like too far of a stretch."

"I suppose you’re right," he conceded with a grin. "I don’t think I’ve been called by my full name since school, and even then, it was back when Peter from The Brady Bunch was still cool. I liked it then, all the girls liked him anyways."

"I was more of a Greg girl, actually," you teased, raising an eyebrow in playful defiance as you pretended to inspect your manicure.

"Of course you were," he chuckled, his tone teasing yet affectionate. "You’re one of the first girls I’ve met to not care about the military thing. Most girls are all over that."

"It’s impressive, don’t get me wrong," you interjected with a shrug. "I’ve just dated military guys before."

"Have you?" Pete's interest was piqued, his gaze locked onto yours with a newfound curiosity.

"Well, one," you admitted. "My first boyfriend when I moved down to San Diego from Oakland."

"You’re from Oakland?! I’m from San Francisco!"

"Small world, isn't it?" Pete's eyes lit up with a spark of excitement, a genuine smile gracing his lips as he realized the unexpected connection between your hometowns. "I guess that makes us Bay Area neighbors, in a sense."

You couldn't help but return his smile, feeling a sense of warmth in the shared familiarity of your origins. "Seems like it," you agreed, the playful banter easing any remaining tension between you.

As the conversation flowed effortlessly between you, a comfortable silence settled, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the bustling pier. In that moment, standing on the threshold of possibility, you couldn't ignore the magnetic pull drawing you closer to Pete.

"So," he began, breaking the silence with a gentle tone, "any chance I could persuade you to show a newcomer around San Diego? I'm afraid my knowledge of the city is limited to the base and a few local hotspots."

The invitation hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications. With a playful glint in your eyes, you considered his request, allowing yourself to entertain the idea of exploring the city with him.

"I suppose I could be persuaded," you teased, a coy smile playing at the corners of your lips. "But only if you promise to keep up with this newfound charm of yours, Lieutenant Mitchell."

Pete's laughter echoed against the backdrop of the bay, his eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. "Consider it a deal, Miss Oakland," he replied, extending his arm once more in a silent invitation to embark on this newfound adventure together.

As you linked your arm with his, a sense of anticipation tingled in the air, the promise of new beginnings lingering on the horizon. With each step forward, you couldn't help but wonder where this unexpected encounter would lead, but one thing was certain: with Pete by your side, the journey promised to be anything but ordinary.

[soralymystaken]

I think a lot about Lloyd and Harumi, solely because they have one of the most unique yet complex relationship dynamics in all of Ninjago, and it’s something I don’t feel like we talk about enough.

So often I see online that their dynamic is overly simplified. I so often see people arguing between them being “true-love” or “friends to lovers to enemies,” but stating it’s just one of those is overlooking all of the complexities. Even stating it as a one-sided thing from Lloyd isn’t looking at the whole picture. Of course, there can be many interpretations of how they interact. Again, that’s the reason I adore this dynamic so much. This, however, is my personal interpretation:

Also, warning, spoilers plus some swearing.

At the beginning, we see Lloyd have the whole “love-at-first-sight” trope, and we learn that Harumi invited him into the castle. While, of course this immediately is seemed as a positive interaction, later events reveal otherwise. It continues like this: Lloyd falls deeper in love with Harumi whilst she continues manipulating him to keep him on strings. She eventually realizes his feelings, and wants plays on that, making the process work exponentially better. Finally, we learn Harumi’s motives and her reasoning, and, in the episode, Lloyd is devastated. However, I have some additions on this, but I’m gonna finish up my review of canon before getting to that. We do also know that Lloyd still has feelings, though. We primarily see thing from Lloyd still trying to save her from Garmadon’s grasp along with his sadness from her death.

The next time we see her and Lloyd’s dynamic (at least as far as I want to mention,) is Crystalized. When Lloyd is captured, he apologizes. He still clearly has feelings for Harumi, and, in a turn of events, it seems that Harumi does as well, as she convinces the Overlord to spare him and to try to get him on their side.

Okay, enough about prior knowledge, lets discuss headcanons. So, firstly, I’m 100% sure that Lloyd was tormented by Harumi’s origin story. We know how high of a standard he holds himself to, and we also know how morally-driven he is. Him learning about the real stories of the real people who he had really hurt couldn���t have been taken easily. I’ve actually written a whole fic that revolves on that fact, and how Lloyd’s lingering feelings would have amplified that feeling to oblivion. Also, for people who assume he would immediately drop his feelings when he learned Harumi’s true motives, literally just look at how he talks about Garmadon and you’ll see he can’t exactly move on that easily. Things like this take time, and, again, he has guilt because of this whole thing. Moving on from a relationship when you believe you were the reason the person tried to destroy the entire world and subsequently died isn’t the same as a high school breakup. That’s fucking devastating, and especially for someone who hasn’t had the best relationships up to that point.

However, this dynamic really starts to become cloudy when you look at Harumi. Now, look: I’m like 90% sure she only had feelings for Lloyd in S15 as fan-service, but, fan-service or not, it’s canon, and therefore I’m still gonna cover it.

So, first off, when and how did Harumi develop feelings? Personally, I think there could be three main reasons. For one, gaslighting. The whole time, she was gaslighting Lloyd into loving her. Sometimes, when you keep up a lie like that for so long and with that level of commitment, you can convince even yourself of these feelings. Do I think this is the case for Harumi? Well, it depends. If you truly do believe there is a spark between them, then no. However, if you really don’t like the fact that they were given a romantic storyline in S15, then this is a totally valid reasoning.

The second reason that comes to mind is Lloyd’s persistence. Now, just to cover all our basis, reminder that “being persistent” and “never giving up on a love that could be” are not cutesy tropes and relationship goals, and no means no. I see too much stuff online saying shit like “I never gave up on her and, even though she said no 20 times, she gave in in the end.” This is not something to romanticize. If someone rejects you, fucking respect that and move tf on. That being said, though, I think that could actually be the case in this dynamic, albeit in a much less creepy way than some fuckers online do it. Lloyd clearly, even after all of the shit Harumi pulled, still has lingering feelings: a mix of platonic and romantic. I truly believe Lloyd is someone who believes that anyone can change for the better, and applies this to Harumi. The fact that, even after all the pain Harumi caused, he still searched for her in the rubble could be the reason she developed feelings. In my opinion, this is the most likely option.

The final one is a bit colder, and is for y’all who believe Harumi is evil through-and-through. Lloyd is fucking overpowered. Harumi’s reasoning to the Overlord could be just that: the reason. I personally don’t love this one as much, but if this is something you resonate with, I would totally understand why.

All of these factors strung together make Lloyd and Harumi one of my favorite dynamics. There is so much more that I didn’t even discuss here. Is it romantic or platonic or just romantic for one of them? Did Harumi develop feelings even sooner yet denied them solely because of her hatred? Is Lloyd’s relationship with Harumi less to do with Harumi herself and more-so to do with trying to rebuild a relationship with his father through her to prove he can hold onto someone he loves? All of these are questions I’d love to dive into but simply do not have time.

Hopefully you enjoyed my little rant. I love overthinking stuff like this and also love chatting about over-the-top headcanons. If you have any thoughts on this (or other headcanons you want to share), please do!

[eunseoksimp]

Same Mistake ; Jung Sungchan

this is a super short throwaway from a story i started writing last month but had no motivation to finish tbh.

Pairings: Ex Boyfriend! Sungchan x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst

Description: trapped in a cycle of love and heartbreak, you and sungchan navigate the complexities of a tumultuous relationship. as emotions flare and unspoken truths linger, both of you struggle to break free from the patterns that keep pulling you apart.

Warnings: none

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

it was late, and the world outside was quiet in that eerie way it always was just past midnight. the city lights still flickered through the thin curtains, casting faint shadows across the room. the hum of distant traffic provided a low soundtrack to the silence that had settled between you and sungchan. the air felt thick with unspoken words, heavy with emotions neither of you had been brave enough to confront until now. 

you sat on opposite ends of the couch, though it felt like miles apart. sungchan was staring down at his hands, fingers loosely threaded together, while you picked at the fraying edge of a cushion, your mind racing as it always did in moments like this. moments of quiet before everything erupted into chaos again.

“why do you keep doing this?”

his voice broke the stillness, low and tired. you flinched, not because you didn’t expect the question but because you didn’t have an answer. not one that would satisfy him, anyway.

"doing what?" you asked, already knowing what he meant, but stalling. maybe if you delayed the inevitable long enough, it would somehow get easier.

"this." he gestured vaguely, frustration threading through his tone. 

"you act like you don’t care, like i mean nothing to you during the day. you’re cold, distant, like you’re not even here, and then at night..." his words trailed off, but you could hear the weight of what he left unsaid.

and then at night, everything changes. 

you bit your lip, trying to find the right words, but they were slippery, like water through your fingers. you hated how true it was, how predictable you had become. how predictable this entire cycle had become. distant during the day, yearning for connection at night. it was like you were two different people, and the worst part was, you weren’t sure which one was the real you anymore.

"sungchan, i..." you began, but your voice faltered, a lump forming in your throat. 

you didn’t know how to explain that you didn’t mean for things to be this way, that you didn’t even know how they had gotten so bad. it wasn’t like you had planned for this. for the distance. for the constant push and pull that left both of you exhausted.

"i don’t get it," he said, his frustration rising, voice cracking. "i’ve tried so hard to understand you, to meet you halfway, but it’s like you’re never really here. you’re always one step ahead, or one step behind, never where i need you to be." 

you winced at the sharpness in his words, knowing deep down he wasn’t wrong. you could feel the tension between you growing, pulling tighter with every passing second. it was only a matter of time before it snapped.

"i never meant for it to be like this," you whispered, your voice barely audible. 

but even as the words left your lips, they felt hollow. you didn’t even know if they were true. 

hadn’t you? hadn’t you known, deep down, that you were incapable of giving him what he needed? hadn’t you always been aware of the fact that no matter how much you wanted this to work, you were always going to sabotage it somehow?

"then why?" sungchan’s voice cracked, the vulnerability bleeding through his frustration. "why do you do it? why do you pull me in, only to push me away again? do you even care? do i even matter to you?"

your heart clenched at the rawness in his tone, the desperation that you had heard so many times before but never really listened to. because to listen would mean acknowledging how deeply you had hurt him. how deeply you were still hurting him. 

"of course you matter," you replied, your voice trembling. "you matter more than anything, sungchan." 

but even as you said it, you knew it wasn’t enough. words were just words, and they had lost their meaning long ago. every time you had said things would change, every time you had promised to try harder, to be better, had only led you both back here. to the same fight, the same frustration, the same heartbreak.

he let out a bitter laugh, leaning back against the couch, rubbing his face with his hands.

��“then why doesn’t it feel like it? why does it feel like i’m never enough for you? like no matter what i do, i’m always chasing after something that doesn’t even exist.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. there was so much pain in his eyes, so much exhaustion, and you knew that you were the cause of it. 

but what could you say? how could you explain that it wasn’t him, that it had never been about him? it was you. it was always you. 

you swallowed hard, your throat dry as you searched for something—anything—that might make this easier. 

"it’s not about you, sungchan," you finally said, your voice barely a whisper. "it’s me. i... i don’t know how to do this. i don’t know how to be what you need."

"and what exactly do i need?" he asked, his voice softer now, but still laced with frustration. 

you closed your eyes, willing yourself to stay calm, to keep your emotions in check. 

"someone who can give you all of themself. someone who isn’t afraid to commit, who doesn’t get scared and run away the second things get hard. someone who doesn’t make promises they can’t keep."

sungchan shook his head, running a hand through his hair. 

“you keep saying that like it’s some kind of excuse. like you can’t help it, but that’s the thing. you can. you choose this every time. you choose to stay half in and half out. and i... i can’t do it anymore.”

the finality of his words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, all you could do was sit there in stunned silence. you had always known this was coming, always known that sooner or later, you would push him too far, but hearing him say it out loud made it feel real in a way it hadn’t before.

"so what are you saying?" you asked, your voice shaky. "are you... are you leaving?"

he sighed deeply, looking away, and for a second, you thought you saw his resolve waver. but then he spoke again, his tone steady, determined. 

"i don’t know. but i can’t keep doing this. i can’t keep waiting for you to decide if you want me or not. i’m tired, and it’s breaking me.”

the words sent a shock of pain through your chest, like a knife twisting in your heart. you had known you were hurting him, but hearing him say it so plainly made it impossible to ignore. 

"i never wanted to hurt you," you said, your voice barely audible. 

"but you did," he replied, his voice soft but firm. "and the worst part is, i don’t even think you realize how much."

you swallowed hard, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. he was right. you hadn’t realized. or maybe you had, but you had convinced yourself that it wasn’t that bad, that it wasn’t irreparable. but now, looking at him, seeing the exhaustion in his eyes, you knew you had been wrong.

"i’m sorry," you whispered, the words feeling hollow, but it was all you had.

he let out a breath, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. 

"i know you are," he said, his voice softer now. "but sorry doesn’t fix it."

you bit your lip, the taste of salt and regret on your tongue. he was right, of course. sorry wasn’t enough. not anymore.

"i don’t know how to fix it," you admitted, your voice trembling. "i don’t even know if i can."

sungchan looked up at you, his eyes searching your face as if he was trying to find something—anything—that might give him a reason to stay. but after a moment, he just shook his head, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"maybe that’s the problem," he said quietly. "maybe you’re not supposed to fix it. maybe we’re not supposed to keep trying to make this work when it’s clearly broken."

the words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. this was it. this was the end, and you could feel it slipping through your fingers like sand, no matter how hard you tried to hold on.

"but i don’t want to lose you," you said, your voice breaking. "i don’t want this to be over."

"then why didn’t you fight for it?" he asked, his voice filled with pain and frustration. "why didn’t you fight for us before it got to this point?"

you didn’t have an answer, and the silence that followed was deafening.

he stood up, the movement sudden and jarring, and for a second, you thought he was going to walk out right then and there. but instead, he just stood there, looking down at you with a mixture of sadness and something else—something that looked an awful lot like defeat.

"i love you," he said quietly. "but i can’t keep fighting a battle that’s already lost."

the words shattered something inside of you, and you could feel the tears spilling over, hot and fast down your cheeks. you wanted to beg him to stay, to tell him that you would try harder, be better, do anything to make this work. but the truth was, you didn’t know if you could. 

and deep down, you knew that even if you tried, it wouldn’t be enough. not anymore.

he lingered for a moment, his hand reaching out like he wanted to touch you, to offer some kind of comfort, but then he dropped it to his side, his expression crumpling into something unreadable.

“goodbye,” he whispered, turning away before you could respond, leaving the room and you sitting alone with the wreckage of what was left.

the door clicked softly behind him, but the sound echoed in the stillness of the room, final and absolute.

you sat there for a long time, staring at the spot where he had been, trying to make sense of the emptiness that had settled over you. this wasn’t how it was supposed to end. not like this. but deep down, you had always known it would. you had always known that no matter how much you tried to hold on to the fragments, they were slipping through your fingers, one by one.

and now, it was over.

you didn’t move for what felt like hours, your mind replaying every argument, every promise, every moment of hope and heartbreak that had led you here. you had loved him. you still loved him. but somewhere along the way, you had lost yourself. and in trying to hold on to him, you had let go of the pieces of yourself that had once made you whole.

you thought back to all the times you had promised things would change, that you would be different, better. but no matter how many times you made those promises, the patterns always repeated. the same fights, the same hurt, the same cycle of pushing and pulling until neither of you could breathe.

and now, you were drowning in the consequences.

you moved towards the window, your feet heavy as if each step carried the weight of all the things you never said. the city was still alive out there, vibrant and uncaring, the world going on as if your heart wasn’t breaking into tiny pieces.

 the lights blurred behind your tear-filled eyes, and you wiped them away with the back of your hand, frustrated at yourself for feeling so small. for feeling like a part of you had just walked out of that door.

but the truth was, sungchan hadn’t just left tonight. the two of you had been drifting apart for months now, maybe longer. it had started out so beautifully, with everything seeming to fall into place effortlessly, but somewhere along the way, the cracks had begun to show.

you leaned against the cold glass, memories flooding your mind, uninvited. 

the first time you met, at a party you hadn’t even wanted to go to. you could still see the way he had looked at you from across the room, his eyes bright, curious, like he had seen something in you that no one else had. and maybe that was what had drawn you to him in the first place—the way he made you feel like you were someone special. like you were worth looking at, worth knowing.

it had been exciting, new. you were young, full of hope and potential, and he had been so different from anyone you had ever known. taller than everyone in the room, with a quiet intensity that was disarming. you had felt a spark between you that night, a gravitational pull that made everything else disappear. 

the early days were like that—magnetic. you couldn’t get enough of each other, and you didn’t want to. you stayed up late talking, sharing pieces of yourselves that you hadn’t shown anyone before. you talked about your dreams, your fears, and in those moments, you felt seen in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.

but as time passed, that intensity, that pull, began to shift. you couldn’t pinpoint when exactly, but slowly, the closeness you once shared became stifling. what had felt like comfort turned into something heavier, something that made you feel suffocated. maybe it was the pressure of trying to live up to who he thought you were, or maybe it was the way you had started to lose yourself in the process of trying to be everything he needed. 

and then there was sungchan—always so sure of what he wanted, always so certain about everything. he wanted you, wanted a future with you, and while that should have been enough, it wasn’t. because you weren’t sure of anything, least of all yourself.

you closed your eyes, feeling the sting of tears again, the memories of your past arguments playing on a loop in your mind. there had been so many nights like this, where things started out calm, quiet, only to end with one of you walking away, leaving the other in the wreckage of all the things unsaid. 

you hated fighting with him, but somehow, every conversation seemed to turn into a battle. no matter how hard you tried to avoid it, you always ended up here, locked in this endless cycle of push and pull, of wanting him close but also needing space, needing to breathe. 

you thought back to earlier tonight, when he had sat across from you, eyes filled with the same frustration you had seen so many times before.

"you don’t even know what you want, do you?" he had said, his voice low but sharp, cutting right to the core of you. it was a question he had asked before, and you hated it, because he was right.

you had tried to respond, to defend yourself, but the words got tangled in your throat. it was like every time you tried to explain how you felt, it came out wrong, twisted into something you didn’t mean. so you stayed silent, letting the tension grow, waiting for it to snap.

"it’s like you’re always one foot out the door," he had continued, his voice breaking, and you could see the exhaustion in his eyes. "i’m tired of wondering where i stand with you. i’m tired of waiting for you to make up your mind."

and you had sat there, frozen, knowing that he deserved better. knowing that he was right, but not knowing how to fix it. not knowing if you even could.

his words echoed in your mind now, the weight of them settling over you like a heavy blanket, suffocating in their truth. you had always been afraid of commitment, of giving too much of yourself to someone and losing who you were in the process. and with sungchan, that fear had become a reality. 

you wanted to love him, wanted to be the person he needed, but you didn’t know how. and every time you tried, every time you made a promise to change, you fell back into the same patterns, repeating the same mistakes over and over again.

"god, why can’t i just be normal?" you muttered to yourself, pressing your forehead against the cool glass. it was an endless loop in your mind. you wanted to love him, but every time you got close, you pulled away. 

you wanted to be better, but every time things got difficult, you found yourself slipping back into the same habits—pushing him away during the day, only to crave his touch at night. it was like some part of you couldn’t handle the intimacy, the vulnerability of being loved, and so you sabotaged it before it could get too close. before he could get too close.

you turned away from the window, the weight of your thoughts dragging you down. your phone was still sitting on the coffee table, silent, mocking you with its stillness. part of you wanted to call him, to apologize, to beg him to come back. but another part of you knew that it wouldn’t change anything. you had done this dance too many times before, and no amount of apologies or promises could fix the brokenness between you.

the sound of your own footsteps seemed too loud in the quiet apartment as you paced back and forth, trying to make sense of the mess in your head. you had wanted this to work, hadn’t you? you had tried. so why couldn’t you just let go of whatever it was that kept pulling you away from him?

and then there was sungchan—always so patient, always so willing to wait for you to figure things out. but even he had his limits. you had seen it in his eyes tonight, the way he had looked at you with a mix of frustration and resignation, like he was finally realizing that no matter how much he tried, you were never going to be the person he needed you to be.

he had always been the strong one, the one who held things together when they started to fall apart. but tonight, for the first time, you saw the cracks in his facade. you saw the weariness in his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged under the weight of it all. and you knew, deep down, that you were the cause of it.

you sat down on the couch, your legs folding under you as you stared at the empty space where he had been. your mind wandered back to the first time you had fought. it had been about something small, something so insignificant you couldn’t even remember the details now. but the way he had looked at you afterward, like he couldn’t believe that this was who you were, had stayed with you.

he had been so confused, so hurt, and you had been unable to explain why you had reacted the way you did. it had been the beginning of the pattern—the pushing and pulling, the way you would shut down whenever things got too real, too close. 

you sighed, leaning your head back against the couch, your eyes staring up at the ceiling. you had never been good at vulnerability. even as a kid, you had learned to keep your feelings tucked away, hidden from the world. your parents had never been the type to show affection, and you had grown up believing that love was something distant, something earned through achievement rather than freely given. 

and so, when sungchan had come into your life, with his open heart and his unwavering belief in love, you hadn’t known what to do with it. it had felt foreign, like a language you didn’t understand, and your instinct had been to run. but he had stayed, even when you pushed him away. he had stayed through every fight, every moment of doubt, believing that you were worth it. 

but now, you could see that belief starting to fade. 

the silence stretched on, the minutes ticking by, and you wondered what he was doing right now. was he as torn up as you were, or was he relieved that he had finally said the words that had been weighing on him for so long? 

you wiped at your eyes again, the tears coming slower now, but the ache in your chest remained. it was a dull, constant pain, one that you knew wouldn’t go away easily. 

"what the hell am i doing?" you whispered to the empty room, your voice barely audible. you had asked yourself that question so many times, but tonight, it felt heavier, more urgent. you had spent so long trying to protect yourself, trying to keep your heart safe from the pain of being fully known, but in the process, you had pushed away the one person who had been willing to love you anyway.

you stood up, your movements slow and deliberate, and walked to the small bookshelf by the door. there, tucked between a stack of books was a small box—a collection of mementos from your relationship. you hesitated for a moment before pulling it out, your fingers tracing the edges of the worn cardboard.

you sat back down on the couch, the box in your lap, and opened it slowly. inside were small tokens of your time together—movie tickets, polaroid pictures, handwritten notes.

you stared at the contents of the box, a flood of memories washing over you, each one a snapshot of the life you had shared with sungchan. the polaroids caught your eye first—moments frozen in time. there was one of him laughing, his eyes scrunched up and his mouth open wide in a way that made you feel warm inside, back when things were still easy between you. you remembered taking that picture, teasing him for being so serious all the time. 

"you’re always in your head," you had said, holding the camera up. "smile for once."

and he had—because you asked him to. because that’s who sungchan was, always giving a little bit more than you deserved.

your thumb brushed over another photo, this one of the two of you together, arms around each other, smiling in front of a beach sunset. your faces were flushed from the summer heat, and his hair was a mess from the wind, but you both looked happy. genuinely happy. 

you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears, but it was useless. they spilled over, and you let them fall this time. the weight of everything—the good memories, the bad ones, the regret—it all hit you at once. there were too many things left unsaid, too many chances you hadn’t taken. all the times you could’ve been honest with him but chose to stay silent instead. 

why was it so hard for you to love him the way he needed? you had asked yourself that question a thousand times, but no answer ever came.

as you sifted through the box, you found a note, folded and tucked away at the bottom. it was one of the first letters sungchan had written to you, back when he used to leave little messages for you to find. you unfolded it, your hands trembling as you read the familiar handwriting.

you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

the words were simple, but the meaning behind them was everything. it wasn’t just a declaration of love—it was a promise. a promise that he had kept, over and over, despite how difficult things had become. he had believed in you, in the two of you, even when you couldn’t believe in yourself.

but now, as you sat here alone, holding onto fragments of what once was, you realized how much you had taken that for granted. sungchan had been everything you had ever wanted—patient, kind, understanding—and yet, it still hadn’t been enough. or maybe *you* hadn’t been enough.

the thought made you sick to your stomach. how had you let it get to this point? how had you let someone like him slip away?

the weight of your regret felt unbearable. you had always told yourself that you didn’t need anyone, that you were fine on your own, but the truth was that you were terrified. terrified of letting someone in, of letting them see all the parts of you that you didn’t even want to look at yourself. and in trying to protect yourself, you had pushed away the only person who had ever truly seen you.

you pressed the note to your chest, closing your eyes as more tears spilled over. you had been selfish, hadn’t you? always running from your own emotions, always pulling away whenever things got too real. and now, it was too late. sungchan had finally reached his breaking point, and you couldn’t blame him for it.

as the minutes passed, you began to replay the countless arguments in your head. the way you’d get defensive, shutting him out whenever he tried to dig deeper, to understand what was really going on inside your head. the way he’d always try to smooth things over afterward, his voice soft as he asked you to just talk to him. 

"tell me what you’re thinking," he’d say, his eyes searching yours. "i don’t want to guess anymore."

but you never did. you never let him in. and now you were paying the price.

suddenly, your phone buzzed on the coffee table, startling you. your heart leaped in your chest for a brief moment—maybe it was sungchan. maybe he was calling to apologize, to tell you that he wasn’t really leaving. maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance.

but when you looked at the screen, your heart sank. it wasn’t him. just a notification, something meaningless. you let out a shaky breath, the hope that had flared up inside you quickly extinguished. 

he wasn’t going to call. this time, he was really gone.

you stood up, feeling restless, pacing the small living room as your mind raced. what were you supposed to do now? you couldn’t undo the past, couldn’t take back the things you had said—or the things you hadn’t said. and the worst part was, you didn’t even know if you deserved another chance. you had hurt him, over and over again, with your indecision, your fear of commitment. 

was it selfish to want him back now? or was it just another one of those moments where you were chasing something you couldn’t have? 

you sank down onto the couch again, your head in your hands. maybe you didn’t deserve him. maybe this was just the universe’s way of telling you that some things weren’t meant to be. 

but even as you tried to accept that, the ache in your chest refused to go away. because the truth was, you loved him. you always had. you just didn’t know how to show it. 

and now, maybe you never would.

the minutes stretched into hours as you sat there, lost in your own thoughts, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you like a physical burden. you thought about all the moments you had shared, the laughter, the late-night talks, the way his hand had felt in yours. you thought about the future you had once imagined with him, the life you could’ve had if things had been different.

and you thought about the mistakes you had made, the things you would give anything to take back. the promises you had broken, not just to him, but to yourself. you had wanted to be better, but somehow, you always ended up falling back into the same patterns, the same destructive habits.

why couldn’t you just be enough?

the thought echoed in your mind, over and over, until it was the only thing you could hear. you had spent so long trying to protect yourself, trying to keep your heart safe.

but in the end, all you had done was build walls that no one, not even sungchan, could break through.

and now, you were alone.

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part thirty] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, mentions of menstruation, pain, smut (mdni)

word count: 3.6k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

additional smut warnings: face sitting, protected sex, multiple orgasms

That night, Jisung took you to a pharmacy that was right by the resort. It was within walking distance but since you had a bad foot, you took a cab. He tipped the driver extra to leave the meter running and stay parked outside while you ran in together to grab what you needed, and then tipped him again when you made it back to the hotel since the whole journey was more of an inconvenience than an actual ride. 

After taking a shower, you soaked your foot like Amir had instructed you to and then fell asleep almost immediately. Surfing had completely sapped you of all of your energy, even without the whole sea urchin incident. 

Everything hurt when you woke up. It felt similar to the morning after having sex with Minho for the first time but ten times worse. You groaned as you rolled over, the sound splintering off into a whimper when you tried sitting up. 

“Quiet, they’re going to think we’re messing around in here,” Jisung said, shushing you. You’d woken him up with your noises. 

“Can’t help it,” you grumbled back. 

“Sore?” he asked. 

“Incredibly.”

“It’s brutal after your first time.”

“I’ve gathered that.”

“I’ll grab you some ibuprofen and a glass of water.”

“Thank you.”

-

The morning was spent lazily. Jisung made breakfast for everyone and you all ate together in the kitchen, listening to Dom explain the concept of the new book he was writing. You couldn’t really follow the plot but you still nodded along like you did and let the boys do all of the question asking. 

After breakfast, everyone got ready for the day and met in the lobby where you were picked up by a cab and taken to a marina. Jisung had told you that you would be snorkeling most of the day, but you hadn’t expected it to be deep sea snorkeling. The idea was a bit daunting but it turned out that it wasn’t actually as deep as the name suggested. The water was clear enough to see everything and the ocean floor was only about thirty feet below you. 

The captain of the boat you’d taken out to this spot had assured you that the area was shallow and full of marine life.

“We just like to take visitors out here because it’s less busy than right by the shore,” he said. 

Obviously, the man knew what he was talking about. The snorkeling was one of the highlights of the entire trip thus far for you. You had never seen so many fish in one place before, or coral for that matter. Everything was so vibrant that it felt right out of a page of NatGeo. It was nice just to be able to relax and let the water carry your body weight as you floated on the surface, especially since you were still so sore. You barely had to move at all. It was so peaceful that you almost fell asleep in the water. 

The only thing that startled you out of your half-asleep daze was Minho purposefully splashing you as he swam past you. 

You broke the news of your newfound dedication to celibacy to him once you got back to the resort that night. You’d stayed up to finish a movie with him after everyone else had gone to sleep and he’d invited you back to his room as soon as the credits rolled. 

“I just can’t keep going behind Jisung’s back,” you explained. 

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me,” he replied. You could tell he was disappointed but was trying not to let it show. You were disappointed too. You’d only slept with him twice but it was some of the best sex of your fucking life and you didn’t want to just throw that away. “Any reason to want to stop is reason enough, and it’s not my business,” he added. 

“It kind of is, though,” you reasoned with a sigh. He just shrugged. “I just thought you deserved to know.”

“Thanks for being honest.” He stood from the couch unceremoniously and turned back to you. “Uh, goodnight, I guess.”

You didn’t respond right away, taking a moment to admire the way the light from the television illuminated his features. 

“Goodnight, Minho.” 

You cringed inwardly at how weak you sounded, forcing a polite smile. The second his back was turned you started rethinking everything. Were you really going to let him just walk away?

“Wait-” you called out after him. “One more time couldn’t hurt, right?”

-

Your back hit the mattress as soon as the door shut behind you, Minho having pushed you onto his bed at the same time. You bounced a little, giggling as he jumped on top of you. He moved his way up your body until he was able to kiss you, sliding a hand under your head to lift you up to him. You kissed him back eagerly, slipping your tongue into his mouth as soon as the chance presented itself. Minho moaned quietly and you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer. 

“We have to be quiet,” he reminded you after breaking away from the kiss. “Felix is right next door.”

You nodded. “I can be quiet.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Mhm, you’ll just have to find something to keep my mouth busy.”

“Fuck.”

He began undressing you slowly, taking his time with you like you knew he liked to do. You were already in your pajamas so everything came off easily. Your t-shirt, your stolen boxer shorts that Minho had probably once thought to be his brother’s, your panties. You were lying naked underneath him in no time.

“I’m off my period, by the way,” you added. 

“You know I don’t care about that.”

“Yeah, but I thought you’d want to know… just in case.”

He narrowed his eyes, not following. “Just in case… of what?”

You sighed and flung your arms to the side dramatically. “Oh my god, are you really going to make me spell it out for you?”

“Spell out what?” he hissed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I already told you I don’t care about whether you’re on your period or not.”

“Okay, but there are certain things you can’t do on your period.”

“Like what?”

You rolled your eyes. He really was hopeless. At this point, you weren’t sure if he was actually oblivious or being obtuse on purpose. You had been under the impression that Minho liked eating pussy but maybe he had just been pretending to enjoy it for your benefit. 

“Do you want to go down on me or not?”

His eyes widened in realization and he nodded eagerly. “Oh, you should’ve just said that.”

“I was trying to!”

“You kept skirting around it!” he argued. 

“I didn’t want to say it outright…” you trailed off. 

“Why? Are you embarrassed?” He was teasing you and you knew it.

“A little,” you admitted. “I’m not used to asking for what I want.”

He smirked, leaning down to kiss you on the mouth as he answered. “Well, you’d better get used to it.”

You were tempted to tell him it was pointless since this was the last time you were going to sleep together but you didn’t want to bring the mood down so you just nodded into the kiss and tried your best to forget about the depressing reality. 

He broke away again, this time to take off his own clothes. You watched him pull his shirt over his head, bottom lip between your teeth as your gaze trailed the defined lines of his body. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” you whispered, allowing yourself to reach out and touch him. Your fingers followed the same path as your eyes had and Minho shivered beneath your touch. You expected him to quip back with something smart, something to defuse the sincerity in your voice, but he didn’t. Instead, he pushed his hips forward so that he could grind against you. 

A moan caught in your throat and you arched your back, meeting him halfway. The fabric felt good on your clit and the motion of his hips created the friction you had been searching for but you were worried about staining the material. You were already turned on, and your arousal was only building as Minho kissed his way down your neck. You would be mortified if there was a noticeable wet spot on the front of his pants when he pulled away. 

For Minho, though, that seemed to be the last thing on his mind. His hands roamed your body like he was trying to memorize each and every curve, like he was an artist, committing your figure to memory so that he could sketch it in graphite once you left his bed. 

“Did you want me to?” he asked suddenly. 

“Want you to what?”

“Eat you out?”

You shifted a bit on the bed, shy all of the sudden. “Um, only if you want to.”

“Of course I want to, but I wanted to make sure you wanted me to.”

“I don’t know any girl who would turn that down,” you said, half chuckling, then rushed to add, “well there are some people who don’t like it, or prefer other things over it, you know? Or can’t enjoy it because they’re insecure and I mean, I’m not one of those people but-” 

“Baby,” Minho cut you off. “A simple yes or no is all I need.”

“Yes. Please.”

Minho grinned and leaned back in to kiss you. “You’re cute.”

You didn’t have it in you to argue so you just pouted as you accepted the kiss. Minho groaned into your mouth, hands coming down to cup your breasts. His thumbs ran over your nipples making you gasp. You got lost in each other for a moment, original goal forgotten until Minho began kissing his way down your neck. He replaced one of the hands on your boobs with his mouth, tongue laving over your nipple just like it would your clit. 

You didn’t want to rush him but you were also beginning to feel desperate so you brought a hand to his hair, running your fingers through it before pushing down lightly, trying to signal what you needed. The salt water had left his hair more tousled than usual, leaving it just long enough to fall into his eyes. Even after a shower, it was more wavy than anything. You thought it suited him. Then again, you thought everything suited him. 

You weren’t sure how much time passed before Minho finally spoke. 

“Want you to sit on my face,” he mumbled against your skin. “Please?”

You sat up a bit, unsure you’d heard him correctly. “Are you serious?”

“Are you going to make me beg?” he asked, not answering the question. 

“No, I just… no one’s ever asked me to do that before.”

Minho seemed surprised, likely due to his knowledge of your sexual experience. “Really?”

You nodded. “The guys I usually go for aren’t very-”

“Good in bed?” he supplied.

“Well, yeah. And I’m usually the one asking the girls, so…”

A smirk passed over his face briefly as he processed the information before his expression fell into one of concern again. “Don’t feel like you have to do it just because I want to.”

“No, I know. I’m just a little nervous, I guess.”

“We can stop whenever you want. Just let me know.”

You shook your head and exhaled. “Okay. How should I…”

Minho rolled off of you and onto his back so that you could position yourself on top of him. He helped you straddle his face, big hands rubbing soothing circles on each of your thighs. 

“Just so you know, my entire body still feels like jelly from surfing so you’re going to have to do all of the work.”

“I can do that.”

“Are you sure?”

Minho scoffed as if he was offended you’d even ask. “Positive. Do you think I’m weak?”

“N-no! I just-”

“I’ve got you, okay?”

You gulped. “Okay.”

“And that means don’t hover. When I say sit on my face I mean sit. You won’t crush me, if that’s what you’re scared of.”

It was like he could read your mind. 

“Ready?” he asked. 

“Yes,” you whispered in response. 

He coaxed you into lowering yourself little by little until you were close enough for him to taste. You balanced your weight on your knees, still not confident enough to fully rest on him despite his words. 

But Minho ended up getting his way in the end because as soon as his tongue touched your pussy, you were suddenly unable to hold yourself upright. You were barely two seconds in and your legs gave out on you, just like you predicted. You weren’t sure why you even tried to ‘hover’ in the first place. 

You tried to soften the fall by throwing yourself forward so that at least the top half of your body weight wouldn’t come crashing down on his face but he caught you before your hands hit the mattress and pulled you back on top of him. 

“I said not to hover.” It was muffled but you could still make it out. 

After that, it was a blur. You couldn’t even worry about whether or not you were suffocating Minho. All you could think about was how fucking good his mouth felt on your cunt. 

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop!” you whimpered, still trying to keep your voice down. 

Minho could only hum in affirmation but you were sure he would’ve had a thousand cocky lines on the tip of his tongue had the tip of his tongue not been inside of you.  

You came hard with a quiet yelp of his name, thighs clenching around his head. He helped you through your orgasm as always, trying to make it as long as possible by encouraging you to ride his face. 

You collapsed on the bed as soon as the aftershocks ebbed away, clutching your chest as you tried to catch your breath. 

“Fuck, that was so hot,” Minho complimented.  

“It… was… hot for me… too.”

He chuckled lightheartedly and reached for his crumpled t-shirt that he’d set against one of the pillows, using it to wipe his mouth and chin before dropping it on the floor. You made a face and he just shrugged, same stupid grin on his face.

“I’m going to wash it.”

You sighed. “I know, just…”

“Figured you wouldn’t want me dripping when I kissed you.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed and rolled your eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Am I? I think the stain on my pants would say otherwise.”

You didn’t even have time to be mortified because Minho was pressing his lips to yours, effectively erasing whatever you had been about to say from your mind. It was exactly what you’d been afraid of happening but he didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he seemed to be even more aroused by it. You could feel how hard he was through his sweats as he rocked his hips against yours, all because of you. 

“Don’t be embarrassed about it,” he murmured. 

“How did you-”

“Because I know you. And I know you overthink everything. But I think it’s hot, I promise.”

You whined in response, not used to hearing sweet words in bed. His eyes softened as he gazed at you. They were still dark with lust but you could see flecks of fondness peeking through the desire. It made you remember what he said the first time you hooked up. 

Who the fuck ever told you to apologize for being turned on?

“I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it,” he added with a peck to your nose. “Are you good to keep going?”

You nodded. “Yes, please. Need you.”

“I can tell.”

He was back to teasing you like nothing had happened which was oddly more comfortable. The sincerity of his words had scared you a little, reignited feelings you’d rather not address. It was already hard enough to repress them in intimate moments like these. The thought of Minho actually caring about you was more than you could handle. 

“Let me grab a condom,” he mumbled, leaning towards the dresser. 

He rifled through the top drawer for one and then shimmied out of his pants and underwear. You laid there motionless as you waited for him to roll one on, still a little out of it from cumming so hard the first time. 

“You’re really going to have to do all of the work this time,” you told him. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“Not a problem,” he replied with a wink. “Do you want my fingers first?”

You considered it for a second. You did love his fingers but it was getting late and you both needed to get up relatively early in the morning. And you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t getting impatient for his dick. 

“No, just go slow.”

“I’ll go as slow as you need me to.”

You winced as he pushed himself inside of you, hissing through your teeth at the stretch. It wasn’t bad, just a bit overwhelming, but Minho took your reaction as one of pain. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry,” he grunted. “Should I stop?”

You shook your head. “Keep going.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Please keep going.”

He brought one of his hands down to where you were connected and began to rub your clit with his thumb to distract you from the slight discomfort. Soon, all of the feelings bled into pleasure, indistinguishable from each other, and you started pushing your hips up, weakly fucking yourself on Minho’s cock. 

“Needy all of the sudden, aren’t we?” he mused. 

“Always needy for you,” you moaned back.

You swore you could feel him twitching inside of you as he cursed. “Want me to move?”

“Please…”

He matched your pace in no time, fully taking over for you just like you’d wanted him to. He kept one hand on the headboard, half to keep his balance, half to keep it from banging against the wall. The other hand had moved from your clit to your face, where he was stroking your cheek with his thumb. 

It was different than the other times you’d slept together. He was fucking you slow and deep, each thrust making your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

“Fuck, how are you always so tight?” he asked. 

You were too fucked out to answer. He didn’t seem to mind. 

You weren’t sure how much time passed before he stopped suddenly, telling you to hold on for just as a second as he grabbed a pillow from behind you. 

“Does that actually work?” you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows so that he could position it under your lower back. 

“I’ve read great reviews.” He ignored the way you rolled your eyes. “Lay back down. How’s that?” He gave an experimental thrust, smiling cockily when your jaw went slack and your mouth fell open. 

The change in angle allowed the head of his cock to rest against your g-spot, meaning whenever he moved he was hitting it dead-on. every. time. 

“Minho, fuck!” you cried. 

“Baby,” he warned. 

You moaned again and he immediately shushed you. “What did I say about being quiet?” he growled. 

“I t-told you that you’d have to figure out a way to make me,” you choked out. 

Minho must have taken that as a challenge because as soon as you got the words out he was shoving two fingers into your mouth, making you suck on them. You moaned around them. 

“That’s it, darling. Better?”

You nodded to the best of your ability. You wanted to tell Minho how hot he looked, how good he made you feel, how close you were to cumming but you couldn’t do any of that. To be fair, you doubted you’d be able to string a sentence together even if his fingers weren’t in your mouth. 

“‘M close,” he admitted, sounding a little embarrassed. You weren’t sure why. He’d lasted a lot longer than a lot of your other partners. If anything it was impressive.

You tried mumbling out a me too but it was difficult with your mouth full. He seemed to get the idea, though and motioned for you to rub your clit to help you get there. 

Minho came first, muffling a shout by biting your shoulder. You wished you could see his face, he was always so pretty when he came, but the sting from the bite was enough to throw you into your own orgasm. 

Afterward, when you had both stopped trembling and regained enough muscle strength to move, Minho helped you get redressed. He instructed you to raise your arms above your head so that he could pull your shirt back on, laughing with you when your head got stuck. 

You found yourself wishing that you could spend the night with him. It would be so nice to be able to fall asleep in his arms, to wake up next to him. You knew you couldn’t. It was just wishful thinking. You weren’t even sure if he wanted the same thing. You had always assumed that this was just sex to him, but his behavior towards you had made you start to think otherwise. 

“You should shower,” Minho said softly, breaking the silence. He was suddenly unable to meet your gaze and you didn’t want to think about what that meant. “Got you all sweaty.”

“What about you?” you asked.  

“I’ll go after you. We probably shouldn’t…” he trailed off. “Not that I don’t want to-”

“No, I get it,” you said. “Goodnight, Minho.”

i'm on my laptop tn so no taglist but pls lmk what you think I always appreciate feedback!!

add yourself to my taglist here!

[doodlekoo]

OUCH | pjm

Summary: you hurt your foot and Jimin thinks your gonna die

Pairing: boyfriend!jimin x fem?reader (mentions pronouns a few times)

Word count: 2.4k

Rating: PG

Genre/Warnings: established relationship, injury, pain, implied?verbal abuse, explicit language, kissing, FLUFF HEH (my favourite), oc is so in love with Jimin

Note: hello fellow fluff lovers, i’m so sorry i’ve been ia for 10 months i was focusing on finishing my final year for college. tbh creative writing isn't my strong point it’s more of a side hobby so please understand i won’t be updating regularly i’ll probably be posting more so when I'm bored and feel like it ahahaha. I do want to point out thanks to all those who liked my previous stories. I really do appreciate it it’s great motivation!! anywho this story was based on when i hurt my foot (it was a more gross story but still hurt like a bitch) i tried limping home but the entire time i wished someone would carry me and care for me the way jimin does in the ff (sad i know). i originally wanted it to be longer going into detail about Jimin’s backstory but i thought short and sweet was better SO ENJOY i hope you all like it :)

and as always please let me know what you guys think and if you want more stories like this! please also leave a like and/or reblog if you enjoyed reading! :D

A warm sensation spreads through your body, engulfing you in a comforting embrace. You couldn't help but smile as a sense of contentment washed over you. The day had been a success. You followed every command and every instruction that your superiors had asked you to follow. Starting a new job was a challenging experience, one you hadn’t gone through before. The memory of your previous employment still haunts you, the echoes of your coworkers' voices reverberating in your mind as they berated you for the slightest of missteps. Not only was it stressful to deal with that every day, but you would also feel even more drained coming home after the endless regrets ran through your mind.

The more you worked at that god-awful place, the more your thoughts grew—were these issues truly insignificant, or were they looming large and you simply lacked the perspective to see them?

Your boyfriend, Jimin, was constantly begging you to quit the job since the sight of you so wrapped up in absolute guilt crushed him every day. Jimin only wanted what was best for you. The stubbornness he had over you was often a hard take but it was only ever going to be beneficial. As the begs increased in volume, your guilt scaled high, resulting in an endless cycle.

You knew you had to do it. Gathering yourself mentally and emotionally to utter those two liberating words took a great deal of courage.

"I quit."

You said it slightly quietly, still unsure. but you were stern about it with an attempt at a demeaning stare. In your head, you felt pretty confident with the way you delivered it, only to have that confidence descend with the sudden scoffs followed by the classic response, "Is that supposed to impress me?"

Perhaps Jimin was right. The testosterone in the room was unbearable at this point, and that slow, excruciating deterioration of your brain was just really not worth it. Staring back at your manager, you remained undeterred.

"I'll be handing in my notice tomorrow."

It was never worth creating an argument with your manager or anyone who lacked basic brain cells, in fact. That simple interaction only changed you for the better, and slowly but surely you felt you had a little more respect for yourself.

As you navigate the bustling street after your third shift, a palpable aura of rejuvenation surrounds you, causing your steps to take on a playful bounce. The faint aroma of coffee lingers on your clothes. The joy felt completely surreal, almost like time and space had been warped. Though the relentless bombardment of verbal abuse made your mind gradually deteriorate, it now made even the most challenging tasks a mere cakewalk.

The rain had been hammering down on the cafe windows for most of the day, so when you were met with the fortunate sun slowly peeking out from the clouds, you felt enveloped with its warmth, feeling it gradually filling your mind up with a little extra dose of serotonin.

Several metres or so away from your workplace, in a small back alley, you could smell the damp brick encroaching on your senses. Looking farther ahead, you saw the recent confrontation you were only slowly getting used to. It was amusing to you that a couple of steps were the only thing you had to worry about in your new day-to-day life. It was a sign that you were at least doing something right. You braced yourself for the steep steps that lay ahead while keeping in mind the wet, slick concrete.

And at that moment, the serotonin vanished. As the calmness of the moment dissipated, a surge of anxiety and adrenaline took over. Your heart plummeted as you failed to catch those final steps. Your foot barely brushes the step's edge. As you stumbled, your ankle gave way beneath you, sending you tumbling to the ground.

You squealed, trying not to make any noise, as a wave of pain shot from your foot up through your body when the weight followed.

"Ouch,"

You hissed in pain as you sat at the foot of the steps. Looking absolutely helpless. The surrealness seemed to slip away as the situation unfolded before your eyes. Your mind wandered in silence. As you glanced around, a wave of relief washed over you as you realised that no one had witnessed your mortifying disaster.

I'm fine. I'm fine. You managed to convince yourself that you could make it home since the distance to your house was less than a mile. I can limp; it's fine. You reached for the railing and attempted to pull yourself up, only to be reacquainted with the searing pain you'd felt before.

Fuck.

You personally don't like to worry excessively about pain and injuries because you've always considered it a waste of time to acknowledge the warnings your body gave you. As the numbness set in, you realised that the situation was far worse than you had initially thought. Your body lay still and unresponsive, leaving you with only your thoughts to keep you company.

Along with the overwhelming urge to get up and leave, you also had the nagging fear that someone could hear a small person yelping at the bottom of the steps and decide to make a huge deal out of it. You know one person, Jimin, who would take his time over an insignificant issue. He would be the one to hire a golden carriage and transport you in grandeur, as the conclusion to convincing you that you needed to rescue yourself from those said scary steps. That was the worst-case scenario in your mind. However, it reached the point where you would rather have him make this big of a deal than a complete stranger who would have thought you were weak, whereas Jimin was certain that you are not.

A soft, sad sigh escapes your lips as your hand instinctively reaches for the back pocket of your jeans. With fingers trembling in anticipation, you searched for Jimin's name. As you raised your phone to your ear, you sensed your heart rate accelerating. Your nerves were on edge, and you did not want to burden Jimin with any additional worries. Making Jimin anxious was punishment enough. Every day, catching a glimpse of Jimin's radiant smile was like a burst of sunshine, flooding your world with a second dose of serotonin. But the thought of not being able to bring that smile to his face or turn it into a beaming grin was gnawing at your insides.

"Hey, ___, I’m so sorry. I’ll be home soon! I’m just out with Namjoon and Hobi!" Jimins' amplified voice, together with the distant chatter in the background, echoed through the alleyway. "No, Jimin i-"

"It was just- Hobi wanted us to come see designs after work, and naturally we all piled into the bar! We are finishing up now!"

"Jimin, that's not why I'm calling…" You replied with a low tone.

"Huh?? Sorry babe, I can't hear you that well!" You chuckled to yourself at the agonising situation. Oh Jimin..

"Jimin, I fell.."

"Sorry, what was that??"

"I don’t know Jimin. I fell down these steps, and I can't get up. It's so embarrassing. I don't know what to do.."

"Shit. Stay there. I'm coming now. Where are you?" The way Jimin's entire demeanour shifts over the phone, it intimidates the hell out of you.

"I’m just outside that alleyway from my work... Do you know the one?"

"Yes, I do. I’ll be there in five minutes." And with that, Jimin ends the call.

"Fuck. That was my girlfriend. I’m so sorry guys, I have to go" Jimin, on the other hand, was shitting it. Hearing your frightened voice over the phone was enough for him to travel day and night to you.

"Is something wrong?" Namjoon asked, apprehensive. He'd only see Jimin's expression like this when something was seriously wrong.

"I'm not sure, I think she’s hurt. I'll see you guys soon." Jimin said, frantically stuffing all his things in his bag. "Aw, alright, I hope she’s okay," Hoseok chirped.

"I hope so too. Bye!!" And just like that, Jimin literally flew outside the bar door. Foot harsh on the pedal. On his way: to you.

You kept your eyes on the cracks along the walls, waiting for Jimin. In the end, a few people did come by, but you covered it up by sitting on the floor and talking on your phone, and they didn't seem to notice. It's currently quiet as the sun is descending. But eventually you could hear faint, sporadic panting in the distance. It was the said saviour of the day.

"___!! Oh my god, oh my god, are you okay?? What happened?!?" Jimin gasped, looking at you like a precious gem that had cracked.

"I’m alright, just a little stumble. But I can't stand up, and it’s annoying." With a faint chuckle, you replied. You looked up at him, hoping to see his gaze soften and persuade him that it wasn't such a major issue, but his anxious expression didn't fade.

Scrambling towards you, he examined your ankle carefully, gently touching it in the process.

"Hm, I’m not a doctor, but I think maybe you sprained it. We should go to the hospital." He announced it sincerely.

"NO. I mean- no Jimin, no hospital, please; it’s not a big deal."

"Are you sure? I mean, you said you couldn’t even stand up?" It was endearing that Jimin tried to convince you, but because you didn't want to feel even more embarrassed, you simply scowled at him and hoped he understood what you were trying to imply.

"Okay, okay, let’s go home then." Jimin let out a little giggle at your silliness. But he now knew it was time for him to take on the doctor role and oh how Jimin would take that role very seriously. "Right, I need to carry you to the car then, can you try and get on my back?"

Jimin crouched in front of you after turning around. You used your entire upper-body strength to push yourself onto Jimin's back by reaching for his shoulders. His arms came back around and supported you from behind before he stood up and repositioned you.

"You okay?" Jimin asks once again. "Yes. Thank you, Jimin."

You scoot closer to his back, not just so he can carry you, but also so you can embrace him. Jimin carefully made his way back up the steps and onto the busy street, attempting to find his way back to the car park. You felt embarrassed by the many stares so you cuddled your face closer into the back of Jimin's neck.

It felt safe there, and you could smell his perfume's mild flowery scent mingled with the peppermint notes of his shampoo. Oh, how he always smelled so good. You smiled into his neck and pecked him lightly. This elicited a slight chuckle from him.

Jimin gently places you in the passenger seat and carefully rearranges your legs. He tightens the seatbelt and ensures you're safe and secure. You glance up at him, speechless. After the manner in which he's been treating you, the decision to call him for assistance felt extremely justifiable. As your gaze lingers on Jimin, he catches your eye, and a soft chuckle escapes his lips once more.

"Is this okay?" Jimin asked with a grin. "Yes, Jimin, this is perfect." As your gaze met his, a rush of warmth flooded your heart. The way he looked at you with such tenderness and affection was a feeling beyond words. To have someone who cherished you so deeply was truly a gift beyond measure. A rosy hue crept up Jimin's cheeks, causing his smile to widen even further.

Closing your door and driving back to the house was quite quiet, but it also felt soothing and safe at the same time. Jimin carried you on his back once again while fumbling to retrieve his keys from his pocket to open the door. Making his way to the sofa, he plopped you down softly.

"Okay, wait there. Don't go anywhere; I’m going to find a bandage." You laughed and shook your head at his stupid yet endearing joke.

When Jimin returned 10 minutes later, he did not only return with a bandage but also with half the house. Blankets, pillows, comfy clothes, a big bowl of snacks, and on top, the said bandage. You couldn’t even see his concentrated face through the massive mountain of love.

Your laughs echoed throughout the room once again while Jimin dumped everything beside you. He then carefully helps you undress into your loungewear and, following a YouTube tutorial, attempts to wrap the bandage around your foot. Watching him all focused on you made your heart flip around the room. He is so adorable.

"Okay, I think that’s good. Now do you want a pillow under your foot as well?" Jimin asked you politely. "I think it’s alright like this." You look at him, smiling.

"Hm, scratch that, I’m getting you a pillow."

When Jimin returns from getting a pillow, he gently lifts your feet to place it beneath them. He then throws various fluffy blankets over you while tucking in the sides, making sure once again that you don’t go anywhere. Looking back at you, he moves in close, giving you a soft peck on your forehead. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he momentarily retreats before leaning back in, peppering your face with a flurry of playful kisses. The two of you erupt into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, your heads thrown back in pure love and joy.

"Now what should I put on the TV for you?" Jimin sits beside you after grabbing the TV remote. "Anything I don’t mind."

Jimin then proceeds to put on your favourite film. Pressing play; he looks at you with a soft smile. "Please be more careful; I hate seeing you hurt like this." He pats your head gently while wrapping his arm around you.

"I’ll try not to Jimin ''. You say as you move closer to him, resting your head on his chest.

Paying close attention to the rest of the movie, your sixth sense tells you Jimin isn't watching it at all; he's staring at your ankle, hoping nothing will hurt it any further.

[weemssapphic]

Lipstick Stains - Pt. 15

previous chapter | next chapter | series page

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

summary: As your weekend getaway comes to a close, life at Nevermore continues as usual - with all the ups and especially downs that this entails.

words: ~ 2.5k | ao3 link in title

A/N: HI I'M SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO FINISH THIS. I lost all motivation, but it's slowly coming back. The most MASSIVE thank you goes out to @afeatherformills for beta reading, helping me plan out the next chapters, giving me ideas and being so patient with me! I love you! <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You really wished you didn’t have to leave New York. The weekend had been one of the best of your entire life - the prospect of going back to classes on Monday morning, of going back to seeing Larissa once or twice a week while you lived your lives in two separate worlds, was something that caused a little pit of dread to grow in your stomach. You clung a little tighter to Larissa in bed that morning, pouting when Larissa extricated herself from your grip to let in room service. 

Maybe you were being a bit clingy, you realized, as you nearly caused Larissa to spill her coffee all over the sheets as you burrowed into her side. But it was with good reason, and you could tell from the softness in your lover’s gaze (even as she gasped and tried to hold her mug steady) that she was feeling the same way.

“We have to check out in half an hour,” Larissa said with a sigh, once you’d finished picking at your food. You looked up at her from where your head rested in her lap, your lips curling into a frown. 

“Can’t we just stay here forever?” you whispered hopefully - of course you couldn’t, you knew, but the thought was awfully tempting.

Larissa smiled, a hint of sadness in her eyes as she carded her fingers through your hair, red-tipped nails lightly scratching your scalp. “Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered. 

“Like what?”

“Like that,” she teased, dragging her finger across your pouting lips. “It makes me want to give you everything you ask for.”

“Pleaaaase?” You gave her your best puppy dog eyes, burrowing your head further into her lap.

“How about I promise you that we’ll take another trip soon? The students have exams coming up but perhaps after that, before Christmas?”

In spite of your sadness, an undercurrent of excitement was already brewing in your veins - you couldn’t help the grin forming at Larissa’s words, and her own smile grew brighter at the sight.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, Larissa, that’s a yes,” you said with a playful eye roll.

After packing up your things, Larissa ushered you down to the lobby to check out. Seeing as your flight wasn’t leaving until the evening, you left your suitcases with the reception to head out into the city and find a nice café.

Something about walking through the streets of New York City with Larissa felt so liberating to you. There was this freeing feeling that no one here knew you - you could be anyone, do anything you wanted. You could be as open as you wanted to be - and you could tell that Larissa felt the same. You’d rarely seen her so free, so uninhibited, so relaxed.

It hit you as you sat across from her in a little café you’d found. The two of you were tucked away in a booth in the back corner, away from the other patrons. It was cozy and warm, and the way Larissa was looking at you over the rim of her mug was bringing heat to your cheeks. You’d never been looked at with so much affection before - her sapphire eyes were bright and loving, drinking you in as if you were a work of art to be admired, a sight to be savored. If you hadn’t been seated, you’d have gone weak in the knees.

“When are you free this week?” you blurted out, and Larissa smiled as she placed her mug down in front of her and leaned her elbows on the table, propping her chin on her hand.

“Why do you ask?” She sounded amused at your sudden outburst, her tone bordering on teasing.

“I mean… I’ve been meaning to paint you. We could make a date out of it?” You held your breath hopefully as you waited for Larissa to respond. Her cheeks darkened and her eyelashes fluttered gently against her cheeks as she glanced down at the table, suddenly looking rather shy.

“I would really love that,” she whispered, her lips curling up at the outer corners. “I’ll check my calendar when I get back to Nevermore.” For all of her confidence and dominance in nearly every aspect of her life, she was very easily flustered by you. You could hardly fathom why, but it was extremely endearing to watch her smoldering gaze turn soft and affectionate, to watch her cheeks turn pink, to witness her chest hitching whenever you would do or say something that made her lose her cool.

“Cool,” you whispered back, a smile tugging at your lips.

~~~

You should have known that the little bubble you’d found yourself in over the weekend would burst the moment you landed in Vermont.

When the plane touched down, Larissa leaned over and gave you a tender kiss, her hand coming to rest on your thigh. She turned her attention to the phone in her other hand, turning off airplane mode as you did the same with yours.

A sharp intake of breath caused you to glance over at Larissa, whose brow was furrowed as her eyes scanned the little screen. 

“What’s wrong?” You tried to peek at the screen, seeing about half a dozen or so missed calls from the sheriff in her notifications.

Larissa gave you a worried look as she clicked on one of the calls and lifted the phone up to her ear. 

“Sheriff Galpin, I was just on a flight. I do hope there’s a reason you’ve called this late on a Sunday? … I’m sorry, pardon?”

You observed Larissa as closely as you could - her forehead wrinkled as she listened to whatever the sheriff was saying, her face growing pale and her lips parting in shock. Then you felt her grip on your thigh tighten and you glanced down to see her knuckles slowly turning white as her nails dug into your flesh.

“I-I understand. Did you see who may have hit him?”

Placing a hand over her own, you gently pried it off of your thigh and held it in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Ms. Addams?” Larissa’s face hardened and she let out an annoyed scoff. You weren’t sure what had happened, but if Wednesday was involved, you knew it couldn’t be anything good.

“I hate to trouble you, but would you be able to drive her back to Nevermore? Have her come straight to my office, I should be there in an hour at the latest.” Larissa had turned from shocked and concerned to hard and authoritative within seconds, and you waited for her to finish the call and slide her phone into her purse before giving her hand another squeeze.

“What happened?” you whispered. The plane had pulled up to the gate and passengers were beginning to stand and collect their luggage from the overhead bins. 

“Mayor Walker has been hit by a car and is in critical condition.” Larissa’s lip twitched as she spoke, and she swallowed thickly.

You felt your stomach drop. “And Wednesday?”

“Ms. Addams was witness to the accident. How that girl manages to end up at the center of every terrible thing that happens around here, I’ll never know.”

“Fuck, Larissa, I’m sorry…” As the man in the aisle seat next to you stood, you followed suit, your conversation briefly interrupted as you made your way off the plane and towards the baggage claim. Larissa held your hand in a death-grip in the ten or so minutes that you waited for your suitcases - in her other hand was her phone, which she glanced down at every couple of seconds. 

Once you’d retrieved your suitcases, you rolled both of them towards the exit as Larissa was quite distracted by her emails. So distracted that she nearly bumped into you when you stopped and turned to face her. She slid her phone reluctantly into her purse, looking guilty as she met your gaze. 

“Go,” you said softly, nodding your head towards the exit for the parking lot. “There’s a bus I can catch.”

Larissa’s brows knit together and she frowned. “No. I want to drive you home.” Even as she spoke you could see the conflict in her eyes, the internal battle taking place, and you took a step towards her, placing your hands on her waist and smiling up at her. 

“Please go. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Larissa began to nibble at her bottom lip as her eyes darted between your own. Finally, she sighed. “Thank you. At least take a taxi though.” She began to rifle through her purse for her wallet, opening it and pulling out a few bills, which she folded and tucked into your pocket in spite of your protests. 

“Fine,” you huffed with a playful eye roll. “I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

Larissa nodded her head and smiled - it didn’t quite reach her eyes, though you could tell it was genuine all the same. After giving you a tight hug, she dragged her suitcase out to the parking lot, her head held high and her step quick. You watched her go, waiting until she was out of sight before making your own way to the front of the airport to get a taxi with a heavy heart and a weird gnawing in your belly.

~~~

As you stepped over the threshold of the apartment, you were greeted by the smell of chinese food and the excited squeals of your roommate, Cassandra, who launched herself at you and pulled you into a tight hug. 

Cass was chattering away before you could even properly close the door behind you. “How was it? You have to tell us everything. Do you have pictures of the hotel? Robin said that Larissa is loaded, it better have been nice!” She pulled back and gave you a once-over, smirking as her eyes lingered on the faint hickeys littering your neck. “Don’t tell me you didn’t leave the hotel room?”

“Let her breathe,” Robin called out from the couch, making you chuckle a bit.

Cassandra rolled her eyes and let out a playful huff. “Okay, but it’s her fault for not texting us all weekend.”

“I see you every damn day anyway,” you said, taking a moment to drop your bag to the floor and remove your coat. “If you want a play-by-play, you’re not getting one. It was nice. We went to the Met and we saw Wicked.” You shrugged - of course you’d had the perfect weekend and were excited to gush about it (and especially about Larissa) to your friends. But the situation with the mayor and Larissa’s abrupt departure at the airport left you feeling rather ill at ease, and you couldn’t keep your thoughts from wandering towards your partner. 

“Something happened,” Cassandra said, pulling you out of your thoughts. She squinted at you, cocking her head. “What’s wrong?”

You let out a long sigh - she knew you too well, you should have known she’d be able to tell your mood was off. “Larissa had to head back to Nevermore, something about Mayor Walker being hit by a car.”

The silence in the apartment was deafening - even Cassandra didn’t seem to know what to say to that, her brown eyes wide with shock. After a few moments, Robin stood from the couch and walked over, her arms crossed over her chest. “What?”

“He’s in critical condition, I guess. I dunno. It sounded pretty bad, Larissa seemed worried.”

“Jesus…”

“Yeah…”

Cassandra hesitated for a moment, then pulled you into another hug, this one much gentler than the last. “You wanna call her?”

“Later…” You bit your lip, knowing Larissa would probably be busy dealing with Wednesday and the sheriff for a few hours. You might as well try to distract yourself in the meantime. “Did you guys order food?”

Cassandra laughed at the way you peeked over her shoulder into the living room. “Yeah, there’s enough if you want some?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m starving.”

The rest of your evening was spent in the living room, eating Chinese takeout and relaying the details (well, some of the details) of your trip to your friends. The awkward air surrounding the mayor’s condition slowly dissipated as your friends huddled around your phone to scroll through pictures from the weekend - it wasn’t lost on Cassandra how half the pictures were candids of Larissa, and she couldn’t help but tease you about it. 

It was nearing midnight by the time you finished talking about the trip - you said goodnight to your roommates and hurried into your room, video calling Larissa before you’d even properly shut the door behind you and praying that she was still awake. She was, of course - she answered on the second ring. She appeared to still be sitting at her desk, her face illuminated by the cool glow of her laptop screen. 

“Riss, it’s a Sunday night. The emails will still be there tomorrow morning.” Your brows furrowed with worry, and Larissa afforded you a sheepish smile.

“I know.” She let out a heavy sigh. “I needed the distraction. I promise, I’ll go to bed after we call.” You gave her a look of warning, raising your eyebrow and causing her to blush and look down. 

“How are you doing?” you asked softly, getting comfortable on your stomach on the bed.

“I’ve been better,” she admitted quietly. “I’ve put Nevermore on lockdown. I don’t want my students roaming about Jericho, I couldn’t let something happen to them - not after this, not after what happened to Eugene…”

Larissa looked so worn down, so different from how she’d looked that very morning, that it made your heart hurt. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“I’m sorry our weekend ended on such a sour note, darling. I didn’t want it to end like this.” She bit her lip, a remorseful look crossing her face as she leaned back in her chair. 

“Hey, it’s alright, I promise.” You tried to get your voice as sincere as possible, not wanting to make Larissa feel any worse than she already did. “It’s not your fault, anyway. It doesn’t take away from the amazing weekend we had.”

“I had a lovely time,” she whispered, a soft smile briefly lighting up her features. “I don’t want you to think I’m sorry for taking the time off work - I would do it all over again to have that time together.”

Her comments were making you beam and blush like crazy, and you propped your chin up on your hand. “Am I crazy for missing you already?”

“If you’re crazy then I must be, as well.” The blonde let out a chuckle, shaking her head. “Would you like to come over tomorrow evening? I think I could use the company.”

Your answer, without a moment’s hesitation, was a resounding “yes” - it made Larissa smile and bite her lip. She told you she’d finish writing the email and then head to bed.

“Take care of yourself, Riss.”

Larissa’s face softened. “You too… and be careful, alright, darling?”

You could see the worry written across her face - it was heartbreaking to witness.

“I will. I promise. I love you, Riss.”

“I love you, too.”

x

Taglist: @littledollll @nlr-33 @mysaviorfalsegod @imlike-so-gaydude @rainbow-hedgehog @enchantressb @alder-saan @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @amateurwritescm @brienneswife @principal-weems09 @messynessi @larissaoftarthweems @anti-bright-places @lvinhs @catechristiesstuff @ladyzmilf002 @milfsloverblog @opheliauniverse @orangeisnttheonlyfruit @im-a-carnivorous-plant @alexusonfire @bigolgay @kimiinou @wastdstime @scream-queenlover @imprincipalweemspet @justcallmelittleone @willowshadenox @milfsloverblog @leftoverenvy @yahaqueen @peggycarter3 @lilfartbox1 @makemyworldworthliving @crow-raven-crow @mosscoveredcrucifix @opalthefrog @barbarasstar

Let me know in the comments if you'd like to removed from or added to the taglist <3

[phoenixshusband]

If you think Spider saved Quaritch for no reason you’re wrong, like entirely. Spider is 16. Keep that in mind for all of this. 16. Your brain finishes developing in your mid-20’s, Spider is still a teenager.

More below the cut cause I know people hate scrolling for ages through long text posts lol

Spider is a teenager that has grown up never fitting in, physically he’s human, but he’s grown up with the Na’vi and so the way he acts and thinks is that of the Na’vi. Because of this he simply will never fit in, he will always be an outsider no matter what he does. This is a child that is viewed as different and wrong in many ways, those he looks up to look down on him in all possible ways, quite literally treating him as a stray rather than a child. No, Neytiri and Jake have no obligation to raise or treat him like one of the family but as adults they do have an obligation to ensure a child is being raised right and being treated right, all adults have that no matter who they are.

So you take a child that feels like an outsider, doesn’t fit in, is mentally struggling and you have him kidnapped by the RDA and a man who is technically his father, have a guess what happens. Yeah, he gets more fucked up. I don’t know what the fuck that thought extractor machine thing is but it’s looks horrific, if Spider didn’t have epilepsy before I’m willing to bet he does now. And in this time of torture, imprisonment and fear it’s not Jake or anyone else from the camp that come save him, it’s Quaritch. Quaritch saves him, that instantly creates a bond as Quaritch gives him a freedom and safety he wouldn’t get otherwise.

With Quaritch Spider gets freedom, he can test the limits as all children will, he gets to ride on an ikran right at the front as though he was flying it, Spider gets to see even more of Pandora. Not to mention literally no one came for him, the adults (and I mean all of them not just the Jake and Neytiri) abandoned him despite knowing that the RDA is cruel enough to torture a child, they knew what he might be facing and they just left him. This kid must be in mental hell.

And it all crescendos when Neytiri tries to kill him. I do not care what you say Neytiri was justified in killing every single person on that ship brutally, they all deserved it but not Spider. He’s a teenager and innocent, she was not justified in doing that. I’m not here to shit on Neytiri though, she’s an incredibly complex and deep character written beautifully and I adore her, but that doesn’t mean wrongful actions can’t be recognised.

Which perfectly leads us to the moment. Spider is underwater, there isn’t time to think only time to act and Spider, traumatised and scared, does. And he does the stupid move of saving Quaritch. But as I’ve said he had a reason to do it, a motivation, just as Neytiri had one to put a blade to his neck.

Spider saving Quaritch does not represent the failings of his morals and his character but instead represent the failings of those around him, the scientists had an obligation to raise him and at the very least Jake had an obligation to ensure a child wasn’t being damaged mentally as he grew up, both failed in doing this and as a result a teenager was pushed to the point of breaking and he did.

Spider is not a bad kid. Neytiri is not a bad person. Jake is not a bad father. All of these can be true and so can the fact that they each did the wrong thing, and that’s a fact.

All it takes is:

Jake: Hey Norm, Spiders been hanging around the kids a lot more and I’m worried some issues might start developing, mind checking in on him?

Norm: Yeah sure Jake, no problem.

And then he talks to Spider and they can find a way to help him with his issues. That’s it! Easy.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

might be a controversial/unpopular opinion but i headcanon that any classic variant of sans has some sort of superiority complex going on. maybe not exactly that, but they're some flavor of self-righteous, i guess?

OKAY LISTEN. i'm not saying sans is a bad guy or anything (i love him very much i swear). canon sans is written really well in the sense that he's intentionally very vague and mysterious so we can speculate a lot on his past and intentions throughout the story. idk, maybe my reading is completely off but sans appears to me as a lovable asshole, especially to someone who is a child (frisk). he likes playing around with frisk - yeah it's harmless but still his advice tends to be vague, especially when it comes to battle tips lmao. just imagine in-universe how terrible his advice comes off to a child.

and like, the restaurant scene. sans is intentionally acting all blithe about letting a child die on his watch, under a promise - like i know it's supposed to be a funny off-hand comment to the player, but in-universe again he addresses this to a child. it's just- lmao this guy has some problems for sure.

i think being self-righteous is just tied to his role as a judge as well. he's always 'right' in his judgement, because that's what he is. i think it's just interesting to explore that particular aspect of sans' personality, that he acts in what he thinks is right, and he's always right, isn't he? maybe that's why i tend to enjoy undertale stories where sans somewhat assumes the role of the antagonist - it creates some fantastic dynamic with people around him who it seems like he never really connects well.

~ crowshipping anon

Crow!! Yayy!!

And I honestly kinda vibe with this interpretation honestly. I haven’t completely finished playing all the Undertale games myself (curse my lack of motivation 😭), but I watched a few playthroughs here and there, and it seems like something that could make sense.

Especially when he’s given such an important position like a being a Judge, his opinions and judgements are likely taken seriously by Asgore.

And the thing is, you can also make an argument for this with our most popular classic variants; the Murder Time Trio. Murder justifies what he does as being better that he does it instead of the human, justifies it with that he will eventually stop the human.

Really, he may even argue that his current actions don’t really even go against his job as the Judge; he has judged that the human must be stopped, and he has to do it because he’s the only one who can. I’ve even seen some ideas going around that maybe he views himself as the Angel from the Prophecy, having judged that the Underground will be free by death.

Horror is the entire reason his Underground started eating humans, and he is also the reason that the Core is damaged beyond repair. He didn’t want to sacrifice himself for the Underground, and he survived the event that took his eye, yet he still judged that Undyne and Alphys had to pay for their betrayal—and in doing so he decided that the rest of the Underground would be doomed to starvation or eating people.

He decided to trick Horror Papyrus into eating human meat even though Papyrus very clearly did not want to, and Horror doesn’t seem all too guilty about it—even as Papyrus goes out of his way to prevent Horror from eating humans at his own request.

I’ve even seen around by bigger Horror/Horrortale fans than me that Horror’s reasons for starving himself may not even be entirely selfless—such as for a moral reason or wanting others to have more food than him. But rather because he views it as beneath him and he won’t go “that low.” How canon that is, im not sure, but it’s interesting.

Then meanwhile there’s Killer. He sneers at Swap and threatens to kill him if he ever attempts to compare himself to Killer again, he holds the beliefs and mindsets of his human that were taught to him very closely and looks down on anyone who views things differently with contempt—especially if they attempt to “force” him to view things differently.

Things like mercy or kindness or hesitation are seen as weakness and things to take advantage of in his mind. Even himself is not free from this nihilistic, fatalistic, violence and apathetic driven worldview—-looking down on himself in Stage 1.

He will go out of his way to prove himself and his views right, even if that means doing exactly what Chara did and coercing/provoking someone into killing, attacking, hurting, etc, either themselves, others, or even him.

This is exactly what he was supposed to be, and it’s pointless to try and change or hope for anything more than what he or anyone else deserves. He probably finds Murder’s attempts to justify his genocides absolutely ridiculous. And Horror to be absolutely hypocritical. (Which is why Color’s specific way of approaching Stage 2, wanting to show him a better life—something new—rather than trying to change or fix him, worked so well.)

[cozy-the-overlord]

Free Fall

Summary: Tony Stark arranges for an Avengers Teambuilding Day at a local amusement park. Loki had been hoping to avoid it -- he's had enough thrills to last a lifetime, he has no desire to seek out more -- but you and your endearing enthusiasm for roller coasters convince him to come along. However, the free fall drop tower you start out with turns out to be a bit more thrilling than he bargained for.

Word Count: 3,482

Pairing: Loki x Gender Neutral Reader

A/N: Drags self out of the grave and awkwardly waves

So it's been a minute since I posted lol. Those of you who follow may be aware that I recently graduated from college with the Final Semester From Hell that involved my computer hard drive dying on me in class and causing me to lose not only forty pages of my honors thesis two weeks before it was due, but also almost every WIP I had been working on in the past four years because I am an idiot who chronically forgets to back things up :D I did make it through college, but between stress, burnout, depression, and the death of any motivation to work on anything because of having to restart from the beginning for all of my projects, I went a while without writing anything. But I'm slowly getting back into it -- I have several projects in the works and I'm hoping to get back to posting more regularly. This fic was a short piece that I had started prior to the computer death that I had a lot of physical notes on so they weren't lost when my hard drive decided to yeet itself into the sun. I'm not entirely happy with it, but honestly it feels so good to finally finish something that I don't care.

Anyways, sorry for the obnoxious A/N. Thank you so much for reading!

Warnings: PTSD, flashbacks, panic attack, a bit of motion sickness?

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname @electroma89 @lokislittlesigyn @moumouton4 @theredrenard @justdontmindmetm @lostgreekgod @naterson

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :) (I also realize that this taglist is Old so if I need to update it please let me know)

Read it on Ao3!

Standing in the shadow of the great tower, heart thudding in his throat, Loki is suddenly aware that he’s made an enormous mistake.

Next to him, Stark whistles. “This is what you usually start with?”

You grin up at the spire, a massive construction of electric green cutting through the cloudless sky. Two elevators, one on either side, are creeping slowly up the length of the tower. They linger at the top for just a moment before plunging back down to Earth, their occupants screaming. Loki feels ill just watching, but you’re practically vibrating in place. “It’s good to get the blood pumping.”

He can’t bring himself to look at you.

It’s your fault that he’s here. Loki hadn’t planned to come today at all. A day spent outside in the sweltering summer sun, following Stark’s gaggle of misfits onto various machines designed to fling mortals from side to side to simulate the feeling of a near death experience? Loki couldn’t imagine anything more torturous. Thor’s begging and cajoling received nothing in response. No, he hadn’t the slightest intention of coming today, not until last night, when he came across you restocking the main refrigerator.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?” you had asked as you arranged rows of Red Bull on the top shelf. “I can’t wait to take you guys around Rapid Rails—I’ve been begging Mr. Stark to do a teambuilding day there ever since he hired me.”

Your eagerness caught him off guard— as Stark’s personal assistant, you had been present at all of his godforsaken teambuilding events, but Loki had never known you to be particularly excited about any of them. “I … I wasn’t aware you had such an attachment to it.”

“Oh yeah—I grew up just down the street from there!” You beamed at him, breaking down the cardboard box you had used to carry the cans. “We used to have season passes – they were way cheaper when I was a kid – and we’d just go there to hang out all the time. Gosh it was so fun. And now I get to go for work!” You let out a merry laugh. “I guess some things never change, right?”

Loki huffed a soft chuckle. He had never seen you like this before, practically bubbling over in excitement. It was … rather endearing. “I suppose not.”

“You are coming, right? Thor said you hadn’t made up your mind yet.”

Were the circumstances different, Loki might have scoffed. Hadn’t made up your mind yet—Norns, his brother lived in denial. Instead though, he hesitated. “I … I’m afraid I hadn’t planned on it.”

“Really?” The way your face fell actually hurt his chest. “Why not?”

“I—” He glanced away, pressing his lips together. “I’m not sure I’m one for your roller coasters,” he said, finally. “You’d likely have a better time without me there.” It was an attempt at lightheartedness, but you only seemed more disappointed.

“Oh, that’s not true at all! I was really looking forward to—” you stopped suddenly, and when Loki looked up again, you were biting your lip with a nervous laugh. “I mean, it would be really fun if you came with us. But it’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“I suppose I could come, if you so desire.” He hoped he sounded nonchalantly cool, and that you couldn’t see the way his heart fluttered at the idea that you might want him there. “I wouldn’t wish to let you down.”

“Oh, I mean—” You looked away, the light from the refrigerator silhouetting your frame. “I don’t want to force you, if you don’t want to. You shouldn’t do it just for me.”

“No, I …” He inhaled, then smiled. “I think I would like to join you.”

And so here he is, at the base of this great metal monstrosity, intently studying the sign outside of the line entrance to avoid Thor’s knowing smirk. His brother has never worn self-satisfaction well.

DEATH DROP: THE TALLEST AND FASTEST DROP TOWER ON THE EAST COAST

 The description is illustrated with a photograph of two people strapped to their seats, mouths wide in mid-scream as their hair flies every which way. Loki lets out a shaky exhale as he reads. The tower, it claims, is 400 feet tall. It reaches top speeds of 85 miles per hour. The ride itself lasts about 90 seconds in total. The measuring stand besides the entrance indicates that participants must be at least 48 inches tall.

400 feet. That doesn’t sound too terrible, he tells himself. The concept of a foot as a unit of measurement is still something he struggles to wrap his head around, but he knows that Stark Tower stands at over a thousand. So that’s not too bad. 400 feet would be a drop in the bucket, really, compared to …

No. He pushes the thought down, back into the dark recesses of his memory. None of that. Not today.

Stark smirks at him. “You’re looking green, Tommy Wiseau.”

Loki swallows, straining to maintain his stiff mask of composure. It’s bad enough to have Stark reveling in his discomfort, but now you’re looking over at him too, brow furrowed in concern, and he wishes he could melt away on the spot. “I’m quite fine.”

“Of course he is!” Thor booms, slapping his shoulder with a hearty thwack that does nothing for Loki’s stomach. “We’ve fallen from much higher heights, haven’t we, brother?”

Weightless. Breathless. Engulfed by inky nothingness, the air so thin he can’t even scream —

Loki’s smile hurts. “Yes, very true.”

“You don’t have to go, Loki,” you interject. “It’s totally okay— I have friends who love roller coasters and refuse to touch this ride. It’s a lot.”

He knows you mean it as reassurance, but he can’t stand the way you’re looking at him, as if he were a frightened child, too fragile to be brought along. Are you regretting having convinced him to change his mind? Do you feel that he’s only holding you back? Somehow, the idea that you no longer want him here is almost as sickening as the thought of the fall.

Loki huffs a breath. No. He will prove himself worthy of your coaster. “I assure you, I am fine.” His voice is more strained than he’d prefer it to be. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

…

The attendant seems rather starstruck as he ushers the group onto the ride—he stumbles and stammers through the explanation of the seating arrangements and the harness. Loki’s not really listening as he follows you to the left side of the cart, trying not to ignore the buzzing that seems to be settling behind his ears.

You smile up at him. “Would you rather sit on the side or in the middle?”

He frowns. “Does it make a difference?”

“Well, personally I don’t think so, but I know some people who get scared of heights think it’s easier to sit in the middle.”

“I’m not scared of heights.” The words come out far too quickly to sound believable, and he curses inwardly at himself. “I can sit on the side.”

“Are you sure?”  You eye him uncertainly. “It’s okay if you—"

“I’m quite capable of managing such a seat.” He sits before you have the chance to question him again.

The seat is rather tight—Loki wonders if that’s intentional, or if it’s simply built with a smaller frame in mind. In the cart off to the right, he can hear Thor fumbling about with the attendant, and he chuckles despite himself. If he’s finding it to be a bit of a squeeze, he can’t imagine the troubles his bulky brother must be having.

It’s a momentary reprieve from his darker thoughts, and Loki is actually smiling when you warn him to sit back against the seat.

“The harness is going to be coming down soon.”

“What?”

You motion to the contraption above the cart, two plastic green masses shaped like upside down u’s that hover above your heads like the top of a clam shell. “It sits over you and keeps you from flying out of the cart.” You let out a small laugh. “It’s like the harnesses on the Quinjets, but way less cool. They also have little handles that you can hold on to if you want.”

Loki is eyeing the harnesses uncertainly. “What do you mean they’ll be coming down soon?”

“You used to have to pull it down yourself, but they have it all programmed now.” A great mechanical creak cracks through the air, and you press yourself against the back of the seat. “Oh, here it comes now!”

He frowns, mimicking your movement to sit as far back as he can. The green restraint descends slowly over his head, with a metallic groan that does not give him much faith in the construction of this monstrosity. He expects it to stop once it was hovering over his torso, but it continues until it’s pressed snuggly against his chest, pinning him to the seat. The attendant is saying something over the intercom, but Loki barely registers it over the feeling of the restraint. It’s … it’s not a painful sensation, but the firmness with which it holds … he’s been restrained before. Little flames of memory spark in the corners of his mind, flames he can’t seem to douse no matter how hard he tries.

Get it off. Get it off. Get it off.

He gives an apprehensive tug on the metal handles that now rest on either shoulder, a tug which quickly turns into a hard yank. The harness does not move. His mouth has gone dry.

“Loki?” you’re frowning at him, your head only barely visible through your own harness. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You’re not bothered by the restraint. Of course you aren’t—how many times did you say you’ve ridden this ride? It’s fine. It’s fine. Goodness, what must you think of him, seeing him panic over the safety harness that you’ve worn hundreds of times before for fun? He nods his head, shaking away the feelings and memories and emotions and all the other thoughts that he wishes he could just wash down the drain …

“Are you sure—?”

“Perfectly,” he spits, but it comes out more snappishly than he intended, and you recoil with a look on your face that makes him despise himself.

I shouldn’t be allowed to speak.

“And enjoy your ride!” the attendant finishes with a flourish, and the thick metal cranking is all the warning you get before the cart begins to lift off from the ground. Loki’s heart jumps to his throat, pounding so fast he can’t make out the separate beats.

“This part is the scariest bit,” you yell at him over the grinding of machinery. “The anticipation kills me!”

Loki inhales. The elevator continues to rise, inching up slowly along the spire, the ground beneath their feet melting into miniature. This is alright, he tells himself. If this is the worst part of the experience, then he’ll be just fine. There’s nothing particularly frightening about it—he spoke the truth when he told you that he had never been bothered by heights. It’s all perfectly fine.

Perfectly. Fine.

Norns, they’re still going up. He risks a glance at the track above him—surely they must be close now? The movement makes him queasy, and he quickly turns back to face straight ahead. His knuckles are white from clutching the handles. The harness is digging into his chest and it takes all of his self-control not to rip it off. The elevator stutters—is this it? His breath catches, but no, they’re still going up. They seem to be slowing down though, don’t they? Or is that only his imagination?

I’m going to be ill.

They’ve stopped. That’s not in his head. Everything seems frozen in place. Why did he agree to do this? Loki presses his eyes closed. Any moment now. Any moment …

Still nothing.

His chest aches. He may have forgotten to breathe. Why have they stopped? Is something wrong? Loki turns to you—you look ecstatic, eyes crinkled with elation, mouth wide in an open grin.

“When is it going to—”

You drop.

The world goes silent. He feels it, that awful sensation in his stomach as the line goes slack and colors rush before his eyes in a blur until it all fades to darkness, airlessness, weightlessness, his lungs burning and drowning on the empty void of space—he’s falling, he’s falling again, he’s falling again oh please Norns not again—

There’s ground beneath his feet. He’s not sure where it came from. His knuckles ache. You’re talking – to him? He’s not sure, he only barely can make out your voice …

“Loki? The harness is coming up. Can you let go?”

He’s still clinging to the handles. Can he let go? He’s not sure. His body feels like lead. He pries his fingers from the metal tube and the pressure against his chest vanishes with a woosh over his head.

“There you go.” Your voice is soft, encouraging, closer than he remembered. He looks up to find you kneeling on the ground before him. You flash a nervous smile. “You alright?”

He’s not sure what to say. His instinct is to apologize, insist that yes, of course, he’s quite alright, he didn’t mean to give any impression to the contrary, everything is fine, but the words catch in his throat.

stars melting together smothering his last breath

Loki lets out a shuddering breath, settles for a nod.

“What’s the hold-up?” Stark calls out. “Barton and Romanov are waiting with the kids on the other side of the park.”

“We’re just taking a break for a minute!” Your reply is hurried. “You guys can go on, we’ll meet you there.”

“Is something wrong?” Thor sounds concerned, and—oh great—now both him and Stark are walking over to their cart. “Loki? What happened?”

“I—” But words, so often his steadfast ally, seem to be failing him right now. What happened? He has no answer; at least, none that his brother would accept. For nothing had happened, not really, and yet that was enough to send him spiraling through the fabric of reality.

He hates this. He hates feeling so weak.

Stark is chuckling. “If I knew that this was all it took to shut him up, I would have rented this place out sooner—”

Enough.

Loki forces himself to stand – far too quickly, his stomach churns at the movement, but he swallows the bile in his throat. He needs to get away. It doesn’t matter how, but he needs to not be with them. Besides him, you scramble to your feet too.

“I’m well.” His voice doesn’t sound right—it feels foreign, and thick like syrup, nothing like his own. “You may go on without me.”

“Are you certain?” Thor is frowning. “We can wait—”

Please don’t.

“I’m certain. I just need to sit for a moment.”

“There’s a bench nearby!” You’ve taken on the same cheery inflection typical of your working voice, and it adds a sense of normalcy to a distinctly abnormal situation. He’s grateful for it. “I can show you where!”

Both Stark and his brother seem reluctant to leave, but you insist that it’s fine. “I’ll call you if anything changes.”

He feels slightly steadier as he follows you to the bench—it’s just a wooden thing on the side of the concrete path, across from what appears to be a diner of some sort. You mumble something about going to get water. It’s a relief when you turn away, so you don’t see how he collapses against the seat.

There’s ground beneath his feet. Loki closes his eyes, focuses on that. There’s ground beneath my feet. The asphalt is firm, hot with the summer sun, anchoring him to reality. He lets out a breath. It feels safe.

Unless, of course, it crumbles beneath your step and flings you back into the abyss –

“Hey.” He jerks up at the sound of your voice, and the suddenness causes you to jump as well. You shift apologetically, standing in front of him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Loki swallows. How did he not hear you come up? “You didn’t.” Although it must be obvious that you did. At least you’re kind enough to allow him the lie.

You offer him a plastic cup. It’s a flimsy thing, but quite cold, relieving against his feverish skin. He takes it with a mumbled thanks, pretending he doesn’t notice how you’re studying him with a quiet sort of concern.

“Are you feeling better?” you ask after a moment.

Loki bites down on the inside of his cheek, relishing the way it stings. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just – I mean – ” you glance down, tugging at your shirt sleeve. “I get panic attacks too.”

“I don’t—” But he stops himself, stops the urge to argue. Gives a gentle nod instead. “I’m well, thank you. I just … I need a moment to catch my breath.”

“I’m sorry …” You look away guiltily. “Death Drop is kind of a lot – we shouldn’t have done that first.”

“It’s not that. I –” He wants to explain to you. He wants you to know that he’s not usually like this—he never used to be like this, he’s strong and steady and perfectly capable of anything you could ask of him, but his voice is failing once again. Loki huffs a sigh. “You ought to go on with the others. I don’t wish to ruin your day.”

“Oh, you haven’t ruined anything. I’ve been on every ride in this park about a million times. It’s fine!” Your voice is bubbly and light as you sit down next to him on the bench. There’s something oddly comforting about the sound. “Besides, it’s bad etiquette to leave a friend by themselves at an amusement park. Buddy system and all that.”

A friend. He can only stare at you.

You falter. “Unless … unless you’d rather I left?”

“No—” Loki surprises himself with how quickly he answers. “No, I’d rather you didn’t.”

Several minutes pass in silence, the frantic beating of his heart slowly tapering off into something softer as he drinks in your presence. He’s grateful for it, grateful for how you let him soak in the quiet. Thor would never have allowed him such a moment’s peace.

 He’s considering asking if you’re sure you don’t want to go on any other coasters (he feels guilty for keeping you here—perhaps he can accompany you through the queue and wait on the ground?) when you suddenly sit up stock-straight. “Oh!”

Loki frowns. “Is something wrong?”

You turn to him with a wide grin. “I just remembered they have Dole Whip here!”

“They—what kind of whip?” What sort of ride would a whip be, he wonders? A human sized slingshot, perhaps? His stomach lurches at the thought.

Luckily though, he’s proved wrong. “Dole Whip!” you giggle. “It’s like ice cream, but fruit flavored. Like there’s pineapple and strawberry and whatnot—it’s like soft serve.” You look at him with a kind of hopeful excitement. “Do you want to try some?”

Loki hums. He has yet to try soft serve ice cream, but he knows his brother practically swears by the stuff. “Is it good?”

“Supposedly. I’ve actually never tried it— we never wanted to spend money on park food when we would come as kids. It’s stupid expensive.” You smirk. “But today’s all on Mr. Stark’s dime, so…”

He chuckles. “And you would take advantage of your employer in such a fashion? I didn’t realize I had such a Machiavellian on my hands.”

“Hey, I’m just taking advantage of the opportunities presented to me!” You stand with a grin, holding your hands up in a mock surrender pose. “You can’t blame me for that, can you?”

“Oh, I’d never,” he teases as he stands, and he’s relieved to find that his legs have regained their steadiness. “I’d be honored to experience this Dole Whip with you on Stark’s expense.”

“Fantastic,” you beam. “It’s not too far from here. And it’s right next to a bunch of these little shops—they have this ridiculous giant sea monster toy that costs like $300, I can show you—”

You continue on as the both of you walk down the path, telling him all about the park’s various hidden gems and the inside jokes you and your friends have concocted around them, and Loki finds himself laughing more than not—he can’t help it, your giggles are just too infectious.

Huh. Perhaps joining you today wasn’t a mistake after all.

[velvetnecklace]

A True Masterpiece

Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI - if you read this then I will come out from under your bed and haunt you for the rest of your lives. Unprotected p in v sex, semi-public sex, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, dirty words such as: ‘slut’, ‘princess’, ‘daddy, ‘cumslut’ and ‘fucktoy’ - Eddie is a nasty little fucker, dom!eddie x sub!reader, begging and taking Eddie’s virginity. If I’ve missed anything please let me know <3

Information: You and Eddie have been going strong now for a couple of weeks when you both decided that you can take it the next step of your relationship that leads to an awakening once you find yourself being pounded into by Eddie in the back of his van.

Word count: 1.6k

Reblog’s, like’s and comment’s are highly appreciated 🖤

You and Eddie Munson were the talk of the town ever since you both started dating each other, no one thought you were the other’s type but here you were proving everyone wrong. His friends never got enough of making fun of Eddie because of the amount of times they around make fun of him having a girlfriend that any of them would actually believed would happen in his lifetime.

Something about being with the man of your dreams felt different due to the fact that you weren’t a virgin and there was a rumor going around that you and Eddie had had sex yet - which was not true since you waited for the right moment to tell Eddie that you were ready to have sex with him.

The conversation of sex came up pretty often because of you knowing that Eddie was a virgin because he never would have thought that he could be able to pull someone as sexy as you to him, he was known quite clearly as the freak of Hawkins and that’s what drive you to him. The way that his curls always stuck to him whenever you saw him finish performing in the Hideout with the crowd going while to how he treated you like you were made to be a princess to which you had never felt like that way with a person before and Eddie was ticking all the right boxes.

Now here you were, in the back of Eddie’s van after a date on your back for him to give you oral for the first time ever - the occasion was special enough to get you motivated to shave a little so Eddie could experience more of you without your public hair getting in his way.

The erotic moans that left your mouth were making your spine shiver, never in your entire life has someone ever made you feel as good as Eddie did when his tongue grazed your clit; you threw your head back while your eyes rolled to the back of your head enjoying the sensation that was built up inside of you take fully control of how you felt and what you felt.

“Oh my god, fuck Eddie you feel so good sucking on my sore clit” you moaned out at him as you felt the speed of his tongue go at a faster pace to keep in time with the little moans and cusses that were leaving your mouth showing Eddie how much of a whore you were for him.

Eddie’s eyes were filled with pure lust as he stopped to take a minute before licking a strip of his saliva against your flaps to create more of a sensation on you to which you’ve never felt before in your life.

“Such a pretty pussy, m’ going to be stuffing her up soon with all my cum s’that she’s dripping down your leg with my cum.. d’you want me to do that to you princess?” Eddie practically looked at you when in reality, both of you knew what the answer was.

You had been waiting for this moment to come for a while and the nights you’d go home and masturbate yourself to the thought of Eddie’s fat length made you unable to speak. Instead it made you let out a groan as you heard what he initially wanted to do to you and your pussy - you knew that you wouldn’t be able to walk after Eddie was finished with you and you didn’t mind that.

It got to show everyone that you were Eddie’s and only Eddie’s, and that sort of possessive nature that you would find out that Eddie had was something that would get you turned on. Both of you made eye contact with one another and you saw from the corner of your eye; Eddie was unfastening his jeans so that his aching cock could spring out and give you the time of your life.

This gave you the perfect opportunity to play with yourself but then as soon as you started to touch yourself, going through your folds and moaning out Eddie’s name - he grabbed your hands and pinned them against your head so that you were his to use.

“Did I fucking say that you were allowed to touch yourself you cock slut?” The look in Eddie’s eyes turned you on even more than you already were as you struggled to find the words to tell him the answer to this question.

After a while, you got up the courage to spit out the words you deeply wanted to express.. “N-no daddy, you didn’t give me permission for me to touch myself and I’m sorry for doing that”

Eddie let out a laughs a to say that you didn’t mean the apology and it made you feel a bit stupid for how quickly he got you turned on. The thought of having sex in the back of Eddie’s van was filling you up with butterflies as well as some sort of excitement that was due to burst out at any moment now.

You could feel Eddie teasing you by rubbing his hardened cock against your soaking folds to your pussy as you wanted him to just shove himself in and out of you forever - you never got tired of Eddie and how he made you feel, sure, he did treat you like a princess in public but it was moments like these that made you crave how Eddie is really like in private.

Just you and him in the back of his van leading up to the tension of silence being popped by groans, moans, whimpers and begs while enjoying the view of Eddie pounding into you.

Meanwhile, without any sense of instructions by Eddie - you could feel his length fill the inside of your wet walls as he adjusted to the pressure of the way that your pussy felt, having him buried deep inside of you was heavenly and you crave for him even when you were both at high school because he was a good type of addiction that you were addicted to.

Being so caught up with your imagination you hadn’t even noticed that Eddie took himself out of you while he gave himself strokes to give himself pleasure, “oh what are we going to be doing with you my princess… you want to be daddy’s personalized cumslut where I’ll fuck my cum deep inside of you and you’re going to take it like the good girl we know you are” 

The dominance in Eddie’s tone of voice made you let out a loud whimper because it meant that he had all the control over you but that’s what you liked when it came to you and your partner fucking because it opened more doors into discovering new kinks with him and trying out positions you never thought you’d think of until you met Eddie.

The pace that Eddie’s hips were going in was rough and fast mixed in with every odd occasion he’d stop to buck his hips so that he could hit your g-spit every once in a while. “Such a good good girl for me, moaning my name, no, you’re practically screaming who you belong to. I might just shoot my load into you straight away without letting you cum; I bet you’d love me to do that to you, huh baby?”

There was a smug smirk on his face that you so wish you could wipe off but you were so driven by passion and determination to make Eddie be the first to cum while you could feel yourself building up to the pressure of releasing all of your juices onto Eddie’s cock.

“Daddy! Daddy! Oh fuck please let me cum, please please please I’ll still be your good girl!!” You threw your head back as you continued to beg Eddie while he was balls deep inside of you and not caring who the fuck heard your pathetic little moans.

You got so impatient that you started to rub your clit to speed the process up and you could care less about Eddie trying his best to stop you because you were focused on having the best orgasm of your life. Eddie could feel that you were getting close and closer to your release because your pussy became higher around his cock like a vice and it made him want to cum inside of you since you ands him go feral half the time with your clothes and the way you acted around other people sent him crazy for you.

“That’s it, be my good cumslut and cum for Daddy, show him how good of a slut you are for him” His hips started to buck as he squeezed his eyes shut, shooting his warm load into your walls while letting out loud moans and cusses of how good you feel when it’s your turn to cum.

You could feel it coming and when you heard Eddie use the words ‘cumslut’ and ‘daddy’ sent you over the edge and for one in your life; you had managed to have the best orgasm you could ever imagine yourself to have, it made you breathless as Eddie slipped himself out of you while both of you were trying to catch your breaths after s rough night if sex in his van.

“I love you Y/N” Eddie muttered the words as he brought you close to him

“I love you more Eds, forever and always…” 

You sighed happily as your boyfriend had just given you the best time of your life ever…

[khyys]

“Do you even know how to love?”

word count: 2990

content: 1st & 3rd divider by @/xurengu0 , 2nd divider by @/aquazero, 4th divider by @/anitalenia thank u guys :3. this is part two of “as dense as a rock” click this to read part one. farleigh start x fem!reader, saltburn spoilers, insinuations of spicy stuff, indications of 👃ing ❄️,

a/n: here’s part two! please enjoy. I’m sorry this took me so long to finish and post. School kicked my butt, then life, and it was just one after the other. But I’ve had a lot of motivation for writing, so I’ve been able to finish some projects, continue working projects, and make new projects! With all that being said, please enjoy! <3

You stared in awe at the request, and while it was a simple request, it was Farleigh you were talking about here, it was never *just* what he said it was.

After a few moments, the lack of sound became awkward and you cleared your throat before averting your gaze from his, and in record time too. You would stare for hours more if he let you, drowning in the warmth of him.

“Uh.. Yea. Sure, we can talk after dinner. Just, I don’t want to be out late. So this had better not take long.”, you sighed and made a step to wake past the taller.

As you walked, you could hear him following behind you at a rather long distance. Likely, he didn’t want to be seen late with you. You practically strutted into the dining hall, greeting Duncan with a nod and taking your place beside Venetia, who waved at you.

“Y/N, dear, are you alright?”, Elspeth asked, whilst nearing her glass to her lips. “The dress, dear, how do you like it?”

You smiled at the woman and straightened your posture, before nodding. Before you responded, the doors opened again and there he was. He took his place, across from you, beside Felix. You stared for a moment, whilst he thanked Duncan for filling his glass before turning to Elspeth again.

“The dress, yes, it’s perfect just as you said. It fits me perfectly, and I didn’t realize how well it fits the season.”

Elspeth smiled at your response, as if impressed by it.

“Wonderful. Please, try to get ample rest tonight, won’t you, dear? I have ordered a tailor to come and mend some dresses I used to wear back in the day. Is that alright with you?”

You opened your mouth to answer and caught Farleigh’s gaze on the corner of your eye, who’s cheek was stretching by the way his tongue pushed at his gums. He was expecting you to say something, and you were compelled to obey. You couldn’t imagine a world where you didn’t..

“Could we reschedule it? I.. I- I’d wanted to try and contact my family, and I want to make sure I tell them everything! I don’t want to forget a single detail.”

Elspeth thought for a moment, and sighed.

“Yes, I see. You are from America, perhaps Farleigh will be of assistance then. He is from there, but his time at Saltburn is practically unmeasurable. Farleigh, you’ll help Y/N with her letter to her parents, yes? Perhaps, you’ll even contact your mother, it’s been a while.”

Farleigh clearly hadn’t been listening, because his gaze was still fixed on you. Focused even, it made your heart stop. Felix had probably kicked his leg or something, because it was almost as if he was woken from a trance and nodded, smiling at Elspeth.

“I’ll help her, auntie. She’ll be just fine.”

“I’d hope so.”, she said with a nod and turned her attention to Duncan. “We’re ready to eat.”

“Understood, I will begin serving.”, he said in a deadpan tone.

Dinner went as it usually did. You held conversation with Venetia, laughing like two preschool girls. Felix maintained conversation with Farleigh, but no matter what, you felt his eyes boring holes in your skin. You and James, or Mr. Catton, had shared a few words about your previous meeting in his study, discussing his businesses.

The food, per usual, was cooked to utter perfection and you enjoyed it just as you had the entire summer. However, you couldn’t help that you were being watched. Sure, you didn’t eat like everyone else but nobody cared. That is until you looked up and saw him, eyeballing the way the prongs of your fork disappeared in between your plush lips. You stared back at him, arching a brow. In response, he only smiled.

This was some game to him, and part of you loved the thrill, but it wasn’t all that enticing. You were set, confident, that Farleigh had no interest in you. No serious interest, that is. You still held a small anger towards him for accusing you of wanting to get with Felix. You and Felix were friends, but anything beyond that just didn’t seem in the cards for you.

You knew that for a fact when you considered devising a plan to make him jealous, but that only sounded even more childish. You couldn’t believe how hellbent you were. All over the likes of Farleigh… All over a 6’5, slender, curly haired beauty… With the voice that would make an angel cry. It sure made you cry, because you couldn’t have it.

After dinner and dessert, you had tried to prolong leaving the table as much as you could. Part of you was eager to get up and excuse yourself from dinner, but being alone with Farleigh was something that you weren’t sure about completely. Even the way he slouched in his seat made you slightly nervous.

First Felix, then Venetia, Elspeth was the last to leave the table that night and all that was left was you, and him. You stared at the cloth of the table, evading his direct gaze before lowering your glass for the final time. The silence was starting to cause a small ringing in your ears, but he shifted and leaned forward, with a stupidly adorable grin on his face.

“Are you finally done avoiding me? Or can you fit more dessert?”

You grumbled and grabbed your purse before standing up and turning to the exit. What were you doing? You said you’d talk after dinner, where were you going?! You didn’t know.. maybe you thought if he really wanted to talk to you, he’d come for you. He’d chase you like a beast, trying to catch that one meal.. that got away.

You expected it, nonetheless. Farleigh loved games, and he was never one to back down from a challenge. You traversed the hallways, listening to excited and hushed chuckles trailing behind you. His presence made the hairs on your nape stand at attention, before you felt warm hands on your wrist.

“Trying to run away, hm? I thought you said we’d talk…”, he gave you that teasing pouty face. The one that made you want to slap him and then kiss him all better. “Is it because I called you a whore for my cousin?”

You stared at him and snatched your wrist from him.

“I am not trying to run away. I… What do you want?”, you asked. Your tone was cold, and you spoke with a sort of exasperation.

“I want to talk. Outside.”

“Right here is just fine, Farleigh. It’s cold, and I don’t want this dress getting messed up.”

Farleigh watched you for a moment, and bent down, being now only a couple of inches from your face. His eyes stared into yours and you averted him, like oil and water. You could feel his breath on your lips, and you’re sure he could feel your breath on his.

You couldn’t deviate much longer, until you met his gaze. Once you were in, he locked you in. You couldn’t turn your head, were you scared too? Did he really have that big of a grip on you?

“Do you really want to do this here? Anybody could see us, hell, Felix could walk out of his room now.. and see his new toy becoming *my* new toy.”

The breath in your chest was gone, and you couldn’t inhale for any. You stood there, unresponsive and wide-eyed like a deer in headlights.

Maybe he was trying to get a response out of you because he edged closer, his gaze moving down to your lips. With a swift hand movement, you grabbed his hair and moved his head aside. He hissed and whined slightly, before you quickly released his hair.

“I’m- shit! I’m sorry!”

He returned to his full height and rubbed his head, checking his fingers for any blood before hooking a finger under your chin and moving you closer to him.

“You’re a kinky one, aren’t you? Really. I think Felix might like you!”

Your look of concern and worry turned to once of dullness and a slight rage. You bit your tongue, and brushed your eyelashes with the pad of your finger before turning around.

“Let’s go. We are going to talk, and that’s it. Do I make myself perfectly fucking clear?”

Farleigh practically jumped to your side and offered his arm with a cheesy grin, before you looked at him for a split second and continued walking and you could hear the defeated sigh behind which caused a small grin to appear on your face.

Outside, the air was brisk and cold, causing a shiver to cree up your spine. You didn’t want to be outside like this. Your dress was spaghetti strapped which still tended to slide off every now and then. You stared up at the moon, and sighed. Saltburn was beautiful at night, like a dreamland, almost.

“Do you think.. I’m stupid, Y/N?”

What a way to ruin such a majestic moment… You turned to face the taller and arched your brow.

“What are you on about, Farleigh? What kind of question is that?”

“A simple one. Now answer me, do you think that I am stupid?”, he repeated in a low tone, as if demanding you.

You were slightly taken aback by his tone and shift of mood, before he moved ahead. He walked down the stairs and before he could get too far, he turned back and gestured for you to follow him.

As if being pulled by a string, you followed behind him and tried to catch up to him. His long strides were equivalent to about three of your steps, so you lifted your dress as to avoid any collateral to the dramatic fabrics, before falling a step behind the male.

Where he was going, you could’ve say… He could be trying to pull you into the fields, or.. go skinny dipping in the pool?

“A little fiend, with the habit of smoking and using cheap perfume to cover it up, told me… that I could be so stupid”, he started. “Pfft, she didn’t even stop there. She said I was clueless, oblivious! I just have to know, is that what you two giggle about all the time?”

Your lips straightened tightly as the response, as you lowered your head. You felt cornered in the wide yard of Saltburn. You knew Venetia would eventually sing like a bird.. but she sung in riddle, so maybe Farleigh wasn’t.. because he didn’t ask anybody else, or not that you knew of, but he certainly asked you, and to go this far, it’s something serious, right? Like your feelings for him..

Before you knew it, you were walking into the maze. You hated mazes. Ever since the big accident when you were six, you couldn’t stand a maze. You never dared set foot in another one, but you just couldn’t stop following him. It’s like he had a leash around your throat, and even if you tried to defy his motion, he’d still just pull you along. But you trusted something in Farleigh.

When the four of you had spent the night in the field, you all told each other your childish fears. Felix was afraid of doppelgängers, Venetia was afraid of ugliness, oddly similar to her mother, and Farleigh.. well.. he didn’t really answer. He said he was afraid of not having enough to sniff, but that just didn’t seem genuine, and yet even now, you trusted him with your darkest fear.

It felt likes dreary hours of walking had passed you by before you were met with a menacing figure that was stationed atop a stone pedestal. Farleigh stood at a distance, staring up at the still depiction. It was creepy, almost as if Farleigh and the being shared a conversation. You stood only a step behind the taller, hands resting at your side.

The tension was thick, you could tell. He had asked you so many questions thus far, it was so clear that he wanted a direct answer for once…

“I don’t think you’re stupid… but, you are.. really oblivious.”, you sighed and began to pick at your nails, a nervous habit you’ve had since sophomore year of highschool. “Farleigh.. I have.. never, ever wanted Felix. He will always be a friend.”

He glanced back, a stupid grin on his face followed by a snicker.

“Then what did you want? Don’t tell me you did all this to get up under Uncle? Or rather.. on top of Uncle..”

Your expression soured and you huffed, dropping your hands back down to your side. You wanted to cry, being reminded of that nauseating embarrassment. Being teased and made fun of, especially when it was funny.

Without a thought, you moved in front of him to which his eyes fell to yours, and by surprise, you weren’t bewitched. You pointed your finger at him, before repeatedly poking at his chest.

“You half witted, dense motherrfucker! Goddamnit, Farleigh! You, I wanted you! All this time, I wanted Felix to be friends with me so I could get to you! I’ve liked you since we got assigned that reading project! Even after you treated me like shit! You got me wasted as fuck, and then.. you.. you fucking left me to do it all alone! Ugh! You are so self absorbed and inconsiderate. God, Farleigh! I hate you!”

Each word poured out of your mouth like a never ending bottle of wine, tainted with the spices of your passionate emotion and raw feeling. You panted as you finished, realizing you hadn’t breathed once after all of that. You could feel his eyes on you, and when you looked up, he seemed calm. It was unsettling.

He was just.. staring at you with a mellowed smirk. You hated it, and yet you wanted to kiss him so badly. You wanted to lock your lips with his, having always wondered what they could possibly taste like. Would they send you on a high? Would they be as bitter as his tongue?

As if he read your mind, he stepped closer. You stepped back. He stepped closer again, and you stepped back. This time, whilst he stepped, he grabbed your hand and interlocked his large digits with yours. You tried to step back, but you were met with the cold stone of the statue, not daring to look up.

He leaned closer towards you, this time leaning down. You could feel his breath against your lips. You.. really wanted to kiss him.

“If you wanted me, then why didn’t you just say that?”, he asked softly.

He moved closer, but instead you turned your head from him. It was.. odd. You’d wanted this. You wanted his attention. You wanted him to care. You wanted him to react. You wanted him to like you, and that’s what stopped you. Did he even like you?

“I… I don’t want you to do this.”

“Do what? If anything, I thought you’d want me to kiss you.”, he said and detached from your hand, and instead grasped your chin, using his thumb to caress your bottom lip. “Isn’t that what you wanted from all this?”

“I do.. it’s just. Do you want this?”, you asked in a soft, inquiring tone.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want me too? Don’t just.. kiss me because I want it. Kiss me because.. you’ve been thinking about my lips the way that I’ve thought about yours.. I don’t want this, I don’t want us to be forced because of my desires. Farleigh, I want you to want me. I want you to love me..”

You hadn’t realized it until the wind blew, as if a warning for what you’d just said. You used the L word, but you were sure Farleigh knew what you meant, right?

“Fuck, you sound like a lovesick puppy. If I’d known you wanted me this badly, I’d have skipped all the other bullshit..”

You sighed and chewed on your bottom lip, looking at him. Begging for a genuine response. You wanted to know. Did he even feel a slight spark? Anything? But.. he said nothing. He just stared into your eyes, almost with something of an apathy for your emotions. It made you want to cry, and you did. Your eyes got glossy and stung from the cold air, as you searched for anything in his eyes. A feeling, a thought, anything. But there was nothing.

“Just… forget… I.. just forget I said anything..”, you mumbled shakily, and moved past him. You started to walk away, until you felt an arm grab your hand, pull you in, and hold your arm.

“What if I said I did love you?”

You sniffled, refusing to look into his eyes again. You knew you’d fall under his spell in a matter of seconds of looking. You didn’t want to fall for it anymore, you couldn’t. It hurt too much.

“You can’t just say it, Farleigh. You have to mean it, with everything. You have to be so sure, more sure about it than your own name, that you love me.”

For a moment , it was silent whilst the two of you stood there. You shivered and shook, wiping your eyes and breathing softly. You didn’t want to, but you looked up to try and assess him. This time his expression made it worse.

He looked confused; perplexed; simply dumbfounded. That made your blood boil with anger, and you felt nothing but pure humiliation. You stared and snatched your arm from him, slowly stepping back. The words were there and they banged against your lips, begging for you to let them fly, be free of their cage.

“…D..— Do you even know how to love?!”

THE END.

[mamamittens]

Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Thatch +18 AU End)

As requested on AO3 by snowflakebeads and likely someone else I can't remember. AU end for Oh, Sweet Child of Mine.

Thatch X GN!Reader

Warnings: Yandere/obsessive/possessive behavior, marathon sex, aphrodisiac, dubious consent, unprotected sex, oral (reader recieving), food play, creampie, and cock warming.

Word Count: 2,533

Thatch had been suspiciously eager to try out a new recipe. Insistent, in fact, that it be a bonding moment for the both of you.

It was weird because from how he described it, it just seemed like a chocolate cake. He did allude to a ‘secret’ ingredient but besides that… yeah. Just a chocolate cake. You glared at him as he cozied up to your side to beg for an afternoon with him. Arm thrown over your shoulder as he whined about feeling ‘neglected’.

“You spend so much time with Ace and Marco~! You’ve gone and left poor old me behind! Can’t you spare just a few hours for a lonely man?” Thatch begged softly.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Maybe if you weren’t being so weird, I would.” You hissed, poking his side only to receive a light jerk away from you. Thatch pouted. “Why now suddenly? You weren’t so ‘neglected’ yesterday.” You added with clear suspicion. Thatch grimaced sheepishly.

“Well…” He started. “I just got in a new ingredient that would be just the thing! And I wanted to try it with you!” You stared at him for a long moment.

He… seemed sincere. And he’d always been a little weird about spending time with you. It couldn’t be too bad or Marco would have came over to smack him for being pushy.

“…Fine.” Thatch lit up, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his cheek.

“Great! Meet me in the kitchen after dinner! We’ll bake a cake together!” Thatch cheered. You smiled wearily at him, still suspicious of his motives.

What kind of secret ingredient could he have been waiting for?

Guess you’d… find out?

The entire dinner that afternoon, Thatch kept looking over to make sure you were still there. Ignoring the teasing he received from his fellow chefs and, occasionally, Ace.

“I’ve never seen him this excited before.” Ace laughed. “What are you guys even doing? I heard he’d made his division clean up after themselves more than usual to make sure the kitchen was clean early.”

You frowned at that.

“Honestly? We’re baking a cake? I don’t know why he’s making it so weird though.” You mused. Ace lit up, looking excited. “Don’t even think about it. I just know he’d kick your ass for ‘intruding on our bonding time’.” You laughed as Ace pouted.

“Aw, come one! I’d take just a spoonful! You’d never know it was dirty, I swear!” Ace whined and you jumped as a warm hand fell onto your shoulder firmly.

“ACK!” You spun around to find Thatch standing there with a wide grin.

“Not a chance in hell! Maybe next time~!” Thatch denied Ace instantly with a strange gleam in his eye.

“Ah, that time already?” You asked and Thatch nodded.

“Yep. C’mon, we’re going to my personal kitchen. It’ll be over an hour before they finish cleaning the main one.” Thatch commented. You frowned.

“You have a personal kitchen?” You asked and Thatch laughed.

“Yeah, for testing recipes when I can’t trust some people to not interrupt or sneak some away. Thick door that locks and everything!” Thatch declared.

Well, with hungry bastards like Ace, you supposed some extreme measures needed to be taken when it comes to food.

The ‘personal kitchen’ was pretty deep in the ship. Closer to the storage areas than any main living quarters. And a ways off from the main kitchens. Definitely not somewhere you end up by accident if you want food. The promised door indeed thick and with a heavy lock.

Thatch slipped a key from around his neck and opened it for you, locking it back behind him before stowing away the key.

This kitchen was fairly reasonable in size. More like one you’d find in a house than one meant to feed the insane amount of people on board. Big enough for maybe four cooks to move around in and brush shoulders but that was about it. An array of ingredients already laid out, including a jar of thick, rose gold liquid.

“Ah, that your ‘secret ingredient’?” You asked, approaching the clear jar. “I was wondering what a chocolate cake could be missing… mixed honey?” You picked it up, the heavy glass jar plucked from you hands.

“Oop! No, no! No touching! Took a long time to get my hands on this beauty! It is honey, though. Specialty honey from near a particular harvest of flowers. Changes the flavor profile quite a bit.” Thatch declared proudly.

“Ah… what kind of recipe for chocolate cake calls for honey though?” You asked.

“Honey cake, of course!” Thatch declared. “Now, onto the mixing while the oven preheats!”  Thatch handed you a bowl and dumped mix into it along with eggs and a very cautious measurement of honey. Dutifully, you mixed it.

“No sugar?”

“Nope! That’s what the honey is for!” Thatch cheered, watching as you mixed it all together.

“You know, this is a pretty simple task. Are you sure you even needed me for this?” You asked as the dry mix turned into a thick sludge.

He laughed.

“Well, it’s about an hour of time with you until we can enjoy a nice dessert to ourselves!” Thatch shrugged.

He had a point. If it was so hard to get the honey, it would likely be impossible to make this cake for the whole crew.

“Thanks for inviting me then, I guess.” You sighed, your arms starting to ache. Thatch plucked it from you and set it onto the counter, pulling out the cake pans. He spread butter on them and distributed the thick mixture equally.

Barely fifteen minutes and they were in the oven to bake. Thatch must have been desperate for bonding time if baking a cake is all he could think of.

“Well, are you ready for the best part?” Thatch asked coyly, presenting the mixing bowl and two spoons.

“Isn’t that how you get salmonella?” You asked as you took a spoon with a smile.

“Haven’t gotten sick yet!” Thatch countered, scraping a spoonful of chocolate batter, but his eyes were on you as you tasted it.

It was delicious, of course. Sweet and rich from the chocolate. An odd, warm and tangy after taste that reminded you vaguely of honey.

“Mm! It’s good. Think it’ll be even better when it’s done baking?” You asked taking another spoonful as Thatch finally dug in himself. He looked oddly smug.

“I bet it will.” Thatch responded simply as you huffed, feeling a tad flush. Maybe from the vigorous mixing you did.

You frowned, noticing how clean the bowl was now. The batter was too damn good to be raw. And you felt hot. Your skin tingly, particularly your lips and lower body.

“Hey Thatch, what kind of honey was that again?” You asked faintly, setting your spoon in the sink. Thatch came up behind you, pressing into your back as he placed the bowl in the sink and poured water into it. His breath washing over your neck as he leaned in close.

“I already told you. Specialty honey.” Thatch breathed. “Why? You feel something?” His damp hands settled on your waist.

Specialty honey?

“T-Thatch, was that… spiced honey?” You asked breathlessly, feeling the heat growing inside you as his touch felt electric where his fingertips brushed under your shirt.

“Hmm, so you’ve heard of it before, huh?” Thatch asked in amusement. Setting the jar on the counter and popping the lid. His fingertips gliding across the surface and scooping up the thickness. It was a considerable amount as his other arm wrapped around your waist. The honey covered fingers pressing against your lips, sliding over your tongue as you panted. “Not as sweet as you though, look at that~ Eat up, I got it just for you~” Thatch cooed as you sucked his fingers. The honey much more potent in it's raw form.

He pulled his fingers free and licked what little was left. Ducking his head to kiss you breathless. You couldn’t help squirming against him as he pinned you to the counter, tongue running over your mouth like he was chasing the lingering taste of chocolate and honey before pulling away.

He grabbed another spoon and scooped up a generous amount. This time drizzling it onto his tongue before pulling open your mouth. Sliding the mouthful of honey directly into yours, smearing it onto your tongue and down your throat as you both moaned. The heat only getting worse as you swallowed.

“T-Thatch! D-Dirty ass trick—” You whined, tugging on his shirt as he laughed.

“But worth it to have you fall apart in my arms like this. Here, one more for the road. Don’t swallow though. Keep it warm for me~” Thatch scooped up another spoonful with honeycomb and placed it in your mouth. You sucked on the silverware as he lifted you up and placed your front on the counter. “I hear eating the honeycomb makes you go mad with lust.” Thatch stabbed his own section of honeycomb and ate it. Before returning the spoon and ducking behind you. His hands hot on your waist as he pulled down your pants.

When you were bare, your toes barely scrapping the floor, he pulled apart your thighs and licked up the soft skin. You could only moan as you sucked on metal and honey, his hot breath washing over your sensitive skin. Wet tongue laving to your entrance. Pressing in softly as you whined, honeyed drool seeping from your lips as every touch electrified you.

He spread apart your walls eagerly, like he’d get more honey if he just pressed his tongue deeper. Lapping at your quivering hole as you whined, pinned in place for his hunger.

“So damn sweet, knew this was a good idea. Glad I kept this just to us, aren’t you? Wouldn’t want to share this sweetness with anyone else.” Thatch swore softly against your clenching hole as you came suddenly, cum spurting down your thighs as he licked up the mess. “Better than the batter~” Thatch kissed your entrance deeply, spreading apart your cheeks as he dug into your overstimulated walls.

The honey quickly watering down in your mouth as your face tingled in the smearing aphrodisiac.

Thatch kept going, his appetite incapable of being satiated as you came so easily on his tongue and fingers. Spreading you open to blow across the heated flesh teasingly. Each orgasm coming along faster as the heat continued to build, sensitivity growing between your thighs as his honeyed lips spread the effect.

There was a ding and Thatch paused, a deep growl vibrating against you as you were pushed over the edge again with a muffled cry.

Thatch pulled away with a curse, leaving you cold and shaking as he took out the cake pans to cool.

Before you could turn around though, Thatch’s heat was back and his cock pressed against your sopping entrance. Slipping in easily to the hilt as you gasped, spitting out the spoon and what was left of the honey.

“A-Ah~!” You panted, your face pressed against the hot counter into the pool of thick, pink tinted drool.

“D-Don’t be wasteful!” Thatch tsked at you while you whined back at him. His balls smacking into your thighs as he started to fuck you hard. “Go on! Clean it up or you won’t get any cake either!” Thatch scooped up the honeycomb and pressed it onto your loose tongue. Your lips sucking on his fingers as he rubbed it to the back of your mouth.

Thatch pulled his hand away to adjust you further up, shoving your face into the cold puddle to lap at it. Your face tingling at the exposure as you obeyed, moaning with every wet slap of his hips. The watered down honey still so sweet and hot as you licked it up. Thatch’s hands rubbing your sides and slapping your ass hard when you stopped to breath.

“Ah! T-Thatch~! P-Please~! Ooooh~!” You drooled onto the counter as his cock brushed just right against your walls, sending shockwaves through your whole body. Thatch leaned over your back, grinding that spot as you cried out in overstimulation.

“Please what, baby?” Thatch huffed, licking up the mess and following it to your panting lips. “What do you need from me?”

“M-More! More, please more, Thatch! H-Harder! A-Ahhn~! Oh! OH! O-OHHH!” You wailed as Thatch grabbed your waist in a bruising grip and fucked you as requested.

“Fucking gladly!” Thatch grunted, the kitchen echoing with the sound of wet smacks. His lips brushing over yours as you moaned under the relentless assault, body burning for more. Thatch slammed into place suddenly, shoving your hips against the counter as he came in a hot burst of thick cum. Grinding harshly for barely a moment before going back to his frantic pace, cock still spurting cum down your thighs. “Y-You know, the seller warned me the effects could last for hours~ w-with just a spoonful!” Thatch chuckled against your lips.

You whined.

“H-Hours!?” You keened, trembling against him as you came on his cock.

“Hours~!” Thatch cooed. “And we still have a whole cake!” Not pausing as his cock jerked with a fresh wave of cum again.

“Th-Th-ThA-AAHcH~!” You wailed, cumming hard as he laughed.

Thatch laughed again as you whined, sitting on the counter as he fed you cake. You squirming on his cock as he fucked your sopping, wet entrance gently.

“Every bite, babycakes~! If you leave it to just me, you won’t be walking for weeks~!” Thatch cooed, eating a bite of cake covered in a thin layer of honey and powdered sugar. “M-Mmmm, break!” Thatch put aside the fork and plate, grabbing your hips to bounce you on his thick cock. A thick spurt of cum dripping down his thighs and balls to the counter.

“O-Oh! T-Thatch~!” You whined, leaning back against him and raking your nails across his shoulders as you squirmed. The heat unbearable in your blood. “M-More~!”

Thatch grinned, kissing your wet cheek as he fucked you harder. Not in the mood to make you beg. This time.

Your eyes sliding over the two-tiered cake barely eaten. Thatch had made it clear neither of you were leaving until it was all gone. Unwilling to share the delicacy with anyone else.

“More honey? Sure thing, baby~!” Thatch scooped up some honey from the jar and smeared it on your hanging tongue. “My, you’re so hungry, maybe we should make another one?” he teased as you wailed, a fresh wave of arousal surging through you and down his thighs.

“Tha-ahhcht~!” he laughed, groaning as he shot another round of warm cum into your.

“M-Maybe this should have been shared with more people…” Thatch chuckled. “But I can’t imagine sharing you, baby! So, I guess we’ll just have to power through it together.” He cooed, kissing your bruised neck as his pace slowed. Finally letting you rest against him despite the raging arousal inside you, his cock still hard and pulsing.

He picked up the cake again and you whined. Torn between exhaustion and excitement—though how much was natural was heavily debatable.

Regardless, you weren’t complaining.

[throneofsapphics]

Omgoshhh I absolutely love "have your little girlfriend"! You wrote them SO PERFECTLY! Do you think you'd ever write like a part 2??? Like just imagine the angst of the reader maybe not knowing what they are with both rowan and aelin and the makeup after 🥹🩷 UGHHH sorry you literally just got my brain running so fast! Ahaha regardless you're an AMAZING writer 🩷🥰 and I will continue eating up your rowaelin fics

have your little girlfriend, part two

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: “Yes, chocolate generally is.” Before she knew what she was doing, she leaned over and wiped a small smear from the corner of his mouth. He froze completely, with that immortal, preternatural stillness. “Just like Aelin,” 

“What’s just like Aelin?” The door pushed open, and she pulled her hand away - the moment lost.

Word Count: ~4.7k 

Warnings: smut, angst, a bit of dubcon, dark aelin/rowan, insecurities, this turned darker, minors dni!

A/N: how did you read my mind?? I've been planning this. It turned into a bit of a monster and I have a part 3 in progress. this is one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. thank you so so much for requesting it, it gave me the extra motivation to finish! also please read the warnings, it took a bit of a darker turn!

series masterlist

Despite the time Aelin let Rowan, ‘fuck me like a brat’, Gods that repeated in her head more than it should have, I mostly still spent time with Aelin, Rowan making an occasional experience, but nothing like that occurrence. He did watch, sometimes, but never touched her. Maybe that was Aelin’s orders. Still, he showed less and less. Y/n would’ve expected the opposite after what happened, but it turned into her seeing him once a month. Maybe. 

-

She heard the front door creak open, she’d been expecting Aelin to come by. 

“I’ve been testing these new ones, for you to-” Y/n turned, and it wasn’t Aelin standing in the door. Rowan was there. She startled enough the plate in her hands dropped, but a breeze caught it, lowering it gently to the table. 

“Not who you were expecting?” He tilted his head, a small smile on his lips. 

“No,” she said sheepishly, her cheeks flushing. “But not an unwelcome surprise.” 

“Aelin’s running late.” His lips pressed together, like he was fighting a smile. “What are those?” He nudged towards the chocolates sitting on the table. Chocolate and cherry truffles, something new you’d been experimenting with. 

“Chocolate and cherry truffles, I don’t suppose you’d be interested?” 

His nose crinkled slightly. Aelin told her the story of the cake she made one time, and y/n had howled with laughter. Flicking Aelin’s nose when she pouted, and promised to teach her how to make one that wouldn’t make her throw up. 

“If you swear that Aelin didn’t help.” 

“She’s only my test taster.” She promised him, and he carefully picked one up. Aelin is only her taste tester for a reason. The cake teaching lesson turned into a bit of a disaster, flour thrown across her kitchen, things spilled everywhere - an egg cracked onto the counter instead of in the bowl. She had a lot of patience, and it took a lot for her temper to flare, but after the egg she ordered Aelin to go sit on the couch. And she did, making comments the entire time. About how nice her ass looked, about how pretty her lips were, about how she’s sweet.” 

He ate the entire thing, and didn’t look disgusted by it, so she took that as a good sign. “It’s sweet.” 

“Yes, chocolate generally is.” Before she knew what she was doing, she leaned over and wiped a small smear from the corner of his mouth. He froze completely, with that immortal, preternatural stillness. “Just like Aelin,” 

“What’s just like Aelin?” The door pushed open, and she pulled her hand away - the moment lost. 

Aelin’s eyes lit up as she saw the plate of chocolates on the table, her question forgotten. “Did you convince him to eat one?” 

Y/n leaned back against the counter. “He said it’s sweet.” 

Aelin scowled at him, before sniffing. “He has no taste, don’t mind him darling.” 

Rowan looked vaguely offended, but glanced back and forth between the two of them. “I’d say my taste is just fine.” 

Aelin ignored him, heading right for the plate, and picking one up, “aren’t you going to ask what they are?” Rowan questioned her. 

“Don’t care.” She popped it in her mouth, letting out an obnoxious, over the top moan. 

Rowan rolled his eyes and turned to y/n, “is she always like this?” 

“Yes,” she answered, but with a fond smile on her face. 

-

Aelin narrowed her eyes at the two of them. Something had happened, some sort of exchange between them in the less than ten minutes they’d been alone together. Rowan noticed the look on her face, but y/n had turned back around again, fiddling with something. Washing dishes, she realized, and she strode forwards to help, nudging her hip against the female’s, drawing a chuckle out of her. 

She questioned Rowan later - on what exactly happened. 

-

One night she came in, a bit tipsy, spotting Aelin stretched out like a cat, half-empty wine glass on the table next to her. The cover of her book, and arousal flooding through the room made it very obvious what she’d been reading. And Rowan - sitting in an armchair near the fire. The situation made it clear they’ve been waiting for her, and that Aelin has a plan. 

“What are you reading?” She asked anyway as her pulse quickened. Aelin’s eyes met her own and she gestured for her to come closer. 

Y/n did, and curled up next to Aelin, who’d closed the book, pinned one page with her finger. 

“They used to date, and broke up a year ago. They were supposed to be on a vacation with a circle of their friends, but ended up snowed into the cabin before the others could arrive.” She flipped the book open, pushing it into her hands. “Read for me.” 

Y/n gulped, but started reading, “her mouth finding the crook between my shoulder and neck for ..” Her face flushed red and she paused as Aelin’s lips brushed her shoulder. 

“Keep reading.” Her voice was heavy with lust. She glanced towards Rowan, who only shook his head, jerking his chin towards Aelin. She took that as a warning to pay attention to her, and keep reading. 

“For a trail of nips and sucks,” canines grazed her shoulder and she focused on keeping her breathing steady, Aelin’s fingers trailed down the page, pointing to the next line for her to read. “Her left hand slid from where she’d been torturing my nipples,” 

Y/n keened into Aelin’s touch as two fingers pinched her nipple, twisting slightly. “Did I say you could stop?”

“Fingers brushing down my body, slipping under my pants, down to where she could cup my pussy.” Aelin’s hand did exactly that, and her other hand grabbed the book and tossed it onto the table. 

Her hand pulled out, dragging her own arousal up y/n’s body, before her fingers pressed against her lips. She eagerly sucked on them, swirling her tongue on each one, drawing a small moan out of Aelin. Hands gripped Y/n’s hips, twisting her around so she’d straddle her thighs.

Their lips crashed together in a brutal, bruising kiss. Their shirts were lifted over their heads, bands bounding their breasts tossed across the room, leaving them half naked and exposed to the elements. A fire instantly lit the grate, roaring enough to warm the room slightly. Y/n slid down, her lips trailing across Aelin’s soft skin, stopping to leave small bruises in her wake. Aelin’s thumbs hooked through the waist of her pants and she wiggled slightly, letting Aelin drag them completely off, before returning the favor. Aelin pushed them back, Y/n’s body stretched across the couch now. 

-

Rowan figured this was Aelin’s way of punishing him. For what, exactly, he didn’t know. Only that she was possessive of y/n, and that ‘something,’ which really wasn’t anything at all, happened without her there. 

-

Aelin propped herself on one arm, her nails scratching down her chest, dragging over her nipple, watching as y/n’s lips parted, small whimpers leaving her. The other female gently cupped her hands around the back of her head, lowering her for a gentle kiss. Aelin loved how y/n was always gentle, always sweet, no matter how hard she fucked her, y/n would return with soft and gentle strokes, kisses that left her dizzy. 

Aelin’s fingers pressed through her folds without warning, burying only to her second knuckle and moving so painfully slowly, y/n seemed ready to explode, already on edge - just from a few careful touches and reading a few lines from a book. That filled her with a sense of power, that she was able to get these kinds of reactions out of her so quickly. Another sense of power came from the scent of Rowan’s arousal - watching in the corner. She loved an audience. 

Y/n pushed back, her hips thrusting forward, trying to ride her fingers, but placed one hand on her stomach, pinning her down to the coach. “So impatient.” She clicked her tongue, “are you going to be good for me?” 

Her head nodded rapidly, “I will, I will, I promise.” 

“If you aren’t,” Aelin glanced towards Rowan and y/n whimpered. But, Aelin slammed two fingers in completely, and Y/n screamed - her body writhing, before she slowly fucked her, with hard but slow strokes. 

“Please, please, please” y/n whimpered, chanting over and over again

“Please what? Use your words, love.” 

“More,” she moaned, trying to push back on Aelin’s fingers again. Aelin pulled away, and y/n whined in protest, she’d been right on the edge - her walls just starting to clench around her fingers. 

“What’s gotten into you?” She flicked her nose, “you’re never this demanding.” 

“I just want you,” she lifted her hands, trying to pull her back down on top of her, but Aelin swatted them away. Aelin debated teasing her more, making her wait, edging her for hours - she’d done that before, to great results. But … she settled back between her legs, sucking gently on her clit, pushing one finger inside of her, and quickly sent her hurtling towards the edge, enjoying the sweet sounds of her moans, and the slight shake in her thighs. 

Her girl was sleepy after, completely fucked out, the combination of sex and alcohol making her exhausted. She hid a small smile as she cleaned her up, before braiding her hair and tucking her in bed, Rowan following her out the door. One she made sure to lock. 

-

They had their song and dance - Aelin arriving as the market was closing, occasionally with Rowan in tow, pretending to pursue her goods, whatever was left. But, y/n always kept a little something separate for Aelin - something she’d craft specifically. Aelin had a collection of small trinkets in her chambers, displayed up on a shelf. Or several shelves. 

If Rowan was there, he insisted on tugging the small cart back, no matter how much she’d protest. One look from him and her mouth would shut, curving into a small smile instead. 

There wasn’t any tension, and she still didn’t feel like anything was missing or lacking, but she couldn’t figure out where she stood with them, or if that instance was a one time deal. Rowan occasionally watching was very different. He’d never kissed her, and she’d never kissed him. There were never any more moments, not like the one when he’d arrived before Aelin that day. Somehow Cherry became associated with him. 

She doesn’t know how to communicate it either, how would she tell Aelin she wants her mate and husband too … it could make it an awkward situation, and she was scared of losing Aelin. The female who had been such a big part of her life since they met. Another fear of hers, one that trickled through her mind more often than she’d like, is if she didn’t mean as much to Aelin as Aelin meant to her. 

-

But, months went on and things remained mostly the same. 

One morning, after Aelin spent the night, she reached a hand over, expecting to feel Aelin curled up on her side, but cold sheets met her touch. She startled, the sunrise peeking up through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over her room. 

Empty, and she couldn’t hear or scent her in the house. Y/n doesn’t know what she expected, or why she thought this time would be different. It’d recreate whatever she was reading, other times they’d falls always been like this. Aelin*sipped out inh the earouch. She’d wake - even though Y/n’s an early riser, sometimes the bed would be warm, others cold. 

Aelin would leave a note, saying something sweet, and when/if she might see her again, before the next weekend. Might is the key word. Nothing was ever set in stone. She liked to show up randomly too. Sometimes when she’d be very tipsy, stumbling into her home, and y/n always lit up seeing Aelin stretched casually on the couch. Maybe some kind of erotic romance novel in her hand, or resting her eyes if it had been a particularly hard day. Sometimes they’d recreate whatever she was reading, other times they’d fall asleep in each other's arms, right there on the couch. She’d wake up the next morning in her bed, a clean nightgown and hair braided. Some days she remembers Aelin cleaning her up, both of them laughing and sharing a story or two. But, her hair was always braided - like a calling sign telling her she’d been there, even if y/n had been drunk enough she forgot the night. It made her feel safe, and cared for.

But, it wore her down. Never knowing when Aelin would appear, never forming any kinds of close connections with her friends or court - beyond Fenrys, who she convinced to leave little things for Aelin in her rooms. Fenrys, who Aelin would send to check in on her if she and Rowan were gone for a long period of time, more than a month. 

It took longer than she cared to admit, but she built up the courage to do it. To do what she needed for herself. 

-

“You can’t …” Aelin, for once in her life, struggled for words. 

“I can’t what, Aelin?” Y/n’s voice was unusually cold, but tears shone in her eyes. Those eyes - usually sweet and adoring, were wary now. It snapped something inside her. 

“Leave this.” The Queen hissed back at her, eyes raging. Her throat tightened, and fists clenched. Y/n watched the movement, a bit of fear flickered through her scent. 

“Yes, I can.” Her lips pressed in a tight line.. 

“My scent is wrapped up enough in yours nobody will dare look twice at you.” Aelin raged, her voice rose. 

She shook her head, “I’ll manage.” Her voice was irritatingly even and calm, but Aelin could hear her heart pounding, and she strode towards her. Like in the past, she let her anger anchor her, slicing past any hesitation and doubt, letting it focus her. 

Aelin wrapped her arms around Y/n’s waist pulling her in close. She didn’t fight her. “You’re not leaving me.” 

“Am I going to spend the rest of my life with cold beds in the morning? Never knowing when I’ll see you again? Always your second option?”  

“It’s not like that.” She tightened her arms around her waist, her fingers dug into the female’s waist, the touch pure possession. 

“Have I ever visited your home?” Y/n prompted. Aelin didn’t answer. “My friends always ask to meet you, but you’ve always made excuses not to.” She said mildly, almost dismissive in tone, and tried to untangle herself from Aelin’s arms but she held on, her hold unbreakable. Why doesn’t she get it? Aelin doesn’t want to share, doesn’t want to know y/n’s other friends. To keep in that small bubble where y/n is hers. 

“I’ve talked about you to them. My court knows.” She countered. 

“But I’ve never met them, beyond Fenrys. It’s been two years.” 

“We’re immortal.” She’d introduce them to her one day. Maybe. 

“Are they?” Y/n challenged, watching how Aelin’s face tightened. “Are you embarrassed of me?” Her voice grew softer. 

“No,” Aelin breathed, “never,” and dropped her arms, y/n taking a few steps back. 

“Then why the secrecy?”

“I’m selfish. I don’t want to share you with them.” Aelin admitted, swallowing. 

“I would still be yours.” Y/n said mildly. 

“No,” Aelin became frustrated. Would, that one word rang through her mind. She’s not sure how to explain it. Gods, she wishes y/n would blow up, would get angry or frustrated or something except the sadness and resignation. 

“Give me a reason to stay,” Y/n said, nearly pleading. 

“Because I love you.” It’s the first thing she thought of, and she let the words fly out. Fill the room. 

Y/n wrapped her arms around herself, taking a few moments to let the words sink in. It didn’t have the effect Aelin wanted, instead she asked, “Is that going to be enough?” 

“I’ll make it enough.” Aelin promised. 

“Is anything going to change?” Her voice grew quieter with each word, the last one just above a whisper. 

“I’ll fix this.” She didn’t want to promise how much would change. How much she’d be able to give. No, she wouldn’t make a promise she couldn’t keep. She took steady steps back towards her, until she was standing just in front of her, close enough that if she took a deep breath their chests would touch. Instead her hands cupped her face, wiping away a small tear. 

“We can try.” Her voice was quiet, but the words rang through Aelin’s mind. Try? No, when she set her mind to something, it would happen. She does nothing by half measures. 

“There won’t be any ‘try,’ I said I’m going to fix this, and I promise I will, darling.” That promise she can make, one way or another, she’d figure out how to keep Y/n, and how to keep her happy in the process. 

“You promise?” Her teeth rolled her bottom lip between them, and Aelin’s thumb drifted to tug it away. 

“I just said that.” 

A ghost of a smile formed on Y/n’s face, but disappeared quickly. 

Aelin’s eyes glanced at the clock. “I have a meeting.” One she couldn’t avoid for once. “I’ll be back in two days.” She promised. “Around sundown.” 

Y/n’s eyes widened. Aelin realized she’d never given a specific date or time she’d show up. She made a mental note to change that. But, two days gave her enough time to figure this out. 

-

“How do I keep her?” Aelin ranted, pacing back and forth across their sitting room. 

“Do you need help?” Rowan raised his brows, ignoring her hard stare. 

“How would you help?” He ignored the sour tone of her words, recognizing she’s distressed and doesn’t mean it that way. 

“We keep her together.” Rowan offered. 

“What the rutting hell does that mean?” Her hands clenched her hair, fingers digging in. 

“Let me share her with you.” Gods, he’d thought about it for over a year, ever since that day. If Aelin would let him into that part of her life - the one she kept mostly secluded from the world. A small retreat for her, in a way. A place where she could escape from everyone else. He saw she was close to tears of frustration, and wrapped her in a hug. “Don’t cry my love.” 

He couldn’t really hurt y/n, but for making Aelin cry he wanted to punish her. Make sure it would never happen again. His instincts told him to destroy anything that might hurt her, that might cause Aelin any kind of pain, even bring her to the point of tears. He can count on two hands the amount of times he’d seen her cry. 

They’d realized a year ago they both shared a sort of mating bond with her. Aelin knew it snapped for Rowan at some point, but he’d done a good job of suppressing it, pushing it back into some corner, wanting to let Aelin have one part of her life to herself. It felt different from the bond they had with one another. Calmer, less turbulent, maybe even steady. That’s what he’d gleamed from the short amount of times he’d let himself actually feel it. He knows it’s torturing Aelin not to tell Y/n, wanting to let her figure it out on her own. 

“Should we just tell her?” 

Rowan debated it. “She said to give her a reason, didn’t she? If that helps it snap in place, leaving both of us would be near unbearable for her.” 

“But is that forcing her?” Once someone knows about a mating bond, it’s nearly inevitable it will snap into place. 

“Were you going to let her go?” 

Aelin’s silence answered his question. Now that she’d almost lost Y/n once, she’d hold on even tighter. “When?” When do we tell her, she meant.

“When do you see her next?.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Two days from now, around sundown.” 

-

Y/n waited, pacing anxiously. Wondering if Aelin would keep her promise, if she would come by. She’d decided to ask Aelin how she intended to “fix this.” What she would actually do, and what would actually change. 

The huge shock was that Rowan walked in behind her, the last person she was expecting to see. 

Tension immediately filled the space. Y/n couldn’t figure out why he was here, or why Aelin would bring him with her. 

But, Aelin gently took her hand and guided her to sit on the couch, subconsciously curling up against Aelin, and Rowan sat on her other side. Not close enough to touch, but enough that if she shifted a few inches, her knee would knock into his. He acted like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“You’ve felt a tug towards us before, haven’t you?” Aelin started. 

A tug … there is something inside her, a small thread that wants to reach out, to connect to them on a deeper level, but she’s shoved it back inside so far. Aelin’s fingers ran through her hair, and she melted further, pressing against her side. 

“I have,” y/n answered hesitantly. 

“Towards Rowan too.” She clarified. This felt like a trap, like answering it might piss Aelin off. She’s always been protective, borderline possessive maybe. “It’s okay if you have,” she murmured, “I won’t be mad.” Aelin pressed a kiss to the top of her hair. 

“I think so.” Aelin was … pleased. “Why are you asking?” 

“It’s a mating bond.” Rowan answered instead, some kind of edge in that normally cold voice was dulled. Maybe even a tad soft. But, the words shocked her. She’d wondered once … but it didn’t seem possible, not with the two of them together. 

She startled, pulling away from Aelin - standing up to pace around the room, back and forth - in front of the hearth. They watched her, eyes tracking her every move and expression, as if they could see the turbulent thoughts and waves of emotion flooding her mind. 

“I need you to leave.” She swallowed, not meeting their eyes. 

Surprisingly, they listened - only to stand right outside the door and she knew they wouldn’t leave until she spoke to them again. Only Aelin sent her a longing glance over her shoulder, one she saw through a mirror. Y/n couldn’t look at them, she couldn’t do it. 

Somehow it made sense, but she couldn’t help feeling it’s some sort of cruel trick. Aelin would find a way. Would always find a way. As soon as the bond snapped, as soon as she lets it, she knew it would nearly destroy her to leave both of them. If she managed to - they’d find her - and if they couldn’t, they still had a bond between each other. Carranam. Blood Oath. Mates. If it was just Aelin, it would be easier to wrap her head around it, but Rowan too?

If it’s true … why would he avoid her for so long? That’s what she can’t figure out. Did Aelin make him or did he choose to? Y/n doesn’t know if she wants the truth. Or if this is something he’s being tugged into, by Aelin - to keep her here. But, everything made sense now. The yearning, the tug she felt towards both of them. It all seemed to come together. 

She debates waiting to let the bond snap, either to punish them or herself. Her magic could do that, could suppress it down far enough it would keep that connection at bay - for a while at least. Just at the thought, the happy little threads in her chest turn to anger, pounding against what she is thinking. Against the betrayal, aching for them, begging her to let it snap, to be wholly theirs. 

What role would she have? Y/n’s been Aelin’s for so long. Three of them - what would that mean … As long as they don’t try to tear her away from her life, her work, her home, then maybe it would work out. In the end, y/n knows she won’t have a choice. Her entire heart and soul is begging her to give in to it, to be theirs, not just Aelin’s, but to both of theirs. 

-

Aelin and Rowan waited outside the door. Not patiently, but waited. They wouldn’t leave without speaking to her again, without figuring out what was going through her mind. The bond hadn’t snapped the moment she told them, and that filled Aelin’s head with worries. Was she using some of her magic to suppress it? To keep it from actually going into place. And if that was the case, what could Aelin do to stop that? 

-

“You’re worrying too much,” Rowan murmured, gathering her in his arms. She leaned into his touch, letting the warmth of his body take some of the chill away. 

The door opened up, showing y/n, tear stains on her face, but she silently swung it open, enough for them to walk in, and closed it. She leaned back against the wall - not the door, not trapping them inside, but her arms were crossed. Nervous, on edge, defensive maybe. 

“I’m not ready for it.” She said, before they could get a word in. 

He felt Aelin’s surprise, not the reaction she expected, but he figured it would be something along these lines. 

“I want to figure out,” she gestured between the three of them, “this first.” 

“How do you keep the bond from snapping?” Aelin questioned her. 

“I shove it down.” The same way Rowan has been shoving his down for the last year. Aelin had fully accepted it, even if it wasn’t on y/n’s side yet. “I don’t want to be torn away from my life.” 

“We wouldn’t do that.” Aelin’s brows drew together as Rowan observed every reaction from both of them. Aelin … wouldn’t necessarily do that, but would try and eliminate any obstacle keeping her from y/n. 

“I want to keep my work, my friends, my home.” 

“I won’t take that away from you.” Rowan promised. He couldn’t promise on Aelin’s behalf, but he saw her sag slightly in relief. 

“Okay.” She murmured. “We can try.” 

“Trying to run away from it … to escape it, would be very painful.” Aelin’s lips pressed in a tight line. 

“I know,” y/n’s voice was soft - her expression absent, like her mind was wandering. 

Aelin strode slowly towards her, tugging her arms and slipping intertwining their fingers. “This is a good thing.” He watched how Aelin’s touch calmed her, relaxed her. Something - not jealousy - but desire ran through him. He wanted to have that effect on her. Maybe, one day, he would. But, they have to figure this out first, how to navigate it with the three of them. 

“A good thing.” Y/n repeated, a slightly dazed look on her face. Aelin cupped her face, her thumbs running over her cheekbones before pulling her in for a gentle kiss. 

Before Rowan could think further about it, he was moving. 

-

She felt a warm body behind her as Aelin’s lips gently pressed against hers, coaxing her into a sweet kiss. Rowan. Rowan was behind her. His hands brushed down her shoulders, before his lips pressed against the spot where your neck met her shoulder. Involuntarily, she let out a small moan, giving Aelin the opportunity to nip at her bottom lip. 

She didn’t know where to focus - on Rowan, Aelin, every sensation running through her - gentle but still seeming to set every inch of her on fire. Her body wanted them. Her heart did. Her soul did. It was so tempting to give in, to let the bond take over now, but she shoved that part back inside her. She wasn’t ready, not yet.