#and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to call him or send him a message or something

[enchantedlandcoffee]

.

[vanillahigh00]

Word Search

tagged by @seadeepy to search my WIPs for the words: close, ring, whisper, sun, and soft! Thank you so much, friend!!!

So… I have so many WIPs that I’ve never published that are sitting with random words. It was fun to see what would pop up, enticing me to possibly finish them. These are all from the Schitt’s Creek fandom.

Close: Found in a highschool AU I started and never finished (No working Title). It was meant to be an addition to my “Fall”ing For You Series.

Patrick dropped the pizza box in front of David, popping it open allowing David to inhale its savory fragrance.

David immediately picked up a slice. Patrick followed suit as they settled into conversation about their day and social engagements planned for the weekend. 

It didn’t take long to consume the contents of the cardboard container. Once the pizza box was empty, Patrick tossed the package in the fire, as David’s pupils enlarged. Patrick reached over and placed a reassuring hand on David’s thigh, his gaze never leaving Patrick’s. David took Patrick’s hand and pulled him over on his lap. David met his lips in a soft, gentle kiss.

“I thought we weren’t doing this outside.” Patrick smirked, rubbing his thumb along David’s jaw.

“I never said we wouldn’t be kissing outside and I’d much rather have you close in case I get cold.”

Patrick softly kissed David as he stood up. “Babe, you’re going to love this.”

Ring: Found in a WIP I’ve been playing with for years that has not been published called “The Luck Of The Irish.” I took creative liberties with this word.

David settled on an open faced grilled sourdough sandwich covered in seared Irish sausage and melted swiss cheese banger melt, topped with a caramelized onion demi-glaze and a side order of onion rings. Sausage. David wanted some sausage right now, it had been awhile as his eyes didn’t leave frat boy. At least the onion rings would guarantee he didn’t try to do anything stupid like kiss this gorgeous straight boy. No one would kiss someone with onion breath. 

Fuck! Frat boy caught him staring and started moving in David’s direction. Why was frat boy walking toward David? Duh. He wanted another green beer or whatever frat boys drank on St Paddy’s day. There was no other explanation.

“Hey… handsome.” Frat boy spoke slowly, not quite a slur. 

His eyes raked up and down David’s body lighting up every nerve ending along David’s body.

“Oh, let me guess. You come hit on me or at least attempt to for some bet.” David tilted his head. It was a plausible explanation. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Before the frat boy responded, his lips brushed David’s. It was chaste and it was quick, but it knocked David right off kilter.

“How much did you win?” David asked, looking over at Patrick’s friends too busy hooting and hollering to even glance in his or frat boy’s direction. He tried to remain calm, cool and collected about this one time event when it took every ounce of willpower not to drag frat boy off to the bathroom for an encore.

“A few things you should know...I’m very drunk.” Frat boy grinned, his eyes the color of light milk chocolate boring a hole into David’s soul.

“That much is clear.”

Whisper: Also found in “The Luck Of The Irish”

“Well, I don’t tend to kiss random straight guys in a bar so....”

The frat boy got up and cupped David’s shoulders and whispered, “Who said I was straight?” He breathed, sending a chill down David’s spine he wouldn’t soon forget. 

Sun: Found in an untitled work also intended as part of the “Fall”ing For You Series. For now we’ll call it the Chili Cook Off.

It was a crisp, fall day, leaves blowing off the trees, but the sun’s bright rays warmed Patrick from within as he walked down the street of this small town without a care in the world and likely a wide smile across his face. 

In his path, he found a telephone pole covered by several pieces of paper. Patrick stopped to read one flyer in particular. 

The Schitt’s Creek Annual Chilli Cookoff!

It couldn’t hurt to make new friends and maybe meet someone special. Although the mention of Jocelyn Schitt’s five year win streak grabbed his attention. If there was one thing Patrick knew for sure was that Marcy Brewer’s chili was definitely a winner. Hopefully to another man’s heart.

Soft: One more blurb from “The Luck Of The Irish.”

David noticed a softness in Patrick’s eyes that he hadn’t seen all day, but it seemed safe. Familiar. Patrick must have looked at him that way after they kissed. Did he look at everyone that way? He was sure most people would find it unnerving, but people didn’t look at David like that. He could get used to that kind of attention from Patrick.

“Trust me. You’ll be glad when this conference is over.”

“Why is that exactly?” Patrick tilted his head, a grin crossing his face.

“The more time you spend with me, the sooner you’ll want to leave.”

“Don’t be so sure.” Patrick couldn’t have looked more serious, it was almost heart stopping.

This was so much fun! Tagging to join in the fun: @hippolotamus, @sspaz1000, @chelle-68, @demora00 and anyone else who wants to play along. Your words are: grass, laugh, smooth, jump, star

[reviviscencegruiform]

Tell the story. Tell the story, it was such a beautiful moment. It has to be shared with the world.

//Alright. So this happened at Vidcon in 2000...what? 2016? Maybe 2014? To set the scene, we were a small horde of mentally ill 18 to 20 somethings that had all hyped one another up the previous night while drinking to go on a stupid nature walk for our stupid mental health because we were dead bored with the con. That was a whole other random chimp event because what caused it is it's own story, anyway- we piled into two separate cars and in one car was me, my boyfriend Jon, and our friends Chris, Zach, and Hunter. Maybe one other person, I don't remember, but we got turned around somehow.

We ended up going around and around this lake in the middle of Anaheim when it was 108°F outside and we just could not figure out how to get to the park from the google maps directions and it turns out it was because we kept driving past this gate and that was the way to the park. It wasn't supposed to be locked, but more on that later. On our maybe, eeeeh, 4th? circle of the lake we stop at the gate and send out the resident Irishman, Chris, into the heat to check and see if the gate was just closed and we were stupid. No, it was locked, we weren't stupid and this road is so small you can not turn around and it's miles long so we're like "Well, now what? The other guys are waiting on us."

For this next part you need to know that there are several multi-million dollar mansions surrounding this man-made lake.

Well, the appearance of Chris at the gate and our driving around, apparently the wrong way, summoned the most wretched angry old man from the ether, no one saw him coming. He just appeared like he used instant transmission fueled by his privileged rage alone.

So this guy starts SCREAMING at us. Like whole hog screeching at us about it. No one can understand what the hell he's saying and so Jon opens the door to try to explain and Chris gets in the car saying "Don't, don't, he's crazy. Just get in the car." and he was right because this old guy moves to stand in front of the car saying "I'm going to call the cops! I'm going to call the cops! There's a gate right there. Go out through the gate!" and we're like "It's locked." and he says "No! Why are you here?" and we said "Google maps told us to go here." and he says "I think you're lying. Do you think I'm stupid? Are you stupid or am I stupid? I'm going to call the cops!" I remember that part very specifically because it took every ounce of willpower from everyone in the car not to answer his question honestly. Then Jon has to do this near entirely off road five point turn to get us out of there because that guy would not move unless it was to get in front of the car again. We managed to find a whole other way to the park that was actually the exit to the park because that closed and locked gate was the real entrance, but because of that lake road it turns out people just use the exit.

We meet up with the others and we're telling them about what happened in a "You will not believe what just happened to us" kind of way and lo and behold that same old man comes walking up the path and makes a point to walk through our group, that isn't standing on the main path mind you. That old guy must have known he fucked up because he didn't say shit and was coming from the direction of the locked gate and I guess this goblin glaring at us all was just too much for Jon because he looks that old man right in the eye and calls him a bitch.

That old man starts screaming again "I'm calling the cops! The cops are coming! The cops are coming!" They never came by the way, we were there for hours after this on our stupid nature walk and not even one showed up, but anyway all I can say for Jon is he was a struggling alcoholic at the time so this opportunity presented itself for him to unleash the beast and so he did. "Shut up you old wrinkly bitch! You are going to die. You are old. You are going to get a heatstroke and die! It's over for you! Fuck off!" and the old guy said something else, I don't remember what, but that made Jon speak the legendary "Fuck you! Fuck where you came from!" And then he told him to suck his dick.

Now, I was mortified. Zach was on the ground cackling and Chris was holding his knees trying not to be on the ground cackling. Everyone else was somewhere between those two stages. "Oh my God, why did you say that?" and Jon was like "I know ten people exactly like that, that I had to deal with when I was a kid so now that I'm an adult and can do whatever the fuck I want I'm going to. It's good to tell old losers who try to take advantage of that to fuck with you and ruin your day to fuck off and remind them they ain't shit and are going to die soon. Sometimes they forget about that and you have to humble them."

I don't know when the old man left, he did at some point, but we went on our walk and the whole time we were like a shuffling group of roman senators debating over the ethics of reminding the elderly that death approaches. It was just one of those bonding, but cringe young adult moments that no one, but the present parties holds dear.//

[rarediseaseanon]

My husband dropped by during lunchtime to spend time with me, which was nice. My best friend wants to go for a walk in half an hour and it took every ounce of my willpower to not cancel. Walking is one of the only activities I can do right now, since my surgical wound is on my arm and doesn't effect my legs. Because of the issues with my insurance, the whole procedure was very rushed and I didn't have a whole lot of time to plan for it. In the past, when I've had surgeries I had time to prepare myself. Big surprise, I'm an overthinker, and I would typically over-analyze surgery before hand and make a plan. This time, it just sort of happened and I wasn't sure what to expect afterwards. It's been a lot more brutal than I was ready for and I have been a lot more incapacitated than I thought I'd be. The arm is a very awkward spot to have a wound, especially when it comes to sleeping. I am a stomach sleeper, which makes things very difficult. My husband is also terrified of hurting me while we're asleep by accidentally touching the wound, so he's been sleeping on the couch despite my protesting. It's hard to sleep without him in bed with me. It's only been a day but I'm happy with myself for making this tumblr, it does feel like it helps. It feels good to type and send these words somewhere into the world, especially because I'm certain people in my life are exhausted from hearing me talk about it. It's kind of toxic, but I know if someone were talking to me about this sort of thing non-stop, it would exhaust me. I've been thinking a lot lately about how I'm not a great friend -- I have no energy to listen to other people's problems in general, because my cup feels so empty. Yesterday my best friend called me to complain about her neighbors being annoying (which I deeply relate to, because my upstairs neighbors are straight from hell), but I just couldn't engage and couldn't offer any words of support. I'm worried that our walk today will be a lot like that. I am always inside of some kind of crisis and have no bandwidth for anything.

[itsallyscorner]

Sour

Pairing: Previous Tom Holland x singer!reader (fem)

Summary: You reflect on your past relationship and thus sour is born. Kinda social media fic.

Warnings: angst? Has a hint of heartbreak, no dialogue, this is me word vomiting.

A/n: Honestly just wrote this to get it out of my system. I might be writing more Sour related fics because I’m obsessed with the album, also you guys can always send in requests :) I hope you guys like it💜

✧∘* ೃ ⋆｡˚.

✧───── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *. ☽.* :★. ─────✧

People do stupid things for love. Though the phrase is overused, it’s true. That’s why it’s called Crazy, Stupid, Love. Love can be defined as both crazy and stupid. It’s a thrilling adventure that has its ups and downs. Where you’ll end up? You’ll never know, as the conclusions of love can be unpredictable. Some people end up happily living their lives with their special person. While others are left heartbroken, searching every lonely place and corner for a lover that’ll last forever.

You were stupidly and embarrassingly in love with the boy from Kingston. You poured your heart and soul to show him how much you loved him. You were willing to bend over backwards and hand him the world on a silver platter. But now you and your heart were just victims of his journey to get to her.

The pictures weren’t a shock to you. Though you carried a heavy heart, you weren’t surprised to see them so happily together. As much as it hurt you to admit it, they belonged together and she always had his heart. Even when you were in a relationship with Tom, he was never fully yours. Instead, you were just a replacement to fill in the emptiness she left on his heart. You didn’t exactly fit, but you were willing to love him with every ounce of your being, that he decided to make it work.

Tom would never intentionally hurt you, there wasn’t a single bad bone in that man’s body. It might be foolish of you to continue defending his actions towards you and your feelings, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say a bad thing about him. You could have called him a traitor and a liar. You could have screamed at him about how he betrayed you and played with your feelings. But you couldn’t. You could never say those things to his face and all those unspoken words would be kept inside.

Though unspoken words are a dangerous thing. They took over your brain until they were the only things you thought about and piled above each other until you couldn’t take it anymore. All the things you wanted to say and ask Tom were building up inside you, waiting for you to combust.

Then you exploded.

As an artist, you wanted to be a role model for your fans. A way you did that was through your music. Through the lyrics of your songs you showed your fans the importance of self love and being true to themselves. Part of being a good role model for your fans was honesty. With the state of your mind, you didn’t have the willpower to write anything empowering or upbeat. The words your wrote consisted of heartache, Tom’s faults, and all the things you did to call him yours. If this was your way of teaching your fans to embrace their feelings and understanding closure, then this album was it.

This wasn’t a love letter to Tom confessing how much you wanted him back. No, this was your goodbye.

(Cover art made by yours truly)

🖤 Liked by taylorswift, oliviarodrigo, harryholland64, and 4,607,879 others

(y/n)(l/n) SOUR is out EVERYWHERE now💜 this album is my most personal one yet and to be able to share this with all of you is very special to me. each song means so much to me and have a special place in my heart. thank you to everyone involved for making this album a reality, i love you all so much x

oliviarodrigo: I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE☝🏻

taylorswift: I am beyond proud of you! Everything about this is beautiful, you’re an absolute poet♥️

(y/n)scloset: OH MY GOD SHE RELEASED AN ALBUM??!!!

vancityreynolds: I hope you learn to parallel park🥰

harryholland64: congrats busy bee 🐝🥳🥳

tomholland_world: I 🗣HOPE 🗣I 🗣WAS 🗣YOUR🗣FAVORITE 🗣 CRIME🗣

daily(y/n): WOW THIS ALBUM HURTS

daily(y/n): I DIDNT NEED TO CRY TODAY BUT THANK YOU (Y/N)

tomhvideos: SHE’S PULLING A TAYLOR AND IM HERE FOR IT AGHHHHHHH YESS

arianagrande: i love you so much wow🥺🤍

tuwaine: THE GOAT. Excited for this👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿👏🏿

tomdayasstan: imagine writing an album for attention🙄✋

selenagomez: my heart!! You deserve the world❤️❤️❤️✨

(y/n/n)videos: imagine hating on such talent🙄 If you don’t have anything nice to say GET OFF her page.

(l/n)swiftgrande: THIS ALBUM IS GOING TO BREAK RECORDS!! IM SO PROUD OF YOU🥺💜

bretmanrock: BITCH GO OFF THE FUCKKKKK

hazosterfield: Will be listening to this all day, congrats (y/n/n)🥳🥳💜

tomholland2013: proud of you❤️

wandas_vision: EYE— 👁 👄 👁

tomsholland: wait a damn minute☝️

sour(l/n): lmao the AUDACITY

✧∘* ೃ ⋆｡˚.

🏷 Tags

*if there’s a line through your url, tumblr won’t let me tag you :(*

Tom Holland x reader Tags ↴

↪︎ @lovableparker @aprettyfleur @sunwardsss @dummiesshort @thotforcriminalminds @cuddlykoala101 @itstaskeen @whoslili @white-wolf1940 @tomsirishgirlx @roseke @kaylans-imagines @spideyspeaches @slut-for-steve-rogers

General Tags (besties) ↴

↪︎ @my-divine-death @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @thegirlwiththediary @agustdowney @bi-lmg @rqmanoff @sesamepancakes @stardustofreading @dracoswhore007 @alyssathesoftie @amourtentiaa @ifyouknewhowmiserylovedme @kaitieskidmore1 @6r4cie

[notanotherreidgirl]

soooo maybe sub spence having a huge crush on the reader and it’s blatantly obvious so one day when him and reader are sharing a hotel room (he almost shit his pants when he heard the room assignments) after reader is done showering, she comes out in just a black bra and panties, claiming she forgot her pajamas in her bad which is conveniently placed entirely across the room so she walks slowly by where hes sitting on his bed to retrieve her clothes while spence sits there and has to pretend like hes not about to have an actual heart attack. and then smut. wow this was a run on sentence and it sounded better in my head but

this is so long - i'm sorry (but also not)! Thank you so much for sending this in! I literally just sat down and wrote it in one go, I loved the idea so much!!

Warnings: oral sex (female receiving), coming in pants

A crush. That was the most accurate description of Spencer’s feelings for you because the weight of his affection for every solitary thing you did was absolutely crushing him. He couldn’t look at you for more than a minute before his heart constricted in the most delightfully uncomfortable manner. However, Spencer was no stranger to unrequited love and knew better than to act on his feelings. So he took special care around you, making sure the two of you were never alone, only allowing himself to look at you for 20 seconds at a time. Most of the time it worked but not right now.

Right now you were less than 6 feet away from him, separated by the bathroom door and a flimsy bath curtain. And you were in the shower. Naked. As soon as the thought entered his mind, he tried to push it out but he had already conjured up an image of you with water cascading down your chest, plumes of steam framing your figure, lathering soap on your soft skin…

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and forced his attention back to the case files scattered on his bed. But then there was your handwriting scrawled in the margins messy in the most endearing way, he traced a finger over the loops in your y’s and g’s. This is ridiculous. You are being ridiculous. He scolded himself while shoving files back into his satchel, resolving to get under the covers and feign sleep just when the door creaked open.

He turned his head towards you, automatically starting his countdown 20, 19, 18 … but his thoughts evaporated as soon as he saw you. He saw the bra first - black and lace and hugging you in all the right places. He tried to pull his eyes up to your face, he really did, but his gaze slipped downward and he was done for. Those thin, matching black panties were instantaneously seared into his memory. He barely registered your unconvincing apology and explanation that you had forgotten your pajamas across the room in your go-bag. His thoughts were just an unrelenting chant of you, you, you

You took your time crossing the room, shaking out your wet hair, and putting an extra swing in your hips. Realistically, the distance to your go bag was short but it felt like miles to Spencer. Time slowed to a crawl as he watched your confident strides and how you bent down at the hips to grab your clothes, giving him a perfect view of your ass. His breathing picked up and he brought a hand to his chest, convinced that he was having a heart attack.

Just when he thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse you slipped on a loose pajama shirt and he let out an involuntary audible high-pitched whine when you began to do the buttons. You quirked an eyebrow, giving him a coy smile. “What's the matter, baby? You see something you like?”

As you spoke you crawled across your bed and sat at the edge, legs open so he could see the damp patch growing at the center of your panties. He tried and failed to speak, only managing to make pathetic little sounds from the back of his throat. You took pity on him, lightly patting your inner thigh and motioning for him to come in closer.

Spencer practically fell to his knees in front of you, bringing his lips towards your clothed core. Before he could make contact you threaded a hand through his hair and angled his head up to meet your eyes. “Good boys ask for permission”

“Please, please please” he begged, using every ounce of his willpower to force the words from his mouth. “I want you so bad. Please let me taste you”

Satisfied, you lifted your hips so he could rid you of your underwear before guiding him between your legs. Spencer was like a man possessed. He brought his tongue up your folds, circling around your clit and then traveling back down to delve into you.

“Good job. There’s my perfect boy,” you panted. His response was immediate, shuffling in closer and effectively burying his face between your legs and plunging his tongue as deep as possible. “You like that? You like me calling you my perfect, pretty boy?”

You could feel warmth blossoming in your lower abdomen and you tightened your grip on his hair, signaling your impending release. He only doubled his efforts, sucking your clit into his mouth and moaning deeply.

As you rode out your high, he grabbed onto your thighs and held you against his eager mouth, lapping up your come until you finally wiggled out of his reach. You smiled down at him, prepared to return the favor only to see his gaze cast downward, avoiding your eyes.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You reached down to pull his face up into your hands when you saw it - the wet spot at the front of his pants. You knew the answer but you asked anyway. “Did you come?”

He gave a shy nod before trying to make his escape but you pulled him in, crashing your lips together in a frenzied, lust-fueled kiss. “You’re even better than I imagined, Dr. Reid”

Blurb Masterlist

[theladyofdeath]

I’ll Be Seeing You {1}

Nesta x Cassian, 1940′s AU

Collaboration with @snelbz​

Summary: After Cassian gets injured in the war, he’s taken to a war camp to be cared for until he gains enough strength to return to his battalion. While he’s there, he falls for a nurse that couldn’t care less about his title and doesn’t put up with his bullshit. Once he’s healed and the years pass by, he finds that there’s only one thing he wants to remember from the war, and she’s only a letter away. 

Trigger Warnings: war

A/N: FINALLY. Shelby and I have been writing away (both at this one, and the one she will begin posting later this week). We’ve been so excited to share, and hope you all like it.

Chapters will be posted every Monday. 

Word Count: 3745

IBSY Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist 

Tara’s Masterlist  

September 1940, The Winter Court

It was cold.

It was cold and Cassian couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a full night’s sleep. He was bleary eyed in the midday sun, which did little to warm the frigid air as he walked, one hand braced on the gun hanging from his shoulder.

He idly wondered where Rhys and Az had been deployed to, if they’d ended up in one of the milder courts, or if they were as unlucky as he was, patrolling the borders of Winter.

If they were in one of the warmer courts, he hated them.

Loved them, missed them, hoped they were safe.

But he hated them, nonetheless.

Alongside his fellow soldiers, Cassian continued on, marching through the snow from the night before. It had been a wicked storm, one Cassian wasn’t certain they wouldn’t make it through. But they did, through some miracle their fires remained burning all night long, snow and all.

“Perk up, Nazari,” the soldier beside him grinned. “At least it’s above freezing today.”

“It’s at least ten below freezing,” Cassian said, snorting. 

The soldier's grin just widened and he kept marching on. At least someone was happy to be there.

He’d stopped learning anything aside from his fellow soldiers' names after the first couple of months. After losing someone he’d grown close to for what felt like the hundredth time, it was easier that way.

Andras, the golden haired man, continued on. “We’ve only got another ten miles before we meet up with the seventeenth battalion. Rumor has it they got a resupply in rations last month.”

There was too much to unpack in that statement for Cassian to waste his energy and warmth responding.

Only another ten miles made him want to wring Andras’s neck. They’d been moving since dawn and had only covered seven miles. At the rate they were moving now, they’d likely have to make camp again in volatile unclaimed territory.

He also knew a resupply of rations was unlikely. He hadn’t heard of any of the courts sending out any aid, because none had any to spare. So it was likely that rumors were all Andras had heard, and rumors they would stay. And if they somehow were true, Cassian was sure that the seventeenth battalion had probably gone through them themselves, not concerned with any forces coming to meet up with them.

He knew his legion wouldn’t have cared.

But this was war. Every man for himself, even if f they were fighting for a common goal.

Peace.

Peace seemed far away as the sound of rapid gunshots went off in the distance.

Someone screamed, and then an explosion went off up ahead, sending smoke and bodies flying into the air.

At first, Cassian’s body locked up but then his training kicked in. He fell into formation.

As he hurried behind Andras, Cassian took pity on one of the younger guys. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen, and this was most likely his first attack. He looked terrified, completely frozen.

“Move!” Cassian yelled, and the kid’s eyes connected with his, then he was finally moving, fumbling for his gun.

Cassian wished him the best but didn’t think about it long. He couldn’t. This was war. He had to remain focused.

The sound of the canon roared and before they had time to think, the cannonball landed just up ahead. Close enough for Cassian’s ears to ring.

He looked around, trying to locate the enemy.

He raised his gun.

His ears we’re still ringing and he couldn’t place where the shots were coming from, just saw man after man in his battalion go down. But Andras surged ahead and Cassian followed behind, trusting the instincts of his fellow soldier.

“Into the trees,” he called, knowing they wouldn’t offer much cover, but they wouldn’t be as exposed as they were on the open road.

Andras’s quick nod was his only reply and they pushed, but not before white hot pain shot down Cassian’s arm.

He cried out, still barely able to hear himself over the high-pitched ringing in his head, but he didn’t go down. He knew the only thing that awaited him if he did was death.

They’d been split up, separated and disoriented, just like the enemy had wanted them.

Cassian pressed a hand to his arm, hoping he’d just been grazed, but when he looked down, he knew that wasn’t the case. He was lucky he was still able to use his arm, with how much blood was pouring from the wound. He leaned against a tree as they made it deep into the cover.

“Fuck, man, you’re hit,” Andras muttered, not even pausing to consider before tearing into his own small med kit and tying a tourniquet above the wound on Cassian’s arm.

It took every ounce of willpower in him not to snap something like “No shit,” back at the man, but knew it would be a waste of energy.

“This should hold you over,” Andras yelled, above the screaming, the gunshots, the sound of the cannon. “You good?”

“I’m good,” Cassian promised, even though he wasn’t sure it was the truth. He was certain that he was running off adrenaline. There was a bullet in him, after all.

Bullet and all, he raised his gun and looked toward the hillside.

He could see the enemy, dressed in black. They looked like ants, being so far away, but Cassian took his aim, nonetheless. 

He aimed.

He fired.

He repeated the process.

The others near him did the same.

The battle was in full force.

Gunshots echoed and the men around Cassian went down. It was no use, really. The enemy was stronger, and far more confident. 

“Fuck,” Cassian muttered when he ran out of bullets. As he was reloading, a scream echoed from beside him, and Cassian looked down. “Andras? Andras!” He fell to his knees and took the soldier’s face into his hands. “Hey. Hey! Stay with me.” A crimson stain appeared on his uniform, just over his chest. 

The man coughed, blood spraying his chin and Cassian knew death lingered around them.

Granted, it was a constant shadow over all of Prythian.

He watched the light leave the man’s usually bright, laughing eyes, watched as they dimmed and stared unseeing to the canopy of trees above.

He didn’t have time for sadness, didn’t have time for grief. He picked up Andras’s gun, slinging it over his shoulder and grabbed his ammunition.

“We’ve got to move,” Cassian called back to the soldiers around him. “Deeper into the trees and head south. Try to get to the Autumn border.”

He held rank above the men, but not by much. Enough that they listened to his orders and did as they were told.

If they could just get to Autumn, they’d be back in friendly territory. He dared a look back as they retreated.

The number of bodies left bleeding in the snow made him sick to his stomach. How many men were still breathing and how many had passed on into the darkness?

A blanket of white, splattered with red. 

Cassian tried not to panic, but they were outnumbered. “Move!” he yelled, but with every second that passed, another body fell. He pushed down that panic, and moved forward.

He had only taken a few steps before a searing pain hit his back, just below his shoulder. Cassian landed facedown in the snow, and this time, he was unable to move. 

A burning sensation began to spread, and that panic that he had pushed down began to resurface. 

He heard someone yell for him, heard someone call his name, but it sounded far away, too far away. Someone was holding him, but Cassian felt nothing, nothing but that burning in his back. Darkness clouded his vision, and as much as he told his feet to keep moving, as much as he told himself to get back up and keep going, he couldn’t move. 

Time moved slowly. 

Cassian felt like this is what it was like to die.

And, surprisingly, once that panic began to fade, he was no longer afraid.

An explosion sounded nearby, and Cassian’s body was thrown.

In the snow, in the heart of the Winter Court, the darkness took over, and Cassian was gone.

*

There had been an ambush.

That was all that they were told as bloodied and battered men were hauled into the med camp just over the Autumn border.

Nesta Archeron’s eyes were wide as she took in some of the injuries.

Blood. There was so much blood.

She’d had to tend to a few of the men as they passed through, but most of the fighting had been deeper into the territory. She hadn’t seen the violence of all out bloodshed.

The screaming of a man whose arm was hanging in tattered ribbons broke her from the haze she’d settled in. She looked around the tent at the dozens of men and wondered if the other nurses tents were filling as quickly as hers.

“Madja,” she breathed, surprised to find her voice gravely. “Who should I—?”

“Anyone,” the head nurse snapped, pressing a wad of bandages to a wound in a man’s chest. “Just pick one.”

She nodded and tied her hair back, hurrying across the tent.

The bloody man was unconscious, covered in burns and mud, but the young soldier who brought him in still stood beside him. She asked, “What are his injuries?”

The young man was a stammering mess. “He— He took at least two shots to the ba-back, one to the arm.” She was about to reach for him, to turn him over and inspect his back but he added, “And then we tripped a land mine on the trek over.” Nesta went still. “He wasn’t in the direct path of the explosion but he was in the radius. I think— I think he was thrown, but I’m not sure. I helped carry him in after that.”

Nesta only hesitated for a moment before nodding, tight lipped. “Thank you. Help me turn him over.”

The young soldier nodded, helping Nesta flip him onto his stomach. She could see where he had been shot. Crimson stains coated his uniform. Without another word, Nesta began to cut the fabric.

First things first: remove the bullets.

Nesta cleansed his wounds, then went to work. They had very limited surgical equipment, but Nesta had gotten used to using what they had since she arrived in the recent weeks. The young soldier remained as Nesta removed the bullets from her patient’s back and arm, and once that was complete, she checked his vitals.

His pulse was steady enough, although it was slower than it should have been. He had a fever, most likely due to infection of the bullet wounds. Considering he was out, there was no way to check for any sort of head injury, but if he had been thrown due to an explosion, Nesta had no doubt that he did.

She could only hope that he would wake up soon so that she could examine him further.

“What’s his name?” Nesta asked the young soldier that continued to stand by his bedside.

“Corporal Cassian Nazari, ma’am,” he answered. 

Nesta nodded. “Thank you.” She wrote his name on the sheet of paper on the clipboard hanging from his bed. 

“Should I— What should I do?” He asked, swallowing hard. “Do I help or—?”

She looked at him, nearly shaking in the medical tent. “What’s your name?”

“Isaac, ma’am. Private Isaac Hale,” he replied, and it was the first thing he’d said that he sounded confident in.

“Do you have any medical training, Private Hale?” She asked, firmly, but not unkindly.

“No, ma’am,” he admitted.

She nodded. “Then go be with your men. Your presence is appreciated, but we need the space to work.”

He accepted the dismissal, nodding, and hurried out of the tent.

Nesta looked back down at her patient and reached for one of the damp rags. She needed to get him cleaned up so she could fully assess his injuries. He was still out cold, so she whispered, “Sorry, Corporal Nazari, but this is probably going to hurt.”

After re-drenching the rag in alcohol, Nesta was cleaning the gunshot wounds, carefully but quickly. At one point, Corporal Nazari stirred, which she assumed was due to the horrid stinging of the alcohol against an open wound, but Nesta took it as a good sign.

He was responsive.

He was alive. 

Once his wounds were cleaned, she flipped him back onto his back and checked his pulse, once again.

Slow, but steady. 

She had stitched and bandaged him up, so the blood loss had been minimized. Nesta made a note to check on him in half an hour and wiped her hands on her apron, continuing on.

Cassian Nazari was not the only soldier that had gotten caught in an explosion. In fact, there were men far worse off than him. Madja was assisting a man who had his leg nearly blown off, and although Nesta had a tolerance for such things, she looked away.

War on the frontlines was not easy.

But being a nurse, seeing what the frontlines did to soldiers, was not easy, either.

It was nearly two hours later, the sun beginning to set and lamps being lit inside the med tent, before Nesta made her way back to check on the corporal. One of her fellow nurses had cleaned him off as much as they could and underneath all the mud and gore, she found that his face, despite being battered and burnt and bruised, was…handsome. Ignoring that handsome face, she gave him a full once over, finding burns on his entire left side, four cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder and a broken bone in his forearm. He was also probably concussed, but until he woke up, that couldn’t be confirmed.

Not the worst injuries he could have gotten by far, but the number of them would keep him down for a while. He was lucky he hadn’t been closer to the blast when the mine had gone off.

Quickly, but efficiently, she set the bones in his arm, and popped his shoulder back into place, before wrapping his arm and slinging it around his neck.

The injury to his back worried her. One of those bullets had been very close and she wasn’t sure if any damage had been done to his spine. Again, they’d have to wait until he was awake to see just how bad it was, but until then, she elected to check for response in one of the few ways she knew how.

Carefully tugging off one of his boots, she ran a finger along the inside of his foot, tickling gently. His knee jerked slightly and she breathed a sigh of relief at the quick response and movement.

A raspy voice whispered, “That’s the strangest version of foreplay I’ve ever seen, but I’m open to trying anything once.”

Nesta’s eyes were immediately on his face and one of his was barely cracked open and trained on her. The other was swollen shut.

She hurried to the head of the small bed he laid in. “Corporal Nazari, how are you feeling?”

“Who are you?” He asked, and even though his voice was quiet, it sounded like the man had been gargling gravel.

“Nesta Archeron, sir,” she breathed. “You’re in the med camp of the twenty-sixth legion.”

His eye fell shut again and he rasped, “Autumn?”

She nodded, but then voiced her words. “Yes. There was an ambush—.” She paused, realizing she didn’t have much information for him. He had been there. He probably knew better than she did. 

He sighed, grimly. “How many of us were brought in?”

Nesta looked around. Nearly all of the beds were full. “About twenty of you so far. Your men are still scoping the valley now that the ambush has cleared.” 

He stayed quiet for a moment. “Casualties?”

Nesta cleared her throat. “I’ve yet to hear an update.”

His eyes remained shut as he said, “Okay. Thank you.” 

“Can I get you anything?” she asked.

“How long until I’m on my feet again?” he asked, in answer.

Nesta looked over his body, wondering if he’d make another snide, inappropriate remark. “Now that you’re awake, I’d like to examine you further.”

Cassian nodded, and tried to sit himself up, but hissed the moment his palms hit the cot, and he put pressure on them. 

“Your ulna is broken, don’t put pressure on it,” she explained. He probably hadn’t even noticed that it was wrapped, considering his eyes could hardly open and he hadn’t really taken a moment to take in his surroundings. She assumed that the entirety of his body hurt. “You also have four cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and some severe third degree burns. The bullet wounds have been cleansed, but…” 

Cassian looked at her. “But?” 

“A bullet just missed your spine.”

“Okay,” he said, slowly. “And that means?”

“That means that I need to see how your body has reacted,” she said, simply, and helped him into a sitting position. At this point, she had learned to ignore the horrid smells that came from soldiers. She wondered when the last time he’d been given the luxury to shower. She made a mental note to offer to help clean him up when she was finished with her examination. “First, we’ll check for a concussion.” 

He nodded, slowly.

“Do you have a headache?” she asked.

Cassian looked at her, and blinked. “Seriously? Look at me. Every inch of my body aches.” 

Her lips thinned but she gave him a curt nod. “What about nausea? Dizziness?” She lit a candle and held it up. “Sensitive to light?”

His eyes, already barely open to slits, closed further as he tried to turn away. “Let’s say yes to all of the above.”

She nodded, leaving the candle burning, but setting it down atop the small table beside the infirmary bed. “You’re going to to rest for the remainder of the day, after we get you cleaned up. Tomorrow, we’ll further look at your back, make a plan based on that, and go from there.”

She could tell he wanted to argue, to say they needed to begin treatment now, but his eyes were so weary. They were still glazed.

“I can get you something for the pain,” she offered.

He didn’t answer her, just asked a question of his own. “What’s your name?”

Nesta pursed her lips to suppress her laughter. “You’ve already asked me that, corporal.” 

Cassian looked up at her. “No, I didn’t.”

Nesta didn’t bother to correct him as she subtly shook her head. Concussion, indeed. “My name is Nesta Archeron. I’m a nurse.”

“I’d hope so,” he grumbled. “If you’re not a nurse, I’m afraid for my health.”

“Rest assured, I’m a nurse,” she promised. “I’ve got the certificate to prove it.”

“Were you a nurse before the war?” Cassian asked.

A lot of nurses were volunteers, with very limited training. They were tossed into battle with as little experience as the soldiers.

“I was in school for it,” she answered, simply. “Only in my second year.”

“And you stopped going to school?” He pushed. “To come here?”

“You ask a lot of questions, Corporal.”

She was ringing out the rag in a warm-ish bowl of water on the table when he spoke.

“Just trying to figure out why someone as beautiful as an angel would be willing to be dropped into pure hell with people like us.”

Nesta froze from where she’d been about to wipe down his neck and shoulder. She didn’t look at his face as she began to carefully clean the bits of burned skin. “I’m just trying to do my duty. To protect my village, and to keep my sisters from getting it into their heads that they need to join the war.”

“You must be the oldest,” he replied, hissing as she cleaned out a wound.

“I am. One of my sisters is twenty-one and the other just turned eighteen.”

“My brothers are somewhere on a battlefield.” His words were quiet, eyes distant, even as they didn’t look at her. “But I have no clue where.”

She needed to stop talking, needed to stop telling this soldier about herself and her family. He was just as likely to heal under her care and go back out and get blown up as he was to die from infection in these festering camps. “I’ll be right back, corporal.”

She tossed the rag back into the bowl, the blood staining the water pink and hurried to the large cabinet where the medications were stored. She poured water into a mug from one of the clean pitchers and mixed in a healthy dose of the powder indicated for pain relief. Carrying it back to his bed, she helped him prop up slightly. “Drink this, please.”

He did as he was told and she watched as the powder took hold.

“Trying to knock me out so I stop asking questions?” He asked, as he drank from the glass.

“Just trying to ease the pain,” she answered, simply, and helped him lay back down.

Putting that wet cloth back in the bowl, she dabbed it on Cassian’s brow, cleaning off the dried blood.

“It will do you well to get some sleep,” Nesta said. “When you wake up, I’ll get you something to eat. A new shipment should arrive soon from our neighboring camp.” 

In response, Cassian’s stomach rumbled and he was grateful for the news. “Can I ask you just one more question?”

Nesta hesitated, but nodded as she continued to wipe off the blood.

“Will you always be the one tending to me?” He asked, with a yawn.

Nesta took the emptied glass from him and said, “We are a team here, but you are in my section. We typically divide to stay organized, unless there is an emergency we will work together to save the life, to do what we can. As for rotational check ups, I will most likely be your primary caregiver, yes.”

She looked down at him and his eyes were closed, his breathing even. She shook her head, already being able to tell this corporal was a handful. 

After dropping the rag in the bowl, she began to walk away, but before she could go she heard him say, “Good.” 

[laketaj24]

Serotonin II

Author’s Note: Here it is! I am taking requests, and the taglist is open, drop your name under this fic or on this list if you are interested! This does have a prior part but can be read as a standalone.

Pairing: Colson Baker x Reader

Warning: Smut, breeding kink

Inspo Song: Bad Things

Part I

My MASTERLIST

Colson: Busy?

Y/N: Why would I be busy?

Colson: For sure ain’t been answering my texts 🥱

Y/N: You need something, Col?

Colson: You know you only call me Col when you’re half asleep or whimpering my name when you about to cum. Let me come over.

Tongue-tied, his messages left you baffled. They were a smooth variation of sexting mixed with pleading. Every message included a very Colson apology but a rebuttal that followed and reminded you why you couldn’t fall back in the same routine with him. It was easy to picture yourself back with him, nestled against his lean frame - listening to his voice as it rumbled against his chest as he rambled on. You saw it clear as day, but the truth of the matter was he didn’t do what you required to have you back in his life. Fucking you in the bathroom of some club like a whore, giving your body a fix, but your heart and mind still felt that hesitation when it came to Mr. Baker.

“Are you listening?” Dana asked, holding up the soy powder milk for your nephew.

“I heard you clear as day.”

“You sure you didn’t just daydream the entire I talked about not feeding Jaylen after seven?” Dana placed the soy milk on the table and glanced down at her newborn. “If you’re not up to it, I can stay. I hate going out of town so soon after having him.” She tapped her soon on the back a few times and exhaled.

“We will be fine.”

“You say this, but I don’t believe you.”

“Why?”

“You’re head has been shot ever since you broke up with the delinquent.” She rolled her eyes. “And what pisses me off is Tyla loves him!” She whispered and turned her attention to the seven-year-old parked in front of the tv. “I mean worships him.”

“I know. Colson is good with kids.”

“Because he’s childish.” She added. “He’s basically a six variant of one.”

“You can’t say one thing nice?”

“His music isn’t shitty,” Dana added. “I will be back at eight for the both of them, and I swear not to do this again, just my boss needs me, and their dad is busy.” She lied. “So- I love you, sis. Call Eric!” Dana kissed your cheek and sprinted out the door without another word.

Eric, you hadn’t seen him since you left the club a week ago, and you barely responded to his texts. The ride home was awkward; the entire time, he talked about how much he enjoyed the night. And the only thing you could think about was getting bent over in the bathroom by your ex. Good date.

Auntie duty had started. Diapers, Tiktok, YouTube, and some weird pig cartoon lay ahead of you for the next nine hours. Jaylen slept peacefully in his playpen, unbothered by his mother's lack while Tyla consumed her tv.

Colson: I got food open the door.

Y/N: What door?

Colson: Your apartment door. It’s Chipotle.

Fuck, you were hungry.

Y/N: Leave the food on the porch.

Colson: I’m not a god damn door dash.

The abrupt knocking startled Jaylen, soo you took him in your arms and walked to the door, “Stay in the living room Tyla.”

“K,” She answered, not even looking up from her phone.

You opened the door revealing Colson in his pink hoodie and gray joggers. He held bags of food in his hand and garnished a big smile on his face, “You look good with a baby.”

“Why are you here?”

“You wouldn’t come to see me or invite me over, so invited myself over. Can I come in?”

“No.” Jaylen stirred in your arms, his plump little legs kicked, and you sighed. “I am busy today. That’s why I didn’t invite you over. I have to keep my nieces and nephews, and every time you are over here, you either curse too much or we end up fucking.”

“Watch your mouth.” He teased.

“How were you texting with all that in your hands?” You stared at him.

“You know I got talented hands.”

“Colson!”

Why? You grimaced inwardly before looking at your overly excited niece, she loved Colson, and you hated to admit, he might be an asshole sometimes, but he loved kids. He was a wonder with them. You slapped your face, disappointed there was not a way to hide the massive man at your door. “He can’t stay.” You answered before the question left your lips.

“Why? Please!” Tyla pouted her pink lips and threw her arms up in defeat. “We never see him anymore.”

“That’s your aunt’s fault,” Colson added fuel to the fire. “I won’t stay long.” He pushed through, entering your apartment to greet Tyla with a hug at her level and a sly wink to you. Kids were the way to your heart – and his, but he would not win you over with this bullshit today. Not at all. “You hungry, Tyla?”

“Yeah, ten minutes, and you’re out.”

“Damn.”

“Tiktok?’ she held up her phone and the ring light from her purple book bag. “Please.”

“Word, what are we learning?” He raised his brows to you and proceeded to make himself comfortable on the couch; she was ecstatic, immediately standing to do a dance and drag you over to learn it too. Tiktok had become the bane of your existence, but for Tyla and her half a million followers, she was golden.

One hour later and you were tired, you’d perfected the dance, and Colson had convinced her to let him skip the dancing and just be—it was all he had to do though, she’d get one million views just because of who he was, and now everyone would know you were with him. Your heart dropped a little thinking about the exposure while she edited the video next to both of you.

“Why is Uncle Colson never around?” Tyla never looked up from her phone; she just continued her mission of posting that sixty-second video and ruining your life.

“He’s not your uncle.” You corrected.

“That’s your aunt’s fault too.” He added.

“Don’t start with me.” The harsh whisper came out as a warning, waking baby Jaylen from his nap and making Colson chuckle in amusement.

“I like him; I want him in the family.”

“I want a million dollars.”

“I can give you that.” He said.

“And a loyal boyfriend who doesn’t text insta-sluts in his spare time.”

“Don’t use sluts in front of her damn; your mouth is outrageous Y/N.”

The narrowing of your eyes made him burst into laughter again. He was damn good at annoying you like he had it mastered.

The day passed quickly with him making eyes at you, caring for Jaylen while she styled Colson’s hair in four ponytails atop his head, garnished with bows, and she even attempted to give him edges. He didn’t care; as long as she was happy, he was good.

“You look a mess.”

“It’s cool.” Colson snapped a picture. “Been waiting forever to see if ponytail was for me or not; it’s a no.” He sat back on the couch while Tyla disappeared to your room for god knows what else. “You look good with babies, you know?”

“You’ve said that.”

“I meant it; you’re good with them too.” He sighed. “I thought about kids with us, like every damn day.”

“Funny.” You shrugged, and she appeared with your bright pink polish. “What’re you doing, Tyla?”

“Painting his nails.” She plopped down in front of him, and without hesitation, he held his hand out for her. “We did blue last time.”

“Yep.” He exhaled. “Don’t you want this?”

He didn’t have to elaborate; you knew what he was talking about, but a family was the last thing from your mind, no matter how perfect the scenario looked right now. “Do you?”

Colson smacked his lips. “We can talk later.”

“You leaving when they do.” You reiterated.

The door opened thirty minutes later without a knock or doorbell; Dana never announced herself. “I see he found his way back in.” Her mouth dropped as soon as her eyes met him. “Tyla just had her way today, didn’t she.” She laughed. “Oh god, she gave this man braids.”

“Your daughter is talented.” He laughed. “Might be a new look.”

“Ridiculous.” She held her laughter. “Ty, get up and come on, love; we have a long drive.” She took Jaylen from your chest and gave you a look. “How long is he staying?”

“Not long, sis, drive safe.”

“I will. Colson, you leave in ten minutes, or I’m sending our brother over.” She pointed to him.

“I’m not scared of Michael; send him.” Why did his arrogance only make you want him more? He looked to Dana, who, like him, was not bothered.

“I hate him.” She mumbled as she left. “I just fucking hate him.”

“It’s mutual!” Colson laughed as the door shut. “You’re gonna stay over there the whole time?”

“Aint no reason for me to be over there for real.” You thought of three reasons to stay where you were, the drop in his voice, the tension in this room that could be cut with a knife, and when he was alone with you, your willpower was nonexistent. “You have five minutes.”

“We aren’t going to talk about this, are we? You like being evasive and shit? That you’re new persona?”

“I have no new persona. This is me not playing into all the bullshit you bring when you’re with me. This is a wall.”

“I’m about to knock that wall over.” He smirked.

“Stay on your couch.” You warned.

Colson held his hands up, acting defenseless, “I wasn’t moving from this spot.”

“My sister hates you, you know that? She literally said that I would be better off leaving Cali before staying here with your toxic ass.” You found yourself pointing at him and wanting to knock that smile from his face. Colson liked to see you get feisty with him; he called that foreplay, and here you were dancing to the beat of his drum, pissed.

“How am I toxic? I stopped all that shit for you, every ounce of it.”

“Stop lying.”

Colson grinned at you, unwavering in his position and impressed that you were persistent in yours; your usual fights lasted about one day. You’d take him back, and everything went back to how it was before, but that changed nothing; you wanted him to change. “I am not lying to you. Come here.”

You walked over to him, taking his hand and allowing him to pull you down in his lap. Facing him, you admired all the little cuts he’d earned over the years in senseless fights or accidents. Your fingers traced over them before you cupped his face. What the fuck were you doing? Why were the two of you akin to magnets? Drawing one another in half of the time and then at the flip of a side hating one another? You placed your lips on him, parting his lips with your tongue and then flicking playfully over his teeth before he caught your bottom lip with his teeth and tugged. The slight pressure made you moan against him. He cradled your neck with one hand, not allowing you to escape him. Colson deepened the kiss, adding pressure and taking what little breath you had away. “I fucking miss you, Y/N.” He rasped.

"Don't talk.”You murmured back.

Colson didn’t listen; he never listened.  “You were good with them today.”

You growled, grinding your hips on him. “Shut up, Colson.”

“I want to talk to you, I want you back Y/N, shit. Like I am trying, I canceled recording sessions, appearances, and other shit all this month so we can figure this out. I don’t want to-,”

You stopped him from talking, gripping his cock through the sweats with one hand and kissing him to shut up.

“Stop.” In one fluid motion, your hands were by your side, and your eyes were on his, “We’re talking; I was not fucking other women. But I was entertaining them, and it’s no excuse. I know you’re hurt; I’m sorry. Like real talk, no joke – I apologize.”

“How do I know it won’t happen again?’

“I'll delete all this shit for you,” He admitted. “Fuck a platform.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m dead ass right now. Fuck it all. I just want you.”

“If it happens again, I am never taking you back, ever.”

“It won’t.” He whispered, loosening the grip on your hands.

You took advantage of the notion, moving your hand down to his cock, rubbing the hilt through his sweats again.

“Nah,” He gripped your hair, pulling you back, so your eyes met him. “It’s my turn now.” He pushed aside your shorts in seconds, and his fingers plunged into your pussy, curling for a moment and then spinning out of you. He placed his fingers on your lips, “Open up.” You didn’t hesitate to take his fingers, licking your own juices from them, and he tapped your face sending a slight pleasurable sting. “How you taste?”

“Ready.” You pulled him from the sweats feeling him jump at your cool hands, and stood up, wriggling out of the shorts before hovering back over him again.

Colson playfully tosses you on your couch, draping one leg to the ground. “Let me taste.” He whispered as he descended between your legs. Colson’s fingers brushed your swollen clit, before his lips latched on, sucking. You bowed from the couch, the moans and scratched to his shoulders done nothing but encourage. He lapped up your juices before diving his tongue into you and swirling around. You gasped, surprised and pleased as he worked.

“Col-“ You gripped his shoulders, lifting yourself from laying down, and he took full advantage, pulling you onto his face and fucking you with his tongue. Your body coiled, the jolts of pleasure popped around your body, and then you came. The white-hot energy surged through your body, and you panted, shaking, almost collapsing back on the couch. He caught you peppering the wet kisses from your pussy to your mouth.

“You good?”

“Better than.” You whispered, breathing heavily. “ Shit.”

“We’re not done.” Of course, you weren’t; his cock throbbed against his leg, waiting to ruin your life, and here you were still out of breath. Colson gently pulled you from the couch, sitting you in his lap, and he started once again with the kisses. You could taste yourself on his lips, and for some reason, that just made you wetter for him. He took advantage of stroking himself before he lowered you down on him. You took every inch, mouth slightly open and hair swinging the entire time. You pressed your breast against his chest, savoring the warm feeling of his cock inside of you, and then you started moving on him. Your muscles clenched around, gripping him with each stroke. Your clit rubbed against his pelvic bone; you took that added pleasure in stride biting your lip as it intensified every time your skin met.

Colson’s eyes were hooked on you, his fingers dug in your ass, guiding you up and down on his cock, urging you to keep going, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop. You could feel it building once again, this time bigger. “Hold it.” He whispered, knowing you were about once more. “Not yet.”

“Ah,” Impatience grew over you; you slowed your ride, winding your hips slowly, your eyes closed as you took over, fucking up into you, guiding your body to take more. “I can’t.” You whined as you fought to hold the orgasm back.

“Yeah, you can.” He slammed into you harder, knocking the breath from you, your toes curled, and you screamed as you shook against him. “I wanna feel that pussy shake around me when I cum; hold it.” He slapped your clit with three fingers, and your breath hitched. “Hold it.” His hand travels up your shirt to your bare stomach, and he kisses you once more. “Y/N.”  His hips rocked slowly, but then he started to fuck you quicker, the tip of his dick hitting your g-spot each time. You were a screaming mess, biting down on his shoulder. That done the trick he spasms against you growling. His warm cum triggered you. You came, sinking down and taking all of it. “Shit, you cheated.”

“You would’ve lasted forever.” You smiled lazily.

“Is that a complaint or a compliment?”

“Both.”

You wince, sliding off him, “right.” He rolled his eyes. “Now we gotta eat reheated Chipotle.” he stood up, fixing his pants. “Can I stay?”

“I guess.” You pulled the blanket over you, snuggling into your favorite place on the couch. He heads into the kitchen, and you reach for your phone, wondering what threat your sister had for you.

Meg: Are you still coming tonight?

This was not your phone; of course, it wasn’t. You unlocked the phone, clicking her name to look at the messages. But there is only red as Colson makes his way back into the living room. You throw the phone across the room, hitting the wall, and he stares at you. “What the fuck?”

“Take you and that Chipotle and get out.”

“Damn, what the Chipotle do?”

  A/N: One more part coming. I’ll drop it next week, I think! Thank yall for reading! Let me know what you think!!

Taglist: @taytayize123​ @ctrlszn @supernaturalvikingwhore @jae-writes-fanfiction @bigsisbria @placeoffreedom @kyla-queen @missdforever @gottatoxicattitude @bang-kim-bap @msreshel @blowmymbackout @titty-teetee @strawberry-skyes @mauvecherie @savageiz @bang-kim-bap @luci-her @littlelovebug98 @babyboy-cody @hellshedevil @daddyavesxx @crystalbaby12 @jeonsblackgf

commenters from serotnin who might be interested: @mgkmerchstyles @mayaslifeinabox

[bookishofalder]

Unexpected

Spencer x FEM!Reader

Summary: In which Spencer and the reader have too much fun together on New Year's Eve. Leaving them both questioning their friendship, and Spencer watching the reader's weird behaviour.

Warnings: TW-Pregnancy, brief smut, drinking, CM style crime scene, fainting, hospital, language, fluff and emotions. WC-3,882

A/N-Wrote something sweet and fluffy about our favourite Doctor. Prequel here.

Spencer was watching you. He could tell you hadn’t noticed, despite being a competent profiler yourself. Which was why he was becoming exceedingly concerned.

Something about you was...off.

He hadn’t pinpointed what, just that you had been acting different for about two weeks now. As your best friend, he knew you too well to simply brush it off. And while he was hesitant to ask you, he couldn’t help but watch you for signs, anything to give away what might be going on.

After New Year's Eve, a night the two of you had agreed what you had done together had been between two friends, who had been drinking and who were both entirely single. 

You had been the one to throw a party for bringing in the New Year, insisting on the entire team coming because you wanted to show off your beautiful condo, your tasteful decorating skills. Spencer spent a lot of time at your condo, often staying the night on your ridiculously comfortable couch, and so it was no surprise that he enjoyed indulging a little too much on beverages that night, and subsequently remained overnight.

It had surprised you both, when he had closed the door on Hotch and Rossi-that last two to leave the celebration-and the quiet he’d been craving for a while settled and he pulled you into a tight embrace, his lips pressing to your head in an uncommonly affectionate display.

“You know, I think it’s customary to kiss someone when you ring in the New Year, (Y/N),” He had muttered, unthinking. The walls he built around his feelings for you, which extended beyond friendship, were thin-weakened by the alcohol.

Leaning your head back to meet his eyes, glassy and wide-eyed, you giggled, “I always thought that was silly, meant for couples to just show off how happily domestic they are!” You rolled your eyes, but you hadn’t moved out of his arms.

Spencer had cleared his throat, “It can be...friends, who care deeply, too.” He replied lamely.

And normally, this sort of conversation might have had you ruffling his hair before you moved away laughing. Not that he’d ever say anything like this if he was sober.

Instead, you had dropped your smile and something...different had glinted in your eyes before your tongue had wet your plump lips. That action had a strong effect; Spencer’s wall simply bursting open. He had pressed his lips to yours with a groan, gathering you closer in his arms. When you reacted in earnest to this, moaning softly, he lost every ounce of willpower to hold back, to stop.

But you had never asked to stop.

No, you had followed him down every path, eager and smiling, falling into bliss without hesitation. Spencer had never felt so whole, so safe. If it had been a movie, the viewers would have said it wasn’t sex, these two were making love.

But the alcohol, it had played its part in this crossing over the line, blatant disregard for the friendship you both cherished so immensely. It had aided the longing, the hidden feelings and tempted you both into relinquishing that control, that steady and routine pace of life.

Best friends fall in love. They make love. Then date, right?

Only that wasn’t the case here. You and Spencer had woken in the late morning hours of the first day of the year wrapped in one another’s arms. Naked, evidence of your activities abundant in your bedroom, on your skin where he had bite gently before laving his tongue to soothe. And you had looked at one another and tried to grip the slippery memories, bring them to the surface, but the alcohol had burned away too much of them...so you agreed, simultaneously, that these things can happen, that neither of you was upset and things could go back to normal.

It hadn’t even been awkward, and that was something that Spencer could never forget. Cuddled together, facing one another in your bed, you had simply talked. About the night, about how little you both remembered, about how you had both enjoyed it, how you loved one another as best friends should. He could have told you he was desperately in love with you, but he didn’t. You followed each other into an agreement that all was well, and nothing would ever come between you.

That had been over a month ago. Even with the limited memories, Spencer still replayed what he could in his mind over and over. The way you looked when your dress hit the floor, how you had let him lead, the expression on your face when you climbed into his lap and sunk onto him, taking every inch while his name spilled from your lips like a song. How it felt like the two of you were made for each other, your sloppy, lazy movements matching in the glow of too many vodka shots and margaritas. Blank spaces were there, but he did remember the moment you both reached your peak, together, moving your hips to meet and draw the feeling of oblivion out as long as you could.

He remembered saying he loved you. He just didn’t know if you had heard him.

Standing in the conference room of the Central Florida Police Department, on a case, Spencer was watching you from across the room. Listening as Hotch spoke, but his eyes assessing the way your hand move to the back of your neck as if you had a headache, the surprise in your face when you noticed you were sweating. You pulled a hairband from your pocket and secured your long locks into a casual ponytail.

Nothing had changed between Spencer and you since New Year's Eve. You still spent all of your free time together, still watched Doctor Who and went to bookshops for hours, shared a double room on cases. And yet, two weeks ago Spencer noticed small changes, things that as a profiler he knew not many would also notice, and yet still concerning. He couldn’t even pinpoint the cause, maybe that was why he was so focused on figuring you out. Because while you smiled at him the same, laughed with him, hugged him-you still didn’t seem yourself.

You had been having headaches more frequently, a little pucker between your brows appearing before you inevitably gave in and took Tylenol. You weren’t eating as much, but you were drinking a lot of water-that was something even Hotch had noticed, commenting one day when you had slipped back into a meeting with a refilled water bottle in hand. You had laughed it off, unbothered.

But Spencer had frowned, his suspicions rising.

There were more subtle changes as well, your skin had seemed clearer but your cheeks were always flushed. You had always been a good hugger, but you didn’t pull others as close to you as you usually would, occasionally wincing even when you thought no one was paying attention. The final straw that convinced him something was going on was your moods.

You had always been a very even-tempered person, especially at work. While you had strong emotions, you kept them at bay as needed. But he had counted exactly eight incidents where he saw your eyes fill with tears that did not warrant those reaction-emotional commercials or a kind word from Hotch on performance. You had blinked them back each time, just as surprised to find yourself crying as he was. And suddenly, you had a bit of a temper too, something that reared its ugly head in the forms of road rage, or impatience with local police staff. Morgan had joked that you were finally growing into your bossy side, but Spencer didn’t agree.

He just didn’t know what the hell was wrong with you. And he was afraid to upset you, to cross a line, if he asked you. You told him everything; whatever this was, he could wait for you to talk to him. At least, that’s what he constantly told himself.

“Thanks, Garcia, can you send-?” Hotch was saying, but Garcia cut him off with her usual cheeriness.

“Coordinates already sent to your phones, Garcia over and out!”

The line went dead and Hotch ended the call, tucking his phone into his pants, “Okay guys, gear up.”

Things moved at a regular pace after that, the team ready to bring in a dangerous unsub, who may or may not be at the house they were about to raid. Gearing up, Spencer and you were separated in different cars but teamed together once you were on location.

Standing in the mid-afternoon Florida heat was uncomfortable, the house they were surrounding had no trees, no shade to attempt to find reprieve. And based on the condition of the exterior, Spencer very much doubted this home had central A/C circulating fresh, cool air. You stood next to him in your vest, eyes focused on the house before you glanced up to meet his eyes, give him a gentle smile.

“Ready, doc?” You cheeked.

Spencer returned your smile, “Should be a good opportunity to see some of the potential beach houses we could rent for a vacation.” He gestured at the dilapidated bungalow. You giggled, lowering your head to press to his arm in an attempt to hide your silliness, keeping your voice low.

“Spence, there’s no beach here.”

“Then why in all the world is the street called Beach Street?” He deadpanned.

At this, you snorted, one hand gripping his arm now, trying your best to hide away from Hotch, who was still talking to the Sargent and hadn’t noticed the exchange. Spencer smiled, a rush of relief running through him every time you acted like yourself. He hoped he was just seeing things that weren’t there because of what had happened on New Year's Eve, his mind trying to torture him for it all getting so out of control. You were fine.

“Alright, let’s go!” Hotch barked, instantly snapping you both back into work mode.

Spencer had been right, unfortunately. You and he entered through the back door, which leads off the kitchen, and the house completely reeked. The steamy air simply swallowed you both when you stepped inside the dirty room, both on high alert and yet still trying not to focus on the smell, on the sound of flies.

Perhaps this was the first moment Spencer should have realized you were not, in fact, fine. But when you began to breathe steadily from your mouth next to him, he brushed it off-maybe it helped you keep your head clear in this cesspool of rotten, unkempt living.

When the main floor was cleared, silently, Hotch and Prentiss were the first to breach the basement. Climbing down the curved staircase carefully before you and Spencer and the rest of the team followed, then splitting off into groups to search the rooms. The basement was large, and it was a very uncommon thing to have a basement in this part of the world- which was one of the red flags they had spotted when narrowing down a geo-profile for the unsub.

Morgan and JJ were behind you and Spencer, watching your backs as you cleared the meagre laundry room, then the furnace room. Down a final hallway, one door stood unchecked, and you approached ahead of Spencer, kneeling for a moment to turn the knob quietly, allowing him and Morgan to burst in first and call for the man inside to freeze.

They had known this man was a butcher, a sadistic man who enjoyed cutting his victims up like it was an art. Walking into his kill room was like stepping into a preview of Hell itself, the dirty and blood-spattered surfaces nothing compared to the site of rotting flesh hanging from the ceiling, dripping fluids on the concrete floor while the butcher no doubt worked at the table that sat in the centre of the room. He was standing there now, hands raised, his latest victim already dead-for a while, it seemed-a yellow-stained smile that didn’t meet his eyes stretching his mottled face.

This was Spencer’s second clue that you weren’t fine. As you hiccuped next to him, catching his eyes as Morgan cuffed the butcher, JJ holding her gun stead on Spencer’s other side. He looked you over and you seemed to be biting something back, and he wondered if maybe you wanted to say something to the butcher, to call him a monster.

Only, then he saw the colour was draining from your cheeks. He could hear the others in the hall behind them, so he holstered his gun and turned to you, watching as you lowered your weapon.

Your hands were shaking.

“(Y/N)?”

You looked up at him now and Spencer immediately felt a shiver shoot down his back; your pupils were pin-pricks, your face now far too pale, but your expression was so devastating like you couldn’t understand what was happening.

“D-dizzy...” And then you fainted, your gun falling from your hands, and Spencer was catching you while screaming out for Hotch, for medics. He caught you and quickly raised you into his arms, knowing he needed to get you outside of this putrid basement, into fresher air. JJ and Hotch were right by his side as he sprinted outside, lowering you to the grass before seeking out your pulse. It was steady but slow and a little weak.

He was still saying your name but you weren’t waking up, and then the medics were there and they checked your eyes and you still didn’t wake up. Spencer didn’t realize he was groaning as if in pain, his mind running through the last two weeks and questioning every moment he had seen, every symptom he thought was related to what the two of you had done together.

Had he been so blinded that he missed a real condition? You were younger than Spencer by a few years, healthy and active. What hadn’t he seen?

At the hospital, what felt like hours passed but in reality was merely fifty minutes-minutes that Spencer spent pacing angrily, proclaiming his stupidity to his colleagues, unloading the burden of his worries on them when it now felt too late.

They knew they could say nothing to comfort him, and so none of them tried, they simply listened. Occasionally one of them would brush his arm as he passed, a small gesture of affection. Spencer barely noticed.

“(Y/F/N) family?” A young doctor called, and the entire BAU stood instantly, allowing Spencer to shoot forward. The doctor didn’t hesitate, “You must be the husband?”

Spencer didn’t even hear her, “Is she alright?” His voice sounded coarse, strained. He held his breath.

She gave a small smile, “Yes, she’s just being settled into her room. She’s suffered a bad case of...exhaustion and mixed with the conditions of the home you described to the medics on your way here, I’m not surprised she fainted. She’ll need to stay overnight, we’re going to get her fluids back up and monitor the-her heart rate, get some food into her. Mainly, she needs to rest. Once she’s released I expect I’ll be assigning her bed rest for a few weeks.”

Spencer didn’t remember the ambulance ride over, just that he had been the one to go, his eyes never leaving you, not until the door closed that led into the staff-only area of the hospital. Had he really told them of the house? “Can I please see her?”

The doctor patted his arm, “Of course, follow me.”

You already looked so much better, the flush back in your cheeks and a small smile on your face when Spencer appeared in the doorway, drinking in the sight of you alive and well and beautiful, so beautiful. You were left alone, the doctor closing the door as she left, and before you could speak Spencer launched himself across the room and gently pulled you into a hug, being mindful of the IV line. Your heart monitor spiked, a sound he was very happy to hear.

“Sweet girl,” He breathed, kissing your head, your cheek, your hand, “I’m so sorry, I knew something was off with you and now the doctor said it’s exhaustion and I missed the signs, I thought I was being idiotic and then you-“

“Spence,” You pressed your hands to his face, and he carefully sat down on the bed, leaning over you, “I’m okay, this isn’t your fault.” You were so sweet.

Spencer shook his head despite the kind and sincere expression on your face, “I should have mentioned that I thought you seemed weird, maybe we could have prevented this.”

You were shaking your head now, a funny smile on your face, “We couldn’t have prevented this. I mean...” You broke off, looking away as if searching for the words you wanted to say. Spencer brushed the hair from your forehead, waiting for you to speak. “When I said this isn’t your fault, well Spence, it kind of is?”

Spencer stared at you, entirely confused. Your words should have cut through him, but that smile on your face made no sense. He watched as you seemed to steel yourself. “(Y/N)? What is it?” He took your hands into his, concerned, and at a complete loss.

For a moment, you stared back into his eyes, an unreadable storm of emotions within them. You leaned back into your cushions, took a deep breath, “I want you to know, Spencer Reid-that I am so, so in love with you,” You never looked away as Spencer froze, his mouth popping open in surprise. “You’re always going to be my best friend, no matter what, but New Years Eve-what I can remember-was the best night of my life. I can’t stop thinking about you, I never could really but now that I know, w-what I do about you, how it feels to be with you, it’s like I can’t get you out of my head. I love you.”

You were so brave, he thought at that moment. You never broke your gaze, your hands squeezing his as you spoke, as you eviscerated Spencer entirely with your beautiful words. He gulped in air, but it wouldn’t reach his lungs. You had just told him you were in love with him...that you thought about him, about that night, just like he did of you. Never, ever did he think that was what you were going to say, that you could feel the same. Never.

“Oh, sweet girl,” He finally gasped, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours in a soft, sweet kiss before pulling back slightly, “I should have told you that morning, when we woke up-I love you too, so much. I felt like we left that night with nothing, despite how it meant everything to me. You mean everything to me, (Y/N).”

Your eyes had filled with tears that now leaked down your cheeks, “Well, we didn’t leave that night with nothing...we...Spencer, I’m pregnant.” Your sentence rushed out and he felt the air evaporate within him, his entire body going rigid.

He just stared at you, waiting for the punchline, but you were giving him this knowing, somewhat empathetic look.

You weren’t kidding.

Like a tidal wave, his stupid genius brain finally pieced together all of your symptoms, the water, the appetite, sweating and headaches and the fucking mood swings. “I-(Y/N), how-?”

You laughed, not unkind as you reached up with one hand and cupped his cheek, “When two people love each other, they-“

Spencer cut off your joke, “No, I remember, you have an IUD.”

You sighed, still smiling, “They did a scan, looks like it’s not in place properly, which they said could happen. They removed it, today. And then they told me.”

Spencer could feel himself choking up, emotions swirling around, overwhelming him. And yet, he could see that even though he hadn’t responded to the news yet, you remained unbothered because you just understood him so well. Understood that it took time for some things to sink in for him. Your thumb brushed softly across his cheek, your other hand still squeezing his, keeping him grounded.

“You’re pregnant.” He said it aloud, stated it, then felt himself brighten, “You’re pregnant with our baby.” He didn’t realize the wetness on his face was his tears, not until you wiped at them with your thumb, now beaming at him.

“I’m pregnant with our baby-it’s been almost five weeks, so it’s still very early, but because I didn’t think, I didn’t realize-“ You broke off then, joy quickly turned to sadness.  “They said that everything looks just fine, that I just overdid it and now that I know I can start doing, all of the stuff you do for this, but I feel so stupid. I thought I was experiencing physical reactions to the stress and guilt I felt for what we did, for almost ruining-“

Spencer cut in, “No, no sweet girl, this isn’t your fault, you aren’t stupid-you’re perfect.” He refused to let you blame yourself, “And most people who aren’t trying to get pregnant don’t notice those symptoms for what they are right away. It’s entirely normal that you assumed what you did, it’s what I thought too.”

At this, you locked your eyes to his again, frowning, “How could we both be so ridiculous?”

Spencer laughed, taking your head into his hand and hugging you to his chest, “I can’t believe this, I really can’t.” His mind was swirling, so many thoughts rushing forward as he holds you close. Knowing you felt the same had his heart soaring already. But you were going to have his baby, be a mother. He was going to be a father.

Your arms snaked up to circle his neck, where you tucked your head, pulling him from his thoughts “I know we weren’t expecting this...I just need you to know-“

“I think I should move in.”

You jerked back from Spencer in surprise, eyes comically wide, “You want to move in?” You were smiling at him. He looked at you closely, holding your gaze.

“I’m there all the time anyway, and if you’re carrying my baby then I have a lot of responsibility now, I understand if you aren’t ready. But I’d like to take care of you, both of you. And I never want to come home to a place where you don’t live, (Y/N).”

You were fully crying now, cute sniffles surrounding your reply, “Yes, Spe-Spencer, you can move in, I’d love that.”

He hugged you again, and the two of you sat together in a state of complete content. Spencer had never been happier in his life, and he knew that even though he could barely remember the best night of his life, he was going to cherish it forever knowing that it led to this, the best day of his life he was never going to forget.

Did you enjoy this story? Please consider reblogging or commenting to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Likes are basically just a bookmark!

PREQUEL

[lightsovermonaco]

Patience is a Virtue (NSFW Max Verstappen)

Masterlist

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to @acollectionofficsandshit !!! Last minute present, which hasn’t been beta’d, but I hope you enjoy ♥

Max had been so busy the past few weeks, what with preseason testing and gearing up for the first race in less than a week. You had not been able to attend testing this year, Red Bull having only allowed essential personnel to travel to Bahrain. It had been two weeks since you had seen Max’s face in person instead of being separated by phone screens. 

Considering Max’s packed schedule, you had fully expected to celebrate your birthday alone. It had been enough of a surprise that he had shown up at the door of the apartment you shared in Monaco earlier that day, having flown home from London to help you celebrate. You had lounged about watching cheesy movies and trading kisses all day before Max had informed you he had something to show you.

“No peeking,” Max said, one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hip as he guided you along. “Step down.”

Cautiously, you feel with the toe of your shoe for the step. Seagulls crow and you can smelly the briny sea, but that could mean you were anywhere in the city. You didn't have any definitive context clues as to where you were. 

“Where are you taking me?”

“I told you it’s a surprise. Was the whole “close your eyes’ thing not clear?” He squeezed your shoulder. “Besides, we’re here.”

“I can open my eyes?” You asked, wanting to be certain. Max’s whispered affirmation was a wisp of breath against your neck.

Your eyes blinked open, taking a moment to adjust to the brightness of the setting sun. Max’s arms wound around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder. A small table set for two sat on a sandy private beach, complete with flickering candles and a waiter standing by.

“Daniel came up with this, didn’t he?” You teased, placing your hand on his corded forearm.

“He may have helped with the specifics,” He conceded, and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Charles is the one that let me borrow his villa.” 

You hummed in appreciation of the gesture. “So you are friends.”

“Jury’s still out on that one.”

You laughed and let Max lead you to the table. He pulled out your chair, letting you get settled before leaning in for a kiss. Being apart for so long had made him more affectionate than usual. Not that you were complaining.

Glasses of wine were poured before the waiter retreated back to the house, presumably to give you and Max privacy. Max leaned back, letting the last dregs of sunlight warm his face. It was the most beautiful sight you had ever seen.

Your eyes traced the line of his neck, up the angle of his strong, stubbled jaw. Muscles rippled as he took off his signature flat-brimmed cap, running his fingers through his hair before replacing it backwards on his head. And god, you could’ve jumped on him right there. Noticing your stare, Max grinned, his foot finding yours under the table.

“Keep undressing me with your eyes like that and we won’t get to enjoy the lovely meal Daniel planned out.” You bit your lip to suppress your smile. Your assumption that Max hadn’t come up with this on his own was right, then. It was far too cheesy for it to have been all his idea.

You reached for his hand, threading your fingers together. “Maybe I’d rather undress you and eat at home.”

“Daniel would be upset that his efforts went to waste.” Mischief glinted in Max’s baby blues.

“I wouldn’t call them wasted,” You murmured, running your bare foot up Max’s calf. “After you leave tomorrow, I’ll be all alone for another week. I think Daniel would understand if I had other activities in mind for tonight.”

Max leaned back and stretched his arms over his head, fully aware that he was torturing you. Your mouth watered from more than just the delicious smell of grilled steak. A wicked grin split his face. “We’re having dinner,” He said, tone leaving no room for a challenge.

“But-”

He moved lightning quick, his hand gripping your thigh under the table. “I said we’re having dinner. Understood?”

“Yes,” You breathed, heart pounding. The dominance in his voice melted any protests that had sprang to your lips.

“Good girl,” He murmured, then sat back like nothing had happened when the server brought out your meal. As soon as Max thanked him, you dug in. Golden, perfectly seasoned potatoes and carrots, and a perfectly cooked steak with a delicious, sweet sauce. You shoveled it in, eager to get home.

“Take your time,” Max warned. “Or you’ll just be sitting there while I finish mine.” Indeed, he cut his steak agonizingly slow, deliberately dragging it out. You tried to match his leisurely pace, but couldn’t keep your mind from wandering. Your leg bounced impatiently. Max once more gripped your thigh, giving you a stern look.

“Patience is a virtue.”

Silence dominated the last of the meal, your body lined with tension. You couldn’t wait to get him home, having wanted to do so since the moment he turned that damned hat backwards. The sun had set by the time he tipped the waiter. You practically lept from your seat when he stood, grabbing his hand and racing for the street.

Max was stronger than you, of course, and when he dug his heels into the sand you had no choice but to halt. “I said patience, my schat.” My treasure.

Your stomach flipped. Just when you thought you couldn’t want him more, he pulled out the rarely used Dutch term of endearment that never failed to drive you wild. You had to get him home, or else you’d beg for him to take you right there on the beach in front of Charle’s vacant home.

Reading the plea on your face, Max relented with a sigh. “Alright, we won’t take a walk along the water like I planned.” He waved a hand. “You know the way home.”

You wound through the streets with practiced ease, your feet having traveled the path between Charles’ home and your apartment countless times. At one point you had to stop at a street crossing, bouncing on your toes.

The hand Max placed on your ass made you freeze. “Anxious?” He murmured, breath tickling your neck. You only nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You could only imagine what he would do to you when you were alone.

After two more agonizing blocks, you were home. You rounded on Max the second the door closed behind you, lips crashed to his and your hands tugging his shirt up. Setting his cap on the kitchen counter, you left a trail of clothing from the front door to the threshold of the bedroom. Stripped down to your underwear, you wound your arms around Max’s neck and jumped, wrapping your legs around him.

He caught you with a grin. “Happy birthday, baby.”

“Uh huh,” You replied automatically, jerking your head towards the bed. Max took the hint, laying you back and stripping off his shorts and boxers, leaving him bare before you. The beauty of his body never ceased to amaze you, no matter how many times you saw it.

Max sank to his knees at the edge of the bed, eyes never leaving yours as he slid his hands behind your calves and pulled. You gasped, legs falling open. The sudden heat of his breath on your core shocked your system, sending a shiver up your spine. “Please,” You whispered. 

Your knee jerked when his lips met your inner thigh, dangerously close to where you needed him. His mouth trailed up to your hip, where he bit down hard enough to leave a mark. You gasped again, hips rising off the mattress.

“T-tease,” You breathed, head spinning like a top.

“Makes it sweeter when I finally feast.”

And feast he did.

Max had your panties off in record time, immediately dragging his tongue through your slick folds. His nose bumped your clit with each swirl of his tongue. A low moan tore from your throat. Reaching down, you tangled your fingers in his chocolate hair and encouraged him further with the grinding of your hips to his face. His hum of approval rocked through you, snipping the thread of sanity you’d been clinging to.

Your thighs tightened around his head when he slipped a finger inside you, his tongue devouring your clit like it was his last meal. He tapped thrice on your knee, his silent signal that he wanted your eyes on him. It took every ounce of your willpower to meet his request, gazing down at him between your legs.

His confident wink sent you over the edge, golden pleasure coursing through you hot as a wildfire. His tongue lapped at your center, letting you ride through the pleasure. Only when you whimpered softly did he remove his finger and mouth, his chest heaving.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He asked, words coated in desire. You managed a nod. “Turn over.”

You tried to obey, you really did, but your limbs wouldn’t cooperate. With a growl of impatience, Max flipped you on your stomach. Fingers dug into your flesh as he hauled you up by the hips, face to the bed but ass in the air.

You rock your hips back, brushing the length of his cock. “That’s my girl.”

In one swift movement, he seats himself to the hilt inside you. You don’t need any time to adjust, thankfully, because Max doesn’t waste a second. The obscene sounds of skin on skin fills the room as he slams into you. Fingers tangled in your hair yank you to your elbows, and you looked over your shoulder at Max. 

His name was a plea, the only word in your vocabulary as he fucked you senseless. The sting of your scalp was a sharp contrast to the delicious pleasure flooding through you with each thrust of his hips. More than once your limbs turned to jelly, relying on Max to hold you up. He angled his hips to hit that sweet spot inside you with each thrust.

“Max, please-”

“Fuck, I never get tired of how wet you get for me,” Max grunted, increasing his pace until the force of it was enough to make you see stars. “Such a good girl, always ready for me when I want you.”

The praise had your walls tightening on his cock, a whimper escaping your throat. "M-Max-"

"Me too," He grunted, slamming into you twice more before spilling his seed inside you. He gave a few lazy strokes as you followed his lead, your second orgasm of the night draining any energy you had left. Max eased out of you and ran a cloth he had grabbed from the nightstand between your legs. 

"I could use a shower after that," You murmured. Max's rumbling laughter sounded at your ear.

"That can be arranged, birthday girl."

[cardansriddle]

Draco- Secret little rendezvous

Request: May I request a SlytherinPrefect!Draco x GryffindorPrefect!reader smut in the prefects bathroom? Ajakdkdk the place seems so smut worthy

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kiddos) also not proofread because I have shit tons of hw to do, bear with me.

I slammed the portrait shut to the Prefect’s bathroom, letting out a string of curses as I started undressing hurriedly. Umbridge has been getting on my last nerves, and it took every ounce of my willpower to not lunge at her and Avada the toad looking woman.

The water was warm when I dipped my toes in, and I didn’t hesitate before diving into the water and brushing my hair back once I resurfaced. My tense muscles relaxed immediately, and I sighed a deep breath of relief as I felt my anger being washed away. I closed my eyes and let myself enjoy the bath, trying to forget the torture the toad put us through.

My relaxed state didn’t last long, as the portrait door opened and my eyes snapped open. I yelped at the unexpected presence and shrieked further when I realized just who it was.

Malfoy looked just as surprised to see me there as much as I was. I sank into the water so he couldn’t see anything above my neck.

“Get out!” I yelled at him when he continued to stare at me dumbfoundedly. “How the hell did you even get here?!” I shrieked and a small smirk made an appearance on his lips.

“It wasn’t locked.” He shrugged simply. “Get out, I’ve had a long day and I want to bath.” He commanded, inching closer to the giant bath. I quickly gathered bubbles around me for modesty’s sake and glared heatedly at the blonde.

“Bullying children became hard for you now? Anyway, I don’t care. I was here first, so for Merlin’s sake, get out!” I gestured to the door, sending him the darkest look I could muster to get my point across.

“I guess we’ll share it then.” He said simply and I watched horrified as he started unbuttoning his shirt slowly. My eyes were drawn to his ring clad hands as I swallowed.

“I’m not bathing with you! Where the hell are your bloody manners, Malfoy?”

His hands stilled as his eyes caught mine. He tilted his head a bit, studying me with his piercing eyes. I squirmed under his gaze and tried not to look away first.

“Either get out or shut up and let us both relax.” He snapped at last before discarding his shirt, his eyes still on mine. I tried to fight the blush that was threatening to taint my cheeks and instead I raised my chin and held eye contact. Even as he discarded his pants. Even as he got out of his boxers.

I did not dare look down, knowing that I would immediately get flustered if I did so. He got in the water, dipping his head in and resurfacing with wet hair. I tried to convince myself that the sight of him in front of me with his bare chest and wet hair was not arousing, but my body wouldn’t listen. The fact that we were both in the same bath, completely bare was dawning on me slowly.

I tore my gaze away from him. He was Malfoy for fuck’s sake! What the hell was I thinking? If Harry, Ron or Hermione ever found out about this, they would not only question my sanity but probably disown me as a friend. I should’ve hexed him as soon as he stepped a foot in here.

“Why so tense?” He mocked, running a hand through his platinum blonde hair. I rolled my eyes instead of answering him and leaned my head back, closing my eyes. Sure, Malfoy was hot, but I still had my morals. I wouldn’t betray my frien-

The splashing of water cut my thoughts short, and I gasped once I realized Malfoy was right in front of me, in very close proximity.

“What are you doing?” My voice came out breathless. He cocked his head to the side with a small smirk before getting even closer. His nose was brushing mine at this point. I was trapped. The wall of the pool was cold against my back as I pressed myself into it, trying to put as much distance as possible between Malfoy and me because I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself once his lips touched mine. I knew kissing him would be the final nail in my coffin and it terrified me.

His skin was glistening, little droplets of water dripping down his face. “I know you want me.” He lowered his voice, eyes glinting with a dangerous spark.

With the last drop of my willpower, I put my hands on his chest and tried to push him away, but he grabbed my wrists roughly and slammed his lips on mine.

The oxygen was punched straight out of my lungs at the feverish pitch of his lips pressed against mine. His soft lips felt euphoric, like silk and sandpaper. One of his ring clad fingers grabbed my jaw, while the other ran down my sides like he was trying to memorize every inch of my body until his hand reached my thigh. He wrapped his demanding hand around the underside of it, making me lock my legs around his narrow hips.

Reflexively, my arms shot up to wrap around his neck for support, gripping the hair at his nape and tugging on it. He emitted a low groan, and I squeezed my thighs tighter around him.

We pulled away to catch our breaths, panting heavily. “Fuck, Malfoy. We can’t.” I whispered, but despite my words, I didn’t release my hold on him.

He put his mouth on my shoulder murmuring against my skin. “Then tell me to stop.” He said. His words were met with silence and I felt him smirk against my skin. He nipped my shoulder causing me to gasp. His touch was electrifying, awakening every nerve in my body. “You’re literally wrapped around me in a bath, I think you can call me Draco.” I groaned and pulled at his hair, making him move his head back so I could kiss him again.

Draco wasted no time in kissing me back. He teased his tongue against my bottom lip and I didn’t hesitate in granting him access. He darted his tongue inside my mouth, and the taste of him was enough to leave me feeling mindlessly drunk.

“Draco” I moaned. “I want you.” I breathed out once his mouth attached to my neck, sucking and kissing, no doubt trying to mark me as his. I moaned at the sensation.

“What do you want?” I felt his hot breath on the surface of my neck. “Tell me.” I groaned. How the hell did he expect me to forma conherent sentence when he was grinding against me like this?

“I want you to fuck me.” I managed to get out at last. 

“Fuck.” I heard him curse, before I felt him reach down between us to line his member against my entrance, slightly teasing me as I waited in anticipation.

He slid into me agonizingly slow, growling deep in his throat once he was fully inside. He gave me a few second to adjust before I started moving my hips, encouraging him to move. He complied without a second thought, his wet hair sticking to his forehead as he started thrusting into me, increasing his pace with each one.

“Draco...” His name slid out like a prayer. In response, he brought one of his hand up,wrapping his ring clad fingers around my throat. The action turned me on even more, if that was even possible. The sound of the water splashing as his hips slammed against mine and lips moulding together echoed throughout the large bathroom and I untangled my hands from the nape of his neck so I could scratch his back, causing him to moan in my mouth.

His pace quickened, hitting a particular spot that made my toes curl. I arched my back against him, moving my head back as my eyes rolled back from the pleasure. 

“I...I’m...” He didn’t finish what he was saying, but I understood, because I was close too. “Fuck.” He cursed as he came, saying my name repeatedly with sloppy thrusts, and it wasn’t long before I followed with my own release as well.

He dropped his head on my shoulder still buried inside me. I sighed before smiling slightly, curling my fingers into his hair.

“Come to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow.” His husky voice broke the silence. My eyebrows shot up in surprise at his request and I chuckled before replying.

“That’s not how it works, Draco. You’re supposed to ask me, not order me.” I said, and grinned when he growled in displeasure. 

“Fine, come to Hogsmeade with me?” 

I ran my hands through his hair as I replied with a simple ‘yes’, all worries about how my friends would react gone for the moment as we simply soaked in each other’s company.

That was when I admitted that perhaps, there is a fine line between hatred and sexual tension.

[nctsjiho]

Sleeping Beauty

warnings: none

era: fall of 2020

❀ Shotaro gets tasked with carrying a sleepy JiHo back to her dorm

It’s interesting how people can grow so comfortable with each other so quickly. Maybe it’s the environment that comes along with being a K-pop idol; Being in a practise room for hours together, helping each other with lyrics and difficult choreography during afterhours. Needless to say, idols spend a lot of time with their members – whether they like it or not.

JiHo had met Shotaro less than a year ago, yet somehow they just clicked. Of course being half Japanese and speaking the language fluently made it so Shotaro naturally gravitated towards the female member, but even besides that, he genuinely felt comfortable around JiHo. Although she gave the impression that she’s older than him, because she had been taking care of him ever since they met, Shotaro would always see the sweet, cute side of JiHo. The same side that made him feel protective over her.

It was late when the group had finished day one of their NCT World shoots. With all the energy they had left, the group climbed in their respective cars and made their way back to the dorms.

Caught up in a calm conversation with his manager, Doyoung started to notice how the older man kept stealing glances at the rear view mirror. His curiosity spiked once he noticed the soft smile on his manager’s face, prompting him to look back towards the people in the back seats.

Looking past a sleeping Johnny and Haechan, he noticed the two youngest members – currently in the car – snuggled up into each other. JiHo’s head rested on Shotaro’s shoulder, while his head rested on hers. Doyoung also noticed how Shotaro wasn’t wearing a jacket, instead the piece of clothing was placed on both of their laps. Well, more so on JiHo’s than his, but it didn’t seem to bother him as the two continued to sleep peacefully.

“They’ve gotten really close.” The manager said in a hushed tone, causing Doyoung’s head to snap back to the front. “Hmm.” He hummed in agreement. “I’ve never seen JiHo like this though. At least not so quickly.” “What do you mean?” The manager asked. “She’s close with the other members as well, but seeing her literally cuddled up with someone. I’ve never seen that. I guess she only does it with Yuta hyung and Jungwoo sometimes, but Jungwoo is usually forcing it on her.” He chuckled remembering the times JiHo protested while Jungwoo pulled her into hugs for movie nights. She’d eventually give in, but being asleep cuddled up was usually territory the members didn’t visit when it came to JiHo.

Now the manager hummed, but a sudden thought interrupted him. “Doesn’t she hug the members more now? Like, every time I see Lucas and JiHo he has her in his arms.” This time it’s the manager’s time to laugh. “Well yes, she’s gotten used to skinship a lot with the group. But sleeping? She usually doesn’t like being hugged or touched in her sleep.” Doyoung’s eyes fall back on the sleeping duo. “It’s only been a few months since JiHo and Taro met too, I’m surprised they are this close.” “Don’t you think it’s nice though? He’s new, but JiHo’s been his support system.” Doyoung just nodded, the cute visual in front of him was hard to look away from.

“Want to know something funny?” Doyoung’s ears and eyes perked up and he nodded. “The staff call JiHo the boys’ little mascot. She’s always cheering everyone on and making sure everyone is feeling alright. Definitely Shotaro and Sungchan these days.” A big smile washed over Doyoung’s face. “She really is.”

A sudden shake of Jiho’s arm woke her up. As soon as she opened her eyes she noticed the car had stopped moving and she heard the two figures next and in front of her talk, but she was to disorientated to make actual sense out of anything. “W-What’s…“ She mumbled and she heard the two people chuckle. “JiHo we’re at home, let’s go inside.” Doyoung explained.

The three members had made it out of the car – rather slowly one would say – when Doyoung noticed the current state JiHo was in. She could barely stand on her own two feet yearning for support, which she received in the form of Shotaro’s stretched out arm. The girl could also hardly keep her eyes open. Realising JiHo would be having a hard time getting up to the dorm without help, Doyoung looked at Johnny in the hopes he could carry her up, but the tall guy was busy supporting an equally as sleepy Haechan inside the building.

This time Doyoung’s eyes fell onto Shotaro. The Japanese boy was sporting an amused smile as well as a loving glint in his eyes as he watched JiHo try her hardest to keep herself up straight. “Taro?” Doyoung said in a hushed tone. “Yes, hyung.” He quickly answered, his eyes wide looking like a kid who got caught stealing a cookie out of the cookie jar – a sight so endearing and maybe too common but the members, and fans, wouldn’t have it any other way. “Could you help JiHo up?” Shotaro quickly nodded and turned to the sleepy girl.

“JiHo, let’s go up hmm?” He said in Japanese and JiHo nodded. They only took one step before JiHo stopped. “What’s wrong?” Shotaro asked noticing that JiHo wasn’t budging even if he slightly pulled her forward. “Too tired.” Her answer was in Korean. “I know that’s why we should go upstairs.” It took every ounce of willpower not to tease JiHo in her current drowsiness. Shotaro always thought of JiHo as cute, but right now she was just adorable. “I can’t.” “What do you want me to do then?”

Helplessness started to settle in as he saw Doyoung had already left the parking garage to get to his dorm as quickly as possible. JiHo had invited Shotaro to stay over since they had a schedule together the next day anyway, so Doyoung had no problem leaving JiHo with the boy. They’d find their way to the dorm, he was sure of it. It might just take a little longer, but the moment Doyoung left the parking lot, that wasn’t his problem anymore.

Once Shotaro looked back at JiHo he saw her hands reaching up. “Carry me.” The comment was Shotaro’s prove that JiHo was sleep drunk. No, not drunk, absolutely wasted. Never in her right mind would she ask Shotaro to carry her, and definitely not with, what some would call ‘aegyo’ but knowing JiHo would refuse to admit it, a better way to refer to it was, a hint of cuteness.

Shotaro didn’t know if he was supposed to be shocked or embarrassed. And even tough he felt a slight blush creep up on his cheeks, he just found it endearing yet amusing.

He turned his back towards the girl and squatted down, his arms reaching back to support the girl. “Get on my back, I’ll give you a piggy back ride.” With his back facing JiHo he sadly had to miss the loopy smile on her face as she climbed onto his back.

“Where’s JiHo and Taro?” Taeyong asked. He had reached the dorm earlier, having taken another car to the dorm. His transport arrived about 10 minutes earlier, sparing him enough time to take a shower before his other roommates arrived.  “I left him to help JiHo up. She could barely walk.” Doyoung said in an exhausted tone. He had plopped himself down on the couch as soon as he entered the living room. “Shouldn’t you have helped her?” The leader chuckled sitting down next to Doyoung. “Couldn’t be bothered.”

Just then Taeyong watched the door open and there emerged a Shotaro with a sleeping (?) JiHo on his back. “Need some help?” Taeyong laughed seeing the young boy struggle to take his shoes off. “I got it, don’t worry, but thanks.” He didn’t fail to send Taeyong one of his cute smiles – eye smile included – and then disappeared into JiHo’s bedroom. “They’ve gotten close.” Taeyong turned to Doyoung who seemed to be loosing his battle with sleep. “Yeah…” The tired boy mumbled. Taeyong then got up, slapping Doyoung’s butt in passing while walking to his bedroom. “Get up and head to bed before I have to carry you like Johnny did Haechan and Taro did JiHo.” An amused smile played on his lips as Doyoung slowly got up and dragged his feet to bed.

---

Side note: Hello Future is so good 🌈🌻

[fruitcoops]

Remus gets injured in a game. I have literally read everything you have written but i'm not sure if you have wrote one like this. If you have, ANOTHER PLZZ

Hello anon! I wove this together with a couple different prompts, listed below:

1. Coops argument

2. Prompt 21: “You need to eat something”

3. Remus gets in a fight with Snape

4. Protective Sirius

5. Coops going home grumpy after losing a game (see link)

Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove! TW for fights, blood, bruises, arguments, and someone getting called a wh*re

Snape’s cheek gave easily beneath Remus’ fist, which was a tad bit surprising. He wrapped his other hand in the neckline of his jersey, yanking him back in to land another punch to the side of his head—that would leave a nasty bruise in the morning. Stars sparkled in his vision as Snape got a lucky shot in and he doubled down, ignoring the thin line of pain that trickled down his chin.

“Break it up, boys, that’s enough!” The referee’s whistle blew as he and another pried Remus’ hands off Snape’s jersey; someone took him by the shoulders and pushed him away from the fight. Pots.

“Say it again!” Remus shouted at Snape as the refs and their teammates continued pulling them apart. “Say it again and I’ll knock your fucking teeth in!”

James’ hold on him faltered for a second as another person skated over and tried to join the melee. “Cap, no!”

“Move, Pots.”

“Loops won the fight, it’s done. Let’s just keep playing.” James shoved both their chests hard enough to send them back a few inches, but Remus’ blood boiled as he ground his mouthguard between his teeth. He glanced up at the clock—3:16 left in the third, Snakes up by two. Their win was almost guaranteed and Snape was still pulling this bullshit.

He skated quickly over to the bench and mumbled his thanks to Hestia as she pressed some gauze to his lip and ice to his cheek. “Lupin, you’re in for the rest of the game,” Coach Weasley said, tapping him on the arm with his playboard. “Anything broken?”

“No, Coach.”

“Then get your ass back out on the ice and score some points. We need some speed.”

He could feel the fury rolling off Sirius as they wove through the Snakes’ defense, shooting again and again to no avail. Frustration built up in every nerve—he was worried about the win, of course, but mostly he was pissed. Pissed at Snape, pissed at James for pushing him, and pissed at Sirius for butting into the fight.

Remus scored a final goal just as the buzzer sounded. Hissing filled the stadium, even though it was a home game. Snape smirked at him as he skated past and the only thing keeping him from dragging him right back in by his greasy hair was the possible suspension.

The shower was cold, because of course the fucking shower was cold. Remus shoved his stuff in his duffel and waited outside the locker room, silently fist bumping the guys as they left. God, he hated losing games. It was inevitable, but it always felt shitty.

“How’s the lip?” Sirius asked when he finally came out, bag slung over his shoulder.

“Fine. What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?”

“You butted into my fight. Nobody asked you to.”

Sirius’ eyebrows rose. “Re, he called you—”

“Yeah, I know what he called me,” Remus snapped, practically slamming the door to the parking lot closed. “I was there.”

The only reason you’re on this team is because you’re the captain’s whore, Snape had sneered. He bit the inside of his cheek as his anger flared at the memory. “I was just trying to help,” Sirius grumbled.

“Well, you didn’t. You proved his fucking point.”

“I didn’t prove shit!” Sirius scoffed as they got in the car. Immediately, Remus felt claustrophobic.

“I had it handled, Sirius!”

“You’re still bleeding!”

Remus ran his tongue along his lip—sure enough, the salty tang of blood filled his mouth. He swore under his breath and held his sleeve to his lip; his cheekbone throbbed and he knew it would be swollen in mere hours.

“Here.”

“I don’t need that.”

“You’d rather stain your sleeve than accept a tissue from me?”

“It’s a black sweatshirt, it’s fine.” Sirius muttered something. “Care to share with the class?”

Sirius sighed as he turned off the freeway. “I said it was your idea to keep these here in the first place. I don’t know why you’re being all pissy with me. We’ve lost games before.”

“I’m pissed because you don’t think I can handle myself in a fight.”

Sirius took his eyes off the road for a half second in shock. “Excuse me? Why do you think that?”

“I just told you!” Remus said, exasperated. “Snape was being a dick, so I punched him. I didn’t need your hero complex to swoop in and save the day.”

“Re, I didn’t even get a hand on him. Pots—”

“Oh, I’m pissed at him as well,” Remus snorted, staring out the passenger window at the blurry lights against the dark. “If someone calls me a whore, I’d rather get the message across that they can’t do it again.”

“Would you rather have gotten a penalty?”

“Yes.”

“That is unbelievably selfish.”

Remus laughed without humor. “Y’know, it’s really funny that you’ve never had this conversation with Logan, the king of the penalty box. Is it because he’s not a delicate flower like me?”

“Wh—” Sirius clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Remus. I have never seen you as a—a delicate flower. For your information, I have chewed Logan out on multiple occasions.”

Remus gritted his teeth and trained his gaze firmly out the window. He heard Sirius sigh next to him and it took every ounce of willpower to keep his composure. The next ten minutes were dead silent and deeply uncomfortable, which was a rarity with them; even after losses, they would talk through the errors or try to lighten the mood.

Both of them closed their doors a little harder than necessary when they got to the house and Hattie trotted over hesitantly when they came inside. “Hey, Hatters,” Remus murmured, crouching down to her level and holding a hand out. She licked his cheek and let him bury his face in her thick fur—Sirius scratched her ears as he walked past. “Did you have a good time while we were out? Huh, baby girl?” He looked up and saw the tail end of Sirius’ eye roll. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Sirius, it doesn’t work. I’m giving the dog a hug because I’m still pissed at you.”

“There is literally no good reason for you to be pissed at me!” Sirius finally said, tossing his keys into the bowl by the door. “Holy shit, Re, I don’t even think you’re mad at me!”

“Oh, yeah? Then who am I mad at, oh great and wise captain?” Remus practically spat, shouldering past him into the kitchen and wrenching a cabinet open. “Please enlighten me.”

“I wish I knew!”

Remus slammed the bread down on the counter and glared at him. “Then maybe you should shut the fuck up if you don’t have anything to support your claim.”

“Acting like this is a goddamn debate club isn’t helping. Your lip is bleeding again.”

“Fuck.” Remus ripped a paper towel off the roll and dampened it, holding it to his lip with a wince. Sirius opened the freezer and dug around for a moment with another paper towel. “I don’t remember you getting hit.”

“This is for you, you stubborn fucker,” Sirius said as he walked over and pressed it gently to the side of Remus’ face. “Better?”

“…a bit.”

The tension on Sirius’ face began to fade; he just looked concerned as he pulled the ice away and checked the bruise. “Your eye might swell.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you actually want to talk now, or should we yell a little more?”

Remus sighed and felt his anger abate. He was beyond exhausted, and still upset, but having Sirius nearby was like balm on a burn. “I don’t know.”

“I’m going to make some sandwiches. Hold this.” Sirius tapped the ice towel and moved to the abandoned loaf, grabbing some peanut butter and jelly as he went.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat something.”

“I’m fine.”

Sirius glanced over his shoulder and gave him a look. “I know you, Re. You’re not going to feel better unless you get some food, and neither will I.”

“I hate it when you’re reasonable.”

“No, you don’t.”

Remus’ lack of response was enough of an answer. The pain stretched to his forehead and he grimaced, prodding his lip cautiously. Sirius whistled for Hattie and spread the leftover peanut butter from the knife onto a clean spoon, holding it down for her to lick. A smile tugged the corner of Remus’ mouth. “Cute.”

“I can be cute on occasion.”

“You’re always cute.” There was a beat of quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. I’m sorry for yelling.”

“Not for interrupting the fight?”

“Nope.”

“That’s fair.” Something tickled at the back of Remus’ throat. “I fucking hate Snape.”

“Me, too.”

“Surprisingly enough, it feels pretty shitty to be called a whore. Who would’ve thought?”

Sirius turned and faced him, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His eyes were soft. “You know that’s not true, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Remus. What he said wasn’t true. You have nothing to prove to anyone on the team, least of all to me. You earned that spot on the roster fair and square, and Snape’s just freaked out because there’s another player who could grind him into the dust without breaking a sweat.” He stepped closer and leaned on the counter next to Remus, leaving a few inches between them. “I don’t think you’re a whore, if that means anything.”

Remus laughed softly. “Of all the people out there, I think you’re the only one who could reliably make that assumption.”

Sirius didn’t smile. “You’re my best friend and also my fiancé. The sex is a great bonus, but my favorite part of being with you is just being with you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Remus muttered, though the sharp edges began to smooth in his gut. He closed the distance between them and laid his head on Sirius’ shoulder. “Love you.”

“I love you, too. Can I take a look at your lip?”

“Sure.” Remus peeled the towel away and Sirius bent slightly, poking the area around it. “Ouch.”

“That’ll probably take a week or so to heal. He got you good.”

Remus pouted. “No kisses for a week?”

Sirius did laugh that time, bright and sunny enough that Remus nearly made his lip bleed again with the answering smile. “I said nothing about no kisses.” Warm lips trailed from his unbruised cheekbone to the edge of his mouth, leaving tiny tingles in their wake.

“I really am sorry about what I said. You were right, I wasn’t angry with you, and I had no right to go off like that.”

Sirius shrugged. “It happens.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Then let’s agree to talk first, bite heads off later, okay?” He held his pinky out and Remus linked it with his own, kissing it quickly.

“Deal. Are the sandwiches done? I’m starving.”

Wordlessly, Sirius handed him a sandwich and hopped up to sit on the counter, scooting over to make room for Remus to join him. They ate quietly, swinging their legs as the calmness of the kitchen crept back in once more.

[wr1ter-reader-dreamer]

Angel (Pt. 2)

Angel (Pt. 2)

Harry Styles x Reader

A/N: This one was inspired by Harry’s song Only Angel. It’s five parts in total. If you like it, be sure to give it a reblog and check out the other parts linked below. Thanks, and enjoy <3

Warnings: Ummmmmm anger? Alludes to sex. That’s about it. 

Masterlist

Part 1  -  Part 3  -  Part 4  -  Part 5

My first walk went by in a flash. I hardly realized I was out there before I was disappearing behind the curtain again. Still, I was filled with adrenaline and exuberance when I stepped off and realized that I was a true Angel now. Unable to stop myself from laughing, I allowed myself to be ushered to the rack of clothes holding my outfits for the night. I completely forgot that Harry was even there as I quickly changed and got ready to walk again. With every pass on the runway, I gained confidence. Before too long I was having fun and interacting with the performers, just like the Angels who had been doing this for years.

The show passed by all too fast, and suddenly it was time for the final segment, the Goddesses. As the assistant strapped on my wings, I realized that this time I would have to walk while Harry performed. My nerves returned in droves as I lined up with the other girls and Harry made his way onto the runway.

Harry’s song filtered through the air and Romee started her walk. I closed my eyes as I waited my turn, allowing the smooth voice of my brother’s best friend to fill me. Despite everything that had happened, it still relaxed me, and by the time it was my turn to walk, my nerves were all but gone again.

“Couldn’t take you home to mother in a skirt that short,” Harry sang as I stepped forward.

I smiled as I remembered a time when he had told me something similar. I was fifteen at the time and wearing a mini skirt for the first time. Harry, who was a few years older than me, had whistled and told me both our mothers would kill me if they saw me. With an eye roll I had told him to fuck off, which earned me another smart-mouthed comment. Five minutes later my mom saw me and yelled at me to go change. Harry teased me about it for weeks.

Seconds later and I was stepping onto the runway, a large smile on my face. Harry’s back was to me as I walked forward, but it wouldn’t be long before he caught site of me. A small part of me admitted that I was excited to see his face when he saw me walk the runway for the first time.

I was at the end of the runway, just finishing my pose and preparing to turn back, when Harry sang the line that made everything about this song click into place.

“Told it to her brother and she told it to me, that she’s gonna be an Angel just you wait and see,” Harry sang, causing me to almost stumble.

My eyes snapped to him, barely concealed horror on my face as I realized that this song was about me. He had written a song about me, of all people.

Then he smirked, holding my eyes and forcing my heart into overdrive as he sang, “When it turns out she’s a devil in between the sheets and there’s nothing she can do about it.”

It took every ounce of my willpower to not drop my smile or blush or stumble. I wished the ground would open up and swallow me because I knew that even though the world didn’t know he was singing about me, both our families did. Unfortunately though, I had to finish my walk with enthusiasm and a smile, all under Harry’s amused gaze.

As soon as i stepped backstage, my smile dropped and my hands began to shake. I made my way to get changed into my final outfit, but I could barely breathe. He had taken the simultaneously best and worst event of my life, written a song about it, and shared it with the world. I knew, even then, that that’s what he did, he wrote songs, but I never thought he’d let the world hear a song about that. To make matters worse, he chose to sing it at the fashion show I had been working toward my whole life. He knew how important this was to me and what seeing him, let alone hearing that song, would do to me. He had ruined this fashion show for me, and had nearly ruined my career, and I was pissed.

I embraced my anger, using it to help me pull myself back together. By the time I was stepping back onto the runway, it was like nothing had happened. Harry was singing the first verse of his song again, but I refused to be swept up in any memories. This time I walked stronger, still with a smile but no longer as playful as I had been before. And this time when I turned at the end of the runway and let my eyes meet his, all that there was for Harry to see was rage.

He didn’t falter as I had hoped, he was too good for that, but he sang the next line with a softer look in his eyes.

“My only angel, woo ooh-ooh,” he sang, his eyes pleading.

Smiling a smile I knew he would notice was fake, I blew him a kiss. harry placed his hand against his heart with a smile that was more genuine than mine and continued singing. Focusing my eyes forward again, I finished my walk. I knew that no one would catch the undertones of the exchange. To them it looked like childhood friends having fun with each other on stage, but to us it was very different. Harry knew me well enough to see the hostility of the action and how angry I was at having my hurtful past forced into the open like that; and I knew him well enough to see the apology in his eyes and the acknowledgement that our pass hurt him too. We were always really good at reading each other, I just didn’t care about his pain anymore. Not after what he did to me then, and especially not after what he just did to me now.

I didn’t have any time to rest before we were lining up for the final walk. Harry stepped off the runway and the first model stepped on. I could feel Harry’s eyes on me but refused to look at him, instead focusing on Martha’s wings in front of me. He would hear from me, but not till after my job was done.

The final walk was exciting, everyone on stage together, confetti falling from the ceiling. But like everything else, it was over all too fast, and we were popping champagne backstage to celebrate. Not in the mood, I made my way back to my rack to get changed into my street clothes. 

“Y/N!” Elsa called just as I was slipping my t-shirt on, “You’re coming to the after part right?”

I grinned, “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Yay!” she squealed, giving me a hug then running off to get changed.

I chuckled at her energy, allowing myself to revel in the moment. I had just walked in a Victoria’s Secret fashion Show, as an official Angel, and now I would go to an official after party. Chuckling again, I thought about Harry’s song and how perfect it really was for the show. I told him I would make it, and I finally did. But I was still going to kill him for releasing that song.

Pulling my phone out of my purse that was sitting next to the rack, I searched for Harry’s contact. It had changed a lot over the years, but he always sent me the new one, and for reasons I wasn’t going to admit, I always saved it. Quickly finding it, my thumb hovered over the “message” option, stopped by his contact picture.

It was the same picture it had always been, from long ago when things were happy. Harry was standing with his arms around me, holding me tight against his chest. He was pressing a sloppy kiss to my forehead, and I was making a face at the camera, but it was obvious that I enjoyed it. We were both happy, and our happiness was shining from us like a light. It was after we had realized how we felt, but before everything went wrong.

Sighing, I pushed back the emotions bubbling up at the sight of the picture and clicked on the “message” option. I typed out a quick message and hit send before I could second guess myself.

‘Are you coming to the after party’

Within seconds the little typing bubble popped up. I held my breathe as I waited a few seconds for his reply.

‘Do you want me to?’

I rolled my eyes and contemplated just ignoring him. Of course I didn’t want him to go, but I also wanted the chance to yell at him for that song. Deciding to let him sit and stew for a bit, I gathered up my things instead of replying.

Once I had my purse, shoes, and jacket on, I pulled my phone back out. I decided on, ‘We need to talk’ so I didn’t have to actually answer his question. He replied almost instantly.

‘Is the party really the best place to talk?’

‘Yes, there will be too many witnesses for me to kill you.’

I smiled to myself, pleased with my answer.

‘Lol. Really, angel? You, kill me?’

I huffed, annoyed at his use of the nickname he had given me years ago when I insisted I’d be an Angel one day. When I was younger it was cute, but after the first night we… it wasn’t cute anymore. 

‘Yes. Are you coming or not?’

I waited about a minute for a response, but when I didn’t get one, I decided to head to my hotel room. I still had to get ready for the party after all.

My phone dinged just as I got into a cab. I told the driver the name of the hotel we had been put up in, then took out my phone.

‘Yes, I’m coming. But this would probably be better in private. Come to my hotel room. 839 at the Park Hyatt.’

I laughed and rolled my eyes. Of course he was staying at the same hotel as us. But, he was right. There would be a lot of cameras and people at the party, and this wouldn’t exactly be a casual conversation. I would probably yell, and he would probably try to remind me of the happy times, and I didn’t really want anyone to hear that. Not only would it end up all over the Internet, but the girls and I weren’t exactly close. They don’t need to know about my past.

Huffing, I typed out a reply just as the cab pulled up to the hotel.

‘Fine. I’ll be there in 5.’

I paid the cabbie and thanked him for the ride, then slid out. Summoning my anger back to the forefront of my mind, I stormed through the lobby. Before I could get onto the elevator, however, I heard someone call my name from behind. 

Turning, I saw Alessandra making her way toward me with concern on her face.

“Hey Ali,” I sighed, “what’s up?”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re ok. You haven’t really talked to any of us since the show started,” she said softly.

“I’m fine, I promise,” I smiled softly, appreciating her concern, “I just have something I need to do before the party.”

“Ok,” she said cautiously, not convinced that I was actually fine, “But promise to call me if you need anything.”

My smile widened, knowing she really meant it, “Ok mom, I will.”

Alessandra laughed, pushing my shoulder and telling me bye as she walked away. I smiled after her. She really was like a mom, and I was honestly glad that I had her here with me. Especially since I didn’t exactly have my family anymore.

Sighing, I hit the button for the elevator. I tapped my foot as I waited, my nerves bubbling up full force. I was pissed, but I was also nervous. I hadn’t been alone with Harry in five years, and the last time I was, I made the mistake that cost me my entire family. He was so charming, and so good at getting me to forget why I was mad. But I couldn’t let myself forget, not this time.  This time was too important, and he had ruined my life too many times already.

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Taking a deep breathe, I steeled my nerves and stepped on. It was time to face the music and to finally face my past.

[littlemoondarlingarts]

Unfortunately it happened

A short story about two of my ocs that I've been writing for a while, please read the trigger warnings carefully before proceeding to the story.

Genre: magical realism with hints of psychological horror.

Word count: 4293 words.

Tw: Abuse, domestic abuse, past abuse, ptsd, hallucinations, claustrophobic scenes, blood, glass shards, mild sexual scene, possible sexual assault, disrespecting the boundaries of an autistic child, abandonment issues.

If there are any more possible trigger warnings that I didn't write, please let me know.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The thick warm blood irregularly dripped onto the rotting floor as Theodore tried to wrestle out the large glass shard that was lodged deep in his skull. He knew that pulling it out would only cause him to bleed more, but he had no other choice, his body just wouldn't heal around it. It's not like he could even go to a hospital. They ask questions there. Too many questions. He hissed in pain, fingers slipping over the smooth, wet surface, making the job ten times harder than what it already was.

Fear and pain overwhelmed his senses to the point where he couldn't even hear the squeaks of the wooden planks that normally annoyed him to no end. He only noticed that someone was in the small room with him when a pair of tiny pale feet stopped right infront of him.

"Stay back baby, there's glass on the floor." He let his hand fall down, the stubborn shard finally dislodged from his forehead, "Go back to your room, I'm okay." The obvious lie slipped through his blooded lips like smooth butter, if there was something Theodore excelled exceptionally at, it was lying with confidence so great that you would believe him over your very own eyes.

"Why don't you stop him?" Fran asked meekly, shoulders tense and lips pouty, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his favourite shirt violently enough to tear the delicate embroidery his dad had spend countless hours on.

Theodore lifted his head, his tired eyes taking in the heart wrenching sight of the boy he grew to call his son. Fran's whole body was trembling, his small fingers red and bruised from unconsciously fighting with the thread, his nose was swollen, the skin around his eyes was puffy. It was clear as day that the little boy had been crying for a while now.... probably since the fight started.

"Franny," Theo started softly, "I'm alright now. It's over, okay? Just go to your room, I'll follow you in a bit. Promise."

But the little vampire didn't budge, his cold feet planted firmly on the floor, lips forming a thin line accompanied by a deep frown barely hidden by loose white curls. Theodore sighed, he wanted so badly to hold his son's hands and carry him back to his room like he did every night before, but he was scared if he'd moved even an inch more he'd tear his shirt even further, revealing more bruises and cuts, subsequently traumatizing the boy more. So he stayed put.

"Why don't you stop him?" Fran repeated.

"Baby you know I-"

"WHY DON'T YOU STOP HIM?!"

The abrupt outburst took Theodore by surprise, making him flinch back on the bed. His wide blue eyes were chaotic as they searched the smaller one's face for any ounce of sympathy. It was silly, really, to be looking for such emotions in a clearly overwhelmed and traumatized kid, but Theo couldn't help himself, couldn't help the fear that was eating away at him, one angry word at a time.

"I know you can, Teddy. You used to stand up to daddy! And he was a VAMPIRE!" Fran said with a bit of pride in his voice, "You know what? I think we should go back to living with him! Maybe Elliot is waiting for us there! And the-"

"Elliot left. He isn't waiting for us anywhere, he doesn't want us anymore." Theodore shrunk back to himself when he noticed the amount of venom in his voice, "Besides Franny, you know I'll never let him hurt you. I'll never let anyone hurt you." He tried giving the most reassuring smile he could muster with the dull ache in his bruised cheeks.

Fran was silent for a long, dreadful second before hot tears raced down his face, "You can't even protect yourself..."

That sentence was like a punch to the gut. He never thought about the consequences that their constant fighting had on his son. He thought, no, he made himself believe that as long as Fran was in no immediate physical danger, everything was okay. It almost frightened him just how much he was willing to ignore and sweep under the rug just to let himself feel like a good father.

"I don't feel safe here... I'm scared." Fran sniffled, "I'm scared that one day I'll wake up and-and find you dead!" It was getting harder for the little vampire to speak as the tears kept flowing, "Or.. or  that you would... would just leave me here like Elliot did... or.. or yo-" violent sobs wrecked his body, forbidding him from finishing his sentence.

Theodore was lost. He promised Rouge and Elliot.. fuck those two, he promised himself that he would give Fran the best life possible, and yet here he is... shaking and wailing helplessly... He needed to do something, and he needed to do it fast. But what? What could he do?

What would dad have done? Dad wouldn't let himself be in this fucking situation. But if he was ... what would he have done?? Theodore's hands were now shaking uncontrollably as he tried to think of an answer. He would've pulled me close. Held me tight in his arms and told me that he'll keep me safe no matter what. That everything will be okay. Yes. Yes... that's what he would've done.

And so he reached forward, taking the now bloodied tiny hands in his and pulling Fran into his arms, holding the sobbing boy as tight as he could.

But the truth is. What his father would've done is vastly different that what Theodore should've done. Because in that moment of pure loss and desperation, he forgot one crucial detail... Fran can't handle being touched. Especially not being hugged.

Fran yanked himself backwards with powers unnatural to him, his body was sent flying until he hit the floor with a loud thud that almost made Theodore's heart stop, but to the boy, anything was better then being held like that.

"Franny... I'm so sorry... I forgo-" Before he could finish his sentence, the vampire was on his feet and running out the room. His loud footsteps quickly fading into nothingness before the deafening slam of a door shook the old house to it's core.

Theodore let himself fall back on the bed, sending small dust particles flying all over him and irritating his allergies. He quickly placed a hand over his nose to stop himself from inhaling any of that dust, he can't afford having his brains ooze out his wounds if he sneezed.

His eyes closed before he could decide otherwise. It's okay... it will be okay.. he'd probably gone to bed now, I should do that too. Tomorrow will be different, it will be better, I'll make some scrambled eggs and bacon.. wait no, Fran is a vegetarian you idiot, he doesn't eat that shit!... fuck. I can make uh... grilled cheese sandwiches.. yeah he'll surely like that....

But deep down Theodore knew that he isn't a kid that can go to bed when he is tired or in pain anymore, he is an adult now, with a kid of his own and all the responsibilities that come with it..

The obnoxious sound of the sports channel blaring from the living room and the rhythmic pouring of rain on the window along with phantom barking of a distant dog were like a hammer smashing into Theodore's head over and over again. Every little sound was cranked up to a hundred, even his own heartbeating was agonizing.

He forced his body to sit back up, becoming face to face with the long mirror nailed to the wall which seemed to be closing in on him. Theodore instinctively pushed himself backwards until his back hit the cold wall as the room began fold in on itself until the mirror was nearly touching his feet. He wrapped his arms around his body in an attempt to ground himself as his claustrophobia kicked in and his breathing quickened to a painful degree.

He forced his eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the walls that were now touching every inch of him. And his thoughts drifted back to the only place they could... Is it possible Franny is scared like this now? He feels unsafe.. he said that himself.. I can't just leave him alone in his room until the next sunset... that's not what dad would've done.. that's..that's what mom did... leave me alone and ignore me when I needed her most then pretend nothing happened the next day... that's what I was going to do...

The thought made his eyes shoot open only to be faced with her image in the mirror, blue eyes staring down at him with familiar disappointment. His blood boiled. He is becoming her! Repeating the cycle of neglectful abuse and torment until noone survives. In a moment of blind rage he balled his fist and swiftly moved to shatter the mirror and all the pain it was causing, but he found himself slammed to the floor, bloody knuckles causing a dent in it... it seems as tho the wall was still as far away as it always had been.

He stayed there for a moment, tears pouring down unapologetically as he tried to compose himself. He soon found enough willpower to stand up, but before he could take a step forward, sharp pain shot up straight to his head, forcing him to grab onto the nearest wall for balance.

Once the pain dulled down enough for him to be able to open his eyes, he looked down at the apparent source, only to see that his right ankle had doubled in size, blue and swollen as if there was a tennis ball underneath the skin. He rested the back of his head on the window, feeling the cold droplets of rain leaking through and falling on his cheeks.

He sighed, he would heal, he always did. But it would take time, and unlike Silas, this fucker never cared for him after beating him up. Theodore chuckled to himself, never in a million years did he think he would use Silas as a positive example for anything, goes to show just how low his life had sunk.

Nevertheless, he needs to persist, not for himself but for the little vampire that depended on him.

He thought about taking a quick shower to wash off all the blood, but something told him not to, to just check on Fran as soon as possible, and Theodore's gut feeling had never failed him before, so he always followed it, even if he knew that his son was safe in his bed, wrapped in a fluffy blanket that Theo had spent all his money on. He smiled, remembering how Franny's eyes twinkled when he first saw the bee pattern on it. Oh how he wishes he would see him this happy every second of every day.

Still smiling, he managed to take off the ripped shirt without aggravating his injuries too much. He held the black tee in his hands, staring at the bright neon pink "Angel♡" written on it in a metal font with the white signature of the singer along the neck.

He got this shirt 2 years back when he went to the live performance, Angel wasn't even the main performer back then, they were merely the opening act. Given how small they were, they didn't have a signing booth, it was actually pure luck that Theodore managed to meet them outside while they were waiting for a taxi.

And he thought that Rouge was tall! Angel was at least eight feet, to the point where he felt like a little cat after cranking his neck up so high just to be able to see their face, and what a truly terrifying face it was! Almost nightmarish with their black bug eyes and their long pointy teeth! But they were nice, maybe a bit blunt and lacking a social filter, but after being with Fran for a while, Theodore got used to unwanted comments... wait.. Fran... now THAT is what he was here to do!

He immediately put his favourite shirt down on a nearby wooden chair, promising to fix the rip the moment he can carry something as delicate as a needle without his hands shaking and dropping it, he threw on an oversized sweater that used to belong to Elliot, a pair of ghost patterned pyjama pants and made his way to the corridor.

Theodore was still grabbing onto the walls as he limbed his way to the door covered in stickers, it was slightly ajar which was strange considering that Fran had slammed it, but with how rusted the hinges are, anything is possible. He slowly pushed the door open, peering into the dark room, noticing how the moonlight softly illuminated the blanket-covered lump on the bed.

He should be happy? Maybe relieved? But instead, all he could feel is the bile rising to his throat, and he just couldn't tell why, perhaps he was just anxious about the impending talk. Yes. It must be that.

Theodore slowly stepped toward the small bed, feeling the mattress sink under his weight as he sat on it. "Hey Franny..." no answer, "It's me Teddy," again, nothing. He sighed, rubbing his hand over his aching neck, "listen I came here to apologise, and I... are you asleep??" He pulled down the blanket only to see that it was only a group of plushies in the vague shape of a kid.

Adrenaline shot through his body making him forget all about his pain and injuries as he quickly opened the closet, looked under the bed, tore the covers from the bed. Yet.... Fran is nowhere to be seen.

"FRAN!" Theodore yelled at the top of his lungs, "FRAAAANN!" He stood aimlessly in the little room filled with the missing boy's trinkets and drawings, his breath so fast he could hear it as he impatiently waited for an answer, "Baby where are you?!"

He could feel the little plushies staring at him, knowing where his baby is but not telling him, they don't want Fran to go back to being with such a horrible father. Theodore grabbed his son's favourite one, a large fluffy bee he had won for him during a passing carnival. He forcefully held it, his fingers smearing the blood all over the bright yellow as he shook it back and forth in the air.

"Where is he goddamn it! Where is he?" He screamed over and over again at the defenseless bee.

To anyone passing by, this seems like complete and utter madness, a father interrogating a stuffed animal instead of searching the whole house for his missing son? But to Theodore in the moment, it made sense. These plushies were the closest to the little vampire, they know his secrets and feelings more than Theo ever apparently did. So it must be obvious that they would be the ones knowing where his precious baby would be.

"I know you know! So just tell me!" His voice broke as a pained sob took over him, making him hold onto the door handle as his knees seemed to buckle under him. "I'll make it better... I swear.."

"He went out you crazy bitch!" The familiar gruff voice came from the living room, it was naturally loud enough to drown out everything else, even the news channel. Or perhaps that was just Theodore's mind only focusing on what matters to him, whichever case it was, he heard it loud and clear.

"What?" He whispered, soft and almost silent; like a deer caught in headlights, he couldn't move a single muscle in his body. He was painfully aware of this, too; the fact that he is just. Sitting. There. Like a useless piece of shit. His brain screamed at him to 'MOVE IT YOU FUCKER! MOVE!' But his body was almost paralyzed, unable to do anything, not even blink.

It may have taken mere seconds to get up and be in the living room, but it felt like years. Years of him being useless and worthless.

He ran down the short corridor.

He ran.

And ran.

And ran.

And with every step, the corridor seemed to stretch further and further, the end feeling more like a mirage as countless doors strung on the walls. Screams were erupting from behind them, defeaning and terrifying. A minute of thinking would've made him recognize the voice as Fran's, and this was one of the many instances where he regretted ever doing that. Theodore shut his eyes, covering his ears with his hands and just ran forward like a fish in the deep dark ocean where the sun can't reach.

"What do you mean?" His voice was erratic when he finally made it to the living room, gripping the worn down sofa that his "boyfriend" was sitting calmly on, as if a kid isn't out in the dark and rain all on his own.

"He's just breathing some air after all that shit you caused!" The man turned to look at him, "You think I didn't hear all that? Well news flash baby, I have ears."

His absolute nonchalance about the whole thing was irritating Theodore to no end, and Theodore wore his emotions on his sleeves. His eyes darkened dangerously as he almost felt himself growl, but he had to control himself as that would definitely get him another beer bottle to the head.

The man chuckled softly, putting his large hand on top of Theodore's much tinier one, "You're too worried about him, Francis is-"

"Fran." He corrected in a low, deep voice.

"Whatever, same thing. Point is, he is a little man now! If he wants to go out and calm his nerves after you wrecked them, then let him!" He smiled, trying to pull the shorter man towards him, but he didn't budge. "Listen baby, you need to give him some time to work out his emotions, stop getting in his business you little helicopter!"

The man pulled again, this time successfully getting the half dissociated Theodore around the sofa and onto his lap. When he said it like that.... it almost made sense. Fran isn't eight and he really was hurt by all that Theo had done tonight and most nights before that, he does need some time to process all that. Or maybe that was just his way of feeling less guilty, believing that this is just a natural reaction rather than face the fact that his son's terrible immune system won't handle the cold and rain.

"That's right baby," the man held Theodore close, and like a moth to flame he leaned into it, craving any sort of affection and sympathy, "calm down now," his rough hands gently petted Theo's curls which were now matted with a mixture of blood, bear and sweat, "it's all okay," He moved his hand down, moving over Theodore's back in slow and rhythmic circles. "Daddy's here," testing his luck, the man moved his hand further down and gripped Theodore's buttocks firmly.

This sent reality crushing down on the poor man, this isn't okay. Nothing about a frail and sickly eleven year old kid being alone outside in the raining night in a place surrounded with dangerous wildlife is okay. No matter how hard he wants to shake the guilt off. How hard he wants to lean into this rare moment of gentleness. He can't. Not when his son is all alone. Not in a million years.

Theodore placed his hands on his boyfriend's large chest and pushed himself off his lap, getting to his feet as quickly as he can without losing his balance and running to the door as if he is a prisoner that just found the keys.

"Well fuck you too slut! I never wanted your trashy ass anyway! Go get eaten by wolves! You and your annoying ass kid!"

But Theodore had already made it outside and started the long process of running around aimlessly and yelling Fran's name at the top of his lungs. After thoroughly running through the front yard, he took a deep freezing breath and made his way into the surrounding woods where the fading moonlight didn't reach.

He quickly lit up the lighter, the rain putting out the flame before he could do anything, so he bent down, wrapping his body around it like a deer would to her fawn, and tried lighting it up again. The small flame persisted long enough for it to turn blue and be transferred onto Theodore's palm.

He extended the demonic flame infront of his face, making his eyes twinkle with otherworldly lights, he was hoping that animals would find it's strange color intimidating rather than inviting, and that Fran would recognize it as his and find him. Clearly too much faith in a silly little flame, even if it is magical in nature.

Theodore's feet got sliced and bruised by the rocks and thorns on the ground, but nevertheless he persisted, his dark fingers gripping the ancient trunks for dear life, not caring about the skin being scratched and peeled off if them.

He opened his mouth to yell for his boy, "Fraaan.." he coughed, hoping that his voice would come back, "Fra.... fuck me." His voice was gone, almost completely after the endless screaming and yelling he did this night, both while searching for Fran and the big fuckin fight that had happened before.

With no voice to speak of, Theodore felt... weak. He couldn't yell for Fran and the hope that the boy would see the flame on his own and follow it is... statistically very low. He was defeated. He failed himself, his father, Fran... everyone that can be failed.

He made his way out of the forest, he had already searched the surrounding area on foot. He had the small tiny twinkle of hope that Fran had made his way back home alone, that he really was just breathing some air. That he is now safe and cuddled underneath the blanket. Safe. And sound.

Theodore stood infront of the closed door. Body shaking from the cold rain and pain, he stood there for a while, just letting the tears silently fall down, not daring to go inside and face the truth.

"Teddy?" A small familiar voice echoed in his head, making him smile a little. He had been first given that nickname by his mom, but now that Franny used to call him that, it no longer feels... humiliating. It feels warm and comfortable, it feels like a purpose and having someone that depends on you and trusts you.

"Teddy!" The small voice came again, this time angrier, like a tiny kitten's hiss.

Is it possible that this.. isn't in Theodore's head? That Fran was actually yelling for him?

He tore his eyes away from the door and looked around, and sure enough, he easily spotted the head of white fluffy hair struggling to get out of under his boyfriend's car.

Theodore rushed to help his son get out without being scratched or injured, he held the boy's tiny hands and pulled slowly, stopping to fluff down his shirt to make the sliding easier. Once his bottom was out, his short legs were an easy task.

"Thank gawd! I thought I was gonna be stuck under there forever! Or that that bastard was gonna drive tomorrow and I'll become tomato paste!" The little boy was flailing his arms around as he spoke, finally settling for a dramatic break as while saying "tomato paste!"

He tried keeping himself composed, he really did, slowly stroked his son's curls, but quickly enough Theodore crumbled. Exhaustion, pain and all that worry that he was barely holding, finally broke him. He hid his face behind his hands as he cried uncontrollably. His drenched shoulders shaking with each painful sob.

"Teddy?" Fran asked worriedly, his soft voice kept quiet as if Theodore was a rabbit that he didn't want to scare off. "Why are you crying?"

It might seem like a stupid question given the circumstances, and if it was anyone else, Theodore would've given them the deathglare. But he knew that Franny genuinely couldn't understand the consequences of actions, wether they were his own or others. So he simply sniffled and smiled as bright as he could, resuming to fluff up his baby's hair.

Fran's face scrunched up as if he had tasted a lemon, his soft features all grouping in the middle of his face. But he didn't mind this, not really, he just found it fun to do this face because he doesn't get to often. And Theodore knows this, they spoke about this before... before this..  him.

"I wanna sleeeeeeeeeeep." Fran whined while pouting, earning him an honest chuckle from his dad.

Theodore opened his arms as his son jumped up, landing perfectly on his waiting shoulder. Fran swung his feet, accidentally hitting his father's chest a few times, not too many times tho as he was doing his absolute best to avoid it. But that swinging was making it harder for Theo to safely stand up, but he made do and made his way back indoors carrying his son like a sack of potatoes, which is the only way Franny likes to be held.

Deep in his mind, Theodore knew that this won't be the end of this abusive relationship, he was too dependent, too afraid of being abandoned and left alone to leave. But the cracks were only becoming more and more prominent, and hell was knocking on their door.

[justmeandmysickies]

Sevan’s turn

This is kind of a part two to this fic. It’s quite long cause I got carried away so sorry about that.

warning: description of vomit

Well, this sucked. It was safe to say that Sevan was miserable.

Yet his day had actually started out quite nicely. He’d been woken up by the smell of fresh coffee and eggs and upon entering the kitchen Sevan was greeted by his handsome boyfriend pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. Naoko had just returned from a nightshift at the hospital and swiftly decided to surprise his boyfriend with a nice breakfast before getting some sleep himself.

So Sevan enjoyed the delicious meal the taller man had prepared for him before getting ready for work. His day was mostly uneventful, his students going easy on him since the young man was still learning and obviously trying his best.

Unfortunately, lunch was when things started going south. Stepping into the school’s cafeteria, the strong smell of food had Sevan’s stomach churn uncomfortably. Not thinking much of it at first, he got himself a cheese sandwich and sat down in his usual spot next to his friend and colleague Sungjin. A few bites in, however, the uncomfortable churning turned into full blown nausea blooming in the pit of his stomach, causing Sevan to abandon his lunch.

The nausea did not subside over the course of his lunch break but neither did it increase in intensity, so Sevan considered that a win. Unfortunately for him that ‘win’ did not last long.

Now that he was sitting in his last class for the day, Sevan was feeling positively miserable. His stomach was cramping painfully, and every wave of pain threatened to send the delicious breakfast he had up his throat. It took him every ounce of willpower in his body to not double over and whimper in pain right then and there, but he had to keep up his appearance in front of his students, so Sevan powered through.

The end of class approached painfully slow but finally the bell rang, and the students hastily left the classroom while Sevan let himself sink into his chair.

He was confused as to why he was suddenly feeling so awful but if the memory of his boyfriend slumped over their toilet a few days ago was any indication, he’d probably caught whatever Nao had been dealing with at the time. And that worried him a lot – if Naoko was hit hard, Sevan with his compromised immune system had to prepare for the worst. So he decided that it’d be best to get home as quickly as possible.

So there he was, at the front door to their shared apartment, fumbling with the key. His plan? Complain to Naoko for getting him sick (yes, he was aware that it was technically his own fault for not leaving Nao alone but shhh) and then getting all the kisses and cuddles he so desperately needed.

Which is, of course, exactly what he didn’t get. The apartment seemed suspiciously empty, as Nao would usually be sitting in the living room curled up with a book by the time Sevan got home. The sofa however was unoccupied. A quick glance at his phone confirmed what Sevan had been thinking.

From Baby: Getting some groceries. Be back in an hour or so. Love you.

Great. Of course his boyfriend was not home to comfort him. So Sevan did the only helpful thing he could think of – he took some Pepto Bismol, the thick liquid settling heavily in his stomach, and went to lie down in their queen-sized bed, arms wrapped protectively around his tormented middle.

He hadn’t even noticed he was dozing off until a hand on his shoulder startled him awake.

“I’m sorry angel, I didn’t mean to scare you. Hard day at work?”

Upon seeing his boyfriend’s gentle eyes, warmth instantly spread through Sevan’s body.

“Work was fine but I’m pretty sure I caught your bug. I feel awful.”, Sevan sighed, still rubbing his eyes sleepily.

Naoko’s face darkened at the statement. They both knew what such a stomach bug would mean for Sevan. It would take him at least twice as long to recover as it would take other people. And a visit to the hospital was often unavoidable. Nao did not like the idea of that at all.

“Have you taken any medication yet? And what about your temperature, how high is it?”, at that the taller man put a hand on Sevan’s forehead.

“Damn it, you feel warm. We need to bring your temperature down before it gets bad. I’ll have to call Marissa; I’m not going in today. There is no way I’ll go to work and leave you alone.”

There it was. Naoko’s mother-hen-mode. It happened every time Sevan was sick, without fail. Sometimes it was quite amusing to Sevan. Seeing his usually so calm and level-headed boyfriend freak out like that. And normally the sick man would tell him to quit worrying so much – he’d be fine. But right now Sevan felt far from fine.

The loving warmth he had felt upon seeing his boyfriend had turned into an uncomfortable heat spreading through his entire body. His stomach felt like it was on fire, causing Sevan to desperately clutch at the upset organ. He sat up and leaned forward, his nose almost touching his thighs, hoping the pressure would lessen the pain. Unfortunately, the motion of sitting up proved counterproductive. Dizziness hit Sevan like a brick making his vision swim.

Sevan whimpered as a wave of his breakfast suddenly surged up his throat. He tried to swallow it back down, but it was a losing battle. Pink-tinged vomit noisily splattered onto the wooden bedroom floor. A low groan escaped Sevan’s mouth before a second wave of half-digested food joined the puddle on the floor.

Naoko, who had left to find some supplies so he could properly care for Sevan, had no idea of his boyfriend’s unfortunate predicament, since Sevan was a rather silent puker. However, the sob coming from the bedroom was anything but silent.

Alarmed, Naoko jogged down the hall to find his boyfriend. The smell reached him even before he saw the state his poor boyfriend was in. And the sight wasn’t a pretty one either – Sevan’s shirt was drenched in sweat and tears were streaming down his face. If they were caused by pain or exertion Nao couldn’t say. At the poor boy’s feet sat a considerably large puddle of vomit.

Nao winced in sympathy. He put a hand on the small of his boyfriend’s back rubbing gentle circles, the other hand coming up to cup Sevan’s forehead, keeping him from falling forward.

Sevan was panting hard, and Nao bit his lip nervously. His boyfriends condition got worse alarmingly fast. Luckily, Sevan seemed to be done for the time being and Naoko crouched down next to him, carefully avoiding stepping into the puddle, and put a comforting hand on Sevan’s knee.

“Okay baby, how about we get you cleaned up and then we’ll take a trip to the ER, hm?”

“Noo”, Sevan whined, “No hospital. Not yet. I feel better, I promise.”

Naoko sighed. It was always like this. No matter how bad Sevan felt, he’d always fight going to the ER.

“Fine, no hospital for now. But if you get any worse, I will not hesitate to drag your ass to the emergency room, so help me god.”

Sevan chuckled at that – his boyfriend could be so dramatic at times. Then he remembered that he just threw up so much on their bedroom floor, it would put ‘The Exorcist’ to shame, and figured that maybe, just maybe, they could both be a little dramatic every now and then.

And with that he let Nao hoist him up so he could take a shower. To say Sevan was exhausted would be a massive understatement. So it took them quite a while to properly clean up with Sevan basically falling asleep on his feet.

When Nao finally put his boyfriend to bed about thirty minutes later, medicated and luckily somewhat hydrated, Sevan was out in a matter of minutes.

Naoko knew that they’d probably end up in the hospital anyway but as of right now his boyfriend actually looked somehow peaceful and that was all he needed for now.