#and sleeping behind me on the bed and only when I've put out the CORRECT blanket

[thedustyleaves]

My beautiful kitty, little Killah, passed away today. She would've turned 17 in September. A beautiful and stubborn little lady, I loved with my entire heart.

We buried her in the garden. Just before we placed her there, a group of 7-8 pigeons stood in a circle, with a white dove in the middle. We think it was her way of saying thank you and a final goodbye. Sleep well, lille mis.

[pedroscurls]

in every lifetime

summary: you lost logan in this universe. logan lost you in his. what happens when you both see each other again, but realize that you're both from different worlds? pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), angst (mentions of death, loss from both reader and logan), no use of y/n. word count: 2.1k a/n: this is my first logan fic, so if anything is ooc, i'm sorry in advanced! just like everyone else, i've been obsessed with hugh jackman / logan after watching deadpool & wolverine (if it isn't obvious lol)... i had the song 'unchained melody' in mind when writing this story because whenever i hear it, i think of logan for some reason lol (tried to embed it but it didn't work, but i'd highly recommend listening to the song while reading this!) anyway, hope you enjoy! next part.

“I’ll be back.”

“But what if–”

“I always come back, bub.” Logan’s looking down at you, hand cupping your cheek. In moments like this, you can see the age in his features. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes. The gray in his hair and beard. 

“Logan…” Tears sting your eyes. You know he has to leave, has to go help Charles, but there’s a feeling deep in your gut that knows that if he goes, he isn't coming back. 

“Wait for me, then.” He says, dipping down to gently peck your lips. “Okay? Wait for me.” 

“Logan,” you repeat. “What do I do if I– if I lose you?” 

There’s a feeling in the pit of Logan’s stomach, a sense of dread and fear that he’s only ever felt when you were concerned. This feels a lot like a goodbye… That maybe if he does go, he won’t come back. And the thought alone scares him. He never used to have to think about the possibility of dying, his regenerative powers always healing him in record time, but he knows that he doesn’t heal as quickly as before. He feels more pain now than he ever had. And he knows he’s sick, knows that the adamantium that once gave him strength is now slowly making him weaker.

But now, the thought of dying… It fucking scared him. It scared him to think that he’d leave you here, all alone, grieving him. He had never thought he’d be deserving of someone like you, to be loved and taken care of so gently, so sweetly, so patiently. Even with all of the baggage he carried, you never pushed. He knew, right off the bat, that you deserved someone so much better than him, but you stayed. 

Through it all, you stayed. 

And Logan would forever be grateful. After everything he’s been through, the things he’s seen, the things he had to do, the people he’s lost, you gave him a life that was finally worth living. 

“Then, you move on, darlin’.” Logan finally answers. 

“And if I can’t?” 

���You’ll have to.” 

“I don’t… I don’t want you to go, but I know that you have to. Charles needs you and–”

“I love you with every fiber of my being, baby,” Logan interjects. “And I will love you in every lifetime.” 

And that was almost a year ago. The moment he stopped calling, you knew that was it. That he either got into some real trouble or… Or that he was no longer here. It wasn’t until a young girl named Laura showed up on your doorstep, holding his dog tags that your assumptions were correct. 

You had fallen to your knees, a sob escaping your lips, as you felt your world come crashing down. Logan’s death had left a gaping hole in your heart, in your life, and everywhere you looked and everywhere you went, all you could see was him. 

You learned from Laura that during his last moments, he had told her to come and find you, that you would take care of her and give her a good life. Whenever you were around her, you tried to be strong, tried to put on a brave front, but behind closed doors, you were a complete mess. There were days where you didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to eat; you just wanted the pain to stop. Every night, whenever you closed your eyes, you forced yourself to sleep because that was the only place where you could be with him. 

In your dreams, he was alive. 

In your dreams, he had made it back home.

In your dreams, he was here with you, helping raise Laura. 

And every time you woke up, you were welcomed with the sudden reality that he wasn’t alive. He wasn’t coming back home. He wasn’t ever going to be here with you to help raise Laura. 

Logan was dead and now, you had to try and learn how to move on. 

For yourself.

For Laura.

For Logan. 

—

He didn’t know what he was doing here, why he agreed to stay with Wade because it was driving him crazy. This wasn’t even his timeline; he wasn’t even meant to be here. Despite saving Wade’s timeline, Logan still found it hard to fit in. He tried to keep Wade and every single one of his friends at an arm's distance because he knows what happens to people he cares about. 

But the more time he spent around them, the more he felt at ease. Logan would be lying if he said he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when Laura mentioned your name at one of Wade’s family dinners, his heart skipped a beat. When he realized he would be able to stay in this timeline, you were all he could think about. 

Logan wondered if you existed in this world and what he would do if you did. So, when Laura casually said your name, his head turned around so quickly that he felt dizzy. There were so many things he regretted in his own timeline, but you were his biggest regret. 

Just like he failed the other X-men, Logan had failed you too. You had been there with the other X-men, trying to warn them of a planned attack and ended up getting caught in the crossfire. You had called out for him, just like Scott, like Charles, like Storm. 

He managed to get to you before you had taken your last breath, holding you in his arms. Logan begged and begged for you to fight, that he’d do things right from now on as long as you just held on, but you were losing so much blood and Logan couldn’t stop it. 

Even then, when you had every right to be angry with him, you gazed up at him with an understanding look on your face. You had always been so patient and kind, so sweet and considerate. You had made him so happy and it scared him, which ultimately ended in pushing you away because he didn’t think he was deserving of it. Of you. 

“I love you, Logan,” you had said, wincing at the pain. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–” Logan felt a sob catch in his throat, tears stinging his eyes as he looked down at you. “Please, baby, please please please, don’t–”

“I–” you coughed, eyes fluttering as you felt the pain overcome your entire body. “I will love you in every lifetime, Logan.” And then, you took your last breath, eyes falling shut and body falling limp in his arms. 

Since then, Logan drank himself day after day, from dawn to dusk. The alcohol never truly helped, his regenerative powers sobering him so fast, but with every swig of liquor, it burned. And he spent years bringing pain unto others, including himself. 

That was, until he met Wade who had given him a chance, a reason to fight for something… To not turn his back on someone who relied on him. A chance for redemption, to finally make things right. 

“So, will you meet her?” Laura asks, holding Dogpool in her arms as she gazes up at Logan. “She– She used to be with this universe’s Logan and…”

“No chance, kid.” Logan interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not him.” 

“Did you have someone like her in yours?” she asks. “She’s always put me first, always made sure I was taken care of even when she didn’t have to, when she was grieving. And I think–” Laura sighs. “I think if she knows that some version of you is alive, it would make her real happy.”

“I’m not him,” Logan growls, feeling his irritation spike. “‘Sides, she’s better off without me.” He stands from the table and walks out into Wade’s balcony to get some fresh air, shutting the door behind him as he leans against the railing.

“But she’s coming tonight,” Laura finally says, long after Logan’s walked away.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Logan remains outside. He can hear the muffled laughter coming from inside and it only angered him because it was just another confirmation that he didn’t belong here. He’s already on his fourth bottle of beer when he hears a familiar voice, smells a recognizable scent. He turns slightly and catches you stepping into Wade’s apartment, an arm slinging over Laura’s shoulders so casually, so maternally. 

He feels his heart rate pick up. Your smile still lights up a room and he can’t help but his lips turning upwards at the sight. With his enhanced hearing, Logan can hear your voice and he shuts his eyes for a moment, tuning all of his attention on you until you’re the only one he hears. 

Then, he hears your laugh and he lets out a sigh. He never thought he’d be able to hear that again, but his eyes shoot open when he hears you say his name. There’s a shocked tone in your voice, laced with sadness and hope. It all but crushes him because he knows that you’re probably expecting someone else, expecting this world’s Logan and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. Not again. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it if he were to hurt you again. 

But when he looks at you, his breath catches in his throat when your eyes meet his. Logan notices the surprise look on your face, but before he could try and escape, you’re already walking towards him. When you open the door and step out with him, your scent fills his senses and it makes him dizzy, like he can’t fully concentrate. 

“You…” he hears you say, voice unsteady. “You’re not… I’m–” you sigh and shake your head. 

“I know who you are,” Logan finally says, his own voice shaky. 

Your hands reach out for him, but stopping halfway when you realize this isn’t your Logan. This is not the same man who died all those years ago. This is some version of him – much younger, less wrinkles and gray hairs in his hair and beard, but he still has that same look on his face. The scowl. 

“From Laura?” you ask hesitantly. 

“From my universe,” Logan answers. 

“There– There’s a version of me in your universe?” 

“There was.”

“And what happened to me?” 

Logan’s jaw tightens. “The same thing that happened to your Logan in this universe.”

“Oh.” Your face drops, eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

Logan wants to run far from here, far from you because he feels himself yearning for more. He almost forgot how it felt like to be near you, to be inches away that he can just reach out and pull you into his arms. Your eyes captivate him, the kindness it expresses makes him feel like he matters. You had always made him feel that way that even through all of his anger, through all of the walls he put up, you showed him that he was deserving of something good. Even if he didn’t believe it himself. 

And you… You were the best thing to ever happen to him.

“Don’t know why you’re apologizin’,” Logan mutters. 

There’s an uncomfortable silence that engulfs the both of you. He can see the tears threatening to spill over, can see the way your lower lip is beginning to tremble and he has this sudden urge to console you, to wipe away the tears that have now fallen down your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, bringing your hands up to wipe away the tears that seem to be trickling down your face nonstop. “I just– Losing my Logan just crushed me and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered.” 

My Logan. 

Logan can practically feel his heart beating in his chest. This isn’t a conversation that he thought he would be having and certainly not with someone he loved and died because of him. 

“That’s okay,” Logan responds quietly, his tone softening. “I don’t think it’s easy to recover from losing someone you love.”

“Did you– Did you love me in your universe?” 

Logan nods slowly, tightening his jaw as he gazes down at you. “With every fiber of my being.” 

Your eyes widen and stare up at him. This might be a different Logan, but hearing those words again just brings you back to the moment you last saw your Logan before he left to go take care of Charles. 

“Did you love me in yours?” Logan asks hesitantly.

You nod instantly, tears trickling down your cheek as you stare up at him. “I’d love you in every lifetime.” 

Logan feels his own set of tears pool at the corners of his eyes and he moves a hand to rest on the railing, fingers lightly brushing against yours as he stares into your eyes. 

“I’m not him,” he whispers. 

“I know,” you say quietly. “And I’m not her.” 

[sukunasweetheart]

Thinking of breakup angst with sukuna...

Thinking of the build up towards it, the way you have been fighting over the littlest things for months now

It leads you to think about how self centered he can be, how you always feel like you loved him more than he loved you and how crushing it felt to have that realisation fall upon you every time

He can be so career focused sometimes, with the long business trips, work parties, etc. always working vehemently to get higher, threatening to leave you behind

And one particular night, the argument gets so heated that you dont get a wink of sleep afterwards, only staring blankly at nothing as you try to calm the chaos in your head. Sukuna heads out without a word the next morning, and you make the final decision in your head, alone, by yourself.

By the time sukuna comes back home with the intent of reconciliation, he finds that youre packing the remainder of your belongings into a suitcase in the bedroom, ready to move out of his home.

"what the fuck is all this?" he asks, his tone coming out harsher than he means it to be.

"what do you think? i'm breaking up with you. i'm moving out," you can barely stop your voice from wavering. you've cried too much this week.

"oh, come on. you know you don't mean that," he reaches out to grab your arm, but you withdraw away from his hand so fiercely that it even surprises him.

"don't you talk to me like that," you speak firmly, "like i'm being dramatic. why won't you ever treat me seriously? i am leaving, sukuna."

you continue your work, neatly folding up some of your shirts. you're already almost finished. he looks around, and the house looks half empty.

oh. you really mean it. you're really trying to leave.

"no, you're not. you're not leaving. not after everything we've been through together," he tells you defensively, grabbing your wrist, stopping you from folding your last shirt, trying to get you to look at him again.

"like what? constantly yelling at each other until our throats are sore? i'm really sick of it. and i'm sure you are, too."

"don't put words in my mouth. i may have gotten sick of our fighting, but i've never gotten sick of you," sukuna hisses, refusing to let you continue packing your things. you feel yourself getting swayed by his words.

"well, i am. i've gotten sick of you," you say quietly through gritted teeth.

"oh yeah? say it to me properly then. look at me dead in the eyes," he demands, voice getting lower.

"you heard me. i don't need to say it again." you pull away from his grip and try to get this last shirt folded. he grabs you again, by the hand this time, and the piece of clothing unravels once more.

"no, i didn't hear shit. convince me that you really want to leave me - and i'll let you go."

in a fit of anger, you turn to face him completely, but your resolve crumbles away when you see his expression. not the one you'd assigned to him in your own mind, but his true features, under the bright bedroom lights.

he looks serious. he looks concerned. he's asking you to tell him it's not true. tell him that you want to stay.

"...let me go. i'm leaving..." you say, voice finally breaking. like a broken faucet, your eyes begin leaking tears relentlessly and your throat closes up in that painful way that you hate, but nothing compares to the pain in your heart at the thought of really breaking up with this man here and now.

he lets you go...

and calmly takes your things out of the suitcase to put them back. you didn't miss the relief in his eyes that showed up for that split second.

"bring it back! i hate you," you attempt to raise your voice, but really, it's only just your ego speaking.

"you can't even say that you hate me in the correct tone. we're not breaking up," he mutters, hanging up your coats and putting them into the closet.

having been defeated, your legs give way and you sit down on the side of the bed, sobbing.

through the blur of your tears, you watch as he meticulously goes through your suitcase, putting everything where they belong. and you sob harder. he knows too much. he arranges your creams, perfumes and accessories in the perfect order on the dresser. he spends a good fifteen minutes, putting all of your belongings back where they should be.

and by the time he gets back to you, he's like a different man. the mattress dips from his weight as he sits next to you, bringing a box of tissues with him to wipe your tears away.

"we can talk tomorrow since we're both tired today," sukuna tells you as he dabs your eyes with the tissue, "i'll take the day off." you just sit still without responding. now that he mentioned it, the fatigue seems to fall upon you suddenly, like a brick. he coaxes you under the sheets.

soon, you find yourself in bed, in his arms. it's been a while since the two of you had cuddled so intimately. you feel oddly shy, the same way you did all those years ago when you first started dating him. there's a special kind of warmth that sukuna's body emits - and you're surrounded by it under these blankets.

"i'll try to do better... so don't go anywhere," he speaks with a softer tone.

because, it's true, he can't imagine living a life without you.

those are the last words you hear before you drift off to sleep.

the next morning, he's still in bed with you, and you're pleased to see he kept his word about taking the day off. checking the mirror, you're horrified and embarrassed about your swollen eyes from all the crying last night.

sukuna takes a look at you and chuckles without ill intent. but in your flustered state, you slap his arm until he's saying "my bad, my bad" in between laughs.

there's still some awkward tension between you and him, but going through breakfast together seems to melt some of that away, until you're ready to bring up yesterday's event.

it goes better than you'd expected, and after the discussion, the only thing that's left is to wait and see whether things will change for the better or not. whether his promises are empty or not.

"i didn't realise that you were so lonely. 'm sorry," he apologises as he plays with your hand, "i may work a lot, but you're always on my mind, doll."

it's like a huge weight off your shoulders.

and he begins to be more like his playful self again, after the talk.

"i'll need you to tell me that you love me today. since you told me you hated me yesterday," sukuna says with a smirk, hugging you from behind.

"well, you need to earn it," you shoot back, rolling your eyes.

"alright. will you say it back if i say it first?"

"sure."

"i love you."

"..."

"now that's not fair, is it?" he tickles you without mercy.

you burst out in laughter, thrashing around uncontrollably, trying to push him away.

"okay, okay! i love you!" you tell him in between breaths.

seemingly satisfied, he lets you go and pushes his face into the crook of your neck. he'll never let you go.

the following day after work, sukuna comes home earlier than usual, and he doesn't wear a grumpy expression in front of you. he greets you with a hug and kiss. it's a small gesture, but it makes you happy.

and slowly, the relationship begins to rekindle itself.

[aboutchriss]

Bed bugs

Pairing: Idol! Chan x fem! reader

Genre: smut, fluff, maybe crack idk

Warnings: slight choking (just a hand on the neck, nothing more) (f! receiving), dry humping, oral sex (m! receiving), make-out session, cuddles, mention of Chan's room.

Author notes: when I first started writing "Physiotherapy and Coconut Oil" back at the beginning of October, I was convinced to write it as fluff, mainly because I can't write smut; after a couple of weeks, I left it in my drafts, and leave it there till the first two weeks of December, I was under heavy medication bc I had a painful surgery on my foot, and the only thing that helped to go through insomnia caused by the pain was writing that story, I wrote and wrote day and night, and it helped so so much, that's why I was shocked when @ardef38 asked for a pt 2, so here you go love, I hope you like it.

(Kinda proof read, it’s 1:40 am as I’m ’reading’ this so, be patient I’ll correct any mistakes later)

Fun fact: I do really ride motorcycles since I was 17 (and yes I may be reckless).

Word count: +4k (I got carried away I’m sorry)

Thank you so much, I really, really appreciate all the feedback, I love you all.🩷

Sincerely Glo

As always, requests are open!

-✉️

I'm so insecure about my English. As I said, it's not my first language, and I'm always scared to make mistakes or stuff like that. So, if you find mistakes, please let me know. I'll be thankful, and my English will improve!

-✉️

Part one is here

"Stop moving. I'm trying to sleep."

he mumbles on your back

"I can't, I'm sorry."

You mumble

"Why? What is happening, baby?"

he asks, hugging you tighter

"Uhm, I'm sorry my insomnia is bothering me, I-i don't know why."

"What can I do for you? A cup of tea? cuddles?"

he asks

"I don't know either, honestly, usually I stay in bed and stare at the ceiling."

"It's a common thing?"

he whispers, almost like he doesn't want to be heard by someone

"What? That I can't sleep? Oh yeah, definitely.”

you say, turning yourself towards him

"Mh"

"You should be tired, you know that? after a full day of work and after what we did."

he says

"I know, Channie, but my brain can't shut down."

"I have an idea."

he says, hugging you tighter, your head on his chest with his hand between your hair

"What?"

you ask, looking at him

"Shhhh, just close your eyes and relax, okay?"

"Mh, okay. I doubt that whatever you're about to do, you'll make me fall asleep."

"Shshhh"

close your eyes

go to sleep

know my love is all around

dream in peace

when you wake

you will know I'm still with you

He repeats the verse over and over until you don't hear him anymore.

You know that you fall asleep because of his voice and the lullaby that he was singing, and the way he was stroking your hair gently, but mostly because he's warm; one time, someone said that he's like the feeling of walking in a warm room after spending the whole day out in the cold. It's true he really is like that domestic feeling.

"Good morning, ray of sunshine. How did you sleep?"

he asks you when you walk into your kitchen

"Oh, good morning. I thought you were already gone and good. I don't know which magic you've put in your cuddles and voice, but I haven’t slept like this in months."

you say

"Gone? No, I had to make you breakfast since I've slept over and used your bathroom to shower. I also used your body wash. Now I know why you smell so good."

he says while working on something at the stove

"That's why the bottle is half empty."

you giggle, hugging him from behind

"I'm sorry. I'll rebuy it for you."

he says

"Ya, it's okay, you don't have to. you smell like me now,"

"Yep, and trust me, I love it."

he says

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm"

"Aaah, you're warm, Channie it's freezing today even if it's mid-summer."

you say, hugging him from behind

"It has rained all night, we didn't notice because we were...umh...busy."

he says, turning towards you

"Busy...yeah...Chan, oh my god, it was...did I do these?"

you ask, touching his neck and chest

"No, no, it was a bed bug."

"Ehi -you slap his chest- I-god, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too. we got carried away, didn't we?"

he says, touching your neck and making you shiver

"Definitely, but I'm going to be honest I don't mind it and I don’t regret it.”

you say, smiling and kissing him on his naked chest

"Chan...-you say, sniffing around- something is burning."

"NO THE PANCAKES!"

he quickly turns towards the stove, swearing and mumbling against the burnt cakes

"Fuck, i-i wanted to make you breakfast."

he pouts, looking at the burnt pancakes

"It's okay, Channie -you giggle- thing like this happens when you're distracted."

"So you're saying that is your fault?"

he asks, looking at you, one of his dimples popping out

"Yeah, definitely."

you laugh

"Okay, put something on. I'll buy you breakfast."

"No."

you say

"Yes."

he says

"No."

"Yes."

"I said no."

"And I said yes."

"Channie, you don't have to"

"But I want to"

he says

"But-ugh, what if people see us around."

you say

"You're part of the staff, and we can go to the JYP cafeteria, the one inside the building."

"Mh, okay, but with one condition."

"Which one?"

he asks

a smirk appears on your face

"I don't like that smile."

he says

"I'll take you to the building with my motorcycle."

"You-you can ride?"

he asks

"yeah, I thought you liked it when I did it on your-"

"Shsh, don't-shut up, okay, okay."

he says, covering your mouth with one of his hands

"You're not reckless, aren't you?"

he asks with a worried tone

"Me? Reckless? absolutely not."

you smile

"That smile...I don't trust you."

"Not my business, Channie."

10 minutes later, you are in the elevator, and funny to say, but both of you choose a black hoodie (mostly because you have to cover your hickeys and not to catch a cold since the air is fresher)

"You copied my outfit."

you say, looking at him

"Do it look like I'm wearing Doc Martens and leggings?"

he asks, looking at you

"No, even if you would look good in leggings, but your outfit is total black, just like mine."

"I always dress like this."

“I aLwAyS dReSs LiKe ThIs”

You mock him

“It’s true, my whole wardrobe is black.”

"Yeah, but you still copied my outfit."

you smile, walking outside the elevator, Chan being by your side

"Jagiya.."

he says

"Mh?"

you say, not paying attention to the feeling that you felt in your stomach after that nickname

"I'm scared."

he says, looking at his feet

"About..?"

you say opening your garage door

"I've never been on a motorcycle."

he says shyly

"It's okay, Channie. There is a first time for everything. I'm going to explain everything, okay?"

"You-fuck, you can drive this thing?"

he asks

"Yeah, she's my baby."

"Baby? it's huge, how can you manage to drive this?"

you shrug your shoulders, looking at him

"I just do it, just trust me okay?"

"I do trust you."

he says

"Yeah?"

you ask, looking at him, and he simply nods

"Okay, big boy, put this on."

you say, giving him one of your motorcycle jackets

"I hope it fits; one of my friends gifted it to me, but she took three sizes bigger than mine, and I couldn't return it."

"It's a little bit tight on my shoulders."

he says, closing the zip

"It fits perfectly; you have protections, so it has to be tight."

you say, zipping your protective jacket

"It's weird. I'm not used to tight things."

he says, putting his backpack on his shoulders again

"Now, move, I have to take the motorcycle out of the garage. Can you grab the two helmets there? and when you're out, close the door, please."

you say, pointing at a wood cabinet. You press the clutch and move backward with the motorcycle; when the bike is in the correct position, you press down the stand.

"Okay, give me these."

you say, taking the helmets from his hands

"I'm going to put the helmets on you, okay, and I'll explain everything."

you say, putting the helmet on him. You do the same with yours

"Does it feel loose?"

you ask

"No, it's perfect."

you can see him smiling even if half of his face is covered

"And now -you press the inter-phone button- can you hear me?"

"Oh yeah, it's like you're inside my head."

he giggles

you turn on your bike, leaving her roar

"Damn, it's loud."

he giggles

"Okay, so -you say, straddling the motorcycle pushing the stand up with your foot- use that thing to get on and sit here."

you say, patting on the small sitting place for him

"Are you sure you can-?"

he asks

"Yes, trust me, Chan, I've been riding since I was 17."

you smile at him

he sits behind you, getting more comfortable once the bike is stable

"See? You won't fall; both of my feet are on the ground."

"Keep your feet there when we're on the road, don't put them on the ground at a red light or a stop sign. You have to put your arms around me tight or on the tank, especially when I brake; you'll feel it, so don't worry. When we take a turn, you have to follow me with your body. You're basically my shadow, or even better, my backpack, so follow every movement I make, okay?"

you say

"Yep"

"Now, arms around me."

you say, waiting for his arms

"Hold on tight."

you say before pressing the clutch with your left and putting the first gear with your left foot

"Here we goooo."

you say

"Oh my god, we're moving, ahah wow."

"Hold on tight, Channie."

you say, patting on his hands

"That's-wow, oh my god."

"You want me to go faster?"

you say once you're on the road

"Fuck yes"

he says

and you do as he said. You accelerate and shift gear; the sun has been out for hours, so the road is dry now.

"How does it feel?"

you ask him

"It's like, I don't know how to explain it."

"Freedom?"

you suggest

"Yeah, yes, that's the right word."

he says

"That's why you do it? I mean, that's why you drive?"

you hear his voice through the inter-phone, and you simply nod.

"Can you go faster? I wanna feel free."

he says

"Of course."

you giggle, and you shift once again the gear, the two of you speeding in the streets of Seoul, zig-zagging between the buses, cars, and taxis

"Oh my gooood, too fast, too fast"

he almost screams

"Ahahah, just hold onto me, and you'll be fine, Channie. Trust me."

the grip of his arms around your waist getting tighter

"You're crazy."

he says

"I know"

"And reckless, and oh my god, I want to do this every day."

he says

"I know -you laugh- should I pick you up tomorrow?"

"Oh, I—I'm not that brave. God, you have a big pair of balls to drive a thing like this. I could never."

"Oh, you could, and you would look so hot in one of these, with a compression shirt on-ush what a vision."

you say

"Are you fantasizing about me?"

he asks

"I mean, yeah, you as a biker? damn, Christopher, I would be on my knees."

you say, teasing him

"You were on your knees for me yesterday, and definitely, I'm not a biker."

he says, teasing you back

"I- you- uh- I hate you."

you say

"Yeah, yeah, it was clear with all the 'oh, ah' that you were whimpering against my ear last night."

he says, placing one of his hands on your thighs

"Oh-you-shut up"

you say, glad that he can't see the color of your cheeks

"Here we are person that I absolutely hate, and it's banned from my house."

you say braking and turning off the motorcycle once you're in the proper park

"Oh c'mon, I was joking -he says, taking off his helmet- I'll never mention cute whimpers again."

he pouts

"Shhh, are you crazy talking about this here?"

"Right, 'm sorry, where do I put this?"

he asks, lifting his helmet

"Oh, just bring it with you."

you say

"So...umh, breakfast?"

he asks, breaking the silence between the two of you

"Yeah, breakfast."

you sigh, looking at him, his hair messed up because of the helmet

"Ladies first"

he says, opening the front door of the building for you

"Oh, what a gentleman."

you say, walking toward the elevator, bowing to the person who just stepped out of the elevator

"Yeah, gentleman."

he mumbles, pressing the number three, and once the elevator doors closed, you talk

"What you're mumbling about?"

you look at him

"Nothing"

"Chan, c'mon, you can't do this after what we did."

"I'm -he sighs- I let you go first to look at your ass in those stupid leggings, so I'm not a gentleman."

he crosses his arms

"Oh, well, I'll make sure to put them more often."

you say, shrugging your shoulders

"You're not mad?"

he asks

"that you look at my ass when you can? No. You literally saw me naked, so that's nothing of this -you point at your whole body- that you haven't seen."

"Mh, good to know."

he smirks, and once the lift doors open, he goes

"Ladies first, of course."

he winks at you and you can do nothing but laugh at him.

after a couple of minutes of indecision, his indecision actually, he brings to the table two tall cups of cappuccino and a piece of cake for him

"You sure that you don't want a bite?"

he asks, offering you a piece of pie

"Hundred percent Chan"

you smile at him

"Do you have to work today?"

he asks

"Uhm... no, I don't think so, actually. I'm here just for breakfast—you giggle—why?"

"I have to meet with Han and Binnie for some fixes on a new song and do the usual Sunday live, so...would you mind coming with me?"

"I- you- you want me in your studio?"

"Yes"

"The one where no one is allowed?"

"Mhmm"

he nods, sipping on his cappuccino

"The one where the darker aura Christopher works?"

"Yes, that one."

"Mh, okay, if you... don't mind having me there."

you shrug your shoulders

"I don't mind it. You have a relaxing effect on me."

he says

"Interesting"

you say, sipping on your coffee

"The boys are already there. Should we go?"

"I follow you, mister dark aura."

"Oh, shut up."

he says, looking at you

"Hello everyone"

he says, entering in the studio

"Hi Hyung"

the bandmates say at the same time

"Oh, y/n? Hi, what are you doing here?"

"I-uh, I saw him in the middle of the street, he was like an abandoned puppy."

"Hey"

he says, sitting down in his working chair

"So I offered him a ride on my motorbike, and to pay me back, he offered me breakfast."

you laugh nervously

"You ride a motorcycle?"

changbin asks

"Yes? why does everybody find this weird."

you say

"I don't know, you don't look like someone who rides a motorcycle."

Binnie says

"But I am."

you laugh, sitting on the couch in the studio

The three men start working on the new song. You're not paying too much attention because

1. you're too distracted by the way Chan gets so severe when he's at work, so bossy but at the same time gentle with his members

2. you're working too, on your phone, but you're working, planning all the appointments with the members and the artists of JYP

"Oh, looks like someone had fun last night."

you hear Han's voice, and you're head snaps toward his direction so fast that you hear a crack in your neck

"Yeah, you weren't home last night. Where were you last night, Chan?"

Changbin says

then you notice that Chan took off his hoodie, revealing all the hickeys and bite marks on his neck

"What?"

he asks, looking at them

"Your neck Chan, what the fuck? What did you do?"

Han asks

"Uh, bed bugs."

he says, typing and clicking on his computer, not paying too much attention to them

"Yeah, a big one."

Han says

"One with human teeth"

Changbin laughs

"Oh shut up, the two of you."

Chan says, his cheeks turning pink

"Who is she?"

asks the two gossipy men

"No one, it was a bed bug."

he says once again

"Do you know anything about this?"

Changbin asks, and both of them turn toward you

"Uh, bed bugs are big these days."

you shrug your shoulders

"Mh, yeah."

they look at each other with a smirk

after a couple of minutes, they stopped asking about his marks and focused again on their work, recording some chorus, laughing when someone went out of tune, and listening over and over again at the song till it was perfect

"Aaaaand we're done."

Chan says, stretching up his arms in the air and clapping at the work of 3racha

"Aaaagh, I'm hungry."

Changbin says

"Me too."

Han says

"Hyung, y/n wanna join us for lunch?"

"Oh no, I must go now, maybe next time."

you smile at them

"I have to do the live so."

chan says

"Oh, okay."

they say

"Bye Hyung, Y/N see you on Tuesday."

Han says

"Bye guys, see you."

you smile

"Hyung, see you at the dorm and make sure to eat, or you get nervous, little bed bug…See you on Tuesday."

Binnie says, smiling at you and closing the door behind his back

"HOW THE FUCK DID HE?"

you say, covering your face with your hands

"He's not stupid."

Chan says

"But don't worry, they won't spill anything to anyone, that's for sure."

he gets up from his chair, locks the door of the studio, and walks toward you

"Ugh, are you sure?"

you ask, your voice muffled by your hands

"Yes, I trust them with my whole life. They're nosy, I know, but we have a rule: what happens or what we say in the studio stays in the studio."

He says, sitting next to you.

"Are you sure? I- I loved hat we did, and I love our bond, but I don't want to lose my job, Chan, I've worked so hard to be here, and I don't want to ruin everything because I had sex with you."

you say, looking at him

"Ouch"

he says

"No, no, I don't want you to think that I'm using you because I'm not okay? I loved our friendship way before what happened last night."

"I get what you're saying, y/n, don't worry, it's just that you're...I don't know…after what we did, I don't know what are we? friends? Best friends? friends with benefits?"

he looks at you

"Friends with..."

"Benefits, you know, two friends that have sex occasionally but remain friends."

"Yeah, Chan, I know what friends with benefits are."

"So?"

"What?"

you ask

"Friends with benefits? it will be our dirty little secret."

he says

"Mh, friends with benefits"

you nod

"Let's start this thing from now, yeah?"

he says, pulling your face towards him

"Yes, fuck yes."

you say, breaking the distance between the two of you, kissing his plumped lips again

"The door is locked, and we have about thirty minutes."

he says between the kisses

"Ugh, not enough time."

you say, pulling back from him

"We can go back to my place after the live, yeah?"

he nods, kissing your lips again, more roughly this time. You shift your position, straddling him, your legs on the side of his thighs

"It's not-that simple to- touch you with these stupid- mhpf yoga pants."

he says, kissing your lips

"You said that you loved them."

you say

"Yeah, and now I hate them; I can't touch you properly, which frustrates me."

He says, pulling you closer to him. You can feel his bulge against your clit

"It's okay, we don't need to take our pants off."

you say, smiling at him

"What- why? c'mon, I wanna see that pretty pussy of yours."

he says, frustrated, leaving his head against the headrest of the couch

"Mh, not now."

you say, starting to grind on his hard bulge

"Oh shit, what- do it again, please,"

he says, placing his hands on your hips, guiding you back and forth against him. You kiss gently his neck, trying not to bite him or suck his soft skin because his neck is already a mess.

"You- god"

he tries to say, one of his hands traveling around your body, grabbing one of your breasts under the hoodie

"Uh? you're not wearing a bra?"

he says

"Nope, free the nipples, Christopher."

You laugh while looking at him, poor guy, he looks desperate

"Fuck, full access all this time? Why didn’t you tell me? God, y/n, you're going to drive me crazy."

he says, kissing your lips. You laugh in his lips and keep grinding on his hard cock

"Please take your hoodie off, I want- at least I want to see your boobs."

"Uhm, so needy, aren't you?"

you ask, and he simply nods

you take off your hoodie, shivering, not because you're cold, no it's way too hot in the room, but because of the way that he looks at you; it looks like he wants you to eat you alive, literally. He licks his lips, looking at your boobs at then looking at your face, his eyes jumping between your two twins and your eyes

"What?"

you ask, looking at him, moving a clump of hair from his face

"I want to suck them."

he simply says

"Then do it. Don't be shy, Christopher."

"Oh, don't call me like that."

he says, looking at you, his eyes darkened

"I know that you like it, just admitted."

you whisper to his ear

"Mphf, if you don't stop grinding on me, I'll cum in my pants."

he says

"And? there's no shame in cumming in your pants, I love to see you so desp-shit"

you say, trying to find any other word to say, but your brain is short-circuiting, his tongue is moving around one of your breasts, sucking on the nipple, while with one hand, he pays attention to the other one

"I wanna live here."

he says, sucking and biting your nipple

"Mhpf, in the studio?"

you tease him even if you know what he meant

"Mh -he breaks off the contact between his mouth and your breast- between your boobs, I want to live here, they're-fuck, they're like a warm marshmallows."

you laugh

"I'm dead serious, y/n"

he looks at you so seriously that you have to cover your mouth not to laugh. You kiss his lips, making him smile

"You're going to be late, so let me do something for you, yeah?"

you say, shifting position and getting on your knees in front of him

"Oh fuck"

he says, pulling his pants down, revealing his hard dick

"You're going to drive me crazy, you know that?"

he says, caressing your face

"That's the point, Christopher."

you say, kissing one of his naked thighs

"Please, jagiya, please."

he says in a desperate tone. That nickname again, heavy like a rock on your chest, just friends with benefits, correct?

So you do what a good friend would do, you take his boner with your hands, stroking him up and down a couple of times, licking the tip, focusing on that particular sensitive part, making him whimper.

You take all of him in your mouth, breathing through your nose; you look up at him, his head on the headrest, his eyes closed, enjoying every moment, one of his hands in your hair, scratching your scalp gently.

You keep working with your mouth and tongue, adding once again your dominant hand, just because you can't take all of him in your mouth.

"Jagi...fuck."

"Uh, language, please."

you say, taking him out of your mouth without stopping working with your hand.

"How am I supposed not to say bad words when you're on your knees sucking me off?"

he asks, looking down at you

"You're dramatic."

you say, retaking him in your mouth, you know that he's about to cum because he's throbbing in your mouth

"Baby, i'm-i'm about to."

he can't even finish the sentence that a load of fluid goes into your mouth, you swallow it all the way.

You clean the corner of your mouth with your fingers and stay on your knees, looking up at him with a stupid smile on your face.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

He says, pulling his pants up

“I’m not looking at you in any particular way.”

“Yes, you are, come here.”

He says, patting the place next to him

“Thank you”

He says when you sit next to him

“You don’t have to thank me, Channie.”

“I have to, I told you that you have a relaxing effect on me. And I’m talking generally, not when we...do other stuff, you know, even when we do them, but..."

“I get what you’re saying, Channie.”

You giggle

“Aagh, come here.”

He says, placing a hand on your neck and pulling towards him

“No, wait, I’ve just…”

“I don’t care, y/n, just kiss me, please.”

You sigh, and you kiss his lips, it’s a quick kiss, almost as if you did it every day

“You’re going to be late.”

You say, touching his forehead with yours

“I know, but I have to do it, it’s a safe space for me, and stays.”

“I know”

You say, pecking his lips once again

“I’m in my studio, I wait for you there, okay?”

You say, putting your hoodie on

“Mh, okay, thank you y/n, really.”

He says, kissing your cheek

“That’s what a good friend would do.”

You smile at him

“Yeah, good friend.”

He echos you

“Bye, bed bug.”

He says when you unlock the door

“Bye, Channie -you giggle at the nickname- don’t forget to put your hoodie on.”

“I won’t, thank you.”

He says, smiling, dimples on full display

Good friends, right?

A friend that has marked you all over your body

A friend you would go to live with just to have breakfast ready every morning

A friend that makes you feel butterflies,

A friend that fucks you till your brain short-circuit

A friend who makes you fall asleep while singing and cuddling

Maybe he’s more than “A friend”

A/N: me after writing this 🏃🏻‍♀️💨

Tag list: @paboswriting (because of the mention of biker Chan, we have an obsession about him)

[youronlydarlin]

warning: kinda sad ANGST, Simon losses you :( , ooc kinda?? But he's soft for you only, trust me bro

This was kinda inspired by that one part in the comics where our poor, Si holds his mums skull, n he jus'... Kinda nuzzles into it. I dunno it just bought on some sad feeling, mkay...

Simon who slightly raises the cup of tea he's drinking each time he has one, just to let you know he's relaxing. Or trying his best too, at least. Doesn't know what he'll do if he worried you from beyond the grave. Sometimes he looks at all the belongings you left behind. Saying how they probably miss you, but not nearly as much as he does.

Unlike some, Simon uses your things. He doesn't want the house to go through the pain of loosing you too. So he drinks from your mug, and sits on your chair. Reads your favorite books, but never takes out the book marks in case you want to continue reading them. He also completes your bucket list for you, and even though he's the one doing them he always whispers 'good job, to the wind, hoping they'll carry the messenge to you.

Simon who speaks to your framed pictures. He remembers each, and every memory behind them. "Bet your happy... Now it'll always be my turn to grab the 'bloody groceries.." he jests. He hopes that one made you laugh. Knowing you, you would've. It's a mystery how you always laughed at his lame jokes. Though your laugh's always been better than the awful punchlines.

Simon who passes by that cafe you bugged him to go with you to, and he feels his throat go dry. He never got to take you there because of a sudden call from Price, telling him about an urgent, albeit sudden, mission. He definitely regrets not taking you out on dates more often. There's so many shops opening that he knows you would've loved to see.

Simon who's heart breaks at how quickly the world turns without you. Everything's moving so quickly, leaving him behind like it's already moved on, and he hates it. He hates how there's less clothes to fold now. Food is served, but only for one. The taste of it is flavorless, and dry. It's times like these, that he wishes he should have took the time and learn your recipes.

But what's worse, is that your side of the bed is cold. And it'll remain that way forever. At times he'll reach for you absentmindedly. Nightmares about war traded for dreams about you, but during those dreamless nights where sleep doesn't visit he'll stroke your pillow the same way he'd do to keep your hair out of your face, and pull the covers over the empty space you once occupied. He wonders if it's cold where you are right now. But just know that he's always willing to warm you up if ever you come back.

Simon who...

Stands at the doorway. Bag slinged over his shoulder, full of everything he needs and more for deployment. He knows he can't leave without properly saying goodbye, so he fishes out his wallet, and digs out a picture of you. He holds it up to his face, and it's funny. How you're not even staring at the camera when the photo was taken. No, you were staring at him. This one's always been his favorite. So he clears his throat, and wishes you don't hear the slight shake in his tone.

"..By now you would've told me to be careful.. And I will, by the way. But, m' sorry for all the times I didn't...'

....

" I have to go now. Don't need them gettin' on my ass for 'being late.. so.."

....

"..You just rest now, ok, love? There's nothing else for you to worry about' anymore. I love you, always. Wish me, and the boys luck, yeah?.."

He gives a light kiss to your photo, and it's as if you're with him when he steps outside the door..

a/n: This was a challenge to write, and I don't know what to feel about the results. I'm just polishing my english, I guess. M'not good at writing angst, you can probably tell, also my grammar feels off on this one, again. English isn't my first language, sorry. So please correct me on any mistakes I've made! But putting all that aside, I hope you like this more than I do! And, always remember that you are loved, and cared for! Have an amazing day, my darlings!

Yours, truly,

–dolly

[strawberrysodaslut]

idk if you can do this but can you do a poly!marauders x gn!reader, and the boys’ reactions when yn wears a binder one day.

i'm not trans nor have i ever worn a binder, so i hope this is an accurate portrayal!! feel free to correct me on anything i've messed up.

Getting a binder was a long time coming. After months of research, hesitations and all the time spent waiting, going to the store and getting one, you never thought wearing something to bind would make you feel so damn free. Finally, understanding what people meant when you heard about gender euphoria.

You hadn’t told the boys about your latest purchase. In fact, you hadn’t brought up the concept to them. Not that they hadn’t been supportive of you, they really were. In a world of magic, pronouns were something that hardly needed grasping, and they would correct anyone who messed up politely, sending you a soft smile as they did. But- you couldn’t help but be anxious about them finding out. What if this was too much? What if they get freaked out?

So, you kept your binder to yourself.

At first, you didn’t think they had noticed. You wore looser clothes or sports bras earlier, so it probably wasn’t as big of a difference to others. It wasn’t until dinner that night where you noticed Sirius staring at you from across the table.

“What?” You said, chomping down on a bread roll to hide the way self conciousness ebbed in your chest.

Sirius squinted his eyes, looking like James when he tries to read without his glasses. “You look different.” He says. “Did you do something to your face?”

James laughs from next to you. “Did they do something to their face? What kind of question is that, Padfoot?”

“Well, I don’t know!” Sirius exclaims, “Admit it though Prongs, something about them is different!”

You find it hard to not instinctively crawl under the table to hide. So you curl in on yourself, pressing your chin to your chest to calm the heat across your cheeks. As if he can sense your anxiety, Remus places his hand on your shoulder.

“Guys stop.” He says, light concern lacing his voice, but he’s clearly trying to hide it. “Obviously they’re just relaxed now that the holidays are coming, isn’t that right?” He says to you, giving you a slight smirk and raise of his eyebrows that only happen during his most devious pranks. ‘go with this’, he silently urges you.

You smile, nodding your head. “Yeah, I’m glad classes are almost over.”

“Well,” Sirius starts, “We should have holidays more often then. Haven’t seen you this confident in- I don’t even know.”

“I’ll start the petition!” James pipes.

You smile, glad to be supported by your boys, but still relieved that your secret remains yours.

Little did you know later that night, the boys had a plan to throw a movie night with you in the common room. So at nighttime, when you had changed out of your binder so you wouldn’t sleep in it, James surprised you by barging into your room.

“Oi! It’s movie time- oh sorry.” James said, cutting himself off to cover his eyes as you put on your sweatshirt.

Remus followed him, quickly closing his eyes and turning around when he saw you, “Jeez Prongs! They’re changing!” He scolded.

“I know! That’s why I’m…” He trails off, gesturing to the hand that’s covering his eye- going completely unnoticed to Remus with his eyes shut tight.

You shake your head, a soft giggle escaping from your lips. God, they’re dramatic. “It’s okay guys, don’t stress.” You throw your sweatshirt over your head. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

James makes a soft grunt, before removing the hand from his eyes and taking you in. “Well, sorry again.” He says. His eyes slowly drift behind you to something on your bed, and tilts his head. “Hey what’s that?”

You almost jump, turning behind you to see your binder laid out on your bed, ready to be put away. You shudder a deep breath before trying your best to gesture nonchalantly. “It’s uh-” It’s hard not to cringe at how your voice trembles. Okay, nonchalant isn’t working. So you instead opt to be candid. “It’s my binder.”

James looks between you and the binder, his brows furrowed. “Binder…?” He questions before his eyes go wide. He paces towards you in a frenzy. “You’re not binding your magic, are you? Listen, you shoul-”

A giggle almost slips out again as you interrupt him before he explodes, “No Prongs! It’s for my chest. It binds my chest.”

Despite the reassurance that no, you were not binding your magic, James doesn’t look any less confused. If anything, he looked even more. “Why would you want to bind your chest?” He asks, his brows furrowing as he makes his way from you to the binder.

Candid, you remind yourself. You’re being candid. “So it would be flatter.” You say.

A beat passes before James replies, still looking down at the material.

“Oh.” “Oh?” You ask. Your heart thumping in your chest with anticipation.

He makes a small squeak as he turns back to you, “I-I just didn’t realise that was something you worried about.” He says, his voice sympathetic but laced with concern. “It’s not…” He pauses, “Is this where we’re supposed to say something to make you feel better? Because you don’t have to do that for other people you know...”

“No, I get that.” You say, a small smile making its way to your face. “This isn’t for other people, it’s for me. I’m more comfortable with myself when I wear it.” You gesture to the binder, as if it hasn’t been the subject of the past couple of minutes.

With that, James’ whole demeanour changes. The tension in his body disappears as he smiles wide. “Well then, we’re thrilled for you. Aren’t we moony?” He says, nudging Remus who has just been staring at you since the conversation started.

As if he has just awoken from a nap, Remus startles to attention. “Oh- uh yes! I’m supportive of whatever you choose as long as you're happy.” Remus replies, smiling at you before chuckling “Sorry it’s just- I knew that’s what was different.”

“You staring at their chest are you?” James teases Remus. “Perv.”

“No! I-” He exclaims, a red tint painting his face.

You smile at him, about to reassure the boy, when a crashing sound comes from downstairs before a yell echoes through the hallway. Remus mutters a small ‘fuck’s sake’ as the cause of the noise comes bounding towards your room.

“Sorry gentlemen- gender neutral, of course. The popcorn has burned.” Sirius announces before he’s entered the room, reeking of burnt popcorn with a few pieces lodged in his hair. Sharing James’ nosiness, his eyes quickly fixate on your binder. “Hey, what’s that?”

James scoffs before turning to Sirius. “It’s a binder, Padfoot, and they’re very happy.” He says with pride, his chin lifting. “Catch up.”

Remus’ attention, however, has drifted away from the binder and he asks the real important question, “How the hell do you burn magic popcorn?”

Sirius jumps to the defensive, “Hey! I’m the one who told you not to put me in charge of food!” He says, throwing his hands up. “I’m obviously more suited to the pillow gathering region.”

With a dictionary worth of swear words, Remus stomps down the hall to make some unburnt popcorn. James quickly following behind, arguing why him being the pillow gatherer was the best choice.

With Sirius and you alone, he turns to you. “Hey, it’s cool that you have that now. Reg used to use one a while ago.” He says, before grabbing your hand, “Now, let’s watch some movies on a subpar pillow arrangement.”

You laugh as you both go to follow the other two boys. “Sounds good.” You say, feeling more secure with them than ever. Your binder sitting blissfully on your bed, ready to be used again tomorrow.

poly marauders masterlist

[p0ssywhippedcream]

I'm back again! So for me, all the one-shots where Percy is being a shit to y/n are like a series of  a toxic relationship, and I WANT HIM TO SUFFER SO BAD. It could be because I despise assholes or because he reminds me too much of my shitty ex (Percy, I adore you, but this is personal now).

Yes, my ex wasn't over his ex while being with me and told me that he preferred to still have the 140 pictures (yes, I remember this detail) of her than be with me.

Like I said before, I would love fluff, but I need vengeance! I NEED IT!

So please, I beg you! Write something that will fulfill my soul; I know you can. I only want him to pay, nothing else.

Love, THE Anon 🧚

I've tried to figure out how to say "fuck your ex" in a creative way but low-key im too tired he's just a douche n im so happy you know you deserve better n you're not with him!!! Also I wrote this sleep deprived on a 8 hour flight n actually kinda hate it but I promised so I deliver.

48 times. 48 times Percy’s called you and 48 times you haven’t picked up. It’s been about two weeks since you left and he hasn’t heard a lick of you, complete silence on your end.

For a while he respected the wall you’d put up, only because he didn’t miss what was behind it. He had Annabeth, his best friend and he didn’t need you.

Then earlier, he was doing the dishes with his mom. She was drying and he was washing and maybe he would’ve noticed her silence sooner if he wasn’t zeroed in on scrubbing off a chunk of fried egg.

When he finally looked up, Percy noticed her staring out the window with the look she only got when she was thinking of his dad and nudged her gently.

“Mom?”

Sally turned and met his questioning gaze. Her eyes were less sad, more reminiscent.

“Sometimes I just wonder, what it would have been like if he stayed.”

Percy nods, thinking of the man in the next room who stepped in the empty role his father left behind.

“I love Paul, my life now, but I just know that... maybe if he tried a little harder, you could have had it a little easier… I won’t ever forget the love I had for him because it gave me you, but I don’t think I’ll ever forgive it either.”

And now he’s sitting on his bed, slumped over his phone with so many wonders. Could you ever forgive him? Why was it so easy to let you go if it hurts so bad now? 

He calls you again, gets your up-beat ringtone and can’t help the surge of anger. It’s misdirected, you don’t deserve it and it immediately returns full force his way with a guilt tenfold.

So he calls you again and you tell him to leave a message at the beep. He hangs up before he can hear it.

His thumb hovers over the little phone on his screen, 50 times is pushing it.

He gives you a break, and waits, and waits, and waits.

And an hour later, his phone rings and he practically pounces on the device. It’s your smiling face shining up at him and your concerned voice echoing when he picks up.

“Percy? You okay? What’s going on?”

“I-I’m okay, I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Percy,” You sigh, “I was seriously freaked out, I thought you might be dying or something.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

He heard you take a breath, holding one of his own.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“I’m- I’m sorry. I’m really sorry and really stupid and I should’ve apologized so much sooner.”

“Yeah, I know.” He winces, “Anything else?” 

“Annabeth doesn’t mean anything to me that way, it’s you. It’s always been you and I’ve been too blind to see the obvious. I thought I needed her still because I knew I could never ask you to be what she was.”

You don’t say anything, he’s compelled to go on but a little scared he’s already messed up.

“Percy, there’s so much wrong with everything you just said but I don’t have the energy to correct you. I’m tired, it’s been a long day and I really just can’t do this, okay?”

“Wait, p-please,” His voice cracks and he makes no attempt to cover it. “Can you just listen to me?”

“No, I can’t. When I said I was done, I meant it. Don’t call me again.”

And with that, the phone call is over. The dial tone is a harsh contrast to your soft voice, it breaks his heart a little more. He misses you a little more when he pulls the phone away from his ear and sees what he could have had in your profile picture. He hates himself a little more when the next number he’s calling is Annabeth’s and she’s picking up with a care in her tone he only wants to hear from you.

[4ngelholic]

"kissed the scars on his skin"

ft. diluc , childe

cw. mentions of scars , blood (?)

DILUC RAGNIVINDR - you waited in your shared bedroom with your lover, casting a few glances to the clock on the other side of the room 11:53 pm. he should be either finishing up or on his way back from protecting the outside mondstadt's walls.. or he got angry and venting his frustration out on some abyss mages and hilichurls if something happened during the day at the tavern. most likely not. he would've sent you a letter no matter how busy he was. speaking of letters, you two wrote each other more letters than usual this week since both of you were too busy. you were asleep first, and he would leave the house first. so, today you wanted at least a few minutes with him before you guys sleep. hearing your bedroom door open, you see him pushing his front hair back while entering. you stand up and give him a soft smile when your eyes lock with his slowly widening. "my love? why are you still awake?" he asked. "waiting for you, of course, 'cause I've been oh so very lonely."

"I see.. sorry."

you push the door closed while walking behind him taking off his jacket for him, and putting it on a hanger.

"psh, don't be sorry now. go change, don't make me wait too long. I might fall asleep on you."

he surprisingly walked faster to your shared bathroom to change, causing you to stiffle a laughter. you made your way to your side of the bed, slipping under the covers. he came out as fast as he came in from the bathroom. he quickly slipped into the bed and laid on his side beside you. you move your hand going right behind his head and slowly pull his hair tie off. he was tired, but the slow dim light of the candle reflected off the side of his face. he was tired but calm. moving your hand back, you slowly moved both of your hands to his loose white button shirt to unclapse it, making sure to go slow. after all of them were unbuttoned, you slowly made your way closer to his body. giving him small and light kisses starting from his collarbone, shoulders, chest, and stomach where all of them had big, and small scars scattered across his body.some of the scars had a little more kisses than others while some were lighter than the others. half way, his body seemed to relax probably fast alseep.after kissing all the ones that were currently visible to the eye you made your way back to face him, this time peppering his face with kisses causing his face to scrunch up a bit. cute. you wrap your arms around his waist and hide your face into his neck,

"goodnight diluc."

·˚✎ ﹏

CHILDE - "sorry about this darling and ouch." he winces as you wrap the bandage around his torso from behind, slightly pulling it harder as a warning. you were at bubu pharmacy talking to parents and checking up with their kids. all was peaceful until he came barging in all bloody. calmly pushing the patients that were already done with their check ups out, shouting the next appointment would be, you pull childe's arm and seating him beside your desk.

"where, what, why, and how did this happen to you?!" you grit pacing around your office cabinets looking for the correct supplies.

"I got a little carried away at lingju pass with some abyss mages. I was finished with some of you know, business I had to attend to for the fatui, and I was strolling around. and you should've seen me darling, I even got a headshot! I could've finished them off if it weren't for their unnecessary shield. their shield was quite hard to remove." at this point, he was flexing his muscles to show off to you.

"stop moving. if you don't, it'll only be bothersome once you go back on the field with it wrapped."

he puts his hand on his chest, looking at you with sad eyes through his lashes "you pain me, darling."

"I pain you? I wouldn't pain you if you just listened to me."

he turns his head to face you,his body still facing the front. "hmph! well, I do say.. I've been a good patient, right? where's my reward? hm? hmm??" there wasn't light in his eyes, but they sparkled so much from his expectations it could put a night sky full of stars to shame. you place your hands firm on his shoulders, ducking your head. your face a few inches away from his back, you kiss his current open wound that was covered. pulling your lips away, your breath fanning his skin, you could see the goosebumps starting to form. you slowly kiss the other scars he already had from before.

"there, feel any better?" you smile.

childe stood up from his chair, a little quickly almost knocking the stool over if it weren't for you catching it on time. "o-oh.. uhm. yeah. mhm. yes, great. amazing, actually." the smile on your face slowly turned into sly grin as you see his ears burning red.

[redwinterroses]

(part one) (part two)

Eureka was silent and mostly dark when they arrived, the only light shining dimly from torches placed around the buildings to keep mobs at bay. It was almost as small as Oakville, but there was at least a saloon, and what looked like a proper general store. 

Tango led the way to the saloon door, which opened—unlocked—under his hand. 

“Trusting,” Jimmy muttered.

“Rural,” Tango corrected, pushing the door inward and stepping inside. The floor creaked loudly under his feet. “Everybody knows everybody—and thieves don’t stick around long.”

The saloon was empty, but a single lantern burned on the bartop, shedding just enough light on the room that they didn’t trip over the rough, three-legged stools around the tables.

Tango closed the door behind Jimmy and nodded at the back wall. “It’s no hub hotel,” he said, keeping his voice low. “But there’s no creepers. We can sleep here for the night and take it up with Cubby in the morning.”

Jimmy looked at the hard wooden floor and thought longingly of the thin mattress in his train cabin. 

“I hate the frontier,” he said, pulling off his jacket and folding it into a rough pillow. “This city boy isn't made for roughing it.”

“Well, lucky for you: we won't have to.” Tango hopped up onto the bar and swung his legs around, slipping back off into the area behind the counter. “First rule of business: drinks.”

“We can’t steal—”

“I’m not stealin’ anything,” Tango said, scorn sharpening his whisper. He set a thick glass bottle on the counter. “It’s an understanding out here: water is for anyone who needs it.”

At the thought of water, Jimmy became suddenly aware of how dry his throat was. 

“Anyway,” Tango said, pouring them each a tumbler full of clear water, “I’m pretty sure Cub has his own rain basin by now, so it’s not like we’d be putting him out much.”

They drank the water—and second and third glasses—gratefully, and then Tango set everything to the side and said. “Right. And now, for beds.”

“Mine’s back on the train,” Jimmy said with regret. “I can’t believe I didn’t think to grab my satchel.”

“Not to worry, my friend.” Like a showman reaching for his next trick, Tango crouched under the bar, and his voice was muffled when he said, “Ol’ Cub has one rule he follows like a religion, and it's this—”

Jimmy heard the telltale sound of an ender chest unsealing. 

“An ender chest?” He leaned over the bar in awe. 

Tango looked up at him, a dim purple glow lighting his face from below. 

“Yes sir, yes sir—” Tango held the lid open and gestured toward the void-dark opening, the violet swirls of magic twirling through his fingers. “If you don't have a bedroll in yours, I've probably got some extra blankets somewhere.”

“No, no—I know I’ve got one packed away somewhere.” Jimmy had never owned an ender chest of his own—the materials were incredibly expensive in the spawn regions, and the silk touch required to maintain them was almost as bad. But he’d stopped by one of the public banks before leaving home and stowed away some of his belongings, on the assumption that someone out in the new generation would have access. 

This chest looked handmade, a little lopsided and patchwork, with plain iron fittings where every one he’d ever seen had been gold, and the obsidian casing was knapped roughly. But it seemed to work just fine as Tango slipped his hand into the oily dark and pulled out a sturdy bedroll. 

“Your turn,” he said, stepping back but holding the lid of the ender chest open for Jimmy, who hesitated. 

“And this Cub person—he won’t mind?”

“Nah. Worst case scenario, he makes fun of me for not bringing my own. Best case scenario, he’s got extras stashed away somewhere he wouldn’t mind partin’ with.”

Extra ender chests. Jimmy was boggled. Tango must have seen the look on his face, because he laughed a little and said, “Cub’s a pro. Used to speedrun in new generation up until a few years back. Man can hunt blaze like you and I hunt taters in a tater patch.”

Shaking his head, Jimmy reached into the icy darkness of the ender chest, feeling around the edges of his stowed items until he found the leather straps of his extra bedroll. He pulled it out, and then slipped his hand back in again. 

“It’s not whiskey,” he said, withdrawing a small cloth pouch. “But how do you feel about candied sweetberries?”

Tango’s eyebrows shot up and he grinned. “I certainly wouldn’t say no.”

They set up their bedrolls in the corner of the barroom, Jimmy purposefully placing his nearer to the door. He kicked off his boots, but placed them near to hand before untying the drawstring of the pouch and proffering it to Tango. The sweetberries—still chilled from their storage in the void-space of the ender chest—had been dried and dusted with sugar, and left sticky residue on whatever they touched. But they were a welcome bit of normalcy to Jimmy… they tasted like home. 

Tango took a couple and popped them into his mouth, closing his eyes at the rush of flavor. “Oh, that’s good,” he said. He pushed his hat off his head and let it fall behind him, his ginger hair spiking in all directions. “Thanks kindly.”

The room was dark as they settled in to sleep, and Jimmy found himself staring at the windows: slightly paler squares against the midnight darkness. Orange torchlight flickered faintly under the door, but not enough to illuminate anything.

He waited until he heard Tango’s breathing deepen and even out. Then, as silently as he could, he slipped his boots back on.

And… he sat, staring at the door and trying to muster up the energy to leave.

Tango seemed a decent sort. Even the type of person Jimmy could see himself becoming friends with, in a different world. He didn’t deserve the fate that came with befriending James Solidarity. Jimmy needed to get away before the curse really latched on.

…But surely an hour or two of sleep wouldn’t hurt. He was so exhausted he felt like his eyes were scraping sandpaper every time he blinked. If he could just nap for a little while, he could still slip out before Tango woke in the morning.

Reluctantly—knowing it was a stupid move and yet unable to bring his leaden limbs to do otherwise—Jimmy lay back down on the bedroll. 

Just a bit of sleep, he thought. The pouch of sweetberries slipped from his fingers and fell to rest on the floor between him and the door.

And Jimmy slept.

[mayfast]

Chapter 3 WIP (Unbetaed)

Crumbs for the the TigerSeal and SeaMonkey fans. So if you've been wondering where I've been, I got diagnosed with epilepsy. So I got put on some meds that make me hella tired. Like all the time. I would sleep 15 hours a day if you let me. So it's been a struggle to get this next chapter up and rolling. But I'm close to finishing it. Afterwards I'll send it to my Beta (I feel so cool saying that), then I'll get it all posted on AO3, God bless that site.

Enjoy~

__________________________

“Jake Sully,” Somehow, he’s been expecting this all night. But he still wishes he could have another day to mentally prepare himself. He throws a casual look over his shoulder to spot Ao’nung behind him, glancing at him almost shyly.

            “Yes?” He sighs. He doesn’t want to give him the wrong impression, he’s started liking Ao’nung more. After he got over the Metkayina calling his daughter a freak, picking a fight with his kids, and almost killing Lo’ak. But hey, everyone makes mistakes, right?

            “I want to court Spider.” He’s blunt and staring Jake in the eyes. Almost like it’s a challenge, like he’s ready to fight. Jake can almost appreciate the little spitfire, but after the tongue lashing from Norm and Max earlier…he’s caught between a rock and a hard place.

            “Yeah?” He acknowledged with some gravel in his voice.

            “…Yes.” The other held some confusion in his eyes. His blue eyes wandering over Jake’s slumped form, trying to get a read on him. “I don’t know what I’m doing though.” This draws a snort out of him. Took a big man to admit when he’s lost. Maybe Ao’nung is maturing.

            “How so?” He raised an eyebrow and patted the ground beside. He had decided to take a little detour back to the center beach, where the adults are still celebrating, after laying Tuk down for bed. He was going to send Spider, Kiri and Lo’ak to sleep when he got back, but he wanted to give them a little more time with their friends. Now the current bane of his existent came and found him.

The younger man sat down on the beach as Jake observed the sky. “I… I don’t … There’s a lot.” Ao’nung breathed after a moment. His shoulders slumping, mirroring Jake’s posture.

“Well, find your first question.” He laughed, turning to watch Ao’nung roll his eyes, tail twitching as he digs his fingers through the sand.

“Is Spider old enough to be courted?” He questions after a moment. His gaze fixated on the sand below him and his ears are pinned back, distraught. Jake can almost feel pain. Dating someone younger than you can be a risky game, especially when they’re a different species with different aging practices.

“Dating.” Jake corrects him and looks up at the sky again. Finding the star that supposedly his first home orbits around. “We call it dating. And yes, he’s old enough to go on dates with you.” Norm’s going to tear him a new one. Max will stitch him up just to tear him a second one.

“It’s where you do courting practices, but you don’t mate even if you think your ready, at least not yet, he’s not old enough for sex, okay?” It feels dirty coming out of his mouth, like ash and acid. Yet, he needs to set some boundaries, some lines in the sand. He’s the only one here who understands how human teens work, kind of.

“Okay.” Ao’nung nods, good, he sounds accepting.  “How do I court the human way?”

“Why do you want to do it the human way?” Jake finds himself suspicious. Not that anything Ao’nung says doesn’t make sense, but why is he going so left field for someone’s who’s so different from him. Jake had to learn the Na’vi way, because he was on Eywa��eveng. Ao’nung doesn’t need to go out of his way to learn another culture.

“He’s ashamed to be human.” Ao’nung tells him after a moment of internal debate. He’s confident in his answer, sounds like he and Spider have already had a conversation. “I don’t want Spider to be ashamed of what he is, or who he is. So, I want to prove to him that I accept all of him. Even the parts he doesn’t like so much.”

            He’s not exactly sure how to feel about this. It’s a lot for his jar head to take in. Ao’nung trying to do this the right way. And shouldn’t Jake want the best for Spider? Someone who wants to make him happy and feel like he belongs? Still, shouldn’t that have been him? What if Spider end up with Daddy issues and acts out later in life? He could get self-destructive, well more self-destructive, or codependent on Ao’nung.

            “Humans are different from Na’vi, Ao’nung, you know this. From how they look, to how they show affection.” He grabs Ao’nung by the shoulder, needing the other to look him in the eye. “They can’t form a tsaheylu, ever. Are you okay that?” Because he doesn’t want Ao’nung to regret his decision ten years down the line and start resenting his baby. It would be unfair to both of them.

            “With him, I don’t need one.” Ao’nung clasps a hand over his forearm. The grip just as tight as his hand on the Metkayina’s shoulder. “I want him the way he is.”

            It soothes a part of his soul. Jake’s gone through most of his life without a bond. But after experiencing it, he’s not sure he could go back. It was like an addiction. The peace of mind his mate gave him. A safe space that only he and she were allowed to curl up into. Ao’nung would never have that.

            “If you’re serious about this, I need to warn you that humans don’t mature until twenty-five. That means he’s still changing a bit, figuring out who he is.” Jake retracts his hand and throws it over his bend knee. “I wouldn’t change being with Neytiri for anything, but I was twenty-two when she and I bonded. I was still figuring out my place in the world, but she helped me through it. Spider may not be the same person he is now.”

            He notices the way Ao’nung closes his eyes and smiles. “Then he is like the sea. It’s never same.”

[vay99]

Mikey x reader

Late night rides

Anime/Manga: Tokyo revengers

"It's 3AM what do you want Mikey? Nooooooo. I was asleep you idiot. What??? Now? Fine." hanging up your phone you stare at the ceiling. "Why can't he annoy Draken at this time?" 

You put on some jeans and a hoodie as you sneak out of the front door as quiet ay possible. 

"Hey (y/n)!" Mikey greets you, not caring for the time at akk. 

"Shhhht you dumbass." you shush him, hands over his mouth. "My parents aren't as chill as your grandpa." 

"Yeah yeah, put this on." he hands you his helmet before you drive off to a destination only he knows. /Why did I get out off bed for this? My warm comfy bed. Mikeys back is warm as well. I might just/

"We're almost there." Mikey wakes you from your thoughts as you leave the town behind you. 

"Where is there?" 

"You'll see." Mikey laughs, enjoying the late ride. That boy would live on his bike if he could, well he did fell asleep on it more than once, not while driving, so he actually could. 

"The sea?" you question, still sitting on the bike. 

"Tada." Mikey points his hands towards the sea while smiling like an idiot. 

"Mikey... you woke me up at 3AM on a school night for the sea?" you get off the bike, not sure whether to throw the helmet at him or not. 

"Yep." he proudly announces. 

"Why?" 

"Because tonight is the perfect night to see the milky-way." his hands now point at the sky which you haven't given much attention until now. And he was correct. 

"Wow." 

"I even bought a towel so we could lay on the beach. Come on it'll be fun." Mikey takes your hand as you walk a bit, before sitting down on the towel. 

"This is really amazing." you mumble, eyes glued to the star filled sky. 

"Isn't this better than sleep?" Mikey asks with a smile. 

"It is. But thanks to you I'll probably fall asleep during the lessons." you scold him. 

"Just skip school." he casually answers, laying his head on your lap as he looks up at the sky. "Life is too short to do things you don't like." 

"Mikey as inspiring that sounds I can't just quit school. I'd like to go to college some day." you remind him, laying back as well. 

"But why? College is boring, school is boring." he closes his eyes as you start playing with his hair. 

"It is, but I wanna become a surgeon." 

"You know how much you gotta study for that? Are you alright???" 

"If I were a surgeon then maybe I could've saved Baji." you stop your hand for a second, resting it on Mikeys head. "You guys always get yourselfs in trouble, Draken nearly died. I can't just watch you guys doing that over and over again. I've always loved anatomy, but after the last incident I've set my goal." 

"You're really determined to do so, I see." Mikey smiles quietly to himself. "It's your way of protecting your friends." 

"It is. That doesn't mean that you can get yourself on deaths doorstep each day, got it." you squish his cheek. 

"Yeah yeah got it, not before sore finished." he jokes and instantly regrets it as you remove your hand from his hair. "No no I'm sorry, please continue." 

He may be the boss of Toman but he loves when you play with his hair. Sometimes you really forget that he's just 15. 

"Are you cold?" Mikey asks after some confortable silence. 

"Mhm? Now that you say it yes." 

"You've been shivering how didn't you notice." he starts laughing as he sits up and hands you his jacket. 

"Won't you-" 

"No were not gonna discuss that again. Wear my jacket." Mikey cuts you off, smiling proudly as you put it in. 

Laying back down you keep admiring the milky way as you talk about everything and nothing and the things in between. 

"It's already 5AM, shit I gotta get home." you notice as you check your phone. 

"Awww, already?" Manjiro sulks, but doesn't interfere as you gather the towel. Casually intertwining your hands he walks back with you towards his bike. The ride home goes way to fast for your liking, if it weren't for school you'd wanna drive until sunrise. 

"And wasn't this worth it?" Mikey asks as he gets off his bike. 

"Yeah, but not totally. I still miss something." you say as you think to yourself /Don't chicken out this time/

"Huh? Did you lose your phone?" he panics. 

"No Mikey." you exhale loudly. "I meant something... like a... kiss?" /Oh damn I did it/ "Can I get a kiss?" 

"A kiss? But we aren't even together yeoooooh." his realization kicks in a little too late. "Are you sure that you want this?" 

"Yes. I like you." you confess as short as possible. All the tries in front of the mirror made you come to the conclusion that long confessions turn you into an awkward mess. 

"I don't recommend that." 

"So you don't like me back then?" 

"No! I love you but, I'm a mess how can you like me?" Mikey looks at the ground. 

"You're not fair. You haven't answered my question yet and already ask one."

"Huh?"

"Can I kiss you?" you repeat your question. 

"Yes." Mikey consents, barely above a whisper. 

Closing your eyes you pull him closer by his neck as your lips find his. Your tiredness leaving your body as your heart is set on fire. His lips are softer than you expected. 

"Now my question." he requests, forehead leaning against yours. 

"Mikey, you may be a mess but so am I. And I like the mess that you are." you laugh, heart still beating as crazy as ever. 

"My turn~ Can we kiss again?" 

"Yes please." Mikey nods before connecting his lips with yours again, both addicted to the taste of the other. Both of his arms around your hips while you're still sitting on his bike you really don't wanna get off the bike now. 

*15 minutes of making out on his bike later*

"Isn't this better than sleeping?" Mikey asks as your lips part, his hair a complete mess. 

"I could be making out in my dream with you as well, without having to leave my bed." you tease him, not wanting to go to bed and school. "We can cuddle in my bed."

Oh he loves that suggestion, so you sneak threw the door and cuddle up in your bed, not caring about what happens when you wake up. His arms wrapped around you in your warm bed is all you need think about.

Bonus:

"Huh?" you turn off your alarm, completely lost, only to notice the arms around you waist and Manjiro sleeping next to you. "Oh."

"(y/n)? Are you awake?" your mom asks as her steps get louder.

"Oh shit." you try to hide Mikey under the blanket and pillows.

"So you're awake, hurry or you'll be late for school." she leaves your room again. "Oh and tell Manjiro that he should hide his shoes next time he sneaks in."

"Fuck." you groan, waking up Mikey.

"Morning. What's up?"

" You're an idiot."

"But you said you love me."

"You're an idiot, that I love."

[chronically-ghosted]

First Base.

rating: 18+

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

word count: 5212

summary: you agree to his every precaution. he's not going to kill you, just bite you, a little bit. You hope a lot.

warnings/tags: making out, talking in bed while half-naked, max comes with his own warning, blood but only a lil, the discovery of a new vampire ability (this is so self indulgent), established friends with benefits situation but not a relationship, #pedrostories1k, @pedrostories

a/n: i've only got two parts written. lemme know if you'd like more!

Next | Series Masterlist

🤍 Masterlist 🤍 Get notified when I post new works!

The instant he heard the term, Max was obsessed. He’d whisper it in your ear in the hallways. He’d growl it into your throat as he split you open on his mattress, fingers wrapped like iron around your wrists – those were times he had to be especially careful. He’d leave notes addressed to you at your desk, or in the apartment kitchen, with it written across the top. He’d even occasionally put “my” before it. Hell, it was your name in his phone’s contacts. 

Monsterfucker. 

Monster. Fucker.

Monsterfucker. 

His little monsterfucker. 

My monsterfucker.

Does my monsterfucker like that?

You’re being so good for me, little monsterfucker. 

I’m gonna come on your chest now, you monsterfucker. 

Was it an unhealthy nickname that he said far too often around the office and dangerously close to your coworkers? Yes. Did you regret showing him that tweet and explaining what it meant? Absolutely not. Because you were. His. And a monsterfucker. 

Unfortunately, outside the truly staggering stamina he displayed, an occasional nip at the kitchen counter after a particularly long bout of mind-blowing sex, and a flash of a toe-curlingly long tongue he gave you only after you’d begged for it for hours at a time . . . Max was often more an annoying, smug fucker than a monster to fuck. Which is to say, the fangs rarely made an appearance. Only recently had he started leaving bags of blood in your apartment’s refrigerator and even those were wrapped up in special bags that prevented freezer burn, as if to say, nothing special here. He still wouldn’t eat in front of you, always more eager to pick up dinner and watch you eat, as if the memory of human food alone would satiate him. 

He resolutely hadn’t let his fangs out anywhere near the bedroom. 

And that monsterfucker in you was finally starting to be annoyed by it. You’d done everything you could think of, short of drawing a bullseye around your jugular vein. For being a vampire with enhanced peripheral senses, he really couldn’t quite take a hint.

“Max?”

“Hmm.” 

“Can I ask you for a favor?” 

“Sure, baby, what is it?”

“I want you to bite me during sex.” 

His fingers pause in their path along the curve of your waist, over the knots in your spine. You face away from him, having just woken up, and you hope that by posing this question so early in the morning and so bluntly, it might unsettle him enough to at least consider it. His hand hovers just above your ribs, before sliding forward into the soft skin between your bones, and he chuckles.

“No.”

You scowl and sit up, glaring down at him over your shoulder. Shit, maybe asking him first thing in the morning was a bad idea. Hair perfectly tousled in a deadly combination of post-sex and sleepy morning bedhead, Max grins up at you, his right arm tucked up behind his head, giving you a full display of his solid biceps and carved chest. You’d never seen him once lift anything heavier than a stapler. Well, except for the one time he picked up your couch with one hand because your earring had rolled underneath it. 

And whoever said vampires don’t sleep was only partially correct. Max didn’t sleep, he went unconscious. Trying to wake him up before he was ready was like trying to crack open a boulder with a rubber hammer. 

You twist your mouth down to perhaps look more serious than you actually are to hide your recklessly ogling. But the instant he sees your naked torso and your tits he is the one staring shamelessly. 

“Why not? We’ve been dating for almost a year now and you hardly even let me see your fangs, much less feel them.” 

“I bit you last week on the couch when we watched that one movie.” 

“You bit me to scare me and didn’t even break the skin.” 

Max’s eyebrow jumped. Arching slightly, he settles deeper into the pillows, a small smirk dripping across his lips. His hand skims up your knee, over your thigh, his intention very clear. 

“And you want me to break your skin, baby?” He purrs.

“Max, stop. I’m serious.” 

“What were we talking about?”

“Max!” You toss his hand off your thigh and he chuckles again, far too pleased with himself. With a big sigh, he stretches, long arms spearing through the slats in your headboard, toes curling under the sheets, before dropping his hands over his stomach, shivering. He reminded you so much of a cat sometimes, it was sinful. You wouldn’t be surprised if one day you blinked up at him and his eyes were yellow. 

The sheets are frightfully low on his slim hips.

“Baby, look, that kind of shit is dangerous. It’s not that I don’t want you to see that side of me – you’re welcome to look as much as you want –,” he lifts his hands as if to demonstrate his own personal work of art, “but it’s not a joke. It’s called bloodlust for a reason. I’ve worked hard to control it, it’s not always that simple.”

Softly, he drags his fingernails over your knee, more affectionate than sultry. 

“And despite my cool and aloof exterior, I would be pretty bummed if anything ever happened to you.” That easy, devil-may-care smile fades from his face and his wide palm flattens across your knee. When he looks up at you, his eyes are soft, concerned. You rarely get Max’s vulnerable side and when you do, it makes you immediately go gooey on the inside. “Especially if it was me who hurt you.”

You sigh and thread your fingers through his. “And that’s exactly my point, Max. I know you would never hurt me. This is about trust as much as it is about the . . . bloodlust, or whatever. I feel safe with you. Safe enough to try this.”

Together, the two of you had tried pretty much every other kink, toy, or play out there and to you, this was no different. Double penetration would take on a new meaning. You didn’t let yourself even consider triple. One thing at a time.

Max’s thumb rubs thoughtfully over the meat of your hand. “We’d have to work up to it, if we’re going to do this. Make sure I remain in control.”

Your heart picks up speed. “Yes, of course. Same rules as always.”

Max pouts. 

“But I’ve been wanting to change our safe word for a while now.” 

You bring your knotted hands up to your lips and gently kiss every one of his knuckles. “If we do this, you can pick our next safe word.” 

Quick as you can, you slip the nail of his thumb into your mouth and nip him just a bit. His eyes go dark.

“That’s cheating. You’re manipulating me.” 

“Just helping my case along. But what were you saying about working up to it?” You can tell he’s losing focus, that it’s only a matter of minutes before he pulls you into his lap, but this is when he’s most pliable. He had the manic attention span of a dog tempted with a squeaky toy. You kiss the back of his wrist. “Max, c’mon.”

“We’d have to start slow. I’m talking high school, baby leagues. Making out. Light petting, then maybe heavy petting.” 

You shift closer to him, breaking your hands apart as you put an arm over his chest to the other side of the mattress. Instinctively, his hand slides up your inner thigh. His gaze watches your breasts as they swing in movement. 

“Damnit Janet . . . but okay, then we’ll go through the bases.”

“Mhmm hmm . . .” 

You brush his hair back from his forehead and he puts both hands on your hips. You have seconds now. “So, we start with first, go up to second, which is under the clothes stuff. Then third. Oral. But that’s for both of us, right?”

His thumb traces your nipple. “Totally.”

“So that just leaves home plate, right, baby? That’s it then.”

You’ve got your hand around his cock and you stroke once. His mouth parts and his eyes flutter. “What’s it?”

You laugh out your nose.

“You’re impossible, Max Phillips.”

First Base.

“Is this entirely necessary?” 

“I’d prefer you in a snowsuit or nun’s habit, but this will have to do.” 

“At this point, I’ll take the Bugs Bunny onesie you wore for Halloween.” 

Max smirks, lighting the last candle in your bedroom. He shakes out the match until it smokes and he turns back to you. You’re pouting in the middle of the bed. 

“I’m gonna sweat my tits off in all of this.” 

As part of his rules, he made you put on thick woolen socks under your straight-legged jeans. In addition to a black bodysuit as the base, he told you to wear:

A long sleeved turtle neck

A sweatshirt

A jean jacket

And a scarf

His aim was to minimize any open and available skin except the bits you intended to use or for him to bite, but the scarf you refused. It was the middle of summer for god’s sake!

But in the end, he had agreed. He was going to bite you during sex so if you had to roll around naked in a giant bubble for two weeks to get to that, you were more than willing to forgo some comforts. In addition to all but wrapping you up in a burlap sack, Max also insisted on a few extra precautions. 

The first one being that a chain of silver is within reach, next to the bed. Max drained a bag of blood about thirty minutes ago so the hunger wasn’t all consuming. A box of Chips Ahoy cookies sat on your dresser for afterwards, along with a bottle of Gatorade, a brown bottle of disinfectant, a bag of cotton balls, and some bandaids. 

“Are we making out or am I donating blood?” you teased. 

But Max only shrugged. “A bit of both, actually.” 

He also laid out an enormous white towel on your bed. You’d offered to do this in his apartment, but he wanted you as comfortable as possible, to which you frowned.

“You weren’t anywhere near this nice to me when we did anal for the first time.”

He hadn’t even dignified that with a real response but just a swat on your ass. 

But, to your enormous surprise, Max Phillips was a romantic at heart. The candles were to set the mood. 

“Plus,” he says as he crawls onto the bed with you, “it’s very gothic, isn’t it?”

“What, porking by candlelight?” 

He rolls his eyes and swoops in to kiss you on the mouth. 

“No, you little slut. Biting you. Feeding on you. So very Dracula.” He playfully raises an eyebrow. 

“Like you ever once picked up the Bram Stoker novel.” You blink owlishly at him. “In fact, I didn’t know you could read.” 

He wrinkles his nose at you and pinches your cheek.

“Of course, I didn’t read it, but I did see the Coppola film strictly for Winona Ryder. What a babe.”

“Would you make her wear five layers of clothing in the dead heat of summer?” 

“Nah, I’d just eat her outright.” Max snaps his teeth just under your jaw. He is only playing, but it sends a shiver down your spine. He chuckles at your reaction. 

“It’s too easy, baby. Sometimes I think you only like me for my fangs.” 

You bite your lip in thought, as you lean forward, draping your arms over his shoulders. His hands cup your waist.

“Well, not only. The Jag’s a nice perk too.” 

You bend your head to kiss him again, but he draws back, his hand against your cheek, gently stopping you. His dark eyes are serious. In the candlelight, they look almost gold. Despite the almost stern expression, you see something else, but you so rarely see it on him, you aren’t sure you recognize it at all. Fear. Max is genuinely fearful he was going to hurt you. 

“What are the rules again?” 

“Use the silver if and only if you don’t stop when I use the safeword.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere as long as it touches your skin.” Your stomach knots. You know it would hurt him, burn him, and you can’t imagine doing that. But he wants you to have that kind of power over him.

“Keep going.” 

You huff, knowing exactly what he’s after, that verbal confirmation. That agreement on your end as much as his. 

“We’re only going to make out. No groping, licking, or grinding.” 

“That’s right, missy, and you better be home by nine.” 

You bend over and tug his ear lightly with your teeth. But that same sincere look is on his face when you settle back again. He taps your chin with his thumb, eyes watching your lips. 

“What else?”

“After you bite me, if I start to feel dizzy or lightheaded, I also say the safe word immediately. 

Max nods, his thumb moving to anxiously skim against your cheek. “I’ll be taking less than what you’d donate to any blood drive, but it might be faster than you’re used to, so I’m not sure how you’ll react.” 

His gaze searches your face as if you are about to crack and crumble under him. The mere suggestion that the boardroom-schmoozing, bad-boy-batman, bloodsucking bastard Max Phillips is this apprehensive over a little bite is almost mesmerizing to you. He’s never been one to handle you delicately and this is the first and only time you’ve seen him so ill-at-ease.

“Baby, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” You scratch your nails into his hair just above his neck, a place that usually has him oozing into relaxation, but not this time. 

He frowns.

“No, I want to. I really, really want to. It’s just . . .” He swallows, further separating you from him and only letting his hands touch your knees. He seems to be on the verge of something and he can’t quite look you in the eyes. “It’s just . . . it can be harder to control it, for a vampire, when they have a connection with the person they’re feeding from.”

You huff. “Max, of course, we have a connection. You’re my boyfriend. We’ve been dating for months now and –,”

“An emotional connection.” If he could blush properly, he would. “A deep emotional connection.”

“Oh.” 

Is he really saying what you think he’s saying? And he’s telling you now? 

Sometimes it’s rather shocking. That an immortal creature of the night can have the emotional intelligence of a six year old. 

With a gentle sigh, you inch towards him and hitch your leg across his thighs. His eyes widen momentarily before you sit down on his lap. You card your fingers through his hair. His hands hover just over your hips. 

“Do you trust me?” 

He nods without hesitation.

“Well, I trust you too. Quite literally with my life. This is just the first step, Max. But it can be the only step if it’s too much. I won’t bring it up ever again, I promise. You’re not alone in this.”

It’s like your words are a balm to a sunburn. He nods again, closing his eyes. 

He goes up to your neck with his hand, but waits for you to initiate. Your heart threatening your throat with swelling emotion, you fold over him and gently, with care, press your lips to his. 

The hand at your neck pulls you in closer and you turn your head to deepen the kiss. 

It stays like that for a minute. Your hands just resting on his shoulders, his fingers cradling the back of your head, and the other hand sitting contently on your knee. The kisses are almost innocent in their sweetness, curious, as if you’ve really never touched each other before. They smack of puppy love and cotton candy and necking under the bleachers. They’re lettermen jackets and prom-posals. Carving names in trees and promising forever with cheap rings in the shape of hearts and hands. 

But sweet is not what you came here for. 

At the first nip of your teeth, his mouth parts instantly, and all but sucks your tongue against his. You take him in long, rich, wet swipes, tasting the heat gathered in the cup of his mouth, in the muscle of his tongue. You think you taste the faintest hint of copper and you do your best not to shiver under his palms. You remind yourself to not let your tongue go searching for sharper things.

Your hips hitch forward and down, off your knees and into his lap. You’re already warm and despite the layers, you know he can feel it. He groans, air rushing out his nose, the hand in your hair tightens down, and his arm curls up against your lower back to pull you even closer. Your fingers knot into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp just the way you know he likes, your heart already pounding, your thighs clutching his waist. He claws at your back, pressing you harder against him, but beneath the layers, you can barely feel his touch. You whine at the growing heat between your legs and the lack of sensation. You have to feel him. 

With a tug, you jerk off the denim jacket, sweat already sprouting against the valley of your spine. He whines, this time a sound of protest. 

“Baby, don’t–,” he pants, your mouth inches from his. He claws at you and the jacket, needing you nearer and distant all at the same time. “It’s for your own good–,” 

“Just one layer. Please, I’m burning up,” you beg. He relents, letting out a breathless frustrated noise. You hurl the jacket off your arm and onto the floor.

He lifts you both then, hands digging into the back of your thighs, your hands going to his collar to keep the seam of your chests pressed together, and he turns to bury you in the mattress. Despite the countless times you’ve been in this exact position, it somehow manages to feel like the first time you made out with him. That same frantic heat, that buzzing energy, that need to touch and explore but not wasting a second to linger. A pulsing warmth swells between your legs and your hips jerk up a fraction of an inch, but they keep from making contact with the seam of his jeans. He’d never do this again if you broke his rules. 

Showing him where you want him to go, you nip his earlobe as he pries your thighs apart with his hands around the back of your knees, out of habit more than anything. You suck down on the back of his jaw, the smell of his hair and aftershave scratching against the rough of your insides to burn you a little bit hotter. Your teeth worry his skin just to the right of the knot in his throat and he jerks, moaning. He shifts his weight down, his pelvis tilting into the cradle of your hips and you eagerly receive him. You’ll go as far as he’ll willingly allow, but you want him to know this isn’t all on him.

“Color?” You tear your mouth away from his, hands nestled around the backs of his ears, you push back to look him in the eye. 

He answers you a second before he lunges in to kiss you again. “Green.” 

“You wanna keep going?” Don’t grind, don’t grind, don’t grind. 

He nods, eyes closing for a second. “‘m okay, I’m okay. Put your hands up my shirt.”

You blink up at him, chest still heaving. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” So you do. You rub your palms up under the lip of his shirt, smoothing them against his sides, his chest, his stomach, which tenses as if your hands are cold. With a gasp, he drops his head into the curve of your shoulder, his breath hot, almost burning. You wonder if his fangs are out. He shifts, pressing up against your chest, deeper into your neck, rocking his hips once, and he sucks on that soft place beneath your earlobe, making you keen.

“Can I see them?” You blurt out. “B-before–,” your voice catches and you swallow the desire in your throat. “Before you bite me.” 

Max’s shoulders still. You’re both breathing heavily and you stare up at your ceiling, afraid to meet his horrified face. Maybe you’d gone too far. Asking to be bitten was one thing, but maybe he didn’t want you to actually watch when he –

“Really?”

He peels back from you, his elbows locked out on either side of your head. He meets your gaze with trepidation and . . . awe.

You nod frantically. “Yes. Yes, please. I even want to–,”

He’s staring at your mouth like if he thinks hard enough, exactly what he wants to hear will come out. 

“You wanna what?” His voice is deeper than gravel, lower than the graves of the earth.

“I want to touch them, Max.” You’ve never felt more exposed beneath him as he stares down at you. His hair is mussed, as if as shocked as he is. 

You think his jaw drops in surprise, but in the glint of the candlelight, you see them shine. White, glistening fangs. Slowly, he parts his mouth even more, jaw opening, and his upper lip raises a quarter of a fraction of an inch. 

In the far back of your mind, in your undeveloped lizard brain, the thing that squeezes out primal, dripping fear when confronted with things unknown, it’s pumping adrenaline. It’s working overtime. It’s going to catch fire. It’s screaming, begging, sobbing at you to run. To run fast and as far as you can because this? This thing that has you pinned beneath him – is a predator. It’s an apex monster at the top of the food chain, a precise killing machine designed specifically to prey upon your weaknesses. You can feel your muscles tighten, adrenaline roaring in your veins, you actually see his face better in the dark light as your pupils dilate, every fight-or-flight instinct you’ve ever possessed knotting together in a snarling, hissing, petrified void, all saying one thing:

Run, you idiot, run. Run. Run! 

But you don’t. You can’t. 

When you first discovered that Max was a vampire you asked him if he’d ever hypnotized you and he said no. And then you made him swear on point of stake that he would never, ever do that to you. 

You wondered vaguely if now he had broken his promise. Because you cannot look away. 

You exhale shakily, blinking up to his glistening wet mouth. With a trembling hand, you reach for his cheek, sliding it along his jaw, over the top of his upper lip, and then down. Down a single white fang, an obscene mockery of your own canine teeth. You’re surprised to find it smooth, just as hard as any of your own teeth, but you continue your thumb down to the very point of it. 

“Careful–,” he warns, the sound garbled, and a second too late. 

You prick your thumb on the razor edge of his fang. He shudders, head dropping between his shoulders. 

Wide-eyed and mortified, you immediately suck your thumb into your mouth at the first well of blood. 

“Max, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t thinking! I–”

“No,” he says gently, but his voice is hoarse. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

He lifts his head, eyes unreadable, but the candlelight brings color back to them, as if they had been consumed by shadow. “It’s okay.” Gently, he wraps his fingers around your wrist, easing your thumb out of your mouth. Watching you for any hint of rejection or fear, Max guides your thumb, wet with your spit and a dribble of blood, between his lips, between his fangs, and smears his tongue across the wound. He tries to maintain eye contact, but he groans, eyes fluttering, his hips swinging down. The noise he makes sends static directly into the pit of your stomach like a hot flare. You can’t fight it; you clench down on nothing. 

Holy fuck, maybe this was a bad idea. 

“Max,” you whine softly. He hums around your thumb, tongue lapping at the tip, eyes still closed as though he was drunk and trying to get the room to stop spinning. Finally, he parts his lips and removes your finger from his mouth. You can feel his rock-solid erection pressing into your pelvis. 

He breathes, slowly, as though he was focusing on every molecule of air entering and leaving his lungs. Finally, Max lifts his eyes to you again and, again, you feel that white hot spark down between your legs. His fingers around your wrist loosen, thumb and forefinger catching around the cuff of your sleeve and slowly push it down. 

“Color?” He husks, his breath coasting over your exposed wrist.

“G-green,” you stutter out. You know it can’t be helping him but your heart is pounding, rushing, vibrating behind the thick wall of your sternum. That same adrenaline that told you to run before has now locked you flat on your back, a different kind of instinct taking over. Your thighs ache to drop open around him. Take me take me take me.

He lowers his head to your blue, pulsating vein and lets the skin rub against his smooth incisor. Your back arches just off the mattress as if he’s fucking you with his tongue. 

“Is it going to hurt?” 

He’s not looking at you now, every sense within him entirely anchored to your wrist. But he shakes his head steadily, as if staving off sleep.

“I won’t let it.” 

A prick. Nothing more. Nothing more hideous or crude than a shot in the arm. And yet you know it’s deeper, closer to bone, through flesh and sinewy muscle, into the deep thready vein. You know it’s deeper because a red ribbon of blood trickles down the flesh of your forearm. You watch it with fascination, your vision going a bit blurry as a sense of peace and ease rises up and greets you. You’re not lightheaded, but there is an ease, a delight, as if something had dulled your senses to the world. Your face breaks into a smile, even though you don’t feel your cheeks moving. 

His licks are gentle, curious, tongue a little cold against your flesh. With your other hand, you stroke his neck, then tangle with his hair. You scratch him like you would the family dog.

“Good boy, Max, you’re such a good boy.” 

And then the noise that’s been hovering at the edge of your awareness ratchets so loud you can’t ignore it any more. A buzzing, a humming, as though a thousand heartbeats were all racing in sync with one another. You don’t know where it’s coming from or what it is, but you don’t mind it – it’s soothing, sweet, peaceful. You ease your hand from his hair, back down his neck, to the knot of his spine and –

“Max, are you purring?” It’s undeniable. His entire chest is vibrating as if powered by a jet engine. 

He muffles a response into your wrist, tongue more forcefully pressing into your skin. 

“Oh my god, you are! Vampires purr?” You giggle. “If we do nothing else, figuring out you’re capable of purring has been entirely worth it.” 

Again a muffled grunt. Your heart beat skips for a moment – what if he doesn’t stop – and then another pinch and you hear the faint chunk of his fangs retracting. The humming from his chest softens, quiets smoothly, fading to silence, as he wipes his mouth on the back of his sleeve. You giggle louder, that pleasant, sweet feeling still cradling you like a cloud, as he sits up from the bed. 

“Okay, now I’m kind of offended you never purred when I sucked your dick. Or that time I put on that strap-on! Or –,”

“Quiet you,” he grumbles with a bit of a smirk as he kneels down beside the bed and using the white towel beneath you, he wipes your wrist clean. Then, with his head hung down, he swipes his thumb against his mouth again. 

“What are you–,”

The pad of his thumb bright red, he gently brushes his blood over the two pin-prick holes and, to your utter shock, the skin knits itself together. You watch, transfixed, as any evidence that he ever bit you slowly disappears. With the wounds sealed and gone, Max presses a kiss to your wrist. He stands up and goes to pour the disinfectant on your dresser into one of the cotton balls. You sit up and you emerge instantly from that cloud of serenity. You’re clear headed and awake, that adrenaline rush gone. You rub your wrist, the dried blood making the skin there tacky and sticky. 

“That was . . .” You swallow. You know you didn’t orgasm but you still feel that lingering pleasantness, that almost syrup-y haze. 

“How are you feeling?” Max asks over his shoulder, his frown serious. He sits back on the bed and gently takes your wrist from your fingers. His gaze keeps flickering from the dried blood to your face as he cleans your wrist and forearm. “Any pain? Dizziness? Nausea? Do you want to eat something – or drink –,”

“Max.” His mouth snaps shut, his brown eyes open and pleading and concerned. Something dislodges from your chest and pricks your eyes. This is only the first step in getting to what you really want, but you feel infinitely closer to him, like you’ve peeled back a layer and found something as warm and as comforting as sunshine. “Max, honey, that was perfect.”

You all but fall into him, your hand tugging on his collar to bring him into your atmosphere, your orbit, and you kiss him with fervent urgency. He groans in relief, in surprise, his hand cradling your jaw. You pull back, actually a little dizzy, but you’re quite sure that has nothing to do with blood loss. 

“Yeah?” he murmurs against your lips and you nod before kissing him again. He smiles, his thumb petting your cheek as if to calm you. “Good. That’s really good, baby. You did so well.” 

You scoff. “I don’t think I’ve ever been less of a participant in something so sexual.”

His eyebrow arches. “You got off on that?”

“Fair question. I guess you have to ask . . . since I wasn’t the one literally purring with delight!”

He rolls his eyes, huffing. “That’s actually the reason I didn’t want to do this. You’re never going to let this down.” 

You pout at him, tilting your head. “Aw, poor pussy.” 

He plucks a kiss from your cheek and snags the cookie box from your dresser. You realize how starving you are and you nearly tear open the box.

“So you’re really good, with everything?” 

You nod, waiting until another time to ask him about that rather orgasmic haze you found yourself in. 

He bites his lip as he watches you lick chocolate from your bottom lip.

“Then it’s off to second base we go.” 

Next | Series Masterlist

[iamacolor]

I've seen such good things about my sweet mobster I'm excited to watch mainly because it's two underrated very talented actors and the premise of ex cons and how society treats them is so interesting. One thing I want to know is how is the romance? I don't particularly enjoy ships where one half is way more in love than the other and it's just one party doing all the work ( as in taking care of the other person, putting their needs first, saving them etc) if it's not a two way street and it's equal then it irks me so my otp taste is more one spring night/ healer/ hometown Cha Cha where it's I will do anything for you from both of them rather than just one of them and it's 99% the guy like samdari marry my husband and perfect marriage revenge and this is definitely giving me those vibes from the comments and I want to be ready 🤔🤔

hi anon! I haven't watched today's episode yet but from what we've seen so far in the show I think you'd like it! my sweet mobster's dynamic is more "he falls first" than "he's the only one who's devoted" - she's a content creator so he watches all her videos on youtube while she's still trying to figure out if he's nice or not lol they really don't meet in the best of circumstances tbh so it takes her a little bit of time before she feels at ease (there's a really fun scene where she visits him at the hospital and circumstances put them veryyy close to each other and he's all flustered when she leaves while she's like what just happened) but it still happens pretty fast despite some people around her being like "girl, he's literally a criminal" and she's like "well I feel good about him so who cares". it's fun to see how he does get flustered by her and her words despite being this cool and composed person who's even a threat to some while she likes to tease him

(the rest of this is going to be more spoilery)

the male lead is very protective of the female lead (and he's also the "I'm not worthy of her I'm too dangerous and dark for her" type so he's also torn over how to protect her from himself and his world) and there are a few times where he "saves" her and he's very knight-like but I see him more as a provider since he offers one of his rooms to her when she loses her place - and when that happens she insists she has to give him something in return and so she agrees to teach classes for his company/gang's members. in various situations she's very determined to help out and he's very determined to please her lol

one of the times when he saves her is because they both get stuck in a fridge closet and she has to go to the hospital, he's stuck to her bedside until she wakes up and almost as soon as she does she insists he also has to rest and take care of himself which I loved!! that felt very grown up and she literally forces him to sleep in her own hospital bed and she takes the spare bed, she's very curious about him (they're both quite fascinated by each other tbh) and asks him questions, she can see he's not used to taking care of himself and she's like "not on my watch" - he disappears at some point and she refuses to be left behind in the search and when he's arrested she's sooo anxious and worried she's literally crying in the parking lot

the funniest thing is that once they start living together they're very quickly in a situation where the people around them know there's something between them but it's not really addressed lol she's literally called "sister in law" by his gang members but none of them correct anyone??

also, random detail but she has been looking for her long lost childhood friend for years...........

[xatsperesso]

Ok I'm re-thinking about the Wicked Phase of the teachers and...

More about Orias

So he has two kind of Wicked Phase, because why it should be always the same?

If he was tired and grumpy before the start of his WP, having spending the night to play game and not sleep, then he’ll be in a very grumpy and tired WP. Gonna be feral if people bother him. He wants to be left alone. He wants peace and silence.

So he's staying in his room to sleep or play more games and he's literally hissing at Robin when he’ll come to force him to eat because sunshine Robin is too noisy. He’ll be a freaking gremlins, going out of his room to steal snacks and glare at people telling him “hey buddy, not snacks” or use his ability to have what he want before returning in his room.

Something he just eat the snack, looking/glaring right in the eyes of the guy who told him "hey not before dinner"

Feral Gremlin XD

Like

Robin, using a flashlight to look under mound of blankets on the bed: Orias? are you ready to come out? I know that it's our day off but but it's noon and you need to go out of the bed and eat. Orias: [FERAL HISSING] Robin: …understandable, have a nice day. Robin: gets slowly out of the room Robin: close the door Robin, to the others teachers: guys I think that he's into his wicked phase.

And when Orias is not in a bad mood/tired before entering his wicked phase, he has another kind of WP: he's more playful. and i love the idea to him acting like FurFur (in a softer level). He's cheating, stealing money to his co-workers, playing tricks but compared to FurFur (who tricked kids) he only tricks his co-workers, not the students.

Well maybe because he can’t go out of the teachers dorm when he’s into his WP XD

He's a little shit, he does joke to his coworkers. EVEN Kalego. He's brutally honest. He does dark humor.

if he want to flirt, he'll do it aggressively (well that's a demon, right?)

He can appear suddenly behind a coworker in the dark to surprise them. They don't try to lock his door, because he can unlock it easily. They have to use magic to lock THEIR door.

If he fights, he'll fight dirty. Everything will be good to win a dual.

Surprisingly even in the WP, he still does his paperworks/corrects the students works.

We love us some feral orias

But I've seen some post about WP and i want to chip in

I think what a wicked phase does is just makes the demon act more on there impulsive thoughts, or more like become the person they want to be

Like that demon who was going to eat a student. He probably has a lot of impulsive/ intrusive thoughts, so in the WP he just acted on them

And if the person has yet to figure themselves out/still developing there personalities like teenagers (could be adults too. Just anyone who wishes they were more x) , there WP version will be the person they wish to be.

For example iruma is shy and irumean is a more confident version of him

Azz is kinda rigid. He always seemed to me like he's keeping a lot of things in, whether it is to keep people out or to maintain a good reputation, so when in WP he just let's loose.

But if someone has figured put who they are and are comfortable with their character, like sabro seems to be, then the WP will amplify their personality. Remove the restrictions put on them because they're out of the house.

Or in Sabro's position it allows him to overcome the unconscious limitations on his fighting ability and allows him to fight atori all out

So i think WP could change as someone's personality, wishes and thoughts change

I hope i got my point across

[annwayne]

The Red Logs: Return to the Temple Ch. 16

Chapter 16: Disembark

Last Chapter <- -> Next Chapter

Fem!OC X Crosshair

Word Count: 3235

Fic Summary:

There are benefits to owning a clone bar. Underworld lords don’t threaten you to pay for protection. Clones are great company. And the drinks taste great. However, there are also risks to owning a clone bar. Like, for example, becoming the fuck buddy of a special clone task force member so your life gets threatened when a Separatist puts out a bounty for your capture in order to use you as blackmail. Also your sleep schedule gets wrecked. But Anya Tougt is a little more capable than an average bar owner.

Ao3 Link Here

Warnings apply to whole fic:

Canon typical violence, descriptions of panic attacks, alcohol, swearing, 18+ themes (eventual smut), trauma, religious trauma parallels, mild gore

Authors Note:

I am thrilled to get this chapter out. I've written all but the final chapter of this fic and I'm just so excited to see what everyone following this story thinks of the progression. :> Also some nice little self indulgent moments because why not >:3c

25 BBY. Master Tali’s words linger in my mind. Jedi have always enforced peace throughout the galaxy–what difference was this? Our presence alone changes other’s behaviors. Few dare upset a Jedi. But those few are growing, from the sound of it.

I laid on my stiff bed wearing only a towel and covered my eyes from the bright white lights of the room with my arms. Everything felt sore, which meant everything would feel worse tomorrow morning. My body was paying for those years without exercise. Luckily tonight marked the last night aboard the Negotiator. One more night in a stiff bed and thin sheets. Just one more night till I was home.

With a groan, I sat up. My eyes took a moment to adjust to the light, then landed on the chrono sitting across from me. Another sigh and I stood. It was nearly tomorrow, so if I wanted any sleep I needed to get moving. I threw the towel onto a piece of metal that jutted out just slightly more than the rest of the wall then turned to my duffle for pjs. As I pulled on a pair of underwear, knocking came from my door.

“Annie, it’s Tech, may I come in?”

“Just a-”

Despite my response, the door swished open and Tech stepped through the threshold, though he was looking behind himself and did not immediately see my half-naked state. “We need to talk-” He froze, finally looking up to see my exposed body.

“No please Tech, come in.” I muttered as I quickly threw on a nightshirt.

As soon as he realized his blunder, the clone turned his head away from me and tensed his shoulders. “I apologize, I did not want anyone to see me enter your quarters.” The tips of his ears had turned a shade redder than the rest of his face.

As awkward I felt with the interaction, Tech didn’t strike me as the kind of clone to try and sneak a look–something I had learned how to spot in the men that made up the GAR. I sighed, waving it off. “It’s fine, just don’t do it again.” Tech slowly raised his head, eyes darting side to side before landing on me once again. “Besides, I’ve been wanting to talk to you as well.”

“You have?” Tech stepped forward, all previous hesitation now forgotten.

I nodded my head as I sat down. “We haven’t had a chance to talk alone since the escape pod.” Tech sat on the edge of the bed across from me as I spoke. “And considering you volunteered me to be Clone Force 99’s resident force user, well I have some thoughts.” Our eyes met, both stern and stubborn.

“While I may have been… enthusiastic,” Tech’s eyes fell, shifting like he was choosing words from a catalog. “My prediction was correct. You chose to become a civilian consultant, I simply prepared.”

“Yes Tech, you were right.” I rubbed my eyes, trying to hold back the annoyance in my voice. “But what would have happened if you were wrong? If I went back to my bar on Coruscant and never went on another mission with the Bad Batch? Never touched my lightsabers or Jedi robes again?”

Across from me, the clone stared down at his hands with furrowed brows. “I understand your concern, Annie, however I knew that wouldn’t happen.”

There was a twitch in my jaw at his absolute confidence. “How? I didn’t even know if I was going to fill out those forms.” A moment passed, Tech still watching his hands while I watched him. Long enough passed that I opened my mouth, ready to continue without Tech’s input.

“Crosshair.”

Tech spoke just before I could, leaving me with an open mouth and missing words. A crease grew between my brows as I closed my mouth, then opened it again like a resetting console. “What do you mean Crosshair?”

Tech raised his head, meeting my eye once again. “I mean Crosshair is how I knew what you would decide.” After no change from the look I gave him, he continued. “You’ve now seen what we face, and knowing that your presence on this mission saved mine and Wrecker’s lives, you could not forgive yourself if something happened to Crosshair after you refused to come on missions with us.”

I stared back at him, dumbfounded and feeling more vulnerable than when he walked in on me changing. Of course I was worried about Crosshair, I had always been worried about him but this didn’t change that.

“And for that reason, I cannot allow you to continue to lie to Crosshair, or anyone else in my squad.”

“Wait, Tech, what?”

“This is what I wanted to speak to you about, Annie.” Tech stood pacing the short width of my quarters. “Not only are you putting the cohesion of this team at risk, but you will also hurt my brothers. They will see your keeping this secret an issue of trusting them, rather than your own insecurity.”

A crack of a laugh escaped my lips. “Insecurity? Tech, any insecurities I have, they aren’t related to this.”

“Aren’t they?” Tech adjusted his goggles, the light’s reflection obscuring his eyes from view for a moment. “Why were you so adamant about keeping your identity as a Jedi secret from clones? From my brother?”

“Because that’s not me anymore. No one needs to know about it.” My words spilled like sand.

“You fear others knowing about this aspect of you Anya, this is directly related to your insecurity.” Tech’s words landed like boulders.

“Get out.”

Tech remained where he stood. “Not until I know you will stop this, that you will tell Crosshair.”

I stepped off the bed, standing at its side and pointed towards the door. “Don’t make me do it for you.”

A dark eyebrow raised slowly, debating the likelihood I wasn’t bluffing perhaps. “If you do not tell him, I will.”

Neither of us moved. We stood across from each other in a tiny CO’s room, Tech puffed up and determined, myself glaring and doubting. Doubting his resolve. Doubting my guts. The chrono’s red light bled pink as it touched the brilliant white ceiling lights. Only the humm of Hyperspace and occasional creaks of the ship spoke for us.

“Not tonight.”

The Negotiator groaned as it descended through the atmosphere. Three days passed in what felt like a manner of minutes. Obi-Wan stood at the helm, arms crossed with a focused crease between his brows. Beside him stood Admiral Yularenal, a man I had only seen maybe two times this whole trip. Cody stood beside some control panels, watching clones input directions at his command. Flying a ship this huge took way more people than running a bar, but the latter was much more interesting so I left for my quarters.

In my room I began packing. Not that there was much to pack. But it was something to do that distracted me.

Distracted me.

”You aren’t made for war.”

His words were ghosts, and I was their decaying house. Obi-Wan and I had not spoken since our interaction in his quarters. A fact that only made the impending council meeting more dreadful. What would he say? My chest pounded as I stuffed blacks and some spare armor into my duffel. I hissed at the thoughts. “No one’s made for war!”

“We are.”

I jumped, turning to see Crosshair stepping into the room, with Tech’s scowl close behind.

Before I could get a word in, Tech hesitantly stepped through the door’s threshold, eyes darting across the room as he did so. “No wait, Crosshair you shouldn’t! Annie.” His quick change from scolding to greeting gave me whiplash. “We knocked.” Tech gave an anxious look as he stood beside his brother.

“You didn’t seem to hear us. So I tried the door.” Crosshair explained. His previous words went without further notice, even with my helmet locked on him. Then, to make a crowded room packed, Hunter and Wrecker joined us.

“Which is a breach of privacy, Crosshair.” Tech frowned at the sniper, who barely shrugged. My head turned to look at each clone, spending a second longer on Tech, studying the limited face I could see under his goggles. Our last conversation crawled up my neck.

“There’s a lock if she wants privacy.”

Tech huffed, but did not push the issue further.

“What are you all doing here?” I asked, taking advantage of the lull between the brothers. Then threw my duffle over my shoulder.

“We came to take you to the general, and also,” Wrecker rubbed the back of his head. “Well we wanted to say goodbye.”

Wrecker’s shyness broke the wall Tech’s conversation built last night. “And does everyone who works with you get a farewell like this, or am I just special?” The grin on my face audible through my voice.

Wrecker laughed. “It’s not everyday a Jedi gets assigned to us!”

“Partially,” Tech corrected his brother, only for creases to appear around the bridge of his goggles. “A better description would be ‘on loan.’” Brown eyes flicked up to my bucket.

I folded my arms. “Well, I appreciate the enthusiasm. I look forward to future missions with this squad.” Tech’s chin lifted at my words.

“You’ll never be bored with us, that’s for sure!” Wrecker beamed, patting Tech’s back hard enough the clone temporarily lost balance. This started a loud conversation between the two about spines.

Hunter took the distraction as an opportunity to step forward. “Annie, Thanks.” He spoke softly. “Regs rarely try to get along with us and Jedi mostly ignore us. It was nice working with someone who…” His dark eyes searched for the correct words.

“Respects us.” Crosshair finished Hunter’s sentence.

A feeling I couldn’t name puffed up my chest. “You’re brilliant soldiers.” Tech and Wrecker quieted down. “I should be thanking you. Without your help, there’d still be a bounty on my head.”

The clones beamed at the compliments, each of them expressing their pride at a mission well done. Something I felt they rarely shared with outsiders.

“We should get going, the ship’s just landed.” Hunter turned, gesturing for the other clones to follow him. Crosshair and Wrecker did. Tech moved towards me.

“Annie, before you go.” Tech pulled out his datapad. “I’ve added my information to your contacts list so we may communicate through less official means.” He showed me his profile which featured a blurry photo of him and what I thought was a tiny Wrecker in front of a giant explosion. He lingered, holding the data pad to his chest. Finally he spoke, “Also… I wish to apologize.” He said in a lower voice. “I upset you. That was not my goal.”

A long breath escaped me. “Just give me some time, Tech.”

“Promise me that you will tell him before our next mission together.”

“Tech I-”

The look he gave me under his goggles stopped my protests. Instead I rolled my head, like the words needed to fall out of my mouth. “Promise.” Needles grew in my chest.

Satisfied, Tech nodded his head once in confirmation and then left me alone to finish packing. I took a final look around the quarters. This place served me well for a few days. But now, I looked forward to going home.

Clone Force 99 and I made our way down the star destroyer to the loading bay. Tech peeled away from our group early on to fly the Marauder out of the Negotiator. Clones bustled about performing various duties to keep the ship running smoothly.

As we exited the massive ramp to Coruscant ground, several different ships flew in and out of the destroyer. Tech beat us to the ground, and stood by the now parked Marauder with a satisfied grin. With a final wave goodbye, I headed towards the lone Jedi watching various supplies and clones come and go from his ship.

“Kenobi.” I gave him a curt greeting.

The general nodded at me. “Annie, I trust you are ready for our report?”

What bantha crap.

“Ready as ever.”

“Obi-Wan, Anya, good to see you both back in one piece.” Mace Windu greeted us within the confines of the Jedi council room. Today, unlike the last time I stood in this room, only Mace and Yoda were present. Apparently this debriefing didn’t need the whole of the Jedi council.

“Yes, it is good to be back.” Obi-Wan answered. His voice was steady, but I could feel an air of weariness surrounding the Jedi master.

Yoda looked to me, likely expecting a reply. Or maybe he was just feeling out my emotions. “Clone armor, you wear?” He finally spoke, lifting his wooden cane to my helmet.

I straightened up. The armor had become a second skin, I completely forgot I still had it on. That must have been interesting to see. “Yes.”

“The bounty hunters assumed Anya was on Coruscant since she was last seen here.” Kenobi chimed in, adding to my minimalist explanation. “Keeping her face covered ensured we did not run into bounty hunters while searching for her bounty’s sponsor.”

Yoda and Windu nodded their heads.

“And why did you go investigating Obi-Wan? Why did you take Anya with you when you understood the potential danger?” Mace asked.

This felt less like a debriefing and more like an interrogation.

“I believed that if the mystery behind Anya’s bounty was to be solved, she needed to be involved. Only Anya could understand things from her own life, after all.”

“Solve the mystery, did you?”

“Yes.”

Here it goes. How would the council react to a former Jedi having relations with a clone? Let alone this clone? My gut twisted.

“It was me. I was the reason that Anya was targeted.”

I couldn’t help but quickly glance towards Obi-Wan at the fib.

He continued. “Miyaeli Vekek discovered information that connected Anya and myself. Our missions together back when she was Tali’s padawan, for example.” I kept my chin up as thoughts of our last interaction filled my mind. Such an argument, and yet, he was still covering for me. “Because of this Vekek thought she could use Anya to blackmail me into spying for the Separatists. For obvious reasons, she was the only separatist commander to think this way.” Either Kenobi knew the order would not react well to the truth, or he didn’t know and didn’t want to find out.

Mace exchanged glances with Yoda, but they said nothing while Obi-Wan recounted a very different story than the one we lived. There was no mention of my relationship with Crosshair, of my desire to keep my identity a secret from the clones, and especially nothing about my life draining ability we had discovered on that ruined moon. Eventually we got to the part when he stayed on the Negotiator and I stayed with The Bad Batch.

“I asked to stay with the clones.” It was my turn to tell a story, though this one was more familiar. “Considering the stakes I wanted to be involved. While I may be a little rusty, I was still trained in the ways of the Jedi and had been in combat before.” Yoda nodded his head–something he was doing a lot. Mace stayed quiet, with a hand on his chin.

“So we parted ways and I completed our mission with Clone Force 99.”

“And you killed Vekek?” Mace held his arms, and used the one previously holding his chin to gesture towards me.

My jaw tensed. “Yes. An explosion separated myself, Tech, and Vekek from the others. Vekek got free, likely from the impact damaging her binders, and was strangling Tech when I came to. I was severely injured and my thinking was limited.” Windu furrowed his brows. “So I did what I needed to do.”

“Kill Vekek?” Yoda tilted his head.

Irritation boiled beneath my stomach. If they thought they were clever, that I wouldn’t notice their suspicions–of course not. This was Yoda and Mace Windu. They knew exactly what they were doing and wanted a reaction from me. I was the fool for thinking anything within the order had changed.

“Save Tech.” Finally, I answered, the edge in my voice not lost on the Jedi masters standing around me.

Yoda and Mace exchanged glances before turning their attention back to me. I took the opportunity to glance at Obi-Wan. His expression was stone.

“One last question, we have. Then go, you may.” Yoda broke the silence.

“As we understand it, Anya, you applied to be a civilian soldier to work alongside Clone Force 99?”

That was an interesting choice of words. “Yes.”

“Why?” Yoda asked the final question.

For once in my life, standing in the center of that cursed room, I stood tall and lifted my head in response. “I’m not a Jedi, not any more, but I have strength and power that could help the galaxy. Offering my assistance to a squad of clones that the Republic sends on death missions seems like a good fit for what I can do.” Not to mention my possible death would do nothing to the war effort. But no one would acknowledge that outloud. “If they want it, I’m ready to help them with the full extent of my abilities.”

Once I finished a sense of certainty fell over me. I would use my lightsaber and robes again. I would go on missions with Clone Force 99. I would be a soldier in this terrible war.

Robes shifted beside me, but Yoda and Mace seemed satisfied. They dismissed us, giving me a farewell. The restraint in their goodbye’s told me they did not think this was the last time they would see me–in what circumstances, I could not tell. As we stepped out of the council room and entered the lift, I looked at Obi-Wan.

“You…” No. “That was unexpected.”

He glanced at me. “Do you think so little of me, Annie?”

After a long pause I answered. “What I think of you changes with every interaction, Obi-Wan.”

Blue eyes fell. “We share more similarities than you think.”

I almost laughed, but this wasn’t the time. “That’s hard to believe.” Coruscant’s surface grew closer as the lift plummeted. “You’re a Jedi Master and have a seat on the council. That’s as different from me as you can get.”

“I’m not talking about our status.” His voice was calm, but heavy. “We might have made different choices, but our hearts have something in common.”

My mind rushed back to the Marauder, after our first mission when Kenobi agreed to let me stay with the clones and find my bounty’s sponsor. “You don’t mean Satine?” He only gave in when he figured out Crosshair was my… whatever Crosshair is.

He answered by meeting my helmet’s visor. “Like I said, we made different choices.”

She wasn’t just another fling? The lift came to a stop, but I was glued in place. The Jedi beside me also stood still. Coruscant’s loud symphony called to us through the open lift doors. There was more to say, but neither of us could muster the strength to say it.

“Good luck, Anya.” Kenobi broke the silence and stepped out.

“You too, Obi-Wan.”

Authors end chapter notes:

Well well well, isn't this an interesting development.. Anya's only context for any of Obi-Wan's romantic and/or sexual relationships in the past had all been flings... But now Obi-Wan's alluding that Satine was more. Crosshair is endgame, but do any of you ship her with Tech? They certainly have some good moments together.

Dividers by Djarrex   

Tag list: @midnight-sun-0

[honestlyno]

Notebook 2

I am human. I am prone to strong emotions. I can feel hurt, anger, sadness just as well as happiness, joy and love. I feel frustration, grief and sorrow. I laugh and i cry.

Those, i believe, are the things that define my humanity. I don't usually feel strong emotions and it takes me days to figure out what i feel. It takes even more to talk about it and assimilate it. That's precisely why i come off as cold and emotionless in situations requiring a strong outside showcase of one's emotions at right the correct moment.

That's a flaw of mine that i perceive clearly, thanks to my given human mind, one that's able to successfully accumulate information. I proud myself too much thanks to the ability to perceive information accurately. At least that's what i spend the last few years thinking about. Then i got to discover the rest of the world i was born in and have lived in for the most of my life. (We don't talk about the early years of my life as a baby, because I don't remember them anyway). My discovery led me to the thought that I'm not the only one with this so called "unordinary" ability and there were way more people in the world then I'd like to admit who posses the same traits as me. My parents were lying the whole time, calling me their little smart person. And that's the hardest part to realise and admit.

Something like this may seem too unimportant for the person who's to read my book. Of course i never thought i could hide it forever, i could just hope my parents would never find it after the planning and execution of my death. I may have skipped a few parts of my story as I've said this dreadful thing so casually. Of course I didn't want to die, i simply craved to escape.

Selfishness was something i never understood. It was hard to understand and see in other people. It was like a painting, shown to a child while it is being asked to explain the thought behind it. That's how i felt most of the time with those portraits of human beings that were presented to me every single day. They were hard to read and sometimes even irritating as frustration often grew in my insides the more i stared at a person.

But they were addicting. I watched them, studied how they act and grew more and more hateful towards them. I truly despised humans. And yet i were so jealous of them, i couldn't think straight when in their company. I felt too conflicted for my own liking and that made me turn to music.

I craved silence and solitude. For a long time I didn't get any of that, feeding my depression with repressed urges and putting my own needs at the bottom of the list. There was a time i cared more about my girlfriend at the time rather than myself which led me to take part in self-harming behaviour. My mind and body were being split as one was too eager to think but the other couldn't move for days. I could only lay in bed and stare at the ceiling while tears streamed down my face. My insomnia got worse and by the end of every week i was counting only 10 hours of sleep.

My parents never saw those signs of a ruined human in me and instead continued their lives straight on like norhing mattered. A part of me wanted them to find out only so i could see how they will act about it. Were they going to be taken down by guilt, apologizing to me or were they going to be disappointed of me for not being able to win that battle against myself? I was too out of it to think of all the possible scenarios, only coming to myself when i had to go to school and act out my perfect life.

I often wondered how i looked from other person's perspective. It's a shame I'll never get to find out. Simply because with time i find myself not caring at all. Life's been a bitch towards me more than once and by the fime i reached 10th grade i was too tired to fight back. Does that make me weak or lazy? Neither. Not always is a person weak if he doesn't take action. My parents don't understand that. And it pains me to watch them so hard on about their own beliefs.

"I think a human should believe whatever he wants but needs to listen to other people too. At least speaking from personal experience." Everybody says that. I wish i could too. But no. Not everything is based on "personal experience" whatever that is. I could be old and not experienced enough or i could be young and too experienced. How are you going to judge me now? You can't. And that's what most people are mad about. When you can't judge somebody you feel like they are perfect, then you compare them to yourself and eventually your own self-esteem is damaged.