#because some small part of me is waiting for them to get bored and retreat to their closer friends

[randomravager]

before, I always believed I deserved better people in my life.

but now that I actually have friends who care about me and genuinely want me around, im realising that I don’t actually believe that.

like I’ll probably get arguments from mutuals about this, but like what even makes me so special? all my good qualities can be easily found in others, and idk ig im used to feeling like my bad traits outweigh the good in any interaction I have (im too loud, too bossy, too quiet, too clueless, too stuck-up, too awkward, too distant/distracted, etc.)

what did I even do to deserve the life I have?

[l-in-the-light]

(Mis)adventures of Law with the Strawhats [fanfiction snippet, part 3 - the final one!]

[Links to: Part 1 and Part 2]

"Alliance?" all of them ask at the same time.

"You will find out once someone actually lands on same field" Law cuts his answer short.

"What's with that half-assed effort? Admit it, you just didn't think it through yet!" Usopp accuses him, meanwhile Luffy's eyes get their spark back.

"That's the best idea ever, I can't wait to land on same field with Torao again!"

Yamato looks at the dessert in front of him, so far not even touched. Then he takes the small spoon and digs in a bit, brings it to his mouth and his eyes grow larger. "This is actually really good. So sweet!" then he looks around the table. Law turns his gaze away before their eyes can meet, but somehow Yamato still stops at him for a moment; he can tell.

"Does anyone want to try it too? I don't know why Sanji only gave it to me"

"That's because he thinks you're a lady" Usopp replies. "And no thanks, I'm good, I have lots of salty crackers now"

"I'm also good" Brook says, still sipping his tea. Is it still the very same one since they started playing, Law wonders.

"I want!" Luffy says, but Usopp stops him just in time. "Don't give it to him, he will gulp it all down in one bite. There, you have enough snacks on the table already"

"Yeah, but I would want to try that one too" Luffy says, eyeing the dessert, but seems he finally gives up and downs a full bowl of crackers instead.

"I would want to, but I think Sanji will kill me, or even cook me, if I even try to come near it" Chopper says, because he got interested since the moment Yamato declared it was something sweet.

"He won't know" Yamato assures him and gives Chopper a spoon with quite a big bite of cake on it. He smiles when Chopper quickly catches it with his mouth and a moment later some tears spill from his eyes. "So nice~!"

And finally Yamato's eyes turn to Law. "I'm good" he finally voices out, avoiding to look at the dessert or Yamato.

"Hm" Yamato muses, but seems to leave it be.

"So, how do we play it now?" Usopp asks, because they have been playing for a bit already, but Brook literally just finished the game. "Should we make Brook start over from the beginning?"

"That's cheating, he won already" Law comments.

"Right" Usopp frowns.

"Can I play two turns instead of him?" Luffy grins, but everyone quickly cuts him off with a loud "NO".

"It's kinda not nice to play without him" Yamato says, the dessert forgotten and left unfinished for now.

"Let's just start over, I wanna win!" Luffy decides and stretches his hands to gather all the pawns.

"Then I'm out" Law retorts back and Luffy's hands freeze. He quickly retreats them back.

"Torao" he says, turning to him, his brows furrowed. "Are you in a bad mood? Why do you not want to play with me anymore?"

Law looks deliberately away. Why does Luffy have to constantly act this way? With every day he reminds him more of his little sister. Why did Law had to buy this game in the first place, now he wishes he never did.

"I had to play with you like dozens of times last night, how much more do I have to play till you're actually satisfied?" He finally blurts out. Even this line sounds like something from the past in his ears.

"Every day?" Luffy attempts and Law smashes his hand on the table in reply, startling everyone.

"You can play with other people now" he snaps.

"But I want to play with you too!" Luffy cries out and reaches towards Law's hand that's still splayed on the table. The touch is brief and barely there, but takes Law by surprise and Luffy can feel him freezing up. "Sorry" he mumbles as he retreats his hand immediately, but it's too late and Law is already on his way to the door, trembling slightly. Usopp whispers "Great, now you made him angry", but Law can still hear it.

Usopp peeks at Luffy's face and he just knows he has to do something, anything to stop this. "Let's calm down, it's just a game, Luffy will soon get bored with it anyway" but it has no effect and Usopp nearly gives up at this point.

"Wait, please!" Chopper suddenly shouts. "I had a lot of fun playing together, especially when you allowed me to roll the die for you! I… I never played any board game before! So thank you! And I'm sorry if I did something bad, I'm a dummy after all, so it's probably not fun to play with me…"

That, curiously enough, made Law stop in his step.

"I also never played before. My crew did, mostly card games, but since I don't have eyes, I couldn't join them"

"Wait, you must have had eyes when you were alive" Usopp points out, despite just a second ago feeling kinda sorry for the skeleton man.

"Oh, right. Then maybe it was one of the illusions I experienced when I spent years surrounded with their dead bodies, stranded in the Florian Triangle" he muses, and like an afterthought adds "YOHOHOHOHO".

It doesn't help at all to solve the tension, Law notes in his head despite himself. He didn't sign up to hear all those tearful stories and he for sure isn't gonna share his own one.

Yamato makes a worried expression, but then nods to himself and his eyes become clear like a cloudless sky. "This is actually also my first time playing any board game. Or any game at all, really. Since I was locked alone for almost all of my life and no one was even allowed near me"

Usopp stays quiet for a bit, his brows furrowed and he stares at the table. When he finally speaks up his voice is much quieter than the others. "I lied, I actually also never played any board games before… other kids kinda avoided me in my village. I did have dices though!" he doesn't add that he actually just picked them up from the ground after other kids most likely lost it.

"I kept them, because I thought it was a mysterious object lost by the nomadic tribe of Spotted People. Everyone knows about Spotted People, they're the ones responsible for drawings dots on everything, like skirts. They draw dots on everything that belongs to them, so if you see any dotted objects you know it means one of Spotted People was passing by. Those squares looked kinda important, so I kept the dices for them just in case The Spotted Tribe would cross this path again, searching for it."

"That's so nice of you!" Chopper says, wiping a tear with his hoof. No one comments that the Spotted Tribe doesn't exist in reality, so neither does Law.

Luffy looks at his crewmates expressionlessly, and Usopp has to actually nudge him and whisper to share his story as well. Luffy just keeps staring, but when Usopp points towards quiet Law still standing near the door, he seems to connect the dots.

"Torao!" he calls after him, his voice slightly cracking. "It's okay if you don't want to play with them. Let's play later on, just the two of us instead!"

"OI!" Usopp smacks him on the head. "What's wrong with you?! You were supposed to share your sad story about never playing games with anyone before! And what about us and our feelings?!"

"Why are you hitting me?!" Luffy replies, a bit sulky because he doesn't get it. And Law thinks that of course he doesn't. After all Luffy told him all about it already yesterday night. How he never saw a board game before, but he once played some jumping game one of his brothers drew on the sand.

"We saw some kids playing it before, but we didn't know the rules. Sabo taught us how to play, but Ace said later that those weren't the correct rules, Sabo probably thought them up, because he said earlier he also never played before. I didn't care, it was fun to do something together like that"

Luffy couldn't fall asleep and was kinda moody as the result, so Law, not really knowing what to do, simply proposed to play, because that's the only thing that came to his mind. And then he somehow told him this was the first game his parents gave to Law and his little sister. After Luffy wondered outloud how it's like to actually have parents around, Law somehow ended up playing with him till the earliest hours of the morning.

Usopp just shakes his head, and calls to Law, bringing him back to reality. "Just ignore him, he was always slightly off in the head, there's no way to fix him"

"Hey, that's not a nice thing to say!" Luffy complains.

"What you said earlier also wasn't nice!" Usopp retorted and he smacks him again. Luffy doesn't stay indebted for long and returns the favour, which makes Usopp do it again as well, and they probably would keep on doing it for longer, but Law finally turns around, sighs and just goes back to his seat.

"Do you all have to be always so dramatic about everything you do" he grits through his teeth, crossing his arms and looking at no one in particular.

"Says the most dramatic one around…" slips from Usopp's lips despite his better judgment, and he is immediately greeted with a glare promising many death threats, but their staring contest gets interrupted before Usopp can duck under the table in fear.

"Here you go!" Yamato smiles as he places a plate in front of Law. There's a half of the chocolate dessert resting on it, together with a clean spoon. Law looks at him and raises his eyebrows. "I heard there's nothing better than a make up snack after a fight!" he cheers and goes back to his own half of the dessert, finishing it up with a wide smile.

Law just looks at the plate wordlessly. He admits he feels kinda stupid over all that now, but he would rather bite off his tongue than admit it outloud.

"So, what are we doing about Brook?" Usopp returns with the annoying question. Law closes his eyes and snaps his fingers.

"He will play, as an assassin. He will go backwards, retreating his steps all the way back to the beginning" he says, not even bothering to acknowledge the puzzled looks directed at him. "And every time he will pass by another player, they get eliminated"

"Wait wait wait, that sounds scary!", "It actually sounds fun! Can we fight him off somehow??", "Yohohoho!" are comments that are soon following.

"Hold on, but then no one can reach the end goal!" Usopp points out and is greeted with a very sinister smile in reply.

"Good job for catching on that"

Luffy at least doesn't seem to mind, Chopper is still panicking, Brook doesn't stop laughing, and Yamato's mouth is just comically gaping open. Usopp for once is not giving up though.

"Or maybe" Usopp starts, pondering. "The assassin is instead a ghost. Every time he passes by someone, he starts to follow them around, like a curse! And if that person doesn't do something in particular, they have to return to the start… or they get eliminated!"

"If they don't throw two sixes in four rounds, the haunted person will have to move backwards from now on as well" Law adds. "All the way till they reach the starting point"

"Or if they roll two fours. Because four means death and eight is double death so it breaks the curse!" Usopp nods. "Wait, do we even have another dice?"

"Now we do" Law says, flicks his fingers and another die lands on the table. "You can also escape the assassin following you if you slide down a snake or go up the ladder. We can consider it a special rule that applies only when you're followed by the assassin."

"Then the ghost has to give it up and find someone else to follow around!" Usopp finishes, pointing at Brook. "But if the person who is followed rolls two twos, they become a ghost as well till they get another pair of fours!"

"Good idea" Law comments and Usopp flashes him a smile. And then extends his opened palm towards him, pausing and waiting for something. Law looks at him. "Come on, that was brilliant, high five is in order!"

Law looks at the offered palm and at his own hand. Should he…? And then slowly raises it up and leaves it hanging there in midair, not moving it any further. Usopp smacks his own hand with his, smiling from ear to ear and wiping his nose with his finger. "We make a good team!" he declares.

Before Law can take his hand away, Chopper and Luffy also join in for the high five-ing, earning themselves a groan. Law quickly takes his hand back and hides it under the table, as far as he possibly can.

"Sorry, Torao!" Luffy says and no one gets it, but Law doesn't really comment on it either. Usopp just shrugs, probably thinking it's just another of Luffy's weird things he does. Law starts to realize that's the usual consensus around the Sunny.

"So, whose turn was it?"

"God Usopp's" Law answers, which makes Usopp both flush and giggle at the same time.

"You can be God Torao as well, if you want. You earned it!" he says mercifully.

"No, I'm good" Law replies immediately.

"Suit yourself, I won't offer it to you again!" he warns, waggling his finger at him.

They roll the die, Brook finds his first victim, yohohoho-ing all the time when stalking Usopp's pawn (which was the closest to the goal) while the latter already regrets all his life choices up until this second. Taking advantage of the commotion Law places a plate in front of Luffy. It contains half of the half of the dessert.

"For me?? Really?!" Luffy can't believe his eyes and dumps everything that's on it in his mouth, which is why he has to retrieve the spoon a moment later from his rubbery maw. "Wow, it's indeed very sweet"

Yamato sends Law a smile, but it gets blatantly ignored.

"Ooff, I'm alive" Usopp wipes sweat from his forehead, he slid down a snake to escape Brook's clutches. "The ghost couldn't take me, haha" he laughs weakly. "Why did I even agree to this rule?!"

"Assassin, not a ghost" Law comments.

"It's a ghost! The Bone Snatcher! Because he will steal your bones once he puts the curse on you" Usopp insists.

"I prefer just Brook" says Brook. "Yohohoho"

"No, it's actually a villain! A marine! An admiral!" Luffy butts-in.

"A Germa" Law corrects him.

"A Germa!!" Luffy agrees, throwing his fist in the air.

"I dunno why you're talking about those bastards, but I agree about every bad word you said about them" says Sanji, as he returns to the kitchen. "Or actually, no, just don't talk about them in my presence if you want to get any dinner today" he reconsiders, after he gets back to his counter.

He then notices almost immediately an extra plate in the sink that Law shambled away. "Confess, who snatched something from the kitchen when I was away? Was it you, Law?!" he looks accussingly, knowing fully well what Law's powers could do. Law doesn't exactly agree or disagree, because he might have indeed made Sanji's life a bit harder when he sometimes snatched some snacks for Luffy between meals, just so Luffy would give him some peace. But when Sanji just gives him a stare full of daggers and past resentments, Law remains completely unremorseful.

"You need more than an extra plate as a proof" Law defies him, but before the conflict can escalate any further, Yamato raises his hand, trying to attract Sanji's attention instead.

"Sorry, it was me. I'm a big boy, so just one plate wasn't enough!"

"Oh, if it was Yamato-chan, it's alright" Sanji swoons. "I'm not apologizing to you though, even if you hate on Germa. I have no guarantee you didn't force Yamato-chan's pure heart to help you get extra food" he huffs in Law's direction. Curiously enough, just a moment later he swears when he turns on the water in the sink and it splashes all over him.

"Bone Snatcher!" Usopp still insists on his idea.

"How about Oden?" Yamato asks cheerfully like people aren't fighting and about to punch each other to push their ideas, and suddenly everyone turns to look at him.

"Oden, how nice" Chopper comments. Almost everyone else nods as well. "Oden it is!"

"Since when was Oden a vengeful ghost?" Usopp frowns, but Law just shrugs. "Oh, come on, you can't agree to this as well!"

"It's Oden" Law replies, smirking again when Usopp groans.

"I regret sharing my God title with you, I take it back!"

"I didn't accept it anyway"

At that moment Usopp notices that Law is munching another cookie and narrows his eyes.

"Liking sweets doesn't really suit you" he says, trying to get back on him, judging him with his narrowed eyes.

Law furrows his brows. "I use my brain, brain needs sugar"

"I can confirm that it's a scientific fact!" Chopper butts in, nodding his head vigorously.

Usopp is still looking sceptically at him, when Luffy suddenly shouts. "Finally! I made it on the same field as Torao again!"

They all look down on the board.

"So, what now??" Luffy looks expectantly at Law. They all do. He blinks once. Oh, right. Alliance.

"Now…" he starts and taps his finger on the board. "…we play as one team. We roll two dice, you one and me another, and we add up the number and move our pawns the same amount of fields. The alliance lasts till we roll two ones, which means we can go seperate ways from that moment again"

"What if I don't want to finish the alliance?" Luffy asks immediately.

"Then, I guess, it continues" Law answers reluctantly.

"TWO DICES?!" Usopp screams. "That's an unfair advantage, it's like rolling dice twice every round!"

"Also, anytime we step on a ladder or a snake, only one person can go up or down. That's also a way to seperate an alliance" Law adds, because he knows he needs to balance this rule out a bit.

"Eh, I don't like that" Luffy complains.

"But if we're haunted by Oden and lose to the curse, we both have to retreat our steps all the way back to the beginning, unless we manage to lift it"

"That sounds fun" Luffy cheers again.

"What about the end goal?" asks Usopp, who is now munching on a cookie which he wouldn't touch before, suddenly crackers long forgotten for some mysterious reason.

"Only one person from the alliance can win" Law clarifies.

"How will that be decided?" Yamato asks.

"I will tell you once we get to that situation"

Everyone but Luffy protests.

"That sounds like an adventure!" he snickers.

"What's with that shtick of yours and witholding the rules! I protest! Come on guys, join me in my rebellion!" Usopp tries to rile up the crowd, but they all decide it's not worth it, because who cares, it's still fun. Law sneaks him a small V sign in his direction, which is Usopp's last straw.

"Fine, you want to play this way, then we will add some mines to the board!" he says, maniacally munching on the cookies, sugar rush probably getting to his head as he leans forward, fishing out a pen out of nowhere and coloring one, two, three, four fields completely black before Law reacts, at first trying to catch his hand to stop him, but in the end he just snatches his pen away, using shambles. "Hey, I wasn't done yet!" Usopp complains.

"That's enough already" Law huffs. "Returning people to the beginning all the time is poor balance, it will just make everyone frustrated all the time"

"So what? My luck is flawless and I will laugh at them all the time!"

"What a petty reason"

"It's done already, so deal with it!"

"Think of something else for the mines"

"Guys" Luffy interrupts them. "How about whoever steps on that black field jumps in the air?" he proposes.

They both look quizzically at him.

Luffy simply puts a pawn on that field and flips the board up so the pawn flies in the air (together with all the rest of them) and then lands back on board in a completely different spot. "An earthquake, shishishi!"

"Now you made a mess" Law comments, looking at the board, no surprise in his voice.

"I don't remember where was my pawn located before… How could you Luffy??" Chopper laments, but Luffy only laughs more.

"You basically destroyed the game, you know" Usopp criticizes, but Yamato and Brook look at each other and only laugh. "We can't play like this"

That caused a brief silence. Luffy is scratching his head, about to open his mouth and say something, but Law stops him.

"This doesn't destroy anything" he bluffs. "You just have to start over from the spot where your pawn landed on. And if it landed in the middle of a ladder or a snake, you put them up or down accordingly."

They all look at him like he just saved a world on his way back home from a grocery trip while not forgetting to buy the milk in the process. He has a hard time trying not to cringe.

"What about the pawn that fell off the board or beyond the borders?"

"Just put them on closest fields" he said, taking one of the pawns that completely fell off to the table, pondering. Putting it back on the start seems a bit cruel, but he guesses it can't be avoided…

"Just toss it in the air again, wherever it lands will be it's new field!" Luffy says, snatches it from Law's hand and demonstrates. The pawn fell slightly to the left from the middle of the board. "See, it works out!"

Everyone leans forward to find their new respective spots for their pawns, besides Law who catches Sanji frowning as he steals a peek from his counter. He also didn't miss the way Sanji stared at the board earlier on and Law looks towards the door, lost in his inner world again. He thinks back to their lunch, when everyone was here as well.

"Eh, but what about our alliance?" Luffy suddenly remembers and looks expectantly at Law who returns his attention back on him.

"We still roll both dice and move the same amount of fields"

"Oh, so it's not affected, good" Luffy practically beams, like suddenly something heavy was lifted from his chest. "So we just have to meet up again, shishishi"

"You know it will be harder now that you will move exactly the same amount of fields each round, right?" Usopp asks, taken aback by Luffy's carefree attitude.

"It will be just more challenging, is all! That's nothing for a future king of the pirates!" he cries out. "Also, it can't be helped"

"Indeed" Law says, looking at him. "It was an earthquake, after all"

Luffy chuckles. "Exactly!"

They keep on playing for whole afternoon, Yamato becomes Oden twice and seems to enjoy it more than the regular gameplay, chasing after Chopper who escapes all the way back to the beginning from him before he realizes he's safe already, Brook gets released from his Oden curse by two twos and is close to the goal again. Red and blue pawns mysteriously meet again by a chain of random circumenstances of Law escaping from the Oden curse up the ladder and Luffy sliding down a snake. They're seperated exactly by five fields now.

One die, the one that Law threw, shows a two. Luffy's die swirls a lot and seems to have stopped on five, yet it somehow flipped to show a three instead.

"I saw it!" Usopp shouts, pointing an accussatory finger in Law's direction. "You manipulated Luffy's dice so it lands in the way you want it to!"

"You saw nothing" Law comments back. "And you have no evidence that I ever cheated"

"Wait, why does it suddenly sound like you were cheating all this time??"

"Guys, Brook won again" Chopper complains worriedly. "Does it mean the game is over again?"

"No, we're playing to see who's last now" Law reminds him, ignoring Usopp's question and avoiding his long nose proding towards him.

When Luffy and Law, still somehow in an alliance, reach the goal together, they all finally learn how it will get decided who will be the first and who the second.

"We take the dice, throw it the hardest we can, and whichever one lands closest to the board wins" Law's lips curl up, smile sharp like razor blades, and everyone feels the chill run down their spine at the sight. Luffy laughs and everyone take it as a sign that now is the time to duck under the table, the fastest they can.

Law wasn't kidding when he said "the hardest they can", both of their dice bumped all over the place and hit the ceilling, till finally Luffy's one lands in the pot on the stove, while Law's one bounces off of Luffy's head and rolls away to some corner of the room.

As the result Sanji throws them all out of the kitchen angirly and threatens they won't get any dinner today.

"We need to play like this every evening! After Sanji is no longer in the kitchen" Luffy declares as soon as they're on the deck.

"Without me" Law deadpans, because how dare he decide that on his own again.

"Why?? Usopp, do something, make him agree!!"

"No way, convince him yourself, if I do anything he's gonna murder me in my sleep tonight"

"You bet I will"

"Scary!!" says Usopp as he hides behind Luffy who just laughs like it's all a funny joke, because Torao is always so funny.

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

Later that evening, Sanji is still preparing some snack for Franky who finally managed to sit down after a whole day of making some inventions and repairs. Nami and Robin are chatting at the kitchen table, and Zoro is lying down on the sofa under the window.

"What's that?" Franky asks, noticing a cardboard box sitting on the table. "Isn't it that snakes and ladders game they played before?"

"What?" Sanji sounds alarmed as he peeks over from the counter. "I was sure I threw it out together with all those rascals"

"Oh, so that's the game they were playing" Robin looks curiously when Franky opens the cover. "It looks rather simple"

"It might look this way, but they invented shit tons of new rules" Sanji grumbles, unquestionably thinking back to all the chaos they created in his precious kitchen.

"They did? What kind of?" Franky inquires, taking out some pawns and two dice.

"Whoever finished first was an assassin chasing other pawns down on their path, I think" Sanji says, waving his hand dismissively.

"Oh, how interesting" Robin smiles.

"What are those black fields?" Nami asks.

"Now that you mention it, I have never seen those before in that board game" Franky shrugs.

"They shook the board, scattering all the pieces randomly around whenever someone stepped on one of those" Sanji explains.

"That's surprisingly inventive. Was it Usopp's idea?"

"I think it was actually Luffy's"

"Huh"

"Okay, you're the orange one" Franky hands Nami the pawn. "And you're gonna be green" he turns his head towards Zoro, placing his pawn at the start.

"What? I'm not playing any games" Zoro protests.

"Neither am I" Sanji warns Franky before he can move on to give him a pawn as well. "I only told you about those rules because my beloved Nami-swan asked me"

Zoro looks at him. "Ah, you're just afraid to lose to me"

"WHAT"

"Come on, guys, let's play. It feels so nostalgic, I didn't play this game in forever. They left it here, we can as well play as we wait for our snacks. Sit down here, Zoro"

"Only if you make the stupid cook play"

"I'm not playing!" Sanji shouts. "Why are you here anyway? Aren't you on the watch tonight?"

"Torao took over for me today, actually, so I'm bored"

"Great, then go to bed early like a manchild you are!"

"Sure, if you declare my victory by default" Zoro snickers, moving on from the sofa to the table, and patting the chair next to him. "Come on, don't be a coward"

"The hell will freeze over faster than you will see me playing a stupid board game with you!"

Nami sighs. "Come on Sanji, Franky says it's more fun with more people"

Sanji looks at Nami, his swirly eyebrow flying all the way up on his forehead. "Fine, roll for me until I'm done here" he sighs. "Just so you know, I'm doing it only because Nami-swan asked me to" he clarifies, making a face at Zoro.

"Keep telling yourself that" Zoro smirks.

Soon, they're all sitting down at the table, few of them laughing and others sighing when Zoro somehow manages to turn himself around a few times, earning multiple scoldings from Sanji in the process.

"This is actually first time I'm playing any board game" Robin shares after a while.

"Me too actually. We didn't have any money so we couldn't really play any games" Nami muses. "This is surprisingly rather fun. I was gonna just join you all so Franky doesn't feel lonely"

"Oi thanks, I super appreciate that!" Franky shows her thumbs up. "Did you two ever play before?"

"Nah" Zoro answers.

"You probably only trained yourself stupid even as a child" Sanji comments.

"You bet"

"And you, Sanji?"

"I…" he says, taking a longer exhale of his cigarette. "I only watched my brothers play it before. They played it so often that I memorized the rules just by looking at them. That was before father found out and threw the game away"

Nami shared some condolences with him. He just waved them off, because he was too distracted by stupid marimo attempting to climb the snake from it's tail.

Meanwhile, just outside the kitchen, Law leans on the wall, standing there quietly. After some time, he shambles himself away to the crow's nest, where no one could see him smiling ever so slightly to himself.

[randomimaginesforrandompeople]

Little sister | Riven imagine

Request:  Hello! So I had this idea where the reader is a first year Specialist and Silva's daughter or niece but wants to keep it a secret. She catches the attention of Riven who one day gets quite jealous of Sky because he keeps spending time with her despite knowing what Riven feels for her so he bursts out during one of their training and actually learns that it's because they grew up together. Do you think you can write it?

A/N: I do not own this gif, I hope you enjoy! I feel as if this could get a part 2, so if anyone is interested let me know! Sorry for any spelling mistakes, this has not been beta-read, and English isn’t my main language!

You are Silva’s niece, you wanted to hide the fact because you didn’t want people to think you got special treatment. Luckily, you had a different last name so people wouldn’t suspect it easily. Your parents couldn’t take care of you so Silva did raise you, he was the closest thing to a father that you had.

The only person who knew was Sky, you and Sky had grown up together and he was like a brother to you. The two of you were super close and Sky treated you like a sister, especially once you entered Alfea. He was your best friend and he was really protective over you. He showed you around, helped you whenever you needed something and he introduced you to your now friends.

You obviously already knew Stella and the two of you actually got along quite well, you also met the other girls through Sky who you befriended, he thought you would all get along well and he was definitely right. You appreciated him looking out for you.

The two of you had already practiced together in the summer, so you felt confident when you had your first training day. You were sparring with Dane and beating him, over and over again. Sky and Riven were on the training grounds, looking at the first year specialists. Sky wanted to see you on your first day of course and Riven came along because he was bored and this would be better than nothing.

‘‘Damn look at that firecracker’‘ Riven commented, eyes on you. Sky wanted to sigh, this is exactly why he hadn’t introduced the two of you. ‘‘Do you know her?’‘ Riven turned to you after you had waved to Sky and he had waved back. ‘‘Yeah, that’s Y/n’‘ Riven turned back to look at you, beating Dane once again. He was impressed. You stalked over to the two boys ‘‘You did a great job out there’‘ Sky congratulated you and you smiled brightly. Riven fake coughed and you looked into his direction. ‘‘Oh sorry, I’m y/n’‘ you stuck your hand out for him to shake it, he grinned and shook your hand ‘‘Riven’‘ 

The two of you shook your hands for quite some time while just looking each other. SKY looked at you and sighed ‘’Jesus’’ he mumbled under his breath, catching your attention again. You retreated your hand with a small blush, Riven still grinning from ear to ear. ‘’Ready to go?’’ Sky nodded. Riven looked surprised, he had no idea you knew each other that well. Sky wrapped his arm around you ‘’See you later Riv’’ Sky said as he turned to you, you gave Riven a small wave before leaving with Sky, leaving a very confused Riven behind.

It kept going like that. Riven flirting with y/n, getting some very nice responses. (She’s a very feisty girl, but she also gets nervous around him sometimes really cute). But she kept looking for Sky and leaving with him. Sky was still dating Stella as far as Riven knew, so he did not understand what was going on, if you were pining after Sky you would be in for a rude awakening, and besides why did Sky get into it? 

Sky had definitely noticed Riven developing an interest in you and he wasn’t very thrilled about it. He loved Riven absolutely, just not as a potential boyfriend for his maybe-not-blood-related-but-counts-as-little-sister. Which is why he held of on telling Riven what was going on, also because he liked the confused expressions of Riven. 

It was the second time this week that Sky couldn’t hang out because he was with y/n. So Riven went to Stella, because he was very bothered and also because she should know if there was something going on, atleast that’s what he convinced himself of as he approached the fairy. ‘’What do you want?’’ Stella asked annoyed and Riven already whished he had never gone ofter to her. ‘’Sky, he’s been all over this other girl’’ Stella raised an eyebrow ‘’First of all, why are you telling me? and second which girl?’’ Riven looked at the blonde ‘’Because you deserve to know’’ Stella’s eyebrow was still raised, this made no sense. ‘’Who’s the girl?’’ She was still kind of curious, even though she didn’t trust Riven at all. ‘’Y/n’’ Stella started laughing, loudly, making Riven even more confused. Why the hell was she laughing? ‘’Yeah I’m not really worried about that’’ Stella said as she continued laughing and walked away from him. Riven had no clue what was going on, Sky was all over y/n and Stella didn’t care?

Riven saw you and Sky talking with each other from a far. He was getting ready to train, actually waiting for Sky, when you came up to him. It all looked way too friendly for his liking, he wouldn’t really admit it but he had really started to like you. You knew how to take care of yourself, you were kind but also a complete badass and he was into it. Which is why he didn’t apreciate his best friend all up in your business. He saw you two hugging and you leaving as Sky finally came over to start training. 

Riven was pisssed and it showed, he fought aggressively. ‘’God Riven calm down’’ Sky was breathing heavy, Riven finished him and knocked him to the ground. ‘’What has gotten into you?’’ It was Sky’s turn to be confused, he had done nothing wrong? That is when Riven burst ‘’You’re after the fucking girl I like! Even though you know I’m into her’’ Sky sighed, he had to tell him which he dreaded, mainly because he didn’t want to tell your secret but he had to. ‘’For christ sake, come with me’’ Sky took Riven to a more secluded area, he didn’t want other people overhearing.

‘‘Y/n is Silva’s niece, basically daughter though’‘ Sky started ‘‘Silva’s her only sort of parental figure, which is why we basically grew up together. She’s basically my sister dude’‘ Riven’s eyes grew ‘‘Your sister?’‘ Sky chuckled. ‘‘Yeah, we’re not blood related but I see her as my sister, and she sees me as a brother’‘ Sky gave Riven a knowing look. ‘‘Your bloody sister’‘ Riven mumbled ‘‘Wait, so if I get with her, I’d be getting with your sister?’‘ Sky shoved him ‘‘Shut up Riven, this is exactly why I didn’t tell you sooner’‘ Riven grinned and the two of them walked back to the training grounds. ‘‘I’m going to try to fuck your sister’‘ Sky shoved him again ‘‘Riven I swear to god, shut up’‘ 

Taglist: @voidmalfoy @novawrts @americaswritings @blahhhhhhhaaa @teaandcoke

If you want to be added or removed from my taglist let me know!

[sunder-soul]

hii what about Tom Riddle being fucking jealous about reader ?

So I got massively carried away with this one lol, apologies if this isn’t what you were expecting, my imagination went wild!

PART II AVAILABLE! 💖

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.  

Jealousy

Summary: Reader has to tutor an insufferable jock and Tom Riddle starts acting very strangely indeed. Wordcount: 1.8k Content warning: none.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The Great Hall was bright and lively with morning sun and the chatter of students, spoons clinking against bowls and butter spreading on toast.

“What is he doing?” you whisper to Margot sitting next to you at the table.

“I think he’s attempting to show off,” she giggles back.

You were both watching Austin Varrowe, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, obnoxiously demonstrate his Beater swing for a series of very bored looking Ravenclaw girls who weren’t paying him any attention in the slightest.

“Slughorn’s making me tutor that idiot,” you grumble.

“No way,” Margot grins, rounding on you.

“Yup,” you sigh, “can you believe it? Two evenings a week for the rest of the term… I think I’ll brain myself with a cauldron by Friday.”

Margot pats your shoulder sympathetically.

That evening, you reluctantly set off for the dungeons to meet Varrowe with your bag slung over your shoulder, but as you round a corridor you very nearly bowl straight into someone coming the opposite direction.

“Riddle,” you say, surprised, “sorry, didn’t see you there.”

Riddle takes a step back and tidily clasping his hands being his back. “You’re out rather late,” he said smoothly. “And in the dungeons, no less. Are you lost? The library is that way.” He nods back down the corridor.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Riddle was such a know-it-all. “I’m meeting someone, actually,” you say dismissively, checking your watch. “In fact, I better get going or he’ll think I’m standing him up.”

Riddle looks very briefly surprised, and then a cool look of disapproval settles on his fine features. “I don’t suppose I have to remind you that curfew is in two hours,” he says stiffly, “you wouldn’t be intending on breaking that, would you?”

You snort a laugh and step past him. “Thanks for the reminder,” you say sarcastically, “see you later, Riddle.”

You manage to get away before he can say anything else.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Varrowe,” you call, giving your friends a quick wave as you dash to catch up to him in the throng of students making their way to their next class. “Are you free tonight?”

“Oh – right,” Varrowe says, looking dispirited. “Sure. Seven o’clock?”

You nod and lean closer. “Please make sure you actually bring your textbook this time,” you mutter, managing to keep your exasperation off your face. “You do in fact need to read it at least once to pass the class.”

Varrowe grins and reaches out to ruffle your hair. “You’re smart,” he says loudly, “barely understood a thing you said last time.”

“Right,” you say through gritted teeth, trying to tidy your hair. “Well, see you this evening.”

“Sounds good,” Varrowe shrugs, wandering away.

You sigh. Slughorn better appreciate your sacrifice; tutoring Varrowe was the equivalent of torture. You turn on your heel to catch up with your friends, but once again you come face to face with –

“You have got to stop sneaking up on me,” you say dryly, “seriously, Riddle, it’s creepy.”

Riddle’s eyes slide from Varrowe’s retreating form to your face. “Is Varrowe the one you were meeting last week?” he asks smoothly.

The question surprises you. “Yeah, why?” you frown.

“And you’re meeting him again?”

You arch a brow at his decidedly clipped tone. “Yeah but don’t worry, I promise I won’t break curfew, I know that’s of the utmost importance to you –”

“An odd choice,” Riddle interrupts, something uncharacteristically irate in his voice, “Varrowe.”

You stare at him. “…Is he?” you ask pointedly, unable to think of anyone more in need of tutoring. Only yesterday Varrowe had lost his phial of Flobberworm mucus and had asked Slughorn if he could just use some of his own instead. “I think he’s the perfect choice.”

Riddle’s eyes flash. “I should be going,” he says curtly, “see you in class.” He gives you a single, stiff nod and leaves without another glance.

You blink after him, shaking your head in confusion. Riddle was acting very, very strangely.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“So if you overboil it, it’ll turns green,” Varrowe said slowly, peering at the notes on Veritaserum on the desk between you, “but if you underboil it, it’ll get those weird lumps?”

“Yes,” you say with great relief.

“Is it better to overboil it or underboil it?”

You immediately regret having felt relieved. “It’s better to do neither,” you say flatly.

Varrowe heave a great sigh and carelessly leans back in his chair. “I’m too tired for this,” he complains. “Did I mention that we had an extra Quidditch practice this morning?”

He had. Six times.

You slide your things into your bag and stand. “You’re right, it’s late,” you mutter, “we can pick this up again on Monday.”

Varrowe gleefully stands too and is out the door of the Potions classroom in a heartbeat. “Are you coming to the game next weekend?” he asks you in the corridor outside, unsubtly flexing his shoulder muscles as he pretends to roll them out.

You very nearly roll your eyes. “Sure, I’ll be there.”

“Excellent,” he grins, “I’ve been working on this tag-team move with Procker that’ll really have Slytherin guessing, I’ll have to show you later –”

“Varrowe.”

The voice is crisp and cool, and it doesn’t take a genius to guess who it is.

“Riddle,” Varrowe says, looking disgruntled. “Why are you here?”

“I’m a prefect, if you recall,” Riddle says in a glacial tone, “patrols are part of my responsibilities.”

“How very fortunate indeed that you were patrolling this exact corridor at this exact time,” you say with a hint of sarcasm. “Merlin, imagine if we’d forgotten about curfew.”

Riddle’s dark eyes flash to you, and you impassively hold his gaze. “You should return to your common rooms,” he says delicately, “or I will be forced to give you both detentions.”

“Steady on Riddle,” Varrowe grins, “we’ve got half an hour yet, give us a second to say goodbye.”

Riddle wrenches his eyes off you and fixes Varrowe with a very cold look. “You will go at once,” he says in a dangerously soft tone, “do you understand?”

Varrowe bristles, standing taller and pushing his chest out in a way he clearly thinks is intimidating. Riddle looks utterly unfazed.

Sensing trouble on the horizon, you grab Varrowe’s sleeve and tug him back. “Come on, Varrowe,” you say quickly, “let’s go. You’ve got practice in the morning, right?”

Varrowe glares at Riddle who was yet to move an inch, his expression still cool and blank. “Right,” Varrowe growls, “yeah, let’s go.”

Varrowe turns and stalks off, not noticing that you don’t follow. Instead, you round on Riddle.

“Will you explain what the hell is going on?” you whisper angrily.

“Watch your tongue,” Riddle says sharply.

You glower at him. “So sorry – I mean, will you please explain what the hell is going on?”

His eyes narrow. “It would not be wise to antagonise me,” he says icily.

“Would it not?” you breathe, stepping closer. “What are you going to do, dock me points? Give me detention?”

Riddle’s eyes are dark and hostile, and something works in his jaw as he glares back at you.

“Back off, Riddle,” you snap, “I don’t know what your problem is with me, but seriously, drop it.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he breathes.

“Oh? You always threaten people with detention when they’ve done nothing wrong? I’m sure Slughorn will be overjoyed to hear that his favourite prefect is abusing his power like that,” you hiss, leaning closer.

Riddle visibly grits his teeth with fury on his face. A tense silence falls, and you suddenly realise that the two of you are standing far, far too closely together.

You step back at once, trying to ignore the strange feeling that swells in your stomach. “Goodnight, Riddle,” you mutter, turning to hurry away.

“Why Varrowe?” he says sharply, stopping you in your tracks.

You look over your shoulder at him. Riddle’s hair looks even blacker in the dark corridor, his burning eyes on yours, the flickering light from the torch on the wall beside him throwing shadows down his cheekbones. “What?” you frown. Now was definitely not the time to get distracted by Riddle’s good looks.

“Why Varrowe?” Riddle repeats stiffly. “He’s a simpleton.”

You blink. “Exactly,” you say slowly.

Something hostile flickers on Riddle’s face before he quickly tempers his expression back into composure. “I appear to have misjudged you,” he says coldly, looking away.

“What are you talking about?” you exclaim in exasperation. “Do you not understand how tutoring works? If he wasn’t absolutely thick I wouldn’t have to waste my evenings explaining to him that Cough Potions are for curing coughs and not inducing them.”

Riddle stares at you. The silence drags on.

You sigh impatiently. “I’m going to bed,” you grumble, turning away again.

“Wait,” he says sharply.

You wheel around, annoyed. “What?”

But your frustration is wiped away in an instant because Riddle is once again much too close. So close, in fact, that you can see the shadows his eyelashes are casting down his cheeks and the heat in his eyes as he looks down at you.

“You’re tutoring him?” he asks quietly.

You nod silently, your throat suddenly thick with nerves.

“That’s why you were meeting him.”

You nod again, unable to look away from him.

Riddle hums contemplatively, his expression smooth as his dark eyes roam your face. “Good,” he murmurs.

“Good?” you whisper.

Riddle’s lips curve into a small smirk, his head tilting slightly, and you absolutely do not blush at the sight. “Weren’t you going to bed?” he asks silkily.

“Worried about me breaking curfew, are you?” you say with a flicker of a taunt, trying to ignore your heart pounding quickly in your chest.

Riddle’s smirk grows. “I told you not to antagonise me,” he says smoothly as he steps in even closer, so close that his robes graze against your arms and you can feel warmth radiating from him as he looms over you.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, “seems to be going pretty well for me so far.”

Riddle’s eyes flick between yours, and for a single burning moment the tension is so thick that you can hear your pulse thrumming in your ears, your gaze dropping to his full lips and seeing his do the same to yours – and then just like that, Riddle steps away.

“Goodnight,” he says evenly, “I trust you can get back to your common room without supervision.”

You nod blankly but Riddle is already turning away and disappearing down the dark corridor, melting into the darkness. You stand there a moment frozen in place, your cheeks burning and your heart still racing as the cold air rushes in where his warmth had been brushing up against your skin.

Riddle was acting very, very strangely indeed.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

PART II AVAILABLE! 💖

[sopxhiea]

Invitation

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Drabble

She leans against the doorframe, hair resting on her shoulders as she plays with her dress. Fuck, she’s proper lovely. Her smile follows the lines of her delicate features and he swears he sucks in a breath while waiting for the lad to get his papers in hand.

“You can come in for a bite, you know?”

Oh, he’d like to.

Her voice is soft, playful almost and Alfie images her writhing underneath him like he’s done a dozen times before but reminds himself that there are rules, invisible ones that are formed by the moral compass of the person.

He doesn’t have one.

She plays with the ends of her hair as he looks down at her small form, she gets lovelier by the day, he swears. A soft smile finds his lips and he shakes his head, making a curious noise leave her lips at the act. His eyes meet hers once more and he considers, fucking thinks about going in his employee’s house to have dinner with his housemate.

“‘m good, lass.” he speaks, choking out the words when she starts walking towards him.

Her movements are slow, clearly calculated as she strides towards him. He sucks in a breath and his eyes don’t leave hers. She has her smile on the entire time. She knows the affect she has on the baker all too well, as he’s not the most subtle of admirers but she decides she’ll give him a chance, she wants to after all.

“Have you had dinner, Mr. Solomons?” she whispers and he loses it for a second, mouth agape for a solid second before he gathers himself to look at the devilish eyes of the lass before her.

She says his name in a way that makes him swear there are gods, good ones too. They have given him the gift of her, or more so the gift of getting to ogle her every morning he has the chance to come by. His employee lives with her, a bloke named Ishmael and he makes the lad swear that he’ll take care of the girl.

Although he’d much rather do it himself.

“Nah, I haven’t.” he mutters, no energy left to curse in his system with her so close by.

He sees her face closer this way, even more gorgeous than he’d thought before. He takes his time, too. Eyes her eyelashes under the evening light as she stares up at him, marvels at his bulky form while he eye-fucks the girl. She doesn’t mind it, enjoys it if anything.

“Come on, then.” she says and he can’t find in himself to say no, he can’t even shake his head but to follow the lass.

He shakes his head while walking inside the house, following her like her tail and she smiles at the act. Alfie doesn’t seem like the rough type to her, although she’s sure he’d love to act like it. She doesn’t know enough about him to make conclusions but the more things she hears, the more curious she is about the nature of the gangster.

She sits him down then, on the large table in the dining room with no one but her and him. He figures Ishmael is inside the apartment somewhere still looking for the papers Alfie had asked for and he prays to his gods that the lad can’t find them. The lass pours Alfie a cup of water before filling his plate with warm food.

Fuck, it had been a long time since he’d had warm food at the table.

At any table, he reminds himself and catches the eyes of the lass he’s so fond of. She fills her plate as well, leaves Ishmael’s place empty and sits in front of Alfie before eating. Alfie watches her for a while, a slurty look in her eyes as she takes small bites from her filled spoon. 

He then digs in, swearing under his breath as he realizes that this was just what he needed. “Fuck.”

She smiles at the word, also because just a small plate of warm food was enough to untie the knots he’s keen on carrying. She watches him devour the food before him, the papers he came around for long forgotten as he casts her a peculiar glance every other minute. She eats slower, watches him under a curious gaze and settles that she likes him.

“Another one?” she asks, sweet this time once he’s done but he shakes his head. He’s full and hungry for something else now that his belly was full.

“Nah, pet. Good fuckin’ food it ‘s, though, yeah.” he says, appreciating home cooked foods more than ever now that she’s made some for him.

Ishmael finds the papers in the meantime, realizes his boss is having a meal with the girl he lives with and settles that it’ll be best to just wait in the car. He knows that the boss is fond of the lass, although he doesn’t know her well and he’s interested to say the least so he steers clear, away from the dining room.

“Well....that’s kind.” she speaks after his last words and he realizes he wants something else.

“It’s the fuckin’ truth, innit.” he speaks under heavy eyes. Not because he’s sleepy but because he wants her. 

“Tell me something else that’s true.” she says, elbows on the table once she’s finished. He smirks at her, laughs almost at the request. 

“Where’s the lad?” he asks, knowing he’s playing with fire now and tries to steer clear from fucking a lass a decade younger than him.

But she doesn’t seem to mind. It seems like it’s quite the opposite, actually. She wants it, he can see but she’s not the one to beg for it. He just thinks she’s not properly worked up yet, once she has her panting it’s over. But he knows the blurry lines formed by what’s proper and what’s not.

The way she’s looking at him is definitely not.

“I told him to stay away.” she says, as a matter of fact about the time she’d warned him off about keeping clear if they were ever to be in the same room.

“And he fuckin’ listened?” he asks, chuckling while muttering out the sentence. His own lad who doesn’t always listen to him is whipped by a young thing like her.

He doesn’t blame him. He’d do anything she says without questions, too.

“What do you think?” she whispers, voice breathy and she smiles when he gulps.

He’s in the wolf’s cave as a lone bear.

She can’t tear him up, not yet but she has the capacity. He knows she does from the way she walked towards him outside. She plays with her knife, putting the sharp part against her tongue and he inhales sharply. She’s done this before, he can see but he wonders who was the other player, the unlucky bastard.

“Why haven’t you come inside the house before?” she asks, curious eyes lingering on his lips before landing on his eyes.

“Didn’t have a good enough fuckin’ reason, did I?” he speaks but it’s a lie, they both know it.

“Is me waiting for you not good enough?” she counters the words with another questions and he loses his breath for a second before sucking in a sharp breath of air.

And he knows she’d been waiting but not how.

She’d been waiting with a smile on her face, hands exploring her inner thighs with the visions of him. She was impatient, that was easy to see and he’d die to see her chest heaving the way it had a couple days ago with the thought of his head between her legs. He sees the want, the need in her eyes, mirrored fiercely in his.

“I know you have places to be..” she starts speaking and he knows he’s fucked, she doesn’t need to finish the sentence. “...I’d be willing to keep you company, if you’d like that is.” she speaks and he knows it to be true.

“How old are ya’, lass?” he asks and she retreats for a second. He sees her hesitate, not because she cares about the age difference but because she doesn’t.

She doesn’t give a single damn about how he’s much older than she is or that he’s got blood in her hands. This is mostly due to the many lads she’d been around who were seemingly appropriate, some would even say a catch, for her but they were boring chaps who just wanted a kiss from a pretty girl.

She needs a man, and reckons he’s exactly that.

“I think you already know the answer.” she bites back this time, almost aggressive and he revels at that, marvels at her angry orbs for a second before he realizes he’s been staring at her like his last meal.

“Ya’ know how old I fuckin’ am, hm?” he asks and she chuckles, smiles at his act. She’s lovely, he catches himself thinking as he watches her and she nods.

She fucking nods.

And then she speaks, but with more poise and anger this time. She’s managing her rage well, he can see because he has the exact same one swimming in his very own orbs. He watches her entire demeanor change and she talks without breaking eye-contact, making him shift in his pants.

“I know age doesn’t matter to you....nor me being Ishmael’s housemate. You either want this..” she gestures to herself before putting her elbows on the surface, eyes stern. “...or you don’t. There’s plenty of fish in the sea and I have no problem with hunting some down.” she finishes and he needs an entire moment to gather himself.

He watches her chest heave, a million visions fills his head before he has to shake them out. His pants are tight now, too tight as he groans while adjusting the fabric. She sees the frustration, months of him wanting to make her his and now she’s presenting him with the opportunity but it’s not like what he’s imagined. 

Oh, it’s much better.

“What if I, yeah, do fuckin’ want it? What happens then, hm?” he asks, hand tugging at his beard as he watches her delve from confusion to confidence all in a second. She smiles at him, and he swears he’s about to fuck her on the dining table but she speaks before he can do that.

“Do you always ask questions that you know the answers to? Or is it only with me?” she says and he raises his eyebrows at that.

He does know what this entails.

Sleepless nights in his office, him fucking her against the desk and her getting bruises for it. He knows she’ll spend the weekends if he asks but he also sees the other side of the coin, the one with no fucking and a whole lot of blood. He sees the danger and a flick in his heart tells him to keep the angel before him out of it but he’s selfish.

“Do ya’ know the answer then?” Alfie asks and this is a warning of sorts, telling her that once she’s in, there’s no way out.

She nods, not bothered or threatened but simply knowing. He watches her smile, a wide grin on her pretty lips as she speaks.

“I’m not scared of a little blood, if that’s what you’re asking.” she speaks and he knows she’s not a woman to be toyed with. Sure, she’s young. Much younger than anyone he’s ever been with but he sees the fire in her eyes, the same he’s had since he became a young man. He knows she’s been through less than he, he can see it in her delicate hands compared to his calloused ones but he finds that he doesn’t care.

“‘m a dangerous fuckin’ man, luv.” he says and the pet name makes her smile in a way that makes him lose his breath. It’s so easy for her, he thinks and she knows, she drags the smile because of it.

“A dangerous man wouldn’t warn me off.” she says with a wicked smile.

And he’s sold.

He can’t argue with that logic, he thinks and it brings a low chuckle to his lips. She’s right, in some sick and twisted way and it makes him smile. He wants to take her home, kiss her real good and then explore every inch of her soft skin she’s graciously exposing to him. He wants to mark her and for people to see it. It’s primitive, but primitive can be good.

“When do ya’ have to be fuckin’ home?” he asks, like she’s a school girl or if her parents will check the bedroom in case of a missing daughter at night case.

So she chuckles at the words, shakes her head and offers the gangster the kindest smile she can muster. He wants her to ruin him, to make him beg on his knees and he’s willing to do so, every step of the way if he needs to but she’s taking a step back each time he tries to catch her in his strong arms. It’s frustrating but he’s close, too close to pass up the opportunity.

“Whenever we’re done.” she says, almost in a whisper this time and it makes Alfie get up almost abruptly.

He feels like a young man inside, how he felt before the war as he walks out of the dining room but not before stopping in front of the lass to mutter some words.

“Go on, then.” he says, against her face and she can feel the goosebumps on her skin. It makes her excited, that she finally has the chance to have a go at the scary man and Alfie watches her get her coat and offer her hand.

He takes it.

Her hand is much smaller, softer too and not roughened by the world’s many troubles. He plans to keep them that way, to make sure there’s not a scratch on her in his time of being around promises himself that it will be the case as long as she keeps him around.

Just before she’s about to hop into the car, holding onto his hand, she plants a kiss on the side of his mouth.

And he’s gone.

Because it’s soft, far too good for a criminal like him but he can’t bring himself to say that she should be wary of him. He wants her, like a little kid wants candy and he cannot keep denying himself, he knows this. He also knows she may come out of a bit more mature so sees it as a gain and gain situation.

Then he barks at the driver to take them to his place and feels her hand clasp his. A low fuck leaves his lips and he knows he’s in for trouble.

---

Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras​ @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum

A/n: This happened and i hope you liked it? Let me knowww and also if you’d like to be tagged.

[wrenhyperfixates]

Milkshakes

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Overwhelmed when Loki saves you, you respond to his kindness with fear. Determined to apologize, you seek Loki out to thank him with a couple of milkshakes and some fries. Warnings: a tad angsty but much fluff A/N: This is actually one of my favorite fics I’ve ever written. Hope you all enjoy :)

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart​ @marvelouslovely​

Disclaimer: Picture not mine

Of course it had to be during your lunch break that a supervillain attacked the city. Of course today you decided to go out to eat instead of packing something. And, of course you had to be walking by the building right as it crumbled. You started praying to any god that there may be to save you from being crushed. Though, you hadn’t actually expected one to save you.

In the moments before you would have been flattened, Loki put an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. Raising his free hand, a glimmering green force field appeared around you. The falling matter bounced off of it and landed around you, the shield offering strong protection. Of course you were thankful to be rescued, but did have to be Loki? You knew he was supposedly reformed, but so many news outlets still ran stories about how he was dangerous. A ticking time bomb. You’d never quite formed an opinion on him, and it was causing great conflict in you now. On the one hand, he looked very intimidating from this close, what with his impressive stature and horned helmet and all. But on the other, he was saving you from the actual super villain destroying the city. Perhaps if there wasn’t so much going on, you could think more clearly. Alas, your thoughts were a messy, confused jumble, leaving you fearful of the super-powered god in front of you.

“Are you alright?” he asked in his deep, smooth accent as the shield shimmered away into nothing. The god brought his arm to shield your eyes from the small pieces of debris still falling, the other one still around your waist in a protective manner. “Are you injured at all?

“I, um, uh, I- I,” you stammered, backing up. “Mhm. All good. Uhhh, thanks.”

You were certain you must be the most awkward person in history, but instead of making fun of you, Loki just looked sad. Even with the hurt behind his eyes, his arms shot out to catch you when you stumbled over the wreckage. He guided you away from the obstacles to a place where you could walk unhindered. He moved back from you as soon as he’d finished escorting you.

“You are welcome,” he finally responded. “I am sorry for frightening you. You should get somewhere safe.”

Without waiting for a reply, he left to rejoin the battle. You started retreating from the scene, steering as clear of any large structures as you could, cursing yourself the whole time. Loki had saved you, and you’d been afraid of him. What kind of nonsense was that? And you were certain he got that kind of reaction all the time, based on the way he’d looked at you and realized your bumbling actions were a result of fear. Fear of him after he’d so carefully and gently saved you.

You felt stupid and petty as you joined a throng of people being guided away from the scene. After nearly two years of working to protect the city, Loki should have gotten more praise and love than he did. You realized it now, only moments too late. Someone should tell him he was appreciated, a hero. And if no one else was going to do it, you resolved to do it yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The meeting was dreadfully boring, but someone had to go. Seeing as all the other Avengers were busy, that someone was Loki. Besides, Stark had told him it would be good for his image to head up the restoration of the city this time round. The committee and resources were all a part of Stark Industries, of course, so Loki felt there should be some employee to take care of it instead of him. But whatever, he’d been roped into it now, and he figured that there was some merit to what Tony has said about his reputation.

Luckily, with a week having passed since the battle, great headway had been made with the repairs, and the meeting was much shorter than expected. Itching to get outside, Loki headed to the main doors.

“You don’t understand,” Loki heard someone say to the receptionist as he approached the front desk. “He saved me the other day. I have to thank him. Please?”

Loki just rolled his eyes as he pushed through the turnstile. He couldn’t even begin to count how many fans had tried this tactic to meet their favorite Avengers. Granted, no one had ever tried to see him, but he was coming to terms with it. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder which of his colleagues you were trying to get through to see. Perhaps Steve, or maybe even Thor. Loki was so lost in thought it barely even registered when the voice switched from pleading with the receptionist to calling after him.  

He turned and stopped, recognizing the person jogging after him as you, who he remembered from the battle. “May I help you?” he asked in the most pleasant tone he could manage.

“Yeah. Uh, hi. I don’t know if you remember, but you saved me the other day,” you explained sheepishly. “You know, during the attack.”

“Yes, I recall.”

“Oh! Good. I just wanted to say thank you for that. For saving me, I mean. And the city.”

“I see,” the god replied, suspiciously raising an eyebrow. “Well then, you are welcome. Really, I was just doing my job, though.”

“Well, I still appreciate it.” There was a lapse in the conversation, as neither of you were really sure what to say next. “Can we go somewhere? Like for coffee or something. Can I buy you a coffee?”

Oddly enough, that made Loki distrust the situation even more. Ok, maybe you were actually a super nice person who had a guilty conscience for making him feel bad, and maybe that prompted you to come thank him properly. But that you wanted to buy him something, presumably to show your newfound appreciation? Absolutely preposterous. The only people who ever did something remotely as kind as that were his fellow Avengers, and not even all of them or particularly often. Any of the other people who openly supported him didn’t show appreciation, per se. It was more that they felt he’d done enough to redeem himself at this point, which wasn’t exactly the most thrilling phrasing either. But here you were, awkwardly shuffling your feet and asking to buy him coffee. Loki supposed he shouldn’t pass such an opportunity up. And yet, he probably was going to.

“No thank you,” he finally replied, shaking himself from the shocked, catatonic state he’d fallen into. “I do not much like coffee.”

As he walked away, he thought that would be the end of it. That perhaps you’d only been talking to him in the hopes he’d invite you to see the other Avengers, too. That maybe you’d go back to trying to wheedle your way inside at the front desk. Much to his surprise, you came hurrying after him.

“Wait,” you called. “Ok, so scratch the coffee. How about ice cream or tea or a milkshake or something? Anything really, you name it.”

Now that you were outside, he observed you again while he thought, as if hoping the sunlight would reveal your true intentions. He couldn’t find anything malicious in your expression, just some sort of anxiety. Loki must have taken too long in coming to a decision, because you started rambling.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to pressure you into it or anything, but I wanted to do something nice to say thank you and-” you cut off and bit your lip. “Is this stupid? It sounds stupid. It’s probably stupid. I’ll go now. Again, I’m really sorry to have bothered you.”

“One moment,” he said before you could make your retreat. “You said anything I want, correct?” You eagerly nodded as Loki got an idea. “Alright then. I would like a five course meal at the nicest restaurant in London, please and thank you.”

“I, um. I know I said anything but, uh...” You noticed his serious expression had turned into a sly grin. “You’re joking, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am. My apologies, but I simply could not resist,” he chuckled.

You began to laugh, too. Not in a way that made him think it was out of courtesy or pity, but an honest to goodness laugh. Briefly, he thought it one of the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard, before quickly shaking the idea from his mind. It was ridiculous; he hardly even knew you. But you seemed pretty adamant on showing your gratitude. Plus, you’d apologized to him, which was more than he could say for most of the people in his life.

“You know, I would usually say tea, but a milkshake actually sounds quite lovely right now,” he told you once you’d calmed down. “That is, if the offer is still open.”

“Of course it is!” you happily told him, the smile on your face growing. Not to mention you seemed much more at ease. “I actually know a great diner that’s just a short walk from here, if that works for you.”

“By all means, lead the way.”

It took approximately ten minutes to get to the restaurant. After properly introducing yourselves, you kept up a light dialogue. It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly; just hesitant, as if both of you were afraid of saying the wrong things and shattering the blissful moment. Loki still couldn’t bring himself to fully trust you. Such a feeling just wasn’t in his nature, especially not when it came to someone he just met and had a considerably rocky start with. Even so, he found himself enjoying your company.

Arriving at the diner, Loki held the door open for you as you walked in. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait for a seat, the classic red stools at the bar free at this time of the afternoon. Loki swiveled the seat back and forth ever so slightly, and found himself chuckling when he caught you doing the same thing. You offered him a shy smile as a waitress handed the both of you a menu.

The God of Mischief had only ever had the pleasure of drinking a milkshake once before, a vanilla one when the team had convinced him to try it on one of their outings. He’d thoroughly enjoyed it and planned on playing it safe by ordering the same thing now. When you asked what he was getting, though, you were having none of that. After nearly five minutes of rousing debate, you’d finally talked him up to chocolate. Part of him was having so much fun with the discussion and how animated you became about the topic that he almost didn’t want to concede. But the waitress came back to take your orders, and he didn’t want to make her leave and come back again.

“Oh, and some French fries too please,” you added after ordering your favorite milkshake.

Loki shot you a perplexed look. “French fries?” he asked after the waitress moved away.

“Yeah. Please tell me you’ve heard of them before.”

“I have. I have even eaten them a few times before, believe it or not,” he answered as you turned to face him, leaning on the counter. “But are you certain they go with a milkshake?”

Your jaw dropped open. “Of course they do. Listen, Loki, you haven’t lived until you’ve dipped French fries in a milkshake. You’ll love it, I promise.”

You continued to help him expand his knowledge of Midgardian cuisine as you waited for your order to come. Once it arrived, you dipped a fry in your shake, just as you had said, trying to convince him just how delicious it truly was. The trickster skeptically picked one up and mimicked your actions, plunging it into the frothy liquid. The second it hit his tongue, his face lit up in pure delight.

“See, I told you,” you laughed.

“Indeed you did,” he said back, the corners of his eyes crinkling from how wide his smile was.

An hour and another order of fries later, the two of you finished your snack. Loki was in a better mood than he’d been all month. Honestly, he was a little sad when the bill came.

“Are you certain you do not want me to pay?” he checked as you fished out a twenty from your wallet to cover the low-cost meal. “Or we could split it, at least.”

“Loki, it’s fine,” you giggled. “This is me thanking you, remember? And, honestly, it’s me apologizing, too. I was just startled the other day and there was a lot going on. I hadn’t ever really thought about what I’d do if I met an Avenger, least of all if it happened while they were saving my life. I was overwhelmed; I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about yourself or anything.” Without really thinking about it, your hand moved to rest on top of his. It was a surprise to Loki, but a welcome one. “Because—and I can say this with absolute certainty—you’re amazing, Loki. You do so much for the city. I hope you know how appreciated you are, at least by me.”

His other large hand came to cover yours. “Thank you, darling.” He didn’t mean to say the pet name, but it just slipped out. “I cannot express how much that means to me.”

Somewhere in his heart, he wanted to tell you everything, make you privy to all his inner turmoil. But that was buried underneath years of pain and rejection, too heavy to move for someone he didn’t know all too well, no matter how connected he felt to you in this moment. So he let the urge pass over him, hoping his thanks would be sufficient enough in expressing how he felt.

“You’re welcome, Loki,” you told him, squeezing his hand. Then you stood up. “So, I guess I’ll be letting you get on with your day then. This was really nice, though. Thanks for agreeing to it.”

“You’re welcome and thank you,” he replied. “It really was.”

After waving goodbye to each other, you exited and Loki stayed where he was, picking at the last few nubs of fries left in the basket. He didn’t know exactly why he didn’t leave, too. Just that something was missing.

“Ah, young love,” the elderly waitress who had been serving you all day said to Loki as she came to collect the empty dishes. “Magical, isn’t it?”

“Love?” Loki choked out. “I am afraid you are quite mistaken. It was not even a date. I hardly even know them. I will probably never even see them again.”

“And you’re just gonna let them walk out?” she tsked. “It’s a right shame, sonny. Let me tell you, you don’t just let something like that walk out on ya.”

He looked at the door for a second in melancholic contemplation before bolting out after you. He shouted his thanks to the waitress as he pushed open the glass door, exiting out into the harsh sunlight. As his eyes adjusted, they scanned for your form before it walked out of his life forever. Spotting you, he jogged in your direction and called your name. Funny, he thought, how just earlier that day the roles had been reversed.

“Loki?” you asked, stopped on the sidewalk as he caught up to you. “Are you ok? Did something happen?”

“Actually, the problem is what did not happen.” He kicked a rock with his shoe, as suddenly the ground became very interesting to him. His insides were a nervous mess. Clearing his throat, he gathered his courage to continue. “See, I do not have any way of contacting you again. And it had been my sincere hope that you would want to do this again, let me take you out somewhere.”

“That sounds amazing,” you agreed, jotting down your number on an old receipt you’d found in your wallet. Smirking, you parroted back his words from earlier. “How about you take me for a five course meal in London?”

“Oh, so you have turned my own jokes against me. How very clever of you,” he laughed. “What if we just went to see a movie, instead?”

“Perfect,” you nodded. “Just text me a time and place, and I’ll see you then.”

“I look forward to it. As soon as I buy the tickets, I shall let you know.”

“Sounds awesome! It’s a date.”

As you parted ways, for real this time, it registered in Loki’s mind what you’d said. He hadn’t particularly been thinking about his phrasing or in what way he was asking you to hang out. But apparently you’d taken it as an invitation for a date. As Loki arrived back at the Tower and flopped onto his bed, already dreaming of your laugh, he found he was quite happy that you had.

[fangurk]

She’s Always There (Paul Lahote x Reader)

Key:

Y/n: Your Name

Y/l/n: Your Last Name

Y/n/n: Your Nickname

Y/e/c: Your Eye Color

Y/h/c: Your Hair Color

Prompt Given To Me By @ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhghhhh.tumblr.com: hey!! so the reason I'm messaging is because I wanted to request something but can't fit it all into an ask lmao. anyways could i please request a Paul Lahote x reader where the reader has been super close to the whole pack for years and has been Paul's imprint but doesn't know it (bc Sam thought it would be best to keep u away from it all) and they decide to finally tell you about being shapeshifters and being Paul's imprint and you're so mad about them not telling u earlier and there's a huge argument and they and Paul tries to calm you down but you say stuff like 'leave me alone' and things like that and it sounds like you're rejecting him/the bond in ur angry breakdown. anyways Paul is heartbroken and can't get out of bed or eat or anything so the guys finally convince you to come back bc they and Paul need you and it's just the reader cuddling with him and getting him out of bed to take a shower and eat and he realizes that you're not going anywhere and it's just like healing the imprint bond? sorry for this WALL of text, I've just had this idea stuck in my head for a while lol. if you don't want to do it, that's completely fine!! thank you for your time ♡

ok so my guy,, bc this fic has been stuck in my head for a bit, some scenes have developed? so idk i hope this isn't too much, but if u do write it, would u be willing to add like some angst to it, obvi, and maybe a scene/part lol where when the reader tries to get him to shower (bc the misinterpreted rejection made him like super depressed and he just felt low about himself) he won't shower, because he doesn't want to come out and the reader is gone. so either they shower together (not smutty just angst&fluff) or she sits like in the bathroom while he showers LOL. and when he feels a bit better, they go down to eat and he's touching some part of her at all times. if this is too much to like,, include then that's a-okay. i just need to get this OUT of my MIND ugh lmao!/!

Reader Gender: Female

Summary: The Reader has been friends with most of the pack members for her whole life. Which is why, after months of silence and strange changes, she was willing to let them back into her life— until she finds out she’s been told lies that leave her in danger, of course. After a big freak out and two weeks of avoiding them, the boys come begging for her help; it turns out that Paul has some wolf-y claim on her, and whatever she said to him has left him worse for wear...

Warnings: Mentions of Depression, Nudity, Angst, and Cursing.

A/n: this is literally like a whole novel I’m so sorry I got carried away. this is kinda based on a lot of fics I read where the imprint has the potential to really hurt people and I named Paul’s dad.

Word Count: 2.9k+

“The legends are real!?”

Y/n Y/l/n hasn’t ever been so disturbed in her entire life.

After weeks of radio silence, Sam Uley’s little ‘gang’, mostly consisting of people she’d known since childhood, had slowly trickled back into her life. What started as a grocery run with Paul or a movie with Jared had turned into big bonfire parties including Jacob Black and his gaggle.

But that was months ago. Months. And now, as she sits by a fire, surrounded on either side by them, they decide to tell her their little secret?

“Y/n.” Sam says as she abruptly stands, eyes stern and hand raised placatingly.

His actions only served to upset her more and her skin bristles with irritation. Sam was acting as if she, a human surrounded by shape shifters, was the unstable one. As if she could do any damage to things built to kill vampires.

“Don’t you dare, Sam.” She clenches her fists, glaring right back at him. “It’s been months- months- and you’re telling me now?”

“It’s not exactly an easy thing to bring up.” He reasons, voice a little less demanding. “We all wanted to be sure that you were ready to know.”

“Ready?!” Y/n laughs mirthlessly, y/e/c eyes wide with disbelief, “When was I supposed to be ready Sam? W-when one of you gored me? When a cold one ripped me apart?”

Her hands shake as she puts them on her forehead, blinking back tears. Growing up all she’d ever heard were stories of humans getting dragged into fights between wolf and vampire, and she couldn’t bring herself to look Emily in the eye because it was suddenly apparent that wolves alone could hurt people too.

It was so bad, whatever happened to Emily, that they said a bear mauled her— Y/n didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“It’s not like that, Y/n/n.” Embry chimes in, reaching out to grab his friend's arm.

She yanks her body out of the way and gathers her belongings quickly.

“What is it like then, Call?” She holds her bag to her heaving chest, “because it seems to me that you all have the ability to turn into giant, slobbery freaks that are built for killing vampires and, after completely dropping me for weeks, you decided to keep it secret from me for months. Did it even occur to you that I would’ve been better off knowing right off the bat?!”

No one says anything. Eight shifters and two of their girlfriends sit there, just staring at her like she was speaking a different language.

“You know,” Y/n has to clear her throat to steady her wavering voice, “had you guys really been souped-up on drugs like everyone says, maybe I could’ve handled the lying. But my life was clearly potentially in danger, and you let me hang around without saying anything. I- God I don’t want to see you people right now.”

She leaves with that, stepping over logs and storming back down the beach with determination. Faintly over the roar of her heartbeat, she can hear someone scrambling to stand behind her.

“Wait!— shit, sorry-” Paul grunts, jogging to catch up with her- “Y/n-“

With an unusual gentleness, his warm hand wrapped around her forearm. For a moment, deep in the back of her mind, a foreign feeling tells her to stop, to listen; but that small voice is quickly smothered by the rational part of her brain, and she wrenches her arm from his grip.

“Don’t touch me!” She snaps, lowering her voice, “Leave me alone- I need to be alone.”

Paul stands there, dumbstruck, an unreadable look in his eyes as she walks away. And he’d continue to stand there, looking like a kicked puppy long after her retreating form became a blur amongst the darkness of the beach.

“Paul?” Sam is hesitant, hand hovering over the younger boy’s shoulder a minute before he touches him, “You okay?”

Shrugging his leader’s arm off his shoulder, Paul sighs. “No...I...I’m just gonna head home.”

Instead of going in the directions of the cars, the wolf stalks off toward the woods; Emily stands from her seat, wrapping her sweater more around herself as she watches Paul leave. Concern is written all over her features.

“He’ll be fine, Em,” He pulls her in for a hug, “it’ll all work out eventually.”

ஓ๑♡๑ஓ

Y/n does a good job of avoiding them for a while.

She turns her phone off a few days in and avoids going to First Beach, even when Washington gets a rare, warm summer feel. Books that have sat long forgotten on her shelves get read and TV shows she’s always meant to catch up on get watched; it’s boring and she runs out of options, at one point thinking of dying her hair y/f/c just to spice things up, but it allows her to think. (Or at least it allows this strange little voice in the back of her head to tell her that she needs to go back to them.)

The next time she sees any of the boys is exactly two weeks after the bonfire incident.

She’s curled up on her couch, picking at some of the Clearwaters’ fish fry and barely watching an episode of ANTM, when a fist comes banging down on her door. Turning off the TV, she tiptoes to the window, peeking under the curtain as carefully as she can.

As she expected, Jared Cameron and Embry Call are on her porch, the former standing in front of her door with his hip cocked, the other rooting around in her mother’s plants for something. Cringing, she hopes if she’s quiet enough that they’ll just go away.

Her front door opens within minutes, however, and she realizes her hoping is fruitless.

Should’ve known you can’t hide from wolves, she can’t help but think bitterly.

“Y/n?” Jared calls out through the house, “we know you’re here.”

“Yeah, and you guys should probably move your spare key,” Embry tacks on, flicking the light switch to the living room up, “I've known you forever and it’s still in the same place.”

From her spot by the window, the y/h/c haired girl glares at the two boys, arms crossed over her chest. Embry gives her a lopsided grin and holds the key out to her, his bud plopping down on the couch and pulling her abandoned plate into his lap.

Y/n extends a hand to take the key.

“Has it really been in the same place?” She sounds a little more defeated than she’d like.

“Yeah, it’s always been in your mother’s cornflower pot.”

“That’s...kinda sad.” She wrinkles her nose, pocketing the key with the intention to hide it better later, “but uh, I’ve been ignoring you for two weeks for a reason. Peacefully breaking into my house kinda furthers my need for space.”

Embry scratches the back of his neck.

“Well,” He says, “we need you to come back, man. Paul won’t talk to anyone- Sam doesn’t know if he’s eating, and he won’t even get out of bed for patrol! He needs his imprint-”

“His what?” She cocks her head to the side and Jared snorts from the couch.

“She left before we got there, nimrod,” Jared mocks through a mouthful of food, “she doesn’t know what an imprint is.”

He lets out an indignant “Hey!” as Y/n walks by, snatching her plate back from him on her way to the kitchen. Embry chases after her, a grumpy Jared jumping up from the couch to follow.

“You’re his imprint— you’re basically his soulmate!”

“Really?” She says warily, sealing the fish and putting it back in the fridge.

Both boys nod clumsily.

“You remember a few weeks ago when you saw each other for the first time again and he kinda just stood there like an idiot while you talked?”

“Yeah? Oh!-” She brings her hands up to her mouth, brows furrowed as she recalls.

It was exactly Jared had said. She and Paul had seen one another for the first time in a long time and the minute her y/e/c eyes looked into his, it was like he’d been struck dumb.

Embry gives her an encouraging look, “An imprint is...It's not like love at first sight, really. It's more like… gravity moves… suddenly. It's not the earth holding you here anymore, she does… You become whatever she needs you to be, whether that's a protector, or a lover, or a friend. When you snapped at him last week he thought you were rejecting him….”

A part of her thought about how absurd it was that he knew that whole speech. But the bigger part of her came to a realization that made her stomach churn.

“So he's all depressed… because… of me?” She whispers, leaning back on the counter.

Embry, always a rather sympathetic person, opens his mouth to comfort her, but Jared cuts him off.

“Basically. So are you going to come with us so we can help Paul or are you going to continue being petty?”

In any other circumstance, Y/n probably would’ve thrown something at her for calling her petty. She felt she was completely justified in her actions. A part of her wonders if she can really believe them— they’d spent months lying to her after all. But a larger part thinks about Paul, curled up in his bed, slowly desecrating because he thinks she rejected him.

If it were really all some ploy to get her to listen to them, then she’d at least be the person who chose the well-being of her friend over a petty disagreement.

“I’m coming.” She affirms, pushing herself off the counter, and letting the boys lead her to the car.

ஓ๑♡๑ஓ

Jared and Embry drop her off in front of the Lahote household. They tell her something but she can’t really hear them over her heartbeat, she doesn’t even know they’re gone until it’s too late to turn back.

Getting into the house wasn’t the hard part. Paul’s father, Cyrus, had been leaving as she arrived, and, after he watched her stare at the house with a fearful expression for a few minutes, he happily let her in. The hard part was willing her legs to take her up the stairs to Paul’s room, and then it was opening his bedroom door.

Y/n has known Paul since they were eight, but she was afraid of him until they were eleven. He wasn’t mean, per se, but his anger made him do mean things; she wasn’t entirely happy with puberty and it’s monthly gifts, but whatever it did to make her suddenly un-afraid of him she was grateful for. But now, standing in front of his bedroom door, she had a nagging fear that Paul would revert to that eight year old boy who threw lunch boxes and twisted arms behind backs until people cried.

The door creaks slightly as she struggles to push it open.

His room is almost completely dark except for the light coming from the hallway behind her. Trash and dirty clothes have formed a compact layer on his bedroom floor, foot sized holes leading up to the twin sized bed in the corner. On the bed, amongst the blankets she’s sure he doesn’t need, is Paul— or at least, a Paul sized lump.

As gross as it is, she’s kind of relieved he’s been eating.

“Paul?” She whispers tentatively, stepping toward the bed.

The lump flinches and turns toward her.

“Y/n?”

If the room and the description of his state weren’t heartbreaking enough, his voice definitely was. Hollow, rough, and small, everything it never was, everything Paul wasn’t.

“Is that you?”

“Yeah...it’s me..”

She carefully steps over to the bed, and Paul slowly sits up, pushing his blankets to the side. There’s a beat of silence as she stands between his legs, his reluctant hands coming to rest on her waist after a minute. Y/n let’s him have another to gather his thoughts.

“You really came…” Tears well up in his eyes and loops his arms around her back.

She runs a hand through his hair. “I did, and I’m so sorry, if I had known—”

Paul nuzzles her stomach, “S’fine, you didn’t know, and you’re here now.”

There’s a sort of cute, euphoria lacing his voice and he’s visibly much more relaxed.

“Just don’t ever say that again…”

“I won’t, I promise.”

She’s surprised when he manhandles her into his lap, but she doesn’t really mind. He’s warm and strangely familiar and something about it just— clicks.

“When was the last time you spent, I dunno, a minute or two out of your room?” Y/n asks softly, y/e/c eyes glancing about the room.

The shifter’s only response is a shrug, too busy nosing around her neck with vigor. When he finds a certain spot, it makes her squeak, and this seems to excite him like a puppy finding out its favorite toy makes noise.

“You need to bathe, eat something substantial,” She intertwines their fingers, “and the...pack...they’re really worried about you— are you even listening to me?”

He looks up at her then and flashes her a sheepish smile, answering her question. Pursing her lips, she pulls his arms from around her.

“C’mon, Paul.” She stands up and takes his hand. “We’re gonna get you cleaned up.”

She moves toward the door, urging him forward, only to be jerked to a stop as he stays put. He looks a little distressed when she turns back to him, brows furrowed, almost like he’s in pain.

“Paul?”

He grunts, jaw clenched as the cogs turn in his head. Y/n cocks her head and reaches out for his other hand. It felt like some sort of supernatural intuition, one she’ll blame on the imprint and ask Emily about later.

“Paul, hon, why won’t you come shower?”

“I’m afraid you'll leave,” He says bashfully, “it’s stupid, I know, but part of me is afraid you’ll leave while I’m in the shower.”

Y/n couldn’t help but feel a little heartbroken at his confession. Paul was part wolf, and part of being part wolf was imprinting— she almost wishes she’d have stayed long enough to listen, or been able to focus as the boys debriefed her on the ride over because only being able to speculate how much she’d actually hurt him was eating her alive. He wouldn’t even shower, something he desperately needed to do, because of what she’d said.

Taking a deep breath, she barely registers the words she’s about to say.

“I’ll wait with you, I’ll sit on the toilet, you’ll see me there.”

And true to her word, Y/n does sit on the toilet while Paul showers, reading the information on soap bottles to distract herself from the fact that he was there next to her, very naked. Occasionally he asks her what she’s doing, and she reads the ingredients out loud to the best of her ability, and he laughs a little— she tries to hide her smile, but she was too happy he was laughing.

She closes her eyes when he gets out, letting him dry himself off and pull on some clean shorts. He throws the wet towel at her when he’s done, eliciting a “Hey!” that makes him laugh again.

Now that he’s clean, the two of them descend into his quiet house. Y/n navigates the kitchen, her wolf attached to her hip and being less than helpful, and makes them both something to eat— he doesn’t do much more than stand behind her, wrapped around her, making her life more difficult.

“I’m so happy you came back.” He says, watching her work.

“I was always going to.” Y/n responds, her voice sure and steady.

They talk as they eat, sitting across from one another at the too big table in the Lahote household. Talk about how this was going to work, admitting feelings that always lingered, and everything in between; she hooks her leg around his, watching him scarf down his meal with a wrinkled nose and fondness glittering in her y/e/c eyes.

He’s...gross...but he’s hers, she’s kind of stuck with him.

A date is planned. An actual date.

Paul promises to take her to the local diner (and to wear a shirt, for once.)

“I’ve been saving up for something like this.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and you can get that dessert you like.”

Y/n laughs softly, but heat spreads up her neck and settles in her ears and cheeks. It’d been a long time since that had been her favorite food, but it was the thought that counted...

When Cyrus Lahote returns from work later that night his son and the Y/l/n girl are awkwardly situated on his couch— him on his back, snoring, her lying on top of him, face tucked into his neck, also fast asleep. The older man turns off the TV and tosses a blanket over the pair, ascending up the stairs with a smile on his face.

Y/n Y/l/n was trustworthy. She’s always there when Paul is in a rut too big for him to handle...

[haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles]

you weren’t supposed to hear that (F! reader)

A collection of instances where your roommate hears you moaning their name whilst your fingers are between your legs. Or your neighbor. Or maybe you walk in on them saying your name. Take your pick 😈

warnings: NSFW, manga spoilers (in terms of what the boys do post timeskip) words: 9.7k (oops)

a/n: wow it’s been awhile since I wrote one of these!! This has been half finished for a while and i finally got the inspiration to complete it. please enjoy!! 💖

Other parts: Kuroo | Sakusa

Ushijima Wakatoshi 

Being Ushijima’s roommate is fairly simple. He’s easy to get along with once you get past his jarring frankness and strict regime. Seriously, the guy never changes his routine; working out at 6am, breakfast at 8, leaving for practice at 9, home at 5, dinner at 7, and in bed by 9 o’clock. He’s a machine, but you don’t mind his predictability. It certainly makes your life easier being able to plan around his tried-and-true schedule.

You saw his ad for a roommate a few months ago when you were desperate to get out of your parents’ house and into the world. They weren’t too keen on the idea of you living with a man, but upon meeting Ushijima, they changed their minds quickly. Neither of them able to believe that stoic Ushijima Wakatoshi would ever lay a hand on you. Plus, the deal was far too good to pass up, he is seriously underselling the room you’re currently renting; and there’s the bonus that he’s frequently absent at away games, leaving the entire apartment for you to enjoy alone.

You learned quickly to keep your mouth shut on who exactly your roommate is, never inviting anyone over anymore in fear of them finding out from the various volleyball paraphernalia Ushijima so sparsely decorates the apartment with. It became difficult for you to tell if people you just met actually liked you, or if they just wanted a glimpse of the infamous Ushijima Wakatoshi and maybe an autograph. And don’t even get you started on his fangirls that he’s so oblivious about.

To your surprise, he was indifferent about having a roommate of the opposite sex. You thought for sure he’d try to ‘keep your honor’ or some shit like that, but all he’d asked you was what your job was to make sure you can pay rent, if you were tidy, and if you didn’t mind being alone. He’d seemed satisfied with your answers, and you’d moved in the following week.

The first and only time Ushijima has someone over, you get home from work surprised to see an interesting looking character standing in the kitchen across from him. They both look up at you, Ushijima giving you a slight nod in greeting while a wide smile spreads across his friends’ face.

“Ushiwaka! You didn’t mention your roommate is that pretty!”

Ushijima blinks as if he’s never considered that about you before, while you chuckle. “Ushi…waka?” You don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone refer to him in such a casual manner before.

The red-head beams, slinging an arm around Ushijima that he surprisingly allows. “Yup, me and Wakatoshi have been friends since high school!”

Now it’s your turn to blink, never having expected Ushijima to have friends outside of volleyball. Especially not ones who call him by his first name. In fact, you don’t even know if he considers any of his teammate’s friends either. He doesn’t spend any time with them outside of volleyball (that you know of) and so far, this is the first person he’s brought to the apartment since you moved in.

“Well,” the visitor nudges Ushijima in the side, who’s expression hasn’t changed throughout this entire interaction. “Are you going to introduce me or what?”

Finally, Ushijima speaks, his deep voice rumbling through your chest as he says, “This is Tendo, we played volleyball together in high school.” He doesn’t show it, but he notices your piqued interest at that information.

“Oh?” You say, “Do you still play?”

Tendo waves his hand dismissively, “Nah, it wasn’t for me. And I’m nothing compared to golden boy over here.”

You try to hide your amusement. This is definitely not what you were expecting from one of Ushijima’s friends. Tendo is rather enjoyable and chatty, much unlike the stone of a man sitting beside him.

“Tendo is a chocolatier in Paris,” Ushijima supplies.

Now you can’t hide your surprise. “Wow! That’s really amazing. What are you doing in Japan then?”

“Just visiting,” he beams. “And of course, I had to see my best friend Wakatoshi-kun.”

“Are you going to his game tomorrow?” You ask, ignoring the way Ushijima’s attention focuses on you. He didn’t think you paid much attention to his volleyball schedule besides when he’s going to be away.

Tendo nods excitedly. “Wouldn’t miss it! You should come too!”

You open your mouth to give some excuse, but then close it again at Tendo’s expectant expression. You bite your lip nervously; in the time you’ve been living with Ushijima you’ve never once actually seen him play. There’s a part of you that avoids it, fearful you might become one of his dreaded fangirls. But you can’t refuse Tendo’s invitation, and to Ushijima’s surprise, you agree to attend.

Clapping his hands together Tendo says, “We get to sit in Ushiwaka’s special seats! Maybe I’ll bring some chocolates for us to snack on…” And when he sees your eyes light up at that, he smiles again, “Chocolate for the lady, done.”

You laugh, and then Tendo is seeing himself out, telling you he can’t wait to see you both tomorrow. And once he’s gone, you can’t help feeling like you don’t know what to with yourself now. Not with Ushijima’s stare boring into your back. After a minute he says, “You don’t have to come.”

And if this had been the first week you’d known him, you might’ve taken that a little personally. But knowing him, he thinks he’s just stating something. He doesn’t see how it can be interpreted as him not wanting you there. “No, it sounds fun! And Tendo seems nice.”

“Tendo is very kind,” he states, and you have to resist the urge to chuckle at him. Ushijima is not a man of words and if that had come out of anyone else’s mouth you would’ve thought they were little strange. But in the months of living with him, despite your limited interactions, you’ve gotten used to his mannerisms.

Looking away from him, you start retreating down the hallway to the safety of your room, but before you disappear you say one more thing. “Plus, I’ve never seen you play.” Then you’re gone, not to be seen for the rest of the night. You don’t see him watch you until you’re out of sight. If you had, you would’ve been shocked by his dumbfounded expression at how the small smile you gave him made his heart stutter for a moment.  

Ushijima has to leave much earlier than you do for the game, but he informs you that Tendo will be by to pick you up and go to the game together. Then, for the first time probably ever, he bids you goodbye and tells you he’ll see you afterwards.

Tendo comes by the apartment a few hours later, sporting an Ushijima jersey and a box of chocolates he asks to hide in your bag. For having just met him yesterday, he easily leads the conversation, asking you all sorts of things—though he seems particularly interested in your relationship with Ushijima. You try to assure him it’s nothing. Really, you aren’t even sure if you can consider Ushijima your friend. Right now, you’re pretty much strictly roommates and that’s it.

When you let it slip that you’ve never seen Ushijima play, Tendo is shocked. “Really? Not even on TV or anything?”

You shake your head. “Nope! I guess I never thought of it.” The lie slips through your teeth easily and Tendo doesn’t bat an eye at it.

Though he does grin telling you, “You’re in for a treat then! Have you ever watched volleyball at all?”

Your regretfully admit to him that no—you’ve never seen a game. You do vaguely remember the rules from high school, but they’re a bit fuzzy now. Tendo tells you not to worry and spends the rest of the train ride to the stadium filling you in on all the aspects of volleyball. And the more he talks, the more excited you get.

When you finally enter the stadium, Tendo is amusingly proud to show off your VIP tickets to be allowed entrance to the special seats reserved solely for Ushijima’s guests. To your delight, they’re some of the best seats in the house and you and Tendo get to work on the chocolates you snuck in while you wait for the game to start. Already the stadium is buzzing with excitement and you can feel your own continue to grow.

Meanwhile, Ushijima hasn’t said a word that he has visitors today. So, it comes as a complete surprise to his teammates when a chorus of cheers erupts from his seats when he enters the stadium. He doesn’t take note of how shocked his teammates are—he’s never had any spectators before. And none of them ever expected one of them to be a girl.

“So, who’re your friends?” Heiwajima asks during warm-ups, nudging Ushijima in the side and motioning his head towards you and Tendo.

“Isn’t that Tendo-san?” Kageyama notes, his own eyes up in the stands.

Without looking upwards, Ushijima replies, “It is.”

Heiwajima rolls his eyes. “Yeah, we aren’t so interested in him as we are the beauty sitting next to him.”

Now Ushijima lifts his attention, eyes drifting to you. He hasn’t told anyone on the team he has a roommate. Not because he has any reason to hide you, but there has never been a reason for him to bring you up. So, he doesn’t think much of it when he says, “That’s my roommate.” And then introduces you.

Everyone on the teams’ eyes nearly bug out of their heads at that information.

“Ushijima, you bastard!”

His brow furrows. Why is he a bastard? You’re just his roommate. And he never lied to anyone about you, nobody ever asked.

“Keeping that a secret from us this whole time!”

He ponders that. He wasn’t really trying to keep any secret. “It’s not a secret,” he says. “You never asked.”

The team guffaws at him and continues to grill him about you until Hirugami claps his hands and tells everyone to focus on the match. They’ll have plenty of time to discuss Ushijima’s secret roommate later. Again, Ushijima tries to explain it you were never a secret, but Hirugami brushes him off and tells him to start spiking warm-ups.

It isn’t hard for him to ignore you and Tendo during the game. He’s used to having nobody here for him, so he just treats it like any other day. It’s nothing special, he’ll play the way he usually does. Meanwhile, up in the stands, you can’t keep your eyes off him. You finally see why he works so hard, and maybe understand him a bit better.

He loves volleyball, you know that—but seeing him in action really drives it home. He’s a machine. Every time he serves or spikes you swear the other team’s arms are going to rip off from the force of the ball. And the sound that ricochets in the stadium when the ball connects solidly with the floor is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. It’s like a clap of thunder rattling your bones and before you know it, you’re cheering loudly alongside Tendo with no qualms.

It’s exciting being here. You can feel your heart racing in your chest each time the Adlers or the other team is at a critical point, and sometimes you catch yourself holding your breath in anticipation for the outcome. You never thought watching a sport could be so thrilling.

And Ushijima is incredible. You suspected as much, but actually watching him for the first time is something else. You can’t help gobbling up the sight of him, his powerful thighs thrusting him into the air when he jumps, his biceps on display when his hand connects with the ball—and above it all, that sharp look in his eyes that sends goosebumps prickling down your spine without your permission. If Tendo notices you shamelessly ogling your roommate at all, he doesn’t comment.

He's oblivious to the fact he’s actually playing a lot more intensely than he usually does. Which some of his teammates never imagined possible. And most of them, besides the clueless ones alongside Ushijima, have a pretty good idea what’s different about this game. Though they can’t pinpoint if it’s just a result of having spectators in general, or if it’s you specifically.

The Adlers come out victorious after four hard sets, winning the first and second, but then having to snag the win in the fourth. You watch as the team gets swarmed by reporters looking for a post-game interview and Tendo tugs on your arm telling you that Ushijima is going to meet you by the locker room. You must give him a surprised look because he holds up the card dangling around his neck with a grin. “VIP, remember?” You giggle and follow him out.

In the locker room, Heiwajima and others try desperately to invite him, you, and Tendo out with them after the game. But he has to decline, you three already have plans. And he doesn’t wait around to see their disappointed expressions as he heads out of the room to look for you and Tendo. He finds the two of you nearby and once you catch sight of him, a smile splits your face in two.

“That was amazing, Ushijima! I’ve never had so much fun watching a sport before!” You gush once he’s in earshot.

“Volleyball is very fun.” He nods as the three of you head towards the exit. Ushijima purposefully avoids the spots he knows he is likely to be ambushed by reporters or fans, opting for a back exit instead that he sometimes uses when he wants to make a quiet escape.

“I had no idea being left-handed was such an advantage! Tendo told me it really throws people off apparently.”

Tendo sneaks him a smile and then throws an arm around his shoulder. “So, where is the great Ushiwaka takin’ us for dinner?”

You end up at a nice restaurant not too far away, and of course Ushijima gets recognized a couple times being this close to the stadium. He politely agrees to autographs and declines photos, seemingly unaware to the fact they’re just taking them secretly when they return to their tables. And while you’re waiting for your food to arrive, you can’t seem to stop talking about volleyball. Admitting that you’ll probably watch a few more of his games from home now and even cover your face in embarrassment when Tendo suggests you get your own Ushijima jersey to wear in support.

It’s then that Ushijima realizes he very much enjoys listening to you talk about what you thought of volleyball. Though he does feel heat creeping up his neck at the thought of you wearing one of his jerseys. All the while, Tendo is sitting beside you smirking up a storm, and Ushijima can’t for the life of him place why.

After dinner, when you’re walking a bit ahead of them and out of earshot, Tendo nudges him playfully in the side. “She’s pretty great, right?”

He looks at your back, expression unchanging. “She’s a good roommate.”

Tendo groans dramatically. “No blockhead—like, she’s pretty great, if you know what I mean.”

He blinks. “Do you want to ask her out?” Tendo can’t help slapping himself on the forehead. Who was he to think that Ushijima has any idea you are available, and he has a very high chance with you?

“Not me,” Tendo spells out slowly. “You.”

“I don’t want to ask her out.”

Tendo’s thin brows lift. “Are you sure about that?”

Tendo doesn’t miss his slight hesitation before he says, “Yes.”

And he doesn’t—you’re his roommate, and a good one. He likes having you around, but not the way Tendo seems to think.

But Tendo isn’t convinced. “Okay~,” he sing-songs before skipping up to loop his arms through yours and make you laugh about something. Ushijima thinks about that for a few minutes, why doesn’t Tendo believe him?

~

When you first moved in, it took a few weeks to get accustomed to each other. But once you figured out his schedule it became a lot easier. You know exactly when to hide in your room if you want to avoid him and when to come out once he’s gone. After going to his volleyball game, you especially try to avoid him during the times he’s walking down the hallway towards the shower, damp with sweat from a workout. Your brain can’t seem to function seeing him slick with the shine of sweat, his hair clinging to his forehead, and a towel draped around his neck—it’s too much for you, as much as you hate to admit.

But one week, you swear he’s on a warpath to make you a stuttering, flustered mess. Despite knowing the fact you’re certain Ushijima has no clue he can have that effect on people, much less do it on purpose. But every single day he’s waltzing around the apartment without a shirt on and while he doesn’t seem to see the problem with it, you don’t think your heart can take it much more.

And it’s the final straw when you see him a few days later, a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin as he saunters across the apartment from his home gym towards the bathroom in the hallway. All while you’re standing dumbfounded in the kitchen trying really hard not to get caught staring at his enormous biceps or the way the shine of sweat accentuates the dips of his abdomen. It’s in this moment you can truly understand why he has so many fans despite his rather stone-like demeanor.

“You have got to put a shirt on,” you blurt when he’s halfway across, knowing this will turn into some dangerous territory if he keeps walking around the apartment half-naked.

He stops in his tracks, his head cocking the only indication he’s confused by your statement. “I don’t want to wear a sweaty shirt,” he says by way of explanation. He doesn’t seem to notice your flustered expression. “I might catch a cold.”

You resist the urge to groan and slap yourself on the forehead. “Fine, then I’m wearing whatever I want around the apartment,” you say, determined to make him realize why he can’t just walk around like that. Though knowing Ushijima, you’ll never get through that thick skull of his.

And as you suspect, he simply replies, “Alright.” Before disappearing into the hallway and the bathroom to take a shower.

You lower your forehead to rest it on the cool countertop, shaking your head at how dense he really is. And you’re beginning to realize you think it’s endearing. While his infuriatingly toned body may be a major perk, you’re starting to see that you like him too. Now you actually groan. You swore this would never happen—not with Ushijima at least. But here you are.

After that, you make a pointed effort to wear the shortest shorts you can possibly find whenever he’s around. And you purposefully pair them with an oversized shirt, so it doesn’t look like you’re wearing pants at all. But if it has any effect on Ushijima, you can’t tell. You can’t help cursing his dumb impassive expression every time you retreat to your room for the night. Seriously—is he swayed by anything ever?

However, Ushijima hardly knows what to do with himself the first time you strutted out like that. He might be dense, but he’s still only human. His eyes naturally span down the expanse of your exposed legs and he has to grip his water bottle like a vice in order to keep it from clattering into the sink when you rise to your tiptoes to grab something from the top shelf. Your shorts ride up even more, hugging the curves of your ass as you stick it out to balance yourself.

You let out a surprised sound when he appears behind you, easily picking up the thing you were vying for and handing it to you without so much as a word.

“I really need a stepstool or something, huh?” You joke, taking it from him gratefully and blissfully unaware he was just blatantly staring at your ass.

He doesn’t say anything, but the next week you find a small stepstool leaning against the cabinets for you.

~

Staring at your phone in your hands, you thank any god listening that you brought it with you. How stupid do you have to be to lock yourself out of your apartment when you’re taking the trash out? Sitting on the floor against your door, you lean your head back on it and let out an exasperated sigh. You already went down to the office for help, they called a locksmith, and they aren’t available until tonight. And by that time, Ushijima will be home from practice and you won’t need the service anyways.

You have several options here. You could call a friend and stay with them until Ushijima gets back from practice, but they all live too far to walk to, and you don’t have your wallet. You could hang out in the apartment buildings lobby until he gets home, but if your phone dies, you’re stuck with nothing to do and no way to contact anyone.

The last option is slowly beginning to seem like your only option: calling Ushijima at practice for help. Burying your face into your hands you groan—you really don’t want to do that. Plus, you doubt he’s going to answer his phone anyways. After you sit there for a few more minutes, you take a deep breath and steel your courage. Leaving a message is better than nothing.

Despite deciding to call him, you still stare at his contact for a few moments before finally pressing the ‘call’ button. It rings a few times, then unsurprisingly goes to voicemail. When it beeps for you to leave your message, you swallow your pride and say, “Hey Ushijima, I know you’re at practice, but I locked myself out of the apartment…and the locksmith can’t come until tonight. If you by any chance get a break, would you be able to let me back in? I’d really appreciate it…sorry for the inconvenience and disrupting practice!”

Then you hang up and slump against the door again. Might as well head down to the lobby to sit somewhere more comfortable than the hallway floor. You turn the brightness down on your phone to conserve battery and resist the urge to just sit in the lobby scrolling through social media to pass the time. If he by some stroke of luck calls you back, you want to make sure your phone isn’t dead.

“Hey Ushijima, your phone was ringing in the locker room while I was in the bathroom. It was your roommate~,” Heiwajima teases. Ushijima slowly looks past his shoulder back towards the locker room door—that’s odd. You’ve never called him before. “And she left a message!” He coos.

Before Heiwajima can make any more comments, Ushijima strides past him to check his phone. They’re taking a short break and he doesn’t see a problem with making sure everything is alright. You wouldn’t have called if it weren’t important. He doesn’t see the rest of the team share suggestive looks behind his back. Before you, Ushijima refused to check his phone during practice, no matter how many messages he had (which are few and far between but still).

Upon hearing your message, he calls you back immediately.

You’re shocked that he’s calling you back within a half hour of your call.

“Uh, hi,” you say upon answering the call. “Sorry for bothering you. I’m surprised you saw my message so fast.”

“Heiwajima heard my phone ringing while he was in the bathroom.”

“Lucky me,” you joke.

He gets straight to the point. “I’ll leave now.”

Your eyes widen. He’s going to leave practice right now to let you back in? “Oh—um, you don’t have to do that! I’m just waiting in the lobby; I can wait until you have a longer break or something!”

“I can come now,” he says plainly. Then he hangs up on you. You sit back in the chair you’re sitting in and huff out a breath speechless. Never once has Ushijima left practice early. And now he’s just dipping out without hesitation because you’re a major idiot? You can’t fathom it, and the little voice in the back of your head that’s been slowly falling for him is absolutely swooning at the thought.

When he enters the gym again, Heiwajima finds him immediately, while the other members of the team look curiously on as he asks, “So, what’d she want?” Immensely interested in the fact that judging from his sweatpants and jacket over his practice clothes, Ushijima looks like he’s about to leave.

“She’s locked out of the apartment,” Ushijima explains as he heads towards the door.

The team looks around at each other surprised. They don’t get another word in as Ushijima explains to the coach the situation and says he’ll be back in less than hour. Then he’s out the door and a few of them start chuckling to themselves, while the more clueless members wonder why in the world Ushijima would willingly leave.

The gym isn’t far from the apartment, so it’s not long until you see Ushijima step through the front doors and sweep his gaze across the lobby. You greet him right away and the two of you get in the elevator. The silence is unbearable for you—though you’re sure he’s completely fine with it.

When you reach the door and he lets you in, you finally say, “Thank you. You really didn’t have to leave practice though; I could have waited.”

You swear his eyes soften, but it might just be your eyes playing tricks on you. He appreciates that you are being considerate for his time, but he found he wasn’t keen on the thought of you being locked out. It didn’t sit right with him. Not when he’s only 20 minutes away. He’ll be back in under an hour, and that’s better than you just sitting out here for several hours.

He just nods his head and says, “I’ll come anytime.”

At those words, that voice inside your head becomes a pathetic puddle and it’s an effort to keep your knees underneath you.

He can’t explain the way his heart lifts at the smile you give him. Stepping backwards into the apartment, you say as you’re closing the door, “See you when you get home.”

Home.

He’s surprised how that word coming out of your mouth makes him feel.

~

Any feeling of domesticity is thrown out the window the morning you’re walking around the apartment in one of his sweatshirts he lent you a few weeks back when you were cold. He’s stops in his tracks in the hallway seeing you in the kitchen at the stove cooking breakfast, his sweatshirt too big for you covering your shorts and just brushing your bare thighs.

Without giving him the chance to quell it, against his will, his dick strains against the front of his sweatpants and he rushes out the door with barely a goodbye in hopes you don’t see it. It doesn’t even go away on the train on the way to the gym, no matter how hard he tries. His thoughts subconsciously drift to the sight of you and how soft your thighs looked. It’s shocking to him how much he liked seeing you in his clothes. It was the same sort of sensation he felt when Tendo suggested you get yourself an Ushijima jersey—only it’s a hundred times worse.

He tries to ignore it, walking into the locker room like nothing is wrong, stripping his sweatpants and jacket off and shoving them into his locker before he looks around and sees Heiwajima staring at him with raised eyebrows. Then his eyes pointedly look downwards before he lifts them to meet Ushijima’s again. “You wanna deal with that before practice?”

“It’s fine.” He’s sure it’ll go away once he starts warming up.

But then his thoughts drift to you warming up and stretching in his clothes. You bending over, his sweatshirt sliding up your chest, revealing more of your ass and thighs as you count to ten. And any sort of effort he’d put forth to settle down is destroyed as his shorts feel uncomfortably tight. What is going on with him? He hasn’t been able to stop thinking of you as of late, and it’s only been getting worse.

Heiwajima just starts laughing. “Seriously dude, nobody wants to look at that all day.” Then he motions his head in the direction of the showers.

Ushijima’s eyes widen, realizing just what he’s suggesting. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually concedes. He won’t be able to play like this. Nobody seems to care as Ushijima grabs his towel and heads off to the showers, despite feeling distraught about what he’s about to do. He’s never really been one for masturbating, so it surprises him how easy it is to let you in his sweatshirt come to mind as he wraps a hand around his cock. And he comes a lot faster than he expects too.

That’s the first time he jerks off to the thought of you. He tries to brush it off as a necessity for him in order to practice well that day, but it soon becomes a terrible habit he can’t stop. Especially when you keep doing things that make him uncomfortably hard. Like still wearing those tiny shorts around the apartment, doing yoga in the living room, showing him your Ushijima jersey you finally ordered online—seriously, never in his life did he think this would ever become a problem.

He hardly knows what do with himself at this new infatuation.

~

Recently, you’ve started going out on dates because you’re beginning to feel this strange tension between you and Ushijima, and you have no idea how to deal with it besides letting some other guy pound you into a mattress while you ashamedly picture it being Ushijima instead. One night, when you’re bidding him goodbye as you’re on your way out the door, he asks you, “Will you be home tonight?”

Your heart stutters a bit at that word. Home. And then you feel disgustingly guilty that he’s noticed you don’t usually come back after these dates. Meaning you think even he can put the dots together on what you’re doing.

But really, he’s asking because what you’re wearing is already making his pants feel tight and even though it makes him feel a little ashamed, he needs to get his frustration out somewhere that you’re out spending the night with other guys. It makes him feel incredibly jealous—an emotion he’s not used to yet.

“Probably not,” you tell him, swallowing your pride about it and shutting the door.

For the next couple of hours, he tries to resist the demon in his head telling him to go sprawl out on his bed and think about you with his hand wrapped around his cock. But even after he makes dinner, works out, and takes a cold shower; it’s still there nagging at the back of his head. And he knows it won’t go away until he’s coming into his hand with your name spilling from his lips. He resigns himself to this becoming something he does now and heads off to his bedroom to satiate himself.

Your date is terrible. He wasn’t like this when you met him at the coffee shop last week, but tonight he must be feeling extra lucky. Enough to let his cocky, asshole nature shine through and you find yourself forcibly smiling your way through dinner. It doesn’t help that all you can think about is a certain stone-faced, stoic, gentleman who’s just sitting there waiting for you at your apartment. And just the thought of letting this guy touch you tonight makes your skin crawl. So, once the dinner is over, you end the date short, blaming it on not feeling well. He looks pretty put out that he won’t be getting his dick wet tonight, but you’re not inclined to care very much.

Unsurprisingly, the apartment is dark when you return. Ushijima goes to bed promptly at 9 o’clock every night, so you weren’t expecting to find him awake. So, you’re stunned into silence when you hear sounds emitting from his room on your way to yours. It sounds like he’s…panting? Is he working out?

Your brow furrows and your curiosity gets the better of you. You know it’s wrong, and such an invasion of privacy, but you just can’t stop your fingers closing around his doorknob, turning it slowly to just get a tiny peek into his room.

Your heart comes to a jarring halt at the sight you stumble upon.

Never, in your entire life, did you think you’d catch Ushijima Wakatoshi masturbating.

It never even occurred to you that is something he might do, not really seeming the type to.

And holy shit—is it a sight.

Your mouth involuntarily dries up at his enormous hand wrapped around his equally massive cock, pumping it from base to tip as his hips work in unison with his hand. His hair is a bit damp, and fuck—his cloudy, lust-filled gaze is making heat pool in your core. Additionally, he’s completely and utterly naked. Who the hell jerks off totally naked is beyond you, but you aren’t complaining as you watch the way the muscles of his abdomen ripple with each movement of his hips and breath he takes.

You could probably stand here watching him do this forever if you’re being honest.  

That is, until your name falls from his lips.

You swear the floor drops out from under you.

At first, you think he’s caught you. But you soon realize that is very much not the case. His hips start shuddering, his pace becoming erratic as he chases his orgasm and you’re suddenly struck by the thought of: you don’t want him to finish without you.

And before you can hesitate, you open his door fully and step into his bedroom.

His reaction is nothing like you imagined from someone who just got caught masturbating by their roommate who’s name not two seconds ago escaped his mouth. Anyone else would have yanked their hand away and scrambled to cover up. But not Ushijima.

To his credit, he does cover himself, but he does so in such a calm manner, you’re shocked. Plus, you can see he clearly still has his hand around his cock beneath the blanket. The two of you just look at each other for a few moments, and after what seems like eons of silence, he opens his mouth and says, “You said you weren’t going to be home.”

Your brows raise, amused he’s chosen that as his defense. “I think I said, ‘probably not’ actually.”

His expression doesn’t change as your gaze drifts downwards towards his impressive erection that somehow has not gone away despite that he’s lying there in all his naked glory caught red-handed.

You lick your lips subconsciously. “Can I help you?”

He wasn’t expecting that. Nor was he expecting the way his dick twitched in his grasp at your words. Or how heat is spreading across his entire body at the way you’re looking at him. Is he really going to let this happen? He’s pretty embarrassed you caught him, but you don’t seem phased at all. To him, you almost look…excited.

You don’t really wait for him to respond, taking the way he eyes you up hungrily as a yes, and stepping further into the room. Tentatively, you start lifting away the blanket he covered himself with, and he seems to be in a daze as you toss it aside, baring him for you to see. Glancing up at him, you see he’s breathing heavily, his pupils blown wide as he watches you—and while he may not be able to tell you with words how he feels, his body is telling you enough.

But you still want to make sure. Settling yourself between his thighs, you set a hand on each of them and squeeze lightly to get his attention. His olive gaze rises to meet yours and you ask, “Is this okay?”

Without hesitation, he replies, “Yes.”

And if you know Ushijima at all, he means what he says.

You get yourself a bit more comfortable between his legs, chastely kissing each of his thighs, finding it immensely ego boosting at the way they tremble at your touch. You make your way to the base of his cock and lick one stripe up to the tip. He groans quietly at the sensation, realizing his hand will never be enough again.

His fists curl into the sheets beneath him as you take his head into your mouth, and you fail to suppress the quiet groan that emits from you at how heavy he sits on your tongue. Your mind immediately wandering to what he might feel like inside you—if this goes that far, that is. His eyes haven’t left you, watching you intently as you take more of him into your mouth, the weight of his heady gaze making heat pool between your legs.

Steeling your confidence, you hold his stare as you take nearly all of him into your mouth and start bobbing along his length. A barely audible hiss escapes him, the muscles in his arms straining with how hard he’s fisting the sheets. Yet, you still have his rapt attention, and it makes you want to make him feel so good he has to close his eyes and lean his head back against his pillow.

The thought of having Ushijima Wakatoshi a puddle beneath you makes your thighs clench together. An action that surprisingly doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

In a matter of minutes, you’ve made him throw all qualms out the window and you soon get your wish of seeing him let go. His eyes close, head leaning back revealing the strong column of his neck, and his hips start to move in tandem with your bobbing motions. A guttural groan escapes him when you hollow out your cheeks, and the sound rumbles through you before adding to the growing ache between your legs.

You can’t imagine he’s even close to reaching the end of his stamina, but you are certainly losing patience. So, you pop off his cock, and start making the motions to undress so you can finally fulfill your fantasy of riding him.

He startles you by lifting himself to rest on his elbows, his deep voice filling the silence, “Wait.” You pause, your dress already halfway off. He sits up and pulls you into his lap, completely unbothered by the fact your clothed core is now sitting directly atop his prominent erection. “Let me,” he says so softly you think you might combust.

His hands replace yours, and he gingerly unzips the back of your dress and starts sliding it off your shoulders, each inch of newly exposed skin met by the soft press of his lips. You have no idea if he’s ever been with anyone before, but whatever he’s doing is making your insides scramble and burn. His movements are slow and meticulous, like he’s savoring each touch are you’re positively melting in his lap.

Eventually, you have to stand up to shimmy the dress down your legs, but he sits at the edge of the bed waiting patiently before his large hands rest at your hips and pull you back into his lap. Now you’re looking down at him, so you lean down and press your lips against his.

He’s somewhere else entirely—heaven, maybe, as you kiss him. Your lips are soft, body pliant and warm against his as his fingers dig into the plush skin of your hips. He groans involuntarily when your fingers slide into the hair at the base of his neck, tilting his head so you can kiss him even deeper. You’re pleasantly surprised when his tongue darts out questioningly and you happily open your mouth for him.

I’m doomed, you think as his tongue sweeps in at the same time he uses his hands at your waist to grind you down onto his hips. He feels absolutely huge beneath you, and you have no idea if he will even fucking fit inside you. “Fuck…Wakatoshi,” you breathe. His fingers grip a little harder at your voice saying his name like that, but you’re too dazed to notice what it does to him. You continue, “Fuck me, please.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, and for a moment you think he’s going to comply with your request. Instead, he murmurs, “Not yet.”

You almost pout, but then he’s unclasping your bra and lifting you to set you down on the bed. He doesn’t waste much time ridding you of your underwear next, and you have to resist the urge to cover yourself as he stares at you with a near predatory look in his eyes. “You’re perfect,” he says, clear as day and you feel heat course through your veins at his words.

He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world to him right now. The intensity of his wanton gaze making you squirm beneath it until he lays his body over yours, the comforting weight of him pressing against your skin as he takes your lips again. He elicits a moan from you, his fingers dancing along your sides and his tongue sweeping into your mouth, making you nothing more than a trembling mess underneath him.

His lips leave yours, but he slowly begins trailing kisses along your jaw, down your neck and across your collarbone; almost as if he’s worshipping every inch of your skin before he reaches your breasts. He takes both of them into his enormous hands, the callouses of his fingers scratching along the supple flesh, making your back arch into his touch. Pressing a chaste kiss to your sternum, he rolls your nipples between his fingers, all while keeping his steady gaze on you. And you have no idea how the simple action of him just teasing your nipples while pinning you with those olive eyes is so unbelievably erotic your head begins to feel light.

And then he takes one of them into his mouth and you about lose your goddamn mind. How the fuck does he know exactly what to do? In the time you’ve known him you’ve never once seen him be even remotely interested in anyone. But at this point, you’re well past the point of caring how he learned his way around a woman’s body.

His tongue laps at the pert bud, all while he keeps his meticulous pace on your other nipple before turning the attention of his mouth to it. Without thinking much of it, your fingers dive into his hair, curling into the strands as he continues his worshipping. Though it does pull a deep rumble of pleasure from his chest that goes straight between your legs.

“Wakatoshi,” you pant breathlessly, chest heaving, desperate for him to do something about the growing ache at the apex of your thighs.

This time, he seems to heed your words. He pops off your breast and wanders with his lips down the expanse of your stomach, his hands finding purchase at your hips as he settles himself between your thighs. Your thighs tremble in anticipation as he presses soft kisses to each of them, fingers kneading your hips and pulling you closer to his mouth.

Never in your life did you think you’d have Ushijima Wakatoshi between your legs, looking for all the world like he’s about to devour you.

He groans as he slides his tongue between your folds, drunk on how wet you already are. And despite the fact his cock is throbbing almost painfully and leaking on the sheets, he knows to take his time. If you want him to fuck you, he has to make sure you’re ready for him.

You throw your head back, fingers fisting into the sheets as a lewd moan escapes your throat that only makes him bury his face even deeper into you. His tongue finds the bundle of nerves at the apex and sweeps across it, moving in small circles that have you finding purchase in his hair to keep him there as you move your hips in unison with his tongue.

A loud gasp fills the air as one of his thick fingers enters you, the ministrations of his tongue not stopping as he slowly pumps it in and out of your core. He’s kept his attention on you this entire time, his gaze never wavering as he watches you fall apart at his mercy. And he finds he’s thoroughly pleased at how easily his finger slipped into you, enough that he tentatively prods another one at your entrance that after a moment slides in without any resistance.

It’s so satisfying that he buries his face even deeper, his tongue pressing harder against your clit as you fuck yourself on his fingers. At the sensation of his second finger, your own find purchase in his hair, babbling utter nonsense that if you were in a clearer state of mind you might be a little embarrassed about.

“Please,” you beg, desperate for his cock inside you, “fuck me Wakatoshi. I want you inside me.”

He nearly falls apart at your needy request, but he isn’t finished yet.

You continue to plead with him, until you abruptly feel the absence of his tongue and you look down to find him staring intensely at you. Your throat clams up at his smoldering gaze as he says simply, “You aren’t ready.”

Your mouth drops open as you blink in surprise. Is he joking? Are you not frantically fucking yourself on his fingers right now, desperately asking for him to be inside you? How can you possibly be anymore ‘ready’?

“What are you talking about?”

Now his eyes drop, and very quietly he murmurs, “I’ve been told I am…quite large.”

“By who?” You blurt.

All he says is, “Others.”

You decide to leave it at that, your attention traveling to his erect cock, it pulsing so hard you can almost see it and dripping from the tip. You swallow nervously trying to imagine that going inside you. Ushijima just watches you eye him, his two fingers still knuckle deep in you, which he seems to have forgotten about as he angles his head in question. “Do you want to keep going?”

Warmth blooms in your chest at his concern. “I would very much like to,” you reply, smiling innocently at him, despite the fact the position you’re in is very much the opposite of innocent.

And the answering small smile he gives you makes your stomach flutter. It’s so soft and dazzling, it nearly knocks all the breath out of you. He presses his lips to your inner thigh, smiling against your skin, and all you can do is stare in awe of him.

Then, as if remembering where is fingers still are, he drags them slowly out of you, his mouth latching on to your clit once again before sliding them easily back in. Soon, he’s got you writhing on his fingers once more, toes curling and your own fingers gripping onto his bicep you can feel flexing with each thrust of his hand.

He waits a bit longer, until his fingers are soaked with your wetness again, before tentatively prodding a third finger at your entrance. He stifles his groan against you when he finds that it slips in along with the others effortlessly. Particularly as the grip you have on his biceps tightens, nails digging into his skin and eyes flaring open at the new sensation.

“Fu—fuck,” you mewl, holding on to him for dear life as he continues his slow and methodical pace. At this point, you’re practically shoving yourself onto his fingers, wanting him to fuck you deeper and trying to match the pace at which his tongue is flicking against your clit. The sensation becomes overwhelming, your thighs starting to tremble with the effort to not come around his fingers and mouth.

“Wakatoshi, please—I’m going to—,” you try to warn him, nails digging so hard into his arms that you’re leaving small crescent indents in his skin. He doesn’t stop though, not until you’re practically sobbing, “Let me come on your cock, please.”

That seems to be his undoing. His fingers and mouth abruptly leave you, eliciting a small sound of discontent from you. But you quickly shut your mouth at the sight of him leaning over you, aligning his hips with yours, one massive hand palmed around his cock as he pushes forward.

When the head of his cock sinks into you, a strangled gasp rips from your throat at just how utterly massive he is. Instinctively, your fingers wrap around his wrist to keep him from going any deeper as you say, “Slow.”

His brow is furrowed in concentration, as if it’s taking all of his willpower to keep from snapping his hips forward and sinking to the hilt in you. “Of course,” he growls, his voice taking on a deep tone that makes your toes curl.

And inch by glorious inch, he pushes deeper into you. His forearms coming to rest on either side of your head as he takes your lips to distract you from him nearly splitting you wide open. You tug him closer, fingers tangling in his olive hair, slanting your mouth against his and slipping your tongue inside which he gladly allows.

Eventually, his hips meet yours, and he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours, his toned chest rising and falling with the deep breaths he has to take in order to keep his sanity. The feeling of your tight walls clamping down around him is enough to make him hiss through his teeth, “Shit.”

The word alone makes heat pool in your core. Ushijima Wakatoshi never swears.

“Holy fucking shit.” You correct him. He’s seated fully inside you and you’ve never felt so full in your entire life. Your legs splayed out to either side from just how big he is, and once glance down confirms his thick thighs are shaking with the effort to be gentle.

He just shakes his head at your crass words, then pulls out slightly before ramming his hips back into yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him close to you, your chest meeting his and his head finding the crook of your neck and he begins slowly. And while you’re very much enjoying each of his careful, deep thrusts, you very much would like to be pounded into his mattress. You’re certain he can.

You wonder if he’ll dirty talk with you.

Running your fingers through his dampening hair, you whisper against his ear, “You feel so good, Wakatoshi.” He merely responds with a kiss against your neck and a small approving growl that makes you keep going. “You know what I thought about anytime I was in someone else’s bed?” He makes no indication whether or not he likes you talking to him, so you press on. “This,” you murmur, “You.”

He stops, and for a second you think you’ve gone too far. But then he rises from your neck, and you swear to god—you almost come on the spot at the carnal glint gleaming in his eyes. Like he is about to utterly and completely destroy you. Your entire body buzzes with anticipation as he finally draws his cock almost all the way out of you before driving his hips home in a way that sends you into total euphoria.

His pace becomes brutal, his hips punishing, wordlessly making you realize it was a mistake for you to ever think anyone but him should be between your legs. It was pure luck you stumbled onto something you didn’t realize—he was immensely jealous every time you came home in the morning, clearly having spent the night with someone else.

It drives him so wild that he growls against your lips, “You’re mine.”

The words are so deliciously possessive, you can’t help the way your walls tighten around him, nor how your legs wrap around his waist and start helping him with each thrust of his hips.

“Yours,” you say, lips brushing against his. His hands wander down your sides, fingers digging into your hips pulling you even closer so that there is virtually no space between your bodies. He’s resting almost his entire weight on you, and his warmth and build is so strangely erotic, the coil in your stomach winds tighter and you can feel your impending orgasm begin to climb.

He cages you in his arms, hips never relenting, seemingly chasing his own release. His quiet grunts of pleasure are going straight between your legs, and you can’t help but start exploring the expanse of his exquisitely toned chest pulling an even deeper sigh from him making you almost melt on the spot. Your hands eventually find a place to rest in the dimples of his hips, relishing the sensation of his muscles moving beneath your fingers.

He refuses to finish before you, no matter how unbelievably tight you’re pulsating around him. So, he reaches between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, pride filling his chest at how you moan lewdly; your head falling back and fingers grappling even harder onto his hips. He takes the opportunity to press kisses to your throat, shoulders, collarbone—any expanse of skin he can get his mouth on.

“Fuck—yes,” you groan, hands leaving his hips to weave their way into his hair, using your legs to push him even deeper and meeting each of his thrusts with your own. You start quivering under him, your body preparing for the onslaught of pleasure rising in your chest, threatening to snap at any moment.

You come completely undone when Ushijima commands, “Come for me.”

Something about his husky, lust filled tone; his lips making their mark all over your skin, and the harsh thrust of his hips sends you over the edge. Your body bows off the bed, and Ushijima meets you, his arms wrapping around your middle to press you against his chest as his lips latch onto your neck and he buries himself to the hilt in your wet heat.

For the second time tonight, he curses quietly, holding you to him as your walls pulse with your orgasm and he finds his own release alongside you. You hold on to his shoulders for dear life as waves of pleasure roll through you, your body spasming in his grip all while he kisses you softly. It’s tender and erotic at the same time. As you start to calm down, he claims your lips, tongue sweeping in as you push his damp hair off his forehead before cupping his cheeks.

He pulls away from you, only to set his forehead against yours, your warm breath mingling. Both of your chests are still heaving, and although it’s silent, it’s comforting as he holds you.

After a moment, you open your eyes and find his closed, his lips curved into a barely noticeable smile. It fills your heart seeing him look so…content. “Wakatoshi?” You say quietly. His eyes open and your throat closes at just how handsome he is. “I…I like you.” Your eyes close now, embarrassed at how pathetic that sounded.

“I’d hope so.”

Your eyes burst open finding him looking at you comically seriously. You know he doesn’t mean it as a joke, but you can’t help the smile that rises to your lips. He gazes at you curiously as you ask, “And? Do you like me?” As if his softening dick isn’t still inside you right now.

Though, it still makes your heart flip when he replies without hesitation, “Yes.”

“Good.” You grin. “I’d hope so.”

You kiss him again before he finally pulls out of you and without a word, he gets off the bed and disappears out into the hallway. You grimace at the mess between your legs but are pleasantly surprised when he returns with a warm towel to clean yourself up with. While you deal with the mess, he rummages around in his drawers and at first you think he’s looking for clothes for himself, until he hands you a pair of his briefs and a t-shirt.

You must eye them curiously because he sets them on the bed saying, “Sleep with me.” He doesn’t word it like a question.

Taking the clothes, you smile teasingly up at him. “I just did.”

To nobody’s surprise, he’s relatively unfazed. “Overnight,” he explains further. “In my bed.” Though the light dusting of pink coloring his cheeks as he says this makes you want to smother him with kisses all over again.

You slip on his clothes and climb beneath the sheets as your response. You watch him dress, marveling over the muscles shifting in his back and arms until he covers them and joins you in the bed. He draws you close to his side, letting you run your fingers across his cheek before settling at his chin and pulling his lips to yours. You kiss lazily until you both grow tired and you tuck your head under his chin, letting his fingers intertwine with yours and enjoying the affectionate kiss he presses to the top of your head.

He surprises you when he says into the silence, “Are we going to do that again?”

The chuckle that escapes you is by no means meant to be mean. He just fucked you better than anyone in your entire life and if you were in deep shit falling for him before this—you’re doomed now. Yet, you don’t mind in the slightest. Not when being here in his arms feels exactly where you should be.

So, you kiss his neck and reply softly, “Yes.”

You don’t see his answering smile.

~

taglist: @bobawithpomegranate @anothermessedupbitch @abswrites @toorus-goodgirl @apollochjld @vicassa @sssjuico10

[colubrina]

First Lines

I was tagged by @regulusarchieblack and am delighted because I would much rather do this than dishes.

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have fewer than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag some people to take part.

Tried to put these in reverse chronological order (so newwst first)

FORGET-ME-NOT (mg fantasy):   There are many ways a twelve-year-old girl can be invisible.  I want to get this one drafted by September so I can revise it at the writing retreat I am going to.

KEEPING IT REAL (dark angel fanfic):   The job went wrong Probably never going to finish this one (all the troll reviews didn’t help on that front), but I do like it. All angsty and wallowing

IF YOU MAKE THE DESERT BLOOM (dune fanfic):  “I’m sorry, what?”    The tattoo/flower shop AU the world was begging for

A QUEST IS A DANGEROUS THING (legendborn fanfic):   What killed Bree was that she understood and couldn’t even be angry.   Perhaps the sequel will inspire me to go back to this one,.

UNNAMED GRISHA FIC (grisha fic):  I could always tell when Mal wanted to fuck someone.  never gonna finish this.

NO GOOD WITCHES (ya fantasy):  The most important part of high school was looking normal.  Revising this is killing me.

DRAMIONE RIVALS TO LOVERS FIC (harry potter fic): Granger had done it again. never gonna finish this.

BEOWULF (ya fantasy): Beowulf was the worst book ever written.  This got mired down after I was told I’d revised all the joy out of it and I got stuck.

DUST AND ASHES (ya fantasy): The end of the world began with fire, though no one noticed. Gonna work on this one on and off until I die.

AUBRYN (ya fantasy): Aubryn was fixing her lipstick when the fairy fell out of the sky.  My sequel to Small Town Monsters.  I loved Aubryn so much I couldn’t let her go, so I wrote another whole book about her.  That no one will ever read. God, I’m depressing myself writing all this out.  What is wrong with me?

SMALL TOWN MONSTERS (ya fantasy): There was a half-naked boy in her back yard. I’ve been told this is too quiet for the market.  Straight fairy romance just isn’t in even more, even with bombs and and lots of healthy female friendships.

SEA WITCH’S DAUGHTER (mg fantasy):  Sophie was waiting for her sisters to get ready, and they were taking forever.  My Author Mentor Match book, and the one I signed with my agent for.  This one goes on sub this summer. Good times, I say like a liar.  Who doesn’t love rejection and hopelessness? 

BLOOD AND ROSES (ya fantasy)  Camilla stood at the edge of Fairy and watched the old house.  My Pitch Wars book.  Died in the query trenches.  The ending is more cool than logical, I have to admit, but what really killed it was that no one wants to publish more straight fairy books.

THE AZRAEL PROJECT (ya SFF)  The line to pass the checkpoint moved slowly all morning. No one liked this book except my daughter, who loved it and still rereads it.  Did worse in the query trenches than any other book I queried.

BLOOMS THE THISTLE (ya fantasy)  It was hard to pretend she was still a good person on Summoning Days.  The first book I queried.  Got 18 full requests because it was the last gasp of the YA fantasy boom.  Wasn’t a good book. I remember it mostly for the cruelty of a critique partner, who told me “No one would read this unless they were painfully bored.”  If you tell a person this as feedback, you are an asshole or a sadist or both.

I think I’ve run out of anything even reasonably recent.  My favorite is the most recent, but that’s probably just because it hasn’t failed  yet.

tagging:  @medievalfantasist, @fullyvisible, @evolutionsbedingt, @pedlimwen, @naarna, @sparrow-ink, @pia-bartolini, @provocative-envy, @akorah, @cocoartistwrites, @funkyfaerie

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

Part 1 of ?????

Started writing this fic a while ago and then lost faith in it. Should I continue? Feel bad for not posting much lately so I thought I'd share this. Read on and weigh in.

COME OUT TONIGHT

NO

You don't have to fucking shout?

Said the pot to the kettle?

Oh you grandmother The caps were an accidental by-product of voice-to-text Blame Siri if you're going to blame anyone

You have a Samsung Galaxy S20.

HAD. It got smashed. Worst luck. Listen, come out with me tonight.

Urghhhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm tired!

https://www.boots.com/wellness/vitaminsandsupplements/vitamins-supplements-shop-by-ingredient/echinacea

Hah (indifferent)

Just come out with me! Isaac has to go see some godawful student performance of the Antigone in wherever the fuck Chichester is and it's Sirius's flatmate's birthday party so I have to go and I don't know any of his weird mates

You don't HAVE to go.

Have to/want to Semantics

I'm not in a birthday party mood. I'm having a stressful week. My arse has been tense since Tuesday.

I will wade into the deep and massage your arse if I have to, just come It's a swank pad in Belgravia! I bet they'll have all sorts of expensive nibbles!

I read that as expensive nipples.

Those too!

Partying it up with the children of wealthy Tories. Sounds super fun.

Just come out with me, for fuck I'll pick you up at 7 and we can steal their silverware if it's boring as the grave

URGH I'll go but I'm NOT dressing up!

You don't have to dress up!

FINE!

*

take the drawings down please i'm begging you i'm actually begging you

Nah mate

siriusssssssss pleeeeeease

Nah

PLEASE

Nah

PLEASE ffs it's MY birthday!!!! there are going to be PEOPLE there! standing around! AT EYE LEVEL

I don't see what the problem is.

EVERYONE will see what the problem is! they literally will not be able to IGNORE what the problem is!

Sounds like a recipe for lively discussion to me tbh

that is NOT what i want people talking about at my birthday!

If I take them down, I'll have to take all the nails out and that'll leave nail marks all over the walls. It would be unsightly.

MORE UNSIGHTLY THAN YOUR DICK, SIRIUS?

My dick is bewitching.

DIE

*

She walks in expecting to find herself the infiltrator of a Made in Chelsea/Royal Ascot/Henley Regatta netherworld, filled with a gaggle of giggling, SW-postcode socialites wielding suspiciously powder-edged Harrods Amex cards in the place of horses and boats, but that's not what actually greets her on the other side of the lacquered front door.

What greets her is really quite ordinary.

Aside from the naked drawings of Kingsley's mate, which aren't.

Otherwise, the whole affair is pretty relaxed. People her age are clustered in their small groups, swigging beers. There's a table of oven-heated party foods, salty snacks and rapidly depleting ramekins of guac. She spies more band shirts than there are dress shirts. There's a round of Fortnite in full swing on the TV.

It's all just...startlingly normal. A normal birthday party.

And that's sort of embarrassing, really.

Where are all the visible Tory toffs, she wonders? Where is the braying laughter? The Eton alumni reunion? The glimpse of hunting-happy tweed and shotgun barrels as a coat cupboard door swings shut? Where's the indelible air of sneering superiority, of "we're richer and more privileged and better than you, so fuck the NHS and death to foxes!" that she'd been expecting? There's a fucking Henry Hoover in the corner of the hall, for Christ's sake. Lily came here to smile through her teeth at them all, to listen to the champagne problems privilege that bubbled from their lips and tell herself that she was the one who knew better, who thought better. Her plain white tee and skinny jeans and scuff-toed, high-top trainers were supposed to be a statement, a subtle setting-apart, but she's not even the most underdressed person in the room.

She pre-judged a house full of people. What's that about?

There's a lesson to be found in this. Perhaps.

*

James covered all of the dicks in Paw Patrol stickers that he bought from the newsagent on his way home from his mum's, but Sirius peeled them all off while he was taking a soothing lavender bath, so what's the bloody point in birthdays anyway?

It's early in the evening, and he's wedged—against his will—between the dining room bar and Shane Ruttle, who has just pointed at one of the many lamentable dicks and asked, "Is this one of yours?" which James kind of wants to thump him for. It's bad enough that he looks like a madman who stuffed his house with naked drawings of his brother, now people are actually assuming that he drew the damn things, even though most of the compositions are appallingly far beneath his skill level. He's a professional illustrator, for the love of god, and Shane is really standing before him like the posturing prick he is, asking him if he's the one who drew Sirius with one arm disproportionately longer than the other.

He knows that he should cheer up.

It is his birthday. There is cake.

Good cake, too, not the kind that gets buried in too-thick fondant that he has to pick off before he can eat what's underneath.

The problem is, there's also a party, and his friends are his friends, Peter and Sirius included, and Peter and Sirius can both get drunk much faster than James can. When Peter and Sirius get drunk, serious injuries tend to follow, Remus tends to fuck off in a flash and James tends to be the one who calls for an ambulance or mothers them back to health—physical, mental or otherwise. He has just turned twenty-six, and these repeated, drunkenly dramatic medical emergency scenes are starting to wear a little thin.

Can't a man get comfortably drunk and have a laugh at his own birthday party?

No, he can't, because Peter's already halfway to trashed, wobbling unsteadily towards the French doors that lead to the terrace, wearing that look on his face that says I'm definitely going to vomit or maybe even shit myself like I did on that one night we all spent in Munich with the Belgian handball team and the creepy tour guide who couldn't keep his sleazy hands to himself. For the sake of sparing the lawn such a punishment, James hastily removes himself from Shane, grabs Peter by the collar, shoves him in the direction of the downstairs loo and retreats to the safety of the living room, where there are, at least, no naked drawings of Sirius gracing the walls.

Most of the people in here are transfixed by Saffy Stephens, who is down to the last three in her Fortnite game and cursing like a sailor, but there are a small pile of birthday cards on the end table where James and Sirius normally keep their keys. He perches on the sofa arm, sets his half-drunk beer bottle on the carpet, pushes his dark, disheveled hair away from his forehead and begins leafing through them. It's a necessity when one lives with Sirius, who thinks nothing of swiping gift cards when the mood strikes him and he's had enough to drink.

They're mostly from his female friends, and all pretty standard, until he reaches the middle of the pile and finds a card bearing a picture of a moustached tabby and the caption: Have a Purr-fect Birthday!

The inscription inside is written in a lovely, swirling hand.

To Jasper/Jack/Jason/maybe Ja Rule?/J-something idk

(see above: everything I've learned about you from the friend* I came here with, verbatim)

(*who can't remember your name)

Happy Birthday! Thank you for (not) specifically inviting me, a stranger, to your party to celebrate this momentous event in your life. Please enjoy this festive card/social nicety/convention from me to you. My friend brought rum which you may prefer.

I'll be around. Not that you'll know.

LE

James lowers the card and twists on the sofa arm at once, eyes darting around the room in search of its author, as if they might be laying in wait to watch him read it and see how he reacts. Nobody appears to have ducked behind the couch, however, so the situation merits further scrutiny.

Obviously, he needs to meet this person.

A mystery! At his birthday party!

He perks right up after that.

*

She's coming out of the downstairs loo when a short, blonde man in a garish Hawaiian shirt barrels past her and pukes all over the chequerboard tiled floor, narrowly missing her jeans.

"Oh no," he moans into his wet hands. "Oh no—"

"There there, mate," says Lily consolingly, never one to judge somebody for getting drunk early at a party. She pats him on the back before squeezing past him and rejoining Kingsley, who is standing in one of this meandering Georgian house's many hallways, chatting to a bloke in a houndstooth sweater vest and holding two glasses of something very, very sparkly that she must try at once.

"It's like...it's like everything and nothing at the same time," Houndstooth Bloke is saying when Lily draws close, gesturing to a huge canvas painting of a rain-soaked fairground at night.

"Is it?" Kingsley asks.

"Mmm. Very." Houndstooth shakes his shoulders like he's slipping out of a robe. "Meant to be esoteric, I suppose."

That sounds suspiciously like pretentious bullshit to Lily, who doesn't find the concept of a merry looking fairground all that difficult to absorb. Kingsley knows more about the art world than she does, but he must agree with her assessment because he grunts and shoves her glass into her hand when she stops beside him, and more roughly than she deserves, as if she's the one who landed him in this mess of a conversation to begin with.

Trust him to find himself stuck with the only dick (not etched by a 4B Steadtler graphite pencil) in the building, and trust her to be stuck with the person who got himself stuck with King.

"What are we talking about?" she asks brightly, just to fuck with him.

"Drink your champagne, there's a good little hen," King mutters, his teeth clenched together, hallway lights bouncing off the smoothly waxed dome of his bald head.

"We've been discussing this piece." Houndstooth nods to the painting, but his limpid eyes narrow on Lily's face. "Christ, you're very redheaded, aren't you?"

It's decided. She'll wait 'til Houndstooth is drunk and trip him up with Henry Hoover's hose.

"Ergo soulless, yes," she agrees.

"And you...enjoy that?" he asks, as if being redheaded is her profession.

"Very much, thanks."

"Hmmp. Well. I came here with Saffron," he announces, pronouncing it Sef-ron. As if Lily is supposed to know who that is. "Platonically, of course. Actually, we're some sort of cousins, I think. What do you think the artist is trying to convey?"

He's very pointedly asking her, so Lily blinks at the painting, her eyes on the outstretched arm of a child on the carousel.

"I like the pretty colours," she decides aloud.

"Right," says Houndstooth, "but that's not—"

"And the lights, too. The lights are really pretty."

"But—"

"I love funfairs, actually," she brightly continues, finding a strange satisfaction in playing dumb in front of Houndstooth and his overbleached fade. Although she does really like the colours. "Haven't been to one in years!"

"Yes, good, whatever, but what is the artist trying to convey?"

"What artist?" comes a voice from behind them.

Lily glances over her shoulder and finds herself looking up at the man whose penis she's spent the past thirty minutes avoiding eye contact with, though he is taller, better proportioned and infinitely more beautiful than any of those crudely drawn depictions could possibly convey. He is also beplumed and bejewelled like a pirate, wearing a sumptuous velvet jacket over a loose white shirt, numerous rings on his fingers and an assortment of silver chains around his slender neck, while his grey eyes and elegantly high-set cheekbones are framed by a tumble of black hair that genuinely looks like silk.

The man is so beautiful, in fact, that Lily immediately wonders why he's been taking sketches home from the life drawing class that he and Kingsley pose for—hence their acquaintance and Lily's presence at this party—when nothing she's seen tonight has done him any justice.

Most happily, his penis is tucked safely out of sight.

"Alright, Sirius?" says King.

"Alright, Marvel?" Sirius claps a hand to the taller man's massive shoulder. Kingley's muscles bulge in a way that cannot be hidden by modern habiliments. "What are we talking about?"

"Not much." Houndstooth looks put out by the arrival of yet another person. "We were just mesmerised by this piece."

Lily refrains from gesturing to the painting with both hands and a "ta-dah!" choosing instead to sip her champagne.

It's very good champagne. Mmm. Yes.

"Oh, yeah, it's really something," Sirius agrees. He brushes past Kingsley and runs a finger over the illegible squiggle of a signature on the canvas. His nails are beautifully manicured. "Local guy, young up-and-comer. I assume you've heard of Algernon?" he asks Houndstooth, fixing him with a steely-eyed stare.

"Er, yes." Houndstooth's gaze slides from Sirius to the painting. "I know him."

Sirius's eyebrows lift. "Know him personally?"

"Well—"

"That's so weird, I heard he never speaks to people."

Houndstooth chews on the inside of his cheek, weighing up the challenge. "How…funny."

"Funny?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just, I know I've spoken to him before, and since you've bought his painting I assumed that you'd have—"

"That is funny, actually," Sirius interrupts, "because the artist is my brother, and Algernon is the name of his cat."

Kingsley has been tugging on his earring and almost rips it out of his ear as his body convulses, champagne spraying from his nostrils, while an alarming red flush sweeps across Houndstooth's face and he begins to sputter on his own self-importance. Sirius has clearly decided that he's done with all of that noise, however, because he turns back to Lily instead, looking her up and down with great and sudden interest.

"Who's this then?" he asks Kingsley, cocking his head to one side. "James's present?"

The champagne glass swings down and Lily fixes him with a deadpan stare. "Excuse me?"

Sirius slants a grin at Kingsley, a quick flash of teeth. "This one's queenly, isn't she?"

Kingsley wipes his nose with the back of his hand and laughs again. "Hardly."

"This is Primark, mate," Lily retorts, tugging on her t-shirt.

"Queenliness is a state of mind," says Sirius, "not a state of wardrobe."

"You had me marked down as a prostitute not ten seconds ago."

"Oh, that. I was only joking," he sighs, and grips her arm at the elbow, his long fingers cool against her skin. "But still, you're far too attractive to stand here talking to this clown. Come with me and I'll find you someone better."

*

James's friends are useless.

And drunk. Useless and drunk—or sort of drunk, in Saffy's case. Remus is certainly already pissed, but Remus is on meds so often that he drinks but once in a blue moon. One cocktail is usually enough to set him off, and he's been hard at the gin since he turned up with Peter at six.

"I don't know anyone with those initials," Saffy declares, once she has read, examined and even sniffed the birthday card for clues. "Except for Lisa Edelstein."

"Who's Lisa Edelstein?"

"Cuddy from House," says Remus, lowering the negroni from which he has been drinking deeply.

James pulls a face. "What the fuck is a Cuddy?"

"Oh, actually, it could mean le?" Remus suggests.

"Yes!" Saffy points at him like he might be onto something. "Like the French word for the?"

"Exactly, like—"

"It doesn't mean that!" James interrupts, unwilling to allow such profanity in his home. "That doesn't make sense, why would somebody sign their name as the?"

"Now you're asking me to explain how French people think?" says Saffy derisively, adjusting her bra strap beneath that burnt orange waistcoat she loves, the one that makes her look like she's directing a pornographic movie in the 70s when she pairs it with her tortoiseshell-framed aviators. It clashes wildly with her electric blue buzz-cut. "Am nooooo drunk enough for that."

"They could be one of those one word moniker pop stars, I suppose," Remus pipes up, smiling slyly. "You know, like Madonna?"

They think James doesn't realise that they're taking the piss out of him, but neither of them are sober enough to attempt their gambit with any kind of subtlety or grace.

"You know that's actually her real Christian name?" says Saffy.

Remus turns towards her with interest. "What, Madonna?"

"Yeah!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Saffy repeats. "I thought it couldn't possibly be her real name because, I mean, Madonna, yeah? But then I looked it up and apparently that's the name her mummy gave her, just goes to show—"

"I'm sorry," James interrupts, "but is Madonna relevant to this conversation?"

"Yes, always," says Saffy.

"She's an international pop megastar," Remus seconds.

James stares at his friend incredulously. "Drinking really chips away at your wit, y'know?"

"Does it?" Remus grins lazily and jiggles his cocktail in the air. "Oh, well, I'm negronly joking."

Saffy does a spit-take without the spit and clings helplessly to Remus's shoulder as she laughs, knees buckling, bangles tinkling, but James fights his own urge to start snickering.

"It's not that funny," he lies, and Remus eyes him with an alarmingly teacher-like shrewdness, despite the tellingly intoxicated flush that has crept into his thin, freckled face.

James's love of puns is tragically well known.

"You didn't get it." Remus points at his drink. His speech is starting to slur. "This is a negroni, what I said was—"

"Yeah, I got that part, I just—"

"Jesus fuck, look at her!" Saffy suddenly hisses, staggering sideways into Remus and sending him into the wall in a flurry of giggles—Remus giggling?—her voice hushed and urgent. "Who the hell is that?!"

James does look, following the direction of Saffy's gaze. Sirius has just entered the living room, casually clutching the elbow of a……

……goddess.

An actual. Like. Goddess.

A goddess. In James's house. In his living room. In the place where he eats his chocolate boulder cereal and rewatches Scrubs (even season 9, which is hilarious, and very unfairly disparaged by Joe Public) on Saturday mornings.

She's a goddess. A real one, and cleverly disguised as a mortal, sure, with her slouchy white t-shirt and her big hoop earrings and her light blue jeans that are torn at the knees, wearing her shoulder-length red hair half up, half down and slightly messy, but that doesn't hide what she is.

"Oh my god," he murmurs. His heart is pounding all of a sudden, which is so...utterly bloody stupid, but Saffy's right, bloody look at her, Jesus fuck.

"Surely she can't be with Sirius?" Saffy murmurs back.

"No, she—" He watches Sirius lean down to mutter something in the redhead's ear. A ghost of a laugh flits across her beautiful face. "She's not his—he isn't—"

"D'you think—"

"No, I—"

"Good," says Saffy firmly. She lets go of Remus and rises, lengthening her spine. It is a battle stance of some sort, presumably. "Because I saw her first."

"No!" James cries, wounded, and the redhead shoots him a curious look with a pair of eyes that are startlingly emerald green, even from all the bloody way over here. He spins to face Saffy and lowers his voice, face burning. "It's my house!"

"What are you arguing here, ownership rights?"

"No but it—it's my birthday!" James retorts, jabbing at his own chest. "And, actually, and—"

"It's in the bloody post!"

"—you didn't get me a present!" he finishes in triumph, not that he knows what he's arguing for, because the likelihood is that his tongue will glue itself to the roof of his mouth if he even dares to look in her direction one more time. "Plus I set you up with Vanya Petrich, with whom, as I recall, you enjoyed four years—"

"Stop throwing that in my face!"

"—four blissful years—"

"Is it my fault that you've never fancied any girl I've set you up with?!"

"—promised me an Easter ham for setting you up with her and I never got it—"

"So now you'll trade a woman for a ham?" Saffy accuses, though her face is too lit up, her brown eyes too crinkled at the corners—she's having fun with this and she isn't going to fool him and she knows it. "That's so low, even—"

"Don't start with that," James scathingly cuts in. "You offered me Sean Connery's autograph for Bonnie Grogan's number—"

"Which you never gave me!"

"Because you forged the bloody signature!"

"And now she's bloody married!"

"Yeah, well, Isabella wouldn't give me a counterfeit present, would she?" he retorts, and Saffy lets her shoulders drop, smirking. "This is pointless, Saf, we can't—"

"She's just left with Sirius," Remus informs them, and burps.

[jerisch]

The wrong catch

Another fantastic story by @writer-ofstuff​, featuring Derek from Teen Wolf.

——————————————————————————————————

Derek groaned as he came to. Rubbing his head as it ached. He remembers getting out of his car and then blacking out. He goes on the alert a few seconds later when he realizes that someone has taken him. Derek can see it in some sort of basement given the layout of the room and that makes him assume it must be the Argents. Given how they've been trying to hunt him down for weeks now. The man who steps out from the shadows however Derek doesn't recognize as one of the Argents. Unless this bastard is a hired lackey they paid to capture Derek.

 "Good, you're awake." The man says. He is dressed in a simple t-shirt with a jacket and jeans. He looks like he is around his mid thirties, his brown hair was trimmed short in a typical military fashion. Derek didn't say a word, realizing he's been handcuffed which he could easily break free of. He needs to wait though to see just who this guy is and why he has taken Derek.

 "I'm surprised it was easy to capture such a dangerous criminal such as yourself. You've evaded the police fkr a good while only to just show yourself out in public like you did."

 "I wish I was on duty when I spotted you, that being the reason why I had to take you like I did." The guy says.

 "So, you're a cop then?" Derek asks. 'Good, he isn't a hunter then.' Derek thought. It also explains the man's clean cut boring look that most law enforcement seem to wear.

 "Officer Daniels. The man who brought in the top suspect of a mass murder spree Derek Hale." Daniels sounds smug as he speaks.

 Derek can't help but let out a small laugh as he looks at Daniels with a smirk.

 "It seems you're out of the loop officers. I was cleared of those charges when they found the real murder." Derek says and enjoys the look on Daniels face when he tells him. 

 "You're lying." Daniels says. He turns his back to Derek and sees him on his phone. No doubt checking to make sure Derek was telling the truth.

 "Fuck!" He hears the older man say, and Derek laughs.

 "Seems you put yourself in an interesting position, officer. You thought you captured a criminal when you just kidnapped an innocent man. I'm guessing you wanted credit for bringing a dangerous criminal in for what, brownie points for a promotion? Surely when I get out of here and report you for what you did you'll be lucky to keep your job." Derek says. Taking pride in how the older man glares angrily at him.

 For a few moments Daniels just stands there visibly seething in anger. Nomdoubt he is thinking how he didn't boost his career but ruined it for what he did in taking Derek. 

 "You may be innocent, but I can still use you to get ahead in my career. I just need to make you into a criminal is all." Daniels says with a sinister grin.

 "How so?" Derek asked. Baffled by what Daniels said.

 "I told myself I would never use my family's gift. I wanted to separate myself from that world," he says with disdain. "But with desperate measures like this I can make an exception." Daniels says.

 Derek is confused by what the older man means. That is till he can sense the strong feeling of magic fill the room. Daniels eyes glow an inhuman orange and a bright aura emits from his hands. 

 "Your." Derek doesn't get to finish what he is saying before Daniels' magic envelops around him. Derek breaks the handcuffs and tries to make a run for it, but the magic is already flowing through him and makes him stagger on his feet. 

 "What are you?" Derek growls, his eyes flicker from his normal hazel eye color to beta blue before his glowing blue eyes disappear as his werewolf side hismstripped away from him. Derek fills hollow from losing such an important part of himself, all because of this pathetic officer trying to use Derek to get ahead in his career. 

 Rage bubbles within Derek and he turns to face the man who took a large part of who Derek was from him.

 "You bastard, you fucking worthless pig!" Derek snarls. He clenches his head as it throbs and pounds sending small tremors of pain through him.

 Moments tick by and Derek's body burns from his muscles expanding in size. Hard earned muscles bulging in a matter of moments. It being as if Derek spends so much time hitting the gym to work and maintain such an impressive physique. 

 "You think your tough shift huh? Cause you blindsided me the way you did and brought me here?" Derek goes on to say. His legs ached with newly formed muscle filling his legs out on top of his legs getting longer to make the former werewolf a few inches taller. 

 Derek's mind was in a haze from a mix of different thoughts and emotions filling his head that he didn't know what to do in the moment but kept talking as if he did.

 "You're just a pathetic pig, a dull lackey and nothing more. You can't bring me down, many have tried and every one of them failed." Derek's voice grew raspy and deeper in tone. His voice was foreign to his own ears but he didn't show any sort of reaction to it. 

 Derek's hair trimmed shorter, becoming a simple buzzed over style while his stubble shaved away to leave just a dusting shadow of facial hair along his altering jawline. His jaw which took a more defined and chiseled look. His cheeks filled out, hismnose growing a little wider, his eyebrows trim down to not be as thick as they once were. 

 Standing there now no one would ever have thought this scowling man was once Derek Hale. The man the former werewolf had became sneers at Daniels with a menacing look as handcuffs reappear around his wrists while his mind is flooded with a new persona.

His clothes rapidly changed on his new body. The old tattered rags that ripped and tore at the seams during his growth became something new to fit his new self.

Damon Harris stared at the officer with a cold calculated gaze. How foolish, he thought. It was humorous that that pathetic excuse for a man thought he could bring in a criminal mastermind like Damon in. Damon was not only good looking with an impressive body, but he was also a genius with a seductive charm which he shamelessly used to get out of being arrested.

By sleeping with the officers who tried to arrest him Damon often used it as blackmail to get the men to drop the charges and thus making him walk out a free man each time.

This buffoon would be no different, just another bitch for Damon to seduce and fuck till the weak man's dick his dry of any cum. Damon puts on his signature charming look. Before he could even utter a single word to the officer however Damon feels suddenly drowsy. He stumbles on his feet, sputtering over his words before he falls to his knees and then falls to the ground fast asleep thanks to the sleep spell Daniels just casted on him.

"I no doubt made you into a more dangerous criminal than what you were excused for, so best to not take any chances with you till I get you to the station." Daniels says to Damon's sleeping form.

It was a paint in the ass to get the hulking man into his car, but he thinks how this, everything he did tonight will make it all worth it when he gets the promotion for bringing in one of their most sought after and elusive criminals.

"I'd say sorry for doing this, but that would be a lie." Daniels says smugly while he lifts Damon's sleeping body up and struggles to carry him up the stairs and out to his car. Once he has Damon in the back seat of his cruiser, Daniels takes a moment to collect himself. He is due to start his shift soon, he still needs to get dressed in his uniform so he quickly heads inside to do that.

He isn't aware of his magic being absorbed by Damon. The void that was left from when Damon was Derek and a werewolf takes in the lingering magic from Daniels' spells clung to the criminal. Giving him his own type of hidden power that would grow within him.

Damon wakes up when Daniels returns. The criminal thrashes in his handcuffs and demands to be set free, but Daniels ignores him and drives them to the station. He is already picturing the praise he will receive when he walks in with a handcuffed Damon.

———————————————————————————————————

"You may bring me in but I won't get charged. You can believe I will track you down once I'm out and make you sorry you every crossed paths with me." Damon tells Daniels in a low threatening voice as he gets escorted into the police station.

"With what we have you charged with I doubt you get out from behind bars anytime soon." Daniels laughed.

Damon clenches his jaw and sneers at the whispering officers who look at him. He won't stand for this. He refuses to be taken down so easily by a chump you used cheap tricks to capture him. Damon was a criminal mastermind, a genius Adonis. He refuses to be carted off like some common criminal like this.

"Now sit here while I get started on your processing paperwork." Daniels says smugly after he secures Damon in a holding cell.

"This isn't over! You haven't seen the last of me!" Damon calls out to Daniels retreating back. He curses and paces in his cell, thinking of how he can get out of this one. His interrupted by the door opening, he turns around and sees Sheriff Stilinski walk in. Damon rolls his eyes, the older man has been a thorn in his side for a while now and Damon is sure the Sheriff has come here to gloat about him finally being caught.

He notices how tired the older man looks, a mischievous idea forms in Damon's head while he watches Stilinski approach his cell.

"I'd like to see how you weasel your way out of this one Damon." Stilinski says.

"I'm sure you would, old man." Damon says. Loving the way Stilinski bristles at that.

"You look tired Sheriff, working long shifts again? Surely the pristine Sheriff of our beloved town knows when not to push himself too much in his work. After all, you're older now so you should be taking it easy." Damon chuckles.

"Watch Damon, I'm not that old." Stilinski says.

"Oh of course Sir." Damon says in a low raspy voice. He starts working his charm on the older man, flashing him a smile and leans close to the bars as he speaks to Stilinski.

"You do so much work for this town and do you get any recognition, any reward?" He asked.

"It's my job, I don't need a reward for doing what is right." Stilinski says.

"Yes, but surely with all you do you should get a reward." Damon says. "If a small one." He winks.

"Are you flirting with me?" Stilinski asked, taken aback.

"Depends Sheriff." Damon purrs. "If you can handle a young stud like me." He goes on to say and then rubs his impressive sized bulge. Stilinski's eyes follow Damon's movements and the criminal knows he has the Sheriff eating out of the palm of his hands now.

Men like Sheriff Stilinski who are overworked and tired are so much easier to seduce Damon's learned.

"I don't know what you're trying to accomplish here Damon but I won't be like those other officers you seduced and made lose their jobs." Sheriff Stilinski says.

"This is different this time Sheriff. No one is around to see us. With you being in charge you can easily erase the security footage that shows us having a little fun." Damon persuades.

"If it makes you feel better you won't even have to let me out of the cell." Damon added. The criminal then frees his fat cock from his pants. Gripping his palm around the base of his shaft. Damon's eyes lock onto the older officer's and he can see the turmoil Sheriff Stilinski is in from the look on his face as he mulls over what to do.

"Don't keep me waiting Noah. Who knows if you'll ever get another chance to have a taste of this." Damon teases. He grins widely when Sheriff Stilinski hesitates and then gets on his knees. Damon gets closer to the bars and sticks his cock through the opening towards the Sheriff.

"Go on Noah, don't keep me waiting." Damon insists. With another moment of hesitation Noah leans forward and tentatively takes Damon's cock into his mouth.

"See? Not so hard was it?" Damon asked. He gently thrusts his hips forward into Noah's mouth, pushing his dick further into the older man's mouth. His hands stick out through the bars and cradles Noah's head in his hands. Rubbing the older man's head soothingly while Noah continues to suck him off.

Damon would tease the older officer for being such a good cock slut, only he feels a strange sensation coming over him. He remains silent, a frown on his face while his body starts to get itchy. Damon doesn't know the residual magic from Daniels' spells is flowing through him and into Noah now. The magic making the two men become intertwined with each other filling their heads with a false reality of the two of them together.

Fueling Noah's loneliness while also granting Damon's desire to be free from his incoming imprisonment. Thus triggering Damon to undergo a second transformation. This one happens more rapidly than the first, making Damon fall into a dazed trance state so he doesn't even get to react to his metamorphosis into a new man.

Damon's hair starts to cascade down from his head as the Criminal begins to lose his hair. His hairline thinning out while more of his dark colored hair recedes into his scalp till he is left bald.

Damon's hard earned physique loses some definition and tone so he isn't as muscular anymore but still remains in good shape. Dark bristles of body hair sprout and grow along his torso, stopping just along his abdomen. Damon groans, his eyes glazed over, he thrusts his hips forward. His body moving on it sown to fuck Noah's mouth to plunge his cock deeper into the Sheriff's mouth. Damon can feel how full his balls are, desperate to release his thick load.

Damon's handsome face matures while it shifts into the face of an older man with rugged looks. Damon's dusting of stubble thickening into a fuller beard. His clothing rapidly alters on him to match the similar beige uniform as Noah Stilinski wears.

Damon no longer recalls his life as a criminal mastermind. Instead his head is full of new memories of being an upstanding officer of the law. Damon's own name is fleeting from his mind. His new persona taking root to complete his transformation.

Officer Darren Stilinski's eyes refocused as he awakened. An orange hue flashes over his eyes before that fades to his normal green color. Darren rubs his hand through his husband's hair as the room shifts around them. Placing them in Noah's office rather than the holding cell.

"After all these years together and you're still the needy cockslut you were when we met at the academy." Darren chuckles.

Noah looks up and is startled for a brief moment when he sees the new man, but his mind quickly catches up and he relaxes. Now he recalls this man as his partner, on the force and at home. Two wedding bands materialize on the two men's fingers while Darren fucks Noah's mouth with a few more thrusts before finally unloading his thick load of come into his lover's mouth. He pulls out a little bit after that, letting Noah lick any left over come from his thick dick head before Darren fixes his pants.

"That was fun." Noah says as he gets to his feet.

"Is it a surprise when you have such a stud for a husband?" Darren teases.

"You're so full of yourself." Noah chuckles.

"I know, it's why you love me so much." Darren grins and kisses Noah. His hands coming around to knead Noah's ass. The two officers stand there in Noah's office kissing when the door opens and Daniels walks in looking frazzled.

"Sir we have an issue. I brought in a dangerous criminal and now he." Daniels trails off when he notices the other officer with the Sheriff. He freezes for a moment as realization hits him and he sputters over his words.

"Yes?" Noah asked.

"You were saying something son?" Darren adds.

"N-nothing, sorry to trouble you both." Daniels settles on saying before he quickly leaves.

"That was odd." Noah says and turns to Darren.

"We can worry about him later. Right now I believe we are still on break so why don't we use it to have a little more fun." Darren suggests, pulling Noah closer to him for another kiss. Before they can continue Noah's phone buzzes, and with a heavy sigh the Sheriff answers it.

"Stiles is here to see you. Do I let him back?" The receptionist says.

"Yeah, send him back." Noah answers and hangs up.

"Our son is here." Noah says.

"Of course he is. I love him, but he has the worst timing." Darren chuckles.

"Yeah, but at least we can continue this when we get home." Noah says.

"Oh I intend to, and do a lot more to you." Darren promises. He has a flash of forigen thoughts in his head for a brief moment. He recalls what feels like two separate sets of memories in his head, but before he could focus on what they mean he quickly forgets them. He then just feels affection for his husband and their son just as Stiles opens the door.

Stiles pauses when he sees his dad and another officer around his dad's age holding hands and looking like they're close to kissing. The scene throws Stiles off and the young man is baffled over what the hell he just walked in on before reality catches up to him.

He recalls the new officer as his dad. Remembering growing up with two fathers and how much he loves his dads.

"Jeez, can't you two wait to get home to do this?" Stiles teases.

"So you can interrupt us there too?" Darren jokes, walking up and pulling his son in for a hug. Neither of them recalling who Darren was once before his transformations.

[wing-ed-thing]

Retail Therapy (Kakuzu x Reader)

Synopsis: Deidara has a new partner for a combined effort with the Zombie Combo. However, something about you has Kakuzu heated.

Word Count: 2,123

Tags/Warnings: Violence, Threat of Violence, Probably Language, Gender Neutral Reader

Notes: Kakuzu content is probably some of the best stuff I’ve ever written. Right now I’m watching a video on fried milk. Ever hear of such a thing? Fascinating.

Kakuzu didn’t like being paired up with Hidan, let alone joint missions where he’d have to deal with even more people. Not to say that Kakuzu hated people, because he did, but he never thought that he’d hate anyone more than he absolutely hated you. He hadn’t even met you yet, but he knew at his very core that you would quickly become the bane of his entire existence.

“Shopping?” Kakuzu asked slowly, the word forming on his lips as if he had an aversion to even speaking it. Deidara leaned back on the large bounder that he settled on and stretched his arms up above his head. The blond nodded with a short groan before his hands came to rest behind his head.

“Yep,” he answered, “And for hours too, so I’d get comfortable.” Hidan plopped down on a patch of dirt below, his back and scythe against the side of the rock. Kakuzu glared down at his partner causing Hidan to shrug. To Hidan, if Deidara thought that the three of them would be waiting a while, he would take his word and make himself comfortable. Kakuzu’s attention turned back to Deidara.

“Hours? What possibly could someone be purchasing that takes them hours?” Hidan gazed up from his spot, head tilted back against the surface behind him.

“And we only came like five minutes late too. Who takes off like that?” Kakuzu almost nodded in agreement, but knowing his partner, Hidan would take any excuse to complain. Deidara shrugged, basking in the warmth of the sun and stayed lounging even as a rustling came from the woods. Hidan’s hand immediately reached up to grip the handle of his weapon and Kakuzu took a defensive stance. Deidara’s eyes remained closed.

“Oh hello, boys! I didn’t know you were here!” You sauntered out of the trees, bags hanging from both arms. They were pushed tightly in a line, every other patch of your skin strained by the handles of a different shopping bag. Even in your altered Akatsuki cloak, Kakuzu took a look at you and immediately decided that you were decorated far too ornately and that he’d like to kill you when he had the chance. You were objectively beautiful, but if Kakuzu had his way, Deidara would have to be assigned another partner soon. “You haven’t been waiting for too long, have you?”

“You shouldn’t have left us waiting at all,” Kakuzu glowered, although not any more than usual. Either you didn’t hear him or you ignored him as you walked up to your partner. You plucked a package from one of your more reachable bags.

“I got you something, Dei-dei!” You threw it up to Deidara weakly but he managed to catch it. He opened the small, folded, paper bag. Deidara glanced down at you with a nod of his head and a fold of his lips. He took the neat band in his hand while you looked at him expectantly. “Aren’t they nice? Hair ties. Silk from a small village in the Land of Water.” Deidara held them up to the sun.

“That’s some great quality you found. Thanks.” Your partner glanced down at you again. “Must’ve been one hell of a fight assuming that you got a good price for it.” Kakuzu looked on at your exchange, increasingly beginning to lose his temper.

“Believe me, I did. And I found a ton of other great finds too. I gotta show you—”

“Enough,” Kakuzu growled and you finally turned your attention his way. Hidan had since passed out against the boulder that Deidara sat on. “You’re wasting all our time. The sooner we start, the sooner we can part ways.” You gave Kakuzu a once over with your nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Well someone’s grumpy,” you mused. You rolled your eyes and pointed your nose upward. Huffing, you threw your shopping bags into the air and as they fell, you swiftly unfurled a scroll. Your new items disappeared one by one. You rolled the paper back up, scowling as you slipped the scroll into one of many slots that you wore strapped to your clothing. The pockets ran down the small of you back and you latched the bundle of paper in place with a flip of your nimble fingers. Kakuzu frowned back, tentatively wondering if all the scrolls you carried contained the same amount of shopping bags. You approached him with crossed arms. “Okay then, tough guy. Let’s get started.”

You sat down and summoned a map of the next village. It laid out in front of you and placed your hands on your knees in challenge. Kakuzu sat down on the other side of the map, eyes boring into you. You didn’t budge. And as you began to speak, it was hard to focus, at least for Deidara. Though he supposed he’s seen you this fired up before.

“It would be easier if we lure the jinchūriki outside of the village,” you said, gesturing to the small, unnamed village on the map. It wasn’t large, but just big enough to serve as a maze for your prize. At least you knew the woods better and a jinchūriki was bound to stand out among the trees.

“I can get up some traps,” Deidara added and you nodded.

“Back them into a corner and cage them into a small space—” You nodded again— “We can use some explosives around the area… maybe here?” You pointed to a section of the map outside of the village. You looked up at Deidara. “You’d be our last line of defense when the jinchūriki tries to run.” Deidara smirked and puffed out his chest.

“Leave it to me!”

“We’ll need someone to drive the jinchūriki out of the village,” Kakuzu cut in, not particularly liking how you dominated the strategizing. “I’ll go with Hidan.” While Kakuzu thought that he would stop at nothing to get away from the Jashinist, this had to be a regrettable first. Hidan napped a few feet away.

You raised an eyebrow and scoffed, “You and Hidan? Psh… might as well have Deidara set off fireworks in the sky that spell out ‘single, hot jinchūriki in your a—”

“I can do that!” Deidara cut in before immediately backing down at Kakuzu’s pointed glare, not that he’d show it. You locked eyes with Kakuzu, taking his fiery stare off of your partner.

“I’ll go. You’re too conspicuous and, really, have you seen Hidan? You two would be spotted a mile away.” Kakuzu almost snarled.

“And you wouldn’t?” You let out a short, bitter laugh. Your left arm supported your weight as your knees touched together on the right side of your body. Kakuzu scowled at your blatant lounging. Everything about you challenged him and he hated you for it. Your lids narrowed in a smug smile.

“I’m not the one—” who’s fuckin’ jacked — “ with big-ass black stitches across my whole body.”

“And four faces on his back…” Hidan called out, still half asleep. You turned back to Kakuzu.

“And four faces on his back,” you repeated, much to Kakuzu’s vexation. The sass in your blinks was lost on the older shinobi. He stood, causing you to stand too. Deidara took a hint and retreated. Kakuzu crossed his arms over his chest and he planted his feet on the ground about the same width apart as his broad shoulders. He pointed two fingers at you harshly.

“And you’re—” Gorgeous. — “a brat. I should just kill you right here.” You stood your ground, daring to slap Kakuzu’s hand out of your face.

“As much as I’d like to see you try, tough guy, I’d actually like to do some quality work and get the hell away from you as quickly as I can.” Kakuzu huffed, gritting his teeth underneath his mask.

“Nice to hear that we’re on the same page.”

And with neither of your partners wanting to deal with either of you pissed off, you and Kakuzu were paired together.

***

Deciding that your cloaks were too noticeable, you sealed yours away. Kakuzu kept his draped across his arm, distrust of you evident. You walked down the road together under the late afternoon, waiting for nightfall. You hoped that striking at night would give you not only the surprise advantage, but also minimize the number of clueless civilians that would no doubt wander in your way. But as soon as your eyes fell onto the market, Kakuzu quickly began to wonder if his stubbornness landed him with an even larger headache. But his usual, standoffish demeanor remained the same. Kakuzu’s eyes drifted to their corners as he scowled down at you.

“No.” That was all he said, as if you would actually listen to him and not immediately march in the direction of the market. He reluctantly followed, every reach to hold you back by your robes falling just a bit short each time. By the time you were stopped, too many people surrounded the two of you for him to pull you away without drawing attention. Normally, attention from others wasn’t anything that Kakuzu would be concerned with, but your two teams had their orders and Kakuzu would be damned if he had to spend anymore time with you.

You stood in front of a booth with your hand on your chin. Kakuzu stood next to you, following your gaze to a simple, but sturdy-looking sword. You gingerly picked it up, carefully studying it’s craftsmanship. The man behind the booth leaned over his table, motioning to the piece of merchandise in your hands.

“Ah, you have a good eye, mercenary.” You glanced up at him.

“Land of Earth? Lots of excellent craftsmanship comes from there, I’m not surprised.” You ran your thumb across the dull of the blade. “Antique too, but still hardy.” The merchant nodded pointing to a few spots across the weapon.

“Could get you out of a bind too. Reliable smithing comes from Tsuchi no Kuni.” Kakuzu looked on at the show in front of him. In stark contrast to earlier, you seemed poised and he found you knowledgeable. You appeared calm and competent enough to handle yourself and for a second, Kakuzu became lost in your analysis.

You stepped back, turning the sword around in your hand to feel out the balance. The blade whipped around your body with ease. The seller softly applauded your embellished practice. Kakuzu almost rolled his eyes, but took some comfort in the fact that you were looking to purchase something of quality and not just anything at the very least. You looked down at the weapon with a nod or two before asking the dreaded question.

“So what’s your price?” The merchant didn’t hesitate.

“A hundred thousand ryō.” Kakuzu almost left right there, but a dominant part of him wanted to know what you were going to do. His hands grasped his biceps, his cloak still hanging from his forearm. Kakuzu watched you closely. You shook your head.

“You’re going to give it to me for twenty-five thousand.” The merchant gaped at the outrageous price you named. He sputtered a few times.

“That price is far too low for this quality. You must be joking if you think I’d sell this fine piece of equipment for practically nothing.”

You did name a ridiculous price. Not even Kakuzu could see getting what you wanted for that price without a fair bit of violence and intimidation. But you ripped into that merchant. You ripped into this poor seller like nothing Kakuzu had ever seen before. He didn’t even know if he could call it bartering, but whatever it was, it was likely one of the most skillful things that Kakuzu had ever seen.

He folded his lips under his mask. You didn’t yell. Kakuzu didn’t even find your appearance intimidating in the slightest, yet every point and number the merchant brought up, you countered. And by the end of the intense conversation, if Kakuzu didn’t know any better and had less of a spine, he’d likely be handing the sword over too. The man had long since started sweating, tugging at his collar. If Kakuzu didn’t see it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it as you handed over exactly twenty-five thousand ryō. He almost overlooked the complete waste of money as he still stood stunned, though not outwardly showing any such emotion.

You nestled the sword by your hip and the seller let out a breath of relief by the time you walked away. Kakuzu followed wordlessly next to you as you strutted off in triumph.

Perhaps he misjudged you. He stared, not noticing as he did so.

Yes, you were going to save the organization a fortune.

Notes: “oH mY gOd KaKuzU sAiD hE wAs GoNna KiLl rEader! wHy wOuLd yOu wRiTe sOmEtHiNg sO tOxIc???”... They’re criminal terrorists, Susan.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

[gwynrielendgame]

Gwynriel antics

Okay writing from Mor’s perspective is actually kind of difficult. There is enough ambiguity around Mor’s sexuality in the series that I try to veer away from her perspective to avoid potentially problematic content. I do think that Mor would struggle when Azriel finds his mate/significant other because he’ll no longer be paying her much attention. At least not in the way she’s used to. Anyways enjoy

The first thing Mor noticed as she entered the living room was that Azriel was in a bad mood. He was brooding, more so than normal while standing in the far corner of the room by the piano. The only person brave enough to engage him in conversation was Nesta, who looked as bitchy as usual. Mor considered consoling him, but reconsidered as his shadows seemed restless. She would never admit it to him, though she presumed he might already know, but his shadows unnerved her. They would never hurt her, but something about them reminded her of the Court of Nightmares. She felt guilty and like a bad friend. The only thought that could console her was the knowledge that no one would be able to get him out of this mood. Nesta may be brave enough to face the mood head on; however, she would never be enough to pull him out of his own mind. It had always bothered Mor that nothing she could do or say would make him feel better.

"How was you trip?" Elain asked sweetly from the couch. Her frilly, pink dress made Elain's beauty less intimidating and more approachable.

She often wondered if that was on purpose. She was the complete opposite from Mor in every way, yet Mor felt grateful to her. Grateful that she had caught and kept, at least partially, the attention of the Shadowsinger. A jealous part of Mor was glad that Elain could not, although she speculated that Elain did not want to either, pull him out of his mood. Mor sat across from Elain on the other couch, taking baby Nyx right from Feyre's lap. Feyre sent a small smile to Mor before returning to her conversation with Rhys. Her legs were tossed over his lap with their sides pressed firmly together. Mor suddenly ached for what they had. The publicity of it, the intimacy of it, and the comfort of it all was something she wanted so desperately, but felt so unattainable. Mor dropped a kiss on Nyx's forehead as he pulled at her hair before answering Elain.

"It was fine. Politics can be so dreadfully boring," she rolled her eyes as she said it. Elain nodded along as if she might understand even though they both knew she didn't. Mor bounced Nyx on her knee to keep him preoccupied.

"Do you know what is wrong?" She lowered her voice while nodding her head in the direction of Azriel. Even though he was behind her, Mor knew who Elain was referring to.

"Your guess is as good as mine." She replied with a shrug. It was almost impossible to tell. Rhysand felt the need to add in his two cents, annoyingly enough.

"Leave it be, Elain. He likes to be left alone when he's like this." Rhysand gave her a hard look that Mor did not understand. Seemingly Elain did because she turned away to stare at the fireplace with a blushing face.

"The party is officially here!" Cassian shouted as he burst through the double doors into the living room.

Gwyn and Emerie, who trailed in after Cassian, made a beeline for Nesta who was still standing next to Azriel. Not so much conversing, but standing in solidarity to their bad moods. Cassian dropped a kiss on Nesta's cheek which had Mor rolling her eyes. She would never understand what a good fae like Cassian ever saw in Nesta. Even at her best, she was miserable. Emerie eventually floated over to Mor.

"How was your trip?" She awkwardly played with the end of her braid as she stood towards the side of the couch. She was clearly struggling with where to sit now that Cassian and Nesta took up the rest of the couch Elain was sitting on.

"Peachy. Dealing with entitled males is my favorite way to spend my time." She said it in an ultra cheery voice as she held up Nyx closer to her face. She was hoping his tiny baby body would block her blush. No need to let the Illyrian female know that Mor was flustered by her attentions. Emerie sent her a brilliant smile.

"So just a normal Tuesday huh?" Mor smiled back at her before moving over. There was a small amount of space between Feyre and Mor, but Emerie's slender body could probably fit.

"Would you like to sit?" Mor motioned to the spot. Emerie hesitated for just a moment before accepting. Her side was smushed to Mor's. She would be lying if she said it didn't elicit a spark in her.

Quiet murmurings in the back of the room drew Mor's attention. As she turned around she saw the priestess, whose name was on the tip of her tongue, talking with Azriel. Brave girl is the only thought that flittered through her head. They both had serious expressions as they discussed something quietly. It was so quiet that even with her fae hearing, she could not make out what they were saying. Azriel's shadows were moving rapidly around him now, making him obvious instead of blending him in like they were meant to be doing. Mor realized that Gwyn was holding a dagger that Azriel was showing her how to handle. He corrected her arm position a few times and she practiced it. Surprisingly, the brooding expression was replaced with one of concentration. He was more focused on teaching her than with whatever he was upset with. Mor cocked her head to analyze the two further only to be called back to attention.

"Mor!" Cassian all but shouted.

"What? Yes?" She turned back to the circle she was part of to see Cassian looking at her expectantly.

"I asked you how your trip was? I haven't seen you since you have gotten back." Cassian tossed an arm around Nesta's shoulder who was in an animated conversation across the couches with Emerie about some book they had both read. Mor was distracted for a moment. What could Emerie see in Nesta as a friend?

"Same old, same old."

Elain moved to grab Nyx from Mor's lap before reclaiming her spot on the ruby colored couch. Without the baby as a buffer, Mor felt exactly how nice it was to have Emerie so close, even if she was paying more attention to Nesta than herself. Elain blew raspberries on Nyx's face when a sound caught Mor's attention once again.

"Cassian!" The priestess, whose name Mor finally remembered was Gwyn, called as she dragged Azriel by the hand to the center of the room. Mor could not stop her eyes from widening and it appeared Elain, Feyre, and Rhys couldn't either. Mor even thought she might have heard a small gasp from Elain. "Tell Azriel that I really managed to escape that knot earlier."

Gwyn's face was barely containing her excitement. When they finally stood next to the couches, Gwyn dropped his hand gently, but did not move away from him. Almost the entire room was raptured by the scene. Azriel's acceptance of her hand holding, the shadows that appeared to guard the redhead as they peered over her shoulders, and the disbelief on his face that took over from the brooding as Gwyn insisted that she accomplished her goal. Cassian laughed while shaking his head.

"She is telling the truth. She's quite crafty with those ropes." Cassian admitted. Azriel's face continued to show his disbelief as he turned his narrowed gaze to Nesta.

"If you don't believe her, I guess she'll have to show you tomorrow." Nesta shrugged. Azriel sent a look to Gwyn that Mor could not exactly decipher. It almost looked like admiration, but there was no way it could be that.

"Why wait?" Gwyn started pulling Azriel back to the doors. "I'll show you now." Azriel allowed Gwyn to tug him around like a rag-doll. Mor could not stop the giggle from escaping her lips.

"Gwyn!" Emerie whined. "You promised you would stay until we at least ate!"

"Don't let her leave, Azriel!" Nesta shrieked. "She's trying to escape. You are not as clever as you think little missy." Nesta sent one of her nastiest glares towards the two escapees. Shockingly, it only made Gwyn laugh. She turned to Azriel with a slight pout.

"Please? I know you want to see it." She taunted him.

It appeared that those in the room who had not been to training had missed quite the development because as Azriel threw his head back in laughter, Mor, Elain, Feyre, and Rhysand jaw's all dropped in shock. It appeared the priestess was able to accomplish something that none of them had been able to in all their years of knowing the Shadowsinger. She was able to retrieve him from his bad mood. The shadows that seemed so territorial over Gwyn, now rested calmly around the both of them. It surprised Mor how unaffected Gwyn was by them. The interaction was so shocking that none of them could look away.

"You can show me tomorrow." He replied quietly with a smirk. Gwyn sighed but returned to the center of the room.

"Fine, you guys win."

Nesta and Emerie beamed at each other. Even as others recuperated from the shock, Mor felt herself analyzing everything Azriel did after that. Every interaction he paid to the priestess and how that was different from his interactions with her and Elain. She paid attention to how often he laughed and how his shadows acted. All throughout dinner she tried to understand it. What Gwyn could do that Mor could not. She wanted to know for next time, so that it could be Mor that made him smile when he was upset instead of Gwyn. The ugly, jealousy feeling made no sense. But there was a part of her that did not want to share Azriel with anyone, but especially with Gwyn. It was odd how Mor did not feel the same way with Elain.

"What's wrong with your shadows?" Elain asked innocently.

It was the wrong question to ask. The neutral face he had been sporting shifted into a scowl and the shadows retreated altogether. Before he could say something, Gwyn spoke up.

"There's nothing wrong with them. They just want to play." She continued to push her food around on her plate.

"Play?" Rhysand asked with raised eyebrows. He sent a look to Az. An annoyed look, one that rarely ever showed, crossed Azriel's face.

"They are not playing." He enunciated the last word, seemingly for Gwyn's benefit. She simply rolled her eyes as if the Shadowsinger's annoyance was no skin off her back.

"You are just jealous because they like me better." She sent him a mischievous smile before humming a short tune. A traitorous shadow lunged for her. It stopped short and retreated when the tune stopped.

"Gwyn." He whined. Mor ended up choking on her food at the sound. She has never once heard the male whine for any reason. Everyone at the table sent her an amused stare except for Gwyn and Azriel who appeared to be stuck in some sort of staring competition.

"Really, you two? You're worse than Rhys and I were when we were nine." Cassian muttered.

"3 books for Azriel." Nesta piped up.

"Are you serious? No way." Emerie argued in an adorably annoyed way. "Gwyn all the way. You owe me 5 books anyways. I want new leathers."

Mor made certain to note that in the back of her head.

"What are they doing?" Elain asked. Cassian shook his head in amusement.

"Staring contest. First to blink loses."

"Why?" Elain looked amused. Actually the entire table looked amused at their antics.

"Because they are the two most stubborn Fae to have ever lived." Emerie said with a smile.

The table went extremely silent as they watched the two battle it out. Mor was intrigued to see who would win. A thud under the table was the only sound to be heard.

"No playing dirty." Azriel said without so much as an inclination that he had just been kicked.

"You pulled my hair last time."

"Because you threw a dagger at me the time before. I'd say mine was much milder."

Rhysand laughed a loud and hearty laugh that caused the two of them to blink at the exact same time. Nyx clapped his hands at the excitement.

"Hey!" Gwyn and Azriel yelled simultaneously.

"Dammit." Emerie muttered.

"I'm claiming that win." Gwyn announced with a smug smile.

"Of course you are." Az sent her a glare, but there was no malice behind it.

He did not correct her though, allowing her to claim the win. It was then and there that it hit Mor.

Azriel likes Gwyn.

He isn't in love with her. He isn't pining after her. Mor isn't even sure if he knows it himself yet. But Mor knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he likes the priestess. The slithering jealous feeling only increased tenfold. She sighed heavily. What was wrong with her? She should be happy for her friend.

Shouldn't she?

[reidgraygubler]

trouble (matthew gray gubler/fem!reader)

Title: trouble

Request: requested by anon

Couple: matthew gray gubler/fem!reader

Category: smut (*gasp* i know...) w/ a side of fluff

Content Warning: sexual content (penetrative sex, unprotected sex (be safe buddies), fingering, car sex, choking kink, daddy kink (But as a joke), masturbation, slight edging (i guess that’s what it’s called)), kinda sub!reader, kinda dom!mgg, swearing, sexual innuendos, teasing, pissed off matthew

Word Count: 4369

Summary: Reader and Matthew are going out to a dinner party with the cast of Criminal Minds. After some suggestive comments and innuendos and actions (done by reader). Matthew teaches Reader a lesson in the back seat of his station wagon.

A/N: in celebration of hitting 200 followers, i decided to pus my first smut here :) although it was a request and i was going to post it either way. this was the request i got and when i saw it i got more than excited and my mind ran wild with it! matthew 10/10 calls his partner princess in this one-shot. it’s a little bit rougher than i was expecting, but i kinda lost track of my thoughts and just went for it. thank you so much to that anon that sent this in! if you have a request or an idea, send it in! and check out my masterlist!

6/1/2021 Edit: I no longer write rpf smut. this was written before I made that change. 

~*~*~ THIS DOES CONTAIN 18+ CONTENT! ~*~*~

{***}{***}{***}

Oh boy, it was just one of those days… I could just feel it in my body that I was going to be an asshole today and nothing anyone could do could stop me from that. My sassy mood would be the one thing that gets me in trouble today, and I think I’m honestly okay with that.

I walked into the bedroom, wearing nothing but my undergarments (which consisted of my personal favorite black/mint lingerie), and tan stockings. Matthew was sitting on the edge of the bed, tying his shoes. I walked over to the closet, right past him. We should and are getting ready for a dinner party with his friends from Criminal Minds. Should being the key-word there. I loved messing with him like that.

“Woah,” he spoke ever so softly. I stayed facing the closet, but a smile grew on my lips. I gently swayed my hips as I went through the dresses I had hanging. He was staring, I knew he had to be staring. I pulled one dress out, not really thinking it’d be the one. 

“What should I wear,” I asked out to the room. The sounds of his shoes hitting the wood flooring was the answer I got instead of his voice. I pouted as I dropped my head to my shoulder, my hair hitting my arm. I jumped as his icy cold hands and arms wrapped around my middle. His face was pressed into my neck. He exhaled deeply before kissing the base of my throat. I smiled as he swayed with my movements.

“I think you should go like this. Show you off to all my friends,” Matthew hummed as he dragged his hands to the front of my hips. My hands stopped on two separate dresses and clenched the fabric in my fingers. “I think they’d enjoy that… I know I would,” he added, his thumbs playing with the lacy edges of my panties. I took a deep breath and stepped back, so I was flush against his body. 

“Matthew, obviously I can’t just go in my underwear.” I scoffed as he pushed me so there was a small space between us. I sighed deeply as he stepped away from me. “I’ll figure it out,” I rolled my eyes as he retreated to the bed. I filed through my dresses again before pulling out a black cocktail dress that I knew would drive Matthew crazy during the night. I dashed off to the bathroom to finish getting ready. “Zip me up?” I asked as I stepped back into the bedroom and stood behind Matthew. Shuffling came from behind me before he zipped my dress up.

“Ready to go?” he whispered. His breath hit the shell of my ear, causing me to swallow roughly. 

“Almost. Let me get my things together and I should be ready,” I sighed deeply. It’s going to be one of those nights, I just know it. Matthew pressed his lips to my cheek before walking away from me, again.

And that was my cue. I was quick. I’ve never been so fast to get ready for an event. He was probably getting out into the car as we speak. I grabbed a tube of lip gloss from the bathroom and tossed it into my bag before slipping a pair of plain black heels on. And then, I left the house.

And, as per my guess, Matthew was already sitting in his station wagon, waiting for me. I shuffled to the passenger’s side of the car and pulled the door open.

I looked over at Matthew as I slipped into the car. He was looking at himself in the mirror of the visor. I swallowed roughly as my eyes trailed from his perfectly sculpted face (lingering for a moment on his lips), down to his neck (where I would love to leave love bites), down his chest (and even though he was wearing a suit, I wanted to push off his dress shirt), and finally, down to his lap (a lap I would just love to sit on). And he was just there… Sitting there, doing his thing like I wasn’t imagining wanting to rip his clothes off to have sex with him right now. 

He dropped his hands from his face and rested them on his legs. I stared for a moment at his hands and their placement on his legs. I could feel my heart pick up and my head getting mildly dizzy. I took a deep breath and shook my head as I looked up at his face.

“Mm, now that’s a lap I could sit on,” I grinned at Matthew as I buckled my seatbelt in. The thought of grinding my ass into his crotch made me giggle lightly as I stared at him.

Matthew gawked as he looked over at me, his hands resting low on the steering wheel. I smiled as I folded my hands over my lap. I could feel Matthew’s eyes still on me as I looked out the window. 

“What did you just say?” he asked as he slowly started the car. I hummed before looking over at him. He was still staring at me with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

“Hm? Oh! I said are you ready? I can’t wait to see Kirsten and AJ.” I smiled as I looked at him. He raised an eyebrow, but his expression was now amused instead of shocked. At least he’s amused now… 

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what you said, Princess,” Matthew glanced at me as he started his car and pulled out of the driveway. I couldn’t tell if he actually meant to call me that pet name, or if he was just teasing. Either way, he knows it gets me going. 

“And, Aisha! Oh! I miss her!” I clapped my hands together. Matthew seemed to enjoy my excitement at seeing his friends and co-workers. It’s been a while since the wrap party for the show, so it’s been a while since either of us had seen them. “I still owe her $10 for that prank she helped me play when I visited the set that one day,” I grinned at Matthew.

“Yeah, sure, because stealing and hiding my fruit roll-ups is a prank,” he rolled his eyes as he glanced at me. I smiled and nodded. “Finding them a month later though was quite a pleasant surprise. I will admit that,” he laughed lightly.

“Listen, Matthew, you were the one who invited me to set. It’s not my fault I got bored while you were filming. Someone had to keep me entertained. I’m sorry it was Aisha who took that job. We had fun that day,” I laughed as I turned to face him. I crossed my legs as I looked at him.  I pulled my purse off my body and put it in the backseat, accidentally hitting Matthew in the face. “I’m so sorry.” I looked at him with wide eyes. He looked at me with a playful irritation on his face.

“Accidents happen, just don’t let it happen again,” he glanced at me. I smiled and nodded. 

  “Won’t let it happen again,” I looked out the windshield.

The drive to the restaurant was in a comfortable, yet somehow tense, silent. I couldn’t help myself when it came to making a comment or innuendo of some sort. Matthew didn’t seem too crazy bothered by it, if anything it looked like he enjoyed it. Of course, I knew I needed to stop before we went in. So, I stayed silent when he pulled into a parking spot. 

“You ready?” Matthew asked as he pushed the visor down. I reached back for my purse and pulled it in the front. I “accidentally” hit Matthew in the back of the head with my bag as I pulled it onto my lap. Oh, no, the first time was definitely an accident. The second time was 100% on purpose. No accident this time.

He dropped his shoulders and looked over at me, annoyance on his face. I looked down at my lap and bit my lips to refrain from smiling. Oh boy, I wonder what he’s going to do. Surely he won’t yell at me.

“Choke me, daddy,” I very jokingly teased as I looked at Matthew. He looked at me with shock on his face. I smirked as I began digging around in my purse for lip gloss. When I looked back up, Matthew threw his hand over my neck and pushed my head against the headrest. I widened my eyes and looked at him. I was relieved that he was just holding his hand there, not applying any pressure. But part of me really wanted him to do it. “I was joking,” I stated in a tone that said I wasn’t sure of myself. 

“I’m not so sure you were… Princess,” Matthew smiled at me before removing his hand and turning back to the visor. I pouted at the lack of his touch and looked at him. I moved closer to him and looked up at his face. “Can I help you,” he looked away from the tiny visor mirror and down at me. I smiled and nodded before puckering my lips. 

“Please,” I whispered and batted my eyelashes at him. He laughed before kissing my lips lightly. I pouted as I turned back in my seat. I glanced at Matthew and noticed that he was still fixing his mess of hair in the mirror. I turned back to face him, grabbing his hand again. He glanced at me for a moment before looking back at his reflection. I slowly brought his hand back to my throat and looked at him.

I swallowed roughly as I stared at him, keeping his hand on my throat. Matthew just continued to mess around with his hair. “Are you busy with my hand,” he asked looking at me. I pouted and pushed his hand away from me. 

“No, I’m not,” I muttered before looking down at my phone. I looked at Matthew and pouted. “But I’d like to be,” I glared at him as I placed my hand high on my bare thigh. 

“Hold on, what do you think you’re doing,” Matthew asked as his hand shot out to grasp my wrist. I smirked and looked over at him, pushing his hand off mine. 

“Well, I wanna have fun before we go in and you won’t have fun with me. So, I’m gonna do it myself. Unless you want to change your mind,” I snipped back as I brought my hand to my panties. I honestly should’ve just forgone the underwear tonight. I don’t know why I didn’t. I could feel through the thin fabric that I was wet. He didn’t even do a damn thing to get me as wet as I am. But here I am, nearly sitting in a puddle. I suppose he just has that effect on me.

I looked at Matthew as I slid my hand into my panties and pressed a finger into my center, collecting some wetness on my finger. I gasped and lightly closed my eyes. I slowly moved my finger around my clit as I looked back at Matthew. He was silently watching me for a minute. The way he looked at me told me he was pissed. I've never seen him so mad before. I let out a soft moan as I pressed my head into the headrest.

“Matthew,” I whimpered as I looked at him. He shifted slightly in his seat as he looked back at me. I slowly circled my finger around my clit as I locked eyes with him. My breathing grew labored as I brought my free hand to my breast, kneading it over my shirt and bra. Just as I started to pick up speed, Matthew’s hand grasped my wrist and stilled my movements. I looked at him, alarmed and frustrated. He seriously did not just do that.  

“Get in the backseat, we’ll have to be quick,” he muttered as he yanked my hand from my panties. I looked at him with wide eyes. He was looking at my wet finger before putting it in his mouth. I took a deep breath, feeling more overwhelmed by the second. “Go on,” he half-ordered as he nodded to the back seat. “Don’t make me say it again,” he muttered when I stayed frozen in my seat. I nodded before getting out of the front seat and trying to move fast to the back. 

I sat in the middle of the bench seat and shimmied out of my panties. Matthew was quick to sit beside me in the backseat. He didn’t even give me time to understand what was about to happen. That’s okay, I just know I’ll get what I want.  

He gently pushed me so I was lying across the bench and he hovered over me and in between my legs. One of his knees stayed between my legs, making it so I couldn’t press them together for any sort of pleasure. Part of me hated it when he was like this, but another part loved it. He knew that too. 

“You are being such a bad girl,” he whispered, bringing his hand back to my throat. I gasped and pressed my head into the seat. I looked up at him and nodded, telling him it was more than okay to do this. He gently and carefully put pressure into his grip as he stared down at me. I struggled slightly to breathe as I locked eyes with him again. “Touching yourself in the parking lot before we go into a dinner party… With my friends nonetheless,” he kept his voice low. Matthew brought his other hand down between my legs, resting it at the top of my thighs.

“I’m sorry,” I struggled to speak as I threw a hand over his one on my neck. He cocked his head slightly as he stared at me. 

“You’re sorry, Princess?” he questioned, slowly moving his hand closer to my center. My eyes rolled into the back of my head as he moved my panties to the side. I tried to swallow roughly and nodded. “Sorry just isn’t going to do it,” he spoke, causing me to open my eyes. 

 I tapped my fingers on the back of his hand, silently telling him that I really needed air. His eyes flashed slightly with concern as he removed his hand. I took a deep breath like it was my first time breathing. It was like fire in my lungs as I inhaled and felt like I was mildly high as I exhaled.

“I won’t do it again,” I whispered as I looked up at him. We both knew that I was clearly lying when I said that. Any chance I get to act like this, I’ll do it. A small smile twitched on his lips as he inserted a finger into my center. I gasped and closed my eyes as he pumped his finger in and out of me. 

“I don’t believe you,” he whispered, pushing his hand into my hair. I stared at him, shock on my face. “You know you’ll have to be punished for that. Right, Princess,” he asked as he rubbed my clit with his thumb.  I whimpered and bit my lips together before nodding. “Mm-hmm, use your words,” his words were low. I swallowed roughly and stared at him.

“Yes, yes, I know. I know,” I spoke fast like if I didn’t speak fast enough I wouldn’t have words to say. I brought my hands to his belt buckle, going to undo his belt. I yelped when he grabbed both my hands with his one free hand. He held my hands above my head and smiled down at me.

“I’m in charge here, Princess, you know that,” Matthew moved his thumb faster. I wiggled and nodded. He leaned down close to my ear before whispering, “You don’t get to come till I tell you you can. Okay?” his tone was mildly teasing. His breath hit the shell of my ear, causing me to shiver slightly. I took a deep and shaky breath as I stared at him, a certain excitement setting in my belly. I was okay with it, honestly. 

“Matthew,” I whined as I inadvertently bucked my hips to his hand. He pulled his hand away from my center, causing me to whine loudly. I stared at him in protest. “Yes, I understand,” I cried as I stared at him. He smiled before sticking his fingers between my lips. I sucked them clean, free of my arousal, as I stared at him. He smiled at me before pulling his fingers from my mouth and placing his hand on my jawline. 

“Good girl,” he whispered. But the way he said it told me I wasn’t really a good girl. No, I knew I wasn’t a good girl. However, I was getting what I wanted, so who’s really winning and in charge? I just needed to be like this more often.

Matthew removed his hand from my face and down to his belt. Somehow, he managed to get his belt buckle undone with one hand, and managed to undo his pants. I looked down as he pulled himself out of his pants and boxers. I whined and tried to pull my hands. My hips ground into the seat beneath me to get some sort of pleasure. 

“Wanna touch you,” I cried as I pulled my hands from his grip. He laughed as his grip on my wrists got a little tighter. “Please,” I whined looking between his face and down at his length. “Matthew, please,” 

“You should have thought of that before that stunt you pulled,” he whispered before stroking himself a few times. I let out a loud whine and wiggled in my spot. He groaned slowly before lining himself up to my entrance.

 I’ve never wanted to touch this man so badly in my entire life. I wanted to run my hands in his hair, tugging at the hair on the back of his head. I wanted to drag my hands all over his chest, leaving red scratchy marks in their wake. And I wanted to wrap my fingers and hands around his cock. He is killing me right now. 

The head of his cock was pressed against me, causing me to inhale deeply. He smiled before slowly entering me. I struggled to stay still and quiet as he slowly bottomed out. I swallowed roughly as my breathing became ragged. 

“Oh, Princess,” Matthew mocked as he looked down at me as he slowly started moving his hips. I whimpered as I continuously tried to pull my hands from his grip. A smile twitched on his lips again, further frustrating me. Bastard knows how to mess with me and I hated it more than anything in the world. 

Matthew slowly, and carefully, picked up the pace of his hips. The way he brought his lips to mine made me feel dizzy. He knew how to kiss, with lips like his? Of course, he knew how to kiss. He carefully bit my lower lip before kissing his way down my jaw and to my neck. He left a small love bite on the nape of my neck, making it difficult to breathe. This level of excitement would kill me.

“Fuck,” I cried, throwing my head to the side. Matthew laughed and shook his head. A moan so loud, I swear it came from the pit of my stomach, came from my lips. He laughed again as he looked down at me

"You need to be a little quieter," he whispered into my ear. He clamped a hand over my mouth and nose to silence me. I whimpered against his hand and nodded. 

He has to know how close I’m getting. I was about to be in more trouble than I already am. He keeps playing me the way he is. If he did anything else, I would be screwed. No, no wait. I already am screwed, or being screwed. 

“You getting close,” he grunted. I sighed and nodded, trying to hold back a moan. His face twitched as he smiled at me. I closed my eyes, not wanting to look too long at him. I knew if I kept my eyes on him I’d break. I can’t break now. He’s right though, I am getting close. 

I nodded, as if my answer would give me what I wanted. He smiled before pressing his lips to mine in a rough way. When he finally pulled his hand from my wrists, I pushed my hands through his hair and kept them firmly placed on the back of his head. He groaned as I tugged lightly on his hair.

“Mmm,” I looked up at him as he pulled his head away from me. I bit my lips together and nodded. I wrapped my legs around his waist to pull him closer to me. My heels dug into his lower back as I gripped his tie with one hand. 

Matthew hooked his arm under one of my knees and lifted my leg slightly to get a better angle. I cried when a burn started to grow in my hamstring, but also when he pressed deeper into me. I closed my eyes and pressed my head into the seat. I could feel myself getting closer. Maybe he forgot what he said?

And then he stopped his movements. I opened my eyes and looked up at him, feeling anger grow suddenly on my face. Matthew was looking down at me with a smile on his lips. Although, I knew it must’ve been hard for him to stop. He was just happy to see me suffer. 

“I hate you. Please, please,” I pulled on his tie to bring him closer to my face. Matthew smiled at me before pressing his lips to mine. I whined against his lips. He laughed before slowly moving his hips again. “I’m so close,” I managed to get out through pants. 

“Yeah,” he asked the obvious. I screwed my eyes shut and nodded. I’m sure if I had it in me, I would have been more than sarcastic. But I couldn’t even begin to try. I’m sure he would keep teasing me if I was sarcastic, so my best bet was to either stay quiet or let out a grotesque sound. I went with the latter. That seemed to please Matthew. 

“Promise you won’t do that again,” he brought his hand to push my hair away from my face, before resting it on my cheek. I swallowed roughly and nodded. “Uh, use your words, Princess,” 

“I… I promise…” I spoke, my voice was soft and shaky. I pressed both my hands flat on his chest as I looked up at him. He smiled softly and nodded.

“Come on, come for me,” he whispered, keeping his hips moving at a steady pace. After a moment, I felt my body snap and tighten around him. I threw my arms back around his neck as I buried my face into his body. I shouted his name when I reached my high. My body arched up into his, and he held me close.

Matthew’s movements faltered slightly and a groan fell from his lips. I could feel him release inside me as he rode out his orgasm. Oh, that bastard. 

He gently rested me back down on the seat. I looked up at him and laughed, bringing my hands to rest on his cheeks. He looked down at me, smiled before laughing.

“I don’t know what’s so funny,” he mused as he moved away from me and sat at the way opposite end of the seat. I stayed lying down, watching as he tucked himself back in his pants.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” I smiled at him, watching as he went to the front seat. He moved a few things around before coming back to me with a handful of napkins and a pack of wet wipes. “I think I might have to break my promise and do that again,” I laughed at him again. 

“Well, now we’re late, so I hope you’re happy,” he mumbled as he cleaned between my legs. I flinched at the coolness of the wipes. When he finished cleaning me up, as best he could, he grasped my hands and pulled me so I was sitting up. I looked at him and smiled. 

“Yeah, I got my fun,” I kissed his lips. I reached upfront for my bag and pushed Matthew out of the car. I quickly fixed my hair in the reflection of the window before following close behind him. 

Of course, when we entered the restaurant, loud chatter came from the far side. Everything told me that it was Matthew’s friends doing all the talking. 

“There he is!” A familiar and friendly voice shouted as we got closer to the table. I stood beside Matthew and smiled at him. “With his lovely girlfriend,” 

“Kirsten! It’s great to see you,” I smiled at her when I saw who was talking. I walked around to embrace her. Shemar whispered something to Adam before looking over at Matthew, then at me, and then back at me.

"So sorry we're late," Matthew spoke as he pulled a chair out for me. I glanced at him before sitting. He sat beside me and smiled. "I forgot something at home and had to turn back to get it. And then the traffic here was awful." The lie he told was so easy. I'm impressed he told it so easily. 

"And I needed to change. There was a stain on the front of my dress." I looked down at my dress that I’ve been in since we left the house. I did not change... 

“You’re both walking like you just had sex,” Shemar looked between Matthew and I. I looked up at Matthew before looking at the table. I could feel my cheeks warm up. “You didn’t,”

“Yeah, we… we just had sex.” I muttered.

taglist: @boiled-onionrings​ @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ @spencer-reid-enthusiast​

[chaoticpuff17]

Suga We’re Going Down

part 12

masterlist

Hello, my darlings! I have an update for you!  Please enjoy the drama that will be unfolding in this chapter as well as the chapters to come.--- chaotic puff

Y/N was grateful for the extra money her new job brought in, but it didn’t make the new found separation with her son any easier.  At least once a weekend she was called away, and it was usually overnight. It was hard on both of them. Eun Jae didn’t understand why his mother was away so much, and she hated seeing him upset. It was why she was taking the time to take him to the park. 

She should have been working on some project or another, but she was much happier watching her son run around the playground with a wide smile on his face. He loved the park, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty that she didn’t get to take him there more often. Today was a perfect day for it though. It was unseasonably warm, and Eun Jae could run around in a lighter jacket instead of his heavier winter coat which gave the little boy more ease of movement as he dashed around the playground. 

Y/N was lost in her thoughts watching her favorite little guy when she noticed the other moms beginning to whisper amongst themselves. She didn’t pay it much mind though as she assumed it was just the latest neighborhood gossip. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t been whispered about before either. She was an unwed mother. It got her plenty of ridicule from the other moms. What was odd was how they had started to gather around, moving closer to where she was. She knew well enough that they weren’t going to suddenly welcome her into the fold, so why were they getting closer? 

“Y/N?” 

She froze knowing who she would see if she turned around and hoping against hope that he would just disappear. He didn’t. 

“What are you doing here?” she hissed running to face him. 

“I just want to see him. Is that so bad?” he asked pasting on the most contrite pair of puppy dog eyes he could manage. 

“Yes!” she cast a quick glance over her shoulder making sure that Eun Jae hadn’t noticed anything yet. He hadn’t. He was blissfully unaware and running around the playground with the other toddlers. “You can’t be here.” 

“I just want to see him. He’s my son.” 

“Kim Taehyung.” she snapped, shooting him a withering glare. “He is not your son, and you need to go.” 

“He’s my kid.” he pleaded, peering around her trying to catch sight of the little boy. “I just want to meet him.” 

“That’s not your decision to make.” she squared her shoulders and did her best to make the same stoic, terrifying face her grandmother made when she was displeased. “You should leave.” 

Taehyung scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared her down. Neither of them was willing to budge, but unlike Taehyung, she had paternal rights. “You can’t make me go.” 

“I can call the cops and say that there’s a strange man harassing me and my child.” her head tilted to the side sassily as she waited for him to back down. 

“Like the cops would believe that the heir to Singularity Enterprises was harassing you. I can promise you they won’t.” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m not going to hurt him.” 

“Take a look around, Taehyung. You really think you belong here?” she huffed, placing her hands on her hips casting her gaze around her neighborhood. It wasn’t a bad area per say, but it certainly wasn’t what Taehyung was used to, and he stood out like a sore thumb in his designer clothes. They were already attracting the gazes of the other moms. “Eun Jae certainly doesn’t need another parental figure to dip in and out of his life like the utter failure they are. So you want to meet him now? What’s going to happen in a month when you get bored of playing house?” Taehyung stared at her in shock. People didn’t talk to him like this. “Do us all a favor and go.” 

“I’m not going to abandon him.” he protested, recovering himself. “He’s my kid.” 

“Great! Where were you the past three years?” 

“I wasn’t allow…” 

“Don’t.” she scoffed. “You’re a grown man. You could have been here if you wanted to.” 

“I’m here now. I want to meet him.” 

“How is that fair to us?” 

“How is it fair that I don’t get to be a part of his life?” he countered. 

“You signed away your rights before he was even born. He doesn’t know you, and he doesn’t need you.” 

“Every kid needs a father.” 

She sighed pinching the bridge of her nose as she did her best not to yell at the man. “He’s a kid, Taehyung, a baby. He doesn’t need anymore disappointing parental figures. You want to be here now, but what happens when you get a family of your own? Eun Jae is always going to be your teenage indiscretion, but he’s my whole world.” 

“He’s not…” 

Before either of them could continue, a little body smashed into her legs wrapping little arms tightly around them. 

“Swings, eomma!” he demanded staring up at her with a bright smile. 

Both adults were frozen staring down at the little boy. Taehyung was the first to recover, kneeling down to the toddler's height with a bright, boxy grin. 

“Hey, buddy.” he greeted not even phased as Eun Jae retreated hiding behind his mother’s legs as he stared at the stranger with wide eyes. “It’s nice to meet you.” the little boy said nothing, choosing instead to cling to his mother’s legs even tighter than before. “I’m Taehyung.” 

Eun Jae ignored him, pulling on her tunic-like shirt instead. “Swings?” he asked again, staring up at his mother with big pleading eyes. 

“Okay, baby.” she hummed, running a gentle hand through his hair. “Let’s go to the swings.” 

The toddler nodded furiously reaching up to grab her hand, tugging her towards the playground. “Swings, eomma, swings!” 

She followed behind her child praying that Taehyung would get the hint and leave. Eun Jae had in typical fashion for the toddler, rejected the stranger preferring the company of his mother, but Taehyung didn’t seem to care as he followed behind them a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Eomma.” Eun Jae tugged on her hand again. “Who’s the weird man?” 

Y/N did her best to suppress the laugh that bubbled up, but she didn’t quite succeed. Instead a choked chuckle like snort erupted. “He’s just a weird man, baby.” 

“I’m a friend of your eomma’s.” Taehyung interrupted catching up to them and addressing the toddler with a smile that just didn’t seem to get any less bright no matter how many times they both rejected him. 

“No you’re not.” he frowned, glaring up at the adult. “Auntie Nina is eomma’s friend.” he explained, his brows scrunched up in confusion. 

“Eomma can have more than one friend.” The look on the kid’s face told them both that he didn’t think so. It was a blank expression that looked far too similar to Taehyung’s for her comfort, and it didn’t escape Taehyung’s notice either. “He kinda looks like me doesn’t he?” He smirked, staring down at the child proudly. 

“No.” Eun Jae frowned. “I look like Eomma. Halmeoni said so. You’re a weird man.” he pouted, once more clinging to his mother’s legs. 

“You can look like more than one person.” Taehyung explained even though Eun Jae only buried his face into her leg. 

“I don’t want swings.” He whined reaching his arms up in a silent plea to be held, and Y/N complied, swinging the toddler up onto her hip where he promptly buried his face in her neck. “I don’t like him. Wanna go home.” 

Y/N gently bounced him on her hip, hushing him as his little fingers clenched her shirt. “You wanna go home, Jae Jae?” She cooed, rubbing his back with her free hand as he nodded into her neck. “Okay, baby. Let’s go home.” 

“Y/N.” Taehyung called out, reaching for her as she began to walk away.

“I think you’ve done enough for one day.” She hissed, tightening her grip on her child. “Don’t you?” 

She strode away, hyper aware of the stares of both Taehyung and the other mothers as she did. This was going to be the talk of the playground for at least a week or two, and Y/N wasn’t looking forward to the invasive questions she would get asked the next time she and Eun Jae went there. 

Y/N didn’t want to admit it, but she moved more quickly than she would have normally as she took her son home. She was rattled. As much as she hated to admit it, she was rattled. She didn’t like Taehyung showing up in her neighborhood, at her park. She didn’t like the fact that he ignored her wishes and met Eun Jae. 

If she had wanted them to meet, she would have prepared. She would have explained things to the toddler. She would have arranged things so that they were in a safe and comfortable place for both her and Eun Jae. She certainly wouldn’t have suggested he ambush them at the park. 

The fact of the matter was that she  was Eun Jae’s mother, and she was the only one that had parental rights. Ha Jin didn’t, and Taehyung certainly didn’t. He didn’t get to decide what was best for Eun Jae. He didn’t get to show up on a whim. He didn’t get to uproot their lives because he suddenly decided he wanted to be part of the life of a child he couldn’t have given a shit about until he ran into her the week before. 

“Eomma?” Eun Jae asked as she unlocked the door to her apartment. 

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Pororo?” 

“Sure, buddy.” She agreed, kicking off her shoes and shutting the door behind them, before taking off Eu Jae’s shoes as well. 

The toddler was quick to run into the apartment and settle himself in front of her small television as she put on the cartoon for him. It was one of his favorites, and she couldn’t blame him. The penguin was pretty cute. 

“Eomma?” he called as she went to the kitchen to get a snack for him. 

“Yeah, buddy?” 

“Cuddles?” he pleaded, staring at her with big puppy dog eyes. 

She smiled, handing him a little bowl of dried mango slices. “Sure, buddy. Eomma just has to make a quick phone call first. Okay?” 

He nodded, flopping back down with his snack as he turned his attention to the cartoon penguin and his dinosaur friend. 

Y/N moved back to the kitchen pulling out her phone as she considered what she was going to tell Yoongi. She was meant to go to his concert, but she didn’t feel right leaving Eun Jae, not after what had happened at the park. Part of her was terrified that Taehyung was going to show up while she was gone and take him away. 

“Angel?” Yoongi’s raspy voice asked from the other end of the line.

“Hi.” She sighed out shakily. Yoongi was quick to pick up on it. Nothing ever seemed to slip past him.

“Is everything alright?” Concern colored his tone, and she could hear people moving around in the background. 

Part of her felt bad for calling when she knew he was busy preparing for his concert, but Eun Jae had to come first. He always had to come first. “I’m so sorry, but I’m not going to be able to make it to the concert.” 

There was a drawn out pause, and she could practically see the scowl on his face. 

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, voice lowering into a growl. “Are you alright? I can send Jackson…” 

“No!” she was quick to stop him. “No. I’m just not feeling well. I just need to stay home and rest.” 

It was a lie, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. 

“Are you alright? Do you have a fever? Do you need to go to the doctor?” he demanded, and she was half convinced he was going to come to see her himself if she didn’t cut him off soon. “I’ll send Jackson over to take you to the doctor. I’ll set up an appointment…”

“That’s really not necessary. I just need to rest. I’ll be fine in a day or two.” she promised, knowing full well she was perfectly fine now. 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure. I’m sorry for missing your concert.” 

“Just get better.” he sighed heavily. “You can come to the next one.” 

“Thank you.” 

“If you need anything, call.” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

She hung up shortly after not knowing the mayhem she had caused for Yoongi’s staff. The mixture of her cancellation and worry for her health had put the rapper into a horrible mood. A worried Yoongi wasn’t a pleasant Yoongi.

part 13

[thedragonnerd]

Ficlet: Betrayal

(Inspired by this lovely anon)

Namaari has never seen Raya so still.

She’s used to Raya being full of energy and tightly coiled reactions, running around finding things to do, people to spar with, or adventures to get lost within. Even at dinner, Raya cannot be motionless, instead jostling her leg or bumping shoulders with Namaari, and Council meetings are a lost cause when it comes to hoping Raya will sit quietly through the entire meeting without finding some reason to escape early.

But now she lies still, her eyes closed and her lips pale and drained of blood. Namaari keeps her eyes fixated on Raya’s breathing, where the slight up-and-down of her chest is the only thing that proves Raya is still alive.

The doctor has said that if she can survive the night, she will be much more likely to make a full recovery. Yet when Namaari places her palm on Raya’s cheek, the skin is cold to touch. Her other hand clutches onto Raya’s fingers, and she tries to share her strength through sheer determination, attempting to manifest Raya’s recovery into existence with her willpower.

-

‘Maari, are you almost dooone?’ Raya asks with a whine, her lips pouting dramatically as she flops down into the chair opposite Namaari’s desk. ‘I’ve been waiting for ages already.’

Namaari lowers her paperwork for a moment, peering across at Raya with a small smile on her face. Raya hates to sit and wait in her office, and the fact that she has been quietly reading for so long already shows her willingness to let Namaari work for the afternoon.

‘I’m sorry, dep la,’ she says with a sigh, wishing she could escape and spend time sparring with Raya instead, as she had promised. Duty always seems to call, however. ‘I have to finish signing off on these policies, and I’m only half-way finished.’

Raya groans, her head lowering to the desk until her forehead is resting on the table.

‘Why don’t you go and find something to do?’ Namaari suggests, recognising Raya will only get more and more restless from here on. Raya turns her head slightly, so she can peek at Namaari’s face through her hair.

‘Are you sure?’ she asks. ‘I don’t want to leave you alone with this tedious work.’

‘Absolutely,’ Namaari reassures her with a smile. ‘Go and have fun, and I’ll join you later.’

‘Great, I’ll go find someone to spar with for a while,’ Raya jumps up enthusiastically. ‘And if you haven’t reappeared in two hours from now, I’m going to come back and drag you outside. You need a break yourself too.’

She rounds the desk, grabbing Namaari’s face with both her hands, and kisses her deeply for a moment. Then she flees out the door with a backwards wave, Namaari watching her retreating figure with a smile.

Namaari throws herself into the paperwork with more vigour, determined to get it done so she can join Raya. She doesn’t even notice the two hours passing, so wrapped up in reading policy articles on fishing.

Raya never shows.

-

Virana comes to sit with her when the hour is nearing midnight, her arm resting around Namaari’s shoulders as they wait in silence.

‘I sent word to Chief Benja,’ she says softly after a while. Namaari nods, but says nothing else. Benja has trusted them – trusted her – to keep Raya safe during her visits to Fang. And yet here they are, Namaari without a scratch on her, whilst Raya fights for her life in the darkness. Would he ever be able to forgive them, if Raya dies? Would it cause a war between their lands?

Would Namaari ever be able to forgive herself?

‘I wasn’t even there to protect her, Ma,’ she chokes, unable to keep the tears from leaking out. The guilt is suffocating.

-

‘Raya?’ she calls, walking briskly through the palace. Dusk is beginning to move in; she feels bad for working so long without realising where the time went. Clearly, Raya also got distracted by her activities. Often when one (or better, both) of them are sparring, it draws a crowd of eager onlookers, so perhaps tonight Raya has decided to teach a lesson to anyone who wants to challenge her fighting abilities.

However, it’s been long enough that she’s also slightly concerned, especially when she sees most of the usual sparring partner culprits back in the palace, doing their guard duties or otherwise.

Still, her best assumption is that Raya will still be at the training grounds, so she hurries outside and makes her way over to the large open area.

‘Raya?’ she calls again, not seeing anyone moving in the evening light. It seems quiet…too quiet.

And then she sees a shape on the ground.

‘Raya, what-?’ she cries, racing forwards and dropping to her knees. Raya is lying still and pale on the ground, and it takes a moment for Namaari to realize the earth surrounding her is stained dark red from blood.

‘Raya…Raya, wake up,’ she pleads, one shaking hand sliding under Raya’s shoulders and cradling her close to her body, the other pressing down hard on the stab wound in her abdomen. The blood seeps through her fingers, trickling down her wrist as she desperately tries to stop it.

‘Somebody help!’ she screams into the night.

-

Ma leaves her at some point in the early hours of the morning, kissing her forehead before heading off to sleep. She doesn’t even try to ask Namaari to get some rest, knows that she won’t. Not tonight.

Not long after, there is a soft knock at the door, and General Atitaya peers into the room.

‘Princess Namaari?’ she asks quietly. ‘I can relieve you of your post if you wish to retire for the night. Keep watch over her, for you?’

It’s a wasted offer, and Namaari is already shaking her head before the other woman finishes speaking.

‘No thank you,’ she says, her eyes never leaving Raya’s face. ‘Her attacker is still out there, and I’m not going to leave her until they are apprehended.’

Besides Raya’s injuries, that is the worst part of this attack – that it must have been carried out by a Fang citizen, who has now willingly betrayed both their land and, on a more personal level, Namaari herself. She has dedicated her life to protecting her people, and the realization that one of her own could have done this leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, and anger in her veins.

Namaari doesn’t even notice Atitaya leave. Her two swords sit close, ready to reach in an instant if someone dares to try and attack Raya again, and she leans forwards, tension running through her muscles as she continues her vigil.

The rest of the night is quiet, with no-one else disturbing them besides the doctor, who checks on Raya sporadically.

And then, just as the warm rays of the sun begin to filter through the window, Namaari hears a sound.

‘Raya?’ she calls, up on her feet instantly and leaning over the bed.

Raya shifts her head slightly, emitting a slight groan, and then her eyes flutter open.

-

‘Maari, come back to bed,’ Raya grumbles, her voice filled with the scratchy tone Namaari only hears in the morning. She laughs softly at the sight before her: Raya’s disgruntled face peering out from beneath the covers, her hair in a massively tangled mess around her face, and her mouth turned down slightly in the corners as she sees Namaari already up and dressed.

‘I have a lot of work to do today,’ Namaari says apologetically, although she does take a moment to bend down and give Raya a proper kiss good morning. ‘Hours of paperwork that you’ll just find boring.’

Raya wrinkles her nose at this, and burrows deeper into the bed, dragging Namaari down with her, a tight grasp on her wrist.

‘Tell you what,’ Namaari continues, attempting not to faceplant into the bedcovers thanks to Raya’s pulling. ‘If you let me go now, I’ll try to get the work done as quickly as possible, and then we can go spar together this afternoon.’

‘Fiiine,’ comes Raya’s voice from the depths of the bed. ‘Go do your boring work. I’ll bring food and my own amazing company later. And after, you owe me a fight.’

-

She finds her in the barn, tying a heavily-laden bag to her serlot.

‘Atitaya,’ she calls, and the General spins around quickly, hand moving towards her weapon before she sees who it is and deliberately relaxes her stance.

‘Princess,’ she greets, head bowing in the appropriate manner.

‘You’ll be pleased to hear that Raya has woken up,’ Namaari continues, her voice deceptively light in comparison to the blood roaring through her veins. ‘Interestingly, she’s also able to identify her attacker.’

They stare at each other for a moment, neither willing to be the first one to flinch. Then Atitaya drops her gaze to the ground, and although Namaari had believe Raya instantly when she said the name, the confirmation still hits her like a stab to the heart.

‘Ati…Ati, why?’ she whispers, and this time she can’t help her voice shaking as she tries to hold back the horror and the tears. ‘We grew up together. I trusted you with my life – with HER life. How could you betray me like this?’

Atitaya’s expression darkens at this, and Namaari sees her mouth twist into an ugly grimace.

‘Because you betrayed us first, Namaari,’ she snaps, fists clenching. ‘You bring the Princess of our enemy into our land, into our palace. You trust her with all of Fang, share all our secrets. She is your greatest vulnerability, a threat to our people, and if I did nothing, I thought she would bring death to our doorstep.’

‘Raya isn’t a threat to us,’ Namaari counters. ‘She isn’t a spy; Heart isn’t our enemy. We aren’t at war any more, Atitaya. We haven’t been for a long time. The only person who risked changing that was you.’

Atitaya raises her chin in defiance.

‘I did what I thought was right for our people, no matter the sacrifice. Just like you used to be willing to do.’

Namaari always thought her anger ran hot, a passionate burst of emotion that drove her in fights. But in reality, her rage runs through her body like a chill, and her mind feels separate from her body as a deadly calm settles over her.

‘I should kill you where you stand,’ she says softly. ‘If Raya had died, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.’

For the first time, apprehension flutters across Atitaya’s face.

‘You’re lucky that Raya is more forgiving than I am,’ Namaari finishes, and then whistles loudly. At once, the barn is filled with soldiers, all training their weapons on their former General.

Namaari turns and walks away, refusing to look over her shoulder as voices ordering Atitaya to surrender filter up around her.

She doesn’t want to waste another minute here – she has Raya waiting for her, and she’s promised to entertain her through her mandatory bed rest, duties be damned. After all, Raya doesn’t like to be still for too long.