#between his dancing in the rain emote and the one where he spins in the air before posing...

[meow-super-cat]

My main take away from V's existence in DMC5 is that Vergil is, in fact, an absolute fucking nerd underneath it all.

[prythianpages]

A Light That Never Goes Out | Azriel

Azriel x Rhysand's sister (reader) | The aftermath of Azriel kissing you in front of everyone in the Court of Nightmares.

warnings: angry Rhys, angry High Lord, brief mention of Tamsand, mating bond snapping

word count: roughly 3K, around 3.5K if you read the bonus scene

a/n: This is a part two to this but can be read as a stand alone. I had fun writing this but I worry this sounded better in my head. I was tempted to turn this into a crack fic bc of this trending tiktok sound.

Azriel kisses you, consequences be damned. His hand slides from yours to the nape of your neck, drawing you closer. You kiss him back with the same intensity, years of longing and love pouring into this single moment. Your mind and thoughts tangling with his, the bond between you surging with emotion. Desire and hope. He’s still in disbelief that tonight was the first night he told you he loved you.

But in truth, Azriel had been telling you all along—in every glance, every touch, every kiss that held more than words ever could.

Azriel’s shadows recoil as the two of you pull apart, breathless. The Court of Nightmares had faded away, the two of you lost in each other. It’s just you and him, as it is meant to be…Until the distinctive footsteps of your father approaching echoes throughout the ballroom. Your eyes are wide, too many emotions swirling within their depths. 

But Azriel is relieved that regret is not one of them.

“Azriel.”

The High Lord’s voice is calm and collected but the fury flickering in his violet eyes is unmistakable. He stands no more than two feet away, the authority radiating from him as cold as it is absolute. Beside him, Rhysand watches, his expression unreadable. 

Your father lifts a hand, wisps of darkness and starlight spilling from his fingertips. The orchestra resumes under the silent command and driven by some invisible force, the guests resume dancing and drinking. As if nothing had happened. 

“Come with me,” your father says, his tone leaving no room for argument. His command is directed solely at Azriel. “I’d like to have a word.”

 You try to hold on to Azriel, to keep him close, but he slips his fingers from yours, bowing his head in quiet submission to your father. Without another word, he follows after him. And though his command had been directed solely at Azriel, the weight of the situation falls on the both of you. 

So you step forward, determined to follow after them. But just as you step outside the ballroom, Rhysand grasps your arm, forcing you to a stop.

“You stupid, foolish…,” his voice trails off in frustration. “What have you done?”

You spin on him, eyes flashing with anger as you yank your arm out of his hold. “What have I done? What about what have you done? Planning marriage alliances behind my back? Like I’m some pawn on your chessboard?”

Rhysand’s gaze softens for a brief moment. “Y/n, I–”

“No.” You interrupt sharply, starlight beginning to swirl from the fingertip you point at him. You don’t want to hear his excuse, whatever justification he thinks will make this right. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Cassian and Mor making their way toward you, slipping through the dancing couples and out of the ballroom. 

The starlight seeping from your fingertip glows brighter, ready and poised to attack. However, it’s your words you speak into his mind that make the blow instead.

“You know, if you love that runt from Spring so much, why don’t you marry him yourself?”

Rhysand’s eyes widen, his brows furrowing as the meaning of your words hit him. The revelation that you know his secret. Where he’d sneak off to some nights. Why the scent of crisp rain and earth lingered on him when he’d return. You and Azriel had pieced it together after Cassian had mentioned that his book on Illyrian training and methods suddenly went missing. Given your secret, you and Azriel had kept that information to yourselves, waiting for the moment Rhysand would feel comfortable to tell you himself. 

It takes him a moment to regain his composure, for his gaze to harden again. His lips curl into a snarl–a warning.  “Y/n.”

He leans in forward but you take a step back and winnow away, only one thing on your mind. Finding Azriel.

**

The walk to the High Lord’s private office in the Court of Nightmares is silent but the sense of foreboding is nearly deafening. Azriel is tense, his shadows quiet and burrowing into his leathers. Too many possibilities and consequences storm through his mind, each one more damning than the last.

Does he regret kissing you in front of everyone? No.

That kiss was the first honest, uninhibited thing he’d allowed himself to do in years. It was freeing, exhilarating to be able to show everyone, especially the sons of Spring and Autumn that you were his and he was yours. He could face death for this—for touching the High Lord’s daughter. For kissing you so openly, so brazenly, in front of the entire court.

But why? Why should it be so wrong for him to love you? Because of his birth? The scars of his past that marked him as unworthy? He’s served loyally. Bled for this court.Tortured for this court. 

He’s watched from the shadows as lords and sons, full of false charm, have circled you like vultures, eyeing you as nothing more than a prize to be claimed.  And yet, when he—who knows you, who cherishes you—shows his love, it is considered a crime.

It isn’t fair. But Azriel has never been afforded fairness. 

The heavy doors to the High Lord's office swing open with a wave of his hand, and Azriel steps inside. The air is thick with tension, and every muscle in his body tightens. The High Lord gestures for him to sit, but Azriel bows his head, respectfully declining. Standing feels safer. Less vulnerable. He wonders if his refusal will anger the High Lord further, but the single shadow curling at his ear reports no rising fury.

He can feel the weight of the High Lord’s gaze—it’s heavy, scrutinizing, like the cold press of a blade against his skin. He keeps his eyes forward, even though his heart pounds in his chest. If there’s punishment to be had, Azriel will accept it.

The High Lord moves to his desk, positioned beneath an oculus, where moonlight spills through and dances across his features. He gazes up at the starlit sky as if searching for answers—or perhaps, waiting.

“Normally, this is the part where people like you should be begging for forgiveness, for a way to rectify your mistake.”

Azriel’s jaw tightens. “I haven’t made a mistake.”

“No?” The High Lord’s gaze snaps back to him, piercing as if he could peel away Azriel’s very skin to lay bare his soul. Azriel wonders, for a brief moment, if your daemati powers had been inherited from your father. Could the High Lord see into his mind, his thoughts? Have kept this power to himself all these years as a secret weapon? 

“You sound so sure of yourself,” the High Lord continues, his tone sharpening. “Tell me, how long has this... affair been going on?”

“For decades.” Azriel admits, knowing that there was no use in lying. The truth was already written in the way he kissed you, in the way he looked at you as you broke away from the kiss.

“For decades?” The High Lord repeats, his expression darkening, violet eyes narrowing. “You took my daughter’s first dance tonight of all nights.”

Azriel’s silence says everything. Both of them aware that Azriel had taken more than dances, more than a kiss.

“You’ve taken her innocence. You’ve ruined her…” The High Lord continues to seethe in that cool, unnerving tone.

Azriel’s fingers twitch at his sides, fighting the urge to reach for his dagger. Not to defend himself, but because it’s his only comfort in moments like these.

But this is not a battle to be fought with daggers or swords. This is a battle of love, of politics, of status. One he’s had no training for yet one he’s willing to fight. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d fight against all odds.

“Whether she marries Spring or Autumn, she will become a lady of the highest esteem and forge a strong alliance with my court. Laden with all the riches and wonders only a High Lord can offer. What can you offer? You don’t even have a proper last name to give her, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel swallows thickly, the weight and shame of his low-born status crashing into him like the violent current of Illyria’s river. It feels like he’s sinking under it, drowning in it. He knows he can’t offer you what any son of Spring or Autumn could. He had reminded you of that—again and again. 

It’s as if you can feel his doubts creeping back in, the poison of guilt and worthlessness seeping in. Your presence—soft, warm, and steady—enters his mind. You bring forth the memory you had shared with him moments ago on the dance floor again.

“I can’t give you much,” his voice had dropped to a whisper, barely a rasp as he leaned his forehead against yours. His nose brushed against yours, his lips hovering just over your own. “But I can give you everything I have.”

“That’s all I’ll ever need,” you had replied, the words echoing now in his mind, like an antidote to the venom of doubt. That’s all I’ll ever need, that’s all I’ll ever need, that’s all—

“I asked you a question, Azriel.” The High Lord’s sharp voice cut through the memory, yanking him back to the cold, oppressive reality of the Court of Nightmares. “What can you offer in exchange for my daughter?”

Azriel’s knees buckle beneath him before he even realizes it. He drops to the floor, bowing his head low. His shadows stir, swirling around him in a frenzy, urging him to stand. To stop him.

“My life.”

“Your life,” The High Lord muses. He lets out a dark, humorless chuckle. “You love my daughter enough to give your life for her?”

“Yes,” Azriel says, his voice firm and steady, even as his shadows coil tighter around his arms, trying to pull him back from this path. But he stays rooted to the floor. His life, his soul—it all belongs to you anyway. What was it worth, if not to protect you? To be yours?

The High Lord’s eyes narrow as he studies the swirling shadows, dark and restless, wrapping themselves around Azriel’s form. Shadowsingers are rare. Their power is precious. They can see and hear things others can’t. The only known living one kneels before him now. 

Despite his low born status, the Shadowsinger had also proved himself a formidable, Illyrian warrior. A Carynthian. It’s why he appointed Azriel as the Night Court’s spymaster.  

And now this powerful and strong male is offering his life.

To have a Shadowsinger as his spymaster is rare, a gift in itself. To have Azriel’s loyalty, his strength, his skills bound by magic for life. A weapon of mass destruction, at his beck and call. No room for betrayal, no worry over him leaving his court for another.

 All in exchange for your hand in marriage? 

Now, that sounds like a deal.

He lets out a thoughtful hum, voicing his consideration. He could give Azriel a title, raise him from his bastard status. At his will, darkness begins to rise from the floor. The power of the bargain hovers in the air between them, ready to etch itself into both their skins. 

 Azriel finally lifts his head, meeting the High Lord’s eyes with no fear. Only the light of determination. He is willing to give his life to your father if that’s what it takes to be by your side. 

The cloud of darkness begins to separate, its dark tendrils moving toward him, the binding magic poised to seal his fate, to chain him to this bargain for the rest of his life.

But before it can touch his skin, before the deal can be made, a bright light erupts in the room. A sharp hiss escapes the darkness as it recoils, retreating back into the shadows where it had come from. Azriel’s own shadows seem to shudder in relief.

Both Azriel and the High Lord’s heads snap toward the source of the light. You stand at the doors, your eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears, your hands glowing with pure, raging starlight.

“No!” you cry, the word trembling on your lips as you step forward, the glow around you growing even brighter. 

Your eyes lock with Azriel’s and something tightens in his chest, crawling up his rib cage. It’s sharp and breathtaking. His hand grabs at his chest and yours does the same. 

”He will not be your slave,” you say, turning to your father with the same determination flashing in your eyes. “There has to be another way.”

The High Lord’s features morph into a scowl. “Another way? My star, he is a bastard—”

“I love him!” 

That tightening in his chest finally snaps and Azriel’s breath catches. He feels that light in your eyes, perfectly reflecting the one in his. It sears into his soul, as fierce and unrelenting as the starlight glowing from your hands.

Your father doesn’t notice the shift in the air, the change in Azriel’s posture, in his chest. Or in yours.

“You think that means anything?” 

Azriel’s shadows whisper a warning into his ears, of an oncoming raging darkness. Different but similar to the High Lord’s. He barely hears his shadows, too focused on you, on the bond thrumming between you. His mind is consumed with you. 

Mate. Mate. Mate.

“You and mother—” you begin.

“Do you think your mother and I love each other?” The High Lord interrupts sharply, his voice cold and cutting. He breaks out into a laugh.

Azriel snaps out of his trance. Anger flares within him at the shock, the devastation that takes over your features. He watches as you shrink back slightly, his instincts roaring to protect you from any harm, whether verbal or otherwise. 

Because he’s your mate. Because he loves you.

 “You think I would marry your mother, a low born seamstress by choice? What your mother and I have is different. It’s complicated. A special bond.  One that gave me Rhysand and you and–”

A sound like thunder crashes through the room, reverberating off the stone walls as darkness swells in every corner. One moment, Azriel is on his knees. The next, he’s slamming into the cold marble floor, the force of Rhysand’s power pinning him down. Tendrils of Rhysand’s darkness coil around Azriel’s form, fighting with the shadows that instinctively rise to defend him.

“How long?” Rhysand's violet eyes blaze as they burn into Azriel.

“And I am beginning to think you both are nuisances to my existence rather than gifts...” The High Lord mutters followed by an exhausted sigh.

“How long have you been fucking my sister?” His words are a snarl as he slams Azriel harder into the floor, advancing toward him with clenched fists.

“Rhysand!” You let out a cry, rushing to the two males to separate them.

Your brother whips around, his anger igniting into something fiercer at the sight of you. “Stay out of this!” he snaps, his hand raising. He’s too angry, too heated. So much that he doesn't even notice the force of darkness he aims your way.

Rhysand’s magic hits you hard, knocking the breath from your lungs. A choked gasp escapes as you stumble backward, struggling to keep your footing. A burst of bright sapphire explodes from each of Azriel’s siphons, a deep and low growl rumbling from his chest. He breaks free from Rhysand’s magic, standing to his feet. His wings flare behind him, shadows swirling like a storm.

The look in his hazel eyes is nothing short of feral, dark and ancient, a fierce and possessive glint that makes Rhysand falter and surprise flash across the High Lord’s features.

You fall to the ground with a thud, palms scraping against the stone and pain flaring in your hands. Rhysand turns toward you, the anger that had been simmering in his violet gaze immediately dissolving into guilt and regret. “Y/n, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t touch her.” Azriel growls, standing in between you and your brother, his shadows forming in an additional protective barrier. Some shadows flutter toward you, helping you stand and bringing you to Azriel’s side. Your hand instinctively seeks Azriel’s, fingers curling into his and you squeeze it, letting him know you’re alright. 

“By the Cauldron…” the High Lord’s voice comes out in a low murmur, his gaze darting between you and Azriel. His eyes narrow as he finally notices the subtle shift in the air, in your scents. The scent of a bond. 

“You two are mates,” he says, tone laced with resignation. Because even he, a High Lord, is not above going against The Cauldron.

It feels like a punch to the gut for Rhysand. His best friend and his sister. Fate’s inevitable design had been right under his nose all along. “What?” Rhysand breathes in shock, chest still heaving from the exertion of his magic.

Azriel’s hand tightens around yours. His gaze softens as he turns to you, the fierce protectiveness from earlier easing into something gentler. And when your eyes meet again, it’s there—the unmistakable light of the mating bond. It shines bright and steady between you. Just like your love for each other does.

 A light that never goes out.

bonus scene

Once the shock of the bond had worn off, the High Lord excused himself, muttering about damage control. “Spring will be the hardest to deal with,” he had said.

Rhysand’s body tensed as his eyes found yours. But you’d only given him a small, reassuring smile. Though it is something you would like to talk about, his secret would remain safe with you.

Your father would soon announce the bond to the Court of Nightmares, already making plans for a grand mating ceremony. You’d much rather have something private, intimate. But a public celebration seemed like a small price to pay for the lifetime you’d get to spend beside the male you loved.

Rhysand turned his gaze back to Azriel, his expression still unreadable. “You never answered my question,” he said, voice calm but edged with something darker. “How long?”

Azriel hesitated before answering, unlike the way he had with the High Lord. This was his best friend standing in front of him. The one he grew up and trained along with, survived the brutality of the Blood Rite with. Rhysand was like a brother to him and he went behind his back for years.

 “A decade.”

“A decade?” Rhysand blinks in surprise. 

A whole decade of secrecy. Of Azriel sneaking around with his little sister. It all made sense now. Why Azriel became more reserved, more private. Why Azriel no longer indulged himself with the pleasures of the females at Rita’s or the Illyrian camps like he and Cassian did. Why you spent more time at the Moonstone palace, instead of the House of Wind, where you had grown up and been raised by a handful of Priestesses. It hadn’t been to learn about the politics of the courts but to be closer to Azriel.

And then, with no warning, Rhysand swings.

The hit lands squarely on Azriel’s jaw, so swift and unexpected that neither you nor Azriel’s shadows had seen it coming. Azriel takes the blow without protest, silently commanding his shadows to stand their ground and not fight back. 

“Rhys!” you snapped, your brows furrowing into a scowl. 

Rhysand huffs, shaking out his hand from the impact. “That’s for going behind my back,” he says. He pauses for a second and then, he lets out a low chuckle. Full of disbelief and relief.

“I’m still angry at both of you,” Rhysand admits, and Azriel lowers his head, bracing for more. “Not because it’s you—though I’ll admit, seeing you together is... strange. But because you kept it from me for so long, putting both of your lives at risk.”

Then Rhysand’s voice softens, his gaze following. “But I’m glad it’s you.”

Azriel lifts his head back up in surprise as Rhysand holds out his hand.

 “You’re a good male, Azriel. Better than most. And I know you’ll protect her. Love her in a way no one else can.”

Azriel stares at Rhysand’s outstretched hand before finally clasping it, the tension between them easing. Your chest warms at your brother’s sincerity.

The sound of footsteps, heavy and hurried, echo through the stone walls. They grow louder with each passing second and moments later, Cassian and Mor appear at the entrance of your father’s study. Cassian braces himself against the doorframe and Mor leans on him, their chests rising and falling rapidly.

It’s clear they’re winded from the endless stairs they must’ve taken to reach the floor of your father’s private study. It was located between the Court of Nightmares and Moonstone Palace, warded so that only those of his bloodline could winnow directly inside.

Their eyes dart between the three of you. 

“What did we miss?”

a/n: hope you enjoyed! here’s a little HC (idk what to call it?) of Rhys’s sis & Az if you’re curious 💙

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits13, @lorosette

fic tag: @noisyinfluencerstrawberry, @tothestarsandwhateverend, @tulipbite, @kylaisra, @stressed-reader

[hxxsxxng]

NEED YOU BADLY p.sh

「pairing 」 : boyfriend!sunghoon x fem!reader

「genre 」 : fluff, literal bare minimum smut

「word count」 : 1.1k

「synopsis」 : after dinner and a night out in the town, you and sunghoon drive up to your favorite spot

「warnings」 : established relationship, making out, pet names, clothed clit stimulation, clothed grinding, stuff done in a car

「authors note」 : i have been loving writing for sunghoon and all of my sunghoon stan followers<3 feedback is appreciated SUPPORT BY REBLOGGING

「taglist 」 : @jakeflvrz

The city lights blurred past us as Sunghoon navigated his sleek black BMW through the streets. I couldn't help but steal glances at him, admiring his sharp profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. His hooded eyes were focused on the road, a slight smile playing on his lips. The soft hum of the engine and the gentle vibration of the car created a comfortable environment.

I shifted in my seat, the fabric of my dress rustling softly. The night air coming through the cracked window carried the scent of rain. contrasting to Sunghoon's cologne that filled the car with notes of sandalwood and citrus.

"Did you enjoy dinner, angel?" Sunghoon asked, his deep voice breaking through my reverie and sending a shiver down my spine. His eyes briefly flicked to me before returning to the road, but even that fleeting glance was enough to make my heart race.

I nodded, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. "It was perfect, Sunghoon. Thank you." My voice came out softer than I intended, betraying the depth of my emotions.

He reached over and took my hand, intertwining our fingers. The warmth of his palm against mine sent sparks through my body. "Anything for you, doll," he said, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of my hand.

As we drove further from the heart of the city, the buildings grew sparse and the roads darker. The transition was gradual but noticeable – fewer cars on the road, dimmer streetlights, and an increasing number of trees lining the streets. I knew where we were headed – our special spot on the outskirts of town, secluded and private. My heart raced with anticipation, a mix of excitement and nervousness swirling in my stomach.

Sunghoon pulled off the main road onto a hidden dirt path, the car's headlights cutting through the darkness. The subtle bump as we transitioned from asphalt to dirt sent a jolt through me, heightening my senses. The trees parted, revealing a clearing that overlooked the twinkling city below.

He parked the car, the engine's purr fading to silence. The sudden quiet was deafening, broken only by the sound of our breathing and the distant hum of the city. Sunghoon turned to me, his eyes dark and intense, reflecting the starlight that filtered through the windshield.

"You look beautiful tonight, babygirl," he murmured, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered on my cheek, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

“Thank you” I said, trying to hide my face.

His eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and desire flashing across his face. He unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned across the center console, capturing my lips in a kiss. The passion behind it took my breath away, making my head spin and my heart pound.

I melted into him, my hands finding their way to his soft black hair. My fingers tangled in the silky strands, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, our lips moving in perfect synchrony, a dance we had perfected over the years but one that never lost its magic. Every brush of his lips against mine sent shivers down my spine.

Sunghoon pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine. Our breaths mingled in the small space between us. He brought his fingers between my legs, over my clothed center. "Are you sure, angel?" he asked, his voice husky with desire but tinged with concern.

I nodded, unable to form words. The intensity of my desire for him overwhelmed me, leaving me breathless and needy. My fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him back to me, our lips meeting again.

He circled his fingers slowly across my covered bud, cause me to quietly whimper in pleasure.

With a swift movement, Sunghoon reclined his seat and pulled me onto his lap. I straddled him, my dress riding up slightly as I settled against him. My hands rested on his broad shoulders, feeling the strong muscles beneath his shirt. The new position brought us impossibly closer, and I could feel the rapid beating of his heart against my chest, as well as his length pressing against my core.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" Sunghoon murmured, his hands tracing patterns on my waist. His touch, even through the fabric of my dress, sent sparks of electricity coursing through me. "Every day, I fall more in love with you."

"I love you too, Sunghoon. So much."

Our lips met again, this time slower, deeper. Each kiss was a promise, a declaration of love that words couldn't fully express. Sunghoon's hands roamed my back, pulling me closer, as if he couldn't bear even the slightest distance between us. I ran my fingers through his hair, down his neck, across his shoulders, memorizing every plane and curve of his body.

As our kisses grew more heated, I felt myself getting lost in the moment, in the sensations, in Sunghoon. The windows of the car fogged up around us. I subconsciously started to grind my hips against Sunghoon, creating friction for my needy core.

Time seemed to stand still in our bubble. I couldn't tell if minutes or hours had passed. The only measure of time was the steady beat of Sunghoon's heart against mine and the rhythm of our synchronized breaths.

Eventually, we pulled apart, both of us breathing heavily. I rested my forehead against his shoulder, trying to catch my breath. Sunghoon's hands rubbed soothing circles on my back, his touch now comforting rather than igniting.

When I finally looked up, I couldn't help but giggle. Sunghoon's usually perfectly styled hair was now a mess, sticking up in all directions thanks to my wandering hands. His lips were swollen from our kisses, and there was a dazed look in his eyes that I'm sure mirrored my own.

"What's so funny, doll?" he asked, a playful glint replacing the haze in his eyes.

I ran my fingers through his hair, attempting to smooth it down. "Nothing. You just look cute like this." I bit my lip, trying to suppress another giggle.

He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a smirk. "Cute? I was going for handsome."

I laughed, the sound filling the car and lightening the intense atmosphere. "That too," I conceded, planting a quick kiss on his nose.

Sunghoon's expression softened, his hands coming up to cup my face. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he traced the contours of my cheeks with his thumbs. "I love you so much," he said, his voice filled with emotion. The intensity in his eyes took my breath away. "I hope you know that."

[perfectlyoongi]

HUSBAND!HOSEOK who makes you a bracelet as a marriage proposal. it was common for Hoseok to give you gifts made by him, he just to create and liked you, it was only logical that you would receive all of his work; so, you weren't suspicious when he gave you a small white bracelet, but it was when you noticed the small golden letters that your heart quickened a little, your wide smile appeasing a rather nervous Hoseok. “i promise i will give you a ring. i just found it more special this way. so… what do you say?”

HUSBAND!HOSEOK who takes you to a fast food restaurant in the middle of your wedding just because you said you wanted a burger. you mentioned it by chance, without really caring about your words, but that was enough for Hoseok to tell you that it was only a few minutes and that it was quick, he swore to you that no one would notice you were missing; Hoseok just wanted to make sure that day was going to be perfect for you, and if that involved leaving your party to buy a simple burger, he didn't mind leaving for a few minutes — he just wanted to see you happy. “from this moment onward, whatever you need or want, i will make sure you have it. you will be the happiest person in the world. that is my mission.”

HUSBAND!HOSEOK who makes a collage album of your memories to give you on your first anniversary. it wasn't just the photographs from Hoseok's gallery that portrayed your times as friends and partners, there were also movie tickets, cards of flower bouquets, small dried leaves and stuffed animal tags, various tiny items that sculpted your relationship into the epitome of love; so, Hoseok worked whole nights on a small album, choosing each photograph and item in detail, ensuring that that gift made you as happy and emotional as it made him. “i also have dinner planned at the first restaurant we went to and a boat trip afterwards. but for now, i think our memories are enough.”

HUSBAND!HOSEOK who makes tiktok couples trends with you. he didn't publish anything, sometimes he didn't even record, but Hoseok liked to see couples trends on the app, dance challenges or something else that excited him; they were moments of fun, joy infecting your room between so many attempts and failures, a few minutes of pure abstention, where nothing existed other than you, Hoseok and the music that sounded muffled from his cell phone. “there’s a new trend we have to do! it’s a dance, but i know we’ll get it right the first time!”

HUSBAND!HOSEOK who will exchange shoes with you if yours are hurting you. whether it was winter or summer, whether it was sunny or snowy, it didn't matter, Hoseok was always ready to help you and ease the pain you were feeling; he insisted, almost demanding, that you wear his sneakers or shoes, yours finding shelter in Hoseok's gentle hands. “i’d rather walk barefoot and get cold than see you suffer. give me your shoes and shut up.”

HUSBAND!HOSEOK who dances in the rain with you, no matter how much time passes. whether it was your first week of marriage or ten years later, it was indifferent — Hoseok only wanted you with him while mother nature toasted you with the heavenly water of eternity; there was no need for music or invitation, it already seemed to be a tradition of yours: whenever the rain started to fall when you were together on the street, it was almost guaranteed that he would hold you and make you spin among the most delicate drops of nature, creating eternal smiles on your lips. “it makes me feel like i'm falling in love with you for the first time. my love will never grow old.”

HUSBAND!HOSEOK who will never let the flame of your relationship go out. he would do anything not to lose you. infinite time could pass between you, but Hoseok would always make sure that something fiery and genuine shined in you, because he couldn't afford to lose you, to lose the only person he truly loved and dreamed of his entire life. “i’m not going to lose you. i didn't spend so much time loving you to let you go so easily. i will love you forever and i will make you love me back.”

[yallthemwitches]

Slipping Away

Snape didn't think his life could get much worse---until Lily was falling in love with James Potter right before his eyes. A compilation of 3 particular moments between 6th and 7th year..

(If anyone is curious, I imagine Sirius and Lily are dancing to Fool In the Rain by Led Zeppelin and James and Lily dance to Mambo Sun by T Rex)

Sixth Year

I.The Three Broomsticks was filled to the brim with people. All the Hogwarts houses were present as well as the locals. Even some goblins were seen carrying their own goblets of firewhisky while weaving around at knee height. Severus sat glowering at one of the tables that had been pushed back against the wall to make space for a dance floor. Around him, music burst with a frenetic energy and bodies buzzed to move with it.

He hadn’t wanted to come–the potions NEWTS were coming up and Avery had also given him an extra assignment to create a new curse that would be good enough to get him noticed by the death eaters who had been scouting through the Slytherin house. But he knew she would be here tonight. So he came. 

He wasn’t wrong. Just across the room she stood with a group of her girlfriends in a tight circle. Out of her uniform, she bobbed her hip to the beat making her black corduroy skirt bounce slightly. Marlene McKinnon said something with a smirk and Lily leaned her head back in a laugh. He watched as she compiled her hair on the top of her head in a loose ball and let it cascade down her back in waves. 

He had seen her do this a million times. The way her laugh burst forth. The habit she had to fool with her hair when she was either nervous or feeling a burst of emotion. She used to do those things when he used to talk to her. How could she have learned to do them for anyone else?

Mary McDonald came back from the bar levitating 3 drinks and Lily took hers from midair. Sipping idly, she swerved her body to take stock of the room. She turned about halfway before pausing for a beat and a smile curled up from behind her goblet. Snape jerked his head in the direction of her eyes to see Potter and his friends just across the other way sitting semi-circle at a table that already had a collection of empty goblets. Potter leaned on the back legs of his seat in mid-discussion with his little cult. Sirius let out a barking laugh at whatever was said and picked up one of the goblets to down it with a swift movement. At Lily’s gaze, James looked up, dropped back down into a proper sitting position, and leaned with crossed arms on the table. A small smile pulled at his mouth. 

“I’m imagining it,” Severus conceded. The moment couldn’t have been more than two seconds—there’s no way that with this much bustle and noise…Potter and Lily—his Lily—could be having some sort of moment. 

Lily rolled her eyes and swiveled her body back facing her friend group. The girls talked excitedly to each other and a new song started up. Lily made a little jump and took a long sip from her goblet before setting it on a nearby table. Snape was too far away to hear her words, but he could tell by the change in body language that she was excited by whatever new song was magically blasting into the room. She swayed her hips in time with the beat and with her hands hovering up by her shoulders, snapped along to each drum hit. Marlene snorted and shook her head at her friend. Watching her mouth he could just barely make out Marlene saying, “Merlin Lily, you and that muggle music.” 

Unphased by her friend’s teasing, Lily closed her eyes and mouthed the lyrics to herself. Giving a cheeky wave, she spinned on her heel and walked towards the middle of the dancefloor, still keeping time with her steps. He expected her to stop where others had begun dancing in the middle of the space, but she expertly weaved her way through the crowd and towards the boys sitting on the other side. 

Severus felt his throat dry up. He knew that they had seemed a little friendly these days. It hadn’t been lost on him that she and her friends had started sitting next to Potter and his crew during meals. And after lessons, James would sometimes bound up to keep in step with her, asking about the class. Merely a year before she would have been annoyed by having to talk to the likes of him, but now she let him— even emitting a laugh or two at something he said.  All the years they had spent lamenting about his giant ego and bullying behavior was being thrown out the window the second they stopped spending time together. Mulciber and Malfoy always said muggleborns were supposed to be slimy and disloyal, but she had always been different than that. She was better than the rest of her kind.

Lily stood with her back to him in front of the marauder’s table and continued to sway playfully to the music. Severus craned his neck as far as he could to be able to watch her face. At her approach, Potter sat up straighter and his hand jumped into his hair. Disgusting prick. 

He couldn’t make out her words but he saw the slightest bit of color bubble up on Potter’s face. If Severus hadn’t thought Potter was capable of any other emotion besides being an arrogant prick, he would have thought that he was embarrassed. Potter’s eyes widened a bit, and he spoke something back to her, once again pushing his hand through his hair. Lily slowed her swaying, clearly crestfallen, but quickly pushed past it to perk back up. Sirius turned to James and with a mischievous grin and said something before rising from the table. Lily’s face lit up and she grabbed Sirius’ hand as he followed her out into the middle of the dance floor. 

Snape felt his dinner bubbling up in his stomach. She’s going to dance with Black? He’s almost worse than Potter…

Snape’s only consolation was the look on James’ face. Wide-eyed and pale, James stared blankly at where Sirius and Lily had started dancing on the near-side of the hall. Pettigrew leaned over and started poking James in the face with a smirk and Lupin rolled his eyes and said something pointedly to him, who looked too stunned to hear it. 

Snape whipped his head back to Lily and Sirius. Lily had her arms loosely around his neck and Sirius had his arms wrapped around her. Despite being mid-dance, he could tell that Sirius was holding distance between them, very clearly wanting to establish them from the other dancers who pressed themselves to each other as tight as possible. 

“Potter has his little gang so whipped. He must have called dibs on Lily like she’s some kind of Quidditch prize.” Despite being revolted by the thought, Snape had to admit he was fine with watching Black be more reserved. 

Sirius and Lily swayed together. Despite being a muggle tune, Sirius was able to word all the lyrics along with her. They both continued to dance; belting out the song while the music drowned them out. After a moment, Sirius leaned into Lily’s ear and whispered something with a smirk. He was facing the table where he had left his friends, and his eyes twinkled in the direction of James who had gotten some of his color back but was now carrying an air of frustration and annoyance. Lily leaned her head back and laughed at whatever Sirius’ had said and turned her head to also stare in the direction of the table. Knowing they had his attention, they both simultaneously gave a sly wave and Potter pouted further. 

Lupin leaned over again, and said something curtly to James. James nodded a few times before pushing himself up off the table. He strode over onto the dancefloor and stood next to the two dancers who kept in-tune without hesitation. After some words were exchanged, Lily dropped her arms around Sirius’ neck and Sirius, feigning the air of a dignitary, offered one of Lily’s hands to James with a dramatic bow. Lily rolled her eyes but let James take over in Sirius’ stead.

It was too much for Severus. He already had to watch her dance with one arsehole, and now she was going to dance with the leader of arseholes. He jerked himself up from the table and trudged his way onto the dancefloor. 

By the time he made it to the couple, Lily had snaked her arms around James’ neck and he held her around the waist. They stood much closer than Sirius’ had allowed earlier, with their bodies pressed against one another, and James’ hands making tight contact with her lower back. Both of them had a smattering of blush on their faces and stared at each other with easy eyes. As Snape approached, he watched James lean in close to Lily’s ear and whisper something. In response she scrunched up her face in a playful grin. 

“Can I talk to you?” Severus felt extremely out of place surrounded by flushed and bobbing bodies. He made a quick erratic dodge to not run into another pair of dancers who were whooshing past. 

Neither Lily or James moved out of their embrace. If anything, he could see Lily’s hands tighten around Potter’s neck as she craned around to look at him. 

“No,” she said curtly. She turned back to face James who, despite clearly trying to be on his best behavior, side-eyed him and made a sardonic smirk. 

“Please,” he tried again. 

“Can’t you see I’m trying to enjoy my evening,” she retorted, and started to slowly spin herself and James away from where he was standing. Snape took another step forward and planted a hand squarely on her shoulder. 

“Lily—” But Lily whipped around, removing her hands from James, while James’ eyes narrowed dangerously as he kept one of his hands protectively around her waist. “How dare he stand there like she’s his.” Snape’s mind flooded with anger. 

“She said no, Snape,” James growled out. Around them, people started to stop their reveling to watch the scene unfold. Lily’s friends pushed forward to be closer and from the corner of his eye, he could see that Sirius and Lupin were both standing now with wands in hand. 

“Fine…Fine. Mudblood.” He spat it out at her and turned on his heel. James pulled out his wand, but Lily grabbed at his shoulder, clearly begging him not to react. Snape didn’t look back and stormed out of the front doors and into the rain.

Seventh Year

II. School had started merely weeks ago, but the whole student body was buzzing. When he first heard someone talking about it in the Slytherin common room, he almost vomited on the spot. 

“D’you here? Potter and Evans are together.”

“A head student romance? Bet that keeps their patrols interesting.”

“I heard they saw each other over the summer— Mary told me she even slept over at his—”

“We all knew that one day they were bound to snog, Potter has been after her for years and Evans couldn’t mask her sexual tension with anger forever…”

He didn’t want to believe it. He refused to believe it. But later at lunch there it was. 

They were together. Lily sat leaning into the crook of his arm that encircled her. His other hand rested plainly on her upper thigh and gently squeezed her exposed skin randomly as they both listened to Marlene who eyed them warily but continued with her conversation. 

For head boy and head girl, it was a disgusting display of affection. The Lily he knew would have never been ok with it—he already thought Dumbledore was going mad to let Potter get the head boy position, but now to have him condone this type of behavior?

James lowered his head to whisper something closely in her ear. From even such a distance he could see James’ nose nuzzle against her cheek and Lily let out a giggle. She reached up and playfully grabbed his chin and gave it a little teasing shake before he closed the distance between their lips. 

Sirius and Marlene broke into a mocking applause at their kiss and James swatted at his mate while Lily blushed deeply. Lily leaned into James’ ear and murmured something, and red sprung up around the bottom edges of his glasses. Lily stood and James followed suit, eliciting suggestive oooohhhs and kissing noises from their friends. James grabbed his and her bag and slung them over his shoulder before wrapping his free arm once again around her waist as they started for the door. 

As they walked, Lily spoke to James with an ease not unlike she used to reserve for him. How many times had he wanted to wrap his arms around her like Potter so freely did now? He felt dizzy as he watched James kiss her temple as they departed, with Lily’s face alight with happiness.

III. 

He had gone down to the potions classroom they used to use in the good days. It was the middle of the night, but he had no better option. He had been working on a new potion technique he couldn’t work on in class. He yearned to talk to Lily about it like they used to. Whenever he was stuck on a problem, she always had something wise to say, as though she was like the half he was missing to be a complete person. 

He hadn’t come down here at night often since him and Lily had stopped talking. He knew how special it was for her to have a safe space, and it was his gift to her to let her have it whenever she wanted to come to experiment at night. Sometimes he would sneak out and wait in the hall, just to listen to the cutting of her knife as she sang along to the music she conjured into the room while she worked. 

He had just finished packing his things when he heard footsteps and voices coming from down the hall. 

“Are you sure the Beatles aren’t wizards? Like has anyone point blank asked them?” said a familiar male voice. 

“I think if they were, we would know by now, don’t you think,” he could recognize her voice from a mile away. His heart sank.

Lily and James turned the corner and started walking towards the open classroom door. Severus clutched his potion kit to himself and cursed silently. Sure, he could hide somewhere in the room, but all it would take is one quick sweep and he would be found. 

He stood frozen within the door as he heard their footsteps approach. He closed his eyes and braced himself, but miraculously they had stopped. He heard the shifting of clothing and a soft groan from James. 

“I thought we were supposed to be watching that other corridor,” James whispered. His voice sounded deep and thick. 

“No, I think we can skip it,” Lily responded back. He had never heard her voice sound like that. It was low and melted into the air. He had never thought you could hear desire in someone’s voice, but there was no mistaking it. 

The two went silent save for the sound of bodies moving slowly and soft moans being teased out of the other. He heard a dampened thump and slithered himself up against the door to carefully peer out into the hall. 

James had Lily pinned against the wall. Their lips moving against each other like they were starving for each other. Lily ran her hands through his hair and curled her fingers into tight fists, eliciting a moan from James. He stood pressed between her legs so their bodies fit together as close as possible. One hand was clasped around her upper thigh and was toying with the idea of pulling her leg entirely up and around his waist for better leverage. The action of their bodies together pushed her skirt to dangerous heights, but she seemed too busy to notice. 

Severus felt like he could die at that very moment. He wanted to stop watching–needed to stop watching, but found that he could not. Lily was flushed, mouth hanging open in a perpetual moan as James lowered his head to her collar bone and attached his mouth like a suction. 

“I love you.” It was barely a whisper, but Severus heard it. By the way it came so easily from her lips he knew it wasn’t the first time she had said it either. 

It felt like his soul left his body. His eyes became unfocused and he felt the urge to sit on the floor. She loves him? Loves HIM? No curse could feel as bad as he felt now. Nothing that had ever come before it could compare.How could she be so blind? How could she fall so low?

James removed himself from her collar which was red from his mouth. He looked at her, beaming. “I love you too, Lils. Merlin. I love you so much.”

And their lips met again. James picked her up and she yelped playfully but obliged to wrapping her legs around his waist and using the wall for support. Severus couldn’t watch any longer. He slid to a crouching position and buried his head in his hands. 

After what seemed like ages, he heard some shifting and Lily’s feet touch back on the floor. 

“I think it’s safe to say our patrols are done.” He heard her say with a giggle. 

“So….my dorm?” Severus wanted to snort at how cocky it sounded, but Lily just laughed. 

“What? You’re going to tell all your mates to fuck off so we can cuddle?” She teased.

“Cuddling? Is that what we are calling it now?” He could just picture Potter’s stupid mouth turning up in a mischievous grin. 

He heard Lily laugh and give him a playful swat. 

“Sure, yeah—I’d like that.” She conceded. And their footsteps disappeared around the corner. 

Severus remained crouched despite their departure, unable to move. Is this what hell is like? Is this what I deserve? He thought about all the times Lily smiled at him; all the times they would laugh as they experimented with potions or talked carelessly by the river about everything and  nothing at all. 

She was gone.Taken. Stolen. Each lovely moment with her slipped away from his mind like being crumbled into dust. All that was left was anger. A deep, encompassing hatred. 

He would get her back. Even if that meant killing the person she loved. Even if that meant becoming her enemy to do so.

[rafecamerons-national-anthem]

𝒞𝒜𝐿𝑀 𝒪𝒩 𝒯𝐻𝐸 𝒮𝒰𝑅𝐹𝒜𝒞𝐸-𝑅𝒜𝐹𝐸 𝒞𝒜𝑀𝐸𝑅𝒪𝒩

𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕞𝕦𝕥

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 In a stormy reunion on the beach, Rafe and Y/N confront their complicated history and intense emotions, igniting a passionate and raw connection under the rain-soaked skies. Their turbulent relationship, marked by both love and conflict, resurfaces as they let down their defenses, surrendering to the pull between them.

✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮

In the small, picturesque coastal town of Outer Banks, where the waves whispered secrets against the shore and the sunsets painted the sky in fiery hues, Rafe Cameron's restless spirit was a stark contrast to the serene beauty that surrounded him. With a past filled with more turbulence than the ocean's deepest trenches, Rafe's brooding eyes often mirrored the tumultuous emotions roiling within him. The scent of the salty breeze and the constant rhythm of the waves had once been his solace, but lately, they only served to amplify the emptiness he felt.

Y/N, the girl who had grown up under the same starlit skies as Rafe, was as much a part of the town's fabric as he was. Her fiery spirit and sharp tongue had earned her a reputation, and her heart had been as untouchable as the lighthouse that stood sentinel over the bay. She and Rafe had a history that was as twisted as the mangrove roots that snaked along the shoreline, a dance of love and anger that had been playing out for years. Everyone knew to stay clear when the two of them were around, for their volatile relationship was a ticking time bomb that could go off at any moment.

On this particular evening, the tension between them was as palpable as the humidity in the air. They had crossed paths on the beach, their eyes meeting with the force of a crashing wave. Y/N had just ended a fight with her latest fling, the echoes of their harsh words still lingering in the salty air. Rafe, having witnessed the scene from a distance, felt his protective instincts flare up, an emotion that was as unwelcome as the sting of a jellyfish on a summer day. He approached her with the same caution one would a wild animal, his every step leaving an imprint in the sand that seemed to speak of the unspoken words that lay between them.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate with the thunderheads gathering on the horizon.

Y/N looked up at him, her emerald eyes flashing with a mix of anger and vulnerability. "Don't pretend you care," she spat, wiping at the tears that had started to form.

Rafe's jaw tightened, his own frustration bubbling to the surface. "I don't have to pretend," he said through gritted teeth. "You know I've always been there for you."

Y/N rolled her eyes, her voice thick with sarcasm. "Oh, except for that one time you left without a word and didn't come back for a whole summer. That really showed how much you care."

Rafe flinched as if she had slapped him. "You know I had my reasons," he said, his voice low and taut with the pain of that long ago betrayal.

"Reasons," she scoffed, turning away from him. "You always have reasons, Rafe. It's just never good enough, is it?"

He reached out to her, his hand hovering just shy of her shoulder. "Let me explain-"

"What's there to explain?" she interrupted, spinning around to face him. "You left, and I had to deal with everything alone. You don't get to waltz back in here and expect me to just forgive and forget."

The air crackled with the electricity of their unresolved emotions. Rafe's hand fell to his side, and he took a step back. "You're right," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the crash of the waves. "I can't change the past, but I'm here now."

Y/N's gaze searched his, looking for a shred of the boy she had once loved so fiercely. "What good does that do us?" she whispered, the fight draining from her voice. "We're toxic, Rafe. Like oil and water."

He took another step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "Maybe we are," he conceded, "but maybe that's what makes us burn so bright."

The words hung between them, heavy with meaning and the weight of their shared history. For a moment, the only sound was the mournful call of seagulls overhead and the gentle caress of the waves against the shore. Y/N felt her resolve wavering like the shifting sands beneath her feet. The pull between them was as irresistible as the tide, and she knew she was dangerously close to being swept away once again.

"Why do you do this to me?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Rafe's eyes searched hers, the storm in his own heart reflected in their depths. "Because you're the only thing that's ever felt right," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "You're the storm I can't outrun, Y/N."

Her eyes widened, and she took a step back, the coldness of her retreat seeping into his very bones. "I don't want to be anyone's storm," she said, her voice cracking.

Rafe's hand clenched into a fist at his side. "Then what do you want from me?" he demanded, the desperation in his voice matching the turmoil in his heart.

Y/N looked at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I don't know," she said honestly. "But I can't keep doing this with you. It hurts too much."

The sky above them darkened, the first droplets of rain beginning to fall like the tears neither of them could hold back any longer. Rafe took another step toward her, closing the distance she had put between them. He cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing the path of a solitary tear that had escaped. "Then let's stop fighting it," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin.

Y/N's eyes searched his, a tumult of emotions swirling within her. The rain picked up speed, soaking their clothes and plastering their hair to their faces, but they remained rooted to the spot, the storm around them a physical manifestation of the one raging within. "What are you saying?" she whispered, her voice a tremulous mix of hope and fear.

Rafe leaned in closer, his breath a warm caress against her cold skin. "I'm saying that maybe we don't have to fight it anymore," he said, his voice dropping to a murmur. "We can be each other's shelter in the storm."

Y/N's eyes searched his, a silent battle raging in the depths of her soul. The rain grew heavier, the droplets stinging her skin like the memories of their past. "What if we just make everything worse?" she breathed, the question hanging in the air like a plea.

Rafe's hand slid to the back of her neck, his grip firm yet gentle. "We can't keep going like this," he said, his voice a rumble of thunder that seemed to shake the very ground beneath them. "Let's just…let go."

Y/N's breath hitched as she felt the warmth of his hand against her skin. The rain was now a downpour, drenching them both, but she didn't care. The chill of the water was nothing compared to the icy grip fear had on her heart. "I'm scared," she admitted, her voice a whisper on the wind.

Rafe's grip tightened, and he leaned in even closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "So am I," he confessed, "but I'm more scared of living without you in my life."

With those words, the dam broke. Y/N's arms snaked around his neck, pulling him closer as if to shield herself from the tempest of emotions that swirled around them. Rain soaked their clothes, plastering them to their bodies as their kiss grew more urgent, more desperate with each passing second. The thunder echoed the beating of their hearts, the lightning illuminating the passion in their eyes as they sought refuge in each other's arms.

Their kiss grew deeper, more frantic, as the storm raged on. They stumbled backward, the force of their embrace carrying them down to the sand. The coldness of the earth seeped into their skin, but it was nothing compared to the fire that burned between them. The world around them faded away until all that remained was the sound of the rain and the feel of each other's bodies pressed tightly together.

Rafe's hand slid under her shirt, tracing the outline of her waist, and she gasped against his mouth. The sensation sent a bolt of lightning straight to her core, igniting a passion she had thought long doused. His touch was both familiar and foreign, a reminder of what they had lost and what they could still have. Y/N's own hands roamed, exploring the contours of his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palms.

The rain fell in a torrential symphony around them, each drop a silent testament to the tears they had never shed. They were lost in a maelstrom of emotion, their bodies moving in a rhythm as old as the tides. The sand clung to their skin, a natural embrace as intimate as the one they shared. Their kisses grew more frantic, their breaths mingling with the salty air.

They didn't speak as their hands grew more daring, peeling away layers of clothing to reveal the scars and secrets that lay beneath. The wet sand was cold against their bare skin, but the heat between them was a stark contrast. Rafe's touch was a promise, a declaration that he was there, that he wasn't leaving again. Y/N shivered, not from the chill but from the intensity of his gaze, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

Their kisses grew deeper, more desperate, as if they were trying to drown in each other's love. The waves crashed against the shore, a crescendo of white noise that seemed to be urging them on. Rafe's hand slid up her thigh, the warmth of his skin setting her ablaze. She arched into his touch, her breath catching in her throat as he found the sensitive spot that had haunted her dreams for so long. The thunder roared, and she could feel the vibration of it in her very bones.

"Rafe," she whispered against his mouth, her voice a plea.

He responded by deepening the kiss, his hand moving higher, the rain a blur through her eyelashes. They were lost to the world, to the storm, to each other. The wind howled around them, whipping their hair into a frenzy, but all she could feel was the heat of his body, the strength of his arms holding her close.

Finally, when they broke apart to breathe, Rafe searched her eyes, the rain running in rivulets down his face. "Tell me you want this, Y/N," he said, his voice thick with desire. "Tell me it's not just the storm making us crazy."

Her eyes searched his, the intensity of his gaze piercing through the veil of rain. She knew this was a dangerous path they were about to tread, one that could either heal them or shatter them beyond repair. But in that moment, with the storm as their witness, she found the courage to speak the words that had been trapped inside her for so long.

"I want this," she murmured, her voice trembling with need. "I want you."

The words were a spark that ignited the flame, and Rafe's control snapped like a brittle twig. He kissed her again, harder this time, his hands moving with a possessive urgency. The rain pounded against their bodies as they rolled in the sand, a natural cocoon of passion that shielded them from the world's prying eyes. Their clothes were nothing but tattered remnants of the barriers that had once stood between them, and now there was nothing left but skin and desire.

The sensation of the cool, damp sand against her back was a stark contrast to the heat of Rafe's body as he hovered over her. His eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of doubt or hesitation. But all he saw was the same fierce longing that reflected in his own gaze. The storm had stripped away any pretense, leaving only raw, naked emotion.

With a growl of need, he claimed her mouth once more, his hands moving with purpose over her body. The rain had turned their skin slick, making every touch more electric. Y/N arched up to meet him, her own hands fisting in his hair, pulling him closer. The rainwater mingled with their sweat, creating a salty, intoxicating scent that seemed to amplify their desire.

"Please," she gasped against his lips, the word a desperate plea that was snatched away by the wind. "Fuck me, Rafe."

With a groan of pure need, Rafe positioned himself between her thighs, his hands braced on either side of her head. The sand was rough against her back, but she didn't care. All that mattered was the heat of him pressing against her, the promise of release from the pain that had held her captive for so long.

He entered her with a slow, deliberate movement that made her cry out into the storm. It was as if he was reclaiming her, marking her as his in a way that no one could ever doubt. The sensation was overwhelming, the connection between them as fierce as the lightning that forked across the sky. Y/N's nails dug into his back, her hips rising to meet his thrusts, the sand shifting beneath them with each movement.

Their bodies moved in a dance as old as time itself, the rhythm set by the pounding of the waves and the crescendo of the storm. Rafe's eyes never left hers, the intensity of their gaze speaking of love and anger, of passion and pain. Each stroke was a declaration of war against the past, a promise that no matter how much they had hurt each other, they were together now, in this moment, and that was all that mattered.

"Y/N," he groaned, his voice a raw whisper that was lost in the howl of the wind. "You feel so good."

Her legs wrapped around his waist, urging him deeper, the rain washing away their tears and the last of their inhibitions. The waves crashed against the shore, a rhythmic serenade to their tumultuous reunion. The saltwater stung the open cuts on their skin, a physical reminder of the emotional turmoil they had weathered. Yet, in the midst of the tempest, there was a strange, desperate comfort in the pain.

Rafe's kisses grew more feverish, his teeth grazing her lower lip as he slammed into her, the force of his passion leaving her breathless. The sand was cold and abrasive, but it was nothing compared to the fire that consumed her as he filled her completely. Y/N's moans were swallowed by the thunder, her cries of pleasure echoing through the night as the storm raged on.

Their lovemaking was as violent as the weather that surrounded them, a tempestuous clash of bodies that mirrored the tumultuous storm of emotions in their hearts. Each touch, each caress, was a silent apology for the hurt they had caused, each kiss a promise to never let go again. The rain soaked their skin, mixing with their sweat and tears, creating a salty symphony of pain and pleasure that played out beneath the darkened sky.

Rafe's movements grew more frantic, his need to be closer, to consume her completely, overwhelming him. He felt the storm within Y/N, the same storm that had always called to him, and he knew that this moment was about more than just physical release, it was about finding home again.

Y/N's nails raked down his back as the intensity of their love-making grew. Her legs tightened around his waist, her body responding to every one of his feverish touches. The storm around them was a reflection of the one that raged between their hearts, and in that moment, it felt as if they were the only two souls in the universe.

They climbed together, the waves of pleasure crashing over them like the waves upon the shore. Their movements grew erratic, driven by a primal instinct that overrode all thought. The rain pounded down, mixing with their cries of ecstasy as they reached the peak together. Rafe's eyes bore into hers, the blue of his irises darkening to match the tempestuous sky above.

Her orgasm shuddered through her, a crescendo that seemed to echo in the very air around them. She felt as if she were being torn apart by the intensity of it, only to be reborn in the arms of the man she had never truly let go of. Rafe's own release followed, his body tensing as he spilled himself into her, the warmth of it a stark contrast to the coldness of the rain.

For a moment, they lay there, panting and trembling in the aftermath of their shared climax. The rain continued to fall, a gentle patter against their entwined bodies that seemed to soothe the raw edges of their souls. Y/N could feel the rapid thud of Rafe's heart against her chest, a steady beat that promised that, for now at least, he wasn't going anywhere.

"Why does it always have to be like this?" she murmured, her voice barely audible over the fading storm.

Rafe's arms tightened around her, his breathing still ragged. "Because this is who we are," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. "We're like the sea, Y/N. Calm on the surface, but underneath…"

Y/N buried her face in his chest, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. "But can't we just be calm?" she asked, her voice muffled against his skin.

Rafe kissed the top of her head, the saltwater mixing with the taste of her. "Maybe one day," he murmured. "But for now, we're the storm."

They lay there for what felt like an eternity, the rain gradually slowing to a gentle drizzle. The thunder retreated to a distant rumble, the lightning fading into the horizon. The beach grew quiet once more, the only sound the soft hush of the waves kissing the shore. Their breaths evened out, their hearts slowly returning to their natural rhythms.

[iwaoiness]

When Oikawa looks into Iwaizumi's eyes, he sees his whole life reflected in green glass. Thirty years together, thirty springs filled with allergies and butterflies; thirty summers of beaches and sweet watermelons; thirty autumns spent around kotatsus and crunchy leaves; thirty winters wrapped in woolen scarves and frozen hands.

It's so, so many years. And Oikawa wants more. Much, much more. He wants to give Iwaizumi everything he has, offering his heart with the certainty that he won't break it. He wants to entrust him with his soul, confident that he won't wither it. He wants to share all his emotions, knowing he won't despised them.

With Hajime, Tooru comes to life. Without Hajime, Tooru feels lost.

All those years apart were truly dizzying, sometimes separated by the equator when it was just Irvine and San Juan, and other times by an entire ocean when it was just Japan and Argentina. It hurts to remember how hard it was, how strongly nostalgia struck, and the painful sting in their hands when they could see each other through a screen but couldn't touch.

However, it say that when you know, you know, and Tooru and Hajime know. They know they are more than just statistics of failed long-distance relationships. They know they are more than the rest of humanity. They know no one else shares the bond they have. They know no one else puts in the effort they do.

Tooru smiles from his soul as Iwa-chan runs into the curtain of rain falling before them. It smells of damp earth, of summer humidity, of everything right in the world. There is the sound of the rain, its tap, tap. He watches Hajime stretch his arms, spin around, and lift his eyes to the sky. His laughter reaches Tooru like an arrow, striking a heart already filled with arrows of years and years.

"Come here, Tooru, this is amazing!" Hajime turns to him, all genuine smiles and eyes sparkling like a child's. He's drenched, with strands of hair falling over his forehead like seaweed, and his pajama shirt clinging to his torso like a second skin.

Oikawa returns the smile, wide and utterly in love, and steps into the garden. The water falls on his skin, cool and heavy, while the wet grass tickles his bare feet. Tooru wiggles his toes, his smile widening at the sensation, before looking up at the love of his life, who waits for him with outstretched arms and playful eyes.

Come with me, I’ll catch you.

Laughter spills from Oikawa's lips as he runs towards Iwaizumi, leaping into his arms and clinging to him like a koala. Iwaizumi catches him, holding him tightly as they spin. The garden fills with their laughter, with love, with sweetness, with a relationship that has sprouted from the earth and climbed over slippery, cracked walls.

"Happy birthday again, Hajime-chan," Tooru smiles, cradling Hajime's face between his long fingers, gently brushing his rain-dampened cheeks with his thumbs. "30 years and you still have that same grumpy gorilla face, unbelievable," he jokes, lightly pinching his cheeks now, amused as Hajime's brow furrows in response.

"Oi, where's the rule about not messing with the birthday boy on his day?"

"It's a compliment! My favourite grumpy gorilla" Tooru hums, as if cooing to a baby. Despite Hajime's attempts to resist, he finds himself laughing, shaking his head at him.

"Shut up and kiss me now, will you?"

"Always so bossy" He playfully chides, sticking his tongue out in jest. Yet, he soon leans closer, tenderly brushing his nose against Iwaizumi's, a smile dancing on his lips as Hajime's touch on his thigh urges him on. Then, finally, kiss him.

Iwa's lips, cooled by the rain, remain as soft as ever, created specifically for Tooru's own.

When Oikawa looks into Iwaizumi's eyes, he sees his entire life reflected in green glass. And he knows that Hajime's soul is intertwined with his own, that it has always been this way. They were never strangers; they were there for each other all along, even when Tooru had yet to enter the world. Hajime simply waited for him.

...

one time i see that tweet that said stargazing by myles smith it's iwaoi's song and now i cant take that out of my mind

happy bday to the love of my life!! <3

i had a longer one shot writed but i didnt have time to finish but i'll post it as well when finish it!! thank u so so so much for reading

u can find this and me on my ao3 🍉

[orchidofthevclley]

Helloooo! It's been a while... lol.

I haven't written on here for some years now (I only wrote like 1 fic... BUT STILL LOL), but I had an interesting idea for a fic, or maybe a series, that I wanted to see if anyone would be willing to read! I want it to include the following:

I want it to be a Royalty AU, where the fem!reader and male!character are in an arranged marriage/marriage of convenience. I want it to be a sweet, maybe slightly angsty slow burn kind of story.

I know there are probably sooo many fics like this out there, but I love the concept so much!

I wrote a preview/snippet of the story that you can read below! Also found below are some characters I'm considering as the male!character in the story! I would appreciate if you could vote who you'd like for me to center this on!

Side note: I'm planning on making major changes to my masterlist, so if you want to take a look at that, please note that I probably won't write for most of those characters, and will be adding to it soon! I'll post once I've updated it!

Additionally, my schedule is quite busy and unpredictable, so my updates won't be that consistent. I would be so appreciative if you guys could be patient with me as I work out times to update the story consistently.

You can read the preview below:

The clouds wept from the sky above, a cool, delicate breeze engulfing the air like a comforting embrace. Thunder echoed, and lightning brightened and awakened the gloomy atmosphere—a complete opposite depiction of the emotions within his heart at that moment.

There she was, spinning and dancing amongst the rain and clouds as she unintentionally pulled its grace towards her like a magnet. And perhaps he was imagining it, but he swears there was an angelic halo above her head, and a glow from the heavens itself kissing her soft skin.

She was beautiful. She was a treasure worthy of being protected.

She was the embodiment of perfection; the kind of woman found in the most blissful dreams and fairytales.

And she was his. His wife; his forever partner. The one whom he can admire each day and love.

Love.

Love... from afar.

Because the moment she notices him, the walls will reconstruct themselves, The dancing will halt, and the once happy, tranquil expression she carried will return to her usual shy, weary one.

And he will, once again, have to control his heart, body, and soul from crossing the boundaries between them. He swears to wait for her to love him, even if it's a fraction of how much he loves her. Even if he must wait for an eternity, or until their last breaths.

After all, their relationship was one crafted out of necessity, a bond of convenience that benefitted everyone but them. A marriage seen by the eyes of the law and the public, but cold within the confines of their home.

He was never supposed to fall in love with her. He promised he wouldn't; swore he would treat her right, but also maintain his distance. Everything was going so well.

Until it wasn't.

She made it impossible not to fall in love.

So, for the time being, until the tides turn in his favor, he will continue to watch her from afar. He will guard his heart and his feelings until she comes to him. And if the graces are in his favor, he will wait for her to utter those three magical words to him, so that he also may express his truth to her.

Please vote a character in the poll above! Also, I would love to read any of your feedback, suggestions, and/or comments!

[delacyrose224]

ceilings

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x reader

Genre: Fluffy angst

Word Count: 1.4k

Author's Note: This just hurts but is also so sweet. Song of the day is ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine...so you've been warned!

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

“Want to go to a bookstore? I’ve been wanting to get a new book about Impressionism to try and improve my watercolor technique…”

You smile at the blond boy sitting across from you over your honey vanilla latte.

“Sure, I’d love to. I could use a new book,” you respond.

“One of those spicy ones?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you with laughter spilling out of his lips.

“Jinnie, please…don’t pretend you’re not a gigantic romantic. I’ve seen you swoon over my ‘spicy books’, don’t think I haven’t noticed you reading over my shoulder,” you laugh, swatting your hand towards his chest.

He grabs your hand unexpectedly and drags you up from the table. You look up into his eyes that are sparkling with mischief. 

“Let’s go!” He pulls you towards the door as you fight to balance your coffee in your hand without spilling it. Glancing out the window, you notice that while you’ve been sitting inside, it’s begun to rain…quite hard.

“Hyunjin, it’s pouring!” He merely throws a grin over his shoulder towards you, relentless in his tugging you out the door.

You’re immediately met with puddles that soak through your Converse and socks.

“We’re going to get sick!” you exclaim over the din of the downpour.

Hyunjin merely grabs your coffee cup out of your hand, and replaces it with his own hand.

“Dance with me.”

Your eyes grow wide as raindrops start to run down your face.

“What?!”

“You heard me, let’s dance!” 

Looking up at his face, you can’t find it in yourself to say no. He looks too excited, too endearing. You place your empty hand on his shoulder and a giggle escapes you.

Hyunjin puts his free hand on your waist, and you start doing an awkward waltz in the middle of the sidewalk, passersby throwing you odd looks as they sidestep the two of you. You remain oblivious, focusing on the boy in front of you-his infectious smile, long blond hair sticking to the sides of his face, and the way his eyes are locked on yours. Despite the chill in the air from the rain, you can feel a warmth blooming throughout your body as you spin into Hyunjin’s chest, where he catches you and brings you into a hug.

—---------------------------------------------

One damp bookstore trip later, Hyunjin is driving you back to your apartment. It had conveniently stopped raining as soon as you had stepped out of the store, and the heater is blasting, leaving you toasty as he pulls into a parking space just outside of the entrance to your building.

“I had fun,” you smile, unbuckling your seatbelt.

“I always have fun with you,” he returns. Your cheeks color at this, not wanting to leave-both because of the heat of the car, but also because of how Hyunjin makes you feel. Cozy, comfortable, and safe.

“...I have to go.” You’re not sure what else to say without pouring out every single emotion that’s threatening to spill out of you.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” The question is tentative, soft.

You nod. At this, Hyunjin leans across the middle console, pausing just shy of your face, an unspoken ask. You bridge the gap between the two of you, his plush lips connecting with yours. An immediate sigh leaves your mouth and you can feel him smile into the kiss.

As you come up for air, he moves to brush his lips over your forehead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

—---------------------------------------------

“You’re lovely.”

“Hmm?” You slowly open your eyes to see Hyunjin laying beside you, a dreamy look on his face.

“You’re lovely,” he repeats, a soft smile overtaking his features. He reaches out a hand and traces his long fingers over your bare shoulders and collarbone. Though his touch is warm, it gives you goosebumps.

You feel shy under his gaze, though this is not the first time you’d been in the same bed together. No matter how long you've been seeing each other, you don’t think you’ll ever get fully used to the way he somehow manages to both smolder and look so soft at the same time…it’s infuriating.

A smile lifts the corner of his mouth as you try to pull the covers up toward your face, and he reaches for your hand to stop you.

“Don’t hide, I want to see you. Always.”

Everything in you wants to shout how much you love the man in front of you, but you’re not sure if that would scare him away. You hadn’t said that to each other yet-and you weren’t sure if you ever would. You weren’t exactly a couple…you weren’t sure what you were. The two of you never bothered to define anything, and you were scared to ruin everything by saying the wrong thing. 

You settle for resting your hands on each side of his face, drawing him into a deep kiss, hoping that all of the emotion you’re feeling can be conveyed through your actions.

You hope he understands.

—-------------------------------------------------

A few hours later, Hyunjin is driving you home again. As much as you wanted to stay, you had work the next morning, and Hyunjin’s place is too far to commute from.

The drive feels short as you sit thinking through your emotions, debating whether you needed to share how you felt with him. He seems to sense that you’re thinking about something, keeping quiet until he pulls up in front of your apartment.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he offers finally as you start to gather your bag from the floorboard.

You look over at him, concern lining his features. The streetlight is illuminating his face from behind, almost making it seem like there’s a halo surrounding him. Before you can think too hard, your mouth outpaces your brain.

“Hyunjin, I love you,” you blurt, palm immediately flying up to your mouth as if it can take the words back.

His face is inscrutable for a moment, and the silence feels as though it might swallow you whole. You scramble for the door handle, but you feel a hand on your wrist as you start to open the door. Turning back, Hyunjin’s lips are crashing against yours with fervor, with so many emotions buried in his kiss that it brings tears to your eyes.

As he backs away, you can see that his eyes are glassy. “I love you too. So much.” 

At this admission, the tears roll down your cheeks.

“Why are you crying, lovely?” He swipes gently across your cheeks with his thumb, and you give a hiccuping laugh.

“...I could ask you the same thing.” You bring your hand up to his cheek, mirroring his actions. He smiles.

“I’m so lucky to love you, that’s why.”

—--------------------------------------------

“Earth to weirdo…what’s so interesting out there? I don’t even know how you can see anything.”

Hyunjin’s words bring you crashing back down to reality, and you glance down at your watch. You’d been staring out of his car window for the past hour or so, watching rain move in rivulets across the glass. 

You blink rapidly as you realize that you have tears in your eyes, trying to get rid of them. Once you feel like you look normal, you turn to look at your best friend in the driver’s seat. He looks over at you, grinning, and you can feel your heart squeeze in your chest. You’re so hopelessly in love with him and have been since you can remember-apparently it’s gotten so bad that you’ve just imagined a whole entire relationship with him in the time it’s taken you to drive across the city.

“We’re almost there!” he enthuses. “I know you haven’t dated anyone in a while, but I really think you’ll like this guy. We used to fight a lot when we first met-he’s just a lot different than me. A little chaotic, but funny and he’s actually a musician. I think you’ll get along great!”

You manage a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

“What’s his name again?”

“Jisung,” he replies, looking over at you. His face falls when he takes in your expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say hastily. “It’s like you said, I haven’t dated in a while and meeting new guys makes me nervous.”

“Well, like I said, I think he’s a good fit for you. And no pressure, it’s a group hangout, not a date. So if you don’t like him, that’s fine too,” Hyunjin reassures you.

You want to scream at him to stop, to turn around and take you home. Instead you nod almost imperceptibly, and he focuses back on the road. You feel bad for Jisung-you’re sure he must be a nice guy if he’s friends with Hyunjin. He might even be cute. 

The only problem is…he’s not Hyunjin. 

He never will be.

—----------------------------------------

Taglist: @hyungieyoongi @alpacaparkaseok @derinxfam

Find more of my work here!

[p-taryn-dactyl]

ooh maybe you could do some bucky x reader angst?? like angsty angst. that could be cool!

A/n: BUCKY ANGST AHAHAHA you know me so well. Also…this is very late I apologize :( word count: 1.1k warning(s): reader has died - angst - depressing - based on In The Stars by Benson Boone

In The Stars

    Sunday mornings were your favorite

I used to meet you down on Woods Creek Road

You did your hair up like you were famous

Even though it's only church where we were goin'

    Bucky slowly blinked awake, the stillness of the air keeping him in bed. He rolled over, staring at the empty spot in his bed, a heavy weight on his chest. Sighing, he sat up, rubbing his face with his hands. It was Sunday. You loved Sundays. You said it was your excuse to look your best, dolling up your hair and dressing in your best clothes. He could still smell your signature perfume lingering in the air. Checking the clock, Bucky just layed back down, having no reason to be up this early anymore. 

Now, Sunday mornings, I just sleep in

It's like I buried my faith with you

I'm screamin' at a God, I don't know if I believe in

'Cause I don't know what else I can do

    He woke up around noon, dragging himself out of bed to go into the kitchen. His pace picked up as he smelled breakfast, his heart rate increasing at something that couldn’t be true. He slid into the kitchen, his face falling when he saw the empty room, lights dimmed and appliances untouched. Your memory stained this room. You would spend hours creating meals that looked like they were straight out of a magazine. You would dance to music, spinning and twirling on the tile, making Bucky join you. Often you would forget something on the stove, your playful dancing quickly turning into frantic movements. Those nights were Bucky’s favorite. You would pout on the couch over your ruined meal, watching a movie snuggled up against Bucky’s chest as you ate a microwave dinner. 

    Now, Bucky wandered aimlessly through the kitchen, heating up leftovers that Sarah and Sam had dropped off a few days ago. He felt anger course through him when he saw the picture of you, the day he had proposed. Your smile was large as Bucky lifted you in the air, twirling you around. It was a few weeks before the accident. Before he got that god forsaken call. Punching the island with his metal arm, Bucky let out a cry. He didn’t know what to do now. You were his future and now you were gone.

    I'm still holdin' on to everything that's dead and gone

I don't wanna say goodbye, 'cause this one means forever

Now you're in the stars and six-feet's never felt so far

Here I am alone between the heavens and the embers

    Your funeral was a sunny day, something that irked Bucky to his core. You were his light, his sunshine, and the sun had the audacity to shine. He begged the sky to rain, to match what he was feeling inside but all that happened was the clouds parted to reveal even more golden light. When you were lowered into the ground, Bucky felt a piece of his soul be buried with you. He felt Sam’s hand on his shoulder, the dreaded question leaving his lips. 

    “Do you want to say goodbye?” 

Bucky shook his head while letting out a sob, hot tears pouring down his face. 

    “I can’t Sam. I can’t say goodbye because that makes this permanent. That means forever.” His voice was like broken glass, shards of emotion pouring out with each word. Sam let Bucky lean on him as the man sobbed, his tears staining Sam’s suit. In Bucky’s hands he clutched your necklace to his chest. A simple silver charm in the shape of a dove dug indents into his chest. You used to wear it everyday, never taking it off once. You were buried with the ring he gave you so now he pledged to never take this chain off, never to let the last piece he had of you be lost. 

    Oh, it hurts so hard

For a million different reasons

You took the best of my heart

And left the rest in pieces

    The days after your funeral were a whirlpool of emotions. Mostly anger, denial, and confusion racked Bucky’s brain. He threw furniture around, broke bottles against the wall, screamed as loud as he could with every breath. Some nights, he waited on the couch, facing the door, waiting for you to walk in. Waiting for you to tell him it was all a nightmare, waiting for you to wrap your arms around him and dry his tears. 

    But you never did. 

Diggin' through your old birthday letters

A crumpled 20 still in the box

I don't think that I could ever find a way to spend it

Even if it's the last 20 that I've got, oh

    Your family asked for some of your things, something to hold on to. Bucky understood yet couldn’t shake the anger he held towards their question. He had piled away your things into a closet, out of sight so he couldn’t be plagued by the memories. He found a box full of birthday cards, going back to your highschool years. Each one was worn, like you had reread them a million times. Each one resembled a smile he would never see again. One card caught his attention, a piece of money sticking out the side. A crumpled twenty dollar bill fell into his hand when he opened the card. He remembered when you received this card, the money from your ailing grandmother made your eyes well up with tears. He swore to never use the bill, even if it’s the last amount of money he had. He would rather go bankrupt than lose this piece of you. 

    I'm still holdin' on to everything that's dead and gone

I don't wanna say goodbye, 'cause this one means forever

Now you're in the stars and six-feet's never felt so far

Here I am alone between the heavens and the embers

Oh, it hurts so hard

For a million different reasons

You took the best of my heart

And left the rest in pieces

    Bucky sat by your grave, clearing away the dead flowers and grass. He planted new fresh flowers, dahlias, your favorite. The wind swirled around him like a warm hug, giving him an illusion to comfort. Tears fell down his cheeks as he stood up, leaning against the stone cold of your memorial. He took a deep breath before leaning forward to kiss your grave. He clasped your dove necklace around his neck, the cold charm centering his mind. He whispered against the stone, his words lost to the wind. 

    “I love you Y/N. Goodbye.”

a/n: …i don’t know if this is good or not but i have wanted to write a fic based on this song for a while so i hone you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading <3

[cynettic]

Stay with Me pt.3

Summary - You manage to escape from Scaramouche, if only for a moment before you realize there’s no escape. It only takes until you’re sitting back in your regular spot that you know what you need to do.

Pairings - Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warnings - Suggestive content, mentions of death, swearing, slight gore / blood 

A/N - Its really hard to make this depressing while I’m vibing to Rasputin. Like no joke- I have it on one of the 1 hour playlists :D

Here you’ll find -  pt.1 and pt.2

He’d left a key.

Scaramouche didnt make mistakes, not while he had you captive in the vicinity of his bedroom. He didnt have room for mistakes, not when you were watching his every movement while he was in your line of sight. 

Sure, he mightve killed a person or two in front of you, but those were necessary mistakes. There was a sign on the door, it specified not to enter. You’d understand that, right?

Thats what he thought at least, lulling himself into belief after belief that you’d be there waiting for him every time. That you’d welcome him with open arms, even if there were chains ensnaring your wrists. That you’d accept your fate at his hands and submit yourself to him.

The Balladeer was a fool.

He’d kept you there for too long, and while you searched for an easy way to escape, time sent your head spinning. Into a spiral that begged only for the wind against your face, back laying on dirt with the familiar chirping up birds waking you up in the morning.

You wanted to go outside.

And when push comes to shove, you had to risk a little more to make it happen. Lure him into bed with kisses while your hands unbuttoned his vest. But what he believed to be alluring contacts was just your way of finding the keys hidden in the back pocket of his shorts.

It wasnt hard to find the one to your cuffs while he was asleep, cuddled in your chest with both arms around your waist as if to get you to stay put. You took the key, hiding them back in his clothing and hoping he didnt notice.

He didnt say anything the next day.

You werent going to wait any longer.

“Oh for fucks sake, why won't the goddamn door open?”

The room was left in tatters behind you, a little gift for Scaramouche once he got back. Turns out a pair of chains can smash up a lot of things, and rage can be used as a great source of strength when contained for such a long time.

But you’d done more than throw the blankets around, cut up the drawers and smash open the windows. Because your fists had bled red when you punched through the glass, puncturing your skin. Your knuckles were an ugly red, bruising already.

Ah, Scaramouche deserved a much better gift.

Gruesome as it was, you rubbed your knuckles against the pale walls. Till the blood stopped coming, till there was a nice little message for the boy which you held so dearly to your heart.

‘Balladeer.’

The first time you’d found out about him being a harbinger he’d told you not to call him by that name. You weren’t someone he associated with by work, you were a treasure to him. That’s why you continued to call him as he pleased, although the temptation always arose.

You were no longer his.

Shoving the door with your hand again, palm fiddling with the handle and groaning when it hardly budged. “Stupid,” you grumbled when the knob began to loosen. Backing up, you charged with your shoulder to the door, full force as the momentum broke the hinges. The door fell down with you along with it.

It was expected, you’d been stuck in the room for a long time, and thats considering you’d sat on the ground for decades. Your body was slight numb, muscles sore and unused for so long. 

“You a-arent supposed to leave your room!”

A young man stood in the hallway along with a woman who looked relatively the same age. The two were wearing uniforms, flinching when you stood up from the debris and off the door. “Excuse me?” You asked, voice unnecessarily icy and stern. But you couldnt care less, you were going to get out of this house, damn anyone who stood in your way.

They both continued to shake when you walked towards them, staggering from side to side. The woman stepped up in front of the man, presenting a brave face. “If you leave the mansion, the harbinger will kill us all!”

“Well then I expect you should be on your way then. Actually…” you gestured to the maze of hallways. “You can lead the way.”

“What…?”

Your hand went limp to your side, an exasperated looking momentarily crossing your face before you sighed. “Im not staying trapped in that room, I’m sorry if that ruins your life, but frankly you're not the one stuck in there are you?” You took an extra step just to intimidate them, eyes wide to make the appearance of crazy. “It would be a great help if you showed me where he hid my vision too.”

“We can show you to the door…” The man began, “But the whereabouts of your vision are unknown, he wouldnt tell us something like that.”

A gift bestowed from the gods, a piece to help me thrive with my ambitions and pursue my goals.

Gone.

You really wished you’d taken to clawing out Scaramouche’s face instead, but you’d take what you got. Right now your main priority was getting out of this place, even if it meant leaving a piece of you behind.

“Door.” Your voice was raspy and there was a terrible feeling that crawled up to your throat, but you didnt have time to be emotional. “Show me where the door is… please.”

The conflict in their eyes dissipates by the time they lead you along, mumbling words between themselves. You didnt bother to try eavesdropping, you were so, so tired. You wanted to go home.

Anywhere. Anywhere but here.

It took a few minutes until you were standing in front of a grand door, almost twice the size of you and just as wide. You then began to notice the decorational plants and furniture that filled the empty space, there wasn't an inch of dust. Even though you could tell none of it was used.

“Hurry,” the man warned when you paused. “I dont know when our master is coming back, but if its soon, we’ll all be screwed.”

You couldnt feel your head as you numbly nodded, hand clenching the knob and flinging the set of doors open. “Thank you,” you merely mumbled, taking your first step out of the house in what felt like forever.

The days after that were a blur, the area around Scaramouche’s house were nothing but void. Empty and filled with forests and vast plains. You knew he didnt like people or socializing in general, but to this extent?

Your only option was to run.

Let your feet take you somewhere, anywhere. It was a constant pattern of running and taking breaks, leaning on a tree and gasping in a few breaths before you were again scurrying through the forest. 

And yet you felt better than you’d felt in past months that you’d been stuck with Scaramouche.

Food became any boar you came across, the claws you’d spent so long hiding with Scaramouche coming to unleash a wrath beyond your comprehension. Till the animal was cut to shreds and no meat was left even to eat. You’d slaughtered it, without intention to eat or benefit for it, you’d killed it just to kill.

“I’m sorry,” you’d sobbed into the ground where you’d buried the harmless animal. Forehead pressed into the dirt as you pleaded for forgiveness to whatever archons would accept it. You couldn't even remember what archons you were supposed to pray to. “Forgive me- forgive me…”

But eventually you found your way around to somewhere you knew. Territory of Inazuma where you could find your way back, back home.

Where was home?

You’d been on the run from the vision hunt decree, abandoning your post for the Kitsune Saiguu for such a thing. Even now that you could return without a vision and as no threat under the decree…

You’d sacrificed everything for your vision.

Where were you to go now…?

Rain patted down, the trees providing only a slight cover as stray drops fell into your matted dirty hair. You didnt mind, it hid the tears that slid down your lifeless face, feet taking you into the far meadows of your hometown. Till you plopped down underneath a tree, knees curled to your chest and arms hugging them close. You were crying.

You were home.

____________________

“Awh,” a ginger haired murmured, elbow resting on the cool wood of the tabletop. “Is little Mouchie sad? I heard your kitty cat escaped~”

A death wish, even fatui that idly minded themselves around the bar knew it. Sipping cold drinks and swirling their cups, the soft chatter was nothing but a distraction from the main course of events. That being the smaller Harbinger who sat sulking in his seat, hunched over with a drink in hand. He’d drank far more than what was on the counter, but everytime he finished a glass, he’d smash it on the ground, watching the fragile glass shatter into pieces.

“I dont have a cat,'' was his only response, tone daring Childe to pursue further. To give him a reason to start throwing the glass in his face instead.

And Childe was an idiot when it came to challenging someone.

“No cat?” The rest of the drink in the taller harbinger’s glass was gone when he threw his head back. “Hmmm, I cant think of what else could’ve had you so enraptured in returning home then~!”

Scaramouche didnt respond, uneven bangs shadowing the bags under his eyes. “Stronger,” he said instead, elbow on the counter and hand outstretched for something. When there was no movement from the man managing the wine, the harbinger looked up. “I need something stronger to drink,” he repeated, voice seething.

“Of c-course!”

The glass was nestled in Scaramouche’s palm in no time, fingers curling around the circular form to down it in seconds. The drink merely slid down his throat in one movement, alcohol burning his senses. It didn’t matter, he was numbed by the growing rage inside of him.

Finally, he turned to the ginger haired boy, eyes hazily dancing along the counter till it reached his fingertips. Up his hand and along his arm, till Scaramouche was staring right into Childe’s eyes. “They escaped,” he admitted softly. “But it’s alright, because I sent something that’ll bring them back.”

Childe paused, raising his drink up away from his lips to pose a question. Hesitation danced along his features before he brought the glass back, he’d rather not provoke the shorter male any further. Wasn’t like he could interfere anyway.

____________________

“That… that…” 

It was preposterous, having returned to that same spot for a day or two and heading back to the hometown you’d once lived in. The one Scaramouche had lived in. There shouldn’t have been an issue, you were solely gathering supplies for the sake of it, ambition driving you to travel far far away.

Out of Inazuma.

It was your new beginning, convincing yourself that you didn't need a vision. Finding some sort of purpose before Scaramouche shattered the vision and your life along with it. You’d seen how people had reacted when it had been ingrained in the statue, neutralized and broken. They lost hope, purpose and aspirations for anything new.

It’s not like the Raiden Shogun took my vision.

But you’d taken that fact for granted, expecting some sort of new start without Scaramouche. A victory, getting away from him just for a split second and getting out of Inazuma altogether, you’d never see him again.

Until you got his message.

“How the hell…” You crushed the note until it was just crumbled paper in your hand, slowly leaning on the stone wall. “Piece of shit… what kind of person even…” 

Not only did he manage to find you, but without making his presence known, he’d tugged at your one weakness with an ease that had you down on your knees.

You threw the paper to the ground, deliberate as you stared past the alleyway. Pensive as you considered your options. Damn, what options did you even have? You’d been an idiot to underestimate Scaramouche, he wasn’t a child, you knew that… but archons he seemed like one when he was with you. Shown you a vulnerability he wanted only you to see. But maybe that had been part of his plan all along, until all you believed was his soft demeanor.

He may act like a child, but he’s a harbinger.

You stared down at the crumbled piece of paper in disgust.

Not only that, but he has no regard for human life.

Either way, you’d lived decades more than him. You could face him, you would present yourself to him just as he expected you to. Even when everything in you rejected the idea, sobbed at the thought of returning to that house, those chains. Being locked up and confined only for the purpose of coddling a small boy, a selfish boy, a cruel boy. 

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

You’d figure out a way, and this time you wouldn’t rule out the option of his death.

———————

Oh darling Y/n, how have you been?

I hope this letter reaches you rather soon, we both have much to discuss, no? About me, about you, and much more. You see, I’ve taken up quite a distaste to your little friends. Stone statues in Inazuma as small as Kitsunes truly hold no purpose, what will they do, come back to life? Haha, I should think not. I’ve already arranged to have them demolished, who knows what kind of material they might possess. Ah, and of course I’d show you the finishing product, unless you’re willing to come and have a chat with me once more? Under the Sakura tree like we used to, you’ve waited years, I believe you can wait for me?

I hope this letter reaches you in best interests. I’m always looking out for you after all.

Sincerely, your Balladeer

——————

It was raining.

Beautiful weather as you lay sitting there, feet crossed and tucked in the same you’d often do. After all, there was no need to fear the vision hunt decree or the Raiden Shogun. Let them come, let them take care of you before Scaramouche did.

You werent cold, not when the cold drops dampened your clothing, slipping down the length of your spine and drenching your face. Despite having lived in a luxury residency for such a long time, this was where you were most comfortable, enduring whatever the weather had for you, taking it with a smile. Because you were waiting…

The Kitsune Saiguu was a distant memory.

You were waiting for Scaramouche, the young boy that often bound into the field in lengthy strides, childlike wonder in his eyes. The one who’d cried when the other kids pushed him away, the one that just wanted to be praised. You’d held him in your arms, and now, even knowing the results, you wouldnt have done differently.

He was just a boy.

Just a boy when he joined the fatui, looking for praise that he was given. He created chaos and bellowed orders with a cruelty that was highly looked upon. Told that he was doing well, so he continued to do so.

He’s just a boy.

You wished you’d held him in your arms, if not only for a tad longer. Shield him away from the wrongness of the world, if only for one last time.

Banishing away your hatred for him was hard.

But you found it under the tree, rain soon dimming down to a clouded cold breeze that swept through the meadow. You’d hated him while stuck in the mansion, but you could now see it from a larger point of view. What he did was wrong of course, but you could remember him so vividly now. His small form giggling, tiny arms around your neck. 

“Play with me!”

Was it your fault?

For not holding him tighter? For trying to rectify his bad doings and teach him what was wrong and right? Maybe if your grip was firmer, if you’d spoken to him about the warmth he’d given you that day when playing cards...

“Lazy ass.”

Burying down that pile of worry and insecurities, you took a deep breath in to relax. The edge of your lip perked up, only slightly. “Still terrible with your social skills arent you?”

Slowly securing a dry space under the three with you, Scaramouche sat down. His features were the same ones you’d grown accustomed to at his mansion. Rich clothes, sharp eyes, and the baby face that refused to go away. His movements were soft as he pulled out a deck of cards. The two of you didnt speak as he distributed them between you both. It was tense… no, it felt too much like the warmth form long ago to be tense. You only wished the situation to be different.

“I love you.”

But you could only offer a bitter smile to his words. “I love my vision,” you replied. “I love the Kitsune Saiguu, and I love my friends.”

His touch was gentle when his fingers came to gently cradle your cheek. Holding your face dearly as he peered into your eyes, his were soft. Different from the cruelty he held within, the hatred that burned and destruction that seeked to explode.

You saw a little boy.

Your hand came to press his hand further against your cheek, till you slid his palm to your lips. He appeared so calm when you pressed the first kiss, lips tracing the lines along his palm with all the care in the world.

But you needed to change your view, see him as the man he now was. As the man he had become.

“I love you,” he repeated, and you let go of his hand. It fell limp by his side, cards all but forgotten. There was a much more pressing matter at hand, because you truly needed to see him as he was.

It was necessary if you planned to kill him.

[luimagines]

He Asks You to Dance Part 3

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

Part 3 will include Wild, Wind and Legend.

Content under the cut!

Wild

Wild didn’t even know Terry Town was planning a festival.

But here he was, with all his new friends, celebrating with old, the one year anniversary of the inauguration of Terry Town. 

Wild had to be quick on his feet for what felt like the whole day.

Between preparing for the celebration, getting all the requests filled and making sure the group weren’t left to their own devices for too long, Wild felt like he didn’t have a lot of room to breath. Let alone take a break.

But that fine.

The group eventually pitched in and the whole thing managed to run smoothly without any problems.

By the time the sun was gone and the large bonfire was lit, Wild finally let himself sit down and enjoy the atmosphere.

He watched, content and satisfied that everyone seemed to be having a good time. 

Legend and Wind were haggling the musicians in the best way possible. Time, Twilight and Warrior happened to open up the booze and were drinking away with some other men of the town. Four and Sky seemed to be happy enough eating what they had prepared on the sidelines while Hyrule, he knew, was actually up by Mija and her fairy fountain.

He wasn’t a fan of crowds and wanted to talk shop and magic with the fairies.

Wild couldn’t blame him.

Wild took a deep breath and leaned against the bench, closing his eyes momentarily with a smile on his face.

Until he sensed movement next to him.

He opened his eyes again and looked over.

You sat next to him, a quiet and subdued air around you. You smiled at him and if he didn’t know any better he would assume it was genuine.

He’s instantly on edge.

“Tired Wild Child?” You ask. “You were running around like a cucco without their head all morning and afternoon, I thought the place was going to run you ragged.”

Wild snorts unexpectantly and he sits straighter. “A little. But nothing I can’t handle.”

“I’m just glad you’re actually taking a break.” You sighed and lean back. “This is nice. You did a good job.”

Wild preens a little at your words and he feels like he’s floating. “Go enjoy it then! You don’t have to spend the night moping next to me. I’ll hop in, in a minute. I just wanted to catch my breath.”

You hum and look away. “That eager to get rid of me, huh?”

Wild almost shoots off of the bench at your words and backpedals at the speed of light. “No, that’s not it at all! I was just-”

“Relax Link.” You smile that lie again. “I’m just messing with you.”

Wild frowns and looks over his shoulder to where Legend and Wind have more or less taken over to music and have begin to play something soft but lively, enough to get the people dancing and spinning around.

Wild gets an idea.

“Dance with me.” He stands and holds his hand out.

“What happened to catching your breath?”

“Caught it.”

You snort and look over. You’re sad, and he doesn’t know why. But what he does know, is that he doesn’t want you to lie anymore.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Dance with me.”

You consider it- longer than Wild would have thought to and finally, place your hands in his.

He’s stunned by how soft it is and how you fit into his hand perfectly, like a missing puzzle piece and he grips is gently, tugging you forward. “Just one.”

“Ok.” You looked down and step with him. “I can do that.”

You look back up and Wild’s breath gets caught in his throat. The light of the colored lanterns all around the two or you give you a pleasantly soft and sweet look to your face and your hair and Wild forgets that there’s more than you two at the moment.

He swallows and takes the leads.

And your smile.... well....

He can tell it’s not a lie anymore.

Wind

Wind had no idea what his grandma was expecting him to do with so little time to prepare for the High Tide Festival but Wind was never one to back down from a challenge.

The others were quickly put to work in helping in decorating the place and getting all the food together to feed to whole island and the visitors of Wind’s friend group. 

Wind didn’t actually want to help at all- he had promised to show you all around his home and he was stuck doing everything but that.

He doesn’t even know where you are right now but he wants to be by your side.

Not stuck by the stuffy adults and.... stringing up streamers.

He would normally be more excited for it, but not having you in his line of sight was putting a bit of a damper on his current mood.

He had promised...

“I got this Wind.” Twilight comes up from behind to take the box from his hands. “I think they miss you.”

There’s a bit of  teasing remark on Twilight’s breath, Wind can feel it but he looks over to where he gestures and see you there with your arms crossed and looking to the middle of the courtyard...

You look lost.

Wind feels himself still in that minute and he doesn’t think he actually had it in him to approach you.

Twilight snorts and pushes him forward slightly.

“They don’t bite.“ He says. “You wanted to spend time with them anyway right? Why the sudden cold feet?”

Wind gulps and tries to think of a smart answer. “Uhhh...”

Twilight claps him on his shoulder and walks away. “They were wondering where you were by the way.”

Wind bite his lip.

He did promise...

His first few steps are hesitant and unsure, and even when he finally makes his way next to you, you don’t seem to know he’s there.

“Hey.” Wind smiles ad takes your hand.

You startle and the small smile that graces your face does something funny to his chest. “Wind!”

There’s some music that begins behind you two, the musicians of the island begin to try and find the right mood they want to setting sun to have.

Wind grins and grips your hand tighter, pulling up gently in the direction. “Will you dance with me?”

You blink and smile wider. “Sure Wind.”

Wind feels himself grin and neither of you actually know how to dance but you’re laughing and he spins you around. 

Wind likes this.

Wind thinks this is nice.

Your laugh is nice.

Your smile is nice.

You’re nice.

Legend

Legend wasn’t really comfortable with the current chain of events.

He knew that every one was supposed to have a good time and relax and eat until they felt like they could burst... but he didn’t feel the desire to join them in this time of merriment.

Call him a barnacle if you wish but he would really be in bed and inside. But this was his Hyrule and he had to keep appearances for the group because they wanted to be out here in the festivities.

He wasn’t going to rain on their parade just because he wasn’t in the mood to be there.

He walked around, letting the time pass and watching all the other around him have fun and dance and sing- he would enjoy the party vicariously through them.

It was enough.

Until he saw you.

Briefly anyway.

You took off before he could really see what was happening but something in his gut told him that something was wrong. And he knows better than to ignore his gut at this point in his life.

He follows you and slows when he sees you rubs your eyes and pinch your nose and show all the signs of trying to stop a sob before it actually takes over.

“Hey.” The sounds leaves his mouth before he can even think twice.

You startle and harshly wipe the evidence away from your face.

“Are you ok?” Legend gulps slightly.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” You say. Like a liar. “I just got emotional. This is nice. Your home really knows how to throw a party.”

“Yeah.” He agree on his breath. “Are you-... What’s wrong?”

You sniffle and blink owlishly at him.

“I...” You start and sigh, wiping your hand on your tunic. “I can’t hide anything from you, can I? I’m fine really. I’m just a bit homesick, is all.”

“Homesick?” He walks toward you.

“Yeah. Around this time, back home, we’d have a festival just like this.” You say with a blissful look on your face. “It has everything. Food, music, games, shows and good company too. It... it didn’t really register that I’d miss it this year until a moment ago. I won’t be with my family for the first time and I just... got emotional. I’ll be fine. Really. Go have fun. You deserve it.”

Legend stands there, stunned before his ears pick up the subtle tune of a slow song in the background.

He looks behind him and then back to you.

You look too good to look sad right now, and it’s not like Legend is going to rain on the parade just because he would rather be somewhere else.

He holds his hand out and tilts his head. “Come on. Dance with me. You’re too beautiful to hide yourself away.”

“Link.” You sigh.

“It won’t be as much fun without you.” He says in a final attempt to get you go with him.

You look at his hand and smile, letting him pull you toward him and sway left to right with the music. “Alright. You win.”

For a moment, when he spins you around and begins to lead a more cohesive dance with you in his arms, Legend actually thinks that there’s no other place he’d like to be.

[mercurialrain]

Day 5: Midnight

Marinette flung her arms out, spinning in a circle as she embraced the cool air and the raindrops that decorated her arms as dewdrops would decorate leaves in the early morning. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was spread into a wide smile, lighting up the dull air with her joy. She loved nothing more than rainy days, days where everyone hid inside and she went outside, reveling in the feel of it. 

And today, like the others, she felt eyes on her. And today, she would find the source of it. 

She pushed her wet hair out of her eyes, turning her head towards where she felt the stare coming from. It was at the edge of the forest, the one that locals had warned her to never go into alone. They said that it was foggy even on the sunniest days, that birds refused to sing, that people would vanish and never return. Even still, her curiosity won out. 

She walked towards the forest, the wet grass tickling her bare feet as she did. When she made it to the edge of the forest, she paused, searching her instincts for what she should do next. She had never been the most logical of people, more likely to trust her gut than her brain, which had resulted in many strange encounters, but none of them bad. 

Marinette followed her senses and the feeling of eyes on her, both of which acting as a sort of compass. She was paying more attention to her feelings than her surroundings, so it wasn’t much of a surprise to her when she ran into someone. 

“Oh! Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.” She smiled brightly up at the person, quietly noting how his ears tapered into points and his (beautiful rain-cloud colored) eyes seemed to look right through her. 

“You are about to enter the Fae world. Are you sure that you wish to do this, human?” His voice was quiet but strong, sure of itself. 

“Is that where I was going? I was really just following my instincts; they’ve never really led me astray before. Hey, were you the one watching me?”

A bit of pink painted the pointed tips of his ears. “Perhaps.”

She hooked her arm through his, much to his sputtered surprise. “Excellent! You can be my guide!” Without any more thought, she charged through the shimmer that dictated the Border between the two worlds. 

The Fae’s strangled cry followed them through the Border as he desperately tried to pull her back before she crossed. The Border was dangerous for humans if they weren’t properly prepared, some had even lost their minds just trying to see Fae lands. He had only meant to watch, not to lure. 

Marinette stopped just on the other side.

“Oh,” she breathed, her mind working overtime to grasp the beauty. 

It was nighttime for the Fae, and fireflies lit the night over a dance floor. The dance floor itself was flattened grass bordered by gorgeous flowers as Fae whirled through the air with almost unfair grace. Luscious trees with ripe fruits were planted everywhere and her fingers longed to pluck an apple just as much as her tongue longed to taste it. 

The Fae had other ideas. 

“You stupid human! What are you doing, barreling headfirst into the Fae world?” He scolded, now holding her by the arm like she was a misbehaving toddler. 

Marinette didn’t mind. It felt like a part of her mind, long distant, was sliding into place. Her Nonna had warned her of this, of the pull the Fae lands had to their family. She wasn’t called ‘little fairy’ for no reason. She didn’t know the full story, but she knew that her very being here was dangerous. So why was the danger so tantalizing?

Without answering, she pulled the Fae to the dance floor, ignoring all of his attempts to dig in his heels until suddenly her back was to a tree, a vine around her waist to keep her there as he caged her in with his arms. He almost looked panicked, which twinged a strange emotion in the back of her mind. 

“You must wake up. You cannot let the pull take you over.” His tone was verging on frantic. 

She blinked. “The pull?”

“The Fae world draws you. But you will be lost forever if you do not leave by midnight. You give your world so much joy, mine would only tear you apart until even your smiles would be empty mockeries of what once was. Please, leave.” He put his forehead against hers. 

What was she doing? She gasped, feeling like she was finally surfacing from a wave that had entirely submerged her. “What happened to me.”

He exhaled. “You broke the pull. Thank the Fates.”

The Fae was very close. Close enough so that she could smell the berry scent of his skin, that she wanted to touch his porcelain looking skin. Her mind was clear from the influence of the Fae world, yes, but not the influences of her own emotions. 

She was still secured to the tree, but her arms were free, so she lifted her hands to run through his golden hair. He stiffened at the touch but didn’t pull away. Marinette wanted to push, see what he would allow her to do. She lowered one hand to lift his chin so that their lips met in an unassuming touch. 

It seemed that the simple kiss reduced whatever control the Fae had over himself to ashes and he responded eagerly. One of his hands slid down her side slowly until he reached the small of her back, using it to pull her ever closer while the other hand tangled in her hair to keep her head close. When she tugged on his hair, he groaned and bit her lower lip with his slightly elongated canines, something Marinette found weirdly attractive. 

When they parted, she could see the impact she had in those gray, gray eyes, as fogged with desire as they were. He raised his hand, tracing a finger along her cheekbone, as if trying to memorize the shape of her face. With a snap of his fingers, flowers at their feet wove themselves into a crown that he placed on her head, giving an oddly smug look at it. 

“What does the crown signify?” She dared to ask, running a finger along some of the petals. 

“That you are mine,” he responded simply.

Before she could think, or blush, or stammer, he picked her up, swallowing her startled yelp with another kiss. “We must get you out before midnight. It would not do to allow my people to find you at such a dangerous time.” He carried her through the Border and gently set her on her feet at the edge of the forest, kissing her once more before turning to leave. 

“Wait! When can I see you again?” She was almost embarrassed to voice such a pathetic sounding question, but he only smiled. 

“Whisper my name to the flowers, and I will come.” 

“But I don’t know your name.” 

“Yes, you do. Search your heart, Marinette.” With that, he was gone, stepping through the Border before she could say another word. 

She stood there for a moment, frustrated and worked up, then focused on calming herself down. She knew his name. She did. Inhale, exhale. 

With a gasp, her eyes flew open. 

Felix.

[chronic-ghost]

👀👀👀 tell me about ‘The distance between us’ please!!! 💕

okayokayokay

so this is another post season 3 fic where Kate is really struggling to get back to her old self. She doesn’t feel close to Scott any more, she can’t quip with the boys any more — she just feels weird to be back in her body. It’s gonna be in three parts (mirroring the stages that a snake sheds its skin) and it’s basically a character study (a sexy character study because Seth) about her realizing that she has to become a new person, a newer version of herself to embrace the world. It’s just a really emotional, really dragged out coming of age story, but this bitch (I’m this bitch) can’t write anything under 4K.

Here’s some so far: 

Memories of her life before Amaru unfold like flower petals in the rain. Like the one with Jessica and Jared and Cole, it wasn’t there and then it was. A void, then a white-hot flash, and then existence. The taste and weight of memories come soon after the pictures dance across her mind. She remembers Cole’s almost sticky hand, how he smelled like BO the closer he got to her on the couch, and the disgust and anger at the writhing knot of bodies in the back of the room. 

She doesn’t know what triggers the memories and she certainly can’t stop when they come or how they will make her feel. Just the other day she smelled pancakes and a mother’s day from seven years ago rolled in, reminding her of her mother’s laugh, how sweet joy makes her head spin, and how that was one of the last happy mother’s days she ever had. 

They come and go, settling deep in her mind in their rightful homes again, she feels almost winded after they pass. The memories, the emotions, the almost invasive undertow — sometimes it leaves her gasping, as though a ghost had just blown through her body, and it sucks her dry. In a single burst, she is consumed by the expanse of an emotional depth she no longer thought possible, and it's gone and she is empty. She has to right herself in the hallways, in the dark, until the last bit of wind leaves her and she stores the memory, knowing it happened to a girl just like her, but perhaps one with a fuller face, with a belief in the divine, and a home. These memories happened to someone, but maybe not her. 

Kate gulps in cool air which, given that it was summer in Texas, was a minor miracle. She’s standing, no, leaning in one of the back hallways of Jack Knife Jed’s. As sound returns to her, she can hear the bustling of the staff, the low laughter of a bad joke, and the clutter of plates being tossed around. It’s a buzz, but it’s comforting. Grounding. 

She can swallow the wind, so she turns and heads to the managers’ office. 

It’s a wood box and she knows a part of Richie dies every time he’s forced to do paperwork here instead of his plush, black leather offices in the back of the warehouse, inches from his scotch and silk robe. It looks exactly like what you’d expect the office of a two-bit rest stop in the middle of nowhere to look like and it is, in a word, tacky. There's a shift schedule pinned to a ratty corkboard. There are depressing brown file cabinets that hold disturbing dark secrets. The peeling shelves are filled with food regulation manuals and inspection binders. The single window is boarded up, as if to complete the look of absolute despair, but that in fact serves a purpose. The simple purpose of keeping one of the co-owners alive and not burnt to a crisp, which by the sounds of it, the co-owners might wish were not the case.

“For the last time, you dick, it’s about progress! And reinvention and revelation!”

“You’re completely missing the point. When it comes down to it, a weapon is a weapon and no amount of big brain thinking is going to save your ass!” 

“How can you still think in these miopic terms, Seth? After everything you’ve seen?”

“Miopic? Miopic?? Using SAT words doesn’t make you more right, you mio-dick!” 

“You don’t even know what it —,”

She knocks on the door frame and — Richie’s hands molding into fists into Seth’s black shirt, Seth’s furiously fingers wrapping around the coffee mug at the desk — both froze in place. 

They stare at her like a corpse who had been declared dead had suddenly gotten up and started tap dancing on the table — with shock, surprise, and a fair amount of concern.

No one moves. The old Kate would know exactly what to say to pop them apart, a disapproving comment that was just glib enough both would have been a little ashamed but amused. Instead, her memories are few and far between and her tongue tastes like the sand in her bed and she can’t think of a damn thing to say.

The moment drifts until the two Gecko boys release each other with side eyes and scowls. 

“What are you fighting about?” Her tone is more judgemental than she means it. 

Is that blush that’s creeping up Seth’s dark skin on the back of his neck?

Richie adjusts his glasses and says, with stern confidence, “we were arguing who would win a fight: an astronaut or a caveman?”

Seth’s expression is unreadable as steps away from his brother, sliding easily into the shoddy wooden chair behind the metal desk. 

“So settle the bet, Princess.” He says casually as he nudges Richie off the edge of the desk with his foot. There is some energy about him as if he isn’t done antagonizing his brother and intends to take the fight outside of the small office. “A poindexter or man with an animal instinct?”

Richie scowls, but says nothing. 

To her absolute horror, they are waiting for an answer. They want to know what she thinks. They value her opinion. 

She begs silently for another gust of memory, but nothing comes. “I, uh, I —,”

“C’mon, Kate, just tell Seth he’s an idiot and I’m right,” Richie says smugly. 

This is a dance they did, a repertoire. An ebb and flow to a music she can no longer hear. 

Her scalp itches.

“I actually came to ask if Scott’s room was made up.” She wants to dig up under her nails to get to the sand there, but she restrains herself, knowing how it would look. “He’ll be back tomorrow and I just want to be sure everything’s ready.” 

Seth leans forward and grabs a pen. “Don’t think so, but I’ll get one of the cleaners out there and —,”

“No, no, it’s okay.” 

His eyes lift up and finally meet hers directly. His soft, warm eyes full of — what is it? What is he feeling when he looks at her?

She swallows and shakes her head. “I want a project. Even if that project is manual labor.” 

She tries to smile and she can feel each of her teeth screaming, Liar. 

Richie exchanges a glance with his brother at the desk, who takes something silver out of the desk drawer and tosses it at her. A pair of keys.

“Laundry room is downstairs. Ask one of the bus boys if you need help loading the machine. It’s industrial. Brooms and shit are in the supply closet.” He’s thrilled, she knows that much. He’s thrilled she left her room and wants to do something. The light in his eyes is almost enough to give her hope. “Knock yourself out.”

[likeshipsonthesea]

I don’t know if you take requests for nurseydex fics... but if you do the song “omg did she call him baby” by Beth McCarthy screams a heartbroken Nursey when Dex has a girlfriend

i like really can’t do genuine heartbreak but i CAN do angst that ends happy, so here’s my best shot :)

Nursey’s got a red Solo cup in one hand and a plastic champagne flute in the other and it’s sometime after three but before five and he is definitely not thinking about her or him or them together when he looks up between one sip and another to see the telltale blue hair reflecting the murky spotlights of the basement.

Nursey squints. He could be making things up--his brain is nice like that-- but he doesn’t think he’s imagining things. She’s got very distinctive hair, Dex’s--girlfriend. It’d been rather disappointing, actually, the blue hair. The whole thing had been easier to deal with when he’d been picturing some light-haired brunette going for an economics degree who smiled like a mom at soccer practice. Someone who Nursey could reasonably dislike on grounds of, like, predictability.

But no, Dex had to bring home a blue-haired physics major with a nose ring and good taste in music and the ability to out-argue Shitty while polishing off Bitty’s pie, i.e. perfect. Even Lardo couldn’t pretend like she wasn’t awesome for Nursey’s sake. Even Nursey can’t pretend like Amanda isn’t awesome for his own sake. She’s just so--so--

Nursey squints.

So-- making out with some random girl in a blouse at a frat party.

What the fuck.

Nursey is about two margaritas and three years too deep to be dealing with the emotional ramifications of catching the girlfriend of his best friend (who he’s also kind of sort of possibly maybe totally in love with) macking on some consultant for Goldman Sachs or some shit in the basement of arguably one of the worst frats at Samwell. This one doesn’t even have good music, Nursey’s only here to get drunk without the possibility of Dex calling Nursey Patrol and helping Nursey up the stairs and saying nothing about the poetry Nursey spills or the way his hands linger.

(Fuck does Nursey hate Nursey Patrol, fuck does he hate how much he loves it.)

Nursey downs the rest of the champagne flute--which was probably mostly orange juice at this point anyway-- and hands the red Solo cup to a freshman gearing himself up to talk to a cute boy a few feet away and then Nursey gets the fuck out of dodge. He manages to get a better look at the corporate recruiter Amanda is cheating on Dex with (and really, if you’re going to cheat on Dex, you’re really going to pick a chick in a blouse that probably has opinions on the stock market???) and if he hadn’t been sure before, the distinctive tattoo on Amanda’s shoulder proves that it’s really her.

(“Tattoos? Tattoos? I have tattoos.” “I know you do, Nurse.” “They’re really nice tattoos.” “I know they are, Nurse.”)

Emerging from the basement and then the frat house itself is instantly sobering. The chill from winter hasn’t quite left the air at night and Nursey wraps his arms around himself and doesn’t think about how Dex chirped him about not wearing a coat before he’d left. The frat isn’t far away from the Haus, thank god, but it is slightly farther when he turns left instead of right and then has to a backtrack a bit, but he still gets back in under ten minutes and he can still feel his hands, so overall, a win.

Attempting to get into the Haus quietly is a lost cause, given its one thousand year old floor and the fact that a ladybug could fart in the kitchen and wake up the guys in the attic. Still, Nursey gives it the good college try, which is why he’s creeping ridiculously through the living room when the light turns on suddenly and he screams, much to the amusement of Dex, standing in the kitchen doorway.

“Fuck, dude, what the fuck.”

Dex just smirks in that horribly attractive way of his. “How was the Psi-U basement?”

Nursey thinks of blue hair, washed out in the lights, Amanda’s hand on that girl’s cheek, the way Dex smiles when he’s around her. “Fine,” Nursey says, swaying.

The amusement falters and Nursey wishes he could figure out a way to keep the smile on Dex’s face the way Amanda does. Dex takes a step closer. “Are you alright?”

Nursey shakes his head violently and takes a step back, a step farther away. This is the part where he says yes, yes of course Dexy-darling, I’m right as rain, what about you? This is the part where Dex rolls his eyes and loops his arm around Nursey’s waist, his warm side pressed into Nursey’s. The part where they go upstairs, where Nursey writes his best poetry that he’s too embarrassed to write down when he’s sober, where Dex tells him to sleep well and lingers outside the doorway long enough for Nursey’s breathing to slow and then the floor creaks and Nursey knows he’s gone and wishes he’d held on just a little bit longer--

“Nursey, what’s wrong?”

Nursey shakes his head again. He means to say nothing, he means to say, I’m going to bed, he means to-- “Amanda, she--”

The concern turns to alarm. Why can’t Nursey ever make it better? “Is she alright? Did you see her? Is she okay?”

Nursey shakes his head again. He can’t seem to stop doing that. “She’s fine, she--she--” He swallows, and it’s sticky, cloying, citrusy and sweet on the back of his tongue. “She--there was this girl, she-- Amanda, she--”

Dex won’t stop frowning, concern knitting his eyebrows together with three short wrinkles, and Nursey has wanted to smooth them out with his fingertips every time he sees them since sophomore year, and he shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be telling Dex this while he’s drunk, shouldn’t be telling Dex this at all, but he’s Nursey’s friend first and Nursey has to believe he’d tell Dex regardless of the love thing, he must--

“She was kissing some girl. In the Psi-U basement.”

The wrinkles smooth out. The amusement returns. Nursey--he can’t make sense of it over the ringing in his ears. Why is Dex smiling? Did--did Nursey do that?

“Did she look like a lawyer?” he asks, and at Nursey’s confusion clarifies, “The girl Amanda was kissing. Did she look like a lawyer?” Nursey nods dumbly. Dex’s smile only grows. Nursey is so, so confused and also more in love than he’s ever been. “Finally. I just won fifty bucks.”

What the fuck. “What the fuck.”

Dex laughs--laughs. “The girl’s name is Tammy. She graduated last year and moved to Boston. Amanda’s been in love with her forever, and I bet her that she’d get with Tammy before I--” Flush appears high on Dex’s cheeks, the soft pink one that means embarrassment and Nursey imagines would taste like cherry pie against his lips.

Nursey is--still quite a bit drunk. He needs--clarification. “You--you bet your girlfriend that she would get with her friend at a frat party?”

Dex’s nose scrunches up in Nursey’s favorite way--the same way it does when he’s trying to write humanities essays, the reason Nursey always says yes when Dex asks for help. “Girlfriend? Did you think Amanda was my girlfriend?”

Nursey remembers the start, hearing about Amanda every other day, then every day, then it was, sorry I can’t come, I’m meeting Amanda at-- and then one day at Annie’s, a girl with blue hair and a sharp grin yelled Babe! from across the room and planted a kiss on Dex’s cheek, her hand lingering on his shoulder, sipping from his coffee cup, getting him to smile like that--

“Well, yeah.” Nursey’s head is spinning and, for the first time tonight, not from the gin. “Is she--is she not?”

“Oh God, no, she’s so fucking gay, dude.” Laughter twinkles in Dex’s eyes. Nursey is drunker than he’s been since freshmen year of high school when Shitty snuck in some of his dad’s hard liquor and the janitors found them on the roof singing Disney songs at the moon. Dex’s girlfriend is gay. Dex’s girlfriend isn’t his girlfriend. Dex is--is smiling at him like he smiles at his girlfriend who isn’t his girlfriend.

“Oh,” Nursey says, dazed, “chill.”

“Oh wow,” Dex grins, leaning into the doorframe, “I can’t believe you thought--and you thought telling me my girlfriend was cheating on me at 3am while shit-drunk was a good idea?”

Nursey says, “Hey, honesty is important, and I’m not--” He stops. He remembers something. He squints. “Wait. If you bet 50 bucks on Amanda getting with Tammy, who did Amanda bet you would get with?”

The cherry pie blush is back. Nursey takes an absent-minded step forward. The room feels so much lighter now that Dex’s girlfriend isn’t cheating on him. The distance between them feels so much sillier now that Dex doesn’t have a girlfriend.

“Ah, well.” Dex rubs at the back of his neck, all country bumpkin sheepish to ask his sweetheart to the dance, and--and--

“I’m the sweetheart,” Nursey realizes with the kind of crystal clarity only afforded by the most copious amounts of alcohol.

Dex’s eyebrows furrow, those sweet little wrinkles appearing between them, and Nursey takes two long strides forward and presses his thumb into them. Dex goes cross-eyed trying to watch, but moves his eyes to meet Nursey’s after a moment.

Nursey grins, likely a bit sloppy from the gin, but he can’t find it in himself to care at the moment. “I’m the sweetheart,” he repeats, beaming.

Dex tries to repress the smile at his lips. “You’re not a sweetheart.”

“Yes I am,” Nursey sings, listing forwards. “You like me.”

“You’re an asshole.” Dex’s smile grows. Nursey watches its progress and sways.

“They’re not mutually exclusive,” he says, tracking the pink lips as they spread, revealing teeth and--and tongue and--

“I hate that you can still say mutually exclusive when you’re this drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. See, I’ll prove it.”

“How do you plan on--”

If Dex’s mouth weren’t so preoccupied, he might say that the taste on Nursey’s tongue is a good indication that he is in fact fairly tipsy, but as it is--well. He’s got other things to do.

(Amanda asserts that they tied since it happened on the same night and only pays $25. Tammy throws in five more and a condom and they call it even. Nursey kisses away Dex’s protest and pockets the condom, much to Amanda’s amusement. Turns out, she’s even cooler when she isn’t dating the love of Nursey’s life.)

[little-diable]

Greasy Hands - Spencer Reid (smut)

Written by @playboysbunny​ and little-diable (that’s me - in case you were wondering). Thank you for writing the fluff and letting me have my fun with the smutty part. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: a soft drabble about a broken down car, a confused Spencer and some lovemaking in a garage

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

“You don’t understand,” she complained, “my dad used to fix everything! Dishwashers, washing machines, radios - anything that broke, my dad could fix!”

Spencer nodded, trying to calm her. 

“I just don’t see the issue in sending it to the mechanic.”

She threw her arms in the air, releasing a frustrated sigh. 

“It just doesn’t feel right!”

Spencer let her emotions settle. (Y/n) paced her apartment, back and forth, his eyes watching her from his leather reading chair in the corner. He kept his eyes on her with a patient expression, as she slowed eventually she stopped in front of the window. (Y/n) held a hand at her jaw as she watched the sunset; she didn’t want to admit what Spencer clearly already knew.

He didn’t push her, waiting for (y/n) to come to her own conclusion. She spoke in a whisper without turning to him.

“It just feels like he’s really gone,” she said. “He’s not here to fix my car and now it’s real. He’s really gone.”

(Y/n) didn’t cry as she had through the months. Her father had passed in the fall and the green of the trees now brought her some sort of hope and solace; things would get better. It wasn’t the changing of the seasons that brought her peace, though. No, that was Spencer. 

She turned to him then and sighed, his expression was understanding and sympathetic.

“We’ll figure something out,” Spencer said, getting up from his chair. He walked across the room and took her in his arms, placing his chin on the top of (y/n)’s head.

They spent the evening together, since she was lucky enough to have him home for a rare occasion. He unfolded the team’s latest case for her over a bottle of red wine, sparing the gorey details, but giving them to her bit by bit as she begged for them. They made dinner together, danced to music she liked, but Spencer detested, but he went along with it anyway, spinning her around the kitchen and reciting all the words to her as he memorized them instantaneously.

Over dinner, she told him the downfall of her day; on the way home from work, her car suddenly started overheating and she ended up in a strange neighborhood she’d never ventured into before. It was an industrial area without a lot of foot traffic. Every window had a set of accompanying bars. (Y/n) felt oddly isolated and out of place. She was uncomfortable and nervous and then she had to walk away from her car to get a signal to call a tow truck.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Spencer scolded her from across the table. “If something had happened to you…” he couldn’t finish the thought.

“What choice did I have?” (Y/n) countered. “Should I have stayed there and waited for you to come and rescue me?”

“I would have,” he replied. “I will always find you.”

He looked at her over the candlelight, his eyes glistening with truth. His words filled her with exultant joy.

They went to bed together, finally reuniting after weeks apart. Spencer fell asleep quickly, exhausted from the case he’d just returned from. He held her in his arms as she drifted off to sleep.

(Y/n) woke up alone and felt the coldness of his absence, frantically searching for a note; he’d always leave a note if he was called to a case and she was still asleep. She patted her hands around in the dim morning light, finding nothing.

She launched herself out of the bed and threw on whatever she could find. (Y/n) ran into the living room in his boxers and his button down from the night before.

“Spencer?”

The hollow echo of the empty apartment made her heart drop. She scanned the room quickly, looking for him. His go-bag was still sitting by the door, his keys and badge on the table beside it. A cup of cold coffee was resting there too, under the faint light from the floor lamp that Spencer had left on. In his leather armchair, there was a thick book she hadn’t seen before.

(Y/n) picked it up and read the cover aloud. “Haynes Repair Manual based on a complete teardown and rebuild?”

It was for her 1969 Chevrolet Camaro, though she was positive she didn’t own the manual. Why would she? She had no idea how to fix anything. 

(Y/n) grabbed the only pair of shoes she had left at the door - an old pair of tall, yellow, rubber rain boots - and ran into the hallway of her apartment building. She rushed down the stairs with the manual still in-hand. (Y/n) ran out to the back alley, where her car and others were in a long string of garages; of course, her garage door was already open.

“Damn!” Spencer yelled, clattering around under her car.

The hood was propped up and the car was up on jackstands. Spencer’s legs dangled out from underneath and tools and parts were scattered about the garage floor.

“Where did you get all this?” (Y/n) shouted.

Spencer rolled out from under the car and propped himself up on his elbow. He was in ratty blue jeans she’d never seen before and a plain white t-shirt. He was covered with splotches of black grease like a child that had been dabbling in finger paints. 

“All of what?” he said, incredulously.

(Y/n) waved the manual in the air above her head. 

“Spencer!” she laughed, “What are you doing?”

He stood up then, tossing the bolts he held in his hand to the floor. He ran a hand through his messy hair, stopping to pull on the roots. 

“You need your car fixed and that’s what I’m going to do! It shouldn’t be this hard, really,” he huffed. “It’s simple mechanics and mathematics, you’d think someone with a Ph.D in both would be able to do it!”

He continued rambling on, kicking the bolts he had scattered, waving his hands as he struggled to explain to her how his brain and his hands seemed to have a disconnect. Spencer carried on like that for a while and she knew best to let him have his soliloquies. But (y/n) didn’t miss a single drop of sweat that ran down his slightly heated skin. 

She couldn’t help but stare, forcing herself to stay calm, trying to drown out the needy longing for her man.

There was something about the way the frustration spurred him on that made her lose her focus. His intensity and passion had (y/n) biting her lip in anticipation. She couldn’t control the feeling that arose in the pit of her stomach. 

He moved back to the car and attempted to refocus himself, reciting the steps of the manual he had memorized as he got back to work. How easy - she thought - it would be to let him bend her over the car, to allow Spencer to run his oil covered hands all over her body.

“You’re staring.” 

The change in Spencer’s tone recaptured her attention, though he didn’t lift his head to make his remark; his eyes were focused on his task, his expression strained from stopping his smirk from spreading.

For a profiler, Spencer had never been very aware of her advances, to the sly glances she’d cast his direction. But now - with her thighs pressed together, her teeth pierced into her lower lip, the soft humming that she trilled while she was lost in her fantasies of him - he knew all about the heat that took over her senses. 

He didn’t need to be a genius to understand her, to know the arousal that was dripping from her folds, about the way her nipples were beginning to harden, uncomfortably rubbing against the material of his button down shirt hung over her body.

She stumbled over her words, nervously pulling a strand of hair behind her ear. 

A small “sorry” left her slightly parted lips, coaxing a chuckle out of him. Spencer rose from his kneeling position, hand reaching for hers, pulling (y/n) in for a messy kiss, tongues meeting, teeth clashing - clearly projecting the lust that kept them both distracted. 

He pulled her in close, resting himself on the side of the car.

“Maybe I should get cleaned up first,” Spencer said, putting some distance between them, very well knowing that he’d lose control soon. 

But the pleading whine that escaped her held him frozen and gaping as she fell to her knees in front of him, reaching for his belt loops. He braced himself on the car behind him. His usually busy psyche suddenly emptied, thoughts instantly leaving his mind as his tongue wet his lips, enjoying the feeling of her warm hands on his clothed bulge as she rubbed him through the fabric.

“Somebody's excited,” (y/n) teased. 

He turned down to her, a wide smile on his pretty face, his eyes glazed over in ecstasy. Slowly - teasingly - she undid his trousers, kissing up his thighs as she toyed with the elastics of his boxers. Her touches burned on his skin, pushing the genius into a dangerous headstate; the blood was quickly rushing down to his hard cock. 

He couldn’t remember his own name, and best yet, he didn’t care.

As her hands grasped his length, Spencer gasped her name - relieved to finally feel her soft skin pressed against his sensitive one. (Y/n)’s thumb circled his tip, smearing the drops of precum that bearded his skin. She couldn’t help but have a taste, lips parted, allowing him to thrust forward, cock disappearing down her throat.

Every moan that left her vibrated on his skin, pushing him closer to his release - but it was much too soon for Spencer's liking. He wanted to fill her up, claiming her, his lover, in the most sinful way, with his seed spilling out of her as she’d cry out for him.

“(Y/n), I’m going to fuck you so good, you’ll-” he moaned, she cut his rambling short as she added more pressure to her movements. 

She couldn’t deny the effect his words had on her. (Y/n) loved to hear his dirty talk and the promises he’d make as waves of euphoria would clash upon him. 

It was no secret that he was close, tightening his grip on her hair, unevenly panting her name. She was eager to push him over the edge - oh, so eager to please him - but he pushed her away before he could reach his peak.

A few moments of silence engulfed them both, the only sound echoing through the air came from the heavy breaths spilling from his lips as he tried to calm himself. 

As if he had heard her thoughts, he reached down, yanked her up by her biceps and turned (y/n) so that she could rest where he had been on the side of the car. His hungry lips grazed her neck, leaving wet trails on her skin as he snapped the hood of the car down with a forceful crash. 

Wordlessly she positioned herself for him, ripping the boxers she had thrown on down her legs, exposing her glistening wetness to his wide eyes. She leaned back as he lifted her onto the car’s hood. 

(Y/n) pledged to take him on a wild ride as she’d beg for her release.

Spencer took in every word, “let me taste you first. I bet you made quite a mess, didn’t you?”

Two fingers of his ran through her slit, spreading her slick on her folds, on her clit. She was addicted to his touch, completely at his mercy. 

(Y/n) was putty in his hands, would do anything he’d asked of her if it meant that she could cum on his fingers. He enjoyed watching her moan for him - she was begging for more, so lost in the fantasy that her words became nonsense.

As he pushed his fingers into her, pumping them in and out of her tightness, her head fell back against the hood as she arched herself off the metal. She was so close, too close, plagued with the wish that this moment and feeling would last forever.

“Feels so good Spence’,” she cried, slurring his name, eyes squeezed shut, her breaths falling short. 

Though just as she wanted to let go, he stopped, smirking at her with the special glint in his eyes. He was toying with her, using her body for his pleasure. Watching her beg for him turned him into a touch-starved, hungry man.

“I will fuck you so good, you won’t remember your own name,” Spencer moaned. 

His words sounded more like a command than a promise, cock ready to rip her in half, to fuck her till she’d cry heavy tears of pleasure. 

Her lips met his in a rather passionate way, tongues fighting, teasing one another, distracting her from the feeling of his cock pressed against her entrance. As their bodies connected in the most intimate way possible, she called out his name, pulling him close, holding onto him for dear life.

Spencer kept his gaze focused on her heat, watching his length split her in half, glistening with her arousal clinging to his skin. She was losing herself in waves of pleasures, slowly forgetting about the world outside, only caring about their love and the pleasure that ran through their bodies.

His pace was ruthless, bruising, keeping her lungs from letting any air flood through them. She was too distracted by the feeling of his cock buried deep inside of her. Sounds of praises left them both as they felt themselves climbing higher and higher, ready to reach their peaks.

“I’m so close.” 

Her words didn’t get a reply. He was focused on making her cum, adding more pressure to the speed of his thrusts as her body moved against the hood. Sweat dripped down her skin, pooling on the small of (y/n)’s back. Their lips connected once again all while she tumbled over the edge, fingernails piercing into his shoulders, as she cried out his name.

The way she looked - sweaty, hair in tangles, makeup smudged - pushed him into the arms of his own orgasm. His release spilled out of him, painting her walls white, claiming (y/n) as his.

She laid her head down and let her body collapse onto the hood of the car as he bent himself over her to rest. Forehead to forehead, they gazed into each other’s eyes as they struggled to catch their breaths. They both shared sloppy, quick kisses and murmurs of “I love you’s” as they laughed breathlessly together in the afterglow.

Spencer pushed himself off the car and straightened his pants again before handing her the boxers she’d stolen. She hopped off the hood and redressed herself as they heard nearing footsteps.

”Hey, pretty boy,” Derek chanted, announcing himself before he walked through the wide open door of the garage.

(Y/n) covered her mouth to hide her wide smile, admired Spencer as he struggled to keep himself composed. 

“Hey, Derek, thanks for coming,” Spencer answered, still struggling to breathe evenly.

“(Y/n), you can go back to bed and rest easy little girl,” Derek laughed. “I’m here now, I’ll take care of you.”

Derek’s taunt was entirely directed at the difficulties Spencer faced with fixing her car, but she couldn’t let the moment pass.

She smiled brightly in Derek’s direction as she walked past him on her way out of the garage, “Oh, Dr. Reid has already taken care of me, Derek. Don’t you worry.”

(Y/n) heard Spencer laugh as she sauntered off. She imagined the look on Derek’s face as the realization hit, but she didn’t look back to see it.

“Pretty boy!” Derek yelled in surprise.

She basked in the sound of Spencer’s laughter.

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