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aenaxes · 4 years ago

Text

lo-fi

[crosshair & tbb x afab/f!reader] it's been a tough campaign, so you and crosshair decide that the boys in the field can listen in, as a treat.

warnings: unprotected vaginal sex, consensual exhibitionism/voyeurism, polyamory, improper use of comms, crosshair being snide

w/c: 3.9k

a/n: phone sex? broke. comm sex? woke. rip @ u when the rest of the boys get back to the ship :/ (ps: thank u for 130! big mwah)

“Area’s been cleared. No sign of any seppies here,” Hunter’s weary voice wakes you with a start, crackling over your comm as you lift your head off the familiar height of Crosshair’s shoulder. “We’ll set up camp and head back at first light.”

“Better use the ‘fresher when you get back; you’ll stink up the whole ship,” Crosshair drawls back from beside you and evades you with an easy grin as you sleepily jab at his side.

Mean, you mouth at him with a frown, and the sniper simply shrugs back.

“We’ll see you soon. Love you all, y/n over,” you say, leaning over into Crosshair’s comm.

You receive a slightly disoriented chorus of ‘love you, too’s and ‘love you, cyar’ika’s from the brothers in the field, all blended together over frequency static and the sheer exhaustion of four rotations trekking through the marshy Balnab underbrush. Luck on your side, as navigator, you had escaped the dreary fate of noxious swamp gas and heat rashes in the unlikely case that the boys might need a quick exit.

But luckier still, Crosshair had stayed behind with you, citing your very real lack of combat training as grounds to have at least one of the brothers stay behind and stand guard. After all, volunteer corps boot camps could only teach you so much. And donning that trademark grin that made you either want to kiss him senseless or smack him upside the head (depending on your mood), Crosshair had innocently claimed that if he couldn’t see through the gaseous atmosphere, how could he know where to aim, much less shoot?

(You use your karkin’ scope, shitwad, Echo had said with the sickliest smile possible, and even he couldn’t help but join in when you and the boys all erupted into uncontrollable laughter.)

Suffice to say, Crosshair had spent the last two days holed up in the Marauder with you, a couple games of gin rummy, and a few steep new favors owed to his brothers’ grumbling.

For all the cool circulating air and dehumidifier settings in the Marauder’s helm, with the viewport fogged by the greenish atmospheric haze and your only task to wait for either a distress or all-clear signal, the little card games had gotten predictable after the second day. You had been tempted, out of some combination of boredom and fantasy, to prompt a game of strip poker (though Crosshair’s various bits of armour would have given him the indubitable upper hand, even with his horrible poker face).

Tempted, not even tried. You were all too aware of the uneasy stress of the mission outside, that low-lying tension and anticipatory dread staving off any coy desire to take advantage of your time alone with Crosshair.

But now, with the all-clear signal loud and clear through the comms, there’s little holding your inhibitions back when Crosshair reaches up and ruffles your hair after you click off his comm. Regardless of how innocuous his touch may be, heat rushes to your cheeks as you lean into his palm.

“Needy,” Crosshair chuckles, quick to catch on to your preening under his hand.

“I’ve been so patient,” you exhale a grand sigh, your voice carrying the petulant playfulness that never fails to pull Crosshair into the chase. And based on the lopsided grin twisting over his lips, you’ve got him exactly where you want him. “Don’t tell me you aren’t feeling at least a little bit of the same.”

“You’re insatiable,” he snarks. But he’s already rising to his full stature and crowding you back against the nearest surface, his hands firm and insistent over your waist as the backs of your knees meet the cool holotable steel.

“Right,” you retort, lifting your chin and baring your neck to him when he dips his head low to kiss over your pulse. The first touch is always careful—it comes with the territory, sharpshooting, all calculated movements with little space for error—but Crosshair’s intentionality is no less desirous, mouthing over your skin as you feel one hand drag slow and heavy up from your waist to your neck. “I’m the needy one.”

“You’re the enabler,” Crosshair mumbles into your skin, and you can’t help the dreamy sigh that passes your lips when you feel his fingertips knead soft, slow motions over the base of your neck. “I’m just running with the punches.”

“Maker, you suck at talking sexy,” you laugh, brighter still when you feel Crosshair’s soft exhale over your skin as he stifles laughter of his own.

“Then let’s not,” he says and lifts his head to offer you a wry smile. Before you can humor any more dry banter, Crosshair pulls you flush against the hard lines of his chestplate, one hand curled over the base of your head and the other sliding around the small of your back, and swallows any words you had with his tongue.

Second nature, you lift your arms to curl over his shoulders and anchor him close.

Crosshair takes your invitation with ease, pressing his tongue over your lips before he gently shifts you up to seat you on the holotable edge and slots between your thighs. It doesn’t take the firm weight of his hand to have you rocking forward to meet him in a slow grind, and you lift one knee, hooking your calf over the hard edge of his thigh guard and pulling him closer still.

He pulls back, and you respond with a petulant whine, weakly tugging on his hip with your leg. Crosshair laughs, little but a soft huff, but one that has equal parts desire and frustration rising in your chest. Seeming to have caught on, Crosshair only leans forward enough to meet you with a chaste touch of his lips, but, desperate for more, you take the brief window of opportunity to reach up and tug his head to yours.

“Don’t be a fucking tease,” you mumble insistently, punctuating your request with a soft nip over Crosshair’s top lip. You gasp when you feel his gloved fingers grab, twisting your hair tight under his fist and tearing you from his lips.

“Don’t be fucking rude,” he snarks back, his brows raised in playful challenge. “You take what you get,” he snarls, his lips curled up in a sharp grin as he yanks your head to the side and he dips close. You feel his breath fan over your skin, a brief and heady warning before he crowds you close and drags his tongue from the edge of your jaw to the highest crest of your cheek.

Desire, sweet and cloying, curls over your spine as he steps back, leaving you in a dazed sort of stupor as you watch him make quick work of the plastoid secured over him. It takes you a moment to collect yourself, ready to launch a snide remark his way, but whatever you intended to say is far beyond coherent thought, let alone expression. He finally closes that small distance between you, presses the hard lines of muscle and sinew close between your thighs, and your head falls back against the cold tabletop as you sigh.

He’s overwhelming, intoxicating, and you can’t get enough.

It’s different between each of them. There is careful intention with Hunter, playful and boyish glee in Wrecker’s arms, the stern edge of authority when Echo presses you against the wall, Tech’s rosy warmth when he kisses you sweet. But Crosshair offers you the snide challenge, the push and pull of teasing one-upmanship when he shoots you a smug grin, pushes your thighs open, and spits onto your cunt.

“Probably didn’t need to do that,” he says a bit mildly as he brings two calloused fingers up against your cunt and gently parts your swollen sex. You might have mistaken his soft exhale as laughter when you clench down around achingly empty space, but you know better. As he lifts his hand to your lips and pushes your own arousal past your lips, watching you take his fingers deep and suck, you know better. (It’s awe.)

“Fuck off, and fuck me,” you moan around his fingers, gently nipping over his skin.

“Are you really in any position to be making demands?” Crosshair snorts and pushes his fingers down against the flat of your tongue. You bite his fingers a little harder in response, and vindictive justice crows over the haze of lust in your chest when he hisses through a grin.

“Oh, please. You want this more than I do,” you roll your eyes, crinkling your nose as he smears your own spit over your lips before he pulls away.

Catching the slight part in Crosshair’s lips, you ready another snide retort. There’s an art to foreplay with Crosshair’s cynicism. But any coherent thought promptly dies on your tongue when, instead of a snappy comeback, Crosshair kneads one hand tight over your hip, presses the blunt head of his cock up against your cunt, and pushes.

It doesn’t get old—you don’t suspect it ever will—the satisfying burn pooling warm in your gut when Crosshair anchors you to the holotable and stretches you open. For that one, long moment, the clever, biting banter you share has vanished, leaving only slow, hitching breaths and the cresting ache of want to fill its place. You don’t hold the same playful joy of victory over his head when you open your eyes to see him groan, too enraptured by your own pleasure, by the gorgeous picture he presents you, his brows furrowed and eyes fluttered shut, to poke fun at how he bows over the table edge and braces himself over you with a stuttering inhale.

You cry out with him when you finally feel him press as deep as he can, the trembling muscle of his thighs molded up against your skin. Crosshair dips low, close enough that you feel his every heaving inhale brush against your chest, and you only see love, love, love, raw and tender and so, so good when you look through your lashes and catch the warmth in his dark eyes.

That this was it, that you were as good as it would ever get.

“Ready?” he whispers, play hinting at the edges of his voice as he strokes his thumb over your hip.

“Is that even a question?” you giggle.

Silent discretion isn’t necessarily something you strive for, not since the boys heartily accepted your trembling confession that one just wasn’t enough. You’ve long since learned to dismiss any flare of bashful embarrassment that might have you clap your hand over your mouth when Echo pulled you into the nearest room or Wrecker decided that he couldn’t wait for the few quick steps between the armory and the bunk hall. But it’s obscene, the sound that bubbles up from your throat when Crosshair abruptly pulls out of your dripping cunt and shoves himself back in full.

Too high on the euphoria heavy and thick in your throat, you barely register the soft kiss he presses to the corner of your mouth before he rises up and begins fucking into you in earnest. Your eyes flutter open when you feel his rough fingertips dig into the junction of your thigh and hip, trailing low for a brief, uncertain moment before he finds your clit and presses firm over where you part around him. And when you strain your ears above the breathy whines spilling from your lips, when you squeeze down around him with a soft sob, you hear him gasping with you.

This was really as good as you would ever need it to get.

“Wait,” you laugh a bit breathlessly, squirming under his touch. “Wait, let’s call them.”

Crosshair fixes you with something like morbid intrigue, his gentle, firm movements over your clit falling still so he can offer you the unspoken question behind a quirked brow.

“The area’s clear; they’re tired; morale’s low, you know. I think it’d be fun,” you rationalize as a coy smile grows on your lips.

“Is this what you’ve been thinking about this entire campaign?” Crosshair finally asks. Despite the almost disinterested drawl in his voice, you both know it’s a weak cover for the mischievous delight at the prospect of teasing desire in front of his field-weary brothers.

“Maybe,” you breathe, breath hitching as he rolls his thumb over your clit.

“So vulgar,” Crosshair chuckles, rolling his eyes when you blow him a kiss and fall back onto the tabletop.

But he’s already reaching for his discarded commlink and shuffling it back on. He secures the plastoid snug over his forearm, and when he shifts forward to steady himself as the locks snap into place, he shifts up and presses firm against the spot in your cunt that has you arching off the holotable with a low whine.

“Save it for them, yeah?” Crosshair chuckles, and he presses for Tech’s comm.

“Crosshair?” Tech mumbles groggily, apparently having just awoken to Crosshair’s impromptu call.

“So good of you to answer,” Crosshair drawls into his bracer. As much as you’d like to sit back up and swat his audible smirk off of his lips, the snark dies on your tongue when he shifts forward hard, the firm lines of his hips connecting firm against your ass as you sink your teeth into your arm to stifle your sob.

“Is everything alright?” Tech asks through a yawn. And you would laugh at his sleepy obliviousness if you weren’t quite literally seeing stars, blinding iridescent comet trails across your field of vision, when Crosshair slips his free arm under your waist, secures you tight, and pushes his cock impossibly deeper into you. All you can do is bite down over your uniform sleeve and wonder if your high whine reaches the comm feed.

“Fine, really,” Crosshair says with a breezy flippancy that you don’t currently have the mental capacity to find irritating. “Mind telling the others to pick up?”

“Maker, this better be for a good reason,” Echo’s frequency crackles to life, albeit somewhat sourly. Following his voice, you register a hearty yawn from Wrecker’s line, and not a moment later, Hunter’s light quietly blinks on.

“Is y/n on?” Tech asks.

“Mm, she is,” Crosshair punctuates his words with another sharp thrust that has your toes curling in your boots as your legs jerk over his arms. The saccharine tenderness of earlier gives way to the smug tone you have grown to (begrudgingly) adore. “Come on, say hello.”

“H-Hi,” you whimper into your comm, trembling as Crosshair digs his fingers over the soft skin of your thigh and slowly pulls out of your cunt, just until the ridge of his cock catches on your stretched lips. This time, when he thrusts forward there is no measured, careful deliberation—only raw and rapidly unraveling need as he sheathes himself inside you with one smooth motion and crushes up against that soft spot inside you that has you sobbing over your comm.

If they hadn’t heard your soft, muffled noises before, they certainly have, now.

The collective feed goes quiet.

“Holy shit.”

And then all at once, it’s a staticky blend of voices when the realization finally sinks in and exhaustion has all but been forgotten for the night.

You hear Wrecker groan just above Hunter’s gasping, flushed “oh,” and you’re fairly certain you catch Echo and Tech synchronize a low, drawn “fuuuck” as you sigh. But Crosshair gives you little space to register the sudden and raucous desire over the channel when he cants his hips forward and fucks into you deep.

This may have been your idea in the beginning, but whatever control you thought you had has long gone as you scrabble for purchase over the cold holotable top. The teasing game, dangling the possibility of having in front of the boys in the field, is now simply a show out of your hands as you moan into your comm.

“How does she feel?” Wrecker asks, his voice breathy and low.

“So fuckin’ wet,” Crosshair laughs, angling another sharp thrust against the spot that makes you see stars.

You grip tighter to the edge of the holotable with a choked moan. There’s something so indescribably rousing to hearing them speak over you as if you aren’t even there, rutting desperately back against Crosshair’s hips as you sigh and moan into the commlink clutched over your wildly beating heart.

“Our poor little cyar’ika went four whole days without being touched—she’s dripping. Tell them how much you needed this,” Crosshair croons, a mocking sharpness curling at the edges of the gentle tone of his voice. “Tell them how much you need them.”

You tremble under him as his hips meet yours hard enough to knock the air from your lungs, unable to do more than whine as you feel him snake his arm up your chest and curl his fingers around your neck.

“I—I need you!” you manage, your words only soft sighs pulled from what little breath Crosshair affords you through a steady, devastating pace. “Maker, I miss you so much—!”

Eyes squeezed shut, you fight the urge to quell every noise that claws at your throat. As obscene as it makes you sound, your boys are nowhere near as close as Crosshair, able to do little else but close their eyes and dream of you through the modulated channel frequency alone. It’s the least you can do, you think, and you moan as Crosshair shifts his hips up hard.

“He makin’ you feel good, cyar’ika?” Hunter’s voice crackles over the channel. “Pretty baby, you feelin’ good?”

“Mmhm!” you whimper, nodding wildly as if they’re not camped out a few hundred klicks from the ship, as if they’re there, bearing witness as Crosshair pulls you apart with every insistent, heady motion he makes.

“You’re a big girl,” Crosshair sneers, digging his fingers into the soft skin of your waist as he fucks into you sharp enough it punches the breath from your lungs. “Use your words.”

“So—” Your voice wavers over a gasp. “Feels so good!”

“Attagirl,” you hear Echo groan.

You can’t imagine how much of a mess you must look, jaw slack and eyes rolled back into your head, drunk on nothing short of hedonistic joy in its purest form, legs jerking over Crosshair’s arms when he fucks a particularly deep thrust into your cunt. Maybe you’ll try a call over the holo next time.

“Close,” you whimper.

But as soon as the words leave your tongue, you realize your mistake, panic flooding in your throat when Crosshair raises his brows, a wicked grin on his lips, and simply. Stops.

“Are you, now?” Crosshair chuckles, and if you weren’t there, dangling at that precarious precipice, so, so close to the kind of pleasure that wracks through your body so hard you forget your own name, you might have slung some acerbic jumble of words his way. But you are there, twisting your hips for any sort of purchase while Crosshair offers you a knowing smile.

“I’m going to kill you,” you hiss, only to be cut short, your words swallowed by your wailing moan when Crosshair fucks into you, a shallow thrust that pushes you closer, closer to the aching pleasure just out of reach.

“Oh, that wasn’t nice, was it?” Crosshair taunts.

The boys murmur over the channel, all soft laughter while they imagine your flustered desperation, wishing it was them back on the ship, stuck to lookout duty, blessed with the cool air of the helm and your warm cunt fluttering around them.

“What do you say?” Crosshair laughs breathily into his comm, dragging one slow finger over your throbbing clit, firm enough that it sparks want through your chest but too light to do little more than tease. You sob under his touch. “Does our girl deserve to come?”

“Let’s ask her,” Echo rasps, and when you squeeze your eyes shut, your mouth waters at the hazy mental image of the eldest’s lidded gaze, his cock fisted heavy in his hand as he whispers into his comm. “You think you deserve it, cyare?”

“Please,” you gasp. It’s more than a simple response, rather, a plea for something, anything, that little bit of more to push you over the razor thin edge between teasing pleasure and release.

“Gotta answer the question, little one,” Wrecker chokes out past a straining chuckle.

“Maker, you know what I mean—!” you whie, shuddering at the jolt of pleasure that laces up your spine when Crosshair wraps his arm over your thigh and presses deeper than you thought possible.

“Answer it,” Tech breathes.

“Fuck—I deserve it!” you finally sob, and your thighs clench when you hear Hunter groan over the channel. “Maker, I deserve it!”

You’re not sure if it’s your own confession ringing in your ears or the sensation of Crosshair squeezing his hands over your waist that finally tips that delicate balance between your excruciating anticipation and release, stirring wild and devastating from low in your stomach as you arch off the holotable and scream. It crashes over you in an endlessly overwhelming wave, swallowing you whole in nothing but simple, luxuriant pleasure fizzling at your fingertips and blurring your vision with euphoric tears while Crosshair shudders, head hung low as you clench down around him.

“That’s it,” Wrecker croons. Somehow, you’re still able to catch his adoring praise over the frequency, your focus turned to the way Crosshair continues to coax your pleasure, drawing it long and desperate with what thin strands of composure remain.

A final, stuttering thrust, and Crosshair drapes himself over you, burying himself as deep as he can in your fluttering cunt and groaning softly as he fills you with warm, heavy spurts of come. All you can do is whine and pulse around him, losing yourself to the mercy of every passing sensation that sparks delirious pleasure up your spine.

“We’ll be back soon, sweet thing.”

You weakly turn your head to face the blinking comm light beside you, reduced to a blurry spot of red muddled by the lingering tears in your eyes. It’s a miracle you can hear Hunter’s voice over the dull buzz in your ears at all, but even through your exhaustion, his voice strikes want, warm and deep, through your core.

You mumble something unintelligible to your own ears in response, little more than a sign of life as Crosshair steps back and clicks off your comm.

“Quite the show,” Crosshair laughs softly, leaning close to curl his palm at your jaw and thumb at the tears beaded over your lashes. He presses his lips to your temple, and you bask under his touch. “Did such a good job, cyare.”

“When I can’t walk in two days,” you rasp through the dry itch in your throat from your (retrospectively) embarrassing show of being as loud as humanly possible over the comms. “I expect you all to take turns carrying me everywhere.”

Crosshair snorts, tapping the soft skin of your inner thigh to carefully drag his fingertips through the mess of come and slick smeared over your cunt. “Two days? It took them four to get out to the mark.”

And he’s right. The soft, fluvial wetland outside was far from conducive for fast travel, even with a clear mark and sharp navigation. But all things considered, you wouldn’t be surprised if the boys were packing up and leaving camp now, all for the chance to board and throw you onto the nearest bunk a few odd days faster.

“Four credits they’re leaving right now,” you laugh.

“Let’s make it four credits they’ll make it back in two,” Crosshair offers. He dips low and brushes his forehead close against yours, sharing soft laughter as you reach up to stroke over the back of his head.

They make it back in one.

#after two long weeks behold #anyways all the power to u in this fic #u got these boys runnin laps #crosshair x reader #the bad batch x reader #hunter x reader #wrecker x reader #echo x reader #tech x reader #yaej.writes

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fantasia-monogram · 3 years ago

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As the clock strikes midnight, part 2

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / epilogue

♥️ Taeyang x reader (nonbinary, female anatomy) x Jaeyoon; mentions of other SF9 members

♥️ NSFW (~1.7k words); a lot of sex talk and kink negotiation. Mentions of BDSM and kink. No one is 100% straight. Mentions of queerphobia.

♥️ You’re a beast at work, having to be tough to climb up the corporate ladder, but what you never thought of is that your attitude might be intimidating to your long time crush. Luckily, your much more laid back friend is here to help... both of you. Please read part 1 before this!

♥️ Disclaimer: this is just for fun! I’m not claiming that’s how they are in real life, it’s just my imagination doing whatever it wants. Read at your own discretion.

Your impromptu get-together had been going for over two hours already, and you’d loved every minute of it so far. Your motivation had been mostly spending some time with Taeyang away from the workplace, but you had to admit: your other companion’s intentions towards you weren’t clear either. You enjoyed the mystery of it all, even though it was the youngest of your trio that you had your eyes on ever since the training period started.

Well, the mystery would end there, or so you thought.

“I can’t believe I put myself in a drama-like setting, but,” Jaeyoon started, clearly down out of sudden, “That guy reviewing our results… What was his name? Inseong… I might have a bit of a crush on him.”

You stopped in the middle of bringing a cup to your lips, letting your hand holding the latte hang awkwardly in the air. With the corner of your eye, you could see Taeyang doing the same.

“Come on, don’t tell me that you’re…” Jaeyoon whined, shaking his head.

“No, hear me out,” you interrupted. Before you spoke again, you cautiously looked left and right to make sure no one else was listening. Only then, you continued with a hushed voice. “You know, it drives me crazy whenever they call me a she in those international reports. I’m non-binary, I prefer neutral pronouns. I don’t really have to worry about it on a daily basis, until English rolls in and makes me cringe.”

Your friend leaned closer to you.

“Not like I didn’t notice,” he concluded. A wide grin was back on his face. “Do you like boys, though?”

You could tell he was just joking, given his usual flirty attitude, and you didn’t have to answer at all. However, since you started confessing already, you figured you could take it seriously.

“I do, actually!” You nodded, smiling lightly.

You couldn’t believe you could talk about it openly like that.

“Oh, I don’t discriminate, I fuck everybody,” Jaeyoon replied in a seemingly playful tone, although being serious as well, “But right now? My heart belongs to the Quality Department leader.” He finished with a hand on his chest.

You both laughed wholeheartedly, until you noticed Taeyang was silent this entire time. Jaeyoon turned his eyes towards him, with you following shortly.

“What about you?” Jaeyoon asked boldly.

A look of slight panic flashed through Taeyang’s face, and you’d think it’s adorable if not for the crushing possibility of him having objections towards who you were - now that he knew, it could have changed anything.

You really didn’t want to have your heart broken after mere four weeks since starting a new job.

“I… I like g…” Taeyang stuttered, his gaze briefly catching yours. He held tight onto his cup of coffee and looked away, blushing profusely. “People with vaginas.”

“No way!” Jaeyoon exclaimed. Fortunately, he remembered the topic of your conversation and immediately toned it back down. “I’m sorry, I’d have never clocked you as straight.”

“Hey, stop it!” You smacked his bicep, earning an exaggerated wince from him.

Taeyang rolled his eyes and sighed deeply.

“It’s fine,” he stated, putting on a regretful expression. “I get that a lot. I tried everything, but that’s my final verdict for now.”

Jaeyoon kept making inappropriate jokes despite your earlier protest, but you would be lying if you said you were listening to him. Your eyes were glued on Taeyang, even though he was way too busy deflecting your other friend’s silly remarks to pay attention to you.

It wasn't the first time Jaeyoon and Taeyang have visited your place; they've been there numerous times before, together and separately.

It was the first time, however, when they entered the apartment with all three of you feeling equally horny and not even trying to hide it.

It couldn't have been caused by the alcohol, because you haven't had any, Taeyang only had a couple sugary drinks, and Jaeyoon got completely sober as soon as the words fun night were mentioned. Nothing had been explicitly stated, but all of you - always having been open not just about your sexual identity and orientation, but also your specific attitudes towards sex in general - have reached an unspoken agreement: everyone was getting off tonight, this way or another.

You quickly decided to take turns using the bathroom. When it was Jaeyoon's turn to shower, you were left alone with Taeyang. It was a bit awkward at first, considering his confession from earlier that you barely replied to. As soon as he sat on a sofa in the living room - smelling clean, fresh glow on his face - you took a place beside him, wearing your black satin pajamas already.

Taeyang leaned back and smiled at you blissfully. Only then, he took your hand in his; after holding it for a good minute, he intertwined your fingers.

"I'm so happy," he whispered.

You really wished to answer in a coherent way, yet you couldn't possibly focus enough to be your usual, collected self - not when you finally had your long-time crush next to you, shirtless, lightly toned muscles and sharp outline of ribs on display.

Maybe you didn't want to shock him by showing this side of yourself so easily, but it was impossible at this point; your prettiest, prettiest boy was here, looking at you as if you were the most precious thing in the entire universe, making your heart swell with love and desire just by that.

Not used to being so overwhelmed with emotions, you just stared back at him wide-eyed.

"Sheesh, don't tell me you started without me!"

Jaeyoon appeared in the doorway, hair still wet and adorably curled without usual styling - a contrast to his impressive physique in nearly full glory since he, as opposed to the more reserved Taeyang, decided to step out of the bathroom wearing only boxer briefs.

It's not like you hadn't seen him like this before, as you'd go to the pool together many times over the past few years (Taeyang always refused the invitation, even though he claimed to be a pro at swimming and even bragged about gold and silver medals he won in national competitions during high school). Yet somehow, this time, the sight hit differently, since you knew what was about to happen.

"No way," you chuckled; Taeyang let go of your hand, which made your mood deflate a little. "Mind if we eat something first?"

Everyone was starving after the boring company party, so you all moved to the kitchen. You couldn't hide your amusement over how the apartment looked like a dollhouse when trying to contain not just you, but also two grown men. You gave up on relationships ages ago, so when looking for a place to rent, you had only your own comfort in mind.

"Okay, first of all," you started when everyone was finished with their meal, "Are we all safe? While I was still in the dating game, I was always monogamous and did regular checkups. I haven't had any partners for the past four years."

You cringed internally saying it out loud, but transparency was your number one priority.

"I never do anything without a condom," Jaeyoon stated.

As usual, Taeyang took a while before taking part in risky conversations.

"I do BDSM, but it hardly ever involved actual sex."

"I can confirm that." Jaeyoon smiled smugly, propping his chin on his hand.

Your eyes went comically wide at the implication.

"Wait, what did I miss?! I thought you liked, in your words, people with vaginas?" You gasped, blood rushing to your cheeks.

Taeyang's face turned equally red, except he decided to cover it with his hand.

"Y/n, dear, he said that three and a half years ago," your friend explained.

"Jaeyoon hyung had his part in my awakening as a submissive," Taeyang added, finally daring to look at you, "There was nothing sexual about it."

"Except for the fact I watched you jerk off," the hyung in question clarified.

"HEY!" The other guy got flushed again.

You swallowed heavily, feeling your throat get dry all of sudden. Oh my God. You could barely sit still at this point.

"We both like to watch," Jaeyoon concluded casually.

"So… Wait a minute," you picked up, your head spinning from the information overload, "If I understand it correctly: Taeyang, you're a sub. Jaeyoon, we're both Doms."

The guys nodded in unison.

"We're all into voyeurism."

Again, they confirmed with a single nod.

"I can't believe. This is too good to be true," you said weakly, shaking your head with disbelief.

"I have an idea," the older of your colleagues continued, "I don't wanna get too much inbetween you two."

Suddenly, Taeyang squeezed your hand under the table in a way that was borderline possessive.

"But since it's supposed to be enjoyable for all of us… I could get a bit touchy with Y/n… I suppose watching us would be enough to get Taeyangie ready, am I right?"

Taeyang looked to the side, his expression serious, but his body language unable to hide the excitement.

"Humiliate me a little and I'll be fine," he muttered under his breath.

He squeezed your hand even harder. You smiled at the feeling.

"I have one request for you," you turned to Jaeyoon, "No kissing on the lips, no hands in each other's underwear."

"I'm okay with that," he shrugged.

"You sure?" Taeyang asked.

"No worries, just focus on yourself," the older guy chuckled, "I'll take care of myself while watching you two have fun."

Was it happening for real? You felt like you were dreaming.

Taeyang brought you back to reality by bringing your linked hands to rest on his thigh.

"Do we… go all the way?" He inquired in a shy tone.

You took your time to inhale and exhale deeply before collecting yourself enough to answer.

"Yeah, we do."

(to be continued)

#sf9 imagine #sf9 scenario #sf9 smut #sf9 headcanon #yoo taeyang imagine #yoo taeyang scenario #yoo taeyang x reader #yoo taeyang smut #As the clock strikes midnight

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oatmilkslytherin · 4 years ago

Text

what the stars know (d.malfoy)

description: fem!reader and draco have been dating since their fifth year at hogwarts, but were unexpectedly torn about after the battle of hogwarts. the two lovers have spent nearly a year apart now, and all draco can do is wish on the stars that she’ll come back

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

warnings: none just FLUFFY

requested: yes / no

taglist: @jud3cardan @potatothingsz

a/n: kinda sad but super fluffy draco imagine because i simp for this man on the daily

draco’s pov:

181 days ago, the school i called home was attacked and disintegrated into nothing more than rubble and ruins. 181 days ago, i watched the people i grew up with lose their lives and wills to live as my family members wreaked havoc on the school grounds. 181 days ago, the love of my life was ripped from my arms, and i could only sit here 4,344 hours later and blame myself for not holding onto her tight enough.

it felt close to pointless holding on so tight to someone who probably hated the sound of my very name. she never knew i was a death eater, she never could. i cared for her safety much more than my own, even now, even 181 days later. part of me wished for her return back into my arms; i wanted nothing more than to have her in my arms when the lonely nights left me with nothing but cold sheets and a pang in my heart.

after the war ended and both my mother and father were pardoned from being sent to azkaban, they decided it was best for me to live on my own to avoid the rather traumatic restraints the manor enveloped me in. luckily for me, blaise and pansy were also looking for a place to live in attempt to forget the memories of our young adulthood at hogwarts.

now, we resided in a lonesome house close to the sea that was much too large for the three of us. we made it work between us, but most often i would retreat to my bedroom before and after meals, only ever coming out for small talk with the two of them.

although they didn’t bring up the situation, i could tell they were concerned about me. i looked almost worse than i did when i was fixing up the vanishing cabinet in the room of requirement. they never questioned my well-being, however, as it usually just ended up with me storming off mid-conversation back to the haven of my bedroom. while i appreciated their company, it meant little to nothing anymore when i was just dwelling in my world without her.

the world was rather lonely without her. most nights, i would sit at my bedroom window staring at the speckled stars in the night sky thinking of her. as absolutely dreadful as it sounds, the night sky reminded me of her eyes. they always had a sort of sparkle in them when she caught a glimpse of me. merlin, i thought about her eyes every night.

some nights, i would even pick my favorite star in the sea of light and wish for her. mother used to tell me when i was younger that if you wish on the brightest star in the night sky, your wish would come true. i have never believed in a ball of dust and matter more until i was without her; i desperately hoped that one day, the star would hear me and allow my wish to come true.

this night was much like the others.

i sat just below the window of my bedroom, the curtain blinds swaying lightly in the fall breeze and the sounds of waves crashing filling my ears. i leaned with my elbow on my knee, my hand propping my chin up as my eyes darted from star to star in search of the brightest one in the vastness.

at last, my eyes landed upon the biggest, brightest star in the night sky as it pulsed rapidly against its black background. i sighed outwardly in attempt to soothe my rapid breathing and sore heart before letting my eyes flutter shut.

i could only manage to choke out a small “please” to the star as thoughts of her flooded my mind. i thought of her in our first moments, and i reminisced on her in our final ones. i thought of when we first met in our first year, how pure and innocent she looked when we were eleven; the way her y/h/c hair framed her smiling face as she sat next to me in the dining hall post-sorting. i thought of her laugh and her wide smile when she spotted me in our first class of the day. i thought of the way her eyes widened when i first told her i liked her. i thought of her reddened cheeks the first time i kissed her when we were only 15. i thought of every gift she gave me for our anniversaries, all accompanied with a heartfelt, handwritten note about something beautiful and poetic. i thought of the tears in her eyes when i followed my mother out of the hogwarts grounds.

tears leaked from the corners of my eyes as i thought about every moment i had with her, and how many more i would have if i chose to stay. i cursed myself for leaving without saying goodbye, without kissing her one last time, without telling her how much i love her.

“please. please bring her back,” i whispered to the star with my eyes still closed and tears falling freely from my closed eyelids. for a moment, i swore i could hear her laughter again.

the next morning, i awoke to a beam of sunlight dancing upon my pale features. i squinted as i attempted to pry my eyes open, my hand coming up to shield my eyes from the burning daylight. i groaned outwardly from the rude awakening, turning over in my cold sheets to face the small clock that resided on my nightstand. 8:08.

i haphazardly shoved the sheets off of my body, shivering as the cold replaced the warmth of the spread. there was no use in trying to go back to sleep now, i would only be tossing and turning for another hour.

i shrugged an old sweater over my body before padding over to my bedroom door, yanking it open with no regard for my sleeping roommates. as soon as i opened the door however, i was met with faint high-pitched chattering from what sounded like the kitchen. i furrowed my eyebrows, wondering why in the world blaise and pansy were up so early; they were most definitely not morning people in the slightest.

i trudged down the stairs towards the kitchen, running my hands over my face and through my hair in attempt to rub the sleep out of my eyes.

i swung the door to the kitchen open, padding inside and towards the cupboards for a mug.

“morning,” i muttered to blaise and pansy, not bothering to look up at them. i grabbed a mug from the shelf, beginning to fill it with water already boiled from the kettle when i heard pansy let out a small laugh. i furrowed my brows once more, wondering why her attitude was so chipper for it being 8 in the morning.

“what’s got you in such a good mood?” i asked with a tinge of annoyance in my voice, my eyes still trained on my mug and the tea bag that now resided in it.

“if you used your eyes for once, draco, maybe it would put you in a good mood as well,” pansy stated cooly, soft laughter still spilling from her lips. i snapped my head towards her, ready to go off on her for her remark and attitude before my heart nearly stopped.

there she was. sitting with a mug in her hands at my kitchen table, a soft smile spread across her features with her eyes crinkled in suppressed laughter. i blinked rapidly a few times, wondering if this was all some vile, desired-filled dream, or if she was really there. really, really there.

she stood up from the chair, pacing over to me with a wide smile and bright, slightly teary eyes. i couldn’t bring myself to move, i felt frozen in place with pure shock as she stood before me. my heart raced rapidly, my mouth going dry as my mind scratched for something, anything to say.

“hi, draco,” she spoke, a single tear falling from her eyes as she smiled up at me. my mind faltered on any coherent sentence as i took in her presence. her hair was longer than it was when i last saw her, and the wounds she sustained from the battle were long gone. she looked just as beautiful as i remembered, even more beautiful if it was possible.

i suddenly remembered my ability to move, and my arms immediately wound around her, nearly toppling her over with my embrace. she giggled in my arms, letting her small frame envelop into mine as she wrapped her arms around my torso, resting her head against my chest.

a few tears slipped from my eyes as i pulled her closer into me, feeling entirely overwhelmed from the situation.

“merlin, y/n. i thought i’d never see you again,” i muttered against her hair, squeezing her so tight i was fearful that i was going to crush her. i couldn’t help myself; after 181 days without the love of my life, i couldn’t bare the thought of letting her go again. i felt her smile against my chest as she rubbed soft, soothing circles in the small of my back.

“i’d always come back to you dray. always,” she whispered, tilting her head up towards mine. i softened my tight grip on her, staring down at her with both of our ears teary but wide smiles plastered on both of our faces.

i leaned down towards her, locking our lips in a soft, but desperate kiss. our lips met in a salty, smiling mess as i melted entirely into her. for the first time in 6 months, i felt whole again.

i pulled away from her slightly, my eyes not daring to leave hers. i brushed a few strands of her long hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear as i gently ran my fingertips across her soft features.

i tore my eyes away from hers for only a moment only to eye blaise and pansy who were still seated at the table, smiles grazing their features. it had been such a long time since any of us have smiled like this; of course, y/n was the only one who could bring light like this out of any of us.

“did you guys do this?” i asked, my smile unfaltering as i glanced between my two friends.

“took a bloody long time, but we were able to track her down. she’s a sly one,” pansy stated, a smile lingering on her own face. i couldn’t help but feel my heart swell at the thought of my friends doing something so grand for me.

“don’t i know it,” i teased, pressing another kiss to the top of y/n’s head. she smiled lovingly up at me, unable to hold back a soft giggle that escaped her lips.

y/n’s head rested on my chest as i wrapped her in my arms, our backs pressed into the soft warm sheets as she traced circled onto the fabric of my shirt. a song played softly from the radio on the table, y/n softly humming along as i ran my fingers through her hair.

“i asked the stars every night to bring you back. after a while, i thought they stopped listening,” i admitted softly to her. y/n shifted her body, tilting her head up to look at me with a soft smile glazing her features. oh, how i missed her smile.

“funnily enough, i asked the stars for the same thing. seems like they were listening after all.” she leaned up to press a soft kiss to my cheek, her lips lingering for a moment before she buried her head in the crook of my neck. i relished in her soft exhales and warm breath that fluttered across the skin of my neck.

funny what the stars know, i suppose.

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btssunnyboy · 4 years ago

Text

— Infatuated Desires — Yandere! Actor Kim Taehyung

He was only supposed to play a psycho on a movie, what happens when he personally starts to develop the same intentions as his character?

Word Count - 5,063

Warning - Yandere behaviors, stalking, profanity, unwanted kiss on the forehead, murder, a picture of said body is shown to your character as well. Blood and gore.

BTS , NCT , ATEEZ , Reqest Open.

__________________________________________

You’d think with the countless times Kim Taehyung has played a love interest, he’d be able to focus his emotions on one thing at a time. But obviously that statistic couldn’t be more wrong. He’s never truly felt that tug in his heart for someone, that little bit of excitement that should ignite within him whenever that someone is around. No matter how much he tries nothing, not a single spark, comes from his pity attempts at love. It was honestly embarrassing, seeing as the public eyes have noticed him with many potential people, but it always ends up in disaster as he somehow can’t figure out his feelings for them. Although it’s been over a few dozen tries, if it hasn’t worked out by now is it ever going to?

Rose, his manger, has done countless things to try and boost his “love” appeal, if you could even call it that. Despite his very open and caring characters on screen his true persona could not be more different. He’s very much a keep to himself type of person, making sure his voice is in the background of conversation, so that it doesn’t draw unnecessary attention towards him. Also making sure that each and every encounter is as simple as one, two, three. After all, why does he need a real life love interest so much, how could he ever benefit from that?

“Will you at least look over the script! For once it’s a thriller type of romance!” Rose tried to persuade her client to at least take a glimpse of the script. And she wasn’t wrong about it being a thriller type of romance, the only thing she left out was the fact it was a horror, thrill romance. But seeing the way that Taehyung could pull off a loving husband one minute into a mere hermit crab the next. His range is impeccable, he’d definitely be able to pull off the psycho that they need on the big screen. Once more Rose’s eyes settled on the uneasy man, as she tried to maneuver the thick script into his grasp. “I’m begging you to at least look at it.”

A heavy huff of air passed through his lips as he begrudgingly took the script. The name, Infatuated Desire, printed in bold lettering across the top of the page. From the title alone he could already piece together the type of movie this was going to be, and it certainly wasn’t anything he’s dabbled into before. A psycho fuckboy type of character who becomes obsessed with someone that was the apple of his eye all along. Taehyung cleared his throat loudly, as he spoke his question, “So basically I’d be playing a dumbass college boy who can’t keep it in pants because he wants someone to notice him?”

“I mean kinda, but he gets more evil and manipulative as the story goes on! He tricks the character, Rue, by acting like he doesn’t give too shits about her, but he does change in the middle of the movie!” Rose exclaimed as she tapped her fingers against her cheek. This could actually be a learning experience for him, seeing a new side of himself on screen might break him out of his secure shell. The shift of his eyebrow was making a pit form in the depths of her stomach, his quietness was a tell tale sign of his discomfort. And right now he doesn’t seem too happy with the events that are taking place. “Would showing you a picture of your co - star make things any better?”

Her question seemed to go in one ear and out the other. A bland expression stayed glued to his face, as his eyes raked over the words on the paper, then to meet Rose’s small stare. He rolled his eyes playfully as he gestured towards the gold phone laying a inch away from her. A small squeak of excitement exuded from her as she quickly typed away on the glass screen. Those long acrylic nails made a pleasant sound as they tapped a rhythm on the phone. A playful chuckle passed through his lips, and he started to joke, “Any day now.”

“This is the beautiful co-star named Y/n L/n! And I know she doesn’t look familiar because this is actually going to be her break up movie!” He tried to focus on the excitement that laced her voice, but he couldn’t. Surprisingly, right now the only thing he could focus on was you. Well, the picture of you that adored his agent’s phone. There wasn’t anything special or out of the ordinary about this picture, it was simply you in an old coffee shop, and yet you looked ethereal. The way the old lights made your eyes shimmer, and your dazzling smile made his heart fill with an unfamiliar type of emotions. For lack of better words, he was stunned by all the beauty that was taking place in this photo.

“Oh, I didn’t expect that.” His reply was quick, as he knew he was already taking too long to respond. But he can’t seem to string together a coherent sentence that truly captures the beauty within that small screen. Maybe working in a new role won’t be so bad, but he just hopes your personality is as nice as your looks. If they are then maybe, just maybe he’ll actually try to socialize a bit better with this co-star.

“See, I told you this would be a great deal! And I met her when I was picking up the script, and she's as sweet as they get! Maybe you two will become friends! So are you gonna do the movie?” Rose exclaimed as she clutched his hands excitedly, and watched as Taehyung’s face remained bland. A small groan of annoyance bubbled in her throat, as he stayed silent.

“And she is definitely going to be in the movie with me?” Taehyung questioned once more, as his free fingers delicately traced the spine of the script. Refusing to give Rose the victory of meeting her eyes, they stayed trained on that stupid script. But, nonetheless a special script that somehow brought someone like you into his life, and he was going to make sure to keep you in it.

“Absolutely, honey! Now it’s getting late, get some sleep and you two will officially meet tomorrow!” Rose gushed while packing her bag. A bright smile taking over her face, as she mentally got excited about the two of you meeting. She saw exactly how his eyes lit up when he first saw your picture, maybe you’re the key to help him over his shyness when he’s off camera. “I’ll see you tomorrow for rehearsal!”

Taehyung bid her a quick goodnight as he whipped out his phone. Typing in your username as fast as the speed of light, he needed to see your face again. The mere sight of it calming him down within an instant, and he cherished that feeling. Being so well known and having eyes constantly on you could be overwhelming sometimes. That smile on that cute face of yours was more than enough to set his mind at ease, and he just wishes that he could see it in person sooner than tomorrow. For the first time in a long time Taehyung was actually able to fall asleep with a peaceful image on his mind.

_______________________________________

Rose immediately noticed the pep in Taehyung’s step the next morning. A smile that was brighter than his usual one, and she loved to see it. She loved seeing him genuinely happy for once, and right now she’d do anything to keep that smile on his face. A soft hand was rubbing comforting circles on his back when they first entered the table read. Everyone’s eyes snapped towards new entering people, bright smiles coming to their faces as they noticed a familiar set of people

“I’m so glad you were convinced to take the role, Mr. Kim! If you would please take a seat next to Ms. L/n and we’ll go over the plot and start shooting soon!” The director spoke happily as he gestured towards the open seat. Taehyung’s eyes fell onto the brown cushion that was placed within the seat itself. A little hesitation was noticeable in his walk. He didn’t want to overstep any boundaries by sitting too close or anything and the last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable in any way.

“You can sit, I promise I don’t bite.” You teased light heartedly as you patted the seat next to you. A quirked eyebrow in his direction almost like a sign telling him to hurry it up. And his heart quickened in pace, he was terrified that his shirt was moving in the same rhythmic pattern. He didn’t want to appear weird if you noticed just how anxious he got from meeting you. Without wasting another second he hastily planted himself in the seat beside yours. “I’m, Y/n, but you probably knew that already! But...um I’m really excited to work with you.”

Once more his heart started beating rapidly at the sound of your voice. It was like music to his ear, and he could listen to it on repeat for days. He thought of how sweet you seemed online, and how cute you were in your photos, but now he’s even more astonished about the beauty you hold in real life. Everything is enhanced, from the way your eyes are shining in the office light, to the small laugh lines you have surrounding your mouth. Oh, the list could go on and on, and he’d gladly sit down and list off everything he finds amazing about you. And it’s only been a few minutes. Soon he noticed your head tilt in worry at the fact he hasn’t spoken yet, and he mentally scolded himself for having the audacity to leave you with no response. “Oh, yeah! I’m quite excited to work with you as well. I hear this is your first first film, and I hope it launches your career.”

“Thank you so much, that truly means a lot coming from you.” You whispered, as you tried to shake his hand in a professional manner. And he felt his body shut down when your skin came into contact with his. The soft sensation paired with that honey voice was driving him crazy. Almost like it made him malfunction and it was starting to take a toll on him. Why were you so different, he’s had flings in the past, but right now he doesn’t want a fling. For some reason why he wants things to work, he wants this five second professional meeting to turn into a five year relationship. All of these thoughts were racing through his mind, and it was starting to worry him about how quickly he became attached. Usually it’s the other way around.

“I presume we’re okay with heading into shooting now?” The director questioned as he looked at yours and Taehyung’s agent. Seeing both of them shake their heads, the crew knew it was game time. They were ready to make this horror romance a hit on the big screen. “Let’s make some magic, shall we!”

Everyone scattered in the direction of the director. All of them panicking to get the extras into place, and make sure the two stars of the move are front and center. Your hastily steps were no match for Taehyung’s as he easily caught up with them. “I hope you don’t mind me tagging along. I just think it might be good to get some friendly conversation in before shooting.”

His voice was soft spoken, and that was one thing you liked about him. He never rushed his words or tried to make a big deal with his presence. Either you noticed him at that moment or he faded into the shadows, no in between. Before he got a chance to leave you jumped on the opportunity to bother him. “I don’t mind at all, in fact I think it would be best if we got to know each other.”

“Me too, if you don’t mind me asking why did you pick a movie like this for your start up career?” He inquired as he kept a small pace with you. As well as trying to keep a good distance between each other as well. Even though it might be a little hard considering the feelings that are taking over his body right now. The temptation to pull your body close, and feel those soft lips against his was growing. But you only just met, and somehow he feels like he’s known you a lifetime already.

“To be honest with you, my agent saw a horror type movie and just jumped on the deal without giving it much thought afterwards. He said something about showing everyone I can play a serious role right from the start, that's why they won’t see it coming if I’m doing something different.” You admitted, while fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt. His eyes never left your shy figure as you tried to avoid eye contact with him. But why were you trying to avoid it, he genuinely liked talking to you already, and the sound of your sweet voice was still like music to his ears. For some reason his mind latched onto the word he in your sentence, and it made a pit form in his stomach, and his hands clutched tightly together.

“Don’t be embarrassed by that, Rose, did the exact same thing and now look at me.” Taehyung tried a lame attempt at a joke, and shockingly you let out a little chuckle. Oh god, even you laugh was adorable. This was all new territory for Taehyung, usually he has to pretend to be interested in his co-stars, asking questions, and faking a shocked reaction. But you seem so genuine that faking anything is out of the question, he wants your everything. He wants to know what keeps you up at night, what’s your biggest fear, what’s your most devastating secret to this day.

“I just hope my career turns out as good as yours. You’re amazing, honestly.” You mused while giving him a small smile. Everything you’re doing is somehow making him fall deeper and deeper into your love spell. But truth be told, he doesn’t really mind. Without thinking he reached forwards and grasped your right hand, and didn’t break eye contact.

“I just know you’re going to be the most beautiful star, you have absolutely nothing to worry about.” His actions seemed innocent, like a friend that was trying to give a small pep talk to someone in need. But the way he was gripping your hand like his life depended on it, was a whole different story. A small jerk was delivered to his hand in an attempt to take away your hand, something about this interaction now, felt off. And you didn’t want to deal with that.

“Thank you, Taehyung, but we’re falling behind. We need to get situated for hair and makeup.” It was obvious that was an excuse to get away from his close behavior. His head tilted in confusion, why are you trying to get away from him? He’s trying to be vulnerable, he’s trying to show that he can be loving, goddamn it! With a slight nod of his head, you walked off in the direction of the makeup staff. If he doesn’t play his cards right then you might quit the movie before it’s even begun, and he definitely couldn’t have that. _______________________________________

Everything was fine at the start, like it was picture perfect. You as the bright eyes and bushy tail lead, paired with the ever soft, and shy co-star who looks like he wouldn’t hurt a fly. But obviously looks can be deceiving, because you never expected Kim Taehyung to act like this.

“Oh come on, Rue. He’s bad news I’m just trying to keep you from getting hurt.” Lucas, Taehyung's character tried to persuade your character into ditching a date last minute. His voice was stern as he followed along behind you, with his wide steps. A soft echo of his shoes hitting the pavement filled you ears.

“Oh, like you’re any better. You’re probably a walking STD, and besides at least Sam knows how to keep it in his pants.” You spat out harshly towards him, as you yanked your head in his direction. A small smirk came over his face, and the temptation to smack it right off was growing. With a few moments of silence you knew it was time to turn around and walk away, before you could even get a step away his large hand yanked forcefully at your forearm. “Lucas, let go. You’re hurting me.”

“Next time, princess, I’d think twice about mentioning another man's name when you’re in my presence. Now I strictly forbid that date to happen, and if you want to keep little Sam safe you better not go tonight.” Each word seemed like it was laced with pure venom. A sinister glint was sparkling in his eyes, and for some reason why you felt like this was much more than a character. This sensation felt too real for it to be a made up scenario. The way his hand was clutching your arm tight enough to leave bruises was worrying you, and he seemed genuinely upset about the fact you spoke another man's name.

“Lucas you’re scaring me, I mean it! Let me go and leave me the hell alone!” That was real panic laced in your voice as he got closer to your face. His warm breath lingering on the tip of your lips, and it was paralyzing you. The thought of him actually kissing you was sending you in a spiral. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

“I mean it, Rue. I will kill him, mark my words. If I ever see you within ten feet of that guy, I just want you to know his blood will be on your hands.” He seethed as he forcibly shoved your body to the side. A scowl written across his face as his shoulder collided with you for the last time. The small action made sheet panic shoot through your body.

“Cut! That was amazing, you two, really nice work. We’ve got enough footage for today! Pack it up and head home.”

You bid everyone a small goodbye as you gathered up all your things. Making sure to examine them, just to be clear that everything is the way it’s supposed to be. It might seem weird, but you still can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. Like someone’s eyes are always watching your every move. It was traumatizing just to think about. Even right now it felt like a shadow was following you right for the perfect time to strike.

“Hey! It’s just me! Calm down.” Felix ushered as he retracted his hand from your shoulder. The look of terror that crossed your face made panic shoot through him. He didn’t mean to scare you at all, in fact he was just trying to be friendly and ask if you wanted to grab a bite to eat. “I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I was just gonna ask if you wanted to go to dinner.”

A light laugh floated through the air, as you tried to regain your posture. You rubbed a hand over your face, and stared at your other co-star. “Of course, I would love to. And I’m really sorry about getting all jumpy, it’s just I keep feeling weird.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Felix asked with real concern as he started to take your bag. His eyes were trained on you as you started to speak. “Is this about Taehyung?”

At the mention of his name you felt eyes on you. The sinking feeling in your gut was growing, but you needed to get this off of your chest. “It’s just I know he’s playing the role in the movie, and I get that. His character is crazy, but it seems like he’s starting to act like it in real life.”

“Can I tell you something, but you have to promise to keep it to yourself.” Felix whispered as he placed his hand on your lower back, and tried to pull you a bit closer. Your head ducked down so both of your heads were positioned towards the ground. “I keep seeing him stalk your social media accounts on break, and every time you have a scene with another dude, he goes berserk. I heard him yelling at his agent about this too.”

The sudden pound of information made you stop dead in your tracks. You knew this wasn’t just a gut feeling, it was real. Those psychotic tendencies were starting to bleed into his real personality. If this keeps happening he might end up hurting someone, just like he does in the movie. Oh, god you never be able to live with yourself if you ever found out you’re the cause of someone’s demise. “Maybe we shouldn’t go to dinner together.”

“Y/n, I’m not scared of him if that’s what you’re worried about. I don’t care if he gets rough with me, because I really like you and I thought we could get to know each other better.” Felix relaxed his soft grip, and left his hand fall back to his side. A smile playing on his feature as he waited for you to give him a response.

“Are you sure about this?” You needed a real answer, because if anything does happen you’d never be able to live with yourself. Even if you did like Felix, Taehyung still made terror strike the the center of your heart. “I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

“You’re definitely worth the risk, Y/n.” Felix smiled as he gestured towards your hand. A small difference between him and Taehyung. On one hand Felix is soft, and gentle with his touches. Taehyung is forceful and a little bit rough. “So should we go?”

“Yes, lets go.”

_______________________________________

That exchange of words was absolutely disgusting. How dare that asshole plant fear into your heart. Looking at a social media page is fine, and he was only talking to Rose because he was worried about the other actors. They seemed like they were the type to take advantage of a sweet new comer, and he could not let that happen. You were so pure, not yet corrupted by this stupid dog eat dog industry. He just wanted you to stay that way forever. Right now the only thing on his mind was getting rid of the impure person that was planting seeds of terror within you.

Taehyung watched like a hawk as you two walked to the little diner down the street. Hand intertwined with one another, and he fought the urge to get out of hiding and attack now. But his original plan was much better, the element of surprise would surely get his message across. A message that stated all he had to do was stay away and he wouldn’t be involved in this predicament. When he finally knew you two were in the confinements of the diner he raced off towards Felix’s house. As soon as he picked the lock he welcomed himself into someone else’s safe space.

It was at least an hour before he heard Felix unlock the door. Taehyung was so lucky he lived walking distance away so no car was in sight at all. He stood directly behind the front door, as he waited for the perfect time to strike. The moment he had a clear view of Felix’s head he smacked the blunt end of the hammer on it. Making sure to put enough force behind it to knock him out. And out like a light he went. Pretty soon Taehyung propped Felix up in a chair, and duct taped his hands and feet to the chair.

“Come on, pretty boy wake up.” Taehyung taunted as he smacked the hammer against the wooden table. A fearful jerk from Felix made his heart swell with joy. He should be scared, because he decided to mess with someone and make it seem like Taehyung was the bad guy. On the contrary he was the good guy in this game, he was getting rid of the people who were out to harm you. “I’m guessing you understand what you’re in this mess.”

“You’re a sick bastard.” Felix spat at Taehyung's face. As he tried to wiggle his arm free of the multiple layers of duct tape that were wrapped tightly around his arms and legs. Before he could even finish another sentence a harsh blow of the hammer collided with his left knee. Searing hot pain shot through his body, while he physically felt the bones in legs start to crumple. “Why...are you doing this.”

Taehyung wanted to laugh at the state of misery he had put Felix in. The way fresh tears were cascading down his cheeks every few seconds, and deep breaths he was taking to calm himself down was just adding to the thrill of it all. “You know, you were never on my list of people I hated for this movie, because you kept your distance from her. That’s all you had to do, but you just had to go off and tell her all about the shit you’ve supposedly seen me do. You shouldn't have tried to take her away from me.”

“She’s scared of y-you.” The victim stuttered as they tried yet again to wiggle themselves free. A dark look overcame Taehyung's face at the mention of you. “You’re psychotic, she’s scared you’re gonna hurt her.”

“That’s a lie! You’re lying!” Taehyung bellowed as he raised the hammer in a fit of anger, and smashed it down on Felix's skull. Taking the forked in and out with rapid motions. He was lying! You can’t be scared of him, you’re not supposed to be scared of the good guys! And Taehyung’s a good fucking guy! “She’s not, she’s not scared of me! I know it!”

He took a step back to get the full picture of his work. The gaping hole in the side of his head was slowly leaking blood, and it was staining his blond hair. Then his eye was falling right out of the socket. The nerve ending being the only thing to hold the eye in place. After a brutal beat down the enemy is gone, and now you’re officially free and safe! Right now the only sound in the entire house was the clicking of his camera, he was going to prove he had gotten rid of all the bad guys. “Oh she’s going to be thrilled tomorrow!”

_______________________________________

Taehyung got to play the role of the grieving coworker once more. As they shared the heartbreaking news of the murder of Felix. For once he was fighting back a smile as he watched your body go numb. You were just in shock that the bad guy was finally away for good! Now was the perfect time to show you all of the evidence. His hand grasped yours, and yanked you into a nearby room. Your eyes widened in horror as you tried to fight back in his grasp, the last thing you wanted was those filthy hands to touch you.

“Please calm down! I’m not gonna hurt you, I just want to show you something!” Taehyung admitted as he struggled to pull up the picture on his phone. As soon as he did he placed the blinding screen in front of your eyes and forced you to look at the photo. The photo of Felix’s mangled body.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” Your words were muffled from his hand being placed around your mouth. Questions were racing through your mind, were you next, was the main one. Right now all you wanted to do was leave,run away, and never look back. “You sick freak! Let go of me! I’m calling the police!”

“Oh, dear. Good luck with that, haven’t you realized by now I’m a master of disguise! Besides do you really think they’re gonna believe you when you were the last one with him. You could have easily been in his house after you date.” Taehyung started as he held your body close, and let your head rest against his chest. Taking in the sweet scent of your shampoo. The lavender smell put him at ease.

“Taehyung! let me go!” You tried to thrash around once more. To no avail as he just tightened his grip around your body. Almost cutting off your air supply, but he soon pulled your body away from his. Cupping your face in his hands, as he wiped your cheeks softly. Making sure every last tear was gone from your perfect face.

“Don’t worry, baby! All the bad guys are gone, and if anyone else tries to get in my way, they’ll meet the same consequences.” He smiled as he placed a small kiss on your forehead. “And remember if you don’t want this to happen again you’ll stay by my side forever. Do you promise?”

With a shaky lip, you tried to muster up the courage to tell him off. Tell him he’s a psycho that deserves to rot in hell for crimes he’s committed. But right now he’s still a stronger competitor, and he’s right. Who would believe you over him. “I promise Taehyung.”

“Good, now that wasn't so hard was it! Keep this charade going, when we go back out there, if anybody asks you needed a shoulder to cry on. But if you mention this to anybody they will meet the same fate, sweetheart, and I love you so much.”

“I love you, Taehyung.” You sighed, because you had to play along. If you didn’t you knew someone else would meet the same grave that Felix did. As much as you hated this man, you needed it to seem like you were in love with him. Then when he least expects it you’re gonna make him pay for everything he’s done.

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supercalvin · 4 years ago

Note

I see your ficlets are open and I wanted to request more superhero!merlin . i didn't know i liked that until i read yours lol. preferably hurt/comfort because i love that too. also I just wanted to say your fics are amazing

I’m going to be honest @elizabethleestorms…I have no idea which superhero AU you mean, because I think I’ve written a couple, but that doesn’t matter, I’m delighted by this prompt. Sorry this took so long, thank you for waiting.

Really tried my hand at #whump and I ended up writing a very long ficlet again.

(Not intentional, I was writing this already before I heard about Chadwick Boseman. RIP to the King.)

Prompts + Ficlets

***

It had started small.

Merlin would use his magic to save an elderly couple from a mugging. A man about to fall onto the train tracks would find himself falling back onto the concrete. He would trip a bloke who was bothering a girl in the streets.

Magic was banned in Camelot and had been for over thirty years, and Merlin had grown up learning to hide his magic. Not even his closet friends knew. But when he started university in Citadel City, Merlin had felt an overwhelming need to use his magic. There were so many problems he could fix and so many people he could help.

So it started small and soon escalated into something a bit more complicated. He started going out at night, slipping on a mask to hide his identity, and saving people from whatever he could find. Most people thanked him and quickly ran off, freaked out by the sorcerer in a mask. But then word got around, gossip and whispers about the sorcerer who would swoop in at just the right moment. People would try to ask him who he was, so Merlin had to learn to teleport so he could get away from them.

Then he started to up his game. He would listen to the police scanners and seek out places he knew criminals loitered. He was becoming a bit of a legend. People had a lot of different names for him, up until a pack of wyverns attacked the city. That was the first time he had been spotted during the day and photographed. His blurry figure was all over the news for a week. It had been a hassle, but it had earned him a proper title. Dragon Lord.

It had been years since he had first started being ‘Dragon Lord.’ He had gotten into a routine. He worked at the police station during the day, gathered intel as a lowly administrative assistant, and then went out at night as ‘Dragon Lord.’ He was exhausted most days, with little sleep to spare, but he wouldn’t change it for the world. He was exercising his magic, helping people. and he had started a rather heated debate on the magic ban in Citadel City.

All was going well for Merlin.

Until his boss, DI Arthur Pendragon found out about his magic.

It had been an accident, of course. The only other person who knew about his magic besides his family was Deputy Lance DuLac, whom Merlin had saved from a fluke griffin attack back in his university days. Merlin had saved Arthur’s ass from a few operations-gone-wrong, but Arthur still didn’t know that his assistant and Dragon Lord were one and the same.

Until the night when Merlin had been out as ‘Dragon Lord’ having heard about an arms deal planned by Cenred Cain, an infamous crime boss. But apparently Arthur and his team had also been keeping an eye on Cenred, because they had stopped the deal before Merlin could interfere.

It was all a bit of blur. The adrenaline in his veins and the magic in the air making his memories fuzzy.

Dragon Lord and Arthur had been cornered as the building was about to come down, and although he was able to create a safety-bubble around them, the backlash burned part of Merlin’s disguise from his body and face. He woke up with a horrible headache and Arthur’s face hovering over him, looking equal parts horrified and furious.

After that night, Arthur hadn’t spoken to him about it. But to be fair, Arthur had not said much to Merlin at all. Arthur had sworn that he wasn’t about to arrest Merlin, but that didn’t mean they were friends. No, Arthur made it clear hat he was done with Merlin.

Merlin figured it was a fair deal. Merlin had saved Arthur’s life and in turn Arthur wouldn’t arrest Merlin for several acts of sorcery. It didn’t mean Merlin wasn’t heartbroken. He wished Arthur would understand that magic wasn’t evil and that Merlin just wanted to do good in the world.

So over the past week Merlin had not gotten much sleep, to say the least. After Arthur had found out, Merlin had trouble sleeping, which was never good because his night-and-day schedule. Then there was the fact that his magic had been exhausted after stopping a building from collapsing on top of him and Arthur. But that had never stopped him from going out. Crime didn’t stop just because Merlin was a bit tired.

So when a bulette attacked downtown Citadel City, Merlin was already off to a bad start. Bulettes were as large as cars and built like tanks with armor plating all over their bodies. They lived underground, and although the bulette was just minding its own business, it was causing buildings to sink into the ground and minor quakes to rock the city. So when Merlin had tried to gently coax it back out of Citadel City, it had only felt the need to defend itself.

Which meant it started attacking people.

Merlin would be the first to admit that he wasn’t at his peak power either. His magic was still tired from the week previous and his fight with Arthur had mentally drained him. He had coped by going out more at night, but that meant he had only accumulated a handful of hours of sleep over the last seven days.

It barely flinched at the enchanted spears Merlin threw at it. Moving the ground beneath it did little to stop it. Burning it only made it angry. His movements were slower, barely dodging it’s attacks. He made rookie mistakes by trying to attack the bulette’s armor in the first place. Normally he would be able to evaluate its attacks and predict its next movements, but his mind was moving too slow.

He was a wreck, to say the least.

Then the bulette used its thickly armored tail to slam Merlin into a nearby lorry, which rocked with the impact. Merlin remembered hearing the crunch of metal, but nothing until he woke up to someone shaking him.

“Dragon Lord, you have to get up! Please! Sir! Please! It’s coming back!” the voice sounded young and very frightened. Merlin opened his eyes to find a young kid, eyes burning gold as the boy tried to wake Merlin’s magic with his own.

Merlin gasped, his entire body aching as soon as he was conscious again. His vision spun in and out for a moment, and he felt overwhelmingly nauseous. Concussion, he thought dimly.

“You have to get out of here,” Merlin grunted as he tried to get up. His ribs were killing him.

The boy shook his head, “You’re hurt…”

Merlin had to hold his breath as he got to hit feet, the pain almost making him black out as his ribs shifted to the new position. He closed his eyes and tried to take deep breathes, although every inhale and exhale felt like a thousand knives.

“Get to safety,” Merlin said, letting his magic wash over him. It wasn’t a spell he used often. It took too much energy and he was already tired as it was, but he was desperate. The kid scrambled back as Merlin began to glow gold, rising above the crumbled asphalt.

Merlin’s vision turned entirely gold and he spotted the bulette’s weak point, right under its front legs, where the armor didn’t cover. With his last enchanted spear, Merlin gored the beast.

Merlin dropped to the ground, his head spinning and his vision going black. He couldn’t pass out in public. It was too dangerous. One last spell, he thought. Fingers crossed that he would make it back safely.

He teleported into his flat, recognized that he had made it successfully, and then he dropped to the floor like someone had cut the strings from a marionette.

Merlin’s whole body hurt. Even when he wasn’t entirely conscious, he was aware of that. The blunt force trauma had certainly broken his ribs and given him a hell of a concussion.

He was aware of someone moving him from the floor, arranging his limbs onto his bed. Then he felt someone open his mouth slip some pills onto his tongue and guide him to drink water, then wiping up his face when he choked on the water and it spilled it over his face.

When he woke again it was to a dull feeling that he recognized as heavy painkillers. He opened his eyes to find Arthur hovering over him, checking his pupils with a flashlight.

“You’re not a doctor,” Merlin mumbled, not coherent enough to fully process what was happening.

“No, but you refused to go to A&E. So here I am.”

“I did?”

Arthur sighed, turning to Merlin’s bedside table where there was a glass of water with a straw.

“Drink. You need fluids. You’ve been out of it for a day.”

Merlin obeyed, his mind too foggy to argue.

Arthur left the room and Merlin was left to stare at the ceiling, watching his vision blur for a few seconds before he drifted off again.

He was a bit more coherent when he woke again, this time to Arthur whispering, “I know it hurts, but I need you to tell me where it hurts.” Arthur pushed down the bed sheet and prodded his ribs, watching Merlin’s reactions carefully.

“Hold still. I’m going to give you some lidocaine, okay?”

Merlin didn’t think he had much of a choice, but if it would stop his ribs from hurting, Merlin wasn’t going to complain. After Arthur injected the lidocaine, he softly ran a hand over Merlin’s numbed ribs. “Better?”

Merlin nodded, although the movement hurt his head. He realized the only light was his desk lamp, and even that minimal light caused him to flinch.

“Why are you doing this?” Merlin asked.

Arthur’s face was in shadow, but Merlin could see the pinched expression anyway.

“It was all over the news, Merlin. The live video of Dragon Lord dropping like a stone. Then you disappeared after looking like you were about to faint. I rushed over to your flat as soon as I could.”

Merlin smacked his lips which were cracked and dry. Arthur lifted the cup of water again, angling the straw to Merlin’s mouth.

Merlin took a drink and then managed to say, “But I thought…Aren’t you angry with me?”

“Of course I am, Merlin.” Arthur snapped, “I’m furious that you would keep this from me. I don’t get it, and I don’t trust you, but…”

“But?” Merlin swallowed thickly, his head pounding.

“But you’ve been saving so many people. And this…” Arthur gestured to Merlin’s body. Merlin looked down, wincing at the movement. He had gathered a fair few amount of ‘battle scars’ over the years. Burns, lacerations, and general bruising came with the job. Currently Merlin’s entire torso was a horrible splotchy mess of black and blue with tinges of green.

“You’re putting your own life on the line for people who would sentence you to a life in prison… I don’t understand it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t see right from wrong.”

Merlin gave a weak smile, “I think that’s you saying I was right for once.”

Arthur shook his head, “Merlin…”

“I know,” Merlin sighed, his ribs protesting at the heavy breath despite the lidocaine injections. “I just want to help. I just…My magic has to be for something, Arthur. All this power and I can’t use it to help people?”

Arthur frowned, his hand coming up to gently push back Merlin’s hair from his brow.

“We’ll talk about this later. You’re still too tired. Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up again.”

Merlin nodded fractionally, his eyes already drifting shut, watching Arthur get up and head for the door.

“Arthur…”

Arthur turned to look at him.

“Thank you.”

Arthur gave a small smile, “You too. Get some rest.”

***

Prompts + Ficlets

#merlin #merlin fic #ficlets #can be read as pre-slash #or just gen #superhero merlin #elizabethleestorms

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jawritter · 4 years ago

Text

The Arrangement

Chapter 11

Summery: You are a young girl that was raised in a small church in Dallas, TX. One of the only churches left in the state that still practices arranged marriages. When your betrothed ran off to California you thought you'd escape the fate you were trained for ever since a small child. Now upon the death your parents your fate seemed to be inescapable as he's returned, and is ready to take you as his bride.

Book Warnings: Arranged marriage, loss of virginity, smut, unprotected sex, angst, language, suicide attempt, battles with anxiety, struggles with mental illness, age gap (about 11 years), I think that’s it, chapters will have warnings of their own!

Chapter Warnings: Angst, fighting, accusations of Infidelity, domestic violence (a slap), reading getting caught up in her own headspeace, insecure reader, Danneel being a raging bitch, manipulation, distrust, feelings of abandonment, language, I think that’s it.

Word Count: 2710

A/N: This book is a book about Christian and church based arranged marriages, I would like to take this moment to say that I DO NOT have ANYTHING against the Chirstian faith, and mean absolutely no harm to anyone! Especially Jensen’s family! This is a complete work of fiction, and should be treated as such!

Beta’d by the amazing @deanwanddamons who was awesome enough to do all this for me! It was a lot of work, and she deserves all the praise for it!!

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Want More? Check Out My Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

Three months.You and Jensen had been married for three months.

It felt like only yesterday that you closed the door on your parents house for the last time. Now here you are, stirring tonight's supper, waiting on your husband to get home from his meeting with his agents.

They had flown in to Austin last night to meet with him today about his 'future.' Jensen said that means that they wanted him to try out for some other acting roles, which he wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to do.

You told him that you would support him in whatever decision he made, though you knew that acting meant relocating if you wanted to be with him while he was filming, because the likelihood that he'd get a role that filmed in Austin where basically non existent.

You'd never lived outside of the state of Texas.

Actually, you'd never been outside of the state of Texas period, which was quite contradictory to your husband, who has literally been almost everywhere.

Sometimes he made you feel like such a child.

You knew that was never Jensen's intention. He never looked down on you or degraded you, at least not to your face. He even stood up to Jared three months ago. The two of them hadn't really spoken since, and you felt horrible about that. Even though Jensen had repeatedly told you that it wasn't your fault, and that Jared was being a child that needed to grow up.

You were lost in your own thoughts when the door opened and closed loudly, alerting you to Jensen's return.

"Y/N? You home?" You heard his voice ring through the house as he made his way toward the kitchen.

"Yeah in here!!" you yell over your shoulder, trying to compose your own thoughts before you had to come face to face with him.

His arms encircled around you, pulling your back tight to his chest. You instinctively leaned your head back against his shoulder.

There was something about his presence that just seemed to calm you. The way he smelt, the way his solid body felt up against your own, the way he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight; like if he let go of you, you'd disappear, and he just couldn't have that.

"How did your meeting go?"

"Not bad, not great, but not bad. They want me to try out for more roles, which I already knew. They didn't seem too happy when I said I wanted to work on my own album. One just by myself, and then maybe... I don't know." He sighed deeply against your neck, making you shiver.

"I got time to figure it out. I really am not sure I want to go back fully into acting, maybe just an appearance here and there, I really want to do my music. They said I had plenty of time to think about it."

Kissing you on the forehead, he takes his phone and wallet out of his jeans, then sits them on the counter next to you.

"I'm going to go grab a shower real quick, then after we eat we can lay on the couch and binge watch Friends, preferably naked." he said, winking at you and making you blush, before turning back to your task at hand.

Turning on the dishwasher after loading it, you heard the ding of Jensen's phone on the counter next to you.

It was a text.

You weren't trying to snoop , but you saw it anyway. When you heard the phone go off you imminently looked up at the phone.

It was his publicist Brian.

Jensen, call me. Someone took a pic of Danneel kissing you today. They turned it into TLC. Got to do damage control man.

You stood there staring at the phone on the counter, your heart hammering in your chest. You couldn't believe what you had just read. He had said she cheated on him, that they were done.

Your vision starts to blur and burn as tears brimmed their way to the surface of your eyes.

'No it's just a joke, or a mistake, he was meeting with his publicist and his agents today. He was nowhere near Danneel. It's a lie...'

Just as you had almost convinced yourself that it was bullshit another text came across the screen. This time it was the picture.

There they were, standing in front of a building, her mouth locked to his. You closed his phone and stumbled your way to the kitchen table that was just a few feet away.

You felt like your heart was being ripped out of your chest. Every fiber of your being felt like it was crumbling.

You hadn't realized until that moment how much you had really fallen for the man. Right now though, all you could really register was the inexplicable hurt, and feeling of being betrayed.

You wanted to leave, but had nowhere to go. You couldn't get out of a marriage like the one you and Jensen found yourself in easily. You were literally stuck unless Jensen released you. Even then you were back to where would you go?

Your thoughts weren't coherent anymore, just pain, and confusion. She was stunning compared to you, worldly, she could probably do a lot more for him than you could.

With that thought, the shame really hit you. You obviously weren't satisfactory to him, otherwise he wouldn't be going to his ex wife to get what he needed.

Tears were flowing down your face in earnest now, hurt, embarrassment, and your own insecurities eating away at you down to your very core.

How were you going to face him when he got out of the shower? What were you going to tell him? You didn't know how to handle this.

Hearing the bathroom door close you knew you needed to get yourself under control, but you couldn't, the hurt was just too much.

You tried desperately to dry your face so that he wouldn't notice you had been crying. You didn't know how he would react. You weren't intentionally standing there looking at his phone. You were just there when it went off, and crossed the screen. It wasn't like you were looking on purpose, and if you had your way, you'd never have seen it, and continued to live in ignorance. It would have hurt a lot less.

You heard him come into the living room, looking around for you.

"Baby? Where are you?"

You could hear him getting closer to the kitchen. Taking a deep breath you didn't know what to do. You wanted to yell, you wanted to slap him, which surprised you, you wanted to scream, you wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. The overwhelming emotions are too much for you to compute all at once.

You heard him come up to the table and pull a chair back. You must have looked as horrible as you felt on the inside because he immediately reached for your hand, which you jerked away from harshly. He sat there for a moment looking you over, not sure what to say or do, completely unaware of what caused this outburst from you.

"Baby, what's wrong? Talk to me sweetheart?"

He pushed the chair back, and moved to get on his knees in front of you, reaching for you. Your body reacts before you could even process what you were doing, shoving your chair back away from him harshly. You couldn't look him directly in the eye, but you didn't miss the flinch in body language when you pulled away from him so harshly. You’d never done that before.

"Come on baby, please talk to me. We were fine when I went to take a shower, what happened? Tell me so I can fix it, I don't like us like this."

Standing before he could finish his pleas, you cross the room to the counter and take his phone in your hand,walking halfway to him and throwing it at him before exiting the room to lock yourself in the bedroom that you shared with Jensen.

You didn't know where this kind of aggression came from, it wasn't in your nature. You slid down the door after locking, sitting with your back to the door as you fell apart, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

You thought for a moment that your heart was going to stop beating. You had never felt so completely broken.

You could hear him calling for you. The sound of him running closer to the door and jiggling the handle. You couldn't make yourself move. You couldn't face him, or the fact that you were not good enough for him, or the fact that he was probably very angry at you for throwing his phone at him, or looking at his text message, or a multitude of reasons your mind was conjuring up.

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

Jensen's POV:

Jensen's heart was pounding in his ears. He wanted to literally murder Danneel, and if it wouldn't be the fact that orange wasn't actually the new black he probably would have tried, and made it look like an accident.

She had been texting him for a week now. Saying how much she missed him, and how much of a mistake she had made, how she wanted another chance, how she wanted him back and for them to be a family again.

He had nothing left for her, he literally felt nothing. He knew she was full of shit, that she just didn't want to be brought to court over the children, because she knew if she lost, she would lose a pretty good bit of his income with it.

So he just ignored her, not answering her text messages and just deleting them. Seeing as she couldn't get through to him on the phone, she jumped up and followed him to his meeting with his agents this morning, and when he walked out of the office she had ambushed him, grabbing him and kissing him hard before he had time to react.

She must have had a photographer hiding in the street. He was pretty sure he'd figured out that she was jealous and trying to ruin his marriage toY/N. If it would have been a regular photographer, then the photo of him yelling at her and pushing her away would have followed, but nope. Just the one of her kissing him.

Anger boiled under his skin. Her narcissism knew no limits, and once he fixed this shit with his wife, the woman he actually cared about, he was filing for a restraining order tomorrow.

Jiggling the door knob again he spoke through the door. Everything in him wanting to hold her, to tell her it wasn't him, that he'd never do anything like that to her. He'd never hurt her. He wanted to shield her from shit like this, and had failed measurably. Now she thinks that he's cheating on her.

"Come on Y/N, open the door baby. This isn't what it looks like. Come on, let me in."

Nothing.

"Baby,you know I can pick a lock right? I want you to let me in though, I don't want to force my way in... Come on sweetheart, you got to believe me. She followed me to my meeting and kissed me. I didn't even know she was there until she basically jumped on me. Please sweetheart, I would have never, NEVER have done that to you."

Nothing. Jensen could feel the anxiety tightening in his chest like a vise.

He couldn't lose her, not over this. Leaving the door only long enough to get something to pick the lock on the bedroom door. He was starting to feel short of breath. Like he was about to have a full on anxiety attack.

He'd been afraid to admit he had real feelings this early in their marriage for Y/N, more than just basic lust. Funny how you don't really know what you have until you stare at the possibility of losing it.

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

Your POV:

You could hear Jensen messing with the lock on the door. You had thought he had just given up and walked away from the door. You had moved from your spot on the floor, and literally crawled your way to the bed. You didn't have the strength to get up to your feet to walk. It was like something in you had died.

You knew you really cared about Jensen, you knew you were quickly ‘falling’ for him, and wanted to make a good wife for him, but you didn't realize you had feelings this deeply for him.

You wanted more than anything to believe what he was saying, you wanted to believe it was all Danneel. You wanted to believe that she had jumped him outside the office building, and that he had nothing to do with it. She kissed him.

There was a part of you though that was screaming men lie when they get caught. He broke your trust. You're not good enough for him. You will never be good enough for him. You're a sheltered, overgrown child, that he hasn't even tried to take out in public with him since that fiasco at Jared's house.

You're nothing but something he's ashamed of.

A burden.

With every horrible thought that ripped through your head, it felt like your chest would cave in. Believing your own thoughts, the worst one yet ripped through your subconscious before you could stop it.

'You have no family left, and now you're about to not have a husband. You're too sorry to even hold on to an arranged marriage. Your father would be so disappointed. You are a disgrace, and a shame to your family's memories.'

The door burst open before you had time to even react to your own thoughts. Jensen's heavy footsteps moved quickly around the bed. He kneeled down in front of you.

"Baby please, I didn't kiss her. They didn't show the whole story. That's the media, they do shit like that to make drama for themselves. She jumped me outside the building when I left my agents meeting."

You couldn't look at him. Just continued to give a dead, heartbroken look at the wall.

"Y/N, please look at me. I'm not lying to you.. She's been texting me for days saying she wants me back. I've been ignoring her. That's why she did that."

Nothing. You couldn't make yourself respond to him. You felt like you had the grand canyon in your chest where your heart used to be. Your body refuses to function. Your mind told you to reach out to him. Even though something deep down in you told you that he was telling you the truth, an even louder voice in you told you that he's lying, and you will just get hurt if you believe him. That he's going to leave you. One way or another.

"Sweetheart please.. I love you, I'd never do anything like this, I don't want her.."

Was he really going to sit there and tell you he loved you? After what he'd done?

Something snapped in you then. Anger you hadn't expected flooded through you from the top of your head to your feet. Before you could even register what you were doing you reached out and slapped him hard in the face, knocking him from a kneeling possession to a sitting one.

A look of shock, bewilderment, and another look you couldn't recognize crossed his face as he sat there staring at you with his mouth hanging slightly open, staring at you.

"Don't you dare.. You don't have the right to come in here, and tell me you love me after what you've done..."

You sat there staring at each other for a moment, neither of you saying a word.

Jensen after a moment composed himself. Got to his feet, and walked out the bedroom door. Slamming it behind him.

You laid back down on the bed and cried yourself to sleep.

Why was God doing this to you? Why did he keep taking everything from you?

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Tag List: @deanwanddamons @imabitch4jensen @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen x reader #jensen x you #jensen ackles series #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #dean winchester #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #jawritter #jawritter 1k celebration #the arrangement

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uwua3 · 5 years ago

Note

hi! i really like your work, your sakuya oneshot made me emotional ;w; may i request headcanons for sakuya with an s/o who likes to make things for him? stuff like... knitting sweaters, making friendship bracelets, etc? i think he deserves to get spoiled !

aaaAAAAAAA thank you so much!!! i hope you’re feeling calm n collected now~ hopefully, it didn’t overwhelm you too much! but THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS !!!!! sakuma sakuya is my favorite boy ever so writing for him makes me soft 🥺 best boy deserves to get spoiled ugh your galaxy brain i love it!!! ♡

summary: sakuya had everything planned and figured out, but everything still went wrong...

author’s note: today is the LOVE TRAIN!!! choo choo!! i love ~ love ~ so this was super fun even if it’s outside of my comfort zone for so much fluff! this definitely got off the rails at the beginning, but i swear your prompt is fulfilled half way through! i just love LOVE!!! i love sakuya!!!!! i love ♡ LOVE ♡ that’s it

word count: 2,716

music: some – soyou & junggigo, say so – doja cat (to me, sakuya is the embodiment of the jpn 80s city pop vibe)

spoiled!

🌸🌷 sakuma sakuya

sakuya started from nothing and worked hard for everything that was his, never giving up and always persevered against all odds

so it wasn’t a big surprise when the moment sakuya realized you were the person he thought of when reciting his romantic lines, he made it clear he liked you

(luckily, masumi had quick reflexes and caught the script before it fell into the river. sakuya was too busy having the most lovestruck, dreamy smile as he started off into the horizon, saying, “i like them. i really like them.”)

(“about time, you big sap.” masumi handed the packet back, but he looked just as content to see his best friend come to the realization. if only director felt the same way... sigh)

sakuya started being more direct in the most sakuya way possible, initiating planned dates that he just called “hang–outs”

(yeah, they were all definitely dates)

it wasn’t until sakuya asked you to come over at a very specific time to the dorms that you felt like something was going

you wouldn’t find out why until it was operation: ask you out, you got this sakuya! (abbreviated to go sakuya!!! on the labelled binder he had)

he finally asked you out when his heart told him the timing was perfect! sakuya had every tiny detail planned and laid out, presenting it at the very urgent scheduled meeting to his spring troupe members

sakuya was a true leader, he had prevented anything from going wrong and took extreme measures to make sure tonight was perfect

so when you confirmed you would come over soon, sakuya felt his nerves kick in as he launched himself into the living room, ordering everyone to get out (but very politely)

“hi, um. guys? could you leave? for the night?” sakuya shyly requested (he was so impatient though, he wanted to tell you he liked you already! it had to be the best for you!)

confused, everyone halted their afternoon activities as tsuzuru’s big brother instincts made him take over and explain the dilemma at hand, although, not well

(everyone got even more confused, what the hell was tsuzuru talking about? something about the perfect violin music? the 90s disney movie ambience? taking every comforter in the residence for a fort?)

itaru sighed, stepping up to the plate. he wasn’t taking time out of his video game time for nothing

“in other words, sakuya needs to ask someone out before he explodes from his lovey–dovey feelings. he needs the room for his date.”

(citron burst into tears, dramatically sinking to the floor as sakuya hurried over with hugs, genuinely worried for his friend. “sakuya~ you are growing up so fast! you are such a good boy!!!”)

even though he didn’t want to ask for help, the whole company automatically ignored him and went to go assist him in decorating

with a couple of funny comments here and there about why he was going out more and his literal heart eyes

(“oh look at sakusaku in love~” azuma pulled on sakuya’s cheek, everyone gushing over sakuya’s blush and his bright eyes as he thought about you. he was so passionate about you, just like acting!)

but the jokes were reserved for another time because their leader needed their help. it was time to repay back the favors sakuya always did for them, he did deserve a night of just romance!

he deserved the world for being such a good person

the main lights were turned off. twinkling fairy lights were pinned up to the top of the walls. red tablecloth was put over the main table. food was placed on a silver platter sakyo only reserved for very special occassions. proper plating was set up with every type of utensil possible (even a salad fork, there was no salad). the projector was set up behind the sofa. a comfy, elaborate pillow and blanket fort took over the whole sitting area. rose petals decorated the entryway and aromatic candles filled the room with love. tonight was going to be perfect

spring troupe raided the costumes department to quickly make waiter–styled outfits for the night (banri wasn’t allowed to help the moment he held something animal print up). sakuya let taichi clip on his bowtie and yuki check the measurements of his new formal wear. running by, homare dropped a fresh rose into a vase in the middle of the dining table before going into a verse about young love. omi finished up the delicious spaghetti, due to muku giggling about lady & the tramp and sharing a noodle. everyone put in the effort to get the volunteers ready for the biggest act of sakuya’s life

“everyone, three cheers for sakuya and his potential partner tonight!” tsuzuru led the group chant as sakuya stared at himself in the mirror, grinning as he willed himself to take a deep breath. he had this in the bag, tonight was going to be perfect

as sakuya stood in the corridor after the preparations, it felt like he was backstage before a major performance. the butterflies in his stomach were going crazy, he was so excited to see you

food? check! music? check! decorations? check! perfect outfit? check! everyone ready for their cues? check! flowers? che—wait...

before sakuya could have a minor, tiny meltdown over forgetting a very essential part of his plan, tsumugi ran back inside covered in dirt as he gracefully passed a sweet boquet with a light pink ribbon tied around the stems. it was so thoughtful, sakuya almost teared up right then and there

“this one means confessing a crush,” tsumugi said, pointing to the abundance of daisies before taking his leave, whispering good luck on the way out. tasuku waved, sporting a thumbs up

juza held hisoka up with a serious, but supportive nod. tenma winked, enough said

sakuya smiled, he had such good friends!

the common room in the dorms was evacuated as the other spring troupe members were hiding in the kitchen, acting as servers to the very exclusive mankai restaraunt. the clock struck 8pm as kamekichi flew by, closing the curtains in the process just like they discussed

sakuya heard a knock on the front door. that was his cue; sakuya moved to stand by the classy table as he heard itaru’s business voice greet you professionaly. he almost giggled at the confusion in your voice before itaru led you to the kitchen, a shocked look on your face as sakuya pulled your chair out

“you look beautiful.” sakuya honestly admitted, feeling his cheeks flush when you looked away with a smile. sakuya pushed your chair in as he went back to the other side, gently taking your hand as he tapped on the table three times. at the sign, he heard masumi start playing his classical violin in the background

phase 1: get you to sit down (check!)

“thank you, i don’t know what to say!” you stammered, looking around at the transformed scenery as tsuzuru walked in, bowing at you two before placing two menus down. there was really only one thing on the menu, but it was in some fancy cursive font so it was acceptable

“would you like to get started? or should i give you a few minutes?” tsuzuru questioned, having his notepad at ready with a black pen as he followed the script without problems. sakuya watched as you stared at the menu, unaware of what to do next

improv time! sakuya immediately ordered two servings of spaghetti, knowing it was the only thing he had planned with two cups of water (tsuzuru almost broke character when he almost reached a hand out to ruffle sakuya’s hair, pretending to stretch instead)

“certainly, sir. enjoy your time at mankai!” tsuzuru took his leave, going to wait his specific allocated time of 5 minutes before coming back. you looked at sakuya, his face starng back into yours with a fond smile

“thank you for coming—” sakuya started but was cut off by a very loud scream. a very citron–sounding scream. following the shriek, the sound effect of glass smashing on the floor and the wet slap of noodles was very clear. the violin cut off with an awful note, making you wince as you pulled your hand back

phase 2: eat spaghetti (oh, crap)

silence. then—

“OH MY GOD, CITRON!” tsuzuru yelled, shuffling open the script sakuya handed out. citron began apologizing profusely, not realizing you and sakuya were sitting in disbelief and uncertain about what was going to happen next

“ah, this was not GJ... press f in the chat.” itaru commented monotonously, offering a very sarcastic clap. “shut up!” masumi tried to salvage the situation, but the damage was already done

it wasn’t until you heard a muffled sigh that the boys stopped fighting. sakuya tried hiding his face as he sunk lower in his seat, holding his head in his hands

“i’m... i’m so sorry!” sakuya apologized, trying to form a coherent sentence without his voice cracking from embarrassment. the spring boys felt awful, quickly trying to clean up the mess and turn this date around the right way

but you smiled, standing up to put your hand on his shoulder as he tensed. were you going to leave? this had to be the worst date ever! you were too nice, you were trying to spare his feelings—how embarrassing!

“saku, it’s okay.” you comforted, bending down to look him in the eye. sakuya nodded, wiping his nose as he blinked away his frustrated tears. i must look so immature, sakuya pouted, trying to appear as calm as possible. but inside, he was screaming. how could have this happened so early on? he did everything!

“no, i wanted tonight to be perfect because i wanted to ask—” sakuya felt your hand guide his face to look at yours, your fingers gently holding onto his chin. you smiled

“will you be my boyfriend, saku?” you asked, seeing his face go blank before shooting out of his seat, almost knocking you down as he started jumping up and down

“yes, oh my god, of course!” sakuya composed himself, rubbing the back of his neck as he settled down from your laughter. sakuya instead picked you up, spinning around as he couldn’t help but laugh along with you

“oh my god, do you really like me?!” sakuya couldn’t believe his ears, you liked him even after this whole disaster of a date!

(this would be the start of the best dates ever as long as sakuya was there)

“no one has put so much effort into something for me like this before, you’re one of a kind.” you truthfully said, putting your hands on his face as he lowered you to the ground after losing the adrenaline rush

before you could connect your lips to his, you smelt a floral scent in your face and leaned back to see him panicking with a boquet of daisies

(you would soon learn sakuya was planning something very, very special for the first kiss. it didn’t go wrong, that time)

“uh... this is for you! please accept them!!!” sakuya thrusted the boquet into your hands and the rest of the night was yours to share

(sakuya kicked the spring members out, pushing them out of the door and promising to give them a huge rant later on. it wasn’t much, though, just a “i’m not angry, i’m just disappointed” speech that had no merit since he couldn’t stop smiling)

after that, you accepted sakuya and all of life’s mishaps, disasters, and unfortunate events that seemed to follow him despite his best efforts to do everything right

even though he loved just as much to spoil you rotten by spending quality time together, you always looked forward to getting the upper hand and surprising him thoughtful gifts!

sakuya hated it when you spent money on him, always taking the gift but trailing after you like a lost puppy trying to pay you back

(the kid even tried sneaking in cash when you weren’t looking. sakuya’s acting skills were useful when he pretended like he had no idea where a random $20 came from!)

(he later got excited seeing the same lucky bill on the sidewalk during a park walk, not noticing it was the same exact one he tried giving to you)

once you realized pricey, store–bought presents weren’t the way to go and only made sakuya feel guilty, you resorted to hand–made items that had your name all over it

you loved sewing! you even stole sakuya’s worn white hoodie with “SPRING” on it, embroidering lovely cherry blossoms around the words and at the end of the sleeves

you hid your initials + S.S. on the inside of the spot right over his heart (sakuya wouldn’t find it until one day, he was about to flip it inside out for laundry and was found cradling the fabric with happy tears sitting at the base of the washer)

(he wouldn’t move and masumi had to send you a picture of what a wreck your boyfriend was — “come get him already, he doesn’t have clean clothes”)

when you gave it back to him after he accepted it was gone forever, sakuya nearly passed out from how overwhelmed he was with your kindness! he wears it even more now, running his fingers over the texture of the flowers and feeling your love in every stitch every time he thought of you

(he started doing it subconciously, it became a comforting habit for him to do now)

acting like his professional stylist, you even knitted this super cute puff–ball beanie that was pink, silver, and white

the word “BLOSSOM” across the top became your new pet name the moment he received it (your contact was now blossom *insert every pink heart emoji ever*)

(unrelated but yes you two cosplayed as blossom and brick from the powerpuff girls for halloween)

your largest gift ever was a quilt blanket of patches you sewed of memories you shared!

(even the spaghetti disaster you now laughed about later on! sakuya realized wearing all white eating tomato sauce was a very bad idea)

countless movie nights, walks in the park, picnics by his favorite river, playing cute 3ds games together, decorating for school–wide events, and visiting the aquarium for the adorable clownfish were all apart of a blanket he would definitely save first in a hypothetical fire

yet, sakuya’s favorite gift ever was always on his person: a beaded promise bracelet you made

(you even got one back, although he definitely needed your help so it wasn’t much of a surprise)

it was during a community service event where sakuya signed up to take care of the little kids running around at the library center. it was art day, so he was happily painting a blank sculpture in the colorful room surrounded by a bunch of children who were concetrated on painting the best pokémon ever

you loved sakuya’s big heart and how he always dedicated time to helping others, so you made an effort to join him in his altrustic hobbies

(couples who care for the community stay together, obviously)

it had been a week after you noticed how sakuya’s famous pink watch was off his wrist. he downplayed it, just saying it wasn’t his favorite anymore even though he wore it for years

(but citron blabbed and confessed it was broken and he had never seen sakuya so upset except on spaghetti night)

(citron shuddered. no one speaks of spaghetti night around sakuya)

so when you slipped the pink beaded bracelet with his name and a small heart around the pikachu’s ears as a crown, sakuya looked up to see what would be his favorite piece of jewelery of all time

sakuya’s work ethic never went away and he worked twice as hard to have you happy to be with him, but it was nice to take a break and be spoiled every once in a while

(more like, spoiled every day as you always had something new to give. they would all become his lucky charms and it seemed like his accident–prone fortune went away)

sakuya was glad you worked just as hard to be with him; he loves you very, very much!

#sakuma sakuya #sakuya sakuma #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! headcanons #act! addict! actors! headcanons #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! x reader #a3 x reader #sakuya x reader #a3! sakuya #a3 sakuya

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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years ago

Text

Disaster Lads: The Inevitable

The third part of my AU collab with @whumpiary where Cass (Ace) and Kauri meet. Read Part One and Part Two for context!

In Part Three, things heat up, get angsty, and then there’s a surprise at the end you’ve all been waiting for... or maybe you weren’t, but trust me... it’s fun.

CW: CONSENSUAL SPICE. This is not implied, fade-to-black, or suggested. These boys have a lovely time and they’re happy to share it with you. Discussion of abusive relationship/abusive past, conditioning,

Tagging Kauri’s crew: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @moose-teeth, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl, @spiffythespook, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly

“I have stuff,” Kauri says, all at once. “In my. I always… I have stuff for it.”

And God, Cass nearly falls apart at the table at that. He wants to climb over the table, or under it maybe, and have Kauri begging right there. Instead he takes in a deep, even breath, tries to stay calm and in control as he pulls his hand back a little, creating distance. One of them had to, huh?

It’s so much better like this than it had been behind the bar. Kauri’s embarrassed and stumbling and wanting it so bad he can barely get his words out properly and the earnest nervousness of it all is so fucking hot. There was literally nothing more attractive than someone wanting something so badly they were ceasing to function.

“You’re doing just fine,” Cass says with a smile, goes in with the understatement of the century. “It’s kinda cute, actually.”

Cass’ eyes slide briefly over Kauri’s shoulder to where Nick is serving a few tables down. He wonders how much shit Kauri’s gonna get in for leaving a free meal behind. He grabs a napkin from the holder, wrapping up his own untouched burger and shoving it in his pocket to give to Kauri later.

“C’mon tiger,” he says, voice heavy with want he’s not even trying to disguise anymore “Let’s get you out back, shall we?”

Kauri wants to say fuck yes and you go first and it all gets too jumbled in his head and instead he mumbles something like, “Fuck first,” then turns an even brighter red and grins. He pulls the ten out of his pocket and drops it on the table.

“Leave a good tip,” He says, sort of embarrassed. “Since we-... with the food. Brings good luck.”

He gives Nick a sunny goodbye, stopping to go up on his toes to kiss his cheek before he pulls Cass out the door, leaving Nick staring wide-eyed with a weird half-grin on his face as they go.

Kauri doesn’t really make it further than the first steps to the back of the building before he moves his back against a wall and pulls Cass to him, pulling him closer for a hard kiss. The skills were learned all the wrong ways but he wants to use them, he’s good at this. His brain is a blurring, fuzzy white noise of lust and it’s the best Kauri ever feels, just like this.

Kauri kisses like he was made for it. Which, Cass thinks as his thoughts slip back to Kauri’s mention of training, maybe he had been. But the fuck does that matter when he moves his hips like this, when his tongue does that, when Cass is almost struggling to keep up, and shit, when did that happen. He kisses up Kauri’s neck and slips his hands under his shirt, breath quickening at the first thrill of skin on skin.

“Tell me you want it,” he says against Kauri’s throat. Because yes he can feel it, he can feel it so strong it’s basically got him seeing double but he wants to hear it. He wants to hear that same irresistible desperation from earlier. Those practiced, expert hands paired with the overwhelmed little stutter of a guy who’s only just figuring out how to actually say yes.

Kauri arches his back into the press of warm palms against his stomach, pushing back under the hands slipping under his shirt, almost whining with it. His skin lights up at the touch, and he's breathing hard around the next kiss, and the next.

"I do, I want you-" He catches himself before he can slip into anything too practiced, refusing to let that in this time.

Instead, he takes a breath, gives Cass a cockeyed smile, and says, low and soft and his blush is red enough to read even in the dark, "I, um. Gonna need you in some part of me tonight, pretty soon. I, I want-"

His mind supplies an amazing, confused flurry of thoughts of legs around Cass's waist or with his chest and stomach against the wall or bent over or on his hands and knees and he can barely think coherently enough to form words behind yes now again.

"I, I'm not good at saying things right when I'm not acting, uh, I just-..." He slips a hand forwards, deftly undoing the button on Cass's pants and yanking down his zipper so he can slip a hand down, feel the warmth of skin there, different than anywhere else. "I want this," He says, half-breathes. "In me."

Cass jerks up into Kauri’s hand at the touch involuntarily, laughing against Kauri’s mouth, “That’s all you had to say, baby.”

He kisses Kauri hard as he fumbles with the button on the other man’s jeans, one hand snaking beneath the waistband of his underwear to palm at Kauri’s hardening cock as the other pulls his hips in tight to his own.

Working with Kauri’s body is like following the line of a road on a map. It’s so simple and so satisfying Cass could do it with his eyes closed. It would be so easy to fall to his knees, pull Kauri into his mouth with a cruel little ‘my turn first’ and drag it out until the guy was desperate and begging but God all he wants right now is to be inside of the guy, fuck him until he can’t breathe, until he can’t think of anything else.

“You said you had stuff?” he says, voice low and grazing, free hand travelling over Kauri’s hips, down his back, over the shape of his arse while the other works at the guy’s cock. He breathes hot against Kauri’s neck. He doesn’t want to wait. He wants him now.

For once, Kauri isn’t really worried about how he looks. Normally there’s some hint of putting on a show, of looking the right way, training and need working together to make him the kind of lay people remember just looking at for some of the time.

But he’s trying not to do that with Cass. Instead he’s more fumbling, even though his touch is expert, and he breathes in high little moans, hips jerking himself against Cass’s hand. He’s so hard he could scream so fast - Cass is good at this, too, so good, like he can tell every single place Kauri wants him to touch without him ever even saying it.

“Uh, y-yeah, in my… hnnnh, yes, right there-... in my pocket, h-hold on-” His pants are falling down around his hips and he probably looks ridiculous trying to hold himself together, digging into an inside pocket on his zip-up, flashing lust-bright eyes up at Cass, breathing hard. He holds up a condom in one hand and a little single-use packet of lubricant in the other.

“Ta-da,” He says, with a hint of the shy, slightly nervous smile. “Always, um, always have stuff. You’re so fucking gorgeous. D’you want me, um, me to… I can put it on you with my mouth.”

It had taken three full training sessions to learn how to do that, and his jaw had ached for days.

Cass’ smile falters for a moment before returning, eyes flicking between Kauri and the condom. He's so earnest it's almost devastating.

“Uh, no. No, thanks. You don’t have to do that,” Cass flashes a grin before snatching both packets, distracting Kauri with a kiss as he tears the condom open with nimble fingers, rolling it on blind. He tears the second packet open with his teeth, slicking himself up with one hand while the other pushes at the back of Kauri’s hips with enough pressure to turn him. “Now, flip.”

He pulls himself close along then other man’s back, reaching around to stroke him as he slips his slicked-up hand beneath Kauri’s waistband.

“I don’t need tricks,” Cass murmurs against Kauri’s neck as he presses a finger into him “Just be your gorgeous self.”

Kauri lets out a shuddering breath, turning quickly around - so fast he nearly trips on himself and has to throw a hand up on the wall to catch his balance. “I’m sorry, I’m-... sorry, I’m usually better at this part…”

He’s trying not to use his training - somehow Cass seems to know when he does it - but taking away all the training means he’s mostly awkward and fumbling and feels like he’s barely had sex before. Still, he can’t quite help the grin on his face, pressing his forehead against the wall and shifting hands to his pants to undo them and push them lower down to barely stay up around his thighs as Cass presses his finger in.

“Hnnnh, you’re… fuck, that’s good,” He whispers. Something in him, some restlessness he can only rarely settle, is soothed as soon as someone does something like this. Wanted, he’s wanted, he’s someone, he matters to someone, if only for a while. “Can… can you, um, kiss my neck, a little, while you-... that…”

Cass laughs gently, teeth grazing Kauri’s earlobe as he starts to kiss down his neck in response. It’s relieving having someone arch up against him like this. He doesn’t have to think. He doesn’t have to analyse or second-guess. He doesn’t have to navigate the nuances of what they want or don’t want because it’s so fucking obvious and it feels so good to give it to Kauri. Like he’s falling back into the role he’s meant to be in. Like every other moment had just been lead-up, had just been treading water until he could be right back here, where he belonged, his body pressed up against another person, giving them what they needed.

“You feel so good,” he says, adding a second finger, curling them just a little just to hear the way Kauri’s breath hitches. He presses an open mouthed kiss to the join between Kauri’s shoulder and his throat, stroking him slow, easing in a third, “God I can’t wait to be inside of you.”

Kauri lets out a breathy little whine, not quite a moan, bucking his hips forward and then rocking them back, his head dropping forward a little and his eyes closing. Forward, into Cass’s grip around him, the way his hand is moving just a little slow, exactly how Kauri wants it - no one ever knows to start this slow, like this, no one ever just knows that but somehow Cass knows that’s how he wants it.

Forward into his hand, backwards onto his hand, Cass’s mouth on his skin. He’s drowning in the other man in all the best ways. “Fuck, you even smell good,” Kauri manages, his voice higher, breathy, rocking back and this time his back arches and his head falls back on Cass’ shoulder. “Ah! Haaah, ah, y-you, ah, shit, no one finds it this fast, want-... I want you so b-bad, Cass.”

It doesn’t come out practiced or trained, it’s all shaken up in him. He wants Cass’s cock in him so bad he can’t think.

Cass tangles his fingers in those curls and tugs gently back until Kauri’s neck is pulled back in a delicious arc. He sucks kisses along it as he pulls his fingers out of Kauri, wraps them around his own length.

He eases in slowly, so fucking slowly, too fucking slowly, and has to nuzzle along the length of Kauri’s neck, inhaling deep, breath hitching just to keep himself calm. He lets out a barely-there moan, more of an exhale of breath.

He’s so desperate for this, for Kauri. So desperate to make him feel good, to give him what he needs. It would be so easy to rut into him, fast and hard like an animal, have him stretched open and panting in seconds, but it’s good like this, better like this, because he can feel Kauri melting under his hands, keening at every gentle touch.

“Can’t believe I-... I get to have you like this,” he says voice stuttering with his breath as he rocks his hips forward, slow and smooth. He runs his thumb over the tip of Kauri’s cock with just the slightest amount of pressure, matching his own rhythm in gentle strokes “So fucking- God you’re so beautiful. Can’t believe I get t- to do this for you”

Kauri relaxes around him, one of the first and hardest skills he'd learned was how to relax his body no matter how he felt and the skill comes in so handy now. He lets out a soft whine as Cass presses on, the sensation of being filled driving him as crazy as the hand stroking him off.

"Next time I, I want to look at your-... ah, face-... Yes, yesyesyes-" Cass has a steady rhythm, slow but deep, and Kauri rocks his hips back against him, burying him deeper with each thrust.

He feels like he'll collapse if Cass pulls out, just clatter to the ground. Like being full of his cock is all that's holding him together.

Cass hits that spot inside him, then again, and Kauri moans, grinding back. More now harder. The best he ever feels, in moments like this.

“I like the s- God- like the sound of next time.”

He pictures Kauri’s legs around his waist, or his mouth around Kauri’s cock, or making him fall apart with words alone, just begging for Cass to touch him. He imagines fucking him slow, flat on his back, keeping him on edge for an hour as he kisses him soft. He’d give him whatever he wants- everything he wants.

Cass braces one hand against the wall as he quickens his pace, the other wrapping around Kauri’s front, pulling him tight to Cass’ chest as he fucks into him. He buries his face in Kauri’s hair. He wants him close, even closer than this. God, he just wants more. He feels needy and desperate, even now, buried inside of him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Cass manages out, thrusting in hard and deep. “So fucking good.”

He drops his mouth to Kauri’s neck again, nipping gently at the delicate skin. He’s close. He’s so damn close.

Kauri’s conscious thought shatters, finally, and he feels the need in him building, heat in him pushing him towards climax but he’s trained for this, too, on a level deeper than thought. Kauri knows how to pace himself, to make it perfect, to time everything just right so that the person inside him finishes before he does.

He wants Cass to finish first, wants to feel him before he lets go.

“C’n… hold on, can do… you want to feel good, let me just-”

Kauri lets out a breathless, half-moaned laugh and tightens himself around Cass, turning his head to kiss into Cass’s neck, nipping at his skin. “Need you to, to come so I can come for you,” he breathes into his ear.

It’s all he needs. Cass curls around the shape of Kauri with a moan, breath caught in his throat as he comes. He lets his mind go blank, his thoughts go quiet, wrapped in pleasure and pressed deep into another man’s body.

He stays there, continuing to rock into Kauri gently as his hand wraps back around Kauri’s cock, the other tracing pretty lines down his jaw, down his throat, down his chest with long, soft fingers.

“So perfect,” he whispers against his shoulder “Come for me.”

The command tips him over, and Kauri moans, rocking forward into Cass’s hand and then going suddenly still and tense, spilling with Cass still moving in him and against him, jerking his hips in small movements as he comes onto the wall and then the ground, soft little cries muffled against Cass’s neck.

He was made for this. It’s what he is, what he was remade to do. In the moment of orgasm and then in the afterglow, Kauri feels like a whole person. He’s wanted. Cass wanted him, and he did it all exactly right. He’s good, a good boy, good at what they made him.

He feels so warm, floating in post-orgasm bliss, wanting nothing more than this moment to last.

“Th-that was… was…” Kauri laughs, breathless, pressing kisses against Cass’s neck, sliding his arms up and around behind him so he won’t pull out too soon, enjoying the feeling even now. “Best sex I’ve h-had up against a wall in an alley… You’re so fucking good.”

"All you, gorgeous," Cass laughs, still rocking his hips slowly, drunk on the feeling. God, he could stay here all night. "You're so good, Kauri. So, so good for me."

He stays there for another few moments, peppering Kauri with soft kisses and letting the other man do the same. It feels like the world stops hurtling on so violently when he can just lean into this, stay here, forget about himself and forget about everything. Just give someone exactly what they need. Exactly what they want. It was so simple.

Everything else was complicated, tangly and difficult but this… He knows he’s good like this.

"Next time... we do that in private, so I can stay just like this for you," he says, another quick kiss against Kauris temple "But for now..."

He grabs Kauri's hand, moving it away so he can start to ease out. His own hand is still tucked around Kauri’s front, under his shirt, feeling every stutter and movement of his body as he pulls out. He tucks Kauri back in before he tidies himself up, pulling the condom off and zipping his jeans back up.

Kauri, used to mostly cleaning himself up and usually cleaning up the other guy, too - it’s part of training, he falls into it mindlessly and the guys never seem to notice and if they do, they just say thank you and don’t give it a second thought - blinks, staring down at Cass’s hands so carefully shifting his pants back up over his hips, tucking him back into them, even zipping and buttoning and he lets out a huff of disbelieving laughter.

What had he done to meet someone so nice?

He turns to say thank you and instead Cass’s mouth is on his, insistent but still soft and sweet, and Kauri melts against him, sliding arms eagerly around his waist to hold him close, draw it out, make it last even longer. Finally, when they break apart, Kauri is still nearly panting, still feeling the languid afterglow looseness in his limbs.

Cass keeps his voice low and soft in that way that seems to make Kauri short circuit, “Still wanna come back to mine?”

“Yeah, I… yeah, I do, I want-... I want to, um, to get a little longer with you. Plus, I can’t exactly write you a letter-” Kauri’s voice cuts off, and then he laughs, a little nervously. “Since I don’t have anywhere you could get me one back. I want-... yeah. If you’re still offering, I do.”

Kauri's easy to fluster, Cass is realising. Intensely so. There's been a permanent blush on his cheeks since before they left the diner, and everything he says is coloured by the adorable tripping over of words. He gives Kauri's hand a squeeze and a little smile, pulling him out towards the street before dropping it again, walking backwards as he talks.

"Well you'll know where I live in about three minutes, so you can just leave me a love note like diner-boy did."

He flashes a grin and walks in the opposite direction than they'd come. Away from the bar, away from the burger joint. He can see the Facility buildings from here, nondescript and unsigned. It’s hard to tell, if you don’t know what they are, if they’re meant to be residential or corporate. Probably because they functioned as a mix of both.

He feels like a teenager sneaking someone in through his bedroom window. Like he’s breaking some private rule with himself that keeps his two worlds separate. He glances back to Kauri, smiles in that easy way, "Hey so it’s no big deal, but, uh... guests aren’t exactly celebrated at the Facility so like, if we see anyone, just be chill, yeah?"

Kauri walks after him like a lovesick puppy and he knows it, a stupid smile on his face but Cass doesn't seem to mind and Kauri can't seem to stop.

All his stuff will be waiting for him at the park even if it takes him a day. He's had to leave his backpack and everything before for nearly a week. Nobody knows about the loose tile in the bathroom ceiling where Kauri keeps things.

It sounds so fucking nice to have a Facility you could just leave if you wanted. Kauri's vaguely jealous as he talks, thinking it sounds like the dorms in Owen's movies.

"I can be chill," Kauri says seriously, with sparkling eyes and a flush still in his face. "I'm good at quiet, I was, I… learned how to be really quiet. I won't fuck it up."

He was nervous, but he wanted more of Cass, for at least a little bit. He could be normal long enough to fool whoever they might run into.

There's a part of Cass that wants to tell Kauri to stop talking. Every time he opens his mouth, some horrible line of tragic comes peeling out from nowhere. Cass tries not to linger on it, the little slips. About learning and training and being good.

"Well we don't have to be that quiet," he says, trying to keep it light. "Just careful."

The door unlocks with a quick little beep as Cass flashes some other guy’s keycard and he pushes it open. He gestures for Kauri to go inside, feeling suddenly embarrassed at how upscale the place must look in comparison to damp alleys and park benches.

"Not really my deal," he says, trying to shrug it off. "But I'm not paying or anything, so..."

The foyer is orchids-on-the-marble-desk kind of nice. There's a completely impractical couch to the left you could probably trade in for a decent car. Cass hates everything about this place but it was still better than Christopher's. And he'd bet serious money it's leaps and bounds from wherever Kauri last slept.

It looks like the lobby in Owen's condo, to Kauri, only even nicer. He presses himself to Cass's side, nervous in his grungy thrift-store clothes, worried they'll kick him out or know what he is by sight, that someone like him only belongs in a place like this if he's got a collar around his neck.

Or it'll be like they said in training - runaway Romantics come to bad ends when someone knows they can't really fight back.

By the time they get to the elevators he's holding onto Cass's waist tightly enough to probably hurt.

"I'm a few floors up," Cass says, a flirty smile trying to smother the sudden tension running through him. "Reckon I could have you begging again before we get there?"

He doesn't realize his breathing has picked up until Cass talks again, and Kauri's answer comes out more breathless than he means it to. He nuzzles briefly into Cass's neck just for the reassuring hit of safe he feels when he's touching someone.

"I'd beg for you right here," He says, and then turns red again. "I'm sorry. I get, um, I do that when I'm, um. Yes."

Cass feels on edge all of a sudden. Out of his element. He doesn't like bringing people back here, he doesn't even like being here. The whole point of going out and hooking up with people is that he can be somewhere else for a night. And he'd ended up hauling Homeless Hottie through the door instead.

"You don't have to come up, you know." The words come from nowhere. Not rude, just a little prickly. "Like I don't need you to be here, it's just a place to crash."

He rakes his eyes over the other man, who looks just as nervous as Cass feels. Jittery. Like someone’s about to arrest him.

"I fuckin' hate this place so if it’s making you feel weird or you wanna leave, I get it," he tries to feel casual about it, watching for the elevator doors to open. Please stay though. I hate it here but I don’t hate you so please, please stay. "It's not like we didn't already fuck, so no hard feelings."

Kauri leaves places. It's what he does, stay long enough for someone to want him and then go when they don't any longer, or when the closed door might be locked and he can't handle it any longer.

Weirdly, though, he doesn't want to leave Cass.

"I'm sorry," Kauri says softly. He's made him mad, somehow, and he's not quite sure what he did this time. He started the whole night by getting Cass mad – Kauri's carefully-remade mind drops the simple fact that Cass had actually gotten mad at Matt, and substitutes himself as being at fault for not just taking the drink and being good with perfect seamlessness – and he's done it all over again without even trying.

"I want to stay with you," He says, sincerely, truthfully. "Overnight. I think I want to know you better for a while. I just, um. No, you're right, if you don't want me in your place that's, that's okay. I was just being-... I haven't-... I get nervous about locked doors but it doesn't mean I don't want something."

Cass nods slow, trying not to prickle over the idea that this place is anything close to his. He flicks his eyes over Kauri, almost surprised at the amount of resolve in his voice. He shrugs. Makes a choice.

"Okay. So no locked doors," he tosses Kauri the keycard that isn't his. Nobody was paying him to give a shit about facility security and he'd snag another one tomorrow anyway. "All I want is a good time, alright? For both of us."

Kauri takes the keycard and stares down at it, blinking, then the tension melts out of him all over again and he slips it into his back pocket. The elevator doors slide open and Kauri is noticeably more relaxed as he’s pulled into the elevator, looking up at Cass with all the humor and lightness back in his eyes.

Cass steps backwards until his back is pressed up against the mirrored wall with Kauri in front of him, hand reaching out to press the button for his level as the doors slide closed again. He tries to let the tension in his shoulders drop, fastening on a grin in its wake "Now tell me what you want."

“I want…” Kauri thinks it through - there’s a pile of responses on his tongue, ready to go, all of them trained and conditioned, memorized and repeated at the other end of a shock stick or tied up in ropes or hit on the knuckles whenever he got it wrong. He rejects every single one, because none of them are the true thing, the thing he really wants to say.

It’s pure sincerity when he leans in closer to Cass, goes up on his toes to kiss him, and says softly, “I want you to kiss, um-... to kiss me stupid ‘til we get into your room and I want to ride you when we’re in there.”

Kauri’s so easy to kiss. He’s so easy to move with, so easy to tug and pull. He’s so easy to want. Cass pulls him in close, and with barely enough space between them to breathe it’s hard not to think God, he’s made for this.

“You’re so good,” Cass says, pressing up against him. The elevator doors slide open behind them and Cass kisses Kauri backwards until they’re up against the hallway wall, Kauri giggling quietly and running his hands up Cass’s sides and back down to his hips to pull them flush again.

The res level is featureless and clinical compared to the foyer. Why waste money decorating something the public didn’t see? Something only meant for those lowest on the company totem pole?

He leads Kauri down the hallway a few steps, pushing him gently into his quarters as the door slides open, kissing him all the while.

“Sorry ‘bout the mess,” he says with a grin, stripping his jacket and adding it to a chair piled with clothes. “My, uh, boss likes things to stay tidy, so naturally I keep it as messy as possible.”

Aside from the debris of his life scattered around – clothes on the floor, papers and books on the inbuilt desk, a couple pill bottles sitting pretty by the lamp – the place is stark and white. Featureless. The king single shoved in the corner lays unmade, white quilt gathered at the bottom a testament to the restless sleeper he is when he dains to occupy it. He feels strange with someone in his space like this. Exposed, almost.

“I’d offer you something to drink but, uh,” he looks around the room, shrugs “I’m not exactly well-equipped for guests.”

“That’s okay,” Kauri answers, sincerely, looking around the room with the opposite of Cass’s expression on his face. There’s a hint of nervous worry when he sees the stark white walls, the slightest hesitation before he lets himself be pulled into the room, but the simple mess is immensely comforting.

Not a cell, not ‘resident rooms’ like his own had been, empty and with just the floor to sleep on unless you earned blankets and a pillow and there were rumors the really good trainees could earn a bed. No, this was like…

“Like a dorm room at college,” Kauri whispers, then winces at a spike of pain ricochets around inside his skull.

don’t think about that don’t remember that that never happened you made that up it’s common to have false memories after training

He shakes it off almost instantly - it’s there and gone, barely a flicker of expression before he makes himself forget he’d ever said anything.

“Are you allowed to have things for the walls?” He asks instead, his voice perfectly light and cheerful, moving forward into the room, grazing fingertips over the pile of clothes in the chair, as if considering something. “I could bring you a picture. There’s a lady down at the farmer’s market who paints, she likes me, she always says she’ll give me a painting if I ever have a place to put one.”

Cass closes his eyes, a smile creeping over his face. He can’t tell anymore if the way Kauri tilts the conversation onto easier topics is intentional or just a very well practiced habit. Either way, it's entirely sweet and a little disarming.

“You know, I’ve never asked,” he says, sweeping in close again, wrapping an arm around Kauri’s waist. “But I’d risk breaking the rules for you.”

He tilts Kauri's chin up to meet him in a kiss, and as he does he feels an unpleasant twinge of jealousy. He can't help but feel like Kauri's unfairly lucky. He knows it's not a rational thought. He knows it's not. But still.

How the fuck do you stay homeless when people seem to be tripping over to try and help you? There seem to be so many people wanting to offer Kauri small kindnesses but instead he opted to turn them all down just to stay on the streets and desolate. And Cass had fought tooth and nail for a single bed in a room without a key.

Like a college dorm room, Kauri had said, before all but flinching away from his own comment. Like a college dorm room. Cass wouldn't know would he? Had never had the chance.

“Where’d you go to college?” he asks, innocent enough. The other questions, the crueler, bitter-with-jealousy questions– were you any good? did you get kicked out? is that why you sold yourself? fucking piece of shit drop out, buried in fancy college debt? – stay at bay.

Kauri's quiet, pressing the kiss closer, deeper, burying himself in it, more aggressive now. The headache threatens if he tries to ask too many questions, the memory of drugs woozily running through his veins, hooked to a wall and forget forget forget in his head obliterating whatever poor son of a bitch had lived in his head before.

Then, finally, he pulls away and shrugs, smiling sunny and bright, deflecting, distracting. "I don't know," Kauri says, voice perfectly, carefully constructed to seem careless, isn't it so funny that I don't know, but really, who cares? "It's not important to what we're for-... what we do. Not like I could write a fucking essay to save my life anymore. Or a poem."

Another flinch, as if Kauri had tripped over something, and he shoves Cass's back against the wall with a sudden aggressive need, slipping a hand into the waistband of his pants while shifting a leg between Cass's legs, an expert move to brush against him from two directions.

"Doesn't matter."

A familiar rush of hot and cold runs through Cass' body at the answer, at the touch, at the rough push against the wall that makes him shudder with a kind of practiced thrill. Kauri knows exactly what he's doing with his hand and the bid for distraction spurs Cass on even more.

Kauri's uncomfortable. He wants distraction. Deflection. To change the subject. But Cass wants to know. Cass wants to push. "So, what? They ju - hah - just keep the slutty parts and fry the rest?"

It's getting mean. He can feel it. A backwards kind of resentment clawing under his skin, twisting his mood. He catches Kauri's lips with his own, fingers brushing under the hem of Kauri's shirt. The kiss is desperate and rough, on the borderline of bruising, and when Cass pulls away he feels a childish sort of challenge pulling at him

Kauri ignores the first question entirely, sliding his hand straight down to brush over Cass between his legs, feeling him soft but he wouldn't be for long, Kauri knew just what to do to get past this moment and his thoughts, and he likes the rough stuff as much as he ever likes tenderness.

He's trained to.

Jesus, I know I asked for a brainless slut, Kor-Bore, but this is something else. Do you even have brain cells now?

He's just started to curve around him, to stroke him back to hardness, when Cass asks, "What if I wanted a poem?"

Kauri's face flickers with hurt, an oddly naive why would you ask that considering the practiced physicality on display. Then he tilts his head, looking up at Cass, and gives him the honest fucking answer while giving his cock just enough of a roll of his palm to feel good.

"I'd tell you to go fuck yourself."

Cass knows an evasive answer when he hears one. It's not some sort of pathetic no homo-ism which would've been funny in its own right with Kauri's hand sitting where it is. It's something deeper than that. Something that hits close enough to home to hurt.

The energy in the room has shifted. Tense and pulsating. The undercurrent of something bitter. Territory Cass was more familiar with than tender kisses in alleyways.

"Seems like you're already doing that for me," he says, rolling his hips forward into the touch. He doesn't bring his hands up to touch back, to hold. It's a challenge in its own right.

How much will you still want me when I'm not acting how you want? When I'm not doing what you need?

Cass has been choked against this wall, threatened against this wall, had his head bashed into it more times than he could count. His eyes track across Kauri's face, land on his lips. He doubts the other man has anything even close to violence living in his veins, but Cass still juts out his chin, looks down at Kauri through lidded eyes. Even the thought of it sends something electric through him.

"You gonna make me sorry for asking?"

"No," Kauri answers easily enough, a short, almost curt single syllable. He can feel Cass getting hard again under his hand, and he tilts his head just a little, looking down, before he gives just enough of a squeeze to keep it interesting.

"I don't do that. I just make you stop wanting to ask."

It's an honest answer - and Kauri grabs him by the belt loops in his pants, pulling him back until they stumble to the bed and Kauri half-falls to seated with Cass standing between his legs, yanking open Cass's pants with no gentleness this time.

"Show you what parts aren't fried," Kauri mutters, half-under his breath, moving to shift his pants down and press a kiss to his stomach in the same moment.

The sound Kauri pulls out of him is more of a grunt than a moan. Cass can feel himself starting to swim. That particular territory on a night out where old restless anger hollows him out and switches on the autopilot. He tilts his head back where he stands, tangling his fingers through Kauri's curls as he closes his eyes. He breathes in.

But this is his place.

This is his fucking bed, his fucking room.

He doesn't want to drift. He doesn't want to leave.

There were two ways Cass knew that kept him attached to the ground. The easiest was a punch in the teeth. The other was harder. Sharing something to make the other person feel closer to you, and then hold onto that like a tether.

It made them like you more, made them easier to stay hooked to. It made it easier to feel what they wanted, even. To ride that wave. But it meant sharing some broken part of himself. Sometimes he lies. Usually he lies. But tonight...

"I couldn't read until I was like 17," he says, voice is low, only opening his eyes after he's said it. "The guy who taught me how also taught me how to fuck."

He traces his fingers down the curve behind Kauri's ear, along the line of his jaw, tilting his face up with a gentle hand under his chin. Cass searches blue eyes and doesn't know what for.

"I'm fried, too."

"I'm… I'm sorry." Kauri hesitates, leaning forward with his shoulders so his chin rests lightly on Cass's stomach, looking up at him. "I can't… I can't read the note from Nick because I can't read. And I can't write you a poem because I can't write, either."

He jerked Cass's pants down over his hips, to his thighs, and kissed into the flat spot just inside each hip, one on each side.

He looked back up.

"I don't know what I look like. I can't look in mirrors. You guessed it right. They fried most of me. Now please push me back on the bed and…" Hold onto me, please, just want this, too, even if it's just to fuck me, just don't make me leave with this the last thing I said "-fuck me or something if you're going to keep me talking about this."

Hearing it all come rattling has something under Cass' skin curdling a little. He doesn't usually go for tragedy. He almost regrets pushing. He almost wants to apologise. Instead he straddles Kauri's hips, knees on the mattress as he pulls the guy's shirt over his head and throws it to the side before doing the same with his own. He kisses him until he's flat on his back on the mattress.

This part is so easy. Puzzle pieces fitting together, gears slotting into place, every kind of made for this metaphor rolled into one.

"We don't have to talk."

He apologises with his tongue, with open mouthed kisses that travel down Kauri's throat to the twisted scar along his collarbone and back up. He rolls his hips into the man beneath him, unbuttons those jeans with one hand and delights in the heat of Kauri's cock as he palms him, feels him start to harden.

His own jeans practically fall off as he stands, loose from Kauri's ministrations, and he kicks them to the side before leaning forward, kissing lines down Kauri's stomach and down his hips and down his thighs as he undresses him too. He presses his cheek to Kauri's leg, planting a kiss on his inner thigh.

"Just one more question." He brushes against Kauri's hardening cock with his lips, "This?" He slips his hand under Kauri's lower back, down the curve of his arse, just barely pressing into him again, "Or this?"

Kauri hums under the attention, he loves being pressed back into the mattress, a hint of weight holding him down. It’s what he wants, what he’s for. Any anger in him drains out with every kiss - Kauri is used to apologies that aren’t spoken or that don’t happen at all.

He wouldn’t even want an apology - he has no idea how to handle them unless they’re laced with reasons that Kauri’s really the one to blame.

Kauri pushes himself up on his elbows, nerves singing, and looks down towards Cass, the shy, sincere smile on his face as he pushes himself closer to sitting up. “Um, your-... your mouth,” Kauri says, hushed, almost shocked-sounding. “Mouth, please.”

Cass holds eye contact as he smiles, running his tongue along the underside of Kauri’s cock before taking him into his mouth. He hums deep in his throat, lets his hair fall in front of his face like a curtain and lets everything else fall away completely.

He will never understand people that don’t love this; that don’t love taking another person in with your mouth, with your hands, and making them utterly melt. It was so simple. So good. Skin against skin, another person to breathe in. He didn’t have to think about anything else, he didn’t have to worry about anything else. He could lose himself in wanting them, in being wanted.

He runs his hands up Kauri’s thighs as he works at pulling delicious sounds from him, finding a rhythm with his mouth, interrupting it again with the swirling of his tongue. Kauri tastes good. He feels good. It’s good, it’s all so fucking good.

Kauri stays up on his elbows at first to watch him, taking the sight of Cass in with unadulterated, if oddly pure, joy. He’d had no idea what this felt like, beyond a sense-memory that told him he’d had one before, the first time someone he’d hooked up with had gone down on him after he ran away.

He never got tired of it - of how wonderful it was to have someone want him so much they would touch him even without taking anything for themselves. It felt so perfectly right, and he couldn’t keep the dopey smile off his face even as he had to shift and finally lay back, focusing his eyes on Cass’s ceiling, his hands sliding into his hair, running through the strands, hips moving gently up to push himself deeper, just a little.

It’s not long before his soft exhalations are full-on moans, and he tries to keep mostly quiet since there are probably other people here but he’s never really been good at that - Owen didn’t want him trained to be quiet at times like this - and he can’t help himself, moaning, “You’re so good, this is so-... fuck, so good, Cass, under the-... yeah, like th-that, just like that-... ah, you’re so so good, so nice, so nice to do this, to, to, ah, ah, ah-” He trails off into a louder sound as Cass hits just the right spot just under the head and his hips jerk, hands buried deeply in his hair, eyes wide and hardly seeing.

It feels so good. For maybe the second or third time, Kauri’s genuinely a little sad he probably won’t see this guy again.

The sounds Kauri makes are so fucking endearing. He moans like he's never had a blowjob, like he's not sure he's ever gonna have one again. Was there literally anything better than hearing someone make sounds like that? It makes it easy to enjoy, to indulge in getting him off.

Cass can’t help but laughing under his breath as he pulls off, licking long and slow along Kauri’s cock.

“Enjoying yourself, big guy?” he mutters, smiling up at Kauri’s blushing cheeks, the mass of dark curls against the sheet before swallowing him to the hilt. Maybe the only thing better than hearing someone make sounds like that was knowing you were the one that caused it.

He speeds up, moaning deep around Kauri’s cock. Hands down the best fuck Cass has had for months.

Kauri’s moans turn into something like loud, high-pitched whimpers as Cass’s throat vibrates around him with his own sounds, his fingers tightening to nearly painful in Cass’s hair and his hips jerking up harder than he intends them to, thrusting into Cass’s mouth unconsciously.

“Y-yes, you’re so-... so good, this is so good, I’m, I’m going to-... wait wait wait if you keep g-going, I’ll, I’ll, um-... I’ll-” Kauri’s body tenses all at once, and he lets out a loud cry as he tilts over the edge, coming right down Cass’s throat.

He’s barely finished before he’s trying to pull Cass back up to him, to kiss him, to tangle every single limb around him and keep them pressed together at every possible level.

Cass finds himself, not for the first time tonight, laughing into Kauri's mouth. The guy holds him like he's gonna disappear the second they're not touching, and Cass wraps his arms around his waist as he kisses him.

I'm not going anywhere. God, please keep touching me like that. I want you, I want you, I want you.

He feels love drunk and loose, even though he's still achingly hard. He rolls his hips along Kauri's thigh, chasing the gentle friction as he rocks forward and back but not reaching for more just yet. Cass doesn't want more right now. Just wants to enjoy Kauri's body warm beneath him, the tiny electric sparks he can feel under every brush off his fingers. The desperate kisses, panting breaths, those pretty sounds still sighing out of Kauri's mouth.

He plants a kiss on Kauri's cheek, reaches down to brush his hand against Kauri's cock one more time. "That was hot."

Kauri jumps a little, letting out a half-squeaked whine at the hint of touch to his already overstimulated cock, then laughs and presses against him even more, tilting his head up and back for another kiss, taking the affection as it’s given with pure gratitude for it.

“Yeah, you’re really good at it,” Kauri says, grinning. He can taste himself on Cass, and that’s a rare thing for him, this happens so rarely and it’s even more rare they want to kiss right after. “You’re so, so good. That was so good.” He can’t stop saying it, and he knows it’s stupid to repeat it over and over again, and he finally just ducks his head, tucking it under Cass’s chin, to hide his bright red flush, as much from the aftermath of orgasm as from his embarrassment.

“I like your bed,” Kauri murmurs, stretching his legs out, tangling them with Cass’s. He’d expected to be curled up on a park bench or lying under someone’s heavy weight by now. Lying like this instead - curled up with someone built more like he is, who seems to feel the same way about wanting touch - is so much better. “It’s really soft.”

Cass snorts, nearly makes a quip about razor wire bed springs and b-grade foam, but he stops himself, remembering where Kauri would've been if not here.

"You're really soft," he says instead, running his fingers in long circles along Kauri's arm, his back, down his side. He can feel his own body relaxing with the rhythm of it, with the feeling of skin on skin.

He wishes it didn't feel so good to have someone tucked into him like this and pressed against him. He wishes he wasn't like this, he wishes he wasn't so needy. There's a tension in him he never knows he's holding and it releases when someone touches him. It's like he's never really breathing when he's not being held.

"I should thank that asshole for tryna spike your drink, huh?"

Kauri actually laughs, breaths against Cass’s shoulder, hands sliding across the muscles of his back. “Or I should, I guess,” He says, ignoring the flutter of nervousness. He's too loose, right now, languid and his eyes are finding it harder and harder to open.

“Used to get drugged all th’ time, anyway,” Kauri says, his voice slightly slurred with sleepiness. “It’d jus’ feel like home.”

Cass huffs out a laugh. He reaches behind himself to tap his fingers on the bedside table, one of the bottles from the random assortment of benzos and sleeping pills rolling away as he does. "I'm outta the good stuff but help your fuckin' self."

He wonders vaguely at what point the venn diagram between Kauri's experiences and his own would start looking close to a circle. He wonders too if maybe he should worry about that. He stares up at the ceiling, hand tracing lazy shapes along Kauri's upper arm.

"Mine put it in chocolates, usually," he whispers, not even sure if Kauri's conscious enough to hear him "Or in drinks. He liked it when I'd forget."

There’s a pause, like maybe Kauri had fallen asleep, before he murmurs back, “It was in our food, th’ water, all of it. Did y’... mmmmn…” Kauri nuzzles in closer, pulling Cass as tight against him as he can get, shifting around so he can bury his feet under the blankets at the end of the bed. “... tell you it’s what you’re for?”

Cass buries his face in Kauri's hair and closes his eyes. He feels sleep tugging at him now. Making his body heavy. Pulling him down.

"Yeah," he mutters, pressing a kiss to Kauri's head "Told me I was made for it."

Kauri tries to think of a reply, but the moments lying together, the languid loose feelings of his muscles, and Cass’s warm body in the bed all work together to ensure he’s sound asleep before anything in particular comes to mind. He holds Cass tightly, and in his sleep he never rolls away, only shifts closer, twining his legs around Cass’s so their hips are flush even sleeping, as though he wants only to be touching Cass with as much of himself as he can, even fast asleep.

They’ve only been asleep for a handful of hours when the sliding door slams open. Cass sits up immediately at the sound, awake and heart pounding before Tucker even has the chance to thump the timered light back on.

“Rise and shine, Ace, we have a lot to-“ Tucker’s voice cuts off as he takes in the scene before him. He tilts his head to the side, blinks, a dangerous smile curling his mouth “What the fuck is this?”

#whump #consensual spice #consensual sex tw #referenced past noncon #conditioning #brainwashing #box boy au #whumpiary #Cass the Disaster Lad #referenced past dubcon #come get y'all spice

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little-inukag-obsessed · 4 years ago

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Never Let You Go - Pt.1

*trumpets* For you delight, I hope, the promised first complete part of the revisited version of what was originally written late for the InuKag Week. I tag @clearwillow and @hnnwnchstr for the support! *angst ahead* you are warned u.u . Good read^^

You can now find it on AO3 too!

She couldn't help the drop in her stomach when the ground started to crumble under her feet, making her feel helpless and desperate... She tried, with a final effort, to grab onto his suikan sleeve but it seemed already out of reach. A sudden roar made her blood ran cold and a chocked yell escaped her mouth:

“No!”

Kagome woke up startled, distressed, forehead covered in sweat, gasping for air. It was just a thunder. A thunder woke her up from a stupid nightmare. The rain, indeed, was pouring steadily on the wooden roof of the hut, reminding her where she actually was, that she was safe and there was nothing wrong except from that relentless shower, she thought, joking around.

The young miko-in-training, then, took a deep breath in order to calm down herself and, waiting for her sight to adjust completely to the gloom, streched out instictively a hand next to her but... there was something wrong. She find just the cold and empty sheet waiting for her. Right, Inuyasha wasn’t back home yet. Apparently, that nightmare just conveyed some rather uncomfortable vibe she couldn’t place right before falling asleep. How much she would have wanted that those walls would be enough to reassure her, as a guarantee that her nighmare upsetting scenario wouldn’t be possible, but it wasn’t the case. She found herself alone. She was feeling alone. That realization made the raven haired girl curl up under the blankets of the half empty marital futon.

It was just that Kagome was experiencing trouble sleeping without the hanyou at her side and when she finally drifted off was usually a pretty agitated slumber, like the one she had just woken up from. Deprived from his warm body, she was feeling like she couldn’t actually loosen up and thus made her uneasiness come to surface. Besides, the mattresses of that time didn’t really help either to relieve her tension, since they were essentially made of straw, still, despite all, there were always a part of the young miko from the future that reminded herself this was part of the package she had chosen. So, precisely because she was educated on the matter, Kagome shouldn’t nit-pick the situation. The point was that the outlook was substantially changed, knowing that there was no more alternative. There was no more jumping from one era to the other, to find a way to gloss over the fatigue that it implied, to find a balance between the two realities that, no matter how weird, would allow her to carry forward the responsabilities of both and find find refuge in one or the other when she was feeling the need to do it. No, now Kagome choose just one and the balance she needed to find was solely in the aspects that should regulate her new life there.

The young woman pushed aside the blankets and seated on the futon, hugging her bended legs and placing her head on her knees. Of course she was not second guessing her decision because of those mundande things, she followed her heart and she never regretted it, but there were times when she was struggling more than what she had expected. She recalled the very first days when they spent every possible moment togheter, while she was hosted by the old Kaede, the young miko in training was feeling just like a teen-girl with her boyfriend, after all she was still eighteen. When Inuyasha picked her up after the lesson with the elderly one and took her away, feeling like flying, onto his warm back, was like he was picking her up from school and was the most natural thing of all, as if the three years that took them apart never existed, as they were resuming exactly from where they were so abruplty got interrupted.

Everything encapsulated in that gesture thet, over time, embodied their wanting to be more close to one another and marked, because of that, the growth of their intimacy to the point where she didn’t even need her bike anymore; a feeling still easy to rekindle between them, like muscle memory. Echoed in her mind the remembrance of the kiss they shared on Goshinboku, where Inuyasha brought her sure that they wouldn't be bothered by anyone or the moment when he warmly whispered in her ear his marriage proposal, on a starry night, always up there. It was something the young miko didn't even feel necessary, she was just happy to be with him, but the hanyou wanted to give her the demonstration he couldn't bear to be parted from her never again and, so, she eagerly accepted, kissing him impetously, almost risking to fell off the brach. Moreover, in order to live togheter without scandalize the villagers, still very fond of those traditions even if undeniable progresses were made concerning the newfound respect for him, the two had to put together some sort of wedding ceremony nonetheless.

Kagome lied down on her side once more and stared at the empty half of the marital futon, a sigh escaping her mouth. In those moments everything seemed so easy, like she couldn't feel the weight of anything, of the radical change she would have gone through, the one she she was experiencing right now and that was scaring her a bit. The raven haired girl was feeling the pressure to live up to her own expectations and she wasn't so sure that was actually happening. Her chocolate pools shifted on her wrist, enveloped in a strip of Inuyasha's red suikan that, just two weeks prior, wrapped their hands togheter while woving their union would be unbreakble like the Inezumi fabric itself...

In the fading light of the sunset, Inuyasha picked her up on his back and in blink they were gone, with no time to waste. Being so close to him, basking into his warmth, letting the fresh air fill her lungs.... Inuyasha was making it seem effortless. Kagome would do that forever and from now on they could. An uncontainable joy spread in her heart and the brand- new wife tightened even more her hold on her husband’s neck, so much that the hanyou protested:

“Ya’ll end up choking me...!“

“Oh, sorry.” she replied, not having actually noticed how much she had held more on her grip.

“Keh,” he snapped back, but she could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

Once they arrived to their new home, their hut, for the first time Inuyasha took again his bride into his strong arms, caughting her off guard:

“What are you doing...?!”

“In that weird box with pictures in ya house once I saw a guy bring his...wife like this sayin’ it’d bring’em luck.” he replied, blushing slightly.

Kagome chuckled softly, flattered by a such regard and still not very used to be called wife by her hanyou.

“So what are you waiting for, husband?” she playfully teased him with a loving smile.

“You never change. You are still the same annoying wench.”

“You know what they say, you take the whole package.”

With a fake displeased grunt, Inuyasha resolved to cross the threshold and, once inside, he safely placed down his young miko from the future. They were finally all alone in their home. A gift from the villagers, actually, as a reward for defeating Naraku. Kagome closed the little gap between them, laying her hands on his toned chest wrapped in the Inezumi suikan. Her chocolate pools drowned in the warm amber irises of the hanyou, too lost in him. A shiver ran down her spine when Inuyasha removed with his clawed index a rebellious strand of her raven hair, lifting up her chin just a little more to meet his lips. Their gazes were locked in a spell she couldn’t break and in the state she was she wasn’t even able make a coherent thought that wasn’t about him.

“Inuyasha...” was the only word the young wife could articulate, inches from his mouth.

“Kagome...” the husky tone in his voice was undeniable.

Then their lips melted eagerly. His fangs were too much a temptation to be left aside while their kiss intensified, making their tongue dance togheter in a restless craving for each other. Breathless and flushed from it they had to, reluctanly, part.

“I love you” Kagome confessed in a whisper. Was the first time she said it to him so clearly... it was just she felt the urge to tell him straight away.

“Gimme ya hand.” Inuyasha said, still more hoarse than usual, and took it with his calloused one without ceremonies. He placed it right upon his herrating beating heart adding:

“This beats for ya, thanks to ya”.

His honeyed eyes were so deep and sincere, making her feel overwhelmed with the meaningfullness of those words. With watery eyes Kagome raised on her tiptoes and stamped a little kiss on his lips.

“How do you feel about inaugurating our new hut...?” A devious light shined in her chocolate eyes, taking the place of the tears.

Her husband replied with devious grin as well, challenging her:

“Do ya feel ready for it...?”

“Shouldn’t I?”

The young wife took her hanyou by the hand and, walking backwards, she headed to their marital futon.

All of a sudden, Kagome saw Inuyasha change expression and moving his ears frantically, like to catch to something he wasn’t sure about.

“What’s up, Inuyasha?” she asked, all at one worried.

“Something’s wrong at the village. I gotta go.”

He left her hands abruptly and added:

“Stay here.” grabbed Tessaiga, which had remained near the entrance, and jumped outside.

“Inuyasha!” She yelled at her husband from the threshold.

A clap of thunder made Kagome drift from her thoughts and, so, she turned on her back, restless, her gaze wandering in the dark, while the rain was still pouring outside.That time was an oni who was menacing to destroy crops and he just couldn't let him have his way with it. Certainly, the young wife never expected or wished that their first night togheter turned that way, still what unsettled her the most was how she let the hanyou go alone. She couldn't do anything to stop him. Like he didn't even heard her. Like she was useless. Something kept feeling off after that. The days passed and the raven haired girl was still dancing around the subject, not being able to tell him about her fears, feeling detached from him, not being able to read him anymore. To know what was in his, now, husband heart. She couldn’t even call him out on that, like she did so frequently in the past, a potential quarrel just seemed so out of place. She didn’t know how to channel her uneasiness.

Kagome decided, abruptly, to get up from the marital futon and headed towards the bamboo door of the hut, lifting it up in order to look outside at the unrelentig shower. There were no more missions, were no more uncertainty about her fate, she was there to remain. To estabilish her life as an adult. Was that what she imagined for her...?

#inukag #inukag fanfiction #angst #there you are #thank you for reading

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join-the-joywrite · 4 years ago

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Hamish & Vera soulmate au headcannons

Look at me, back on the vermish train

Okay so, you and your soulmate can communicate with each other telepathically. Most often, it's a conscious thing, you have to intend to do it. However (who doesn't love angst skjsjw) it can happen that during moments of intense fear or rage or even unfiltered joy -- so basically, overwhelmed, I guess -- you can project without even knowing.

Remember how I said I loved the idea that Vera's name isn't Vera? Yeah, we're going with that one here too. For the sake of making sure all of these in the same collection have similar facts to them, we're gonna say her name is Sophia.

Since she was like 4 or 5, Vera's been trying to talk to her soulmate. She's sure at this point that her soulmate is either deaf or dead. When Hamish is eventually capable of coherent thought, Vera tells him this. He thinks it's funny. She thinks it's rude that she had to wait so long to get some responses.

"The kids at kindergarten are being mean to me." "Tell them Sophia Stone can and will fuck them up." "You said a bad word! You thought a bad word!"

I like my childhood best friends turned lovers trope okay, so Vera and Hamish grow up "together" telling each other nearly everything.

When he's 12, Hamish realises that at this point, the age gap between them is pretty huge considering Hamish hasn't hit puberty yet while Vera's somewhere having a baby.

"Tell her I said hi." "She kicked me. I don't think she likes you." "She will."

When the little baby dies, Hamish hears nothing but Vera's choked sobs for days on end. He doesn't know what to do. He's just a kid himself -- so is she, to be honest -- but he does his best.

"I saw a shooting star. I'm sure that was her. Did you see it?" "The curtains are closed. Give her a wave from me?" "Of course, Soph."

When Vera packs up and leaves everything behind her, she leaves behind Sophia. She tells Hamish that she's changing her name but given that he refuses to stop calling her Sophia over every single name she suggests, she never actually remembers to give him her new one. Besides, Hamish knows every goddamn thing about her. As far as she cares, he can call her whatever the hell he wants.

Many many many years later, by the time Jack Morton has come to town, Vera still hasn't given Hamish her new name and Hamish has actually forgotten that she said she'd changed her name.

Chancellor Vera Stone knows that Hamish Duke is a TA at Belgrave. She wonders if that's her Hamish. Sometimes she wants to go up to him and strike a conversation. She's not sure what she's afraid of more: that he is or that he isn't.

If he isn't, then she's gone and shown affection. Besides that, she would have expectations and hopes and they'd all come crashing down.

If he is, then he's in a shitload of danger, given her position in the Order. Better to keep him unaware and safe. What he doesn't know won't hurt him.

Hamish thinks about telling his Sophia about the Knights. He never does. He'd already lost Cassie. He remembered all the times he lay awake at night, thinking about Cassie and then he would get so overwhelmed with how amazing she was, he'd eventually hear a voice in his head "SHUT THE FUCK UP SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO SLEEP"

After Cassie's death, if he thought to much about Cassie, the little voice in his head would be much more consoling and softer.

"I saw a shooting star. Do you think that was her?" "I saw two." And she would quieten, probably lost in her own thoughts about her daughter.

It was then, around the same time someone had murdered one of Vera's close friends in the Order, that they both mastered the art of keeping their thoughts to themselves. They could never let each other into the dangers and the death in their lives. They were both safer off never knowing the Knights or thr Order existed.

"Vera," Jack says several months after arriving and bringing the catalyst for a shitstorm, "this is Randall, Hamish, and Lilith. They'll try not to kill you."

Vera glares at them. The Knights of St Christopher, enemies to the Blue Rose. "I suppose I can try too."

"Well, that would be highly appreciated."

Vera wouldn't say she was an expert, but being part of a secret society that requires masks to be worn in certain circumstances, one has to have at least some level of skill in identifying voices. As the Temple Magus, it's no surprise that Vera is very good at identifying voices. And the voice that came out of that werewolf's mouth was the same one she'd been hearing in her head all her life.

Unfortunately, she didn't have the luxury of time to sit and talk about it.

Hamish doesn't notice. In his minimal defence, he's still convinced the voice in his head belongs to a Sophia.

Vera considered being the one to powder Hamish. Leader to leader. Soulmates. She won't admit it, but she chickened out. She didn't think she'd be able to do it if she looked him in the eyes without the threat of death around the corner.

Werewolf or not, Hamish was still the person she trusted most in the whole world. She was afraid that if she looked him in the eye, she'd break.

"When you hit Mr Duke with the pulveris memoriae, make sure you tell him [important stuff] and that his soulmate's name is Sophia." "Why is that important--" "are you questioning me, Medicum?" 0.0 "no, Grand Magus"

Selena wants to know why Vera knows the name of a werewolf's soulmate, but she really doesn't want to cross paths with Vera again.

"I feel like I'm missing something. I don't know what it is." "... are you wearing pants?" "You know that's not what I mean, Soph."

Guilt eats Vera up nearly every single day. He's safer this way, she tells herself. Away from the Order and all the dangers it brings.

When Lilith brews the potion to restore and protect their memories, Hamish is swarmed by every single conversation he ever had with Sophia and like a semi-trailer truck, realization strikes him.

"That bitch!" "Who?" "Uh . . . The Order." "Same"

Hamish doesn't say anything to Vera that he wouldn't normally, and he doesn't say anything to "Sophia" either.

"Bring me something in a tall glass." Hamish: oh you already fuckin know about this don't you, you little witch, I'll show you a tall glass akxnsnsb

Shenanigans ensue as Hamish tries to keep Vera and Sophia separate so that Vera doesn't figure that the Knights have their memories back.

"Hamish, who are you talking to?" "....Myself."

"Hamish, who's Sophia?" "..............no one." "Sure..."

"Mr Duke, are you talking to my floor?" Vera asks to break Hamish's concentration because she's trying very hard to reprimand Randall for something and it's not helping that Hamish's voice is in her head. "Not at all, Magus." Tight smiles as they refrain from attempting to maim each other while having a "normal" conversation in their heads.

Randall: what the fuck is all this eye sex about

OKAY BUT VERA WITH THE PROMETHEANS????

Hamish is on Foley's tail but he has to stop for a minute to catch his breath because every single moment of pain in Vera's life is screaming into the mind of every Promethean, but also his.

"Miss Dupres told me you let Foley get away earlier." "I did." "You didn't. What happened?"

Hamish wants to tell her what happened but he also doesn't want to shatter the fragile barrier between Sophia and Vera. Between the light-hearted joyous woman in his head and the broken and hardened leader in front of him.

"Nothing happened, Vera. He got away earlier. That's all."

All he wants is to hold her. For so many years, on the anniversary of the baby girl's death, he'd wished he could be there to give her a hug and hold her while she cries. Every year. And now, now she's standing right in front of him but he can't let her know. He can't let her know he knows.

Hamish watches her turn to leave. She shudders once before composing herself and starting to walk.

Fuck it.

Vera is startled when she finds herself trapped. Her first instinct is panic. Pure fear and terror. Then anger settles in because to her, as far as Hamish knows, he is a disciple of the Order. The anger barely lasts a second, though.

I saw a shooting star before I came down here. I gave her a hello from you

Vera just knows the voice was in her head and not out loud. She stands still as Hamish buries his face in her shoulder. "I miss her. Every single day. Today was . . ."

"I know."

"You know, I think she would have liked you, eventually," Vera whispers honestly. Hamish laughs. "Are you agreeing that I'm likeable? Werewolf hide and all?"

"Don't get greedy, Acolyte."

"What defines greedy, Magus? Stealing a kiss or two?"

"I'm warning you--"

No one believes the Acolyte that says she saw the Grand Magus furiously making out with one of the disciples. Well, not no one.

Randall waltzes into the den. "Guess what, Lame-ish? I heard that the teacher you've been thirsting over was seen with one of the disciples in the temple. According to the Acolyte, she--"

"Yes, I know, I was there."

"You saw them?!"

Raised eyebrow

"YOU WERE THEM????"

Mr Duke, if you say one more word to Mr Carpio, I will revoke your access to the reliquary and spread word that you got called out for being a nerd in fourth grade and your response was to recite positive synonyms for nerd to defend yourself.

Hamish snorts and won't tell Randall what was so funny.

and we have to stop here because if I go on, we'll head into angst territory and I've got too many happy vibes going on here to make it angsty without feeling sad myself.

Me: has 4 other drafts in here waiting to he completed and posted.

Also me: I'm gonna do another soulmate au set

See the other headcannons I've screamed about lately

#hamish x vera #hamish duke #vera stone #the order #the hermetic order of the blue rose #the knights of saint christopher #the knights of the blue rose #soulmate au #soulmates #please just give me the soulmate au i want #mara-writes

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sadprose-auroras · 5 years ago

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‘Incomplete’ - Ben Hardy!Walter Hartright X Female!Reader

Contains: brief mentions of controlling, objectifying gross men, kissing that gets only very slightly saucy, rambly writing style cause I got excited about plot and including as much as I could instead of making it sound coherent and nice, also it’s shorter than I expected oops sorry

Tagging my soul sister and number one supporter and fellow Walter stan @sparkly-spade-socks !! Thanks Nick for encouraging me to write this and yelling about the woman in white with me, I wouldn’t have been so inspired and deep in my feels without you xx

You were positively aching. For many reasons.

For starters, the stool you were perched upon, despite the unnecessarily extravagant layers of cream-coloured material between your body and the seat, flowing out on either side of you in the cool breeze, was uncomfortable and making it difficult to sit up straight, and still. In fact, your entire body was sore; no one person should be made to sit in the same position for so long. Although, you supposed you couldn’t complain. The portraits were being completed over five days, and today was the last. He was very thorough; you could tell he cared deeply about making your wedding portraits as near perfect as possible. But why should he care? As he told you, he was leaving the country in two days. And nobody really knew him around these parts. He was somewhat of an enigma. So a poor effort would be difficult to trace back to him. You didn’t even know where he was moving, or perhaps fleeing, to. As far as everyone else was concerned, your husband most importantly, yourself and Mr Hartright did not know each other until you hired him.

The strongest ache, however, was not of your body, but your heart. The overwhelming sensations you felt every time you glanced at him licking his lips in concentration, or his soft golden curls dancing across his forehead in the wind, or the slight crease in his forehead that you wanted nothing more than to smooth out with a gentle kiss, were enough to make your hands, clasped in your lap, shake, and your eyes to dart away. To anywhere else. The horizon in front of you, the crashing waves, the rolling mountains to your right. You found yourself thanking God for the myriad of distracting views. Though none of them could compare to the man in front of you.

“Coun- Miss Y/L/N, could you look at me please? I need to see your eyes.” His voice snapped you out of your wandering thoughts, and you gave him an apologetic smile, ignoring the way your breath hitched at your throat and your cheeks burned even more as you made direct eye contact with him. His pale green eyes bore into yours, although you knew this was just because he was painting them. Right?

“Tell me more about where you are going, Mr Hartright. If you wish to…” Your attempt to diffuse your straightforwardness and lack of consideration for politeness was ignored by him. He raised his eyebrows as he stopped painting and looked at you, a small, amused smile on his face.

“I don’t quite know yet. I will work it out, I suppose. I just need a change, I feel trapped. Do you know what I mean?” That forehead crease was back. Your stomach flipped.

“I completely understand.” Your tone was firm but wistful, as you sighed slightly and gazed back out to the horizon, a piece of your hair falling out of its clip and blowing in the wind. You ignored it, focusing on holding back the stinging tears in your eyes. It was because you knew that feeling of entrapment far too well, and Walter knew how your entire life you felt trapped. First, your Father’s control over you when your Mother died. Then, the shockingly terrifying surprise of him basically selling you to be married to a rich, well-known Count to pay off his debts when he passed away. A reminder from beyond the grave that you could never escape his objectifying wrath against his only daughter.

You had shared your troubles with the man before you years prior, when the two of you were young children running free in green fields and making up worlds, just trying to find somewhere to belong and someone to talk to. Now, he knew of the other man who was even more controlling of your agency than your Father; your husband.

In the last hours of your five day ordeal, you’d ceased your long rambles about your terribly scary life. Perhaps you realised the dangerous territory the two of you could be getting yourselves into. Just as much as you were telling him about your life and gazing longingly at him, he was doing the same.

“I’m sorry Miss Y/L/N, but I need to fix-” he interrupted the almost deafening silence, dropping his brush and pushing his sleeves up, walking towards you and bending over ever so slightly, dangerously close before you could even react. “Your-your hair is coming out…” he practically whispered, his delicately light fingers clipping the piece back in place so gently and so quickly that you barely felt it. The rest of your body certainly reacted though.

Before you could think, you brought your hand up to his lingering hand and placed it on your cheek effectively trapping his hand, and he let out the smallest of breaths in relief, swiping his thumb across your cheekbone as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. For a second, it crossed your mind that perhaps two people staring into each other’s eyes wordlessly would be uncomfortable or undesirable. Yet, you could have stayed in this position forever; your heart pounding, your hand over his trembling, as you studied every feature of his face in detail. You decided that you could write a novel about every one of those details.

“This-” he murmured breathlessly, but it was drowned in the wind. And by your lips. You felt slightly guilty for stopping him from speaking, but you couldn’t hold yourself back from kissing him a second longer. His lips were softer than you could have possibly even imagined, kissing you with a perfect mixture of hesitancy and precision that made your head spin. The gasps and sharp breaths he let out between kisses were the prettiest sounds you’d ever heard, and, although you thought it impossible, his noises made you lose even more self control; you threaded your fingers through his soft, golden curls, pulling his body against yours as you stood up so you could kiss him at a better angle. When his tongue darted out yet again, your entire body just about melted, and you were grateful for his hands on your lower back basically holding you up.

When you came up for air, not before pressing another quick, soft kiss to his pink, swollen lips, neither of you could stop the small giggles that came out at the ridiculousness of the situation. His forehead rested against yours, his thumbs now stroking your lower back through your dress (you were disappointed that you could just barely feel it).

“You appear to have got yourself tangled up in quite a complicated situation, Miss Y/LN,” he whispered, but a huge, dopey smile was plastered on his face.

“You’re one to talk, Mr Hartright,” you whispered back in the same tone, his smile matching yours. Counteracting your words, you kissed him briefly again.

“I have two requests of you.” His words caused you to raise your eyebrows in intrigue, but you stayed wrapped in each other’s arms.

“Yes?”

“Firstly, please drop the formalities… I think we’re far beyond that point. Call me Walter.”

You chuckled softly in response and nodded, the smile never once leaving your face as you now fixed a piece of his hair.

“That is very easily done, Walter.”

“Well then, Y/N, I also want to know if you’d like to come with me.” You didn’t even need for him to specify what he meant, where you would be going with him. Nor did you question for a second your response, despite all of the complications that would most likely follow you. They, in fact, did not cross your mind in that moment.

“I would love to.”

You did not know where you were going as you clasped his hand and walked giddily to the train station the next morning, wedding dress left hanging on your wardrobe door and wedding ring left on your vanity, but you had not a care in the world. Nor did Walter; even though his painting was still left perched on the easel on the hill, your wedding portrait left incomplete.

#ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fluff #the woman in white #ben hardy #walter hartright #walter hartright x reader #ben hardy smut #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody cast #borhap blurbs #ben hardy blurb #this is gonna flop which sucks cause i like it :/

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normal-thoughts-official · 4 years ago

Note

I remember reading a fic, it was bottom Alec admittedly, but one of the things that stuck with me was how it mentioned that he didn't bottom often because it was overwhelming. Which then got me thinking about autistic Alec and sensory overload and maybe that's a thing you'd find interesting and put your own spin on? I don't know.

jsbsisnsisnssjdn i love how u guys always come to me and talk about bottom alec like it's the greatest sin you've ever partaken in udbdudndudndid really its fine, i mean its not my preference or hc but to each their own

anyway! i did like this question a lot and i tried to think a little about how autism and kink might intersect for alec specifically

tbh idk if i can give a good take on that because- im a bottom, so jdndudbdidnd. i mean of course I've topped but i think it's fundamentally different to top when thats something that you actually enjoy. like not that i dread topping and just the thought of it makes me cry or something but the pleasure i derive from it is...... way less. and more focused on the other parts of it that arent the act of topping itself

so due to that, i dont really know how topping, like, feels? if it's something that actively gets u hot and that u find enjoyable. so idk if bottoming is truly more overwhelming than topping, like. one of my partners is a Top™ and i think he gets as lost in topping as i get in bottoming, its exciting for him, just thinking about it Does Things to him you know xD and admittedly this partner in particular is a very intense person, with everything, but either way he does seem to feel topping and sex as a top and the pleasure he gets from that very intensely, so idk if it would be accurate to say that bottoming is more overwhelming. i think it depends on a lot of things, including the kind of play ur into - like if ur into denial or overstimulation and the such, definitely, but u dont necessarily are into them just because ur a bottom or even a sub (which, u know, are different things)

and my partners who are verses/switches say that it's different but not really more or less intense. just different

but definitely as a dom you get more control of the sensations, at least touch-wise (not much you can really do about noise, smell etc) so there's that. i also think that for autistic ppl theres frequently that feeling of not having a lot of control over ur life and how ur perceived, understood, etc, so domming can get particularly interesting/pleasurable in that sense. on the other hand, there's also the relief of subbing and getting clear instructions and just completely focusing on the tasks u have. or maybe that's my sub agenda. idk

either way i think being autistic wouldnt really sway anyone in either direction (being kinky or not, top or bottom, sub or dom, being into specific kinks etc) but im not an expert, maybe im wrong lol

but well, if you wanna talk specifically about autistic alec who also happens to be a dom/top and how he experiences that, a few things i think could be interesting:

domspace and hyperfocus: like because everything is so intense, the two can feel kind of similar? you know you get into domspace and it’s like, everything is so centered in the moment, but in like the best way possible? i imagine that for him reaching domspace is kind of even more intense than usual (not in a like... Lost In The Sauce way, where he can’t be aware properly, but it’s just, it’s extra good and it makes him feel grounded and present and like the noise in his head shuts up? he’s just focused on pleasuring his sub everything else kind of melts away and it’s basically just that. great intense pleasure and almost calm feeling, you know? i mean again i’m not a dom but. it’s what i imagine/have heard it feels like i guess)

sensorial issues: adjacent to last one i guess but just like reaching domspace and domming and the pleasure he derives from it kind of muffles the sensorial issues? again because he’s so focused and like, immersed in the feeling it all kind of disappears. also i mean, sex includes a lot of movement so yay to that! especially as i dom i think, if bondage for example is involved. and even if there’s like, a lot of touch and noise and stuff (again, magnus Screams) he kinda has control (again, especially as a dom) of how much stimuli there is and he gets and the fact that he derives pleasure from the noises, touches, etc kind of helps muffle them, if that makes sense? because the inside feelings overpower the outside feelings lmao and it’s like that sensation of floating and domspace and shit makes the actual physical sensations less acute sometimes. at least as a sub i do feel that way sometimes, like the pleasure gets so psychological and great i can’t really feel sensations, just the pleasure itself? so it’s like, id have to focus to be able to tell where exactly my partner is touching me, all i know is that it Feels Very Good. idk if that makes sense, it’s hard to put in words

feeling in control: i mean i feel like alec feels like he doesn’t have a lot of control over his life (look i know that he’s now in a position of power but even then, like, he’s always having to fight the people above them, you know? and he’s questioned at every damn minute because of his relationship. and for most of his life, he was trained to be a pawn, to the clave and to his parents, and hell, he couldn’t even control who he would marry. most of the time alec is fighting tooth and nail to be listened to, he doesn’t really get easy obedience and i definitely don’t think that he feels like he has a lot of control most of the time, which is why being a dom appeals to him, too. don’t get me wrong i’m not saying he isn’t damn competent and important because if he weren’t he wouldn’t have gotten where he is right now, but he’s not really in a position where everything is in his hands. especially with how much he has to endure and swallow up in his life. i see a lot of meta that’s like “alec’s a sub because he needs to let go of the control” and stuff, and while again, to each their own, i feel like this argument doesn’t really hold up when you look at how much he has to fight to be listened to, and that’s why it’s very appealing to have someone just, obey, and feel like the world is in the palm of his hands, not slipping away? that’s a very long parenthesis. and like not that you need to have a Very Deep Psychological Reason to be into kink but usually those things are linked in some sort of way). and the fact that he’s autistic plays into this, because so much of what he feels just has to be overlooked? he’s always having so suppress and/or deal with overload and the frustration of having to follow a bunch of random social rules and expectations and speak a thousand different languages into one (like body language, facial expressions, etc) and it’s like he always has to be grabbing everything by the seams. plus, obviously, he likes routine and method and predictability. so being a dom, being in control of what happens, being obeyed, knowing exactly what will happen during the scene, having the time to plan it and flesh it out, it just feels particularly good and grounding for him?

and like again im not saying that “wow autistic people are doms” or anything, just talking about how these things might intersect in his personal experience, considering his desires and the specifics of his life, his autism and etc

idk i feel like this answer wasn’t very coherent, or interesting, or good, but it’s what i have to offer fuahfiah thank you for this question tho, it was really nice for me to think about

#ask #anonymous #sh #shadowhunters #alec lightwood #dom alec lightwood #top alec lightwood #autistic alec lightwood #malec #dirty mention #dirty words #q

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blue-lions-baby · 5 years ago

Text

After Hours (F!Byleth x Dimitri)

(a/n) hi so this is my first time writing a dimileth fanfic! i do apologize if he (or any other character, for that matter) is a bit out of character though ^^’. please enjoy!

*this takes place pre-time skip

~*~

Dimitri brandished the wooden lance that he gripped with monstrous ferocity as he lunged forward, flying at the enemy he construed in his head. His ankle twisted slightly and he sharply exhaled through gritted teeth; that would swell up for sure.

“No matter!” He thought to himself. “If this were the real thing, I wouldn’t have time to check on a mere sprain. Again!”

He gave another thrust, the tip of his spear cutting only the empty space that surrounded him. He could see the enemy coming from all sides-- they were closing in on him! Cooly, he flicked his arm to and fro, moving his arm with such ruthless vigor he could almost feel their metal armor denting and splintering under his supernatural strength. He rolled to the left, backstepped, jumped to the right, and finally swung his whole body a complete 180 to finish off the rogue sneaking up behind him. However, in place of the rogue he saw his belov-- er... His professor.

“O-Oh, uh, Professor! What are you doing here so late at night?”

Byleth did not respond at first, simply gazing at him with that same indifferent expression pretty much plastered on her face at all times.

“You lean forward too much.” She said abruptly.

“... I beg your pardon?”

“When you lunge like that, you can spear right through whoever’s in front of you, yes. But you lose your center of balance doing so.” She motioned slightly to Dimitri’s ankle. She saw that too?

“I... suppose you’re right.” The slightly baffled prince muttered. Byleth reached out her hand.

“May I?”

“O-Of course.”

Dimitri handed her the lance; sometime during this exchange though, his fingers accidentally grazed the calloused part of her knuckles. A shock jolted from the point of contact throughout the rest of his body and he quickly stepped back, silently cursing himself for almost losing his composure over the mere action of grazing against her skin.

“Now then,” Byleth got into a fighting stance, “the trick is to extend your arm like this. Don’t work for your weapon. Make it work for you. You tell it where to go, who and how to cut, and it will do it for you. But you have to make sure you do it properly, or else you will put yourself or others at risk.”

Dimitri stroked his chin and nodded deeply, pondering over his teacher’s advice with great thought.

“I see now. Thank you, Professor. You’re as helpful as always.”

Byleth handed him his lance (admittedly, the prince was a tad disappointed when their fingers didn’t touch) and instructed him to run some drills. Byleth took a few steps back and commenced his private training.

“Not quite. Stretch it like this, see?”

“Once more, Dimitri.”

“Again.”

Several grueling minutes ticked by and Dimitri could feel his limit was nigh. Both his arms screamed and pleaded for rest, and his shoulder cricked and popped every time he lifted his spear higher than his waist. The ankle that he sprained earlier had come back to haunt him; every plunge, every sidestep aggravated his injury further and he could only pray to the Goddess that he didn’t seriously injure it at this point.

The poor prince was worked to the bone and, pushed beyond his threshold, perceived his professor’s quiet grunt of approval as nothing short of the herald of angels announcing his salvation. With the grace of a goose with two left feet, he buckled and collapsed to the left of Byleth.

“Are you okay, Dimitri?”

One large gasp for air later, he flashed her a courteous smile and waved her off.

“I-I’m... fine... just a-a bit... winded...”

Byleth giggled and-- wait, giggled? Did he just hear his companion... laugh? With his pulse’s thumps roaring in his ears, perhaps he mistook a grunt or hum as a breathy chortle. He couldn’t truly be certain but...

He sloppily ran his hand through his dripping locks and cast a sideglance at his normally expressionless teacher who, much to his shock, was staring right at him with the softest eyes he’d ever seen on a woman. His breath snagged in his throat and his heart felt like it was about to burst.

Those frigid, ocean-blue eyes whose unintentionally sharp glares could pierce through steel beheld warmth and tenderness that rivaled even the nurturing glow of the sun. The torches strewn about the room cast a gentle glow on her features, softening the typically taut blankness that became the hallmark of her character into something... caring, and downright--

“Beautiful...” Dimitri whispered lucidly.

“Pardon?”

“Huh?” Then it hit him like a brick. He cursed at how pale his skin was, for the slightest flush or blush could easily be read as a giant, red banner, practically screaming, ‘Hey! Look how embarrassed I am! I am very much overwhelmed, which is why my cheeks are as red as a beet!’

“I-- Um--” While Dimitri fumbled for anything coherent, Byleth only stared at him with empty, hollow eyes. Hoping (and trying to believe with all his might) that his professor didn’t hear his accidental blip, he was able to grasp enough of his scattered thoughts to form a comprehensible sentence.

“The night!” He exclaimed, almost too excitedly. “The night is, er, beautiful...”

Not as comprehensible as he was hoping it to be. Byleth’s brows twitched and furrowed deeply; she nodded slowly and averted her gaze towards the floor.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

At this point, Dimitri was praying to the Goddess to have pity on him and his social blunders, begging for her to just open up the Earth and swallow him from where he sat. He cleared his throat and thumbed the surface of his lance. A weird silence filled the room; it wasn’t awkward, no, but it wasn’t comfortable either. Dimitri was practically itching for some noise to fill the void, but he wasn’t expecting much out of his stoic companion.

“Dimitri.” Byleth began. If Dimitri wasn’t half-dead from training, he’d have jumped right out of his skin no doubt.

“Yes, Professor?” He managed to get out.

“It’s not like you to be out past curfew. Why are you up so late?” She asked him, her voice barely above a whisper. Dimitri turned to meet her face, but her gaze was transfixed to the opposite side of the room. Dimitri let out a small sigh and stared ahead.

“Well, I can ask you the same thing, Professor. What are you doing, roaming the academy grounds after dark?”

Byleth remained silent; a worrying sensation started bogging down his thoughts. Perhaps he had overstepped his bounds as a student? What his professor did in her spare time should be of no concern to him. Besides, she could just be patrolling the grounds for rebellious students like him, sneaking off after curfew. Goddess, what was he--

“I,” Byleth started slowly, “couldn’t sleep.”

Dimitri paused for a moment, then let out a hoarse chuckle. His head lazily lolled back as he entered a staring contest with the cracked and weathered ceiling above them.

“Heh. I suppose that makes the two of us.”

Byleth turned to him but this time, it was he that was looking away. His eyes fluttered shut and he rolled his head forward.

“I’ve had a lot on my mind these past few weeks.” He continued tactfully. Although he wasn’t looking directly at her, he could see her head bob up and down thoughtfully; a nod in quiet understanding.

“Is everything all right?” She inquired further. Dimitri’s cheeks flushed red and his heart quickened, adrenaline soaking into his bloodstream. The walls guarding his heart hardened as he flipped and dissected that simple question over and over in his head. He must be careful now.

“Yes.” He said at last. “No need to trouble yourself over such trivial matters.”

“Well, if it’s bothering my student to the point where he’s losing sleep, then surely it must be of great importance.” She replied gently, shifting a hair closer to the male. Dimitri made no sound, no motion, as he found no quip to her insightful remark.

“Really, it is of no cause for concern.” He reassured her while also trying to reassure himself. He could feel the blood surging to his temples, transforming the steady, war drum-like poundings into fitful, uneven patterings of a snare drum. “Please... Let’s move on from this topic.”

“Dimitri--”

“For Goddess’ sake, just drop it already!” Dimitri roared, shooting up like a madman. His demented eyes swam fiercely and a certain streak of bloodlust glinted his darkening hues.

It felt like someone was trying to split his head open with a mallet; the voices he’s been trying to bury deep, deep within him leaked out of the cracks of his slowly chipping sanity. He buried his head in his hands and fell backward onto a rack of equipment, strewing the wooden and rusty training weapons all over the floor.

Stop.

“You must avenge us, Dimitri.”

I will, just please stop!

“Never forget the Tragedy of Duscur, Dimitri!”

I won’t! Please--

I’ll-- I’ll--

“Kill the filthy vermins that killed us!!!”

“Dimitri!”

“WHAT?!”

Smack!

Stinging, painful, numbing, stinging... Stinging...

“Dimitri!” Byleth locked either hand on his shoulders and shook the dazed man as hard as she could. “Get a hold of yourself! Dimitri!”

His eyes were still swimming. Swimming, swimming in a sea of madness and fury. The coolness of his bright icy eyes was melting with malice and hate; the rest of his countenance darkened as quickly as his spiraling descent into rabid rage. In a blind effort to save him-- her most cherished pupil, her trustful confidante, her anchor in the storm-- she pulled him into a tight embrace and soothed his unkempt locks like a forlorn lover would her quickly expiring partner.

She brought her lips closer to his ear and shushed softly, steadily rocking him away from the teetering edge of insanity to the security and warmth of her arms. She ran and dug her knuckles into his back, easing the tension out of knots woven too tightly from untold burdens. While she busied her hands, she purred sweet, little tunes Jeralt used to hum to her as a baby whenever she started fussing. Although she wasn’t very confident in her singing abilities, she could only hope her mediocre voice would reach the heart of the one she held dearest in her soul.

Slowly, slowly, slowly, his breathing slackened to a more regular rhythm. His eyes lost their fitful glower and took up an empty, passive gaze into nothingness. His palpating heart was the last to return to normal, but when it did, it beat in heartfelt unison with Byleth-- the woman whose locked arms shielded him from the ensnaring, grasping hands of his inner demons.

He melted into his Professor’s loving touches, reveling at how good her knuckles felt as they probed small circles into his back, how her digits patiently untangled every sweaty knot in his matted hair. And lastly, her voice. Goddess, her voice. It fluttered along the fluctuating notes with the clarity and sweetness of a bird, whose first chirp introduced the prelude of springtime.

Suddenly she stopped, pulling away just enough to look at him completely.

“Do you feel better now?”

“I...” He slumped forward and nestled his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her crisp, clean scent. “I’m so... I’m sorry... I’m so sorry, Professor, I...”

He clenched his jaw to muffle his sobs, but he could not hide the wet properties of his tears. She skimmed her fingers along the length of his back, up, down, up, down... Once again, Dimitri was placed right back under his beloved’s soothing hexes and he eventually quieted down. Byleth tucked some loose strands behind his ear and paused for a moment, thinking carefully of what she was going to say.

“I’m sorry.”

“...Unh?”

“I’m sorry for pushing you like that. I shouldn’t have forced you to open up if you weren’t comfortable, so... I’m sorry.”

“... No.” Dimitri pulled away and-- in an act of newfound bravery or long-dormant foolishness, he knew not-- reached up and cupped Byleth’s warm cheek with his hand. “It is not your fault, I... You were just trying to help. I appreciate it, truly.”

Dimitri did not fully realize where his hand was until he felt Byleth nestle her cheek further into his palm. The prince’s breath snagged in his throat and his chest ached pleadingly-- longingly-- to hold her forever in his arms. Curse this student-professor relation! If only he’d have met her after he graduated when he was free from the prying eyes of his peers and probing professors.

But... He was a prince. He was Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, crown prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerhgus. Would he ever truly be free to love someone like her? Byleth was placid, cool, and resourceful. She possessed extraordinary tactical abilities, her military wisdom rivaling battle-weathered veterans who were twice her age. She was also a mercenary... A sword-for-hire. Granted, a mercenary-turned-professor, but she was not of noble birth. Her lineage wasn’t embellished with decorated war veterans nor did it contain traces of aristocracy (as far as he knew, though Byleth was probably uncertain herself). But... He loved her. Goddess, he loved her. He has never loved a woman so much in his life. Not like this, at least.

Byleth’s pleased sigh interrupted Dimitri’s soliloquy and he froze, stiff realization slowly dawning on him. Before he had a chance to pull away in the name of proper social conduct, the clattering sound of boots against cobblestones hurriedly making their way towards them sent both of them in a frenzy. In a flurry of tangled limbs, they were up on their feet just before Seteth came tumbling in.

“Professor! What are you doing here with Prince Dimitri? And why are all the weapons scattered about?!” He exclaimed, clearly out of breath. Byleth opened her mouth to speak, but Seteth waved her off. “Never mind that. Lady Rhea needs to speak with you immediately. Please escort the prince back to his room before you come. I have to find Catherine as well...”

And as quickly as he appeared he was gone, melting into the thick, dark veil of night.

An air of stiffness settled in the room, and either party refused to meet the other’s eye. Dimitri scooted away and proceeded to pick up and mount all the weapons he had disheveled in his delirium. Byleth remained immobile, staring deeply at the ground in ponderous thought. Dimitri’s own thoughts were put on hold as his hands neatly filed the weapons back into place without much cognition.

“Shall we go, Professor?” He asked, quickly double-checking to make sure everything was in tidy order.

“.. Yes.” There was a second-long delay in her response that would have been imperceptible to anyone else, but definitely not to the already on-edge prince. He nodded curtly and proceeded to follow his professor out of the training room. A ghastly wind howled down the corridors as they walked, and Dimitri felt a ghostly chill slink down his spine. He glimpsed over at Byleth, who still remained unfazed as ever. Dimitri wrung his hands restlessly and cleared his throat.

“Er... Professor...?”

“Mn?”

“About what happened earlier...” Dimitri paused, waited for Byleth to give her input on the matter, but continued when she said nothing. “I’d like to deeply apologize for my behavior tonight. It was grossly inappropriate of me and... It will not happen again.”

Dimitri’s heart quivered painfully at the last phrase and he looked down; Byleth glanced the other way, hoping to hide the sorrowful glisten in her eyes.

“It’s okay. Are you feeling better now?” She asked, continuing to stare at the wall.

“Yes, tons! You have truly helped me-- us, a lot, both in and out of the classroom. I think I can speak for all of my peers when I say that we sincerely appreciate everything that you’ve done for us.”

“O-Oh,” A hot blush crept onto Byleth’s cheeks, “thank you, Dimitri.”

The young prince stole a quick peek at the shorter woman and his heart nearly burst out of his chest when he saw a faint pink dusting her face.

“Oh? Professor, is that a blush I see?”

“D-Dimitri..” Byleth buried her face in her palms while Dimitri let out a hearty laugh. Alas, before long the duo found themselves in front of the Kingdom royal’s door.

“Thank you for escorting me back to my room... And also for that impromptu training session.” And... for reeling me out of the depths of madness.

Byleth shook her head. “It was nothing. Have a good night, Dimitri.”

She turned to leave and her figure quickly disappeared into the lightless hallway.

No, wait... Professor, please--

“Don’t go...” Dimitri’s heart sank to the floor and he immediately wanted to cast himself into the sea. That wasn’t supposed to come out. That wasn’t supposed to come out. That wasn’t supposed to come ou-- Oh Goddess, now she’s walking back!

“Pardon? I didn’t get that...”

“N-Nothing!” The top part of Dimitri’s body practically flew down in a deep, quick bow. “Goodnight my lo-- uh, Professor!”

Before Byleth could even blink, the wood of Dimitri’s door was all that was left of the prince, along with the loud bang that typically followed doors that were unceremoniously shut. She heard some students-- who were most likely rudely awoken by Dimitri’s door-- rustling in their rooms; Byleth scurried down the long hallway. It probably wouldn’t look too great on her part to be caught hanging around student dormitories at such a bizarre hour.

As she jogged out of the building and into the courtyard, she glanced up at the breathtaking nightly landscape of Garreg Mach. She cherished this moment, this academy, these students, and her fellow professors more than she ever thought she could. An image of Dimitri bubbled to the forefront of her mind and she let out a small giggle-- a rarity for the Ashen Demon.

“Goodnight, Dimi.”

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #fe3h dimitri #dimileth #dimitri x byleth #byleth #fe3h #dimitri fire emblem

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heavens-bookshop · 5 years ago

Text

Dreading the winter’s near

I had what you might call a Crappy Week. So I did the healthy thing and PROJECTED ONTO FICTIONAL CHARACTERS. I’m sorry, Crowley.

(Read this on AO3)

The day was typical of British winter; grey, windy, and misting with an annoying drizzle that didn't quite want to commit to proper rain. Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets and pulled his elbows in close, trying to curl up as much as was physically possible while still being able to walk upright. He dodged an unruly umbrella attempting to capitalise on a sudden chill gust and make a bid for freedom from its owner's grasp. The cold wind stuck to him like wet paper, and he glared furiously at the rain-slick pavement, trying his level best to ignore how stiff his joints were becoming. Someone help him, how he hated this time of year.

A black cab sped past, interrupting his self-pitying train of thought with a splash of freezing water from a puddle on the road. It drenched his lower half right the way through. Crowley swore in a language that hadn't been heard by human ears in a millennium or so, and - with a bit of careful concentration - made certain that the driver would be late for every conceivable occasion for the next five years. Muttering angrily to himself, he rounded a corner and blustered into the familiar comfort of the bookshop, startling the curly-haired angel fussing over a shelf in the corner.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale exclaimed. "Oh you poor thing, you look absolutely wretched."

"Thanks," Crowley said through his teeth. He stormed over to the back room - or at least, he tried. The squelching of his soaked feet was not particularly conducive to a dramatic exit.

"I'm sorry, my dear," Aziraphale's voice said behind him. "I didn't mean anything by it, I was just concerned. Here, allow me."

There was a snap of fingers, and the air around Crowley rippled with angelic power, like the faintest caress of sunlight. Just like that, he was completely dry. He turned around to look at Aziraphale, who was standing a few paces away, smiling hopefully. He wanted to feel better, but something about the act of kindness, about the fondness pouring out of Aziraphale's expression, rubbed against him painfully. He took a breath to quell the momentary anger that had flared up in his chest, and huffed it out forcefully.

"I'm going to have a lie down."

"Alright," Aziraphale replied. "Can I get you anything? A hot drink, perhaps?"

Aziraphale was fiddling nervously with his hands now, and it made Crowley's heart twist uncomfortably. It wasn’t the angel’s fault he was in agony. He started heading towards the back room again.

"M'fine."

The old sofa in the back of the shop welcomed him into its plush embrace as he flopped into it face first. Aziraphale had not followed him, and from the sound of it, had gone back to rummaging through whatever collection of books had previously caught his attention. He had probably decided to give Crowley some space, and that made his stomach churn with guilt.

The cold was still clinging to his body, seeping into his bones and biting at his fingers and toes. It drained all the energy out of him, leaving nothing but a hollow sadness. Winter always got to him; turned his body into a heavy aching lump, made him need to seek out warmth. A blunt reminder of his true self. No matter how much had changed in the last few months - saving the world, tricking Heaven and Hell, being free to love, really unabashedly bloody love, Aziraphale - he couldn't escape what he really was. What he always would be.

He sighed heavily, his eyelids drooping shut. All his thoughts had turned hazy, he couldn't even remember what he was upset about anymore. Trying to think about it was like trying to run through molasses. Probably best not to think anymore, then. His body was desperate to drift into nothingness, to escape the dull aching pain by retreating into oblivion. Crowley relented, and let himself sink into a deep sleep.

It was some time later - he wasn't sure how much later - that the murmur of a voice pierced through the darkness. It took a tremendous amount of effort to make his brain turn the sound into coherent words.

"--ley? Crowley, I wondered if you might want to go somewhere for dinner."

A gentle hand cradled his face. His every instinct wanted to coil around it, soak up every ounce of warmth radiating from the soft skin, but it immediately withdrew, leaving him bereft.

"Goodness, you're like a block of ice. Darling, are you alright? Crowley?"

He wanted to say something, but his body had turned to stone. The hand returned to his cheek and he was desperate for that warmth to envelope him completely.

"Crowley? Oh my dear, please talk to me…"

He tried to hold onto the voice but it was like grasping at smoke. It faded away, and Crowley slipped back over the precipice into unconsciousness.

Everything was black for a long while.

After a time, the darkness began to dissolve away. He was floating up from the depths of the ocean, caught by a gentle upwelling. The world became lighter and lighter until he finally, silently, broke through the surface. He was somewhere quiet, and there was a very pleasant warmth on his stomach. The faint noise of traffic hung in the air and, occasionally, he could hear a rustling at his side. As his mind unfogged, he began registering other sensations. He was surrounded by something soft. Cushions; but not just under his head, they'd been wedged all around him. There was a pile of blankets on top of him. Most of all, an overwhelming feeling of tranquility permeated his entire being.

At last, he groggily opened his eyes. It was brighter than usual - no sunglasses, then. He was staring at a familiar, slightly damp-stained, ceiling. So, he was in the bedroom above the bookshop. With great effort, he turned his head slightly to the side to find Aziraphale sitting next to him on the bed, feet up and reading a book. The dim light of a lamp caught the outline of his face, and Crowley longed to reach out a hand and stroke it.

"Azzurraf?"

He scowled at his mouth's attempt at talking. Aziraphale's head snapped towards him and he slammed his book shut.

"Crowley," he breathed. He discarded the book carelessly (much to Crowley's surprise) and cupped those soft wonderful hands around his face. "Oh, you're awake, thank goodness."

He pressed a kiss into his forehead and sighed.

"I wasn't sure if you were coming back to me," he said into his auburn locks.

Crowley tried to form a coherent thought but it felt like his head was stuffed with cotton wool.

"Whuh?" he asked eloquently.

Aziraphale pulled back to look at him, his eyes twinkling with wetness.

"I found you completely lifeless on the sofa, cold as anything. And nothing seemed to rouse you, I had no clue what had happened to you."

The pain in Aziraphale's voice tugged at something in Crowley's chest. With a groan, he tried to prop himself up, but his limbs evidently had other plans. Aziraphale noticed his floundering, and hooked a hand under his shoulder to help him sit up slightly. He blinked once, twice, trying to banish the cloudiness from his mind. The warmth on his stomach slid down to his side, and he was vaguely aware that it was in fact a hot water bottle.

"How… long was I…" He forced his mouth to wrap around the words.

"Four days," Aziraphale said, watching him like he might shatter at any moment.

Crowley winced. How careless of him... it was a long time since he'd been knocked out that hard.

"Ah… sorry, angel."

"Sorry?" Aziraphale repeated, incredulous. "What on Earth are you apologising for? Crowley, what happened?"

He turned his head away from him, unable to face the concerned expression in the angel's stormy blue eyes.

"I'm a snake, Aziraphale," he said with more venom than he'd really intended. "Cold gets to me."

"Oh," came the reply. "Why haven't I ever seen you this way before?"

"Because," Crowley sighed, "usually I'm better about keeping warm, and usually I…" The words stuck in his mouth, and he wasn't sure if it was his body or his nerves failing him. "Usually I deal with it myself."

Aziraphale reached out and squeezed his upper arm.

"But you don't have to deal with it by yourself anymore. Why wouldn't you tell me about this? I could have made sure you kept yourself warm."

"Didn't want to be any trouble," Crowley mumbled.

"My dear, it's no trouble to make accommodations for you. I want to share these things, you're an important part of my life."

Crowley screwed up his face and flopped over onto his side.

"I just… I would rather you not see those parts of me," he said, voice muffled into the cushions. "I'm afraid you'll remember what I am and decide that… you don't love me anymore."

Aziraphale was silent for a moment. Just as Crowley was starting to wish he was catatonic again, the angel laid himself down, head resting inches from his.

"My dear Crowley," he said with so much fondness that Crowley could feel his heart breaking open. "I've known what you are for thousands of years now. You are a kind soul with a good heart and an extraordinary mind. No amount of yellow eyes, or forked tongues, or cold-blooded tendencies will ever convince me otherwise." He reached out and ran the back of his hand on the demon's cheek. "Oh Crowley, please don't think that I love you in spite of what you are, that's simply not true."

Crowley buried his face deeper into the cushions as tears prickled his eyes. Aziraphale tangled his fingers through his hair, gently scratching the back of his head with manicured nails.

"Crowley?"

"Mmmph."

"Crowley, look at me please."

He slowly turned his head and Aziraphale's beaming face came into view. It made his insides turn into a puddle.

"I love you, all of you."

Crowley felt a small fragile smile form on his features.

"Guess there's no getting rid of you now, hm?"

Aziraphale laughed and it was like spring sunshine dispelling the rain.

"I'm afraid not, dear."

Crowley let Aziraphale gather him up into his arms, and huddled into the angel's soft frame.

"You know," Crowley said, smiling into Aziraphale's waistcoat. "Most effective way to warm up is sharing body heat."

"Is that so?"

A quick miracle replaced Aziraphale's clothes with soft terrycloth tartan pyjamas, and after a bit of shuffling and rearranging of cushions, he'd joined Crowley underneath the pile of blankets. The two of them cuddled up together, Aziraphale entwining his arms about Crowley's waist, and Crowley nestling his face in the crook of Aziraphale's neck.

"Better?" he asked.

"Much," Crowley said, soaking up the warmth from the angel's skin.

"In all seriousness, though, what can I do to ensure you don't end up like that again?"

Crowley sighed contentedly, feeling sleep start to curl around the edges of his consciousness.

"Got a heat lamp in m'flat. Sit under that for a bit."

"Oh!" Aziraphale said. "Well, perhaps we could get one for the bookshop, we could keep it in the back room. Maybe next to the sofa."

"Mmm," Crowley murmured sleepily.

"I could take up knitting."

Crowley opened an eye.

"Not necessary."

“Oh but I could make you a hat! And a scarf."

"No."

"And a lovely pullover!"

"Please stop."

Aziraphale gently stroked at Crowley's side with his thumb, and he melted further into the angel's chest.

"I could make one for myself, and then we'd match."

"Angel, I swear on my life I will take you that Michelin star restaurant you've been blathering on about for months, if you just shut up right now."

That, of course, only had the effect of starting Aziraphale on a rambling tangent about haute cuisine. Crowley let his eyes fall shut again, listening to the steady beat of the angel's heart as he lay against his chest. As he drifted off to a much more pleasant sleep, cocooned in the warm embrace, he supposed they might not need a heat lamp after all.

#my fics #good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #what is the point of creative endeavours if you can't project a little from time to time

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