#despite their intensely rocky start

[doortotomorrow]

cooper and lucy - leaving together

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

goes without saying, but Soap is the first one to use you as a sex toy.

Oh? 👀

oh yes. (˵ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°˵)

as mentioned before, Soap is enthralled with you--so small, so grabbable, so expressive. so responsive.

his mind veers into the gutter real quick after he first starts playing with (tormenting) you.

you don't quite understand just how much you're teasing him by slipping out of his hands when he's so fixated. the more you dart away, the hotter his blood runs. he just wants to hunt you down and bully you into submission <3

once you realize he's just curious--he's not going to bite you every time he chases you (just prone to a nibble here and there, honest)--you begin to enjoy being the object of his hunts. it's sport. it's tag, with his claws brushing your tail fins and making your heart leap every time you dart just out of reach. you find yourself laughing and shouting, heady on adrenaline. but it's thrilling in a primal way, too. cathartic. escaping his pursuit indulges your overactive fight-or-flight reflex.

but your every narrow escape just makes him want to catch you more.

he lives for the hunt. practically salivates each time he steals glimpses of your pretty tail flashing like a silver dart through the bright nooks of the reef. you're so slippery, so agile. you're dimly aware of the instincts you must be stirring in him--the way you're making him want to pin you down and touch you like he really wants to touch you. long after this game has become a silly little pastime to blow off steam for you, he dwells on the feeling of your skin in his hands.

so don't be shocked when he starts indulging his baser instincts as he catches you.

⬇ nsfw, overt predator/prey dynamics, domination of a willing reader ⬇

more and more, this game of yours ends with Soap pinning you, his rough hands pressing you against the rocky surface and holding you in place. his claws press dangerous divots into your skin. his hips find yours, and he ruts against you shamelessly on the seafloor, against the reef, wherever he happens to catch you. he's not penetrating you, but the intensity of his need makes you gasp and squirm. that only riles him up further and triggers his drive to really mate you.

his jaws close instinctively onto your shoulder, your back--whatever he can reach. there's not enough of you to feed him the way he craves you. he's in a state of near-frenzy, driven by the animal part of his brain.

your animal brain responds in kind. he can smell the arousal on you. and despite how much he seems to like you just as much when you squirm, you're happy to go docile in his hands so he can have you this way. it's not like he's actually mating you. just rutting against you, seeking release.

you're just happy to be included. you're elated, actually, to feel the sheer size of his arousal as he rubs himself against you.

his teeth close on your shoulder again, his hips snap against yours, and he loses himself to feral need. with a sharp thrust, he spends himself against you.

despite these debauched ends to your games, you still evade his attempts to take you back to his sleeping place. you always sleep next to Price, and it drives Soap crazy.

keep teasing him like this and it'll drive him to mate you regardless. he doesn't care who sees <3

...

more mer au / more Soap / masterlist tag

[leftoverpages]

Whispers of the Waves

Pairing ✦ Qimir x reader

Tags ✦ romance, LONGING, just kiss you idiots.. reader uses she/her

Notes: do i have a lot of fics to post? yes. do i still write new ones? yes! I might have to start posting 2 times a day just to catch up

Wordcount ✦ 1.1k

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the restless waves of the ocean. Qimir stood on the rocky shore, his gaze fixed on the shifting waters. This remote corner of the galaxy was far removed from bustling cities and starports, offering a rare moment of solitude amidst his relentless quest for knowledge and understanding.

Emerging from the distance, you appeared like a silhouette against the fading light. Weeks of travel had forged a silent companionship between you and Qimir, bonded by a shared purpose and unspoken understanding. The journey had been arduous, leaving you both weary and in need of respite, which the sea now graciously offered.

Without a word, you made your way towards the water, shedding layers of travel-worn clothing. Qimir watched from a distance, his expression inscrutable behind a mask of stoicism. He was a man of few words, his emotions often veiled, yet he found himself inexplicably drawn to your presence as you immersed yourself in the cool embrace of the sea.

The waves lapped gently at your skin, washing away the weariness of travel. You closed your eyes, allowing the rhythmic sounds of the ocean to soothe your senses. In this tranquil moment, Qimir's gaze followed your every move, his eyes dark and intense. There was something about you that captivated him, a strength and determination that mirrored his own. He had always been a loner, driven by his quest for knowledge and power, but you had become an unexpected companion. Unbeknownst to you, he found himself longing for something more—something he was reluctant to acknowledge.

As he watched you, he couldn't help but admire the way the water glistened on your skin, accentuating every curve and line of your body. You were strong and resilient, your muscles honed by the hardships of your journey. Yet, there was a softness to you as well, a grace that he found utterly captivating. He longed to reach out and touch you, to feel the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips, but he held himself back, knowing that such desires were dangerous.

You caught him watching you and offered a small smile, a silent acknowledgment of his presence. He hesitated for a moment, then began to remove his own garments. The air was filled with the sound of the waves and the distant call of seabirds, a natural symphony that seemed to underscore the tension between you. Qimir felt a flutter in his chest, a warmth spreading beneath his stoic exterior as he struggled to maintain his composure.

As he stepped into the water, you could feel the electric charge of his proximity. He was close, but not too close, maintaining a respectful distance. Yet, there was an undeniable chemistry, a pull that seemed to draw you together despite the vast expanse of the sea.

For a while, you both stood there, the water swirling around you. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the shore. Qimir's eyes never left you, tracing the lines of your body with a mixture of curiosity and something deeper, something that he couldn't quite define.

"You seem lost in thought," you remarked softly, your voice a gentle melody against the backdrop of the ocean's whispers.

Qimir blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your directness. He cleared his throat, a faint hint of color rising to his cheeks. "I suppose I am," he replied, his voice betraying a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show.

You nodded knowingly, the fading light catching the strands of your hair as a gentle breeze swept in from the sea. "It's a place for reflection," you offered, your tone understanding yet encouraging.

He nodded in agreement, grateful for the understanding in your words. "Indeed," he murmured, his gaze drifting to where your hand rested on the water's surface, fingertips barely breaking the calm.

Emboldened by the shared moment, you reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his arm. The touch sent a tremor through him, a sensation that echoed through every fiber of his being. Qimir's breath caught in his throat, his gaze locked with yours as he felt a stirring within him, a longing he had long suppressed.

Qimir's eyes traveled over your form, noting the way the water glistened on your skin. His heart ached with a longing he dared not voice. Every fiber of his being wanted to close the distance between you, to pull you into his arms and let go of the control he held so tightly. But he knew that giving in to his desires could lead to complications, distractions he could ill afford on this perilous journey.

You watched him, too, your gaze tracing the contours of his body. He was lean and powerful, his form sculpted by years of rigorous training. The scars that marked his skin were a testament to the battles he had fought and survived. There was an intensity in him, a fire that burned just beneath the surface.

The water swirled around you both, a cool embrace that contrasted with the heat of the moment. Qimir's breath hitched as you moved closer, the space between you narrowing. His eyes flickered with something unreadable, a mix of longing and restraint.

"Why do you always keep your distance?" you asked softly, your voice a whisper carried on the sea breeze.

Qimir hesitated, torn between the desire to confide in you and the fear of exposing his vulnerabilities. "Because..." he started, his voice low yet earnest. He swallowed hard, steeling himself to continue. "Because closeness... can be a risk," he admitted, his gaze never leaving yours.

You nodded slowly, your expression soft with empathy. "Sometimes, the risk is worth it," you replied, your voice a gentle encouragement.

His heart raced as he looked at you, the setting sun casting a halo around your silhouette. The walls he had built around himself were crumbling, brick by brick, under the weight of your presence. In that moment, amidst the tranquil beauty of the ocean and the fading light of day, Qimir realized that he had found more than a companion in you—he had found someone who understood the complexities he guarded so fiercely.

As the last rays of sunlight kissed the horizon, Qimir felt a sense of clarity wash over him. The uncertainties of the future remained, the dangers of their quest still looming on the horizon. Yet, in this fleeting moment, there was a glimmer of hope, a silent promise carried on the ocean breeze.

And perhaps, he would find the courage to step closer, to embrace the unknown, and to discover that the greatest discoveries were not always found in distant galaxies or ancient texts, but in the quiet moments shared with someone who saw beyond the mask he wore—a person who touched his heart in ways he had never imagined possible—hidden beneath the surface like the secrets of the sea.

[coff33andb00ks]

More Than Anything

oscar piastri x pop!singer reader x lando norris (with charles leclerc)

summary: In the spotlight's harsh glare, she shattered into a million pieces, then found redemption in an unexpected place warnings: language notes: complete rework of Until You because i wasn't happy with that that still follows the same premise and yes reuses a lot of the same things, but i promise it's different (better) - also a very special thank you to @driverlando for her help with this

Heartbreak and Hits: Y/N Y/L/N and Justin Bieber’s Rocky Romance Ends in Tears and Tunes

The whirlwind romance between pop sensation Y/N Y/L/N and global superstar Justin Bieber has come to a dramatic and emotional end. After nearly three years of ups, downs, and endless speculation, Y/N has finally confirmed their breakup in a raw and revealing Instagram post. The announcement comes just days before she’s set to kick off her highly anticipated world tour, leaving fans both heartbroken and intrigued by what’s to come.

A Love Story Born at the Grammys

Y/N and Justin’s relationship began in 2021 after a chance meeting at the Grammy Awards. The pair hit it off instantly, with insiders describing their connection as “electric.” Despite their undeniable chemistry, the couple’s relationship was far from smooth sailing. Rumours of infidelity, intense public scrutiny, and the pressures of their respective careers often overshadowed their love story.

Cheating Allegations and Cryptic Songs

As their relationship progressed, whispers of trouble in paradise began to circulate. By late 2022, rumours of Justin’s alleged infidelity started making headlines. While neither Y/N nor Justin addressed the cheating allegations directly, fans couldn’t help but notice the shift in Y/N’s music. Her lyrics became darker, more introspective, and filled with themes of betrayal and heartbreak.

Y/N’s 2023 album was particularly telling, with several tracks seemingly alluding to the turmoil in her relationship. While she never mentioned Justin by name, the lyrics spoke volumes. Lines like, “I gave you my heart, but you broke it in two,” and “Trust is a fragile thing, you shattered it with a fling,” had fans speculating that she was using her music to process the pain of her partner’s alleged unfaithfulness.

The Engagement Ring Mystery

In mid-2023, Y/N was spotted with what appeared to be an engagement ring, sparking a fresh wave of speculation about her relationship with Justin. The ring, a stunning piece with a massive diamond, was the talk of the town. Was this a sign that the couple had worked through their issues? Or was it a desperate attempt to save a crumbling relationship?

For months, fans and tabloids alike debated the significance of the ring, but Y/N remained tight-lipped, neither confirming nor denying an engagement. Their public appearances together became increasingly rare, leading to more speculation about the true state of their relationship.

The Bitter End

Early 2024 brought the final, heart-wrenching chapter of Y/N and Justin’s love story. Y/N took to Instagram to announce their breakup in a post that was equal parts salty and heartbreaking. “Sometimes love isn’t enough,” she wrote. “I thought we had forever, but it turns out, I was wrong. Moving on isn’t easy, but it’s necessary, especially when your partner does not respect you.”

The post quickly went viral, with fans flooding her comments section with messages of support. While Y/N didn’t go into specifics, her tone was clear: she was deeply hurt, and the breakup was far from amicable. The caption, coupled with the timing—just a week before her world tour was set to begin—left many wondering how she would cope with the demands of performing live night after night, while still nursing a broken heart.

What’s Next for Y/N?

As Y/N prepares to embark on her tour, fans are eagerly anticipating how this emotional rollercoaster will influence her performances. Known for her raw and authentic stage presence, it’s likely that the breakup—and the feelings surrounding it—will play a significant role in her shows.

Industry insiders predict that the tour could be a cathartic experience for Y/N, allowing her to channel her pain into powerful performances. “Y/N’s always been an open book with her music,” a close friend of the singer revealed. “This tour is going to be intense, emotional, and maybe even a bit therapeutic for her. She’s hurting, but she’s also a professional. She’ll pour all of that emotion into her music.”

While the world waits to see if Justin will respond to the Instagram post, it’s clear that Y/N is ready to move forward, albeit with a heavy heart. As she embarks on her tour, fans will be watching closely, eager to support her through this challenging time and to witness how her heartbreak will shape her music and her future.

Stay tuned for more updates as Y/N’s tour kicks off, and the next chapter of her life unfolds.

liked by charles_leclrec, landonorris, pierregasly and others ynyln: Merci beaucoup, Paris! Je t'aime et à bientôt!! ❤️💋

↳user3: why are f1 drivers here???            ↳ user4: a few were at the show            ↳user5: and she's always been vocal about being a fan ↳pierregasly: magnifique spectacle, rendez-vous à Monaco!            ↳user4: omg she's going to Monaco!            ↳ user9: FINALLY she gets to see a grand prix ↳ user8: almost 6 months in and each show gets better            ↳ user7: her breakup was the best thing to happen            ↳ user9: real ↳ user6: y'all seen the videos of the f1 guys?            ↳user7: my two worlds colliding

liked by ynyln and others f1goss: Charles Leclerc and Pierre Gasly at Y/N Y/L/N's concert in Paris!

↳user1: Y/N IN THE LIKES??            ↳ user2: Y/N follows 😭 ↳ynyln: omg 👁️👄👁️            ↳ user2: Y/N WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE            ↳ user3: she's so unserious ↳user4: i wonder if they got to meet            ↳ ynyln: no we didn't 😩

liked by landonorris, charles_leclrec, scuderriaferrari and others ynyln: For the first time I will be attending a Grand Prix! Vroom vrooms make my heart go brr. Eternally grateful to scuderiaferrari for the invitation. (They don't have to know my favorite driver is on mclaren)

↳scuderiaferrari: 🤨 ↳scuderiaferrari: we're sure you'll be a converted tifosi by Sunday ↳mclaren: y/n is our fan 🙏🏻 Oscar and Lando on cloud 9 now ↳f1: looking forward to finally welcoming you! ↳user1: alright y'all is she a Lando or Oscar girlie            ↳ ynyln: can't I love them both 🥺 ↳user2: great now I gotta watch all the grand prix stuff this week for a glimpse of mother ↳user3: why haven't you been before?            ↳ user4: tours, covid, j*stin...

liked by charles_leclrec, oscarpiastri, landonorris, and others ynyln: Dinner in Monte Carlo. Do I go all in on black or red?

↳ scuderriaferrari: red, obviously ↳ landonorris: black ↳ charles_leclerc: Red ↳ maxverstappen1: Black ↳ ynyln: all these blue check marks 😩 ↳ user2: yn stays forgetting she's the biggest blue check mark ↳ user1: not max joining in the mclaren vs ferrari fight for YN ↳ mclaren: Papaya 🥺 (but black)            ↳ scuderiaferrari: go comment on your own guest's posts            ↳ mclaren: you sent the invite after we mentioned doing it            ↳ landonorris: do better admin            ↳ mclaren: We'll get her next time            ↳ redbullracing: not if we get her first            ↳ landonorris: if not we're going on strike            ↳ oscarpiastri: we what ↳ oscarpiastri: I quite like the red ↳ user3: I love that YN asked opinions on her fit but it's just f1 drivers and admins fighting over her 🍿🍿 (liked by author)            ↳ ynyln: it's amazing right? no one's fought over me before            ↳ user3: bffr ↳ redbullracing: we vote blue            ↳ mclaren: that's not an option?            ↳ redbullracing: we still vote blue            ↳ scuderiaferrari: don't you have an energy drink to go sell ↳ user4: came for the pics, stayed for the f1 chaos            ↳ ynyln: giggling all the way to the restaurant honestly

note: I know it's not HUGELY different (yet) but I will be taking it in a slightly different direction. Also using Until You's taglist, so if any of you don't want to follow this just use the form to be removed please

Taglist:

@lichterfee | @formulaal | @a-beaverhausen | @dullypully | @wobblymug | @apollosfavkiddo | @callsignwidow | @saachiep81 | @midnights-lily | @waterlilypat | @kiwi43-81 | @fastfactory | @leodette | @calumthomcs | @landinhoe | @driverlando | @maxlarens | @d3kstar | @frenchyjuju | @warrensluvr | @tpwkstiles | @mcmuppet | @eveninggstar | @noooway555 | @bookishnerd1132 | @lorena-02 | @hiireadstuff | @theseus-jpg | @landoslutmeout | @ivy-34 | @trisharee | @colmathgames2 | @norrissainz33 | @littlegrapejuice | @spiderbeam

be added (or removed) to my taglist here

[vnti-vnxiety-recs]

Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better (M)

★  PAIRING: Academic rival!Haechan x afab/fem!reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 4.8k

★ GENRE(S): Smut, E2lover, Rival2lovers

☆ SUMMARY: Haechan and you have never gotten along, and your friend group is sick of it, so they make a bet that the two of you can't ignore. When put to the test, will your hatred for each other still stand?

★ ☆ WARNINGS: 18+, minors do not interact, Meandom! Haechan, aphrodisiac drug, mentions of drinking, sexual bet, sexual intercourse, swearing, unprotected sex, creampie, Haechan being mean, lowkey forgot what I wrote, so just BEWARE.

☆★ NOTES: Yuh! This idea has been stuck in my head for a while. Another saga of me failing the Don't write another hate2love challenge! FYI, I'm not a writer; I'm just a person who writes occasionally. Lovers in e2l not found more of a fuck buddy type relationship. Anyway I just wanted to say thanks for the support on my other fics. I don't usually write that often but the good feedback encourages me.

At this point, your friends were getting tired of it. You two were constantly at each other's throats. They initially believed you could'nt stand one another, but recently, the atmosphere in the room after your shouting matches was too intense to be fueled solely by animosity. The flames behind your eyes burned too brightly for them to be caused by resentment alone. They used to hold you back from lunging at him, but now they wondered what would really happen if you got your hands on him.

Haechan and you had known each other since middle school. You two shared a lot of the same classes, and unfortunately, you both had parents who expected you to excel in school. You were always trying to one-up each other or stamp out the other's resolve. Your relationship was rocky from the start, and even if you two weren't fighting for the top spot, you doubt you would find him likable.

Haechan was a natural at everything. He didn't have to try very hard to be the best; he just got it. On the other hand, despite spending hours studying, you could just barely match his performance. You were jealous of how easy he made it look. The fact that he would flaunt his success in your face didn't help.

“Can't keep up?” He would say after outperforming you on the final exam by 10 points, he had that same smirk that seemed permanently etched onto his face on full display. You had spent days preparing for the test, even skipping a few hours of sleep. Haechan never studied; the most he ever did to prepare for an exam was to quickly skim the material a few hours before the test. Even then, he would still ace it.

You expected to grow up and put the rivalry behind yourselves during high school, but he would jump at any chance to make you look like an idiot. You could say the sky was blue, and he would argue that it was actually the reflection of the ocean that gave the sky the illusion of being blue. Back in middle school, you limited all interactions with him for your own sanity. However, in high school, he somehow managed to join your friend group, so you were forced to endure him during hangouts. You eventually got used to his presence and the non-stop teasing. It wasn't until you received your acceptance letter to the college you would be attending with your friends that you thought you would finally be free from him. Haechan's parents had wanted him to go to a college that was 4 hours away from your hometown, and you counted down the days until graduation.

Luck was never on your side.

Due to Haecahan's tendency to put things off, he wasn't able to submit his application in time, and as the school was very competitive, the available spots quickly filled up. Luckily for him, your college had an extended application process, which allowed him to send it in late, and he was accepted. Now here you are two years into college, and Haechan is still insufferable.

You two were on two completely different career tracks, so your classes never overlapped, so at least you stopped fighting about grades. Being at the top doesn't matter to you anymore, anyway. You hated the pressure that your parents put on you growing up. Before, you would have had a heart attack if you saw a B, but now you just shrug them off. Even still, all you two do is just have petty arguments because that's all you have ever done.

“You would not be able to see an explosion in space; it's a vacuum; fire can't exist.”

"Well, I've seen Star Wars, so I think that proves my point.”

“That's Fiction! You know, like the idea of you having a brain,” you roll your eyes.

“Almost like your sense of humor? I was joking. Of course I know that I took astronomy before you," he smirks.

He was constantly trying to get under your skin. You take a long breath and try to calm yourself down. "Well, yeah, because I took a different science asshole." Your friends say it's because you always give him a reaction, but you hate being wrong. You had to get the last word, especially against know-it-alls like him.

Despite your complaints, he isn't entirely horrible. On the days that you two aren't arguing, he's making you laugh so hard that you practically fall over. He's not a complete jerk all the time; it's just that once you two get started, it's hard to stop.

“Oh please, can you two cut it out? You have either had too much alcohol or not enough if you can still think about arguing,” your friend Johnny slurs.

It's Saturday night, and you have just finished off an exhausting exam week. Your friends felt a celebration was in order to wind down from the trying week. Now the only thing trying was Haechan testing your patience. You're at Johnny's house, and everyone is spread out around his spacious living room, bottles of alcohol scattered several surfaces. Johnny’s family was well off, and he lived off campus in one of the few estates that his family owned. The house had two stories and a pool in the backyard. On the weekends, you would spend the most of your time here.

“You're right I came here to relax, not burst a blood vessel.” You sigh and take a seat next to Johnny on the couch. You take a couple sips from whichever unopened can of cheap alcohol is nearby. Even though you could already sense a buzz coming on, it needed to hit harder if you were going to have to deal with Haechan all night.

Hyuck chuckled and found a spot on the carpeted floor. "Sorry, the princess just seemed like her day was going too well; I had to ruin it a little," he said.

Your friend Yuna raised an eyebrow in his direction and smirked as she took another sip of her drink. “For you to hate her so much, you sure do spend a lot of time thinking about her.”

“One point Yuna, '' you smile at your friend's rebuttal. Arguing with Haechan could be tiring, but your roommate always had your back.

“I think you two just need to hug it out... in a room... alone,” your other friend Mark joked.

You dryly laugh, "So funny."

“You scared?” Hyuck says with a wicked grin. He leans back on one arm as he sips on his drink, still eyeing you confidently. It's at times like these that you betray yourself the most. He looks so good with his light brown hair framing his face; it's grown so long now that it covers his eyes if he doesn't push it back. The alcohol must be hitting because now all you can imagine is pulling on the soft brown locks and not out of anger. You must have taken too long to reply, because now he's raising an eyebrow at you.

“I wouldn't want to be alone with you even if you were the last person on earth."

Johnny cuts off Haechan's response before he can start. "Want to test that theory?"

Questions run through everyone's mind as you all turn to look at Johnny after his outburst.

“What, are you gonna kill us or something?” Haechan responds wearily.

"No, but I should, with the headache you have given me.”

“So…?” You urge him to continue.

"You two keep saying how much you can't stand each other, so how about we put that to the test?" Johnny closes with a sinister grin.

“I feel like you're gonna say something really stupid next." Mark comments

Johnny ushers your other friends into a huddle and tries his best to whisper in his drunken state.

"Guys, just hear me out? We can all feel the tension between these two. They clearly need to fuck or something, so how about we help them along so we don't have to deal with them trying to tear each other apart?”

“How would we do that?”

“We can hear you, and I am NOT fucking him."

“Oh come on, we see the way you two look at each other; you're both just too stubborn to realize it.”

"Hyuck, don't just sit there; help me out here!" you plead

“They have a point, though; you do want to fuck me,” he confidently adds.

"Please, you would be lucky enough if I poked you with a stick,” you say in distaste.

“Order! Order!” Johnny slurs, "Look, I have a way for you both to prove yourselves,” using his beer can as a makeshift gavel.

“Yeah, where were you even going with all of this? Man get to the point,” Mark mutters as he gets comfortable on the sofa.

“"What if you two take an aphrodisiac together and try not to touch each other? If you can last, then you two will win and show everyone how much you despise one another."

The room is silent when Johnny finishes pitching his idea. You think he definitely had one too many drinks tonight. What kind of plan was this? There was no way in hell you would go along with ANY of Johnny's half-baked ideas, but this one was especially crazy. You were just about to shoot down the idea when another voice interrupted you.

“I'm down. What? You can't stand the idea of keeping your hands off me?” Haechan grumbles upon seeing your reaction.

“what? I was just thinking this is stupid. What do I even get out of this? I don't care what you people think,” you huff.

“How about I give you each $500 if you win?”

“Do you-” you start.

“AND Mark does your homework for 2 weeks.”

“Hey! I didn't-” mark says

“AND Yuna does your share of the chores at your dorm.”

“WHA-!” yuna argues

"Deal," you quickly say before anyone can finish their complaints.

"Dude, this is not what we discussed,” Mark complains. Johnny whispers to him about something, and he perks up a little as Johnny makes him a promise. "Fine"

Johnny lays down the rules for you two. You and Haechan will both take an aphrodisiac pill and be restricted to the upstairs bedroom. You’ll have to stay in the room with each other for 3 hours, and if you two can withstand the 3 hours without touching each other, you win. If you lose, you both have agreed to play nice with each other or at least around other people.

As soon as you both take the pink pill, Johnny starts the timer. You make your way up the stairs to the bedroom, where you often crash on the weekends. This was definitely not how you thought you would be spending the weekend.

“We’ll come knocking when the time’s up! Yuna yells from downstairs.

You pout playfully and mock her from over the railing of the stairs. She was supposed to be the reasonable one.

“Oh real mature,” Haechan chuckles as he shuffles past you up the stairs. The staircase was really narrow, and you could practically feel his body heat against you as he went. The pills' effects haven't even fully settled in yet, and you're already feeling things you shouldn't. If you were planning on winning, you would have to get it together. Maybe this wasn't as easy as you thought.

As you make your way up the remaining stairs, you see Haechan standing by the door frame, waiting for you. He rolls his eyes. "You're stalling."

You murmur under your breath, "I'll literally give you my half of the money if you shut up for the next three hours," but drag yourself into the room nevertheless.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

The first 20 minutes aren't terrible. You guys make yourselves comfortable on opposite sides of the room and pick a random wall to stare at. As Haechan makes himself comfortable on the room's lone bed, you take a seat on a little bench that lines a sizable window. You're grateful he keeps his mouth shut. This was probably the longest you two have been in each other's presence without speaking.

It wasn't until about 30 minutes in that the effect hit you. Your breathing grew labored, and your blood started to flow through your veins more quickly. Your body started to heat up. To cool down, you placed your face on the window, breathing fogging the glass. When you looked up to see how Haechan was fairing, he was already looking at you with heavy-lidded eyes as his chest expanded with each deep inhale.

As much as he got on your last nerve, you had always thought he was attractive. His tan honey skin that glowed in the sunlight, his pretty moles that you would kill to kiss, and his gorgeous eyes that always made your heart beat just a little harder when he would glare at you whenever you hit a nerve. You loved seeing him worked up, but the few moments you got to see him when he was happy were moments you stored deep in the vault of your heart. You hated him; there was no time for admiring him.

You tried to shove those thoughts away, but It was as though all the thoughts you had been working so hard to suppress had suddenly surfaced. All you could think about was his plump lips and how they would feel on your body. How his fingers would feel encircling your throat, pressing the chilly rings that decorated his hands against your skin. His golden locks flowing through your fingers as you hold him close. You couldn't resist licking your lips at the idea.

“Don't fucking do that,” he abruptly spoke. He closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath. He spreads his legs further, trying to get comfortable in his spot across the room.

You try to fight the urge, but your eyes travel down his body to the bulge in his sweats. You immediately cross your legs at the sight. You had to clutch onto the pillows of the seat you were in; otherwise, you don't think you could stop yourself from crossing the room in a heartbeat.

“What? Can't handle it hyuckie?” You coo at him, using the old nickname you haven't called him since middle school. You had to find some ground in this setting. You couldn't let him see how weak he was making you.

"Out of all the times you pick to be a brat, now is not the time," he grumbles mockingly.

“Why? Am I getting on your nerves? Hmm, I could only wonder what that must feel like,” you sneered. You were so horny, it's pissing you off. You decide Haechan can use a taste of his own medicine, and what better way to blow off steam than to get under his skin?

“Maybe they were right. Maybe you do need a good fuck for you to lose the attitude.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

"Careful," he smirks, licking his lips.

You know that look; he's testing you. He's daring you to say something else.

"That's what I thought," he says, closing his eyes and attempting to control his breathing.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

You're about an hour in, and you can't take it any longer; you're practically rutting against the seam of your jeans, hoping for some kind of friction.

"Please, I can't do this anymore," you cry out for air. You turn to face him, but he doesn't answer. His eyes are closed, and his brows are drawn together as if he's in pain.

“Haechan!” You scream again; this time he slowly opens his eyes, and you suck in a breath as your eyes meet. His pupils were completely blown as sweat pricked his brow.

“Are you giving up?"

You nod in response.

“That's too bad; I still want to win,” he smirks lazily.

"Let's just forfeit; this is stupid!” You stand from where you were seated and head to the door. This prompts Haechan to finally move from his spot as he uses his long legs to cross the room in three wide strides. Before you can open the door, he stops you. For the first time since you two entered the room, he touches you. While keeping his body an arms' length away from you, he is shoving you up against the door by your shoulders. Your body is on fire at the mere touch, and you're grateful for the little bit of space he has given you.

“Calm down. Think this through,” he huffs as if out of breath. “just-just think of the money.”

“I don't care about this stupid bet! I feel like I'm going to explode,” you cry, fighting to escape his hold, but he just pins you back against the door.

“How about I take care of it then? Hmm?” He begs, never breaking eye contact. “I'll take the pain away, baby. Just work with me, yeah?"

"That defeats the point Haechan; we aren't supposed to touch each other; I thought you were smarter than that," you protest, growing increasingly frustrated.

“As long as you keep those gorgeous lips shut, nobody would ever know.” He slowly closes in on you as he speaks. “I help you out, and when we get out of this room, we pretend like nothing happened, and that we still can't stand each other, deal?” He's a breath away. The close proximity, the way he's practically breathing down your neck, and the look in his eyes that tells you he is only about 2 seconds away from devouring you were all you needed to go along with Haechan's scheme.

You stopped listening about halfway through anyway so you nodded mindlessly before closing the remaining space between the two of you. You're pushing off the door and pressing your body against his as you guide him towards the bed. Even though you can both feel your lungs starting to burn, neither of you has the strength to break the kiss. When his legs met the edge of the bed, he sat, giving you both time to regain your breath. He's resting back against his hands, looking up at you, and his legs are spread wide as if he were offering himself to you.

"Come on princess, take whatever you want from me," he smirks as you get into his lap and nestle down against the tent in his pants. You push him until his back is flush against the mattress, then mindlessly grind down on him. You use his chest to steady yourself as you throw your head back and drown in the feeling. You feel Haechan's hands gripping your waist and then traveling up your torso. His hands explored your body as you got lost in each other. Haechan sits up to meet your lips in another passionate kiss. As he deepens the kiss, he clutches your waist tightly to restrict your movements. You whine at the lack of stimulation, but all he can do is smile against your lips in return.

“Be patient baby; let me love on you.”

“This…was…not…a part of…the deal,” you try to finish as he lovingly pecks your lips.

"Didn't I tell you to keep your voice down? Shut up,” he says, ignoring your insistent whining, lavishing your face and neck in wet kisses. Any “loving” he was going to give vanished at your bratty behavior.

“Stop teasing, hyuck seriously. I think I'm going insane.”

You were on the verge of tears at this point; you needed him to give you some type of relief. That's exactly how he wanted you—desperate and needy—not like you already weren't, but he liked to push you to your limits.

“Lay down for me,” he says, releasing his grip on your hips and patting your thigh to signal you to get up. You swiftly move to lay on the bed, and you watch him as he pulls his shirt over his head and takes off his sweatpants, leaving him only in his underwear. He climbs the bed and helps you remove your jeans. As he's tugging the material down your thick thighs, you remove your shirt and bra. He settles between your legs, and you reflexively wrap your legs around his waist. He has to press his palm down against your lower stomach to stop you from grinding against him again.

"You promise to behave?" He prys your legs free from his waist, trapping them against your chest and restricting your movement.

You nod mindlessly, reaching out to grab him and trying to draw him into another kiss, but he pins your hands above your head, using his hips instead to further pin you down.

"Uh-uh princess, use your words," he adds coldly.

“Please hyuck, I promise I'll be good.”

“You going to be a good girl and keep that mouth shut?”

You were exhausted from having to use your brain to come up with a coherent response; you were at your limit. All you could think about was him filling you up, and every second he didn't, it felt like a year of your life span was shaved off. You did cry this time. You were so frustrated with him; he did this all the time. He never plays nice; he always makes you work for it.

"Oh you poor baby," he coos lovingly as he kisses your eyelids and wipes away your tears. "I'm sorry, but I have to hear you say it," he continues.

"I promise to be your good girl; I swear I won't make a sound, please," you sniffle, trying to hold back your tears.

“If I hear one sound, I'm stopping, and you can walk out of this room and finish yourself off, got it?”

You've learned to respond quickly when he asks you a question, so you nod your head with a "yes sir."

This makes Haechan smile wickedly. Who would have guessed that the same brat who walked into the room with him no less than an hour ago could be so obedient? He was definitely never letting you live this down when this was over. He finally decides to take pity on you, kisses down your body, and removes your panties. He threw your legs over his shoulders, and a quick kiss to your inner thigh was all the warning you got before he nuzzled his nose up against your clit as he licked into your entrance. He savored the taste with his tongue before licking up to your clit and sucking it into his mouth. The sounds his mouth made as he devoured you were wet and noisy as he slurped away at your essence.

You were fighting for your life above him. Reaching for a pillow that was just almost out of reach, you used it to smother your sounds. A sharp slap on your outer thigh served as a warning to keep your voice down. It was the only warning you were going to get. Soon the pillow is long forgotten as you gasp for air. Your thighs began to shake as you choked on your moans. Your back arches, and you can feel your eyes begin to roll. You were going to come, and you would have welcomed it with open arms any other time, but you knew how loud you could get. He was not letting up, and you knew if you came like this, you wouldn't be able to hold back the scream that's been dying to echo against the walls.

You try your best to fight it off. You frantically push at his head, begging him with your eyes as you trap your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to bite back moans. He shakes his head no, but the movement simply adds to the pleasure, and you're about to lose it. You try to get away from his mouth by shifting up the bed, but his powerful arms wrap around your thighs and pull you back down onto his mouth.

"Hae-" His look silences you, and your mouth hangs wide in a silent cry as you spasm on his tongue. It was the most intense orgasm you'd ever felt. Once he helps you ride out the wave, he kisses your pussy one more time before pulling away. As soon as he does, you snap your legs shut, still reeling from the orgasm. His face was practically dripping as he stared you down, hungry.

"Better?" he asks, brushing the back of his palm across his face.

"Mhm,” you reply, causing him to raise a brow, "better,” you quickly follow, using your voice.

Your eyes travel down his body until they reach what you’ve been craving for the most. Haechan was harder than you thought could even be possible. His tip was a furious shade of crimson, gleaming in precum. 

"One more baby," he strokes his length before hissing and gripping the base. "Just be my good girl one more time," he begs.

You almost feel bad. The whole time he was teasing you, he was also teasing himself. You're amazed he's maintained this level of self-control up to this point.

“I don't know if I can keep quiet if we continue,” you plead.

“Open your mouth” is all he says as he prys your legs open and settles between them.

You comply, and Haechan shoves your panties into your mouth. You try to object, but he covers your mouth with his palm for added security.

"My turn," he grins before bottoming out inside you. The first few strokes are so deep, you can practically feel him in your stomach. He's trying to keep control; he's trying to be gentle with you because he knows how sensitive you are, but he's slowly losing it. He's going to use you like a doll. His thrusts pick up pace, and all you can hear in the room is skin slapping against skin unforgivingly. The hand around your mouth clamps down harder as he buries his head into your neck.

“Im sorry... fuck” was all you got as he hiked your leg up higher on his waist, trying to hit deeper. His hot breath fanning across your neck and the soft staccato groans he lets out are the only indications that he is close. Your head is in the clouds, and you can't think straight. You barely register the fact that you came again until he bites at your neck to muffle his deep groan at the feeling of your walls tightening down on him. Next thing you know, he's snapped.

He quickly sits up, throwing your leg over his shoulder as he drives his hips down into you, practically fucking you into the mattress until his hips are stuttering. He pulls the panties from your mouth to kiss you in the hopes of drowning out his own sounds of pleasure. His kiss is messy. It's nothing but tongue and teeth as his thrusts grow slopy. He's practically whimpering into your mouth when he cums.He rides out his high before pulling away from your lips. All you can do is stare at each other as you catch your breath. There is a brief moment of silence before you both burst out laughing. He collapses next to you and pulls you close.

“You think they heard that?” he asks, panting.

"Oh, we definitely heard everything." A muffled voice can be heard through the door, and you assume it's Yunas.

You're too sleepy to feel embarrassed as your eyelids begin to droop.

"Don't worry, you two; we'll say you won as long as you don't try to kill each other again." Johnny's muffled voice can be heard next.

"I don't think she'll be able to do much for a while," Haechan muffles. Speaking to your sleeping form more than anyone else.

"I'll get the plan B girl. I gotchu," Yuna voice fades as she walks down the hallway.

She was definitely gonna grill you for the details. She always wanted a run-down play by play of everything that happened.

Soon, you found yourself drifting off to sleep in haechans warm embrace.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Johnny would call his mission a success. You two stopped arguing for the most part, and the group was able to enjoy more peaceful outings without the two of you turning every conversation into a debate. Your friends were fond of your bickering, but at times it could get to be too much. But now that your relationship with Haechan has blossomed into a….situationship? They were running into another problem.

You two fuck like rabbits.

No matter where you were, you two were slipping off to do who knows what or being all touchy-feely with each other, and your friends didn't want to see or hear any of it. But because you two seemed happier, they learned to cope with it. Yuna bought new noise-canceling headphones to use whenever Haechan would spend the night at your dorm. Johnny upgraded the speakers in the house so that when he had a party and you two snuck away, the music could blast louder to drown out your noises. Mark downloaded more mobile games on his phones to ignore you two when you would get all lovey during movie nights.

Haechan still picked on you, but he saved it more for the bedroom, and you still tried to test his patience any chance you got. You didn't know what you two had, but you didn't mind enjoying it while it lasted or even furthering it. You learned a lot more about Haechan and discovered that you two had more in common than you believed. You also learned he could be a real sweetheart sometimes. Maybe your friends were right all along, and maybe Johnny isn't as crazy as you thought. Maybe you didn't have to be better than Haechan all along.

Rushed ending opps

[oneshotnewbie]

Reader walks through fire to save Emily Prentiss. That's it, that's the prompt. You can decide what you do with it. Thank you 💖

Authors note: Somehow lately I've had a thing for long oneshots that go well over the actual 1000 words. I just can't stop writing once I start haha. I wish you a nice start to the week ♥

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This one-shot includes the slight mention of burn injuries and fainting. The plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

ᕚ---ᕘ

As Special Agent Emily Prentiss and you brought your car to a stop on a remote forest path, the dense treetops reached high into the sky, forming an impenetrable canopy of leaves that barely let in the light of the sun. It seemed as if nature itself wanted to keep a secret as a cold wind blew through the branches, carrying with it the whispers of the leaves.

A brief exchange of glances between Emily and you revealed the determination burning within you as you checked your gear and got your vests ready. As a well-rehearsed duo in the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, you were familiar with the darkest depths of the human psyche and had faced the most dangerous criminals. But even for you, this case was of unusual intensity.

A series of brutal murders had terrified residents living on the edge of the Arkansas grove. The victims appeared to be chosen at random, and every lead the team found at the crime scene led to a dead end. But now a clue had led you here, to this dark place that was far from any civilization.

Together you made your way down the rocky and arduous path deeper into the forest, the cracking of twigs under your boots and the occasional call of a bird accompanied you like a dark melody. Imbued in your minds was the determination to solve this mystery and put an end to the evil that threatened the innocent inhabitants of this remote area.

Eventually you came to a small clearing dominated by a dilapidated log cabin. The centuries-old wooden walls were overgrown with moss and ivy, which covered the abandoned building like a veil. The windows stood empty and dark, like the eyes of a ghost from a bygone era, silently bearing witness to long-forgotten stories.

Emily sensed an eerie presence that seemed to emanate from the place, as if the walls themselves spoke of the horrors they had experienced. But she forced herself to suppress her fear and focused her gaze on the task before you both. Despite the ominous feeling that surrounded the place, your resolve remained unbroken as you prepared to explore the secrets of this mysterious place.             

“Ah, here we are,” you whispered quietly to her as you crouched and crept up to the entrance, gun drawn. "Let's see what we can find and finally close the case."

You entered the abandoned building together, your flashlights cutting through the darkness and illuminating the path before you. A hint of decay hung heavy in the air as the old parquet floors crunched beneath your feet as if revealing the secrets of the building beneath you. But your resolve was still unshakable, and you searched every room with meticulous care, looking for clues that could solve the mystery.

As you began to move further into the next room, Emily paused in her position in the largest room and raised a hand to silence you before you could even begin to speak. You listened intently, and a quiet but distinct sound reached your ears - a gentle breeze that seemed to whisper through the gaps between the door and the frame.

“Over there,” Emily whispered as you returned to her, pointing to a locked door at the end of the hallway. The two of you approached the door slowly, your hearts pounding loudly in your ears as if anticipating the rhythm of the horror to come. With a quick nod, you released the lock on the door and entered the room first.

What unfolded before you chilled your blood. In the middle of the room sat an altar made of weathered stone, surrounded by extinguished candles and mysterious symbols that formed a dark coven around it. On the walls hung grotesque paintings of dark figures whose eyes seemed to pierce you, as if they wanted to explore your soul.

But the horror reached its climax with the sight of the body lying on the altar - a young girl, bound and mutilated, her face contorted in pain while an iron stake protruded from her chest, her breathing long stopped. The sight of her echoed in your mind, a cruel testament to the evil that permeated the place.

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" you asked, an ice-cold shiver running down your spine as the ominous scene before you slowly took shape. Emily shrugged, her gaze caught by the gloomy atmosphere as she swallowed hard to maintain her composure. "We have to get out of here and call for backup," she said firmly, but the undertone betrayed the growing concern that threatened to overwhelm her too. She signaled for you to back off as she took a few steps back to give you cover. "This is bigger than we thought."

You nodded in agreement, but before you could take a step, another sound echoed across the ceiling - a soft rustling, followed by an ominous hissing that seemed to be emanating from a hidden pipe, accompanied by the pungent smell of smoke coming from beneath the door.

Panic rose within you as you realized that you possibly were in danger and that the rest of the team might be taking too long to reach you. You were trapped, surrounded by the dark remnants of a ritual space that seemed to harbor evil and now encircled you menacingly.

As you walked up the short steps and opened the door to leave the basement, and hastily return to your vehicle to call for backup, the blockhouse was engulfed in thick smoke.

Emily felt the heat rising on her skin and the acrid smoke entering her lungs as she coughed and pressed her sweater under her nose to escape the choking smoke. "We have to get out of here!" she shouted over the infernal crackling of the fire, which threatened to spread greedily, as if it was hungry for more fuel.

You nodded in agreement and reached for her hand, and together you fought your way through the impenetrable fog, your eyes burning with tears as you searched for a way out of this nightmare. But the fire, which had spread for reasons still unknown, seemed to cut off your path, your every movement blocked by a wall of heat that threatened you and that blocked your view. You didn't know where the exit was. Every step you took brought you closer to the certainty that you were surrounded by the merciless forces of destruction that were driving you closer to the abyss with every second.

Fear gripped both of you tightly as you looked around and realized the terrible reality. The flames around you burned higher and higher, their glowing tongues lashing out greedily at everything in their path, spreading an atmosphere of desperation and chaos.

And as you progressed on your way, you suddeny saw the outline of a dark figure. You strained to sharpen your focus, to heighten your senses in this inferno. "The perpetrator! He's here!" You shouted out to Emily, your voice filled with determination as you moved resolutely towards the unknown, clutching your gun tightly, the desire for justice burning in your heart.

But in the rush of the moment, you didn't notice that Emily wasn't following you, her own thoughts torn apart by the urgency of the situation. Her eyes searched desperately for a way out of this blazing hellfire as she fought within herself against the panic that threatened to overwhelm her.

But as you got closer, you realized with horror that it wasn't the murderer, but just a shadow dancing in the pale light of the flames. A moment of relief quickly gave way to anxiety as you realized that the perpetrator was still lurking somewhere in the dark corners while you had lost sight of him. And now you were separated from Emily, your ally, your anchor in this burning hell.

Emily called out to you, but her voice was swallowed up by the angry crackling of the flames that raged around her like a wild animal. Her heart began to race involuntarily as she looked around and realized the cruel reality - she was completely alone, surrounded by the surging waves of fire that threatened to consume her and destroy her existence.

With her back pressed against the wall, she pressed her flashlight hard into the fog that permeated the room, hoping that the beam of light would attract you and lead you back to her. “Y/n, I’m here!” she cried desperately, her voice laced with the pain of isolation. "I'm trapped in the flames. Follow the light, please!" Her words echoed through the burning room, a silent cry for help amid the raging inferno.

Less than a minute later she heard a faint sound rising above the roar of the fire - the sound of a figure, a jacket over your head, fighting through the flames to get to her.

Emily turned to the side and watched in horror as you emerged from the blazing inferno, your face contorted with pain, your clothes scorched by them, and your skin marked by the cruel scars of the fire. “Oh my god, y/n!” she shouted, her voice filled with fear as you fell the last few inches towards her, her eyes wide in terror. "What have you done?"

You couldn't speak a word; the pain unbearable, your voice paralyzed by the torment of the fire. Your only job was to get your partner safely out of this burning house, so you placed a wet blanket over her head and body before carefully guiding her out of the flames, yourself also hidden under the blanket to protect yourself from further burns.

Her hand gripped yours tightly as she pulled you closer to her, feeling the pain and heat of your skin. "Y/n, you are seriously injured. Let me guide you," she whispered softly as she placed your arm over her shoulder, but the adrenaline rushed through your body, your mind numb from the agony that was coursing through you, her words unheard.

You struggled through the flames, your senses numbed by the unrelenting burn that accompanied you as you leaned heavily on Emily. Every step was agony, every breath a fight against the heat and smoke that threatened to suffocate your lungs. But despite the darkness of the inferno, you did not give up, but continued to fight, driven by the irrepressible will to bring Emily and yourself to safety, out of this hellfire.

As you finally made it out into the open and made your way to safety, a deafening bang ripped through the air, followed by a blinding flash of light that pierced the dark clouds of smoke and bathed the night in blinding daylight. Emily and you were thrown to the ground by the force of the explosion, the impact shattering your bodies as chaos erupted around you.

Fire shot out of the windows of the log cabin and quickly spread to the surrounding trees, the forest itself was going up in flames. The air was filled with an infernal crackling and hissing that shook the ground. The forest immediately became a burning fortress, enveloped in an impenetrable veil of flames that seemed to block any possibility of escape. "Y/n, get up," Emily urged, her voice firm and determined as she leaned towards you, "We have to get out of here. I'm going to take you to the hospital to get you looked after." Her words pierced the chaotic scene, a promise of rescue and hope amid the tumult of flames.

She shook your motionless body, but you didn't move. The adrenaline that had once fueled your senses was gone, and now your body was collapsing like a house of cards blown away by a merciless breeze. Emily gently turned your lifeless body onto its back, an act of tenderness in the midst of chaos that reflected your sacrifice and bravery - you had gone through hell to save her.

Half your body was scorched by the flames, your skin scarred by the fire, and your breathing was shallow and uneven, a faint sign of your struggle to survive.

Emily fought the panic that overcame her when she saw your badly injured body. "Stay with me, y/n," she whispered, her voice cracking with fear as the flames around her licked at the trees and ate through the undergrowth, a warning sign of destruction. "You can do this, you hear me? You have to do this. Please, y/n."

But you didn't move, unconscious and silent as death itself. Emily felt the tears burning in her eyes, but she forced herself to stay strong so as not to give up on you. Her hands rested gently on your bruised skin, a silent vow of loyalty and hope amidst the flames.

Emily pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, her fingers shaking with tension as she dialed the number for her boss, Aaron Hotchner. She raised the phone to her ear, hoping for a connection as the chaos raged around her, the flames spreading unstoppably.

"Hotch, we need help urgently," she said, her voice firm and controlled even as fear burned in her heart. "Y/n is seriously injured, we need firefighters and paramedics here. The whole forest is burning down. Now!"

He reassured her that help and the team was on the way, and Emily put the phone away, her thoughts entirely on you, still lying motionless in front of her. "Please, y/n. Wake up," she pleaded, running her hand gently over your burned neck, as if she could call life back into you through the touch. "You have to fight, you hear me? You can't give up."

The minutes passed like hours as Emily waited, her eyes fixed on you, counting every breath, watching every movement of your body as she evaluated your vitals every second. But nothing changed, you remained motionless, your face expressionless like a mask of ash, and your thoughts swirled in a whirlpool of fear and hope.

Finally, the sound of engines pierced the oppressive silence as firefighters burst through the flames and rushed to your rescue. She was accompanied by the paramedics who immediately lifted you onto a stretcher and took you into the ambulance while she followed you with a worried look, closely watching the rescuers' every move.

The ambulance raced through the mountainous streets, sirens blaring across the countryside, as Emily sat next to you, holding your hand tightly amidst the furious roar of the sirens and the rattling engine.

ᕚ---ᕘ

The bright morning light filtered gently through the hospital room window as you slowly came to consciousness. Every breath was accompanied by pain, every muscle in your body felt like it was filled with lead. A silent struggle against the stabbing pain shot through you as you tried to move, only to be thrown back into the soft hospital bed by a painful retreat.

Emily sat by your bed, her eyes full of concern, her hand gently stroking your fingers as if she was trying to ease your pain with her touch. Noticing you had awakened, a soft smile broke across her lips as she reached for your hand that wasn't injured. “Welcome back, y/n,” she whispered quietly, her voice warm and sensitive. "How do you feel?"

You tried to speak, but your voice was only a hoarse whisper, choked by the pain of your injuries, and you coughed painfully. Emily handed you a glass of water and gently held it to your lips, helping you take a slow sip before continuing. "It's okay, speak slowly," she encouraged patiently. "You've had a tough time, but we're here to support you." Her words were a promise of care and hope in the midst of the darkness you had lived through.

You nodded slowly, your mind raging like wild whirlwinds, flooding with memories of the past mission - the fire, the flames, the heat that had penetrated your skin. And then there was Emily, strong and unwavering, standing next to you and holding you as your body slowly gave out and you tried desperately to get her out of harm's way.

“I remember,” you finally whispered, your eyes cloudy with pain as you tried to form the words through the thick fog of memories. A faint hint of understanding crossed Emily's face as she heard your words, her eyes full of empathy and compassion.

"You literally walked through fire to save me," she spoke quietly, her voice laced with a hint of awe as tears pooled in her eyes, glittering like diamonds in the light.

A faint smile crossed your lips, trembling with exertion, as you slowly raised your hand and placed it gently on her cheek, your touch a delicate promise of love and devotion. “You were inside,” you murmured quietly, your voice a whisper in the quiet of the hospital room. "No fire in the world would stop me from saving you. I can't lose you." The words were a confession that reached deeper than words could, a promise that was anchored in the infinite expanses of your connection.

Emily reached for your hand, her touch as delicate as a gentle breath as she leaned against you, letting her tears flow freely. "Thank you for coming to get me," she spoke, her voice filled with admiration and gratitude. "You are incredibly brave. I was deeply impressed by your courage and willingness to sacrifice. I will always be there for you, just as you were there for me."

Your eyes shined with gratitude and a hint of relief. You knew the road to recovery would be long and difficult, but you also knew you didn't have to walk it alone. You had Emily by your side, strong and unwavering, and the team that supported you. Together you would overcome this challenge, side by side, hand in hand, ready to weather any storm that blew your way.

You knew that the bond between you both was strong, strengthened by the flames of fate you had traversed together. And so began a journey of recovery and growth for you that would bring you closer together than ever before. Every step you took together would show you that the love and connection you felt for each other was stronger than any darkness that threatened you.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Feeling alive

Fictober Day 2

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: swimming in a lake or river has always been something that calms me down and let me gather my thoughts

Warnings: fluff, suggestive, after battle setting

Word Count: 693

Please remember that comments and reblogs are two things that make writers smile and keep us motivated.

The water is icy, biting at your heated, bare skin like a thousand tiny needles. You inhale deeply, bracing yourself, and then slip beneath the surface, letting the darkness of the lake envelop you. 

For a moment, everything is still. The cold wraps around you like a shroud, numbing your skin and dulling the heat from the battle. You can still hear them—the deafening war cries, the clash of steel against steel, the agonised moans of the wounded, drenched in doom and despair. Beneath the surface, the world is silent—peaceful, even. The darkness of the lake is thick, pressing in on you from all sides, but there’s a strange comfort in it. Here, beneath the water, it feels as though time has slowed, as though you’ve found a moment of quiet amidst the chaos.

You let yourself drift for a heartbeat longer, your lungs burning with the need for air, but you hold on, savouring the weightlessness. The chill clears your mind, cooling the fire that’s been raging within you for hours.

Finally, you push off the rocky bottom, breaking through the surface with a gasp. The cold air rushes into your lungs, sharp and bracing, but you welcome it. You run a hand through your wet hair, wiping the droplets from your eyes as you glance toward the shore.

Sihtric is there, standing at the water’s edge, his gaze locked on you. His eyes are intense, unwavering, as if watching you rise from the lake is something he wants to imprint on his memory. The smile he had earlier is gone, replaced by something deeper, something that stirs the same fire in you that he knows so well.

You swim toward him, your body moving effortlessly through the water despite the cold. When you reach the shore, he’s already there, extending a hand to help pull you from the water. His grip is firm and steady, and as soon as your feet touch the ground, he pulls you into him, his warmth a stark contrast to the icy chill of the lake.

You bury your nose in his broad chest, as if trying to breathe in the calm that radiates from him, hoping it will still the storm raging deep within you. His steady heartbeat echoes in your ear, grounding you, its rhythm a comforting reminder of his presence, his strength.

His arms tighten around you, protective and reassuring. "I've got you," he whispers, the warmth of his voice sending a gentle wave of peace through you. Slowly, the tension begins to melt away, piece by piece, as if his every touch is pulling the chaos from your soul.

“You needed that,” he says softly, his breath warm against your ear.

You nod, your naked body starts to shiver slightly from the cold, but there’s a different kind of heat building between you now. 

“I did,” you admit, your voice quieter than you intended. "And now I need something else," you add with a mischievous smirk.

Before he can respond, you rise on your toes and press your lips to his, the cold water dripping between you. His arms circle around you, pulling you closer. For a moment, the world falls away. It's just the two of you, tangled in each other’s warmth, the memory of the battle fading from your mind as his large, rough palms land on your firm ass, lifting you up from the ground.

You wrap your arms around his neck, locking your legs tightly around his waist. Your fingers tangle in his thick, curly hair as soft giggles spill from your lips, letting Sihtric carry you effortlessly to the shore. He lowers you gently onto a bed of moss and grass, the softness cradling your body beneath his weight.

“Tell me, what is it that you need right now?” he teases, his voice low, as his body presses you to the ground. With a quick motion he loosens his breeches just enough to pull out his fully hard cock.

“I need to feel alive…,” you gasp as he thrusts into you without warning, and your answer fades into breathless moans and muffled groans, filling the evening air around you.

[ashessonfire]

FIRST KISS WITH KAZ!!! Maybe through fabric or just working through his touch aversion to get there

'Need' - Kaz Brekker x reader

Prompt - An overview of the relationship which brings the Bastard of the Barrel's hardened walls crashing down. But how long will it take for him to show his true longing for you? - Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader(gender neutral) - Warnings: Mentions of Kaz's trauma but nothing too detailed, just Kaz being desperate to be with you :) - A/N: Thank you so much for requesting anon! I hope this is okay, its my first fic ever so please leave any criticism or improvements you may have. also please let me know if we like this style of writing <33 PLEASE REQUEST!!

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Kaz had many things he wanted. Kruge, power, and revenge were among his most desired, however there was only one thing that he slowly began to realize he truly needed.

You.

After a long period of brushed hands and stolen glances, the Bastard of the Barrel had finally confessed his fondness for you, planting the seed of a rough but beautiful love. Even before the possibility of a true relationship bloomed, you knew that any form of intimacy was a weakness for Kaz, and an opportunity for his enemies to strike.

In order to counter this, you and Kaz spent endless hours breaking down his barriers within the confines of his room at the slat, and on occasion the office at the crow club. It began with small acts of service, bring Kaz tea when he was working too long, him bringing small gifts back from the market, even exchanged notes of gratitude or compliments.

As Kaz began to remove his armour, he reluctantly allowed you closer and closer, until the two of you began to work on his undeniable fear of physical contact.

It started off slowly and rarely, with his gloves still permanently clinging to his scarred hands as he adjusted to touching your arm or hand through several layers of material. Each attempt left Kaz with a bubbling feeling in his chest as if he was longing for something he couldn’t quite place, although he pushed down any thought of needing you more than he already did.

Each gentle smile, kind touch, or loving word chipped his armour more, growing the intensity of the feeling within his chest. A need for you.

This feeling buried itself deep within Kaz’s heart, growing in intensity each time he saw you, and consuming him completely if he ever saw you in the embrace of another.

Kaz trusted you fully, at least to his personal limit, having been raised by a city full of deception and misfortune himself. As a result, he would never blame you for seeking comfort in the touch of others despite your relationship, he knew it was cruel to deny you this, and was confident in your loyalty and love for him.

Yet his heart and mind found it easy to experience a taste of bitterness towards whoever was fortunate enough to be graced with a swift hug or gentle touch from you, often being another of his crows.

Deep down he knew it was immature of him to have something as low as jealousy completely overtake him, but each touch they received sent daggers flying directly through his chest, lodging themselves deeply into his already aching heart.

The boiling jealousy would be quickly dispelled as you made your way over to him, brushing your fingers over his gloved ones and smiling softly at the clearly frustrated boy.

As time went on, the touch Kaz’s body could allow increased, both in receiving and giving. Words of praise besides the touch aided in the rocky yet manageable journey, however eye contact was easily the most efficient way of communicating what both lovers meant.

To most throughout the barrel, a quick glance from the infamous Dregs leader is enough to set even the fiercest gang member’s blood racing, chilling their insides simultaneously with its razor-like edge.

Yet somehow, after studying your beautiful bosses face for long enough, you cracked the code on his impenetrable gaze, soon being able to decipher even the smallest slips of emotion through a twitch or a shift in his glare. Kaz often contemplated how you managed to read him so efficiently, settling on you perhaps using one of his own lock-picking techniques to unravel his emotions and ultimately, his heart.

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As a result of this skill, you were immediately able to sense a change in Kaz’s stance and mood as you gently shut the door to his office behind you and made your way over to his desk. “I brought you tea my love,” you quietly said, not wanting to provoke the clearly tense man in front of you.

Frequently Kaz would be in difficult moods after jobs, his mind buzzing with adrenaline and further plans for more tasks he needed to instantly begin planning. As you broke down his barriers, you managed to reduce this urgency, always gaining at least an hour or two to help him; bringing him tea, running him hot water to wash with, finding new books to discuss and read together, or even just admiring the city from the rooftops.

However this was different, the job was supposedly simple, but every aspect had gone awry and almost cost multiple dregs their lives. After complicated missions such as these, you knew Kaz needed space to breath, with a single glance in your direction a clear indicator of whether your presence was needed or not in that moment (however he always called for you as soon as he was able).

Tension radiated through the air, and although you weren’t afraid of his tempers like the others, you were feeling uneasy at your own inability to read what was crossing his mind. His shoulders were hunched as he slowly lifted his blistering gaze to meet yours, lacking the usual softness they held only for you, yet not containing any hostility.

He huffed out a sigh, stormy eyes locked on yours, thoughts racing inside, but not translating to his eyes, your only window into his troublesome mind. “I don’t know what to do” he finally muttered as you patiently waited for him to formulate his words.

After many hours spent with him, you had learnt how strenuous verbal communication was for him, and how often he just needed time to articulate his answers and force them out into the open. So, as he settled back into the silence of the office, you shifted the chair opposite to his and made yourself comfortable, allowing him to calm his raging thoughts with your familiar presence.

“Its too much. Each time we leave and come back it grips me, tighter and tighter,” he stumbles out, forcing the sounds of each word out of his mouth as if he is battling with his mind to allow them to be heard. Despite your lack of context, you gave a soft reassuring smile, nodding towards him and taking a sip of your tea to allow him a moment to breathe and continue.

“On jobs, or at the club, I can’t escape it,” he states breathlessly, before continuing, “How is it possible to need something so badly, yet my greatest need is the one thing I cannot truly have?” immediately signalling that this must be about his feeling of imprisonment his body forces upon him.

He slowly rose from his seat, limping towards you with a strong air of determination, eyes glued to yours as you scanned him in a failed attempt to decode his actions. You gazed up as he loomed over you, planting himself only a few feet away, the proximity making a beautiful warmth spread through your chest at his comfortability with you.

“I know I cannot give you what you need. You reassure me, yet I know it is not enough to live behind walls, barriers, defences.” He states, voice shaking at the end of each cadence, showing an impressive amount of bravery to admit his deepest concerns to you. He continued, “But I cannot live that way either,” his face leaning closer to yours, your breath suddenly hitching in your throat, cheeks glowing with a rosy flush.

“It’s too much, knowing I cannot have you in the way that you deserve. That…” he trails off, face shifting closer to yours with each word, inch by inch breaking down both of your defences. After swallowing thickly and regaining himself, he continues “That I want.”

By now his breath sends warm ripples across your skin, rendering you speechless at Kaz’s ability to fight his demons, striking them down for just enough time to reach you, even for a moment.

“But I know what I want, and I will be damned if anything stops me from getting it,” he demands, dangerously low, conflicting with the vulnerability displaying in his eyes, showing his internal conflict as he pushes his boundaries to the limit, leaving you certain the waters are chest high by now. However, his next action dispels any thoughts you had before, rendering you stunned.

“I want you,” he whispers before crashing his lips against yours.

Although it couldn’t have lasted longer than 3 seconds, the bliss that overwhelmed the pair of you was astounding, pure love radiating between you without the waters washing away the moment. Shortly after, the ocean regained its grip, forcing him to stumble back a good few feet, shaking violently and gripping the desk for support.

What surprised you the most was his expression.

He wore the faintest, yet most heartfelt smile you had ever seen grace his lips, filled with pride at his victory and ability to not only communicate, but finally act on his desires.

Your eyes pricked with tears as the emotions overcame you, your chest filling to the brim with love for the man, however you knew better than to stay any longer and prolong the inevitable current that was already overwhelming him. You stood quietly, slowly removing your jacket and placing it neatly on the table, eyes permanently glued to Kaz to ensure you remained a suitable distance.

He shakily nodded his head in thanks, breathing becoming shallower as he attempted to regain a sense of rhythm, grabbing the coat and waveringly making his way around his desk.

Early in the process of unravelling his fear of touch, you discovered that he found great solace in items of yours, especially for the times when he couldn’t convince his own mind that you were warm and present, not like the frigid bodies that plagued him. They gave him a piece of yourself to grasp onto when your physical presence was too much.

It shattered your heart into splinters at the idea of leaving him in this state, but you knew it was what he needed, and the certainty that within an hour or two he would be calling for your presence brought a sense of calm over you.

As you reached to lightly close the door, you looked up to find him staring at you through his trembling state, a triumphant look still faintly glittering in his eyes. You sent him a comforting smile, tears creating a glassy sheen over your eyes, illuminated by the candlelit office.

“I’m proud of you Kaz. So proud, more than you could ever know. I’ll see you later my love,” you breathed, loud enough for him to hear.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you shut the door, as the pride, pain, and love overwhelmed your senses. A lone tear slipped as you descended the stairs to process the night’s event, which unbeknownst to you, mirrored the boy sat in his office.

Kaz also shed a single tear amongst the panic his body forced upon him, however instead of the pure pain, grief, and dread that usually fell, a strong sense of victory escaped with that tear too.

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[stellar-haikyuu]

get well soon ☆ shirabu kenjirou x reader

synopsis: second-year reader has been shirabu’s classmate and academic rival since their first year. when reader overworks themselves and they break down during a test, shirabu is unexpectedly “kind.” details: academic rivals to friends/lovers, some angst, hurt/comfort, ~3.2k words, gn! reader. warnings: some descriptions of reader having low self-esteem and test anxiety :( also, this is long; i hope the time skips are clear.

Sometimes, you wonder how you ended up here. 

You were excited to finally reach the last leg of your high school journey after years of studying at Shiratorizawa Academy. 

Of course, you knew the climb would only get harder, but you had no idea the mountain would be this rocky.

Your goal was clear: consistently be at the top of your class, for at least two out of three terms every year. 

When you started your first year, the classes seemed pretty manageable. You didn’t think you’d have any trouble.

That was until your classmate, Shirabu Kenjirou, came out on top in the first term.

He didn’t say that much, but his scores spoke for themselves. Threatened, you pushed back.

You recited at least once every class. You volunteered to help your teachers. You made damn sure that you’d be congratulated for getting the highest test scores.

By then, you knew you had his attention.

An academic rivalry was not part of your plan; but for the sake of maintaining a competitive medical school application, you told yourself to accept it. 

And apparently, he has plans to apply to med school, too! Great!

Through sheer determination, you successfully beat him by the end of the second term. When you came home to your family for winter break, you proudly shared the news.

Come third term, everyone in your class knew you two were battling it out. Even the teachers caught on and reminded you two to keep the competition friendly.

Nobody would ever forget your pair work in social studies that ended in an impromptu debate about the Japanese economy. Your teacher just sighed and reiterated that your grade was shared, not separate.

Despite it all, you survived…only to end up tied with him in the class ranking. It was so unlikely, but somehow, the cumulative totals of your percentages were equal.

You had no idea how it made you feel, but you prayed to everyone and everything, hoping it would come to an end.

However, the day you walked into your new second-year classroom, you wondered if your wishes fell on deaf ears.

Sat in the front row was the sandy-haired boy with the infuriating bowl cut bangs.

You know it’s not like you, but you crave seeing the sour look on Shirabu’s face whenever you win against him.

It’s become second nature to send him a sickly sweet smile each time you get praised by a teacher.

You couldn’t help it, not when you found out he became the starting setter for Shiratorizawa’s volleyball team this year. 

Sports was never something you cared about, as you’d rather spend the rest of the afternoon studying. But, it irked you to see how well he seemed to balance his extracurriculars with his academics.

No, you even envied it—the training was no joke. Your friends tell you that it’s constant early morning and late afternoon training, plus a harsh coach. 

Yet, the guy comes into class acing his assignments, almost as if he hasn’t spent hours of his day throwing and hitting balls.

Just for once, you want to see him break.

You feel ashamed to think that way about someone, but sometimes, it seems easier to be resentful.

It didn’t help that he was constantly being congratulated by classmates and teachers because Shiratorizawa won the Miyagi Interhigh Tournament.

Internally, you were happy because it meant not seeing him in class for a while. But the more you thought about it…

He’s going to Tokyo for Nationals. He plays with a team. He has a life outside of academics. 

You? You’ve got nothing going on.

Your days all blend together: late-night studying, rushed breakfast, intense classes, library time, dinner, studying some more. Repeat.

Your roommate offers company, though they're equally busy, chasing their own dream of becoming a lawyer. 

And while you see friends at lunch, you’ve started declining invites to go out, even on weekends. You can barely recall what the arcade or nearby cafés look like.

You always say you need more time to study. That you’re tired and want to rest. There’s truth to your reasons, yet you feel frustrated.

Unfulfilled. 

Pissed.

Why can’t I be like him?

Adding insult to injury, they release the first-term grade cards and class rankings. 

Just like last year, Shirabu took the top spot. You came in second, but only by a small, decimal point difference.

Something twists in your gut.

Normally, you do pretty decently in your mathematics classes, but it doesn’t mean you never struggle with the lessons.

The second-term curriculum seems to be out to get you though. Limits? Elementary Calculus? Where in the world would you need this kind of math in your life?

Lately, you’ve been observing Shirabu at the library on his free days. You wait until he brings out the math textbooks and worksheets, then time how long it takes him to finish studying.

It takes him about half the time it takes you. 

You’re not even surprised when he’s applauded for getting the highest mark on the lastest math test.

Of course. He has a way with numbers that I don’t.

When you receive your test paper, you stare at the red ink. You passed, but only by a few points. Relief and disappointment swirl inside you.

The teacher starts to go over the items that most students had difficulty with, but you don’t pay attention. You can’t, not when you know everything’s starting to fall apart.

For the first time in your life, you felt the danger of failure. It was terrifying.

You can feel Shirabu gazing at you, but you don’t look back.

He’s not important now. You need to survive.

If he starts wondering why you stopped going to the library, it’s none of his business.

A distraction is the last thing you need.

You stop talking to everyone, choosing to stick your head between your books during break.

You no longer recite in every single class. Once a day is enough to conserve your mental energy.

The weekends are reserved for a strict study regimen that gives you more time to study for math.

Your classmates whisper about you. They send concerned looks your way.

Some teachers ask if you’re okay, but you say that you’re fine.

You should be. 

You have to be.

Two weeks have passed, and there’s another stupid math test coming. Tomorrow, to be exact.

Your dorm room is silent. Your roommate has long fallen asleep on their desk, knocked out from working on their chemistry assignments.

It’s past midnight now, but you’re only halfway through the test coverage—partially, it’s also thanks to an English project draft that was also due tomorrow.

Your head is buzzing with anxious thoughts, worries that you’ll forget everything you’ve spent days studying.

I need to pass, I need to pass, I need to pass…

The numbers and symbols start to fly around the page. The steps starts to lose all sense of logic.

You don’t even register your eyelids drooping and the pencil falling out of your hands.

Fatigue is a tough thing to fight off. 

The next time you blink, it’s to wake up.

Both you and your roommate jolt at your morning alarms.

When did I fall asleep?

You groan and sit up, massaging a small cramp out of your neck. Your head has a lingering ache, you realize, as you wipe away a small amount of drool from the corner of your lips.

But you have no time to think about it. You need to get ready for the day.

The rest of the morning goes by in a haze. You pick up one of the energy bars on your bedside table. You feel like you can’t really eat anything more, anyway.

There’s a pit in your stomach. You suppose it’s hunger, test anxiety, or something else.

Whatever, whatever, I’m going to be late.

Your roommate gives you one last “good luck” before you both dash to your classrooms in the high school building.

Thankfully, all your morning classes were either entirely new lessons or reviews of familiar material. You cannot listen to anything your teachers are saying.

On your desk, your physics notebook is secretly opened. You try to review what you can, but it’s tough.

You feel like nodding off at any moment. The room feels hotter than usual, too.

When recess comes around, you’ve lost your appetite entirely. It’s an odd, contradicting feeling. You’re hungry and you know you need to eat, but you don’t want to.

Maybe you shouldn’t. You feel like you might throw up if you do. Lunch comes right after anyway, so you’ll wait until the nerves are gone.

It’s time. 

Your teacher walks into the room and you cannot believe that you’re about to take the dreaded test. Your legs can’t stop shaking. 

Somehow, the worst sensations are hitting your body all at once. Heat, chills, nausea, sluggishness, and some sort of brain fog.

You can’t even focus on the final reminders that your teacher is giving you. There’s some chatter from your classmates, but it’s all garbled noise in your ears. 

Every second feels like a century. The testing sheets make their way down each column, and you whisper one last prayer before your papers are passed to you.

Oh god.

Even though you’re staring directly at the page, none of the words or numbers register. The questions send a shiver down your spine.

How the hell do I do this again?

Breathe.

Breathe.

You’ve studied this.

You try to focus on the simpler questions first, to get them out of the way. You avoid reading the last few pages to give yourself some peace of mind.

You’re thankful that there are some parts with multiple choice questions, but your mind spins, trying to comprehend the conceptual aspects of your math lesson.

Your heart starts to pound wildly in your chest. You grip your pencil tightly as you attempt to solve or answer something.

You manage to come up with responses, but you get the feeling that there may have been something wrong in your computations. If there’s one thing you hated about mathematics, it’s how the careless mistakes result in a domino effect.

Whatever. It’s done. Next part.

You glance around the classroom, seeing nothing but your classmates working around you. Nobody seems to be struggling like you were.

Maybe they’re better at hiding it. It’s fine. It’s fine.

As you progress to the other questions, you find it increasingly challenging to concentrate and recall the steps. Nothing is surfacing to your memory. You feel like your skull is just stuffed with cotton.

What’s wrong with me?

The feeling is overwhelming. You look at the clock, realizing that you’ve already spent half the period on less than half of the questions.

I might not finish.

I don’t know what to do.

Nothing makes sense anymore. You feel like your insides are going to explode. Everything hurts. You feel like throwing up. It’s cold and hot and you don’t understand it.

I’m going to fail. 

The very thought brings your anxiousness to a peak. Tears fall from your eyes without warning. Your pencil drops to the floor as you hold your head in your hands.

It’s like a dam breaks.

It’s not long before you catch your classmates’ and teacher’s attention.

You can hear your teacher call out to you, but you don’t know what to to say. You register her coming closer, asking you questions with surprise and concern.

“Darling, what’s the matter?”

You can’t stop crying. Your mind runs a mile a minute.

You feel a cold hand on your forehead, and there’s a hiss that follows.

"You're burning up," she mutters, a crease of worry in her brow. "I think you've got a fever. You should go to the nurse. We can schedule a make-up test this week."

You sniffle and nod in response. The teacher takes your test booklet, giving your shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze before returning to her desk.

"Is there anyone finished? Kindly help them to the nurse if so," she asks, her voice echoing in the quiet classroom.

You don’t even realize who volunteers. You just want this to end.

There's a small tap on your shoulder. "Hey, let’s go." It's a voice you know all too well.

You look up to find none other than Shirabu standing over you.

Of course he's already finished, you think bitterly to yourself.

You muster a weak nod, feeling even smaller as he helps you pack up your things.

The hallway is nearly deserted, with a faint murmur of voices and the shuffling of distant footsteps. You’re aware of the sideway glances that a few students and teachers give you as they pass by.

You cover your face with your hands; you’ve always hated what you looked like when you cry. 

And I just had to break down in front of him like this.

To your surprise though, you notice that Shirabu’s matching his pace to yours. Shirabu always walks quickly, often a few steps ahead of anyone else. But right now, he's walking just slow enough that, if you picked up the pace, you'd be side-by-side.

Is he only doing this because the teacher asked him? But she isn’t here to see him right now, so-

"What happened to you?" His voice cuts through your thoughts.

You startle at his question, expecting this entire walk to be silent.

“I…I don’t know.” Your voice is still a little thick. “I couldn’t answer the questions at all.”

"No. I meant, why'd you go even if you were sick?"

“Oh.” You sniffle, embarrassed. “I thought I could handle it…didn’t know it would be this bad. Just wanted to show up.”

Shirabu goes quiet for a moment, before asking more questions.

“How long have you been feeling this way? Did you even eat or drink anything? You didn’t do either during recess.”

His questions catch you off guard. You can’t believe that he’s asking you something this personal. There’s no bite to his words. Just genuine curiosity.

“Uh,” you falter. You try to think back to yesterday and this morning. “Well, I…”

"You...?" He prompts, urging you to continue. 

“Um, I mean, I’ve been tired lately. Who wouldn’t be?” You mutter.

Shirabu raises his eyebrows.

Ugh, he won’t stop until I tell him.

“I didn’t really eat a lot yesterday.” You sigh. “Energy bar this morning. Water, I don’t know how much.”

You can see the gears turning as he processes your response. “So, you haven’t been eating, drinking, and resting enough. Surely, you would have realized this wouldn’t end well for you?”

Hearing him say it out loud suddenly makes you feel defensive. It feels like he’s about to counter your argument in a debate—a deliberate search for weak spots.

“Well, sorry about that, Mister Perfect."

“What?”

“I get it! I don’t have my damn life together right now!” You grit your teeth together in frustration.

"How will you practice medicine without taking care of yourself?" Shirabu responds.

Oh, you’ve done it.

“Why the hell do you care?” You snap. Fresh tears spring to your eyes. 

The both of you stop walking and a heavy atmosphere settles after your emotional outburst. 

Shirabu doesn’t respond immediately, which somehow makes you feel worse. You feel stupid for overreacting.

“Look,” he says quietly. “I’m not trying to be mean. It’s just that…you have to make it.”

Your head lifts up in surprise. “W-What?”

“You have to make it into medicine.”

“Why?”

“That’s your dream, isn’t it?”

“I, yes…” Your voice is soft. You’re not sure what he’s trying to get at. “But what’s it to you if I achieve it or not?”

“We need more brilliant doctors.”

That stuns you and you chuckle in disbelief at his words.

“Don’t mess with me. You can’t be so sure,” you mutter.

“I’m usually right about things,” he deadpans.

You glare at him, though a small part of you is thankful for that tinge of “normalcy” at a moment like this.

“Just...” He sighs, pausing to think. “I’ve never met someone that pushed to work this hard academically.”

You let out a weak laugh. “Hm. The feeling is mutual, Shirabu.”

There’s a few beats of silence before he continues. 

“You still feel that way now? Is that why you pushed yourself to take this test instead of resting?”

“Maybe…I don’t know,” you answer. Your brain can only take so much now. “But whatever. I get it—I’ve been making a lot of stupid decisions.”

“Then don’t make any more,” Shirabu says in a firm voice. He turns his entire body to face you, and his hands settle on your shoulders. “Listen to me.”

“Woah, what-”

“You better follow what the nurse says so you can recover.” He pauses, considering his next words carefully. “Once you’re better, I’m going to help you with math.” 

He grip tightens for just a moment before he lets go. When his words sink in, you blink at him, bewildered. 

“I’m sorry, did you get hit in the head by a volleyball?”

“I’m serious,” he glares.

“Why are you doing this? You’re helping me?”

“Did you not hear what I said earlier? I want you to make it.”

“...into medicine.” You whisper, completing his statement. 

Wait. “I want?” Didn’t he say-

“Yes.” He continues walking, but halts for a moment to look over his shoulder. “Come on.”

You follow. 

“And you plan on making it to medicine, too, Shirabu.” 

“Mhm,” he responds with absolute certainty.

As you both round the corner, the nurse’s office comes into view. You decide to ask the question forming in your mind before you lose the chance to.

“Are you saying that you want me to stick around?”

You brave a quick glance at his face, but the intensity in his eyes takes your breath away.

“I do.”

At some point, you drifted off after the nurse questioned you and guided you to one of the beds.

You vaguely remember Shirabu holding on to your belongings and lingering for a while before the nurse dismissed him.

“Hi, darling,” the nurse says, noticing you sit up. “Are you feeling a little better?”

“Yes,” you respond. Your fever’s gone down, according to the thermometer, though you still feel groggy.

“That’s good. I think you can go return to your dorm once you’re ready.”

You nod in response and you thank the nurse for her assistance. She moves to return to her desk, but then she stops.

“By the way…” She faces you again. “That kind boy from your class brought you some food from the cafeteria.”

Huh?

She points to the wrapped bowl on your bedside table. 

“Oh, I see. Thank you.”

Shirabu bringing you food was already surprising, but what truly catches your eye are the pages of class notes held together by a metal paperclip.

You gasp once you read the sticky note on top.

These are notes from today’s classes.  Review them when you’ve recovered. Take your meds, eat, hydrate, and rest properly. Get well soon. - Shirabu

masterlist

karasuno fic event: stellar's stationery (ongoing)

[intheemptymirror]

bad habit !

idol!sumin x fem!reader

summary: sumin has a bad biting habit— and you are not exempt from it.

genre: fluff, slightly suggestive

warnings: biting (duh), a bit suggestive in the last scenario but it’s fluffy otherwise, sumin and reader are said to be the same age (20), in the first two scenarios sumin and reader aren’t dating yet (just crushes) but in the last two they are (//∇//)

a/n: my first xikers post! and also like my first full fic ever (⌒▽⌒) there’s a serious lack of xikers content on this site, i’ve already read through all of it 💀 but i hope this small fic is enough to make other roady’s on here happy too. i have a jinsik drabble im working on too so pls look forward to that (*´∇｀*) lowkey the second scenario gave me crazy butterflies like it made me giddy af (before the ending anyways) and i was the one that wrote it 😭 but i feel like my writing is super obviously amateur, which makes me a bit embarrassed but hopefully this is an enjoyable read anyways 。・°°・(＞_＜)・°°・。

sumin loved to use his teeth.

you found this out when you were both six and in elementary school and he bit you because you took the toy he was wanting to play with for recess. it went about as well as you’d imagine. you started crying before swinging the toy down and hitting sumin on the back with it, causing him to burst out into tears as well. in the end, both of your parents were called and you got the scolding of a life time from your mother when you got home.

sumin brought a sweet flavored candy the next day along with a slightly less sweet apology. he didn’t make eye contact with you and he mumbled out a simple “sorry” and nothing else before shoving the candy your way, but you accepted the both of them nonetheless. you gave him a toothy smile (which in sumin’s opinion was the sweetest thing he had with him that day, though he’d never admit it) before taking his hand in yours and dragging him out to play. despite the severely rocky start to your friendship, the both of you had been inseparable ever since.

maybe it was this first experience with each other that let you stay so close with each other even fourteen years later, because from the very beginning you knew what he was— a biter.

— !

the xiker’s boys had invited you over to one of their dorms for their monthly hangout night— ideally it would be a weekly thing, but their schedules never allowed for rest days that consistently. being sumin’s best friend since before he even knew about the existence of xikers, you had gotten pretty close with the rest of them. of course, sumin has and always will be your favorite— much to the disdain of the others.

you stood behind the couch with a smile on your face while seeun, minjae, and yechan occupied the cushions. all of your gazes were completely locked onto the tv, where a very intense and serious game of mario kart was occurring. “seeun, stop cheating!” minjae yelled out when said boy started to move into minjae’s space in an attempt to distract him, his body being bumped into yechan who was on his right. this only made yechan start to push back against minjae, eventually leading to the three boys getting into each others personal space in an attempt to completely sabotage their gameplay.

their shenanigans caused small giggles to leave your lips, completely unaware of the set of eyes that were locked onto you instead of the game. sumin stood off to the side by the dining table, leaning against the wall with a fond look on his face. when sumin had first thought of introducing you to his members, he was truthfully a little nervous. “what if they don’t like each other?” “what if they get into a fist fight?” “what if someone dies and the night is plagued with that experience forever and as a result they can never get along?” sumin knows now that all of those thoughts were absolutely ridiculous (some more so than others), but he truly just wanted all of his favorite people to like each other as much as he did.

“careful, if you stare any harder they might burst into flames.” the flat voice that seemingly appeared out of nowhere made sumin jump before he looked to his left where junghoon was eyeing him with his arms crossed and a knowing look on his face. sumin’s surprise relaxed before he tensed up again at junghoon’s implications. he forced out an awkward laugh and shook his head. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

junghoon didn’t say anything, but with a gaze like his, he didn’t really need to. his expression seemingly stayed the same, but sumin didn’t miss the way his eyes narrowed and his eyebrows subtly raised. sumin swallowed harshly and seemed to sink into himself as he looked away from junghoon in an unsuccessful attempt to escape his judgment. he looked back over to him before he let out a sigh of acceptance, reluctantly nodding gently. “yeah i know…” sumin mumbled before the sound of your laughter ringing through the air made him bring his attention back to you.

he smiled at how the sight of your smile filled his chest with warmth before he mindlessly started walking over to you, as if following you was simply second nature to him (and he really would follow you anywhere). he comes up behind you and wraps his strong arms around your waist, the sudden intrusion causing you to jump before you realize who it is and immediately relax. sumin rests his cheek on your shoulder and smiles up at you as you melt into his warmth. “hi.”

you raise your brow at him as the corner of your mouth starts to twitch up into a ghost of a smile. “hi.” you say back, making sumin’s grin grow before he nudges his face into the crook of your neck. you huff out a laugh and bring your hand up to tangle into his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp with your nails. the gentle feeling of your hand in his hair made his body involuntarily relax as he sighed out against your neck, his warm breath sending a shiver up your spine. you turn your attention back to the tv in front of you, but you’re more focused on the way sumin’s warm hands feel pressed against your stomach, his thumb soothingly rubbing back and forth.

“sumin! come help us cut vegetables.” hunter’s voice called out for him from the kitchen, causing you to jump slightly at the sudden sound and causing sumin’s shoulders to slump and let out a loud groan in protest. “less whining, more helping!” sumin sighed before he smiled in defeat, his teeth brushing against your neck as if forewarning what was to come. he quickly tightened his arms around your waist and bit into your shoulder before unwrapping himself from you and running off to where hunter needed him. “hey!” your hand comes up to touch the spot on your shoulder where his teeth had been, a disbelieving smile on your lips. sumin turns, scrunches his nose and sticks his tongue out at you, before turning the corner and disappearing off into the kitchen.

— !

it was one of the very rare times sumin had been granted a break by KQ, and a week long one at that. the company decided that they deserved it after their hard work promoting their recent comeback, but if they asked you, you would’ve said they deserved it always. while some of the boys decided to stay at the dorms, others had ventured their way back home to visit family, sumin being one of them. despite still going to visit him at the dorms often, it never felt like it was enough, so you were over the moon to have him back for a whole week.

the first day or two you had left him alone to spend some much needed time with his parents and brother, but after that he had crawled his way back to you, claiming that it had been too long since he last saw you (two days) and pestering you non-stop to spend the night. ‘just like humans need water to survive, sumins need y/ns to survive,’ is what he had said, which only earned him an eyeroll and light smack to the head.

and so, you both laid side by side in the dark of his room, the only light coming from the moon shining through the window. you laid on your side with your hands rested in the empty space between you two, close enough to feel the heat radiating from each other but not so close that you were actually touching.

you let out a soft giggle, trying your absolute hardest to stay quiet so as not to disturb his family from their sleep. “okay, okay. if you had to be stranded in the middle of space with any of your members, who would you pick?”

“i’d take my helmet off.” you let out a huff of air and smacked him on the arm, making sumin giggle out and put his hands up in surrender.

“okay, okay! i’m kidding! hm… jinsik.” sumin says with a decisive nod of his head. you smile and raise your eyebrows.

“really?” sumin lets out a small ‘mhm’ and nods making you hum in thought and nod slowly. a cheshire like smile grows on your face as an idea starts to form in your head. “that’s not that surprising i guess. if it was between being stuck in the middle of space with me or being stuck in the middle of space with jinsik, who would you choose?”

“you.”

he said the word with so much conviction, as if it was a message written by the hand of god himself and delivered to you through the mouth of sumin. the sturdiness of his word caught you off guard, your smile falling as everything grows quiet between the two of you. the rest of the world seems to fall away as you stare at him and he stares at you. you watch his eyes drift across your face: your eyes, your nose, your cheeks, your lips. you let your own eyes wander down to his lips, swallowing harshly when his gaze snaps back up to your eyes and catches you.

his hand shifts in the bed slightly, as if he was scared that any sudden movements would scare you off entirely; would scare you off eternally. when you don’t do so much as even flinch, he takes a deep, shaky breath as if to steel himself before he stretches out his pinky to gently touch the soft side of your hand. you look down at your hands before looking back into sumin’s eyes, your own pinky moving to gently rest itself over his. you sit like that for a moment, interlocking your pinkies before he gently takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together. you let the perfect feeling of his hand pressed against yours sink into your bones, seeping through the marrow to rest gently in the deepest part of your soul, where you decided it would stay protected for the rest of your life.

your heart stutters as he shuffles just that much closer, his eyes drifting back down to your lips. you subconsciously hold your breath in anticipation, the tension between you two looming over like a thick blanket. he blinks a few times, as if shaking a thought out of his head before he drags your connected hands up to his mouth and sinks his teeth into the plush skin on the side of your hand. you let out a gasp and squeal as you try to pry your hand from his assault, your joint laughters replacing the odd feeling that had overtaken the room previously. the tension disappeared, never to be mentioned again that night.

— !

you swung your arms back and forth as a gentle summer breeze blew through your hair, your sandals being held in one hand by the straps. you stared at the sandy ground, watching as the warm water of the ocean reached the tips of your toes only to slink back again as you waited for sumin to show up. you guys had been dating for about a month at this point and had hung out multiple times throughout, but this was your first official date. you had once mentioned to him offhandedly that you would’ve liked to go to the beach with a boyfriend, something you thought he would’ve long forgotten, but he surprised you when he asked if you were free that weekend, telling you he was taking you out on that date.

he had a short practice that morning so he told you to go on ahead and that he’d meet you there straight after. you were strung a bit tight from nerves, so you had gotten there about 15 minutes prior to the meet up time, so you knew you would be waiting a bit, but you still couldn’t help but feel nervous that maybe sumin was going to stand you up. you knew sumin, maybe even more than you knew yourself, so you know deep down he’d never do something like that, but your brain had a funny way of hating you, filling your head with negative thoughts. you gently walked back and forth a few paces along the shore line: what if he never shows up? what if after this date he decides he doesn’t really like me that way? what if he dies trying to meet me here?

“y/n!”

you hear a loud voice call for you from behind, turning to look over your shoulder at the source. and there he was: standing a few feet away at the top of the concrete steps leading to the beach, out of breath and a little sweaty, with a smile you thought burned you brighter than the hot summer sun ever could. sumin— your sumin.

you smile back and raise your hand to wave at him. he bolts towards you, skipping the last few steps of the stairs and stumbling from the unstable grounding of the sand before barreling towards you without any signs of slowing down. you giggle and brace yourself for impact before he reaches you, his arms coming out to wrap around your waist and lifting you up. he stumbles forward into the water, splashing some of it up onto you both, but neither of you can really bring yourselves to care all that much.

he shakes you around a bit before he sets you down, staring at you with a love sick smile as you giggle and fix your now messed up hair. “sorry i’m late.”

you shake your head at him. “you’re not late, i was just early.”

he pouts and affectionately squeezes your cheek between his pointer and thumb. “if i ever make you wait then that means i was late.” you scoff and roll your eyes at him but the sparkle in your eye never leaves. “now c’mon. we have a date to attend to.” he leans his face down close to yours, and you close your eyes and scrunch up your nose in surprise before his hot breath hits your cheek and his teeth sink into the warm skin on your face.

you blink in surprise at him as he pulls away with a teasing grin before it registers in your head what he had just done, your brows furrowing and your plump lips morphing into a pout. you had taken a deep breath in preparation to complain but before any words could be let out, he leaned down one more time to press a quick kiss to your cheek, clasping your hand in his and turning to walk towards one of the little food stands someone had set up along the coast. he stuck his tongue out at you through his teeth as if to say ‘gotcha’, but you couldn’t stop your own happy smile from forming on your face, your cheeks warming up from something other than the sun this time.

the feeling of his hand in yours feels different now than it did when you first took his hand on that playground all those years ago, but just like back then, it still feels like you’re holding something precious.

— !

sumin was currently at practice with the rest of his team members, but you missed him, so you were in his bed doom-scrolling on your phone while you waited for him to finish up with practice so you could surprise him. you check how much longer until sumin said he should be back: 30 minutes. you heave a loud sigh into the otherwise quiet room and drop your phone on the bed before closing your eyes and burying your face in his pillow, letting the scent of sumin’s cologne engulf you.

you’re not sure how long you lay like that, but pretty soon the sound of the door swinging open makes you lift your head from the fabric, looking over to the culprit. in the door frame stands an exhausted sumin, his movements sluggish and heavy. he looks up to find you tucked into his bed, his eyes lighting up when he catches sight of you, the view immediately filling him with new energy.

“baby!” he exclaims, dropping his bag on the floor unceremoniously before launching himself into your arms. you laugh at how he went from zero to one hundred in seemingly a split second as he wraps his arms around you and nuzzles into your neck. your arms come up to rest around his shoulders as your hand tangles into his soft hair. “missed you.” he mumbles out into your skin before pressing a kiss onto your neck, then your jaw, then your cheek, before your entire face has been touched by his lips. you giggle at the vibration of his words against your neck before the source of your laughs turn into the feeling of his lips on you, your hand on his back soothingly rubbing back and forth on his shoulder blades.

he pulls back to look into your eyes with a lovesick smile on his face, but you’re sure you look the same as you gaze into his eyes as well. his hand comes up to cup your cheek, the pad of his thumb rubbing back and forth on your cheek. “tough practice?” you ask, but you already know the answer.

“you have no idea.” sumin replies, the tension in his shoulders relaxing as he huffs out a laugh before he takes your hand in his and brings it up to his mouth. already sensing what was happening, you rip your hand out of his grip with a knowing smile. the action only makes sumin laugh before he leans in to gently bite your jaw. you let out a small noise of protest and gently push and smack at his shoulders, but there’s not any force behind it. you break out into giggles as he bites your jaw again before moving down to hook his teeth into your shoulder.

it sends a shudder up your spine as a breathy, nearly inaudible sigh leaves your lips, the action not going unnoticed by sumin. you feel him grin against your skin before pressing a soft kiss to it, the air in the room suddenly growing thick with tension. “what’s wrong baby?” he teases, his hands sliding down your body before his fingers stop to press into the softness of your waist. he sinks his teeth into your shoulder again, keeping his mouth there for longer this time as he sucks a dark spot into the skin. he licks the bruise lightly to soothe it before moving across to your collarbone to bite into that too.

you let him move his teeth across your skin, dark purple and red spots blooming all across your neck, shoulders, and chest. you can hear and feel him groan into your skin at the taste of your skin on his tongue, your chest heaving with every heavy breath you take. you arch your chest into him as you tilt your head back at the attention he’s giving you before you start to gain some clarity and push against his chest to get him to stop.

“w-wait, what about yechan? he could walk in here at any minute.” he pulls back far enough to look at your face, but close enough to keep you in his arms. you looked like a mess: your hair was disheveled, you were still panting from his ministrations, and you were littered with marks and a thin sheen of spit from sumin’s tongue practically everywhere, but sumin still thought you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. despite your distress, sumin seems unbothered at the mention of his roommate, a smirk making its way onto his face, as if he knew something that you didn’t.

“he decided to stay behind to practice a bit more.” he leans into your face, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. “so we have more than enough time.” he whispers lowly before kissing your lips softly. “to do whatever,” kiss. “we,” kiss. “want,” he takes your lips in his as you let out a weak whine into his mouth before melting into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

maybe this habit of his wasn’t so bad after all.

[caitified]

https://www.tumblr.com/caitified/765178161697898496/for-the-10k-caitlin-fic-it-could-maybe-be-like-an

100% indy! like maybe reader’s a new rookie

rivals?

caitlin clark x reader

warnings:arguing

i don’t know exactly how long this one is i didn’t word count but enjoy

transferring to the indiana fever was supposed to be a fresh start. after a rocky stint with the seattle storm, you had hoped for something new—something better. the fever had always been known for their chemistry, their teamwork, and you wanted to be part of that. you wanted to make a difference. but you hadn’t expected her.

caitlin clark.

you’d watched her dominate in college, her highlight reels splashing across every sports channel, and now here you were, standing across from her in your first practice. she was a star, no doubt about it. you knew this was her team, and the last thing you wanted was to step on her toes. but from the moment you walked into the gym, it felt like you were an intruder.

“hey, welcome to the team,” several players had said, giving you warm smiles and pats on the back. you were used to this—being the new face, trying to find your place among the veterans. but while others were kind, caitlin’s reception was… frosty, to say the least.

“don’t mess up,” she’d said in a tone that was clearly meant to sound like a joke, but the way her eyes narrowed as she looked at you told a different story. you had brushed it off, figuring it was just part of the competitive nature of the sport. maybe she was testing you.

but then, it kept happening.

during the first few drills, she was right there—always watching, always commenting on your every move. “a little quicker next time,” she said after you completed a passing drill, even though your timing had been perfect. “you missed that screen,” she added after a scrimmage, despite the fact that you had set it exactly where you were supposed to.

it wasn’t that her comments were harsh; it was that they felt unnecessary, like she was trying to find fault with you.

you caught the look one of your new teammates, aliyah, gave you during a water break. she noticed it too. “don’t let her get to you,” she said quietly, leaning in so only you could hear. “caitlin’s… intense. she’ll warm up eventually.”

“yeah?” you asked, unconvinced. “because it feels like she already hates me.”

aliyah shrugged. “it’s not personal. she’s just… she has this thing about new people. give it time.”

you wanted to believe that, but every time you looked across the gym, caitlin’s eyes were on you, sharp and critical. you tried to shake it off, focus on your own game, but it was hard when the star of the team clearly didn’t want you there.

at the end of practice, as you were grabbing your gear, caitlin approached you, her expression unreadable. “you did alright today,” she said, her voice flat.

“thanks, i think?” you replied, not sure if it was a compliment or another subtle dig.

she didn’t say anything else, just nodded and walked away. you watched her go, feeling the tension settle into your chest. this was going to be harder than you thought.

🪽🪽🪽

as the weeks went on, the tension between you and caitlin only grew. every practice, every game, she was there, hovering, critiquing, pushing. she never outright said anything cruel, but the undercurrent of her words was always the same: you didn’t belong here.

it was exhausting.

“you know, she’s not always like this,” aliya said one day after practice as you both sat in the locker room, cooling down from a particularly grueling session. “before you came, she was actually pretty chill. focused, sure, but not… whatever this is.”

“and now?”

aliyah gave you a sympathetic look. “now, she’s got this weird chip on her shoulder. i don’t know if it’s you, or if it’s just that she’s feeling the pressure of being the team leader, but something’s definitely up.”

you sighed, wiping the sweat from your brow. “i just don’t get why she’s taking it out on me. i’m not trying to take her spot or anything. i just want to play.”

“i know,” aliyah said. “but caitlin… she’s competitive. sometimes too competitive. she’ll come around.”

you weren’t so sure.

the next practice was more of the same. every time you touched the ball, caitlin was there, guarding you harder than necessary, calling out your every move, pointing out things you were sure she wouldn’t have noticed if it were someone else.

“you need to move faster off the pick,” she snapped after a scrimmage, her tone harsher than usual.

“i did move fast,” you shot back, tired of her constant criticism. “maybe if you actually paid attention, you’d see that.”

for a moment, caitlin’s eyes flashed with something—surprise, maybe anger—but she quickly masked it with her usual cold indifference. “whatever. just try to keep up.”

you felt your jaw tighten as you watched her walk away, frustration boiling in your chest. you didn’t know how much longer you could take this. every day, it felt like she was testing you, pushing you, trying to make you crack.

and the worst part? you were starting to crack.

🪽🪽🪽🪽

despite the growing tension with caitlin, you were starting to settle in with the rest of the team. aliyah had become your go-to confidante, and a few other players—kelsey and nalyssa—had started hanging out with you after practices, grabbing dinner or going out for drinks. you felt like you were finally finding your place, building relationships with people who genuinely liked you.

except caitlin.

the more you bonded with the others, the more it seemed to irritate her. she never said anything outright, but you could feel her watching you, her glares becoming more pointed, her comments more biting.

“you’re really fitting in with the team, huh?” she’d remarked one day after practice as you laughed with kelsey and nalyssa.

“yeah, i guess so,” you replied, unsure of what she was getting at.

“just don’t get too comfortable,” she added before walking off, leaving you standing there, confused and frustrated.

🪽🪽🪽🪽

things came to a head one evening after a particularly intense scrimmage. practice had been hard enough with the usual drills, but this time coach had them set up a mock game. tensions were already high, and you could feel the competitive energy crackling through the air. caitlin had been on you all night, dogging your every step, making snide comments under her breath about your movements, your shots, your decisions.

you were doing your best to ignore her, focusing on your game, trying to keep your head in it. but the final play of the night pushed you over the edge.

it was supposed to be a simple pick-and-roll. you saw your opening and took it, cutting past the defense and going in for a layup. except caitlin, who was supposed to back off after the screen, didn’t. instead, she rushed in, slamming into you midair and knocking you hard to the ground.

pain shot up your arm as you landed awkwardly, the ball bouncing away as the whistle blew. a few of the players rushed over to help you up, but you waved them off, your eyes locked on caitlin, who stood a few feet away, breathing hard, her expression unreadable.

“what the hell was that?” you snapped, pushing yourself to your feet.

“what?” caitlin replied, her tone defensive. “it was just a play.”

“just a play? you didn’t have to hit me like that.”

she shrugged, clearly unbothered. “maybe if you weren’t so focused on showing off, you wouldn’t have gotten hit.”

that was it. you’d had enough.

“showing off?” you repeated, stepping closer to her, your voice rising. “i’m trying to play, caitlin. i’m trying to be part of this team, but you—”

“but what?” she cut in, her voice just as sharp. “you think you’re the only one who wants to play? you think you can just waltz in here and take over?”

“take over?” you scoffed, feeling your anger surge. “i’m not trying to take anything from you! you’re the one making this impossible. you’re the one who’s been on my case since the day i got here, and for what? because i’m new? because i get along with the team?”

“you think this is about the team?” she snapped, stepping closer until she was right in front of you, her eyes blazing. “this is about you. you think you’re so perfect, so great. you come in here and everyone loves you, and i’m just supposed to what? step aside and let you take over?”

“i’m not trying to take anything from you!” you yelled, your heart pounding in your chest. “you’re the one who’s acting like i’m your enemy!”

“because you are!” she shouted back, her voice cracking with the weight of her words. the gym fell silent, everyone watching the two of you, but neither of you seemed to care anymore.

“you don’t even know me!” you shot back, the anger and frustration boiling over. “you’ve decided to hate me for no reason, and i’m done trying to figure out why!”

for a moment, neither of you said anything. you just stood there, staring each other down, your breathing heavy, the weight of the confrontation hanging thick in the air. then, caitlin’s jaw clenched, her fists tightening at her sides.

“you don’t get it,” she muttered, her voice low, almost defeated. “you just don’t get it.”

without another word, she turned and stormed out of the gym, leaving you standing there, confused and frustrated, the rest of the team still watching you in stunned silence. you took a shaky breath, your mind racing, replaying her words over and over. what the hell had just happened?

aliyah stepped up beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you muttered, though you weren’t sure if that was true. “i just… what was that?”

“that was caitlin,” aliyah said quietly, her eyes following caitlin’s retreating figure. “she’s been like this for a while. i don’t think it’s just you.”

“it sure feels like it,” you muttered, wiping the sweat from your forehead. you felt the adrenaline start to fade, replaced by an ache in your arm from the fall and a growing sense of confusion in your chest. caitlin’s anger had been building for weeks, but this… this felt like something more.

“give her time,” aliyah said with a small smile. “she’ll come around.”

you weren’t sure if you believed that. as you left the gym that night, your mind was still replaying the way her voice cracked when she yelled, the way her eyes flashed with something almost like hurt. you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something deeper going on, something you didn’t understand yet.

🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽

the next few practices were awkward, to say the least. caitlin didn’t speak to you, and you weren’t sure if you wanted her to. there was a thick tension between the two of you that everyone could feel, but no one said anything. the rest of the team tried to act normal, but you could tell they were waiting for the next blowup.

it didn’t come.

instead, you found yourself watching caitlin more. not in the way you had been before—out of frustration or anger—but in a way that made you feel something you couldn’t quite name. there was something about the way she played, the way she moved on the court with a kind of grace that came from years of hard work and determination. she was so driven, so focused, and despite everything, you found yourself… admiring her.

it was infuriating.

you weren’t supposed to admire her. she was your rival, the one who had been making your life hell since you got here. but you couldn’t help it. even when she was cold and distant, there was something about her that drew you in, something you couldn’t ignore.

one evening after practice, you found yourself lingering in the gym, shooting around long after everyone else had left. you needed to clear your head, to get rid of the lingering frustration that had been building up for days. the sound of the ball hitting the hardwood was comforting, familiar. it was the one thing that always made sense.

but then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw her.

caitlin was sitting on the bleachers, her knees pulled up to her chest, watching you. you hadn’t noticed her at first, but now that you did, you felt your heart skip a beat. you weren’t sure why she was there or how long she’d been sitting there, but the sight of her made your stomach twist in knots.

“you need something?” you called out, trying to keep your voice steady.

she hesitated for a moment before standing up and walking over to you, her expression guarded. “i thought you’d left,” she said quietly.

“nope,” you replied, bouncing the ball a few times. “just needed some extra reps.”

she nodded, but she didn’t say anything else. for a moment, the two of you just stood there, the silence stretching between you, thick and uncomfortable.

“look,” she finally said, breaking the silence. “about the other night… i shouldn’t have said what i said.”

you blinked, surprised. it wasn’t exactly an apology, but coming from caitlin, it was close enough. “yeah, well… i shouldn’t have yelled either.”

“it’s just…” she trailed off, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. “i don’t know. this whole thing has been… hard.”

you frowned, not sure what she meant. “what thing?”

“you. the team. everything.” she sighed, looking away from you. “i’ve always been the one who everyone looks to, you know? i’m the one who has to lead, who has to make sure we’re winning. and then you come in, and everyone loves you, and it’s like… it’s like i’m losing my place.”

you stared at her, stunned by her honesty. this was not the caitlin clark you knew. the confident, cocky player who always seemed to have it all together. this was someone different, someone vulnerable.

“caitlin, i’m not trying to take your place,” you said softly, stepping closer to her. “i just want to be part of the team. that’s it.”

“i know that,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “but it feels like… i don’t know. it’s stupid.”

“it’s not stupid,” you said, your heart softening. “i get it. you’ve worked so hard to get here, and you don’t want anyone to take that from you. but i’m not your enemy, caitlin.”

for a moment, she didn’t say anything. she just looked at you, her eyes searching yours, and you could see the conflict there, the uncertainty. then, before you could say anything else, she spoke again.

“i don’t hate you, you know,” she said quietly.

you raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden admission. “could’ve fooled me.”

she huffed out a small laugh, shaking her head. “no, i don’t. i just… i don’t know how to deal with this.”

“deal with what?”

she hesitated again, her eyes flicking down to the floor before meeting yours. “with how i feel about you.”

you felt your breath catch in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest. “how you feel about me?”

“yeah,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper now. “i didn’t know how to handle it. i thought if i pushed you away, maybe it would go away too. but it didn’t.”

you were speechless, staring at her in shock. this was not the conversation you had ever imagined having with caitlin. the cold, distant, critical caitlin. the one who had made every practice a nightmare. now here she was, standing in front of you, telling you that the reason for all of it was because she… liked you?

“caitlin, i…” you started, but she quickly cut you off.

“you don’t have to say anything,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “i just needed to get it out. i couldn’t keep pretending that i hated you, because i don’t. i never did. the truth is, you coming here, fitting in with the team so easily… it scared me. it made me realize that maybe i was jealous, but not just because of the team. i was jealous because i couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

her words hung in the air, and you could feel your heart racing in your chest. you hadn’t expected this. for weeks, you’d been at each other’s throats, thinking it was all just rivalry and competition. but underneath it all, there had been something else—something neither of you had been willing to acknowledge until now.

“i didn’t know you felt that way,” you said softly, taking a step closer to her. “i just thought you hated me.”

“i don’t,” she repeated, her eyes locking onto yours. “i like you. a lot. and that’s why this has been so hard.”

you didn’t know what to say. your mind was spinning, trying to process everything she had just admitted. part of you wanted to be angry at her for all the weeks of hostility, but another part of you—the part that had been watching her more closely, the part that had started to admire her—felt a sense of relief. this was what had been underneath it all.

you took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “i won’t lie, caitlin. you’ve made things really difficult for me since i got here. but… i’d be lying if i said i haven’t thought about you too.”

her eyes widened slightly, surprised by your admission. “you have?”

you nodded, biting your lip. “yeah. at first, i thought it was just because we were rivals, you know? like, you were always on me, and it pissed me off, but at the same time, i couldn’t stop thinking about you. and then i realized that maybe it wasn’t just anger. maybe it was something more.”

caitlin’s breath hitched, and she took a small step toward you, closing the gap between you. the air between you felt charged, heavy with unspoken feelings, with weeks of tension finally breaking into something else. “so… what does this mean?” she asked, her voice soft, almost vulnerable.

you looked up at her, your heart pounding, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to really look at her—not as a rival, not as someone who had made your life difficult, but as someone you were undeniably drawn to.

“i think it means we’ve been fighting something that’s been there all along,” you said quietly, your eyes never leaving hers. “and maybe… we should stop fighting it.”

for a moment, neither of you moved. the gym was quiet, the sounds of basketball practice long gone, leaving just the two of you standing there, the weight of your words hanging in the air. then, slowly, caitlin reached out and took your hand, her fingers warm and steady around yours.

“i don’t want to fight anymore,” she whispered, her eyes searching yours. “i just want to figure this out.”

your heart swelled at her words, and you squeezed her hand gently. “me too.”

wowwwwwwwww that was long. if you made it this far, thanks for reading! had to blast gracie abrams for this one. requests open

[sykoangels]

EXPERIMENTAL

kinktober day 2 - Dacryphilia

paring: fem!reader x dr.stein!souleater

warning: slight dubcon and gore , degradation/ praise , pet names , pain kink?

author note: oh stein i love you so!

Working as a weapon at the Death Weapon Meister Academy (DWMA) is a truly rewarding experience. Each day, You have the privilege of guiding and supporting young students, playing a pivotal role in shaping their futures. Many of the academy's graduates go on to join the staff, a testament to the impact of the education and mentorship they receive. It's worth noting that Lord Death tends to favor certain students, often leading them to become staff members. Despite the complexities of your situation, you find yourself partnered with your ex-boyfriend, Dr. Frankenstein Stein, by Lord Death. Despite your history, Lord Death seems to believe that you and Dr. Stein have the best chemistry among all the weapons and meisters. Navigating this dynamic presents its own set of challenges, but you remain dedicated to fulfilling your role at the academy.

After graduating from the academy, life was practically smooth sailing. You had been people‘s weapons for a little while, but you currently didn’t have anyone who would be your Meister. You didn’t have a problem with this because at the time you didn’t want to be anybody's weapon and fight crime you kind of just wanted a normal life. You started working in a cafe in downtown Death City. The job was pretty easy nothing serious but that’s where you met you’re on again off again boyfriend Spirit. The relationship is rocky, to say the least, it’s only because of Spirit’s attitude and the fact that he’s a deadbeat father to one of your students. Currently, you guys are on a break because he can’t stop staring at women and making advances towards them while being in a relationship.

Even though you miss Spirit deeply, you had to focus on the task at hand, which is cleaning Stein‘s laboratory. It was something you didn’t wanna do since it was always messy and gross. There’s everything from dissected animals to random beakers filled with some serious liquids, Petri dishes that are filled with mold, and other gross things. Nobody would want to touch it besides Stein because he’s somewhat of a weirdo, but his weirdness was always very attractive to you. You notice this behavior a lot when you guys were dating at first it was small stuff like being obsessed with bodies and how they work all the way, dissecting them and showing you each in our part and smiling like a kid in the candy store after he did it. You freaked out nonetheless, but in the back of your head weirdly, you felt safe even though he was cutting up and dissecting anything he could find.

Stein was obsessed with you to say the least even after your break up. He knew how good of a weapon you were and he always loved you no matter what. In his mind, you were precious, more precious than anything he has ever experienced. So when he heard you were coming back to the academy to help out and practically be his partner in crime again, he was ecstatic, but didn’t let anybody know. It was something that he kept himself. He had heard rumors that you were with in a tumultuous relationship with Spirit. He wasn’t surprised by this because he knew how immature spirit could be and the fact that he’s not very smart sometimes. He knew you liked men who were intelligent. He knew that you also needed someone that could keep up with you and Spirit wasn’t that type of guy.

As you finish tidying up the lab, Stein approaches you with a look of calculated intensity in his eyes. You feel your heart race, both from the excitement of his proximity and the nervousness of what he might say or do next. He leans against the lab table, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze never leaving yours. "You've been seeing Spirit again, haven't you?" His voice is calm, almost conversational, but there's an underlying tension that makes your skin prickle. You hesitate for a moment, unsure how to respond. "Yes," you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "But it's not serious—"

"Not serious?" Stein interrupts, his tone sharpening. "He doesn't deserve you. You know that, right?" You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words. "I... I don't know what to do anymore." Stein steps closer, his presence overwhelming. "Maybe it's time you let me remind you of how you should be treated," he says softly, his fingers trailing down your arm. The touch sends shivers through your body, a mix of desire and dread. You take a step back, but Stein follows, closing the distance between you. "Stein, what are you doing?" you ask, your voice trembling. "What do you think I'm doing?" he replies, his eyes darkening with lust. "I'm giving you what Spirit could never do”

Before you can respond, he grabs your wrist, pulling you towards him. His lips crash against yours, hard and demanding. You struggle for a moment, but the familiar taste and feel of him overwhelms you, and you find yourself kissing him back, your senses drowning in the intensity of the moment. Stein breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your ear. "Get on your knees," he commands, his voice low and rough. You hesitate, your mind racing with conflicting emotions. But the memory of their past together, the explosive chemistry, pulls you forward. You drop to your knees, your hands resting on his thighs as you look up at him.

Stein undoes his pants, releasing himself. His cock is already hard, throbbing with need. "Suck it," he orders, his voice dripping with dominance. You open your mouth, taking him in slowly, savoring the feel of his length against your tongue. Stein groans, his hand moving to grip your hair tightly. "That's it," he whispers, guiding you deeper onto his cock. Your head moves in rhythm, your mouth working eagerly around him. You hear the faint sound of his pulse in his throat, matching the beat of your own racing heart. The smell of his arousal fills your nostrils, mingling with the scent of antiseptic and old books that always permeate the lab.

Stein's grip tightens, and he forces you to take more of him, pushing your limits. You gag slightly, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. But the degradation only heightens your arousal, the pain mixing with pleasure in a way that makes your body tremble. "Good girl," Stein murmurs, his voice strained. "You love this, don't you? Being my little toy. Just like Old times.” You nod, unable to speak around his cock. Your pussy clenches in response, wet and aching for more. Stein pulls out suddenly, making you whimper in protest. Stein looked down at you seeing your tears stream down your face painting your plump cheeks. This is something he always liked about you but always kept to himself since he didn’t want to be seen as more weird than he already was. This is a secret. He kept deep inside his conscience, that he loves when he gives you enough pain and pleasure to the point you start shedding tears he adored it. It was like a second drug to him and told him that he was doing well. "On the table," he commands, pointing to the lab bench.

You scramble to obey, lying down on the cold surface. Stein follows, positioning himself between your legs. He grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head. "Aren't you a pretty little thing," he says, his voice dripping with disdain. You feel a sharp sting as he slaps your thigh, the pain making you gasp. "Beg for it," he demands. "Please, Stein," you whisper, your voice breaking. "Please fuck me." He smirks, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "That's more like it."

Stein lines himself up with your entrance, teasing you with the tip of his cock. You arch your back, desperate for him to fill you. Finally, he thrusts inside, hard and deep. The initial pain gives way to exquisite pleasure, your bodies syncing together in a dance as old as time. Stein pounds into you with ruthless efficiency, his hips slamming against yours with each thrust. You moan loudly, the sound echoing off the walls of the lab.

"You're mine," Stein growls, punctuating each word with a particularly hard thrust. "No one else will ever have you like this, especially that idiot Spirit.”You cry out, your orgasm building rapidly. The combination of his harsh words and brutal fucking pushes you to the edge. Stein's fingers dug into your hips, his grip unyielding as he thrust into you with a relentless fervor. The lab was dimly lit, the soft glow of the fluorescent lights casting long shadows across the room. The sound of your labored breathing and his grunts filled the air, mingling with the muted hum of the laboratory equipment.

You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the way his skin felt rough and slightly damp against your own. Your skirt had long since been discarded, tossed aside in the chaos of the moment. You could feel the cool surface of the lab table beneath your back, the metal cold against your exposed skin. "Look at you," Stein murmured, his voice low and gravelly. "Such a good girl. Your eyes were blurry with tears, your vision clouded by the intensity of the sensations coursing through you. You could taste the saltiness of your own tears on your lips, the metallic tang mixing with the desperate need that was building inside of you.

Stein leaned down, capturing one of your nipples between his teeth. He bit down gently, just enough to make you gasp, before soothing the sting with his tongue. His other hand moved lower, his fingers teasing at your clit, slick with your combined arousal. "Please," you whimpered, your voice breaking. "Don't stop..." He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Oh, I won't stop. Not until I've had my fill of you."

His thrusts grew more frantic, his pace erratic as he chased his own release. You could feel him hitting deeper, harder, each stroke making it harder to keep your composure. Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving red marks in their wake as you clung to him, your body shuddering with each thrust. "I hate you," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I hate you so much..."But even as you said the words, you knew they weren't true. There was a part of you that still craved this, that needed this connection with him. It was twisted, wrong, but it was undeniable. Stein's hand moved to your throat, his thumb pressing against your pulse point as he watched your face contort with pleasure and pain. "Tell me how much you love it," he demanded, his voice harsh. "Tell me how much you missed this."

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks, embarrassed. You had missed this type of pleasure. You hadn’t had anything like this since y’all dated every time you were intimate with spirit it was never really good so what’s Stein all the emotions started running back but you didn’t want to tell him you knew boost his ego, but on the other hand, begging for him was kind of hot. He pinched your nipple, hard, the pain sharp and immediate. "Tell me," he repeated, his tone brooking waiting for an actor "I... I missed it," you gasped, your voice barely audible. "I missed you..." His smile was almost feral, triumphant. "Good girl," he murmured, his hand moving back to your center. He pressed two fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot. "Now come for me. Make those pretty tears fall."

The sensation was too much, too intense. Your body convulsed around his fingers, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You cried out, your voice high and desperate as you came apart in his arms. Stein didn't stop, didn't slow down. If anything, he pushed you harder, his thrusts powerful and unrelenting. He was close, you could tell, his breath hitching as he neared his climax. "That's it, baby girl," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "Scream for me darling I know you want to ."

Your scream echoed through the lab, the sound raw and primal. Your body trembled beneath him, your muscles clenched tight around his cock as you rode out the waves of your orgasm. Stein finally let out a groan, his own release washing over him. He shuddered above you, his thrusts growing shallow as he spilled inside you. For a moment, everything was still, the only sound the heavy rhythm of your heartbeats. Then, slowly, he pulled out of you, his cock slipping free with a final, wet sound. He stood up, adjusting himself as he looked down at you with a satisfied smirk.

"That's what you needed, wasn't it?" he asked, his voice soft but laced with an undercurrent of cruelty. "Something rough and pleasurable, something real.”You couldn't answer, your voice lost in the haze of post-orgasmic bliss. You could only lay there, your body tingling from the aftershocks of your climax, your mind reeling from the intensity of the encounter. Stein reached down, his fingers brushing away a strand of hair that had stuck to your sweat-slicked forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up princess I’ll let you get some rest.” Stein scoops you up wrapping his white lab coat before heading upstairs so you can get some rest.

[wickmitz]

I decided to start talking about Wick and Rocky's relationship because I like their dynamics too, I like seeing Wick scared of Rocky and Rocky being aggressive with him, which is unusual because Rocky is rarely aggressive with anyone, but of course Wick is an exception to rule

Also my mini opinion about their possible relationship, I think that if Rocky didn't have to fight for his place, then he and Wick could become friends, or at least tolerate each other a little, I also see some superficial similarities, their gentlemanly and romantic natures, and their common love for explosions (remembering the quarrymen chapter), but this is my assumption, I think that I don't understand the characters' personalities well, so I can be wrong in this assumption, something like that. So, what do you think about their relationship?

for starters, i cannot thank you enough for this ask! as i’ve said previously, i have many thoughts on these two, so it’s nice to finally be able to share some of them. although given the extent to which i think about them, i apologize in advance if this is sloppy and sort of everywhere … while i’ll try to structure things the best i can, i cannot promise i’ll succeed! but hopefully this is an enjoyable reply nonetheless.

one of my favorite things about rocky and wick’s relationship is absolutely how aggressive rocky is towards the aristocrat ; he is prone to glares and cruel jokes and borderline hissing whenever the man is within his line of sight, or can be brought to a wailing-fit over the mere mention of his name from miss m’s mouth. there is a childishness to it, but a very prominent threat as well in spite of rocky’s usual incompetence. so he goes out of his way to posture around wick, readily lying and adorning himself with the gangster drapes he so badly wants to wear, in the hopes that it intimidates … will even badmouth wick’s family and make fun of his name and rock related obsession to mitzi, and so on so forth! yet all of this is very reminiscent of schoolyard bullying rather than anything too severe, though we as the audience understand rather quickly that rocky would bash wick’s head in with a tire iron if he could. ( translation : if it wouldn’t earn the tears or hate of a certain beloved mitzi may ) and it’s all very intense despite the absence of actual violence! and i understand why many fans see this as unusual for rocky and believe that it’s only wick who makes him act so aggressively, but i’d argue it isn’t really wick at all that prompts such scary reactions from him … and that rocky is a deeply angry character who’s a.) been boiling quietly for a long, long time and b.) has turned wick into a punching bag of sorts for this inner world of resentment and hurt. basically, when he’s judging the well-to-do or poking fun, his eyes don’t look at wick and actually acknowledge him as sedgewick sable ; instead this is a being, something vague and metaphorical, who threatens to upseat rocky’s permanence in the lackadaisy and steal away his savior, and he’s had a hand in the violinist’s misfortune for a long time.

obviously, rocky doesn’t think wick robbed him of his family twice over and made him homeless, but he is channeling the fear and anguish of those events into his loathing for wick, if that makes sense? it’s easier that way -- to finally have an outlet for everything bleeding inside of you, to be able to bite and claw at something without feeling conflicted or having to take personal accountability for your own mistakes … which is something that i think rocky does struggle with to a degree. he is sort of a finger pointer! his pain has to be worth something, it has to be for someone else ; spending years homeless and losing his last bit of family was for freckle, and the scrambling of his literal brain was for mitzi, and that means he can’t ever be angry with them! well, except that he is, somewhat, but he buries it deep down instead of feeling it. with freckle there is a sense of strain between them -- an air of ‘you owe me’ from rocky to freckle as he uses freckle to appease miss m, and he constantly pokes fun at his cousin too. it’s lighter than his jabs at wick, but there’s a constant pestering, a reminder of how good freckle has it : how he’s got the mom and the house and the job and the girl most notably. i don’t think rocky is intending to come across as mean, and to his credit he hardly does! but it’s rather clear to me that some part of him, some hidden and deeply hurt part, is rather indignant about taking the fall for freckle all those years ago. which he can’t understand, because how could he? he made that choice, he decided to take accountability for something he didn’t do because he loves freckle and knows it’d be so easy to believe this family tragedy was roark’s fault ; the devilish child he was, all troublesome and too broken to properly fit anywhere. so there is a disconnect born here, where rocky can’t comprehend that he’d be angry at freckle, so instead these not so great feelings are placed elsewhere and silently boil over time. and with mitzi … i don’t think he’s angry at her per se, but there is a frustrated and desperate chorus of : why him and why not me, when i’m the one out here dying for you? which is certainly unpleasant. of course, rather than allowing those feelings to be more aimed at miss m, whom he feels unloved by, he ( again! ) represses these emotions and allows them to fester into his greatest fears and fantastical complexes. i think there is a lot of other miscellaneous anger he could have towards others too … perhaps some part of him is sore upon seeing ivy’s normal lifestyle, watching her go to university and knowing that’s been taken from him. or an ache felt when hearing stories from zib and the band and how they used to travel successfully, living as nomads, and rocky is all too reminded of his similar lifestyle and how he couldn’t make it work as effortlessly. people with immense trauma are more prone to irrational anger and jealousy, to viewing everything around them as unfair and believing it’s even more unjust that so many people get to live comfortably while they’ve suffered. a situation that gets more messy when you’re someone like rocky, a man who’s willingly made choices that have harmed himself and wants to continue on with his smiling, bumbling fool of an act. he does not want to be angry, does not want to see it within himself, i think, which leads to an accidental increase of it.

all of this is to reiterate that wick is a scapegoat for rocky and nothing more. it’s why he’s rather hypocritical whenever it concerns the man. for example, it was stated by tracy that he looks down upon wick for his excessive presence at the bar, yet he appears to enjoy hanging out with zib -- who drinks just as often! he makes fun of how all wick ever talks about is rocks, when he himself is prone to poetry rambles that people find irritating or boring, and etc etc. this is also just a human nature thing, to critique someone you heavily dislike and even going as far as to belittle things you love or do in your own day to day because you just hate them that bad! but given rocky’s willingness to befriend anyone, it more so reeks of a dehumanization element. wick is every obstacle in his way, every divine force that threatens to send him packing again, so he is equal parts unnerved by wick’s presence and angry about it. it is mostly a fear response we are seeing, an emotion that’s morphed into long held resentment and anger. so his actions are extremely defensive, with him trying to push wick far away and keep him and mitzi separate, like some sort of animal attempting to ward off a threat that’s come too close to their home. despite the loaded animosity there, this hate has hardly reached its peak … but it shall only grow more intense as things continue onward i’m afraid, since as it stands ( in the comic at least ) rocky is at an all time low … and is ten times more desperate. i’d honestly say wick has become so warped in his mind’s eye that he can only strive towards ‘winning’ over the other man, because that’s all he can see anymore. i think mitzi implying that wick willingly helped her out, the intense head injury, and rocky’s fragile emotional state is exactly what pushes him towards premeditated murder in look-see. i don’t know how people perceive that arc, but to me it’s very clear that rocky actively sought to see the deaths of wes and fish that night. going as far as to lament that he’d be, “very disappointed if ( he ) dreamed them,” and purposefully luring the marigold duo away to have freckle pick them off. while you could argue that this was a smart move, in a gangster sort of sense, there’s still no denying that rocky is oddly chipper about the whole thing and is now seeking death out ; whereas before his methods of vengeance were just, well, ruining people’s livelihood but ultimately leaving them alive. this isn’t to discredit the fact that rocky is going through something! he is in a very muddled and dark place, mentally and physically, but even tracy has said that the head injury hasn’t changed rocky’s personality -- it’s only brought things to the surface.

source : q&a with tracy .

which, yeah! makes sense! head trauma can cause a person to become a wreck emotionally ( think mood swings, irritability, etc ) but it doesn’t completely morph someone either. personality changes may occur, but it’s not like you’re being rewritten entirely, you know? and given tracy’s old statement, it’s clear that ‘personality changes’ aren’t a side effect he’s suffering from. something that adds to my beginning statement, which is that rocky is a deeply angry and troubled person, more so than fans give him any credit for.

however, to touch upon your mini opinion about these two, i actually wholeheartedly agree that rocky and wick could become friends if circumstances were different. they do in fact have many superficial similarities, but one of the more prominent things they deeply share is never really belonging in the groups they frequent. this is more overt with rocky’s character, yet wick faces it too in subtle ways. the well-to-do crowd, seen through the investors, find the gentleman to be lacking in about every place imaginable ; to them he is an obsessive freak who cares too deeply for meager rocks, something they constantly mock him for, while he’s also being noticeably set apart from the rest of them … he seems younger than the investors, more excitable, passionate, and a little less experienced, and doesn’t seem to care for money or reputation as much as them either. there is a constant rubbing between him and them, where what he enjoys is seen as wrong, such as his love for the lackadaisy and his choice in paramor, a grieving widow with extremely dangerous ties. we also know that wick doesn’t have many friends at all, with the only two he has being lacy and church ( church is listed as such on his character profile, in a sort of tongue-in-cheek way ), both of whom work for or with him. they are obliged to hang around, and while they care in varying ways, they are prone to judging him just as much. honestly, it’s not shocking that wick seeks refuge at his chosen speakeasy! but even there he is rather distant from everyone else. he doesn’t speak to zib ever in the comics, nor seems all too close with viktor, ivy, or horatio … it is merely mitzi he is close to, even if he knows of the other people who work there. and, once again, wick very obviously doesn’t fit in. he is not gangster material, could never be an atlas may replacement, much less someone who could get his paws dirty in such an active way. so he has his feet in two different worlds and doesn’t know how to fit into either of them, or which one he actually wants to fit into more. i think in many ways rocky could relate -- these are two very lonely people who wish to belong somewhere and be accepted by some group or another but go about it in all the wrong ways. wick, who is too hesitant to fully commit to what he wants and is worse off for it, and then rocky, who obsessively throws himself against what he wants until he breaks every bone in his body. they also have explosives to bond over, lol, and other miscellaneous things like their taste in women i suppose … but this potential bond adds to the tragedy of lackadaisy, where we see two people who on every level should get along but we’re burdened with the knowledge that it’s an impossibility anyway, because there’s no removing the circumstance of which they’re in.

though i like to believe that despite wick’s fear of rocky, he maintains a kindness towards him regardless. i think his worries about rocky are rather surface level … he doesn’t know the boy at all, really, and thus can’t make heads or tails of him, hence him believing the lie in balderdash. so when i’m feeling particularly self indulgent, i like imagining a world where they’re forced together and sort of ‘stuck’ together ; to which rocky finally breaks and exposes his wounds to wick, in every sense of the word, and wick finally gets him. the aggression, the possessiveness of mitzi … it is all fear and desperation and a profound sadness, things he’d sympathize with. if rocky was able to explain that he loathes wick because if he saves the lackadaisy then mitzi won’t need him anymore and that it’s not fair that wick gets to so easily fix things when rocky would give his soul for his home, for her, and how wick could render every sacrifice he’s already made for naught by smoothing things over with some greenbacks and he can’t lose this, he just can’t --! … which, well, wick is too kind of a man to be able to do anything except feel awful, even though it’s not his fault at all. here we have two people who could coexist! and they should, since rocky logically can’t do every speakeasy job ( band member, rumrunner, mitzi’s shadow, also the guy who gets the money for the hooch ) by himself, just like how wick can’t save the lackadaisy with only his cash and limited booze stash. it’d be a joint cooperation, a collaboration between them, both equally important in the grand scheme of crime’s every turning wheel … but rocky’s rage and fear won’t let him see that, and likely never will. still, in scenarios where everything ends up alright for the lackadaisy and the people involved in it ( which is not how canon will go, by the way ), i fancy wick and rocky getting better within their relationship. rocky will always be prickly and quick to upset around the other man sadly, but perhaps he could see wick in a softer kind of light. or at least understand vaguely enough that he isn’t out to get rocky, so to speak. and then maybe wick learns that pancakes soothe rocky’s ire and poorly makes them anytime he wishes to talk to the man, and other fun things like that! but you should have more confidence in your character analysis skills, because you were spot on ( at least in my eyes ) about them potentially getting along if things were different. it’s certainly a fun aspect to play around with, and is important to note when discussing their relationship so you can fully understand just how warped rocky’s perspective on things are. and how unstable and traumatized he is too, of course </3 sidenote, but i also hope that throughout everything i’ve said here, or anything i’ve said before on my blog, that my love for rocky and my own sympathy for him comes across well enough. while he’s deeply flawed and i have no qualms discussing said flaws in depth, i also don’t think of him as some insane freak who’s evil at his core or anything like that. honestly, i adore analyzing him so much as a character because of how far down his issues go! he’s very well written, i’ll say, as is wick and many of the other characters, but i digress.

once more, thank you for the ask! i’ll end this here because i fear if i don’t i’ll start going in circles, since their relationship is so vast and very important for rocky in a character sense. hopefully i shed some more light on it though! i love these two to bits and pieces and i wouldn’t be half as invested in lackadaisy if their dynamic wasn’t so monumental -- at least to me.

[bad-tf-fic-ideas]

(283) Predacons/Starscream.

Starscream is not killed by Predaking at the end of Predacons Rising — instead, he talks very, very fast and worms his snakey way out of an execution. Talking frantically in circles is a skill he's honed for millions of years, so despite their, ah, rocky history, Starscream manages to convince Skylynx, Darksteel and Predaking that he's of more use alive than dead.

Starscream's contribution to this group is not flight manoeuvres, firepower, tactical brilliance or sheer backstabbing nastiness, but rather the simple fact that he is an energon seeker. And now that their planet is alive again — thanks to Optimus Prime's martyrdom — there are tiny scraps of energon crystal that are now just beginning to make their way to the surface of Cybertron. He can sense even these small deposits, with a sensitivity that no manufactured alternative can yet match.

But, you know, it takes a lot of effort to keep three massive prehistoric dragons full of fresh energon without resorting to intensive seeding and mining operations. And it turns out that you can't put in that much effort to take care of someone every day without growing a little bit attached to them, eventually. Cybertronians will bond with anything — obviously, they are capable of bonding with even organic aliens if given half a chance. Starscream is not immune, and finds himself becoming closer and closer to this savage little pack. (He is designed for transformation. His changing habits don't trouble him... much.)

And then an Autobot envoy arrives, wondering how three massive dragons— spotted flying over Darkmount — are keeping themselves in energon so easily, when the tiny scraps and seeds are so hard to detect with even the most sensitive modern machinery. Haven't they allied with the Autobots before, fending off Unicron? Aren't they all, more or less, sort of, friends? It doesn't seem entirely fair that they should keep whatever sensory systems they've dug up to themselves, does it?

And that's when Starscream starts to get... unhappy. Insecure. Fretful. Paranoid. Jealous. Predictably, vicious.

[vermilionskiinmorning]

Beginning of the End | Durgetash

Summary: In which durge is scouting for a discreet entrance to Wyrm's Rock Fortress and has a series of failed skill checks that result in her ending up in Banite custody

Words: 6k

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A storm was brewing overhead and threatening to unleash itself upon the city of Baldur’s Gate as Feravel picked her way along the rocky outcrops at the base of Wyrm’s rock fortress. The dense cloud cover blotted out the moon and any stars that might’ve lit her way in the darkness but thankfully as a half-elf, she could make out the platforms and handholds as she came across them. Falling from a cliff would’ve been an embarrassing way to go and who knew how long it would take her friends to find her. Perhaps, she ought to have told them where she was going despite what would’ve surely been a host of protests and offers to accompany her, but this needed to be done quietly. It was a single man scouting mission. The clouds which had only begun to form as they’d all ate together on the elf song patio hadn’t signaled the intensity of the winds that would follow though. Still, Feravel was fleet of foot and felt confident she’d be able to complete her reconnaissance and return to the tavern without too much trouble.

They might disapprove of her methods, but her friends would be grateful when they didn’t have to sneak through the fortress to reach the prison. A stealth breaking and entering to rescue Florrick would benefit them by allowing their continued freedom of movement around the fort. It would also allow them to scout out the entrance for Ansur’s lair which was somewhere beneath the prison according to Wyll’s book on the matter. As long as they weren’t caught doing it.

As she hopped down to a lower ledge, Feravel was struck by a niggling feeling in the back of her mind. Thankfully it was not the familiar sensation of the parasite squirming around in her head, but more the feeling of something familiar yet forgotten. Something Feravel couldn’t quite put a finger on; like she’d done this before -been here on this particular cliff before.

Scouting. A mission. Some one  she had to find. Not some thing . A way in. Through a rocky crevice maybe ? Climbing up to reach it. Somewhere natural rock and hewn stone met. Squeezing down a narrow passage. He’ll be pleased. An excellent gift. Her lips curled with pleasure .  Focus, need to be silent. The guards are near.

Then the rain started, startling her out of the odd visions and musings that didn’t feel truly her own. Refocusing Feravel started moving again not having realized she’d come to a halt. Wherever that place was, it had to be close by. Just around the corner perhaps? She’d have to scale a particularly steep incline to reach it.

Suddenly, as she was reaching for a handhold there came a strong burst of wind whipped through the night knocking her slightly off balance. It caused her to lose footing on the slick grass and her feet to go out from under her. She crashed to the ground and slid several feet almost tumbling over the edge of the outcropping she’d been working along. The scream of shock she let out as she’d fallen was entirely against her will, but even with the wind, Feravel felt sure it carried. Cursing herself, she lay there silently listening to the roaring of the wind and the churn of waters down below trying to make out any sign she’d been detected. With her dark cloak, it would be unlikely a sentry would see her through the darkness even if she had been heard. Still, she was reluctant to move and give away her position should someone high above be peering over a rampart at that very moment. Or would a steel watcher’s mechanical gaze be able to pierce the gale and see the smallest glint of a buckle or a stray ray of dim light catch her blade?

Moments passed, and she couldn’t be sure how long she waited for something, anything to happen. But Feravel heard nothing, saw nothing, and eventually, she relaxed. Finally, she pulled herself to her feet and assessed the damage. She would surely have a bruised tailbone and some superficial scrapes come morning. A small price to pay.

Her thoughts returned to the feeling she’d had about this place. Whatever it was and however she knew it mattered little. That crack in the wall had to be close by. The feeling of Deja vu was strong. She’d just have to follow it.

Just as she was reaching for a rock that looked familiar, she heard the chink of an armored boot behind her and stilled. No one could’ve seen her.  Except mayb e…  Feravel turned to see an armored elf wearing a mask covering the top of his face and standing closer than she’d thought he would be.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Feravel cocked her head slightly to the side sizing him up. He was larger than her, no Halsin to be sure, but taller and broader than her short and   curvy stature   nonetheless. And in his heavy armor, she would likely be quicker with no mail or plate to weigh her down.

“Really? Where is here anyway? I was out fishing when this storm rolled in and blew my boat-“

“Cut the shit.”

He was readying to strike. She saw him gripping the hilt of a dagger at his belt.

“Look saer, I’m not looking for any trouble here.” Feravel scoffed, taking a tentative step back.

Her movement sent the elf into action and he struck faster than she expected. The pommel of his dagger came down on her temple before she could even draw her blade to parry. As her body went limp Feravel felt the weapon slipping from her fingers and the darkness closed in on her vision.

Up on the top floor of the fort, Enver tapped his fingers rhythmically on his desktop as he listened to a report being read out by one of his aides. The recitation was interrupted by a knock at the door which caused the man to stumble over his words and glance at the archduke. When Enver made no move to answer or even acknowledge the knock, the man continued speaking. Then the knock came again. An irritated twitch pulled at Enver’s brow. His followers knew how much he loathed being interrupted and yet whoever it was knocked again.

“Enter.”

Enver spoke sharply above the voice of the underling who quickly silenced himself in response. A brief scuffle ensued just outside the door before it was wrenched open so hard it bounced off the stone wall. In walked an armored Banite elf commander dragging the short squirming cloaked figure with their hands cuffed at their front. The elf shouldered the door shut with difficulty as the cloaked prisoner was still attempting to extricate themself from his grasp.

“And what exactly is this about, Luka?” Enver snapped. “Prisoners are taken to the dungeon for the Flaming Fists to deal with.”

Luka huffed irritably. He released the figure and gave the prisoner a rough shove forward causing them to topple to the ground. They gave a huff of frustration as they gathered themself.

“Apologies, my lord, I would have taken her there except she’s one of that group of adventurers you mentioned.”

Enver’s brown raised. He strode swiftly across the room and flicked back the cloak’s cowl. Feravel looked back at him with an irritable expression.

“Out.”

He dismissed Luka and the aide without another word.

The fire crackled behind Enver’s back as he observed Feravel’s disheveled state. Her cloak dripped steadily onto the rug, her leather boots were marred with mud, her hair askew and, her cheeks flushed. The traces of irritation had been wiped from her face though as she fixed him with a disinterested mask - a look he’d once known well.

As Enver studied her, Feravel scanned the stone-walled room for an escape. The balcony she’d fled from on her previous visit to this office was shut with a latched door. So there'd be no quick escape there.

She was not only embarrassed by what she’d gotten herself into but flustered at having to deal with Enver again. Of course, he'd have his Banites on the lookout for her group. Why couldn’t it have been a Flaming Fist? She'd been taken to the prison, then at least all she’d have to do was escape. Astarion would surely have some sarcastic commentary on the art of stealth when this was over. It took more than a modicum of effort not to let her thoughts show on her face.

“You know, if you wanted to see me again you didn’t have to get yourself caught snooping around my fort.” Said Enver, off-handedly.

His tone was so self-assured. He was greeting a friend. Same as before.

“Well if you wanted to see me again you didn’t have to have me arrested on sight.” Feravel challenged archly. She gave a rather pointed look at the cuffs secured to her wrists.

Enver paced the short distance back toward his desk beside the fireplace.

“You’re the one who was sneaking around my dear. What did you think would happen if you were caught?”

Feravel huffed and rolled her eyes. “Jail? Most prisoners aren’t brought directly to the archduke of the city are they?”

He didn’t answer immediately only humming vaguely in response. Enver pulled out one of the drawers and began rifling through the various objects inside. Upon locating the item he desired, Enver shut the drawer with a snap and turned his attention back to her.

“No, they are not. So were you anyone else, you’d certainly be correct, but you are you. And I’ve taken the liberty of bolstering the Flaming Fists's numbers with some of my own -that is to say those loyal only to myself and lord Bane.”

Feravel twisted her hand minutely in the cuff trying to gauge how difficult it would be to free herself. They were rather snug. Perhaps if she squeezed her fingers together and tugged, but Enver was watching her. She’d have to wait or distract him somehow.

“Well,” said Enver when she made no comment. “If you’re supposedly not here to see me. Then what are you doing here?”

“Oh seeing the sights. I hear storms on the Chionthar are a quiet sight after all.” She replied flippantly.

Enver rolled his eyes. He came around to the front of the desk to lean against its edge.

“You expect me to believe you were skulking around in the dead of night to see a storm you could’ve watched perfectly well from the docks or any other number of places in the city.”

A slight smirk quirked the corner of her lip as she retorted. “Damn. You know what, I didn’t even think of that.”

“Fera…” Enver began warningly, looking tired as the hour warranted. “What were you really doing?”

Her answering shrug was sarcastic. Subtly as she could manage, Feravel used the movement to tuck one of her hands behind the folds of her cloak.

“I was….” She trailed off as something behind him caught her eye.

Her eyes drifted to the mantle over the fireplace, on it sat a black statuette of a knight with painted golden embellishment. Unlike most of the decor in the archduke’s study, the statue was Enver’s. Usually, it was on a desk, next to a stack of papers in another office. Seeing it made her smile, but only to herself. Feeling her lips start to form one even then, Feravel immediately forced them into a slight frown instead.

“I’ve been here before.” Her words were uncertain.

Enver nodded slowly at her, looking a mite concerned. As if contemplating whether the damage to her mind was more extensive than he’d originally thought. Briefly, he glanced over his shoulder to locate what had caught her eye, but nothing seemed out of place.

“Yes my dear. Just a few days ago.”

She twisted an edge of her cloak in her hand, fisting the fabric, and sighed in frustration. “No.  Before .”

A sudden spark of hope flared in Enver’s eyes but he hid it quickly behind an impassive expression. Feigning disinterest, he waved a hand dismissively. “Perhaps. I hardly knew of all your comings and goings. We were both very busy you understand.”

A hidden passage. Exactly what she'd been looking for. Sneaking silently, invisible, through a stone corridor. An office on some lower level of the fort. A gurgled cry and blood rushing over her gloved fingers. Excitement rushed through her. About to leave, but something caught her eye. Black and gold, a knight. Pocketing it. A bloody dagger clattered across a desk. Placing the knight beside the dagger. A grin of satisfaction.

Then his voice close to her ear. “Thank you my dear.”

A caress.

“You knew about this.” She said more confidently.

Enver leaned forward slightly. He couldn’t fully contain his interest.

“I came here…” Feravel trailed off again. Her eyes flicked around the room, searching for something unseen. A further prompt for her memory, but nothing came. Nothing in the duke's office was familiar, but her gut supplied the answer anyway. “To kill?”

She returned her focus to him.

“For you. Why would I do that?”

Enver smiled just slightly. “Well that’s not the first time you've asked me that question.”

Feravel furrowed her brow. “The temple of Bhaal kills for its own sake. You said I was an assassin for you. Why though?”

A look of fondness flickered across his features. “It wasn’t an originally part of our agreement, you drive a hard bargain. But I managed to make it worth your while in the end.”

It was him that looked far away then. In his mind, Enver must’ve certainly been somewhere else. A memory they had once shared that now, she may never recall.

“Then later we became partners and -as you know- more.”

She didn’t like the way he talked about her. The way he knew her when she didn’t know herself. His recollections. The intimacy. It felt like listening to someone describe a night of black-out drinking except it wasn’t just a night. It was her life.

Enver withdrew a key from his pocket and held out a hand to her. Grudgingly, she dropped the hem of her cloak and went over to him. She held out her hands but made sure she left a respectable distance between them. He met her eyes with intensity as he took one wrist at a time and unlocked each cuff. Holding her hand in his lightly as if not to startle her and cause her to withdraw.

“Partners don’t usually kill for each other.” She said, tactfully choosing to ignore the latter half of his assertion.

“Well my dear, that's not entirely accurate is it? It depends on the line of business." Enver paused, then added. "It took us several years to get to that point.”

“Partners or assassinations?”

He chuckled. “Both.”

She had forgotten about Enver still holding her hand until he brushed his thumb across her palm. Instinctively she made to pull her hand back and for a moment she felt his grip on her tighten before he relaxed it, allowing her to withdraw. When Feravel looked up at him he was already looking at her, waiting to meet her eye.

“I don’t expect anything from you.” He said.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “That’s sort of a different tune.”

He was frustrated. “I won’t lie, I’d go back to how we were in an instant. But if all we can be is partners, so be it.”

She wondered if there was an unspoken “for now” to the statement. He appeared sincere if not disconsolate at the idea, but in all their dealings thus far Enver had been truthful. It was clear though that he wanted more from her and this proposed partnership. Perhaps she could convince him to abandon the plot and they could defeat the brain together.

To avoid meeting his gaze again as she considered the possibility, Feravel cast a look about the room again. It was finely but impersonally furnished except for the statue which had prompted their current line of discussion.  

“Why did I give you that knight statue?” She asked, curiosity having gotten the better of her.

Enver was surprised, but he recovered quickly. He glanced over his shoulder at the knight and then back to her. Suspicion darkened his eyes.

“You said you didn’t remember anything.”

“I don’t,” Feravel said defensively. “Well, I didn’t. I mean, it’s only a few pieces here and there. It’s complicated. I didn’t remember things before but...now sometimes I get feelings about things? And when I saw the statue, it was familiar. Then I saw it, in my mind, on a desk with a dagger. You thanked me.”

He watched her, assessing her and her truthfulness.

“You said you thought of me so you took it. I designed the steel watch aesthetic based off it.”

Feravel didn’t know what to say. An insignificant trinket and she’d felt compelled to give it to him. The same feeling that told her it was his told her the statue wasn’t a stationary model, but that the limbs could be manipulated -tinkered with. She could almost feel the smoothness of its armor and hear the soft clicking as she positioned it. The thought came to her in her own voice,  He does like tinkering with those odds and ends in his workshop.

“Have you remembered anything else?”

Enver’s tone was sanguine, but when Feravel tore her gaze from the statue she saw him looking at her attentively.

“Well…” She swallowed. Her thoughts went to the night of the coronation. Kissing Gale in front of the fire and then dreaming of doing the same with Enver. A flush crept up around her throat. His expression was expectant. “Nothing, important.”

Enver’s eyebrow arched, but let it go and didn't question her further though he burned to know. She chewed on the inside of her cheek anxiously. Now that she was free she should be trying to escape. Instead, she asked. “Tell me something about me?”

“What sort of thing?” He responded curiously.

Feravel strode over to an armchair beside the fire and took a seat. She wasn’t sure about what she was doing, but something in her wanted to know. Had she been sweet? Normal, even slightly, once? What made a man like him love someone like her? Their relationship seemed so contrary to the image she'd conjured of her former self.

“Something…ordinary?” She posed, then added. “Was I more than a Bhaalspawn?”

Enver watched her thoughtfully from where she'd left him.

“You've always been more than your title. You had a penchant for pretty things. Not necessarily expensive or flashy, but the easy beauty of the world.”

“Pretty things?” She asked a tad incredulously.

He chuckled as he strode back into her field of view. Enver went to stand beside the armchair across from the fire from Feravel, resting an arm on its winged back.

"Don't expect the child of the lord of murder to appreciate anything besides blood and death?" He teased. "I certainly wouldn't have before I met you. It was odd to me at first the sort of things you took. At one point I even considered you might have a collection of mementos from your victims, but you didn’t do it every time. Eventually, I realized it was just things you liked.”

“Like what?” Feravel interjected.

“All sorts.” He said. “Ribbons, flowers, art, shoes…a little knight statue.”

Enver paused then added. “There was a fine black velvet embroidered jacket that appeared in my wardrobe once.”

“I collected things. And gave you gifts...?”

“You did -on occasion." He gave her a fond smile before abandoning the armchair. She turned in her seat to watch him at the table they’d eaten at a few nights ago. It now held a bottle of amber spirits and a pair of glasses which Enver set about pouring himself a drink from as he continued. “Once I realized what you liked, I left things where you’d find them. A few things appeared in their place, the jacket I mentioned for example.”

Was it just the urge that had turned her into a murderous monster then? Before her brain had been scrambled, she'd lived with it for so long that it changed her but now it was like she'd been reinvigorated against its darkness. 

“And the knight?” She asked.

Enver sipped from his glass before turning to look at her again.

“It was the first thing you gave me.” He said. Then chuckled. “Directly at least.”

Feravel furrowed her brow.

“I had seen this bracelet. It was only copper, but the smith had done truly elegant work. I always meant to go back and have a ring made to match it.”

He cleared his throat.

“Anyway, you brought gave me the knight and a ‘freebie’ two days later.”

Feravel hardly heard the latter half of his words over the sound of her heart beating out of her chest at the realization that she knew the bracelet he was speaking about. It had been on her wrist when she woke up on the beach. She remembered absentmindedly fiddling with it for comfort as she fell asleep the first several nights. It was beautiful but at the beginning of their journey, they hadn’t any supplies. She’d felt conflicted about selling it at the time but hadn't understood why. It was just a copper trinket. The trader in the grove had given her a fair price.

A tear rolled down her cheek. She was hurrying to wipe it away and didn’t notice Enver had come over to her offering a glass of the amber liquid. Feravel accepted it, taking a drink.

“I was wearing it when I woke up. The necromancer at moonrise…she left it on me.”

Quick as a whip, Enver cut off anything else Feravel might’ve said. “You were at moonrise?”

The firelight cast a dark shadow over a good portion of his face affecting a foreboding look. 

“Uh yeah. We just-“

Enver cut her off impatiently. “That’s where Orin took you?”

Feravel’s expression darkened. She hadn’t meant to mention what she’d learned in the mindflayer colony under the tower, but it had just slipped out. Thinking about the mutilation and pain she’d suffered there was too difficult to stomach. Despite not having any memory of it, the necromancer's gushing delight in discussing it had been repulsive. All Feravel could muster in the way of a response was a curt nod. Enver’s previously soft expression twisted into an ugly scowl at her confirmation.

“I had assumed she took your body to the temple of Bhaal…” He trailed off.

A wave of irritation coursed through Feravel and she couldn’t help the word vomit that followed.

“Yes well she in fact was more sadistic even than I possibly gave her credit for. You’d know better than me though.” Feravel snapped. “Orin scrambled my brain, unmade me, and then left me there after she put a tadpole in my head. But so lucky I was to have such a skilled -or especially sadistic, depending on your perspective- necromancer around to ‘piece me back together’. One I surely picked. If I’d known her skills would be put to use on me, I think I would’ve picked a poorer one. The necromancer- she experimen- defiled…”

Feravel swallowed hard. She cast a glance at Enver then and saw that he was stock still. The only indication he was even listening to her as he stared blankly into the flames was the white-knuckled grip on his glass.

Feravel’s tone was more measured when she added. “I killed her.”

Enver’s jaw twitched.

“Good.”

After a beat or two, she was unable to stand the silence and changed the subject.

"I'd forgotten about the bracelet..." Feravel said. "But now I wonder if she had some idea about it and was taunting me. I'm not sure how though..."

She trailed off. In her mind, she could see the pod where she'd been held prisoner. Blood spattered on the inside of the door and the necromancer's tools on the table nearby. There was no reason she shouldn't have taken the bracelet. It wasn't worth much, but Feravel had been stripped of everything else.

"Forgotten?" Enver asked. "You said you woke up with it."

He glanced towards Feravel's wrists only to be dispirited at finding them bare. Guilt at an action she couldn't possibly have understood the consequence of roiled through her. Sighing, Feravel shook her head in frustration. 

"Well, I did, but you have to understand..." She got to her feet and headed towards the table he'd abandoned the bottle on. With her back to him, it was easier to continue. "I didn't remember anything when I first came to. And-" Feravel sighed, squeezing her eyes closed momentarily. "A girl's got to eat."

Silence.

"They left me with nothing. Just the soiled clothes on my back -and in retrospect, those likely weren't even mine! The others...they had their possessions they'd been taken with at least. All I had were visions of carnage. I didn't think I could mean anything to someone then if my mind was so full of violence. The shadow of you didn't come to me for days. And by then I'd already sold-"

Abruptly Feravel was spun around and Enver was there looking down into her hazel eyes with an unreadable stare. Briefly, she thought he might be angry, but when he spoke his manner was measured and controlled.

"I forgive you -if that's what you needed to hear."

Feravel let out a breath she hadn't recognized she was holding. He raised a hand to her hair toying with the pieces of hair that had escaped her braids. It made her acutely aware suddenly that his other hand rested comfortably at her waist.  She couldn't resist closing her eyes as Enver stroked his fingers reverently through her hair pulling it down from its buns. The strands tumbled down around her shoulders in disarray as her hair had already been a mess, but he didn't seem bothered by it. He continued to comb his fingers through her hair absently gently working through any knots he came across. The sensation was so soothing that Feravel couldn't help exhaling a faint sigh of contentment. Once he'd finished one side of her head, Enver rested that hand at the base of her neck allowing her to lean into him as he went to work on the other. 

When he finished, they were both still and quiet. Feravel didn't dare open her eyes and break the spell of serenity his ministrations had cast over her. Though she was still keenly aware of how close he was, so close she could taste the scent of the bourbon on his breath.

Leaning forward wasn't a choice she consciously made, but the feeling of his lips against hers was almost a relief. The moment their lips met, Enver's hand was there cupping her jaw drawing her into a deeper kiss. Any common sense Feravel might've had slipped away as he caressed her with his thumb. She wrapped her arms around his neck automatically pulling him down as much as she could whilst standing up on her tiptoes. Enver made a soft sound of what she was sure to be satisfaction, but she didn't care just then. Their kiss became more fervent from that point with Enver's hand leaving her jaw to roam over her curves reacquainting himself with her. Meanwhile, Feravel's nails dragged over his scalp causing him to groan with pleasure and grip her thigh hard as he slid his hand down it. Everywhere he touched left a sizzling heat behind which had her feeling weak.

He stooped slightly to grab her behind the knees and scoop her up causing her to automatically wrap her legs around his waist. The next thing she knew her back was up against the wall and he was kissing down her neck. Feravel let out a gasp.

This escalated quickly. Too quickly. What was she doing?

"Enver."

He moaned against her neck and slid his hands up the back of her thighs. Feravel couldn't help moaning softly as well in response as he pressed himself against her. But they shouldn't be doing this.

" Enver ."

"Fera."

Her name on his lips was so sinful that she almost gave in. It wasn't fast at all. He knew her, all of her so intimately. His grip on her was firm and steadying. How many times before had they done this? They were meant to be together. It felt so right. She let out a quavering breath. A wave of pleasure washed over her as he rocked his hips against her with more urgency. Bursts of hot breath swept over her chest as his open-mouthed kisses reached her collarbone. His calloused hand slipped under her shirt exposing the skin beneath to cold stone sending a jolt of reality directly to her brain.

"Gortash!" She said sharply.

And Enver stilled immediately then slowly drew back enough so he could see her face. His expression was unreadable.

"We can't..." She trailed off.

Fire ignited in his dark eyes. "And why shouldn't we?"

"For starters? There's Ga-"

"If you mention that wizard to me. I will have him dragged from that tavern and executed right now." Enver said darkly.

And she knew he meant it.

Anger flared in Feravel and she pushed Enver hard in the chest knocking him off balance enough that he had to release her or risk falling. Enver was forced to stagger a step back in his effort to keep his footing. Feravel ended up scrambling to catch herself and avoid falling into a heap on the floor. 

"You'll do no such thing!" She snapped as she righted herself.

Enver glowered at her, but his voice was steady. "And who's to stop me, my dear?"

Feravel clenched her teeth.

"I am the archduke. He's nobody. All of you are. You may think you're here to play the hero, but let me be the one to disabuse you of that notion. You have some powers to resist the brain, but that means nothing in the face of the power I wield in this city. Your little group walks free by my good grace. Because of my affection. For.  You .”

"I don't even know you!" Feravel exclaimed. "It's just fragments! And this feeling... I don’t know but I love Gale."

Enver's fingers balled into a fist and she thought he might be about to hit something, but he didn’t. He drew in several measured breaths before fixing his posture and speaking in a deceptively relaxed tone.

"As you say, but know if he sets foot in this fort, I will kill him."

Feravel furrowed her brow.

Enver continued. "You want to play this little scenario of yours out, fine. I won't hinder you."

"Scenario? What are you even talking about?" She snapped. 

Enver stalked away. Irritation emanated off of him in palpable waves even from across the room. He went to the table and poured a drink. "This distraction with the wizard."

"Distraction?" She repeated numbly.

Enver lifted his eyebrows and raised his drink for a sip, but it never made it to his lips because she’d walked up and slapped it out of his hand. Bourbon splashed against the wall and glass rained down the stone.

"For your information, Gortash, that distraction is my life."

He sighed. "Stop acting like a child, Feravel."

"A child? Stop acting like an arrogant prick then!" She raged.

"This isn't your life. This was a mistake. You should've been here all along, but we can recitfy that now. Join me." He reasoned.

Join me.

It set off a reaction in her mind as the phrase rattled around bouncing off other times he’d said it.  A proposition, job, invitation, request, partnership, demand.  All moments she could only grasp the essence of. Any sense of full understanding was impossible though they were like smoke through a screen.

Feravel pressed her lips into a firm line to prevent a verbal outburst of the frustration she felt.

“I can’t.” She said finally.

Enver tapped his finger on the table.

“You want to.” He asserted.

Deflecting, Feravel said. “We can be allies. But we’re going to destroy the brain.”

Enver balked. “We’ll discuss the matter further once you have Orin’s Netherstone.”

Feravel narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’ll not be giving up the plans I swore to you to carry out -with or without you- as easy as that.”

“I guess it’ll be a tense negotiation then,” Feravel said flippantly.

She was unable to respond though because a sudden pain shot through her temple and a voice entered her mind.

"Fera?" Gale's tone was that of suppressed anxiety. "Where are you? Are you safe?"

Before her, she saw their floor in the Elfsong shrouded in thick darkness. Gale was sitting up squinting at her empty bed through the darkness. She could feel his nerves, his tense need to connect. He wasn't just searching the room for her. Fear flooded through her that he might be seeing what she was and Feravel shut down her side of the connection as firmly as she could.

"Feravel?"

Gale's anxiety spiked at the rebuff and likely the taste of fear he got before her wall came up.

"I'm fine." She responded.

"Feravel?" Enver's voice.

"Shut up."

Hands on her shoulders. Two pairs of brown eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to focus on one conversation at a time.

"Where are you?"

"Trying to find a way into the fort."

Feravel tamped down the guilt she felt at the lie for fear he'd sense it.

"In this weather? I thought you'd been kidnapped!"

She sighed audibly.

"I'm fine Gale. I'll be back. I need to focus."

She almost thought he'd abandoned the connection but then his voice came again.

"Are you safe?"

"Yes."

"If I don't hear from you in an hour, I'm going to wake Astarion."

She cursed.

"I'll be on my way back before then."

And Feravel pulled herself out of the connection.

Blinking a few times as she readjusted to the flicker of the firelight, Feravel found herself seated back in the armchair with Enver kneeling before her. His brow was creased as he surveyed her with a look of mild concern. Heaving a sigh Feravel made to rub her eyes but found her hands captive in his larger ones.

"What was that?" he asked sternly.

Pursing her lips, Feravel planned on telling him to buzz off, but the look in his eye made her pause.

"Tadpal things...if you must know."

"Oh." He sounded strangely disappointed.

"Anyway." She went to pull her hands away, but he didn't let go. "I've got to go."

She tried to stand, but he followed her up still holding her hands.

"Gortash." Feravel said warningly.

"Enver." He corrected.

Warmth flooded her chest. "Enver. Whatever."

He smirked amused. "Fera."

"What?" She hadn't meant to snap, but the way he said her name made her flustered.

Enver puckered his lips as if for a kiss prompting Feravel to scoff. He laughed.

"Don't be so shy my dear."

She rolled her eyes and pulled her hands back sharply. Ignoring the satisfied look on his face, Feravel went to step around him in the direction of the door but he cut her off. Taking her by the waist,

Enver pulled her close and leaned down to her level.

"No need to be sour. I won't tell anyone, I swear. Just one to seal our newfound alliance."

Feravel narrowed her eyes gauging his seriousness. Unconsciously, she wet her lips. Before she could make any protestation, Enver swooped down and pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

"Goodnight."

She huffed and pushed away stalking off towards the door without looking back. Outside the fort, she was grateful for the chilly rain on her flushed cheeks. As she started walking Feravel opened the tadpole connection with Gale sending the quick message that she was safe and on her way back.

------

Notes: This was just supposed to be Feravel learning more about her past, but durgetash things. Next one of these is gonna be pre-tadpole lobotomy and hopefully more durge-y. I've got several ideas, but I'm a tad nervous about my Bhaalspawn portrayal. So wish me luck guys.

[snapghoul]

Snap I have to know how does sereshaw get together or do they need a little push from some friends, because I could totally see someone working something just get those two together

Don’t worry Sunshine I got you.

Before I get into it. Here’s a bit more about the twin AU world, focusing especially on the Top Gun elements. First, Ice is still alive—his death in the original storyline was a real blow, so I’ve kept him around. Slider is also present, though he’s retired. In this AU, Maverick and Penny aren’t romantically involved. Instead, Maverick assumes a fatherly role for everyone, stepping in to support Amelia as she navigates life without her own dad. There’s a touch of Icemav in this AU, just a hint, and I absolutely cherish it.

This head canon can also be stand alone.

Jake and Bradley's relationship was tumultuous from the start, shifting from rivals to friends, then lovers, to exes, back to rivals, and eventually to lovers again. They first got together after graduating from the naval academy, initially sparring as rivals until they realized their feelings ran deeper. Bradley made the first move, and their first kiss came while they were still in their dress blues. They enjoyed a few months of dancing together before they were stationed at separate locations. The distance was manageable at first, but after nearly six months without seeing each other, the strain became evident.

Jake knew almost everything about Bradley, and when Bradley was assigned to Top Gun, he became intensely focused on surpassing Maverick. This obsession strained their relationship, leading to its end. Bradley's refusal to explain his relentless drive to outfly the legendary Maverick created a rift, especially since Jake was unaware that Maverick was Bradley's surrogate father. It’s a topic Bradley keeps closest to his heart.

Despite their rocky past, Jake and Bradley still have lingering feelings for each other. After the events of the film, Coyote, ever the perceptive wingman, straightforwardly told Jake to give their relationship another shot. The Daggers all noticed the way they still gravitated toward each other, especially evident when Bradley’s remark, "You look... good," fooled no one. Phoenix, though playfully exasperated that Bradley had chosen Jake, also supported the reunion. She recognized that Bradley brings out Jake's true self, the genuine Jake Seresin, rather than the persona of Hangman.

Currently in the twin au, Bradley is in Oklahoma with Jake to visit Tyler. Although they remain cautious and cling to their safe spaces, both still a little nervous to make the move, afraid they’ll ruin their chance again. Being outside the military environment has helped them gain a bit more confidence, especially Bradley.

Now that Bradley has reconnected with him, Maverick, feeling like a weary old man, insists he's not the person to ask for relationship advice. However, he's always willing to listen to Bradley vent over the phone.

“Hangman? Really? Out of everyone?” Maverick asked, lounging in one of the mismatched chairs in his hangar.

“Mav, I don’t think you’re in a position to judge. Don’t make me call Slider—he’ll be more than happy to give examples. Or maybe I’ll call Ice.”

“Please don’t.”