#feed me your secret books

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

um um um FE takes. i think the funniest fucking thing to ever happen in FE is that takumi trips and falls into the bottomless canyon offscreen. i cannot describe my emotions at having the thing that leads to takumi being the FINAL BOSS of conquest being just "a thing that happens one time" in birthright.

like if you played conquest first (i knew ZILCH about birthright even if i've been rlly enjoying it so far) then this is your explanation. fell in it offscreen. anankos threw him back out because takumi is his blorbo. i choose to believe that azura could cure takumi early not because this is still early stages possession and takumi's soul isn't melted sludge yet, but because anankos is assured that his scrungly gets more screentime than in conquest because this is the hoshido route

takumi just. fucking. spawns in as an enemy in a random map. after the chapter ends everyone goes "damn takumi that was scary. don't do that again" and move on

of note also. AGAIN I'VE MADE TUMBLR POSTS ON THIS ALREADY BUT. ryoma was There when takumi fell in. takumi was PRESUMED DEAD. and ryoma just Fucking Left. (fair tbh considering you can't exactly retrieve a corpse from a BottomLess Canyon). but when ryoma joins the gang he isn't amazed that his brother is alive he's just. oh hi takumi. ryoma what is with you. how many layers of repressing your emotions for the greater good are you on. (everything can have in-universe interesting implications if you've got a shovel and are willing to dig.)

it's so funny. tripped and fell into the canyon offscreen. i can never fucking get over this.

.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

You should be using an RSS reader

On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, GEORGIA, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

No matter how hard we all wish it were otherwise, the sad fact is that there aren't really individual solutions to systemic problems. For example: your personal diligence in recycling will have no meaningful impact on the climate emergency.

I get it. People write to me all the time, they say, "What can I change about my life to fight enshittification, or, at the very least, to reduce the amount of enshittification that I, personally, experience?"

It's frustrating, but my general answer is, "Join a movement. Get involved with a union, with EFF, with the FSF. Tell your Congressional candidate to defend Lina Khan from billionaire Dem donors who want her fired. Do something systemic."

There's very little you can do as a consumer. You're not going to shop your way out of monopoly capitalism. Now that Amazon has destroyed most of the brick-and-mortar and digital stores out of business, boycotting Amazon often just means doing without. The collective action problem of leaving Twitter or Facebook is so insurmountable that you end up stuck there, with a bunch of people you love and rely on, who all love each other, all hate the platform, but can't agree on a day and time to leave or a destination to leave for and so end up stuck there.

I've been experiencing some challenging stuff in my personal life lately and yesterday, I just found myself unable to deal with my usual podcast fare so I tuned into the videos from the very last XOXO, in search of uplifting fare:

https://www.youtube.com/@xoxofest

I found it. Talks by Dan Olson, Cabel Sasser, Ed Yong and many others, especially Molly White:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MTaeVVAvk-c

Molly's talk was so, so good, but when I got to her call to action, I found myself pulling a bit of a face:

But the platforms do not exist without the people, and there are a lot more of us than there are of them. The platforms have installed themselves in a position of power, but they are also vulnerable…

Are the platforms really that vulnerable? The collective action problem is so hard, the switching costs are so high – maybe the fact that "there's a lot more of us than there are of them" is a bug, not a feature. The more of us there are, the thornier our collective action problem and the higher the switching costs, after all.

And then I had a realization: the conduit through which I experience Molly's excellent work is totally enshittification-proof, and the more I use it, the easier it is for everyone to be less enshittified.

This conduit is anti-lock-in, it works for nearly the whole internet. It is surveillance-resistant, far more accessible than the web or any mobile app interface. It is my secret super-power.

It's RSS.

RSS (one of those ancient internet acronyms with multiple definitions, including, but not limited to, "Really Simple Syndication") is an invisible, automatic way for internet-connected systems to public "feeds." For example, rather than reloading the Wired homepage every day and trying to figure out which stories are new (their layout makes this very hard to do!), you can just sign up for Wired's RSS feed, and use an RSS reader to monitor the site and preview new stories the moment they're published. Wired pushes about 600 words from each article into that feed, stripped of the usual stuff that makes Wired nearly impossible to read: no 20-second delay subscription pop-up, text in a font and size of your choosing. You can follow Wired's feed without any cookies, and Wired gets no information about which of its stories you read. Wired doesn't even get to know that you're monitoring its feed.

I don't mean to pick on Wired here. This goes for every news source I follow – from CNN to the New York Times. But RSS isn't just good for the news! It's good for everything. Your friends' blogs? Every blogging platform emits an RSS feed by default. You can follow every one of them in your reader.

Not just blogs. Do you follow a bunch of substackers or other newsletters? They've all got RSS feeds. You can read those newsletters without ever registering in the analytics of the platforms that host them. The text shows up in black and white (not the sadistic, 8-point, 80% grey-on-white type these things all default to). It is always delivered, without any risk of your email provider misclassifying an update as spam:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/10/dead-letters/

Did you know that, by default, your email sends information to mailing list platforms about your reading activity? The platform gets to know if you opened the message, and often how far along you've read in it. On top of that, they get all the private information your browser or app leaks about you, including your location. This is unbelievably gross, and you get to bypass all of it, just by reading in RSS.

Are your friends too pithy for a newsletter, preferring to quip on social media? Unfortunately, it's pretty hard to get an RSS feed from Insta/FB/Twitter, but all those new ones that have popped up? They all have feeds. You can follow any Mastodon account (which means you can follow any Threads account) via RSS. Same for Bluesky. That also goes for older platforms, like Tumblr and Medium. There's RSS for Hacker News, and there's a sub-feed for the comments on every story. You can get RSS feeds for the Fedex, UPS and USPS parcels you're awaiting, too.

Your local politician's website probably has an RSS feed. Ditto your state and national reps. There's an RSS feed for each federal agency (the FCC has a great blog!).

Your RSS reader lets you put all these feeds into folders if you want. You can even create automatic folders, based on keywords, or even things like "infrequently updated sites" (I follow a bunch of people via RSS who only update a couple times per year – cough, Danny O'Brien, cough – and never miss a post).

Your RSS reader doesn't (necessarily) have an algorithm. By default, you'll get everything as it appears, in reverse-chronological order.

Does that remind you of anything? Right: this is how social media used to work, before it was enshittified. You can single-handedly disenshittify your experience of virtually the entire web, just by switching to RSS, traveling back in time to the days when Facebook and Twitter were more interested in showing you the things you asked to see, rather than the ads and boosted content someone else would pay to cram into your eyeballs.

Now, you sign up to so many feeds that you're feeling overwhelmed and you want an algorithm to prioritize posts – or recommend content. Lots of RSS readers have some kind of algorithm and recommendation system (I use News, which offers both, though I don't use them – I like the glorious higgeldy-piggeldy of the undifferentiated firehose feed).

But you control the algorithm, you control the recommendations. And if a new RSS reader pops up with an algorithm you're dying to try, you can export all the feeds you follow with a single click, which will generate an OPML file. Then, with one click, you can import that OPML file into any other RSS reader in existence and all your feeds will be seamlessly migrated there. You can delete your old account, or you can even use different readers for different purposes.

You can access RSS in a browser or in an app on your phone (most RSS readers have an app), and they'll sync up, so a story you mark to read later on your phone will be waiting for you the next time you load up your reader in a browser tab, and you won't see the same stories twice (unless you want to, in which case you can mark them as unread).

RSS basically works like social media should work. Using RSS is a chance to visit a utopian future in which the platforms have no power, and all power is vested in publishers, who get to decide what to publish, and in readers, who have total control over what they read and how, without leaking any personal information through the simple act of reading.

And here's the best part: every time you use RSS, you bring that world closer into being! The collective action problem that the publishers and friends and politicians and businesses you care about is caused by the fact that everyone they want to reach is on a platform, so if they leave the platform, they'll lose that community. But the more people who use RSS to follow them, the less they'll depend on the platform.

Unlike those largely useless, performative boycotts of widely used platforms, switching to RSS doesn't require that you give anything up. Not only does switching to RSS let you continue to follow all the newsletters, webpages and social media accounts you're following now, it makes doing so better: more private, more accessible, and less enshittified.

Switching to RSS lets you experience just the good parts of the enshitternet, but that experience is delivered in manner that the new, good internet we're all dying for.

My own newsletter is delivered in fulltext via RSS. If you're reading this as a Mastodon or Twitter thread, on Tumblr or on Medium, or via email, you can get it by RSS instead:

https://pluralistic.net/feed/

Don't worry about which RSS reader you start with. It literally doesn't matter. Remember, you can switch readers with two clicks and take all the feeds you've subscribed to with you! If you want a recommendation, I have nothing but praise for Newsblur, which I've been paying $2/month for since 2011 (!):

https://newsblur.com/

Subscribing to feeds is super-easy, too: the links for RSS feeds are invisibly embedded in web-pages. Just paste the URL of a web-page into your RSS reader's "add feed" box and it'll automagically figure out where the feed lives and add it to your subscriptions.

It's still true that the new, good internet will require a movement to overcome the collective action problems and the legal barriers to disenshittifying things. Almost nothing you do as an individual is going to make a difference.

But using RSS will! Using RSS to follow the stuff that matters to you will have an immediate, profoundly beneficial impact on your own digital life – and it will appreciably, irreversibly nudge the whole internet towards a better state.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/16/keep-it-really-simple-stupid/#read-receipts-are-you-kidding-me-seriously-fuck-that-noise

[moonstruckme]

pls hear me out 🙏🙏 vampire!james is recently turned and doesn’t feed cause he’s such a sweetheart he doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

reader notices how weak he is and finds out he hasn’t been feeding and basically offers herself to him and it’s just really comforting and cute

Babe I hear you !!! I hear you soooooo clear (the voices omg, I was so excited to write this). Thank you for requesting!

cw: blood mention

vampire!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.7k words

James never had a problem with eating animals before he became a vampire. You pointed this out to him, once, but he only said it’s different. You suppose it is. The chicken nuggets he used to devour came to him cooked, fried, and with sauces, utterly unrecognizable from what they’d once been. There’s no separating the live-ness from what James has to eat now. 

You spy on him over the top of your book. He’s sitting on the other end of the loveseat with your feet in his lap, massaging your arches through your thick socks while he watches a football match on the telly. His dusky skin had paled after he was turned a few weeks back, but he looks even paler than that now. If he were still human you’d think he was anemic. It’s four in the afternoon, and your ball-of-energy boyfriend looks as tired as if he’s ready for bed. 

“Jamie,” you say, and he squeezes your heel to indicate he’s listening, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can, lovely, yeah.” 

“Have you been feeding?” 

James stiffens at the term. “Mm, why do you ask?” 

It’s as close as he thinks he can get to a non-answer, and it’s an answer for you anyways. James can never stand to lie to you. It’s terribly endearing. 

You turn your foot to poke his abdomen. “I can hear your stomach growling.” 

His lips curve. He glances at you. “I’m not sure that’s how it works.” 

“Really? How does it work?” 

“I don’t actually have a clue.” James smiles, which was your aim. He’s been far too downcast for your liking, his new condition entirely to blame. 

“Well, you’re looking pale.” 

“I’ve been pale.” 

“Paler than pale.” You set your book on the side table, moving closer to him. You sit with your feet folded under you. “Also, you haven’t been going out to feed like you used to.” 

James finally looks a bit sheepish. You smile and cup his face in your hand. Though he knows you know, James has still been a tad secretive about the vampire business around you. He sneaks out after he thinks you’re asleep. You’ll hear the front door open and shut when he leaves and then again when he comes back, the kitchen tap running as he cleans himself up. You wish he’d just use the shower. You don’t mind him walking through your bedroom with blood and dirt on him if it means he gets to feel clean when he slips back into bed with you. 

You rub your thumb over his cheek. “What’s keeping you?” 

He sighs. His face weighs a bit heavier in your palm. You think this must be progress, and you repeat your ministrations to his cheek to encourage it. 

“Everything’s hibernating,” says James, a quiet shame underlying his tone. “The…things I used to feed from are gone, and I’m not left with a lot of choices.” 

You hum. “Well, you’ve gotta eat, Jamie.” 

He hesitates, and you give him your sternest look. 

“You do. What about the deer?” 

“They’re harder to catch. And…I…I just feel bad, you know?”

You nod. Take his hand and press a kiss to his palm. Your poor sweetheart. You know James hasn’t killed anything he’s fed from, but even scaring them and potentially hurting them for the time it takes him to feed rattles him terribly. He’s too good, good and kind down to his core, but you know he’s going to have to find some way to cope other than starving himself. 

“What about people?” 

James’ eyes round behind his glasses. “Wha—no, I—”

“I wouldn’t mind you using me.” 

He seems to falter for a moment. His thick brows draw together in stages, from disbelief to confusion and back again. “Angel,” he says, “I couldn’t do that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because, it’s—it would be—” 

“Or maybe we could try someone else. Someone bad, like a corrupt politician or one of those people who siphons money away from charities.” 

“No.” 

“Then we’re back to me.” You smile at him, one part teasing and two parts genuine. “James, I want to. I don’t like seeing you like this, and I really don’t think I’d mind it.” 

James looks like he’s still having trouble processing. “You don’t think you’d mind?” 

“I don’t,” you repeat patiently. “I’m sort of curious, actually. It could be fun.” 

He looks, to your surprise, like he might actually be considering it. He’s gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know if it’d be fun, angel.” 

“That’s okay,” you promise him. “I want to do it for you. You’re hungry, yeah?” You try to make your voice serene and persuasive, your hand coasting up and down his arm. “Let me help.” 

James looks you in your eyes. You hold his gaze. After a while, the fight seems to go out of him. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. 

“Oh, baby.” You kiss him on his cheek, your heart bulging. “You won’t. It’ll be fine. How do you want me? Hair up?” 

He shakes his head. “It’s good the way it is. I think, um, it might be easier if you were in my lap.” 

“Okay.” You grin, lifting your thigh over his so you’re straddling him. His hands settle on your hips. “Are you romancing me? Is this part of it?” 

James lifts the corners of his mouth, but you can see the trepidation lingering beneath his smile. You do your best to soothe it away with your hands on his shoulders. 

“I want to be gentle with you,” he says.

“I bet you say that to all your victims.” 

“Sweetheart…”

“Sorry, sorry.” You’re nervous. You kiss his nose in apology. 

“If I hurt you—if you don’t like it for any reason, I want you to squeeze my shoulder. Okay?” 

“Okay.” You nod, trying to look certain. “Does it usually hurt?”

“I don’t think so,” James admits. “With animals, they don’t usually…move much after I’ve bitten them. I’m not sure if it stuns them or what.” 

“I’ll report back,” you say seriously. You glance down at the couch cushions. “Will it be messy? Should we go to the bathroom or something?” 

“No, I’m—I’ve gotten better at it. We should be fine here.” 

You smile at him, your pride genuine. “Sounds good.” 

James is starting to look worried again, so you kiss him. On the lips, as sweet as you can muster, and imagine all your love pouring through it. Then, you pull your hair to one side and bear your neck. 

His pupils splay out.

“Remember to squeeze my shoulder.” He sounds hoarse. One of his hands slips up your back to steady you beneath your shoulder blades. 

“I will,” you vow. 

James looks dazed, almost reverent. He wets his lips, and when he opens his mouth you see his tongue skim over pointed teeth. Some prey animal’s instinct sends a shiver of fear through you. Your blood hums with anticipation. But just before James’ teeth skim your neck, he pauses. 

“Jamie.” It’s soft, a murmur, a plea. “It’s okay. Do whatever you want with me.” 

He makes a quiet sound, like a sigh or a whine, and closes the gap. 

At first, it’s only like he’s kissing you. He’s exceedingly sweet about it, lips opening warmly over your skin, his tongue pressing over your artery as though testing the waters. He splays his palm wide over your back in silent warning before his teeth sink into you. 

There’s a sting, but you were ready for it. You keep yourself from wincing, from doing anything that would make James move away, and after a second the pain dulls. Everything does, except for the extraordinary feel of James’ mouth on you. 

“Oh.” Your mouth opens of its own accord, head lolling further to the side to give him better access. You want more, more of this, more of him. Your brain fuzzes and your heart pounds, every nerve in your body narrowing its focus to where James is sucking at your neck, lapping you up. 

You wind your arms around his neck, wanting to be closer to him, and his palm coasts up your back comfortingly. You feel molten, spectacularly, transcendently languid, like you could press your fingertips to his shoulders and they’d melt right in. You don’t, not wanting him to misinterpret it as your signal and stop, but after a while James’ arms are the only thing keeping you from tipping sideways onto the couch, and he stops anyway. 

He finishes with a few chaste kisses, and you think giddily that you weren’t too far off about the romancing. 

“Y’okay, lovie?” he mumbles into your skin. 

You hum in reply. 

James presses one more sweet kiss to your neck, almost a thank-you. He seals the wound with his tongue. A giggle bubbles out of you, one shoulder coming up to ward him off. 

“Sorry,” you say to James’ surprised look. Your head is starting to clear. “That part tickled.” 

His grin splits his face, one part tentative and two parts relieved. “Yeah? Are you really okay?” 

“Super okay,” you promise him. You can’t help grinning. “You were right, it didn’t hurt. That was nice.”

James’ expression eases, some mix of relief and interest in his gaze. “Was it actually?” 

“Mhm. I would be your blood donor any time, really.” 

James scoffs, but he’s clearly elated. He strokes from your hip to your ribs with a big hand, trailing tender kisses up to your cheek. You’re thrilled to see how much more energy he already has. 

“I don’t know about that,” he says in between kisses. “I’d still rather not make you my victim if I can help it.” 

“I didn’t feel like a victim, if that helps.” Your words go mushy as he reaches your lips, but you keep talking, wanting to make your point. “I just mean, I wouldn’t mind doing it again. Maybe when you’re lacking in other options.” 

“Mm, maybe. What was it like?” 

“Like a really good kiss.” 

James backs up from you to give you a dubious look. “Better than the ones I give you normally?” 

You grin. “Maybe a little.” 

His eyebrows shoot up and his mouth drops open, curving on one side. “Oh, yeah? Bold claims.” 

“I don’t know if you can compete with whatever vampire magic that was, Jamie.”

“My kisses are very magical. It seems like I may have to remind you how good they really are, though.” 

You shrug coyly. “If you think you can top that, you’re welcome to try. I mean, you’re really only competing with your—”

James is on you before you can finish.

[harryspet]

homestead [4] r.cameron

[warnings] dark!rafe cameron x pregnant!reader, farmer!rafe, pogue!reader, jj maybank x reader, kidnapping, DUBCON, little editing,READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think!

word count: 3.6k

In which you can't escape from your inner turmoil, even in your dreams.

homestead masterlist

Tending to the entire house was hard work. You thought you’d be bored sooner than you actually ended up. It seemed there was always more to do with all the cooking you were doing and the laundry that Rafe went through. Sometimes, you imagined adding the demands of feeding a newborn every few hours or chasing a toddler around to your already packed routine. The thought was daunting, but you had signed up for it, knowing it would be difficult yet now you were relieved you wouldn’t be financially struggling through it.

Your growing belly had started to interfere with your daily chores. It was harder to breathe when you exerted yourself, and frequent trips to the bathroom were now the norm. Rafe never complained when the house wasn't perfect, but you knew it was because he was trying to regain your trust after losing control in the nursery. He wanted you to come to him willingly, but you weren’t mentally ready for that. When Rafe did touch you, he restrained his darker impulses, and while you never enthusiastically said “yes,” you found yourself denying him less and less.

When Rafe started leaving his bedroom unlocked, you knew it was safe to start cleaning it. You mostly used this time to snoop around. You weren’t sure what contact he kept with the outside world. He made sure you weren’t privy to the details of his business, and he never called his family when you were around. 

His room was like yours in many ways, yet distinctly different. You felt a more masculine presence than the rest of the farmhouse. The walls were a deep charcoal gray, and the bed had a thick, woolen blanket that looked inviting enough, but the large wooden bed frame was imposing. Heavy, dark curtains framed the windows on either side of the bed, and there was a seating area on one side of the room with a leather armchair next to a couple of shelves containing a few trinkets and books. Rafe’s closet contained your most considerable curiosity, a substantial black safe. 

The way Rafe opened the house to you was purposeful, he wanted you to feel welcome here, but he couldn’t deny he had secrets. You knew at least a few of those secrets were inside that safe. 

Every time you went inside the closet to put away Rafe’s laundry or organize his clothes, you thought about the years that had passed and everything you didn’t know about him. You were in one of those moments, standing in Rafe’s closet, when you heard the shower start in the connecting room. Rafe had appeared from an afternoon in the fields. You weren’t sure if he hadn’t realized you were there, but he’d already started undressing, his chiseled frame glistening with sweat and dirt. 

“Hey,” You whispered, not wanting to startle him, but he was already grinning at the sight of you.

“Hey, Honey,” He started to undo his belt, and you felt trapped, most of his figure blocking the view of the bathroom doorway, “How you doing?”

You shrugged like you usually did, “Fine, I was just …hanging up your dress shirts.”

“Nice,” He slid off his pants, and you weren’t sure why you didn’t avert your eyes; maybe because you felt yourself starved from any other human connection expect Rafe’s, “I’ll be gone for longer than usual tomorrow.”

“Cameron Development business?”

He didn’t confirm nor deny, “You mind picking out my clothes? You have a better eye for colors and stuff, you know?”

“Sure,” You took that as your opportunity to stop staring at the figure that seemed to be growing even more pristine as the manual labor toned his muscles. You resented it slightly, feeling less and less like yourself as your child grew inside of you. 

The closet was a strange mix of outdoor clothing and high-end suits, a signal of the true duality of Rafe’s life. Thanks to you, it was more organized now, and you spent time scanning the rows of clothes. You chose a tailored navy suit, thinking of his muscular build and the deep blue of his eyes. You paired it with a crisp, white dress shirt and a tie with a subtle, sophisticated pattern of navy and silver. Completing the look, you picked out his polished, black leather dress shoes and matching belt. 

You hadn’t realized just how much time you spent mulling it over. As soon as you laid it out on top of the closet’s chaise lounge chair, Rafe stood beside you with a towel wrapped around his waist. 

“I’m impressed,” He said, leaning over to peck your cheek. 

“Thanks.”

“Stay with me in my room tonight,” Rafe said, his fingers trailing down from your shoulder to your arm. He moved in closer, leaning down to kiss below your ear, “Missed you all day.”

“Rafe,” You sighed as he placed a kiss lower on your neck. In saying his name, you said a million different things. It was a warning that you might resist, that you loved his touch but hated how much you did. 

“I gave you your own space because of your …condition. But after the baby comes, this is going to become our room. I want you to get comfortable here.”

Again, it felt like he was asking the world of you. You imagined laying next to him night after night and him rolling over, taking what he wanted from you anytime he liked. When you thought about it for a moment longer, it wasn’t much different than how things were now. 

“I…I wanted to ask you something,” You placed a hand on his chest and he placed his larger one over yours.

“Yeah?”

“Now that I’m in my third trimester, I’ve been thinking more about, you know, giving birth,” You found it hard to meet his eyes, but you did your best, especially as they started to narrow at you, “With me being here, I guess I don’t know what my plan is anymore.”

“Don’t worry, Honey,” Rafe said, “You think I don’t have a plan?”

“I didn’t know how far we were from the hospital-”

You felt his heart quicken underneath your touch, “A hospital is like, not even Plan C, it’s Plan E. You’ll do it here. People do home births all the time.”

Your face fell quickly, and you pulled your hand from him, “You’re not serious.”

“I’ve been doing my research. As long as we have the proper people involved and the right equipment, it can work!”

“It’s my first pregnancy, Rafe! I want a real hospital with lots of nurses and a real doctor. I want an epidural, and I want my baby to have immediate medical care if he needs it. You’re crazy!”

“It’s not happening.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You cursed, your temper flaring. He grabbed your wrist, keeping you from stepping away, “Get away from me!”

“Calm down,” Rafe grabbed both of your arms, pinning you in front of him, “This is why I didn’t fucking bring it up.”

“Let go of me,” You gritted your teeth, “Please.”

“You have to trust me. I can handle this.”

“I don’t want you … I don’t want just you to handle everything,” you replied, trying to find your calm, knowing you might set him off pretty soon. “Please, just—we have to be able to discuss this more. If you need reassurance that I won’t run or tell anyone what happened, then I will do whatever. I care about the baby more than myself.”

“I wouldn’t put you or the baby in harm's way.”

“I know,” you lied.

“Then don’t imply that I would.”

 “Can you just be open-minded about this?”

His eyes held a lot of emotions, but he nodded. As if each of you were frightened of escalating each other further, you pulled away from each other. 

“I want to sleep in my bed; I toss and turn so much, and my pillow-”

“Go ahead, I don’t give a shit,” Rafe crossed his arms, giving in so quickly that your eyes widened in shock. You didn’t waste the opportunity, scurrying off as quickly as your legs would take you. 

You didn’t see Rafe for the rest of that night and were grateful he wasn’t around the next day, either. 

“I like the name Kai,” you said, looking up, your head resting on top of someone’s warm lap, feeling the sun for the first time in a long time. “It means sea in Hawaiian. If they grow up here, they have to like the ocean.”

“I was thinking something edgier,” you heard JJ say, his gaze also moving toward the beautiful sky above. Lush, rolling fields surrounding you, “Maybe like Talon or Blaze? Something cool so, you know, the other kids don’t pick on ‘em.”

“No way,” She shook your head, giggling, “That is exactly the type of kid someone would pick on.”

“Fine …Kai. I don’t dislike it,” JJ seemed to ponder the name longer,.

You sat up from his lap, finally gazing at your handsome boyfriend. “I like it. We don’t have to pick one now, but … I’m just saying.” 

The two of you were sitting on top of a plaid blanket you didn’t recognize, and you didn’t recognize what part of The Cut you were in, either. JJ must’ve surprised you for a date. A cheap picnic was always up his aisle, and you never cared for fancy dates. 

“I still can’t believe there’s going to be a little Maybank,” you said, reaching out to touch his blonde, windswept hair. “I mean, I already love him. It makes me think my Dad must’ve never felt this way about me.”

He touched your bump, and you felt like you were filled with happiness. Everything was right. Things would be challenging, but at least you’d have each other. 

“My parents, too,” the words were solemn, but you felt the opposite, “It’s their loss.”

Neither of you had the families you deserved, but you could provide that happiness to Kai . . . or whatever name ended up suiting your angel. 

“Picking a name is hard. What if we look at him, and he just doesn’t match the one we chose?” You wondered. 

“Then we change it. He could have no name for all I care. As long as he’s healthy.”

You brought your lips to his and melted into him. Strong arms wrapped around your back as he deepened the kiss further. You were at home. 

When you opened your eyes again, breathless from the kiss, you knew you weren’t home at all. Tears filled JJ’s ocean eyes and the sky turned a darker blue. 

“Have you asked Rafe what he thinks about the baby’s name?”

“Wha-” Your lips parted, the air growing from warm to humid. A storm was brewing above that field of flowers. Now that you glanced around, those flowers were just weeds. 

“You should ask him.”

“Why would I ask Rafe, JJ?”

“Why not? He won. He gets you. He gets the baby.”

“He didn’t win. I just …” It came to you then. JJ never got to feel your pregnant belly. He never knew you were having a boy. How could you feel connected to him from behind the glass in the visiting room? “I-I’m going to figure this out.”

“You’re giving in.”

“I’m not!” You pushed at his chest, but he didn’t budge. 

“You should’ve never let him in.”

“I’m sorry,” You were crying now, “I-I was so lonely, and… you left me!”

He turned his head, and you felt the rain starting to fall, “You’ll forget about me soon enough. He’ll never know me.”

“Please, you have to find us.” The words left your lips just as lightning struck. 

You screamed yourself awake. 

You pushed around the baby potatoes on your plate, sitting across from Rafe at the dinner table. This entire week, you’d been struggling with eating. You felt the baby resting so high that you felt full quicker than expected. It didn’t help that you were facing the reality of giving birth inside this house and possibly never seeing the outside world again. 

You wanted nothing more than to meet your baby, but you felt yourself growing more complacent as your time here and the pregnancy went along. Realistically, how far could you get now that you were this pregnant? And how could you leave with a newborn?

“Is the baby moving a lot?” Rafe brought a piece of steak to his mouth, watching you intently as you played with your food. 

“Yeah … a little too much.”

“Hey, an active baby is a healthy one.”

You wanted to roll your eyes, “You read that in one of your parenting books?”

He winked at you, “Yes, I did.”

“I’m glad you know everything now.”

“You’d know more if you spent some of your free time reading. You haven’t touched a single one.”

“I’m exhausted lately, but thanks.”

Rafe nodded, “Well, makes sense; your body is changing so much. I should stay home more so I can take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself,” You said quickly. 

His fork and knife clanged against his plate as he placed them down. He leaned forward, eyes gazing sharply at you, “What’s gotten into you lately?”

“Rafe, don’t,” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes now. 

“I’m serious …did I do something? Things have been going good.”

You went silent, “Can I be excused?”

“You cannot,” his fist slammed down on the table, making you jump. “I had our whole night planned out, starting with dinner. So you’ll finish dinner with me, we will go on a walk, and then stay in my bed tonight.”

“I don’t feel-”

“I don’t care. I don’t ask too much of you,” Rafe interrupted, “If you can act a little bit more pleasant, I’ll still give you the surprise I was planning.”

“A surprise?”

“You’re going to regret acting like a brat when you see it.” 

Your mouth parted in shock, but his deadly look had you crossing your arms and sitting back silently in your chair. 

Rafe’s hands were intertwined with yours as you walked down an unfamiliar winding path. Cicadas had begun chirping, and the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the property. This was only the third time you’d physically left the house, Rafe allowing you earlier in your pregnancy to follow him around to meet all of the animals. 

Now, due to your swollen feet, you didn’t fit into the work overalls Rafe purchased for you or the boots. You walked in silence for the most part, imagining that Rafe was stewing with anger after your behavior at dinner. You cared little that you’d upset him; your mind was focused on repressing the nightmares you’d be having about JJ. 

After a few minutes, you arrived at a small, fenced-in area near one of the barns. Your curiosity was piqued when you saw a little pen set up in the middle of the grassy area. Inside was a bundle of fur that wiggled and barked excitedly as you approached. 

“C’mere, Honey,” He pulled you closer to the pin. The small dog was a golden brown color with long, shaggy ears, and you noticed a red gift bow tied around its neck. 

“A puppy?” You asked, leaning forward. The puppy stood up on its hind legs, and bounded over the pen's edge, tail wagging furiously. 

“She’s cute, right?” Rafe scooped the puppy quickly into its arms. 

“You bought a puppy,” you couldn’t help yourself, starting to pet its soft fur as Rafe held her close. “This is the surprise?”

“Part of it,” Rafe smiled, “You could use more company.” 

You couldn’t help but notice that your lips started to pull into a smile as the puppy tilted its head closer to you, licking at your cheek, “Oh … look at her,” You said, your heart swelling. Rafe had successfully subverted your expectations. Who were you to deny the cutest animal you’d ever seen? You should welcome any happiness your new world wanted to bring you, no matter how much regret JJ made you feel in your dreams, “You didn’t have to…”

“I want you to have her. She’s a cocker spaniel. Guy who sold her to me said they’re good with kids.” 

“I love her,” You spoke honestly, scratching behind her ears. 

“Look at her collar,” He gave you a suspicious look.

“Why?”

“Just look,” You hesitated but couldn’t imagine him playing a trick on you right now. 

After spinning the tiny collar around her neck, you found the second part of your surprise. Hanging on its collar was a ring with a gold band an a huge, oval-shaped diamond. You inspected it closer, not meeting Rafe’s eyes. Your heart was beating way too fast to look at him. You knew little about engagement rings, but you knew what you were looking at would be considered top-tier. 

“Here,” he said, placing the puppy back down in the pin and maneuvering its collar to free the ring. He held it out to you, and as you stood there, frozen, he took your hand. You didn’t pull away as he eased it onto your left ring finger, “I know we can’t have a traditional ceremony, but I just thought you might think this was special.”

Your lips parted, but Rafe shushed you, “You don’t have to say anything.”

Rafe’s eyes searched yours, waiting for any sign of acceptance. You looked down, the diamond catching the light of the setting sun.

“Let’s bring her inside,” Rafe suggested after a long moment. You nodded, and he leaned over to kiss your forehead before lifting the puppy again. 

Rafe led you back to the house, and his words echoed in your head. What had he done to deserve your attitude? Things were going well. In exchange for caring for the house, you relax in a comfortable environment where your baby can grow peacefully. He’d bought you a gorgeous ring and a puppy to discourage your loneliness. Maybe you were just wholly ungrateful. 

You helped Rafe set up an area for her in the living room.

“She’s gonna need a name.”

“What do you think?” You asked him quietly. 

You resisted the idea of naming your baby without JJ, but maybe you could share this intimate, normal thing with Rafe. 

He propped his fist underneath his chin, thinking, and stared down at the dog, “Are you opposed to a human name?”

“I’m not opposed to anything.”

He seemed a bit surprised by your reaction, but he continued his thinking pose. 

“She’s gonna be really sweet, I can already tell. To me, she looks like a Lucy or like a Molly.”

“Molly is cute. Classic sounding,” You nodded, leaning down to pet her, “You’re so adorable. You need wittle pink hairbows, don’t you, Molly?” 

You heard him chuckle at your high-pitched tone, “It’s settled then. Welcome to the family, Molly.”

As the evening progressed and after you got plenty of puppy cuddles, Rafe escorted you upstairs. The atmosphere was different than the last time you were together there. It was softer and more intimate. He helped you out of your clothes, gentle and considerate of your bump. You didn’t let yourself overthink any longer for the night. 

Your body was so much different from when he first brought you here, yet Rafe’s eyes were hungrier than ever. You couldn’t feel vulnerable for too long because soon he was naked too and pressed against you. The touching, soothing words in your ear and the gentle hands on your belly were almost too much. 

When the time came, Rafe guided you on top of him. He kept you steady, supporting your body with his strong hands as you straddled his lap. That night, you controlled the pace, and the position allowed you to ease the discomfort your belly caused. He watched you like a fine painting hanging in a museum, and his hands never left your hips. 

“Take your time,” He grunted huskily, “You’re doing so good, Honey.”

You loved the praise. You basked in his words and his gaze. You wanted to feel like you were doing the right thing, that you would be a good Mom, and Rafe was always there to confirm that. Your head rolled back, lips parting, as your movements became more frantic and rapid. 

You lost your rhythm, the intensity bringing tears to your eyes.

“Good girl, Honey,” As you grew tired, Rafe moved your hips for you. Hands pressing into his thick chest, you whined, feeling him in the deepest parts of you, “Give Daddy all of it.” 

“Fuck, Rafe!” You cursed, shaking, and he groaned in response, “I’m coming.”

He moved your hips faster, the grinding motion sending you over the cliff towards your orgasm. You felt yourself tightening around him, and like a chain reaction, Rafe’s eyes closed tightly as his orgasm came, “Jesus, baby,” Hands still tight on your hips, he finished deep inside of you, but you’d reached the point of overstimulation now. 

You climbed off of him, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. He caught you in his arms, pressing his body into yours, “Thank you,” You heard him say in your ear, his voice raw with emotion, “Fuck, I love you so much.”

You nestled into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours and the soft sheets beneath you. When you drifted off to sleep, you saw no raging storms, felt no overwhelming guilt, and JJ never appeared. For the first time in a long while, you slept peacefully, cocooned in the safety of Rafe’s love.

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think!

[milunalupin]

— take a chance on me

james potter x reader ★ 761 words

James knew from the moment he saw you, you were the one.

He sees you every week at the same bakery, ordering the same drink and the same pastry. You were the one he'd befriend, subtly flirt with, and eventually ask on a date. He'd pick you up with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, take you to dinner nearby. You two share a dessert, the kind James carefully spoons into your mouth with an adoring smile. Like the gentleman he is he'll walk you back home, brushing his hand against yours until he's brave enough to just take it.

After a few months of seeing each other he'd ask you to be his, officially. Probably with a box of pastries from your favorite bakery, and a cheesy card that makes his heart skip a beat when you laugh at it. You two would spend the evening eating takeout and watching your favorite movies, finishing off the night with him feeding you the last fruit tart in bed. He'll whisper sweet nothings until you fall into a beautiful slumber in his arms.

He'll tell you he loves you. Probably on the beach, because Sirius told him it's romantic and girls like that sort of thing. He'll most likely be in tears as he tells you how much you mean to him, and that there's no one else in the world who could make him feel this way. You'll laugh while wiping his tears as well as your own, only making him cry more when you tell him you love him too.

James wants you to meet his parents. Just a casual dinner at the Potter's, he'll tell you. He'll watch in adoration as you fret around your room figuring out what to wear, you don't want to give off a bad first impression. He'll tell you they'll love you, because he does so why wouldn't they? You'll laugh as he pepper your face with kisses and showers you with every compliment in the book.

The Potters are nothing if not kind. Once arriving at his childhood home, James will take your coat. Mr. Potter will give you a handshake, and wonder how you put up with his son. Mrs. Potter will laugh and usher you into the kitchen, where she'll have tea ready for you. You'll all have a good chat over home baked biscuits, and play a round of blackjack or two. By the end of your stay you'll already be called 'daughter-in-law', and have a tin of leftovers to take home.

James will be nervous to ask you to move in with him, but you'll jump into his arms and say yes. It'll take you two along with the help of Sirius and Remus to carry in all of your things, except the latter will sneak off with you to drink lemonade in the kitchen. Sirius will whine about how it's not fair that he's come out with chipped nail polish and frizzy hair while Remus was gossiping with you. Remus will remind him that he has chronic pain and the exercise will be good for his tattooed friend.

You'll come home one day to a box of chocolates and a letter laying by the front door. The letter will be filled with loving words and directions to a secret location. It'll lead you to a park, one where James had taken you several times on picnics. This time, there will be a rose-filled path leading you to a small platform where your boyfriend will be nervously standing. A small speaker will accompany him, your favorite love song playing softly.

Once you reach him he'll shakily get down on one knee, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his suit jacket and pull out a small velvet box from his pocket. He'll open and close his mouth, unable to get any words out. You'll bend down to cradle his face, telling him he doesn't have to say anything, and kiss him.

The two of you will plan and have the most memorable time of your lives the day of your wedding, with much help from your loved ones. Your now husband will not be able to keep his emotions in check, not even when you're in the hotel bed at the end of the night. He'll tell you there's nothing else he could wish for, now that he has you for the rest of his life.

James knew from the moment he saw you, you were the one.

He only hopes that one day you'll look back at him.

[vivwritesfics]

Hooked On A Feeling

Chapter One - Olivia Ricciardo

Daniel is a Formula One driver, but, more importantly, he was a single dad to a wonderful little girl. He wants her to be a normal little girl, to have a normal social life, so he sends her to daycare. That was where she met Milo, her future best friend.

Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)

1.6K

Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader

Series Masterlist

Olivia Ricciardo came running out of daycare with a wide grin on her face. Her grandparents just wished her dad could have been there to see it as she ran into their arms. It wasn’t his fault; even once his little girl was born, he still had a job to do.

Daniel was there for half of the week at least. But for the rest of the week, his parents took care of her, feeding her, letting her sleep in the bedroom she had in their house, and transporting her to and from daycare. Every time her dad would leave, Olivia would scream and cry for at least a couple of hours. At least until her grandparents had her facetiming her father and Daniel could talk to his little girl.

This time, when Olivia came running out to her grandparents car, she immediately asked if she could call her daddy. “I wanna tell him about the new friend I made!” she said through a wide grin as she bounced in her seat.

As her grandma drove, her grandpa pulled out his phone, calling Daniel. He kept a hold of the phone until his son picked up. After saying hello to him, he passed the phone back to Olivia. “Hi daddy!” She called, but Daniel could hardly see her from how much she was moving the phone around.

“Hi, Livvy!” Daniel grinned at his daughter. He’d missed her so much this week. His short break the year before, before he had been placed in the AlphaTauri, he’d spent the entire time with Olivia. He’d only gone to the races on the weekends, and since Olivia only went to daycare on Tuesday to Friday, she went with him.

But now that Daniel was driving again, he left Olivia with his parents. He didn’t want to take her out of daycare to be at his races; that was how she socialized. And this was proof of that.

“Daddy, I made a new friend!” Olivia shouted.

Daniel couldn’t stop his grin from becoming wider at that. “That’s great news Livvy!” He shouted, telling the news to whoever was near him.  

Suddenly the phone moved away from her dad. Olivia watched as somebody else grabbed hold of the phone, holding it in front of his face. “Hi, Livia!” Said her Uncle Max as he held the phone up in front of his face. As usual, he wore his Redbull hat. This one had a number One on it. Olivia had several Redbull hats. She had several with her dad’s number and one of Max’s old ones, with the thirty-three on it. “Your dad tells me you made a new friend!”

“Yeah, uncle Max. His name is Milo and he shared his crayons with me so that I could do my colouring book.”

"That's great, Livia!" Max said.

He said his goodbyes and passed the phone back to Daniel, who was only too happy to be talking to his daughter again. "Maybe you could invite Milo round for a playdate when you're back from your mums house, Jelly Bean," he said and the smile dropped from Olivias face.

It was so secret who Olivias favourite parents was. Even though she rarely got to see him, she loved her dad more than anything. Daniel didn't know what happened at his ex's place in what made Olivia hate it so much, but he had no right to stop it.

If he tried, his ex could easily pull up the fact that Daniel was never there and his parents saw Olivia more than he did. If Olivia would tell him why she hated it, maybe he could do something that would stop her from having to spend every other week with her mother.

"But, daddy, I want to be there when you get home," Olivia said, wearing a pout.

Daniel hated seeing his little girl like that. He loved her more than anything and never wanted to see the smile drop from her face. His Olivia, he'd go to the ends of the earth for her.

The people surrounding him indicated that it was time to go, but Daniel kept smiling as he looked at the phone. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay, Jelly Bean?"

"Okay," she said and passed the phone back to her grandfather without saying goodbye.

Daniel smile turned sad as he looked at his father. "Make sure she has snuffles before she goes," he said sadly before saying goodbye to his parents. They knew what to do by now, they'd been sending her to her mother’s house for the last five years.

“What’re we having for dinner tonight, Livvy?” Her grandma asked as they pulled into the driveway.

The scowl dropped from Oliva’s face and she started bouncing in her seat, chanting ‘turkey dinosaurs!’ over and over again.

Turkey dinosaurs it was.

***

“Milo, honey, can you feed the cat please!” Y/N shouted, pulling the phone away from her ear as she turned back to the stove.

Milo came running down the stairs, already in his dinosaur pyjamas and dinosaur slippers. He ran to the front door, where the cat bowl was, and used the tiny, novelty shovel to scoop the cat food into the bowl. It was a little too much, but Poppy (the cat) wouldn’t mind.

“Wash your hands for dinner!” She shouted and placed the phone back between her shoulder and her ear.

“Mum, I don’t need your money,” she said as she plated up the Italian dish she had made. Well, it was spaghetti with carbonara, with turkey dinosaurs on the side to get Milo to eat it.

She heard her mother sigh down the phone. “Well, if you won’t take our money, your father and I are going to visit,” she said and hung up, without saying so much as a goodbye.

Placing her phone down, Y/N put the plates on the table and waited for Milo to come running in. He jumped into his chair and picked up his knives and fork. “I made a new friend today, momma!” Called Milo as he put down his knife and fork and picked up the turkey tyrannosaurus. He bit the head off and roared with the food still in his mouth, leading his mother to scold him.

“Tell me about your new friend, Mi,” she said as she ate her own dinner (like Milo, Y/N had a turkey dinosaur on her plate. It was the triceratops, Milo’s least favourite).

So, Milo told his mother all about his new friend, Olivia Ricciardo. He boasted about how he shared his pencils and Miss Green didn’t even have to ask him. Olivia sat beside him as they coloured, telling him all about her dad who drove race cars.

“Yeah, momma! Her dad is a famous race car driver! How cool is that?”

“Very cool, Milo,” Y/N answered as she picked up his plate to clear up. Of course, she didn’t believe that Milo’s new friend’s father was a famous race car driver. That was the sort of things kids said to impress each other. Just six months before Milo had told some boys that his father was a famous football player.

Milo stayed sat at the kitchen table, kicking his feet. “I can’t wait for daycare,” he said to himself as he knocked his fist against the table in time to the music.

Y/N couldn’t stop herself from grinning as Milo continued talking about daycare. It hadn’t had an easy time making friends, but now he had one and she couldn’t be happier.

As soon as she was finished with the washing up, Y/N ruffled his hair with her soapy hands. “Bedtime, little man,” she said, and Milo jumped out of his chair and ran up the stairs.

He ran into his bedroom and dove under the covers. He grabbed a hold of Rexy, his tyrannosaurus teddy bear, and Spike, his Stegosaurus teddy bear, and held them close. He watched as his mum walked in and pulled a book from his shelf. “How do we feel about the magician’s nephew?” She asked as she pulled the little book from the shelf.

“Yay, Narnia!” Milo called as Y/N sat on the end of the bed and cracked open the book. Just a few months ago Milo had been complaining about picture books, since one of the boys in his class had started reading actual books. So, Y/N was working with him so that he could read ordinary books on his own.

“Momma,” Milo began, interrupting her as she read. “Can Olivia come round for a playdate?”

Y/N placed a dinosaur bookmark between the pages. “Only if Olivia’s mummy and daddy say it’s okay,” she said as she put the book back and switched on his dinosaur night light.

“Olivia doesn’t like her mummy,” Milo replied as she turned on his side, still holding Spike and Rexy.

Y/N walked over and kissed the top of his head as she tucked him in. “Well, I’ll just have to speak to her daddy then, won’t I,” she said and stood up straight. “Goodnight, Munchkin,” she said as Milo turned towards the wall, his eyes shut.

“Goodnight, momma.”

Y/N walked out of the room, leaving the door open just a little. As she left Poppy the cat ran in and jumped on his bed (a dinosaur blanket, of course), curling up by his feet.

With Milo now asleep, Y/N went back downstairs. She sat at the kitchen table, pulled out her laptop and, like she did every night, began writing.

Taglist (OPEN): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye

[frantic-fiction]

Payback 18+

(Pic: northernolddragon) I cropped it

Astarion x f!reader, Astarion x f!Tav

Summary: Astarion goes too far and embarrasses Tav in front of the party. She decides she wants a bit of revenge.

Warning: Smut, MDNI, slight Dom!reader, slight Sub!Astarion, Dom/Sub switch (kinda?), delayed orgasm, Oral sex m and f receiving, PnV sex,

Word Count: 3.8k (I'm a gremlin who just can't help myself)

Masterlist

That fucking asshole. How dare he? You slammed open the door, the handle hitting the wall with a resounding smack. Locking it behind you, you kick off your shoes, stumble over your feet, and rip off your dress. You begin throwing off every other accessory and remaining article of clothing until you are completely bare and breathing heavily. You sigh, frustrated, and pull on a pair of trousers and an old, tattered shirt. Anger pulses through your veins, and embarrassment burns deep in your chest. Falling onto the bed, you drop your face into your hands and pull at the ends of your hair.

Astarion went too far this time. Usually, you loved his sassy comments and sarcastic humor. You were typically the first to laugh when he jests and pokes fun at you and the other party members. But how can you laugh when his lighthearted jokes turn to dirty secrets? When he's telling your friends out in a crowded pub intimate details from your sex life.

You should have known it was a bad idea to have Astarion feed from you while there was liquor coursing through your veins. But he was curious and very convincing. It didn't take long before you were offering him your wrist. Neither of you really thought the alcohol would affect Astarion, and you didn't expect Astarion to be such a fucking ass when intoxicated. 

He teased you and shared private moments all night, and you wanted to hate him. Moreover, you wanted him to be sorry. Beg for forgiveness and mean it. But Astarion is a prideful man and has a stupidly hard time giving out apologies. He's improved, especially with you, but you don't want a simple sorry. You want payback, a little revenge, or as close to it as possible.

A sudden, devilish thought crosses your mind, and you know how you're going to get just that. Quickly, you jump up and move to set your plan in motion. You clean up the room, erasing your angry tantrum from before, and strip down naked once more. You dig around Astarion's pack and pull out his white-laced shirt. And then you wait for him. 

It takes just under an hour of waiting. You filled the time with one of the books you picked up the other day. But just as you go to flip another page, the door handle twists, catching on the lock. You’re on your feet and at the door before Astarion can attempt to unlock it. The palm of your hand hits the door hard, and you're holding it close. 

"Why should I let you in?" Your tone lace with venom.

"Darling," Astarion sighs, a tinge of exhaustion undertoned in his words, his voice no longer holding that annoying drunken slur. "Must we do this?"

"You weren't very nice to me tonight." You lean your back against the door, crossing your arms. “I have half a mind to make you bunk with someone else.”

His head falls against the wood, pushing lightly against your back. "If you let me in, I promise I'll make it up to you." It felt like he was breathing these words sinfully into your ear. 

You flip the lock and open the door. "Say you're sorry."

"Is that really what you want?" He purrs, his eyes darkening and pressing into your space. "I much prefer physical apologies."

Astarion pulls you into a lustful kiss, his hand snaking up your shirt and massaging your breast. He bites your lip, and when you gasp, he licks into your mouth. He traces his fingers over your hip bone and pulls you close.

"Wearing my shirt with no underwear?” He nips your bottom lip, and you shudder. “I don't think you're as mad as you say, my sweet."

You smile sharply and pull him further into the room. Reclaiming his lips, you start pulling at his shirt, exposing Astarion's pale skin. He's kissing down your neck, tugging your shirt aside to lather his tongue over your shoulder. His fangs tease your skin, and you moan. Trailing your fingertips down his stomach, you undo his pants, tugging it down. Astarion steps out, leaving him in a pair of tight briefs, an outline of his swelling cock evident against the straining fabric. He pushes the trousers to the side, and the two of you fall onto the bed in a heap.

"Who says this is for you?" you say coyly, forcing his head to the side and biting hard at his throat.

"Hells,"

"Maybe I was going to take care of myself tonight." You kiss his cheek "Take a bath, have some wine," you bring your lips to his ear. "Touch myself." You tease his ear between your teeth. His grip tightens on you. "I don't need you to please myself, Astarion."

Astarion groans deep in his chest and runs his hands up your thighs to the swell of your ass. He grinds you down onto his half-hard cock. "But here we are." 

"But here we are." You mimic, smiling smugly, relishing how Astarion so confidently believes he holds all the cards.

He kisses you again, and you let him. You could easily get lost in the wet dance of lips and the delicious silent promises of more to come. Give in and just let Astarion consume you. But no, you are far more excited with what's to come. 

"I want to taste you." You moan needily- dragging your teeth down his chest. Maybe you were playing it up, but it seemed to work. You circle his nipple with your tongue, and Astarion lets out a deep groan, nails digging into the plush flesh of your ass.

"Don't let me stop you, my love," 

You tug his cock out and squeeze him softly; he's stiff and aching and instinctually bucks up into your palm. Licking over his nipple, you begin to suck. A trickle of precum starts to fall, and you collect it, beginning to stroke slowly. Kissing down his stomach, you reach his pelvic bone. You look up, meeting Astarion's intense gaze. His mouth is agape, his chest moving in harsh breaths. One hand is reaching up, gripping the headboard in an ironclad grip. You softly press a kiss to the tip of his cock before taking him into your mouth. 

"Fuck," He hissed through clenched teeth, "Gods, I love your mouth." 

Urged on by his response, you take more of him in his mouth and begin to move at a slow pace sucking and bobbing your head. Astarion's hands grabbed your shoulder and softly stroked up your neck to the back of your head. He didn't force the pace, just gently held your head, rubbing his thumb softly behind your ear.

"That's it, Darling. So good to me."

Heat rushes through your body, the praise going straight to your core. You hum and begin to bob your head faster. Sucking hard, hollowing your cheeks, you trail your hand down his tensed thigh and cup his balls. You roll him in your hands, and Astarion moans, thrusting into your mouth. You gag and grab his hips, holding him down with your weight.

He's close. His eyes are unfocused, trying desperately to stay on you; he's letting out breathless gasps and attempting to buck up into your mouth, seeking more for you to give. That's when you pull off of him entirely and squeeze his cock tightly.

Astarion lets out a needy whine, sits up, and instantly meets your eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. 

"Apologize!"

"What?" Astarion says, dazed and still lost in the loss of stimulation. Then it dawns on him, and he realizes what's happening. "Naughty little-"

You give him one stroke, and Astarion chokes. "Apologize for embarrassing me tonight."

"My sweet, I was intoxicated; it's not really my fault." He's trying to give off an air of indifference, but you know him better. Astarion was moments away from crumbling.

"I was just as drunk, and I wasn't telling everyone about our sex life." You lick over the tip and begin to stoke him slowly. "Apologize, and I might just let you fuck me."

He moans deeply, thrusting up into your fist. "I-ng shit, I'm sorry, you were upset with my words tonight."

"Nope, try again." You stop completely and meet his eyes. "You have to mean it."

"Please! My love, I'm sorry." His voice cracks. He's practically whimpering; he brings his fist to his mouth and bites down to keep a semblance of control. 

"That's closer, but what you said still hurts, so I want you to make it up to me." You move up his body and kiss him. "Do you want to make it up to me?"

"Yes! Anything!" He sounds so desperate. You don't think you've ever felt so aroused. You clench instinctually against nothing, seeking friction that's not there.

"I want you to beg. I want you to beg to fuck me, handsome" You scratch your nails teasingly down the broad of Astarion's chest. "I want everyone to hear how - how did you put it, love? 'desperate and needy' you are for me."

He looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, eyes blackened from arousal, and a smile stretches his lips."I like this side of you, Darling."

 Astarion captures your lips, and you're on your back before you can comprehend what's happening. "My sweet, please, I need to touch you." His voice is louder than it needs to be. 

"Do you?" You purr, hooking your leg over his hip. 

"Yes!" He moans out, rutting against your dripping cunt. "Please, I need you!"

You brush your hand through Astarions hair and pull him down for a kiss. "Then be a good boy and touch me." 

Astarion doesn't need to be told twice to tug up your shirt. You let him pull it off and throw it across the room. He starts to trail sloppy, wet kisses down the column of your neck. A rough hand grabs your breast, and nimble fingers pinch your nipple. You sigh and thrust your hips up when Astarions mouth finds your other nipple and rolls the peak softly between his teeth before sucking hard.

"Astarion," you moan, caressing any available skin of his you can reach. "So good to me."

He grunts at the praise and moves down your stomach, leaving kitten licks and sharp nips in his wake. His hands are trailing down your sides and stop to grip your hips in a firm hold. He pulls you down the bed, and you let out a little yelp. Astarion meets your half-lidded gaze and bites at the fat of your thigh, lapping up the droplets of blood that bead up to the surface. 

"The sweetest treat," Astarion moans, throwing your leg over his shoulder, trailing his nose down your thigh to the spot you want him most. But I'm still famished. I need more, please."

"Don't let me stop you, handsome." You smirked, mimicking his previous words. Your breath was catching, and you felt just as desperate as Astarion.

You let out a gargled mewl when Astarion trails one long agonizing lick up the length of your cunt. He never breaks eye contact; you bite your lip and grip one of your breasts, fisting the other into the bedsheet.

Astarion consumes you like he'll never be able to again. Desperate, messy, and with no care for the thinness of the walls. You gasp and instinctually try to clamp your legs close. His cold hands hold your hips apart, only allowing pathetic gyrates of your hips. The room is filled with filthy wet slurps and needy moans as Astarion tears you apart.

"Faster, Star. Don't you dare stop," you demand, grinding against his face, shivering when his pointed nose teases your clit. "Such a good boy."

His moan quakes through your cunt, and you throw your head back into the pillow, arching your back slightly. Astarion's fingers push into you and match the ragged pace of his mouth. Your hand finds his soft curls again and holds him in place, pulling gently at the roots. Astarion could break away anytime, but he seems to like it because you feel him grind down against the bed. 

"No, no, pretty boy." You tsk, pulling his hair harsher. He grunts against you, sucking harder at your clit. "You don't get to come until you’re forgiven."

Astarion pulls away from your clit, chin glistening with your juices. His fingers are still pumping into you. "You cruel women." He practically whines breathlessly.

"You're- shit- you're making up for your naughty behavior, remember?" The coil is tightening in your stomach, your body hot, and your breath shaky. "Now be good and make me come."

He smiles wickedly and resumes his ministrations. He curls his fingers up and presses against the spot that has you gasping in silent cries. His mouth finds your clit again and laps his tongue against it. He's relentless, and your legs are trembling. The pleasure is building, the flame licking through your veins. 

"m close, Star,"

He doesn't stop or voice any cheeky comments he would typically make. He just pumps his fingers faster and sucks and lavishes his tongue harder against your cunt. You feel your body tightening, and you grab for anything to hold on to; one hand is still in Astarion's hair, but your other hand grabs his shoulder, digging your nails into his flesh. Astarion scrapes his fangs playfully against your clit, and that's all you need to fall apart. 

You're moaning and screaming his name and mumbling incoherent praises into the air. Black spots seem to cloud over your vision, and all your muscles tighten at once. Astarion drags you through your orgasm, slowing his fingers and moving to soft kitten licks. It takes you a moment to return to yourself, and you are out of breath and covered in sweat. Looking down, you see Astarion. He's staring at you, licking his lips, collecting every drop of you. His face is full of affection and untenable arousal.

"Am I forgiven?"

You surge forward and tackle him into an uncoordinated kiss. You maneuver him around until his back is against the headboard, and you are seated comfortably in his lap. Your tongue tangled with his, the tangy sweetness of your release mingling in the dance. Pulling back, you catch his lip tugging playfully.

"Hmm… I don't know," You smirk, grabbing his neglected cock and giving it a few languid strokes. 

"Darling, please!" He begs, head falling back, exposing his neck to your greedy mouth. 

You press your mouth to the hollow of his throat and suck until you're sure there will be a noticeable mark tomorrow. "I guess you have been such a good boy." Circling your thumb over his tip, you swipe his cock through your folds, coating him in your arousal. 

"Yes, I've been so good." His voice chokes, and he clenches his jaw, desperately trying to seek more friction. Hells, he was so incredibly sexy like this.

"And I think a good boy deserves a reward. Wouldn't you agree, Star?" The rush you feel at his desperation, his neediness for you and only you, has your confidence surging. 

"Yes! Please!"

You line him up with your hole and sit down painfully slow. Two groans of pleasure join together in the room as you seat yourself to the hilt. Astarion grabs your hips in a death grip, releasing an almost painful hiss through his teeth. For a moment, you don't move; feel the stretch and the completeness he gives you. Meeting his eyes, you place your hands on his shoulders and raise on your haunches. You pull up almost off him completely before lowering at the same brutally slow pace.

"Gods, you're so tight." Astarion groans, head falling against your arm. 

He uses the grip on your hips to help set a steady pace that has both of you dissolve into a moaning, blubbering mess. You clench around him and run your hand up his neck to the back of his head, pulling him to your chest. Astarion is quick to resume lavishing your breast with messy kisses, surely littering you with bites and bruises that will linger for days to come. 

You would have loved to drag this out. Punish Astarion for hours until he was nothing but a mumbling, blushing pussy-drunk mess. But you were growing impatient, and the delicious feeling of Astarion's cock filling you was clouding your more devious thoughts. Grinding your hips down hard onto his cock had Astarion gasping into your chest. 

You cupped his jaw and captured his mouth before whispering seductively into his ear. "You've been forgiven. Now I want you to fuck me hard."

A deep groan rumbled through Astarion's chest, and he did just that. You're suddenly on your back, and his tongue is in your mouth. The slow pace was thrown out the window to a brutal pounding that tore the breath from your lungs.

"A-astarion, fuck” You roll your hips to match his pace. 

You're not going to last much longer; you don't think you've ever been more aroused, and seeing how pent-up Astarion is, having been teased along for too long. You know he's just as close. You grab his hand and pull it down your body to where you want it most. He grunts huskily in your ear and rubs harshly at your bundle of nerves. Throwing one of your legs over Astarion's hip, you adjust your body, and his thrusts find a new angle that presses against that beautiful spot inside of you. 

Astarion’s other hand, can’t seem to stay still, moving up and down your body, trying to pay equal attention to all of your soft skin. He’s squeezing your hip, tickling your side, cupping your breast, and moving back down to repeat all over again. He’s peppering kisses over your forehead and cheeks, biting your kiss-swollen lips, running his nose along yours. It’s overwhelming and not enough, but it is always with him. Astarion moves to your neck and sucks at his favorite spot, the place he feeds most frequently from, silently begging for a taste. 

"Mhm," you nod, words no longer forming on your tongue. 

Astarion's fangs pierce your skin, and the familiar icy cold floods your veins. You cry out as he greedily drinks from your body. Your blood seems to turn Astarion feral. He grabs your other leg to join the other in a link behind his back. Astarion grinds you into the mattress, brutally pumping in and out of you. All your body can do is wrap your arms around his neck, smoothing your hands over his body, and hold on. The only sounds that echo in the darkroom are the slick, obscene sounds of skin sliding against skin and needy moans and desperate whimpers. 

You can't tell if you're lightheaded because of the pleasure Astarion is giving you or the blood that he's consuming from your neck. It's probably both, but right now, you only care that he keeps going because that lovely burning heat is returning and boiling in your stomach. 

"I'm so close," you whimper.

This has Astarion finally pulling away from your neck. He looks deeply into your eyes, his pace never faltering. There's a trickle of your blood running down his chin, and you reach up to catch it. You push your thumb into his mouth, and without breaking your gaze, Astarion licks it clean. He grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours above your head. His hand somehow seems to move faster against your clit, and you are moments away from coming undone. On the ledge but seemingly hanging by your fingertips.

"S-so am I, darling." He manages to stutter out, and you pull him down for a kiss. It is desperate and needy, and the taste of your blood, sharp and metallic, mingles with his spit. "Come for me, love; let me feel you."

Those words, always commanded with such affection, had an immediate effect. You clench around him like a vice, mouth falling open in a silent gasp. You sigh his name into his mouth and cup his face with your spare hand as if the moment you come down from this high Astarion might no longer be real. 

Astarion's pace falters, and he clumsily thrusts. Once, twice, three more times before burying deep into your cunt and coming hard with a deep groan. While you're still amid your ecstasy, you are still mesmerized by Astarion coming undone before you. The way his jaw clicks shut and he squeezes his eyes closed. The tightening of his hand on your body, gripping hard enough to bruise, not that you minded. The stuttering minute juts of his hips as he rides out the last of his orgasm. And finally, watching Astarion's body turn to jelly, bones and muscles collapsing under his weight as he falls onto you, head finding your chest.

You run your hand through his curls, scratching his scalp. Astarion purrs softly and kisses your chest, running delicate fingers up your side. He catches your hand and brings it to his lips to kiss the inside of your wrist. 

Astarion rolls off of you and moves from the bed. You whine at the loss of fullness but make no other protest. A tiredness has settled deep in your bones; you don't think you could move if you wanted to. 

Thankfully, Astarion was quick to return. In his hands was a cup of water and a wet cloth. Smiling softly, you take the glass from him and take a long gulp. Handing it back, he places it on the nightstand and rejoins you in bed. Astarion delicately cleans you off, kissing your neck when you wince from oversensitivity. After that was taken care of, he discards the used cloth and pulls you to his chest, kissing the crown of your head and tightening his hold on you. You hum softly and nuzzle into his chest. 

"I am sorry," he says, fingertips drawing nonsense patterns on your back. You glance up to meet his gaze, and he pushes some of your hair out of your eyes. "I'm truly sorry I hurt you, my love. I didn't mean to." 

You give him a tender smile, "Thank you, Star," you kiss the chest just above his heart and whisper, lips brushing against his skin. "I love you."

"And I love you."

Next Day: You giggle over your glass of juice, watching a very disgruntled Astarion from across the room. His shoulders were tense, and his eyes were sharp. His bare forearms crossed over his chest. He was slouched down in his chair, looking like he would rather be anywhere else than in his current situation.

Gale was sitting in front of the vampire, a dusty tome placed on the table between him. You could barely hear the wizard's words as he vainly tried to teach Astarion a simple silencing spell. Gale was trying to help, given the very vocal display Astarion gave last night. And you couldn’t be more pleased at Astarion’s predicament. 

Astarion's ears twitch and his head snap in your direction to give you a pointed glare. He's only given more of your laughter in response.

Fine I'll admit it, I like a needy Astarion, sue me. But you got to agree that drunk Astarion would be a fucking menace.

Anyways let me know what ya thought. Talking with you guys is a highlight of my day.

Taglist: @heartfully10 @ayselluna @marina-and-the-memes @anixson @canonicalchaoticneutral @toadsbitch @meulinkitten-blog @ambr4armr

Want to be added? DM me.

[earlgreydream]

SAVIOR. | Kylo Ren x reader

Some enemies to lovers(?) on Mustafar, for my love, @little-diable

for @little-diable's 15k celebration ... Kylo Ren, Smut, Page 66 ..... „The air felt hot and dusty.” From The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires

cw: dubcon

Mustafar.

You were naive to think you could escape.

The air felt hot and dusty, choking you as you ran through burning trees. It felt like every nightmare you’d ever had — the ones you couldn’t wake up from, knowing you were prey with nowhere to run. Your heart slammed in your chest, pulse echoing in your ears as your wild eyes darted around, desperately searching for an escape.

Limbs of trees reached out to scratch you as you ran through the forest fire, everything a haze of red. Desperation to outrun those who scorched the planet made you fearful, knowing there was no real escape.

“You’ve got nowhere to run, rebel.”

The words echoed in your mind, not spoken aloud, but directly to you, through a divine power. Invisible hands halted your attempt to escape, slamming your body into the ground.

Kylo Ren watched you fight to breathe as you inhaled the dust, unable to escape the grasp of his force. He towered over you, face-to-face for the first time since Coruscant, when you were still undercover as a member of the First Order.

“Don't do this, Ren,” you hissed, staring up at the supreme leader, who had burnt down the planet and everything in it just to catch you.

“You’ll be made an example to anyone who dares to defy me,” Kylo swore, the hot blade of his lightsaber singing just inches from your throat.

Your chest heaved, wild eyes watching Kylo, waiting for his red fire to cut through you. The summer heat filled you with dread, watching Kylo stand over you with hate in his eyes.

Coruscant.

Things were different, then. What transpired only months ago seemed to be an entirely different life, lived by someone else. In a sense, it was.

Coruscant was the mission you never wanted. When you’d dedicated your life to the resistance, you didn’t anticipate being sent undercover to infiltrate the First Order. You wore the mask of an enemy, blending in and becoming someone else until you forgot who you were entirely.

The objective was simple: move your way up in the First Order, and gain the trust of Kylo Ren. Your mission was to gather intel to feed back to the resistance; when your commanders had assigned it, they pictured you sitting in meetings, taking notes on the outskirts of Kylo’s militia. At the time, the Jedi order thought they could trust you, and you thought you could trust them. Before Coruscant, you had no idea of the power you possessed, the power the rebellion kept a secret from you.

When Kylo Ren first laid eyes on you, the plan crumbled to dust. The moment you stepped into the throne room, you could feel it — the pull of the force pricking the edges. Kylo felt it too, your heart beating in sync as he failed to pry into your mind like he did with every other being.

“Leave us.” The command to the knights was sharp, the room clearing until you were the only one standing before him.

“Where have you come from?” Kylo Ren had once seemed menacing on his throne, adorned in a crimson glow. Now, his expression was pure curiosity, gazing at you with startlingly disarming eyes.

“Naboo, master Ren,” the reverence came naturally, and you found yourself lowering to your knees at his throne.

“It is an honor to serve The First Order,” your voice sounded foreign on your lips, speaking words you never intended to say.

Kylo reached forward, tilting your chin up until he held your gaze, studying every detail of your unfamiliar face. He was captivated by you, your mystique raised curiosity, not alarm. Nothing happened on his ship that he didn’t know about, but you, a young soldier from Naboo was unexpected.

“You wield the force?” He questioned, puzzled by the inability to tear apart your thoughts.

“No, master.”

“But you can, padawan, you’ve just not been taught,” Kylo answered, having no knowledge of the crack he’d sent through your alliances.

The Jedi order would have recognized the great power you possessed, even as you didn’t recognize it in yourself. Your gifts had been kept a secret, but here was Kylo Ren, a man meant to be your enemy, offering truth and guidance you were deprived of. The resistance and its leaders had deceived you, a betrayal far deeper than a political alliance. They had kept you from destiny, fearing that the ability to wield the force would lead you into darkness, having no idea you would one day learn to harness your power from the ruler of the Empire.

“I can show you the ways of the force," Kylo’s voice was smooth, pulling you to his outstretched hand, an invitation to leave everything else behind and stand at his side.

You didn't recognize yourself in the reflection of Kylo's eyes. Instinctively, you took Kylo's outstretched hand, letting him pull you to your feet.

.

"You have had no teacher?" Kylo questioned, the two of you standing in an empty room in the Star Destroyer.

He looked so different out of his suit, more relaxed in simple training robes. Here, Kylo didn't seem to be the menacing overlord that you'd once saw. With you, he was different, an attentive and guiding master.

"No," you shook your head, confliction slowly eating away at you.

The more hours you spent learning from Kylo, the less you wanted betray him. Your alliance to the order you'd spent a lifetime fighting for was broken, and now you sought solace in him. Your allegiance to Kylo bloomed as your abilities grew, and the hard walls around him slowly came down, letting you in. Even as he opened up about who he was, you kept the secret of your origin, praying every night that he didn't have to find out.

Your lost soul found a home in Coruscant, lines blurring between you and Kylo as you spent intimate hours meditating and practicing. His hands that were once your waist to position your body, guided you until you found yourself pressed between Kylo’s strong body and his mattress. 

The first time Kylo took you to his bed, he was tender, attentive to your pleasure. As your addiction to him grew, so did the constant need for one another. You begged Kylo to fuck you with his hand around your throat, bending you over the closest surface because you couldn’t get enough. Every second with Kylo was sexually charged, craving him like a drug. He was your teacher, your solace, your lover, and your savior — before you knew it, Kylo became everything to you. 

Kylo Ren changed when you entered his existence. He had never experienced a love like you, constantly starving for your touch. 

In a year, everything fell apart. 

You’d long forgotten the Jedi, your allegiance, and your mission, until the day they invaded Coruscant. What you would never be able to forget was the betrayal on Kylo's face when they called you their commander. You could no longer run to your savior, nor to your fellow jedi, so you ran away, alone, to Mustafar.

.

Mustafar.

You wrists were held behind your back with imperial binders, and you were completely naked - save the collar that Kylo had clasped around your throat. You glared up at him from your kneeling position at his feet, chest heaving as you struggled against his force keeping you still at his mercy.

Part of you yearned to throw yourself at him, begging for forgiveness, explaining to him that you had abandoned the resistance to follow him. You ached to tell him that every night you spent in bed with Kylo made you fall more in love with him, that you'd rather perish than live without him another day, but the words died in your throat.

Your words would do no use anyways - Kylo had made up his mind to make an example out of you, to humiliate you before the entire First Order.

Your skin burned as you felt the eyes of his knights on your body as they filed into the room, taking their places around the table. You couldn't hide from them, your sins and entire self exposed to those you once ruled over.

"Our little rebel traitor is going to pay for her sins," Kylo's voice was ice cold, sending a shudder down your spine.

Instinctively, you leaned back into Kylo's legs, subconsciously searching for shelter. He grabbed the back of your neck in one of his large hands, hauling you to your feet, dark eyes blazing down at you, starvation and thirst clouding his judgement.

"Get on the fucking table, now," he growled, manhandling you onto the cold metal surface, your wrists above your head as you laid spread out.

"Since you'll sell yourself to the jedi and the empire, my knights can have you as well."

He sank back into his throne, draped lazily over the armrests, legs parted to reveal how hard he was just from the sight of your nude form dripping on the table.

You strained against the binders on your wrists, hating yourself for how wet you were just knowing Kylo was watching, the knights pulling your legs apart as one knelt between your legs.

You helplessly watched Kylo as Vicrul's hands wrapped around your soft thighs, his tongue warm and wet against your sex, pulling a pathetic whine from your lips. You hated him for it - hating him for making your hips raise, begging for more as he ate you out, sucking on your clit and pushing thick fingers inside of you. Your muscles contracted around you, other knights groping your body, playing with your nipples and gagging you with their fingers.

Meanwhile, Kylo watched, freeing himself from the black trousers that hugged his thick thighs. You watched as he stroked his cock to the sight of you, fighting not to come immediately from the filthy noises the knights pried from your parted lips.

You ached for him to fill you, your cunt throbbing with need, despite the overwhelming touch of the knights, ripping orgasms from you despite how hard you fought against it. Before you could stop yourself, you were crying out to him, calling his name as your back arched off the table, gasping for air.

Your ears were ringing, and all at once the knights retreated from you, exiled from the room by Kylo. He stood abruptly, dark robes falling from his shoulders, his strong body fully on display for you. You felt the binders release your wrists, and you pulled your limbs to your body, trembling on the cold table.

"I didn't betray you," you rasped, knowing Kylo could read your mind, prying through your thoughts and your memories, allowing him in.

He said nothing, approaching you slowly. Kylo grasped your jaw, holding your head up, forcing you to look him in the eye.

"You will never run from me again."

"Yes, master."

Kylo's lips were hot and heavy against yours, pulling you into his body, kissing you violently. He'd had every intention to take you back to his chambers, but the second you touched, he couldn't resist, climbing over you on the table in his throne room.

His hand hooked under your knee, pushing it to your shoulder, rubbing the head of his cock against your entrance. He ignored your whimpering pleas, taking his time, marking your throat with his lips. All the air left your lungs as he finally pushed inside you, much bigger than all of the knights who had violated you only moments before.

Your back arched as he split you open, pressing your chest to his, your hands pulling his thick black hair. He bottomed out, his hips pressed against your ass. Kylo hushed you, wrapping an arm around your torso before fucking you at a blistering pace. It was desperate and violent with need, tearing you apart for leaving him, and putting you back together all at once. You felt his velvety skin drag against your walls with every thrust, Kylo using the force to circle your clit so he could keep both hands on you.

His skin was slick with sweat, black hair sticking to his forehead as he moaned, biting your shoulder and burying his face in you, his thrusts stuttering as he filled you until cum was spilling out and smearing between your thighs.

"I'm not finished with you," he panted as you sank back into the surface, trying to catch your breath.

Kylo flipped you over so he was lying on his back, your knees on either side of his wide hips. You could barely hold yourself up, muscles shaking as you leaned over him.

"Kylo, I can't—"

"Ride me." He commanded, leaving no room for argument or protest.

He reached up and wrapped his hand around your throat, holding you up as you rolled your hips, feeling his cock twitch inside you, moving easily despite your trembling thighs.

"Look at me. Watch yourself take your master," Kylo's other hand lightly smacked your cheek, prompting you to open your eyes, holding his gaze for a long moment.

You wrapped your hands around his wrist for leverage, thankful his other hand was helping your hips, before obeying his wish. Your gaze fell, watching him disappear inside your body every time you sank down, feeling him set fire to every nerve ending in your body, your limbs screaming for release. Kylo held your weight, guiding you to finish until you collapsed on his chest, aftershocks shuddering through your weakened body.

"You'll have to earn back your place at my side," he tilted your chin up, dark eyes showing the slightest bit of mercy.

"I'll do anything," you breathed, chasing his mouth for a kiss.

"Start by getting on your knees."

[ofjunemoment]

getting even | lee haechan (P1)

synopsis —  Haechan is notorious for his pranks. Who can forget about the one time the campus fountain was bleeding red? You were weary of never getting on his wrong side, but when you get to know him better, it seems like behind all that front he's a sweet and caring guy. That is until you get a bucket of water dunked on you straight after he promised he wouldn't pull something on you. You're not only pissed that he had fooled you like this, but that he chose such a simple prank.

pairing - haechan x fem!reader

genre - university!au, (one-sided) enemies, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, very slice of life, eventual smut (MDNI)

Wc - 11.6k

content - clubbing scene, reader is drunk at one point, random idols mentioned, university settings

warnings: mentions of throwing up (nothing too detailed)

a/n - hi lovelies <3 heres the first part to getting even!!! while i was writing the story i noticed it was getting very long (and i still have like... five more scenes to write lol) so i thought of getting this out first ^^ not a lot happens here but stay tuned for the next part because.. a lot.. happens there hehe. i hope you enjoy readingggg!!

Walking into your lecture, your eyes scan around to find an empty spot to occupy, but you were pleasantly surprised to see your friend Naeun sitting in one corner, leaning back as she scrolls through her phone. She beams when she sees you, patting the seat next to hers.

“Fancy seeing you here,” You plop down your bag next to your chair, teasing her from the get-go. She whines shyly at your callout.

“I was struck with academic motivation never felt before. It felt like I was destined to come in today and be as studious as possible,” She points towards the lecture, which is barely filled with students. It’s a nine a.m. lecture, but you decided to come in early today to snag a good seat that lets your focus on the lecture with your upcoming assignment that's due; Naeun on the other hand barely comes in after the first two weeks of the semester, regardless of what time the lecture is. If it’s not mandatory, why go?

Her motto is what makes you raise your eyebrow at her now, scanning her figure as if to fish out the real reason why she’s here.

“Don’t look at me like that! I actually came in to study today,” you raise your hands in self-defence, looking away from her with a giggle, opting to stop teasing her.

But not even a minute later, she cracks; “Okay, fine. If you keep insisting me to tell you I guess I have no choice,”

“But I didn’t even—”

“I heard from Haneul who heard from Heejin’s girlfriend who was at that book club meeting with Renjun, which for some reason thought Norwegian Wood the book didn’t match the song, which is such a hot take that only he would take. Anyways,” She crosses her leg over her knee, leaning in as if to tell you a secret, manicured hands cupping the side of her face.

“Haechan might pull something today, at this lecture.” You barely caught her words, but after a few seconds of taking in what she said, you lean back and look at her with wide eyes.

“Haechan? I thought he was finished?” Naeun nods her head at lightning speed, her expression matching yours too.

“See, that’s what I thought too, but apparently he only had some sort of weird writer's block but for his pranks. I think he missed all the attention he used to get, not that he’s any less popular now, but you know what I mean,” You, in fact, have no idea what she means. But with the new information that you’re now fed, you’re hyperaware of your surroundings, looking around for any abnormalities within your vicinity.

Ever since the orientation of the first year of your course, when you met Naeun and had to fight against falling asleep with all the alcohol the seniors were feeding you as a sort of welcoming ritual, Haechan had already made a solid impression on everyone. With the seniors pushing all the first-year students to drink, Haechan had gotten into a bit of trouble for refusing to drink something they’ve poured out for him, as the older guys go around with mindless gossiping, stating how much of a prune he is and that he’s just ruining the fun, all while they stick around girls who are out of their league.

Later that day, Haechan had made a few drinks for the few who he had angered as a form of apology. With his head bowed in tow, he honestly looked like he was asking for their forgiveness.

“It was careless of me to disrespect my seniors so blatantly like this, could you accept these as an apology? I’ll even pour out the soju for you.” With the bottle in his hand, his other hand cradled his elbow, showing respect as he barely met their eyes. The seniors were ready to make him work for it more, but with the way he was bowed in front of everyone in the hall, it looked like they were picking on the poor boy.

“Ah, Haechan, you don’t have to do that.” One of them chuckles. “We were just joking aroun—”

“Please! Just accept this, I don’t know how I can last the rest of my uni years knowing that I had disrespected you on my very first day.” He shouts in his high-pitched voice, making the already quiet hall of murmuring people all go silent. The seniors were now all flustered, before being ushered to take the cups Haechan had provided, waiting for him to pour them drinks.

From the corner of the table, you were slumped against, you remember two things very vividly that night; one, Naeun was an only child, which we can definitely work with. And two, when Haechan looked up at the second and third years of his major accepting his drinks, his grateful smile was laced with some sort of sinister glint.

As the seniors grumble in embarrassment while Haechan finishes pouring each one of them a drink, they swish their cups around as if it’s wine, delaying drinking from them while Haechan insists on signifying their bond with a toast.

“To my seniors, I hope to perform up to your expectations,” And with the tip of their cups in an imaginary circle, everyone cheered ‘one-shot’ as the seniors down their drinks. Haechan merely sipped his, and you had noticed his lips tilting to one corner, and even in your drunk state, you knew something was off.

Your suspicions were confirmed when the seniors all started coughing wildly, some clutching the corner of a table or one anothers’ shoulders, seeming like they were coughing their lungs out.

Turns out that Haechan had slipped hot sauce into the drinks, creating a fusion of different burning sensations to travel down their throats as they drink the alcohol in one shot. Instead of being chastised, he was cheered on by the other first years who were either tipsy or barely hanging on. Ever since then, he was known to pull pranks every now and then, most harmless, some embarrassing, but nothing serious and nothing to spite anyone. Like tampering with clocks in the lecture halls, making them chime a tune every ten minutes, or when he had swapped his blonde friend Jeno’s shampoo with a firetruck red dye, leaving his neck and the better part of his forehead red from the dye for days on end. The only prank done with motivation was the first one as if it was some sort of initiation in itself.

“Wait, at this lecture? But there’s barely anyone here. Doesn’t Haechan carry out his pranks with a full-blown audience at tow?” Naeun shushes at your words, trying to get you to quiet down with your words, but it was too late. The deed was done as the guy from behind you perks up at your conversation, leaning into your conversation bubble.

You recognise him as Sunwoo, as he quickly shifts his gaze between the two of you. “Haechan’s doing something today? Like, at this lecture?”

“Oh.. well, I wouldn’t say so,”

“Naeun,” He turns to your friend, and you look at her with doom written on both of your faces. Naeun can’t lie to save her life, most people know that by now, but never really have the balls to test the theory. Until now, of course.

“Naeun, is Haechan gonna pull a prank today?”

“Naeun, remember what we talked about restraint.” You tried to keep her attention on you, knowing that if her gaze wandered to the boy, she would break.

“Come on Naeun,” Sunwoo whines now, stomping his feet, making you look at him with disgust written on your face at his sudden burst of cuteness. “Just say yes or no. Ywes or nwo.”

“Dude, gross,” You shove at his shoulder in an attempt to finally relent. Naeun squeezes her eyes shut.

“Pwetty pwease?”

“Fine! Fuck, oh my god. Yes, he is, Haechan is maybe doing something today.” She leans back into her chair, chest heaving as if she’d run a marathon. “I hated that, please don’t ever do that again.” Sunwoo winks at you two as he suddenly stands straight in his seat.

With hands cupped around his mouth, he shouts out. “Hey everyone! Haechan is pulling a prank today! Tell all your friends to be careful, and to keep their cameras rolling! Remember to post it on the campus’ blog!” And with that, phones chime as people text and call the imminent news. You and Naeun look at each other, defeated.

“At least they don’t know that we spread it?” You try, shoulders now hunched in as Naeun rubs at her temples.

“Oh! Also, it was these two who told me, so you should thank them!” Sunwoo yells one last time as he points at the two of you, with some hoots and cheers now being sent your way. You two shrink into yourselves even more.

“Haneul is never gonna invite me out for bubble tea ever again,”

As the lecture hall fills up to its max capacity, everyone is on the edge of their seat, waiting for something to happen. The star of the show himself is nowhere to be seen, but his friends are huddled in their usual corner, trying their best to smile kindly and repeat on about how they ‘don’t know what Haechan is up to. Can I send him a text to see where he is? Why are you telling me what to do—’. Thankfully Jeno was able to stop Renjun from pouncing anyone, even though they both knew nothing would’ve happened.

The lecturer seems over the moon to have the hall filled as much as it is, excitedly explaining statistics and their significance in the current world. She doesn’t seem to notice that the majority are here for some sort of public performance and not the different ways you can find the probability of whatever it is she’s droning on about. You try your best to nod when she looks towards your general direction.

As the lecture ends, people grow restless with the lack of action in the last two hours. But no one had dared to step out of the hall, much less out of their seats in fear of something happening. But when the lecturer thanks everyone for joining her this week and talks about gratitude, people slump into their chairs, grumbling and huffing about their time being wasted. Everyone starts packing straight away, slowly maneuvering to the exit as they cook up theories about why Haechan had gone so long without a prank, and how the word got spread in the first place. You and Naeun sit static in your chairs, not wanting to attract any attention, alongside Haechan’s friends, who merely go on their phones and twirl their pens.

“Do you think this will come back to bite us in our ass?” You’re careful to whisper this time, shoving your laptop into your bag and Naeun clicks her pens closed. She merely shrugs, “I don’t think they even know our names, so I think we should be fine.” You look at the lecturer, who seems to be skipping her way to the exit now, undoubtedly feeling ecstatic at doing her job. As she opens the door and steps to the hall, you last see her beaming smile before a screech echoes out, making everyone stop in their tracks.

The people who were the closest to her are now looking at the ground where she lies, bags and items now askew across the floor outside of the hall. A few step up and help her get up by grasping her wrists, pulling when she seems to have found their bearings. But their effort ends fruitless, as not only does she stay on the floor, but the two people who had helped her also collapse again on the floor.

“What the fuck…” As people go to help their friends and the lecturer from the floor, the three figures on the floor attempt to skid back into the lecture room instead of out. A guy you recognise as Beomgyu looks out onto the hallway outside the lecture hall, before pressing the tip of his shoe against the floor as if to test something. When he pressed his sole against the floor, he tries shifting left and right before pressing his other foot on the floor, rebalancing himself when he’s tilted a bit to the left. You see him squat down and take a big whiff, face confused as he stands back up, but not for long.

Smiling like a radiating child, his laugh echoes throughout the hall as he pulls on his friend Jeongin’s hand to join him. “The floor is covered with butter!”

At that, the once quiet hall grows loud, as people slowly step onto the floor, while some treat it like a skating rink, gliding and spinning right outside the lecture hall.

“The whole floor with butter? When did he have the time to do that?” You question as you now stand with your bag slung over your shoulder. Jeno, who was walking past you with Renjun, turns back to you. “He did it while the lecture was going on. If you can’t handle skidding on the floor, you might wanna use the other door,” And with a blinding smile, he turns back around and heads out the alternative door.

Naeun clutched at your bicep. “Did he talk to us right now? Like, look at us in the eye and speak words?”

You nod your head. “I think you can put your delusional days to an end. He totally likes you,” She smacks your hand as you tease her, but huddles closer nevertheless.

“I am, for once, thankful that you just speak words without thinking,”

You’re tugging at the waist of your skirt as Naeun pulls you by your locked elbows, shoes clicking towards the direction of the club. The Beehive club is known to harbour students of all majors from your university, as it is the closest club to the dorms situated just a five-minute walk away from campus, making socialising as easy as it can get. Naeun had urged for you two to go this week, even when you’d rather rest after giving in the assignment that you were slaving over for the past few days. She insisted that it would be worth this time.

“Haechan finally put a cease in his hiatus. That means he will be at the party, which means Jeno will be at the party, which means I need to make my presence known and somehow rizz him by sending him brainwaves.” She had explained while getting ready, as she blows on her false lashes before putting them on. You sulk from your position in bed, slowly trying to hype yourself up to get ready.

“You’re not even gonna talk to him? What’s the point then?” Naeun groans at that.

“You know that if I open my mouth around him I’ll pee myself. Come on, and you deserve to have some fun after all that hard work,” And so half a bottle of soju and an hour later, you find yourself covering one of your ears as you descend the stairs to the Beehive club. You feel the bass of the song travel up your legs as you enter the club, and are offered free drink coupons. It’s when you’re squeezing a lemon slice into your mouth at the bar that you feel a hand tap against your shoulder. You turn to see Haneul, a grin gleaming even in the dark of the club as she squeals and pulls both you and Naeun into a hug.

“My favourite girls, how have you been?” She shouts against the booming music against your ears, to which you give her a thumbs up while Naeun further squeezes herself against Haneul's figure in excitement, the alcohol already making her feel giddier. She pulls you towards the dance floor, muttering about how she has a VIP booth that someone had offered her, and leads the way. Plopping down, Haneul gestures for staff before saying something into his ear, before giving a wink and pointing at the VIP booth you’re settled at.

As you three start conversing, the staff comes back with more drinks, and Haneul encourages you to drink, assuring you that it’s attached to the tab of the booth. “Some guy called Jay has this booth under his name, and he said to put any drinks I wanted on the tab,” You toast your free drinks against one another, the clink of the glasses barely audible as you each take a sip. Haneul shares the anecdotes and stories that have while she was away on vacation, while you and Naeun nod and react accordingly, slipping in your commentaries at the climax of her stories.

“What about you two? Any news recently?” She takes a sip from her straw as she says this, glancing between the two of you excitedly. You and Naeun share a sheepish glance, knowing neither of you has anything as exciting to share.

“Oh come on, what have you been doing these days?”

“Just work,” Naeun frowns as she says this.

“And school,” You follow up.

“You’re right, and school. And then work again,”

“And scho—”

“You guys are miserable,” Haneul scoffs jokingly. She reaches for the bottle of champagne that's sitting in the ice bucket, grabbing two clean glasses. “Here, have more drinks so you can have something exciting to tell me later on,” Although mixing your drinks is never good, the loud music and the flashing lights encourage you to drink more, and your body craves to let loose.

Two glasses and a twenty-minute dance break later, you’re at a corner of the club huddling near each other. Naeun had caught a glimpse of Jeno at the bar, and the alcohol in her system removed all brain-to-mouth filters she had.

“He’s so—” She cups her face as she hiccups. “So fine. So so fine. You know, when we were at our lecture… the other day with Haechan’s …comeback or, fuck, butter floor, he spoke to us,” Her warm eyes fluttered as she thought back to that moment. “Jeno said real words, in real life and my ear heard them. I think he looked at me too, what the fuck?” She grabs her forehead as if taking the information in for the first time before she presses her head against your shoulder.

“She’s not being delusional, he did speak to us,” You nod your head at Haneul as she shoots you a questioning look, with Naeun clinging onto you harder. “He even helped us go out through the back door so we don’t end up all oily with the butter rink.” Naeun snorts, which catches all of you off guard and even herself, her eyes opening and locking onto something in the middle of the dance floor. Her gaze suddenly shifts, and before you know it she’s shoving her way through the crowd and heading towards her target.

“What is she—? Oh no, fuck,” You gasp while Haneul’s mouth hangs open when you both see Naeun heading toward Jeno, who’s dancing with someone at the moment, at full speed.

Haneul looks at you with contemplation. “I mean… it could turn out for the better?” She tries.

“Or she would wake up embarrassed as fuck for the next week or so,” You contemplate with her. Naeun is never the type to be aggressive, even when she's drunk. The most she’s done once was point a finger at you while she was angry and then look away to calm herself down.

But before you could relax back into your corner, you see her reach up for her earrings.

“Okay, fuck. Take this, I’ll be back,” Shoving your drink in Haneul’s hand, you make your way through the crowd and towards Naeun, rushing before she reaches her imminent doom. Jeno and his dancing partner are oblivious to the devil baby that Naeun takes the form of at the moment, which gives you hope that embarrassment can be evaded.

But then she full-body slams into Haechan.

“Woah,” He places his free hand on her shoulder, stopping her from tipping all the way to the right and losing her balance. The cup in his other hand now seems to be empty as its contents drip from both of their bodies, but Naeun is too drunk to notice and Haechan seems to have barely processed anything, seemingly working on autopilot at this point. You catch Naeun by the waist, your other hand going to her arm and slinging it around your shoulder to ground her, inspecting the mess she made. Your expression is apologetic when you make eye contact with Haechan, but he merely purses his lips and gestures putting Naeun’s other arm around himself for more support.

You mouth a ‘thank you’ and heave her body outside of the dance floor and towards the booth Haneul had brought you to earlier. Placing her on the couch, she slumps down and immediately whines when her hand makes contact with her torso on the descent.

“I’m all sticky now…” Her eyes are barely open as she says this, as the bass of the music dwindles in the semi-confines of the booth.

“That makes the two of us,” As Haechan says this, your eyes glance over his figure to see his once white button-up is now tinted blue and sticking to his body, outlining the faintest of lines in the dark of the club. You advert your eyes, not wanting to be caught gawking at him like a man in the Victorian era.

“I’m so sorry, thank you for helping,” You bite your lip momentarily, feeling mortified for ruining his shirt. He merely waves you off, “Don’t worry. I’m not too fussed about it,” His hand is placed at his hip as he says this, but his free hand gestures at your intoxicated friend. “But she seems to be the most bothered out of all of us,”

As if on cue, Naeun whines from her slumped position on the couches, shifting left and right in an attempt to gain some leverage into standing up, only to slip back down. She calls for your name and then squints at Haechan as if trying to remember his.

“Naeun, let’s call it a night, yeah?” You try telling her and you look around to find her bag that she’s left. She protests like a child in a grocery store, huffing as she droops further onto the couch, her cheek now pressed against the cushions.

“No, not until I bag the class clown's hot friend.” Your eyes widen as you feel your cheeks grow hot, trying your best to not glance over at Haechan and somewhat blow Naeun’s cover. You reach over and pat her cheeks lightly in a warning.

“Naeun, you’re blabbering nonsense now. Come on, let’s get going.”

“I’m not! I’m talking about Jeno, not nonsense. Haechan’s super hot friend Jeno,” Your whole body does a reset as she says this, shoulders going stiff while Naeun is oblivious to everything. She opens her eyes and locks them on something behind you, now pointing her finger and smiling giddily.

“Oh! Look, Haechan is here! Hey, do you think if I ask reallyyy nicely he’ll—” Her next words are muffled by your hand and a forced laugh. You cast a look at Haechan to see him trying and failing to contain a smile, as his hand pushes at the corner of his mouth. Upon making eye contact with you he quickly looks away and tries to retain himself from laughing. You sigh as you think about the number of things you’d have to run down to sober Naeun tomorrow about drunk Naeun’s antics right now. Gathering both of your things and shrugging your jacket on your friend, you quickly grab a tissue paper from the table and the eyeliner pen from Naeun’s bag, scribbling down your phone number.

Once Haechan has regained his composure, he’s met with your hand extended towards him holding a napkin. He picks it up from your hand as you wave it a bit impatiently before you quickly go to shoulder your friend up.

“This is my number, send me your details and I’ll cover for your shirt and the drink,” You grunt as you adjust Naeun’s deadweight before she gets the memo and tries standing on her two feet. “Thank you again for helping, uh, please ignore everything she just said. I know it’ll be a good payback prank but—”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Haechan’s chuckle resounds deep even in the loud bass of the club. “I wouldn’t pull anything on her for this.” He comes to Naeun’s opposite side, grabbing her arm and throwing it over his shoulder, heading towards the exit of the club without casting a glance back at you. You fumble with your belongings before quickly catching up, heels clicking as you ascend the stairs, your hands hovering around Naeun’s general direction, in fear that she’ll decide to fling herself off Haechan’s grip in an attempt of brushing her drunkenness off.

Outside of the club, cars whizz by the busy streets as people go for second and third rounds of drinks at this time of the night. Haechan lets Naeun sink into the ground as the latter pulls her weight, and you scramble towards her on the floor.

“Are you gonna hurl?” You ask. She hiccups.

“No,” And that’s all you needed to hear. Standing up, you fish out your phone and decide to call a cab back to your dorms, not wanting to carry your friend in the ten-minute walk back.

“Hey,” Haechan calls and you had momentarily forgotten that he was still here. You look up to see him scratching at his neck, mulling over his next words. “Uh, if you’d like, I didn’t drink anything and— I mean I was going to but then your friend just… What I’m saying is that I can drop you off?” The alcohol swimming in your brain may be playing with you, but you think you see a dust of pink settle into the boy’s cheek and neck.

“I mean, you’re Haneul’s friends, right? I remember you were her roommate at the dorms last year, so if you still live there I can drop you off,” He straightened his shoulder as he said this, now looking more confident about his offer.

You shift your weight, as you now actually get to take a good look at him. Under the club's dark and strobing lights, you could barely see his features far past his white button-up shirt and the light reflecting in his eyes. The street light illuminates the figure in front of you fully, allowing you to see the blue stain in his shirt, but also the tight fit of his jeans and the veins adorning his arms as he pushes up his sleeves at his elbows.

“Oh, thanks. But we should be okay. I’m sorry for the trouble.” You’re a bit flustered as you say this, your eyes flickering from his forearms to his face, not wanting to come off rude but also not being able to contain your monkey-sex brain from forming thoughts. You’re salivating over forearms.

“Okay…wait. Here,” He fishes out his phone from his pocket, typing in the phone number that you handed to him earlier in the night, calling you briefly. “Give me a text when you arrive home or if you need any help with warding off any weirdos.” You feel your stomach warm at his gesture, punching your name into his phone when he gives it to you. When you give it back to him, he mouths your name, before smiling at you.

“Will you be alright going alone?” He says as he helps you bring Naeun to a stand, the latter squeezing her eyes open and trying to regain balance and focus.

“Yup,” You pop, fixing your friend's bag on her shoulder. “She said she wasn’t gonna throw up, which means I have around twenty minutes until she changes her mind. She’s always the most self-aware pre-vom, so the walk back should be okay,” You don’t know why you’re reassuring him from getting kidnapped on your way back, but it feels nice to have someone care for your safety like this. Naeun starts marching away once you face her in the direction of your unit, and with a last wave goodbye, you turn your back to Haechan and the club.

[FRIDAY; 1:26 AM]

you: hii im home now

haechan: thats good

haechan: did she thrw up yet??

you: nah not yet

you: but we’re getting there you: t-minus three secs

haechan: remember to drink water b4 u sleep

you: okayy thank u for today :)

Telling Naeun how she almost embarrassed herself wasn’t as dreadful when she was fighting a hangover. She seemed to be more concerned about her water intake than almost causing a scene with Jeno at the club, complaining about the dryness of her skin.

“I can’t believe you let me go to sleep without telling me to wash my make-up off,” She says this as she adds her expensive serum to her face, grabbing a guasha tool and pressing the cool instrument against her temples, completely disregarding its original use. You continue brushing your teeth next to her against the sink, unable to reply with the foam in your mouth.

“You passed out on the toilet after throwing up, I almost threw up myself trying to bring you to your bed,” You say as you spit out your toothpaste.

“Wait, then how did I not cause a scene?”

“Haechan stopped you,” You reply seamlessly, drying your hands on the hand towel, oblivious to the bewildered stare Naeun throws your way.

“Haechan? Like, Jeno’s friend Haechan? The guy who put red food dye in the campus’ water which made everyone's mouth red?” You remember the initial shock of walking by the water fountain the day he did this, the blood red of the water being a stark contrast to the gloomy winter weather last year.

“Yeah, you even spilled his drink on him and everything.” You giggle at the groan that she lets out, covering her face with her hands.

“Oh my god, he’s gonna now plant a hidden alarm in my room like he did to this other guy in the dorm, or put plastic cockroaches in everything I own. I can’t believe I did that, was his shirt white?”

“Not after you spilt his neon blue drink,” You egg on even more. “But don’t worry, he said he won’t pull anything on you.” At that, her shoulders slump down in relief, as she leans against the doorframe of the bathroom.

“I’m safe,” She cheers, heading to the kitchen like nothing had happened. But being the drama queen that she is, she quickly turns to look back at you with a sharp gasp. “But you aren’t!”

You roll your eyes at her dramatics. “What do you mean? Why would I not be safe?” You disregard her sceptics as you pass by her and into the kitchen, opening the fridge to look for something to eat.

“He said that he wouldn’t do anything to me, but he didn’t say anything about you.” For someone whos nursing a hangover, it’s alarming to see her raise her voice and move as swiftly as she does around you, trying to get you as panicked as she is about her made-up scenario. “He can glitter bomb your bag, or hack your laptop so that whenever you have an assignment it doesn’t go through until a few seconds after it's due, or—” You cut your friend off by stuffing cereal in her mouth, stopping her mid-rant.

“Why would he do that to me? You have to know he only did those to relevant or well-known people, like Somi or Sunghoon. He wouldn’t do some grand prank on someone like me.” You turn to pour your chosen cereal into a bowl. “And if you say anything else, just know I’m ignoring you.”

“But—”

“I’m ignoring you,”

“You can’t do this to m—”

“Ignoring youuuu,”

You don’t hear of or see Haechan until Wednesday, when you’re walking to your second class of the day from the library.

Adjusting your items in your bag, you wouldn’t have noticed his presence at all until he had cleared his throat and brushed his shoulder lightly against yours.

“Oh,” Your eyes widen by reflex, taken aback by his sudden approach before they soften again at the smile adorning his face. “Hi,”

“Hey, you heading to class?” He small talks, and maybe you should spend less time with your roommate, because what should be a simple interaction between you and one of your peers is putting you on edge. Even when you had ignored Naeun’s dramatics about you being dunked on by the boy before you, you can’t deny the jittery feeling coursing through your body, as if your body is gearing in to go into fight-or-flight mode.

Not wanting to come off rude, you hum an agreement and attempt to cast a friendly glance at him, which doesn’t last long as you see him looking back at you.

“Did you, uh, have fun?” You attempt at making small talk, but Haechan looks at you quizically at your lack of context. “At the club, that night. Sorry for interrupting your night and ruining your shirt.” You can’t help but circle back, feeling apologetic when you recall the massive blue stain you had left him in.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. I hated that shirt anyway,” You gape at him as he says this, but quickly close your mouth shut and roll your eyes when you see the teasing glint flashing in his eyes. “And don’t worry about the prank thing too, I wouldn’t think about pranking a pretty girl like you,” You flush momentarily, but remember that you’re talking to ‘the biggest flirt on campus’. Haenul’s words, not yours.

“Good to know,” You egg him on, feeling your shoulders slump down as you grow more relaxed in his company. His jovial manner eases your thoughts of him coming after you, as his presence in front of you proves that he’s merely another student on your campus, trying to have fun and get by with crippling student debt.

Small talking a bit more as you head towards your tutorial, you revel in the drama he tells you that has occurred after you had left the club, remembering to list down the details to recall back to Naeun when you see her later. It’s when you’re at the door of your classroom when Haechan’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

“I have a call to take, but I’ll see you around?” He looks at you with a friendly smile, and it takes everything in you not to melt right there. You can see why some of the girls in your year are fond of him.

Waving him goodbye, you wait until he turns a corner before you go towards your class. You’re just a few minutes late, which explains why you’re met with the nearly closed door of the classroom. Readily, you grip the handle and creak open the door, eyes ready to scan around the room for a vacant spot for you to sit at. But before you could comprehend much, you’re suddenly soaked cold.

Turns out, there was a bucket of water placed on the top of the door, which explains why there was a slight gap instead of the door being closed like it usually is when your tutorial begins. No one in the class had a clue of why the bucket was there or thought to dismantle the bucket, not wanting to mess with the inevitable of something occurring. The door you had entered from wasn’t a main door to the room either, but instead, a back door that barely anyone used, so they were all equally shocked when you had chosen to walk through the obscure entry. Oblivious to the minute signs, you walked right into the classroom and were immediately met with water and a few cubes of ice.

You convey all of this to Naeun when she sees you damper than normal at the campus cafe, where you two usually meet during your free periods; you’re usually dryer than this, so it wasn’t hard for her to realise. She laughs, because is she truly Naeun if she doesn’t laugh at your demise, but then she falls silent, brows now furrowed.

You look at her in question. “Why do you look like you’re a shiver away? I’m the one who’s soaked.”

“Oh my god, Haechan did this to you,” She completely ignores your words, making her point with theatre-level dramatics.

You wave your hand at her, disregarding her theory. “He couldn’t have. He was walking with me when I was headed to class.”

“Exactly!” She exclaims, the hot coffee sloshing around in her cup as she almost jumps out of her seat. You flinch at the handling of the hot drink. “He walked with you to distract you from the fact that he’s gonna pull something. He must’ve set it up before and came around to slow you down. I mean come on,” She slams her cup down on the saucer. “A phone call right when you reach your class? Isn’t that too obvious?” And you hate to admit it, but Naeun does have a point. The main topic of your conversation was about him not pulling anything on you, only for you to walk into his trap just a few minutes later.

“Oh my god,” You slouch against the booth seat of the cafe, the information slowly settling in. “But—”

“Why you?”

“Why that prank?”

Now it’s Naeun’s turn to look at you quizically. “What?”

You feel incredulous now, heat building up inside you. “A fucking bucket of water? That’s it? Is that all he could think of; he’s the same person who filled a whole lecture room with ping-pong balls and tied his roommate's bed to the door with rope. Why was my prank so low-effort?” Naeun now realises the anger budding within you, as she looks around the cafe when your voice raises slightly. She splays her hands out in front of you in a lieu to calm you down, but you’re too warped in your fury to acknowledge her attempts.

“Water? Water? With like, four cubes of ice, and that’s it. Is that all I’m worth? He couldn’t put a glitter bomb in every second purse of mine, or change my ex’s contact name to yours, or anything.” You down your drink quickly, feeling too worked up to be cooped in the booth of the cafe. Naeun follows after, quickly gathering her things and putting her laptop and pens in her bag. You would feel bad for cutting your study session short, but she was barely studying, so the guilt dwindles just a bit. The anger overpowers it by a margin.

“Hey, what are you— don’t go and do something stupid.” Naeun tries as she loops her arm with yours.

You sigh when she squeezes your bicep, feeling the heat inside you cool down just a bit. “I’m not gonna do anything. If anything, if I act like it affected me and lash out at him, it would be exactly what he wants.”

“So you’re gonna act like nothing happened?” You nod your head with hesitation.

“Well, something along the lines,”

It is no surprise that Haechan thrives on attention. That’s the sole reason why he continues with these pranks, and it doesn’t take a psychology major to figure this one out. You did think about pulling something back on him, maybe like pantsing him in the middle of campus or putting some hair removal cream in his shampoo so he thinks he’s slowly balding, but even with how embarrassing and risky they are —you don’t want to leave a huge impact on him, just ruffling his feathers a bit, you know he’ll revel in the attention regardless. So you go for the next best thing.

Ignoring him.

It was a good idea when you and Naeun were walking and passed by his group of friends, who exchanged some pleasantries with you, your friend barely holding it together at Jeno’s eye smile. You held eye contact and waved at Renjun and Jeno, but barely spared a glance towards Haechan’s direction, and when you finally did, you just gave him a blank stare.

You think it worked when you saw the corner of his lip slip down from the smile he was sporting, and you almost felt bad for acting so cold to someone who didn’t do anything. Then you remind yourself that he did, in fact, do something. You thought it would be enough to do this just a few more times when you see him in the next few months of the semester, and you barely see him so it shouldn’t be too hard. But it’s like fate has a personal vendetta against you, because ever since that fateful night, you see him everywhere.

You barely remember him coming into the campus library, let alone the quiet corner that you huddle yourself in to get your grind on. So it’s safe to say that you were shocked when you feel a tap on your shoulder only to look up and see Haechan looming over you, a shy smile sporting his face at the prospect of reaching out to you.

“Hey,” He greets, his hand tugging at his earlobe as if shy. He looks at the seat opposite yours, as if wanting to sit there. You feel shame burn inside you when you don’t go to offer the seat, but you attempt to dwindle it when you remind yourself that you had to sit soaked throughout the entire class because participation is mandatory for your grades.

“How was your class the other day,” Your grip on your pen tightens as he says this, and you’re sure that the tilt in the corner of his mouth is to keep himself from laughing at you straight to your face. But you don’t give in, and instead nod your head with your eyebrows slightly raised, as if exasperated.

“It was okay,” You can only keep your replies short instead of ignoring him by keeping silent. His lingering form by your table and your avoidant gaze is already fueling the awkward air surrounding you, but you’re not giving in until he does.

And it seems like he’s not backing out anytime soon. “ Oh, I heard from Haneul that you’re planning on picking up cross-cultural management next session? I took that course last year so if you wanted some notes I can send them to you,” Fuck. How is he so good at this? His words make you think about your initial assumptions, and looking at his face, he does seem genuine about his offer, the tips of his ears now growing pink.

You soften a bit, ready to apologise to him for being overstrung, but then his gaze goes to something behind you, and now he covers his mouth with his palm as if stopping himself from bursting with laughter.

Confused, you turn around to see what was so hilarious for him to shift his demeanour so suddenly, only to be met with his friends, Jeno and Renjun, who go cartoonishly still at your attention. Of course, all of this is a running joke for him; sweetening up to you after the incident just so he can prove that no one can resist him.

Scoffing, you shut your laptop and gather your things, ignoring Haechan’s noise of surprise with your sudden movement, shoving everything in your bag and shouldering it. “I have to head out now, forgot that Naeun wanted to meet me before her class.” You make up an excuse as you look at your phone for the time. Naeun is taking a diligent afternoon nap at this very moment back in your dorm, completely oblivious to the trials you’re facing; but he doesn’t need to know your every move.

You almost slip out a ‘sorry’ as a reflex, but one glance back at the shocked faces of both Haechan and his subordinates brings you back, as you merely give him a tight smile before brushing past him.

“Oka— I’ll see you around!” Your shoulder bunches up at his volume as you hastily make your way out of his presence and the building.

Stepping into the radio broadcasting club room, you greet everyone present, apologising for being late.

“I got caught up on the way,” You take a seat at the table, putting your bag on the ground. Naeun, whos seated next to you, taps repeatedly at your bicep as a greeting, squealing away from you when you attempt to deliver a pinch to her skin.

“Did you get another bucket of water dunked on you?” Your senior Yubin comments, making everyone in the room laugh. You deliver a strained chuckle as Naeun casts a worried glance at you, but you wave her concern away

“Yubin’s just kidding, you’re not late either, we just sent Minseok to pick up the pizza boxes. Then after we’re done eating we can start brainstorming for the university mini carnival event.” Sohee softly informs, looking up from her clipboard to give you a kind smile.

“If anything, Jihoon’s the person we have to chastise. He texted saying he’ll be here in five minutes fifteen minutes ago.” Juyeon huffs at his phone screen.

As if on cue, the door opens and in comes Jihoon, but he isn’t alone.

“Sorry for coming in late, but look what I found along the way. Isn’t he so cute?” He coos at Haechan who stands beside him, looking at his friend incredulously, mockingly raising his hand. Ignoring Haechan’s disdain for his words, he pinches at his cheeks as he looks towards Yubin and Sohee. “Can we keep him? I always wanted a pet bear,”  

Naeun leans in towards you. “He’s more of a cocaine bear than a pet.” You smack at her as she whispers this to you, reminding her of restraint. “You’re not the best at whispering, babe” You tease. “Keep your tone down if you also don’t wanna get dunked on.”

You feel your heart melt when you see look towards Haechan’s direction and see his cheeks turning pink. It seems like you’re not the only one when you hear a chorus of dreamy mutterings echo throughout the room. He swats at Jihoon’s hand before tilting his head lightly at the two leaders of the club. “I wanted to make sure this devil spawn doesn’t make a mess every step he takes. I’ll head out now,” He starts to wave at everyone in the room but sounds of disapproval travel around, and before he knows it Haechan is being dragged by Jihoon and Juyeon to take a seat at the table. In the midst of all the commotion, he looks up and catches your gaze, making you still in your seat, before he’s handled once more to sit down.

“You’re more than welcome to join us,” Yubin beams, and not for long Minseok comes in with a mountain of pizza boxes in his grip.

You see the tip of his ears turn red (something you now notice that you see a lot) as he thanks your seniors. “I’ll be out after I steal your food,” He grins, and it takes much more than your initial willpower to look away.

So far, you were willing to categorise seeing Haechan manifesting everywhere as chance; maybe some sick and twisted form of coincidence. Because before all of this, if you were to get a dollar for every time you had encountered him throughout your whole degree, you would have six, maybe seven dollars if you count that one Zoom call. You had your doubts in the beginning when you saw him at the library and then at your club meeting, that he was doing all of this on purpose; but every other time you would see him in the hallways and lecture halls, you can’t chalk it up to anything but pure coincidence. Haechan is a uni student doing uni-student activities.

It takes you some time to get that idea jammed into your head, and you’ve nearly convinced yourself until today. A relaxing wind-down with one glass of wine turned into you finishing a whole bottle, which amplified your cravings for something sweet. Meeting in the breakfast aisle in your local grocer shouldn’t be something shocking, but you can’t wrap your head around the fact that he, too, decided to purchase cereal at 4 a.m. on a Tuesday.

“Nope,” You immediately put the two boxes of cereal you were choosing back on the shelf clumsily, looking around for the nearest exit in the opposite direction.

“Hey, wait—”

“No, nope. Not at all,” You’re now putting back all the drunk midnight cravings you’ve picked up, shoving them back in their designated areas on the shelf haphazardly as you make your way back out of the place. Your drunk and sleep-deprived brain can’t handle the fact that you’re supposed to interact with Haechan here, out of all the socially acceptable exchanges. You hear a shuffle behind you, but you can’t bring yourself to look back around, focusing entirely on exiting the store without tripping over anything.

Outside, the cold of the night engulfs you as you try to find your bearings, but you’re stopped from lumbering your way back to your dorm by a hand grabbing your arm.

“Y/n, slow down—”

“Stop manifesting yourself into my life,” You groan as you weakly prod away his hand, but his soberness gives him an upper hand, as he merely grabs your hand and holds you by your wrists instead.

“Manifesting? I’m not— actually, that’s not even important. Is there anyone with you tonight?” You groan lightly, still trying to free yourself from his grip. “Naeun?” He prods.

You sigh when you realise he’s not giving up anytime soon. “Naeun is at home, waiting for the Oreo cereals I was gonna impulse buy. Or maybe she’s dreaming about them? I don’t know,” You mumble, hands now lax in his grip, head tilted down. When you don’t hear a reply, you look up and are met with Haechan fishing his phone out of his pocket before pressing the dial button.

“Hi Jen, I’ll meet you at the dorms, it’s…” He glances at your slumped figure, and you’re not sure if the heat in your cheeks is due to the drinks or his attention on you. “A long story. I won’t be long.” Pocketing his phone after ending the call, he lets go of your wrists in favour of clasping his hand into yours, fingers interlocking as he starts heading in the direction of your dorms.

“What are you…” The dark of the night doesn’t help you navigate your way back, so you’re slightly grateful that Haechan is guiding you the way he is.

“Our dorm buildings aren’t far from one another. I can’t let you go home alone in this state,” He answers your question before you could even voice it, looking at you with a soft gaze. He chuckles when you go to look away from him every time he looks at you, squeezing the grip he has on your hand.

The walk is silent for the most part, but Haechan’s brows are furrowed as he thinks about something. Just as you start seeing the entrance of your dorm building, Haechan starts. “Why are you ignoring me?”

The heat in your cheeks disperses momentarily as a cold wave washes over you. The heat comes back when your wide eyes meet his questioning gaze, and you can’t help but squirm in place from being put on the spot.

“That’s cheating,” You slur with a frown. “Ask me when I’m sober. Or when you’re also a bottle of wine in.”

“A whole bottle? Jesus,” He laughs lightly as you groan, tightening his hold on your hand when you try to run away. The pull of his grip catches you off guard, as you stumble forward and closer to his figure. “I hope you can keep a promise, pretty girl.” He teases. Before you can retaliate, he plops you at the entry of your dorm building, swiping the access card to the building poking out of your front pocket and on the reader, before removing his hand from yours and dropping the card back in your possession. You already miss the warmth of his touch, but by the time you look back up, you’re only met with his retreating back.

“Hey, you’re just in time. Did you know that if I did a handstand for almost two minutes straight I can get myself to feel— Why are you empty-handed?” Naeun’s slurs have toned down since you last saw her, but it’s still there. You sigh as you plop yourself face down onto the couch.

“Naeun?” Your voice comes out muffled from the couch cushions, but Naeun hears you regardless, grunting a reply as she shuffles from her position on the floor, probably to find a not-empty bottle of alcohol.

“You know that saying about seducing the things that scare you?” You move your head out from the cushion halfway through your question, wanting to breathe more than to wallow for once.

“Ohhh, I know what you’re talking about,” She hiccups only once. “The fearing what you attract.”

“Attracting your fears.”

“Tomato-tomato. What are you trying to say?”

“I don’t think they were lying about it,” You had only possessed the fear of saying Haechan in the past few weeks, and now you only see him. If only you were that much fearful of money.

“Are you serious?” Naeun straightens her posture quickly. “I’m so scared of puppy play. Like, truly terrified. If someone handsome were to come up to me with a collar around their neck and a leash in their hand I would scream in fear,”

“Okay, I got it the first time.”

“I don’t think you understand, if they were all whiny about how they wanna be my pet and have me stroke the—”

“I get it!”

Although you had came to the epiphany that you’re attracting what you fear (you don’t know if the exaggerated gasp you let out when you walk by a bank or ATM helps, but it’s worth a try) you still can’t get yourself to not think of Haechan when you walk around campus.

But you don’t see him for the entire week after your last drunk interaction with him, and you’re not sure if you should be relieved or scared. So you choose to be both simultaneously, When you step into your corner of the library, your heart beats like you’ve run a marathon, only to be met with the usual vacantness it always was. You then go through your usual tasks until you have to a secondary location, and before you know it you’re nervous for simply wanting to walk to the bathroom.

“Am I going to constantly piss my pants every step I take on campus?” You complained over dinner with Naeun, as she constantly flips the meat on the grill to avoid burning it.

“If you keep thinking about him, then I think the answer is obvious.” She puts one slice on your plate before continuing. “But also maybe take this as a sign? He’s not popping up randomly anymore, which means that your life is like it was before.” Your reflex is to fight back for no other reason than to counteract your friend, but you cut yourself short when you realise she has a point. Ever since that fateful night, your life is now like it was before you had briefly acquainted with the man.

And so you’re not scared anymore. You even forget to double-check your surroundings to see if he’s anywhere in sight. Your life is as peaceful as a student's life can be. Of course, until it isn’t.

The university’s yearly fundraising festival had come around again, and the broadcasting club had decided to run a barbeque booth to raise their supply funds. You were assigned to take orders, while Juyeon and Yubin tended to the skewers. The heat of the booth mingles with the cool wind of the summer night, as you fan yourself with your hand, handling the money given to you as someone makes a new order.

“One order of chicken skewer please,” You raise your voice enough for Juyeon and Yubin to hear over the sizzling noise of the grill, as you find the exact change to give back to the girl ordering. As the next customer shuffles up, you’re too busy writing down the order on a slip of paper to spare them a glance (which, if this was a running business, would not be counted as good customer service).

“Welcome! Would you like to order our rice cake skewer? We have a special combo of two for the price of one,”

“How much is it for a few minutes of your company?” You feel your blood run cold upon hearing his voice. Looking up, you’re met with Haechan’s gaze your eyes locking in an unexpected encounter. Adorning a smile on his face, he looks past you and greets your club members before you can think of what to say.

“Hi Channie, how are you?” Yubin asks as she put a chicken skewer in a cup. Juyeon comes up next to you as he reaches out to pinch Haechan’s cheeks. “Hey there cutie, do you wanna do us a favour and buy everything from our booth?” He flutters his eyelashes just for good measure.

Haechan chuckles as he smacks his friend's hand away. “I’m the wrong person, only Chenle has enough money to do that. But can you do me a favour and let me steal your beloved club member?” You don’t realise that he’s talking about you, until you see his hand gesturing towards your figure as he looks at you. You’re about to protest, your brain already conjuring something up about how you have the heavy duty of being the booth’s designated accountant for the night, but Yubin is always a step ahead.

“Go ahead! Her turn was gonna end soon anyway, Sohee is gonna arrive in a few minutes with more of our supply,” She beams at you as she waves you two off. Before you can say anymore, Juyeon is shoving you out of the way, and you have no other choice but to trudge after him.

You walk side by side in silence, as the noise of the multiple booths being run by different clubs and societies encapsulate you two. You try your best to look at everything but him, even when you feel him stealing glances at your figure.

The silence doesn’t last long, though, as Haechan speaks up after looking around at the booths set up. “It’s quite stuffy with all these booths and people,” Not knowing what to say, you merely glance at him as you nod along. He purses his lips, before trying again.

“You must be feeling pretty warm, running the grill and managing everything at the booth. Jihoon used to complain all the time about how hot it got when he was in charge of these things." It's true you've been avoiding the grill area, so you’re not necessarily overheating, but does he deserve to know?

You hear him lightly huff when you just give a shrug and an ambiguous sound, but he doesn’t back down. “Do you want me to get you something to help you cool? Maybe ice cream or a can of coke.”  You're on the verge of giving your umpteenth non-verbal response of the evening, but when you look at the boy walking next to you, you’re met with a glare and a quick snarl of his lips. Faced with his insistence, you decide to speak up.

“I’m okay,” You thought this would appease him, but it seems like anything you could’ve done would eventually send him over the edge.  You feel his hand clasp onto your wrist before you’re being dragged away from the congested corridor of booths and into a secluded corner of the campus grounds. Even in the shade of the tree, the little light that slips through the lampost nearby highlights the frustration on Haechan’s face, both arrogance and apprehension flood your senses as you realize that his frustration might be a result of something you've done.

His voice is calm when he speaks, “Okay, did I do something to offend you?” He briefly closes his eyes and mentally counts a few numbers before opening them and looking back at you again, this time with a calmer yet stern expression. But rather than soothing your irritation, this seems to send you over the edge.

“I don’t know, did you?” You know you’re being childish, but that’s the point. You’re not planning on giving in until he apologises. By the look of confusion he’s sporting on his face, it doesn’t seem like it's gonna happen anytime soon.

Admittedly, he does look cute when confused, as his front teeth poke ever so slightly from his slightly gaped mouth, as if he’s about to say something but blanked at the last second. “I did do something?” At your scoff, he gathers himself. “Look, if I did do anything, I didn’t have any bad intentions. I wasn’t trying to hurt you or anything.” But this explanation only sends you over the edge.

Your hands drop from where you had crossed them in front of your chest, as you give Haechan an incredulous look. “No bad intentions? You didn’t want to hurt me? Are you serious? The fact that you even did it is terrible, but such a useless, no-brainer prank?” You’re too angry to notice Haechan’s shift of expression, as his scared grimace falls into another confused furrow of his brows.

“Like, a fucking bucket of water? Even a toddler can pull that. Couldn’t you have done something harder, more creative? Something with more effort, like, I don’t know, expired slime or a skateboard at the door. And I feel even more stupid because I believed you when you said you wouldn’t prank me, I even defended you when Naeun was going off about how I’d be your next target, and I turned out to be a fool, fuck. And for what? A lame bucket of water? Am I only worth that much?” You pause to catch a breather, hand splayed at your waist as you point the other accusingly at Haechan. He widens his eyes slightly, but then a smile falls on his face, and you’re sent spiralling.

“Are you smiling right now?” And at that, he starts laughing. Oh my god, you think, he’s a sociopath.

But Haechan starts laughing even harder, his body falling forward as he leans towards you, clutching your extended finger with his thumb and forefinger, shaking it around before folding over with laughter once more. You’re so, so confused, and now a bit scared that Haechan’s gonna keel over and fall from how hard he’s laughing.

But you don’t need to do such a thing, as he sobers up pretty quickly, straightening himself up and walking closer to you, while his hand now lightly holds your palm in his. You feel heat course through you, from the comfort of his hands holding yours and the sweet laughter that now rings in your head. You feel embarrassed that you bursted like that when you were so determined to make him fall to his knees and ask for your forgiveness. Instead, you’re left blushing like a schoolgirl who confessed with a heartfelt letter.

“Okay, okay. Wait, don’t go sullen now.” You look away, your cheeks growing hotter at being so easily read. Haechan grips onto your hand that was lightly resting on his palm, grabbing your attention.

“I swear on Renjun that I didn’t pull that prank on you. I didn’t even know that happened to you.” Your first instinct is to not believe him, but he’s looking earnestly into your eyes, and the gentle squeeze of his hand in yours makes you melt.

“I don’t know how I can prove it you that it wasn’t me, But I told you I wouldn’t do it and I always stick by my promises. I can maybe help you find who did it?” He offers this while smoothly clasping your hands together, fingers now lacing in yours. The intimate gesture sends a wave of flustered warmth through you, and his chuckle in response only confirms that your emotions are evident.

“Wah,” He sighs bumping his shoulder into yours, “What a relief, I thought you were rejecting me before I could even muster the courage to ask you out.”

“Wait, you—” You’re interrupted as Haechan starts striding forward and back into the busy atmosphere of the campus. “Haechan, slow down.” Your voice gets lost in the throng of the crowd, the bustle of people and echoes of activities happening making it hard for your plea to reach his ears. That, or he's simply ignoring you.

In a blink, you're situated back at your booth, the savoury scent of skewed chicken and rice cake wafting through your nose. Haechan releases your hand, and you both face Sohee, who's manning the cashier with a somewhat indifferent expression. “Hi, I just wanna return her,” Haechan says casually, his gaze shifting between you and Sohee.

Sohee regards the two of you with a blank stare, her expression unreadable. Haechan pats your shoulders twice before he waves the two of you goodbye. Sohee goes back to organising the money gained from tonight’s business, not sparing you another glance. “We have a no return and refund policy, especially with damaged goods.”

“Hey!”

You’re not surprised when you see Naeun in the lecture hall, but you are slightly taken aback when you see her situated just a few seats behind Renjun and Jeno. When you rock up next to her, you let your eyes do the talking as you glance back and forth between her and Jeno’s back, with the latter all the more oblivious to what’s happening.

She smacks at your leg before grabbing you and pulling to sit you down. “Shut up,”

“I didn’t even say anything?”

“Your empty brain echoes really badly when you conjure even a single thought,” You’re too shocked to retort back (how did she think of that so quickly?), so you simply go to unpack your bag. When you sit back from organising your items, your eyes fall on the door of the lecture room, and you’re surprised to see Haechan stride in. Even in the middle of summer, he has a leather jacket swinging from his fingers at his shoulder, sporting a white graphic t-shirt tucked into his black jeans. You’re about to say something to Naeun, maybe have her indulge in your admiration for a bit, only to be met with the same look you’re sporting but just aimed at the back of Jeno’s head.

When Jeno turns his head to greet his friend, Naeun quickly whips her head away, clearing her throat. You poked at her sides teasingly, as she squirms and smacks your hand away.

“I thought you were gonna ‘act chill’ around him?” Naeun huffs at your words.

“I am acting chill, I’m basically freezing.” You raise your brows at her. “There’s nothing chill about staring at the back of hi—”

Naeun smacks at your mouth when Renjun turns his face sideways, but the loud smack of skin garners more attention, as all three of them look back at you. As the other two merely glance briefly before going back, Haechan’s eyes stray longer while the corner of his mouth quirks up. You offer a simple wave and he flashes a smile before turning back around.

Naeun sighs as she releases her hand from your face, but quickly corners you with a glare. “What was that? Why was he smiling at you like that?” You’re grateful that she’s been practising her inner voice, as you know that Naeun from two weeks ago would have had the whole lecture hall aware of her words with how loud she whispers.

“Long story short, he didn’t do it, and I think …” You’re not sure if you should tell Naeun about the possible confession that occurred. Not because you don’t trust your friend but because you’re not even sure if that could be counted as a confession.

“How are you so sure? Maybe he said it to get on your good side,” Naeun stares daggers at the back of Haechan’s head, but her gaze quickly softens when Jeno plays with his hair.

“I don’t know,” You confess, “He said he didn’t do it, and I trust him.” Naeun surveys your expression for a bit with a glare, before nodding her head in acceptance.

“Alright, I trust your trust in him. But if he ever pulls anything…” You pinch your friend's cheek in gratitude. “I know, you’ll have my back.”

“Speaking of back, did you see Jeno’s when he stretched? It’s okay if you haven’t he’ll do it again when we're a third through the lecture.” You slowly pat her shoulders, speechless once more as you sigh and try to tune her out for the rest of the lecture.

read part two here !!

[bookished]

( a collection of fun and adventurous dialogue prompts. adjust phrasing as necessary.) feel free to make edits to better suit your muse, but please don’t edit or add on to the original post <𝟑 if you like, please consider supporting me through tips, it's highly appreciated.

"Want to try sneaking into the movie theater?"

"There's this exclusive sky bar on the top floor. I bet if we act confident enough, we could just walk right in. Ready to blend in with the high rollers?"

"You know the 'Staff Only' areas in aquariums always look so intriguing. I've got an idea involving lab coats and clipboards. Interested?"

"There's a secret passage in this art gallery that leads to a hidden exhibit. I overheard the curator talking about it. Shall we go exploring?"

"I've always wanted to see a movie from the theater's projection room. I've got a friend who works here – you get what I mean?"

"So, that exclusive restaurant is fully booked for months, but I may have 'borrowed' a couple of names from the reservation list. Feeling adventurous?"

"The old amusement park's been closed for years, but I know a way in. Imagine having all those rides to ourselves under the moonlight."

"I heard there's an underground speakeasy in this library. Apparently, you need to whisper a password to the librarian. Wanna try our luck?"

"Remember that fancy pool party we weren't invited to? I've got two waiter uniforms and a brilliant plan. You in?"

"There's a secret rooftop garden on top of that skyscraper. I bet we could talk our way past security if we pretend to be lost interns."

"I know this sounds crazy, but I found a hidden door behind the museum. Want to see where it leads after closing time?"

"The local TV station does live broadcasts from that studio. I bet with the right timing, we could sneak onto a set during a commercial break. Ready for your 15 seconds of fame?"

"I discovered a hidden hot spring in the woods just outside town. It's a bit of a hike, but imagine a midnight dip under the stars."

"There's a secret room in the library that's usually locked. I copied the key while volunteering. Want to see what forbidden books they're hiding?"

"Remember that fancy cooking class that was full? Well, I may have found a way for us to observe from the kitchen's back entrance. Hungry for some culinary espionage?"

"I know how to get onto the roof of the tallest building downtown. The view of the sunset from up there is incredible. Shall we?"

"There's a masquerade ball at the governor's mansion tonight. I've got two masks and a wild idea. Care to crash a high-society party?"

"My friend works at the zoo and says we could help feed the penguins after closing time. Interested in a secret animal encounter?"

"I heard this old theater is supposedly haunted. Want to sneak in after hours and do some ghost hunting?"

"There's a secret beach hidden behind those cliffs. The catch? We'll have to climb down a rope ladder to reach it. You up for it?"

"I found an old map of the city's underground tunnels. Fancy a subterranean adventure date?"

[verstappen-cult]

#. . . Five times Max refuses to acknowledge he’s sick + one time he does.

request made by @lucien-calore. . . “hi, you asked for a max request and i shall deliver! can i please have a sickfic where max refuses to acknowledge he's sick (a flu or something, nothing too serious) but when he does, he acts like a drama queen?”

#1

You’re making dinner when you hear Max coughing from his streaming room, then the laughs of his friends making fun of him. 

You don’t think too much about it. That is until he can’t stop coughing while you’re eating, and when you’re getting ready for bed, and at all during the night. 

It’s only in the morning, as you’re making breakfast and he’s feeding the cats, when you decide to say something. 

“Baby?” You say, trying to look nonchalant while making the eggs. 

“Yes?” He puts the cat food away and makes his way to you. Max hugs your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “What happens?”

“I’m gonna go to the pharmacy after pilates, do you need anything?” 

Max hums, like actually thinking about it before saying, “No, love. Got everything I need.”

“You sure? Nothing for that cough you have?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He kisses your cheek and pulls away, grabbing an apple. “I’m gonna be streaming, make sure to say goodbye before you leave, okay?”

#2

“Are you okay?” It’s the fourth time in less than an hour that Max enters the kitchen to fill his bottle of water.

“Yeah, it’s just that all the singing and screaming at the concert last night left me with a sore throat.”

You try not to laugh but it’s impossible. It’s been three days since he started with that horrible cough, which hasn’t stopped, but he still doesn’t understand that he’s probably sick. 

“Max, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t that.” You close the book and get up from the couch, he looks confused as you get closer and place your hand on his forehead. “Jesus, Max, you’re burning up!” 

“I’m hot, don’t you think?” 

“Max, I’m serious, you got a fever.” 

“It’s probably nothing,” He reassures you by placing a kiss on your cheek before turning around. “I fell asleep on the terrace. I’m gonna take a shower, okay?” 

“Max, I swear to God—”

“You look hot when you’re angry.” That’s the last thing he says, walking away. 

“Max!” 

#3

It's impossible. You’ve tried everything to make Max understand that he’s sick and needs to rest, but he won’t admit it.

This morning you practically begged him to stay in bed to rest and recover, but he did not listen to you, saying that it was nothing — as he’s been saying all week — and actually dragged you to the Padel court because ‘I’m gonna win this time’. 

Dani’s visiting, so, everyone got together to spend Sunday morning at their favorite place, promising to go to brunch after. But it’s been three hours and they have just finished the second game. Who’s fault is that? Max’s. 

It’s no secret that Max is not very good at Padel, but now that he’s sick it’s been torture. Every couple of minutes they have to stop the game for him to cough, so it’s been impossible to actually play and he doesn’t want to give up. 

And it’s worse because Charles is his partner. Only a look at the Monégasque and you know he wants to murder him. 

“Max,” You call his name, leaving your book aside and walking closer to the wall that’s separating both of you. “you’re sick, why don’t we go home?”

“But, baby, I really think I can win this one.”

“No you won’t!” Lando shouts from across the court as he’s stretching. 

“Oh shut u—”

“Max, I’m serious.” You don’t know what else to do at this point. He’s always been so stubborn, but this has reached new levels. 

“I’m gonna win this for you, baby.” He winks and turns around to join the rest of the group. 

#4

“Max? Why are you still in bed?” You enter the room, gaze immediately going to the watch on the nightstand. It’s two in the afternoon. He never stays in bed past ten, not even during winter or summer break. 

“Jus’ tired.” He mumbles, face hidden in the pillows. 

“I’m gonna make you a cup of tea, okay?” You sit next to him, stroking his hair. 

“Don’t want a cup of tea,” He opens his eyes, looking up at you and pouting. It makes you giggle. “I want you.”

“I won’t kiss you until you admit you’re sick.”

“That’s so unfair!” He pouts again, this time grabbing your arm and trying to make you lie next to him. “I’m not sick. I’m like super healthy.” You snort, shaking your head and standing up. 

“Then, no kisses for you.”

Max groans, hiding his face under the blankets. “I can survive without your kisses, you know.” 

That makes you laugh because you know Max, and you know how much he likes to kiss you at every opportunity. The chances of Max keeping that promise… Impossible.

“Whatever gets you through the night, Maxie.”

#5

“Hey, baby.” Max places a kiss on your cheek as you leave the grocery bags on the kitchen table. “You got everything for tonight?”

“Yes. I already talked with your mom and they’ll be here at around nine.” Max helps you put the groceries away, frowning when he sees some medicine and a special broth he knows perfectly well among the things you will need for dinner tonight.

“What's this?”

You try to hide a smile, pretending to be busy with anything just to keep you from looking at him. “Your mom said you used to love it as a kid.”

“Yeah,” He says, still confused. “when I was sick.”

“You are sick, Max. I don’t know how many times I need to tell you this.”

“I am not!” He huffs, rolling his eyes. You can see from the irritated expression on his face that he's tired of you repeating the same thing over and over again. “I’m gonna go play for a little bit.”

You grab his hand before he can walk away, pulling him closer to you. “Hey,” Max raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to talk. But you cup his cheeks instead, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m worried, I don’t want you to get worse.”

“Yeah, whatever.” 

You can only watch as he leaves the room, Jimmy following closely behind. 

“Well, I tried.” You mumble, looking at Sassy perched on the counter. She meows and you’re glad at least someone understands you.

+1

“Schatje?” You hear Max’s hoarse voice say. 

“Mmh?” It’s your answer, busy peeling some vegetables. “What happens?”

He hesitates for a second, you see from the corner of your eyes how he avoids looking at you, which makes you stop and turn your attention to your boyfriend. 

“I’m sick.” He whispers, surprising you. But he deserves a little teasing. 

“What? I didn’t hear you.” You play dumb, and Max sees right through you. 

“You were right, okay? I was being an idiot.”

“Yes, you were.” He pouts, making you feel warm all over. You walk to him, placing your hand on his forehead. “You have a fever. Why don’t you go lie down on the couch, uh? I’ll heat up the broth.” 

“I’m sorry for being an idiot.” He breathes into the air, blushing all the way from his cheeks to his neck. You know that admitting when he’s wrong is not something easy for him.

“I know, baby. But,” You reach up and boop Max on the nose with your index finger. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

“But I wanted to help you, everyone’s about to arrive.” 

“Worry about what your mom will say once I tell her how stubborn you have been.” He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. “If you’re a good boy and take the medicine, I’ll think about giving you a… reward.”

If Max takes the medicine and finishes all the broth is only because he wants to get better. It has nothing to do with the reward you’re going to give him tonight.

[princesssmars]

winter wonders.

some abby anderson thoughts tied to holly jolly!

wc : 2.342

contains : fluff. wlw relationship. some nsfw i mean its me. oral sex r!receiving. mentions of past abby and owen. college hockey abby and skier reader again.

a/n : this scenario has infested my brain i wont move on! and its embarrassing how i started this in febuary but its december again soooo a+ procrastination?

palestine : tlou2 + palestine , how to help <3 enjoy!

abby is such a lover girl and she shows it constantly. i showed it in the full fic but one of the sweetest ways she shows affection is feeding people and taking care of their wellbeing.

text her that you're exhausted after class? she's making a quick meal and giving you cuddles on the couch. if anything is bothering you she is doing whatever she can to make it better.

and as much as abs loveees to take care of you, to the point where you think it's ingrained into her very being, she also loves to be babied and taken care of! the first time you sew her a stocking for christmas when you were snowed in at the dorms she cried for an hour.

i just know she loves it when you're physically affectionate as well. she finds it so charming and silly how when she tries to press a sloppy kiss to your cheek in a cafe you'll jerk back like you've been burned, not wanting to be seen as a sap, but behind closed doors you're alll over her.

pressing gentle kisses to her fingertips when you're both reading before bed. gently massaging her thighs after she went too hard at practice or in the rink. once you two had been invited to a movie night with the crew, and after she volunteered to make the popcorn she came into the living room to see no spots left. she was prepared to take her spot on the floor, but you had gotten one of the three couches to yourself because of your own leg injury on the slopes. before she could even crouch you tugged her over to you, her waist between your legs as you held her from behind. jordan was probably calling her whipped for how she melted into you, eyes fluttering as you brushed your fingers through her hair. she didn't really care. for now.

feel like she tries so hard to maintain good communication in all of her relationships. she's had friendships crack and break because of rumors and miscommunication and she wants to keep everyone she's close to around for a long time. she tells you once she learned it because of family therapy she did when her dad adopted her siblings yara and lev, who you sadly missed during your shared thanksgiving. you think it's adorable how she shows so much love for her family, constantly talking in her family group chat and sharing stories about her day with her little sister and brother.

didn't delve too much into it but being abby's new years eve kiss... she takes it very seriously. if you have to use the bathroom you better hold it because she is gonna bring in this new chapter of her life and she wants you to be there as long and as closely as you can be <3333

and you just know she is so so so good on valentines. yes she does get your flowers delivered while you're out and about during class or at your part-time. probably has a corny little card attached saying 'snow secret ice crazy about you'. almost so cute it makes you want to vomit. in a cute way!

if you want to go all out? say no more. she is booking you an entire day of romantic activities and spoiling you to your heart's content. but all i can imagine is having a nice and intimate dinner in a cozy little restaurant. cuddled up inside the booth as she admires you like you're an angel that's come into her life.

get her some chocolate-covered strawberries and she will swoon. but get both of you custom engraved bracelets with your initials? you aren't leaving the house for a week. have fun.

so not being original here but i def feel like abby is studying medicine. maybe not neuroscience like her dad, her hands aren't the best after so many hits and falls on the ice. but i love the headcanon of her going into the subfields of muscles or sports medicine. maybe even pediatrics because we all know she'd be the best with kids. she wants to pursue hockey full time, but she won't let it get in the way of her academics.

speaking of kids...

abby always says she's known since your first date she was gonna marry you. you would always roll your eyes and tell her to shush with a barely contained smile, but you both know a part of her isn't joking. there aren't words i can think of to say how in love she is with you, someone so similar but so different that she gets excited just at the thought of growing older together with.

she doesn't think there will ever be a dull day when she sees you. she'd take every mood swing, every petty fight, and every bit of insecurity if it meant she could just wake up and see you every morning. but she knows it's early, you're both still young and haven't ever started your careers yet. on your birthday, after taking you to a beautifully planned surprise party, she stands you in front of your mirror and presents you with your gift. its a necklace, simple yet intricate with two interloping hearts. you don't say anything, and she doesn't say anything, but your hearts swell and she hugs you tightly from behind.

once she makes sure you're okay with holiday activities trust she will keep the two of you busy all of december. she runs over her and mannys christmas decorations like a soldier, trust she will be up to date on any new trending decor items that pop up in the nearest hobby lobby or home goods store. she would absolutely love to go to a winter market and buy some gifts for her family and friends, picking up and admiring any little vintage trinket she can find.

and i just now she’s a christmas movie fanatic. dedicates a whole weekend in december for the two of you (or the whole group!) to get some hot chocolate, bundle up under the covers and watch holiday themed movies until you can’t take it anymore.

(feel like she’d be such a traditionalist about it though. it takes a heap of convincing from you and manny to let her put die hard in the movie rotation.)

but abby can be such a chill (haha) person. when you first met her you thought she was a cocky piece of shit, but over time she showed you how understanding and calm she could be. she doesn't like getting angry at people during the day, preferring to let out her anger during hockey games. but trust if someone is being a dick to one of her friends or you, she will put them in their place.

after

she is really good at ice skating. which sounds silly because duh, she plays hockey. but one day you watch a youtube video about figure skaters switching places with hockey players and you ask her to see if she could do some of the moves. she's a big girl but also insanely quick, and when she does a lutz on the first try you're more than shocked.

but also not! because abby is nothing but persistent. which is why when she asked you to teach her how to ski you thought any higher power up there was laughing at and testing you. at that point it had been months since you restarted your training with your father. it was hard, balancing your life with working out and spending hours every week practicing on the local fake slopes, but it was thrilling to be doing it because you wanted to do it. and thankfully your injury was basically gone.

(although sometimes you would fake like it was paining you so abby would set you on the bed and massage and take care of you. but who wouldn't do that?)

but when abby asked you to teach her you were nervous. not because you doubt your ability, hell no, just the opposite. nora had come along to one of your sessions, and when a young fan came up to you to ask for tips, all a tired and overworked you could say was "just be good at it." ever since she had teased you, throwing the worst joke you'd ever heard and saying you were going to turn into your dad. you didn’t talk to her for four days after that.

but you decide to give your girlfriend a chance. you warn her ahead of time that because of your dads teaching style growing up, you wouldn’t be too perceptive, and her size might make her momentum gain too quickly. but again, your girl was nothing if not persistent, listening to your words and placing a kiss on your cheek with an “i got this.”

she did not. she did at first, easing down the short slope with the caution of a giant baby deer, and doing a victory pump the first time she made it down the bunny slope while nearly tripping. things were good!

until jordan, sweet, stupid jordan made some bet that abby couldn’t ski down the intermediate slope for a video to send to her teammates. and like a moth to a flame, she got up the slope as fast as she could and tried her very best, before falling on her face halfway through. she wasn’t too badly hurt, laughing at the way you fussed over the small cut on her cheek.

this wasn’t the first time you witnessed some of abby's athletic determination. you wouldn't lie and say it hadn't afflicted you sometimes, able to recall the multiple times you and your girlfriend had made bets about who could do the most reps in the gym or run up the stairs quicker. it was all sunshine and rainbows until one misplaced pencil on some stairs led to you tripping into her and the both of you landing in a heap of limbs at the bottom of the stairs. you are more than glad that no one else was in the hall at that time.

not to say her over-achieving nature was all bad. there were definitely quite a few times that her aggressive behavior on the ice when her teammates showed premature defeat for an opposing team made you a little hot and bothered in your seat, eyes tracked on her body as she pushed past opponents like a bullet train.

and it is more than helpful in bed. one weekend you’d returned to your own apartment in a shitty mood from classes and skiing problems, ready to just eat some junk and rest in bed for two days straight. but of course, as soon as you texted your plans to your girlfriend she was over at your place in not even fifteen minutes. she had plenty of snacks and your favorite sweatshirt of hers to wear. but she could tell after a while into watching a movie you were still in a pissy mood, so she decided to help you relax in another way.

unfortunately, your sour mood was too strong as you’d yet to reach your peak after twenty minutes with abby in between your legs. it really was a shame, she looked so pretty when she was concentrated down there. you gently push at her forehead and lament that it’s no use, you're somehow too aggravated to have an orgasm.

your palm gently pushes at her forehead until she’s hovering over your cunt, a slight tingle running up your body when you see her blissed-out face and slick-covered mouth.

“abs, it’s just not gonna happen tonight. I'm way too stressed out.”

her eyes scan your face before her brows do that thing - the furrow she does when she gets an idea in her head that she just has to see through.

“just let me try for a little while longer, okay baby?”

and god, you couldn't say no to her when she looked like that and you were so pent up. you give her a small nod and watch as she rushes off the bed to the bottom of your bedstand to grab an old vibrator deep in one of the drawers.

“how’d you know where i hid that?” your voice is breathless as you watch her resettle back between your legs, turning on the vibe with a small smile on her face.

“because i know you. besides, need to know where to get things in case of emergency.”

you were going to laugh but then she’s immediately attaching the vibrator to your clit at the highest setting, a strong hand holding down your hips that buck up into the sensation and gripping your waist when you try to run from it.

let's just say when the night ends you are officially destressed.

uhhh back to. winter!

really think she’s in her element during this season. she’s in the huddle of her hockey season, gets to wear all of her favorite sweatshirts and hoodies and take long walks through the city as the snow ghosts over her face.

and just like i said earlier once she realizes you’re okay with the festive stuff? get ready for winter-themed dates.

one of your new favorite memories with her is definitely sitting on a plush blanket on the floor near her balcony door, the gentle downpour of snow a backdrop to your mini picnic date as you make s’mores and treats with an electric tabletop and share stories and kisses with wine-stained lips <3

abrupt ending but im trying to finish off things just lying in my drafts lolll uhh happy holidays yippee!

[marauder-misprint]

Slug Club

Series Masterlist

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!reader

4.3k words

cw: fluff, drinking, smoking

“Did you have to take Regulus shopping with you?” Dorcas asks as you get ready for Slughorn’s party.

“You and Dory would have made me try on the entire store and then some.”

“Maybe so, but now he’s seen you in the dress.”

“So?”

“How are you going to have the moment when you walk down the stairs and he goes ‘Wow, you look dot dot dot beautiful’ if he’s already seen the dress?” Pandora asks.

You laugh and shake your head. “Someone has read too many romance novels. That doesn’t happen in real life and Regulus and I are just friends.”

“Did he not ask you to a formal party?” Pandora asks.

“He didn’t know it was formal when he asked,” you reply. “And he wanted to go with someone he could stand. I think the bar was set pretty low.”

“It’s Regulus,” Dorcas laughs. “That bar is high as hell.”

You and Pandora join her laughing. It wasn’t a secret that many people annoyed Regulus so he was picky with who he surrounded himself with. Well, as much as he could at this point. Barty had latched onto him during their first year and it was through Barty that Evan joined the group. You befriended Regulus during that year as well, bringing Pandora and Dorcas with you. So really, Regulus was friends with you and Barty, and you two came with baggage in the form of additional friends. 

With your hair and makeup down, you go behind the screen to change into your dress. In classic Slytherin fashion, you had chosen a dark green dress and are pairing it with silver jewelry. You step out and do a spin for the girls. They cheer and whistle at you. 

“He would so have a ‘You look beautiful’ moment if he hadn’t already seen the dress!” Pandora exclaims, standing up to fuss over you. “You look stunning, babygirl.” 

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “Not to feed your delusions, but he’s only seen the dress. My hair wasn’t done, no makeup, no jewelry. He hasn’t seen the finished look.”

“He’ll be drooling when he does,” Dorcas says. 

You give the girls one last smile and leave your dorm. It was time to meet Regulus in the common room and then head to the party. The girls, however, follow you out of the dorm. They were nosy and wanted to see Regulus’ reaction. Sure enough, Regulus is waiting for you, although his back is to the stairs as he talks to Evan and Barty. The other two boys’ eyes go wide when they see you. Barty lets out a low whistle as Evan turns Regulus around by his shoulders. 

“Black is one lucky man,” Evan says, shaking Regulus’ shoulders. 

“Who knew our dove could clean up so nicely,” Barty adds. 

“Shut up, Junior,” you say as you approach them, although your words have no bite. You like a polite compliment, which, for once, these were. 

“Wait, Junior, how are you not in Slug Club?” you ask.

“You set one too many fires and suddenly Sluggy doesn’t care how brilliant you are,” Barty says with a sigh, despite sounding more amused at it than upset. 

You turn to Evan, “And you?”

“Apparently when a potion calls for frogs, he wants you to-”

“Ah,” you say, holding up your hand. “I remember that class now.”

Evan had cut open the frogs and was far more interested in its guts, muscles and other innards to finish his potion, earning him a zero for the day and detention. 

“You do look beautiful,” Regulus says, not at all stumbling over his words as Pandora would have liked him to. “Shall we get going?”

You nod, take his arm and leave the common room with him. 

---

“Prongs, come on!” Sirius says, annoyed that James hadn’t spoken to him all week and now was refusing to tell him which tie was better. 

“You dug yourself into this hole,” Remus mumbles, not looking up from his book.

“Oh my god, it’s not a date! I just need to get into the party and Lily is my way in!”

James glares at Sirius.

“He’s only been in love with her since we were first years,” Peter adds. 

“If you two had better taste, I’d be asking your opinions, but alas,” Sirius groans and turns back to James. “Please, James, I’m not trying to mack on your love.”

“What if she was going to ask me, huh?” James snaps.

“She said she didn’t want to ask anyone. That’s part of why she said yes.”

“All these years, I’ve been asking her and you ask once. Once! How the hell does that make sense?” 

“Logic would say she fancies Sirius,” Peter says before immediately ducking to avoid a pillow thrown his way.

“She does not fancy me. If she did, I wouldn’t’ve had to swear on James’ broom that I would be on my very best behavior.”

James jumps up and grabs Sirius by his shirt collar.

“You damn well best be a goddamn gentleman all night, Black.”

“I will if you tell me. Which. Tie.” He holds up two almost identical ties and waves them in front James’ face. 

James takes a slight step back and takes in the ties.

“This one.”

“Thank you. Was that so hard?”

“I swear, Padfoot, if you do anything-” James warns.

“She will be treated like the lady that she is, Prongsie. Don’t you worry one bit. I’m not making any moves on her.”

“So why are you so desperate for a Slug Club party?” Remus asks. 

The boys had been wondering this all week, but every time they asked, Sirius changed the subject or found a reason to excuse himself from the group. He’d have to tell them eventually.

“Tryin’ to suck up to Slughorn,” Sirius grumbles, not looking at any of them. He focuses on tying his tie. 

Peter snorts a laugh. “Yeah, right, sure you are.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re not. You’d be paying more attention in Potions if you were,” Remus says. “Try again.”

“I heard there’s going to be booze at this party?” 

“More believable,” James says. “But you don’t need my darling Evans for access to booze.” 

“Host, no. Drinks, no. Person?” Peter lists off.

“Person?” Sirius asks, turning towards Peter.

“Person,” he repeats with a smile. “You’re going for a person.”

“Oh, are you jealous, Padfoot?” James teases. “Some doll ask someone else and you’re trying to make her jealous with Lily?”

“Maybe I want an evening away from you bastards,” Sirius suggests as he finishes getting ready. 

He hurries out of the dorm before they can get another word in. If they were going off the idea that whoever he was interested in was in Slug Club, hence the needing to invite someone, he had time before they figured out it was you he was going to the party for. Of course, they’d come to that conclusion much faster as soon as word got back to them that you were at the party. 

Sirius was delighted to see that Lily was waiting for him in the common room.

“Evans!” he calls. “Sorry I kept you waiting. You look ravishing.”

Lily gives him a kind smile.

“Thank you, Sirius. You don’t look too shabby yourself.”

Sirius spins, giving her a full 360 view. Lily stifles a giggle. 

“So is James talking to you yet?”

Word had gotten out that James wasn’t talking to him fairly quickly, at least among the Gryffindors. It wasn’t hard to notice when the loudest of the Marauders were suddenly more quiet. 

“Only after repeatedly telling him I’m not making a move on you.”

“A means to a mysterious end, that’s all I am to you?” she asks with a playful nudge. 

Sirius shrugs. “The end is mysterious to me too.”

“Then why am I dragging you to this?” Lily asks more indignantly as they walk towards the portrait hole and out into the corridors. 

“You’re not dragging, remember? I asked you.”

“You informed me, and I’m gracefully indulging you.”

“Same difference.”

“It’s not but okay.”

Lily wouldn’t tell anyone, but she actually didn’t mind that Sirius had insisted on going with her to the party. Not only did she not have to worry about asking someone, she did consider Sirius a friend, albeit using the term loosely, and she didn’t have to worry about any unwanted advances from him. 

By the time they made it to the area Slughorn had reserved for the party, most of the Slug Club had congregated. The room itself was decorated to Slughorn’s taste, elegant with lots of greens in various hues. In Sirius’ opinion, it had a hint of old money flavor to it. And, to his delight, he spotted his reason for coming within a minute. 

You and Regulus are chatting with Professor Slughorn in the middle of the room. Of course, there were a handful of other students around him as well, as well as some distinguished alumni. Sirius hadn’t considered that graduated Slug Club members could be invited. Lily takes Sirius’ arm and leads him in the opposite direction of Slughorn.

“Shouldn’t we say hello to the professor?” he asks as she pulls him to stand around an empty hightop. 

“We will,” she says casually, looking around the room. “When there’s less people. Didn’t you see your brother’s over there?”

“Oh, is he?” Sirius asks, feigning having not noticed. “I didn’t notice. Suppose we can wait then.”

He had seen his brother. And, somehow more importantly, you. You in your dazzling green dress and silver jewelry that screamed Slytherin Royalty. He didn’t plan out all of tonight, but he knew he had to get close to you again, talk to you. The more he interacted with you, the more you’d have to like him. If you were going to claim to be a dog person, you had to like him. But until he could get close to you, he would chat with Lily. At least she was a decent conversationalist, given that in any other year, he’d rather die than be dragged to a Slug Club party.

After your initial greeting from Slughorn and the conversation turned more toward Regulus and the other Slytherins around you, you zone out. If anyone tries to get your attention, you already had planned to say you were admiring the decorations. Or that you were seeing which other guests you recognized. You cough to stop yourself from laughing when you see Sirius walk in with Lily. Regulus gives you a confused look so you gesture in their direction. His eyes go wide.

“Merlin…” he mutters.

You both quickly turn your attention back to Slughorn’s conversation, lest either of you be discovered staring at the Black sibling. You nod as the other Slytherins let out various words of agreement to something Slugborn said. 

“Regulus, how is the Quidditch team doing?” Slughorn asks, changing the subject unexpectedly.

“Oh, ah, I’d say we’re doing well. Training tough like usual,” Regulus answers. 

“Then you should meet Mr. Tradeswell. He manages the Magpies, as you know,” Slughorn says, draping an arm around Regulus’ shoulders and taking him to meet one of the older guests. 

You give the other Slytherins a polite smile and follow them. You did not plan on being separated from Regulus at this party. If that meant suffering through a conversation solely about Quidditch with someone with professional connections, so be it. You were more than happy to be quiet and listen. It doesn’t take you long to zone out of the conversation again, only picking up bits and pieces.

“Regulus here is Slytherin’s seeker. Quite a talent, he is,” Slughorn was saying. 

“Are you captain?”

“No, sir,” Regulus answers, his voice dripping with even politeness. You smile at how rehearsed his tone sounds to you. “We have a seventh year captain, and she’s brilliant on a broom. I have my fingers crossed for next year.” 

Regulus shoots Slughorn a smile. He knows he’s a shoo-in for the role, especially if this conversation goes well. 

“Ah, well, you know it’s more than luck to be captain,” Mr. Tradeswell says. “You have to know the game, your teammates, the positions, plays, everything.”

“Oh, sir, I do. I sub in for different positions during drills. I think that’s something a captain should be willing to do, have such a deep understanding of each position that they can fill in where they are needed most. While my specialty is seeker, I’m more than competent at chaser as well.”

“And your weakness?”

“Beater, sir.”

The man nods. “It’s good for a captain to be able to spot weaknesses. In yourself, in your team, in opponents.”

“I wholeheartedly agree.”

You scan the room. Sirius and Lily are off to the side of the room by themselves. He appears to be entertaining her, although she occasionally glances toward Slughorn. They hadn’t been to say hello to him yet and you knew that was required. It was why Regulus had dragged you up to him the moment you two arrived. 

“Let’s just get it over with,” he had muttered to you. 

And then you got stuck talking with him for what felt like forever. 

“Are you on the team as well?” Mr. Tradeswell asks you, bringing you back to the conversation.

“Oh, no. I’m no good on a broom.”

“She’s being modest, of course,” Regulus says, wrapping his arm around your waist. 

You flinch slightly at the unexpected touch, but you don’t pull away or remove his arm. It steadies you once you’re over your initial reaction. 

“I can fly, but not nearly well enough to be on a team,” you say, giving Regulus a damning look. “I’m much better suited for the stands.”

The man laughs and your eyes find Sirius as he follows Lily toward the professor.

“Every team needs their fans,” the man says, giving Regulus a wink. 

Lovely, he was assuming you were more than a friend. With his arm around you though, you couldn’t blame him. Mr. Tradeswell continues talking with Regulus and you’re allowed to let your attention drift. Why you kept going back to Sirius, you weren’t sure. Something about him being here was off putting. Even from a distance, you could see how uncomfortable talking to Slughorn was making him. He didn’t even try to hide it. He was looking everywhere around the room but at the professor and he kept shifting his weight. Unlike his brother, he didn’t have an arm around Lily, not even her shoulders or a linked arm. 

Then he made eye contact with you and gave you a wide smile. You give him a nod in response.

“Pardon me, but I’m going to get a drink,” you say and Regulus’ arm drops from your waist. 

He gives you a concerned look, but your relaxed smile calms his nerves about you leaving. He thought you were uncomfortable with the conversation, and while you weren’t enjoying it per se, you really just wanted something to hold in your hands.

You could have predicted that Sirius would excuse himself from Lily and Slughorn’s conversation as soon as he saw you leave his brother’s conversation. And that he did. He approaches the punch bowl at the same time as you.

“Darling, what a total surprise to find you here!” he exclaims, reaching for a cup.

“I literally told you I’d be here.”

“Did you?” He gives you his trademark lopsided smile. 

“You didn’t seem to know what it was then. So how’d you convince Lily to bring you?”

“She asked me.”

You snort a laugh and pour yourself a drink. “Yeah, I don’t believe that.” You pause and sniff your cup. “Do you think this is spiked?”

“Do you want it to be?” Sirius asks with a cocked eyebrow.

“Godric, please.”

Sirius pours his own and sniffs it as well.

“Sad to tell you that there’s nothing good in here.” He looks around the room and then smiles. “But I see someone who definitely can help us.”

You follow his gaze to one of the younger older guests. You recognized her as an older Slytherin but you didn’t know her name. Without thinking, you start to follow Sirius as he walks toward the woman.

“Andy!” he exclaims, arms outstretched as you get closer.

Her eyes nearly double in size when she recognizes who’s approaching her.

“Sirius? I thought you weren’t in Slug Club?” she asks with smile that looks uncannily like the one on Sirius’ face. “This your girlfriend?”

You and Sirius both laugh awkwardly before Sirius hugs the girl, Andy.

“I’m not and she’s not. In Slug Club or my girlfriend,” he says before turning to you. “This is my cousin, Andromeda.”

You hold out your hand to the girl. “I recognize your face. You were a Slytherin, right?”

“Yes. As were my sisters, Narcissa and Bellatrix. However, I’m like good ol’ Sirius here. Disowned and blown off the tree.”

You recoil slightly, not knowing what that meant.

“I’m, uh, actually here with Regulus,” you say, looking over your shoulder at the younger Black. He is still deep in conversation with Mr. Tradeswell. They moved their conversation to a table and if your eyes weren’t mistaking you, Regulus was taking notes. 

Andy laughs and you can’t help but hear the family resemblance. Regulus laughs like that. 

“So if you’re here with Reggie, who are you here with, Siri?”

You look over at Sirius at the nickname that you’d never heard anyone call him. You give him a curious yet amused look.

“Lily Evans. Brilliant witch but not my type,” he says, ending the sentence with a more hushed voice. “Anyways, do you have anything to make this party more tolerable?”

She was definitely a Black. As soon as Sirius asked, a mischievous look shone in her eyes and she reached into her purse. She pulls out a handful of small vials of clear liquid. She claps them gently into Sirius’ hand.

“Don’t get caught, Siri. I’m still on decent terms with Horace. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Andy, you’re the best!” Sirius says, sliding the vials into his pocket but keeping two out. 

He hands one to you and simultaneously, you cap them and pour the contents into your drinks. 

“I’m not going to… wake up in Feldcroft or anywhere, am I?” you ask.

“They’re not that strong, darling,” Andy says with a smirk on her face. She was clearly enjoying this conversation as an unexpected delight to her evening. “But they’ll make the conversations feel less dull.”

“Okay then,” you say. You give Sirius a smile. “Bottoms up!”

You chug your drink. Sirius and Andy watch with semi-impressed looks on their faces. Once you finish, you hold out your hand to Sirius. An expectant look is etched across your face. He subtly shakes his head but hands you another vial nonetheless. You go back to the drink table to refill your cup. You don’t hear Sirius bid his cousin farewell and follow you. 

“Didn’t think you’d be chugging, love,” he says.

You jump at his proximity. You automatically roll your eyes as you turn toward him and pour the second vial into your cup.

“You didn’t just suffer through a conversation with Mr. Quidditch Manager over there,” you say with a jerk of your head toward Regulus. 

 “Quidditch Manager? James should really meet him.”

“Whatever he wants to know, he can get from Reg,” you say. “I think he’s taking notes.”

Sirius laughs, “Of course he is… They’re a bit the same in that sense.”

“And that’s where it ends.”

Sirius sips his drink. You’re still looking at Regulus so Sirius has a moment to take in how being near you makes him feel. On his toes? Challenged? Alive? 

You don’t seem phased when you turn back and catch Sirius staring. 

“You like my dress too?” you ask cheekily. “So does Regulus. And Evan. And Junior. And Pandora. And Dorcas.” You smirk at him. “So join the club.”

Sirius hums and regrets what he’s going to say before he says it. 

“It would look better on my dorm floor.”

You laugh. Loudly. Sirius certainly wasn’t expecting that and it draws the eyes of those immediately around you. It includes Lily and Regulus, although Mr. Tradeswell doesn’t seem to care. 

“Yeah, sure it would.” You pat Sirius on the shoulder. “You’re not even one drink in and you’re saying silly things.”

“Habit, darling,” he says, trying to cover his tracks. “A flirt’s going to flirt.”

You roll your eyes at him, but he just smiles now.

“Actually, though, how about we step out to finish these?” he asks as he pats his pocket enough for you to hear the soft tinkling of glass.

You shoot a brief look at Regulus who has returned to his conversation. You were supposed to be his date. What about Sirius’ date?

“Won’t Evans miss you?” you ask. 

“Don’t make me laugh,” Sirius says, already grinning. He could tell you want to say yes but are looking for a reason to say no. “As long as I… ugh, stay out of trouble, she doesn’t care.”

You purse your lips, giving Regulus one last look.

“Fine. You got any of those cigarettes?”

His grin gets wider, if that’s even possible.

“I thought you didn’t smoke.”

“Would you believe that I don’t drink either?”

You share a knowing look with him. Sirius throws an arm around your shoulder and guides you out the entrance of the room. You really hoped Regulus wouldn’t miss you too much, but he looked content when you left. You and Sirius don’t wander far. He turns into an alcove with a window. He cracks it open before leaning against the wall and fishing a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He hands you one and lights it for you. 

“Just so you know,” you say, taking a drag, “I’m only out here because Reg looked okay.”

“He can fend for himself. He’s a big boy.”

You shrug. “He was pretty strung out that Sluggy wanted everyone to have a date for this thing.”

“A big boy who focuses on the wrong things… Most of the time.”

“He’s set to be Quidditch captain and his grades are nothing to turn a nose at. I’d say he focuses just fine.”

“Sure, but he’s in Slug Club.”

“So is your Lily Evans.”

“And she was friends with Snivellus until last year. Everyone has their faults.”

“Our faults are abandoning our dates to split mystery shots and smokes,” you say with a laugh. You finish your second cup, place it on the window ledge and hold out your hand for a vial. “Come on now, Black. Don’t be stingy.”

“You’re already a shot ahead of me.”

“And I’m about to be two. Give it.”

He gives you a look you can’t quite read before handing you a vial. You uncap it and take the shot. 

“So,” you say after making a gagging noise, “Andy. What’s this tree she’s burned off of? You’re burned off of? Is Reg burned off it?”

“We, my parents have a family tree at home. They update it. And once you’re disowned, your face gets burned off. She’s engaged to a muggleborn so by family rules, off she goes. I ran away. Off I go.” He pauses and blows smoke out the window. “Your precious Regulus is still on the tree.”

“My precious…” you chuckle. 

Sirius takes a shot. “He is yours, isn’t he?” 

You immediately stop laughing.

“Regulus?”

“Yes.”

“No, Merlin, no.” You shake your head a little too fervently. “Friends. Just good friends.”

You hold out your hand for another vial. Sirius holds it out to you, but he doesn’t let go when you grab it.

“Are we friends?”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to pull the vial from his grasp.

“Are we friends, darling?” he repeats.

“If it gets me this vial, yes,” you spit. 

He lets go and you almost throw the vial to the ground with the force you were pulling it with. Almost. You uncap it and take the shot. You were beginning to feel the effects of your drinks. 

“Why does it matter if we’re friends?” you ask curiously, although your face is wearing a cold expression.

“You’re supposed to like me,” Sirius says with a shrug. 

“What?”

“You claim to be a dog person.”

Your cold laugh echoes around Sirius. It wasn’t the warm laugh that made his stomach flip; this one made it sink.

“You’re still on about that? I don’t get it, Black.”

“If you just gave me a chance,” he says, taking a step toward you.

You take a step back. “I did. And I decided your brother is more my taste.” You tilt your head. “He still is.”

“Why?”

“For the person he is.”

You snuff out your cigarette before it burns your fingers. You give Sirius a polite smile before turning to return to the party. You barely hear Sirius speak as you walk away.

“But I am a dog person.”

---

“Sorry I was gone for so long,” you say when you find Regulus.

You’re grateful he isn’t talking to Mr. Tradeswell anymore. He’s just sitting with other students.

“Where did you get alcohol?” he hisses, leaning toward you.

“Oh, you can smell that?” you ask, briefly trying to smell yourself.

He brings up his hand to stop you. “Yes. Now where?”

“Met your cousin officially. Andy. She gave some to Sirius and, well, he likes to share.”

“I think he likes you more than he likes sharing.”

You roll your eyes. “He just wants to be friends for some reason.”

“Yeah… Some reason…”

tags: @2dloveshp, @yearninglustfully, @made-for-oliverwood, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @hisparentsgallerryy, @itsseaberri, @corawithfanfiction, @devilslittlehelper, @jllyunn, @barnes70stark, @crowleythesexydemon, @flow33didontsmoke

Can you tell I like ending chapters with little comments from Regulus? Also debating creating a series masterlist so I don't have to keep updating each chapter. Anyone got title ideas beyond "A dog person"?

[saltwaterburns]

Hi, hi can you please do SFW and NSFW ALPHABET for Wolverine/Logan???💕💕💕👹

NSFW alphabet for LOGAN HOWLETT/WOLVERINE

This contains 18+ content, read at your own risk

SFW alphabet (coming soon)

a/n: My take on what kind of a freak logan is, winkwink

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

He comes inside you with a deep groan (could absolutely be mistaken for a growl) and I feel like what happens next depends on his mood. Sex with him is never just sweet and sensual, most of the time it's a primal fuck, so if it was angry/posessive or anything like that, he'd stay inside you until he's soft like butter again (I don't think he ever actually gets soft, though... this man has stamina), plugging you full of his cum so you won't waste a drop. He'll wrap his hands around you, pull you to his bare and so, so warm chest and hold you until you fall asleep. If it was a bit sweeter then he'd pull out, give you a forehead kiss and get a nice fluffy towel from the bathroom, wiping your trembling thighs clean. If he remembers he'll clean himself off too but i feel like he'll sometimes forget

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

He likes your hands. They're cute, they fit into his, they pull at his hair as he goes down on you, they play with his cock, they play with your clit, they claw at the sheets, they cover your mouth so you won't wake the whole building with your sounds, you get the gist. He really does like them for other stuff too - he likes how gentle they are with him.

As for himself, I'm having a bit of trouble. Maybe his arms? Dick? Jesus, this is a hard one. His arms cause they carry you and all the little things you buy but they can also protect you. (He has a love hate relationship with his claws, i shall dive into that someday but not now). His dick because he absolutely loves making you cock and pleasure drunk. What do you think?

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves cumming on your tits and then seeing you scoop it up and feed it to yourself, cheeks hollowed like they were around his cock 10 minutes ago. Sometimes after a particularly intense session he just stares at your glistening heat and the way you're clenching and unclenching, his seed dripping out and he feels himself getting hard, again

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I don't think this man has dirty secrets, per se. His sex life to me at least is an open book. Because he's been around for a long time, he's probably experienced and experimented a lot. Maybe that he's into anal play? Because he so is.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

I think he might be one of the most experienced men in the world. He has fucked his fair share of women over the years so he absolutely knows what he's doing and how to do it, he's an expert in pleasuring a woman. If you've been together for a while he will memorise your body like the palm of his hand

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy 100%. He's so gripping your hips to the point that his handprints are almost permanently bruised onto your skin. He also loves spreading your ass cheeks and dipping his thumb into your other hole just to tease and watch you squirm (both from embarrassment and pleasure)

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He's a grumpy, troubled old man, so sex will be intense. He'll only chuckle/grin/laugh just to mock you, and when you've done a particularly good job then he'll offer you a rare smile

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is so hairy but in a sexy way. Definitely not clean shaven down there, but trimmed. Very prominent happy trail, hairy pecs, hairy arms

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He isn't a person who connects well with his own feelings so there won't be any of that mumbo jumbo as he's balls deep inside you, but he will press occasional kisses onto your skin before, during and after

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

As long as he's got you I don't think he really masturbates. The most I can see him doing is jacking off while you're on your knees so he can cum on your tits

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

From the top of my head - daddy kink, size kink, dirty talk, breeding kink, breath play, brat taming, (spit play), spanking !!!!

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Not necessarily at home, but on a bed/sofa/etc. (so you're comfy as he destroys your insides). In private because you're his and his only, no one needs to see you in compromising positions

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You, honestly. You being a brat, you begging, you looking nice, you being domestic, you being kind, just you

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

He doesn't really have turn offs, but an immediate no is hurting you with his claws. As much as you might beg him to indulge in knife (claw) play, the most he'll do is rip your clothes off with them. He is so, so scared of hurting you and seeing genuine fear in your eyes because you're too kind, too sweet for him anyway

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes both. He loves eating pussy, he's a pussy eating champ, he'll pull you to sit on his face, burning your inner thighs with his scratchy beard but he'll also never say no to you gagging and slobbering all over his massive cock (mr. wolverine, the size kink is calling)

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast. And. Rough. Primal. Carnal. Animalistic. Growling, biting, scratching.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

No. Logan wants to take his time with you, really fuck you and claim you, bruise and mark you. It's either all out or nothing with him

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As I mentioned before, he's experimented a lot during his lifetime, but if you want to try something new he'll most likely say yes (as long as it doesn't involve you hurting)

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He might be old and salt & peppery and grumpy but oh my god can he fuck. 5 rounds straight at least, then maybe a cigar and then another 3. He usually comes right after you because the way your pussy clenches around his dick during your orgasm is enough to send any man jizzing their pants

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

This doesn't really go under toys but he might indulge in letting you tie his hands up to the bed frame with a silk tie but you know as well as i do that when things get serious, he won't even have to move a muscle to "break" free. As for toys like vibrators, wands and etc. he doesn't really know about them or care for them

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Very. Teasing and edging you is his favourite hobby. Riling you up, teasing your cute little clit with his thick fingers or his mouth just to pull away right as you're about to reach the peak gives him serotonin

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Fuck meeeeeee mister Wolverine. He's not that loud but definitely will give you a few sounds, he loves to dirty talk (read as: growl) but mostly he's just grunting and chuckling at you

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I thought long and hard about this, so, here you go! He's lowkey into Wade, so he isn't particularly against having a threesome. If he's single, then he wouldn't exactly mind having a threesome with Wade and Wades girl, showing Wade how to properly pleasure a woman. If he finds himself achingly hard as you're jacking Wafe off, it's totally not because he's imagining himself doing that, absolutely not you freak !!!!

If Wade is the single one then he'd be slightly more reluctant but you will find yourself between the two men with Wades cock ramming into your pussy and Logans cock stretching your ass

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

He's fucking packing. Long && thick. I don't really know penis sizes i'm so sorry so imagine like a borderline massive dick. Rock hard abs, of course. Deliciously hairy pecs, wide shoulders, big. Goddamn. Arms. Biteable thighs

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Sex to him is an outlet, a massive one at that, so i'd say his sex drive is quite high. It isn't the answer to everything, though. He has good days and bad days, bad days mostly meaning that he's in a vicious mood and wants to punch rather than fuck

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If we're being a bit humorous then he'll fuck you long and hard, clean you up, give you a kiss, smoke a ciggy and start snoring. But he's not sleeping!!!! He's resting his eyes, dummy. If we're being serious then because he's a mutant of immense power and regenerative abilities then realistically he wouldn't be tired out. If you can stay up for that long then he'll get you some water and just hold you, enjoying the moment of peace

- Thank you so much for reading! As always, this is just how I imagine him. I've been influenced by countless of works here on Tumblr and countless of super steamy tiktok edits, so you're absolutely entitled to your own ideas ❤️

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Thirteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Canon typical violence. A walk through Velaris turns for the worse and the secrets of The Book are finally revealed...

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It would seem I was wrong. It does not take much for Bethsevah Mordeigh to turn. 

I should be ashamed, but the more often Thanatos keeps coming back, the more I come to like him. Make no mistake, he’s as dangerous and volatile as a starving animal, but compared to his siblings he’s a saint. 

I saw him kill a male yesterday. One who stumbled upon our hidden ceremony and threatened to come back with Koschei’s army and crush us and the Mother beneath his boot. 

But with a snap of Thanatos’s fingers the nameless fae was gone. Gone in a gust of red wind that smelled and tasted like metal. And Thanatos looked stronger for it. His pale skin stopped being so translucent. His hair looked a touch darker, so dark it swallowed all light. A piece cut away from the fabric of the world. 

Death is his food. Him and his siblings feed on it and crave it like nothing else. 

Except for me. 

Thanatos says he craves me. And I think I believe him. I think I’m beginning to crave him too. 

Gwyn froze when the mountain’s door slid back. Azriel stood outside Cagniv Library with a bouquet of salt-white water lilies clutched in one hand and pale blue tulips in the other. 

“Azriel,” you smiled brightly, the last word you’d meant to speak to Gwyn dying on your lips. “What’re you doing here?”

The midday sun beat down on the face of the mountain, shortening the shadows around your feet. 

“I was coming from the House of Wind and was hoping you’d take a long walk home with me. These are for you.” He held out the tulips. “And for you.” He held out the lilies for Gwyn, which she accepted after a brief moment of hesitance. 

Azriel looked… lighter. His shadows were stronger than ever, clinging to his body like a second scent, but his eyes held a fondness and love for you that Gwyn had never seen before. Not when he was looking at Mor, not when he was looking at Elain… not when he was looking at her. It was so obvious to Gwyn’s eyes, she was amazed you hadn’t caught on yet. You just looked at the flowers with a touch of color flooding your cheeks. Bashful and uncertain of how to accept such a gift. 

“Thank you.” You touched the velvety petals between your fingers as though they might crumble if you weren’t gentle. 

“Yes. Thank you.” 

Azriel looked at Gwyn, that small smile of his faltering and then growing once more when Gwyn nodded her head. It was a silent acknowledgement. A quiet understanding that didn’t completely escape your notice. 

I’m not happy with you. Gwyn’s eyes spoke. But I understand. Her teal eyes flashed protectively. Don’t fuck this up.

“I assume I’ll be seeing you tomorrow?” Gwyn smirked at you and nudged her shoulder with your own, feeling the soft give of her skin and the strength in her arms. 

“Where else would I be?”

“At home. Sleeping.”

“Pffft. Sleep is for the weak.” 

“Careful. You’re starting to sound like Az. Now shoo.” Gwyn waved you off, watching as you took the arm that Azriel offered and made your way down the smooth steps of the mountain back to the city. 

You bowed your heads together, lips barely moving and cutting out two dark silhouettes in the air. Azriel must have said something funny because your gentle laugh carried itself on the wind, weaving into the air like silver thread. Gwyn couldn’t help but smile at you. 

If she knew what was about to happen, she would have never let you leave the library. 

“They’re in love.” 

Azriel looked sideways at you, catching the sweet scent of your hair as you leaned against him. The Palace of Hoof and Leaf buzzed with quiet energy, the air tinged with the scent of sugar from the confectionary booths. 

“Who?”

“Beth and Thanatos.” 

The book rocked against your hip, matching the beat of you and Azriel’s steps as you walked through the cobblestone marketplace. Lanterns hung unlit from the arches above, bobbing on wire like the bubbles that a pair of hawk-winged children were blowing from the steps of a peach-stone apartment. The girl, blue-eyed and red-haired, nudged the boy, pointing at the Shadowsinger with something like awe. Azriel offered them a faint smile and a few tendrils of his shadows licked at their feet as they scampered away with laughter. It was just a game to them after all. 

“I didn’t think he was capable of love,” Azriel noted. He thought back to the memories you’d unearthed with your powers and of the violent ways Thanatos had inched his way into Beth’s life. Wherever he lingered, death followed. But so far as you knew, he was also incredibly protective of Beth and the other priestesses. They’d benefited from his presence even if they were unnerved by it. He’d kept them hidden from Koschei.

“Beth didn’t think so either.” You flinched when one of the marketplace hawkers held his hand out to you. He didn’t shout like the others and seemed grieved when you stepped back into the folds of Azriel’s wings. He opened his sticky fist palm up to the sky revealing a handful of neat caramel candies wrapped in wax paper. 

“For the miss.” 

Y/n looked at Azriel, who only nodded with a smile.

“Thank you.” You gingerly took them from him, taking a moment to admire the light brown of the confectioner’s eyes, like burnt sugar, and the wisps of candy floss clinging to his shirt like loose threads. 

He didn’t resume his shouting until you were a good distance away, deep voice bellowing out over the square that his wares were made fresh that morning. You unwrapped one of the candies and stuck it in your mouth, sighing as it turned around on your tongue, slowly melting. Azriel took one of the candies you offered, but tucked it into his pocket when you turned your head to inspect the baskets of spices laid out on the sidewall.

“But he keeps staying with her. Keeps warning her of Koschei’s movements so she and her fellow priestesses can stay hidden. He… he cares for her. Or at least Beth seems to think so. The information — the story — is more pleasant than I could have hoped for, and I’m eternally grateful she doesn’t go in depth about their activities—” 

Azriel chuckled. “So it’s not like one of Nesta’s books.”

“Thank the Mother no. But it doesn’t get us any closer to finding out how to defeat Koschei. She doesn’t even talk about Koschei or the priestesses much. Only Thanatos. It’s just a love story.”

“Love stories are never just that though. They’re probably the most powerful things in the universe. Look at Rhysand and Feyre. Cassian and Nesta. I don’t think we’d be where we are now if not for their love for one another. The things they were willing to do to protect what they cared about.” 

“Do you ever wish you had that?” You dared to ask. “That kind of love? A mate?” Azriel turned to look at you, eyes filled with more cryptic meaning than you could ever imagine unraveling. There was hope, longing, grief, and a slew of other emotions. Their weight seemed to press in on you, but you didn’t feel overwhelmed. 

“All the time,” he whispered. Then he smiled, staring down at where your arm was linked to his. “Do you?” 

You turned away almost bitterly. “I don’t know what I’d do with that kind of love. If I’d be able to handle it. It might be too much for me.”

“I would disagree.” 

You couldn’t find the words to respond, so you settled on silence. Luckily for you, silence with Azriel never felt uncomfortable. 

“If your shadows keep taking them, I’m going to forget how many I’ve selected.”

“I see no problem with this,” Azriel shrugged and continued to follow you around the bookshop. It had stuck out to you immediately on your long walk back to the River House. A squat, two-story townhouse with charmingly chipped white paint laid over sturdy brick and sage green shutters. Candles winked in the afternoon light pressed up against window sills where two fat ginger cats lay purring in the sun. The dark, woodsy interior dripped with books, leather notebooks, and automatic writing pens that hovered over thick pages like butterflies. “We have space in the house.” 

“It’s less about space and more about how much I’ve spent.” Your fingers brushed the next book on the shelf and its deep purple binding. 

Oh that one’s interesting — a romance between a Spring Court nymph and a Dundarian knife maker filled with adventure, lust, longing, and found family. 

You’d no sooner plucked it from the shelf before shadows crowded your hands, whisking it off to whatever ether Azriel kept them hidden in. He wrote the name of the book on a sheaf of paper, his handwriting neat and simple. 

You turned on him, arms folded over your chest. “You can’t keep doing that.” 

“You are not to spend a copper of your own money here. Rhysand and Feyre’s orders. Just put it on the House’s credit. Rhysand’s already added you.” 

“They put me on their credit?” You balked even thinking about the money you’d been given access to.

Azriel nodded. “Consider it repayment.”

“Repayment for what? I haven’t done anything.”

Azriel looked at you quietly, as if the answer were obvious. “You’re the reason I still have a sister-in-law and a niece. You’re the reason we now have a name to investigate and are one step closer to defeating Koschei. You’re the reason the Godswoods and the Gallows haven’t been stolen from yet and a number of Librarians still have their lives. Do I need to continue?”

You thought through what he said. It was true that Helion’s intervention in the Godswoods and the Gallows had been effective. No deaths had been reported since then, but it didn’t make you feel any safer. A snake was still a snake, even when camouflaged.

“Only two of those things matter to the Night Court. Helion owes me for the latter.” 

“Then you can have him contact the banks and transfer the sums.” Azriel’s eyes twinkled with mischie. You went to snatch the paper out of his hands, but all he had to do was raise his arm to the ceiling, a smile tugging at his lips. You jumped up, one hand firm on his shoulder for leverage, but it was no use. He was too damned tall. 

You stood on the tips of your toes to get closer to eye level with Azriel. His eyes flickered down to your lips, the shapes they made as you quietly said, “Thank you.” 

You lingered in the stacks for a few moments longer, nervously asked the shop owner to put the list of books on the High Lord and High Lady’s tab — which she did with a warm smile — and then made your way back outside. The bell hanging above the doorway jingled happily, the wood burned sign saying Come back soon! Love, Jessebell. 

You trailed ahead of him down the street. Every sign, every shop window display, every street sign — you drank them in like you were ravenous. 

Azriel felt Rhys’s presence drift in the outskirts of his mind, and without hesitation, he let him in. 

Where are you? What’s taking so long?

Nearly to the Sidra. I brought her to Jessebell’s. 

That explains your lateness. Rhys paused. She must have loved that. 

Azriel smiled inwardly. She did. She really did.  

A female with weathered, dark skin and flowers sprouting from her ears stopped you on the street and although your first instinct was to recoil, you relaxed when she only lifted up a deep black tulip in her textured hands. The wilting flower straightened up when you kissed one of the petals as instructed and the gentle laugh that followed had Azriel’s heart soaring. 

Well make sure you get here in time for dinner. I want as many of our family members under my roof as possible.

Is this an ask, or a command?

Don’t make me use my High Lord voice on you.

Azriel rolled his eyes with a smile. I am absolutely trembling. Do you use that tone of voice on Nyx? 

He felt as much as heard Rhys’s laughter. Enjoy your time with Y/n, but come back soon. Mor is looking to get her hands on your mate. Mother help us all.

Rhys cut the connection and Azriel was free to admire you once more. 

You cradled the bouquet he’d given you in your arms, light reflecting off the petals and casting a faint blue glow on your face as you chatted with the florist. Your smile, which had started out forced and nervous, was slipping into something more relaxed. When the female laughed merrily and touched your wrist, you didn’t flinch. 

Dark tendrils of night curled around his ears and Azriel felt a shiver trail down his spine. 

Behind you. His shadows whispered. The boy needs help. There’s something wrong with him.

The boy startled back when Azriel turned towards him, tripping over a nick in the cobblestones and landing with a wince on his palms. Glassy pale eyes stared up, wide and terrified. His clothes were rumpled and unkempt and his white-blond hair was a mess of curls flecked with grey, like he’d been rolling around in dust. Pale pink and blue veins rose to the surface of his green-tinged skin, sickly and unnerving. He looked like a corpse on puppet strings.

Azriel looked around, but no one was searching for the little boy. No yelps belonging to scared parents. No calls from a sibling. 

“Shadowsinger, sir?” Even his voice sounded sickly, like his vocal chords were disintegrating in his throat. 

Azriel immediately dropped to his knees and slid his hands behind his back. “What’s happened, little one? What’s wrong?” His voice was smooth and gentle. 

He was too busy thinking that his boy was younger than Nyx, too busy ordering his shadows out to search for the boy’s parents that he didn’t think twice about the lingering stench of blood clinging to the boy’s shoes or the faint pain beginning to grow behind his hazel eyes. 

The boy looked around furtively while wringing his grubby hands, and then leaned close to whisper in Azriel’s ear. His pale eyes narrowed in concentration.

“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a black tulip before.” 

“It’s a little secret of mine. You need to get the seed and soil just right.” The female brushed her waist length hair over her shoulder. The knotted strands had the thick, coarse texture of seafarer’s rope, as aged and wise as the rest of her. When you held the flower back out for her to take she shook her head. 

“For you, my dear. I have dozens more and I think it would attract more business if you wore it around today. A beautiful creature like you must get lots of attention.” 

You knew she was probably just saying these things to get your business, but you couldn’t help the spark of joy the compliments gave you. She helped tuck the flower into the braids of your hair and you felt the petals kiss the tips of your left ear. 

“Say.” The female leaned in like she was about to share a secret. “If you aren’t already taken, I have a niece who’d love to have a pretty girl like you on her arm.” 

Your blush deepened and you found yourself stammering, “That’s very kind, but I don't-I don’t-'' You glanced up the street. Azriel was kneeling on the ground, head bent down to a small child. You only caught the wisps of white, candy floss hair over Azriel’s broad shoulders. 

The female traced the path of your gaze and sighed. “Ahhhhh. I see.” There was a triumphant look in her eyes, even as she said, “Shame. But I’ll still give you my niece’s name if you don’t mind.” 

Your eyes snapped away from Azriel’s and you smiled in embarrassment. “Oh, we’re not—”

“Henna.” 

You stepped back. Panic froze the blood in your veins and you felt pinpricks traveling up your body, stabbing your heart and your mind. You could see her now. Her silver hair fanned out around her. Her broken body. Her bloodied eye socket, dark and empty. 

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” You had to have heard her incorrectly. Your head was pounding but you pushed back on your mental wards, shoring up your defenses until the feeling passed.

The female tilted her head to the side. Her eyes were as milky and glassy as pearls. “Does the name mean anything to you, dear?” 

You took another step back and the female stepped forward. Her eyes seemed to clear then and her brows furrowed in concentration and pain. She lunged forward, tearing away at your clothes and knocking the flowers of your hands as she begged. “Help me. The boy. He’s inside—HELP ME!” 

You surged back, crumpling to the ground under her heavy weight as she continued to pull and claw. 

She’d been restocking the back room when the dirty little boy and the tailor showed up in the alleyway. He still carried that bolt of fabric under the crook of his arm. He took out a knife, orange eyes flashing and slit his throat from ear to ear while the little boy watched. Smiling.

“LET GO!” You kicked out, ramming your knee up and into the soft flesh of her stomach like you’d seen Emerie do to Cassian, but you lacked her strength and technique. The female wheezed but didn’t let go, even as others came to try and pry her off of you. Their voices were frantic, trying to calm you down, but they were the voices and hands of strangers. 

“AZ!” You screamed, feeling the female sink her nails into your arm.

There was an ugly tearing sound and the cool touch of wind at your chest. Your robes were ripped apart under her rough hands and her eyes narrowed in on your belt and the chain that connected to the book. She bucked off a cherub-faced female with a blow to her nose and blood splashed over your cheek. 

“Help me. Please. Oh… oh gods.” She grabbed at the book, but the chain glowed iron hot in her hands. The smell of burning scorched your nose as the magic did what it was meant to do. Nothing could break that chain. Not unless you willed it. Not while you were still alive. 

“Oh gods. Oh gods help me. I’m so sorry.” There were tears streaming down her face, tracing the canyons and valleys of her skin. She threw off the fae clamoring around you both and ran with jerky, uncoordinated leaps back into her flower shop. She snatched the gardening shears off the windowsill where she’d been trimming her hydrangea bushes. She wept and shook her head, mouth struggling to open and scream as she held the shears up high and then drove them into her neck.

The scene took a long time to filter through the haze of panic and disbelief. 

“Az… Az… Az—AZRIEL!” Your shrill scream pierced through the air. You scrambled away from everyone. Stones shaved away the skin of your knees, your palms. The tattered silk of your robes trailed behind you. “Don’t touch me!” You shrieked at the male who tried grabbing your arm, soft voice whispering. 

He wasn’t the one you wanted. 

“AZRIEL!” 

The female dropped to her knees, hands clutching her throat as blood poured out in bubbly, gurgling spurts. The candy pink strips of her apron turned a wet, sticky black as she crawled back towards the door.

“Oh gods… Please,” she wheezed, wet and agonized, before collapsing face down on the floor. Motionless. 

You staggered to your feet twisting away from everyone crowding around you. 

“Don’t touch me. Don’t!” 

“Miss you must sit. Please—”

“Let me help—” 

“Are you hurt? What’s—” 

“Don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me. Don’t touch me!” 

Screams. The sound of doors slamming shut. Locks turning. Commanding barks calling for a healer. Calling for the High Lord and the High Lady. Calling for the Shadowsinger to help.

Azriel was still kneeling in front of that boy and no matter how many times you called his name and pushed through the crowd of people now rushing up and down the streets in a frenzy, he didn’t get up. He didn’t look at you. You may as well have not existed. 

You finally reached him, narrowly missing being run over by a satyr who seemed to have gotten the wrong impression about which direction to sprint in. Every clip clop of his hooves shot through you. 

“Az.” 

Why hadn’t… Why hadn’t he helped you? 

“Az.”

Why hadn’t he come when you called?

The Shadowsinger rose. One hand grabbed the hilt of Truth Teller and the malicious blade sang as it was unleashed. The shadows that normally hovered about him like mist were gone. They were all around you now, tugging you in the opposite direction towards the Sidra. They pleaded for you to run, but you couldn’t understand them.

Something was deeply, deeply wrong.

“Az.” You begged and grabbed hold of his hand. “Please. You’re scaring me.”

Truth Teller shot out and pain radiated up your arm as the blade cut neatly through your clothes and sliced open your skin. You tripped backward, landing with a thud on the street that rattled your bones. Your sleeve turned dark with blood. 

You whimpered, holding your ruined arm up to your chest. There was no feeling in Azriel’s eyes. No flicker of recognition. None of that warmth and kindness you were so accustomed to. Just a menacing, silent form towering over you and blocking out the sun. 

A pale boy stood by Azriel’s side with ice chip eyes and rectangular pupils. He grinned brightly and the stretch of his waxy cheeks was too tight. Too forced. He shouldn’t have been alive. He-he—

Andrian. 

You’d seen him in Henna’s memory. You’d heard the snap of his neck beneath Koschei’s hands. Even now the boy was bent awkwardly, his head left in a perpetual tilt that should have looked charming and inquisitive but instead made you want to retch.

Andrian smiled at you then plastered a practiced look of horror on his face before running away with tears streaming down his cheeks, shouting for his mother. A burly male grabbed his shoulders, alarm on his face as he hoisted Andrian into his arms and disappeared into the crowd. Because who wouldn’t stoop down to help a fragile little boy? Who would dare suspect that the daemati that had roamed the Day Court’s halls and slithered his way into Velaris was a child?

Azriel gripped you by the front of your ruined clothes, hosting you up in the air. Your feet kicked uselessly and grabbed onto Azriel’s arm, trying to alleviate the choking pressure of his hand so close to your neck. 

“No. Azriel please. It’s me,” you whimpered. “It’s me.”

There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. There and gone. So brief you wondered if you’d imagined it.

His left hand parted the tatters of your robes, and you flinched when his fingers brushed against your hip before settling on the chain that kept the book tied to you. 

Panic seized your soul. 

You’d been chipping away at the book’s secrets for months and you couldn’t let Azriel — couldn’t let Koschei — get his hands on it. Not without you knowing what it was that made Beth’s story so special.

You flung a hand out, feeling the leather of the book beneath your fingertips like it was your own skin. Your magic called out to the book, desperate and powerful and familiar, and the barriers it possessed to hide its secrets melted away at your beckoning. You poured every inch of your power into it even as Azriel’s lips turned down in an ugly frown that didn’t belong on his face. 

Your eyes turned to gold, bright as the sun as you basked in the knowledge flooding your mind with the force of a tsunami. You didn’t hold anything back. Not this time.

You were so lost in the book — in the emotions and memories wrapping around your mind, sharp and brighter than the light of a thousand suns — that you didn’t feel it when Azriel gripped that golden chain. The metal flared, a high-pitched ring piercing the air as it snapped in two, giving way to Azriel’s power. Nothing should have broken it. And yet there it was dangling from your waist.  

You did feel it when he broke your wrist. 

When he forced the book from your grasp. 

And then stabbed you in the stomach. 

Cassian and Nesta winnowed to the street and watched in horror as your body was dropped to the ground. Your head cracked the pavement, hands twitching palms up at your sides. 

Nesta shrieked. The sound was harrowing. The mourning, dying screams of an animal.  

She charged forward, twin blades flashing in her hands, and silver light shot out of her chest, crashing into Azriel’s shields and forcing him back twenty feet. He gritted his teeth. The rubber soles of his shoes skidded and burned. 

Cassian collapsed on his knees beside you, peeling off his leather jacket and wrapping it around your head and neck to keep it in place. 

“Shit.” His hands came away bloody. RHYS! FEYRE! He screamed into the corners of his mind, hoping they’d hear. GET HERE NOW! 

“Thanatos.” Your voice was weak.

“It’s Cass. Hey, keep your eyes on me ok.” He pressed his hands against your stomach, wings flared out to protect you from the cold burn of Nesta’s power as she went toe to toe with The Shadowsinger. Magic sizzled in the air, raising the hair on the back of Cassian’s neck like a lightning strike waiting to happen. Blood pooled over his hands, thick and dark. “Eyes open,” he commanded, “On me.”  

Your eyes were open, and glowing strangely, but you weren’t staring at Cassian. No. You were miles outside of your body. 

“The Bone Carver. That’s it.” 

“Eyes on me, Y/n. Eyes on me.” 

“Thanatos,” your hand twitched, “The Bone Carver. That’s how she did it.”

Nesta screamed, flying overhead in a burst of blue light that had her back slamming into one of the marketplace towers. The white marble cracked viciously and Nesta dropped to the ground, dazed and distracted as blood dripped out from her nose. 

“NESTA!” Cassian roared, eyes narrowing into dangerous slits as Azriel waited at the bottom of the street. 

The Shadowsinger muttered something dark and revolting beneath his breath. Ancient, powerful words that were whispered in his mind. He held onto the book in his hands as it lit up in flames and then blew the ashes into the wind that would carry them all the way to Andrian’s master. 

Koschei.

The call of her mate sharpened her senses and Nesta rolled onto her feet, calling her weapons back into her hands and leveling a glare at Azriel that would have killed a lesser male on the spot. 

She was Nesta fucking Archeron. 

Lady Death. 

Queen of Queens. 

And she would be damned if she let Azriel hurt her or anyone else.

“I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, Az,” she growled. 

She’d been holding back before. She’d been holding back a long while. But no more of that. The power she let out burst through Velaris with light brighter than a dying star, crackling with an energy that knocked Azriel off his feet and sent him crashing into the river wall with a sickening crack that shattered the bones in his arm, his leg, and his wings. 

Rhys appeared at his side, violet eyes wide open in shock. He could feel the magic suffocating his brother’s consciousness, burying him so deep there was almost nothing left but anger behind his whiskey-brown eyes. 

Rhysand grabbed the sides of his head, shoving his way into Azriel’s mind even while he fought back. Rhys flinched when one of Azriel’s knives nicked his temple, drawing blood that dripped down onto his velvet dinner jacket and floated on the dense material like dew drops. 

“Stop. This isn’t you, Az.” 

Azriel seethed, teeth bared and bloody. He spit in Rhysand’s face and he winced. Rhysand would never be able to forgive himself for what he did next. But someone had burrowed themselves into Azriel’s mind so thoroughly, so viciously, that in that moment, it was the only thing Rhys could think to do. 

Rhysand’s talons dragged down on Azriel’s mental walls so viciously he screamed as they were torn to pieces. He dug in with brutal efficiency. Reaching, tearing, clawing to catch the curl of power that had infected Azriel’s mind before it could do any more damage. He latched onto its slithery, silver body and wrenched it out of Azriel’s consciousness. 

When I find you. You’re as good as dead. Rhysand promised. 

The daemati slunk away with a giddiness that sent a shiver through The High Lord’s bones. 

Azriel slumped, weak and boneless, against his brother’s shoulder. Sweat beaded his brow and he shook, blinking the saltiness out of his eyes. He felt like he’d been beaten within an inch of his life. His bones were broken. His wings twisted. There was a raging headache that a hundred shots of vodka paled in comparison to. 

But it was his hands that horrified him most. Red and slippery. 

His breath shook.

He couldn’t… he couldn’t remember… what…. 

His eyes shot to Rhys, then up the street where he could make out Feyre, Cass, and Nesta huddled over your still body. The bond sat deep within him pulsing with terror and pain. 

“Rhys.” His voice broke. Rhysand angled his body to hide you from view, but it was too late. Azriel was panicking now, body trembling uncontrollably. “What happened?”

Rhysand said nothing. His eyes shined with horror. 

“What did I do? Rhys, what did I do?!” 

“Cass. Cassian, I’ve got her.” 

His hands were shaking. There was so much blood. The smell burned his nose and made him want to throw up his lunch. Feyre covered his hands with her own, peeling them away sticky and red from Y/n’s stomach. 

Light flooded out from Feyre’s palms, warm and lovely and Cassian and Nesta breathed a sigh of relief as the flow of red slowed and then stopped, flesh knitting itself back together. 

“It’s ok. You’ll be ok.” Nesta’s words were commanding as she held your neck and head still.

Your eyes searched the empty sky, seeing and unseeing. Then your hands shot up, grasping Feyre’s shoulders and digging in deep enough to leave bruises. Your eyes were wide, staring at her with an intensity that spoke of a thousand years. An unfathomable wealth of knowledge that should have crushed you beneath its weight. 

“Y/n it’s ok,” she murmured gently, pushing more power into your body, willing you to heal faster.

“Look. Feyre you need to look,” your voice was thick. Wet. Blood coated the inside of your mouth bitter and metallic. 

“I’m looking. Y/n, you hit your head. It’s going to be ok. You hear me? It’s going to be ok.” 

“You need to look,” you said once more.

You trailed a bloody, weak hand down Feyre’s arm and pulled her fingers up to your temple, tapping once. Twice. 

Without any more direction, she slipped into your mind and gasped.

Feyre stood in a pool of mist, white fingers reaching up her legs and splintering outwards before they changed direction and started to climb up into the darkness like trees. Or rather… like bookshelves. The mist formed stacks that disappeared into the distance, endless hallways and shelves that wound around each other. Chaotic and orderly at the same time. 

She could feel your presence beside her. Or rather she was you. In that moment she felt the raging winds of your power, hot and ravenous. It wrapped around you, tugging you to and fro like that uncontrollable lurch when you stand too close to the cliff’s edge. The call of the void.

She needed to answer that call the same way you did whenever you used your powers, because somewhere in the halls of your mind stood the knowledge you’d worked so hard to obtain. The truth of how it was Bethsevah Mordeigh was able to trap Koschei, and how to end it once and for all. 

Feyre let your magic pull her in the right direction. In the mist she stumbled upon the final memories you’d absorbed from the book before it had blown away in the wind.

Bethsevah wept, “No. No. No. I won’t,” shoving away the reed thin body that held her so close. Thanatos grasped her face in his pale hands, begging her to listen to him even as she shook her head frantically. “I won’t do it.” 

“You must. Bethsevah, you must.” His pitch black eyes winked with starlight… or maybe it was his tears. 

This world and its people had changed him. He could feel it in his bones. Something very deep and cruel within him had been twisted into something sacred. Something that toed the line of kindness. 

Koschei thought it was this element that made fae and humans beneath the three of them. They were supposed to be pure. Powerful. Handing out life and taking it away like the gods they were. But now Thanatos knew better. Now he knew exactly what it was that made Koschei and Stryga worse than even him — they would never be able to care for anyone. Not the way he cared for Bethsevah. Not the way he cared for the world she loved. 

“I won’t do it,” she growled.

“Then they’ll die,” he said, with a tone of finality that could only belong to a death god. “Everyone. Everyone you love. Everyone you care about. I know my brother. Koschei craves attention and devotion above all else. He won’t let you worship your Mother. He won’t stop until you all kneel or until you’re ashes in the wind. Beth—” He wrenched her hands back from where she covered her eyes, refusing to even look at him. 

He tucked his crooked finger beneath her chin, coaxing her gaze up. Together they were storm clouds blanketing an eternal night. A lightning strike — brief and chaotic and electrifying. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” she whispered, steel laced in her soft voice, “You don’t know what you’re offering.” 

He smiled, sad and simple. “I know exactly what I’m offering up.”

“Once I lock you in The Prison, I won’t be able to let you out. No one will. You’ll be trapped there for eternity.” She shivered, closing her eyes. She wouldn’t wish that fate upon her worst enemy, but her mate? She shook her head. 

“I know.” 

“No, you—”

“I have seen the first fall of snow on a new world. I have seen entire cities leveled to dust with no survivors. I’ve lived thousands of years. I understand.”

“We’ll find a way. Kosch—” 

“Remember what I told you,” he whispered, “Back at the cabin? You were made to ruin me, Beth. And I will let you do it a million times over. Without hesitation.” 

You and Feyre felt Beth’s pain as acutely as if you shared the same heart.

“I wish she hadn’t done it,” Beth whispered, “I wish the Mother had never created me to be your mate.” 

“I don’t.” Thanatos leaned his forehead against Beth’s and got lost in her. “There is no other way, Bethsevah.” He kept saying her name, like just speaking the word and feeling the shapes it took in his mouth would prolong the time they had together. Would tie them together more surely than the bond that burned in their chests.

She felt the battleground slip beneath her feet and no amount of power, no amount of willpower, could change it. 

He brushed back her hair and trailed one of his slender fingers down the curve of her cheek ending one teardrop’s race to her chin. “Mating bonds are powerful things, Beth. Your magic — your blood — and yours alone will be able to cut through my defenses and sever me from my power. I want you to take it and lock me away. Once my magic is yours, Stryga won’t be able to see you coming and you’ll be able to take her power as well. So long as you leave Koschei for last it may just be enough power to rid him from this earth once and for all.” 

“You’d have me do this. Destroy you and your family. This is what you want?”

Thanatos hesitated. “I am not a good male. But this… this will have to be enough. This is what I want, Bethsevah. For you and your family to live. To be happy and safe.”

“I won’t be happy, “ she said, eyes now flat and dull as the silver coins they placed over the dead, “I won’t take anyone else.”

“I want you to,” he begged, “I want you to marry and to have children. I want you to grow your family so that one day, if I ever do make it out of that Prison, I’ll still see pieces and memories of you roaming this earth. That’s all I want, Bethsevah, and it’s already more than I deserve.” 

“I’ll find a way,” Beth promised. “I’ll find a way to get you out. I swear it.” 

“Don’t make any bargains with me.” He smiled sadly, thumb wiping away at her cheeks, “That’s what got us into this mess.”

Finally she laughed, just a little. “I don’t regret it.” 

“Neither do I.”

The memory froze. A moment in time trapped like a beetle in amber.

A hand grabbed Feyre by her shoulders and swung her around. You stood there cloaked in pale, golden light, your eyes shining like copper coins. When you opened your mouth, you spoke in Beth’s voice.

Thanatos told me that magic runs in blood — familiar, same. But mates are different. Powerful. Their magic can protect one another. Identify one another across space and across time. But they can also turn on each other viciously. A lock and a key. Madness and salvation.

What I could destroy in Thanatos, I stood a chance at destroying in his siblings.

Your face fell, hauntingly beautiful in the glow of your powers. 

But I couldn’t do it. Not in the way he asked. I took his power. I locked him in that Prison. I bound Stryga to her cabin in the woods. But I didn’t kill Koschei when I should have. When the power of three gods was coursing through my veins and stripping me down to my bones, when I had enough light within me to see the birth and death of stars and the face of the Mother, I couldn’t do it. 

I thought I would be capable of destroying Koschei and freeing Thanatos, but I couldn’t do either. I had only enough sanity left to take that power and bury it somewhere Koschei couldn’t touch. To trap him on the lake where he can live in madness knowing his magic is so close by and yet locked away. Unreachable. 

I’ve done my part. I’ve had my children. I’ve left my mark on the world, great and terrible as it is. If you’re reading this, my daughters, do what I could not. Take the power in the lake and destroy him. It will open for you, and only you. My power. My blood. 

And if you have any love for me at all, find a way to release Thanatos. That is what I ask of you.

Bethsevah’s calls had never been answered, at least not by her children. You knew this much in your heart. Thanatos — The Bone Carver — had freed himself thousands of years later only to die beneath the Cauldron’s power. 

You whispered a silent prayer to the Mother. You hoped the Bone Carver was at peace now. Now that he must be with his Beth. 

Azriel was screaming your name, broken cries cutting through the quiet of the marketplace. You’d never thought him capable of such a wretched noise. 

The High Lady sat shock still above you with tears streaming down her face. Grey eyes glistening.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

I apologize if you thought I'd forgotten about the plot with Koschei and was just writing cute, fluffy scenes between our favorite Librarian and our favorite Batboy. But you also should've remembered that I burned this girl's house down and had her kill a another character in self defense so... this was coming... sorry...

This is by far the chapter I've been most nervous about posting because it's where I start to tie together all the weird loose threads that have been accumulating throughout this story so I am very much open to feedback on how I can do things better and on how I can make things clearer moving forward. Or! If you thought I did a good job and are intrigued, I'd appreciate it if you let me know that too!

But anyway thanks for reading 😅.

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I absolutely love your page and all of your poly!marauders writing! Could I request a poly!marauders where they’re all flirting with r (like pre relationship) and because she’s never really been noticed/flirted with before she thinks they’re kind of making fun of her like it’s a big joke. Then of course she finds out that’s not the case

Thanks for requesting babe, and thanks for reading! I had no idea how long this had become until I checked the wordcount just now haha, and I feel like it got a bit awkward in some places but I hope you enjoy it :)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.8k

As Friday nights go, this one is pretty typical. You’d arrived at the party with all of your friends, and one by one, they’d been pulled away by significant others, flirty strangers, or potential hookups. Now it’s just you, sitting on the couch and trying not to look awkward as the couple on the opposite end endeavors to swallow each other whole. 

“Hey there, gorgeous,” a familiar voice drawls, and Sirius Black sits down next to you. “Having a good time?”

You force a smile, not wanting to insult the party most likely being thrown by Gryffindor’s golden boys. “Yup.” 

“Doesn’t look like it,” he says, not unsympathetically, then nudges the curled-up form behind him. “Moony, you were really going to let this pretty thing sit here all by herself without speaking to her?”

The book they’re holding lowers, revealing Remus Lupin. His eyes start to roll as if it’s an automatic response to Sirius’ interruption, but then they fall on you. “Oh.” He blinks. “Sorry, love, I didn’t see you there.” 

You flush, sheepish and a bit resentful of being party to Sirius’ reprimand, however teasing it might be. You know Remus from the couple of classes you’ve had together, but you wouldn’t expect him to talk to you outside of those contexts. Speaking to someone that’s obligated is so much worse than speaking to no one at all. “It’s fine,” you say quietly, feeling unbearably awkward. 

“See? She’s too sweet to even hold you accountable for it,” Sirius tuts, shaking his head. “I’m sorry about him, dollface. Can I get you a drink?”

“I, um...” You look down at your empty cup, long since drained. “Sure, thanks.” 

He winks. “Be right back.” 

You expect Remus to go back to his book as Sirius struts off, but he folds the corner of his page, setting it down. 

“I really didn’t mean to ignore you,” he says, looking painfully apologetic. “How are your classes this year?”

You give him your most reassuring smile. “They’re good, thanks. And I didn’t think you were ignoring me.” You cringe. “Sorry Sirius made you put away your book on my account.” 

He looks at you with amber eyes full of kindness. “I don’t mind.” 

It’s a conscious effort to quell the ruckus in your stomach. You’d harbored a tiny, secret crush on Remus when you’d had classes together last year, and this is exactly why. He just seemed like such a sweetheart. Soft-spoken but brilliant, he never raised his hand to answer questions but always scored high on assignments, and you’d once caught him feeding answers to the girl next to him so she could win points for her house. You’d become enthralled with the way his smile would tug gently at the scars on his face, making them glint silver in the light that shone through the classroom windows, and how his eyes sparked with quiet amusement even when he wasn’t laughing.

The silence between you is stretching too long. You fumble for something to continue the conversation. “I like your sweater,” you say dumbly. 

“Yeah?” He smiles, scars flashing. “Thanks, lovely.” He lets his gaze roam over you for a moment, and you try not to squirm. “Do you want it? It’s a bit cold in here.” 

You look down, surprised to discover goose bumps covering your arms. “That’s alright,” you say, but Remus is already shrugging off his sweater, revealing the plain t-shirt underneath. “Remus, really, I’m fine.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists, holding the sweater out to you and raising his eyebrows when you won’t take it. “If you don’t put it on, then neither of us will have it.” 

You watch him for a moment, but Remus doesn’t waver. You take it, giving him a look that you hope conveys both admonishment and apology. “Thank you.” 

“No problem,” he replies as you shrug it on. “Considering that this is a school of magic, it does a pretty poor job of regulating its temperature during the winter, don’t you think? Couldn’t let you just sit here and freeze, sweetheart. Sirius would kill me when he got back.” 

You pull Remus’ sleeves over your cold fingers, using the movement to avoid eye contact as your face heats. The way he’s talking to you, the pet names, it’s all so strange. You don’t get it. 

“Not to be rude,” Remus says before you can go deeper into your musings, “but I thought I saw you come in with a bunch of other girls. Where’d they all go?”

Ah. He’s talking to you because he likes one of your friends. “Oh.” You wave your hand about vaguely. “Here and there, pulled aside by various prospects. I’m sure you can find some of them if you go looking.” 

“But they left you by yourself?” He seems to disregard your friends’ whereabouts, his eyebrows coming together just a bit. “That’s not very nice. Lucky for us, though, I suppose.” 

You tilt your head, not quite sure what he means, but then Sirius returns, James Potter in tow. 

“Told you,” Sirius says as he passes you your drink, hand lingering on yours a second too long. James gives one to Remus. “She’s miserable.” 

“Can’t have that,” James replies agreeably, looking for somewhere to sit. His eyes fall on the couple behind you and he leans close to your ear. “Merlin, they’re really going at it, aren’t they?”

You laugh, and he grins at you like that was his aim all along. Meanwhile, Sirius has devised a solution to the problem of seating, making himself comfortable almost entirely in Remus’ lap. He gestures for you to come closer. You comply tentatively, scooting a couple feet towards the two of them. 

“Don’t be shy.” Sirius reaches out and grips your waist, hauling you closer until you’re pressed up against Remus’ leg and Sirius’ side, his arm remaining snugly around your waist. “We don’t bite. Unless you’re into that, of course.” 

“Pads.” Remus’ voice is stern, softened for your benefit. “Take it easy.” 

“Oh, come on,” Sirius scoffs. “I saw you putting the moves on her from over by the punch. You don’t get to have all the fun.” 

Putting the moves on you? Sirius almost makes it sound like Remus had been…flirting. Oh. You suppose maybe he had. But intentionally? Really? Sirius Black will flirt with anything, but Remus is a different story.

It must be a part of some bit they’re all doing, you realize. They are pranksters. Sirius was probably bored and in need of entertainment, and there you were, sitting all by yourself. Practically begging to be the object of his amusement. And then he’d enlisted Remus to go along with it. They’re probably all going to go back to their dorm tonight and laugh about how easily you’d fallen for it. Your face burns.

James has settled into the ample space you’ve made on the couch, allowing you a bit more room that Sirius seems willing to. “You alright, lovely? I’m sorry you haven’t been having a very good time.”

You look at him, finding nothing but sincerity in his warm brown eyes. You don’t suppose he would have been able to get away with so much if he weren’t a good actor. The last thing you’re going to do is give them more to laugh about by making a scene. “No, I’m fine. It’s a good party.” 

“Yeah?” James cocks his head like a puppy. “Well, that’s good, I guess. How’d you end up by yourself though, sweetheart?”

Remus answers for you. “Her friends left her.” 

“They’ll come back eventually,” you say hastily, then realize how pathetic that sounds. It’s all you can do not to shrink in on yourself. 

“I’m sure they are,” James says, and try as you might, you can detect no sarcasm in his tone, “but it’s still not a very considerate thing for friends to do. You seem like excellent company.” 

You scoff, taking a long sip of your drink. “Apparently not.” 

“You are,” Sirius says casually, looking at you over the rim of his cup. “I mean, I’ve only been around you for a little while, but it’s been a delightful experience for me. And Moony seems to like talking to you. That’s high praise.” 

Remus elbows Sirius but gives you one of his soft, kind looks, and it’s too much. It’s all too much. You feel like you’re being eaten alive by shame at how much you’re enjoying their attention, even if it’s all for show. 

“I have an idea,” James says, knee bumping into yours amicably. “We were going to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow to study. Would you come with? We could grab lunch together and convince you of how pleasant you are to have around.” 

You scoff. This charade has gone too far. “Yeah, right. What time should I meet you, at nine in the great hall, where everyone will be watching?” 

Who gets off on this anyway? Flirting is one thing, but all this faux kindness, just to humiliate you? It’s a cruelness beyond what you thought them capable of. 

James hesitates at your tone. “Um, yeah. Nine is good, if that works for you.”

You shake your head, crossing your arms. Sirius gets the message, removing his hand from around your waist. “This isn’t funny.” 

“It’s not supposed to be.” James looks wounded, and Remus leans forward, a concerned set to his brows. “Hey, what’s going through your head?” he asks, all concerned tenderness. 

You look between them, angry and, if you’re being honest with yourself, very hurt. “This is a prank, right? Because I was sitting alone and you were bored? Well, I don’t think it’s funny.” 

“Darling,” Remus breathes, reaching out as if to touch you but hesitating with his hand hovering just above your shoulder, “no one’s pranking you.”

Sirius shakes his head. “That’s not…we would never do something like that, and I’m sorry you think we would. Let me be clear: we want to go on a date with you tomorrow. Obviously you don’t have to, but we’d love it if you came.” 

You feel your eyebrows scrunch up, trying to right your worldview. You feel like you have whiplash. “Wait, are you serious?”

He grins, and it’s half sheepish, half wolfish. “That’s me.” 

You giggle a bit at that, and Remus works up the courage to let his hand land on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “No jokes or catches, lovely girl. I promise.” 

You send him a small smile before turning to James, who still looks like he’s had the wind knocked out of him. “I’m really sorry I accused you guys of that,” you say, guilt replacing shame at the feast of your insides. “I just…I’ve never had someone…notice me in that way before. I thought it was a joke.” 

James’ smile still bears some leftover unease, but there’s no reproach in it. “That’s alright, angel,” he says, earnest as he had been all along. “I’m sorry you thought we didn’t mean it. Let us prove it, yeah? Tomorrow?”

You beam at him, a frisson of excitement going through you. “Yeah, tomorrow.”