#glancing over at my tests and not let them see? what in supposed to leave them out to die?

[cloudystevie]

scary my god you're divine

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pairing || bucky barnes x f!reader

word count || 3235

summary || he would do anything for you.

warnings || smut! dom! bucky x sub! reader, possessive! bucky, a little bit of subspace, choking, little bit of exhibitionism kink, minor pain play, daddy kink (only three times okay i'm sorry i am who i am), degradation, unprotected sex

author's note || 18+ ONLY. not proofread yet. my very first request in a very long time! Anonymous asked: Could you write a Dombucky x Subreader? And if you wouldn't mind jealous!bucky, already established relationship and his dog tags on reader? hope you enjoy nonnie! as always feel free to send in requests or any asks! feel free to reblog! enjoy!

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Today, a select few from the team are supposed to train the new agents, preparing them for the physical aspect of being an agent. Some made it fun or tolerable, like Steve and Sam, who were born leaders and charismatic. Natasha and Wanda enjoyed supervising the sparring sessions. Tony and Bruce enjoyed using technology to throw new obstacles at the agents.

Sometimes literally.

Unfortunately, your grumpy boyfriend, Bucky, just did not find any joy in training days. He didn’t like giving out instructions and praise unless it was you who was under him. He didn’t like supervising weak punches and miscalculated throws. And technology was just a straight-up no for him.

Usually, he could make himself useful with Steve, throwing out no-nonsense orders without making himself a massive part of the effort.

You were taking the elevator down to the gym floor. Fury had instructed you to check everything out and ensure everything went according to the itinerary. 

The doors open, and you glance around to ensure no immediate problems before letting your gaze fall on Bucky; his eyes are already on you. You offer him a bright smile, which he returns with a smirk, and your stomach flutters like it does every time you see him. You’re about 7 feet away from your boyfriend before you feel a hand on your lower back. You startle and turn around to face the newest agent. He has quickly climbed through all of SHIELD’s tests and proven himself to be of great value. He chatted you up last week at Tony’s charity ball, and you tried to let him down gently since you were already happily taken. Bucky was on a mission that day, and you didn’t want to add to his mental load by telling him about some punk who wouldn’t leave you alone.

Apparently, said punk, cannot take no for an answer.

“Back for more, cutie? You finally break up with your imaginary boyfriend?” Marcus teases, but really, he sounds more taunting than playful. You glance over your shoulder as you move away from his grip, and you already see Bucky glaring directly at the spot where Marcus’ hand was on your back. The stopwatch he was holding in his flesh hand shatters, and he doesn’t even flinch when Steve and Sam apologize for him, asking what was wrong as discreetly as they could but one glance over to where you were uncomfortably held hostage by the lean brunet man told them everything they needed to know. 

Bucky cracks his neck, rolling his shoulders up as he stalks towards you two. His looming presence is felt before you can see him in your peripheral vision. You glance up at him and take an instinctive step back toward his hulking body, breathing a sigh of relief because Marcus has to let up now.

He doesn’t.

“Oh hey, Sergeant Barnes, if you don’t mind I’m actually trying to talk to this chick so…” 

The way he talks about you as if you’re not right there makes you physically recoil. Bucky’s eyes harden; he’s not even squaring up to his full stature, and he already easily dwarfs Marcus. Bucky takes a step forward, and everyone in the room comes to a standstill. Everyone shuddering at the sheer anger rolling off of Bucky and the stupidity of Marcus.

Marcus huffs out a laugh. Maybe he gets a little pasty when he’s nervous because he seems to be digging himself a deeper hole when he says something about how many girls fall at his feet and Sarge, you've got to calm down. She’s not worth all that.

In an instant, Steve and Sam command everyone to return to their tasks, and the room begins to bustle again, but with a specific weary energy that was not there before. The very next second, Marcus is picked up by the collar of his black t-shirt and slammed against the wall, the room rattling with the force of it as all the recruits try to ignore the spectacle before them. 

“Touch her again, and I will kill you,” Bucky promises. “If you look at her, I will kill you. If you even think about her, I will fucking kill you. Understand?” His voice is a low grumble, the words resounding and reverberating as you watch Marcus sputter out panicked apologies and his flailing body while Bucky still looks so self-assured and composed. It's as if he’s not scaring a man to death while simultaneously making you drool.

You call out Bucky’s name, and he looks at you over his shoulder, pinning Marcus with one final glare and shove before letting him go as the agent does the walk of shame to the washroom. It’s almost like you’re frozen in your spot. You’ve seen Bucky get aggressive on missions before, but watching him be so willing to defend you, stand up for you when you couldn’t, not even hesitating for a second when he threatened to kill for you. And the worst part is, you were confident he was dead serious. 

Even worse, something about the principle of the situation was really doing it for you.

On the outside, it might have seemed like you were in shock or panic due to the agents’ actions, so Bucky whisked you away to a private interrogation room on the floor above the gym. The whole elevator ride there, his hand is protectively on your lower back, and you just watch the rigid set of his jaw and the anger and possessiveness written all over his features with unmistakable doe eyes. The air in the elevator is thick, and neither of you says a word. Before you know it, Bucky is easily lifting you and placing you on the metal table in the middle of the dull room, and his eyes are scanning yours for any hint of panic or if you’re upset. His hands cup your face gently, the cool vibranium soothing against your heated skin, and he finally breaks the silence. “You’ve gotta say something, baby. Are you okay? After this, that idiot’s going to be gone. I’m sorry if seeing me like that upset you, sweetheart-” Your rushed words cut off his ramble, “I thought that was really hot.” You say quietly and watch as Bucky’s face contorts from one of worry to one of confusion. 

“The way you stood up for me, you were so nonchalant about killing for me. I can’t lie, James. That kind of did something for me.” You continue, biting your lip and scanning him for his reaction, hoping he didn’t take your words in the wrong way. 

He’s silent for a moment. His chest moving steadily with each breath against yours. 

The next moment, his lips are pressed against yours, and you let a surprised squeak out. Your mouth slots open when his wandering hands roughly squeeze your thigh through your satin pants, getting dangerously close to the heat pulsing between your thighs. Taking advantage of your open mouth, Bucky slips his tongue inside your mouth and you buck your hips to seek some friction against your needy core. The kiss is passionate and renders your breathless as he consumes all of your senses. All you can think, see, smell, hear, and feel is James. 

His name falls from your lips in a gasp, you reluctantly pull away to catch your breath, letting your head lull to the side when he peppers sloppy kisses all over your jaw, trailing down your neck and biting and licking on your sweet spot. You swat at his firm bicep, “You’re gonna leave a mark James, stop it.” Your attempt at scolding him is weak, even to your own ears.

You feel Bucky smirk against your sensitive neck, his wandering hands cupping your ass and shamelessly groping and swatting at you. “Oh really? That’s too bad baby. Gonna be a pain to cover up.” He remarks, voice dripping in cockiness.

You scoff and bite back a whimper when he grinds his undoubtedly hard length against your clothed center. Your hands shoot out to stabilize yourself by holding onto his shoulders, a shiver crawling up your spine when a particularly slow grind nudges your aching clit. “You’re such a bad influence you know that?” Your voice lacks any real conviction. Your hips move in tandem with his, both of you sharing messy kisses and your bodies thrumming with lust and pent up energy. 

“I’ll kill anyone who even thinks about looking at you.” Bucky says assuredly, and you can’t help the mewl that escapes your lips at his words. Your hands shakily going to undo his black jeans as he messily pulls yours pants down, being considerate enough not to rip them considering there was still a little more than an hour until the SHIELD training day was over. “Bucky I need you, need you to please-” Your voice is shaky and desperate, as you struggle to unbutton his jeans. He shushes you gently, cooing at you sweetly as he easily unbuttons his jeans, just enough for you to promptly pull out his erect cock. Your mouth practically waters at his length and girth, and you spit onto your hand and begin rubbing his length, swiping your thumb gently over the tip making him hiss and push his hips into your hand. 

You bite your lip and look up at him through hooded eyes, and he slaps your hand away before tearing your panties in half, the top half covering your swollen clit and the bottom scrap of fabric falling limply against the cool table. You barely have time to scold him for ripping your panties before he’s shoving his whole length inside you in one fluid thrust. Your back arches, your legs wrapping around his waist as your buddy erupts in a shiver, a short scream escaping your lips. He swallows the noise with his mouth pressed against yours as he grunts into your mouth, waiting only a short second before he begins to thrust inside you. His thrusts are slow but hard, making the heavy metal table scrape against the floor with the force of each pass of his hips into yours. 

“You’re mine, mine to touch. Mine to have. Mine to take care of.” Bucky grunts out, his movements picking up in pace as emotion swirls in his voice, his metal hand covering your neck, forcing you to stay upright in a position that allowed you to feel all of him. You sob out, digging your nails into his bicep and nodding your head, already succumbing to that foggy feeling you felt when you were so close to your boyfriend. He tuts at you, swatting your face with his flesh hand with enough force to make you moan out and clench around his length. 

“Nuh-uh sweetheart, you’re not going dumb on me that quick. Use your words, tell me you’re mine. Tell me I’m yours.” His voice is commanding and you force yourself to look at him, pulling on his shirt and tugging on his dog tugs to get him closer, your foreheads pressing against each other as his thrusts continue to get faster. “I’m yours James, only yours. You’re only mine. No one else. Just you.” Your words are slurred as he groans out a good girl in approval and decides that he wants your shirt off. He skillfully manages to slip your navy blue long-sleeve off and unhooks your bra in one motion, freeing your tits to the cold air of the room, forcing the buds into sensitive peaks which Bucky is quick to take advantage of. His hands squeeze and pull at your tits, tugging and pinching cruelly at your nipples making you whine. 

Your bodies are pressed so close to one another, each pull of his hips making his pelvis rub against your aching clit, stray tears streaming down your face and your chest heaving and pushed up against Bucky.

If anyone were to walk in right now the picture would be nothing short of debauched. You completely bare on the table, Bucky completely clothed. Getting absolutely plowed if the screech of the metal against the floor was anything to go by. Your moans get higher in pitch and volume making Bucky grunt, another swat to your cheek making your brain foggy. “Shut the fuck up slut. You want everyone to see you getting fucked like the bitch in heat you are?” But if your moans and increasing wetness are anything to go by, yes, a deep and dark part of you does want that. Bucky laughs at you, shaking his head in faux disbelief and you wrap your lips around his dog tags, enjoying the soothing sensation brought by the cool metal. Bucky looks down at your lips wrapped around the dog tags he never seemed to take off and he let out a wrecked sound. You clench around him at the sound making his rhythm falter.

Before you can even process the loss of his proximity, your back is flat against the table and his dog tags are now around your neck, landing on your chest and glimmering in the dull fluorescent lighting of the room. Bucky slams himself back inside of you, the unmistakable squelch of your wetness filling up the room alongside both of your noises of pleasure. Your high-pitched and pornographic mewls and his low grunts and deep groans. You cry out his name as your head lulls to the side, eyes shutting in bliss as your fingers move to give your aching clit some attention. But Bucky lets out a disappointed grunt, grabbing your jaw in his hand and forcing you to maintain eye contact. “Look away from me again and I won’t let you cum for a fucking week stupid baby.” Bucky threatens. “You better fucking pay attention to who’s fucking you dumb. No need to close your eyes and imagine when you’ve got the real thing right here.”

Each of his words ignites a newfound purpose in Bucky as he pounds into you impossibly harder, his hand swatting against your cheek again and wrapping around your neck, keeping you in place to take all of his thrusts. He knows you always struggle to keep your eyes open and you don’t doubt that he will follow through on his threat. He has always enjoyed testing your weakness and pushing your limits. 

“Feels s’good. You’re so big Jamie. S’big, so good s’too good.” Your words are breathy and frail, your fingers rubbing quick circles around your aching button. A mean laugh rumbles in his chest as he watches the way his dog tags move with your tits, the sight is intoxicating and fuels Bucky to continue his torment. “There she is my dumb little baby. Couldn’t help yourself huh? Can’t help the way your brain goes quiet when I have my dick inside you.” His words should be humiliating but they only spur you on, your fingers on the verge of cramping but the jolts of pleasure are so overwhelming you can’t stop. “Jus’ need you. Need you to make it better. ‘M yours Daddy, only yours.” 

“That’s it baby, I know, I know it feels so good huh. Daddy’s here baby, Daddy’s gonna take care of his needy baby.” Bucky’s head falls back on a moan when you clench around him, your walls pulsing and a ring of cream forming around the base of his cock. Your orgasm was surely just a few moments away and Bucky’s lips curled up in a smirk.

He folds your legs at the knee, sliding you closer to him with the pressure he has on your throat, the angle making him rub against your sweet spot with each deliriously pleasurable thrust. You squeal out his name, getting even louder than before and he shoves his dog tags into your mouth, muffling your garble out unintelligeble pleads to cum. With one hand Bucky squeezes your throat, and with the other he pinches at your nipples, tugging the sensitive flesh before trailing his hand down your body and slapping your hand away from your clit, he moves his lips down to your ears, licking up your earlobe before whispering his command, “Cum. Cum right fucking now or you don’t get to cum at all.” His fingers pinch your clit and the sudden burst of pain has you tensing your legs up, squealing out nonsense around the dog tags in your mouth and reaching your peak. Your body shakes against the table as Bucky pounds you through your high, his words of encouragement falling on deaf ears as you teeter between consciousness and unconsciouness. His body overwhelming your mind and soul. 

His fingers release your throat and you look up at him with watery eyes, bringing him down to rest your foreheads against each other as he nears his own high. Your lips are pressing against each other, “There isn’t a single person in the world I wouldn’t kill for you. I would do anything for you. You are everything to me.” Bucky murmurs in a pussy-drunk stupor. But the words are true, he has said them to you before and will say them a thousand times again. You taught him how to live again, not just survive. 

A broken cry falls from your lips from sensitivity and Bucky’s impassioned thrusts turn sloppy as he moans out your name, pulling you impossibly closer as he fills you with his cum. At the feeling of being completely stuffed by him, your second release is triggered and you shake in his hold as he comes down from his high. He presses lazy kisses against your lips and rubs his hands soothingly up and down your body, easing you out of your submissive state. He gently pulls himself out, using the handkerchief he carries around to wipe your thighs clean, but letting his cum keep your pussy messy. He quickly wipes himself off and helps you dress yourself. 

A few more giggly kisses and you’re pretty much ready to go back down to the gym. Just in time to catch the final thing on today’s agenda: sparring. Bucky walks one step behind you, his hand back again on your lower back protectively as a path is cleared to the front of the ring where your friends are supervising Marcus and another recruit preparing for the second round of their match. Natasha and Wanda offer you knowing smirks and you roll your eyes with heat creeping up cheeks as you shyly glance up at Bucky through your eyelashes to find him already looking at you with a stupid smile. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek and watches with intent as Steve and Sam coach their respective agents. 

“Looking strong, Marcus!” Bucky calls out and you swat his chest making him laugh. Marcus takes one look at you, Bucky’s dog tags now around your neck and falling on your shirt, teeth imprints on your neck, and swollen lips. Poor Marcus falters, and the other recruit takes advantage of his distraction and easily tackles him to the ground, winning the second round. Bucky takes a single step closer to the ring where Sam is helping Marcus up, and the smirk on your arrogant boyfriend’s face is adorable. “Better luck next time buddy,” he says supportively. Sam flicks Bucky in the forehead, unable to hide the smile on his face, “Dumbass.”

[rafeandonlyrafe]

orange peel theory (dark! and soft!rafe)

words: 1k (about 500 words each)

warnings: name calling, suggestive

orange peel theory: girlfriends ask their boyfriend to peel an orange for them, as a test to see if they are willing to help with small tasks that the girlfriend can do herself

dark

you quickly set your phone in a discreet spot, already recording as you move back to your chair, pretending to be reading your book as rafe walks in.

“what are you doing?” rafe questions, looking at you with concern, not sure if he’s ever seen you read before.

“nothing.” you shake your head, shutting the book and setting it down, glancing at your phone to make sure it is still recording. “how was work?”

“fucking tiring. dealing with idiots all day.” rafe spits the words out before toeing his shoes off and leaving them in the center of the room.

“im sorry.” you pout, standing up as rafe takes a seat on the edge of the bed. you move to stand in between his thighs, pressing a kiss to his lips. he sighs with satisfaction, wrapping his hands around the back of your thighs, rubbing over them, tucking his fingertips under your shorts to feel your bare skin.

“can you get me an orange rafe? i’m craving one.” you move away from him, setting back on your chair to make sure you are centered in the camera.

rafe gives you a confused look but nods, mainly because he also needs to get a glass of water for himself. he re-enters the room, tossing the orange towards you, which you catch easily.

“thanks.” you smile as rafe takes a sip of water and then sets it on the nightstand. “can you peel it for me though babe?”

“what?” he questions, moving to kneel between your legs, an amused look on his face. “my stupid little slut not able to peel it on her own? too much of a baby?” “rafey.” you whine as he takes the orange out of your hand, unpeeling it and tossing the peel into the trash. he pulls a piece and then hovers it in front of your mouth.

“open up whore, i know how much you love to do that.” rafe taunts you before you lean forward, taking the slice of orange into your mouth and pulling it out of his fingers, letting the citrusy taste flood your mouth.

“you are so mean, this was supposed to be for tiktok.” you point out your phone, making rafe turn to look at the screen opened and recording.

“what?”

“for tiktok, its some trend about asking your boyfriend to peel an orange for you to see if he will do small tasks for you, and you totally failed!” you whine, stamping your feet on the ground in annoyance.

“but i peeled the orange for you.” rafe says with confusion.

“while also calling me a stupid whore!” you stand up, grabbing your phone and stopping the recording, knowing you won’t put it on tiktok.

“are you not my dumb little slut?” rafe asks, standing and stepping close to you, hovering over with his intimidating height.

“i mean i am, but-”

“exactly.” rafe cuts you off, pressing his lips against yours as he backs you up towards the bed.

soft

you quickly set your phone in a discreet spot, already recording as you move back to your chair, pretending to be reading your book as rafe walks in.

“hey baby.” rafe leans down and gives you a kiss on the top of your head, which you quickly tilt up to have him press a second one to your lips.

“how was work?” you ask, setting your book to the side, glancing at your phone to make sure its still recording.

“exhausting.” rafe sighs, rubbing his hand over his face, making you pout.

“im sorry bubs.” you comment as he sits down on the bed to take his work shoes off. 

“no big deal. how was your day?” rafe asks.

“good…” you shrug. you usually go into more detail, and rafe knows it, so he sits quietly, waiting for you to continue. “but i’m actually really hungry.” you blurt out, figuring you shouldn’t delay any longer as you look at your phone again, lucky that rafe doesn’t follow your line of sight.

“what are you hungry for? we can order delivery.” rafe knows you like to cook, but he also doesn’t force it on you, leaving the option to get takeout open whenever you are tired or simply don’t feel like cooking.

“i actually just want an orange.” you shrug.

“thats not really food, darling, but okay.” rafe stands, setting his shoes on the rack next to the door before heading out of the bedroom towards the kitchen.

you can’t help smiling at the camera as you wait, covering your mouth as rafe reenters, already knowing that he’s going to pass the test.

“here ya go.” rafe hands you a bowl instead of an orange, making your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, before you take it and realize that the orange is already peeled and pulled apart, ready for you to enjoy.

“raaafe.” you whine.

“what?” rafe kneels down in front of your chair, placing his hands on your knees.

“i wanted a whole orange.” you complain, pouting your lower lip out as rafe looks at you in complete confusion.

“why, were you gonna eat the peel or something?” rafe laughs.

“no, its supposed to be a thing for tiktok.” you point towards your phone, which takes rafe a second to see from its hidden position. “you’re supposed to bring me an orange and i ask you to peel it to see if you’ll help me with a small task.”

“should i bring you back a whole orange then so you can ask?” rafe questions.

“no, i don’t even really want an orange to be honest.” you admit. rafe looks down into the bowl, taking a piece and putting it into his mouth, chewing it up. 

“what do you want then honey?”

“can you get me a banana?” you tilt your head to the side. rafe nods, grabbing the bowl from your lap before heading back to the kitchen.

you grab your phone and set it closer. “he’s just too good of a boyfriend.” you sigh as rafe comes back through the door, handing you a banana.

you smile at him in thanks, taking it out of his hand before he leans to press a kiss to your cheek, glancing at the camera, still recording when you realize how you can still test the theory.

“peel it for me babe?”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @rafecamerongirl @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie

[slytherinshua]

FATAL FLAW

genre. rivals to lovers. fluff. warnings. competitive/perfectionist reader. both reader and taesan dance competitively. a little jealousy. not proofread. pairing. taesan x fem!reader. wc. 1.1k. request. requested by anon for #6: "I realized why I couldn't stand you; I can't stop loving you and it's driving me crazy." a/n. this was only supposed to be like 500 words what happened... idk like the dance rival plot just appeared in my head so i was like okay lets go w that USUALLY WRITING FOR TAESAN IS RLY HARD SO IM GLAD THIS FIC WAS KINDA THE OPPOSITE SDJKS net. @onedoornet

Dongmin was your biggest rival in everything. Whether it was in school or at dance competitions, you would always be fighting for who would place first. You had a lot of respect for Dongmin, although your blood boiled whenever you placed second to him. Before he showed up, first place already had your name written on it before you even showed up to competitions. Your title as the ace was in limbo the second the raven haired boy showed his face.

You did well in school to make your parents happy, and were lucky enough to be able to place first without trying too hard. As long as you studied the material, your brain would do the rest. Dance was a different field, though. It was one of the only things that hadn’t come naturally to you as a child. Your parents were proud of you for sticking with something hard, hoping that you’d learn to persevere even when things were tough. When you eventually got to the top of your class in all dance areas as well, your parents were at a standstill. The appearance of Dongmin was celebrated by them, but not by you.

Worst of all, your parents were friends with his, and whether it was studying together or driving to dance class, they made sure your schedules were always intertwined. You saw the boy more than you saw your own friends. It was insufferable. You hated the way he smirked at you whenever he placed first, taunting you with those perfectly shaped eyebrows raising just slightly. You hated how he licked his lips, testing your self composure by making them look so inviting. And you hated his nickname for you; princess.

The week had been unpleasant all around. Dongmin had gone to extra dance classes in the morning, leaving you to get to school on your own. At first you had been excited at the idea— finally getting a break from the boy after months. Now you realized that having him next to you was better than seeing him at a distance. Your eyes couldn’t seem to leave him as you picked at your school lunch, eyeing him down like a hawk from across the cafeteria.

Why in the world was he talking to Minju and smiling? Your chopsticks almost snapped with how harsh you were holding them.

The situation only got worse that evening, as Dongmin had booked a slot at the studio to practice his solo, whereas you were left at home to study for a test which you already knew you would ace. You barely wrote anything in your notes, ending up spacing out instead, your phone open to Dongmin’s chat. You hated how you couldn’t get your mind off of him.

Your brain suddenly clicked, a sudden realization crashing down on you that you had never even considered before. And with your mind racing and impulsivity coursing through your veins, you grabbed your phone and rushed out of the house in the direction of the dance studio.

It was late in the night and only a couple rooms were in use, one of which was studio 8: where you could hear the music blasting for Dongmin’s solo. You didn’t bother knocking before entering the room, immediately catching the attention of a very surprised Dongmin.

“Hey, what are you doing here—“ 

“I need to tell you something.” You said simply. Dongmin gave you a questioning glance, but switched off the music regardless, grabbing a drink of water and a cloth to wipe his sweat. 

“You couldn’t have just told me over text or something?” He asked.

“No, I need to tell you in person.” 

Dongmin crossed his arms, taking a couple steps towards you, “Alright. Go ahead and say it, princess.” 

You took a breath, “I realized why I couldn’t stand you for all those months.” That caught Dongmin’s attention more than you storming into the practice room. He waited for you to continue speaking, eyes glued to your face.

“I can’t stop loving you and it’s driving me crazy.” You completed, daring to look up at his face, watching for his reaction.

You expected disgust or maybe his signature smirk to adorn his face like countless times before. He would probably enjoy having another way to beat you. But instead, shock and slight confusement showed on his face, a twinge of hope behind those ebony eyes. He took a tentative step forward, more hesitant than his previous ones, closing the rest of the distance between you and him. 

“You love me?” He questioned, trying to get his brain to process what you had just said. It was so unbelievable— especially coming from you. Dongmin had tried to get your attention for months. When his efforts only led to you getting mad, he had thought about giving up. But the rivalry kept your attention on him, and he quickly learned to accept that he might not have a chance with you, but he would still give it a valiant effort. 

You were the only girl he had ever crushed on, and he hadn’t anticipated that it would throw him headfirst into a lovesick disease that he couldn’t cure. You were both the poison and the antidote. Every day you plagued his mind, all efforts he tried to erase your pretty face out of his head failing. It was the fact that you were so close yet just out of reach that Dongmin couldn’t handle. He wanted you, needed you, for so many months. And now, finally, you were confessing to him.

“I-it’s stupid. I’ve hated you every single day since you first showed up. But, I can’t get you out of my head. Just get out of my head, please.” You whispered the last part in desperation, suffering from the very same lovesickness that Dongmin had endured for months. 

His eyes softened looking at you, but he shook his head, “I’ve tried for months to get you to think about me. I’m not gonna leave now.” He took hold of your wrist, pulling you forward so your face was mere centimetres away from his. His eyes asked for permission from you, eyeing your lips and eyes until you gave him a slight nod. He didn’t waste a second diving in, finally fulfilling what he had longed for since the first time he met you.

And it didn’t disappoint. The softness of your lips was just as he had imagined, and they fit perfectly with his, as if you were made for him. You— perfect face, perfect dance, perfect grades, perfect everything— had finally found your fatal flaw: falling for your rival. But maybe it wasn’t such a disastrous miscalculation on your part. Maybe you and Dongmin were destined to be from the start.

↳ boynextdoor taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @rizzshimura,, @captivq,, @icyminghao,, @eternalgyu,, @metalchick529,,

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[letstevengrantsleep]

I’ll make you mine

Spencer Reid x f!reader

Summary: Dr Spencer Reid is your professor. You’re very attractive professor. After a botched awards evening you bump into him on campus, and well… things get heated from there.

Word count: 3543

Warnings: nsfw 18+ content, student/professor dynamic, dom/sub dynamic kinda, ownership kinda, use of “baby” and “good girl”, implied m receiving oral, begging, confessions of feelings, ANGST, fluff

A/n: please let me know if I’ve missed any warnings and I’ll add them on, thanks 🌞

masterlist

From behind you, you hear your name being spoken and in a flash you spin on your heel to be faced with Dr Reid, a friendly face on this otherwise dismal evening. He looks incredible, as always.

“Professor!” You blush, suddenly self conscious about the satin dress you’re in, realising it’s not your usual university attire. “How lovely to see you!”

“Oh of course,” he speaks, trying his best to seem casual as he takes in what you’re wearing, “I take it you’re going somewhere special dressed like that?” His face turns a shade pinker, and he smiles warily down at you.

“Oh, well, I…” you adjust the spaghetti straps on your dress and smooth it down, trying to cover your modesty. “I’m actually on my way back from an event.”

“Back from an event, eh?” He looks at you from hair to toes again, his eyes lingering on your legs shamelessly as he takes in your appearance. “You’ll have to tell me about it over coffee.”

“Now?” smiling and revelling in the attention he’s giving you, you blush slightly.

“I suppose I could cancel my afternoon meetings. Wouldn’t be the first time I blew them off to spend time with you, and I doubt it will be the last.” Spencer laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Now where do you think we should catch up? My office? Or would you prefer somewhere more public?”

You mull it over, but ultimately decide that you’d rather be away from the prying eyes of others right now.

“Your office sounds just great, professor.” Giving him a small smile, you begin to fidget with the hem of your dress around the high slit that lands mid thigh.

“Excellent!” The professor exclaims, offering out his elbow for you to take, ready to escort you to his office. There’s a small part of his mind that wonders about what the other professors will think if they see the two of you linking arms, but there’s a bigger part that tells him not to care. “You look lovely, by the way, your dress really suits you.”

The blush that creeps onto your face is hot, and you try your best to hide it by looking down at your dress, “you think so? I really didn’t know whether it was my colour, I’ve never worn anything like it before.” A nervous laugh leaves your mouth.

“Are you kidding me? You look great in this colour. But I must say, you look great in any colour.” He smirks, proud of himself, biting back the urge to move in closer to you as you walk.

Laughing, you adjust your hair to try and cover more of your blushed face, “you flatter me, Dr Reid.”

“Dr Reid?” He laughs, shaking his head slightly, “oh no, that’s not going to do.” He looks around before leaning in, sending shivers down your spine from the new proximity. “Just call me Spencer, yeah?”

Nodding, flustered, you test his name on your lips and watch as he takes a deep breath, feeling a flutter in his stomach upon hearing his name from your lips.

Chuckling softly, he opens the door to his office and motions for you to enter, watching as you take a seat in the chair opposite his desk and cross one leg over another. Your dress falling open at the slit and showing your thigh. Spencer takes a seat on the other side of the desk after getting the two of you some coffee. He can’t help but glance at your exposed thigh before looking back at your face.

“So, tell me about this event you were at.”

“Oh, gosh, well,” you settling into the chair and briefly hold your head in your hands, “it was an awards evening for the university. I was meant to be up for an award but, uh, it didn’t really go as planned and I got all dressed up for nothing!” You laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

Spencer chuckles back, your laugh is so infectious he can’t help it. “Didn’t go as planned, eh? What happened?”

“Well, the award ended up going to someone else on the course, some guy, I’ve met him a few times in our lectures. He made some sleazy comment about how he could share the award with me if he could…” you hesitate, not wanting to get into the details, “well anyway, I ended up leaving early, that’s all that matters really… which is how I ended up here.” You smile, bashful and nervous about him reading into your statement.

He grimaces before speaking, running his hand through his hair for a second time. “What a jerk… sorry you had to deal with that.” He leans forwards in his desk chair, giving you a sympathetic look. “And you came straight here? Because you wanted to spend some time with someone who would appreciate you?”

Processing what he’s said takes you a second, and you’re somewhat taken aback by how forward he is. “You’re profiling me, Spencer…” you can’t seem to make eye contact with him, choosing instead to stare at your hands as you fidget with them in your lap.

You could swear you see him blush as you call him out, and he clears his throat before speaking, choosing his words carefully. “And if I was?”

Nervously, you add “you’d be right, of course.”

Spencer grins, wide and sincere, “so I was right. You couldn’t wait to spend time with me, could you?”

“Oh come on now Professor, you know you’re the only person in this university who I’d really want to spend any time with.” The teasing tone in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed by the older man.

“Professor? I thought we had an agreement, I’m Spencer. I don’t want to be Professor, just Spencer is good.” He leans forwards, wanting to say something out of pocket but not quite knowing where to start. He’s about to speak when suddenly there’s a knock on the door. “You’re kidding me…” he seems deflated, “what could they possibly want at a time like this?”

Smiling, shy again, you speak up, quiet. “You should probably get that.”

Before you can say anything else, he’s groaning and getting up to head towards the door. Before he does, however, he turns with a finger pointed your way… “You just wait here. I need to you be a good girl and stay, alright? Just sit here until I’m back and don’t say a word.”

You nod, wide eyed and mind racing.

“I won’t be long… you can wait for me, can’t you?”

You nod again, blushing, noticing the sly smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. He’s enjoying this.

“Good girl.”

Holy shit. Taking a sharp intake of breath, you stand on shaky legs and make your way over to the bookcase just to the other side of the door, trying to distract yourself from the growing pressure you’re feeling in your core. It’s embarrassing how quickly a man can literally have you weak at the knees. All it takes is some praise and a well fitting suit.

Spencer excuses himself and moves in front of you, leaving the door ajar, whispering so only you can hear him, “you wouldn’t be able to do me a favour would you?”

His tone is calm, and you suspect nothing of it when you nod politely and watch as he leans onto the bookcase next to you.

“Can you keep your mouth shut for me? I mean, really keep your mouth shut. I need you to pretend that you’re not here while I talk with…” he gestures towards the door, “and in return, you’ll get more of my time. Do you understand me?”

Flustered, and quite frankly a little turned on, you nod frantically, watching as he pushes himself off the wall, takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and whispers “good girl” with a smirk. You feel your knees go weak as you lean against the wall, short of breath, watching him move back to the door and pick up his conversation with the colleague on the other side.

It takes you a moment to regain some sense of perspective and compose yourself, watching Spencer as he leans against the door frame. He turns and catches your stare and for a moment there’s a pause, and unspoken connection in the air. Then, with deliberate slowness, Spencer looks away and continues speaking to the person outside. He can practically feel you watching his every movement, and for a moment he wonders what would happen if he turned to you and kissed you. It’s fleeting, but he wonders.

Soon, the other person walks away and Spencer turns his attention to the cup of coffee on his desk, taking a large swig before staring at you with full concentration.

“Come here.” He orders, and you obey with little hesitation, making your way over as he closes the door, leaving the two of you alone once again. Without a word he pulls your body close to his until you’re pressed against him, looking you up and down and letting out a short laugh, as if even he cannot believe the situation you’re both in.

As he takes your face in his hands, caressing your cheeks, he says your name, looking you dead in the eye, a look of pure adoration in his eyes.

“Spencer…” you respond, looking up at him with wide eyes, hoping to convey all of the nervousness and excitement you feel for this moment.

He caresses your cheek once again as he uses one hand to move your hair out of your face. Looking into your eyes once again, he finally does what he’s been wanting to do since the moment he laid eyes on you. He kisses you. Passionately, hungrily. Your bodies pressed together, your fingers running through each other’s hair. He smiles as you kiss back, letting out a soft moan as you rake your nails down from his hair to his neck, letting one of his own hands fall to your waist to pull you impossibly closer.

After another beat, Spencer pulls away and glances down at your dress, his eyes focused on the material as his hand traces the slit up your leg, his knuckles grazing your thigh.

Breathless, you whisper against his lips, “you see something you like, Spencer?”

Spencer smirks and leans in once more, whispering against your ear, “all I see is something I can’t have…” as he pulls away he mumbles another word under his breath… “yet.”

Shocked into silence, all you can do is stare at the professor as your face turns a deep shade of red.

“Can you promise me something?” He mumbles against your neck as he kisses and bites at the sensitive skin.

Moaning out a “yes, anything” you wait for his response, grabbing at his hair, his suit jacket, anything to keep you upright.

“Can you promise to keep this just between us? This this stays our little secret?”

You smile, biting your lip as you nod, earning another “good girl” from his lips. You’d do anything to hear those words…

He kisses you again, this time lingering… before he takes himself too far he pulls away once more. “You know we can’t go any further for now, right?”

This earns him a whimper from you, pouting as you try and pull him in for another kiss, but he’s quicker and grabs your chin, holding you back gently, saying your name as he looks you dead in the eye. He’s trying his best to convey just how much restraint it’s taking to stop you right here.

“Do you want me to ruin my career for you?” He asks, lifting your head up to meet his gaze.

Shaking your head, you beg with pleading eyes for something, anything to happen.

“Then we have no choice but to wait, baby.” Spencer stands completely still, the wait of the situation now fully registering with him. “Now, listen. I would love to spend as much time with you as possible. To kiss you like that over and over and over again. But we can’t do that right now, so I want you to show me that you can behave. Show me you can keep this our little secret. Can you do that?”

There’s no point in hiding the blush creeping up again onto your face, it’s so fucking sexy how he talks down to you and all you can do is stand there as he tells you what to do. “I might need a little something to convince me to keep this secret, Spence,” you smile, biting your lip at him.

“Of course you do,” he smirks, moving closer once more, “what will it take to convince you?” Spencer let’s his thumb run along your lower lip and it takes every ounce of willpower you have not to take it into your mouth and start sucking.

Taking a broken intake of breath, you bite your lip once more and pull all of the courage you have before closing the distance between kissing him deep and rough. This pulls a small gasp from Spencer and one of his hands run back up into your hair, the other trailing down the back of your dress, pulling you closer as you kiss.

You talk in between kisses, lips still on his as you speak, “I’ve wanted you for so long, Sir… please,” you’re not even sure what you’re begging for, you just know that you want more of him. “I’ll keep us a secret, I’ll be your good girl Spencer, just give me more, please.” You grab at Spencer’s tie, walking the two of you back until your back hits the wall, so he’s caging you in.

Soon, you’re both gasping and panting, Spencer’s lips red and swollen. “Baby, we should stop.” He can barely get the words out as you push yourself against the wall and his hands move under your dress. You’re sure he’s right but you can’t help yourself when you pick your foot up and wrap it around his calf, bringing him so close you can barely think straight. “Oh god,” he moans your name, his lips finding yours once more.

You can feel his hard cock pressed against your thigh as he pushes against you. “We…” he can’t get the words out. All he wants is you, all he wants is your lips all over him. The only thought in his mind is giving in to his desires, and as he pulls you closer he whispers into your neck, “I bet you’d feel so good.”

You smirk as you make up your mind, looking him dead in the eye before lowering yourself down onto your knees in front of him. You watch as he bites his lip, heart racing at the sight in front of him.

“What… what are you doing?”

“I want to make you feel good,” you whimper, reaching for Spencer’s belt to unfasten it. He doesn’t try to stop you, his body shaking and trembling as you unclasp his belt.

“You know you’re playing with fire right now…” it’s more of a statement than a question, one that has you smiling up at him as you reach for his zip.

Suddenly he takes a step back, hesitating as he says your name, “please slow down for a second..” his heart skips a beat and he swallows hard, looking down at you in an almost trance-like state.

There’s nothing you can do but look at him, waiting for him to say something…

He takes a deep breath.

“Please. Stop… please.”

The moment he asks, your heart drops into your stomach and he rushes to explain as you get to your feet.

“Baby, I need you. I want you to make me feel good, but my whole career is on the line here and I don’t think you realise how close you are to loosing me. If someone were to find out…” he trails off, unsure.

You blink, eyes going glassy, “I’m sorry Spencer… I-“ you turn to leave, trying to blink away the tears in your eyes.

As soon as you move to back away, Spencer pulls you back, hands gripping your wrists. “Don’t leave me, don’t.” He looks at you, pleading. “I need you to listen to what I’m saying here. You’re doing nothing wrong.” His hand comes up once again to gently touch your chin, bringing your attention back to him. “There is nothing I want more than to give into my desires and let you do anything you want to me. But I cannot and will not risk everything I’ve worked for. Just please understand that I’m asking you to hold on until I’m in the clear, okay?”

You take a sharp intake of breath, quickly becoming flustered from his words, no longer so embarrassed. “You mean that?”

“I would be lying to you if I said any different.” Spencer looks at you for a moment before moving to take your hands in his. “Look at how red the marks on my neck are are from your lips. Look how heavy my breathing is… you felt how much I need you. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted you…” he pulls you in towards him, letting out a soft moan and burying his face in the crook of your neck. “I swear I will make this up to you. I will spend every waking moment with you and make up for everything I denied you today. My career is important, but so are you. You’re so much more important than you could possibly understand.”

You’re flustered, completely incapable of forming coherent thoughts as you focus on how Spencer’s hand slide down to the small of your back.

“Spencer… when can I have you?” You plead, “I need you…”

“Soon, it’ll be soon. My classes end in two weeks time and I’ll be ready to give you everything the day they do. Until then, try to find some… distractions so you can survive the next two weeks, yeah?”

Groaning like a child, you pout at him due to the mention of two weeks, earning a low chuckle from him as he grabs your face in both his hands.

“Try seeing it from my perspective, okay? I’ve been wanting you for months, wanting you in every single way that you could possibly imagine. The fact that I’ve made it this long is almost miraculous, if I’m being honest…”

Wide eyed, you ask… “months?”

Spencer nods and let’s out a small sigh… “yeah, months. Months and months. And it hasn’t been easy. You have no idea what you do to me, how I feel when you call me ‘sir’, when you bite your lip just like you’re doing right now…”

Blushing, you push him away to save from further embarrassing yourself, earning a dissatisfied noise from Spencer.

“No, no no, you can’t push me away. I need you right here,” he keeps his hands on your hips and looks down at you. “You’re my good girl, don’t you forget that. You wait for me and it’ll be all worth it.” He rubs your back a little as his features set into a frown as he thinks. “In the meantime, I’ve got something for you that might help.”

Perking up at the thought of a gift, you tilt your head and ask what it is, earning you a coy smile from your professor. His hands leave your back as he walks to his desk, pulling out a small drawer and reaching in. “This morning I took the precaution of grabbing you something special. I was always planning on this, baby, and now I think is the perfect time to give it to you.”

Watching, you see him remove a thin chain from the drawer, along with a small, golden padlock. He walks to you and slips the chain around your neck, letting the lock fall into your cleavage. Smiling, he brings up the lock hanging from the necklace and slowly clicks it closed. It looks perfect.

“Now, no one can take this lock off your neck except for me,” he holds up a small key, “no matter what, you’re mine, is that clear?”

“I understand, Spencer,” you can’t hide your smile as you bring your hand up to hold the lock, “I’m yours.”

Spencer smiles, “good girl. I promise you that the moment I can, I will remove that lock and give you the time of your life… until then, I want you to enjoy the feeling of knowing that you belong to me and no one else.”

You nod, taking a step back from Spencer, feeling ready to leave now that you have confirmation that he is willing to wait for you, that you mean something to him.

Before you have chance to move too far away, he grabs your hand, “just a moment, I just want to…” and with that he moves in for a quick kiss, his mind filled with the thought that in two weeks he can finally have you.

He moans as you pull away, mind still reeling at the taste of you. “Only a few more weeks…”

[dollyhao]

loser!ellie x bully!reader

summary: ellie upsets reader and takes her punishment like a champ.

cw: cowgirl, bondage

"els take me to the mall tomorrow?" you say not even looking up from your phone, scrolling through insta. its suppose to sound like a question because ellies trying to teach you that you cant be demanding with everything you say. you ignored her when she first said that to you but you took it into consideration, not doing it so often anymore.

ellie is sitting at the bottom of her bed reading a comic book and rubbing your feet thats in her lap. "uh um, actually i cant. i have.. a test, yup a test to study for." you glance up at her with a quirked brow, her face is red and flushed but she always looks that around you so you shrug. "fine" you say rolling your eyes snatching your foot out her hand.

your not upset frfr, you know how important grades are to ellie, which is why shes always so insistent on trying to help you study.

"im staying here tonight." you say taking your pants off leaving you in a shirt and underwear, crawling under her blanket. ellie hums in approval, and joins you spooning you as you both slept.

the next day, you decided to go to the mall with a friend since ellie was busy. yall stopped at a wing place close to campus and see ellie sitting inside with those other losers, dina and jesse. ellie has never blatantly lied to you like this.

you walk over to her fuming. yea, you know the last time she tried to miss plans with you to hang out with friends you said you would block her, but you threaten to block her all the time and never do.

her back is to you when you hit her with your purse, "wtf-" ellie says turning around looking angry and confuse. her face drops when she sees you obviously upset, she looks super guilty. "your such a bitch ellie. dont fucking talking to me." you turn and leave hearing ellie stumbling and asking you to wait behind you.

you get in your friends car arms crossed frowning, "take me home." "no food?" "i lost my appetite." your friend puts the car in reverse just as ellie comes out the restaurant and yall drive off.

your in your dorm when you hear rapid knocks at your door. you get up to open the door already knowing its ellie. "what" "please let me explain" she says hands clasped together with a pleading look on her face. "i dont wanna hear it williams." you say walking away from the open door.

ellie comes in closing the door behind you, getting on her knees in front of you. "please please forgive me. im so so sorry for lying. w-what can i do so you'll forgive me? ill do anything."

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

"this isn't fair!" ellie says tears in her eyes. "you said you'd do anything." you say out of breath. your bouncing on her dick with her laying back on your bed hands tied above her head with a pair of your stockings. you refuse to let her touch you or fuck you, basically using her as your own little toy.

"please let me fuck you, i-i can make you feel so so good!" "nope." you say putting two fingers in her mouth so she would be quiet.

you throw your head back leaning over ellie tits all in her face as you keep riding. "fuck ellie." you say taking your spit covered fingers out ellie's mouth rubbing your clit with them.

ellie lets you use her because she feels so so bad for lying to you, she lays still even though it feels like torture. you moan out biting you bottom lip looking down at ellie who looks high, drool dripping out the corner of her mouth.

" ’m close els…" "please cum for me baby." ellie says before catching one of your enticing nipples in her mouth. you fully impale yourself on her dick creaming all over her. you smile down at her rising off her walking over to the bathroom leaving her tied up.

"please tell me you forgive me?"

[fluentmoviequoter]

Rook Book

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!metro!reader

Summary: When you return to the Mid-Wilshire station for a Metro inspection, you don't expect to run into your former TO, Tim Bradford.

Warnings: fluff, brief angst, incorrect police procedures

Word Count: 2.4k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Boot, let’s go!” Tim urges. “You can talk to your friends later.”

“Good morning to you, too, Officer Bradford,” Lucy replies. “How’d you-“

“Shop.”

“I just-“

“Shop.”

Lucy sighs before walking away from Tim. She’s used to his grumpiness by now, but she can tell by his attitude that there will be a few Tim Tests today. The war bags are already in the trunk, so Lucy isn’t sure what the rush is.

✯✯✯✯✯

“It’s been a while,” Wade says as he shakes your hand.

“Too long,” you reply with a smile. “When my captain mentioned this, I knew I had to take the assignment.”

“So, what does Metro want with a station review? Isn’t that usually IA’s thing?”

“Typically, yes. I think my role here is best described as a scout. Cap wants some new blood and we’ve got a couple of Metro openings. We need the best, and for some reason, I get to choose them.”

“You’ve already chosen one, I’m sure.”

Wade smiles as you furrow your brows. He shakes his head and reaches for something on his desk.

“Who?” you ask.

“If you don’t know, I’m not telling you.”

Someone knocks on the door, and you turn around as Smitty steps inside.

“I thought you quit,” he says when he sees you.

“I think I know who I won’t be choosing,” you tell Wade.

He tosses you a set of keys and waves. You leave his office and glance around. The station hasn’t changed much since the last time you were there, but you’re sure the people have. As you walk through the bullpen, you see someone you recognize.

“Bradford?” you call.

Tim freezes at the sound of your voice. He hasn’t seen you in years, yet hearing his last name come out of your mouth takes him back to when he was a rookie. Walking several steps ahead of him, Lucy stops and turns at the call of Bradford’s name. She’s expecting to be held up for a minute or two, but when she sees Tim turn slowly toward you, she knows that it’s more than that.

“Hey,” Tim says.

When he sees your smile, he relaxes and steps toward you. You don’t miss his initial reaction, though, and it makes your smile grow.

“I did not think you’d still be here,” you begin. “Maybe I should’ve done a better job.”

Tim nods, and Lucy rushes to his side. She smiles and extends her hand toward you before she speaks.

“Hi, I’m Lucy, uh, Officer Chen. How do you know Officer Bradford?” she asks.

“Nice to meet you,” you reply before telling her your name. “And you are?”

“Oh, I’m Tim’s rookie.”

“You’re a TO?” you ask incredulously as you turn to look at Tim. “Seriously?”

“Lucy,” Tim begins, “this is my TO.”

Lucy’s jaw drops and you chuckle. Wade calls your name, and you look over your shoulder at him. After he beckons you to return to his office, you turn back to Tim.

“I’ll see you around,” you say.

“Why?” he inquires.

“Metro’s recruiting.”

Tim watches you go and doesn’t move until you’re out of his sight. His shoulders are tense, but there’s a small smile on his face that Lucy hasn’t seen before.

“You never mentioned her!” Lucy exclaims.

“Because she was my TO, not yours,” Tim argues.

“She doesn’t seem that much older than you.”

“I’m not that much older than you.”

Lucy raises her brows but remains silent this time.

“Our ages don’t matter. Aren’t you supposed to be in the shop?” Tim argues.

“Aren’t you?”

Tim tilts his head to the side, and Lucy decides this isn’t a battle worth fighting. She’ll ask about you later, anyway. After Lucy walks away, Tim glances towards Wade’s office once more. He remembers every moment he spent with you, and the memories are making it hard to focus.

“You drive,” Tim tells Lucy as he enters the garage area.

“Are you serious?”

“Am I ever unserious?”

Lucy nods and takes the keys from him. As she climbs into the driver’s seat, she realizes why he doesn’t want to drive. He can’t, for some reason.

“You had a crush on your TO,” she accuses quietly.

“Do you want me to quiz you on everything in the rook book?” Tim replies. “Because if you keep this up, that’s what you have to look forward to.”

“You don’t have one.”

“No, because I actually know everything in it. Now, you can pick. Be quiet and drive or I start asking questions about cavity search procedures.”

“I will be quiet and drive,” Lucy decides. “For now.”

Tim takes a deep breath as he remembers the rook book you kept with you when he was a boot. Every memory he has of you is good, and now he’s concerned that Lucy is right. Not that he did have a crush on you, he knows he did, but that he still does.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Bradford,” Wade calls over the radio. “I need you and Chen to return to the station.”

“Copy that,” Tim responds.

“What do you think that’s about?” Lucy asks.

“The Metro inspection.”

“I didn’t know about a Metro inspection.”

“I can tell you’re about to burst, so you can ask one question before we get back to the station,” Tim offers.

“Ooh! Wait, just one? How am I supposed to choose? Because I want to know about what kind of TO she was, but I also need to ask if she knows that you liked her.”

“Choose one.”

Lucy taps her fingers on the steering wheel for a moment before smiling. “Did she test you like you test me?”

“Are you asking if she had a version of Tim Tests?”

“Yes.”

Tim nods as he answers, “Yeah. She gave me tests. It’s one of the reasons I started doing Tim Tests. Practical knowledge and experience are important, but she’s the one who taught me that.”

“That’s so cute! You based your teaching style on your teacher crush.”

“Chen,” Tim warns.

“Okay, okay. Then did she quiz you on the rook book, too?”

Lucy knows she is pressing her luck with asking another question. Tim doesn’t answer, and as she nears the station, Lucy expects he’ll make her do pushups later.

“Yeah, she did. Always had a copy of the rook book with her. Sometimes, she’d read it while I drove around and would only talk to me to ask me questions.”

Lucy smiles to herself, now completely convinced that Tim had a crush on you. The way he talks about you and remembers you, though, makes her think those feelings may still be alive. Once the shop is parked at the station, Lucy decides to get to the bottom of Tim’s relationship with you, and if there isn’t one, she needs to make something happen.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Bradford, thanks for coming back so quickly,” Wade says. “Head into my office. Chen, I’ve got an assignment for you.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucy replies.

“There’s a Metro inspection happening today, and I need you to take the Metro officer around, show her everything she needs to see, make introductions, whatever she asks.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lucy tries to hide her smile because she suspects that you are the Metro officer she’s about to spend a bunch of time with. Maybe you’ll be more open than Tim. When you approach her with a smile, Lucy knows that her investigation of your relationships will be more fun than your inspection of the station.

“Officer Chen, sorry to pull you from patrol, but Sergeant Grey said you were one of the best,” you greet.

“No problem,” Lucy says. “And you can call me Lucy if you want.”

“Okay, Lucy, I would love a tour of Mid-Wilshire station. It’s been a long time since I was here, so walk me through like it’s my first time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Lucy turns and leads you toward the front desk, to start the tour as she would with a visitor.

“Lucy?” you ask. “What’s Tim like as a TO?”

“He’s great. I mean, he’s grumpy and has a ton of Tim Tests, but I like riding with him.”

“Tim Tests,” you murmur under your breath. “Cute.”

Lucy smiles at your reaction before she begins the tour. You don’t mention Tim again for a while, and Lucy thinks that you are too focused on your inspection to think about him. As you near the bullpen at the end of the tour, Tim is exiting Wade’s office.

“You abducted my boot for a personalized tour?” Tim asks you.

“Lucy mentioned Tim Tests,” you say, changing the subject. “Don’t tell me copied my rook book move, too.”

Tim rubs his thumb across his jaw before answering, “I didn’t.”

“He told me that you used to carry a rook book around and would ask him questions,” Lucy interjects. “I’m really glad he didn’t take that idea.”

You look at Tim with a smile as you ask, “That’s all you told her?”

Lucy looks back and forth between you and Tim, but neither of you seems to remember she’s there.

“The rook book wasn’t a rook book,” Tim says after a moment. “It was just a book that she put the cover on. Those days that she didn’t want to talk to me, she’d just read through our shift and ask me random questions to make it look like she was doing her job.”

“Yeah. Because I’m the one who had trouble doing my job,” you reply with a laugh.

Tim shakes his head, and Lucy suddenly feels the urge to interrupt before he says something out of line.

“How’s the inspection going?” he asks instead.

“How’d your meeting go?” you counter. “Because the inspection is just a cover and we both know it.”

“Cover for what?” Lucy asks.

“She’s recruiting for Metro,” Tim explains. “Looking for the best talent in our station to move to a new team.”

“We’ve got three openings,” you remind him. “Just think about it, okay?”

Tim looks toward Lucy, but you give him a knowing nod. Lucy feels lost like a kid listening to her parents talk about something she hasn’t experienced yet.

“Thanks for the tour, Officer Chen,” you say. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

You say bye to Tim before walking past him. His fingers flex at his side as you pass, close enough to touch. Tim closes his eyes for a moment before turning to Lucy.

“Let’s go. Patrol isn’t over yet,” he says.

“Are you sure you don’t want to grab a book first?” she responds. “I know, shop. I’m going.”

✯✯✯✯✯

After the day of your inspection, Lucy doesn’t hear your name again. Tim returns to his high-stress tests, driving, and random procedural questions. You clearly made an impact on Tim just by being near him, and as Lucy’s rookie exam gets closer, she wonders if Tim pushed you away.

“Can I ask a question?” Lucy asks.

“Depends. Is it about the exam? Because that’s all you should be concerned about,” Tim says.

“No. Well, sort of. Did your TO help you study?”

“Are we talking about my experience as a rookie or about my TO?”

“Your TO,” Lucy answers softly.

“Fine. Ask away.”

“Why hasn’t she been back?”

“She has a job. Metro is busy, so she doesn’t have a lot of time to make personal visits.”

“Did she offer you one of the positions?”

“She did.”

“And you didn’t take it? Why not?”

“Because you’re still a rookie. I have to get you through this.”

“You could’ve handed me off, that happens all the time. Did you say no because of her?”

“I didn’t say no, Chen. I said not yet.”

“Metro positions don’t open every day! You can’t throw away your career to drive me around for a few more months!”

“Lucy!” Tim yells. “Drop it.”

Lucy sits back and presses her lips together to stay quiet. Tim’s cell phone rings, and he glances at it before raising it to his ear.

“Hello?” Tim answers.

Lucy looks over in shock. Tim has never answered a personal call in the time they’ve been riding together. Whoever is on the other end speaks for a moment, and Tim listens intently.

“Got it… Yep, see you then.”

Tim ends the call and drops his phone to continue driving.

“Who was that?” Lucy asks.

Tim looks over but doesn’t answer. He says, “Read your rook book,” and keeps driving.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Officer Bradford,” you call as he and Lucy enter the station.

Tim leaves Lucy and walks to you. He stops beside Wade’s office and waits for you to begin. You told him on the phone to come straight to the station when his shift ended and he’s ready to know why. Nolan and Jackson enter behind Lucy and silence as they watch Tim talk to you.

“Who is that?” Nolan whispers.

“Tim’s TO,” Lucy answers.

“My captain wanted to call you, but I thought it would be better to tell you in person,” you begin. “You passed the Metro test, and your spot is waiting for you.”

Tim smiles, glad he has his back to the rookies. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything I haven’t done before.”

“Which is?”

“See potential in you.”

Tim nods and thanks you again. You look over his shoulder and the rookies look away quickly, but they’re less than stealthy and it is obvious they’re trying to listen in.

“Has Lucy been asking about me?” you ask.

“Nonstop. Don’t look so happy about it, though.”

“What kind of questions?”

“Mostly if I had a crush on you.”

“We both know you did,” you say.

Tim doesn’t argue, and your smile grows.

“I know you told her about my tests and the rookie book, but what else does she know?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s interesting. Because I don’t know any more than that and I’ve known you a whole lot longer.” You glance down at your Metro uniform before adding, “Oh, and my captain also said that Metro officers are allowed to have interpersonal relationships as long as they don’t interfere with work.”

Tim looks up quickly with wide eyes. You stifle a laugh, and he rolls his eyes.

“So… are you ready to admit you had a crush on me?” you ask.

“Something like that.”

You wave at Lucy and step away from Tim. He reaches an arm out to stop you, but you only wink at him before you continue walking.

“Are you going to do something this time?” Wade asks as he exits his office.

“We’ll see,” Tim answers. “Lucy has to pass the rookie exam first.”

“It looks like she just got herself a tutor.”

Tim turns and finds you and Lucy talking excitedly. You smile at him, and Tim feels like a boot again.

“This is gonna be fun,” Wade and Lucy say simultaneously.

Neither you nor Tim hear them, too busy looking at one another.

> part 2: Rook Book to Remember Me By

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

im not sure if youre necessarily comfortable with this, so feel free to ignore this if you're not, but GOOODDD i just thought it was the cutest idea ever. possibly a series idea?

imagining reader finding out she's pregnant with ethan's baby after the costume frat party, due to quinn's suspicions bc of how sick reader was for almost two weeks then. though being unable to tell ethan, due to the whole ghostface thing pretty much ruining whatever chance she had to tell him, especially bc the group were SUPER suspicious of him and wouldn't leave him alone with her (prob bc reader told the group during the whole dinner before ethan, as gf attacked the apartment but left reader alone) but time skip a little, ethans put in a psych ward for a couple months to deal with the trauma from his dad & just being pressured into being ghostface, and he decides to go back and visit his girlfriend because he didn't really have anywhere else to go, but when he arrived at her front door, the last thing he was expecting was to see her with a small baby girl in her arms. (in this essay, i will expand more on my girldad! ethan landry age-) BUT reader doesn't necessarily trust ethan around her at first, and for good reason to, considering he literally tried to kill her and the core five (reader was apart of the woodsboro group, was possibly dating amber??) and ethan has to pretty much work his ass off to regain her trust again. just fluff, to angst to fluff again

I hope you like this!!!!!💕

Flames - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This is going to be a series! It'll definitely have a lot of angst and fluff for those kind sweet souls that have been asking me for it:)

Part 2, Part 3

Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of death, suggestion to sex(but not graphic:)

Summary: After surviving Woodsboro, attacks are happening again to your friend group in NYC.

It’d been a little over a month since the infamous Halloween frat party. That night was crazy, especially after Sam tazed some loser’s balls. When the night was cut short, you decided to go back to Ethan and Chad’s dorm while Chad was going with Tara. You hadn’t had much alone time with Ethan, so you had to take advantage of every opportunity you got.

When the condom broke that night, you went out to get a Plan B the next morning, knowing you and Ethan weren’t ready to be parents yet. What you didn’t know was that you were ovulating at the time, and that the future-saving morning after pill wouldn’t work.

When you started to get sick every day, Quinn started to pick up on it. She had her suspicions and asked you to take a test. Your heart sank when you saw the plus sign, but you had no idea how to tell Ethan. Especially when Mindy was so convinced that he was one of the prime suspects in the most recent killings happening around campus. You didn’t know what to believe, especially after your ex-girlfriend was one of the people killing off your friends in Woodsboro the year before. She even tried to kill you, but you were saved after getting stabbed four times.

As you sat at the table with your friends, you couldn’t keep your secret any longer. Quinn already knew, but you had to tell the rest of them.

As Chad started his “Core Five” speech, and Sam confessed to her fling with Danny, you decided it was the right time to let it out.

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out, the room instantly getting silent.

Everyone exchanged glances as your cheeks turned red.

“Wait…what?” Chad asked, his shocked expression very similar to everyone else’s.

“Is that why you keep getting sick?” Sam asked, before Mindy spoke up.

“Okay, this is one of the main rules. You aren’t supposed to have sex!”

You rolled your eyes, “It’s a little too late for that advice. Shouldn’t that rule be updated, though? Everyone is sleeping with someone.”

“But you’re the one sleeping with a killer,” she smirked, “Sweet, dorky Ethan is Ghostface. Just like Amber.”

“You don’t know that,” you said, as she scoffed.

“Where is he right now?” she questioned, everyone’s eyes landing on you again.

“He’s at Econ.”

Everyone’s phones started to chime. It made you all feel uneasy, your heart pounding as you saw the picture of Ghostface with Quinn.

You all jumped up, standing outside of her bedroom door. You were hoping it was some sick prank, but after the events that happened in Woodsboro, you knew it wasn’t.

You didn’t have much time to think of a plan before the masked figure threw Quinn’s body out of the room, resting against you before she fell to the floor. When Ghostface charged out of the room, you were in the direct path, but they went around you. You noticed Chad and Tara running out the front door, following them to what would hopefully be safety. The second you made it out, the door slammed behind you, and you heard the numerous locks on the door click.

“Fuck, guys!” you yelled to Tara and Chad who were a few sets of stairs down from you. “They’re still in there! The door just got locked!”

They ran back up, the sounds of Chad’s fists banging on the door and the screaming coming from inside the apartment echoing off the walls.

“I don’t have my keys or my phone,” you panicked, tears flowing down your cheeks.

“I don’t either,” Tara said, pounding on the door and screaming for Sam.

After a few minutes, the screams became fainter. You started to lose hope, thinking that all your friends inside were dead. The three of you were crying outside of the door, before Chad spoke up.

“I need to get you two somewhere safe,” he said, nudging you and Tara towards the stairs.

When you made it outside, you bumped into Sam, Mindy and Danny. Mindy was sobbing, and Sam’s face was somber.

“Where’s Anika?” you asked, as Mindy cried harder. Your eyes went wide, “No…”

“Anika and Quinn,” was all Sam could get out before getting choked up.

You all cried as you hugged each other on the sidewalk when the cop cars pulled up. Everyone was questioned before Detective Bailey arrived. He was closest to you because you were the closest to Quinn. He treated you like a daughter, regularly taking you and Quinn out for dinner. You tried to comfort him as he cried, but you didn’t know how to. He’d already lost one of his children in a car accident, and the other was murdered in the room next to yours.

When the ambulance arrived, they kept trying to find the source of your bleeding. You started to feel faint as you tried to explain that it was Quinn’s blood on you, your vision getting spotty. You dropped to your knees, unable to keep your balance. When Sam told the paramedics that you were pregnant, they put you on the stretcher and monitored you as the sun started to rise.

“I’m okay, really,” you said, after an hour of laying there. They were in the process of giving you an IV, hoping the fluids would help with your extreme dizziness.

“The bag’s close to empty. You’re almost done,” the paramedic said, hooking you up to the machine to check your vitals for what felt like the hundredth time.

You watched Mindy get her stitches, completely unfazed. She was so heartbroken, and you just wanted to hug her and tell her everything was going to be okay. You could only imagine what it would’ve felt like if you were in her position, and Ethan was the one laying under the tarp.

As your IV was finally getting taken out, Ethan pushed through the crowd of people and lifted the caution tape to walk over towards everyone. Chad jumped up, having a heated exchange with Ethan as he shoved him against a car.

“I had Econ!” you heard him yell, his eyes scanning the friend group. “Where is she?”

“Ambulance,” Chad said, as Ethan’s eyes connected with yours. He ran towards you, before Mindy stopped him.

“Stay the fuck away from her, Ghostface,” she snapped, as Ethan looked back towards you.

“Jesus Christ, I had Econ!”

“It’s okay, Mindy,” you mumbled, as she moved so Ethan could join you in the back of the ambulance.

“Baby, are you okay?” he asked, grabbing your hand. His eyes were filled with panic.

“I’m okay, I just got really dizzy earlier.”

“Thank god, I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” Mindy scoffed at his words, thinking about Anika.

After checking out the abandoned theater, and Gale getting attacked, you decided that you needed to head back to Woodsboro. You needed to be with your family, and as much as you wanted to be there for your friends, they were all supportive of you going home. You didn’t have just your own life to think about anymore, so you needed to be somewhere safe.

Ethan was really sad when you left, crying as he said goodbye to you at the airport while the rest of your friends watched. They didn’t trust you alone with him, they all had their suspicions that he was the cause for everything that was happening.

“Please be safe,” you said, hugging Tara.

“You too. Let me know how everything goes after you get back home,” she said, alluding to the current situation, not wanting Ethan to overhear and wonder what she was talking about.

“I will.” you said, “I love you guys,” you waved, walking towards security.

You couldn’t tell Ethan about the baby, even though you were terrified that something could happen to him, and he’d never know he had a child. There was this awful feeling in the pit of your stomach. It could’ve been the trauma from your relationship with Amber, but you had no idea she was behind the Woodsboro murder spree, when you thought you knew everything about her. You thought you knew Ethan, but now you weren’t so sure.

When your plane landed, it felt surreal. Woodsboro was never a safe place to be, and now it was. When you made it to the entrance of the airport, your mom was crying, so happy that you were okay. You hadn’t told her about the baby yet, not wanting to send her into shock. She wanted to take you out for dinner, which you agreed to. The lack of food over the last couple days made you feel weak.

“Do you have anything special you want to do when you get home? Do you want to watch a movie or something?” she asked as she sat across the table from you.

“No, I really just want to sleep. Maybe tomorrow,” you smiled, taking a bite of your food.

You pulled out your phone to see a few texts from your friends, all of them checking to make sure you made it back okay. Then you noticed one from Ethan.

Ethan: I love you so much, and I miss you already. I can’t wait to see you again.

You: I love you too, baby

“You okay?” your mom asked, noticing the sad expression on your face.

“I can’t stop thinking about last year…about Amber. How could I have been so wrong about her?” you sighed, your mom’s sympathetic eyes meeting yours.

“She was sick, baby. I’m not trying to downplay it, because she killed two of my friends…and I know you were devastated when Wes and Liv were killed. She just had issues and needed serious help.”

Your mom got sad every time she talked about Dewey and Judy, you did too. You hated when she mentioned Wes because that was the death you took the hardest. Liv was the one Mindy suspected last time, and she was wrong then. You wanted so badly for her to be wrong this time, too.

When you made it home, you went upstairs and crawled into your bed. You felt safe with the alarm set downstairs, and your parents close by. You were finally able to get some much-needed rest.

Your mom woke you up the next morning, wanting to make sure she told you the news before you woke up and saw it yourself. Your heart broke as you listened to her speak about the few details that had been released. You checked your phone to see a text from Tara.

Tara: We’re okay, Chad’s in the hospital…but Ethan was in on it.

[newluvrs]

PARTY 4 U [PT. 3]

Sungchan ₊ ⊹₍ᐢᐢ₎  mdni!! 18+ currently listening to: PARTY 4 U - CHARLI XCX word count: 9.7k bb note: im not even gonna lie I think like half of this is smut 😭😭... lets just call it an early birthday gift 2 myself 🙂‍↕️

“What are you thinking about?” 

The room is bathed in a soft light from your bedside lamp, your eyes heavy with sleep.  A glance at the digital clock in your room tells you it’s a little past 3 a.m..  You’re in no mood to leave the current comfort of your bed, and even if you were in the mood, you still wouldn’t.  Not when the person you’re resting against is Sungchan, not when he feels so warm and safe.  This is probably too intimate of a position granted you’re supposed to just be friends with benefits, but sometime between leaving a party with the intention of fucking and actually getting into bed with him, you both changed your minds and settled for the comfort of the other.  It’s the middle of the night, and you’re not in the mood to face the complications of your relationship right now, so you don’t. 

“I’m getting so old.”  

He doesn’t try and conceal his laugh, making it clear that he finds your statement ridiculous.  

“If you’re old then that means I am too.”  

“You’re right my bad.  We’re getting old.”  

That makes him laugh harder, the sound of it making you smile, heart warming. 

“Since when have you been concerned with age.”  

You can hear the sincerity in his voice, his genuine curiosity for something he’s never heard you mention before.  As you lay with your head on his shoulder, he brings a hand to play with your fingers, before settling for intertwining them.  He’s testing his boundaries right now, seeing how affectionate you’ll let him be before you eventually pull away, and he’s grateful when it seems like tonight you don’t feel like making him leave.  

“’m not concerned with age..”  

You trail off and he stays quiet, recognizing that you’re trying to find the right way to word this for him.  You love that he doesn’t rush you, that he waits until you find what it is you want to say.  

“I’m concerned that I’ve made it this far, but that I know so little.”  

He hums in acknowledgement, turning your words over in his head.  He knows that you have a lot on your mind, having talked with you like this many times before.  Admittedly in a less intimate context, but he’s familiar with you enough to know that you need to let everything out before you want to hear from anyone.  You curl into him a little more, moving your head from his shoulder to rest on his chest now.  From this position you can hear his heartbeat, making your eyes feel heavier and causing you to feel more tender.  Something about it makes you want to bare your heart to him, but you guess that’s just what it feels like to be with Sungchan.  

“At what age are you supposed to stop fucking up.” 

It’s mumbled into his chest, and if he wasn’t hanging onto your every word then he might’ve missed it.  His kneejerk reaction is to deny your words, tell you that you’re not a fuckup and that he wishes you saw yourself the way he did, but he knows it’s not what you need.  He presses the urge down, pursing his lips as he hums so that way you know that he heard you.

It’s quiet like that for a few more minutes, and you’re starting to give in to sleep.  His heartbeat is soothing, lulling your eyes closed.  Just feeling and hearing how he’s alive is enough for you to find comfort in.  You wonder if he knows how much it is that he helps you, maybe one day you’ll tell him.  You’re just about to fall asleep when he speaks again.  

“Remember how my car got hit last semester.”  

He thinks you might have fallen asleep when he doesn’t see you move, and secretly he hopes you did so he can stay with you like this a little bit longer.  

“In the H-mart parking lot right?”  

You do remember, you remember because although you felt bad for him, the story was hilarious.  He had just pulled into H-mart towards the back of the lot with the spaces on either side of him completely open.  You’re not sure why he didn’t immediately get out of his car, but you remember that he lingered a little bit before going into the store.  While he was waiting, the car in the space behind him managed to reverse directly into his car.  When Sungchan had left his car to get the other person’s information, all the person did was give him a hug, which he accepted, before they got back into their car and drove away.  When he told your friend group, all of you laughed until you had tears in your eyes.  

“My mom was so pissed at me for not getting their information, and everyone laughed at me for it, especially since it’s considered like the one thing you’re supposed to make sure to do in that situation.” 

You nodded your head, wondering where this was going but eager to hear him speak.  

“Initially I was so mad when it happened, I was already having a bad day and then that.  But when they got out of their car, it was a little old lady.  She was so apologetic.. how was I supposed to make her pay for that?”  

As he recounts the story, he sounds like he’s truly reliving the moment.  All you can picture is Sungchan, already upset after a long day, attitude immediately doing a 180 when he saw how upset the old woman was.  You picture how maybe he saw his own grandma in her, how he would never be able to bring himself to inconvenience someone that way.  It makes you think of how much shit he must have gotten from his parents and his friends, even when he did a good deed.  

“My point is, without context, my actions seem pretty foolish.  To most people, that was me fucking up, but I don’t feel that way..”  

He can feel the way your lips curl into a smile, the feeling making his heart beat a little faster.  You feel like Sungchan always knew what to say to make you feel better.  He knew that you didn’t need to be lectured, but he also knew that you weren’t one to accept mindless compliments.  Instead, he did his best to make sure that you knew that he was always right there with you, through whatever it is you were feeling, finding the middle ground where he could.  You nuzzle into him further, wrapping your arms around him as you close your eyes, ready for sleep.  

“Goodnight, Sungchan.”  

Things might look different in the morning, but you’re okay with what they look like right now.  You feel him pull up the duvet to cover the both of you, he tries not to move too much so as to not disturb you.  You can feel his eyes on you as you drift off, and right before you give into sleep, you feel his lips gently press against the top of your head. 

“Goodnight, y/n.”

-

That memory stings your heart now as you lay here in your bed staring at the ceiling, running moments through your head again and again.  All the warmth has left your room, and what’s left is you, curled up alone in the middle of your bed.  The signs of him that still linger only serve to mock you further, making you come face to face with the memory of what you said.  In the week that has passed you’ve been a shell of a person.  Only able to keep up appearances for work, and even then if someone looked too closely your puffy eyes and morose cadence would give you away.  But if anyone noticed they didn’t mention it, and you’re grateful for at least that.  

You confided in Shotaro 2 days after that night, it had been a tough day with everything going wrong.  Your last straw was your car refusing to start in the middle of the rain, so in your driver’s seat you skipped the scream of frustration and broke down in a mess of tears.  As you pulled up your contact list, your finger lingered a little too long over Sungchan’s contact.  Your mind filled with thoughts of him blocking you, why would he want to talk to you right now, what if you just hurt him more.  You shook the thoughts from your head as you scrolled past his contact and dialed the other person you knew you could trust.  You listened to the hum of each ring, Shotaro picking up on the 3rd one.  

“Y/n? Is everything okay?” 

On the other end of the line you sniffle, staring blankly through your windshield as you let the numbness of heartbreak consume you. 

“My car won’t start.”  

You note the confusion in his voice, and it’s evident in the pause that follows.  You picture him pulling the phone away from his ear to double check that it’s you who called.  On the other end of the line Shotaro wants so badly to ask why you didn’t just call Sungchan, but he can tell by your tone of voice that somethings not right.  When he hears your sniffles he stands to get ready to leave his apartment, gathering his things.

“Send me your location.”  

-

It took him about 5 minutes to get to you, and upon seeing you and the state you were in, Shotaro declared that he would just take you home, making promises to find a way to get your car back to you.  You sit in his passenger seat staring out the window, watching the lights of the buildings go by.  You don’t notice but every 2 seconds Shotaro takes a concerned glance at you through the rearview mirror.  When he notices you shivering he makes sure to turn the heat on in his car, quietly mumbling how summer rain can get cold.  You don’t respond, you just cast your eyes down to pick at your wet clothes.  You wonder if this is how Sungchan felt.  

When he pulls into the parking lot of your apartments, instead of just dropping you off, he parks and shuts off his car.  A beat of silence passes, and you know that he’s waiting for you to start.  You swallow the lump in your throat, letting a new wave of tears fall, accepting that there’s not a whole lot you can do to stop them in this situation.  

“I fucked up.”   

He nods to himself, taking in your words, debating what it is to say next.  He doesn’t think beating around the bush will do you any good, but he wants to be delicate given the state you’re in so he chooses to speak softly.  

“Is this about Sungchan?”  

When he watches the way you clench your eyes closed in an effort to fight the tears, he knows he’s hit the mark.  He reaches a hand out to rub your back, trying to be of comfort as you try and quiet the sounds you make as you cry.  In the passenger seat of his car, you look uncharacteristically fragile.  When you get your voice to feel a semblance of strong enough, you speak.  

“I tried to set him up with Karina because she said he liked him.”  

When Shotaro hears this he cringes, thinking about how it would make him feel, but he knows you better than to think that you would ever do something without a justification in your head.  

“I really thought I was helping him.. I thought maybe I was holding him back from finding the love it is he deserves.. something that he wasn’t finding with me.”

The pain in your voice bleeds through in your final sentence, all your vulnerabilities finally exposed.  From next to you he sighs, and you know he doesn’t do it to mock you.  He’s sympathizing with you, while simultaneously betting to himself that you didn’t convey that pain to Sungchan.  

“He showed up at my door in the rain and confronted me about it.  Somewhere in the middle of our argument he told me he liked me, and I thought he was just saying that to make me feel better.  I panicked and told him I couldn’t do it anymore..”

You hesitate before saying the next part, shutting your eyes in shame.  Like maybe if you close them hard enough you’ll be able to erase the feeling.  

“I told him I never should have let myself believe that we could be together.”  

You cry harder now, guilt overtaking you and making it hard to breathe.  All you can do is shake your head recalling your own recklessness.  

“Shotaro you should’ve seen the look on his face.  He’s gonna hate me forever.”  

You’re no longer trying to stop your sobbing, letting the pain and heartache course through you.  In the worst case scenario in your brain, Sungchan never speaks to you again.  And it’s only been 2 days but you don’t think you can do this forever.  But you’re trying really hard to be patient and wait until he wants to speak to you.  

Next to you Shotaro resists the urge to close his eyes and sighs to himself at his friends’ inability to just be completely honest with the other.  How can 2 people who clearly want each other so bad, be the only 2 people who can’t see it.  He thinks back to how he felt like this was a bad idea, both of you are too vulnerable, keeping things casual not in your vernacular, but he thought you would figure it out.  Even now he knows this can’t be the end of it, but you’re hurting right now, and judging from how he hasn’t seen Sungchan in a few days, he’s hurting too.  

“Sungchan could never hate you, he just needs time.” 

He’s still rubbing your back as you sob, it makes him sad to see his friend this way.  Especially when he feels like all of this could have been avoided easily.

“I know you don’t need me to tell you that both of you messed up because you already know it.  It’s not just you, you might not feel that way, but it took 2 to end up here.”  

It was your slip up that ended the argument, but he knows that Sungchan holds fault in this too.  You both should have just told the other how you feel.  You nod your head at his words, not quite believing them yet as you’re still feeling immense guilt, but you hope one day they’ll click.  He waits until you calm down enough to say his next words, wanting them to stick with you in hope that they comfort you and that you listen to him.  

“I know he’ll come around, and when he does, just be honest with him.”  

-

You hold Shotaro’s words close to your heart in the days following your conversation.  It feels like an impossible task to wait patiently for Sungchan to reach out, but you would wait forever if it meant in the end he would forgive you.  Which is why you do your best not to be heartbroken when Shotaro tells you that after Sungchan’s last exam, he made a trip back home which is where he’s at now.  You recall how he had been homesick towards the end of the semester, so you’re happy as your mind fills with thoughts of Sungchan receiving the love he deserves.  You hope that he’s happy at home, and that despite everything he’s able to have a good time and cherish the moments spent with his family.  

You’re now a full week out from the last time you saw him, and you wake up with hope in your heart for the first time since everything happened.  As the birthday messages roll in in the morning, you’re hoping to see his name pop up in your phone.  But it doesn’t come.  You do your best to stomach the bitter sting as you go throughout your day.  In an effort to soothe it you think about how he’s with his family, and how you don’t want him to think of you if it means ruining that.  But you can’t help but recall the calendar reminder he had proudly displayed to you 2 weeks prior.  

It lingers in your mind as you get ready for your day.  It lingers as you fulfill birthday plans with friends during the afternoon.  It lingers as you decorate your apartment for your party that night.  It lingers so much that by the time it reaches the evening, it feels like it’s eating you alive.  You do your best to remember Shotaro’s words of ‘he’ll come around.’  It’s just so hard.  

You’ve picked up a habit of bouncing your leg these last few days, a manifestation of your anxiety.  You’re doing it now as you sit and watch the clock on your living room wall.  Your last hope is that he shows for your party.  If he doesn’t do that, you’re not sure that there will be any coming back from this.  It’s still an hour out from the designated start time, but the longer you sit here, the more the decorations on your walls start to feel out of place.  The dress your wearing feels more like a costume and less like something you excitedly picked out a month ago in anticipation.  The frilly black fabric shifting with every bounce of your knee.  You fight every urge to get up and go change, instead doing your best to join in on the conversation with the friends who came over early to help set up.  

When people start to trickle in you feel nerves settle in your stomach, unintentionally holding your breath each time the door opens.  Every birthday wish from other people goes in one ear and out the other.  You’re grateful of course, but you can’t help that right now your mind is just elsewhere.  Your friends encourage you to participate in the parties activities, pushing drinks towards you that for the most part go unfinished.  Drinks will only lead to tears.  Through each conversation you smile and laugh, always keeping an eye on the door under the guise of wanting to be a good host.  You catch Shotaro’s eye and he smiles at you sympathetically, the only person here who knows why you’re keeping watch.  

As the night goes on, each minute that passes feels like a lifetime.  Your floors are starting to get sticky with the occasional drink spillage.  The music that plays feels just a tad too loud for your sensitive ears, and someone has definitely thrown up in your guest bathroom by now.  You pray to god that your neighbors forgive you for all the noise.  The mood is starting to shift for you into something a little more somber.  Sungchan deserves time and space, and you know that, but it breaks your heart the more time passes that he’s not here.  When the clock reads 11 p.m., you feel like it’s time to give up hope now.  If he was going to show he would have done so by now right?  

Tears are starting to sting your eyes, and somewhere in the back of your mind you tell yourself that you don’t want to be known as the girl who cried at her own birthday party.  Growing up is supposed to be fun, or at least that’s what has been pushed to you your whole life.  But everything is so awkward and hard.  Like now, you’re aware that you have so many people who care about you, some of which are in the room with you right now.  Yet, all you can think of is the one person who you want to be here right now who isn’t.  You take a glance at the cake that sits on your kitchen counter, counting the amount of candles as you sigh.  Maybe this year you won’t fuck up as bad, maybe this year it’ll be easier.  

When you look up from being lost in thought, you notice how everyone is immersed in their own conversation.  In the back of your head the thought of quietly slipping away finds it’s way into your mind.  You just want to step away and catch a breath, so you can calm down enough and get back to trying to have a good time.  So when the door opens again, you grab your keys and leave, praying that no one follows you.  As you look over your shoulder before shutting the door Shotaro catches your eye again.  You figure it’s good at least 1 person knows of your whereabouts so as you make your way down your building’s stairs you send him a courtesy message.  

You:  Too many sounds and smells, need a min brb :P  

When he doesn’t question it or try and force himself to join you and just responds with a thumbs up, you’re grateful to have such an understanding friend.  Truthfully you don’t really know where you’re going right now, you just wanted to step away for some air.  You contemplated walking to the corner store but that’s probably not the safest idea at this time of night.  As you make the small trek to your car, you’re so lost in thought of where you should go that you don’t notice the headlights coming from behind you.  It’s not until the car rolls to a stop next to you that you’re aware, an all too familiar voice shaking you from your thoughts. 

“y/n?” 

You turn at the sound of your name on instinct, all the feeling in your body leaving you.  

“Sungchan?”

The first thing you notice is that is definitely not his car, the sleek and shiny look a far cry from his beat-up Honda Civic. The second thing you notice is his appearance; you can’t see much but you can see that he’s dressed nicely, shedding his usual street style with something slightly dressier.  Dark tones of the clothing contrasting with his typical muted palette.  It dawns on you with an ache in your chest: you’re matching.  It’s subtle but it’s there, your color scheme looks like it was picked from the same shades.  You notice the present that sits in his passenger seat, glittery white tissue paper sticking out from the baby-blue gift bag.  He clears his throat awkwardly when he notices you staring.

“Were you going somewhere?”

You totally forgot the entire reason you were even out here, your car keys still intertwined in your fingers.  You don’t say anything, just motioning behind you like that explains everything, still in shock at seeing him.  But Sungchan doesn’t care, instead he seizes the opportunity in front of him.  

“Do you want a ride?” 

You don’t even think before you’re nodding your head, shaky legs carrying you over to his passenger side.  He moves the gift to his backseat so you’re able to sit.  When the door closes you try and sneak glances over at him.  Still unable to look him in the eyes, but trying to take in his proximity to you right now.  You’re bouncing your knee again and Sungchan notices, taking in the way the black fabric of your dresses moves with you.  There’s still an awkward air in the car, like there’s so much to say but neither of you know how to say it.  Instead, Sungchan puts the car in drive, taking you away from your apartment.  

“Where did you want to go?”  

You turn the question over in your head, still trying to work up the courage to look at him.  

“Somewhere we can talk.”  

When you look over at him to gauge his reaction you see a small smile make it’s way onto his lips.  Seeing it makes you feel like a fire has erupted in your chest, hope making it’s way back into your heart again.  As the city lights pass the two of you sit in silence, but it’s a comfortable one.  You both know that the other is waiting until you’re able to be in one place to say what you want to say.  The closer you get to your destination, the more you’re starting to recognize the sights of your drive.  He’s taking you to his place.  You think back to all the times you’ve made this drive and the feelings you felt then.  You can’t quite name how it is you’re feeling right now, but you know that this is definitely different from all of those times.  

In the quiet of your own thoughts, you don’t notice how Sungchan is sneaking glances at you.  Doing his best to resist the urge to reach out and touch you just to prove to himself that you’re close to him again.  He white knuckles the wheel the entire drive to his place, feeling relieved when the two of you finally pull into the parking garage of his complex.  You on the other hand feel a wave of nerves come over you as he pulls into his designated spot.  When he turns off the car and settles into the driver’s seat, you try and rack your brain for a place to start.  You spare a glance at the clock on your phone, noting the time:  11:32.  

“It’s late.” 

You say it without any vitriol behind it, simply just looking for something to say to fill the quiet space.  Sungchan knows this, but he still internally cringes at the time, recalling the events of his day.  

“I wanted to be here earlier I really did.  My piece of shit car wouldn’t start.. this is actually my moms.”

He scratches at the back of his head as he says it, slightly embarrassed about having to take his parent’s car.  

“But you still made it.”

He looks up at you when you say it, picking up on the joy in your voice.  When he catches your gaze he can see all of the emotion that lies in it, thinking that his probably looks the same.  

“Of course I did.”  

The way he looks at you sets your nerves alight, and you have to look away to resist the urge to kiss him.  You smile down at your lap, playing with the tulle of your dress, examining the way it lies against your skin.  You pick at a loose thread as you think of a way to say the next part, knowing that you’re going to have to confront the pain it is that both of you went through.  

“I didn’t mean what I said.. you know about us not being together.”

He’s looking at you now and your heart breaks at the fear in his eyes.  The urge to skip the conversation just so you can hold him close makes itself present.  You do your best to move past the discomfort when you recall Shotaro’s words about being honest.  Something about the quietness of the parked car makes everything feel more intimate.  Each of your words holding a little more weight than usual.  

“I think being with you is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but that’s only because I spent the whole time thinking that there’s no way it could have meant anything to you outside of the sex… like it had to be too good to be true.”  

As you recall your feelings you close your eyes, trying to push down the pain.  Your own heart aches for how you felt, you pick at your nails in an effort to keep yourself here right now instead of in the past.  Sungchan can’t help but feel like you feel so far away right now, despite your close proximity.  He wants to hold your hand through every word, sit with you and walk through how it is you feel.  But he sees how much effort it’s taking you to open up and he doesn’t want to ruin it. 

“Having so much of you and none of you at all was eating me up inside.. I thought maybe I was holding you back from the love you deserve to feel and I let my own insecurities get to me.  I’m so sorry Sungchan.  I should’ve said it sooner but I knew you needed space.”  

After all of the words are out, you feel so small.  All of your feelings exposed to the one person who they centered around.  A moment passes, with your words just sitting in the air as you stare at your lap.  When he reaches a hand out to grab yours you feel like you might die.  

“The truth is, after I  left, I immediately wanted to turn back around.”

He lets out a laugh when he recalls that moment.  That was how he knew that all he was ever gonna want was you.  

“I only ever wanted things to go at your pace, which is why I went so long without saying anything.  Honestly I was fine with everything as long as I was next to you.” 

You squeeze his hand at those words, feeling overcoming you.  As you take in his words you can’t help but notice how similarly the both of you were thinking.  He stares at where your fingers are interlocked, thinking about how back then he never had the guts to just reach for your hand.  

“I think I should have been braver and just told you how I feel.”

You shake your head at his words, thinking to yourself that you should have done the same.  His thumb brushes over your knuckles, a comforting motion for the both of you.  There’s one thought that still lingers in your brain, your biggest fear in all of this.  When you speak your voice is a whisper, words hanging heavy to you in the small interior of the car.  

“I thought you were gonna hate me forever.”

“I could never hate you.” 

His response is immediate, looking at you as he says it like he needs you to at least hear that.  You stare at his face, taking him in for the first time in a week.  He looks a little tired, like his rest hasn’t been well, mirroring your own.  But he’s still the prettiest boy ever.  You can’t help yourself now, reaching a hand across the small space between you to touch his face.  The moment is delicate, an indication that all is resolved.    He sits up from the driver’s seat abruptly, like he just remembered something before reaching into his backseat.  He pulls out the gift bag from earlier, placing it in your hands excitedly.

A smile makes its way to your face as you pull apart the paper.  He watches on expectantly, as you come face to face with a small black box sitting at the bottom.  You open it to see a delicate necklace; a simple gold chain with a sun engraved pendant.  He remembers his trip to the mall with Shotaro, how he agonized over finding the perfect gift to display what it is you meant to him.  When he saw the necklace he thought about how nicely it would lay against you, silently hoping that every time you saw it you would think of him.  

As you take it from the box he silently awaits your approval, and it comes when you smile at him and place a kiss on his cheek.  You push it into his hands as you lean forward, Sungchan taking the hint immediately.  Gently, he places the necklace on you, fingers brushing the back of your neck as he messes with the clasp.  The accidental touch sends shivers down your spine, but you do your best to will it away right now.  

“Happy birthday.”

The second the words leave his lips you’re leaning forward over the console of the car to kiss him.  It’s gentle, the way you press your lips to his, Sungchan bringing a hand up to cup your face.  It reminds you of the first time you kissed and you can’t help but smile fondly against his lips at the thought.  He deepens the kiss as you place your hands against his chest to keep yourself steady.  The both of you think about how right this feels, like you were always meant to end up in this moment.  When you pull away to catch your breath, a thought pops into your head.  

“No birthday text?”

You’re just messing with him, trying to make the mood a little lighter but it’s funny to see the way he scrambles to explain himself. 

“I thought it would be too awkward.. you know given the circumstances.”

“..Are you gonna make it up to me?”

When you say those words with a bite to your lip, it has Sungchan immediately leaning in to kiss you again.  You pull away just before he’s able to reach you, a frown making it’s way onto his face at the action.  

“I love you but I’m not about to fuck you in your mom’s car.” 

“Who said we were gonna have sex?”

You roll your eyes at him, hitting his shoulder as he just laughs from beside you.  He steps out of the car, running to your side to get the door for you before you can open it yourself.  It always makes you giggle but deep down you find it extremely endearing of him.  You lead the walk up to his apartment, his proximity to you making you nervous with each step.  He keeps his hands low on your hips as he trails behind you to urge you forward and all it does is send heat between your thighs.  The short fabric of your dress bounces with every step and it drives Sungchan fucking crazy.  He’s practically vibrating from excitement when the two of you finally make it up to his, fumbling with his keys.  You would make fun of him for it, but you’re not faring much better.  

Once your finally inside he’s crowding you against his door, his large frame towering over you.  He brings a hand to cup your jaw, thumb brushing over your bottom lip in the same way he did it for the first time all those weeks ago.  You shy away from his gaze, looking down to try and settle your heart, but he’s not having any of it.  He brings his face closer to yours, lips just barely brushing against yours as he speaks.

“where’d all your boldness go?”

Self-satisfaction bleeds through his chest at the way you can’t look at him.  When the two of you are like this, it’s evident the effect he has on you.  He presses you further into the door, moving closer to you so a leg is between yours.  The lack of having him like this for 2 weeks makes everything feel just on the verge of too much.  When you don’t respond he kisses at your neck, a silent ‘hm?’ leaving him like he’s expecting a response.  He’s grateful for the bareness of your shoulders that your dress allows.  You tilt your neck to the side to allow more room for him as he places a hand on small of your back to press you closer to him.  When you feel his teeth sink into your shoulder you can’t help but whimper, grabbing his shirt in your hands to give you stability.  

Sungchan missed all your sounds, and he missed how sensitive you were.  Each reaction you have to his touch sending him to cloud 9.  The week not talking to you was hell, and although it was the last thing on his mind at the time, the two weeks of not being inside of you was also hell.  His proximity to you in this moment makes him feel like he’s high.  When he feels you shyly grind against his thigh as his lips press against your pulse, he feels like he’s gonna go crazy.  

His lips are back on yours again, the hand on the small of your back urging you to keep moving against him.  As you drag your hips against him you let out little gasps into his mouth as he kisses you through it.  You’re mostly doing the movement yourself, Sungchan’s hand on your back just a silent guide.  It makes you feel dirty as you really take in how you can feel the fabric of his pants on your cunt through your panties.  He can feel the heat radiating from you as you grind on his thigh and it makes him groan.  He pulls away from you then, watching the way you move your hips on your own, eyes closed in bliss as you give yourself over to the feeling.  The sight makes him bite his lip, an idea popping into his head.  Slowly he brings a hand to slide one of your dress straps off your shoulder, playing with the necklace that rests against you, making sure you feel the way his fingers glide against you.  He trails kisses from your shoulder up to your ear, making sure to leave an occasional bite. 

“Just feels so good, hm?”  

As he says this he presses his leg further into you, the new angle making you whine.  The sensations are overwhelming, and Sungchan is using that to his advantage.  You haven’t even made it to his bedroom and you’re practically already falling apart for him, the thought making him painfully hard.  Foreplay with you was always one of his favorite things, he revels in finding out what it takes to get you worked up.  He makes it a silent game with himself to try and see how worked up he can get you to be before he finally gives into what you want.  This is one of those times.  

When he feels your hips speed up in an effort to chase more pleasure, he abruptly pulls away from you.  Without him there to keep you up you nearly collapse against his door, his arm catching you before you give way.  When you look up at him for the first time since making it into his place, the look on his face makes him looks like he wants to swallow you whole.  It only makes you want him more as he pulls you down the hallway of his apartment into his bedroom.  Slowly, he backs you up towards his bed until the back of your knees are hitting the edge.  For a second he just stands there, admiring the way you’re practically shivering.  He brings a hand up to your jaw, tilting your face towards his.  

“What are you so shy for?”  

He smiles mockingly at you as he says it, fully aware of the way he makes you feel.  Typically when you sleep together he never says anything about having to take the lead.  But something about today makes him feel the need to play with you more.  

Instead of answering him, you sit on his mattress, spreading your legs as you do so in an attempt to tell him what you want.  And if that wasn’t enough, you push your hands up the skirt of your dress, hooking your fingers into the sides of your panties before you slowly start to drag them down.  His reaction is almost immediate, collapsing in front of you as he places his hands over yours to help you pull them down.  You would make fun of him for it if you weren’t just as desperate.  

He throws them somewhere on his bed before you feel his fingers trailing their way up the tops of your thighs; you can’t help the way you automatically try and prop your hips up for him.  You both watch the way his hand slides under your dress before disappearing under the fabric.  He looks at you when he finally makes contact with your core.  Sungchan practically moans when he discovers just how wet you are as his fingers explore you.  When he just barely brushes over your sensitive clit, your hips buck into his hand.  It’s completely unintentional and Sungchan can’t help but find it so fucking hot.  He presses his fingers harder into your clit, preening at the way you whine out his name.  

As he starts to rub in circles you fall back against his bed, the feeling just too good.  Sungchan breaks away from you briefly so he can climb on top of you.  Sitting up next to you so he can see all of you.  When you reach a hand out to grab onto the hand that’s propping him up his heart melts.  He leans down to kiss you, fingers continuing to pull you apart just by playing with your clit.  His hand is practically soaked at this point and he resists the urge to bring it to his mouth so he can taste you.  Impatience getting the best of him as he moves two of his fingers to prod at your entrance.  You feel so hot right now against his fingers and if he thinks about it too long, Sungchan thinks he may start to feel dizzy.  

“Such a messy little baby.”

It’s mumbled against your lips as he finally presses his fingers into you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. He presses kisses all over your face as he eases his fingers in gently, shallowly thrusting to get you to open up for him.  He thinks about how much he missed this feeling and how he’s never gonna give it up again.  When he sinks in all the way to his knuckles he stays there for a minute, enjoying the way you feel wrapped around him.  

He catches you starting to try and move your hips on your own, amused at the way you’re trying to fuck yourself on him right now.  Instead of making fun of you for it, he slowly starts thrusting them in and out, making sure to press against your upper walls with each slide into you.  You bring your knees up to your chest so he can slide in at a better angle, and when you do the feeling is heavenly.  You can hear the sounds your pussy is making and it makes your cheeks burn, hands coming up to hide your face.  All Sungchan can do is coo down at you, leaning down on his elbow instead of resting on his hand so he can be closer to you.  

“My pretty birthday girl.”  

You missed his pet names so much, a possessive feeling overcoming you at the thought of how often you’ll get to hear them now.  You turn your head to the side, and when you do you see your panties.  Sungchan follows your gaze, looking at the delicate piece of fabric that lays against his sheets.  As he stares at them it makes him think of the other pairs you’ve given to him, starting with the first pair you gave him the first night you hooked up.  You never asked him what he did with them, just handing them over to him if you caught him looking at them too longingly.  Eventually they would be returned to you anyway, but as you stare at them curiosity burns through you.  It’s like Sungchan reads your mind, because as you stare at them he speaks up.  

“Do you want to know what I do with your panties?” 

The look on his face is mischievous, eyes full of lust as he spares a glance down to where his fingers are still buried deep within you.  You feel a third start to press against your opening as you nod your head.  When he gently starts working the third one into you he tells you.  

“I keep them for the nights when I’m really horny but can’t get to you..”

After his fingers are sunk all the way in he stills them again, letting you adjust to the stretch of the additional finger.  

“When I just can’t get the way you sound out of my head.. every little reaction.. the way your eyes get watery when you want to cum.. the way you take everything I give you so nicely..”

Sungchan can physically feel the way his words are affecting you, each dirty sentence that falls from his lips causing you to squeeze down around his fingers.  It only fuels the fire he has to keep going, making eye contact with you as he speaks.

“I just can’t help but touch myself to the thought of you, you make me so hard it hurts.. but sometimes it’s just not enough.” 

He shakes his head as he says this for emphasis. He’s moving his fingers now, thrusting all 3 of them into you at a steady pace, the way his knuckles rub against you feeling heavenly.  

“In those moments, I take your panties and I wrap them around me as I get off.  It’s kind of cute it’s like you’re there with me.”

He smiles sweetly as he says this, like he didn’t just confess to you that he jerks off with your panties.  

“If I need you really bad, sometimes I’ll just breathe them in.  I can always still smell you on them and it drives me crazy.”  

His dirty confession makes you feel like your whole body is on fire.  You think about Sungchan in this very room, lights dim as he jerks off with one hand holding your panties to his face.  You think about him with them wrapped around his cock.  You think about how he’s returned every pair to you after about a week, and how you’ve gone on to wear them again.  You’re starting to think perhaps he’s a little more possessive than he lets on.  When he sees the dazed look on your face as you take in what he says he feels satisfied.  He can feel you clenching around him sporadically now, making sure his palm is grinding into your clit.  When your body seizes up he’s right there next to you, kissing you through your first orgasm of the night.  It’s sweet the way he tries to ground you with gentle presses of his lips against yours as you cling to him like he’s your lifeline.  Sungchan thinks he might pass out at the way you clamp down so tightly around him, imagining how you’ll feel wrapped around him.  He’s brought back to the present when he feels you start to push on his hand, the sensitivity a little too much.  

He let’s out a sheepish ‘sorry baby’ before he gently slides his fingers out of you.  You lie there, just breathing and trying to catch your breath as Sungchan presses the occasional kiss to your face, just observing you.  

“You okay baby?” 

There’s genuine concern in his voice, and it makes you feel warm inside the way he checks up on you.  

“’m good.”  

You smile up at him, bringing a hand to his face so you can cup his cheek like you did earlier.  

“You’re so pretty, Sungchan.”

You find it amusing how he blushes at the compliment, like he didn’t just have his fingers buried in you.  You sit up from your place on the bed and he follows your lead.  He’s so hard it hurts, but if you were done for the night then he wasn’t gonna say anything.  When you reach a hand to start palming him he feels like he might combust.  He stills your hand, stopping you from touching him so he can check in on you.  

“You want more?”  

You pout your pretty lips at him, nodding like it’s the most obvious thing in the world because of course you do.  

“I need you inside me.”  

He definitely wasn’t expecting you to say those words, shock evident on his face making you smirk.  Truthfully you can only be bold when your head is completely clear, your post orgasm clarity giving you a level head enough to fuck with him right now.  He gets up from the bed to take off his clothes, finally revealing himself to you.  When he takes off his shirt, you blatantly ogle him, having been deprived of the sight for too long.  You move to stand so you can pull off your own dress but he stops you before you can.  

“Leave it on.”  

His request sends heat down your spine, making you needy again.  You watch as he makes his way to his bedside drawer to grab a condom, words falling from your mouth before he can reach for the handle.  

“Wait”

He looks up at you, confused as of to why you stopped him so suddenly.  You look away shyly, trying to find a less awkward way to say what you want to say, but you find that there isn’t one.  

“We don’t need one..”  

He stares at you like a deer in the headlights, shocking him yet again.  Don’t get him wrong the prospect is exciting and makes him feel like he might die, but he has to double check.  

“You sure?”

“Please.”

That’s all it takes before he’s finding himself back to you on his bed, sitting up against his headboard.  You make your way over to him and he helps you climb up on top of him.  When you feel the familiar touch of his strong hands helping you in place you just about lose it.  If there’s a feeling you can claim that you missed the most it’s definitely that one.  He pulls down the top of your dress to expose your tits as you’re sat back on his thighs.  He leaves kisses all over your chest, sucking marks where he can as you press your chest closer to his face.  When he's satisfied he pulls away, pulling you closer to him so your hips hover over his.  

You’re sat on top of his lap, dress now hiked up around your waist as you cling to his shoulders.  Nails pressed into his skin, you shook with the effort to hold yourself up as he slid his cock through your folds, gathering your wetness.  Each slide against your clit had you gasping, doing your best to stay still as he prepped himself.  When his tip caught on your hole you couldn’t help but whine, composure slipping slightly as you pressed yourself down, nearly fitting the head in before you felt his strong grip on your waist, pulling you back up. 

“Let me take my time.”

You shiver at the display of strength and authority, clenching around nothing as he goes back to sliding his cock between your folds.  Sungchan was always patient with you, doing whatever it is that you wanted when the two of you fucked. Seeing him take what it is that he wanted instead of giving into you immediately only made you more turned on.  So you sat there as he toyed with you, his satisfaction growing at seeing you be so desperate for him, taking what he gives you without complaint even if it’s just minor touches to your clit.  When your head starts to droop, he leans forward, mouth next to your ear as he speaks.  

“You want it baby?”  

When you feel him prodding at your entrance again you let out an embarrassingly loud whimper.  

“Please Sungchan”

He slides through your folds again and you nearly wail, impatience growing within you.  

“But I dunno if it’s gonna fit baby.. it’s been two weeks..”  

He pouts at you in faux sympathy, withholding himself from you to make you frustrated.  When you feel him bite your earlobe as he teases your entrance again before sliding away you finally break.  

“Sungchan it hurts, you’re being so mean..” 

Your voice is so whiny when it comes out you barely recognize it.  He pulls away from your ear at the sound to look at you and the sight nearly makes him lose all of his self-control.  Your eyes are hazy with lust, a frown worn on your pretty face, your kiss-swollen bottom lip quivering, birthday dress completely disheveled; he really has pulled you apart.  

“Please make it better, just need you to make it all better it’s been so long.”

Hearing you beg for him, it takes all his strength and then some to not push into you without warning.  But it’s been too long and he doesn’t want to hurt you, no matter how mean he’s being right now.  

“Am I being mean to my sweet girl?”

He laughs to himself when you nod your head.

“Want me to kiss it better, hm?”

“What I really want is for you to fuck me.”

He senses the snark starting to creep into your words with your growing impatience and in an effort to show you where the power really lies right now he rests the head at your entrance.  It takes his everything not to laugh in your face when immediately your demeanor changes, eyes going soft and jaw going slack.  He would do this all night to you if you let him, but his resolve crumbles the next time you speak.

“Sungchan please.. ‘s still my birthday.  Want to be spoiled by my boyfriend..”  

You know you’ve got him when you hear the way his breath stutters in his chest, hand on your waist tightening.  It’s like he’s in a trance the way he leans forward to kiss you, it’s messy and when he pulls away he’s leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck.  Finally, finally, he’s pushing in, giving in to what you want and what he’s been making you wait for.  It’s so agonizingly slow, you know it’s for your own good but even then you’re just so impatient.  When you feel the head slide past that tight ring, you feel the air get knocked out of you, it’s just been too long.  Sungchan’s not faring much better, teeth grit with his hands on your waist, trying to remind himself that he needs to take his time for you, no matter how wet and hot you feel on his bare cock.  You’re just so tight, and with each bit he pushes in further it’s like you just get tighter.  

“Let me in baby.”

“’m trying.”

The way you’re clenching around him is almost too much to handle, but you can’t help it.  In the two weeks the two of you have spent apart you’ve managed to forget just how full he makes you feel.  You’re shaking like a leaf with each inch he slides in, the stretch just bordering on too much.  When you finally feel your hips touch his you try and relax against him but you’re just so sensitive.  You press your face into the crook of his neck as you try and even out your breathing. 

“Still with me?”  

You don’t trust your voice right now so you just nod, keeping your face hidden.  Sungchan lets you take your time, waiting for you to make the first move.  He can feel the way you’re clenching around him as you try and adjust to the size, fingers digging into your sides at the feeling.  When you experimentally rock your hips he lets out a groan, nearly crying when you motion for him to start helping you.  

He helps guide you up, taking it slow as you sink down.  The first thrust stealing all the air from your lungs.  In this position he’s just so deep, it feels like you can feel him everywhere.  You continue with your slow pace, Sungchan being patient as you try and get used to the feeling.  He presses a kiss to your temple, waiting for you to let him guide the pace. You sit up and all you have to do is pout at him, Sungchan immediately taking the hint.  

His grip on your sides gets tighter, and you revel in the thought of there being marks left on you again after so long.  When he starts controlling the pace, helping you rock up and down, you bite at his shoulder.  The sounds you make only fuel him to start bringing his hips up to meet yours.  When he does he feels you cling onto him tighter, scratching at the tops of his shoulders.  

He knows he’s fucking you good, and it strokes his ego so much, knowing that only he can have you this way.  He looks down at where your connected, bunching the skirt of your dress up so he can see it fully.  The sight of him sinking in and out of you fills him with a sense of possessiveness, but also with a sense of pride.  Because now he knows that its him that you want.  

“Sungchan.”

You moan his name so sweetly he wants to hear that sound for the rest of his life.  He pulls you away from the crook of his neck to really look at you.  You’re so disheveled, looking the epitome of fucked out.  He knows that he’s not gonna last very long, and judging by the way you’re squeezing around him he can tell you aren’t either.  He puts all of his effort into fucking you as good as he can, each thrust hitting you just right.  You hear him whine as he’s getting close, his movements growing sloppy.  When you finally cum it triggers his own release, his head falling into the crook of your neck as he thrusts up into you.  He shivers as he fucks himself through it, the feeling of filling you up at the forefront of his mind.  Like clockwork he asks what he always asks, but it means something different this time.  

“mine?”

“all yours.”

He collapses against the headboard when he finishes riding out his high, holding you in his arms.  You’re both a mess of sweat and sex, but it doesn’t bother either of you.  You know that the cleanup has to eventually come, but you’d rather sit in this moment a little longer.  When his fingers trace along your back, he feels nervous at the question lingering on his lips. 

“Want to go on a date tomorrow?”  

He feels the way you hold him a little tighter, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before looking at him.  

“Of course.”

[thedreamlessnights]

Someone to shed some light - pt. 5

Astarion x gn!reader (NSFW)

{series masterlist}

Synopsis: You and Astarion come across the camp, and its discovery adds a complication to the mix. The two of you share an intimate night together.

Warnings: 18+ - Blood drinking, mentions of past abuse. Explicit sexual content. Penetrative sex, fingering, first time sex.

Word Count: 7.7k

A/N: As you can see, this chapter is an eventful one. I hope you'll all enjoy! This story is going to get wild, and we're going to start seeing some new (and perhaps familiar) faces 👀 Also, thank you so much to @aerynwrites for making the amazing header image and for looking over this chapter! I appreciate you so much ♥

The thick, awkward silence in the air follows you all the way to the stream - tailing along with you like it’s your shadow.

You’ve never been more grateful to see a body of water in your entire life, and it’s not due to the thirst slowly building in your mouth, or the grime on your skin itching to be cleaned off. It’s because you’re dying to do something that isn’t walking, dying to curb the silence, and dying to think of anything that isn’t Cazador.

How long have the two of you been traveling, now? How long since you’d come across Gandrel? The trees have been too dense to tell the time with any accuracy, but there’s a break of them over the water, and the sun is mid-sky when you glance at its position. 

Hours, maybe. 

Hours of thinking up a thousand different conversation topics. Trying to find something to fill the deadening quiet. None of them seemed appropriate, though; not in the aftermath of finding out that an evil vampire had enslaved Astarion for two centuries and is now relentlessly hunting him. What could you possibly say after that? 

Nothing, you’d eventually decided. You’d say nothing. But that hadn’t made any of it any better. 

The camp shouldn’t be far, now. But that can wait.

You sink to your knees on the bank, taking a handful of the mercifully cool water and splashing it over your face. It’s sweet when you bring it to your lips, blissful on your burning-hot skin, and you can’t help letting out a sigh of relief.

“I can’t wait to get out of these woods,” you say softly, more for yourself.

“They were your idea, my sweet,” Astarion replies, somewhere behind you. 

“Freedom was my idea,” you combat defensively. “The woods just happened to be a temporary part of that.”

“If you’re planning to run from my mother, then it certainly won’t be temporary,” Astarion says. “I’d become very, very friendly with the woods if I were you.”

You drop your hands, shaking away the remaining water as you try - and fail - to bite away your frustration. “Why can’t she leave me alone? All I want is to go back to my home.”

“And I want to wake every morning with a virgin at my side,” he snipes, every word laced with melodramatic condescension, “but life doesn’t give us what we want.” 

This time, your anger cuts through your chest like a knife as you shift to face him. “Well!” you exclaim. “Congratulations then, Astarion, because you do!”

He freezes, a glint in his eye, and you know you’ve made a grave error. “Do I, now?” he purrs. “Interesting.”

You ignore him, turning back to the stream, but your cheeks go hot. “Well?” you finally say. “Are you going to get cleaned up or not?”

To your surprise, he doesn’t respond.

You glance at him and find him staring at the water like it’s a poisonous bog. “Oh, come now, Your Highness. Don’t tell me the stream isn’t good enough for you?”

He scowls at you, but his gaze is quick to flit back to the stream as he speaks. “Running water used to burn like acid, dearest. I’ve never tested if it still does.”

Your mouth snaps shut. No more teasing him, you resolve. It’s only making you look like a complete ass. “Oh,” you finally say.

Astarion sinks down into a squat, hesitantly dipping his fingers into the water and giving a hum. “Well. I suppose that answers that question,” he says, shifting onto his knees.

He’s just as dirty as you feel. Gandrel’s blood is splattered all over him, and the grime of the woods has etched streaks of dirt onto his skin. Somehow, despite all of that, he’s still as beautiful as always. Maybe even more so, like this.

You feel a strange sense of disappointment when he starts rinsing the mess away.

It’s blazing hot out. It was easier to ignore earlier when you were under the shade, but the light is in full effect over the stream, and it’s unavoidable, now. You’re covered in sweat and dirt and the gods know what else. The itch to get clean is maddening.

At first, you try splashing water onto your skin and your filthy shirt, but all it ends up doing is drenching yourself - not cleaning anything at all. You’re left dirty, wet, and frustrated, and, well. Who knows when the next bathing spot will be. You’re already soaked…

You peel off your shoes and socks, get to your feet and take two steps back, then jump in.

The water is freezing cold, but it’s wonderful - euphoric under the pounding sun. It washes away the dirt and blood and sweat with ease, carrying them away as you kick around. The mild current feels like silk over your limbs. For a moment, you even float around on your back, enjoying the peaceful murmur of the water.

Then you remember that you aren’t alone, and you go upright. Astarion is watching you with a mixture of curiosity and disdain, distracted from his task. As soon as he sees you looking, he instantly goes back to trying to clean the stains out of his shirt - which is going about as well for him as it had been for you.

You watch his struggle for a moment before a string of words leave your lips. Words that wouldn’t have come out if you’d taken the time to think about it. 

“You should join me!”

He glances at the water. It’s completely clear and a beautiful blue, but that doesn’t seem to matter to him. “Darling,” he says, letting out a haughty laugh, “you want me to jump in there? Only the gods know what’s in that water.”

“You’re using it to clean your shirt,” you point out, “which isn’t going very well, Your Highness. It’ll be the closest thing to a bath for miles.”

He simply scowls in response, and you shake your head.

“Alright,” you relent. “Stay up there in the heat, then, covered in blood and dirt. Just don’t start complaining to me when you start to feel dirty.”

His scowl deepens, but he gives up on the shirt and shifts until he’s sitting on the edge of the bank. “Fine,” he says sharply. He looks down and hesitates, tilting his head. Is he wondering how deep it is? If water used to burn, then he probably hasn’t gone swimming in…

Two centuries. 

You let yourself stand, your toes sinking into the mud. The water isn’t much higher than your rib cage, and the crease between Astarion’s brows fades away. Following in your lead, he takes off his boots and socks, then lets himself slide into the water. He grimaces for a moment at the temperature, sinks under the surface, and comes up sopping, wiping water out of his eyes.

You almost feel bad, looking at that silvery mop of curls, but he doesn’t say anything. He simply pushes the mass of wet hair out of his face, then resumes his process of cleaning the blood out of his shirt. Or, trying to. It seems thoroughly fixed into the cream fabric.

For some reason, your attention on him feels like an invasion of a private moment, so you take to making sure you’re cleaned off, averting your gaze - especially when he takes off his shirt to scrub away the stains. The brief flash of porcelain skin you catch has your cheeks blooming with heat; it’s the most you’ve ever seen of him.

To distract yourself, you speak. “I’m surprised you actually got in.”

“Well,” he says. “Unfortunately, my warm baths have been conveniently misplaced. This will have to suffice.”

“Of course,” you mutter, paddling absentmindedly through the water. “For a moment there, I thought you might like something that’s remotely fun. My mistake.”

You’re still turned away, which is why the splash of water that hits you catches you by surprise. “Oh, you bastard,” you gasp, instantly sending another splash back at him.

He pauses, flashing you a wicked grin, and then you’re hit with another one, and another, and another. You’re splashing him back as much as you can and trying to swim away from the splash zone, and he’s splashing you, and you’re both breathless and calling taunts into the air. The sun is in your eyes, and water is in your lungs, and for a brief, blissful moment, it’s like all your worries have slipped away.

When the two of you are finally worn out, muscles aching, you push your way to the shore and lay on the grass, trying to catch your breath as your eyes flutter shut. The sun is golden and warm overhead, and with your now-drenched clothes, it feels wonderful. 

A moment after you’ve gotten out, Astarion joins you. You hear the light thump of his wet shirt landing on the grass next to you, and then he’s sighing. “Gods - it’s hopeless,” he mutters. “Hopefully one of those Zhentarim knew something about fashion.”

 His footsteps head back to his pack, but the feeling of warm sun on your skin is relaxing enough to keep you where you are as he digs around. When he stalls, you finally sit up, coughing some of the leftover water out of your lungs. Another joke is poised on your lips, but when you catch sight of his back, the words turn to ash on your tongue.

The soft pink lines seem like an intricate tattoo at first, but as your eyes continue to take it in, you realize that the skin is raised - far too much to ever be a tattoo. Scars. They’re scars.

You only see them for that brief moment before Astarion has found a new shirt and pulled it over himself, blocking out the sight of them, but even after they’re gone, the markings burn under your eyelids.

He turns to face you, and when he sees your face, the lightheartedness in his eyes immediately fades to something sharper. He knows you’ve seen.

“Your back,” you say softly. “It must have been painful.”

He looks away. “A gift from Cazador,” he says, his voice surprisingly soft. “A poem. He spent the night carving it into me.” He pauses, and pain flashes over his eyes. “He made a lot of adjustments as he went.”

You briefly think to yourself that - evil, powerful vampire or not - if you ever come face-to-face with Cazador Szarr, you’ll tear him to shreds with your bare hands.

Gods. You want to say that you’re sorry, but you already know Astarion won’t take it well. He clearly despises pity, and you’re not going to give it to him. 

Instead, you get to your feet, ignoring the way your drenched clothes now stick to you, and head to your pack. “Why didn’t your mother kill him?”

He scoffs. “Believe me, she tried. Unfortunately, killing a vampire isn’t exactly easy. Rescuing me was the main priority, and, honestly? It was a miracle she even managed that.”

You nod, picking at a loose string on your sleeve. “Do you have any idea where he is now?”

“Baldur’s Gate, no doubt,” he replies stiffly. “In his ridiculous palace. He’s a Lord, you know.”

Ridiculous palace. It’s an ironic thing for him to say, but then you recall that Astarion probably doesn’t enjoy Erelin’s palace, either. Then, very much delayed, the reality of his words sinks in. “Hold on. You mean to say that there’s an evil vampire lord in Baldur’s Gate, and no one knows?”

“Oh, some do; they just don’t care,” he says, tilting his head. “You see - it’s all about power. He has a fair amount, and people will do anything to get even a taste of it. You should see his servants. They come to the door, begging for his eternal gift, and they’re stupid enough to think he’ll give it to them if they work hard enough.”

The concept of that is sickening. You fear nothing more than being thrown back into your personal prison, and here people are, volunteering to be in one - and one that’s far, far worse than yours, at that. All for what? Immortality? It doesn’t even remotely appeal to you. 

From the look on his face, Astarion feels the same way. 

Gods. You can’t even imagine what he’s experienced; not even half of it. Everything you’ve been through pales in drastic comparison to his two centuries of torture. Shame sweeps deep through your gut, dark and oozing, and it’s all you can do to not despise yourself. 

Still - he complains about the petty things more than you do. And he hadn’t faulted you for wanting to run. He’d just told you not to bother, because you’d be caught.

“I don’t understand them,” you remark quietly, gathering up your things. “I can’t… imagine wanting something so much I’d give up my freedom for it.”

He shakes his head, and something reproachful paints itself into his expression. “Power is addictive, dearest. You’ll learn that soon enough.”

You sling your pack over your shoulder once more, and Astarion follows in your lead. “Well,” you say, “I suppose we’d better see what that camp is all about.”

You smell the camp before you see it.

The smoke you’d seen yesterday has faded in the air, but the smell of it is present: a distant, hazy odor that lingers in the forest. You and Astarion squat down to be safe, observing from behind the treeline, and it becomes immediately clear what it is.

Banners of silver and blue - those are Calthirian colors. This is your kingdom. What’s left of it, at least. 

You’d been right. This rebellion is a prominent force, from the looks of it. No wonder Erelin had married you off instead of fighting. Still, it makes you wary to go waltzing straight into the place, expecting everything to turn out right. A level of paranoia lays over your skin like sweat, making it hard to think clearly. What if someone recognizes you? Do they know what you look like?

“Well,” Astarion remarks, “I suppose we’ve received our answer. And now that we have, we should be on our merry way.”

“Unfortunately,” you murmur in agreement. “You don’t think they’d give us directions to the nearest village?” It’s a long shot, and mostly a joke, but having traveled all this way to leave no better off is a sinking disappointment. 

“They’d sooner recruit us,” Astarion answers. “Or kill us.”

You stare for a moment longer, then shake your head. “All right - new plan, then. We get the hells away from here. I’ll scale another tree and see if I can see anything.”

Astarion frowns, but doesn’t seem to have any better ideas. He follows silently as you creep through the woods, watching out for any nearby scouts. 

You don’t like this place. It feels ominous, in a way. 

Your breathing doesn’t return to normal until you’re a decent amount away, and you can’t help feeling like you’ve narrowly avoided something awful. Astarion stays on the ground while you climb another tree, and this time, the forest provides something very useful to you. 

A city. Your city.

Baldur’s Gate, in all her glory, lies in the distance. It’ll take days, maybe even a week, to get there - but gods, is the sight of her a relief. Warm beds. Familiar faces. These days, there’s not many people you trust, but the ones you do are all in Baldur’s Gate. If you’re ever going to find any true escape, it’s there.

And, you think, your stomach sinking, there’ll be Ancunín outposts for Astarion to get back to his mother. 

Astarion is pacing along the base of the tree when you hop down again, and his eyes brighten when he looks at you. “Gods. You saw something, didn’t you?”

“Baldur’s Gate,” you tell him, unable to mask the smile that spreads over your lips. “It’s a few days away, but it’s there.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Astarion sighs. “I couldn’t take much more of this.”

But you know what he’s really saying. He’ll finally get back to safety.

The two of you will have to have a talk sooner or later. You aren’t sure if he’s expecting you to return with him, and you’re not keen on arguing with him. You don’t want to leave him, but if it comes down to it - you can’t go back to Erelin. 

Can’t, not won’t. It’s not even a choice. Every part of you rejects the suggestion like an unsuccessful transplant; every inch of you viscerally objects to returning to that palace. You’d bring him with you if you could, but you know that he’d never feel safe. Not while Cazador is out there, hunting for him.

The realization sombers the air as the two of you continue, skirting your way around the camp and in the direction of the city. You do a bit more hunting, and so does Astarion. Your food cooks in silence as the sun starts to set, and he seems to be lost in thought - just like you are.

When the crunch of a nearby branch sounds, the two of you leap two your feet without a second thought, reaching for your weapons. When you see who it is, your knife tumbles out of your hand.

“Cal?”

He looks more worn down than you’ve ever seen him, but it’s undeniably him. Chestnut hair. Grey eyes. A full, trim beard. He’s dressed in Calthirian colors, and his eyes widen in recognition as he stares at you, looking like he can’t believe you’re real. 

“By the gods, is that really you?” he asks. “How? When? Last I heard, you’d returned to the queen’s palace - we’ve been trying to find a way to get you out, but - well, it doesn’t matter. You’re here! You’re really here!”

He glances behind you, and when he sees Astarion, he pauses. His eyes trail over the wedding rings you both wear, and the blood drains out of his face. “Oh no,” he says softly, taking a step back. His expression hardens, and his hand flits toward the sword at his belt. “No, no, no. Tell me that is not who I think it is.”

“Oh, him?” you say quickly. “This is Lirien. He helped me escape.”

“Of course it is,” Cal replies flatly. “Instead of Astarion Ancunín.” He shakes his head. “You think I can’t tell when you’re lying? I raised you! Gods - why? Why in the hells would you bring him? Do you have any idea what people will do when they find out?”

Astarion scowls. “I can hear you, you know,” he says.

Cal ignores him. “What am I going to tell them?” he mutters to himself, pacing, looking like he might topple over. “What am I going to do?”

“Nothing,” you say adamantly. “Cal? They’re not going to hear about it. Not about me, and not about him. Alright? We’re leaving.”

But Cal, instead of softening for you like he usually does, simply clenches his jaw. “You can’t be serious. This camp has been searching for a way to get you out for the last month,” he says. “We’ve lost… hundreds of men. They’re planning to mount a rescue mission for you, two days from now! Of course I’m going to tell them you’re here!”

“Well, I got myself out before they did,” you tell him, even though that isn’t really true. “And now, I’m going.”

Cal stares at you, incredulous. “What the hells did they do to you?” he asks. “Brainwashing? Torture?” He shakes his head in disbelief, then steps closer. “I won’t hide you. You were born to rule, understand? I raised you better than this.”

He mutters something under his breath before you can respond, and your and Astarion’s weapons fly toward him, falling neatly at his feet. You start forward, but Cal has snatched them up before you can make a grab for them. You have another knife in your bag, but - gods, do you really have it in you to kill him? Even now?

Before you can decide, he’s reciting another incantation. Warmth blooms on your skin, and something electric fills the air, hazing the air and tickling the inside of your lungs.

“What was that?” you ask, flinching at the sensation. “What did you do?”

“A tracking spell - over the both of you. It’ll tell us where you are even if you run. Don’t go trying anything. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”

This side of him is something you don’t know, not even a little, and it breaks you. Betrayal cuts through you like a knife, etching permanently into a sharp, painful spot between your ribs. Something sours on your tongue. 

You’re a pawn. You always have been, even to him. Erelin had been bad enough, but this? Cal cares more about your position than he does you. It hurts so much that you think something in you might actually rip apart and spill out of your gut, seeping into the grass below. 

You have to swallow down the nausea to speak, but the slime of this situation coats your throat and your words when you talk. “Wait until tomorrow,” you request. “Give me one more night away from them. Please.”

He sighs. “I don’t have much of a choice in that. Aris won’t be back until morning anyhow. Come on, you two - I’ll get you situated.”

He starts off toward the camp, but neither you nor Astarion follow after him. Your mind is flying over thoughts at a thousand miles per minute, trying to think of what to do. Gods, what in the hells are you going to do? 

“If I have to get the guards to drag you, I will,” Cal calls. “You’ll spend the night in chains. Come willingly, and you’ll get a tent. It’s your choice.”

You start walking. Your hands are shaking like a leaf. You look to Astarion, whose expression has tightened, who looks even more pale than usual. He’s scared, and you are, too. You have no idea what the hells these people want from you. Cal may have taken your weapons, but there’s still the other knife in your bag. Astarion has his teeth, and there’s two of you… 

Astarion meets your eyes curiously, and his gaze flits over to Cal, raising his brows. His intention is clear, and it's the same thing you’ve been thinking to yourself. After a moment of torturous internal debate, you nod. 

What had you once thought to yourself? That you were willing to do anything for freedom? Gods. Apparently, you are.

You’re just bracing yourself for a fight when the flicker of torches passes through the trees, and you hear the chatter of voices. More men, and from the look of it, they’re all armed. “Cal, is that you?” one calls, lifting his torch higher in the approaching dark so he can see. “New recruits?”

All hope left in you dies at the sight of them. Astarion tenses at your side, his hands clenching into fists. Shit, you think. Shit, shit, shit. They’re going to take you both, and you’re completely fucking helpless to stop it. 

“Yes. Another round,” Cal says casually. It occurs to you that he probably doesn’t want to announce your identity right off the bat, and you can’t decide whether or not you’re grateful for it. 

“Aris will be happy to hear that,” the guard replies. “With the siege, we need everyone we can get. You’re sure they can be trusted?”

Cal glances back at you, smiling grimly. “Positive.”

“Good.”

The two of you are escorted all the way to the camp, and the guards trail away when you reach the outskirts. “This way,” Cal says, leading the two of you to one of the empty tents. “There’s room for both of you, since you seem so fond of each other.”

You stare at the tent, wanting nothing more than to tear through it like a rabid animal.

“Don’t be like that,” Cal implores. “Whatever they did to you, we’ll reverse it. We’ll get you back as you were, hm?” He waits for you to respond, but you don’t. If you do, you think you might actually lose your mind. 

“Alright,” he finally sighs. “Feel free to explore camp, get something to eat, but don’t go past the outer torches. If I wake tomorrow and don’t find you here, the whole of this camp will come after you. Understand?”

You swallow hard, your nails piercing into your palms. “Fuck you, Cal.”

He shakes his head and turns away - but as he moves past you, you catch a flash of movement by his pack. You say nothing, and he’s gone before he’s noticed. You and Astarion are left in front of the tent, alone. 

Well. Here you are.

The tent is larger than you’d expected when you retreat into it, Astarion following after you and sheathing the dagger he’d stolen. There are two bedrolls, some blankets and pillows, and a large amount of space to the side. No amount of blankets and pillows can make any of this better.

Silence falls, sour and agonizing. You want to throw up. You want to drink yourself to death. You want to cry. And you really, really want to punch something.

“So…” Astarion says slowly. “I suppose we’ve met each other’s parents, now.”

You let out a laugh, but it’s bitter. “And what lovely introductions we’ve had.”

His brows pinch in feigned offense. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”

You try to smile, but it falls flat. You’re so angry it feels like fire is bursting from your chest. Pressing your face into your hands, you try to breathe, wanting this not to be real - please, gods, don’t be real - but it is. You can smell the torches burning in the distance and feel the soft breeze that’s pressing through the partially-open flap of the tent.

Astarion sighs, then pushes the flap to the side and crawls through.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“To find something to make this situation bearable,” he says, and then he’s gone.

You don’t think he’s foolish enough to fight against the tracking spell with nothing but a dagger, but it doesn’t stop anxiety from fluttering in your gut. 

You can’t stand sitting still, so you leave, too - not following after him, just restless. Drifting.

For a long while, you wander aimlessly around the camp, trailing from place to place with no destination. A person or two gives you an odd look, but you really don’t give a damn. Your problems are much larger than some strangers and their opinions. All of it will turn irrelevant come morning.

Is it fury you feel, seeping so darkly through you? Has your anger turned ice-cold? It’s as if your life has all been an illusion, some kind of cruel trick. Was any of it real? Did Cal ever really care about you, or were you simply a means to an end?

You often try not to think about your parents, but you allow yourself to do so now. Would they approve of this? Would they have wanted this for you, if they were here? Or would you be nothing more than a pawn to them, too?

You don’t know. You’re starting to wonder if there’s anyone who’s ever really cared for you.

The approach of velvet-blue sky brings you wandering back to your assigned tent. It’s different than it had been before - but you can’t recognize quite how. Not until you get inside, at least. 

Astarion has set up a meal: candles and wine and much fancier food than was in your packs or at the ration stations. You stall at the opening, and he nods for you to come in. You take a seat across from him, admiring his work. With the tent closed, it almost feels private. You can almost forget the camp out there, even for just a moment.

“What’s all this?” you ask.

He hands you a goblet, and you take it without another thought. “Well, darling,” he says softly, “I thought we should enjoy our last night of freedom. Who knows where we’ll be come morning.”

You press the glass to your lips and drink, finding a dark, heady wine on your tongue. “We didn’t have wine,” you recall to yourself. “Where the hells did you get this?”

“Oh, you know,” Astarion sighs, waving a dismissive hand. “Around.”

This time, it’s a real smile that overtakes you. “Just like that dagger?”

“Of course,” he says, tilting his head. A mirroring smile plays on his lips, and he takes a sip of his wine. “If he didn’t want it taken, he shouldn’t have had it out in the open. Besides,” he adds, rolling a shoulder, “I was only returning it to its rightful owner.”

You shake your head. “I still can’t believe he did that. I never thought he was capable of… anything even similar to that. I thought he - cared. About me.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Astarion replies, but there’s a quiet sympathy on his face. “Especially if they intend for you to rule, which they almost certainly do.”

“Of course.” Your throat tightens, and you take another sip of wine. You feel drawn so incredibly tight. It’s like a part of you is waiting to burst.

“So,” Astarion muses, swirling the glass around, “our last night of freedom. Any idea what you want to do with it, my sweet?”

You let out a huff, staring down at your wine. “Aside from blowing this entire gods damned camp up?” You let out a shaky exhale. “No idea.”

“No?” he asks. “No lifelong list? Something you’ve always wanted to try?”

There must be a thousand things you want to do while you still can, but none of them are coming to mind. You’re wound as tight as a rope, fuming, and would give absolutely anything to stop thinking. 

When you shake your head, Astarion leans forward, setting down his glass. “Nothing comes to mind?”

“I - I don’t know. All I can think about is how… angry I am. I don’t know what I want.”

“Then allow me to make a suggestion, darling,” he says, taking the wine out of your hand, neatly setting it on the chest he’s using as a makeshift table. He leans forward, trailing his thumb along your cheek, and something in your stomach jumps. “We’re here, aren’t we? We might as well take the opportunity to distract ourselves.”

“Astarion-”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asks, his voice low and honeyed. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. I’ve felt those little… trembles of excitement when my teeth are in your neck.” He pauses, tilting his head, and another smile plays on the corners of his lips. “No need to be coy,” he purrs. “Your body has already given you away.”

And you do want it. You want it so badly that you can hardly stand it. “And what about you?”

“What?” he asks, frowning. “What about me?”

“What do you want?”

He lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Gods. Isn’t that obvious?” he asks, “I want you.”

You’re caught between the ever-growing want now steadily coursing through you and - something else. Something you don’t recognize. “If you’re sure.”

“Of course I’m sure,” he insists, frustration bleeding into his voice as he pulls back to look at you. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You give him a half-hearted smile. “Well, for one, I’ve never done this before. Remember?”

The frustration bleeds out of his face, and the line that’s been creased between his brows disappears. “Please,” he says incredulously. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Haven’t you heard of vampires preferring virgins?” 

Something flutters in your gut at his words, at the heated way he’s taking you in. “Alright, then, vampire,” you say, before your fears can suck you in. “Do what you will with me.”

His eyes darken. “Oh, I most certainly will,” he murmurs. 

He leans in, and his lips meet yours, fragrant with honeyed wine, ardent and sweet. Gentle at first, but that quickly becomes a haze of need - his hand tightening on your cheek, your hand tightening on his shirt. 

Gods, you think. Kissing Astarion is like hearing a new melody and knowing that it will never leave your mind. The kiss you’d shared at the wedding has already haunted your mind plenty, but this? This is incomparable. Electric. He coaxes your mouth open with ease, and arousal shoots down your back like a bolt of lightning. When his tongue brushes against yours, every muscle in your body goes slack. 

In the midst of everything, you’re still inexperienced. Your hands don’t know what to do or where to go. One settles on his shoulder, the other keeps itself clutched in his shirt. You can’t tell if it’s right, but if it’s wrong, Astarion doesn’t say.

He places his free hand at your side, using it to stabilize himself as he crawls over you, still kissing you, straddling your legs with his hips. Then that hand is at your waist, and his lips are at your neck, and you’re letting out a soft, wanting noise.

He huffs, kissing up your jaw, gently nipping at the sensitive flesh of your earlobe. “Eager little thing, aren’t you?” he hums. 

And what the hells are you supposed to say to that? Of course you’re eager. You’ve been wanting him for ages. The building need between your legs says that more than enough. You’re viciously turned on, and the smugness of his voice isn’t helping, but there’s still an awkwardness to the situation. 

You have no idea what you’re doing. You can’t tell if anything you want is remotely right. In between the pleasure and passion, there’s a building anxiety that’s becoming more and more prominent. It’s distracting you from what he’s doing, which is leaving you nothing but frustrated.

“You’re thinking too much. Relax, darling,” Astarion murmurs, pulling away. “Close your eyes for me.”

And you do. You take one last look at him, so impossibly beautiful in the warm candlelight. His curls have dried tousled from the river, his eyes are half-lidded and dark, and there’s a certain amount of expectancy laced in his gaze that makes you shiver. Then, satisfied that you’ve enclosed the image to memory, you shut your eyes. The darkness helps, you think. A little.

“Good,” Astarion praises, and his lips return to your neck. He takes your hands and places them at his waist, and you’re more than happy to keep them there as he kisses down your jaw. In the darkness of your closed eyes, every touch becomes intensified. Every thought begins to slip away in favor of the feeling of him.

Sharp teeth, grazing along sensitive skin. The icy touch of his skin, sating the scorch of the arousal that shudders through your veins. The soft, almost ticklish brush of his curls against your neck as he kisses along your clavicle. The moment his hands stall at your top, your breath hitches, and your body flinches - an automatic defense you’ve ingrained over the years.

But you want him to touch you. You want this. So you take in a steadying breath and compel your muscles to relax, and he continues - not teasingly slow, but not rushed, either. Taking his time with you.

You’d thought he was beautiful when you first met, but you have to admit: you’re glad that your first time with him, as horrible as the outside circumstances are, is happening here, and not on your wedding night, when you were so hesitant of him. You wouldn’t have enjoyed it, then, even if he’d been the exact same with you. But now? 

Gods, you’re enjoying it. And, judging by the growing hardness between his legs, he’s enjoying it too. 

You’d like to think you’re a patient person, but you really aren’t. The more your want grows, the more your impatience does as well. Your breathing has turned heavy, and as his hands, slowly taking on your warmth, grasp lightly over your ribs, the rhythm of your lungs turns shaky - your entire body singing in want for something you’ve never even experienced.

Just as you’re truly getting desperate, he pulls away again, his hands trailing along your abdomen as he nips at your ear. “You poor thing,” he says, his voice light and teasing. “How did you stand it all this time, alone with me?”

You open your eyes and find him staring down at you, observing the sight of you. You shake your head, failing to bite away the smile that’s threatening to show itself. “Sex wasn’t exactly my priority in the middle of the woods, Astarion. The circumstances were awful.”

“True,” he remarks, tilting his head. His fingers graze over your thigh, still clothed with fabric, but you almost can pretend you don’t know better. “Still,” he says softly, his hands stalling at your lower navel, “here’s hoping we’ll get more time to enjoy this.”

Before he continues undressing you, he pauses, and that crease between his brows forms again. “Just to be clear,” he says, “you do want this?”

Your response is immediate, albeit breathy with want. “I do.”

He flashes you a grin, suddenly wicked. “Good.” 

To your dismay, he crawls off of you, but it’s immediately remedied when he places his hands on your shoulder and eases you to the soft floor of the tent, coaxing your legs apart with his knee.

Any clothes you’re still wearing are quickly disposed of, and needless to say, being so naked while he’s still fully clothed leaves you feeling entirely too vulnerable. “Planning to take me with your clothes on?” you ask, and he pauses, blinking - shaking his head, as if shaking away a stray thought. “Of course not,” he says, the corner of his lips tugging into a smile. “Simply admiring the view, darling.”

His shirt comes off, first, tugged over his head. All silky-smooth skin that you want to trail your hands over, admire inch by inch. Gods, he’s beautiful, shadows reflecting over lithe muscle, supple skin and unearthly beauty you shouldn’t be able to touch. But you are. You gently lift a hand to him, running your fingers over his forearm, and he smiles, undoing his trousers. 

Your entire body tenses in anticipation of him, but your gaze can’t stay in place. It meets his for a moment, taking in the dark ruby color of his eyes. It flickers over his nimble fingers, studies the tendons in his hands, dances over his chest and abdomen. Something stirs in you, something that aches well beyond the temporary arousal, something that cuts deeper. It’s something that, selfishly, wants him to stay. Wants him to curl next to you in the nights, wants him to leave his mother behind and continue on with you.

An impossible want, but it’s still there. After this, where will it leave the two of you? 

You aren’t sure - but if this is the only chance you’re going to get at it, you’re damn well going to take it. Astarion leans over you, kissing you softly, and then his talented fingers are going to work between your thighs. They work a smooth, blissful friction that you’ve never been able to achieve by yourself - and, though the anxious rooting inside of you wants to shut your eyes, you don’t. You hold his gaze. 

For just a moment, he looks almost distant, but his eyes clear - and something darkens in his gaze as he looks at you. He props over you, watching you as you squirm in pleasure, his lips slightly parted.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and you nearly come apart right there. You don’t, though. He pulls his hand away and you’re left shuddering, panting and aching. Then, he moves closer, places a hand on your thigh to coax your legs apart, and works a finger into you. 

His hands are warm by now, but - gods. The feeling of him, compared to your feeble attempts, is nearly shameful. He takes his time with this - goes slow, watching your face intently. He doesn’t want to hurt you, you realize.

Your impatience is less now, as he increases it to two, then three; the stretch, despite his best efforts, is bordering on painful. The almost-pain fades the further he goes on, bleeding into something else that’s so intensely pleasurable you want to beg him to just take you. 

When he finally stops, he tilts his head. “Oh, you’re ready for me, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice silky and low. 

“Please,” comes your response.

“Darling, no need to beg,” he says. “I won’t keep you waiting.”

And he doesn’t. He props himself over you, lowering himself to kiss you, and your leg hitches around his waist. His skin is warm from touching yours, but it’s cold where your arms move to wrap around his neck. You’re mindful of his scars, because you doubt he likes them touched, and he brushes his nose against your cheek as he pushes into you. Slowly, again, but you’re not going to complain. There’s that wash of pain again, and then - oh, gods. Pleasure. Delicious, blissful friction. Your chest heaves and your mouth lets out a loud, needy sound. 

Only then do you remember you’re in the middle of camp, but honestly? You’re so removed at this point that you don’t even care. If all of Calthir hears you getting fucked to the heavens by their enemy prince, so be it. Cal’s probably fucked off to somewhere else anyway, no doubt burdened by guilt. He has to feel some sort of guilt, doesn’t he?

“Gods,” Astarion pants, drawing you back to the present as he slowly deepens his thrusts. You swallow hard, watching the crease of pleasure form between his brows, studying the flash of fangs between his lips. You’re drunk on pleasure, the feel of him, the tiny solitude in this tent that separates you from the rest of the world. He kisses you again, and this time it’s heated, desperate, messy. 

His tongue molds against yours, his fangs graze your lip. Gods, his pace is picking up. Your muscles are starting to tense - the flushed warmth that’s building under your skin is growing. He lets out a soft moan and grips your shoulder, and you instinctively tilt your head for him, giving him access to your neck.

He studies your expression for a moment, as if he’s confirming what you’re offering, and then - gods. He sinks his fangs into your neck. 

If you’d thought the practice was intimate before, it’s so much more now. You barely even feel the pain of the piercing skin - all you feel is him tasting you, groaning into your skin, his hips still rolling evenly. 

He only takes a little, but when he pulls away, there’s that rosy flush to his cheeks. When he kisses you, you can taste yourself on him, metallic iron. His movements are less graceful, now. His gaze is dark and intense, and his grip on you is stronger when he takes your shoulder again, thrusting harder - enough to have you tensing, the both of you panting. 

When the pleasure finally takes you, it’s so intense it’s almost painful. It starts somewhere deep within, working its way through you, singing through your veins until the world blurs at the edges. Blinding, white-hot waves of it ebb and flow through you, taking you away from every sensation but that of Astarion, skin balmy against yours - floating somewhere in the depths of your mind until you finally come down. 

Astarion shudders through his climax just after you, letting out a sudden, wanting noise - as if it’s been punched out of him. As if it had surprised him, just the way it had surprised you. You want to memorize it. You want to take that sound and remember it forever.

When it’s all passed, you’re left covered in sweat, sated, and very, very vulnerable. The arousal that had drifted away your insecurities is waning, and you’re left wanting to hide - to crawl away. But Astarion gently kisses you, carefully pulling out of you, and exhaustion takes over instead. 

The Gur. Finding out about Cazador. Cal’s betrayal. All of that in one day, and it’s taking its toll. Your eyes feel heavy. Your muscles feel achy and worn out. Your thoughts are clouded over, too intertwined and complicated to drag apart when you’re like this.

You sit up and grab a stray rag, intending to clean yourself, but Astarion tugs it out of your fingers. “No, darling, let me,” he says. 

And you do.

He confuses you - that he can be so vicious and so tender. He’d killed Gandrel without hesitation, without remorse - though, admittedly, you’d let him. Let him. As if you had some control over him. As if you could have stopped him. It should scare you, perhaps - that callous, venomous side of him - but it doesn’t. The rough edges of him you keep finding only make you want him more. The details don’t sate you. You always want more. 

And now, you suppose you’ll find out what comes next. 

The tent is silent. You fumble through your pack and find your sleeping clothes, and Astarion does the same. You’re hesitant, not wanting to push too far. You know very well sex doesn’t mean anything more - however much you might want more - and you know for certain that Astarion had not offered you anything aside from that. Still, the thought of curling up alone tonight has your chest aching.

When you finish dressing, you find that Astarion has pulled the two bedrolls together, fluffed up by the pillows and blankets. He raises a brow and pats the spot next to him, and it’s really very childish, the way your chest fills with a delirious sort of joy. You make your way next to him, and he folds you into his arms. 

His skin is cool again. The little sounds of him are relaxing - the movements of his ribs when he breathes, the bob of his throat when he swallows, the light sigh he lets out when his head meets the pillow. It almost makes up for the silence in his chest. The void of sound where a beating heart should be.

For just a moment, before sleep pulls you away, you wonder if he remembers how it felt - to have something alive, thrumming in his chest.

tags: @amica-aenigmata-naboo @sadslasher13 @peachy-possum @the-lonely-abyss @maddiedrmr @starved-kitten @catching-fire-in-the-wind @aoirohi @g0retash

[luvkyu]

rivals ( lee donghyuck/haechan ) part one

maybe donghyuck's school rival isn't as bad as he thought?

content : 2k words, male reader, angstish/fluff at the end, high school!au, academic enemies to lovers trope, toxic parents ( reader's ), just a little crying ( reader ) but hyuck is a sweetheart about it so it's fine <333

part two | part three

"haechan."

"..haechan?"

"donghyuck!"

donghyuck snapped out of his trance, turning his head toward his deskmate.

"huh?"

"class is over," jaemin said with a small snicker. he exchanged glances with jeno, who now stood beside his desk while clutching his bag over his shoulder.

"staring daggers at y/n again?" jeno teased.

donghyuck clicked his tongue in disgust as he looked back at y/n.

"he's top of the class again. he's a menace."

"pfft," jaemin scoffed, "he's a menace? he literally just studies and basically never talks. he's the opposite of a menace. he's actually very nice."

donghyuck only gave his friend a side eye in response.

"he's nice?" jeno asked, genuine.

"mhm! he lended me some money for lunch last week. he hasn't talked to me since, or asked me to repay him."

"he's a menace," donghyuck insisted. "next test, i'll get top of the class for sure. and he'll be stuck with second."

"that's what you said last time.." jeno muttered.

"hey!-"

"guys!" renjun's voice suddenly infiltrated their classroom. "you're like, the last ones left in here. c'mon."

"tsk." donghyuck gently flicked jeno's head as he stood up and gathered his books. jaemin laughed again, the three of them finally leaving with renjun.

y/n still sat at his desk while slowly packing up his bag, actually the last student left. a small smile tugged at his lips as he thought about what he'd overheard.

"haechan is very loud for such a gentle looking person," he mumbled, before snickering.

"n/n!"

y/n looked up at the sound of his nickname. mark now stood in the doorway of his classroom, waiting for him.

"can i walk you home?" mark asked happily.

"you always walk me home."

mark smiled and nodded, "i know. but i still like asking."

y/n rolled his eyes. as his neighbor and best friend, mark was always very attentive to y/n. especially since all y/n ever did was sleep, eat, and study. mark always wished he'd be more social - he thought it'd do him some good to stop worrying about his grades so much. but y/n's parents would definitely disagree.

after walking for a while, the pair finally made it to their neighborhood. y/n seemed way too in his head today, and it made mark worry even more.

"are you coming to the dance showcase tonight? jisung and i have been practicing for weeks."

y/n sighed and shook his head.

"can't. i'm tutoring tonight. i'm sorry."

mark frowned at first, but quickly perked up.

"that's okay! i'll get someone to video it for you," he assured. "what about tomorrow? you can hang out since it's saturday right?"

"sure, that's fine. wanna see a movie or something?"

mark nodded eagerly, "love to!! we can go in the evening and you can stay the night at my place if you want."

y/n nodded and gave him a small smile.

"sounds good. good luck with your dance tonight, let me know how it goes."

"mm! see you tomorrow!" mark replied.

donghyuck walked into the local public library, a small prance in his step. he always enjoyed tutoring other students, as odd as that may sound.

he found a small table and began setting out his study materials while waiting for his tutee. the smile that had been resting on his face, however, did not last long. after looking up, he found that y/n was sitting at another table not far from his. he scowled under his breath.

"our teacher got the top students to tutor others, but we were supposed to find different places. tsk." he quickly stood from his chair and trudged over to y/n.

"..." donghyuck waited for y/n to look up from his book, but the male was stubborn. or maybe he just didn't care enough to spare donghyuck a glance.

"if you're going to speak, then speak. if not.." y/n spoke while making a shoo gesture with his hand. donghyuck's brows furrowed.

"why are you here?" he asked, not caring about the rude tone of his voice.

y/n finally looked up from his book. donghyuck was pretty, y/n would give him that, but that was about it.

"i'm tutoring chenle. and what about you? are you stalking me?"

donghyuck felt a surge of panic run through his body. "wha- no?! i'm supposed to be tutoring here. you go somewhere else!"

y/n simply gave the other a blank stare. "sure," he answered sarcastically. "i'll go somewhere else, stand up chenle, and he'll fail our next test. then it'll be your fault. you really wanna be the reason chenle fails? i thought you were better than that, lee donghyuck."

"you-.." donghyuck clenched his jaw.

"y/n..?" chenle's voice broke between the two. he gave a small, awkward bow as donghyuck moved aside.

"chenle! ready to get started?"

chenle nodded while looking nervously at donghyuck. he didn't like seeing him aggravated, nor did he wanna get in the middle of something between him and y/n.

"i can give you guys a minute if-"

"no," donghyuck stopped him, "we're done."

y/n sent donghyuck an insincere smile before watching him go back to his table to continue waiting for his own tutee.

their tutoring sessions lasted about two hours, and the whole time, donghyuck would steal disgusted glances at his rival. he kept wondering how jaemin could say he's actually nice.

"maybe he's not nice to you cause you always give him such a hard time," jaemin had once argued. donghyuck scoffed. no, that couldn't be it. y/n had to be the problem.

donghyuck looked up from the paper he was supposed to be reviewing. y/n had a kind smile on his face as he moved his pencil from question to question, explaining the answers to chenle.

"yeah, he's definitely the problem," he whispered in annoyance.

"huh?"

donghyuck perked up, remembering the pupil beside him.

"mm? oh, nothing! let's go over these."

his student nodded as donghyuck slid the worksheet over to him. donghyuck's eyes naturally drifted to y/n one more time before taking a big breath and beginning to review the paper.

rain.

it just had to be raining when y/n stepped out of the library to start his way home. he sighed and stopped under the last awning of the building.

"fucking great," he muttered.

taking his phone out, he scrolled down to his mother's contact which he had at first planned to call. but then, he thought, his parents were the last people he wanted to see or be driven home by. so with that, he began walking.

usually, walking home was no problem for y/n. it was around a twenty minute walk to his neighborhood from both school and the library, as the two were only a couple blocks away from each other. his walks gave him time to listen to music and enjoy the weather, or just to be on his phone without the prying eyes of his parents.

but today, y/n could already feel the rain starting to soak through his clothes. the water dripped down from his hair and onto his face, making him let out another sigh.

"maybe i'll get sick this weekend and have an excuse not to study," he hoped quietly. his small smile fell after thinking about it for a minute. "if i get sick, they'll blame me for walking in the rain, though."

crossing his arms, he walked faster and lowered his head. while watching his shoes slap the puddles on the ground, his mind kept wandering. he felt incredibly sad. he wished his parents could just be his parents, instead of borderline dictators. education didn't mean anything to him, and yet he tried so hard to be top of his class just to earn some kind of validation from them.

before he knew it, he was crying. not a heavy sob, just quiet tears that blended with the rain while the color of his eyes faded into a tint of red.

suddenly, the rain stopped hitting him. his brows furrowed. the drops were still hitting the ground around him, but he couldn't feel them.

"idiot. you'll get sick if you keep walking in this weather," donghyuck scolded. y/n looked up to see the male holding a black umbrella over themselves. as much as he hated donghyuck, he was freezing, so he took the offer and mumbled a quiet, "thank you."

donghyuck had never been this close to his rival. their shoulders were touching, and he thought he should've hated it, but instead there was a small, exciting spark running up his spine.

"why are you walking?" donghyuck asked. when y/n didn't answer, he leaned over to see the other better under their umbrella. his face dropped with the realization that y/n was crying.

"ah.." he stood back up straight, unsure of what to say now. he hated that he felt bad for someone he was supposed to despise. but y/n was, after all, just another person.

"are you okay?"

y/n scoffed as he wiped his tears. "if i said yes, i'd be lying."

donghyuck nodded and looked around a bit awkwardly. he never thought himself good at comforting people, but he'd definitely try.

"wanna talk about it?"

y/n suddenly stopped walking. he could feel the rain hit him again when donghyuck kept walking, taking the umbrella with him. he turned in surprise before hurrying back to y/n to shield him from the water.

"why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?" y/n asked.

donghyuck met his eyes, quiet. y/n's eyes looked tired and strained from his tears, but beautiful despite this. he almost felt entranced from his gaze.

"i dunno.." donghyuck mumbled, "you're just a person, right? regardless of whether i hate you or not. and i don't mind listening if you wanna talk."

y/n's lips thinned into a line as he thought about it. he looked down at his soaked shoes.

"i don't wanna go home," he muttered out.

donghyuck frowned. something was definitely wrong, but he'd feel wrong if he pried into y/n's home life.

an idea struck him as they arrived at a sheltered bus stop. he pulled y/n's arm and finally lowered the umbrella to sit him down on the dry bench. donghyuck could see that the male was beginning to shiver, his jacket turned to a darker drenched color.

"take that off," he said while tugging at the wet fabric of y/n's sleeve.

"what?"

"take it off. you'll definitely get sick if you keep that on. take mine," donghyuck said while holding his now discarded jacket out to his rival.

y/n's brows furrowed in concern. "but you won't have anything to wear.."

donghyuck shrugged, "i'm dry. and i like the cold. really, please take it."

y/n nodded and slowly took his jacket off. it felt gross to handle such a wet piece of clothing around his body, but the dry and heavy fabric of donghyuck's jacket quickly made up for it. he sat back and snuggled into it with a content smile.

"thank you."

donghyuck nodded and set the other jacket aside. he could tell y/n was trying to keep his smile at bay, but he decided not to pester him about it. what mattered was that he was safe and dry now.

"..why don't you want to go home?" he finally asked. y/n's smile faltered.

"my parents are home."

donghyuck didn't really understand, but he didn't plan on being any more nosy. he looked around and spotted a restaurant behind the bus stop, deciding to focus on that.

"have you eaten?"

y/n looked at him in slight confusion. "what?"

"have you had dinner yet? we can go eat together before you have to go home."

"where?" y/n realized right after he asked that it didn't really matter where. any place would be better than a house with his parents.

"maybe that place?" donghyuck answered.

y/n turned to see the restaurant donghyuck was pointing at. he'd actually been there a few times with mark, so he quickly nodded.

"yes please."

[cod-thoughts]

Day 26 of 31 days of COD

Words: 1.8k

Relationships: NikPrice

Tags: slightly ooc, banter, attempt at humour, fluff

Price looked up, confused but intrigued. “Mishka?” he echoed, brow furrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Nikolai’s mouth quirked into a smile, a touch of amusement in his eyes. “It means… ‘little bear,’” he said, the words thoughtful, as if he were measuring each one. “It fits you, I think.” Although not necessary at all it won't hurt to read day 23 for a smidge of context Keep reading under the cut or on AO3

Soap, leaning forward with a gleeful grin, decided to push the teasing a bit further. “So, Captain…Mishka. That name, it’s got a bit of history, yeah?”

Price paused, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He glanced at Nikolai, who gave him an encouraging nod. With a soft chuckle, Price gave a half-shrug, acknowledging the memory. “Yeah. Comes from way back. Out in the cold, out in the middle of nowhere. That’s where it started.”

Nikolai’s face softened, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by something far more tender. He looked at Price as if seeing him for the first time again, as if the memory were as vivid for him as the present moment. “You remember, don’t you? First time I call you Mishka?”

Price nodded, his voice quieting slightly. “Reckon I do. That mission went to hell quick. We were both damn near frozen.”

---

It was the kind of night that crept into your bones, the cold biting with a sharpness that no amount of gear could shake off. Price and Nikolai were holed up in a cramped safehouse, somewhere far from backup and close to trouble. It wasn’t their first time in a place like this, but something about this particular night felt heavier, the quiet between them a little too thick, the walls pressing in closer than usual.

They sat across from each other on the floor, leaning against opposite walls, the only light coming from a dim oil lamp flickering in the corner. Price was watching Nikolai intently, though he’d be the last to admit it. The mission had been hard, harder than they’d planned, and he couldn’t shake the way Nikolai had looked, blood on his cheek, laughter on his lips, utterly fearless.

“Crazy bastard,” Price muttered, shaking his head.

Nikolai smirked, a tired, easy grin slipping across his face. “You like it,” he replied, words careful but smooth. He leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes fixed on Price with that same glint, equal parts challenge and affection.

They’d been here before, caught in this charged silence that felt like it could burst open with one wrong—or right—word. In moments like this, it didn’t matter who else was around or what they were meant to be. They were just themselves, stripped down to the barest truth.

After a few minutes, Price shifted, crossing his arms over his chest as he fought off a shiver. It wasn’t the cold that got to him, though; it was Nikolai, looking at him like he could see straight through to the core of him. The one man he could never really hide from.

“You don’t back down, do you?” Price said, his voice softer now, almost contemplative.

Nikolai chuckled, the sound rumbling through the small room. “I have my reasons,” he replied, his gaze never leaving Price’s. There was a beat of silence, then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “One of them is… you, John.”

Price’s heart kicked up, a little quicker than he’d like, and he looked away, trying to mask the reaction. But Nikolai’s next words caught him off guard.

“Mishka,” Nikolai murmured, the word soft and tender, a sound so foreign in the dark silence. He let it hang in the air, as if testing it out, seeing how it felt.

Price looked up, confused but intrigued. “Mishka?” he echoed, brow furrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nikolai’s mouth quirked into a smile, a touch of amusement in his eyes. “It means… ‘little bear,’” he said, the words thoughtful, as if he were measuring each one. “It fits you, I think.”

Price snorted, an attempt to brush it off, but there was something in the way Nikolai said it that tugged at him, that softened the edges of the moment. “What, ‘cause I’m stubborn?” he shot back, though there was no bite to his tone.

Nikolai shrugged, a teasing smile playing at his lips. “Stubborn, yes. Strong… loyal.” He paused, searching for the right words. “Bear will protect who he cares about, even if… it is not wise.”

Price’s face softened, the usual lines of tension easing as he absorbed the words. It was more than a compliment; it was an acknowledgment, a way for Nikolai to say what neither of them could say directly. There, in the dim light, something shifted between them, something real and grounding.

He didn’t reply right away, his mind still wrapped around the way Nikolai had looked at him when he said it. And then, without a word, he nodded, accepting the name as if it had always belonged to him.

“Mishka,” Price repeated under his breath, as if testing the sound, letting it settle into something private and precious. “Just between us, though.”

Nikolai chuckled, reaching over to squeeze Price’s shoulder, the gesture lingering a moment longer than necessary. “Only us,” he murmured back, his voice filled with a warmth Price could feel all the way to his bones.

---

Gaz, now fully invested, leaned forward, curious. “So it just… started back then?”

Price chuckled, brought back to the present. “Aye. It was something he said one night, in that old cabin we found. Could’ve picked anything, but he called me ‘Mishka.’ Said it suited me.” He met Nikolai’s gaze, a soft smile crossing his face. “Stubborn, strong, all that.”

Nikolai grinned, repeating those words he said that night, “A bear will do anything to protect those he loves. Even if it’s foolish.”

Ghost, who had remained silent through most of the conversation, finally spoke up, his voice calm but tinged with a rare hint of amusement. “Explains why you two are still alive, really. Sheer bloody-mindedness.”

Price chuckled, nodding. “That about sums it up.”

The team chuckled, shaking their heads, as Nikolai, thoroughly pleased with himself, leaned in close to Price, his hand resting comfortably on the back of Price’s neck. “You see, captain? They all understand now.”

Price gave him a long, affectionate look, the kind of look only someone who’s been through the fire with another could give. “I reckon they do.”

Price let Nikolai’s hand linger, his heart lighter than it had been in years, grateful for every bit of love they no longer had to hide around their make-shift family.

Nikolai didn’t stop there, however. To the team’s bemusement, he seemed to be on a mission of his own, making sure no one missed the fact that Price was his.

Sitting beside him, Nikolai once again reached over, casually brushing an invisible bit of lint off Price’s shoulder, then letting his hand fall around Price’s shoulders before deciding that it clearly wasn’t enough and wrapped his other hand around Price’s waist.

Soap groaned, though he couldn’t hide his grin. “Alright, mate, we get it. But I’m startin’ to worry you might break the poor bloke, clingin’ to him like that.”

“Oh?” Nikolai raised an eyebrow, and with a theatrical sigh, he tightened his other arm around Price and pulled him halfway into his lap. “But my Mishka is strong. He does not break,” he replied with a sly smile. “Why else would I choose him, da?”

Gaz, failing to contain his laughter, shook his head. “Mate, if you get any closer, you’re gonna fuse together.”

Price merely chuckled, completely unfazed by the display. He patted Nikolai’s hand where it rested on his shoulder, almost reassuring, as if to tell him to carry on. In fact, the only indication he even heard the team’s comments was a slight narrowing of his eyes, the hint of a grin barely hidden beneath his beard.

Ghost, who had been watching quietly as usual, leaned back with a sigh that sounded suspiciously like amusement. “I’m just surprised Price hasn’t pushed him off by now,” he remarked dryly.

“Oh, I’ve tried,” Price replied, his voice tinged with fondness, though his eyes were twinkling with a hint of playful defiance. “Doesn’t get him anywhere. He’s got a grip like a bloody octopus.”

Nikolai grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “It is true. Johnathan can try all he wants,” Nikolai lowers his voice and winks at them all “but I am verypersistent.”

Soap rolled his eyes, folding his arms with mock impatience. “Bloody hell, just get a room already, the both of you.”

“Oh, don’t tempt him,” Price replied, throwing a smirk in Soap’s direction. “He certainly doesn’t need much encouragement.”

To everyone’s surprise, Nikolai leaned in then, softening his voice with a soft chuckle. “He is right, you know,” he said, entirely unbothered by the team’s reactions. “And since Mishka is so good at hiding how soft he is… maybe I am the only one who can bring out that side, no?.”

Soap practically choked on his coffee, while Gaz shook his head, both amused and horrified. “Alright, alright,” Gaz managed, chuckling, “You two could at least try to keep from making the rest of us sick.”

Nikolai, amused by their discomfort, only leaned closer to Price, his tone softening as he moved his arms to be fully secured around Price’s waist. “They’re jealous, Medvezhonok,” he said in an exaggerated whisper. “Not everyone finds a bear who is fierce and gentle.”

Price’s response was just a soft chuckle, and instead of pushing Nikolai away, he brought a hand up to Nikolai’s cheek giving it a light pat. “Let them be, my love” he murmured, his voice low but warm. “I reckon they’ve got enough to handle with just watching us.”

Gaz finally threw his hands up in defeat, laughing. “You know, Captain, we thought you’d be the one to tell him off if he got too much. Turns out you’re just as guilty.”

“Hmm, well,” Price replied, entirely unfazed as he gazed at Nikolai, “not much point in telling him to stop. Wouldn’t want him to anymore anyway.”

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence as the team took this in, seeing a side of Price they rarely witnessed. It was clear that Price and Nikolai were beyond caring what anyone thought, and the weight of years spent hiding their relationship had finally lifted, leaving behind only the easy affection they shared.

Soap, still recovering from the display, finally shrugged. “Guess it’s true then—what they say about old bears and their habits.”

Price smirked, his arm now resting comfortably around Nikolai’s shoulder. “Oh, I suppose so, Sergeant. Not planning on changing anytime soon.”

Nikolai’s smile softened, and he leaned in just enough to whisper something the others couldn’t hear. “Good. Because this, Mishka? It suits you.”

Price let out a quiet chuckle, his expression unreadable but content, as he gave a final nod. “Yeah, I think it does.”

And as the team settled into the familiar rhythm of laughter and easy banter, Nikolai kept his arms around Price’s waist but moved him off his thigh instead, unbothered by the groans or amused complaints. Because after years of hiding, there was nothing he loved more than showing just how fiercely he cared, his Mishka right by his side.

[secretsandwriting]

Part One: Mishaps and Foreign Words

The Edutzal.

A species known for their ruthlessness and destruction. With an unimaginable amount of strength and power they were a species you didn't want the attention of, so why were there three of them spotted on Earth.

Prologue -- Masterlist -- Next

Translation List

Nightwing slipped. Normally that wouldn't be a problem, but he slipped 1000 feet up in the air at the edge of the building. He had just gotten out of a brutal fight and was low on supplies, he didn't really  have much he could use to stop his fall or even slow it down. He was essentially screwed. His shoulder was dislocated so he couldn't have done much even if he did have supplies.

Halfway down he was caught by someone. Hissing as his shoulder was bumbed he heard the soft apology from them and glanced up. Only to be met with the gray eyes of one the Edutzal, the only male in the trio. Dick looked away when the Edutzal's arms under his knee bumped a scrape.

"You should probably be a little more careful when so high up Tiapr." The last word was foreign. Something clearly in another language, chances are it was the Edutzal's native one, He was too tired to remember the name of it. He was set down on a bench and let the man in front of him fuss over him for a bit. When he stepped back, Dick grabbed his hand, stopping him for at least a second. 

"Who are you?"

"My name is Siuqgux, yours is Richard Grayson correct?" Against his better judgment, Dick nodded. "Well, some of your teammates are coming, I shall take my leave." With that, he flew off. Gone in less then a second. 

Siuqgux.

He would have to see if any of the others recognized it.

He would also have to let them know that they knew his name and see if any of them knew what Tiapr meant.

—-----------------

Tim wasn’t sure what was going on, one second he was in a losing fight trying to figure out the best way to get out alive when the guy he was fighting was just whisked away by a black streak? He rubbed at his eyes, hoping it wasn’t an illusion and the guy was just waiting for a chance to finish him.

“Is there something in your eyes?” He whipped around to be met with one of the Edutzal. From Dick’s experience he wasn’t as worried, but they were considered the most powerful beings in the universe so he didn’t feel like taking too many chances.

“I don’t suppose you're here to tell me my name and catch me if I fall?” Maybe, he shouldn’t test the powerful being right away but what else was he supposed to do. Thankfully she just snorted.

“Nope, came to see what was making all the noise, found your fight, recognized the guy from the Gotham newspaper, killed him, talked to you for a bit, and now taking you home so you can get those 5 broken ribs, broken arm, and internal bleeding taken care of Paeqian or if you prefer Tim Drake.” 

“Wha-” He didn’t get to finish his sentence before he found himself airborn. Within seconds he was at the doorway of the manor and the Edutzal was nowhere to be seen. 

Another word to add to the translation list. 

—-----------------

This wasn’t going well. He was out of ammo and surrounded… Or was surrounded? Half the goons were gone, all the goons? The flash of black gave him all the confirmation he needed. One of the Edutzal was there. Tim wasn’t lying when he said they were faster than the supers. The last of the goons were added to the tied up pile and he was face to face with the third one.

“I take it, you know my name too?”

“Of course Gaujieqn. We figured out the identities of everyone in the Justice League our first day here.” 

“What's your name ad the name of the one Tim met, and what the hell does Gaujiegn mean?”

“I’m Vehutran, she can tell her name when she wants too, and guess. Anyways, your back up is about 5 minutes out. Can you find your way out or do you need help?” He didn’t need help, but if he got help maybe he could get more information.

“A guide would be nice, but you are not flying me out!” 

“You’re going to make me late for dinner plans and Siuqgux hates it when we’re late… This way.” She led him down some halls, floating the entire way. Jason was beginning to wonder if any of them could walk, they always seemed to be floating. 

“Why are you here?”

“Because we like it here.”

“Why are there three of you?” 

“Because we like being around each other.” 

“What are you planning on doing to earth?”

“Not much more than we already have.”

“Why do you keep helping us?”

“Because we get bored and all of you seem to be in constant fights.”

“What do you want from Earth?”

“A place to live.”

“Wh-”

“Continue straight down this hall and you’ll be out Jason Todd.” With that the Edutzal was gone.

Notes

1. After 10 months i'm finally posting the parts!!! 2. Anyways, we got some weird words here, any guess as to what they mean?

Taglist:

@cipheress-to-k-pop

[ersatz-ostrich]

See You Again

Chapter 2: Polestar

Jason Todd x f!reader

You and the Red Hood escape the laboratory.

[A/N]: This is the second of the two chapters I had already written. I just started writing the third chapter and putting down my thoughts for the rest of the story...oops...

read here on ao3

<< previous || next >>

masterlist

STAR Laboratories Los Angeles

9:52:03 PM PT

The Coffin

“Well, that can’t be good.” You mutter to yourself, yanking out the syringe with a hiss. When your soldier had yielded, you thought you could slip away from him. But his sudden fake-out had shifted both of your positions, creating a window for the Bat to shoot him. The bullet had come so close to your face, you had thought you could feel it brush past you and embed itself in the soldier’s exposed neck. 

The bullet could have just as easily grazed you, even killed you, had you been just an inch too close. 

You shifted your gaze to the figure in the red helmet. You hadn’t gotten the chance to examine them up close—they were tall and heavily built, even with armor on, and sported a weathered brown leather jacket that covered the huge red bat symbol emblazoned on their chest plate. “You’re Red Hood, right?” 

“That’s me.”

“What are you doing in LA? Aren’t you supposed to be from Gotham?” The Red Hood let out a modulated chuckle. You thought this would go down as your weirdest day on the job, making one of Gotham’s most ruthless crime fighters chuckle.

“I wanted to check out the warm weather here in Cali.” Something in Red Hood’s tone and posture shifted. “Now, what’s going on with that syringe?”

“Ah. Well, this was supposed to be a dose of a certain virus for the lab animals we’re testing on,” you explained.

“And this virus, it’s…”

“The Polestar virus,” you sighed. “Unearthed from somewhere deep in the Arctic, inside some early human mummies who carried the virus.” You let out a weak chuckle. “We knew it had the potential to be sold on the black market as a bioweapon should it fall into the wrong hands, but we weren’t aware that the risks were so high. And now, the virus is in my system.” 

“Are you feeling anything right now? What are the virus’s symptoms? What’s its incubation period?” His modulated voice was surprisingly soft, yet urgent.

“This virus is bad news. We found that it’s pretty fast acting, and…” You spared another glance at the syringe in your hand. “...the symptoms aren’t pretty.” 

“How fast?”

“This dose is meant for a test subject that’s a fraction of my body mass. I’ll be dead in two or three hours, give or take.”

“And the symptoms?” 

“Necrosis. A new kind that we haven’t named yet. The virus consumes soft tissue and leaves behind a metallic residue. We believe it’s because the virus leaches metals and minerals from the body and aggregates it, beginning with the extremities.” The Red Hood reached forward cautiously, as if he was afraid of startling you. He gently pulled back the fabric of your coveralls that the soldier had so unceremoniously ripped open and ghosted his gloved fingers over where the needle had once been. The blood vessels around the wound had already become blackened and distended.

“We have to get you to a hospital.” You shook your head.

“We can’t. This research isn’t public knowledge.” You hoisted yourself up, tucked in your coveralls, and adjusted your respirator like nothing had happened. “I’m already a target as it is.” You stepped over the black-clad form of one of the soldiers Red Hood felled.

“Are there any treatments?” You picked your way through the Coffin to the freezers.

“They’re still in development, but the vaccine should slow it down.” You punched some numbers into the keypad and put your index finger to the scanner on the door and the freezer doors eased open automatically. You strode over to the shelf where you had hurriedly stashed the vials and syringes, the glass and metal clouded from the cold. The vaccine was crystal pink, you realized, like the color of the phenolphthalein titration you had done back in high school. You had handled both the buret and the Erlenmeyer flask because Jason couldn’t get it right, and in return, he had done all of the calculations for the lab report. Turning over the vials in your hand, you wondered why you were reminiscing about Jason during this time. The thought made your heart squeeze a little bit. 

Jason Todd had been gone for so long. The hollowness that Jason’s absence had carved out of you seemed to sigh achingly. Years on, that hollowness was still there, not as hungry as it had been at first but smaller, still present. It still gnawed on your consciousness from time to time, on his birthday or on the day the Joker took him from you.

When you returned from the freezer, Red Hood was preparing a large metal-lined briefcase that he had taken from the incapacitated—dead?—men on the ground. He had already filled it partially with devices and weapons he had taken off of the soldiers.

“Are those the virus samples?” He inquired.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Vaccines, too. They’re labeled as such, and the vaccines are pink while the virus suspension is cl—”

“Pack them up. We have to get out of here before the police come.” His request startled you.

“Are you serious? This is property of STAR Labs and the CDC—”

“That’s been compromised. Neither you nor the samples are safe here. The police will be of no help, and they’re gonna keep sending people after you and those syringes unless we get you somewhere safe.” He gestured at the tray in your hands. “You need treatment, too. Somewhere they can’t find you.” You sighed heavily, setting the tray on a countertop.

“You’re right. I’m carrying the virus right now, and I’m dangerous. STAR Labs is probably gonna terminate me and the CDC will whisk me away or something. People come after me. But I can’t compromise the Polestar program.”

“It’s already been compromised. Now pack that shit up and let’s get out of here.” You flitted around the Coffin in search of something to store the samples in. You were scooping ice into a Styrofoam case when your comms unit fizzled to life again.

“This is the LAPD, we’ve been alerted of a break-in at STAR Labs. We request that all STAR Labs employees still in the building evacuate immediately. That is an order. Repeat, that is an order.” 

“Shit, we gotta go,” Red Hood muttered. You grabbed your comms and tucked the Styrofoam case awkwardly under your arm and followed him out of the Coffin and into the ruins of decon and aseptics—you had been in the Coffin for hours, and the sight of the wreckage and your coworkers in aseptics now slumped over their devices made your stomach drop. “No time for sightseeing. Hurry up.” You pushed yourself into a full sprint, stumbling in your PPE along the concrete and corrugated steel of the basement. You followed the Red Hood into the emergency stairwell. Peering through the glass of the door to the ground floor, you saw SWAT officers milling about.

“SWAT team, start sweeping the second floor.”

“Shit—” You and Red Hood hurried up the stairs, the contents in your arms rattling in its Styrofoam case.

“Guess we aren’t leaving that way. Know any other escape routes in this building?”

The top floor—your floor. The Polestar program’s home.

You didn’t want to know what kind of destruction the soldiers had left in their wake. 

“Top floor. Only way out would be the roof,” You answered.

“Roof it is.” After climbing some more flights of stairs and monitoring your comms unit for any more activity, you decided to wrench open the door to the sixth floor, breathing laboriously—when was the last time you had done this much cardio? You led the Red Hood over to a service elevator—not accessible without clearance, you explained to him—scanned your ID, and pulled him in. Once it reached the top floor, the elevator dinged and opened its doors, the hallway blessedly clear. You and Hood skulked down the corridor, which ended with the door to the Polestar offices. Hood opened the door and swept the room for hostiles before waving you in.

Your heart sank when you saw what had become of the Polestar lab.

“No…” you whispered. The laboratory had been completely wrecked. Glass fragments and papers were strewn on the floors. Pieces of equipment were left broken and overturned, spilling their contents among the mess.

Then you saw the bodies. 

You caught sight of Dr. Davis’s crumpled form on the floor, next to the comms he had used to warn you of the impending disaster. The comms unit looked like it had been crushed underfoot, exposing wiring and circuitry among shards of its outer plastic shell. You made a step towards Dr. Davis’s body, but froze when you saw the red stain on his back and the blood pooling onto the floor. 

“They…” You felt Hood’s gloved hand on your shoulder, gently guiding you away from the destruction. “...they killed everyone.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“This is…this is horrible. Unbelievable.” Your pulse quickened with your breath. You felt the tears begin to form, and your vision grew misty. “I can’t believe it. They killed everyone.” You thought you had known grief and death. But this was different—seeing your colleagues slaughtered, their blood drying before you, made you feel faint. And yet, you felt wholly ablaze with 

“Hey…” Shouts sounded from the stairwell. Your chest felt tight and your head was turning fuzzy. “...hey, hey. We gotta move.” The hand on your shoulder was not so gentle anymore, insistently pulling you toward the gaping hole in one of the windows. He handed—more like shoved—the briefcase he was holding into one of your hands and produced a terrifying-looking grapple gun from somewhere on his utility belt. “Don’t drop it,” was all he said before he wrapped an arm around your waist. Your arms instinctively flew around his shoulders, holding onto him, your Styrofoam box and his briefcase for dear life, and then you were airborne.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you soared over the street, which had become choked with squad cars and assault vehicles. You gasped in surprise when you felt yourself change direction as Hood gently and skillfully hoisted you over the ledge of a neighboring building’s rooftop.

“The first time is always the worst.”

“That’s implying that this isn’t the last,” You heaved out. “Holy shit. Did they see us?”

“Don’t think so. We’ll wait here, I’ll…” You didn’t hear the rest of the vigilante’s statement. The adrenaline from the jump was beginning to wane and you felt the burden of the virus and the sights you had stumbled upon while escaping the laboratory coming on again. 

“Hey." Red Hood moved to catch you as you slumped over. “Hey, can you hear me?” Illuminated by the city lights, he caught sight of your badge from where it hung on your PPE. Your name was printed in neat black font next to an unmistakable portrait. 

Under his helmet, the Red Hood’s breath caught in his chest.

“...Y/N?”

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

[A/N]: That's all I've got for now. Hope you enjoyed! x

[the-fiction-witch]

Sparing Sword

Media House Of the Dragon

Character Jacaerys Verlaryon

Couple Jacaerys X Reader

Rating Flirty

Jacaerys stood in the courtyard of Dragonstone, his black clothes covered by his greave's, cubitiere and his breastplate a dull well-scratched silver. A Dull sparing sword in his hand, his dark hair pushed out of his eyes, his boots moving across the courtyard. As he worked sparing with the manakin often letting out grunts as he practised. 

Across the courtyard on the dark stones sat a young maid girl, on her break from the kitchens and taking in the air. She glances up and often her eyes catch the prince as he practices. He caught her eye and straightened himself up knowing he was being watched, pushing hair from his face.

He made a point to work a little harder and put his best foot forward as it were now he knew the maid was watching him. However, in his attempts to show off, he slipped and almost toppled over. 

Which caused the maid to chuckle.

Her laugh caused his blood to boil so he turned to her, "You laugh?!"

"Forgive me Prince Jacaerys," she nodded, 

"You think you can do better?" he asked, "What would you know of sparing?" He scoffed heading back to the manakin, 

The maid for a moment didn't say anything but she stood and straightened her grey dress, "With all due respect my prince, I happen to know more than most. And I rather think I could indeed do better,"

"You could?" he laughed, "Alright." he chuckled taking a spare sparing sword and tossing it to her but of course, it fell to the mud without her even trying to catch it, "Go on, and I'll even be sporting, One-handed as your in a dress"

"How very kind of you my Prince," She nodded picking the sword up from the mud wiping it on her apron and stepping down the steps towards him, he put a hand behind his back "Begin," the two began a sparing match which was over quickly as he very simply forced the sword from her hand, 

"There. Now do I get an apology?" 

"Perhaps, one more Prince Jazaerys?" She offered,

"Fine one more." He rolled his eyes, 

"Thank you," she nodded, but this time, she pulled her hair and her fingers twisted it into a long braid that she then pinned up around her head, she took the skirt of her dress and gathered it pulling it between her legs and tieing it around her hips revealing her bare to her mid-thigh, which took Jacaerys attention, she pushed up her sleeves and took the sword in both hands. "Begin," she smirked, 

The two began their second sparing match but this time she was far more merciless and accurate Jacaerys actually had to put some work in to put up a fight so much so he had to go back on his word and use both hands but still she disarmed him sending his sparing sword into the mud, 

"Thank you very much for the kindness of sparing with me my prince,"

"How did you- What did- Where did you learn that?!" He asked,

"Could say," she said picking up his sword for him and handing it back, "I am a lady of many talents,"

"I can see that," He nodded taking his sword back, "Best two out of three? and then you'll tell me how you learnt?"

She chuckled, and rubbed her cheek the mud from his sword now across her face, "I suppose that's fair. shall we my prince?"

"We shall Little maid," he nodded, 

The two began to spar again both of them and both putting their full effort into it, the two chasing each other around the yard, using items as blocks and shields, playing tricks on one another until finally, he disarmed her.

"Well done my prince. I guess you win." she smiled fixing her dress, "I should return to work,"

"Wait-" He stopped her from leaving by taking her hand, "You never said how you leant?"

"Ohh," she chuckled, "My father was a blacksmith, he used to make me test the blades every day."

"Ohh... yeah I uhh I guess that's why you're so good,"

"Thank you, not as good as you but not had a years of knights training." she smiled, "Have a good afternoon Prince Jacaerys," she nodded heading to the steps and the door,

"Wait!" he called out, "Can- Can I know your name?"

"Y/n,"

"Y/n... that's a very beautiful name I uhh I hope perhaps to spar with you again?"

"I'd like that very much," she smiled before she headed inside, 

Jacaerys took a breath for a moment letting his mind clear and return focus to his sparing but he knew it would be a good while before his little maid Y/n left his mind, 

[mgnifique-tion]

— human reaction.

summary || ``you’re starting to wonder if attending work after your day-off was a mistake.``

pairing: 2012!loki x gn!scientist!reader song recommendations: tesseract - cix (p.s. check out seunghun on build-up rn!) lowercase is intended… part: 1/?

— themes and warning/s: open-ended, enemies to potential lovers (for sure, they will be lovers soon), NOT a stand-alone one shot ;) wink wink, bossy loki, y/n being somewhat a dumb human being (heroism)

— a/n: hi! back with another loki au this march and guys, this is not a phase– IT’S NOT A PHASE, MOM! (corny? i graduated with that course in the university of the cornyology – i’m not even done with g12 lmfao wtf am i saying) anywho, i miss him. i literally rewatched the avengers for him and i'm not even active w the mcu anymore. i actually have a lot of other pending drafts from my main acc (@mgnifiqueyoo - follow me there :3) and so many unfinished IMPORTANT work from real life but like i thought of a line and now, i just HAVE to write it or it's outta my head so here u go. lmao. enjoy!

[ total words: 1.9k ]

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“... oh my god.”

that was all you could mutter under your breath the moment you saw the rest of your co-workers controlled by that thing the alien held in his palm. you didn’t show up to work yesterday since you were just taking the final steps in finishing that project of yours.

what was the project? the hypercryogenic station.

and now, after a long day of ignoring your texts and calls, you ended up going to work, which happened to be a terrible idea. better yet, a horrible mistake. “... excuse me?” you took small steps, nearing the towering male as he just stood still, not facing you. all of your friends were doing his commands without any questions and you knew that clint barton would never do any of this!

but he did anyway. and you had to know why.

“what did you do with them?” you asked, demanding for answers as you heard him let out an almost inaudible chuckle only to be followed by a deep, low snicker. the alien slowly turned around and looked you straight in the eye, sweat pouring down his face with a sharp glare while his teeth ground against each other.

he was just terrifying, how else could you leave the facility without getting killed?

“oh, is that supposed to matter?” the alien mocked, later glancing at the staff he held before looking back at you, his smirk disappearing little by little. “... you must be horrified, aren’t you?”

of course you were, who wouldn’t be horrified when they see something like this? 

but before he could even get closer to you, he suddenly stumbled. that wasn’t something you expected since you assumed that he was a powerful being out of this world after seeing that wardrobe choice but he showed… weakness? it’s hard not to take note of it for future purposes.

you then cleared your throat and asked, “are you okay?”

but he said nothing in return, tense and trembling with every step. he had a maniacal look on his face as if he couldn’t control his actions; he seemed like he was enduring something that was hurting him inside.

and that got you thinking what else was happening with the man in front of you. “so, that’s a no?” 

“you’re the expert,” he said, “you’re the one blessed with knowledge over what it is that’s happening to me now.”

you frowned. you definitely had no idea what was going on with him and you were planning on leaving him to himself when he surprisingly grabbed your wrist. “heal me,” he pleaded, breathing in and out rapidly as you felt the burning heat that surrounded his palm, which led to that moment of realization.

“i… i don’t know how–,” you were then cut-off by him tilting his head to the project: the hypercryogenic station. if you ever had a scanner around you, his heat signature would be all over the place because of how high his temperature was. “but the station hasn’t even been tested yet and it could be dangerous for you and for all of us!”

the alien shook his head frantically, not letting any excuses get into his way. “if you don’t help me right now…” his breath hitched as the tip of the scepter was pointed at your chest, right at your heart. “you won’t be living for long.”

and that made you take so many steps, assisting him in the station as you closed the door. “you can’t be in there for more than a minute, it’s highly dangerous and i’m telling you, we haven’t done any tests yet–”

“just begin with the process.” his voice had gotten lower, hoarser with every moment that passed as you felt your heart race quicker. you knew that if you made a mistake, somebody like barton would kill you; there was no way out.

so the gears started running and you watched how the glass windows of the station had fogged up. your life’s work was being used by an unknown entity who took over the minds of your co-workers. your friends.

you couldn’t help but cry silently, biting your nails while you stood a meter away from the finished project. how could a five-year plan get wasted? to this unreadable, tyrannic humanoid? you can’t even breathe well.

and once the process was done, the station’s doors slid apart, creating a path for the man inside. when he stepped out of it, he didn’t even seem affected by it. all normal and human-like as if he had only bathed himself in some snow and not in an actual blizzard.

but colder than his skin was his gaze toward you, the scepter staring back at you as well, watching the way you took a few steps away from him.

“who are you?” you asked, your eyes glued to the scepter rather than his face, which caused him to get agitated.

in return, the tip of the scepter’s blade touched your chin, tilting your head up so that you could look at him. “i am loki of asgard,” he introduced with a deranged grin as you heard the way his breath hitched, overwhelmed and proud with how he spoke to you. 

that was enough to make you take another step back but his hand grabbed your arm like a lock, fastened so tightly that it made everything worse for you. “what did you do with them?” you tilted your head to the blue-eyed agents now circling the entire room, which made loki laugh.

he truly was out of his mind. 

“i simply used them for a greater purpose,” he said back, letting out another chuckle as the scepter gleamed in response. it was in his complete control… they were all under his control.

how in the world can you run from this?

“let them go.” “oh, we’re getting heroic now, aren’t we?”

he mocked you shamelessly as if it wasn’t your invention that saved him from his visible misery – whatever it was that hurt him earlier.

“... well, i did save you.” you just had to let a bit of sass come out because it was true. however, loki didn’t seem to be fond of that and had read that as entitlement rather than a reminder of who did save him.

nonetheless, he lowered his weapon and laughed once more. “your little saving was merely necessary, mortal. i could’ve used that machine myself.” of course, he disregarded that tiny, little favour you did for him and decided that it’d be best to not even give out a little thank you.

but then, again, what do you expect from an aspiring alien tyrant?

“but you couldn’t because i programmed it for my access only,” you continued the conversation, stating the truth right in front of him. that was your life’s work… you still couldn't believe that it was firstly used by some tall man with a scepter and emerald drapes. “besides, that thing you used wouldn't be here if it weren't for me.”

there was long silence once again… perhaps, even longer than moments of silence you had earlier when your eyes scanned over the rest of the place.

almost the entirety of the facility was led by loki. horrifyingly brainwashed by that scepter.

“fair enough,” he admitted, “but you wouldn’t be breathing if i hadn’t given you the chance.”

“... do you want me to thank you? for this?” “giving thanks means nothing. i need something much more than that.”

you crossed your arms, gulping as you still tried to make yourself seem as if you had the upper hand. an imaginary upper hand, perhaps? although you had put on that mask, loki knew you were afraid of what he could do to you. 

if this is only a preview of the damage he’s capable of causing, just how could you survive while being opposed to him?

“i could…” he trailed off, smirking to himself as he circled the station, his palm touching its painted and carved surface while the scepter glowed in his other hand. “hm… i could do the same to you. put your talent to use like the others.”

and you readied yourself, closing your eyes as your once crossed arms dropped to your sides, hopeless and left without a sign of help. “but you have not attacked me once,” he said with a tone of interest, diverting his attention from the opportunity of just controlling you like a mindless servant and rather feeling positive about a different, riskier path. “and you’ve saved me. willingly. no control needed.”

he walked towards you, breathing heavily and letting out a low chuckle. “do you know what gift you have, dr. l/n?” he questioned, expecting you to know the answer as he tilted your head upwards again with the end of the scepter. one wrong push and you could bleed to death; he was being careful with you still.

after all, you were a great addition to his plans.

“humanity, l/n.” he proudly stated, now lowering his weapon as your heart raced. never did you fear death until now, especially when your life would fade to grey without the knowledge of what’ll happen next. to the world and the people around you. “you’ve got so much humanity in you that your best choice was to save a dying god. it’s foolish, l/n. how could you be so brilliant but foolish?–”

“are you done?” you had enough of it, still staring at one corner as you saw how your friend’s eyes still gleamed in blue, manipulated by the god standing right in front of you while the remaining lights of the facility shone over his prepped quiver, ready to attack whenever, however.

and of course, the god of mischief was indeed offended by that. “... you’re so brave, it’s idiotic.” he laughed, shaking his head as if you both had been joking with one another and you felt the heat rush up your head; you didn’t want this. you just wanted your friends to be set free – your world to be set free from this being. 

“what do you desire in return?” “for you to stop whatever you’re planning here, my lord.”

even though loki knew you were being sarcastic, he just admired the way it rolled off your tongue. “you do know that does not equate to what you’ve done for me and you might want to do something more for me if you’d want that to happen,” he said, denying your request with a snicker. “but of course, i still appreciated your service earlier so how about i offer you something else?”

he’s cheating, you thought.

“in exchange of your little saving, it’ll be guaranteed that not one of us would lay a finger on you…” he paused, hiding the scepter behind his back as you tilted your head to the side. were you even hearing this correctly? that was too low. “and you would be shielded from any harm as well.”

but can you do anything about it? no. “is that good enough for you, my little savior?”

you had to think about it for longer than a second. why only a second, you may ask? well, does it look like you still have enough time to decide perfectly? the world is at stake; you had to give an answer now or worse destruction could happen.

“fine,” you uttered, firmly extending your hand towards him as he only stared back at your empty, shaking palm. “i’ll do whatever it takes to free this world from you.”

“that’s laughable.” “we’ll see, your majesty.”