#i am obsessed with the little hair bounce + how smooth the movement is!!!! the hair in general looks SO cool

[capn-twitchery]

oh my god they're moving (i am obsessed with this thank you SO much-)

@capn-twitchery's twitch of captain fame

[thee-morrigan]

wip whenever

someone please explain to me how what was supposed to be a relatively short post-Inversion Sam & Lovely centric fic has mutated into (currently) 2k+ words mostly dedicated to creating a whole childhood backstory for him figuring out magic in the context of the Appalachian foothills? (trick question: it's because I grew up in the Appalachian foothills and am obsessed with folk magic/regional folklore - but this has still gotten completely OUT OF HAND)

~anyway~, I've been tagged by a variety of folks recently, so figured I'd share a snippet of this one while I keep chipping away at it!

tagging: you there with the eyes <3 and ALSO: @achilleanwizard , @devilbunnyking , @ejunkiet , @sidestepping , @rosarx , @serenpedac if you want! (no pressure, as always!)

Maybe home was somehow like that. Maybe even if he’d lost the accent, some part of Sam would still immediately identify him as a valley-bred boy of the holler, no different all these many years later than he’d been when he was still little, still all scab-kneed and bird-voiced, and just as likely to be found in the branches of some tree as one of the creatures whose calls he’d studied like woodland scripture.

Not that he was uncomfortable in his own skin. Not at this point. No, by now he’d had plenty of time to come to terms with himself and his identity — even when that identity had been abruptly forced to shift after everything with Alexis. His turning, of course, and then everything that came after. He’d spent a long, long time reconciling his new abilities and limitations with himself — having what Aunt Ida would’ve called a “come-to-Jesus meeting” with himself (because somehow everything with that woman managed to circle back to Jesus, bless her heart).  

Across the room, Vincent’s partner (and now also his progeny, which was still such a strange thought) continued to bristle with nervous energy. They’d finally stopped pacing and were now perched on the arm of a wingback chair, only the toes of their Converse brushing the smooth wood of the floor, one knee bouncing in little hummingbird vibrations. At their neck, the fingers of one hand worried at an errant strand of hair curling against their collarbone, winding and unwinding. It was as if all that electric energy they’d once possessed, that lit up their aura like a Christmas tree, had become a fizzing, fidgeting static. All buzzing little movements and no way to displace the relentless noise of it.

He didn’t pity them, exactly, but he didn’t envy them, either. He remembered all too well the lurching realization that his magic — once a deep well within him — had become a shallow pool. Even though their circumstances were certainly much different, he knew that at least that piece of their transition would likely bear more than a little similarity to his own. 

He wondered if they’d felt like this since that first morning after (well, evening, technically — several evenings after if you felt like being real technical, which he rarely did — although he knew certain folks might argue that he specialized in technical details, such as the exact number of ribs someone might have broken, or, say, whether three concussions was “too many” for one person to have suffered).

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Ash, I don’t think you understand. I am OBSESSED with Muzzled!Kauri. Having said that I’ll just Bounce off of the other Anon about Everly.

“You know what you did to deserve this. You know why you’re here.”

CW: Pet whump, Facility whump, BBU, aftermath of total isolation, implied noncon (fade to black), noncon bathing

The trainee sits on the cold tile floor, shivering, following the movements of the handler with wide blue eyes just visible above the smooth black muzzle that locks away his mouth and keeps his jaw tightly shut. When Everly gets close to the door, he whimpers, barely sounding human, eyes filling with tears, but he still doesn't stand up, or try to follow.

It's cute.

Everly smirks as he goes about his prepwork - taking the filthy trainee outfit 465898 had worn during his time in solitary and disposing of it in a trash can near the lockers where extra outfits were kept, picking out clean new shirt and trainee shorts.

The spitting rage of a month, the bloody mouth and bared teeth, is gone. Instead, the trainee sits like a broken doll leaning back against the large metal pole his collar is hooked to, kneeling with hands on thighs, leaning slightly as if he would follow Everly anywhere he goes.

With those big blue eyes locked on him, nearly unblinking.

"Don't look at me like that," Everly says jovially, picking up two towels, putting them down on a nearby bench. "You know what you did to deserve this. Now, you know why you're here, '898, you know what you signed up for. So we're not going to have any more of that bullshit acting up, are we?"

He glances over his shoulder to see the trainee shake his head frantically, managing a muffled mm-mmmm behind his muzzle.

"Good. Good boys get attention, don't they? They get seen. Bad trainees get locked away where nobody even cares."

He moves over, his shoes squeaking a little - the floor hasn't quite dried from the last round of showers - and leans over. When his hands move to the straps of the muzzle, the trainee pushes himself up early, lifting his chin.

Everly chuckles. "Oh, there we go. See, how hard is it to just act nice for me, hm?" He undoes the fingerprint-coded lock, gently pulling the muzzle away, listening to the sound of the trainee's panting breaths afterwards, his little whine as he tests his jaw and it aches at finally being able to reopen.

There's a silence. Everly nudges the trainee's bare, bruised knee with his shoe. "What do we say, '898?"

Those big blue eyes raise back to his, and the trainee whispers, "Th-thank you, Handler Everly."

"Good boy."

Everly dumps the muzzle in the bin to be cleaned and returned to general use, then comes back, standing back as he turns on the spray of hot water, and the trainee's soft moan of relief as the heat hits and he relaxes, the way he tilts his head into the spray to wet that dirty hair... that's damn near illicit.

"You can stand and get your own shampoo if you'd like, '898," Everly says.

It's a test.

And, just like he should, the trainee blinks through water, turns to look back up at him, and says, "Will... will you do it, Handler Everly? Will you do it for me, please?"

Everly grins. "Of course I will, pet."

What a difference a month can make.

[kodzukenscorner]

Bokuto, Tsukishima, and Kuroo’s first time with their S/O (NSFW)

anon asked: Not sure if you’ve already done this or not, but could you do some hcs with bokuto, tsukki, and kuro on their first times with their s/o? 🙈❤️

a/n: I’m doing my best to get used to nsfw so i hope this was ok!! and geez this is so long. under the cut cause…ya know lol (all characters are 18+) also yes i reposted this, i was unhappy with the formatting of the last one lol

wc: 2,046

✶   ✶   ✶   ✶   ✶

Bokuto

How did you ever survive nearly a year in your relationship without having sex with this guy?

Because just seeing him play volleyball, spiking like there’s no tomorrow, those thighs…yea no idea how you held out for so long

Especially considering how high his sex drive is

Anyway…it was after one of his matches where he scored the winning point

You were both buzzing with excitement and he kissed you immediately after it was over

And by kiss, I mean full-on makeout in front of his entire team

Yeah they all pretended not to see anything

But when you two pulled apart and you both had this serious look in your eyes, he told his team he couldn’t go to their victory dinner and was gonna head straight home with you to deal with…stuff

He was not slick

But you didn’t care because holy shit he looked so hot playing

As soon as you got home he pinned you against the wall and resumed kissing you

He didn’t stop for one second, not even when he picked you up and brought you to the bed in the bedroom

He worked his way down your neck to your collarbone and to the exposed skin on your abdomen when your shirt rode up

He pulled your skirt down leaving you in your panties

He looked up at you with bright eyes

“Can I babe?? Is that ok?”

“Yes please Kou”

He beamed at you as he slid off your underwear and spread your thighs open

It was kind of embarrassing having him just stare at you like that but before you could say anything he licked your folds slowly

You let out a loud moan at the sudden contact, which was enough to get Bokuto really going

He started sucking shamelessly at your clit, relishing in the sounds of your moans

His tongue inside of you had you arching your back off the bed, fisting a handful of his hair

He was not letting up for one second and you felt yourself getting close to your orgasm

“Kou please. I want to cum on your dick please”

He smirked up at you finally pulling away from your soaking wet core

He pulled off his clothes and told you to undress yourself, which you happily obliged to

With both of you naked, you pulled him down for another kiss, tasting yourself on his lips while you grinded against his hard erection

He groaned into your mouth and lined himself up with your entrance, inserting the tip into you

You broke the kiss and moaned at the feeling, you bucked your hips a bit telling him to keep going

He kept his eyes on you as he completely filled you up, obsessed with how much pleasure was written across your face

He stopped his movements for a second just watching you to make sure you weren’t in any pain

You whined and begged him to do something

“Are you sure you’ll be ok?”

“Yes Kou just please fuck me”

Oh man did he fuck you

He did not let up and mercilessly started thrusting into, hoisting your legs up to his shoulders

He lifted your shirt and bra up because he loved to see how your breasts bounced while he thrusted into you

You were already sensitive from him eating you out so when he started pounding into you and filling you up completely, you were dangerously close to an orgasm

“Kou, I’m gonna cum”

He let you cum on his cock and the way you tightened around him and shouted his name, it was like you were trying to milk him

Once you came down from your high, he finally let up on his relentless thrusting and pulled out of you

He pumped his cock a few times and came onto your stomach before collapsing on top of you

“You did so great today Kou, I’m really proud of you” you whispered while stroking his hair

“Can we do this after every match I win??”

Tsukishima

Tsuki is not someone to spontaneously have sex with you

He wants this to be good for both of you and so you two plan this to an extent

You pick a day where the two of you are free and go out on a date beforehand and come back home feeling a bit anxious

You both knew you were going to have sex tonight and you were excited but also kinda nervous

He knew you were both a little on edge so he took the initiative and kissed you softly

He wasn’t forceful but the kiss was deep and passionate and it definitely made you weak in the knees

You both began making your way to the bedroom undressing each other along the way

By the time you two made it to the bed you were both down to your underwear

He gently laid you down on the bed and asked if you still wanted to do this

You nodded and pulled him back down for another kiss while he slipped his fingers into your panties slowly rubbing your heated core while his thumb played with your clit

It was slow and gentle but it still sent shockwaves through your body causing you to move your hips with his fingers

Your kisses became more desperate and messy when Tsuki slipped a finger into you and felt just how slick you were

You mewled under him and rubbed your thigh against his growing erection causing him to groan and slip another finger into you

You threw your head back and let out a surprisingly loud moan as he curled his fingers into you, pumping them steadily

“Kei no more teasing”

He kissed your forehead and removed his fingers from you, sliding your panties off while shimmying out of his own confinements

He was throbbing from how hard he was, already dripping with precum

But he took his time getting a condom and lube out to make sure you were comfortable with everything

He was a bit hesitant when he placed the tip of his cock at your wet entrance but you took the reins, wrapping your legs around his torso pushing him into you

He groaned from the pleasurable sensation of your tight walls surrounding him and you were moaning breathlessly at finally feeling him fill you up

He started steadily thrusting into you, playing with your exposed nipples and taking one into his mouth

You relished in the feeling and arched your back to give him better access

You started clawing at his back when his thrusts picked up and you knew he’d scold you later but you didn’t care

Whining his name you knew you were getting close but he wanted you both to reach your highs together

His thrusts became more erratic and you could tell he was about to come when you felt his cock twitch inside of you

He took his finger off your nipple and started rolling your clit between his fingers

That was enough to send you over the edge and when he saw how your eyes rolled back into your head he came right after you

Keeping up slow and sloppy thrusts he fucked you both through your orgasms

He rested his head on your shoulder while you both were trying to catch your breath

“I love you Kei”

“I love you too…what did you do to my back?”

Kuroo

You and Kuroo had been dating for a few months but had never had sex before

Things had definitely gotten hot and heavy between you before because well…have you seen him?

Kuroo has a high sex drive but he was always careful to take things slow with you

He didn’t want you to think he was taking advantage of you or just using you

But, he had a hard time keeping his hands to himself

You two certainly didn’t plan out when your first time would be, even though Kuroo had been fantasizing about it for quite a while now

It just sort of happened when a simple makeout session on the couch became a battle for dominance

When you started pulling him closer and letting out little moans into his mouth while his tongue danced with yours he started to lose his cool

He pushed you so your back was on the couch and he hovered over you, his lips never leaving yours

His hands worked their way up your shirt and when you raised your arms above your head, he took it as the go-ahead to get rid of the shirt altogether

You were still trying to catch your breath from your previous kiss and now with Kuroo lightly sucking and biting on your skin you couldn’t hold back your moans

And god did Kuroo love your moans

When his lips made their way down to the waistline of your pants, he looked up at you to make sure you were still okay with this

Your smile was enough for him to pull your pants and underwear off at once

You took the moment to undo your bra and discard that off to the side as well

When you noticed Kuroo just staring at your naked form, you got embarrassed and tried to cover yourself up

“What are you trying to hide kitten? You’re too beautiful to be embarrassed”

A smooth asshole

His lips attached to your neck again and you tugged on his shirt

He smirked but he took the hint, wasting zero time getting fully undressed with you

He’s been wanting this for a while so he was getting a little impatient

You blushed when you realized that he was uh…big

He DEFINITELY noticed and got the biggest ego boost ever

He kissed your jawline while his fingers made their way down to your folds and rubbed them lightly

You mewled and bucked your hips trying to get more friction

“You’re already this wet for me? Guess you’re just as horny as I am sweetheart”

You didn’t even care how embarrassing it was you just nodded your head

“Yes Tetsu, so please hurry up”

You didn’t have to tell him twice

Just because you and Kuroo did not plan this out does not mean he was not prepared

He picked up his pants from the floor and pulled a condom out from the pocket

Slipping it onto his painfully hard cock, he grabbed your legs and wrapped them around his waist

He rubbed his cock against your slit teasingly while you tried your hardest to not buck your hips against him

He noticed you biting your lip and chuckled while slowly sliding his cock into you

He took his time, making sure you were comfortable with his size and when he finally bottomed out you both sighed in pleasure

After a few experimental thrusts, he knew you were feeling good and started a slow and steady rhythm

Normally he would fuck you like there’s no tomorrow but this was your first time together, he wanted to make sure you were feeling good

So he was thrusting into you slowly and forcefully, feeling your walls tighten around him each time

He went back to kissing and sucking on your neck, littering it with tiny hickies while his fingers played with your clit

Your hands were lost in his hair while you breathlessly moaned out his name

“Tetsu, please…harder”

He hummed against your neck and started slamming his hips against yours

The sensation was too much and you started shouting out in pleasure

He felt you tighten around his cock like a vice and before you could even warn him, you came around him

You felt so good, squeezing his cock like that that Kuroo just couldn’t hold back anymore

He groaned and starting thrusting into you much sloppier and faster than before, prolonging your orgasm while chasing his own

With a few more feverish thrusts he finally came with a quiet moan of your name

You were both coming down from your highs when you looked up at him

“That was amazing”

He hummed and kissed some of your hickies as he lowly spoke against your skin “If you moan my name like that again, I won’t be so nice next time”

[the-archxr]

Waterloo!

steve harrington x reader

Summary: After witnessing you and a Family Video frequent flirting and connecting over your favourite band, Steve gets jealous and ends up showing you how ABBA should truly be celebrated.

A/N: so hahaha, I have recently been obsessed with Mamma Mia! and Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again, which led me to this fic, which is ONE THOUSAND PERCENT based off of the Waterloo scene from Here We Go Again, because the more I thought about it the more I realized that Steve is like Harry in that sense, so yeah. Here we are.

Song Inspo: Waterloo - ABBA, Waterloo - Hugh Skinner and Lily James (cause you can’t just pick one, m’kay?)

•••••

“Okay, but speaking in terms of the be-all to end-all of questions...”

The boy with the dirty blonde hair and ragged plaid shirt leans over the counter slowly. His blue eyes meet yours and his teeth are bared in a striking smirk. “And just so you know, your answer will determine the future of our relationship...”

You nod with a laugh. “Okay.”

“What’s your favourite ABBA song?”

You snort and shake your head, picking up his rental to ring it through.

He gives you an expectant look, which you respond with a simple shrug and and, “I don’t know.” 

He scoffs playfully. Gliding over to the register with ease he rests his head on his fist. You roll your eyes at the sight before you. If he wasn’t so cute, then you’d be severely turned off by the excessive forwardness.

“Aw, c’mon. Everyone has a favourite.”

After shutting the register with his exact change in it, you cross your arms with a sigh. “Well, if you were as true of an ABBA fan as you say you are, then you’d know that that’s a trick question. Because every ABBA song is good, therefore, they’re all my favourite.”

“Smartass,” he huffs, earning a laugh from you.

Suddenly you hear a loud “shit” come from behind you which grabs your attention from the flirtatious customer to your coworker and friend.

“You alright, Steve?”

He hops out from behind the back wall, a faint blush gracing his cheeks and neck. “Y-yeah. Just got attacked by these goddamn boxes.”

You laugh and look back to the blonde who still hasn’t left. Quirking an eyebrow, you look him up and down.

“You’re still here?”

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs with a shit-eating grin. “Was hoping I’d be able to talk to you a little more.”

“...About?”

He opens his mouth to speak before his eyes flit to the clock above you. “Shit, I gotta go. I have to pick up my little brother and his friends up from the pool.”

He grabs the VHS, before shooting you a wink as he waves goodbye.

It isn’t until after he leaves that you hear a scoff come from your coworker. You frown and spin on the heels of your feet.

“Something wrong, Stevie?”

He rolls his eyes and leans over to pick up the empty boxes he tripped on earlier. “No. Yes...? I don’t know. I guess, it’s just...him?”

Picking up the remaining boxes you follow him to the back. “What do you mean ‘him’?”

“Ah, c’mon he was practically eye-fucking you in the middle of the store. It was—it was gross and icky and...bleh.”

You laugh loudly at that and watch your friends hair bounce with the movement of hauling the cardboard into the large bin. “Bleh?”

“Bleh!” You both walk back to the door, which encourages Steve to hold it open for you. “I mean that’s a total Billy move.”

“Oh, so now he’s not just bleh, he’s a Billy.”

“Yeah,” Steve huffs and runs a hand through his hair. “Meaning he’s a complete and utter dick.”

“Just cause he was flirty?”

“That’s not being flirty that’s called being horny.”

You groan at his words, regardless of the fact that they don’t offend you in the slightest. If anything they amuse you.

You heave yourself on top of the counter, one leg splayed over the countertop and the other swaying idly. He gestures to the sticker gun beside you, which you grab and wave in his direction. “Oh, and you know something about the difference between flirty and horny?”

“Yeah, because I used to be that horny guy.” He snatches the sticker gun out of your hand and begins to wave it around as he walks to the one end of the store.

“Oh, right. Your whole King Steve faze.” You watch him shake his head at your words with a slight frown. You sigh. “King Steve, ruler of the horndogs.”

He laughs, making your plan in lightening up the mood a success.

The silence in the store pulls on for a few seconds before you reach over and turn on the radio—the hum of the static and muffled voices echoing through the building as you switch through the channels before you set it on the desired station.

You lean back and watch your friend move around the store lazily, putting bright pink stickers on the assortment of rentals haphazardly.

You frown as you think (a curse, cause you never seem to stop thinking), and sit up playing with the many woven bracelets on your wrist. “No, but seriously, Steve. What’s your problem with the guy?”

He stops his motions and turns to you. He looks nervous and his chest heaves up and down with trepidation. He opens his mouth to speak, but he pauses. You can practically see the words stuck on the tip of his tongue, before he sighs, mainly to himself, and shoots you a small (and kind of sad) smile.

“He has a favourite ABBA song. No one trustworthy has one favourite ABBA song.”

You laugh at his words, slapping your knee as you keel back to the wall with laughter. He laughs loudly too and tosses the sticker gun and himself on the countertop. He sits opposite of you with his Nike shoe pressing almost perfectly against the sole of your Converse.

You look at the clock and huff. Steve follows your line of sight and his face falls at the sight of the time. “We got a whole half hour left.”

You hum and close your eyes, resting your head against the wall. You stay like that until the radio announcers voice comes through. You open your eyes instinctively, only to see that Steve is already looking at you.

But maybe he wasn’t because with one blink he’s actually looking at the door.  An awkward cough resonates in the back of your throat as you groan.

That’s when the mans voice comes to a slow and the beginning of the next song plays. It takes you a second, but when you recognize the song your ears prick up and a smile graces your face.

Steve eyes you strangely as you grab the knob to turn up the sound. “What? What song is this?”

Your jaw drops in your friends direction. “Uh, Waterloo?”

“Water what?”

You laugh and hop off the counter, your feet already moving to the beat of the song. “Waterloo. It’s an ABBA song.”

“No I know this is ABBA. I’m slow, not stupid.” You cackle and roll your shoulders to the sound of the guitar. “I’ve just never heard it before.”

You grin before grabbing his hands and pulling him to the middle of the store which surprisingly has the most space. You sway both of your arms back in forth, in an attempt to coax him to start moving. An action that he doesn’t take to immediately.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be a Debbie Downer, Harrington.”

He scoffs. “I am not a Debbie Downer.”

You shake your head and stick your tongue out at him. “Well then, prove it. I mean, didn’t you used to be the funnest man in all of Hawkins?”

“Funnest isn’t a word.”

You gasp. “Wow, look who actually payed attention in English.”

He rolls his eyes and once again runs his hand through his damn hair. He stands there for a second, before a small grin appears on his face. “Also, what do you mean used to be?”

Your jaw drops as he grabs a hold of your arms and spins you around dramatically. You gasp, the breath being knocked out of you suddenly as he holds your arm above you and spins you twice. You laugh as he pulls you back into him, to which he begins to bounce around the space, spinning you every so often—much to your delight.

You gasp after another spin, but by the second verse you’re too caught up into wanting to sing the words then being worried about your lack of oxygen if you do so. “My, my! I tried to hold you back, but you were stronger!”

You spin on your heel away from him, the momentum sending you back into the counter with a laugh. “Oh yeah!” You both sing out.

Then, with a wink and a spin of his body, he uses his hand and slicks his hair back in a Greaser fashion, earning another string of laughter from you. Jumping back to you, your back is pulled into his chest as he holds an arm out and runs forward.

The bun in which you put your hair in is now dangling loosely just below your shoulders, and as he spins you for the nth time, fate would have it that some of your hair gets in his mouth. Steve sputters and makes a face, causing the both of you to erupt in another fit of laughter. Soon, you both are dancing like fools, completely in your own space, yet never too far from the others reach. “Waterloo! Finally facing my Waterloo!”

He takes your hand firmly, spins you and as the song nears the end you almost fall to the ground. However, with Steve’s knee propped up beneath you, he has you dipped and breathless. His eyes are partially closed and as he pulls you up you almost grow dizzy from him dipping you a second time. This time, the dip is more dramatic and your loose hair falls onto the ground in a soft pile, indicating that you’re far lower than the first time. 

“Waterloo!” He sings, finally getting the lyrics to the song.

“Knowing my fate is to be with you.” You finish. The song ends abruptly and both of you are at a loss of breath as you try to tune down the echo of laughter.

It’s at that moment that the sound of a door bell jingling has you both breaking away from each other awkwardly. Still out of breath, you hurriedly rush to the counter and try to smooth down your hair. (Not that you expect that to hide anything with the way your cheeks are so inflamed. If anything, whoever had come in would think that they caught you in Steve in the middle of something else.) 

Your eyes finally focus on the customer, realizing that it’s the same blonde boy from earlier. “Hey, again.” He winks at you, resting his forearm on the countertop.

“Hey,” you say back. Your eyes flit over to Steve, whose back is faced to both of you. He’s already walked to the other side of the store, and the obvious distance he has quickly put between himself and the customer makes you think.

But you don’t have to think too hard as the realization practically hits you over the head. You suddenly grin and look at the counter, the feeling of your cheeks reddening further blooming throughout your upper body.

“So, uh...” the boy in flannel begins, clicking his tongue. “I came back.”

“I see that.” You counter him quickly with a soft smile.

He laughs and runs a hand over his jaw before looking to you. He hesitates. But only for a moment. “I’m tryna’ ask you out, ya know.”

You nod at that. “Yeah, I know.”

He pauses as he bites the inside of his cheek. Suddenly, the air around you two has turned very awkward and you can tell that he knows it.

“So...”

You shrug. “So?”

Shoving his hands in his pockets he moves his shoulders up in question. “So what do you say?”

You look down at your bracelets for a moment before looking back at him with a soft smile. “I’d have to say that I’m flattered. But, uh, no thanks.”

The boys eyes widen, as does Steve’s who’s attention is now on both of you.

The blonde nods and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh...okay then. Thanks for being honest at least.”

You smile at him, which sends the boy back to the door and on his way. You let out the breath you had been holding in and look to Steve who looks just as shocked as the other guy.

“What just happened?”

“I said no to his offer.” You say matter-of-factly as you walk around the counter and closer to your friend. He shifts from foot to foot, his eyes telling you that his brain is going a mile a minute.

“W—why? Why would you say no?”

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “Usually you say no to a date when you don’t want to go on a date. At least, I don’t want to go on a date with him anyway...”

Your voice trails off purposely as you look directly at the boy in question. Steve is still stunned and is still very confused, which makes you want to laugh at his obliviousness.

It’s cute though...his obliviousness.

...He’s cute.

“Steve,” you say lowly. He’s biting his lip, and the slightest hint of worry blooms over his features.

“...Yeah?”

You sigh. “Well I’m trying to imply that I want to go on a date with you...”

If you didn’t know better, you’d say that Steve had stopped breathing. Eliciting a laugh from you, you glide closer to him and look the boy in the eyes. “Steve...did I break you?”

He almost short circuits in a sense and looks at you with disbelief. “You want to go on a date with me?”

You shrug with a nod. “I think it could be fun.”

The poor boy stands there, still in shock. You shake your head and kiss him on the cheek before walking to the counter and grabbing your bag.

“Pick me up at 8 tomorrow at Dustin’s and we’ll go to Dairy Queen or something.”

His eyes and mouth are wide open as his gaze follows you to the door. The door barely closes behind you before you pop your head back in the store. “Oh, also, Steve since you’re the last one in here you gotta’ lock up.” You smile widely at him and run off before he can protest.

But even with the thought of having to lock up present in his mind, Steve doesn’t feel like protesting. When he comes back to his senses he nods to himself with a smile and runs to the back; excitement coursing through him.

•••••

Steve Harrington Taglist:

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[honestsycrets]

The Gilded Cage VIII: Sestra, Sestra

❛ pairing | ivar x rus!reader, brother!oleg x sister!reader

❛ type | multi, square Peach for Ivar.

❛ summary | ivar just wants to be free of her to start over again. too bad she’s not done with him.

❛ story tags | impotency, anxiety, PTSD, nsfw, trickery (Oleg), angst, sibling incest (one way), obsessed Oleg, angry Oleg, jealous Oleg, deceit, Rus Princess!reader, general jealousy, time period ableism, manipulation, psychotic Oleg, hallucinations, exhibitionism, mention of death, mention of spousal abuse, voyeurism, arranged marriage within family, platonic!igor x reader, ivar4b-age!igor, spanking, discipline, fingering, assault, aftercare, obsession.

❛ sy’s notes | look at the tags before reading. Sestra: Sister, I used proto-slavic even though that was a bit off.

The first kiss is reminiscent of the plump peaches Oleg has imported from the south for you. Modestly sweet, strange, delicious against his tongue. The first time Ivar trusts you-- but really, really trusts you, it’s as if a hundred peacock butterflies have set off in his stomach, fluttering wings and all, rustling around in his belly.

He shifts, his naked belly between your thighs, leaning up against your dress. Only one layer separates you from him, and in that beauty, Ivar groans. It isn’t as if you are one of those women-- one of the ones at home with thin layers and thinner morals. 

You took pride in your veil, your long dresses, something fitted a little looser, vests and capes of rich silver furs. For a woman with such morals to be stripped down-- a Christian woman-- you knew how he felt about it. He didn’t simply like it. He was hungry for it. 

“Is it too tight--?” you ask modestly, climbing down his body. 

“I’m fine.” 

What now? He lays there, chest heaving, cognizant of the candles flickering light all around him. Any one of the guards could lend a spear to run him through with. To crawl in bed with a Christian, his blood runs cold as he thinks of what Floki would say. He has truly disobeyed his gods as a god. From behind the strip of cloth over his eyes, everything is a cloth black. He wishes he hadn’t done this. He wishes he hadn’t--

“Ivar,” you whisper so gently, and everything is easy. It’s too easy and good, and that gives him a chill. Fingertips ghost over his chest, drawing to one side to the other. It must make you feel like a queen to have the power you did. “Let go.”  

His world goes blank when he feels your clothes fall to the side of him. You sweep down, the tips of your breasts graze his chest-- and the thin fabric of your veil does too. He considers your hair tickling his skin, and for a moment everything felt right. 

He’d touch you if he could but with his hands above his head he as helpless to all the control he so desperately needed. Your thumb flicks, dragging over his nipple, and he jerks like a caged in wolf, rooting in the pillow under his cheek.

“Too much?” you ask him. 

“I’m not a woman,” he insists. You bite small nips between his chest. His teeth gnash. Between them, the smallest of moans rupture past his locked teeth. Those small, teasing bites are like some stupid game with his body. 

“How does it feel?” 

Your hand connects with his half hard erection and he chews on the right words mixed with frustration. You hook your pinky under the ties bouncing them loose. He’s surrounded by your soft words and the sweet care you take in undressing him. 

“I--” he groans, searching for the words to explain why-- he can’t. He dry heaves the air, pouring it out in one long gust. “Not yet.” 

Your hands settle over the top of his pants, and before long you’re molding your hand over his shape, because he’s-- he’s firm. You stop a moment, and he while he can’t see it, he hears it. His taut muscles tighten and roll as he feels you shift over him.

“I’m a little soft,” you whisper, like an absolute divine Christian angel. Your hips take to their own movement, grinding over him as if you were here to deliver him pleasure. Oleg-- his mind wanders, remembering the old fool and how protective your brother was.

If he were here… 

“I like it,” Ivar answers. “It’s-- nice.” 

You settle over him, balancing on your knees, rolling over him, and he’s aware of his body’s reaction. Swelling to firm hardness, that’s not the hard part-- the hard part was the work, and the expectation to keep up. He imagines you above him, your cheeks flaring in rushed embarrassment. You move against him, pretending that you knew what you were doing. Then he’d pretend like he knew what he was doing-- because he was a man. 

And he’s meant to know what to do, beyond his image, beyond being King Ivar the Boneless… Boneless. His tongue slides anxiously over his lip. Suddenly he can’t-- he can’t-- and you stop his train of thought by dragging nails past his toned chest. Images of Freydis soar into his mind. His hands jerk above his head, wheezing a heavy breath, catching air in forced gulps of panic. What’s wrong? you say. 

Your fingers pull at the rope around his hands, loosening it quick. Ivar thrusts himself forward and snatches the blindfold from his bright eyes, small in the expanse of the blue sclera, and you’re not sure what’s happened. Only that as he pushes you off to the side, leaning over the edge to catch his breath, it must be you. 

Everything rushes back to him. He’s not home, in his great wooden bed surrounded by familiar things. He’s here where guards kept out his door at night and the windows were high in the air, too far to jump from, and-- he’s Oleg’s glorified prisoner in this tower high above the ground.

Then there’s you. 

“I did something… wrong?” you suspire softly, but there’s no way that Ivar would answer the way he gulps air. He knows what you must be thinking. Something about you-- something about you was off-- and wrong to him to react in such a way. You sulk to the other side of the bed, drawing a white dress to make yourself decent. 

“Am I wrong?” 

His head turns, past the dry heaving that’s filled his head with an unnecessary amount of air, like he was up in the clouds with Oleg again-- his wretched laughing ringing his ears. You stand upright, not yet forgetting the horror that previously set on his face. Whatever had happened, you had fucked up, you had thrown him into the likes of a panic you had never seen on his handsome face. Ivar tucks a long brown chunk of air behind the shell of his ear. 

“Don’t go,” he reaches out, touching the hem of your dress with a hand that shook akin to crackling wildfire. It’s desperate to stop you. “It isn’t you.”

“Then what is it?” 

He stops then, lip curling, and responds. “...you…” breathless, he makes words, “...reminded me of her.” 

It doesn’t register at first. No, it could have been anyone that he was talking about. He looks at you with such conviction and truth that immediately thereafter, you realize that it is his wife he means. That the whole time you were there, with him, this woman had been sinking through his brain. Suddenly whatever pleasure you had in the intimacy of the moment with him has shriveled there. The moment has drawn cold. You bring your hands around your arms, forcing warmth to fill your body because it’s all you have to cling onto.

“Okay.” 

In his absence of a sufficient reply, you slip out of the room in a rushed half-formed plan to sink away from the room like the wind. Vasilli stands there. You’ve forgotten him in the presence of the man that sits on the heavy wooden stairs. His hands were clasped, gnawing on his knuckle. It registers with him all at once that you’ve slipped away from Ivar’s room not because of the noise, or a call, but because your sluggish steps brought you to collapse on top of him. Oleg’s mind halted, lip quivering apart in something of a shit eating smile, until he realizes that whatever had happened had been sufficient.

“Sestra.” 

The memory of his arms, the security of them when your father was pushing and pushing for marriage, until his “untimely” death solidified something strange in your mind. That whatever it was-- Oleg would take care of it. Because your Oleg was a safe haven, one where rebellious nature would always bring you back to him. The tears bubbled over your cheeks in hideous sniffles. 

“Sestra,” Oleg urged, bringing you to stand on legs limp like wet cloth. His voice wavers with a concealed happiness. Past your bubbling tears, the flicker of the torches that kept the hallway to Ivar’s room illuminated flickered. “Come, let us… go to your room. You can tell me what happened.” 

He carries you back to your rooms-- your mother’s before yours. It fails to come to your attention that Igor is nowhere to be found. Nor that woman who so captured Ivar’s love, attention, and arousal. It is lit in soft scented candles, each one flickering with warm shade. You find yourself face to face with Oleg, laying side to side, body to body. His dark eyes seem friendlier then they have in days, smoothing over your back over and over. 

“--of Katya? He could not--” 

“Please don’t mock him. Men don’t-- you know how prideful they are,” you say, your hand against his chest, pleading with him for the privacy of the moment. Oleg recalls your fondness for Ivar the cripple, and smiles justifiably. “I would not do that.” 

You look skeptically at him. 

“I am surprised, that is all.” He muses almost idly, although he focuses on you with clear purpose. “He has the very jewel of the Rus in his bed and he could not follow through with it.” 

“It is not obligation,” you blurt out. “It is love.” 

His eyes glitter in amusement as he looks into your wet ones, which have scarred over with the tears you kept spilling at the mention of Katya’s name. “Why is it that she has all the love and I none?” it’s a soft whisper, one that you must have thought he didn’t catch, but you needed to speak it. 

“Ah how dramatic. That isn’t true,” Oleg amends. His hands find your small waist, securing himself against you. “Perhaps you have all you need. You have my love.” 

You look at him with a bewildered frown, your eyes suddenly heavier with the pulsing behind your eyes, demanding more tears be shed. “It is not the same.” 

“It could be if you let me.” You blink, wet tears coating your lashes, and as you rub them away, he seizes the chance to come closer, on top of you. “I would move the very earth for you.” 

You don’t doubt that. You’ve seen it. Your father’s failed arrangement-- and his timely death. “I know, Oleg.” 

“Let me.” His palm slips your thighs apart, and your eyebrows press together, chasing the sensation of his broad palms slipping your thighs apart and in that place, he slips between your legs with cautious movement.

You really thought Ivar would be it.

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[bluesfortheredj]

Grigor the lover.

Smut ahead.

The women in the court could be cruel. Mostly to Catherine since she arrived, but occasionally they’d turn their attentions back to you; making snide comments about how you didn’t quite fit in to their group, or how your choices of gown were limited due to the amount of time it would take to make you one simply because you were little larger than most of them. You didn’t take much notice of them in all honesty because not only did you have a man who completely worshipped your body, but a few other admirers of it as well, including Peter… unfortunately.

“Peter has summoned us,” Grigor says quietly as he joins you at the window in the main hallway.

Your breath fogs up the glass and you draw an unhappy face in the cloud of white before turning to him and pouting exaggeratedly much to his amusement.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” he smiles.

“How?”

“I can’t possibly reveal such things.”

“Grigor,” you whine as you slide your hands up his coat, “please.”

He rolls his eyes at your needy whine that he is powerless to resist but before he can divulge the dirty details of exactly how he’d make it up to you Peter is suddenly at your side with a ridiculous grin on his face as he stares down at your ample bosom before looking up at the window.

“Hello! Oh! Someone’s drawn a face on the window… ha! How odd. Right, come on you two, I need your help.”

He pushes his way between your bodies and links his arms through yours as he marches you both to his dining room where a glorious spread is awaiting you. This was certainly one of the few advantages to being so close to Peter; you had access to the finest food, drink, and fabrics available to him and it was worth the ogling and leering. Peter would encourage you to relax when in his and Grigor’s company such as letting your hair down, loosening your dress, kicking off your shoes… You knew what he was after, as did Grigor, and you let Peter have his eye full of your curvy figure but never anything more, and it seemed to satisfy his lust for you quite well, as well as having quite the effect on your husband who was eager to remind you who you belonged to as soon as you returned to your apartment.

“(Y/N), I insist, as your Emperor, that you forgo any formalities and simply act as if you were in your own sitting room,” Peter smiles as he takes his seat at the head of the table.

You look over at Grigor and give him a wink, “but Peter, if I were to do that I would be sat in Grigor’s lap warming his length inside of me.”

“What a wonderful thought!” Peter exclaims.

Grigor looks up from his food with a confused frown before directing his bemusement towards his friend, and Peter quickly shakes his head at him.

“Not with you, obviously,” he scoffs, “with me! Grigor, tell me what it’s like watching those breasts bounce in front of you when she’s on top.”

“Oh, well, it’s...” he drops his fork and lifts his hands up as if grabbing onto your chest, “it’s absolutely glorious. I mean, there they are, so full and round…” his fingers flex to signify a squeezing motion, “I’m hard just thinking about it to be honest.”

“As am I!” Peter agrees, shifting around in his seat.

You didn’t mind the men chatting like this, you were used to it, and Grigor only indulged Peter’s fantasies because he knew it would keep him from making a move on you, as it could be detrimental to you both if you were to refuse him. Your eyes stay transfixed on your husband as he smiles shyly across the table at you and you have to fight every muscle in your body to stay seated and not walk around to be with him. Grigor talks to Peter but all you can hear is his side of the conversation as you watch his lips move and his hands gesticulate along with his words while his gaze returns to yours for a split second every so often. You were obsessed with the man, completely and utterly consumed by him, and whenever you were with him it was as if the rest of the world didn’t even exist; it was just the two of you in your own little universe.

“Grigor, I’m suddenly feeling very unwell,” you gasp, bringing your hand up to your chest as you feign illness, “may we go back to the apartment?”

“Of course!” Grigor nods, pushing his chair out and making his way to your side of the table.

“Oh, I do hope you feel better soon,” Peter frowns with concern as he watches Grigor help you to your feet, “do let me know if you need anything.”

“We will, thank you,” Grigor replies as you head towards the door.

It’s not long until you’re back in the privacy of your own domain and you drop the act as soon as you’re through the door; pulling loose the lacing of your dress and letting it fall to the floor as you stand there looking at your husband with a devilish smile on your lips.

“You were pretending?” he laughs.

“I want you,” you exhale softly, “I want you so much.”

Grigor takes a sharp inhale of breath as you allow part of your slip dress to fall from your shoulder, pulling the neckline down and teasing him with a glimpse of your soft skin. He falters as he opens his mouth to speak but is unable to form any words, let alone a sentence, but then he blinks twice in quick succession and finally engages his brain.

“Sit on my face,” he says softly.

“What?!” you question, hoping you heard him right.

“I want to lay down on the bed then have you lower yourself right onto my face,” he explains slowly as your mouth falls open at the prospect.

“Grigor, I-”

“I want to feel your swollen lips on my mouth, your supple backside resting on my chest, your thighs tensing around me as you soak my tongue with your arousal.”

Your mind fails you so a light whimper escapes from your lips instead of anything coherent and you almost rip your undergarments from your body as Grigor swiftly undresses and assumes his position on your shared bed. His words made you dizzy with lust and you slowly crawl up the bed beside him as he licks his lips in anticipation; those inviting pink lips that you can’t resist kissing before you straddle his upper body in preparation. His hands guide your legs forwards until all he can see when he looks up are your glistening folds hovering above him, then he slides his arms around your thighs and pulls you down to his already open mouth. Your hands reach out for the top of the headboard as you let out an almighty moan at the feel of Grigor lapping lengths of your slit over and over again before slipping his tongue inside you and sucking along your folds until he reaches your sensitive nub; it was overwhelming.

“Grigor,” you whine, “oh my god, Grigor!”

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you feel yourself tensing up as his mouth eats you like it was his last meal, and you look past your stomach to see him with his eyes closed, enjoying every second of it almost as much as you were. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your thighs when you try and lift yourself when the sensation becomes too much and he keeps you held tightly in place as your whimpers and pants become faster and more desperate.

“I can’t… I’m going to…” a screech follows your stuttered words as your muscles release before they begin to pulsate vigorously while Grigor continues to swirl his tongue around, and you soon realise that he has no intention of letting you go yet.

His teeth graze along your enlarged lips making you shiver above him, then he begins to lavish relentless attention on your stiff button that’s now white hot with pleasurable pain, and you’re very vocal with each movement his tongue makes; alternating circling motions with pressing against it with varying pressures. Your hands are gripping the headboard so tightly now that you’re sure they’re about tear a chunk of it off while you pant Grigor’s name as another climax builds quickly. Sweat is beading on your body by the time you orgasm again and Grigor hums happily as he delves his tongue inside your soaked walls and feels your juices coating it. When he finally releases his grip and you carefully move to sit next to him you get to see just how red and swollen his lips are, and the skin around his mouth is shining with a mix of his saliva and your arousal.

“Kiss me,” you whisper as he goes to wipe his face clean.

He smiles as he lowers his arm back down and you lean over him to press your lips to his so you can capture the sweet and salty taste that surrounds his mouth, and your tongue sweeps across his chin as your hand travels down from his neck to his stiff member that stands proud from his body.

“Grigor… can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

You lean on one elbow as you pull away from him, still stroking his length slowly and circling his tip with your thumb, “will you fuck my mouth while you spank me?”

His body twitches at your question and his eyes grow wide.

“Ye… Yes (Y/N),” he nods.

You smile and bite down gently on your lower lip as you turn your body towards where your other hand is, then lift a leg over his body once more before flicking your tongue over the small pool of secretions that had already gathered at his tip and slowly parting your lips as you take him in your mouth. The sound of him whimpering at your touch sends excitement flowing through your veins and he manages to lift his hands to your thick thighs here he runs them up and down the smooth skin before lifting one hand and bringing it down with a loud slap on your arse cheek. It jolts you forward and your eyes water as his member moves to the back of your throat, then he begins to lift his hips off of the bed as you find a comfortable position to stay in, and he fucks you hard and fast as your saliva drips down his length when he sets off your gag reflex.

“You’re taking me so well,” he pants, “I’m not going to last long.”

You move your lips back a little so that your teeth graze along his pulsing veins ever so slightly, then you reach forwards to his soft sack and massage it gently which earns a loud groan from behind you, and you feel another sharp smack that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head at the sensation. The breathing through your nose just about manages to keep up with the sucking you’re doing and the faster he thrusts, the faster his palms rain down on your cheeks, and then he pushes three fingers inside of you as he continues to spank you with his other hand. You hum around his cock as you begin to move your body back and forth to the rhythm of his fingers, and the vibrations that run along his member only push him further to the edge until a couple of minutes later he stills inside your mouth, pushing you to the limit with how deep he is inside you, and releases his seed with a groan of your name.

“Stay where you are,” he exhales as you swallow what he gave you and lift your head from his length.

His fingers continue to pump inside you as his thumb now rubs around your overly sensitive nub, and the smacks that alternate between your cheeks leave pleasurable stings on your skin that are in such a contrast to the pleasure you’re feeling inside. You have to lean your head down on his thigh as the sensation becomes too much for you to handle, and you end up a panting mess when you climax for the third time; rolling off of his body very unceremoniously and landing in a sweaty heap. He chuckles as he looks at your exhausted frame, then kisses his way up from your thighs to your stomach pouch, then up to your breasts and finally to your lips.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers as he rubs your stomach lovingly, “you’re perfect.”

“And I’m all yours,” you grin.

could you write some kinky grigor smut? &

Can I request a plus size reader and grigor?

[worldwidemochiguy]

preview of Onyx Tower (yandere mafia! Jungkook)

Paring: yandere! Jungkook x reader

Warnings: Yandere behaviour (obviously), car sex, fingering, oral (female giving, male receiving)

Summary: After begging Jeongguk for weeks to let you go back to school, he finally acquiesces. However, your excitement over this turns out to be short lived when Jeongguk takes it upon himself to pick you up and see what kind of ‘friends’ you have exactly. 

Author’s Note: I know it says ‘School’ but reader is NOT underage, the reader is a senior (18 years old) and therefore of legal age, and Jeongguk is only 3 years older. The reader and Jeongguk’s respective ages are addressed in another scene in the fic but I didn’t include it in this because it is in a different part of the story so it would be kinda weird to read, so I just thought I'd put it here instead: THIS IS NOT AN UNDERAGE SMUT FIC! BOTH THE READER AND JEONGGUK ARE OVER THE AGE OF CONSENT!! ok carry on reading now :) 

Masterlist :) 

  You were less than excited for the end of the day. You had been looking forward to going to school again and see all of your friends, whom you had sorely missed, and you knew that Jeongguk, despite begrudgingly allowing you to go, would not be pleased with you. And it seemed you were right to worry when you left class at the end of the day to see a massive tittering crowd in the car park. You and Usoh could hear snatches of conversation as you drew closer.

“Look at that car holy shi-”

“Who is he here for?”

“He’s so hot, even if he looks like he’s gonna murder someone.”

As soon as you heard the last comment, you knew who they were crowded around. You tried to get through the gaggle of people, but there were too many, all desperately vying for a better look. This only increased your frustration; Jeongguk was probably going to blame you for being late as well, even though he was the one who obviously made the choice to pick you up in person with an ostentatiously expensive car. You were close to screaming in exasperation when a deep voice cut through the crowd.

“I am here for Y/n.” 

A ripple of surprise echoed through the sizeable crowd. “Where is she?” 

Those surrounding you were quick to turn and stare, nudging the people in front of them, causing them to move to the side and create a veritable pathway which led you all the way to Jeongguk’s frowning face. You returned with a scowl of your own, striding through the clearing as quickly as possible, ignoring Usoh’s shocked gasps behind you. Everyone was staring. You began to hear questions, asking who the man was, how you knew him, and how he was so rich. Many of your classmates seemed to think he was some kind of celebrity. 

As soon as you reached the car — a black Bugatti Veyron that had drawn several jealous and adoring looks from your male classmates — Jeongguk took you by the wrist to lead you to the passenger’s side, opening the door for you and practically shoving you in. You heard your classmates coo at his display of ‘chivalry’. He crossed to the drivers side again and got in, barely sparing you a glance as he started up the engine, devoting all of his attention to glaring at your classmates. You guessed they did seem pathetic. Your classmates had their phones out, filming the car they would never earn enough to buy, gossiping as if it was the most interesting thing all week. 

Once you were on the road, Jeongguk directed a look at you. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to, just like you didn’t have to look at him to know what he meant. His face said This was what you were so desperate to get back to? Really? You fumed silently, and then shot back a look which you hoped conveyed your sentiment: Isn’t it telling that I’d still rather be with those people than with you?

“I can’t believe you picked me up yourself.” Is what you said instead. “And with a Bugatti.”

“Do you have anything personal against Bugattis? If so, I can always just bring the Lamborghini. Or the Aston Martin.” He smirked lazily and you were so tempted to bash his head against the steering wheel.

“It isn’t appropriate for school.” You reply primly, folding your hands in your lap. 

“I’m sorry, Princess.” Jeongguk’s tone dripped with condescension, and poorly masked jealousy. “I didn’t realise you would have so many friends watching. Tell me, are all of the boys at that school obsessed with you? Or, is it only most of them?” He spat out the word ‘boys’ as if they were so far beneath him, when in reality he was only a few years older himself. 

“No, I think it is all of them.” You snarked, exaggerating in order to annoy him. “Baekhyun was so concerned over my absence, Jinyoung made me promise to text him, oh, and Taemin-” You were interrupted by Jeongguk pulling over suddenly, and before you knew it he had reached over and yanked you out of your seat, unclipping your seatbelt and dragging you onto his lap in one smooth movement. 

You sat there mute for a few seconds, purely out of shock. He noticed and laughed cruelly, ghosting a hand over your cheekbone while the other rested possessively on your lower back. 

“Is this what I have to do to stop you speaking other mens’ names?” He snarled, the hand on your back pressing you further down his lap until your chests were flush. You remain silent. 

The two of you pause there, breaths intermingling. Then Jeongguk growled, low and harsh.

“You’re mine.” This seemed to snap the last thread of his control and he buried his face in your neck, licking and bitting, determined to mark you so everyone knew who you belonged to. And you couldn’t do much but sit there and allow him to do as he wanted, gasping when he fisted his hand in your hair and yanked backwards so that you were forced to arch your neck, exposing more skin for him to bruise. You were lost in the sensation, pleasure and pain converging into one as you writhed on his lap.

He was hardening beneath you, and you could feel your panties starting to dampen as you grinned your hips against his dick, desperate for some form of friction. He pulled away from your neck slightly to release a hoarse chuckle.

“So desperate for me, aren’t you, Princess?” As he said this, his hand found its way under your skirt and his fingers brushed the edge of your panties. Your hips bucked involuntarily and he released another chuckle, but you were too far gone to care.

“Yes, Jeongguk, please, please-” You panted as he ran his fingertips along the top of your thigh, edging higher and higher but never where you wanted them.

“What do you need, baby? Use the words you learnt in that fucking school you were so desperate to go to.” His voice became even lower, poisoned with anger. “Fuck, you’re probably so wet already because you fucked some boy in a supplies closet. Is that it, huh, is that it?”

“No!” You almost sobbed, the teasing overwhelming you. “No, I didn’t let anyone touch me. Only you, Jeongguk, only you.” He smirked triumphantly, before repeating himself.

“What do you need, baby?”

“You, your fingers inside me, filling me up so I can never forget who I belong to, who owns me- Jeongguk please-” His hand finally plunged underneath the soft cotton material, one finger immediately pressed inside of you insistently while he rubbed your sensitive bundle of nerves. You sobbed in relief, moving your hips as you started to bounce up and down on his hand. 

His mouth returned to your throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses and praises against it as he pressed another finger inside you, curling them expertly. You felt your climax approaching and you started whimpering, causing him to rear up and pepper your face with kisses. As your eyes rolled backwards in your head, you caught a glimpse of a handgun poking out the side of the car door compartment. The man who had almost definitely used that gun to riddle bodies with bullets, killing countless other people was, at that moment, whispering what a good little girl you were into your hairline, and telling you how precious you were to him. The contrast between his dangerous lifestyle and the amount of care he had for you only intensified the sensations he made you feel. 

The air in the car was turning heady, permeated with the scent of sex and the noises of your pants and whines.

“J-Jeongguk,” you moaned, and he hummed in reply, adding a third finger and making it more difficult for you to think.

“Yes, Princess?”

“Can I- I mean, I want to- can I please-”

“Do you want to come, Princess?”

“Yes,” you sobbed, “please, Jeongguk.”

“Ok baby,” he whispered, lips brushing against yours, “Come for me.” 

You finally let the wave surging inside you crash and you felt yourself drift away into nothingness for a while, your only anchor being his caress, his still-insistent fingers moving inside of you, carrying you through the orgasm. After a moment, you whined from over-sensitivity and he pulled them out slowly. You came to a rest on his lap, directly above his erection, which made both of you hiss. 

“Princess, you know I love you on my lap, but you need to get off now.” You scrambled to obey his instructions, putting your skirt and panties back into place and sitting in the passenger seat again. Jeongguk started up the car and pulled off the hard shoulder that you were parked on, rejoining the road. You noticed his dick, still standing to attention, straining against his trousers and decided that, after he had taken care of you so well, you wanted to return the favour. 

Without looking over, you reached to the side and unbuttoned his trousers, your fingers so familiar with the clasp by now that it was easy to open. After that your hand darted in to pull out his dick, pumping it a few times and smearing the beads of precome from the engorged head. Jeongguk swore colourfully, his breath catching as you twisted your wrist in the way that you knew he liked. 

“Princess…” 

“Yes Jeongguk?” You looked at him from beneath your lashes, catching your lip, that was still swollen and slick from kissing him, between your teeth slightly.

“I have to focus on the road…” You hummed in agreement, and then leaned down to swallow his dick.

“Shit!” Jeongguk yelled, his hips bucking up into the tight heat of your mouth. You had been expecting this, relaxing your throat to allow him to thrust into it. He seemed to realise this and he held your head down to his crotch, his hand pushing on the back of your neck, completely dominating you. 

“Fuck, Princess,” Jeongguk sounded wrecked, and you moaned in satisfaction around him, causing him to give another shallow thrust into your throat, “You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you? Anyone driving by can see your mouth on my cock, but you’re so eager to please me that you don’t care.” He let off your neck to allow you to take a breath. You pulled off his cock for a second, panting with your body slumped and your face pressed against his thigh, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. After a moment, you began nuzzling his ballsack with your nose, before running your tongue lightly up his dick and swallowing him down again.

“You’re so fucking perfect, Princess.” Jeongguk was fully fucking into your mouth now, quick, shallow thrusts that made you wonder how he was still steadily driving the car. You could tell he was about to come, and you wanted to swallow it all but he pulled you off by your hair. Understanding what he wanted, you closed your eyes and opened your mouth, jerking him off until he came on your face with a low groan of your name on his lips. 

“You’re so beautiful, Princess.” He muttered in reverence, looking at your come-stained face and you distantly registered the fact that the car had stopped; you were home. “You’re mine, mine only. No one else will ever own you like I do.”

“No one else, Jeongguk.” You licked your lips, trying to taste the essence of him. “I’m yours only, and forever.” 

“Perfect.” He punctuated your statement with a kiss, before turning to get out of the car. You stopped him with a glare.

“What?”

“Where are you going?” He paused and looked at you like you had just said the most ridiculous thing in existence.

“I’m going to open your door for you so you can get out.” He explained slowly, and you chortled.

“No you’re not. I’m not walking out like this.” Your seemingly adamant statement made Jeongguk chuckle, a smug glint coming into his eyes. 

“I thought you were mine only and forever?”

“Well, actually-” 

“Nuh-uh-uh,” He stopped you, waggling a disapproving finger in your face, “I remember what you said, Princess.”

“Jeon Jeongguk, if you think I am getting out of this car with your dried come on my face you have got another think coming.”

“Oh, you don’t want to get out of the car?” He questioned with faux innocence, “That’s alright, I guess we could just stay in here and go for another round.”

“Jeongguk!” 

[myherowritings]

Paparazzi

— “[pro!baku x pro!reader where] they go on the date but paparazzi will not leave them alone due to the public being obsessed with their relationship...so they leave and bakugou takes her to his house instead where he cooks for her & they share a cute little kiss but paparazzi caught it through the window & it’s kinda aired everywhere. thank you!!” by anonymous

pairing: pro hero!bakugou x pro hero!reader word count: 1.9k genre: pro hero au, celeb au vibes, fluff

a/n: this was requested as a part two for slip of the tongue, but you don’t need to read anything prior to understand! it’s just our fav couple being frustrated at the paparazzi and taking matters into their own hands ;)

“You know, as glad as I am to finally go out with you, this isn’t exactly how I imagined our first date as a public couple would be.”

“Don’t worry,” he muttered, glaring at the glass doors. “I feel the same way.”

Another flash of light burst through the faintly tinted windows of the restaurant as you and Bakugou tried to enjoy the complimentary bread despite the annoying interruptions.

This was your first date with Ground Zero since the two of you made your relationship public (all thanks to Deku’s drunken congratulations post, mind you) and it was somehow even more chaotic than you could have ever imagined.

The minute the two of you arrived down the street, clusters of paparazzi were already stationed at each corner. For the most part, they kept their distance, but as the night grew older, their shamelessness only intensified.

“The press were never this bad before,” you said with a sigh.

“That’s because the entirety of Japan wasn’t obsessed with our relationship before.”

There was a deep scowl etched onto Katsuki’s face and you reached across the table to smooth the lines down with your thumb.

“Don’t be upset, hon,” you soothed, despite how frustrated you were yourself. Was a nice, peaceful date with your no-longer secret boyfriend really too much to ask for? “They’ll leave us alone soon enough.”

But even as you said that, you knew they wouldn’t. The paparazzi were relentless, some camping out for hours just for a chance at an exclusive, juicy shot.

“Ground Zero! Ground Zero!” a particularly bold man asked, voice muffled by the glass as he knocked on the window.

Katsuki’s eyes widened, looking around the restaurant frantically. “What the fuck? How is this allowed?!” But when the waitstaff continued to walk by, unperturbed, he began to grow more agitated. “Five stars my ass!”

Placing your hand atop his, you gave it a gentle squeeze, taking deep breaths as your patience thinned. “It’s fine. Just ignore them. We can ask to move tables and everything will be fine--”

“Y/H/N! Y/H/N! You and Red Riot were spotted at the beach last weekend looking very cozy! How does your boyfriend feel about that?”

“That’s it!” exclaimed Bakugou, slamming his palms on the edge of the table and standing up to stalk closer to the window. “One more peep out of your mouth and I’ll wring your--!”

You yelped, jumping out of your seat as you tugged on his arm. “Watch yourself, Ground Zero.”

Raising your eyebrows, you emphasized his hero name. As burdening as it was, citizens looked up to Pro Heroes… Including young, impressionable kids. You wanted to put the nosy paparazzi in place as much as he did, but you knew the story could be spun easily to make Bakugou look like the bad guy.

“Let’s just head somewhere else,” you coaxed, lacing your fingers through his as you dropped a wad of cash on the table. (What for? You weren’t sure. It had been fifteen minutes since you sat down and they still hadn’t taken your order. All you ate was a roll of free bread.)

He snorted, smoothing your hair down to let you know he wasn’t upset at you. “Fine. But if there’s one more interruption I swear I’ll--”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re a big and tough Pro Hero,” you teased. “You’d have them trembling in their shoes.”

“Damn right I would.”

Laughing as you exited through the back of the restaurant, you gave Bakugou a quick peck on the cheek, glad his mood was lifted even the slightest. You hated seeing him upset and you’d be damned if you were to let him lose control over some paparazzi.

Before anyone could catch sight of the two of you, Katsuki unlocked his black, tinted car, first opening the passenger’s side and waiting for you to enter before rushing to the driver’s seat.

You let out a sigh of relief when he pulled out of the area with no one on your trail.

“Where are we going now?” you asked over the quiet hum of the road. You knew Bakugou was looking forward to treating you out, and you hoped he wasn’t too frustrated from having to end the outing early.

He huffed. “Well since the restaurant date was ruined, I was thinking we can head to my place.”

You perked up, already liking the sound of that.

“I can cook something for us,” he said nonchalantly. “It’d probably taste better than the food from that place-- But we’ll never know for sure, will we?”

As his tone grew bitter, a small giggle escaped your lips at the sight of his pouty expression.

“No, I suppose we’ll never knew,” you agreed with an amused grin. “But maybe it happened for a reason? After all, I’ve been waiting years to try Ground Zero’s infamous cooking.”

Though your tone was playful, your words with sincere. You had been hearing stories of what a talented chef he was since Class 1-A went to the camping grounds, but you had never thought the day would come when your favorite Pro Hero would actually cook for you.

You could hardly contain your excitement, bouncing up and down in your seat as he drove closer to his house.

“We’re here,” announced Bakugou.

“Yay!” you cheered, following after him as he unlocked the front door.

You slipped your shoes off before entering his house, the interior looking just as spotless and neat as the last time you were over-- Not that you expected anything less than tidy from him.

Placing his hand on the small of your back, he lead you to his living room. “Here. You can sit down and watch some television while I cook you something.”

You started at the comfortable-looking couch before turning back to Katsuki and shaking your head.

“How about…” you trailed off, hoping the question you were about to ask wouldn’t seem as weird coming out of your mouth as it was in your head. “Would it be okay if I watched you in the kitchen instead?”

He glanced over at you in surprise.

“I-- Um… I want to see you cook. And maybe I can even help out!” you let out in one rushed breath.

A rare, rather embarrassed smile graced his features as he nodded nonchalantly. “I guess I wouldn’t mind.”

The two of you made your way to his well-lit kitchen near the front entrance of the house, Bakugou’s warm hand never leaving its place against the curve of your hip.

“What are you going to make?” you asked as he pulled away to get the ingredients from the refrigerator.

“Something I think you’ll really like,” was his vague reply.

You watched as he worked away in the kitchen, occasionally joining him to wash and chop some vegetables.

By the time he was done with the preparations and started the actual roasting and baking process, you were so entranced by his swift movements that you could hardly tear your gaze away.

“There,” Bakugou said in satisfaction, wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead with his toned forearm.

With his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the top, and his cufflinks rolled up to just below his elbows, it was a wonder how you kept your self-control around him for this long.

“We just have to wait for the timer to go off and the food should be all done.” He walked over to you as your cheered. “In the meanwhile, I’ll make some dessert to pair with the meal.”

You blinked. As good as dessert sounded, being able to finally pull Bakugou into an embrace and give him a much needed kiss sounded significantly better. It didn’t help that a small trail of sweat dribbled down the side of his face to his neck.

Since when were you turned on by sweat? you scolded yourself, shaking your head.

“You don’t need to make dessert-- You’ve done more than enough,” you said, drawing him closer when you wrapped your arms around his torso. “Just take a break before the food is ready.”

You expected the hardheaded Ground Zero to put up more of a fight, but he simply hugged you back with a sigh.  “Fine. But only because I want to. Not being you asked.”

With a knowing grin, you cooed, “Aw, Kirishima was right. You are whipped.”

He pulled back suddenly with a snort. “He said I’m what?”

“That you are whipped,” you emphasized, pausing after each word. You held your hands up in a ‘V’ to frame your chin and cheeks as you gave him your best innocent and cute smile. “Whipped for me, of course. In case it wasn’t obvious.”

Bakugou scoffed, rolling his eyes at your audacity despite the amused expression threatening to take over his face.

“Baka,” he muttered, ruffling the top of your head. “You’re shameless.”

You beamed. “Only because I’m whipped too,” you admitted as you extended your arms out. “Now, come here. I have a few ideas for dessert.”

You leaned in to give him a kiss, but he moved his head to the side.

“We can’t have dessert before dinner,” he said haughtily. “It’s bad luck.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Well, I’m willing to take that risk.”

You stuck your tongue out, making a face. Katsuki scoffed, making one back.

With a laugh, you draped your arms around the back of his neck as he tilted your chin up. Your lips met his surprisingly soft and supple ones as one of his hands made its way down to your hip. Feeling your back press against the cool surface of the refrigerator, you deepened the kiss.

Katsuki nipped at your lower lip, a gentle sting against your skin, before soothing it with the tip of his tongue.

“Dessert’s sweet,” he murmured against the kiss, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards.

“Not as sweet as you,” you teased. “Softie.”

A low growl escaped him as he lifted you up and rested your back on the edge of the kitchen counter, proving to you that Bakugou was, in fact, not a softie. (Well, he was. For you. But you were willing to let him have this win.)

The two of you kissed until dinner was ready, and then kissed again when dinner was done.

It wasn’t until the next morning when you woke up in his arms that you checked your phone for the first time since you came over to his house. Your lockscreen was filled with notifications and Bakugou stirred awake when you gasped at a certain news article Deku sent you through private messages.

The article was the top story trending across social media and it displayed a blown up image of you and Ground Zero intensely making out against the granite counter from last night. It was taken through the window of his kitchen and you mentally scolded yourselves for not being more careful.

Spotting the photograph from over your shoulder, Katsuki hummed behind you, a deep vibration you felt through his chest.

“I told you dessert before dinner was bad luck,” he said, voice raspy from just waking up.

You grinned sheepishly, kissing his cheek as a good morning greeting. “Worth it.”

a/n: HONESTLY I’M GRINNING AT THE CUTENESS THIS IS PROB ONE OF MY FAV BAKU FICS I’VE WRITTEN LOL (until like 2 hours later when i decide i hate it again) thank u for reading! xx

[lemonlushff-iy]

Read parts 1-3 here

One Last Ride - Part Four

Kagome picked up another smooth, small, flat rock and tossed it, skipping it down the creek behind the Takahashi's house. It only made two jumps this time. She hadn't realized she was as rusty as she clearly was.

Dinner had been a...strained affair. Inuyasha's father, Touga, had been a bit more receptive to her presence. Probably since both he and his eldest son, Sesshomaru, had known that she was around. Seeing her mash a bowl of potatoes in their kitchen probably didn't give them as big a shock as his mother seeing her hold two glasses of water.

Frankly, Sesshomaru had been practically giddy when they came in. Probably because he was excited to see how her presence would torment his brother.

The mashing was actually a perfect activity for her. It gave her a chance to take out some of her aggression about fucking Kikyo. And everything else. But especially Kikyo.

She was a good woman, huh?

Bull. Fucking. Shit.

What the hell made her a good woman? One good enough for Inuyasha? Was it because she was the history teacher at the highschool? Was it because she went to church every Sunday and led the children's service? Was it because she had been trying to suck his dick since they hit puberty?

She smashed the masher down so hard that she almost broke the glass bowl at the thought, causing everyone to shoot her an odd look. She smiled weakly and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, apologizing as they made jokes about she-hulk.

Her mind wouldn't shut up though..and Kagome quickly found herself thinking about Kikyo again. She was finally getting her chance, huh? Kikyo was finally getting her grubby little paws all over her Inuyasha.

Only...he wasn't hers...and she hadn't had a claim over him in years.

She had needed a moment to compose herself after that, and excused herself to use the bathroom. She stood over the sink, her arms braced on either side of the white porcelain as she just...opened her heart.

He had every right to move on.

He had every right to find happiness with someone else.

She just didn't think that it would hurt this much...but...he had been a huge part of her life for ten years. Since they were kids. She had been so stupid to think it wouldn't be this bad.

She felt tears gathering at her lashes, spilling over and down her cheeks as she heard his father tell Inuyasha to let her be. Great. Let's add that to the mix. They knew she was crying. Stupid dog demons and their sense of smell. She couldn't have one moment to gather herself together in privacy?

She quickly splashed some water onto her face and cheeks, trying to get rid of the most recent thing to completely humiliate her. She opened the door and ran smack into Inuyasha's chest, not expecting to see him there at all.

"Inuyasha?" she questioned, unable to look him in the eye, and she gasped when she felt his hand on her cheek. His thumb gently glided over her, feeling the cool residue of the water against her skin. The heat from his hand was soothing...and soul crushing all at the same time.

"You've been crying," he whispered, not bothering to beat around the bush.

"I'm fine," she dismissed, forcing herself to not turn her head into his palm and nuzzle his hand. His skin was so calloused now...but it felt so good. A working man's hands. Nothin like her ex "pet cat" Zach's hands.

"Hm…" he replied, searching her face before coming to a decision. "Kagome...Pops and Sessh are back. I can easily take you to your mom's and come by later with the car. If this is…" he sighed, lowering his hand from her cheek and running it through the fringe of his bangs. "If bein' here is too much or too hard, you don't hafta. It's pretty clear you've been avoiding...this the last seven years. You don't hafta stop now just 'cause fate made your car break down in front of our land."

"I think Ford made my car break down, not fate," she shrugged, and a smile tugged at his lips.

"You slandering a good American made car, Higurashi?"

"Or an anti-semite. Take your pick."

"You and your causes," he tsked. "They still make the best damn truck I've ever been in. Doesn't mean I gotta like the man."

"As I recall you don't like a lot of people."

His eyes filled with sorrow and he stuck his hands into his pockets, shrugging.

"Probably 'cause a lotta people don't like me."

"I did," she whispered softly, and he looked away from her.

"You always were the exception to the rule, Kagome. All of 'em."

"Inuyasha—"

"—Well? What do ya wanna do? Dinner or home, Kagome. No one is gonna twist your arm either way."

"I...I'll stay. I want to stay. If you're ok with it."

"'Course I am."

Now, she was skipping rocks in the stream waiting for Inuyasha to get a gallon of water together so they could go and check on the rental.

"Beena while since anyone skipped rocks out here," Inuyasha called, coming to stand beside her, jug of water in hand.

"No? You don't do this anymore?"

"Not since...not since you left," he replied hesitantly, dropping the water by their feet and picking up a rock, absently palming it as he looked out over the water. "I wonder if I even can still," he mused before wiping his arm back and flicking the rock forward. It bounced once before it sank and he let out a disappointed sound. "Guess not."

"Might have been a bad stone too, you know," she shrugged. "Why don't you try again?"

He gave her a wry smile but picked up another one, repeating the same movements as before and the rock sank.

"Ooff...Takahashi...how was that even worse than before?"

"Another bad fucking rock," he chuckled, but leaned down and grabbed a small handful, giving her one. "You think you can do better?"

"I know I can," she smirked, flicking her rock and getting two bounces out of it. She turned to face him, throwing her arms up into the air and doing a little victory dance.

"Oh yeah? That's how you wanna play this?"

"You better believe it," she crowed, and she watched as he wound his arm back like a pitcher before letting it loose. It bounced three times before sinking, and he shot her a smirk.

"Guess I'm just rusty," he shrugged, and she rolled her eyes.

"Don't get too cocky - you only did that the one time so far."

"Yeah? I bet I can do it again."

"Oh you do, do you?"

"Sure do," he smirked, tossing another rock, and it bounced three times again. "Man...this takes ya back, don't it?" he grinned. "Remember how we used to do this as kids?"

"We have a lot of good memories at this crick. Like the time you thought you could run away from home by walking through this thing to my house? All ten damn miles? Your dad tracked you down...what...twenty minutes after you showed up soaking wet?"

"I didn't want to do my chores," he shrugged.

"As good a reason as any," she conceded and he laughed, watching as she tossed another stone up the creek.

"What about the summer we were obsessed with pirates? And the one we learned about the gold rush?"

"Oh god, we were soaked all summer! Your mom was good humored about it all at least. Didn't mind us borrowing all of her pots and pans to go panning for gold."

"Is that what you remember?" he snorted. "'Cause I remember having my butt whooped and being made to wash alla them."

"No! She did?" she laughed. "Well...I guess I can't blame her. They would have been filthy."

"Filthy would be putting it lightly," he chuckled, tossing another rock. It bounced four times this time, and she applauded him.

"Alright Takahashi. Not bad."

"You bet your ass! That was pretty damn good! There's no way you can beat that."

"You think so?" she smiled, grabbing a few more and tossing one. Two bounces.

"See?"

"Yeah...well...that's because we're not betting on anything right now."

"So it takes a bag for warheads to make you really competitive?" he asked, raising a brow.

"Oh my...Yes! I forgot that's what we used to use! That's what those little sour candies were called! And then we'd separate them into colors, and the winner got first pick...which really meant all of the black ones?"

"You do remember!" he grinned, tossing a rock into the air once before swinging his arm and bouncing it three times.

"Of course I remember. God...what were the rules? Who ever got the most bounces out of twenty was the winner?"

"Sounds right," he nodded as she tossed one in. "Then we stopped playing for candy," he continued solemnly. "We started playing for kisses instead. Then we just...stopped playing."

"Inuyasha—"

"—Hey. Crazy thought. Let's play one more time. Best outta three. Winner...winner gets to ask a question and the loser has to answer it honestly."

"Sounds dangerous…"

"Less dangerous than when we used to play for kisses?"

"Depends on your definition of dangerous," she replied casually, palming the rock as she mulled his proposition over. She was nervous about what he might ask her. There was a cornucopia of sticky, awkward questions he could choose from...but she really wanted a few answers herself. "Fine," she finally decided. "You've got yourself a deal. But...No saving your question. You have to ask it now, deal?"

"Fair enough," he grinned, tossing the first rock, and she cringed when it bounced five times.

"I thought you were rusty?"

"Guess it's like riding a bike," he smirked. "Go on. It's your turn now, Kagome," he prodded and she silently swore.

Two bounces, and two more throws later, and she was the clear loser. She watched him do a small little victory lap around her, jumping up and down before coming to stand back by the gallon of water that sat forgotten by their feet.

"Alright, alright…" she chuckled. "Stop gloating and ask me your question," she prodded, crossing her arms over her chest.

She almost regretted saying it. All of the light drained from his eyes as soon as he was reminded of the question in his mind. He opened his mouth to ask, then snapped it shut, almost as if second guessing himself.

"What's your favorite color?" he finally asked, and she gaped at him, shocked.

"I...you know what my favorite color is, Inuyasha," she replied, her head tilting slightly to the side as her brows knit together.

"It's beena while. It coulda changed."

"It hasn't…It's still green..."

"Well then. Guess I know now. We should get over to that rental," he prodded, bending down to pick up the jug of water and lead her towards the truck in silence.

They both knew that wasn't what he had really wanted to ask...she just...she just wasn't sure if she wanted to pry. She closed the door as he started the ignition and buckled in, the jug of water in the flat bed behind them. Some new country song she couldn't identify immediately started blaring on the radio, and he stuck his arm out the window, tapping the side of the truck to the beat of the music.

Clearly, it wasn't new to him.

"Do you still like country?" she heard him ask after a minute. "Didn't even think to ask if this was fine. I know it's not as popular out in California."

"Would you stop saying California like that?"

"Like what? That's how I say California."

"No it's not," she insisted, shaking her head. "That's how you talk if you're about to vomit from bad cheese."

"Guess the real question should be why I ate bad cheese...and why you know what that sounds like. You eating bad cheese out in California?" he asked, over emphasising his disdain of the state as he spat the word out.

"No...I'm not eating bad cheese in California. It's just a state, same as anywhere else."

He slammed his foot on the break, making them shoot forward from inertia and she heard the jug of water smack into the side of the truck bed.

"California is not the same as anywhere else. Don't you dare say that, Higurashi. How can you say that, with all them city folk buying up our land to pretend they can be a rancher for the summer? They like the fantasy of who we are. Not the reality."

"But they're hiring peop—"

"—Do not try to defend them. You hear me? Don't you dare start with me, Higurashi."

"Ok," she whispered. It wasn't worth arguing over. She forgot how small minded he could be sometimes. How he could be so...wrapped up in this life that he didn't see the more global picture.

"Glad we're clear," he nodded, removing his foot from the break and back to the gas so the truck could slowly start accelerating again.

"So…" she began awkwardly after a moment. "You and Kikyo, huh?"

"Whatta 'bout it?"

"Nothing. Just... didn't seem that into her when we were younger."

"Didn't really see her back then."

"And you do now? When did that happen?"

He let out a deep sigh as her rental came into view, the setting sun washing over the silver and making it glow. Inuyasha put the car into park, turning off the engine and drummed his fingers against the wheel in thought.

"You really wanna have this conversation Kagome?" he finally asked, turning to shoot her an uncertain look.

"I'm curious," she shrugged weakly, failing at looking nonchalant. "Besides. You know all about Zach."

"So the pet cat has a name," he whistled. "Bet he's a pretty boy too. Those cat demons normally are. Lemme guess - green eyes? Blond hair? Perfectly quaffed wavy locks?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes. And we aren't together anymore anyways - we broke up a few weeks ago."

He blinked hard at her words as they seemed to roll around in his head.

"Now what did he do ta make ya end it with him?"

"Who says I ended it?" she snapped.

"Nothing. Just a gut feeling."

"Well I didn't so...so there!"

His face softened and he actually looked empathetic instead of like he was going to rip her throat out.

"Kagome...I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. I'm fine with it. We weren't meant to be, and it wasn't a good relationship. I mean, it was...but...it wasn't, you know?"

He nodded his head, silently gripping and relaxing his fingers around the wheel as he exhaled loudly.

"Still. I know how hard that is."

"Because of us?"

"You aren't the only woman I've ever dated, Kagome," he smiled wryly.

Why did that surprise her? It shouldn't.

"I know. You're with Kikyo now."

"I dated others before her too...and I think 'with' is a bit of a strong word."

"Then how would you describe it?"

"I'd describe it as none of your business."

She sighed and unbuckled her seatbelt, shaking her head as she moved to open the door. It was open only a crack before he reached over her and closed the door again. He cupped her cheek and turned her face to look at him, his face soft.

"Listen," he began with a long exhale, lowering his hand, "Kikyo 'n I are just talking. We've never even kissed. Hell, we've been on maybe two dates, depending on how ya look at it. And as for when I started to see her…" he paused and she watched him bite the inside of his lip before confessing. "Kagome, I never saw anyone other than you since the day you kissed me after I broke my arm. I was like a horse with blinders on. And then when you left...they stayed on for a real long time, until I just...woke up one day and they were finally off.

But, you don't...you don't get to be upset that there's a woman out there who likes me, got it? I offered you everything...and everything wasn't good enough for ya. It's good enough for someone else though, and you don't get to be upset over that, ok?"

She wanted to tell him it had been...She wanted to tell him that everything he had offered her was enough. She just hadn't been ready.

"And you don't get to be upset over who I date either," she replied instead, not wanting to pour salt on the still open wound.

He pursed his lips together and nodded his head in agreement.

"I don't. What's in the past should stay there...and we should both just...move on."

"Glad we agree," she replied tightly, reopening the door and he followed suit, walking around to the bed of the truck and pulling out the water jug. He made quick work of tending to her rental, pouring the water in and she pulled out the keys, hopping in and waiting for his signal to start it up.

"Why dontcha give it a go?" he prompted, and the engine rumbled to life again. He quickly closed the hood, backing away from the front and walking over to the side. "Sounds like ya should be fine. You got real lucky this time. Don't you start doubting Fords," he smiled weakly, and she returned it.

"I won't."

"Listen," he breathed slowly, nervously. "I...I just want you to take care of yourself. Ok?"

"This sounds a lot like goodbye again, Inuyasha," she mused, and he lowered his gaze.

"Aint it?"

Was it? Did she want it to be?

"I guess it is…" she whispered, glancing away from him. "Goodbye, Inuyasha. You take care of yourself too. I hope you're happy. Truely. With Kikyo or any of the others. You deserve to be."

She turned her head away from him and pulled her car out of park, shifting the gear into drive. She was about to step on the gas when she felt two clawed hands gently grab her face, pulling it out of the window.

She gasped and her eyes widened in surprise before closing when she felt his lips tenderly press against hers in a soft, lingering kiss before he pulled away. The feel of his lips against hers...it was just as she remembered it. Only she didn't remember this painful aching in her chest when they had kissed in the past...Or this horrible need to grab ahold of his neck to bury her face into his chest and just cry.

"Just wanted to do that one last time," he whispered just loud enough for her to hear, almost as if he were ashamed of himself. Of still wanting her. Of wanting what they once had. What they could have been.

It felt so final. Like they were finally closing the book, sealing it shut with glue, and tossing it into a fire so it could never be looked at again, let alone read.

She could only nod and whisper goodbye again before pulling away as twilight began to settle around them, heading down the road to her mother's...the feel of his lips on hers haunting her the whole way.

____________________

I’ve given up. This is me waving the white flag. But I don’t think I can keep doing daily posts...And I do want to have SOME stuff to post on White Day! And I hope you heathens are happy! I’ve been told this one didn’t hurt as much as the last....3 😬

Special thanks to @superpixie42 for helping me make sure Inuyasha’s dialect isn’t becoming too southern/Texan!

Wall of tags! Let me know if you want in or out!

(If you get tagged in this post after requesting tags, it’s because that’s how I’m keeping track of them. If you requested a tag and aren’t there, I might not have seen it so please ask again!)

@clearwillow, @keichanz, @dangerouspompadour, @nartista, @kaze-ranna, @superpixie42, @sticky-llama-perfection, @pinkpigeonstudio, @mcornilliac, @itzatakahashi, @zelink-inukag, @juliatheanimelover7, @csim28, @smmahamazing, @the-lucky-ones311, @cyncyn981, @animemomma96, @ayari17, @underwater0phelia, @sailorbabydoll92, @l-taisho29, @clearwillow, @animelove1313 

[nat-roman0ff]

iv. sex & candy, among other things

 series of blurbs // a certain time and place (read full series in my masterlist!)

 iv. sex & candy, among other things

the one where they almost say ‘i love you’.

wc: 3,214

warnings: cursing (but in a good way), smut (see title), & melted chocolate (gross).

---

She always does this, thing. Despite however many times he’s seen her naked (which Shawn counts at about 285 at this point) she still hides herself. He isn’t sure if it’s like, a confidence thing. Because he’s pretty sure she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. And not in that, facetune Instagram kind of way either. She doesn’t obsess over her hair or having the perfect winged eyeliner. She’s beautiful in the way her face lights up when she sees someone walking their dog, or seeing a cute baby despite absolutely hating children, or when she’s reaching for his belt (okay that last one was a bit of a stretch, but they’re both naked and who are we kidding, he’s hoping round two will happen once she wakes up). 

 Shawn begins by tracing her shoulder; he’s basically obsessed with the way that her skin prickles when he touches her, even when she’s asleep. His cheeks heat up when he reaches her neck, his fingers trailing over the purple marks from the night before. He’s sure he’s got a few on him as well. Neither of them had been exactly gentle last night. 

 “Stop doing that, it makes my nips get all hard,” she says, not bothering to open her eyes as a chill shivers down her spine. 

She feels the breath of Shawn’s laugh graze her neck, “maybe that was my intention,” he smirks, she can feel it against her skin when he kisses her there.

 She rolls closer to face him, “you’re gross,” she says, poking at the divet in his cheek.

 “You seem to like me enough.” 

 Her eyes roll, “only sometimes.” 

 Shawn cuts her off by giving her a kiss. It’s soft but so goddamn yearning, as if he hadn’t gone to town on her for hours and hours just a short time ago. It doesn’t take long for his mouth to open and their tongues to mingle. She hitches her leg over his hip and rolls him onto his back, straddling him. She breaks the kiss and sits back, allowing him to take in her full bare upper torso, her bottom half covered only by a tiny pair of lace underwear that sits dangerously low on her hips. 

 He resists the urge to fucking rip them off of her.

 She blushes while his hands take inventory of her body, starting at their resting point on her hips and moving slowly up her sides and back, moving to the front to give her breasts a firm squeeze then roaming the front of her soft stomach. She won’t make eye contact and he notices. Her hands do this weird thing where he can’t tell if she’s trying to stifle a cough or hide her face. She lets him see all of her but she won’t watch. 

 Shawn notices and he hates it. It’s the thing. He grabs the side of her face firmly and forces her to look at him.

 “Do you not feel good about yourself?” Shawn asks while the fingers of his free hand ghost her hip. 

 She scoffs, pushing away his hand from her face, “why would you fucking ask me that?”

 “You don’t have to be perfect,” He starts, and he already hates what he’s saying, “not that I think you aren’t or are. Fuck, this is all coming out so wrong,” he pulls at his curls “I’m just trying to say that if you’re insecure that’s okay. I’m not here to fix that but I want to know why and I want you to want to feel better about yourself. Regardless of what me or anyone else says or how we feel about you.” 

 She wasn’t insecure about her body - at least, not insecure more than the average girl. She had her bad hair days, or the zit from Hell that just doesn’t go away but she rarely felt unhappy with her looks. And she supposes she’s a very lucky person in that sense. She understood that her body was hers and hers alone, a vessel that gets you up and puts you down to sleep every day. That not all of them looked the same and she was never going to be the flawless model on the cover pages of the magazines she stole from her mother’s nightstand as a girl. She understood that her curves were her own, that her stomach rolled when she sat down and that was okay. It didn’t make her any more or less of a woman. 

 What she was insecure about were her feelings for Shawn. She knew if she had to watch the look in his eyes every time his hands covered her body in the most delicious way that she would absolutely lose it. Probably cry a little, scream, even. The two of them were so caught up in this not being a thing that it became a thing and the lack of answers and knowledge about the future was beginning to drive her batshit crazy.

 He looks for answers in her eyes but she won’t look at him. He’s thankful they’re in her bed instead of his, it’s smaller, so it forces them closer together when they cuddle at night. In fact, he can’t really remember the last time he spent a night in his own bed. At least a night in his own bed without her by his side.

 “You don’t have to be my anti-hero, Shawn. I know I’m not what you’re used to. I know this just is what it is for you. Just be you and don’t fucking complicate it by telling me I’m beautiful-” 

 “But you are,” he cuts off, sitting up, his chest flush with hers, “and you deserve to be told that you are.”

 She rolls her eyes again, “just shut up and fuck me already.”

 Shawn’s hands smooth up the side of her, “really fucking eloquent for someone who can’t look at me when I touch her.” 

 She tries to get off of him but he plants her across his lap, “we’re not doing this right now.” 

 “Then when are we?” He pleads, “when are we finally going to do this? Whatever the fuck this is in your mind.” 

 She doesn’t say anything and instead leans down slowly, letting her pert nipples skim across his chest, “I will literally fuck you until you shut up,” she whispers in his ear before biting and tugging on the lobe. 

 Shawn puts his hands behind his head, “go for it. You know how hard it is for me to shut up.” 

 She raises an eyebrow and crawls backwards a smidge, kissing his chest and working her way down his stomach, tongue swiping at the V that disappears under his boxers. Shawn prides himself on having an excellent poker face, and watches her with a cocky smirk. 

 “So what are your thoughts on this Communist Manifesto?” Shawn starts. 

 She’s not gentle when she rips Shawn’s boxers down his thighs. He’s only half hard, so she licks her palm and wraps her fingers gently around him. He twitches in her hand and she can see the heat rise in his cheeks and flow to his chest. 

 She pumps him slowly at first, getting her wrist into a rhythm that she knows will both torture Shawn, and also get him hard in like, thirty seconds flat. He takes in a deep breath and holds it when her lips slip over the tip of his cock.

 “When did you first figure out Albus Dumbledore was gay? For me, it was-” 

 He grunts and clears his throat, his voice a little higher pitched now, “ittttt-it-it,” he struggles, “was in Goblet of Fire.” 

 “That’s easy, knew it from Chamber of Secrets,” She licks the underside of his cock, tongue tracing the prominent vein that protrudes from it.

 Shawn’s a little uneasy now and she’s winning, but Shawn also isn’t a quitter. She lays out flat now between his legs, massaging his thigh with one hand as she uses the other to edge him. She’ll start and stop; twist, lick, anything unpredictable. Finally, she takes him fully in her mouth, gagging a little when he hits the back of her throat and Shawn swears he goes full stupid for a second. She’s so wet and warm around him he’s finding it hard to concentrate on anything else except maybe what her pussy is going to feel like later. 

 “You ever see a bat before? They’re really hideous. My sister got one stuck in her hair once when it was flying around the backyard.” 

 She pulls back up, releasing him with a pop. He’s fully hard know, his cock a pretty pink and wet with her spit. She can already feel her own wetness pooling between her thighs and she kisses soft little pecks into his thighs and back up his body.

 “You want my ass or my pussy?” 

 Shawn chokes. 

 “P-pussy?” He isn’t sure why he says it like a question. 

 She reaches over him and into the nightstand for a condom, “are we already out again?” 

 He just nods.

 She shrugs, “I’ll just let you finish on my face then.” 

 “You kiss your mother with that mouth?!?”

 She kisses the side of his face, “only on major holidays.” 

 Shawn grabs her hips, squeezing at the bare flesh and situates her back on top of him. She rubs her clothed center against his cock and it’s just the perfect fucking amount of friction that he’s pretty sure he’s going to bust if he doesn’t get inside of her right now. 

 He wraps his whole hand around the dainty fabric of her underwear and rips it completely off, tossing the fabric aside. 

 “Hey!” She slaps his arm, “Those were one of my favorite pairs!” 

 Shawn lines himself up with her, “you’ll get over it,” he says before slamming into her. 

 All the breath is knocked from her lungs and it takes her a moment to adjust to his size. She places her hands on his broad chest and starts to rock herself. Shawn loves the way she feels around him, so tight like she was made just for him, their bodies the perfect fit for one another. He’s felt that ever since the first night in the bathtub.

 “Fuck, Shawn,” She gasps, “I can’t tell, are we in a fight?” 

 He fucks up into her, loving the way his length disappears entirely inside of her, “now who’s the one who won’t shut up?” 

 “Fuck you.” 

 He grasps her hips so tightly she’s positive there will be marks in the morning, “already am.” 

 They find their pacing eventually, her on top and Shawn’s hands guiding her movements. She feels that familiar feeling start to sprout in her belly. It warms her veins and spreads so quickly she thinks she might pass out.

 Shawn swears he’s never seen something so brilliant in his life; her hair a mess, cheeks pink, body shining with sweat and her breasts bouncing with each thrust. She throws her head back, and he allows one of his hands to slide up her body and around her throat. He gives a gentle squeeze and she nods.

 “If you’re horNAY let’s do it, ride it, my pony,” Shawn sings at the top of his lungs. 

 She stops all movement, “are you really singing Pony while you’re inside me?”

 “I couldn’t think of anything to talk about and it’s too soon to cum.” 

 She rolls her eyes and she can feel him twitch inside her when she does, “so I win?”

 He sits up and nips her chin, “you’ll never win, Baby.”

 “You wanna bet?” 

 She pushes his chest and he falls back down onto the pillows, she leans forward with force, probably a little too much, and her hand goes straight through the wall behind the bed. 

 Shawn snorts, and she pulls her hand out of the wall, “well, I hope I get my security deposit back now.” 

 He plucks the pieces of drywall from his hair and tries to pull himself from her but she grabs his wrist in protest, “oh, we aren’t stopping!” She states. 

 “There’s nothing sexy about asbestos,” Shawn deadpans.

 She gets off of him and winces at the feeling of losing him between her thighs. It’s then that she notices the blood between her knuckles. It’s warm and falls down her wrist, mixing with the dusty powder from the drywall on her hand. 

 “Shit,” she mutters to herself, “I’ll be right back.” 

 She grabs a shirt from the floor and throws it over her head before scurrying to the bathroom, clenching her bleeding hand to her chest. She locks the door behind her and isn’t quite sure why. It doesn’t take long to clean up, it’s just a couple of minor cuts and she bandages them quickly. It isn’t until she looks up at herself in the bathroom mirror and sees the fading fingerprints of where Shawn’s hand was around her neck that she begins to cry. 

 It starts as sort of a bubbling, like a pot of water that foams and spits onto the burner just before spilling all the way over. She’s not always like this, but it happens most of the time after she’s with Shawn. The intimacy is the hardest part. She can be friends and banter with him until the cows come home, but it’s not until it’s three in the morning and they’re naked in her full size bed that he barely fits on that she just can’t fucking handle it. 

 Some days she thinks she should end it, to just be friends, whatever that meant to them at this point. She knows herself better than that though, she knows how badly her body, mind and soul crave him until the point where it physically hurts not to be around him, holding him, fucking him. She’s addicted, in a way. It’s exhilarating in some ways to never have an answer. It means it’s never quite tangible, there’s always something to chase after.

 She lets the tears fall and she knows Shawn will see right through her the second she gets back to him. It’s a feeble attempt, but she washes her face and dries her eyes and works up the courage to back back to the boy she wants to scream I love you to at the top of her lungs. 

 Something strikes her then; she could say it to him. There’s plenty of different types of love that exists in human existence. 

 “I love you, Shawn,” she says to herself in the mirror, her hands white knuckling the edge of the sink, “I. Love. You.” 

 Bile rises in her throat at the thought of his reaction. She doesn’t think she could stand it if he rejected her, which she knows is a very reasonable outcome. She just doesn’t fit into the big picture of his life, she was the friend with an empty bed and open arms every time he came home. She’s sure there were plenty of other girls in between her that Shawn didn’t talk about.

 When she returns from the bathroom, Shawn’s got his boxers back on he’s eating a chocolate bar. 

 “I have many questions for you. First, where’d your boner go?” She asks. 

 Shawn’s eyes pan to a discarded towel on the floor, “...don’t touch that.” 

 She grimaces, “you’re gross.” 

 “You were in the bathroom for like twenty minutes! It hurt!” 

 She rolls her eyes and his heart skips two beats in a row, “second question, where’d you get that chocolate?” 

 He takes a bite, “it was in the back pocket of my jeans, it’s a little melted though. Want some?” 

 She clears the room and jumps on the bed, taking a bite from his hand. He’s sitting up against the wall behind the bed, his feet still dangling off the bottom edge of the mattress. She curls into him and he wraps an arm around her, “why were you crying?” He asks, kissing the top of her head.

 She hides her face in his shirt, “my hand hurts.”

 “I once watched you literally get hit by a moving car and you got up and said ‘all good mate’, a bloody hand doesn’t make you cry. What’s wrong? Did I do something?” 

 She shakes her head.

 His fingers trace where his fingers held her throat, “was it the choking? We don’t have to do that next time, I just thought-” 

 “No you can choke me anytime.” 

 Shawn snorts and she side eyes him, “I’m just thinking too much lately.” 

 He raises an eye, “oh? About what?” 

 She shrugs, “I don’t know...maybe getting in a relationship would be nice. Maybe it’d be nice to be choked by only one person in my life.” 

 “Who the fuck else is choking you?” 

 She glares, “no one, Shawn. That’s the point.” 

 His mind is blanking. Shawn always thought he was good at reading people. The two of them had always been blunt to each other about everything; there were no lines to read between, no double meanings. This was the first time in the entirety of their friendship that Shawn didn’t know what she was talking about. 

 “What do you mean?” 

 She pulls away from him and rolls over to face away from him, “nothing, never mind.” 

 “Do you - do you not want to do this anymore?” He asks, “if there’s someone and you want to be with them I want that for you. I just want you happiest.” 

 With me, he thinks. 

 She rolls over, “no, there’s no one, Shawn. It was just a stray thought in my stupid after sex girl brain. It’s called hormones.” 

 Her heart races, and she thinks that now is the perfect time. The perfect time to grab his big stupid face and look him in those honey eyes and tell him everything she’s wanted to tell him since the first time they met. 

 Shawn’s heart breaks a little thinking of her with someone else. He’s sure that comment had a second meaning and gets a surge of jealousy that weakens his bones at that thought of someone else holding her like he does. 

 She’s here though, in bed with him, fucking him, wearing his teeshirt. That has to mean something for now, that for now she’s his but not really. That whoever this mystery person is, is just a fleeting thought in the here and now and he is the here and now. 

 This is his chance, he thinks. This is that moment when the walls are down and it’s time to lay it all out on the table. Shawn tugs at the sleeve of her teeshirt and rolls her over onto her back so he can get a look at her. 

 “What?” She asks, pinching his chin between her thumb and forefinger. 

 He moves her hand to his chest, his heart beating beneath it so rapidly and harshly he can hear the way the blood surges through his veins. His breath comes in short gasps. It’s her turn to take his hand and press it to her chest. 

 Their misguided hearts beat in synchrony beneath each other’s palms, but neither have the gall to say the words that are on the tips of both their tongues. 

[kenjiro-s]

After the storm, before the flood

Gaku x Doman

Spoilers, I guess ? If you know who Doman is, it’s not a spoiler. Purely headcanon based.

 The noise was too much. Gaku knew it was a wedding, knew it was his brother’s wedding, but they were all simply too loud. The moment he’d seen Koga actually try to outdrink Ginnojo, he knew he had to get some air.

  Walking through the dark hallway, he stopped when he saw a flash of deep crimson where he specifically knew there wasn’t supposed to be anything in that colour. Ah. Weddings were happy events for almost everyone, weren’t they. Almost. He paused and then, because he had to do something, he carefully placed the saucer with his big cup of still hot tea by the door and after a short thought took down one of the candles on the wall to light it. Better. That was all he could do. Only time could heal some things.

  Outside, the forest was both silent and buzzing with life. Quiet life he could feel bubbling right beneath the surface. It was still a bit suspicious when it came to Yura but that was slowly changing. Progress took time.

 Climbing on the stone wall, he allowed the full moon to colour the world in silver and ink, and sort his thoughts.

 In the end, nothing had been resolved. Not really. Kurahashi had escaped, not even a trace left, and who knew when he would be back to finish his plan ? The man’s Jorōgumo was still around, having suffered no consequences, and while the wraiths had dispersed, there was still evil right under the skin. In was simply human nature.

 What was not human nature, on the other hand…

- If my brother sees you here, it will ruin his year. – Not even a sound beside him but he knew the strange blend of earth and fully other energy the Onmiyoji carried.

-You know my opinion when it comes to your brother.

- Don’t … - When no response came, he turned to look. The man beside him was…a stranger. Gaku blinked in momentary confusion. After a heartbeat, he shook his head. Why was he even surprised ? He and Yura had never been human, to begin with, so eternal life had just come naturally. Doman hadn't had that luxury. Still, he had to be sure. – Who are you ?

 A soft smile graced the man’s lips. Leaning back to look at the bright night sky, draped in midnight purples and silver, long hair swaying gently in the currents, he was more beautiful than anything Gaku had ever seen. But that still wasn’t answering his question.

- You know who I am. – He turned to him. Pale yellow eyes, two little braids, several earrings. Straps of black around his neck and down his chest…And a fan. He’d been right. - You don’t look surprised.

- Yura mentioned Futaba had met you. That you would demand everything from her in exchange for a little help. – Doman propped a foot on the wall, leaning his chin on his knee.

- Your brother’s opinion of me isn’t very high, is it ? – Gaku waited for a second but it obviously hadn’t been a rhetorical question. Just almost childish curiously. Like Yura had no reason to dislike him.

- Can you blame him ?

- Can you blame me ? I warned him. – Doman was obviously getting upset. It was almost amazing how he could recognise the expression on a completely different face.

- It wasn’t his fault. – The other man narrowed his eyes.

- Wasn’t it ? The only reason he’s not here right now is because he managed to force that girl to marry him.

- Watch your tongue. He’s still my brother…

- I warned him. – Now he was being loomed over. Arms crossed, Doman was almost pleading. Gaku sighed and let the change to flow through him. Doman took half a step back. – You told him. – He opened his mouth to say something but the other man shook his head, long hair dripping down his shoulder and chest. – No, listen. I was there. I know you did. I know you tried to make him see what he was doing. And yet he kept clinging ? He’s sick and instead of looking for ways to get better, he sank his claws even deeper.

- Your solution was horrible. – Doman took another half step back, shrugging and squaring his shoulders.

- He had to see what kind of monster he was. That was the easiest way to do it. You think if I do it again, to her, he will see reason ? Second time's the charm ? – Gaku rubbed his face. Doman wasn't serious, he knew he wasn't, but what a mess. What an absolute mess. – If you think I regret it…I only regret your pain right after it bounced back to you. That was uncalled for. Everything else ? He got in my way and I refused to allow someone to try and get between...

- You cast the curse like that. And drop the act. You're not the cackling crazed stalker you're trying to make yourself so stop being such a drama queen. – The other man shook his head and, unless he was mistaken, was getting close to pouting.

- It’s a hex, not the fury of the Old Ones. Everything has a time limit. I thought he would have seen reason for a thousand years. I was wrong. And now he has another obsession. - Doman…smiled. It was the same soft smile from a few minutes ago only…brighter. – You’re free.

- Do you think I can just forgive and forget ? – Doman flicked the fan open with a dismissive wave of one hand.

- I would never ask you for that. I know you might think otherwise, but I am within my right mind. I know how the world works. You being safe is all that matters. – And then he turned back to the forest, obviously leaving. Gaku raised his eyebrows. He would just go ?

- It’s good to see some things never change. – Doman paused, back still to him. – You’ve always been so dramatic. Come here. - A soft rustle of hair as the other man shook his head. – Doman.

- There are rules that need to be followed. Absolution…

- Doman. – That cut the monologue right off. – Are you going to make me ask ?

vA light snort, and then he turned. The movement was so distinctly and smoothly inhuman he had to hide a smile. He would figure out what he’d done to live so long but for now…

 With him still sitting on the wall, his face was above Doman’s. The other man stopped right in front of him, a challenge in his light eyes and his arms loose by his body.

Gaku shook his head. Reaching over, slowly, he tangled a hand in that long, long, long hair and tugged. Doman gave no resistance. Pressing their foreheads together, he tried to read his eyes.

- You going to just look at me ? – Another challenge.

 Some things never changed, indeed.

  There, under the pale moon and dark forest, with the celebrations still colouring the air, he pressed their lips together. A thousand years had been way too long and he couldn’t wait another minute more.

 Doman's skin was cool and smooth, and so was his hair. A millennium. A dozen lifetimes. A small eternity, all those without…

 He pressed harder. Pulled back. Those beautiful, beautiful eyes, so close to his, tried to read his mind and soul, and he allowed himself to smile. And dive back.

 And this time…

 Doman surrendered without a fight. The moment Gaku pecked his lips, asking for permission, the other man relaxed. It was… so familiar. His fingers slid from Doman's hair, both hands cupping his face, and he kept going. Doman tasted like the past, like a lifetime ago, like the air after rain and the Spring twilight. He was still careful, still not pushing, still following. Gaku tugged on his hair again. He was not a youth anymore.

 Hands curved up his hips and behind his knees. And paused. A question. Because for all his lack of morals and inhumane views, he had never been once to force. There was always a question and the option for refusal. Gaku dropped his hands on his shoulders and used the leverage to drop from the wall. And that was the permission Doman had needed.

 Back pressed tight to the wall, the moon above them and the wedding music locked on the other side, there was nothing else that mattered.

 He had waited too long. Way too long. And Doman was wearing too many layers of clothing.

- Take it off. - A low, choked laugh he felt more than heard. - I'm serious, take it off. From all the times you could have dressed up, you had to choose the one nobody would care…

 His sentence was cut off because Doman tugged him by the hips away from the wall to pull off his tunic.

- You're one to talk. - He was getting divested of his clothes way too fast compared to Doman and he had to change that.

- My brother's getting married. You came only for me. - Doman paused, eyes wide. Gaku tried to rewind and figure out what he'd said. - What ?

- Okay, first. - He was left cold when Doman stepped back to unlace the intricate hooks and buttons of his own kimono. - Please, never mention your brother while we are in any state of undress. - Gaku reached up slowly and then lightly flicked him on the forehead. The half a second delay between that and his flinch was more than adorable. And something he'd been doing even back when he'd been fully human. - And second...You are absolutely right. - He smiled like a cat with a whole birdhouse of canaries. - I only come for you.

 Gaku blinked. And again. And once more.

- You… - He was interrupted, again, by Doman dropping all his clothes at once, ending wearing only his porcelain - white skin and elegantly draped hair as accessories. His own clothes, on the other hand, were getting tight. He'd never been one for flowery words and poetic speeches, no matter how much the vision in front of him made him want to be. He didn't have the heart to speak of beauty and grace, not in a way to make justice to what he was seeing right now. So he didn't even try. There was no need. Doman knew him, after all. In every way possible.

 He simply slid his fingers along the smooth line of his shoulder and then down. The flowing layered clothes and the curves defined by his hair made him look deceptively slim. He wasn't.

 He was still a bit boney, even in his old body he had never been a big and wide man. But he was an adult now, frame packed with lean muscle and strength obvious in every little detail.

 Down his chest and then around his waist. Reaching with his other hand, too, he pet up his spine. And the hand resting on the small of his back went down.

 Doman gave off a choked breathy laugh and came closer, flush against him once more.

- How very indecent, Gaku. How very… - Doman's long fingers dipped below the edge of the shirt he'd been wearing under his tunic and around him. - Sinful.

 It was dragging and careful, and he really wasn't in the mood for that. Doman was still being deliberately slow, asking without words for permission before every single touch, and Gaku reached the conclusion it was up to him to set the pace. So he dropped both hands and...gave a squeeze. Just a little, but Doman startled and he felt the other man's breath hiccup in the chest pressed to his. Good.

- I am not some delicate flower, Doman. No need to tiptoe.

- I am not hurting you again.

- Doman…

- No.

 Gaku pushed him away enough to be able to see his face.

- It's not the same. Look, I'm fine…

- You weren't a few days ago. - Well. What could he say to that ?

- Lie down. - Doman paused in the middle of what he really hoped wasn't a search for his clothes.

- What ? - Gaku nodded towards the soft grass.

- Down. On your back. Or front. I want to see your face but we can do that next time. - Doman looked like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. If he had pearls, he would be clutching them. In the lull, Gaku shrugged his shirt off and took his shoes off. Doman had been barefoot. - Doman.

 The suspicion the other man leaned to pick his kimono and spread it on the damp grass would be insulting if the situation was different. For now, Gaku waited. Doman had always been a bit odd when it came to intimacy and he had to take that into consideration.

 And then he was sitting, knees up and in front of his chest, hair down and obviously trying to hide behind it.

Gaku dropped heavily on his knees, feeling the unyielding ground refuse to cushion his fall, and carded a hand through the moonlit strands. Doman pressed his cheek to his palm in silent... emotion and Gaku sighed.

- Here… - Rising on his knees again, he leaned to kiss. Doman's lashes dropped but his lips were soft and when Gaku licked, asking for permission, the other man met him halfway. Letting his head to drop back, Doman leaned on his hands and gave him more space.

 Now almost looming over him, Gaku slowly touched him behind the knee, mirroring the question from earlier. Doman's breath paused and he could feel every little twitch and tremble. He stopped, pressing their cheeks together. Asking.

- This is only one of the million reasons it's always been you. - Barely words against his ear and then Doman fell gracefully on his back. Gaku could only drink him in for a heartbeat. Or three. - You going to do something ?

 He was back in his head. Good. Now between his legs, he went down, and down...until they were eye to eye again.

 Gaku held his gaze for a moment before dropping his eyes to his pale neck and shoulders. Much, much better. Pressing a little kiss to the curve of muscle there, he stopped...And then bit down. Just a little. Not enough to bruise, not enough to leave teeth marks or even little pink stamps of his presence. He wasn't like that. Some things ran in the family, he and Yura were made of the same tree, after all, but he had never been one for marks. Not on him and definitely not to be the one leaving them. The very thought of being that possessive repulsed him.

  But he still enjoyed skin and flesh under his teeth.

  Fingers in his hair and suddenly it dropped free down his shoulders and Doman’s chest.

- Pretty. – He felt the low laugh under his lips. – You’ve always been so…

  Gaku didn’t allow his to finish. One hand going down his ribs, he carefully curved his fingers around him and Doman lost his words. And breath. Gaku pushed himself up on his other hand, still touching him, and gazed down. Doman’s pale eyes seemed to try to focus on every feature on his face at the same time, a small frown marring his lips. He was looking for an answer and for the first time since they’d met all those lifetimes ago, Gaku didn’t know the question.

- Doman ? – No response. The other man frowned even harder, obviously not finding what he’d been looking for and Gaku was getting worried. – Doman, what’s…

The hand not in his hair pushed at his chest. Not a forceful move by any means, but Gaku took his hands off and sat back on his heels. And waited. Living with his brother had made him an expert of waiting things out until a better time came. Throughout all the centuries he had lived, though, he had never imagined he would use that skill with Doman.

 Who seemed to be almost confused. Gaku shuffled further, ending crosslegged on the damp grass, and kept his silence. In the quiet of the forest, Doman managed to find his pants and seemed to be calming down now that he wasn’t fully naked. Dropping on the other side of the fabric, he mirrored Gaku’s pose and met his gaze.

- Better ? – He just reached up to pull out a couple of pins from his hair, letting the two braids slowly loosen up. The result was lopsided, hair on one side curling in tight waves and on the other – still as straight as an arrow.

- What are you trying to achieve ? – The night was growing cold but Gaku wasn’t about to pull his shirt on. Doman was still upset and obviously didn’t share his principles because he’d already pulled the first layer of his intricate outfit on and crossed his arms for warmth. Or…something else. His question, on the other hand…

- What do you mean ?

- You being like that. The curse is gone, you and yours are free to live your lives to the fullest.

- When have I been nice to someone just to get something ? – Doman was…Gaku frowned. Doman’s long slim fingers were tangled in the tips of his pretty hair and were rubbing the pale violet strands with the kind of distracted precision one reached when doing something fully unconsciously. Tics and obsessions. Doman had never been one for those. True, he’s been awkward when they’d been young but nothing like this.

 And the more the silence dragged, the more aggressively he ran his fingers through his hair. One hand only, the other was holding his clothes closed at the chest. And his eyes were not moving from Gaku’s face.

- You hate me for what I did to your brother.

- Listen, I don’t know where this is coming from but I want you to drop it. Forget…what happened. It all ended well, we’re fine and all. Just, drop it.

- You don’t hate me for what I did to you, but what I did to your precious big brother cannot be forgotten. Or forgiven. A thousand years of suffering and you along with him, and now you touch me like you mean it ? – The wide-eyed expression slipped from his face, leaving a pretty smile that looked sharp enough to cut glass. – How very sacrificial of you. How noble. – He sat on his heels, attire finally buttoned, buckled and laced up, and smoothed the hair falling like a waterfall over one shoulder. – Would you have let me in your body, too, so I would be distracted or satisfied and not go after the happy couple ? Hm ?

 He let the silence drag. Doman had never done well with silences and apparently, and time hadn’t fixed that.

 - You done ? – The smile wilted around the edges though Doman was quick to catch himself. – For the last time, and I am being serious, it is the last time, I am not going to forget what you did to Yura. To both of us. But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy to see you or touch you or kiss you. Get it ? It just means introductions will be awkward. That’s all.

 - What about my absolution ? My redemption ? How would you live with yourself if you allowed your life to brush against mine ?

 - Well, we can’t really change the past so how about we work on the future ? Sounds good, right ? Also, - And here, he had to sigh and hide behind his own fringe for a moment. – if you don’t feel ready for intimacy of any kind, tell me. Or just push me away. Show me how you really feel. – He waved at the sitting figure that was both a step and a half, and a whole ocean away. – I’m not going to push or force you or be disappointed or anything.

 - And here is another reason it has always been you.

 - Hm ? – But Doman was already standing up, every piece of fabric on its place and every little earring – where it belonged. – Doman…

 A hand reaching over. Gaku shook his head and then accepted. The other man pulled him up and smiled. It was the same soft little curl of lips he’d given him when he’d first appeared who knew how long ago.

- Can I kiss you ? – For once, he wanted to make it formal. To make it clear he was merely asking and he would honour the choice no matter what.

- No. – And then Doman was stepping closer, and… And then his chin was raised just so and Doman was pressing their lips together.

 Gaku kept his hands to himself though he tilted his head, feeling his own hair down his bare torso, and when Doman opened his lips to let him taste, he followed. And again. And again. Touch, such simple touch, but with this being their only point of contact the rest of his senses were shutting down, leaving only pleasure.

 After…indefinite amount of time, Doman pulled back, expression once more without a smile. There was no need to ask what was about to happen. Gaku could read a situation.

- You stay safe, alright ? – And then, with a distinct lack of dramatics, Doman disappeared and Gaku was left following the quick shape of his familiar slither through the tall grass before fully disappearing in the forest.

 Progress was a slow thing, he considered while walking back. His shirt was buttoned, his tunic was pristine and everything was dry. Like he had never seen him again. He did his best not to sigh. It was Yura’s night and he had to be happy for his brother.

 - That was a sneaky one. – He turned, slowly, to where Koga was grinning at him. Gaku raised his eyebrows in a question. – Who was that guy anyway ? Don’t think I’ve seen him around.

 Well. Koga’s smile was almost always friendly and now was no exception. The only time it hadn’t been…that one time he’d threatened Yura with his hand casually on his sword, Gaku wouldn’t be forgetting that one soon, that was for sure. But now he looked genuine.

- It was…

- Some Onmiyoji guy who slinks around the forest. – Talk about unexpected. They both turned to Kuya who paused mid-yawn to blink at them. – What ?

- You…know him ? – Because it couldn’t have been that simple, could it ?

- No. Obviously. – Kuya looked between them and sighed, apparently accepting they would make him participate in the conversation. – He just is at places sometimes.

- He is at places sometimes ? – A shrug.

- Why do you care ? If you want to meet him, just tell him or something. Not that difficult. Especially since you didn’t have a problem using your mouth in his presence five minutes ago.

 Koga’s smile was a bit strained. Gaku, on the other hand, really wasn’t sure what kind of an expression he was making but it couldn’t have been natural. A few seconds of silence later he opened his mouth to say…to defend himself, maybe ? But before he could put the words in order, something caught his eye.

 But of course. The only excuse he had for not noticing earlier was because he’d gotten used to thinking of them as their previous lives and this was obviously not the case here. Or, at least not based on Kuya’s very much untucked shirt and Koga’s missing fine ornaments Gaku had definitely seen on his clothes during the ceremony.

 - Must be the mood of the event, I guess, since apparently I wasn’t the only one not having problems using my mouth.

 Koga’s smile was cracking at the edges and, unless he was mistaken, the man was actually turning red from the collar up. Kuya blinked at him, raised his eyebrows at Koga, shook his head and grabbed his…lover by the sleeve, pulling him to a dark hallway. Mildly interesting but not all surprising.

 Him ending alone again made him think back to what Doman had said. To stay safe. That had sounded suspiciously like a goodbye and Gaku was definitely not about to allow that. A millennium apart, he wasn’t going to just sit and wait for another to pass before they met again. And since Kuya had seen him, and obviously noted his habits, it wouldn’t be difficult to hunt him down. Doman was one of the most powerful Onmiyoji ever lived but Gaku had his own nature at his side. And pure stubbornness.

 And a piece of paper in his pocket. What…?

 The tunic was new and he had been sure there was nothing on or in it that he hadn’t put there when he’d gotten dressed for the ceremony, so what was that ?

 The paper unfolded in a square roughly the size of a small napkin. Gaku sighed, barely resisting the urge to find a void to scream at. Was it too much to ask for one contact without the addition of drama ?

 He knew it was impossible, Doman hadn’t really changed that much in a thousand years, but to leave instructions in his pocket for a very, very, very simple transportation charm, written on a music sheet in purple ink… There were even little curves and dots sprinkled around his already flowery handwriting.

  In its core, the spell’s use was clear – write something on paper the size of the one he was holding, wave above it and murmur three words. And it would find its way to a very specific altar. And that was it. The sigil in the corner was the twin altar, meaning anything could appear on it at any time. Doman was so…himself. Gaku folded it and nodded at Kuya who had come back and was piling his plate with food and then headed for his own quarters. Better to place the sigil now because from all he knew of the other man’s character, he wouldn’t put it past him to do something flashy to disturb the celebration.

 Still. A millennium later. A whole dozen of lifetimes. Now was time for one more.

[jaybeartodd]

The Darkest of Times Pt. 3 -- Jason Todd x fem. reader

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Warnings: cursing, mentions of very mild violence

Story tags: @janybaby @luna-san3 @idontlikepamts @tiniowl @nicunt

Permanent tags: @korindrs @alohabucky @sarcasmismyfirstlove @mad-hatter-has-nothing-on-me @russian-potatoes

A/N: So I am going to do something crazy... I am posting two parts in one night!! I just wasn’t satisfied with this one and so skipped to the next one and ended up finishing it last night. Today, I edited this one and voila. Hope you guys enjoy :)

Only one day had passed before your masked friend showed up again in your bunker.

“What are you doing here? Who did you piss off this time? Do you have information on Anthony? You can’t possibly have more supplies?” you bombard him as he steps off the ladder. He gently grabs your shoulders.

“I am here to take you up on your dinner offer. Many but I currently none are chasing me. Sorry no. And nope I have spoiled you too much,” he answers each question and lets you go. You blink at him thoroughly surprised.

“How is the leg?” he asks gesturing towards your bandage. 

“It is doing okay, just a little sore,” you reply and gesture awkwardly, “Would you like to sit or something?” 

He smiles underneath the helmet at the light blush dusting your cheeks while you are mentally cursing yourself for it.  You find yourself yearning to see what he looks like. To hear the taunting voice in its natural state. But not nearly enough to ask him to show you.

“Um, so I was going to make Easy Mac?” you admit shamefaced and bite your lip.

“I definitely gave you more impressive meals than that, Y/N,” he acknowledges crossing his arms clearly amused.

“Yes, well, unfortunately I am not the greatest cook. Wait,” You shoot an inquisitive look at him as he parts for the kitchen, “How do you know my name?”

“I did my research,” he confesses nonchalantly. You shake your head in confusion as he starts to pull things from the small freezer you had stuffed full with the food he gave you.

“What are you doing?”

‘We are going to cook us a decent dinner.” he answers coolly and tosses something to you. You fumble but manage to catch the bagged cheese.

“Now, how do you feel about pizza?” you laugh at his absurd idea of a decent dinner.

“I think pizza would be fantastic.” you smile widely at a man who has literally killed people bounce up with an armful of ingredients preparing to make pizza.

“So,” you start nervously as he begins setting stuff down next to the stove.

“Yes?” he turns towards you curiously.

“Did you put a hole in the helmet to feed yourself through or are you just going to creepily watch me eat? Wait, do you not eat at all?” your eyes grow wide at the thought. He chuckles deeply.

“Actually, none of the above. I just wear this damn thing so much I forget it’s there.” he sighs looking at you, “And I suppose you already know my name so no hurt in knowing my face too.” He reaches behind his neck and presses something to release the helmet.  

You hold your breath as he slowly removes it. The first thing you notice is his hair. It is a deep black. Like the black you see the first second after lights are turned out. The only exception being a white streak that weaves its way down through the matted hair on his forehead not quite reaching his eyes. 

You inhale a sharp intake of breath when you notice a J shaped scar across his cheek. Your hand reaches towards it instinctively and sharp blue eyes track the movement cautiously. He snatches your hand before you can touch it, breaking your trance. In the deep blue you discern a rooted pain and fear that were hidden by the mask. You immediately drop your hand and look down. He clears his throat and grips the edge of the stove tightly.

“Well, shit.” you exclaim and he turns back towards you with an apologetic look, “I was really hoping you would be super ugly underneath the robot head.”

An amazingly charming smile graces his lips as the tension dissolves from the room. 

“So what you are saying is that I am a total babe,” he deduces nodding his head. His voice is smooth and silvery in comparison to the robot you are used to hearing. You could definitely get used to its sound. He winks at you fueling your red cheeks 

“Never said that,” you protest. He pulls out a bowl and starts pouring ingredients onto it. 

“I am pretty sure that is exactly what you said.” he declares laughing while reaching over you to grab something. 

“Well you aren’t too hideous, I suppose,” you admit sarcastically with a roll of your eyes. Not even a little bit.

After cheese ‘mysteriously’ ending up in your hair and tomato sauce not so accidentally smeared on Jay’s face, you finally end up with a decent looking pizza.

“Ah-ha!” you cheer twirling with the pan. Jason leans against the wall watching as you celebrate your victory.

“I cooked, Pete! Look!” You brag and shove the plate in your cat’s face. He returns with an uninterested meow but you do not let this curb your enthusiasm.

“Can we eat it now? You know, before it becomes collateral damage to your celebratory dance,” Jay bemuses but is secretly becoming greedy in earning your excitement. 

“Yes, okay, I think I am finished.” you announce a bit out of breath and feel your leg seriously revolting.

He sits on the edge of your bed. You lounge behind him with your wounded leg stretched out and your other one curled up so that it is holding your plate in place on your lap. 

You eat in silence and you find your eyes drawn back to his face. Your tongue is itching to inquire about the scar but as shown earlier, he wouldn’t be too thrilled with the idea. 

“Why are you still here?” he pipes up and you shake yourself from your stupor.

“In Gotham, you mean?” you ask and he hums as he chews another bite.

“Well, it is kind of embarrassing actually,” you admit chuckling nervously. He turns his face and flashes you a roguish smirk.

“You? Never!” he jokes and you punch his arm, “Pray do tell.”

“The first memory I have of the event is the absolute chaos as students rushed away from the campus screaming,” you pause to in reaction to the unpleasant image and miss the remorseful look that shoots across his face, ”I was about to get on a bus when I remembered Pete.”

The devil himself jumps onto the bed in response to his name. You lightly pet him.

“Wait, you risked your life for a cat?” Jay interrupts baffled.

“No, not exactly. I mean, yes, but there were so many buses transporting kids that I wasn’t too worried about missing this one. But when I rushed to my apartment and grabbed him an explosion went off. Everything after that is pretty fuzzy and all I remember is Anthony reaching out a hand and dragging me to safety. The buses were spooked and transportation was cut off entirely. We were with some other students that had missed the buses but eventually they were found by family and escaped with them. There is no one to come for Anthony and me. Then it became too dangerous to be above ground and Anthony knew about this place so voila.” you gesture unenthusiastically. Jay looks at you with pity and a hint of something you can’t quite distinguish.

“Uh, yeah so what about you?” you distract yourself with another bite of pizza.

“I am righting a wrong,” he answers cryptically looking off absentmindedly. Is this guy for real?

“Seriously? Should we compare lengths of information given for a second?” He smiles at you but instead of answering he points to the other bed with his pizza slice.

“So how do you know Anthony?” 

“He was in a class with me our freshman year. We hit it off and became on and off again friends. We didn’t become that close until this whole debacle.” you wave your finger around. He nods his head seemingly satisfied with the answer.

“Okay, since you know all about me, can I ask a few questions?” he analyzes you cautiously before slowly nodding.

“This one is really personal so I understand if I receive another mysterious Yoda answer,” you warn. 

He snorts and raises his eyebrows, “You are such a nerd. Hit me.”

“What is your favorite color?” you articulate in the same serious tone. His face lights up as he gives another hearty laugh. You relish in the sound untouched by a voice modulator. 

“A fan of red, I am,” he answers and you let out a laugh completely taken by surprise. He finds himself grinning widely at you as your head tilts back and your cackling noises become more contagious. He really thought he had lost this part of himself in the Lazarus Pit but you tempted him to think differently. 

You play twenty questions with him for the rest of the night finding out random details about each other. You even learn about his odd obsession with “Pride and Prejudice” which, inevitably, turned into a playful argument about who is more like Elizabeth Bennett. 

Eventually, you shoot up a hand to stifle a yawn but it doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“We should probably call it a night,” he announces and you rub your tired eyes.

“Wimping out on me?” you tease with a lazy grin.

“Sure, let’s go with that.” he laughs and stands up to make his exit. He reaches down and grabs his helmet. He glances at you once more and you give a sleepy grin.

“I will be back tomorrow night,” he promises and you feel your heart skip slightly, “Just don’t go throw yourself into a burning building or jump off a bridge for a cat, please.”

You narrow your eyes and he flashes his smirk before putting on his helmet. 

Jay visits every night for the next week and a half. You learn a lot about each other, well at least, he learns a lot about you and he teaches you surprisingly good recipes so you don’t have to resort to microwaveable or quick.

And you are not going to even try and deny it; you look forward to his nightly visits. No offense to Pete but he is not exactly the most vocal company and you don’t remember being this happy while talking to Anthony. Most of the time it was about how doomed you were.

“Yeah, he really couldn’t have been an ogre underneath that helmet?” you sigh to Pete not exactly too keen on the feelings you are developing for the smug brute. Tonight, you decide on surprising him with your newfound cooking abilities. After working hard in the kitchen with no major fires, you display the product on the counter satisfyingly and wait for him. 

Hours pass with no sign of him leaving you slightly discouraged. You put the food away awhile back. A storm booms overhead matching the mood and you are left with only the sound of thunder and water dripping from the ceiling into buckets you strategically placed. Worry starts to prick at the back of the mind but you are mostly just angry. Angry at yourself for looking forward to this. For relying on this.

Once 2 a.m. rolls around you decide to give up and go to sleep. The storm still rages on outside and you are lulled asleep by it. The next morning you wake up half expecting him to be groveling at your feet but it remains as empty as it was when you fell asleep.

The next week pass the same way and your leg injury is mostly a distant memory. Every day that passes you become more disgruntled at being locked in the bunker doing nothing and stupid for ever thinking you could rely on Jay. This is why you decide tomorrow you are going to make your way to the Iceberg Lounge. If Jay isn’t going to help you out then you will do it yourself.

“Y/N, wake up,” someone hisses at your bedside. Your immediate response is to grab the knife you keep hidden underneath your mattress. You swing the knife up blindly and a hands catches your wrist. Instinct kicks in and you push against them only to lose your balance as well. Suddenly, you are both rolling on the floor in the pitch black while strings of curses follow closely behind You land on top of them and bring the knife onto their neck. 

“Y/N, dammit, it’s me!” they shout and you finally make out a glint from a helmet.

“Jay?” you sit up and he removes his helmet. You can barely distinguish his face in the darkness. 

“Yes, now please. Get off of me,” he commands through gritted teeth. You realize you are still sitting on him and shoot up.

“Let me turn a light on,” you fumble in the darkness until you reach the light switch. They flicker until the bunker is finally illuminated. Your attention is brought back down to Jay who is still laying on the floor. You blink at the blood spattering his uniform as well as the light bruises dotting his face.

“Wow, did you run yourself over with your own car?” you inquire sarcastically while rushing to his side.

“Ha-ha,” he spits with a spiteful glare in your direction. He sits up grabbing his stomach and groaning in pain.

“I will go get a medical kit,” you suggest digging underneath your bed for the one you have been using for your leg.

“Good idea,” he responds and winces again. You sit back down at his side with bandages and cold compresses in hand.

“Y/N?” he asks slightly irritated as you hesitate.

“What happened?” you demand. 

“Jeezes, Y/N, not now,” he swears. You just raise your eyebrows. You are sick of the lies and hidden motives. You want to know who you are saving.

“Fine. It was a family squabble. There was an explosion and I got trapped underneath some of the rubble. You happy?” he spills and you stare wide-eyed at him. Okay, so maybe you didn’t want to know everything.

You gently place the compress on the bruises on his face to reduce the swelling and he raises a hand to hold it in place. You glance down and notice his abdomen wet with blood. You grab at the armor uselessly. 

“How the hell do you take this thing off?” you ask flustered. 

“They usually make me dinner first,” he chuckles and grimaces when the laugh sends pain shooting through his body.

“Yeah, I did but you missed it,” you grumble and his face falls. You finally find straps to unhook and the armor falls so that it hangs loosely overtop of his shirt underneath. You toss it aside and gently lift up his shirt revealing several gashes. 

“Ugh,” you utter involuntarily. Jay snorts at this.

“Not the usual reaction I get.”

You ignore him and start cleaning out his wounds. He is amazingly still as you bandage him up. You examine the rest of the body and see he has a gash in his leg as well.

“You want to take my pants off next?” he wiggles his eyebrows from underneath the ice pack suggestively. You make a face at him but you do notice he is looking much more comfortable.

“Or I can spare us all and lift your pant leg,” you assert and carefully roll his pant leg up.

“Are you going to tell me about the family squabble?” you ask ripping another sterilized pad with your teeth.

“Nope.” You wind the bandage around his leg frustrated.

“Y/N,” you continue wrapping ignoring him, “Y/N!” You meet his eyes angrily.

“I know I am being an asshole but I really don’t want to drag you into this,” he says softly. 

“So you were stuck underneath that rubble for a week?” you inquire drily.  His guilt-ridden face reveals all.

“That’s what I thought,” you sigh and stand up.

“Y/N, I-”

“You can crash here. Use Anthony’s bed, it isn’t like he is returning anytime soon.” He can hear the loneliness and hurt behind your words. 

“Would you please just listen to me?”

“Oh, sweet, now you want to talk? Where have you been?” you spin on your heel and cross your arms over your chest. He stands up mildly groaning in pain.

“I can’t tell you that,” he whispers and you scoff.

“No, of course not,” you mutter and reach for the light switch, “Get some sleep. And then we are officially even. You helped me, I helped you. No need to come back.”

Your words come out steady after days of turning your sorrow into resentment out of self-preservation. You flick the lights off.

The next morning you wake up to find the other bed empty. You can’t quite tell if you are relieved or disappointed. You rub your sleepy eyes and saunter into the kitchen to make Pete his breakfast. Your eye catches a note next to a phone.

“If you need me, I am only a call away.” you set down the paper and glare at the phone. 

Anyways, you have bigger things to concentrate on. Today, you are going to get some answers as to where Anthony is. 

[rosalindsutton]

flying lessons | ritz

rosie gives fitz his first flying lesson. it goes alright mostly. 

Fitz had been looking forward to flying with Rosie since they'd first talked about it. When she'd offered to try this weekend, he'd been over the moon. He couldn't wait to get up in the air again. It had been far too long since he'd last been on a broom. He knew it was probably a bad idea and it would be dangerous but he didn't really care that much. He just wanted to learn and he was certain if anyone could teach him it would be Rosie. She had a fair amount of patience. He apparated to the place she'd picked out and looked around for her.

Rosalind was quite certain this was one of her worst ideas yet. She should have just kept pushing it off until it just didn't happen. If he got her, she would blame herself, and it would be awful. She had already gone over many ideas and plans, but she was still nervous. She got there before he did, stretching and practicing. She flew around a bit, working on doing that and using spells at the same time, just in case she needed one. When Fitz came, she landed, smiling over at him. "Are you excited?"

Fitz brightened up when he saw Rosalind land. "I am so excited! I can't believe I'm going to get back up in the air again!" he grinned. He couldn't believe she'd actually agreed to this, really, but he wasn't going to mention it. He wanted so badly to try and fly again and he didn't want her to change her mind. "May I see your broom? What model do you have?" he asked, his grin never once wavering in the slightest.

Rosalind couldn't help but smile at how excited he was. He would be bouncing off the walls if they weren't outside. "I can tell," she laughed. She handed her broom over, nodding a bit. "This one is a Bluebottle," she said, letting him look it over. "It's pretty safe," she admitted. She had another one at home, but this felt like the better option for this particular scenario.

Fitz took her broom and held it carefully. He turned it over in his hands a few times before inspecting the bristles on it. It was a quality broom, one he'd probably own if he knew how to fly it. "It's a good broom. Very sturdy," he commented. He ran a hand over it and then smiled at her as he gave it back. "It is a safe one. I'm not surprised you chose it for today," he teased.

Rosalind watched as he looked over her broom. He was cute. Very interested, too. She wasn't surprised. He loved all things quidditch, including the brooms people used for all kinds of flying. It was endearing. "It is sturdy," she agreed. She laughed a bit and nodded. "I thought it was a good starting point," she said simply. "Do you need something for your head or anything?"

Fitz smiled brightly at her when she laughed. He liked that sound and he liked the look of it on her face. "It is. It's safe and reliable. It's a good choice," he grinned. He looked around the area a bit and smiled again. "No, I don't think so. I'll be fine. You'll be teaching me," he smiled. "Can we go up now? Or are you going to run through safety rules with me?" he teased.

Rosalind wasn't so sure he should be so confident in her teaching him, but she figured it was better than him doubting her. "Yeah, we can go up now. I'm pretty confident you know all the safety rules at this point," she teased back. "First I'm going to fly, and you're going to ride, and I'm going to show you how I do it. And then I'll let you fly and I'll ride, and make sure we don't die."

Fitz nodded enthusiastically. He could recite the safety rules in English and French. He'd heard them more times than he could count. "I can. I know what to do and what not to do. Promise." He nodded a bit and stepped closer to her. "Okay. I'll just hold onto you. I promise I won't fall off. I won't let go," he promised. He chuckled a bit. "I appreciate you looking out for the both of us."

Rosalind had no doubts about that. Not only was he a Quidditch writer, but he'd been obsessed with flying and had tried to have people teach him. She expected him to know all about it. "Please don't let go or fall off," she said with a nervous smile. She nodded a bit. She was happy to look out for them. Plus, she really didn't want them to get hurt. She got on, letting him get on behind her. "Hold on super tight."

Fitz had no intentions of letting go. He also didn't plan on falling off but he couldn't exactly promise that he wouldn't so he simply smiled and nodded at her. "I'll be good," he said solemnly. He hoped he didn't disappoint her. He watched her mount the broom and moved to get on behind her. He moved to hold onto her and smiled. "I'm ready. Let's fly!" He couldn't wait.

Rosalind held onto the broom, lifting up with ease. She felt so nervous, and she really had no reason to. She was an excellent flyer, and she trusted herself. Even if something went wrong, she had a few backup measures she could take to protect them. She still was slightly nervous. "When was the last time you were on a broom like this?" she asked curiously.

Fitz felt the broom start to rise and he leaned over to look down as they went higher and higher. He nearly leaned too far but corrected himself quickly. He hoped she hadn't noticed. "Oh, well," he thought for a moment. "I don't know. It's been a few years." He didn't want to say he'd fallen off the broom so he decided to gloss over it. "It wasn't nearly as fun as this," he grinned.

Rosalind noticed the way he moved a bit, but didn't worry about it too much just yet. If he moved too much when they got higher up, she'd just bring the broom back down. "That's a shame," she said honestly. She wasn't exactly sure how this was any more or less fun than any other time flying must have been, but she appreciated the compliment. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," she said with a small laugh.

Fitz readjusted his grip on her, holding on just a tad bit more loosely than he had been while still being secure. "It is. I don't think it was very memorable, to be honest." He closed his eyes for a moment and let the sun wash over his face. He could feel the wind in his hair and he felt such a sense of peace. "I'm definitely enjoying myself. This is incredible. You are incredible," he told her.

Rosalind could feel him relax a bit behind her. He was so sweet. He was like the sun; warm and bright and lovely. She smiled fondly, letting out a small laugh. "Thank you. I'm glad you're having so much fun," she said honestly. She turned carefully, leaning a bit. She tried to take it easy, not going to fast, not doing too much difficult movement, just sort of moving along. "Do you think you could stand to try soon?"

Fitz was surprised to find just how much he liked her laugh. He'd always been fond of it but lately there was things about her that drew him in. He still wasn't sure what was happening but he wasn't against it. In fact, he really liked it. "I'm having a blast," he promised. He laughed when they turned, finding the whole thing rather seamless. She was an exceptional flyer. "Could I stand it? I'd be thrilled to!"

Rosalind wondered what it was about flying that he loved so much. She knew the general appeal to flying. And she had always loved it. But he seemed to love it even more than the average wizard. Maybe it was the very fact that he hadn't done it much. "I'm glad," she laughed. She was a bit nervous about letting him take control, but she slowly lowered them to the ground. She got off, letting him move forward. "Just, take it easy, and be slow. And if you need my help, tell me."

Fitz felt a twinge of sadness when she lowered them but he knew he was about to be the one in control. He couldn't wait. He nodded as she spoke and moved forward on the broom to the proper place. "I know, easy and slow. Nice and steady. Don't get too excited," he chuckled. He'd be repeating that in his mind as he flew. "I've got this, Rosie. You can trust me. I won't mess up."

Rosalind got on the broom behind him, moving her hands around his waist. She made sure she could reach out and take control if she needed to, but she was hoping she wouldn't. "Don't get too excited," she agreed, smiling a little. "Okay. I'm trusting you," she said, though she felt a bit nervous. She was very alert, making sure she could keep them safe if something did happen.

Fitz tried to calm down a bit. Being overexcited would result in him probably sending them both crashing to the ground. If he was on the broom alone, he wouldn't mind it much but since her life was in his hands he had to be extra careful. He was actually a little nervous. "I can do this. I promise you," he told her. He started to raise them in the air and grinned. "I'm flying!" he said brightly.

Rosalind could tell he was nervous, which made her more nervous. It was also good, though. It meant he was aware of the trust and power she was placing in him. Definitely better than overconfidence. "I believe you," she smiled. She grinned wider when he raised the broom off the ground. "Try to stay low," she instructed him. "Ease slowly into turns, and use your body when you do. You're doing a great job."

Fitz didn't want to stay low. He wanted to soar. He wanted so badly to fly high above the ground at a fast speed but he knew he'd just scare her if he tried and they'd both end up taking quite the fall. He didn't want that. "Okay," he agreed reluctantly. He didn't raise them very high but he started moving forward, turning slowly as he did. "Look at me go!" he grinned. "I'm really flying."

Rosalind raised an eyebrow slightly at his reluctance. He must have been a handful as a teenager. "You're doing a great job! You're flying all on your own. Very smooth and controlled," she complimented, leaning against him a bit more. She didn't let her guard down, but she did let herself relax a bit. "You can go just a bit higher, but make it a slow transition, otherwise we'll topple," she laughed.

Fitz brightened at her compliments. No one had ever said he was doing a good job at flying before. He almost couldn't believe that he'd heard the words. "Really?" he asked. "Am I really? I can't wait to tell everyone!" he grinned. He nodded a bit and slowly started to bring them a bit higher. He let out a joyful laugh and started to turn them in slow circles. "Look at this! Look at me! I'm flying!"

Rosalind laughed a little at his amazement. He was as excited as every Hogwarts student learning for the first time. It was like she was with him when he was younger, expect of course, she hadn't known him then. "Don't brag too much or they might ask to see," she teased. She held onto him a bit tighter. She admittedly didn't like riding. "You're doing good. Keep focus," she reminded him.

Fitz thought he'd like to show everyone that he knew how to fly now. He probably wouldn't be able to fly much without Rosie and with people watching but he'd like to give it a try. Sometime. "Maybe I'll be able to demonstrate for them sometime. Probably not soon," he chuckled. He noticed her holding onto him tighter and lowered the broom a little bit. "I'm focused! I promise," he grinned.

Rosalind had to admit, people would be pretty impressed if he was really known to be as terrible as he said he was. "I'm sure you'll have a chance before you know it," she said honestly. She appreciated that he lowered it a little without her having to ask. "You're doing so well. Are you sure you're as bad as you said you were?" she teased.

Fitz hoped she was right. He wanted to show off to everyone. He'd been known for years as a terrible flyer. It had haunted him, but he'd learned to adjust his life accordingly. "I can't wait," he grinned. He let out a chuckle and did another circle in the air. "I'm sure. I have the scars to prove it. This is the longest I've ever been in the air. I think it's because I'm afraid of you getting hurt so I'm being extra careful."

Rosalind thought that was sort of cute. She realized he wasn't actually being cute, but it felt cute, and it made her heart flutter a little. He didn't want her to get hurt. He was being careful to keep her safe. Aw. "Well, I very much so appreciate your efforts to keep me from getting hurt," she said with a small laugh. "Do you wanna keep doing this for a while longer?"

Fitz smiled even though she couldn't see it. "I wouldn't do anything to hurt you. So I'm on my best behavior up here." If he was flying alone, he was certain he would have taken a few tumbles to the ground by now. Maybe all he needed all this time to learn was Rosie. What a thought. "Yeah! Can we? I don't want to land yet. I'm beating my record of longest flight with every second!"

Rosalind found that even cuter than his previous sentence. He was making her a little stressed, but in a good way. "I appreciate it," she said honestly. She nodded, though he couldn't see it. "Absolutely. I'm free all day, remember? You can enjoy yourself some more," she smiled. She leaned into him a bit, letting him fly more. "Next time we can do more."

Fitz grinned when she leaned into him more. He was having so much fun with her. This was one of those things he'd remember for the rest of his life. He'd never forget this day. "Good. I want to stay up here as long as we can. Even if we're not very far off the ground," he teased. "What do you mean do more? Can I go higher? And faster?" he asked.

Rosalind thought it was endearing how much he wanted to fly. She understood it, but it was quite endearing. He was so happy, it was lovely to see. She liked making people happy, but she especially liked making him happy. "You're really enjoying yourself up here. I have to admit, I'm quite glad," she promised. She laughed a little and nodded. "Yeah. Higher. Faster. Over time," she added.

Fitz couldn't imagine not being happy in the air. He figured people took it for granted but he never would. He'd spent too many years stuck watching other people fly to not be over the moon to be able to do it himself. "I am. This is the happiest I've been in a long time, and I think I'm generally a pretty happy person," he smiled. "Over time," he agreed reluctantly.

Rosalind felt like he was a pretty happy person, at least from what she'd seen, and he did seem happier than usual. Maybe that was made her enjoy his happiness so much, the very fact that he usually was happy. He was very cute. "I'm glad I could be a part of this day then," she smiled. She was glad he was okay with taking it slow, even if he maybe wasn't thrilled with it.

Fitz was glad she was a part of it too. He'd had a lot of people try to teach him to fly and not one had been successful. Until her. She'd been the first to actually get him up in the air for more than a minute or two. He was actually turning in circles! "Me too. I really appreciate you. I'm taking you out for the best dinner tonight," he told her. "And dessert too! You definitely get a dessert."

Rosalind smiled fondly. She knew that he had helped him do something he'd always wanted to do, and that was why he was so happy, but it still made her feel all tingly and special when he said he appreciated her. "I'm happy I could help," he said honestly. She laughed a bit. "If you're positive. I'll always take dessert," she said playfully. She hadn't really been out with him properly. It was always between work.

Fitz started to lower the broom a bit more until he could put his feet on the ground. He didn't really want to get off but he also didn't think he'd get to go much higher today and he thought maybe, if Rosie was in control, she'd let them go up a bit more. "You helped a lot! And you definitely deserve a dessert for that," he grinned. "Do you want to take control now? I don't think you like just riding along much," he chuckled.

Rosalind felt bad for him that he hadn't ever really been given a chance to fly before. Flying was one of the most magical things and he hadn't even been able to experience it much. "Maybe one day you can fly all on your own on your very own broom," she smiled. She laughed a bit, letting her feet rest on the ground again. "I can take control if you'd like me to. I, admittedly, don't ride along much anymore, but it's not terrible."

Fitz thought that sounded magical. And he knew his whole life was magical but flying on his own? Something every witch and wizard learned at a young age? That was magic. "I don't know if that'll ever happen. Sim won't allow it. She worries about me. I'm all she has, you know?" he smiled. He let his feet rest and nodded, adjusting position. "Fly away with me, fair Rosalind."

Rosalind laughed a bit when he said Simone wouldn't let him. But she understood, she did. "If you know how to fly well, then she won't need to worry," she said with a soft smile. She readjusted, getting in front of him to lift off. "Hold on tight, Fitz," she said, holding onto the broom as she lifted them into the air. "How much flying have you done on other people's brooms?" she asked curiously, trying to gauge how well he'd do if she went faster.

Fitz didn't think it was that simple. Simone worried. That was her thing. She never stopped worrying. She'd always been that way. "You know Simone. She worries about me when I have both feet on the ground," he admitted. He adjusted and moved to wrap this arms around her tightly. "You're very fit," he said without thinking. It was probably inappropriate. "Not a lot. I usually fall. I've done some but never for this long," he admitted.

Rosalind thought that made sense, but she also thought Simone could come around. Nearly every wizard flew and very few serious injuries were serious. "I still think we could convince her, over time," she said with a small smile. She felt flustered at his comment and laughed a little. "Thanks. You are too," she said absentmindedly. She felt all flushed and embarrassed. She was glad he moved past it. "I'll make sure you don't fall," she promised, moving them higher and faster.

Fitz chuckled lowly and wondered if she could feel it where she was pressed against his back. He was so acutely aware of her every movement against him. He could feel her breathing as she leaned into the turns. It was hard to concentrate. "Oh, thank you," he mumbled, distracted. He caught the scent of her hair and tightened his grip on her, ducking his head slightly to brush his lips against her neck.

Rosalind felt butterflies flutter all through her body and lost her focus for a moment. For a moment, she caught a glimpse of his mind, and she nearly fell off all together. Their broom fell a bit before she gained concentration and caught herself again. "Fuck," she whispered, lowering them to the ground. She couldn't quite process what had just happened, but she knew she shouldn't be flying. She probably shouldn't have been flying just now when he called her fit. "I don't think I should be flying right now, I'm sorry," she said, trying to be polite and professional and not all flustered like she was.

Fitz noticed the room start to falter and held onto her tighter. He was prepared to roll them so he could break their fall if they completely lost control. Once they were back on solid ground he got off the broom and offered her a hand to help her off. "It's okay. It's my fault. Though maybe you shouldn't peek into people's minds without consent first," he winked. "We'll call it a draw."

Rosalind was all warm, and she wondered if he could tell. She nearly told him it was very much so his fault, and she didn't know what the fuck he was doing, but then he spoke and she blushed like I mad. "I didn't mean to," she said honestly, losing her focus even more. "You distracted me a lot," she said. She was never flying with him again. "Do you do this to all the girls who try to teach you how to fly? Because if you do, that's most definitely why you haven't had any luck so far."

Fitz grinned at her when she blushed. She was adorable. He felt it lighting up his features in a slow and easy way. "You looked. It's not my fault you knew what I was thinking," he reminded her. "So it's not really all my fault that you were distracted. I'll happily take the blame though. Can we go up again?" he asked brightly. "No, I don't make a habit of kissing the neck of girls I'm flying with. I also don't make a habit of flying with pretty girls. The point is to not be distracted."

Rosalind scoffed at him, giving him a look. "That kiss was enough to have thrown me off, so I think it's still your fault!" she exclaimed. "I don't mess up, okay?" she said, a touch of seriousness in her voice. She wasn't someone who messed up. She laughed a little and shook her head. "Not right now. I'm not going to be responsible for you getting injured," she said honestly. If they went back up right now, she wasn't sure she could do a good job. She wanted to tell him to stop when he called her pretty. She was going to have a heart attack. "Oh, Merlin. We'll just have to do this later."

Fitz shrugged innocently. "You smelled good, it threw me off. So, essentially, it's still your fault," he teased. "Everyone messes up, Rosie. C'est la vie." He thought she was cute all flustered like this and it made him want to kiss her for real this time. "I promise I'll keep my thoughts strictly on flying if you keep yours out of my head," he pouted but he decided not to push it. He smirked at her a bit and took a step closer, brushing the hair out of her face. "Am I making you nervous, Rosie?" he asked, his tone light and teasing. He let his hand rest on her neck and tilted his head a bit to the side.

Rosalind felt all fluttery. She ached a little. She thought she might actually fall over. "You're ridiculous," she said instead, not thinking she could come up with better words. "I do not mess up. I can't afford to mess up," she said, raising an eyebrow. She blushed again, running her hand through her hair. "I'll take you flying again, but just not today," she said honestly. When he touched her again and stepped closer, she felt a tightness in her chest. "Yes," she said quietly, swallowing hard.

Fitz raised an eyebrow at her with a smile. "Am I?" he asked. "I think I'm starting to believe you now," he teased. He shrugged a bit. "Everyone messes up. No one really is always perfect," he told her. He watched her carefully for a moment or two and thought. "Not today. But soon?" he asked hopefully. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said, dropping his hand and stepping back again. "Did you want to get lunch still? Or have you had enough of me for one day?"

Rosalind gave him a look, raising an eyebrow. "And you didn't believe me before?" she asked. She was starting to think he didn't want to learn to fly that badly. She shook her head. She was perfect. She was always perfect. She put in a lot of effort to make sure she was always perfect. "Soon enough," she promised. She frowned slightly. Hadn't he known he was making her nervous? Wasn't it clear? She relaxed when he stepped away. "Do you still want to get lunch?"

Fitz shrugged a bit. "I mean, I think I've always known. It's an adjective thrown around about me a lot," he admitted. It didn't bother him though. He liked being different. He liked standing out. He was his own person and he was proud of that. "Okay, soon enough," he agreed. He smiled when she repeated the question before letting out a deep chuckle. "I asked you first, Rosie. You can't throw it back to me. I ask the questions here." He really hadn't known he made her nervous. The fact that she'd almost lost control of the broom had been a shock to his system. She was the most in control person he knew.

Rosalind gave him a look. "I've never called you ridiculous before," she said. She didn't think that was fair. Maybe he didn't want to hang around with her anymore today. If that were the case, she sure as fuck didn't want to make him hang out with her more. "If you still want to get lunch, I still want to get lunch. If you don't, I can go home and eat lunch myself," she explained.

Fitz chuckled quietly. "Not you but many people have. It's probably the second most used adjective to describe me. It's at least top three. Annoying is up there, too," he smiled. He chuckled at her again and gave a fond shake of his head. "Oh, Rosie. Of course I want to eat lunch with you. I offered it in the first place, didn't I? Want to check my mind to make sure?" he teased. "Where shall we go?"

Rosalind didn't think he was annoying. She didn't know what he hadn't believed before. She nearly told him she didn't think he was annoying, but she didn't want to look any stupider than she already did. She laughed and shoved him. "I take that back, I don't want to get lunch with you anymore," she said lightly. But she was too much of a mess right now to probably be able to stand being around him for another hour or so. "Since I fucked up and you had to stop flying, we'll call it even, and you don't to buy me any food. Sound good?"

Fitz frowned slightly when she said she didn't want to get lunch with him after all. He was disappointed as he'd been looking forward to it and it had been his way of thanking her for taking him flying. She'd had him up in the air for far longer than anyone else ever had. He wouldn't push her, though. He just pushed the disappointment down. "It's not your fault we had to stop but I understand," he said with a smile.

Rosalind had to disagree with him there. It was definitely partly her fault. She didn't really feel like today had been the greatest success, so she didn't feel she particularly deserved the lunch. But next time she'd do better and then they could. "Next time I'll do a better job teaching you and then I'll deserve that lunch. We can do it next time," she promised. She just didn't think she could handle it right now, honestly. He was just too much. She was so overwhelmed by him.

Fitz didn't really want to say goodbye to her just yet. He was having such a good time even if they weren't in the air anymore. He was worried that the little peek into his thoughts had scared her off and now she didn't really want to spend time with him anymore. "You did a wonderful job," he promised. "I'll just, ah, be going then. Thank you again for today. I had a lovely time." If only he'd been able to keep his thoughts to himself.

Rosalind smiled at him and nodded. "You did a wonderful job, too. I think you're a much better flyer than you and others have given you credit for," she promised. "Maybe we can fly again next weekend," she added. "Of course. I had fun, too," she said with a small smile. She felt so silly, but she couldn't help it. She already felt so flustered around him, today had only exaggerated that.

Fitz tended to disagree with that. He wasn't a good flyer by any means, she'd just been an exceptional teacher. No one else had ever had the level of patience that she'd had with him. Until he'd messed it up the way that he had. "If you say so," he smiled instead. "Maybe we can. Thank you again, Rosie," he added. He thought about giving her a hug but decided against it because he wasn't sure. "I'll see you." He walked a few steps away and apparated home.

Rosalind smiled and nodded again. "Of course. It was my pleasure," she said honestly. "I'll see you probably at Nik's bar soon," she said with a smile. When he left she let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. Merlin, he was overwhelming.

[swanandapirate]

Seatimes (1/2)

Happy (belated) birthday to @villains-happy-ending! You were my first fandom friend, Aimee, the first one to welcome me to this crazy nook of the internet and you were the one that introduced me to a lot of people people that are nowadays extremely big parts of my life too. So for all of that, and because you’re such an amazing person in general, I’ve written you a little (cough cough) birthday gift. (Prepare for a lot of nautical puns)

A Podcast AU (inspired by an actual podcast I came across a couple of days ago) where Emma gets obsessed with Killian’s maritime podcast Seatimes and of course life finds a way to make their paths cross

~4,600 words

ff.net

(The italic bits are little fragments of Killian’s podcast. Non-italics are Emma’s pov)

She stumbled upon Seatimes as she was researching a case. The skip was a selfish, misogynistic prick that wore Lacoste polos tied around his neck, a $200-dollar salmon-colored shirt, and a pair of shoes that was probably worth twice, if not thrice, the amount of money his shirt cost. He got thrown into holding for embezzlement of his own company’s funds, owned an actual boat and still ran away from every attempt made to make him settle up; he kept and kept on refusing to pay his bail. And so, Emma was brought into the picture.

Following his movements, both real life and online, like a hawk, Emma came to the conclusion that the rich, embezzling jackass was in search of someone to cheat on his wife with. He wasn’t even trying to be coy about his search for a mistress. Every picture on the account he had set up on some sleazy dating site were either of his precious boat or of him bare-chested and holding in his stomach on his precious boat.

Not a lot more backstory was needed to figure out the way to crack this case. Emma had to become the woman of all women to him. The one that, unlike all the rest of womankind according to him, had knowledge of boats and how currents worked, and all of that and not to forget a pretty face and nice figure. Luck would have it that Mother Nature and a lot of exercise had granted Emma the latter but the former… not so much.

She sadly– not very sadly if it meant staying clear of Mr. Douchebag– belonged to the general, uninteresting part of her gender, so she was forced to gain a life worth of knowledge in a short period of time. Three days to be more exact, because her skip had agreed to a date in four. Three days to become an expert.

“Welcome to Seatimes. I am Jones. Consider me your Captain to cross the wild and murky waters of naval and maritime knowledge. Each week will feature a guest as well as some must know things about the soaring seas and the ship sailing them. I hope that by the end of these podcasts, you will consider yourselves more of an expert on the subject.”

She tried it on her own in the beginning; her eyes skimmed the internet for reliable sources and when those turned out to be pure gibberish to her, she attempted to read every possible Wikipedia page. Emma read about ships and currents and flags and boats and every other thing that had to do with the sea. It was an overload; a tidal wave of content Emma’s brain hadn’t been able to thoroughly prepare for. The matter entered and seeped back out, only leaving behind small traces of its presence. The typed letters on her bright screen started to blur and all of the remaining information began to collide with each other, the internal battle creating, even more, chaos than resided before.

Emma needed to switch tactics, to come up with a different game plan for this case or her cover would come into deep waters. Her mouse clicked on tons of links and her cursor browsed various videos and articles, but none were to Emma’s liking. Either they treated her as a child, explaining everything in a sugary, condescending voice, or they click baited her into picking a video and then persisted to talk about something completely different. Frustration arose and she was this close to giving up until a link on page twelve of Google’s results caught her eye. The site was simply called Seatimes and the description talked about a maritime podcast. Perhaps this would manage to remind her which side was port and which one was starboard.

“The confusion between port board and starboard is amusing, to say the least. I can’t tell you how many a tourist I’ve seen completely freeze and just stare at me with wide eyes when I mention one of them. I completely understand, however, that if the difference isn’t embedded into your head from a young age like left and right are, you get confused. I always remember the little mnemonic that my brother taught me when I was a little lad and that was that drinking a lot of port never made you feel right, but being a star did. So, port board is left and starboard is right.”

Mr. Douchebag had completely fallen for her act, had stared at her with an amazed and slightly turned on gaze as Emma excitedly talked about coastal navigation and how using charts was better than using a GPS. The job had been smooth sailing; the perp overpowered and imprisoned in no time. It was one of the easiest ones she had ever had, her cover fitting her perfectly (like her dress), and a lot of that, if not all, could be attributed to Seatimes. It had taken Emma one day to listen to seventeen episodes and each one had her yearning for more. She was eager to learn, something that she hadn’t experienced for years. So, even though the case had been closed and sealed, Seatimes became a part of Emma’s weekly routine.

It even became the highlight of her week. Forty minutes a week were completely dedicated to Seatimes. No distractions; just Emma, a muted phone, her computer and a glass of wine.

The doorbell rang, and rang again since Emma decided to ignore the sound, preferring Jones’ British cadence over it. No interruptions. After a third ring, a familiar voice drifted through her door and into her apartment.

“Emma!” Emma sighed and forcefully pressed pause. “I know that you’re home; your Bug is out front.”

A groan escaped; there was no going back now. Mary Margaret was, as the relentless ringing had already betrayed, an adamant woman. Emma threw her head back, her locks flying around with the jolt. She loved her best friend dearly, but how did she not understand that if Emma wasn’t opening the door, there probably was an underlying reason. Like her sacred Seatimes times.

With hasty steps, she approached the door and swung it open. It revealed Mary Margaret, a small smile on her lips and hands folded over her protruding belly.

“What?” Emma greeted, her tone not welcoming at all and her word choice quite curt.

“You could be a bit more kind to a pregnant woman.” Her raven-haired friend raised an unamused eyebrow.

Emma supposed that Mary Margaret was right and that she could be more kind, or at least less pissed off.

“I’m sorry, Mary Margaret, please come on in.” Her hand gestured to her apartment as the guilt crept up on her.

“I was just joking,” Mary Margaret assured as she entered. “It’s totally alright. Sorry to barge in.”

Emma shrugged in response, showing that it was quite alright.

“What were you doing?” The curiosity filled the room as Mary Margaret peered around. She found it void of any other people or proof something suspicious was taking place and turned back to Emma.

“I was just listening to a podcast,” she answered. “Relaxing.”

Emma didn’t know if her friend had noticed the small jab in her answer.

“So nothing much,” was Mary Margaret’s conclusion. “Good. I’m here to ask you if you’d like to visit an art gallery a friend of mine is opening. She’s really talented and it’s supposed to be one of the most hyped events of the month,” she explained with excitement, bouncing on the ball of her feet.

Emma’s response came instantaneously; she didn’t need any time to think about it or consider going.

“No, thanks. I think I’ll pass.”

Her friend clearly wasn’t expecting that answer as she looked confused.

“Emma.” Her brow creased and her mouth was set in a discontent scowl.

“I don’t feel like going out today,” she tried to reason. She usually didn’t feel like it, the coziness of her home beating any overtly loud and awkward socializing, but especially today (and every other Wednesday), it was out of the question.

“But there’s going to be free food and free drinks. If I can’t take advantage of free alcohol, you definitely should.”

Emma shook her head, already bracing herself for what would follow. She knew what this meant, declining one of her offers yet again. She would receive one of Mary Margaret’s ‘way too invested in your social life best friend’ speechesTM

“Emma,” she began speaking, her tone motherly and at the same time disciplining. “You should go out more. Meet new people. Start dating again.”

There was no use. Not since Walsh had completely destroyed her last remnant of hope towards love by cheating on her while they were engaged. Why keep putting herself out there, keep taking part in pleasantries that lead to nowhere? Why should she continue risking her heart if it never worked out?

“I’m not like you, Mary Margaret. I’m not social and bubbly and whatever else belongs to your characteristics,” Emma specified. “There’s no use in trying to get me to go places. I need a break of at least a year from life, because it’s frankly quite exhausting and I want to catch my breath. Everything’s fine how it is. I don’t need love.”

“My only love is the Sea, Eric.”

“Jones, don’t hold it against me that I’m married.”

“I’m not. I’m not. As some of you might know Eric’s wife is professional swimmer Ariel Andersen. I would imagine that she understands your dedication to the sea and your research.”

“She does. She is my biggest fan. I recently even named an algae I discovered after her.”

“Did she feel honored that there’s now, of everything in the very deep sea, an algae with her name floating around?”

“I wouldn’t call it particularly honored. Disgruntled is another word for it.”

“As I suspected.”

Weeks passed and she kept listening. At this point, Emma wasn’t fooling herself anymore. This wasn’t about the content of the show, hadn’t been about that for quite some time. Her attentive listening was because of Jones. His voice, the soothing melody, and his passion. Every word dripped of love for the subject, of pure enjoyment. That was what he transferred onto Emma. That was what made her tune in week after week.

Her curiosity got the best of her one day and the desire to know more about him as well. The man was an enigma, a mystery. The only thing she could derive from the podcasts was that, if his accent told her anything, he had to be UK based.

There were a lot of people that bore the name Jones across the pond and trying to find him among them would be an impossible endeavor. Emma had one last trick up her sleeve, one last asset she hadn’t utilized yet; her bail bonds knowledge. Though “bail bonds knowledge” wasn’t anything specific or a program she could run, it was more being persistent and scrutinizing every nook and cranny of her resources.

She checked everything but there was nothing. Every possible connection to Jones was always carefully through Seatimes. The contact email address was just called Seatimes, the site was registered on that name, the Facebook didn’t have any personal mentions about the person managing the account. It was a dead end. At least she discovered that the page often posted little previews of episodes to come, so she liked it to be kept up to date.

“I know I’ve been quite secretive about who I am, where I live, what I do but that’s simply because I don’t think that would add anything to this podcast. A lot of listeners have sent me an email recently– which you can if you have any questions, the link is on the site– about the dangers of sailing. So, for the first time, I’m feeling inclined to share a very personal story.

“A couple of years ago, a younger, more carefree version of myself went out for a sail. I was boisterous back then, overconfident about my own capabilities as a sailor. A storm was predicted that day but I didn’t heed the forecast’s warning, I simply ignored it and continued with my plans. The storm was terrible; as terrible as the forecast had predicted it to be and I got into trouble. The boat I was on was completely wrecked and my left hand was completely crushed which lead to the stump I know have.

“This story isn’t to scare you away from touching or setting foot on a boat ever again, because I didn’t. It cost me blood, sweat, and tears but I am able to live without my hand now, am able to do what I love most which are sailing and making this podcast. There are dangers to sailing like to the rest of life, but a lot of them can be prevented. Be smart, listen to weather forecasts, check everything, double check everything before you leave, make sure that you are one hundred percent capable of sailing, and most importantly: be safe.”

“Happy birthday!” Mary Margaret beamed with joy, throwing her hands up in the air and welcoming Emma for a hug.

The loft that Mary Margaret shared with her husband David (and Emma’s other best friend) was adorned with little lights and balloons and filled with many familiar faces.

She smiled in return, letting the happy atmosphere of her friends and family in the room catch on. Emma normally wasn’t a fan of birthday parties; a small and quiet dinner usually sound far more alluring but she knew that, with turning thirty, a party would be inevitable. Surprise parties were even less enjoyable to Emma and Mary Margaret knew that, giving the birthday girl a much-appreciated heads up weeks in advance. Emma had embraced it, forced herself to not be a negative Nellie when the notorious day arrived and to actually enjoy herself.

Crossing the entire loft, she greeted everyone, thanked them for coming and flashed them brief smiles as a thank you for their birthday wishes.

Everyone was chatting, a drink in hand and some quiet music floating through the room. It was in that moment, the start of a new decade of her life that Emma decided to change, that she made a vow. To be more open again, to go out again, to stop locking herself in her apartment while she had so many people that loved her and wanted the best for her. She’d let the past control the present too much and this was the end of it.

“Alright,” David interrupted Emma’s thinking and the others’ small conversation. “It’s time for Emma to open her presents.”

The room erupted into cheering and Emma felt the blush creep onto her cheeks.

“David and I’ll go first,” Mary Margaret announced, approaching Emma with a small blue envelope in her hands.

The couple looked at her expectantly as Emma accepted the gift and slowly opened it. Her fingers revealed a card written in Mary Margaret’s swirly handwriting with only three words on it.

“The Sailing Brothers?” Her brow furrowed as she questioned the message. “What’s this?”

“Well,” Mary Margaret started timidly, turning the card in Emma’s hands to reveal the backside. There was more written there. “I’ve noticed that you’ve been quite interested in sailing and boats lately so I thought you might enjoy a small sailing trip.”

Staring at her friends, back at the blue card and back at her friends, Emma narrowed her eyes.

“How did you notice that?”

Before, Emma had been certain that her Seatimes obsession was something concealed, something locked between the four walls of her apartment.

“Facebook?” Her answer resembled more to a question. “You’ve been liking a lot of nautically themed posts. Was I wrong to assume you would like this? Because I can still change it if you want.”

“No, no!” she protested. “It’s amazing. You’re both amazing.”

“Oh good,” Mary Margaret sighed in relief. “Just let us know when you’d like to go and we’ll take care of everything. You should probably go as soon as possible, before winter truly sets and everything becomes cold. I doubt that a sail will be enjoyable when you’re freezing.”

“Honestly, I am not a winter person. There’s just something far more alluring about sailing in the summer when it’s warm, the sun is shining. Even though summer gets my preference, I don’t stop sailing during the winter. Only when the weather forces me, when it’s too cold or stormy. There’s just something about the cold wind racing and sweeping through your hair, coloring your cheeks that makes it worthwhile.

"As you might’ve guessed; today is all about how to prepare yourself and your boat for winter.”

The more she thought about it, the more Emma had been dreading this getaway sail. It meant being alone for several hours with a random person who was supposed to teach her how everything worked. And as one might’ve noticed, Emma and socializing didn’t usually go hand in hand.

There was her resolution, however, to be more open to new people and new things lingering in the back of her mind. Plus, she couldn’t let down Mary Margaret and David by letting their probably quite expensive gift go to waste. So, after a lot of pep talking herself, Emma had chosen a date, had sent it to M’s and had let her book it. This way, she’d be forced to go.

The day arrived and Emma rushed to her window, hoping the sky would be dark and gray, predicting a looming storm. The sky her eyes witnessed was anything but. It was sunny and only a few puffs of white decorated the blue background. Of course, today the weather gods decided to forget that November meant fall, not summer.

Slowly, she got dressed, ate a small breakfast and made her way to the docks. M’s had texted her the address and the Bug reached the destination fifteen minutes before her sail was scheduled. Emma stayed in the car for five additional minutes, fiddling with her fingers before deciding that she had waited long enough.

A large sign told Emma that this was indeed The Sailing Brothers and she pushed the door open, triggering a bell. A man a bit older than her thirty years walked towards her with a kind smile that made crinkles appear around his blue eyes.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” Emma spoke. “My name is Emma Swan.”

The man nodded before Emma could continue explaining that it was Mary Margaret that had booked the sail for her.

“Very nice to meet you, Ms. Swan.” He offered his hand and Emma grabbed it, shortly shaking it. “My name is Liam. Welcome to The Sailing Brothers.”

Emma muttered a small thanks in return, but sensed that her dread towards the trip had lessened considerably by meeting Liam and getting a glimpse of his personality. He seemed like the kind of person that wouldn’t let the sail get awkward, something Emma would really appreciate.

“Mary Margaret told me this was a birthday gift.” His eyebrows rose slightly, checking the piece of information with Emma and dropped again as she let out a confirming hum.

“Happy birthday to you,” he congratulated before getting back to business. “The sail will take about three hours and includes an introduction to sailing, but seeing that Mary Margaret told me you’re quite interested in the sea, a lot of it will probably be repetition. There are complementary drinks and snacks on board, so no need to rein yourself in.” He threw her a fast wink.

Sounded like Mary Margaret to tell her entire life, her interests, and aspirations to a virtual stranger.

They had started moving, left the building and walked towards the ship Emma assumed was going to be the one they were going to use.

Suddenly, a figure appeared on the deck of the ship, carrying a rope and throwing it from one side to the other. The man was clearly preparing it to leave the docks.

Liam must’ve noticed Emma’s curious glance as he replied to a question that was only asked in Emma’s mind.

“That’s my brother Killian, the actual sailing brother.” He chuckled. “I take care of the business side and he gets all the fun.”

It was a bit disappointing to hear that Liam wasn’t going to be accompanying her on her sail. She’d just gotten used to him and was beginning to look forward to all of it.

A phone rang in the distance and it made Liam look up. His eyes moved between the small distance between the ship and Emma.

“I should probably go and get that. It was very nice to meet you, Ms. Swan. I hope you enjoy your sail.”

And with that Liam left her standing alone on the docks, running back to his office to answer the ringing phone. Emma closed the previous distance and halted right before the ship. She didn’t want to assume she had permission to come aboard, so she waited until she was noticed.

The wait gave her time to observe the man hastily working. His hair had the same shade as his brother’s but lacked the small curls. He was muscular, the movements in his shoulders and arms betrayed that, and younger than Liam. His very defined jaw was dusted with light scruff that changed color when the sun hit it.

Killian suddenly stopped moving, his eyes settling on her, and flashed her a grin while motioning her on board. Emma let out a small, preparing breath and stepped on the wooden plank.

His eyes were blue as well and absolutely took her breath away.

Crap. The guy she was stuck on a ship with for three hours was absolutely gorgeous.

“Emma Swan, I presume?”

“That’s me,” she replied.

It proved far too distracting to focus on his eyes so Emma chose to lower her gaze to the floorboards instead.

“Welcome aboard.”

He extended his hand and Emma tried to ignore the little jolt of electricity tha ran up her arm as their palms touched.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Killian Jones.”

Emma stilled.

That voice. How he pronounced Jones. It seemed awfully familiar. She softly shook her head, trying to get rid of her feeling. It was not because his last name was Jones and that he was British, that he was that British Jones.

But she had noticed something else. Killian’s left hand was missing. A metal attachment in the form of a hook replaced it. Missing a hand was a bit rarer than being called Jones and being British and the concurrence of those three was probably not very common.

“Don’t worry about it, lass,” Killian said, noticing her lingering eyes and holding the hook up. “I’m perfectly capable of steering the ship without it.”

“No it wasn’t-” Emma remonstrated. “I wasn’t doubting that.” She shook her head.

She should just ignore it, pretend it’s a very coincidental coincidence. That he was called Jones. And was British. And he loved sailing. And he didn’t have a left hand.

“Even though the weather is quite good today-” Killian continued, undeterred. “-there’s quite a lot of wind today, but don’t worry, wind isn’t always bad. Especially when it comes to sailing.” He bared his teeth in a grin. “To start your sail, I will need you to go to starboard and fetch a rope for me.”

The thought that this might be Jones was still haunting Emma’s mind, slowing down her reaction and making her seem confused about star- and port board. She knew which one was which, thanks to Seatimes.

“It’s confusing, isn’t it?” Killian said. “My brother taught me a mnemonic when I was small to remember and it was that drinking a lot of port never made you feel right-”

��But being a star did,” Emma intervened, familiar with the mnemonic and everything he was probably going to say on this sail.

It was him.

“Aye,” he said taken aback. “How did you know that?”

Emma wasn’t buying his act; he had to be perfectly aware of how she knew that.

“You’re him.” The corners of her lips curled but it was more in a grimace than in a smile.

All of this reeked of Mary Margaret meddling.

“Him?” A crease appeared in Killian's–Jones'– forehead. “Sorry, I’m afraid I’m not following.”

The confusion clouding her mind completely disappeared, Emma becoming bolder, straightening her back.

“Jones.” Her hand gestured towards him. “Seatimes. How did Mary Margaret put up you to this?”

Emma was getting angry now. How could they trick her like this? She already knew it was weird for her to be so obsessed with a stupid maritime podcast, but this only made her more aware of it, only made it more embarrassing. She would think Jones would have enough integrity not to do this to an unsuspecting woman.

“You listen to Seatimes?”

“Yeah,” Emma almost yelled in exasperation. “That’s why I’m here right? For some fangirl sail.”

“No, I’m pretty certain it’s just an ordinary sail or maybe the fangirl upgrade package didn’t get through to me.” Killian smirked. “But I am excited to meet my first official fan.”

“Oh.”

Emma’s face fell and her eyes widened. Shit. While she thought she was being embarrassed, she was actually embarrassing herself. The heat rose to her cheeks and Emma had an intense urge to run as fast as she could and sever all ties with Seatimes. No way in hell she could enjoy listening to it anymore. “I’m not doing this.” Turning around, she walked away from him and any further shameful situations.

“Swan,” he yelled and repeated as he caught her hand. “Swan. Don’t leave. Everything has been paid for and I’ve just completely prepared the Roger. You got her all excited to go out.”

He couldn’t make her feel bad about a ship. Things didn’t work like that, did they? She did feel a tinge of guilt but if it was because of the ship or him or her best friends, was up for debate.

“The Roger?” she questioned. “As in The Jolly Roger?”

“The one and only.” He smiled proudly. “So what do you say?” His head tilted as his blue eyes perused her face.

“Alright.”

Emma returned and went to starboard to grab the rope he needed. He sent her a thankful look as he continued to prepare the Roger.

There was not a lot of use for him to teach her things about sailing because she already knew them, so they just sat in silence next to each other when the Roger was well underway, neither of them knowing what to say.

“I thought you lived in England.” Emma looked at him.

“Moved here seven years ago with my brother.” He shrugged after explaining his accent.

The silence returned and the wind wisped around, sending Emma’s locks flying.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been listening to the podcast?” His expression was curious.

“About three months, more or less.” Emma’s hand tried to tame her locks, pushing them behind her ear. “I needed to do some research.”

Killian stood up and went to stand behind the helm.

“Are you writing a book?”

“Oh no,” Emma was quick to correct him. “I’m a bail bonds person and I had a target that loved sailing and women who were into it.”

“Ah.” He turned the helm, but only barely and its creaking was the only sound again. “Did you get him?”

“Huh?” Emma asked, attention focused on the openness of the sea and not on his words.

“Your target?” Killian clarified. “Did you catch him?”

“Oh, yeah.” Emma nodded, walking around and tracing her finger along the railing. “I did.”

“Good.”

Major thanks to Ruhi ( @ofshipsandswans ) and Selina ( I didn’t tag you, are you proud of me?) for their enthusiasm, encouraging me to write this and for editing this *smirk* Other people who occasionally like to be tagged in things I write: @shady-swan-jones @the-reason-to-sail-home @artandteaandstuff

[singingunderthecurtain]

Together For Real (ChanyeolxYOUxKris) Mini Series 4

Mini Masterlist

Picture not mine, found everything on Google

Author: @julietsoddeye AU: Canon/EXO Universe Genre: Angst | Fluff Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader x Kris Trigger Warning: Distrust, Feeling of Betrayal, basically some angsty stuff. Word Count: 2,021

Plot: You, an EXO manager, developed a dangerous relationship with Kris and one day he suddenly left EXO and it left you devastated. For some reason, you found yourself being in a relationship again with one of the boys. And it’s Park Chanyeol.You set boundaries with him, but he shamelessly breaks all the rules making you want to run away.

October, 2016

Channie: Hey Bae. ♥ (Seen 00:34)

You: Really? Chanyeol, really? (Seen 00:35)

Channie: Isn’t that what kids say nowadays? :P I luv you bae! ♥ (Seen 00:36)

Channie: Hey! (Seen 00:37)

Channie: YAH! (Seen 00:39)

You: What?! (Seen 00:40)

Channie: What r u doing? (Seen 00:44)

You: UGH! I’m trying to sleep it’s almost 1 AM. (Seen 00:45)

Channie: Don’t sleep yet. I’m on my way home now. (Seen 00:46)

And by home, he meant your very small apartment. You didn’t reply to his text anymore since you know he’ll still go to you no matter what. Chanyeol has been going home to you for a year now. Almost every single night and day, unless he’s really busy. By now half of his wardrobe is in your house, which pisses you off tremendously because you have no more space for your own clothes.

Your relationship is limit-free, but not exclusive. You told him he’s free to go and date anyone he wants, he told you that you’re the only one he needed. And you, on the other hand, tried dating a few times, which pisses Chanyeol off a lot but he can’t do anything about it or you’ll get angry at him. No one stood out though. All of the guys you dated were either too boring or too strange for you so you just stopped trying altogether.

You’re still young anyway; you decided to just enjoy Chanyeol’s company while he’s still into you. You’ll never know when he’ll get tired and be done with your bullshit and finally leave you for a much deserving girl, and he could have anyone he wants. He’s Park Chanyeol; any girl will die to be loved by him.

You know you’re hurting Chanyeol but you don’t know why you keep doing it. He’s a really nice guy, a much nicer lover than Kris will ever be if you were being honest with yourself. He treats you well, gives you flowers and showers you with gifts, hugs and kisses, and love, he’s great in bed and not to mention he lasts very long and lets you finish first. A gentleman through and through.

You find it really weird that he keeps taking your shit though and is okay with it. Maybe he’s a masochist who gets off with you being a fucking jerk to him. Or maybe he’s gone crazy with his line of work and lack of sleep so he lets you treat him badly.

As you were slowly drifting off to sleep, mind in drowsy shambles, you hear the code of the door’s digital lock was being pressed indicating Chanyeol’s return. You shake your head and scratch your eyes to wake your mind up.

“Hey, are you still up?” Chanyeol spoke gingerly as he closes the door softly to not make a loud sound if ever you’re asleep.

“I’m still awake.” You say as you stood up from the bed you share with Chanyeol meeting him halfway, greeting him with a warm and tight hug. You give Chanyeol affection from time to time because he deserves it and he never fails to grin with his stupidly cute face whenever you give him the time of day.

“I have to show you something.” Chanyeol excitedly squeaks as he drops his bag and scoops you up in his arms, jumping on the bed with you yelping and giggling silently. You both bounce up and down on the mattress and he gives your lips the biggest and wettest kiss ever.

“What is it?” You yawned as you ask.

“My collaboration with Far East Movement is finally out.” Chanyeol flashes you his pearly whites as he fish for his phone in his sweatpants pocket.

“Oh wow, let’s hear it.” You yawn again and closes your eyes.

“Don’t sleep!” He complains, with the same aegyo he shows you whenever he doesn’t get what he wanted.

“I’m not sleeping, just closing my eyes.” You say with another yawn, opening your eyes again to see him staring at you.

“It’s okay we can watch it together tomorrow if you’re really sleepy.” Chanyeol smiles as he attempts to turn off his phone but you stop his actions with your hands.

“Let’s watch it now.” You insist and he complies. The song started with a smooth voice of a woman who you recognized as Tinashe and your mouth drops a little bit and a smile crept across your lips. You like Tinashe a lot and Chanyeol knows it.

“Oh my gosh Tinashe, really? “ You say excitedly and Chanyeol’s Cheshire Cat grin widens. “Did you meet her by any chance?” You asked enthusiastically as you tighten your cling on Chanyeol’s torso with your legs intertwined together with his; inhaling his oddly comforting scent of fused sweat, laundry detergent, and cologne.

“Sadly, I did not.” Chanyeol answers and you purse your lips into a pout.

Out of habit, his hands start caressing your back into tranquilizing motions making you relax even more. Both the warmness of your body heat and the soothing music he’s playing for you was slowly lulling you to sleep. You weren’t sure if you finished the song or not, but you wake up a couple of hours later with Chanyeol silently snoring. His face nuzzling on your chest, arms and legs gripping securely around your whole body. You absentmindedly smile and caresses his head of hair soothingly making him shift slightly in his sleep and to bury his face in your chest even more.

A few days later you remember to listen to the song again and as the song progresses, Chanyeol’s verse finally came.

Love is a high, we feelin' alive, you Lovin’ the size, you ride this flow I give you more you feelin’ the flow, you never let none of them bring down the vibe Hustle to win, we be livin’ in sin, making us two of a kind New road, babe we got temples to build Ain’t no haters can step to our grind We got that empire mind, Together slowly, let’s climb up (That be freal) A moment with sincerity  Try to feel it, close your eyes (That be freal) You be the bank on my side, nothing but dimes Let’s make a deal, Gradually feel, dream and reality  If you hold my hand, together freal

______

The song was on repeat for the whole day as you do chores. It was your day off from work and Chanyeol was not around to distract you so you took advantage of it and did some laundry and clean up a little bit around your small but cozy apartment.

November, 2016

It was a very slow day at work, it was only one in the afternoon but it felt like you were in the office for more than 8 hours already. Your boss was on a business trip overseas and you can slack off if you want but you chose to do some paper works instead because you didn’t want new projects to overwhelm you in the next few weeks. Some of your coworkers were dicking around the office, some weren't even present, probably out and about doing personal stuff. While you, on the other hand, was being a fucking awesome office employee that you are. You know you will be laughing at your colleagues in the next week to come, hustling and cramming with work when your boss gets back.

“Have you heard that new Kris Wu song?” You overheard one of the interns say, making you stop your typing. You aren’t surprised about hearing his name anymore since the interns talk about EXO and the three estranged members a lot in the break room during lunch hours. One particular girl is obsessed with Chanyeol and she didn’t even know that her trainer, a.k.a you, was her precious Oppa's real-life lover.

“I haven’t yet!” The other intern says.

“It’s all in English, I don’t really understand much but it sounded really cool.” She reiterates.

“What’s the title of the song?” The other asks.

“July. It’s weird I don’t even understand why it’s July.” The mention of that month made you freeze in place. Because that was your birth month. Goosebumps suddenly prickles the skin of the nape of your neck, a cold and sharp pang shoots right at your chest all of a sudden.

You immediately grab your phone and earbuds, darting towards the door to egress from your department office. You reached for the emergency exit and sat on the stairs as your hands keep trembling. It took you a few minutes before you were calm enough to draw the unlock pattern of your phone.

You click the Youtube app and typed in “Kris Wu July” on the search bar. The page loaded immediately and the first video that pops up shows a thumbnail of Kris wearing a hat with the initials “K W” on the front. You click on the video and the song started with a high pitched techno sounding instrument. His hair was white, looks good on him though, you thought to yourself. And the sight of him, after a lot of years, makes your heart beats fast. It’s not that you weren’t allowed to look up his activities, but you told yourself not to, to help yourself move on from him and his crippling memory. Chanyeol helped a lot by diverting your attention to him and him only.

I've been looking for a reason To have you in my arms Where you wanna be Never had a woman so pure Glad to have you right where you wanna be Talking 'til the morning we don't need any sleep I hate it when you go to work Laying 'til the sun down it feel like a dream I hate it when we go to work You should be here…

Baby, Baby, I Doing what feels right Baby, Baby, now Tell me what you wanna say Show me how you feeling, babe Show me how you feeling, babe

You've been looking for a reason To have me in your arms Where I wanna be Give you what you need and no more Glad to have you right Where you wanna be

Talking 'til the morning we don't need any sleep I hate it when you go to work Laying 'til the sun down it feel like a dream I hate it when we go to work You should be here

Baby, Baby, I Doing what feels right Baby, Baby, now Tell me what you wanna say Show me how you feeling, babe

You know this ain't rocket science Get what you got coming to ya I know what you like You know that I'mma keep it coming uh Something 'bout this Moët got you in the mood Say you got a situation Tell that other guy to move

Easy, I may have to call in work, girl How I'm s’posed to lay this work, girl This shit way too good to function I'm like Jordan when it's crunch time We at Nobu when it's lunch time I'mma get up out your way, girl But only if we spending some time, sometimes

Baby, Baby, I Doing what feels right Baby, Baby, now Tell me what you wanna say Show me how you feeling, babe

Show me how you Show me how you feeling, babe Show me how you feeling, babe

The song ended with the same techno sound with a slow fade. It was a blur and you didn’t exactly know how to react, your whole body was numb from all emotions. You get back to your desk and did your work robotically for the whole day. Thankfully nobody noticed your sudden change in the aura, you were grateful that there was a lack of people in the office that day.