#i even made his eyes smaller than they were originally

[1-800-adore-me]

| "Did I do good, honey?"

🍎 nsfw warning (18+) + tags: baby fever Caleb, dirty talk, inappropriate usage of evol abilities, edging (Caleb to you), fingering, cunninglingus, praise kink, pet names (pipsqueak, princess, baby girl, sweetheart, honey…), squirting, biting, grinding  ( porn without plot | words: around 3.9k ) (AN: caleb would totally be into the fantasy of breeding you and having loving baby making sex. unfortunately no breeding for this fic but hopefully for the next one <3 caleb is just having his boydinner)

After Caleb finally confirmed his availability to hang out with you for the day, you decided that you wanted to try out a cafe with him. You told him that Tara mentioned it having the “most tastiest” lattes that Linkon had to offer and the pastries were to die for. Considering how excited you looked when you were telling him this, how could he ever say no to those giant puppy eyes of yours? 

When you both arrived at the cafe, it was bustling with business. There was a line of people waiting outside of the cafe and there was a sense of apprehension coming from you. Are we going to wait forever? Should we just head back? I don’t want Caleb to feel like he’s wasting time waiting with me here…

As if he could sense your apprehension, Caleb patted your head with that soft smile that you were oh so familiar with. “It seems busy but hey, I wouldn’t mind waiting in line so long as this pipsqueak here can.” He’d chuckle, a delicate sound that was sent straight to your heart. “Don’t tell me that you’re so hungry that you can’t wait in line, hm?”

You frowned and playfully hit his arm. “As if! Come on, let’s hurry up before more people crowd up and take our spots then!” 

Even though you were smaller than him, the amount of strength that you had when you grabbed his hand and dragged him to the line was akin to a thousand men. He let out an amused chuckle as he allowed you to do so, taking in any opportunity to feel your skin on his. The way your fingers locked perfectly with his made his heart flutter as it made him think back to the olden days where you were so clingy and needy for him to the point where you begged him to take you everywhere he went. 

After waiting in line for what felt like hours, the both of you finally arrived inside the cafe. It had an inviting and warm atmosphere that quickly dissolved any sense of frustration building up inside of you. Once it was finally Caleb’s and your turn to order, you both decided on 2 slices of apple pie and 2 lattes. After the both of you had gotten your orders, you decided to head out. The inside of the cafe, although it looked cozy and sweet to relax in, was beginning to feel cramped with the amount of people endlessly pouring in. The original plan included the both of you spending the afternoon there but considering that it was only going to get busier, perhaps it wouldn’t be a good idea to linger long. After a quick discussion, it was a better idea to just head back home for the day and watch movies as you enjoy your treats. Although it sounded mundane, today felt like a good day to be lazy. 

Suddenly, a young girl grabbed the hem of your skirt. You looked down at her with a confused expression on your face, yet you held a warm smile towards her. Caleb stopped in his tracks, offering the small girl the same expression as well. 

“Hello there, little one! Did you need something from me?” You say, now turning around to fully face her as you crouched down to her height. Her warm brown eyes observed your face for a moment, her fingers twiddling with each other. She seemed quite shy. 

She hesitated before she spoke. “Miss… What do you have there? I saw that you ordered something that looked yummy but I don’t know what it is. Can you tell me?” Her eyes averted from yours for a moment before focusing them on you again as she pointed at the bag held in Caleb’s hand. 

You let out a soft chuckle, as if her question was something peculiar. All of this nervousness to ask you what kind of goodies you bought? You patted her head as if to reassure her that she could relax around you. By magic, you could feel her shoulders relaxing. 

“Well, why don’t I show you instead?” You say as you rummaged through the paper bag that Caleb was holding in his hand and showed her a box of 1 apple slice inside. “It’s an apple pie! This kind mister and I used to eat a lot of these when we were little like you and we heard that this cafe makes really good pies!” You handed it to her as she hesitantly accepted it - although confusion was written on her face. “Why don’t you have my slice then? We bought 2 so I can always share the other slice with him!”

The young girl’s eyes suddenly widened as her expression brightened up. She looked down at the box you just gave her and let out an adorable chuckle. “Are you sure, miss? I don’t want to take away your food!”

You furiously shook your head as you quickly got up. “Don’t fret about it! Like I said, I can just share with this mister right here!” You tapped Caleb’s chest, earning yourself a soft laughter from him. “You wouldn’t mind at all, right?” He looks at her and smiles, nodding. 

“You heard her! Don’t worry about us, little missy!” He’d pat her head as well before looking at you. “Should we head on then? I don’t want our pie to get cold if we take too long to go back home.” Although there was his usual gentleness in his tone, there was something off - as if he was in a rush. You raised an eyebrow at him but thought nothing of it. You were also anticipating spending the day with him after all. Perhaps he felt the same way. 

Both of you waved at the younger girl as you walked away. She shouted an adorable ‘Thank you!’ before she scurried away to find her parents. Caleb’s eyes lingered on the both of you for a moment before returning his attention on you. But something was different about his expression. He looked like he was distracted by something. You snapped your fingers in front of him in order to catch his attention. 

“Are you okay, Caleb? Distracted by something?” You said, giving him a teasing smile. “Don’t tell me that you’re upset that you have to share with me. If you really want to, we can head back to the cafe and wait another 200 years so you don’t get grumpy!” 

He laughed - his familiar, comforting gaze now on you. “Oh, pipsqueak. If we waited any longer in there, I might’ve had to hold you back from stealing the pastries and running off! Trust me, I don’t mind sharing with you at all. After all, didn’t I use to share all of my pie slices with you when we were younger? Gran would scold me all the time, saying that I shouldn’t give you everything I had!”

The two of you exchanged comforting nostalgic memories as you continued your way back home. Yet, you would notice that there was still a distracted expression on his face. Did I say something wrong? Did I upset him? You decided that you would ask him about it later. Right now, you just enjoyed the playful dynamic that you had going on with him. 

When the both of you finally reached home, he set the bag down on the table as you grabbed the blankets and pillows needed for the evening’s session. After you both changed into your comfortable homebody outfits, you snuggled against his broad chest as he put an arm around you. The television was playing some romcom movie that you two thought sounded interesting - although, your attention was directed towards something else other than the screen. 

“Caleb?” You gently called his attention. His eyes immediately turned from the screen to you. 

“Hm? What is it, pipsqueak?” He replied in a gentle tone, matching yours. 

“What’s been bothering you?” Your eyebrows lightly knitted together. “Ever since the cafe, you seem… distracted. Did something happen?” You put a hand on his cheek and he laid his own hand on yours, deepening the skinship. He turned his face into your hand and smiled into it, laying a brief kiss on you. 

He gave a small hum. “I had an interesting thought, that’s all.” His tone was more playful now as he couldn’t help holding back that teasing grin he always had. 

You let out a groan, although it was a much more exaggerated one. “Tell me now! What is it that’s bothering you? Is it something that I can help with?” 

His eyes slightly averted from yours for a moment before focusing his gaze on your body - then onto your eyes again. Something changed in his eyes - something more akin to hunger. He laid another kiss on your fingers, then onto the back of your hand. 

“You were being so kind to that little girl… You’re so gentle when you talk to kids. Makes me want to give you one.” He whispered ever so gently as he snaked his hand underneath the blankets and laid it on your stomach. He rubbed tiny circles around as he laughed. 

“You would be good, wouldn’t you? I think about it sometimes… Me coming home to a tiny little you running around the house, causing a ruckus as we all laugh together.” His face inched closer to yours and that’s when you realized how hot your cheeks felt at the implications he was getting at. His beautiful, gorgeous eyes were intense to look into and you looked away for a moment, feeling like you would get lost in them if you stared for too long. 

He didn’t stop talking. He continued with that low, husky voice of his now as his hands began travelling lower. “Wouldn’t you agree? Wouldn’t you like being pregnant with my baby? I’ll give you one, yeah? I know that you get lonely sometimes when I’m off on a mission so… I’ll give you a baby, hm? How does that sound, honey?” The only reason why he stopped talking was because his lips were busy on your neck, kissing and suckling on your soft skin. You let out a soft moan as you tilted your neck, granting him more access to it. 

“Remember when we were kids and you said you wanted a big family when you grew up? 4 or more kids so they could all be friends with each other?” He was now licking your collarbones as he watched colorful bruises start to form on your skin. “You still want 4 babies, hm? I can give them to you if you’d like, yeah?”

Caleb’s naughty hands now dug past the hem of your shorts and his long, rugged fingers began rubbing your entrance through your panties. You could already feel yourself getting damp from the quick contact of his digits. Then he began rubbing your already hard clit with his thumb. Your clit, in response, was pulsing against his large digit. 

“C-Caleb…! Aaah…!” You let out a breathy sigh. You grabbed his face and began kissing him now - locking your mouths together as you allowed your tongue to explore his. There was a sweet and bitter taste in his mouth as he had just recently drank his latte while the both of you were watching the movie. With his other hand that wasn’t busy pleasing you, he put it behind your head to deepen your kiss. Obscene noises of wet moans filled the room and it was the only thing that you could hear in your ears. Whatever was playing on the screen now was just background noises that you couldn’t even bother giving your attention to anymore. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to feel everything that was happening. 

Your panties were getting damper and damper by the second, the fabric getting thinner and transparent now because of your slick. His gentle touches in contrast to how ferociously he was making out with you sent butterflies in your stomach. You couldn’t hold back a moan into his mouth, which made him grin. 

“Caleb, please…! Touch me more!” You begged him as you broke away from his lips. A thin strand of saliva was the only connection from your separation and you held back the urge to lick your lips - lest you’d lose the only thing keeping you both together. His lips were wet and bruised and so were yours. You took off your panties, discarding them somewhere in the room. “Put your fingers inside, please! I need you right now, I need you so much!” 

His breath hitched. His eyes were looking everywhere at you now, drinking in your desperation. Then, he chuckled - a sound that was rich and deep. “But should I?” He said, now taking away his hand from your wet and aching sex. “What if I don’t, hm? I’m the only one who can satisfy you, my love.” He licked one of his fingers that was covered in your slick. “And if I can’t satisfy you… are you going to cry? I can just leave you like this and walk away.” He’d chuckle. 

As if he said something offensive, you jumped onto his lap and began grinding on his propped up knee. You didn’t care if your wet slick dirtied his pants, you needed to relieve your throbbing or else you’d go insane. When you soon realized that it wasn’t enough, you forcefully grabbed the hand that was pleasuring you and moved it back to your cunt. Then, you began grinding on it as well. The soft flesh of his hands felt better than his pants, you believe. 

“Can’t you see how much I need you, Caleb?” You pleaded as you tried to entice something out of him with your pathetic cries.. “I’ve… I’ve always needed you. I need you in my life, Caleb. You’re the only one who can satisfy me. Please? Please?” You now leaned forward and began kissing his neck, mimicking what he did to you earlier. He let out a satisfied sigh as he tilted his neck, which you began nipping and suckling at. The wet sounds of your kisses and his pleased sighs made your head swirl. 

“When did you learn how to get so naughty, hm? Was it because of me?” Just when you thought your pleas fell on deaf ears, you felt one of his fingers enter you. You were so wet that his fingers could easily allow themselves in without resistance. You let out a breathy moan next to his ear as you felt another finger slip itself in. 

As his fingers fucked you, his other hand started to rub your clit as well. Overwhelmed by the stimulation of having both your hole and your bundle of nerves being pleasured, your hips began trying to move away. But just when you tried to move around, the gravity around you forced you to keep still. 

- Caleb’s evol, you quickly realized. 

You let out a frustrated and quiet sob as you were now being tortured with how good it felt. It was overwhelming, painful, and oh so good at the same time. Tears began falling from your eyes as the only thing you could do was continue holding onto him and moan pitifully into his ear. You could feel more slick travel down your thighs as he continued ravishing you with no hint of stopping. He licked your tears away and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, cooing you as he slipped in a third finger. Even though you were dripping with wet slick, the intrusion of a third finger began feeling like it was too much. You let out a choked moan as you wept. 

“N-No more, Caleb. It’s too much- I’m too full…!” You pleaded. 

He gently shushed you as he nibbled on your ear. “You’re doing so good for me, honey. You’re taking my fingers so well. Do you like them that much, princess? You like it when I fuck you so hard that you can do nothing but cry?” You hear him chuckle as he holds you closer to him. “You were always a crybaby, my love. I wonder if our baby will be a crybaby like you too?” 

The image of you being big and round with his child was enough to send you over the moon. You could feel your thighs shaking as you prepared to release yourself onto his hands. You could feel the buildup of your climax getting bigger in your abdomen and just when you could feel yourself cum, you couldn’t. 

Because he took his hands away. 

“Ah- wha-!” You cried out as your climax was disturbed. Your frustrated and aching cunt throbbed at the absence of his long fingers. Caleb released his evol and you collapsed onto him, your knees weak from the sudden introduction of gravity again. He held you tightly against his chest as he laid another kiss on your forehead. Then, he set you down on the sofa with you laying down on your back. Dazed and frustrated from your lack of climax, you allowed him to move you however he’d like. You were suddenly aware of how huge and wide his sofa was.

Caleb looked at you with an innocent smile on his face. “I suddenly had a thought that maybe I was being too mean to you if I just made you cum on my fingers. I mean, wouldn’t you much rather prefer to cum in my mouth instead, honey?” 

He spread your legs open with his hands, revealing the tasteful fruit that he couldn’t wait to consume. He went down to your cunt, smelling the musky aromatic smell as he observed your abused pussy. Your poor, swelled up clit was throbbing at how close his breath felt and your entrance that was soaked in your mouth-watering slick was shining beautifully from the sunlight cascading on you from the window. Caleb rubbed your thigh as he began kissing your inner thighs, each sensation sending electric shocks to you. You couldn’t hold back the quiet whimpers escaping from your lips. 

Then, he bit down on the flesh. You let out a loud moan, your hands clutching the blankets that you were laid on. You could feel him suckling on the abused skin now as he tried to deepen the mark, before moving away from it. Then, he repeated the same thing to your other inner thigh. Your clit and pussy throbbed from the painful sensation yet you could feel yourself leaking more juices. You cried out again and began thrusting your hips upwards. 

“Aaanh…Ah- Ah…! Caleb…!” You whined. “Hurry up already!”

He kissed your thighs. “Getting impatient, are we? How come you could handle waiting what felt like forever in line for the cafe but you can’t even be patient with me right now?” His stupid playful tone made you want to punch him. You let out a sound of frustration before gasping as you felt him lick your clit. 

Soon, he began suckling on the small bud of nerves as he began fingering you again with two this time to start. - ‘You can handle two this time, right? You’re always so eager to take my fingers, baby. I’ll treat you good, yeah. You’re getting my fingers so fucking wet, honey.’ You opened your legs wider, allowing him full access to your cunt. Your head was thrown back as you felt his fingers curve upwards, stimulating your sensitive spot. It was scary at this point how well he knew how to break you with just a few fingers. You were being unravelled by him and he continued to consume every fiber of your being without hesitation. It also didn’t help how Caleb’s eyes never left yours as he drank up every face of pleasure you made. You averted your eyes a few times before succumbing to looking into his eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in those beautiful violets and your own numbing pleasure. 

The wet sounds of his fingers fucking your tender hole was loud, as well as his moans enjoying his dinner. - ‘Princess, you taste so good… Mmm, could eat you for hours, honey. You’re being so good to me, baby.’ Your hole and your clit were never left alone as they were always receiving attention from Caleb. When he moved his mouth to your entrance and allowed his tongue to explore your soft insides, drinking up any slick that dared to leave your sobbing cunt, his fingers worked their magic in playing with your clit. And if he was attacking your clit with his soft tongue, his fingers would relentlessly fill you up. 

You could feel yourself getting closer by the second. You tried to not let it show on your face but the man who was giving you the world was Caleb - the person who always knew what you were feeling. The embarrassing sounds that you were making also became louder and more erotic, as well as how your legs were shaking - signalling how close your climax was coming. 

“Oouhh..! A-Ahhn..! C-Caleb! I’m gonna cum! Caleb, Caleb…!” You started chanting his name as if it was the only thing tying you down to staying conscious. He quickly grabbed one of your hands with his as he continued to eat you out, moaning into your cunt as he did so. - “Cum for me, baby. Give it all to me, sweetie. Give me all of you.” As you were riding out your orgasm, you tightly held onto his hand as he suckled your swollen clit and lapped up your pussy like a starved man. You began squirting, getting it all over his face and the sofa underneath you. Caleb watched you orgasm as he drank everything you - oh so graciously - offered him. After your climax, you whimpered as you felt him cleaning you up with his tongue - he licked your thighs and your swollen pussy, trying his best to get every nook and cranny that was still blessed with your juices. 

Feeling worn out from your intense orgasm, the only thing you could do was lay down and look up at the ceiling. Hell, even trying to look at Caleb was too much work. After he was done cleaning you up, he laid down next to you and snuggled with you as if nothing happened. 

“I’ll run a bath for you in a little bit, princess. But I want to cuddle first. I missed you, honey.” He said as he nuzzled his cheek against yours. You let out an exhausted sigh and gave him a peck on the forehead as you ran your hand through his soft brown locks. “Did I do good, honey? Did you feel good?” 

You chuckled. “What do you think? You could’ve done better.” You joked as you rolled your eyes. He was quiet for a moment before leaning into your ear, his breath feeling hot against it. 

“You think so? Want me to make you feel better right now then?” He said, then kissed  the shell of your ear. 

Your cheeks flushed a bright pink. You playfully pushed his face away. “I was just joking! I can’t even move right now, Caleb!” “So, you do admit that I made you feel good.” He chuckled as he pinched your nose. You scrunch your nose as you roll your eyes again, nodding. 

“I guess. Now carry me to the bathroom and put me in the tub, handsome.” 

When Caleb effortlessly lifted you up bridal style, he gently laid you in the tub after he removed all of your clothes and turned on the water. He hummed to himself as he ran his hand through the water, making sure that the temperature was just right for you. He had an obvious and huge tent in his pants, along with the wet spot from your leaky cunt from earlier as well at the top of his pants. You lick your lips as your mouth watered at the idea of taking him whole. 

You grab his arm and pull him down to your height. “Since you treated me well, how about I return the favor?” You whispered in his ear. 

He looked at you for a moment before grinning as he started to take off his clothes. “If  you’re offering, who am I to reject then, my love?”

[talkingaboutmybullshit]

I will tag the original post if i can find it but I wrote this unedited bare bones thing inspired by Jason after returning to life just fucking around in the manor bc they all assume he’s a hallucination.

Edit i think it’s by @mentallyunawareofpapaya but i cannot find the og post to link it

most often Jason was in the library. Curled up in a chair that in no way looked conferable. His nose deep into a book.

Dick made sure to avoid the library.

Jason wasn’t stuck to the library though. Dick saw him all over the manor. Sometimes he was in his Robin uniform. Dick hated seeing him in his uniform. It stood out brightly and drew his eyes to Jason immediately. The traffic lights color outfit forced him to stare at him. When he was dressed like that he couldn’t tell himself that he didn’t see Jason. He couldn’t ignore him like he usually could. That cape mocked him as it fluttered as Jason ran around corners. Being the only thing Dick saw out of the corner of his eyes. Taunting him.

Jason complained that the manor had a certain unshakable chill. Down in the cave was no better. It was a good 20 degrees cooler than the manor and had a persistent soft draft. So more often than not Jason wore his favorite sweat pants and hoodie. A black pair of sweatpants with the words wonder woman embroidered on the left side. On the right were three red, white, and blue stars. The hoodie was one of Bruce’s from his childhood from his dad’s alma mater. It was a dark blue and swallowed up Jason’s frame. It was Dick’s favorite look because Jason often blended into the shadows.

Sometimes in his Gotham academy uniform. A simple black button up, a messily done tie, some slacks dark blue slacks, and a matching blazer with the school’s crest imbedded. Though more often than not Dick spotted him in some casual blue jeans and an old red AC/DC T shirt that originally belonged to Dick. One of the first non circus clothes Bruce bought him when he was first adopted.

It no longer fit Dick not by a long shot. Hell it didn’t even fit Dick when he 13. But at 13 Jason was much smaller than Dick and the T shirt fit him. It was even a bit baggy. It became Jason’s favorite even though he had new clothes and better fitting ones. He said he liked how soft the fabric was. Stretched out from use and time. That shirt got regular use by Jason until he was 15.

He saw Jason at all ages. Sometimes he sees a toddler he’s never met toddle down the hall ways. The same dark brown mop on his head and the same sparkle in his eyes. He hears the unmistakable laugh as he sees a 8 year old Jason across the living room like he’s playing tag. He hears the unmistakable light hearted laugh of 13 year old Jason in the dinning room. He sees the turmoil of 15 year old Jason in the library.

But lately he’s been seeing the last few weeks is an older Jason.

That’s a lie actually. About a year after his death Dick saw a mid to late teens Jason wonder the streets of Gotham. The Jason he sees usually sticks to the manor. Along with the cracks between him and Bruce being bigger than ever, Jason’s presence was why he avoided the manor.

But Dick doesn’t know how this ghost/hallucination thing works so he doesnt question it much.

The Jason he sees on the streets is about 16 maybe 17. He wore a dark blue suit and roamed around like a zombie. There’s nothing behind his eyes and he never says anything. Dick often sees him at a distance. In dark alleys wondering aimlessly. This version of Jason disappears in after a few months. He chalks it up to a weird greif manifestation.

But now the Jason he sees is unlike any other Jason he saw before. He’s tall. Taller than Dick. Jason was a short kid. Even after puberty lightly hit. Jason Barley scrapped 5 foot. His doctors confirmed it was childhood malnutrition and the stress of living in the streets for so long. Even after Bruce brought him in his immune system was in a constant state of fight of flight. His body prioritized survival over actually growing.

Dick also figured the stress of being Robin didn’t help him grow but he never mentioned it.

Maybe he should have.

Maybe Jason would have grown taller if he wasn’t Robin.

Death did tend to stunt your growth.

This Jason was over 6 foot and had infinity more muscle than Jason had when he was alive. As if Jason grew up getting 3 meals a day and wasn’t in a constant fight for survival.

Despite this Jason looked the same. Even if his hair had a white strip and his eyes leaned more green than blue. Dick just knew.

He had no idea why Jason manifested like this after all this time. This hallucination/ghost/whatever the fuck in front of him was Jason at 19 or 20ish. The same age if he lived.

Dick figured it was a way to taunt him. The universe laughing at him. Whispering in his ear and saying “What if Jason was able to grow? What if Jason lived a good life? What if Jason was saved?”

This Jason usually wore casual clothes. He leaned more towards sweats. Maybe Jason was always destined to be cold.

He followed him in the alley ways of Blüdhaven, his apartment, the manor, and even the Bat cave on occasion. He swears sometimes he can feel him breathing on his neck. Like Jason is behind him peering over his shoulder.

Everytime Dick turns around he isn’t. Most of the time Jason isn’t even there. But that still doesnt make the feeling go away.

Dick knew he’d be haunted by Jason for the rest of his life.

[the-painted-siren]

Finally managed to redo all of my ninja body headcanon refs yippee! I’m especially happy because I redid their proportions and anatomy to be more accurate to how I envision them. I certainly think they all look better for it.

A metric ton of notes + Several extra characters beneath the cut! Also spoilers for Dragons Rising S2 and leaks for S3.

Jay — has the face of a movie star with a narrow jawline and thick, curly hair to go with it. Short, boxy-looking, muscular shoulders. He’s strong enough to lift heavy materials and work with stubborn mechanical pieces, but is otherwise pretty lean. Lots of freckles and lightning-like scars all over his body. The smaller ones fade with time and return when he uses his powers. (Later in DR, I headcanon that Jay figures out she’s transfem. However for this ref I’m using pre-realization Jay.)

Nya — Square face and strong features, death glare that could kill a man. Very muscular, especially around her biceps and thighs. Lots of scars and moles. Leftover markings from her time spent as the ocean (she also has sharpened teeth from the incident, like dragon fangs.) Dragon tattoo on her left arm. (Not pictured: small phoenix tattoo on her back.) Wavy hair that resembles ocean waves.

Kai — Resembles his father quite a bit, has similar sharp features. Very handsome. Hairy, jacked, very strong arms, biceps, and shoulders. Scarred hands from wielding his own fire recklessly when he was younger. Same dragon tattoo as Nya on his left arm (he got it to commemorate her sacrifice in Seabound.) Scar over right eye that he got while fighting a Serpentine. Hair that resembles flames. Top surgery scars bc he is transmasc to me.

Lloyd — Classic hero look. Soft-featured and seems very approachable, often makes his enemies think he’s incapable of great anger bc of it. Tall, stocky, jock-like build, broad shoulders and waist. Outgrew half of his team by S8 (they are still upset about this lol). Several scars and stretch marks from how quickly he’s grown over the years but the most prominent are the claw marks on his shoulder from fighting his dad. Mole on his chin bc I like projecting my physical features onto my fave characters. Originally his ears were round like the rest of his teammates but became pointed after the Oni trilogy, he used to be severely self conscious about them but later grew to appreciate them. Top surgery scars bc he is also transmasc to me.

Cole — Had an emo phase in classic-era S1/2, was also pretty slender but later put on a lot of weight. Probably the most relaxed and emotionally in touch than all the rest of his teammates and it shows in his expression and posture. Large build with lots of functional muscle- big arms, big chest, big hands and feet, you get the picture. Very hairy. Scars on his hands and arms and side of his head from his powers and time spent as a ghost. Also has some moles. Has grown his hair out very steadily over the course of his life. Top surgery scars bc he is also, also transmasc to me.

Zane — Originally, Dr. Julien built him pretty short but after S3 Pixal rebuilt him to be taller. Slender build with a strong, flexible core. Broad, sturdy shoulders. Dr. Julien designed him to be light and fast to contrast the Juggernaut, which is slow and tanky. Has similar patterns on his shoulders that Pixal has all over her body, except the dots have been replaced with snowflakes. Very human-looking. Dark eyes. Heart/core is comprised of chronosteel as given to him by the previous Master of Ice.

Pixal — The shortest. Petite. Has a very sweet and gently-looking countenance since her original purpose was to assist. Has an alternative Battle Mode body that is bigger than even Zane. She re-made the Samurai X persona to seem big, quiet, and terrifying to fight. Visible circuitry since she is overflowing with every mechanism thought possible to make her as fully functional as a human being.

Sora — average height with a rectangular build, strong arms because she’s an inventor and mechanic. Using scrapped Imperium tech, she customized the markings on her body to look like whiskers and cat stripes. She used to dye her hair pink but once she grew into her powers it became naturally pink. Two different prosthetic arms, one for practical purposes and another that looks like a cat paw for fun.

Arin — starts out pretty short but grows a lot over the course of his time training to be a ninja. It’s not pictured, but he has a growth spurt post S2 that puts him at a similar height to Lloyd (5’8”). Puts on some functional muscle as he trains. Has a few scars but the two most prominent ones are on his shoulder (from helping Sora with a project, and the other on his clavicle from getting thrown around by Ras in DR S2).

Wyldfyre — short, short gremlin. Sunken facial features. Stocky and top heavy, muscular arms and legs. Despite her height, she could suplex half the cast effortlessly. Very tanned from being out in the sun and heat her entire life. I gave her lots of freckles because I am correct. Hair is still somewhat untamable even after S2P1.

Frak — seems tall, is actually pretty small for a Serpentine. Wiry and flexible, lots of sharp edges that he’s generally very aware and particular about. Tough skin/scales, wears armor to protect his torso. Mixed Venomari and Constrictai. Receives one of Lloyd’s old gi after joining the ninja.

Euphrasia — yes, I know she’s not apart of the cast of new ninja but I wanted to make a reference for her anyway. Tiny and wispy, like a wind sprite. Unassuming and innocent-looking. Used to have shrimp-posture from how anxious and insecure she was about herself but has started to straighten out as she’s grown into her powers. Some freckles :)

Misako — very short but still fit as a fiddle. More the capable of defending herself and doing heavy manual labor, even though she doesn’t really look like it. Had a very stressful life and as a result started getting gray hair early in her years. She doesn’t mind as much now that she’s gotten so old. Has stretch marks and a slight tummy after giving birth to Lloyd.

Wu — can shapeshift to any height, chooses to look short and wide, ultimate sleeper build (this man is muscled as hell). Like Lloyd, he has a classic hero look and also seems approachable and gentle. Post Oni trilogy he keeps his ears pointed to comfort and support Lloyd with his own low self-esteem. In the early seasons, he used to be very slim and almost frail-seeming, but in S9 he grew to add on a lot of weight from subconsciously modeling himself after Cole. Has arthritis and chronic pain.

Garmadon — can also shapeshift to any height but got into a particularly petty and pointless fight with Lloyd about it one day. He chooses to be around the same height as Lloyd bc of it. Both he and Wu have dragon-like tails but prefer to keep them hidden, tho post-Crystallized Garmadon starts to wear his out more frequently. In S1/2 he was remarkably muscled and well-built, S3/4 he became incredibly focused on slimming down to fit the ninja master image, in the Oni trilogy he was reborn as being remarkably powerful and muscled again (to fit Harumi’s subconscious projection of what she thought he would look like.) By Crystallized, he’d let go of many of his responsibilities and reservations and gained a lot of weight. Still muscled, tho not as big as Wu. Has chronic pain due to so many physical transformations and a 1000+ years of service to Ninjago.

Morro — *transfems your ghost* Yeah… anyway, short and bony, strong enough to handle herself tho. Leftover scars after she dissolved into the ocean, occasionally they become translucent and show off her skeleton when she experiences powerful emotions. No longer a wind master but does now have ghost-like abilities.

Echo/Mr.E — essentially looks like a smaller, shorter, and more youthful version of Zane. Used to be very rusted and was always falling apart before Harumi helped rebuild him. Red and black color scheme to contrast Zane’s blue and white one. Has a crack over his left eyebrow after he got crushed by a billboard in Crystallized.

Harumi — Remarkably beautiful by most social beauty standards, deceptively petite. Is actually muscled beneath whatever layers she wears. In DR, she lets go a lot of her old feelings and resentments and begins healing. Cuts her hair and starts wearing warmer colors, tho she still prefers her heavy makeup and jewelry from her biker phase. Both she and Echo have a sort of crystal-like surface to their body after taking on the power of the Crystal King. Always carries a tool belt to help with repairs and odd jobs around the Crossroads.

Akita — tall by Ninjago standards, short by Formling standards. Spent a lot of her formative years struggling after her people were froze in ice, but has been healing post S-11 after being reunited with her brother and people. Her wolf form is much bigger than a regular wolf, making it easier for her to scare off packs of wild animals and tote objects or people around the Never Realm.

Pixal’s battle form in comparison to her usual form and Zane.

[mbgcreates]

Egotober Day 14: Blue

I was originally going to skip today, but since I did Celine as Red, I realized I had the perfect opportunity for Blue :3

[raynewolferune]

Meta Jazz, the Arkham Intern Therapist Pt1

Update 5/16/2024: Congrats guys, gals, and others! You have planted the seeds and they have grown. Today I wrote another 46 pages on this story (the first section was only 9 pages ya'll). I'm working on splitting it up into smaller sections so I can post it now because tumblr said no to doing it as one piece. I'll be using the tag #Meta Jazz Arkham Intern Therapist if you want to follow it.

Original Note: I'm going to go ahead and apologize for how OOC Bane is in this. It originally was Joker but I couldn't see Jazz tolerating his proximity for more than a single millisecond so Bane it is.

~*~*~

The hardest thing about being a Meta in Gotham was responding appropriately during a Rouge's attack, Jazz mused to herself. Or perhaps that was just the hardest part about being a Meta intern at Arkham while studying psychology at Gotham University. Or maybe it was just her, she considered watching the guards and Dr. Rylie whom she'd been shadowing for the past 2 weeks wide eyed, pale, and shaking as theybstared at Bane behind her. It must just be her, Jazz decided, newbie guard Kyle Jennings was definitely a Meta after all. She should probably give him some tips on hiding his enhanced strength considering how often he broke mugs, door handles, and other delicate items used in daily life.

"Weapons down or I'll snap her skinny little neck." Bane growled out, shaking her slightly for emphasis. She very much doubted that. Liminials were built different than the standard Meta, stronger, faster, better endurance, and senses even if they could mostly appear to be standard humans on the outside.  As such, their bones and muscles were much were much denser than regular humans or even Meta humans. Technically, she could be considered "invulnerable" much like the Kryptonians are.

"Back up! Let him through!" Dr. Rylie  shouted at the guards. "She's my student! Let him through!" His voice was higher pitched than she could recall hearing it before.

Ah. That was panic.

Jazz sighed involuntarily and glanced over her shoulder at Bane. Why the man had grabbed the only person close to his own height nearby was a mystery to her - no, nevermind, he clearly meant to use her as a shield - but it made looking him in the eye more difficult than necessary.

"Mr. Bane, remove your hands from my person, please." Jazz stated calmly, channeling what Danny called her inner mom as she spoke. "I will give you to one to comply."

Bane looked stunned for a moment then laughed.

"Five."

The laughing continued. Jazz could sense a stir of uncertainty through her colleagues as they looked on.

"Four."

"Did you really think that would work?" Bane snorted out, arms tensing more around her.

"Three." She continued, indifferent to his words from her experiences raising her brother. Once the count down starts you mustn't respond to anything the kids do or say until they comply or the count is done.

"What cab you even do if I don't?" Bane asked darkly breathing directly in her ear. She kept her face expressionless despite the urge to express disgust.

"Two."

"Jasmine..."  Kyle whispered halfway across the hall from her looking on with a pained and horrified expression. Gun tilting towards the floor. Sloppy.

"One." She finished and Bane gave a derisive snort.

Then she was moving. Hauling the enormous man up and over her shoulder using the arm that had been wrapped around her neck. Bane hit the cold tile hard enough that the tiles, subfloor, structural supports, and part of the concrete foundation buckled beneath him. His shoulder popped out of joint, his wrist cracked - a hairline fracture by the sound of it -  and his breath was punched out of him from the force of impact. She released his arm as soon as his was embedded in the tiles and moved forward. Kneeling over him, support most of her weight on her left foot resting on the broken ground, her right knees pressed firmly across his throat without supporting any of her weight. The position put more strain on her muscles than she would've liked but at least Bane couldn't risk fighting back without crushing his own neck in the process. He could hardly throw her while flat on his back with a mangled arm.

"Now," Jazz began, looking directly into the behemoth's pained eyes. "Do you know what you've done wrong?" She asked like she would have done with Danny as a child.

"Yes, Ma'am." Bane choked out. Jazz heard movement and murmuring behind her. She didn't turn to look.

"What did you do wrong?" She asked. It was important to make sure children correctly understood why they were in trouble after all. There was a long pause as Bane appeared to cast around for the exact right answer as if he feared getting it wrong. A bad habit Danny still uses as well, Jazz thought to herself.

"I tried to hold you hostage," He choked out in a rush, words tumbling over one another as he tried to get them all out. "I scared you coworkers and it was very disrespectful."

So he'd gone for the grab-bag response. It wasn't wrong per sey but it did indicate a past history of abuse. The type of answer given by someone who expected to be harmed or ignored if they gave the "wrong" answer. Danny tended to use that method also and their parents had always been negligent at best.

"And are you going to do it again?" She asked giving him a Look as she did. Bane's eyes widened and he tried to frantically shake his head as much as possible with the pressure on his neck.

"No, Ma'am." He promised fervently.

"Alright then," Jazz said giving him a warm smile. She gestured vaguely towards the guards without turning to look at them. "Kyle here is going to take you to see the nurse and then back to your room then. I'm sure you'll behave for him?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I'll behave." Bane said. Jazz stood slowly asking sure not to put any additional pressure on his neck as she did. Kyle came and stood next to her as the giant of a man slowly pulled himself to his feet then led him away with 5 other guards.

Jazz heaved a sigh. Well, time to find out whether or not she could play all that off as normal, non-Meta human behavior.

[bunni-v1]

Aventurine NSFW Headcannons

🍓This took me so long to get done, and I'm not 100% satisfied, but I wanted to get these out. There's so much I left unsaid, and I feel like if I kept going it would never stop. So enjoy the very basics of what I feel Aventurine is like in bed. Smaller posts are coming in the future so I can take time to work on the genshin stuff I have coming, alongside requests I plan on doing a full fic for <3

Tagging: @the-original-skipps (mwah mwah, just for you pookie)

Tw: Mentions of past sexual assault; Aventurine has unhealthy views of sex; Aventurine's past; NSFW; Pretty vanilla ngl; grammar errors

Info: Aventurine x Reader; Angst; Fluff

Word Count: 2.5k

MDNI

-Aventurine and sex do not mix well – at least, not at the start. 

-Much like love, he has a very jaded view of sexual intimacy. He was (heavily implied to have been) sexually assaulted by many different unsavory types when he was younger. His body wasn’t his own then, and the sex was brutal and unkind – something he hated.

-As he grew, both in stature and into his title of Aventurine of Strategems, his hatred of sex turned into something different. It was still hatred, he hated the act more than anything in the world most times, but he realized his body was good for something.

-Aventurine was an attractive man, despite his eyes being a less than savory feature to most people. His body was lean and lithe, his clothes and hair perfectly styled and trendy, not to mention the air of mystery he had drew people in like moths to flame. 

-All of it was crafted by his own two hands, of course. He was attractive because he wanted – no, needed to be. So, he made sure he was, of course, no one would do business with him otherwise.

-Pretty as a peacock, you could hardly tell he was once a slave or a dirty Avgin boy.

-He’s pleasantly surprised to find that the body he so hated being born into was a good business tool when he needed it to be.

-People really will do anything to get off, and as much as it disgusted him to do such depraved things, he would do whatever he had to to get what he wanted.

-He’d scrub his skin raw in the shower afterward, trying desperately to get the smell of sex off him. Hoping that if he scratches hard enough the ugly purple bruises will wash away with soap and water. They never do, and they leave him feeling vile until they fade.

-Regardless men, women, monsters – he really didn’t care what he was fucking so long as it got him what he was looking for.

-That’s what sex is to Aventurine, a transaction. He scoffs at the idea of it being anything more than that. Sex was rough and sweaty and all kinds of disgusting, how could anyone derive pleasure from that? You fuck, you cum, you say goodbye. Simple. As. That.

-Ah, but, then again you come along and you just love challenging his worldview don’t you? With your pretty little eyes and your sweet, comforting words. You always make him question himself. It would be annoying if he didn’t love you so damn much.

-Your first time with him is… incredibly unpleasant. It’s not as though he doesn’t account for you or your wants, but there’s a disconnect. He’s too… pliant and yet all too controlling. First times are rarely good, but this felt alien. Like the person you were with was not your beloved Kakavasha, but some strange man taking his place for the night.

-He’s doing things he thinks you want, he’s saying sweet words he’d whispered to hundreds of other partners, it’s all that he thinks you need, what he’s decided in his head that you’d like, rather than something that comes from knowing you.

-He doesn’t ask, he just gives and takes and then it’s over. It’s unfulfilling and empty, leaving you with a dull ache in your chest.

-He doesn’t even offer you or himself aftercare, and you find him scrubbing his skin red in the shower afterward like he was trying to rid himself of any trace of you.

-It makes you feel terrible. Like you’re some whore he’s picked up off the streets and not his long-term partner with whom he’s shared some of the darkest parts of himself.

-You cry into those expensive satin sheets, ruining them with your sniffling. It’s quite the sight for Aventurine to walk back into.

-He expected you to be asleep, or at least resting in some capacity, but crying? His heart sinks as he rushes to your side, then somehow falls further when you tug yourself away from him.

-He’s perceptive enough to realize that he had been the one to put you in such a state, but he didn’t really understand why.

-When he’s able to calm you enough to get you to talk to him, you’re able to explain that you felt so disregarded. There was no connection or love or care from him, did he not feel you were worthy of sharing that in moments of intimacy?

-That makes him sick. Never in a million years would he want to make you feel as though he does not love you, despite previous behaviors. You were his whole world, part of the reason he continued to exist. How could he ever make you feel unworthy of him?

-He nearly spirals there, but your tears are enough to remind him that he is not the one who needs love and reassurance. So, always eager to learn and grow with you, he asks you what you believe sex should be like… and it’s quite different from what he understands.

-You describe it like an extension of yourself. A means of intimacy and trust a level deeper than words and affection can get you. You are vulnerable during sex, you are at your weakest and you are sharing that with the person you love. It’s the most intimate thing you could do with a person, and while it can be fun and it can simply be because it feels good, it can also be because you love the other person so deeply you have no other way to express it.

-Aventurine finds the definition to be rather naive, but you had always been a bleeding heart. (Which he, regardless of if Kakavasha or Aventurine was leading charge, would give anything to protect). Yet… Kakavasha likes it. Kakavasha wants to do that with you, he wants to show you how much he loves you, he wants to hold you even closer and share such sweet nothings with you.

-He tries to toss it out initially because if he thought about it like that he would have to confront himself. Look that trauma in the eyes and acknowledge that, once again, you’d proven him wrong in a way he was annoyingly not expecting.

-But as the days go by and you slowly begin to become physical with him again, he wonders fondly how it would feel. Taking his time with you, he means.

-He couldn’t help but wonder how nice it would be to really feel your skin under his fingers. To kiss every inch of you, to hear you sigh his name like he crafted the heavens with his own two hands. Ah, Kakavasha won again, it seems.

-So he goes to you, like an apologetic puppy, and he apologizes for how terrible he was. How he reflected and regrets it, and he wants to try again and let you take the lead this time. 

-Despite everything, you say yes, and you allow him this second chance to redefine his worldview yet again.

-Aeons it’s life-changing sex. 

-Slow, careful, and all kinds of intimate. He’s still on top because he could not trust even you to be on top. He needed that control. But he listens to what you need, and he finds he’s very good at servicing you. Just as good as he is at spoiling you with his riches.

-You guide him to kiss you deeply, tongues tangling in a tango to a tempo only the two of you could enjoy. You show him how to leave love bites that make his spine tingle. How different parts of your body make you feel different kinds of pleasure. He gets to feel your skin beneath his fingertips, taste your very being on his tongue, and swallow the angelic cries of his name.

-It’s a kind of intimacy and affection he’d never been afforded in his life. A vulnerability he hadn’t expected himself to enjoy, and yet as he sobs into your shoulder at his release, he finds himself wanting more.

-It becomes a problem, really. One taste of it and you have both your sweet Kakavasha and the hardened businessman Aventurine absolutely addicted. In the privacy of his condo, he can lust after you all he wants. You would never deny him the pleasure of freedom, though you would tell him no after the third night in a row for your aching hips. (He will draw you a bath and book you an appointment at the finest spa he can get you into for the next day.)

-In his office, or during a meeting, or talking to the Doctor, however… that’s a problem. He wasn’t supposed to like it that much, but that intimacy had him aching through his expensive slacks. 

-He thinks about it all the time, and he’s taken to locking his office doors and keeping the blinds shut airtight for more than half the day. He hopes no one notices how many bathroom breaks he takes during meetings. He tries his best to forget the boner he popped in front of the esteemed doctor talking about finances.

-You literally have him addicted to being in love with you, it’s quite the conundrum you’ve found yourselves in… but, would you really ever want to change that? He’s very good in bed after all, so it can’t be that bad.

-Aventurine is a switch-leaning top (so sorry Aventio shippers), and I say this only because he does not like relinquishing control. Especially when he’s in such a vulnerable state, especially with his past traumas, he would rather be in charge than trust you and have you hurt him.

-He softens up significantly as time goes on, and he is more willing to allow you to service him how you please, but he never really gives up his control. There’s always a reminder that he has the say-so in what does or does not go.

-That being said he is very giving, without having to be asked he will happily do whatever you need of him. It’s just in his nature to service, those pretty little moans are all the payment he needs.

-I won’t lie and say he isn’t a tease, though. He’s incorrigible, actually. He loves to tease you, be it with his words or his actions, he loves getting you squirming beneath him.

-He’ll mumble against your throat how needy you are for him, how you’re already so worked up and he hasn’t even gotten past your clothes, how cute you are when you’re so needy for him. His fingers will graze you with such feather-light touch you’ll whine at him, and he always coos at you like a needy little thing – as if he isn’t the one tormenting you.

-He’s a fan of edging, which just comes with the territory too. He spends hours of his time building you up to your orgasm, crooking his fingers and swirling his tongue so you’re right there, and then he’ll pull away leaving you crying for more.

-It’s all worth it when he does let you cum, though. The orgasm shaking the very foundation of you, sticky fluids staining yet another pair of satin sheets. 

-That’s not even mentioning his dick, which he is just as talented with. It’s slim, the same shade as the rest of him, with an upward curve that rubs against your g-spot so very well without him having to try.

-It fits so snugly inside, and if you watch closely you can see the effect you have on him as his perfect poker face cracks just a little. He loves to feel you from the inside, it may be one of his favorite things in the world.

-You are warm and squishy and so very accepting of him, conforming to the size and shape of his member like you were made to do so. Like you were made for him and him alone, it’s a deeply romantic thought that he would scoff at if he were in a less hazy mindset.

-He’s rarely rough with you, preferring to show you how much he loves you more softly, though he can be rough upon request.

-Sometimes if you get him jealous enough he’ll be rough on his own accord, but never uncaring or unloving. Even when he has you face down, ass up he makes you feel like the most precious gemstone in the entire world.

-He likes sex slow and long, preferring if it is dragged out across multiple sessions with sweet nothings and gentle care between the breaks. 

-However, he rarely has the free time for such things, and as such he gets very good at making the most of the time that he does have.

-Because of his high sex drive, quickies are common, but they are no less fulfilling than the long sessions he enjoys having. 

-He’s adept at getting you to cum in under five minutes with his fingers, he can do it in two with his tongue thrown in, and that’s usually fast enough for him to quickly get off and get back to what he needs to do.

-Unfortunately, he isn’t the kinkiest guy. He doesn’t like tying up or being tied up, he’s not a fan of power play, roleplaying seems to turn him off (again, not a fan of power play, which a lot of scenarios include this), no hitting or degrading, and pretty much anything that could remotely involve hurting either of you is a no from him.

-He thinks for a while he’s fine with it, and he is willing to try anything once, but it only takes him one time to realize he does not like physical or mental pain. It’s not sexy, it’s traumatizing and he won’t be convinced to try it.

-He does, however, really enjoy you wearing lingerie. Lacy ones dotted with expensive stones are his favorites. Frequently you’ll find a set sent to you in pretty packaging with a little note telling you to ‘enjoy your present.’ Meaning, he wants a picture of you in it ASAP.

-Also a fan of seeing you in his clothes. If he spots you lounging about in his shirt after a long day of work, he’ll be all over you like a helpless puppy.

-Cockwarming you when he works from home is a favorite of his, liking the way you wiggle and squirm as he combs over documents. His poker face really is something impressive, you have no clue how he’s re-read the same sentence ten times as you clench around him again.

-Office sex is unlikely, purely because he doesn’t like you being anywhere near IPC headquarters if he can help it. But if you do stop by for some reason, the likelihood of him bending you over the desk and fucking you raw is about 99%. He does miss you a lot during the day, after all, you can’t shame him for indulging in his favorite treat after so long without it.

-He just truly, deeply loves you. Once he begins to have a healthy relationship with sex and associate it with you rather than the horrors of his past, it’s nothing but loving and delightful. He takes the whole idea that it is an extension of his admiration for you very literally, and showers you in his affections through sex.

[casualhedonists]

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter five)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder/violence mention (but no actual murder) , MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, lots of switching between dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, thigh riding, face sitting, degradation, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, roughhousing, eventual piv, one chapter specific dubcon scene (pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

chapter: 5/6

words: um. 9.5k (sorry? but also you're welcome??)

chapter warnings: this chapter contains a scene that falls solidly into dubcon territory, so please proceed with caution, stay safe out there.

moodboards

series masterlist

a/n: WELL. here we are, almost at the end of our little rollercoaster ride. i've lost brain cells over this chapter, almost cut it up into smaller chunks, but ended up leaving it as long as i originally planned (longer, in fact. whoops). as always, feedback is very welcome + encouraged (i love hearing/reading your thoughts as things progress) buckle up, please do take note of the dubcon warning, prepare for the angst, and most importantly, enjoy!

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

He was back to ignoring you again.

But this time, the feeling was mutual. You’d never felt as thoroughly rejected as you did the night he had you walk back to your room, legs weak, wrapped in nothing but his shirt.

Once upon a time, this scenario would have been one you dreamed of, but reality often falls flat on its face. You wouldn’t have dreamt of walking away from him like this if you’d known it would feel this empty.

Humiliation ran rampant through your body, starting with the tears you blinked away as you left his room, closing the door behind you, and then flooding over as you stepped into your own room, slumping on the bed, curling up into yourself and weeping, pressing your still aching legs together but too upset to finish yourself off.

You kicked yourself for getting carried away, for getting too loud, too possessive with his face between your thighs and your hand in his hair. For getting so caught up in the moment, briefly forgetting your games, and for believing even for a second that you would be on the same page.

This push and pull had begun to wear you thin, and you were tired. So, you slept. Until nearly midday the next morning, when Lucille knocked on your door to remind you it was time for your monthly PR debrief.

The good news, though arguable at this point, was that your arrangement hadn’t been affected by recent events. At least, not on paper. Cordelia ran you through each gala, public appearance, and dinner, barely noticing your preoccupation, rambling on about speeches, coordinating outfits, dates and times of events, what to say and how to say it.

For you - and you could only imagine, Coriolanus too - everything had changed over the span of a month. 

Your shame made you abnormally quiet, head hung low, gaze averted, nodding along as Cordelia prompted either a response or approval from you. Snow just stared, glancing at her only when completely necessary, but otherwise, he didn’t take his eyes off you.

He was enjoying this. The sick fuck. You were glad when the meeting ended and you could scamper into the library, eager to lose yourself in a story of any kind other than the one you were living.

This went on. By day, you barely looked at him; by night, you tried over and over to prove that your own fingers were enough to keep you satisfied. To convince yourself that you just wanted him, you didn’t need him.

Because if you needed him, then he called the shots. He would win. And victorious as he may seem, the game wasn’t over yet. You’d slipped up in a moment of vulnerability, he’d tricked you into a corner just to prove his point.

You wanted him, you didn’t need him. But if you did… well.

He was going to have to need you more.

You held back this time. Keeping your cards safe, close to your chest. In a strange way, you found a kind of solace in your arrangement. Recent events had caused it to feel unstable, breakable even, but the meeting had ensured that it was all still on the right track. It allowed you to take a small piece of what you wanted from him without guilt or repercussions. After all, it was planned out to benefit you both. Then, when you were ready, and with a gentle hand, you began to weaponise it, loading it up in the barrel of a gun aimed directly at Snow.

You didn't have much left, but you had this. You knew where your promiscuity had led you. This time, you wanted to pull on his heart strings. Make him feel remorse, or whatever similar emotion he was capable of. Make him soften to you. Torture him with almosts that were never enough.

So when you took, you took cautiously, tentatively. You deepened your usually light kisses to what was just past socially acceptable, only to pull back when Snow began to lean in, turning away and smiling at the people surrounding you, or full-on entering into conversation with somebody else. You'd brush your thumb against his when you held hands, waiting for him to look at you, drawing your hand away when he did. You'd offer smiles to everyone but him, talk and laugh a little louder when you could feel him watching.

You pretended he didn’t exist. You could feel him begin to simmer. It wasn't as brazen as your usual game, but it was working.

Until it wasn’t.

“Something’s wrong, what is it?”

Lucille’s face dropped, her shaking hands lowering from the zip she was struggling with. You were getting ready for a luncheon, and you’d picked out an emerald green dress, one of your favorites for daytime events.

“I’d hoped you wouldn’t notice, ma’am. I apologise. It’s my brother, he… it’s getting worse again.”

“Sit down for a second. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You listened to Lucille open up uncomfortably, visibly nervous that you would offer your financial support as you’d done before. But you didn’t, sparing her from having to turn you down.

Lucille was stubborn - she would never accept your charity. She was more than happy to work for her wages, and frequently worked longer hours. As months went by, you’d brought her pay up as high as you could without her noticing. But now things were getting more critical, and you knew there was only one thing you could do.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Go and see your brother.”

“But you’re not dressed-”

“I’ll take care of it. Go home, Lucille. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

She smiled softly.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

You’d tried with the zip, you really had. You didn’t want to have to knock on Snow’s office door with two favors to ask instead of one, but the dress was tight and the zip kept getting jammed. So, there you stood, dress half undone at the back, heart in your throat. You counted your blessings; at least it wasn’t his bedroom. You didn’t think you could face him at all in there. You heard typing from inside.

“Come in.”

You pushed the door open, feeling like an intruder.

“Sorry, I just… Could you help me with this?” Your hand tightened behind your back, holding the dress together.

He narrowed his eyes. He was already in his suit, typewriter on the desk in front of him.

“Lucille forget how to do her job?”

“I don’t need snide right now. Please, Coriolanus? I’ll explain when I’m not half naked. It’s drafty in here.”

You tried to make it clear in your tone that this wasn’t some ploy. You weren’t sure you had many of those left to offer.

“Fine.” He sighed, and stood, making no motion towards you, so you crossed the room, gripping onto the fabric, turning your back to him.

His hand came to rest on your waist as the other took the zipper, and you tried not to flinch at his touch. You pressed your lips together as he carefully zipped you up, cold metal sending a chill down your spine. Or maybe that was just him. You felt your eyes slide shut and your lips part as his hand lingered on your waist. You couldn’t hear anything but your heartbeat and the tick of his grandfather clock.

“Is that okay? Not too tight?” His breath on your neck gave you goosebumps, you hoped desperately that he wouldn’t notice.

“No, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

The second his hand fell from your waist, you missed it. You carefully met his eye; he was looking at you like you had something he wanted.

So why hadn’t he wanted you? You’d been right there, and he’d turned you down.

He cleared his throat.

“I should finish this letter before we leave. Was there anything else?”

You paused.

“Actually, there is. Could I ask you a favor?” You glanced off to the side, suddenly very interested in the knots of wood on his desk. What helped was that you'd never seen inside this room before, and you hid behind your curiosity like it was a lifeline.

“What is it?”

“It’s…” you lowered your voice, “it’s about Lucille. Her brother, actually. He’s in the hospital again. The family can’t afford the medical bills to keep him in for as long as he needs. I’d like to foot the bill, but I can’t do it anonymously. I thought… well, I was wondering if you could pull a few strings.”

You were overexplaining, something you weren’t at all used to doing, but these days, just being in the same room as him made you nervous. You stared at his desk, at the lack of photographs on it, the single pen laying to the side, the smoothness of the glaze.

It was quiet for a moment.

“Consider it done.”

You looked up.

“Really?”

“Did you think I’d say no?” He asked.

“I- no, but…”

“It’s something that matters to you.”

You blinked, dumbfounded at how simply he put it.

“Yes. It is. Thank you, Coriolanus.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll make sure it’s anonymous.”

“Thank you. Or, I mean…”

He looked at you, and you wanted to melt. Wanted to throw strategy out the window, god, but -

You couldn’t. It hadn’t worked last time. You’d hoped to avoid a stalemate, but here you were, sat right in the middle of one.

“The car’s coming in a half hour. Are you almost ready?” He asked.

“Yes. Almost.”

The luncheon was going well, at first. You were at the head of a large table, sat beside Snow, straightening your salad fork as he stood up to make a speech. You’d been glancing at him throughout the afternoon; it wasn’t so hard to anymore. It felt like his willingness to help Lucille without question, just because it was what you wanted, had more of an effect on you in five minutes than the entire week of your teasing had on him. One conversation, and the tides had changed.

As he began talking, you started to realise that your gentler approach may have been affecting you more than it had him. The party was transfixed; people loved to hear him talk, and you were proud. He had a certain way with words; you knew better than anyone. You’d fallen victim to them.

You weren’t sure why his words affected you – you’d been there, you’d agreed when Cordelia had suggested he say something nice about you in this particular speech, really make the crowd swoon, lay it on thick - but when he started to talk about you, about how proud he was to have you by his side, how strong you were-

You knew he was just reciting a script written for him, but you couldn’t help it. The tears began to quietly fall. You thanked whatever higher being was listening for not letting anyone notice.

Or so you thought.

It was just typical that out of all the people that could’ve noticed, the one person who knew better was the only one who did.

The rest of them would’ve brushed it off as you simply being moved by emotion, honored by his kind words. You blinked away your tears, taking small, polite sips of your wine. It was painful because you knew it wasn’t true. None of it was, you knew he could never say those words and mean them.

And he knew that too.

It was dark when you got home, and you trailed behind him awkwardly on your way upstairs.

“Can I have a word?” his voice was gentle, and it set you on edge.

“Sure.”

You stood awkwardly in the hallway, then he led you into the office. He leaned against his desk, and you shifted your feet where you stood, eyes on the floor, on the art on the walls, on anything other than him.

“You were upset today.” He started.

You swallowed.

“It won’t happen again, I promise.” you kept your voice steady. He paused.

“If that was my fault, I apologise. If I took it too far, if I upset you-”

You weren’t sure which part he was talking about, but you finally looked at him in a sort of distant defiance.

“Do you even care if I’m upset?”

“Of course I do. Especially when it’s something that affects you… publicly.”

You huffed, forcing yourself to stare him down.

“Because that’s all that matters, right? What the public sees?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Sure it is. It’s okay, Snow. I’m a big girl. And I can take a hint, too. So don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine. Business as usual, right?”

He just stared, puzzled. You took a breath.

“Look, it’s been a long day. Can I go, or are you going to keep me here all night?”

The silence was like smoke, clouding between you. His brow furrowed, calculating. Then he sighed, long and heavy, and you tried not to let it phase you.

“Fine. Go.”

You nodded.

“Goodnight.”

You’d never been more relieved to get away from him. Your broken walls were starting to build back up. You wouldn’t let him break you, you couldn’t. You were stronger than this.

That night, for the first time, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was truly what you wanted.

“Darling, you look ravishing.” Lilian drawled. “It’s a pity Snow is so far across the room, and can’t appreciate you. If I dressed half as nicely as you did, perhaps my dear husband wouldn’t be screwing the maid.”

A scandalised chorus of giggles erupted from the group. It was a pretty dress, one of your best. Long and smooth black fabric, ruched at the waist, with a deep cut up the leg that was just acceptable for an evening gala. You stood tall, champagne glass in hand, gossiping with your friends.

Well.

Friends was being generous. You kept few true friends, and they would hardly be gossiping in a circle like this.

Acquaintances was a better fit. Pawns if you were being brutally honest. Politicians’ wives, senators’ mistresses, a chancellor’s daughter or two. Pieces of chess, really, in this bigger game. Anyone who could help you climb higher, whisper carefully spun words into open ears at your whim.

“I just know George would rip that dress off me the moment I got home. He might not even be able to wait, and just pull me into a closet here instead.”

Another eruption of giggles.

“Well, I’m flattered, my darlings.” You smiled. “This is one of my favorites. Coriolanus treats me well.”

“I’m sure he does,” a suggestive glance from Lilian, “in all the ways one would expect, I assume?”

You gasped in mock modesty.

“Lilian,” you drawled, “I certainly hope you’re not suggesting I disclose our-”

“Oh, just tell us dear, please. We’re all dying to know. You’re always so coy about it. What’s he like?”

You pulled your lips into a knowing smile, your perfectly painted face helping you slide into this facade. You scanned your eyes across the ballroom, across to Snow. He stood talking to a group of men, colleagues of his. You recognised their faces.

It had been four days since the luncheon. Four days since your outburst. Four days of hiding away. You’d been dreading tonight’s gala, but it gave you an excuse to dress nicely, and as soon as you’d arrived, you and Coriolanus has gone your separate ways.

“Well,” you hummed, masking your uncertainty as anticipation, “he can be a slight tease.”

A few dramatic gasps sounded through the group, and you turned back to face them, their eyes wide and expectant.

“Salacious. Do tell.” Another voice piped up with a giggle.

“He can be fun to toy with. I do enjoy pushing back, but sometimes he takes it… a little far.” You said carefully.

“My, who would have known? But you get what you want, my dear, surely.” Lilian asked.

You smiled, glancing back at him, suit pristine with a white rose in his breast pocket. You hated how good he looked. He was smiling politely at the group of men around him, but you could tell from the tick in his jaw that something was bothering him.

“Sometimes, I do. Others, I wait for my chance to push his buttons right back.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that? I don’t suppose,” she pressed, “that you’re in one of those… entanglements at the moment?”

“Lilian, darling, you know I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Another giggle sounded from the group.

“Oh, my.” Lilian repeated, glancing between the two of you. “I do hope you’ve been making him suffer.”

“Well, I’m playing a longer game this time, so I’m afraid there hasn’t been as much fun lately.”

Lilian sucked in a breath, like the perfect idea had just dawned on her.

“Well, I see no moment like the present. You’re here, you’re dressed marvellously, I propose you walk right over there and show him just what he’s missing.”

A chorus of yes and do it and we’ll cheer you ons rang out. Loosened by the champagne, you looked across the room at him again. You could do it. He wouldn’t be able to react, it would be the most perfect torture. You suddenly decided that you were done making small moves, done playing it safe like this was some schoolgirl crush. It was time to step up to the mark again. Take your power back.

Your group could sense the newfound determination in you. You smiled, slow and cunning.

Show him what he’s missing.

Simple. It’s what you did best.

“Watch and learn, ladies.”

A hush fell over the group as they watched you run a hand through your hair, handed your glass to one of them, and pressed your lips together. Before you’d left the house you’d added a swipe of red lipstick, dark red, almost bloodlike. It always made you feel more confident and tonight, you needed the pick me up.  

The middle of the ballroom was practically empty; the dancing was over, and everyone had long since gathered in groups to the sides. So you turned heads when you stepped out, the only one on the floor, black satin hugging your frame like a second skin. You didn’t look at them, you made a steady beeline to Snow. You felt more and more eyes on you as you crossed the room, heels clicking on the floor. They all watched, waiting for… something. Coriolanus didn’t look up until you were a mere few steps away, now deep in some conversation he was going to forget very shortly.

Blue eyes flashed to yours with a confused apprehension, but you didn’t give yourself time to think about the twitch of his brow, or the looks on the faces of his colleagues. You didn’t think about the way he opened his mouth as if to say something, only for it to be swallowed away.

You didn’t think about any of that.

Because your lips were on his.

Hot and hungry, teeth clashing, your hand grabbing the back of his neck as he leaned in, surprised at first, then warm, wanting. Lips tugging at yours like he was starving.

It was sinful.

You’d never been kissed like this before. Your fuzzy brain wondered how you’d gone through life not knowing what this felt like, the press of his lips devouring yours, heated and messy.

He kissed you like breathing, like you were his oxygen supply. His hand slid to your waist and pulled you in, and you heard the echoes of chuckling coming from around you, morphing into a few light claps.

Then, just as you felt him fully melt into you, your hand slipped higher to the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of perfect platinum curls, and tugged.

It was nothing but an affectionate display to the people surrounding you, but a brazen reminder between the two of you. It was your way of showing you hadn’t forgotten, that you wouldn’t be made to feel ashamed, to cower in a corner while he got the better of you.

Not in this lifetime.

The second it happened, his breath hitched, and his hand tensed on your waist. You were the only one who caught it, getting high off the satisfaction, finally pulling away.

You weren’t sure you’d ever seen a prettier sight; his blown-out eyes, his face stained with scarlet.  

How’s that for tasting your own medicine.

Watching him attempt to collect himself was sweeter still. Watching him reset his face into one of distant amusement. He let out a small laugh, glanced at the rest of the party.

“Everything alright, doll? Had a little much champagne, perhaps?”

His colleagues chuckled, but you didn’t look their way. You stood your ground. Offered a sweet smile, but he could see your slyness.

“Oh, I’m swell. And I think I’ve had just enough, actually. I’m gonna go freshen up.”

You turned on your heel and made your way through winding halls to the bathroom, riding an adrenaline high. You picked up a glass from a server’s tray along the way – the champagne had dried out, all they were serving now was posca, which while disgusting, worked a treat to take the edge off. It wasn’t long before the door swung open and you saw Coriolanus appear behind you in the mirror.

“This is the ladies’ room, handsome.” You looked away, continuing to reapply your lipstick.

He stepped closer.

“What was that kiss about, sweetheart?” Straight to the point.

“Nothing.” You shrugged.

“Didn’t feel like nothing.”

“That’s called acting, Snow.”  You rolled your eyes, vaguely aware that your words sounded a little jumbled. You put the tube of lipstick away. “We had an audience. A rather expectant one at that.”

He folded his arms.

“I don’t like it when you catch me off guard like that. Not with people around.”

“Seemed to like it plenty to me.” You mumbled.

He didn’t answer, pacing past you to the other sink, grabbing a towel and wiping it against his face, where the red had stained his skin. It only served to spread it around further, and if you weren’t already smugly entertained by the marks you’d left on him, now it was just plain funny.

He glared at you when you laughed.

“Don’t give me that look. Here,” you offered, stepping across to him, taking the towel and wetting it, “let me.”

You wiped at a patch, but he snatched the towel back and took over.

“No, you’re rubbing it too hard. It’s-” he glowered at you – “fine. Do it your way.”

You went back to lean against your sink and took another sip of posca, admiring the ornate decorations in the room. A little excessive, a little new money for your tastes.

There was a rap on the door.

“President Snow?”

“Just a minute.” He said coolly.

“You’re in a mood tonight.” You remarked, and he huffed.

“Running a country can get exhausting. Don’t expect you to understand.”

“Right.” You said flatly. “Because I’m just a brainless pawn like everybody else.”

He looked over at you, at the drink in your hand.

“How many of those have you had?”

You shrugged again, and he tossed the towel into the sink, walking over to you.

“Answer me.” His voice was stern, and for a second, you soaked it in, drenched in the danger as he approached, closing in. Your tongue slipped out to wet your lips, and your eyes followed his as he moved to stand in front of you.

“Shame you don’t have someone to let all that frustration out on, isn’t it? Sounds like that could be helpful.”

His eyes pierced yours.

“Doll-”

“I’m just saying, it’s a pity you don’t.” You moved to bring the glass to your lips, anticipating the burn in your throat, but he gently stopped your hand.

“Okay, that’s enough.”

“Posca? It’s my first glass.” You smiled, eyes batting.

“You know what I mean. I think you should stop.”

You looked at the glass, then back at him, and pried your hand away, slowly and pointedly taking another sip.

“Sweetheart.” He warned.

“What, are you punish me? Gonna make me beg for you then kick me out again? Already did that once.”

He gave an incredulous half-laugh.

“That’s what this is about? You’re not really going to be mad about that forever, are you?”

“That depends. How long is forever?”

The door knocked again, and he worked the glass out of your hand.

“Drink some water. Sober up. We’ll talk about this when we get home.”

You sighed, heading for the door, but glanced back at him, his face still a stained mess. You brushed a finger against your own cheek to mirror his.

“You missed a spot.”

You sat in silence in his office, feeling a little like a schoolchild caught misbehaving. His typing was the only sound in the room. The seat was low; almost as if it was there to point out his authority over anyone who sat in it. Knowing him, it probably was.

He’d managed to clean off the rest of your lipstick, but his face looked rubbed raw, uncomfortable. A tall glass of water sat on the desk in front of you.

“Thought you said we’d talk.”

“Not until you finish that glass. I’m not talking to you inebriated.”

“Seriously?”

He shot you a look from behind his typewriter.

“Fine. Whatever.” You reached for it and took a few sips. He looked back down again. A few folders cluttered the desk, and in your boredom, your eyes scanned them. They looked complicated; legal.

“What are you writing there anyway? Or am I too dumb to understand?”

He offered another unimpressed glance.  

“It’s a new bill I’m trying to pass. Except apparently, I’m the only one around here with their head screwed on enough to work on it.”

You waited as Snow pushed the typewriter’s lever, carriage sliding the page as he began writing the next line. You sipped your water.

He sighed. “One day I won’t have to mingle with these idiots anymore. They’ll just listen to me, and obey.”

You took that in.

“Do you feel that way about me?”

He studied you for a second, and stopped typing.  

“No. Not really.”

“But you wish I’d be more… compliant.” You stared at the floor.

“Not necessarily.”

“You sure? Didn’t seem to like it the other night.”

His eyes narrowed. Knowing this conversation was a game of chess like any other. But lately the stakes were higher than ever.

“Never said I didn’t like it. Just that you were out of line.”

“And where is that fucking line?” You snapped. “I’m serious, Snow, because we’ve never talked about it.”

“You want to talk, all of a sudden? Okay, sweetheart. Fire away.”

You put the glass down on the table, heavier than intended.

“I just don’t understand you, Coriolanus. I mean, first you don’t want me, then you do want me, then you don’t again. And now what? I don’t know what I’m supposed to think when you don’t give me anything to go off.”

He watched you carefully, and you wanted to shake him, to scream, anything that would give you answers. You stood, unable to sit still, and started pacing.

“You know what’s worse? I don’t even know if you want me here anymore. I don’t know how to act around you because I never know what you’re thinking. At first I thought all this, the whole push and pull, was just some control thing. But-” you laughed, airy and insane, “you know what I realised? You’ve had me fooled, Snow. All this time I thought we were equals, but now I think I finally realise.”

He frowned, waiting for you to continue.

“You pay for my company, if you think about it. We trade services, don’t we? You get something from me, I get something back. I live in your house, eat your food, wear nice clothes. At the end of the day, that’s just it, isn’t it?”

“What?”

You shrugged, tears filling your eyes as bitterness took over, so strong you could almost taste it.  

“I’m no better than a whore myself.”

You’d never heard a louder silence. If that hadn’t just taken everything out of you, you’d have begged him to say something. Instead, you just stared, eyes blurry with tears, as he seconds seemed to stretch into minutes, and you gave up trying to read his mind, because his expression was indecipherable.  

After what felt like hours, he took a long breath.

“Sit down.”

You glanced at the floor, then took a step towards your chair. He stopped you.

“Not there. Here.” He nodded at the desk in front of him, and you swallowed thickly, stepping around the desk, getting awfully close to him, and pulling yourself onto the desk, legs pressed together. He stood, looking down at you. 

“That’s really what you think of yourself?” He asked, voice steady and controlled.

You kept your eyes averted.

“Am I wrong?”

He lifted a hand and brushed his fingertips against your jaw, tipping your head up to look at him. And when you looked at his eyes, you knew exactly what he was feeling. He wasn’t hurt, or upset.

He was mad.

“Tell me something. What do you think I’d do if I heard someone talking about you that way?

“I don’t-”

“I’d have them executed. And you expect me to stand by and let you talk about yourself like that?”

You felt a tear spill down your cheek.

“I don’t know, Coriolanus, you tell me. Am I disposable to you?”

“Of course not."

“But you’d replace me if I left.”

“What makes you think I’d let you leave in the first place?”

A chill caressed your spine.

“That’s right. I’m keeping you here, doll. If I made you doubt that, I apologise. But you’re no whore. Though sometimes, I…” He trailed off.

“What?”

His eyes were on your lips again, hungry. You wondered how someone could switch from distant to depraved and wanting this quickly.

“Sometimes I wish you were. Because it’d make it a lot easier for me to take what I want. If you were, then I’d have no hesitation in ripping your clothes off right here. Fucking you on my desk, or up against the wall, not caring if you cum. Not caring if you enjoy it. If you were a whore, I’d have fucked you in every room in this house, twice over. I wouldn’t let you sleep.”

His hand was on your thigh, the now-creased fabric of your dress crumpling as it slid up. You weren’t sure when your eyes had fallen shut, your hot breath mixing with his as his thumb rubbed against your skin.

Your voice was pathetically quiet.

“Then why don’t you?”

He sighed, tone shifting into something tense, something you could cut through with a knife.

“Because you’re fucking impossible, you know that? I can barely think when you’re around. I don’t know where the games begin or end. I don’t… I don’t understand this power you have over me. I thought you knew, you must know that you’re under my skin. I don’t know if you’ll ever stop playing with me. It drives me fucking insane.”

You opened your eyes, hand gripping his wrist and pulling it from your thigh. You slid off the desk and took a step away from him.

“You think I’m playing with you? The only time you pay an ounce of attention to me is when you’re trying to fuck with my head, Snow. I said my piece, you heard me and you still didn’t care. So please, for both our sakes, stop torturing me. Just… come find me when you decide you want me again, okay? Let’s leave it at that.”

You made for the door, which you slammed with such an impressive force that it even took you aback.

You replayed his words in your head that night until you fell into a deep sleep, and when you woke, you felt like your dreams made more sense than he did.

“Tigris!” you exclaimed, catapulting into the blonde’s arms. The people who stood scattered around you in the manor’s large ballroom spun their heads around at your display. A few even dodged to the side as the momentum that you’d built running down the stairs nearly knocked her over.

A few days of silent glances and fewer exchanged words had passed. And now, you were just happy to be hosting in the comfort of your own home, and to finally see Tigris again. You wondered if she noticed how you hugged her, if she wondered - like you did - if you’d ever let go.

“I’m so happy you’re here. How’s your Grandma’am?”

“She’s quite well, she’s sorry she couldn’t make it. You look beautiful as ever. It’s been too long!”

“I know! I don’t think I’ve seen you since your birthday, which makes me the worst friend ever.” You groaned, scrunching up your face in shame.

“It’s okay! I know busy Coriolanus keeps you with all these functions. You must be going out of your mind by now. How are you holding up?”

The two of you walked to the edge of the room, where prying eyes had settled down after your greeting.

You looked at Snow, stood across the ballroom, dressed in a pristine suit with a champagne glass in hand, talking to yet another group of men who worked for him – ministers and such, a little higher ranking than the group from the other night – and spared you the occasional glance. As if he was keeping tabs on you. It wasn’t long before Tigris caught on and politely inquired.

“I don’t understand him, Tigris. I think he hates me.” You sighed.

“What? No, he could never. He has a soft spot for you, really, and I have it on good authority.”

“I’m not so sure anymore. I think I’ve pushed it a little far this time. I think… maybe we both did. I’m in uncharted waters, here.”

“Look, I know I don’t know all the ins and outs of how this thing between you works, but I don’t think he could ever hate you for doing anything. Coryo – I mean, Coriolanus, he does care, contrary to popular belief. It’s just that his way of showing it can get a little…”

“Fucked?” You offered, and she laughed.

“Yes, exactly. Now, I’m not going to lie to you and say that he’s an angel on earth, he’s had to do things to get to where he is now. Things that even I don’t know the extent of, and they’ve… changed him.”

You rarely got the chance to speak with Tigris alone these days, with Snow usually playing chaperone, or keeping one or the both of you busy, but it had always been easy to slide right back into conversation with her like you’d never been apart.

You’d first met Tigris at a Plinth gala years ago, on the same day you’d met Snow. The two of you had talked and laughed and she had an easiness around her, she wasn’t shallow and judgemental like a lot of the girls you’d grown up with, though you never knew why until many months later. Snow had placed a large wall between his life before the Plinth endorsement, and after. Few people knew the conditions he’d grown up in, but after countless hours with Tigris, you’d begun to assemble small pieces. Despite your closeness with her, you knew from her warnings that Snow had a sort of temper when it came to this topic, so you approached it with caution.

“Changed him how?” You inquired, finally.

“Well… It wasn’t always fancy balls and lunches with him. It never was, with any of us, as you know, but especially for him. He’s… had a different experience. Grandma’am and I, we’ve known hard times, but we haven’t seen what he’s seen. Not even close.”

“What kind of things?”

She glanced over her shoulder, making sure nobody was hovering.

“He’d kill me for telling you.”

“You know I won’t say a word. But you don’t have to tell me, if it’s too much to ask.”

 She took in a breath, and sipped her drink, voice dropping to a whisper.

“This stays between us, okay? Coriolanus has… been out there. In the districts, I mean. Before all this. And I can’t go into detail, he’d have my head if I…”

You swallowed.

“The districts? But… why? I don’t-”

“Tigris, lovely to see you, it’s been so long.” A male voice interrupted, and you quickly excused yourself, slipping away to let the two of them talk.

After mulling it over in your head and making small talk with a few more guests, you snuck out of a side door and into the hallways, winding upstairs until you were finally met with Snow’s bedroom door. The sound of voices and music a mere echo below you, you pushed tentatively, and stepped inside. It was strange, being in there alone, for the first time since he’d turned you away. But you paced the floor, looking for something, anything, that would answer the questions you had. Why the districts? Why couldn’t Tigris tell you what had happened there?

Glancing back at the door, you began thumbing through his closet, peeking inside drawers. You’d already given his room a once over, but you worked more meticulously this time, every corner you unsuccessfully turned over only fuelling your curiosity. You walked around the room again, getting frustrated.

You headed back to the door, scanning the place, and retraced your steps a third time. Knocking a little on cupboards and anything that appeared the slightest bit odd or out of place. It was a perpetually tidy room, neat as ever, save for the desk which contained folders you were sure weren’t for your eyes, but that didn’t stop you. You kept on, trying your best not to leave any stone unturned, and most importantly, trying not to move anything out of place.

Eventually, you moved to the smaller desk drawers again, rifling through them haphazardly, annoyed by the lack of evidence you were finding. One of the two drawers had very little inside it, just a pencil and a pocket dictionary, and as you pushed your hand further inside to feel for anything else, you noticed it felt smaller than the first. Shallower. When you knocked, it was hollow.

It had a false bottom.

Your father used to keep his cigars beneath one of these when you were growing up, so you knew what to look for. You felt around the edge until you touched a small, metal handle, then emptied the drawer, hooked your fingers into the handle and pulled. You frowned at first, there was less in the hidden compartment than there was above it. But you peered inside, and there lay two items: an old photograph, and a silver dog tag.

Suddenly, it all made sense. His efficiency, his drive, his orderliness.

Military. The districts. The dog tag.

You unfolded the photograph, caked in a layer of dust, and it hit you like a ton of rocks.  

Coriolanus was a peacekeeper.

But why? When? And why keep it a secret?

In the photograph, his hair was buzzed, and he was in a uniform you recognised immediately; if only because of the annual reaping ceremony shown in every building in the Capitol. He was standing next to a boy with dark hair, also buzzed. You recognised him as Sejanus Plinth, you’d never met the kid but you’d been to his funeral with your family, and had seen enough pictures to know.

You knew that the Plinth family had backed Coriolanus’ education, that he became their new heir, a protégé of sorts, but not that he’d been friends with their son. Not that they’d been this close, at least. They weren’t smiling in the photo, stood pin straight and alert in what looked like barracks.  

You folded the photograph and placed it back where you found it. Your hands lingered on the dog tag, though, despite the logical side of your brain screaming at you to put it back, leave the room and pretend you didn’t see this. But the louder part egged you on as you pulled it out of the drawer, examining the engraved words, running your hands over the name SNOW and, further down, DISTRICT 12.

You’d heard bedtime stories from your mother while growing up, about the war, the Hunger Games and why they existed, and why it was never safe to set foot in the districts, not even the richer ones.

They’re beneath us, she’d said. They’re dangerous. Barbaric. And 12 was notoriously the poorest, most dangerous of them all.

Coriolanus had now become more of an enigma to you than ever before, and a thousand new questions flooded your head.

You closed the drawer halfway, holding the chain, pulling out a chair in front of the mirror to sit down. You turned the tag over in your hands, as if it would start giving you the answers, if only you looked hard enough.

Why was he sent to 12? Why couldn’t he talk about it?

Despite the conditions Snow grew up in, there was respect behind his family name. It didn’t make sense why someone of his social standing and education would leave to be a peacekeeper, of all things, and in 12, of all places. A strange sort of pity filled you, wondering what he could’ve seen out there. What he could’ve done. It all drew you in as you got lost in a world of what ifs.

Despite yourself, you pushed your hair from your neck, and as if in a trance, wrapped the chain around it. It fell heavy and cold against your skin, sending a chill through your bones. You were so busy staring down at it, so lost in thought that you barely noticed the sound of the door pushing open. Or the floorboards lightly creaking. Or his reflection in the mirror. You didn’t notice any of that, until the door swung shut with a bang.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Coriolanus had had a long day, most of which he’d spent simmering over work and you. He’d kept his eye on you that evening; on the way you’d thrown yourself into Tigris’ arms, and talked, transfixed, and he hated not knowing what was being said. A strange feeling set in as he saw the two of you get deeper into conversation from the other side of the large room, a deep-seated uneasiness stirring him up as he drowned out the tales of his associates’ incompetence. It felt like a breath of relief when he sent someone your way to interrupt whatever talk you were having, pretending that Tigris had been looking for him earlier. He focused on your brief tour of the room when the distraction worked, eyes flitting around like you were preoccupied.

When he saw you dart away from the ballroom and up one of the stairwells, he followed you as soon as he got the chance.

He’d wondered if you might act up today, but this wasn’t what he was expecting. When he saw you, the all too familiar glint of silver around your pretty neck, something shifted in him. Something he’d done a very, very good job of keeping at bay during his first few years of presidency.

Rage.

Your eyes met his in the mirror.

“Coriolanus, I-”

His hands were on you before you could finish your sentence, hauling you out of the chair, fingers wrapped in a death grip around your arms, squeezing as he pushed you to the wall with a satisfying thud.

“What, you can explain? I highly doubt that.”

“I’m sorry, I just-” You gasped as he squeezed tighter, gripping your wrists.

“Do you even know what this means?” He seethed, dog tag pressed between his fingers, chain pulling at your neck.

The forest. The birds. The gunshots that deafened him for weeks.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry. I never knew you were a peacekeeper, Coryo, I-” He flinched, saw the way you winced the second it passed your lips.

Snow may have been cold, but his eyes were fire. And you were only stoking it.

“So I’m Coryo now? Who the fuck told you call me that? Was it Tigris? I saw you talking to her, don’t lie to me.”

“No.” You shook your head. “She didn’t tell me anything, I promise. Please. It was just me.”

He moved in closer, eclipsing you altogether, grip on the chain so tight he was certain you’d be able to feel it pinching the back of your neck, digging a mark into your flesh. He let the sadistic part of his brain take delight in it, in the way your eyes widened, face pleading.

Whatever this game was between you, you’d gone too far this time.

“How did you find this?” He snapped.

You were crowded against the wall, unable to move. Tears started to brim, and you didn’t answer, he wasn’t sure you could. You just shook your head over and over, repeating I’m sorry like a broken record.

“Take this off. Now. Take it off.” He ordered, dropping it back to your chest, stepping away a little so you could lift your shaking arms over your head, removing the chain. He snatched it from you, gripping it in his palm, looking down at it, and you breathed out in relief.

“I didn’t mean to… I was just looking. I had so many questions. I didn’t know what I’d find.”

“And? Are you fucking satisfied now?” His voice chilled you to the bone as he looked up at you again.

You shook your head. Apologised again. Wished you could apologise in any way that would matter, but it was too late. You’d never been more afraid in your life, anticipating what might happen, remembering echoes of rumors you’d heard, of Snow poisoning his enemies, of sending them to hang. Some you knew to be true, but others you boiled down to rebel gossip.

Now, you weren’t so sure. These were the eyes of a man who’d dropped his mask, and it was like staring into a dark void. You could get lost in it, and never find your way back.

“Please. Don’t… I won’t tell anyone, I promise. You can trust me.”

He scoffed.

Stupid girl. Hadn’t you learned by now, that trust meant nothing?

“Like I trusted you in here? I don’t think so. Can’t believe you had me feeling sorry for you. Probably just made it up so you could lower my guard then turn around and stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“I didn’t, Coriolanus, I swear.” You pleaded. You were crying, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I’ve been very patient with you, little girl. But this is where I draw the line. You have no idea how far you’ve pushed me. And you don’t even realise it, you’re so caught up in your little crush. Do you know how easy I’ve been going on you? The things I’ve let you get away with… I’ve killed people for much less.”

“You’ve…” You trailed off, barely hearing your own words, barely processing a thing. He laughed, low and dark.

“Does that scare you, sweetheart? Does it make you afraid?”

Eyes frozen open, you just stared. You felt your jaw go slack.

“Good.”  

Coriolanus toed an invisible line, one that had never been crossed before. You wanted him to show you he wanted you? Fine.

He looked down at the chain wrapped around his fist, but he didn’t pocket it, or place it to the side. He unwound it, and slowly pulled it over his own neck.

Your eyes dropped to where it sat in stark contrast, heavy and shining, garish against his fancy dress shirt. You felt your blood run cold.

“Get on your knees.” You heard him say. Your eyes darted back up.

“What?”

When he spoke, it sounded like someone else was talking. Someone you didn’t know at all.

“You heard me. Get on your fucking knees. Right now.”

What could you do? This was what you’d wanted. Just… not like this. Not when your hands were shaking in fear, and you had no idea what this Coriolanus was capable of.

Your head said yes; your heart wept. But you were far past listening to your sorry heart.

So, you obeyed. Legs all but giving in as you lowered yourself to the ground, knees meeting cold hardwood as the chill cut through your dress.

His fingers slipped under one of the straps.

“Take this off, baby.” He murmured, distant, like he wasn’t all there. Your head hung in shame, eyes on his feet as you pushed the straps from your shoulder, top half of the dress falling down. You heard his zipper slide down, and you shivered. No longer sure if it was in fear or anticipation.

“Head up. Look at me. Good,” he said, when you obliged, “now let’s see what this pretty mouth’s really good for, shall we?”

More tears welled up as his hand brushed your jaw, hooking a thumb to your bottom lip, pushing your mouth open. You couldn’t help the way your tongue grazed over it, tasting salt, whining when you realised it was the taste of your own tears. When your eyes fell open again, you finally caught a look at him, hard and tip weeping, and your brain filled with nothing but want, eclipsing your fear for a mere second, enough to bring Coriolanus to the ground again. He may have done terrible, unspeakable things, but he was still a man. A man who wanted you.

And why did that make your heart beat out of your chest? It thrummed like a hummingbird as you took in the sight of him, unbuttoning his shirt as he waited for you to move.

You’d seen how big he was from a distance. You’d felt him between layers of fabric, and you’d imagined this a million times over. But now, as he stood waiting in front of you, you hesitated, because it all finally felt real. Your mouth watered despite yourself, seeing the mess he’d already made, any more and he’d start dripping -

“Go on, sweetheart. It’s not gonna suck itself.”

Your eyes squeezed shut as you let him past your lips. The heady taste of precum filled your mouth as you ran your tongue along the shaft slowly, trying to start steady. He wasn’t having it. His hand twisted through your hair, pulling you in closer, making you gag a little. You instinctively lifted a hand up to his thigh to brace yourself, and he laughed.

“Giving up so soon? Thought you’d try harder than that.”

He pushed further, and the indignant sound you made as you adjusted only served to spur him on.

You tried to focus on breathing through it, but he slipped in and out your mouth unevenly, and faster than you could think, catching you off guard. He looked down at the way your mouth struggled to take his length as if you were a piece of art, like he was mesmerised by it, and that feeling was encouragement was enough to keep you going. His hand twisted harder in your hair, making a fist, and he swore when you hummed in discomfort.

“Look at you.” He said, strung-out and shaky. “You strut right in here from your silver spoon life, and think you can call the shots? You’ve bitten off more than you can chew, sweetheart. You have no fucking idea what the world is really like. What people are like. What they have to do to survive.”

He moved faster, and you let your jaw go slack. You were barely moving now, he was starting to fuck your throat like he owned it. You’d started to cry again, and when you looked up at him, it was a blur. The furthest you could see was his chest, shirt unbuttoned and falling to the sides, and the dog tag, silver catching in the low light, swinging against his chest as he moved. You closed your eyes again, trying to go somewhere else in your head. Trying to breathe through your nose, to focus on being used, on how good you were making him feel, on finally being his. It was all you had left to hold on to.

But he was unwinding you with his words, knowing just where to press to make it sting, to make the tears fall harder.

“You don’t have any fucking shame about it either. Touching yourself on my bed and wearing my clothes, like you’re – fuck, that’s it - like we’re married or something. Like you’re worth more than everyone else. But look at you. Maybe you were right after all. Maybe you are my whore.” he gritted out.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you tried desperately to catch your breath between sobs.  

“I mean, you sure look like it now, on your knees for me, making a mess of your pretty face. So fucking good. You’re sucking me off better than she did, and you’re barely even trying.”

You hated it. Hated the way his thumb brushed painfully gently against your cheek, dusting away a tear as his cock bruised the back of your throat and you tried not to gag around him. Hated the way his words twisted around in your head, and how fucked up it was that your broken brain took it as praise instead of punishment.

Most of all, you hated the throb between your shaking legs, panties soaked through and probably ruined. Humiliation seeped through you as you imagined it dripping down your legs and onto the floor. Your salty tears spilled down your face, mixing with your spit and his precum. Hating every second, until your head went blank, and you didn’t feel much of anything anymore.

You weren’t sure exactly how it happened.

One second, he was pulling your hair, twitching in your mouth and spilling down your throat, and the next, in what felt like a flash, you were on the floor, loud, wrecked sobs spilling out of you as you held your knees to your chest, face hidden. He was on the floor too - when did he get down? - and his voice was soft, oh so soft and gentle, saying something you couldn’t quite make out, dull and repetitive past your ringing ears.

“- so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I know I - I didn’t… I took it too far. Can you hear me, sweetheart? Look at me. Please, look at me. I’m right here.”

You pulled your head from your hands, and through blurred eyes, you looked at him.

This wasn’t a face you’d seen on him before. His brows knitted, lips apart as he stared at you, like you were some wounded animal he wanted to save.

“Talk to me, sweetheart. Please.”

“I can’t…” You trailed off.

“You can tell me.”

Another wave of choked back sobs took over you. He held your jaw up like you were something breakable. Like maybe you’d broken already, and he was holding you together.

“I can’t do this.” You whispered. “Not like-”

He nodded, brushing a tear from your cheek.

“Okay. It’s okay, baby. Tell me what I can do for you. Just say the word.”

You caught your breath, and he flinched a little as you collapsed into his arms. The cool metal of the dog tag pressed into your cheek.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You cried.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t realise how far I’d pushed you until… I know I can’t make it up to you, but I’ll try. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. If you want to leave, I understand. I’ll make the arrangements.”

“What? No, that’s not…”

He cut you off, looking into your eyes.

“Decide tomorrow, okay doll? You don’t have to think about that now.”

“I didn’t know about… about the districts.” You hiccupped. “About you. You didn’t want me to know. I ruined everything, I-”

“Listen to me. It doesn’t matter anymore, I promise you. It’s okay, baby.”

You nodded into his chest.

“Here.” He leaned away from you, and you looked up in a question. He took the chain from his neck and placed it in your palm.

“You can have it. So long as nobody sees. You can throw it away, wear it around the house, whatever you want. It’s yours.”

You pressed it between your fingers. It cooled your hot skin like a salve.

“Thank you.” You whispered. Your head sank back onto his chest, and when you spoke again, it was barely audible.

“Coryo?”

He tensed for a second, but relaxed again just as quickly.

“Yeah?”

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

His hand brushed gently against your hair, and you relaxed into it.

“Of course you can.”

a/n: baby's first dubcon scene!! (screams cries and throws up bc navigating that was scary as fuck) p.s one more chapter left!! do we think they'll get their shit together?? who knows!! (i know)

taglist: @superchatnoir07 @itsrainingreid @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii @tqmqkii @not-avery @natsgf @sleepysongbirdsings @hopebaker @darknight3904 @pemberlystateofmind @bxtchopolis @real-lana-del-rey @24kmar @louweasleymalfoy @m1ndbrand @coconut-dreamz @cosmicgyral @urfavevirgoo @mk15x @theamuz @ashy-kit @violante777 @snowlandstop @badbleep88

(more tags in the reblogs/comments)

if you’d like to be tagged, pls comment on the series masterlist (helps me keep track of everyone!!) 💌

[diariesofthelover]

A New Regular

synopsis: After his favorite bookstore in Gotham went out of business, Jason had to find a new one that he’d actually like. He decided to check out one a couple blocks down from his apartment in hopes that it’ll be a decent replacement, when he goes in he finds something worth coming back for.

notes: Jason Todd x reader, 3rd person pov, reader works at a bookstore.

Of course Jason’s favorite bookstore went out of business. It was a small store tucked away in one of Gotham’s less populated neighborhoods meaning that they never got enough sales and it didn’t help that their star customer was “dead” for a couple years.

Now he had to go searching for a replacement, god he had a strong dislike for that word, something that’ll at least be adequate enough since he knew that nothing could ever replace his original bookshop. Not with all the memories, the owners who knew him so well, the atmosphere, and that certain smell that brought him back to the last time where he actually felt happy. The place meant more to him than just a bookstore, it was a piece of his childhood that wasn’t tainted by anything, and now it’s gone.

His search began with another small shop that was only a few blocks down from his apartment, convenient. He wasn’t excited about this, no, he didn’t want to be doing this in the first place. His place should’ve never closed, it should still be there running and waiting for him, but it wasn’t which upset him more than he thought it would.

With a slight scowl on his face he made the walk to the unfamiliar bookstore by his apartment. Jason’s hood was up as usual, trying to keep his face away from people on the street for numerous reasons.

After a few minutes he made it to the possible replacement. It was nuzzled in between a cafe and a record store, fitting. It was small, smaller than the rest of the businesses on the block. With uncertainty Jason walked in, a doorbell sounded signaling his entrance. There were only a few other customers in the store, quietly picking out books to escape to, and no workers in sight.

“At least I won’t be bothered,” he thought to himself.

He headed straight for the classics, hoping to stumble upon a work he hasn’t read yet, practically impossible. As he searched through the novels he heard footsteps coming to this section, being who he was Jason was able to pick up on them several seconds before they got to where he was. When the steps came to a stop Jason looked up from the books to see who was near him now, was it curiosity, paranoia, or both?

What he faced was someone who was either an employee or an extreme book enthusiast as she was holding a stack of books that went so far up that her face was hidden behind the literature.

His first thought was to help, that’s the kind of guy he was or at least used to be, but he didn’t do anything as he looked away and went back looking for books to read. He wasn’t interested in meeting new people and talking to strangers anymore, even if they shared the same love for reading as he did. In fact, the idea alone made his stomach churn which is why he minded his business and kept to himself. People were probably better off without him in their lives anyway.

All of a sudden there was a crash as each book fell to the floor, the noise startling him a little.

“Shit,” he heard the girl swear under her breath as she squatted down to pick up the books.

Jason glanced over to her, she had a name tag signaling that she worked there as well as a defeated expression on her face. The longer he stood there not helping, the faster the guilt began to seep in.

God fucking damn it, fine.

Before he could even register what he was doing, Jason squatted down across from her helping her retrieve the dropped books.

“Oh thank you, you really didn’t have to,” she said shyly.

Jason didn’t respond, instead he gave her a slight nod as his way of saying, “no worries”. He was trying his best to avoid any eye contact and keep his eyes locked on the books but he couldn’t help but take a look at her face.

She was beautiful, fuck, so beautiful actually she may as well of come out of one of the novels she dropped. He quickly looked back down again hoping a blush hadn’t formed on his face, he knew that if he spoke now he’d stutter and make a fool out of himself.

She couldn’t help but steal a couple of glances of him as well. Her gaze went from book to him then back to the books then to his perfect face again. Some may have found him to look incredibly intimidating, most actually, and she did but she also thought him to be incredibly handsome. Maybe she’d been reading too much but he looked like he’d be a character from any of those classic romance novels that she loved.

Jason rose as he gathered the remaining novels. She looked up at him from where she was kneeling below him and to her he looked like god. Forget Austen’s novels, he was from a greek myth. His shoulders muscular and broad even under his red hoodie and brown leather jacket, his thighs thick with muscles hidden under the denim, and his height…well he was certainly tall, much taller than she. She had to be mindful of her facial expressions as she gawked at him for far too long.

He tried to make himself look smaller, tried to relax his muscles and hunch over. He didn’t want to intimidate her or scare her off. After being resurrected, his body began to change rapidly. Yes puberty kicked in but the lazarus pit was like an intense steroid resulting in him being huge, an absolute unit.

Sure, he liked how he looked when he was suited up as Red Hood but when he was without his mask and armor, he left like a brute. His size made him feel like some sort of monster. He didn’t want to scare good people away, especially women, but he knew he appeared incredibly intimidating to them all regardless of what he wanted.

And the scars, god that was the worst part for him. His body is scattered with them from all the fighting he’s done and violence he’s endured, his face not left unmarked either. As a kid, he thought they were cool, that it meant that you were strong and a survivor, now it makes him feel weak and reminds him of what has happened to him and what he became as a result. Each scar held a story, not the kinds he wants to be reading about.

All of these thoughts were swirling in Jason’s head as the bookstore worker looked up at him in what he thought was horror and disgust.

To his surprise she stood up with half of the novels in her hands with a sweet smile on her face.

“Thank you again, that was very kind of you,” she softly said still with a smile on her perfect face.

Jason hadn’t been called kind in awhile, it caught him off guard for a moment as a small smile broke out on his face.

“No problem,” was all he chose to say as he handed her the rest of the books.

“Do you need help finding anything? I practically know where everything is, especially in this section,” she let out a small laugh.

“I,” he cleared his throat, “I’m just browsing, thank you,” his deep voice contradicted his shy tone as he turned his back to her before she could see the blush that threatened to paint his structured face.

“Okay, well just let me know you if need anything, I’ll be around,” she said a little awkwardly.

Disappointed, she went over to the shelf behind Jason to do her job.

The two couldn’t help but look over their shoulders to sneak glances at one another, never catching each other in the process.

She only had one more book left to put away, Frankenstein. Of course, it was on the same shelf that Jason was currently browsing through.

“Excuse me, sorry,” she came up behind him to slip the last novel on the shelf. Jason stepped to the side giving her space, his eyes caught on the book in her hand.

She noticed his possible interest and stopped herself from returning it to its place.

“Oh, did you want to see this one?” She had a hopeful expression on her face as she reached the book out for him to take.

Jason read Frankenstein when he was younger but he hadn’t gone back to it since his death, he feared that it would hit too close to home. He didn’t want to relate to the monster, especially as much as he did, he wanted things to be different. He’d oftentimes fantasize about a life where he didn’t get killed or at least a world where Batman avenged him, these fantasies only screwed with his head more. Maybe it was time for him to really look at reality through a fictional lens, maybe it could help him figure some shit out.

Jason accepted her offer, his calloused fingers brushing against hers when he grabbed the book.

“Thank you,” he mumbled as he examined the new cover.

“I really enjoyed that one, it’s actually one of my favorites,” she beamed but got no response from Jason. She quickly grew embarrassed as she felt that he was bothered by her talking and overall presence. In reality, he wanted to hear more. After a couple of seconds of awkward silence, she turned away ready to leave him alone.

“Why’s that?” He suddenly asked causing her to turn back around again, his focus still on the book in his large hands.

Caught off guard she took awhile to respond, “The story, the character, well everything about it really I could go on and on.”

Jason finally looked at her, his cheeks heated but he didn’t care he wanted to talk to her.

“I’m listening.”

The pair went on to discuss the book that they both had a love for. Luckily, the store remained relatively dead and no one intruded on their conversation. Jason was mesmerized by the way she spoke and the way she thought. She was charmed by how good of a listener he was and his own takes.

For the next couple hours they had jumped from book to book, connecting pieces of their personal lives to literature, it was their way of getting to know each other.

He felt silly for ever worrying about finding a place that at least was decent. He ended up finding a treasure, one worth coming back for again and again.



[nomie-11]

First Call Back

masterlist! | part 1 here!

synopsis: after your impromptu move to Piltover, not all of your solutions are solved, but you're finally together again, so maybe this could work out, right?

pairings: vi x reader, powder is lowkey reader's adoptive daughter

“I’m heading out early today, so don’t look for me when you wake up. Breakfast is in the fridge, Powder is At school, and I’ve started the laundry. Don’t forget that ‘how is Powder adjusting to fancy private school meeting’ is tomorrow at 7:00. I promise I’ll shower after work so I don’t scare off the teacher. See you later. Love you, babe.” 

—phone call from Vi to Y/n, September 3rd, 7:32 a.m.

—————

You hadn’t quite made up your mind about Piltover yet. Yes, you had already moved there, and what little belongings you had were already set and away in your new apartment, but Piltover was weird. 

You could tell Powder wasn’t entirely happy about it, too. You and Vi had lined up the move so that Powder would start fresh on her first day of her first year of high school. The two of you (and Caitlyn) had even taken Powder out to get some new clothes, and she appreciated it, but you knew when she wasn’t feeling great. 

It all came to a head when, one night for dinner, you were sitting across from Powder, Vi on your other side with her textbooks and notes spread out, headphones pulled securely down over her ears. 

“How was school today, baby?” you asked softly, looking up from your plate to her, sitting in the kitchen chair she had claimed as her own, her knees pulled into her chest. Her soft, violet blue eyes were rimmed red as she glanced at you. 

“It was fine,” she mumbled, using her fork to push around her food on her plate, immediately shifting her gaze back down. She hadn’t taken a single bite all night—something that used to be foreign, she always used to eat, purely off the knowledge that you had sacrificed something for her plate to be full. 

With a soft sigh, you reached across the table, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. 

“You’ll tell me when you want me to braid your hair, okay?” 

She just nodded, dropping her fork onto the plate and pushing it towards you. “Thanks for dinner.” 

—————

“Did Powder tell you what’s going on? Those fancy Piltover assholes have been bullying her—saying she’s too skinny, that her hair is weird. They took her sketchbook today and started tearing out pages. When she got home from school, she just went straight to her room, didn’t even say hi. I had to force her to tell me when she finally grabbed a snack and took one of your high protein, high calorie bars that she hates.”

—phone call from Y/n to Vi, September 28th, 4:39 p.m.

—————

The walls of the apartment were a sterile white. Powder originally was excited to decorate them with you, but the excitement had fizzled out as quickly as it came. Boxes still sat unopened in the corner of her room, her sketches and art supplies untouched. The bright posters you’d picked out to liven up the place remained rolled up on her desk. She spent most of her time curled up on her bed, headphones in, drowning out the world. 

It hurt to see her like this. Powder had always been the spark, the light in the darkest days. Now, her spark seemed dimmed, weighed down by the move, the new school, and the unfamiliar faces that didn’t bother to understand her. 

That night, as you were tidying up the kitchen, you heard her soft footsteps approach. Powder hovered at the edge of the room, her arms wrapped around herself, looking smaller than ever. 

“Hey, baby,” you said, wiping your hands on a towel. “What’s up?”

She hesitated, her gaze flickering to the floor. Then, barely above a whisper, she said, “Can I… can I have some juice?”

“Of course,” you replied, trying to keep your voice light as you moved to the fridge. “You want your usual cup and straw too?”

She nodded, still not meeting your eyes. You grabbed the juice in silence, the quiet punctuated only by the soft click of Powder’s favorite cup against the metal of her straw. When it was ready, you placed the cup in front of her at the table, sitting down across from her. 

For a moment, she just stared at the mug, her hands cradling it for warmth. Then, she took a shaky breath and said, “I miss home.” 

Your heart clenched. “I know, baby,” you said softly. “It’s okay to miss it. This is a big change.” 

She nodded again, her eyes glassy. “It’s just… everything’s different here. The school, the kids, they don’t get me.” 

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, reaching out to take her hand. “I”m sorry I can’t fix this for you, but you don’t have to go through this alone, okay? Me and Vi—we’re here for you. Always.” 

Powder sniffed, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. Then, out of nowhere, she murmured, “Thanks, mom.” 

The words hit you like a freight train. Your breath caught, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at her. Powder didn’t even seem to realize what she’d said, her focus still on the mug in her hands. 

—————

“I don’t think she even knows she did it on purpose. But it still hit me, Y/n. Like I’ve been trying so hard to make things better, to be there, and she… she doesn’t even see me like that. I guess I deserve it. I left her.” 

—phone call from Vi to Y/n, September 29th, 12:14 a.m.

—————

The next morning, Vi wasn’t at the breakfast table. Powder had barely touched her cereal, her spoon stirring it listlessly. You decided against pushing her to eat more; the last thing she needed was added pressure. 

“Vi’s still upset, huh?” Powder asked, her voice small. 

“She’s just tired, baby,” You said, sitting down beside her. “She loves you so much, Powder. You know that, right?” 

Powder nodded, but her eyes stayed downcast. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.” 

“I know,” you murmured, brushing a strand of her soft blue hair behind her ear. “It’s just… complicated. She’s trying to figure out how to be what you need. And sometimes, it’s easier for her to feel like she’s not enough.” 

Powder looked up at you then, eyes wide. “But she is. She’s enough.” 

“I think she needs to hear that from you,” you said gently. 

—————

“Can you come home? Powder feels like shit, and I know you said you’re going for a run and I shouldn’t wait up for you, but I need to talk to you tonight.”

—phone call from Y/n to Vi, October 12th, 11:23 p.m.

—————

Powder had already gone to bed when Vi finally came through the door, her face flushed from a run that went on for longer than was originally planned. You were sitting on the couch, nursing a cup of tea, waiting for her. 

“Hey,” you said softly. 

“Hey,” she replied, toeing off her shoes. She didn’t sit beside you, instead heading for the kitchen to grab a glass of water. 

“You can’t just keep running away,” you said, your voice calm but firm. 

Vi froze mid-pour. “I’m not running,” she said after a moment, her tone defensive. 

“Yes, you are,” you said, setting your tea down on the counter. “Powder needs you right now. She feels terrible about what happened, Vi. And honestly? So do I.”

Vi turned to face you, her jaw tight. “Why would you feel terrible? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Because I should’ve seen this coming,” you said, standing up. “I should’ve talked to you about how she sees me, about how much she relies on me when you’re not around. This wasn’t fair to either of you.” 

Vi’s shoulders slumped, her anger deflating. “I just… I wanted to fix things,” she said, her voice cracking. “I wanted her to see me as her sister again, not some stranger who shows up every now and then.” 

“She does,” you said, stepping closer, resting your hand on her arm. “But Vi, you can’t force her to heal overnight. She’s grown up. She’s changed.” 

Vi’s eyes filled with tears, and she set the glass down with a shaky hand, wrapping her arms around your waist and burying her face in her shoulder. “I’m not cut out for this,” she whispered. 

“You are,” you said firmly, wrapping your arms around her. “We’ll figure this out.”

—————

“I helped Powder with her art project last night. We stayed up until midnight cutting out tiny stars because Powder didn’t like how hers turned out. It was the first time I’ve seen Powder smile in weeks. I think… I think we might be okay.” 

—phone call from Vi to Caitlyn Kiramman, October 17th, 10:22 a.m.

—————

The next week, the three of you went out for ice cream. It wasn’t much—just a quick trip to a small shop down the block—but it felt like a turning point. Powder clung to Vi’s arm the whole way there, her sketchbook tucked under her other arm. Vi didn’t let go once, even holding the door open with her foot. 

As you sat at a table, Powder flipping through her drawings to show Vi her latest ideas, you caught a glimpse of the sister Vi had been before everything had fallen apart. She laughed at Powder’s jokes, teased her about her favorite colors, and even let Powder draw on her arms around her tattoos.

“Maybe you should get it tattooed,” Powder said with a smile, pulling back her marker to give you a clear view of the intricate lines of flowers crawling up Vi’s mechanical ink. 

Vi grinned. “You think so? Maybe we can get matching ones someday.” 

Powder’s eyes lit up. “Really?” 

“Totally,” Vi said, ruffling her hair. 

You watched them, your chest tight with a mix of relief and undying love. For the first time since the move, things felt… okay.

—————

“I saw Powder hug Vi today. Like, really hug her—not one of those quick, awkward ones. She clung to her, just like she used to. Vi cried when she thought I wasn’t looking.” 

—phone call from Y/n to Caitlyn Kiramman, October 28th, 7:48 p.m.

—————

Powder and Ekko had claimed the living room, their laughter spilling into the kitchen where you and Vi were cleaning up after dinner. Powder’s sketchbook and Ekko’s toolbox—filled with small scraps of metal and wires—were spread out on the coffee table, and you could hear them trading ideas for some kind of contraption they wanted to build together. 

“They’re loud, but I’m not complaining,” Vi said, drying a plate. 

“Neither am I,” you said with a soft smile, handing her another dish to dry. “She’s never had a friend like him before.”

Vi glanced over her shoulder at the two teens, her expression softening. “She deserves to have someone like him. Someone who gets it.” 

“Yeah, she does,” you agreed, turning back to the sink. “Genius and madness. Let’s just hope they don’t blow up the apartment.” 

Vi snorted, leaning on the counter beside you, her shoulder brushing yours. “If they do, at least we know Powder will find a way to fix it.” 

You chuckled, glancing over at the living room. Powder was laughing now, a real, uninhibited laugh that filled the apartment with a warmth you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. Ekko was gesturing wildly, clearly explaining some grand idea, and Powder was nodding along, her now short blue hair bobbing with enthusiasm. 

“She’s totally doing better,” Vi said quietly, her eyes on her sister. 

“She is,” you replied, reaching for her next dish. 

Vi’s hand covered yours, stilling your movement. “Thanks for sticking with us,” she said, her voice low but sincere. “I don’t say it enough, but I don’t know what we’d do without you.” 

You squeezed her hand, your heart swelling. “You don’t have to thank me, Vi. I love you both too much for you to ever have to know what you’d do without me.” 

The sound of something crashing in the living room snapped both of your heads toward the noise. Powder and Ekko froze, their eyes wide as they looked at the overturned coffee table and the scattered parts of their project. 

“Uh… we can fix it!” Powder blurted, already scrambling to gather the pieces. 

Vi groaned, running a hand over her face. “I stand by what I said. They’re definitely blowing up the apartment.”

You laughed, grabbing a towel to clean up the spilled juice. “At least they’re having fun doing it.” 

Vi smirked, shaking her head. “They’re lucky they’re cute.” 

—————

“Hey, Cait. I know I’m running late for our lab, I swear I’m on my way—I just got a little held up at home. So much is going on. Powder’s smiling more, and she’s made this friend—a kid named Ekko—just moved here from Zaun with his adoptive father. They’ve been hanging out at our place, and for once I don’t feel like I’m walking on eggshells around her. 

And Y/n just applied to Piltover University for night classes. Can you believe it? She’s so nervous, but I know she’s gonna crush it. I told her I’d help with whatever she needs. Anyways, I’m on my way! Don’t wait for me.” 

—phone call from Vi to Caitlyn Kiramman, November 4th, 11:14 a.m.

—————

The day your acceptance letter arrived, Vi practically tackled you in excitement. 

“I told you!” She crowed, spinning you around the kitchen. “I told you you’d get in!”

”Vi, put me down!” You laughed, trying to wriggle free. 

“No way! This is huge, Y/n!” She said, finally setting you down but not letting go of your hands. “You’re going to college! You’re going to kill it. I’m so proud of you.” 

You blinked back tears, your chest tightening at the pride shining in her eyes. “I wouldn’t have even applied if it wasn’t for you.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Vi said, pulling you into a hug. “You did this. And I can’t wait for study dates, and walking you to and from class, and complaining about professors together, and—”

You snorted, shaking your head. “I haven’t enrolled yet, Vi. Deep breaths.”

—————

“I booked a reservation at that fancy rooftop place Caitlyn told us about. I figured we deserve a night out, just us. Ekko’s staying over with Powder—don’t worry, Benzo is cool with it. So… wear that dress I like, okay? I want to show you off a little.” 

—phone call from Vi to Y/n, 

—————

The rooftop restaurant was beautiful, lit by strings of fairy lights that twinkle like stars. Vi had somehow snagged a table near the edge (she name-dropped Caitlyn Kiramman and the hostess got nervous), where you could see all of Piltover stretched out below you. She looked good—too good—in her black button-up, the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off her tattoos and rippling muscles. 

“You clean up nice,” you teased, sipping your wine that tasted like a week’s worth of groceries. 

“You’re one to talk,” she shot back, her eyes shamelessly roamed over you. “That dress is illegal. I should arrest you.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “That line’s terrible. You shouldn’t take pickup lines from an enforcer-in-training.” 

“But it worked, didn’t it?” She said with a smug grin. 

The night passed in a blur of laughter and soft touches, a reminder of the easy connection you’d had before life got so hard. For the first time since you graduated and she moved to Piltover, you felt like a couple again-not just two people trying to hold everything together. 

As you walked home, Vi slipped her hand into yours, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. 

The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain from earlier in the evening. The streets were quieter now, the usual hustle of Piltover replaced by the soft hum of distant conversations and the occasional buzz of an airship overhead. 

“You know,” Vi started, her voice thoughtful, “for two kids trying to figure out how to raise another kid, we didn’t do too bad.” 

You smiled, squeezing her hand. “We did a pretty good job, actually. Powder is turning out great. She’s like this because of you, you know.” 

“Us,” she corrected, her gaze earnest. “Powder would’ve run for the hills if it was just me.” 

“You’re underselling yourself,” you said, nudging her shoulder. “You're a great big sister. She knows that now.” 

Vi’s lips quirked into a soft smile, her free hand brushing over her short hair. “I guess I’ll take the compliment. But I hope you know you’re the glue. Powder and I just cling to you.” 

The sincerity in her voice made your heart ache in the best way. “I do. I know.” 

The building loomed ahead, its familiar stone facade dimly lit under the streetlights. As you reached the doorway, Vi stopped, turning to face you fully. Her hands found your waist, pulling you just a little closer, her thumb brushing absentmindedly over the fabric of your dress. 

“I meant what I said earlier,” she murmured, her voice loud. “And I’m so proud of you. Not just for tonight—for everything. Going to college, always working so hard for Powder, you’ve been carrying all of us, and you make it look so effortless. And I don’t tell you enough how much I… love you.” 

The words were warm and steady, her familiar cadence grounding you in a way that nothing else could. “You don’t have to. I feel it every day.” 

Her smile softened, her eyes searching yours in the quiet of the moment. Then, slowly, she leaned in, her lips brushing yours with a tenderness that took you back to the first time you kissed on the roof of her dad’s old apartment building. You melted into her touch, your hands sliding up to rest against her chest, to feel the steady beat of her heart beneath your fingertips. 

The kiss deepened, a slow, deliberate exchange of all the things words couldn’t express. When you finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, Vi rested her forehead against yours, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“Let’s go home.” 

And with her hand still tightly around yours, you did. 

—————

“Hey, Pow! Don’t forget to set your alarm! I need you distracting her all day tomorrow so I can get the apartment ready. Time to propose!”

—phone call from Vi to Powder, June 13th, 1:43 a.m.

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

[sweatyracoon]

Unlikely Scene

Based on this edit

A/n: I watched this edit and literally screamed. I would kill for them fr fr 💀

Warnings: smut? Knife play, blood? Death, Sub reader, knife fucking, fear play? Threesome, penetration, mxm, dom Lee know, switch Seungmin, freaky reader, let me know if I missed anything

You had known for while who your boyfriends were. And it didn’t bother you in the slightest. You were surprised when you first found out, but you were quick to assure them that you were heavily into it.

Ever since the killings had started, and you heard about it from the news, you were more intrigued than scared. You had always had a macabre fascination for murderers and their reasonings. You had studied a lot of them, in fact. Even fell in love with the idea of dating a killer, hoping that he would use it against you if he ever got angry with you. Threaten you with any weapon of their choice. Make you beg.

It made your knees weak just thinking about it.

When you saw that iconic black mask with a face that looked as if it were melting, you felt your heart flutter. Not in fear, but curiosity. The news itself had said each killing had started with a phone call. The killer was male, and enjoyed toying with his victims. That was all they knew. It made you fantasize about him, and how his voice sounded. You had become obsessed with this killer in particular.

To have a notorious serial killer in your lifetime made you squeal in excitement, and not only that, he was in your town! Why you were excited, you didn’t know. You knew that you should be afraid, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be.

You kept your doors and windows locked, but you stayed up, wondering who was next. If you knew them. If he was anywhere near you. What type of blade did he use? Did he even use a blade? What if he used just regular kitchen scissors? You couldn’t help it as your mind wandered during the early hours.

You finally drifted to sleep.

The next day, reports were consistently flowing through the news about the new killer, and how the locals had dubbed him Ghostface. The name made you shiver, the sound of it rolling off your tongue in admiration.

How could he have gotten a fan following so quickly?

You unlocked your phone, inputting his name in the tag bar, millions of posts appearing in seconds. You saw pictures of people wearing a similar mask, but you noticed that none of them were the same. It made you wonder if the killers mask was custom made. You also saw fake deaths and pretty girls chewing their bubble gum while calling the guy a creep.

They might be next, you hoped, rolling your eyes.

A couple weeks later, two more deaths were caused at the hands of your new obsession, the people unknown to you. You didn’t lose any sleep over it. But you noticed that the next video caught of him, his body was slightly different. To most people, they wouldn’t notice. But you watched this man closely. The next photo was the same mask. The scuff near the chin and the small indent near the right eye didn’t go unseen by you, but this body was a few inches taller, and his shoulders broader.

That’s not him…is it?

You suddenly doubted yourself, unsure if you were paying enough attention. You cursed at yourself, pulling out your phone, looking at your ghostface file.

Okay. You confirmed that it most definitely wasn’t the same guy. The original was smaller, and more built. This guy was a tall scrawny guy. But the robes and large mask made it hard to see. Even the news people didn’t even notice it. They kept on speaking as if it were your killer. But it wasn’t. You sighed out, suddenly wondering if this was a two man job? Maybe three? Or if this was just a phony that wanted attention.

You sighed, hopping in the shower on your second floor. You didn’t even hear your phone ringing, the shower flooding your ear drums, the steam making you lazy.

When you stepped out, you noticed the missed call. It was from an unknown number, making you shrug, drying your hair. Two minutes later as you’re putting on your shorts, your phone rings again. The same number.

You answer, wiping your legs.

“Hello, y/n,” a raspy voice greeted, making you freeze.

“Hello? Do I know you?” You ask casually, dropping your towel at your feet.

“You might have seen me on tv. I’m a pretty big deal right now, some might say…an icon,” he said, chuckling a bit at the end. You barely caught it.

You had a feeling as to where this was going. You remembered that the news lady said it all started with a phone call. Your breath hitched in your throat, but your insides turned to jello, arousal pooling in your stomach.

“Well, give me a hint, then. What type of people consider you an icon?” You turned slowly, facing your bathroom door, looking passed the hinges into your room. Empty.

“The not so nice people. The ones that want to hurt others…People that crave violence, that worship the wrong god…And guess what? I see that you idolize me, princess. So which type of person are you? You don’t seem violent, just curious,” You could tell he was using a voice changer, but despite knowing it was fake, your thighs clenched together at his on point answer. You breathed deeply.

“I-How did-?” You stuttered, your face flushing. You had all of your Ghostface memorabilia in the guest bedroom, and if he knew that you geeked out over him, that meant he was here. In your home. You were next.

“You must worship the wrong god, sweetheart. Such a shame it has to be you tonight,” he almost sounded genuine, but it was hard to tell with his altered voice. You stepped forward towards your bed, sitting at the edge.

“You’re here?” You whispered, earning a laugh from him.

“Yes, sweetheart. I am.”

Your eyes glazed over, the reality of the situation reaching you before you knew it. A shudder ran through you, and you decided to press your luck. It was silent on the other end, and you took your chance.

“Can I ask you a question, sir?”

You heard a small gasp from him, making you lightly smile.

“Sir? Well with such nice manners, I shall grant you a question or two,” his voice was the same, but the tone turned slightly more playful.

“Are there…are there two of you? I noticed that, you looked a bit different from before…It’s hard to explain-“ you were cut off with a solid answer.

“Yes. There are two of us. A team, if you will,” his voice was thin now, almost reserved, which was so different then the previous playful killer that you had gotten used to in those few minutes.

“Lucky for you, we both came tonight,”

Your eyes widened, unsure how to feel at that statement. Both? What did that mean for you? Are they both gonna try and kill you? Was one here to take pictures while the other stabbed you to death? Your mind wandered, not hearing what he said to you before hanging up.

Your hand dropped to your side, your phone sliding from your palm and onto the floor. You sat still, suddenly aware of the footsteps coming from your hallway. They sounded heavy, and moved with a purpose.

Your eyes caught the black robes as they glided into your room, a knife in his hand. Just one?

He paused in front of you, frozen. You wondered what he was thinking, considering he was wearing the damn mask. You felt your panties sticking to your wet core, making you move your legs. You were desperately hoping he would take the mask off at least once before he killed you. You wanted to see the face of the man that had gotten you hooked over the past few months. It was the least he owed you.

He shifted on his feet, not coming closer.

He almost looked uncomfortable. You tilted your head.

“Were you the one on the phone?” You asked calmly, causing the man to recoil in response.

“I was,” you heard a voice say from your hallway.

You didn’t even hear his steps. When he emerged, he was wearing the same outfit and mask as the other, and you noticed how he was the taller of the two, the one with the broad shoulders. You gasped. He took his palace next to his comrade, towering over both he and you.

“Well?” He cooed, his voice significantly different from how he sounded on the phone. It was lighter and angelic. He could be a singer during the day. He tilted his head as you did to the other, his posture making you feel things you had never felt before.

“Can I see you both? Before you…you know?” You cringe at the thought of death, and the shorter of the two recoiled yet again.

“Why aren’t you running? You should be scared,” he finally spoke, his English slightly broken. Almost as if he was from out of the country.

“Cause she’s fucked up. Ain’t that right sweetheart?” The taller answered for you, making your mouth dry. His voice was so sweet, but his tone condescending. All you could do was stare as thy looked at each other through the masks.

“Let’s let her see. After all, she isn’t gonna be around much longer tonight,” he sighed, almost as if it were a chore.

Your focus was now pointed at them fully, watching the smaller struggle internally before sighing as well, nodding. They both reached for the hems of the masks, tugging the off. At first you couldn’t see their faces, shaking their heads to fix their messy hair. But when they flipped them up, your jaw dropped.

They were absolutely gorgeous. The shorter, his features were sharp, his eyes slanted like a cat. And his lips were thin, his bunny teeth showing as he cringed at the feeling of his hair pointing in every direction. His adams apple shaped like a heart as he tilted his neck to pop it. His gaze was intense as he observed you. His muscular build framed by the robe.

The taller of the two, scrawny, but firm. His broad shoulders held his beautiful face, his cheeks round, and his eyes big and devastating, reminding you of a puppy. His hair brown with a blonde bang. And his lips framed the silver braces shimmering as he smiled.

You fought the urge to make a noise of plea.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” The taller asked with a grin, making you gulp.

You didn’t respond, unsure if there was a right answer or not. You continued looking at them, unable to stop yourself from rubbing your thighs together, sighing at the friction.

“Answer me.” His voice deepened, almost like a growl. You gasped when he came to stop in front of you, grabbing your chin to look up at him.

“Are you turned on right now?” He questioned, a mocking tone lacing his voice as he grinned at you.

Your eyes watered slightly, feeling a little spacey.

“Yes,” you breathed out.

He laughed, letting go of your chin, making you whine at the loss of his touch. He stepped back, his grin spreading as he went to whisper something into his friend’s ear. His eyes darkened as he smirked, both turning to you with lust in their gaze.

“Lay down,” the shorter barked the order, and you obeyed immediately, making their eyes widen in shock. They didn’t expect you to comply so easily.

“What should I call you guys?” You mutter, watching as they both went to opposite sides of the bed.

The looked at each other before nodding.

“Lee Know,” the boy said at your right.

“Seungmin,” the one on your left said.

Their names were beautiful to you, and suddenly you wanted to sing them as a mantra, your own prayer. But you held back, not wanting this moment to end.

They both just stared at what you for what felt like hours, your legs brushing against each other to relieve yourself any way you could. Your eyes caught Seungmin gaze, locking onto him as you admired him from your position. You didn’t notice Lee know moving his knife to brush against your throat, making you freeze, eyes widened but still focused on seungmin.

You felt the cool metal brush against your skin, moving lower, reaching your top. He paused before moving above them lower. You whined at the muted feeling of the knife above your clothes, making them both chuckle.

“Your liking this aren’t you, sweetheart? You like Lee Knows knife?” Seungmin cooed, bringing his hand up to caress your face.

You sniffled, “Yes,” you whine, your legs twitching when he pushed the tip of the board into your inner thigh. A slight prick that made you see stars. You turned to look at the other man, watching as he slipped it into the waistband of your shorts.

He used his other hand, using it and the knife to pull them off, immediately noticing you wearing nothing underneath. He groaned, tossing your shorts to the side. You gasped when the blade met your skin again, the sudden chill painful before heating into a deep fire.

“Then you wouldn’t mind him fucking you with it?” Your eyes widened, turning back to Seungmin, seeing his cocky grin. He brushed a hair from your face, raising his brows. “What, sweetheart? You don’t want this? Don’t want us?”

If you were in your right mind, you would be able to tell he was manipulating you, but you were too far gone to care, and you really wanted this. Wanted them.

“I want it! Please! I want it so bad…” you groaned, moving your hips slightly.

Seungmin smiled before watching Lee know flip the knife, placing the handle at your entrance.

The handle with warm from his hands, a deep contrast to the chill of the blade.

“Ready?” Lee Know asked. You barely had the chance to respond as he thrusted the handle in, pressing it to the hilt. The beginning of the blade hit your ass, but he positioned it to where it couldn’t cut you.

You moaned loudly, your back arching as he started thrusting the handle at a steady pace. You whimpered, turning back to Seungmin. He no longer held his mocking smile, instead his face filled with concentration as he watched where Lee Knows hands met your middle, his braces showing from his open mouth.

“You like it, Seungmo? She pretty, ain’t she?” Lee Know slurred, staring at his friend.

“So pretty, Minnie,” he breathed, listening to the squelching of your pussy. He looked up and caught his gaze, both of them staring at each other. It made your toes curl.

Suddenly Lee know pushed forward, capturing seungmin in a kiss. He was caught by surprise, but melted into it, quickly slipping tongue. You watched as you were being fucked, the sight alone enough to make you finish.

You felt the coil in your stomach burn hotter with each second, but it finally snapped when you heard the high pitch moan from seungmin. You came hard as the boys separated, a string of saliva connecting them together.

“Good girl, y/n,” Lee Know mumbled, his lips wet and swollen.

You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing.

You opened your eyes to see them both staring at you, their eyes glossy and focused.

“Did the knife cut you?” Seungmin asked, reaching for your discarded shorts.

You huffed out, not expecting that question.

“No…are you guys gonna…?” You made a slash motion at your neck, watching seungmin look at you hard.

“No…But I have another idea for you,” his playful tone back, he grinned at the two of you.

“Be our girlfriend. Our watchdog. Let us know if anyone’s on to us. I see you already have done plenty of research, sweetheart,” His head tilted as he grinned at you.

You looked at Lee know, and he nodded, smiling. You noticed the slick on the handle of the knife. You reached for it, Lee know flinching, thinking you were going to retaliate. Instead, you brought it to your lips, licking it seductively as you looked at them both.

“I’d be honored,” you giggled, making them smile.

That’s how you all become partners in crime <3

[domm1etae]

Possession

welcome to domm1etae's kinktober day 1 : SIZE KINK

hongjoong x f!reader

2.7k

when Y/N gets too close to a friend at a gathering, Hongjoong’s quiet jealousy simmers beneath the surface, leading to an intense confrontation as soon as they’re alone

nsfw tags under

m/f, top hongjoong, bottom reader, vaginal sex, rough sex, dominance, submission, size kink, possession, jealousy, dirty talk, power play, manhandling, orgasm control, claiming kink, breath play, control, pet names, kissing

Requests OPEN! - let me know through the ask button if you have any requests for this Kinktober

author's note: this was suggested by @arki-sha in my comments. here is the original prompt:

Possessive!Hongjoong + Size Kink I really think that HJ would really go feral if his partner is someone who is smaller than him like he would really use their size difference to his advantage since he can't use it that often to others since he is usually much shorter and smaller than his members.

navigation | kinktober masterlist

Y/N could tell something was off with Hongjoong the moment they arrived at the gathering. He was quiet, almost too quiet, which was unusual for him. She knew him well enough to sense when something was brewing beneath the surface. But Hongjoong wasn’t the type to cause a scene in front of others—he held his emotions close to his chest until they were alone.

The night went on, and Y/N found herself laughing along with one of their friends, a guy she’d known for years. He had a harmless charm about him, always cracking jokes and lightening the mood. She nudged him playfully when he made some ridiculous comment, not thinking twice about it—until she caught a glimpse of Hongjoong from across the room.

His eyes were on them, sharp and unblinking, his jaw set in a tight line. Y/N’s stomach flipped. She hadn’t meant to upset him, but she could feel the jealousy radiating off him in waves. Hongjoong was possessive by nature, especially when it came to her. He wasn’t controlling, but the idea of someone else getting too close to her—especially another man—always triggered something primal in him.

Throughout the rest of the evening, Y/N tried to engage Hongjoong in conversation, hoping to smooth things over, but he remained distant. His replies were short, and the tension between them grew thicker with each passing minute. She could see it in the way his eyes darkened every time the other guy spoke to her, the way his hand gripped his glass just a little too tight.

She knew he was holding back, but she also knew that once they were alone, he wouldn’t hold back anymore.

As soon as they said their goodbyes and got into the car, the silence was suffocating. Y/N glanced over at Hongjoong, trying to read his expression, but he was staring straight ahead, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Joong, are you okay?” she asked softly, already knowing the answer.

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, in a voice low and rough, he said, “Do I look okay?”

Y/N bit her lip, feeling a mix of guilt and apprehension. She hadn’t meant to make him jealous, but she also knew there was no point in trying to defend herself right now. Hongjoong’s possessiveness had taken over, and once that switch was flipped, there was only one way it would end.

The ride home felt like it stretched on forever, and the second they stepped through the front door, Hongjoong’s hand was on her wrist, pulling her towards him with a firm, almost desperate grip.

“We need to talk,” he growled, his eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and something darker, something possessive.

Y/N’s heart raced as she nodded, letting him lead her into the living room. His body was tense, his movements sharp, and she could feel the weight of his jealousy pressing down on her like a storm about to break.

“Do you have any idea what you were doing tonight?” Hongjoong’s voice was low, but there was an edge to it that made Y/N’s pulse quicken. He released her wrist and began pacing in front of her, running a hand through his hair in agitation. “Laughing with him, touching him like that—do you think I wouldn’t notice? Do you think I wouldn’t care?”

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but the words got stuck in her throat. She knew trying to explain herself would only make things worse. Instead, she swallowed hard and tried to keep her voice calm. “Joong, I didn’t mean anything by it. We were just talking.”

“Talking?” he spat the word like it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He stopped pacing and turned to face her, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “You were practically all over him, Y/N. And he was eating it up, wasn’t he? Acting like he had a chance.”

Y/N shook her head, her voice soft but firm. “He’s just a friend. You know that.”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer, towering over her. “I don’t care,” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. “I don’t want him or anyone else that close to you. You’re mine, Y/N. Only mine.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as he closed the distance between them, his hand sliding up to cup her face, his touch gentle but his grip firm enough to let her know he wasn’t playing around. His thumb brushed over her lower lip, his eyes dark and full of that possessive heat that always made her heart race.

She could feel the tension rolling off him in waves, a storm of jealousy and desire swirling just beneath the surface. Her heart pounded in her chest, knowing what was coming next, knowing that Hongjoong wasn’t just angry—he was possessive in a way that made her feel both vulnerable and exhilarated.

“Do you have any idea what it does to me,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “to see someone else touching you? Even just for a second?”

Y/N couldn’t tear her gaze away from him, her pulse quickening under the intensity of his stare. “Joong…”

His fingers slid down her neck, wrapping lightly around her throat. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make her feel small, completely at his mercy. “Do you know what I was thinking about the whole time?” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. “I was thinking about how I’m the only one who gets to touch you like this. How no one else can make you feel the way I do.”

Y/N’s knees felt weak as his hand tightened just a little, his grip commanding and possessive. She could feel the heat of his body pressing against hers, the intensity of his jealousy driving him to take control, to remind her who she belonged to.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation.

His eyes darkened, and a slow, predatory smile tugged at his lips. “Oh, you will be.”

Before she could react, Hongjoong’s lips crashed against hers, the kiss hard and possessive, his hands moving to grip her hips, pulling her flush against him. His fingers dug into her skin, not painful but insistent, as if he needed to feel every inch of her under his control.

Y/N melted into the kiss, her hands gripping his shoulders as his possessiveness fueled the fire between them. She could feel his jealousy in every movement, every rough touch, as if he was trying to erase the memory of anyone else being close to her.

Without breaking the kiss, Hongjoong pushed her backwards, guiding her towards the bedroom. His lips never left hers, his hands wandering over her body with a kind of urgency that made Y/N’s head spin. The second they reached the bed, he pulled away, leaving her breathless and dazed as he stood over her, his chest heaving.

“You’re everything to me, Y/N,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “No one else gets to have you like this.”

Y/N could barely breathe as she watched him, her body trembling with anticipation. She knew what was coming, and the thought sent a shiver of excitement down her spine. Hongjoong wasn’t just going to make love to her—he was going to claim her, to remind her of her place in his arms.

He undressed quickly, his movements sharp and precise, and within moments, he was standing over her, fully bare. Y/N’s eyes widened as she took him in, the sight of his body making her pulse race. Hongjoong wasn’t the biggest man physically, but right now, with the intensity in his eyes and the way he loomed over her, he felt massive.

He crawled over her, his body pressing her into the mattress as he pinned her wrists above her head. “You’re so tiny beneath me,” he murmured, his voice full of dark satisfaction. “Perfectly made for me.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she felt his hands roaming over her body, his touch rough and possessive. Every stroke of his fingers sent a thrill through her, reminding her of just how much control he had over her in this moment.

“Hongjoong,” she whimpered, her body arching towards his touch.

He smirked down at her, his eyes gleaming with that same possessive heat. “You crave this, don’t you?” he growled, his hand sliding between her thighs, teasing her until she was trembling beneath him. “You want to feel how much I want you.”

Y/N could only nod, her voice lost in a soft moan as he continued to tease her, driving her to the brink of madness with every touch. She loved the way he made her feel—small, vulnerable, and utterly claimed.

Hongjoong’s fingers ghosted over her skin, teasingly slow as he traced the curve of her waist, then down to her thighs. His eyes never left hers, dark with desire and something more primal, more intense. He relished this—loved seeing her smaller frame beneath him, her body completely at his mercy, helpless to whatever he decided to do next. Y/N’s breath was ragged, each teasing touch driving her closer to the edge, and he knew it. He was enjoying every second of it, watching her squirm under his control.

“Damn, you look irresistible like this,” he murmured, voice deep and rough, his thumb brushing the inside of her thigh, just shy of where she desperately wanted him. “I could lose myself in you, baby.”

Y/N whimpered, her hips shifting involuntarily as she tried to press herself closer to his hand, but he held her down firmly. The look on his face was all dominance, all control. She was his, and he was going to make sure she knew it—every inch of her.

Her mind was spinning, thoughts scattered as her body reacted to every brush of his fingertips. She had never felt so small, so overwhelmed by his presence, and yet it thrilled her to the core. The way Hongjoong looked at her, like she was the only thing in his world, filled her with an intoxicating mix of desire and submission. His jealousy had transformed into something powerful, something that made her feel utterly consumed by him.

“Joong, please…” Y/N’s voice was barely a whisper, pleading, but she couldn’t help it. She needed more—needed him to take her completely, to feel him inside her, filling her, claiming her.

His lips curled into a smirk at her desperation, and he leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. “You want me to give you everything, huh?” he teased, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “What if I want to make you wait a little longer?”

Y/N shuddered, her breath catching as his lips brushed her ear. “You know what you do to me,” she breathed, her body aching for him.

Hongjoong chuckled darkly, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. “Trust me, I know. And I can’t get enough of it. You’re the only one I want to see like this.” He leaned in closer, his voice lowering. “I want to remind you that no one else can touch you the way I do.”

Without warning, he pushed her legs apart, settling himself between them, his hands gripping her hips with a possessive force that made her gasp. He loved seeing her like this—vulnerable, exposed, completely under his control. His cock was hard, pressing against her entrance, and he took a moment to savor the look on her face, the way her body trembled with anticipation.

“I don’t want you looking at anyone else,” Hongjoong murmured, his lips brushing her neck, kissing, biting softly. “You’re mine, Y/N. Just mine.”

“I know,” she whimpered, her body arching into him, desperate for him to move. “I’m yours, Joong.”

“Good girl,” he muttered, his voice sending a shiver down her spine. And with that, he thrust into her, hard and deep, stretching her in a way that made her gasp, her body tensing as he filled her completely.

Y/N’s head fell back against the pillow, her breath catching in her throat as Hongjoong settled himself fully inside her. The stretch was overwhelming, the feeling of him so deep that it made her toes curl. He didn’t give her time to adjust, though—his hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her in place as he started moving, slow at first, but each thrust deliberate, calculated.

“You feel that?” he growled, his eyes locked on hers, his voice low and rough. “That’s me reminding you how much you mean to me.”

Y/N could only moan in response, her body reacting instinctively to the way he took her, each thrust pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She felt so small beneath him, so helpless, and the way Hongjoong’s body pressed down on hers made her feel completely owned. He wasn’t just fucking her—he was claiming her, marking her as his.

With each movement, Hongjoong’s jealousy seemed to fuel his desire, his pace picking up, rougher, more insistent. He thrust deep into her, each motion filling her completely, the size difference between them only heightening the intensity. She couldn’t escape the way he filled her, couldn’t escape his hold, and that thought alone sent waves of heat through her.

“Joong—” Y/N gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he thrust harder, her mind a blur of pleasure and need.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demanded, his voice a low growl, his pace relentless. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m yours,” she breathed, her voice trembling with the intensity of it all. “Only yours.”

A dark, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips as he heard the words he wanted. “That’s what I like to hear,” he murmured, leaning down to capture her lips in a bruising kiss. His hand slid down her body, teasingly slow, before it found its way between her legs. His fingers brushed against her clit, and Y/N cried out, her body arching into him as he started to rub slow circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The combination of his cock thrusting deep inside her and the pressure on her clit sent her spiraling. Her moans grew louder, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps as Hongjoong pushed her closer to the edge.

“You’re loving every second of this, aren’t you?” he muttered, his voice rough as he watched her fall apart beneath him. “You love how I make you feel—like you’re the only one in the world.”

Y/N couldn’t respond—she was too overwhelmed, her body trembling with pleasure as Hongjoong continued to thrust into her, his fingers working her clit with precision. She was so close, so close she could feel the tension building inside her, ready to snap at any moment.

“Come for me,” Hongjoong growled, his voice commanding as his pace quickened. “Come for me, baby. Show me how much you need me.”

That was all it took. With a loud, broken moan, Y/N’s body tensed, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her walls clenched around him, and Hongjoong cursed under his breath, his thrusts becoming erratic as her body milked him.

The sight of her coming undone beneath him, so small and helpless under his control, sent Hongjoong over the edge. With a deep, guttural groan, he thrust into her one last time, burying himself as deep as he could as he spilled inside her, claiming her in every sense of the word.

For a moment, they stayed like that, both of them breathing heavily, their bodies pressed together as the waves of pleasure slowly ebbed away. Hongjoong’s hands loosened their grip on her hips, his touch becoming softer, more tender as he gently pulled out of her and collapsed beside her on the bed.

Y/N’s body was still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm, her mind hazy with satisfaction. She turned her head to look at Hongjoong, and to her surprise, his eyes were soft now, the earlier fire of jealousy replaced by something gentler.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face before leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “You’re mine,” he whispered, the possessiveness still there but tempered by affection. “Always.”

Y/N smiled, her body relaxing into the warmth of his embrace. “Always,” she echoed, feeling utterly content in his arms.

[mountttmase]

See You Soon

Note - coming to you slightly earlier than scheduled as I suddenly have a social life but I hope you enjoy this. I like to think of this as a colab between myself and @saltyheartnightmare and it was her original idea to use the TikTok I found for this. I hope you guys like it and feedback is always appreciated 🩷

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 7.8k

Warnings - fluff and a tiny bit of angst and smut

Waking up next to Mason was your favourite thing in the world. Today though, you weren’t afforded that luxury.

The pair of you had moved into your new house about a week ago and you were still trying to make it a home. Things had been all over the place since your wedding just a month before but finally you were in your home and ready to make it exactly how you wanted it.

Tomorrow night would be Mason's first away game since you’d moved in and you could tell he was a little apprehensive about leaving you alone for the first time in this big house. You tried to reassure him that it would be a regular thing soon and you’d just have to get used to it but you couldn't deny you were also a little scared about it.

This new house was more than you ever thought you could have in a home. It was huge and finished to a high standard but when you were alone in the day you could swear you could hear and see things move. You knew Mason could tell something was up as you clung to him tightly when he got home but you just brushed it off by saying you missed him.

Mason was up earlier than you anticipated but after another night of him worshipping your body, you didn’t even wake up fully as he moved around. Ever since your wedding a month ago he was even more touchy than usual but you weren't complaining about any of it as you wanted him just as much. However this morning you needed to recover from the way he’d put you to the test last night knowing you wouldn't see each other for a few days and you ached deliciously.

It was around 10am by the time you managed to peel the covers away from your body. Knowing you needed caffeine to try and shake yourself out of the space you were in and after quickly getting dressed you plodded down to the kitchen.

You knew there was something different about the room as soon as you stepped into the open plan space but you didn’t realise how obvious it was until you went to the coffee machine. Grabbing a mug from the cupboard before finding a folded up piece of paper taped to the front of the machine.

‘What the hell?’ You whispered. Placing your mug on the side so you could see what it was and as soon as you opened it up you recognised Mason's handwriting immediately.

‘Oh Mase’ you breathed. Your bottom lip jutting out as you read over his note a few times until you couldn’t anymore as your eyes filled with tears that you blinked away.

It was times like this where you fell in love with Mason even more than you thought you could. He was already your everything but the way he proved himself all the time that he was thinking of you and trying his best to make you smile whenever he could melted you and made you wish he was standing next to you so you could give him a big kiss.

The excited part of you wanted to run around and find them all straight away but you figured since you were on your own for at least three days it would be best to space them out a little bit. This was clearly a distraction exercise for you and you didn’t want to ruin it for him so you made your coffee and took it up to bed with your note so you could read it over and over again.

You had some errands to run today, but you didn’t want to leave without finding at least one more. Thankfully the next one wasn’t hard to find and as you made your way into the dining room the bright bunch of flowers sitting in the middle of the table caught your eye immediately.

You could tell this note was much smaller than the last, reaching out with a giddy smile in anticipation of what he had to say to you next and just like usual he didn’t disappoint.

You were giggling like a schoolgirl as you bent to take a big sniff of them. They were bright and colourful and looked how Mason made you feel on the inside. They were wasted in the dining room though so you picked them up and took them into the sitting room so it gave a chance to look at them everyday before snapping a quick picture to say thank you to him.

You left the house shortly after with a spring in your step. Popping to the supermarket to do the food shop and then nipping to the bakery on the way home to get yourself a few treats for lunch. This afternoon you were planning to paint one of the spare rooms that you would be using for your office and after you'd eaten and put the shopping away you quickly nipped to B&Q for the last few bit’s you needed.

The whole time you were painting your office you couldn't stop thinking about Mason and where the next note might be. Knowing he must have gotten up extra early today to plant them around the house made you giggle but you also realised how into this he was and knew he would have some extra special hiding places for you to find.

Your painting took longer than you'd planned for it to, eventually finishing in time for you to make some quick dinner before your favourite shows started. You were messaging Mason a little bit throughout the day as he quizzed you about the notes and if you had looked for more but to his dismay you hadn't. You told him you were itching for a shower and would look before bed but thankfully for you, you didn't have to look too far.

Your bathroom was probably the last place the note should have been but you knew Mason had gone out if his way to surprise you so you should have expected the unexpected. As soon as you opened your cupboard to grab your skin care you were met with a glass frame that was closed like a book and the usual lined paper that was stuck to the front.

If anyone felt lucky in this moment it was you feeling lucky that you got to marry someone as wonderful as Mason and before you broke down in tears again your eyes flickered to the photo frame in your cupboard.

As you pulled apart the frame, you realised it had two sides, one containing a photo for yours and Mason's wedding day whilst the other seemed to have dried flowers from your bouquet pressed between the glass.

‘Oh my god’ you whispered, tears pouring down your face as you gently touched the picture of the pair of you having your first dance and you felt all consumed with your love for him. Taking the frame back into your room and placing it on your bedside table so you could look at him before you went to sleep and knew you wanted to let him know you’d found the next note even if you couldn’t keep your emotions in check.

Getting to marry Mason was a dream. The whole day you felt like a princess as the man of your dreams promised to give himself to you but you hadn’t been able to relive the day as much as you’d have liked as your official wedding photos and video still weren’t ready. Mason had obviously managed to get a hold of one though and the sweet gift had made you more emotional than you thought it would.

You missed Mason more than you ever had but you’d barely been away from this time. Telling yourself it was only a few more days but you were counting down the hours until he was back in your arms.

The next morning you woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed. Excited to go hunting for a new note before you got started on some more unpacking but it seemed as though the next note was a bit too well hidden so you gave up and went to have a shower and get dressed. Telling yourself to look a bit later with fresh eyes when you’ve had a think about it while unpacking.

The boxes you needed were in the garage and you were digging around in there for a little while until you came across what you needed and picked it up ready to leave.

The next note was staring you in the face. Attached to the back of the door so you’d see it on the way out and you laughed as you popped the box down to read it.

You remembered the first time you’d met too, you were only 18 and when Mason said you’d crashed into each other you’d quite literally crashed into him.

Being invited to parties at school was somewhat of a rare occurrence. You and your friends weren’t part of the cool kids in your year but you knew whenever Seb was having a party you’d be invited.

You’d known Seb since you were babies. Your mums being best friends that had magically gotten pregnant at the same time and whilst you weren’t as close as you once were, he was like family and you had a permanent invite to any party he threw in order for you not to rat him out to his mum.

You didn’t care for the people there, you and your friends sticking to yourselves but it was worth it for the free drinks and soon enough you were being invited to parties no matter who was hosting or where they were.

It was that time of the year though, exams were finally over and uni offers had been accepted. Most of you now over the age of 18 and able to buy alcohol and get into clubs but for one last time Seb wanted to get everyone together again. One last hurrah before you all went your separate ways and it was all going well until you caught sight of the last person you wanted to see.

Logan was in the year above, a popular guy and way out of your league but you fell for his charms quickly. You never understood why he’d gone for you but he had and the pair of you started dating shortly after you’d met. He was sweet and sensitive and made you feel on top of the world but right now you wished the ground would swallow you up.

You quickly excused yourself from your friends, wanting to get away and out of his eyeline and thankfully knowing Sebs house like it was your own meant you could sneak away and run into the utility room that was just through the garage.

‘Oh shit! Sorry, are you alright?’ You suddenly heard. Feeling a hand on your arm as the stranger you’d walked straight into tried to steady you and when you looked up you were met with a face you didn’t recognise.

A very attractive face you didn’t recognise.

‘I’m fine’ you managed to stutter out, straightening yourself up as he let go of you and you were thankful he’d managed to keep his drink contained in his cup and it wasn’t all down your front. You’d bought this dress especially for tonight and even though it was way out of your comfort zone you wanted to make sure you looked good. It was silky and tight and you knew any stain would show up straight away and it was the last thing you needed to look like a hot mess. ‘Sorry, I didn’t expect anyone to be in here, I wasn’t looking where I was going’ you tried to explain but his sweet smile made you feel at ease and you couldn’t help but smile back.

‘No it’s okay, I wasn’t either’ he laughed. Scratching the back of his neck nervously and you couldn’t help but find him endearing straight away. ‘You sure you’re alright? Looks like I’ve seen a ghost’

‘I’m fine, really’ you told him, trying to brush him off so you could get a few minutes alone and collect yourself but your mystery man didn’t want to let you go that easily. His big brown eyes looking right into yours and you were struck by how handsome he was straight away.

‘Can I get you a drink then at least?’ He offered. Head nodding to the assortment of bottles behind him and you sent him a small nod before telling him your usual. Most drinks were kept in the kitchen but the good stuff was kept out here and you smiled as Mason found exactly what you wanted with ease. ‘I know I’ve asked, and I know you said you’re fine, but are you sure? You can tell me you know. Nothing like spilling your secrets to a stranger’

‘Are you offering to be my therapist?’

‘Of sorts. I can’t tell you I have the answers to everything but i'm a good listener and I won’t charge you an arm and a leg’ he chuckled and you smiled back in amusement as he passed you your drink. ‘I’m Mason, by the way’

‘y/n’

‘Nice to meet you, y/n’ he smiled and you liked the way your name sounded coming out of his mouth straight away. ‘I take it you went to school with Seb?’

‘Yeah, we’re sort of family friends and I’ve known him since we were babies’ you laughed. ‘How do you know him?’

‘We used to play football together in the same academy before he got released’ he nodded, resting himself up against the cabinet so you decided to join him and he smiled as you placed yourself next to him.

‘Oh yeah I remember him telling me something about that once. He was so upset when it happened’

‘Yeah it’s tough, happed to a few of the guys’

‘What about you, do you still play?’ You asked, hoping if you spoke about him he’d forget to ask about you and thankfully your plan was working.

‘I do actually, yeah. I’ve just come back from a year playing abroad so I’m just assessing my options’

‘Wow, that’s so cool’

‘Yeah it’s different, glad to be home though’ he chuckled before bumping his shoulder into yours. ‘Anyway we’re meant to be talking about you, not me. Stop changing the subject’

‘You noticed that, huh?’ You laughed, rolling your eyes at how perceptive he was. ‘It’s nothing really, I feel a bit stupid now anyway’

‘Well you can’t leave me hanging’

‘Okay fine’ you gulped, taking a deep breath so you could tell him but to your surprise you felt at ease spilling your guts to him. ‘My ex is here and I didn’t expect him to be’

‘Ohhh I see. Bad break up?’

‘I don’t even know. He’s a year above and already at uni. I thought things were fine but he text me a few months back saying I distracted him too much and he wanted a fresh start from everything, including me, and I haven’t seen or heard from him since’ you shrugged. ‘Like it was so out of the blue but we’d only been together for around six months so i didn't take it too hard but it’s still a bit shit to see him’

‘It’s still a dick thing to do, I’m really sorry’ he told you, his brows furrowed like he was annoyed on your behalf but you sent him a small smile to let him know you were fine.

‘It’s okay, it is what it is. Like there’s not much I can do, I just feel weird. Not in like an upset I want him back way it’s more like when I saw him just now, I didn’t feel anything. Like…’ you trailed off, feeling like maybe you were saying too much but Mason's kind face had destroyed all your walls. ‘Sorry, I’m being silly. You didn’t need to listen to me rabbit on I bet your friends are wondering where you are’

‘No, y/n it’s fine-‘

‘I should be getting back out too, but I’ll see you around probably’

‘y/n-‘

‘Thanks for the drink’ you smiled. Cutting him off one last time before you got up and left as quick as you could.

All you wanted was to find your friends and keep away from everyone else. Be that your ex or your new friend with the pretty brown eyes that made your tummy swirl but you weren't having much luck. Your friends seemed to have vanished into thin air and you were walking around aimlessly until you decided to stop and call one of them in hopes they’d pick up.

You didn’t get a chance to hit call though, a tall shadow looming over you and when you looked up it was number one on your list of people you didn’t want to be acquainted with.

‘y/n? I thought I saw you earlier’ Logan smiled, but you were frozen in place. Not even being able to let a breath out as he looked down at you ‘listen I was hoping we could-‘

‘Ah there you are’ you suddenly heard. Looking to your left to see Mason walking towards you with two drinks in his hand and a cheeky smile on his face. ‘You left your drink in the other room, gorgeous. I got you a fresh one’ he smiled. Passing you a cup before wrapping his now free arm around your waist and kissing your temple gently. ‘You alright, mate? I’m Mason, y/n’s boyfriend. You are?’

Boyfriend? What on earth was he doing?

‘L-Logan’ he stuttered. Reaching out to shake Masons outstretched hand and the confusion on his face made you want to smile but soon enough his hard eyes were back on you. ‘I didn’t know you were seeing someone’

‘Were not exactly on speaking terms are we’ you bit back. Mason rubbing his thumb soothingly over your hip over the top of your dress and you were surprised at how relaxed you felt. Melting into his body as he pressed another kiss to your temple and you knew it was driving Logan mad.

‘How’d you guys meet? And when?’ Logan asked. An accusatory tone in his voice but Mason wanted to be the one to rain on his parade it seemed and you were pretty glad as your mind was blank.

‘It was Sainsburys, wasn’t it babe? Couple of months back I think. We were both reaching for the last tub of Ben and Jerrys but I got there first. She was so upset, like look at this face. You’d have to be messed up to want to upset someone this beautiful so I told her she could have it if she agreed to a date with me and thankfully for me she said yes’ Mason chuckled and you stared back at him in amazement as the made up story fell from his lips. Knowing you should maybe butt in and say something to make it more believable.

‘We made it official yesterday, he took me out to that new ice cream shop in town and we shared a sundae. You were so nervous, weren’t you’ you laughed, looking back up into his brown eyes but the bright smile he was sending your way relaxed you. ‘I have no idea why, there was no need to be. I said yes right away and would every time’

‘What did I ever do to deserve her, eh? Beautiful, smart, funny. I always say to her, her ex must be an idiot letting her go but if it means she’s mine now then I don’t care’ he told Logan. Resting his cheek on your head as he pulled you impossibly closer. ‘Sorry we’ve been talking your ear off, I think we’re just excited you know?’

‘Sure’ Logan grumbled, the annoyed look on his face satisfactory enough for you but when he finally made eye contact with you again you saw how pissed he actually was. ‘I need to go find someone but I’ll see you guys around’

‘Oh definitely, we’ll talk to you in a bit’ Mason smiled and with one last look at you, he stormed off into another room leaving you and Mason alone.

‘What the fuck was that’ you laughed, turning to face him but keeping close so he would keep his arm around you and thankfully he did.

‘Well I could tell from a mile off just by the look on your face he was probably your ex and I’ve always been a sucker for a damsel in distress’ he teased, squeezing your waist gently as he looked down at you with a smile.

‘That may be so, but you’ve sort of shot yourself in the foot a bit’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well you’re gonna have to stay with me for the rest of the night now, duh’ you giggled ‘if you leave me in my own he’ll get suspicious and try to talk to me’

‘Well lucky for you, I don’t see that as a bad thing’ he winked and you felt your cheeks flush. ‘Unless you want me to piss off?’

‘Nah, I think you’ve earned your spot’ you told him, biting your lip cheekily and the way his eyes flashed to your lips made your tummy flutter.

So you went and found your friends with Mason in tow and to say they were surprised by a random boys presence was an understatement. You quickly explained the situation though and they were more than happy to play along. Especially when Mason asked you all to join the guys he’d come with and they seemed more than happy to hang out with you.

Throughout the night you’d ended up practically sat in Mason's lap. His hands rarely leaving your waist as you got to know each other and you didn’t see Logan again that night. Whether that was because he’d left or was just staying out of your way you didn’t know but you were so wrapped up in Mason you didn’t care.

You couldn’t get over how gorgeous he was. Big brown eyes and a killer smile but it was his goofy personality and his insistent need to make you laugh that was really winning you over. He was cheeky and silly and the way he kept looking you up and down made you blush.

The only time you left him was to have a dance for a little bit. Still looking back at him often to find his eyes on you and when you slipped off to the loo you were surprised to hear your name being spoken by a voice you knew was Seb’s.

‘Oi mate, what’s going on with you an y/n?’

‘We’re just hanging out. She’s nice’ Mason replied. A soft smile adorning your lips at the fact he thought you were nice but you thought he was more than nice.

‘I know she is, but when I said there would be girls here I didn’t mean her. I meant the others who’s are just after a shag’

‘Who says I’m just looking for a shag?’ Mason retorted and you rolled your eyes at their silly conversation. ‘Come on man, you know me and you know I’m not like that’

‘Look all I know is, that girl is like a sister to me and if you hurt I swear to god-‘

‘Mate, I promise you I’m not gonna hurt her. I know we’ve been drinking and stuff but I actually really like her’ he confessed and you felt your tummy flip at his confession. ‘Do you think she’d go on a date with me?’

‘I mean I don’t see why not, but just know i'll be keeping an eye on you. Also if things do work out I expect a major role at the wedding’

‘You can be y/n’s man of honour’ Mason joked ‘I bet you’d look great in a dress’

You felt yourself flushing as they spoke about you. Thankful Seb was so protective over you and you made a mental note to find him later and give him a big hug but you didn’t want to intrude anymore so you left them to it. Bickering about who would look better in a dress and you tried to hold in your giggles as you rushed to the bathroom.

Once you’d finally used the loo you stepped outside into and empty hallway, only to be met by Mason coming out of one of the guest rooms a few doors down saying goodbye to whoever he was on the phone to and his eyes lit up when he saw you. Holding his hand out for you to take and when he pulled you into his body, you melted into him.

‘Hey girlfriend, I’ve been looking for you’

‘I’ve only been away from you for ten minutes’ you giggled. Letting him wrap his arms around your shoulders as you held him at his waist and the feeling of warmth and safety hit you like a truck.

‘Ten minutes too long’ he whispered, placing a gentle kiss between your eyebrows and you shut your eyes at the feel of it. ‘Come in here with me for a sec?’ He asked, nodding back into the room he’d just come from and even though you were going into a room alone with a boy you’d just met that night you still felt safe so you let him take your hand and lead you in.

‘Was everything okay?’ You asked, trying to make conversation to distract yourself from how nervous you felt and you quickly took a seat on the edge of the bed whilst he shut the door.

‘Yeah, fine. Just my dad wanting to talk about some football stuff but I told him it can wait’ he nodded. Sitting himself down next to you as he took your hand and threaded his fingers through yours. Sensing how nervous you were clearly but just the touch of him relaxed you. ‘You know when I came here tonight, I didn’t think I’d meet someone like you’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well Seb said there would be girls here but you’re so different to everyone I’ve ever met’

‘That’s because he didn’t mean me’ you laughed, remembering the conversation you’d overheard just before and you knew Seb was probably trying to set him up with one of the more popular girls.

‘Why wouldn’t he?’

‘Well I wasn’t exactly the most popular at school, or the prettiest. He probably meant someone like Kate or Jess. You know, the girls all the other guys wanted’

‘Well, funnily enough I have no idea who Kate or Jess are and even if I did I still think I’d have had my eye on you’ he winked and you felt yourself blush as you hid in his shoulder. ‘What? I’m serious’ he laughed, his free hand coming to your thigh so he could lift it over his lap and move you to straddle him. You’d never been in this situation before, alone in a room with a boy you’d only met a few hours prior but you knew you didn’t want to stop so you went with it and placed your arms around his neck as he held you at your waist.

‘Mase, stop it’ you giggled, realising you’d used the nickname everyone had been calling him for the first time to his face and you quickly hid your face in his neck out of embarrassment.

‘Am I making you flustered?’ He teased and you nodded into his neck when you felt his arms pull you to him tighter. ‘I’m sorry, love. But it’s true. Prettiest girl in here by a mile and that’s not me chatting shit. I saw you when I got here earlier and I thought I’d hit the jackpot when we bumped into each other in the garage. And anyway, forget all that. You're my girl for tonight, yeah? I can’t be looking anyone else’

‘Just for tonight?’ You teased pulling back to look at him and the pretty smile that took over his face made your knees weak.

‘We can extend my contract if you like. Depends if the terms are favourable though’

‘How about you take me to that ice cream shop we had our first date at and we can discuss it further’

‘Deal’ he breathed, but before you had a second to think he planted his lips on yours.

You'd been waiting all night for him to kiss you. The tension between the pair of you had been thick and now it’s like your bubble had burst.

He was gentle with you, keeping his hands planted firmly on your waist as he delicately brushed his lips against yours and you had to stop yourself from moaning into his mouth. Overwhelmed by the smell and taste of him and you almost lost it when you felt his tongue against your lips but you let him in straight away. Eager to feel as much of him as you could without pushing it too far.

‘I’ve wanted to kiss you all night’ he whispered when you finally broke apart for air, nose bumping into yours gently but you still didn’t have the confidence to look at him properly and kept your eyes planted on his chest.

‘Me too’ you giggled. ‘You know, I’ve never kissed a boy at a party before. Let alone be in a room alone with one’

‘Seriously?’ He laughed, a teasing tone to his voice and when he tickled your waist your eyes flashed up to look into his dark ones.

‘I’m a good girl, Mason’

‘Is that so’ he drawled, almost like he wanted to challenge you on it and there was something inside of you that made you want to keep teasing him so you carried on.

‘Yes it is’ you laughed. ‘I’m not that sort of girl’

‘Well-‘

Mason was cut off by the sound of the door opening. The pair of you quickly looking to see who’d interrupted you and to your shock it was Logan. His face bemused as his gaze landed on you and you knew your underwear was on show as your dress had ridden up but Mason was quick to move you to his side so you were shielded from him.

‘Shit, sorry mate I must have forgotten to lock the door’ Mason laughed but you didn’t hear a response. Just a grunt from Logan before he slammed the door behind him. ‘Well I don’t know about you but I’d say mission accomplished’

You didn’t take things any further that night. Sticking together still and swapping numbers before you left but he was quick to ask to see you again and you hadn’t really left each other alone since.

That had been four years ago and now you were newly married in your new shared home and it felt good to take a walk down memory lane for a little bit and realise how far you’d come.

You knew you needed to get back on track though, grabbing the box you needed to unpack and taking it inside as you daydreamed about Mason for the rest of the afternoon.

You had two more notes to find, and you were starting to run out of options of places to look. You knew you wanted to find one before bed and In the end you began looking in each room one by one until you came to one of the guest rooms.

It was still bare like all the others but a red box on one of the shelves at the back caught your eye. There shouldn’t have been anything in here so you carefully walked over to reach for it and your suspicions were confirmed when you saw the infamous lined paper neatly folded and taped to the lid of the box. You wanted to read the note first and not ruin what was inside so as carefully as you could you peeled the note away and unfolded it.

You gasped at the words on the paper. Breath stuck in your lungs as you couldn’t find a way to breathe properly but it was soon rushing out as you tried to stop your bottom lip from wobbling.

Mason had always wanted kids, you’d known it from your first date in the ice cream shop when you caught him looking fondly at a small child trying to eat its ice cream and when the pair of you were able to meet his niece Summer, it was written all over his face how much he was in his element. The twinkle in his eye letting you know that he couldn't wait for the pair of you to be in this position one day. In fact it was this very room when you were taking a tour of this house that Mason had picked out for a nursery and even though you’d laughed it off you now realised he was more serious than you thought.

The fact Mason felt settled enough with you now to try for a little one of your own made your skin tingle all over. The shaky breath falling for your lips and you couldn’t contain your smile at the thought of a tiny Mason to keep you company when Mason was away.

Your attention turned to the box in your lap next. Getting a better look at it to see it was a small shoe box and you couldn’t wait to get inside of it. Your eyes filling up with tears again before you’d even got the lid off but you were a mess by the time you had the little trainers in your hands. A matching version to the ones Mason had recently gifted you and you felt the sobs creep up your throat until they were mixed with your giggles.

There was one note left and it was driving you insane. You had the house nearly tipped upside down by the end of the day looking for it and it was still nowhere to be seen. Looking in every room and every cupboard and you were discovering things about the house you didn’t even know. The most exciting thing was a door in the back of your cupboard under the stairs that when opened had a secret staircase that made its way into your walk-in wardrobe and you made a mental note to ask Mason about it when he was home as you had no idea what that would be for.

It was useless though and you took yourself off to bed knowing you’d have the whole of the next day too look but it was bugging you that he’d hidden it so well.

Mason would be home later the next day and you wanted to have them all found but it seemed pretty hopeless until about mid morning when you realised your wardrobe was probably the only place you hadn’t looked.

It seemed like the last resort but you carefully opened every drawer until you came to your special underwear section. There sat a black box with the tiny note you’d been going crazy over and you quickly opened it with excitement to see what he had to say.

What? You wondered. Picking up the black box and thinking whatever it was was probably inside but you weren’t prepared for what you were about to be met with.

You noticed the colour first. A deep but vibrant red, similar to the colour of the dress you wore the first night you met and you carefully took each piece out and laid them on your bed so you could work out what mason had got for you this time.

It was quite possibly one of the most revealing sets of underwear you’d ever seen. The cups of the bra covered by just some lace that matched the sides of the thong but it was the belt and choker situation that came with it that was making you blush furiously. Thinking there was no way in hell you’d ever feel confident enough to wear it but thinking about the look on Masons face when you did made you chuckle.

If Mason wanted you in these when he got back then that’s what he would be getting. Jumping in the shower so you could get yourself ready for him and when you were in there you had the perfect idea. Wanting to play Mason at his own game but you didn’t have as much time to prepare as he’d had and you wondered if it was a little silly but you went with it. Even more excited for Mason to get home in a few hours.

When Mason finally made it home, all he wanted to do was dump his bags and go and find you. He’d missed your touch for the last few days and he’d been thinking about nothing else on the drive over from the airport.

Little did he know you’d have your own game for him to play and he noticed the paper taped to the door as soon as he walked up the drive. Smiling cheekily to himself as he peeled it from the door and eagerly looked it over.

He smiled softly as he read over your writing and as soon as he opened the front door he felt relaxed. Yes the pair of you had only been here around and week and yes it was still empty but he knew you were here somewhere and wherever you were that’s where home was.

So he did as you asked. Going to the kitchen first where he found a few slices of pizza that he presumed were from one you’d made yourself tonight and a fresh bottle of Pepsi on the side. Mason loved your pizza and would always beg you to make it but it wasn’t exactly part of his meal plan so you only made it for special occasions. It was just what he needed after his flight though and he took a giant bite whilst unfolding the next note to see what you had to say next.

He’d managed to finish one slice whilst reading the note so he took the next slice with him along with all his bags over to the utility room. Thinking this was just your way of making him put all his stuff away and not leave it dumped by the door as he always did but he went along with it as he knew it would take longer to see you if he cheated. He also knew how excited he got when he put all the notes out for you and he didn’t want to spoil your fun so he did what you wanted and made his way over.

Another note greated him there, this one attached to the fabric softener and he had a feeling you were about to ask him to separate his washing out but he still opened it with a smile. Thinking to himself he’d do it gladly if it meant it got him one step closer to you.

Mason was too excited to wait. Popping his bags on the side before rushing up the stairs and he knew it would just take one more flight up to find you in your shared room but he still did as you asked. Rushing into the bathroom to find the dryer on and a note attached to the mirror on his side of the sink which he tore down immediately.

He felt himself melt at the way you’d made sure he had warm clothes ready for him when he got back so he quickly rid the clothes from his body before reaching for the toasty ones in the dryer. A comfy pair of grey shorts and one of his baggy tee’s that he got on as quickly as he could so they were still warm and now he wanted to see you more than ever.

He was over and into the storage cupboard in a flash. Not caring about what you might be asking him to do he just wanted to see you and with each note he was growing more impatient so he stormed in and tore the paper from the back wall in hopes this would be the final piece of the puzzle.

Good boy huh? He thought, the term making him smile as he could tell what sort of mood you were in but he followed your instructions and went into the back of the cupboard where he found the door in question.

‘What the hell’, Mason whispered under his breath. Turning the handle gingerly and to his surprise it opened fairly easily. Light filling the dim room from inside and once it was fully open he looked up to find a set of stairs and an open doorway at the top with the light on in the room upstairs. ‘Baby? You up there?’ He called. Not hearing an answer exactly but the musical sound of your laugh let him know you were.

The thought of seeing you pushed every worry out of his body and he took the stairs two at a time until he was at the top where he found himself in your walk-in wardrobe.

‘What the hell, did you build a staircase while I was gone?’ He joked, rounding the corner to hopefully see you but all the air left his lungs once he had.

There you were, laid on your side at the foot of the bed in your silky robe that you usually wore for special occasions and he froze on the spot. You looked perfect. Not sure if you looked extra good because you’d made some effort or just because he hadn’t seen you in a while but all he knew was you made him feel like a kid at Christmas.

‘Hi Mase’ you whispered. Catching on to how nervous he seemed as he played with the hem of the t-shirt he was wearing and avoided your eyes but you wanted him closer no matter how blushy and stuttery he was.

‘Hi baby’ he eventually got out, eyes flashing up to yours for a split second before he sent you a lopsided smile that made your heart flutter.

‘Come here’ you told him, moving so you were now on your knees at the edge of the bed and when he approached you you cupped his jaw as he gently held your waist. ‘I’ve missed you’

‘I’ve missed you too’

‘You sure?’ You laughed, joking about the fact he could barely look you in the eye but he just laughed before looking at you properly

‘Sorry, you're making me nervous’ he whispered, his cheeks flushed but his eyes were happy and that made you smile too. ‘Can I have a kiss please’

‘Of course you can’ you chuckled, leaning in slowly for him to meet you halfway and the way he kissed you made your head spin.

‘Why are you so nervous, Mase? It's only me’ you whispered after you’d pulled away. Noticing he still couldn’t look at you properly and his cheeks and nose were a deep pink.

‘I think just after that note I left you with the shoes. I just wanted to make sure you’re fully on board like I don’t want you to think I’m forcing you into anything-‘

‘Baby no’ you laughed ‘of course I’m on board’

‘Yeah?’ He smiled and you nodded back shyly. ‘I’ve always wanted a family and I’ve always known I wanted it to be with you. I’ve wanted to try for a while but now you’re finally Mrs Mount and we’re getting settled in here, I just don’t think I can wait anymore. I know we’re young but I really think we can do this’

‘I think so too’ you smiled, nodding along to make him believe this is what you saw for your future too and the look on his face took your breath away.

‘You’re gonna be the best mum, I know it’

‘And you’re gonna be the best dad’ you whispered, watching his face light up before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You felt his hands fiddling with the tie around your waist soon after, letting him untie it carefully before he peeled open your robe to reveal the fancy new underwear he’d bought for you and even though you were petrified about being in something so revealing, the way Masons eyes flashed over your skin made you feel weak.

‘You fucking perfect’ he whispered, fingertips lightly trailing your body as he drunk up every last inch of you. Eyes all over your body as he whispered to himself about how lucky he was and you almost felt your legs give way until his hands snaked around your body to grip your bare bum.

He was kissing you soon after, slow and sexy like he wanted to savour every last drop of you and when he placed your arms around his neck you held on tightly as he grabbed your thighs and lifted you into the air.

It always stunned you how strong Mason was. Lifting you up like it was nothing so you could wrap your legs around him but he was sitting down on the edge of the bed soon after. Letting you straddle his thighs as you continued to kiss and as soon as you were in his lap you felt him hard underneath you.

‘The way I’m feeling right now I wanna put ten babies in you’ he whispered, making you giggle as he squeezed your thighs before pushing the robe off of you completely. You tried to respond but couldn’t, Mason capturing your lips again and you moaned into his mouth as he began to help you rock your hips over his lap. Feeling him grown beneath you but soon enough he’d flipped the pair of you over so you were on your back and he was hovering over you. Ridding himself of his T-shirt and you felt the familiar wave of excitement rush down your spine and to your core. ‘All I’ve been thinking about the last few days is getting to see you like this’

‘Well I hope I didn’t disappoint’ you whispered, letting his lips ghost over your skin and when he giggled into your chest you laughed along with him.

‘You could never’ he told you truthfully before finally getting to do what he’d wanted to do with you for days. The same Mason you’d always known and loved but a new beginning on the horizon and you couldn’t wait to finally start the life you’d always dreamed of.

Thank you so much for reading 🩷 I really hope you enjoyed it and if you could leave me a little feedback that would mean so much 😘

[madthetruemad]

it's ok, i'm ok

(implied) simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader x johnny "soap" mactavish

cw | insecurities, depictions of facial scars (reader), mentions of being interrogated/tortured, open ended, may continue (?), etc.

sum | a mask protects you, and you're determined to keep it that way.

When you look in the mirror, you immediately feel a tinge of disgust. Your eyes racked over the scars that littered your face. There was one long nasty one, on the right side. It marred the skin terribly. It reached from the top of your eyebrow and down all the way to your chin and the scar was not straight at all. It was jagged, cut with haste. You could still feel the pain lingering there before your eyes lingered on the other scars. One was a horizontal line slashed across the middle of your nose, another perfectly symmetrical with your jawline on the left side of your face, and finally the last one. The one that was smaller than the others and cut across the left side of your temple.

The scars were given to you a year or two ago. You can’t exactly remember the date as the memories start to blur, but what happened to you was as clear as day. It was an interrogation, the squad you were apart of had been captured and slowly the enemy began cycling through every single one of you until you were the last. But you gave them nothing, even as they slashed your face up.

You could still feel your nails being pulled out, your nose being broken, your-

You shook your head and reached for your mask, the black fabric covered both your mouth and nose before you reached for your favorite baseball cap and fixed it over your head. It wasn’t a perfect covering, but it did its job. The job being to hide most if not all of your face from your comrades in arms. You learned all too well, that the men would much rather have a pretty face to look at then a scarred one (as you came to realize with the women in the squadron who … were not scarred as you were).

And as you got ready for the day and to head out to base, you wondered if you would find someone who wouldn’t care about your scarred appearance, but … you found it highly unlikely.

“L/n, meet taskforce 141, you’ll be joining them from here on out.”

The moment you get on base and being handed a new team assignment wasn’t on your bucket list, but you had no complaints. Your original team was already disbanding to begin with. Most of them retiring after they were rescued from being captured, but you decided to stay. If only to keep your mind occupied.

And even as you introduced yourself and met the tf 141 guys, you still had that ache in your heart. It wouldn’t be the same, but at least you will be doing something.

“So, L/n, do they call you anything else?”

Its when you are left alone with tf 141 to “better get to know them” when you finally come back to reality.

“I don’t have a nickname if that’s what your wondering.”

“Really,” asked the man with a mohawk, you already guessed he was the one called Soap, “they just call you l/n?”

You merely nodded, the words seeming to have left you. Which was another thing you noticed. A change that just didn’t sit right. You used to talk a lot, you always filled the silence, made things louder, brighter, happier almost. But now, you just meander with the silence in hopes that someone else starts talking so you don’t have to.

Soap merely grinned at you before reaching out and clapping you on the back, “well, then No Name, guess we’ll just have ta figure somethin out.”

At the mention of the words “No Name” you had a feeling that that was what your nickname was going to be. And as it turns out, you would be right.

“No Name! Come check this out!”

Fixing your baseball cap and adjusting your mask a bit, you trotted over to Soap, eyes seeming to bore into what he was looking at on his phone.

“Really?”

“What? Oh come on, you can’t possibly say this isn’t funny.”

You rolled your eyes, the action going unnoticed due to the bill of your cap, “whatever you say, Soap.”

And that was how the weeks followed. You trained silently with them. Soap being the only one who seemed to try and tear away at your walls, but nothing seemed to work as you were as silent if not even more silent than Ghost was.

Speaking of the man, he was probably the one you liked being around most.

He didn’t look at you when he talked, nor does he try to acknowledge you. Something that you found being grateful for. And when he did have to communicate something to you, his eyes never seemed to pry nor did his actions seem like he wanted to know more either. You found that you liked the little to no attention you got, and luckily when you are near the man no one else tries to get to you as well. And Soap? He tends to pay attention to his friend more too. Another thing you were grateful for.

Though, the brief simplicity you had gained and the happiness of blissful silence all seemed to come crashing down when a small group of women that shared the barracks with you stole both your mask and hat.

“So that’s what you look like…”

You were not amused when the women who you fought alongside with more than a couple of times started to crowd around you to get a good look at your face. It had caused your usual straight look to turn more down, the obvious hint of displeasure and anger clear on your features.

“Where’s my mask,” you managed to ask as you swatted a girl’s hand away.

One of them giggled, “we sort of hid it from you.”

You glowered, “where?”

You knew the question was fruitless as the girls scattered immediately the moment you started to get out of bed. And before you could make the move to look for both of the items, you chanced a look at the clock and almost let out a groan before holding in.

You had no time to waste on looking for either of your belongings, nor did you have any extras in your locker.

Today was going to be a shit day.

“What.”

The single word that left your mouth was more of a statement than a question as you stood next to Ghost and Soap, both who seemed to openly stare at you as the three of you waited for your Captain and Gaz to show up at the meeting point.

“It’s nothing,” Soap answered a bit too quickly for your liking, and when you shifted your gaze towards Ghost you immediately hated that fact that his eyes were directed right at your face. You instantly started to miss when he didn’t look at you at all.

“Girls in the barracks hid my mask is all,” the little information you relented was hopefully enough to get them to stop staring.

However, it wasn’t enough.

“Didn’t have a spare,” you managed again. But the stares they gave you was all you could feel, “know my face isn’t great to look at, once I get a new one or find my old mask, you won’t have to stare so damn much.”

And when Ghost finally talks to you, not at you or near you, like he really talks to you and sees you for the first time, your brain just short circuits.

“Why? You’re pretty to look at as you are now. Soap and I just don’t know how to act around a pretty lady.”

[slut4thebroken]

tit for tat

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Robert Fischer x dom!reader

Summary | Robert gets all bratty when you won’t deepthroat him, so you decide to show him how hard it actually is.

Warnings | Smut, strap-ons lol, blow jobs, deep throating, gagging, he’s a bit of a brat, praise, and a dash of dacryphilia hehe, he’s so fucking pathetic 😩🫶

Words | 1.1 k

Notes | god I want to ruin him so fucking bad

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 5: strap-ons

He whined loudly and tugged on your hair, forcing you down further on his cock. When the tip hit the back of your mouth and you gagged, you pulled back. 

“Stop it. I won’t tell you again.” You warned, making him pout. You took him in your mouth again and he mewled as his back arched off the bed. While you mostly paid attention to the tip, you’d occasionally bob up and down. Every single time you went down, he whined and his grip on your hair tightened. For a while, he obeyed and didn’t try to do anything else, but when he pushed you down on his cock until you gagged again, you finally snapped and pulled off. 

“No..” He whined, jerking your head back down. 

“Do I need to tie you up?” 

“Why can’t you just go all the way down?” He whimpered pathetically. “It feels so good.” Something about the way he said that— the way he made it seem like deepthroating an entire cock over and over again was such a casual thing to do— really irked you. 

“Because, Robert,” he whined when you didn’t use a pet name, “it’s hard and I’m not in the mood for it right now.” 

“Hard?” He scoffed, only getting brattier. “You do this all the time, how can it still be hard?” You stared at him, already coming up with a plan in your head, and you could see his expression slowly start to falter once he realized. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think deepthroating was an Olympic level skill.” He huffed sarcastically, originally trying to backtrack to avoid being punished, but unable to resist giving you another bratty retort. 

This would’ve been when you punished him— maybe ruined his orgasm or spanked his cock until he came… but you had a far better idea. 

When you suddenly got up, he whined brattishly. “Where are you going?” He pouted, watching you walk to the closet where all of the sex toys were stored. You ignored him and grabbed the strap, as well as a dildo that was just a little bit smaller than Robert’s cock. “I thought we weren’t gonna do that today.” He didn’t necessarily sound upset, just a little caught off guard that oral was suddenly turning into pegging. Still ignoring him, you walked back over and put everything on, then grabbed his hair and dragged him off the bed, making him cry out. Once he was kneeling at your feet, you kept a firm grip on his hair and pulled his head closer so he was right in front of the strap.

“Suck.” You said plainly. His brows scrunched together and he looked between you and the dildo. 

“But I wanna come.” He frowned. 

Tightening your grip on his hair, you lowered your voice into something more menacing, “Suck or you’ll be wearing the cage for a week.” His frown deepened and you could tell he wanted to protest, but he just huffed and shuffled closer to you. He grabbed the base of the dildo and reluctantly wrapped his lips around the tip, starting to suck slowly. 

When you saw his free hand reach down to start touching his own cock, you jerked his head back by his hair, making him hiss in pain. “Hands behind your back.” You ordered, and he huffed again, all but rolling his eyes. He put his hands behind his back and started bobbing up and down slowly, not even reaching halfway. 

“Take it all the way down.” You said sternly. 

He pulled back and looked up at you with a pout. “Can’t...” He whined pathetically, no doubt trying to guilt trip you into changing your mind. 

“What’s your color?” 

“…Green.” He muttered. 

“Then fucking learn.” Your voice was significantly more harsh than just a second ago and you started guiding him back on the dildo before he could protest. He went down and tried to go back up, but you kept him in place, slowly pushing him down even more. When he gagged, you finally let him pull off to catch his breath. “C’mon,” you demanded, jerking his head impatiently, “go all the way down, it feels so good.” You said dryly and he immediately frowned when you mocked his previous words. 

“I said I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t care. Suck.” 

You forced him back down and adjusted your grip to have both hands holding his head instead. He gagged again and tried to pull off, but you kept pushing him down, trying to breach his throat barrier. When he coughed and sputtered, instinctively bringing his hands up to push at your thighs, you let him have another break. A string of saliva connected his lips to the dildo and you could already see the tears in his eyes.

“I don’t know why you’re struggling so much. It’s not like deepthroating is an Olympic level skill.” You sneered, pulling him back down on the dildo again. You were determined to actually get it all the way in, so you continued pulling him down. “This would be a lot easier if I could actually feel where it was in your mouth…” You muttered to yourself, then addressed him directly, “Relax your throat, angel.”

He gagged and sputtered, tears streaming down his cheeks and saliva rolling down his chin and the toy. Just when you were about to give him another break, the dildo popped past his throat barrier and the gentle force you were using made him go all the way down, his face hitting your pelvis. 

“Oh good boy.” You moaned, bending over a little and wrapping your arms around his head, holding him firmly in place as he struggled. “Hold it, baby. Just a little longer.” He let out a strangled sound that was muffled by the dildo and squeezed your thighs, digging his nails into them. After another moment, you finally let him pull away and he coughed almost violently, taking in ragged breaths. 

“That was so good, angel.” You said softly, using one hand to pet his hair, trying to soothe him. “Can you tell me your color?” The way he kept coughing and breathing heavily made you start to worry that you went too far. 

He finally calmed down and cleared his throat to speak, looking up at you with teary eyes, his lashes even prettier all wet. “Green… ‘m sorry.” You cooed and brought your hand down to cup his cheek, tilting his head up to face you. 

“I know. I think a little more of this will make us even, hm?” It definitely would not make up for all the times you’ve deepthroated him since you started dating, but it wasn’t really about that. When he nodded, your lips curled up into a small smile and you brushed your thumb over his bottom lip that was still lightly coated in his spit. “Good boy.”

[odiesdayoff]

Kinktober: Tommy Shelby

Pair: Modern!Thomas Shelby x fem!reader

Summary: Your roommate's father doesn't approve of your vape.

Warning: Age Gap/Best friend's father/Dubious Consent/Tom makes reader get high

“I found it!” You yelled from across the dorm, your head poking out from behind the bed. Still partially stuck between the bed and the wall, you held up your strawberry-flavored weed pen to show Charlie. The amount of anxiety that losing it gave you was enough to realize that you and your roommate may have gotten a bit too reliant on the drug. 

You brought the pen to your mouth, but Charlie slapped it from your hand. “Dude, my family will be here in minutes! It can’t smell like Ganja Gooch in here.”

“What? You don’t have weed up in Birmingham?” You laughed. From what you knew about his family, they weren’t the most…clean cut people in the world. Why would they be upset over something so trivial as a weed pen? In your two years of being best friends with Charlie, you’d never met his parents. Only his Aunt Ada, who was sweet.

He placed the pen on your dresser. “Shut up. When are you parents coming?”

Most of the already small dorm room was covered in boxes, trash bags, and miscellaneous crap. “At 5. You’ll probably be moved out by then.” You pocketed the pen and began folding your bedding to shove it into the box it originally came in.

His phone started to ring. “That’s my mum. Are you sure you can’t go to Mary’s dorm?” You still weren’t sure of the reason that he was so cagey about his family. He had been to your house over Spring break this year and you were still in the dark.

“I have to finish packing.” It wasn’t a lie, you had put off packing until the final day. Studying for exams and final papers took up all of your free time. That and Mario Kart.

You knew that Charlie came from a rich family, but this was a new level that you haven't seen before. His father dressed like he was from the 1920’s or something, with a full suit and peaky cap. You could smell the cigarette smoke infused into his clothes before you could see him. 

His mother (or maybe step-mother, you weren’t sure) wore an elegant dress that was both fashionable and functional. Her deep brown hair was curled and pinned back. Her eyes lit up at the sight of you. “You must be the infamous Y/n!” She pulled you into a hug and you could smell her perfume mixed with a bit of her husband’s smoke. “You’re even prettier in person than in those silly Instagram photos Charlie posts.”

“It’s really lovely to meet you, Mrs. Shelby. I can’t believe we’ve been friends for so long and have never met before.” Charlie was still holding the door open for his little sister, Ruby, and didn’t hear your diss. 

She waved you off. “Call me Lizzie, dear. This is Thomas.” She pulled the sleeve of her husband and made him face you. He barely looked at you, though you did notice the way his eyes lowered down your body.

“I still don’t see why we had to be the ones to move Charles out, Lizzie. We can pay people for that.” Lizzie rolled her eyes. Why couldn’t he understand sentimentality and actually being present in the pivotal moments of his only son’s life? He only had one more year of university left. It was strange to hear him be called Charles. It felt all too fancy for someone so…normal. I suppose his father wouldn’t say the same. 

Lizzie scoffed. “Just start moving boxes, Tom.” She turned back to you. “So, where are you from?”

You decided to ignore Thomas. “Norwich.”

Charlie handed a smaller bag to Ruby while Thomas took a storage container. He pulled out his ID and opened the front door for the three of them. “The elevator’s already broken, so it’s lucky we’re on the first floor.”

~~

Having Charlie’s side of the room empty was a surreal sight. So many memories that were made in the room were basically erased at this point.

You took the pen and opened a window, taking it in and blowing it out the window. “And here I thought you were little miss sunshine.” You began to cough and gasp for fresh air at the sudden voice. Turning around, you locked eyes not with Charlie, but with his father.

Smoke billowed from your mouth. “Mr. Shelby- I…thought you all had left.” You rasped out the words, reaching for a water bottle to try and soothe your throat. He smirked at your attempt to hide your distress.

“My wife left her purse. I see you didn’t waste a second with your…” He snatched the pen from your hand. “What is this? Can’t you get real weed here?”

“It’s easier to manage. And rechargeable.” He examined the pen, shaking his head. He brought the pen to his lips and took a hit. The smoke left his mouth in a way you’d never seen before. It was skilled, he didn’t even cough. It formed into rings that blew in your direction. 

“Can barely taste it. How much weed is actually in this?” He examines the pen, and then his glance shifts towards you. "I bet you can barely take it, yeah?"

You rolled your eyes. "I'm not that intolerant. I've been high before."

He tosses it to you. "Suck in until it blinks."

It was a bit of a surprise that he knew what a blinker even was. He seemed like the type to exclusively use one brand of cigarettes since he was a teenager. As if he'd step foot in one of the fancy dispensaries you and Charlie were used to.

You maintained eye contact as you put the tip of the pen in your mouth and began to suck the flavored smoke from it. It took only a few seconds for it to blink and you could finally exhale. It was as if your lungs had never touched oxygen before. They screamed at you to cough, but you didn't want to prove him right.

"Another." He ordered, taking a small step closer. You weren't sure if he was getting taller or if it was just a mix of weed and perspective.

The vape was already hot as you rested it on your bottom lip. You breathed in again, holding it until it blinked. The taste was much worse and the sting against your throat felt like fresh salt in an open wound.

You coughed, only once. Typically, it took you much longer to feel the instant effects of the drug, but you could feel your hands already trembling under the eye of Thomas.

He nodded, finally close enough to put his calloused hands on the soft skin of your waist. "Again."

Something about his gaze and the absolution in his voice made it impossible for you to deny what he wanted. Your shaky hand held the vape up and you sucked.

His slightly chapped lips pressed against yours once you took the pen from your mouth. All of the smoke leaving your system funneled into his. You couldn't deny the way his contact made your knees weak and thighs squeeze together.

The weed was taking effect rapidly. Your head was spinning as you tried to focus on him. His lips traveled from your lips to your cheek to your ear. "Tell me, have you and Charles ever had sex?"

The words briefly brought you out of the weed and lust-driven stupor. You shook your head. "No...we're just friends."

He laughed. "Are you gay?" You denied. "Is he gay?" Again, you denied. "How has he not ever taken the chance to bed you?"

You could barely answer. His hand trailed up your leg and under your thin dress. Nothing could hide the heat that emanated from between your legs.

His free hand took the vape from yours and pressed it against your lips. Instinctively, you took a deep breath in, letting the smoke fill your aching lungs once again. "Is it because you're a virgin? Or maybe...you have an affinity for older men?"

You nearly stopped feeling the warmth of his hand on your leg until he pressed his fingers against the now-damp fabric of your panties. It was humiliating how much he turned you on...and how much the feeling of being humiliated by him turned you on even more.

"Mr. Shelby.." You coughed out, your throat sore and stinging with each syllable. As much as you wanted to scream at him to actually touch you, it would be too much to say at once.

Thomas Shelby wasn't a mind-reader, but he could read when a woman wanted him. He slipped his fingers underneath your panties and pushed into you. Your slick cunt welcomed him in without resistance at all. "Want me to stop? Leaving you high and horny while I go back to my wife and children?"

You shook your head no, silently pleading for him to do something over then idly have his fingers knuckle-deep within you. He curled his fingers, hitting the spots that your own hand couldn't reach if you tried, and moaned into his shoulder.

"Take another and I'll keep giving you what you want." Dazed, you sucked more from the pen. It was far more than you were used to, especially in such a short amount of time. Your legs threatened to give out, for multiple reasons.

"Please..." Your fingers lightly caressed his pants. It had been a while since you had anyone touch you, let alone someone like him.

He got the idea, pulled his hand away, and quickly freed himself from the confines of his trousers. There were condoms somewhere in this room, hidden in one of the boxes so your family wouldn't see that you even thought about something as evil as sex.

There wasn't time to look. You needed him now and it was only a matter of time before Charlie and the rest of them got suspicious. You pulled your panties down to your ankles and allowed his knee to settle between your trembling legs.

His lips trailed against your ear. "I'm going to show you a real high."

[jujutsukgojo]

My gifts to you

feitan portor x reader

Summary: You knew him for years for only moments at a time. Yet, you take it upon yourself to love and mourn him anyway, even when the world won't. tw: light smut, slight yandere feitan, spoilers, mentions of murder, light angst, fluff(?), injuries, cheating, time skips an: didn't mean for it to be this long. Feitan is a bit tricky for me but oh well :) kind of inspired by criminal minds 'no way out'. 10.8k

“If you tie it like this, it should stay, okay?” You tap the boy’s foot. Although he is smaller than you in height, his feet are bigger. It’s quite comical but you don’t dare laugh. In this blasted city, you’d be bound to die for such a thing. Especially if you laugh at someone with crazy hair and carries a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire.  

  He says something in a foreign language that you can’t understand. If you are correct, it may be inverted Japanese. In the books that one kid collects, there is a country, Japan, where the common language originates. Since the common language isn’t his mother tongue, it makes you wonder where he’s from and why he’s here. 

  The boy stands up to his full, but short, height. You sit on random rubble and look up at him, waiting for what he’ll do next. Will he call over Phinks or even bring Uvogin? He hangs out with Phinks mainly but who knows these days. 

   Instead of swinging the bat at you or calling over his friends, he pats your head awkwardly. You don’t make any sudden movements or noises. The boy leaves right after. A sigh escapes your lips after he leaves you behind.  

   What's his name again? Feitain? 

__________

  In your hut, you slightly stir the food that sizzles in the pan you found. It’s rare to come across tomatoes and eggs but you managed this time. The smell is mouth watering. You hope no one else can smell it. 

As much as you want to live elsewhere, this is what you settle for at the moment. In another world, you’d be out of this city and somewhere clean and safe. Like the church or something. No, even better than the church. You’ve heard of the outside where there are bright flashing lights and diamonds and pearls on people’s necks. There are flowers of all colors out there. Different shapes, smells, and meanings, they’re all beautiful. You hear that food isn’t scavenged but bought or given to people without a price.  

   People said they’ve seen the safety of children your age that play without a care. There are parents for the lost kids and doctors for the injured. Clean clothes and showers on the regular. You can even see the sun clearly and the big, round moon that doesn't bring out the wolves in men. 

There are pastors and priests that don’t turn people away, either. Hell, you have even wondered if there were schools there that allow everyone to get in. You're sure that you are reading and doing math wrong. How embarrassing.  

Finally done, you place the food on a plastic plate you found. You made sure to wipe the grime off the plate and rinsed it with clean water before using it. Even though you can just eat out of the pan, you want to seem sophisticated like the outside. They don't eat out of pans or use dirty plates. 

  The food steams and is welcoming. Without a lot of utensils, you pick at it with your hands. It burns at first but you’re too hungry. The flavor bursts in your mouth. Even without the proper seasonings, it’s still heaven. You haven’t eaten in a while so you’ll take what you can get.  

   Suddenly, the boy, Feitan, enters your hut. You gasp and protectively cover your food. He brings his foot out. His shoe, which he stole, is untied again. You swallow the substance and point out, “I taught you how to tie them.” 

“Tie.” 

“I taught you.” You set your plate down.  

“Tie.” You roll your eyes and pat your thighs. He walks over to you and places his dirt caked shoe on your lap. Slowly, you tie them.  

“There, see? Come on now, you need to learn. A little boy can’t grow without tying his shoes.” 

“I’m not little boy.” You give a breathy chuckle. “Of course you are, honey.” 

  He leans in close to your face. “I’m older than you.”  

...He does hang out with Phinks, who is a couple years older than you. In fact, it is rare to see them apart. Is it possible that it’s true? Is Phinks the type to be friends with someone who is younger?

 Curious, you ask, “Then why are you so short?” His eyes widened in shock. Then, strangely, he laughs while patting your head harshly. Studying his face revealed what looks like the beginning of a sinister smile.

  He looks at your plate and sits down in front of you. You’re both on the dirt floor. 

 “Give me.” You scoff and snap at him. “No! Find your own!” 

The little beast decided that the two of you should ‘share’. He smacks on his food, making you want to punch him repeatedly. He’s gaunt and bony, but not really bad like last time. His face has a tiny bit of roundness to it. 

  “Stop staring.” He inhales a tomato. “You look better than last time.”

“Better?” He cocks his head to the side. The remnants of the tomato smeared a little on his cheek.

“Yeah, healthier.” He stares at you for a second. “Thanks.” His accent is thick, and you still can’t place it. Nevertheless, you understand. Afterwards, much to your surprise, he sleeps in your hut now that his belly is full. Satisfied and strangely not afraid, you follow suit. It’s nice to have a friend, however strange.

You are barely awake, sleep still heavy in your eyes, when you see him pop up. Drool is crusted on his cheek, and he rubs his eyes. He yawns and then spots you next to him. Feitan eyes the entry of the hut then back at you. He puts the only cover you have on you then pets your head. 

  Before he leaves, he places his bat in your hand. Feitan secures the entry as he exits the hut. 

_____________

  It’s been years since you and Feitan have talked. You've gotten familiar with him but when Sarasa had died in such a disrespectful and gruesome way, he withdrew. In the meantime, you waited for him and studied a power you discovered. No matter the eyes that were always on you, you didn’t care about the mysterious and hidden audience. 

  You don’t know what it’s called but it started when you witnessed some kid about to get her ass handed to her by some thugs. The man had moved a pair of scissors without using his hands. They aimed right towards her and in a moment of instinct, you rushed to push her out of the way. Unfortunately, the scissors stabbed you in the shoulder.  

  It was then did you feel the rush of a force so strong, that it knocked everyone away from you. A faint white light that glowed from your skin that only your eyes could see. As you looked around in shock, you saw that same glow coming from that man and his friends. 

  You were gasping when you fell to your knees. “I-I’m sorry. I can’t be here!” The girl your age ran for her life and left you behind. In a moment of fear, you call out to her to help you. You were so afraid; you couldn't tell if the screams were hers or yours. Given the situation, you were too rattled, terrified and hurt, to focus.

The men shook for a second then got up to face you. The blood from your shoulder wasn’t stopping its flow. Crimson red stained your clothes and the ground. It was all so strange, such an unusual feeling of adrenaline that you couldn’t help but memorize. Almost as if the world had finally made sense. Every single thing became so much clearer to your dismay.  

  The men came towards you with malicious intent. While putting pressure on your injury, you managed to kick one of their legs, causing them to buckle and hurt his knee. He screamed in agony. 

  “G-get away!” You try to stand. The press of your hand on the wound isn’t helping. Is it supposed to bleed this much? It hit your shoulder, but did it nick something?  

  You need to stop it, to heal and get away from them. In this city, people like you are in danger from men like them. If you don’t get away, you’ll end up like Sarasa. She was never really close to you. She was a nice girl who always looked for video tapes, so you'd help her from time to time. Yet, her death scarred everyone since it was so close to home. And now, you no doubt are facing the exact same situation. Wrong place, wrong time.  

   Same fate.  

You fell back on the ground and looked at the sky. It has always been so dirty, just like the city due to pollution. Still so young, you know you won’t see what it really looks like. In the corner of your eye, you spot something green. A small clover with four leaves. 

  One time, an old man told a story of how four-leaf clovers are a sign of good luck. By the intense feeling and pressure of your eyes, you know it’s not true. Pain in all ways makes tears fall from your eyes. Lips wobbling at how unfair everything is and that you will never see the sun. The outside must really be heaven, and for someone so young who hasn’t committed a sin, you are wondering if you can go.

  Suddenly, flowers that you never knew blossomed around you. The soft petals touched your filthy skin and got rid of the aches. The blood on your shoulder faded from view as well as the pain. A soft and beautiful hum whispered in your ear. You truly believed it to be in your head, an imagination of paradise as you leave. Heaven, they call it. You must be close to the outside world then. 

  This must be it, you thought. There was no pain from a strike or fear. Just closed eyes and peace. Something you know you couldn’t get in the atrocious city.  

It ends. You were shocked as the beautiful flowers disappeared. Heaven, would you reject someone? 

  The men didn’t hurt you. The one whose knee was broken was able to move his leg. His red hair kind of glowed in the sun, and brown eyes were wide. He muttered a soft ‘thank you’ and walked away without a limp. His friends followed.  

   After that, you had realized that your ability wasn’t anything like scissors or something scary. It was to heal and be healed.

Although after immediately learning this, you didn't go out of your way to find the source of the screams in the direction the people went. First was the girl, then the group of men. After what you went through, it didn't seem like a good idea. 

 Feitan, somehow, got wind of it. Now in his later teen years you both estimate, he sits still and points to his arm. There’s a gnarly gash oozing blood. You wonder how he’s not feeling this and if he is, how he isn’t even fazed.  

  You gently pick up his arm and inspect it. He's thin but has clear definition in his arms. You haven’t seen him in so long that you are surprised by his growth. Hell, he’s taller now. Still short, but at least he grew.  

  In a jar, you take a premade petal. This is a way for you to save energy and reach people when you physically can’t tend to. Acting as a pill, you make sure that people can get infections out. For some reason, illnesses and infections are particularly tricky and tiring for you.  

  “Eat this, Feitan.” He frowns. “No.” You sigh. “It’s infected. You need to eat this so I can heal it right.” 

  “It’s not.”   

Rolling your eyes you bring his wound to his face. “This, this is infected. It's literally oozing pus.” How long did this go on? Was he really that hesitant to just come and see you?

  He growls and takes the delicate petal and places it in his mouth. “Stop pouting.”  

“Not pouting. It’s nasty.” He’s not wrong. It has a bitter taste and when chewed, a slimy texture. The color of the disintegrating petal leaves a stain in the mouth as well. If not for the benefits, no one would even bother. They'd be just as offended as Feitan.  

  The pus stops and clears up. “Alright, this’ll leave a scar.”  

You blow on your hand so that flowing blossoms surround him. Beautiful shades of pink and white go through his hair. With a gentle caress, you see the flurries touch his wound. It starts to encourage his own healing.  

  As much as you want to do the full thing, you’re tired. All day you’ve been working and collecting payments. Not to mention facing the disappointment of them being useless. You want to kick yourself for not getting paid first. But the sight of those grateful people and healed kids softens your heart.  

  Soon, it stops once the injury becomes manageable. You’re about to wrap it when a hand stops you. “What’s this?”  

  “Feitan, I'm tired. You caught me at a bad time.” You try to move your hand but he stops you. He's a lot stronger than you remember. “Heal.” 

His fluency isn’t the greatest still.  

“I’m tired! Just let it heal the rest of the way.” No matter how much you try to yank your hand away, his grip is too strong. “Please, Feitan...”  

  Surprisingly, he lets go and from what you can see, the subtle white glow appears and heals him the rest of the way, leaving small flames. “Feitan...what was that?” 

  He rolls his eyes and plops down on a chair. He says nothing and just relaxes, or at least that’s what he’s trying to make it seem like. It has been a while since you’ve seen him, but that doesn’t make you blind to his behaviors…sometimes. 

   “As a transmuter, I can heal a little by using enhancer,” He looks at you suspiciously. “You know nothing about nen?”

“Nen?” You put the gauze and other items in a black bag. It was found in the safe zone by the church. Apparently, it belonged to a doctor from the outside. The bag had all kinds of necessities. Gauze, medicine, some syringes, disinfectant, a thermometer, all kinds of stuff that you’ve had to use sparingly. What you save in the bag, you make up for with your ability. 

  He smacks his lips and calls you a ‘dumb brat’. “You use nen but don’t know it?”

Sighing, you ask, “What is nen, Feitan?” 

“What you do. Use your aura and stuff.” His arms are crossed, and he looks at you expectantly. You gather that he likes knowing things you don’t. It’s like a weak power trip. 

  But it is nice to finally have a name and explanation for it. And that’s what he did this time. Visiting you for a moment just to pick with you while teaching you something you should have known. 

“Wait, if you could do that, why’d you come here?” He just shrugs.

------

When you see him again, he brings his friends along. You immediately recognize some of them. Phinks, who ran with Feitan, the boy who always collected books, and Uvogin, the giant who was always claiming territory and beating people up. 

  Feitan should be twenty now. It’s hard to tell since he looks youthful. He points to his friend, the boy with the books, and orders, “Heal.”

“You can do it, Feitan, remember?” You were in the middle of cleaning when he and the rest of his posse pop up. They look flustered and a little worse for wear. 

  “Heal.” He always does crap like this. You roll your eyes at first. The body they carry tugs on your strings a bit. 

“Fine. Put him on the table.” Thankfully, it’s cleaned, and a new wrapping has been placed on it. Gently, the man is put on it. You spot the cross tattoo on his forehead. Ah, that’s where Feitan has been. Lately, there’s been whispers of the Phantom Troupe. Merciless killers and thieves from Meteor City that have been gaining respect over the years. Your opinion of them isn’t the greatest but it also isn’t the worst. You appreciate them for standing up for Meteor City, but their methods are questionable.

   You sigh and begin to undress the boy with the cross. “Is that necessary?” 

You continue to pull off his clothes, not bothering to answer the question the girl asked. If she can’t understand why you need to remove his clothes, then that’s on her. She scoffs after another female voice answers her question. 

  You finally see his wound. Feitan can heal himself to a degree, but you don’t think this guy can. The gash is deep and sewed with makeshift stitches. There’s no nen involved, surprisingly. Given that Feitan is an avid user, you thought his friends would be keen on it too. 

“He’s a specialist. Enhancer techniques are harder for him.” Phinks spoke. He must've understood your confusion. 

“And the stitches?” You gently investigate the area. It’s an angry red around it and, like you suspected, infected. It wasn’t properly taken care of. You begin to remove the stitches. You wonder what the thread is made of and how long this has been going on. 

“He,” Phinks points to Uvogin. “And him,” He then points to another large man with long ears. “Thought they could do it. Normally, Machi heals us but they were away from her. Her stitches would have helped him but not any infections.”

  “Ah, well this requires more than I thought.” You touch the ground and out comes a beautiful swirl of flowers. Underneath the moving petals is a blooming sunflower. It picks the guy up so he rests on it. The bed of the flower glows softly and becomes warm. His once wincing face is now peaceful. His injury is slowly closing and the red is beginning to turn pink. 

“The downside of this is that it takes a while. It’ll be all healed up in about an hour or so.”

“ An hour?” Uvogin, who has abandoned his afro and traded it for long standing hair. “Feitan, I thought you said she was good? We could’ve gone to that one guy and got it done right then and there.”

“She’s the best. Wait.” His hands are in his pockets and he moves. Feitan looks around and touches whatever he pleases. You try not to focus on his compliment. You wonder if the reason he moved from your line of sight is because he got embarrassed. If so, you won’t tease him. The Troupe are killers, afterall. 

   You start to feel the weight of your nen. This technique requires more effort than the others. Feitan explained it to you but you never did get the hang of it. You just know what to do instinctively. You were proud that you could do any of this without a teacher.

 What you’re sure of is that this man, whatever his name is, is giving you a crap ton of money after this or there’ll be hell to pay. 

   You feel something tickling the side of your face. The wrapper is red and unopened. You take the energy bard gratefully. “Thank you, Feitan.”

A couple of the Troupe members complain about the time. Machi or Mochi or whatever, the pink haired one, especially complains and criticizes for some reason. You have never seen this person before in your life yet here she is pouting. 

  “You okay?” You see the blond boy with big blue eyes study you closely. He moves closer to your face. A smile never leaves his face. Before you can answer, Feitan, who hasn’t left your side since you ate the bar, answers for you. 

“She’s fine. I’m watching her.”

You hear a couple of snickers. Feitan glares daggers at the offenders. You take a deep breath and ignore the friends who decided to crowd inside your hut. The boy with the forehead tattoo lies peacefully. Although you are running out of steam, his wound is healing nicely. One of the women, you believe it’s Pakunoda, comes to you and bends down. 

“Can I get you anything?” You discover that your throat is absolutely parched. “Some water, please.”

  If you remember correctly, the last you saw of her was when her head was shaved and some outsider kid did it. She had always kept it short. And now, it’s on her shoulders and very sleek. Over the years she’s drastically changed.

  You drink the water, which to your surprise, is clean. “Hey, how did this happen anyway?”

  “Don’t ask questions.” Feitan quickly shuts you down. Before you can ask anything more, you notice the entire group of friends are quiet. 

  “It’s nothing for you to worry about, okay?” You nod at the blonde boy with blue eyes and a permanent smile. Completing the hour, the tattoo guy is up. He’s immediately impressed. “My name’s Chrollo Lucilfer. Yours?” He puts out his hand for you to shake. 

  “Yeah, the book collector-theater nerd-kid, right? My name’s-” Before you can even answer, Feitan does it for you. 

  He gives your name and how your Nen works. He’s quick with it, too. You side eye Feitan for a second. “Thanks, Feitan. I, uh, really needed a spokesperson.”

“Ah, I guess it can’t be helped then, Feitan?” There’s tension in the air. It’s thick and heavy. By the looks of it, neither one is backing down. “Um, it’s not a big deal that he answered for me, you do know that, right?”

  Seconds pass through this. You look around for anyone to intervene with this. Whatever the hell is going on, it’s deep. “Since Fei explained it, why not have her join?”

“Positions are filled.” Chrollo still stares directly into Feitan’s eyes. Phinks nervously chuckles, once again trying to defuse the situation. “Fei, come on. No fighting. Right boss?”

  Suddenly, it’s lifted. Chrollo has what looks like a practiced smile on his face. “That’s true. That’s a rule.”

  Chrollo takes a glance at you. “She obviously means a lot to you. Clearly, she’s an asset, too.”

  “I’m right here, jackass.” Feitan smacks you on the head. “I’ll handle her.” 

  The others sigh in relief. Momentarily, you’re a little offended. “It was nice meeting you.”

They exit your hut right after, leaving Feitan behind. “So. those were your friends, huh?”

“Watch tongue.” You smack your lips and roll your eyes. There is blood on the floor and on the table. The furniture is in disarray due to all of his friends having no home training.  “I haven’t seen you in forever and this is how you greet me?”

 He frowns. “I say hello all the time.” You turn to him. “When? I didn’t see you.”

Feitan huffs and kicks the ground lightly. You get up to move the furniture back to place. Your movements are slow and everything seems so much heavier. Everything is swirling right before your eyes. Your head hurts and yet feels so light. Before you meet the ground, Feitan takes you to the couch and lays you down. 

  “I haven’t seen you in so long, little boy…” Those were the last words you say before you drift to sleep. 

Hours later, you wake up at the sound of birds. There is a beautiful blue blanket on you with golden yellow designs. It’s thick and so warm you could stay forever. You’ve never owned anything like this. 

  Slowly you get up and search for Feitan. He’s nowhere to be found much to your dismay. Last night’s conversation still stays with you. He insisted that he says hello all the time. That he sees you regularly, yet, you haven’t seen him at all. 

  The blanket, the wind chime, the medical supplies, the various decorations with stones, paint and if you weren’t smart, you’d say gold. Could Feitan have been the one to give you gifts? Silently watching over you and in his own way, saying hello? You have felt like you were being watched for years. 

____________

  “Do you understand why I didn’t welcome you?”

“No, and I never will. Now please, leave me alone.” You feel convicted by turning a man of God away, but can he truly be one when he left a child to suffer? You were in the cold, wind, and rain, alone in one of the worst parts of the city. All you had was Feitan, and he was there once in a blue moon. After the rejection from the church, you took it upon yourself to care for others as no one had ever cared for you. Although hurt and afraid, you chose not to spread that toxicity. You decided that no matter the size of change, it still works. 

 However, you will not fall prey to the same people. For instance, that girl you saved and this priest. How can he expect your services with no repentance or atonement? You forgive, but like hell will you forget. 

Damn…you were so sure you were over the pain of your past. That the change you made within yourself and how you treat people so no one else suffers like you, would stick. Alas, all it takes is one person to bring it down. You want to kick yourself because of the regression. Then again, the hostility isn’t your fault.

You walk into the hallway with small statues, stone walls, and large windows. The sun shines brightly through them, making the church seem prettier than it is.

“Please-”

“She said no.” Feitan stands with his hands in his pockets, the sun shining on his pale skin. It has been a few months since the incident with Chrollo. You haven’t seen any of them but have felt eyes on you, which you have deduced was Feitan. However, you learned the truth of the blanket. The name stitched on it belonged to an old clan, the Kurta, that was mutilated, tortured, and murdered by the Phantom Troupe. It disgusts you. The blanket is comfortable but still. 

Feitan, the boy who you taught to tie his shoes, gave you a trophy of his crime. You wanted to burn it, or bury it in the memory of the Kurta, yet you couldn’t. It’s a gift from the one consistent person in your life. Your protector and giver. So, you folded it and put it in a box. 

   Now, here he is like he’s done nothing wrong. Defending you and putting the man that’s been with the city for ages in his place. You’re shocked at his behavior. 

  “Feitan, surely you must understand!” 

“Shut up.” Father Rizole took a step back in surprise. Feitan was one of his regulars, if you remember correctly. This must be a surprise for the aging priest. 

You hum at the scene. Even though the rumors of what the Troupe has done bothers you, it doesn’t mean you aren’t opposed to the benefits. The priest backs up and sighs. 

“If you ever reconsider, please, let me know. We could use your help.”

“I could’ve used it too.” You end the conversation there and leave. Feitan soon follows you. He’s silent on his feet and very fast. Feitan was behind you but his quick feet caught up in less than a second. Now, he walks right at your side. 

“So, you just decide when you want to see me?” 

Feitan shrugs. “I don’t know.” 

Sighing, you turn to him and ask, “What do you need this time?” The lower half of his face is hiding under a plain cowl now. His eyes show all of the emotion needed. “I just hang out.”

  The sun is too hot for this nonsense. Sweat trickles down your face and back, becoming sticky. “So that’s why you’re here, right? I’m shocked.”

Before he can say your name, you continue. “Oh! And let's not forget the little massacre that took place, huh? Yeah, being used to heal your friend from that was really fun.”

“I didn’t.”

 You roll your eyes. “No, just that one guy. That’s who to you, again?”

“Boss.” You scoff at his short answer. Then, you think about the possibility. “Your boss? Then…doing that to the Kurta, wasn’t your idea, was it?”

“No, not mine.” His hands remain in his pockets. His hair blows in the wind slightly. You realize he hasn’t gotten a haircut in a while. 

“If you could, you know, go back in time…would you still do it?”

“Yes.” No hesitation, no thought put into the answer. Just a plain as day answer and a tone that leaves no room for an explanation. 

“So whatever he wants he just gets? As long as it aligns with your twisted mind, right?”

  His eyes grow darker. “I save you.”

You point to the church. “No, no you didn’t. That guy wasn’t going to do anything to me. I had it handled.”

Shaking your head, you go to leave until a hand wraps around your wrist. “Boss takes nen. I didn’t let him.”

  Was that what that was? That tension that day that was suffocating? Remembering that day, you start to form pieces. “Would he hurt you if you didn’t go along with his schemes?”

“No.” 

Well there goes that idea. “Nevermind.”

You try to yank your wrist from his grip, but it’s iron tight. “Let me go!”

“I protect you, always. Bad people here, everywhere. I get dirty for you.” His face is indifferent but his words give it away. The plea for you to understand and realize, dare you say, his devotion to his friends. Does this include you?

Is that what it is? What friendship, this connection is? You are aware of the deeds the Troupe do. You understand why they thought it would be a good idea (somewhat anyway). 

“Thank you, then.” He lets go of your wrist which was grabbed painfully tight. He trades that in for holding your hand instead. You are shocked at first, but if you make it a big deal, he’ll stop. You don’t want him to right now. 

  Not when you feel safe. You still want to kick yourself… and maybe throw in a punch.

_____

Apparently, the Troupe have gone their separate ways for now. They don’t cling onto each other for a long period of time after a job. It’s better that way since it has a lesser chance of them getting caught. They still hang out from time to time, though. 

For you, you managed to get out of Meteor City after the argument with the priest. Feitan had gone to do another heist with Phinks, if you remember right. You took that moment to skip town. You never wanted to stay in the trash, anyway. 

  And you were right to! Everything you thought of as a child about the world outside was true! Sure, people can be rude and things can be corrupt, but you’re fed and resting. There are bright lights and kind people. It can be clean and the soap smells so good. Just the other day you got to experience a nail salon. Rather than stealing from you, the lady next to you, Jade, talked about her family. Her daughter is Ruby and her wife is Scarlet. Jade and Scarlet want another child. You offered the name Emerald. 

  In Meteor City, you would’ve had to fight. Now, you are making friends and offering beautiful names. It’s a stark contrast that is fully welcomed. 

  The sun is bright and the moon is sometimes round. It doesn’t always attract evil and can sometimes sing such a beautiful melody. There are pearls and diamonds. There are seasonings that make the food taste unbelievably good. It’s all expensive, but infinitely better than Meteor. 

And Nen is a secret here. In the city, many knew about it and used it without discretion. Here it’s different. Like a secret identity for a hero. Your nen in particular isn’t used as much as it was before. Your ability was so tiring. Pretty and incredibly useful, but exhausting nonetheless. 

  It has been a few years since you saw him, but he’s seen you. He found you quickly, too. When you came home from your office job (which you are still ecstatic about, by the way) you noticed a new painting in your house. It was dull and in black and white. The painting is of a few plants that take the center stage. Actually, they’re your nen plants. In the background is what looks like your old city. Piles of rubbish and polluted air in black swirls. There are clouds above and a dark sun barely poking out. 

  It’s sad. Beautiful, but sad. You have wondered what he meant by it. You open the door to your apartment. It��s not much and one day you want to get a house. 

  The keys make a jingle when you set them on the countertop. The apartment is still dark, so you scramble to flip the switch. “Why you leave?”

You scream at the top of your lungs. Standing there nonchalantly is Feitan, who you haven’t had contact with in a hot minute. His hair is even longer than before. He wears a new cowl that has a skull on it over his face. His trench coat looks a little too big for him but he wears it well anyway. 

  “Uh, because I live here? What are you doing here?” You set your bag down and take off your short heels. Although he’s a murderer, you still feel safe with him. 

 He takes slow strides towards you. “ Why? I looked for you and you weren’t there.”

“You knew where I was. I got your presents,” You point to the painting. He hides his face a little in the fabric. “I like it by the way. Did you do it?”

“Shut up.” You sigh and walk into your kitchen. “I’ll make you something to eat.”

 You begin to wash the rice. Your eyes switch from looking down to taking obvious glances at him. Right about now, he should be in his mid twenties. It’s amazing how long you’ve known each other. You remember him as that kid who didn’t know how to tie his shoes and him teaching you about Nen. Time flies so fast when you least expect it. 

  You crack the eggs and whisk them. The sound of the utensil against the bowl and the sizzle of the tomatoes in the pan is all that is heard. Feitan doesn’t make one sound. He opts to stare at you working and even has a glint in his eye which you think could be satisfaction. 

  “Do you still like this, by the way? I remember you snatching it.” You try not to smile at the memory. 

 “I do.” He hovers in your kitchen, just waiting, watching you do all of the work. Stingy bastard. After adding the seasonings, you could have never gotten in Meteor City, you fix him a plate. He happily accepts it and sits down on the floor. 

“I have a tab-” Oh, the memory. Allowing yourself to smile, you sit with him and eat off of his plate. “We’re sharing. ”

 He gives a slight growl but doesn’t do anything. “So, what brings you by?”

“I say hello.” You hum with a mouth full of food. “Well, hello to you too, little boy.”

He gives you a light kick. The two of you finish the plate. Both full, you just lay back and talk. 

“How long are you staying?” 

“Not long.” You’ll miss him. “Running from the cops again?”

“Need to hide out for a bit.” You nod, accepting his answer and that your connection will probably always be sweet moments. “It’s nice to have you here, even only for a moment.”

  Feitan taps you again with his foot. “I’m always here. I say hello all the time.” You know and are fully aware of what he means. His odd little gifts decorate your house. To bones, to rugs, even a china set he stole. It’s routine for him to give you something, even when you don’t see him. 

“Even though you run.” He kicks you again. The more you watch him, the more your chest tightens. He’s the only consistent thing in your life. Everything is fleeting. Your job is new as well as your relationship with your coworkers. But there is a line with them. Feitan is different.

  “How long are we going to do this dance?”

“I don’t dance.” You roll your eyes and laugh. “I mean you coming by once in a blue moon.” 

  He shrugs. “I don’t know.” You nod. “Figures.”

He frowns. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, that this whole thing is tiring. You come and go like some kind of feral cat.”

  “So?”

You sputter, “ So I don’t appreciate it.” He takes off his long coat and reveals his chest, next goes his shoes. “I sleep here.”

“You can’t use me!” He gets up and goes in the direction of your room. “Feitan!” You pick up his clothes and set them aside. “Do you hear me? I wasn’t done talking!”

  On your bed is a sprawled out Feitan. He looks at you with squinted eyes. “Shut up, I’m trying to sleep.”

  Like always, he makes himself at home. You sigh, giving up on trying to talk to him. “Move over.” 

  He scoffs and reluctantly moves out of your way. You feel him tense up as you lay down. “This is my bed. I can sleep here.”

  You face each other as you lay down. Neither of you say anything about how close you are. This is probably the closest you’ve ever been since you helped him tie his shoes the second time. You feel his eyes on you, making you nervous. “Stop staring at me.”

  “Never sleep with someone in a while.” You know. The last time was with you, no doubt. At the time, you didn't think about it, if you remember correctly. It's hard to tell since it's been so long. 

“The couch is that way.” He smacks his lips. “No, you go.” You open your eyes. 

“Like I said, this is my bed.” Feitan doesn’t say anything about your ownership. Instead, he’s honest with you. “I’m tired.”

  Instantly, you start to feel a little bad. In the city, no child was ever able to fully sleep. It was too dangerous, especially in the more dangerous districts. Him being honest about his state, you take it as a step. 

  “If you want to, I’ll be on the lookout.” His hands are next to yours. You grab them, just like he did those few years ago. “You can sleep now, Feitan.” 

  You don’t know when, don’t know how either, but you two do end up sleeping. His eyes are closed and his breath even. Your eyes flutter open and see that he’s got slight dark under eyes and his mouth leaking drool. Feitan looks peaceful, sleepy, like he hasn’t done this in a while. 

  The next morning, he’s gone with no evidence he was even there.

_________________

  You watch on the tv screen above the bank about the attack on York New, a city not too far from you. The attack happened a few days ago but it’s still in the headlines. You don’t blame them, to be honest. It was an insane event that over two thousand people died! 

  You cling onto your boyfriend’s arm. He touches your hand reassuringly. His watch gleams in the moonlight and his suit is perfectly pressed. He's the entire package, he’s perfect. A good job, good manners, an honest man, and treats you well, too. He always holds the chair out for you and gets up when you leave the room. Just like a true gentleman. 

  When you first met, it was a classic coffee shop romance. Then it blossomed into a romantic and expensive dinner, the movies, a nighttime walk in the park, all of the classic dates. In every single one of them he was the perfect gentleman, the perfect man. You like him and how he treats you. How consistent he is. He's the type of man you can rely on. 

  Nevertheless, there is a bothersome voice in the back of your head that reminds you of someone he just isn’t. He’s not Feitan Portor. You don’t feel the contentment Feitan gives when the two of you sleep. You don’t study your boyfriend’s features like you did Feitan.

Dammit, why are you thinking of him? He’s not around and you haven’t seen him in what? Two or three years? So why think of him now. Plus, you haven’t received a gift or a ‘hello’ from him. For all you know, he could be dead.

  “Are you alright?” You wake from your thoughts and look at your boyfriend. His hair is dark, blending in with the night. Eyes kind and green, a Grecian nose, and average sized lips revealing a dazzling smile. Not only is the very essence of him suave, but his looks are also perfect. Tall and handsome, well dressed and a smooth voice. 

It's just that one five foot one pest that won’t get out of your head. 

  “Y-yeah just…it’s all so shocking. York New is literally over there.” You point past the river where more tall buildings reside in the distance.

“I know, I know.” He brings you in close to him. He places a kiss on your head. “Don’t worry, nothing will happen to you.” 

Suddenly, the newscaster stops mid sentence and gasps. Before you know it, the Phantom Troupe have been named the offenders that caused all of this. Two thousand people. Feitan, did you really kill that many people?

“I would like to go home. I don’t feel the greatest.” He rubs your arm, you still being tucked into his side. Your excuse was a lie to cover the gnawing feeling towards Feitan and his deeds. Although the Phantom Troupe’s original intentions were from a decent stand point, it seems they’ve lost their way. Feitan has lost his way. 

  The gifts have stopped coming, him no longer saying hello. After the last time, when you made him familiar food and sat in a comfortable silence, he disappeared. This time, there was something about it that hurt. Like he didn’t want to come around. He didn’t want to say hello anymore. Or perhaps, he died which if confirmed, you would ache beyond help. 

  “The Phantom Troupe is dead.” The newscaster said. The crowd gasped, shocked that the most feared criminals in the world are gone. Did you jinx it? Curse the little boy who needed you to tie his shoes. The boy who liked your cooking and made sure you rested. Had strong faith in you, never doubting. Protected you from the shadows and held your hand. 

  Is he really gone? 

You hide your face in your boyfriend’s jacket. Tears stream from your eyes at the thought of his grave. With the Troupe, his friends dead, you’d be the only one to truly mourn him. To remember his name beyond his violence. 

You clutch your chest. “Are you okay? Does your chest hurt?” He grabs you by your shoulders, making you face him. He’s such a kind, decent man. But he’s not Feitan Portor. 

  “I just need to rest. I’ll call you tomorrow.” You give him a chaste kiss goodbye. Once he leaves, your chest hurts even more. You slide down as you look around at all the menace’s little gifts. The painting, the skull, the windchimes, everything he’s given you. Why, oh why, couldn’t you stay here long enough for your gift, Feitan?

Wait, what could you have given him anyway? He’s a thief that takes what he pleases and has nothing to wish for. 

You lay on your couch and put your arm over your face. The tears refuse to stop for even just a second. You don’t know what you’re crying harder for. Feitan or the confusing feelings for him. Now that he’s gone, you can’t properly tell him. How can you explain it? 

  It’s heavy on your chest and tightens it. You want to feel his body heat no matter how hot the day is. There are no small flutters in your stomach at the thought of him. No, it's something in your heart. You want to stare at him, to memorize every feature he has. To hear his soft voice that is just a centimeter away from a whisper. Just melt in his touch, his presence. Wait, why is this happening? You barely knew him! Does that fact even matter though?

 You slip your hand in your underwear, still staring at the ceiling, sniffling at the news of his death. You imagine the future. Seeing him walk into your house and setting his belongings on the table. Wrapping his arms around you and kissing your back. No matter how long you’ve known him, his stature never fails to amuse you. He’d paw at your body, tearing off your clothes. Feitan wouldn’t hesitate to use his hands for your pleasure. 

  You trace your fingers in the direction you think he’d go. Curling your fingers inside, thrusting them in harshly, knowing that he can only be gentle in his own way. Your back arches from the couch. You swear you can smell him and the faint metallic scent that he holds. The feeling of his ragged breath on your cheek you could swear is real. 

  You moan as you take that jump you’ve searched for. Thinking of how good Feitan would make you feel. You're relentless on yourself, still going as strong as he’d be. Adding another finger, going faster and faster on your clit. Your moaning gets louder as the indiscernible amount of time goes on. 

‘ The Phantom Troupe is dead.’

You crash on the couch with one last gasp. The dream of the two of you ends in flames. The house, the passion, the years that go by in that home. Maybe even a child or two. Seeing him in the morning with a groggy voice is gone. Rubbing his eyes and saying he wants more eggs and tomatoes is no longer there.

  What would your gift be to Feitan? Memories? Sex? Food? Nothing fits. He can have those with anyone. 

  You slip yourself out from your underwear. It didn’t distract you. Perhaps if you thought of your boyfriend, it would have. But the feelings you have towards Feitan went beyond physical. What is this? What do you call this?

  Love? Time stops at the realization. It has to be that. That would have been your gift to him. Love. You cover your mouth as you admit it to yourself. 

'I love you Feitan Portor. I won’t forget you. I love your messed up hair and soft voice. For how you didn’t reject me when the world did. I will do the same for you. I’ll look past your torturous ways and miss you anyway. Maybe the world will curse you, but I’ll mourn you. Bury you so no one can spit on you anymore. I love you Feitan. 

   I’m in love with you Feitan Portor. This is my gift to you. For you to know that you will not be forgotten even though I never got to tell you, to thank you for everything. For leaving the baseball bat with me to protect myself. For painting that picture for me. All of the little gifts you thought I’d like, too. Thank you for protecting me from the priest and the wolves that hunted me every day when we were young.'

You stare at the ceiling till the earliest of mornings. It’s still dark, still heavy with the night sky. There’s some rumbling in the distance, a flash of light in the sky. You don’t bother to confirm anything. 

Just as you close your eyes, the window opens with a creak. You move your eyes to see the figure before you. The darkness covers it, only leaving the silhouette. “Why cry?”

You squint, trying to make out the features.  “Are you real?”

“Very.” It must be a lie. A cruel humor the world has. “Stop crying.” 

“I can’t. Not when you sound like him.” The figure cocks his head, that much you can see with the flash of lightning behind him. “Him?”

“Someone who can’t tie his shoes.” Your lip wobbles again. “I can tie them now.” The moon glows enough to show his face now as he steps up to you. Feitan’s delicate features peek out from his cowl. 

 You shake your head in denial. “It’s not real. It can’t be. You’re dead, Fei.” Your voice is hoarse from your sobs. 

  He looks shocked at your words. The man who looks like Feitan smacks your feet off the end of the couch so he can sit. 

“I’ll miss you Feitan Portor.” The longer you stare at the imaginary man, the more you hurt. “Well, stop.”

  He roughly wipes away the tears. “Ugly when you cry.” His face is close to yours. Since he’ll be gone by the time you come to your senses, you grab his face and kiss him. He sharply inhales, not expecting your sudden decision. 

  He growls against your lips, “Stupid brat.” 

  He feels real. He smells real, familiar too. You tell him such and with furrowed brows and a strong grip of his hand, he grabs your jaw and makes you look at him. “I’m real, you idiot.”

“They said you died…” You comb his hair through your fingers. It’s real, he's real . So, what’s going on? Before you can ask him, he cradles you. “Stop crying or I’ll go.”

  Your lips wobble at his threat. Rather than listening to it, you hug him. He nestles on top of you, hips placed between yours. He’s light, lighter than you thought so it isn’t a bother.

  “You’re so ugly when you cry. Don’t cry.” He holds you closer and kisses your head. Against your ear, you feel his lips move. You can’t tell what he’s mouthing. When the two of you comfortably slept those years ago, that was the closest you’ve been. Now, this beats that record. Face to face, body to body, and sharing breaths. 

  After a few moments of thunder and lightning, he kisses you gently. Not at all like the desperate one like before. Realistically, you know these feelings you have for him seem fake. You’ve only had a few moments with him. So, why are they so significant? Are they with him too? Is it possible that love can blossom quickly?

  Gentle kisses turn passionate, never wanting to separate. Little nibbles on the right places and sucks on all of the best ones. Clothes leave, not wanting to get between the two friends, those who dance around each other. For the first time, they meet. 

His hands reach your throat as he kisses you, making sure to give it a light squeeze. His weight is still on you, not hurting in the slightest. Feitan makes sure his hand reaches below and swirls his thumb on your bud. You gasp, surprised you were right about how he’d do it. Every ministration he does is exactly how it was pictured. Your hands don’t compare to it. Not by a long shot. 

  Despite his size, his hands are still bigger than yours. They reach deeper than you and are thicker too. In no time, you come, the bliss lasting a good minute before he sheathes himself inside. His thickness is more than you thought. It’s a bit of a stretch, but in a good way. 

  His gasps quicken with every thrust. You can tell that you're being loud, way louder than when you touched yourself. Feeling the rush and strength of his movements has you claw his back in ecstasy. He groans at the sensation. Finally, after this time of passion and intimacy, you both hold each other as you fall off of that cliff.

  Feitan looks into your eyes. With a softness that no one in the world could’ve predicted the torturer of the Phantom Troupe to have, kisses you. “Don’t cry anymore. Don’t cry.”

 “It’s hard not to when I know you’ll leave.” Silently, Feitan removes himself from inside you. It’s become routine, so you expect him to walk out. He lays back down, his head on your stomach. You run your fingers through his hair. He needs a haircut. 

--

 You wake up, not realizing that you went asleep in the first place. Before you can get up, you feel pressure on your stomach. Feitan rests on you still, eyes completely closed and his face peaceful. The two of you are naked and the only source of heat is each other. As much as you want to wrap your arms around him, you know he’ll react negatively or at least flinch. 

  Soon after, he stretches and rubs his face against your stomach. Like before, he drooled in his sleep. “Good morning.” 

He grunts in response and sits up on his heels. It takes him a moment to remember the night before. His eyes widen as he looks you up and down, making you highly aware of your current state. You cover yourself with a blanket draped over the couch. 

  “I have to go.” Ah, right. He’s a cat. 

He gets dressed. Once he has his boots on, you see him tie them the way you taught him. “Proud of you. You finally learned huh?”

 “Brat.” You laugh a little at him. Once he’s done you ask, “Will I ever see you again?"

He cradles your face. “I come back.” You nod, holding back tears. He studies your face and settles on your eyes. He must have realized that you were trying not to cry. His hands still remain on your face as he kisses you. He lingers there for a minute. A parting kiss, a meaningful one. 

  Something tells you that this feral cat isn’t going away anytime soon. That he’ll always be constant and you won’t be totally alone. A companion you won’t see everyday and only for a night. 

 This is the gift you’ll give him. You’ll be home for him. 

___________________

Months later, news about the Chimera Ants came out. You had already broken up with your boyfriend and heard he had left town to avoid them. Of course, you followed suit and got the hell out of there. 

  Without any plan, you moved back to Meteor City, where you thought that they wouldn’t be. Alas, that was stupid. You made a home base in the residential area. Not knowing that Meteor City was plagued by the wretched beasts. 

  By God’s grace, you managed to avoid them due to you being in the residential district. News that the Phantom Troupe were home to fight them ran rampant. The thought of Feitan made you nervous and you don’t know why. 

  Suddenly, right as you put away your dishes, the door opened. You grabbed a knife and faced the intruder. Standing there was the Phantom Troupe, who once again, barged into your home like they owned the place. 

  “What the hell?” You shout. The first one is Phinks with a wide smile. “There she is! Fei, I found her!”

  You put your hand on your hip. “Seriously, what are you doing her-you’re dragging in mud, take off your shoes!”

 “It’s only a little.” Phinks pouts. “I don’t care! You don’t live here.” 

Phinks and his friends grumble as they do as they’re told. The last one to enter the house is Feitan, who is notably holding his left arm. Without being told, he removes his shoes. 

  “Feitan…” He hasn’t faced you yet. “What happened to your arm?” 

“I’m injured too, (Y/n)!” The smiling boy with round eyes whines. You have no idea what his name is. Only that he and the rest are in Feitan’s gang. 

  “Alright, let me see.” He lays down on your clean table and says, “It’s all over. I need the full treatment!” 

  “Ugh, fine.” You grumble under your breath about the disrespect and your poor table. Finally, Feitan sits on one of the pushed aside chairs. He says, “I need it too.”

  “Big babies.” 

You heal the biggest cry baby completely. The blond, whose name you now know as Shalnark, stretches. “If it weren’t for you, I would’ve been hurting all day!”

  Rolling your eyes, you turn to Feitan who has been silent. He holds out his arm for you. You take the limb and inspect it. 

 “Completely shattered.” He grunts in agreement. He stares into your eyes and gives you a familiar slight smile. You notice that his friends are quiet, not a sound or word among them. 

“You guys alright?” You ask. The girl shakes her head yes and ‘whispers’ to the rest. “Should we leave them alone?”

  “Probably.” A mummy with boxing gloves answers. You’ve never seen him before in your life. 

“Uh, we’ll check the place out. Y’know, make sure it’s safe.” Shalnark shoos the little kid out and into a separate room, your bedroom. “We’ll clear this out in case you guys need it!”

  You huff and roll your eyes. Feitan’s cheeks are red and he’s glaring daggers at his friends. The girl goes outside with the remaining three to check the area. You and your feral cat are alone. 

“What are they checking for? I’m in a residential area.” 

“Ants.” 

  “They’re here? In the safe zone?” You begin to panic until he grabs your hand. “You’re safe now. They’re not in the city anymore.”

“Wha-how? What’s going on?”

  He pinches you lightly, encouraging you to heal his wounds. “Oh, right, right.” Flowers of all colors circle around. They begin to smooth over Feitan’s wounds. You take a second to wipe the blood off of his lip, letting there be some room for the petals to go. 

“How’s the other guy look?”

“She's toasted.” You smile. “Atta boy.”

  He’s healed, the petals and flowers disappear. You lick your lips at the sight of his bare chest. You didn’t notice before due to the audacity of these heathens barging in. 

  His heart rate quickens. “You leave again.”

You nod. “Yeah, yeah I did. I had to, Fei. the Chimera Ants invaded. I had to run.”

“With your boyfriend?”

You let out a small gasp. “ No. How do you know that?” He crosses his arms and leans back in the chair. “You lie.”

“I didn’t lie to you. I just never said anything.”

  “Words of a liar.” You scoff at him. “I did not lie to you. I lied to him. You don’t have any business with our relationship.”

At first, he was looking at his lap. Those grey eyes of his immediately found a new target to glare at. “You’re not with him anymore. ”

“No. Why does that matter?” He begins to tap his foot lightly. “Why did you break up?” 

  “You hungry?” You start to get up until you’re tugged down. “Why?”

When you don’t answer, he whispers in your ear. “Because I fucked you?” Your face is so warm. 

“If we run, we can still make it out.”

“Why are we running?” A small voice asks.

“Because I think they need the room.” 

“Will you two shut up?!” You are two seconds away from running out of your own damn house. You stand and his hands hold you by your hips. “Tell me why you leave him?”

  “Because of you.” It’s embarrassing to tell him your feelings. Hopefully, he can read your mind or something and shut up. He sighs and stands, walking over to you without a hitch. He kisses you. 

  “That’s what you get for lying.” He’s not remorseful or even boastful. Feitan takes your answer in stride. “No more leaving. Stay so I can find you.”

“You’ll always find me, remember?”

______________

Time after that, you were stuck in charge of Chrollo’s lover or something. She’s not too bad but clearly traumatized. Anytime you’d tell her to go with you, she’d look shocked. Like she was surprised she could leave. You were suspicious of her relationship with Chrollo. Something didn’t sit right with you whenever he or Feitan came up. She’d tense up. She never talked about it either. From what you understand with the little information you have, is that she was a former member that raised an orphan and that Chrollo loved her immensely. Perhaps too much.

  From what you know, there was a big showdown on the Dark Continent and the boat that was taking a voyage to the fake one. The Phantom Troupe were on that one at first, fighting Hisoka Marrow. He was a sore loser that got humbled and decided to attack again. 

  Amazingly, only a few died. You didn’t want to know the details or anything. You can’t go through that again. So, after that news, you and Chrollo’s lover parted ways. She went on to find a kid she raised. You, on the other hand, decided to settle out of Meteor City. This was almost a year ago.

  You have an apartment now in the town where you and your boyfriend lived, right next to York New. It’s basic, not fitting any aesthetic or anything. The good thing about it is that it’s bigger than your first one. It’s two bedroom and has a good price. 

   Feitan hasn’t reappeared. It tore you to shreds. You’ve managed to piece yourself together bit by bit, but you are a hollow version of yourself. Surviving and not enjoying the little things you used to. You even saw Jade, Scarlet, Ruby, and the new child, Emerald. Even that heartwarming moment didn’t fulfill you. However, it was the first time you smiled in a while. 

  You stir the food in the pot. Since it’s a little chilly, you made soup. You put the lid over the pot, letting it cook. There’s a knock on the door. You open it and see the man you’ve waited for. 

  Feitan is in dark clothing and has a large scar on his face. There’s no cowl over him, or a large trench coat. His hands are in his pockets, and he looks at you expectantly. You realize that you’ve just been standing there, you move to let him in. Once again, he makes himself at home. 

  “How’ve you been?” 

“You leave again.” He states bluntly. His eyebrows are furrowed and has a frown on his face. 

“Bold of you, very bold.” You move around him. “Why did you go?”

“Because I’d never stay in that city forever. The Ants were gone, the world settled. So why couldn’t I? That place is gross anyway.”

  He sits on the barstool and cracks his neck. You ask a question right after he sits. “How long you here for?”

You don’t know why you asked that. He’ll only be here for a moment. A while ago, you had made the decision to accept it as your gift to him. To love and mourn him when the world won’t. When news about the Phantom Troupe hit, you couldn’t bear to hear it. Their trip to the fake Dark Continent, then their corrected course to the right one, ended in a battle with them facing Hisoka and Illumi and everything else over there. 

  It was too hard for you to think about. That doesn’t mean you didn’t mourn and that you’ve snapped out of it.

   “For good.” 

You look up into his eyes. For the first time in a long time, he’s smiling with soft eyes. You see that he has a dimple on his left cheek. “W-what about-”

“Done for a while. Maybe forever. I know I’m staying.”

   “But your friends, where are they?” He shrugs even though you see the tension. “Separate. We split for a bit.” 

  He rubs his shoulders nervously. “Can I stay with you?” 

“Wow, you’re asking? Shocked.” You tap on the counter. The weight you’ve been carrying is lightened. “Feitan?”

“Yes?” He gets off of the stool and makes his way around the counter. “You know how you give me all those gifts?”

  He nods his head. “Well, this is my gift to you, Feitan Portor. You can stay as long as you like.” 

  He wraps his arms around you. He’s hugging you. This time, you aren’t afraid to hold him back and squeeze. Maybe, just maybe, this is what home is? 

  If the Phantom Troupe resurrects, at least you know he’ll always come home. That you two will be a constant force for each other. No matter if it does or doesn't, you two aren't dancing but admitting things you couldn't. This is home, a gift for each other.