#i feel like i’ve posted this one before but I did a quick search and it didn’t show up

[sandwhitches]

ೃ༄ 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐄? (𝐩𝐭. 𝐈𝐈)

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀: bokuto koutaro, akaashi keiji, iwaizumi hajime, oikawa tooru & sakusa kiyoomi

𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰: how they pop the question! (hcs + drabbles)

𝗰𝘄: implied fem. reader, mentions of marriage tehehe, mushy corny top romance

𝗮/𝗻: part two yayyyy!!! i wanted to post this earlier in the day but i unfortunately have to be a functioning member of society from time to time blegh. iwa's part is dedicated to my lovely moot @froyaoya who just gets it. sorry for any typos!!! also working on requests from the event still hehehe

(read part 1 here!!!)

𝐁𝐎𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎

» Look at this man, this beautiful blessing of a man, and tell me this is not about to be the showiest proposal ever

» He’s asking you to marry him and he wants EVERYONE to know (in the purest way possible)

» You knew what you were getting yourself into

» Is he nervous? No, maybe, he doesn’t want to think about it, OKAY?!

» Thinks the perfect time is asking you right after MSBY wins at finals, but one of his teammates (because he told them the plan…obviously) is like what are you going to do if we lose???? He almost dies on the spot because he totally forgot that was a possibility whoops

» There’s an easy way around that problem! Just win, duh!

Your heart feels as if it could just beat out of your chest with excitement as the last set ends, MSBY reigning victorious. Mind swimming with unadulterated pride, you’re already halfway down to the court once others begin to flood it, nothing you want more but the man who is currently wading through a crowd in search of you. 

For a brief moment, you pause at the sidelines, unable to find him, then remember Bokuto was probably in the midst of one of many interviews or something else much more important than a simple post-game congratulatory hug. Your conjecture is quickly smashed by the call of your name, paired with your boyfriend’s big, shiny beam of pure joy as he opens his arms for you. You let out a huff of laughter, then hurry over, practically launching yourself into his hold. 

Koutaro exclaims in delight, squeezing you close as he spins you around excitedly, “Did you see?!” You giggle, still holding onto his thick forearms as he places you down, “How could I not?” 

Bokuto’s chest puffs with pride before he bends over ever so slightly to give you a kiss that he’s been thinking about for the better half of the game. He dearly hopes that you didn’t see him dash off the court as soon as he was able to, making a quick job of fishing a ring box from his duffel bag on the sidelines as Atsumu cheered him on. Now, the box sits in the pocket of his uniform shorts, ready to be presented to you. 

“You did so good, Kou!” You add with an endearing smile, chest filling with warmth as his smile broadens upon hearing the praise, “Only because you were watching me.” Bokuto supplies in a chipper response, cheeks flushed. 

“I think you’re good, either way,” you chuckle fondly.

Koutaro clicks his tongue playfully, wagging his head back and forth in disagreement, “Nah, you’re the reason I’ve made it this far, after all.”

Though you beg to differ, it’s nice to hear it. You’re more than positive that Bokuto would have made it this far with or without you, still, you can’t help but count yourself lucky for being along for the ride.

What started as his hopeful attempts to impress you with showy spikes back in high school, what turned into a cramped downtown apartment, and what is now this moment that you share on the court. And while to you all of this seems so extraneous to his performance tonight, Bokuto can surely recognize where his motivation has been coming from, it’s only natural he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. 

“I want to be able to win every game in the future for you!” He declares, and it takes you a moment to register that he’s deadly serious, you’d nearly giggled in response, “I just want you to enjoy yourself, isn’t that what matters?” You speak up a bit over the crowd, head tilting. 

“Well, you’re right,” he shrugs, “But I also think you’re the biggest reason why I keep wanting to get better.” 

The sentiment makes a lump form in your throat, knowing that he doesn’t even mean to flatter you half of the time, he’s being entirely honest with you. That’s one thing you’ll never grow used to about Bokuto, how easily he can say something that knocks the breath out of you, and everything he tells you is undeniably true to what he believes. 

“So, that’s why I hope we can be together forever,” he adds with a simple nod, reaching into his pocket. You’re just about to agree, after all, he says such sappy things like this so often that it’s hard to tell when the words have more weight behind them. This time, you soon realize as he lowers himself to the ground, his words have the weight of the entire world. 

“I love you so much, you know? I’ll never stop, either,” Bokuto presents a ring box that looks absolutely tiny in his large hands, still, he’s ever so gentle in opening it to reveal a large diamond that glitters under the stadium lights. At this point, the people around you have paused their celebratory ministrations to watch, but none of that really matters to you and Bokuto. The most important thing in the world, you can’t ever deny, is the man staring up at you so lovingly. And coincidentally, you just happen to be the most important thing in the world to him, too. 

“I hope you’ll let me love you forever,” he speaks with sheer confidence and pride, as he does with everything else, “Can I marry you?”

𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈

» Something simple but intimate, that’s just his thing 

» Definitely a winter proposal, Akaashi thinks the snow is just so romantic

» Takes you down to a snowy park to go ice skating (despite contrary belief, you probably had to hold him up almost the entire time, this man doesn’t exactly have any natural grace when it comes to treading ice)

» Afterwards, it’s the standard snow day affair, you two build a snowman and give it a name inspired by one of your countless inside jokes, the both of you engage in snowball warfare, he buys you a cup of cocoa and sits on the bench with you (and yeah, he helps you blow on it, he’s just that perfect)

» What you DON'T know is that all day he’s been waiting for the right moment to reveal the little gift he’s been harboring for you in his back pocket

You can’t remember the last time you felt cold in the winter at all. When you think about it, the icy bite of frozen wind hasn’t nipped at your cheeks in years, perhaps having something to do with the eternal warmth the man beside you incited, the sort of toasty comfort that made your muscles loosen and eyelids go heavy. 

Akaashi’s breath comes out in short, puffy clouds, then rolls out into nothing in a matter of mere seconds. The crunching of snow beneath soles of winter boots fills the silence and makes your heart sing, oh, how you love this time of year. Beside you, however, Keiji is struggling to discern what his instincts are telling him to do. Two separate thoughts of just do it now and wait for another time have been pestering him all day to the point in which he can no longer hold a conversation without feeling a nervous ache in his chest. 

“Ah!” You exclaim with surprise, tilting your chin up ever so slightly towards the cloudy sky. Akaashi peers at you first, then up in the direction you face, realizing that tiny snowflakes are beginning to fall down to earth once more. The world is so quiet during the winter, he thinks, even with the mirth surrounding the two of you in the busy park, the snow will always serve to bolster the sound in its milky white embrace. 

He chuckles to himself as you stick out your tongue, darting it upwards to catch a snowflake, and the sight nearly makes him forget about what he came here to do. If there truly is a perfect time, Akaashi isn’t sure he’ll ever have the confidence to pin it, but right now, things feel okay, they feel right. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs in a whisper, catching your attention. Akaashi doesn’t miss the snowflake stuck to your eyelashes, nor the stray speckles of snow glittering in your hair like sugar. Your cheeks flush, leaving you to grin sweetly at him in gratitude while he brushes snowflakes from your hair, “You know what I just realized right now?”

You hum, blinking up at him curiously for an answer, eyes training on the subtle upturn of his lips, the crinkle of his reddened nose. 

“I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.” Your heart swells and a flustered, almost sheepish, giggle falls under your breath at the compliment. Akaashi can be so romantic, sometimes, and it leaves you wondering if he even knows what he’s doing to you…he has to, hasn’t he? Keiji clears his throat, “Actually, that’s what I wanted to ask you about today.”

Furrowing your brows in confusion, you tilt your head at him ever so slightly, “What do you mean?”

Now it’s Akaashi’s turn to let out a sheepish laugh, slipping a knit glove off of one of his hands and placing it into his coat pocket, much to your perplexity. “I wanted to ask if you’d let me have this forever. There’s nothing else I’d really want more than this.” Suddenly, everything clicks in your mind as he reaches into his back pocket and lowers to one knee, that softened grin of his cracking into a wide beam once tears flood into your eyes.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I want to marry you,” the ring he’s since taken from the box shines so brilliantly under snowy sunbeams, and you realize Akaashi was right about one thing, this is the happiest you think you’ve ever seen him. 

“Would you let me have that? Will you marry me?”

𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐄

» This is the world’s best boyfriend in case there was any confusion (which there shouldn’t be)

» Unfortunately this man wouldn’t know subtle if it slapped him in the face and stole his lunch money

» If you get your nails done, Iwa always pays for them, but he is oddly persistent about it the week leading up to when he plans to propose…which is kinda suspicious to you but you let it go

» He’s a big nature lover!!! He loves going on hikes with you (and doesn’t even mind in the slightest if he has to wait up for you, all he cares about is spending time together)

» Suggests the two of you go to your favorite trail and is absolutely relieved when you agree (Oikawa’s already headed over to hide in the bushes for three hours with a camera)

Wiping the sweat off your brow, you let release a drawn-out heavy breath of relief to have finally made it past the steep monster of a hill you and Iwaizumi had been dreading to trek. It’s worth it, though, it always is. The past few times that the two of you have gone down this trail, you’ve never lingered long enough to get the perfect view that you’re getting now, overlooking treetops gone vibrant green like everything else in springtime. 

“I thought you weren’t gonna make it for a second,” Hajime snickers, pulling at the collar of his shirt to cool himself down, and you can’t help but ponder why he seems so different today. For one, he’s taken every excuse to put his hands on you, holding your waist or lacing his fingers gently into your own with a periodic squeeze or two. Not to mention, he also can’t seem to be able to take his eyes off of you, which isn’t anything new in the slightest, save for a brand new depth to its usual shine that has puzzled you. 

“Are you kidding?” You scoff playfully, “I’m the one who almost had to drag you the rest of the way!” The two of you both know that is further from the truth than anything, but you still laugh, you always do. How can’t you feel such a dizzying high of joy when you’re together like this? Iwaizumi slips his backpack off his shoulder, presumably to grab a bottle of water, leaving you to admire the view once more. 

Today seems like it was made to be enjoyed, the trail isn’t as humid as it has been before, but it was just as lush, budding with the forest flora of early spring. Hajime noticed this too, in fact, not only is today perfect to enjoy, but he knows for certain it’s perfect for something else. And it’s now or never, he thinks, making sure your back is still turned as he grabs a navy velveted ring box from the front pocket. 

You glance back over your shoulder to make sure Hajime is sharing the view with you, that he too can see how terribly romantic everything can be when you care to notice it. He gulps, quickly tucking his hand behind his back as he comes up to place the other palm on your shoulder with a slight squeeze of affectionate warmth. “So pretty,” you note, knowing it goes without saying. 

Hajime nods, chewing on his lower lip in thought, until he’s unable to fight a shaky grin of excitement. You sigh contentedly, turning to face the sun again, relishing in the spoils of your hard work, and Hajime speaks up once more, “Today is perfect, isn’t it?”

You nod wordlessly, and he stares fondly as ever at the nape of your neck, knowing for certain that anything with you involved will always be perfect. That’s why he’s doing this, isn’t it?

“That’s why I thought today would be nice to ask you this.”

Your brows crease in confusion at the statement, prompting you to glance back over your shoulder again with a hushed hum, only to jump in surprise at the sight of him much lower to the ground than before. A hand flies to clasp at your mouth, Hajime gazes up at you from one knee like you hung the stars in the sky, and in fact, you might as well have. You’re the reason everything in his life is beautiful, why the thought of being without you is worse than death. 

“Don’t cry,” he chuckles adoringly at the sight of you falling apart, knowing it’s hypocritical of him to say with fat tears brimming in his own eyelids. Hajime carefully pops the ring box open, a quivering grin and creased brow are the only things standing between him and weeping.

“You know,” he starts, sniffling, “The only way I want to spend the rest of my life is with you, all I need to be happy is you.”

“Will you let me have the privilege of getting to marry you?”

𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐔

» Showpony (in the most loving way possible)

» He was going to have an airplane spell “Will You Marry Me?” in the sky before Iwa shut that down 

» Bottom line, he needs this to be as romantic as possible, it’s the most important night of your relationship by far, after all!

» New Years is right around the corner and what’s more romantic than celebrating another loop around the sun with fireworks?

» I’d imagine you two would be in Argentina so on New Years Eve he’ll suggest that you head down to the beach to watch fireworks pop over the city in the distance

» Much to your surprise, there’s already a picnic set up for the two of you upon arrival (this man is so extra. I cannot.)

Fireworks occupy the inky sky in the distance, brilliant, vivid speckles of light begin to dwindle as they fall to the earth. You’re entranced by the display, the dazzling red of another large firework bursts across the sky like stardust, glittering on its way down. And while the celebration is a sight to see, Oikawa couldn’t keep his eyes on it if he tried.

In his opinion, you were countless times more appealing to stare at, the way your eyes light up when another crackling display of gold goes off in the sky, how the flickering lights make the shadows on your face dance. This is something he could never get sick of, it seems. 

“You’re staring.” You mumble under your breath coyly, giving him a cursory once over, then looking back at the fireworks. Oikawa laughs under his breath, “How could I not? You’re stunning.” 

As he expected, you groan playfully, nudging him, “You are the corniest person I’ve ever met!” Tooru likes this bit, the one where he tells you something he wholeheartedly believes and you pretend you don’t hear the pure sincerity when he says it, “It’s true!” He scoffs in mock-offense, “You’re so gorgeous, am I allowed to say that?” Oikawa tilts his head back with a whine. 

You’re looking at him now, still sitting cross-legged on the beach towel; and Oikawa’s bubbly mood quickly goes flat with the realization that you’re not just beautiful, you’re captivating. He’s not sure what he’s done right in order to be sitting on this beach with you, eyes lingering on the way salty sea air blows gusts of wind past you softly, sending your hair to ripple like tendrils of smoke. 

Just in those few seconds, he knows that he can’t wait any longer to ask you to let him have this view for eternity, and he’s hungry to walk straight into the future knowing you won’t stray too far from him wherever the two of you may end up. Tooru sits up straighter, fixing his sweatshirt as he shifts to rest on his knees, raring to figure out how to begin to say what he wants to. 

You’ve since taken notice of his movement, smiling softly in confusion at him while he gives up on fighting the urge to stare at you, brown eyes glimmering with something warm each time another firework bursts in the sky. “Can I make a promise to you?” Oikawa whispers, head tilted. 

With perplexity, you shrug, then smile with a focused eye on his expression, “Sure.” He clutches your hand, “I promise that I will always be here for you, even if you don’t ask me to be there, I will always make sure you know how much I love you,” Oikawa’s voice goes low with uncharacteristic solemnity, and you’re on the verge of asking him what this is all about before he shifts to one knee, bringing a black ring box from behind him to light. 

You can’t help but gasp, sitting back on two knees, face now leveled with his. You can perfectly see his expression soften, melting into something entirely new. Oikawa knows he is falling in love with you all over again, he’s been the head over heels kind of smitten, but now? Now his love has grown to become a need to have you with him in order to continue on living.

“And I…” the box opens, a diamond reflecting the bright colors spilling across the sky enters your watery vision, “I want to be able to make these promises to you at the altar, and I want to spend my life living up to them.” 

“Will you let me keep my promise and marry you?”

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐈

» Wants something quiet, you know? When it’s just the two of you guys, it’s most romantic

» You come home after a tiring day of work and he’s doting on you more than usual (which is saying a lot considering you’re the apple of his eye as it is)

» What’s this? Your hunky boyfriend made you pasta dinner? Oh okay.

» GODDDD no matter how many times you two eat together he always pulls the chair out for you even if it’s just at home, he’s subtle in the loudest ways about how much he loves you 

» Actually pretty nervous because doing something like this is so vulnerable and I can see that as something that frightens him a bit

» But it’s you!!! If there’s anyone he’d ever feel comfortable being 100% vulnerable around, it will always have to be you!

“What’s the special occasion?” You had snickered upon entering your dimly-lit apartment, raising your shoulders to make it easier for Kiyoomi, who’d taken to helping you slip out of your coat as soon as he’d finished kissing you hello. Your boyfriend said something along the lines of, “Just wanted to,” with that airy tone of his, donning a grin much larger than usual. 

Sakusa has never, and never will, be able to get over how utterly beautiful you are. Everything you do makes his chest ache with longing, even after having dated for years, he just has accepted that being around you will always make him go weak with adoration. “This is amazing,” you muse, twirling your fork around on the plate for another bite, “I think you should just take over dinner all the time.” 

The two of you laugh amongst yourselves quietly, “I can see it now, I’d love to come home to you in a frilly apron after work,” you add teasingly, tapping his shin with your socked foot under the table.

Kiyoomi simply shakes his head with a humored scoff, “I’m sure you would,” he drawls, taking a thoughtful sip of wine. He still can’t get over it, even thinking about it right now, you are the most beautiful thing he has ever laid his eyes upon and it’s not fair how easily you can render him speechless. In the candlelight, you remind him of a painting, a set of perfectly carved out features, each one intentionally placed with the utmost amount of care. You’re perfect.

Tonight will be the night that he asks you to please let him devote his life to you, for the simple feeling of him to be able to bask in your radiance. And if that, in your own words, means cooking dinner in a frilly apron for you every night, Kiyoomi struggles to really find any grievances he has with that. 

“I’d gladly do that for you,” Sakusa finally returns, earning a playful quirk of your brows, “Oh?” 

“In fact, you know, I’d really like to do that for you,” Kiyoomi stands up, much to your confusion as he steps to your side of the table. You almost don’t process the way in which he bends over to kiss the crown of your head on his way down to one knee, a hopeful smile on his face. 

“If there’s anything I want you to know, it’s that I’ve wanted to spend the rest of my life with you for a long time, now,” Kiyoomi slips a velvet box from his pocket and your jaw goes slack in surprise, a hand traveling to grasp at the collar of your blouse. 

“You’re the only person I want to spend the rest of my life with because you’re my best friend,” he says, voice faltering with a sudden onslaught of emotions, “And I think…I know that I exist to love you.”

You’re unable to speak, breath caught in your throat and hot tears threatening to overflow onto your warm cheeks, his voice comes out solemn and intentional, “I want to be able to love you for all the time that I’m able to.”

Kiyoomi presents the ring to you, a question he’s been dying to ask you for years forming on his lips as they part to ask it, “Will you marry me?”

[ahhnini]

kaleidoscope - rafe cameron x reader

warnings - angst, angst, angst

synopsis - rafe and reader were inseparable. that is, until reader confessed her feelings. years pass, the two are no contact. but as it turns out, reader had been talking to him all this time, on a platform she never expected.

rafe cameron x tumblr!user reader

wc - 1.4k

a/n - i apologize if the formatting is a bit messy, i tried to have both of their perspectives.

your heart shattered as rafe ignored your words. you’d messed up everything. what you thought were signs of interest had just been signs of him being friendly to you. that’s all you were to rafe. a friend. so here you were, in the school hallway, sitting down on the floor, eating lunch all by yourself. you’d muffle your sniffles, trying to ignore the stares from everyone passing by, texting your mom to pick you up early from school. as soon as you’d gotten home, you immediately ran to your desktop, ranting about how “boys are stupid” and how you hate being melodramatic to your tumblr blog.

you scoff as you see rafe’s arm around sofia. it’s funny, knowing she’ll be dumped the next month. having just celebrated your sweet sixteenth, you were now old enough to have an island club membership of your own, and that’s where you’d been spending most of your time these days. you stretch your arms outwards, before opening your laptop, logging into the tumblr website. you had gained a pretty sufficient following, and you can’t help but smile at all the people interacting with your blog. huh, that’s weird. there’s someone new trying to message you. it was from one of your longtime followers. opening it, you smile at the kind message.

Hey, I’ve been following your blog since you started, and I’ve been here every step of the way. It’s been so nice seeing you grow.

little did you know that this message would create a long lasting friendship.

another night, another party at the cameron house. you weren’t invited, of course. rafe was throwing it. but to be honest, even if sarah was gonna host, you weren’t gonna show up either way. seeing the strobe lights dance around the estate, you close your curtains, making your way to your bed. you bring your laptop close to you, opening it up to your last tab open, tumblr.

going right to your direct messages, you click your most recent one, a friend you’ve made who liked to be called R. he still hasn’t replied to your message. sighing, you exit out of the chat and check on your page, making a quick new post. you browse the site for a couple more minutes, liking and reblogging, before opening up another tab for netflix, falling asleep to a random show.

the morning sun wakes you up. immediately searching for your phone, you check your notifications, smiling when you see R’s username pop up.

Hey, was busy last night, i’ll make it up to you :)

your smile widens, and you quickly reply,

dw about it!! <3

across the street, rafe’s phone lights up.

you’re awake, he’s hungover. he let out a soft groan, squinting his eyes.

you send another message,

gonna get ready for the day!! + one attachment

even though his head was pounding, he sat up, opening the selfie you sent him.

after that first message all those years back, you and R instantly clicked. even if it had been through the screen, the connection felt…magical. now that you were both nineteen, you’ve realized that you’d grown up with him.

putting your shades on, you lay on the couch of your yacht. all of your friends were busy; you didn’t have anything else better to do. you close your eyes, letting the warmth of the sun be your blanket.

you feel his arms wrap around you, you see his smile, bright and inviting. he kisses your lips, whispering your name. your eyebrows furrow, something was wrong. you push him away, suddenly becoming self aware. rafe didn’t love you, this was a dream. why were you dreaming about him?

you wake up, wiping a tear that fell down your eye. shaking your head, you go to the mini fridge, sipping on a cup of water. you hate to admit it, but you’d been thinking of rafe more often than you’d like. he probably hasn’t thought about you in years; probably forgetting that you existed.

after spending a couple more hours in the sun, you decided to go to the wreck for a quick snack. you ordered your favorite; a chicken sandwich with a chocolate milkshake. sitting down in one of the booths, you open your phone, seeing that R replied to you.

Beautiful, as always.

your cheeks grow slightly red at the compliment. he’d do this often, texting you compliments whenever you’d sent a photo of yourself. it started after you’d posted a rant to your dash about your low self esteem, R doing anything he could to bring your spirits up, even if it had been over the internet. then, when you self-reflected and started growing your confidence, you’d started sending pictures of yourself to him. he’d never send you anything back, though. which bummed you out at first, but you respected his decision.

you two had been planning to meet up for a while, but R was always dismissive with you when you’d ask. a part of you was terrified that you’d been talking to a creepy middle aged man all this time, but those thoughts dwindled away as you got to know each other more. sipping on your milkshake, you decide to follow your impulses, wanting to meet up with the mysterious R as soon as possible.

ik this is kind of random but when do u wanna meet up? we both live in nc so we could meet up in a city somewhere?

shit. rafe was not expecting that. his palms began to sweat, quick fingers moving across his phone screen.

It’s too soon, don’t you think?

no, not at all! we’ve been planning this for months now, all we need is a city and date.

rafe took a deep breath, feeling his headache get worse. deciding to bite the bullet, he replies,

Okay, what about saturday? We could meet up in Raleigh.

sounds good! what time?

Around 11:00 AM work for you?

perfect, so excited to see you, R! <3

fuck. shit. he stood up from the stool he’d been sitting on, running his hands along his head. his breathing quickened as he paced along the kitchen, wondering how he was supposed to face you again.

saturday rolls around quicker than you expected. you were on a ferry, headed to the mainland to meet R. you carried pepper spray just in case he did turn out to be a creepy middle aged man, can never be too safe.

he can see you, sitting down on one of the ferry benches, fidgeting on your phone. he felt like a creep, watching you. god, he wanted to jump into the ocean right now.

after confirming the plans, you both agreed to meet up in a popular restaurant in the middle of town. you’d gotten there a little early, reserving a table for the both of you. you tapped your foot anxiously, looking at all the decor. you were so nervous that you didn’t even realize you heard the chair across from you move, looking up when you heard a deep voice say, “hey, y/n.”

what the fuck.

“r-rafe?!” you whisper-shout, suddenly standing up from your chair. his eyes widen, everyone around the restaurant looking at you two. suddenly becoming embarrassed, you sink down into your seat, looking at your former friend, in shock. “you need to explain. now.” he nods, licking his lips before speaking, “it was stupid. after you confessed freshman year I’d been going through some shit with my dad and I couldn’t handle a relationship yet. so I ghosted you. and everyone else after that,” he scratched the back of his neck, “I should’ve told you right away. you were my best friend, y/n. after everything got sorted out I wanted to talk to you again, but it was too soon. I remembered you made me follow your tumblr account back in middle school, so I looked through your profile, and I felt so bad, knowing I hurt you. it haunted me for years,” he lets out a bitter chuckle, “it took balls for me to message you on there, I was so scared you were gonna find out and block me. but you didn’t. so I kept talking to you…and now we’re here.” he finishes his monologue, playing with the napkin on the table.

“rafe…I don’t know what to say…” you respond, throat becoming dry. he grabs your hands from across the table, gently squeezing them. “you don’t have to say anything. if you don’t wanna continue what we have, that’s fine. at least now you know the truth.”

“so, you were the one giving me those compliments?”

“of course.”

“and you weren’t bullshitting this whole time?”

“why would I? i’ve always found you stunning.”

your ears grow red, pulling your hands away from his.

“I…I need some time. this is all too much,” you stand up again, rushing out of the restaurant, rafe’s calls falling deaf to your ears.

thank you to my irl @vannbao for helping me with this (and feeding into my delusions)!!

taglist - @nemesyaaa @julie123456897 @mfdoomdickrider @grxnde-dwt @maybankslover @dreamygirli3

[ninii-winchester]

Chosen Affection

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader

Word Count : 3.3k

Warnings : slight angst, language, Lucifer being Lucifer, soft smut at the end (nothing explicit) MDNI. Unedited.

Part 2 to Deepest Desire

A/n : This is a Supernatural x Lucifer crossover fic. I’ve only ever watched a few episodes of Lucifer. This is a work of fiction, I don’t own Supernatural or Lucifer. They belong to CW and Netlfix respectively.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

After talking with Sam, Y/n went back inside the bar and Dean followed silently. Chloe could tell Y/n had been crying and the tension was obvious. Lucifer eyed the couple, clearly enjoying the drama, which he created in the first place. Not intentionally but he did.

"I think it's best we get to the Bunker and see what we can do from there." Y/n told the other three, Dean opened his mouth to argue but she cut him off. "Sam agrees."

"The Bunker?" Chloe asked confusion lacing her voice.

"It's our workplace. We live there too." Y/n replied, Dean's heart squeezed the she didn't call it home. He knew it was far from homey but that's the closest thing they've had to a place of their own.

"Sounds fun." Lucifer said standing up from his seat.

The quartet left the bar. Dean watched as Y/n slid into the back seat of the Impala, he sighed before he made his way to the driver's seat. Lucifer slid into the passenger's seat while Chloe joined Y/n in the back. He watched her from the rear view mirror hoping to catch her eye but she never looked his way.

The drive back was awkward and tense. Dean couldn't bear the uncomfortable silence so stepped on the gas, wanting to reach their destination as soon as possible. They soon arrived at the Bunker and Dean opened the huge door allowing them to enter. The quartet descended the stairs and Y/n spotted Sam sitting at one of the tables in the library, his laptop opened in front of him.

Sam noticed the presence of other people, and looked away from the screen. He looked at the man in black suit with weary eyes, not feeling completely at ease in his presence. Chloe noticed his timidness and introduced herself.

"I'm Detective Chloe Decker." She held her hand for Sam to shake. "This is..uh my partner, Lucifer."

"Sam Winchester." He shook her hand and nodded at Lucifer who stood there with his hands in his pant pockets. That was so awkward that even, ever the friendly, Sam had a hard time clearing the air.

"Alright." Y/n broke the silence before she went crazy with all the palpable tension around the room. "We need to send them back home as soon as possible. Sam have you got anything yet?" She questioned walking towards him as he sat back on his chair.

"So I've been searching the internet for a way to open a portal to another universe and so far I've got anything." He explained running a hand through his hair. "Although I've yet to search the the files in the library."

"Yeah the Men of Letters might have key laying around here." Y/n commented with a roll of her eyes.

Sam noticed the lack of participation from his brother, he didn't fail to notice the distance between Dean and Y/n, it seemed as she was avoiding him at all costs.

"Is there anyway we can help?" Chloe asked from where she stood.

"Don't you want to rest a bit? I'm sure you're tired after being thrown into another universe." Y/n said softly.

"I already feel like we're asking too much from you people." Chloe replied bashfully. "We can help."

"Its fine-"

"Why don't you say it out right that you don't trust us with your precious files filled with important information." Lucifer interrupted Y/n with a smirk on his face.

"You know what, yes. I don't trust you. At all! So you shut your trap before I throw you in the dungeon alright?" Y/n snapped, directing all of her pent up anger towards Lucifer.

"And just who do you think you're talking to?" The devil asked menacingly, walking towards her. Dean was quick with his feet stepping in front of her, his gun pointing towards Lucifer.

"Don't you dare." Dean threatened.

The man just laughed before speaking, "is this your way of sucking up to her? It's quite pathetic if you ask me."

Sam's brow raised in confusion at his words, before things could get worse Chloe jumped in, "Lucifer, back off. Dean please put the gun down." Dean glared at Lucifer still pointing his gun at him. At Chloe's intervention Lucifer stepped back, prompting Dean to lower his gun. "It's best if we rest." Chloe looked at Y/n and she nodded.

"Dean will show you where you'll stay." Sam spoke, Dean gave him a look that said i-will? and the younger brother shrugged. When the others left the library Sam turned to Y/n. "So are you gonna tell me or I'm gonna have to play twenty questions with you?" She sighed before filling him in.

"It hurts, Sam." She felt herself tear up. Sam immediately went to comfort her. She sobbed in his chest as he held her. "After everything we've been through and it still wasn't enough..."

"Hey don't say that. Maybe you should talk to him, hear what he has to say." Sam suggested. She knew she had to face him sooner or later. "It's late, how about you go and get some rest, you came back from a hunt, must be tired." She nodded her head before leaving his embrace.

She left the library, walking through the hallways she debated whether she should go to their shared bedroom or to the room she stayed in before she moved in his'. That room hasn't been used in a long time. Before she knew it she was standing in front of their shared bedroom, her feet unintentionally dragged her there. She sighed before entering the room. After taking a quick shower she settled into bed. As tired as she was, she couldn't get her brain to keep repeated those moments from the bar.

"Amara" Dean's voice kept repeating that name in her head.

The door to the room opened, Dean entered the room as quietly as possible, assuming she's asleep. He'd gone to library and offered Sam to help but his younger brother told him he needed to be elsewhere and refused his offer politely. Dean's eyes landed her figure on the bed, eyes widen open staring at ceiling.

"Y/n." Dean called out approaching the bed slowly.

"Not now, Dean." She replied, unblinking.

Dean nodded before changing into comfortable clothes and slipping into bed. He knew she wouldn't be in here if she wasn't comfortable sharing a bed with him, however he kept his distance incase she didn't want him touching her. He knows she's hurting, but her ignorance is killing him and the last thing he needs is her pushing him away.

"Did they settle in okay?" Y/n questioned after a minutes of silence.

"Yeah." Dean replied. "Lucifer is a dick though." He added with an eye roll.

"He's the devil, what do you expect."

Minutes passed and none of them spoke, Y/n couldn't fall asleep for the life of her, she kept tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable. She wanted to hold him, she wanted him to hold her. She was too hurt to make a move and her ego was too big to ask him.

Noticing her restless Dean couldn't help but blurt out, "Can I hold you?" Part of him wanted her to get comfortable and part of him wanted to hold her in his arms since he couldn't ever sleep peacefully without her. He didn't know if he asked it for her sake or his own.

She scolded herself for being so eager to be in his arms but she couldn't help but nod her head. He didn't waste a second wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer to his chest, so her back rested against it. He snuggled his face in the crook of her neck.

"I love you, sweetheart." He whispered in her ear, placing a soft kiss on her neck. She shuddered at his action and that was the first time in forever she didn't say it back.

Dean woke up to an empty bed. The clock read 2:27 and he shoved the covers off of him haphazardly and bolted out of the room. First thing that came to his mind that she left him. With hurried footsteps he reached the library, his eyes fell on Sam who was surrounded by files, books and empty beer bottles. His breathing picked up, Sam opened his mouth to question his brother but Y/n's voice interrupted him.

"Dean?" She called out his name, noticing his disheveled state. He turned around to see her standing at the entrance of the war room with two mugs of coffee in her hands. He didn't answer her, instead he took large steps towards her and hugged her tightly. Her arms were angled awkwardly and she somehow managed not to spill the scalding hot coffee over themselves. She sent Sam a confused look over Dean's shoulder and he shrugged, not knowing either.

"I thought you left." Dean mumbled in her shoulder.

"I couldn't sleep so I thought I'd help Sam." Dean nodded before pulling away. An awkward silence followed after. She walked over to Sam putting a mug in front of him.

"Did you guys find something?" Dean asked following behind and her taking a seat.

"Actually we did. There's a few ways to open a portal. There's energy manipulation, magic ritual, or using an ancient artefact or finding a weak spot." Sam explained taking a sip of his coffee.

"But we don't have ingredients for a magic ritual and we certainly do not have the specific artefact." Y/n commented.

"So either energy manipulation or finding a weak spot?" Dean questioned looking at her.

"Maybe but considering Lucifer has to absorb energy from a volcano or a thunderstorm, I don't think it's safe to let him juice up." She replied with a concerned voice.

"Agreed." Sam said rubbing his eyes. "Our best bet is finding a weak spot. From there he can open a portal by using his own powers saying this incantation." Sam turned his screen towards his brother.

"So were do find this 'weak spot'?" The older Winchester wondered out loud.

"It's usually around places like deep woods, ruins or caves. Lucifer can sense it since he has powers." Y/n answered.

"So let's do it." Dean said getting up.

"Wait, now?" Y/n exclaimed.

"Yeah now." Sam agreed with Dean. "The sooner he goes back, the better."

Y/n nodded in understanding, she told them she'd go and get Lucifer and Chloe while the Winchester brothers geared up. Y/n quickly changed and met up with the others. They'd decided to go to the forest. It took them three hours to reach their destination. They got out of the Impala and ventured into the woods.

"Thank you for helping us Y/n." Chloe said as they continued to trek through the dark forest.

"That’s what we do but you’re welcome." She smiled at the blonde. The three men walked ahead of them Sam and Dean constantly asking Lucifer if he felt anything. And the devil kept giving them snippy replies.

"You know.." Chloe started gaining Y/n's attention. "I may not know you all for long but I'm observant. You're good people. I can see Dean truly loves you, whatever he said back there it hurt him too." She said looking at Y/n. It sure felt like the detective knew what she was talking about. "You should give him a chance to explain." Y/n mumbled a quiet 'yeah' with nod.

"This is it." Lucifer said loudly. "I can feel it." He held his arm up feeling up an open space.

"Alright, now channel your powers and focus on the spot. Think of the place you want to go. Your world." Lucifer did as Sam told him to.  Sam handed Lucifer a piece of paper. "Now say this." They could see a split forming above them and bright light emerging from it.

"Ad universum alterum patefacio, vires

invoco. Portalem aperire, vires occultas evocare. Tempus et spatium frangere, iter transire concedere." Lucifer read out loud and the five of them watched in awe as a portal finally opened.

A strong wind roared through the landscape, its force palpable and relentless. Trees bent and swayed, their leaves and branches rustling loudly as they were whipped around. The air was filled with the sound of howling gusts, the sheer strength of the wind created an atmosphere of raw, untamed energy.

"Holy fucking-" Y/n exclaimed, Dean instinctively moving in front of her.

Lucifer breathed heavily, panting as he stood back.   

"Alright. You ready to go back?" Lucifer asked Chloe and she nodded. She quickly hugged Y/n and thanked Sam and Dean.

"I have to say, you three really are something." Lucifer said with a smirk. "And I thank you for your help." He added. The three of them nodded.

They watched as Lucifer and Chloe jumped into the portal and it closed as soon as they fell through. The wind stopped and the light was gone. Sighs of relief were heard in the complete silence of the forest.

"Felt weird being thanked by the devil." Y/n chuckled as they walked back to the car.

"You're telling me." Sam added.

Dean was silent the whole ride back to the Bunker. The sun has already risen, the world felt calm and serene, filled with a promise of a new day. Y/n hoped this new day brings her some peace. When they reached to the Bunker Dean left the car without saying a word.

“You’re gonna talk to him?” Sam asked looking worried. He knew now that Dean didn’t have something to focus on, his mind would be all over the place.

“Yeah.” She replied walking inside. When she opened the door to their shared bedroom she saw Dean sitting on the edge of the bed. He had something is his hands but quickly hid it when he noticed her, though he fiddling with a set of keys in his hands. She took smalls steps and sat beside him. A few seconds passed in silence when Dean chuckled humourlessly,

“You know,” he started, “I was waiting for so long, I didn’t want it to go this way.” She looked at him, confusion written all over her face. “I thought I’d do it when you’d come back from that hunt, take you out somewhere fancy, dinner and all.”

“Dean-”

“I bought us a house.” He interrupted her. He showed the keys that were in his hands. “I thought I’d tell you after I’d ask you, and you’d hopefully say yes, we’ll start a new life. You, me our kids. Together. No more monsters, no more hunting.” Her heart rate picked up, “I should’ve known better though, when has anything gone the way we’ve wanted it.” He moved to kneel in front of her holding her hands in his.

“She,” Dean grimaced, “her and I were bound because of the mark, the mark may have gone from my arm but it’s has left something behind, it’s an urge. I don’t desire her at all, not her physical self anyway. It’s something I don’t like admitting out loud but there’s something in me that’s dark and sometimes it makes me want to do things that I did when I had that mark.” She let out a gasp at his confession.

“Dean I had no idea.” A few tears escaped her eyes.

“But you know what keeps me sane? You.” He cupped her cheek in his hand wiping away her tears. “You’re my light, you vanish all the darkness inside of me. You’re the one I want, you’re the one I crave. You’re the one that makes me want to be better. I’m not bound to you, you’re a conscious choice sweetheart. Everyday, every second you’re the one I want.” He grabbed something from beside her, she hadn’t even notice it was there all the time. She gasped again when she saw what it was, a small velvet box.

“Y/n, sweetheart, I love you, I always have and I always will. I know I’ve hurt you baby, but if you give me this one chance, I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you how much I desire you. Will you marry me?”

She couldn’t believe what she heard, did he just say he’s giving up hunting? Getting a house? Getting married? Kids?

“You, Dean Winchester, has decided to quit hunting?” She questioned, thinking somehow she’s didn’t hear him right.

“Yeah,” he chuckled through tears. “And hopefully spend the rest of my life with you, Mrs. Winchester, if you would.” He gestured to the ring in his hand.

“I like the sound of that.” She teased with a smile on her face.

“So will you?” He asked again, not believing her until she says it out loud.

“Yes Dean, I’ll marry you.” He didn’t waste a second slipping the ring on her finger.

“I love you so much.” He pressed his lips to her, kissing ber softly, pouring all of his love into it. Their lips moved in perfect sync, a soft brush sent shivers down their spines. Time seemed to slow, and the world around them faded into a blur. The warmth of their breath mingled, and the closeness created a cocoon of shared emotion. The gentle pressure and the delicate movement of their lips, created a bond that felt both timeless and immediate.

“I love you too, Dean.” She panted as they pulled apart. “I won’t lie, I was hurt pretty badly when you said that. But I had no idea where it came from and it made me insecure. I thought you wanted her.” She spoke lowly as if sharing a secret.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I shouldn’t have kept it from you, but after everything, I didn’t want you to worry. You’d finally had some peace.”

“I understand but from now on, no more secrets okay? I want you to be open with me, yeah?”

“I promise.” He kissed her again, laying her back on the bed. He hovered above her, his hands placed on either side of her head. She let out a soft moan as he kissed her neck and moved to her collarbone. “Let me make love to you, baby.”

She nodded, pulling him back up, kissing him passionately. “Show me how much you love me.” He gently pulled her shirt over her head, and she gripped at his’, indicating she wanted it off and he quickly removes it. It didn’t take long for them to get rid of all their clothing, leaving them completely naked.

He dragged his fingers delicately over her cheek, down her neck and chest. She flipped them over making him lay on his back. She bit his neck, nibbling and leaving dark purple hickeys. She moved to his chest, kissing her way down to his stomach before she could go any further he stopped her.

“Later, baby. I need to feel you.” Dean flipped them over again. He watched her flushed face, leaning on his one arm, he reached a hand between their bodies and gripped himself, leading himself to her. They moaned in unison as he penetrated her. “Fuck baby.” He groaned in her neck.

Moans and groans filled the room as they continue to loose themselves into heated passion. Wrapped up in each others embrace, bare skin pressed together, their hearts beating in unison. Coming undone together basking in the aftershocks of their passionate love making they laid entwined in the soft sheets, their breaths slowly synchronized, a comfortable silence enveloped them. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a sound that had become her lullaby.

Tags:

@fullbelieverheart @spnfamily-j2 @n-o-p-e-never @montyrokz @deangirl96

[anxiousotters]

Last Line Challenge

Rules: In a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as you feel like).

Thank you so, so much to @cookiemonsterv3 for the tag!! I’ve always wanted to do one of these <3

I can’t spoil this one too much, but I will say it’s a codywanweek fic for the Day 4: Soulmate AU prompt (that I am desperately trying to finish even as it gets longer and longer, oops)

Fox raises an eyebrow at him. “Did you seriously stop wearing your kama because Obi-Wan said you have nice legs?” Cody’s ears burn. “That’s not—” “No, wait,” Fox interrupts, searching Cody’s face for something. He seems to find whatever it is he’s looking for, because his eyes light up with unrestrained manic glee. “It’s worse than that, isn’t it?” Cody prays for a quick death. Fox’s smile widens into something positively feral. “You want less layers between your legs and his when he pins you in a spar. Cody, you dog.” Scratch that. Cody will not beg for death. Not before he kills his ori’tat.

No pressure tags: @thenookspace, @vytels, @biscuityskies, @goddammitjim, @ferretrade, & @foreverchangingfandomsao3

[ilys00ga]

𝐒𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐞.

➞ pair: yoongi x female reader.

➞ word count: 4k

➞ synopsis: buying a pretty vase from an antiques shop can't be that bad of an idea, can it?

➞ genre: fantasy, some angst, bitter sweetness is good for our hearts, fluff, hurt/comfort, cursed ghost!yoongi...

➞ A/N: So, this isn't the fic I talked about before, but I still wanted to post something while I take my time to figure out what the hell I wanted the other fic to be. this is purely inspired by a random prompt I found on a random website, and I wanted to give it a try. I hope u like it <3

ps. PLEASEEEE !!!!!!! do not hesitate to send me ur feedback (comments, asks, reblogs... whatever u want) !!!!!! just give me ur opinions. I'd love to hear it all :,)

★ MASTERLIST.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

The tips of my fingers meticulously traced the lines and patterns that coated the vase between my hands. A gorgeous ceramic vase that came with an even more gorgeous lid I had come upon at the small antiques store a few hours earlier, which—in my honest, humble opinion—was poorly and deficiently frequented given the amount of goodness it vends.

It was one that I’ve passed by many times on my way to work before, located in an old street busy with other art stores. Each time I’d stopped at it, fascinated by the items I could see through colorless glass, I’d get that strange desire to enter and discover what it had to offer me, but it wasn’t strong enough to pull me inside.

Broken or not, there’s magic hidden in those old items. Stories and emotions traveling from the past all the way to my heart.

Until one day, I decided to surrender to those powerful items and made my way through the front door. It was indeed a dusty magic shop.

I put the vase on the table with extra care and opened the lid, my dog running around somewhere in the other room. A quick look inside the vase, however, had my brows rising.

"Is this.. powder?" I asked myself.

Back in the shop, nothing hinted that the vase contained anything, nor did the owner utter a single word about it. She, in fact, didn't even seem to be that interested in her very few customers, if I were to be honest. The newspaper she was reading throughout all that short period of time I was in there had her eyes fixed on it, for the most part.

I swallowed hard, feeling like my heart had been ripped off my chest and drowned in icy cold water with the thought of getting unknowingly tangled in some illegal activities.

Loud barks, then the crashing of something cut my new overwhelming awareness short, and I sprinted in search of my hyper dog.

"What did you break this time, Holly?" I made quick work of cleaning the mess Holly had made, giving him some treats because he looked so cute nonetheless then returned to what I had decided to call a cursed beauty later on.

Upon entering the room, the sight of a man looking through my limited collection of vinyls with his back facing me made my legs freeze in their place, and my heart almost slipped out of my mouth in another alert panic.

"What the hell?!" my lips shouted before I could even think of finding something to defend myself in the face of that stranger.

The man dropped the disk in his hands and faced me with wide eyes. His startled expression quickly snapped into a kind smile, and he spoke, "Hey, are you the one who opened the urn?"

"Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?!!" my heart was pounding in my ears. I quickly went through the details from the moment I walked into the apartment to that of when I came back to the room, checking if I missed any hints of somebody breaking in or not.

The stranger started walking towards me with an arm stretched out, and I quickly backed away, looking around before grabbing the first hard object I could find within my sight line, "Stay away from me!"

"Relax, I'm not here to hurt you." He stopped in his tracks and raised his hands in the air, "I'm Yoongi, Min Yoongi, and you just set me free from that damn urn. Thank you, by the way."

The more he talked, the colder my blood was running in my veins and the slippier the object was becoming as I gripped it with sweating hands for dear life. Nothing he said made any sense. All I could do was shout in frustration, "What the hell are you talking about?!"

The patter of paws slapped across the corridor floor, and Holly came running into the living room. The dog started barking when he saw the stranger, but the latter didn’t even flinch. Instead, he sighed, breathing heavily through his nose, and then looked back up at me. But before he could say anything more, I huffed.

"Are you a serial killer?" I wanted to cry. Actually, he looked too pretty to be that coldhearted. I figured that maybe if I cried, he'd feel bad and leave me alone. Or maybe, if I took the chance to launch at him first, right then and there, that'd do something.

I could either die an honorable death, attempting to fighting back, or lay myself bare skinned for my predator, and no one would be a witness outside of the walls of the room that were only getting colder and colder by the ticking seconds.

Well, maybe Holly would, but he’s busy barking, not moving from his place at all.

"Look, I really don't know how you ended up here. I-I don't want to know, yeah? I will even let you go and not speak a single word about this. Just please don't kill me. Yeah? I'd do anything you want, just- please?" I began to plead, sweating like crazy even though the room around felt too icy.

The man didn’t reply, crouching down to lure my dog over. Holly’s small head cocked to the side before slowly moving closer to him. If I weren't busy trying to steady my breathing while simultaneously making sense of whatever was going on in the middle of my living room, I would’ve palmed my face.

"I told you, I'm Yoongi and I'm not a serial killer. This thing you have here, the one you just opened," he explained, nodding towards the open ceramic vase on the table, "I, my soul was trapped in there."

I blinked, a beat or two slipped through my lips, then muttered, “You’re being serious?”

“Why would I lie about something like this?” he retorted, hands petting the pet on his lap, and added in a softer voice, “I understand how crazy this sounds, but in simpler words, I was trapped inside and once the lid was lifted, which is what you have done, I was able to get out.”

“Oh, so you say once the vase is shut again you’ll go back there, is that it?” I breathed out, picking my words cautiously.

He hummed and nodded, still focused on the dog he was playing with. Taking my chance, I rushed towards the table. With trembling hands, I grabbed the lid and screwed the vase shut.

"No, wait! Don't clo-"

Silence…

The familiar sound of multiple clocks ticking together, hand in hand and almost perfectly at the same time, welcomed me into the antiques shop.

The shop was practically empty. No customers were in sight. My only audience was the oil paintings hanging on the walls, the lamps and the crystal chandeliers dangling from the ceiling, the tables and the surfaces that displayed everything: from old jewelry to dolls and collectible plates and cups, the sculptures in different shapes and sizes scattered everywhere, the old books, cameras, vases and musical instruments…

They all stared at me and the vase I was holding tightly to my chest.

Walking ahead, I reached the front counter where the same old woman stood reading some newspaper. Despite the clearly audible bell that rang every time the door was swung open, she didn't seem to be recognizing my entrance. I cleared my throat in an attempt to grab her attention, but it fell on blinded ears.

Sighing, I put the vase on the counter with a thud and declared my aimed objective, "I'm here to return this."

"No exchange, no refund." The woman finally, but dryly, replied.

"You have to understand, I can't keep this anymore." I insisted.

"No exchange, no refund!" She repeated in a stern tone, looking up and meeting my eyes.

"Fine," I took a deep, long breath in, "you're the owner, tell me what do I do with it then."

"Its colors go very well with any kind of furniture, but I'd say keep it on a shelf amidst other decorations." The contrast between the way she spoke so friendly and the tight smile she had on her lips poked at my nerves.

"Are you kidding me? I just said I don't want this cursed thing anywhere near me! It has a weird powder in it! and-" I paused, lowering my voice despite the fact that the shop was empty—minus me, its owner and its goods, "some weird ghost appeared out of it!"

The antiquarian silently folded her newspaper, put it on the counter in front of her, and stayed silent for a while, staring deeply into my eyes.

"Use the ashes and break the curse." She mumbled.

"Ashes…? What?"

"You heard me. Break the curse and save the dead." She didn't say anything further, busying herself with the newspaper again, and that was my key to leave.

"Next time, don't sell cursed stuff to innocent people who don't have enough time on their hands." I turned on my heels and stomped out of the shop with the vase between my hands.

Three days later:

“Alright, talk to you later.”

Stepping into the apartment, I hung up the phone and put it on the small coffee table. Holly was curled up on the sofa with his nose tucked under his tail. My body naturally bent down, and I pecked the pup’s head affectionately.

It had been exactly three days since I came back from the small antiques shop, put the vase on the shelf, and never dared to touch it again. Every morning and every night, I’d stared at it and contemplated whether I ought to open it and investigate what the hell was going on or not. The shop owner’s words never left my ears, ‘break the curse and save the soul.’

Three days had passed, and I still hadn’t made my mind up or got to any simple conclusion whatsoever. The thought of having somebody else’s ashes in my house made my stomach twist in ways, yet somehow I couldn't find the courage to empty the urn.

Well, at least it wasn't coke or something of the kind. That thought floated in my head as I lay on my bed the same night I’d come back from the shop.

Stuck in a quandary between the fear of what could be awaiting me and the burden that was unceasingly weighing both my heart and mind, I knew that having a staring contest with that damn container day and night wasn’t going to do me any good.

After yet another fruitless debate between me and my conscious mind, I slowly walked towards the shelf, carefully put my hand over the lid, lifted it up and stared at the powder—the ashes inside.

I waited, nothing happened. Looked around the room, nothing happened.

For a moment, I could feel a scoff bubbling its way up my throat. It was ridiculous, I felt ridiculous for expecting something, for believing that something would happen and that all of that madness was real.

How could a tale about the soul of a cursed, handsome man popping out of an ancient vase be real?

But then again, I recalled the thing the old woman had said to me, as well as that encounter I had with the strange man. Very vividly clear. I remembered it, it happened, it was real.

"You didn't throw it away." A low voice came from behind and made me jolt in surprise.

There he was, the strange man—Yoongi leaning on the doorframe with both of his hands tucked in his pockets.

Part of me was grateful he was there because I didn't have to worry about my mental well-being deteriorating. But the other one shivered, creeped out by his presence, by the whole situation.

"Thank you." Why is he so polite? "I was scared you too would throw me away." Oh?

I lightly shook my head, trying to find the proper words to express myself, and I said, "Listen, I need answers."

“I figured. What is it that you want to know?”

"I-I talked to the person that sold this thing to me, and she said that I need to use these… ashes to break a curse.” Somehow, my brain was more than aware of the fact that the man standing a few steps away from me was most probably not human.

“yeah…?” He mumbled back, “didn’t she say how to do that?”

I shook my head ‘no’, and if his disappointed, broken look surprised me, I tried my best not to make it visibly noticeable.

“What the hell are you exactly?” I asked. I wasn't sure what emotion(s) I was feeling at that very moment exactly. I couldn’t put a name to it to save my life. But I surely didn’t mean to sound as exasperated as my voice made me out to be. I could see his throat work as he gulped, eyes averting from mine to look down at the floor for a moment before looking up again.

"I died a hundred years ago. A witch attempted to kill me, and she did, before casting a curse and trapping me inside that thing over there." he pointed towards the antique vase behind me, then added, "in my ashes. I've been trapped there for years. Some people did stumble upon me when they opened it over the years. Just like you did. But they never gave me one chance to even speak, and they threw it out immediately."

“But why? What did you do to deserve all of this?”

A gloom overcame his eyes, yet his voice was steady and deep as his lips stretched into a smile that only the word ‘sour’ could do its description justice.

"That's what happens when one falls in love with a witch.” He replied, “anyways, that’s all I know. I've been trying to figure out how to break the curse, but being stuck in a jar serves for nothing.”

Neither of us spoke for a while, him standing amidst the echoes of his past and my voice trying to find its way through the strangled words stuck in my throat.

“I’ll help you.” I spoke, breaking the heavy silence.

“Really?” His face was so full of hope it sent my heart clenching between my ribs.

“Yeah. This is making me anxious as well, I have no other choice.” I answered, brushing it off with a shrug.

“What brings you back here?” said the antiquarian who was busy polishing some old pocket watches, her glaces hanging low on the tip of her nose.

“I- We need some help.” I answered, and her head snapped up to find me and Yoongi staring back at her at the front counter.

“How could an old antiques shop owner possibly be of any help to you youngsters?” She asked again.

“I assure you that I’m not younger than you.” came a comment from Yoongi.

She stared at him, her relaxed expression turning tense, and then she looked at me again. Instead of providing an answer, I put the open vase in front of her. She gave it a quick look and then looked back into my eyes. “You are one stubborn young woman.”

“I’m not here to return it.” I cut her off to explain myself, “I’m here to know how to break the curse and release his soul.”

“I see you let him walk around freely.”

“Why is that a problem?” I asked with furrowed brows.

“Why wouldn’t a wandering dead be a problem to the living?” Her brows rose just as she gestured with her head towards Yoongi, as if stating the most obvious scientific fact, “anyhow, you want to know what to do next, don’t you?”

I hummed.

“All you need to do is throw the ashes into the ocean, let it dissolve and become one with the salt water. Tomorrow, when the sun sets.”

“Why specifically tomorrow?” I asked.

“Full moon. Or else your efforts will go down the drain. Do not let that happen” She emphasized on the last part through gritted teeth.

“How do you know so much?” Yoongi was the one to ask.

“I am nothing but a mere shop owner. Buying old stuff and selling them, that’s what I do.”

“You must be a special kind, then.” He bantered.

She shrugged and replied, “I study my products. We’re talking about items that date back to hundreds of years ago.”

She handed me a small pouch bag and told me to put the ashes in there, saying that it would be easier than carrying an open urn around. She seemed displeased with Yoongi’s presence, which was quite understandable, but it didn’t phase him as he was more interested in the shop around him. Walking around with curious eyes.

“Do not spend too much time out there.” was the last thing she addressed to Yoongi before we walked out of the shop.

“You think there’s more cursed things in that shop?” he asked.

“I do not want to think about it.” He chuckled at my response, then I added, “Full moon is tomorrow night.. Do you want to spend one last day with me?"

"Sorry?"

"I think you deserve one last good day before.. resting."

I watched him give my offer a thought as we walked down the street, then he broke into a wide smile, "You mean it?"

“Of course! You’re new here. We can't do much in less than a day, but we can do things around the town. And then we’ll go to the beach before the sun sets, do what we need to do…”

“That sounds way too good to be true.”

“We'll make it true.” I reassured him with a nod.

The next morning, I found Yoongi sitting with a book I could easily recognize from my own collection resting in his hands. He had told me that since he doesn’t sleep, he spent the night reading from my bookshelf. After a few minutes of me listening as he talked so passionately, impressed by everything he’d read, I decided it was time to commence my mission of granting the man his most merited happy day.

It started with a short trip to a well-known bakery, where I made him try whatever his heart—and stomach—desired of baked goods. I bought him wine to taste, and he said it bore no resemblance to that of ancient times. That's how we found ourselves running a taste test on a bunch of beverage bottles, and he had the same reaction to all of them. I also ended up getting him some soda cans to try, and he liked them.

I rented two bikes. It took some time for him to adjust, whining about being confined inside a jar for a hundred years. But once he got the hang of it, we went wandering around the streets of the city with the breeze kissing our cheeks.

I then brought him to a park, one he later said he really liked. We walked between the trees and let the grass tickle our toes. Sat between colorful flowers, redolent with the scent of an early spring. He made a crown and insisted on taking a picture of me with it. He later revealed that he used to love nature the most when he was still alive, and talked about the days he’d spent in the green despite his father’s constant insistence on marriage and building a family of his very own.

I asked him how old he was when he died, he said twenty-eight. And suddenly, his appearance made sense after that. Too young and too handsome, how could the world still let go of him?

He laughed when I made a comment about that and joked, saying that apparently his past lover didn’t want him to live past twenty-eight. I could feel the heavy pain in that joke slicing at my neck, stinging, and I swallowed it down.

He stopped to pet every dog and cat that crossed our path. I couldn’t help but take a picture or two, though the camera never caught his reflection in its frame.

I made sure to drag him towards the kid’s section of the park, where I taught him how to play in the slides and the swings and spring riders. Two grown-ups playing around in a kids’ playground had its fair amount of questioning stares, but hearing him giggle and seeing his wide grin was more than worth it.

We kept on talking nonstop about the differences between our timelines. We made it to a bridge that looked over a lake, the clouds above reflected on the water surface, glowing with the sun behind them. Yoongi started throwing small pieces of bread for the floating ducks, and I just stood there, observing.

“What other place do you want to go to?”

“The beach.” He answered, not looking up from his task. “My favorite place.”

It was a couple of hours before the sunset when we finally made it to the beach. There was a chill in the air that evening, the sand wasn’t as burning as it probably was when the sun was still up high in the sky, beaming. I let my lungs sip on the fresh scent of the ocean as I took a deep breath in, watching Yoongi approach the water with distant eyes.

He let the foamy edge climb its way to his toes, dipping his ankles and then retreating to the sea. He sat on the sand and I did the same.

We didn’t talk. We just sat there and watched the waves dancing with the wind as the sun sank to meet the horizon.

It wasn’t until shades of blue, orange and red blended, interwoven as they painted the breathtaking scenery before us that he spoke in a hushed voice, as though he’d startle the sun and make it rush to hide under the ocean if he spoke any louder, “Thank you for everything, really. No one has ever been this nice to me, even when I was still alive. This meant the most to me.”

I smiled.

“You know, if I were still alive, or if we had met sometime in my lifetime, I would’ve done everything I could to keep you by my side.” I could see him scratch at the back of his head from the corner of my eye, and I turned to see his giddy smile.

“you shouldn’t say things like this ‘cause I’m going to be thinking about it for the rest of my life.” I said, sheepishly.

His smile grew bigger, “Sounds superb. At least someone will remember me.”

My heart clenched.

“You deserve to be remembered.” I said.

“I really don’t.” I could see tears pricking his eyes as they turned a faint red. I had so much to ask at that moment, but I couldn’t. Words were stuck behind my teeth, and I just turned my head to face the horizon again.

“It’s time.” He noted, standing up and offering his hand to me. I took it in mine and stood on my feet, gripping the pouch between my fingers. We marched deeper into the sea, deep enough that the water reached our knees.

“ready?” I asked one last time, and he nodded, his smile never fading away.

The pouch felt so heavy as I untied its drawstring, carefully emptying its content into the water. Yoongi stood behind me, and I didn’t have the heart to look over my shoulder.

It took everything in me to turn around, and when I did, he was no longer there. Breeze blew in my face, and I swear I could feel warmth touching my skin for a moment, or two.

Whether I’d want to visit that antique shop again or not was something I still can’t put my finger on, but somewhere, somehow, deep down I knew I was thankful for it guided the vase– the urn to my hands.

And I whispered prayers of him resting at peace ever after as I looked up at the glowing moon above and the sparkling stars that swimmed all around it.

Grieving a person I never knew, but had the chance to cross paths with, at last.

[withyouwithoutthem]

Eat, Sleep, Wake (Nothing But You) Ellie Williams

Modern College AU. Dealer!Ellie x F!Reader

Summary: When Reader and Ellie find themselves locked in a room together they’re forced to face the misunderstanding that occurred between them three years prior. Reader isn’t ready to let it go, but Ellie is willing to persuade her otherwise. 

WC: 9.5k Buckle up, it’s a long one.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI!!! consumption of alcohol, smoking marijuana, brief description of reader’s outfit, mentions of divorced parents and foster care, ANGST, mutual pining, reader and ellie are both idiots, ellie being a little manipulative, SMUT, fingering and oral sex (r recieving)

A/N: i got super stoned last night and considered not posting this. second half is NOT proof read and feels a bit rushed. it's also very different from anything else i’ve written and i don’t know how i feel about it. initially i didn't intend for it to be this long (like 18 pages in gdocs, might be overkill) but it seems i don’t know how to write anything that’s not shakespearean in length, so sincere apologies. are people even into fics this long? i know i am but thats not the point. first time smut writer soooo that was fun! remember that feedback is always highly appreciated as well as like and reblogs! enjoy!!

You had dragged yourself to the party tonight in hopes of easing the heaviness that had settled in your stomach following the news delivered by your father that morning. It was hardly an appropriate conversation to have over the phone, yet your father could not give you the luxury of speaking about  it in person. His words had been pinging around in your head all day, so when your roommate and best friend, Dina, brought up the idea of going to a party— you jumped at it with no questions asked.

Getting ready had been a small distraction for the time being, the notion of getting all “prettied up” for the night seeming good enough. Pregaming with a couple shots of tequila each had you feeling a new kind of sexy as you did your makeup; black eyeshadow skillfully smudged around your eyes in a tasteful wing, a light layer of glitter swiped across your lids. You’d dressed yourself in your favourite pair of jeans—the ones that hugged your ass in the best way— and a black open back top. 

You and Dina were both a giggling mess on the bus ride over to the frat, earning a fair share of odd glances from a few of the other patrons. Had you not been buzzed already, you would have felt embarrassed and maybe even apologized to those around you, but alcohol was buzzing in your veins on the track to having a fun night out.

The music could be heard from outside the frat house, but as soon as the two set foot through the doorway, it pumped right through their chests, leaving them with a buzz different from the alcohol. Sweaty bodies packed together tightly throughout the main floor, spilling out into the backyard where the party continued. In the kitchen they found the counter littered with bottles of booze and plenty of snacks— which you had learned not to touch the hard way, when you caught a god-awful stomach bug during first year. 

Dina’s eyes scanned the labels, fingers dancing overtop the bottles as she searched for one in particular, “Aha!” She exclaimed, “This’ll do.”

“Dina, there’s like seven different bottles of whiskey. It’s all the same.”

“Nuh-uh,” Dina shook her head, pouring a shots worth into the two plastic cups you set out. “This is the good stuff, no wonder they had it at the back.”

You didn’t have a chance to see the label, and couldn’t find yourself caring about the brand as you clinked your cup against Dina’s, sending your friend a wink before throwing the shot back. Dina had been right, this was the good stuff; smooth but smokey, warming your chest on the way down yet still sent shivers up your spine. 

The pair were quick to down a second one, and it wasn’t long before the girls found themselves being joined by their friends Jesse and Kate. They celebrated their arrival with a third before mixing their fourth with some semi-flat ginger ale they’d found. Dina had managed to convince you, who wasn’t much of a dancer, to join her where the mass of sweaty bodies moved in tandem with the music pulsing through them. 

You stood behind Dina, a hand on her hip as she slightly swayed side to side. The girl in front of you seemed to let the music consume her, dancing back onto her friend unaware of the attention she attracted from those around them. A sheen layer of sweat began to perspire on your back, hair sticking to the exposed skin. The heat of the room and the alcohol bubbling in your veins had you loosening up, but as Dina encouraged her to dance more freely— you knew you’d need another drink to do so. 

“I’ll be back! Gonna get another drink.” you spoke into Dina’s ear, who smiled and turned to dance with Jesse and Kate.

Back in the kitchen, you grabbed a new cup and searched for the bottle of whiskey Dina had stashed away again. You were bumped from behind as you poured the shot, more of it ended up spilled on the counter than in the cup. You cursed and grabbed a rag from the sink to wipe it up. As you moved to bring the cup up to your mouth, you found yourself stopping once it touched your lips, catching sight of who stood just outside the sliding doors. 

Ellie Williams.

Dressed in black jeans and a white tank top with an unbuttoned red and brown flannel overtop, Ellie Williams stood with a small group on the back deck, occasionally smoking off a joint as it made its rounds. Even though Ellie no longer attended school, she was still the resident weed dealer on campus, and had quite the reputation for not only how good her stuff was, but also how quickly she made her way through the school's population of queer women. 

The two of you had been friends once, meeting through your mutual friend, Dina. You had developed a certain fondness for Ellie during the times you found yourselves together. Ellie’s quick witted responses and terrible jokes made you laugh even when nobody else found them funny. It was Ellie’s little touches here and there that had your skin buzzing with a fire that couldn’t be put out; grabbing your elbow to pull you back from crossing the street when you weren’t paying attention, interlocked fingers in crowded spaces, and a soothing hand on your back that time you emptied your stomach onto some poor ladies flower garden during homecoming week.

Ellie’s voice often had your stomach doing somersaults—low and raspy during morning classes, knowing the auburn haired girl had probably only rolled out of bed fifteen minutes prior. Silky smooth in the late hours of the night, where on occasion you found yourself sitting alone with Ellie in Dina’s living room long after she retired to bed. You would be buzzing with a high courtesy of Ellie’s weed paired with whatever alcohol you’d drank that night. Ellie would be speaking at no more than a murmur, flirty remarks falling past her lips that had you scooting to sit closer. Heart pounding in your chest at the feeling of Ellie’s body pressed against your side. Though, when it came to Ellie, it was hard to know whether or not the words coming out of her mouth held any merit. She was a serial flirt afterall. 

You two grew close, no longer needing Dina with them as an excuse to hangout. By then, your fondness for Ellie had grown into a full-blown crush. Ellie’s touchy side had become more apparent the more you hung out, always touching you in some way; whether it be a hand on your knee under the table while surrounded by friends, a hand in your back pocket while walking, lips brushing the shell of your ear as she whispered. It had even gone so far as a heated makeout on your couch. Ellie had insisted on walking you home after leaving Dina’s apartment, it was late and upon arriving at your place the two of you realized they didn’t want the night to end. 

It was under the orange glow of streetlights that you admired each other for what felt like an eternity. You took notice that the scar in Ellie’s right eyebrow that she’d always hide with her bangs was out in the open for the world to see. The freckles that littered her cheeks and nose were more noticeable in your close proximity, and you could just make out a small fleck of brown in Ellie’s green eyes. Just as you opened your mouth to invite Ellie inside, hand reaching out to trace a finger along the scar in her eyebrow did the auburn-haired girl quickly surge forward, moulding your lips together in a gentle yet somewhat sloppy kiss. 

You were buzzing, alight with so many feelings that all you could do was grab at Ellie with greedy hands and fumble backwards into your apartment. Close was not close enough as Ellie led you blindly to your couch, shoes haphazardly strewn in the entryway, accompanied by long forgotten jackets as hands pulled one another tighter. 

This was it, you thought. Solid evidence that the feelings you had for Ellie weren’t one sided, every touch, every locked gaze from across a crowded room, and every sweet endearment shared between you meant something. 

Ellie’s hands were in your hair, tangled in the strands keeping your lips married to each other as you found your place seated in her lap. There was a fire ignited between you two as your hips canted downwards into Ellie for some much needed friction. Ellie gasps into the kiss and you take that as a moment to catch your breath. It’s all droopy eyes and kiss-swollen lips as your eyes meet, giggles falling from both of you at the other's appearance. You’re both filled with such giddiness from heavy makeout. 

You’re playing with the hair at the back of her neck when you smile. “I really like you Ellie.”

It stings to watch her face fall, head slowly reeling back as if to get a better look at you somehow. Too soon is Ellie lifting you off her lap to stand from the couch, placing a fleeting kiss on your cheek and calling out a quick goodnight over her shoulder as she turned and made her way home.

“Ellie? What’s wrong?”

She’s at the door in the blink of an eye, tugging on her sneakers and grabbing her jacket, “I uh. . . Just remembered that I needed to help Joel out with this super important, uh, thing. Like really early in the morning. Yeah. And it’s pretty late so I should probably head out.”

Your shoulders deflate with the disappointment twisting between your ribs. “Oh, okay. . .” 

Ellie’s wringing her jacket in both her hands, struggling to maintain eye contact with you before she’s turning around and making her exit out your front door. “See ya soon! Goodnight!” She calls out over her shoulder.

That was the last time you spoke to Ellie Williams. 

The next time you saw Ellie—over a week later— she was wrapped up in the tattoo covered arms of a girl with short black hair. Later, Dina informed you that the girl with Ellie was her new girlfriend, Cat.

You were left confused and hurt for a long time after seeing Ellie with Cat, not knowing where along the way things between you two may have gone wrong. Ellie had avoided you and if she wasn’t going to talk, you would do just the same, never seeking out more of an explanation. The hurt and confusion you initially felt had turned to some form of hatred along the way, every time you saw Ellie and Cat it seemed to take over another part of you. At least that’s what you tried convincing yourself, and for some time disguising the feelings of adoration as disgust and hatred did work.

But avoiding each other altogether would be difficult.

Even after Ellie didn’t return to school for second year, and sharing a mutual friend in Dina, you could not seem to shake yourself free of Ellie. It felt like wherever you turned Ellie happened to be close by; whether that be walking on campus, or attending a party like tonight. For Dina’s sake, when you found yourself within unavoidable close proximity to Ellie, you kept things civil despite the slow boil rising in your blood and the pain that festered in your chest.

Ellie and Cat broke up after almost a year of dating, and her other flings never seemed to work for more than a few weeks, at most a couple months which had only happened one other time. You doubted that Ellie had any idea of the humiliation and grief her rejection had caused you.

It was as if Ellie could feel your gaze boring a hole into the side of her head, because in an instant she was turning to look inside where she found you standing at the kitchen counter. Ellie sent a slight smirk your way, continuing conversation with the people standing around her, never once letting her eyes move away from you. The smell of the whiskey suddenly had your stomach twisting unpleasantly when Ellie shot a wink your way, a wave of nausea rolling through you saw the cup  discarded in search for the nearest bathroom.

You skipped trying to find one in the crowded space of the main floor, quickly making your way up the stairs and to the second floor where you found yourself knocking on closed doors in search of an empty room. You had no luck on the second floor either, and dreaded the idea of having to climb another flight of stairs to the third. The only empty room happened to be at the end of the hall, and while it wasn’t a bathroom, the air in the bedroom helped in quelling the nausea, no longer heavy with the scent of sweat and alcohol. Breathing deeply through your nose and out your mouth, you sat on the edge of the bed to steady yourself.

You blamed your intoxicated state for the reaction that seemed to spur as a result of the interaction with Ellie from across the kitchen. You thought you’d metabolized the idea that Ellie’s flirting with you had meant nothing and moved on. Having had a fair share of face to face interactions since, but either Dina or Jesse had been there with you.

God, you felt like such an idiot. All you’d done was make eye contact with Ellie and it had you hurtling towards a downward spiral you tried your hardest to stay afloat in. You hadn’t realized the chokehold Ellie seemed to have over you for the three years you’d known each other, and in your drunken state it had not fared well. You’d figured the feeling that grew in your stomach any time you saw Ellie with a new girl had just been disgust. Disgust in not knowing how Ellie could feel good about herself when she rotated through women like they were a picture book. But now, you had some idea that the feeling washing over you had not been disgust on its own, but paired alongside something akin to hurt.

Ellie was the bandaid you hesitated to rip off. 

There was no scale to measure how frustrated she was with herself. No scale to measure her disdain for the Williams girl. Deep down, you knew that she still harboured some feelings for Ellie that couldn't be disguised as hatred.

You must have sat there for a good five minutes, willing yourself to get up and rejoin the party, enjoy yourself and not let Ellie get to you. But you found that something was stopping you from leaving, wanting to stay in the solitude of the bedroom just a little longer. Sending a text to Dina, letting her know you were alright, you laid back on the bed and closed your eyes. 

You were startled awake no longer than fifteen minutes later by the door opening, the sounds of the party filtering into the room for a moment before drowning out again as the door shut. The person's back was to you as they took a deep breath, but you recognized the flannel they wore immediately. Your groan had Ellie turning around to face you fully, lips tipping up into a slight smirk.

“Hey.” Ellie greeted slyly. Hearing your name fall from Ellie’s lips had a flame flickering in your stomach. “Finally found ya.”

Your eyes narrow in Ellie’s direction, annoyance hanging onto your furrowed brows. Standing from the bed, weight shifting from one foot to the other as you think on your next move. You had left downstairs over twenty minutes ago, meaning Ellie had to have run through whether following you was a good idea or not. “So, what? You were lurking, followed me up here.”

“I didn’t follow you. Ran into an ex and needed a breather.” Ellie clarifies, lazily gesturing around the room, “And here we are. . .”

“Yeah, well, I came up here to be alone. You being here is the opposite of that.” came your snarky reply. Ellie would not be spared your hostilities. 

Ellie laughed, brushing her side swept bangs out of her eyes, “I saw the look on your face down there, almost barfed on the poor freshman beside you.” she shrugs her shoulders, “Didn’t see you come back downstairs so I took my chances with all the doors, this was the only one unlocked. Thought you could use someone to hold your hair back.”

“You wanted to help me?” You were baffled. That hot, stuffy feeling begins to creep its way back up your neck the longer Ellie’s presence lingers by the door. The air of confidence that clings to Ellie is suffocating as she stands there, biceps bulging in her flannel as her arms cross over her chest, bottom lip tucked between her teeth. Ellie’s green eyes are intense as they hold your gaze; half lidded and filled with something you can’t decipher. 

“Well,” you clear your throat. “I’m feeling much better now, so if you’ll excuse me.” Making way to the door that Ellie is standing in front of. You hope of being able to make it out of the room before choking on your words—not wanting to say something you’ll inevitably regret. 

Ellie moves in front of the door handle, blocking your seeking grip. You reel back, perplexed that Ellie blocked you. Trying again, you reach around the left of Ellie, but the auburn-haired girl moves with you. Move to the right. So does Ellie.

Stepping back in frustration, your stare is burning, “Move.” You grit.

Ellie lifts her gaze to the ceiling, eyes darting around playfully as she whistles a low tune, rocking back and forth on her feet. She’s messing with you and you know it. Always the jokester, Ellie is never one to take things too seriously.

“Ellie.” You refrain from stomping your foot. Ellie would only tease you relentlessly for acting like such a brat, “Ellie, let me leave.”

A low hum comes from Ellie’s throat, “What’s the magic word?”

No longer wanting to deal with her infuriating presence, you surge forward and push Ellie to the side enough that she’s out of the way. Wrapping your hands around the cool metal of the doorknob is your first lick at freedom, awaiting the moment you step through that door and go home to curl up in bed. You’ll likely wallow in self deprecation, unable to think of anything other than your first interaction alone with Ellie in a while.

Your hope is squashed when the door doesn’t budge. No, this cannot be happening. Twisting the handle again, you give it a good tug, hand slipping off the doorknob as you stumble back a few steps.

“Did you lock it?” You ask Ellie without looking at her.

“No.” Ellie replies, coming to stand closer to you. “Must be jammed.”

You groan, a string of expletives rushing past grit teeth while you jostle the doorknob with all the force as you can muster. You twist and tugs and rattle but the door stays solidly in place, sealing you and Ellie together in the room.

Kicking the door has a laugh slipping past Ellie’s lips. She can’t help but think of how cute you look when frustrated—the pout of lips she just wants to sink her teeth into. The glare from over your shoulder has Ellie coughing to cover her laugh, scratching at her neck and cheeks blazing red like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

You bang your fist against the door in hopes that someone may be able to hear her pleas for help. The chances of that happening in the secluded corner of the third floor is unlikely, but you’d rather take your chances than be stuck in a room with Ellie. “Oh, just fuck me right?” you mumbles to yourself.

Behind you, Ellie fights the urge to respond. 

“Are you gonna help?” you sigh heavily, gesturing towards the door in an exhausted manner.

Ellie’s nodding, eyes dancing around the room for something she can use to try picking the lock. She doesn’t see a screwdriver or a pair of scissors on the desk, and she doubts that the frat boy this room belongs to owns any bobby pins. Ellie moves towards the door in the far corner of the room, opening it to reveal the small ensuite she’d hoped it would be. 

Rummaging through the medicine cabinet is a dead end, as is the first drawer of the vanity. In the second drawer her mission is made successful—finding a small pair of scissors that she waves in the air triumphantly as she passes you.

“There was a bathroom here the whole time. . .” you mutter to yourself in disbelief. 

Ellie drops down to her knees in front of the door, eye level with the small keyhole as she tries jimmying the scissors around. Her tongue is poking out the side of her mouth, one eye squeezed shut in concentration as she tries to unlatch the lock's inner mechanism. Had the circumstance been different, you may have let yourself linger on the thought of how good Ellie looked down on her knees before you. 

Ellie thinks she might have gotten it, but mistakenly looks up at you hovering close by— brows furrowed expectantly, and lips pouted slightly— that she’s fumbling and dropping the scissors while thinking about how much she likes the sight of you above her. She grabs them hastily, returning to her previous task while reminding herself not to look back at your expectant gaze. 

“Have you picked a lock before?” you accuse.

“Uh. . . yeah.”

“Well you’re kinda shit at it.”

“Never said I was any good.” Ellie twists the doorknob just when she thinks she hears the lock click, but it still doesn’t give. 

Standing to her full height, Ellie forgoes trying to pick the lock with the scissors and puts all of her weight into pulling the door open. She grunts as her muscles strain, jostling the handle in the same way you had. Both girls are left wide eyed and stunned when Ellie suddenly staggers back, catching herself before she can fall. A loud and heavy thud draws your eyes to the floor; where the doorknob rolls around at your feet. 

A deafening silence settles over the room as both of you watch it stop rolling. Ellie is the one to bend down and grab it, staring at the broken metal doorknob in disbelief, while your hands shoot to grip your hair.

When both of you realize the gravity of the situation you've found yourselves in together, you’re quick to panic. The headache that blossoms was unrelated to the copious amount of alcohol you’d consumed up until that point, and more so due to being stuck in a room with a busted door alongside the one person you tried your hardest to avoid. You eyed the broken off doorknob in Ellie’s hand, tugging at fistfuls of your hair. Ellie groans, head tossed back and eyes shut in annoyance before sitting on the bed.

“Fuck,” Ellie let out a breathy laugh, beginning to toss the doorknob in the air like a baseball. “These old houses are something, huh? Practically falling apart.” 

Holding Ellie’s gaze for a moment as you pull out your phone has a spark of hope flickering, but the screen remains black. Great, stuck in a room with Ellie Williams and your only chance is dead. Tossing your phone on the bed you turn to Ellie. “Dead. What about yours?”

Ellie nods and reaches for where she kept her phone in her back pocket, only to be met with emptiness. She let out a nervous laugh under your intense stare, patting at all her pockets in search of her phone, “I don’t have it on me.”  

You scoff, “Fucking great. Do you think this guy has a charger?” Moving to check the bundle of cords at the single bedside table has you throwing it back onto the floor in frustration when you come up empty handed. “Android.”

“What is it that they say about guys who have Androids. . .” Ellie made an attempt at a joke, but was only met with a glare, watching as you made quick strides towards the window, unlatching the lock and yanking it open.

You looked around outside to see that it was a straight drop down to the ground from the third floor window, no lattice to climb down or shrubs to cushion a fall, “No roof access and it's too far up to jump,” you stated. “Maybe if we just—” you stuck your upper body out the window, flailing your arms, “Hey! Up here! We’re locked in can someone help—”

Ellie was quick to pull you back inside. “Hey, would you stop that? You could have fallen! Everyone outside is too drunk to hear you.”

“Well someone has to be at least partly sober.” Now it was your turn to sit on the bed, head in your hands in a clear display of frustration. Ellie was hesitant to move from where she stood by the window, the feeling of your presence was somewhat suffocating, and she didn’t know what might set you off. 

“Ya know,” Ellie started. “We’re probably gonna be stuck in here for a while, so we could always try to enjoy our time rather than pout our way through it.”

You turned to look at Ellie over your shoulder, weary of what the auburn-haired girl might try suggesting. “And what is it that you have in mind?”

Reaching into her jacket pocket, Ellie produced a bag of pre-rolled joints, shrugging her shoulders in a playful manner. You could only roll your eyes, annoyed over the fact that Ellie managed to keep hold of her weed stash but not her phone. Smoking with Ellie would mean breaking down part of the barrier you had put up between the two of you, something you weren't so sure you were ready to explore quite yet. But, neither of you knew how long you’d be cooped up in that frat boy’s bedroom together, and you found yourself caving.

“Oh fuck it, sure.”

Ellie smiled and walked over to sit beside you, grabbing a single pre-roll and stashing the rest away. She placed the joint between her lips as she fished through the tight front pocket of her black jeans for her lighter. Flicking the lighter a few times to get it going, Ellie inhaled deeply as the end of it began to burn a bright red. She pulled the joint away from her lips as she breathed out the ghosted smoke, holding it out to you. 

Truth be told, you hadn’t smoked in a while—not since dropping your plug for getting too handsy on more than one occasion—and had been too proud to swing by Ellie to make a deal. You knew first hand and from the inner mumblings throughout the student body of just how good Ellie’s stuff was, so whatever was smoked tonight would have you ripped.

Inhaling shortly on the joint, and letting the smoke settle in your lungs before taking another, longer drag. On your second exhale, you sputtered, coughing on the smoke and releasing it in a dense cloud. You continued to cough into the crook of your elbow while passing it back to Ellie whose lips were pulled up into a slight smile.

“Too much?” Ellie teased, taking an easy five second drag.

Shaking your head, you rub at your chest to soothe the mild burning in your lungs, a light laugh falls from you, “Just been a while.”

Ellie gives a nod of her head, leaning back on her right hand to get a better look at you, watching the way hair falls in front of your face as you look down at your lap, or the way you would lightly snap the hair tie around your wrist. 

“Sooo. . .” Ellie brushes her long bangs out of her eyes. “What had you drinking whiskey like it was water?”

You shrugged, seeming to not know what to do with fidgeting hands as you contemplated telling Ellie the truth. Had you been having this conversation in a sober setting, you would have quickly shut down Ellie’s question. But in a hazy state of mind, you find herself letting the words slip easily, “Got a call from my dad today telling me mom filed for divorce after she found out he was fucking the book keeper at work.” you nod at Ellie’s shocked expression, “Yeah. Tried playing the victim card before mom had a chance to tell me herself. She’s better off without him anyway. He was a dick.”

Letting out a loud groan, you’re rubbing at your eyes in frustration as the phone call from that morning replays on a loop. Ellie didn’t grow up in a two-parent household, rather making her way through the foster care system ever since she could remember. Her behavioural issues saw her never being in one place for very long. Instability was something she grew used to at an early age, but she’d often imagine what it would be like to have two functioning parents who loved and adored her. Though she has never experienced family in the way you did— at least, not until Joel had come around— she knew no matter the age, a drastic shift in family dynamic like that wasn’t easy.

“It’s just me and my dad,” Ellie finds herself offering in an attempt at comfort. “Well, he’s not actually my dad. Joel he’s my. . . Joel. Took me in a while back when I found myself in a boatload of trouble, and it’s been the two of us ever since. Oh, and his brother Tommy.”

“And does your. . . your Joel, know that you, ya know, deal drugs to college students?”

“Not just college students, I’ve got some middle aged customers— a lawyer too if you can believe it.” Ellie laughs, and you follow by hiding a smile behind your hand. “But yeah, he knows. Wasn’t too keen on it at first, but the money has helped us through some tough times.”

A stale silence falls over the room, and it has a bitter taste flooding your mouth, saliva gathering under your tongue unpleasantly. Ellie seems so at ease that you wonder if she ever thinks about how things ended. You sure do; though it's lessened over the years, you still hold Ellie on some tightrope of contempt, a terrible balancing act teetering between holding on and letting it all go once and for all.

“I hope you know this changes nothing.” you admit quietly, rolling the joints filter between your thumb and forefinger. “Still don’t like you.”

Ellie looks up at you for a moment and she can feel her heart clench as she takes in your rigid shoulders and determined eyes. Her hand motions for the joint as she nods solemnly, eyes downcast while she takes a long drag. “Yeah I. . . I kinda figured it didn’t.”

As the joint continued to be passed back and forth, you could feel the haziness cloud your mind, eyes glazing over and the only thing you could do was stare at Ellie’s hands. Watching as her nimble fingers grabbed the joint from you, thumb rolling over the filter after she toked off it. How when she wasn’t the one holding the joint, Ellie had to keep her hands busy; whether that be running them over the top of her thighs, playing with the bedding, or watching the tip of her pinky finger turn purple as she wrapped a stray piece of thread around it tightly.

You had been so zoned out watching Ellie you’d almost forgotten about holding the short joint, or that no smoke filled your lungs when trying to take a pull off of it. It wasn’t until Ellie’s hand reached out into focus to grab the joint from you did you snap to it.

“You let it go out. Here,” with the joint now in Ellie’s hands, you watched as she held it between her thumb and middle finger, running the flame of her lighter over the tip of the joint before bringing it up to take a haul, keeping it lit. “There you go, babe.” 

The word must have fallen out of Ellie’s mouth so naturally that she didn’t notice it, but you sure as hell did— brain just about short circuiting. With one last pull off the finished joint, you stand up and make your way to the attached bathroom, turning on the tap and running the smouldering end under water to extinguish it before tossing it in the trash. You bend down to the height of the sink, hands cupped to greedily drink down the cold water to soothe your dry throat. When you stand up to be greeted with your reflection in the mirror— eyes red and glazed over, lids slightly droopy when you’re not pretending that Ellie’s stuff didn’t hit you as hard as it did, cheeks flush from the drinks earlier in the night, you know you’re fucked.

Ellie is standing by the desk on the far wall when you lean on the bathroom doorway, head craned as she scans over the trophies and picture frames decorating the shelves above it. With Ellie facing away, you now have the chance to stare at her unabashedly. Eyes trailing over Ellie’s shoulders, broad yet slim, and muscular arms that flex under her flannel with even the smallest of movements. Down to her taught hips hidden behind her relaxed jeans. Her auburn hair sits in a half up half down bun, and you want nothing more than to run your fingers through the strands; braid it, twirl it, pull it. . .

Your cheeks are burning hot again, but this time the alcohol  can’t be blamed for your flushed appearance. With hands still cold from the running water, pressing them against your cheeks in an attempt to cool off works as well as you’d expect it.

When you catch Ellie’s gaze, you’re tearing your eyes away impossibly fast, busying yourself with making it look like the football poster on the wall is the coolest thing ever, “Ya know, for a frat boys room this is surprisingly well organized.” you comment.

“Yeah, this is Ryan’s room.” Ellie fixes a crooked trophy. “Pretty chill dude.”

Humming, you make herself comfortable on the bed, laying down on the soft pillows. As you adjust yourself, a crackling noise comes from underneath the pillow that has you shifting to reach under to grab it. The last thing you expected to pull out was a mens porn magazine, decked out with a raunchy cover of an oiled up man in a tiny speedo. You let out a yelp as you’re tossing it to the other side of the room, wiping your hand off on your pants.

The yelp catches the attention of Ellie, who whips around concerned, “What?” 

“That!” you exclaim, pointing towards the end of the bed where the magazine sits on the floor. Ellie bends down to pick it up, but you’re calling out in protest, “No, don’t touch it!”

“Oh wow,” Ellie lets out a loud laugh as she scans over the front cover, moving to flop down on the bed beside you.

“Ellie, gross put it down!” 

Ellie leans away from you who tries swatting it out of her grasp. “Hold your horses! I wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

You groan, watching as Ellie flips through the pages. You don't think it can get any worse, but page after page proves to be more unpleasant when the next portrait of a man posing with nothing but a scrap of cloth to cover his junk comes up. Your lips are downturned in disgust, but your ears are in tune to the chuckles Ellie lets out at the pictures, and her dramatic reading of the explicitly detailed  little captions. 

The next page is folded in on itself a couple times, falling open when Ellie holds the magazine above your heads, “Oh man! How the hell does he even walk around with that thing?” She exclaims.

You turn your head away, fake gagging. “Dicks are so gross.”

Ellie snorts, “Don’t gotta tell me.” Eyeing your side profile from where your head is ducked into your hands, eyes shut. It’s then that Ellie decides to play a trick on you. “Uh. . .” she begins trailing off, ruffling the pages as if she were flipping through them, “Why are these pages all stuck together?”

Your head whips up to look at Ellie, “Gross!”

The laugh that Ellie lets out is straight from her belly, deep and contagious as she tosses the magazine away. “I’m just messing with you.”

When your eyes meet, Ellie’s hold their usual mischievous glint, slightly narrowed and crinkled at the corners where her smile pushes at them, and yours show nowhere near as much annoyance and malice that’s usually directed towards her. Ellie flips onto her back, hands going behind her head while you stay on your stomach. You’re still laughing quietly at the joke Ellie pulled on you, which has the smile on Ellie’s face pulling even higher as she looks at you, oblivious.

With you laying on your  stomach, Ellie was given a full view of your exposed back. It made the collar of her flannel suddenly feel itchy where it was rubbing against her neck. Ellie could feel the red hot flush that blossomed over her as she pictured teasing her fingers along your back. She could practically feel the shudder you’d let out, hear your complaints of being ticklish.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” Ellie is snapped out of her daze when your voice cuts through. 

You’ve got your chin resting on your hand, leaning to the side to look up at Ellie who’s sitting taller. Your legs are bent at the knee, legs swaying in the air. The look in your eyes is smouldering; lids droopy as they buzz with something Ellie can only connect with so much need that it's beginning to overwhelm her.

“Like— like that! You’re giving me bedroom eyes.”

“Well,” Ellie sits up a little straighter on her elbows. “We are in a bedroom.”

Your forehead falls to lay on Ellie’s arm as you let out a howling laugh. Ellie’s skin burns through her flannel at the feeling of you on her. Ellie finds herself feeling reminiscent of a time three years ago when she might have found herself in such close proximity to you and it has her chest clenching with a raw ache, knowing she’d gone and fucked it all up.

“Hey,” Ellie begins with a laugh. “Remember that time your mom surprised you and caught you, me, and Dina all smoking—”

You remember in that instant why you’d been so determined to get out of being locked in a room with her. Although inebriated, it seemed that for a little while tonight you and Ellie had managed to slip back into something similar to that of your old friendship. As if you had almost looked past the last three years. Falling back into joking with each other like it was the most natural thing.

“No.” You’re firm, tone dripping with finality. “You don’t get to do this.” 

“Please—”

“Ellie. No.”

“I’m sorry.” 

It’s so quiet you almost don’t hear her. Ellie herself almost misses the words slipping past her lips, but she feels you go stiff, the sound of your sharp inhale rings in her ears. She can't help herself when her hand moves up to your head, brushing some of the strands behind your ear and twirling the ends.

Three years of waiting. Three years of wanting and avoiding, and the need to hear those words fall from her mouth, and all it took was getting locked in a room together and sharing a joint. You’d imagined the apology a few times. Ellie showing up on your doorstep, soaked to the bone in the rain, on her knees grovelling her apologies. Sending flowers. Some huge declaration of love.

But not in a frat boys bedroom, stoned with Ellie Williams.

“Do you remember how we first met?” Ellie continues when you don’t speak, still twirling your hair around her finger. “Homecoming freshman year. Dina said she had someone from her compsci class to introduce me to and I was ready to clam up because I’m terrible with new people. But then there you were—”

“Ellie—” you try cutting her off.

“—Vodka in your nalgene, and being around you just felt so easy. You were the prettiest girl I’d ever met. Even later that night when I held your hair as you puked all over that poor lady’s flower bush. She came out yelling and all you did was say something about fertilising her plants.” Ellie laughs as she recounts the day you two met.

Your headache from earlier is back as you pull away, your hair falling from Ellies fingers. Shutting your eyes in hopes to quell the splitting pain resting just between them, Ellie’s voice fades slightly to the background of your focus. God, you hoped to get out of there soon. It had already been long enough, and it had led to your guard being brought down.

Ellie’s still talking when your ears focus again,“—for the last three years I’ve been trying to work out how to apologize to you and make things right, but fuck, none of them are good enough. And I’m so incredibly sorry about how everything turned out.”

“Ellie.” you interject, sounding exhausted. “Please just stop.” 

She shakes her head, sitting up and moving closer to you, “No, please. If this is the only chance I get at this I need you to listen to me—”

“It won’t change anything, you know that. You still did what you did.” You rub at your eyes and shift away from her.

“And it was by far the worst thing I’ve ever done, and believe me there's been a lot of fuck ups on my part. If I could take it back and make it right I would. . . I will.” 

Ellie’s practically on her hands and knees begging you to hear her out for just a moment, but the hurt of her leaving you stings just as fresh as it had in the beginning. All you can do is shake your head and try putting some distance between the two of you, “Ellie, you’re being mean.” 

It seems that in your attempts at putting some much needed distance between you and Ellie, you failed to notice how close you were to the edge of the bed. You’re about to fall off when Ellie reaches out, her arm wrapping around you to keep you on the bed. The two of you are closer than ever before, her forehead is pressed against yours as she scoots back, bringing you further onto the bed with her arm still secure around you. Your breath stutters in your chest as Ellie’s eyes fall shut. 

“Baby just. . .” Ellie breathes out shakily, eyes opening again to meet yours. “I clammed up and lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You swallow down the lump that’s formed in your throat, voice just above a whisper as you speak, “Ellie why are you doing this?”

She shakes her head against yours, bringing the hand that she had around your back, up to cup your face, “I hope you’re willing to forgive me. . . or at least try to.”

To hear Ellie make this attempt after wanting nothing more for three years had your mind short circuiting in an electrifying blaze. You know that you shouldn’t give in to her, that this apology is probably no more than a half-assed attempt at easing whatever guilt she may hold. Why wait three years? Three years you had spent wondering what you had done wrong for her to throw away whatever it was you two shared.

Ellie watches your eyes glaze over slightly, and in what might be a lapse of judgement is quick to make her move while you’re still stunned, moving forward and kissing you. You grow stiff under the weight of Ellie’s lips on yours, eyes open and looking at Ellie’s shut eyes. With your face now sandwiched between both of Ellie’s hands, do your eyes fall shut and mind catches up to the fact that Ellie William’s is kissing you. 

You’re kissing Ellie Williams.

The kiss is all consuming, tasting of the tequila and whiskey on your tongue. It’s messy with the clashing of teeth, nipping of lips and hands tangled in hair. All rational thought is thrown out the window once you feel her body pressed against yours. Breathing is the last thing on either of your minds as one of Ellie’s hands splays out across your back to pull your body into hers solidly. The searing heat of Ellie’s hand on the exposed skin of your back has you shuddering,  arching into her to try moving away from the touch. 

Your lips stay moulded together as Ellie rolls onto her back, taking you with her, hands holding onto your hips. Ellie can’t get enough of you, her breathing is heavy as she pushes her lips a little harder against yours, a groan escaping the girl's throat as you fist at her flannel. You break apart for a moment so Ellie can shrug out of  her flannel, admiring the swirls of ink marking her right forearm before your lips are on her.

Your teeth are lightly nipping at the slim expanse of Ellie’s neck, hands wandering down the firm muscles of her arms. You’re sitting up together now, you seated in Ellie’s lap, legs on either side of her thighs. Your teeth are still working at Ellie’s neck, which you follow up with sloppy kisses to soothe the sting of making your mark. Ellie’s eyes fall shut at the feeling, but she has to stop before it gets too far. 

Tonight is all about you. 

Grabbing a fistful of hair and gently pulling your head out of her neck, Ellie leans into you, but doesn’t let her lips touch your skin, just letting her hot breath fan over you. Her nose is nudging the column of your throat up to the hook of your jaw. You’re whining, filled to the brim with impatience has you shifting in Ellie’s lap in the attempt to get closer, grinding your hips where the two of you meet.

Ellie groans, dropping her head fully into your neck, lips pressing firmly to your collarbone. Here, your perfume wafts up her nose, a sickly sweet and seductive twinge that has her mouthing at your neck in the same fashion done to her own. Lips dragging lazily up from collarbone to the pulsepoint where your heartbeat thumps erratically beneath the skin. 

With your head thrown back and hips starting a slow and steady drag, you’re all heavy pants and loose whines that never fully slip past your lips. The friction caused by your hips grinding down onto Ellie feels euphoric all the same as not being enough. One of her hands is still stationed on your hip, the other taking place at the small of your back to aid your movements against her. 

The breath in both yours and Ellie’s throats is choked out when the fabric of your jeans catches against your bundle of nerves in just the right way. It must feel just as good for Ellie as she’s grinding her hips up into you at the feeling, panting against your neck. 

“Ellie.” Her name slipping past your lips in a garbled mess of need, “Ellie, please. . .”

She only hums in response, finally kissing you again. It doesn't last as long as you’d have hoped as Ellie pulls away slightly to speak against you, “Mmh, what is it baby? C’mon.”

Your hips cant down into her again out of pure desperation as you pant out, “More.”

Suddenly, you’re being guided by Ellie’s capable hands to lay down on the bed. But in your still muddled mind it feels as if you’ve just gone down the slope of a rollercoaster, stomach dropping and heart in your throat. Ellie is situated above you, looking everything like a dream with her short hair falling around her face, eyes catching the light of the desk lamp and sparkling. She smiles down at you as you both take a moment, and your stomach somersaults, legs locked around her taught hips to pull her down closer to you. 

Dropping to her elbows, Ellie’s body is flush against you as she brings a hand up to grab your face, “What is it you need? Hmm, baby’s gone all needy on me.” The teasing lilt to her tone has you pushing your hips up against hers, lips searching for hers again. Ellie pulls back slightly, getting a better look at your flushed appearance, apples of your cheeks bursting a bright pink.  “Tell me what you want.”

“Need you to touch me.” You pant out.

A smirk pulls at her lips as she dips down to kiss your neck. “I am touching you baby.”

You groan, frustrated and needing for her to do something. “Want your mouth, your fingers. Anything. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

Ellie’s kisses trail down your neck to your still clothed chest, where she graces the swell of your breasts, followed by grazing her teeth over your nipples poking through the fabric. She continues her way down until she reaches the waistband of your jeans, eyes flickering up to yours for confirmation. When Ellie hears you breath out a wispy yes, she’s working at undoing your pants. You’re kicking off your shoes and aiding her in taking off your pants by lifting your hips, her fingers brush over the skin of your thighs in a hot trail.

Your pants and underwear are tossed to the ground with a dull thud, now laying before Ellie bare from the waist down. Her eyes are hungry, looking like a woman starved of everything she’s ever needed. The intensity of her eyes taking you in has you closing your legs self consciously, but Ellie tuts and spreads them open again, laying on her stomach between your legs.

“Look at you, so wet for me.” Ellie purrs, dragging her middle finger through your folds to collect some of your slick. You gasp at the touch, gaze locked on Ellie whose eyes roll back into her skull as she sucks your slick clean from her finger. “So fucking sweet baby, I knew it.”

“Ellie please. . .” you mewl, growing impatient.

Without another second wasted, Ellie’s head is level with your cunt as she licks a bold stripe from your hole up to your clit. Her mouth is hot against you, and even though you’ve just started the feeling is so overwhelming that your legs move to clamp around Ellie’s head. Her strong arms curl around your thighs, prying them away from her head, pinning them down against the bed as she moves your feet to rest over her shoulders. 

Something delightful burns in your stomach as Ellie’s tongue moves through your folds again, warm and wet. A pleasurable sigh leaves you, head thrown back and eyes shut. Your hands are trying to find hold of anything, one gripping at the bedspread and the other wrapped around Ellie’s forearm, feeling the ridges of muscle and tattoo beneath your fingers.

Ellie’s tongue passes through you a couple more times before she’s wrapping her lips around your clit, sucking the bundle of nerves into her mouth. “Mmm, tastes like heaven baby.”

You’re a needy, gasping mess beneath her. Your moans are music to her ears, and Ellie thinks they are the hottest thing she’s ever heard, encouraging her to keep going. Ellie releases your clit from her mouth with a pop, flicking her tongue over it has your hips bucking up into her face for more, “Fuck. . . right there Ellie.” 

Her groan vibrates through you, rustling the tightening coil that sits heavy in your belly. Ellie keeps giving you exactly what you wanted, working at your cunt like it’s her last meal. You pry your eyes open and the sight of Ellie between your legs pulls a loud moan from the back of your throat. Her pale veiny hands tighten their grip on your thighs, fingers pressing into your flesh deliciously. 

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt anything as good as this, with Ellie’s nose nudging at your clit as her mouth moves lower on your cunt, running her tongue along your entrance once, twice, before dipping in. She’s groaning into you, spurring you on. You release your grip on Ellie’s forearm to palm at your breasts, gaze locking with hers from over your mound. Ellie’s hand moves from your thigh to encase your hand with hers where you palm at yourself. 

Ellie takes this moment to catch a breath, leaning her head against your leg. The bottom half of her face is slick, glistening with your arousal that her tongue licks from her lips. She’s panting in a similar fashion to you. “Doing so good f’me baby.” The kiss she places to your inner thigh has you jostling into her touch. 

“Ellie. . . more, I need more.”

She smirks and moves the hand that was on yours back to your cunt, dragging her fingers through your folds and circling them around your clit lazily. It’s too soon that she’s abandoning her ministrations on your clit and moving down to your entrance, teasing her fingers along your opening before she’s pushing them into you.

They move in and out of you slowly at first, Ellie working them up to a steady pace, going as deep as she can,  “Oh god. . .”

“Nope, just Ellie, baby.” She sends you a wink that has you letting out a small chuckle, one that’s cut off by your own moan as her fingers curl against that sweet spot inside you. “My good girl. Lovin’ this, huh?”

You nod weakly, clenching around Ellie’s fingers. She knows you’re probably close, knows that soon, the coil that’s been building in your belly will snap. This has her leaning back down to kiss at your clit. Your hands leave your body and where it grips at the bed to thread through Ellie’s hair, moving the strands that have fallen in front of her face out of the way so you can see her fully. Ellie leaves a series of pecks on your clit before sucking it into her mouth, tongue flicking at it. 

The combined pleasure of having Ellie’s fingers buried deep inside your cunt and her mouth working your clit has the muscles in your legs clenching as you fight the urge to close your legs around her head once again. It’s all too much, your hips are rutting up into her mouth as she continues to lap at you, and you can feel your release hurdling towards you. 

“Ellie,” you whimper, head thrown back against the bed. Your chest is heaving erratically, but Ellie doesn’t let up. The feeling that’s been sitting so heavily in your belly finally lets up as your release hits you, thighs trembling. You twitch and moan as you fall apart against Ellie’s tongue and fingers. The room feels so unbearably warm as your fingers tighten in Ellie’s hair, eyes screwed shut as your mouth drops open in a loud moan. “Fuck! Oh god. . . fuck fuck fuck, Ellie!”

Ellie works you through it, lapping greedily at the arousal that gushes from you, fingers still working steadily as you clench tightly around them. The feeling of her flicking at your clit and fingers curling inside you becomes so overwhelming that you almost push Ellie away from you, but she’s pulling away on her own. 

Both of you are panting, your hands fall from her hair to brush back your own which you’re sure is an ugly tangled mess. You hiss at the loss of Ellie’s fingers as she pulls them out of you, breath  stuttering and catching in your chest as she maintains eye contact with you as she brings them up to her mouth like earlier. Ellie groans at the taste of you on her fingers, acting like a woman starved as if she wasn’t buried between your thighs just a moment ago. 

You hide behind your hands, slightly embarrassed as you let out a laugh. You feel the bed move and soon enough Ellie is above you again, moving your hands away from your face so she can see you properly. She’s smiling down at you, letting out a soft chuckle, “That what you wanted, pretty girl?”

The flush in your cheeks only deepens and you can’t find it in you to form any coherent words, only nodding in response. Ellie’s smile widens —as does yours— as her eyes dance around your face before she’s leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your lips. This kiss is unlike the others you’ve shared tonight, this one is slow, lethargic and full of something you can’t name. 

It’s over quicker than it lasts, a loud banging on the door has you and Ellie pulling away from each other. “Hey, is there someone in ‘ere?” calls out a slurring voice.

In an instant, any and all euphoria mulling about in your body is swept away as you come to your senses. The sounds from the party that still rages on outside filter through the open window, no longer muffled by your cross-faded state. 

Quickly, you’re rolling out from under Ellie, standing up so fast you almost give yourself a head rush. You’re pulling your underwear and pants back on as fast as you can, shoving your shoes on as you ignore Ellie who calls out to you to hang on a second, and the sounds of the door jostling against the frame. 

You need to get out of here as soon as possible. The weight you’re feeling in your chest right now is worse than when the door knob broke and you realized you’d be stuck in here with Ellie for god knows how long. Now, you don’t know how long it's been, but certainly long enough to have landed you in such a sticky situation you don’t know how you’ll recover from this lapse in your judgement. 

Ellie is still trying to get you to calm down when the door swings open on its hinges and in stumbles the drunkest frat boy you’ve ever seen.

“Ellie, what’re you doin’ in ‘ere?” He slurs, using the door to hold himself upright. Suddenly, his eyes light up, “You got any weed?”

She hesitates for a moment, before nodding, “Uh. . . yeah I’ve got some.” Ellie’s shrugging on her flannel and wiping at her mouth with the sleeve, looking between you and who you assume is Ryan. She looks like she wants to say something, brows furrowed deeply, but you don’t give her the chance as you’re squeezing past Ryan.

“Gotta go.” you call out over your shoulder. You hold onto the railing as you hurriedly make your way down the stairs, chest aching with an Ellie sized hole as you wonder what the fuck just happened.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Hello, can you help me out with this one? Somebody used to say that William and Catherine have very different approach in terms of navigating their public roles and working with the media, it's interesting because I can see it too. Can you shed somw light with this one?

I’ve talked about this here before, but I don’t remember when. Feel free to dig into the archives. I feel like searching for “quality over quantity” might pull up those earlier posts.

The main difference between the Waleses and the BRF in terms of navigating their public roles is best described as “quality over quantity.” They prefer to focus on the work supporting Royal Foundation initiatives (Earthshot, homelessness, Early Years, conservation) than doing bread-and-butter royal engagements of hospital ribbon-cuttings, factory openings, meet-and-greets, etc.

If you look at the Court Circular, then you’d see a traditional royal schedule of multiple engagements a day, sometimes up to four or five at a time. Like what Anne does now and Charles, as Prince of Wales, used to do. William and Kate aren’t doing that; they’re doing just one or two engagements a day, and spending a longer time at those engagements. (There’s a story about how Kate gave a keynote speech at a conference and everyone expected her to leave after, but she stayed for several hours, if not the whole conference.) The only times that William and Kate have packed schedules day-to-day that one might expect of a Royal (again, best embodied by Anne’s routine) is when they travel on a foreign visit to see the most and do the most.

The Waleses are also different in how they approach their work. The Waleses prefer to invest their resources in building local communities and local experts so that these projects become long-term or enduring and sustainable successes. Charles did this too, with his Prince’s Trust. This approach is different from the “quick wins” approach best embodied by the Sussexes; do it yourself to take the credit (or buy it and slap your name on it to take credit) and move on to the next project. This approach is all about the PR and investing in one’s self. (One of the books talks about this. I don’t remember which one anymore.)

In terms of media relations, you have to remember that everyone is measuring “William and Kate media friendliness” against the Charles-Diana-Camilla-Harry yardstick. William and Kate are more like Elizabeth and Philip when it comes to how they approach or handle the media - they’re very hands-off, truly adhere to “never complain, never explain”, and they don’t give personal interviews. Charles, Diana, Harry, and Camilla all give the media access to their private lives via interviews and close friendly relationships with members of the media.

The only times I can recall William or Kate personally engaging with or intervening in media coverage was with the topless photos in 2012 and the affair rumors on 2019.

Another way that the Waleses are different in their approach to media is their use of social media. They use their social media to release content about their family in a way that many of the other royals don’t, which bypasses the traditional media - and yes, they’re not happy at all with the Waleses’ choice to speak directly to the public via social media instead of going through the rota.

But they’re also different from each other in how they approach the media. Kate doesn’t speak at all to the press. The most she’ll talk to them is if a reporter catches her on a walkabout. She doesn’t leak to the press or have other people speak to the press for her. William does; he occasionally has a friend or a staffer give a quote to the media so he still does speak through the media sometime, though it’s never to the extent that Charles, Camilla, and the Sussexes do.

[mybrainproblems]

hello, i'm finales georg...

i don't want to further clutter up the notes on this post while responding to the tags below but the persistence of the "finale is short/scenes are missing/extra ad break” conspiracies drives me absolutely bananas when i've watched the finale ten times and have posted about this A LOT trying to clear things up. (disclaimer that yes, i'm a goddamn destiel shipper but i care about Facts above all.)

ok but this is weird because i'd swear the episode was shorter (11 missing scenes!) but okay. maybe we all mandela effected ourselves into #beleving that. because it felt shorter. but i will die on the hill that it had another ad break. i understand this person has the thing #recorded with ads so i am thinking maybe different ad breaks in different idk time zones??? #because the finale did air an hour earlier in canada so maybe idk i am reaching here but maybe different states or whatever had different #ad breaks??? as for the last minute changes - wasn't the cover band asked for permission to use their version of carry on like a week before #the thing aired??? so even if the episode was 42 minutes and had no additional ad break - which i am side eying but lets say all was normal #i will always say they were changing thing until the absolute last minute (carry on my wayward son X 2 #the crew on the bridge which is not only giant 4th wall breaking but also wow they really got all those people in one place in times of #covid???) #anyway. tinfoil hat stays on sorry guys :/ (via @officialmisha)

short and snarky: there are plenty of real and sourced examples of network homophobia and scripted/directed destiel scenes being cut to point to. we don’t need to make this stuff up just bc the finale wasn’t what we wanted. so it’s not the mandela effect — it’s ppl repeating a conspiracy/rumor bc it supports their narrative and it’s easier and more fun to repeat something that supports a narrative they already believe (misha or something destiel was cut) vs the boring act of fact checking.

longer circumspect answer with links bc like many ppl i am in my debunking era and i rewatched "roblox_oof" last night.

like i said. i've watched the finale ten times. i’ve gone over the episode with a fine toothed comb and posted a detailed breakdown of timing marks on my blog. it’s actually extremely obvious where the ad breaks are once you know roughly where to look for them (they have a longer fade to black instead of a quick cut scene change). there’s no room for extra ad breaks and i think this conspiracy/rumor persists in part bc the episode feels so sparse in terms of cast and the fact that the episode’s momentum hits a barn post (and rebar) less than 20min into an hour-long programming block.

also i’m begging ppl to actually look at that timing mark post. it’s very straightforward and i spent a lot of time on it. i don’t care if ppl plagiarize it at this point if it means this conspiracy stops. i've got almost every second accounted for.

the "eleven missing scenes" that you're thinking of are probably from the finale script of questionable authenticity that @spnscripthunt acquired back in 2021 which can be found here. it's dated as the “final draft” from 11 sep 2020 and filming on 15x20 wrapped on 10 sep 2020. as noted at the bottom of this superwiki page "[the] script came from someone claiming to have been the person who did the closed captions for the show in Russia. There are some indications that it possibly may not be authentic, but this has not been confirmed."

if we go with the possibility that this was a transcript meant for subtitles, the "omitted" scenes were probably written but never filmed since it's the "final draft" and not a color revision (blue, green, yellow, etc). unfortunately, i’ve lost track of where i read it and a preliminary duckduckgo search isn’t bringing it up bc there's a program for script writing called final draft, but iirc the “final draft” version of a script is a transcript of what was filmed (e.g. there are parts of that 15x20 script that ended up being deleted scenes on the DVD). spnscripthunt also has an example of a confirmed final draft for 09x02 (funnily enough, also a dabb-penned ep). if anyone can confirm with a source that i have the purpose of the “final draft” version designation wrong, please let me know! i love being proven wrong with Facts.

i do want to acknowledge that the two “final drafts” do look different from each other and the 15x20 one doesn't look like a “real” final draft script since it lacks the revision/versioning dates that a script would normally have on the cover page. it could be that it was intended for subtitles; there's the chance it's been re-typed to anonymize it if there was anything indicating who the "owner" was, tho that seems a wee bit cloak and dagger to me. and again: it's considered of questionable authenticity. there are some things that don't quite line up but oh dear god i don't want to get even further out into the weeds than i already am.

i won't disagree that it's weird as hell that neoni only got asked about using their cover seven days prior to the episode airing (tiktok here). my personal theory is that they were hoping to get a more expensive song (maybe a zepp song, idk) and didn't manage to secure the rights in the end. again: this is pure conjecture on my part! but i could absolutely see someone working on the show hearing neoni’s cover and liking it and then maybe they were using it as a placeholder until it got down to the wire and they had to make a call/send the ep to networks. because yes, it is baffling they played a song and then a cover of it with only a 40 second break between. (i do actually really like the neoni cover! the placement is just weird and i think it could have worked if they had the kansas version at the beginning and closed with neoni's full cover.)

as to the 4th wall break COVID stuff: robert singer talked with variety magazine about filming the last two episodes and the logistics of filming during a pandemic. whether they should have been filming during a pandemic is a separate discussion but their use of office vs set pods, strict quarantining and daily testing meant that they had zero positive tests in the month they were filming (18 aug to 10 sep). so given all that, i personally don’t think it’s totally out of pocket to have everyone standing outdoors on a bridge for maybe an hour to get a drone shot of them together. (i won’t get into incubation periods and viral load, but if everyone tested negative that day and every day for a month prior, it was a fairly low risk scene to film outdoors and for all we know everyone was masked until the last possible second. there were plenty of outdoor masked protests in 2020 that weren't superspreader events.)

and before anyone brings up “but misha was in vancouver!” i know someone who looked into it and they said no dice, nothing matched up between the backgrounds in those pics and places in vancouver. his statements about “us” going back to set over the summer were pretty generic in hindsight and “we”/"us" could be him or the spn crew generally. unfortunately i’m not able to find those tweets but the use of “we” was likely so as not to give away he wouldn’t be returning to set. (bc we were absolutely casbaited!) and bc it comes up a lot: the "onion field pic" was from when they were filming 15x17 and was not taken while filming 15x19 and 15x20.

besides, it would be ridiculous to go through the financial and logistical headaches of bringing someone into the country to film during a pandemic, only to cut their scenes in the end! honestly, the script is pretty tight when the scenes are given so much breathing room! the only thing i could see being further cut down is The Monologue and even then, i don’t think there was any intent to cut it down given it was filmed in fairly long takes.

i’ve said it many times before, but i believe the finale was fucked long before they returned to set. walker got the green light in sep 2019 and it was being marketed heavily as a “follow on” show to spn given jared’s involvement. the demo they were courting for walker has little to no overlap with the demo for destiel fans — why would they want a finale that catered to a demo they weren't interested in courting? we just went through a historic double strike that exposed so much of the rot of business interests overriding creative vision. this isn't completely unfounded conjecture.

i will not apologize for the length of this bc i wanted to be thorough, but i do want to give context that i think the reason these conspiracies and rumors grind my gears so much is because anyone can fact check all of this. the truth is out there and absolutely none of it is that hard to find. the most time consuming/difficult part of this was finding someone who had a DVR’d copy of the finale from when it aired live and they actually found me themselves after i’d been low key asking around for a year!

and like. i get it. conspiracies are fun. but there are so many sourced instances of network homophobia and destiel being cut that it's like. why is this something folks are hanging onto? the cw is notorious for having upper level meddling with finales bc there's a follow-on show they want to shuffle fans along to and spn is no exception.

[thedeathdeelers]

a quick silly drabble for @saltedsan based on this post

//

otter (on ao3)

“So, Sol-a,” Sunjae starts as he looks up from the script in his hands. “What do you think about dogs?”

Sol, who was snuggled into his side on the sofa, answers absent-mindedly with her eyes still glued to the TV.

“Dogs?”

Sunjae gently nudges her to get her full attention. “Yes, Dogs. A dog. A puppy.”

“Um,” she starts, before finally turning to look at him. “I..I’ve always liked dogs,” she says, “But my mom was allergic so we could never get one.” She pauses to think before resuming. “But I think I’ve always liked the idea of having a dog more than actually owning a dog, y’know?”

Sunjae stares at her for a moment, waiting to see if she realises her mistake.

But all Sol does is stare up at him expectantly, eyes wide and sweetly innocent.

“I think I’m probably more of a cat person anyway,” she adds, shrugging.

Huh.

continue reading on ao3

Sol grins at him when he doesn’t say anything back, before turning her attention back to the TV.

Sunjae sits quietly for a beat before trying again.

“So then what about Otter?”

Sol, who had already gotten fully immersed in her show again looks up at Sunjae, eyes slightly unfocused.

“Otter? Who’s otter?” she asks.

“You know,” Sunjae waves his hand in front of them before draping it back around her shoulder, tucking her back in under his arm. “Otter, your childhood dog.” Sol’s face doesn’t change, the layer of confusion still very much there.

“The one who loved swimming.”

Sol’s bottom lip twitches.

“The one you compared me to in high school.”

Sunjae can see the moment she remembers, memories flooding in as understanding dawns in her eyes even as she tries very hard to keep a straight face.

“O-o-of course he- he was real,” she finally stutters out, laughing a little too loudly as she tries to scoot away from him. “Why- why would you ask?”

Sunjae stares at her for a long moment, head tilting to the side as Sol squirms under his gaze, eyes looking at anything but him.

She was avoiding his eyes — she knew he knew.

“Sol.”

She doesn’t budge, eyes now fixed on the TV even though he knew she wasn’t registering anything happening on the screen.

“Sol-a,” he tries again, this time in a sing-song tone.

Still nothing — only her fingers nervously fiddling with the frayed edge of her sweater giving her away.

Sunjae smirks, knowing he’s got her.

He turns his body to face her, arms coming down to cage her in — wrapping one arm around her waist from the back while his other rests on her thighs.

He feels her jump slightly at his touch.

Leaning in closer so that they were at the same eye level, Sunjae waits until Sol crumbles under the pressure and turns to look at him, gulping nervously in the process.

“So let me get this straight,” he says, finger tapping against her thigh. “You had me think that I reminded you, the girl I was crazy for, of a dead fictional dog all throughout our last year of high school?”

Sol doesn’t react for a moment, until he sees the tiniest of nods.

“All because you’re terrible at thinking on the spot?”

Sol hesitates, mouth opening as if to defend herself, only to snap it shut at the dubious stare Sunjae was sending her way.

She nods again.

Sunjae doesn’t really know how to react — he’d always suspected she had come up with that story just to dodge any time travelling related information, but there was always a tiny part of young Sunjae that worried he was too ‘puppy-like’ for her to take him seriously.

Sunjae snorts at the thought, almost rolling his eyes at his young self.

They were both just as bad as the other.

He focuses his attention back on Sol, who was still staring at him wide-eyed.

“I swear it was- I only did it to- I wasn’t lying about being a fan!!” She finally gets out with a worried expression on her face as her eyes search his for a sign of..something.

Sunjae relents at the sight of her genuine worry, sighing dramatically as he pulls back.

“Sol, we really need to work on your acting,” he says, shaking his head.

“M-my acting? Why-“

“And we really should discuss your naming skills.”

“I-“

“But for now, we should probably think of a punishment.”

“A- a..a what?” she asks, eyes widening at his words.

Sunjae grins at her, leaning forward as she tries to move away from him, only to pounce on her the second her back hits the sofa cushion.

The first he hears are her giggles, his favourite sound in the world.

And then comes the pleading, his fingers digging into her sides as she breathlessly begs him to relent.

He loved that she was ticklish.

His torturing session doesn’t last long, as he soon takes pity on her, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead before sitting back up, pulling her along with him.

He watches her as she tries to catch her breath, her face glowing with rose-tinted cheeks.

Sunjae feels his heart constrict, still unable to believe she was truly his.

He waits until she’s calmed down, fanning herself in an attempt to cool down; waits until she turns around to scold him-

Before ducking back in towards her to give her a quick peck, successfully cutting her off.

“Sunjae-a!” She gets out, a half-hearted scowl on her face as she struggles to keep the smile off her face.

God, he loved her. Terrible acting and all.

Sunjae gets up from the sofa, leaving a confused Sol behind, only to turn around and scoop her up in his arms, the sounds of her surprised laugh filling up the apartment.

“What are you-“

But he doesn’t let her finish her sentence, cutting her off by pressing a kiss to her cheek.

With a wide grin stretching wider across his face by the second, Sunjae walks around the sofa and carries the love of his life towards their bedroom.

It only takes Sol a second to realise where he was taking her, slapping him once on the chest before giving in, her shy and scandalised giggles following them all the way to bed.

[novoaa1writes]

come, sit, stay

image source

pairing(s): softdark!natasha romanoff x gnc!reader

summary:

You have to resist the urge to shrink away when she lowers herself to a crouch. All at once, she’s close, too close, close enough that you could reach through the bars and touch her if you wanted. 

“Look at me, pup.”

You do. The expression on her face is neither malicious nor lustful; rather, devoid of emotionality. Utterly unreadable. 

No matter. Lost though you may be, you harbor no illusions about the vulnerability of your current state. She holds your leash; she has since she caught you. You know it, and she does, too. 

Or: You haven't the faintest clue what it's like to have an owner—much less someone like her.

contains: non-con dynamics, forced pet play, dehumanization

[cross-posted on ao3]

word count: ~1,400

rating: mature

warnings: non-con dynamics, forced pet play, dehumanization, referenced non-con body modification, referenced non-con medical experimentation/surgery, minor blood, power imbalance, light bondage (cage)

notes: continuation of/companion to a recent work! (link below) i’ve decided to rename the first work and file this under the series name “build-a-pet” ‘cause i mean. that’s kinda what’s happening here and all, ya dig

also, i’m not doing tag lists anymore (with the exception of the ongoing “find you again” series), because i suck at them. sorryyy

see end notes for translation of russian terms!

— —

previous part: day 0

— —

You awake to aching limbs, a dry throat, and curious smells. 

Consciousness comes gradually. A rare mercy, but the pounding in your skull tells you you’ve already slept far too long to bask in it. 

Prying open one eyelid, then two, you scan your surroundings with bleary eyes. You’re curled on your side, bare-ass naked, both knees folded to your chest inside… a rectangular cage. A quick glance finds its dimensions larger than you’re used to, with ample room to sit up and crawl on all fours. The bars are thinner, too, but you’ve no doubt they’re quite secure; and the door…

The door. Panic grips you. 

It’s open. No lock in sight. 

What kind of cage doesn’t lock?

Where the hell are you?

You’re quick to rise to all fours as your search turns frantic, adrenaline and fear eclipsing all tearing aches from inactivity and injury until it’s all you can do to keep from vibrating with the force of it. Your heartbeat thuds double-time in your chest, wide-eyed gaze darting this way and that. 

You don’t see much—tall ceilings, a well-lit fireplace, twin lounge chairs complete with matching ottomans—before a pair of startling green eyes meet your own, effectively nailing you to the spot. 

Natasha leans casually against the nearby wall wearing a lazy smirk that broadens when your gaze catches hers. She hasn’t changed since last you saw her; donning black jeans, a wife beater, and a well-worn leather jacket. Scarlet-red hair is pulled back and woven into twin braids that tickle her shoulders. Her face is devoid of makeup, though it does nothing to dull her beauty. 

She could have been there for hours or minutes; you’ve no way of telling. 

As you watch, she cocks a single, well-manicured brow. 

At that, you realize you’re staring. Cheeks burning, you hasten to lower your gaze to the floor.

“Finally awake, then,” she rumbles in a low, contralto drawl. It’s not a question. “How’d you sleep?”

Her voice comes from much closer, this time, causing you to flinch like you’ve been struck. 

If you strain your downcast gaze, you can just glimpse the scuffed toes of her boots in your periphery. Christ. You hadn’t even heard her move. 

“Okay, thank you,” you murmur politely. The words feel like gravel in your throat. 

Whatever Stark did to you, it’s made speaking a nuisance. It scrapes your throat, burns your lungs. It feels unnatural, period. Who wants a talking pet, anyhow? 

You have to resist the urge to shrink away when she lowers herself to a crouch. All at once, she’s close, too close, close enough that you could reach through the bars and touch her if you wanted. 

“Look at me, pup.”

You do. The expression on her face is neither malicious nor lustful; rather, devoid of emotionality. Utterly unreadable. 

No matter. 

Lost though you may be, you harbor no illusions about the vulnerability of your current state. She holds your leash; she has since she caught you. You know it, and she does, too. 

“Does it hurt to talk?”

Your cheeks burn. Biting your lip hard, you nod. 

Natasha nods, as though this answer pleases her. “Are you in any pain?”

That gives you pause. Of course you’re in pain. Is this a trick?

The tick in her jaw suggests she’s displeased by your reticence. Slowly, carefully, you chance another nod. 

“Can you crawl?”

You almost huff, but think better of it at the last second. You nod once more.

Her lips twitch. With amusement or satisfaction, you can’t tell. “Молодец,” she murmurs, rising to her feet and turning on her heel. She does not spare a backwards glance as she strides over to the crackling fireplace, then settles into a cross-legged position in the center of the rug, her back to you. “Ко мне,” she calls, little more than an afterthought. 

Regardless, the effect is the same.

You shoot up on all fours with a speed that makes you wince, biting your lip hard to smother the pained whimper that follows. It’s a reflex, a mistake. You should know better, but realization doesn’t hit until it’s too late, until small fangs have broken skin, and it’s all you can do to bite back a hiss. You don’t need a mirror to know you’re bleeding. 

Your lapse costs you. You spring forth perhaps a bit too hastily, trading the padded floor of the crate for gleaming marble. Pain traverses your veins like wildfire. 

Your knees smart as you clamber over, fingertips curled beneath knuckles in that paw-esque fashion that now comes as naturally to you as breathing. Stark and his stupid, infernal experiments. 

Blood, warm and wet, wells up along your lower lip. Reflexively, your tongue flicks out to lap it up. The metallic taste is a comfort, however fleeting. 

You couldn’t sneak up on her if you tried, but you don’t dare expect that to mean she’d permit being approached from behind. Circling ‘round, you give her a wide berth. The heat of the fire sears your skin, yet the carpet lining proves a welcome comfort. As you reach Natasha, the acuity of sensation fades and you slow to a wary crawl, uncertainty thumping in your chest. 

You imagine her gaze boring into you—through you. Blood stains your lips anew, its coppery scent tickling your nostrils. 

“Ближе,” she murmurs. You don’t understand this one, and she must know it, for she’s quick to translate: “Closer.”

Dutifully, you shuffle forth until your knuckles graze her folded legs.

“Сидеть.”

This one, evidently, you know. 

You fall back on your heels at once, muscles deflating in a dizzying rush. Gnarled hands pull themselves into your lap, and your chin dips lower toward your chest—a show of deference.

When her fingers brush your jaw, you don’t dare flinch back. You hold still, perfectly still as they travel down and forth, coming to rest beneath your chin. When they urge you up, you go without protest, tilting your jaw up until you have to strain to keep your own kneecaps in sight. At this angle, you could look her in the eye if you dared. 

You’re not that dumb. 

“Глаза,” she murmurs. “Eyes.”

You oblige. 

Her gaze burns where it meets yours. 

You clench your jaw and bear it. 

It’s a relief when it flickers down to your lips… and stays there. 

“You’re bleeding,” she observes, sounding perhaps awed, or engrossed, or something else entirely. Her eyes are darker now, no longer such a lurid jade-green hue. A trick of the light, perhaps? 

You swallow. 

Gently, deliberately, she swipes at pooling copper with the pad of her thumb. 

The slight touch sends a shudder down your spine, but you pay it little mind. Seconds later, the warmth of her touch leaves your chin; you hardly notice that, either. 

You’re possessed, spellbound as she brings her thumb to parted lips, engulfs the tip and then some—suckles at the taste of you with slightly hollowed-out cheeks and a groan that cleaves to the marrow of your bones. 

Your thighs tremble, making you clench in an effort to hold still. 

She eyes you with interest when she’s finished, thumb pressed idly against pouted lips. “Sweet,” she hums. 

Were your complexion about three shades lighter, you’d be blushing pink to the roots of your hair. As it is, you can’t help wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole. 

Her next command takes you by surprise. “Лежать.” Lie down. 

You hate the disappointment that blooms in your chest even as your body does not hesitate to follow. You’re in position before you understand what’s happened, all curled up and ball-shaped on the rug like a housecat settling in for an afternoon nap. 

It’s as though a switch has been flipped.

Fatigue follows fast on its heels, dousing you like a tidal wave. Is it conditioning, or is it you? 

Is there a difference? 

It’s humiliating. It’s wonderful. Your limbs assume the position like they’re made for it. You suppose, now, they kind of are.

The crackling fire is warm along your back. You almost preen when a familiar touch parts bedraggled strands of hair, blunt nails grazing along your scalp in a soothing rhythm. The rumbling purr that follows is no surprise. Sleep tugs at you, and you are tired of fighting it. You’re tired, period. 

“Sleep, котёнок. I’m here.”

It’s the last thing you hear before unconsciousness swallows you whole. 

— —

end notes: right so.... me when there’s.... right. yes. you all understand, i’m sure... .....

no idea if i wanna continue this (like ideally, yes, but as always, i’m pressed for time, so this is what i’ve got right now), but uhhhh yeah. lemme know what you think?

translation for russian terms (stresses marked in bold):

молодец | molodyets | excellent, good

ко мне | ko mnye | “come” (to me)

ближе | blizhe | comparative degree of близко (adverb) and близкий (adjective) meaning “closer”

сидеть | sidyet’ | infinitive form of the verb “to sit.” used when telling a pet (a dog, specifically) to sit

глаза | glaza | eyes (nominative plural form)

лежать | lyezhat’ | infinitive form of the verb “to lie (down).” used when telling a pet (read: dog) to lie down

котёнок | kotyonok | kitten

— —

link to masterlist

[trohpi]

@regulily-microfic • july 22: anger • 901 words

cross-posted to ao3

Lily has known anger her whole life. She has known it from her first breath, passed from mother to daughter like root rot, a blazing fire in her veins incapable of extinguishment. A genetic curse.

The thing about anger is it lingers, never truly leaving once it’s embedded itself into the cracks. All it takes is just one word, one moment, for the flames to ignite within.

Wand at Regulus’ throat, hands trembling with the force of her fury, Lily is reminded of this. For once, it feels less like a curse and more like a blessing.

Her eyes are sharp daggers raking across the black-haired boy on her doorstep. He looks different than he did when they last spoke over a year ago, before this war shattered what had already been fracturing between them for years. There’s something sharper about him, something bitter. His hair is longer now, Lily can’t help but notice, and that light smattering of freckles she used to trace along the bridge of his nose has vanished from a lack of sun.

Regulus is pale and wandless, arms hanging limply by his sides as he stares at her with glistening grey eyes, unfazed by the willow jabbing into the underside of his jaw. He looks unafraid. No, forget that, he looks terrified, but not of her. No, never of her.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice is hostile and flat, not a question but a demand.

“I’m not sure,” Regulus replies, quiet and guarded. “Something incredibly stupid, maybe.”

“Yes, showing up here was incredibly stupid,” Lily says immediately. “Leave. Now.”

“Lily—”

“Get the fuck out,” she snaps, shaking. “What did you expect to happen? Did you think I’d invite you in for a spot of tea? You got bored playing Death Eater with Sev and thought I’d welcome you with open arms, is that it?”

“I’m here because I’m scared,” Regulus admits stiffly. “And because this is important, and I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone— more than I trust myself.”

Lily falters, gaze searching achingly familiar features. There’s a little flash of emotion behind startlingly cold eyes, so quick she might have missed it had she not once known Regulus like the back of her hand, and her breath catches. Swallowing thickly, the tip of her wand dips just slightly. Regulus notices, he always notices.

“Just five minutes,” he urges lowly. “Five minutes and you can go back to wishing I never existed. I promise.”

Lily is frozen. For just a moment, she can pretend that the person before her is still her Regulus. The one who wormed his way into Severus and Lily’s friend group as a tiny sneering first year. The one who always knew how to calm the curse in Lily’s veins, icy stubbornness dousing fiery anger. The one who held Lily together after her sister left, promising he wouldn’t leave her, would never leave her.

But this Regulus is the one who broke that promise, who tore her to shreds alongside her oldest friend. Lily feels it deep in her bones, a gaping hole filled with betrayal and longing and anger, emotions so entangled she can’t tell which is which. Maybe it’s all the same, maybe it always has been. Maybe love and rage burn the same shade of red, and Lily’s been too blind to see.

She takes a breath. “Five minutes, then you leave.”

“I swear it,” Regulus says, and she lowers her wand.

Lily whips around and starts towards the kitchen, not bothering to check if Regulus comes along. Behind her, she hears the door shut with a quiet snick. The atmosphere is tense, flat deathly quiet, and Lily’s hands shake. She rips open a cabinet and pulls out a bottle of Firewhiskey, pouring herself a drink and downing it almost as quickly as it appeared. She winces and sets the glass down, clinking against the granite countertop. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself before finally looking up, green eyes meeting grey.

“Well?” she starts. “You’ve got about four minutes and thirty seconds. What’s so important?”

Regulus eyes dart over to the empty glass before he clears his throat and looks back to her. His eyes are sharp and grave, imploring her to listen. Lily knows then that he’s serious, deadly so.

“I’ve found something. Something big.”

Lily straightens slightly, suddenly feeling a bit sick. “How big?”

“Bigger than the war, bigger than all of us.”

A shiver runs down Lily’s spine. She leans forward, palms flat against the counter, closing a bit of space between them. “What is it? What did you find?”

The two of them stare at each other, both stubborn to their cores and refusing to break eye contact, and the thing is— Lily knows. She knows that this is it. Once he tells her, there’s no backing out. There’ll be no ignoring, no pretending the other doesn’t exist. They’ll be in this, together, for better or worse. Staring into steely eyes, she finds that she doesn’t mind. After all, Lily’s always up for a challenge.

A muscle in Regulus’ jaw jumps and he breaks, looking away. He nods like he was expecting nothing less, like he also used to know Lily like the back of his hand— like he still knows her, will always know her.

A beat, maybe two, then he speaks.

“Have you ever heard of Horcruxes?”

[hippotooth]

What is your character the Patron Saint of?

Take this quiz as your OC and find out what they would be the patron saint of!

Tagged by @chronurgy , thank you!!! This quiz was fun and I did not expect the result at all, very cool experience.

I did this for my dark urge, Tua.

I did not expect this result at all, but it was interesting and oddly cutting- had Tua actually been the one taking the quiz she would have been so offended by this result lol.

All Tua has ever wanted was acceptance and affection - yet these simple needs have been denied to her at almost every turn. She found it only once before, with Enver Gortash, first as devoted childhood friends and later as lovers - but he has been ripped from her repeatedly. She is constantly searching for a source of security and love. She’s self conscious about her social skills and desperate to try and make people like her.

So, to be the called out as a shell whose trappings may change but, no matter how much they change, lacks any true warmth or security - would be heartbreaking to her.

Tagging: @unkledeath @i-have-dots-in-my-brain @trustworthy-liar @mj-bites @bngobongobb

I feel like I’ve already seen most my mutuals do this? I always worry I’m spam tagging people lol, if you haven’t done this yet and see this post please do the quiz! It’s fun! Tag me too so I can get to know your tavs/durges more 😊

[cupidssorbet]

“You really haven’t changed have you?”

Childhood friend Anakin x Reader!

Summary: Being friends since childhood has its benefits, you get to see the person you care about grow up..in more ways than one.

Includes: Fluff, Flirting/Teasing back and fourth, Friends to lovers, Smut, Reader gets caught, Fingering, Masturbation,Oral (M receiving), P in V, Hair pulling, Perv Anakin if you squint.

★Please read! ★ This obviously contains smut so you are reading at your own volition, I will put where it starts to get smutty! I hope it’s good I’ve never done one this long, Also just know that now every Wednesday I will post writings!

Enjoy cherubs! P.s: Italics in the beginning are for the past! But I’ll still make it clear

Made by Cupid.

“Ani!” You called out, looking about the messy room, that padawan really could get on your nerves. Obi-wan had asked you to fetch him and he was nowhere to be found.

You continued your what felt fruitless search looking for that boy. “Anakin come on! We have got to get going! Quit day dreaming about girls and come out here!” Sighing loudly and running your hands over your face before a chuckle brought you back.

Whipping your head around there he was all dressed and ready to go, “What’s taking you so long huh (Nickname)?” He had that shit eating grin on his face, keeping it even as he laughed at you hitting his shoulder.

“One of these days I’m not coming to get you!” You shouted back at him walking away, huffing and puffing as he chased after you laughing.

✩ Present day ✩

Overtime you and Anakin had grown busier with your own goals. Hanging out when you could because you two couldn’t ever be separated even if you really tried. Usually you two would find yourselves watching the stars together just for the hell of it, it was still time to hang out so you’d take it because then if you didn’t you’d miss it.

What you wouldn’t miss was going to find him because he was late, however the tables turned as you got older. You began to become late, focusing on if your uniform looked good on you, if your hair was okay. Stuff that when you were younger seemed minuscule to you but now it wasn’t so minuscule.

And sometimes it wasn’t even those things that had you all tangled up, it was more or less day dreams about Anakin. Some innocent ones that just made your heart flutter and had you sighing. Others that were not so innocent, those were ones that had your heart racing, your breathing uneven and you fingers tapping against the nearest thing.

You really didn’t understand why you were feeling this way about the boy you’d watch become a man, your best friend. But you couldn’t disagree on the fact that he’d become absolutely handsome. His long hair that hung around his face just right, his charming eyes, and even more charming personality. But you were getting ahead of yourself for all you knew he could still just see you as a friend.

Patting your face trying to get back into the right headspace, you headed out to meet up with Obi-wan, he wanted to go over a few things, albeit most likely missions of some kind so you did your best to walk with quick strides. Finally making it the room, “Apologies Master Obi-wan, I was a bit caught up I-“ “Nice of you to join us (nickname),” a voice called out, you could feel the smugness in it.

Your cheeks felt hot and you prayed that it wasn’t noticeable, “Ah, Glad you made it, Anakin asked if he could join us. I hope that’s okay?” Obi-Wan looked up from the notes in-front of him. “Perfectly fine.” You said quickly taking a seat, your fingers tapping the table. “So, To start off..” after those words your mind just trailed off your eyes occasionally gazing over to anakin who’d be looking right back at you making you look away and back to Obi-wan.

To be frank he’d notice you change as well, not just on your looks, but in your personality, and ya know maybe in your body too. Just maybe. You honestly couldn’t focus with his boring into you, your heart felt like it’d burst from your chest even when he gave you a sly wink. “(Name)?” Obi called out a bit of a worried expression on his face. “Hm? Yes?” You quickly looked at him, “You feeling alright? You’re a bit pale in the face.” He motioned, “Maybe you need some rest, I wouldn’t want you to feel ill on these missions.” Shuffling all the papers back into their piles quickly he looked to you giving you the ok to leave.

“But Obi-Wan I feel fine I-“ he shook his head, “I am not willing to compromise your well being or this mission, please just go back to your room. I’ll send Anakin to check on you.” He raised his hand and you got up and headed out. You couldn’t get rid of anakins eyes on you, you could feel it even as you left. It made you flustered, even as you got into your room closing the door behind you, you felt hot. Closing your curtains, undoing your uniform.

You thought maybe a cold shower would help but it still couldn’t get rid of the feeling you felt. Even as you sat on your bed towel wrapped around your body. An uneven series of breathes making your chest rise and fall.

✩ Smut starts here! You’ve been warned! ✩

You laid back into the plush pillows, your hair sticking your body. Your hands trailed down to your wet cunt, yours eyes fluttering open and closed and your breath speeding up. “God..” you muttered, slowly pushing one finger in then two. Pumping in and out, your mind imagining that it was something else, or rather someone else.

You bit your lip choking back a moan that just came out a breathless whimper, whining almost. Your free hand resting on your chest as you continued to pump in out of your dripping pussy. So devolved in your thoughts, in the moment that you failed to hear the knock and the concerned voice of Anakin.

When he heard the whine he thought you’d gotten worse so he came in as quietly as possible as to not startle you. When he got around to your bed he’d stop in his tracks. The sight of you stuffing your cunt with your fingers, your eyes shut and your chest rising and falling rapidly.

To say it didn’t affect him would be an absolute lie, it had an effect. His pants began to tighten, and he swallowed thickly. His heart felt like it was in his throat. Watching as you kept going, whining and gasping. Then..”Ah..Ah Anakin.” You moaned out, your head leaning back. He sucked in air in almost a kiss, his hand going to the tent in his trousers. He felt dirty, very dirty.

Then he couldn’t help but tease you, moving his hand away letting out a cough like he was clearing his throat. Your eyes shot open but you just couldn’t stop. He was watching you, but for how long? Did he hear you call his name? He must have noticed the expression on your face and chuckled. “I saw, heard, it all.”

Your cheeks were red hot as he walked over, removing your hands from where the where and putting them in his mouth. His tongue lapping up the juices on your fingers. You couldn’t believe what was happening, you really couldn’t.

He groaned, removing your fingers from his mouth before his hand found your chin leaning in and kissing you. A mix of yourself on your tongue, almost smiling into the kiss. Pulling back for air, you looked at him then your eyes trailed over his body noticing the bulge in his pants.

You reached out palming him through his pants and he bucked forward inhaling harshly. *”Please..”* he whined. You smiles coyly at Anakin’s demeanor. You sat up, tugging his pants down as he hurriedly removed his tunic and whatever else could possibly get in the way of something he dreamed of for ages.

Taking his cock in your hand pumping it slowly giving the tip soft kisses and licks. Earning heavy breathes from him as he leaned his head back,hands finding you hair. “Sweet maker you’re a tease..” he chuckled almost, then he groaned as your pushed him into your mouth. Not even stopping when you’d gag, trying to relax your throat. Bobbing your head enjoying the sounds you go from him even as tears pricked your eyes.

You continued to move back and fourth, popping off and licking up and down every now and again. When inhaled sharply stopping you, making you come off his dick. “What was that for?” With a squeal he was above you, “I want to be inside you..please?” His hair hung loosely above you, and you just nodded. “Words.” He said or more ordered.

“Please, please anakin.” You begged to him and couldn’t help but smirk. Leaning down and giving you a kiss, before lining himself up and carefully pushing in, making you gasp. Your hands going to cover your mouth, he reached his hand up to pull yours down. Planting a kiss on the back of your hand. “No no..Move your hand I want to hear all those noises.”

He began to move at a soft pace carefully going in and out, planting kisses all over your neck. “Faster Ani..” you panted out your arms draping over his back. “Whatever you say.” Then his pace got quicker and faster, and rougher. Having you whining and becoming a moaning mess beneath him.

Your mind was like mush, he couldn’t help but smile into your skin as he kissed and nipped. You began to feel a familiar knot in your stomach, “Anakin, I’m..” You cried out as he sped up. His hand snaking down and finding your clit rubbing circles gently adding more to that feeling.

“Go ahead let go,” Then it snapped and your walls convulsed around him, your nails dug into his back. He leaned down to kiss you, speeding up more, as the haze of your post orgasm settled. Sensitive he kept going until he reached his end, his cum coating your insides. He laid ontop of you and you groaned, earning a chuckle from him.

“Alright, c’mon up, let’s get a bath going.” He pulled out and got up off you scooping you into his arms and taking you to the bathroom. Running a hot bath for you, allowing you to relax and then got into bed with you.

“I love you anakin,”

“Love you too (nickname).”

[shoutascoffeepot]

Chapter four: Dawn of Judgment.

The Art of Deception: The Deadly Dance - Series

Pairing: Aizawa Shouta x Female Original Character

Themes: Mafia, psychological, gore, age gap, cultural differences.

!!!Trigger Warnings!!!: Age gap, sexual visualizations of a minor (she's almost 18), swearing, gun usage, deep talk, kidapping, controlling, smoking, drugs, graphic depictions of gore, blood, torture, dead dove do not eat.

Notes: I'm sorry I keep disappearing, I'm busy IRL even though I am almost done writing chapter 10. There are more posted chapters on my ao3 account, the series name is the same if you'd like to search it up there.

Warning: Names, places and events that happen are all fictional. Any overlapping on real life people, places or events is purely coincidental.

Also, this chapter contains unfiltered criminal and psychological behavior, please be mindful whilst reading the trigger warning list and expect the worse before proceeding. Read at your own discretion. Your mental health matters <3

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Lilith

  My hand was shaking, a roll of goosebumps ravishing my entire body and a rush of cold washed over me. Impulse was both my strength and weakness. When I would be over what particular thing I’ve done, this ice cold settles in and I’m not sure I was the fondest of it. 

  Eraser dragged us all out and per my request, he made sure Chisaki was with us yet in a different car. Eraser hasn’t said a word to me, but I read him well. Fuck I read him too well. Eraserhead may want to appear to be the most unreadable, disheartening, boss. I saw resolve, doubt, he kept quiet to think the silence was loud enough. 

  Eraser was in fact, speechless. 

  I scoffed with half a smile on my face, then my headache hit again. Did he take my vape? It has been a long time since I smoked. I preferred not to. 

  His eyes bored into my soul. My eyes met with his tired ones, he pulled yet another fat cigarette and lit it up, a puff of smoke left his lips as it glowed, glancing away out the window. Contemplating. This air around him was like electricity to me. And the memory of this morning flooded my head. Him breathing over my face, a breath rich of tobacco and coffee mixed in with his earthy spicy cologne. 

  I leaned to tower over his side. “Sumanai.”  I spoke before picking his cig and taking a hit, too heavy. It went right to my head, the ache washed away with dizziness. I shouldn’t have taken such a big breath. 

  And the car went over a speed bump. 

  I rumbled and lost balance. Yet Eraser was quick to catch his cig from my hand and press me plush against him with his free hand. 

“So much for a big girl’s puff.” His deep voice called and I dare not look at him. I can already feel the bass of his voice in my core. I could hear him take another breath and smell it as he exhaled. My hands on his chest, I pushed myself up but he grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled. 

  I gasped, looking at him with my cleavage and neck exposed. 

“Sorry for ruining the deal, don. And sorry for ruining this dress.”  I blurted, I could feel his eyes restraining from looking down at me and clinging onto my eyes. 

“Sorry for staining your suit too.” I brought my fingers to my mouth, teeth latched on the lacy fabric and pulled my black glove off. It was my right hand. Nails painted red and fingertips stained red too. He bit his lower lip and loosened his grip. 

“Black suits you.” 

“I know it does.” I responded to his comment and leaned back to my seat, closing my eyes. “My job is done. You have to let me go.” I announced, unwilling of it. 

“You’re not planning to have me dead?” 

“My job was to keep you alive during the deal.”

“How did you–?” 

“I have my ways. Now just like how fast you took my things. You shall return them.” 

“Who are you–?” 

“It’s not important now.” We reached his place and I got off, gazing over my shoulder as he followed. “I can be whatever you want me to. I am Lilith, your savior.” I smirked and he let out a chuckle. 

  Deep, vibrating chuckle. 

  I almost felt it in my core. 

  Fuck. 

  My chest.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked and I looked at him, zoning back in. 

“Nothing. Why?” 

“You dropped your smile for a second there.” 

  I grinned. “It was fun while it lasted.” 

“Even though there was nothing to–” We both spoke.  

“Last.” I breathed. 

“Last?” He questioned

What the fuck is this tension? 

“Jinx.” The muscle in his cheek flexed as he said that. I enjoyed how he looked doing that. 

“The girl.” Clearing my throat, I started. “Who’s taking care of her? I’m not legal yet.” 

“You’re not?” He seemed surprised. 

“October.” I chimed as we strolled inside. My gloved hand holding both my one heel that I was wearing and the other glove as I walked barefoot. 

“I see. An innocent girl shouldn’t live under danger.” 

“Right. Your mansion is both safe and dangerous. And I don’t suppose I’m quite the right person to take care of her.” I mentioned right when we reached my wing and the men were already inside, packing for me. When did he order them?  I went inside and gestured Shouta to follow as I went to the closet

  I picked out a bra and a pair of panties, both in fushia, alongside black cargo pants and a full sleeved black top. 

“I will have you an SUV to drive you home.” He mentioned. 

  Humming in agreement, I rolled the idea of having a kid around. I suppose it wouldn’t be too bad. I might force myself to fix my sleep. It would be.. More of an antidote. 

“Do you think keeping her with me is safe?” My eyes trailed to his face. He had the lightest of flushes with the clothes in my arm, he looked tired, eyebags growing. 

“Yes.” He didn’t hesitate. 

“Even when I disagree with Chisaki, I wouldn’t be too sure one of his men won’t free him and kidnap her.” He added. 

“Speaking of.. Let me go pay him a visit, no?” I put down my clothes on the marble counter in the bathroom and came back out, putting my glove back on and leaving the heel behind. 

“Let’s drain some answers out.” I could feel the curtain draping over me again. The urge to kill. The urge to see all the pride flush away from their faces with the knock of death. 

  He led me to a spacious basement. It was undecorated. The ceiling was cement with white light bulbs hanging fairly lower than the average. The walls and floors were glazed cobblestone. Smart. Cement wouldn’t be easy to clean. The only thing separating the staircase corridor from the big room was bars. 

  Hell.

  I could hear the echoes of Eraser’s dress shoes when we walked. The room had random chairs, chains and a plastic table atop all tools used near the right wall. Unlike everything else, the tools –once I drew the knife out of its pocket– were so shiny I could see my reflection in them. I plucked one of the hairs from my own head and tried slicing it in half. The edge of the blade glided smoothly on the follicle. 

  Another set of feet walked into the basement and wails of pain alongside screeches of Chisaki’s shoes as he was forced by two men. I watched them as they chained him onto the chair. His left eye socket was empty and my heel was still in his thigh. 

“Go ahead and kill me already.” He grumbled. 

“Not until I get my answers.” I flipped the knife in my hand, gripping the handle then bringing the blade to my palm, gliding it open until crimson bloomed. I could hear the fighting and gruntles of the other men that worked for Chisaki as Eraser’s agents chained them up too. 

“Lilith–” Eraser called to my injury but I paid no attention. 

“Sh..” I put down the knife and brought my bloody finger to my lips. “You will watch, better enjoy the show.” 

  I went to the first man, recognizing him as the one who defied me. “Say, I know the people in the room know the information I need. Where is your so-called product stored?”

  My voice was soft, dreamy even as I sucked on my teeth, observing the man before me. He glanced behind me, at Chisaki. I held his face with one hand and jerked it back to meet my eyes. “You’re at my mercy.” I leaned in, inch away.  “Do not forget that and answer.” 

He quivered as I leaned away. 

“DON’T YOU DARE–” 

“I WILL GIVE EACH OF YOU SLOW PAINFUL DEATHS. DECAPITATE YOU THEN SHIP YOUR HEADS TO YOUR FAMILIES BEFORE HUNTING AND KILLING EACH ONE OF YOUR BLOODLINE.” I screamed, cutting off Chisaki’s attempt. 

“You better start talking.” I turned back to the man, beaming.

“N-No.. Please-” 

I sighed and turned back to Sho– Eraser. Eraser. “Can we get a torch lighter? I want to heat up the tools.” 

  He crooked up a brow. “Yes.” He leaned back and his man beside him went stumbling up the stairs and briefly came back as I scanned the pliers. I handed him the knife from before. “Make it red.” 

  I grabbed the plier and grabbed the guy's hand, he struggled of course but I managed to get it between my thick thighs and pulled on the nail with the tool. His guttural scream echoed through the walls of the room as blood oozed from the raw nail bed. 

“If you get a deep wound I will scorch you. So you stay alive for days, weeks, watching as I butcher you and your comrades.” I threatened.

“Look at your former leader, one silly move and he lost an eye and a functional femoral artery. He’s only awake because my pretty little SHOE is stopping him from bleeding out.” I loomed before pulling on his hair and forcing him to stumble forward, two meters away from Chisaki and forced to stare at him, sniffling like a goddamn child. 

  I waited patiently, by the sound of how his sobs got deeper I knew he’s guilty because he’s gonna fess up. 

“Sorry boss…” 

  Bingo.

“There’s a bar near the starbucks that’s by some famous spa center in Sapporo district–” 

“AHO DA-” Chisaki screamed. 

“SHUT THE FUCK UP.” I let go of the guy and went up to Chisaki. Grabbing his finger with the pliers I twisted the bone of his knuckle off and stuffed it into his throat. 

“Keep going. I’ll make sure your body reaches your family.” I stood over the guy again. 

“You need to have a password to be let into the secret passage… Only Chisaki knows it.”

“Anything else I should know of?” I clicked my tongue. 

“It connects all of the cities and towns together, very convenient for traveling and hiding.” He sighed. 

“Good boy.” I patted his head. “You’ll die an honorable death, I give you my blessing to go to hell.” 

I moved away and eyes met with Shinsou who was taken aback. Where did Sho– Eraser go? 

“Get a bullet in this man’s head.” I cleared my throat and Shinsou went ahead and put the gun to the side of his head. With the gunshot the brains splattered onto the others faces. I went ahead and took the red knife from the man who’s been heating it up. Then proceeded to brand Chisakis' knuckle so he’d stop losing blood. 

“Get him a doctor for his thigh.” I mumbled before leaving the cell and heading upstairs. Where the fuck did he go? Whatever, it was none of my business now. 

  I went back to my room and turned on the shower, red footprints left of my trail on the creme tiles. Stripping down and letting the almost scorching water engulf me in warmth.  

  That unpredictable piece of work. Who the fuck kidnaps a random off the floors of the club? My chest ached; did he often do that? Kidnap, mesmerize his subject then use them before killing for fun? My visit to Japan didn’t revolve around him, in fact I was going to abandon that idea since it was undoable. 

  Yet the idea of leaving didn’t fail to make my chest feel hollow. This crazy obsession over one man had to come to an end. Stalking him for two years is enough, I’ve come to Japan, that’s as close as I can be. He’s way older and seemed like the drugs, one-fuck and go type. I hated that, so disappointing. I knew he was like that in his early years but the image of him leaving those behind as he turned thirty was a theory I managed to convince myself only. 

  That’s what I get. For fabricating a version of him that never existed. 

  When I got out of the shower I clipped on the bra, slipped into the panties, got dressed in the cargo pants and pulled my top over my head. I feel dumb, so dumb. All of these stupid men are the same, wanting a hole to fuck. It’s not like I’m the easiest to love anyways, my arms and legs were full of scars, they like to think they’re shawarmas. 

  I dried my hair and it immediately fluffed up. Then I wore my favorite pair of trekking boots.  I already miss the shower. Is that going to be the only place I feel warm? My eyes burned. 

  Why am I such a sensitive bitch?

  Leaving the bathroom, one of the Aizawa’s men stood there. “Your car is ready, Ojo-Sama.” 

“Arigato gozaimasu.” I left and made my way through to the gate, looking around, this little piece of heaven will go to some other woman, or man, whatever it is. 

  It is what it is. 

  I then locked eyes with Aizawa and he pulled me into his office, pinned me to the wall and locked the door. He seemed distraught. And I was caught off guard, my heart pounding as I observed his suave features. 

“Your name..” He panted, his face was so close. Moreso the reason I lightly rolled my eyes. 

“My name, what about it?” I closed my eyes, perhaps I can relish this moment a little. I can feel his breath on my cheek.. The heat of it gathered in my chest, and other places. 

“Noor. The light of death or dawn of judgem–” 

“Don’t.” I glared at him and pushed him away. The blood in my veins went cold. 

“I was never paid to kill anyone, I was paid to get answers. The fuckers just die because they make themselves suffer too much. And this stupid thing–” Tears rolled out my eyes, it feels like everything I’ve worked to do had come with no avail. 

“Me coming here. Protecting your fucking ass, was not a job. No one told me to do shit. I wasn’t even gonna do it because it seemed impossible to intrude. You kidnapped me and made it possible. You being alive right now is a mere fucking coincidence and I wish it hadn’t happened!” I yelled at him as he stood unfazed yet gulping this shit down. 

“Only for you to be so-” I gestured with my hands. “Charming.” I gritted. 

“Fuck. You.” I unlocked the door and left, sniffling. 

Shouta. 

  What?

  I still didn’t process one thing she uttered at me. Does that mean she knew me beforehand? Was she stalking me? How did she even know of me when barely the Japanese know of me? Also.. I was charming? That surely did bring a smile to curve at my lips but why does it upset her?

  Running my hands through my hair, I slumped onto my desk chair and called for Shinsou. The odds of this whole ordeal were slimmer than the chance of finding a needle in a mountain of hay. My attraction to her was merely infatuation and shall pass by. I ordered him to install cameras in Noor’s apartment as I skimmed through the file of information I made my men gather that rested on my table. 

  Her apartment wasn’t even under her name, it was under someone called Yin. How fucking clever. Not registering it under a family member’s name. I had access to cameras that are tiny, they don’t glow red, like a speck of dust. They should run unnoticeable. I saw the next document, it was her application for university under her real name. A copy of her IELTS, seven and a half? Impressive. 

  There was a copy of her passport. Fuck, she looked put together and… Beautiful. Looking right through the camera wasn’t she? With that sly smirk. She was Arabic after all, not european. My instincts were once again proven right. 

  Shit, I shouldn’t be wasting time running a background check. Nor installing cameras. Fuck it, I’m installing them to insure safety of the child, I do not involve myself with dangerous people who threaten my reign or make me feel inferior. Yet that scene from today replays at the back of my head, over, and over, and over. 

  Pulling nail beds out, ripping fingers off, burning the wound so Chisaki doesn’t bleed out, she knew her ways and wasn’t even legal. I couldn’t help but wonder what would push such a young person– An innocent looking girl. Into that shit. She didn’t need the money, her financial status was stable, above average even. She’s smart, and got into a prestigious university with flying colors. 

  Noor seemed to… Enjoy it… In a way.

  Even I always had someone else to do the torture, I couldn’t stand the whining. My game was at tracking people down and making illegal money. Not torturing per say… 

  What am I even thinking about? I need sleep. Yes. 

  It’s been a long day. 

  Long, eventful, day. 

  Once I reached my room, I slipped out of my clothes and let my hair free, plopping into the bed in nothing but boxers and wrapping myself in the crisp blanket. 

  Closing my eyes. 

  Turning. 

  Rolling over. 

  Stay still.

  Focus on breathing. 

  In…

  Out…

  In…

  The image of Noor’s curious eyes and glossed lips flashed in my head again. The way she took my cig, got lightheaded and how her breasts felt against me. How she flashed those pretty doll eyes at me. How she smelled when I pinned her to the door, her eyes closed and chest heaving with anxiousness, curiosity and desire. So unpredictable yet so fucking entertaining and..

  Sweet, oh so sweet.

[the-travelling-witch]

I’ll be closing anon asks for an indefinite amount of time.

First and foremost, it’s not because I’ve been receiving hate or anything, but because of a personal boundary of mine. There are some things that have been bugging me for a while, I just didn’t know how to bring them up without sounding really mean.

While I’m extremely happy people are excited to be on my blog and I know that that excitement can easily spill over into asks, I don’t have the energy to wake up to a bunch of all caps asks every day. Indoor voices, everyone. /lh

And, also, I hope that it can encourage people to take a minute to reflect on their asks. It has happened quite often recently, where I’ve received asks that could have been answered with a quick glance at my blog or one google search, and I have to say I’m not a person who likes repeating herself or stating something blatantly obvious.

Reading through your ask just once more can also help get your point across better. More than once has it happened where I stumbled over what someone is trying to tell me, be it because of typos or grammar or a rushed way of wording, which is really sad because it could help me communicate more effectively and more precisely with you. To be clear, I don’t expect perfect punctuation or C2 level of expression, just a smidge more consideration or a quick skim over your ask before pressing submit.

I’m well aware that I’ve been answering and therefore probably encouraging this type of communication but I felt I had to speak up about it at this point. So far, I’ve not done so because I did not want to be seen as ungrateful or petty but I’m afraid of potentially letting these feelings affect my answers to the point where they are needlessly court or petty.

There are still some anon asks in my inbox right now, which I might answer. So don’t be confused when you see me answering those after this post.

I hope you can understand where I’m coming from and know that I really do not try to be mean. Going forward, however, I would like to nurture a relationship I feel comfortable engaging in, even if it means fewer but therefore unhurried asks.

Take care and feel free to drop by my inbox, just not on anon this time around <3