#i had to dig this all up since the games casually drop a hint or two

[tethrarisms]

So many beautiful things about these panels: Cyrus acknowledging that he was saved from his own despair thanks to the protagonists; the fact that he doesn’t punish Charon for his betrayal, simply leaving him behind instead; listening to Jupiter’s words and taking full responsability, even though he doesn’t intend to do bad stuff with Team Galactic anymore; the sweet moment when his Magneton lifts the three admins, taking them with him.

Cyrus slowly embracing his own flaws and imperfections by finding completeness in others is just so meaningful and sweet, especially for someone who grew up in an abusive household and had a hard time making friends, choosing to tinker with machines instead.The pain he endured all by himself, the fact that he lost Rotom for some reason, the loneliness and struggles. He never deserved any of that. And he never meant to destroy the world or hurt people, although his actions are controversial. He just wanted to get rid of emotions because he was never enough for his parents. He never found himself enough, often seeing his own existence as incomplete because he never had validation or affection. Still, he has such a strong will. He did everything he could to make a new world without any strife (albeit as twisted as his mind at that time).

Cyrus was never meant to be evil. He was literally just in a very sad and lonely position when growing up. He was in deep pain and by default decided to interpret that pain as a flaw of the spirit. “I can’t feel pain if I don’t feel anything at all.” As twisted as this thought is, it had logic for him, and he treasured logic above everything else. It made sense in his mind and this is why he was only able to see the errors of his ways when he realized that his plan would never be possible. He started listening and opening his heart to Diamond, and he finally understood that he could have overcome all that pain by finding peace and support in others, which is particularly hard for him because how could he trust people when his own family saw him as a disappointment, no matter how high his grades were or how hard he tried to live up to their expectations?

And yet, against all odds, he is trying. He literally found redemption by changing his own perspectives of the world, all by himself. That’s how strong Cyrus’s heart, will and spirit are.

[itwoodbeprefect]

I’m laughing because I also have “some kind of dadt repeal fic” living in my head as well but it hasn’t made it into official wip status becasue I can’t decide if it’s about John or Jack. ANYWAY.

All of these sound like so much fun! How am I supposed to choose just two? (I get two, right???). Ok I want to hear about “Starsky decides Hutch’s mustache is gay” because I just can’t pass that one up. (And if you feel like two I want to hear about Hutch and Paul Newman please!) <3

hey, why not both! why not both. :p

and that was supposed to be about john and jack, but it goes for tag game requests too. you definitely get two!

-

Starsky decides Hutch’s mustache is gay

this one has a much larger presence in my head than in the actual WIP document so far, but this does exist:

There’s always been something different about Hutch. Nothing bad, just – something. This undercurrent of a secret buried under layers of artfully placed fake dust, like whatever it is might still be alive and kicking but Hutch has gotten pretty good at pretending all the noise is just the neighbor’s TV.

And then Hutch grows that mustache, and Starsky thinks, huh.

and then from there starsky’s like, uh oh, i don’t really get this (the “this” being something he largely made up in his head, of course) but i have to show hutch i’m totally supportive of his Lifestyle Choices! so he drops by the green parrot for some Advice, digs deep in his own brain for anything he can come up with, and begins to drop subtle little hints for hutch that It’s Okay (think walt whitman poetry casually found in hutch’s spot in the torino when starsky picks him up for work) in ways that are completely confounding to someone who didn’t grow a mustache because he’s gay (“since when do you read poetry? are you feeling alright?”) but just because he thought it might look good (even though he is, for sure, a little gay). eventually this culminates in... something. probably some combination of hutch thinking starsky is trying to say something about himself, starsky getting concerned about hutch not picking up on his clever allusions to queer culture and going “hey, do you need me to teach you about gay stuff? you’re never going to pick up any guys this way” and/or hutch shaving off the mustache (still utterly unrelated to anything happening in starsky’s head) and starsky feeling disproportionally sad about it in ways that force him to consider some overlooked parts of himself. this will have to remain a surprise, because it’s that to me, too (but obviously they figure it out and get together, and whitman can go back on the shelf).

-

Hutch would pick Paul Newman

this one, on the other hand, is like, maybe 75% done, to the point where i’m sure this will get posted eventually, i just need to figure out some connecting pieces. it starts with a party at hutch’s place, who’s recently broken up with a girl he didn’t particularly like anyway, and starsky was supposed to help him clean up but he’s too wrapped up in his girl, so a friend of a friend offers to help hutch so starsky can go:

Hutch is doing inventory on his cutlery drawer, contemplating in the back of his mind whether it might not be easier to just tape it shut next time, when Mac hops up on the counter just next to him. He’s in Starsky’s girlfriend’s previous spot, now a little bigger because they stacked most of the dishes in the sink. He says, “So.”

“So?” Hutch is done counting, but he pretends he still has a reason to pass spoons from one hand to the other. Mac watches him at it.

“Who’s your favorite actress?”

“Farah Fawcett,” Hutch says, not because it’s particularly true, but because it’s easy, and Starsky was expounding the artistic merits of the red swimsuit poster during a stakeout last week. “You?”

“Loretta Swit. If you had to pick any guy, who would it be?”

Hutch doesn’t ask what for. That’s why they call it straight: you get to be direct. If you aren’t, you better not be. “Paul Newman.”

Mac quirks his head. He reminds Hutch of a cat that used to live on his granddad’s farm and was deaf in one ear, which means there are two reasons he almost laughs when he’s asked, “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof?”

“No. Butch Cassidy.”

“Good choice. I’m more of a Sundance Kid man myself.” Which is when Mac looks him over, and says, with all the casualness of a handkerchief tucked into a jeans pocket, “Hey, you remind me of Redford a little.”

No matter the circumstance, it’s hard not to be won over by a comparison like that. Besides, Hutch is standing in the remnants of a party, he doesn’t have a girl to do wrong, and Starsky won’t be walking in, because by now he must be getting busy somewhere far away.

So he closes the kitchen drawer, and he meets Mac’s eyes head on, and he thinks, why not?

from there on they have A Thing, with the only catch being that it’s not The Thing hutch wants (starksy. starsky is that thing), and it’s something about the easy placeholder answer vs. the actual truth, and of course there is a happy end (once hutch gets frustrated enough to try to trip starsky up, and it turns out that maybe starsky’s already flat on the floor), and paul newman gets mentioned like four more times even though none of it is actually about paul newman.

-

send me the title of one of my WIPs and i'll tell you something about it or post a snippet!

[meow-sic]

hi elliot! can you do a drabble or hcs of how kuroo, the miya twins, oikawa, and bokuto would propose to their s/o? if that's a lot of characters, then pls just take your pick but pls include kuroo! thank u so much!! btw i really like your "they accidentally hurt you" post. it provides realism and a middle ground to the usual extremes we see in reader-insert content - idyllic/saccharine vs dark content (•ˇ‿ˇ•)

how they propose to you 𓍢 ᭡

includes : oikawa , kuroo , bokuto !

warnings : some misunderstandings in oikawa’s from a prank lolol , some cursing !

a/n : hi anon! ur my first anon message and you warmed my heart<333 also i lowk got inspiration from bokutos from a spanish music video i watched in spanish class today, sue me lololol

oikawa tooru

he’s just dumb

he thought it would be funny to try to prank you

dumbass

butttttt knowing his luck, it didn’t go as planned—

okay, well, it started off innocent— he planned to try to casually slide it in, maybe catch you off gaurd, then get down on his knee and ask you to marry him!

but, when you were on top of him tickling him, he wanted to get back at you.

and like tooru oikawa, he didn’t fully think it through.

“mei! stop!” he laughed, as a joke. it was supposed to be a joke.

you stopped your fingers that were wiggling by his sides. you slumped on his lap. “what?”

he peeked at you and smiled. “what do you mean what?”

“who’s mei?”

“i didn’t say mei,” he replied, your eyes watered and you got off of his lap. he sat up and stared at you. “y/n? are you okay?”

he got up but you already were in your room, slapping the door shut.

“stupid tooru! you made ‘em upset,” he scolded himself quietly.

when he walked up to your shared room, he heard the sniffles and sobs that came from the other side that broke his heart. he knocked on the door three times before entering.

“honey,” he walked over to you and hugged you. you sobbed into his chest.

“how long has it been going on tooru?” you asked through your sobs.

he pet your hair, “what do you mean baby?”

“don’t act dumb! it’s like—“ you paused. “it’s like you’re trying to ignore the fact you’ve been cheating!”

he thought you knew he was joking. “y/n—“

“if you’re not going to tell me then i’m leaving,” you turned around to start packing your bags.

his eyes widened in panic. “nonono! no, shit—“ he was embarrassed. “i didn’t mean it! it didn’t happen! mei isn’t real!”

you stopped packing, “what?”

“she—it was supposed to be a joke. a joke to make you stop tickling me. it’s dumb because i don’t think things through. but that’s why i need you— i need you to be there so you can stop me from doing the stupid shit that i do,” he looked at you to see if you were looking at him.

and you were, you looked pissed. he sighed and bent down on his knee, pulling out the ring he had gotten weeks ago.

“y/n, i know i’m dumb. but please, forgive me for this stupid prank, and please stay with me forever. don’t leave, please.”

“stand up.”

he did so, and he wasn’t sure what to expect, but a slap across the face wasn’t it.

“you’re a fucking idiot, tooru oikawa,” you laughed, kissing him. “but— i suppose that’s why i’m here. and i’m not leaving.”

he beamed at those words, he wasn’t sure if he smiled wider in his entire life. he kissed your cheek repeatedly, “i love you so much

kuroo tetsuro

PLEASE- he would set you upppppp

giving you hints, to where he is

but not random hints, it would be like a mini time line of your relationship

he would through a lil chemistry is there to mess with you

lovingly, though<3

you woke up alone in bed, a little confused since your boyfriend would always be there— to kiss you good morning.

you rolled over to grab your phone from its charger, looking at the text message from kuroo.

boyfrie tetsu<3

good morning baby<3 sorry i’m not there this morning, let’s play a little— hide and seek game, the prize is a big one!

the first hint: we didn’t quite meet there, but it was where i became your “boyfriend” for the first time

good luck baby!<3

you were confused by his text, and honestly, you almost wanted to ignore it. it’s too damn early for this.

but, you can’t. you knew he was going to be waiting for you, and you can’t leave him all alone.

your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you groaned and started your day. you still got dressed none the less, and went to a café you always go to.

as the barista handed you your drink, you saw a note on it.

dear y/n,

you’re probably here for your morning coffee, but, none the less, this is where we first started to ‘date’! that one guy who wouldn’t stop hitting on you, and your prince charming (aka me aka the most handsome man ever) came to your rescue;)

where we promised each other is your new hint, good luck!<3

you knew where it was once you read the bolder letters. you thanked, and tipped the barista. you were more than happy to remember the memory.

“tetsu, it’s so late out, what if we get kidnapped!” you ranted your anxieties to him.

“kidnapped? you think anyone would dare to fight your prince charming?” he kissed your head as you two walked. “we’re almost there.”

he led you to the bridge that curved over the water like a C shape. you both leaned forward on the cement railing and looked at the moon.

“i’m so in love with you, y/n.” he admitted out of the blue, you looked at him.

“i’m in love with you too, tetsu.” you leaned your head on him, he wrapped an arm around you.

“i know we’re only in highschool. but i promise, i’ll marry you.”

“i’ll be waiting for that day, tetsu. even if it’s till we’re sixty, or if we’re only in our young twenties and being stupid. i’ll be waiting for you.”

you both melted at each other’s words, you shared a passionate kiss.

you ran up to where the bridge was. your pace slowed as your boyfriend came into view. he was holding flowers, and a lock.

you panted, “i hate running tetsu.” you breathed out, he laughed at you. “i know, sorry.”

you stood straight, looking at what he was wearing. it looked fancier than usual. “what’s the lock for?” you asked.

he looked at it and smiled, “i remember, it was our second year of college. you were so mad that they changed the bridge. that they changed the fencing, and couples started to put locks on it.”

“..and?”

“and i was thinking we could do one too?” he questioned. you smiled and grabbed the lock. you bent down and locked it, he wrote both of your initials on it.

you stood up, but your boyfriend stayed on his knee.

“tetsu what are you doing?”

he pulled a little box from his back pocket, a few pedestrians stopped and watched what was happening.

“when we were sixteen, we made a stupid promise to each other at midnight on this bridge. and i promised i would marry you. y/n, i told you ten years ago, when we were sixteen, that i love you.” he paused for a second to look up at your face, which was in shock. “and i still do, so please, keep the promise and marry me.”

“oh my god, oh my god! yes yes!” you got on your knees with him. he laughed at you for getting on your knees with him instead of waiting for him to stand up.

you tackled him in a hug while other people clapped for you two.

bokuto kotarou

tbh this stressed him out

he wasn’t sure when, how, or what to say

you two had talked about marriage and how you two would gladly marry each other

but he wasn’t sure when!!!

he kept the ring on him at all times just incase:)

you and bokuto were just returning from a walk. the snow was heavier than expected by you two, so when you got home to a pile of snow, you were thrilled.

“kou let’s make a snowman! like we did with your old team, c’mon!” you dragged him by the hand to your front yard.

you and bokuto were always childlike in your relationship, you two getting excited at the tiniest things that makes you two act like children. so when you saw the snow, you felt more than joy.

you began by making a small snowball in your hand, and rolling it as you walked around your yard, to form a big snowball for the base. by the time you were done with the biggest snowball, bokuto was done with the medium sized one.

“okay, if we pick it up at the same time, it shouldn’t break,” you lifed the medium sized snowball with him. you set it on top of the biggest one.

“hey hey hey! y/n! let me make the tinniest one while you get the scarf, carrot, and eyes and smile,” he suggested. you nodded and kissed his cold cheek before heading inside to quickly grab the items.

you grabbed a pink scarf, a white hat that kou got you one year, and a carrot and some coal for the eyes and smile.

when you headed outside, you saw the snowman was all made. your insides felt bubbly as your childlike happiness was showing.

you ran out to him. “i got everything kou!”

“okay! you decorate, and don’t turn around until i say so. i have a surprise for you,” he replied. you were confused at what the surprise could be, but you agreed none the less.

you put the carrot in the middle of the snowman’s face. you then placed the eyes, and tried your best to make the smile symmetrical.

you wrapped the scarf around it’s neck, and put the hat on top. “okay kou, i’m done! can i turn around?”

there was a short pause, “okay now you can.”

you turned around to him on his knee, holding out a ring. your mouth dropped open to see writing in the snow.

will you marry me? ♥︎

“yes! yes yes!” you basically screamed, tackling him and kissing him repeatedly.

“the ring! wheres the ring?” he questioned. you both started to dig it up in the snow, laughing at how stupid you two were.

you found it, and slid it on your finger. “i cant wait to marry you, baby.” your hands slid up and down his chest before you kissed him.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Remember?

Summary- 1.9k Frank Adler x You. Frank wakes you up at the ungodly hour of 3:30 am and will not even tell you why. Written for @stargazingfangirl18​ 5k challenge

Warnings- like... barely there mention hint of smut? But just barely? I cant even count it as a warning to be honest. 

A/N- so yes this is written for a soft!dark challenge, but dark writing just isn't happening. I went with just soft and with the prompt of lazy make out session.I really wanted to make sure I was giving something to Siri’s challenge because she works so hard on providing us wonderful fics to enjoy, is incredibly supportive and honestly she deserves it. Much love always babes and thank you for all you do.  

A/N 2- Can be read as a one shot. It is in the same verse as Oppressive. Also trying out a new site to make moodboards. I kinda like it? what do you all think? And I know the Fort Myers pier is made from concrete, not wood, but I wanted wood. So I went with wood. I always appreciate your thoughts on a fic. Alright, Much Love, Happy Reading! 🌊

“Baby wake up.” You heard a husky whisper in your ear as well as a rough scrape against your shoulder from Franks cheek as he pressed in close to your back, the soft hairs of his chest pressed into your sleepy warm skin and you muttered a no into your pillow as you hid your face into the cotton covers. 

He must be out of his ever loving mind to think you were going to wake up at… a quick peek at the old 80’s looking radio clock Frank loved sitting on his night stand. The red numbers were unfocused at first, but blurry sharpened to three thirty am. Yes, your man was crazy to think you were up for anything at all, and the way he was pressed into your ass cheeks, you suspected he woke up early for sex. 

That was going to be a hell no. “Frank go back to sleep. I will fuck you later.” You promised as you shifted back into your warm safe hollow. He chuckled gruffly and his hands slid on your hips to twist you to fast him, causing you to sigh and blink up at him. In the dark of the room, his eyes were a dull blue shining down at you amused. You though were no in that same mood as you blinked up at him, pushing a hand against his chest. “Come on Frank, I'm not in the mood. I was sleeping so good.” 

“You would think I would wake you up just for sex.” Frank scoffed.

“It wouldn't be the first time.” 

“Probably won't be the last either, but that's not what this is about. Come on Sweetheart, get up. I have a surprise.” He tapped your ass and pulled away as you were groaning, knowing sleep simply wasn't going to happen. 

“Adler, I swear to all that is holy, this better be good.” You grumbled as you sat up and tried to wake up. Frank came back out with some clothing for you, a pair of capris, tee shirt and undergarments. You looked at the casual clothing and arched your brows. “Where are you dragging me?” 

“Its a surprise, trust me, those are appropriate.” He started as he dressed in some old faded blue jeans and grey tee. Wherever he was taking you wasn't going to require dressing up too much, so you just pulled your hair back into a tie, and didn't bother with makeup. He kept glancing at his watch, and by three fifty he had you out the door and to his pickup truck. He tossed a bag in the back and when you went to question it, he shook his head firmly in a no while ushering you into the passenger side. “Part of it, just trust me.” 

“I trust you to have something up your sleeve Adler, considering you know I love my sleep in on Saturday Morning.” You grumbled under your breath. Typically you and Frank slept late Saturdays. Mary would go to Roberta’s Friday night for her weekly sleepover that both woman and child insisted on, you and Frank would go to the local bar for a night of cold drinks, games of pool and the occasional dancing when you could get Frank drunk enough to go on the small dance floor. Simple, but you always had a good time. Saturday was recovery day. 

So why was he dragging you out of bed on recovery day? 

“So a hint?” You decide to pester a bit, sliding closer on the bench seat till you were against his side, his arm circling around your shoulder to tuck you in closer and press a kiss to your temple. You could feel his lips upturned to a smirk against the side of your head. 

“You want a hint… It has to be done early in the morning.” 

You rolled your eyes at him with a huff, dropping your hand to dance your fingers against a jean clad thigh, making his eyes dart down to your hand. “I want better then that.” 

“You are not gonna get it Baby, but you can try your best.” 

He really was being serious this time, because he caught your hand from wandering up to far and brought it to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. 

“Alright Adler, keep your secrets then.” You let your head rest on his shoulder and eyes close. Frank was stubborn, always had been. You knew when you just had to let it go. You drifted in and out as he sped along the interstate. Soon he was turning off, but you weren't quick enough to catch what the exit was, so still had no idea. 

“Are we there?” 

“Close, you don't know where we are?” He asked with a slight laugh in his voice. You shrug a bit as you two are driving down the main drag of the area, passing all night gas stations, fast food chain restaurants, outlet stores and parking lots. 

“No clue, every place in Florida has this Frank.” 

He hummed a bit, slowing to an intersection and flicking on his blinker. “True, but you will soon see.” He winked as he made the turn, pulling away from the city-like area and moving towards the beach strip. Where million dollar homes, hotels, and beach side tourist traps laid quiet in the barely morning hours. It was starting to lighten though, you could see the black blue of the night sky make way for lighter purples and pinks. 

So you remained patient, waiting for wherever Frank was taking you. The terrain started to get sandier, the crack of the window took on a breezy salty scent and you could taste the hint of surf and sand in the air. Your lips turned upwards, just that scent alone reminded you of a couple years ago, and it all clicked right where you were. 

Your first overnight away from home with Frank was to Fort Myers, a small rundown motel on the beach. The room was iffy, the Ac barely worked, neither of you dared to use the pool. At the time it was all you two could afford. And it was all perfect. 

Because that morning, before sunrise, you two escaped to the beach, arm in arm and sat in the dunes to watch the sunrise over the crashing ocean, and all was perfect in the world with each other. 

Frank glanced over to see the knowing look on your face, and his own softened in a smile, his hand coming to grasp the inside of your thigh gently, squeezing. “Now you know?” He pulled into an almost deserted parking lot. At the other end were a group of people, unstrapping their boards to get ready to go into the surf. 

“Of course Frankie.” You said with a touch of sentiment in your tone as you leaned over to peck his lips and nip at him playfully. “How can I forget?” You pull away suddenly and jump out of the car, yanking off your shoes to ditch in the truck. Frank followed, doing the same with his own boots. 

You had already taken off into the sand, making your way towards the surf to dig your feet into the wet sand happily. Now it was getting lighter, those dark purples and pinks made way for the reds and oranges as the barest hint of the sun kissed the horizon. 

Frank came up behind, having managed to yank his jeans up partially around his calves and pressed you two to walk out a bit further into the surf, the salt water spritzing you both in a fine cooling mist, clinging to your skin, in your hair, on your clothes. It all brought back the sensations of that first trip together. You fall back into his chest while he dips his head to mouth kisses into your neck, enjoying the quiet of the moment with you in a more physical way for a moment. Making you tilt your head to the side while the sun finally broke. 

From the nearby pier, heavy pelicans lined the side to swoop down, skimming over the water in lines, giving the two of you a show all for yourselves, among the surf the small sandpipers chased after the tiny ghost crabs trying to escape back into the surf, all of it made you smile. This felt like home to you, right here with Frank. 

“It feels like forever since we have visited.” You finally say as you turn to face Frank, the two of you stepping out of the surf, and hand in hand making your way along the beach's edge towards the pier, the sandpipers running away as fast as they could, a few taking to wing to fly several yards ahead of you to start there search in the surf retreating back from the edge once more. 

“Been a couple years at least. I was looking at the calendar and realized an anniversary of ours was coming up.” He mentioned while you two stepped under the pier. A small private world for you two at the moment as far above you people made their way towards the end stretching out over the water, ready to drip lines for fishing in the surf. Here though, underneath it all, was just for you and Frank. 

Nothing but water crashing to the shore, wood above your heads and the morning bringing back fond memories. Memories of shared kisses against one of the ageless logs helping to hold the deck yards above them steady, the way your legs wrapped around his hips as he pinned you in place and loved you so freely out in the open where they could be caught. How afterwards Frank said those words that he never uttered to anyone else in the way he said it to you. 

Fuck I think I love you. 

You thought then you loved him to. Now you knew you did. Your fingers looped in his belt loops and you walked backwards, till your back pressed once more against that sand and salt aged wood, looking up at him in the now very present dawn. 

“You know Frank, I think I love you.” 

“You know what Y/N, I think I love you too.” He winked, sliding in closer till he was pressed against you, his hands cupping the side of your face and tilting up to meet him, his tongue sliding past soft lips to the sweet heat of your mouth and tangling his tongue with yours. It elicited a soft moan from the back of your throat. 

Warming salty air really agreed with Frank, mixing the tastes on your tongue, you curled your arms around his body, clutching at his back as you now clung to him, thoroughly enjoying the way this kiss made you feel. 

The sensations of love and passion curling in your belly and your heart thud against your breast bone, absorbing into Frank as he pressed into your body, trying to daze you from rational thoughts, away from the everyday thoughts. 

Frank had a talent at making you appreciate the here and now. 

And right here, with sand covering your feet, your shirt and pants clinging to you from the ocean spray and your man completely pressing every ounce of his affection into you, you could do nothing but appreciate being in the moment. 

“Scratch that, I don't think, I know I love you Frank Adler.” You managed to break out of his kiss for half a second. 

“I know you do.” He assured you as he grasped the back of your thighs and lifted you enough to fold your legs around his waist. “I plan on showing you just how I feel.” He promised, the glint in his ocean blue eyes turning mischievously playful under that pier.

[writerpeach]

Expensive

Twice Mina x Male Reader

4179 words

Categories: smut, oral, anal, richgirl!mina

I wrote this in two sittings and spent zero time editing this.

“You'll do nicely."

"Excuse me?"

"I said you'll do nicely. Don't make me repeat myself again."

The words came abruptly from a stunning blonde woman approaching you, wine glass in hand and a blank expression on her soft features. She had on an elegant blue dress with a slit on one side that showed off her long legs. Each step she took her high heels echoed as she stepped closer on the hard wooden floor.

"I'm afraid I don't follow Miss-"

"Myoui. Myoui Mina, but you may refer to me as Mina."

She finished her glass of wine before she placed it on a nearby waiter’s tray before continuing her explanation. The place was packed enough that you felt the need to escape to a nearby corner. Mina seemed to have the same idea.

"Okay, Mina. What can I help you with exactly?"

"I'm looking for companionship."

You furrowed an eyebrow at her words. You had come along to this gathering as a favor to one of your friends who had spent months preparing it, only to not have seen them in the last hour.

"Certainly there's someone better to pick than me?"

Mina huffed.

"There's not, look around. Nothing but boring rich men that can't keep their eyes off me. I'd rather die than spend another minute with any of them and having to hear about their yachts."

"Well, I certainly don't have a yacht to bore you, with Miss Mina."

Mina smiled for the first time of the night since she approached you, giving off a hint of her gummy smile.

"Perfect. Then it's settled. You'll come home with me."

Bluntness was her game here. The more Mina spoke the more intimated you felt.

"I'm sorry? I barely know you, Mina."

"What's to know? I'm lonely, I'm rich, and I think you're attractive. Do you really need anything else?"

Mina didn’t seem like she was used to rejection given what little information you had been given about her.

"No, I guess not."

"Good, then come with me."

It hadn’t been much longer than ten minutes before she had abruptly introduced herself, and yet you found it hard to resist such an offer.

"My driver will be here in ten minutes. Follow me,” she said before you could even answer her, and at this point there was nothing that could compel you to deny the companionship of such a perfect woman.

Mina led you into a more quiet room away from the hustle of the crowd, positioning herself in between two white curtains.

“I don’t like to know anything about the men I’m about to sleep with, but you may ask me three things. No less, no more.”

Mina talking so casually about what was about to happen didn’t match her innocence face, but her confidence was still incredibly appealing. 

“How old are you?”

Mina frowned. “You know better than to ask a woman her age, don’t you?”

You gritted your teeth and cursed yourself for being so dumb. Talking to women wasn’t your strong suit.

“Why are you looking for a companion? A woman like you should be able to get any partner she pleases.”

“I’m not looking for a partner. I’m looking for someone to have fun with. Now that’s one. You have two left.”

“Where are you from?”

Mina hesitated before answering, her flashing an expression of disappointment.

“This isn’t a job interview, make your questions count. I’m from America, but I’m Japanese.”

If Mina wanted a little spice well you were going to be sure to give her some as you knew exactly what to ask her.

“What’s your favorite position in bed?”

Mina smiled again and answered right away. “Doggystyle. I love being on my hands and knees bent over so a man can admire my ass while he’s fucking me,” she said as she grabbed the bottom of your tie and played with it before using it to pull you closer.

You felt her hot breath blowing in your ear before her voice turned into a whisper.

“One minute until my driver gets here. Touch me,” Mina said seductively as she looked into your eyes and you didn’t need to be told twice.

Your hands wrapped around her slender waist as she wrapped an arm around your neck and kissed you. She grabbed your wrist and placed your hand on her bare leg, leading you deeper into the slit of her dress as your lips found the crook of her neck and kissed it in several spots.

You savored Mina’s taste on your lips as your hand slipped further into the slit on her dress, stopping just before you reached her thigh which she didn’t approve of, giving a glaring look that urged you to continue. Your hand traveled towards her crotch, waiting to find the barrier of underwear but never finding any as you felt the soft flesh of her bare pussy, not feeling a single hair.

“Surprised? I never wear underwear, it just gets in the way,” Mina smirked. “Come on, he’s here.”

You followed Mina out of the venue and into an awaiting black sports car, heading into its comfy back seat as you closed the door behind you.

"Where to, Miss Myoui?"

"Take us home. Step on it."

"Right away. I see you've found a new plaything."

"Hey, don't scare him off."

The car sped off as Mina kept her gaze focused on you, her hand caressing your thigh.

"We're going to have a lot of fun tonight."

"Mina, this dress looks so good on you."

"It's going to look even better on the floor. Now no more talking," Mina said and you unexpectedly felt her small hand cupping your crotch as you sat in silence.

"You feel big. Can't wait to feel this inside me."

Mina left the car and led you towards her rather large house, multiple cars out from and a gated entrance surrounded by a beautiful garden.

As soon as you entered Mina pulled you against her small frame against your body, pinning you against the entrance door as her soft sultry lips crashed against your own.

"Bedroom. Now," Mina demanded as she broke the kiss and kicked her heels off, her wide hips swaying as she led the way to the bedroom.

"Undress me."

You ran a hand up Mina's back before finding the zipper of her expensive dress, dragging it down as far as it would go.

Mina did the rest, letting the blue dress fall from her shoulders and fall down onto the ground as it crumpled into a heap. She was right, it did look better on the floor.

You didn’t know much about Mina in the short time you had met her. She was beautiful and elegant and very well off but seeing her this way without a single layer of clothing, completely nude took your breath away.

Mina looked so damn good naked. She gave off a shy smile as your eyes roamed every inch of her, focusing first at her beautiful legs that went on for days and thick creamy thighs. She didn’t even know her name, and yet you wanted her so bad as you saw her incredibly toned abs and immaculate tits. Mina’s perky breasts weren’t huge, but they weren’t small either, they looked like they fit into your hands perfectly.

“Enough staring, strip and get up here. A woman should always be pleasured first, ” Mina said as she climbed the bed, keeping her stoic gaze on you and couldn’t agree anymore. You quickly matched Mina’s state of undress as you removed your clothes, leaving a pile in the middle of the floor as you joined her on the bed.

“You listen well. I might have to keep you around,” Mina said as her lips curled into a smirk again. Her legs spread wide open, giving you the perfect view of her beautiful pussy that was ready to be feasted on.

“Eat me.”

You licked your lips as you laid down flat on your stomach, keeping Mina’s legs spread wide open for you. Before diving in you kissed both of her thighs repeatedly, bringing your face to her center as you licked up and down her slit slowly, earning a moan.

The sweet taste of Mina’s pussy was the best thing that had entered your mouth that night as you licked through her folds, running your tongue aimlessly before teasing and sucking on her swollen clit.

“F-fuck, that’s good. Show me what you can do with that tongue.”

Mina’s moans were music to your ears as you ate her pussy out, licking her pussy with purpose as her thighs closed around your face. The taste that entered your tastebuds was unforgettable as you leaked every drop of honey that dripped out of her leaking pussy, savoring her escaping juices that entered your lips.

“That feels so fucking good,” Mina moaned as her thighs squeezed your head tighter, and she ran her fingers through your hair, trying to force your tongue deeper inside her sensitive delicious pussy. You fucked her hole with your tongue, trying to capture as much of her essence in between your lips as her loud moans filled the room.

“Keep going…” Mina said as you kept your lips sealed around her clit, slurping hungrily as you brought two fingers inside her pussy, feeling her tight walls clenching as you curled them and found her spot with ease.

“Oh..oh f-fuck, I’m close, don’t you dare fucking stop.”

Mina was so delicious that nothing could keep you from eating her pussy, lapping up all her juices as your fingers became drenched in slick. You felt fingers digging into your skull as you did your best to keep your lips tight, barely able to breathe.

“I’m gonna fucking cum on your face, oh f-fuck!”

You kept the pressure on her clit, fingers moving in and out of her tight cunt as they clenched tightly, signaling her impending release. You kept constant eye contact as Mina’s toes curled and her thighs trembled violently around your head, holding you in place as her orgasm took control of her body and she made a mess on your face and screamed out in pleasure.

Mina came so hard the bed shook as you felt your face covered in her nectar, and tried to help her ride out her orgasm as best as she came down from her high, releasing her warm thighs around your face as you slowly pumped in and out of her pussy, cleaning your messy fingers off in front of her.

“Y-you’re good at that,” Mina weakly said, catching her breath.

“Let me return the favor,” Mina said as she got into position, kneeling on the mattress as she pulled her hair into a messy ponytail.

“Stand up and let me suck your cock.”

Whenever Mina gave an order you obeyed it, carefully rising to your feet as Mina eagerly awaited. She ran her tongue over her lips as she looked at your shaft, now hard as a rock and eye level as she gripped it tightly and stroked it, sending the first shocks of pleasure through your body.

“This will do.”

Mina didn’t waste time as she licked every inch of your shaft, keeping her eyes on you as her tongue swirled around your swollen head, collecting everything your leaking slit dripped out. Mina hummed as she rubbed your cock on her cheek, slapping her face with it several times and letting out the biggest grin.

“Are you ready to have the best blowjob of your life?” Mina asked confidently. You didn’t have a chance to answer as Mina’s lips parted, and you felt a sudden rush of wetness and warmth as you entered her mouth.

“Oh fuck…” you moaned out loud and sunk your toes into the mattress at the sharp pleasure, letting out a deep breath.

Mina wasted no time getting to work, wrapping her full red lips around your cock as she bobbed her head up and down, sinking her lips deeper as she took all of you with ease, using her tongue to pleasure the underside of your throbbing shaft.

“Oh my god, Mina…”

Mina kept her soft delicious lips sealed around your shaft as you rested a hand on the back of her head, guiding her movements as she fondled your heavy balls.

“Does that feel good?” Mina asked in that sexy soft voice of hers, running her lips down each side of your hard cock before resuming her blowjob, moaning around your shaft.

“It does, fuck it feels amazing.”

Mina upped her pace in response, looking up as she sucked you off and loving your cock in her mouth as much as you did.

Mina looked like a goddess on a normal occasion, and here she was on her knees, pleasuring you as best as she could and she couldn’t have looked any more beautiful.

“Fuck my face.”

The three words surprised you coming out of Mina’s mouth, such vulgarity coming out of what you perceived as a proper woman was such a striking contrast.

“I really hate repeating myself,” Mina said as your cock slipped from her lips and jerked it off furiously, staring into your soul with her deadly gaze.

Whatever Mina wanted Mina seemed to always get.

You took control of your cock as Mina opened her mouth wide, waiting to accept your gift into between her warm lips, the red color on them almost devilish.

Not wanting to keep Mina waiting you took your cock and pushed it into her wet warm mouth, feeling the tight grip of her lips as they instinctively wrapped around it and thrusted gently, hitting the back of her throat with your initial thrusts.

You waited for gagging sounds that never came, and once you realized that Mina was not struggling one bit you grabbed onto both sides and vigorously began to fuck her pretty mouth as she held onto your thighs, sharply digging her nails into your skin.

Mina looked up the entire time as you used her mouth for your pleasure, feeling her throat tightening as you thrusted carelessly. It only took a matter of seconds until Mina’s round pretty eyes filled with tears as you were mercilessly fucking her mouth, moaning every time your cock struck the back of her warm throat.

Your thoughts filled only with lust as you fucked Mina’s warm mouth, thrusting harshly in a rhythm that only made her muffled moans louder as drool spilled everywhere. You kept this up again and again, holding onto the back of Mina’s head and forcing her as deep against your base for several moments before releasing her.

Mina smiled proudly and gasped for air, spitting her saliva all over your shaft and balls before changing her attitude.

“That’s enough. Fuck me. Now,” Mina said as she laid back down on the bed, spreading her legs wide as she rubbed her pink pussy in anticipation. Positioning yourself in between you took just a moment to rub your shaft through her wet folds, gathering her slick before nudging at her entrance.

“Don’t keep me waiting. Fuck me.”

“Needy are we, Miss Myoui?”

Mina glared back at you and shot an intimidating gaze that sent a shiver up your spine.

"Don't use my family name in the bedroom."

It was a mistake you wouldn’t make twice.

With one slick move your shaft entered the warmth of Mina’s pussy, her tight walls clenching to welcome you in as you both gasped at the initial penetration. Mina was dripping wet as you slowly slid in and out of her hole, her juices making every movement as easy as possible.

“God, you’re so tight...”

“And you feel so big inside me. Shut up and fuck me.”

You used your hips and watched your shaft disappearing in and out of her pussy, hearing Mina’s lustful moans filling the room as her head tilted back in pleasure. Her tight cunt squeezed your cock as you thrusted in and out of her body, filling her up to the hilt.

“Fuck me harder.”

Mina always knew what she wanted and you were going to give her everything she desired. Your pace quickened right away as you pumped your throbbing shaft deep inside Mina, causing her breasts to bounce with every rock of your hips.

“Harder. Pound me.”

Grabbing onto Mina’s slim waist you obliged her right away, driving your cock with such force that the bed began to slam against the wall. Mina’s eyes were full of lust as you gave deep pistoning thrusts into her tightness, feeling every single inch of her warm wet pussy.

“Fuck me just like this. Fuck me until I cum again!”

You didn’t let up, increasing the pace even more as you slammed your cock inside Mina’s cunt with every inch of your throbbing shaft. It felt incredible how tight she was, and fucking her at this relentless pace that she demanded.

Mina felt so good around your cock, so wet and tight around your cock as you pounded her into the mattress, watching her half-lidded eyes and her opened mouth filled with pleasure as you gave into her.

“That’s it. I’m fucking close. I’m gonna cum!”

With every thrust Mina felt even wetter, drowning your cock in her juices as you pounded her, moaning and gasping with every harsh movement.

Your initial meeting with her was a prim and proper girl who screamed elegance, and here she was a lust filled mess in between the sheets, about to make a mess on them.

Mina’s tight pussy pulsated around your shaft as you plunged deep inside her, her long legs wrapped around your waist as she chased her orgasm. Her loud sounds of bliss echoed as you fucked her, and soon after Mina came beautifully all over your cock, toes curling as her back arched high and screamed in pleasure.

You fucked her through every last strong second of pleasure, and her limbs uncoiled as she came down a gasping mess, messy juices leaking down her thighs and spilling onto the bed sheets.

“N-not bad,” Mina said as she tried catching her breath, a sly smirk forming over lips.

“You made me cum twice, so it’s only fair that you get to cum now,” Mina said as her stamina began to recover, running a hand through her soft golden locks.

“I want you to cum inside me,” Mina said casually as pushed herself off your cock, repositioning herself on her stomach as she got into her favorite way to be taken, hands and knees on the mattress. You took your first glimpse at her raised plump round ass, perfectly looking soft cheeks that looked very appetizing.

“But not in my pussy,” Mina said as she shook her round ass, giving each of her cheeks a firm slap.

“There’s lube in the drawer. I assume you know what to do with it.”

Bottle in hand you lined up behind Mina’s beautiful big ass, squeezing her warm buttcheeks and kneading them, digging your fingers into her soft flesh as much as possible.

You quickly realized the bottle of lube she kept had been almost depleted.

“Seems like you’re almost out,” you teased as you shook the bottle several times, watching the clear liquid flowing around inside.

“You caught me. Can you blame a girl for loving anal?”

“Not at all. Especially when you have an ass this perfect,” you said, giving both of her cheeks a quick slap as her flesh rippled. You couldn’t help yourself as you rubbed your face all over Mina’s delicious ass, teasing the rim of her puckered hole with the very tip of your tongue.

“Mmm, fuck,” Mina moaned in satisfaction as you spread her cheeks wide, letting you know she enjoyed having her ass eaten. You licked her hole repeatedly, swirling around it before finding your face being pushed away, a frown on your face forming in response.

“I love that tongue, but I’d rather have your cock inside my ass.”

You were disappointed, but what Mina wanted Mina got as you lubed up your cock up and her puckered hole in preparation, the mutual anticipation at an all time high.

Placing a hand on one of Mina’s wide hips you lined up your lubed shaft with her asshole as she arched her back and looked back impatiently, a sultry look on her eyes.

You knew better than to keep her waiting, slowly pushing your cock into her tight rim and feeling how incredibly tight her ass was as your tip disappeared inside. Mina gasped loudly as her muscles relaxed, allowing you to fill more of her ass.

“Deeper. Fill me with every inch, I can take all of you inside my ass,” Mina demanded, needing no adjustment whatsoever. Her pussy was incredibly tight, but her ass was on a whole different level, hugging your cock firmly. The initial resistance faded, and with the combination of your saliva and lube you were able to penetrate Mina’s ass to the hilt.

“F-fuck, I love that feeling so much. I love feeling so full. Fuck me in the ass.”

Mina’s vulgar words once again contrasted with her elegance and beauty. You felt extreme tightness and heat around your cock as you started moving, thrusting in and out of Mina’s ass at a gentle pace.

“You can do better than that.”

Mina was never easily satisfied it seemed. Grabbing onto her full wide hips you squeezed her flesh tightly as you fucked her ass without any kind of buildup, pumping in and out and stretching out her tight little hole.

“That feels so good...that cock feels so good inside my ass, don’t stop fucking me.”

Soon your thrusts were at the same relentless pace, slamming your cock deep inside Mina’s tight asshole so harshly that her ass jiggled with every deep thrust, your balls slapping against her wet pussy that Mina couldn’t help but give out loud needy moans.

“Oh my god, Mina, your ass feels so good,” you moaned as you felt so much tightness squeezing your shaft. Mina gasped and moaned desperately as her fingers dug into her expensive silk sheets, trying to find an outlet for the intense pleasure you were giving both of your bodies.

“Fuck, you’re so deep. I can’t wait for you to empty your balls inside my ass.”

You never wanted your cock to leave the comfort of Mina’s incredibly tight asshole, fucking into her ass with as much effort as you possibly could, hearing the combined moans filling the room.

The tightness gripping your cock was like nothing you had ever felt before, feeding your animalistic urges as you pounded Mina’s ass as hard as you could as your bodies became covered in sweat, the harsh sounds of flesh on flesh encouraging your merciless pace.

“You like that tight pretty ass being fucked Mina?” you hissed as you pounded her hole with every amount of remaining energy you had, wanting to do nothing but make a mess inside her.

“Y-yes, fuck yes! Keeping fucking me, and don’t stop until you cum!”

You wanted nothing more. You squeezed Mina’s hips hard enough to leave bruises, pistoning your hips uncontrollably as you gave her tight ass the deepest and hardest thrusts, opening her up as much as you could as a tightness formed in your abdomen.

“F-fuck, Mina, i’m gonna cum soon.”

“Do it! Cum inside me, fill my ass with cum!”

You wish you could have stayed in this position for eternity. Mina’s bent over body covered in sweat, her tight perfect ass being pounded into by your shaft was something you never wanted to stop, but it grew to be too much. Each thrust into her asshole grew that tightness in your core even more, and you couldn’t last much longer, you’re not sure if anyone could.

It took only a handful more of thrusts until you were at your limits, burying your cock deep inside Mina’s tight asshole as far as it would go. You moaned her name loudly as you violently throbbed in her ass, sending thick spurts of cum deep into her body. You kept thrusting inside her ass as much as you could, emptying your balls as her hole milked every drop out of you.

You rested inside her as you recovered from one of the best orgasms you’d ever had, running your hands all over Mina’s body as you kissed her shoulders. Slowly pulling out of Mina you exited her body as thick semen slowly dripped out of her freshly fucked gaped asshole, dripping down her thighs and staining her sheets.

With nothing left you crashed next to Mina, trying to catch your breath as she pressed her naked sweaty body against yours.

“Mina, that was amazing…” you said, finding your stamina completely gone as you sank into the mattress.

“You weren’t bad either. Like I said, you would do nicely,” Mina said, flashing one more gummy smile.

“Rest up. You’re going to have a long weekend ahead of you.”

[spicylove4ever]

Desmond Sycamore through The Azran’s Legacy.

Spoilers for those who hadn’t played the game or watched the gameplay and daydreaming about playing it but you didn’t have the console. You have been warned.

First thing I want to stand out is how they put perfectly clear that Sycamore was Descole all allong. On the freaking trailer. It was so clear, they didn’t even gave us an animatic with the reveal! So we missed everyone’s faces when he showed up.... such a wasted opportunity... 

And all they had to do was leave this on the trailer:

Since we had seen Raymond all the time with Descole, anyone would have figured out with this that Desmond was Descole.

So, we knew it was the freaking Descole ALL. THE. TIME. We heard him talk about casual things like the weather, and being completely polite and all that, and especially when people talk shit about him and he had to bite his damn tongue or he would blew out his disguise! LOL He had to be so chill all the time and not be the usual drama king he usually is...

Inner Descole: Does it pay off to have a cat littering my so clean airship so my companions can solve some puzzles? Uhm.... ug, fine.

Inner Descole though all this: listen up you brat! I don’t have to steal anything! I’m a recognised archeologist and I can just ask to check them out! Ok, Descole just don’t say anything... yeah, let’s agree with Layton on not diggin on me for now...

He’s a run-away so if he hears about police those are bad news. Clue for those who didn’t watch the trailer.

And these other times when his disguise was about to be compromised....

 She was lucky he didn’t break his character that time.

We all know that “storm inside” included day-dreaming about murder with giant machines. XD

The rest of the journey Sycamore barely does things that stand out to the rest of the team, I suspect in order to not look suspicious. But he couldn’t help but to let some things slip, so we have things like these:

First hint of having someone that was gone for good. TT_TT

Followed by a hint of his true self by put in doubt Julien’s sanity. I loved that.

This kind of dropped like a bomb to all of us. And it hit HARD. He had a freaking family, with a kid and all. 

His smug personality and show-off self stands out a little by letting us know that he would rival with Layton anytime on knowledge just because he still wants to prove Layton that he can do things better than him.

More sad wisdom come from experience. :(

But Desmond always losed his temper anytime Targent was involved, and especially when Bronev was in the room. 

He totally broke character here. I can’t blame him, because we could read between the lines that Bronev ordered Sycamore’s family’s death, and that made Desmond turn into Descole.

So, he finally gets everything he needs from the team, and leaves them behind.

But things were not as easy as he thought.

On this trip, he used as disguise his old self before turning into Descole. Which means that re-using this face meant:

He had to act again as how he used to be.

Act as how he used to be means get in touch again with his old self.

Number 2 leads to re-touch ways of being that he hasn’t since he put a mask on.

He re-asumed ways of being, so he got in touch again with old feeling and his usual coping mechanisms of violence were not an option, because that would break character.

He didn’t play to be Sycamore, he was returning to be him again. Or at least, half in the journey.

All that journey made him dig out old feelings, and what was left of his heart.

So, when he went back to the team, this time not hiding his actual thoughts....

Luke is angry at him, and throws at him all that anger all the time everytime he has the chance...

... at first, Descole is completely chill with it. 

But then, Luke hits the spot where hurts, and he shows regret.

And when the time came...

He jumped to protect Luke.

Let’s put aside his origin story that he told when he has in the ground and down, except for the part that he finally put the cards on the table, and showed what was inside of him all this time, and the extend of how much he has hold a grundge to Targent.

After it, he, at first just leaves it all on Layton’s hands, but he decides to get back up again: 

(no, the dialogue is not complete, I just used the most important parts)

All of this speaks for itself. 

But when all it’s over, though, he doesn’t come back as Sycamore, he keeps on as Descole, also sepparates from the group for good.

What did I get from all this emotional journey Descole went through? He gave up most of his self-destructive behaviour and regain the will to live. And all thanks to get in contact with his old self and with two special young ones that made his heart awake again. Even if he couldn’t return to his old self after all what happened, he found a new spark for his life. Thanks to Aurora mostly.

As for me... well...

[reinersbb]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 [𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 / 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔] Chapter Three- Spin The Bottle

Chapter Three of Forget

This chapter contains 18+ material [smut]

Familiar intense light brown eyes bored into you, taking in your appearance, "we seriously need to stop running into each other like this, coffee girl."

The same man from yesterday stood before you, holding onto you, only now he looked different, polished even. A stark contrast between now and the day previous. His ash-brown hair was effortlessly tamed, almost like the locks of hair had been combed through by his fingers, but his bangs still spilled over his forehead. And in replacement of the heather grey tracksuit, he was clad in a black button-up shirt with the top few-or-so buttons undone, white bottoms that were missing a belt, and black shoes. Everything combined perfectly to create a monochromatic outfit.

Any other time you would've taken into account how favorable the man was, but now definitely was not one of those times.

Maybe this was some sick joke, no, maybe this callous world wanted to torment you and make you suffer for some unknown reason. Wasn't being broken up with enough suffering as is?

'No, because this world is just that cruel.'

No words could describe the immense embarrassment you currently felt as your skin began to prickle with a wave of heat that began to arise within your entire body. Both of his hands casually released from your waist when he pulled away from you by taking a step away, but still lingering in your personal bubble. The scent of musky sheer cashmere was prominent as your bodies stood parallel with one another.

You stilled momentarily, backtracking his greeting.

'Coffee girl.'

Out of bitterness, you rolled your eyes out of annoyance from the nickname he'd pinned to you, "coffee girl? Seriously?"

"Well," he started with a head tilt, and continued by crossing his arms around his chest, "to be fair, you left without saying your name, coffee girl."

"I'll have you know it was a pumpkin spice latte if we're speaking technicalities," you said matter-of-factly as if it would make any difference.

A cheeky smirk began to pull at his lips as his shoulders lowered, dipping down slightly to lean into you, "okay, latte girl, what's your name then?"

You shielded your annoyance by pressing the mouth of your wine cooler against your lips, taking a swift sip of the cold mixed berry flavored liquid. At this point, you were fuming at the fact he'd hardly said anything but still managed to press all of your buttons by one single comment.

He continued to stand there, awaiting an answer from you. Preferably your name.

"Okay," you began to speak, causing his body to perk up, "my name is (Y/N)."

He stood up straight to bask in the new information, which only made you yet again realize how tall the man really was. You shifted uncomfortably in your strappy heels, waiting for him to say something. Anything.

"(Y/N)," your name rolled off of his tongue delicately, and it seemed there was a hint of contemplation on his face, "it's nice to meet you, (Y/N)."

"Likewise, uh..." you paused for a beat, scanning his face with uncertainty since you didn't know his name, "what's your name?"

"My name-"

Just as he opened his mouth to relay his answer, he was cut off by a man who'd just paraded into the kitchen.

"Jean!"

The man turned his head, forwarding his attention to the man you hadn't seen before until now.

Jean?

You stared at him as he wasn't paying any attention to you. Quickly, you scanned him up and down once or twice, noticing now that he was wearing black stud earrings that were almost hidden by his hair.

"What is it?" There was an obvious switch in his tone of voice, now he sounded annoyed.

"We're all waiting for you downstairs," the man who you suspected was his friend pointed towards the exit of the kitchen.

"I'm coming, give me a second to grab a beer," he grumbled under his breath.

Jean turned to look away from his friend, his light brown orbs catching onto yours for a split second as he bent down to a cooler and began digging around in the ice.

"Who's your friend?" The man with brunette hair thrown together into a messy bun asked.

He lifted a curious brow, his green eyes were glazed over and glossy as he stared at you with slight interest. Maybe you liked the attention, especially since now you were single. In the back of your mind, you remembered how Historia and Ymir were stressing to have fun and let loose tonight, did that entail hooking up with some stranger that appeared to be some type of fuckboy?

You surely wouldn't hold yourself against it.

"Don't give this drunk bastard any of your attention, (Y/N)," Jean exhaled, beer bottle in hand.

In response his friend flipped him off, "fuck you, Jean, I'm not even that drunk."

"Whatever, Eren, you can go ahead and head down to the basement, I'll just be one more second here," Jean said, motioning to you slightly with his beer bottle.

With that, Eren shoved his hands into his sweat pockets and trudged out of the kitchen, checking out another girl's ass as he exited the kitchen.

Jean turned to look at you, his gaze dropping to your lips and back up to your eyes to hold eye contact, "do you want to come with us downstairs?"

Slight excitement filled your chest at the mention of joining them downstairs. But immediately after you drowned in a puddle of disappointment, remembering that you were waiting around for either one of your friends to show up. Preferably both.

"I'm waiting for my friends right now, sorry," you apologized, but the temptation didn't cease to exist.

"Ah, maybe we'll bump into each other again some other time," he flicked a shred of ice off of the bottle of beer, "see you around."

You stared at the exit longingly after Jean left the area. Maybe you should've gone with him, but you knew it would've been wrong to leave without letting either of your friends know of your whereabouts.

A perfectly good party, and here you were waiting around in the kitchen, appearing to be some type of outcast. You felt inclined to venture off from the kitchen and search for your friends yourself but decided to stay in the place where Historia saw you last.

With what felt like a few minutes later, and you were already on your second wine cooler, a familiar face finally greeted you. And you felt like you could cry out of joy.

"Historia! Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes," you dropped the now empty bottle of your second wine cooler into the garbage bin. "Did you ever find Ymir?" You couldn't help but notice that the blonde was alone.

"Yes! Funny story, she's downstairs with a few of our mutuals, let's go," Historia tugged on your arm eagerly. "I think you'll like them."

Your chest sank. Downstairs? How this all felt too convenient for you.

*********

With each step you took down the stairs you carefully watched your footing, making sure you didn't misstep since you were wearing heels. Because a trip to the ER would be such a mood killer.

The edge of your fingers ran along with the wooden frame of a pool table that you passed as both of you adventured to a separated area with the most commotion. There were barely any people on the lower floor as if it'd been off-limits and reserved for select individuals. This was a thought that came to mind as you followed behind Historia into the room where all of the chatter was being generated.

Sitting on the collection of l-shaped sofas, chatting amongst one another were a handful of people. No less than ten people give or take.

The air was smoky from a joint that'd been passed around, and steadily thumping in the background was the sound of a familiar song blasting away from upstairs. Out of all of the faces, you spotted Ymir's first.

"Historia, you retrieved (Y/N)! Get over here, we're about to start the game," Ymir waved both of you over.

"What game?" You asked, standing just outside the sectionals, avoiding all eye contact from everyone sitting in the dysfunctional circle.

"Spin the bottle," a guy with short silver hair interrupted, a bottle of fireball sloshing in his hand, "you do know how to play, right?"

"Yeah of course I do..." your eyes darted towards Ymir and Historia, and before you could respond, the man with silver hair continued speaking, grabbing your wrist in response.

"Bet! Sit with me," he sat down next to a girl with brunette hair and you sat between him and Historia. "What'd you say your name was again?"

"Connie, maybe if you weren't tipsy you'd be able to remember that their name is (Y/N)," the Brunette sitting beside him snorted a remark.

Connie whipped his head over his left shoulder towards the brunette, "mind your own business, Sasha."

Your eyes bounced around at the odd-shaped circle, momentarily landing on Jean who was sitting directly across from you. This was the first time you'd looked at him directly since entering the basement.

"There's one issue though, I don't know everyone's names," you gestured to everyone around the circle.

"I'll introduce you to everyone, (Y/N)," Historia spoke out, turning your attention to her.

The blonde quickly went around the circle, introducing you to everyone so you'd be up to speed. You could only hope that you wouldn't accidentally mess up anyone's name. You tried pinning each name to a slight detail about each person so you wouldn't forget.

"Everyone on the floor," Eren said, and by the single command, everyone got to the ground to sit together in a more functional circle.

Historia glanced up at you as you remained sitting on the couch, unsure if you truly wanted to participate. You made eye contact with her, and after staring at those pleading blue eyes of hers, found your way onto the floor yourself.

"We do things a little differently, you have the option to opt-out of a kiss by simply taking a shot," Eren said, his green eyes darting up at you after placing an empty bottle on the floor in the center of everyone.

"Got it."

As the game commenced, you were simply enjoying the observation of all of the combinations of kisses so far, and all of those who took a shot instead until eventually, it was your turn to spin the bottle.

Sitting up on your knees, you reached for the bottle, delicately placing your fingers on the glass. After giving the bottle a swift spin, you sat back watching with anticipation until the momentum began to die down and the bottle stopped completely.

The neck of the bottle aimed slightly off-center with Eren.

A twinge in your heart was evident for some unknown reason as you readied yourself for the kiss. Placing your hands on the floor, the two of you reached for one another until your lips met his chapped ones.

'One. Two. Three.'

You counted in your head until the kiss was over with. Sure, Eren was attractive enough, but kissing him surely didn't do anything for you. There was nothing else beneficial to the kiss beside the swapping of spit and the aftertaste of bitter booze from his lips. But, the kiss was still fun nonetheless, you guessed.

The turns continued around the circle counterclockwise, everything running smoothly like clockwork as you silently observed everything. That was until Jean reached for the bottle at the center of the circle once it was his turn.

"Go ahead with it, Jean boy," Eren nudged Jean with his elbow.

"Shut the hell up," Jean said, in an attempt to brush Eren off by giving the bottle a good spin.

Jean had already been kissed once so far, and that was when Connie's spin landed on him. Though Jean encouraged Connie to just take a shot, Connie refused, which resulted in a sloppy kiss between the two.

Your teeth sank into the inside of your lip, watching intently as the bottle spins rapidly in wild circles. Anticipation steadily digging away at your insides as the neck of the bottle begins to gradually come to a halt.

'On me?'

You surely were seeing things correctly, the neck of the bottle was pointing directly at you. There was no contemplation at all from Jean whether he skip the kiss and take a shot instead as he pushed himself up from his spot without hesitation.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as Jean crawled across the circle towards you, his light hazel eyes staring through you. There was hardly any time to acknowledge the fluttering sensation in your chest as he closed in.

"Hi," Jean greeted, "are you ready?"

With a head nod of confirmation, Jean slowly bobbed his head down, lips hovering over yours as you sat up straight to meet with him. The familiar scent of musky sheer cashmere, of him, infiltrate your nostrils as your lips finally connect.

A tingling sensation rippled across your body from the initial contact. Chills ran across your skin when Jean collected the side of your face into his hand, bringing you in closer towards him to deepen the kiss. There was a pull between both of you like you had to be closer to one another. Fighting the urge to run your hand through his ash brown hair, you twisted your palms together, keeping your hands to yourself as he held you in his hand, tongues overlapping in a passionate kiss.

His facial hair slightly tickled your skin, but you didn't care. All you cared about was how exciting the kiss was, what it was doing to you on the inside, how eye-opening it was.

The two of you didn't bother to pull away from the lip lock until the sound of a few wolf whistles from the others around the circle interrupted the moment.

You were the first to pull away from the kiss, brushing a thumb over your tingly kiss swollen lips.

After months of dating, Floch never kissed you like that, for that you were certain.

Breathless, the kiss left your head airy and your lungs empty, you were quietly fighting for air in your seat. A wave of heat circled through your body, emitting from your core.

Jean found his way back to his spot, turning to look at Eren who whispered something in his ear before Eren proceeded with his turn. Jean slumped against the couch behind him, allowing a heavy exhale to seep from his lips while his chest dropped and his hands lay flat in his lap as his hazel eyes stared at you lazily. A swift breath caught in the back of your throat as you maintained eye contact with him. A light shade of pink dusted a cast over his milky skin.

A few rounds and more mindless kisses later, none of them came anywhere close to Jeans. You were slightly hoping that you'd be kissed again like that for another time during the game, but it didn't happen.

***************

The wooden frame of the pool table from earlier pressed into your backside as you intently scrolled through Instagram with the last bit of battery percentage you had remaining. Floch's Instagram page. Entirely a bad idea to be stalking him like you were right now, but you reasoned with yourself that you just wanted to scroll through his pictures and see if he deleted all of the posts that had you in them as you'd down with yours respectively.

You knew it was a bad idea, but still, that didn't stop you. A pop-up warning you of your battery at ten percent should've been your final warning to stop stalking, but again, you didn't listen to reason.

"Hey, (Y/N)," a familiar voice cooed after the clicking of a door, causing a swarm of emotions to twist inside of you, "I didn't think you'd be back down here."

Turning your head to look at the stairs only to see Jean walking down them, you gave him a slight smile. After the basement cleared out after the rounds of spin the bottle was over with, you knew there'd be hard to no people left in the basement. So, when you wanted a little alone time to yourself, you knew the basement was the best option for you to stalk your ex.

"I didn't think you'd be back down here either," you admitted, lowering your phone slightly to look at him.

"My phone is missing, I think I accidentally left it down here earlier," his hair flopped on his forehead as he cleared the last two steps with a small jump to the floor, "what're you doing down here, playing pool by yourself?"

He teased, heading towards the area where all of you were collected earlier to play spin the bottle. You watched him from far away silently as he diligently searched for his phone. The temptation to help him search arose within you, but as soon as you were about to speak up, you paused, watching as he collected the device into his hand.

"Found it," he checked his cell before shoving it into his back pocket.

You shot him a faint congratulatory smile but stayed quiet.

Instead of heading back upstairs like you thought he would, he gravitated back towards you instead. Standing beside you, your eyes darted away from him as you noticed he was examining you.

"Are you okay, (Y/N)?"

Though you'd just been stalking your ex, it's not like you wanted to rant about him. To a stranger at that.

With a sigh, you shook your head, "kind of? I don't know," you tucked your phone away into your purse with a shrug.

"Not having any fun at the party or something?" His elbow bumped into your left arm with a slight playful nudge.

"It's not that," truly it wasn't that you weren't having fun, because you were.

The kiss you shared with Jean was the biggest thrill you'd had all night, scratch that, the biggest thrill you'd had all week. Almost something worthy enough to dream about. Because It's not like every day you share a mind-blowing kiss with a person you hardly knew.

"I came here to this party to get my mind off of a breakup, but being the loser I am, I'm standing here at a party dwelling over him," you cringed internally after the realization of how you'd just overshared a bit too much.

'Way to go.'

"Well, let's get your mind off of him," Jean took a step off to the side and collected two cue sticks, handing you one, "here."

"But, I don't know how to play pool," you replied, nervously accepting the cue stick.

The only time you played pool was the one time on your phone when you played against Ymir. You lost horribly as the board had been swept clean before you ever got a second turn. The terrible defeat resulted in you deleting the app for good. You haven't played any form of pool since.

"I can teach you as we go along," he offered, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

Jean began to rack all of the balls into the triangle holder, and you watched him mid-process. Noticing how his pants hugged at his hips and how his hair fell over his forehead effortlessly as he reached over the table. Which only reminded you of the incident from yesterday.

"Jean," you spoke, leaning against the cue stick.

Jean lifted his head to look up at you, his eyebrows lifted with a curious expression on his face, "yeah?"

"I just wanted to say sorry again for what happened yesterday, I was in a rush to get back to my dorm and..."

'And that's when Floch broke up with me.'

"Seriously don't sweat it, (Y/N)," he said, making you visibly relax. "It's not often I have a pretty girl run into me," his intense light brown eyes shot you a wink.

All extremities began to tingle as your skin felt ablaze. You turned your head, facing away from Jean to look at the other end of the pool table as your heart fastened in your chest.

"Okay, we're ready to go," Jean eventually spoke again, lifting the holder up and away from the formation of balls. "Would you like to be the one to break the set?"

"Uh... I guess I could give it a try," you said more as a question than a defined answer.

Immediately Jean situated the white cue ball on the opposite end of the table at your response. The cue stick fumbled in your hands after swapping places with Jean. Which he took a step back, observing you fully.

The inside of your lip fell under attack once you sunk your teeth into its sensitive flesh, trying your best to position the stick accordingly. The butt of the stick was held wrapped in your hand tightly as your other hand struggled to find a comfortable position to hold the tip of the stick. You eyed the cue ball down, remembering back to the one time you played pool digitally against Ymir.

This was definitely nothing like the phone game.

'How the hell do you hold this thing?'

Much to Jeans' amusement, he takes a step closer towards you until you can feel his body heat radiating from behind you.

"Try loosening your grip at the butt of the stick, and for your other hand," he chuckled as he viewed your fingers tangled around the thinner end of the stick, "hold the stick using your thumb and index finger, or your middle finger too for more support."

His instructions rambled through your head, resulting in you lowering the pool stick out of confusion. Turning your head to look at him, he took another step towards you.

"Can I..." Jean closed in on you, his waist brushing against you as he guides your hands over the stick with his, "here."

Sure it was a compromising situation from the outside looking in, but you knew it wasn't anything like that, what Jean was doing was just teaching you how to properly handle the cue stick. So why did your heartbeat fasten all of a sudden?

With Jean standing close behind you, you could drink in his musky scent. He was speaking, guiding your hands with his simultaneously, but you didn't hear anything clearly, only focusing on his hands felt on yours.

Jean guided your body gently into a proper stance, helping you aim down the stick. Through your peripheral vision, you noticed his eyes flicker back and forth from you to the task at hand through his ash-colored hair.

You still weren't entirely sure of what it was he was saying. Only when the balls somehow snapped and tumbled across the green-carpeted surface did you snap back to reality. With one look over your shoulder, Jean's eyes were immediately locked down on yours as he stood dangerously close behind you.

"Good job, I think you pocketed in a solid," his hazel orbs were speckled with a fire of emotion.

The proximity of his closeness was currently causing your heart to run laps through your chest. His body heat made your insides feel like putty.

"Thanks, Jean," your words fell from your lips weakly.

When his hazel eyes lowered to your lips, a sharp breath sucked through your mouth, noticing how his large hands were still lingering near your body. There was a shift in the air around both of you, naturally, the pool stick released from your grasp to roll out onto the table. His hands ventured along your body, hooking at your waist gently. He held onto you as you now faced him completely, your backside pressed against the pool table.

Jean lowered his head down, inching closer to your face, his breath fanning your neck, sending another chill up your spine. The bass from the music upstairs thumping in your ears rampantly, or was it your heart?

The pads of his fingers began toying with the small of your back as he held onto you. Your hands were pressed against his chest, feeling the sleek material of his black button-up shirt that covered his toned torso.

Like two forces being pulled together, Jean carefully placed his lips onto yours. In response, your hands trailed up his chest until they were wrapped around his neck, deepening the kiss. His soft lips against yours turned feverish like there was a dire need for more. Without breaking the intense lip lock, he swiftly lifted you by hooking his hands under your thighs and set you onto the edge of the pool table.

'Forget about Floch.'

A shiver tickled your spine as Jean broke away from the kiss to plant a trail of kisses on the crook of your neck, nibbling and sucking on your soft skin ever so slightly. A delicate moan escaped from your mouth from all the times Jean's lips kissed on your sweet spot.

"Jean," you breathed out with a pant, "what if someone walks in?"

Though you were trying to focus on having a good time, worrisome thoughts that someone could wander into the basement at any given moment and see both of you hooking up built a barrier in between you and having fun.

Jean pulled away to look at you through hooded lids, "let's hope they don't then for our sake," with one hand, he collects your chin, rubbing his thumb across your kiss swollen lips.

Sure, the thrill of messing around and the chance of getting caught excited you to a certain extent.

Your breath caught in the back of your throat as you stared at the man straddling you. His hips rocking between your legs in a tantalizing motion as he stared down at you beneath him through hooded lids.

Jean's free hand kneaded your thigh like dough, the crook of his thumb tucked at the band of your lace underwear, pulling them down your legs with ease. Discarding the sheer material after it'd been removed from your legs.

Down on his knees before you, Jean carefully led a trail of sweet open mouth kisses from your knee up from the inside of your thigh. His fingertips pushing the material of your dress upward along the way.

"Is this okay?" The heat of his words fans your exposed sex, causing your back to arch out of excitement.

"Mm..." you nod your head, incapable of forming a proper reply.

Your eyes flutter shut once his mouth closes in around your clit, his tongue dancing around in smooth motions against the bud that makes your core tighten. Naturally, you lay back against the pool table, managing to avoid any miscellaneous pool balls on the surface.

Both of his hands grip onto your hips from underneath your dress, moving around in tender circles to caress your body before he swipes his tongue between your soaking wet folds, gathering a taste of you. Another lick from his tongue starting from your core up to your clit has you panting lightly, practically begging for more.

His tongue centers on your clit once again, drinking you in as his tongue flicks rapidly against the bud, berating the nerves as you grind against his face. A thin layer of your slick coats the inside of your thighs as one of his fingers gently plunge into you. Without any hesitation, another one of his digits sinks into you, causing more friction.

His long fingers slide in and out of you, hitting your core in just the right way at perfect momentum. Pushing inside your spongy center at greater force while pulling out swiftly to repeat the process over and over again.

Your fingers tangle through his soft hair in intricate knots while holding onto him the only way you could.

"Jea... Jean," you breathed out a moan.

Hitting your core repeatedly as his tongue strokes and flicks in just the right spots, you finally began to feel your nerves bundle up in your core. It wouldn't be much longer at the pace he was going until he had you at your release.

"Don't stop, Jean," you groaned, almost begging him, "please."

That triggered Jean to grab ahold firmly onto your hip with his left hand, nails digging into your flesh as he fastened his pace both with his tongue and fingers. His fingers sloshed in and out, holding you against his face as your body couldn't take the pleasure anymore.

Eventually, you began to unravel, coming undone as you moaned out his name breathlessly, clenching around his fingers as the pent up nerves rippled through you. Jean planted sweet supple kisses against your clit, sucking slightly as his fingers slowed inside of you at a tantalizing pace while you rode out on your wave of release for as long as you could.

Just as you thought you'd found your end, Jean lifted his face away and replaced his mouth with his thumb. The ball of his thumb kneaded away in rough circles around your sensitive clit as his fingers inside of you picked up in speed. You squirmed under the immense pleasure that was almost unbearable as he milked you to the last drop until the same pent up nerves in your core began to build again. You fell at his mercy, slashing around, moaning outcries of bliss as you ruptured again for a second time, palpitating around the width of his large fingers.

Your heartbeat was ringing in your ears as your weight relaxed against the table. Your legs had gone completely numb.

Wobbly breaths exhaled from your lips as Jean carefully retracted his hand. Your eyelashes flutter open from the absence of his fingers, only to watch him push one finger after the next into his mouth, sucking your coat of slick off of his digits. Jean nudged his thumb across the corner of his mouth, wiping the excess fluid away.

Before anyone had the chance to walk through the door, you struggled to stand up straight after sliding off of the side of the pool table. At the same time Jean stood up from his crouched position, your bodies practically pressed together. You couldn't help but notice the prominent bulge in his pants as he'd been lingering against you.

Tugging your dress down to adjust yourself, you patted the material to eliminate any wrinkles after sliding on your underwear. Jean stopped to brush his knuckles against your cheek, you couldn't help but think how pleasing it felt to have his cool skin against your burning cheek. His hand folded, his palm cupping against your face as he dipped down to plant a dainty kiss on your lips. Your breathing was still unsteady as you paused to return the kiss.

His bangs tumbled over his forehead while his thumb smoothly raked over your bottom lip after your lips finally disconnected from one another. Ash brown locks dangled in your field of vision, clouding the definition of his face.

Jean tilted his chin, lifting his head slightly to the point where you could finally see the features of his face clearly. The corners of his lips were pinned up into a diminutive smile and a light shade of pink dusted his skin. You couldn't help but smile in response.

Was this your way of getting over a breakup? Hooking up with someone you hardly knew? You couldn't care enough to dwell over the thought.

Just as you were about to say something, the prominent buzz of waves of vibration emitting from your purse caused you to forget the words you had forming in your head. With eyes wide open, you broke out of the trance, searching for your bag that had fallen from your arm.

You mouthed an apology to Jean while struggling to answer your phone.

"Historia-"

"(Y/N), where are you? I've been looking for you because Ymir's drunk and I need help carrying her back to the dorm," Historia spoke over the sound of music in the background. You happened to catch the sound of Ymir groaning some nonsense as well.

"I'll meet you outside near the front door," you managed to say before all sound on the opposite end of the call ceased.

You pulled your phone away from your ear, noticing a completely black screen. Your phone finally died on you.

You were just lucky you'd happen to hear and speak with Historia before your phone went dead. Or what if she didn't manage to hear you?

"Shit."

A sudden urgency burned through you. You needed to go upstairs and meet with Ymir and Historia immediately.

"I have to go, Historia and Ymir are waiting for me upstairs," you managed to say before putting your phone away.

In return Jean took a step away from you, allowing you the space to break free from the pool table. Leaving no time to talk, you formed a beeline straight for the stairs. Jean clasped a hand around your wrist, stopping you mid-step on the second step of the staircase.

Turning around, you looked down at him as he stared up at you.

"So much for that game of pool, (Y/N)," he teased, the smallest playful smirk on his lips. "I'd like to believe you would've won."

A faint heartfelt laugh fell from your lips after hearing his comment, "bye, Jean," you said, and Jean freed your wrist from his grasp.

The tug at your heart was evident as you trailed up the stairs, leaving Jean in the dust behind you. You didn't want to leave the party just yet, you didn't want to leave Jean. Definitely not after having such a mind-blowing hookup. But, by putting your wants aside on the back burner, you knew you had to leave and help Historia out.

[nugnthopkns]

take the sadness out of saturday night

word count: 2.8k 

warnings: insinuated fem!reader, a couple of curse words, alcohol consumption, vaguely described feelings of inadequacy 

recommended listening: chinatown | bleachers featuring bruce springsteen

a/n: will i ever write anything more than 3k? probs not. also this baby is completely self indulgent but i don’t even care

All you want to do is sleep. Or drink an entire bottle of wine. Maybe both. 

Graduate school is a lot harder than you expected it to be. You obviously weren’t naïve enough to think it be as easy as your undergrad, but you didn’t think it would be like this. It’s competitive; with people doing whatever it takes to get ahead. You’ve almost had your thesis topic stolen twice. The workload is also incredibly different. Gone are the days of small tests and assignments: everything relies on your thesis paper being of the utmost quality. You feel like you’re drowning in the middle of the ocean.

Today was the worst in a succession of terrible days. On the way to campus you dropped your coffee but didn’t have enough time to get another one. The conditions didn’t get any better once you reached school. Your lunch got left behind on the kitchen island and your advisor didn’t show up for your meeting, putting you another two weeks behind schedule. To top it off, you left campus later than usual and caught in the horrendous Philadelphia traffic. By the time you reach your apartment complex you’re thoroughly exhausted and two seconds away from crying. 

How you can afford your current lodging is beyond you. Tuition is waived by the university, which certainly helps, but you’re mostly relying on loans. It will be a bitch to pay off in a few years, but you don’t have any other option. The building isn’t ridiculously flashy, with semi-outdated furnishing, but it’s in a central location that anyone in Philly would kill for. Every day you wake up grateful there isn’t an eviction notice on your door; though you’re very careful to pay rent on time. Only the small lamp in the entryway is on when you unlock the door, but you keep it that way. Kicking off your sneakers and haphazardly hanging up your jacket, you shuffle into the bedroom portion of the studio. The pyjamas tucked under the pillow are calling your name, and it feels so good to free yourself of business casual clothing. 

The next stop on your mad-dash around in order to plant yourself on the couch as quickly as possible is the bathroom. You scrub your face vigorously, knowing you’ll pay for it in a few days when a breakout appears, but you can’t find it within you to care. It feels so good to be clean and in control of a situation. The kitchen is where you meander to next, filling the largest glass you can find with rosé. A bag of candy is grabbed as well, and then you’re tucking yourself into the corner of the couch and piling on the blankets. You open Netflix and briefly debate what to watch before deciding on something you’ve seen a million times before that won’t require your full attention.

Half an hour into the film you get hungry, but with no ambition to cook for yourself. Take out it is. You place an order at your favourite sushi joint and lazily return your gaze to the T.V. The scene on the screen no longer appeals to you, so you dig around the cushions to find your phone. It’s been a while since you’ve called your mom and you know she’s been missing you; truth be told you miss her a resounding amount. Philadelphia is a long ways from home and you can’t afford to travel often. Not being near your pillar of support is definitely wearing on you. She picks up on the fifth ring. 

“Hello?”

A tear slips out at the sound of her voice. Yours catches in your throat slightly, and your response is garbled. “Mom,” it breaks at the end, and the tears quickly turn into a waterfall. 

“Oh honey,” she sighs, chest filling with pain at your apparent despair. “What’s the matter?”

You sob for a minute or two before it subsides enough for you to actually speak. Through hiccups and sniffles you detail your horrible week, and the one before that for good measure. Your mom stays silent, listening with intent, and the one sided conversation eventually turns into you fretting about how you feel inadequate in your academic community and how you can’t picture a future. Only once you’ve ran out of words does she speak, negating the argument put in place by your imposter syndrome and doing her best to inflate your ego. 

“You’ve earned your seat at the table Y/N,” she says with conviction. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you deserve to be there. You’re cut out for this; no one is more passionate about their work than you.”

Another hiccup slips past your lips as you respond. “Thanks Mom.”

You don’t have to see her to know she’s sporting a smile. “We’re so proud of you honey, and always will be. No matter what you decide to do. Hell, you could move to Peru to become an alpaca farmer and your dad and I would be the happiest parents on Earth.”

The comment is meant to make you laugh, citing the time you called her during your undergrad to inform her you were dropping out and moving to the Andes. It works. You can’t help it, and have to admit it feels good after days of negative feelings. She distracts you further, recounting a story about your youngest brother’s recent baseball game that ended with a trip to the hospital after an unfortunate sliding incident. You wince at the mention of the basemen’s cleat colliding with his ankle, and chuckle when she talks about Connor singing showtunes in the recovery room. The story swapping continues, and it brings comfort. If you close your eyes you can envision yourself sitting on your mom’s bed, hiding your face in a pillow when anything embarrassing happens. 

A knock at your door ends your conversation, and the sadness slowly trickles back into your bones. “Mom, I’ve gotta go. The delivery person is here.”

“Okay sweetie. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Having lost track of time, you’re wildly unprepared to pay for your food. “One minute,” you yell in the direction of the front door, praying the person on the other side heard you. You root around your wallet for the appropriate amount of cash before sliding across the floor and unlocking the door handle. The person standing there is not in fact a food delivery service worker, but your neighbour from across the hall, holding what you presume to be your dinner. 

“Nolan?” 

To say you’re shocked is an understatement. Though you’d go as far to say the two of you are casual acquaintances, he’s never shown up unannounced on your doorstep. Most of your interactions take place in the elevator or hallway, and you’ve only been inside his apartment once when you left your keys in your advisor’s office. Being a professional hockey player means he typically isn’t around a lot, but you had learned from a friend he’s spending the season sidelined by an injury. He still hasn’t been around a lot from what you could tell. 

His low rumble catches you off guard for a millisecond but it doesn’t take long to adjust. “They, uh, sent it to the wrong door,” he mumbles, holding out the bag to illustrate his point. 

“Fuck,” you swear. “Sorry. How much do I owe you?” A ballpark figure is in your brain, but you aren’t above throwing in a few extra dollars for the inconvenience. No one wants to receive their neighbour’s food. 

Nolan shakes his head profusely and shoves his hands in his pockets when you try to slip the money into them. “It’s on the house,” he shrugs. “Think of it as an apology for being a shit neighbour these past couple of months.”

“You’re a great neighbour Nolan. I have no complaints.” He returns your smile but doesn’t speak. An awkward tension fills the air between you, almost as if each of you is waiting for the other to talk. 

“Well I’ll let you –”

“Would you like some company?”

The question stops you dead in your tracks. A look of bewilderment must appear on your face because Nolan starts blabbering. “It’s just that you looked upset when you came to the door, like you’ve been crying. I can also see the nearly empty bottle of wine on the counter and that’s never a good sign.” He pauses for a second to take a breath before blurting out a final sentence. “And there’s a game tonight and if I don’t distract myself from it I think I might die.” Ragged breathing punctuates the sudden stoppage, and when you look up to meet his eyes you feel a sense of desperation. 

Without saying anything you open the door wider and retreat into the unit, hoping he gets the hint. It takes him all of two seconds to follow you, quickly darting across the hall to lock his door. You’re at the fridge when he returns, and turn around to ask him what he’d like to drink. 

“It seems like an alcohol kind of night,” you chuckle. “What are you having?”

He looks at you sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. “Could I have a glass of that rosé?” 

You nod and gesture for him to pass you the bottle. “Never pegged you as a wine drinker,” you comment as you fill his cup. 

“Travis teases me relentlessly so I don’t keep it at the house anymore. Can only drink it in private.”

At the mention of his teammate’s name you understand. It’s exhausting to fit into someone’s mould of you. “Your secret is safe with me.”

The two of you migrate to the couch and once again become shrouded in silence. It’s comfortable this time, as you nurse your glasses and watch the skyline. Just having someone by your side is enough to quell the upset you’ve felt all day. You wonder why you hadn’t sought Nolan out sooner. It seems he’s been in a similar situation; having terrible days and feeling alone. Conversation only comes once he realizes both your drinks are empty. Nolan opens the fridge to find one more bottle of wine; a cheap, fruity one that’s meant to taste like a cooler. It’s strawberry flavoured, which equal parts thrills and disgusts him. He’s thrown back to his first high school party, when this was the only alcohol he could get his friends’ older sisters to buy him.

“I feel like I’m sixteen again,” he laughs, not bothering to fill his glass. Instead, he swigs from the bottle before reaching over the back of the couch and placing in your lap. You follow his lead, drinking directly from the vessel.

“Don’t judge me,” you huff. “I like the way it tastes.”

Nolan gazes sideways at you before dropping his voice to a near whisper. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

In a streak of boldness that came from god knows where, you place a hand on top of his. He doesn’t retract but doesn’t push forward either. You’re too scared to do anything else, and soon retract your hand and place it in your lap. “So,” you cough. “You need a distraction?”

☀☀☀☀

One comedy special turned into three, and it’s safe to say both you and Nolan are feeling exponentially better than when he knocked on your door. The alcohol flowed until you ran out, but neither of you are drunk. Perhaps tipsy; most definitely content. It’s so nice to enjoy someone’s company without the pressure of maintaining a perfect appearance. Nolan must feel it too, because he slowly begins to open up, talking about his career and ambitions for a life after hockey. You sit quietly, much like your mother had done hours before, as he describes his frustration with the migraines and how he yearns to bond with his teammates.

“I’m just so scared this is it, that I’m done,” he hiccups. 

You tentatively shuffle closer to him, looking for signs that he’s uncomfortable. Once you’re squished beside him, shoulder to shoulder, you take yet another page from your mother’s book. “If tonight is a good indicator of who you are, then you, Nolan Patrick, are going to be just fine. Seems to me that this is nothing but a bump in the road. You’re destined for greatness.”

He smiles, possibly the first completely real one he’s given you all night, and it reaches his eyes. “You really think that?”

“Absolutely. Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t believe it to be true. You see, in my line of work, truth is of the utmost importance.”

At Nolan’s incessant prodding you talk about school, your thesis, and what you hope to achieve. It doesn’t sting the way you thought it would, possibly because you’re speaking to someone who’s completely enamored with the topic. Academia clearly fascinates Nolan, though he makes it clear he has no interest in joining the community. The only way you can describe the feeling of explaining everything to him is refreshing; he asks insightful questions about your research and isn’t bogged down by the technicalities like so many of your fellow scholars. When you’ve exhausted all you can say and Nolan’s ‘poked’ holes in all of your theories, he gets a serious look and turns so your body is framed by his. 

In this position there’s no denying how attractive he is. Of course you’ve always found him easy to look at when you passed in the halls, but knowing him as intimately as you now do makes you realize how much you like him. “Come to a game with me?” he asks. 

Your rhythm is once again thrown off by the man in front of you. “A game?”

Nolan nods enthusiastically. “A game. I’ve been meaning to go to one for a while, but I can’t find the courage to go alone. The next home game is on Tuesday, but we can obviously go to another one when it fits your schedule. If you want to come, that is.”

He’s yet to be this excited about hockey all night, and who are you to deny your newfound friend something he wants so badly? “Tuesday’s perfect Nolan.” He pumps his fist in happiness and you giggle at his antics. 

“I’m so happy I could kiss you.” It slips out before he realizes, and the shock on his face lets you know it was an accident. 

“You can if you want.”

You’re surprised at your own boldness, but don’t have much time to read into what the statement could mean because Nolan’s leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The moment his lips touch yours it feels like a homecoming. He’s gentle but firm, letting you know he doesn’t want this to be a one time thing without saying anything at all. Nolan brings to you a sort of warmth that settles in your chest that makes you truly content with how life is going. You lose yourself in him, letting your heart steer the ship. He never waivers from you, only pulling back slightly to card his fingers through your hair. They settle at the nape of your neck and make shivers tingle your spine. You’re impossibly close, but you wish it would never end. After what feels like a millennia you break apart, chests heaving slightly from the lack of oxygen. 

You can’t find the words, but you know you never want to be without Nolan again. All the anguish you experienced earlier feels light years away after a few short hours of truly knowing him. It seems that he’s on the same page, because Nolan makes no effort to remove himself from the situation. In fact, he seems perfect content to never move again: arm comfortably around your shoulder as he places a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. 

“So is Tuesday a date now?” You squeak, voice small. You’re worried you’ve ruined the moment, but he cuts off your overthinking with a squeeze your bicep. 

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” he replies, and you know he means it. 

You can’t help yourself and slot your lips against his once again. “I’d like that a lot. There’s one condition though: I want to meet Gritty.”

Nolan’s laugh echoes off the walls and sounds like the sweetest melody you’ve ever heard. “Think I can manage to pencil you in to the schedule. It has a soft spot for me.”

As he reaches for the remote to put on highlights of the game that’s well over, you shuffle to rest your head comfortably in his lap. Your fingers find his and lazily combine. Nolan mumbles something you don’t quite catch, something about a play Travis made, but you hum in agreement anyways. He’s most likely right. Your eyes begin to droop, and as you fall asleep you forget why you were even sad in the first place. 

☀☀☀☀

taglist: @jamiedrysdales​ if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

[ask-sensei-lord-garmadon]

There and Back Again - Pt 1

Word Count: 1054

Brief Summary: Exploring what the main team has been up to (Garmadon, Clouse, Skylor, Goonie, Lloyd, and the main 4) while we’ve been with Nya and the Facility Crew. As they finish packing for Garmadon and his team to move into Chen’s old and rotting Monastery, Clouse continously fails to get ahold of Master Chen, who stayed behind at the Noodle Shop. That is, until...

CW: General fighting, no blood, daggers/knives

! THIS IS GOING TO BE POSTED IN MULTIPLE PARTS, 1,000 WORDS AT A TIME FOR EASY READABILITY !

The low humming of the car engine broke the silence of the early morning air; it was nearing 5 AM now. Nobody on the team had slept on account of the roughly 3 AM break-in at Chen’s Noodles, and it didn’t look like anybody was about to sleep soon. In the front of the car, Garmadon sat with the Overlord within a cookie jar on his lap. Clouse sat beside him in the driver’s seat, tirelessly calling Master Chen’s number and getting no response repeatedly. In the middle row, Lloyd, Kai, Cole, and Jay sat. Jay was laying on the floorboard beneath the 3, quietly showing the others a few memes on his “for you” page every once in a while. In the back-- the trunk-- sat Zane, Skylor, and the now-dubbed ‘Goonie’. Skylor and Zane tried to commence small-talk, trying to include the goon, but were shut down each time by either a scoff or low growl.

“He’s not answering,” Clouse muttered as he dialed he and Garmadon’s Master again, “He’s either with the serpent or…” “I am positive he’s alright, Clouse.” Garmadon reached across one of his hands to rest on Clouse’s shoulder, a tired smile on his face, “It’s Chen. He can handle anything thrown at him.”

-

“THIS IS GETTING RIDICULOUS!” Chen shouted as he threw a pan at one of the masked figures currently invading his store. Only thirty minutes after Clouse had left to pick up Skylor, the entire restaurant had been invaded by more of The Dragon’s goons. They had orange masks, much like the goon that had threatened them with a knife earlier, though the five in the store only possessed one set of horns beneath their hoods instead of two. 

“Do not,” One of the taller goons caught the pan Chen had thrown, “Resist.”

Another pan flew into the goon’s face, causing them to topple over backward and onto the ground. A smaller goon, only about 3 feet tall, jumped over the other and began running at Chen, resulting in them promptly getting kicked in the gut and sending them flying through the shop’s window onto the street.

“GAH! What are you all made out of?! You could have broken my toes!” Chen wailed, grasping the foot he had kicked with and hobbling on the other. One of the goons immediately took the chance to kick Chen’s foot out from under him, making the man shriek and fall onto the floor. He blinked and found a dagger pointed at his face, making him let out a shrill laugh.

“... What is so--” The goon was cut off by Chen grabbing their wrist and yanking them to the side, making them stumble. Chen immediately used the force of their movement to pull himself upward, making them fall onto the floor in response. Chen kicked the dagger out of their hand and into the air, catching it by the handle and digging his feet into the carpeted floor as he looked toward the other goons. He held the knife toward the remaining two that were standing, a flashy grin on his face.

“Well, come on now! Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to do something?!” Chen gawked, waving the dagger around like he knew how to use it. The two remaining goons, who looked identical, glanced to one another before seemingly laughing. They hooked their arms together before running at Chen, who panicked and immediately ducked down, narrowly avoiding being swept back onto the floor. The two goons did not pause for a moment before one of them swung the other directly at Chen, pinning him to the ground. The goon held the side of his face against the floor and pinned his arms behind his back, making the man grunt and drop the dagger.

“Something was done.” The goon said with a hint of amusement in their voice, before clearing their throat and moving to stand. They stood on top of Chen, who winced at the sound of his phone ringing again, a loud ear-piercing pop song Clouse almost always hummed along to on the radio-- not that he’d ever admit he did such a thing. Clouse always had to call at the worst of times, didn’t he? Not five minutes could he go without his own pupil patronizing over him like some overbearing parent! … However, for the first time Chen could remember, this might help him.

“You’re-- You’re looking for my pupil, Garmadon, are you not?” Chen said with a wry smile on his face, the goon above him glancing to their ‘twin’ before nodding. Chen laughed dryly and motioned to the phone on the counter with a nod of his head.

“That’s my other pupil, Clouse, calling. I can tell by the ringtone I had my beloved daughter set! I am sure we could arrange a deal of sorts, I know for a fact he’s with Garmadon.” Chen almost seemed to purr, then goon above him gesturing to the other to grab the phone. The goon’s doppelganger swiped the phone from the counter and lowered it down near Chen’s face, answering the call and putting it on speaker. The other goons, which had since recovered -- the smallest one climbing back into the store -- then huddled around to listen to the conversation.

//

“Master Chen? Finally you pick up-- Are you alright, or did you get caught up on one of your phone-games again? Or were you with the serpent? Or--”

 “Clouse! I am fine! … I do thank you for checking up on me, however, that was very… Kind of you.” Chen answered as casually as he could, trying to make it seem as if he weren’t carefully picking his words.

“... Yes. Of course. Well-- Me and the others will be there shortly, we’re only a few blocks away. I’ll let you know what all has transpired once we get there.”

“Of course! I will eagerly await your arrival, don’t dilly-dally! I want to know every little thing that’s happened while you went to pick up Skylor! I really want to know what you goons have been up to!” Chen forced a laugh, the goons above him nodding their heads and signing amongst themselves as to what their plan would be.

“Right, well… See you soon.”

And then Clouse hung up. He didn’t trust anything of what his Master had just said.

[ectonurites]

so..... streamer tim au...... my eyes and ears are wide open......

okay so prefacing this with the fact that i have never actually watched any streamers the closest thing was my irl friend who TRIED to be a streamer and failed miserably and one time me and my roommate and my boyfriend watched his stream and interacted with him not revealing it was us to both support and vaguely mock him (hes kinda a dick. more of an acquaintance from dnd stuff than a friend) BUT:

tim playing every superhero related game (i KNOW the Death of Superman videogame that exists irl is also real in canon because Kon mentions it several times) + him also playing that freakazoid game he played during YJ #53

Like I think in general he’d probably stream a lot more older games, any game that has a skateboarding function, and then also like Minecraft because it’s a classic. 

actually kinda unrelated but in my high school this one guy did a project our senior year where he made a to-scale recreation of our entire town in Minecraft using actual satellite data (this kid had also been our class president but did JACK SHIT WHEN HE WAS CLASS PRESIDENT. BUT HE COULD MAKE OUR WHOLE TOWN IN MINECRAFT) and I’m amused by imagining Tim trying to do something like that with parts of Gotham

i think for the most part he would stream stuff alone and due to the fact that like, if I’m placing this around the time he’s at Brentwood (again I’m kinda using the ‘its harder for him to go out as Robin as frequently since. Boarding School, thus he has a bit more time to fuck around and play video games’ idea) and it’s shortly after No Man’s Land, people like, are recognizing who Timothy Drake is by his face bc he was on the news for being missing so he’d be able to actually get a pretty decent following pretty quickly. Possibly Ives would hop on sometimes too though bc he’s also a huge nerd.

Then, if I am placing this as starting in the Brentwood era, The YJ kids (and also Steph!) don’t actually know Tim is Robin yet. Which is hilarious to imagine, like, them watching him stream games or some shit for a while and then once they connect the dots being like WAIT. MOTHERFUCKER. THAT WAS YOU?? Once they know though they spam the shit out of his chat and make his life hell but in an endearing way

Bruce is also not amused because this puts a higher profile on Tim which could jeopardize their identities however he knows Tim’s under a lot of stress all the time always and this seems to be something fun he enjoys doing so he doesn’t say anything. He watches his streams sometimes in the cave as background noise while doing other stuff.

I think Tim’d probably end up stopping doing any of it around when War Games happened if not a bit earlier, because just… The energy is gone. He can’t pretend to be okay on stream for all that and just loses the drive to do any of it, and especially considering the next several years just get worse and worse for him, it was probably a good time to call it quits.

which then

Years later, like, after Red Robin & stuff, I love the idea of Damian stumbling on all of it by accident when trying to dig up embarrassing shit on Tim and actually really ending up liking watching him play? kinda… humanizing Tim more for him I guess. Because Damian in pre-new 52 times really sees Tim as a rival and a jerk, but seeing him actually be a goofy kid doing something like that… could be cool. Give a bit different of a perspective. Also Damian being competitive and wanting to test his skills against Tim in a game leading to:

Damian casually dropping hints around Tim that he also likes video games (cheese viking cheese viking) and Tim honestly hadn’t even thought about his streaming and video game stuff in years because god life got hectic, and they end up going to an arcade together to have some brotherly fighting in games and it’s actually very fun 

and can kinda… become their thing. They still fight all the time, they’re still not particularly close because there’s so much baggage to unpack there, BUT them having video games together as kind of a common ground and also it lets them beat the shit out of each other in a way without physical harm since its just in a game 

anyways thank u for coming to my TED talk

[konohababy]

a losing game | iwaizumi h.

warnings: mentions of sex but nothin explicit word count: 1.2k notes: cliché plot line but i wanted to do my take on it bc i just be writing out here,, but i suggest listening to this song by NIKI while ur at it too :)

‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.°

I love you.

The words claw at Iwaizumi’s throat every time your fingers brush against his, desperate and hot as his mouth drags along the delicate skin of your neck. He’d say it a million times over if you’d let him, kissing poems onto your lips that’ll leave you breathless even after you leave his apartment in the morning. He’d burn the words into your memory if he could, writing you love letters to list out the reasons why he broke his promise, and why he’s been lying to you about it ever since. But instead, he’s leaving bite marks across your body, figuring that the shallow bruises of blue and purple are as close to bleeding droplets of ink as he can get. He’s pressing your back against that one awfully gray wall of his apartment, knee between your legs as you reach for the button of his jeans and he’s thinking that this is as good as it’ll ever be. He wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you, you’d made that clear. But he did anyway, crossing that line only to find himself straying further and further from it each time you show up at his door. 

I love you.

It’s just sex. Iwaizumi’s heard the words spill from your lips countless times before and he supposes it’s his fault he never really listens. To him, you’re more than just a fuck. He wants to be able to walk down the street with his hand in yours, his name laced into your heartstrings. He wants to hold you when your clothes are on, your chests touching through heavy fabric, and know that at the end of the day you won't be walking out the door to a life that doesn't involve him. He wants to write you those love letters, those poems, and not have you regret a single word of it. He wants you, all of you, but he finds that there will never be a good time to tell you this. 

I love you.

There’s a shift after he introduces you to Takahiro Hanamaki, something that can only be compared to the feeling of moving all the furniture in your house two steps to the left—the feeling that things aren’t quite the same as before. Because the way you look at Hajime now pales in comparison to the way you look at Makki, eyes gleaming with a certain brilliance that Iwa had once thought was reserved for him. Your sleepovers at his apartment begin to lessen, with you instantly scrambling to gather your things the moment you catch your breath. The kisses you press against his jawline afterwards are absentminded, no longer filled with the care and sweetness they used to have. You start to flake on the dick appointments you set up, apologizing profusely over the phone because Makki’s always somewhere waiting on you. He knows it’s because you’re better, happier with his strawberry blond friend, and Iwa’s in no position to feel pissed about such a thing but if he’s digging his own grave then fuck it. Seeing you fall in love with someone else will never sit right with him, but it’s not his job to love you.

I love you.

Iwa’s gotten skilled at pushing the words back down his throat, letting them die in his stomach before they ever pass his lips. Things are beginning to get serious between you and Takahiro, according to what the boys tell him. It’s only solidified on the days Iwa’s hips still against yours and you’re pressing your foreheads together, panting, whispering something along the lines of, "We shouldn't be doing this." But you still continue to show up at his door and he’ll still continue to dig the whorls of his fingertips into your body, pushing himself inside you as you breathe out his name and clutch onto his arms. He knows it’s stupid to get his hopes up during these moments, for searching for meaning between your soft smiles and gentle laughs, but the words he wants to hear never leave your mouth and it’s enough for him to know it’s just his imagination. He’s playing a losing game now, one where you’re pulling all the strings and peeking at his cards, and he won’t hesitate to play into your hands time and time again if it means you’ll stick around for just a moment longer. 

I love you.

“You can always stay the night, by the way,” Iwa breathes out one night, collapsing into bed beside you. “It’s not like you’ve never done it before.”

You turn to face him, face aglow with the aftermath of sex before pressing an apologetic kiss to his lips. “You know I can’t. Makki’s waiting for me.”

Iwa scoffs, sitting himself up in bed as you rise to gather your clothes off of the floor. “Makki didn’t just fuck you into oblivion either.”

A teasing smile pulls at your lips then, glancing at him after you shuffle your shirt over your head and tug on your pants. “Look, Haji, I know you’re in love with me, but I gotta go.”

It’s a just a joke to you, but he wonders if you know that it’s also nothing but the truth. Iwa slumps against his headboard and tugs the blanket over the lower half of his naked body as he presses on. “If I admit it, will you stay?”

“Nope,” You grin, narrowing your eyes at him with a challenge. “But I’m not opposed to hearing it.”

He watches you fix yourself in the mirror, patting your unruly hair into place and smoothing out your clothes, erasing any hint that you’ve been here with him. He swallows, hating how much the gesture makes his heart ache.

“What’s the point if I know I won’t hear it back?”

You grab your keys from his bedside table, smiling. “Try me.”

He bites his tongue. 

I love you.

“Get going idiot, before he realizes something’s up.”

You laugh then, offering him one last kiss before you’re sliding out the door, leaving him alone in his apartment. He closes his eyes, picturing your bare figure beneath his sheets, glowing in the silver moonlight as the shadows of his blinds drift across your skin. He's imagining your shoes sitting in their usual spot by the front, your bag tossed casually on his kitchen counter, and your favorite flavor of ice cream sitting in the freezer—an image of something close to a domestic life with you. He knows it’s out of reach, but he’ll keep pretending for as long as you let him.

I love you.

It’s not until another two months pass that you decide you’re done playing.  You’re folding your cards and cutting the strings, throwing Hanamaki’s hoodie back over your head one winter morning as you’re getting ready to leave the warmth of Iwa’s apartment after an accidental sleepover. He’s observing you in silence from the kitchen table as he sips on his coffee, noting the way your eyes dull at the sight of yourself in the hallway mirror, how you sheepishly fix your hair back into place, fingertips distant and face solemn. There's light breaking around your shoulders when you reach for the door, turning towards him ever so slightly as your gaze drops to the ground.

"This is the last time, Iwaizumi," is the only thing that you manage to say in the moment.

And despite the fact that he's heard those words before, he can only nod in response. He knows you mean it this time. And all the words he's been meaning to say seem to get caught in his throat as you step outside and gently close the door behind you.

I love you.

[plus-size-reader]

Robbing the Cradle

Dean Winchester x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1932 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Dean falls in love with a younger reader, and really struggles with it.

——————————————————————————————————

Dean had put up a huge fight when it came to you, at least at first. 

He didn’t want to be in love with you, and he didn’t want to admit how happy you made him. He didn’t want to but clearly that didn’t change the fact that he had fallen so deeply in love with you that he couldn’t dig himself out.

You were nothing more than a child, at least as far as he was concerned. You were only twenty-two years old, practically still in pampers and he felt weird about it.

After all, why didn’t you want to be with a man your own age? Didn’t you want to have a normal relationship? Why would you want to be with someone like him when someone better was right around the corner. 

Dean wasn’t the most thoughtful, or well adjusted man in the world, and that wasn’t a secret. 

He knew that there was someone who could be better for you.

Still, you showed no interest in anyone other than him. It shocked the man to his core, that you never once talked about what you were missing out on, or wanting to do anything other than what you were doing. 

He just didn’t get it.

From Dean’s point of view, you should have been desperate to get out and experience life but who better to show it to you than Dean? That was the only thing that you ever said when he brought it up. 

You just didn’t understand how he could ever worry about something like that. After all, how many guys your age were going state-to-state, hunting monsters and saving lives?

Dean Winchester was one in a million...whether he chose to believe it or not.

Take today for example, you had tagged along with Sam and Dean to track down a poltergeist that was committing a series of gory murders in a small town. 

It had been a ridiculously stressful hunt, and it could have been dangerous but you had never felt more alive. You were obsessed with the thrill of the hunt. In fact, there was only one thing you liked more.

...And that was drinking. 

You had learned early on that going to the bar with the guys after a hard case was the best way to unwind. There was honestly nothing like it and you had never passed up a chance to go after everything was over. 

Which was good, considering the fact that Dean also really liked to hit the bar when he was stressed. 

...But he wasn’t the only one. 

There were a ton of guys with really hard lives and things they’re running from. Everyone had things they were trying to forget and liquor just aided in that journey. 

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only thing liquor did. 

It also made some men lose their tact, which with a beautiful woman around, was never good. It was a bad combo and Dean was really figuring that out tonight. 

“What’s wrong Dean?” you wondered, in a sing-song tone, even going so far as to throw your arm over his shoulder casually. 

The action was a little goofy with the slight drinking you’d been doing but you were in no way drunk. 

You had just been trying to get him to play pool for an hour now and tonight he was practically a bump on a log. 

...It was no fun at all. 

Especially not considering how much fun Dean was when he was in a good mood. You just missed it tonight, and you had no idea what was on his mind.

  “Nothing’s wrong, just got a lot on my mind” he tried, but you knew better. 

He may have been older than you but sometimes his pouting made you doubt it. You and Dean had been together for too long for that to work. 

The two of you had nearly died today and all he could think about was the hunt. It was kind of unbelievable. 

However, you were missing the biggest part of this whole thing. You had no idea but you and Dean weren’t alone in your casual affection. At some point, you had caught the attention of a group of strangers. 

...But you hadn’t noticed yet. 

You thought that there was something wrong with you, or that he was bored of your company. 

“Please Dean? Can’t we just play? I wanna have a good time and forget about the monsters” you begged, your voice nothing more than a purr in his ear. You were desperate for a little fun, especially after such a long and stressful day.

Though, you still didn’t know that across the bar stood that group of younger guys, not much older than you are. 

They’d had their eyes on you since you two walked in, and it was really starting to bother Dean.

He couldn’t stand it. 

Dean had been around the block before, and he had been that sort of guy. He knew that they were talking about him, and that they were weighing their options about what their chances were with you. 

They thought that he had robbed the cradle, and they were planning on taking you away from him...and why wouldn’t you go?  They were young, and built and they could offer you the world.  

How was he supposed to compete with that?

“I’m not really in the mood tonight, why don’t you play without me?” he suggested, waving over to the table begrudgingly. He felt bad about it but he just couldn’t fake it tonight. 

These were the sorts of things that really got to him about the age gap that you two had. Other people constantly had their eyes on you, as if you didn’t know what you were missing out on. 

Though, you both knew that wasn’t the case. 

As far as you were concerned, you weren’t missing out on anything, and Dean didn’t ever get that far. He was fully in love with you, and as long as you wanted to be with him, he would take it. 

...But not tonight. 

Tonight, he just needed to sit by himself and stew over everything that was bothering him. 

It was the way the Winchester men dealt with things, and there was nothing he could do to change that. 

You nodded, taking the hint and heading over to the table. Luckily, you were able to reach out to a few people at the pool table and join their game. They were nice, but you found it really hard to take the distraction. 

You were just worried about Dean. 

So worried, in fact, that you completely missed the one brave guy out of the pack who approached you. He had just chugged an entire beer can, and he was feeling on top of the world.

Clearly, that had led him to believe that you wanted anything to do with him. Even if you were putting out every single signal telling him that wasn’t the case.

As far as you were concerned, it didn’t matter if this guy was David Beckham or the queen of England. 

The last thing you wanted right now was for some average Joe to bother you. 

Not that your very clear body language kept him from coming. 

Before you could say or do anything about it, his arm was slung around your shoulder, a clumsy stumble following. He wasn’t smooth by any means, but weren’t too worried about it.

You were a literal monster hunter. You could handle a handsy frat boy that was too far out of his depth. 

Both you and Dean had handled worse. 

“Can I help you?” you wondered, a heavy sigh leaving your lips as you shrugged him off, not even bothering to drop your pool cue. You didn’t imagine this would take too much time at all.

The Bozo to your right only laughed, smiling at you with a lopsided grin. “I was thinking more along the lines of how I could help you” he suggested, the words leaving his throat in a sick tone.

It made you want to be ill. 

This guy was a creep and you knew for a fact that he had nothing to offer you. Though, before you could inform him of that simple fact, an all too familiar hand fell down on his shoulder. 

...Because as it would turn out, Dean couldn’t just sit by and watch.

He knew that you could handle it, but he couldn’t help himself. As much as he tried to stay out of it, it made his blood boil to watch someone paw at you like that. 

It wasn’t in his nature. 

“Is there a problem man?” the younger guy wondered, looking at Dean as if he’d committed some sort of serious offense. If only he knew what he was getting himself into.

You could tell that Dean was doing his best to keep calm, which was good. However, you couldn’t be sure how long that patience would last. 

If you knew anything, it wouldn’t be long at all.

Dean Winchester was a lot of things, but patient wasn’t one of them. 

“No, there’s no problem at all...except for the fact that you’ve got your hands on my girl” he started, his jaw tensed slightly as he addressed the frat boy by your side. 

He seemed just as upset as you could have expected, though he was doing a pretty good job of keeping it hidden. 

“Wait, hold up, this is your girl? Is that what you’re telling me?” the stranger laughed, looking between the two of you with a grin on his face. 

...Obviously that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, but you didn’t get it.

There was nothing funny about it and as soon as he said it, you found yourself getting angry. Not only was this guy a creep, but he was also gonna question a man like Dean? 

He must have been an idiot. 

However, before you could step up and make that point, Dean stopped you with a calm glance. 

You hadn’t been prepared for that reaction, but Dean had. From the moment that you two started doing this whole thing, he had been waiting for these kinds of reactions. 

A guy like him had no business being with a woman like you, and he knew that. 

“Look man, I get it...but yes, this is my girlfriend and I’d appreciate it if you backed off” he suggested, knowing it wouldn’t go down that easily. Though, he wanted to give this kid a chance. 

After all, he was just a young guy trying to have a good time and Dean understood that, not that he was going to let this whole thing slide if he kept it up. 

...And of course he kept it up. 

“Oh yeah? You’d appreciate it?” he scoffed, glancing down at you. “Can you believe this guy, honey?” he just kept going, laughing. 

You could have killed him. 

There was only one thing that you knew in this moment, and that was that this wasn’t going to end well.

*Bonus* 

“Are you alright baby?” Dean checked, smiling at you in a tired sort of way. It had been a long day, but you nodded, anyway. 

“I’m fine, are you okay though?” you hummed, returning the favor. He seemed alright, but the bruise blooming on his cheek proved potentially different. 

That jerk had got one lick in before Dean knocked him out. 

Little did you know, but in that moment, Dean had actually never been better.

[canarygirl1017]

Hands On Me - Chapter 1

Pairing: Reader / Jungkook

Genre:  College!au, fluff, mild angst, smut 

Length:  4,341k  words

Warnings:  language, sexual themes 

Summary:  You’d never had much luck with relationships, and experience had taught you to shy away from physical intimacy. But when you started dating your neighbor, Jungkook, you began to think he was worth the risk. College AU. 

A/N:  Next chapter coming soon. I originally wrote this a few months ago based on a prompt I got from my writer’s group. It was supposed to be college based romance, couple’s first time together, mildly angsty, and include the dialogue “Do you want to break up?” I sort of vaguely pictured JK when I was writing the male lead, at least visually, so I thought I would post it as a reader fan fic, which I’ve never written before. I usually write Marvel fan fic at AO3 in third person (not second person) so this isn’t as natural for me. Also, this is just for funsies because I don’t do real life shipping with real life people, though I do enjoy reading some of the well written fics I’ve seen in the fandom. If people enjoy this one, I might post more as I have a lot of short story prompts I’ve written for my club and don’t do anything with. 

Chapter 1

Snuggled up on the sofa watching TV together was how you spent most evenings with your boyfriend, Jungkook. You did a quick clean that morning in anticipation of him coming over since he seemed to prefer being in your space, though it hardly mattered; home was just a few doors down regardless of which apartment you chose to spend time together in.

You shifted your attention from the book you were reading to Jungkook’s profile, fingers itching to trace the sharp jawline that attracted so many women to the gym where he worked as a part-time trainer while he finished university. He also needed a haircut, but he’d shrugged off the suggestion when you mentioned it earlier that week. The slightly longer, inky black locks suited him though.

He was focused on the basketball game that had gone into overtime, his thumb absentmindedly stroking against your hip as you leaned against him. Being close to him was a double-edged sword lately and a reminder that he hadn’t really touched you in a while. Not since that night a few weeks ago.

When you first started dating three months ago, he’d been very physical with you. Dates that ended with kisses at the door had quickly turned into dates that ended with making out on the sofa at his apartment or yours. But during one very heated session on his sofa you got nervous, suddenly worried that things were moving too fast, and you pulled back. To his credit, Jungkook backed off immediately, assuring you that he was fine with following a slower pace.

Your high school boyfriend had pushed for sex and against your better judgment, you’d slept with him after the senior winter formal, only to be devastated when he moved on less than a month later. Similarly, your last boyfriend had been very pushy about sex, and your reluctance was a bone of contention between you until he broke it off.

At twenty-two, Jungkook was a year older, and you knew that he was much more experienced. You’d been neighbors for almost a year now, and you’d seen several of the girls he dated coming and going during that time. You’d never spoken to one another outside the occasional hello in passing until the night you came back from work to find your ex-boyfriend, Mike, drunk and pounding on your door.

Since you didn’t want to let him into your apartment, you stood outside to talk to him. Apparently offended that you wouldn’t let him in, he’d begun berating you loudly enough to have a few neighbors popping their heads out to see what was going on. And in the middle of that embarrassing situation, Jungkook and his friend walked up.

“Hey y/n,” Jungkook said. “Sorry we’re late.”

He slipped an arm around your waist, startling you, though you couldn’t deny you were grateful for the interruption.

His friend chimed in, holding up a takeout bag. “We brought dinner.” You’d seen him around campus and remembered that his name was Jimin.

Mike had eyed Jungkook, as if sizing up a potential fight. But while he had an inch or two on Jungkook in height, Jungkook was all lean muscle and without question the stronger of the two. So, he had backed off, but not before firing off a parting shot. “Good luck with the virgin. Cold fish bitch.”

Your cheeks were burning as he walked away.

Jimin broke the silence. “What an asshole. Does he do this a lot?”

You shook your head. “This is the first time I’ve seen him since we broke up.” You could only assume the alcohol had made him think that you were a potential booty call.  

Jungkook frowned as he stepped out of your personal space. “Sorry if I overstepped. I know it’s not my business, but I didn’t like the way he was crowding you at the door and yelling at you.”

“No, I appreciate you getting rid of him,” you answered. “Thank you.”

Jimin held up the takeout bag again. “We really do have dinner. Do you want to join us? Maybe it’s better if you’re not here alone in case he decides to come back.”

You hesitated, but then your stomach growled, a reminder that you hadn’t eaten since breakfast because of a hectic day of classes followed by work at the campus library.

Jungkook smiled. “We’ll take that as a yes.”

You became friends with Jungkook after that night. It was amazing how quickly you’d felt comfortable around him. He was kind and friendly, and he frequently helped the elderly residents of your building. Then one night after he’d shown up at the campus library and walked you the few blocks home, he kissed you. It marked the beginning of your new relationship, and you’d been inseparable ever since.

Unlike the few other guys you had dated, Jungkook had never directly brought up the topic of sex, nor had he pushed for it. You’d had a brief conversation one night about your respective exes. You knew he’d had one serious relationship that ended when he moved away for college and the long-distance relationship proved to be too much of a strain. He’d only dated casually since then, though you’d seen some of his overnight guests leaving his apartment the morning after.

Jungkook knew you’d had a boyfriend in high school, but you hadn’t gone into the details of the breakup. Though it was several years in the past, that rejection still stung, and you didn’t like to talk about it. He’d never asked about Mike other than to ensure you weren’t being harassed. You supposed the drunken scene he and Jimin had witnessed was explanation enough.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you failed to notice the game had ended until Jungkook spoke. “You’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

You looked up to see him watching you, an unreadable expression on his face. “Doing what?”

“Completely zoning out,” he replied with a half-smile. “Is something bothering you?” His chocolate brown eyes studied you intently.

“No,” you said quickly. Maybe too quickly because you could tell he didn’t quite believe you. His tongue pushed against his cheek, something he did when he was thinking about how to deal with a problem.

After a moment, he nodded. “Okay.” He stood up and stretched. “I should get going. I have an early client tomorrow.”

Saturdays were always busy at his gym, and he sometimes worked longer hours on the weekends. “Do you have clients tomorrow night?”

“One,” he confirmed as he pulled on his leather jacket. “Jen’s birthday party is tomorrow, right?”

You nodded as you walked to the door with him. “We’ll be at Carmen’s.” Jen had been planning her birthday for months and wanted a venue with good food, music and dancing. The trendy bar had only been open for about a year, but it was popular for the menu, which included themed cocktails, and the Latin music. You’d been looking at salsa dancing tutorials on YouTube because you were sure that your best friend would insist on hitting the dance floor.

“Okay. Jimin and I will swing by around ten.”

Jimin and Jen were involved in a casual flirtation that they both enjoyed, though you weren’t so sure it was really going anywhere. Jimin was a handsome transfer student studying modern dance, which took up a lot of his time, much to the disappointment of the single girls on campus. And for the two years you’d been friends, you had never known Jen to date anyone seriously. Still, Jen had heavily hinted that she wanted Jimin to come to her birthday party, and so you had told Jungkook to bring him.

“Okay.” You tilted your head back as he leaned down to kiss you goodbye.

You loved kissing him – the way his hands settled on your hips, and the way the first gentle brush of his lips against yours always gave way to slow, deep kisses. Your hands drifted down his chest to his waist, clutching the material of his t-shirt to ground yourself.

It would be so easy to get swept away. By the heat that flared between you. By your feelings. You knew without a doubt that you had fallen hard for him.

Jungkook pulled back, kissing the top of your head before releasing you. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You closed the door behind him and locked up, leaning your head against it for a moment. You were beginning to regret letting him leave every night even if you weren’t sure if you were ready for more. You wanted more, but you were afraid of it too. And you had no idea what to do about it.

_________________________________________

 You nibbled your bottom lip as you sat on Jen’s bed, watching your friend dig through her closet. “Do you think I should…” you paused, wondering how to broach this topic. While Jen had few conversational barriers, you were more hesitant to talk about sex.

“Should what?” Jen asked, her tone distracted as she pulled out another dress and tossed it over the chair at her desk. She tapped her well-manicured nails against the wall as she studied the contents of her closet before pulling out another dress and dropping it on the chair.

You glanced at the pile of dresses accumulating on the chair. “I thought you were going to wear that new dress you bought last week?”

“This isn’t for me,” Jen stated. “This is for you.”

You failed to contain a snort of laughter. “You’re like six inches taller than me. And I have a dress.” It wasn’t new, and Jen had complained that the dark color washed you out the last time you wore it. But unlike Jen, whose wealthy parents supplied her with credit cards and charge accounts around the city, you couldn’t afford to waste money on clothes. Your parents helped when they could, but you also had three younger siblings still at home and college was only possible because of your scholarships. Living in the city was also expensive; if not for Jungkook contributing to your groceries since you often ate together, you’d probably be eating ramen five nights a week.

“And I’m a fashion design student, so I have time to alter one of these. If I have to see you in that funeral dress again, I’m going to burn it. Worse, do you really want Jungkook to see you in it?” she shuddered as she tossed another dress on the chair. “Okay, I think these are the best options. Now, what were you asking? Do I think you should what?”

You hadn’t considered that Jungkook might also hate that dress. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to see what Jen had in mind. Arguing with her was next to impossible anyway.

You helped Jen hang the dresses on a clothes rack in the corner so you could see them better. “Do you think I should sleep with Jungkook?”

Jen raised a brow as she glanced over at you. “Hell yes. Have you talked about it?”

You shook your head. “No. I kind of… I don’t know. Freaked out a little bit a few weeks ago when we were kissing and stuff. It seemed like we were headed there, and I wasn’t sure I was ready, and I know I totally pulled a one eighty on him. And now he barely touches me.”

“Huh.” Jen considered that for a minute. “So things are weird now? Are you afraid he’s going to break up with you or something?”

You hadn’t really thought about that. “I wasn’t, but now that you said it, maybe.” You had mostly been worried that if you broke up after sleeping together, he’d be that much harder to get over because you knew that you’d be more attached to him then than you already were. But maybe that worry – that he would leave because you were holding back – had been there all along.

“I’m not saying he would do that,” Jen hurried to add. “I’ve seen how he acts around you, and how he looks at you. I really think he’s one of the good ones. But with your past experiences, I can see why you’d be worried. Has he ever been pushy about it?”

“No, never. When I told him that I thought we were moving too fast, he said he’d follow my pace. Only now, we’ve just kind of stalled out.”

“I guess he’s waiting for you to do something then. Like give him a signal that you want more.”

That could be it too. “I don’t really know how,” you admitted. “I have one night’s experience to draw from, and that was years ago.”

“That wasn’t an experience, y/n, that was a sexual travesty.”

You couldn’t argue with that. “He’s experienced though. I’m sure he knows how to make it good for me, but I don’t know how to do that for him. What if I’m bad in bed?”

“First of all, you have no idea how you are in bed because you’re practically still a virgin. Second, men are easier to please when it comes to sex anyway. Jungkook likes you. It’s easy to tell that he has real feelings for you, so I think there’s zero chance that he wouldn’t like sex with you. You really need to talk to him about it.”

You felt your cheeks heat up just thinking about trying to talk to him about this. “I know. I’m just embarrassed.”

Jen rolled her eyes. “If you can’t talk about it, you probably shouldn’t be doing it. Or I guess you could take the easier route and wear something that does the seduction for you. Like this.” She held up a deep red halter neck dress. The low neckline and back ensured maximum skin exposure. Jen was tall and had long, dark hair so on her, it probably looked fabulous.

Eyeing the dress with skepticism, you said, “That dress is your style, not mine. I’ve never worn anything like that before.” Your style could best be described as casual. On date night, you managed flirty casual, and Jungkook didn’t seem to have any complaints. This dress was on a whole other level, though.

“We can make it your style. I’ll make sure it’s not too revealing if that’s what you’re worried about.” When you still hesitated, Jen added, “Come on, Jungkook will forget how to talk when he sees you in this. I guarantee that you won’t have any trouble getting him into bed if that’s what you decide you want.”

The idea of surprising Jungkook with something like this was appealing. Maybe shaking up your image for one night would give you the confidence to talk to him about your relationship.

_____________________________________

 Jungkook stifled a yawn as he entered Carmen’s. It had been an exceptionally long day, and he wished this was a regular Saturday night like the ones he usually spent with his girlfriend, y/n. He liked being in your apartment because your sofa was comfortable, you had an old record player and some killer albums that you’d collected since middle school, and your essential oil candles made everything smell nice.

Jimin had been teasing him for a couple of months now, calling him domesticated. He supposed he was because before meeting you, he rarely spent a Saturday night in. If someone had told him then that he’d soon trade beers at his favorite bar for candles and snuggling on the sofa, he would have laughed.

And since Jimin rarely got him out on a weekend anymore, and Jen had equal complaints about you, he doubted either of you would get away with ducking out early.

“Are they upstairs or downstairs?” Jimin asked.

“Downstairs, I think,” he replied.

He let Jimin lead the way. It was crowded downstairs, and he first searched the booths and bar area, expecting to find you chatting with friends. You always said dancing in public made you feel awkward unless you were drunk, and since your alcohol tolerance was low, you usually didn’t drink much.

“I see Jen on the dance floor,” Jimin said. “Did you find her?”

“No.” Jungkook scanned the dance floor, briefly pausing on a petite girl wearing a red dress before looking back at the booths. “Maybe she’s in the bathroom.” He pulled out his phone to call you.  

“Wait, is that y/n?” Jimin suddenly asked.  

Jungkook glanced up from his phone. “Where?”

“That girl in the red dress.”

He looked back at the dance floor for the girl in red, ready to deny it. Except she’d turned around now, and Jimin was right. Holy shit.

“Damn. I know I’ve been giving you a hard time lately, calling you domesticated. I’ll shut up now because if I knew I was taking her home later, I’d be domesticated too.”

Jungkook glared at Jimin. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop.”

Jimin’s expression was sheepish. “Sorry, man. I’m going to hell for impure thoughts, but so are half the guys hanging around her. You might want to worry more about them.”

Jungkook was already on the move as he’d noticed the same thing. Shouldering past two guys trying to dance up behind you, he gave them a look that ensured they backed off. Your back was facing him, and he swallowed hard as his eyes drifted down from your shoulders. The dress draped in the small of your back, leaving a bare expanse of skin, and his fingers literally itched to touch you.

He gave in to the urge, sliding his hand along your waist lightly to get your attention. You turned your head, brows furrowed as you flinched away from the unexpected touch. But when you saw it was him, you smiled and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“You’re here,” you said, tilting your head back to look at him. “I’ve been waiting forever.”

He smiled at your uncharacteristically dramatic tone. “Sorry. I forgot my bag, so I had to run home to change. Are you having fun?” You were pressed close against him on the crowded dance floor, and he was enjoying the feeling of your small body against his. He let his hands settle on your hips, thumbs rubbing light circles. You shivered in response. “Are you cold?”

“No. That just feels good,” you said with a sigh. You toyed with the top button of his long-sleeved white Henley.

He wasn’t used to you being that direct about what you liked. And when your hands suddenly wandered under his leather jacket and ran up his back, he suppressed a shiver of his own. “I think you’re drunk, baby.” He pulled you closer, trying to ignore the teasing glimpse of cleavage revealed by your dress. Your hair drifted around your pale shoulders in loose waves, and all he could think about was running his fingers through it as he kissed you.  

“Maybe a little bit,” you admitted, scrunching your nose as you smiled up at him. “The cocktails are really good here.”

God, you were adorable. He’d never met another girl that he wanted to simultaneously fuck senseless but also protect and cuddle, though the former urge was winning out tonight. He’d never imagined you wearing a dress like this, and he knew it would be fueling his fantasies for quite some time. It had to be Jen’s influence, though he certainly wasn’t complaining.

As if reading his thoughts, Jen suddenly sidled past him on her way to the bar. “You’re welcome.”

For the next three hours, you divided your time between the dance floor and the bar, and Jungkook was content to follow behind you. You danced slowly together regardless of the beat, and he finally allowed his hands to stroke your bare back. You kept tilting your head back, inviting his kisses, and he was happy to indulge you. He was so turned on he could hardly think straight, but he knew he needed to keep a tight rein on the situation. The last thing he wanted was a repeat of that night a few weeks before when you had all but run from his apartment.

When you got a bit unsteady on your feet, Jungkook ordered water and fries at the bar before leading you to the booth where Jimin, Jen and a couple of other friends were talking. He could tell you were starting to fade as you finished the water and food. When you yawned and leaned against him, he kissed the top of your head. “I think it’s time we got you home.”

You hummed in agreement. Jen tossed him your jacket from the corner of the booth, and he helped you put it on. The cab ride back home was long enough for you to fall asleep in his arms. He savored every minute, stroking your hair gently, lulled by the sound of your breathing and glad that you had shaken off the pensive mood you’d been in the night before.

Jungkook was observant enough to realize that something was worrying you lately. While it bothered him that you wouldn’t tell him what you were thinking about, he worried that the relationship was still too fragile for him to push when it was obvious that you didn’t want to talk about it. Still, it was becoming increasingly difficult to let it go because he was concerned that it had something to do with him.

He wondered if it was about sex. Ever since that night he’d intervened when your ex showed up drunk, he’d wondered about your relationship with him. Something in the past had made you nervous about physical intimacy, which he’d realized after you ran out of his apartment that night, and he’d been very careful not to do anything that might make you run again. More and more he wished he’d punched that asshole, feeling certain he was somehow to blame. He’d deserved that and more for the name calling alone.

When you arrived home, Jungkook paid the driver and helped you from the car. Upstairs, he unlocked your apartment, smiling when you kicked your heels off and the effort sent you stumbling sideways. He steadied you before removing your jacket and draping it on the arm of the sofa. You walked to your bedroom and he grabbed some water from the kitchen before following you.

“You don’t feel sick, do you?” he asked, placing the water on your nightstand.

You shook your head as you sat on the edge of the bed and reached out a hand to him. “No.”

He took your hand and sat next to you. “You should change before you go to sleep, so you’ll be more comfortable.”

“You like the dress, right?” You nibbled your bottom lip as you peeked up at him through your lashes.

Understatement. “You look beautiful,” Jungkook said quietly, pushing your hair off your shoulder. His breath caught when you turned her cheek toward his palm and rubbed against him like a sleepy kitten.

“Then kiss me,” you whispered.

He hesitated, but you were already reaching for him. The kiss was like throwing a match on kindling. Then you scooted back to lie down and pulled him with you.

This was dangerous and he knew it, but he ignored the niggling little warning in his head because he’d been thinking about kissing you like this all night. He pressed against your soft curves but kept most of his weight off you as slow kisses turned more passionate. And when your hands grew bolder, running across his chest and back and tugging him closer, he gave in to the temptation, pulling you more fully beneath him.

When you parted your thighs, allowing his hips to settle between them, he dropped his head to your shoulder with a groan. Pressing kisses against your neck, he willed himself to calm down. “Baby, we should stop.”

You responded by pushing your hips up against him, and he bit back a curse. He was fully hard now and stopping was the last thing he wanted to do, but he knew it was the right thing. Jungkook braced his weight on his forearms and took a breath as he stared down at you.

“But I want you to stay,” you said, threading your fingers in his hair. Your eyes seemed much darker in the dim light of the bedroom. Your small hands drifted down to his shoulders, kneading, and then moved further down to toy with the hem of his shirt.

Jungkook closed his eyes and took another deep breath, the light fragrance of your perfume doing nothing to help him regain control. As much as he wanted you – had wanted you from the first night he kissed you - he didn’t want your first time together to be after a night of drinking. If there was even the slightest chance that you might regret it later, it wasn’t worth it.

He gave in one last time, kissing the spot beneath your ear that always made you shiver. He darted his tongue out to taste you and then captured your lips for one more long, slow kiss. “Not tonight.”

You didn’t argue anymore, allowing him to pull away. You were quiet as you got up and took some clothes from the dresser before going to the bathroom to change. When you returned, your face was clean, and you wore the usual pajama pants and t-shirt you preferred to sleep in. You didn’t say anything as you slipped past him to crawl back into bed and pull the covers up.

“You’re sure you feel okay?” he asked.

You nodded, your eyes already closed. “I’m just tired.”

He brushed his hand over your hair and leaned down to kiss your forehead. “I’ll lock up on my way out. I’ll give you the key back tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Jungkook hesitated for a moment. Something seemed off somehow. Awkward, maybe. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He turned off the light and let himself out, making sure to lock the door behind him.

[spritewrites]

like children

Fandom: Shades of Magic (by V.E. Schwab)

Characters: Kell Maresh & Rhy Maresh

Word Count: 2055

“Go away. I’m working on a strategy.”

It was late afternoon when Kell said it, but he still hadn’t changed out of his bedclothes. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t quite remember when the last time he’d changed his clothes was. His blue eye was red with exhaustion, and his reddish hair was sticking up at odd angles - he’d been running his fingers through it. Thirty-six hours awake isn’t ideal for anybody, magic or not.

“For what?”

Rhy was laying on his bed, idly picking at the bedcovers. He had the cool, measured tone that Kell recognized, the one that made the frustration rise in his throat. It was the tone Rhy always adopted when Kell stayed up too long. The one he used when he was trying to convince him of something, something he didn’t think he’d like. Such as calming down. Or eating. Or sleeping.

“For the games.”

Rhy barked out a laugh. “The Essen Tasch? Saints, Kell, why? I entered you to be a stress reliever, not so you could run yourself into the ground!”

A fist clenched around the edge of his parchment, wrinkling the corner. It took a moment for Kell to realize that it was his. He cleared his throat, smoothing the paper back out as best he could. Rhy didn’t need to worry about him, on top of all his responsibilities with the competition.

“If I’m going to compete,” he replied, “I’d prefer not to be humiliated in my own city.”

The stray piece of thread that Rhy had been tugging at came loose. “You’re the most powerful magician in Arnes, probably in the whole world. None of the other champions can compete with an Antari. Your win is… inevitable.”

“You flatter me.”

Rhy laughed at that. “Trust me, brother, I don’t intend to do anything of the kind.”

Kell groaned, trying to steady his voice before Rhy can realize exactly how exhausted he was. It couldn’t work, he knew. The only reason Rhy was here was because he could feel that bone-aching tiredness in their bond.

“Still. I should be doing research. Practicing. Alone.” His voice dropped slightly, almost imperceptibly. “I’ve never worked with only one element before.”

Rhy’s eyes were lit with amusement, and something else. Something sadder. “Well. You’ll have to… hold back, then. So, there’s not much need to study. You can rest.” A hint of mischief grew in his smile. “Besides, you’ll need all your strength if you go up against Alucard Emery.”

Kell felt his cheeks grow hot, his mild scowl deepening into a frown. His classic look, and he knew even before Rhy opened his mouth that his brother would tease him for it, but for all his secrets, he could never hide his feelings from him. Besides, anything he felt, Rhy would feel too. Inevitability again.

“Ah, come, is my favorite brother feeling a little self-destructive?” Rhy teased, leaning up on his elbows. His black hair shone in the light, painting the perfect picture of an innocent angel. Kell nearly snorted. Anything but.

“If you’re only going to distract me, then I don’t recommend sticking around. There’s the door.” A gust of wind ruffled Rhy’s robes on its path to fling the chamber door open. Kell turned back to his papers, ignoring the grumbling he could hear from the prince’s direction.

The leash he was tethered to here at the castle felt shorter than ever, and Rhy’s relentless presence was a symptom of that tether. He could remember a time, not so very long ago, when his frequent travels as the crown’s Antari had kept his time with Rhy short. Perhaps too short. His thoughts would drift often to his carefree brother, envious both of his position and his weightlessness as he waltzed through Red London society, blind to the true depth of the responsibilities that Kell held. During those times, he had often wished to be able to be closer to Rhy, like they had been as children, siphoning off some of his easy charm and wit. Now, he thought ruefully, he wished dearly that his brother would go away.

Kell was snapped from his thoughts by a hard pinch at the back of his neck. He cursed, spinning to fume at his brother. “I thought I told you to get out and stop bothering me!”

Rhy hadn’t moved – he was lazing on his back, hands tucked behind his head and wearing a grin that spoke only of mischief. Saints, Kell was familiar with that grin. Stupid bond.

“You did. But you seemed unfocused. I figured I’d draw your attention back to your… work.”

“You’re a menace.”

“I knew what I was doing,” Rhy replied easily. He rolled onto his stomach, clutching a satin-edged pillow to his chest and kicking his bare feet. “Truthfully, I wanted to spend some time with my favorite brother. Since, of course, you’re not busy. Not busy doing anything healthy, anyway.”

Kell rolled his eyes. “You’re acting like a child.”

One of Rhy’s eyebrows quirked up with almost a mind of its own. His curly head dropped into something like a bow, and he adopted his most regal voice, the one he reserved for the high court.

“Forgive me, Master Kell, for my insolence. Please, continue your work. I shan’t disturb you again.”

This time Kell did snort, a gruff, low sound that hurt his throat. He didn’t think that was supposed to hurt. Come to think of it, a lot of him was hurting right now. Rhy probably felt it too. Maybe sleep would be welcome.

He’d scarcely had the thought when he felt something large and soft hit the back of his neck. He reeled to see his brother casually staring up at the ceiling, feigning innocence, and one of his pillows on the floor. Kell narrowed his eyes, but Rhy refused to look at him. He was actually humming. Ass.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Hm?” Rhy replied, sliding his gaze over to Kell’s furious glare.

“You’re going to try to wear me out, so I have to sleep.”

“Oh, am I?”

Rhy sounded amused. Kell fought the urge to set the bed on fire, just to see his brother jump. He settled on rolling his eyes.

“It’s not going to work.”

“It isn’t?”

“I’m impervious to your efforts to distract me.”

“Ah, you are?”

“I am as immovable as a Veskan warrior.”

“I see.”

“So. There’s really no need to try. And you can just leave me be.”

Rhy grinned, eerie and catlike, a grin that made the hair on the back of Kell’s neck stand on end. Sanct.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

The shriek that Kell let out as his brother launched at him would have been quite embarrassing, had it not been disguised by the screech of chair legs against the stone floor when they both toppled over. Instantly, Kell’s wrists were in Rhy’s grasp, and he grunted and squirmed as best he could, but the crown prince was heavier than he looked.

“Get off,” he wheezed, heating up his palms and trying to grab at where Rhy’s hands held him firm – not enough to burn, just enough to make him let go – but he couldn’t quite reach. His heels scrabbled against the wooden floor, and distantly he could hear Rhy chuckling. Kell felt his face grow hot with rage and embarrassment at being so easily overtaken. The absolute bastard.

In a desperate effort, Kell filled his lungs and blew out a huge gust of magical wind, lifting his brother off of him, but also scattering his papers in a tornado around the room. No matter. He’d gather them back up when he wasn’t fighting for his life.

“No fair using magic!”

Kell knew how to wrestle with Rhy. He’d had practice. In recent years he’d sometimes been called upon to act as his sparring partner during Rhy’s combat lessons, but he’d been rolling over the grooved stone of the halls of this palace with his brother since before he could remember.

Unfortunately, Rhy had had the same practice. He managed to get an arm around Kell’s knees, but Kell still had the upper hand, most of his wriggling body still free, and he couldn’t quite pin his legs down for the kicking. Kell tugged at Rhy’s elbow, trying to dislodge the vice-like grip, but suddenly found himself with a face full of the same pillow that had hit his back before.

Kell yelped, twisting to try to escape over the bed, grasping desperately at his slipping sheets in an effort to climb away. Unfortunately, Rhy was Rhy, and when it came to these fights, when it came to Kell, Rhy was merciless. He’d scarcely made it over the edge of the mattress when he felt his younger brother at his back, grabbing at his waist and laughing breathlessly with the sheer energy of the fight.

Kell was laughing too, sort of, trying to fight it, so it was coming out more as huffs through gritted teeth. Rhy looked absolutely delighted at this development, much to Kell’s chagrin. Part of the game, at least as it was originally played, was Kell trying to maintain his mask of dignity. Laughing wasn’t part of it. Not ideally, anyway. His body sometimes had other ideas. Especially when Rhy was looking up at him like that, so adoringly, so carefree. The giddiness of it all was hard to fight.

And Rhy knew it.

The prince managed to sneak a hand under his brother’s shirt and dig into his sides, exactly where he knew Kell was horribly ticklish. Any other time, Kell would have shrugged him off easily and scolded him for his ridiculous, childish behavior. But his utter exhaustion made his nerves sing, and, to his horror, he broke into hoarse, helpless giggles. Rhy’s smile widened, and at first that made Kell struggle harder – Smug bastard, he thought – flipping onto his back to shove at the prince’s ruthless fingers, the ones that knew exactly where to prod to get the best reactions.

But then he saw that look on Rhy’s face. It was everything that he always wanted to see – joy, mischief, humor, love. Everything he was always looking for when he gazed into those honey-brown eyes. He couldn’t deny Rhy that, not now. So, despite his natural instincts, Kell stopped fighting, falling back against the sheets and resigning himself to full-out laughter just as evil hands crawled their way up to his ribs.

“Do you yield?” teased Rhy, fighting back laughter of his own as he tried to tune out the mirrored (albeit faint) echoes of sensation on his own body.

Kell tried to speak, he really did, but it’s awful hard to get out a coherent sentence when your not-so-little brother is tickling you to pieces. Finally, he managed a nod, and Rhy mercifully rolled off of him to collapse onto the foot of the bed, a huge grin on his face.

“F-fuck you,” Kell choked, clutching his stomach and gasping for air.

Rhy chuckled. “Feeling tired yet?”

Kell swatted weakly at him, still leaking giggles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The creases around Rhy’s eyes softened a little. “You don’t laugh like that anymore.”

For a moment, Kell simply felt his breath enter and leave his lungs, listening to the wind whistle outside the window. He could lay here forever like this. Then he took Rhy’s hand.

“No. No, I don’t.”

For a while, the two brothers lay beside one another, catching their breath and staring up into the dark fabric that covered the ceiling. If you unfocused your eyes enough, Kell thought, you could almost imagine yourself soaring into that inky blackness, dodging between the stars.

“Hey, Kell?”

A sigh through his nose. “Yeah?”

“…Never mind.” Rhy’s voice was small. Kell held his breath. For a second, he was certain that if he turned to look at his brother, he would see him exactly as he’d been that night after he’d rescued him from the Shadows. He squeezed his hand.

“Rhy?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you.” For cheering me up. For knowing me well enough to know that I need cheering up. For the Essen Tasch. For being my brother.

“You’re welcome.”

They stayed like that for a long time, long after Kell fell asleep.

[ashes-and-ashes]

Quidditch Matches

eg a Professional Quidditch au

~

Sirius never gets sick of the roar of the crowd.

He feels it; the screaming, the yelling, feels the energy coursing deep in his bones. It’s infectious, the thousands of people filling the stands, the air so cold it hurt his lungs. He breathes in deeply until his lungs hurt, flexing his fingers at his side.

When he hears his name - Black, Sirius! he steps onto the court, broomstick slung carelessly over his shoulders. The crowd goes wild - he’s always known how to do this, the cocky smile and the raised eyebrows, head tilted just so. A lifetime lived in the harsh gleam of the cameras and Sirius knows he can’t let the mask drop just for a second. He gives the crowd a two-fingered salute - they scream their approval and Sirius laughs as he goes to join the rest of his teammates.

“Done posing?” James asks. His hair is even more ruffled then usual - Sirius smirks to himself as he remembers James’ locker room rant, pacing up and down the rows of benches as he tugged at his hair. Lily stands next to him, her helmet tucked underneath her arm, hair a fiery red against the dark blue of their robes; she shoots Sirius a fierce grin.

“Who knows? Maybe he’ll retire from Qudditch one day. Become a porn star.”

“Tried that,” Sirius counters, ducking under Benny’s outstretched arm and slinging his hand around Dorcas to join in the huddle. “Didn’t work. See, the lenses weren’t big enough to capture my - “

James clears his throat. “Look guys. It’s the deciding match. Whoever wins this makes it to finals.”

“Semis,” Lily corrects.

James rolls his eyes. “I have good news and bad news. Which one?”

“Good,” Sirius says, and the others murmur their assent. James nods.

“Good news is that Mulciber is out. Turns out Peter hit him a little bit harder then he intended to.”

Peter shrugs, his beaters bat slung casually over one shoulder. “Bruised?”

“Broken,” James replies, and Peter’s eyes widen. “He’s done. He won’t be in for another season at least.”

Benjy snorts. “That’s probably good. I was this close to killing him after what he did to Caddy in playoffs. That body check was illegal.”

Caradoc rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Fenwick.”

“Oh, make me Dearborn - “

“Bad news,” James says, speaking over them, “Is that they have a new player. Looks pretty good from what I can see. He’s a seeker.”

Sirius feels all eyes turn towards him. He shrugs - Sirius was the best in the league for a reason, with a perfect history of catches. “Is he any good?”

“Guess you’ll find out.”

Sirius smirks. “Don’t think so.”

“Careful,” Lily says. “Don’t want to get cocky.”

Sirius gives her a mock bow. The sound of horns startle them all out of their bickering - their heads all snap up, watching the doors at the opposite end of the court. Schooling his face into a neutral expression, Sirius watches the familiar parade of their rivals.

The names drone in his head - they had practically memorized the order by now. It had started ages ago, when they had managed to beat them 280 - 300 at their first ever finals and the rivalry still was going strong five years later.

Longbottom, Frank! Bones, Edgar! Fortescue, Alice!

Sirius smiles to himself - Alice and Lily had a known rivalry as the two best Keepers in the league. He stifles a laugh as Lily clenches her jaw, eyes burning.

McKinnon, Marlene!

Beside him, Dorcas lets out a long sigh. “If she wasn’t on the other team I might have thought about banging her.”

Sirius shrugs. McKinnon was a Chaser, notorious for her perfect aim. “I can see it,” he says, and Dorcas shoves him.

He nods as the announcer calls out Prewett, Fabian and Prewett, Gideon - the twins were legendary, arguably the best beaters in the league. Sirius watches Peter and Dorcas size them up, bats at their side.

He glances up at the magical whiteboard, the names magically erasing from the surface, and Sirius finds himself holding his breath -

Lupin, Remus!

He can’t stop himself. Sirius leans forward, interested to see who his new opponent is when Lupin steps through the door and Sirius’ heart stopped dead.

He’s not some inexperienced schoolboy - Sirius has seen plenty of beautiful people, cold elegance and haughty arrogance. He’s grown up with them all his life, black lace and pearls, the glint of gold in earlobes and at throats, rings and bracelets and pins.

So he doesn’t know why his heart stutters, why his breath hitches when his eyes fall on Remus Lupin. He was different - all long limbs and curly hair, his hands tucked over his broom. There was something different about him, a keen sort of awareness that filled his body - Sirius suddenly knew with sinking certainty that this Remus Lupin would be a nightmare on the court.

There’s no time to ponder this though - Sirius realizes with a jolt that everyone had already gotten into their starting positions. He swallows hard, casually slings his broom around his arm and saunters over to check Remus.

Remus’ eyes narrow slightly as Sirius comes closer. He’s leaning against his broom; Sirius can see the silver letters imprinted on the wood, R. Lupin. He grins, all teeth, savage ferocity in his eyes.

“So you’re the new Seeker.”

Remus raises an eyebrow. His eyes are gold, true gold, sunlight on amber and streaks of bronze and Sirius wonders if he could ever paint them. “No,” Remus says, his voice smooth and even. “I actually just polish everyone’s brooms.”

“Oh really?” Sirius smirks. “How do they like their brooms polished?”

Remus shoots him a flashing smile, one that let Sirius see past the calm exterior and into the raging fire at his core. “Extremely well,” he replies, then turns to watch James and Fabian Prewett shake hands. Sirius follows his gaze, shaking his head - Remus Lupin was obviously a Class-A Asshole.

He tunes out the post-game speech - his head is pounding, adrenaline filling his body. He barely even waits for the starting whistle - at the first tweet he’s off, the lights in his eyes and the air around him.

He’s always loved flying, ever since he was a kid, used to weave his toy brooms around trees and through rocks, ducking down so low he could brush the ground. He remembers falling off his broom once, snapping his wrist - he tried out for the team in a cast.

His broom turns smoothly in his hand; Sirius grins as he yanks it up, executing a perfect hairpin turn above Remus’ head. Remus levels an unimpressed look at him.

“You going to play the game like that?” he calls - Sirus’ hair is a wind-tangled mess, all curls and knots.

“Mind your own business, Princess!” Sirius yells back. He does take a minute though to scrape his hair up into a bun - the crowd behind him goes wild. Remus just rolls his eyes, settling into position, golden eyes scanning the pitch.

When the second whistle blows he’s off - the Snitch is a blur of gold against the clashes already happening below him, near-invisible against the frenzy of balls and bodies. Sirius laughs, dripping down to weave in between the broomsticks, eyes roaming the field for any hint of gold.

He glances up just in time to seen Lily casually intercept a ball, tossing it to James as he swooped by. Alice bats his shot away without blinking an eye - Frank Longbottom pulls into a long swoop to reach it before James did -

“Crap!” Frank hisses; Peter had aimed a Bludger at his head. He had to spin to avoid it, giving James plenty of time to reach the Quaffle; he passes it to Benjy who managed to slip it into the hoop behind Alice.

The crowd roars - Sirius’ heart swells with triumph as he spits the magical whiteboard blur, a huge 10 appearing. He can hear Benjy’s whoop from across the pitch - Sirius smiles. “Let’s Go!” he screams.

“Losing focus, Black?” Sirus whips around - Remus is hovering a few feet away from him, tone mocking. Sirius replies back easily, the humor in his voice not quite masking the venom.

“Just trying to give your team the chance to win,” he replies. “You know. Cause they need it.”

Remus gives him a small shrug and God, if he wasn’t such an asshole, if his eyes weren’t so bright and his body so lean -

“Heads!” Dorcas shrieks - Sirius barely manages to swerve to the right before she’s bashing it, sending it careening towards McKinnon. She’s aimed it perfectly - the ball smacks right into the Quaffle, narrowly missing McKinnon’s fingers.

“You fucker!” McKinnon shouts, already diving for the ball. Dorcas blows her a kiss.

“Stop flirting with the Seeker,” she tells him, and then she’s plunging back into the fray below. Sirius looses a long sigh, pulling his broom down into a steep dive - the Snitch was right by James’ ankle -

There’s a blur of purple in front of him - Sirius just barely manages to hold on as Remus crashes into him, sending him careening away from the center. He swears, fingers digging into the wood so hard that he feels his nails bend, pressing back into the skin.

“Asshole,” he mutters. Remus ignores him, swooping into an inpossibly sharp dive. Sirius shakesthe dizziness, follows him -

The only warning he gets is the soft whoosh of the ball; Sirius flattens himself to his broomstick as the Bludger flies inches away from his head. He spins, dragging his gaze up to see Gideon Prewett’s grinning face, his bat dangling in one hand.

“Sorry Black!” he calls and then Sirius is accelerating forward, towards Remus who was swooping for something and the crowd was going wild -

Sirius grit his teeth, out on an extra burst of speed and body-checked Lupin away from the Snitch. He lunges for it but it’s too far away - he sees it disappear into the mass of bodies. There’s another scream from the crowd - he looks up at the board.

70 - 80. They were losing - only by 10 points but losing all the same. Remus shoves him, hard enough to send him spinning and crashing against the walls of the stadium.

“Fuck off.”

“Make me.”

“I’ll punch your teeth out. Will that help?”

“I was going to say you could gag me but - “

Remus rolls his eyes. They’re circling each other, high above the scuffle for the Quaffle down below. He studies Sirius for a moment then gives him a fleeting grin - full of light and electricity and that forever-stubborn determination that Sirius had. “You could stay out of my way.”

“You need a telescope? Maybe you’ll actually see he Snitch then.”

“You need some safety charms? Maybe you’ll actually learn how to fly.”

Sirius shoves him again; Remus just laughs as he lets himself be pushed backwards. “Better step up the trash talk. You sure aren’t good at it.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, diving down into a deep dive. He can hear his teammates down below - James’ frantic orders, Lily’s calm responses, Benjy’s insults and Caradoc’s booming laugh. He can hear Peter and Dorcas too, the voices of his family and teammates and best friends in the world and he knows he can’t let them down.

McKinnon swoops over him, blonde hair shining under the harsh lights. She intercepts the Quaffle with a grin, winking at him before tossing it up. Sirius can tell from the roar that she must have scored. He grits his teeth - he can’t see Remus through all the bodies, and he has no idea where the Snitch is -

He spots it just as Remus does - right in the middle of the court. Sirius leans forwards, urging his broom to go faster, to out face Remus -

His hands are almost around it when Remus knocks him away. Sirius grits his teeth and shoots forwards, pinning Remus against the wall, his broom blocking Remus’ broom and his face too close to Remus’. “Let - go - “

“Give me then damn Snitch,” Remus hisses - Sirius again can’t stop noticing his eyes. “Bastard.”

“You - “ Sirius breaks off - he spots the Snitch at the exact same time that Remus does. They both reach for it, so fast he doesn’t know -

An ear-splitting siren fills the room, making Sirius jump with shock. His pounds as he scans the room, the scoreboard - both sides were at 130, which meant that...

“Hey,” he says. His voice sounds hoarse, rough and raw from yelling. “Who - “

He looks down. A wave of disappointment runs through him - “Shit!”

“How did this - “ Remus begins, then falls silent.

The two of them stare at their interclasped hands, palms pressed together. In the center lay the Snitch, caught in the middle by the both of them, wings still fluttering slightly.

“Fuck,” Remus says. “It’s a tie.”

[indiavolowetrust]

Carajillo

SUMMARY:  Some things are truly set in stone. After the tension arises in the Devildom and Celestial Realm, the human is called back to attend a summit.

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

january 14th, 12:04 p.m. 

My chest heaves with effort, my breaths already labored and ragged, and I all but toss the suitcase onto the ground. Face flushed, lungs threatening to burst from my body. I press a hand to my breast, despite the uselessness of the gesture. Force myself to take slow, deep breaths, concentrating on the cobblestones of the ground before me. My heart pulses weakly in my chest, quick and abnormal in rhythm, but there lies little reason for concern. Not any more concern than the usual calls for, anyway.

“You alright, little lady?” asks the coachman, giving me a worried look. “Not looking so hot there.”

“Yes, I -- I think I just need a moment,” I wheeze, attempting to give him a reassuring smile. It doesn’t seem to work, given the deepening concern on his features, but I do my best to keep up the ruse. “I’m just a little winded, is all.”

His eyes flicker towards the rest of the bags in the back of the carriage. “I don’t think I’ll need any help with the rest, miss. Best you sit in the carriage.”

My mouth opens to protest, excuses for my condition on my lips, but a sharp look from the coachman encourages me to not to. I catch my breath on the side of the carriage for the few minutes that he needs to bring out the rest of my things, leaning on its wooden panels. Hand pressed to my chest, the other digging needlessly into the bag containing Barbatos’ present. It helps only marginally. When the coachman comes around the other side of the carriage to fetch me, there is still that same worried expression on his face.

“Going up to the castle, I take it?” It is more of a statement than an inquiry. He casts a glance towards the dark, looming castle, then back to his carriage. “I can escort you, if you want.”

I smile gratefully. “Thank you. Someone  was supposed to meet me out here, but I think I arrived a little too early. I’m -- I’m here for the summit.”

The statement seems to spark an interest in his eyes. “Are you?” he says, scrutinizing me. “You’d think they choose a hardier human. Or at least an older one.”

My cheeks flush with indignation, my embarrassment about my condition expressed on my features. “I --”

“Don’t get yourself all twisted up,” he says, waving off my offense. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine. It’s those angels you’ve gotta worry about, really. Those are the ones that’ll do you in, the sneaky little bastards.”

My mind flashes briefly to Simeon and Luke. “I highly doubt that.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Betcha they’ll stab you in the back right when you’ve signed the lord’s peace treaty,” he says, pantomiming the action. His tone is still relatively casual, his expression belying the weight of his message -- but there is an odd stiffness to his words as he speaks. “We might be the heralds of temptation and all that, but they’re the one that cast us aside in the first place. For all their talk of unconditional love and forgiveness, they sure don’t practice their own beliefs.”

“You’re sure?”

He nods. “‘Course I am. None of their kind have fallen in a millennia -- what makes you think they’ll listen to us just because we’ve got some new lord in place? Most of the flighty bastards probably can’t imagine living a life that doesn’t involve smiting demons or latching onto humans.”

I want to refuse his words, of course. I want to tell him that he’s wrong, that Lord Diavolo’s proposed policies will bring in a new era -- but I can’t deny the obvious unrest amongst the demons. I can’t dismiss the seeds of doubt in the demon population, nor can I overlook the strict attitudes of the angels. It had taken years for the angels to agree to discuss relations between all three realms, and then there were the discussions of agreeing to hold a summit. It would be incredibly difficult -- and lengthy -- for treaties to be discussed and signed solely via letters, as it was.

With such precarious circumstances, to be optimistic about the outcome would be to lie to myself.

I sigh. “I appreciate the input.”

“As you should, little lady. You gotta listen to the common people.” He hoists all three of my bags over his shoulder with inhuman strength, taking a moment to balance them. “Ready to go?”

I push myself off the side of the carriage, my body accommodating the movement awkwardly. My heart has mostly calmed, my breathing steady, but something tells me trekking all the way to the demon lord’s castle would be an unwise decision. One that might be a little too hard on my body. While I can’t quite remember how long the journey is from here to the castle, my health also isn’t nearly as good as it was when I was a teenager.

“I don’t think I’ll make it,” I say, regarding the coachman with uncertainty. “It’s too far.”

He gives me an odd look. “After coming all this way? I’m pretty sure --”

“My -- my heart, I mean,” I say quickly, correcting myself. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk all the way. Not without falling over.”

I wait awkwardly as the coachman mulls it over for a moment, eyes wandering around the carriage. Certainly it would be fine to take the carriage right up to the front of the castle -- but such a decision would have to be made under normal circumstances. With such an important, private conference to be held within the span of the next few hours, castle security had likely been tightened regarding the admission of castle guests. A carriage other than Lord Diavolo’s could very well bear a few hidden assassins and weapons.

He fixes me with an oddly determined gaze. “You good at riding?”

“I’m sorry?”

* * *

My legs are still trembling when the coachman drops me and my bags off at the entrance hall of the castle. Still, it had been a worthwhile effort: my heart pulses only slightly abnormal rhythm, the stress only coming from the terrifying experience of riding horseback. The coachman had certainly found an alternative to me walking the distance to the castle from the front gate, but he had also implemented his idea in the worst way possible. With no seat, straps, or anything to hold onto, riding the demonic horse had been one of the most frightening experiences I had ever had the misfortune of experiencing. If one could even call it that: the six-legged beast bore too great of a maw to be considered anything close to a human world horse, his body seemingly composed of shadow and ash. But I hadn’t fallen off, at least. The hellbeast had chosen to go after game birds only a few times during the course of the short journey, taking my screaming body along its impromptu hunt for meat, and the coachman had been too burdened with both fits of laughter and my belongings to stop him.

Having my own two feet on the ground is a blessed, wonderful feeling.

A sound further ahead grabs my attention. I look in the direction of the noise, only to see Barbatos emerging from one of the corridors connecting to the entrance hall. He drops into a great, sweeping bow, clearly exaggerating the movement, and I can’t help but feel a mixture of both warmth and irritability at the sight. The sight of seeing such a good friend after so many years is relieving, especially considering the circumstances -- but his obvious amusement at my terror on the way to the castle is marginally irritating. He had likely delighted in the scene from the view of one of the castle windows.

He hasn’t changed at all.

“You’re looking well, my Lady,” he says, his expression showing only the barest hints of amusement. “Did you find the trip enjoyable?”

I frown. “No, but I’m sure you did. And you don’t have to call me that.”

“But it is fitting for your station,” he counters. “Is there another name you would prefer to be addressed by?”

“Something else.”

Barbatos nods. “ Brujita .”

“That’s -- that isn’t something you would use to address someone like me,” I say a little too quickly, a slight heat creeping up my cheeks. “How do you even remember that?”

“You act as if the years mean anything to an immortal being,” he observes, a vulpine smile beginning to play at his otherwise stoic expression. His mask slips only slightly. “Is there any particular reason I should not remember?”

I sigh, an answer forming on my lips -- but he turns before I can speak, heading in the direction of one of the corridors. I cast a glance over my to-be unattended things in the middle of the entrance hall, unsure what to do with them. Or myself, for that matter. The expectations of my exchange year likely don’t apply here now, especially not under such different circumstances. But he gives me a sidelong glance after his shoulder after a moment, as if he had expected me to follow without invitation.

If you don’t want to be left behind, I would suggest you quicken your pace.”

* * *

The castle, like most of its residents, is an entity that exists without the tarnish of time. Despite my utter confusion while traversing its halls, it is obvious that the castle has seen little, if any, change since my last visit. The stained glass windows stand tall and proud still, bearing the images of demonic rulers and great beasts. The same ornaments and anomalous art pieces hang on the walls of the corridors, looking down upon passerby. Uniformed servants run to and fro in the castle, bearing bedding, brooms, and other various cleaning supplies, and the  labyrinthine garden lies before the massive windows, each section of the garden bearing its own style of flora and sculptures.

And then there is the unchanging, nearly inscrutable demon walking just a few paces in front of me. His words mask my labored breathing as we continue along the corridor, and my pride thanks him over the beats of my pulsing, weak heart.

It is a kind gesture, truly.

My eye catches on a strange figure out of the corner of my eye, and I find my body instinctively turning in its direction. Pausing. Barbatos stops when he hears my footfalls cease, regarding me over his shoulder, and then he is following my line of sight. He comes to stand beside me after a moment.

“Are you fatigued?” he asks, studying me. His eyes linger on the hand that I have pressed to my heart -- a bad habit of mine -- and I quickly lower the hand to my side. “I can let Lord Diavolo know of your exhaustion, if need be. There is little need to expedite the meeting.”

I shake my head. “Not yet,” I say, trying to give him a reassuring smile. “I can go for a little longer.”

He is silent for a moment, perhaps considering refuting my words, but it is  his position that obstructs his decision. “As you wish, then.”

“When was this put in?” I ask, trying to redirect the conversation. My eyes regard the statue before me, its image shrouded in a strange semblance of familiarity. Yet I can’t quite remember when or where I had seen the statue. “Did a human sculptor make this?”

“Not very long ago,” he responds. “I commissioned it from an artist in the Devildom.”

“I didn’t take you as the artistic type.”

The statue depicts a serpent coiling around the body of a nude woman, segments of its body wrapping around her torso and neck. She bears an apple in her hands, her mouth poised to bite into the fruit, but the serpent’s tail around her eyes seems to prevent her from doing so. Blinding her. While one would take it as a violent figure at first glance -- especially considering the serpent’s fangs lodged in her neck -- the posture of the woman seems to indicate otherwise. She does not appear to struggle against the serpent’s coils, nor does she seem to be particularly perturbed about being restricted from consuming the fruit.

It is an oddly poetic piece.

“You would be correct.” Barbatos looks upon the statue with severe distaste, as if mulling over some unpleasant thought. I try to consider the piece in his eyes, my eyes lingering on different parts of the statue, but I am unable to identify the source of his disapproval. “It was a complete waste of time and money.”

My gaze flickers to his, inquiring. “Was it? It looks pretty well made.”

“Which is precisely why it was a waste.” Barbatos turns in the direction of the end of the corridor. A silent indication. “Lord Diavolo has instructed me to occupy your time until your meeting,” he says, studying me with a clinical eye. “If you require refreshments or rest, I would suggest you make your needs known now. I would prefer not to have any of our representatives collapse before tonight’s summit.”

I feel a pang of embarrassment under his scrutiny, the intensity of his gaze much stronger than before. “Am I allowed to refuse?”

“I would suggest that you not.”

CHAPTER 4