#i knew this was what i was in for when i chose a light color grout

[lynne-monstr]

tonight I'm cleaning my kitchen grout with a toothbrush and some vinegar. it's not exactly pleasant work but on the other hand, this is the first time in my life I've lived in a place that's mine enough that I care about the grout getting dirty. all my other places were rentals with old ugly linoleum floors. this place was too, until I ripped it out and replaced it with the coolest tile I've ever seen.

so yeah that's kind of cool.

[teamatsumu]

purple and pink. (rafayel x reader)

summary: you and rafayel cover yourselves in paint and (redacted).

word count: 3450

warnings: porn without plot, smut, swearing, nsfw, mdni, fem!reader

tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi

a/n: my brain is rotting for this man so this is just self indulgent crap atp

You weren’t exactly an artistic person.

You just never indulged in art before. Of course, you admired the craft and thought it was extremely difficult to actually create meaningful art. But you didn’t think you were a particularly creative person, nor did you think you had an eye for such stuff.

Ever since you began dating Rafayel, you would say your appreciation for art had definitely improved. How could it not, considering he spent all day creating it, and in the time he wasn’t, his world was still colored by the lens of it. Rafayel saw art everywhere he went, in the gentle roll of the water where it rippled in fountains, or the timid but pinpoint light of a lone star in a dark sky. He loved describing it to you, and the way he put it would make you look around twice. He had really changed the way you viewed the world.

What you were about to do now wasn’t exactly the kind of art that made you think deeply of the universe, but hey, not all art can make you question your existence. Sometimes you need to create….. lighter pieces.

Stepping back, you stared down at the bed sheet sized canvas you had stuck to the floor, sure that you had used enough adhesive to keep it temporarily in place. The clock on the far wall of the studio told you that Rafayel would be home in a little while, which meant you needed to start the next phase of your plan shortly. But first things first, you needed lighter clothes.

After you had switched your jeans and button down shirt for a thin, short robe, you began pulling down buckets of paint from the storage closet connecting to the main studio. You chose only two, a light purple and a light pink. Both colors you knew Rafayel liked using in his pieces. You might not know a whole lot about art, but you knew him inside out. And you also knew he would love this idea.

You spent the next few minutes going over the canvas with the two buckets, pouring a few globs of paint over it. Small, but dense, with lots of blank canvas around them so they could be spread. You decided to only do two or three globs of each color. After all, wasn’t the art in how the colors would move and slide on the canvas? This should be enough paint for that purpose.

Your face was heating up at the thought of what was about to happen, and you felt almost giddy. When was he going to be home? You couldn’t wait to get started.

As if on cue, the door of the studio clicked open, not making a single sound as your boyfriend lumbered in, closing the door behind him. His white shirt was loose, black pants tight, and you couldn’t help but admire his ass when he turned around to shut the door with a light snap.

“Hey-” He stopped almost immediately upon seeing you, eyeing the half empty paint can you were setting down and the flimsy robe covering your body. A body that was definitely naked under it.

“What are you doing?” You saw his eyes flick over you and then behind to eye the massive canvas you had laid out, along with the little circles of paint looking fresh and shiny on it. You gave him a grin.

“I was hoping we could collaborate for your next piece.” You tugged at his shirt until you both stood closer to the canvas, taking special joy in how confused he looked. His eyes kept darting all over the place to try and make sense of what was going on, and you had to stifle a giggle.

You thought to elaborate on your suggestion by slowly unbuttoning his crisp white shirt. Rafayel raised his eyebrows but didn’t stop you, probably curious to see what you were cooking. You tugged his shirt off his toned shoulders, before going to work on his pants. His hand finally seized yours, tilting his head so your eyes would meet his.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” His tone was amused. You hummed almost in thought, pulling your hand away. You tugged on the belt of your robe until it slipped free, and the front fell open. You saw the tips of Rafayel’s ears turn red, and his expression blanked a bit.

“You have paint. You have a canvas. And you have me.” Your voice was a low whisper. You reached into the bucket next to you, palms stretched, until they were both covered in paint. Then you reached one hand up and dragged your fingertips over his bare abs.

The cool paint made them contract a bit, and you heard the way his breath hitched under the touch. Four long streaks of pink now stood out against his pale skin. Finally, you looked back up to meet his gaze, his face inches from yours.

Rafayel’s blush had extended from his ears down to his neck, but the corner of his lip twitched up into a slow grin. His hands were eager as he undid the button of his pants, and you felt a thrill run up your spine. You watched him undress quickly. He was slow, smooth, as he lifted one precise hand to tug on the shoulder of your loose robe until it was falling off your shoulders and pooling at your feet.

He looked around and his eyes caught the second can of paint. Purple. He dipped his hands into it, and you watched him walk back over to you.

“Where did you get this idea, baby?” His voice had lost its confusion, coated in honey now, sultry and low, nearly a whisper, and you shivered when his breath hit your bare neck. He took advantage of the fact that your hair was pulled up and away from your shoulders, tracing gentle lips over the slope of your shoulder. Instinctively, your hands smoothed over his torso, and you were reminded of the paint on them, still wet, now swiped onto the man before you.

Rafayel hummed at the feeling and proceeded to return the favor, his hands set on your hips. The paint was cool on your skin, and you almost jumped at the temperature if it weren’t for his warm hands taking the feeling away in the next second. Your boyfriend gave your naked bodies a gentle tug backwards until you were stepping on paper, slight crinkling noises hitting your ears.

Gentle lips now made contact with yours, and you sighed in relief. You had missed this, just the feeling of him kissing you. You had been thinking about it- and other things- all day, and you were so excited to start. Hands caressed over each other slowly but eagerly, and you couldn’t even begin to imagine how much paint you had managed to get on each other.

Your kisses became more hurried, more firm, and you could feel Rafayel’s body temperature rise a bit. His breath stuttered when you moaned into his mouth, tongues dancing together in a synchronized battle. He nibbled at your bottom lip and you arched deeply into him, nails digging into his biceps.

“Fuck, the paint is drying.” You managed to gasp out when your lips separated, his mouth finding the skin behind your ear immediately. He sucked hard on it, until you shivered and let out a long, shaky breath. Your knees were so weak, and you were glad for his strong arms wrapped around your waist, since it was the only thing currently holding you up.

He hummed against your skin, not letting up on the marks he was marring it with. You had discovered pretty early on that Rafayel was a biter, and marks on your skin was another way he created art. It just so happened that you enjoyed the feeling more than you could ever think to describe.

“Good thing you laid more out for us then.” He responded, referring to the globs just below your feet, before tugging you down until you were sprawled on the canvas below you. It was cool under your skin, and you felt something wet just under your shoulder. Oh. Your eyes met Rafayel’s before they finally traveled down his body for the first time since you two had started. You gulped in a deep breath.

His pale skin was covered in purple and pink streaks, like smooth color streaked over brilliant porcelain. The ridges and bumps of his muscles stood out even more under the paint, and you could tell in a few places the exact route your hands had taken, pink running over his waist and down his V-line. The remnants of the journey your fingers took stood before you, proud on his skin. You felt a thrill run through you at the sight, something stirred in your core.

“This is turning you on.” Rafayel observed, a light smirk resting on his face. You felt your body burn at the teasing lilt of his voice.

“As if this isn’t something you’ve dreamed of doing.” You retaliated, opening your legs so he could fit himself between them, resting his elbows on either side of you so your faces were a hairbreadth away. He hummed and sighed, lowering his body until his erection grazed right over your center, making you gasp.

“Believe me, I’ve dreamed of this.” He sighed, reached for the paint to the left and just above your head. You watched him cover his palm with it before he reached down, hooking a hand under your knee and pulling it up until it folded against your torso. The paint was wet on your skin, and you were learning to love the feeling more and more. His cock prodded your entrance, now on full display for him. He gave you another mischievous smirk.

“Baby I’m about to ruin you so bad.”

The first slide of him inside you had you crying out and arching into him, his cock carving its way through your unprepped hole and bringing with it a burn so delicious it made your head spin. When he bottomed out, he moaned unabashedly into your ear, hot breath hitting the shell of it and sending shivers through your spine. Your core clenched and unclenched rapidly, trying to adjust to the glorious intrusion. Your brain screamed at him to move, to slide in and out, do anything at all. You needed to feel him rock into you. Your hips twitched and jerked, making your boyfriend moan before he finally started moving.

His thrusts started out languid, smooth, gliding in and out of you at a reasonable pace. You sighed, head leaned back and reveling in the feeling it brought, leg tensing under his grip. Little tendrils of pleasure zipped up from where you were connected, heavy cock stretching you open until your pussy was adequately wet, ready to take the pounding you knew was inevitably coming your way.

And oh, did you receive it.

Slowly, steadily, Rafayel picked up the pace until his hips were smacking hard into your pelvis, knocking every breath from your lungs. You cried out, one arm thrown over his shoulder while the other seeked desperate purchase under you, used to the feeling of silk sheets but now met with nothing but smooth, stretched out canvas and the wet sensation of sticky color. Rafayel used the grip he had on your knee to twist your leg out further, inviting him to hit that one spot that made you see stars. A broken wail left your mouth and your back arched impossibly high, hearing a low moan hit your ear when you clenched tight around the cock pounding into you.

“F-fuck, Rafi-” His head lifted, just enough to connect your lips in a desperate slurry of rushed kisses, sucking and biting on your lips as his pace didn’t so much as stutter. Your moans dissolved straight into his mouth, little pornographic ‘yeah, yeah, yeah’s slipping out with every thrust. You didn’t bother muffling them, knowing exactly what the noises did for Rafayel’s ego, and with how he was ravishing you currently, you were okay with giving him a little ego boost.

(You would deal with the consequences of that later.)

“Gonna cum-” You managed to choke out just as your orgasm rammed into you with no warning, effectively silencing any other words as you cried and shook through it, muscles seized tight and legs kicking in the air.

“God- fuck,” Rafayel’s first words. “There you go. Fuck, that’s it.”

He fucked you through the last vestiges of your high before his arms slipped under your arched waist and lifted you up, rolling over until you were perched on his hips, throbbing cock still nestled inside you. The change in position made him slide in deeper, and you let out a broken moan. Your orgasm was still lingering around the edges, encouraging you to prolong the feeling, to chase after it again. And so you did. You rolled your hips, placing your hands on Rafayel’s abs as leverage to push your body up and down. You finally took a good look at your boyfriend.

His chest was heaving with exertion, shining under the glow of the lights above you, catching on the swirling mixes of purple and pink. Under the paint, his skin glistened with sweat, tensing and straining under his movements. The paint had reached all the way up the side of his neck, and even into his hair, blending with the purple tresses. The purple complimented his eyes, half lidded and heavy with lust, his lip was tucked under his teeth.

He was a vision.

“Baby, you’re so fucking beautiful.” His voice was fractured and strained, and in your staring you had forgotten that you were also the object of his gaze. You couldn’t imagine how you looked right now, slathered with paint and hot under the stimulation you were receiving, strands of hair leaving your bun and trailing down over your face and neck. You rolled your hips and tightened hard around his cock, watching the way his jaw slackened and eyes rolled shut. Another zip of pleasure ran through you, and you couldn’t help but keen, pushing yourself to go faster, to make him feel even better.

“I’m- I’m so close.” You could feel your vision swim, tears gathering in your lash line as his cock dug deep into your core, prodding into your spongy walls in all the right ways. Rafayel grabbed both your wrists off his chest, pulling them behind your back and then tugging you down until your body was pinned tight against his. You let him do as he pleased, planting his feet on the canvas before he started thrusting hard and fast up into your sopping cunt.

You screamed and arched, body tensing at the pace he set, chin resting on his shoulder and head thrown back as you let him carry you face first into another orgasm, gushing around him until the sounds of his thrusts grew impossibly wetter, sloppier than the paint around you and covering you, blabbering incoherent phrases and curses as tears poured from your eyes. With every thrust, the ecstasy prolonged itself, like an endless high that came with intense drugs, except all you needed was him, and he would get you there if it was the last thing he did.

Your perspective was shifting, Rafayel’s cock leaving you until you felt cold and empty. He maneuvered you onto your hands and knees, or rather, arms and knees since you felt that you couldn’t even hold yourself up at this point. A firm hand pushed on your back until it arched to his liking, spreading you until he could slide his massive length back into you with little to no resistance. You whimpered pathetically, eyes rolling unhindered in your head, cheek smushed into the paper beneath you. Briefly, you felt like you could almost taste the paint, but the thought left your brain faster than cigarette smoke dissipating on a windy day when Rafayel started moving again.

“Stop me if you can’t take it.”

You could never, would never stop him, not when your pussy keened at the feeling of his cock filling you up to fulfillment once more. Especially not when he planted a foot on your side that gave him leverage to thrust harder and stronger into you. Your body buzzed and reveled under the feeling of being used like this, basking in the sounds coming from Rafayel getting heavier and choppier as he finally chased his own orgasm instead of yours. You wanted nothing more than for him to warm you up, fill you with his seed until you couldn’t take any more of it. Your depraved mind was wiped blank of everything else except that crushing need.

“Cum in me.” You managed to whine, clenching hard around him. Rafayel moaned and his hips stuttered.

“Fuck. I’m gonna- I’m cumming baby, take it, take it, take it, take it-” Your body jostled at the strength of his thrusts, once, twice, and then he was slamming his cock deep into you and holding it there, hot spurts of cum hitting your walls. Painting your insides white like your bodies had painted your outsides purple and pink.

Your entire body collapsed on itself when Rafayel pulled out, dropping onto the paper heavily as you tried to catch your breath. Your vision was swimming and so was your head, unable to do anything but focus on the faint buzz in your muscles. You could hear shuffling somewhere behind you before you were being lifted into strong arms. You sighed and curled into them, seeking the warmth of your boyfriend after the beating your body just took. And he was happy to provide it- in the tub he ran for you while both of you settled into warm water.

You dozed in and out of sleep as Rafayel cleaned you up, giggling and humming along with whatever little anecdotes he was telling you. He knew you would barely remember most of it later, considering how dopey and spacey you got after sex. You pouted and leaned up to him every few minutes, stealing tiny kisses from his lips. And afterwards, you let him pat you dry and put you to bed in the usual “princess treatment” he gave you after one of your sessions. The only time he backed off from teasing you relentlessly and instead doted on you properly.

You couldn’t tell how long you slept, but you woke up feeling well rested. The bed next to you was empty but still slightly warm, and you could hear quiet shuffling outside in the studio.

Your muscles screamed when you forced them to move, your hips and thighs feeling like particular sore spots. You ignored the feeling in favor of pulling a shirt off the floor to throw over your body, realizing it was your boyfriend’s when it fell all the way to your thighs. You trudged out of the room while rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You saw him standing with his back to you, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. The muscles of his bare back shifted as he moved, now clear of all the paint you two had slathered on it. Oh right, the paint.

Your eyes shifted behind him to the canvas, which Rafayel had propped up against the wall now, and was observing silently. You walked closer to admire the streaks of pink and purple on it, watching it carefully. Somehow, the choppy strokes showed your desperation, your passion, and you felt your face heat up at the thought.

“Looks pretty.” Your voice was slightly rough. Rafayel turned around at the sound and gave you a soft smile, pulling you closer and wrapping his arms around you from behind as you both stared. You settled into his warmth as you swayed gently back and forth.

“Why’re you thinking so hard about it?” You asked.

You turned your head to watch as he huffed and pouted a bit. He looked so cute, you bit back the urge to squish his cheeks.

“Pretty sure there’s some cum in there somewhere.”

Aaaaaand the urge was gone.

You smacked his chest hard, making him jerk back and laugh, but not releasing his hold on you.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Not more than you.”

He kissed you before you could land another smack, hand cupping your jaw to tilt your head back. You fought to keep a grin down, but failed when you felt his lips stretch with a smile of his own, erupting into giggles.

[silken-moonlight]

1000 Special: Vamp!Emporer and his new concubine

A/N: It's official, to celebrate my 1,000 followers, this will become a mini-series!

The sun rose in the morning sky, its light slipping through the heavy curtains of the emperor's bedroom. A ray of morning sun kissed the exposed skin of your back, warming it gently. You found yourself in the arms of the emperor, your head on his chest and your legs entangled with his. His skin was cool beneath yours, and you enjoyed the feeling of it. You wanted to place kisses on his cool skin, but you didn't dare to move, lest you destroy this moment. So you stayed like this, letting out a sigh and relaxing back into his touch.

A chuckle left his lips as he looked down at you. You looked up at him, meeting his deep red eyes. His gaze was almost gentle. "Good morning, little love," he purred, his eyes traveling down your body as he smiled, admiring the bites he'd left on your neck and shoulders. "Good morning, Your Majesty," you replied, your voice still carrying a hint of hoarseness. Something flickered in his eyes when you said that. He sat up, releasing you. The sun illuminated his dark hair, dancing over his face as he closed his eyes for a moment.

“I will go now to get dressed and ready for the day,” he informed you as he got up. “I will leave as soon as you wish.” You immediately answered, sitting up. Already you could feel your sore legs and sensitive private parts. The bite marks began to itch and heal as well. He tutted at your answer. “Have you learned nothing from yesterday?” You blushed and kept silent. He chuckled. You saw him reach out to you, but he stopped himself and got out of bed instead. “I will send someone to take care of you today,” he continued, putting on a dressing gown to leave the room. “I will not return until late this evening,” were his next words to you, not that you really knew what you were supposed to do with that information.

“You will wait for me when I return.” His voice was dark and stern, the same voice that chose you the day you had been added to the harem. The door slammed shut behind him, and you lay back, thinking about last night with a blush on your face. Suddenly, the door opened, and two servants entered. You sat up, clutching the blanket.

“We're here to take care of you.” One said, the woman of the two said. “We will bring something you can wear for now and bring you breakfast.” The man informed her. “Then we will go to the bathhouse.” The woman added. You simply nodded, just going along with it. In a matter of minutes they brought you a beautiful dressing gown to put over your naked form, Bringing you a lush breakfast to enjoy in bed. You thanked them, eating it up since you realized how hungry and thirsty you were. Your breakfast consisted of fruits, sweet bread, and various kinds of jams. You were surprised to taste how much better the things tasted than what you usually ate.

When you were finished, they brought you to the bathhouse. They stripped you and ordered you to sit down in a bathtub. The woman began to wash your hair and massage your scalp while the man began to do a manicure on your hands. They took their time. Masks were put in your hair and on your face. Your skin was dry-brushed, peeled, and washed with different sponges. You offered to help, but they stopped you, telling you that you were supposed to enjoy it and not do it yourself. When the water lost its heat, they helped you out, drying you with the softest towels and putting almond oil on your skin. They put rose oil behind your ears, oil on your nails and fingers, and lip balm on your lips, tinting it with the color of pressed rose petals. You had never felt this clean and pampered.

It didn't stop there, you were brought back to the emperor's bedroom. There you ate a wonderful small lunch. Only the finest Red meat and well cooked vegetables were given to you. You felt so privileged, trying not to enjoy it too much. A dress Was laid out for you. It was white with golden Details.

And then you waited for him. Hours passed, but finally the door opened and he stepped in. He didn't even close the door and looked down at you. He smiled, and you swallowed hard, waiting for him to speak. "Have they taken care of you?" he asked, and you nodded. He took a step inside, shutting the door.

"I have rules for you to follow. Will you do that for me?" He asked as he took in the sight of you: Kneeling on his bed in a white, flowy dress...it made him want to kiss you. Maybe he should have a painter paint you like this so he could have this image forever.

You nodded, earning a smile. "In private you will Adress me by my name. When we have sex You will address me as 'master.'" You listened and nodded. He came closer. "If you talk to anybody about anything that happens between us, you will lose any privilege you had." Again, you nodded. With that he closed the diffrence and kissed you. You melted into his touch.

"By the holy night...I need someone like you." He whispered and kissed you again as if his life depended on it. "My beloved, my own..." he continued, making you gasp as you realized what he had just said...

Divider credit: @thecutestgrotto

Taglist: @blushycadaver

[heechwe]

dancing with our hands tied ↦ sjy

⋆ pairing: sim (jake) jaeyun x fem!reader ⋆ word count: 7.7k ⋆ genre: semi-angst, fluff, smut (18+/mdni!) ⋆ tags: brothersbsf!jake, minor age difference, college au, friends with benefits, secret relationship, light choking, semi-public sex, oral (f + m receiving), fingering penetration, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex folks). ⋆ synopsis: What began as a simple friends-with-benefits situation with your brother's best friend has turned into something deeper, and you now find that your emotions are more complicated than you initially thought. ➸ bless @temptaetions for giving me so much amazing dialogue to work with and @sweetvenomnet for getting me through finishing this monster!

You did not envision Sunday morning sitting across from your brother, concealing the bottom half of your body with your comforter and Jake next to you in bed. Jay’s face is a jumble of shock and anger, fists balled at his sides. You’re unsure if he’s ready to kick his best friend’s ass or throw him out by his neck, or both.

“How the fuck did this fucking happen,” Jay yells.

Well, you think, the beginning is a lot easier to explain than where we’re at now…

The first night you slept with Jake six months ago was like any other. Jay, your older brother by two years, was home with his best friend for the weekend. They had bonded over their freshman year as dorm buddies and Jay immediately inserted Jake into the family. “He’s like the brother I never had,” Jay would say when people would comment on them being attached at the hip.

It was not unusual for the two of them to stay over at your parents’ house when they were back in town. The university was more than three hours away. If they tried to drive home the same day, it would only end in a headache thanks to the rush-hour traffic. 

It was nice to see Jay succeeding though, his footsteps being ones you’d hope to follow in one day. He had it all figured out, while you were anything but decided. Still unsure about what to do now that you had graduated, you chose to stay home and attend community college in the meantime.

But Jay occasionally being back in your presence meant he had to fulfill his annoying brotherly roles, like boring you with tales of campus and admonishing you for risqué outfit choices.

Like that night.

He stopped you short at the door with judgmental eyes scanning up and down your dress. “Absolutely not.”

You scoffed and pushed him out of your way. The dress hugged your curves just right and the color fit your aestethic. You knew when you bought it that the length wasn’t ideal for everyday wear, but it was perfect for a night out. Jay wouldn’t tell you otherwise. “You don’t have to act like Dad, dude.”

“Listen,” he said, rolling his eyes. “We all know you’re a woman. You don’t need to prove it with a little black dress.”

“Unless you’re blind, this dress is blue,” you mocked him.

“You know what I mean, smart-ass! You’re not leaving wearing that!”

“What’s going on,” Jake called from the kitchen.

“My sister’s about to walk out of the house in a napkin,” Jay responded, sarcasm dripping from his mouth.

“You’re such a prick,” you said, crossing your arms.

Jake sauntered into the sitting room, a bag of chips in his hand. He was taken back by the outfit, his eyes slowly trailing down your body. His Adam’s apple bobbed as Jay continued on his tirade about modesty to nobody but the air.

“You look pretty,” Jake said finally. He popped a chip in his mouth.

Your cheeks turned red instantly. Jay’s best friend wasn’t unattractive to look at, not in the slightest, so hearing him say such a thing even in quick passing made your body tense.

Before you could thank him for the compliment, Jay coughed like he swallowed his own spit.

“Did you just say she looks pretty?” Jay asked in his best friend’s direction.

Jake chomped down on another chip. “What,” he said, his mouth full.

“If I heard that right, you just said my sister looks pretty in her dress.”

“Yes?” Jake’s expression morphed into confusion as your brother’s face went pale.

“Do you have a death wish?” Jay asked.

“Bro, c’mon—”

“No, seriously. Do you?”

You backed up towards the door, making sure not to clack your heels too hard on the tile to be noticed.

Jay, however, sensed your escape. “I meant it! You’re not leaving without putting something else on.”

“Seongie, stop being an asshole. I’m gonna be late,” you whined.

“Dude, all I said was that she looked pretty,” Jake butted in.

Jay turned his focus back to him. “You said the girl you fucked at that club on Fifth was pretty.”

“Bro, I’m not gonna fuck—” Jake ran his free hand through his hair, smiling in incredulity at the ridiculous conversation. “Just trust me.”

“Finish that sentence.”

Jake scoffed, mouth agape. “What the hell, man?”

“Finish. The. Sentence. Jaeyun.”

“Okay, if you’re done being weirdly overprotective and Jaeyun’s done taking back his compliment, I have a happy hour to go to.”

Jay was so preoccupied with Jake at that point that he barely registered your words and your exit from the house. Before he could protest again, Jake interrupted him.

“I’m not going to fuck your sister, Jong,” he says.

“Thanks, that’s reassuring,” Jay responded.

As you closed the door, you heard Jake say, “But if she fucks me, that’s a different story.”

Despite walking down the cobblestone pathway, you heard Jake’s cries from your older brother whacking him. Jay screamed, “You sick fuck!”

Your cheeks felt hot when you finally got inside of your friend’s car. You greeted them with a smile when you sat in the back seat, but your mind kept playing back Jake’s words. He must have had enough pickings on campus and in his hometown to keep him satisfied. He didn’t need to put his effort or interest in you. There’s no way that he would, right?

Five hours later, the clock just shy of 1 AM, you stepped quietly inside to not wake your parents. Tiptoeing up the stairs to your room, you didn’t see Jay’s bedroom light on, certain he was fast asleep. That gave you some relief knowing he didn’t stick around to admonish you for not listening to his forceful advice.

What you weren’t expecting was Jake to be sprawled out on your bed, his body akin to a limp starfish. He had been scrolling endlessly through his Instagram feed until you creaked open the door to your room.

A silent scream jolted your pulse. “Jaeyun, what the fuck are you doing here?” you asked.

“Jongseong told me to wait for you. He wanted to make sure you got home safe,” Jake said absentmindedly, like being in your bed is a natural occurrence by now.

You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes. “Helicopter Himbo couldn’t do that himself?”

“He linked up with some girl he knows…Dahyun I think was her name?”

You sighed. Of course Jay had to hook up with his high school ex when he had no other options to exhaust. You thought Jay had higher standards than that at this point in his life, but he was still Jay.

You nodded. The soles of your feet throbbed from wearing your heels longer than you intended to. You tried to hide the pain on your face, but Jake was quick to walk over to you and feign concern.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah. I’m just slightly buzzed and I’d like to see the inside of my eyelids and forget how bad my feet hurt right now.” You released a breathless laugh. “You can text my doofus of a brother and tell him I’m in one piece.” 

You practically motioned your head towards the door, but Jake only smirked in response.

“Well, first things first, let’s take these off.” Before you knew it, Jake leaned down and began unbuckling the clasps of your stilettos for you. The sight made the alcoholic buzz running through your veins mutate into something sensual. You felt the ache between your legs as Jake’s fingers caressed the skin of your ankle as he was taking off your shoes for you, and immediately you remembered who he was.

This was wrong, and in no way going to happen. Not with someone who your brother confided in and loved so dearly. No matter how it felt every time you looked at him, or if he did intimate things like this that made you question everything.

“I meant what I said earlier you know,” Jake whispered. “And I wasn’t trying to take it back when Jongseong was grilling me about it.”

“I get it. He can be intense sometimes,” you mumbled.

“But you did look pretty. Fuck, you still do.” Jake chuckled to himself and positioned your feet out of the shoes and onto the carpet floor. The fabric felt cool against your toes, and instinctively you released a pleasurable sigh.

“So much better,” you moaned, smiling. “Thank you.”

Jake stood up, his grin infectious. “My pleasure.”

Neither of you moved, and admittedly you were glad Jake hadn’t made his exit yet. In the blur between your gratitude and onslaught of confusing feelings, the tether between your head and your body loosened. 

Then you were kissing him. You were kissing your brother’s best friend and enjoying it very much, an amalgamation of all the passing glances you threw at him when Jay wasn’t looking and the semi-flirty conversations coming to a head in your lips and tongue.

Jake was kissing you back with the same fervor, his hands roaming to the curve of your ass and groaning in your mouth at the sensation of your bodies touching.

“Fuck,” Jake swore and pulled you in tighter, clutching at the hem of your dress.

In a tangle of fingers and lips, you almost didn’t register the feeling of your mattress against your back and the cool air on your skin when Jake pulled the dress down your body. But you did relish in the feeling of his tongue between your legs and how deliciously he slipped inside of you afterwards. And by that point, there was no time to regret and worry about what would happen next. All that mattered was the present and savoring it.

Three weeks after that first encounter, it was easy to forget it ever happened. The next morning, Jay and Jake had gone back to campus without a word. That was normal for them, seeing as they woke early and didn’t want to disturb anyone in the house.

For you, it was a bit disheartening, but it proved exactly what you knew. It was a mistake and a potential repeat was nonexistent. “Jeong’ll never find out and this can stay buried,” you told yourself.

Jay was too busy with his studies to respond with anything but one-word answers to your texts after that, so you gave up initiating anything. Jake, however, began texting you often to either greet you in the morning or say he hoped you were having a good day. It was sweet, but you didn’t read too deep into it. You replied in kind and left it at that.

Then, the boys came back one Friday afternoon in Jake’s Tahoe, and your nerves were live wires at their impromptu arrival. You had not seen Jake since that night in your bedroom. You felt the heaviness of guilt when you welcomed Jay home with a hug. A secret shouldn’t have had the power to eat you alive,  but it did all the same.

And it didn’t help seeing Jake either. His smile took you back to the hours you had spent together in your bed. It was a kaleidoscope of memories. His hands on your hips, his whispers in your ear, his mouth in between your legs— 

“Yo!” Jay waved his hand in front of your face. “I asked if you could help us with the last duffel bag.”

“Yeah, of course,” you said, walking over to the trunk. Jake’s shoulder brushed yours as you moved past him, and you couldn’t help the way your breath hitched. If you weren’t deluding yourself, you could’ve sworn you heard his throat catch in the same way.

You decided to leave the house that night, meeting up with a classmate to take your mind off of what was waiting at home. The Uber driver was polite, not bothering you as you were lost in your thoughts. Thankfully, the tequila sunrise you gulped down numbed your thought processes long enough that you could unwind and converse without rambling on about the situation you were in.

Then, you heard the ping of your phone and saw Jake’s message light up the screen.

Received at 11:23 PM: I’m picking you up. JS doesn’t want you taking an Uber when you’re not sober.

You sighed and typed back a reply with the hand not holding your drink. The words might have been mistyped, but you knew the message would get across to him.

Sent at 11:27 PM: im find u dont ned to come th last guy w nice.

Received at 11:29 PM: Sure. I’ll be there in 15.

You groaned. Jake could be as stubborn as your brother; it was no surprise the two of them became such good friends.

When Jake’s arrival came closer, you said goodbye and walked out of the bar, kicking your feet on the sidewalk gravel while you waited.

His truck’s lights came into full view a minute later. You got inside without a word, leaning your forehead against the passenger window. Just because he was being stubborn didn’t mean you had to be okay with it.

“Have fun?” Jake kept his focus on the road, but he sounded sincere when he asked about your night. While your heart swelled at the tone of his voice, it made the thoughts you tried so hard to suppress creep back in with full force. You were at a loss as to what to say. Honesty was off the table, but you weren’t capable of pulling your heart from your sleeve.

“I was. Not anymore.” You pouted.

You didn’t let him respond to your comment, instead looking around at his car’s interior and changing the subject. “I didn’t expect you to own a Tahoe.”

“What do you mean?” He asked with a chuckle.

“It’s so much space for one person.”

“Well, it was my dad’s truck. He gave it to me before I left for school. Now, I use it to go hiking and stuff with my dog, Layla.”

You smiled and leaned into the seat, looking at him. “That’s hard to believe.”

“That I have a dog or that I actually do physical activity? You’ve seen my body.”

You giggled and turned away. “I guess both. I’ve always wanted a dog, but Jungseong’s allergic. My parents thought plushies were a good compromise. And it all makes sense now. You can’t be that handsome naturally.”

Jake laughed harder. Without warning, he put his hand on your thigh, the feeling foreign yet incredibly welcome. You hummed in pleasure at the sensation. While you would’ve loved to enjoy the moment, your logic kicked in at the scene playing out in front of you.

“Jaeyun, you can’t just do that.”

“Why not? I wanted to,” he confessed, squeezing the curve of your knee. He moved his hand slowly across your skin.

You bit your lip and shook your head. “Just because you want to doesn’t mean you should.”

“Are we still talking about my hand or something else?” You gave him a stern but cutting look, the Are you kidding me evident in your eyes. It made Jake curse into the open air. “Fuck this.”

Jake pulled off into a vacant parking lot of a convenience store, one lamppost barely lighting the surrounding area. He put the car in park with an aggressive fist on the stick shift.

“Okay,” he started. “You want to talk about that night? Let’s talk about it.”

He inhaled a breath. You were terrified of what was unsaid and what he planned on saying, but you knew it was better to put it to rest sooner rather than later.

“I’m not sorry for what happened that night. I liked it and I liked you.” He looked directly into your eyes, his pupils dilating with extreme vulnerability. “I like you. And I’d like to repeat that night as many times as you want, but you’re my best friend’s sister and I don’t know how to accept those two things being true at once.”

You were taken back, his words the ones you wish you could have said to him before he left that morning. You tried to stamp down the truth many times since then, but Jake feeling the exact same way made you realize it wasn’t wrong to want what you wanted.

And Jay didn’t have to know everything.

“I do too,” you responded. “I like you too, and that night is all I’ve been thinking about.” You felt the knot in your stomach loosen, smiling in surprise from his confession. “And I would like to have more of those nights, for sure. In more than just my bed.”

Jake smirked and leaned in closer to you, lips ghosting over yours. “So if I said I wanted to fuck you in my car, you’d let me?”

You didn’t respond to that question with words, both of you knowing the question itself was rhetorical. You pressed your mouth to his hard.

The kiss was a clash of teeth and tongue, the act a desperate plea to pull each other closer after weeks of not being together. Now that you had Jake where you wanted him, you weren’t letting him go. 

Jake palmed one of your breasts over your shirt, and you partially broke away from his mouth to moan. He swallowed it, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth.

“You like that?” Jake asked, his voice husky.

“Fuck yes,” you said, knowing it was the truth. Nothing felt better than his touch on your skin.

He grabbed the side of your throat with his free palm. The other was hovering over the waistband of your shorts, his thumbs deftly unbuttoning them and dragging the zipper down.

“Tell me now if you don’t want this,” he panted. “And I swear I’ll stop.”

You shook your head vigorously. “If you stop right now, Jaeyun, I might just have to kill you.”

Jake gave you a crooked smile and kissed you again, harder than the first time but just as pleasurable.

His fingers dipped into your underwear, and you both groaned when he found your clit. He was surprised that the little amount of foreplay already made you this wet. You were just glad to have his fingers where you needed them the most.

You moved your hips in rhythm with his digits, the figure-eight patterns he was drawing into your skin creating stars behind your eyes. You released numerous whimpers and gasps into Jake’s mouth as he kept rubbing up and down your pussy, your clit receiving the most attention.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Jaeyun, I need you inside of me, please,” you begged. You gripped onto his shirt tightly to emphasize how bad the desire was to feel him stretch you open.

He nipped your lips again. “Climb in the back seat, baby.”

Jake followed in suit as soon as you moved from the passenger seat to the back. Once he sat down, you had his pants around his ankles and the head of his dick lined up with your entrance, your panties moved to the side to make room for him.

The fullness of his cock filling you to the hilt made your eyelids flutter. Jake knocked the back of his head into one of the headrests, the groan that left his mouth so beautiful you wished you could’ve replayed the sound on loop.

“God, you’re so tight.” He pushed his hips up further into you, the tip kissing your cervix. “It’s fucking incredible.”

You moaned in agreement. Beginning to grind his hips into yours, you licked and sucked the spot behind Jaeyun’s ear. You remembered how much he loved it the first night you had sex, and he loved it even more now that you were partially in control riding him.

He bucked up into you here and there, but for the most part, you were setting the pace. The sounds of your skin slapping against each other as well as both of your moan-laced expletives filled the back seat.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Bounce on this cock. Show me how much you want me.” He trapped your hips with his hands, holding on tight as you continued to grind against him.

“I want to come so bad, Jae,” you gasped. “Please make me come.”

Jake took his index and middle finger and found your clit again. He circled the nub with tenderness as you continued to ride him without mercy. He knew he could come at anytime with how well you were touching him and taking all of him inside of you, but he had no problem waiting until you found your pleasure first.

You felt the orgasm creeping up on you, starting in the pit of your stomach and ready to come to the surface. You begin to grow sloppy with your rhythm, and Jake took extra effort with his fingers to push you over the edge.

“Let go for me, love. Come all over me.”

You cried out, clutching onto Jake’s hair hard as you rode out your orgasm to its full capacity. Jake let go in that same moment, painting your insides white and cursing the entire time at how good it felt.

When you sat down next to him in the back seat, both of you sated and breathless, you knew the path forward was uncertain. And sure, a million questions still lingered in your mind, but you stored them away without a second thought, refusing to let them ruin your current happiness.

This led to where you were with Jake for the past six months, having sex every time he was in town and even sneaking off to visit him when you had the chance. He would pick you up in his truck and hold your hand across the console the entire drive to and from his student apartment. The two of you were skilled at keeping your trysts out of sight from Jay both in your hometown and on campus, the local spots he wanted to take you to and your favorite hometown stores not ones Jay frequented often.

At the same time, Jay had gotten back into a relationship with Dahyun, but you were optimistic for the both of them this time around. He seemed to be really happy, as were you, although he didn’t know the reason why. Dahyun would hang out with the guys and you when she got off work, and the four of you would drink and watch movies together like any other couples would.

The only part that didn’t fit such a picture perfect image was the fact you and Jake were not a couple at all. You slept together and did most things boyfriends and girlfriends did, but there were no labels. It was as if saying it out loud would make it real, and then you’d have to confront the biggest hurdle of all: telling your brother. And you were determined to put that off for as long as possible.

One morning, as you made breakfast in the kitchen for all three of you, Jake slid in behind you without you noticing. You gasped, feeling his chest against your back. “Jae, you can’t do that!”

“Couldn’t help it. Smelled pretty good in here,” Jake responded, kissing the spot that joined your neck and shoulder together, his hair tickling your ear in the process.

“I know, I can’t wait to eat it.”

“I was gonna say the same thing.” Jake smirked.

“Jae,” you reprimanded him, grinning. “Jongseong could come down at any second.”

“But he’s not. Last time I checked, he was still asleep.” The curve of his lips touched your collarbone, making you shiver.

“And when was that?”

In that moment, you both heard Jay yelling “I did it!” in tandem with his quick steps down the staircase. You both split apart in record time. Jake pretended he was searching for a drink in the fridge while you flipped the fried egg in the pan.

“I finally did it,” Jay exclaimed, a wide smile on his face directed at Jake.

“Did what?” Jake asked.

“I got you a date with Dahyun’s cousin Jihyo tonight. Dahyun’s been dying to go out to this new restaurant downtown, and I know you’ve been lacking in the pussy department lately.” You felt the saliva in the back of your mouth hit the wrong pipe, and you coughed.

“You okay, sis?” Jay asked, grabbing you by the shoulder.

“Yeah. Just choked for a second, sorry.” There was nothing wrong with Jake going out; he had no obligations to you. Yet, at the same time, the thought of him finding someone new felt like acid on your tongue.

Jay turned back to Jake, excitement filling his features again. “Come on man, you haven’t picked anyone up in what? Five months? Either your game got terrible or you’ve been holding out on me about some new chick.”

You plopped the fried egg on the plate next to you and motioned for Jake to pick it up. “Over medium, how you like it.”

“How do you know his egg order, freak?” Jay questioned you with a chuckle.

“I asked him this morning, dingbat. While you were snoring in your room and told me to leave so you could get your beauty rest.” Jay gave you the middle finger but you didn’t pay attention to him. You looked back at Jake with shy eyes. “You want toast?”

“No thank you,” Jake said with a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. You could tell when Jake was uncomfortable. His entire body grew stiff at the thought of being roped into a double date with a stranger.

But, avoiding suspicion, Jake said, “Sure man. Can’t promise I’ll be into her, though.”

Jay smiled and patted his friend on the shoulder. “I’ll take it.”

When Jay ran back upstairs to call Dahyun with the news, Jake dropped his plate back on the counter. He suddenly pinned you against it with his hands on your waist, forcing you to look at him. “I don’t have to go on this date if you don’t want me to.”

You shook your head, the faintest frown on your face, hoping it looked more like an expression of indifference. “If you don’t, Seongie’s going to ask more questions. Besides, we’re not together. You don’t have to ask for my permission.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.” He furrowed his eyebrows. If there was one emotion you didn’t show him often, it was ice. But if the alternative was being emotionally exposed in that moment, you would choose the former.

“You know what I mean.” You broke free from his grasp, swallowing the bitter taste in your mouth. You turned off the stove and threw the sizzling pan into the sink. “Hope you have fun.”

Jake waited for you to elaborate, but after a minute of silence, he admitted his defeat and walked out of the kitchen. It cracked a piece of your heart to be so cold, but what other choices were on the table?

Once he was gone, you grabbed your phone from your pocket. Typing out the number in your mind and pressing the call button, you hoped the man you were looking for answered.

“Sunghoon?” You spoke, relieved he picked up. “I need a huge favor.”

“Do I have to?” Sunghoon groaned, straightening the collar of his polo shirt. “This is so ridiculous.”

“Hold my fucking hand, Hoon, or I swear to god I will tell Professor Choi you used my essay on Machiavelli for your paper.”

He released a low, agitated sound and put his hand in yours, squeezing your palm in retaliation. You smiled and walked into the restaurant. 

You didn’t go all out with your outfit. A simple dress and denim jacket fit with the atmosphere of the Brazilian barbecue joint Dahyun wanted to check out. Sunghoon also followed your instructions to the letter, looking presentable without trying too hard.

The hostess made you both wait fifteen minutes or so for a table. Even at 9 PM on a Saturday, past normal dinner time for most folks, the business was still bustling due to the word of mouth from their grand opening a week ago. It didn’t take long though for you to find Jay and Jake sitting at a table in a corner booth. It was like Jake’s presence in any tiny or expansive space was a magnet, pulling you in without giving you space to put up a fight.

“So that’s the guy,” Sunghoon stated, staring at Jake next to your brother. “He’s cute. I see why you’re in love with him.”

“Shut up!” You laughed and smacked him in the chest. He pretended to act hurt, smiling the entire time.

Your Humanities classmate might have been too sarcastic and vain for his own good, but you knew he was a good friend and would always come if you called. And while it was purely platonic, he didn’t mind playing the part of the arm candy for another free essay.

In the midst of your shared laughter, neither of you saw both Jay and Jake walking over to you. Jay’s cough pulled you out of your trance, and you stood stock still at the sight of Jake’s clenched jaw and crossed arms, immediately dropping Sunghoon’s hand in the process.

Jay said your name in annoyance. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Hoon and I have class together, but we decided to have dinner after studying,” you say with a smile. “Funny we’d be at the same place as you guys!”

“You have my location, dipshit,” Jay said with a stone face.

“Just because I have it doesn’t mean I look at it,” you said in your defense.

Hoon held his hand out to both men, but you knew it was bait specifically meant for Jake. “Nice to meet you.”

Jake clenched his jaw even tighter. You thought he would break the bottom half of his face if he kept it up. To your surprise, he grabbed Sunghoon’s hand like a pure gentleman. Jay did the same.

You immediately felt so small. It didn’t have to be this way, trying to pull a front for this guy that wasn’t even yours. If it took this much effort to be exclusive, a title you didn’t fight for to begin with, maybe it wasn’t meant to be.

When Sunghoon let go of Jay’s hand, you grabbed him by the bicep. “We can just go somewhere else. We’ll probably wait another hour before getting a table if we stay, anyway.”

Jay agreed. “I had to book this in advance, so she’s probably right.”

Jake looked directly in your eyes when he said, “Hope you have fun.” Mirroring your words from earlier, Jake’s were laced with spiteful sarcasm.

Sunghoon put a hand on the small of your back and guided the two of you out of the restaurant. It took everything in you to not turn back and reveal it all in that stupid restaurant, but you circled back to your initial thoughts. What would it do attempting to claim him now? It was already pointless.

You didn’t make it home until midnight, spending the night scarfing down Chinese with Sunghoon in his apartment and watching old seasons of New Girl together. It was a bitch thinking about what it would be like when you got home. Jay would quiz you on Sunghoon and his motives or Jake would get defensive on what you were doing with the guy to begin with. Or both.

The last piece of advice Sunghoon left you with as he drove off was to “be honest” with Jake, if that was any bit as simple as it sounded coming out of his mouth.

You stepped inside your house without a care for your noise level, knowing your parents were off on an overseas conference for four days. And what were the chances the guys had gotten home by now?

 But, like the first night you had spent together, Jake was waiting up for you in your room, sitting stock straight with his hands in his lap.

You didn’t freak out or feel shocked by his presence. You were glad to see him actually, but greeting him with anything but a hello would have been inappropriate given the last few hours.

“Hi,” you began.

“Why have you been gone so long?” His voice was clipped, matter-of-fact but laced with authority. The mixture of sadness and anger in his face surprised you. Jake was always fun, silly, casual…never like this.

“I lost track of time.” It was the easiest answer to give him, even if it wasn’t enough to assuage his concerns. “We just ate takeout and watched sitcoms.”

He nodded and stood up. Walking closer to you, the emotions on his face registered to you so clearly now. The anger was simply misplaced pain, unsure where to go but in front of you for an answer. “What do you want from me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m asking you what this is, what are we doing here?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Seeing you tonight with that dickhead was all I thought about while eating that churrasco and listening to Jay’s dumb jokes. And if that’s against some unspoken rule, I need to know.”

You gulped down a heavy bubble of air. It was now or never. Choose to either lose the guy you had spent so much time with by keeping your feelings to yourself or risk him breaking your heart by being vulnerable.

“I don’t want you going on dates with anyone else.” You beginning with that wasn’t perfect, but you were out of ideas.

He nodded. “Okay.”

“Sunghoon’s a friend, but you’re my best friend. And you make me feel like nobody else ever has.” Your lip quivered. “I feel like an idiot for not saying it before, but I’ve liked you since the second Jay introduced all of us to you. And maybe all you want out of this is exclusive sex and I’m even more of an idiot for saying all of this but—”

Jake caught your mouth in a perfect kiss, effectively shutting you up. A tear passed between your lips, but he was all you tasted. He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes bright and expression full of mirth. “You’re a beautiful idiot, but still an idiot for not realizing I feel the same..”

You gasped. Grabbing his shirt, you pulled him back in hungrily.

The subsequent kisses and touches were ripe with the things you didn’t know how to say in words but could easily express with your body. Every kiss on his jaw told him how enraptured he made you feel. Each pass of your hands exploring his naked skin expressed why you saw nobody but him in the most crowded room. And when you took him into your mouth, you hoped Jake knew why it was so easy to fall for him and want nobody else.

“Just like that,” he said, tenderly grabbing your hair as you stroked what you couldn’t fit past your lips.

It didn’t last long. Jake pulled you in his arms and said, “I want to be inside you.” 

Jake held you as you sunk down onto him. Your legs were wrapped around his waist as he sat on the edge of the bed, rocking his hips up into you. No matter how many times you had sex, it still felt incredible feeling all of him fitting around the spaces inside of you. You wished he could occupy them forever.

“Fuck,” you exclaimed, clutching the hair at the nape of his neck. Your bodies were slick, foreheads touching but slippery from perspiration.

But it didn’t matter how loud you were being or how sweaty your skin became. All you could focus on was the words that came out of Jake’s mouth. “God, I love you so much.”

It didn’t make you slow down, instead riding him faster and kissing him fervently in response. You mewled into his mouth, feeling yourself coming undone quickly.

“I’m gonna come,” you announced.

“Right there with you, sweetheart. Come with me,” he said, and so you did. You felt the warmth of him inside of you in tandem with the downfall of your orgasm, siphoning every drop until you were spent.

When you were lying next to each other, however, you remembered those three little words that slipped from his mouth.

“You said you loved me,” you stated in post-coitus bliss, covering half of your face with your comforter.

“So what if I did?” He was glowing, and it only made you smile harder. “So what if I do?”

You smirked and pecked his lips sweetly, nipping his bottom lip. “I love you too, you goof.”

You woke up next to each other that morning, both in a euphoric daze despite your fatigue. You also took into account how you now held the title of Jake’s girlfriend, a majority of the reason why you were a thousand leagues above cloud nine. Jake showed his joy in the form of his tongue pressed to your clit. 

But it didn’t last for long.

You weren’t fast enough to cover yourself when Jay barged in asking whether or not you had seen Jake at all. Little did he know he would find his best friend in the last place he ever expected.

Which led to now, your brother interrogating the two of you like you committed the worst crime humanly possible. In a way, you could see why he would think such a thing.

“So you kiss my sister—” Jay starts.

You cut him off, grabbing Jake’s hand. “I kissed him first.”

“Then you decide to hook up in my car.”

“It was actually my car.” Jake counters, squeezing your fingers with his own.

“And now I find you guys here in your room”—Jay looks directly at you—“just doing whatever the fuck you were doing before I came in.” His face is red from the shock. “How long has this been going on?”

“Six months,” Jake says.

Jay takes a deep breath of air into his lungs, his body rising and falling at a rapid rate. He’s probably grateful your parents can’t hear him yelling. Otherwise they’d come in and ask more invasive questions while you’re not in the position to answer them, half naked and all.

“And where was I while you guys were fucking behind my back?” Jay asks, darting his eyes between the both of you.

“Hanging out between Dahyun’s legs?” You hypothesize, throwing your other hand in the air. “How the hell are we supposed to remember?”

“And you expect me to believe you kissed his scrawny ass first?” Jay asks you.

“Dude, you’ve seen me shirtless,” Jake remarks, rolling his eyes.

 “True, but it’s not much of a show, bro.”

“Seriously, this is not the point!” You yell, placing your face in your hands.

“Yes it is! You’re my sister!”

“And she’s my girlfriend,” Jake interrupts, “so you need to get your head out of your ass and stop acting like she’s not capable of taking care of herself.”

Jake stands up to Jay, the two of them face to face with each other in a way you expected when your relationship came out of the shadows. You don’t want Jay to feel betrayed, but at the same time, it will kill you if Jake gets hurt trying to stick up for you.

“My priority will always be looking out for my family.” Jay turns to you, disappointment clear as day in his eyes. “No matter how I’ve shown it, I didn’t expect to be branded the bad guy for wanting to protect you.”

Jay slams the door on his way out. Tears prick your eyes, silence permeating the bedroom.

Jake sits back down next to you and places a few kisses on the curve of your shoulder. “Believe it or not, but I think he took it better than I thought he would.”

“He hates me,” you sob.

“He doesn’t hate you. Maybe me, but never you.” Jake takes your hand and kisses the inside of your palm, tucking it gingerly between his fingers. “Nobody could ever hate you.”

“I need to fix this, though.” You swiftly kiss Jake’s lips before standing up to get dressed, throwing on a pair of gym shorts and one of his shirts you stole. When you go to Jay’s room, it’s empty. But you hear the faint notes of a guitar from somewhere on the first floor of the house.

You walk down the stairs to find Jay strumming his favorite Yamaha in the living room, the one your father brought home from a trip to Japan for Jay as his graduation present. You step towards his spot on the couch quietly, but he’s already too adept at sensing your presence. He stops playing but says nothing.

“Hey,” you say.

“Don’t.” Jay’s voice is gruff. “Don’t ‘hey’ me right now.”

“Well, if you’re looking for an apology, I’m not going to give you one.”

The two of you are silent, unsure where to take the conversation next. What was there to say? Yes, you felt guilty for keeping Jay in the dark, but either way, the situation would hurt him. His best friend and his younger sister falling in love is not ideal, but feelings couldn’t be fought. All the same, the deceit sat in your stomach like a stone, begging to be thrown away.

You sigh and sit down on the love-seat, adjacent to Jay’s spot on the couch. “I really like him, Seongie,” you confess. “No. I, actually—I love him.”

Jay looks directly at you for the first time, his eyes a bit puffy. “Are you happy?”

“What?”

“Are you happy? Does he treat you well?”

You laugh. “I mean we’ve only been a couple for about 12 hours, so—”

“You know what I mean, asshat.” The two of you share a laugh together, the mood much lighter than before. “Do you see a future with him?”

You nod. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then I can’t get in between that. I just wish one of you would’ve fucking said something.”

“And I would’ve, but you know Jaeyun.”

Jay nods. “He’s a wimp.”

“No,” you shake your head, smiling. “He just didn’t want to hurt you either. He loves you, and I love you, too.” You run a hand through your hair, contemplating your next words. “I’m just not a baby anymore, Jongseong. I know how to handle things.”

Jay nods, sniffling. “I know. It’s just…hard.”

“What is?”

He puts his guitar by his side. Clapping his hands together, he tries to brush off whatever emotion is surfacing. “It’s nothing, I don’t know. Stupid, probably.”

You move positions to sit closer to your brother, placing a hand on his knee. “Nothing you say to me could ever be stupid.”

He knocks you in the shoulder with his fist lightly. “It’s just—when did you get so grown up? You gotta stop doing that.”

“If I did, I’d be dead.”

“True.” Jay chuckles. “I’m sorry for freaking out.”

“I’m sorry for keeping it from you. And I hope you and Jaeyun can talk, too.”

“We will. For now, I’m just glad we did.”

Nodding, you open your arms for a hug, a hug that Jay gladly accepts. It’s a tight one that encompasses both a white flag of retreat and a sincere love for you that you forget to remember sometimes in the midst of his teasing and admonishment. You now know, more than ever, it’s his way of protecting you and proving he cares.

And you’re grateful to have both him and now Jake by your side through all your successes and slip-ups.

“You don’t seriously think I’m okay with you wearing that dress again now that you have a boyfriend, right,” Jay asks. “I’m even more against it because Jake will have a heart attack.”

You chuckle and twirl in the mirror, checking the back of your dress to make sure it’s sitting right on you. “He thought I looked pretty in it the first time.”

“Well now, he’s not worried about you looking pretty. He’s worried about other douchebags checking you out.” Jay flips the page of his book, trying to feign a nonchalant expression. “I’m just saying, he’s still my best friend. I know things.”

You poke your tongue out at your brother. The doorbell rings and you rush to answer, your heart beating at a vigorous pace in your chest.

Once you open the door, Jake’s standing there with a bouquet of flowers and a lopsided grin on his face. When he sees your dress, however, his smile falters a fraction.

“Oh my god, Jay was right!”

“I usually am,” Jay yells from his space in the sitting room armchair.

Jake looks confused, but the realization dawns on him in a flash. “No, you look beautiful. It’s just…a bit short, don’t you think?”

You pout, crossing your arms. “I spent so much time getting ready, Jae.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He takes his free hand and rests it on your hip. “And everyone will be able to see that. I just don’t want to have to fight anyone off at the restaurant.”

You giggle. Going in for an impromptu kiss, you smell the traces of his cologne. The scent could make your knees buckle, but you try to stay confident and lull your boyfriend into submission. “I’ll only be looking at you. And I can defend myself just fine, baby.”

Jake’s bottom lip juts out. “So, I can’t convince you to change?”

You shake your head, grinning.

Jay sneaks up behind you, making you gasp. “If she isn’t gonna listen to her brother, she’s definitely not gonna listen to you, man.”

Jay and Jake exchange a handshake. You’re relieved their relationship has recovered from the reveal of your relationship, but you know that means they have the potential to gang up on you more out of their misguided sense of protection.

“I have the advantage though. She’s in love with me,” Jake sing-songs, kissing you on the cheek after doing so.

“Regardless,” you say, “I’m wearing the dress.”

Jay rolls his eyes. “Just change, for fuck’s sake.”

Jake nods. “Pretty please?”

“Not a chance in hell, boys.”

[ghostlygeto]

let me be your mirror | astarion

pairing: astarion x gn!tav / reader

warnings: spoilers for early romance w astarion, fluff, kind of follows canon dialogue, reader pining hard, reader is an artist this has been done with this exact scenario surely, astarion calls reader “darling”, “my sweet”, also “dove” which isn’t canon, reader and astarion aren’t really together but i mean. yeah they are. not proof read!!!!!

word count: 1.1k

you had been drawing astarion for much longer than you’d care to admit. though the dates scribbled on the bottom of each page betrayed you, exposing that you had drawn astarion close to every day for a month.

it started off innocently, you drew all of your party members when you had first met them. you were stressed and overwhelmed with your situation at hand, the tadpole snugly sat behind your eye squirming to remind you of your devastating truth: you’d soon become a mindflayer if you couldn’t find a cure. on nights you couldn’t sleep or mornings you’d woken up early, you found yourself drawing. it had always been a way you’d let off your steam, now was no exception.

when the stress of your situation died down, as did your drawings of your now friends. you had a couple day’s worth of gale and lae’zel, and probably a week of shadowheart. but astarion? it seemed every time your tool of choice hit the paper he had been the outcome.

you weren’t ashamed of it by any means. astarion is a gorgeous man, blood sucking monster or not. his eyes captivated you (as proven by the amount of drawings of them alone), and his voice had your attention like no other. if the nature of things were any different, you might be willing to confess you were in love with him.

so when the night came and everyone had fallen asleep but the two of you, and astarion had let it slip that he hadn’t seen his reflection in two hundred years, your heart broke. he didn’t know the way his curls hooked around his ears, or the way the corners of his mouth would turn up ever so slightly when he’d successfully kill a goblin. and his eyes, gods his eyes. you’d have to be dense to miss the way they light up at the very sight of you. knowing he didn’t get to enjoy the very things you adore about him devastated you.

“what color were they before?” you asked, arms wrapped tightly around your legs to hug them close to your chest. “your eyes, before you were turned.” your cheek pressed against your knee as you looked to him.

“my eyes?” astarion sounded surprised you’d asked him such a thing. “i don’t..i don’t remember.”

that felt like the final nail in your coffin. your heart ached more for him now that it had before, if that were even possible. if he didn’t remember his eye color, his hair color was probably long forgotten as well. it felt impossible to wrap your head around, you knew the shade of your eyes and tone of your hair by heart. the idea of forgetting it, well, you were sure you’d have to be dead to forget.

“what’s going on in that head of yours, darling?” his tone almost made you forget your sadness. it seemed anytime he spoke to you now his words were laced with honey, drawing you in and sticking to you.

“you haven’t seen yourself in two decades,” you repeat his previous words back to him, “you hardly remember your own face, is that not the least bit devastating to you?”

astarion hesitated before replying to you, trying to chose his words carefully. “of course it is. but there’s nothing i can do to change it, so why bother being upset?”

you chewed the inside of your cheek. of course you had the solution. you had probably close to twenty drawings of his face alone that could provide him some solace about the entire thing. but what if he thought you were weird for it? none of them knew of your little hobby, he could expose it to the others and they could cast you out for invading their privacy. and well, your infatuation toward him was nothing short of romantic. you weren’t sure he needed to know that, but exposing your drawings to him would make it clear.

“i can feel your tadpole wriggling around, what’s wrong, my sweet?” his voice sent a shiver down your spine before you finally managed to speak.

“let me be your mirror,” you offered, raising your head from your knees. you could practically see his thought process, and you didn’t miss the small smirk on his face. “what do you want to know?”

“i want to know what the world sees when it looks at me,” astarion held his usual cocky tone for a moment, but for a second it faultered. “what you see.”

“close your eyes,” he obeyed, wondering what it was exactly you were making him close them for. it wasn’t until he heard shuffling in your tent beside him that he opened them and called out to you confused.

“what are you doing? what in your tent could ever allow you to be my mirror?”

“hush, would you?” you roll your eyes at him as you step out from your shelter and back toward him. you took a deep breath before sitting back down next to him, offering him the pile of papers. “here.”

for the first time since you had met him, astarion was speechless. he wasn’t sure what he was expecting from you, maybe a few put together compliments for him to tease you about before leaving the conversation at that. but this? he had no idea that you could draw, let alone that you’d use such a talent to draw someone like him.

“i know it might be weird, sorry,” you hide your face from him, afraid of his reaction. “i’m sure it might not be comforting to know someone you had barely known until recently has been drawing you for-”

“i don’t find it weird,” he interrupted you, gently grabbing your chin with his pointer finger and thumb, “look at me,” guiding your eyes to his, astarion offered you a smile. not a cocky smile or his usual smirk, but rather a real smile. one you weren’t sure you’d seen from him before. “thank you…for this. they’re beautiful. and i…i could never express my gratitude to you,”

you removed your chin from his hold and waved your hand at him, dismissing his words. “don’t say all that astarion. you make an amazing muse, it’d be criminal of me to not make use of that.” you chose to pretend the burning in your cheeks had been from the fire and not the blooming embarrassment.

“criminal, hm?” it didn’t take long for the astarion you had grown attached to to return, smirk plastered on his face. he leaned forward to press his forehead to yours before speaking again, his voice low and almost sultry, “well we wouldn’t want you to get arrested again, now would we, dove?”

“you ruined the moment, astarion,” you huff, pulling your legs back to your chest to rest your head on your knees again. “it’s getting late. we should sleep.”

astarion nodded, standing from his place and offering you his hand to help you up. “yes, i’d hate for a lack of sleep to ruin your muse,” he teased again, handing you back your drawings. “i’ll see you in the morning, darling.”

reblogs, comments, and likes appreciated !!

[buckymorelikefuckme]

what a wicked thing to do

vampire wanda maximoff x fem reader

words: 4.2k

warnings & tags: **18+ ONLY** lesbian vampires yes GAWD, fantasy au, inaccurate historical au, smut, fingering, implied soulmates (?? kinda i guess), biting 👀, mention of blood, does this count as hurt/comfort? we shall see!! and uhhh it's kinda spooky ooky vibes but it's not really dark? i think. pls let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: listen..... i've already got spooky season in the brain and i really wanted to reshare this fic. i've edited it a little but i've also left the link to where i orphaned it on ao3 in the title if you prefer reading there~ any and all mistakes are my own! feedback is greatly appreciated and heavily encouraged pls and thank ♡ xoxo

wanda maximoff masterlist || main masterlist

It’s that time of year in between autumn and winter where it’s only getting colder and colder, no reprieve even during the sun’s highest point of the day. Part of you worries it’s a mistake to wander through the woods like this, especially so close to sunset.

But then you remember the briefest moment when you saw her, when your eyes met hers; it happened so quickly, but also felt as if time stopped. Something flashed in her gaze before she looked away and disappeared in the busy crowds of the village.

That moment, as brief as it was, leads you here. You hug your arms tighter to your torso, cursing the bitter wind whipping around you. Your dress had been a bright idea when you’d first thought of it. Now, you’re wondering why you thought such a plunging neckline would be smart, considering the seasonable chill in the air.

Although, you think with a flutter in your stomach, that’s not exactly true. You know exactly why you chose this dress.

There’s hardly any light left in the sky by now. You’re kicking yourself for getting lost in the woods, wondering if anyone would notice, or care, whether or not you return to the village. You have no family, no money, nothing tying you to anyone or anything. You work odd jobs to be able to make ends meet. The people knew of you, but you are sure they hardly concerned themselves with your well-being.

But then, when your gaze had met her own, you’d felt seen for the first time in ages. It was like she could see everything inside your mind, every ounce of longing and every bit of loneliness, even in the split second she held your stare. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since then. Nearly two weeks have passed, and you’d finally decided to find out if the stories that follow her hold any truth. They are quite colorful, full of fantasy and myth, surely decorated to sound more elaborate as the years go on. Fantasy and myth, perhaps, but one particular piece of information continues to remain the same.

She hasn’t seemed to age in the fifteen years she’s spent living near your village. Not one line or wrinkle to be seen on her pale skin. Not one gray hair on her head. Some of the elders even swear they'd seen her when they were children.

Her home is a mystery, one that stays that way out of fear. There is something about her eyes, some say, something off, not quite right. Because of this, no one has felt compelled enough to try finding her home.

At least, not until you.

You’re beginning to think you are truly lost, feeling hopeless, when you finally spot something in the distance. But just as relief washes through you, the rain starts. Each drop feels like sharp, stabbing pieces of ice landing on your exposed flesh, soaking into the thin fabric of your dress. It takes mere minutes for you to become drenched. Your dress is now clinging to your body uncomfortably, the cold even more biting than it already had been.

It comes into view, what you’d spotted several meters back, easier to make out. A looming castle breaks through the trees, windows lit with candles.

Your arms and feet are going numb, but you push through, stumbling your way to a cobblestone path that leads to tall, wooden doors. With a trembling hand, you raise the door knocker and bang it against the door as loud as you can manage, praying whoever is inside will hear.

Your wait is short lived, thankfully. The door creaks open loudly to reveal the very woman you’d been searching for. If she’s shocked to see you, she hides it well. She looks as regal as ever. A black dress hugs her lithe body, her hair perfectly brushed and styled. This close to her, you can see what the people mean. She looks ageless.

“E-excuse me, madam,” you begin, trying your best to keep your teeth from chattering. “I-I’m terribly lost and I d-don’t think I can find my w-way back to the village.”

The woman lets her eyes roam your shivering frame, lingering on your glistening chest for a second, then meets your pleading gaze.

“Of course. Please, do come in. I’m sure you’re cold.”

“Th-thank you,” you reply earnestly.

She steps aside, leaving just enough space for you to squeeze by.

“Think nothing of it,” she assures you. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need, at least until the storm passes.”

As the door closes behind her, you take in as much of the space as possible. With it being nighttime, the candles can only do so much. For a castle, it is rather large, but it’s not quite as foreboding as you would have imagined. Though, you surmise, you hadn’t really known what to expect at all.

“Would you like something dry to change into?”

You whirl around, almost tripping over your feet as her voice registers, so close to your ear.

She smiles, amusement tickling the corners of her mouth. “Perhaps a cup of tea?”

Swallowing roughly, you nod, offering a smile of thanks in return.

“Very good. You should go sit by the fire to warm up while I get everything sorted.”

She points toward a room where you can see flickering light dancing off the walls. You nod again, letting your tired feet follow the promise of warmth. The closer you get to the large fireplace, the harder you shiver, goosebumps rising along your skin. You stand as close as you deem safe, hands held out to thaw them. For the second time, she sneaks up behind you.

“This is all I could manage to find.”

You gasp as you turn to face her. She’s still smiling as she holds up the proffered item of dry clothing.

“You frightened me,” you state dumbly, huffing a quiet laugh.

“I did not mean to,” she replies.

“It’s okay.” You glance at the clothes in her hand, a frown forming on your face. “A… dressing gown?”

She makes a sympathetic face. “It was all I could find,” she repeats.

Her eyes dip down to your chest again. They flash, just like in the village, but you’re sure it could have just been the fire reflecting in them. You look down to see what she’s staring at and heat rushes up your neck. Your nipples are clearly outlined against the wet fabric of your dress.

“Oh,” you murmur as you lift your arms to cover yourself.

She clears her throat delicately. “Take this. You’ll get sick if you keep your wet clothes on.” She pointedly holds the dressing gown out to you again until you gingerly take it. “I’ll go get the kettle started while you change.”

“Thank you,” you return quietly.

When you’re sure she’s gone, you undress as quickly as you can, more shivers wracking your frame as you stand naked in her drawing room for a few seconds before pulling on the silk dressing gown, tying it securely around your waist.

While you wait you decide to get a better look of the room. A few paintings hang on the dark walls, but mostly they’re covered with floor to ceiling shelves and stuffed to the brim with books. You take notice of a few spots where the dust hasn’t seemed to settle in front of them, figuring those must be her favorites. A plush chaise sits in the center of the room with two chairs on either side, atop an ornate rug that rests on most of the floor. There are a couple small tables between the chaise and chairs with candelabras on them, and a wide, lower table in front of them. You spot a desk by the only window in the room.

There’s nothing particularly personal about the space. It almost feels as if she’s newly moved in. But you know that can’t be true, especially since so many people in the village have seen her visit town for years now.

A piece of parchment on the desk catches your eye. You debate over whether or not you should let your curiosity get the better of you, your feet slowly carrying you over to where the paper lay. There’s writing on the top piece, and you get as far as the addressed “Brother,” but then hear her round the corner and quickly back away.

“I wasn’t sure if you took cream and sugar, so I brought them just in case,” she tells you, setting a silver tray on the low-lying table that held the teapot and teacups.

You walk over as she pours the tea into both cups. You pick one up and carefully drop two lumps of sugar into yours, stirring it with your teaspoon until you’re satisfied it’s melted. A careful sip as you sit down and you hum happily.

“Better?” she asks, smiling and taking a sip of her own tea, sitting beside you.

It occurs to you suddenly that you hadn’t asked for introductions. You scold yourself internally, knowing you had better etiquette than that.

“I must apologize, I seem to have forgotten my manners. I never introduced myself,” you say, then offer your name. “And what is yours, madam?”

“You may call me Wanda,” she replies.

“Well, I owe you a great deal for helping me, Wanda. I cannot thank you enough.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “Please, there is no need. I’m glad I was here and that you aren’t in danger of freezing to death.”

“As am I,” you respond, laughing lightly.

Silence settles between you. Your mind whirls with hundreds of questions, but you don’t know where to begin. Your plan to find her only consisted of just that— finding her. Now that you’re here, you aren’t quite sure what to do. Or say, for that matter.

You can feel her eyes observing you like a caress. You struggle not to squirm or shiver, though you are no longer cold. No, there is no chill clinging to your bones anymore. Her stare alone provides enough heat. You chance a glimpse of her from the corner of your eye, but she catches it. She purses her lips to keep from smiling in amusement.

“So,” you blurt, cheeks pinking, “have you lived here long?”

You bite the inside of your cheek as soon as the words leave your mouth. Stupid, stupid girl.

Thankfully, Wanda laughs.

“Quite,” she says teasingly, like she’s letting you in on a joke.

You nod. “I see. Is it a family home?”

She tilts her head consideringly. “Of a sort.”

What is that supposed to mean? Miraculously, you don’t ask that question aloud.

“Do you… Do you live alone?”

You’re not sure why you ask. Perhaps it’s that you haven’t heard any other movement throughout the castle that indicated a waiting staff of some sort. Afterall, she was the one to fetch the tea.

“I do,” she says.

You don’t want to examine it too closely, but you’re positive you note a hint of longing in her tone.

“S’a lot of space for one person,” you muse in acknowledgment.

She nods. “Indeed. However, I’m sure I’ll find the right companion soon.”

You take another sip of your tea to avoid replying, but are not able to avoid meeting her gaze. The look in her eyes is something you’ve never seen directed at you. You’re hesitant to think it could be want, open desire. Not from a woman like her.

—

Wanda still cannot believe that you’d shown up at her door.

She’s spent months watching you from a distance, never allowing herself to be seen by you—not until she felt it was time. From the very first moment she caught sight of you, she knew. You are hers. Her mouth watered when the wind brought your scent to her. There was not a doubt in her mind about whether she would have you; she simply would.

She had waited, ever so patiently, watching you as you roamed the streets of the village. You didn’t seem to have very many acquaintances, if any at all, and you were always alone. Wanda quickly figured out that you were without a family as well.

Selfishly, she’d been happy about these facts.

Finally, Wanda allowed herself to meet your gaze. It was quick, but she knew her eyes flashed, knew that she piqued your curiosity. It would only be a matter of time.

After nearly two weeks had gone by, however, she had started to think it hadn’t worked. She’d planned on returning to town to purposefully cross your path again, but as luck would have it, you came to her. As soon as she heard the knock on her door, she smiled.

Now, as she sits next to you on the chaise, your skin glowing in the firelight, she finds it harder to maintain her control. This close, your scent is even more intoxicating. Wanda can tell that you’re curious about her. The questions you want to ask are swirling behind your eyes. And now that you’re here, she decides she’ll answer whatever you ask, give you anything you want.

You’ve gone quiet, though, so she does some prodding of her own.

“What were you doing out in the woods?” Dressed like that, blessedly, goes unsaid.

You shyly glance down at your lap. “I, uh, I like to take walks,” you mutter into your teacup as you go to take another sip.

Wanda hums. A plausible excuse, indeed. You carefully lean forward to set your cup and saucer on the table and when you sit back you move your hair over to one shoulder. Wanda’s eyes zero in on the pulsepoint of your neck. If she focuses hard enough, she can see your heartbeat throbbing beneath your skin. It makes her teeth itch, makes her control waver even more.

When she drags her gaze away from your neck, she finds you already observing her. Her desire is clearly reflected in your eyes and the feeling is heady.

—

“Are you warm now?” she wonders.

“Yes,” you whisper, your breathing picking up, making your breasts heave alluringly.

You’d go as far as saying you are overheating. The dressing gown, where you’d been unsure and embarrassed of being nude underneath it before, is now a blessing. Your body feels alight with an unseen, growing fire. Shifting on the chaise, you don’t notice the sleeve slip down your shoulder, only registering the air skimming across your collarbones. You let out a surprised gasp when you feel something cold on your bare arm.

Peering down reveals it to be Wanda’s hand carefully sliding the sleeve back up into place. Your brows pull together in a frown.

“Your hand…” you mumble, trailing off.

She lets it linger on your shoulder for a moment, then slowly traces down your arm, her thumb grazing the side of your breast. Your nipples tighten, thighs clenching together as you watch her fingers stop at your wrist. Though her touch is cold, it feels like a relief against the searing heat of your flesh. You peek at her through your lashes and find her expression to be one of complete hunger.

Feeling emboldened, you hold her stare as you shift to pull the sleeve down again.

Her lips lift on one side, her teeth glinting dangerously. “Are you sure of what you’re doing?” she asks.

You blink, faux innocence shifting behind your eyes. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

Wanda takes a deep, steadying breath, though it only helps in inhaling your scent more. She says your name. “Why do you think you are here?” The question catches you off guard. Wanda shifts even closer to you, watching your throat bob as you swallow. “We both know it isn’t because you accidentally got lost in the woods. You were out there with a purpose. What was it?”

You lick your lips, noticing her gaze immediately drop to them. It makes your heart pound in your chest.

“I don’t know,” you reply, unsure.

She leans in, her nose nearly touching yours. “You do,” she whispers, without doubt. “Why are you here?”

Your eyes flutter closed, head tilting back without you being aware of it, exposing your neck. You feel her presence mere centimeters away from you, her breath puffing out along the column of your throat.

“I… I felt drawn here. It feels like I was meant to be here,” you say, quiet, almost hoping she doesn’t hear you.

It feels ridiculous to say it out loud. It’s one thing to have that thought sit in the back of your mind where you could pretend it didn’t exist, but to admit it aloud is entirely different.

“With me?”

You shiver at her words, her lips having softly dragged across your skin. Helplessly, you nod.

“Are you afraid?”

That makes you frown, but you adamantly reply, “No.”

“Open your eyes,” she pleads.

You follow her instruction, wary, but gasp at what you see. Sharp fangs peek out from Wanda’s lips, her eyes so pale they’re almost white now. Though your heart continues to race, it’s not out of fear. It should scare you, it should send you running, but you find your hand slowly rising to carefully trace a finger down one of her fangs, amazed that she even lets you.

“You’re…” You start, meeting her patient gaze once more. “Beautiful,” you finish in a whisper, because she is. You go to reach for her face to stroke her cheek, but she lurches backward. In a blink, Wanda’s on the other side of the chaise. Disbelief paints her features.

“You think I’m… beautiful?”

“Of course,” you state plainly, brows furrowing. Wanda continues staring at you in wonder. “You said I was here for a reason.” Ironically, she’s now wary of you as you shuffle closer to her. “I know what that reason is now.”

“Which is?” she asks apprehensively.

“You,” you murmur, cupping her cheek. “I’m here for you.”

Wanda looks as if she’s scared to accept this, to hope for it to be real. You steal away those worries by leaning in to place a soft kiss to her lips. She inhales sharply, eyes squeezing shut, her cold hands gripping your wrist almost painfully. You give her a moment, kissing her forehead as she gathers her emotions, keeping her gaze down.

“Are you sure?”

Her voice cracks softly, but her grip on your wrist loosens as you move it. You lift her chin so she’s looking at you.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

She stares at your lips for a few seconds, and then, as your words sink in, they seem to send her into action. She surges forward and captures your lips, more sure, more eager than before. You respond in kind, pulling her as close as possible, sighing into her mouth.

You quickly find yourself on your back on the chaise, Wanda above you, bodies slotting perfectly into each other like lost puzzle pieces. You feel her hand slide down from where it was in your hair to graze along your sternum. Then her hand cups your breast, thumb swiping across your nipple, and you gasp. It’s the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss and Wanda takes it.

Her tongue slides against yours and you whine, clutching at her like she’s the only thing tethering you to this earth. It becomes so easy to let her settle between your thighs, to arch into her touch and slide your tongue in her mouth, delicately tracing over her fangs. Wanda shudders, grunting inelegantly before wrenching herself away, panting heavily into the space between you. You blindly chase after her, opening your eyes in confusion.

Wanda’s gaze is intent on your neck, full of desire. The weight of the moment hits you, then. What exactly it would mean if you give in to her. So, with full faith in your decision, you tilt your head ever so slightly and she goes perfectly still.

“Go ahead,” you encourage.

She shakes her head. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

You huff. “I do. I want you to do this.” You know she won’t look at you just yet, so you lace both your and her fingers together and squeeze hers as you continue. “I need you to do this.”

“If I do,” she starts, swallowing thickly, “I won’t be able to stop. You’ll end up like me.”

You duck your head to catch her stare. “And what’s wrong with that?”

She closes her eyes and falls silent for a moment. The weight of your words fall over the two of you like a winter blanket.

“I’ve waited so long,” she confesses, voice quiet, shaking and timid.

“For me?” you ask. She nods. “I’ve been looking for something, or someone, to make me feel whole all my life.” You use your free hand to stroke her cheek. Even with her eyes closed, she leans into you. “I’ve waited for you, too.”

When she finally looks at you, you know there’s no going back for either of you.

“It’s going to hurt,” she warns.

“That’s okay. It will only be temporary.”

She smiles then, slow and teasing. “I can ease the pain, you know.”

Her free hand tugs lightly on the ties holding your dressing gown closed, raising her eyebrows in silent question. You bite your lip and nod, shivering in anticipation. She undoes the careful bow you’d tied, easing it open and exposing your body to her hungry gaze.

If you felt heated before, you’re an inferno now. Her hands reverently map out every curve of your body. She leans down and plants a kiss above your belly button. It makes your stomach clench in want, but you make yourself lie there and take whatever she plans on giving you. Her kisses lead up your torso, until she’s eye level with your breasts, and before you can comprehend her movement, she’s taking one of your nipples into her mouth.

“God,” you whimper, head thrown back as you push your chest into her face.

“No,” Wanda giggles, “just me.”

You try to laugh, but it turns into a gasping moan when she pinches your other nipple between cold fingers. Your thighs attempt to close around her, yet it’s futile. Her free hand begins its descent down to the warm heat between your legs. Your hips buck into her touch, crying out when her fingers make contact with your clit.

“I’m going to do everything I can to make this feel good, okay? Let me take care of you.”

You nod quickly, your mouth going dry. When a single finger enters you, you forget how to breathe for a second, but then she’s sliding it out and back in, setting a steady rhythm, and you’re back to panting and whining. Only a few minutes later, though, you’re wriggling around, begging for more. She adds another finger and picks up the pace.

“Oh,” you gasp, your legs falling open wider.

Wanda buries her face in your neck, inhaling loudly, groaning. She licks across the skin there, nipping at you.

“Wanda,” you whimper.

“I know, my love,” she rasps. “You’re so close.”

Your hands have drifted above you, clutching at the pillows on the chaise, your hips moving in tandem with her fingers. Her thumb meets your clit, adding to the building warmth in your belly. It swells and swells, until finally, it has nowhere else to go and explodes within you.

You feel her teeth sink into your neck at the very same moment, and you can only yell brokenly into the air. Pain and pleasure war inside you, both white hot and searing, marrying themselves into a delicious and lethal combination. You can feel blood trickle down your throat, the same way you can still feel her fingers thrusting into you. It seems to never end and you grow limp beneath her, unable to handle the sensations flowing through you.

She finally slows, removing her teeth and licking over the wound. As her fingers slide free, she brushes your sweaty hair off your forehead with her clean hand.

“Sleep now,” she instructs, kissing you softly.

You can’t even attempt to argue, your body listening to her and promptly sending you into a deep slumber.

—

When you wake, before you even open your eyes, you’re aware of a few things.

To start, you’re no longer on the chaise. You’re on a luxurious bed, which is presumably Wanda’s. Your hearing is significantly better, as is your sense of smell. There’s a low thrum of energy coursing through your veins, like you’re on edge but don’t know why. But the more important thing you’re aware of is the feeling of eyes on you.

“I know you’re awake now.”

You crack open one eye and see Wanda smirking at you from the other end of the bed. You smile and sigh happily.

“How do you feel?” she asks.

You carefully sit up and stretch. You notice her ogling your still naked body and give her a smirk of your own. Shifting onto your knees, you crawl over the bed until you reach her and straddle her lap.

“Hungry,” you answer before grasping her face in your hands and attaching your mouth to hers.

With a force she hadn’t used before, she tosses you backward and is on top of you in a flash, a devilish smile on her tragically beautiful face.

“Good.”

[abigailmoment]

It wasn't just bad luck that Staeve was targeted. It was a calculated attack. Halsin knew well enough how a caster could examine their enemies for tells. Halsin did it himself. Considered an opponent's tactics, and guessed at the places their mind would be most vulnerable.

You didn't have to be a gifted empath to watch how Staeve hurled himself into the thick of combat, right at the biggest bandit wielding the two-handed great sword, and think that the man might be vulnerable to a spell that exploited wisdom.

The fact that it took down Astarion too, well, perhaps that one was just bad luck.

It happened like this:

-

This is written about @velnna's Tav, Staeve. I was delighted to discover that they don't mind fan fiction being written about him.

I'm always cautious about writing for other people's OCs--getting voices right is so important to me. I have elegantly avoided that issue here.

-

Full text below.

Full Text On AO3

-

The fight was an incidental bit of banditry. Dangerous banditry, certainly. Bandits with  great swords, supported by wizards. Halsin hung back with Gale while the two rogues dashed forward to give truth to the old adage that the best defense was killing the other fellow extremely quickly. 

They cut down the man with the great sword and the woman with the mace and shield. Reinforcements were coming from around a rocky overhang. Halsin coaxed the earth to throw up entangling vines to slow them down. Gale drenched them with glimmering light that illuminated all their vulnerable points for Astarion and Staeve to shoot at.

Only the half-orc made it through the vines and the light. He was bloodied and wrathful. He was huge, but it was two against one, and the two were flanking with each other. It would have been an easy end to the combat, except that apparently there was a bandit wizard hidden somewhere in the trees who chose this moment to cast a spell. 

One second Staeve was a blood spattered half-drow sprinting full-tilt, sword out, towards a fighter twice his size. And then he was gone.

Some sort of teleportation? Banishment? Gale was saying something about trajectory and scanning the treeline. Halsin was yelling, he wasn't sure what, the concern was more important than the words. He started running forward. Because two rogues against a barbarian was fine, but one rogue against a barbarian was an extremely fast way for that rogue to die.

And Astarion knew that so he should be running away. But he wasn't running away. He was darting forward and ducking low and almost getting hit by a greataxe as he snatched something off of the ground. 

Then he was running, thank the Gods. There was something cradled in his arms, which meant he didn't have his rapier out as he scrambled back.

It was a cat. Halsin saw. They were ten feet away from each other when Halsin realized that Astarion was carrying a large, extremely upset tabby cat with grey-green fur.

That was when Astarion vanished. No. Not vanished. As the tabby tumbled to the ground, something small and white was already there, darting for cover. 

Then the half-orc arrived. Bellowing and huge, at least when compared to cats. Not quite as huge when compared to Halsin. 

Halsin decided to turn into a bear. It was amazing how many problems you could solve by turning into a bear. 

-

"I am feeling my oversight in not preparing dispel magic today," said Gale. "Or counterspell."

"This is not a situation we could have anticipated," Halsin said.

Staeve contributed to the conversation, but because of present circumstances, it came out as a meow.

He was large for a cat. His fur was pale brown, tabby-striped with green. His stripes crisscrossed in a way that reminded Halsin of his tattoos. His scar was a fur-less groove in his face. He had the same pale green eyes as always. That color was quite appropriate in a cat.

He meowed again, more insistently this time.

"We will," Halsin assured him. 

"You're speaking with him?" Gale asked. 

"Not magically," Halsin said. It had been a long day and he had barely anything left to cast with. "But I think I understand him."

"Do you?"

"Think a moment and I am confident that you too will guess what he wants from us."

It did only take a moment. Gale was an intelligent man, when prompted. And they'd all seen the small white cat vanish into the woods during the bear-orc fight.

"Ah. Of course." Gale addressed the cat, voice reassuring. "Astarion should be relatively safe though. Polymorph is temporary and even if something did happen to him in the interim, he would just revert to his natural form."

Staeve's whiskers went back and his ears went flat in a thoroughly unimpressed way. 

"I think it would be best to find him and make sure nothing happens," Halsin said with mellow diplomacy. 

"Of course." Gale paused, then said delicately: "Given my skill in woodland matters, or lack thereof, I may best serve this cause by getting out of the way."

Halsin smiled. "It is a wise man who knows his limitations."

"I'll meet you all back at camp then?" said Gale.

"Take a potion of invisibility for the trip," Halsin suggested. "There might still be bandits about."

Staeve had gotten impatient with them, and was padding off into the forest. Halsin handed Gale the potion and hastened to follow.

-

Staeve scampered about the forest like he was looting the place. No hole, hollow log, wasp nest, or brown recluse spider-web was left uninvestigated. The loss of seventy five percent of his gray matter had done the man's already flagging survival instincts no favors. Halsin spent half of his attention looking for signs of a small white cat, and half of his time making sure Staeve's efforts at tracking didn't get him killed.

After being only a hairsbreadth quick enough to pull Staeve away from the entrance to a dire-badger-burrow Halsin decided that his partner was now going to be carried. Staeve made a meowling, writhing objection. He was terribly invested in the search. A compromise was reached when he was offered a perch high on Halsin's broad shoulders. Staeve proceeded to clamber from shoulder to shoulder as Halsin walked, ears always forward and alert, eyes bright, head turning this way and that as he scanned the woods.

Small cats with stealth training were not easy things to track through dense forest. Halsin did end up using his last spell slot to cast speak with animals. The local mice and voles always noticed when predators passed, even small ones. Halsin spoke to them while keeping one hand on Staeve, who watched the tiny creatures with bright, newly interested eyes.

Halsin of course spoke with Staeve as well, but it wasn't quite the same. Talking to a person who had been transformed into an animal was not the same as talking to that person. Shape changed you. How you saw things. How you thought. The mind of a cat was a fraction of the size of that of an elf or half-elf. Thinking with it was different. The change was easiest for druids. It was hardest for the cursed, who did not choose the new shape. Who were surprised by it.

He spoke to Staeve and learned things he had already known from observation. He reassured Staeve that the mice had given useful guidance.

That guidance led them north, then west, and then to a long hollow log, moss covered and broken in two places. A good hiding spot, and the sort of shelter that had a lot of escape routes. Staeve jumped off of Halsin's shoulder as the druid knelt down and they both peered inside.

In the darkness, Halsin could just make out a pair of ruby-bright eyes staring warily back at him. 

Beside him, Halsin watched Staeve relax for the first time since becoming a cat. He wasn't actually as large as Halsin had first thought--it was just that his hackles had been up and his tail puffed out for the duration of the transformation.

It could be a painful thing indeed, to have one's heart so completely entwined with another's safety. A deeply worthwhile thing, but a painful thing, sometimes. 

Halsin made a deferring motion to Staeve, who nodded in a rather un-catlike like way. Halsin stepped back from the log, moving slowly so as not to startle anything. He shifted a few feet away and sat close enough to watch, but far away enough that his looming size wasn't an ominous thing.

Staeve didn't go inside the hollow log. He sat at the entrance. Lay down at the entrance, body long and casual, head up on the lip of the log so he could keep looking inside. Modeling relaxation.

He started to purr. Halsin could hear him purring even from a few feet away. A loud, constant, soothing rumble. It somehow did not surprise Halsin that Staeve had a loud purr.

And then Staeve waited. Patient as anything. Waiting and watching and purring in a low buzz, as steadily as a beehive.

Halsin could not see inside the log, but he could guess at when Astarion moved because Staeve's ears would flick. Staeve had a fine poker face, but everyone had tells. 

Something happened, or occurred to him, that made Staeve raise his head and sit up slightly from his sprawl on the ground. Then he stood up entirely. He gave Halsin a significant look, and trotted off into the underbrush. 

Conscious that he had just been assigned new responsibility, Halsin shifted so that he had a good view of the log's entrances and everything around it. There wasn't much danger, Halsin’s presence in general kept most predators away from this space. But still.

During his vigil, Halsin saw the glimmer of red cat-eyes once. And only briefly. 

Staeve came back soon. He had a dead vole in his mouth and he looked exceptionally pleased with himself. He dropped the vole at the mouth of the log, took a few pawpads back and watched expectantly.

It took another long minute, but after that minute a small white cat crept out of the darkness.

This should surprise no one, but Astarion was a beautiful cat. Slender and graceful with large eyes. His fur was pure, silvery white and just long enough to curl slightly. He moved with a cautious precision that Halsin recognized as his habit, and that deeply suited his new form. 

He sniffed at the vole. He shot Staeve a judgmental look, because Gods forbid the man accept any kindness without prevaricating about it in some way. He glanced at Halsin. And then he leaned down to slide exceptionally long canines into the corpse's chest.

Staeve flopped down about a foot away and watched him with an expression of pleased devotion that would honestly be a bit more appropriate on a dog.

Astarion ate fastidiously, and without getting even a blot of blood on his snow-white fur. When he finished he licked his teeth.

When Staeve was quite sure Astarion was done eating, he sidled up slantwise, sauntering around the vole corpse as if he just casually happened to be taking a stroll in this part of the forest for no particular reason. He stopped just short of Astarion. His ears were forward. His tail flicked lightly from side to side. 

Astarion regarded him levelly with his 'I know what you're doing and I know you think you're being clever about it but you're not' expression. Then, as if granting a boon, he deigned to rub his forehead gently against the underside of Staeve's chin.

Staeve took this as the invitation that it was and pressed back, much more enthusiastic and honest in his delight at the contact. Which in turn gave Astarion an excuse and space to do what he wanted and enjoy it.

They were always very dear to watch together. Whatever form they took. In about a minute they were curled over each other on the ground and Staeve was industriously grooming Astarion's head.

Halsin let this go on for as long as he could. But the shadows were lengthening, and they were very close to the Shadowlands, and he was out of spell slots, and the rogues were currently housecats.

"It is getting late, dear ones," he said softly. 

Astarion twitched at the interruption, and Staeve licked him three times along the neck and chest in a soothing way. Then they disentangled from each other and padded over to Halsin.

Halsin picked up Staeve, but he knelt down and laid his arm on the ground so that Astarion could climb up and find what perch he wanted by himself. They did both end up in his arms. Staeve was tired and quite ready to be carried, and Astarion didn't want to be out of contact with him.

As Halsin walked through the woods with an armfull of cat, Staeve started to purr again. It was really the most marvelous sound. A soothing distillation of satisfaction and care. Almost enough to tempt one away from being a bear.

Astarion did not purr. Some cats didn't. Or purred only very rarely. But Astarion did, at one point, look up at Halsin and blink his bright red eyes very slowly. 

And that was a precious thing.

****

Other stories like this.

****

[astraystayyh]

The wedding and the morning after

inspired by that cute twitter trend :,) very soft bang chan fluff. use of wife and husband a lot but they just got married so they get a pass!!!!!

if you guys enjoy reading please leave a reblog or comment it means the world to me <3

Your wedding ceremony with Chan was a simple one. You weren't one for extravagance and neither was he. So you opted for an intimate setting, only inviting your favorite humans in there.

You felt as if everything was more vibrant that day- the colors of the flowers you both hand-picked, the smell of food that wafted through the air, the twinkling lights you had installed because they reminded Chan of your eyes (or so he insisted).

But you knew it had a lot less to do with the decorations, and more with the man you married. Being with Chan was like looking at the world through rose-tinted glasses.

You felt grateful that you were alive because you got to experience being loved by him.

There was music, lots of laughter, and admittedly, tears. You can blame Chan's vows for it. His words rang in your ears throughout the night- how he vowed to love you until his last breath, and long after that.

But he didn't need to make those promises, they were just honorifics. Chan has shown you time and time again that he was in love with you.

You knew by the way he tore down your walls, gently, at your pace, your hand tightly clutched in his. How he deeply cared for you, on your happy days but especially on your saddest.

You and Chan weren't perfect, but you complemented each other like two halves of one heart. You found in him a home, a safe place for you to exist and be loved.

"You are so beautiful", he whispers in your ears while the both of you sway on the dance floor. You could faintly hear the cheers of the boys who were watching you, but you paid no mind to them. All you could focus on was Chan's warm hands on your waist, holding you close.

"So are you", you beam at him. When you looked at Chan, you didn't simply see his beautiful features- his brown eyes, straight nose and plump lips. You saw a warm coffee shop, where you seek refuge on a cold day; you saw a sunset slowly casting down into the sea; you saw a field of tulips stretching into the horizon.

Looking at Chan reminded you of beautiful sceneries, of the smell of earth after the rain, of a hearty soup that fills your insides when you are ill. You saw in him every beautiful feeling you've ever experienced in your life.

"I don't know how I got so lucky", he kisses your forehead gently and you close your eyes, savoring the feel of his lips on your skin.

Chan's forehead kisses held a special place in your heart. You always felt them deep within you- as if he was kissing beyond your skin and into your soul.

"I'm the lucky one", you reply, standing on your tiptoes and pecking his forehead back. Chan blushes at your gesture, eyes crinkling closed like half moons. It made your heart sore, how affected he was by your touch even after four years of dating. You liked to believe you'd be seventy and still a giggling mess around each other.

Chan then twirls you around, your laugh echoing around the venue. He thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you laugh this way for the rest of your lives.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"My feet are killing me", you whine to Chan as he parks in front of your apartment. You chose not to rush into your honeymoon, because you wanted to savor the quiet after your wedding, just the two of you. And you couldn't think of a better place to do so than your apartment.

It wasn't a huge one, but it had a makeshift studio for Chan, and a little balcony where you read. You painted the walls blue together and he bought you plants that you water everyday.

It was messy at times, but it was still your home. You knew that no matter what happened throughout the day, you can leave your worries at the door and head inside into each other's safe embrace.

Chan quickly hops to your side of the car, and opens it for you. He takes your heels off, throwing them into the backseat, before scooping you up bridal style.

"I've been dying to do this on our wedding night", he giggles excitedly and you smile, loosely looping your hands around his neck.

"Well now you can, husband."

"Say it again", he smiles as he leads you up to your apartment.

"My husband", you repeat and he quickly leans down to steal a kiss.

Chan opens the door to your apartment, finally placing you on solid ground. He loosens his black tie and you lean against the wall, admiring the view.

"Like what you see?", he teases and you smile mischievously, "This is what I married you for."

"So you are only with me for my looks?", he pouts. You would have thought he looked so adorable if not for him slowly unbuttoning his white shirt.

"I am", you smirk and suddenly, you are thrown over his shoulder. You laugh as he runs towards the bedroom, with you perched on his back.

He then gently places you down on the bed, caging your body with his arms; any hint of playfulness gone from his eyes. His gaze is so intense, you feel a blush creep up your neck. He notices, of course, and he smiles softly at you. "Is my wife getting shy on me?"

"Shut up", you glare playfully at him, and he grins, "Make me."

"You are so cheesy", you giggle as you grab his tie, pulling him down to meet your lips in a feverish kiss.

°°°°°°°°°°°

"Morning, my love", Chan smiles at you, his hand threading through your hair gently.

"Morning, honey", you smile back, stretching slightly.

"Did you sleep well?", he asks, snuggling closer to you.

"Mhm, like a baby."

"I must have tired you yesterday", he smirks and you glare playfully at him, "Cocky much?"

"And you love it."

You're about to reply when your stomach grumbles loudly. "Is my pretty wife hungry?", he teases and you bite his arm in response.

"I'll take that as a yes", he chuckles, pulling you up with him, "Let's go make you breakfast."

"Make who breakfast?" you singsong and he smiles softly at you. "Make my wife breakfast."

°°°°°°°°°°°°

You are clad in Chan's oversized t-shirt and he's only wearing a pair of black shorts. The view of Chan's back muscles is so enticing you'd almost skip breakfast if you weren't so hungry.

When you are both done cooking, you happily dig into the breakfast while recounting the weddings events- how Hyunjin and Minho got so drunk they ended up confessing their love to each other, how Felix cried during your vows, how Seungmin and Jeongin surprised you with a song cover during your first dance. You can't help but sigh contently at how simple yet loving it felt.

You then wash the dishes while Chan dries them- an easy routine you both fell into as soon as he moved in with you.

You've been married to Chan for a day but you've loved him for what feels like forever.

When the kitchen is clean, you high-five him but he doesn't let your hand go. Instead, he intertwines his fingers with yours, bringing you closer to him.

"I love you", he whispers as his thumb slowly caresses your palm.

"I love you more."

"Impossible."

"But-", Chan silences you with his lips on yours, and you both can't help but smile into the kiss.

When he leans away, he bows down slightly, offering you his hand, "May i have this dance?"

You giggle as you curtsy back, "Yes you may."

Chan twirls you around the kitchen and you feel light as air. You then spin him around and you almost lose your balance, but Chan is there to steady you with a gentle grip.

As you catch your breath, you take a moment to look around you. The kitchen is bathed in warm, golden light, and the aroma of freshly made coffee fills the air. You can't help but wonder what you'd look like to an outsider, waltzing in the kitchen with no music on.

But as you gaze up at your husband, you don't find it in you to care. You've come to learn that with Chan, even the silence can sound like the most enchanting melody.

[wakkass]

💜Teenage Sofia💜

On the right is some hairstyle searches

AU itself

Sofia sleeps through her first lessons and cannot concentrate on her homework, which is why she makes mistakes.

For some reason, Sofia’s energy is becoming less and less; she cannot easily join the busy rhythm of life as in childhood.

She considered it an uneven start to the school year, and therefore didn't tell anyone about anything.

Despite this, Sofia tries very hard to work, but the problem is that she never begins to accomplish anything.

The amulet began to behave strangely: it loses color and turns gray. And most importantly, it doesn't work as it should, sometimes completely switching off and depriving Sofia of her powers.

This causes problems with her missions: she cannot respond to calls for help in time and cannot talk to her friends. It also reminds her of the helplessness she felt when she was stuck inside the amulet.

Sofia is caught between her old responsibilities and her new academic demands, causing her to fail at both.

This begins to put pressure on her, and as a result, Sofia's emotions become uncontrollable, for example, she may suddenly cry or get angry.

It got to the point where Sofia yelled at Miranda and ran away in a fit of rage, not understanding why she was even angry.

At first, Sofia believes that the amulet is to blame for her strange condition. Something happened to it and it needs to be fixed. This is a reason to turn to Cedric for help.

However, when examining the amulet, it turns out that it doesn't affect Sofia, but vice versa. That is, the amulet reacts to her burnout due to permanent stress.

Sofia doesn't know the nature of her condition and how to fix it. If this is a curse, then it must be removed, and if it's a disease, then it must be cured, and who else but the royal sorcerer will help with this.

The more Sofia describes the symptoms, the more Cedric realizes that this is not an infection or a curse, but something that he himself once went through - depression.

To avoid this, Cedric does what Sofia once did for him: shows care and attention.

He tries to repeat the same actions that Sofia did for him many years ago, because this is the only way to deal with depression that he knows.

This doesn't always help, since she could suddenly cry, and he didn't know what to do about it. But Sofia felt better from the very fact of understanding and caring for her. What's important is that she was able to let her feelings out.

Sofia asked Cedric for medicine and he took her to the throne room where her parents were sitting. A friend nearby can help in difficult times, but there is nothing more healing than family support.

Sofia was scared to talk to her mother, because they parted on an unpleasant note. Sofia was afraid of making this worse, because she reacted extremely unpredictably to things.

I see their dialogue as somewhat awkward at first, which is why Sofia has a lump in her throat. But Miranda is not angry with her, although it's difficult for her to ask about what is happening. I think this will put pressure on Sofia and she will utter her words of apology quickly and incoherently.

It was amazing how much easier it became for Sofia when she didn't face her mother's anger, but her mother's support. What's happening to Sofia is complicated, but she's still loved and understood. No one will ever leave her alone, no matter how much she changes.

The amulet remains gray until Sofia deals with the amount of work she has to do, causing her to burn out.

In the future, Amber helps Sofia with her schedule and organization of things during the day.

Appearance info

Hairstyle:

I knew that Sofia's hair texture needed to be soft and light, so I was looking for a simple and full hairstyle. I chose between a ponytail and a half-ponytail, and in the end I settled on the hairstyle that I could feel best.

I like how in animation the movement of the tail reflects the personality and mood of the character, this is ideal for a pubescent AU, where emotions and feelings burst out.

Meg and Thumbelina are not only a great visual reference for hair movement, but also reflect facets of personality that Sofia might have at her age. And the hair in a high ponytail emphasizes this perfectly.

Cloth:

Amber and Sofia's costumes are similar because they wear school uniforms. They study together in a specialized educational institution, so I think there is a certain dress code there. It's different from the public school setting that was in the original series, and I wanted to highlight that visually.

At the same time, the palette is different for everyone and reflects the individuality of each student.

I took inspiration from Pinterest where I was looking for simple yet elegant clothes. Asian uniforms have the most variety in silhouettes, so I mainly focused on them.

A small example of the cut I relied on

< Previous post

[whatswrong7]

Part 1 Part 2

Ghost was sweating bullets, feeling a little too warm for comfort as he stared at the articles of clothing he had on his bed, his closet practically empty. Since when was he a ‘I don’t have anything to wear’ guy? It wasn’t anything special, just dinner. He could throw on any button up and slacks, but the mere thought of appearing like he didn’t care had him wanting to strangle himself. He got you flowers, and a reservation at a nice Mediterranean place he’d been saving for, remembering a comment you made about how much you loved their food, but how expensive it was. He couldn’t do all that just for you to think he wasn’t serious. He had to have you! He gulped thickly, wondering how pretty you would look. Would you doll yourself up just for him? His heart threatened to break a rib from the inside at the thought.

A headache was starting to form in his skull as he carefully stared at what he had to work with. How did you like men dressed? He had never paid enough attention to your rambles before. You had to have said something though, that he couldn’t help but overhear. Alas, no matter how much he wracked his brain, the thought wouldn’t come to him. He wipes his sweaty palm on his bare thighs. You may have said something about black button ups, but he couldn’t remember if you had actually said that, or if his brain was just making something up out of desperation. Either way, he quickly put it on, choosing black slacks to go with it. Usually he wore silver, but he noticed you usually wore gold, not that you got the chance to wear jewelry often on base.

He wanted to match you, his face felt a little hot at the thought people would think you two were a couple, even if you technically weren’t yet. He quickly chose his few gold rings, along with a small chain around his neck. You had a similar necklace, only smaller and daintier. Maybe you’d be wearing it tonight. He had the image in his head, the pretty color on your skin, your pretty skin he wanted to bite and-

No, he reminded himself, we aren’t doing this right now. Checking the time, he figured he should get going soon if he wanted to show up early, and see that cute face of yours light up when he gave you the flowers.

Sure enough, once you opened your door and took in the sight before you, your pretty eyes Ghost had been admiring lit up, your lips quickly finding their way to his cheek. You might as well have electrocuted him. He stood dumbfounded at your door while you placed his gift in a vase. He quickly snapped out of it once your tapped his bicep, asking if he was ok.

"Oh, yes, love, more than okay"

Your face heated up at the look he gave you, his eyes obviously lingering on places a gentleman shouldn't be looking. It was the same when you got to the restauraunt. He knew in the back of his mind he appeared like a creep, but you were such a pretty one, he couldn't help but stare obsessively at you, especially now that you were so much closer, and he could see more details he couldn't spot from the distance he usually sat from you. Besides from that, as stressed as he'd been earlier, it was so easy to fall into conversation with you. He tried to keep the subject on you as much as possible, not because he didn't want to share anything about himself, but because he wanted to make up for lost time, learn as much about you as possible, so he could be your perfect man. If you would accept him, that is.

Shit, he wasn't even sure if you wanted to pursue something serious, meanwhile he was already trying to guess and imagine what wedding dress you'd like, and how you'd give him such cute babies. Little does he know you were more than happy to think about a future with him, though, to be fair, your thoughts were a little more impure, but still wholesome.

He was starting to question why he didn't start chasing after you sooner, when you knocked over your drink of choice. Ah, right, he had considered you useless and clumsy. He chuckled to himself, but practically got whiplash when you started apologizing profusely, turning red out of embarassment. How had he missed that before? God, you were just so cute. Ghost practically seethed at himself for not paying more attention and snatching you up sooner. But that thought quickly flew away as he started thinking about how he wanted to see you jump and yelp and laugh at your mistakes again and again, forever.

And sure enough, you did, as you knocked over various things as he dragged you along the darkness of his home, his assurances and kisses on your head that it was 'ok, love, just keep following him', until you both landed on his bed, soon to become yours too.

Most likely not gonna write a part 4, besides some more cute drabbles about Ghost x incompetent! Reader cuz idk I just love the concept

[jhkfan123]

dress | coriolanus snow

pairing: youngpresident!snow x assistantfem!reader

in which: a wardrobe malfunction leaves you with no choice but to wear a red dress to the presidential gala. a very scandalous red dress. one that your boss, coriolanus snow, was sure to notice.

warnings: heavy kissing (light smut, no s3x), cheating

wc: 2k

just my luck, you thought. they had tailored your dress completely wrong. you had no backup option. no alternate dress. but as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you noticed every place this special dress no longer fit. it was a gorgeous dress, a showstopper. everyone at the gala would turn their heads. you knew it.

but there was no way you could still wear this. you would be the laughing stock of the presidential gala for years to come if you did. and you knew that snow would not like it. and he had to like it.

you really needed this job. being his assistant. it paid well, and you needed that. and you had come to the conclusion he had taken quite a liking to you. he didn't seem as cold towards you as others, though still, quite cold. he laughed at your jokes occasionally, made sure you had everything you needed.

and you had come to the conclusion that there was something about his cold personality that you liked. he could sometimes be charming, when he wanted to be. and of course there was no doubt he was a very attractive man. besides, being the president's personal assistant was a great job to have for future work.

you slipped the now ruined dress off and began to scavenge through your closet for anything that was close to suitable to wear tonight. you only had an hour before your car was here. it was either a new dress, or makeshift tailoring of the other dress. and you didn't know how to sew.

most other dresses you owned had too much of a work vibe, or far to short to be respectable.

then you came across one, tucked away in the back of your closet. you weren't sure when you got it, you certainly didn't remember purchasing it. but it was there. and when you took it off the hanger and got a good look at it, you thought it was worth a shot. floor length, and deep red color, it could work.

it wasn't until you fully looked at yourself in the mirror that you noticed the one flaw in the dress. almost the entirety of your left leg was exposed. a huge slit went up one side of it. the fabric bunched at the top, pretty much at your hip.

you almost gasped at the slit that exposed you. there was no way you could wear this. but as you continued to dig through your closet, you realized you had no other option. you were going to have to show up in this dress. you had no idea how people would react. but it was this or nothing.

as you stepped out of your car and approached the steps up to the presidential mansion, you saw heads turn at your outfit in the way you hadn't anticipated. you chose to walk with a confident exterior. just because you knew it wasn't the outfit you intended, didn't mean they had to know. you ignored all the eyes on you as you walked past and headed straight inside.

by the time you got there, most people had arrived. you weren't here with anyone, even though you had been given an option for a plus one. you didn't have anyone at home, and it would be nice to not have the obligation to stick with one person the whole night.

walking into the ballroom, less people turned their heads at your outfit. they were more focused on dancing, or eating, or talking to notice someone's outfit. and that was just what you wanted. if this outfit didn't go unnoticed, it would be the talk of the panem elite for weeks. they were all gossips.

you chatted with a few people who were connections through president snow, but they were just as uninterested as the vague topics as you, so you clung to a wall, drink in hand, and decided to watch the crowd.

"y/n." you heard. you recognized the voice as your boss's, snow. you turned to locate the sound and found him walking towards you. he was dressed in a suit with red accents, his signature color. in fact, it was almost the same shade of red as your dress.

"oh. hello mr. snow." you greeted him as he took the drink in your hand and gave you a fresh one.

"please, coriolanus. coryo, even. we aren't working." he corrected you. you nodded.

"sorry. hello coryo." you spoke again, taking his correction. going with his nickname, you noticed a quiet reaction in his face. he raised one side of his mouth into a little smirk.

"no, no don't apologize." it was at this moment he looked down at your outfit. you watched as his eyes scanned from the top of your outfit, down to your heels, and then looked at your leg from the bottom of the slit to the top. you weren't surprised, but this did incite some sort of fear in you. if he didn't approve of this outfit, you had no idea what the consequences could be. "i- um," he cleared his throat. "i like your dress." the comment seemed like a cover up for his true opinion.

"thank you, snow. the suit fits you great. i'm glad it worked out." you were present for all of his fittings and the entire process of picking out the suit. you were his assistant, after all.

"thank you. that's-" he took a pause and looked at you're outfit again. "that's not the dress you said you were going to wear." you knew it would come up. he had approved the original dress you picked. you decided wether or not to admit to the mishap, or play it off.

"last minute decision." you smiled at him. you couldn't tell if he bought your lie or not.

"mm." he looked around the room and took a sip of his drink. "i hate these things, you know." the presidential ball had been around for five years now. you had only attended last year's ball, as you had gotten this position only a few months before it.

"why keep throwing them?" you asked. he looked at you as if it was odd to even ask the question.

he thought for a moment before answering. "keeps people busy, distracted. it's become the event of the year. not bad for the campaign, either." he responded. you nodded in agreement.

"where's livia?" you asked. his wife, livia cardew, was supposed to be the most dressed up person here, yet you hadn't spotted her in the crowd yet. you noticed as he rolled his eyes at the mention of her name. he had an odd coldness towards his own wife. you knew their marriage wasn't great, but it was as if he never really loved her at all.

"i'm not sure. haven't seen her all day. she might not even be here." he responded quickly and vaguely. you looked around the room for a moment before you looked back at snow. you caught him staring at your exposed leg again. he quickly looked back at you.

"i'm going to go talk to people." there was something about the way he looked at you that made you want to escape. he looked at you in a way a married man shouldn't. he nodded and you lost yourself in the crowd.

after dancing and a drink, you were back on the wall, people watching. that was until a hand grabbed you and began to pull you into a separate room. you looked up as you saw snow enter the library, your hand in his, and shut the door behind you.

"coryo what the hell!" you immediately regretted the way you talked to your boss. you almost covered your mouth in regret, however, he didn't seem to mind.

"i can't take this any longer." he began to pace in front of you. the warm light of the library fireplace backlit him.

"what?" you were still flustered from the sudden entrance to the library.

"you know, i could handle you when you were in regular dresses, and pantsuits, and everything but this." he gestured to your dress. "but you absolutely cannot show up to my gala looking like that and expect me to not notice you." he got closer to you now, still going on. he was breathing heavily and seemed like he was arguing with himself. "expect me to not want you." he finally took a moment to catch his breath.

"notice me? coryo, what?"

"you are tormenting me. in that outfit. you're driving me mad. you're making me hate you and need you at the same time." you began to get butterflies in your stomach at his comments. "i tried to distance myself from you, but no matter how far away i was from you, i was across the ballroom from you and i still couldn't get you out of my head." you couldn't help but smile. he noticed. "don't smile at me. god don't do that."

he paused. he thought for a moment. you couldn't help but get red at his comments. you knew exactly what he wanted to do. you knew exactly what your boss wanted from you:

you.

so you looked at him, batting your eyelashes once in a while, waiting for him to do something. waiting for him to snap.

"you drive me insane." he spoke again, this time much quieter. "insane." he walked over to you and kissed you like he had never wanted anything more. he backed you up against the bookshelf and ignored the fact that a few books fell. you kissed him back. something about the words he had spoken earlier had convinced you that you needed him the same way he needed you.

he grabbed your leg, which was easy from the slit of the dress and dragged it up until it was sitting on his hip. he held it with one arm. he began to slither that arm up your leg towards your thigh. that was when your adrenaline high ended and you realized the magnitude of your decision. you realized that at any moment, livia cardew could walk in and see her husband cheating on her with his assistant. you pulled away to speak. he didn't bother to stop and this time began to kiss your neck.

"coryo-" you took a beat to catch your breath. "coryo, you're married!" you took heavy breaths as he continued to kiss you.

through rough kisses, he spoke again.

"barely. i couldn't care less if she sees us." something about the comment made your knees go weak, and you directed his kisses towards your lips again.

everything about this was wrong. but the high you got from him made every bad outcome disappear as you focused on the moment. he made the entire world outside of this library disappear. all you wanted right now was him, close to you. in fact, you wanted so much more than that.

and you knew he did too. you could tell through his unspoken words and kisses that this was something he had controlled for a long time. something he had kept inside. but the dress you had worn tonight clearly set him over the edge. he picked your other leg up and started to take you somewhere. you heard as he pushed multiple things off the desk at once and place you there instead.

there was something about the scandal and secrecy of this all that made it that much more appealing to you.

as he continued to make you feel things you hadn't felt before, he threw his coat down. every move he made was that much more attractive.

at the beginning, this felt risky, but now, as you sat there, letting him kiss you wherever he pleased, you had no regrets. none at all.

the dress that had been your biggest concern that night had given you the biggest reward.

getting absolutely high off coriolanus snow.

tags: @mischieftom

[lila-lou]

✨Taking her in - Pt. 4✨

Summary: After Dean Winchester saves your life, he brings you into the safety of the bunker. As you grow older and stronger, Dean refuses to let you join the hunts, his overprotective behavior intensifying. But beneath his fierce protectiveness lies something darker—conflicted feelings he can’t face. As your 18th birthday approaches, Dean struggles to keep control, torn between his duty to protect you and emotions he’s buried for too long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: HUGE Age Gap, Immoral, Underage Reader, Language

Word Count: 5034

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

A week had passed since that tense night at the bar, and things between you and Dean had remained strained and awkward. The silence between you two had grown heavier, more charged, and it seemed like both of you were tiptoeing around each other, afraid to confront what was really going on. Dean had become more withdrawn, and though Sam hadn’t said anything, you could tell he’d noticed the shift in the dynamic as well.

You spent most of the week trying to sort through your emotions, grappling with the hurt and confusion Dean’s actions had caused, while also questioning your own feelings. Part of you wanted to confront him, to ask him what the hell was going on, but another part of you was terrified of what the answer might be.

So, when Jake called and asked you out, you hesitated.

You’d never really had much experience with guys—your life was complicated enough as it was, and with your lingering feelings for Dean, you’d never felt the need to complicate things further.

But your 18th birthday was approaching, and you knew it was time to make a change. You couldn’t keep living in limbo, pining after someone who seemed determined to keep you at arm’s length. Jake was a nice guy, uncomplicated, and maybe spending time with him would help you move on, help you forget about the tension that had been eating away at you.

So, you agreed to go out with Jake.

He suggested going to the movies, and you thought it sounded perfect—casual, low-pressure, a chance to just be a normal teenager for once. But as the evening approached, nerves began to creep in. You hadn’t been on a date before, and you weren’t entirely sure what to expect. Still, you were determined to give it a shot.

You chose a pretty summer dress, one that ended mid-thigh and made you feel confident and feminine. It was a light, flowy fabric that swished around your legs when you moved, a soft pastel color that complimented your complexion. You decided to leave your hair down, slightly curling the ends for a bit of extra polish, and applied a little makeup—just enough to enhance your features without feeling overdone.

As you took a final look in the mirror, a mix of excitement and anxiety fluttered in your stomach. This was new territory for you, and part of you wondered if you were really ready for it. But you knew you couldn’t keep waiting around for something that might never happen. It was time to take a step forward.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped out of your room and made your way to the library, where you knew Sam and Dean were likely holed up. As you approached, you heard the familiar sound of Castiel’s voice, which meant he was there as well.

Sam was the first to notice you. He looked up from the book he was reading, his eyes widening slightly as he took in your appearance. “Wow, (Y/N), you look great”, he said, smiling warmly.

Dean, who had been sitting across the table from Sam, glanced up as well. The moment his eyes landed on you, something unreadable flashed across his face—surprise, confusion, and maybe something darker, something he quickly tried to hide behind a neutral expression.

Castiel, ever the curious observer, tilted his head slightly. “You look different, (Y/N). Is there a special occasion?”.

You forced a smile, trying to keep your voice steady as you addressed the three of them. “I, uh, have a date. Jake asked me out, and we’re meeting at the cinema”. You hesitated for a moment before adding, “I was wondering if one of you could give me a ride? I’d rather not have him pick me up… here, you know?”.

Sam, always the supportive big brother type, immediately nodded. “Of course, I can drive you. No problem at all”.

But before Sam could stand up, Dean cleared his throat, his voice a little tighter than usual. “I’ll take her”, he said, his eyes fixed on you as he spoke. “I’m not doing anything right now anyway”.

The offer caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. There was a part of you that wanted to refuse, to avoid any more awkwardness between the two of you, but another part—the part that still cared deeply for him—couldn’t bring itself to say no.

“Okay, thanks”, you replied softly, your heart pounding as you met his gaze. Dean nodded once, his expression unreadable, and stood up from the table, grabbing his jacket.

Sam exchanged a glance with Castiel, who merely observed the exchange with his usual calm demeanor. Sam seemed to pick up on the tension, but he didn’t say anything, instead giving you a reassuring smile. “Have fun tonight, (Y/N). You deserve it”.

Dean led the way out of the library, and you followed him, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you. The walk to the Impala was quiet, neither of you saying a word, but the air between you crackled with unspoken thoughts and emotions.

When you finally reached the car, Dean opened the passenger door for you, something he hadn’t done in a while. You thanked him quietly and slid into the seat, your hands nervously smoothing down the fabric of your dress as he got into the driver’s seat.

The drive was just as tense as the walk had been, the silence thick with everything you weren’t saying. You could feel Dean glancing at you every now and then, but you kept your eyes on the road, trying to steady your breathing and calm the nerves that were twisting your stomach into knots.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Dean broke the silence. “So, this Jake guy… what’s he like?”.

His voice was casual, but there was an edge to it that you couldn’t quite ignore. You hesitated before answering, unsure of how much to say. “He’s nice”, you replied simply, not wanting to give away too much. “We only talked a little bit at the bar, but he seems like a good guy”.

Dean kept his eyes on the road, his knuckles turning white as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. The silence between you grew heavier, the tension almost unbearable. He was quiet for a long while, clearly struggling with something. You could see the muscles in his jaw working as he fought to find the right words, his usual confidence replaced by an uncharacteristic uncertainty.

Finally, he cleared his throat, his voice sounding strained as he spoke. “So, uh… are you planning on doing… anything tonight?”. The question came out awkwardly, almost as if he didn’t want to say it but felt compelled to.

You glanced at him, your brows furrowing in confusion at the question. “What do you mean, ‘anything’?”, you asked, your tone laced with genuine curiosity.

Dean hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the heat rising in his face, and before he could talk himself out of it, he fumbled with the door pocket of the Impala, his hand diving inside and emerging with three small foil packages. Without meeting your gaze, he handed them to you, his eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead.

You stared at the condoms in your hand, your own face flushing with embarrassment as the reality of what he was suggesting hit you. Neither of you spoke for a moment, both of you too flustered to find the right words.

Dean cleared his throat again, trying to break the tension. “I just… I wanted you to be prepared. You know, in case…”. His voice trailed off, and he swallowed hard, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation. He fumbled with his words, feeling completely out of his depth. This wasn’t a conversation he ever thought he’d have with you, and the awkwardness of it was almost too much to bear. “Uh, sometimes… guys don’t always have them with them, you know?”, he mumbled, his eyes still fixed on the road ahead as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

You stared down at the condoms in your hand, turning them over curiously. This was the first time you’d ever held one, and the reality of what they represented was starting to sink in. The embarrassment you felt was almost overwhelming, but underneath it was a deeper uncertainty—was this really what was expected on a first date?

“Is that… is that what guys expect on the first date?”, you asked hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt shy and a little vulnerable, unsure of what the answer might be. You had no real experience in these matters, and the thought of Jake—or anyone—expecting something you weren’t ready for made your heart race with anxiety.

Dean risked a quick glance at you, and for the first time, he really noticed how you were handling the condoms—how you were fumbling with the packages, your fingers tracing the edges with a mix of curiosity and nervousness. It was then that it hit him: you might not have much, if any, experience with this. The realization made him pause, his own awkwardness momentarily forgotten as concern took over.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat. How could he ask you about something so personal without making it even more awkward? He cleared his throat again, trying to find the right words. ��Uh… (Y/N), have you… I mean, have you ever… done anything like this before?”.

His voice was soft now, careful, as if he was afraid of hurting you with the question. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking, but he knew he had to find out—if only to make sure you were okay, that you weren’t walking into something you weren’t ready for.

You felt your cheeks flush even deeper at his question, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Instead, you kept your eyes on the packages in your hand, your fingers still nervously tracing the edges. “No”, you admitted quietly, the word barely audible. “I… I haven’t”.

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken thoughts and emotions. Dean wasn’t sure what to say, how to respond to that. Part of him felt protective, wanting to make sure that you weren’t pressured into anything, while another part of him was grappling with the realization that you were even more innocent than he’d thought.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened again, his mind racing. He had always known you were younger, that you hadn’t had the same life experiences as him, but hearing you say it out loud made it feel more real, more immediate. It also made him painfully aware of how much he didn’t want you to get hurt.

Dean tried to focus on the road, but his mind kept wandering back to what you’d just confessed. The thought of you being so inexperienced, of being a virgin, stirred something deep inside him, something that he knew he shouldn’t be feeling. It wasn’t just the protective instinct that had always driven him to look out for you—it was something more primal, something that made his heart beat faster.

He couldn’t stop his thoughts from drifting to places they shouldn’t. He wondered what it would be like to be your first, to be the one to guide you through something so intimate. The idea of how you might feel crossed his mind before he could push it away, and it made his chest tighten with both desire and guilt. This wasn’t right; he shouldn’t be thinking about you this way. You were young, innocent, and completely unaware of the effect you were having on him.

Dean swallowed hard, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind. He knew he needed to get a grip, to focus on being the supportive friend you needed right now, not someone who was entertaining thoughts that crossed a line he couldn’t afford to cross.

“You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for”, Dean finally said, his voice a little rougher than he intended. He kept his eyes on the road, afraid that if he looked at you, you might see the turmoil in his gaze. “You’re in control here, okay? No one gets to pressure you into anything”.

His words were sincere, and he meant every one of them. But there was still that nagging voice in the back of his mind, the one that kept whispering about what it would be like if things were different—if he were the one you were going out with tonight.

You nodded, slipping the condoms into your handbag, even though the entire situation made you feel more uncertain than ever. The weight of the conversation hung in the air, making the silence between you and Dean feel thick and uncomfortable. You could sense the tension radiating off him, and it only made your own nerves worse.

For a long while, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the hum of the Impala’s engine as it rumbled along the road. Your mind was spinning with questions and doubts, but one kept coming to the forefront, one that you felt too embarrassed to voice but couldn’t ignore.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Dean?”, you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dean glanced at you, his heart skipping a beat at the way you said his name, so hesitant, so unsure. “Yeah?”, he replied, trying to keep his voice steady, though his nerves were starting to fray.

You hesitated, your fingers fiddling with the strap of your handbag as you struggled to find the right words. You’d never been more nervous in your life, and the thought of asking Dean what you were about to ask made your stomach churn with anxiety. But you needed to know. You needed someone you trusted to help you understand what you might be walking into tonight.

“What should I… I mean, if things get serious tonight, what should I do?”, you asked, stumbling over your words. You felt your face flush with embarrassment, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’ve never… I don’t know what to expect, or how to… you know, handle it”.

Dean’s mind reeling as he processed your question. Out of all the conversations he’d imagined having with you, this was not one of them. He felt a wave of panic rise up inside him, but he pushed it down, trying to stay calm for your sake.

“You’re asking for… the talk?”, Dean asked, his voice a bit higher than usual, betraying his own nerves.

You nodded, still not meeting his gaze. “Yeah… I guess I am”.

Dean felt like the ground had been pulled out from under him. He was completely out of his depth here, and the idea of having this conversation with you—of all people—was overwhelming. But he also knew that you were coming to him because you trusted him, because you didn’t have anyone else to ask, and that made it impossible for him to refuse.

Dean wished you had asked Sam for this talk instead. Sam was the one who always had the right words, the one who could handle these kinds of conversations without getting flustered. Dean wasn’t exactly known for his way with words, especially when it came to something as delicate as this. But here you were, trusting him to guide you through something that was clearly making you nervous, and he couldn’t let you down.

He took a deep breath, trying to push through his own discomfort. “Okay, um, let’s see…”, he began, fumbling for a starting point. “So, what do you, uh… what do you already know about… you know, sex and all that?”. His voice cracked slightly on the last word, and he inwardly cursed himself for being so awkward.

You hesitated, biting your lip as you tried to figure out how to explain. “I mean, I know the basics… like, I know how it’s supposed to work, technically”, you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I’ve never actually… done anything. And I’ve seen some stuff online, but not a whole video. Just snippets here and there. It’s all kind of… overwhelming”.

Dean could feel his discomfort mounting with every word you spoke, and the tension in the car was almost palpable. He tried to focus on being the calm, supportive presence you needed, but his body was betraying him in the worst possible way. The more you talked about your inexperience, about how overwhelming it all felt, the more his mind started to wander to places it definitely shouldn’t.

He shifted in his seat, hoping you wouldn’t notice the growing problem he was having. It was embarrassing, to say the least, and it only made the situation more difficult to handle. This wasn’t supposed to happen—not now, not with you. But the combination of your vulnerability, your trust in him, and the way you were looking at him with those wide, innocent eyes was pushing him to the brink.

“Yeah, uh… that makes sense”, Dean mumbled, trying to keep his voice steady and hoping you wouldn’t pick up on the strain in his tone. “It’s normal to feel overwhelmed, especially when it’s all new. But you don’t have to rush into anything, okay? You should only do what you’re comfortable with”.

He could feel the heat rising in his face, and he silently cursed himself for letting his thoughts get the better of him. This was the last thing he wanted to be dealing with right now—his body reacting in a way that was completely inappropriate, given the circumstances. He was supposed to be your protector, your confidant, not some creep who couldn’t keep his thoughts straight.

You seemed to relax a little at his words, nodding as you absorbed what he was saying. “I just… I don’t want to mess up, you know? I don’t want to do something wrong”.

Dean swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus on your concerns rather than the increasingly uncomfortable situation in his jeans.

He wanted to be there for you, to offer the support and guidance you needed, but his own feelings and physical reaction were clouding his judgment. He knew it was wrong to let his mind wander to the thought of being your first, especially when you were so vulnerable and looking to him for reassurance.

He took a deep breath, trying to clear his head and refocus. “Look”, he said, his voice steadier now, though still strained. “What’s most important is that you do what feels right for you. If you’re not sure, or if something doesn’t feel right, don’t be afraid to say no. You have every right to change your mind or to ask for more time”.

You nodded, clearly absorbing his words. “I guess I’m just really nervous about it all”, you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “It’s so much to think about, and I don’t want to disappoint anyone”.

Dean felt a pang of guilt. You shouldn’t have to worry about disappointing anyone. You should be focusing on your own comfort and readiness. He tried to keep his mind on supporting you, pushing away the more inappropriate thoughts that had been creeping in. “You’re not going to disappoint anyone”, he said firmly.

You sighed heavily, your eyes filled with anxiety. “But what if I can’t even get those stupid things on and ruin the moment?”, you asked, your frustration evident as you shook your bag with the packages inside.

Dean’s heart clenched as he heard the worry in your voice. He hated that you were feeling so much pressure about something that should be your choice, your moment, not something dictated by anyone else’s expectations. But more than that, he hated how his mind kept slipping into dangerous territory, thinking about what it would be like if he were the one to guide you through it, to be your first.

Dean swallowed hard, doing his best to stay focused on giving you the support you needed. He couldn’t let his thoughts stray, not when you were relying on him. “Listen”, he started, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. “First of all, there’s no such thing as ruining the moment. It’s not about doing everything perfectly—it’s about being comfortable and enjoying the experience. And if something doesn’t go right, it’s not the end of the world”.

He paused, choosing his next words carefully. “As for, uh, putting it on… it’s really not as complicated as it seems. It might feel awkward at first, but that’s normal. You can always practice if it makes you feel more confident. But honestly, any guy worth your time is going to be patient and help you through it. It’s not just on you to figure it all out”.

You hid your face in your hands, embarrassed and overwhelmed by the conversation. “Why are you so confident about all this?”, you mumbled, your voice muffled by your hands. “You’re always with another girl, like it’s no big deal. How do you handle it without being nervous or awkward?”.

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle softly at your words. It was a sound that held a mix of amusement and something deeper—maybe a little sadness at the reality of his life and the way you saw him. “It’s not as easy as it looks, kid”, he said, trying to keep his tone light, though there was a hint of weariness in his voice. “I’ve had a lot more practice, and I’ve been around long enough to learn how to hide the nerves”.

He glanced over at you, noticing how small and unsure you looked in that moment. You were just seventeen, on the verge of becoming an adult, and here you were, asking him questions that reminded him just how different your lives were. While you were still figuring things out, still full of innocence and uncertainty, he was already pushing 38, with more scars—both physical and emotional—than he cared to count.

Dean sighed, his smile fading slightly as he tried to offer you some reassurance. “It’s normal to feel nervous, especially the first time. Hell, everyone does. But that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you or that you’re not ready. It just means you’re human”.

Dean sighed deeply, the weight of his own emotions pressing down on him. This conversation was pushing him to confront feelings he had been trying to ignore for a long time. He knew he had to keep it together, to give you the advice you needed without letting his personal feelings cloud his judgment. But it was getting harder and harder to separate the two.

“It’s better to just get to know the guy first”, Dean mumbled, his voice softer, more introspective. “You don’t have to rush into anything, especially not when it’s your first time. That’s something that should be… special. It should be with someone you know, someone you trust completely”.

He paused, glancing at you again, his eyes reflecting a mixture of concern and something deeper that he couldn’t quite put into words. “The first time… it’s not just about the physical stuff. It’s about feeling safe, feeling like you’re with someone who cares about you, who respects you. And if you’re not sure about that, then it’s okay to wait. You’ve got time”.

Dean could feel the truth of his words resonating in his own heart. The idea of you being with someone who didn’t value you the way you deserved made something twist painfully inside him. He wanted to protect you from that, to make sure that your first experience was with someone who saw you for who you truly were—someone who cherished you.

He swallowed hard, trying to push back the emotions that were threatening to surface. This wasn’t about him. It was about you and making sure you were okay, making sure you knew that you didn’t have to rush into anything just because you felt like it was expected.

“Just… take your time, okay?”, Dean continued, his voice almost pleading. “You deserve to feel safe, and you deserve to be with someone who makes you feel that way. Don’t do it just because you think you have to, or because you’re worried about what he might think. Do it when you’re ready, with someone who’s worth it”.

You pressed your thighs together, a subtle movement that didn’t go unnoticed by Dean. The way your legs looked—so smooth, so perfect—only made it harder for him to stay focused on the conversation. He had to fight the urge to let his eyes linger, to let his thoughts wander.

“Thank you”, you mumbled, your voice soft and sincere. There was a vulnerability in your words, a quiet gratitude that made something in Dean’s chest tighten. You were trusting him with something incredibly personal, and the weight of that trust was not lost on him.

Dean forced a small smile, though inside, he was anything but calm. “You don’t have to thank me”, he said gently. “Just… take care of yourself, okay? You’re important, and you deserve to be with someone who sees that”.

The moment hung between you, filled with all the things left unsaid. Dean knew he should be relieved that you’d taken his advice to heart, but part of him was still grappling with the conflicting emotions that had surfaced during this conversation.

As you sat there, still processing everything he’d said, Dean’s eyes inadvertently drifted back to your legs, to the way you were sitting so close to him. It was a struggle to pull his thoughts back to where they should be, to remind himself that you were off-limits, that he couldn’t cross that line no matter how much his emotions tried to push him in that direction.

But for now, he would push those feelings down, bury them deep where they wouldn’t interfere with what mattered most—keeping you safe and making sure you were okay.

“Ready to go in?”, Dean asked after a moment, his voice steady but still tinged with the remnants of everything he was trying to hold back.

You hadn’t even realized that Dean had already parked in front of the cinema. You were so caught up in your thoughts, in the intensity of the conversation you’d just had, that it took a moment for you to gather yourself. Taking a deep breath, you nodded, as if trying to convince yourself that you were ready for this, that you could handle whatever the night might bring.

But before you got out of the car, you turned to Dean, your eyes wide and uncertain. “Do I… do I look okay?”, you asked, your voice soft as you gestured to yourself, seeking reassurance. “I mean, does this dress look alright? Is my hair okay?”.

Dean’s mouth went dry at the question. You were asking him if you looked okay, but the truth was, you looked more than okay. You looked stunning, beautiful in a way that made it hard for him to breathe. The dress hugged your figure in all the right places, and the way your hair framed your face only added to the effect. It was a struggle to keep his thoughts in check, to focus on being the supportive friend when all he could think about was how gorgeous you looked.

For a moment, he was at a loss for words. He swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. “You look… perfect”, he finally managed, his voice a little rougher than he intended. “Seriously, you look amazing. Jake’s a lucky guy”.

Your eyes lit up at his words, a small, grateful smile spreading across your face. “Thanks, Dean”, you said, clearly relieved. His words seemed to give you the boost of confidence you needed, and you took another deep breath, ready to face the evening ahead.

Dean forced a smile in return, though inside, he was wrestling with emotions he didn’t fully understand. He didn’t want to let you go, didn’t want to see you walk into that cinema with someone else, but he knew he had to. You deserved to have fun, to experience life, even if it meant watching from the sidelines.

“Alright”, Dean said, trying to keep his tone light as he unlocked the car doors. “Go knock ‘em dead, kiddo. And remember, if you need anything, I’m just a phone call away”.

You nodded, giving him one last smile before you opened the door and stepped out of the car. Dean watched as you walked towards the entrance of the cinema, his heart heavy.

As you disappeared inside, Dean let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. He knew tonight would be tough, but he had to keep it together—for you and for himself. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, just staring at the cinema, before finally starting the car and driving away, his mind still spinning with everything that had just happened.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

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Part 5

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[sodapopwrites]

the first sign of fall chapter three: it's hot when you have a meltdown

college au, the inner circle boys and the reader are bartenders, and also they play hockey in this one.

pairings - eris vanserra x reader, a teensy bit of azriel x reader

summary - all of your friends know about you and eris but refuse to speak on it. as the first hockey game of the season comes, so does the drama.

word count - 4.7k

a/n - this one is a long one...apologies. but i liveeeee for the drama and the constant lack of communication amongst these three. eris is fucking trying though.

read the rest of the series here!

You sat in Cassian and Azriel’s apartment. All of you had gathered to study, though it really seemed like you were the only one doing homework other than Amren. Mor’s book was open in front of her, but she was painting her nails that glimmering shade of red she was so fond of.  Rhys, Cass, and Az were all zeroed in on the TV watching old film reels of their last hockey game. Tomorrow was game day. The Velaris Devils vs the Autumn Court Smokehounds. You had been trying not to think about it and failing. 

“You’re a fucking idiot. What were you even trying to do with that move, Rhys?” 

Cassian pointed at the television and looked at his Rhys with a frustrated expression. Rhys shrugged and muttered something about being experimental. Mor chuckled from her seat and shot the boys a look while shaking her head. 

“You’re coming tomorrow right?” Cassian's voice was now directed at you. You shifted in your seat, chewing the end of your pen, and slowly raising your head to face all three teammates currently staring at you. Your whole friend group knew now…about Eris, but none of them mentioned anything. They all chose to stick with pointed silence. A new tactic, but it grated your nerves all the same. You took a deep breath. 

“Uhm. Yeah I guess.” 

Something soft and large hit you. You picked it up. Azriel’s jersey. Looking at him you arched a brow in question. He shrugged and just mumbled, 

“You’ve been wearing it every game since freshman year. It’s tradition.” 

Mor and Cassian exchanged glances after looking between you and Azriel. Both of them noted the small statement it made. Both of them knowing you’d wear it for traditions sake, not thinking about what it would do to Eris. Both of them knowing that what it would do to Eris, was the exact reason that Azriel offered up the idea in the first place. You nodded, tucking the shirt into your bag before flinging it over your shoulder and standing up. Rhys watched you gather your things and pick up your jacket, 

“You’re leaving?”

You nod and look around the room. At the complete lack of work being done, “I actually have work to do and you three yelling about hockey is…believe it or not…not that a productive study environment for me.” 

He shook his head, full of mock disappointment, “How can you focus on math when the first game of the season is tomorrow?” 

“Well Rhysand…Some of us are on scholarship.” 

He pursed his lips like that. No witty response coming to him now. Cassian frowned and shoved a handful of pretzels in his mouth before speaking, 

“You’re not on scholarship”

You roll your eyes at him, “You don’t know that.” 

“Yeah I do. You’re not on scholarship you’re just anal about grades.” 

You flip him off before heading towards the door. Azriel reached an arm out and caught your wrist as you passed by him. His voice was low as he asked, 

“I’ll see you at the game?” 

You offer him a small smile and nod. You’d see him at the game….you’d also see Eris at the game…playing against each other.  And that thought alone was giving you a headache. 

★ ★ ★ 

You had tucked yourself into a window booth in a coffee shop on campus. It was drizzling outside, red and yellow leaves staining the sidewalk, the streetlights had just come on. Lighting the whole road golden. This was why autumn was your favorite season. It was like he was in the very air around you, every color, every smell. You shook your head. Trying to get Eris out of your head. 

Lucien slid into the seat across from you. His hair slightly wavy and braids ran throughout it, he pushed it over his shoulder as he leaned against the table. You looked up quickly, mistaking the red hair and the tall, broad shouldered, frame for someone else. He saw it in your eyes and cocked his head with a small smirk, 

“You know how I’ve been trying to get you to go out with me for like the last three years?” 

You stop tapping your pen against the wooden table beneath your arm, and stare at him blankly, waiting for him to continue, 

“Imagine my devastation upon finding out you’ve been seeing my brother for the last month.” 

You shake your head and offer him a small smile, “Lucien you have never asked me out seriously.” 

“What the hell did Eris do?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Lucien watched as you shifted in your chair, the smile spreading across your face along with a light blush. He narrowed his eyes at you, he knew exactly what Eris had done to get this whole ball rolling. He had found you at a party, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, leaned in close, and did that stare he always did. The whole routine ended with the two of you talking for a while, laughing and trading light hearted insults, before he cocked his head towards the door and offered you a ride home. It always seemed to work for him. The fact that it had worked on you surprised Lucien a little bit. Although…It wasn’t every day that Eris offered a girl a ride home. It wasn’t everyday that Eris didn’t just hook up with a girl at the party before promptly leaving and not really talking to her again. But from the jump his brother had wanted you in his house…in his space. 

“So if I started acting like a cocky asshole would you give me a kiss too?” 

“Started?” 

Lucien clicked his tongue at your remark before pulling your coffee cup towards him and taking a sip. He nodded towards you, 

“You going to the game tomorrow?”

“Why do you care? Mr. I joined the frisbee team specifically to piss off my dad.” 

Lucien chuckled. Remembering how angry his father had been when he announced at family dinner that he had not gotten onto the hockey team like Eris, but that he instead had gone out of his way to play competitive frisbee in the park every weekend. 

“I don’t care. A certain admirer was hoping you'd be there to cheer him on…or are you two still pretending that nobody knows what’s going on between you?” 

Lucien pointed a finger, accusatory at you, with a teasing smile. You flip a page of your notebook absentmindedly. Why was it that you could never find a spot to do your homework in peace. Never. You sigh, 

“Yeah I’m going. I always go. For my friends.” 

Lucien nodded slowly, musing on the friend's comment, “Right. Because that’s not going to get messy.” 

“What are you implying?” 

“Are you going to pretend that the tension with Azriel and Eris isn’t going to be fucking palpable to anyone with half a braincell?” 

You ignored that comment. Choosing to zero in on your homework once more. Your eyes switched between your notes and the notes Eris had given you. There were perks to him being a year older than you, he had class note’s for most of the classes you happened to be taking this year. Lucien gave you a quick once over, before pulling a book out of his back pocket and leaning back in his chair. Deciding to sit with you for a little while. 

As the silence stretched on, the music of the cafe humming softly in the background, the scratch of your pen against paper insistent. Lucien found himself studying you. Your deliberate avoidance of anything in the past with your so-called friend. He couldn’t stop himself from being nosy. 

“Do you guys never talk about what happened two years ago?” 

Your eyes snapped to him. Alarmed. No you did not talk about it. 

Two years ago. When something in your dynamic with Azriel shifted…forever. 

You were upset. You had gotten too drunk and like always he seemed to be there. The first person to find you when you were upset. The only person who’s comfort ever seemed to actually matter. His quiet solace, exactly what you wanted when you were inebriated and distressed. You remembered the way you leaned into his hug. The way you looked up at him and without thinking kissed him full force. The way he responded immediately. The way he had pulled you into his room….

The way the next morning you had dressed as quietly as you could and snuck out before he could wake up. The way the two of you never talked about it. Both of you hoping the other was too drunk to really remember what actually happened. Your friendship went on like nothing was different. All your friends knew. No one talked about it. 

Your voice was clipped when you responded, “No we don’t.” 

Lucien let it drop. Deciding maybe it was better not to push it. Maybe it was better to let it stay forgotten. 

★ ★ ★ 

Eris had one hand against the counter. Leaning on it as he pushed a wooden spoon around in a pot. You watch from your stool. Your eyes rake over him, hair mussed and his sweater a little baggy, a thread at the cuff of his sleeve coming loose. 

“Are you sure you can cook?” 

He didn’t turn to look at you, his focus entirely on the stove in front of him, “Why do you have no faith in me?” 

You chuckle quietly, “I have faith…in most aspects of you.” 

He started to plate whatever it is that he had made, still using his body to block it from your sightline. Finally he turned around and placed a bowl in front of you, moving to sit next to you at the kitchen island, 

“Pasta is kind of hard to mess up.” He stated before kissing your temple and pointedly looking at your food, waiting for you to try it. You took a bite and nodded slowly, making a mockingly concerned face as you did. He raised his hands in defense, 

“Okay it is not that bad, come on.” You giggled and shook your head, giving in, admitting it was good silently. He nodded his victory and nudged your elbow with his own. You ate in silence for a couple minutes. Taking in each other's company. Every now and then his hand would trace down your back, or through your hair, the small touches an ever present comfort. His apartment littered with your things. Your books on the coffee table in the living room. Your toothbrush in a cup on his bathroom sink. 

He brushed your hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, so he could see your face. 

“You coming to the game tomorrow?” 

You pause before nodding slowly. A small smile grew across his fox like features, 

“So..You gonna sit on the smoke hounds side?” 

“You know…I have made prior seating arrangements.” 

He nodded slowly. You were going to sit on the Velaris side. Of course you were. That’s your school and your friends played for the team. Of course you were. He didn’t know why he hoped that you would sit and support him. Didn’t know why he thought you’d choose him over your friends. Maybe because you were sitting in his kitchen tonight instead of going out with Mor and Cassian. Maybe it was because you had been sleeping in his bed for the last couple weeks, seemingly unable to sleep comfortably without him. 

You studied his face. Watched as the disappointment hit him and he quickly covered it with a slight nod and a raise of his eyebrows, looking back at his dinner. You take a deep breath, 

“But…I’ll be rooting for you” You lean to kiss him, “And I’ll be here to celebrate your win afterwards.” 

He grinned at the idea that you thought he would win. That he’d beat your friends. But then he thought about your statement. I’ll be here to celebrate your win afterwards. Here. In his apartment. His brows furrowed, 

“Why don’t we ever go out?” 

“What like a date?” 

He nodded as if it was obvious. You smile and a crease in your brows start to furrow. 

“Eris you don’t date anyone.” 

“I date.” His tone was defensive and he straightened his shoulders to better look at you. 

“Eris. You allow girls to accompany you to parties. You don’t date.” 

He thought about the two of you. In the last couple weeks. What are we doing then? He wondered to himself. What was this if not dating? Why did you think he made himself so available to you? Why did you think he managed to find you throughout the day without even asking, caring enough to know your favorite spots and your schedule. Why did you think that he spoke to you so gently and craved your touch so constantly. Why did you think that he wanted you to sleep in his bed and nothing else, if not because he liked you. He sucked in a breath. Steeling his nerves. 

“Well, if I win…You owe me a date. A real one. You have to let me take you to the bar with the team.” He took your hand in his as he looked at you, “To celebrate.” 

A slow smile creeped across your face. He wanted you to go out with him. With his friends. You nod. A silent acceptance. Swallowing the guilt in your throat as you did so. The guilt that you had to show up tomorrow in a jersey that wasn’t his. Sit on a side that wasn’t his. But you had to support your friends. There had to be a way to do both.  

★ ★ ★ 

You slide into the arena with no notice. Pulling your jacket tight around you. Your eyes searching for a familiar face. None were in sight. Mor wasn’t here yet. You thought about going into the stands and taking your seat, but instead opted to hurry down the hall towards the locker rooms. The smoke hounds were leaving their locker room as you passed. A couple of the Vanserra brothers eyed you, one of them shooting a high pitched whistle your way and yelling, 

“Your boyfriends in there.” 

You roll your eyes and keep walking, quickly, and duck past the door. Letting it slam closed behind you. Eris was sitting on a bench. Not yet dressed, a towel slung across his hips. 

“Shouldn’t you be with the team for warm ups?” He raised his head at the sound of your voice, standing up to take a couple strides towards you. His arms came up to cage you against a locker and an annoyingly smug smile graced his face. 

“I was waiting to see if you might come to wish me luck.” His hand came down to slowly pull off your jacket and his eyes fell to the name across your shirt. SHADOWSINGER. His brows furrowed and he stared silently at it. 

“It’s not…I wear it the first game of every season…like tradition or something.” You tried to explain. Thinking he might understand the athlete rituals or whatever they were. The good luck charms. He pursed his lips and chose not to say anything. Instead his fingers toyed with the bottom of the jersey and he slowly pulled it off of you, before capturing your lips with his. You let your fingers slide up his arms, across his bare shoulders, and into the hair at the nape of his neck, as he lifted your legs to wrap around his waist. 

★ ★ ★ 

Mor studies the way you shift slightly in your seat, like you just can’t quite get comfortable. Amren sits next to you, not paying attention to the game at all, eyes glued to whatever complicated book in a foreign language she had started. Mor watches as you run your fingers through your hair, as if paranoid that it looks a mess. It doesn’t. Her eyes narrow as she watches the way you track Eris Vanserra move across the ice. 

“So are we ever going to talk about it?” 

“Talk about what Mor?” 

“You and Eris Vanserra.” 

You sigh, eyes not leaving the game playing out in front of you, “What do you want to say?” 

“Are you sure that it’s a good idea?” 

“Yeah I think I am.” 

She continues staring at you until you finally slump your shoulders and turn to her. You look her up and down, take in her crossed arms and her doubt laced expression. 

“Mor he’s…he’s sweet to me.” 

“Eris Vanserra doesn’t date people though. He fucks around and doesn’t care about the consequences.” 

“This is different. He wants-” 

She raised a hand to cut you off, “What does he want? What exactly is it that he told you he wants?” 

“Morrigan just leave it. She trusts him and there’s nothing we can do.” Amren mumbled from beside you, drawing your attention. 

You scowl at her tone, bored and slightly disbelieving her own words, and turn away from her. Your eyes falling to where he stands on the ice. Those russet eyes meeting yours with a wink before he takes off down the rink. You turn back to her with a small smile, 

“He wants me. Like really wants me and makes that clear. Not everyone does that.” You give her a pointed look as you say it. A look that told her to drop it. A look that said don’t bring up anyone else. I know who you want to compare him to, don’t. She holds your stare and relents. Uncrossing her arms and nodding. Maybe you were right. He did seem to follow you around like a puppy, as if no one else could see the way he trailed a couple feet behind you at parties, or the way he left minutes after you did. She offers you a small smile, laced with a little concern, but warm nonetheless.

You both whip your heads back towards the ice at the sound of a crash. A collision. Shouts echoed through the arena, a mix of booing, heckling, and cheering on the brawl now taking place on the ice. Your eyes scan the fight, trying desperately to see who it is, but you already know. Before you can even see the names on the backs of the jerseys you already know exactly who’s locked horns. 

★ ★ ★ 

Azriel saw him out of the corner of his eye, before the impact came. Knew it was going to happen, but didn’t have time to brace himself for it. Eris Vanserra blocked his pass to Cassian by slamming his entire body weight into him. Azriel hit the ground with a thud and a rattle of hockey sticks. His helmet damn near cracking ice with the sheer force of the fall. Eris standing above him a smirk playing on his lips, the auburn hair pressed to his forehead with sweat, his shoulders rising in a half hearted shrug as he started to skate away. 

Azriel scrambled to his feet, whipping his helmet off and shouting, “WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?” 

Eris turned towards him now, pausing his retreat to purse his lips as if he was thinking and shrugging once more, “I don’t have a problem man. Just doing my job.” 

Azriel wanted to punch the smirk off his face. He squared his shoulders, trying to regulate his breathing, trying to stop himself from launching at the opposing team’s player. He didn’t miss the way Eris’ eyes flitted towards the stands. Azriel looked over his shoulder, to where you and Mor were sitting, the conversation you were having seemed a little heated. Your back turned just enough to see his name splayed across your shirt. His eyebrows raised in understanding and he let out a low laugh, just loud enough for Eris to hear, 

“Oh…You're mad that your girls got my name across her back.” 

Eris’ jaw set. His eyes steeled. A flash of anger, before that swaggering indifference came back and he pulled off his helmet, “You know I was mad about it. But uh..I’m not too upset anymore.

Azriel skated a little towards him as he whispered, “And why is that?” He was baiting him. Azriel knew that. He knew that he shouldn’t ask, knew that the answer to it would only fuel his anger. 

“Well, when I fucked her in that jersey, minutes before the game started…your name was the last thing she was thinking about.” 

The grin on Eris’ face was that last thing Azriel saw before he snapped. Launching himself towards Vanserra, his fist hitting the side of the man's face, both of them falling to the ground. He could have sworn he heard Eris laugh as his fist hit home again. Drawing blood. Both men tustling on the ground, fists flying, the crowd roaring. Eris topped him easily, almost too easily, like Azriel didn’t want to win. But he didn’t care as long as he got to punch the raven haired man underneath him until he was bruised and bloody. 

Cassian rushed towards his friend. Cursing under his breath as he threw himself into the brawl, pulling Azriel from under Eris and restraining him. Rhys at his side, holding Azriel’s other arm. The three players looked at Eris, still grinning, blood dripping from his hairline, and his mouth. He shakes his sweat drenched hair, tongue wagging as he watched Azriel get pulled away by his friends. 

Both of them were taken out of the game. Benched for the remainder. 

★ ★ ★ 

You raced down the hallway towards the locker rooms as soon as the game was over. Not sure entirely who you wanted to check on first. Mor was close at your heels. Amren had excused herself to drive to the bar stating that she needed a drink before she could deal with any drama. 

When you rounded the corner you were met with Eris and Azriel, already at each other's throats. Cassian standing a couple feet away, waiting for it to get bad enough to intervene. Azriel snarling something that you couldn’t quite make out and Eris meeting it with some lazy insult and a smug smirk. You took in his appearance, his blood stained hair and his busted lip, concern shot like lightning through your bloodstream. You shot your words at the eldest Vanserra first, 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He turned towards you, as did Azriel. 

“With me? He hit me first?” 

“And then you pummeled him into the fucking ground and got yourself hurt in the fucking process!” 

Azriel had moved slightly to stand behind you. Eris took in the sight. You fuming with frustration and Azriel towering behind you like some sort of guard dog. He scoffed and spat a mouthful of blood into the ground, 

“Typical.” He shook his head before turning away. He started to walk towards the locker room, before pausing and looking over his shoulder, “Can you really not see what he’s doing? What giving you that fucking shirt was supposed to do? You think he didn’t do that on purpose? To spread some seed of doubt? To make you choose, knowing damn well you’d choose your friend. Are you that blind?” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Eris nodded shortly before letting out a humorless, breathy laugh, and pushing through the locker room door with one final comment, “I can’t do this. I’m done.” 

“What does that mean?” You called after him. But the door closed behind him and he didn’t bother responding. You stared at the closed door as if he might come back out, as if he might change his mind. Hoping that he would. Hoping he didn’t mean it. A minute went by….and nothing. 

You rounded on Azriel now,

“Is that true?” You crossed your arms over your chest, “Did you do that on purpose?” 

He shrugged, not meeting your eyes, “I don’t know what youre talking about.” 

Your eyes widened and you sucked your teeth in annoyance, “You don't?” 

Every single time you liked someone. Every single time someone liked you. Something went wrong. Your friends managed to convince you they weren’t good enough, or scare them away if that didn’t work. Every single conversation about what you deserved, the way their eyes would flit to Azriel. 

He stood silent in front of you. His expression stony and unyielding, so you continued,

“Why did you want me to wear this then?” You fisted the shirt wrapped around you. Brandishing it towards him to the best of your ability. He frowned and looked you up and down. 

You looked good. Angry, hair falling in front of your face. Stance defensive like you were ready for a fight yourself. Your eyes glittering as tears seemed to prick them incessantly. You looked good. It was all he could think as your question rang through his ears. He tried to think of a response. Something that would sound good, something that would release him of guilt, but he couldn’t. 

“You look good.”

His answer was short, and blunt, and lacking the tells of any lie. You laughed now. Tears threatening to spill. You shook your head quickly. Sniffling, trying to staunch the tears. 

“Well…you did what you do best. You ruined another fucking thing for me. Are you proud?” 

No response. 

“Are you happy now?” 

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. Hot, angry tears rolled down your cheeks. You held your expression still. Letting them fall silently. Refusing to sob. Refusing to give him the satisfaction. Refusing to let him step towards you to wrap you in a hug and release himself of any responsibility with the excuse of comfort. 

He took an uneasy step towards you, reaching out for you. Cassian cleared his throat and Azriel stopped in his tracks. Recognizing the sound as a warning. He sighed and let his arm fall back to his side. 

“I’m sorry” It was all he could think to say. He didn’t feel sorry. He knew he should but he couldn't muster up the feeling. He knew exactly what he was doing. Knew that the jersey would make a problem, knew that Eris would pick a fight. Knew that your concern would fester into an anger and cause you to lash out, it always did. 

You looked at him, incredulous, mouth agape, “You’re sorry?” 

Your tone made him straighten, bristle even. “He wasn’t right for you. If this was all it took to shake him.” 

“And who is right for me?” You were seething. Your words dripping with venom, stained with tears, “You?” 

You?

It hit Azriel hard. Cassian took a step towards the pair of you before Mor’s hand fell to his arm, halting his movement. Slightly shaking her head as if saying they need to have it out. 

“Well you didn’t seem to think so.” Azriel’s voice was cool and quiet. Like the first fall of snow before the storm. 

“What exactly do you mean by that?” 

You knew exactly what he meant. That he was referencing that night two years ago. The way you had left before the sun rose. The way you had never spoken about it again. The way you had let it simmer all these years.

And then the storm hit. Icy and raging. His voice dark like he’d never even known that the sun could shine. 

“You left…You want to talk about ruining things? Then tell me why.” 

You stared at each other. A silent battle of will. Mor and Cassian standing tense from their position a few feet away. Waiting for you to strike back. Waiting for some ending statement. Some final hurt laced come back. But nothing came, and the teams started to stream out of the locker rooms. Breaking the rigid silence. 

You turned away from your friends. I can't, I'm done. You weren’t going to let that be the end. You pushed your way through the Autumn Court team exiting the locker room. 

Azriel watched you go. His heart pounding. Bringing up that night two years ago was a bad idea. He shouldn’t have done it. Shouldn't have pushed it. It did more harm than good. He felt Cassian’s hand on his shoulder, pulling him away from the hallway. His silence speaking volumes. When Cassian couldn’t find anything to say, Azriel knew he really fucked it. Not even Mor would look at him as she walked away, probably going to join Amren. 

taglist :

@tiredsleepyhead @rosewood-cafe @kristijenner19 @becstersworld @girlwhoreadseverywhere @iambored24601

@the-sylver-dragon @scarsandallaz @fairydustblossom 

@theflowerswillbloom 

@theflowerswillbloom @melsunshine @mad-katsuki @lilylilyyyyy @blueeeeeshark

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo Chapter Eight

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

Also @twistedcece @cenatour @ursinaw @xiaopleasecomehome @bearshideout @koebishrimpuwu @vash-yuu @help-whatdoimakemyusername @secret-potion @magmdnv @sunshine-for-serotonin @mel-star636 @silkkorchid @thatpersonuouknow @the-ace-reader @pamv11 @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @hrhqueenfox @goseew @luxthestrange @juno-of-wonderland @who-mst @despairingy-obsessed @lanxianschoenheit @ceramic-raven @sirenetheblogger @a13x15a5133p @abcdontbotherme @m0063576 @kimdourden @rammylog @starshiningsirius @im-here-for-the-fun-of-it @the-monochrome-jester @leleunderscore06 @tinymonke @lonelybluesworld @owodi @girl-nahh-two @obeythehuman @berry-efoy @ivorette @the-broken-truth and @thisisafish123 wanted to be tagged! Let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged for future chapters. If you no longer want to be tagged, please tell me! (Some of the tags might not have worked, and I’m sorry if so!)

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you. 

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

Next Chapter: Chapter Nine

WARNINGS: none

Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Also, I can’t promise I’ll finish this. I suck at finishing stories.

—-------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, (Y/n)! What have you got there?” Ace was quick to greet you when you walked into the bird exhibit, balancing a box of donuts in one hand as you closed the door behind you.

“I brought donuts!” you said with a wide smile. Ace’s face lit up, “Oh sweet! Is there a cherry flavored one?”

“Huh?” you were surprised by the request, “I’m not entirely sure that exists… either way, I’m afraid I don’t have that flavor. I have strawberry frosted ones though.”

“I’ll take it,” Ace said, reaching greedily for the box in your hand. You walked closer to him and popped the lid open.

“There are so many flavors!” Ace gasped at the sight of the box’s contents, “Say what you want about humans, but they’re real masters at making food.”

“Yup, we’re pretty good at food,” you laughed.

Ace took a donut with pink frosting and sprinkles out of the box and studied it, “Looks kinda girly.”

“Doesn’t matter what it looks like,” you snorted, “The taste is the only thing that matters.”

Ace took a bite and chewed for a moment, savoring the flavor, before his eyes lit up with excitement, “Delicious!” He ate the rest of the donut in two bites.

“So you like cherry?” you asked.

“Cherry pie, at least,” Ace said, “In the rainforest, I lived near a village, and a kind old lady used to give cherry pies to all the halflings.”

“That’s really nice of her,” you said with a fond smile, “Was she sad to see you leave?”

“She died,” Ace said, looking away, “She was long gone by the time I left the rainforest.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said, but Ace merely shrugged.

You reached out and took one of Ace’s hands in your own, “I’ll try to bring you a cherry pie one of these days, when I get better at cooking, okay?”

Ace smiled at you, “I’d like that.” He cleared his throat, eyes looking a little watery as he suddenly spread his colorful wings and flew into his birdhouse.

You turned to Deuce’s cage and found him already watching you. 

“Want a donut?” you asked.

He gave you a reproachful look but dipped his hand into the box you offered to him anyways. He chose a simple glazed donut and put it aside for later. You had the feeling he might not be one for sweets.

Still, he looked up at you with a soft smile, a light blush, and a “thank you”. You smiled and told him, “No problem, Deuce.”

You decided to go to Trey next, even though he creeped you out a little with the way he looked at you, as though he knew everything about you with one glance. 

You found him waiting patiently for you to approach him, despite him being an owl in the middle of the day. “I’m surprised you’re not sleeping,” you told him.

“I could never sleep through your visit,” Trey said softly.

“That’s surprisingly sweet,” you replied with a smile.

“Surprisingly?” Trey asked, “Am I not allowed to be sweet?”

“No, it’s just…” you pushed aside your misgivings- it was probably rude of you to be so creeped out by a halfling that did nothing wrong. Owls always had a severe kind of look to them, that’s probably why he scared you, “Nevermind. Would you like a donut?”

Trey took one from your box and smiled at you, “Long time since sweets.”

“When was the last time you had one?” you asked.

“Used to cook. Made tarts,” he explained.

“You made tarts?” you asked, surprised, “I didn’t know halflings could cook!”

“I could,” Trey said, a proud smile sliding across his face.

“That’s amazing!” your earlier misgivings were forgotten. Your heart melted from how soft his smile was. He looked so innocently happy, thinking back to when he made tarts.

He turned his bright smile on you as he took a small bite from the donut he had selected, “I wish I could make tart for you.” 

“I’m not sure how that would work, but maybe someday we could find a way. I would really love to try one of your tarts, Trey.”

His smile widened, “There is a way.”

Suddenly, you felt as though his smile was wrong somehow, as though there was something darker behind his words. Even so, you asked, “What way is that?”

Trey lifted a finger to his lips, corners of his mouth curling upwards, “Secret.”

“Alright then,” you sighed, “Well, I’ve got to give donuts to the others. Bye Trey.”

“Goodbye, (Y/n),” he replied, watching as you walked over to the flamingo’s cage.

You stepped onto the marshland and lifted the box high, “Hey, Riddle, Cater, I have donuts!”

Cater ran forward with a loud “oooh”, but you were more surprised with Riddle’s reaction. The red-haired halfling picked up a strawberry frosted donut with all the care in the world, as though it were a precious, fragile object. He stared at it for a while, even as Cater chowed down on his chocolate donut.

“You brought these… for us?” Riddle asked, “Why?”

“I brought some for the lions, hyenas, and wolves, so I thought it would only be fair,” you said with a shrug.

Riddle continued to stare at his donut in awe until Cater teasingly wrapped an arm around his shoulders, “Riddle, you are going to eat it, right?”

Riddle’s face turned red immediately and he stuffed the donut into his mouth, tearing a large bite out of it in embarrassment. You held back a giggle and reached out a hand to pat his red hair, “It’s okay, I’m really glad you like it.”

Riddle looked up, face red as a tomato, and met your gaze. His blue eyes widened and he ducked his head, somehow turning even redder. He hurried away, still holding tightly onto his strawberry frosted donut. Cater chuckled and turned back to you.

“Thank you for the donuts. Riddle likes sweets,” he said, “Very much.”

“I didn’t know that about him,” you said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Bring him a strawberry tart,” Cater said in a stage whisper.

“Trey said he makes tarts,” you said.

Cater’s eyes widened, “Yes, I know. Riddle and Trey were childhood friends.”

“That’s so cool!” you took a glance at Trey’s cage and was glad to see it was close enough to the flamingo’s cage that they could talk to each other.

“Yes, well,” Cater looked suddenly uncomfortable, “Riddle’s childhood was not… Well, that’s up to him to share.”

“Oh…” you frowned, looking after the retreating male with sympathy, “I’ll definitely bring him a strawberry tart soon.”

“Thank you,” Cater said, swooping over and landing a kiss on your cheek. You gasped in surprise and placed your fingers over the spot he had kissed. Cater chuckled and waved, running after Riddle and leaving you behind, standing there dumbstruck.

Finally, you managed to pull yourself together and shook your head with a laugh. All of the halflings were so different, and Cater certainly was a character.

You left the flamingo cage and headed for the peacock cage. Vil gave you a disdainful look as you approached them, but Epel and Rook drew closer with interest. 

“Hey, I’ve got donuts!” you sang out. None of them looked particularly thrilled, but they still all took one from your box.

“I’d like to get to know you all better,” you said with a friendly smile, “Is there anything I could bring you guys as a gift?”

“Moisturizer,” Vil said, turning his head as though he couldn’t stand to look at you. It kind of ticked you off, if you were being honest.

“I actually have some in my locker. I can go grab it if you want. I have lotion too.”

Vil and Rook stared at you as though you had hung the stars in the sky. Epel didn’t seem to care as much, merely munching away on his donut. You smiled at him, “You’re looking handsome as ever today, Epel.”

He choked on the donut, blush rising on his cheeks and a hesitant smile gracing his lips as he looked at you fondly, “you remembered.”

“Of course I did!” you said with a smile. Epel blushed and looked away, his feathers puffing out in embarrassment.

“Now, I’ll go get that moisturizer and lotion for you, Vil,” you said, “Do you want anything, Rook?”

“Your kindness is astounding, mademoiselle,” Rook said, fluttering his eyelids as a smile swept across his face, “But I will be happy with moisturizer as well.”

Less than ten minutes later, you were sitting with Rook and Vil, all of your skin care products spread between you all. Vil looked like Christmas had come early.

“Thank you,” he said, genuine to the core. It was the first time you had truly seen him smile- he was truly beautiful with one.

Rook looked on happily, pleased to see the both of you happy. It was a peaceful scene.

If only it could stay that way forever.

[shy-writer-999]

Summary: Ace is shocked that you want to try pet play, but he quickly comes around when he sees that pretty collar around your throat. ~1.3k words.

CW: Pet play, collar, butt plug, fingering, P in V, pet names (“kitty” & “girl”). Read at ur own risk because this is NASTY!! (*≧ω≦*)

WARNING: MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

“Let’s put this collar on you, sweetheart.” Ace could hardly contain his excitement. You proposed the idea a couple weeks ago, and while he was initially shocked, that shock turned into intrigue, and he was enthralled.

The collar was cute. It was light blue, with ruffles, bows, and rose-gold accents. Delicate chains of rose gold draped from the front of the collar off to each side, and in the center of the collar was one large, cream-colored bow and a bell. The leash that Ace attached was also rose gold. It lay limp in his hands, slack let out while you sat on your knees for him.

Aside from the collar and the faux pair of cat ears poking out of your head, you were completely naked. Ace thought you looked perfect, literally wrapped in a bow just for him. He had really taken the initiative here—he not only took it upon himself to pick out the collar and leash, but he also chose the tail and set of ears he wanted you to wear. The set of them were made of velvety soft white fur. He was going all out.

“Hands and knees for me, baby, turn around.” Ace crouched in front of you while you shuffled around until your ass was in front of his face. You heard the quiet click of a cap being removed—it was the familiar noise of the bottle of lube. “You ready for me, sugar?”

You nodded and Ace covered his index finger with a glob of lube. He pushed it into you, and you let out a whimper; it always took a little bit of adjusting before the butt plug could go in comfortably, so stretching you out with a finger or two was non-negotiable.

Ace sat there with his finger unmoving for a few moments before slowly entering you more each second. When he was knuckle deep, he knew you were ready. He extracted his finger and coated the silver, cone-shaped base of butt plug/tail. He lined the toy up with your entrance and pushed it in, as slow as possible. The sensation was cold and jarring—your back arched and the sight went straight to his cock.

“Now isn’t that a pretty kitty baby.” When you faced him again, you gingerly sat on your knees again. Ace caressed your cheek. “You’re being such a good pet for me.”

He pulled the leash without warning and you let out a squeak. He could get used to this.

“Mmmm, that’s a great sound. You look so cute pouting at me.”

“Please Ace,” your voice was breathy, barely audible. “Touch me.”

He tutted and frowned. “Uh-uh, baby. I shouldn’t, because good owners don’t touch their pets down there. But you sure look nice getting worked up for me.”

“But I want it so bad, please.” You batted your eyelashes and his cock twitched in his pants. “Feels so hot and tingly down there, Ace. I want you to fix it.”

He paused for a second, acting the part, even though he knew he was about to fuck you senseless. He never expected to get this turned on from the sight of you in a collar, pretending like he was about to do something that was wrong.

“I’ll touch you but just this once, okay? You asked so nicely, I can’t resist.”

You nodded eagerly. Ace let out some slack on the leash and reached a hand down to rest on your bare core. Your core was sticky and inflamed already, and he let out a groan.

“You’re really that wet already? What do you want me to do, baby?” His fingers started to rub up and down through your slippery folds, toying with your entrance.

“Want your cock, Ace.” You whined and his cock jumped again.

“Awh, sweet kitty. I bet you do. So wet and needy for me.” His fingers rubbed your clit and your hips bucked in response. As he inserted a finger, you let out a moan. Ace sighed. “Gosh, you’re just so sweet I can’t stop.”

He slid in another finger and brought you closer to his face. “Look at me, naughty girl. You want me to stretch you out with my cock? You want your owner to fuck you? Tell me how bad you want it, baby.”

You nodded and pouted. “I want it so bad. Please.”

Ace smiled and withdrew his fingers, scooping up some of the slick that seeped out of you. “Open up.” You did as he told and sucked his fingers clean.

“All right, baby. Hands and knees again. I’ll treat you like the good little kitty you are.”

Ace was behind you now, fisting his cock and looking at the new tail that covered your cunt. He picked it up and gently shifted it aside, granting himself access to your aching, glistening core. The slightest movement from your tail sent zaps of electricity through you.

Ace brought a hand to your hip and slowly started to push his cock into you, filling you up and stretching you open. As he bottomed out with a groan, the bell on your collar jingled.

“Being such a good pet for me.” His voice came out as a growl. Rolling his cock into you, one hand rested your hip and the other gripped the leash, drawing your head back. Each stifled whine from the collar squeezing your throat was enough to make precum ooze out of his tip. His cock dragged against your walls and sensitive spot, making you wetter with each pass.

After a few minutes of fucking into you at a measured pace, the hand he put on your hip crept over to pull on your tail just a little bit. The dual stimulation felt amazing and you started to pant. He fucked you so hard and pulled the leash so forcefully that it was difficult to get a breath in.

“Feels so good, kitty. Taking it for me, being such a good pet. Fuuuuuccckkk.” Ace started to groan as he felt your walls pulse around him. “You wanna wear your leash all the time?”

With this last question, he yanked the leash particularly aggressively and tugged on your tail as hard as he could without removing it. You let out a desperate, guttural mewl. “You’re so wet and tight, kitty, I’m going crazy—fucccckkk”

“Feels so full, Ace,” you whined. “y-your cock feels so good.”

“Yeah, baby? You like it when I call you my little pet?”

“Mhhmm,” you yelped as he pulled sharply on leash and your tail again. Each time he plunged his cock into you the bell on the leash rang—it was rhythmic, loud, and jangling. It was one of those noises where after it has stopped you could still hear it ringing in your ears.

Ace groaned and started to fuck you at a frenzied pace. He was lost in fantasy now, all inhibitions thrown to the wind.

“Little kitty likes her owner’s cock? You like me stretching you out? Touching you when I shouldn’t?” The collar was so tight you could barely make a sound. You could tell it was going leaving a red ring around your neck from the friction, maybe even a bruise. It felt great, though. So did the things he said.

“Gonna cum inside of you, baby.” Ace’s pace increased and his voice took on that gravelly, primal sound—you knew he was about to cum. Each roll of his hips hit your g-spot, and you were leaking juices onto your thighs. “Pretty pussy feels too good.”

“I want it Ace. P-please.”

Between each of his thrusts Ace choked out a word. “Such—a—good—fuckin’—pet—for me, kitty.”

“F-fuck, babe, fuck, ‘m cumming—I’m—fuck, fuck, fuuuccckkkk.” His hips jerked and shuddered as he exploded inside you, moaning the loudest you had ever heard, a level of desire and desperation you didn’t know he was capable of. He held the leash so strongly that you saw stars.

Each throb of your walls around Ace’s cock coaxed another sinful sound from his lips.

When the pleasure finished coursing through his veins, he admired the white ring of cum around the base of his cock.

“Holy fuck.” He tried to catch his breath, pulling out of you and letting the leash go. You slumped onto the floor, eyes glazed over. “You deserve a treat, sweetheart. You want to ride my thigh, or do you want me to finger you? I’ll let you do anything you want to me, just this once, since you were such a good little pet.”

That twisted grin on his lips let you know that you would become well acquainted with that collar the weeks that followed, and (of course) you had no problem with that.

alright that is all for this one! (*ﾉωﾉ) idk how to act

here's my masterlist and my posting schedule for october!

lastly, trick or treat? (tumblr links)

[navybrat817]

Dark and Light

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You learn the real reason why Hydra wants to keep you.

Word Count: Over 2.65k

Warnings: Threat of dubcon/noncon, minor character death, violence, canon divergent, captivity, brainwashing, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: It's been almost 3 years since the last part of Soldat and Sparrow. Are you lovelies still interested? ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @silkholland . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The cell they kept you in this time was larger than your last. It didn't make it any less uncomfortable. The thick gray walls surrounding you made the room suffocatingly quiet and hollow. You only knew the color thanks to the singular lightbulb in the center of the ceiling, too high for you to try and make a weapon out of the glass. Without windows, you didn't know it was dark or light outside.

There was no escape, but you couldn't give up hope.

It was maddening not knowing the time of day as you played the waiting game on the worn mattress in between meals and sleeping. The screams of your lover played on a morbid loop in your mind and you had to will yourself to not let tears surface. Other than temporary relief for your emotions and aching heart, crying would do you no good. It never did.

What you needed to do was focus.

The man on the bridge.

He triggered something inside of the Winter Soldier. Something Hydra wanted to keep locked away. But what was it?

Bucky. He called him Bucky. He knew him. But how?

Two hard knocks on the door pushed the thought away before it swung open. Narrowing your eyes as Brock walked in, you wondered if he could’ve been a good man in another life and fought for the people who needed it most the way he pretended to. This wasn’t that life though. He chose his side.

The wrong side.

“You know, I don’t get it,” he said, crossing his arms as he stood in the doorway. He didn’t hide the lust from his eyes as he looked you over. “I mean, the Asset does his job well, but it’s like he forgets all about being a soldier when he’s deep in your pussy.”

“What can I say? I guess my pussy’s just that good,” you sneered, not in the mood for his taunts or anything else.

“Is that right? Maybe he should fuck your ass next to get the stick out of it,” he snapped back. “Or are you too stuck up for that?”

Pierce had a range of prostitutes lined up to satisfy his soldiers, but Brock didn’t hide how pissed off he was that you were “given” to the Asset after that fateful training day. He claimed it was special treatment. He dropped the issue almost as quickly as it was brought up, which led you to believe he was either reprimanded or given something to shut him up.

“Is that what bothers you, Rumlow? That I'd rather fuck him than you?” You asked, tilting your head as you regarded him. “And just so we’re clear, I’ll never want you.”

Brock clenched his fists as he took a step forward. “You really are a fucking-”

“Let her be,” a melodic voice ordered behind him, making you stiffen as he moved out of the way.

The doctor, or Doc as most called him, stepped into the room with a kind smile on his face. Unassuming in stature, you knew better from the start than to judge him by appearance. The man was a snake in the grass ready to spread his venom to unsuspecting victims.

“How are you?” He asked.

You kept your eyes on him as he moved closer, doing your best not to show any emotion. The doctor somehow made you more uncomfortable than Rumlow and that said something. “How do you think I'm doing?”

“Hmm. Not well, I'm sure.”

“You guessed correctly,” you said.

You didn’t know why he bothered asking. Maybe he thought he was better than the others because he didn't physically hurt you. If anything, his indifference to the evil around him made it worse. It told you that he either justified or accepted it.

Either way, he disgusted you.

“Don't worry. You'll have the Soldat back soon and I’m sure you'll feel all better,” he assured you.

“You wiped him,” you reminded him, your voice cracking.

His screams echoed in your mind again, your heart aching as you tried to block it out. When pain knocked on the door, it didn't wait for an answer. It broke it down and made itself at home. But in the pain Hydra inflicted, the soldier found solace with you and you found the same with him. The light for each other within the darkness.

While you failed to protect him and couldn't stop what they did to his mind, you had to believe you’d help heal his soul once you had him back.

“We did indeed as we have many times.”

You knocked his hand away as he tried to place it on your shoulder, your stomach turning from his words. “Don't touch me.”

He held his hands up in surrender as he took a step back. “I mean no harm.”

“All of you mean harm,” you whispered.

The Soldat was your only bright spot in this nightmare. Ironic that he thought you were fire, bright and warm. The truth was you burned because of him. He was your eternal fuel that made the flames grow.

“I only want what is best for you,” Doc argued, his eyes void of any emotional depth behind his rimless glasses.

“Liar,” you whispered.

An exasperated sigh left his lips. “Now, now. I really do want what’s best for you. Don't you realize how important you are?”

“I'm not important,” you said. You never were. “Pierce made it clear that I don't have a purpose.”

But if that was the case, why were you still alive?

The doctor's chuckle made your blood run cold. “That's what he wants you to think. You see, the more they cut you down and make you question your worth, the easier it becomes for you to comply. Because by that point you’re so desperate for survival you'll do what is asked of you,” he explained, pushing his glasses up. “Yet you still only comply to an extent. It’s rather fascinating.”

He stared at you like you were a bug under a magnifying glass. And wasn’t that what you were to him? An experiment or something for him to study? “I haven't complied. I won't.”

“Oh, but you have,” Brock chimed in. You almost forgot he was still in the room. “Those missions you completed. The lives you took.”

Bile rose in your throat as images of violence and blood flashed in your mind. They would haunt you for the rest of your days. “No, I didn't want to hurt anyone.”

“Of course, you didn't. It’s as I said: desperation. You did what you had to do to survive,” the false sympathy from Doc grated on your nerves. “Don't let the weight of those souls wear you down. They were meaningless. But you? Oh, you are meant for more.”

He attempted to touch you again, but his hand moved toward your stomach this time instead of your shoulder. “I said don't touch me!” you snapped, scrambling backward to put distance between the two of you. As much as you wanted to hurt him, Brock was still there and could do a lot of damage.

The doctor pressed his lips together before he smirked. “Pierce and Rumlow are right. You have a hold on him. Even with his programming and orders, it all comes back to you,” he said, your body going rigid. Where was he going with this? “And it’s you that we want to carry his child.”

Your stomach churned again, but you weren’t sure if it was more at the thought that he wanted to force a child on you or that he’d try and force your soldier to impregnate you. “Care to repeat that?”

“You’re going to carry his child. You’re going to give birth to the perfect soldier. And you’ll keep doing so,” he said slowly like you were a petulant child, standing tall and proud as your mouth fell open in horror. “You’re the perfect incubator.”

Your stomach sank as you looked between him and Brock, wishing it was a sick joke. “No, I won't.”

“You think you have a choice?” The doctor questioned nonchalantly, like he was asking what you wanted for dinner. “And do you think the Asset needs to remember exactly what you mean to him to fuck you? I guess we'll see if he does. Science versus instinct.”

The room became eerily silent as the doctor gave you his first genuine smile since he walked in. You struggled to get your bearings and process the words. That was why you were still alive. They were going to make you an incubator. Force your soldier to breed you. They would take another choice away from him. And raise your children in captivity.

In Hell on earth.

“Well, that shut the bitch up,” Brock chuckled.

Before you could think, you launched yourself from the bed. The doctor’s eyes widened as you tackled him to the ground, unable to brace himself as you landed the first blow to his face. You straddled his waist, the second hit knocking his glasses away as fury rushed through your veins like a wildfire. He didn’t try to fight you off.

You could’ve cried. Screamed. Anything to keep him from making his twisted plan a reality.

The sound of a gun cocking stopped you from hitting Doc a third time.

“I won’t kill you,” Brock said, your fist frozen in the air as you looked toward him. Your chest heaved as you stared down the barrel of the gun. “But I’ll make it hurt if you don’t get up.”

“Go ahead,” you said through clenched teeth.

The doctor coughed, but held up a hand. “No shooting,” he croaked as you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. “No harming her.”

Brock’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head. “She can still lie down and take a cock if-”

None of you could have foreseen the metal hand punching through the wall. Before you could blink, the hand closed around Brock’s shoulder and pulled him through, his cry of pain silenced almost immediately by the sound of a gunshot. The doctor beneath you was long forgotten as you scrambled to your feet just in time to see your soldier step into the room through the hole, his face obscured by his typical mask and goggles.

But you felt his gaze on you as he stood like a dark angel ready to avenge you.

Hope launched into your chest like a shooting star as you smiled. “Soldat,” you whispered.

He came for you. Found you. But the star that filled your heart quickly faded when he didn’t move toward you or say “Sparrow”.

The dread grew stronger when he holstered his gun and took out his signature knife.

Was this the beginning of the end?

The doctor smiled as he wiped the blood from his lap and slowly stood up. “You really think he’s here to save you? Oh, no. He just doesn’t want any competition near his breeding partner,” he taunted as your eyes stung. “Back from your assignment early, Soldat? Good. Now you can complete your mission.”

The Winter Soldier tilted his head before he took a step forward.

You remained rooted to the spot, casting your fear that he’d force himself on you aside. “Bucky,” you said, using the name you heard. His real name. A tear rolled down your cheek when he flinched and tightened his fingers around the handle. “I’m not going to fight you. Or hurt you. Do you know why?”

Another step forward, your heart pounded as you stood as still as a statue. “Why?” He asked, the word clear to you through his mask.

The tears flowed freely as he stopped in front of you and slipped his goggles off, your heart breaking when he dispassionately looked at you. “Because I’m your Sparrow. Remember? My fire burns for you and you only,” you told him and pointed to your chest. You needed him to remember. “We swore we’d be free together. Somehow.”

“Don’t listen to her. Breed her and be done with it,” the doctor ordered.

The soldier’s brows furrowed before his metal hand came up around your neck, not squeezing or bringing you any harm.

But it felt like a warning.

“You won’t hurt me,” you breathed out, placing your hand on his arm as you kept your panic at bay. “They won’t break me. And I won’t leave you,” you promised, echoing his words when he took you the first time. “I’m yours.”

No matter what they forced him to do to you, he would never be to blame.

The doctor had the gall to smack the flesh arm when he made no move to shove you down on the bed or remove your clothes. “Finish your mission. Now.”

“It’s okay,” you mouthed.

Somehow, it would be okay.

“My mission…” the soldier began mechanically, not taking his eyes off you as he plunged the knife into the doctor’s jugular. You weren’t sure you could breathe. “Is to keep my Sparrow safe.”

An intake of air caught your sob as the metal hand fell away, the doctor collapsing as he tried in vain to stop the blood from leaving his body. It was useless. And a kinder death than he deserved.

“Hail,” he gurgled, his fingers stained red. “Hydra.”

“Just shut up and die,” you snapped as your soldier ripped his mask off. “Soldat,” you said, softer, almost crying all over again.

“Sparrow,” he whispered.

There was nothing gentle or sweet in the way pressed his lips to yours, but it was warm and safe as he pulled you against you. Your arms slipped around him as you returned the kiss, your cheeks still wet from crying. For a second there, you thought you’d lost him. For once, fate decided not to be cruel to you.

It brought you back together.

“I’m sorry I couldn't get to you sooner,” he said when he allowed you a moment to breathe, quickly scanning as much of you as he could. “Did they hurt you?”

“No, I’m okay. I just thought…” you trailed off with a shake of your head. “You came back to me.”

But how?

“I’ll always find you, Sparrow,” he said, touching your cheek as your heart swelled. “Steve helped me remember a lot of things. Including you.”

“The man on the bridge? You saw him again?” You asked before an alarm sounded, the blaring force echoing in the room.

“Yes. And his friend is sending reinforcements, so we need to go,” he said over the noise, nudging the doctor’s body with the toe of his boot before he stepped on his glasses.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

Where could you go since you no longer had a home? You had so many questions, but understood that you’d have to wait for answers. Getting out of there in one piece was your priority.

“Somewhere safe,” he answered, fear flickering in his eyes for a moment. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” you promised without hesitation. And anything else you had to offer him.

The next kiss was one of gentleness, relief, and thanks. “One thing before we leave.”

“What’s that?” You asked as he took your hand.

Love and determination filled his eyes as he glanced back at you and put a gun in your other hand. “We burn it down.”

You could hardly contain the fire inside you as you smiled. “Together.”

You didn’t know what the reinforcements would do or what would await you once you got out. It didn’t matter. Your soldier found his way back to you and you would follow wherever he went. The two of you would finally leave Hydra behind.

In a pile of rubble and ash.

But you’d find out soon enough that the man on the bridge wouldn't let your soldier go either.

I'll try not to let so much time pass before the next update. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

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