#i miss my friends i miss doing things i miss being overwhelmingly busy

[elytrafemme]

i am one day into not having a summer class anymore and i am not only dealing with Guilt Of Unemployment (i am privileged in that i don't need a job right now but after my original attempts at being employed i've not revisited the concept and that's objectively selfish of me but guilt is not a productive emotion so i'm trying to work through it) but also the Anxiety Of Fixation (girl who is fixated on dan and phil but gets stressed watching any content by them right now but is stressed when not watching their content and also realizes the aforementioned stress is something to address but it doesn't go away even if i do)

anyway. on a quest to figure out what to do with myself right now i fear

[eddiernunson]

Really Drives Me Mad | Bfs Dad!Eddie Munson x Reader | 18+

Master List | Next Part

My best friend tells me that he's a keeper

I really like Dylan a lot But Dylan's dad He really drives me mad With his faded tats Sings in a cover band Yeah he's super hot with his ripped dad bod Oh my, oh my god I like Dylan a lot But oh god I love Dylan's dad

I know y'all weren't expecting this... Well neither was I. It like invaded my mind and begged me to write it. (this is the dirtiest thing ive ever written.)

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: You've been dating Dylan Munson for a little bit, and it's going well, or at least you feel like it is. Despite everything right with Dylan you can't help but feel uneasy...then you meet Eddie Munson, his dad... and find yourself wet at the sight of him. (reader is in her 20s, Eddie probably in his 40s or so)

Warnings: masturbation (both), voyeurism (both), lot of perv!Eddie, reader ends up cheating, just some dirty stuff. MINORS DNI.

As you sit cross legged on your best friend’s garage couch mindlessly watching some Netflix while she took another hit, your phone dings, a text message you’ve been waiting on.

“Ooh, speak of the devil.” She teases you, putting the bong aside to peek at what Dylan texted you. You roll your eyes at her, answering him to pick you up in the morning. “What did he say?”

Her eyebrows were wagging over-exaggeratingly, and you narrow your eyes. “Just asked when I wanted to get picked up for our trip to the beach tomorrow.”

“Are you excited?” She asks, her voice suggestive and you can hear more excitement in her voice alone than you felt about the trip.

“Yes.” You lie to her, because if you told the truth, you knew you’d hear about it.

Dylan was a good guy. You met him through a singles mixer you went to for shits and giggles and ended up meeting him. He had no business being there, his league was not the type of girl to go to a Fajita style mixer even for laughs. He was so overwhelmingly better looking than every other guy in that mixer that scooping him up before anyone dug their claws in was the logical thing to do.

It wasn’t that you didn’t find him hot.

Dylan ended up being almost everything you said you were looking for. Stable. Ready for commitment. Willing to go the extra mile.

He was stable in every way it takes most men into their 30s to figure out.

You knew he was a rare find as someone dating in your 20s. Yet, there was just something missing.

It wasn’t anything you could describe, and each time you had expressed the feeling people seem to dismiss it, claiming it stemmed from every failed relationship you’ve had. Logically, you should be head over heels over this man who is so sweet and willing to do the most.

But the feeling just nagged at your skull.

For the sake of not feeling guilty and seeing that same bug-eyed expression on your best friend you lie. It felt weird to have to lie to her just to seem grateful for what life has provided to you on a silver platter. So, until an actual reason for this hesitancy presents itself, the dates and the heavy make out sessions and whatnot will continue.

The ego boost he provides when he sends you drooling emojis when you send a bikini selfie for what you’re wearing the next day certainly doesn’t help your case.

“I’m so glad you found him, he’s so sweet.” She mentions off-hand.

You nod, gritting your teeth.

-

Dylan is on time, as always, prompt and proper to pick you up from your apartment. He texts to let you know he was outside, and you grab your beach bag of snacks and your towel and do a final assessment in the mirror.

Cute pink bikini that hung by a string sitting high on your hips, barely hidden by the long cut out dress you wore. Your bag matched the bikini, and you wore some tiny sunnies to put the whole look together. If you’re gonna date someone as good looking might as well look the part.

As you approached his chevy truck he was animatedly bug eyed while looking at you, his brown eyes popping out of their socket while he drummed his steering wheel. His zest and energy for life was always so contagious. You smiled at him, your cheeks burning as you climbed into the passenger seat.

“Hi baby.” He greets you, kissing you softly. You find yourself grinning into it.

He pulls out onto the main road for the forty-five-minute trip to the lake most people go for a weekend getaway. About five minutes down the road, Dylan pats his cargo shorts down real quick and grunts in disappointment.

“What?”

“Forgot the parking pass for the beach lot. I literally got that for fifteen dollars so I wouldn’t have to pay twenty at the till.” He explains, making a sudden left turn.

You’ve been to his house before, and he usually takes you there when his dad is either at work or just not home. You weren’t sure why, his dad seemed like a decent dude.

(From what you’ve heard anyway)

Maybe, like you, he wasn’t ready for meeting the parents yet.

“Oh, I think my dad will be home around now. Hope that’s okay.” He says, as if you had just spoken aloud. “I think it was time for you to meet him, anyways.”

Shit. Nope. He was ready. You were no where ready for him to meet your mom, who already loved him just from your best friend’s descriptions.

“Oh. Sure.” You glance down to your outfit, something worn not knowing you were about to meet parents. “Are you sure I’m dressed for that though?”

“My dad has met girlfriends in worse positions.” Dylan laughs. “Trust me. This is a better meeting.”

This helps you very little.

Five minutes down the road he pulls into the starter home he and his dad have been living in his whole life, a sweet little bungalow with three rooms and two bathrooms. It was by no means anything to cough at, certainly impressive for a mechanic, but Dylan seemed to behave incredibly sheepishly every time.

Dylan pulls in, and your heart races as you see his dad’s truck in the driveway. As Dylan gets out to open your door, he can feel your nervousness. “Can I just stay here?” You ask him, unsure why he needed you to go in for a pass in the first place.

“Oh I promise he doesn’t bite.” He jokes.

You give him a weak smile, holding his hand as you walked to the front door. The door doesn’t need a key, swinging open and the bright sunlight giving you both a shadow against the hardwood flooring. Dylan walks in, calling for his dad’s name. You squeeze his hand tighter out of nervousness. Eventually the sounds of his creaky steps are heard from the kitchen where Dylan is scanning for his pass, signalling his father coming down the steps.

You were facing towards the stove across the island counter, watching Dylan go through the drawers for it.

“Woah, thought you’d be halfway to the beach by now, you were so damn excited.” You hear his dad’s voice, and there’s something about it, his tone leaning towards a tease that enticed you to turn your head towards him.

Your jaw dropped. Or it didn’t. Certainly felt like a moment for your mouth to open in amazement. In a split second you knew where Dylan got his good looks, and it was only a fraction of how mouth watering his dad was.

He wonders in with sweatpants low on his hips wearing a band t-shirt and his long curly hair was wet from a shower. As he shuffled by to the fridge, the scent of aftershave invaded your nose and somehow it just went straight to your core. He was certainly fit even for a dad, slight dad bod but nothing to poke at, you could tell he worked with his hands.

“Forgot my pass.” He mutters, looking through another drawer.

“I saw it this morning, so I put it in your bag as you were heading out.” His dad mentions off hand, getting the ingredients for a bowl of cereal out. As he lifted his hands over his head revealing a tattoo on his tummy and the treasure trail saliva entered your mouth like water bursting through a man-made dam.

“Seriously?” Dylan dead pans. He turns to you, and you switch your glance to seem innocent like you haven’t been eye-fucking his dad. “I’m gonna go double check it’s in there. Just stay here be right back.” He kisses you on the forehead and leaves without giving you a chance to protest.

“Nice, to meet you, by the way.” He says in a gruff voice as he pours the sugary cereal into the bowl.

“Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Munson.” Your voice sounded strained; you were hoping you were just imagining it.

He lets out a noise in disgust, his face scrunching up comically. “Oh god. Don’t call me that. Call me Eddie. Never Mr. Munson. Gross.”

You smile closed mouthed at his genuine disgust for it, and Eddie presents a smile as if your laughter was the long-term goal. “Nice to meet you, Eddie.”

“Much better.” He praises you, and it might be the closest thing you’ll ever get to the kind of praise you wanted from him, the kind where you find yourself on your knees in the kitchen, but you happily accepted it. Any crumbs you would happily take.

He could spit on you, and you would thank him.

Oh. That’s…new.

That wasn’t something you felt with Dylan at all. If Dylan had decided to spit on your face during sex, you would call the police. It would turn you off so fast you would kick him off you.

“Going to Lake Maureen?” He asks you, supposedly making small talk.

“Nope.” You tell him. “Museum.”

Eddie tilted his head, and from his shoulder’s shaking and the slow smile you could tell he was laughing.

“Yes.” You affirm.

“Where did you meet again?” Eddie asks as he puts away the milk, his voice seeming to extend from a thought he doesn’t share.

“Oh, a mixer.”

“Not the church mixer.” Eddie tilts his head, seeming genuinely fearful it was the truth.

You confirm that yes, it was the church mixer.

Eddie grabs a mug to pour the coffee you hadn’t noticed had he put on. As his hands cup a graphic mug you couldn’t see the comic for, you see the silver rings on his fingers and if your core wasn’t heated up before, it certainly was now.  He leans forward, taking a sip of straight black coffee for a minute. “Sweetheart. You’re far too pretty to be going to a goddamn mixer. No wonder he was so fucking enthralled when he got home that day.”

You feel your face heat up at the nickname followed by him calling you pretty. Your thighs squeeze together as you attempt to force your heart back into your chest where it belonged. Somehow your extremities were freezing, and all the heat was centered in your pussy, just soaked from his presence alone.

He could tell you weren’t taking the compliment seriously. “Seriously. If he fucks it up and you end up single again no more fucking mixers for you.”

“Not like I had any more choices.” You defend yourself, not knowing why his insistence turned you on so much.

Eddie rolls his eyes as if he didn’t believe you. His mouth opens to tell you something, and the sound of Dylan bursting through the front door seems to cut him off. “Oh, you should’ve told me, we could’ve been almost there by now. Come on, baby! See you dad!”

The door slams, and you guessed you were supposed to follow him. “Um, you were gonna say something?” and the mystery is just too much for you.

“Oh. Was I? Totally forgot.” Eddie shrugs, putting his coffee mug down, having chugged that entire cup within the conversation. “Have fun.”

He scoops another spoonful of sugary cereal in his mouth, the dimples on his face prominent but the smile devious.

That smile would haunt you for the next twelve hours.

-

The trip with Dylan was alright, he swore up and down it was the best trip and it just brought you both closer as a couple. You probably would’ve agreed. A trip to the beach with Dylan Munson sounded enticing and sexy and adventurous for the most part until you met his dad.

Now thoughts of his flexed forearms has he gripped the counter while talking to you, wet hair smelling beautifully of the musk shampoo he used invaded your mind. Dylan fingering you on the beach under your skirt was yes, smoking hot, but as you imagined a certain someone else doing the same it brought you to your orgasm much quicker and much harder. Dylan figured he must be doing something right.

Guilt evaded you as you knew what the hell you were doing was wrong. You now had an excuse to get rid of him, you were far more into his dad than you ever were into him, and it should’ve been a sign.

But if you broke up with him now, you wouldn’t be able to see his dad. Yet as you took a walk down the shoreline into a cave and your eyes close picturing certain ringed fingers gripping your hips as Dylan did it made the sneaking off and the public sex that much hotter.

Seems you were sluttier than your initial sex life led you to believe. Turns out, you just haven’t met a man you wanted to be slutty for. Public sex seemed fun in theory, always so nerve wrecking in practice.

Public sex with Eddie felt like you wanted to get caught with him, fully enjoying his cock and letting people see. Voyeurism mixed with public embarrassment was suddenly hot and you got so into it that Dylan expressed how excited he was to fuck you on the next hike you took together, something he has expressed much interest in, but you denied bashfully every time.  

Because with Dylan sex wasn’t all encaptivating. Sure he could make you cum, but you were never ready to rip off his clothes in a heartbeat. The moment you saw Eddie your fingers started to itch for that damn low sitting sweatpants for them to droop just a little…bit…more.

Dylan drops you off with a romantic wet kiss, and you walk into the door of your apartment in a daze. Before you can even think about it, you find yourself on your bed, your skirt around your ankles and two of your fingers down your bikini bottoms.

You start to take them off but there’s a voice you picture saying, “No, no. Keep them on like the whore you are.” It was not Dylan’s.

You listened to it, pretending to rub your clit in front of him watching. You could see a wild eye on his face, picturing him not being able to touch you driving him mad. The heat that expands into your pussy from that thought alone drives your hips for more friction. “Oh so fucking needy, yeah?” You imagine him saying to you, and fuck, you couldn’t not think of him being good at dirty talk. “Need this cock, don’t ya?”

The image of him slowly working the elastic waist-band of his sweatpants made you moan aloud, needily grinding on your own fingers.

“Too damn bad. You’re just gonna have to make yourself cum, like the slut you are.”

The slight foreplay you were accidentally given all day through your own imagination mixed with how fucking wet you were brought you to a quick orgasm, fluttering in your extremities as you continued imagining the wild eyes on Eddie’s face or the firm voice as he didn’t give you a choice on your dating pool.

This was the first truly earth-shattering orgasm you’ve ever felt in your life. One that you truly had to recover from…and it was from just picturing this man.

Something in you wanted the real thing, and you were terrified of how willing you were to go through with it, and equally as terrified of going through life wondering what it could’ve been like

If sex with Eddie Munson was as good as the orgasm you gave yourself, you might have to be Dylan’s stepmom, because you just found what was missing.

-

“Hey baby.” Dylan says, welcoming you as he opens the door.

You hold your pillow and a duffle bag sits on your shoulder for a sleepover, and the shorter shorts with a tank top you wear signalling you were ready for a night in. As you pass by him, Dylan gives out a low whistle to how well your ass is shown off in the pair of shorts you wore. They were so well fitting he could see you were either wearing a thong or nothing, but you could tell it turned him on. While this gave you a confidence boost, he wasn’t the target audience.

When you requested the sleepover Dylan warned you his dad would be there. Good. You assured him that would be fine. That was the goal.

“Hi, sweetheart!” Eddie calls down to you, and the smile invades your face before you could stop it.

“Hi, Mr. Munson!” You call out, and the sound of gagging is heard. “I meant Eddie!”

“Oh, I forgot he gets everyone to call him by his first name, like a lame youth pastor.” Dylan rolls his eyes, tugging on your hand to bring you to the couch in the living room. “Movie?”

You nod jerkily. Dylan works around you, getting a blanket, popcorn, and the movie all set up. He turns down the lights, winking at you suggestively as he does so.

Less than five minutes into the movie, the beginning credits still lingering on to the actors he leans in with an open mouth, his hand making its way to your hip. With the smell of him still fresh, being able to smell him on the couch you were on, it was easy to get eagerly into the kissing. This encouraged Dylan, of course confusing your eagerness for him. He reaches down, placing two of his fingers over your clothed pussy.

You moan lightly, and he shushes you softly. Mentally you roll your eyes, because he was telling you to be quiet because his dad was home.

You were hooking up with him on his couch because his dad was home. You listen to him anyway, and he starts to rub in small circles, you moan even higher, imagining he could hear you and getting off to it. “Shh, baby.” Dylan whispers. “Oh, you’re wet. Fuck.”

He slips his hands into your shorts, leaning you down to rub your pussy and attack your neck at the same time. “Pussy feels…mazing.” Dylan mutters between the slobbery neck kisses he gives you. It was enough for you to picture him, but suddenly Eddie coming downstairs right now without knowing what you were doing got you off even more.

“Eat me out?” You ask him, and ever the gentleman he smiles devilishly at you as he crawls down. He goes to place the blanket over his head, and you stop him. “Wanna see your face.”

Okay, you wanted to see Eddie see your pussy as his son went down on you, but it made Dylan eager enough to dig in in a way you haven’t seen from him yet.

You whine from the hot pleasure it gave you, you grind on his face, the heat focused on your pussy in a way that has never happened before. The idea of Eddie accidentally walking in on you but watching instead of saying anything gets you off so easily Dylan is feeling your juices wet his chin and your ass like it never has before.

“Greedy baby.” He mumbles, placing two fingers into you and giving kisses to your thighs as he pumps them.

“Gonna cum soon, Dyl.” You warn him.

Luckily, Dylan knows it means to keep doing what he’s doing. You were close, but the sound of footsteps upstairs followed by a door closing pushed you over the edge, knowing he could very well be going to his room from elsewhere, but hoping he was at the top of the stairs.

Just the possibility of him being at the top pushed you over. “Holy shit.” Dylan mutters, crawling up to you. “Must’ve been riled up, huh.”

“Yeah.” You tell him, suddenly feeling Dylan’s boner poking the inside of your knee. “Mere, I wanna help you.”

“No, I wanna fuck you, let’s go to my room.”

His room…down the hall…where there’s a better chance he could hear you. “Sure!”

-

Eddie Munson was sure there was something out to get him. The moment your pretty fucking face greeted him in his kitchen when he wondered down fresh from a shower he was sure there was something laughing at this pure misery.

The smile on your face, the smell of your sweet perfume, the way your skirt hugged your hips all melted him into one pot. When you told him you met Dylan at a fucking mixer, he wanted to shoot the person who made you feel like you were worthy of being ogled at by a bunch of singles at an awkward church mixer.

A church mixer.

He hated that Dylan liked them, always said only weirdos go there and was sure Dylan as exaggerating when he expressed how gorgeous and out of his league you were.

His heart freezing at the sight of you sit perched on one of his stools, shyly watching your boyfriend, even only from the back made him wonder if angels were real. Fuck, he didn’t ask for any proof of your beauty when offered to show your Instagram, but he wouldn’t have believed it.

He spent that entire first conversation doing everything he could to be a fucking father figure and remind himself you were dating his son. He was not hitting on you at a bar, he was your boyfriend’s dad.

Somehow that just made the forbidden part about it that much hotter.

He felt like a pervert as the scent of your shampoo jumped out at him when he passed by you for the milk, and he had wanted to stop in place and take a big inhale. Felt like an even bigger pervert as he saw the string of your bikini bottom sitting high on your hip peaking out of your skirt and he just wanted to get a shot of that underskirt.

Every thought he had about you as your wit came through the conversation, he wondered what the hell you were doing with Dylan. He loved his kid, but you deserved better than what he knew his kid would provide.

He knew about Dylan that he’d be a great husband one day. Someone reliable and trustworthy enough to build a life with.

He didn’t want that for you. He wanted you to have something mind-blowing and earth shattering, something intoxicating. Something that made you feel the way he felt just by smelling your goddamn shampoo. Your teeny tiny bikini with your hair up in a messy bun with cute little sunglasses all somehow went to his cock, and he was glad you were called over before he said something even more stupid.

Eddie rolled his eyes at your claim there wasn’t a bigger dating pool, opening his mouth to retort--“Oh, you should’ve told me, we could’ve been almost there by now. Come on, baby! See you dad!”

The door slams, and that concluded the end of that conversation. “Um, you were gonna say something?” you ask him, and he wondered if the intrigue on your face was something he just imagined.

“Oh. Was I? Totally forgot.” Eddie lies. I was gonna say I am proof there is a bigger dating pool than you would believe, sweetheart… but he knew it would’ve said something he couldn’t unsay.

Dylan told him you were coming over for a sleepover, and he and Dylan’s room were only separated by the bathroom. Eddie might use the basement for the night because he didn’t trust his perverted mind not to seek you out and look at what little pjs you have chosen to wear. He gave you space out of respect when you arrived, wondering if it was flirting when you called him Mr. Munson.

Suddenly a noise that Eddie could only describe as the doorbell to heaven (or hell with what his mind was thinking) reached the door he had kept open for this very reason.

He kept his tv playing and sneaked off to the top of the stairs, hoping to catch his kid getting you off while you moaned under the covers. The treat he was given was far better, the hand over your tight ass shorts feeling you up as you leaned back and whined all high pitched. Eddie’s cock was so hard at the moment not touching it would be like self-neglect.

He backed up against the wall by the stairs, listening to your moans as he got you off, desperately wishing it was his fingers in your wet heat. He imagined your scrunched up face as you made those stunning noises, starting to stroke himself. A pause occurs, your blissed out voice asking him to eat you out. He bites back a moan at wanting to taste you, wanting to get all up in those juices and to show him how much you turned him on. He leans over the wall into the stair entry, expecting the blanket to be covering you but instead being met with your pussy on full display.

A low guttural moan escapes his throat, fucking into his fist and pretending it was you bent over for him instead, whining the same exact way. He knew you would have a pretty pussy, but this was just un-fucking fair.

You warn Dylan you were about to cum, and that pushes him over his own edge, and he suddenly has a mess he needs to clean up all over his fist. God he wanted you to clean it, to suck it all up. He was making himself hard again and he had to flee to his fucking bedroom to wash up.

Suddenly the creak of the stairs erupts as he is cleaning himself up, and Dylan’s door closes. Oh. They’re…continuing.

Your moans are suddenly loud, and Eddie finds himself hard again as he realizes he’s hearing you being fucked. Oh, he knew you were a fucking dirty slut.

Just fucking knew it. Something that hasn’t happened since he was in his 20s, but he’s ready to jerk himself off within minutes of just cumming. “Yeah, my whore being fucked open, letting everyone hear how good she feels, oh shit.” Eddie mutters to himself, right next to his door.

He ends up finishing at the same time you did, which didn’t take either one of you very long.

-

The next morning you wake next to Dylan sleeping with a big smile on his face. To him, that was the best sex you’ve ever had together. Mixed with your adventure at the beach last week, you guys were doing better than ever.

 To you, it was only amazing because you kept thinking of Eddie fucking you and it did everything for your core. You get up in the tiny pair of pajamas you had packed, something that barely covered your ass and headed downstairs for some breakfast.

As you were leant down to assess the cereals, you heard the stride of someone come in behind you.

Eddie walks in behind you, holding back a swear as he sees your pussy peaking out of your pajama bottoms. A gentleman, and not knowing you fully reciprocated every horny thought, he ignores it and hopes you sit up.

You don’t, leaning even more forward and making a show of wondering what to eat. Eddie inhales, allowing himself to watch you. You turn around to him jerking his head away, and you felt some pride in getting his attention. “Morning.” You greet him, offering a bowl for him.

He rejects it. “Not hungry.”

“Oh.” You pour cereal, and Eddie focuses on not staring at your beaded nipples peaking through the tiny silk top you wore.

“Fuck.” He whispered, the boner growing.

“Something wrong?” You ask him innocently, and knowing this was working to your benefit made you nervous but eager.

“Lots to do today.” Like jerk off another three times.

“Like what?” You asked, taking a spoonful of cereal even though you had no appetite from the butterflies in your stomach.

“Oh not much.” Eddie wonders to you, and by reaching over you to grab the cereal he wonder if he could sneak a smell from your shampoo.

You sit up as he leans away, and you are so close you can see just how gorgeous he is. God, those brown eyes. “Do you have any…one to do?” You ask, glancing back and forth between his pretty lips and his even prettier eyes. You didn’t even know which ones to focus on.

Eddie leans in a bit to you, just ghosting over your lips. “Are you sure…that you want this?”

You nod, your eyes glazing over in want as the arousal in your gut suddenly exploded into a need.

“Cause…cause if we do this there is no going back. If your pussy…” he inhales sharply, taking a breath of your hair. “is as good as I imagine, there’s no way I’m giving you back.”

This sentence turns you into gelatin, and you lean forward to finally kiss him, his lips rough as he seemingly forgets how to act for a moment.

His brain finally catches up and he grabs onto you, inhaling and messy kisses, and grabby hands all at once as he tries to do everything he’s wanted to. Your hands make their way into his hair, and it was as soft as you pictured it. His lips messily kiss down your jaw onto your neck and you let out a whine. He smiles widely at that. “Good. One I made. Needed that.”

“You heard me…yesterday?” You asked, wetter from the idea of it.

“Heard you? Fucking came to it.” He swears, as he continues an assault on your neck. You moan in response, your hips involuntarily grinding up. “Come on, upstairs.”

You almost wanted to get caught by Dylan, but to keep it going longer you follow Eddie giddily upstairs as he trips over himself and you felt like a goddamn teenager. You follow him into his room, and the curtains were blackout curtains, the lights turned off giving the illusion of everything being dark. “Can we turn on the lights?” You ask, delicately. “I wanna see you.”

Eddie turns on his dimmer switch light so it was low, and the look in his eye as he approaches you sat on his bed had a level of lust in them that drove you wild. He leans in to give you a kiss after sitting right by you, and it wasn’t enough touching for you. You crawl forward as you eagerly kissed him back, straddling his lap. “Fuck, sweetheart, you are fucking gorgeous.” He mutters, the silk pajamas you wore bunching up in his hands as he grabbed at it. “The little strap that peaked out of your skirt tied together was just tempting me to unwrap you like a present.” He huffs, still kissing your neck. You find yourself impatient, wanting his lips back on yours.

“Fuck, been thinkin’ about you on my cock ever…” he inhales your perfume with a deep grunting sigh of content. “ever since.”

You mewl to his confessions, and he’s a much better talker than you could’ve imagined. Your hips start to grind on their own accord and with the little fabric they have between your silk shorts and his thin pajama pants you felt his hard cock fairly easily. You let out a high moan of contentment, and Eddie watches as you grind on his cock and get yourself off so easily. “Oh shit, she’s a dirty slut, hey.” Eddie comments leaning back and watching you grind yourself. “Doesn’t even need a cock inside her, will just take anything I give her with a smile on her face.”

“I would—” you gasp, the material scratching your clit in the best way, “I would take any crumbs, fuck.”

You start to moan higher and grind faster, and Eddie wanted to make you cum by his hands or his mouth the first time but you making yourself cum against his pants meant he was now using this as a fucking cum rag to smell you when you weren’t near. “Take off those shorts, doll. Wanna see your pussy.”

“Ok.” They are yanked off without a second thought.

“Oh, good listener. What a good girl.” He comments petting your hair gently as you continued to grind again with your heat now directly against his pj pants, he could feel it against his cock. “Oh, fuck, you are soaked. My fucking horny slut.”

“Horny for you.” You whimper the edge just right there.

“Whoring herself out for the Munsons.” He comments, sort of bitter he had to hear you fuck his son before he could claim you.

“Pictured it was you.” You admit, your voice in a whisper as you confessed but the high you wanted almost there.

“Fuck, did you?” He asks, the idea you only enjoying it so much because you pictured him.

“Mmhmm. Pictured you watching me, too.”

“Fucking little voyeur.” He whispers, and you nodded. He rewarded you by grabbing your hips and rutting against you and hitting your clit even harder and your orgasm snuck up on you, and the extra attention Eddie pays you as he watches it wash through you only helps the high take longer to recover from.

“Oh my god.” You whisper, a last of the intense orgasm still running through you.

“Not done.” Eddie whispers, a big smirk on his face. He lightly pushes you down and grabs your legs and puts them over his shoulder. You watch him carefully, his face looking at your pussy at a way that would usually resolve in embarrassment. Instead, it only turned you on more because it meant he wanted you just as much.

He dives into your pussy with a level of expertise that only came from years of pleasuring women. You don’t know why but you knew he got off to pleasuring others from the moment you saw him and every moan you let out he absorbed it, getting better and better as your verbal ques direct him. The heat in your pussy intensifies as he continues, fucking two of his fingers into you.

You place your hands in his hair, grinding up when the feeling of wanting to be fucked takes over you. “No, patience baby. I need to see what you look like when you squirt.”

“I-I can’t—”

“Every woman can, sweetheart. Just means you’ve had no one show you yet. Feel that?” He asks you, the heat in your pussy expanding as he continued to attack your clit and finger fuck you.

You nod, the feeling in your gut like a tidal wave of pleasure.

“Focus on it.” You do, and as you do you look up at his eyes, already staring into yours as he assesses your reactions. The heat intensifies by a thousand, and the feeling of wanting to…pee…takes over.

“Fuck—” you start to protest.

“Let it happen. Let go. It’ll feel so fucking good…baby let go. Gonna feel so fucking good.” You trust him so you let go and a gush invades your ear as a red-hot pleasure makes home in your pussy. “One more?” Eddie asks you, his thumb now messaging your clit.

You twitch under him, your bud being so sensitive. “Oh fuck, Ed. Too much.”

“No, I think you can cum again. Wanna see that beautiful face all scrunched up. Wanna take a photo.” He holds out his phone casually, and your face heats up. “Not feeling all the sudden shy, are ya? You whored your little pussy for me how is this different?”

“Its…” you manage out, already close again. “Its hot.”

“She gonna cum again, all over my fingers?”

“All over your fingers.”

“You gonna lick em clean?”

“Can we share?”

Eddie groans audibly, titling his head back. “Of course, doll. Of fucking course, now cum all over them, please.”

The third orgasm takes over your body, and it’s so goddamn good you stop responding for a minute which causes Eddie to panic. “Oh shit, you okay?”

Giggles burst out of you, the kind of post orgasm giggles you’ve only read about in spicy novels. You thought they were fake. “Can I suck you off now?”

Eddie’s eyes bulge, and he realizes his hand is still on your pussy. He taps it lightly, causing you to whine. He lifts the finger first, inserting it into your mouth. “Suck this first.” You wrap your tongue around it, keeping eye contact as you taste yourself, and this is the only time it’s ever been truly hot to be able to taste yourself. Other times it was just perplexing.

Eddie takes the other finger when you let go and starts sucking on it, he closes his eye, enjoying the taste of your pussy on his tongue. Eddie crawls onto his bed and you basically pounce him, yanking his pj pants down as fast as they go, wanting to see his cock. His eyes watch you, blown and enwrapped in lust as he watches your eagerness.

As his cock pops out of his pants, an involuntary smile spreads across your face. The head to his cock was so pink, he must’ve been horny. “Oh, pretty cock.” You mutter, and he wasn’t even sure if you were saying to him or just saying it out loud. “Oh my god, look how pink your head is. Mmm..sure seem like you need some attention.”

You take the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking on it alone but getting used to his girth. Holy he was gonna hurt even with how wet you were. You start sucking on it, taking bit by bit more into your mouth each time, eagerly making sloppy spit sounds as you did so. It wasn’t hard to generate the spit you needed, the sight of his dick made your mouth water.

Your head bobbed up and down on it, illicit sounds being drawn out of him, only encouraging you more as the feeling of his rings harsh against your scalp making you wet. You pop off him, spit connected from your mouth to his dick. You lean forward to his treasure trail, licking the hair and biting at it, something you’ve wanted to do since you saw him. You find your way back down and passed his cock and he’s about to ask when take one of his balls into your mouth, sucking loudly.

“Oh fuck, do you know how to use that pretty little mouth. Holy shit.” You roam over it with your tongue, sucking it in and out repeatedly. Then you move on to the next one, giving it its own show as well. Your mouth moves back to suck on his cock but he tugs on your hair to bring him up to you.

“Want you to face fuck me.” You say to him, still not done sucking on his cock.

“Nother time. Lemme fuck you.” He mutters, tugging on the shirt you still wore. You crawl back up to straddle him, nothing between his cock and your pussy now, but he places his cock on it so the shaft slides in-between your folds, teasing you, and causing you to whine. “Oh shit.” He works on the buttons holding your silky pink shirt, the skilled hands working fast through each one. As each one reveals another inch of skin, he feels more intoxicated by you, especially how you’re begging him to put his cock in. Your tits fall out of the shirt, and he rips the back off you, and you let it fall to the floor. You grab onto his band shirt, attempting to move it off him. You barely do it, the feeling of his cock so close inside you causing your focus to fall apart in seconds. He laughs, nearly cruel, yanking the shirt off, revealing more tattoos you’ve never seen. Your hands flutter to his chest, moving to each tattoo and touching every inch you can.

Your mission to focus and analyze each tattoo is interrupted by him maneuvering you onto your back. You lay there, open and ready for him. “Holy shit, fucking smoking hot.” He mutters, like he couldn’t believe you were here with him.

It was you who was the lucky one, he was crazy.

“You’re hotter.” You mutter, as he starts to align his cock with your entrance. “Thought of you last night, made myself cum so hard.”

“Oh fuck. What was I doing?” He asks, still teasing you with it.

“Just watching me finger myself. Talking me through it. Calling me a whore.” He groans, tapping his cock on it. “Please, Ed need your cock.”

“Beg for it, you fucking slut.” He whispers, something taking over him.

“Please, daddy. Want your cock. Want you to fuck me like a ragdoll. Please, pretty please fuck me until I’m a puddle. I just want your cock in me, so fucking bad.”

“Gonna be a good slut for me?”

“Yes..I will I promise.”

He chuckles darkly and finally…finally moves into you. Your eyes cross and a moan so erotic leaves your body and you had barely a single ounce of control over that left your mouth at that point.

Eddie puts his head into your neck, feeling your head tighten around him in pleasure as you got used to his girth and length.

“Move…please?”

“Thought you were gonna take the crumbs I gave you, slut.” He mutters.

“Fuck. Sorry.”

He smiles and your fingers fidgeting at your sides were a dead giveaway you were just needy for him to move. It made him feel fucking powerful just his cock could make you feel like this. He starts rocking, slowly and you whine from this resolve alone. “Oh what a fucking whore, just needed a good fucking.” He mutters into your ear, his hand finding its way to your neck. “Putting her pussy on display for me, showing she just needed someone to know how to fuck her.”

You say nothing in response, and his hips are starting to rock against yours harder. Your eyes reach the back of your head as you lose air, but you revel in the feeling of nearly passing out as he takes his hand off. “Holy shit, you really are just a whore.”

You nod, eyes half lidded as you looked up at his pussy drunk eyes. “Little…cockdrunk…slut…” he inhales sharply and a wad of spit hits your face and you find yourself opening your mouth for more. “Fuck—” his hips stutter at the sight of your smile when his saliva hits your mouth. He spits right into it as you open for more and you act like it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted, cause it was.

Your tongue pokes out, gasping in more need. His hips are against yours so harshly you would’ve been afraid of bruising if it didn’t fucking turn you on so bad.

“Fucking slut, you want me to cum in you? Wanna be filled with my fucking cum?” You nod, too cocked out to speak, you’ve never felt this good from penetration alone before. “Cum with me, doll.” He mutters using his two fingers against your clit as he leans in to kiss you. Within moments you flutter around him, moaning into his mouth and he lets go of your kiss, stuttering his hips and letting out a loud moan as you feel him fill you up.

His body weight collapses ontop of you, and his hands are suddenly gentle as they sweep at your bangs sticking to your sweaty forehead. “Fuck.” He mutters, giving you a dazed-out look of pure adoration. “That was much better than anything I came up with.”

You nod in agreement, words still not coming to your mouth.

“You were such a good girl, yeah?” You smile, a heat coming up to your cheeks. “You listened to me so well. C’mere.” He wraps your lips in a kiss, his cock still in you, still hard and keeping all his cum in you.

“C-can we stay like this?” You ask timidly, not wanting his cock to leave yet.

“Ooh, baby wants to cock-warm? Sure. Wanna turn on a movie until 9, when Dylan usually wakes?” Eddie asks, already leaning towards the channel changer on his beside table.

Having to tell Dylan it was pretty much over the moment Eddie kissed you hadn’t even crossed your mind, and it would eventually twenty minutes into the movie when you got back to earth. Eddie knew the realization would kick in eventually so he let you watch a movie of your choice, sitting up on his bed with you straddled on his lap after a bit of maneuvering so you could both see the movie on his screen adjacent to his bed.

Eventually, Dylan was gonna wake.

Eventually, a storm would hit.

But for now, Eddie stayed inside you to pretend like it wasn’t over yet.

-

As always i Love reading comments, replies, reblogs <3 remember reblogging is the best way to support on Tumblr

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinncore @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you

[everparanoid]

Make me lose my breath, make me water ┃Wriothesley

pairing: f!reader x wriothesley

genre: fluff , NSFW

rating: 18+

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

tags: Cunnilingus, consent is hot, Reader is from Natlan, cuffs used inappropriately, Body Worship, My First Smut, Fontaine is France but it's not but it is, PWF, PWP, Mutual Pining, No use of y/n, Reader is Not Traveler (Genshin Impact), Creampie, biting kink, Written After 4.1 Update, Minor spoilers for 4.0 quest, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Light Bondage, light orgasm denial

wordcount: 6.1k

synopsis: The notorious Duke of the fortress of Meropide hasn't been on his A-game lately, and it shows.

Originally posted: 25.10.23 on AO3

a/n: I am now reposting my AO3 stuff onto tumblr. If you know me....no, you don't. ;) Also check out my AO3 for more wriothesley fics.

Song Inspiration: 'Water' by Tyla.

Three quick knocks rattled the door to his large office. The sound echoed up to the second floor where his desk resided.

“Come in,” Wriothesley said not looking up from his papers.

Wriothesley was a busy man. Well, being the Duke of the self-running, man-powered Fortress of Meropide wasn’t an easy job. It wasn’t exhausting either, but that was beside the point.

He took a slow prolonged sip from his teacup. The second sip in the last hour; the flavoured water had long since cooled from the general chill in the office. Not that he could feel anything beyond the normal chill of the underwater Fortress; and with the added benefit of his cryo vision he considered himself well-suited for the climate. That didn’t mean he didn’t miss the sun. Although, he could see the sun whenever he found a reason to leave the fortress, which he often didn’t.

He sighed for the fifth time that hour.

“I hear you’ve been doing that a lot,” You said ascending the spiralled staircase.

He paused and lowered his teacup, placing it on the small pile of report papers he was using as a mat. One side of his lips raised threatening to become a half smile. He quickly wiped it away.

“Oh? Have I now?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said, your voice smooth and confident. “I think I’m going to have to report you to Sigewinne.”

“Am I to assume she isn’t the one who sent you?”

His eyes met yours as you arrived atop the stairs, a hand on your hip and that sassy look in your eyes that he had grown fond of. He realised now why he had been so distracted.

He missed you.

You often frequented the fortress. First as a commissioned messenger between Wriothesley and Neuvillette, then a ‘convict’, and after that a friend and now… he didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to complain about the company. It was nice having someone as into tea as he was. Not that he would admit it, but it got lonely in the Fortress sometimes. More so since he met you.

“What? You afraid of a couple of stickers?”

“You know about that?” he grumbled, glancing at the pile of crumpled Melusine stickers littering the side of his desk, freshly pulled off the back of his coat.

“I have ears everywhere, Your Grace,” you smirk, withholding the crucial fact that you were the culprit providing the stickers for Sigewinne and her Melusine friends. They paid you back in giggles and smiles, and just the joy on their small faces was enough for you.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You probably know more about what’s happening in my humble home than me,” he said. Only a half lie on his part. You had an aptitude for making tough things bend to your will. Him being the toughest of things in question. He dismissed the thought of you flashing that blinding smile at anyone other than him.

Your shoulders rose and fell as a melodic laugh left your lips and graced his ears. If he could keep your voice in a bottle, he would.

You shook your head and pushed off the railing. His attention remained on you as you took a seat on the settee a bit away from his desk.  His throat—as if he hadn’t just taken a sip of his cold tea— felt overwhelmingly dry. He cleared it gently and picked up his teacup.

“How’s the Traveler and Paimon?” he asked, taking a sip.

The flavoured water was colder. He needed to calm down lest he froze the entire thing. He imagined you would be the only one to find amusement in him sipping ice.

You crossed your legs, and your skirt rode up. He looked away respectfully, much to his dismay and the favour of his quickly deteriorating will. He didn’t remember when it happened. When he started seeing you as more than just the middle woman between Neuvillette and himself; more than just a pawn in this game against the fatui, but now he found himself knowing the way your cheek dimpled slightly only on your right cheek when you laugh; how the skin around your eyes crow when you yawn or squint; how you change to fix your posture every thirty minutes when you’re lost in a book, and your neck starts to get sore, and your lower back begs to be stretched out. He pulled himself out of his thoughts before they had a chance to spiral further.

“They send their regards and a thank you for your help with ‘the situation,’” you said making air quotes. You didn’t mention how you didn’t plan to return to them for a while, but some things were best left unsaid with Wriothesley.  

Wriothesley nodded and gestured for you to join him in for some tea.

“If you have some time, of course,” he finished.

“Of course, If you are offering,” you responded. 

You went to stand but Wriothesley beat you to it. Thankful for the excuse to busy himself with something other than your smouldering presence. If he was an icy avalanche, then you were like a raging inferno, melting him into warm water. Perhaps it had something to do with the pyro vision dangling from your hip. He glanced at the vision and caught a glimpse of your bare legs. He froze, curious about what colour you might be wearing underneath your skirt: black, white, blue, red? Instead, he was beyond relieved when he saw black shorts. He breathed a sigh. That’s so you.

“I can heat the pot, you know?” you say, growing increasingly more tired of his strange mood and equally as obscure silence. Never had Wriothesley sighed so much. Honestly, you never would have considered him a sigher; more a hmpher or a quiet snickering type.

You and everyone in Fontaine who had the pleasure or misfortune—mostly the misfortune—of knowing the Duke, knew that recently he had been off. In truth, your visit hadn’t been to express Neuvillette’s message (though that made a great cover). No, you were there because of a chain of strange letters from Sigewinne, given to you by an equally as annoyed Clorinde, telling you of the Duke’s bizarre behaviour. According to these letters, he was more attentive than usual. He had appeared around the fortress checking in on the production zones and the inmates an alarming number of four times in the last month, nearly causing several heart attacks amongst the inmates, which as a result caused Sigewinne to be on high alert from all the overworking; he hasn’t been partaking in as many fights in the ring, and he hasn’t been drinking as much tea.

It was the last two on the list that shocked you the most and was most of the reason why you were there now. Wriothesley not drinking tea? Was Fontaine’s archon a fraud?

Uncrossing your legs, you stood and approached him. Placing a hand on the teapot, you heated the water with your vision.

“Let me do that," you said.

You sounded more breathless than you had intended to, but being so close to him does that to you. He always managed to take your breath away, but you had stupidly thought that with time those senseless reactions would die upon learning more about the mysterious brutish duke. The way all crushes faded when the mystic i.e., the lack of information and the delusions of projection, disappeared. Instead, it seemed to have only worsened. A butterfly somersaulted in your stomach when you accidentally brushed your hand against his.

Wriothesley stiffened. The touch went straight to his gut.

“Why are you here?” he responded smoothly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Not that he was concerned about why you were here—he couldn’t be happier—but you were supposed to be away for the next six months on a quest with the traveler to your home region, Natlan. Had Sigewinne called you back out of concern for him? He had to be more careful around the small nurse in the future.

“Your tea collection isn’t as depleted as usual,” you observed, staring into the box filled with other miniature boxes of tea, skilfully deflecting the question.

“An interrogation. You’re making me nervous,” he joked. “I am a busy man, I don’t always have time for tea.”

The look you fixed him with was not amused.

“You always drink at least three cups a day,” you said putting stress on the ‘at least.’ If it wasn’t tea, it would be a terrible addiction.

“Wow, you’re counting? I’m impressed.”

“Which flavour do you want?”  you said, ignoring him.

“The special blend.”

Without a second thought, you plopped the tea bag into the teapot and left it to brew.

It was your favourite, and that is why he chose it. He was more of a black tea or green tea kind of person, but the special blend he had made specifically for you. You didn’t know that though; you didn’t have to, he enjoyed hearing your quiet hums of happiness with each sip. It was great fodder for his late-night thoughts.

His heart warmed, as the skin around your eyes crowed the way he loved. Loved? He cleared his throat.

“You aren’t booking yourself as many fights. Which I would be happy about if I thought it didn’t directly correlate to why you’re acting so strange,” you lectured, and to him, you sounded like a particular short blue-haired Melusine.

“I can’t help but feel that you are worried about me,” he jested.

“As anyone would be about a friend,” you said.

Friend? Yes, that was what you were. Friends.

“Friends. Yes,” he agreed albeit stiffly.

You gave him a cautious side-eye unsure as to why his tone hurt you.

The word left a bitter taste in Wriothesley’s mouth and when you offered to fill his cup again, he accepted. Suddenly needing the soothing numbing effects of his tea more than ever. You topped up his cup before you poured the heated water into the teacup that had unintentionally become yours.

 Wriothesley didn’t let anyone else use it. It was superstitious really, and he didn’t consider himself a superstitious person. However, he worried that if he let anyone else use it you suddenly won’t come back one day. Not that you would be able to tell the difference if he did let someone else use the cup; all the teacups he owned looked exactly alike, but yours was different. It was a cup with a little chip on the rim near the handle from when you decided to have your tea with Neuvillette, Clorinde, the traveler and himself after the recent troubles with the Fatui. Your cup had chipped due to the heat of your hand; he could recall the horror on your face when he informed you how much each cup cost after letting you ramble on about owing him another cup.

You eventually fell into a comfortable silence sitting together on the settee.

“Clorinde has been visiting you a lot recently,” you said from behind your teacup. You took another sip.

Wriothesley recalled his earlier meeting with the champion dualist.

“Yes, we had some tea.”

“Really?”

“Jealous?”

You turned away.

“There is no need to be, I assure you,” he said, feeling a deep sense of relief at the way you seemed so bothered by his meeting with your mutual friend. The same friend who had been lecturing him about his ‘mutual’ feelings for you. Perhaps it was because of your reaction, that he realised that Clorinde might have been right. Or he was delusional? Maybe it was both.

Wriothesley placed his mug down on the coffee table. His hand brushed your bare thigh and you both jolt.

“Who says I am jealous?” You snapped, your lip twitching.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because your lip twitches when you’re upset, and your pyro vision makes you heat the things around you without abandon. Your eyes lose that spark which makes them look like the spotlights guarding Meropide, and you refuse to look at me because you know I’ll see right through you. And I do. I see you.”

He took another sip from his tea, pretending to not notice your tea bubbling in your hand, and the crack growing on the side of the teacup.

“It’s not nice to make jokes like that, Your Grace,” you said nervously.

Your eyes darted about the office settling on anything but him. The bookshelves looked fuller than usual. Has he been reading more books?

“Indeed. It is not but come on you should know me better than that by now. I never joke about things like this,” he said. His voice was clear and sincere. “Is it so strange that I would want to give a few words of praise out of genuine adoration?”

Especially since he saw the way you’re reacting; he knew that it was real and not a fantasy from his misguided thoughts. He wouldn’t lose this opportunity to make his feelings clear. He was a straightforward guy, after all. When he knew what he wanted was within his reach he wouldn’t simply pass it up. It would be unjust. He wanted to watch you smile, to be the one that caused that smile; he wanted to be the first person you went to when something good happened in your life; he wanted to feel your skin and not just in passing touches; he wanted to let it scold him, to embrace the flames.

“Ah, it seems I have ruined the mood,” he said smoothly.

He stood.

You went to stand too, but when you did the boiling liquid in your teacup splashed your hand. You hissed and dropped it. The porcelain shattered against the metal ground; the liquid spilt everywhere.

Wriothesley sat back down on the settee and took your warm hand in his immediately not sparing a second to glance down at his soaked boots. They encased yours and worked to chill the burn; one of the many benefits of having a cryo vision. The two of you couldn't be any more different. Fire and ice co-exist? Impossible.  Unimaginable. Dangerous. The tenderness in which he held your hand sets your heart ablaze as if it wasn’t already. Had he been telling the truth? You knew the Duke better than most, and with that knowledge you know he wasn’t the type to lie about that, but did he mean it? Could he mean it?

“I’m sorry,” you said.

Wriothesley’s attention remained on the forming boil on your soft skin. He soothed it gently, trying not to give you frost-burn. Thankfully the natural heat of your skin stopped his cryo from hurting you further.

“For what?” he responded softly, bringing your hand up to his lips and breathing out cool frosty air. You felt like mush, and if it weren’t for the dull ache in your hand you would have snatched up the opportunity to run said hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. It always looked so soft and maybe he would allow you to touch it.

You pulled a face between flustered and self-loathing.

“That was one of your expensive teacups,” you managed to choke out.

He continued to blow cool air onto your hand.

“There will be other teacups,” he says, his lips barely an inch from your skin.

You wanted to melt on the spot.

“But—“

He sighed and said your name sternly looking up at you through the haze of dark lashes.

“Why would I worry about a teacup when you are hurt?” he asked and lowered your hand from his lips. “In any case, I should apologise for ruining a perfectly good meeting. If you have said all you need to say then—”

You waved your hands, flabbergasting him as you snatched them from his cool encasing, momentarily forgetting about the burn, and cutting him off mid-speech.

“No, you didn’t,” you yelped.

He half smiled at the scarlet tint of your ears, and taking your burnt hand back into his, he proceeded to gently apply cryo to the festering burn.

“Ah, is that so?” he chuckled. “Alright then, how will you pay me back?”

“Huh?”

“You broke my favourite teacup, after all. So—“ he said your name with a hint of mischief in his smooth voice. “How will you pay me back?”

“That’s not fair!” You straightened in your seat. “How can that be your favourite teacup when they all look the same? Are you just saying that to make me feel worse than I already do?”

He cocked a brow and tugged you forward. You fell into him, your free hand coming to rest on his lower abdominal. Your nose brushed his, and you felt his cool breath against your cheeks. His breathe smelt of spearmint. Your lips twitched and you tried to focus on the scar under his eye (the one you’ve always wanted to trace with the tips of your fingers) so as to not meet his icy blue stare, or to glance down at the obvious smirk on his lips. You wanted to kiss him; you could kiss him; would he let you kiss him?

Wriothesley watched your tongue dart out to swipe across your lips; he wanted to bite it; but he had more control than that. He had an image to uphold. The Duke was supposed to be fair and reasonable; he was supposed to lead by example and be a neutral figure of respect and reverence, not a brute without self-control. He pushed you back gently, hoping beyond hope that in your shock you haven’t noticed how hard he was.

“Kidding, of course,” he drawled.

Anger coloured your face and you punched his shoulder, half seriously. You hissed and shake your still very much wounded hand. You had been duelling partners for a while when you had spent a significant amount of time in the Fortress pretending to be a convict back when you were neither friend nor whatever you were now. He’d only agreed to it at the time because you managed to beat everyone and nearly him.

“You are breathtaking,” he muttered. “Come on let’s get you to Sigewinne.”

He stood and offered you his hand.

Your heart stuttered. Even though you weren’t native to Fontaine you were well-versed in their mother language, but even then, you didn’t believe your ears.

“What?” you asked.

He chuckled again, a deep and hearty sound.

“When will I stop doubting the ears of a seasoned traveler,” he said out loud although it was meant for his ears alone. He must have been mentioning your mutual friend, the blond traveler, and their small pixie pie companion, Paimon. You have been accompanying them on a few commissions and quests here and there, especially through Natlan. Which kept you away from Fontaine for significant periods of time, much to Wriothesley’s silent dismay.

However, he would never keep something so precious away from the light. He tried to keep a pet once—not that you were a pet—but he soon realised that it was wrong to keep something meant to be in the sun away from it. And if he couldn’t do it to a small animal then he definitely couldn’t do that to you. You were a traveller, not even native to Fontaine. Although you have made it clear countless amounts of times that Fontaine is your favourite region; he can’t help but feel like you weren’t meant to be chained to one place. He won’t be your administrator, the fortress won’t be your prison, and he couldn’t imagine keeping you in this cage with him. He refused to, even if his more selfish desires would have you cuffed to his desk where he could gaze upon you forever till you hated him and wished him gone.

“No, I want to talk first,” you said.

“I assure you we can talk after your hand has been seen too.”

“Wriothesley.”

Your tone went straight to his cock. You have never said his name, at least not his face. Even when you’re both around your mutual ‘friends’ you still have only ever called him ‘your grace.’ He wanted to hear you say his name again. He wanted to hear you say his name breathlessly, desperately, whilst you crumbled into each other. He cleared his throat and walked across his office hoping that the distance would stop you from noticing the obvious tent in trousers. He fiddled with the cuffs on his hips to distract himself and pulled at his tie.

“You really should go…to Sigewinne,” he said.

You approached him. He turned away from you facing a bookshelf. You brushed your fingertips to his forearm feeling the chilling aura around his skin. You expected him to pull away, for him to stop you from going past the point of no return, but he didn’t.

“Wriothesley,” you said his name again, this time with a wistful air. You don’t even realise you’re saying it. You never said it; not to him, only to the crisp cold darkness when your back arched on your sheets late into the night.

“Say it again,” he said.

“What?”

“My name. Say it again.”

Your eyes widened as you realised your mistake. You have always tried not to say his name to separate your lustful fantasies from the real man.

He faced you, capturing your gaze and with it your heart too in his glacial eyes that looked so warm. “Please.”

You couldn’t help but obey. His name slipped out in a hushed prayer: “Wriothesley.”

In turn, he said yours; just as quiet, just as wanting.

“You really should go to Sigewinne,” he said and ghosts his thumb along your jaw.

“What if I don’t want to?” you stepped closer. “What if I want to stay right here?”

His expression darkened.

“You shouldn’t,” he said with no bite behind it.

You didn’t budge.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, sounding way more desperate than you intended. Before you could cringe at yourself, he had you caged in his arms, mouth cold against yours. He groaned when you bit down on this bottom lip, and for the first time, you felt his thick erection brush against your stomach.

None of your wildest fantasies could compare to the reality of kissing Wriothesley and any pain in your hand disappeared altogether. He kissed you like you’re the only thing tethering him to the earth; like you were his last gulp of air before he dissolved into primordial water.

He tugged on your shirt.

“If you don’t take this thing off right now I’m going to rip it,” he said, his breath laboured.

You reached under your shirt, and he helped you slip it over your head. He threw it away and pulled you into another kiss. His hand wrapped in your hair.

You took off his tie and his waistcoat, his usual fur coat was already draped on the back of his large red chair. He stopped you unbuttoning his shirt, shaking his head, trailing kisses along your jaw, and down your neck as he walked you backwards to his desk. He unclasped your bra. He watched it slide down your arms and then tossed it somewhere that was going to be your future you’s problem.

“Up,” he ordered.

You jumped up, wrapping your arms around his neck. He grasped the underside of your thighs and placed you down on the free space of his grand desk.

He bit your shoulder, and you moaned out his name in a way that had him almost feral. He lapped at the wound and kissed it. You threw your head back biting down on your lip. He continued leaving kisses and nibbles along your collarbone, slowly lowering until your breasts were under his hungry gaze. You suddenly felt nervous. You wouldn’t say you were insecure in your looks. You knew that your looks were something to behold and of which you were very proud. They’ve come in handy in your many jobs as many times as they have caused unnecessary issues but being under the watchful gaze of Wriothesley felt different… intimate. You tried to bring your hands up to cover yourself. Wriothesley caught your wrists, looking up at you from his crouched position.

“Don’t you dare. You’re beautiful.”

“Wriothesley,” you said.

“If you aren’t comfortable, we can stop,” he assured you, although the words pained him and his dick, consent was king—always. If you weren’t comfortable, he could always sort himself out later. You were the most important thing to him. He let go of your wrists and you dropped them, letting him feast his eyes on your breasts.

“Don’t stop. Please.”

“Are you sure?” he asked again.

“Yes.”

“If you change your mind, just tell me and we’ll stop,” he said. “Give me a safe word.”

“Cake,” you instantly responded.

“Cake?” He cocked a brow. “Cake, it is.”

Without a moment spared, he grasped your breasts and planted a kiss there, dragging his lips over your nipples in a way that made you shiver. He smiled to himself at the occasional whimpers that left you; even more pleased that he was the one causing them.

“I love the noises you make. I love your voice. I’m obsessed with it. I wish to capture it and listen to it whenever you’re away,” he groaned.

He dragged his tongue down, further, and further until he was on his knees, he pushed up your skirt that had been bothering him since you crossed your gorgeous legs earlier. He was tempted to have you keep it on when he fucked you, for no other reason than the thought that the next time you decided to wear that poor excuse of a skirt he knew all you would be able to think about was how he messed you up in it. The thought brought him immense pleasure.

 He slid his hands into your shorts, squeezing your thighs. The flimsy piece of black material and whatever surprise underwear beneath it were the only things keeping him from what he wanted. He wanted to taste you. He wanted to feel how you’ll curl on his tongue; he wanted to feel you gripping his hair and screaming his name as he brought you to a high only he could give you.

“These damn shorts,” he grumbled.

“I climb mountains. How else am I going to keep myself comfortable?” you asked.

He tutted and tore them open; the fabric did not put up much of a fight at all.

“I guess you won’t be climbing mountains anytime soon,” he said guiding the torn fabric down your legs.

“Those were my favourites, you brute.”

He winked up at you.

“Ah, I suppose that makes us even,” he drawled.

Was he thinking about that damn teacup right now?

“How are you?” He said, checking in on you.

“Good.”

He smiled and your heart melted a little.

He froze when he took in the sight of your lingerie.

“Were you thinking of me when you bought these?”

“Don’t get too cocky,” you said.

“Too late.”

You bit your lip. It hadn’t been intentional, your underwear matching the colour of his eyes. He trailed his nose up the soaked fabric brushing your clit. You grabbed his hair at the stimulation. You felt the beginnings of the scruff threatening to break out of his chin tickling you as he guided your lingerie aside and gave your clit an ardent lick. Wriothesley wasn’t big on savoury treats, but you weren’t savoury, you tasted like you, and you were fast becoming his favourite dessert.

“You taste divine,” he said.

“Oh Archons,” you muttered.

“They won’t hear you down here,” he said.

It didn’t take long before your toes were curling, and you were chanting his name. Wriothesley gripped your thigh with one hand and fingered you with the other, stretching you out in preparation for him; because if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that you were going to cum around him. He was going to feel the way you would clench around him; he was going to watch your blissed-out face twist as he fucked you hard into his desk. Although he would love to feel you climax on his face there would be time for that. He’d be damned if this was the first and only time he had you. You were his. Morals and reputation be damned, he wanted—no, needed to be inside you. He didn’t care if the entirety of Meropide could hear you; in fact, he got off on the thought.

Just when you felt like you were about to climax, he pulled away and licked his lips. You glared at him as he stood and bent over you kissing you softer than before. You could taste yourself on his lips, and instead of it turning you off it spurred you on. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, grinding against his clothed erection.

“Do you trust me?” he asked between heated kisses.

Everything felt wet like you both were melting, and you probably were. If so, you didn’t care, becoming water wasn’t half bad if it was with him. You heard his cuffs before you saw them spinning around the two fingers that had been inside you.

“Right now, no,” you lied.

He half smiled.

“I suppose I deserve that. I guess I’ll just have to persuade you then.”

You untangled from around him. He stepped back unbuttoning his shirt and revealing lean scar-littered skin. You wanted to reach out and so you did, tracing the long jagged discoloured scars, slightly keloid. Some looked fresher than others. He shivered and breathed out a low groan when you grazed over his nipple. He raised his signature cuffs.

“Give me your wrists,” he said.

It clinked when it secured around both wrists. The spiked metal looked so beautiful against your skin; he was almost tempted to throw away the key.

“Oh no, you’ve caught me, your grace,” you teased. Something you shouldn’t have done because the way he looked at you after told you that you had triggered something in him.

“You did break my favourite teacup after all,” he said.

“I thought we were even.”

You watched him slowly unbuckle his belt and step between your legs. There would be time for savouring the moment later, many moments if he could help it but not then. You felt his erection only covered by the thin fabric of his boxers press against your vagina, he leans over you caging you between his arms and the desk.

“Indeed, we are for breaking.” He nibbled on your ear, “but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. That was an expensive cup you know some flimsy shorts won’t cover the costs. You should know I only play fair, and you got some of the tea on my freshly shined boots.”

Your cuffed hands resting on your stomach fiddled with the lining of his boxers. You lost your breath when he nuzzled into the base of your neck.

“Don’t tease me,” he grunted.

You manage to slip his cock out.

“Says the man who denied me my orgasm.”

You felt his smile on your neck.

He rubbed his cock along your folds but didn’t push in. He wanted to be sure that you’re sure.

“I don’t think friends do this,” he said as he continued to edge your hole.

“Just fuck me already,” you sassed.

He thrust into you, filling you completely. He was thicker than you expected, thicker than you had had before. You couldn’t be more thankful for the earlier foreplay because without it he wouldn’t have fit. He remained still for a while, and you slowly adjusted to his size. The dull ache of the intrusion quickly turned from discomfort to bliss.

“Wriothesley.”

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he breathed. “Don’t stop saying my name.”

You didn’t.

“Good girl,” he said.

The desk jutted, the papers shook, and books slid off the desk smacking the floor in their wake, but the sound was lost to you both. Despite his strong persona, and much to your delight, he didn’t hold back his occasional whimpers, and grunts. The sound blessed your ears like a symphony. Sometime after your first orgasm, he took off the cuffs and threw them to his settee.

He left the occasional bites and kisses on the underside of your jaw, and down to your breasts. You, in turn, added to the long scars down his back, your nails clawing into the flesh. He would treasure those when they scarred.

You guided his face up from your neck, where he had been breathing you in as if he couldn’t get enough of you into his system. In truth, he couldn’t. You kissed him deeply, filling it with all the words you hadn’t yet been able to say. You felt your third climax on the horizon as he hit the same spot that made your back arch.

“Wriothesley,” you said against his mouth. “There.”

He chased your lips.

“That’s it,” he said, rolling his hips. He slipped a hand between your rocking bodies and rubbed your swollen clit. You let out a needy moan.

 “I’ve got you,” he said as you clenched around him.

Your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave of primordial water. He held you to him, as he continued to thrust towards his own high, encasing you in his arms.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he groaned.

 Wriothesley felt like he was on cloud nine. Being with you was entirely different from what he imagined in the best way possible. It felt like a dream having you here, in his arms, pliant to his every desire. In each kiss, he pretended that you felt the same way; that you wanted the same things. He pretended that this moment wasn’t just a moment but forever—because he wanted you forever.

He slowed down prolonging the experience and straightened up looking down at the fucked-out expression on your face. He knew he didn’t look any better. Swiping a hand through his hair, he continued to roll his hip slowly. He placed a hand on your pelvis steadying you. Your body was covered in a sheen of sweat which glistened under the light of the office. He felt like he was melting into you—like you were melting into each other.

“Can I?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered opening your arms for him, beckoning him home. And truly, to him, you felt like home.

He pushed his damp hair back once again, before leaning over you. With a final grunt and a spam of your walls around him, he came. He didn’t pull out right away, wrapping his arms around you as if afraid to let go.

Your thighs were sticky from your combined releases, and your body felt like it had been sitting in a sauna for hours but seeing the rare, satisfied look on his face made it all worth it. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“You owe me new shorts,” you said.

“I’ll buy you as many shorts as your heart desires,” he uttered, tiredly.

“Really?”

He hummed and nodded slowly.

“Good because I think I’m going to need a lot of them if you’re going to rip them off every time,” you said causing him to perk up. “You know to repay for the teacup.”

“Oh?”

“Unless this was a one-time thing then—“you hesitated.

He kissed you again, unable to hide his smile.

“Next time let’s use my bed.”

“I’d like that,” you said.

He tried to intertwine your hands, but you winced when he brushed against the forming boil.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and to Sigewinne, for real this time.”

“First, can we have a cup of tea?” you asked.

He laughed. Of course, you wanted to have tea. He could do with some tea too; he was famished after all. He laid a kiss on your forehead and made a mental note to send Clorinde an extra box of his finest tea.

“Of course, first let's clean up and then we'll have tea. I promise, but don’t spill it this time.”

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[eeunoia]

ENHYPEN Series

sinag | psh.

chapter ten

pairings: park sunghoon x reader

synopsis: waiting for a great plot twist in your life, the ruthless and powerful mafia boss park sunghoon forced his way in to it.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: contains harrassment, violence, guns, killings, abuse, obsessive love & other stuff. if you can't take this stuff, feel free to scroll away. let me know if i missed some.

note: there’s a slight change from the original one shot. anyway, please send me asks and reblogs are highly recommended! thank you so much, ily.

eeunoia 2024 © all rights reserved.

“We found these inside her suite room, Boss.”

Sunghoon rests his liqour over the small table near him then pressed his lit cigarette at the ash tray. His toned muscle flex at his every move. He reaches over the small card Icarus was handing him.

With brows furrowing downward, he silently read the printed name of the company you seem to work at. He didn’t utter a word and just plays with it, falling deep into his own thoughts. The name of the place you’re currently employed in rings a bell. A bit familiar. Like he heard it before.

“We also managed to gather some of her personal belongings.” his eyes darts lazily at the things he laid over the table.

Some identifaction cards and also your passport. He licked his lower lip and stretches his arm to grab your passport. He opens it, revealing your information to him. Your name, birthday, nationality... everything.

“You may take your leave. Make sure there are men guarding her floor.” he instructed without sparing a glance to him. He saw him bowing from his peripheral before he take his leave.

The cold breeze blew towards Sunghoon, making his slightly long hair sways beautifully along with it. His eyes are fixed at your picture and his thumb gently caress it, a ghost of smile spreading across his face.

“Aelia...” he mumbled your name for the very first time. “My Aelia.” he added afterwards.

He tilts his head and clenches his jaw hard before fishing his phone from his pocket.

“Brother! I figured you’ll give me a ring sooner or later.” Jake’s voice hints teasing from it.

“You...” he starts, but halts his words.

Sunghoon couldn’t make out his emotions properly. He’s feeling so pissed for his friend keeping something very important to him, but at the same time still overwhelmingly happy after finding you.

“Well,” he can almost hear his smirk from the other line. “did you like my gift for you?”

He threw his head back then heaved a sigh.

“Since when?” he shortly replied, wanting to know more about this sneaky move his friend just pulled. He should’ve known something’s up from how his friend’s been so weird.

“Ever since I tried to sell the company to you.”

Another big and heavy sigh emits from Sunghoon after he realized how long was that. He almost lose his mind searching for you and all this time, his friend knew where you are. He felt betrayed, but a part of him are relieved to know that you are safe.

He flutters his eyes open, brows furrowing hardly at the realization.

“You sold it to me for 10 million? Do you fucking think she’s worth just that?” he seemed insulted like as if he was the one being priced and sold at a lower price. Not that he really sell you, its practically the company but Sunghoon’s being very dramatic.

Jake chuckles finding it hilarious how he didn’t even got mad at him for selling it at a very expensive price. He got offended for taking the interpretation that you only worth that price.

“Dude, I asked for that so I can take care of your girl while you’re busy taking care of some other things.” he finally explains. It made him more calmer, his jaw’s still hardly clenched but at least the idea of beating the shit out of his friend starts to subside.

“Meaning all these time, its you and your money whose taking good care of her. She’s living comfortably thanks to your resources.” he sounded like he’s trying to convince a kid and tricked him into believing that Santa is real.

Sunghoon fell silent, trying to sink Jake’s words inside his mind. He did a good job on revisioning the company and even made it perform well. He’s been updating him about the status of it even though he doesn’t really give much care of it as he was pretty focused on putting the Kwon’s down.

All this time, its not just the company. It was his way of letting him know that his girl is okay and living pretty well.

He draws in a big sigh, totally calmer than before.

“Thank you.”

Jake’s the one silent this time. He was expecting him to appreciate his effort, but not to this extent. He was expecting an earful of curses and death threats from him, but instead this is what he got.

He was amused. Beyond amused how you’ve already started to affect him. He lets out a scoff, couldn’t believe that you have this effect on him. It was just a hunch that you indeed have the potential to soften and tame the monster, but you are powerful. You have this power over him.

“The fuck? Not even a day of meeting her and you’re already under her spell? Who are you? Where’s the real Sunghoon? The real one would’ve cursed me out and will be super pissed at me.”

Sunghoon smirks and rests over the railings of the balcony. His eyes settles beneath the quiet road, it was almost empty as its already three in the morning.

“I am pissed at you.” his stern tone makes it obvious how he means.

“But since you kept her safe 'til this day, I’ll let you go.”

Jake smirks, “Even if your meet up is a little set up?”

“What’s important now is she’s here. She’s really here.” relieve was not the only thing you can hear from his tone. Some are curiosity on what’s about to happen next.

He can think nonstop about the things he wanted to do with you, but first he has to think of how he would explain everything to you. Because from now on, you will live your life with him.

You let out a heavy sigh before grabbing your phone and dialed your boyfriend’s number. Your jaw clenched when you've been directed over to his voice mail. It’s been three days ever since you two talked and you even argued. This is your last night here and so far its so good. Surprisingly nothing bad happened to you, and you don’t want to jinx it at all.

“Hey, Luke.” you said after the beep to leave him yet another voice mail. You didn't know how many you left already but still, you decided to do it again.

“I know you're upset baby. Please let’s talk once I get back there, hm? I love you.” you mumbled and ended it.

You grabbed your coat and key card of your hotel room. It was stressing you out so you wanted to get some fresh air to relieve some stress. It was already late which makes it a bit scary, especially that you're in another city. But you knew you needed some for tonight.

You breath in the fresh air you thought you’ve been needing for a while. You tried smiling as you watch the stars above you shines brightly. You were enjoying your time without even realizing what’s about to unfold.

After finally calming down and clearing your mind out, you decided to head back to your hotel.

On your way, you had this weird feeling that you're being followed. Your heart started thumping fast, specially that there are less people around this area. Terrified that someone really is stalking you, you hurried your steps.

But even before your can reach back to your hotel, you felt a strong grip over your arm. Your heart sank as you open your mouth to shout only to be covered by your captor. He held you firmly then covered your nose with a handkerchief making your eyes grew big and you tried to get away from their grip but it was too late.

The last thing you remember is how you slowly lose your strength, knees falling weakly. The person held you close to him and even whispered things you couldn’t understand as you lost consciousness. In the end, you felt them carrying you.

Sunghoon smiles as he stared down at your unconscious body over his arms. His men opened his car door for him and he puts you inside carefully.

“Have you prepared the hotel room I asked you?” he asks Icarus as he checks if your position inside his vehicle is okay.

“Yes, boss.”

He nods and Sunghoon walks around towards the driver’s seat. He glanced at your side before smiling again, reaching over your face to gently brush away the hairs covering it.

At the arrival to the hotel, Sunghoon parked his sports car right in front while his men's vehicle surrounds his for protection. The staffs of the hotel hurries themselves to stand right in front of it to welcome him. They've been informed about the vip that will stay at the top floor of the hotel, and after knowing its Park Sunghoon they couldn't help but to feel nervous.

After-all, he’s known for his bad temper.

“Welcome Mr. P-Park.” the head of the hotel stutters as he bows along with his staffs.

Sunghoon didn’t pay much attention to them as he asks for his room card. Some of the staff noticed him carrying your unconscious body, tears on the sides of your eyes. Just by the looks of it, they knew you didn’t come here voluntarily.

None of them asked anything about you, nobody even dared to look at your direction longer than fiver seconds.

The moment he managed to get the keys to your room, Sunghoon struts towards the elevator along with Icarus and some of his men.

“Should we tie her hands?” Icarus asks.

Sunghoon’s eyes darted at your wrist. His assistant is already getting ready to tie her when he stopped him.

“No. I don’t want it hurting her wrists.” he says too softly and then sat at the side of the bed to look at your sleeping state.

He wiped off the tears at the corner of your eyes and using his thumb, he caress your cheeks.

“My love, you are finally here with me.” he whispers.

He sighs, “You are so beautiful.” and he roams his eyes over your pretty face. He’s still in trance. Despite being able to hold you and touch you like this, sometimes he still can’t help but to think that he is dreaming.

Scared that this are just his illusions, he somewhat wished not to wake up from this. If it means he will be with you, he don’t want to leave. He wants to be where you are and where he can have you like this.

“Sir, Mr. Sim called saying he needs to discuss something with you.” he sighs and nods his head before standing up.

“Leave some of our men inside the room incase she tries to escape or do something that can hurt her.” he reminds his men before leaving the room.

With a low grunt, you slowly opened your eyes only to be greeted by an unfamiliar room. Your head aches in attempt to recover memories from last night. It was just then you remembered that you were abducted.

Fear spread across your chest as you roamed your eyes around, sitting up from the bed. There are men wearing familiar suits. You’ve seen it before, you just don’t have any idea where.

“W-Where am I? Who are you?!” you asked frantically and tears spreads across your face.

Even when you are crying, they seem to don't mind. They are just standing at the corners of the room, two by the door.

You don’t know how many hours that you’re passed out, but you knew its been a while. Your throat felt dry from crying and screaming. One of them did offered water, but you refused. You’re afraid that they put something in it.

The fact that this is happening on your last day of the trip makes you go crazy. Nothing good really happens whenever you go out of the country. Everything seems to be find until you got abducted by these people. This time, you think this will really be the end of your life.

Dark thoughts starts to occupy your mind. Will they kill you and sell your organs to the black market? Probably. Or put you into slavery. That’s just so awful. A lot of bad scenarious flashes through your mind and it was making you feel much terrible.

The door then burst open, making you jolt a bit. Soon, a man walks inside. His eyes looked at your way and he bows politely which caught you off-guard. The other guys around seems to look up on him so you assumed he have more power than them, so why is he bowing at you?

“The boss will see you in a bit.” Icarus said, informing you about Sunghoon’s plan to visit you.

The boss? Your brows furrows hardly at his statement, but kept your mouth shut. Tears still pool your eyes, cries a little more silent than before. If he isn’t the boss, you can still try to convince him to let you go. You can beg him. Tell him that your you have terrible health so your organs won’t sell good.

“Please let me go.” you begged him softly, eyes glistening with so much emotion.

Icarus stared at you with blank look over his eyes. He sighs and glanced away, trying to talk to some of the men reminding them of what to do next once the boss arrives.

Your heart fell. He didn’t even say anything or even talked to you.

Not long after, you heard the door opening and it revealed some ethereal looking guy. His hair was brushed up and it looked so soft, his face blank and seems like he’s the one in-charge. So much power he holds just by walking inside the room.

You can’t properly describe it. He just have this aura. He’s wearing a suit that perfectly fits him, showing off his model like proportions. It feels so illegal to see him walking here and not on runways.

Both of your eyes met and you are a bit taken aback because he’s very good-looking! His skin was fairly white and his features were beautiful altogether. He’s very intimidating too.

“Did you hurt her?” his voice ringed inside your head. He was asking the guys around but his eyes never left yours.

You gulped and even if you’re feeling very scared and intimidated, you raised your chin up and stared back at him. You glared and clenched your jaw to keep them from shaking.

“No, boss.” one of them answered. As expected, he is the one in-charge.

He nodded and slowly walked closer to you. If he’s good-looking from afar, he’s breath-taking up close. He looked so handsome and intimidating at the same time. Those moles all over his face sure add some charms in him.

“I’ve been searching the whole world for you, love.” He softly mumbled before he raised his hand to caress your cheeks carefully like as if you’re something so fragile.

Something about his caress lit something inside your stomach go crazy. It was definitely wrong because he was the one who abducted you and he’s probably a bad guy. Not to mention that you have a boyfriend but for some reasons, you cannot help it. There’s something about his gentle touch and his staring expressive eyes.

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[yikes-kachowski]

Hiii! I dropped by on accident and found out your avatar headcanons and OCs so so nice

I gotta ask a few curiosities of mine if that's cool? *takes out a notebook and a pen*

- since katara and zuko are a thing, did it make their friendship with aang weird or was he cool with it instantly? And how did it even began for them? Did it followed the show's events? Did Aang even got a crush on Katara?

- What happens to Azula?

- How does all these next gen kids react when Korra shows up? Is it weird, is it fine, is it all the same? I mean, they all knew the previous avatar and he was pretty much their family and all. Tho I think them having their own lives also mean it's not that much of a deal?

- Is Katara still one of Korra's teaching masters?

- Sokka's kids get along?

- Does Tenzin and Bumi eventually get okay with each other?

- Korra still loses her connection to the past avatars and therefore Aang? Do they even talk, like he did to Roku and all?

- do you have any other headcanon or change of other characters from tlok or tloa that you mind sharing? like, a plot from tlok that you think it could be better improved or discarded, or something that happens on your universe and you haven't talked about yet?

Sorry for this such a big of an ask, i really REALLY liked these ideas you had (and your art is also amazing and so awesome and pretty too 💞).

heyyyy anon! sorry for the late reply, i hope you still see this.

First of all, thank you! I love genuine interest in my stuff I never expect it. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy and clever. ALSO thanks for complimenting my art! i'm a slow artist so my blood sweat and tears (mostly tears) are in every drawing !!!

onto answering your questions to the best of my ability:

1) Aang is completely cool with Katara and Zuko's relationship. He's basically their biggest shipper :) He did have a crush on Katara (and Zuko tbh), but he was able to let it go pretty quickly. As the Avatar, after the war he was almost too busy to even be sad about it. Overwhelmingly, he was just happy for his friends

Also, Katara and Zuko get together after the war, when Katara's about 17 and he's about 19. Katara goes to the South Pole and they fall for each other through letters and short visits.

Most show events aren't really taken out for me. Just really the kiss right at the end.

2) Azula has a redemption arc. I like to think of it as being a redemption arc she herself is hardly aware of. She just thinks she's really in the long haul of fooling the gaang into liking her. Her redemption arc starts immediately after the war because Zuko keeps her safe in the palace.

Aang becomes her friend first and encourages everyone else to give her a chance. Sokka provides an outlet for all of her older brother issues, since she and Zuko have an awkward relationship. And Katara is tutored by Azula in Fire Nation etiquette and history so she's better equipped to be Fire Lady.

sorry if this is confusing, but believe it or not this rambling all makes sense to me.

3) Korra is very important to the next gen kids, aang's kids and the zk especially. Her arrival is in the middle of great political conflict that never would have happened if Aang wasn't murdered, so they're eager to get her in on the Avatar business.

My idea with Aang dying so young, is that all of his business is half finished. His kids didn't get real closure for their relationship. So Bumi, Yelaan, Palkyi and Tenzin all have complex feelings toward her. Bumi's in particular are very intense.

Being around Korra FEELS like being in his father's presence, which is hard for him. He doesn't want aang to have been a good person or a good father because then he'd really have to miss and mourn everything he was gone for. but this is a lot and hard for me to say so

the steambabies also need Korra and consider her central. They watched their parents' reactions when Aang died (particularly Zuko), and that has affected them deeply. Sakari has been advised to always follow the avatar, so she's happy to have guidance. Besides, she hopes the Avatar will restore and era of peace since she worries for Bumi and Akiak.

Akiak has changed since Aang died, a lot. In ways he's not always proud of. Facing Korra is somewhat hard for him for that reason. Especially since sometimes she opposes some of his methods. He thinks her way of bringing peace is naive.

Tophs kids (and Tenzin to some extent) are the same :)

4) Yes! Katara is one of her waterbending masters. I feel like when you're an Avatar's Master, that's your role for life. She already knows how to train the Avatar. She, Zuko, and Toph taught Korra in the right order, and are old friends with her. Korra has already met the whole Gaang even if she doesn't see Toph or Zuko as often as she'd like

5) I usually choose not to give Sokka kids. I feel like he doesn't want to be a father (even though he'd definitely be the best at it). He and Suki work too hard and have agreed they just aren't super interested in kids. He and Suki are full time Aunt and Uncle to all of the Next Gen. Now, ive made some OCs for asks and I'd say that they do get along :)

6) Bumi and Tenzin's relationship is ROUGH in this story, but yes, they do. It takes a while but eventually they're only mildly hostile with each other. Tenzin helps Bumi reconnect with Air Nomad culture, and Bumi helps him commune with the spirits better. This is jumpstarted by Korra.

7) Korra does keep communication with her past lives! But her path to being a fully realized Avatar is much more difficult. The decision to raise her in a compound was a mistake, and so her growth as an avatar is severely set back. This means, she speaks to her past lives when they reach out to her (and she's in tune enough to listen). Aang is not easy for her to talk to, but eventually she masters it. She doesn't really tell anyone because she's scared everyone will then only want to talk to aang, not her.

8) First of all: for atla, i write very particular cultures and geographies to expand the universe. They affect things in only minor ways for the most part in atla. Also, Aang is trans. I love it too much for it to not be true (if youre wondering how he had kids he made deals with spirits)

Now for tlok. In my opinion, it's very necessary for the different conflicts to not have clear starts and ends. These should all be interweaving conflicts that everyone's caught in the middle of. Not only does this facilitate a lot more character interactions, but it also builds stress and feels realistic.

Mako and Bolin are former triad members and pro athletes, they should be rougher around the edges. Also, Mako would NEVER EVER become a cop after seeing the direct damage they cause marginalized communities. I think that perspective would be very important for korra as an avatar.

Season two plotlines should just be a civil war between north and south. Tbh, I'm not digging all of the subtle ways the north takes over the south, and I imagine the south isn't either. They separated from the north for a reason, and then during the war, the north didn't even help them. The tensions were rising and Aang never came up with a good long term solution when he was alive, and that affects Korra.

Season three's plotline can mostly stay the same except there is no harmonic convergence that introduces new airbenders. The airbenders are the group that they are. They're travelling the earth kingdoms doing peace talks since much of the earth kingdoms don't want to be under ba sing se. Particularly the Si Wong Desert. Aang was in active peace talks when died and was never able to come up with a long term solution.

Season four is also mostly the same except no mechs or spirit nukes.

All the while the equalists are raging on at home.

ANYWAY. thanks for the ask! I hope you see this after i posted it SOOOO late.

See the pattern? Korra must fill aang's shoes while also dealing with all of his unfinished business. Every character serves a unique perspective that helps inform korras decisions.

I dont think these ideas are perfect and the only way to write Korra, but I think they make sense. They help tell a story Im more interested in.

[spicy-picklez]

Rainbow after a Storm (P4)

Includes:

Mention of blood, rape, and self harm.

Characters:

Larissa Weems x female reader (principal x student)

Summary:

Larissa and Y/N’s relationship continues to evolve, getting bolder with each conversation. However another accident ends up with you in a place you didn’t want to be.

Word Count:

3.2k

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As soon as you shut the door to Larissa’s office, you collapse against the corridor walls. You can feel your heart beating through your chest, hot with desire for her. You have no idea what brought on your sudden boldness, but it was worth it for the heavenly moan she let out, making your knees weak.

Regaining your shaking breath, you head back down to the library. Spotting Ajax in the same corner, you quickly slide into the seat next to him. “Y/N!” He exclaims in shock. “Shhhhh!” I say, looking over at Ms Thornhill who thankfully didn’t notice, still busy perusing books in the aisles. “Sorry, what the fuck’s going on Y/N? One minute I’m seeing you in class on Tuesday, happy as Larry. Next you’ve got a bandaged arm, haven’t been in class since Wednesday, moved out of your old dorm and what was all the ‘back’ to Principal Weems’ room about?” Ajax, puts his hand over yours comfortingly. “Y/N, I’m not mad, just really fucking concerned. Whats going on?”

“I was in Jericho on Wednesday when I got raped, when I got back to my dorm, Wednesday was out with Enid so I had the place to myself. I only wanted to hurt myself, because I blame myself for the rape happening again. But I lost control. Next thing I know I’m passing out from blood loss on the floor of my dorm, Lari- sorry, Principal Weems, found me and took me to the hospital. She didn’t feel safe letting me stay in my old dorm especially since she couldn’t ask Wednesday who’s already balancing school life, writing and spending time with Enid, to look after me. So I moved into her room.”

“Sorry rape? Again? Her room?” His head swirling with so many questions. “Yes, I got raped, I knew the guy who raped me. He was the one who raped me for the first time at 7 years old. Her room being Principal Weems’. Which is why I do keep slipping up and calling her Larissa because we agreed first name basis since I’m fully living in her room.” He nods slowly, trying to process the information.

“Righhhhht… so… My dear friend got raped in Jericho by the same person who did it to her when she was 7, self harms and nearly kills herself and now she’s living with our principal… totally normal.” You share a chuckle with him.

“Definitely not normal but yeah nice way of summing it all up.” Glancing down at your phone, 11.56am. “Shit! Larissa’s gonna kill me.” You say, aggressively standing up from your chair and bolting out of the library, finally alerting Ms Thornhill to your presence.

“MISS Y/L/N!” She yells after you as you sprint down the halls. God, why was the library so far away? It begins to get overwhelmingly hot and you rip your jacket off, not realising the zip getting caught on your arm. Wrapping it around your waist, you keep on running both to her office and out of breath. Reaching Larissa’s door, you open it, bolting through. 11.59am. “I made it.” Leaning back against the door, you grin, heavily breathing. You give her a thumbs up with your arm, a sharp electric shock pain emitting from your wounds as you do. Thats when you notice the blood stains seeping through the fabric. “Oh shit.”

Larissa is speechless, one minute mindlessly scrolling through unimportant emails, the next the door banging open to reveal you breathless and bleeding. Her mouth gapes open in shock. Though, she did have to give you props- you were back before 12. A chuckle escapes her as she stands up, walking over to you. “Good girl for making it on time… how about we go clean your arm up though because that doesn’t look particularly nice.” She says, referring to the fact your free hand is held underneath your arm, collecting drips of blood. You weren’t overly listening, you got a bit distracted by her first two words. Good girl… you can feel your legs already shaking. What you didn’t know was that she could too. She smirks, well aware you were blanking out.

“Y/N?” Shit, you just spaced out while staring at her tits.

“Hmm? Oh- yeah… not sure if blood dripping through bandages is too great.” You chuckle, as she looks at you with an unimpressed look, raising an eyebrow.

“Not funny darling. We may need to take you back to the hospital.” She says as she places her hands on your hips, guiding you through to your room to grab her keys. The hands on your hips, the darling… oh shit, you can feel yourself hot with desire as you struggle to keep upright. Leaning forward, she whispers in your ear. “Oh darling… are you that desperate for me that you’re almost falling over just from my words?”

You smirk. “Oh and the heavenly moan you let out yesterday just from me saying your name isn’t you being desperate?” She didn’t say anything. “Hmm? Larissa?” You continue, your voice deep and seductive. She stops, wrapping her arms around you, rubbing her face in the crook of your neck.

“Y/N darling…” Her voice coming out in a desperate sigh. Swallowing deeply, she guides you forwards again. “Let’s get your arm tended to at the hospital because this bleeding isn’t stopping. And then we’ll see if my self control is any better because right now the temptation to claim you as my own is growing unbearably strong.”

These words cause you to take a sharp breath. ‘Calm down Y/N.” You repeat in your head, over and over again, trying to ignore the throbbing heat from in between your legs. Getting to the door, she slips past you. “Wait here darling.” You lean against the doorframe as she grabs her purse hanging from the arm of the couch.

Walking back over to you, she takes off her jacket, handing it to you. “Put it on, it’ll stop people asking questions about your arm.” You reluctantly take it, looking up at her. “Its white, incase you haven’t noticed, I’m dripping red blood. Also don’t you think it’ll be a bit suspicious that I’m wearing your jacket?”

“I can get another jacket and I’d rather deal with that then people stopping us asking why you’re dripping blood and I’m sure you wouldn’t want that either. So put the damn thing on and lets go before you bleed to death again.” She says, helping you slip into it before opening the door, letting you walk through. Shutting it behind her, she takes off at a brisk pace, her long legs allowing her to cover ground quickly. You adjust your stride to fit hers as you hurriedly walk to the car.

As you reach her car, she walks ahead, unlocking the door and holding it open for you. As she gets in her side, you chuckle. “Larissa, you know I can open my own doors right?” She starts the car, placing her hand on your knee. “Yes but I’d rather you not. In case you’ve forgotten you are still heavily bleeding, I’d rather not have you die from blood loss in front of me again.” She gives your knee a comforting squeeze, not too sure which of us needed it more.

“Hold on, die? Again? The doctors said I just passed out?” You look at her, confused. In response, she shakes her head. “You died, Y/N. I’m terrified that that’s going to happen. I was terrified enough before… before whatever the fuck you’ve done to me. I’m not losing you Y/N.”

“Riss, I promise you won’t have to. I let myself give up the other day because I didn’t believe that anyone cared about me enough to be affected if I died. I realise now at least you do. I’m not giving up Riss. Not this time.” You place your hand over hers as she says this. “Though you can stop almost flying off the road at most corners. If you insist on going 150km/h, do you want to at least let me drive?”

She looks at you raising an eyebrow. “You’d better shut your mouth before I put you in your place.” You can’t help the smirk pulling at your lips. “And what, my dear, makes you think you could?” The car violently swerves as you say this, making you chuckle. She mutters something intelligible under her breath, readjusting her position in her seat.

A smile spreads across your face as she makes no further comment on your previous statement. Pulling into the hospital carpark, she quickly grabs her things as you both exit the car. “Y/N, stop using your arm.”

You look down, noticing a red stain slowly seeping through her jacket. A nervous laugh escapes you. “Why… is it still bleeding?”

She looks over and lets out a “fuck” under her breath, seeing the first of many drops of blood dripping from her coat. “Let’s go. Now.” She quickens her pace, entering the emergency room a good 10 metres ahead of you. By the time you catch up, the triage nurse is already looking at your arm in shock.

“Jesus fuck Riss, what did you tell her?” You awkwardly say as you’re rushed through the doors and into a room. Taking a seat on the bed, Larissa helps you get your jacket off as a doctor enters the room. “The truth. You had a few wounds restitched the other day and now you’ve bled through 3 bandages and a jacket in the past day and a half.”

“Well when you put it like that it sounds horrific.” You say, wincing as the doctor roughly unwraps the bandages. “Hey, you know you can be a bit gentler with that aye?”

“Sorry about this but you have lost an unusual amount of blood in not a lot of time and this bleeding isn’t stopping. We need to check what’s gone wrong.” The doctor says, the bandage turning a darker shade of red as he unwraps each layer.

“It sounds horrific because it is Y/N. I’m worried about you.” She says, placing her hand on yours as you watch the doctor unwrap the final layer.

“Holy shit.” The doctor curses as blood actively runs from a gash in your arm onto the floor. A gasp is heard from Larissa as she grasps your hand tighter. “That’s not a good holy shit is it?” You already know the answer, not at all surprised when the doctor shakes his head. He presses the emergency button above your bed. “Not at all.” He grabs a sheet off the bed before looking at Larissa. “I hope your prepared to be here for a while. She’s severed a vein and needs surgery. She already should’ve died from the amount she’s lost.” You feel her tense next to you.

“Riss, I told you. I’ll be ok. Like he said, I should’ve already been dead. Clearly, I have things keeping me alive now. Go back to the school and make sure Wednesday doesn’t kill herself or make sure Ms Thornhill doesn’t shove that tree branch further up her ass.” You say, giving her a comforting hand squeeze and a soft smile.

“Y/N, I told you I’m not going anywhere. The school can manage fine without me for the rest of today. I’m not leaving you.” She says as nurses come running in, hooking you up to IV lines as you’re being wheeled out of the room.

You must admit, you don’t remember much after that. Your minds a blur as you lie in the hospital bed, the beeping machines waking you from the anaesthetic. Slowly opening your eyes, you see the sleeping form of Larissa in a makeshift bed next to you. You grab your phone off of the table. 2.32am. Why the fuck is she not getting sleep back at the school? She has work in a matter of hours. Sitting up, you lean over the bed, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. The contact is enough to wake her, her eyes flying wide open as she realises its you.

“Y/N!” She breathes, standing up to come to your bedside. “Riss, no offense, but you look terrible. Go back to the school and sleep, you have work later.” You say, reaching out to hold her hand. She shakes her head. “I asked the teachers to hold everything together, I mentioned a mishap with a student meant I had to stay in the hospital overnight. It’s all sorted.” You relax a bit hearing this. “Well fuck this. Were going back anyways, I don’t wanna stay here with this stupid shit beeping and a needle in my arm. Where’s my nurse at?” You press the call button as you start pulling up the sticky tape holding your IV in. “Can you grab me a tissue please?”

She stares at you in shock, grabbing the tissue. “Y/N, what in the fuck are you thinking?” You fold the tissue up into a small square, placing it on the point where the needle enters you, sliding it out quickly and pressing the tissue down. “I’m thinking that this bed is uncomfortable, I don’t get cuddles, this beeping is pissing me off, and I hate hospital. I know you’re thinking the same and legally they can’t force me to be here so lets get the fuck outta here.”

The door opens as a nurse walks in. “Oh you’re awake, how are you feeling? Do you need any pain meds?” She asks, coming to your bedside. “Nah I’m great, I just want to go back to school and sleep so could I please have my discharge papers?” The nurse matches Larissa’s previous expression as you say this, staring at you with utter shock and disbelief. “You just got out of surgery, are you sure that’s the best idea?” She stumbles over her words as she says this.

“Well I’m feeling fine and I know I’d heal better in a comfortable bed that’s literally anywhere but here. Also you legally can not keep me here so I wish to have my discharge papers so I can head back.” Larissa’s forehead rests in her hand as she rubs her temples as she says this. Knowing she can’t stop you, she just sighs, the nurse doing the same. “Alright, I’ll go talk to your doctor.”

“Fucking hell Y/N. You’re a fucking brat sometimes you know that?” Larissa sighs, shaking her head. “Oh, I was going for all the time… sorry I’ll up it a bit.”

“Don’t do that. You already have detention with me all next week, brats deserved to be punished.” She says, a cheeky smirk pulling at her lips as her voice drips with seduction.

“I think I can handle it.” Your words earn an amused chuckle from her. “Oh my darling, I know you won’t.” Her eyes glinting with desire and lust for you. You sit up, your faces mere inches a part. “Do your worst.” You lean towards her ear as you whisper this.

It’s at this moment that the nurse returns, a handful of papers in hand. Coming over to your bed, she sighs. “Although I’m sure you won’t take much of this into consideration, the doctor highly suggests you wait at least 24 hours after your surgery till you go home but as we all know you’re not going to do that, we need you to sign these papers to say that if anything happens, it was your decision to leave.”

You nod. “Anything, just get me out of here.” She hands you the pen and papers for you to sign. Mindlessly writing in your signature, the doctor takes one sheet for her and gives you the rest of your papers. “Alright, I wish you both the best, and a speedy recovery Y/N.” Eagerly, you get out of bed, Larissa holding your injured hand so you don’t reopen the wounds like you seem to enjoy doing lately. “Thanks for your help.” Larissa smiles at her as you’re already halfway out the room. Leaving the nurse speechless in the room, you both walk down the hallway.

“You know, you shouldn’t even be coherent right now. Yet you’re literally discharging yourself from hospital, are you sure this is the best idea?” Larissa says skeptically as the hospital doors slide open, the fresh winters night air hitting your face. Both of you, now jacketless, walk closer together, her arm around your shoulders as you head towards the car. “Well from a medical point of view, probably not. But I’m not about spend all night on an uncomfortable hospital bed surrounded by beeping machines and screaming patients in agony. I’d much prefer to be asleep in a comfy bed thank you.” She lets a sigh escape her, unlocking the car as it comes into view. “What am I gonna do with you Y/N?” She opens your door as she asks this.

“Whatever you want, Larissa.” You graze your hand over her cheek as you get into the car, giving her a teasing wink. Shutting the door, she lets out a silent groan. “Don’t tempt me Y/N.” She mutters under her breath, knowing exactly what she’d do to you if you did.

Getting in the car, her hand back on your knee like it was on the drive here. She turns the heater on as she reverses out of the park. The drive back was in a comfortable silence, the two of you humming along to songs as they come on.

Pulling into the school grounds, you take one last moment of warmth as the car comes to a stop. Taking a deep breath, you both exit the car. “Agh fuck me, it’s cold.” You exclaim, smoke exiting your mouth with everything word. Larissa just nods, knowing she very gladly would fuck you, pulling you into her as you walk.

You quietly slip through the doors to the school and walk through the familiar corridors to your room, huddling into Larissa for extra warmth. The minute you enter the office, the both of you dash for the next room, needing the warmth of the fire you left going. As soon as you open the door, you can feel the change in temperature, both of your shivering dying down.

Quickly getting changed, Larissa pulls you into bed with her. Lying in each others warm embrace, you let your legs tangle themselves together. Her hand reaches up to stroke your hair as your head rests on her shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re ok darling.” She murmurs, resting her cheek on your head. You pull yourself closer to her, smiling against her soft skin. “I told you, I’ve got you to fight for. I’m not going anywhere, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“You better not.” She whispers and you hum against her skin. You let your eyes close as her warmth envelopes your body. She smiles as you relax against her skin, your snores echoing from behind her ear. “I can’t lose you Y/N.” She whispers, placing a kiss to your forehead as she pulls you closer, closing her eyes.

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[astralprisms]

For the Tav ask list : I'd love to read about : 11, 20, 22 and 31. I'd also like to ask, since it isn't really included in that post; what did Xa'rok think of Omeluum?

11. What goes through your tav's head when they wake up on the Nautiloid? Are they scared or do they push those feelings aside to focus on escaping? 

In the "if Xa'rok was a companion, here is their questline" document that lives in my brain, you would actually first encounter Xa'rok on the Nautiloid, utterly engrossed and poking around. They would greet you distractedly and if pressed ask you to come back later, as they were busy. They had only ever read about Nautiloids before, never seen one, and never thought they'd get to be on one. They're a little over the moon about it and find everything about it fascinating, but especially the parts of it that respond to their command, or the parts of it that are living, breathing muscle and sinew. If this is what it's like to connect to a Nautiloid only recently tadpoled, what must it be like for the full illithids who command it?

In addition to the ship itself, there are qualith slates (and they can understand them!) and brain terraniums, and a brine pool where the parasites were nurtured. Scientific curiousity far outweighs any fear. They had been uniquely fasincated with illithids most of their life, but their studies had been relegated to corpses and war trophies, this was a whole new world--and an exciting one.

12. Finally, what does your tav feel as the Nautiloid crashes? Are they scared? Are they thinking of a way to survive?

I don't think they scare easy. They would be more focused on surviving -- and perhaps bemoaning the loss of the parts of the ship they hadn't gotten to explore before it started going down. They spent a loooooong time among the wreckage, looking at everything they could find and touch. (And they were very much riding the high of "I got to pilot this thing!" Nevermind the crashing, GALE.)

22. What is your tav's first impression of the other companions? (Astarion, Gale, Karlach, Wyll....)

They met Lae'zel, first, and her introduction brought a mix of wariness and surprised elation. They hadn't seen another gith since their exile, a decade and some years earlier. But the parting words of their kin at the creche lay heavy in their mind. Would Lae'zel be like their kin--eager to spill a traitor's blood?--or could she be reasoned with?

It turned out she was reasonable, if admittedly understandably wary of Xa'rok's curiosity surrounding the tadpole and their circumstances. They never grew overwhelmingly close because of it, but they were opportunistic allies and at the end, even friends. She often stayed at camp, as their goals were at odds, but Xa'rok never made her any promises they couldn't keep, and they rescued her once Orin took her. They parted with somewhat less than mutual respect, on Lae'zel's part, but the reunion party saw a new light of purpose in Lae'zel's eyes, and brought her once more into Xa'rok's orbit. They remain steadfast cooperators.

Shadowheart may have been icy to them on account of being gith, but she warmed up to them quickly and quickly grew to be a voice of reason with a hidden charm. Xa'rok kept her with them and she flourished for it. As a result, she ended up being the companion Xa'rok grew closest too, and she and Gale were the ones they missed the most when it came time to part ways. Shadowheart is judgemental and coy, but never where it mattered, and often Xa'rok would gossip with her during their time on the road.

Xa'rok took a shine to Gale right away. Their personalities just meshed, and he became a staple companion on the road and in a fight. When Gale got blown up by a torchbloom in the underdark and left behind instructions on how to resurrect him, Xa'rok was thrilled with the puzzle and impressed with their friend's humor in the face of death. They stole both his flute and the pouch it came in, though, and only gave them back once they had turned illithid and no longer had need of them. Gale, it turns out, hardly noticed. But he valued Xa'rok's input, and their steadying wisdom, and as a result he lived to see the Brain defeated and the orb quieted. Xa'rok was more than happy to reunite with him. 

[ from an out of game perspective, Gale was their BFF for a long while but a series of very annoying in game bugs made Xa'rok lose a little bit of shine for him and Shadowheart claimed the bestie spot in his absence. Sorry Gale. Stop stealing Xa'rok's important conversational spotlight at pivotal moments next time!! ]

They were also really close with Karlach and determined to find a way to help her. While her ending wasn't her ideal--and they did feel bad about vetoing her becoming a mindflayer as they were set on it instead--they were glad Wyll elected to go with her to Avernus, and that in the end she was able to survive and hopefully, one day, live to see the material plane again. 

Wyll and Astarion never factored into their journey much beyond the requisite questlines. I wish Wyll had more reactivity surrounding the Wyrmway and more autonomy in his choices determining his own fate. They must have had some interesting conversations after the Ansur fight, I imagine.

Lae'zel: wariness Shadowheart: intrigue Gale: camaraderie Karlach: curiousity Wyll: thought more of him when Mizora came into play to enact her punishment. Retribution for perceived sleights, they understood. Astarion: disinterest

Bonus Jaheira: respect

31. What does your tav think of the Underdark and the Myconids?

[ So funny story, I wasn't super up on illithid lore and assumed at the beginning of Xa'rok's journey the illithids were also native to the astral plane, hence the continual ongoing battle for dominance between their species--but it turns out they're mostly consigned to the underdark? so Xa'rok probably has all sorts of interest in the underdark as a result and a vested interest in going there. I didn't know this during the time we were actually there, though, beyond knowing some illithids obviously called the underdark home, and that Omeluum was there researching. ]

But that said, they enjoyed the environmental diversity and they LOVED Spaw and the myconids. The way the myconids spoke to one another was very reminescent of the way the tadpole allows them to speak to their companions, and so being among them and speaking through the spore network in this way felt like a natural extension of the powers they were already quite comfortable using. Glut almost immediately attached himself to their side and tried to get them to spark a rebellion, but they turned on Glut and earned Spaw's gratitude. The amulet they received in exchange for Nere's head was something they held close to their heart, and one they wore for a while [until it fulfilled my narrative joy and then inevitably I went back to the Misty Step amulet from Gut because one can never have too many Misty Steps]

bonus: What does Xa'rok think of Omeluum? 

So Xa'rok actually had a vested interest in Omeluum before the events of the game progressed. Sometime in their travels down the Sword Coast they learned of the society of brilliance and of Omeluum's involvement (though they had not yet been introduced and did not yet know its name). They established contact with the Lodge's headmaster to arrange a meeting in Baldur's Gate and ended up snatched by the Nautiloid before they made it into the city, so they never actually got to meet with Omeluum as planned, but they knew OF it, and when they ran into Omeluum by chance down in the Underdark it felt like a fated meeting. 

They were fascinated, of course, and thrilled to find out that rogue mindflayers both truly existed and were autonomous. It made their potential future goals seem less fantastical, and talking with Omeluum only furthered their resolve. They were eager to help with the potion, and trade stories for their ring, though they didn't feel they needed the protection -- they were more eager to share their experiences and interests with someone who might actually understand. 

The fact that Omeluum also appreciates music doesn't hurt, either.

They were quick to spring to its rescue when they found out from Blurg it had gone missing, and quick to dismiss its self-sacrificial demands they leave it behind. I like to think to this day they remain friends, and perhaps they learn a thing or two from Omeluum once they've settled into their new life.

[sadhoglet]

I ended up taking a job at Starbucks instead!! It's been pretty good so far. I have so many cool coworkers, it's unionized, and we even did a national walk out during one of Starbucks' big sales. Also....I realized yesterday that I've had customers introduce themselves and ask for my name for the first time ever??? In over eight years of working in the service industry. Like, you'd think Starbucks customers would be entitled and spoiled because they're picky and do so many modifications, but they've been overwhelmingly nice and so much better than the people at Panera. I get the same pay, more consistent hours, and better benefits, too once they kick in in about a month. Also I have some cute coworkers and there's cute customers ahhhhhhh I'm too gay

And!!! I finally got to hang out with my Doe after like...over a year of not seeing each other! It was so nice. We played Pokemon and cuddled and talked about our relationship. It's very low commitment. She's just been burned in the past by people and she's so busy that it's hard for her to find time for anything besides school and work.

Also, it's obvious she feels the same way. She's basically said everything but "I love you", and when I say it she gets so flustered ahhhh it's adorable. I can't believe I've found not one, not two, but three people who are amazing and good to me and who make me feel special in their own unique ways. They're all very Max Caulfield, too, which is hilarious to me. I definitely have a weakness for soft, awkward, sad girls omg.

I started therapy back up, too. My therapist is a very blunt middle aged woman who smokes and cusses and is super nice and reassuring. It's been hard thinking about and feeling old hurts again, but I know that I definitely still have a lot of work to do. I want journaling more here to be a part of that, and I want to get back to writing things that are...actually fun and not painful? I miss the fun part of being creative. I want to make worlds and stories again. I miss that so much.

Not sure what else to say. I'm here, still living and surviving. Still very broke but hopefully that will change soon with this new job. Still in love with three wonderful people. I'm sad and tired a lot but at least I'm not alone in it. I miss my best friend a lot but I know I'm way better without her. It's obvious now that she didn't feel the same way, which hurts, but it means I have space for a way better bestie. I hope I can find that one day. And I hope I can have a pet pig one day, too.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖊 I || professor!helmut zemo x reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 : history is so much more interesting when he’s teaching it.  you’d better be careful before the two of you end up with a history of your own.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : 6k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : smut (incl. semi-public sex in an office and oral f receiving), significant age gap (reader is 20, zemo is 39; it isn’t actually mentioned though but it comes up in the next part), the slightest bit of angst?, nearly pwp at this point lol

                                    You wouldn’t know it by the way you were enraptured with his lecture, but you weren’t even a history major.  

Quite far from it, really, well outside of the college of liberal arts, and yet here you were in the front row, watching him gesture over a large map of Western Europe while he explained the sociocultural impacts of the Treaty of Versailles.

It was probably pretty obvious why you took such interest in all this, though.  After all, you were the only one who dressed as well as he did, your blazers and skirts and loafers standing out amongst a sea of hoodies and sweats and flip-flops; and, you were the only one who paid close attention and yet never seemed to be taking any notes…

Why would you, after all?  Looking away to write in your notebook would mean missing out on all the fun, and unfortunately you had found that when you copied down the words he spoke, his accent was not retained in writing.

Some kid in the back of the class had asked about his accent the first day; you thought it was kind of a rude question, if you were being honest, but he didn’t seem to mind too much (if perhaps a bit surprised that anyone cared).  He explained he was from a small country called Sokovia, but that his accent was a bit unique since he spoke Russian, German, Spanish, and Italian as well.

Because of course he did.  Like he was specifically designed to target all your weaknesses.

“Well, I could talk about that for the rest of the evening but I’ll spare you all and let you out a bit early today, how does that sound?” Professor Zemo offered.  The other students weakly cheered, a few claps here and there as you heard binders shutting and backpacks being zipped, but you were disappointed.  You didn’t want to go back to your dorm, all you were going to do there was think about him anyways.

Damn, I’ve really got it bad, you thought to yourself, shaking your head as you stood up and gathering your things, slinging your bag over your shoulder.  You glanced up at the podium where another student was chatting with Professor Zemo, and either he said something really funny or she was trying way too hard to flirt with him.  You rolled your eyes, irritated by the display and yet envious of her audacity to just go up there and talk to him.  Imagine having a crush and actually being able to look them in the eye and hold a conversation; you could barely do that with people you didn’t happen to find attractive.

Just as you were about to make it out the door, you heard your name and spun around.  You were shocked to realize it was the Professor trying to get your attention.  If only you’d thought to pretend you hadn’t heard him.

“Could I speak with you for a moment?” he requested, motioning you over with two curled fingers.  With a swallow and a nod, you stepped out of the flow of students exiting into the hallway and approached the desk at the front of the room.

“What is it?” you asked.

“I just wanted to discuss your most recent paper, if you have some time,” he explained, and your heart sunk.  Of course it was garbage, you’d written the whole thing last minute during a near-all-nighter.  “I still have the copy you turned in here in my bag.”

“Right, of course— sure,” you nodded.  By now the classroom was empty spare for the two of you, your words echoing slightly; presumably that was intentional, since these places were built for acoustics, but it made you worry you’d have to hear whatever criticism he had for you multiple times.

He pulled out the slightly-wrinkled paper and took his glasses off of his vest to wear (fuck, did he have to wear the glasses, just to personally attack you?) as he glanced over the top page before folding it over the staple.

“This essay,” he continued, “it’s—”

Ridiculous.  Idiotic.  A blight on humanity and a waste of printer ink.

“Fascinating,” he finished, surprising you.  “After I read it, I searched your student profile on my office computer—”

You gulped, trying not to take that as a compliment.

“I’m looking at your information and I’m seeing you aren’t even a history major— is this a mistake, when it says your major is computer science?”

“No, that’s my major,” you nodded.

“Well, that’s a shame,” he decided, “because you have some really interesting ideas in here, clearly you must have studied history before.”

“I mean, not really,” you shrugged.  “I didn’t even care that much about history until, you know, you...r class,” you finished quickly, realizing it sounded too odd otherwise.

And that smile, the way he looked down at the floor suddenly, was he blushing?  “Thank you.  I’m always… glad to inspire.”

If only you knew everything you’d inspired in me, Professor.

“If you didn’t care about history, what would motivate you to register for an honors history seminar?” he asked suddenly.  

“Well…” you trailed off, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck as you dodged his gaze.

“It couldn’t possibly be because I’m teaching it,” he realized.

“I came to your talk last year, the one you did about the Sokovian civil war,” you finally admitted, letting out a lungful of air as you said it and looking up at him sheepishly.

“Ah,” he nodded, “yes, that might make a bit more sense.  But we still haven’t found the real reason, have we?”  His eyebrow raised slightly and you felt like he was toying with you— but you liked it, the shiver that ran up your spine made that obvious.  “Because the question remains of what would possess a computer science student to take time out of her busy schedule on a Friday night— if I recall the night correctly— to listen to some stuffy visiting scholar talk about a bloody war in a country she may not have even heard of before.”

“My friend brought me,” you defended.

“Under what guise?” he pressed.

“She… may have mentioned something about… a cute professor with a sexy accent…” you stammered, cringing slightly as you spared a glance back up at him.  He was staring back at you with the most bewildering expression.  His eyes said ‘you thought I was cute?’, and yet his smile said ‘I knew it.’

“You must’ve been horribly disappointed when I took the stage,” he finally replied, voice a bit lower, softer, not echoing around the room anymore.  

“Not at all,” you returned, almost below your breath now, and suddenly you became very aware that you were standing too close to him, but you couldn’t move away, you couldn’t even look away anymore.  “I’m here, aren’t I?  Taking your class?”

“And you make it nearly impossible to focus, did you know that?  I swear your eyes never leave me, I can feel them on me.  It’s quite unfair, because I can’t stare back at you no matter how much I want to.”

Just as you looked down at his lips and back up to his eyes, which seemed to be following a similar pattern on your own face, just when you thought this might be it and you were about to do something you really shouldn’t (but really wanted to), you heard the door open behind you and you spun around so fast you nearly hurt your neck.

“Oh,” the man in the doorway mumbled, apparently surprised to see you enough to nearly drop the papers tucked under his arm.  “I’m teaching the next class in here— Honors History of Islam?”

“Professor Waters, yes, my apologies,” Zemo nodded, “we were just… our discussion ran a bit long, we’ll get out of your way.”

You and Zemo awkwardly gathered your things and made a dash for the door as the older professor took his place at the podium.  Once the two of you were out in the hall, you let out a sigh and gave each other a glance, like you were each waiting for the other to either acknowledge or ignore what had just (almost) happened.

“I have my next class across campus in a half hour,” he remembered suddenly, lifting his arm and pulling back the brown sleeve of his coat to look at his watch.  

“Right, you should… get to that,” you nodded.

“Walk with me?” he proposed, and you hoped your smile wasn’t as beaming as it felt.  

“I’d love to.”

So maybe you ended up skipping your evening class to sit in the back of his History of England course.  And, perhaps, he ended that one early, too, this time to buy you coffee at the student center; and your discussion ended up going on so long that the coffee shop closed and you had to go to his office to finish the conversation.

But, in a certain sense, it could be argued that you never really got a chance to finish that conversation after all… because a few moments after he shut the door to his office, you, for lack of a better term, jumped his bones.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips as you pulled him closer by his jacket, “we can’t do this.”

You nodded, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck.  “Mhm, yeah, you’re right,” you agreed breathlessly.

His hands took their place at your waist as you both stepped back, the back of your legs bumping into his desk which you jumped up slightly to sit on.

“I mean, we really can’t do this,” he continued, kissing your neck instead now while your legs wrapped around his hips, your skirt riding up slightly, your fingers fumbling with the buttons on his collar.  “I want to, overwhelmingly so, but we can’t.”

“I know,” you sighed; your head fell back when his teeth grazed over your pulse, and his hand was right there to catch it and hold it up, gripping the back of your neck.

“This absolutely cannot happen,” he groaned when your legs pulled him closer, something hard and hot pressing up against your thigh through his trousers and you were really hoping it wasn’t just his cell phone.

Then he rocked his hips, just barely, and you felt the outline of the ridge of his head and it was definitely not his phone unless he had the most suggestively-shaped phone case of all time.  You gasped and grabbed his face to kiss him again, shamelessly desperate now, weaving your fingers into the hair just above the back of his neck.

By now you had managed to get a few of his buttons open so when you slid your fingers down from time to time, they ran over his chest and the patch of dark blonde hair there.  Funny enough, you couldn’t remember having any strong opinions on chest hair before this afternoon, but now you felt your walls fluttering around nothing.  

He helped you shed your blazer just before tossing his own coat aside, never breaking the kiss, holding your face gently while he pushed you down to lay on his desk— he reached behind you to clear a few stray papers out of the way first.  

Your back hit the glossy wood and his weight pinned you down, rough hands sliding up your legs and under your skirt as you tried to push your hips up for more friction where you needed him most.

He pushed your hips back down, not too roughly but definitely enough to get your attention, before sliding his hands up your skirt again where he toyed with the hem of your panties.

You wanted to say something, more specifically you wanted to beg him to touch you, but you had this fear that if you spoke now it would all become real and he would stop because, as he had so poignantly noted, this can’t happen.  And both of you knew that… so maybe it would be easier to let it happen if neither of you really acknowledged it.

Luckily, he didn’t tease you too long, reaching under the fabric and swiping the rough pads of his fingers over your slickened folds.  You choked on your gasp, accidentally digging your nails into his shoulders when he drew delicate circles around your clit.  All at once, he suddenly pushed those fingers right inside you and your back arched; you needed so much more than just his fingers but the way they twisted and curled against your walls was nearly perfect as well.  

They didn’t stay long, quickly pulling back as you watched him quickly open his trousers just before you felt the head of him pushing up to your entrance.

His eyes met yours, dark with need, yet somehow clearly asking you for permission, making sure this was what you wanted: and fuck, you wanted it more than anything.  The moment that you nodded, he began to push forward— slow and deliberate, but unyielding.  

Perhaps as a perfect healthy college student in a male-dominated major, you had no real excuse for it to have been so long since you’d had sex.  As you liked to put it: dating as a woman in computer science means the odds are good but the goods are odd.  Truth be told, you weren’t sure at this point if having had sex any time in the past year would’ve prepared you for him anyway.  It felt like he was forging a new path inside you— certainly a wider one than anyone else ever had since he was so thick.  

With his hips fully seated against yours, the tip of his cock just reached the end of you, just barely brushed over those sensitive spots you didn’t even know you had before.

It stung a bit to be filled this thoroughly, so it was no wonder you were biting down on your lip hard enough to bruise it, your fingers clutching at his shirt tightly.

“Am I hurting you?” he whispered, finally breaking the silence, voice strained like he was struggling just as much as you were (though in an entirely different way).

“A little,” you admitted.  “Please don’t stop.”

He groaned a few curses as he started to move back, and forth, and so slow you could hardly stand it.  

“Fuck,” you breathed, “oh my god, harder, please…”

A little smile crossed his face, a sharp exhale almost like a laugh, and it made your cheeks burn even hotter than they already were.  But, he obeyed, regardless, more aggressive in his movements yet not any faster as he held your hips to keep you from sliding across the desk’s glossy wood surface.

Your moans were starting to echo around the office’s beige walls at this point, and he snarled as he bit down on your neck.  “You need to stay quiet,” he hissed in your ear.  “Can you do that for me?  Can you stay quiet even when I’m making you feel so good?”

“I-I’m trying,” you whimpered, “your cock is… so deep…”

“Oh, I know,” he cooed, voice heavy with faux pity, “poor thing, you can’t take it?”

“No!” you yelped.  “I can take it!  Please, please don’t stop.”

“I won’t have to if you stay quiet, darling, we can’t have somebody hearing you now can we?” he chuckled, licking and sucking at your pulse point as your eyes rolled back in your head.  “We can’t have somebody hearing you cry for me, and coming in here, and seeing you laying on my desk getting fucked by your professor, right?”

What the hell was wrong with you that that idea actually turned you on?  Why did it actually make you want to moan louder until everyone could hear you?

And when his cock speared right against that spongy spot inside you, you did exactly that and he had to suddenly clamp his hand down over your mouth.

“Fuck,” he growled, “you’re going to get us both in trouble.”

Your attempts at apologies were totally incomprehensible with his hand over your mouth, not that they were likely to have made much sense either way.

Blinking your eyes shut, your legs began to quiver slightly as he rutted into you, your toes curling inside your loafers.  You felt so full you could hardly stand it, stretched so wide that you were forced to feel every detail of his cock as it filled you.  Already your walls were bearing down on him; you couldn’t help it, it was like your body was just his instrument now and instinct had taken control of your movements.  

His accent was definitely stronger now as he whispered in your ear, praising you gruffly.  You knew from the beginning that you loved high marks and encouragement from your teachers, but this… this was different, and you hadn't known how much it would affect you.

"Good girl," he breathed, "you're taking me so well, draga, you feel so perfect around me."

You whined from behind his hand and he chuckled at your obvious neediness.

"You like making me feel good, darling?" he presumed, his smile pressing against your neck between nipping kisses to your pulse point.  "You like knowing that I can barely take this tight cunt gripping me so well, that I'm already addicted to your precious body and want to fill it with my seed?"

With your eyes rolling back in your head you nodded feverishly, heavy in your state of total delirium as he pumped his cock deep into you over and over.

You reached up to try to pull his hand away from your mouth, and he met your gaze with fire in his eyes.

“If I take my hand away, will you be good?” he challenged, and you nodded feverishly.  He was a bit hesitant but slowly moved his hand down, and though you did have to keep biting your lip, you managed to restrain yourself.

Every drag of the ridge of his head inside you was somehow more intense than the last, somehow hitting right at your spot and it was like each rough thrust knocked his name out of your mind and onto your lips until you were chanting it like a prayer, or a plea.

And each time you said it, he fucked you harder, snarling and whispering your name back to you a few times, in between little praises; "Beautiful," he mumbled, "such a sweet little girl… such a perfect cunt."

“I— fuck, I’m gonna—” you stammered your warning.  

“Will you come for me?” he finished for you, and you nodded quickly.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you hissed.

It was obvious just by the build-up that you were going to come hard, pleasure tightening in your core until you were sure that it would spill over but it just kept going, making you wonder if it would ever reach the breaking point.

And oh boy did it, it slammed into you in fact, and your legs quivered as you struggled for air.  He growled in your ear, fucking you harder through it all, stroking every place that had only become even more sensitive.  The moment you could form words again, you were wasting the ability on a string of swears and promises you couldn’t keep.

“Yours, fuck, it’s yours,” you sobbed.  He chuckled a little, pulling back to examine your face which must have given away how fucked-out and cockdrunk you were already.

“Say it again,” he demanded darkly, holding you tighter, fucking you a bit more deliberately though not any less aggressively.

“Yours,” you gasped, cut off by a rough and dominating kiss.  Your moans were lost to his tongue but he didn’t need them to know you were coming, the way your body gripped him tighter than ever was sign enough.

“So good,” he whispered against your lips, “you’re doing so good for me…”

His words washed over your skin and soothed you like a salve, bringing some relief from the overwhelming feelings his body was assaulting yours with.

All things considered, he was still moving rather slowly, each of his thrusts measured and patient, and never really changing speed even as you were coming around him.  Weak little cries fell from your throat each time his hips met yours and the tip of his cock kissed the deepest parts of you.

Your body went limp in his arms and you hadn't noticed before how good it felt for him to hold you, for his strong hands to support you like it was nothing.  His thumb gently stroked your back through your shirt and you mewled weakly into his shoulder.

"So good, draga, so fucking good," he mumbled, holding you closer.

"Please… faster," you whimpered, "I want you to come."

"Is that what you want?" he taunted, ignoring the way you nodded immediately.  "You want to make me come, darling?"

"Yes, please, want it so much," you gasped.

He finally sped up, though it was still nothing like the lightning-speed jackhammering you were used to from guys your age: it was better, certainly, especially when he lifted your leg onto his shoulder and pushed so deep you saw stars.

The second one seemed to hit you all at once, almost out of nowhere, and you heard yourself mumble, “Professor, I’m coming.”  It sounded a bit pitiful, the way you said it, but he apparently didn’t mind as you felt him nod encouragingly in the crook of your neck.

You felt totally drained by now, exhausted even though all you’d been doing was lying there and taking it, but you knew he wasn’t done with you yet.  But, if the way his thrusts were becoming more desperate and erratic were anything to go by, he might be done with you soon.

"I'm going to come inside you," he groaned against your ear.  You were, like, 99.9% sure that if you told him not to, he would pull out, but the way that he phrased it, like a demand, like you didn't have a choice and he would do it either way… it had an effect on you, one he noticed when your channel tightened around him instantly.  "Oh, you like that idea, hm?  You want to be full of my come?  Your sweet little cunt is already trying to milk every drop from me."

"Yes," you breathed, "fuck, I want your come in me, please!"

He sped up quite a bit then, each slam of his hips into yours making you choke on a whine, your arms weakly clinging onto him for dear life.

You could feel his cock swelling, flexing, pushing your body to its limits as he moaned lowly through his teeth, streams of come making you feel warm and full.

He didn't stop until every drop was in you, thrusting in time with each pump of his release until he slowed to a stop.

Strands of hair fell into his face as he hung his head, panting hard and fast.  You melted back onto the desk, realizing this might be the first time in a solid half hour your back wasn’t arched.

It was a bit of a struggle to keep your eyes open against the heavy fog of afterglow that filled your mind; you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so… satiated.  As a college student, you were always thinking about the next assignment, mentally re-evaluating your calendar, or preparing for something— and usually all on less than six hours of sleep.

But now your mind was as close to a blank slate as it had been in at least a decade.  Even though you probably should’ve been, you weren’t even thinking about the potential consequences of this, the implications, the risks.  No, you were just staring up at him, thinking about kissing him again.

He would have to lean down for that, though; there was no way you were going to sit up now.

You hadn't even noticed that you had closed your eyes, almost falling asleep right there on his desk, until you felt his hand cradle your face softly, a calloused thumb rubbing over your cheek.

In unison, the both of you sighed deeply.

As much as it felt like a real effort, you blinked open your eyes and looked up at him, watching him comb his fingers through his hair.  It only messed up the style even further yet he looked better than ever.

He slowly moved his hips back, leaving you annoyingly empty, and readjusted himself until he almost looked put together again… but his collar was still uneven and his lips still looked bitten and there was still that precious pinkish hue on his cheeks.  If anyone else saw him in this state, they’d either know what happened between you two or think he’d just run across campus or something.

If anyone else saw him in this state, you’d be a little jealous, to be totally honest.

You got back to work trying to right your appearance as well, though you knew the best you could hope for was only mildly presentable; he looked at you like you’d never looked better, though.

“Well, this was fun,” you chuckled breathlessly, “but it’s getting pretty late and I have an eight a.m. tomorrow…”

“Yeah, so do I,” he nodded, glancing away.  

You picked up your bag from where you’d dropped it by the door, lifting the strap over your shoulder and starting to turn to leave.

"I… I should walk you back to your dorm," he announced, making you smile.

"That's sweet, but save your chivalry.  I can take care of myself just fine."

"But—"

"I think it's safer if we're not seen together walking together by my dorm," you interjected, "especially when I'm walking a little funny…"

"I hope I didn't hurt you," he winced sympathetically.

"No, trust me, that was… exactly what I needed," you breathed.  He smiled a little, looking down at the floor.

"Then I'll see you in class," he nodded, watching you closely as you stepped back and picked up your bag, starting to leave his office with one last small wave goodbye.  “Wait, wait!” he whispered harshly just before you could let go of his door, and you giggled as he leaned out into the hall and glanced around to make sure no one was nearby.  

When he confirmed the coast was clear, he smiled and grabbed your face with one hand, pulling you into a sudden kiss.  And you smiled too— you couldn’t help it— as you kissed him back, almost ready for him to drag you back into that office and start this all over again.  He did let you go, though, with one more whispered ‘goodnight’ and a look that made your heart do little somersaults.

As you finally did make your way back to your dorm, you tried to figure out if that was a goodbye kiss or a ‘see you soon’ kiss.  Or maybe a ‘thanks for the one-time office quickie’ kiss?  But you didn’t know enough about this sort of thing to know if that was even an option.

All you did know was that you really hoped it wasn’t the last kiss you’d have with him.

Can I speak to you in my office today after class?  Thank you.

-Z

You may ask yourself: can one simple email, in only thirteen words, strike fear into the hearts of those who read it?  And the answer is yes, assuming that email is from Professor Helmut Zemo and read by the lovestruck student who slept with him two days ago and hasn't stopped thinking about it since.

Only one of a few things could happen in his office after class, and there was a massive gap between the best and worst case scenarios.  You dressed for the best but prepared yourself psychologically for the worst.

You caught him staring as you walked past the teaching podium to your seat in the front; you just hoped nobody else caught him.  And if you'd thought paying attention in class was tough before, boy oh boy was it a challenge now.  The nerves of what he wanted to discuss with you were bad enough alone, but that combined with memories from two days earlier randomly assaulting your psyche was just overwhelming.

When he pointed at the map with two fingers, you could remember exactly how those fingers had felt inside you, twisting and curling and getting you ready for his cock.

When he spoke, you could hear the difference in his voice compared to how he groaned out his praises while he was fucking you within a damn inch of your life.

And every once in a while, when he couldn’t help but glance at you for a moment, his gaze burned right through you; you were helpless to those brown eyes, completely paralyzed by them, and it must’ve been hours of that before class finally ended.

For the first time, you were the first person out the door when he released the class.  As much as it was going to be a little bit weird to beat him to his office, it was certainly better than any of your other options.  There was a chair in the hall beside the door, and you took a seat and pretended to read a book just to look busy (there was no way you could actually turn symbols on a page into readable language right now, not when you knew he’d be here any minute to talk about… something).

Your peripheral caught him coming down the hall, but you pretended to be deeply immersed in your book until he was right beside you, unlocking his door and opening it for you and himself.  Tucking your book away and following him inside, you found him already staring at you, expression completely unreadable.  Your gut sank in anticipation of whatever conversation this was going to become, and a moment passed in heavy silence.

"Hi," you greeted plainly, letting out a quick breath.

"Hi," he returned.  "Close the door behind you."

You nodded and did as you were told, quietly pushing the wood back until the door latched before approaching where he had come to stand beside his desk.  Though you didn't originally intend to, you found yourself standing a bit too close.

"I'm not quite sure where to start," he admitted, chuckling breathlessly as he reached up to rub the back of his neck.  He looked cute flustered, which was a shame because his tone seemed to imply you needed to not be thinking about how cute he was.  “Listen, you should know that what happened before… it was a mistake,” he sighed.  “It can’t happen again.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked point-blank.

“It can’t happen again,” he repeated in lieu of a real answer, and you looked closely at his face; you didn’t find as much confidence there as you were looking for, it wasn’t the face of a man who knew he was making the right choice.  You certainly didn’t think he was making the right choice.

“Why did you want to have this conversation alone in your office, then?” you challenged.

He cleared his throat slightly.  “So no one would hear us.”

“Hear us talk?” you pressed.  “Is that all?”

“That’s… definitely the plan,” he nodded, swallowing dryly.  "Like I said, it was a mistake— my fault, not yours.  And I just hope we can put it behind us respectfully."

“All the best mistakes are made at least twice,” you whispered, reaching up to trail your finger down his lapel.  “Don’t you think?”

“Don’t do that,” he requested tensely.

"Do what?"

"That," he hissed.  "Stop being… irresistible," he clarified, eyes darting from your lips to your finger to your eyes and back again.  "A man can only take so much.  I'm trying to do right by you."

"You already did when you fucked me that good," you smirked.  "Nothing else could be as right as that."

Your fingers were just barely brushing over his belt when he grabbed you by the wrist.  Jaw tight and eyes solemn, he shook his head.

You wrenched out of his grasp with a nod.  It was worth a shot, but you didn't want to be that person who couldn't take no for an answer— so, you gave him a little smile and readjusted the strap of your bag.  “Well, if it was just the once, then you should know that I’m still glad it happened.  Even if it shouldn’t have.”

He nodded, strategically not speaking— but you knew he would agree, if he could.

“And if it’s any consolation to you now, you were the best I ever had.”

You reached for the doorknob, just starting to turn it and open your way out when he suddenly slammed it shut with a hand right above your head, making you gasp and spin around to look up at his dark gaze.

“Professor…” you whispered.

“The best you ever had?” he repeated, grinning proudly when you nodded.  “Oh, sweetheart, I wasn’t even trying.”  He leaned down to brush his lips against your ear as he whispered to you: “You don’t even know yet how good I can make you feel.”

A shiver ran up your spine; your tongue darted out to lick your lips.  “Are you going to get on with it and show me?”

He didn’t even let you step away from the door, dropping to his knees right there and pushing up your skirt to kiss and bite your thighs.  “Only if you ask very nicely,” he taunted with a brow raised in challenge.

“Please,” you breathed, “fuck, please, want you to taste me.”

His hands slid up your legs, grabbing the hem of your panties before sliding back down.

It wasn’t like you’d never been eaten out before, but this still felt like a first considering your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your panties were pulled down to your ankles, and even just one slow lick over your folds made it obvious he knew exactly what he was doing.

“F-fuck,” you choked, reaching down to weave your fingers into his hair.  He grinned against your skin and kept going, exploring you carefully before finally sucking on your swollen clit.  Your knees threatened to buckle, your head fell back against the door so hard it almost hurt, but all you could really feel was his mouth on you, moving like he knew your body better than you did.

So it was no wonder, then, that you already began to spiral towards your release, legs shaking around his head as he devoured you mercilessly.

"Oh my god, I—" you tried to warn him, but he already knew, and he pulled back to wipe his mouth with his sleeve and stand up.  He grabbed your jaw and kissed you roughly, stopping to whisper to you so close that his lips brushed against yours.

"I'm sorry, draga, but you've spoiled me… now that I've felt you come around my cock, I can't imagine making you come any other way.  I need to feel your cunt grip me so fucking tight… it's all I've been thinking about since I last saw you," he admitted.

"I thought about it, too," you sighed.  "I was up all night trying to make myself come as good as you did but I couldn't… your come was still leaking out of me."

He growled and leaned in to nip at your ear.  "Oh, poor thing… I can imagine it so easily, you laying in your bed with your legs spread, fingers getting exhausted from playing with your little pussy too much, these perfect lips whining for me because you need me to take care of you."

"H-Helmut, please," you whimpered.  

"Yeah, something like that," he smirked.

"I can't wait any more, just fuck me.  Need you inside me," you breathed.

"Then bend over my desk."

{part 2}

[keysmashingfantasies]

Bloody Comfort

pre borderlands!Niragi x fem!reader / Niragi x fem!reader

A/N:  i feel like i only post Marvel on this blog and i missed my show so here it is, finally an AiB fic! :D also, minigame: how many alice in wonderland references can you spot? also also, bloody comfort is an awesome name for a band and if you do name your band that, i want my money. enjoy the fic! also also also i didn’t proofread SHIT so sorry for any grammar mistakes.

trigger warning: bullying, mentions of violence (nothing too graphic, i think but beware nonetheless), death (graphic. i mean, i’m not that good of a writer but still, beware), very slight mentions of nsfw, especially torwards the end, niragi (HE’S A WARNING OK), niragi having disturbing thoughts (what else is new. but fr, ok), sliiiiiight yandere niragi torwards the end. (also I tried not to describe in too much detail the bullying that niragi and the reader suffer in the fic so it wouldn’t be too sad). 

@dreamingofanisland here it is bestie! 

Niragi couldn’t pinpoint when he stopped being sad and when he started getting angry. From a suffocating hopelessness came a desperation he could only describe as feral. He often fantasized about just jumping over his desk and strangling each one of them to death but his thoughts quickly ended with Niragi envisioning himself being overpowered and beaten. He started to not only get angry at his bullies, but people in general. Things. Life.

How could so many people turn a blind eye? How could life be so unfair to give people like this the upperhand and not him? Not him that clearly deserved it? This world was backwards.

-

He knew he was fucked when he saw the bat, and although he braced for the impact he couldn’t help but fall to his knees and wince at the sickening sound that the baseball did in contact with his nose.

He just sat there and while all he wanted to do was to rip their throats with his teeth all he did was to endure a few more punches before they left with a promise that there would be more. He sat there trying not to cry with sheer frustration. His papers were scattered around, the left arm of his glasses was broken and his pristine black outfit was now covered in dust from the gravel, his hands scratched. He could taste blood on his tongue and he felt a sick satisfaction, pretending for one moment that it was another person’s blood he was tasting.

“Do you need help?”, a voice woke him from his violent daydreams. Suddenly everything boiled over and he felt an overwhelming anger rise inside of him. In a blink of an eye he was standing up, yelling at a somewhat blurry image of a girl who he towered over, even more as she shrunk under his anger. If he wouldn’t be so busy screaming profanities, he would be madly aroused.

“WHAT, HUH? CAME TO SEE THE SHOW? TO LAUGH AT ME?”, he was furious, and as he approached her, she proceeded to walk back.

“No. I just wanted to help”, she said. It seemed another flash and suddenly he could see a bit clearer. Although startled, she didn’t seem afraid of him, and was extending him a tissue. “Your nose is bleeding”, she said, and Niragi wanted to scoff at her for stating the obvious. But she was being kind. And as angry as he was, kindness wasn’t something that he could say no to. He tried his best to control his shaky hands as he took the tissue from her hands and carefully dabbed his nose, as she ducked to collect his papers, and tuck them back into his bag.

“Saw what they did to you. ‘m sorry”, she mumbled. Niragi wanted to strangle her out of sheer embarrassment.

“And you just took some popcorn and enjoyed the spectacle?”, he spat.

“I wanted to help but I wasn’t sure what to do. Would you rather if I had called someone?”, she asked. He breathed once, twice. She wasn’t mocking him, but was unnervingly calm. Something about her being calm while he was practically foaming at the mouth had him seeing red and suddenly he regret having wiped the blood off of his lips.

“No”, he said, calmly. “No, I wouldn’t. Sorry. I have to go”, he said, ripping his bag from her hands with such force that he tugged her arm with it.

“Wait! I mean what I said! I want to help!”

“You, help me? What are you going to do, huh? Be my bodyguard?”, he mocked her one more time. He couldn’t help himself, his brain got used to this. Fight or flight. His adrenaline was pumping and everytime he was around school grounds he looked over his shoulder.

“Hmmm, sorta? Not exactly but I could show you a place. A safe place”, she said. He just looked at her.

“If we get there and it’s a prank of some sort I’ll let you punch me. Square in the face”, she said.

“Are you insane? You just go around letting people punch you in the face?”, his mouth was quicker than his brains and suddenly he felt his face grow hot at the irony of what he had said. But if she noticed it, she didn’t mention.

“Let me help you”, she said.

And he did.

He followed her through a wooded area near the school grounds after walking through a hole in a fence.

He was getting ready to beat you to the punch and hit you so hard that you’d bleed as hard as he did, until you stopped until you reached a very underwhelming toolshed with a padlock.

“We’re here”, you said, and he realized that she sounded different. All this time she was on edge. ‘Of course, Suguru, you threatened the girl like, 3 times’, said the voice in the back of his head. She pulled a key from her bag and the padlock opened easily and they heavy chains fell to the ground and she pushed open the door, going inside. He hesitantly followed.

The inside is nothing as he thought it would be. For starters, it was surprisingly clean and  it didn’t smell bad. And instead of tools and brooms and leafblowers, it had bean bags, blankets, a table with a radio full of knickknacks in the corner and a chair that had clearly seen better days but looked comfortable none the less. The girl walked to a corner of the room and his eyes followed her as she closed the door, which had small sharpie drawings on it. She reached for a white box and settled it on the floor between the two bean bags, and reached inside a very small thermos to pull out an artificially blue isotonic drink and settled it down too. Then from the plastic bag he previously assumed was trash, she pulled a bag of chips.

She then patted the bean bag next to hers. “Welcome to my clinic”, she said, placing the white box on her lap.

-

After an entire afternoon of bonding over unhealthy food and an impromptu first aid rescue, Niragi learned that her name was Y/N, she was a year below and that this little world she created was her refuge from the girls in her class that picked on her.

“I found this and decided that it would be nice. No one’s using it, it’s far from everything. It’s on the Beheaded Woman’s territory”.

Niragi heard the rumors through his bullies. “One day we’ll drag you to the Beheaded Woman’s woods and fucking kill you”.  After further investigation, he learned that allegedly a girl was dragged through the woods and beheaded with a blunt axe.

“I made the rumors up. I had to make sure no one would find my safe haven”, she explained. “And once you write something in the girls’ bathroom stall, there’s no turning back. It’s out there and it’s truth”, she sighed. “I would know”.

He wasn’t the most up to date in all the gossip but she told him her story. The rumors they spread, the things they did to her. She almost seemed amused. He in turn told her his story. By the end of it, he could kill someone. She then offered him the other key to her safe haven.

“You can decorate it too. Don’t tell anyone else and make sure to lock it after you use it. Use it as much as you want, just make sure they don’t follow you, okay?”

He took the keys with shakey hands, a knot on his throat. Another type of adrenaline was pumping through his veins. When a few moments ago there were a fast white heat, coursing through him like an electric current, this was slow and almost overwhelmingly warm, like molten lava.

“Why are you doing this? Being so nice to me?”, he whispered as if it was a secret, as if this moment was another fantasy, a deer that’s easily spooked. He had fantasized about this too. A safe haven, an ally. A friend.

“Because we’re the same, you and I”.

-

You hated him. You hated him with a burning passion. What was at first an act of pity, born from the empathy you felt by seeing someone go through what you did, quickly became a friendship and like a disease, it spread to beyond your safe haven. You would spend your free time together, walk home together. You became friends. And what did he do? Exactly what he told you he would.

“Sometimes don’t you wish to disappear?”, he whispered to you once.

“Yeah. Like, run away? Yeah, I do”, you replied agreeing with him.

 ‘You’re the only one that understands me. We really are the same’, he would say. What at the beginning of your budding crush on him gave you butterflies on the stomach now made you want to throw up.

You lost your only friend. You despised the sound of music now, because every single song you heard, you shared with him. For the same reason, you didn’t enjoy your favorite movies anymore. Your bullies banded together to target you. And the worst part of all, is that you couldn’t even care. There was no silver lining anymore.

“Don’t you get furious?! Don’t you want to hurt them, make them pay?”, he said as he watched you apply concealer to a bruised cheek.

“I mean, I get angry but I try my best to not let it get to me. It’s what they want. I despise those people, I can’t get in a funk because of them”, you said nonchalantly.

But you had loved him. And now you felt like even moving around was an herculean task, like you were almost dead trying to get to safety. But there was no safety anymore.

Ironically, you started to understand him more and more after he disappeared. The anger, the hatred. How could anyone just follow their lives? When there’s people like you just suffering through yours?

Suguru Niragi was an illness, a parasite. He carved his way under your skin and into your heart, laid eggs of his hate on your veins and sucked you dry of your life’s essence. Then, after you were a shell of a human, he disappeared out of thin air, leaving you alone. Leaving you with those people. Leaving you to die.

And you were still in love with him.

-

You thought you were finally insane when it happened.

The streets were empty. Absolutely no one. You wondered for a moment if you felt so alone that your mind convinced itself that that’s exactly what had happened, if any moment now you would be locked in an insane asylum for running around and screaming until you throat got raw.

It took you two games to understand what was going on. You made sure to change clothes. Running shoes, leggings and a warm hoodie that you never let the hood down. You decided to significantly shorten your hair after you saw a man pull a young girl by the ponytail in a spades game. You loaded a backpack with food and bottles of water, anything you could find. And an axe that you took from an emergency box from the building you slept in.

It was on your 5th game that it happened. You saw people die in these games, but none of it was hands on for you. You just watched your back and hoped to win and let whoever was running this show take care of the rest. Honestly, you didn’t even wait to know if anyone even survived. You were done doing that.

When you got there, there were five people already. They banded together and whispered amongst themselves as you passed them by and grabbed a phone. Probably just a group of friends that got stranded at the same time and decided to stay together. You clutched you axe harder.

You didn’t even realize that you had zoned out until you heard hollering and four guys heavily armed walked you by. Where the fuck did they get guns? One of them let out a boisterous laugh that reminded you of someone that you wanted desperately to forget. You couldn’t even get over him during fucking Saw? That sound made your skin crawl.

Registration closed, said the mechanic voice. Difficulty: 8 of clubs. The first 5 players will be the first team and the last 5 players will be the second. One team must eliminate the others without losing any players. Both teams will be identified by the color of your screen, and will have one minute to hide.

You saw the armed guys’ screens light up red. You sighed in relief as yours did too. You made sure to keep your head down and thank whoever that not killing teammates was a part of the rules. They seemed amused and absolutely calm, and the guy with the rifle laughed again. You were shaking by now.

When the minute started, everyone bolted in different directions. You didn’t even look back to see if your teammates had accompanied you but by the sound of your footsteps crushing leaves, you were alone. You decided to go back after a while, looking around. A lamppost. Huh, lamppost it is. You leaned against the cool metal and focused on the silence. The minute had ended but they were still hunting. You didn’t come across anyone, which was good. After a while, all you could hear were distant gunshots.

You looked to the floor, only to see a shadow approaching you quick. You barely had time to dodge before a man hit you behind the head with a rock. You reacting made him lose his balance, falling to the floor and letting go of the rock. You looked at him. It was one of the boys from the other team. He had on a white button up blouse and a black hoodie. His hair had fallen over his brown eyes and he looked so scared and so alone.

This will have to do.

You didn’t stop, suddenly lifting the axe and bringing it down was like an automatic thing.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU! HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME? AFTER ALL I’VE DONE FOR YOU! YOU ABANDONED ME IN A MINUTE, LEFT ME ALONE IN THAT HELL!”

You didn’t stop when he started praying and then screaming. You didn’t stop when he started bleeding profusely or when the strength of your movements made your hood slide down from your head. You didn’t stop when his head got detached from his body and if you weren’t so angry, you would’ve listened tfootsteps. You didn’t stop until you had made mincemeat out of his face. Just for the sheer audacity of reminding you of him.

He looked at you from afar while you looked at the body of the boy whose skull you just had destroyed, a maniac, victorious smile on your face. You were pretending the boy was him. You really thought he had abandoned you? He would be absolutely heartbroken if he wasn’t so aroused. That’s what he always wanted to see, the instincts that you tried to push down. You were right, you were both the same. He wanted to lick that blood off of you, use it as lube to take you right there. When he first arrived at the Borderlands, when he first killed someone and liked it, he thought you would be disgusted by him. But look at you now. You were here, perfect for him, soaked in blood, feral. He’s never been so hard.

“Y/N”, he said.

“Niragi?,” you said. He ran to you, held you even when you fought back, even when you screamed bloody murder that you were going insane, begging to die already, even when you passed out on his arms. He licked a drop of blood from your neck.

“Let me take you to our safe haven”, he whispered against your skin.

[noteguk]

danger zone | knj | m

— summary; in which namjoon lives a dangerous life and sometimes you can’t really stand it. Still, you can’t step away either. 

— contents and warnings; smut, a little spark of angst and a fuckload of fluff, criminal!namjoon x reader, established relationship, dom!namjoon and sub!reader, breast play, fingering, oral (f rec), dirty talk, begging, Namjoon has a big dick, unprotected sex, creampie, a bit of possessiveness, multiple orgasms, overstimulation 

— words; 4,5k 

— author’s note; this was supposed to be a quick pwp drabble but here we are… 

Words could not explain the relief that washed over you when you saw the headlights peaking through the diaphanous living room curtains, blasting inside your house like beacons of divine hope. You ran to the front door faster than ever before, stepping into the cold mist of the night as he closed the car door behind him. You managed to see his friend, Hoseok, waving you goodbye before he pulled out of the driveway and you started balling your eyes out. 

And then you couldn’t really see anything else. 

Namjoon did not hesitate to walk toward you, wrapping his strong arms around your lower back and pulling you closer to his warm chest. He smelled of vanilla and cigarettes, and your knees almost buckled at the thought of losing that scent forever. 

“Baby, you’re gonna catch a cold,” he mumbled, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. Namjoon positioned one hand on the nape of your neck, playing with your hair as you whimpered against his hot embrace, fists clenched over his pecs. You were wearing only pyjama shorts and a tank top, and the gelid breeze of the night showed you no mercy. “Why don’t we go inside?” 

For a moment you thought that your legs would fail you, but, to your relief, it was just a feeble impression. Namjoon held you tightly against him as you two walked back inside your house, mumbling how much he missed you, how much he couldn’t wait to see you again. All that you could do was to listen, with your nose stuffy and eyes tearing up, as he started telling you about his past few weeks.

You had been sure you had lost him that time. Namjoon had never stayed longer than a day without talking to you (or at least telling you that he would be a bit M.I.A. for the following weeks, because of the secretive nature of his work), and the fact that you had gotten nothing but silence for almost three weeks was enough to make your mind go wild. It wasn’t hard to imagine that the worst had finally happened. 

There was no one you could call — as in, you had a few numbers, but you were prohibited to get in contact with them. Namjoon had made it clear that he didn’t want you to get involved in his business, and something as simple as a phone call to the wrong person could be enough to get you wrapped up in an official investigation. He had made special efforts to make sure that, in case all went to shit, the feds could never prove that you knew anything about his illicit schemes. If something happened to him — prison, death, something in between — Namjoon would be at peace knowing that you were safe and taken care of. 

So, you had been good, and you didn’t call. You had just waited, fighting through your normal routine and forging fake smiles towards your coworkers. By the time that the second week rolled around, you were considering calling every morgue in the country — and then quickly melted down once you realized he was probably not even using his real name. There was nothing you could do but wait. For god knows how long. 

Times like those made you want to give up on everything. You and Namjoon had a chemistry that you never felt before, you understood each other in levels that you never thought possible. He loved you with all of his heart and you felt the same. And yet, you were exhausted from being so scared for him, from feeling so helpless in the face of his unstable and unpredictable job. 

You had told yourself that, if he came back, you would end it all. 

But now that he was standing in front of you, things weren’t so easy. 

Your boyfriend took you to the kitchen, where he warmed up a drink for you as he told you about how he had spent those last few weeks. Namjoon explained that one of his shipments had been stolen (of what, you didn’t dare to ask), and he had to take care of it himself. During that time, he and his crew were being attacked and watched constantly, and he would never risk the idea of pulling you into that mess. It was an unspoken truth that having you as a hostage would make all of his defenses crumble. Expressing any sort of weakness in his business was like bleeding in a sea full of sharks.  

You understood, because of course you would. And he understood when you told him about how terrified, how overwhelmingly worried you had been. 

“I wanted to call Yoongi, Hoseok… I don’t know, anyone,” you said, taking your cup of tea closer to your face. The heat emanated in waves, warming up your lips as the thin lines of smoke curled up in the air. You took a small slip, and the coldness of the night was just a memory then. “But I knew that I shouldn’t do that, so I just… Joon, I thought you were dead.” 

“I’m so sorry, love.” Namjoon pulled you in, wrapping one arm around your back and pressing a kiss against your forehead. You always felt so safe in his arms, like nothing could ever touch you. “I know how you feel, it’s unfair making you go through this.” 

“It is.” You sniffed, looking down at your tea cup. “But it’s all for you. And I love you, Joon.” 

There was a second of silence as the words floated in the space between the two of you, a deep sigh from your part as you placed the cup on the marble surface of the kitchen island. That house felt too big for you, too spacious and filled with expensive stuff, and it whispered doubts in your ear. You didn’t know where all that money came from, you often didn’t know what Namjoon was doing or what he was thinking about. You had no idea what kind of dangers he faced every single day, or the hoops he had to jump through to keep you safe. 

You could have given up on everything already. You knew that he would understand. But you didn’t. Time and time again, you would realize that all your momentaneous bravery towards a breakup was short-lived: you loved him more than you feared losing him. You wanted Namjoon and no one else. You knew that ending things and stepping into an ordinary life, with an ordinary guy and ordinary worries, would never cut it. You had learned to live in the danger zone that was your relationship with Namjoon, and you doubted you could ever truly step away from it. 

Namjoon knew that too. He looked down at you with a deep mixture of tenderness and devotion in his dark eyes, caressing your cheek as he dove in to place a kiss on your lips. “I love you too, baby,” he murmured. “I missed you so much.”  

You melted in his hold, surrounding his waist with your arms and pushing yourself against his chest. “Missed you too,” you said. “I know why you keep these things secret from me, but it fucking sucks.” 

Namjoon chuckled, his calloused hands caressing your hair. You realized that he probably was just as worried as you — not knowing if you were safe, if you hadn’t gotten yourself in a messy situation trying to find him. Needless to say, he was filled with pride knowing you did everything he had asked you to. “I’m gonna tell you a secret, but you can’t tell anyone.” The suspense in his voice was enough for you to pull away from his chest, looking up at him with expectant eyes. Namjoon cupped your checks with his hands and smiled. “You're the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” 

You could not fight the smirk that crawled up on your lips. That simple sentence was enough to shift the weight of the atmosphere around the two of you, allowing for your hurt to slip away. “Bullshit,” you said. 

“I’m serious.” He raised his eyebrows, lowering himself so he could place another pec on your lips. “Inside and out.”

That time, you could not hold back your laugh. “You’re so cheesy.” 

Your comment seemed to light up something inside his head, because, the next second, Namjoon was pulling away with a click of his tongue. “Speaking of cheesy, I almost forgot,” he started to say, turning around. “I got you something. It’s in the bedroom with the rest of my stuff.” 

You stood still for a second, trying to understand his words. “You... got me something? In the middle of all of that mess?” Then you were rushing behind him, going up the stairs as Namjoon simply hummed in agreement. “Joon, it’s okay, I—“ 

“Accept my gift, baby.” He stopped as he reached the second floor, waiting for you to catch up. “It’s not gonna make up for the time away, but I want to make you happy.” 

“What is it?” You asked, wet eyes blinking up at him, but he only smiled and turned around, gesturing for you to follow him into the bedroom. 

~ 

Namjoon’s present was a dress — or, rather, the dress. It was this beautiful long gown you had seen a few months back during one of your trips to the mall, a grandiose red thing that wrapped around the mannequin’s upper body before expanding just beneath its thighs. You remember feeling overwhelmed by its beauty, holding Namjoon’s hand tighter as you shared your amazement with him. Your fascination was short lived, though, because soon the price tag scared you away and you made yourself forget about that overpriced dream. 

Until that night, that was. Namjoon told you he had the gift ready to go before it all went down with the shipment situation, and the image of you wearing it was one of the few things that managed to keep him sane for so long. The glimmer of happiness in his eyes was enough for you to silence yourself before you could argue about the dress’ ostentatious price, instead choosing to thank him. 

You changed in the large bathroom of your master suite, eyes lost in the way the red shade, pure as sin, clung to your body like it was made for you. There was a wave of love gushing out of your heart, a joyfulness that only came from those little surprises that Namjoon would give you. You loved it. You loved him. 

“God,” Namjoon mumbled to himself when you stepped out of the bathroom, his figure sitting on the corner of your large bed. There was a moment of silence as his eyes ran all over your body, trying to memorize every little detail of you, his mind going blank and his mouth dropping in awe. “I might as well fall to my knees and ask for your hand in marriage now.”

You giggled, stepping closer to the bed. “Careful, I might say yes,” you told him, placing your arms around his shoulders. Namjoon looked up at you with so much devotion that you thought you could collapse at any given point. “I loved it. Thank you, Joon.”

He hummed, taking his large palms to rest on either side of your waist. You could feel his heat emanating through the fabric of the dress, sending waves of anticipation up and down your body. “I’m glad you did,” he spoke, his voice much lower than before. You knew Namjoon enough to know exactly what he was thinking, and there was nothing you wanted more than that. “My girl is so pretty…”

His lips were on your neck soon after, nipping and sucking your skin like they were made for that. Namjoon’s hands were trying to explore everywhere at the same time, moving from to your breasts to your waist, then back down your thighs and up your hips and toward your ass — where he placed a strong grip. 

“So fucking pretty… all mine,” he was speaking to himself at that point, his breath heavy around your collarbones. Namjoon tugged at the sides of the dress, completely ignoring the zipper as he tried to take it off of you. 

You laughed at his eagerness. “Careful with the dress, Joon.” 

“I’ll buy you another one.” He tugged at the fabric again, harder that time, and you were afraid that he was actually going to tear it in half if you didn’t act soon. “I’ll buy you any dress you want, don’t care if I ruin this one.” 

“I don’t want any other dresses, though.” Your hands left his shoulders and moved up your back, finding the zipper and swiftly pulling it down. Soon enough, the dress was just a pool of redness circling your feet. “I just want you.” 

Namjoon swallowed hard at the image of your bare body in full display for him — he should’ve known you wouldn’t wear any underwear with that piece of sin, and he couldn’t say that he was disappointed. All that it took you was one glimpse at his pants to see his hard cock already straining against the fabric, needy for you. 

“So beautiful,” he said, reaching out to place his hand on your hip. Namjoon’s eyes were everywhere at once, drinking you up. You knew he was holding back, he could flip you over and fuck you into the mattress at any second he wished to. “Is this all for me, baby?” 

“Yes,” you told him, taking his hand and guiding it to your breast. Namjoon squeezed the soft flesh, making you whimper at the feeling. “All yours, Joon.” 

“All mine,” he repeated, finally breaking out of his trance and meeting your stare. Namjoon was probably stressed out of his mind, and you just managed to turn all that negative energy into pure sexual stamina. Not that you were complaining. “Want you to lay down for me, baby.” 

You did not hesitate to do as he requested, moving around the large circular bed and placing your head against the soft pillows. There was a fire of expectation burning at the pit of your stomach and accumulating between your thighs, which only grew as you watched your boyfriend undress for you. 

Namjoon was quick and objective with his movements and soon enough he was naked, his golden skin shining under the warm lights and his big cock standing erect and flushed, ready for you. Just by looking at him you could feel your walls clenching, a sigh perishing on your lips at the memory of his member inside you, stretching you out like no one else could. Your boyfriend didn’t only have one of the biggest dicks you had ever seen, but he also knew how to use it — a dangerous combination that mostly explained why you couldn’t walk straight after a good night by his side. Again: not that you were complaining. 

The mattress dipped under his weight, your eyes following his movements as Namjoon placed himself between your legs. His eyes were hungry and focused, more than you had seen in a while, and when he commanded you to “Open your legs for me, love,” you couldn’t obey fast enough. 

Namjoon hummed in content as he leaned down between your thighs, one finger lazily dragging upwards between your soaked folds. He barely touched you, but you were so on the edge that the motion was enough to make you sigh. “Such a pretty cunt,” he said, and the finger moved back down, tenderly rubbing around your sensitive entrance. You flinched at the feeling, biting on your lip to suppress a moan. “So wet for me. Did you touch yourself while I was gone, baby?” 

There was no reason to lie, he would know regardless. “Yes, but only once.” 

It was true: after Namjoon had stopped contacting you, you were so scared that you didn’t even think about anything sexual — nor were you in the right mindset for that. 

He seemed to like your response, humming for a moment before he took a second digit to your entrance — never going in, though, only teasing its surroundings. “Was it good, baby?” 

You knew exactly what he wanted to hear, “Not as good as you,” you said, leaning on your elbows so you could hold his gaze better. Namjoon was looking at you like a starved man, and you knew it was just a matter of time before his own self-control ran thin. “Your cock is so much better.” 

He chuckled — a deep, melodious chuckle that sent heat straight to your core. “Needy girl,” he said, gaze flickering towards your face. “I can’t give it to you just like that. What’s the fun in doing something so fast? You have to earn my cock.” 

Patience was not a virtue you shared with your boyfriend, though, and that was why Namjoon loved to push you to the limits of your self-restraints. You had been foolish to think that things would be different just because he missed you. “How?” You asked, ready to do whatever he asked. 

Namjoon hummed, pretending to think for a moment. His fingers left your opening behind and he moved closer to your pussy, taking a long look at it before saying, “Cum on my tongue and I’ll think about giving it to you.” 

Before you could even think about what to respond, his mouth was on you and your head was spinning. Namjoon repeated the same motions of his fingers — licking a thick stripe up your folds and then back down, protruding the wet muscle against your entrance, swirling his tongue around it. You whimpered at the feeling, body crashing against the bed and fingers intertwining on his hair as he decided to move back up, lips wrapping around your clit as he gave you a gentle suck, humming when you started to moan out his name. 

“Right there, please,” you asked, your voice nothing but a pathetic plea. 

Namjoon, however, was marching to the beat of his own drum. He ignored your request and neglected your clit so his mouth could return to your opening, this time allowing his tongue inside you, drinking every drop of wetness you were giving him. A tremulous breath got caught in your throat when he pressed two of his fingers on your hole, coating it with his saliva before plunging in. 

You cried out, your back arching off the mattress as he continued with his ministrations; his fingers stretching you out as his mouth returned to play with your clit. Namjoon had you the way he liked it: a hot mess sprawled on the bed, seeking your high like it was the most important thing in the world. And he, of course, wouldn’t mind giving it to you as many times as you wanted it. 

The sounds you were making were lewd, mixing with the noises of his fingers pumping in and out of your clenching heat. Namjoon was only human: his cock was so hard that he was losing his mind, and the gorgeous sight of you fumbling under his touches was making him wish you could just cum so he could fuck the soul out of you. 

And because you two were in sync, that was exactly what you did. Namjoon watched in awe as you came around his digits, tightening around him so perfectly that he swore he was about to spill himself on his pristine white sheets. But he managed to keep it together as you continued to roll your pussy against his face, milking the last drops of your orgasm as your wetness dripped down his fingers. 

Namjoon moved away when you started to produce those high-pitched whimpers that signaled your sensitivity. He climbed up over you and crashed his lips on yours, humming as your tongues danced together, filling your mouth with your own taste. His cock was enlarged and heavy against your lower body, barely brushing on your sensitive clit. 

He pulled away so he could speak, his voice was a devilish low groan swimming in the hot air. “Want my cock inside you, baby?”

You were spent already, both of you knew that, and yet there was no hesitation in your tone when you promptly answered with a timid, “Yes, please.”

No matter how much you loved Namjoon’s mouth and fingers on you, there was nothing in the world that could compare to the feeling of having his cock thrusting inside you, filling you up so perfectly. You could fight against a bit of pain, you had done that a few times already, and you knew how fast your boyfriend was to turn everything back into pleasure. 

“Can you cum again for me?” He asked, lowering his hand so he could align himself with your pussy. You swallowed at the brushing of his head against your hole, heartbeat quickening in anticipation. “Can you do one more, baby?” 

You nodded, looking deep inside his eyes. “Yes, as many times as you want.” 

“I don’t deserve you,” Namjoon spoke gently, honest as ever. He leaned in and kissed you slowly, savoring the caresses of your lips as he sighed against the kiss. “You’re too good for me.” 

And then he was pushing himself inside you, spreading you open like he was meant to be there, filling you up to the brim. You heaved and held to his shoulders as Namjoon reached incredibly deep inside you, getting used to his size. No matter how many times he fucked you, every time still felt like the first. 

“Fuck, your pussy feels perfect, like it was made for me,” he cursed, slowly thrusting inside you. You whimpered at the delicious drag of his cock against your walls, already experiencing the switch of pain to pleasure. “Keep your legs up for me, baby.”

You could only nod, pushing your legs to the level of your chest. That small change was enough to give Namjoon just a bit more space to slip into, a grunt exploding on his throat. 

“Joon,” you called. Namjoon looked up at you, his eyes dazed and unfocused. “Fuck me, please.” 

That was all that he needed. Self-control long forgotten, Namjoon buried his face on the crook of your neck and went to town — fucking you so fast and hard that you swore you had never moaned so loud in your life. Suddenly, everything was becoming too much: the bouncing of your breasts, the pressure of his hands on your thighs, the drilling of his hard cock inside you. Every worry you had those past few weeks were washed away just like that, barely an echo at the bottom of your head. 

Namjoon was a mess above you, grunting and moaning out as his cock fucked you open, your walls clenching around him like you were his personal brand of heaven. “Fuck, you feel so tight,” he cried out, already recognizing that familiar pressure at the base of his spine. “Such a perfect pussy for me, baby.” 

“Feels so good, Joon,” you said back, tugging at his hair. “Look at me.” 

It seemed to take him an herculean amount of force, but Namjoon did as you requested, meeting that fucked-out gaze he adored so much. “What is it?” 

You smiled tenderly at him, a timid moan falling from your lips. “I love you.” 

Now Namjoon was absolutely sure that he was in paradise, floating in the clouds above. He could not hold back the smile that crossed his face. “I love you too, baby.” He kissed you. “Are you close?” 

You nodded. “Really close.” 

“Cum on my cock for me, then,” he urged you on, not stopping with his advances. He felt so good inside you; your mind was consumed by all of him: his smell, his warmth, the deepness of his voice and the lust in his gaze. At that moment, Namjoon was everything in the world for you. “Come on, I wanna feel it.” 

And you did as he requested, clenching around his cock not even two minutes later. You sobbed and whimpered at the feeling, calling out his name again and again until Namjoon found his own high, spilling himself inside you, milking his cock in your pussy until you were full of him. He thrusted a few more times, trying to make that moment last a bit longer, and he only stopped once he started to grow soft inside you. 

Namjoon turned around and crashed next to you on the mattress, his arm curling around your waist as you fumbled closer to him. With a happy sigh, you nestled against his chest, drowning in his warmth as his fingers caressed your skin. 

The instant of peace was glorious, and you had almost started to drift away into a tranquil sleep when his voice broke the silence. “I’m gonna have to travel again next week,” he said. 

Your heart started hammering against your chest, stomach curling in anxiety. You raised your head from his chest and stared at Namjoon, your lips opening and closing before you finally found your voice. “But… You just got home.”

“I know, that’s why you’re coming with me.” He smirked. You must’ve shown him the most confused expression, because Namjoon could not hold back his laugh. “It’s not business, baby, don’t worry. You and I are just going to have some well-deserved time together. How does that sound?” 

Relief washed over you for the second time that night, calming your anxiety instantly. “Amazing,” you admitted, resting yourself back against him. You could really use a vacation, you didn’t know the last time you had a proper one. And even better if it was with him. “Thank you, Joon.”

“I should be the one thanking you.” He breathed out. The caresses on your skin were calling the sleepiness back into your body, and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you floated into the land of dreams. It has been a long time since you had a proper night of sleep — you had been too restless waiting for his return. “I know this is really hard for you. You know I’d understand if you wanted to leave.” 

You smiled lovingly, placing a kiss against his chest. “It’s worth it if it’s for you,” you mumbled. 

And you knew he felt the same. 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Targets - ao3

- Chapter 4 -

Jiang Yanli wasn’t sure her parents had ever agreed on anything, ever, in her life, but they were in complete accord now that Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng were missing.

Admittedly, that was the only thing they agreed on – that they were missing, not dead, not dead – but it was a good start.

It had all started when that strange woman with the very ordinary face had arrived, she thought. It’d been late when she first arrived, after Jiang Yanli’s parents had stopped receiving audiences; they’d asked her to wait until morning and then got busy and didn’t receive her until nearly midday, even though the woman had been pacing around anxiously in the waiting hall. And then there was a whole lot of arguing before finally they sent out some disciples to go check –

The disciples returned, pale-faced, and reported on what they’d found: a pool with signs of swimming, a spilled but empty lunchbox, and the bodies of seven men, covered in cloaks to suggest an identity as rogue cultivators but wearing Wen sect insignia underneath.

No sign of Wei Wuxian or Jiang Cheng.

Everything had very quickly gone to shouting after that.

Jiang Yanli was worried, too, of course, but she was only thirteen and a poor cultivator besides, average in every respect – looks, skills, power �� and no one ever listened to her; she knew she couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t give orders to go search with a solemn expression that she’d never before seen on her father’s face, eyes filled with panic and shoulders bowed with premature grief, the worst result already expected even as he denied the possibility of it; she couldn’t stalk around with so much rage that it felt like the onset of a thunderstorm like her mother, making sure that everyone was doing everything they could. She could only wait patiently by the gate to see if anyone came back.

Maybe it was her patience paying off, or maybe it was just luck, but she was the first one to see the cultivator arrive, late into the night. It wasn’t very ceremonious – he didn’t announce himself or anything, just swooped down with his saber until it was close to the ground, released the bundles he was holding in his arms, took a step forward and then collapsed onto his knees, face pale.

“Da-ge!” four voices shouted, distressed, and two of them were extremely familiar.

Jiang Yanli jumped to her feet and rushed forward, still disbelieving but overwhelmingly joyous. “A-Cheng! A-Xian!”

“Jiejie!” “Shijie!” they shouted, and she was so happy to see them, so happy, but they didn’t seem anywhere near as worried as she’d been; instead, they started talking at the same time. “You have to get someone, he’s used up too much spiritual energy –” “I can’t believe he carried us that far, and back, and after such a long trip, too –” “And a fight! Maybe he got injured?” “Impossible! But we should get a doctor just in case –” “Yes, and soup – shijie, can you make some –”

“Enough,” the cultivator rasped, lifting his hands to his face and rubbing it. He looked exhausted. “Thank you for your concern, all of you. I will see Sect Leader Jiang first.”

“It won’t make for much of a talk if you fall over!” one of the children she didn’t recognize said – the younger one, about her brothers’ ages, face full of baby fat. “Meng-gege, you’re older, tell him –”

The remaining child was about her age, if she had to guess, although he was short and looked gentle.

“Nie-gongzi is right,” he murmured – his accent sounded more Yunmeng than Qinghe, even if the oversized outer layer he was wearing looked more like Qinghe Nie than anything else. It probably belonged to the cultivator that had brought him, judging from the size. “You will not be able to make your case if you are unconscious.”

“I’m fine,” the cultivator insisted, and staggered up to his feet. “There’s no time, there’s still Lanling –”

There was no way this cultivator was flying all the way to Lanling.

“My parents will see you,” she interrupted. “They’ll be very happy to see A-Cheng and A-Xian are all right.”

They were, too, and Jiang Yanli assumed that only pride kept them from running over to grab them into an embrace – Jiang Cheng did run to their mother, and Wei Wuxian followed close behind to go beam at her father – but they were very puzzled to see the cultivator.

“Sect Leader Nie?” Jiang Yanli’s father said, and Jiang Yanli blinked: was that who her brothers’ savior was? “What are you doing here?”

“I received information,” he said. “Regarding the Wen sect –”

“We heard something similar,” Jiang Yanli’s mother said shortly, and glared at her husband.

“Unfortunately, we initially disregarded the warning of our spy,” he admitted. “And then we found the Wen sect cultivators’ bodies…your doing, I take it?”

Sect Leader Nie looked embarrassed for a moment, but then squared his shoulders. “Yes,” he said. “I was flying in to speak with you when I saw the attack taking place, and intervened.”

“They were coming at us with their swords!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed. “There was one right in front of my face, and then da-ge dropped down from the sky with his saber and – bam! Woosh! Urk!”

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Yanli’s mother snapped, though not as harshly as usual. It was almost long-suffering rather than cross. “Have some respect for Sect Leader Nie!”

“It’s fine,” Sect Leader Nie said. “I don’t mind. Are you prepared for invasion?”

“Invasion?” Jiang Yanli’s father said, frowning. “You think –”

“Wen Ruohan had given orders that the sect heirs of all the Great Sects be kidnapped or killed, not to mention your ward here and a few sundry others,” Sect Leader Nie said. “What is that if not a declaration of outright war? Surely he’d know that such a move, if successful, would lead to us all declaring war on him – he must have a next move planned out already.”

Jiang Yanli’s parents exchanged looks.

Sect Leader Nie pretended (badly) not to see it. “I’ve activated defenses in the Unclean Realm,” he said stiffly. “As you know, I’ve always thought…well. At any rate, we’ve made plenty of preparations, and they’re being put into action now. If it would be convenient, I was thinking of sheltering some of the targets there – I’ve already invited the Lan boys – and it would be no difficulty to have yours as well.”

He’d already assumed that they wouldn’t be prepared, Jiang Yanli thought, and saw her parents hear that unspoken message as well. He’d known they wouldn’t take the threat seriously and acted accordingly, and it was only due to his decisiveness that her brothers were still alive.

Her parents looked at each other again, gazes full of meaning.

“Very well,” Jiang Yanli’s father said after a long moment, voice heavy. “I will have to prevail upon your kindness, Sect Leader Nie.”

“Think nothing of it,” Sect Leader Nie said, and then frowned. “My concern is in regard to Lanling Jin...they have closer ties to Qishan Wen than either of us, and may discount the information, especially if it comes from me –”

“I’ll go,” Jiang Yanli’s mother said at once. “Madame Jin is my childhood friend. She will listen to me, provided it’s not already too late.”

Sect Leader Nie’s eyes flickered, but he didn’t say anything, just nodded. “He may as well come to the Unclean Realm as well,” he said. “Lanling City is large and Jinlin Tower spacious and luxurious, but there are many holes through which a snake might burrow.”

“I’ll bring him,” Jiang Yanli’s mother said. “Yanli can come with me.”

Jiang Yanli looked up, surprised. “Me?”

“You’re an heir, too,” her mother said. “You might not have been on the list, but you’re still at risk, especially if there’s going to be a war – greater risk, even. Anyway, Madame Jin will be more inclined to send her son to a safe place if she thought it was a way to build ties.”

The Jin sect heir was Jiang Yanli’s future fiancé. She supposed it was a good idea to meet him – and at least this way, she’d be going to the Unclean Realm with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, rather than staying behind.

“You should get something warm to wear,” Wei Wuxian advised her. “It’s cold when you fly!”

Jiang Yanli had developed her golden core just this year, right on schedule, so she doubted it, but she appreciated his consideration.

“Really cold,” the child in Nie sect colors said – the smaller one, since the older child, the Yunmeng one, was doing his best impression of a transparent plane of glass. “And we’ve been flying forever – we flew all night to get here from home, you know, and that was before da-ge fought seven Wen sect cultivators. And then we had to fly even more! Someone said something about soup. I want soup!”

“You should rest,” Jiang Yanli’s father said to Sect Leader Nie, abruptly sounding concerned. “Do you or any of yours require a doctor..?”

“Something to eat and some rest will be sufficient,” Sect Leader Nie said, which was probably a lie. “I’ll want to head out first thing in the morning, traveling by flight – I know it’s uncomfortable for the young ones, but I want to be back at my sect as soon as possible. You can send any additional luggage after us by horse.”

There was more talking then - mostly about how crazy Sect Leader Nie was to think he could make such a long flight with so many children, and, when he insisted, making him promise he’d take many breaks along the way - but luckily not much, and then there was saluting and Jiang Yanli was being swept away by her mother to go to Lanling City.

She knew it was wrong to be excited by the prospect of war, but she couldn’t help it. What an adventure!

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Monstrous Secrets Chapter 10

Eris Vanserra x reader

Word Count: 934

Summary: The first battle and Azriel.

Everything was so overwhelmingly loud. Between the shouting, screaming, and the clanging metal you could hardly hear yourself think. Good thing your fighting skills were all muscle memory by now.

You fought mainly by taking to the air and diving down upon unsuspecting Hybern soldiers, an effectively uncommon strategy that few ever saw coming. Within minutes of the battle starting, you were covered in the blood of the dozens of soldiers already butchered by your blade and by your siphon. You may not have had Cassian’s overwhelming power, but it was rare that males like these expected such brutality from a female, and you never hesitated to use that to your advantage. 

And then blinding pain shot through your left wing as an arrow pierced through the dark membrane there. It was only by the skin of your teeth that you managed to land near Keir’s Darkbringers instead of in the middle of Hybern’s ranks.

There was no time to assess the wound since, despite the proximity to your allies, several enemy eyes landed on you the second you touched ground. They quickly became familiar with your sword and the uncommonly large claw atop your good wing as you used both to slice their unprotected throats. By the time you had them handled, an unsteady hush fell over the battlefield.

This fight, it seemed, was won.

~

So used to dealing with your own injuries, you didn’t bother to seek aid in the medical tent. They were busy dealing with more critical cases anyway, and you didn’t need the others mothering you over something you could patch up just fine on your own. You’d retreated to your private tent as quickly as you could after the brief meeting with Rhysand’s Inner Circle, wings clenched painfully tight against your back to hide the wound within the membrane folds.

Teeth gritting the entire time, you shed the upper half of your armor in favor of a sleeveless, cream tunic but didn’t bother to wash yet; it’d be pointless given the blood that would shed while you were stitching the hole. Besides, you needed to give that wound as much time as possible to close before the next battle.

You had thread between your teeth and a cloth to the still-bleeding wound when Azriel of all people strode in like you’d invited him. “As you can see, I’m in no mood to argue with you, Shadowsinger,” you snarled around what would soon become sutures.

“Rhysand sent me to check on you.” No doubt because you’d left so fast, and because the two of you hadn’t gotten along since the whole Eris thing came to light.

“Wanted us to talk, more like.” Your voice was strained as you started sewing the skin back together.

He said nothing.

“If you’re--ugh--expecting me to apologize about who my husband is, then you’ll--ah!--be here until we’re both naught but ash.”

Still, science. Not out of the ordinary for Azirel, but under the circumstances it made your skin crawl. “How could I not notice?” was what he finally managed to ask, so quietly you almost couldn’t hear him over the pain induced pounding of your own heart.

You didn’t look up from your work. “Because Eris has a lifetime or five filled with avoiding his own father’s spies, and I know you well enough to stay in your blind spots.” It really was just that simple.

He hesitated. “Let me help,” he requested, those scarred hands reaching out for your tools. 

“I’d rather like to keep my wings, so thanks but no thanks.” Perhaps you were cruel to imply that he’d go so far as to clip your wings, but you just couldn’t trust him after the way he’d been acting. To put it plainly, it dredged up too many bad memories, and your current state wasn’t exactly one that inspired a lot of warm, fuzzy feelings.

“I would never--”

“And I don’t care, Azriel.” You sighed, hands falling to your lap as you looked up at him. “I’ve seen how you look at me now. Like I’m a monster for being with the man that let the woman you love get hurt.” You ignored the way he flinched at his feelings being stated so plainly. “But Eris wasn’t the one that hurt her, and neither was I. We were all trapped by our bad choices, but I’m past caring if you forgive me. Mor is the one I’ll let judge me, and she’s the only one. You are nothing but a reminder of why I hid myself from the lot of you for so long.” A scoff forced its way out of your throat. “Even now I can see the disgust in your eyes and the way your shadows are writhing like they want to hurt me.”

His eyes visibly widened in shock.

“You’re not the only one that can read them, even if I can’t control them.”

“You’re right,” he admitted after a moment. “I can’t forgive you.”

“So be it.” If you weren’t in so much pain, you might have been saddened by his words. As he was slipping back out into the night you told him, “If you want to do anything for me tonight, don’t tell them about any of this.” He was smart enough to know that ‘them’ meant any of the rest of your little found family. “They don’t have time to worry about me right now on top of everything else.”

He only nodded, and when he was gone, you knew that you’d likely just lost him as a friend forever.

Cauldron, you missed Eris.

[scott-mccall-the-hot-girl]

theodore raeken: missing persons

( okay so i kinda had an idea ,, and then went through the whole teen wolf timeline to see if it would work ,, so here it is !!

theo’s backstory !! it started off way more messy headcannon format & then it got kinda a real story vibe ,, def thinking about making it an ao3 one shot eventually )

-

TW: very sad & hurt my feelings

don't imagine:

eight year old theo raeken...

who sleeps at his best friend scott mccall's house almost every single night, stiles is almost always there too.

theo and his friends where they all watch movies together until ungodly hours of the morning. stiles loved star wars, theo will never forget that. they had gone as luke, han and chewy for halloween that previous year. melissa went as leia. scott has always been more of a indiana jones fan himself. theo would watch either, anywhere where harrison ford was theo didn't mind being.

in this little trio, who were all raised in the mccall house, where they were given eveything they needed. sometimes when theo thought about her, when he needed to remember the good things in life. he never quite knew how she managed. expecially with scott's dad who floated in and out of the picture.

yet, it always was melissa who gave scott extra lunches to take to school because theo and his sister, who were often forgotten by their parents usually were left to fend for themselves and a fourteen year old girl rarely had the funds or mind to give a growing boy a nutritious lunch. these packed lunches always with the crust off because that's the way theo liked it. melissa always remembered.

theo had three favorite places: scott's bedroom, the corner next to his bed where theo's blow up mattress was. the bridge in which tara and he crossed everyday on their way back to raekens from school. his final place was actually beacon hills elementary.

theo always liked school. theo was good at school. he didn't realize this until mellisa had pointed out an exceptional report card. he didn't think it was much of anything to be proud of.

he liked recognizing big words from english class and novels that would help him when his mom watched jeopardy. she would watch the show every night. sitting in a daze in the raekens dark living room. not paying much mine to the eight year old, until he started blurting out the answers to her favorite show. she beamed at him. he loved his mother's smile, she had the same dimples as tara.

so yeah, when a seventeen year old theo raeken spent months filing the names of anyone ever involved in the mccall pack, current members, deceased and ones that just fell out of beacon hills. he remebered some names.

theo raeken grew up in beacon hills, and beacon hill wasn't to big of a town.

theo rembered issac lahey a quiet boy who had been in his thrid grade class, jackson whittemore who was a grade older than them and everyone knew him because he was was offered a spot on the middle school lacross team, he knew erica reyes who he rembered for her epilepsy and it made him hate himself a little less for being the king of the heart condition, he even remebered names like derek hale- who was in the same grade as tara. theo even rembered the name malia tate as she was small girl who did go to beacon hills elementary, who was always startled and always walked a bit faster than everyone else through the halls. or even lydia martin, a girl stiles had a crush on. she talked to theo a lot, lydia used to call him teddy, he didn't know when it started but he let her do it purely to spite the fact that lydia gave theo a nickname and never bothered to acknowledge stiles.

theo rembered all of them, i mean for years of his life all he had to rely on was his memory to make sure it was real.

though during the line memories turned bitter and he was left with the sour taste of resentment.

so it was weird to think despite it all, that year was one of theo's best. he never felt like he belonged. sure he had scott and stiles before but gaining friendship & being labeled as an "inseparable trio" by the sheriff station deputies, whenever they rang havoc through their office made theo's mouth crack a toothy grin. he felt like he had a family.

that was until the air started getting colder in beacon hills. theo started hearing the voices. though, even so much later in life he never could quite pin point how it started, like his brain couldn't truly decipher what was going on. some of it felt like dream, though the dreams and the thoughts. sometimes they didn't feel like his own and made him so scared he would leave the day feeling nauseous.

though this all came in spurts. his birthday was that november, and that was magical. he spent the weekend with stiles and scott, theo's mom actually made the point to bring the three of them bowling. the boys pitched in on buying theo a big millennium falcon lego set because he was always doing things with his hands, something he picked up not being so most athletic of the bunch. they also got him big poster of han solo just to spite him. he blushed and yelled at them for stupid gifts but they knew by the smile on his face he loved them.

he loved so much because despite the fact that they were poking fun at him ever so lightly, they were good natured and they held thought. they really thought about theo enough to know what he liked. he never had that before.

so the voices started getting louder again around christmas time. it was weird for theo, the happiest time of the year filled him with such excessive dread. it didn't feel right. theo's life changed that month.

then one day scott and stiles get sit down because something tragic happened. tara raeken is dead. the details are fuzzy and they don't really understand how, seeing as these boys are just in fourth grade. they are horrified, it's one of the only other times they've experienced death besides with stiles mom. though claudia stilinksi was sick, sometimes sick people die. learning about tara left a bad taste in their mouth. she was young.

they try and call, bike past is his house. they don't hear from him. they go to her funeral, scott and stiles, high on anxiety attached to their parents just trying to sneak a peak of where their best friends may be. he's gone, that's the conclusion they come to, he's gone. they don't know how it could have happened, they just know that he isn't there. why wouldn't he be there?

they try and talk to the raekens but haunted by their daughters death, they paid less attention to theo than before. they barley give them a straight answer, melissa explains what grief can do to a family and not to blame them but is equally suspicious.

just take a minute to think, while scott and stiles are scared and searching for their best friend, theo raeken, barley nine years old is given a heart transplant. alone in a dark and cold sewer hidden deep under beacon hills, horrified and a failure, that's what the dread doctors tell him. a boy who keeps quiet, does what needs to be done and has to survive. doing absolutely everything he can to be kept around, the second he heals (which theo recognizes is abnormally fast) the doctors are straight out of beacon hills.

the doctors eventually find his parents too, who leave beacon hills, he doesn't exactly know what happened to them. he doesn't everything he can not to think about the possibilities. he hopes he has a chance, survival instincts flourish but the ideal of living isn't quite the same as surviving.

one day, the doctors inform him he has absolutely nothing to go back to, he figured this he just be didn't think they would actually tell him. they never told him much.

they are far away from beacon hills- much farther than he assumed. he has no sister, and his parents are gone.

he is alone, and he is finding out that now, he has one more secret to hide. the poor boy has claw and fangs and often thinks about using them to rip himself apart, i mean he deserves it right? he just watched his sister die, to go down with the last living part of her, his own heart.

while theo is expecting his fate, stiles and scott and stuck in months of confusion. missing posters of the boys face are strung up everywhere they can reach, once his parents are gone. they know they need to do everything they can.

mellisa feels like she's been punched in the gut, so she helps her boys. she calls every hospital in the county, and then she starts reaching out to some of the bigger hospitals in the state. spreading word of a missing nine year old like wildfire. she spends nights after her shift arguing with noah stilinksi, he has been looking to. he tries to bargain logic with her.

"yeah it's strange he never said goodbye, he wasnt at the funeral- it's weird, yes, but his parents left too. their daughter just died melissa. maybe they didn't want to stay."

melissa knows, yeah that makes sense. theo had to of just moved with the raekens but something about it doesn't feel like it makes sense.

he would have said goodbye to her. she knows it.

other people in beacon hills were actually thinking the same thing, something wasn’t quite making sense.

those other people being some who can sense unrest in supernatural frequencies. a family who makes it their business to monitor the supernatural. the hales.

though, talia hales supernatural concerns didn't often revolve around fourteen year old girls who drown, shes curious. the girl, was in dereks grade. the mother in her falters but it doesn't get strange until the police reports reveal the fact that the girls heart was gone, she was found. gaping chest wound, lying in the river.

so she starts to suspect somethings wrong. she's seen the raekens case, something about it doesn't make sense. sure, the death of a teenage girl is overwhelmingly tragic but there isn't much to investigate. though talk of the raekens is getting loud, she comes to find out this is because of the raekens youngest, who was nowhere to be seen days before the funeral.

she knows the hunters are back in beacon hills. so wonders if the two correlate. so she starts asking questions.

talia, with her daughter in tow see two boys standing outside the sheriffs station, stopping people when they walk in to show they a poster. it's theo raekens missing poster, though there isn't much official about it. it seems like the sheriffs department couldn't issue anything official, so as she walks up to the boys seemed to have made dozens of copies themselves. there information seems formal enough.

she catches their anxiety heighten as talia hands the poster over to laura who stands behind her.

the taller one raises a brow, "have you seen him anywhere miss?"

she smiles, "miss hale- you can call me talia though. this is my daughter laura. we haven't seen your friend but we'd like to help..."

the taller boy nods, "well, i'm scott. that's stiles. how could you help?"

talia hale lies easily, "i've heard about what happened to the raekens and it sparked my concern. i have a friend, local sheriffs station who is awfully good with the police dogs. if you have anything that your friend owned i might be able to call i'm a favor."

a few days later, stiles had found her in the same spot as last time with a small black sweater. she smiled and told him she would do her best to help these two boys. not sure if her intrest in the case was supernatural based or because she didn't want these boys, who smelled like anxiety and exhaustion to fall down the hole of loss themselves. she wasn't sure where investigating theo’s disappearance themselves would leave them, she didn't want them getting caught up in the supernatural spiderweb of beacon hills.

though, talia hale looses scent and momentum on the case. literally and metaphorically. she finds herself near some suspicious tunnels, leading right under beacon hills but scent falls short. she's frustrated, and the time since his disappearance is lengthening but her families needs become increasingly concerning.

she's listens, she likes to know what's going on. so when she hears her sixteen year old whispering a bit more with her kid brother she raises suspicion. she doesn't trust peter like she used to, not after getting involved with the desert wolf.

paige dies months after that, dereks heartbroken and talia is trying to put together pieces of a story that turned her babies eyes blue. to young. beacon hills doesn't quite understand how another student is dead, with no previous medical history. this, the death of paige she knows is supernatural.

kate argent moves to town and in months, the hale house is burned to the ground. inside, theo raekens black sweater. tucked away in a room, where news clippings and missing posters caught fire the fastest.

so with no surprise, another tragedy is unleashed and it's the talk of the town. memory of theo starts to fade, like most things do in beacon hills. it's not anybodies fault but it still stings. though, theo million miles away hasn't felt much of anything latley.

it's been a little over a year. he hasn't cried in the past three months. he won't let himself. nobody is going to find him. he isn't going to het out. so he puts up his walls, as many as he can. he just has to stay alive a little bit longer. make something worth taras sacrifice. they had started to kill off more of the chimeras, more of their science experiments. he can't get killed, he can't do that to tara.

theo was always a fast learner. theo always liked school. theo was good at school. this wasnt exactly the same as math class at beacon hills elementary but he was picking up skills quickly. theo didn't quite recognize himself after that year. he wasn't that same boy, and that had to suite him just fine. he never had much of a choice in this. he just chose to try and keep her heart beating for as long as he could.

so theo raeken adjusted, he had to.

[makeste]

is it too late now to say sorry

anon I agree with almost all of this for the most part, but if you don’t mind I would like to come to Kacchan’s defense here a little bit. while he absolutely does need to apologize to Izuku, there are reasons why he hasn’t done so yet which boil down to a lot more than simply “he’s still a dick.”

anyway, so for my next trick, I will take the thesis statement of “Kacchan is afraid to apologize to Deku for both selfish and unselfish reasons, and Deku doesn’t realize how much he needs to hear the apology because he pays no attention to his own needs”, and somehow transform that into a 3500 word rant lol.

first of all, I’ve said this before, but on the topic of whether or not Katsuki actually needs to apologize to Deku at all, my answer is an emphatic “yes.” is it necessary in order for him to earn Deku’s forgiveness? no. in fact I’m pretty sure Deku has already forgiven him. because that kid doesn’t have a petty bone in his body (not that wanting an apology from your friend who basically turned on you and made your life miserable for ten years and told you to go kill yourself is in any way petty at all), and because he has staunchly held on to what he could of their relationship throughout that entire time, hoping that one day they could somehow be friends again. Kacchan never stopped being “Kacchan” to him. Deku never stopped caring about him. and that goes beyond him simply being a good person; there’s also just an attachment there, for lack of a better word, that he is simply unwilling to give up. their friendship is that important to him. Kacchan is that important to him.

but just because Katsuki is almost guaranteed forgiveness from Izuku doesn’t mean the apology isn’t still owed. putting aside that it’s really the least he could do, I think an apology is also necessary in order for their friendship to ever move past the level it’s currently stuck at, for one simple reason: Izuku doesn’t actually know that Katsuki cares.

more specifically, he doesn’t know that Katsuki actually cares about him. because Katsuki, for various reasons which I’ll get to momentarily, has done such a spectacular job of hiding this fact that he even fooled a lot of us for a very long time. before chapter 284 came along, there was hardly any evidence at all that Katsuki actually cared about Izuku as a person beyond just the requisite, bare minimum level of “well I don’t actually want you to die or anything, because I’m not a complete shithead.”

because he hides it. and he hides it on purpose, which is a mind-blowing revelation I’m still only just starting to wrap my head around. it’s an act. all of his continued hostility toward Izuku since the Endeavor internship arc -- and possibly going even further back than that; possibly going all the way back to their second Ground Beta fight -- has been an act. here he is, continuing to bitch at him at every turn and basically doing everything he can to remind Izuku that They Are Rivals And Nothing More, and he has played that role so perfectly that hardly anyone suspected what was actually going on.

he cares about Izuku. not just subconsciously on a level where he’s in denial about it, but to a fully conscious and aware degree. he’s dedicated himself to helping Izuku as his way of trying to make amends. that’s a decision he consciously made, something he’s given a lot of thought to. he worries about Izuku. he worries about his selflessness and his recklessness and that one day he’ll take it too far and it will go terribly wrong. he worries about One For All and All For One, and about the legacy his friend has inherited that’s so much bigger than him, and which he knows Izuku won’t hesitate to sacrifice himself for if it ever comes to that. he worries. he cares.

and Izuku does not know this. and he deserves to know this. and that’s why the apology is so important. not because it’s a magic sentence that will miraculously restore the ten years of friendship and trust that was lost between them, or heal the ten years of pain and misery that Izuku went through alone and friendless, because nothing can ever restore or heal that. as a gesture, an apology is nice, but it’s also fairly useless, at least on its own. it’s meaningless without action to support it, and rather pales in significance when held up against the LITERAL DECADE of misery that it’s trying to make up for.

but the reason it’s still so, so important in spite of all this is because Izuku doesn’t know that Katsuki cares about him. he doesn’t know that their friendship isn’t just one-sided. he does know that Katsuki is a good person, and that he has a good core beneath his prickly exterior. and he’s more adept than most people at seeing past Katsuki’s outer shell of bullshit and understanding what lies beneath. but he has a blind spot, and that blind spot is himself.

he hasn’t made the connection between “Kacchan is a good person who cares about other people and is trying to do the right thing” to “Kacchan cares about me.” because Kacchan has been diligent in making sure that every time Izuku does start to make that connection, that he shoots it back down and disproves it as vehemently as he can.

which, just to be clear, is actually a huge load of bull, as we now know. huh.

but anyway. the point is that Katsuki is still hiding this part of himself from Izuku. the fact that he actually cares. the fact that their friendship is reciprocated on a level that goes beyond just rivalry and shared secrets and a mutual admiration for All Might. Izuku doesn’t know yet how much Katsuki cares about him, and he deserves to know.

and that’s why the apology is important. not because the words themselves are important, but because he deserves to know that Katsuki is sorry. he deserves to know that Katsuki cares about him. he deserves to know that he’s valued, that Katsuki sees him as someone who has value. he deserves that. and that, more than anything else, is why the apology is needed, and why it’s important for him to actually hear those words. because Katsuki was spot on when he said that Izuku doesn’t see himself in the way that he should, and I think he needs this to help him understand a little better just how much value he actually has.

so that’s part one of my rant! and now we move on to part two, which can basically be summarized as “okay but then WHY has Katsuki not just FUCKING APOLOGIZED TO HIM ALREADY.” because yeah, though. at the end of the day, this is all on him. and he does care, and he is sorry. so then what is still holding him back??

and that... is complicated. and it basically boils down to four things.

1. it’s insufficient.

ten years. all the way back to when they were four years old and Izuku first learned that he didn’t have a quirk. ten years of Katsuki bullying him and distancing himself from him. ten years of pain and isolation and unhappiness that Izuku absolutely did not deserve.

and yes, it ultimately stemmed from a misunderstanding, but that doesn’t make it right in the least. there’s absolutely no justification for it. Katsuki knew that it was wrong and he acted like that nonetheless. and anyone who says that Izuku in any way brought it on himself, that it’s in any way his fault or that he invited it on himself by not leaving Katsuki alone -- you can miss me with that, tbh. he was a child and he was lonely and confused and didn’t understand why his best friend had suddenly turned his back on him. this was the most vulnerable period in his life, and the person who should have had his back ended up being the person who made it even worse for him instead. and even after Izuku grew out of the so-called stalking and actually did mind his own business, and just admired Katsuki from a distance -- that still wasn’t enough to appease Katsuki either. even just the mere mention of Izuku wanting to go to U.A. was enough to set him off worse than ever before. that was absolutely not Izuku’s fault in any way, and I’m positive that even Katsuki himself would agree. Katsuki was terrible. I can’t emphasize enough just how terrible he was.

so yeah. ten years of that. and now Katsuki finally realizes just how awful it was. and he’s sorry! and he regrets it, a lot, and he wants to atone for it.

but now here’s problem number one: when you put it up in comparison to ALL OF THAT, an apology just feels overwhelmingly inadequate. almost laughably so. and Katsuki may be a bit emotionally dense (although perhaps less so than we always thought), but he’s sharp enough to realize this much, at least. it’s almost pathetic to simply try saying “I’m sorry” after all of that, and expect it to mean anything at all. it’s not enough. it’s so much not enough that I imagine he must almost feel helpless just imagining it. the weight of everything he’s done is so much, and an apology isn’t enough to undo any of it. it’s not even close.

Katsuki isn’t someone who backs down from things easily, but the sheer scale of the mistakes he’s trying to grapple with now is enough to give just about anyone pause. how do you even begin to address something like that? how can you even begin to make up for it? and Katsuki isn’t stupid, and I have to imagine that everything he saw during that first week of interning with Endeavor only cemented this for him. an apology simply isn’t enough. not for something like this.

2. it’s unfamiliar.

reason number two! and this one is a bit selfish on his part, yeah. but Katsuki is still just a kid too. and his falling out with Izuku didn’t only have a negative impact on Izuku; it hurt Katsuki as well. he lost that friendship too. he thought Izuku was looking down on him, and I’m certain that hurt him a lot more than he ever let on. if you trust someone and care about them only to have them turn on you like that (even though he got it wrong and it was ultimately all just in his head) -- that hurts. it’s not a coincidence that he became closed off and mean afterwards, and that even now he’s resistant to letting other people get close to him. for all that it was more or less self-inflicted, it still had a huge impact.

but now he’s learned that Izuku was never looking down on him at all and that he had it wrong this whole time. and as a result, he’s gotten this chance now to try and rebuild the childhood friendship that he almost destroyed. and make no mistake, this is something he wants too. it’s not just Izuku who’s grateful to have this chance to have normal interactions with the other again. this is something both of them value, and Katsuki doesn’t want to ruin it this time.

so he’s picking up where he left off! only the thing is, this involves him reverting to a blueprint that hasn’t been updated since the two of them were four years old, lol. “normal” for them is him being a bossy little snot, and Izuku happily shrugging it off with all of his limitless nerdy enthusiasm as they go about their various misadventures together. it’s a script that hasn’t changed since they were children, and one they’re both still more than content to use, but it is an outdated script nonetheless. Katsuki is playing the role that Izuku expects him to play. and it’s not like he’s being dishonest or anything like that, because that’s still him; he’s still his same old short-tempered, argumentative self, and it’s not like his personality has done a complete 180 or anything like that.

but at the same time, there’s a calmer side to him now which he is deliberately keeping hidden from Izuku because it’s off-script for them. it’s unfamiliar ground. with Izuku, he’s always been this Kacchan:

and again, it’s not like he isn’t actually that person, especially when it comes to his old rival. but at the same time, there’s another side to him that he rarely if ever lets Izuku in particular see. Izuku never sees the quiet Kacchan who avoids other people’s eyes while he fiddles with his water bottle and calmly asks questions about the OFA successors. Izuku never sees the insightful Kacchan who opens up about his own regrets and weaknesses. there’s a level of emotional intimacy, for lack of a better term, that Katsuki has been unwilling to let them cross into. and if I had to guess why, my guess would be that it’s because Katsuki is afraid that changing up the formula now will lead to unfamiliar territory which may or may not end up completely upending their relationship just as it’s starting to grow into something actually solid again.

which brings me to reason #3!

3. he’s afraid.

Katsuki already experienced what it was like to fall out with Izuku. and again, for all that he was the cause of it, and that Izuku had it much, much worse, that doesn’t change the fact that it was a pretty terrible experience for him as well.

and look, we know Katsuki is afraid of losing Izuku. that’s confirmed canon now. he actually admitted that he was worried about Izuku, and that Izuku’s tendency to recklessly disregard his own wellbeing unsettled him and made him want to keep his distance. and he sacrificed himself to save Izuku’s life!! and did it automatically, unthinkingly, because the decision-making on his part was so fast it didn’t even register. that’s how much he cares. enough that his desire to protect Izuku now ranks higher than his own self-preservation.

and when something is that important to you, you will fight not to lose it. and Katsuki does not want to lose this. Izuku is important to him. by extension that means their friendship is important to him. and he wants to preserve that.

and the thing is, the apology is an obstacle to that. and he knows it. he knows he has to face it at some point, because he can’t atone without it. he has to take responsibility for what he did. he can’t keep running away from it forever.

but he also knows the potential consequences. he knows that apologies don’t always end in reconciliation. he knows falling-outs don’t always have a happy ending. he knows that forgiveness isn’t automatic, and that years of pain don’t just disappear just like that. and he recently got to see firsthand one possible way how it might all turn out.

he knows Izuku doesn’t have to forgive him. he knows Izuku might not forgive him. and he knows that he probably doesn’t deserve Izuku’s forgiveness, and that ultimately he does not have a say in the matter one way or the other. it’s Izuku’s choice, at the end of the day, and whatever he chooses Katsuki is going to have to accept it.

but you can know all of that, and accept the fact that you’re going to have to take responsibility, and yet still be afraid to face it. and yes, maybe it’s selfish of him to feel that way. but that selfishness is also human. it’s human to fear rejection, and it’s human to go through the various stages of trying to postpone having to face that. Katsuki is a brave kid, but he is just a kid, still. and this is going to be very hard for him to do. that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still have to be done. but I feel for him and I have a lot of empathy for the situation he’s currently in.

and there is also one last reason why I think he’s putting it off as well, and it just so happens that this reason actually isn’t selfish at all.

4. he doesn’t want false forgiveness.

and this one is ironically kind of at odds with reason #3! Katsuki fears the possibility of Izuku not forgiving him... but at the same time, I think that strangely enough, there’s also a part of him that fears being forgiven, just like that. easily and gladly and unconditionally, with the trademark selflessness that defines so many of Izuku’s other decisions.

“he just... deep down, he doesn’t take himself into account, y’know?”

Izuku rarely if ever takes himself into consideration, and Katsuki knows this. he’s selfless to a fault, and Katsuki knows this. and so if Katsuki were to come up to him and apologize, there’s the possibility that yes, Izuku might decide not forgive him. he might in fact be all “nah, you know what, fuck you,” as would certainly be within his rights.

but this is a very remote possibility, and we all know it. and Katsuki knows it too, I think. because that’s not who Izuku is. he puts other people’s welfare above his own, every time. and so if Katsuki were to break down and tell Izuku that he was sorry, and if he were to ask him for forgiveness, nine times out of ten that is something that Izuku grants instantly. this is the same kid who put his own life at risk to try and save Katsuki less than an hour after Katsuki told him to dive off a roof. Izuku’s instinct is to protect and save. and so if he sees that Katsuki is hurting; if he sees that Katsuki feels guilty for what he’s done and that it’s eating away at him in much the same way as when he was blaming himself for Kamino -- he is going to do what he always does. he is going to try and save him.

and he would do that even if it meant shoving down his own pain. he absolutely would. he would prioritize Katsuki’s feelings over his own. and if he did still feel any lingering resentment at how cruelly he was treated, he would still put it aside if need be. and he would forgive him.

in other words, the risk exists that Izuku might grant Katsuki forgiveness that he doesn’t actually feel. if Katsuki is granted Izuku’s forgiveness, he doesn’t have any way to actually tell for sure if it’s real. there would be that element of doubt there, that question of whether or not it’s really sincere. and something like that could ultimately poison their relationship, if things were allowed to play out that way. it would prevent them from being fully able to trust each other. ultimately, it might lead to them drifting apart again, and something like that might ultimately be even more painful than Izuku rejecting Katsuki’s apology outright. and there’s also an argument to be made that Izuku doesn’t deserve to be put on the spot like that, and forced to make that decision one way or the other when he might not be ready to yet. so there’s that to consider as well.

so yeah. four reasons why Katsuki has not apologized to Izuku yet. and they are good reasons, in my book. complicated reasons, too. but none of that changes the fact that at the end of the day this is still something he has to do. his current way of trying to atone through action is great, don’t get me wrong! and it’s necessary too for sure, because like I said, the apology just on its own is never going to be enough. he needs to commit to doing the right thing, and trying his best to make it right between them from here on out. and saving his life is certainly a decent start! but you still gotta say the words too eventually bro.

but there is just a ton of stuff at play here and I find it all fascinating tbh. they are just so, so bad at communicating with each other. and the thing is, they both actually want the same thing! but they want it so badly that ironically it’s almost holding them back right now, because they don’t want to put it at risk. but ultimately this is a leap of faith that Katsuki in particular is going to have to take sooner rather than later in order to finally restore that last bit of trust between the two of them.

so yeah. just two stupid teenage boys who fail at emotions, and who are probably overdue for another of their famous Get It All Out In The Open stupid shounen therapy battles lmao. round 3, featuring Deku’s new robot arms vs Katsuki and his shiny new “like father like son” All Might torso scar. sob.

[fandomjunkie]

The Psychopath's Crown - Pt. 1

Characters: Jim Moriarty x Holmes!OC

Warnings: None.

Chapter 1: "And you're supposed to be a Holmes."

I strode into Speedy’s, the bell dinging as I swung the door open and made my way over to the table where she was already seated. By she, I mean Eve Watson. Best friend and partner in crime. Well, not quite a partner in crime considering she’s a DI. A smile tilts my lips at the thought as I sit down next to her. She says, gesturing to the waitress bringing over two drinks but not raising her eyes from the newspaper.

“I ordered what you need,

Her lips turned up ever so slightly at the sight of me.

I smile gratefully as I accept the steaming cup of chamomile. As I sip it, I remark, “I suppose I didn’t apply my concealer well enough, did I.”

She replies, turning a page of the newspaper, “I might not be a Holmes but I have picked up a few tricks. You’re clearly stressed out to an observant eye.”

I merely shrug at her words, cupping both my hands around the cup for warmth, “I do quite a lot of work. Mycroft has it worse though.”

At the mention of my elder brother she snorts, finally laying down her newspaper.

“Please. I don’t see Mycroft with dark circles under his eyes and paler than usual skin.”

I retort, placing my cup down gently just as the waitress arrived with Eve’s order, “You don’t see Mycroft at all. With good reason, placed in a room together with no supervision you two wouldn’t last a day.”

She shrugs as well, accepting the truth of what I said.

I plunge onwards, not letting her speak, “So I had a proposition.”

She arches an eyebrow and I finish, “We could move in together.”

She says monotonously, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “I wasn’t aware that our relationship had become so serious. Whatever shall I tell Greg?”

I sigh, “I found recording devices in my home and even though I dismantled them, Mycroft refuses to let me live alone and as much as I love my brother I appreciate my freedom. If I moved in with Myc, my life would be very restricted. So, as an alternative, I’d rather live with you.”

As I finish explaining she thoughtfully stirs her matcha before she says, “Well, if that’s the case then sure. I’ll have someone help with your stuff. Just don’t take my room. There’s plenty of others.”

I instinctively lean forward to hug her, forgetting the table and letting out a small “oof” as I bump into it.

She snickers, “And you’re supposed to be a Holmes.”

I roll my eyes and stand up, “You wanted me to meet someone?”

She nods, standing up as well, “My brother, John Watson. He can be a little-”

I complete her sentence, “Overwhelmingly flirtatious?”

She nods again as we exit the cafe, “My brother flirts with every single nice girl he meets. It’s weird. But he’s living with Sherl so you’ll have to get used to seeing him more often..”

I reply as we enter 221, “Oh, I know he’s living with Sherl.”

At the look she gives me I say quickly, “Mycroft’s surveillance, don’t ask. And also, how are you two related again? He’s flirtatious and you despise PDA, even between friends.”

She replies simply, “He’s my brother.”

I refrain from rolling my eyes again and instead rap on the door to 221B, “Sherlock! Open up.”

A man with short blondish hair opened the door, looking rather confused when he saw me but he seemed to realize something as his eyes darted to Eve.

“This is who you wanted me to meet?” He asks her.

She merely says, “I got her along, didn’t I?” She pushes him out of her way and goes straight to the refrigerator.

I chuckle and step in as he stands aside. He starts speaking first, “So, Eve didn’t bother to mention your name?”

I answer with a small smile, “Emberlyn. I go by Emberlyn.”

He smiles as well, “Beautiful name, beautiful woman.”

Flirtatious, indeed. He’s barely known me for five minutes. I hold back a chuckle when I realise he probably doesn’t know I’m related to his flatmate.

As if on cue, Sherlock strides in, his pale blue robe billowing as he walks, “Where’s Eve?”

I point to the kitchen, and he seems to realize I”m here, “Oh, hello sister. John, I’d recommend not flirting with her unless you want an earful from Mycroft. You might even get maimed if you’re lucky.”

Eve adds, peeking out of the kitchen, at John’s incredulous look, “Mhm. Just try not to hook up with her.”

I finally let a laugh bubble out, “I forgot to mention, My full name is actually Charlotte Emberlyn Tara Holmes. Bit of a mouthful so I go by Emberlyn.”

John continues to gape at me for a moment and before I can register anything else there’s a blast. I’m thrown off my feet and backwards almost headfirst into the fireplace. I feel a ringing in my ears as I stand up and stumble towards the kitchen, “Eve? Sherlock? Are you alright?”

Worry seeps through my voice despite myself and I see that Eve is just now getting up with a wince. Sherlock has already dusted himself off and extended an arm to help her up. She stands up with a small groan and I see red contusions on her elbows.

I murmur slightly, my ears still ringing, “That is going to bruise.”

She retorted, though her voice was still weak, “You’re one to talk with the way you’re clinging to that counter.”

I grimace and ask Sherlock, “You’re alright, yes?”

He nods swiftly, still analyzing our injuries. Confusion passes over Eve’s face as he bustles over to put the kettle on.

He explains, “Mycroft will be here soon. I’ll give it ten minutes with the commute. If it was just us it would’ve been an hour or so. Emberlyn is involved thus expediting the travel time.”

I scowl but gratefully accept the muffins he passes to Eve and I. By the time we finish the whistle of the kettle sounds throughout the house, almost in unison with the knocking on the door.

Eve hollers, “Come in Mykie.”

He answers, irritation clear in his voice as he steps in, “Good morning to you too Evangeline. No major injuries I see. Pity. A week in a hospital would have done wonders for your complexion.”

Sherlock steps forward, almost ready to engage in argument but I beat him to it, “It’s much too early in the day to beat one of my imbecilic brothers over the head with a lamp but I won’t hesitate.”

They both pause at that and Eve says, rolling up her sleeves, “I don’t have any such forebearing about beating one of them over the head with a lamp.”

I sigh exasperatedly, “Myc sit, Sher get the tea from the kitchen, Eve, you can go to another room if you can’t stand to be civilized.”

I pause and wait for them to comply, which they do. John murmurs to me, “Impressive.”

I laugh slightly, “It’s a skill.”

Eve busies herself in the kitchen, still grumbling under her breath about how she’d like to maim Mycroft, while Sherlock arrives with the tea tray, purposefully positioning it away from Mycroft. I roll my eyes at his antics but gesture for Mycroft to proceed.

*mycroft’s andrew west explanation*

Mycroft stands up and hisses, “Sherlock, this is of national importance.”

He scowls, “Then get Emberlyn to do it.”

Mycroft retorts, “Emberlyn has other work to do, especially with the Korean elections approaching. But you don’t need to know anything about that, do you?”

Sherlock lifts his violin and I sigh, dreading what was to follow. Sure enough, screeching emitted from his violin as he deliberately played off-key. I heard a crash in the kitchen accompanied by the sound of glass shattering.

“DAMMIT SHERLOCK!”

I snorted and even Mycroft smirked, “Good luck brother.”

Sherlock grimaced as Eve peeked out of the kitchen, “As much as I adore torturing Mycroft, giving me a warning first would be lovely! I just shattered my favorite champagne glass.”

John said incredulously, “You don’t even live here!”

Sherlock explains, “She gave me a glass which she used whenever she came around my flat.When I moved here, I took it with me.”

I interjected, “More concerningly, why were you touching the champagne glass at 10 am. Don’t tell me you were admiring it. You’re not sentimental.”

She sulked, “Listening to Mycroft talk is deserving of a glass of champagne. Not that I ever did get to drink it.”

She glares daggers at Sherlock who winces.

I stand up and shake my head, “Well, as long as she didn’t drink any alcohol, no harm done. I’ll leave you to wipe up your champagne puddle Sherlock. Mycroft will be waiting for me down.”

He nodded, dragging his feet as he went to the kitchen, Eve still looking put out over losing her glass of liquor. John waved as I left the flat. Soon I was out on the side walk of Baker Street. I didn’t see Mycroft but a familiar black BMW rolled up to me, the back window was rolled down and Megara came into view.

“We can talk in the car.”

I complied, sliding in as she opened the door.

“So, what does Mycroft have for me today?” I ask, as the car drives off into the street and towards my flat.

She brushes a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and takes out a few folders. She hands me a sheet, “This would be your schedule for the week. I’m sure you have Ms. Watson’s permission so your things are being moved currently. We’re merely heading to your house for a last look for anything they might’ve missed. For this week you don’t have any active teams to look over. Andrew West, as you know, will be taken care of by Mr. Sherlock Holmes. In your schedule you can see your meetings for the week.”

I nod, rifling through the papers she has given me. A beautifully detailed itinerary of my week.

“Currently, Mr Holmes has only asked you to see the physician that we’ll be stopping at on the way. “

I cut her off with an incredulous look, “I only have a few bruises.”

She arches an eyebrow, “It’s about time for your monthly check up anyways.”

The vehicle comes to a stop outside the physician’s building and I grumble slightly as she marches me to the door.

I’m still scowling as we enter the vehicle again.

“Completely unnecessary.”

She allows herself a small snicker but says in a professional tone, “I almost forgot to mention the coffee I got you.”

I stare at the coffee and then at her, “Is this supposed to be the adult version of giving a child a lollipop after a doctor visit?”

Though she shrugs her eyes sparkle with mischief and I accept it with a sigh.

She continues her briefing from where we left off, “Mr. Holmes, only wishes for you to rest up today. Your main assignment this week would be researching one of our high profile potential criminals.”

She delicately hands me a rather thin file. I flip through its meager two pages with surprise, “This is all we have?”

She nods, “Precisely, why he wants you to investigate further I presume. And, you didn’t hear this from me but he probably would also like you to lay off the legwork for a while.”

I grumble at her words but I’m more pre-occupied with the file before me. Attached it a clear cut photograph of the man and I find myself mildly amused as he seems to be striking a pose despite the photograph clearly being taken by a security camera.

“James Elwin Moriarty.” I murmur the name to myself, taken aback by how soft it sounds. So gentle and distinguished. Rather contrasting to the number of illegal deeds he has been suspected of being an accomplice in. Suspected being the key word there. He was rather thorough and careful. A puzzle indeed. Despite having much information about his suspected crimes there was little to none personal information. Education, childhood, parents, family. As if he was nobody. I suppose that’s what Mycroft wanted me to investigate.

Everyone has a weakness Charlotte, if you find it, they’re yours.

His words ring in my ear. Precious but cold-hearted advice which he gave in my first years at the secret service. Before I was a famed interrogator there. I closed the file and leaned back, closing my eyes.

“Thank you, Megara. I think I’ll take my brother’s advice and take a short nap. Tell me when we arrive.”

“Of course, Ms.Holmes.”