#i need to write something eventually tbh.......

[sshiostwordblog]

That's not stupid at all omg!! I'd definitely read it :D I think oc x canon and yumeshipping is awesome and people should do it more tbh

SOBS TYSM you're so kind (I ended up writing the fic but it's quite long. Feel free to skip for anyone who's not interested in reading), I just hope it's at least slightly entertaining to read. Here you go (It's my second time writing a fanfic and English is not my first language so... I'd love some feedback if anyone is willing to read.)

『 ೈ𝘈 𝘕𝘦𝘸, 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 ♡』 

Lee: Albedo Ler: (OC) Shiro Tickle fic summary: Albedo gets strangely accustomed to this new, sweet individual who came to Mondstadt. The issue is… this new friend is a little too eager. Word count: 2773 words

Nights in Dragonspine were undoubtedly cold, the soft breeze of the wind was a common sound to hear within the snowy mountain. At times like these, Albedo was used to dealing with nothing more than his sole presence along with the slight feeling of the cold air hitting his skin. Things changed for him not too long ago, when they hired a newly arrived guy to take a role inside the range of the Knights of Favonius. At first, Albedo paid no mind to him. He was reserved and very dedicated to his work, after all. When you’ve got a large number of mysteries to uncover and turn even the smallest of observations into a wonder, it’s certainly difficult to preoccupy yourself with the people around you. But this tall Anemo user, Shiro, who arrived recently and now worked as an art teacher for therapeutic purposes, had seemed to take an interest in the alchemist from the very first moment he laid eyes on him.

At first, it was one conversation. The blond indulged in a small interaction about their occupations, nothing relevant. He learned that the taller male apparently came from Inazuma, having experience in using art as therapy methods. Art piqued Albedo’s interest as a topic, obviously, and soon he found himself getting slightly more invested in getting to know his new co-worker.

A conversation turned into two, strangers turned into acquaintances and soon enough Shiro was looking for excuses to spend time with the alchemist in his free time.

“Could I accompany you today?” he would eagerly ask, looking into Albedo’s eyes with that warm smile of his. “Can you tell me more about that?” he poked at Albedo’s knowledgeable nature another day, pushing him to explain further. Shiro would take no for an answer, of course, but he would also eventually trick his way into getting a yes and spending more and more time with Albedo to the point it was nothing short of exasperating, if not a little endearing.

 He would insist in helping Albedo with research and studies, sticking around for the most complex things even if he had little to no comprehension about the subject. The difference in knowledge was laughable, clearly. Shiro would often know nothing about the complexity of Albedo’s researches. He was much simpler. Emotionally and psychologically intelligent, yes, but when it comes to Albedo’s level of smarts…

“Shiro, could you please pass me the Starsilver shards?” Albedo’s calm voice had requested in this current day after months of interaction, said brunet being next to him and carefully trying to recognize the materials the alchemist needed for his experiment.

Here they were, already more than acquaintances. How did Shiro get this far?

He turned around to meet the blonde’s eyes with a hint of uncertainty in his own, smiling sheepishly at him.

“Here…?” Shiro handed him something, yes, but needless to say… it’s not what Albedo had been asking for. Again, he couldn’t blame the brunet. This material he requested only grew in Dragonspine and Shiro was still not entirely used to Mondstadt. Perhaps he forgot. A fond chuckle escaped the blond, shaking his head in disbelief. He should feel bothered about being slowed down like this; with Shiro around, his work was ten times slower. And yet… he couldn’t bring himself to care much. Shiro had grown on him by this point, him and his eager self. He was genuine and transparent, but not energetic to the point of being tiring. Shiro was calm most of the time and a good listener. Comforting.

Still… he wasn’t as good of an assistant as sucrose. The brunet was clearly not assistant material. Not for complex things like these at least.

“Maybe I should just… get it myself.” Albedo tried to say, before meeting Shiro’s look of disappointment and biting back a small huff of laughter. He would’ve felt bothered months ago, but not anymore. He was slowly getting used to the brunet’s presence, even If he initially had trouble with maintaining relationships and connections. “Hold on, I can get it, I swear.” The brunet claimed, before rushing to grab another thing that ended up being the requested ore.

When Shiro showed the material and saw the smile of approval in the blonde’s face, his eyes lit up just like a puppy getting a treat. There was something about Albedo he just adored from the start. Time passed by as he observed how the alchemist worked; asking him about things and hearing him explain in detail about the subjects he found so interesting. Shiro didn’t understand a single bit, but he found himself quietly listening with a smile on his face.

He would perk up every time Albedo asked for his help, and there was nothing different this time. “Shiro?” Albedo called out, turning to look at him in the midst of his work. “I need you to use your Anemo vision on this for a second? Just focus on deviating the elemental energy here,” he pointed at the setup that was in front of him, clearly a mix of substances.

The brunet would be asked to do these kinds of things from time to time, it was nothing new. Albedo had his back turned on him, too focused on the items on the table in front of him to look behind. He already knew Shiro was there, so why bother.

The catalyst approached from behind and lifted his hand to reach over Albedo’s shoulder to do as requested, his hand already accumulating elemental energy.

A soft noise stopped him, however.

It sounded like a gasp coming from Albedo, who had flinched slightly. Did his soft whirl of Anemo hit Albedo by accident? Did he hurt him?

He pulled his hand back, tilting his head to the side with a hint of worry in his eyes. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten my hand so close…”

“Ah— no, it’s fine.” Albedo interrupted, sooner than he would’ve liked. “It just brushed my ear and- um…”

All Shiro did lately was paying attention to Albedo, it took him less than a second to notice the faint, precious blush decorating the alchemist’s cheeks. It was an endearing sight… but also confusing.

Why would the calm and collected Mr. Albedo be blushing?

“…It just tickled briefly, that’s all. We can continue.” Albedo picked his words back up, clearing his throat and attempting to be professional about it, turning to look back at his work and avoiding the brunet’s look of realization.

Albedo wasn’t one to pause or hesitate often. He was swift and calculating. He had hesitated just now, because… Shiro was just so eager about getting to know him and pay attention to him. There’s a big, fat chance he would…

“Ticklish?” Shiro repeated, making Albedo’s blush grow the slightest bit, trying to cover it up with a small cough. He would’ve been professional about this with anyone else, but after getting to know this sweet, persistent brunet he knew Shiro would hyperfocus on that small piece of info.

Albedo had to regain his composure before the other got any ideas. “Yes, it is a… rather normal response within the body’s nervous system to touch. Why do you sound so surprised?” The alchemist tried to say, even though he knew that look on Shiro’s face. It was already making his stomach feel all fluttery.

Before meeting Shiro, these things wouldn’t happen. He would’ve been by himself, working peacefully without these silly interruptions.

“You? Ticklish? That’s… adorable.”

Being praised from time to time however… he couldn’t say he minded all that much.

Albedo left out a shaky sigh, bringing a hand up to rub his temple. “It never fails to amaze me, you’re the only person who can say those things to me so casually…” “And you could tell me to stop it, but you never do.” Shiro pointed out, before he felt a knowing smile grow on his face the moment he noticed Albedo looking away. “I’m surprised you’re focusing on that instead of your work.”

The blond shook his head dismissively and decided to continue. Distractions like these were unacceptable within his working ethics. He reached for Shiro’s hand and did the requested process to continue his experiment, assuming the brunet would just drop the topic.

That is, until he felt another soft, tingly breeze against his ear a minute or so later, making him stop in his tracks.

It elicited the same brief reaction, making Albedo flinch and gasp quietly before covering his ear. This time, he turned to half-heartedly glare at the brunet, watching how Shiro looked away and played dumb; pretending he didn’t just use his vision again for that.

“What?” Shiro said, biting back a smile. “Is something the matter?”

He knew what he was doing.

Albedo sighed yet again for the millionth time that day. “Shiro, please...” he tried to say, hoping to reason with his… friend. They could be considered that, at this point.

The brunet looked like he had stars in his eyes from the mere prospect of Albedo being ticklish. Albedo, on the other hand, couldn’t fully grasp why… why him? Why so much attention towards him? Why did Shiro enjoy being this close to him? Doesn’t he find it boring at the very least? He had quickly taken an interest in Albedo and done nothing more than wanting to be around him apart from working.

It would usually take a little more effort to maintain a connection but with someone like this, sticking around no matter how busy Albedo can get… deep down, it was a little refreshing.

Albedo’s train of thought was quickly interrupted by another tingly breeze against his ears, this time a little more persistent.

He couldn’t help it, a sweet giggle poured out of his lips before he could stop it. “Was that a giggle just now?” Those words reached Albedo’s ears, causing them to turn red. He looked back at Shiro, but was surprised to be met with an adoring gaze instead of a teasing one.

Shiro’s smile looked like it could split his face in half from how hard he was smiling, his eyes sparkling affectionately because of the breathy giggle he just got to hear. It was too much to process, being stared at so adoringly.

Albedo looked away once again, sighing softly. “Shiro… don’t look at me like that...” A pure, loving and affectionate look. He wasn’t used to someone being so transparent about… liking him. It was so obvious.

“But I’ve never heard you laugh apart from a few chuckles! Besides, laughing is therapeutic too.” The brunet said, suddenly a bit more lively than he usually would be, leaning closer to Albedo while looking at him with those pleading eyes and silly smile. “Can I hear more? Pretty please?” Albedo opened and closed his mouth in pure, utter disbelief; trying to get some words out. Only Shiro out of all people would tell the renowned chief alchemist “Pretty please”.

“I— I don’t see how this is—” The blond tried to say, but rapidly went silent at the sight of Shiro’s puppy eyes. How does one deal with someone so eager? The second that reluctant sigh escaped Albedo’s lips, Shiro knew he had a green light to continue his little shenanigans. It was almost immediate; cold, delicate fingers fluttering around Albedo’s ears, causing him to let out a silent gasp before dissolving into giggles. He scrunched his shoulders up and tried to weakly bat at Shiro’s hands to push them away.

“Shihihiro! Pfft- Aha- S-seheriously—” Albedo tried to say, small titters slipping past his lips. This was the first time he found himself blushing this hard. “W-we- I got wohohork to dohoho—”

Shiro’s soft fingertips were persistent, sliding down and pushing through Albedo’s silky hair that felt so nice to the touch, beginning to wiggle against his neck. It was, surprisingly more sensitive than the shells of his ears.

Sweet squeaks and breathy giggles came out of the alchemist’s lips as he gave up on pushing the brunet away, instead focusing on covering his own involuntary smile instead. Why wasn’t he pushing Shiro away? He was technically stronger, smarter, could come up with strategies swiftly…

But then all of a sudden, the sensations stopped. Leftover titters were still slipping past Albedo’s lips as he tried to recover, confused by the sudden pause. He was naturally curious too, after all.

“I would stop, really,” Shiro began, resting his hands against Albedo’s shoulders from behind. You could hear the smile in his voice. “But, um… the issue is… you haven’t really told me to stop now, have you? Why are you letting me have my fun?”

Before Albedo could answer, he felt those same cold and wiggly fingers slipping under his coat and squeezing his side. He burst into another fit of breathy giggles while leaning back; his back pressed against Shiro’s chest.

“Ahahahack! Wahahahait—” Hiccups started to leak through the alchemist’s sweet laughter, feeling Shiro’s free hand wrap around his wrist, pulling Albedo’s hand away and uncovering his bright smile.

“Your laugh is… so sweet.” Of all the things Shiro could’ve said to make this feel humiliating, he just… kept praising. Was it normal to feel this warm and fluttery?... Another mystery to uncover once this nonsense is over.

Shiro kept going for a minute or so, fluttering his fingers ever-so-slightly, poking from time to time, wiggling and even blowing air against Albedo’s ears. Work was, for once, the last thing in Albedo’s mind. All he could do was melt into a puddle of giggles until Shiro finally decided to let up.

He hadn’t noticed he was this ticklish, since nobody usually attempts such a thing while near him. Only someone as refreshing and casual as Shiro would pull out a stunt like this.

He didn’t know how many minutes passed since this started, or how long did he leave his work unattended. All he knew is that by the time Shiro had stopped, his hair was all disheveled along with his flushed face.

Shiro stared at the giggling alchemist, thinking it was a lovely sight. He’d be doing these kinds of things more often, to keep Albedo from getting engrossed in work.

“Hm, I think I’m the first person that gets to see the chief Alchemist smiling like this…”

Shiro could’ve pointed out Albedo was a mess, he could’ve pointed out how unprofessional this was. All he did, however, was talk about the blonde’s smile.

Calmly and carefully, he lifted his hand and fixed Albedo’s hair making the blond gasp, before Shiro pulled away and turned his attention to Albedo’s work. So casually. As if nothing had happened at all.

Albedo was still panting slightly, covering his mouth once again while staring at the brunet dumbfounded. What… what just happened?

“Th—… um…” He tried to speak, but it was an impossible task at the moment. He was a little too disoriented to figure out what just happened, his skin still tingling with the remnants of Shiro’s playful attack.

“You’re not going to get to work?” The brunet tilted his head innocently, his sparkling eyes holding no remorse or malice. His smile so warm, so satisfied. As if he hadn’t just… just…

“…Y-yes… yes, yes. You’re right…”

Albedo cleared his throat and fixed his clothes, trying to ignore that fluttering feeling that grew even stronger when Shiro fixed his hair so casually just a few seconds earlier. The only occasions in which he engaged in physical touch were when Klee hugged him. He wasn’t used to this.

The worst part was… Albedo couldn’t figure out whether it bothered him or not. Having someone around like this, so transparent and so strangely comforting.

Maybe, just maybe… he should be slightly more permissive around Shiro next time instead of being so careful.

[sequinsmile-x]

Waltzing Back Into Rekindled Flames

It’s only when she sees him at the funeral that she realises she should have expected it. 

Emily and Aaron reconnect after the loss of a friend.

-x-

Hi besties,

First off, I know I promised fluff, but the idea of writing this 'other version' of Will's funeral with an older, more canon compliant Hotchniss, wouldn't leave my brain so here we are.

There are purposely some similarities to the one I posted the other day, and a lot of parallels. It was interesting to explore/write how different Emily's grief would be when she's by herself in comparison to having her family around her, and how joy can be found in even the darkest of times <3

There will be some actual fluff over the weekend to make up for all the sadness I've written recently!

Again, no spoilers for CME beyond the stuff around Will. Actually it completely disregards most of it's existence tbh.

As always, let me know what you think , I'd love to know what you think of this in comparison to the other fic <3

-x-

Warnings: Loss/Grief

Words: 4k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

It starts with a phone call in the middle of the night. 

It tears her from sleep, makes her groan as she rolls over in bed, her pillow hugged against her chest as she sits up. She’s worried at first that it’s another case, but when she sees JJ’s name flashing on her phone, she knows there’s only one reason she’d be calling at 3 am. She takes a deep breath, lets it fan the flames of grief in her chest, the smoke of it catching in her throat, making it hard to breathe, and then she answers the call.

“JJ, hi.”

“Hi Em,” JJ replies, her shaking, “It…it happened about an hour ago,” she chokes on a sound Emily can’t name, something between a sob and a disbeliving laugh, the thought that Will, her husband and the father of her children, was gone almost absurd even though he’d been sick for a while, “He’s…he died.” 

Emily has to close her eyes, desperate to hold back her tears even though she’s alone and no one will see them, determined to be whatever her friend needed her to be. She wished more than anything that she could fix it, that she could stop Will from getting sick in the first place, stop him from realising he was sick too late for treatment to work. She wanted to save her friend from the heartache of losing the person she thought she was going to spend her life with, the road ahead scattered with potholes and cracks of memories turned sad and sour that she could fall into at any given time. 

“I’m so sorry, is there anything I can do?” 

JJ sucks in a breath and Emily can hear it catch in her chest, “No, thank you. I won’t be in work for a little while.” 

“Please don’t worry about work,” she replies, “I’ll make sure it’s all handled. You take as much time as you need.” 

She’s itching to do something, to go over and help and cook for JJ and the boys, to do something that shows how much she loves them, but she knows she can’t, that she has to respect JJ’s wishes. So she does all that she can. She reminds JJ that she’s there for her, says she can call whenever she needs to, and she promises to check in a day or so. 

When she hangs up, her connection to her friend’s grief isn’t severed along with the call. It lingers in the air, making her pull the covers tighter around her as she tries and fails to fall back asleep, the weight of the loss of a man who she’d known for almost 20 years heavy on her chest. Eventually, she gets out of bed, abandoning the idea of sleep entirely as she walks through her house, the emptiness of it overwhelming, the silence oppressive as she feels more lonely than she has in a long time. The grief permeates all of it, finds every empty corner and shadow in her home to infiltrate it, rotting the foundations of the life she’d built - not the life she’d wanted, but the life she had - from the inside out. 

She makes a cup of tea and settles on the couch, switching on the TV to fill the silence with something other than all the sad things that were to come and the regrets that always made themselves known in times like these. 

She’d always wanted more than this. She’d wanted a family, wanted to be part of something bigger than herself and the job that she’d never truly wanted. There was too much politics in it for her liking, too much expectation, and people talking without ever actually saying something. Sometimes, she’d look in the mirror and see her mother staring back at her, and she wondered how, by spending her life trying to avoid being like her, she’d ended up more like her than she’d ever admit outloud. She’d thought about quitting more than once. Not just when she broke the rules to get Spencer out of prison, but countless times when it all felt too much. She’d never go through with it, though, because she felt a responsibility to the team, the promise she’d made to Aaron all those years ago to look after them for her weighing heavily on her shoulders. 

She sighs when she thinks of him, just like she always did, something she refused to call longing flooding her lungs as she tries to ignore how she feels about him, every missed opportunity a punch to the gut that would leave a long-lasting bruise. For years, she’d ignored it, told herself it was the close proximity and the amount of time they all spent together that had her infatuated with him. Even when the feelings followed her across an ocean, imprinting themselves in the walls of an apartment he never visited, she told herself it was nothing, that he was simply her friend. 

It was only when she abandoned the life she’d made for herself - her career, her boyfriend, the friends she’d made over there - just because he asked her to, that she finally admitted it to herself. When she could finally acknowledge that she loved him. It was almost beautiful in its tragedy, the stuff of poems and books that made her sad if she read them, the idea of him being the right person for her, but never in her life at the right time. Life and circumstance kept them apart even when they were right next to each other, and it felt like the true loss of her life that she’d never been with him, a relationship that had left her brokenhearted, even though they’d never even kissed. It made Will’s death even more tragic, JJ’s loss of him even crueller because somehow, in amongst everything, they’d found each other and made a life. Everything they’d been through something that made them stronger rather than tearing them apart. 

Emily watches the dark sky give way to dawn from her living room, the new day daring to start even though someone precious had died, the sun bright and indifferent as it rises over the horizon. 

___

It’s only when she sees him at the funeral that she realises she should have expected it. 

He hadn’t come to Krystal’s because of COVID, but she knew he’d spoken to Dave, that he’d sent flowers and his condolences, and she remembered being disappointed. Not in him, because she knew his hands were tied, but because she hadn’t had the chance to see him. 

Now she can see him with Jack standing on his right - taller than his father - it makes her heart skip a beat, a blush that feels inappropriate for a funeral spreading across her cheeks and down her chest. Jack spots her first. He walks over and pulls her into a hug, and she can’t believe that this is the little boy she’d once watched at his mother’s funeral in this very graveyard, all grown up and taller than her, as he wraps her in an embrace that is much stronger than she remembered.

“Emily,” he says, smiling as he pulls back - his father’s smile - scrunching his nose up a little, “I’d say it’s good to see you, but given the circumstances…” 

She chokes on a dry laugh, “It’s good to see you too, Jack,” she says, looking him up and down, “You’ve really grown up.” 

He hums and nods, “Dad always says he’ll wonder if I’ll ever stop getting taller.”

“Hopefully you do soon,” Aaron says as he joins them, patting his son’s shoulder, “Otherwise you’ll have to bend down to get into your dorm,” he smiles when Jack rolls his eyes, but then turns his attention to Emily, “Hi Emily.” 

“Hi,” she says, unsure what to do at first, whether she should hug him, but then he hugs her, his embrace fiercer than that of his sons, and he squeezes her, “I didn’t realise you guys were coming.” 

Aaron’s smile is tight when he pulls back, and he nods over to JJ and the boys, “It would have felt wrong if we didn’t.” 

Jack looks back and forth between them, something sparking in his eyes, and then he clears his throat, drawing their attention away from each other, “I’m going to say hi to Henry and Michael.” 

“Okay, thanks, buddy,” Aaron says, his smile proud as Jack walks away, “He’s busy with finals, but he wanted to come to support Henry and Michael - said he knows what it’s like to lose a parent.” 

She swallows thickly, pushing down sadness she isn’t sure she’s allowed to feel, “That’s sweet,” she says, looking over at the boys, smiling sadly when Jack pulls Henry into a hug, “He’s still that sweet boy he always was,” she looks back at Aaron, “Just in giant form,” she jokes, and he laugh, his laugh every bit as goofy and beautiful as she remembered, “Where does he go to college?” 

“Georgetown,” he replies, and she gasps in surprise, shaking her head in disbelief. 

“He’s been in DC for the last two years? He should have reached out,” she says, sharp disappointment stabbing her heart at the thought that he’d been here, that they’d both been here and she hadn’t known, “You both should have.”

He nods, his hands in his pockets as he avoids her eye contact, “I told him to, but he said he didn’t want to disturb you,” he clears his throat, “Neither one of us wanted to.” 

She’s about to reply, to tell him that he’d never disturb her, that she wanted him in her life, but the funeral director lets them know it’s about to begin, and she’s interrupted. The day passes by in a blur and tearful eulogies, and she can’t believe how long it’s been since they all stood in the same graveyard for Haley’s funeral. The wake is at JJ’s house, it’s beautiful and sad, and Will’s absence is felt sharply, his ghost lingering in every corner and in the sad smiles of his sons. 

When it’s time to leave, when Aaron and Jack say their goodbyes to her, their hugs linger a little longer this time, a promise she doesn’t believe that they’ll keep in touch passing between them like sweet candy. 

She thinks thats it, that she won’t see Aaron again, but then he shows up on her doorstep two weeks later, his hands in his pockets and his smile nervous as she opens her front door, a disbelieving laugh caught in her throat.

“Aaron?”

“Hi,” he replies, “Can I come in?” 

She nods, stepping back to let him into her house. “How did you know where I live?” 

“Dave,” he replies, his smile turning into a smirk, and she rolls her eyes, replaying every comment Dave had made over the last couple of weeks in her head.

“It’s inappropriate to make eyes at someone at a funeral, you know.” 

“If you started dating now, I’d technically still win the bet from years ago since I chose the latest date.” 

He’d always been insistent that they should give it a go, no matter how much time had passed, no matter how unlikely it seemed that it would work out. 

“Of course, he did,” she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest, the feel of the soft cotton material reminding her she’s in her pjyamas. She swallows thickly, looking down at the floor between them, feeling more anxious than she thinks she has in years, “How can I help?” 

“I came here to ask you on a date,” he says bluntly, the honesty of it making her look up so quickly that it twinges her neck, and she chuckles, shaking her head at him.

“Aaron…we live in different states,” she says, dangerous hope flooding her chest, taking up all the space she’d had waiting for him for years. 

He steps towards her, his hands in his pockets as if he were trying everything not to reach for her. “I’m moving back. Jack’s here… you’re here. I don’t know why I didn’t do it sooner,” he laughs at himself and shakes his head. “Jack said I’m an idiot for not asking you out years ago.” 

“Jack…Jack is okay with this?” 

Aaron nods, “Apparently the way we were looking at each other at the funeral was his final straw,” he says, his cheeks going pink with embarrassment that must be catching because she feels hers burning too, “As soon as we got in the car he asked me why I was still pretending I wasn’t in love with you.” 

The admission makes her gasp, the casual nature of it soft and sweet and everything she’d waited for years for. 

“Aaron-”

“This kind of thing, losing someone, makes you think, you know? And the only thing I keep thinking about is how much I wish I’d asked you out years ago,” he says, seemingly still trying to talk her into something she’d wanted for long before he’d asked, “And Will was so young still, and I know he’d give anything to still be here with JJ and the boys, and I kept thinking what I want to do with the rest of my life, and you kept popping into my head.”

“Aaron-”

“So I want to know if you’ll go on a date with me, because life is too short-”

She cuts him off with a kiss. She doesn’t think about it, doesn’t consider that it’s their first kiss, and she smiles when she pulls back breathless, one hand on his cheek and the other on her lips, chasing the feel of his lips against hers.

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”

He laughs and presses his  forehead against hers, “No, I can safely say I’ve never been accused of that once in my life.” 

She smiles, nudging her nose against his, “I think it goes without saying, I’d love to go on that date.” 

He leans in to kiss her, taking the lead this time as he holds her close, his arms around her back, and she sighs into it, wondering how so many things had changed so quickly.

___

Considering it took them so long to make it here, things move quickly between them. 

Aaron moves back to DC and gets a small apartment, seemingly aware that, even as he signed the lease, he wouldn’t be spending much time there. He’s at her place more often than not, often letting himself in with the key she’d given him on their second date and making her dinner when she’s on her way home from work.

It’s been two months, two glorious, happy months, when she admits to herself that she has to tell the team about them. They’d figured out that she was with someone, but she hadn’t told them it was Aaron, concern making her belly flip whenever she thought about it, whenever she thought about telling JJ. She was back at work now, she had been for weeks, and she was trying her best to pretend everything was okay, like she wasn’t surrounded by behavioural profilers who all knew and loved her husband. Emily didn’t want to add to her sadness, to rub the happiness she’d gained in her face, so she avoided any conversation about her love life, even when JJ herself joined in on the team's teasing about her secret partner, her smile never quite reaching her eyes. 

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” 

She tilts her head to look up at Aaron, unaware that she’d been lost in thought in the safety of his embrace until he runs his hand up and down her arm, and she sighs, shifting away from him just enough to look at him, unsure how to put it into words.

“I think it’s time I told the team about us.”

He smiles coyly, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, “If you were anyone else, I think I’d be offended by how sad you sound at the idea.” He quips, and she laughs, shaking her head at him. She reaches out for his hand and links their fingers together, chasing his comfort and warmth even though he’s sitting right next to her, “Tell me what you’re thinking, Em.” 

“I…” she trails off and swallows thickly, pushing years, decades, worth of things she’d never been able to say back down into her chest, forcing them into boxes she’d locked them in when she told herself that this, that they, would never happen. She smiles tightly at him, squeezes his hand to feel his fingers between hers, something she’d thought about more often than she’d care to admit, something her imagination had never come close to getting right, “I feel guilty.” 

“Because of us?” He asks as he rubs his thumb back and forth over her pulse in her wrist, her life force thrumming beneath his calloused skin, proof that despite everything, they’d somehow made it here. 

She hums, grateful that he doesn’t look offended, that he understands, because of course he does, and she wonders if there is any point in keeping everything she feels locked up tight in boxes she’d lost the keys to. He probably already knew anyway because he felt the same way and had for so long that it was heartbreaking. In another life, where they both made different choices, she wondered what would have happened. If they’d have had the kids she’d always longed for but never got to have, if they’d have loved each other through everything and held steady simply because they had each other. 

She shakes off the thought, literally shakes her head, because there was no use in getting lost in the what-ifs and should-have-beens. If Will’s death had taught her anything, it was that life was short, that time would pass regardless of whether you used it well or not. Aaron was right here with her now, his hand in hers and his smile and his belly softer than she remembered, and she didn’t want to waste any more time than they already had. 

“I feel bad that we managed to get our act together because Will died. If you hadn’t come into town for the funeral…I feel guilty for being so happy when JJ has lost the man she loves.” 

“It’s not your fault how things worked out,” he says, leaning in to kiss her forehead, warmth spreading out from the spot where his lips had touched through her entire body. “JJ will know that. Grief is…complicated,” he says, running his fingers through her hair, and she wishes he could have known what it felt like when she was younger. When it was softer and less coarse, when it hadn’t aged like the rest of her, “Even if she doesn’t get it at first, she will.” 

Emily hums and tucks herself up against him, taking the opportunity to breathe in everything she never thought she’d get a chance to know. 

“I love you,” she says, the admission no less incredible than the first time she’d said it to him, pressed against his bare chest in her bed on the evening of their first date. 

He kisses the top of her head before he rests his cheek there, “I love you, too.” 

___

It takes her another week to pluck up the courage, and she decides to tell JJ first. 

She’s nervous when she stands on her doorstep, a bottle of wine in hand, but she does her best to hide it when JJ invites her in. She pretends it’s any other night where they’ve sat on her couch drinking wine together. It’s the first time they’ve done it since Will died, and Emily feels his absence sharply. He used to bring them food - would make them a huge meal before he disappeared upstairs with the boys, their laughter as they played a video game filtering down the stairs, punctuating any conversation she and JJ were having. 

She knows it’s just a taster of what JJ felt every day, a tiny insight into how Will lingered in every corner of this house, and it makes her ache, makes her anxiety roll in her stomach again. 

“I need to tell you something,” she says eventually, refilling their wine glasses, smiling tightly as JJ looks at her curiously, a flash of her usual self peeking out from behind the mask of grief she’d been wearing for close to three months now, “I’m seeing someone.” 

JJ smiles at her and raises an eyebrow, “We all know that, Em. We just don’t know who.” 

“It’s…” She clears her throat, knowing this would somehow make it more real. That it would burst the perfect, happy bubble she and Aaron had been living in for two months, but she wants to. She wants to invite everyone else in, to finally be happy and allow her friends to bear witness to it. “It’s Aaron. I’m seeing Aaron.”

“Our Aaron?” JJ asks, her eyebrows shooting up her forehead, “Hotch?” She confirms, and Emily nods, sipping her wine as JJ visibly processes it, her eyes wide as she stares at her, “How…when?” 

Emily sighs, knowing this would be the hard bit to swallow, “A couple of weeks after the funeral, he came to see me to ask me on a date. We’ve been together ever since.” 

JJ stares at her again, and for a moment Emily thinks she’s going to yell or cry or throw her out, but then she laughs. A full-bodied laugh that shocks her as much as it does Emily, and it has her bending over, her hand on her belly as it aches because she hasn’t laughed like it in months. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head, wiping tears that are a mix of tears of joy and sadness from her cheeks, “It’s just…Will was always so sure you two should have been together.” 

Emily furrows her brow, “He was?” 

JJ nods, her laugh turning into a sob as he places her hand on her chest before she covers her mouth, capturing the sound before it can escape, “Yeah, he always told me you’d figure it out eventually,” she shakes her head and wipes a tear from her cheek, her wedding ring catching in the low light in the room, “I think he’d get a real kick out of knowing you two finally figured it out because of his funeral.” 

Emily reaches out for her, grabbing her hand and squeezing, a parallel of a moment a lifetime ago when Penelope was in surgery and JJ was keeping her relationship with Will a secret from them all. They were all so young then, so beautifully ignorant of all that was to come, and she was glad of it. Glad that they would have no idea of the pain and suffering they’d endure, because she knew it wouldn’t have changed anything JJ did, that she wouldn’t have given up the time she had with Will to avoid this feeling now. 

“JJ…”

“I’m happy for you, Em,” she says, squeezing her hand, her eyes shining at her as she presses her lips together to stop them from shaking, “I’m happy for both of you. God knows if two people on this earth deserve happiness, it’s you and Hotch,” she chokes on a sound between a sob and a laugh, “And I like to think Will, wherever he is, is delighted to know he’s somewhat responsible for it.”

Emily wasn’t sure what she believed in, whether she thought there was life after death or not, but she hoped that it was real. She hoped that Will had better than she had when she’d died, that he wasn’t just alone in the dark, and that eventually she’d have better too. She liked to think Will was somewhere with his Dad, that he’d got to tell him that he’d solved the case he’d never been able to, that he’d found happiness with the love of his life and had two beautiful sons. 

And she liked to think that maybe, just maybe, he was smiling at the thought of her and Aaron finding happiness together after all this time.

“Yeah,” she says, squeezing her friend's hand again, tears pressing at the back of her eyes, “Me too.” 

[wilfre-the-medical-bot]

(Wooooooooiooooooopioooooooooooooopioooo

Home alone for a few hours- littlest kiddos at school, that one brother at some resort [he be getting the help he needs I've been told], parents going up to have a meeting at that place to see if said brother could come home tomorrow [mother keeps asking if i will feel safe and im like "I dunno, tbh"] and just- man- I've been more productive than ever lol-

Had a small breakfast [gross- food=blegh], made friends with a spider that startled me, made myself some coffee, lost da spider [sadness 😔], drank coffee, fed and gave water to the animals, took my medicine, put up my new TF One poster, patched up a cut I found on my leg [WHY MAKE SUCH A MESS IT WAS SUCH A SMALL CUT WTF 😭], cleaned up bathroom floor [not cause of the dang cut dat mess was only on my leg it just looked messy and I was like nope can't have dat lol] vacuumed mudroom [which I really call the "Den" but idk if people would understand what I'm talking about], talked to one of my friends [they want to hang out but i cant leave 🥲] gave somebody advice for what could be good for their new leopard gecko, took the dogs outside, gave one of my dogs her medicine, gave both dogs a treat, got startled by a big fluffy bee that somehow ended up inside but soon started talking to her like I would to any animal, left and made some sugar water for said bee, came back and found not one but two wasps in that same room and freaked out [literally ran away, somehow without spilling the sugar water- I'm terrified of wasps- dunno if I'm allergic to their stings like my mother is or not-], eventually went back to open a window and placed the sugar water that I put in a bottle cap and a fake flower [I thought that maybe the bright colors would entice the buggers] on the windowsill [lost sight of the wasps- I'm scared 😟], ran back out quickly, and now I'm writing this as I sit on the couch-

Oh I've also been bouncing around giggling and screeching and yapping absolute nonsense [I think I at one point I said something about *ahem* fragging Ratchet oop 🤭] I feel so little and I'm happy wooooooooo things have been so hard lately but today I feel so alive I don't remember the last time I felt like this-

Hold on, gonna see if the bee went to the sugar water-

No but the flower fell-

And why tf am I supposed to have a "Senior Check-in" with my school guidance counselor in a few minutes like I'm on fragging break right now wtf no thankie you I don't wanna go away ya dummy calendar reminder I don't remember agreeing to this YOU WANNA FIGHT WELL THEN HAVE AT THEE 🤺

Yeeeeeeeeeeeee

GOSH DANG SNAPCHAT KEEPS STARTLING ME WITH ITS DANG NOTIFICATIONS LIKE I GET IT YOU GUYS I'LL LOOK WHEN I CAN PLEASE HOLD ON I'LL LOOK AT YOUR STORY SOON MY DEAR PLATONIC TRANS SON

I dunno if it's the coffee or that I'm just alone and free to just be myself but man I feel awesome

I COULD FIGHT THE DANG SKY HAHA 🔥

Omg I was bored and looked up "emo hair cut" on pinterest and look-

OMG WHAT I JUST WANTED TO SEE SOME HAIRSTYLES WTF LITERALLY LOOKED AT THIS AND SAID "HA" not even an actual laugh just "HA"

Ah what a day it is already-

Wow what a long post-

EeeeeeEeeeeeEEeeeeeEeeeeeEEeeeeeEeeeee)

[qqchurch]

I blame Symphogear's setting for bringing up the "legendary relics" thing because it's been a while since I've had a plot itch on how to make an "Emiya Shirou is reincarnated into the Symphogear setting" fic

and as it should be expected, Shirou's gonna be reincarnated into a girl 💀

the question now is if I pick Heaven's Failure Shirou, Oath Under Snow Shirou, or a Shirou from F/SN as the basis for characterization but the details will work itself out later...

the vague idea would be something like femShirou acting as a vigilante and using projected Symphogears to fight Noise outbreaks outside of the main Symphogear plot culminating to something like using Kanshou and Bakuya as her "true" Symphogear (or even finding the actual ones in-setting)

honestly, it'd probably be more of a fun exercise in song writing to puzzle out the character arc of this AU Shirou than anything else, a lot of the power level stuff can be put on the wayside since it's never that important

[creatively-cosmic]

in loving memory

or: what did @pkmn-monochrome mean by this

[voidimp]

honestly as someone who never really got into lotr but independently also came up with the idea that the most sensible way to handwave everyone in a fictional setting speaking english & using terms that would have no reason to have originated in that setting is to just pretend its all a translation/localization of whatever language theyre actually speaking, it was such a relief to learn that tolkien also did that. like oh ok so im not crazy for wanting to do it that way. or like, maybe i am, but at least in the same way that a wildly successful fantasy author was, so i think im good

[clouds-oc-corner]

started rotatinf my little guys again, specifically the high school crew, and I think I should introduce some magical element to their world tbh. I don't know if I can write a straight up highschool drama hfhfhdh

[scamera-writes]

[wip poem] the citys' song falls on deaf ears

what if i died what if you died what if we all died would you miss me would i miss you would the world miss us i hope you would i hope i would i hope the world would

i hope the world weeps for us i hope the city withers and shrinks back without our love i hope the city wails and their song drives away the life i hope the city wraps up our corpses and holds a burial in our name

[takami-takami]

Wait have I ever written just straight up normal sex. Oh my god.

[sepiasys]

Oh, before I forget

I (🦊) tried to like. Headspace shit. And I ask 👑 stuff bc we're all so obsessed with him ig 🙄 (He honestly stands out the most, even tho he like. Never or rarely fronts.)(It's cuz he's british /t /j)

But yeah I asked him smth and he like. Bro did a shush gesture. I dont even remember what I asked??? But it was smth when we were gonna ask if he wanted out, like. Try and TALK and see if he was interested in fronting (since everyone wants him out 🙄). But yeah no.

This version we have in our head just likes to be a cheeky bastard sometimes ig =_= Even tho most of the time he. Like... isn't.

Also thinking about if we tried to use music as a trigger for him (which like doesnt work), it would have to be something at a slower pace, lower bpm or smth. Most of us can't rlly handle anything slow though. Probably related to adhd or some shit idfk

Idk man.

[waywardsalt]

beating back my own ambitions like look i have a hard enough time reigning in my own ideas dont be pulling this shit

[yumeboshi]

𝜗𝜚。．．❛ #02. XXX!

𐙚 topic。．hcs of random things that turn on hsr men

．。𝜗𝜚 cw。suggestive content, i wrote this with no brain, MINORS DNI

．。𝜗𝜚 a/n。aven, sunday, and blade. I wanna write for my bootyhill but i need to study him more to get a grip of him lol

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE ⇢ rebuking his argument in a fight

。i js know he would go crazy when you do this 。he’d find people who just agree with him as boring. To him it may look even insincere 。but you? countering his smartly crafted arguments with irresistible logic with your pretty brain, glaring at him as you do with those adorable eyes? 。this man would go from being mad to being horny. tbh he would have probably already been horny in the argument 。nobody can be more masochistic than he is

“ARE YOU STUPID?” You glare at your boyfriend who looks nonchalant as he idly examines the coin between his fingers. “Fucking look at me. Do you know what happens when you join forces with them? You’re just risking the IPC and it will eventually lead to your unfortunate befall.”

You continue barreling on furiously with concrete points. Every time you prove him wrong, his eyes dance and he tries his hardest to bite back the grin that plays at his lips as you rant on. You are so perfect, he thinks- he is nonetheless impressed at you, your wondrous little brain. Something snaps inside of him when he sees you focused on derailing his points, your lips moving quickly to spit out syllables. He feels a loud moan caught in his throat.

“I get it, I’m sorry, princess, I won’t do it.” he suddenly surrenders and you eye him suspiciously as he advances, hands sneaking up to your back. “Let’s talk this out in bed, ‘m gonna apologize to you there.” He says softly, giving you lovely kisses along your neck but the way his fingers dig into your skin lets you know he’s not going to wait any longer.

And you will be confused as hell, because although you did win the argument, you feel like you just lost something else, a hidden little game he never taught you the rules to.

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY ⇢ whipped cream on your lips

。hear me out… i have a gut feeling he likes it a little too much 。ik it’s totally random but he will go nuts when he sees you bite down a particularly creamy cake that promptly smears its remains over your mouth- he tries to think of something more dignified, but he just can’t. His poor brain keeps returning to the most vulgar visuals of you. 。he will always point out whatever you had near your mouth when you two eat, because he’s such a clean freak, but anything with cream, specifically white whipped cream, he will be unable to comment on it and fall weirdly silent to he point you are confused why you not hear his scolding to wipe your mouth. 。he’ll just watch you eat dessert with a smile on your face as you savor the taste innocently. Unfortunately his brain is not, and he will start to feel his cock struggle under the fabric. 。”you have cream over your mouth, sweetheart. should i clean it for you?” he’ll sound restrained, like he’s being choked but his expression doesn’t waver. 。and after he found out his new obsession, he will literally only buy you huge whipped cream cakes for dessert.

“THE CAKE HERE IS SO GOOD.” You savor the taste happily and dig into the whipped cream cake and eat without much care. “Where’s it from?”

Sunday is too busy staring at you to register that. The creamy ring around your pink lips. It bothers him in a bad way. It’s making him feel like he is out of breath. His wings flicker wildly like a cooling fan, trying to blow off the heat that suddenly started to build inside his stomach like a raging primal flame that’s trapped by his own conscience.

You tap his shoulder gently and he snaps back to reality and tries to stare at your eyes instead, yes, lovely eyes, he thinks- your words phase in and out as he gulps, darting his eyes back to the cake.

“…the brand? The cake brand?” You ask again, frowning at his silence.

“Ah, yes, sorry, sweetheart. I was thinking of something else for a moment.” He breathlessly apologizes, the words spilling out a little too quickly like an excuse that makes your frown deepen in confusion— he closes his eyes and opens them again so the heat will ebb away. But his plans are obliterated when you take a portion of the cake and eat it, all while looking at him in the eye with curious doe eyes.

That’s when he can’t restrain himself anymore. He suddenly seizes your chin with his gloved hand, making you squeal in surprise when he practically devours your lips, licking up the cream residue around them roughly before shoving it inside your mouth with his tongue. The sweet cream melts when it gets to your mouth, mixing with his saliva that dips down your chin to make messy thick lines.

“It was from a shop at Golden Hour. I hope you like the taste,” he’d say as if he didn’t just feast on your mouth like a starved beast. “Me personally, i think it’s a tad too sweet.”

#BྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིLADE ⇢ treating his wounds

。it’s ironic because Blade doesn’t want to be healed at all 。but how could he refuse you you’re frantically at his door with an emergency kit, worry written all over you- you are like a cute puppy that keeps following him around. 。he lets you do it reluctantly at first, grumbling about it inwardly 。but when you lift up his shirt with no hesitation to put gauze to soak in the blood, his muscles tense visibly, when your touch ghosts over his skin like tiny little lilies blooming in their wake. 。what have you done to him? He feels nothing but tension and something he didn’t want to register, something a little too pleasant to him. 。and at some point he will actually look forward to having his would treated by you. He still likes pain, but he likes your touch drifting over his bruised skin like an innocent butterfly way more.

“DOES IT HURT?” You softly pat the ointment around another fresh scar on his broad chest. It pains you to see that most of the scars are near his heart. You sigh like a worried mother. “You worry me.���

“I enjoy it,” he grunts in response, but his brain ran a quick recap. Enjoy what? The pain? Or your smooth touch?

“Stay still,” you say, and he does, as you carefully squeeze in another ointment into an ugly looking scar. His eyes never leave you the whole time, his muscles tense at the pain but otherwise he’s relaxed. His intimidating stare makes you scared a little, considering this mysterious man didn’t speak his mind often.

“I think that’s it,” you say, quickly trying to lower Blade’s shirt back- but the man grabs your wrist mid-action. You jump, confused. His eyes are unreadable but he states, “You’re not done.”

you frown in puzzlement. “I double-checked, im pretty sure I didn’t miss a spot.”

He lifts his shirt up and with his bandaged finger, cuts open the scar you just treated for him, making it ooze another layer of fresh blood around the dried wound. His lips form a rare smirk as he looks at your wide-eyed stare.

“There, you have a new wound to work on.”

He will do that until you are out of ointment, and the next day he will come visit you first this time with another set of fresh scars.

[i-starcreamed]

Can I request how Megs would feel if he fought his beloved, reader needs to beat some sense to him and help him from being blinded with hatred. (Tf one plz) Also I want a good ending cuz I'm still sad about the movie. And if it isn't obvious cybertronian reader.

MEGATRON X READER

Obviously Tf One spoilers! God this was so fun to write, I just hope I got their personalities right. I haven't written anything this long in a while !! Also I never knew I'd be so much of a Megatron enjoyer until this movie...yeah, it took me this long.

[ cybertronian! reader Angst and eventually fluff, could be pretty rushed tbh but I just want him to healll. Very NOT canon to the movie

You knew it wasn’t your D-16 the moment his optics changed. Or maybe it was the way he distanced himself from you and your friends in a matter of hours--maybe minutes. It was a subconscious, subtle shift, but one you wished you could have talked him out of.

You suppose you saw the changed D-16 once you made it to the hideout of the High Guard fliers. Your once-kind, responsible lover was gripping Starscream by the neck, his hold tightening with every word from the flier beneath him.

You glanced at Orion, Elita, and Bee, all frozen in horror. You panicked and you stepped forward, placing your servo on his shoulder. Before you could continue, he whirled around, optics burning with a cold, harsh light—practically glaring at you.

“Y/N…“

“D, what the hell are you doing?!” You demanded, your voice steady despite his glare. “This isn’t like you, this isn’t the way, come on.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, his optics locked onto Starscream again. He was seething, the flier grinning through the pain wasn't helping your case either.

“Come on, do it! Do it, don’t be a c-coward!” Starscream sputtered through glitching vocal processors, even as D-16’s servo squeezed harder, threatening to crush the life from him.

D-16 narrowed his optics, “I’m not a coward!” He roared as Starscream’s cackling turned into garbled screeches

You attempted to push him away, roughly shoving him by the shoulder. “D, stop it!” He shoved you back. The sudden force sent you stumbling, and when you steadied yourself, you found yourself staring down the barrel of his arm cannon. His orange optics were locked on you, but for a fleeting moment, they softened. It was like he didn't recognize you, but then he hesitated.

“Stay out of my way, from now on.” He said lowly, as if his words pained him. “Please.”

His hesitation vanished as the cannon swung back toward Starscream. You stood there, stunned, until Orion and Elita rushed over to pull you up. Then you just stood and did nothing.

You watched in horror as D-16 continued to declare himself as someone they should follow to victory. Oh, you knew how much he wanted Sentinel dead now. Hell, you did too. But you weren’t sure if this was the right way. You weren’t a bad bot. Neither was D-16, he never was. You had to do something...before things got bad.

You recalled the moment just before he…snapped.

___

“Y/N, don’t you see? He’s been lying this whole time.” “Yes, D. I see, I know. But—“ “I want him dead. I just-I need..I need to see him suffer. Look what he did. To you. To me. To us. We could have been..so much more.” He placed his servo over your spark, right above where your transformation cog was. He used to dream of you two racing together, having fun. Hell, flying even. Back then he didn’t know what he would transform into. “We can still be more, D. We have a bigger purpose now, we were given the ability to transform by a prime himself. We just need to..show everyone the truth. And we will. Then we can—“ “It’s not enough.” He blurted out, pulling you closer as if it was the last time he’d hold you. “You deserve so much better. I promise you, Y/N. I promise you he will pay.”

___

Things only got worse from there. You reached your breaking point when you saw D-16—no, Megatron—vanish Orion himself. You couldn’t believe it. They were like brothers. And now, your beloved had become something else entirely. And yet, you still felt helpless.

You rushed over, avoiding and pushing the other bots as you made your way to where D-16 stood. They all cheered him on as he was trying to lift Sentinel into the air. He was going to kill him. He really was.

“D, stop it! Look what you’ve done!” You shouted, stomping your way forward, frustration boiling inside. You slammed your shaking fist into his shoulder. Primus, you were pissed at him right now.

“Please, please! Tell me what the hell you’re doing. This wasn’t a part of the plan.” You pleaded with him, hoping you’d somehow get him to react. Instead, he inched closer, the same stance you’d expect of someone challenging you. “No, you’re wrong. This was the plan. It was what had to be done. How can I get you to see that.” He visibly calmed for a moment, reaching out a servo to brush against the side of your faceplate. Despite everything, it’s still him. And he loved you.

You hesitated, then stepped back. Oh, how it pained you. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand your goal.” You said, barely above a whisper. Time seemed to freeze, and he slowly lowered his arm. In an instant, you watched his gaze darken.

“Then you’re just in my way.”

__

Your hopes were revived as Orion, now as Optimus Prime, came back, the matrix of leadership implanted into his chest. Optimus had saved the life of Sentinel (perhaps a little undeserved), knowing there was another way to deal with this. But now he has to save..practically all of Iacon. Maybe just maybe, between the two of you, you can stop Megatron.

The fight between the two friends wasn’t solving anything, you only feared they’d end up killing each other. You got rid of your fear, inserting yourself in the fight just as they managed to gain some distance from eachother. He grunted as you shoved him harder this time, his footing a bit unsteady from his existing injuries.

“What are yo—“

“I told you, stop. This,” you punctuated every word with a shove. “Is. Madness!” You panted, glaring up at your lover. “Come back to me, D. This isn’t the real you. I know it isn’t.” You pleaded, he responded with an irritated grunt.

“I, am Megatron. Not D-16, I am not that bot anymore. Y/N, stand down-“

“No! You stand down! You’re acting foolishly right now! I won't just stand here and watch you destroy yourself and--” You yelled, going straight for him to push him again, but he stopped you with a raise of his cannon. You froze in your tracks.

"Back down, Y/N." He said with a growl. You narrowed your optics, leaning your frame right up against the barrel, hearing a light clink.. The glow illuminated your armor. For a second, you saw his optics widen. He paused, licking his teeth. "I don't want to fight you. But I-"

"But you will if you have to, right? That's what you were going to say? Do it then," Your voice cracked, "I have nothing left to lose."

He huffed, so be it. He lunged towards you, and you raised your arms, blocking the strike. You opened up to move his blaster out of the way, leaving your side open to his incoming fist. It collided with your side, sparks flying from the contact. You grunted, stumbling back. When he came at you again, you caught his arm, pulling him close until you were face to face.

"We're both being foolish right now, are you happy yet? You panted, he grits his teeth.

"Quit saying that!" He growled, shoving you away. He shot his cannon, the blast flying past your side. You slid to avoid it, earning another blast from him. He fired his cannon, but the shot missed. He was aiming wide on purpose. You blinked, you knew his aim wasn't that bad...primus, he really was missing on purpose. If you weren't fighting right now, you'd swoon.

"Are you missing on purpose?" You asked incredulously.

"No! I.. yes..no! Listen to me, Y/N. We can end this now, if you let me do this one thing."

"You've already done enough. D..."

"Don't call me that."

He lunged again, but this time, you sidestepped, charging into him and sending him crashing to the ground, the side of his face hit the ground. You managed to pin him momentarily, struggling to keep him from standing.

"This isn't what you want. Trust me.." You paused. "Megs. Please."

He tensed beneath you, then slightly loosened as you called him 'Megs.'

"This is revenge, it won't help you feel any better. Not long-term. You'll only continue hating and hating, I can't bear to lose you like this. It's...it's tearing us apart." You shuddered, loosening your grip.

Eventually, you felt his breathing slow to a decent pace, slowly, you climbed off him, kneeling beside him. He sighed. "I..I don't know how to stop." He quietly said. You leaned forward, placing a servo against his jaw. "I can help you. I will help you. Megs, you have me with you. You have..Optimus with you. We're all with you."

You both knelt silently for a moment, gathering each other's thoughts. Finally, he had the courage to look up at you. You might never see those big yellow optics of his again, but at least now they weren't so cold. They held some type of sincerity. "I'm..so sorry." He breathed out.

You almost sighed in relief. "You're still angry, and that's okay, alright? Now it's my turn to promise you, we'll deal with this differently. It won't feel fair at first, but it's the right thing to do. Stand up." You gently said, extending your servo out to him. He slowly took your servo, his grip as gentle, almost afraid of breaking you. Primus, how he regrets hurting you. You can see it written all over his face. He was blinded by rage, he was indeed acting foolish. His optics briefly flicked to Sentinel, still on the ground and honestly, grateful to still be in one single piece. He turned away before the anger could return.

"I didn't want to hurt you," He whispered.

You softly scoffed, gently nudging him. This time, without any defensive intent. "You controlled yourself better than I did. I wanted to beat your aft, D-- Megs." You joked, earning a small, bittersweet smile.

You took your servos in his, softly smiling at him. You turned to Optimus, who was just as relieved as you were. "Optimus, do you think Megs and I can help rebuild Iacon? The way it's supposed to be?"

Optimus smiled gently, looking proud. "Of course you can. We all can." He looked at Megatron, his gaze firm but kind. "I am glad to have you back, friend."

Megatron nodded, still tense but..accepting. One day, they'll be as brothers again. You just know it. "As am I." He said, turning to you. His gaze softened. "Y/N...I love you."

"I love you as well, Megs."

[quin-ns]

Eventually (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

Word count: 6.7k

Summary: Coriolanus could appreciate irony, but the one person he desires more than anything wanting nothing to do with him pushes him to new territory

Tags: (18+), cw: noncon, dark!coriolanus, deeply implied stalker!coriolanus, unreliable narrator coriolanus (boy is delusional tbh, no one is doing more mental gymnastics than him), pre-mentor era, obsession, unprotected sex, choking (only for like a second), virginity status undisclosed but as I was writing I began to imagine this being the first time for both of them—it’s not even implied tho, so do with that what you will

A/N: a character as evil as him I couldn’t conceive writing fluff for. he’s bad and guess what I’m not gonna fix him, but I also can’t make him not-hot so… hehe. please read the tags and proceed with caution <3

Misc masterlist + main masterlist

You wanted nothing to do with him, and that made him crazy.

No, if anything, you were the crazy one. Coriolanus hadn’t done anything but try to be your friend, but you snubbed him without reason.

Coriolanus did a good job at keeping the financial situation of his family a secret. No one knew, and he doubted you were an exception. Yet, it was as if you looked down upon him.

Although, you’d grown fond of Sejanus, so even if you did know, status wasn’t a concern of yours. It was something he admired, yet questioned all at once. There had to be a reason for your dismissal. A reason you couldn’t bring yourself to even offer a smile back. It’s not like he was asking a lot.

It’s not like he wasn’t trying, either. He’d gotten used to trying to make people like him, to see him as better than he was, but it was never this hard. It would’ve been so much simpler if you just told him to his face what your problem was, but whenever he came around, mostly when you were talking to Sejanus—they were friends, it was the perfect excuse—you just went quiet. You’d greet him, make no effort to continue the conversation, then excuse yourself.

All Coriolanus wanted to know was why.

“You’re watching her again,” Clemensia whispered to him, eyes flicking between him and the paper in front of her.

They were class partners, but Coriolanus was beginning to think he spent too much time with her.

“Who?”

Clemensia let out a small chuckle, mocking him. The professor at the front of the class looked up, and Coriolanus quickly looked down at his paper, taking his eyes off of you.

“You’re too obvious,” she muttered, a smirk in her voice. “Maybe that’s why she doesn’t like you. Because you stare at her too much.”

She didn’t get a response—it didn’t deserve one. Coriolanus questioned why he ever told her anything. She made him sound like some sort of stalker. Which, for the record, he was not.

His eyes managing to find you frequently wasn’t a crime, and neither was crossing your path. Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence most of the time, but it’s not as if he was harming you by watching you. He doubted you noticed anyway.

Seeing you nearly everyday had been enough to keep him sated, but then Sejanus started talking about you. Through no fault of his own, Coriolanus learned things about you. What he came to know made him curious to discover more. Even if you did not seem keen to let him.

Being content with what he had didn’t keep its appeal for long. Not when you were right there, your presence taunting him. Making him want what you would not let him have.

“You just need to talk to her, Coryo,” Tigris told him one evening, when he revealed everything to her. “Not in class and not with Sejanus. Just you. Let her know the real you and I promise she’ll like what she sees.”

Coriolanus took his cousin’s advice to heart. She was much more empathetic than him, she had to be onto something, right?

Everything changed when Coriolanus sat across from you at a study table in the library.

As beautiful as you were from a distance, being up close was something else entirely. He could admire you for hours and never get tired.

You looked up at him, he smiled and said hello just like Tigris advised. The smile you returned seemed forced, and you ignored that he had spoken.

It upset him, but not as much as when you got up and walked out. It was the last straw. Coriolanus was following you into the hall before he could think better of it.

He caught up to you, dropping his hand to your shoulder to make you turn around and face him. When you did, you looked surprised. That wasn’t what made Coriolanus hesitate, but the realization that he had never been this close to you before. Not even sitting across from you compared to touching you.

His heart skipped a beat.

“What do you want?” you questioned, a level of annoyance he thought to be unearned in your voice.

His heart started again.

“Have I done something to you?” Coriolanus confronted you, feeling a familiar sense of agitation creep over him. He had to know. “To make you feel such distaste for me?”

“I don’t dislike you, Coriolanus,” you replied, calmly after recovering from your initial shock. “I’m just… indifferent to you.”

The answer confused him more than it did enrage him. He smothered the latter feeling as he observed you.

“You’re… indifferent,” he stated, not asking. His feet shifted beneath him. It hurt, for some reason. “Why?”

Your eyes narrowed ever so slightly, studying him. It was the same way you’d look at your books when you were struggling with a subject, lingering behind in class or the library until a triumphant smile crossed your face.

Only, that smile never came. Your expression just faded back to normal.

“You shouldn’t put so much weight on what other people think of you,” you advised, stepping closer to him. His breath caught in his chest. You smelled sweet, like flowers. “Especially not someone you don’t even know.”

It was then, he realized, you hadn’t moved closer to him with purpose. You’d been on your way moving past him. His eyes focused on your back as you walked away, figuring out what to say.

“I’d like to know you,” he announced earnestly, verbally trying to pull you back. “If you’d only give me a chance.”

You slowed to a stop, looking over your shoulder. Coriolanus felt as if he was on display as your eyes raked over him, determining for yourself his sincerity.

“You’re friends with Sejanus, aren’t you?” you wondered. It wasn’t what he expected, but Coriolanus nodded. You sighed, which irked him to think it was pity. “If you’d like to join us for lunch I wouldn’t be against that.”

“I’ll see you then,” he said, but you were already turning away. He kept to himself that he had already tried in the past.

His friend was nice. Too nice for his own good, truthfully. It wasn’t as if Sejanus completely abandoned him the moment he befriended you. It was more like he split his time, attending to both friendships. The only thing Coriolanus held against him was that he never tried to reintroduce the two of you. Maybe even put in a good word.

At lunch Coriolanus found you and Sejanus quickly, he knew where you liked to sit.

“Hey, Coryo,” Sejanus greeted, smiling. “About time you decided to join us.”

Coriolanus put on a smile as he sat down. “Well, I would’ve sooner, but I wasn’t sure I was welcome before.”

The comment made you smirk, in on the joke as Coriolanus looked at you.

“Who’s to say you are now?” you sarcastically replied, as if you hadn’t been the one to invite him.

Well, “invite” was being generous, but he still seized the opportunity nonetheless.

“Ignore her, she can’t help herself,” Sejanus said with a chuckle, used to your humor.

This time, when he tried to talk to you, you engaged. In between discussions of classes and assignments, Coriolanus had to dodge your quick wit.

He liked the challenge, and the next day, he went back for more. Even walked right past Clemanisa and Arachne, who tried to invite him to their table with Festus. You were waiting for him.

He noticed you and Sejanus already talking.

When he sat across from you, you raised your brows. “Seeking refuge?”

Before he could ask what you meant, you nodded your head towards the girls he’d left behind.

You knew about his friends?

“You could call it that,” he replied, a smile starting to appear.

You nodded and hummed.

“Well, what are your qualifications?”

“Excuse me?”

“You joke too much, Y/N,” Sejanus lightly scolded you, interrupting whatever path you were going down, which made you laugh. “He’s going to think you don’t like him.”

“He knows I don’t mean anything by it,” you assured, looking at Coriolanus. “I’m just trying to figure him out.”

Your tone was filled with confidence, but your face… Coriolanus wasn’t sure how to place your underlying expression. You had a shield up, he knew that much, but what did that have to do with him? Were you trying to figure out if you could let it down for him? Or something else?

“Of course,” Coriolanus answered, not taking his eyes off of you. “I’m an open book.”

“Are you, now?” You folded your arms on the table. “Your friends love to gossip, and I don’t think I’ve heard that about you.”

“It’s not my fault if they don’t know how to read,” Coriolanus quipped, proud of himself for being so quick.

None of his friends had wronged him, but the joke at their expense was worth it for what followed after.

He made you laugh. Not just smile, but truly laugh. It was exactly what he wanted, and it actually worked. Awe didn't begin to describe how it felt.

Joining your table for lunch became the best part of his day. Sometimes he forgot Sejanus was even there, far too eager to see you. He saw you all the time, of course. Watching you was a habit he had yet to break, but this was different. You were aware of his presence, and he was able to speak to you. It didn’t matter that you still seemed weary, it was enough.

Even if you didn’t like him, you still had conversations with him, so that was something.

Sometimes, if you were deep in a discussion, debating ethics—your favorite topic—it would continue beyond just the table. He’d walk you to class, wanting to hear your voice just a second longer.

“I want to meet this girl,” His grandmother declared one night, after Coriolanus drifted to the topic of you over dinner. He’d been doing it more recently.

Tigris gave him a look, a light frown. There was no way to do that without you coming to his home, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Let Coryo decide that, Grandma‘am,” Tigris insisted, patting the older woman’s shoulder.

“Well, he has feelings for Y/N,” she argued, looking at Coriolanus. He used your name enough that she remembered it. “And she likes him too—doesn’t she?”

Coriolanus gave a tight smile. “Yes, she does.”

Keeping up appearances.

“Well, that settles it, then,” Grandma‘am decided.

“I think it’s time you get to bed,” Tigris intervened, getting their grandmother up from her chair.

Later, when they were alone, Tigris asked him, “Does she even know how you feel about her?” She knew him too well. He took too long to answer. “You should tell her. From what you’ve told us, you two should be together. But it won’t happen unless you make it known how you feel.”

Coriolanus’s dreams were filled with you, as they usually were, but something was different the morning he woke up after the conversation with Tigris.

All he had to do was prove himself to you, and he knew that now.

Coriolanus found you in the library a lot, often pretending to stumble upon you. This time, he didn’t put on a facade.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he acknowledged, sitting down beside you. Often he’d sit across, but he was testing the waters. Seeing if you were put off by the proximity. “Studying for Featherly’s class?”

“I’m terrified for his test,” you confided, rubbing your temples as you hunched down at your book. “I feel like my mind has no room for anything else. I’ve memorized nothing.”

With a sigh, you sat up and pushed the book away.

“I can help you,” Coriolanus insisted, reaching for the book. He read over the page you were on, knowing he’d already perfected the subject. “You should’ve asked for me sooner.”

Maybe it was a little spiteful, but he hadn’t purposely meant it to come out that way. You still noticed it, taking your book back.

“I’m not asking for your help now, Coriolanus,” you muttered, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

You were the last of his friends to still call him that. Most everyone else called him ‘Coryo’. Not you. But you were stubborn in many ways. This too, apparently.

“I didn’t mean anything against you,” he said lightly, even chuckling a little. It was forced, but he wanted to show he wasn’t being that serious.

Using your own words on you did not have the desired effect.

“Mmmhmmm,” you hummed.

Coriolanus tilted his head down, trying to get you to meet his gaze. You gave in, facing him, looking unamused.

He wanted to wipe that look away, but didn’t know how. If he could just make you like him—

Suddenly, your watch began to beep.

“Test time,” you grumbled, taking back your book and getting up.

Coriolanus followed you down the hall and into class. The tests were already on the desks, waiting. You two were early—he noticed that because of the clock on the wall.

He walked you to your seat and wished you good luck. To his surprise, you offered the same in return. Then, he went to his own. Other students filed in quickly after, professor Featherly being the last to enter the room.

The professor declared, “Begin,” then sat at his desk in the middle of the room and began to read.

The test wasn’t easy, but Coriolanus knew what he was doing. One look around the classroom and he saw that wasn’t the case for most other students. He felt a sense of pride, until his gaze landed on you. You were one row down and four seats to the left. He’d counted before. You were fiddling with your pencil, struggling to come up with what to write down.

While he could’ve been the first to finish, Coriolanus let other students turn their tests in before him. An hour passed by, but it moved quickly.

There were only a few students left when you finally got up. You radiated an anxious energy, much like the others, but Coriolanus didn’t care about the others.

Clemensia stuck her hand up in the air, waiting for the professor to notice her, distracting Coriolanus briefly. When the professor looked up and noticed her, Clemansia got her wish.

Coriolanus considered himself lucky, convincing himself with his own mantra frequently. As he watched you leave your test on Featherly’s desk and rush from the room, he realized how he could help you.

He quickly marked down the rest of his answers, having stalled so he could leave when you did. The professor was making his way away from the desk, while Coriolanus got up and went in the opposite direction.

With a swift, hard kick to the leg, the professor's desk wobbled and papers spilled off on the other side. It looked like an accident.

Featherly looked over his shoulder at the noise.

“Sorry,” Coriolanus apologized, kneeling down behind the desk to collect the papers.

Without anyone watching, he found your test. He had no time to change the written questions, but he made quick work of erasing and re-doing the multiple choice, with his own test and knowledge as reference.

He had to give you credit for getting a decent amount correct, but not enough for a passing grade.

When Coriolanus fixed that, he stacked together the papers and placed them back on the desk and exited.

Everyone was waiting in the hall. Against tradition, the professor graded tests directly after and would call students in to give the results. It was time consuming, and kept everyone on campus after hours, which was against the rules, but perhaps he’d gotten some kind of exception.

You were leaning against the wall opposite of the classroom, talking to some girl from the class—Coriolanus didn’t bother to learn her name. He wanted to go to you, but Sejanus got to him first instead.

“How do you think you did?”

Coriolanus shrugged, looking down at his friend. “Fine, I think.” That was the humble answer, right? “How about you?”

“Not perfect, but I passed.”

Clemensia trotted out then, a confident look on her face.

“What was so important you had to ask during the test?” Coriolanus couldn’t help but wonder. She’d unknowingly helped him, after all.

“Just clarity on a question, wanted to make sure I got it right,” she answered with ease.

“And did you?”

She gave Sejanus a look.

“Yes, of course.”

The last person exited the class, and professor Featherly closed the door. And so the grading began.

One by one, the professor called people in. There was no method to the order, it seemed likely he shuffled the papers or chose which one to grade next at random.

Time passed, Coriolanus didn’t know how much exactly, but it was beginning to get dark outside. Tigris would be worried until he got home, but she’d understand. His studies came first.

Eventually, Coriolanus realized it was dwindling down to be just you and him left. He was lucky today.

The third to last student was in the classroom, leaving you across the hall from one another.

You pressed your lips together before speaking.

“Do you think you did alright?”

The corner of Coriolanus’s lip twitched up at the sound of your voice.

“Yes, I think so,” he answered humbly. “What about you?”

You let out a self deprecating laugh. “When I said I was terrified, I wasn’t being dramatic.” You sighed, accepting your fate. “I’ll have to do perfect on the next one, I guess.”

“I can help you with that,” Coriolanus offered.

The smile he gave you spawned a mirror reaction. He knew he was charming, he had to be, and this time you actually seemed receptive to it.

“Maybe you can.”

The sound of a door opening made Coriolanus turn. Arachne was leaving, a smug look on her face as she thanked the professor.

Then the door closed, and the professor graded another test. There were only two left.

“I wish he wouldn’t do it like this,” you filled the silence. “The others don’t make us wait like this.”

“It builds suspense, I suppose,” Coriolanus mused. “Keeps us on our toes.”

“That’s not something I need right now.”

“At least you have good company,” he noted flirtatiously. He couldn’t help but grin at his own words, especially when you bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling.

“Could be worse, I supposed,” you retorted.

More time passed. The door opened again.

“Coriolanus Snow,” the professor addressed him next. “Your turn.”

As expected, Coriolanus did close to perfect. One answer off. Best in the class.

Back in the hallway, when he was done, Coriolanus waited with you. He didn’t announce he was staying, he just returned to his spot against the wall.

“Don’t keep a girl waiting. How did you do?” you asked, departing from the wall.

Coriolanus wondered where you were going, but then, you stood next to him, leaning back against the wall. There was still an arms length between the two of you, but it was something. You’d gone to him for once.

“You’ll think I’m full of myself if I tell you,” he teased lightly, which made you roll your eyes.

“Maybe I already think that, so just tell me,” you insisted.

The comment made him falter.

“Best in the class,” he divulged.

You almost looked impressed. “Good for you.”

The door opened.

“Y/N L/N, you’re up.”

“Wish me luck,” you said under your breath before following Featherly in.

“Good luck.”

Coriolanus waited for you, just like before. He tapped his foot. The professor didn’t actually go over the answers, he just told you the grade. You’d have no way of knowing what he did for you, but he’d be there to share in your excitement when you discovered how well you’d done.

Or, how well he’d done for you.

Not long later, you and the professor exited the class together.

“Wasn’t expecting you to still be here,” Featherly addressed Coriolanus. “You should get going. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

Then, he left you and Coriolanus alone in the hall, presumably leaving the building.

“So,” Coriolanus began with a smile. “How did you do?”

“He asked if I’d been studying with you. Apparently we had all the same answers,” you told him, crossing your arms. “Except when I asked him to show me my exam—which I did great on, apparently—I saw answers circled that weren’t mine.”

Coriolanus hadn’t expected you to find out so quickly, but a part of him was relieved you did. It meant he got to take credit, and he could show you that he really did want the best for you.

Or, he could always lie.

“You weren scared of failing,” he finally admitted. He offered a sympathetic smile. “So I helped.”

“No, you cheated!” you accused, causing his eyes to go wide. “You’ve implicated us both. If anyone finds out…”

“Don’t be so loud,” he hissed out in a whisper, stepping closer to you. The professor could still be in the building. He doubted anyone else would be. “I just wanted to help you, okay? You needed it, so I—“

“You helped, I get it. But I didn’t ask you to do that for me, Coriolanus. I have never asked you to do anything for me,” you sneered, somewhere between offended and betrayed.

He saw the way you scanned his face—his eyes. The pleading was beginning to seep through.

A wave of realization washed over you before he even opened his mouth.

“You didn’t have to ask me to,” Coriolanus said meaningfully, stepping closer to you. “I wanted to. I wanted to help you.”

You back hit the wall. The hallway was so empty it seemed as if the subtle sound still echoed.

“I’d do anything for you, don’t you get that?”

The sound of a large door closing carried from a distance.

Coriolanus reached for your face, wishing he could take away the concern that riddled your expression. Instead, he brushed a stray piece of hair from your face.

You swallowed. Why did you look so nervous around him? You were friends now, weren’t you? You never looked scared around anyone else. Why him? Why now? His own questions frustrated him.

“We’re not supposed to be on campus after hours,” you said calmly. It was the same tone you used when you first described your indifference to him. Coriolanus thought about that moment a lot. “Featherly already left. We should leave before we get caught.”

The corners of his lips twitched down.

“We’re still talking, though, aren’t we?”

You let out a shallow breath. You had no reason to look as scared as you did.

“I think we’re done.”

Coriolanus thought back to his cousin’s advice. He could’ve followed it better if she’d written it down, perchance.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Coriolanus pondered, smiling to himself at the sight of you. “You caught my eye from the beginning and I—I couldn’t figure out why you wanted nothing to do with me.” You watched him carefully. He wondered if you could sense the dejectedness brewing. “Did you see something in me? Is that it?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted under your breath. “People like you, and you’ve been making an effort to be my friend, so I don’t know what told me to stay away from you, but something did. I’ve tried to ignore it, but I still…” you swallowed. “I don’t know.”

The confession should’ve been a relief. That’s what he imagined it would be. That you would admit the truth, and he could fix whatever misconceptions you had.

Coriolanus did not know what to do with “I don’t know”.

Staring down at you, Coriolanus noticed your back was against the wall. Literally. He hadn’t meant to put you there, but he had.

It got you to listen, didn’t it? He’d gotten an answer?

“Can we start over?” Coriolanus suggested, even throwing in a smile that would charm most anyone. It worked on you before. “We can forget all this mess.”

You blinked. You didn’t believe him.

For most people, he wouldn’t simply let numerous slights go, but for you, if it would fix whatever this was, if it meant the two of you could have a real chance, then he’d overcome his instincts—old and new.

“I’m afraid my memory is too good for that,” you finally said, looking up at him with defiance.

Defying what, was the question. It wasn’t as if you were enemies.

The thought made his jaw clench. He let out a laugh that was sharp. It lacked any sense of humor.

“Why can’t you just accept my apology?”

Your brows arched up, questioning him.

“That was supposed to be an apology?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “But it’s not as if I owe you one.”

“I never said you did. I never said anything. You took it upon yourself to insert yourself into my life and now you are not happy with your place in it. You’ve overstepped, and you need to let me leave.”

Coriolanus frowned.

“You act like I’m keeping you here by force.”

You look up at him, silently telling him you believed he was.

That frustrated him further.

In an act that jarred even him, Coriolanus pressed his palms against your shoulders and pushed you back against the wall when you tried to move away.

“This is force,” he declared sternly, leaning down, making you maintain his gaze.

Everyone liked control, but he hadn’t used it in such a physical way before. It thrilled him in an odd way.

“Get your hands off me.”

“Why should I? You already think so poorly of me, why not let you be right?”

You moved again then, trying to catch him off guard and squirm away. But Coriolanus was quick to shove you back against the wall.

“We can still start over. If you would give me a chance, I think we can be good together.”

He let one hand rise to rest on your cheek. Your skin was so smooth. He inhaled deeply, resolve slipping further as his eyes fell to your lips.

If Coriolanus could just prove it to you, he was sure you’d understand what he meant.

He leaned in cautiously, gauging your reaction. You didn’t flinch away. You tilted your chin up, even. That familiar skip of his heart returned.

Coriolanus’s lips only just brushed against yours before you reacted. He had a second of relief before you brought your knee up, jabbing him in the lower stomach, although he doubted that was where you were aiming. It was still enough of a shock to throw him off his game. He stumbled back, and in a flash, you were gone. You were running down the hall—trying to get away from him, like usual.

Only this time, he didn’t feel like letting you go.

Something he had slowly come to learn was when he wanted something, it wasn’t just going to be handed to him. Vying for the Plinth Prize highlighted that, alongside his childhood.

He caught you easily, hand snapping out like a snake to grip your arm and yank you back to him. You collided with his chest. It was like you weren’t even trying. Not really. Just toying with him.

“Am I a game to you?” Coriolanus hissed into your ear, wrapping you in his arms. “Something for you to play?”

“I haven’t done anything to you! I hardly even know you!” you defended, but it just made him hold you tighter.

“I know you,” he implored, fighting against your squirming. He lost balance and when you fell to the ground, you took him with you. Coriolanus got you onto your back, sitting on your thighs, gripping your wrists in his hands to keep you from swinging at him. You let out panicked breaths, staring up at him. “I know more than you think.”

Something about the position made the front of his pants begin to feel constricting.

“Coriolanus, you’re frightening me,” you enunciated, as if trying to reason with him.

“I’m not being unreasonable,” Coriolanus grit out, working to maintain his composure.

“What?” you questioned, brows pinching together, a deep frown on your face. Confused and scared. Coriolanus used to feel that way. “Just let me go.”

“And then what? You go back to ignoring me? No I can’t… I can’t go back to that. If you just give me a chance I can show you.”

Coriolanus didn’t know what happened next.

Tigris told him it was like he left his own head, sometimes. She said he’d get so caught up, he wouldn’t notice things. At the time he had laughed. If anyone stayed aware, it was him.

It wasn’t that he left his head, but got lost in it. Lost in his own inner monologue to realize what he was doing.

In this case, what he’d done.

Far too busy thinking of ways to convey everything he wanted to say to you, how to make you understand, visualizing your reaction, he’d already acted.

Maybe there were two people living in his mind. One with a conscience, one without. Or perhaps that was just something he used to justify his less than decent actions. An excuse. He’d never let himself know the truth. Not really. Not yet.

What he did know was what he could see. You, beneath him, clothes torn from your body. The only thing left was a shirt. Too much effort, apparently. Your wrists were snatched together in one of his hands.

The power stirred something within him.

One might say he was out of excuses when he reached for the zipper of his pants, but no one else was here, were they?

Your mouth was moving. Speaking. Maybe even yelling. Looking at him, looking around the room. He couldn’t hear a sound but his own heart thumping in his ears paired with his own eager breaths. Was that normal?

He moved, wedging himself between your legs, nudging them apart to make room for himself.

“It’s just us,” Coriolanus spoke, loud enough to hear himself. You flinched. “No one’s here.”

He gripped himself, stroking his cock, lining himself up with your entrance. His patience was running incredibly thin.

Tears pricked in your eyes. You stopped struggling at his words, accepting it for what it was. Good.

“Why are you doing this?”

He heard your voice clearly, that time, despite the strain in your tone.

Coriolanus observed you carefully, squeezing your wrists together in one hand and lovingly caressing your hip with the other.

He finally understood the answer you’d given before. He found it fitting now.

“I don’t know.”

To him, it was the truth.

The moment Coriolanus pressed himself inside of you, it was as if the rest of the world disappeared. After so long of wanting you in every way, shape, or form, this was long overdue.

“You’re perfect for me,” he breathed out. Coriolanus gave a shove of his hips, his gaze falling to your mouth as an unwilling yelp slipped out. “I knew you would be.”

You were tight, too tight, even. Unwelcoming. Yet still, you felt like home.

His hand—the one that was on your hip—drifted between your legs. He found your clit, running his thumb in small circles, trying to ease the pressure you must’ve been feeling.

Coriolanus did not want to hurt you.

He looked into unfocused eyes. Where were you? Were you trying to be somewhere else?

He let your hands go. You didn’t move to slap him or shove him or anything. You were learning.

He leaned over you more, reaching for you face with his now free hand, and ran his thumb over your cheek, encouraging your gaze to actually meet his. He smiled softly when you did. You got more beautiful every second he looked at you. It was even better when he could see you were present.

Coriolanus found himself unable to resist it, so he gave into the urge to press his lips to yours. A real kiss, this time.

Your lips were softer than he’d imagined. You made a noise when his tongue tasted your mouth. His kiss was hungry—aggressive, even. But he’d waited so long he didn’t know how to contain himself.

Your body reacted to his touch. Your bent knees inched up his hips to accommodate him, and your walls were becoming slick, accepting the invasion.

A deep moan escaped him, cock throbbing inside you at the feel. The sound was muffled by his lips pressed to yours, but he still felt vulnerable, giving himself to you in this way.

Coriolanus pulled back from the kiss, only to rest his forehead against yours and breathe out a small puff of air from his lips.

“I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you. Not even the Plinth Prize,” he confessed in a whisper.

“What’s the difference?” You finally spoke, voice wavering. “You have to earn the prize?” The accusing tone felt like a slap.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Coriolanus muttered, eyes boring into yours. “You’ll see.”

He gave you one more searing kiss before moving his hips.

A gasp that morphed into a moan clawed its way up your throat. The sound was like music to his ears. He wanted to hear it again.

He began to move more consistently, finding a pace that suited him. Rough enough to keep you present, but not so harsh as to hurt you. He wanted you to enjoy yourself, even if you were trying to avoid it.

Still figuring you out, Coriolanus found your sweet spot with a hard thrust, causing you to wince. Instinctively, you tried to push him away, just like you had before, not wanting to surrender.

You stilled when you felt his hand. He hardly realized how he’d reacted until he felt your throat bob beneath his palm.

Coriolanus retracted his hand, like your skin and shot a volt through him. His movements slowed to a stop.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized earnestly, brushing the hand through your hair gently. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Your chest heaved as you breathed shaky breaths through your nose. Your lips pressed together in a line.

You weren’t going to dignify him with a response. In a way, he understood.

Coriolanus locked his arms under your body and in a surge of strength, pulled you from the ground and into his lap. He hugged you against him, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Forgive me,” he requested softly.

You shifted in his lap, adjusting yourself to find comfort in the new position. You did not speak.

He slammed his hips up, forcing a gasp from your lips. That was something, wasn’t it?

You pulled back, and he did it again. And again. And again.

You fell against him, jarred by the change in his movements as he thrust into you. He liked it, feeling you in his lap, your chest against his, leaving you no choice but to hold onto him.

His lips latched onto the skin of your neck as he moved, barring his teeth and nipping the skin. You reacted as if he were venomous, straining away from him, but he’d left his mark.

You could pretend all you wanted that you didn’t like him, but Coriolanus could feel your body reacting to his. He could feel the way your walls squeezed around him, drawing him in, and how your body quivered as he pushed you closer to your edge.

“Just let go,” Coriolanus whispered, holding you tighter. He cradled the back of your head against him as he moved inside of you. Soothing and rough at the same time. “It’s okay, I know you want to.”

“Shut up,” you hissed into his neck, hands finding his chest.

Were you really going to try and get away from him? It was a bit late for that.

Coriolanus moved his hand between your bodies, finding your clit with the pad of his thumb, speeding along the process.

“What was that?” he taunted, feeling your legs start to shake.

A moan tore from your throat as you came around him, body slumping against his as he shoved himself deeper inside you. He wanted to feel your body tensed around him.

“That’s it,” he drawled, pressing his face to the side of your head. He inhaled, letting your scent flood him. Every sense was overwhelmed by you and if anything, it made him hunger for even more.

You became more pliable in your daze, going easily when Coriolanus laid you back down on the cold ground. He planted one hand on the ground near your head, where he held most of his weight, while the other rested on the base of your neck. Not squeezing, just resting. Reminding you of before.

Now that he’d taken care of you, made you realize the pleasure he could inflict upon you, it was his turn. Coriolanus was relentless with the thrust of his cock inside you, stretching you around him, groaning with nearly every movement. You felt so good, he never wanted to leave the warmth of your body.

You shifted beneath him, squirming as the intense feeling. Coriolanus was tempted to drag it out, to watch your face as the pleasure became too much for you to handle.

If it wasn’t for the desire to fill you, to claim you, he would’ve. There would be more times after this, he’d ensure it. He didn’t own a lot, but he treasured the things that he did.

“I can’t let you go, not now.” He meant to keep it inside his head, but the words spilled out. “You’re the only thing I want.”

At that moment, it was true.

Coriolanus gave one final shove of his hips before spilling inside of you. It crashed over him in an unexpected wave. His whole body shivered with pleasure at the feel of your body milking him. You wanted him. Your denial would eventually fade. He was sure of it.

Coriolanus let out a heavy sigh of your name as he watched your face. You’d turned your head, wincing as he filled you to the brim.

“Hey,” Coriolanus said when he finished, voice low. He ran a delicate hand over your face, persuading you to open your eyes. “We’re okay.”

As much as he didn’t want to, Coriolanus withdrew from you. You’d given up fighting against him, so he took the opportunity to help you redress. You were so pliant, it was like dressing a doll.

You rested your arms on your knees when he made you sit up. He wasn’t keeping you from moving from the floor, you chose not to.

Coriolanus watched you cautiously, searching for the same fire in you before, trying to figure out if he’d somehow snuffed it out.

There was a nagging in his gut. It was only for a brief second, but his confidence wavered.

“Can you talk to me?” he pressed, laying a hand on your shoulder and he knelt across from you, pants readjusted.

It was as if nothing happened, but you both knew that was untrue.

“Why should I?” You wrinkled your nose as you focused on the ground.

“Because, I care about you,” Coriolanus replied without thought, gaze softening. “I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I don’t think you care for me,” you said in a tone so hushed, Coriolanus wasn’t sure if you even meant for him to hear. Then, you met his eyes. The fire had only been dulled, not put out. “I think you’re a liar, Coriolanus Snow.”

His hands fell to clasp yours. He brought one to his lips, pressing a small kiss to the back of your palm. You eyed him as if he were some sort of predator, but he managed a smile nonetheless.

“Let me prove it to you, and you’ll come to learn you’ve been wrong about me all along.”

[sordidmusings]

Cuddling Headcanons - Straw Hats and the Three Unwise Men

A/N: Just mulling over something sweet and something to reference back to for my own use in future writings. I just wanna give all of them some love tbh I am a slut for affection

Includes! Zoro, Sanji, Nami, Luffy, Usopp, Mihawk, Buggy, and Shanks

Warnings: gn!reader, all fluff, opla leaning for the most part but I think it can fit both pretty well, an innuendo or two

Part 2 (drabbles for each character) here!

Enjoy some guided daydreams!

Zoro

Partial touches during naps were how he started interacting with your personal space but your lap no longer belongs to you it is now his pillow 

Honestly, basically any of you is a pillow whenever he decides - I don't care if you are significantly shorter than him he will find a way to fall asleep on your shoulder 

For more contact, you need to be the one to cling to him but he does absolutely need to be touching you at least a bit 

Once he gets used to it he’ll give you a look any time you’re depriving him of his daily intake of physical affection (the sass king will always get his tribute)

He absolutely melts like a cat in the sun if you massage at any of his muscles, could be anything as much as an evening dedicated to working out every knot he has or as simple as putting intentional pressure behind your thumb as it circles and drags along his skin

He can get nervous about kissing you when it’s not on the lips - something about it feels more vulnerable to him somehow - so if he does venture to kiss your cheek or head or shoulder or hand please reassure him with a smile or your own kisses or a firm squeeze

He gets better about being seen hugging/holding you eventually, but will never get comfortable with giving more than pecks on the cheek or forehead around the others. Maaaaaaybe the corner of your lips if he’s feeling ~spicy~

Sanji

Back hugs, back hugs, back hugs-

He’s always making sure that the two of you brush hands or arms when near each other, even after you two establish a relationship it will always give him tingles 

Likes to be very intertwined when you cuddle - if he can somehow wrap around you more then he absolutely will

He is The Best at tracing shapes gently on your skin, just like with brushing hands he never tires of it because, wow, he gets to touch you! He still can’t believe it sometimes

Very good at making you feel cherished when he holds you because of the way he always seems to take his time and ease into it and constantly caress you not to say that there’s never a time he’s hurried and ravenous 

It also helps that he’s always whispering sweet nothings to you about how wonderful you are, how beautiful and precious and lovely and kind and capable and special

When he wants to trap you while cuddling, he wraps his legs around you and uses their absurd strength for evil

He will melt if you ever do the same to him and he will happily be at your whims to cuddle until you've decided it's enough, all of you could be under attack but he is staying right where you want until you decide that he needs to move

Loooooves showering you with sweet little kisses anytime you're cuddling

He can sometimes get carried away with pda because he forgets that there’s anyone else around whoops

Nami

She has her legs on your lap always - sometimes while she's laying/leaning back, sometimes with one leg hooked over one of yours, sometimes basically sitting on your lap

She likes to be the one that is held and feels most comfortable with her face snuggled into something (please nurture her and that scared, lonely inner child)

Enjoys brushing the tip of her nose across you, especially across your cheek or neck or the tip of your own nose

She likes to hook your arms together whether you’re standing next to each other during a convo or you’re walking or she’s sitting next to you, she just loves the casual contact and how she can use it to be playful and pull you around or use it to stay close and let others know that both of you are taken do not even think about it keep moving along dude

She’s very weak to hugs where you pick her up a few inches off the ground for a second, they send her heart racing (bonus points if you’re noticeably taller or shorter than her and do this)

She’s also weak for words of affirmation, especially when you speak them to her while you hold each other in the quiet hours of night 

For some reason literally being on your lap around others is fine but if you give her a kiss to the temple while that's happening? Suddenly it's Too Much, both in how sweet it is and also because she’s being perceived while it's happening

Luffy

Any/all contact is being had whenever he’s with you

If he’s on the floor next to you then your calf is now his teddy bear, if you’re on the floor near him he’ll snatched your torso with his legs, if you’re sat near him he’s wrapping both arms around one of yours to snuggle it

One of his favorites is leaning your backs against each other, he feels really supported and the way you occasionally lean and twist your head back to nuzzle his or give him a quick kiss makes him smile with the utmost joy

He will carry and move you around in the strangest ways - fireman carry, one arm around your waist while you’re upside down, your knees hooked over his shoulders while the rest of you hangs down, you trying to koala to his side, one time you were curled completely around his waist like a pool floaty - no one understands why you two can’t be normal

Likes to be the one to hold you so he can fidget when he needs without feeling like he has to unlatch you first, this is especially when you two are laid down and/or going to be cuddling together for awhile

PDA doesn’t bother him at all, he doesn’t give a fuck if anyone sees you snuggled up together, doesn’t even occur to him that he should care 

His playfulness will come out often with dramatic “mwah!” kisses, nipping at you, blowing raspberries on your skin, and the occasional tickling

Usopp

It’s necessary for him to have his arms wrapped around you some way 

Likes to be the big spoon to feel like he’s acting as armor and protecting you, it just hits the right place in his brain that has him feeling Big and Strong in the best way

He loves when you plant a kiss on his chest, especially if you aim one directly over his heart (that is totally at a normal rate plz don’t check)

He likes to play with your hair and/or massage your neck and scalp

Big into making sure wherever the two of you are cuddling is comfy, has many extra blankets and a selection of pillows by size and firmness

Always down to cuddle but feels more comfortable if you initiate first, especially when it’s a new thing between the two of you 

He simultaneously loves pda and is nervous about pda but that nervousness is absolutely gone when he’s drunk or even pretty buzzed

Good at incorporating his head into hugs - hooking his jaw on your shoulder or on top of your head, leaning his temple gently into the side of your head, bumping you softly with his forehead 

Need background noise while you go to sleep? He’s more than happy to hold you and turn on storyteller mode. Honestly, it’s one of his favorite things to do and he cherishes that time together

When it’s bedtime stories he’s telling, his voice is so low and soothing

Mihawk

This man needs to have his hands holding something on you (your hand, your shoulder, your waist, your thigh, your back, your ass lol), 

He likes to feel wrapped around you like hes hoarding you to himself, this leads to him enjoying you laying on his chest, having all of your weight on him has him feel like he’s fully possessing you

Will definitely kiss the top of your head/your temple/your forehead/basically whatever his lips are near, not a consistent bout of them, more one deliberate peck when the need strikes him (it’s also his customary goodnight to you)

Like the other swordsman, he will give you a look if you miss a habitual touch (especially if it’s the way you usually ran a hand through his hair with a kiss to the forehead before you left the castle, that was non-negotiable it had to happen), his stare however is more the 1000 yard variety and those bright yellow eyes will bore a hole through you until you understand what you did wrong

Something about this man makes me feel his temp runs hot but not in a way that bothers him, like he doesn’t feel hot or overheated but when you touch him the difference between you two is noticeable

It’s a damn good thing that he reciprocates your physical affection, even if 70% it’s just an arm coming around you, because his stony expression makes it easy to assume that your touches are unwanted 

This type of limited response is mostly for more casual cuddling like hugs or sitting next to each other because when you’re laying together his face is always soft and he’s much greedier to be pressing into you

Okay with some pda like quick and passing touches including kisses, but not a fan of anything more intimate when others can see

Buggy

The Chairrrrrr, as you’ve told him it’s circUS so both of you need to be on the throne (If he’s wanting to look extra powerful or intimidating you have no problem sitting at his feet and holding him like a heroine on a 70s fantasy novel)

He’s a big fan of any possessive gestures - arm around shoulders, back hugs, pulling you to wrap your arms around him, having you sit in his lap

He’s a cuddle switch for sure because sometimes he needs to hold you to remind himself that you’re his and sometimes he needs to feel held

Very fragile for gentle affection - please draw shapes on this man’s back, play with his hair and massage his scalp, give him head kisses, hand kisses, wrist kisses 

Feels like his heart will explode if you nuzzle your face into him whether its into his chest or the side of his head or good lord his pALM (He may have literally fallen apart the first time you did that and if you’re ever in the mood for some Entertainment bring it up) 

He is actually made for cuddling because if his arm is uncomfortable to lay on or starting to fall asleep? He can detach it and now it’s your stuffed animal. This can extend to literally any part of him that either of you feels is getting in the way of the perfect cuddle 

Need to feel needed? The way he’ll pull you into him and hold you like you’re going to disappear will let you know he needs you

Absolutely LIVES for pda, he gets to show you off to everyone and have your gorgeous self make him shine brighter in the spotlight? Nothing could be better

Shanks

Sharing his space often means one of you sitting between the others legs, whether one is on the floor in front of the other’s seat or y’all are laying down together with one settled further down the bed, this often leads to you laying your head on the hip or stomach or upper thigh of the other 

He mostly likes to be on his back or stomach and pretty splayed out, so you’ve adjusted yourself to gripping to him after he’s taken over the bed

It always makes him soft to think about you always choosing to cling to him without him having to hold you there, it really drives home that he’s something you actively want

Will grope you, sometimes sexually, but he also just likes the feeling of grabbing you, it’s somewhat of a manifestation of cute aggression 

He’s a sucker for getting his neck/shoulders/upper back rubbed while cuddling (which is a pain if he’s decided to be on his back) and he is not above bargaining for it or prodding you like an indignant pet each time you stop (very good puppy eyes), this is one of his favorite perks of having you in his lap

He’s another one to not care about being seen by others but not because it hasn’t occurred to him (like Luffy) but because anyone judging him is WAY less important than getting more affection from you 

His heart gets really tender when you lay with him and massage the stump of his arm and the shoulder above it because it helps with the phantom pains when he has them, it also help with the tension from using the muscles on that side to compensate, and it reminds him how the only thing about his arm that bothers you is that it hurts him

Part 2 (ficlets) here!

[sematarygirls]

        COWBOY!RAFE x FEM!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ oral (m! receiving), reader is kinda sheltered, mommy issues, parental death, running away from home, getting picked up by a handsome stranger

NOTES .ᐟ this was pretty fun to write tbh. i started this like a year ago and recently found it in my drafts, which led me here, so i hope yall enjoy it as much as i do.

Your worn cowboy boots thudded against the asphalt as you walked down the deserted country road, dragging your suitcase along. The summer sun shone brightly overhead, heating the atmosphere and causing a thin layer of sweat to coat your body. Your daddy's old cowboy hat sat atop your head, shielding your face from the sun's unrelenting, unforgiving rays. A loose white sundress swished softly with every step you took, slowly making your way farther and farther from your old life.

The death of your beloved father sent your already troubled mother into a state of disrepair. You watched as the mother that had sung you soft lullabies and stayed with you until you fell asleep transformed into someone you didn't recognize.

Most nights, you weren't sure where she was or if she was even alive until she inevitably came stumbling home in a drunken stupor through the front door of your little farmhouse in bumfuck nowhere, the screen door slamming behind her and startling you awake.

On the rare occasion that you saw her, she seemed to look through you. Her eyes were sunken with dark circles underneath them that greatly contrasted how bright and full of life they once had been. She was a shell of the woman she once was.

You tried your best to be there for her, but eventually, you realized that she wasn't going to change. She didn't want to get better, and you couldn't force her to.

On your eighteenth birthday, you made a difficult decision. You had been weighing it for a long time, wondering if you were doing the right thing. You wondered if your dad would be disappointed in you, if he would've wanted you to stay, but eventually, you knew that you had to do what was best for you.

You couldn't handle the constant worrying, only to be greeted with a cold shoulder the few times you did see your mother. You felt like you'd never have a life of your own in that house, suffocated by the memories of the happy family that once lived within the walls. You needed to start fresh—to give yourself the opportunity to be something more than a small town drunk like your mom.

You were leaving, and you were never coming back.

And for the first time in a long time, you had something to look forward to. You had a future that didn't revolve around taking care of someone else. You had hope that you could find something better out there, something more than this lonely life you'd grown so accustomed to.

You grabbed an old suitcase from the basement and threw it onto your bed. Opening it, your heart ached as you saw your name written in black sharpie on the light brown fabric. It was written in your father's handwriting, little doodles of stars and hearts surrounding it. For a moment, you had second thoughts about your decision, but ultimately, you pushed them away. you knew he would've wanted you to live a life worth something. He wouldn't want you to be confined to this house, worrying whether your mother would make it home every night.

You packed an assortment of clothing and little items that held sentimental value to you. You knew you had to choose carefully because there was only so much you could bring. Rifling around in your closet, you discovered your father's old cowboy hat. You stuffed it into the way back the day of his funeral, never wanting to see it again, but now, you knew you needed it more than ever.

It served as a reminder of home—not the house you were running away from, but the home that had once been filled with life and love. It reminded you of cold winter nights spent huddled by the fire and spooky stories told during thunderstorms. It reminded you of dancing in the kitchen while the three of you prepared dinner and listening to the rock station with a popsicle in hand as you curiously watched your dad work on his truck. It reminded you of a time before forehead kisses and goodnight stories were replaced by slamming screen doors and absent mothers.

You placed the hat atop your packed suitcase and went to sleep, your plan for tomorrow already set in motion. You woke up before your mother, quickly getting dressed and gathering your things before creeping into the living room. She was nowhere to be seen, probably having actually made it to her bedroom that night, but her purse was laying on the kitchen counter, a couple items spilling out from the way she had haphazardly thrown it when she got home.

Careful to not make any noise, you rummaged through, looking for her wallet. You didn't expect to find much, but you would take what you could get. After stuffing the cash you could find into your bra, so in the event that your suitcase was stolen, you'd still have something to your name, you took one last look around. You admired the height markings your father had made on the doorway, and the hole in the wall that he always swore he'd get around to fixing after bringing in a new couch went terribly wrong. A sad smile graced your face as you said goodbye to the place that had been your only home for as long as you'd known, turning the page and getting ready to embark on your journey to a new life.

Walking through the front door with your suitcase trailing behind you was like a weight had suddenly been lifted from your shoulders. For the first time in a long time, you didn't know what would happen next, and it frightened you in a way that was exhilarating.

The sound of a car approaching made you jump a little, the sound cutting through the quiet atmosphere that had previously only been filled with the light swishing of your dress, the sound of your suitcase wheels and boots on the asphalt, and the occasional chirp of birds. It was rare to encounter people on the deserted road you were traveling down since the area you were in was secluded and a good few miles from any houses or towns, so you knew to be cautious.

You turned your head, tilting the cowboy hat up to get a better look at the approaching vehicle and it's driver. It was an old grey-blue pickup truck with a white roof, a thin layer of dirt and grime built up along the exterior. You squinted your eyes to try and get a better look at the driver as they got closer, but the glare from the sun on the windshield hindered your view.

Hesitantly, you looked away from the truck, your gaze returning forward as you waited for it to pass, but to your surprise, it didn't. You clutched your suitcase tighter as the man pulled up beside you, not stopping completely, just rolling along to keep pace with you.

When the driver rolled the window down, you turned your head to face him, continuing to walk as you studied his face. He was a handsome man; you couldn't deny that. He had bright blue eyes that shone with intrigue, his pale pink lips pulled up into a smirk that had you torn between being deeply unsettled and utterly smitten for him. His brown hair was buzzed short, and he had a bit of stubble on his chiseled jawline along with a mustache on his upper lip—something you usually wouldn't have been privy to, but he made it look effortlessly good.

"What's a pretty little thing like yourself doing out here all alone?" He asked with the faintest hint of a southern drawl, looking you up and down. It should have disgusted you—a random man hitting on you in the middle of nowhere—but for some reason, it made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

You debated on what to say. At first, you were gonna say that your mama always told you not to talk to strangers, but that sounded so childish that you immediately pushed it away. You weren't really great at talking to people. You'd often spent more time alone than with others. You simply shrugged, deciding against saying anything at all and making yourself sound foolish.

His gaze darted to your suitcase, finding himself intrigued and undeterred by your lack of an answer. "Where you headed, sweetheart?" He asked, continuing to drive beside you.

Truthfully, you didn't have a destination. You were just sorta planning to go wherever the wind took you, which admittedly, wasn't a very solid plan. "Anywhere but here," you said cryptically. It sounded a bit cheesy, but it was true. You just wanted to put as much distance between yourself and your childhood home as you possibly could.

His smirk widened into a full-blown grin as he leaned across the seat to throw open the passenger door. "Well, climb on in then. I can take you wherever you'd like to go," he offered, eyes glinting mischievously.

You didn't notice this, however. You weren't all that great at reading people due to your sheltered upbringing. You had gone to school, but it was a small one that you'd dropped out of at sixteen to try and take care of your mother.

You looked over at him, your eyes filled with hesitance as you nervously chewed your lip. You may have been a little naive, but you weren't completely stupid. You knew how unsafe it could be to catch a ride from a stranger. "That's awful kind of you, but... well, I don't think I should."

His demeanor didn't falter, an air of confidence surrounding him—like he was used to getting what he wanted, even if it took a little convincing. "I get it, darlin'," he nodded understandingly. "A pretty thing like you can't be too careful nowadays, but I promise you I ain't gonna hurt ya. Can't say the same for others, though."

Your eyes widened a bit at his words, and for the first time, you seemed to be able to look past your rose-colored glasses. You were a young woman walking alone in the middle of nowhere—an easy and vulnerable target to anyone that could have wanted to hurt you.

"Look, I ain't tryna scare ya," he said, seeming to notice the fear that his words had ignited within you. "But... well, there's a whole lotta bad people out here, sweetheart. I'd hate to go home and find that pretty face on the news or somethin'."

"Well, how do I know that you ain't some serial killer?" You asked, quirking an eyebrow. You stopped walking to face him fully, to which he abruptly stepped on the breaks.

"Serial killers don't usually offer their victim's rides now do they?" He grinned wolfishly, leaning back and draping his arm over the passenger's seat. "I reckon they usually take by force, but I s'pose I wouldn't know since I ain't one."

A frown tugged at your lips, your eyebrows furrowing in thought for a moment. "I guess you're right..." You didn't really know much about serial killers either if you were being honest. Well, not enough to know how they rounded up their victims anyway.

He grinned wider, as if he could tell that you were doubting yourself, and he found it amusing. "So, how 'bout it then? You gonna get in?"

"Promise you ain't gonna like kidnap me or somethin'?" You asked softly, apparently trusting that he would tell the truth.

His grin softened into a warm smile, and he chuckled lowly as he brought his free hand up to place over his chest. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

You nodded, seeming to accept this as an accurate description of his intentions or rather, lack thereof. You picked up your suitcase and put it into his truck bed, all the while he watched you intently, his gaze lingering on the tantalizing view of thigh that your dress provided.

You climbed into the passenger's seat, pulling the cowboy hat off your head and placing it on the dash before closing the door and buckling yourself in. You weren't really sure where this handsome stranger was going to take you, and that's when it dawned on you that you had gotten into his car without even knowing his name.

You looked over at him, finding him already staring intently at you. You offered a shy smile, your fingers playing with the hem of your dress as you softly told him your name.

"Pleasure to meet you," he said, his deep southern drawl causing your name to roll off his tongue with a warmth akin to the way the summer sun had heated your skin. He put the truck in gear, the engine purring as he continued down the desolate highway. "Name's Rafe," he introduced himself, his gaze darting to you.

"The pleasure's all mine Mr. Rafe," you said politely. The man was not that much older than you—maybe two or three years—and thus was probably nowhere near old enough to regard as Mr, but you were taught that it was respectful to do so.

He grinned at the title, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel. "Just Rafe's fine, darlin'," he insisted, casting you a sideways glance, his gaze lingering on your lips as you smiled shyly.

"Okay," you nodded, looking down at your lap as you fiddled with your dress. Rafe was awfully handsome, the hottest guy you'd ever seen by a longshot—not that that was a huge feat—and you found yourself extremely nervous with the fact that you were alone with him.

"So, what are you doin' out here all alone?" He asked, casting you a questioning glance as he took his eyes off the road briefly. "You didn't say earlier." His gaze fell to your lap, watching as your fingertips brushed the edge of your dress repeatedly, the fabric having ridden up due to your sitting position and revealed even more of your soft looking thighs.

You shrugged in response, just as you had earlier. You didn't really know how to explain your situation, and you hardly wanted to trauma dump on someone you barely knew, especially when you'd be in such close quarters for God knows how long. "I'm just... travelin'."

"Travelin'?" He echoed curiously, quirking an eyebrow. His grip tightened on the steering wheel as his gaze dropped to your thighs once more, the fabric of your dress inching up even more as you absentmindedly fiddled with it. He knew he shouldve been focused on the road and not his pretty passenger, but you were making it hard—in more ways than one. "What's got you on the road by yourself?"

"It's a long story," you mumbled, looking up and casting your gaze out the window, watching the scenery blur by as he did 80 on the interstate.

He hummed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel rhythmically as he looked back at the road. "You runnin' from somethin', sugar?" He asked curiously, your evasive nature leading him to believe that there was more to the story.

You rubbed your sweaty palms on your dress, something your father would have scolded for being unladylike. Your gaze darted to the cowboy hat on the dash as you spoke. "More like runnin' toward somethin'."

"Toward?" He asked curiously. "So, where you headed then?" He prompted, his fingers stilling their movements as he looked over at you again, trying to read your expression.

A smile pulled at your lips as you turned to him, your eyes locking for a moment. "It's more of a... metaphorical somethin'."

His eyebrows raised, intrigued by your cryptic response. Everything about you seemed to intrigue him. You were one big mystery wrapped up in just about the prettiest package he'd ever seen. "Metaphorical, huh?"

"Yknow, you got this tendency to just repeat what I say back to me in question form," you grinned, your tone slightly teasing as you settled more comfortably into conversation with the man. You examined his side profile carefully as he turned back to the road.

"And you got a tendency to talk in circles," he replied with a grin of his own, his eyes flicking back to you briefly before returning to the road. He liked looking at you, even if for a brief moment.

You thought for a moment, deciding that perhaps Rafe deserved a bit of an explanation, given that he was nice enough to give you a ride and all. "I ain't going nowhere specific," you shrugged, your eyes finding the cowboy hat again. "Just... looking for somethin' bigger, somethin' better, I s'pose."

"Bigger and better than what?" He prompted, casting another sideways glance at you. His gaze lingered on the way your lips parted as you spoke, feeling himself twitch in his jeans. He was a man that liked understanding things. He didn't like being on the outside looking in. He wanted to know everything. He was curious; it was in his nature.

"The life I had before," you said, your tone growing solemn, gaze never wavering from the worn cowboy hat as memories flashed before you.

He noted your shift in demeanor and the way you were staring at the hat like you were willing it to turn into something. "What's the deal with that?" He asked, feeling like he needed to know.

"It was my daddy's old hat," you smiled reverently. "He um- he died a couple years back," you explained, clearing your throat and tearing your gaze away to look out the window.

"I'm sorry, sugar," he said sympathetically. He wasn't the best at comforting people, but he wanted to try. He took one hand off the wheel, placing it atop one of yours on your lap, and as much as it was not the time, he couldn't help the way his dick hardened further at the feeling of your soft skin under his rough, calloused hand.

"'s fine," you felt your cheeks warm at the feeling of his large, warm hand on yours. Despite yourself and the topic of conversation, butterflies erupted in your stomach.

He left his hand there, feeling a bit like he was taking advantage of the situation but unable to pull himself away. He liked the way your lips parted and your eyes widened ever so slightly when he touched you. "So you're both runnin' toward and away from somethin' then?"

"Yeah, I s'pose," you nodded. He reluctantly pulled his hand back to the steering wheel, readjusting himself in his seat to find a more comfortable position for his hard-on. You found yourself missing his touch, his skin leaving a lingering sensation on yours.

He was hyper-aware of every little movement and sound you made. The way you shifted in your seat, the little hitch in your breath, the way your thighs pressed together. He swallowed thickly, trying to focus on the road, his jaw clenching as he tried to get a handle on his body's reaction to you.

"So, what about you?" You prompted, glancing over at him. You had told him a bit about yourself and thought it only fair you got some information in return.

"Me?" He asked, his voice a bit gruff. He cleared his throat, trying not to let his gaze wander to the way your dress's neckline dipped, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of your chest. "Well, I'm headin' home. I've been away for a couple months, workin' on a ranch up north." He said, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel as he continued to drive.

You hummed in acknowledgement. "Did you like it?" You asked awkwardly, not really knowing what else to say. You weren't awfully good at carrying conversations.

"It was alright. Good money, good people, but it ain't home." He said with a small shrug. "'Sides, I got a lot of responsibilities back home. Family 'n all that. Couldn't stay away forever."

You nodded, listening to him explain. You were a little intrigued. You'd never been anywhere outside your home town. You yearned to travel, to see what the world—or at very least the country—had to offer beyond small town gossip and local church services.

He glanced at you, wondering what was going on inside that pretty little head of yours. He wanted to know more about you, wanted to know everything. He wanted to know what you were planning to do now, why you'd actually run from home, what you tasted like, how you'd sound moaning his name, how tight you'd be wrapped around him.

You pondered your next steps during this beat of comfortable silence. You were starving, so food seemed like it needed to be the first stop on this little roadtrip of yours. Then, you figured you'd find a bus stop and hop on the first bus outta town, letting fate decide where to take you.

As you sat there lost in thought, he was watching you intently between bouts of watching the road. He noticed the way your gaze would occasionally drift out the window, the way your hands would fidget with the hem of your dress, the way your lips would purse slightly as you seemed to be debating something in your head.

"You can just drop me at the next town," you finally spoke up, turning to look back at him as you seemed to have made up your mind. A semblance of a plan was better than no plan at all. Besides, what would this new life be without a little of the unknown. You had no idea when you left that morning that you'd run into a handsome cowboy, and that had turned out to be incredibly thrilling for you.

He frowned at the prospect of you leaving him so soon. You'd only just met, but he found himself wanting to spend more time with you. "The next town?" He repeated, echoing your words back to you again like he'd done before. "And, what's the plan when you get there, huh, sweetheart?"

"Gonna catch a bus," you shrugged noncommittally. "Go wherever the wind takes me."

He let out a short, humorless laugh, clearly expressing his disproval for your so-called plan. "You ain't never been nowhere before, have you?" He asked, already knowing the answer. You seemed so innocent, so naive. He couldn't just let you wander off alone, could he?

"Well... no," a small frown tugged at your lips. "But that's kinda the whole point of goin' where the wind takes me," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

He shook his head, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. "That's a fool-proof way to end up in some real trouble, you know. A pretty little thing like yourself, wanderin' 'round alone. You could end up anywhere, with anyone."

"Well, thus far, I've ended up here, with you," you pointed out with a small smile. "So, I'd say my plan is workin' pretty well so far."

"That's only 'cause I'm a gentleman," he said, his eyes flicking briefly to yours. You couldn't help but wonder what if he wasn't such a gentleman. You weren't completely naive. You knew about sex and had always wondered what it was like, and now, with this incredibly sexy man before you, you found your thoughts particularly impure.

He watched the way your tongue flicked out to wet your lips, the way your breathing picked up ever so slightly. He could practically see the wheels turning in that head of yours. "What're you thinkin' 'bout, sugar?"

"Oh, um, nothin'," you said softly, your body heating up as his voice, so low and husky—definitely not helping your situation—tore you from your thoughts.

"Nothin', huh?" He drawled, not believing you for a second. He had been with enough women to know that look on your face, and he was pretty sure he had a good idea of where your thoughts were headed.

You bit your lip nervously. You knew he had at least some attraction to you because you had eyes. You could see the bulge in his jeans but had done everything you could to resist staring at it, despite the growing urge to reach out and touch it. You wanted to see him, feel him, maybe even taste him, but you were completely out of your depth here.

"You're thinkin' 'bout somethin' that's makin' you bite your lip and press them pretty little thighs together," he said, his voice low and sultry. "So, why don't you just tell me what it is, hmm?"

You looked over at him, your eyes widened a bit at his forward words, also at the fact that he had noticed. Though, it wasn't exactly like you were being discrete. "Wh- I- well, it's not very ladylike," you replied sheepishly.

"Sugar, there ain't nothin' ladylike 'bout the way I'm feelin' right now either," he said, his hand moving from the steering wheel to rest high up on your thigh.

You couldn't help but laugh at his choice of words, looking up at him through your lashes as you tried to find the words. "I don't know how to um- say it." You said, your heart beating nervously in your chest at a speed that doctors would probably find concerning.

"Then show me," he encouraged, his hand slowly inching higher up on your thigh. "You can do that, can't you? Show me what you were thinkin' about?"

You hesitated before nodding. You couldn't believe you were about to give a man you'd just met head for the first time in your life, but your body was moving quicker than your brain, unbuckling your seatbelt. You pulled your legs onto the seat underneath you, kneeling on the worn leather with your body facing him. You looked at him for confirmation before you made another move.

"Atta girl," he praised, his voice husky with desire. His hand moved to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair encouragingly. "Go on, sugar. Show me what that pretty mouth can do." He shifted in his seat, spreading his legs wider to give you better access.

The lack of center console in the old truck was a blessing as your fingers fumbled with his belt. You were already nervous, and you knew you didn't have to tell him that you'd never done this before because it was written all over your face.

He watched with an amused smirk as you struggled with his belt for a moment. He found your inexperience endearing. After a beat, you finally managed to undo his belt, your shaky hands moving to his jeans, popping the button and unzipping them with much more ease.

"That's it, baby. You're doin' just fine," he encouraged, his voice strained with barely contained desire. His hips lifted slightly to help you tug his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his hard cock, the tip flushed and glistening with precum. You took in a sharp breath, your eyes widening a little. You'd seen one before but never in person and never quite that big.

"Wrap your hand around it, sugar," he instructed, his voice low and commanding. His hand tightened in your hair as you wrapped your hand around the base tentatively. "Just like that. Now, stroke it. Nice and slow." You followed his directions, slowly running your hand up and down his hard length, coaxing a low groan from his throat as his hips jumped just a little at the feeling of your soft hand on him.

"Fuck, that feels good," he groaned, his head falling back against the headrest and his grip on the wheel tightening. "Now, put that pretty mouth on me." You wrapped your lips around his hot tip, sucking gently and coaxing his precum onto your tongue.

"Mmmm... That's it, sugar. Just like that," he praised, trying to keep his eyes on the road and the truck in the correct lane. His hand guided your head, his hips gently bucking forward as he slowly pushed himself deeper into your mouth. "You're doin' so good, baby."

Your fingers flexed around the base of his cock, your grip tightening ever so slightly as yoy took more of him into your mouth, your brows furrowing in concentration while you did. "Relax your throat, baby. You can take more of me," he coached gently, his hand tightening in your hair. You did as he said, trying to relax and take more of him into your warm, wet mouth. "That's it, sugar."

The combined sounds of your heavy breathing mingled with the wet noises his cock was making as it slid in and out of your mouth. You gagged a little as the tip of his cock nudged your uvula, triggering your body's built-in safety feature against choking.

He felt you gag and knew he should have pulled you back, reassured you that you could go as slow as you needed to and that there was no need to rush, but shit, you felt so good and seemed so eager; he couldn't bring himself to stop you.

He kept pushing forward, his cock hitting the back of your throat, forcing you to swallow around him. He could feel your throat constricting around his length, and it was the most incredible feeling. You whimpered around him, your nails digging into his thighs and eyes watering, but still, you didn't pull away.

Your little whimper only spurred him on, sending a vibration through him that had him moaning, his grip on your hair bordering on painful. "You're taking it so well, baby," he praised, his voice strained with pleasure. "Shit, I'm so close."

Not long after, his hips jerked forward, and he held you in place, his cock buried in your throat as he came hard with a groan, his hot cum shooting down your throat in thick, salty streams. The unfamiliar taste clung to your tongue, even after you forced the warm liquid down your throat and pulled off of him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

He sat there for a moment, trying to catch his breath and calm his racing heart before he tucked himself back into his pants with one hand, his other keeping the truck steady. "You did so good, sugar. Real good." He murmured, his voice still husky from his orgasm.

You felt a wave of satisfaction roll over you at his praise, but you didn't know exactly what to do from here. Your plans hadn't changed just because you decided to expand your sexual horizons in the front seat of a barely-stranger's truck. Though, it felt a little awkward still asking him to let out you out at the nearest town after what you'd just done.

"We'll be comin' up to the next town soon," he said, as if reading your mind. "How 'bout you let me take you out for a bite to eat, and afterwards, if you still want me to drop you at the bus station, I'll oblige," he proposed, willing to do anything to spend more time with you.

You smiled, nodding. That seemed like a perfectly reasonable request to you. Besides, you had already planned on stopping for food before heading to the bus station anyway. "Okay, that sounds nice," you agreed softly, buckling yourself back in because safety first.

"I know a real good diner in town. They serve the best burgers and milkshakes this side of the Mississippi," he said with a grin, placing his hand back on your thigh, his thumb brushing back and forth across your skin. Your smile widened, stomach doing flips at his touch, and you found yourself thinking that maybe your adventure could wait just a little while if it meant spending more time in the handsome cowboy's presence.

tags .ᐟ   @starkeysprincess / @cometmultiverse / @iheartjjmaybnk / @all4l0vee /