#its 3k words! wow!

[kitkatperce]

chat is this a real fic for my slomp au .

@maydaybytheway kuzaang fic for you … its not the main focus but its definitely there .

[not-equippedforthis]

tried to write a case fic that im now rewriting cause i realised i wanted to take a different route with after chapter 1

HOWEVER

i am writing a qpp thing of holmes n watson and im having so much fun writing it, i think im going to finish it ajkfbs

[velarisdusk]

Ice Cold Jealousy

Hockey AU | Cassian x Reader

Series Masterlist -> Part 2 - Thawing Boundaries

word count: 8.3k content: [ explicit sexual content, PWP, unprotected PIV, rough sex, oral (m & f receiving), voyeuristic elements, possessiveness/jealousy, power dynamics, little bit of overstim?, hair pulling, dirty talk, humiliation?, biting, locker room sex (it's come to my attention that hockey locker rooms don't typically have lockers but just suspend your disbelief for a sec please), inapproproate touching, insinuation that Cass stares at Az's ass teehee | violence (physical altercation, reader not involved), blood mention, strong language | no beta we die like men ] summary: Despite the tension on the ice, your relationship with Cassian, the commanding captain of the Velaris Vipers, is anything but cold. His jealousy ignites when the rest of the team's flirtations become too much to ignore. In the aftermath of a disastrous game, the boundaries between playful teasing and intense passion blur, leading to a locker room encounter that challenges both your resolve and your control. author's note: WOW, okay, this is the first fic I've written for ACOTAR, and the first fic I've written in close to a decade, so excuse me if I'm a bit rusty :) I've been going through a hockey thing lately, watching random games on youtube in their entirety, so obviously that means I had to write Cass, duh. Sorry it's on the longer side; I just had lots of ideas... like only 3k of this is plot lmfao. Enjoy!

Cassian knows they’re fucked.

You can see it on his face. With two points down and precious little time left on the clock, they need a miracle. The referee skates to center ice, puck in hand. You lean forward, breath caught in your throat, as the Velaris Vipers take their positions. The air is thick with tension, the crowd’s roar fading into a dull buzz in your ears. You knew the Hewn City Hellhounds were good, but never imagined they’d pose this much of a problem. 

Cassian’s and Azriel’s eyes meet for a moment, a silent agreement passing between them. The puck drops, and its whereabouts for the seconds after are a mystery to you. After an unruly clash of hockey sticks and a mess of bodies, Cassian passes to Azriel on his left, who takes off down the ice with it. Cassian moves to mirror him on the opposite side of the ice. The Hellhounds’ defense closes in, but Cassian and Azriel move in perfect sync, the puck zipping between their sticks in a blur. They dance around the opposition, narrowly avoiding checks, their movements so fluid they don’t need to look to know where the other will be.

Just as Azriel is about to be boxed in by two defenders, a swift flick of his wrist sends the puck to Tarquin who’s come up to support them. You let out a sigh of relief, not even having seen him since he was back by the net. 

Why is he up here instead of back by the net? Eris should’ve been there; it’s his one job as a winger to support Cassian as center in making goals. You scan the rink, but don’t need to for long. He skates right up to you with an air of nonchalance, like he doesn’t need to be with the rest of his team fighting for their lives. You give him an incredulous look, about to open your mouth and shout at him when he gets to the wall, but the words catch in your throat when he blows a kiss, tracing a heart on the glass with a smirk. You gather yourself quickly, but before you can scold him his back is already turned and he skates back toward the action.

You’ve grown accustomed to the team’s teasing, knowing it’s all in good spirit. But with Eris, there’s always been an undercurrent of something more intense, more deliberate. As he skates away now, you can’t help but wonder, not for the first time, just how far he’d take things if given the chance. You’ll never admit it out loud, but the way he cuts directly in front of the opposing team’s defenseman to get him away from Tarquin is impressive with how absentminded it seems. 

Watching them, you reflect on the years you’ve spent at their games and practices. Not only have you witnessed their drastic improvement, but you’ve also grown close to the team. Perhaps too close, if the playful flirtations are any indication. 

Yeah, maybe ‘close’ was a bit…

But it wasn’t your fault. Really! A little over three years ago, Cassian invited you to their season opener, your relationship still fresh. You hadn’t known the first thing about the sport so obviously you spent hours watching videos and frantically looking up your countless questions to ensure you wouldn’t be entirely lost. Cassian had told you on the drive home that night that word had spread rather quickly through the Vipers about the hot girl in the stands. You knew. Hot, definitely, but dumb? Oblivious? No. Of course you noticed their showing off — the goalie’s glances after skilled saves, the wingers’ risky shots, the defensemen’s aggressive checks and subsequent winks, smiles, and waves from the penalty box.

You’ve often recalled their expressions when Cassian called into the locker room for them to come meet you, when they’d seen the object of their displays throwing her arms around their captain’s neck, planting a kiss on his sweaty cheek. You weren’t necessarily shy about looking at them in their various states of undress through the doorway; some shirtless, others holding a towel in front of themselves for modesty. But Cassian introducing you as his girlfriend didn’t stop their light-hearted remarks, though they were much less blatant now. For the most part. There was still the stray push of boundaries. Neither of you have ever told them to stop. Though you both enjoyed their feeble attempts, found them entertaining, there were times you noticed him get jealous, if his clenched jaw and reddening face were anything to go by.

Tarquin deftly maneuvers around an opponent with a small spin, sending ice shavings spraying, and you aren’t sure if the move is meant to distract or simply add some flourish. He looks up and winks at you with a nod. You roll your eyes with a small smile and the puck is once again in Cassian’s possession. He either doesn’t notice or simply doesn’t care. He drives forward, eyes locked on the goal. The goalie is ready, crouched and tense, but your boys have one last trick up their sleeves. 

Cassian pulls his hockey stick back and thrusts it forward with such determination that you’re sure he’s going to take the shot. But he stops just short of the puck and in an instant pushes it left and back, where Azriel is perfectly positioned. He doesn’t hesitate, slamming the puck into the net with a force that sends it rattling.

The red light flashes. Goal.

You shoot up and cheer, your shouts blending with those of the fans all around you. Previous to this, so overtaken with nerves, all you’ve been able to do is sit tight with your arms crossed, eyes darting wildly across the rink. The jovial energy doesn’t last long though. They’re still down a point, and with only a little over a minute left now, their only chance is somehow scoring and going into overtime. 

You scan the rink. The three forwards take their positions: Eris, red hair peeking from his helmet, grips his stick tightly at right wing; Azriel, ever the shadow to Cassian’s light, settles into place with calm readiness; and Cassian, commanding center ice with unmatched presence. Rhysand and Tarquin hover near the blue line, mirroring each other’s poised intensity on defense. If you were closer that way, you might be able to see their eyes darting across the ice, calculating every possible move. Helion stands sentinel before the net, gaze piercing and unwavering. Each a powerhouse, but none more commanding than Cassian at center ice.

His presence is commanding and magnetic. The weight of the game seems to rest on his broad shoulders, yet he bears it with a fierce determination you find both exhilarating and reassuring. His dark hair clings to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his eyes are locked on the opposition with a predator’s focus. You love this about him — the way he can command the rink with just a glance, the way his intensity electrifies the very air around him. 

Off the rink, he’s just as intense in a different way: reliable, attentive, deeply devoted. The moments you share away from the chaos — quiet dinners, late-night talks, and his arms holding you close as you get drunk off of each other’s wandering hands and lips for hours — are a stark contrast to the warrior before you now. It’s this duality, this balance of strength and tenderness, that never ceases to intrigue you. 

As the clock ticked down these last few plays, you could see the resolve settling in his eyes. He isn’t just playing for the team; he’s playing for you, for the life you’re building together. 

Another loud cheer from the crowd pulls you back in, and you notice the Hellhounds have taken back possession of the puck and are rapidly approaching Helion at the goal. Rhysand intercepts a pass and carries it around the back of the goal to shoot the puck forward along the side of the rink. Where Eris is supposed to receive it, the Hellhounds’ center intercepts and, guarded by a winger on either side, plows back down the ice towards the Vipers’ goal. Their wingers do a decent job of clearing a path for him. He takes the shot, and Helion miraculously changes the trajectory of the puck with a paddle save that has the audience roaring and up on their feet again. Tarquin tries to take back possession but isn’t there quickly enough. The Hellhounds still have it and go for the shot again, this time bouncing the puck off the crossbar and away from the goal. 

40 seconds left. 

Cassian and Rhysand guard against their opponents while Azriel and Tarquin skillfully maneuver the puck down the ice, right between people’s skates at times. Tarquin is incredibly nimble and light on his feet for a defenseman, conducting several moves that force gasps from your lips, worried something would go wrong. He makes a pass to Eris right as he gets shoved into the wall by the Hellhounds’ defense. 

26 seconds.

The redhead moves with a sort of confidence that seemingly makes the other team recoil momentarily. He commands the attention of every spectator, not only because he has possession but also because of his back-to-back evasions and fakeouts. 

18 seconds. 

Eris approaches the goal, all six opponents converging. Cassian skates up to the left, perfectly positioned for a play they’ve practiced countless times. A simple, effective strategy — Eris just needs to pass to Cassian for the shot. Cassian catches Eris’ eye, giving him a nod. He’s open. 

But Eris shakes his head. 

He backtracks, attempting to outmaneuver the defense. You glance at Cassian, seeing fury building in his eyes. Tarquin and Azriel are open too, but Eris isn’t looking that way. Rhysand and Helion wear expressions of anger tinged with resigned frustration.

6 seconds left. Eris circles behind the goal, clearly aiming to nudge the puck in around the post. You can already tell it won’t work — too many opponents, and Eris’ eyes are locked on you instead of the play. He slides the puck around the post and… straight into the goalie’s leg pads. 

2 seconds. Cassian and Azriel make a desperate rush, but it’s futile. You sit with a sigh, putting your head in your hands. The buzzer blares. Game over. Hewn City Hellhounds win, 5 - 4. 

You distantly hear the cries and shouts from the other side of the arena celebrating their team’s win, mingled in are the groans of frustration and defeat from around you. What the fuck was he thinking? They’d had the perfect opportunity. You look up just in time to see your boyfriend shove Eris into the wall a few feet down from where you sit, the glass letting you see just how his face smashes against it with the impact. The spectators around you cheer Cassian on, as they, too, are frustrated at the person who cost them the possibility of overtime.

Immediately after impact, Cassian skates back a few feet, throws his helmet and gloves off, and raises his fists. Eris mirrors the action after throwing down his stick. Cassian’s is discarded way back near the goal. There’s no going in circles to see who moves first; Cassian is on him, landing blow after blow to his face and head. His own face goes red with anger as he shouts what you assume to be chastising, scolding words at the other. You can’t hear anything above the crowd around you spurring him on. Across the ice, the rest of the team just watches, arms crossed and chests heaving. 

Eris finally gathers himself, landing a left hook to Cassian’s jaw. He takes the opportunity to pull him down a bit by the hair and uses his other hand to keep punching. The refs are finally on their way to break it up, but both of their blood has already spilled onto the glass and ice. You strain to catch their words, curiosity flaring as Eris’ eyes flick to you, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk. Whatever he said next had Cassian lunging forward with another barrage of punches. 

As the refs finally near them, you decide you've seen enough and navigate your way out of the stands to the locker room entrance just as you always have at the end of their matches. 

You’ve never seen him get like this. Sure, you’ve seen him get into a fight every now and then, after which he’d pout at you from the penalty box (if he wasn’t still too overcome with anger). But this? In-fighting? Never. He’s usually the one splitting the guys up. And though he gets into disagreement after disagreement with Eris, it’s never turned into this. You’re not even sure why it escalated so quickly — they’ve been doing really well this season and the playoffs are still months away. This was by no means a high-stakes game for them. 

Just as you cross your arms over your chest and lean against the wall across from the locker room door, you hear the familiar cacophony that comes with lost games. You prefer it to the times they come back silent — the times the car ride home goes by without a word exchanged. Those are few and far in between, though. 

The din of angry voices and clattering equipment grows louder as the team approaches. You straighten up, eyes fixed on the corridor’s entrance. When Cassian emerges, leading the group, your heart sinks. His jaw is clenched, gaze locked straight ahead with an intensity that makes you hesitate. 

Still, you take a few steps towards him. “Cass,” you start, your voice barely audible above the commotion.

He doesn’t even blink. Cassian strides past you, the heat of his anger almost palpable as he disappears into the locker room. The door slams shut behind him, leaving you staring at its blank surface. 

You're still processing when you feel a light touch at your waist. Azriel slides past you with a sympathetic nod. Helion follows, his hand ghosting across your lower back as he squeezes through. If you weren’t caught so off guard you may have leaned into their touch. Rhysand, ever the gentleman even in defeat, murmurs a quiet “Rough night, darling” as he moves around you.

“Think Cassian would mind if you played nurse?” Eris drawls, gesturing to his bruised face. He gives what would be a stunning smile if not for the blood staining his teeth. His eyes flicker to the locker room door, then back to you. “I promise I’d be a much more… grateful patient.” He lingers only a moment longer, and you’re sure he’d jump at the chance in a heartbeat if you gave the word, before sauntering into the locker room with a self-assured smirk.

You lean against the wall, arms crossed. The muffled sounds of frustration and anger seep through the locker room door, punctuated by the occasional crash of equipment being thrown. You check your phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media to distract yourself. Already, clips of the fight are circulating, fans dissecting every move, every punch. You decide to just put your phone back in your pocket. 

The shouting inside gradually dies down, replaced by the sound of running water. Showers. You find yourself straining to hear any indication of Cassian’s mood, wondering if the shower is doing anything to cool his temper. 

The corridor gradually empties as staff and other team personnel file out. You shift your weight from one foot to another, replying to texts to pass the time. The showers shut off one by one. You hear locker doors opening and closing, the murmur of subdued conversations. The guys eventually trickle out, hair still damp. They offer you tight smiles or brief nods as they pass, their usual post-game chatter noticeably absent. The weight of the loss and the fight hangs heavy in the air; even Eris walks past you without so much as a smirk.

“(Y/N).”

You feel your heart drop to your stomach at his tone — it’s commanding, and the raspiness from all the shouting in his already deep voice sends a conflicting shiver through you. It does nothing to calm your nerves, but ignites a different kind of tension altogether. You take a step off the wall as you respond.

“Yeah…?”

“Get in here.”

This better be fucking good, you think, but find yourself swallowing hard anyway. You push the door and step in, and if your breath wasn’t already stuck in your throat, you might have choked on it at the sight.

Cassian sits on one of the benches, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. His elbows rest on his knees, hands hanging loose between them, and his damp hair partially obscures his face as he stares down at his calloused fingers.

You take a few tentative steps, stopping a few paces before the bench. The door finally shuts behind you, the loud click echoing in the otherwise silent room. Neither of you speak for long enough that you feel like you should say something, but when you open your mouth-

“Sit. And listen to me very carefully.”

His voice is low and measured, but the underlying tension is palpable. You lower yourself onto the bench across from him, heart pounding. His eyes lock onto you, dark and intense. He stands, closing the distance between you in two long strides. His towel now hangs dangerously low on his hips as he looms over you, still sitting on the bench.

“That game,” he growls, “was a disaster.”

You can feel the heat radiating from his skin, still flushed from the shower, as he leans down, placing his hands on either side of you on the bench. You have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. His face is inches from yours, breath warm on your cheek.

“Eris blew it,” he continues, voice low and rough. “But y’know what? It wasn’t just him. The whole team was off today.” He leans in closer, his breath ghosting your ear. "And I think I know why."

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes. His gaze roams over your face, over your surprise laden eyes, lingering on your lips before snapping back up.

"I saw the way they kept looking at you," he murmurs so quietly you can hardly hear him. "Tarquin missing easy passes, Azriel fumbling checks he'd usually nail." His free hand comes up to brush a strand of hair from your face, the touch feather-light and sending shivers down your spine. "Even Helion let in shots he'd normally block without breaking a sweat.” You can feel the tension coiling in Cassian's body, see the muscle in his jaw working as he clenches it. 

"It's getting to be too much," he says, the hand that brushed your hair back now on your chin, tilting your face up to his. "The guys can't focus when you're here." His thumb brushes across your lower lip, and you can’t help but part your mouth open a bit at the touch. "Maybe I need to stop bringing you to these things. If you're going to keep distracting the team like this..."

His gaze intensifies, dark eyes boring into yours. He’s so close you can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips as he speaks.

"We can't have that, can we, baby?"

The notion is absurd. Stop going to his games? Your brows furrow as you look at him incredulously. “That’s hardly my fault-”

“Didn’t I tell you to sit and listen!?” He shouts suddenly, his grip on your chin tightening. Your eyes shoot wide open, but not in surprise.

In understanding. 

He’d never really talk to you like this, you both knew that. This was one of his games. And, oh, how you so loved playing them. 

You keep the smirk from tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Funny, I thought you liked it when all eyes were on me.”

“I like it when they look. I don’t like it when they forget their place.”

Your breath catches, a mix of anticipation and desire. You can see the fire in his eyes, the barely contained jealousy and possessiveness. You lean in slightly, testing the boundaries. “And what exactly is their place, Cassian?” you ask, your voice low and teasing. “More importantly, what’s mine?”

His eyes narrow at your challenge, a dangerous smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He releases your chin, only to trail his fingers down your neck, coming to rest at your collarbone. The light touch leaves goosebumps in its wake. “Their place?” His eyes harden slightly. “To play hockey. Nothing more. I bring them some eye candy out of the kindness of my heart, and how do they repay me? By letting themselves get distracted and costing us games.” A sharp exhale.

“Your place?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that you feel more than hear. Without warning, his hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. The sudden grip is firm but not painful. Cassian steps over the bench in one fluid motion, his hold on you guiding you to turn with him. You instinctively follow his lead, twisting on the bench to face him and rising as he pulls you close. His movements are firm as he turns you both and directs you backward, until you feel the cool press of metal against your shoulders. With a gentle but insistent pressure, he keeps you pinned there, pushing his hips against your own. His eyes lock onto yours as he leans in, closing the distance between your lips.

The kiss is nothing romantic. It’s pure lust, disguised as frustration, as consequation. Where his words were clearly deliberate, his actions feign abandon. You match his intensity, your lips moving against his with equal fervor, your body arching into his touch. The grip on your hair remained, his other hand sliding slowly from your hip to your waist, then up again to your chest. He was like a starved man, grabbing onto whatever flesh he could get his hands on. The hand you didn’t have snaked around the back of his neck desperately explored every valley of his bare torso, products of his years playing the sport. 

The sounds of heavy breaths and locking lips fill the room, grunts following not long after. Cassian lets out an especially depraved groan, rolling his head back, when you slide your hand down to squeeze him through the precariously wrapped towel. But when you move to pull it off, his own hand swats yours away.

“With what you did tonight, you think that’s allowed? You think you decide how this goes?” His words hang in the air, heavy with implication. You pause, processing his question, the sudden shift.

“What I did tonight?” you manage, your voice slightly breathless. “I didn’t do anything.”

Cassian’s laugh is low and humorless. “Didn’t do anything? Sweetheart… don’t play innocent.” His fingers tighten in your hair, making you suck in a sharp breath through your teeth. “Every cheer, every jump, every little gasp… You put on quite the show, didn’t you?” He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the way your eyes stuck to Eris. Tell me, did you like it when he blew you that kiss?” 

Yes.

His gaze continues to burn into yours, a mix of jealousy and desire, as if he could somehow read the response in your eyes. “You’ve got the whole team wrapped around your finger and you know it.”

You steel yourself, meeting his gaze with an intense one of your own. “And so what if I do?” you challenge, voice steadier now. “I’m not responsible for how your team reacts to me. If they can’t keep their eyes on the game, maybe that’s on them.”

You lean in slightly, mimicking his earlier movement. “Or maybe it’s on you, Captain. Shouldn’t you be able to keep your team focused?” Something dangerous flashes through his eyes.

“You’re pushing boundaries you don’t fully understand.”

“Or maybe I understand them better than you think.” Your voice is steady despite the thrumming of your pulse.

“Understand this, then.” Your stomach flips. His eyes narrow, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Stirring up my team? That’s a direct shot at me, at my authority.”

You scoff, feigning incredulity. “Authority? If you had any authority, do you think they’d look at me the way they do, touch me the way they do?” A pause. “Did you think it ended with the showboating? No, baby, they put their hands on me so often I’m starting to forget what yours feel like.”

Of course he knew, noticed it early on and said nothing after discovering that neither of you truly minded. 

“Helion seems to enjoy putting his hand on my lower back when he moves around me for a chance to ‘slip’ and cop a feel,” you continue. “Ever notice how Rhys almost always greets me with a hug? Squeezes me? Oh! And the way-”

“Enough.” Cassian’s voice cuts through your words like a blade, low and sharp. The hand that doesn’t still have a fistful of your hair in it shoots out to grasp the junction of your neck and shoulder, his calloused fingers feel like they’re searing into you. “You think I don’t see it all? See how they undress you with their eyes? How their fingers itch to trace every curve they imagine beneath your clothes?”

You feel a slight downward pressure, pushing on your shoulder, pulling on your hair. “But here’s what you’re missing, sweetheart. They might play at ownership, but at the end of the day, who do they answer to?”

He pulls back slightly, to really take in the sight of you. “Who do you answer to when the game’s over and the lights go down?”

The question hangs in the air between you. You can feel the heat radiating off his body. Cassian’s gaze intensifies, his grip on your hair and shoulder tightening. “Because make no mistake,” he continues, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, and the downward force he’s inflicting on you growing steadily. “This little game you’re playing? It ends when I say it does.”

The pressure on your shoulder increases, his intent clear. You resist for a moment longer, but the fire in his eyes, the set of his jaw… His command is clear. Though you have half a mind to resist, a thrill runs through you, making your heart beat faster and your breath hitch slightly. The sheer possessiveness in his gaze is enough to make your knees weak. 

Slowly, inexorably, he guides you downward, your body responding almost involuntarily to the authoritative tone and the heat of his voice. You look up at him from your new position, the sight of him towering over you sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes hold yours captive as he looms above you. You’re aware of how your breathing quickens with anticipation, how Cassian’s throat bobs as he watches you. He’s still holding your hair, and you can tell he’s enjoying the submission he’s coaxed from you, his gaze a mix of satisfaction and barely restrained desire.

That grip tightens a fraction as he leans into you, his other hand coming up to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing a path along your lower lip, but different from before. Where his last touch there had been gentle and barely there, this one is firm and deliberate.

Cassian’s voice, when he finally speaks, is low and rough. “Open,” he commands, the single word laden with authority and promise.

You shudder as his command rolls over you, your body responding without conscious thought. Your lips part slightly in response to his order. His gaze is fixed intently on your face. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his gaze unwavering. His thumb traces along the curve of your lower lip with deliberate slowness, a firmness matching that of his eyes. For a heartbeat, he applies the gentlest pressure, slipping it into your mouth for a moment, his eyes locked on yours. “Now be a good girl and stay just like that for me.”

You hold yourself still, holding his gaze as you keep your mouth open, your tongue instinctively darting out to moisten your lower lip when he pulls his hand away. He finally releases your hair and it’s an effort to contain your sigh of relief. You hear more than see the towel fall from his hips to the floor. The same fingers that gripped your face moments ago now wrap around his girth, absently stroking the already-hard length of it. His pupils are dilated at the sight of you obediently holding yourself still, your mouth open, and he can barely restrain the hunger that’s been building in him.

Cassian’s large hand cradles your jaw, drawing you even closer. His presence is overwhelming, and as he aligns himself with your mouth, there’s no warning before he thrusts in. Initially, his movements are slow, almost deceivingly gentle, but you realize too late it’s quite the opposite. Halfway in, you manage, but as he pushes to the hilt, he does so painfully slowly. You try to relax, your throat attempting to accommodate him. The slow withdrawal is worse, your breath ragged as you inhale through your nose.

He pulls out slowly, leaving you gasping for air. He looks down at you with a mix of confusion and pity. “Look at you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Struggling already. I thought you could handle more.”

You meet his gaze, eyes watering but defiant. You want to tell him that you can, that he knows you can, but when you make to speak, the corner of his mouth twitches in a smirk, and he pushes back in, a little faster this time. “Is this what you wanted, baby? To be on your knees, taking me like this?”

He thrusts deeper, making you choke slightly. Cassian groans, a low rumble of a sound that reverberates through you. “That’s why you acted out, distracted my guys, huh? You just wanted me to give you a little attention.” He picks up the pace, each thrust more forceful yet. “Bet you think about this all the time,” he growls. “When you’re watching us play, you’re not watching the game, are you? No… You’re staring at Azriel’s tight, perfect ass, aren’t you? I see the way you watch him.” You can only moan in response. Cassian’s fingers slip into your hair on either side, holding your head back against the lockers, his movements becoming relentless. 

“And don’t think I haven’t noticed the way your eyes go to Helion between plays, when he takes his helmet off. You love how big he is, how powerful. You get off on watching him, don’t you?” The tension between you both is palpable, but his eyes are fixated on you, a storm of emotions swirling within them. “I see you staring whenever any of them are in the penalty box. You’re not thinking about the game then, are you? Bet you wish you were in there with them. You’re probably thinking about Tarquin’s pretty blue eyes, you want him to pin you with that look, don’t you? Or Rhys’s hands, wanting them all over you. And Eris,” he spits out the name, pairs it with a particularly rough thrust of his hips. “You eat up the way he flexes his arms when he flirts with you, I know you do.” The locker room fills with the sounds of your shared breaths, the slap of skin against skin, and the harsh whisper of his voice.

Each name, each accusation, sends a wave of shame through you. You want to deny it all, but Cassian’s relentless pace and your restrained position make it impossible. The truth is, you do think about those things — more often than you’d ever admit. The thoughts swirl in your mind, but they never take away from the attention you give Cassian. You’re most often fixated on him during games, your eyes unabashedly stuck on the way his body moves. The powerful stride of his legs, the way his strong hands grip the stick, the intense focus in his eyes. Your mind almost always lands on thoughts of his sweat-slicked skin, the hard lines of his body beneath the uniform. Your desire for him gets overwhelming, which is why the current activity is typically the one of choice after these games. 

This was the first time you hadn’t waited until home though.

He continues, his movements relentless. “You know what Eris told me out there, baby? Who am I kidding, of course you don’t, you were too busy entertaining the rest of the guys, isn’t that right?” You try to respond, but choke on his length, his brutal pace bruising the back of your throat. “Isn’t that right? Answer me (Y/N),” he growls, keeping your head firmly pressed against the lockers.

You try to answer, but all you can manage is an unintelligible garble, gagging as you attempt to speak. If there weren’t already tears in your eyes from the physical strain, there certainly would be after hearing his cold, short laugh.

“Can’t even own up to it,” Cassian tsks. “He told me that you,” he punctuates the ‘you’ with a particularly deep thrust, “have been running around telling them all how badly you want them. That you give them fuck-me eyes when I’m not around. Is that true, baby? Have you been going behind my back? Want them to pass you around and take turns with you?” At each question he pulls almost all the way out, slamming back in soon after. You manage a quick shake of your head before his grip tightens on it again. You can only look up at him with your tear-brimmed, pleading eyes. “No, I didn’t think so,” he murmurs, a thumb grazing soothingly across your cheek. You may have taken comfort in it if you didn’t know any better.

“I knew you wouldn’t say those things,” he says calmly, but suddenly pulls himself out and leans over you, forcing your head up to look at him. “But you think them, don’t you?” 

You’re still trying to gasp in air as you fight to respond. “No,” but you don’t sound convincing. Not when your voice is so hoarse. “No, I promise, I never said those things — never thought them either.” You’re coughing, trying to regain your composure, and you’re grateful he gives you a moment.

“Take off your pants,” he orders suddenly, the command sending a jolt of anticipation through you. You stand slowly, and your hands tremble slightly as you obey, slipping out of your pants and kicking them aside. His eyes rake over your body, lingering on the sight of his jersey hanging loosely on you, the contrast between the oversized shirt and your bare legs making his pupils dilate with desire. “Keep it on,” he adds when you reach for it. Cassian leans forward, now eye-level with you.

 “Come on,” he breathes out, a hand snakes under the jersey and onto your bare hip, those calloused fingers squeezing. “You can’t honestly tell me you don’t think about them. How their hands would feel if they were running up your thighs, grabbing your hips, pulling you close.” His actions mirror his words deliciously, and his words pour over you in a dangerous whisper, the heat of his breath against your ear sending a shiver down your spine.  “About how it would feel to have their hands squeezing and groping you wherever they wanted. How about if instead of stealing little touches here and there, they grew some fucking balls, grabbed you by the hips,” his fingers dig in firmly, and you catch him tilt his chin to his shoulder, a glimpse of his true nature shining through the silent signal to grab on, “and lifted you up like this?”

You barely have a moment to grab on when, with a swift, powerful motion, Cassian lifts you up, pressing you against the lockers. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and your arms around his neck as he holds you there, his body pinning yours and his hands holding you up by your ass. The cold metal of the lockers contrasts with the heat from both of your bodies. You try to arch away from it, but only manage to push yourself flush against him, feeling the undeniable hardness of him pressing against your core, a reminder of how desperately you both want this. The sensation sends a jolt of electricity through you, making you gasp and tighten your grip around his neck.

You want to deny it, to insist that your thoughts are innocent, but the intensity of his gaze tells you he wouldn’t believe you. You swallow hard, the taste of him still lingering on your tongue, as you shake your head once more, more for your own reassurance than his. 

“It’s not like that…” you plead, trying to catch your breath, eyes wide with a mix of defiance and vulnerability. “I—” Your voice falters, the words stuck in your throat. “You don’t understand.”

Cassian’s eyes narrow, his grip tightening ever so slightly. You knew there would be bruises later. “Enlighten me,” he growls.

You take a breath. “When I watch you out there, all I can think about is how much I want you,” you confess. “The way you move, the way you lead and command everything… It drives me crazy. They’re just petty distractions. You’re the one I can’t resist. The one I crave,” you assure him, moving the stray hair from his eyes. “You’re the one I want, Cassian. Only you, you know that.”

His expression softens, as do his fingers on your skin, his intense gaze seeming to melt as he absorbs your words. He leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with your own. “Maybe you’re right,” he murmurs, his voice tender, almost vulnerable. “Maybe I’ve been too harsh.” A hand rubs your side soothingly under the jersey, making its way up to massage your breast.

You smile softly, but just as you begin to feel a sense of relief, his grip on you tightens again, a bit painful on your breast. There’s a familiar, dangerous glint in his eyes. “But then again,” he whispers, “I can’t just ignore the way you look at them, baby. I can’t let that go with a few sweet words from those pretty lips of yours,” he catches your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling softly before releasing it. “You like their attention, being desired by them. Just admit it.”

You hesitate, your mind torn between denial and the undeniable truth. Unable to look him in the eyes, you nod slowly. Your voice is barely a whisper when you speak. “I do…”

“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, voice low and pensive. He presses you harder against the lockers, his hands roaming over you slowly, almost absently. “Enjoy it all you want, but don’t you dare let them think they have a chance. You know who I mean.”

Your heart races as you nod, whispering, “Eris.” It was obvious. 

Cassian frowns. “It wasn’t a question,” he snaps. “I let you play these pathetic little games of yours, but don’t think for a second that it’s an invitation to have another man’s name on your lips while I’m inside you.”

With a sharp, forceful movement, he thrusts into you, the suddenness making you cry out, the sound bouncing through the tiled room. “Do you understand?” he demands, and you nod again, vigorously this time, a soft whimper escaping your lips at the fullness. 

Without another word, he finally captures your mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss, his tongue gliding over yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless. His hands slide down to your thighs, and he begins to move against you. There was nothing soft or caring about it, the motions unyielding and powerful. His hands grip you tightly as he fucks you into the cold metal of the lockers, his thrusts hard and deep. 

“Is this what you wanted?” His voice is harsh and taunting. “To be fucked like this, right here where anyone could walk in? You think about this every time you see them, don’t you?” That’s when you remember that you are, in fact, in a place where anyone could find you like this. A blush rises to your cheeks at the realization, and you can tell he gets off on your embarrassment when he fails to suppress a smirk. You try grounding yourself by grabbing him wherever you can, hands out of his hair and grasping at his shoulders, nails digging in. “I know you like teasing them,” he continues, voice little more than a rumble. “Making them think they have a chance. They’ll never have you like this, (Y/N).”

His pace quickens, and he speaks into your neck. “Tarquin mentioned how you blush every time he catches you staring. What do you think about when you look at him, hm?” But you’re a mess, so lost in pleasure you can hardly process he’s asked you a question until he bites down on the crook of your neck. He doesn’t wait for your response, however, before he continues. “And Helion said you can’t keep your eyes off his arms. Is that what you want? You want his arms wrapped around you?” He changes his rhythm suddenly, now pulling out all the way to the tip before ramming back in. 

“Do you understand how fucking embarrassing it is,” he starts, voice cold, barely heard over your screams and moans, “to have my team—my friends—telling me how they catch you practically drooling at them, that you’d take them over me if you got the chance?” You shake your head adamantly at that. 

“No, Cass, you know that isn’t true!” You try to keep your voice even, to be taken seriously, but the lewd sounds in the air of him pounding your soaked, dripping cunt don’t do anything to help. It’s hard to continue when he leans down and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue dancing across the sensitive skin. “No one could fuck me as good as you do,” you breathe out, and you hope the moans cutting through your words are indication enough of it. “You’re the only one I want, the only one who makes me feel like this,” you manage to say between gasps. “They mean nothing compared to you.”

He appears to consider your words and you think he might be convinced, but nothing changes. Other than, perhaps, the smirk on his lips. “You know what Azriel told me while he was leaving? He asked if I needed any help with you in here. Can you believe that, baby?” His thrusts grow even more intense. “He had the nerve to ask me if he could join in…” A scoff. “As if I’d let him touch you. As if I’d share you with anyone else.”

“Don’t want anyone else,” you murmur, eyes going unfocused from the overwhelming sensation of it all, but he speaks over you, seemingly not having heard you. Nevermind the thought that they all likely knew what would transpire in this room after they left. You hoped it was only Azriel, with how observant he was.

“I can’t blame him though, can’t really blame any of them. It’s not their fault you’re such a sneaky fucking tease. It’s a wonder they don’t feel entitled to you yet…”

His words sting, but they also go straight to your cunt, and you feel yourself clench around him. His possessiveness, his dominance — it’s intoxicating. You try to respond, but your breath is practically forced out of your lungs with a loud moan as his pace quickens again. 

“Look at you,” he continues, his voice dripping with anger and desire. “Barely able to form a sentence. Does it turn you on, knowing they all want you? Knowing that I’m the only one who gets to have you like this?”

You manage a shaky nod, and quip back. “I know it turns you on, how much you keep mentioning them.” It catches him off guard, your short moment of lucidity. For a brief second, he stills, eyes widening in surprise before narrowing again, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh, you think you’re fucking clever,” he murmurs. “I know what you’re doing,” his nails dig into your skin as he thrusts into you, making you cry out, “and it won’t work.”

He shifts slightly, angling his hips to hit a spot inside you that makes you gasp in pleasure, hands scrambling for purchase on him, on the lockers, on yourself. The sound echoes through the locker room, mingling with the existing ones. 

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, I’m all yours, Cassian. Only yours, please!”

He groans, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his tone softening for just a moment before he resumes his relentless pace. “Again. Louder.”

“I’m yours!” you cry out desperately. “Only yours!” You find yourself wondering if there’s anyone left in the building, if they can hear you. You subsequently decide you don’t care. His eyes flicker down to the jersey number stretched across your chest, and a satisfied smirk forms across his lips. “Look at you, wearing my number,” his eyes are full of pride. 

You nod, lips parting with a moan. “Wanted to show everyone who I’m here for. I belong to you, Cassian.”

“Damn right, you do,” he mutters, his movements becoming more desperate than forceful. You know your boyfriend well enough to know he’s getting close. Each thrust, combined with that knowledge, sends waves of pleasure through your body. “I want to hear you, baby,” he demands, his voice strained with need. 

“Cassian!” you scream, your voice hoarse, broken by moans and cries. “Cassian, please!” 

His breath puffs against your neck as he groans your name in return. The sound of your combined moans and skin against skin echoes off the walls. And with a particularly powerful thrust, he empties himself into you, your cries mingling when he doesn’t stop. 

“That’s it, baby,” you whisper to him, running your hands through his hair soothingly, coaxing him through his orgasm. He shudders against you, his grip on you gradually loosening. For a moment, he rests his forehead against yours, panting heavily, his breath ragged. As the adrenaline rush fades, Cassian’s breathing slows, the intensity in his eyes softening. Slowly, he pulls out, leaving you feeling achingly empty.

But before you can protest, he lowers you to the ground, drops to his knees, and pulls one of your legs over his shoulder to rest your foot on the bench behind him. His hands slide down your thighs, feeling the mix of your arousal and his seed. “You didn’t think I’d leave you like this, did you?” he murmurs, voice filled with a renewed hunger. His mouth descends on you without warning, his tongue gliding over your sensitive flesh, tasting both of you. The sudden jolt of pleasure makes you gasp, your hands flying to his hair as he works you. 

Cassian looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire as he devours you. “You taste so fucking good,” he says against you, the vibrations against your clit drawing a moan from you. His tongue works with relentless precision, each flick and swirl drawing out gasps and moans from you. His hands grip your thighs firmly, keeping you steady as he devours you. You can feel the roughness of his calloused fingers digging into your skin.

You clutch at his hair, your fingers tangling in the damp strands as you pull him closer. You rut your hips against his face, seeking more pressure, more friction. Every movement of his tongue sends shivers up your spine, your body responding to him with a need that borders on desperation. He knows exactly how to push you, bringing you close before pulling back, leaving you teetering on the brink of insanity. 

His eyes lock onto yours, filled with a fierce determination. “I want to hear you,” he murmurs against your sensitive flesh, his breath hot and tantalizing. “Say my name.”

“Cassian,” you moan, your voice trembling with the intensity of your need. “Please, don’t stop.”

He smirks, lips curving against you as he doubles his efforts. His tongue plunges deeper, his hands squeezing your thighs tighter as he pulls you even closer. You can feel the building pressure, the coil of pleasure tightening inside you, ready to snap. 

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Good fucking girl… Come for me.”

With those words and a final flick of his tongue, you shatter, your orgasm crashing over you. Your body convulses, your cries echoing off the tiled walls as you ride out the waves of pleasure. Cassian doesn’t stop, his tongue continuing to lap at you, drawing out every last bit of your release until you’re a trembling, boneless mess in his arms.

Finally, he pulls back, his lips glistening with a mix of your juices and his satisfaction. You feel his warmth spilling out of you, trickling down your thighs as he rises to his feet. His eyes blaze with a dark, possessive fire as he takes in your thoroughly spent form. There’s no need for words; the look in his eyes tells you everything you need to know.

Remember this, his look seems to say. Remember what happened here. 

You meet his gaze, your own eyes still hazy with the aftermath of your climax. There’s no need for further declarations or reassurances; the intensity of what just transpired speaks for itself.

[gojos-version]

It wasn't a costume..?

Pairings- Y/N x Vampire! Satoru Gojo

Summary- You and Shoko go to a costume party for Halloween with your other friends and you find Satoru! He's dressed as a vampire, but something seems off about him... the way his blue eyes glow and fangs seem a bit too good has you on the edge of your seat. is it really a costume?

Warnings- Biting, cunnilingus, tummy bulge, breeding, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it yall), mating press (shush ik i use this alot), drinking, dick sucking, bit of blood (he js bites ur neck), pet names (bunny, sweetheart, baby), praise

Word count- 3k

Proof read- ✅

A/n- Hi!! I didnt exactly post this when i wanted to because I've been so busy butt!! im happy i finally got this out. I really hope you enjoy it <3 Take care of yourselves and have a lovely day :)

⋆ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆ ✮ ༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆

“Y/n! Get up! We’re going to a costume party!” Shoko barges in your room while you're cooped up watching your favourite show. “Shokoo I don't feel like going anywhere.” You sigh, curling up into your blankets more making her roll her eyes. “Cmon get up! Satoru’s goinnggg” She adds with a smirk and you're suddenly interested. “Oh? Really?”, “Mhm! You’ve liked him for like ever Y/n. and i have the PERFECT outfit for you that's gonna wow him.” She squeals and drags you out of the comfort of your blankets. 

You fail to hide the grin making its way on your lips, “Plus Y/n it’s halloween you can't not do anything” She sighs dramatically, grabbing her bag and digging through it. “Everything i hand you you MUST wear.”, she exclaims as she throws a bunny outfit? On the bed with fishnets and a black lace pushup bra and a matching thong. “Shoko this is the sluttiest thing you've ever given me. I don't think I should-”, “Girl hush you're gonna look scrumptious and Satoru will be on his KNEES for you. Todays the day y’all FINALLY get together okay. When I come back I better see you in it.” and before you know it she's out of your room, leaving you looking at the outfit before sighing. 

You slip your clothes off and put your bra on, humming in satisfaction at how comfortable your bra feels and how good your breasts look. Maybe shoko wasnt lying. You slip your thong on and hype yourself up as you put the fishnets on and then the bunny outfit. “Shoko! You can come in i have it on!” as spon as you say that she opens the door. “Perfect!! aH!! You look so good. Now sit sit lets do hair and makeup then the final touches.” She pats your makeup chair and you sit down looking in the mirror. 

Time skip <3 

You look in the mirror with your makeup and hair done and you cant lie to yourself you look absolutely scrumptious. Shoko slips bunny ears on you and hands you black elbow length gloves. She claps her hands giggling, “Perfect! Let me get changed and we’ll go okay? I got us matching outfits.” She winks before leaving your room and getting changed in your spare room. You take a picture for keepsake in your mirror; smiling in confidence and messaging the groupchat (consisting of you, Shoko, Suguru, Satoru, Nanami, Utahime and haibara) you and Shoko would be on your way soon.

“Y/n! How do I look?” Shokos voice yells out, twirling around as she opens the door revealing Shoko dressed in a short skirt, tube top with wolf ears and a wolf tail, “Seee i told you we were matching!!” You giggle, “You look perfect girl, let's go!” You both rush out to the car and make your way to your classmate's house that's holding the party.

Time skip <3

You open the car door and see the flashing lights.. Loud music.. People are somehow already drunk?? You and Shoko link arms and she practically drags you to the front door. The owner of the house greets you and as soon as you walk in you take in the atmosphere. “Let's go find the others!!” Shoko shouts in your ear over the music and you nod looking for your mutual friends. 

Before you know it your eyes land on Satoru, Suguru, Utahime and Nanami on a couch sitting and talking. Where’s Haibara? You hum to yourself and drag Shoko to the couch. “Hey guys!!” You shout over the music and Satoru? Oh he looked way too good for his own good. He was dressed as a vampire, a classic but fuck did he look way too good. His eyes widen as he takes you in. fuck if there wasnt a whole group of people around right now he would’ve bent you over the table and taken you.

“Woah Y/n and Shoko you both outdid yourselves.” Suguru chuckles, Your cheeks heat up a bit remembering how damn slutty you probably looked right now, “You guys did too! Where are the drinks?”, “Ill take you to them.” This time it's Satoru speaking and he stands up, taking your hand in his and weaving you both through the crowd. The way he looked at you… seemed different than usual. 

As you were pouring your favourite alcohol Satorus breath fans your ear, “You look good tonight, bunny” and your cheeks flare up when he tugs the little bunny tail near your ass. “Oh do i now? You look like you want to suck the life outta me.” You retort snaking your hand under his shirt; feeling his abs. “Maybe I'm really hungry right now, bunny.”, “So I'm your prey?” Your eyes flit up to his and fuck he looks dangerous. “Don’t let me catch you, bunny or you will be my prey.” With a smack on your ass he walks off leaving  you pathetically clenching your thighs as you take a sip of your drink, hoping it'll calm you down.

When you sit back down across him you try to avoid his hungry gaze, fuck his pupils look so big and he had his leg bouncing up and down. The sexual tension between you 2 could be cut with a knife as you awkwardly tried to avoid it and make conversation with the others. At this point you've lost count of the drinks you've drowned but you just feel tipsy. You feel yourself brimming with confidence; smirking to yourself noting that Satorus eyes haven't left you once tonight. 

You stand up, excusing yourself pouring another drink into your cup, jumping when you feel a mans arms wrapped around your waist. “Excuse me?” you turn around to see a guy you noticed eyeing you down as well before. He was dressed as a demon and he drunkenly slurs in your ear, “Spend the night with me, yours so prettyyyyy i'll treat you so good”, you shiver but think.. Might as well. It'll give Satoru some guts, right? 

You press your ass against this guys crotch and laugh, “I'll indulge you for a bit.” and he grunts into your ear. You don't like this guy. At all. You don't find him the least attractive but it doesn't matter, you drag him into the open area. Right in Satorus sight. The guy puts his face in your neck and humps towards you, his clothed bulge bumping your thigh. 

You can feel Satorus gaze piercing the back of your head. Success. You grab the guy by his hair and you nip at his neck. You feel a hand on your shoulder and you get yanked away from the guy. You look up and see Satoru and he looks furious. “Hey! What are you doing??? She's mine!” The guy slurs and tries to punch Satoru. “Y/n, go sit with the others. Now.” Satoru orders out, his voice seems harsher than usual. You nod and wordlessly sit with the others.

You didn't see where Satoru or the guy went. You focused on talking with your friends. “Satoru really is a cock blocker huh” Suguru says giving you a knowing look, “Hes strange” You sigh, drinking some water to start sobering yourself up. “Y/n. get up. Now.” Satorus voice rings out behind you. He's looking at you darkly and for some reason his chest is heaving up and down. Is that.. Blood on his clothes? Maybe it's decoration and you just noticed it now.

You stand up shakily and Satoru takes your hand, even though he's furious his grip on you is gentle as he drags you out into the backyard, going to the garage. “Why were you all over him.”, “Huh? Why do you care?” You retort, Satoru..oh he looks angry. “Why do I care? Was us not flirting with each other enough of a sign that I want you?! And now you're all over some guy like that didn't just happen!”, “I did it to get a rise out of you. So you could be angry enough to tell me how you actually feel about Satoru.” You mumble out. His eyes widen “Oh youre gonna fucking pay for that.”

That's the last thing you remember before you're on his mattress? When did you get to his house? You're sprawled out on his bed with him hovering on top of you, taking you in. “You just gonna stare? Cmon devour me, Satoru” You egg him on and fuck when he takes your lips on his,, his tongue exploring every crevice of your mouth you think youre about to ascend.  His tongue dominates yours making you gasp into his mouth, tugging onto his hair and fuck the grunt he lets out against your mouth makes you want to hear more. 

You feel one of his hands snake to your breasts, squeezing them through your costume, “you’re caught, bunny.” He whispers in your ears and your cunt.. Oh your cunt throbs. Shit. “Satoru…” You gasp when he flips you over, “Cmon. arch.” He grunts and you arch your ass so it's riiiight in his face. He fucking rips your costume and panties, just enough to free your sopping cunt.

“Yer so fuckin’ wet.” You look over your shoulder and see Satoru watching your wet cunt clench around nothing. He spreads your ass cheeks with his hands and he spits on your hole making you grip the sheets beneath you in anticipation. He licks a long, hot stripe on your slit making you shiver and press your needly cunt against his face. And when he pushes his tongue into you fuck.. You're pretty sure you see the white pearly gates.

He hums into your cunt as he fucks his tongue in and out of your hole making you gasp out moans, grinding your slick all over his face. “S-satoru.. I-ah!” he moans into your cunt as a response, his fingers pinching your clit making you jolt. His free hand squishes your ass cheek giving it a firm slap and fuck you moan loudly. Right now you felt like you could explode, the feeling of his tongue deep in your cunt and his fingers pinching your clit made your body feel like it was on fire.

“A-ah! W-wait -Satoru- I’m gonna- Angh!” That’s the last thing you get out to warn him before you cum messily all over his face. Satoru, well he masons onto your cunt when he feels you gushing around his tongue covering his mouth and chin sloppily. He sits up leaving you catching your breath with your ass in the air still. “get on your fucking knees. Now.” You swallow thickly and twist your body to slide off the bed, stopping at the edge of it and sinking to your knees; watching as Satoru sits on the edge of it, waiting. His gaze was sharp as he watched you slowly sink to your knees in front of his long, thick, cock. Your mouth waters at the sight of his pink tip dripping with precum, the veins looking prominent as ever as it rested flat against his abdomen.

You lick your lips and softly grasp his cock with one hand, you spit on his dick watching your saliva add to his precum, dripping down his shaft. You kitten lick the tip watching as his breath gets stuck in his throat, a hand shakily putting your hair in a ponytail, gripping it trying to compose himself. You lick his salty precum from the tip; spitting on it once more before taking the tip in your mouth, humming in satisfaction as he lets out a gasp. You suck on the tip and your hand lubricates from the precum and your saliva drips down his shaft, you stroke it and squeeze it softly, humming around his tip as he lets out a high pitched moan.

As you suck his tip your tongue plays with the underside of his tip, the crevice between his shaft and tip, running your tongue across it and moving back to the top; your tongue going in circles. Your free hand fondles his balls and squeezes them making him moan and whimper wildly, his grip on your hair tightening. You take your hand that was stroking his shaft off and Deepthroat as much of him as you can take, you cough around him, your hand wrapping around the remaining shaft that you couldn’t fit down your throat,you squeeze it as you bob your head up and down while sucking harshly.

“S-shit-ah!” His thighs tense up and his hips buck pathetically towards your mouth, you force yourself to keep taking as much as you can; sucking harshly and running your tongue on the underside of his cock, tracing the vein on the underside of it. Before you know it his hot release pours down your throat and when you look up…fuck he’s a mess. His eyes shut, cheeks and tips of his ears red, hands gripping your hair and he’s shaking slightly. You pull off his cock with a pop! And lick it clean as he catches his breath. “Fuck you’re so good…get on the bed bunny.” Shit he was still hard??

You shakily sit on the bed and lay on your back and Satoru? He climbs on top of you and pulls your corset down and flinging it somewhere across the room. He does the same for your bra and your already ripped panties and fishnets. You swallow thickly watching as his fangs pierce into his bottom lip, some blood drawing. “Satoru- your lip…”, you note and he doesn’t respond, just taking in every single detail and crevice of your body.

He brings his face to your neck, in hailing and he moans when he takes in your scent. His fangs graze your neck and you buck your hips towards him, “you gonna bite me like a real vampire, Satoru?”, “What if I am a real one bunny? Hm? you gonna try to escape?” he breathes against your neck and your heart rate picks up “h-huh..”, “yeah, bunny.” He licks your neck and fondles your left tit in his hand and rolls his hips against yours, his tip bumping your clit.

“Bite me.” You push his head towards your neck and he shudders. “Fuck you can’t just say that. Won’t be able to stop if I do.” , “don't care, I’m fine if it’s with you, Satoru.” And fuck that’s when he loses it. His fangs sink into your neck and you gasp out a moan; gripping onto his hair for dear life. Shit and his cock pushing in? That just added to your pleasure. Him biting your neck and sucking your blood while thrusting deep into you had you screaming and clenching around him. “A-ah! F-fuck… ‘so good!” You whimpered out, his entire cock filling you up to the cervix, he kissed your womb so perfectly you could just cry.

Satoru pulled away from your neck, his chest heaving and your blood dripping down to his chin, he licks it up and cups your face. “I- didn’t um… take enough for you to turn.” His cheeks heated up a bright red and you giggled, “even if you did I wouldn’t min- ah! Ah! Annnghhh!” he cuts you off by thrusting harshly in you, pushing your thighs to your chest and pushing his weight onto you as he thrusted messily into you; his hips smack into yours with a lewd smack! Smack! Smack! With each bump of his hips against yours. “‘M sorry baby- couldn’t! Couldn’t control myself-!” He whines, both his hands grabbing your face forcing you to maintains eye contact with him while he fucked your tummy harshly.

"I-I can feel it in my tummyy!!" and Satoru smirks at that, your thighs were putting pressure on the bulge formed in your stomach from his greedy cock adding to your pleasure as you whimper and moan mindlessly.

He felt like he was in your guts, his dick so deep inside of you and just slapping your womb, his crystal blue eyes staring deep into your eyes and you like he was fucking you so intimately. “Satoru! Satoru! Angh! Ah!”, “shh it’s okay bunny, shhhh….you're so pretty… that’s it..yeah.. taking me so well..” he cooed and your walls clenched around him making him hiss in response. “s-shit.. ‘m so close..” he moans into your ear, you couldn’t respond straight from how good you felt, your cheeks flustered from the eye contact you were both making. He kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth and dominating yours, swallowing up every sound threatening to come out of your throat. Your body felt like it was on fire, your back arching towards him with his cock threatening to fill your tummy up at any moment.

“Shit- sweetheart im coming, fuck-fuck fuck fuck fuck!” Oh and Satoru looks so pretty when he comes, his eyes roll back and his mouth goes agape; whining as he fills you up. It’s so much too, it drips out of you even though he filled your womb up. You feel the knot in your stomach snap as you cum, you squirt all over his abdomen, your eyes rolling back and you swear you went unconscious for a bit. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. He was all you could think about, those pretty blue eyes, his personality which you admired so much. Everything. The way he'd bring you your favourite sweets when you seemed down. The Satoru, who was a vampire. The Satoru who you want him to bite you and mark you as his.

When you open your eyes your eyes focus on him, he’s kissing your breasts softly and murmuring praises. “You okay, bunny? Wasn't too much now, was it?”, you blearily nod your head, eyes blurry and you shut your eyes again feeling his lips pecking all over your body, humming softly. “Such a good girl..” that’s the last thing you hear before your consciousness slips out of your body and you nod off to sleep. 

⋆ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆ ✮ ༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⊰⊱ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆

Masterlist <3

[sleepy-fiction]

Got a crush- got a crush- Crush you all beneath me. ⚗️

Jinx x F!Reader SMUT

3k WORDS

tgs: intense violence, erotic asphyxiation, water sports, bdsm, knife play, powerplay, masochist reader, oral, cunnilingus, sexual repression, religious terms/oppressive religious language, reader is shit and pathetic its lovely

syn: Jinx spares you before your death, the adrenaline, the ecstasy, its euphoric. You re-emerge bright-eyed like the first oracle of a God. Only this time, you want to eat God's cunny, and she'll let you.

an: hii err questioning myself with this one wow. this takes place in act 2 of arcane s2, jinx is rumored to be older bc of a possible time skip between act 1 & 2, but jinx is early 20s in this fic. I wanted to write something freakalicious and get back in touch with my weird side. mildly proofread

Smeech's gang had been your home since you were little. You were born into it, your parents' loyal followers, devout, and strict as they came. The rules were engraved into your brain, defined like the Old Testament. You were linear, closed-minded, and point. Your parents died in the battled post silco. Your neighbors, the other kids. The gang's numbers were dwindling, if not by death, then by them abandoning the cree for others. And the years went by. Your silent, dormant hatred for Jinx muddled up.

It continued until her little revolution, where she gained her little blue headed cult following. You'd be lying if you say a part of you wasn't swooned. But your revenge called for more.

What they called "Safety". No, it was nothing but plain blameless sin.

And you were put on this earth to eradicate it.

So it only came natural after Smeech's disassembly, for the gang to disemble themselves as well. Like a ghost town, you found yourself being the only righteous one holding up the banner. And if A^2 + B^2 = C^2, you were going after the women responsible for it.

No.

THE woman responsible for it all.

Jinx.

Blue eyed, blue braided, soon to be blue bellied, Jinx.

Jinx was a flithy mongrel, poisoning Zaun from the inside out. Her almost physiological poison bubbled out of its bloodied cauldron and frothed onto the deep floors of Zaun. Like a thick and heavy smoke blinding the ground, sucking the souls out of sinners, and blinding even the most powerful. Tempting, and as small as an ewe lamb, yet brewing and seizing like an unruly urchin. Baring pretty pale hips, milky white skin smothered in tattoos. And those eyes. Those round doe eyes.

They kept you awake at night.

Tempting.

They made you shudder.

With the bloodlust you had been building for weeks, weeks until the day your holy vengeance struck from the skies. With the last remaining loyal souls with nothing to live for, other than the fragments of Smeech's impressive legacy.

Yet why.

How.

How did things end this way.

Your body seized the moment your very own blades, the one you fantasized about taking the life of Jinx, was twisted deep into your belly. Your eyes flashed white, your gasp deep and profound, your balance suddenly no longer mattering to you anymore. The surprise attack was going well, well, until Jinx drew her devilish strength from hell and slaughtered your gang like animals. And you, being brave enough to stop her, freed her of all her guns. You fought like chickens, scratching and scraping at each other, throwing rocks, tossing dust, kicking crotches, pulling hair (you mainly), all until you had her.

She was pined beneath, whimpering and blabbering useless mantra. You revved your blade. But you stopped. You had to tell her why she deserved this. Your speech you had prepared before vanquishing this world of evil. Your glorious speech of Smeech and your gang. And unbeknownst to you, that was more than enough time for her to flash bright magenta eyes. And whimper a sound so attainable, your breath locked, and suddenly, for no reason at all, you had an urge to piss.

That one second of weakness.

No.

She turned your speech against you, she built up her bewitching tactics, disarming you and filling you with mercy, all for her to drive your beloved knife, your knife that your parents made you, deep, deep into your belly.

Then those doe eyes sharpened and she laughed.

She pushes you off her like you were nothing, your body hitting the wet dirty floor. It was raining, and glory's pellets dribbled woefully onto your cheek. Your breath was broken up into sharp, unattainable gasps as you meekly tried to crawl away. Your vision shook white in a painful mix of adrenaline, pain, and panick. Panick thick enough to make you spit and froth out the corners of your mouth.

Your body was ringing, brazen silver alarm bells loud and sparky in your ears. The flashing of tree roots and veins in your vision, and how sharp your sense of smell suddenly became. You could smell the muddy streets clearer than day, and even the smell of cotton candy and battery acid death pouring out from her body. A smell that, even now, still made your lower parts clench.

"Ha-! Ahaha-ha," she laughs. Her voice echoes. In your shaken vision, you see her rise before you, blurry bright cyan blue blinding. Pitifully, you crawl backward, desperate to flee death. Once Jinx has you, she never spares any mercy. You knew that going in, but never, never did you believe it'd become a reality.

You were going to become another number on an ever growing list of people who thought they could kill Jinx and failed.

Once that settled in your brain, pitifully thick tears sprang out from your eyes. You cried loudly, a wail strong enough to shake the most powerful souls. A wail so primal, so childish, a wail that stemmed from early development yet also the evolution of humans itself- the last cry of a dying homosapien at the hands of a bloodlust driven Neanderthal.

A cry that was stopped by the quaking footsteps of Jinx. The booming, sloppy, wet footsteps filled with the vibrations of her getting closer. She fell on top you with a cadence, a gust of quick wind as she straddled you. You gasped and reached forward blindly, raindrops falling in your eyes and mixing with the tears as you clawed at her jaw and neck.

She didn't care. She grabbed your left wrist in a vice, hard enough for you to cry out like an injured lamb. And with her other hand, she gripped your face and trusted hers into your view.

She spoke, "You feel that?"

You gasped, your breathing erratic.

"You're going to die," she laughed at you. "You're going to die, and you almost had me! Not even my sister got that close!" Her voice is like a wicked hyena. Gravely and strained from the battle, creaking to show her physical pain.

But it was enough. It enough for your body to grow limp in her hands like a frightened goat.

Your eyes bare into her face, your head uplifted by her tight hands. As you stare at her skin, as pale as powder, eyes as tired and jaded as a wilted flower, and smile as deranged as a wheel on its last hinge.

She smiles, growing ever close, closed enough for your noses to touch, and for her breath, the mingle with yours, "You know. At this stage. You're suddenly aware of everything around you. Your vision goes to shit. But you can still hear the little birds go 'cheep-cheep-cheep', and the rain-- 'pitter-patter-pitter-patter'. And you can't quite feel the pain, but it's the fear of knowing it's coming that gets you." She grabs the knife, twisting it slightly.

You jolt, crying out in agony. "Your heart rate spikes, you begin to hyperventilate. And there's this ringing in your ears... And... My favorite part, the buzzing behind the eyes," she says as she reaches and stretches your eyelids back. Your pupils shrink, and just as she says, your body systematically begins to follow. Snot pools down your nose, a tell tale sign of your inability to get oxygen. "It's totally useless how we have a nose and mouth. But yet they get so scared and they start working against eachother! Just like families... Just like gangs... like rats," she hisses, and you can feel the etchings of her lips near your cheek as she loopily giggles towards your ear.

"You know, if you breathe through your nose, your hyperventilating will stop," she smiles. Eagerly and foolishly, you obey, shutting your mouth instantly and sucking in gifts of air. But just as instant as you gain it, you lose it within seconds. Jinx pinches your nose shut, her thumb and index vicious like the jerking bite of a shark.

You panick, you eyeballs ringing. And as you try to open your mouth again, she drops your head, ot crashes to the ground, and she slams her free hand to clamp your mouth shut.

"Nhahaha," She laughs. Oh, she laughs. It's manical in nature, enough for you to wet yourself in pure fear. Your hands shoot up to claw at her hands, albeit weakly, and it feels nothing more than a massage to her. By now, you're aware of the warm wet clinging your shirt has to your belly, your pants to your crotch, and the flavorful blend of urine and iron in the wet muddy air.

Your vision spots.

She releases you, but it was already much too late.

"You know what," she says. Her voice trails in and out in your ears. Her blurry figure rises, "I think I'll spare you... That is, if you don't bleed to death out here."

Your head sags, catching the final glimpses of her limping away before it all fades to--

You jolt awake with a hard start. You shoot up, blinded by white lights that eventually shimmer down to a familsr room, your hideout. Your heart bursting a hundred miles an hour out of your chest. It was the feeling of shimmer running down your veins like a cold shower.

Instantly, you recognize your old partner, Kilo, rushing up to you from their seat in the back. Their hands grab yours, but you're even quicker to smack them away. "What t'hell! I was supposed ta-ugh die," you blabber out, spit flying in your jittery rage. Your hands grip your head of hair, your heart racing painfully.

"I heard about your dumb plan, and I came to save you, (y/n)! You had been laying there for God knows how long--" They say but you cut them off with a deadly glare, "Why are you mad? I saved you! Listen, God, you just need to calm down," they pleaded, burning their doe shaped brown eyes into your skull. Eyes you used to find allu ng, before they abandoned Smeech.

Smeech.

Dammit.

Did it really even matter anymore.

Dammit you can't fucking think straight.

How much shimmer did they use on you?

They reached again for you, and you smacked them harder, as hard as your jittery body could manage. They were as thick as a barn, burly and bearded, so your shove did nothing to them. But still, you powered up, barely making out of your bed before you knocked into your bedside table and cracking into your lamp.

As soon as you stood, your heart rate spiked, causing a brilliant gasp to leave your body. The kind of gasp they've only ever heard you release in bed. The kind of gasp that was filled in nostalgic ecstasy, the pain was so reminiscent of when Jinx--

Fuck.

No. Please God no.

"Are you okay," they asked. And with one look from them, you knew that they knew.

They knew.

And they were judging you with those pitiful eyes.

"Jinx did a number on you," they tried to whisper, but you seethed like a jackal.

"Jinx did nothing to me! I am normal! I am fine! I haven't changed," you screeched. Your face was warming, your heartbeat was painful, but memories of your last encounter flooded your brain.

You were going to die in the marvelously sinful hands of Jinx. But she spared you. It made every part of you tingle. You didn't notice when your partner sprang up to catch you, and you as hell didn't notice you falling forward. No, but what you did notice was the worry in their eyes. The worry in their deep masculine voice. And the devil horns springing out of their head.

They knew.

They knew and they were going to tell everyone.

"Get the fuck out of here, bastard!"

You yelled it with all your heart and soul.

And within seconds, you notice their heart crumble. Bleary brown eyes only complimented the flicker of guilt that panged you.

You just.

Needed them gone for good.

You collapsed moments after they left you, moments after the door quietly shut.

You were never going to see them again. They weren't just a partner they were your best friend.

And Jinx.

Jinx was brewing in your heart.

And you knew it then.

You were becoming something you never knew before.

⚗️

You'd imagine Jinx's surpise when the little runt she spared weeks ago came crawling deep onto Silco's old zone (now turned her streets), fully armed. What she thought was a foolish revenge battle turned into something else.

Sevika dropped you dead onto your knees before the desk in Silco's office. Your hands were bound behind your back, and Sevika had already stripped you of all the weapons you had. She walked up to the desk, where the back of Silco's chair faced you, and dropped all the weapons onto it. The daggers and guns flattered and shined in the light.

A dry, crackling laughter sparked into the air. A laughter you knew was hers. It made you tingle again. It made the bruises Sevika left you in all the more worth it.

You were shivering from withdrawals. Jinx withdrawals, adrenaline withdrawals, shimmer withdrawals. You needed her to make you experience that death spark again.

Please Jinx.

"Are you dumb or something," she asks. The chair finally spins to face you, her feet clashing against the table. Her face ridden with withheld rage. She blinks in disbelief with an agape mouth. She jolts forward, grabbing ome of your daggers and launches it towards your face. It narrowly dodges your eye and slices a thin scratch into your cheek.

You hiss and laugh.

It irrates her instantly. Her eye twitched. For the first time in forever, Jinx experienced the stress felt Silco once before. The stress of dealing with idiotic subordinates.

And for once. She didn't find it fucking funny.

"I spared you! But you come back with an even dumber plan. What? Did you think you could just waltz in here and slice me up," she asks. You laugh. She clenches her jaw. With an aggravated start, she jumps out of the chair, stomping on the desk as she slides off it in one quick athletic gesture. In seconds, she's on her feet crouching before you, squeezing chunks of your cheeks between her fingers. "What are you thinking," she spits.

Her grip is vice. It makes your eyes water. But you tingle and shiver all over.

"Mmh. Look at those pupils. You're on shimmer. Or- well, off it. What? Did the jitters make you think you could take me? Reclaim your honor," she says.

"M'hehe..mh," you giggle.

She bares her teeth. She drops your face and stands at break neck speed. Your head crashes to the floor, and you hear the familiar sound of a click.

"Everything about this is stupid and makes no sense. Your plan before was beautifully executed and thought out. So why... Why are you," she winces before she can finish her sentence and pinces her temples. You can hear Sevika cackle in the background. You peek up, staring up the barrel of a pistol. "Geez toots... I might get withdrawls next if you don't- I'dunno, say something," she says.

"Mmh... Jinx... Jus' just kill me... Jinx," you gasp out. Your nose aches, a perfect compliment to the ringing from your ribs from taking a robotic punch earlier. "Kill me... And it'll all be... like it was supposed to... Another number on the "anti" tally," you murmur. Not even you know what you're getting at. Why you're here.

Her heel touches your head. She's purposefully digging it into you. "Aah- haa," you shake.

Sevika gasps sharply, "Oh?" Her eyebrows quirk knowingly. Jinx turns to her, but Sevika merely smirks. "I'll leave you to it," Sevika hums, her shoulders slumping as she steps out. Jinxs eyes flicker with wilderment. Sevika lowered her guard. Totally.

They both knew you weren't a threat. But here, that small gesture confirmed a lot to Jinx. You were harmless, you didn't want to die, but you wanted to be around her. No. You wanted her to hurt you. She tests the waters. Jinx's muddy shoe pets down your head, its light not to hurt you. You buck and shiver again, blabbering out heedless.

No.

You didn't want her to hurt you.

When the realization dawned on her, a breathy cackle split the air. "Ooh! Oh god this is too good! What's that little runt," she squats right down next to you, flipping you onto your belly, "you want me to play with ya? Oh, daddy'll play with you toots."

"Wait- that's not what I what I w-want you to kill me! My honor! I lost it in battle, and i-it can only be claimed in--"

"Nn'haha! You really believe that? Oh god you're a riot! Say it. You want Jinxsy to touch you... And err... Ya'know! Take you to p-town. Play with your cunny?"

You felt an electric jolt sink to your clit. One strong enough to shut you up. Your eyes flicker to her crotch, where her legs were spread as she crouched.

"Ooh," she caught it immediately, "you want my cookie instead, eh?"

You gasped in horror.

"Or box? Is that what the kids call it nowadays? Box... Box... I always wonders why, but," she says as she pushes Silco's desk out the way and sits down in the chair, spreading her legs wide, "apparently! It's called a box cause you can stuff it! Myahaha! Ain't that something?"

You stare blissfully at her spread legs, painfully aware of your slick oozing.

She pats her thigh. "Well? What's the verdict? I'm not pulling my pants down till ya tell me ya' want it. Say it cute-like! Oh Jinx-jinx-jinx-jinx! I want your cookie wookie! Pleaase'z," she drags it out, saying it sing-songly to fuel your embarrassment.

You blabber in disbelief, "Buh," and gulp, "B-But why. Why are you letting me?" You sound like a shy child.

"Why dya' think I spared you? You're pretty hot. And... I liked being handsy with you. It felt good... Gooder than usual... Hah! Prolly cause your whorish, sensual aura stunk up the place. All that temp'TIT'ous-humbo-jumbo! N'ahaha... God you-"

"Please, Jinx," you whimper.

She returns, "Hey. I already told you. We're not unt--"

You squeak, "Let me... Eat it..."

"Huh? Is that how you ask -"

"Let me eat your cookie," you say. She gives you a bland look. "Uh," you gulp, "Please Jinxsy... Let me eat your- c-cookie. Wuh... Wookie."

She laughs, "Tehe, you got it dollface!"

this wasn't ever about smeech, was it?

⚗️

"Ooh... ff-fuck dollface," she mewls breathlessly. Your hands are still tied tight behind your back, balancing wobbly on your knees as you bury your face deep beneath Jinx's bare, pale, milky legs. Your nose is buried deep into her cunt, your tongue and lips viciously lapping at her clit. Twitching between sucking and tapping it. She was swollen already, a clear sign of her sexual negligence.

No, part of you is convinced she is a virgin. Jinx bucks into your mouth, gripping chunks of your hair. Her leg twitching, barely missing kicking your shoulder as it flies off the seat it was propped up on. She let's it slump over your shoulder. And you almost cried at how far her hole was now from your greedy lips.

You growl, "Jinx put your other leg on me... C-cant suck all of you like this."

"Uhh... Hmm," You're sure she was only half listening, but still, she lazily hunches down and stops her other leg on your shoulder. She adjusts herself and leans slouches downward more, sitting on her upper ass and pushing her cunt straight onto your face in the process.

You snuck in deep sniffs, the smell balanced, tart, and salty. You slurp up her folds into your lips, pulling and letting them slip out between your lips. She hisses and mewls delightfully, an airy cackle leaving her lips. She taps your head with two fingers and bobs her head rhythmically, a delighted hum squeaking from her lips. You giggle humored, licking a stripe up her, slowing down to enjoy the moment.

She's staring deep into your eyes, grinding against your flat tongue, slowly matching your rhythm. Your rhythm was closely following the one she hummed and drummed on you.

It was odd, how calm it all suddenly became. How you couldn't seem to look away. You wanted to please her so bad.

A ferocious shiver sparked down you again. You locked in, cupping her clit in your lips, suckling and tapping against it. You buried yourself into her, erratic and fanatic, slurping all of her like it was your last dinner. She squeaks and bucks into your mouth at the sharp change, bowling out her moans. "Aah- ff... Oohh, dollface-ugh," she whines. Her arms fall out, one landing on her forehead, her index and thumb propped up on it, rolling her head back into the chairs cushions.

Her bucking became erratic, her moans spiking, her grip on herself becoming undone. As she reaches with her free hand again to grab chunks of your hair at the root. Her cunt is pink and pale, littered with pretty hair. But your bullying turned it a vulgar shade of red. A red you'd wear on your lips any day.

"Aah! Ah! Aaa-mmgh," she barks out. Her thighs clench vice around your neck, her leg spasming before finally, "Oouh," she janks your head away from her pussy, gasping and waning in the chair.

Her eyes rolled back, while senseless blabbering drooled out her lips. "Mmht... D-Dollface," she sighs blissfully.

"It's (y/n)," you murmur and lean back in to peck at her swollen, ruined pussy.

"(Y-Y/n)?" She gulps, her eyes never returning from their blissful heaven beneath her eyelids. "Mmh yeah... (y/n)," she mumbles, half listening. She sighs after a few seconds, finally looking down at you and- smiling? It was a soft one, geninue and pure.

She asks, "What else can you do?"

"Mmh... I want... to feel good too," you murmur still pecking her pussy and inner thighs.

"Hmmmrr.... Alright. Let's get you fingered up."

"N-No... At the same time as you... Let's grind on our thighs... er like how they do in those... Brothels."

"Ooh what? You mean scissoring? Ha, is this your first time with a woman," she barks a laugh.

"Is this your first time ever, Jinx?"

"Hey," she commands, her face twitches. She shoved your face back into her lips. "Don't get smart with me. You're still my doll," she hums.

"M'forgive me," you mumble out, with pussy between your lips. That was all the answer you need. You slowly begin to suckle her again, hearing her breathy moans pour in.

"Mmh yeah... Let's go to my room..."

⚗️

😁

[wh0re43van]

Sparks (Evan Peters X Reader)

Summary: You’re a set director on American horror story’s Freakshow. Evan has been trying to convince you to ‘smoke and chill’ for months, but you’ve always rejected him in fear of jeopardizing your job. After a particularly stressful shoot, Evan finally convinces you to spark with him.

Warnings: intense smut, face fucking, choking, drug use.

Word count: 3k

A/n: This is my first time writing in awhile so I’m bit rusty

"Hey y/n I just re-upped,” Evan announces as he walks up behind me.  “He's got the best homegrown around and It's cured perfect every time. Come to my place tonight and I'll let you sample," He offers as he slips an arm around my shoulder. "You don't even have to match, just give me something else in return," he says lowly in my ear. My heart skips a beat and my cheeks blush red. Evans been blatantly flirting with me since we started shooting. It's been my own personal hell having to reject such a perfect man because its 'not professional to have personal relations with the cast'.

"Evan," I sigh as I look up at his dark eyes. "I honestly would love to-" he cuts me off.

"Then consider it y/n," he simply states. I smile at him. I have to admit that he's starting to wear me down

"Evan, I have to finish my walk through before the shooting starts" I turn back to the counter to consult my mockup. He backs up and leans against the wall.

"I’ll just keep you company then," he grins.

•

•

‘Fuck’ I curse internally as I run from a very angry Mr. Murphy. One of my idiot crew members forgot to do their only job and set out the menus for the next scene. We’re an hour behind on filming and we’re only here for three days. The director is pissed to say the least.

I throw open the door to the storage room and start ripping open boxes. I swear I'm going to lose every last ounce of sanity I have left. We started shooting two hours ago and I've rolled my ankle, got broken glass stuck in my hand, and of course, been bitched at constantly.

"Did you find them?" Evan questions as he closes the door behind him.

"What?" I ask, not processing what he's saying as I rip haphazardly through every single cardboard box in this room, brown paper flying everywhere.

"Did you-" He begins to repeat, then pauses. I feel him grab my arm gently, stopping my whirlwind of motion. "Y/N," he says calmy.

"What Evan?" I snap at him. I can feel the stress dripping out of every pore of my body. Turns out stress smells a lot like sweat. Evan jumps a bit at my tone, then simply points his 'lobster claw' to a box of pink menus that I opened without even realizing it. I was so stressed and overwhelmed I didn't even realize I found the goddamn menus four boxes ago.

I groan and lay my head on Evans chest.

"I'm such a fucking stupid idiot." I mumble his white shirt, feeling tears well up in my eyes. Evan chuckles and clumsily lifts my chin up with his makeup bound hands. His smile immediately drops when he sees my face.

"Hey y/n don't cry," he coos, his voice laced with concern.

"Evan I'm losing my mind," I sniffle as he pulls me into a hug.

"You know what you need?" He asks I shake my head 'yes.'

"A blunt." We both say in unison. I feel his cheek stretch into a smile against mine, proud of himself for finally convincing me.

•

•

My hand shakes as I ring the doorbell to Evans hotel room.

“Ma’ Lady,” Evan bows as he opens the door for me. What a dork.

“Thank you good sir,” I attempt a curtsy as I walk in. I guess were both dorks.

We chuckle as he latches the door behind me.

“Right this way,” he ushers me to his balcony looking over the city. I step out onto the cool concrete, hearing Heaven Beside You by Alice in Chains playing. There's two bean bag chairs set up with a bundle of blankets on each one. Purple and white string lights hang all around the ceiling and railing of the small balcony.

“Wow Evan, this is really cool. I’m impressed with how you spend your free time,” I admit, sitting down in one of the chairs, pulling a blanket into my lap.

“Actually,” he sits down in the chair beside me as he picks up the rolling tray. “I’ve never done this before. I set all of this up as soon as I got home,” he chuckles.

“I don’t even know what to say,” I tell him honestly. I’m dumbfounded. This might seem like a small gesture, but this is one of the sweetest things anyone’s done for me. He went out of his way just for me.

“Then don’t say anything. Just grab me that bong,” he grins, pointing to the glass sitting on the ground next to the door. I stand up and bend over to pick up the simple clear bong, feeling Evans gaze burn into the back of me. When I hand him the piece, I get close enough to his face to see that his eyes are already glossy.

“Evan Peters,” I tisk. “did you start with out me?” I ask putting my hand to my chest in faux offense.

“I was a little nervous, I’ve been waiting for this for so long… I was scared if I was sober I’d mess it up,” he admits. His pale cheeks tinting pink.

“I’m flattered,” I smile. He opens the metal grinder sitting on his lap and begins to pack the bowl. “but it is rude to start a sesh before your guest arrives.” He hands me the packed bong.

“Well how’s bout you get this all to yourself and we call it even,” he wagers. I take the bong with a smile, accepting his offer. As I put the cool glass to my lips, I reach for the lighter on Evans thigh, but he snatches it, looking me in the eyes as he flicks the zippo, igniting a hot bright flame that he circles around the bowl. He begins to pull the flame away, but I grab his hand to hold the light in place for a couple more seconds. His eyes widen a bit and he smiles.

“Damn I’m glad I didn’t want any,” he chuckles, finally pulling away to spark his own joint. I pull the stem and inhale the milky smoke sharply, holding it in my lungs for bit before exhaling slowly. The smoke clouds around my face before a small gust of wind disperses it.

“Yeah, me to,” I grin softly as Evan takes another hit off his joint. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but with the past few weeks I’ve had, I’m goanna need a lot more than some weed to recover from all this stress,” I take another hit and lay my head back in the soft chair, finally feeling my muscles relax as the golden light flows through every nerve of my body. I turn my head and open my heavy eyes to look up at Evan.

“Wow that is bad,” he says, staring at something in the distance. I take this moment to truly admire the man beside me. The purple lights cascade onto his sharp features, violet pin pricks reflect in his coffee-colored eyes. The wind blows his loose brown curls around on his forehead as a rough hand holds the paper filter up to his pink lips. The end of the cone glows crimson as his chest rises, taking in a hit of hot smoke. Evan looks down at me to finish his thought. Had I been sober, I would have quickly looked away. But right now, nothing could tear my eyes from this perfect image in front of me. Evans’ eyes lock into mine as he releases the smoke slowly out through his mouth and nose. “Y/n, I-“ he begins, but before he can finish, I sit up and pull his face into mine. Gently kissing him, the smell of smoke mixed with his cologne is intoxicating all on its own. He tenses for a moment, processing what had just happened, before putting his hand on my back to bring me closer.

“I’m sorry,” I pull away suddenly feeling embarrassed for being so forward. Evan looks at me with wide eyes and flushed cheeks for a second before furrowing his brow,

“Are you kidding me,” ashes fall from his joint onto his pants, reminding him of its presence. He takes small drag before finishing. “That’s all I’ve wanted since the moment I saw you.” I smile at his confession. He holds the joint to my lips offering me a hit. We hold eye contact as I pull the smoke into my mouth, then to my lungs. “You’re beyond beautiful y/n,” he compliments. I lean into kiss him, shot gunning the smoke to him. He kisses hard and inhales the smoke as if it’s his last breath. He sits the joint in the ash tray then puts his hand on the back of my head, gently but firmly, so I don’t pull away this time, Evan exhales the smoke though his nose, so he doesn’t have to break the kiss. I clumsily crawl into his lap to straddle him, and his hands instinctively grab my ass. The heat from his hands warming me through the thin fabric of my leggings. I feel hungry, starving for more and more of him. As my knees sink into the soft chair around him, I begin to grind my hips against his.

“Evan,” I breath out, begging to feel more of his skin on mine. He looks at me with lust filled eyes and kiss bruised lips as I begin to lift his shirt up. He grabs my hand gently.

“Let’s go inside, darling,” he whispers. “You never know if one of those creeps are near by.” He looks around, checking for paparazzi. I was puzzled for a second, before remembering Evans’ status. I nod and climb off him. He stands, his dark jeans tented at the crotch and his white t-shirt rising and falling quickly on his chest. He grabs my hand to guide me inside.

“Can’t forget this,” I grin, stopping to grab a fresh blunt and the zippo. He chuckles as I spark the cone. He pulls me into his lounge, locking the door and closing the blinds. After I had a few hits, I hand the joint to Evan as I sit down on the leather couch.

“We don’t have to do anything more than this if you don’t want y/n,” he almost whispers through the smoke, sitting down next to me. I look into his desperate eyes as he hands me the warm paper.

“Please,” I inhale. “Please Evan I need you,” I beg the stoned man in front of me. With that, in one swift move, he takes the cone from my hand, putting it on the side table ash tray, removes his shirt and smashes his lips to mine, laying me down on the sofa. His kisses trail from my lips to my ear. Grabbing my throat gently he whispers. “You have no idea how desperate I am for you,” all I can do is moan in response my brain too high off THC and lust to form a coherent thought. His kisses continue trailing down my neck as his fingers work with the buttons on my black flannel. He smiles like a child when he sees that I have nothing underneath the warm button up. His mouth quickly drops to one breast swirling his warm tongue around as his hand massages my other breast, sending me into a fit of pleasure. After giving the same treatment to the other side, he rips off my leggings. He grabs the waistband of my thong. “May I?” he asks with heavy bloodshot eyes.

“Please,” I nod. He wastes no time removing the flimsy fabric and spreading my already trembling legs. He dips a long finger into my heat, groaning at how slick I already am.

“All this, just for me?” He licks the fluid off his finger, just to dip it back inside of me and out once more. “Have a taste baby,” he reaches his finger up and I close my mouth around it, licking seductively, making sure to keep eye contact.

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself. “Good girl,” he praises with a kiss on my nose. He quickly dips his head back down, licking from my entrance up to my clit, sucking and licking with expertise, earning a loud moan and a string of profanities from me. I quickly feel my orgasm building in my stomach, but its not enough.

“Evan, I need you to fuck me, please,” I whimper. He pulls his head up, his mouth and chin shimmering. I definitely didn’t need to ask twice. He jumps up dropping his pants and boxers allowing his perfect cock to spring free, giving himself a few good pumps. I shiver at the sight. Evan dips his head down to my core one last time, giving me a kiss then allowing a trail of warm spit to drip down and trickle to my entrance. The sight is enough to make me melt into this sticky leather couch. Evan lines his length up with me, pulling my hips up and guiding me onto his dick. Slowly filling me, stopping halfway in allowing me to adjust, but I don’t want it. I buck my hips forward, making him bottom out immediately. A string of curses leaves both our lips as he pokes at my stomach from the inside. He begins thrusting quickly, taking the hint that I’m not  wanting to make love tonight. Evans’ toned body begins to shimmer with sweat as he brings a strong hand to my throat squeezing the sides, making me just lightheaded enough to intensify the pleasure. He looks down at me, biting his lip, as he watches my face contort in pleasure from what he’s doing to me. The louder I moan, the harder he pounds into me. My breathing starts to hitch with each thrust as I clench around him.

“Evan I’m going to-” before I can finish my sentence, he pulls out completely, making me groan from the sudden empty feeling. I curse and open my mouth to question him.

“Turn over,” he demands as he stands up. I obey and begin to shift on the couch. “hands and knees.” He specifies, slapping me hard on the ass, I cant help but giggle as the sting lingers on my sweaty skin. I prop myself up on my forearms on the arm of the couch and spread my legs, wiggling my ass a bit as wait for Evan to fill me back up.

“Your body is so perfect,” he says as grabs and kisses my ass before I feel him line himself up again, quickly thrusting in to satisfying the ache in the empty space he left behind in my stomach. Once he finds his rhythm, I feel his hand snake around my throat and the other around my torso as he pulls me flush against him. My shoulders press against his as I arch my back. In this new potion, he hits my g spot perfectly.

“Shit Evan! Yes please,” I pant. “just like this. Please fuck me just like this! Don’t stop,” I plead as I squeeze his strong arms that are wrapped around me. Even groans lowly at the praise.

“I need you to cum y/n,” he whispers in my ear, reaching down to rub circles on my clit. “Can you do that for me, gorgeous?” All I can do is moan and nod my head ‘yes’. His thrust propels me towards my orgasm as I scream out profanities. “That’s it, good girl,” his hot breath moans into my ear laced with the smell of stale smoke. I curl my toes and grip his forearms with all my force, leaving nail marks as my whole body tenses, then releases in pleasure.

“Evan I’m cumming!” My screams and the sound of our skin slapping together fill the room. “Fuck you make me feel so good,” I whimper as he begins to slow down his thrusts, allowing me to ride out my high.

“Good job baby,” he pulls out, pumping himself. “now get on your knees. Open your mouth.” I quickly obliged. I drop down and look up at him. The sight of his heaving, glistening chest and his brown curls sticking to his red sweaty face is enough to make me orgasm all over again. He reaches his veiny arm down and pulls my hair into a ponytail and. I happily open my mouth for him as he gently taps his rock hard tip on my lips, I moan quietly as he begins to slowly thrust in my face. I take it upon myself to press his dick as far as I can down my throat, gagging as my nose touches his abdomen.

“Holy fucking shit baby,” he pants out, now fucking my face. It doesn’t take long before he’s twitching in my deep in my throat and the salty pre cum drips into my mouth. “That’s it baby, fuck,” he swears as he grips my hair so hard I can feel a few strands snapping. It takes all of my strength to pull my head a away.

“Cum on my face, please Evan,” I gasp for breath, looking up at him with tears running from my pink eyes, as thick strands of spit string from my lips to his perfect dick. With a few pumps, and his death grip still on my hair, I open my mouth and hum in satisfaction as he releases his strings of hot liquid all over my face. He groans and curses, finally releasing my hair.

“Fuck y/n,” he sighs, looking down at the beautiful mess he’s created on my face. He brings his thumb to my mouth scooping up some of his cum and bring it to my lips. I smile around his thumb, lapping up all the liquid. “I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” he looks at me with such strong admiration in his eyes, I can’t help but blush as I lay my head into the hand he puts on my cheek. “Lets get you into the shower,” he begins guides me to the bathroom but I stop him.

“Don’t you want a cigarette first” I offer, grabbing the menthols from my flannel pocket. He grins. “Well, I’m not going to ever turn down a cigarette after sex that good,” he looks at the state of my face again. “But let me at least wipe off your face first. It’s the least I could do.” I giggle as he walks over to get a wet rag. This is absolutely worth risking my job for.

[madamevirgo]

Could i dare request rebecca Ferguson X her younger actress girlfriend? Like she is the new Hollywood face and its always in something doing awesome roles?

And becca goes with her to the oscars to see her winning for the first time and they are so lovey dovey for each other

Promises

Pairing: Rebecca Ferguson x (f!)reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: angst, softness, cheesiness, my writing

A/N: I want you all to know that I immediately started writing this after I finished writing & posting the Lady Jessica one. At around 5am, at its 6pm now. Also, I was going to pair this one with a similar request, but then I got sooo many ideas for this. I loved loved writing this! Thank you for the request :)

I put on my best smile as I stepped in front of the live audience where Jimmy Fallon was waiting for me. I was here to promote my new film, a romcom. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, our first guest tonight Y/n L/n!” I danced my way to the small podium and kissed both of Jimmy’s cheeks, taking the time to blow some kisses to the crowd before settling down on the chair.

“Wow, what an energetic audience,” I said with a laugh as the crowd cheered. 

“That’s right! The last time I interviewed you was during COVID.” He realized 

“Right, I did it with sweatpants on and from the comfort of my place.” He laughed at that. 

“I mean I’ll wear sweatpants next time if you do.” He said, and I extended a hand for a handshake to seal the deal. “Another thing that’s changed is you weren’t an Academy Award Nominee the last time we talked.” And I laughed as the crowd cheered. 

“It’s been quite a journey, Jimmy.” I giggled, feeling heat rush to my face.

“I’ll say! Let’s take a look here.” He reached down to grab a file and I leaned over to see what else he was hiding. He swatted me away playfully and I pouted. “Right, so since the last time we met, you appeared in a Marvel production, a role you’re set to reprise. You became a series regular for a book adaptation, appeared in three music videos, starred in a RomCom, attended the Met Gala, and got nominated for 5 awards, including the best leading actress. And still found the time to see me today.” He pretended to be out of breath, making me and the crowd laugh. 

“I’ll always have time for you, Jimmy,” I said with a sweet smile. 

“See! That’s what I’m talking about. This sweetness that you’re known for, I can’t wait to see it in the RomCom.” the crowd applauded. 

“I wouldn’t count on it. My character is quite different from me.” I said secretively. “And that’s all I’ll say about that. Go watch the movie if you want to know more.” I added as he opened his mouth to no doubt get more information.

“Okay, that's fair. But since we’re on the subject of love,” I rolled my eyes at that, knowing where he was going. “Is there a special someone in your life right now? One you’ll be seeing the movie with?” He added devilishly. 

“Well, there are multiple loved ones I’ll be seeing the movie with.” This caused the crowd to boo at me and I laughed. “Look, all I know is that I’m very happy right now and not lacking love in my life,” I said with a smile. 

“I guess your happiness is what matters ultimately.” He said with a sigh, making me laugh. 

“Thanks, Jimmy,” I said as I squeezed his hand softly. The crowd awed

“Alright, enough cheesiness. We’re taking a quick break, and when we come back - Y/n and I will be playing a game.” He said before turning to me to continue the conversation we were having before going on air, as the crew rushed in. 

———————

I let out a sigh as I was finally able to take off my heels after a long day, before dropping on the couch in my hotel room. Today was the last day of our press tour. We had just flown in from Paris last night and after an early morning, we spent the day running around New York for interviews. Some of them, I did alone - others with my costar who thankfully was a gem. 

Still, it had been an exhausting few weeks, and day - and there was only one thing that I wanted right now. I reached the coffee table where I had dropped my handbag and searched for my phone. I composed a number I knew by heart and waited. 

“Hello?” Instantly, my eyes lit up and a smile appeared on my face. 

“Hi, honey.” I started as I got comfortable on the couch. “Can I FaceTime you?” As soon as I’d uttered the words, I received a request to switch to video. One I was more than happy to accept. 

My smile immediately widened as the face of my girlfriend appeared on the screen. It wasn’t the same as having her with me, but it would have to do for now. 

“There you are,” I whispered

“There you are.” She echoed back and we shared a soft smile. From the looks of it, she had just woken up from a nap on set. I recognized her trailer, and I was suddenly aware of the fact that she was in the UK, in a different timezone. 

“I’m sorry we didn’t get the chance to speak these past few days,” I said softly 

“This is the life we signed up for, Y/n/n.” She said with a soft smile, although her eyes lacked the glint that they usually had. Something was wrong. “I wish we could always be together, but that’s not possible.” She whispered.

This caused me to frown. “Rex? What’s this about? This is only a busy time in our lives, and frankly, we’ve overcome bigger issues.” I said. “You’re done promoting Dune: Part 2, and you’ll finish filming Silo soon. After that, we’ll have some time to ourselves before the crazy starts back again. We just have to get through award season and then things will settle.” I said convincingly. 

“You’re right. It’s just - I was watching your interviews and it sucked to see you avoiding all questions regarding your love life. With the distance, it kinda feels like we’re not together anymore.” She sighs and suddenly lets out a humourless laugh. “This is so stupid, we’ve been dating for two, almost three years! I shouldn’t be so bothered by the distance. I must be getting my fucking period or something.” 

“Rebecca,” I say as my voice breaks. I had no idea she felt like that and seeing her so distraught, broke my heart. 

“I’m sorry, honey.” She says with that same humourless laugh that I despise. It doesn’t hold a candle to her real one. “I guess the long filming hours and going back and forth between Silo and promoting Dune has gotten to me more than I thought.” She sighs and rubs her eyes. 

“Maybe I could-” I’m interrupted by a knock on her trailer door. As she goes to open it, I hear voices, before she reappears on the screen, to end the call no doubt. 

“I’m sorry baby, they’re waiting for me in the writers’ room. I’ll talk to you later, ya?” I nod softly, the lump in my throat preventing me from speaking. She smiles at me before ending the call. 

As I stare at the hotel’s ceiling, I make a decision. 

———-

The second I step outside the airport, I’m greeted by the seemingly permanent English rain. It didn’t take me long, after my call with Rebecca had ended to get my things in order and get on a flight to the UK, where she was filming. 

Thankfully, the press tour for my movie had ended, because that would have put me in a very difficult situation, what with having to cancel some appearances. My girlfriend was sad, and nothing was going to stop me from getting to her. 

As I got into the cab that my assistant had arranged for me, I felt grateful that no reporters were around to hound me. It was still quite early and my disguise of a hoodie and sunglasses protected me long enough from the sight of the few of them lingering around. 

I didn’t spend much time at the hotel. Just enough for a shower and a change of clothes, before I was once again back on the road towards her filming location. I was let into the premises without too much of a hassle. I had the foresight to reach out to Rex’s assistant on the flight over and she had been able to grant me access, and before long I was being led to my girlfriend’s trailer by her assistant. 

“She just finished filming so she’s already in her trailer. I didn’t tell her you were coming as you asked, so she’ll be quite surprised.” She talked quietly. 

It was still early morning on set, some people were either starting to wake up or getting in from filming all night.

“How has she been doing?” I had a vague idea, but I wanted to hear it from someone who was with her when I couldn’t. 

“She’s been exhausting herself a lot. The press tour for Dune is over, but she’s still doing a lot with filming and being an executive director here.” She said sadly, and I nodded. “I’m glad you’re here Y/n. It’ll do her good to see you. I cleared her schedule for the day, so you could at least get some rest together. I know you’ve been busy too. I spoke to your assistant.” She said sternly and I rolled my eyes. These two. 

We arrived at the trailer and my heart started beating a little faster. “Thanks, Kelly, I owe you one,” I said to the assistant as I slipped inside the trailer. 

It didn’t take me long to find her around the vast camper. She was in bed, seemingly asleep. I approached her quietly and sat on the other side which had been left untouched. The side of the bed I usually slept on at home. 

I rubbed her shoulder gently, to not scare her. She opened her eyes softly and looked around, slightly disoriented before settling on me. I smiled. 

“Hi, my love,” I whispered. She stared at me for a few seconds, before sitting up and grabbing my face with both hands. 

“Y/n/n?” She said with wide eyes. “Are you really here?” She asked, roaming over my face and caressing my cheeks as if to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. 

“I’m here, Rex,” I replied with a smile before she latched herself to me in a hug, making me laugh. 

“How? Why?” She asked in the crook of my neck.

“You sounded so sad on FaceTime, I had to make sure you were okay. Plus, I missed you - so I grabbed the first flight here.” I explained as I tightened my hug and kissed her forehead. 

“Thank you.” She whispered. 

“Let’s get some sleep, and then we can talk about what you’re feeling. Okay?” I felt her nod and rearranged our positions so we were lying down. She immediately spooned me. 

For the first time in months, we slept together peacefully. 

—-------------------------

When I woke up, I felt much more at peace. I slowly opened my eyes with a smile, one which widened when I met the eyes of my girlfriend.

“You’re staring,” I whispered, my smile not leaving my face.

She put a hand on my cheek and caressed softly, before leaning down to put her lips on mine. Once we separated, she put her forehead on mine.

“How are you feeling?” I mumbled, not wanting to break the trance we were in.

“How are you feeling? She mumbled back, and I smiled.

“Better now that I’m here.” she rolled her eyes and scoffed. 

“Sap,” she said before taking a break. “Last night, I- It was a lot wasn’t it.” she finished. 

“No, you expressing how you feel will never be a lot or too much,” I added hurriedly. “It just kinda felt like you were on the verge of ending things,” I said quietly, I felt my heart beating widely as I held my breath. 

“Ending things? Y/n. Y/n/n, look at me.” she said as she grabbed my face in both hands forcing me to look at her. “I. Love. You. and it’s because I love you that I am finding our current situation so hard. Not being able to be with you or have you with me in front of everybody to celebrate our achievements. Or how we have to act single or like we’re just friends. I hate reading about the people they’re linking you to romantically. I just want to scream ‘She’s mine. Back off.’ And it’s kinda killing me.” she said as she leaned against the headboard. 

“I am yours,” I said as I grabbed her hands, willing myself not to cry. 

“I know baby. Just like I know you understand and feel the same way,” she said as I looked down. We stayed quiet for a moment, thinking of our predicament and what was being stolen from us. 

“The Oscars,” I suddenly said with renewed hope, as she looked at me in confusion. “I know we’re both technically going with our own cast - but would you go with me as my date,” I asked before quickly adding. “Unless - maybe our agents are right and we sh-” she interrupted me as I felt the doubt take over. 

“They’re not. And we should have never let them silence our love,” she said. “Of course, I’ll go with you. We’ll pose on the red carpet, I’ll kiss you in front of the camera lights and when you win - no one will cheer louder than me,” she said with a wide smile. I was quick to tackle her to the bed, kissing her all over her face. 

Her laughter made my heart sing. 

—-------------

This was not how I wanted the day to go. I was supposed to wake up bright and early, have some breakfast from her favourite cafe in the city delivered to her hotel room at the same time that she would receive the huge bouquet I had ordered weeks in advance.  Then, as we both got ready in our own hotel, we’d be texting like teenagers going on a first date, right until the red carpet. There, I’d see her and rush to her without a care in the world. I would tell her how beautiful she looks and we’d pose for pictures and kiss. Interviewers would have questions about our relationship, and we’d laugh our way through them. Rebecca, answering with her usual charm and wit, and me with heart eyes solely focused on her. 

Instead, my flight from Toronto had been delayed and I was rushing to get ready. I wouldn’t make it to the red carpet on time, with this traffic, only being able to slide in as the awards started. 

I had spoken to Rex when I landed and obviously, she hadn’t been happy.

“Hi, honey! Where are you, it’s kinda loud,” she said joyfully. I could hear the rushing around as her glam team worked. 

“I’m at the airport,” I said and closed my eyes, as there was silence on the other end. 

“I’m guessing you’re not going to make it to the red carpet?” she asked, and my lack of answer confirmed the statement. “Of course, it would’ve been too easy. It was stupid to hope th-” She cut herself off and let out a sigh. 

“Rex, don’t say that. This is nothing, we still hav-” she interrupted me as I tried to fix things desperately.

“I have to go. I’ll see you there.” and with that, she ended the call. 

She hadn’t answered any of my calls or replied to my texts since then. I wanted to believe that they had taken her phone away so they could focus on getting ready, but my anxiety was telling me something else. 

The car rolled up to the venue and I was quickly rushed inside and to my seat as the host was in the middle of his opening monologue. 

“And here comes Y/n L/n, everyone. She’s nominated for best leading actress tonight, ladies and gentlemen.” the audience clapped and I tried to calm my heart as my face appeared on the big screens. But the host wasn’t quite done with me, yet. “Doesn’t she look beautiful? Straight from a fairytale. Although, if I recall correctly, Cinderella rushed out of the ball, not to it.” he said as the audience laughed and I felt myself wanting to die. 

Thankfully he moved on, and the ceremony started. I was almost breaking my neck trying to find Rebecca, and when I did, I tried to catch her eyes - to convey how sorry I was. But she never glanced my way. I was so lost in thought that I would have missed my category coming up if it wasn’t for my costar grabbing my hand in support. 

I held my breath as the nominees were listed. And when I heard my name being called, I felt myself freeze, before being lifted in a hug and passed around from one costar to another. I willed myself to put one foot in front of another as I approached the podium under the congratulations and applause. 

I was almost to the stage when I glanced left and saw Rebecca’s face with a wide smile, clapping widely. That’s one promise that had been kept today. 

She looked beautiful, and it was as if I were in a trance as I approached her. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of her. She looked at me with a soft smile and with anticipation in her eyes, and that was all the invitation I needed to kiss her in front of all of Hollywood. That was another promise kept. 

And later on, when I posed for pictures with my Oscar and I danced at the after party, she was right there with me, as we kept our promises to each other. 

—-------------

“Hi, I’m Y/n L/n and I’ll be reading your tweets,” I said with a smile as I reached into the fish bowl for the first one. 

“Okay, this one is from @lesbianstan2000: Do you think Rebecca Ferguson uses The Voice on Y/n L/n?” I read before letting out a laugh. “She doesn’t need to. I’ll happily do whatever she asks.” I say as I wink into the camera. 

[romcomeon]

𝟎𝟎𝟓. 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

✒ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐋: he is astounded and non-plussed. he is filled with calcu-LUST!

✒ 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓: reader as aaron, satan as cady

✒ 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: satan x gn! reader, mean girls au, high school au, satan is figuratively and literally stupid with love, they are both acad achievers trope, filled with fun and fantasies during math period. not exact to the musical/a lot of creative liberties were made. warning: mathematics used as an allegory.

✒ 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐒: wc: 3k+ | read on AO3 .ᐟ

✒ 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐒: @satangcrush ﾉ @mammonsrockstargf ﾉ @nick-writes-stuff ﾉ @eraofkalki ﾉ @torchvic

First crushes? Unfamiliar.

Satan had never fully grasped the concept of a first crush when he first felt the so-called warm butterflies prancing down in the pits of his stomach. That weird burn creeping up your cheeks when you think about someone for more than five seconds. That sickening feeling of screaming into your pillow every night at the fraction of a second of a cheesy romantic fantasy.

Oh no? Is that not how it works?

Maybe you mean the emotional anguish of a lovestruck poet scribing his words in ichor. The fair maiden whisked away by a narcissistic count begging to be rescued by a handsome, well-respected knight. The two rivals lunged at each other's throats in the presence of a great war, shouting confessions and earning the audience’s pity from the first string of the lead’s last breath to the last pull of the trigger.

Love can not just be proven thematically, but also through scientific intuition; such as oxytocin. As oxytocin is associated with trust, sexual arousal and relationship building, it's sometimes referred to as the “love hormone” or “cuddle chemical.”

During childbirth, oxytocin stimulates uterine contractions and facilitates lactation by promoting milk ejection. Well, beyond that, oxytocin is involved in developing trust and empathy between individuals, enhancing social interactions, and strengthening relationships. Research also suggests that it may influence stress reduction and overall well-being. And oxytocin has also proven to not only work in the context of romantic love, but in platonic and familial bonds all the like.

Love is also applied more in the mythological context. The ancient Greeks consider love as a major pivot point in one’s life, emphasized by the many temples worshiping such deities. A notable example would be Aphrodite, the predominant symbol of love and beauty among the greek pantheon.

It didn’t matter how sensual the portrayals were, as Aphrodite had always symbolized love as a whole. Starting with oneself in Philautia, rooting its way towards Agape, or love for everyone else. Entwined in these emotions were Philia, a love formed from a long lasting friendship.

And of course there was Eros. Eros, the symbol of romance and intimacy, where in an act of passion two souls merge and drown among their pleasures. After that, it turned out to be Pragma. Love wasn’t just sex, of course, it needed meaning.

Pragma, the slow, meticulous, carefully nurtured sense of true love. From a simple story of “once upon a time, there was love at first sight,” to the melancholic departure of “‘til death do us part”; Pragma became the end goal for most souls. A yearning that spans beyond eternity, making its mark in the mortal earth and ascending beyond our subconscious. Pragma was beautiful. 

And then came the starting spark. The “casual” goers turned into an emotional rollercoaster. Every hip, up-to-date teenager heard of his horrific thing that many choose to avoid it! Oh the tragedy!

Rumors speculate that this thing rips off the bonds of Philia, or further cements the destiny of Pragma. Sometimes these instances come in cheeky, little dreams, often mistaken for Eros when the infatuation could be described as a simple fling. Like what Satan heard shouting across the halls before the bell rang:

“QUIT IT NERD! THEY’LL NEVER LIKE YOU, LOW-VI!” 

—wow. American high schoolers have zero chill. To be laughed at for a simple meek confession that wasn't even on purpose, to these elaborate schemes of trying to forget such in the span of weeks. Some say it is annoying, others say it is an inspiration, but most agree that once it clouds your mind then there is no escape.

You are simply a goner. Gone are the normal everyday lives where you do your tasks normally. Gone are basic social skills when talking to this person face to face where you suddenly slur your words out like a hangry hippopotamus. Gone may be your suave, charm, will to live and step foot into society due to the amount of sheer embarrassment blah blah blah, yada yada yada.

Yeah, Satan got nothing from that the first time he thought about it when stepping foot into this new place. As far as he knew, it wasn’t like this back when he and his family where off during his ‘parent’s’ work in Africa: studying wildlife and socio-economic conditions and not… I don't know, feelings?

Hearing the mad lad screaming profanities at the top of his lung earlier made the blonde cling onto his cardigan, swiftly grabbing the book and leaving the sight in a matter of seconds. Luckily it was nearly the start of first period so a sigh of relief escaped from him, but oh my were these people just continuing to talk more about that escapade? 

Poor Low-vi. He almost deserved it.

Now where was he…? Ms. Neverbury still hadn’t gotten through half the attendance sheet and Satan was already tapping the eraser end of his pencil against the blank notebook for two and a half minutes. Emerald eyes scan the room, taking in the bright walls decorated with countless manuscripts, letters spelling out common English words, and pictures that reminded him of a high-end kindergarten. Washed out voices of “present” and “here” leave his ears, as the blonde’s mind starts to wonder again at the faint glimpse of red-marked hearts scribbled on the window.

Right. This oh-so terrible feeling that everyone was fussing about. Satan believed that the scholars would call this Ludus, or simply the playful act of love.

Feelings developed out of whimsy, more focused on admiring one’s aesthetics than forming a true, deep connection that transcends space and time. The thing that allegedly lead to so many heartbreaks; some even crying for months on end because of their unreciprocated feelings.

Others laugh at how some “weak minded idiots” have very puny hearts, only to see them grow envious at the sight of someone else clasping arms with their boo boo bear.

Ugh. Thinking about that is stupid. Love is so so stupid. 

Which is why you can’t really prove love. It just… happens? It’s unpredictable. You may think it’s going to be a Pragma forevermore until one of them is scared of commitment because it was one big Ludus.

It didn’t, per say, make sense.

Why obsess over something that can’t be proven? It’s not like mathematics. In a scenario given two conditions, such as x and y; where x is the universal—

And he had to be reminded how he was almost late. Just wonderful. 

Sure, Satan would navigate the school a lot easier had he not just moved from an entirely different continent, but high school directions were as shit as an endangered species’ fecal matter. Up close, for the extra measure.

“Morningstar, Satan?”

“Here,” Satan blurted. 

Everybody heard of first heart breaks? That felt more natural. 

“Pssst.”

Satan perked up from his desk, cocking his head at whoever called his attention. Or was it because the hiss reminded him of the indefinite amount of cobras that surround their tents whenever his father insists on going on long-term trips fully unprepared? It could be the latter, could be not. What he wasn't prepared for was as soon as his gaze lifted from the now pre-calculus filled page, he felt he had gone frozen.

You faced beside you as you tilted your head, scanning the new blood’s notebook. With a tiny ‘hm’, you had your chin up, before greeting him with a charming smile. “Hey there,” you whispered.

Satan had all his attention on you. His own self being unashamed of subconsciously peering over your body, taking in every minute detail from the way your hair framed your hair to the weight of your jacket draped on your shoulder. Down to the minute flutter of your lashes, and the tiny crinkle under your eyes as your smile widens while introducing your name. 

You cleared your throat. “You are?”

“Satan.”

Oh Diavolo, did his voice nearly crack? Thank eternal damnation since you seemed to just nodded along, taking a brief mental note of the identity of possibly a new friend. In the meantime, you lean a bit closer. “Are you new?” you whispered once more, peeking at yours sides so long as to not get caught by this terror teacher.

“You got that right,” Satan sighed. “I just moved here so I could make ‘human’ friends.”

You chuckled. You revert back to your chair, arms stretched out before placing them behind your neck. You rest your back against the backrest, adjusting yourself every so often to keep yourself comfortable. “That’s sick.” 

The teacher taps her ruler on the wooden table. Shakes her head, almost unenthusiastic about today’s lesson. “Okay, let’s dive right in,” she starts off, pulling the thick open book towards her, as her hands glide across the pages. “Chapter 1: Limits and their Properties,” she said, and the class immediately grabbed their own respective books as they flipped to the given chapter.

“What the heck are limits, you say?” the miss scoffs, waving her ruler around before slapping its edge on her palm. The tiny clanks of her heels echo through the room, while momentarily pushing her narrow-framed glasses up the bridge of her nose. “If I write the equation: the limit as X approaches two of x plus one, the function I’m taking the limit of, I don’t expect you to know—”

“X is equal to three.”

Her steps come to a halt. She stared down at the class, amber eyes squinting. “Come again?”

“X is equal to three,” Satan repeats. “X approaching two with the condition of x plus one, the limit would be three.”

The class was silent, as everyone’s vision was set on the new student. Satan lets out a ‘tsk’, scrunching the collar of his light pink cardigan to avert his attention away from filthy, prying eyes. Not that he had to brush off a growing blush from a special set of spectacles. Oh no. 

Miss Neverberry, the teacher at hand, had her curiosity piqued. “Tell me, Mr. Morningstar, find the value of k for which the following limits exist. For the limit to exist we have to cancel x minus 3.”

Not a moment to spare, Satan’s mind was now set on solving the given problem. Like clockwork, with every snap of his finger as he mumbles the possibilities, canceling out assumptions based on the given formation, and proving his final answer through extra steps before he announces his final verdict. Yes he is sure the problem is simple enough and it isn’t as complicated as finding derivatives or explaining trends. But he’d much rather spare himself the embarrassment rather than proclaiming the right magnitude with the wrong sign.

“K is equal to…” Satan pauses, trailing off as each snap of his fingers grows louder while he solidifies the claim in his mind. “K is equal to negative three.”

Miss Neverberry clapped her hands. “Indeed!” 

The class was pleasantly surprised, some calling for small applause. “Damn boy,” one of them comments.

Satan was used to praise. When he got into Trigonometry at the age of 10, he was praised for being a genius. At least, he wasn’t supposed to be affected. Yet there it was, that stupid feeling prancing in his heart and going to a near frenzy when he hears the soothing melody of your voice that was filtered in his brain that it didn’t matter if you sounded exactly like that.

“Wow,” you let out a soft laugh, a smirk ghosting your lips.  “Are you trying to make the rest of us look dumb?”

“I’m not trying,” Satan answered. “It’s just happening.” 

You looked amused.  “Challenge accepted. I’ll have to play at your level. Like how J.R. Smith had to step up when Lebron Ja—” 

The last time Satan had a crush, that fickle heart ran away. 

Literally. The kid ran away. And being Kenyan, they ran fast. 

It’s okay, Satan was five, there were no hard feelings. Except tantrums. And throwing his toys at the wall. And nearly getting lost in one of the cities. In short, it didn’t last. And there was another incident when he was nine, going to one of the peace corp tents carrying a peony of small, wilted flowers.

They laughed. They laughed and it made Satan cry. 

By the age of thirteen, as he rummages through the larg stacks of books pilled behind their temporary home, he comes across a note on general algebra. At the first page, his tiny nails piercing through the thick paper, that’s when Satn declared he would rather not focus on love in the meantime.

Instead, he’d be more inclined to his knowledge. To supplement his intuition until he is fully ready for the commitment. Beecause, as one might theorize, your feelings being unreciprocated is a testament to you not being ready for what’s there in the world. As such, in his logic, by studying math, he’ll be able to dodge the pain that romance brings.

Soon, Elementary algebra morphed into Algebra two, and then Geometry, praised with a good sense of Statistics and General Probability. He memorized the digits of pi by heart, and had preferred to solve questions mentally, where if he gets a question wrong, he’ll try again for countless more attempts.

Three point one four one five nine, two six five three five eight nine… and so on.

Mathematics became a gateway for other knowledge. Since he first discovered it in a book, it allowed him to broaden his scope by dabbling into other literature: biology, chemistry, physics until it reached specialized studies and expounded towards surreal theorems on the human mind.

If it weren’t for the simple introduction to the variable x, Satan would have never had the spark to constantly find answers to the unknown.

And even when he did, new variables resurfaced, each with their own specialized formula waiting to be discovered. 

And it seemed it had gone beyond the boundaries of real numbers. He is nonplussed, suppressing the ever growing curiosity known as calcu-lust.

Dragging him down to the basics where he first discovered the duality of x and y.

Given the points P and Q where it signifies where the line meets. Connections can be marked by the distance formula of d is equal to the quantity square root of (x2-x1) squared minus (y2-y1) squared.

When time passes P and Q move closer towards one another, such that d decreases with every chance of its coordinates. In a hypothetical scenario that one moved by about 3 units, a possible outcome could be that the distances had decreased from 5 to 1.7 units depending on the other variable. 

From here they find their midpoint M, symbolized by dividing their exes and whys into perfect halves, marking the new coordinate on the given plane.

Noting that the slope equation is equivalent to y-y1=m(x-x1), when the time is right, the slope becomes y=x+1.

At the right set of numbers, the right computation, and a bit of fate, when x approaches positive infinity, y increases. As when one is happy, they too can make the other happier forevermore. 

There may be simpler examples of how love works, yet this is what makes the most sense to Satan. Love proven by arithmetic. Solid evidence that required a special kind of understanding. It could be simple for one to say “when you are happy, me happy,” but sometimes, it takes convincing oneself of the truth at front.

Love may not be so stupid. But one’s perception could be.

“Find x?”

“X is 2-5-6 point.. 9-8”

“Given the parameters, what if the shortest length of side A in the nearest tenth?”

“Seven-tenths.”

“What is the difference of the square root of three over sin(20) and 1 divided by cos(20)?”

“Four multiplied by the quotient of sin(60) minus sin(20) over sin(40)...”

“It’s just four.”

“Marvelous! Marvelous!” the teacher claps, tapping her ruler on the blackboard. “Such bright minded students we got this semester!”

Ms. Neverberry turned around, as students could mutter a sliver of “thank the devil” slipped from the madame’s lips.

A fourth of the class snickered, fondly recalling the endless tattletales of how this batch of students had a worse performing grade compared to the batches that preceded it. It didn't matter how the lesson degraded from calculus back to trigonometry, but the teacher reckoned that everyone needed a refresher.

You lean closer towards Satan once more, nudging his elbow. “Hey, can I have an eraser?” And didn’t the pastel blends of yellow and pink suit him nicely, complimenting the vibrancy of his green eyes? How he paired well with the softness despite having a near-opposite attitude, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing how it just made him… so..

“I would love to.” Satan whispers, before coughing to his fist. “Ahem. Sorry. Just take it.”

You shook your thoughts away from that developing daydream, quickly snatching the Siamese cat themes eraser—rather high quality—and making sure to return it after use.

And it was also safe to say that it hadn’t yet marked the end of your not-so-subtle note passing. Every time you feel unsure of a number, you turn towards the equivalent of a sentient calculator, showing him your sheet and asking for any corrections.

Most of the time there weren’t any errors. And when there were, it was minor.

“Is this correct?”

Satan raised his brow, his face contorting in unease. “Double negative is.. Negative?”

“Ah.. missed that, thank you.”

Most of it was minor. 

And mostly you were obvious to the said blond growing braver by the second, seemingly not paying attention to the lessons if it weren’t for his quick-witted responses to every practice drill. How he wondered how you were in those clothes… Almost undressing you with his eyes but laden in the gaze of a devout poet than a pervert.

If you wanted you could joke about if he was enjoying the view and Satan would absolutely deny it. Not out of hiding his feelings but more so on the actions caused by said feelings. If only you understood how Satan views love as a concept, rather than a concrete set of rules that follow direct boundaries. How this little tinge of Ludus, like he hypothesized, shouldn’t be as nerve wracking as what their peers keep spouting on.

It was still Ludus until one of the final equations presented on the board. Find the condition such that—

“Two over zero is undefined!”

“Two over zero is undefined!”

“Jinx!” you laughed, watching your new friend’s face flush crimson.

Satan crossed his arms, letting out a sarcastic “hah..” before muttering beneath his breath. What were they? You could care less. 

Oh the wonders of love-based mathematics.

He didn’t get it. Didn’t get it — ‘til now.

a/n: okay... the 5th installment that got to be the second upload... oops? I am so so sorry- the first half of october had been hectic and as such I was forced to cancel 3 out of the 8 stories. the good news is that I could still work on the other stories with ample of time, and to make it up, I will be following up the 3 fics in November—or at least before a December event..

this is shorter than the last because it is meant to be! it's just a simple moment with sprinkles of small flashbacks to reflect one dozing off, and honestly? anything longer would be dragging the whole song.

that's all, and always remember: you can run the world with shoes you cannot walk in!! <3 xo, eden.

event masterlist | main masterlist | divider by cafekitsune

[agentmarcuspike]

"is there a reason you're naked in my bed?" part 3

(gif by @pascalsky)

cw: neighbor!dbf!joel x f!reader, smut, manipulation, misogyny (sorry), dubcon (but it's ok), penetration, oral m and f recieving, gun present, implied underage sex but it's not really, threats of violence, uhhh jumping from a roof? synopsis: you're on a terrible date and call your neighbor joel for help. he helps you out in more ways than one... a/n: this is my first attempt at smut, please be nice w.c. 3k lmao

part one + two + four

You try not to roll your eyes as your date, Jack, blabbers on about how much make-up turns him off, how he prefers his women natural, and how much of a womanizer he is.

The whole evening has been like this, only interrupted by him sending his friends at an adjacent table looks saying, "Oh yeah. Look at this catch. I'm gettin’ sum tonight." As if you're not sitting right in front of him and have eyes. 

"I'm just saying," Jack continues, and you force yourself to listen. "There’s beauty in youth and innocence, right? Like, any man who says he wouldn’t choose 18 over 25 is lying," He looks so full of himself, leaning back in his chair, spreading his scrawny legs as much as possible. 

You want nothing more than to knock this guy off his high fucking horse and teach him some sort of lesson. Scare the creep and cockiness out of him. You've been mulling it over all night, pretending to listen to his awful misogyny, and you have a vague idea about what you could do, but it involves taking him home, and you're not sure it's worth it.

"Sure," you lie. "A lock that can be opened by many keys versus a key that opens many locks et cetera." The remark is meant to challenge him, but he bites.

"Right! You get it!" He leans forward on his elbows. "You know, I rarely meet girls as smart as you. Females can't usually," He taps a finger to his temple. "keep up with me."

That almost makes you laugh out loud. Who does this guy think he is? But you bite your tongue and smile politely, as he snaps his fingers at a waitress. 

"Hey!" he all but yells. "I'd like to pay for the little lady and myself." You want to wipe the satisfied grin off his face, but instead you send an apologetic look to the poor waitress, and excuse yourself.

In the bathroom you take out your phone and set your plan into action.

YOU: I need your help.JOEL: Where's the body? YOU: On its way to your bedroom. JOEL: Key’s outside.

All of the lights in Joel’s house are off as you approach, and you’re crossing your fingers in your pockets, hoping that means he understood your vague explanation over the phone. 

"So…" You turn to Jack and gesture up at your neighbor’s house. "This is me!"

He raises his brows, impressed. "Wow," he replies. "You live here? On your own?"

"Mhm," you humor him through a smile threatening to escape as a laugh. He grabs your hand pulling you towards him, but as he leans in to push his lips to yours, you swerve.

"Quick, before the neighbors see," You grab his hand and lead him up the stairs to porch, squatting down by the door mat. The key is there. You flash Jack a quick smile, before turning to unlock Joel’s front door.

Back in Joel Miller’s bedroom. Everything just as you last saw it. He really wasn’t joking about not changing the sheets, you think, as you plop yourself down on the mattress.

Jack is quick to follow, throwing himself at you. His hands are all over the place, squeezing your tits way too hard, sucking himself onto your lips like a vacuum cleaner. You can barely get out of his grip enough to stop him from tearing at your shirt.

"You first," you say, out of breath, and he pulls his shirt over his head. He's... for lack of a better word, ripped. Breathing strained, he's flexing his washboard abs at you, and you're more impressed with the amount of time he must have spent working on it, than you are turned on. "Pants too."

He stands up, quickly undressing, before he starts pulling at your skirt. Ideally, you wouldn't let it go this far, preferring to not let him touch you at all, but he has already pulled your skirt and panties off, and placed himself between your legs on the bed.

"Want me to go down on you?" he grins. "I'm really good at it."

You disguise your laugh as a cough. "No that's fine, I'm good."

As if he didn't hear you, he disappears between your thighs, and starts lapping at you, slightly above the right spot.

"You like that?" he asks you, almost immediately. You don't.

"Mhm," you manage, biting down on your lips to stop from laughing at the absurdity of this guy's unjustified confidence in his own abilities.

“Your body is amazing,” he says, but before you can thank him, he continues, “like a solid 7/10. If you shaved, you’d be an eight.”

Thank God he’s too busy doing whatever it is he’s doing down there, because you can only gape and roll your eyes at the backhanded compliment.

After about a minute of slurping, he asks you if you're close yet, and you just can't keep it in anymore. You let out a snort, and he looks up at you confused, but only for a second, because the next thing you know, Joel Miller bursts through the door.

Armed with a rifle.

"Get the fuck out of my house," he yells. Jack leaps to his feet, quickly gathering his clothes.

"Oh shit," he whispers, looking to you for help. You cover your mouth to hide your grin, playing along.

"Daddy!" you yelp.

"That's right," Joel replies, placing his foot on Jack's crumpled up jeans, just as the owner is about to reach for them. "That's my baby girl you're trying to fuck.”

Jack steps away, unsure of what to do. "I'm so sorry, sir, I didn't— I didn't know..." he mumbles. "Wait, how old are you?" He turns to you, hands in the air.

You feign innocence, thinking of the most scandalous number you could get away with. "16...?"

His eyes widen and he swallows harshly. "I'll leave right now."

"Yeah you will."

Joel stares him down, making no signs of moving from the doorway he's occupying. Jack looks back and forth between the two of you, unsure of what to do, before Joel breaks the silence again. "You can use the window." he cocks his head towards the second story window at the end of the room.

"What?" Jack looks at you again, genuine concern in his eyes. He takes a moment too long to move, because Joel yaps again, pointing the rifle at the half naked man.

"Move!"

And towards the window he goes. He pushes it open, one leg outside, looking back at you for support you’re not going to give him. Then he meets Joel's threatening stare, and climbs all the way out on the gable. Joel walks towards the window, watching as Jack slides down the roof, yelping as his feet hit the ground underneath.

Joel throws his jeans and shoes out after him. "And don’t come back!" he bellows.

You're still laughing when he puts the rifle down and turns towards the bed.

"Too much? S'not loaded," he assures you.

"Kinda wish it had been," you giggle back.

He snickers and sits down next to you. You've covered yourself with his sheets but feel strangely at ease considering how undressed you are in front of him.

"You doin' alright?" With his brows furrowed at you, he looks genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you smile reassuringly. He smiles back and lays down on top of the covers. “It was funny.”

"Did I come in here too early?"

"No, you came in way too late," you laugh. It didn't bother you too much, but deep down you wish you had been interrupted before the asshole put his mouth on you.

"Oh..." Joel looks away, and you wonder if it's the light, or if he's actually blushing. "So, you... Did you... Finish already?"

It takes you a second to realize what he's talking about, and then you laugh again. "No, oh my god, no!"

You cover your face with your hands as you giggle, embarrassed, and feel the bed shift under his weight as he moves. When you look back up, he's right next to you.

Joel carefully brushes your hair behind your ear and leans down to plant a kiss on your shoulder. Goosebumps appear down your arms, and you shuffle under the bedsheet, feeling a rush to the pit of your stomach.

"Do you want to? Finish?" The question should have caught you off guard, Mr. Miller being your dad's friend, your neighbor through most of your childhood. But it doesn't. You already know you want to.

You nod slowly, and feel your breathing get heavier, as Joel's hand moves the covers away. You're still wearing your shirt, but you feel more naked than you have been all night.

Joel's hand continues down your thigh, caressing and squeezing lightly, and you press your legs together to alleviate some of the pressure building between them. Then he looks up at you, placing his other hand on your cheek, and leans in. For him you don't swerve.

His lips touch yours lightly, only a delicate brush, before he kisses you harder, properly. The force of the feelings arising in you takes your breath away, and you fall backwards onto the mattress. Joel follows, without breaking the kiss, landing carefully on top of you. As your mouths explore each other, you open your legs, inviting him between them.

The jeans covering his bulging erection is rubbing against your own growing need, and you could get off just like that, but you suspend it by shoving your hand between the two of you, cupping him. He groans into your mouth, just as you gasp into his at the feel of his size under your palm.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, moving one of his big hands to explore your chest.

“Been thinkin’ about you. About these.” He gives the breast in his hand a light squeeze, covering your neck and collarbone in light kisses.

“Been thinking about you too, Miller,” you sigh back at the sensation. “For years.”

He stops for a second, and you can feel him smile against your skin. Oh God, what did you just say.

“Years? Really?”

You can feel yourself blushing, the blood previously between your legs now in your face. Why did you say that?! You suppress the need to get up and knock your head against a wall over and over again.

Joel’s kisses continue, moving down to your belly.

“Fucking cliché,” he looks up at you, grinning like a devil.

“Well,” His mouth is at your inner thigh now, giving it a careful bite. “I guess dreams really do come true.”

And then his tongue meets your wetness, moving through your folds, from your core to your clit, in one long movement. Your hands grip at his dark curls, as he repeats the motion, dragging soft moans from you.

Joel looks up at you again. “He didn’t do it like this, did he?” he says, mouth full of poise and pussy. His soft lips swipe your clit, and you stifle a laugh as you shake your head. No, he didn’t. No one has.

The hard tip of his tongue caresses your swollenness, and you can see him moving a hand down to clutch at his own. The thought of him touching himself makes you even wetter. You long to see him, to feel him inside of you.

“Joel,” you moan, as you near your finish, but you don’t want to go there yet.

He looks up at you, only his dark eyes visible over your pubic bone.

“Joel, I want you.”

He laughs softly at that. “You’re having me right now, baby,” His thumb rubs at your center as he says it, causing you to grasp at the bedsheets. Not yet, not yet.

“I want you inside of me.”

He pauses, giving your sex a final taste before he sits back on his heels.

“I bet you do,” he says as he removes his belt and opens the zipper of his jeans. They’re strained around his hardness, and you sit up to knead his bulge, looking up at him with eyes full of compliance. He pulls his jeans and boxers down for you, his hard cock springing free, and you gasp at the sight of him.

He chuckles at your reaction, but makes no comment, other than pumping himself carefully a few times, nudging it towards your face.

“Come on, now”, he says, and you get closer. “Give it a kiss, get to know it.”

It’s not like you haven’t done it before, but you’ve never wanted to like this. You kiss the head of his cock, before grabbing the base with your hand, placing little kisses all over his shaft as well, prolonging the tease. From the soft moans it elicits from him, you suspect he wants it as much as you do.

Joel’s own hand comes to join yours around him, carefully parting your lips with the head, silently urging you to quicken. So you go all in at once. You open your mouth, taking him as far back as you can, triggering your gag reflex, making your mouth fill with spit. He groans loudly at that.

“F-fuck,” he sighs, throwing his head back. “Holy shit, girl”.

You smile, mouth full of him, and give him a few strokes with your fist while waiting for your mouth to re-fill with saliva. You go at him again, this time pumping him into your wet pit, head bobbing back and forth over him.

His hands grab at your hair, almost holding you back with the force of his grip on you.

“Careful, angel, careful,” he stutters. “You’re driving me insane.”

Joel moves his hand to your jaw and carefully drags you off of him with a soft pop.

He pushes you back down on your back, his naked groin against your own, lowering the rest of his clothed body down to whisper in your ear.

“This what you want?”

You swallow harshly, the taste of his dick still in your mouth. “Yes. Yes.”

“Yeah?” he repeats, teasing your opening. His eyes search for yours, and you meet his thirsty gaze.

“I want you.”

It’s the confirmation he needs. He pushes inside of you, the stretch of his girth stinging pleasantly as he opens you up. A grunt escapes him as he bottoms you, and you yelp at the sensation. “Ah!”

He pauses and looks at you. “You good?”

You are. “Yeah, it’s just a lot.” you admit. “You’re… big.”

He grins at that. “Just tell me what’s too much, baby.”

Grabbing his hips and pushing him back in, you grind against him. “Slow,” you say.

“However you want it, princess.”

He cages your head with his strong arms, the ones you’ve been secretly pining for when you’ve caught him mowing the lawn bare-chested through the years, and you squeeze his bicep, your other hand grabbing his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. He groans into your mouth as he lets you work him slowly in and out of you, and he pushes his tongue into you as well, filling you up where you’ve so desperately craved him.

You move your hand down to touch your throbbing clit, sighing as relief washes over you. You’re so close, you can feel yourself pulse around Joel’s cock.

“Come on, baby, you can do it,” he coaxes. “You’re choking my cock so good.”

His words of encouragement send you over the age, and your back arches as you reach your climax. You feel him fighting with your body to stay inside of you, your walls clamping hard around him. Your breath catches in your chest, legs shaking, and as your orgasm nears an end, Joel’s hips slam into you over and over again, his pubic bone grinding against your sensitive clit as he fucks you hard. His breath quickens in your ear, nearing his own finish. His arms are snug around you, holding onto you for dear life.

“Come inside me,” you whisper, hands on his ass to let him know you don’t want him to pull out. The words seem to hit the spot, because a second later he comes with a series of moans, and a few scattered “fucks” and “holy shits”.

You feel his hardness soften inside you, twitching, sending aftershocks of orgasm through you, his and your own. His exhaustion quick in his clothed chest, pressed firmly against your own. You don’t dare to move, worried it’ll send him the wrong signal, that you want him off you. You don’t. So you lay still, breathing softly through your nose.

Joel kisses your cheekbone as he rolls over, covering you both with the comforter, and you snuggle into his side. A minute goes by, only filled with your eventually calm breathing, before Joel turns to you.

"Was it everything you thought it would be?" he jokes.

You punch his shoulder and bury your face in you chest as you both giggle at how the evening has ended. His hand carefully plays with your hair. You turn your head upwards to plant a kiss on his cheek, his stubble tickling you skin.

"Don't get to comfortable," he huffs, and moves his hand from your hair to caress your arm which lays draped across his midriff.

"Why?" you reply without looking up at him, hoping the disappointment isn't too obvious in your voice.

"Promised your old man I'd help set up his new DVD player tonight," he says. "So don't fall asleep on me 'cause I gotta get back up soon."

You close your eyes in relief, comforted by the fact that he didn't mean "don't get comfortable with us, with this".

"We probably shouldn't arrive together, anyway," he continues. "You're supposed to be at a terrible date, remember?"

You sit up on your elbow, looking at him earnestly.

"If you go over first, will you promise to comfort me when I come broken hearted and crying through the door right after?"

He chuckles at that.

"'Course I will." He sits up too, planting a kiss on your hair, before getting out of bed. He tucks himself back into his underwear, still fully clothed, grabbing a shirt that hangs over a chair in the corner of the room.

"Give me 15," he says, buttoning his cuffs, heading towards the open bedroom door.

He looks back at you tangled in his sheets, and nods towards you.

"Gotta change 'em tonight," he decides. "Next time I want just you and me on them."

He winks at you, and closes the door behind him.

a/n: screams what did i do

thanks to @toxicanonymity for the date's name lmao

[stormhearty]

Death's Magic

Note: This is an idea that I’ve had for awhile, though the original idea had a merge with the World of Harry Potter, I thought it might have been better and easier to just keep it in the world of ACOTAR but change up a few things. please do forgive if I have some wrong information, I have only read up to ACOWAR. This scene is based on chapter 58-59 of A Court of Mist and Fury when Velaris was attacked by the Attor-like creatures. Also, I wrote this in Notion and decided to put it in Word to see how long it was — it was 5+ pages and I was like wow.

Summary: When the truth of your powers is revealed to your bonded mates, Eris and Rhysand, and your Court, histories are exposed, insecurities are talked about. But you know… all you know despite the navigating that your mates will always be with you.

Word Count: 3k

Triggers: death, fighting, insecurities

Parings: Eris x Death!Reader x Rhysand (feat. Night Court characters)

“You will never know how that child’s feels…” Armen growled, silver eyes glowing as she glared at the two lords that held her lady. Eyes shifted from the two males, that was bonded to the female that was at the center of everything, those silver eyes shifted from pure anger to something softer — something that was rarely seen with the ancient being. Eris brought you closer to his arms, as he watched Rhysand’s hand gently caress your brows, the two of them hoping you’d wake up to explain what had happened in the span of twenty-four hours.

It had been a long day for everyone in that room — the attack on Velaris by the Attor by Hybern, shook everyone to their core. None of them thought that the King would be able to break through the shields that surrounded the city; however, he did and almost plunged their home into destruction. Cassian and Azriel were barely able to winnow to the city on time to try to defend it. Mor had been away on official business while Armen was with Varian at the Autumn Court with Eris to try to convince Eris’ father to fight against Hybern. Velaris’ High Lord was on a search, attempting to find Myriam and Drakon to help with the looming threat that is Hybern. It had left the city vulnerable, the King believing it was an easy attempt to wipe out its growing enemy without its High Lord and protectors. However, it was futile, unaware of the shadow and darkness that lingered there — that you had stayed behind to quietly protect the city.

When you had been introduced by Armen to the Inner Circle, you were a person of mysterious origin — the Inner Circle very wary about you, for a very good reason. The only reason why you were able to stay in Valeris was because of Armen. She was able to find you a place to stay in the outskirts of the city, accompanying you to every Inner Circle meeting and staying by your side while you had adjusted to your new life. Whenever Rhysand had inquired about you — your history, your origin, you in general, Armen had become over-protective — silencing the Night Court Lord with just a glare.

“Her past is something I cannot share. She has her own darkness, that she has to hide to live with us in the light. Do not inquire anymore than you should. She is loyal, that is the only thing you should know about her,” was the only thing that Armen would ever share.

You had accompanied him and the Inner Circle — as the substitute of Armen when the ancient being was busy or reluctant of accompanying the group to another Court. You had been nothing but a whisp of shadow during those times, similar to Azriel, hiding within the shadows, watching over those who lived in the light.

One day when you had accompanied Rhysand to the Autumn Court to visit its High Lord. Another attempt to convince the Vanserra Lord to rally against Hybern. When the two of you had stepped into the massive throne room, you were greeted by the eldest Vanserra son. The three of you looked at one another before you felt a snap against your chest.

You pressed a gloved hand against your chest, it was an unusual feeling for you; however, you watched as the High Lord and the High Lord heir collapse onto their knees, feeling on how strong that snap was against their chest.

Brows furrowed as you watched them in confusion — their panting, and their equal amount of confusion as they looked at each other before turning to you, violet and amber eyes staring at you. Silence surrounded the three of you, and a heartbeat later, the two of them stood up, slowly surrounding you. Tilting your head up to look at the two, confusion still evident in your features, “… Are you two alright?” you voiced.

Apparently you had no idea what had just transpired, and the only thing that had to be said was, “… You are our mate…”

It had been a long, winding road for Eris and Rhysand to accept that they shared a mate. It was difficult… you rarely opened up to either of them, it was a slow tedious thing, and Eris was rarely available to grow the mating bond with you. The three of you had to meet in secret to ensure the safety of this bond. The bond had made both males over protective and Rhysand understood why Armen was so, over you. Both of them could feel the obscurity on your side of the bond, them understand that you had no idea what it had meant to be in a Cauldron-blessed bond. It took a lot on both their end to figure you out, open you up to the point you trusted them, and in turn, trust you.

By the time Rhysand had winnowed to the House of Wind where the Attor had been successful in infiltrating, the High Lord had found you — your delicate stature fighting against the Attor. Magic fighting against magic, anything that Attor tried to use against you would bounce off the glimmering shield of darkness that surrounds you. Rhysand watched you, your movement swift and smooth, much like the creature you fought; as if you were the wind itself, you were shadow itself. He felt the air move around him, feeling his brothers and the rest of the Inner Court arriving, watching the scene fold in front of them. Rhysand watched as Armen arrive with Varian in toe, eyes widening slightly as he saw Eris arrive along with them. Eris moved, fighting against the wind that swirled around the throne room towards the High Lord of Night Court, towards his mate. Eris placed a hand on Rhysand’s shoulder, a movement of support as they locked eyes for a moment before looking back at the fight — back to the third of their mating bond — towards you.

All of them watched as a slender hand reached above, magic pulsating around them as another wind of glimmer and darkness wafted through the air — growing wider and bigger. Rhysand watched as that shield surrounded not only him but his family and soon his whole home. Eyes looking out the window to see a swarm of Attor-like creatures, flying towards the open balcony, attempt to enter the House of Wind, only to be stopped by the barrier. The magic preventing the destruction of his home.

A high shrill scream returned his attention to the action, Rhysand’s body entering into fight mode. Violet eyes looked back at fight, watching as your figure was enshroud by a shadow, one that grew large until it was large enough to reach the ceiling of the throne room. Cloaked in black robes, hood drawn over its head — a creature much like the Attor itself, much like the Suriel, something similar to the Bone Carver in the Prison, to the Weaver in the Middle — but they knew that this creature was nothing like the previous, it was something darker… something more powerful. They watched as the shadow extended its hand, a hand — nothing but bone and tendon exposed, pointing its long bony finger towards the Attor, who had knelt on its knees, bony prominences pressed against the marble floor — panting, blood and sweat clinging onto its cloak as if it was apart of it. When that bony finger touched the top of its head, another scream tore from the Attor’s throat, its body disintegrating into nothing but ash.

The air stilled, and the shadow faded away, leaving your figure in its wake. Time seemed to pause as they watch you tilt your head slightly before turning their direction. When your eyes — dark as the night sky, dark as black locked eyes with him before drifting to Eris’ by his side. You had given them a soft smile, eyes squinting into crescents their names nothing but a whisper against your lips before you body collapsed onto the floor.

Eris was the first one to come out of the stupor, his body immediately running towards yours. He skidded onto his knees as he heaved your body into his arms, a hand against your cheek to try to wake you up. Rhysand was hot on his heels, kneeling on the other side of your figure, sharp talons against you mind, trying to probe through the darkness that had shrouded your mind.

That is where it landed you now. The Inner Court at the Townhouse, your body still in Eris’ arms as both High Lords tried to interrogate the ancient being to tell why you had not woken up. Armen did not tell them anything, her stubbornness tenfold when it came to you; but it was hesitant now, knowing that the males that held you would stop at anything to ensure your safety.

A heartbeat of silence surrounded the room before Armen sighed.

“I pray the Mother would forgive me…” she muttered before she steeled herself against the stares of her family, “(Y/N)… is a God Made into a High Fae. When I had escaped the Prison, she was standing outside, an empty shell. I didn’t know what kind of God she was but she was lost as I and, that, immediately made us stick to each other. I had adapted faster to this world that she did, and so I kept her hidden while I became part of this world — part of your Court. I looked, looked into books, looked into the past, talked with the Gods of Old in the Prison to find out what she was…”

Eyes looked from Rhysand and Eris, to your form that was resting soundly in their arms.

“… She is Death itself. Death reincarnate. The Bone Carver, the Attor, the Suriel all made in her likeness… or what she used to be. The reason why she couldn’t… assimilate easily as I do was because she was never even part of this world originally. And so when that bond snapped between the three of you, I was surprised.”

Rhysand and Eris glanced at each other, remembering that moment when it was revealed to Armen that they were your mates. The surprise and hesitance in her features — it all made sense. You were a God and they were Cauldron-bound to you. You were as old, even older than Prythian itself. And yet you were mated to the two of them.

Armen shrugged, another sigh escaped her lips. Varian wrapped an arm around her shoulders, comforting her, “She was like a child, lost in this world. She didn’t know of her powers, it sometimes leaked out of her… You all have seen it.”

And they have, the flittering of shadows and darkness. Everyone had thought originally it was from Azriel — lights flickering when you were angry, shadows and night seeped out of your fingertips when you were training with Cassian. And all unknown to you.

“She has been trying to figure out herself, figure out her powers… She doesn’t know how to use it to her full conscious. Both of us have tried to rein in her powers, make it fully under her control.”

“… So what happened earlier?” Azriel questioned from his position in the corner of the room, his tone tight, “That thing that she had summoned that disintegrated the Attor.” The shadowsinger wasn’t mad, he was more frustrated than anything — they were your family, and yet you hid this part of you from them.

Another shrug from Armen, “I’ve tried to read… read anything concerning her. That thing I am unsure of. All I could think of —”

“The Grim…”

Eyes snapped towards your form, Eris and Rhysand looked down at you as you started to awaken. Apparently, you knew what they were talking about.

“It’s called the Grim…” you opened your eyes, your eye color back to normal — not the black color they had seen after the battle, but your own, ‘…A servant of Death itself.”

“(Y/N), Darling…” Rhysand breathed, as he kneeled in front of you as Eris shifted your form in his arms so that Rhysand could hold your cheeks, assessing you, ensuring you were unharmed. While Eris pressed his lips against the crown of your head, muttering, “Thank the Mother…”

A small smile tugged at your lips, feeling the bond tugged at both ends from your mates, eyes fluttering close as you let a wave of assurance down the bond. It had taken awhile for you to get used to using it to give comfort to both males, and longer for you to accept any sort of feeling from their end.

Once hands were off of you, Eris helped you to sit on the couch, large hands from both of your mates steadying you as you looked back at Armen. Your eyes staring into her silver ones, unvoiced betrayal in your look — Armen had promised to never let anyone know of what you were — and yet here she was, exposing your history. She let out a whimper, her way of apologizing to you before Varian wrapped her in his arms.

Silence again filled the room before the shuffling of feet. You had assumed that Rhysand had asked for everyone to leave, leaving you with your two mates. You took a breath, in and out, trying to rein in whatever you were feeling at the moment — you didn’t know what to feel.

Sure, you were exhausted, the fight with the Attor depleted your magic. You had not only protected yourself but the whole of Velaris with your magic. That you could deal with, but not this raw emotion of betrayal from your friend. Deep down, you knew that Armen only did what was necessary, to ease the tension in the room — to try to explain what had happened with you and the Attor hours before — to prove that you belonged there with them. That you were not a threat, that you were not an enemy to the Night Court. You knew that. You would talk to Armen properly later.

No matter how many centuries had passed, you were still figuring out your powers… still figuring out yourself. Today was another thing you’d have to figure out… and you wondered if, now, you have to figure it out yourself.

A tug at the golden string in your chest made you look up, staring at the violet hues of the third of your mate. Rhysand had looked at you were such worry, brows furrowed as he assessed you, a caress of your mental shields from his end. Another tug at that string made you look up at Eris, a similar look of worry sat on his face. You took another breath, one that shuddered through your figure before you reached out, both hands extended, to your mates only to pause in midair.

They were tainted with black, as if your fingertips were necrotized, as if the darkness lingered on you. A frown tugged on your lips, as you assessed them, retracting them slightly as if afraid to touch your mates with such hands. Hands were immediately on your wrist, your right in Rhysand’s and your left in Eris’, as you watched both of them press your hands against their chest, showing that you weren’t going to hurt them.

“…I’m sorry…” you slowly apologized, not even sure of what you were apologizing about. Was it the fact that you withheld your past from them? Or was it just the need to apologize to them.

You heard twin sighs before you felt identical kisses on the top of your head and that alone wrecked your body into another strong shudder, tears lining your eyes. You didn’t want to not tell them about you, you just… you couldn’t. You didn’t even know what you were, you didn’t know the extent of your powers.

“Is that the reason why you never told us? Even after the bond made itself known?” Rhysand asked, as he pulled away to look at you with a raised brow, “That you were Death? That you didn’t know yourself nor your powers?”

All you could do was nod your head, teeth biting into lower lip, as if you were a child being reprimanded, “… I was trying to figure it out,” you started off, fingers bunching at both of their shirts, to try to ground yourself to at the moment, eyes dimming for a moment before returning to the now, “Trying to figure myself out, my powers, to fit into this world. I just felt so…” a shrug lifted your shoulders, “I’m sure Armen told you… I felt lost, out of control. Like I was not here and here at the same time. That my powers had a mind of their own, controlling themselves through me. I just… didn’t know what I was doing.”

Eris and Rhysand always had seen it, how spaced out you were at times. Even with the bond between the three of you, your bond seemed frazzled, and much longer than the one that had connected the two males. They had worked so hard to get to you, to have you be in the moment with them, to be connected to you. And it wasn’t as if you weren’t doing the same, you worked with them… got used to being part of the Court, to be part of something much bigger than yourself — to be part of them. You had opened up to them, slowly but surely. You accepted the bond with much courting from both of the High Lords — many dates, many stolen kisses, many whispers during the night.

But hearing you, sound more vulnerable than you’ve ever been before, even during those moments at night when both Eris and Rhysand had expressed their darkest fears, their worries to you, they had never seen you more powerless.

Fingers slipped from their grip on their shirts, as you brought them back closer to your body, wringing your fingertips as if an attempt to wash off the stained darkness that lingered on your skin, “I also… didn’t want to scare either of you…” you confessed, almost a whisper, “The bond was formed and you two were almost fighting tooth and nail at each other at times —” a chuckle from both of the males made a small smile tug onto your features, “ — All the while ensuring that this bond was going to work. You guys set a lot of your differences aside to…” tears eventually overflowed, “Make sure that I was okay. And yet…”

You felt choked up. They had worked so hard in this bond, and yet… you didn’t even tell them — about who and what you were, you held the truth from them. Insecurities started to build up in you — that you were not meant for this bond, you didn’t deserve to be part of the Night Court… or any other court in that matter… that you weren’t meant to have such amazing mates — High Lords in the matter of a fact.

Your insecurites zip lined through the bond and it smashed towards Rhysand and Eris, and they couldn't help but tear up as well. Eris gently picked you up and back into his lap, strong, secure arms wrapping around your body, letting the bond open wide to provide you comfort and show how much he had loved you. Rhysand mimicked that, showering you with love and attention; reaching out to hold your hands in his.

“Oh sweetheart…” Eris hummed into your hair, pressing kisses on the top of your head, “… You should never be sorry about anything… It had been hard to understand from our side. We wondered on why you withheld such an important piece of yourself away from us; we had thought it was because you never trusted us fully —”

You were about retort up at him, only to have Eris press a kiss on your lips to silence you. He hummed before pulling back to gaze at you.

“— But, now we understand, and we're not going to reprimand you for it. Just know that we love you and, gosh…” a laugh escaped his chest, causing you to blink up at him in surprised, “You would never scare us away, (Y/N)… Not before finding out what you are, and not now, after finding out your Death reincarnate…”

“And…” you heard Rhysand shuffle into his feet before flopping down next to the both of you, taking your form from Eris’ lap and onto his own. Your two mates situated themselves — you on Rhysand’s lap, while your legs laid on Eris’ thighs.

“The thing with your powers… we can figure them out together. We can go to Day Court, ask Helion if they have any books about you and your powers…” he hummed softly, tilting your head up to press a kiss on your lips, “And even if we don't… All three of us will figure it out together..”

You smiled against his lips, nodding your head.

Eris reached over and gently held your chin to tug your lips towards his way, placing his own kiss.

“Can you imagine, Rhys…” The Autumn Heir murmured against your lips, “That our mate is in history books? Her name written for everyone to remember?” He teased, another kiss on your lips.

Rhysand let out a hearty laugh, “Well… she is amazing…”

A soft laugh escaped you as you pulled away from Eris’ lips, one arm wrapped around his shoulder and the other holding Rhysand’s hand that was around your waist.

“Well…” you whispered as you looked at both of them, their eyes shining as they looked at you, “Your names will be right beside mine then… We’ll ask Helion to fix those books…”

Chuckles escaped all three of you, as you remained in their arms, as you basked in the love and care of your two mates.

Even though you are uncertain about the future, the prospect of navigating your powers, you know at least your family and your mates were there to help you every step of the way.

[picnokinesis]

flux adjacent fic recs

in media res by wreckageofstars (3k, 1 chapter, gen) summary: “Well,” she said. “Now you know what the mattress is for.” Dan shifted. “And the trampoline?” “Best not ask about the trampoline.” //I think this is probably the first Dan pov fic I ever read, and it’s absolutely brilliant. This author gets the character voices down so perfectly it’s unreal, and the whole thing is just so wonderful to see from Dan’s outsider perspective. It’s set in the immediate aftermath of Once, Upon Time, and it does a fantastic job of exploring the impact of what happened in that episode – both from a whump perspective and an emotional one. Angsty, but also funny in the worst kind of way – someone please go give Yaz a break, she REALLY needs one. Anyway, it’s great, everyone go read it right now.

Hearts of Stone by weirdpug (previously xhonia) (1k, 1 chapter, thoschei) summary: The Doctor loses herself. The Master finds her. //Ohhh this one this one, it’s SO awesome – it’s one of those fics that does really cool things with the formatting? Which works great here, because it’s a weeping angel!13 fic and wow, wow! Extremely awesome indeed, and just beautifully written – the prose is just so full of character, even when the Doctor is losing herself and it’s so well done.

Divination by WalkerLister (6k, 1 chapter, gen) summary: “There was a name for someone similar to me once. They called them the Valeyard. You can call me that, if you like. I quite like it, it’s suitably eerie. Little bit of drama never hurt anyone.” //Right, so we all remember what happened when War of the Sontarans aired…we got that ‘next time’ trailer of Once Upon Time…and all collectively lost our minds over the inverted dark coat. Since then, I feel like everyone has been finding really creative ways to get it into fanfics, and this is a wonderful example. And, well, if the promise of dark coat!13 wasn’t enough, this fic is just an absolutely fascinating look at the concept of the Valeyard in the context of the fobwatch from Flux, but focused on Yaz and her relationship with/perception of the Doctor. It’s such a good concept and so so wonderfully done! (also, if you’re a fan of thasmin, this author has a ton of stuff, so definitely go check it all out! For the less thasmin-inclined folks, I highly recommend Ipesity, which is one of my favourite post-TTC fics)

three points where two lines meet by Ymae (4k, 1 chapter, gen) summary: The Doctor tries to get those memories back, and breaks herself, bit by bit. //Oh man. This fic. I still remember when this one first posted and hoooooo boy, it is a hell of a gut-punch and absolutely wrenched my heart right out of my chest but HHHHHHHHH wow!! WOW. Genuinely, I think this fic rewrote my brain a little bit. It's set in the immediate aftermath of Once, Upon Time where the Doctor makes some very unwise decisions about trying to tug at her timeline and it's absolutely incredible. Very angsty, very whumpy, and full of a HUGE amount of the Doctor messing with timelines and very visceral, tangible descriptions of her timesense. It is such a treat, guys. And if you like this one and want something with similar vibes, I also highly recommend this post-flux fic by the same author!

Sheer Poetry! by Papapaldi (57k, 5 chapters, gen) summary: Trapped within her own mind, the Doctor travels through an impossible house, with everyone she has ever been locked inside. Her body is an unresponsive, useless bag of flesh somewhere far and away in reality. The part of her brain that she knows, where her past resides, sits somewhere else entirely within the old machine. The Ravagers eat, buried memories beckon, and the Doctor's faith is shaken to its core. She will never be the same – but that's what she's all about, right? Incredible change. //oh my days. THIS FIC, guys - look, I see the word count, I know, I know. This fic is a serious undertaking, but like so many things in life it is soooooo so worth it. Bucket loads of absolutely ASTOUNDING imagery, more references to Lungbarrow and Timewyrm Revelation than you can shake a stick at, BUT you don't need to have read those stories at all to enjoy this absolutely fantastic saga (put it like this - I've not read those books, and I had a whale of a time). Incredibly poetic, a little nonsensical in the best kind of way (it IS a mindscape fic) but startlingly funny and so beautifully in character. I laughed, I cried. This fic is just a love letter to everything Doctor Who, weaving all of canon into this beautiful, cohesive tapestry. I highly recommend. (and, if you're hungry for more and want tpotd content, there's an excellent sequel as well)

every step i choose to take (begins to set the world aflame) by SleepyMaddy (12k, 1 chapter, thoschei) summary: In a spaceport lost in a remote quadrant of interstellar space, a Doctor who doesn’t know herself anymore runs into a Master who doesn’t know himself yet // Ok so the sheer concept of this one ALONE is absolutely brilliant – the Doctor, escaping from the Division and half out of her head, bumps into the Master, who’s not long regenerated from Missy. And, guys. It’s fascinating. Seeing the Master right at the start, before he finds out everything that comes to define him in this era, and then having him meet a version of the Doctor who is quite a lot further along than him and just completely out of it? It’s like catnip to me, guys. And, of course, it’s all helped by the fact that the writing is absolutely brilliant – the characters are just absolutely spot on, which is quite an incredible feat seeing as they are both in very different places to where we see them in the show, yet they still manage to ring true throughout the whole thing. And also the mindscape imagery? The psychic whump? The emotional gut-punch that is the entire fic? Absolutely unparalleled. (also, if you’re a spydoc fan? Just help yourself out and read this author’s entire set of works, because it’s all fantastic)

see me bare my teeth for you by picnokinesis (16k, 1 chapter, gen) summary: “Do you know your mission?” //This is a bit of a cheeky self-rec, but, in my defence, if you're looking for flux fics, then I think you'll enjoy this one. I wrote it in the week after Village of the Angels aired, and it's basically all my thoughts and theories about what was going to happen in Survivors of the Flux thrown into a 16k oneshot. I was...mostly wrong HAHA but I’m still really proud of it. If you like division!doctor, then this one is for you

we're only dreaming (tell me who i am) by SpaceBetweenGalaxies (2k, 1 chapter, gen) summary: more the-memory-house-is-Lungbarrow clowning //ok, so if you were like me when flux was airing and absolutely lost your MIND over the illogical house which was a bit too on the nose regarding Lungbarrow related things, then THIS FIC IS FOR YOU. Absolutely brilliantly done, with some gorgeous imagery that I'm still thinking about to this day, and just a wonderfully unsettling exploration of the Doctor and how she picks at those cut off memories in the aftermath of the Flux

the stars are bound to change by emptypockets (9k, 1 chapter, gen) summary: Being trisected across the universe has unexpected consequences for the Doctor, and Yaz is tasked with the responsibility of keeping her awake. //ohhhhhh this fic is so wonderful!! It's that weird sweet spot of 'soft angst', where it hits where it hurts but at the same time the whole thing feels like it's wrapping you in a warm blanket. Augh!! Such a lovely portrayal of the Doctor and Yaz's dynamic - I adore how this author writes these two so much. An absolutely lovely (but angsty!) character exploration, with a healthy dose of whump and sleepiness on the side. What more could you want?

Everything by rowanthestrange (24k, 13 chapters, thasmin) summary: In which Yaz wants to know everything, and the Doctor finally wants that too. //Ok, so full disclosure, I don't read that much thasmin, but this fic, guys. It's just gorgeous. A beautifully written exploration of Yaz and her relationship with the Doctor in the aftermath of Flux, which explores the years Yaz spent in the past and how that changed her; the Doctor grappling with her identity issues and how that's changed her; as well as all sorts of other wonderful things besides. Another fic that had tears streaming down my face (the TARDIS chapter got me...). It's such a poignant, emotional fic, and it's very focused on character in a way that I really adore. If you like thasmin, this is an absolute must-read. If you're not a fan of thasmin, I recommend it anyway (- signed: a thoschei shipper) because it's just such a brilliant portrayal of these two.

[eeunoia]

ENHYPEN Series

sinag | psh.

chapter eight

pairings: park sunghoon x reader

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

word count: 3k

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

note: the next update will probably at tuesday. thank you so much for supporting sinag. please reply, reblog and send me asks. i will surely appreciate it, i love you. stay safe!

eeunoia 2024 © all rights reserved.

Some years later...

Time passes by faster than expected. A lot of things happened. You grew at some aspect of your life, learned some new things, gain new friends, acquired new achievements and seems like your life’s really is at its best. Like this is where you should be.

But why do you feel empty sometimes? Not all the time. Just those moments where you’re left alone to meditate or think some things in your life. It was odd, but you just convince yourself that its normal for people to have these thoughts from time to time.

“Ae, your boyfriend called you multiple times last night.” your head snapped at Lucie’s side when she said that. She’s at the kitchen counter, cooking something while you head towards the center table to go find your phone.

“I was so busy finishing my work last night. I forgot my phone was here.” you stated and sighs heavily after finding indeed multiple missed calls and messages from your boyfriend. From Luke.

Yes, you got back together with him. You two met a year after you just got your job and he seems doing fine. He seems to be more matured than how your remembered him and he wanted to try it again with you. Claiming that you two are just immatures back then and surely this time it would work.

Since you haven’t got anyone to date that time and you really kind of missed having someone by your side romantically, you agreed.

You love Luke. Otherwise you wouldn’t agree to be in a relationship with him again. It’s just the spark’s not there and the feelings you have for him is shallow. Of course you never told him that and just go with the flow with him.

Lucie reminded you that breakfast will be ready soon which you responded with a short nod then walks towards the balcony.

“Babe.”

“What the hell, Aelia? I’ve been calling and texting you nonstop last night and I’m only hearing from you now? Wow!” he sounded mad. Mad and upset about you not returning his calls.

You sighs and massage your temple, trying to release the early stress life is trying to give you. The day hasn’t even starting yet and he wants to fight with you already. What a great thing to start your day with after an working all night.

“I’m sorry, Luke. Its just I got caught up with the work last night. I forgot that I left my phone at the living room after I texted you.” the last text you sent him says that you are going to be busy that night. Clearly, despite being informed he doesn’t understand it at all.

“Whatever! That’s the onlyt thing that matters to you, anyway. That stupid job of yours.” here he goes again. Whenever you two falls into an argument, he never misses the chance to use this card on you. He’s very petty about it.

“You know that’s not true.”

“Its seems like it for me.” and with that he ended the call.

You draws in a strained sigh before running your hand over your hair. The sun kissed your skin as it shines bright above you. The streets are starting to look more alive with people walking and cars driving towards their own destinations.

“Breakfast is ready, Ae!” your head snaps over to Lucie when she called out for you.

Realizing that it won’t be too good for you to stress over your boyfriend in early morning, you struts towards the kitchen to have breakfast. She already got everything prepared making you smile and put into more better mood.

“Early fight?” she guessed that you answered with a small nod.

She sighs and watches you sat down. She fill the empty glass with some orange juice then slid it towards you. She makes sure you drink fruits in the morning and not coffee since while you’re in the office, she’s certain it will be nonstop caffeine consumption.

“Come on and just eat breakfast. Think about your asshole boyfriend later.” she sounded bitter. You are aware of her disliking towards Luke. She said he just gives off negative vibes for her even after meeting him at the first time.

She’s good with reading people and her impressions are usually right.

“Language, please.” and you flash her with a smirk.

She chuckles and just dismissed that topic. The two of you chitchats about this event being held on weekend. She informed you about it weeks ago and was begging for you to come with her. You already declined, saying you’re really bad with crowded places. She knows that. Being friends with Lucie for years already gained her alot of informations about you. Including your phobia of being around too crowded places.

That’s why she’s even more pursuing you to come, convincing you after she read about this article that there’s nothing more effective to get rid of fears other than facing them. Sounds ironic, but she’s truly sticking into it.

“I’ll think about it, okay? First, I have to worry about my meeting later.” and instantly, you felt your heart raced.

“Is that today?” she looked surprised and even took a quick sip from her juice. “Are you going to meet Jake Sim later?” the excitement through her voice are unable to be covered.

“Yes.”

She squealed. “Ahhh! He’s so gorgeous. How can someone be that handsome? And why isn’t he mine?” she sounds like that’s her biggest struggle in life.

It’s been a while since you started to work in that company, and its been a while too ever since she started crushing on your boss. She kept on saying how she wished she works there and that she might have shoot her shot at flirting with him.

You always just laughs at her and shook your head because of her crazy ideas. Well, there is no doubt that the man looks dazzling. His visuals sure is something you would compare to celebrities that appears on television, even better. But he isn’t totally your type. For you, he’s just someone you would love to stare at.

“You’re crazy.” and shook your head after side eyeing her jokingly. she seems unbothered about it and kept on daydreaming, hearts flashing her eyes. it was hilarious even for you.

“You should wear that dress!” her eyes are big while she’s giving you that look.

Your brows narrowed down, wondering what she was talking about and when you realized, you’re quick to refuse.

“No way!”

“Come on! You look so hot wearing that one!” she whined like a baby.

You gave her a firm ‘no’, “I don’t want to go to a serious meeting having almost all of my tits showing at him.” the idea itself makes you shiver in so much cringe.

She laughed so hard while watching you.

“I bet he’ll be distracted.” she smirks.

You gave her a disgusted look on your face.

“Enough! I don’t want to hear about it and besides, I have a boyfriend.” and you finished the last bite of the food before putting it on the sink.

She scoffed, “Ah, right. Your Class A, boyfriend.”

“Class A?” you asked, confused.

She smiled sweetly, “Yes, Class A. Class Asshole.”

You laughed at what she said and she did too, proud of what she just said. The two of you then went on your own rooms to start preparing for work.

After you finished getting ready, you bid her good bye and left. When you arrived at the company, it was obvious how they’re cleaning every inch of it. The workplace is neat all the time, yes. But they’re paying attention into keen details. A clear sign that the boss is arriving.

He doesn’t visit often so they always make sure that the company is perfect whenever he does.

“Ae!” Clara greets delightedly as you walk inside your floor. Heads whips to see you strides along the office hallway. Eyes of boy workmates remained while the other just smoothly went back to their works.

She gave you a small hug, “Are you ready for the report later?” she looked tensed and excited at the same time.

You nodded your head and rests your bag over the swivel chair. She follows inside your office and sat at the visitor chair in front of your table.

“I still can’t believe how you’re not thrilled to report in front of Mr. Sim. How come your knees doesn’t go weak whenever his eyes sets at you?” she asks, exaggerating.

You chuckled and shook your head. She’s just like Lucie, they’re both head over heels Mr. Sim.

Soon after, you are informed that the boss will be arriving soon together with one of its good friend, Mr. Nishimura. It’s not the first time you’ve seen his snobby handsome face. He often visits here with the boss, Mr. Jake Sim. It was obvious that they’re very close with each other.

Mr. Sim is not that friendly, but you can sense that he’s a little friendlier towards you. At first, you find it odd and suspicious, but he never did something that made you uncomfy so the thought eventually dismissed.

Mr. Nishimura on the other hand is a lot goofier, but he’s moody. Sometimes he smiles and greets you, but there are times he seemed so cold and distant. Almost makes you think that there’s two of them.

Suited men enters the floor to where the conference room was located, and just by then you stood up because the boss will show up anytime soon. The head of your department, together with you and Clara stood silently.

“Why does Mr. Sim needs to have so many bodyguards?” she asks, talking loudly of your own thoughts.

You used to wonder about that one as well. Yes, you completely understand that he’s very much wealthy and that he needed security, but its just oddly exaggerated. To the point that it doesn’t feel right. Like something’s behind it.

“Did you know there's a rumor that Mr. Sim is from the family of Mafia? Some says he’s that guy! Sim Jaeyun!” Clara added, mentioning a name that is almost feel forbidden to say because it feels like something bad will happen to you if you did.

“Ehh...” your words stall as you try to imagine Jake holding guns and doing some dangerous stuff. Yes it would definitely look cool, but nah.

“Come on? There’s no way, Clara. Besides, isn’t Mr. Jake Sim originally from Australia?”

She pursed her lips and sighed, “You’re right. Maybe it really is just a coincidence.”

She stops talking when the guy you are just talking about enters. Beside him was Mr. Nishimura, smirking.

Everyone politely bows in his arrival and he did a small bow as well, roaming his eyes around his employees like as if searching for somebody. When it met yours, you once again bowed at him. He nods his head and smiles.

“Let’s go inside, shall we?” and with that all of you enters, proceeding to your meeting.

“Are you sure you aren’t developing some kind of feelings, hyung?” Ni-ki asked with suspicion and judgement through his eyes.

The meeting just ended and after everyone was dismissed, Jake started rummaging over your information and stared at it for an hour already.

Jake rolls his eyes and sighs, before undoing his necktie. “Stop talking nonsense, Ni-ki. I’m not planning to receive Sunghoon’s wrath.” he mumbled with a monotone.

Ni-ki shrugged his shoulders off and just mindlessly stared at the papers on the table. It’s been a while since they started this babysitter thing with you. Even if they’re making sure you are safe and you’re living comfortably, the two of them kept their distance. Making sure they aren’t totally becoming suspicious to avoid any problems.

He heard Sunghoon’s recent achievement was a blow because he managed to get one of the Kwon’s biggest source of income. He strived hard for the past year and now the engagement was announced to be officially off. Although, he wasn’t really going to do it in any circumstances.

“What’s so interesting about Aelia’s files, hyung? We already know everything that’s in there. Can we just go somewhere fun? Like visit Jay hyung and piss him off?” he sounded so bored already.

Jake sighs, “I’m checking her schedule and her latest appointment results from her therapists. I think she can go to an out of the country trip now.” he says.

Ni-ki almost fell from his chair after he heard what his hyung said. Is he thinking what he thinks he’s talking about? After waiting for so long, is it really happening already?

“Are you planning to make them meet?!” he sounded more than excited and Jake couldn’t even blame him.

He himself feels so thrilled of how its going to be after Sunghoon managed to find you.

“Don’t get too excited, Ni-ki. You’ll spoil the moment.” he kids that was ignored by the younger one.

“Can we be there when it happens?!”

Jake gave him this weird look, like as if he thinks he’s losing his mind. Ni-ki remains smiling, hopeful that his hyung will agree.

“Why would you want to be there, you creep? Let them have their moment.” and even threw a crumpled paper over Ni-ki.

He snorts, “I am their moment.” he jokes.

“Sunghoon will choke you.”

“Damn, tell him to save it for Aelia instead.”

Jake looked at him with disgust, “You should just go home.”

Ni-ki laughed so loud because of it before fishing his phone from his pocket. “No fucking thanks. I’ll stay here with you. Do you want to order food? I want some sushi.”

Jake just sighs and started typing a message. Sunghoon deserves a reward after-all. It’s time for them to meet already. He could not help but to look forward for that moment to happen. First, he needs to make sure you’re ready to try and go out of the country again.

Your eyes lifts from the monitor towards Clara who just knocked and peak her head to see you.

“Ms. Nam said she needs to see you at her office.” she announced and you just gave her a short nod.

“I’ll be right there.”

After saving your work, you stood up and head towards the office of the head of your department. Everyone’s pretty busy with their own work. Even if a little confused as to why she randomy calls for you, you shrugged it off.

You knocked twice and waited for her to let you in. A bright smile is what greets you. It made you feel relieved.

“You call for me, Miss?”

“Yes! I need to talk to you about something.”

You nodded and sat down at the chair in front of her table. She kept her gaze at you, like checking of signs to say what she’s about to say.

“I want you to attend the seminar next week.”

You were surprised for a while, “B-But is it the one that will be held outside of the country?” your tone sounded so worried.

She nods, “Yes, my schedule got mixed up and I have to be somewhere important that week. I need someone reliable to be present on that seminar and that person is you.”

You are silent, unable to say anything. All you can think of is how will you do that or if you’ll be fine about it. Only bad things happens whenever you go out of the country, so you’re starting to decline any possible chance to go.

“B-But Miss—”

“I’m not taking a no for an answer, Ae.” she states in a strict tone.

Your lips pursed into a thin line and fingers fidgets while your hand rests on top of your thighs. You feel anxious, scared and worried.

“I know what you’ve been through before and I really feel bad for you. But there are things that we need to face sooner or later, our fears included.”

She’s right anyway. Just like what Lucie always tells you, there’s no better way to get rid of that fear other than facing them.

Without thinking twice, you nodded your head. And that was it. No more backing out this time. You’ll really go out of the country again. Hopefully this trip will be better than your past experiences. If not, then you’ll probably just rot in your country.

On the other hand, Icarus, Sunghoon’s right hand knocks over his boss' office late at night. He heard him telling him to come in so he opened the door.

“Sir, we have new updates about the girl.”

Sunghoon’s hand halts from signing one of the proposals he was holding. His eyes bore at the paper, thoughts slowly getting blank.

Here goes again that familiar feeling. Hope.

How many times did that emotion lights fire inside him and kills it afterwards? How many times did he felt so frustrated and disappointed whenever he fails to find you? How many times did he lose his mind and went crazy out of anger because you were not there?

It was awful and devastating. It was tiring and draining.

But here he is again, hoping that this time he will find you. He will never stop until you are in his arms. He will never let anyone stop him. He will find you. He doesn’t care how broken or ruined he is after failing over and over again, because he knew it’ll be worth it once he find you.

He stood up without hesitation and grabbed his coat. “Get my private plane ready.”

main master-list

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[ladelinee]

Authors note: Wow, I had so much fun writing this part! I'm excited for you to read part 7 and see why. I know things are taking a wild turn, but I hope you enjoy it! ❤️

Word count: 3K

Warnings: +18, fluff, pills, 🩸, angst.

All shook up

Part 6

I slowly opened my eyes to a ray of sunshine that was tickling my face. As I tried to focus, I felt like my head was spinning and my vision was blurry. My mouth was dry, and my head was pounding. Despite the discomfort, I couldn't help but marvel at the luxurious furniture around me. The view from high above was breathtaking, and the room was infused with the unmistakable essence of Elvis.

How did I end up here? I couldn't recall anything from last night, except for our little mishap under the table.

"Sleep well, honey?" Elvis whispered in his deep, sweet voice, catching me off guard but instantly making me feel safe.

Struggling to open my eyes against the intrusive sunlight, I felt its rays disturbing my senses. Elvis noticed and his soft laugh reached my ears, adding a touch of warmth to the moment.

“I see that my baby's got herself a bit of a hangover this morning, ain't she?” Elvis chuckled, finding my hangover state hilarious.

"Was the champagne a bit too much for ya?" He pulled me closer to his chest and held me tightly, gently rubbing my back to comfort me.

Finally, I was able to open my eyes again, my gaze drawn to his tanned bare chest. Leading up to his perfectly shaved neck. I could barely make out the slow churning of his pulse in one of his arteries. His piercing blue eyes, tinged with a hint of black in their surrounding, were locked firmly onto me. His messy yet lovely hair was the perfect frame for his lips, which curved into a smirk baring just a glimpse of his perfection.

It took me a few seconds to process his words. “Oh Elvis, I’m going to kill you!” I whined, pulling the blanket over myself for cover. The reason for my sorry state? Elvis had insisted on me drinking last night, and now I was paying the price.

Elvis burst out laughing at my reaction. He gently pulled the blanket and hid with me underneath, keeping me company.

He chuckled and teased me, "Oh, am I in trouble?" He continued to draw closer, showering my face with kisses and making my hangover a little more bearable.

I smiled at his goofiness. "It's just... my head is spinning" I replied as Elvis deliberately peppered my face with kisses. The more I smiled, the more he showered me with affection.

"Well, ain't you just the cutest thing when you're all grumpy and hungover, darlin'? I'll fetch ya some water and painkillers, alright?” He kissed me tightly on the lips before gently moving the blanket and getting up to bring the pills.

A few seconds later, Elvis returned, clad in nothing but boxers, carrying a glass of water, painkillers, and a hefty tray of eggs, bacon, and toast. Placing the tray on the bedside table, he handed me the glass of water and the pills.

Sitting down beside me, he grinned and said, "Open wide, baby, and drink the water, alright?" He then proceeded to feed me the pills one by one. “There you go, this will make you feel better”

Leaning forward on the bed, I opened my mouth and took the pills. But when I noticed the breakfast, panic set in. "Oh no... Elvis, the breakfast. Has in-room dining been here?"

Elvis chuckled, understanding my unnecessary concern. "Darlin’, there's this thing called 'do not disturb'. C’mon baby, let's eat" he said with a smirk.

"God, you are right," I sighed relieved, still groggy from sleep. I grabbed a strip of bacon and began to chew it slowly, my mind gradually coming alive. Glancing at the plate, I realized there was far too much food —We wouldn't be able to finish it all, even if it were meant for two.

Elvis watched me with a grin, amused by the look of wonderment on my face as I chowed down. Leaning in close, he drawled, "Well now, darlin', I reckon I could scarf down all this food and still save some room for dessert."

His unexpected words caused me to almost choke and my cheeks to flush. Elvis laughed and gently patted my back to soothe me.

Elvis playfully snagged a piece of bacon from my mouth, munching on it before remarking, "Mm, the bacon tastes even better in your mouth," while he wiped bits of bacon from my lips with a napkin.

Then, with a playful grin, he added, "Ya know I could help ya with that little messy problem of yours, right?" His eyes twinkled with amusement.

As I stood there, I felt my cheeks turn red with embarrassment. I was completely speechless, so I quickly grabbed a piece of toast to distract myself.

Elvis ran his fingers along my thigh as he spoke in a deep voice, "I still remember last night, ya know..."

“What happened last night? I can barely remember anything. How did I end up here? Did anyone notice?” I asked as I was starting to get worried.

"Well, after a mighty fine encounter with a tiger while I was playin' poker, ya know," Elvis chuckled as he cut some of the hard-fried eggs on the plate with the side of a fork.

"I... I know," I answered, cutting him off straightaway as I blushed.

"The little tiger passed out. So I got a tad bit panicked. Had to tell Joe to figure out how to get you outta there without raisin' any eyebrows. It's mighty easy when you got the right fellas who're used to sneakin' you outta the buildin' after every show..." he paused, taking a bite of his food.

"...So we worked a bit of magic—turned off the lights, and after turnin' them on, I started singin' and spillin' some of my secrets, and meanwhile, Joe and Red whisked you away straight to here. And then I came to look after ya." Elvis finished the sentence looking at me with his cheeks full of food.

“Wow, nice strategy. Now I’m just embarrassed that Joe eventually had to know I was under the table” I replied.

“Don’t ya worry, honey. And I ain’t forgettin’ to get my revenge for you bein’ such a naughty little girl last night,” Elvis said, looking at me, savoring his words as he spoke, while giving me a playful wink.

I opened my eyes wide and took a deep gulp. Having sex with Elvis just once felt like a drug to me, even though our encounter that day was brief. I can't even imagine what it would be like if we had all night for this.

Elvis, enjoying seeing me squirm, leaned in close and drawled, "Not right now anyway, darlin'. I wanna make sure you're fine and rested.” Then, he leaned in even closer and gently pulled my hair back behind my ears.“But rest assured, miss, you'll pay for your sins."

At that moment, I bit my lip, consumed by a strong desire for Elvis. Gently, I ran my hand along the side of his face and engaged in a passionate kiss. As I pulled away, I observed Elvis inhaling sharply with his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted. “I’m off today and tomorrow. I have no work commitments,” I whispered, still holding his face. Elvis exhaled and opened his eyes and responded with a wide smile.

After a moment he took my hand and said “Well now, this might come off a mite formal-like, but how ‘bout you and I go on a date? Jus’ the two of us,” he said while kissing my hand with every word “No fuss,- no muss. -No press, -no company, -nothin’ but us, -relishin’ each other’s company” With a playful tone and a hint of baby talk, he looked back at me and sweetly murmured "Pwease?"

"Our first date... absolutely!" I exclaimed, hugging Elvis tightly, so thrilled that all the toasts ended up tumbling to the floor.

Elvis burst into laughter, exclaiming, "Easy there, tiger!" as he squeezed me even tighter. "Yes, our first date. How about you head home, freshen up, and I'll swing by to pick you up around 8 pm?“

Filled with excitement, I sprang out of bed, glanced at the time, and quickly got myself ready. My mind raced with thoughts of how to slip out of the hotel without attracting any attention.

Elvis set the food aside and grabbed the phone off the side table. “I’ll ring up Joe, he’ll swing by and give ya a lift home. But if ya ain’t too sure, darlin’, I can take ya out shoppin’, grab whatever ya fancy,”

I took a brief pause before reassuringly stating, "I can go alone, I'll manage just fine. I'll take the emergency stairs to the parking lot. Piece of cake."

As I headed towards the door, Elvis walked beside me, his hand resting lightly on my shoulder, offering silent support. With a soft, affectionate tone, he leaned in, his eyes conveying both care and concern. "Alright, darlin’," he said tenderly, "take care now, please. And remember, if ya don’t feel safe, come back here." He kissed me with tenderness and warmth, his lips slowly melting into mine.

Stepping cautiously into the hallway, I watched as Elvis closed the door behind me with deliberate slowness. My heart raced as I scanned the corridor, realizing there was only one stretch where I risked being spotted—a narrow "L" shaped path leading to the emergency staircase.

With a quick check for any passersby, I braced myself to sprint towards the stairwell. But just as I neared my escape route, I rounded the corner and came face to face with Colonel Tom Parker and Mark, my boss.

The Colonel's disapproving stare met my boss's astonished expression, and I knew trouble was brewing.

"What in tarnation are you doing here? Working extra hours on your day off?" Mark's hostile tone sliced through the air, adding to my mounting nerves.

Trying to steady my trembling hand, I managed to stammer, "Uh, yeah. Just tying up loose ends before taking some time off."

Mark's demand cut through the tension like a knife. "Tying up loose ends huh…I need you to come with me. Right now!"

Almost having a panic attack, I followed Mark, scared stiff, thinking we were heading to his office. But we ended up at my workspace, which shocked me. I feared they knew something was up and were about to fire me.

"Where were you last night? You vanished from the party," Mark demanded, his tone sharp and accusatory, drawing the attention of nearby employees who exchanged hushed whispers as they cast glances my way.

"I wasn't feeling well. I'm sorry," I responded nervously, my gaze darting around the room, acutely aware of the growing scrutiny from my colleagues.

As we approached my office, Mark called out, "Are you sorry? Well, check this out!"

My stomach churned as I saw police tape blocking the door. Inside, cops were everywhere, jotting notes and taking pictures.

As I inched closer, my eyes fell upon a housekeeping girl sprawled on the floor. She lay upside down, her hands clasped tightly, and a pool of blood seeping beneath her. The sight froze me in place, a wave of shock crashing over me. Instinctively, I brought a trembling hand to my mouth, stifling the urge to scream aloud as a surge of horror coursed through my veins.

Mark firmly took hold of my arm, leading me to a secluded corner.

“Please stay calm. Yes, she was murdered last night. The cops asked about your whereabouts last night. I informed them that you were working at the party, under my supervision. But I need to know the truth. Where the hell were you really last night?” He insisted.

Struggling to control my breathing, I began to hyperventilate. Between tearful sobs, I pleaded, “I… I don’t remember, Mark. I can only repeat what I’ve been told. But please, you have to believe me. I didn’t do it.”

Mark's demeanor shifted, his expression grave as he spoke, "I believe you're an exceptional professional, and I don't think you're capable of harming anyone. However, the young woman was shot, and it seems to have been done with Mr. Presley's gun, which was found in your office. The bullets match those recovered backstage on the day of the earthquake. They're conducting tests, but you're the primary suspect."

His words shattered me, and through tears, I confessed, "Mark, I was with Elvis last night. I stayed with him the whole time. I swear nothing happened. He was just taking care of me because I was really sick."

His demeanor turned serious as soon as I mentioned it. "You understand the implications of this, don't you? Go home. We'll discuss this when you return to work, assuming you're not arrested first. I need time to think and make a decision." He paused, disappointment evident in his voice. "I never imagined you'd let me down like this."

Feeling a mix of shock and anxiety, I struggled to hold myself together as I made my way towards the hotel exit. Just as I reached for the elevator door, Mark's voice pierced through the turmoil.

"Oh, and I recommend you to get a good lawyer," he advised, his words adding another layer of concern to an already overwhelming situation.

When I got home, I collapsed onto the bed, utterly unable to comprehend what was happening. It felt like my whole future had been destroyed overnight, and I hadn't even done anything wrong. But those gaps in my memory from last night were eating away at me—it could be crucial.

I couldn't shake the image of the girl on the floor of my office from my mind. The internal struggle was overwhelming, like my head was about to explode.

How could that gun end up in my office? Hasn't Elvis noticed it's missing? Or could it have been me who took it last night? There must be someone else who was working with that girl last night, but who?

As I pondered over these thoughts, the sudden ringing of the phone made my heart race. I feared they may have found something to incriminate me further.

I inhaled deeply, feeling the rush of air fill my lungs as I reached for the phone. With a steady hand, I lifted the receiver to my ear, eager to discover who was on the other end of the line.

“Hello?” My voice was a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

"It’s me, darlin’. Elvis." He said with a slightly husky voice.

“Oh Thank god, Elvis. Thank you for calling me, I… I am shattered,” I sobbed, my voice choked with tears, my hand trembling as I held the phone.

“Maybe this ain’t the right moment, but we gotta have a talk,” Elvis stated in a serious tone, his voice steady but with an underlying tension.

“If you want, we could meet up earlier than planned today. I really need you.” I suggested.

“No darlin’, I ain’t comin’ over. The Colonel spilled the beans on what went down.”

My heart stopped. Who knows what The Colonel had told him? “Elvis, please, you know me perfectly well! Last night, you told me that Joe and Red took me out from the party and brought me to your penthouse.”

“Oh, I know, but I reckon you mighta headed to your office after Joe and Red took ya back,” Elvis uttered, his tone uncertain, his breath audibly shaky on the line.

My body began to shake when I heard Elvis' words, "You told me I passed out! It's impossible."

“The truth is, I can’t risk hangin’ ‘round if there’s any chance you’re tangled up in this mess. And I’ll be the one dealin’ with the press as the girl was killed with my gun,” he said, straight to the point, cold as ice, his words echoing with finality.

“But… but…”

“Sorry, darlin’, but I think we need to end things. It’s just not safe for me to be with ya anymore.” Elvis continued.

“But… I thought I was important to you, you took care of me. What do I mean to you then?” I asked, my voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and disbelief.

“A one-night stand, I guess,” Elvis replied heartlessly, with every word I felt like he was stabbing me, his tone devoid of any warmth or emotion.

“I don’t believe you. It can’t be…” My breathing became heavy again and I felt pain in my heart, my words faltering as tears streamed down my face.

“Not to mention darlin’, you knew I was a married man this whole time anyway,” Elvis added, his voice laced with a hint of bitterness, his words a cruel reminder of the reality of our situation.

“Please don’t…” I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper, my heart breaking with each passing moment.

“Take care of yourself, honey. Please.” Elvis said without hesitation, his tone hollow and distant, his words devoid of any genuine concern or affection.

“Elvis, please don’t leave me.” I couldn’t believe what was happening; the phone itself was getting all damp due to my tears, my hands shaking uncontrollably as I clutched it desperately.

“And one last thing. Please, don’t contact me.”

Then, I heard the continuation of the line, which meant that he had abruptly ended the call. The silence stretched like a bottomless abyss, breaking my heart into limitless pieces.

“Bravo, amazing performance!” Angelica’s voice dripped with sarcasm as she began mockingly applauding while holding firmly a gun in her hand and pointing at Alex.

Alex, his hand trembling, kept it on the phone he had just hung up, his face drained of color. Forced to mimic Elvis to betray his closest friend, knowing it would shatter her heart and likely lead to her being fired or even imprisoned.

“You’ve won yourself two jackpots, dear. One, you get to keep your job. And two, you get to keep your life,” she announced with a twisted sense of satisfaction, her eyes gleaming with malice as she wielded the gun, her grip tightening with each word.

But just as the tension reached its peak, A sweet, melodic voice cut through the air, bringing with it an aura of authority and grace.

“You’ve done exceptionally well, Angelica. Thank you,” the voice interjected from behind Alex and Angelica. Angelica turned to see a figure standing there, her presence commanding yet calming. A satisfied smile curled Angelica's lips as she acknowledged the woman.

It was Priscilla Presley.

Need to recap? Part 5 here

Part 7!

[txtaetertots]

HOPELESSLY DEVOTED 68: prom

[ synopsis ] you’re trying to get into your dream school. beomgyu’s just trying to pass a class. the only way to ensure you both get what you want is to work together. very closely.

[ note ] i think this is the longest chapter i've written for this series omg its over 3k words aHH i hope you guys enjoy it <3

taglist (CLOSED): @heyanonymous123 @flrtsbin @anonella22 @chocorenchin @gyuszie @flowerbe0m @kaikamalover @n034sy @iactaid @suzirumas @pupkashi @choi-beomgyulvr @hearts4hanni @naveries @wccycc @wonioml @burminq @a55hie @wildesreblogs @kaewonie @online--princess @alixox @minkyungseokie @moa4lifeee @yeehawnana @peakaboostuff @txtistheloml @sieuneo @weyrrii @cookiehaos @vianna99 @akari-saka13 @crystal-jellies @veryjeongintxtkid @reiloml @mystiicturtle @sirpoopsalot @certifiedmoa @l0ve-joy @woncheecks @hellohuening @rainbowszi @yeonie137 @neoculturewhat @solstramaii @tocupid @cha0thicpisces @koeuh @iwaplant @lemons4u

When the prom venue was chosen and booked, Yunjin had a vision she couldn’t be talked out of. It was cliché, already been done. But, to Yunjin, there was nothing she couldn’t outdo and ameliorate—and a prom theme wasn’t any different. Kazuha would tell everyone it was a pain in the ass trying to meet Yunjin’s demands; but, now that it was all over and the fruit of their labor was finally able to be appreciated, she couldn’t deny it was all worth it.

From the dark blue shaded ceiling drapes adorned with twinkling lights to the glossy black dance floor sparkling with silver specs and reflecting the lights above, it was like stepping into a celestial wonderland. Starry night seemed to be a staple theme for youth events, commemorating these moments as magical and full of whimsy. And Yunjin couldn’t stop herself from doing just that and more. The round tables were intricately positioned around the room, hugging the dance floor and creating a path. The tables were dressed in velvet covers, trimmed with silver beads, and in the center of every table were the handmade centerpieces Yunjin forced Kazuha to make with her. Cylindrical vases of varying heights, filled with water, small white flowers, and iridescent streamers, sat inside a square tray filled with crystal pebbles. On top of the water floats lit candles, adding to the calming ambiance. The room was filled with decor exemplifying the theme from white, black, and navy blue balloon displays, twinkling stars, white drapes along the walls, and a sparkling golden crescent moon. Lights everywhere, flickering and flashing. The star of the display, however, Yunjin would argue, was the four-tiered golden fountain in the center of the dance floor. Her favorite touch was the fountain that took her three months of convincing and revamping.

“Wow, it’s beautiful, Yunjin,” Soobin gapped, doing his best to talk over the music while admiring every inch of the room.

Yunjin grinned, watching as their classmates admired and relished in the venue, “I know right.”

“Any word from Chaewon yet?” Beomgyu interjected, hands fiddling with the sleeves of his white suit jacket.

“Not yet,” Yunjin sighed, tapping her phone just to see an empty notification screen.

She looked up at Beomgyu, watching how his eyes wandered the room and the way he chewed on his bottom lip. He wasn’t even this nervous during their performance week.

“Beomgyu,” Yunjin said, placing her hand on his shoulder, gaining his attention. “Everything is gonna work out just fine. We’ve got this.”

Beomgyu nodded hesitantly, taking a deep breath. Despite being so last-minute, his friends were more than willing to move heaven and earth to make this gesture possible. Especially Yunjin and Kazuha, who used their privileges as prom committee members to create as romantic of a scene as they possibly could. 

Just then, Yunjin’s phone flashed, alerting the three to a message from Chaewon.

‘Pulling up now. Get ready!’

Beomgyu felt his entire body turn cold. He looked between Yunjin and Soobin, heart threatening to jump out of his chest.

Soobin grabbed his arm, “It’s go-time!”

Leading Beomgyu through the crowd of students, Soobin made a beeline toward the DJ booth where Kazuha and Taehyun were waiting. As soon as the two noticed them rushing toward them, they began preparing the equipment.

YN grabbed a fistful of the skirt of her dress, nervously following Chaewon into the building. She could hear the faint thumping of the music down the corridor from the entrance, making her palms feel clammy and her breath uneasy. She didn’t want to be here originally. The embarrassment of Beomgyu rejecting her promposal was bad enough; but then, subsequently rejecting his relationship proposal after the gritty events following, it felt wrong being here.

Even when Chaewon was helping her do her hair and makeup, all she could think about was everything Yunjin said about prom. About it being the perfect ending to her and Beomgyu’s year. Instead, she’s going without Beomgyu, having already ended their story the night of their final performance. It wasn’t an easy decision, but it had been on her mind since the moment Beomgyu opened up to her. She would never do something as horrible as Jieun, but she knew that being thousands of miles away while building her career would make it nearly impossible to be a present part of his life. She just needed confirmation from NYU, and when she got it, it was the only option she felt was right.

Still, walking up to the beautifully decorated venue entrance, being met with the music growing louder and louder, all she could feel was regret and sadness, not an ounce of excitement. Chaewon locked their arms together as they walked through the string light entrance toward the sheer blue curtain, pushing through and falling in awe with the dance hall.

YN couldn’t stop looking around, taking in every bit of what felt like walking through the night sky, unaware that the music was going dim. She didn’t even notice Chaewon taking her down to the dance floor, too busy admiring the lit-up path edged with cloud-like bushels. It wasn’t until Chaewon let go of her did she realized where she was led. She looked around her, noticing the dance floor was cleared with everyone surrounding the floor while staring at her. YN looked back for Chaewon, who held up her hands and assured her all was okay. Confused, YN looked back at the floor, looking around for any hint of what was going on. She felt a wave of emotion and goosebumps over her arms and neck as a song suddenly began playing through the hall. A painfully familiar tune.

A spotlight shines over the fountain, gaining everyone’s attention, beaming over to a figure standing at the DJ booth. YN recognized him immediately and couldn’t help the smile forming on her lips.

Beomgyu stretched out his hand over his eyes, trying to block out the light so he could see her more clearly. In his other hand, he held a microphone. As soon as he saw her, he felt his nerves melt away and all he could focus on was her. He brought the microphone up to his lips, gaze never leaving her, and slowly made his way down the booth to the floor.

Guess mine is not the first heart broken

My eyes are not the first to cry

YN stood frozen, hands clenching to the fabric of her dress, watching as Beomgyu made his way toward her. The spotlight followed every step he took, making it impossible to look away from him. The light contrast made it hard for Beomgyu to read the expression on YN’s face, but he only hoped she was still smiling as he stepped closer and closer.

I’m not the first to know

There’s just no getting over you

It was such a spur-of-the-moment idea to sing to YN at prom. His friends still don’t know what happened after he met with Mr. Kim, but whatever it was, had to be a big deal. Beomgyu described it as “the sign of all signs” and his second chance. It was the last push he needed to consider Yeonjun’s plan of making the most of the time they had left. And, he knew he had to do something big to show YN how deeply he felt. What better way was that than through music?

You know I’m just a fool who’s willing

To sit around and wait for you

Beomgyu stopped a few steps in front of YN, reaching his hand out for her to take. YN could see his hand trembling, making her chest heave. She reached out slowly, letting him take her hand and gently pull her toward the center of the floor.

But, baby, can’t you see

There’s nothing else for me to do?

I’m hopelessly devoted to you

A smile crept its way to Beomgyu’s face, his confidence gaining as he noticed the faint blush painted across YN’s cheeks, as he was finally able to see her face clearly. He couldn’t help but focus on her eyes, the way they stared up at him in adoration. He swore his knees would buckle any moment if he didn’t look away, but he just couldn’t. He took a chance to twirl her around once before bringing her in and swaying together as the spotlight dimmed and they were bathed under the soft twinkling of the string lights around them.

But now there’s nowhere to hide

Since you pushed my love aside

He took YN’s hand and held it up to his chest, squeezing gently. YN could feel how hard his heart was pounding through the palm of her hand. She looked back up at him, watching the way his eyes fluttered closed as he continued to sing. For a moment, she forgot people were watching them. It felt like it was just her and Beomgyu at this moment in time.

I’m out of my head

Hopelessly devoted to you

YN carefully released her hand from Beomgyu’s grip and reached up to cup his face. He followed her movements, gaze falling back to hers as soon as he felt the warmth of her palm on his cheek. He turned into putty whenever he felt her soft fingers trace along the base of his ear, along his jaw. Her touch was so tender and comforting. He wished they could stay this way forever.

Hopelessly devoted to you

“I’m hopelessly devoted… to you,” Beomgyu sighed the last note, hands reaching up to cup YN’s cheeks to carefully wipe away her tears. 

The music faded, leaving them in silence. People hesitated to cheer Beomgyu’s performance, not wanting to spoil the moment unfolding before them. When Taehyun made an announcement about this ordeal before YN’s arrival, they were reluctant to oblige, but as they watched the way Beomgyu poured his heart out into every lyric, they wanted nothing more than bare witness. It wasn’t like Beomgyu to have this much passion for anything or anyone, but ever since taking part in the musical, it was like he became a different person. Happier. Full of life. Desire for the future.

“What was all this for? When did you plan this? What?” YN began to blabber, looking around at everyone and spotting her friends gathered by the DJ booth with smiles on their faces.

Beomgyu pulled her attention back to him, smiling. “I know you said you said you wanted to just be friends. But, YN, I don’t think I can do that.”

“You can’t?”

Beomgyu shook his head. “It took me too long to realize the feelings I have for you aren’t just infatuation. YN, I’m in love with you.”

YN’s eyes widened. She never expected to hear that word from him. It was a scary word to hear at their age, but for some reason, it felt more liberating than scary. It felt right.

“Kiss her!” Someone yelled, pushing the rest of the crowd to begin chanting.

Beomgyu looked at YN, raising his eyebrows as if asking if it was okay. But, before he could even open his mouth to ask, she grabbed the collar of his jacket and pulled him down, catching him off guard. Their lips crashed together, leaving Beomgyu bewildered for a moment before melting into her touch as their classmates cheered on. His hands found their place at her hips, where the hem of her bodice met the skirt of her floor-length dress. This was a feeling he could never get used to.

The DJ restarted his set, encouraging everyone to get back on the floor. Beomgyu pulled away, grinning from ear to ear, grabbing YN’s hand and pulling her away from the floor and toward the entrance to the corridors. There was barely anyone there, allowing them to catch a breath and enjoy each other’s company for a bit longer.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” YN said, gripping Beomgyu’s hands as she attempted to relax the adrenaline she felt.

“I had to do something big to tell you how I feel,” Beomgyu confessed. “Besides, I had to do something special, too, for that thoughtful promposal you gave me.”

YN slapped her hands over her face, embarrassment overtaking the rush. “I can’t believe you reminded me of that!”

Beomgyu laughed, attempting to pull her hands away, but she wouldn’t budge.

“I wanted to experience this night with you,” he sighed, giving up and pulling her against his chest instead. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head. “I never saw myself going to prom, but when you asked me, all I could think about was how pretty you were gonna look.”

“Until you rejected me,” YN muttered.

Beomgyu squeezed her tight, a grimace falling over his face. “I deserve to be shamed for that. I know. I thought it was the right thing to do at the time, like a dumbass.”

YN picked her head up from her hands, looking up at Beomgyu as he looked down at her. She could see the regret he felt about that moment written all over his face. 

“Just like me when I said we should just be friends, huh?” She asked softly.

“Depends,” Beomgyu sighed. “Would it make a difference if I told you that I might be joining you in New York come spring?”

YN’s eyes widened, her mouth falling agape. She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t get her voice out. All she could do was stare at him in bewilderment and squeeze his arms from shock. Beomgyu found it amusing. It was similar to the way he reacted when Mr. Kim told him. He could recall that moment like it just happened. Sitting in the chair facing Mr. Kim’s desk like he always was throughout the year, only instead of being scolded for his missing assignments or poor attendance record, he was waiting to hear the reflection on his performance in the spring musical. Mr. Kim praised him for his outstanding performance and display of great showmanship, a drastic change from the usual threats of detention for being a smartass in class.

“When did this happen?! What are you talking about?!” YN finally said, managing to break through her initial shock.

Beomgyu laughed, “Mr. Kim called me into his office to discuss my final grade and sprung it on me out of nowhere!”

“What did he say? What happened? I need to know it all!”

“He just made me read an email from NYU. They invited me to apply for the music program for the spring semester! I guess they liked me?” Beomgyu shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.

Beomgyu was satisfied knowing he passed his final assignment ensuring his seat at graduation, but when he got up to leave, Mr. Kim urged him to sit back down. They had gone over everything they needed to, what more could there be to discuss? The grin on Mr. Kim’s face was borderline unsettling as he turned his computer screen for Beomgyu to see. With his eyebrows furrowed, Beomgyu steadily leaned forward to get a clearer view and began reading the open email tab adorned with a familiar purple emblem at the top.

Dear Mr. Kim, We wanted to thank you again for hosting us as we conducted a final review for fall semester applicants. Your drama department is brimming with talent and it was a delightful treat to be able to see the passion among your students. Everyone at NYU is more than enthusiastic about the prospects you are producing. One of your students in particular grabbed our attention especially. After discussing with the rest of the board, we are honored to extend an invitation to Choi Beomgyu to apply for the upcoming spring semester at NYU Tisch for our music program. Beomgyu demonstrated an elite level of music and vocal performance that moved our recruiters. Let us know if you or Beomgyu have any questions. We look forward to hearing from him.

“What did your parents say?” YN asked.

“They don’t know yet,” Beomgyu sighed. “No one knows actually. You’re the first person I told.”

“When are you going to tell them? Are you even applying?”

“Oh, I’m applying,” Beomgyu assured. “I never thought I could get an offer to pursue music. I don’t want to pass this up!”

No matter what Beomgyu did or said, his parents were adamant about having him take over the family market when he was old enough. All those summers spent working alongside his father in the market instead of practicing the chords his grandfather taught him on guitar. Those times they told him to keep his music down and stop “screaming” all the time. He knew it would be hard to tell them about the NYU offer. And, it would be nearly impossible to get their blessing to apply. But, this felt like a once-in-a-lifetime chance to make something of his old dream. Even without their support, he knew he had friends who would have his back and give him that push.

“I’m so happy for you,” YN said softly, tears brimming in her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing him tightly. She was overcome with joy and excitement at the thought of Beomgyu not only pursuing his dream but pursuing it alongside her in New York.

Beomgyu felt his own tears finally fall as he wrapped his arms around YN, finding peace in knowing it wouldn’t be the last time. He wouldn’t have to say goodbye this summer. He wouldn’t have to “make the most” out of every moment until she left for New York. For weeks, all he could dwell on was the idea of never being able to see her once she left. But now, the tension and worries were gone. He could enjoy their time together while they had it because their time apart could be numbered. They would be able to meet again one day in the new year when spring returns to gift them more precious memories like the spring they met.

[ note ] cheers cheers happy happy we scream and cry together aHHhHhh

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[soscarlett1twas]

Fallen Tree

↳ Lawrence and Nathaniel had a favorite childhood tree. Xanthus returns to the spot 400 years later. ↳ 3k words / also available on ao3! ↳ Inspired by Fallen Tree, a painting by Alexandre Calame

“Please, do be careful.” His voice lifted just above the rushing water, carrying its way to the little boy right above it. 

He giggled. “I am!” 

Lawrence gave a haphazard sigh, crouching down into the grass. His sight didn’t leave his brother, who had begged to go here. 

The clearing was a peculiar place - not far from Claiborne land but not owned by the family, nor anyone for that matter. All but abandoned, the plot had become a favorite of Nathaniel’s. He loved to run and let the weeds, some even taller than himself, graze his fingertips (which Lawrence found adorable). He had proclaimed his ‘discovery’ of this place as a step towards becoming a true adventurer.

And now he’s graduated from running between weeds. Now, it’s tree climbing. Lawrence found this significantly less cute.  

His brother’s tiny frame pushed from branch to branch, smiling all the way. Every time he grabbed a divot in the bark he pointed it out. Lawrence watched on in silent agony. He tensed every time Nathaniel’s frail hands seemed to loosen. He had half a mind to ban him from doing this altogether, but seeing him smile, holes from missing teeth and crooked, made Lawrence shove it all down. How could he take this away from him? 

There was one barrier he put onto the whole ordeal: He was only allowed to climb this beech tree, which stood in the middle of the clearing. Its branches were thick enough to hold his weight, wasn’t too big for any real danger, and its trunk was tall enough so Nathaniel couldn’t climb without Lawrence’s assistance. Granted, the thing was situated right next to a running stream, but Lawrence saw it as a blessing more than anything. Sometimes, when Nathaniel got winded from climbing, they drank its water because he didn’t want to wait to get home. 

Looking up at him, shadows danced across Lawrence’s frame from the shifting leaves. The winds, however calm, seemed to eddy around the clearing. Lawrence took a breath, the sugary smell of honeysuckles wafting into his nose, and felt his unease steady. The kid had never fallen. He was here to watch him. His brother was alright. 

He took a moment to look around him. It truly was a beautiful day. Blue skies peppered with clouds, flowers waxing towards the sun. Bird songs echoed from treetops, some even diving down to sit on bushes, collecting twigs and scrap for a nest. Tranquility bloomed in every crevice. He couldn’t help but smile. 

“Look! Look,” a breathy voice hailed from the beech tree. Lawrence did as it commanded. 

Nathaniel sat on a towering branch, feet dangling in the open air.

“Wow,” Lawrence half-shouted. “You’re quite high up.” 

“I am!” He threw his arms open wide. “I feel like the king!” 

For as adorable as it was, Lawrence felt a bubbling fear in his chest. “Be careful.”

“I know…” Nathaniel began to stand, one arm pushed into the bark to stabilize himself. Lawrence felt his fingernails dig into his palm.

A breeze pushed up at him, hair tickling his ears. “Maybe you should come down now… we can always come back another day.” 

“But I want to keep going!” His brother leaned slightly over the edge to look down at him. His arm was still on the tree, but the other swung at his side. 

“We’ll come back,” he repeated. The wind carried the scent of honeysuckles and streamwater back to him. 

“Come on… just a few branches higher!” 

“No. Come down.” 

“But-” 

“Nathaniel, I said come down!” 

A sudden gust of wind picked up, creating the static noise of rustling leaves. Lawrence watched as his brother opened his mouth to argue more, but lost his footing as the wood began to shake. The boy made a motion to grab the tree but it was too late: He had slipped off. 

Florals and fear mixed as Lawrence ran forward. 

Without thinking he dove into the riverbank, his brother plummeting towards it. 

He held his hands out, and by some miracle of God, he caught him. 

A deep sigh of relief hitched in his throat, almost sounding like a sob as he accidentally collapsed into the water. It rushed into his nose. He may as well have blacked out for a moment before the squirming boy brought him back to reality. 

His clothes were soaked, caked with a layer of grime the water carried. As he waded out, Lawrence was careful to not let a single drop of it touch Nathaniel. 

When they were both safely away from water, Lawrence set him down and promptly rolled into the grass, deep breaths permeating the space between words. “You aren’t climbing again.” 

“...huh? What?” Nathan’s look of adrenaline faded into shock. “You can’t do that.”

“Oh yes, I can.” 

“But…” Nathaniel started. Then he bit his tongue. 

“You could’ve gotten seriously hurt, you could’ve died!” 

“But I didn’t.” A pleading look danced on his face. 

Lawrence steeled. “The answer is no.” He got up and grabbed Nathan’s arm. 

The kid didn’t put up a fight, just allowing himself to be dragged along back to the house. But Lawrence could feel the hostility radiate off the boy. He understood the rage; Not towards his brother, but towards himself. He allowed the climbing, he enabled the fall. 

The water still on his face mixed with his sweat, and maybe even a tear. 

As they approached the beginning of the forest, the only known path back to their manor, Lawrence abruptly stopped.

He took a delicate, curling white flower from a bush and handed it to Nathan. The boy looked on in confusion, then delight. 

He took the end of it - two green leaves from the bush - and pried them off, revealing filament with a singular drop of sweetness. He licked it off. 

He grabbed a few more as they passed and handed one to Lawrence, a silent apology. 

He took it but left it in his pocket. He didn’t have the stomach to eat it. Not when the stench still rang in his nose. 

—

Xanthus stepped over a thick root, careful not to trip into the bramble. Underbrush and weeds had invaded the path, spattering the edges of the dirt with thorns that threatened to cut someone deep. He grumbled to himself something about wearing the wrong attire for a woodland outing. 

He had long gone off the main road. Over the years he’d been gone, these dirt pathways had become rare as most were paved over with concrete and fences, cars moving in place of carriages. Industrialization throttled every part of London the same. Even this deep into the countryside, the sounds of it never left his ears. They buzzed like gnats, unwanted pests that flew around him like he was rot long left out. 

Though, Xanthus supposed, he was rot. Undead rot in a casing of slacks and a sweater, but rot all the same. 

He suddenly became very aware of the fangs in his mouth. He adjusted his jaw. 

Xanthus kept walking, following a vague desire path that seemed ten years overgrown. It had not been set by him - but he knew it well anyway. Farther in he went, the forest swelled. The light dimmed as the trees became thicker, trunks growing greater in circumference than his height. As he passed particularly large ones, he wondered who was older: Him or it. 

In the distance, a rabbit landed. He heard its thump, saw the scurry of leaves around it, and could even feel the pumping blood in its veins. A quick object of focus before swiftly turning his attention to something else. He was used to this darting attention: The abundance of life blended together, less stimulating than the city yet still humming in his ear. He just tuned it out, focused on fleeting memories to trail him back to the clearing. 

It had been so long. Was there even hope in remembering the way? 

He kept going. 

From the ambiance of wildlife emerged the unique purr of human voices. They started small: Indistinguishable from the trotting of deer and whiz of bugs, but slowly rose to stand out among the vibrations. At first, Xanthus neglected this realization, too lost in his mind to pay attention. But they became sharp, pushing their way to the front of the symphony until they were at the forefront of his mind - and though unwittingly and agitated, Xanthus looked up. 

The voices echoed from just beyond the pathway if slightly to the left, beckoning him forward. Déjà vu struck him. They - were there two? The vocals were so similar it was hard to tell - spoke and giggled and yelled. Those were the sounds of children playing in the field. He paused. 

It was a sign to turn back. To never see this place again. One final push to save himself the heartache. But Xanthus followed the voices, one step at a time. Just one. Then another, and eventually another. Until he dragged himself the rest of the hike, and the voices boomed in his ears, and he wanted to leave and never return here or any parts of London or England because what was there even to stay for– 

“What if it breaks?”

The question struck the front of his mind, a thought so clear and strong that for a split second, he thought it was his own. But the voice wasn’t. 

Xanthus honed in on the clearing. This was it. Most of it was the same. Weeds and flower bushes, saplings and stones. But there was no stream anymore, seemingly turned into a pond and then a puddle: Unmoving and dirty. The surrounding forest was noticeably thinner as well, with shadows lighter and allowing full sun. 

Amidst it all, where a beech once grew, was a stump. And next to it was a felled log that cast above the still creek, gutted of branches. 

For a second, Xanthus forgot all else, entranced with memories of an otherwise forgotten time. 

“It won’t! Climb, come on,” buzzed a similar voice. Xanthus flinched, sharply turning his gaze from the stump to the log. On it sat a boy, dangling his feet above the still water. 

“You don’t know that…” Xanthus glanced down. This one stood in the grass, staring up at his companion. 

Xanthus felt himself lean forward, pushing out of the foliage to get closer. 

The boys continued bickering about whether or not the grounded one should mount the log. From their voices, Xanthus guessed they were 12, maybe 13 - certainly from around here, as the accents seemed local. 

The one previously in the grass hesitantly stepped onto a trunk, and Xanthus felt roil in his chest. He took a breath and felt the breeze scrap his teeth. They felt hollow. 

Xanthus watched as he leaped from the stump to the log, trying desperately not to lose balance. His arms shot out, and the giggle of his companion echoed: “You’re fine, you’re a meter off the ground. A fall isn’t going to kill you.”

“It’s still dangerous…” He muttered below his breath, quiet enough for the other to not hear. With every step the hesitancy was clear. Eventually, he shot out his arms in some vain attempt to balance and, however tentatively, he finished the climb and met the other. Almost. 

With one misplaced step, the boy slipped. His foot went straight through some rotten wood, shattering under his weight and taking his leg through the log. Xanthus rushed forward. 

He hadn’t realized he had moved until he was halfway through the clearing, jolted out of his thoughts through stinging sunlight. He stumbled to a stop. His friend had caught his arm, pulling them close, free arms clinging to the other. Their heartbeats echoed together. 

The once-still pool now rippled from the impact of moldered bark, the splash only registering after it happened. A distinctive hole was shot through the log. 

Xanthus pulled himself up from his half-lunge, placing a steadying hand on his chest. Memories boiled up to the front of his mind, distracting him from the painful taper of sunlight on skin, however much more cruel they may be. Something wet grazed his waterline. The warm air felt boiling as he took in two long breaths. 

When he looked up, the boys were less tangled, only their hands still gripping the other's arm. Silently, they watched the pool, breaths and heartbeats calming in tune with the water. The nearly-fallen one slowly turned his head to his mate, a look of incredulous horror painting him. 

The other shrugged, almost slinking away from the gaze: “Well, I got up here just fine…” Skeptical humor dripped from his voice as if he were testing the waters to see if the situation was considered funny or not. It was a tone Xanthus remembered surprisingly well. 

“This is why I didn’t want to do this.” Xanthus squinted, finally registering just what he was looking at. 

“I was just trying to have some fun, I’m sorry; I wouldn’t have gone up here if I knew it was dangerous.” That’s why this was so familiar. 

“Yes, you would’ve!” They were brothers. 

Of course. Wasn’t it obvious? Only siblings could squabble like this while still hooked to one another as if their lives depended on it. That was the very nature of them. Sardonically, Xanthus wondered what it was about this valley that drew in brothers.

Moreover, they were identical. How Xanthus hadn’t noticed before, he didn’t know - but next to each other, he saw the blatant similarity. Same stature, same shape. Hickory brown swept around their heads in waves, slightly unruly in its twists. Not even clothing was an indicator of who was who. They wore the same schoolboy uniform. 

That’s why the voices were so similar.  A huff of laughter left him. 

It took a moment to realize that fast-paced noise was no longer voices, but pumping blood: Did something else happen? Xanthus refocused on the boys, only to be met with their eyes doing the same to him. 

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then the one hardened his grip on the other. 

Xanthus raised his hands. “I don’t mean any harm.” It sounded more sarcastic than he’d like. “I heard the snapping and came running.” Not technically a lie. 

They were not convinced. 

“Then why were you laughing…” One of them muttered. He pretended not to hear. 

“Are you two alright?” He made a show of scaling the fallen log, casting purposeful scorn onto the hole through it. “Do you need help down from there?” 

“We’re fine,” and “Please,” echoed from uniform voices at the same time. They traded a quick look of confusion with each other. 

“What are you doing?” Once again they said it at the same time. 

“We need help down.” 

“No, we don’t. This guy’s a creep.” Xanthus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Would you stop being so stubborn? I’m not doing that again. Sir? Yes, could you help me please?”  

A smile of gritted teeth bled onto Xanthus’ face. He truly didn’t care about them. He just wanted them gone, and if hoisting them off the timber would do it, well, he was waiting with open arms. Literally. 

He walked up as close as he could to the log, stepping to the side that they climbed up from, reaching out his hand for the boy to take. The cooperative one started shimmying along the wooden minefield, letting go of his brother's hand in the process. 

When they were close enough to touch, Xanthus grabbed his arm and glided him off the beam, catching him and carefully setting him to the ground. 

“Thank you,” he said through a wavering smile. 

Just behind Xanthus, a thud hit the ground in tandem with a bit of murky water splashing up and onto his shoes. He didn’t even need to turn: The boy stomped around him and stood next to the other, arms crossed.  

A ghostly twitch flickered in Xanthus’ under eyelid. “Where are your parents?” 

“Why do you care?”  

Xanthus took a moment to convince himself not to compel the brat into shutting up and leaving. 

“We’ll be going now, so sorry to disturb you.” 

“What? We were already here, we don’t need to leave.”

“I think it’s best if we do.” He grabbed his arm and pulled him away. 

“I’m not leaving, some guy showed up and took it upon himself to ‘help’ us. This isn’t weird to you? Andrew, please admit this is weird.” Xanthus didn’t even need his enhanced hearing for this, they were just talking right in front of him. 

“You’re berating me for him helping me down? I could’ve – you could’ve – gotten seriously hurt!” Andrew snapped at his brother. His voice was shockingly distraught. 

Those words rang in Xanthus’ ears, ripples of the past resurfacing. He had said that. A long time ago. 

He looked on at the boy and saw a wraith of Nathaniel inlaid in the shocked eyes, the agape mouth. One aching part of him hoped he would argue back, just as Nathaniel hadn’t. 

But he wouldn’t either. 

The boy just looked down at the grass, cheeks getting redder as he thought about what to do.

When he did reopen his mouth, Xanthus raised a hand. 

“It’s alright. Everyone’s fine, just… you two run along.” 

They nodded politely. “Thank you again, sir.” They turned to leave. 

When far enough away, their attempts at whispers flocked to Xanthus’ ears. “I told you none of this was a good idea!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know–”

“That it was rotten and I’d slip? Well, I didn’t either and I still had the forethought to not climb it.”

Xanthus stared unblinking at the boles, frayed and damaged, withering into the dirt. Trees felled to logs. Wood into mulch. Bones in the ground.

He reached into his pocket and thumbed a honeysuckle he plucked on the way here.  

Don’t be cruel, Andrew, Lawrence thought. He didn’t know. It’s alright. He didn’t know. 

[bookie-the-reading-junkie]

4444 WORDS IN ONE DAY HELL YEAHHHH

okay, I only wrote like 300 words yesterday because my brother asked if I could join him going into town (and then I started working on some crafting projects when we got back) so today i'm gonna work on this chapter