#like he used she her a few times but for the entire rest of the video he Seemingly Just Forgot

[reiding-writing]

Maybe a fic where Cold! Reader has been letting her softer side show around Spencer, and one day when she lets a smile slip he tries to tell her that he likes her smile??

THE SMILE THAT SLIPPED — SPENCER REID!

you don’t feel things like this. you don’t. ever. except maybe you actually do.

spencer reid x cold!reader | 2.4k | fluff | cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n— this came out to exactly 2400 words and it’s so satisfying

The bullpen is quieter than usual.

The exhaustion of a closed case hangs in the air, making the usual rustling of paperwork and distant hum of conversation feel almost comforting. You sit at your desk, the last few reports in front of you, fingers idly toying with your pen as you force yourself to focus.

It’s late, but no one’s rushing to leave. The team lingers, unwinding in the way they always do after a case—half-finished conversations, shared glances, a collective sense of relief.

Across from you, Spencer is flipping through a file at an alarming speed, his knee bouncing beneath the desk. It’s a familiar sight, one you’ve grown used to. You don’t realize you’re watching until his voice breaks through the background noise.

*"*You know, statistically speaking, people who work late tend to make more errors in their reports. Fatigue impairs cognitive function—kind of like being drunk, actually. So, technically…” He looks up, eyes bright with something innocently fascinating. “We’re all just sleep-deprived, paper-pushing drunks right now,”

It’s not the words themselves. It’s the way he says it—earnest and slightly amused, like he didn’t mean for it to sound like a joke but realised it as he was saying it.

Before you can stop it, a small smile tugs at your lips. It’s brief, barely there, but it happens.

And Spencer sees it.

He stills mid-page turn, hazel eyes widening just slightly. His lips part, like he’s about to say something and then thinks better of it. But after a beat, his voice comes, softer this time.

“I like your smile,”

The words hit like a misfired shot, straight to the chest. Your breath catches.

You freeze.

For a moment, the bullpen fades—the low murmur of voices, the shuffle of papers, the distant ringing of a phone. All of it disappears beneath the weight of his words.

People have complimented you before. You know how to brush them off, how to let them roll off your back like they mean nothing. But this? This is different.

Because Spencer isn’t saying it in passing. He isn’t trying to flatter you or win you over. He’s just saying it, like a quiet observation. Like a fact.

And that unsettles you more than anything.

Your expression shutters in an instant. The walls go up before you can think, instinctual and sharp-edged. You look away, shaking your head slightly, as if dismissing the moment entirely.

“Get back to your report, Reid.”

You don’t wait for his reaction. You don’t want to see it. Instead, you focus on the papers in front of you, grip tightening around your pen.

But even as you force your attention elsewhere, his words linger. Nestle into the corners of your mind.

And that brief, impossible warmth in your chest?

You don’t want to think about what it means.

You don’t look at him again.

Not when he shifts slightly in his seat, the rustle of paper between his fingers halting for a fraction of a second. Not when he exhales softly, as if debating whether to say something more.

You just keep your eyes fixed on your report, willing the moment to disappear.

Your voice had been even, detached—just the way you intended. But there had been something else underneath. Too quiet for him to catch, you hope.

Spencer doesn’t say anything, but you feel the weight of his stare. A hesitation. A question he doesn’t voice. Then, slowly, the sound of him turning a page resumes, though less fluid than before.

Still, you don’t look up.

You can’t.

—

For the rest of the day, you keep your distance.

It’s not unusual for you to be reserved—stoic, even. No one questions it when you opt out of lingering conversations, when you choose solitude over small talk. But today, you’re avoiding Spencer in a way that’s painfully deliberate.

Every time he moves near, you find a reason to move elsewhere.

When he passes your desk to grab a file, you suddenly decide you need something from the break room.

When he glances your way during a briefing, you keep your gaze firmly on the case notes in front of you.

When he lingers near the coffee pot, shifting as if working up the nerve to speak, you bypass him entirely, opting for a bottle of water instead.

And Spencer notices.

At first, he thinks it’s a coincidence. Maybe you’re just having an off day. Maybe you’re distracted.

But by the fifth time it happens, the crease between his brows deepens.

Did he overstep?

He replays the moment in his mind, trying to pinpoint where he went wrong. He hadn’t meant anything by it—at least, not in a way that should’ve pushed you away.

He had just… liked your smile.

And maybe he shouldn’t have said it out loud, but it had slipped past his lips before he could stop it. Before he could remind himself that you don’t do things like this.

That you don’t let people in.

So why had you smiled in the first place?

And why does it bother him so much that you won’t even look at him now?

—

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter.

That the tension in your chest is nothing. That his words had been just that—words.

But as much as you try to shake them, they follow you.

“I like your smile,”

It had been soft. Unassuming. No expectation, no ulterior motive. Just an observation, spoken like a truth he hadn’t realised he was sharing.

And that’s what unsettles you the most.

You’ve spent so long keeping people at arm’s length, making sure no one sees too much, knows too much. And yet, for one fleeting second, he’d seen something.

A crack in the armour.

And he hadn’t ridiculed it. Hadn’t pointed it out with some smug remark.

He had simply liked it.

And you don’t know what to do with that.

—

The injury isn’t bad.

It’s inconvenient, sure—annoying—but it���s nothing you can’t handle. A twisted ankle, a sharp jolt of pain when you put too much weight on it, but nothing that warrants the level of concern the team is throwing your way.

"You should ice that," Emily had said after the case wrapped, nodding toward your ankle as you leaned against the SUV.

“You should get it checked out,” Morgan added when you limped your way back into the precinct after your foiled foot chase.

“You should at least sit down,” JJ had pointed out, exasperated, when you waved off Morgan’s concern and started organising the paperwork.

And Spencer?

He hadn’t said anything.

He had looked—of course, he had. You could feel his eyes on you in the way that made your skin prickle, in the way that made you want to disappear under the scrutiny. But he never commented, never pushed.

It should’ve been a relief.

So why does it bother you?

—

You avoid going to the coffee shop down the street for obvious reasons. The last thing you need is for someone to make a fuss over you limping back to the office, and you refuse to ask anyone to go for you.

You tell yourself you don’t care. That the shitty break room coffee machine is fine. That it doesn’t bother you.

But when you come back from a meeting and sit at your desk, a familiar cup is waiting for you.

The logo. The exact order. The slight hint of caramel in the air.

You blink, staring at it like it might disappear.

You glance around the bullpen instinctively, but no one is paying you any mind. No one except Spencer, who doesn’t look away fast enough when your eyes find him.

The second you make eye contact, he drops his gaze back to his book, fingers twitching like he hadn’t meant to get caught.

You should ignore it. Pretend you didn’t notice. Pretend the warmth curling in your chest doesn’t exist.

Instead, your fingers tighten around the cup, a quiet acknowledgment only for yourself.

Then, you notice the note.

A small yellow sticky note, left beside your keyboard.

—Caffeine may slow the healing process, but I figured you’d rather risk it. Your ankle should improve in stages: swelling will peak in 48 hours, and mobility should return within a week. Try not to push it. :)

It’s simple. Factual. Exactly what you’d expect from him.

And yet, you feel something catch in your throat.

Not because of the words themselves, but because of what they mean.

Because despite the fact that you’ve been avoiding him for days, despite the fact that you shut down the last time he got too close, Spencer still noticed.

And he didn’t push. Didn’t demand a thank you. Didn’t hover or ask if you were okay.

He just… did this.

And you don’t realize how much it means until you’re alone.

—

You stare at the coffee.

It’s lukewarm now, condensation beading against the cup, but you haven’t taken a sip. You just keep staring, fingers curled around the cardboard sleeve, chest tight with something you don’t want to name.

It shouldn’t mean anything.

It’s just coffee. A stupid, simple gesture.

And yet.

The fact that you have it at all. The note. The way Spencer had looked away when you caught him watching—like he looking at you just because he wanted to.

You swallow hard.

This isn’t the first time he’s done something like this. Not really. You replay the moments in your head—the subtle ways he’s always noticed things about you before you even noticed them yourself.

The way he hands you a pen without you asking, just as yours runs out of ink.

The way he subtly shifts so you have an easier exit from a crowded room.

The way he remembers your order at every coffee shop, even when you don’t go to the same one twice.

The way he never pushes, never demands, never asks for more than you’re willing to give.

The way he just… sees you.

And that terrifies you.

Because you’ve spent so long keeping people at arm’s length, building walls high enough that no one could ever slip through. You don’t let people close. You can’t.

But Spencer?

He’s already there.

And somehow, you hadn’t even noticed until now.

Your pulse stutters, something sharp and unfamiliar twisting in your stomach.

Oh no.

—

The next day, you wake up with a sense of urgency you don’t understand.

You can’t stop thinking about him—about Spencer. About everything. About how he’s seen you. And how that thought makes you want to hide.

You have half the mind to bury yourself in the earth and never look at him again. To pack up and leave the BAU and disappear into the anonymity of a new job, new city, new life. Somewhere no one could care enough to notice if you smiled or if you were limping or if you were secretly falling apart inside.

But you don’t.

You don’t run. Not this time.

Instead, you get to work early, before the team trickles in, before Spencer arrives and fills the room with that quietly intense energy he always carries with him.

You don’t know why you’re doing this. But the thought of avoiding him again, of pretending like nothing matters, feels too heavy to bear.

—

You don’t say anything.

You just do it.

You make his coffee—exactly the way he likes it. Not too much sugar, swirled black, in that old worn out starfish mug he should’ve thrown out years ago.

You’re silent in the break room, the hum of the coffee machine filling the space between you and the mug you slide carefully onto the counter. It feels like the most normal thing in the world to do, and yet, your heart is pounding like you’re stepping into a completely foreign territory.

You can already hear the steady click of footsteps approaching, but you don’t look up. Not until the moment is right.

He’s here.

Spencer doesn’t say anything at first. His eyes flick to the coffee on the counter, then to you, and then back to the coffee as if trying to make sense of it. It’s the same as always, and yet it’s different.

He looks up at you, caught off guard, blinking a few times.

You turn away quickly, suddenly aware of the heat in your face, as if somehow your actions were a betrayal of everything you’d been trying to keep locked away.

It’s nothing, you tell yourself. Nothing at all.

But then, before you can retreat into the familiar coldness, he smiles.

It’s soft. Quiet. Like he’s known all along what this was.

There’s no teasing in his eyes, no attempt to make light of the situation. Just understanding. And something else—something gentler than you’ve ever seen from him before.

His smile is everything you didn’t realize you needed.

And for once, you don’t run.

You let the moment sit.

You let the warmth settle between you.

You breathe in deeply, not pushing him away, not hiding behind your walls. Just standing in the same space with him, finally acknowledging what’s been there for far too long.

It’s not much. But it’s enough.

[ssour-apathyy]

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ between moonlight and you

caitlyn kiramman x reader, tooth-rotting fluff! very brief mention of blood, kissing, reader gets a small injury, use of y/n

word count; 1,249

summary; a routine that you aren't mad about starting: being snuck into Caitlyn Kiramman's bedroom

a/n; oh to be a young woman in the arms of Caitlyn Kiramman. also "hot chocolate" is what brits call cocoa (?) just an fyi. warm chocolate drink. that thing

The night air was cool and crisp. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a soft glow over the city of Piltover. The streets were unusually quiet, save for the occasional passing of an enforcer on patrol.

The Kiramman mansion was large and imposing, and there was once a time that it would send a chill through your body, and a twist in your gut. Recent events, though, had resulted in the building causing your stomach to flip for a different reason.

You had waited by the tall, imposing fence for what felt like hours now, your heart thumping wildly in your chest every time an enforcer got a little too close, causing you to dip behind the pillar. You squinted up at the moon, checked it's position with your hands, and made your move. The bars were a little slippery thanks to the dewey air, but you were becoming a seasoned pro at scaling the metal. Slinging yourself over the top, you winced a little as one of the spikes caught your thigh, tearing your pants and nicking your skin.

You let out a little hiss as you landed, quickly checking the damage before moving forward, re-tracing the all-too familiar path in your head. You dipped into a small space between two perfectly sculped hedges just as two enforcers passed by, waited 10 seconds, and continued on your way.

Once you got to the spot below the window, you took a little pebble from out of your pocket and threw it, the stone bouncing off the glass with a quick tap. You waited, and waited, shuffling your feet a little awkwardly as you glanced around to make sure the coast was still clear.

The sshhhhtt sound of the window sliding open caught your attention, and you looked up to see Caitlyn peering down at you. "You're late" she whisper-yelled, arching an eyebrow.

You gave her a sheepish grin, gesturing down at the torn material. "I had a... uh, mishap."

Her eyes gave you a once-over before she rolled them, a smile taking over her face as she leaned away from the window. She was only out of view for a moment before the makeshift rope-ladder cascaded down the side of the building. You grasped hold of it and ascended, taking hold of the hand she offered to help you inside.

She moved quickly, pulling the ladder up and sliding the window shut, the room falling into a comfortable silence after the soft thud of it closing. The room was dimly lit by the lamp to the side, the grand marble pillars causing long shadows to dance across the walls. The first time you entered it was intimidating, but now there was nowhere that you felt more comfortable.

You were drawn out of your thoughts by warm hands sliding around your waist, settling to wrap across your stomach. You smiled to yourself as Caitlyn hugged you from behind, resting her chin on top of your shoulder. "I missed you" she confessed, her voice soft and hushed.

You breathed out a soft laugh, leaning yourself back into her touch. "You saw me a few days ago" you teased, resting your hands over the top of hers and tilting your head to look at her.

She mirrored your movement, her nose brushing against your own as she turned to look at you. The look in her eyes made your breath hitch in your throat, the air growing heavier — as if the entire world had shrunk down to the space between you. Her eyes traced over your face, drinking you in as if she was committing every line and bend to memory, and in that moment — you felt infinite.

"A few days is too long" she murmured, lifting one hand to cup your face and softly drag her thumb across your cheek bone. She tilted upwards, and your eyes fluttered shut as she pressed her lips to the space between your eyebrows. It was sweet, tender, and caused every muscle in your body to relax as you basked in her affection.

She took a half step back and grasped your hand tightly in hers, pulling you with her as she led you to her large bed. She maneuvered you to sit at the end and knelt down in front of you, moving your leg to the side slightly so she can take a look at where the fence caught you.

Her eyebrows creased as she spotted the small dribble of blood, and she delicately swiped it away with her thumb. "Are you hurt?" she breathed out, the warmth from her palm seeping through the material.

You shook your head. "No. S'just a scratch" you mumbled, cupping her cheek with your hand and drawing her gaze back up to you with a soft smile.

Caitlyn slowly surged upwards and took your bottom lip between her own, kissing you with such softness that it caught you off guard. You held her face between both your hands as you flopped backwards against the soft sheets, pulling her with you as she took the opportunity to crawl up your body and settle herself on your waist.

The way Caitlyn kissed you was intoxicating. It was slow and steady — assured — like you had all the time in the world and there was nowhere else that she'd rather be than with her lips on yours. It was full of hunger, but not the hurried and all-consuming kind that you'd often find associated with foreplay, no. There was no expectation here. Kissing you wasn't just a gateway to something more, Caitlyn would happily spend hours like this, slotting your lips together like they were designed to fit perfectly.

She pulled away from your mouth to pepper kisses across your chin, pressing her lips to the underside of your jaw as you let out a breathy laugh. She mimicked your sound, pulling away from your skin to gaze down at you with a sultry smile, slowly leaning back in to—

Knock Knock Knock

Caitlyn pressed one finger against your mouth and bit her lip, sitting back up on top of you.

"Caitlyn" her mother's voice echoed through the solid doors, and your heart pounded in your chest as you prayed to Janna that they didn't creak open.

"Yes?" she called back without a single waver in her voice. It was always impressive how she could switch on when she needed to, as if she wasn't straddling a girl that she had snuck into her room, and wasn't just inhaling your soul through your mouth five seconds ago.

"There is hot chocolate ready for you downstairs, come and get some before it gets cold" Cassandra called out from behind the, thankfully, still closed doors. It was quiet for a moment, and you thought maybe that she had already left.

"and there is a spare mug for your — friend — too" she added, before you heard her footsteps fade down the hallway.

It was like slow motion as Caitlyn turned to look back down at you with a gleam in her eyes. Your lips were parted below her finger, eyes as wide as saucers as you choked out a disbelieving laugh.

"Nothing gets past that woman" she grumbles, her lips quirking upwards. You let out another soft laugh, firmer than the last, and she follows you down into a fit of giggles. Both of you laughing together, as she moves her hand from your face and leans down to kiss you again.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Over and Over Again

Remus Lupin x Muggle!Reader

Summary: The legend of soulmates and the myth of endless lives tied to one another permanently was once a myth you don't believe. Until you met Remus Lupin.

WC: 4k

CW: Angst no comfort- The reader and Remus's depiction crosses gender and species lines. Hogwarts Legacy reference. Animal death and blood- so much death-

The pub smelled of stale beer and cigarette smoke, the kind of scent that lingered in the wood and clung to the air, no matter how many windows were cracked open. The low hum of music played from an old jukebox in the corner, the neon glow of its lights flickering with age.

It was familiar, comforting in a way that only a Muggle pub on a Friday night could be.

You spun your drink in your hands, watching the ice swirl lazily in your glass as Lily Evans leaned against the table beside you. She looked radiant as always, her fiery red hair gleaming under the dim lights.

“I swear,” She promised for the fifth time. “You're going to love them. Just… be nice to Peter, and for the love of Merlin, don’t ask Sirius about his family.”

You frowned. “For the love of Merlin?”

Lily’s lip twitched.. “Ah- Just… an expression. The boys use it a lot.”

You raised an eyebrow but let it go. Lily had always been a little odd, but she was your odd, your best friend since childhood.

She had been gone for the last few years, tucked away in that mysterious boarding school she never let you visit. Every time she came back to visit, she seemed… different. Like she was carrying secrets she could never fully explain.

Tonight was the first time she was introducing you to her boyfriend- James- and his friends. You had spent years watching her fall out of the abusive cycle of friendship she harbored with Severus Snape- you almost felt bad for him. If only he'd grown up too.

You had, in equal turn, been berated with letters about the slimeball that was James Potter. Just to see her ink blots lighten and her words becoming more fond when it came to his name- you were excited to meet him.

You took another sip of your drink, then looked up as the door to the pub swung open.

A burst of laughter and energy filled the pub as a group of four young men stepped inside, shaking off the damp chill of the London evening.

You saw James first, instantly recognizing him from the photos Lily had shown you. He was all messy hair and glasses, grinning like he owned the world- but the way his gaze immediately sought out Lily made your heart warm.

Then there was Sirius Black, effortlessly handsome, carrying himself with the swagger of someone who knew he could have anyone he wanted, but still acted like he was above it all. His dark leather jacket and roguish smirk screamed trouble.

Beside him was Peter Pettigrew, shorter than the rest, with darting eyes and an almost nervous energy, like he was waiting for something to go wrong.

And then there was the fourth boy- no- man.

The second your eyes landed on him, it was like the entire world narrowed.

Remus Lupin.

He was quieter than the others, his posture a little more reserved. He wasn’t as flashy as James or Sirius but something was still there.

Something in the way he held himself- not quite shying away, but not fully stepping into the spotlight either. His soft sandy blonde hair was slightly tousled, as if he had run his hands through it too many times. His face was lean, cheekbones sharp beneath tanned skin, marred by faint scars that ran across his features. But it was his eyes that caught you.

Warm, golden-brown, and filled with something ancient, something tired, something achingly familiar. Your stomach flipped.

Lily’s voice jolted you from whatever spell had momentarily trapped you.

“Come on,” She squeaked, tugging you forward with a grin. “Let me introduce you.”

Your legs felt unsteady as you followed her through the crowded pub, weaving between groups of laughing strangers. The boys turned as you approached, James immediately scooping Lily into a hug and pressing a kiss to her temple. You barely registered it.

Your focus was on Remus, who was watching you with the strangest look you'd ever seen.

Somewhere between horror and intrigue.

Lily cleared her throat, oblivious to the strange, charged silence between you and Remus.

“Alright, boys,” she said, grinning. “This is her.”

James turned away from Lily just long enough to flash you a charming, lopsided smile. “The infamous childhood best friend!” He declared. “Blimey, I was starting to think you were just a legend.”

You let out a short laugh. “Well, I assure you, I’m very real.”

Sirius tilted his head, appraising you. “We’ll see about that,” he mused, then smirked. “The real question is- are you cool enough to be seen with us?”

“Oh, definitely not,” You deadpanned. “I’m a disgrace to all things cool.”

James barked out a laugh. “I like her!”

Lily rolled her eyes but was smiling.

Meanwhile, Remus hadn’t moved.

He was still looking at you, his expression unreadable. His eyes- those deep, golden eyes- seemed locked onto you, as if he was trying to piece something together, trying to solve something that had no answer.

You met his gaze.

“Remus.” He whispered and you muttered your own name back to him without a second thought. And he smiled, lifted his hand-

The moment your fingers brushed as you shook his hand- it happened.

A bolt of pure, electric familiarity shot through your body, rattling every bone in your frame. The pub melted away, the noise, the people, the dim glow of the jukebox- everything faded into a swirl of golden light and rushing wind.

The world around you vanished. The dim pub, the chatter, the clinking of glasses- all of it was swallowed by the sudden rush of something else. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the rustling of leaves, the whisper of wind through tall golden grass. The scent of fresh earth, sun-warmed fields, and damp fur filled your senses.

And then, you were there…

You were small, swift, your body light as you darted between the tall stalks of wheat. A fox, red-furred and wild, your sharp nose twitching as you ran through the fields.

And behind you, paws pounding against the earth, was him.

A hound.

Lanky, golden-furred, and young, still growing into his paws. His ears flopped when he ran, tongue lolling as he chased after you, barking playfully.

He was supposed to hunt you. But instead, he chased you.

Every day, when his master wasn’t looking, he sneaked away from the farmhouse, bounding over the hills to find you. Together, you would race through the fields, rolling in the wildflowers, playing until the sun dipped below the trees.

Free, weightless. Soft fur against rough wheat and playfully snapping jaws. Then- Pain. Sharp, sudden pain.

A snapping sound- cold metal clamping down around your hind leg. A trap.

You yelped, twisting, trying to free yourself, but it was tight, unrelenting. The more you pulled, the more it bit into your flesh, blood staining the grass beneath you.

And he- your hound- panicked.

He barked wildly, circling you, nudging you with his nose. He tried to paw at the trap, but he was just a dog- he couldn’t undo his master’s cruel work.

You whimpered, eyes wide, pleading. He threw his head back and howled, loud and desperate, as if somehow, that would bring help.

And help did come. But not the kind he wanted. The farmer arrived. Gun in hand.

The hound whimpered, barking frantically, placing himself between you and his master. But he was a dog. And a dog’s loyalty belonged to its owner. Even when his heart was breaking.

The farmer raised his rifle.

A deafening bang-

Darkness.

The darkness faded, but you didn’t wake up in the pub.

Instead, you were staring at your own reflection in a gilded mirror.

A face- not quite your own, but one you knew belonged to you.

Your hair was woven into delicate braids, strands of pearls threaded through like drops of moonlight. A soft silk gown pooled around you, its fabric cool against your skin. The weight of a crown sat heavy atop your head, a reminder of your fate- one you had never chosen, one you had never wanted.

And behind you- fingers grazing your bare shoulder as they fastened a necklace-

Was her.

Your Lupin.

But not as you knew him.

A woman, dressed in modest, elegant gowns, a lady-in-waiting, her golden-brown eyes lowered in the practiced deference of a servant.

But she was not just a servant.

She was your dearest friend. She was your first love.

She was the one who walked with you through moonlit gardens, whispering stories of ancient myths. The one who pressed flowers into the pages of your books, so that when you opened them, they smelled like spring.

She was the one you could never have.

Not in the way you wanted. Not in the way that made your chest ache, that made your fingers tremble when they brushed against hers, that made your heart scream for a different fate.

Not in the way that had offended your betrothed.

Not in the way that would get you both killed.

You turned in your chair, reaching for her.

Her fingers lingered at the nape of your neck, hesitant, uncertain, as if she wanted to stay there forever- but knew she could not.

She met your gaze in the mirror when you looked back.

Golden-brown eyes, filled with longing and sorrow.

She knew, too.

She had always known.

You swallowed against the lump rising in your throat. The distant sound of shouting, the clang of metal, the burning of the city below- it was getting louder.

“…Do you ever wish we could leave?” You whispered.

Her breath caught. A hesitation.

“…Every day,” She admitted. And your heart broke for her. For yourself.

For the life that could never be.

The chaos below grew closer- the sound of swords clashing, boots pounding up the castle steps. They were coming.

There was no time. No future. No way out.

Your fingers lifted, brushing against her cheek. Soft. Warm. Alive.

She sucked in a sharp breath, her lips parting slightly, her eyes flickering with fear, with need, with desperation-

And then you kissed her.

Not a soft thing. Not a hesitant thing.

But something urgent, something burning, something filled with the desperation of two lovers who knew they were out of time.

A kiss of fury, of grief, of love too big to be contained in a world too small for it.

She pulled you closer, her fingers digging into the silk of your gown, holding you, clutching you, clinging to you like she could tether herself to this moment, to you-

Then-

The doors burst open.

The room filled with shouting, with the gleam of blades, with the iron grip of soldiers as they stormed forward, tearing you apart.

You screamed, struggling against them, fighting, kicking, clawing, biting-

But your fate had already been sealed.

You saw her, your Lupin, your love, your heart, struggling, screaming your name, reaching for you-

And then- A soldier’s blade pierced your chest.

Cold. Sharp.

The world lurched, twisted- And then-

Darkness.

London was a city of smoke and gold. It was filth and grandeur, a place where the rich dined beneath glittering chandeliers while the poor shivered in the streets below.

And in the middle of it all- between the gas lamps and cobblestone alleys, between the choking smog and the perfume of wealth- you ran.

Your boots hit the pavement with a quiet rhythm, quick and light, barely making a sound as you weaved through the bustling crowds of Westminster Market. Your coat was patched and thin, your gloves fingerless, your stomach empty.

But that didn’t matter.

Because in your pocket, you now held a gold pocket watch.

Your lips curled in triumph. It was a beautiful thing- heavy, shining, the kind that belonged to someone important. Someone who wouldn’t even miss it.

Or so you thought.

Because just as you turned the corner into a shadowed alley, a hand closed around your wrist. Your breath caught.

Your instincts screamed at you to run, to fight, to flee-

But then you looked up. And your world shifted.

Him.

A man, tall and fine-boned, wrapped in an elegant dark coat. His hair was soft brown, windswept, his golden-hazel eyes piercing in the dim light. He was young, maybe only a few years older than you, but there was something about him that felt older- as if he had lived a hundred years before this moment.

And despite catching you red-handed, his expression wasn’t one of anger. No.

It was curiosity.

Amusement, even.

His grip loosened, just slightly. “You’re quick,” He panted, voice smooth as silk, his accent refined.

“Not quick enough, but still. Impressive.”

You swallowed, heart pounding against your ribs. “Let go of me.”

“You stole from me,” He pointed out.

You smirked. “You can afford it.”

He actually laughed at that, low and warm, before slowly prying his pocket watch from your fingers. But he didn’t let go of you. Instead, he tilted his head, studying you, like he was trying to place you. Like he had seen you before.

“…What’s your name?” He asked, softer now.

You hesitated. Giving your name was dangerous in your line of work. But something about him- something familiar, something achingly familiar- made you whisper it anyway. His lips parted slightly, his grip on your wrist faltering.

And then- he whispered his own name.

A strange, unspoken recognition passed between you.

Like a secret. Like a memory half-forgotten.

Weeks Passed.

And somehow, against all reason, you kept finding him.

Or perhaps, he kept finding you. He was wealthy, but he was not cruel. A scholar, an artist, a man who saw the world in soft strokes of poetry and charcoal sketches.

And despite your differences- a boy from the slums and a gentleman of high society- you kept returning to him. Perhaps because he never treated you like a criminal.

He treated you like something else entirely. Something important.

Something he was afraid of losing.

One night, beneath the glow of gas lamps, you let him trace the lines of your face with careful fingers.

“You keep looking at me like you know me,” you murmured. His lips parted, breath shallow.

“…Maybe I do.”

And then, before either of you could think- You kissed him. The world tilted, time stretched thin between you, and for a moment, it felt like something had finally fallen into place.

Like this had happened before.

Like it had happened a thousand times before.

But fate, cruel as always, was waiting. Because London was not kind to men like you. It was not kind to pickpockets caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was not kind to a street thief who had stolen more than just coins and watches- who had stolen the heart of a man who should never have looked his way.

You never saw it coming.

One moment, you were running through the streets, laughing, alive- and the next, the constables had you by the collar, dragging you through the mud.

You never had the chance to say goodbye.

They didn’t let him see you before the sentencing. But he was there when they dragged you to the gallows.

And as the noose was slipped around your throat, you searched the crowd- desperate, desperate to find him.

And you did.

His face was pale, his hands clenched into fists, his golden-brown eyes filled with helpless horror. You had seen that look before.

The executioner read your crimes. You kept your eyes on Remus.

And in that final moment- As the platform dropped beneath your feet- As the world fell away- As you left him behind.

You thought you heard him scream.

Then, darkness.

Then- you were back home, in Feldcroft. The sun setting outside the small cottage, casting warm, golden light across the wooden floors. The air smelled of burning wood and herbs, a familiar scent- one that had lingered in your childhood.

And you?

You were at the table, a book in hand, curled up in your favorite chair. The world was quiet. Peaceful. But then-

Hands suddenly gripped your shoulders.

You gasped, nearly dropping your book- only to be met with a familiar grin, a familiar laugh, full of mischief and warmth.

“Sebastian!” You scolded, playfully swatting at him. “You scared me half to death!”

He only grinned wider, stepping back before tossing something small into your hands. A shrivelfig.

“For you,” he said with a wink. “It’ll make you stronger, you know.”

Before you could reply, another hand snatched it away.

“Absolutely not,” Solomon Sallow’s stern voice cut through the air. Your uncle gave Sebastian a look of pure warning, his eyes sharp with disapproval. “She doesn’t need you sneaking around with magic. She needs rest. A shrivel Fig cannot reverse a curse.”

Sebastian scoffed, his jaw tightening. “She needs more than just rest, Uncle. If we’d just-”

Your heart clenched. You had heard this argument a hundred times before.

Sebastian’s obsession with finding a cure.

Solomon’s desperate attempts to keep him away from dark magic.

And you- caught in the middle, growing weaker by the day.

A sudden wave of pain shot through you. You winced, gripping the table, your breath hitching. Immediately, Sebastian was at your side, one hand on your shoulder, concern darkening his features.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, voice urgent. “Are you alright?”

Solomon tensed, his gaze hardening. “Do you see what I mean, boy?”

Sebastian’s eyes flashed with anger. “I wouldn’t-”. But Solomon was already dragging him toward the door.

“Enough,” He snapped. “Outside. Now.”

Sebastian gritted his teeth but followed. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving the house in silence.

You exhaled shakily, closing your eyes.

And then- A presence. Someone still here. You opened your eyes-

And met his.

Remus. From Sebastian’s letters.

He was watching you from across the room, hesitation written in every tense line of his body. He hadn’t followed them outside. He had stayed.

Slowly, he stepped forward, then knelt down beside your chair. His golden-brown eyes, warm and steady, studied you, searching for something.

He reached out- then hesitated.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re alright,” He said softly.

The words unraveled you.

No one ever said it. No one ever acknowledged the truth- that you were dying. That it was okay. That you could be seen in the smallest of moments and the shortest of times- without needing to be fixed.

Sebastian fought against it.

Solomon ignored it.

But he saw it.

And somehow, that made it real. You swallowed hard. “I’m not pretending.”

He gave you a look, one that said he didn’t believe you.

Then, without another word- he sat beside you. And that was all.

At first, he was just a friend.

Sebastian had introduced him- a quiet but sharp-witted student, someone with more patience than most.

Someone who- unlike Sebastian- believed that saving you meant more than just breaking every rule. And yet, despite his caution, he couldn’t seem to stay away.

He would sit with you during your worst days, reading aloud from books when you were too weak to lift them yourself.

He would walk with you through Feldcroft, letting you lean against him when the world became too much.

And when Sebastian grew more reckless, diving further into dark magic, forbidden spells, anything that might bring you back from the brink-

Remus fought to hold him back.

But it wasn’t enough. Sebastian went too far. The darkness took root.

And even when he destroyed Solomon, even when he sacrificed everything- It still wasn’t enough.

But for Remus, no. For Remus it was enough. To sit by you, by the fire. To listen to you talk in your final moments. Your uncle gone and your brother lost to his mind.

He reached out and placed a hand over yours. And when your fingers interlocked, he sighed. Staring at the fire, until your fingers loosened around his hand.

Until, darkness.

The Pub, 1978

The world slammed back into place. The scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke filled your lungs, the dim glow of the jukebox flickered in your peripheral vision. Laughter and conversation hummed around you. The wood beneath your fingers was real. Solid. Present.

But your body? Your mind? You had been somewhere else.

Across from you, Remus was shaking.

His breath came quick, his golden-brown eyes blown wide- not with confusion, but recognition. His hand still hovered where it had just brushed against yours, his fingers trembling like they had touched something far more than skin.

Something ancient.

Something inevitable.

You knew him.

Not just from this pub. Not just from this life. You knew him from a hundred lifetimes ago. From the fox and the hound. From the princess and her lady-in-waiting. From the thief and the gentleman. From Feldcroft. From every time you had found him- and every time you had lost him.

And now?

Now you were back.

His lips parted slightly, a breathless sound escaping, like he wanted to say something- like he didn’t know what he could possibly say.

You swallowed, heart pounding, the weight of a thousand lives pressing against your ribs.

“Remus,” You echoed again.

His fingers curled into a fist. His entire body tensed. And then, just as you saw him understand, just as his expression shifted, just as the words I remember nearly fell from his lips-

The door to the pub slammed open.

The moment shattered.

And then?

He did nothing.

Because what could he do?

What could you do?

Say it out loud? Confess to an impossible truth? Tell him that you had died in his arms over and over again?

That this time- this life- he had to stop it?

So you didn’t say anything.

You just sat there. Staring at each other.

Breathing.

And for now, that had to be enough.

Because in every life before, you had never feared the darkness. Just the loss.

~~~

The Great Hall buzzed with conversation. The sorting ceremony had ended, students were chatting excitedly, the feast had just begun. Plates were piled high, goblets filled with pumpkin juice.

Across the room, Teddy Lupin laughed, running a hand through his hair, which shifted colors between turquoise and soft brown as he spoke. His friends chuckled at something he said, shoulders bumping together, the easy comfort of a childhood spent side by side.

Then-

A hand brushed against his.

His laughter stilled.

The world tilted.

It was nothing.

A casual moment, an accidental touch. A transfer student- someone new, someone unfamiliar- reaching across the table to pass a plate of pastries.

But the second their fingers touched-

A jolt.

Something cold and distant- like the echo of a dream he couldn’t quite recall.

Teddy’s fingers twitched. His breath hitched. The transfer student blinked, eyes flickering to his face, lips parting slightly, as if they had felt it too- as if they knew.

Teddy swallowed. His heart pounded.

And then-

He pulled his hand away.

Just a little too fast. Just a little too tense.

His friends didn’t notice. The conversation continued around them. But the transfer student frowned, staring down at their hand for a moment too long, brows furrowing, like they had just remembered something they weren’t supposed to.

Teddy flexed his fingers beneath the table.

His mind whispered something.

Something about foxes and hounds.

Something about princesses and Ladies.

Something about picked pockets.

Something about darkened pubs and stolen moments.

Something about a name.

A name that felt like his and not his, all at once.

The world lurched- but just for a second.

And then?

The moment passed.

Teddy shook his head, forced a smile, and reached for his goblet like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn’t just felt the weight of every life before this one.

Like he hadn’t just remembered exactly what came next.

[guhamun]

THE COMFORTABLE SILENCE THAT lingered, as well as the cold, nearly made Calcharo long to slip back beneath the covers to doze the morning away – a rarity for him when he so often functioned just fine with just a few hours of sleep. For a few fleeting seconds, he had even closed his eyes, just a few passing seconds, yet for someone like him who never did something like that around another person, that spoke volumes. Realizing what he had done, his eyes snapped open, a side glance given to Jiyan as if to see if he had caught him in his weakness. This wasn’t like him at all… He had rested a little, but hadn’t slept on the boat ride despite how it might have looked like he did. The entire time, he had been awake – taking in each sway of the boat, each bit of conversation exchanged between Jiyan and the guide…

     This was…different.

     He had been really ‘off’ since being here, it seemed, which in itself, was also not like him either. This was a thought he would have continued to mull over with greater scrutiny, if not for the sudden call on the General’s terminal. Who could this be so early in the morning? Something important? Downing what was rest of his now lukewarm coffee, he placed the empty cup down just as Jiyan and placed his terminal between them, the light on the device blinking a couple of times before a figure appeared. At first, he had thought that maybe it might be one of the Midnight Rangers from the mainland calling, or even the Lady Magistrate. He hadn’t been expecting to see the other’s mother, however. Her words for her rather stubborn son was enough to make his lips twitch slightly with amusement. Holding his tongue, he glanced off to the side, wondering if he should grant Jiyan some privacy so he could comfortably speak without another present. But before he could potentially act upon that particular thought, there was an awkward quiet that began to drag on, his gaze snapping back to the hologram.

     Ah…that stare…

     Even he was beginning to feel like fading away. ❝Good morning,❞ Calcharo finally spoke; tone polite as he offered his greetings. To say he wasn’t used to situations like this was would be an understatement. This would honestly be the first time that he had ever been around when someone’s mother called. She was looking at him so intensely too with those golden eyes in such a way that he could truly see how Jiyan was her son in every way. He felt as if he was suddenly placed under a microscope. ❝Hopefully, the weather over there is as pleasant as it is here.❞

Jiyan wished he could at least say he found Calcharo's relentless teasing exasperating, but he didn't. Not one bit. Hearing their laughter filled him with a warm and inexplicable sensation that made him giddy and made him want to smile instead of frowning at them. It truly made no sense but, then again, logic wasn't always present when it came to the mercenary leader.

Fortunately, he was quick to push those thoughts aside and concentrate on the documents he was given. His fingers itched for a pen to take a few small notes to later ask the Mayor about, but it was then that he realized that he didn't bring a notebook to the balcony, or to Mt. Firmament, to be more precise. And it was then that he glanced in the mercenary leader's direction as well. He could swear that they had just stirred, but perhaps it was just his imagination. But, instead of returning to the report he had been reading, his eyes lingered on the other man's visage for a few seconds. He has always thought Calcharo to be an attractive and beautiful man, even more so when they aren't frowning. It was rare, to see them so... calm. It was nice, in a way that made him want to stretch this very moment for a while longer, to pretend the day had yet to start, and perhaps wonder how it would be like if they got to do this more often.

But the rest of the town was stirring and waking as well, the sun was rising, and time didn't wait for anyone. He heard his terminal and when he saw who was calling, remembered a few details he completely forgot about the moment he set a foot on Mt. Firmament. The young general placed his terminal on the small desk between him and Calcharo and, after sighing to himself, accepted the video call.

"Reading documents this early in the morning, why am I not surprised?" Jiyan's mother hologram appeared and, even though she berated her son for thinking of work so early in the morning, she was wearing her white coat already. Like mother, like son. Before he could apologize, he was reminded that he promised to send pictures of Mt Firmament once he arrived. That he failed to do and while he wished to say he had been busy, he wasn't that busy. In fact, he had plenty of opportunities to take photos, but he didn't because... he glanced at Calcharo again, and it was then that his mother realized he wasn't alone.

A heavy silence followed that completely flew over Jiyan's head.

[yungistiny]

man on fire ═ chapter one

[ J. Yunho ]

chapter one: rebound

╚═════════

summary: yunho was hongjoong’s right hand man, his best dealer, his best racer, last thing yunho needed was to get distracted by a cop’s daughter

warning: possessive yunho, weed dealer yunho, stoner yunho, street racer yunho, corruption kink, size kink, use of drugs, dom yunho/sub reader, unprotected sex, creampie, choking, spanking, biting, yunho is hung, public sex, car sex

pairing: yunho x afab/reader

genre: smut, drama, angst, romance

word count: 5.7k

chapter two coming soon

chapter three coming soon

masterlist

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Y/N grew up in a strict household. Her dad being a cop her entire life made things as an adolescent a bit dreary.

The only brightness she had in that dreariness was her best friend, Park Seonghwa. His dad was also a cop, it’s how they had met. Their dads have been best friends since they were teenagers.

After Y/N dad met her mom while on vacation in California one year, he married her after only a month of knowing her and not a month later Y/N was on her way into the world.

Y/N dad, Kim Junmyeon, brought her mother back with him to Seoul where his best friend had already had a four month year old Seonghwa.

They had been best friends their entire lives. Y/N and Seonghwa did everything together. They even chose the same college to go to. Lived together. Even now, only a few months after college graduation, they were both going to start medical school in the fall.

Seonghwa was the reason why she was standing here now. Not that he was there himself but he was the reason she met him. It was Seonghwa that practically commanded, begged her to come with him to see his new boyfriend where she first saw him.

And now here she was, him on his knees, y/n back pressed against the wall in the half lit apartment. His hands, his large and beautifully skilled hands, had pushed her oversized shirt up to her stomach.

He was practically whimpering into her clothed and soaking cunt. His nose rubbing at the wet patch visible on the light gray boyshorts she had on.

Y/N reached down to grip at his dark black hair, tangling one hand into the longer strands at the nape of his neck and her other one gripping the top. “Please….” She was begging, voice so desperate.

A deep chuckle left him, almost taunting. He pulled back from her causing y/n to lose her grip on his hair. “Say it.” His voice so gruff, so much deeper than normal. Commanding her as he stood tall, towering over her against the wall.

His hands found hers, interlocking them together and raising her arms so he could pin them on the wall behind her. “Say it.” He repeated, lips brushing hers as he lent his head down to rest his forehead against her own.

Y/N looked up through her lashes to meet his dark gaze. Her answer came out breathless, a lustful and needy caress. “I’m yours.”

He smirked at her, a shadow of the light casting a glow on his face and he looked like a beautiful fallen angel. All dark and light at the same time. The most handsome face hiding the truth.

“Mine.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Y/N hissed, the pain erupting in the heel of her foot. “Hwa, watch the legos!l

Seonghwa looked up from where he sat on a couch pillow in the floor right against the white ikea coffee table where he was busy building the Millennium Falcon, legos strewn all over. He winced as she hopped on one foot and fell on the black pleather couch. “Sorry, y/n.”

“It’s like 10:30 in the morning and you’re already building that thing?” Y/N squinted her eyes at the blinding sun beaming through the two big windows. Seonghwa had just bought that lego set the night before. “It’s never too early for legos, y/n.”

Y/N hesitated, biting her bottom lip. She was anxious to tell her best friend what she had done the night before, the call she had made after they had gotten back from shopping. “I broke up with Han.”

Seonghwa paused, sitting his legos down and turning towards his best friend, eyes wide, shocked. Y/N had been with Han for three years. Seonghwa had tried many times to get her to leave the asshole but she didn’t listen. Y/N never listened. “Are you serious?”

“He cheated on me.” Y/N knew she should feel gutted, completely heartbroken but she didn’t feel anything. Truth is, she had stopped loving Han a long time ago. She just didn’t know how to break it off. “San caught him with some other girl at a club last weekend.”

“Y/N,” Seonghwa crawled up to sit next to her. “why didn’t you tell me?” Why hadn’t she dumped him as soon as she found out?

“I’ve wanted to leave him for a while now but I just didn’t know how…” She shrugged, rubbing her heel where it still ached a little from the lego she stepped on. “him cheating just gave me the perfect excuse.”

“You shouldn’t have had waited.” He scolded her. Seonghwa was glad y/n finally dumped Han but he’d still probably punch him in the face if he saw him again for cheating on her.

“Do you want to like have a romcom night and cry into some ice cream?” Seonghwa would certainly call and tell Hongjoong he’d couldn’t make it that night.

“No.” Y/N shook her head, truly, she was fine. “I’m ok, Hwa, I promise.” And she was and Seonghwa hesitated though, deciding he’d still give her a distraction. “You’re coming with me tonight to see Hongjoong.”

Y/N scrunched her face up in mock disgust. “Why would I want to come with you to fuck your boyfriend?”

Seonghwa smacked her lightly on the leg. “Shut up! That is not what we’re doing!” His face was flushed. “He has a race tonight.”

“A race?” Y/N arched a brow. “Are you talking about street racing?” She had heard of them, mainly from her dad complaining, it was a big underground thing here in Busan.

“Yes.” Seonghwa slid back down to the floor to continue with his legos. “Does he know your dad is a cop?” Y/N asked.

Seonghwa waved a hand in dismissal. “He doesn’t need to know that.”

“Seonghwa!” Y/N laughed sliding down to sit beside him and wincing when something stabbed her in the ass. “Ow!” Another stray lego.

Seonghwa laughed at her, pushing his long platinum dyed hair out of his face. “I’m sorry.”

“How many times have you been to one? A race?” Y/N was curious about them. What the scene of one looked like? “A couple of times.” Seonghwa answered, placing legos together with a focused gaze.

“I guess I have nothing else to do.” Y/N shrugged like she wasn’t a tad bit excited to see an actual street race. Growing up with their dads, the closest her and Seonghwa had ever gotten to anything dangerous and exhilarating was watching the Fast and Furious movies.

“Wear something hot.” Seonghwa grinned at her, bumping his shoulder with hers. “There’s a bunch of hot guys there.”

“I’m not going on the rebound, Hwa.” Y/N rolled her eyes. She was not jumping into bed with someone else anytime soon.

“You need to. It’s the perfect distraction and, it’s fun!” Seonghwa smirked at her, y/n had only ever been with Han and when she lost her virginity to Song Mingi in high school.

“Hongjoong has a lot of hot friends.” He was teasing her now. “First, there’s Yunho, he’s like…. his right hand man. Then, there’s Jongho….. I’m not sure what Jongho is….. muscle?”

“Hwa, enough.” Y/N shoved him. “I am not going to try and hook up with anyone. And I don’t need a rebound, no distractions.” She huffed, letting out a deep breath. “I’m fine.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Y/N had decided to dress in some dark washed jean short shorts, a black lace cropped tank top and black combat boots. It was summer and the heat was just as hot at night as it was during the day.

“I thought you said you didn’t want a rebound?” Seonghwa smirked at her as y/n walked out of her room ready to leave. “You look hot y/n.”

“I’m not.” It’s what she kept telling herself anyways. “Let’s go, it’s already after 11:00.” Apparently the racers liked to wait until late to start, the night life most likely giving a distraction.

Seonghwa drove towards the other side of the city around the old docks, where an old warehouse was located, half torn down fence and a long stretch of road just beside it.

Cars littered the entire acre. Music blasted from speakers, lights gleamed and flashed colors from within the old warehouse.

“Who owns this place?” Y/N encircled her arm with Seonghwa’s, eyeing all the cars, the details and colors as they walked up towards the warehouse.

“I have no idea.” Seonghwa shrugged, spotting Hongjoong standing beside his car talking in hushed tones with Yunho.

Yunho was tall, well 6ft and over. Black hair shaggy, a small gap displaying his forehead, short but a little longer in the strands that touched the back of his neck. His left ear that was on display was decorated with piercings. He wore a black blazer with the sleeves rolled up, a white plain shirt with Dior written in small black letters on the right side of the chest. His jeans were dark, a rip in the knee of the left one ending with black converse on his feet.

Y/N admired the red car that Hongjoong stood beside, though she herself couldn’t tell you what brand a car was let alone the model. She didn’t even know what model her own car was. That wasn’t exactly her expertise.

Yunho’s sharp gaze caught site of them first, whispering something to Hongjoong and nodding his head towards Seonghwa.

Hongjoong was shorter then Seonghwa, something y/n found humor in because though Hongjoong wasn’t much taller then herself, he was very intimidating but he always seemed to melt around y/n best friend.

Y/N watched Hongjoong try not to smile lovesick at Seonghwa but he couldn’t help it. “I thought you weren’t gonna make it in time. You did say you wanted to ride with me. My race is next.”

Y/N stared at her best friend, shocked. “You’re gonna ride with him? Seonghwa, you start freaking out when I drive over the speed limit.”

“Shut up, y/n!” Seonghwa gaped at her as Hongjoong smirked at him. He could see Yunho and Jongho snickering from where they stood beside Yunho’s car. “I do not.” Lies.

Y/N shook her head at her best friend as two cars came speeding into view. A black sleek car stopped first, a guy with dyed red hair jumping out and cheering, running up towards Hongjoong. “I told you! Rich kid talked all that shit and I still beat his ass!”

The other car, a familiar white one, squealed tires as it came to a stop beside the black one. Y/N froze, spinning around to avoid the guy that stepped out of it, clearly pissed off as he stomped up towards Hongjoong.

Y/N shoved her way past people, bumping into some as she tumbled into a body. “Whoah,” hands steadied her, large hands, pretty hands. The voice was deep yet melodic. Soothing. Her vision stared at a chest, leaning her head back to look up at the tall, and really big, guy.

“Sorry.” Y/N mumbled because suddenly she was very distracted. The guy had to of been the hottest guy she’d ever seen, certainly to her anyways.

Seonghwa was searching for her, he was shocked, instantly looking for his best friend the second her cheating ex boyfriend snatched Wooyoung by the shoulder. “You fucking cheated!” Han exclaimed.

Wooyoung glared at him, sneering. “I don’t cheat.” He practically hissed at him like a cat. “It’s not my fault daddy bought you a fancy car you don’t know how to use.”

The crowd laughed only seeming to infuriate Han more. “I want a rematch.” He demanded.

“Fuck that.” Wooyoung scoffed, shaking his head. “I beat you fair and square. Stop whining about it.”

“I’ll race him.”

Y/N stiffened in the tall strangers hold, his voice gruff when he spoke now, smirking above her towards where she could only assume her ex was standing.

Wooyoung laughed almost manically and Hongjoong grinned. “Yunho will race you.”

Yunho, y/n recognized his name from earlier that day when Seonghwa was naming some of Hongjoong’s friends. “First, there’s Yunho, he’s like…. his right hand man.”

Yunho released his hold on her, sending y/n a once over, gaze dark, before moving towards her ex boyfriend. Y/N made sure to keep herself hidden within the crowd.

Han gulped as Yunho towered over him, not that he would ever let Hongjoong’s lackey intimidate him. “Whatever.” He spat, turning and storming back to his car to wait.

Wooyoung accepted a wad of cash from Hongjoong, his winnings for the night before going to move his own car out of the way so Yunho could pull his out.

“Y/N!” Seonghwa found her, eyes wide. “I had no idea he would be here.” Han had never been there the times Seonghwa had been, neither himself or y/n knew he raced.

“It’s fine, I’d just rather not face him right now.” Y/N groaned, leaning against a car, shaded the darkest blue, almost black yet when the light hit the paint just right a flash of emerald glittered.

“Sorry, sweetheart…” Yunho was suddenly in front of her causing y/n to jump a little startled. “kind of need my car.” He gave her the most boyish, charming smile, a stark contrast towards his presence before.

Seonghwa looked back and forth between them and was grinning as y/n stumbled over an apology, moving herself away from Yunho’s car. He had never seen his best friend so flustered before.

Hongjoong walked up to them, a serious look on his face. “Yunho,” he stood beside Seonghwa, Yunho pausing with his hand on the roof of his car, driver’s door open, waiting. “Smoke em.”

Yunho smirked, a cocky, arrogant smirk. “Of course.” He never lost a race. He was Hongjoong’s best driver. Everyone that came to the docks dreaded having to face him. It was basically an automatic defeat.

“I swear,” a new voice interrupted them as Yunho got into his car, pulling it out to drive and park beside Han. “I’m gone for a few minutes and everything turns to chaos.”

“Come on, Jongho,” Hongjoong smirked at him. “Yunho’s about to beat the rich kid, send him home crying to daddy.”

Y/N was sure they had no idea how true their jokes about Han were. He was a rich kid and definitely got by on his dad’s money. Or maybe they did really know who he was. “I for one cant wait to see Han get his ass beat.”

Y/N elbowed Seonghwa lightly in the side. “Hwa.” She scolded him, though she too was anticipating Yunho sending him home in a fit. “You know him?” Hongjoong arched a brow, looking between Seonghwa and Y/N.

Y/N sighed, folding her arms across her chest as Wooyoung stood between Yunho and Han’s cars, arms raised high. “He’s my ex.” As soon Wooyoung dropped his arms, Yunho was already leaving Han behind, his car long out of vision in no time.

“He’s an asshole.” Hongjoong stated as the crowd cheered around them. “Yunho gonna make him cry.” Jongho snorted, holding a hand out to y/n. “I don’t believe we’ve met, Choi Jongho.”

Jongho was handsome, short dark hair, tan skin and an almost cute, innocent smile. He also looked strong, really strong. “Y/N. I’m Seonghwa’s best friend.”

“He’s mentioned you before…” Wooyoung interrupted them, flicking his tongue out to lick at his lip ring, the lighting catching a glare off of his eyebrow piercing. “never said how hot you were though.”

“You are just…” Jongho shoved him, shaking his head in amusement. “not subtle at all.”

“Ignore them.” Hongjoong smiled at her. “I do.”

Y/N watched as Jongho had grabbed Wooyoung in a headlock, both of them playfully fighting like two kid brothers.

“So how long does this take?” Everyone was just waiting around, y/n was so blinded by movies, she expected to be cameras or something showing them the race. Not… well… this. Maybe that’s why Seonghwa wanted to ride with Hongjoong? See the action, feel the adrenaline of it first hand.

“With Yunho racing?” Hongjoong shrugged. “I give it another minute, two tops.” So he was fast, skilled and fast is what Hongjoong was saying.

Really fast because the headlights of Yunho’s car could already be seen, the motor and exhaust loud as he came to a speeding stop at the makeshift finish line. Han’s car nowhere to be seen yet.

“What I say?” Hongjoong was grinning as Yunho stepped out of his car, a matching grin in his own face as Wooyoung ran to him, throwing himself at him as the crowd cheered.

“Hongjoong,” a new voice spoke up, this one friendly. “We’re next!”

“I got you, Taeyong.” Hongjoong nodded at Taeyong, who was about the same height as him with striking dyed green hair, covered in tattoos under the simple black tank top he wore. “Come on.” Hongjoong grabbed Seonghwa’s hand, tugging himself along towards his car.

“Hey,” Jongho noticed the slight panic on y/n face as her best friend started to leave. “you can just hang with me until they get back.”

“Thanks.” Y/N gave him a genuine smile, grateful she wouldn’t be left alone.

Han’s car finally caught up, grinding to a break stop. He slammed his door shut as he stormed up to Yunho. “What the fuck do you have under that hood? No one is that fast!”

Yunho smirked at him, staring down as Wooyoung and the crowd laughed. “I am.”

“Yunho.” Hongjoong handed him an envelope, his payment, most of it money right out of Han’s pocket. “Taeyong, let’s go!”

Y/N stood with Jongho, watching Yunho get back in his car, pulling it back into the spot he had originally had it parked at before as Hongjoong and Taeyong pulled their cars up next to each other, a friendly race this time.

She could see Seonghwa hesitating before finally shaking his head and getting into the passenger seat. Han sent one last glare at Yunho before getting back in his car, reversing and speeding off.

Wooyoung once again stood between two cars, arms raised high, this time he was giggling as he yelled, “GO!”

“Dude!” Jongho clapped Yunho on the shoulder, having to reach a little. “You literally left his ass to catch up.”

Yunho bit his bottom lip, holding back a cocky grin. “He shifted too soon, hit his nos too soon, it was sad really, almost felt bad.”

Jongho laughed and y/n had no idea what any of that meant but Han deserved the defeat. “Y/N, how’d you date that asshole?” Jongho asked, Yunho looking at her curiously now.

“You dated him?” Yunho once again trailed his gaze over her, Jongho holding back a smirk as his friend and roommate, practically devoured y/n with his dark gaze. Yunho was always intimidating to others, to those that didn’t truly know him.

Y/N felt naked under his gaze, face flushed. Seonghwa certainly wasn’t lying when he said Hongjoong’s friends were hot. “I’d rather not… talk about my asshole ex boyfriend.”

“You know what…” Jongho jumped in, changing the subject. “I don’t believe you two have officially met.” He slung an arm around y/n shoulders, a friendly gesture and nothing more. “Y/N, this is Yunho. Yunho, this is Seonghwa’s best friend, Y/N.”

Yunho arched a brow, really smirking now. Because he knew her, well, of her. Seonghwa had mentioned her on many occasions, though he never mentioned how beautiful she was.

“Celebratory BLUNT!” Wooyoung bounded up to them, giddy pulling a blunt from behind his ear. Y/N eyed the rolled leaf, dark in his hand as Wooyoung placed it between his lips, pulling a black lighter from his pocket.

She’s never smoked weed before. She’d never done anything illegal before. How could she when her dad was a cop? Her gaze followed the rotation of the blunt as Wooyoung passed it to Yunho, smoke blowing through his nose.

Yunho took the blunt from Wooyoung, his gaze never lingering from y/n who’s eyes were now watching him as Yunho brought the blunt to his own lips, really plump cupids bowl lips y/n noticed.

Before Yunho could get a hit in, the crowd erupted into panic. “Shit! COPS!”

Y/N’s eyes widened, heart pounding in her chest as she began to panic. Seonghwa’s car was still here and she didn’t have the keys! Seonghwa and Hongjoong weren’t even back from the race yet. “Jongho, Seonghwa’s car is still here, I don’t have the keys!”

Yunho dug into his pocket, pulling out his own keys. “Jongho,” he tossed them at him. “get my car out of here.”

Jongho looked nervous and excited at the idea of driving Yunho’s car.

“Come on.” Yunho grabbed y/n hand, his larger one encasing her entire one as he lead her through the crowd towards Seonghwa’s car.

The alarm went off and Yunho cursed at the car being locked, the police sirens growing louder the closer they got. Glass shattered and y/n jumped startled.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” She yelled as Yunho had knocked out the driver’s side window of Seonghwa’s car, the alarm blaring even louder. Yunho unlocked the door, yanking it open, quickly brushing glass out the seat. “I’ll replace it for him.”

Y/N just stood there frozen for a split second before Yunho unlocked the passenger door, pushing it open for her. “Get in.”

She jumped, the police cars now coming into view as she scrambled into the car, slamming the door shut. “Put your seatbelt on.” Yunho had yanked a bunch of wires loose under the steering wheel, the alarm silencing before the engine cranked, hot wiring Seonghwa’s car.

Yunho put the gearshift into drive and as soon as y/n had situated herself in the seat, seatbelt clicking, his foot was on the gas and speeding down the road at a speed y/n didn’t think Seonghwa’s car could go.

Y/N gripped one of the grab handles as tightly as she could as Yunho shifted the gear, the sharp turn he took causing her to slide a little and she was thankful now he told her to put her seatbelt on.

The scenery around them was a blur giving y/n whiplash when Yunho suddenly slowed down, backing the car slowly into a dark alley just on the outskirts of the city. He turned the car lights off, the darkness of the alleyway casting a shadow just enough to camouflage them from view as two police cars sped by non the wiser.

Yunho waited, one hand on the wheel, fingers tapping in the silence. “Do you….” Y/N heart was racing so fast she was sure she would pass out. “do you think they saw the car?”

Yunho didn’t answer her, slowly pulling the car back out of the alley, turning the headlights back on and pulling onto the main road again, blending with the traffic back across the Gwangan Bridge.

Y/N had no idea where they were going as she felt her phone start to vibrate in her small pocket on her shorts. She pulled the phone out, unlocking it and answering the call from Seonghwa.

“Y/N, are you ok? By the time we got back you and my car were gone! How did you start it, I have the keys…” Seonghwa was rambling, something he always did when he was scared or nervous.

“Hwa, breathe.” Y/N could tell he was shaken up by his breathless tone. “I’m fine. I’m with Yunho, he’s the one who started your car.” She left out how and the broken window.

Seonghwa sighed in relief on the other end of the call. “We’re at Hongjoong’s garage but, I’m sure Yunho already knows that.”

Y/N casted a sideways gaze towards Yunho who was flipping the blinkers on with one hand while lazily steering the steering wheel with his other. She found he was very attractive at everything he did. “Yeah…” She had no idea if Yunho actually was heading to Hongjoong’s garage. “I’ll see you when we get there.”

The rest of the drive was silent except for the wind blowing in through the broken window. Hongjoong’s garage stuck out with a bright neon sign that read Outlaw Customs.

Yunho pulled Seonghwa’s car inside the brightly lit garage, right beside Yunho’s own car that Jongho had successfully gotten away in, thankfully without a scratch.

Y/N unbuckled her seatbelt, gaze catching sight of the gun peeking out the waistband of Yunho’s pants as he stepped out of the car. Why would he have a gun?

“Jongho,” Yunho pointed at him as he examined his car. “you better be glad.” He noted as his car was still in perfect shape.

Jongho feigned hurt, hand over his heart. “I am an excellent driver.”

“What happened to my window?” Seonghwa was staring at his car in horror. “Umm… Yunho said he would fix it.” Y/N didn’t really know what else to say, her best friend was just staring at his car with his mouth opened.

“It was either break into or leave it there.” Yunho patted him on the back. “I’ll fix it tomorrow.” He promised which only seemed to calm Seonghwa down just a little.

“Yunho.” Hongjoong’s voice cut in, it was much more authoritative when he spoke now. Yunho headed towards where he stood at a door labeled Outlaws Only.

“I made brownies!” Wooyoung was beaming with mischief in his eyes. “You want some?” He asked them and Hongjoong gave him a hard stare. “What?” Wooyoung pouted.

“Get in.” Hongjoong seemed to command it, looking towards Jongho next. “Jongho.”

Jongho dragged his feet on his way there, not in a mood for one of Hongjoong’s scoldings and his captain looked pissed since he had gotten back to the garage.

The door shut behind Hongjoong once they were all inside. A window gave only a glimpse of them inside before Jongho shut the blinds with a roll of his eyes.

“What are they doing?” Y/N asked Seonghwa only to be answered by another voice. “Club meeting.” The voice belonged to probably one of the most pretty men y/n had ever seen. His hair was jaw length, wavy and dyed a dark red. He had a birthmark right next to his left eye and wore a dark navy blue mechanic uniform that was covered in grime and grease.

“Club?” Y/N furrowed her brows together. “You know, the racers.” The stranger answered her as he walked to a sink, washing his hands. There was something in the way he said racers though, almost like it held an underlying meaning.

“Are you not a racer?” Y/N followed him, Seonghwa hot on her heels. The stranger laughed, drying his hands. “No. I’m just a mechanic, I’m Yeosang.”

Yeosang turned out to be fun to talk to, he kept herself and Seonghwa company, even bringing them some bottles of soju as they waited on the others.

Y/N found out that Yeosang was Wooyoung’s best friend and roommate. Apparently they had been best friends since they were 7 years old after Wooyoung bit him and declared it so.

By the time the others finally reemerged, both y/n and Seonghwa were a little tipsy. Yeosang too was flushed in the face, throwing his head back as he took another shot.

“Shots without me?” Jongho gasped, snatching up a bottle and a shot glass and pouring himself one.

Y/N could smell something, something herbal and burning. Wooyoung had lit a blunt, starting a rotation around the table everyone was suddenly crowded at.

Her gaze shamelessly landed on Yunho who stood across from her, she was sure the boldness came from the alcohol in her system. Y/N followed his fingers, they were so long and looked calloused yet delicate at the same time as he brought the blunt to his lips.

He was staring at her and y/n felt her arms prickle with goosebumps under his dark gaze as he exhaled smoke through his nose.

Her heart was racing and she was starting to think Seonghwa was right, she could use a distraction.

She poured herself another shot of soju and then another as everyone too began to drink. Now, y/n wouldn’t say she was drunk, maybe she was, but so was everyone else.

Seonghwa had disappeared with Hongjoong somewhere a while ago and Wooyoung was passed out beside Yeosang on a worn out brown couch on the far side of the garage. Jongho had disappeared up the same stairs to a second floor that Seonghwa and Hongjoong had.

Y/N was clumsily walking around the garage, the main lights were turned off, the doors all closed. Light from the outside night life bled through the blinds on the windows.

A loud curse caused y/n to jump, startled from the half drunken daze she was in. Yunho was digging around in his car, the drivers door open as he was hunched down in the front.

Y/N had thought he had disappeared upstairs with the others as she hadn’t seen him in a minute, since Yeosang had stumbled over to pass out beside Wooyoung.

There’s a lot of things y/n has blamed on alcohol consumption. That time her and Seonghwa were in high school and her mom’s bird flew out of the house. Y/N had told her she had no idea a window was open. That time she had called Han a self centered asshole in front of everyone at Seonghwa’s birthday party earlier that year, though it was every bit true.

And now, she would blame her actions for which she has found herself, straddling Yunho’s lap in the passenger seat of his car, the seat tilted as far back as it would go. His hands were gripping her ass as she grinded against his still clothed bulge in his pants.

Y/N shorts were long tossed into the backseat of the car along with her tank top leaving her in just her simple black bra and a pair of mix matched dark red panties. Panties that was soaked with her arousal.

Yunho too had drank, not a lot but certainly enough to have him buzzed, plus he had smoked a few blunts so he was encased in a high as well, one thing registering though….. he needed to have y/n. He wanted to fuck her the moment he saw her, even more when he found out she was Han’s ex, Yunho had felt petty.

“You’re so fucking wet.” His voice was deep and gruff, husky and filled with desire that made y/n moan as she felt him reach his hand down, feeling at the wet patch on her panties.

“I need to be inside you right now.” Yunho let y/n grind herself against his hand as he leaned forward, kissing at her neck. “Please…” her breathless plea had him digging in the glovebox for a condom, he always had a few lying around.

Y/N reached down to unzip him, her hands searching for his length hidden in his boxers, pulling him free and practically whimpering at the size of him. He was big and she briefly wondered if he’d fit but didn’t care, she’d make him fit.

Yunho tore the condom wrapper open with his teeth, spitting the top half out to land somewhere in the car. Y/N grabbed the condom from him, her hands eager to glide the rubber onto him.

A growl escaped him at finally being touched, the glide of y/n smaller, much smaller, hands down his dick. Yunho snatched his blazer off, tossing it into the back, gripping y/n waist as he helped lift her, y/n pushing her own panties to the side as Yunho watched her sink herself onto him.

“Fuck…” y/n fell forward, hands tangling into Yunho’s hair as he stretched her, plunging deeper, filling her until he was fully buried inside her. His arms were wrapped around her, giving her a moment to adjust to him.

“Mhmm…” y/n couldn’t garner a comprehensive word in her body once Yunho started to move her, hands now gripping her waist, rocking her body back and forth. “Don’t go dumb on me now, sweetheart.” Yunho leaned his head towards her, tongue lapping at her throat, sucking at the flesh.

Y/N was moaning, loudly, her sinful noises echoing it seemed along with the lewd noises coming from Yunho bouncing her in his lap now, her clit making contact with his pubic bone every time.

“Holy shit…” Yunho had his face buried in the valley of her breasts. “this gotta be the best pussy I’ve ever had.” He was mumbling to himself but y/n heard him and clenched around him tightly.

“Talk to me.” Yunho was kissing at her jaw. Y/N reached a hand to tug at his hair and the other to grip at his throat which caused him to growl. There was only one thing on y/n mind at the moment. “You’re….. you’re so big….”

Yunho pulled her flushed against him, y/n grip on his throat tightening, making him moan. His arms wrapped around her. “You’re so fucking tight…. so fucking perfect the way you fit me, the way you take me…”

Y/N was suddenly moaning his name like a mantra when his dick repeatedly hit that spot buried deep inside her that had her a complete mess as her orgasm hit her like a storm as Yunho used his knees as leverage to pound up into her, his car rocking loudly.

Yunho swallowed her moaning screams with a kiss, y/n whimpering into his mouth as she made a mess all over him, his pants wet from her orgasm, squirting all over him and with the way she was pulling his hair and still gripping his throat, sent Yunho himself over the edge, filling the condom full.

They’re panting and breathless.

Yunho hoping to have her again.

Y/N feeling an adrenaline high.

Both of them quickly feeling a tug of addiction but chose to ignore it.

For now.

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permanent tag list: @straycat420 @dejatiny @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @hannahlilibet411 @dawn-iscozy @milkfromacow @pearltinyy @hoe4yunho @cosmicrecs

[wisteriasymphony]

Chloe had knocked over Marinette's tray at lunch earlier that day. It wasn't anything new, just like the way Chloe had started making oinking noises to Sabrina when Marinette had bent down to clean it up. Or like the way Chloe had said that Marinette didn't really need the extra calories, so she was actually helping her after all.

Lucky Lucky Ladybug kept replaying the scene in her mind, over and over, thinking about just how stupid Chloe would've felt if Tikki had let Marinette transform and give Chloe a talking-to as Ladybug. She had woven the string of her yo-yo between her fingers into a cat's cradle, and every time her hands would stretch apart, the yo-yo would spin on its track. Then she'd bring her hands back together to catch the yo-yo mid spin, the metal body clacking against the bones in her hands. Spin, then clack. Spin, clack. Spin, clack.

Chat Noir had been talking for the past few minutes, but Ladybug never bothered to listen to him anymore. He had probably just made one of his awful puns again, based on the way he started stammering.

"Oh, uh, s-so the joke is that it's a play on the word—" "Have you ever thought that maybe, if you have to explain all of your jokes, you're not funny?" Chat Noir got quiet, his shoulders falling. Ladybug kept her eyes on her yo-yo. "I'm sorry, milady," Chat Noir apologized. "I just assumed you didn't understand the punchline." "Maybe you should come up with jokes other people understand then. That way people might actually laugh at them." Spin, clack. Spin, clack. Ladybug kept imagining Chloe's face, with her pale blue eyeshadow and her cakey makeup.

Chat Noir started to twist his fingers together, the claws on his thumbs digging into his gloved hands. It wasn't anything new—people having little patience with him, that is. His father had gotten him used to it by now. Chat Noir knew that the right thing to do in such situations was just to acquiesce, and that when you acquiesced people liked you more for it. "I noticed you and Rena were on television the other day. How did that go?" Ladybug hunched over herself, scoffing as she wound the string of her yo-yo tighter around her fingers. She had started bring Renared to press conferences and fan meetups because she could trust that Alya wouldn't act like an idiot or say stupid things. Alya was a good friend like that, willing to pick up Chat Noir's slack. Plus, doing things with Rena instead meant that Marinette and Alya could hang out for the rest of the day, and Marinette would actually enjoy herself. Doing anything of that with Chat Noir... would mean she'd be hanging out with Chat Noir. Bad pickup lines and worse jokes included.

"It was fine," Ladybug huffed, rolling her eyes. "Why do you even care?" "Oh- well, uhm. You just used to take me, and I was wondering if you had a reason that you... well... stopped."

One time during an interview, Chat Noir had derailed the entire conversation talking about the intricacies of whether or not their group of holders counted more as a religious or a political organization, entirely unaware that nobody could even begin to care about such a thing. Spin, clack. Spin, clack.

Ladybug thought about the way Chloe's face had scrunched up when she oinked at Marinette. Ladybug thought of Chat Noir's stupid awkward stammer. Ladybug thought about having to admit to her mother that her grades were getting worse.

Ladybug trapped the yo-yo in her hands for the last time, almost trying to crush it.

"It's because she's better at it than you, and I like you better when I don't have to hear you talk. Does that make you happy?!"

Chat Noir almost answered—No, actually, knowing that people didn't like hearing him talk didn't make him happy at all. But he'd learned by now that when Ladybug asked him questions like that, she wasn't actually asking and a response would only make her angrier.

"I'm sorry. I'll talk less, milady."

"I told you to stop calling me that."

"...I'm sorry."

Maybe Chloe could pick on Chat Noir for a change. He deserved it more than she did.

[artsninspo]

COUNTERFEIT - three

⇽ part two

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

🍒 authors note: the story is starting to heat up and give you a sneak peak of whats to come.

🍒 pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Faith (Original Character) All my characters are black women.

🍒 word count: ~1.8K

🍒 summary: A day party, unexpected guest, damsel in distress, a lot of stress. Confrontation, unexpected chivalry, back stories & unfavourable truths. This one's messy 🌪️ .

🍒 three - unnatural habitats

I try my best for courage as the city scenes change from outside my window. I can feel Char’s eyes on me. Our argument was conveniently well timed. Now, if I don't show up now to this PR activation of her’s i’ll be toast. The worst sister in the world, problem child extraordinaire. It’s not that I don't want to support Char, it's that Jasonwas invited. In order to secure the necessary funding to make things go off without a hitch she enlisted him knowing his firm's coffers are deep. Knowing Jason, he will be in attendance. It’s the root of my reluctance to attend, not some petty spat and a childish attempt to get even. Char and I didn't speak until last night when she placed the dress she wanted me to wear today on my bed. A pinterest board of context for how I needed to look followed via text along with a detailed itinerary. I reacted to the messages with thumbs up and sat in the make-up artists and hair stylists chairs when they arrived smiling, laughing and talking with them - conceding and playing the role everyone wished to be my permanent disposition.

“Where were you last night?” Char asks, drawing me from my thoughts.

I take a breath before looking over at her, “Out” 

Char rolls her eyes at me before smoothing out her dress - it’s rare vintage and gorgeous. “Out where?” she probes.

“Drinking” I respond being short with her and she sighs.

“Whatever, screw your life up. The rest of us are responsible enough to be your backup plans” she snaps but i’m not in the mood for a back and forth.

“I can act the fool during your event if that's what you want?” I threaten her knowing the social game of chess well. Char glares at me in response. She knows she doesn't have to beg me not to. She knows I'd never knowingly light a match to anything she loves.

“I don't want that - I want the best for you Faith and you're just. I don't know what you're doing!” she shouts.

“I’m 24 and you're 25 Char, what the hell! We’ve got our entire lives ahead of us.”

“How many weddings have we been to the past few summers? How many housewarmings and baby showers?” Char snaps like any one of these guys we grew up with is worth getting to claim her in any way.

“That’s where the party dies Char. How many of our friends are the same?” I ask her.

“Just because you resent Merrick-” Char starts.

“It’s not about Merrick” I snapped, tired of that narrative. “None of this shit is real Char, I don't mind playing pretend but the charade has to end at some point! If mom didn’t have Merrick we could still live the way we do. We have an uncle you know, our fathers brother.”

“Drug money” she whispers well indoctrinated. Char looks at me appalled by my suggestion.

“Because corporations are not just as exploitative and damaging to communities, and the environment?” I ask and she looks at me like I'm a mongrel. Daddy would roll in his grave. That’s the fundamental difference - our father was never self righteous. He never made his choice of employment out to be the right thing - it was just a means to take care of his family. Char was his princess and I was his shadow. 

“Our father killed people and destroyed families with the poison he pumped into the community. Merrick is nothing like that” She snaps as the car comes to a halt. I exit the car and skip photo opps heading straight into the venue I’ve had a hand in decorating - I’m not in the mood to schmooze or network. I head to the bar and get my first round as the music gets good. I throw a few shots back heading over to mingle and maintain my reputation as the ‘fun’ sister. Girls twerk around me but I spare my sisters the embarrassment of my participation. I’m on a cool down when I see Jason watching me with longing. I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself this much in his company. I want to run but I can’t because we’ve made eye contact. He looks like he’s been going through it and I can't imagine how much it hurts him to see me looking unaffected by our end.

“Hey” he shouts over the music, having cleared the distance between us.

“Hey” I responded.

“You look beautiful” He smiles with a hand on my hip. It should be familiar and refreshing but it just isn't. He pulls me in coming in for a kiss but I turn my head and step out of his hold before looking at him again.

“Thanks” I mutter, not nearly drunk enough to forget we're over.

“Babe, can we talk?” He asks, lips brushing against my ear.

“We spoke already,” I remind him.

“You haven’t been taking my calls,” he says.

“Because Jason I have nothing more to say!” I say louder my impatience growing.

“Then listen to me, I love you” he says and for a moment the declaration moves me. But then something about him reminds me of Rick and it all goes away.

“Then let me go,” I plead. Jason searches my eyes before anger flashes in his. He pulls me to him like this is a bid for attention, a game of cat and mouse - a way to spice up our relationship and not a breakup.

“You want more attention, I get it. I’m here. I'll work less hours and make more time for us Faith. I love you - stop being like this” he says confirming my suspicions. It's a testament to how well I’ve gotten to know him and how little he’s been paying attention. The whole thing makes me upset and I pull away but he grabs my arms.

“Hey!” A deep voice says in warning. I relax, relieved security is here but I turn to see D’s cousin Rio. His expression is displeased as he sizes Jason up. Jason releases my arms - caught in his below the board behaviour. He straightens and my head spins. Rio’s the last person I expected here or defending me. He gives me a reassured nod before glaring at Jason like Jason has lost his everloving mind. Jason goes to grab me again before Rio steps between us.

“She’s my girl, move” Jason snaps.

“Doesn’t look like it” Rio responds unmoved.

“Why don’t you go and mind your business?” Jason snaps.

“Faith, is this your boyfriend?” Rio asks, casting a look over his shoulder at me, all the while still using his body as a shield.

“I know everyone she knows and I don’t know you” Jason snaps.

“You can do better than this, ma” Rio taunts with a smile that’s only purpose is to provoke Jason.

“Ma?! Faith, who the hell is this guy?’ Jason snaps ready to make a scene.

“Jason, call me when you aren’t drunk” I shout, needing to diffuse the situation for Char’s sake.

“Faith, don’t walk away from me” he shouts, stepping around Rio to grab at me again and it happens so fast I’m shocked. Jason is grabbed by security and his wallet is plucked from his pocket. Another guard snaps a picture of his license.

“Don’t worry, he won’t be allowed back” the guard says. I force a mortified nod as security makes quick work of throwing Jason out discreetly. A few eyes are on us, Char among them.

Fuck, I curse to myself.

“Thanks” I mumble and Rio turns to face me.

“Let me guess, finance?” He says.

My head is still spinning. “What?”

“He works in finance so he thinks people can be bought? And has shit to lose that's why he aint swing on me for talking to his ‘girl’” Rio says with a knowing, taunting light in his eyes. It kills all of the chivalry of his actions.

“Yes, finance” I admit and he looks me over again like I can do better. 

“Well D would’ve wanted me to look out,” he shrugs cooly.

“Thanks” I respond, feeling deflated.

“I’ll tell the staff you're a friend of the family, you need anything let us know” he comments glancing around the venue.

“Appreciate it” I mutter seeing Char’s wide eyes behind him as she makes her way over.

“No worries. But don’t ever come to the bar dressed like that you hear?” He winks walking away.

“Who was that? He’s hot!” Char asks as Rio disappears. 

“D’s cousin” I answer honestly.

“How do you know him? I don’t remember this cousin.” she asks.

“He was around when I saw D” I omit the full truth and she looks in his direction some more.

“He’s hot” she repeats and I smile.

“He’s not your type”

“What?” she asks.

“I'm pretty sure he doesn’t fit your criteria” I tell her.

“What does he do?” She asks.

“He looks like he does whatever he wants.” I tell her heading back to the bar. The bartender hands me a cherry margarita before I can order.

“From the boss” he smiles and I do too. My sister watches me with a hundred questions when I don’t pay and I know it’ll be a long interrogation. I wonder if Rio’s actions are genuine kindness or flirting - either way the man is attentive and clearly dangerous. I head home shortly after the incident, skipping out on the after parties. When I wake up I see a slew of emails from Jason and roll my eyes. I see a message from char saying she’s doing hot yoga and relax until my phone rings. I check the caller ID with one eye open and see Diego’s name. Relief washes over me and I answer.

“Hello”

“Char called”  Diego says on the other end of the video call.

“Yeah?” I ask and he nods.

“Asking if you were involved with my cousin” Diego says and I roll my eyes.

“Jason was sloshed and getting aggressive instead of my sister intervening your cousin did.” I explain.

“I know he told me, then asked me if guys like Jason are your type” Diego says with a knowing expression.

“We both know he isn’t” I admit. “How's the play off season going at the bar?” I ask.

“Good. You low on money?” he asks.

“No, I've been living off the tips and saving my salary. It’s nice.” I admit.

“Rio’s out of town next weekend so if you want to work let me know” he offers.

“I’m in” I tell him.

“Good”

“Did Char tell you she thinks Rio is hot?” I ask and his eyes bug out.

“Rio isn’t her type, he has a son and two girlfriends” D says, surprising even me.

“Two” I exclaim shocked and D nods. “And he’d pretend Char’s the only one,” I add, shaking my head.

“Good at it too,” D scoffs, making me laugh.

“Then he’s exactly her type, she still believes in playing pretend” I tell Jason who swallows.

“Both of you need to stay away from him.” D says before changing the subject to something lighter.

group project - COUNTERFEIT (RIO)

authors note: checking in with readers. the first chapter did well but the second not so much. idk if you all are busy or tired with the state of the world, tired of rio or adjusting to the change in POV. Whatever the case I'm willing to pause updating this story for now and revisit updating it later.

This story is a slower burn than Forgiveless but I promise all the mess and spice you love and more is on the horizon.

Comment, Like & Reblog if you want more of this story.

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[chibifox2002]

The Bird's Broken Nest

After arriving at the Safe Haven, Janet finally shares some things about herself to her comrades.

Warning: This fic contains conversation on topics of stillbirth/premature death. If you are sensitive to those types of topics, please do not read!

Janet was exhausted.

Wait… actually no, exhausted wasn't a strong enough word to describe how out of it she was. Her entire body felt like it was practically lit on fire after having an elephant stomp on her several times over. Enduring everything that this cursed factory had thrown at her so far was finally starting to catch up to her, and considering her old age, she's honestly surprised that she didn't just die right then and there after all her adrenaline had worn off.

But here she was, still kicking and walking shakily back to Poppy, Dog Day, Baby Long Legs and Kissy in the Safe Haven to rest after talking with Doey.

Janet had grabbed a few pillows and placed them next to her toys and slowly (and painfully) sat down next to them, setting her grab pack to the side. By the God's above her shoulders needed this break right now. She sat in silence for a few moments before speaking.

“So, how are you four holding up? D’ya need anything?” She asked, a look of strong concern on her face as she turned to speak to the four toys. One of them, Baby, fast asleep against Kissy Missy.

“No thanks Janet, we're fine right now. Thank you though!” Poppy said, the exhaustion clear in her voice.

“Alright then, just let me know if you need anything honey…” Janet said, turning her gaze to the other toys within the Haven. They were all going about their business, yet Janet could tell that they were wary of her. She couldn't blame them though, if she were in their position she'd feel that way too.

Some of the toys were chatting amongst themselves, some were playing with the kickballs just a bit in front of her, but most of them were resting their own injuries just as Dog Day and Kissy were. Janet closed her eyes, wanting to rest her eyes and maybe even get some sleep before heading back out.

She was starting to doze off when she felt eyes on her, she glanced to her left, Dog Day was staring at her, he quickly snapped his head away when he noticed that Janet had noticed him.

“Dog Day?” Janet started, “Do you need something, hun?” She asked, he probably wanted some food or something.

“O-Oh! Um- Well…” Dog Day stuttered, clearly unsure if to ask his question or not. “Well… I don't need anything, but I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go for it buddy.” Janet gave him the okay.

“Forgive me if I'm looking too much into this, but I noticed that you always seem to end up in a daze whenever we stumbled upon some of the infant beds when we were in the upper levels… Is that the area you used to work at..?” Dog Day finished, uncertainty in his voice.

Oh.

She'd figured the question about her place in the factory would pop up soon. She just still wasn't sure how to answer it, but considering what her comrades have shared with her so far, she decided that it was only fair to at least try to tell them.

“Oh no sweetpea, I didn't work in Playcare… to be honest with you, I didn't even work with the toys like you and Kissy. I worked in the section of the factory that made the normal toys… the ones that made it to the toy stores and stuff.” Janet adjusted herself upward and continued. “But I did go there often to visit the children, especially during my pregnancy when I wasn't able to do factory work.”

“Pregnancy?” Poppy chimed in. “You have kids? Huh… I guess that explains your motherly nature then!” She said with a small giggle. Sharing a happy glance with Kissy before looking back to the older woman.

Janet’s face had gone cold… as if she had seen a ghost…

“Janet? You okay? I didn't say anything that upset you… did I?” Poppy asked, nervously.

“Oh- uh… no Pop, you're alright… I just…” her words drifted off, as if contemplating something.

“I don't have a child…”

Kissy leaned over, sharing the same confused look as her two friends. Even a few other toys began glancing over from their respective areas at the comment. Dog Day then spoke up, “But, you just said that you were pregnant? How could you not have a child if you were pregnant at some point?”

Janet sighed, once again adjusting herself so she'd be facing the three confused toys.

“How much do you all know about human biology? Specifically for human reproduction?”

Dog Day paused and thought for a bit, “... Well probably just the basics really. Two adults get together and make a child together. Why?”

Janet nodded as she cleared her throat, considering how to go about this.

“Well, are you aware of something called infertility?” Janet asked, the toys shook their heads. Figures, the adults probably didn't think about teaching that.

“Well, infertility means that someone doesn't have the ability to have a child of their own, and for a while I had actually struggled with that. But there's always a slight chance that, with medical aid, that person is able to have a pregnancy, and I was able to.” Janet paused. Thinking about those times, the happiness her and her husband felt when they had gotten the news.

“I still remember that day well… When my late husband and I had gotten the news that we were gonna be parents to a baby boy, we were practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. We had been trying for over three years at that point and we were thrilled!”

Janet chuckled softly, “We actually started preparing a room for the baby that day. We had gotten everything, a cradle with the softest blankets and pillows we could find, plenty of baby clothes, we even made a list of the best baby food for when they were born. We had little fluffy sheep painted all across the walls and put glow in the dark stars on them too!”

Janet paused for a second to glance at the toys, their eyes glued to her, all of them did. Even Doey had his head peeking out of the doorframe of the generator room.

“But…” Janet sighed, her expression changing to a more somber one.

“One night, I was at the hospital for a checkup for the baby. I ended up having to reschedule for later in the night due to something else popping up, so I had to take care of that first.” Janet's heart began to ache.

“Well, after the tests the doctor finally came back with the results and… She told me that the baby hadn't survived… and that we had to prepare to remove the body from me immediately…”

Silence flooded the Safe Haven while Janet took a shaky breath, tears starting to form in her eyes.

“I… was… heartbroken, to put it gently.” She choked on her tears. “One moment, I thought I was finally going to have the family I always wanted, and then the next second, the doctors are inducing labor so I could push a dead body out of me…”

Tears were falling down her face now, blurring her vision of the shocked expressions of the toys around her.

“Heh, but you wanna know the funny part?...”

Janet choked out, a bitter smile on her face.

“After I had healed and gotten out of the hospital, I had tried to go back to work but they didn't let me in... Playtime Co. had laid me off while I was in the hospital and refused to explain why. I couldn't even contact my husband no matter what I did. So I had to look for a new job and deal with all the bills all at the same time with no help… And that's not even considering the therapy bills I had as well.”

A dry laugh left her throat. “I guess… this-” Janet gestured around her. “-is why… They knew I'd be pissed knowing what they were doing down here…”

Janet sniffled, the silence within the Safe Haven was loud. She shifted as she wiped at her tear covered face.

“I-I’m sorry… that was probably a lot huh… I didn't mean for all of that to spill out.”

Kissy was then next to her, wrapping an arm around the broken human woman in an attempt to comfort her.

Poppy spoke. “I'm… so sorry for your loss Janet… That must have been terrible for you to go through alone.”

“Not as bad as what you all have gone through…” Janet said softly, leaning into Kissy.

Soon all the toys were surrounding the small group, Doey now being completely out of the generator room and sharing the same saddened expression on his face as the others.

“U-um.” A new, tiny voice stuttered.

Janet and the others looked up towards the source of the voice, meeting eyes with a Hoppy Hopscotch toy, who was slowly approaching them while they spoke.

“What was his name? Y-Your baby I mean. Didja have a name for him?”

Janet paused, and after a moment cleared her throat and spoke.

“...Milo… I had wanted to name him Milo… After the main character from my favorite movie… I had always thought it was a lovely name for a little boy…”

Janet looked down at her hands which were instinctively holding her stomach, like she had done when she was still pregnant, when she would talk to her precious baby.

“Milo… my sweet little Milo.”

Then at that moment, a small blue hand placed itself onto Janet’s. She looked up to see Baby looking at her, cooing. Janet took him from Kissy and cradled him, letting him wrap his stretchy arms around her as he got settled in her arms.

As Baby began to doze off, Janet let out a yawn, her exhaustion now stronger than ever as her body screamed at her to sleep.

“You should sleep now pal… You need it.” Doey said as he grabbed some blankets and draped it around her and Kissy.

A few of the other toys placed more pillows around them as Dog Day laid down behind them, acting as another pillow for them, and began to fall asleep too.

As Janet began to drift to sleep, her mind began to wander. Conjuring up a mental image of her laying in bed in her husband's arms, wrapped in warm blankets and fluffy pillows, as she held her baby, her little Milo, in her arms…

[benz12313]

Surface Tension Ch.2 - Ridoc x OC!Doll

|Images are not mine|

Description: Despite wanting to be anywhere but the rider's quadrant, Daisy Jenkins loves her family, and so begrudgingly, she volunteers herself to go and throw herself to the mercy of dragons. She struggles with her confidence, but will a certain man with a penchant for mischief and a flirtatious attitude show her that she doesn't have to hide? That she too has a voice that can and should be heard? Will she be bold enough to claim him as her own? Or will she let him slip through her fingers, forever just out of reach? {Slow Burn/Mated Dragons/Friends to Lovers}

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 2,030

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Two - Forming Bonds

I watched each candidate after me become a cadet, with my back to the pillar behind me. I scanned the crowd, silent, watching, and silently begging that this would all be over soon. The adrenaline crash after all the excitement on the parapet was leaving me tired, and it wasn’t even over yet. We still have to be assigned squads, eat dinner, and settle into the barracks; where mom said we’d be separated by sex, and then be stuffed in the a room of bunks in rows. 

Don’t run. 

It was the only thing they would say about forming squads, but based on my mother’s dark chuckle when she’d said it… Yeah, there was no doubt in my mind that it wasn’t as simple as they’d advised.

Don’t run. 

I scanned over the crowd. An hour had passed, the Basgiath bells marking the hour just a few minutes ago. I wish I could just slip into bed now. The armor my father had forged using his metal wielding signet wasn’t foreign to me. I’d been training with the newly formed corset for months now, but it was wearing on me. I couldn’t wait to sit, the thing got fucking heavy after a while. Taking it off would be impossible other than when showering until after threshing, when we were assigned our own dorms and safety while sleeping was nearly guaranteed. 

Just because it’s against the codex to attack a rider while they sleep, doesn’t mean that some don’t have the balls to do it anyway. 

It wasn’t much longer until the three upperclassmen that had been on the other side of the parapet crossed, and I knew we were done. Every cadet standing in the courtyard now, were the ones who had made it. Who got to live through their first day. I couldn’t help but notice the significant size difference from when we’d waited below, before we ever even stepped foot on a single stair. How many of us have died?

The girl from the parapet pushed through my mind, and I flinched. I’d done good ignoring those thoughts since we’d made it to the courtyard, since Ridoc Gamlyn had disappeared into the crowd. I let my lip tremble for a second before shoving it into the darkest corners of my mind, and shutting the door. No time for softness now. Not here. Not when I wasn’t the only one off to the side, scanning the crowd, watching for strength and weakness. The red-haired monster from before was across the courtyard, towering over most of the rest of us first-years, and scanning the crowd, just as I was. 

His mere existence seemed to shove me closer to that dangerous zone of fight or flight with every second. Everything about him set me on edge, something rubbing me wrong with his silence, that menacing aura he exuded. In my experience, which was admittedly narrow based on the fact that I come from a small mountain village of barely 100 people; bullies are usually loud, boisterous, and trying to be the biggest person in the room. This man was quiet, calculating, and…well he’s still the biggest person in the room. His entire demeanor set me on edge, and I knew with certainty; I wouldn’t be ignoring him anytime soon. In fact, I was certain he would star in a few of my nightmares after his display on the parapet. 

The Commandant stepped forward and I sighed, stepping forward and facing the dais just like every other cadet in the courtyard. Even the second and third years were at attention. He congratulated the 301 of us that survived, but my heart lurched when he said that 67 of us did not make it. 67 people died today. I knew the crowd had looked smaller, but so many of us just…gone. Swallowed by the rain, poor balance, and…other cadets. My eyes burned and I cursed myself for my weakness. My weak heart would be the death of me here if I didn’t learn how to keep it in check. 

He went on, talking about our future, being intimidating as hell, and subtly warning us of the dangers. Introducing the teachers, and then finishing with a threat to not make us his problem. Great. 

Nyra, who was apparently senior wingleader of the quadrant, started talking, and sorting us into squads. I was sorted into 2nd Squad, Flame Section, Second Wing, along with two other girls who looked thick as thieves already. One with ombre hair, the ends silver and was my height, no more than an inch of difference. Sorrengail. She’d made a spectacle of herself apparently. Enough so that when I’d made it across, people were still talking about her confrontation with another cadet. The girl next to her was a bit taller than me and Sorrengail, with deep brown skin, and several rows of braids all pinned back. They whispered in front of me, Sorrengail muttering facts to the other girl, and I intently listened. Any info is good info. 

Then Ridoc was called to our squad, and he slipped into line on my right. He gave me a side-eyed look, massive grin on his face, and then he fucking winked, making me fight the blush rising, again. Damn idiotic handsome face of his. 

“Wow, must be fate Doll.” He teased, and I rolled my eyes, staying quiet as they finished making squads. “C’mon you know you missed me.” I breathed an irritated sigh before I noticed Sorrengail stiffen. Eyes scanning the dais I noticed the wingleaders arguing over something. But then we were moved to Fourth Wing and if the terrifying yet somehow sexual smirk our new wingleader was sending directly at Sorrengail in front of me was anything to go by, it was definitely to do with her. Well shit. 

“They need a room.” I muttered quiet enough that only Ridoc could hear and he damn near choked himself trying to suppress a chuckle. I turned red. Why the hell did I say that?? Maybe Ridoc was rubbing off on me. Either way I’m fucking mortified I said that out loud. 

The wingleader started a surprisingly charismatic speech, that was obviously a setup to something else. Don’t run. The sentence coursed threw me as I heard the familiar sound of wing beats.

I didn’t see my parents dragons often, but when you live in a generally quiet place the sound is easily recognizable.  

Eight fucking dragons land on the wall, chunks of stone falling. “Don’t run.” I mutter, fear coursing through me for just a moment before I locked my body down. I got as stiff as I could so my body wouldn’t betray me and move on its own. I notice Ridoc twitch next to me and a new fear courses through me. My hand flies before I can stop it, gripping his wrist tightly and his eyes fly to mine. “Don’t run, my parents said don’t run.” I whisper and he nods as my fingers tighten, pressing harder into his skin. I look forward again. “Don’t run. Don’t run. Don’t run.” I mutter like a fucking mantra that will somehow keep me alive. 

Three run. Three piles of ash remain.

The smell of sulfur stings my nose. My heart hammers in my chest, but I don’t flinch. I stand. I stare at no dragon in particular, sure not to meet one’s gaze. They were beautiful though, every single one of them. I had always loved dragons, even if the riders weren’t my ideal choice in quadrants. They were powerful, majestic, and so..fucking..huge. Being able to mount one was definitely going to be a challenge. Not impossible though. 

I barely heard our wingleader as he continued to speak. All I could do was watch the dragons; their serpentine movements, their silent authority. Fear was still there, gripping me as tightly as I was gripping Ridoc, who had finally been shut up. Even he had the sense to stay quiet in the presence of the dragons. 

Only when the dragons disappeared, and our squad leaders (ours being Dain Aetos, a stern guy who seemed very…strict, but somehow more than strict) started leading us to the cafeteria did I let go of Ridoc. I was a bit too shaken, and frankly much too tired to be embarrassed I’d held him that long. He didn’t say anything, just shooting me a playful grin, much to my surprise. Maybe he was just as shaken as I was. I don’t think he’d ever admit that though. 

Throughout dinner I was silent, listening to the others introduce themselves, none of them really going into extreme detail. Guess it’s not surprising that none of us trust each other yet. 

“And you.” Aetos turns to me, and I gulp. 

“Ugh, Daisy Jenkins.” I say simply and Sorrengail, Violet, perks up from my right. You can see the equations in her eyes as she thinks on my name. 

“As in Mikael Jenkins, famous metal wielding rider?” She asked and the others eyes widened and I nodded, cheeks surely going pink. 

“He helps forge a lot of Navarre’s weapons, and ugh, armor too. But weapons are easier for him to mass produce.” That’s why we lived in the mountains to begin with. Plenty of metal to forge. Also why he had been allowed an early retirement. 

“Badass Doll.” Ridoc says, sending me a wink from where he sat across the table from me, boredly pushing back on his chair. He only grinned wider when I looked away. 

Aetos moved on, until he gave us directions to head to our rooms. Warning us to make sure and get plenty of rest, wakeup is at 6, which frankly is just cruel. Mornings have never been my forte.

I was nearly there, just behind Rhiannon and Violet, when Ridoc grabbed my arm and pulled me to a side hallway. After inspecting if we were alone or not, and coming to the conclusion that we were, he turned his attention to me, making me nervously grab the straps of my small pack. 

His eyes were playful, but heated, and focused directly on me, making me entirely too self conscious. This was different than the looks before, more intense and focused. Like every ounce of his attention was focused entirely on me. There was no fighting it now, from my neck up felt like it was on fire. His eyes narrowed and he grinned wide, voice dropping low. 

“Hey Doll,” He wasn’t even touching me now, hands moving to sit casually in his pockets, but he might as well have been caging me in place the way my body felt like it was frozen. 

“Hey Ridoc,” I squeaked out, and his smile softened a bit. Still ever playful though. 

“Was wondering…well figured I’d ask you if wanted to find a empty room and celebrate still being alive with me.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at me and I gulped.

“Ugh-“ I started, and something flashed in his eyes, gone faster than I could identify what it was. 

“Don’t feel bad if it’s a no though, not too late for me to find someone else.” He added and my stomach sank. Why did that not feel right? There was no way I actually wanted to sleep with someone I just met, right? 

“Um, we probably shouldn’t. Being squad mates and all?” It sounded more like a question than anything else, but he nodded, still grinning. Just…it felt colder now, despite his face not having changed at all. 

“Right, no worries Doll. Go on, I’ll see ya in the morning yeah?” I backed away, feeling a bit sick to my stomach, though I couldn’t rightly place why. That’s what I wanted right? To curl up in bed and let myself relax for the first time all day. Why did his eyes look like they'd lost their life? And why did that bother me more than anything else?

“Yeah.” It was practically a whisper. “See you in the morning.” He nodded and I turned, leaving him in the abandoned hallway. Why do I feel like that was a mistake?

Author's Note: Thank you to all that have showed the first chapter some love! It's definitely been fun getting back into posting. Just wanted to say that I've started two taglists; one for this story and one for all my Ridoc fics from here on out, including this story. If you'd like to be added to either just let me know which one! Thank you again for reading! :)

@xadenswhore @jinx108

[cryingatwindermerepeaks]

Little!April - Supportive

Regressuary day 10 … prompt: Character A wants to wear diapers to help with their regression. Character B tries their best to be supportive. (@mcschnuggles)

Wanted to very very clearly start this off by saying this is ENTIRELY sfw and any interaction with this post that seems even remotely nsfw will be blocked immediately. I couldn’t care less what you do in your personal life but this is my safe space. Anyway, I know this can be a difficult topic in the agere community but I wanted to write something to help padded regressors feel more accepted within the community <3

Word count: 1132

—————————

Accidents weren’t really a problem with April, she was usually capable of getting herself to the bathroom on time when she was little but that’s more where the problem lay. Everytime the girl needed to use the restroom she’d immediately pull herself out of her regressed headspace and struggled to return to it later even when she really needed it. Leslie and Ben noticed very quickly that this frequently resulted in April being extra irritable for the rest of the day which no one needed. They tried to address the topic gently, making sure to approach April about their concerns while she was big and Andy was out.

“We just want to make your regression as safe for you as possible,” Ben explained gently.

“And we thought maybe some protection could help with that,” Leslie added. April’s face scrunched up and burnt red, her fists tightening around the soft blanket she was sitting under. The suggestion made her feel small and nervous even though Mummy and Dada had said they wanted to talk with big April. She couldn’t help it. “Oh baby, does it make you that upset to think about?” Leslie cooed gently, not wanting to make April uncomfortable. The younger girl whined, rubbing her fists at her eyes, the thought of crying right now was making her feel even more embarrassed. The problem was that she didn’t know if it made her upset, or if she was particularly opposed to the idea. In fact, a part of her did think it might be nice to try. It all just felt so different and new, April hated change. She stood up from the couch abruptly, stomping off to her bedroom and slamming the door. She didn’t mean to seem angry but her body felt like it was about to burst. She just needed some time to think.

Leslie and Ben were understandably worried about April but decided not to push her too far in case they made it worse. She stayed in her room all afternoon and eventually Andy returned from band practice. “Where’s ‘Pril?” He questioned, eager to play with the younger girl after he’d been out all day.

“She’s in the bedroom but she needs some space right now, ok?” Ben warned gently, looking up from the book he’d been reading on the couch.

“Why?” Andy questioned, April never needed space from him - from other people yes, but never Andy.

Leslie and Ben shared a look, “it’s not really our spot to tell you about it buddy,” Leslie explained. Andy crossed his arms with a frown, if it related to April it related to him.

He went off to their room, leaving Leslie and Ben worried on the couch. They decided April could handle herself if she wanted Andy to leave her alone and decided to go start making dinner - Calzones.

After a while April and Andy both emerged from the bedroom, hands intertwined and April standing slightly behind Andy with her pacifier in her mouth. They hovered in the entrance of the kitchen for a moment before Andy spoke up. “April’s gonna try diapers.” Both Leslie and Ben looked up in shock, they certainly hadn’t expected that. April whined and tugged on Andy’s hand, as if to remind him of something. “Oh right, and I’m going to try pull-ups.”

“That’s very kind of you kiddo,” Ben smiled softly.

Andy shrugged, wrapping April in a big bear hug. “It’ll make ‘Pril feel better and I have accidents too sometimes so I think it will be a good idea.”

***

The diapers and pull-ups arrived a few days later, April’s had little purple stars on the front and that made her feel a bit better, at least they were cute. It took a bit of gentle reassurance from Leslie, Ben and Andy, before April agreed to actually try them on. “What if I don’t like it?” She’d asked Leslie nervously, eyeing the package which Leslie had placed on the bed.

“Then we can take it off and you never have to try them again, ok?” April nodded. She was already feeling small and it made the idea of Ben and Leslie taking care of her like this comforting. Plus, the thought that Andy was just down the hall with Ben helping him put on a pull-up made her feel much less embarrassed. She grabbed onto her stuffed dog version of Champion and wordlessly lay down on the bed.

“You’re doing so well bub,” Leslie cooed as she helped April into the diaper. April blushed, keeping her eyes trained on the ceiling above her. She soothed the soft fur of her stuffie back and forth against her cheek to keep her calm. “Do you want a onesie?” April nodded eagerly, feeling incredibly small as Leslie changed her.

“Dino please,” she mumbled around her fingers which had made their way into her mouth. Leslie picked out April’s favorite green hooded dinosaur onesie and helped her into it. The fabric was so soft and the hood was good for hiding in.

“You’re all set baby dino,” she cooed. April sat up, suddenly too excited by the fact she was dressed up like a dinosaur to care about the diaper. She roared playfully, making Leslie smile and kiss her forehead. “Does it feel ok?”

“It’s ok mummy,” she shrugged, her tummy twisting anxiously at the thought of actually talking about it. Leslie sighed, recognising April’s hesitance.

“It’s ok not to like it, and it’s also ok if you do. It’s also ok if you decide not to use it or if you do.” she explained gently, tucking April’s hair behind her ears.

April squirmed, “I think I like it… feels safe,” she explained nervously. Leslie smiled,

“That’s all we wanted, baby. For you to feel safe.” April nodded and stood up, reaching out to hold onto the hem of Leslie’s shirt as they walked out to the living room. Andy was sat on the floor, playing with his toy cars in just a pull-up and Mouserat t-shirt. She immediately felt at ease realising she wasn’t alone.

“‘Pril! Wanna play racing cars?” He asked excitedly. A part of April wanted to stay holding on to Leslie because she felt smaller than usual and Mummy was so safe but at the same time she wanted to play with Andy. She took a deep breath, Ann always told her it was a good way to ground herself, and then let go of Leslie’s shirt so she could sit on the floor beside Andy. He pulled her into his lap as he often did when they were playing together. This felt safe, part of it was different and new but that didn’t necessarily mean it was scary and bad. And she definitely wasn’t alone so it would be ok.

[vulgrados-best]

OFFSCREEN POST

Angel of Death - Part 1

An inane situation that Miguel can only summarize as ‘some secondary location bullshit.’ A single cell tower ping after Maple had apparently been gone for 2 fucking weeks. Thankfully Z had managed to triangulate it or something, probably to do with satellite handshakes like the pings they got from that missing plane that went into the ocean. Mental tangents everywhere! Yippee! Whatever. Miguel doesn’t pretend to understand cell towers and how it can literally just ping once. Wouldn’t that imply the phone had been intentionally turned on? Or did it just finally get signal for a moment?

The details don’t matter but it was a ping that came from the middle of nowhere and here they are in some fuckass ruins.

They find Maple towards the center of the… fuck what even was this place before it became like this? They’ll have to ask Jaime later. Maple is laying on some ruins and next to her is some… deeply unsettling old man. What catches Miguel’s attention is the fact that Tami is… also there. What is going on?

The old man doesn’t turn to face the group of teens who’ve come to get their friend, instead just continuing to look down at Maple. They give no indication they even realize everyone’s arrived, although Tami is already looking directly at them. 

The absol’s gaze trails across the entire group, stopping to stare at Esper– causing the girl to nervously scooch closer to Victoria— before she softens and turns to look at the unconscious Maple as well. 

It’s hard to tell what Z was thinking behind the grey mask and hexagonal glasses that obscured her face, but the furrow of her brow was unmistakable. Hands shaking, she looked to the others for some sort of reassurance.

Beside her, Jaime caught her hesitation and offered a gloved hand to her. She silently took it into her own and nodded, holding it tightly. 

“So,” Jaime speaks out to the man. His expression seems unwaveringly determined, without a hint of fear in his voice. Miguel wondered how much of that was him suppressing it behind a brave face. “We finally meet face-to-face.”

“I suppose we are face to face, in a sense,” the man says, still not turning to look at the group as they brush some hair off of Maple’s face with a wrinkled hand, causing Miguel to tense. “There is much for us to talk about. Where should I begin?” 

Why was Tami being… So calm? A stirring familiarity blossoms in Miguel’s chest… What does this remind them of?

Esper shifts uncomfortably in place, her hands fiddling with her cane as she piped up, “Pr– Preferably from the beginning? Or where ever would be best for us to... understand whatever you wish to tell us?”

Flynn casts a glance over to Miguel, a deep frown on his face before turning his attention back to the old man.

Miguel catches Flynn’s eyes and gives a small nod, an acknowledgement of the strangeness of the situation. Something is wrong here. Why is there a sinking dread with a taste of home? Why do they feel like they’re 13 all over again?

Aspen swallows, gnawing on his bottom lip for a few moments. His eyes are trained on Maple until he rips his gaze away from her, forcing it to sweep across the rest of their little gang. His foot continues to tap restlessly, and he returns his focus to the old man.

“Right. The beginning… Well, the beginning of it all was quite a long time ago. Are you sure you’d like to start there?” The old man finally looks out towards the group. His eyes are blue, entirely so except for bright white pupils, an eerie glow illuminating every wrinkle of his aged face. 

It is at that moment where Miguel realizes exactly who this old man is. A scene they have replayed in their head over and over. Maple asleep in her bed, Miguel unable to sleep, a stranger at the window, the wilted flowers, and those goddamn eyes. All of it clicks into place and Miguel feels all at once like they’re going to throw up and like they’re gonna need to break something. That damn spectre.

Sitting in front of the group after so long of existing behind the mask of a screen is Anjo Da Morte.

Esper stumbles over her words as she tries to maintain eye contact with the man, “Ah– Well… Start… Start where you think is best?”

“Why don’t we start with why you’re here.” Miguel growls out, hands curled into fists at their side. “Did you decide to check up on your prey?” 

Victoria eyes the teen at her side. “Calm yourself, Caldeira.”

Miguel’s mind floods with a storm of thoughts, none of them entirely coherent. They figure that Victoria must be able to hear it, the outpour of visceral images. Their nightmares play layered on top of one another. Vullaby, Blue Eyes, Rot. A garden decimated by an unknown disease, a man at the window, the taste of blood. Sensory input with no clear sense that repeats itself in a whirlwind, like a record that keeps skipping, like a scab that is torn open again and again never allowed to heal, like a snake eating its own tail. Where does it stop? Where does it end? Where does it begin? 

“Careful with the demands, Miguel,” Anjo Da Morte says, laughing as if they’re teasing a friend. “You’re always so hostile. Don’t you know that aggressive dogs get muzzled?”

Their mind goes a sharp blinding blank, like a muzzle flare from a gun. “You son of a bitch!” Miguel can’t help themself, not after what happened this last autumn. They launch themself at Anjo Da Morte, even as their instincts tell them that it's a stupid thing to do. Their fist the bullet of the mishandled weapon. 

But when Miguel’s knuckles make contact something is… something is… Within the space of their own head, Miguel collapses. It’s like they shut down. Zacian takes control as a thick feeling of dread chokes them. This is not a man. This is not anything like a man, it feels like punching a bag of sand. And maybe Miguel already knew that this thing wasn’t right, but to have it confirmed like this was… Lach it’s bad.

Anjo Da Morte slumps backwards, almost unnaturally so, like a mannequin left without any support. They don’t move, they don’t even breathe, almost like a humanoid doll. 

Esper slaps her hands over her mouth as she stares at both Miguel and the man in horror, her eyes darting between the two.

Flynn opens his mouth to speak before closing it, opening it, and then closing it again at a loss for words.

Again, it’s hard to tell what Z is thinking behind the mask. The grip on Jaime’s hand tightens.

“Anjo da Morte, it’s an honor.” Zacian’s posture straightens like a swordsman preparing for a duel, as they spit out feigned respect.

Until it's not anymore. 

There’s a moment of silence before Anjo Da Morte sits up. It’s loose, like a stuffed toy being propped up. They don’t move like a person. They still don’t breathe, yet despite that, they laugh. Their lungs don’t move, it doesn’t come out of their body, but Anjo Da Morte still laughs. It echoes impossibly throughout everyone’s skulls.

Anjo Da Morte sits completely still. Completely lifeless. 

The figure of the old man twists and shifts until it’s something entirely new. A new form busting its way through a mockery of human flesh, feathers pushing through skin like a butterfly breaking its cocoon. Finally, in the chaos, a new form slowly emerges, until what stands in the ruins is no longer a man, but the form of a legendary pokemon instead. 

How much difference is there between a god and an angel, anyways? 

“Aw, hell no—” Z squawks out, “We ain’t fuckin’ doin’ this.” She tries to pull Jaime’s arm back, but he doesn’t budge. Keeping her eyes on the legendary Pokemon, she lets go of his hand and begins to slowly back away. 

Jaime, meanwhile, locks eyes with the angel of death, frozen in place in a mix of fear, awe, and reverence.

Flynn audibly swears, his hands shaking as takes a step back, glancing between the others and the being before them.

In the sea of emerging chaos Zacian’s body shakes. Every bit of self preservation tells him that there is no surviving something like this. That pure, unfiltered dread threatens to drowns even him.

Yveltal lets out a loud screech, shaking the ruins and causing small rocks to fall from their walls. As if a command, Maple’s body suddenly shoots up, standing like a soldier in front of the god. Though it is Maple’s body, Yveltal is clearly in control, her eye shines the exact same unnatural blue.

Victoria’s hardened gaze rises from the puppeted Maple to the rearing head of the deity before her. Her brother instinctively steps in front of her, holding out his other arm protectively. 

Esper freezes, her face growing impossibly pale as tears begin to well up in her eyes– her entire body quivering like a leaf.

Should someone do something? What can be done? This feels like the worst outcome.

The Legendary pokemon begins to take to the sky, dust and debris sent flying by each powerful wing beat, yet despite the force of the wind the body of Maple stands completely still. Yveltal lets out another loud screech, and begins to speak through Maple’s voice. 

“Si la violence est votre langage, je le parlerai,” she says, utterly calm, before the stillness is broken as she rushes towards Jaime, dragging the group into a fight. 

Continued in Part 2

[toasttt11]

golden gate bridge

September 23, 2024

Mackenzie walked out of the Thornton house wearing a simple pair of blue jeans, a green shirt and a white bomber jacket. She walked to Will’s car and got in and smiled seeing a dunkin coffee for her.

They had an off day for training camp today and Will had said he wanted to see something in San Jose so Mackenzie told him they should see the Golden Gate Bridge because everyone visiting or living in San Jose should go see the bridge.

Will smiled and said hi to Mackenize and he handed over the aux cord letting her pick the music, he actually didn’t mind letting her pick the music because they listen to a lot of the same music.

Will started driving them and they yapped for a lot of the drive but also listened to music too. It took them a little under an hour to get to the bridge and Mackenzie explained to Will what he should do. 
Will pulled into the line of cars and they started driving on the Golden Gate Bridge. Will looked around in awe, Boston obviously has so many bridges and he’s been on all of them but there was something really cool about the Golden Gate Bridge.

Will got lucky because the bridge was backed up with traffic so it took even longer to drive across the entire bridge and he got to look around more.

“We will have to come another time to run it.” Mackenzie told Will after she turned her phone off after she took a picture of Will looking out the window.

Will looked away from the window and at Mackenzie, “You can run it?” Will asked and he realized he could see some people walking and biking on the edges of the bridge.

“Yeah my Dad would have Aiden and i run all the way across and all the way back.” Mackenzie explained, that was a workout that was brutal.

Will reached the end of the bridge and Mackenzie directed him where to go and he turned left going up a road and pulled into a parking where a few other cars are.

“Come on.” Mackenzie grinned over her shoulder at Will as she hopped out of the car and headed toward the look out point at the edge of the parking lot.

Will quickly followed behind her and looked around in awe, “Woah.” Will mumbled as he looked over the look out point and you could see the whole bridge, the bay and San Francisco.

“Isn’t it cool.” Mackenzie hummed softly standing right next to Will, this was one of her favorite places to look out at and she use to beg her parents or Aiden to drive her out here.

“Really cool.” Will agreed and looked over at her seeing her smiling with her eyes closed looking peaceful as the wind hit her face.

Will took out his phone and took some pictures before he nudged her softly and she opened her eyes seeing him holding up his phone for a picture and she leaned closer resting her head on his shoulder and smiled at the camera.

Mackenzie and Will sat down on one of the ledges and just looked out together for a while.

Mackenzie stood up after a long while of sitting on the ledge and Will stood up with her, “Come on come look at this.” Mackenzie grabbed his hand and Will easily let her pull him to a fence that was filled with locks.

“Here’s mine.” Mackenzie showed Will an older little blue lock that she wrote Mack and the date her family moved down to San Jose.

Will smiled softly seeing how old the lock was and the handwriting was adorable especially the little shark drawing, he took a quick photo of the lock when Mackenzie looked away.

“There’s so many.” Will looked around at all of the locks, he has seen many fences filled with locks but nothing like this.

“And there is about to be one more.” Mackenzie grinned holding up a lock that she brought from will and handed him the red lock with a pen, “It’s a tradition. You live here now.” Mackenzie encouraged with a gentle smile.

Will shook his head fondly and grabbed the lock, He decided to write his first name and the year and glanced at Mackenzie and added a tiny WS and a MC next to it.

He smiled to himself and glanced once more at Mackenzie peaceful face and knew it was the right choice to add her initials.

“Finished?” Mackenzie asked as Will put the cap back on the pen and Will nodded, “Put it wherever you want.” Mackenzie told Will and watched as he clipped his lock right on her lock and her eyes softened and he looked back at her with a smile.

Will didn’t know the fence is called locks of love and a lot of couples put locks on together.

Will has denied it for years since the moment he knew Mackenzie committed to Boston University but he was lying to himself, He’s liked Mackenzie for years now and he doesn’t want to deny it anymore.

Watching her smile at him with a certain fondness he is sure he doesn’t deserve after he treated her, he knew he wasn’t gonna deny it anymore. Will Smith likes Mackenzie Celebrini, more than just a teammate.

That thought scared him a lot less than he thought it would.

Will laughed fondly hearing Mackenzie stomach rumble over the wind and shook his head ignoring his thoughts for bow and rested his hand on her lower back, “Let’s go get some food Mack.” He watched her sheepishly smile but nod.

Will and Mackenzie headed back to his car and Will opened the door for her making her glance at his for a second and shook her head smiling slightly and getting into the car.

“Where are we eating?” Will asked her as he turned the car and he knew she knows all the spots around here.

“Turn right up there.” Mackenzie told Will and she directed Will to one of her favorite little burger shack right on the beach and it’s somewhere she always goes after going to the bridge with her family.

Will and Mackenzie got out of his car and walked up to the little shack right on the beach, “If we share one fry is it still in our diet?” Mackenzie asked cheekily making Will laugh.

“I think it will be fine.” Will nodded very seriously with a teasing smile making Mackenzie beam.

“What about a milkshake?” Mackenzie asked with another mischievous smile.

“Hmm as long as it’s Oreo.” Will playfully responded making Mackenzie giggle.

Mackenzie and Will both ordered a burger and one side of regular french fries and a Oreo shake.

Will gently moved her hand way when she tried to pay, “My treat.” Will gave her a look and swiped his card.

“Fine but i pay next time.” Mackenzie gave him a look back.

Will tried to bite back a smile at her words next time and he knew he wouldn’t be paying next time.

Mackenzie and Will found a seat on the beach just as the sun was starting to set.

It was perfect their food came out as the sun was filled with oranges, pinks and purples.

Will watched Makenzie put two straws into their shake and the basket of fries was in the middle of them as they bit started eating.

Will glanced at Mackenzie, it felt like a date to him and he hoped maybe one day it could be a real date but for now he was content with what they have now.

Will immediately pulled out his phone after dropping off Mackenzie. He knew he needed to text Ryan or Gabe.

Smitty

I like Mack.

Ryan opened his phone and his jaw dropped and he immediately started smacking Gabe’s arm who was next to him. Gabe gave Ryan an annoyed look but looked down and his eyes widened seeing the text from Will.

Leon

FINNALLY!

God i thought you would never figure it out.

Ryan immediately opened a message to text Aiden about this development because Aiden and Ryan has become friends by watching Will flirting with Mackenzie and Aiden has been telling Ryan about Mackenzie texting Will all summer just like Ryan saw Will on his phone so much over the summer.

Will chuckled shaking his head at Ryan being Ryan.

Smitty

Was i that obvious?

Leon

You flirted with on the ice.

Which terrible flirting by the way it was embarrassing to watch.

Will just shook his head at Ryan’s chirping.

[0nsyu]

To share a quote from the tattoo artist:

Shisa and Hibiscus This, like Rikiya's, is a design that brings the essence of Okinawa to the forefront. It resembles the standard karajishi seen in irezumi, but the way its ears stand up, among other things, differs subtly. — Horitomo

Taking into account the rest of Horitomo's commentary on his designs (featured in the 10th and 15th anniversary books), as well as commentary from Yokoyama, there is for sure a wealth of evidence for the idea the tattoos are meant to represent the characters in question! I've always felt Yakuza 3's are particularly well-thought out and Nakahara's is no exception, coinciding with Yokoyama's estimation that his writing got a lot tighter overall from that game on.

Lot of good points brought up here, and there are a few things that come to mind about the origins and cultural context surrounding the shisa I'd like to add.

Firstly, shisa are not considered a form of komainu. The two are thought to have evolved separately from the shishi/karajishi at different times. "Shisa" is the Okinawan pronunciation of "shishi," and they're called "shiishii" in Yaeyaman. "Komainu," on the other hand, is chiefly thought to suggest the idea was brought to Japan via Goryeo/Koma, or perhaps more broadly the area around mainland China according to some.

Komainu came to be some time after shishi were brought to Japan from China. Shishi originally came in symmetrical, open-mouthed pairs, but thanks to Japanese sensibilities favoring asymmetry, "shishi-komainu" pairs (with an open-mouthed shishi on the right and a close-mouthed komainu on the left) became popular.

They have other differences, of course: komainu may or may not have horns while shishi never do, among other things, but a number of their features have become muddled in meaning and difficult to distinguish. The term "shishi-komainu" for the pair has in a sense become just "shishi" or "komainu" colloquially because of this, with the distinction between shishi and komainu only being made if they physically differ from one another in a way that's recognized. If you see one with a beribboned ball (like the one pictured in your post above, actually) and one with a cub, though, that's a male and female shishi/komainu respectively.

Shisa were brought to Okinawa from China around the time (or shortly after) the asymmetry between male and female was established, which may be why the open-mouthed and close-mouthed variants came to denote gender instead of species, but that one's entirely speculation on my part. Another difference between shisa and shishi-komainu is that they actually don't come in pairs as often as the game suggests; more often, sure, but there are plenty of examples of lone shisa.

This relates to the final difference I want to highlight for this post, which is that while shishi-komainu guard the emperor and the divine, shisa guard villages and homes; lone shisa were often erected to guard against fires, while pairs were erected to ward off evil. Famously, the lone Tomori shisa, the oldest recorded stone shisa in Okinawa, was used as a shield by US military forces spying on Japanese military forces during WWII. Today, the bullet holes that mark its surface have faded considerably.

So I do think it's interesting that Nakahara has a lone shisa. Shisa are, after all, often tattooed in pairs, on both sides of the chest or on the arms. Where that leads me personally, though, isn't that Kiryu represents the missing half of the pair. With regard to Saki, Kiryu doesn't say a word to her outside of Premium Adventure, and he leaves her care to Rikiya and Mikio, Haruka who volunteers, even the other orphanage kids—everyone but himself, essentially. And she's only staying at the Morning Glory for a week or less before Nakahara gets better, most of which Kiryu is in Kamurocho for. The oryu, like the shishi-komainu, is loyal to the emperor (in this case, Daigo as sixth chairman, a reading Mine's tattoo reinforces) and leaves his responsibilities behind to attend to him.

But it's not specific to Kiryu. To me, no one person represents the missing half of the pair, because there is no missing half of the pair. Nakahara is the lone shisa that guards not just his daughter and his men but his community, a community that loves him and his men and his daughter in return, in stark contrast to most other yakuza organizations in the series. And like the lone Tomori shisa, with its bullet holes from a conflict Nakahara is not even one generation removed from, his must have faded by now too.

Shigeru Nakahara's tattoo being a shīsā (J. シーサー), a regional form of the komainu (J. 狛犬), is actually really cute, and I like how it's surrounded by an Okinawan floral motif.

Shīsā are these iconic Buddhist creatures that you can find in a lot of Japanese shrines and other sacred sites. They're supposed to be protectors that almost always come in pairs. Earlier, you can encounter a substory with a married couple looking for the partner of a shīsā statue that they bought alone that introduces the player to this concept.

What I like about Nakahara's shīsā is that it's alone, he only has one on his back, but as a character he's defined by two particularly strong bonds. One is with Saki, his adoptive daughter, the character he is protecting and whom the desire to protect acts as a power up here, and the other with Kiryu, who is implicitly, in my nerd headcanon here, being positioned as the counterpart guardian during this storyline.

I may be totally off here but I want to believe this is the case because it is more evidence to my growing Yakuza Tattoos Are Advanced Fursonas Theory.

I also just think it's a really cute design for a fat old Okinawa jiji to have.

*the komainu are themselves a regional form of a broader East Asian concept, and I'm pretty sure but not certain that "komainu" itself is a portmanteau meaning "Korean dog," and they're also sometimes referred to as karajishi, meaning "Chinese lion." This is not to say that the symbolism and narratives associated with them are universal!! It's kind of like how gumiho (K. 구미호) foxes in Korean mythology tend to be real assholes who turn into hot women to eat your guts, while their role in Japanese mythology is influenced by the Inari Ōkami (J. 稲荷大神) fox religion.

Shīsā specifically have a lot of Ryukyuan religious influence, and tend to be gendered, with the male having his mouth closed to keep evil out and the female having her mouth open to let good in, though I've heard the reverse. Shīsā can be found in Okinawa on gateposts to non-religious buildings just like Morning Glory, and have been built for a variety of reasons like warding off fires. According to Ryukyuan legend, they were even used to ward off dragons.

Mythology and culture are super complex living things and I'm being very very very broad here. I apologize if I'm incorrect, I am just a student. Please be nice to me.

[metaldevilll]

vivilly thoughts in my brained

[entitled-fangirl]

Tradition.

Cregan Stark x Pregnant!reader

Summary: the reader and Cregan go to King's Landing to support her nephew, Luke's, Velaryon claim. She goes into early labor away from the North.

Warnings: Aegon is his own warning, body shaming, talks of brothels and stuff, labor, blood, death, fighting, all that stuff.

A/n: Based on an ask! I'll proofread later 😭

Masterlist

.......................................................

Cregan held out his hand to help his very pregnant wife out of the carriage. 

He absolutely hated riding by carriage. It seemed pointless when you could ride a horse instead. But when summoned to King's Landing by King Viserys with his Targaryen wife to join the rest of her family, he had to guarantee her safety on the travel by any means necessary.

Alicent's face lit up at the sight of her daughter, practically running over Cregan to get to her. She embraced the pregnant woman tightly, "Oh, my love! How you've changed!" 

Y/n hugged her mother back just as firmly with a smile, "I've missed you, mother."

Alicent pulled away and admired her grown girl, "King's Landing is better with you here." Only then did Alicent notice Cregan, "Oh. Lord Stark."

Cregan bowed his head politely, "My queen."

"Cregan has been eager to see King's Landing again," Y/n chirped in, "He has only been a few times."

Alicent's brows lifted, "Really? I wouldn't have thought that."

He nodded, "I could've been patient enough to wait until after the birth, but alas, when the King calls, you answer."

Alicent gave a forced smile, "Right. Of course. The birth." She looked to her daughter, "How far along are you, my dear?"

"Nearing eight moons now," she said nervously with a hand on her swollen stomach.

Alicent didn't miss the equally nervous and protective look in Cregan's eyes.

…

Dinner that night was beyond tense. 

What was joy for Viserys was misery for everyone else.

Watching the king decay at the table and the rest of them squabble over trivial matters that seemed of great importance.

"A toast to the young princes and their betrothed."

Aegon leaned over to his nephew Jace, "Well done, Jace. You'll finally get to lie with a woman."

A glare was sent his way by Jace and Baela.

Y/n caught on and quickly looked to Aemond, who sipped his wine with no reaction.

"You do know how the act is done, I assume?" Aegon continued. "At least, in principle. Where to put your cock and all that?"

Jace's jaw clenched, "You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed."

"Aegon." Y/n hissed through her teeth across the table.

His head immediately snapped to his sister in annoyance, "What?"

"Let it alone."

He scoffed lightly, "What do you mean? I'm only asking." He gained a grin, "It's not like I have to ask Lord Stark that. Look at the state of you!" He gestured to her swollen belly.

Cregan's grip on his fork tightened, turning his knuckles white. 

She placed a hand over her stomach and grimaced, "At least I was able to find a husband that wanted me. Mother had to force you to marry the only girl around, and that was Helaena."

Aegon gave an incredible glare, one that his sibling shot back.

Aemond became amused.

"Let us not fight at the table," Alicent reprimanded lightly.

Y/n looked to Jace, who gave a small nod of gratitude.

Silence filled the room until the King's long monologue of the need for peace in the house. 

Rhaenyra and Alicent gave small and seemingly back-handed toasts but Y/n was too set on the continuous mischievous look in her brother's eye.

And she called it right when he stood and moved to whisper in Baela's ear.

It was clear that it was muttered with the intention of riling up Jace, which it did quite well.

He stood up in anger, slamming his fist on the table.

Cregan, who had remained entirely silent thus far, instinctually moved a hand across his wife as if shielding her and the child.

The tense toasts only got worse from there.

Luckily, the music seemed to drown out the intensity, as well as Jace's good gesture of faith in dancing with Helaena. 

Y/n leaned over to Aemond, "Brother."

His brow raised as his eye traveled to look at her.

"It has been… long since I've seen you. I see you've faired quite well."

He hummed lightly, "I see you've… managed."

She could feel Cregan's intense gaze from behind her, "Wh…what do you mean?"

Aemond smirked and leaned in to where only the two Starks could hear him, "Inpregnanted by a brute-"

Cregan's jaw clenched so hard he feared for his teeth. His voice was a hushed whisper, but still held furiously to it, "Watch your words."

Y/n held Cregan's shoulder, "Let us not do this here."

Aemond smirked with Cregan sighed and leaned back in his chair.

When Viserys was escorted from the room due to his pain, Y/n decided to leave as well, and Cregan behind her.

They claimed a pregnancy illness and Rhaenyra smirked, knowing she'd used the same card many times.

…

Cregan helped her into bed, "I don't understand their need to crawl under everyone's skin like beetles."

She sighed, "They've never known life outside of a castle, Cregan. They've never been told no, and they never will. It's best to let it go."

"They mock us both. My name has been through dirt, blood, and tears, and I do not care, but yours?" He scoffed, "I will not stand by the next time you are mocked."

"It is only for a little while longer," she rebutted.

"Know that I do this for you, and only you, my love."

She smiled, "That's all I ask."

…

"The north has done a number on you, really," Aegon said as he appeared at her side.

She tilted her head, "I don't know what you mean."

He shrugged, "You're…" he then gestured his arms widely. "I dunno… well indulged?"

She pushed down the tears that welled up in her eyes, "Why do you care?"

He scoffed and leaned in towards her, "You know how many friends of mine asked for whores that looked like you? Many."

"And?"

"And?" He asked mockingly. "And? Who wants to fuck a whore that looks like you now?"

Her jaw went slack for a moment, completely shocked by his words. 

Finally, with now watery eyes, she spoke. "You're the worst kind of man, Aegon."

"Oh? And what kind is that?"

A sudden punch came from nowhere, landing on Aegon's jaw and sending him to the ground. 

Cregan stood over the man's body, a predatory look in his eyes and a murderous tone in his voice, "One that can't defend his fucking words."

Y/n pulled Cregan back, "Stop!"

He wanted to fight against her, but he knew better. His shoulders rolled back and he stood tall. 

She cursed under her breath as she took in exactly what had unfolded, "They could have your head for this, Cregan."

"Only if your brother wishes to defend his words against me again," Cregan scoffs as he looks down at the man.

Aegon sits up and huffs, wiping his nose that begins to leak blood. "Northern brute-"

"-Aegon!" She reprimands. 

Cregan glared at Aegon for a while, then scoffed and walked off a few steps to calm himself.

Aegon stands on shaky legs as he glares at his sister, "I liked you better when you lacked a guard dog."

Cregan immediately turned back to the man with a look that said he was ready to murder him. As he stepped forward, Aegon stepped back as he began to regret his words.

"Take me to our chambers, Cregan," she lightly pleaded. 

The wolf of the north only stared for a while before nodding, "Lead the way."

She sighed as she gave a final look to her brother. "Clean yourself up. You look like shit."

…

Standing behind Rhaenyra, Y/n and Cregan whispered idly to Daemon when someone would comment something out of hand. 

Luke's legitimacy was coming into question, and though the Starks knew the truth, they would not dare pry the inheritance from the boy's hands. That was not their place. So next to Daemon they stood as petitions were made to and against him.

Daemon leaned in to speak to Y/n, "how far along did you say you were?"

"Eight moons now," she whispered back.

Daemon let out a surprised grunt. "You're to have the child here then? That seems unlike you."

"Uncle, my father insisted I come, and I have. Whether the child is born in the North or the South, it is a Targaryen and Stark all the same."

He smiled lightly, "I suppose you're right. If you wish for someone to accompany Lord Stark to the dragon pit to choose a proper egg for the child, only say the word."

Cregan, who had been listening quietly, now leaned in, "I am to choose an egg?"

"It is tradition," she explained. "It can be before, during, or after the birth, but the father chooses the egg. If… If you would wish to continue that tradition."

He grinned, "I'd be delighted to try."

When Vaemond Valaryon stepped up forward to speak his mind, the Starks quieted. 

He spoke in anger, trying to take Luke's right. 

Y/n looked past him to her mother and siblings. 

Aegon looked like he'd rather be doing anything else. He didn't care the outcome of this ordeal. Aemond watched intensely with his one eye, taking in every detail. And Helaena… sweet Helaena. 

She needed to visit her and the children soon.

"And her children are…" Vaemond paused.

The room stilled.

"Say it," Daemon whispered under his breath.

"Her children are BASTARDS!" He screamed.

Y/n jumped back in surprise as Cregan's steady hands caught her waist.

"And she. Is. a. Whore." Vaemond finished.

The air in the room stilled and became stuffy as the tension reached an all time high.

Viserys stood on unstable legs as he unsheathed his dagger, "I will have… your tongue for this."

A sudden slice moved through the air, and half of Vaemond's head was gone.

Blood splattered across the ones' nearest, meaning the Starks. Cregan let out an annoyed grunt.

"He can keep his tongue," Daemon said proudly as he lowered his sword.

Y/n rested a hand over her swollen stomach with a shaky hand, trying to ignore the blood that began to seep into her clothes. 

Cregan leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Are you alright?"

"I… I want to go," she shuddered back.

He nodded, looking around as the crowd began to whisper amongst themselves. He held a hand firmly against her back as she became to let out an uncomfortable whine.

"Cregan, please," she whispered.

"Alright. Alright, let's go, my love," he said as he tried to move her through the crowd.

But her legs faltered as she let out a pained noise.

He caught her in panic, "Are you in pain?"

"The babe…"

No longer caring for proper manners, Cregan stood tall and looked over the crowd. "MOVE!" He yelled out.

The people quieted and moved as Cregan helped his wife through the room and out of the doors.

Alicent only saw a brief glimpse of her daughter's silver hair go through the doors, and she was on edge. She ran through the crowd to follow behind them.

He held onto his wife's arm with one hand and held her waist with the other, trying to support her as they moved to their chambers.

Y/n let out a gasp, and her water broke.

Alicent caught up to them and grabbed her daughter's other arm. "It's alright. You're alright." She turned to a servant and ordered him to get the maester. 

Sweat began to break out of the poor woman's forehead as the weight of what is happening began to settle. 

Once on her bed, Cregan refused to move from her side, Alicent as well. Alicent rubbed soothingly across her daughter's forehead as Cregan paced at the foot of the bed.

The maester and midwives came quickly, immediately moving to the woman in labor.

"My lord, it is best if you remain outside," one of them said.

Cregan's brows furrowed in confusion. "Out… Outside?"

Alicent chipped in, "It is tradition. The husband waits outside of the doors."

He stared at Y/n in thought. Tradition. How that word weighed on them like boulders. 

"Alright."

…

He tried to ignore the sounds of her cries as he stood in the corridor. 

Nothing could ease his worries. 

In the North, it was not uncommon to be by their wife's side. 

This was unusual to him.

"My lord," a midwife questioned as she poked her head from the room.

His eyes widened, "Is she alright?"

"The child is… having trouble, my lord."

That was Cregan's greatest fear. The maester in Winterfell had spent endless hours with Cregan to determine a plan for if such a thing were to occur. Now he was without a plan entirely.

"Alright?" He finally breathed.

"What do you wish for us to do?"

"What options do I have?" He spoke barely above a whisper.

The midwife gave him an empathetic look. "We can cut the child out-"

"-No." He was quick with his answer, the very thought of taking a blade to her seeming the greatest sin he could commit.

"Um… it will be painful, but we can help her force the child out."

"Is that safe for her?"

The midwife shrugged lightly, "More than any other option I can give you."

He nodded.

She gave a weak smile and moved back into the room, but Cregan caught the door before it closed and forced his way in.

At the sight of his wife, he felt as if a blade went into his own stomach.

She was crying in pain, the midwives forcing her hips down as she tried to move away from the pain, as if that was possible.

At the sight of him, her entire face relaxed, "Cregan…"

He moved to her side, "I'm here. How can I help?"

Alicent glared slightly at him. 

"They won't… I can't…" Y/n whimpered out.

"They won't what?" He looked up to Alicent, "What are they doing?"

"She wishes to get up. We cannot have her standing," she explained.

Cregan was thrown off by that. "She cannot? W… Why ever not?" When in labor with him, Cregan's mother was said to have walked the length of Winterfell 3x over. 

"It hurts… please, Cregan…" 

He nodded as his expression hardened. "Let her stand."

The maester shook his head, "She is nearing the labor. She should not-"

"-She wishes to stand. She will stand."

Alicent spoke up. "Lord Stark-"

"-This is my wife and child. If she wishes to walk, then she will," he barked. 

A fire lit behind the queen's eyes. "She will not."

The midwives watched the tension grow.

Finally, Cregan calmly reached down and began to help his wife sit up.

Alicent cursed under her breath and grabbed Cregan's wrist in an effort to stop him.

Cregan's eyes slowly moved up to Alicent's face as anger began to overcome him. 

But she was first to speak. "You are no longer in the North. You abide by our traditions when you are here."

He'd heard enough of that word for a lifetime. 

His words came out sharper than he intended, but he cared little to soften them. "Your family is made of vipers and cutthroats. When I take my wife and child back to Winterfell, it will truly be a miracle if you ever see them again, for I will not let her sit and be neglected and tormented. I am a brute, but I am not without heart. Now, Let. Go."

Alicent reluctantly let go.

Cregan helped Y/n sit, and she immediately felt relief. "I want to walk," she panted.

He nodded, practically holding her up as she stood. "We will walk the corridor and return." His voice had no room for argument.

Once they paced the corridor a few times, she was returned to the bed, only to find that Alicent had left. Cregan only cared about it when he noticed the tinge of sadness that moved over his laboring wife.

But he was quick to fill the gap. As she moved back to the bed, Cregan sat behind her and held her against his chest, messaging anywhere that began to ache.

The labor came soon after that. Cregan held her close as she screamed in pain and gripped his wrists. She surely left bruises.

"The babe is crowning, princess," the midwife exclaimed. "Keep pushing."

The pain came in waves that made her see white. 

Cregan began to panic when the midwives gave one another a look. "What?"

"She is not pushing hard enough."

Y/n began to cry in frustration.

"She is pushing," Cregan sighed. "What else is there to do?"

One of them reached up and began to push on her stomach, prompting the princess to cry harder as the pain multiplied. 

"Allow me," Cregan shifted her in his hold and carefully placed his hands where the midwife had, slowly applying pressure to the same place.

As Y/n screamed and cried, Cregan placed assuring kisses against her neck and cheek and whispered calming words to her. "You're doing well."

If the pain had not been so bad, she may have blushed.

…

Cregan held the baby close to his chest as his wife slept.

"My lord," a servant finally entered and interrupted the silence. "The queen has requested to see the child."

An annoyed feeling washed over the man. Of course, she wished to. 

The servant took note of his changed demeanor, "I can take-"

"-No," he countered. "I will go myself. Should my wife awaken in my absence, give her anything she desires."

His heavy feet stormed from the room and he walked to the queen's chambers.

Alicent turned and shock overcame her. "Lord Stark. I did not expect you to-"

"-Neither did I."

The two stared at one another for a moment before Alicent's eyes wandered to the bundle in the large lord's arms. "Healthy?"

"The very picture."

She nodded, unsure of what to say next.

"A boy," Cregan stated.

"A boy?" Alicent whispered. Any thoughts of annoyance were past to her, and she walked to the lord and eagerly looked at the child.

The baby was indeed the picture of health. Bright purple eyes looked up at the two. Dark hair sat atop his head.

"He's quite northern," she stated.

"Indeed." Cregan was sure she meant it as an insult, but he could care less. The thought of such a gift as a northern boy filled him with pride. 

"Congratulations, Lord Stark."

He nodded. "Your daughter is fine as well."

Alicent moved away from Cregan and sat down. "That is a blessing. To all of us. She will be a perfect mother."

"Aye, she will."

The tension between the two was evident, but they wouldn't let it dull the excitement of the newest addition to the line.

"I should return to my wife."

"Please, do."

Cregan moved to the door.

"Lord Stark?" She asked.

"Yes?"

Alicent stared at him and then the babe. "Thank you. For caring for her. And now him. You are a better man than most."

Cregan sighed. It wasn't a compliment, but it was something. "Thank you, my queen. She will want for nothing until my dying breath."

"This is all I wished for her."

......................................................

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[inmontana]

"yeah, baby, i bet." rip agrees, because he already knows he will and he doesn't deny that he probably deserves it- because he knows her too damn well to think for even a second that she would let him get away with it- because he doesn't expect her to- but mostly because he's a little too preoccupied with laying claim to the woman who has claimed him since the valleys of their youth and he'll take all the hell she plans to give him for the rest of his life and then some if he can continue to be allowed to call her his. his breath is hot in the crux where her neck meets her shoulder. one hand busies itself by sliding up the rove of her left breast, palming over it on the way past, before curving her shoulder to pull the blouse out of his way entirely once she finishes unbuttoning it. his other hand descends lower to squeeze her thigh. but it doesn't last there for very long. he seeks out her pool of warmth with deft fingers, middle finger pressing against the sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs- and he grins against her skin- and that very same finger then ventures lower between her folds like he's mapping out every inch of her to sink slowly into the awaiting heat. if his breath was hot before, it's scorching now as the feel of her walls encompass not one, but two of his digits, and rip lets a groan of satisfaction tumble into her. god- doesn't matter if it's dick or his finger or his fucking tongue, he relishes in how she wraps around him. he thrusts his fingers in and out of her with a painstakingly unhurriedness to start. they have all night to go but he wants to take his time. it's been too fucking long since he'd last had his fill of her. they curl, tips pressing into that softened pad of skin just a few inches past her opening. with them hooked and fingers gyrating in one place he uses his other hand to gently pull her closer to the edge of the countertop. needs her there for the plans he has for her and his mouth. and not a single one of them have to do with talking.

she is wrapped around him like a vice, coiled snake-like with her legs bent over his hips and her arms wound around his neck as she kisses his hairline tenderly- she can feel the tension shift, in the air, in her body. beth was a viper ready to strike and now she is a cat all but purring as he strokes her so familiarly. she doesn't mind the gentle bite of his teeth on her collar, the marks he's left on her previously were more intimate, hidden high on her thighs or in the swell of her breast- meant only for her to see as she changed in the days after and him to ruminate over in her absence. there is no hiding anything tonight, it seems. heart laid bare and love declared, she has already given him her body to do with as he pleased, there's no reason for him not to claim what's his so blatantly. later, beth will think about consideration and subtlety, but that is a concern for a future her- as she kisses him and he adopts the endearment that slipped on her tongue, beth sighed. equally stupid as him, but the sound she makes is stupid happy. another shiver runs down the length of her spine at the name they're apparently now sharing and her breath passes through the parting of her lips heavily when he starts pulling the fabric of her skirt down. "yeah- all night?" beth teased coyly, jade eyes alight with something undefinable as she parted her legs enough to release him from her hold, giving him the opportunity to peel it from her body with the slight shift of her hips to help it down. she welcomes him back between her legs but bats away his hands as he moves them- she wants him on her, all over her- her hands replace his at the buttons of her blouse. "i got it," beth panted, her head falling back as she felt him mouth at the hollow of her neck. "you're gonna pay for that shit later, ya know." telling him with the smallest touch of humour finally bleeding into her voice. this is not a distraction. this is a reprieve they both desperately need- the pin is in, for now.