#mc: reve

[bittwitchy]

CSiblings: Andrew Lee Potts and Sebastian Stan

[reveluving]

i'll show you little by little

summary: why not spend your day off with a little TLC with your wannabe sherlock?

pairing: m!trystan thorne x f!mc (written as ‘you’, no name usage)

warnings: teen (t); none, really. just poetic, but make it tooth-rottingly fluffy & comfort!

a/n: contributing to our favourite royalty because he deserves it (& 'cause I can't find any open f!mc for him—) as usual, the MC can be yourself or an OC of yours! i love this man as much as the next person, so please, don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» fancy reading another choices fic? check out my m.list!

'He just wants you to know that he’s with you every step of the way.' ;

Imagine waking up with Trystan on a day off. It’s been a minute since you’ve gotten the time just to sit back and unwind, so as soon as you’re presented with one, Trystan takes it as an opportunity to spoil you, and it all begins by turning off your alarm when he knows you’ve forgotten to do so yourself.

But with how busy you’ve been for the past couple of months or so, your body clock forced you to wake up hours before your usual time. 

That doesn’t deter him though, because as soon as he feels you stretch, no matter how hard you try to avoid waking him up, he’ll instinctively wrap his arms around you, nuzzling the back of your neck with a deep, groggy “morning”. It’s not hard to convince you to stay, especially when you’ve got your furnace for a partner to keep you warm in between the cold sheets; the best of both worlds. 

The muted blue sky, too, only persuaded you to stay in bed—no longer nighttime but not exactly morning just yet. 

Like any other morning, it’s not the most silent, with the occasional honks and beeps of the road—where the world was beneath you. It's just you and him now. He knows that you know you’re strong, almost too dedicated to your job but so much more empathetic than any front liners out there.

He’ll tell you if he knows you need a little boost, but the sharing of smiles and lazy kisses speaks louder than words. 

As soon as he notices you spacing out, possibly thinking about recent cases that may have hit you harder than usual, you’ll feel his lips—kissing the crown of your head, on your temple, your jaw, anywhere; slow and deliberate. His cold fingertips brushing your skin with feather touches, just to hear your sweet giggles or even a huff of amusement.

Anything to keep you grounded, and anything to reassure himself. Not a single sign of him rushing you to come to terms with whatever was bothering you.

He just wants you to know that he’s with you every step of the way. 

And he’ll do much more; bringing your hand up to his lips. With the help of the lights of the bustling town, he makes sure to hold your gaze as he plants even more kisses; starting with the inside of your palm, to your fingers, then to the back of your hand before trailing his lips up your arm the way Gomez would show his affection to the love of his life, Morticia. 

He loves it when you lightly run your nails over his shoulders, a sign that you, too, were with him, in more ways than one. It sends shivers down his spine the same way a breeze would on a chilly day. 

The two of you would just stay in each other’s arms for hours, just until you could see the first rays of sunlight, and even then, you'd have to convince him. The second the rays hit your eyes, he'll pull you to his chest, closer than you already are, as if protecting you from the first sign of reality. 

But as mentioned, if you’re planning to get out of bed real soon, you’ll have to fight for it.

“What’s the rush?” Trystan mumbled against your skin, planting a kiss on your shoulder for the umpteenth time.

“Are you going to be like this the entire day?” You asked with a chuckle.

"Depends," He hummed, pretending to think for a moment, "Was that an offer?"

And before slipping out of his hold, he whispers an “I love you” in your ear before letting you go. 

Breakfast is another story. Just before he enters the shower after you did, he’ll jokingly tell you not to lift a finger in the kitchen because he’ll do the cooking, though you can tell that he’s also serious about it. 

So, that’s what you did—not make breakfast, but he didn’t say you couldn’t do just a bit of work while waiting for him, and boy, was the look on his face comical.

“What did I tell you?” He grumbled, the slight pout telling you that he was more so disappointed than anywhere close to being angry.

“You didn’t say anything about a quick homework,” You countered playfully as you glanced up at him. You craned your neck, prompting him to lean in to accept your reassuring peck on his lips, “I won’t take long. Just for today.”

I promise.

He’ll huff but says nothing more as he immediately does his thing. Some good ol’ pancakes with an array of toppings. Though simple (and very Americanized compared to the ones in Drakovia), it eventually grew to be his comfort food since his exile, if he's the one who made it, that is. 

A reminder that picking himself back up would start somewhere small, and now he gets to share that same comfort with you. 

It didn’t help that your seat was facing the stove, so your quick glances at him became subconscious stares. Stares that Trystan thrived on, especially after locking eyes with your embarrassed ones with a knowing look.

“Your breakfast, beautiful.” He placed a stack of pancakes and an empty plate for you before laying out the toppings on a charcuterie board—maple syrup, fancy butter, fresh fruits, your favourite proteins and even went as far as whipping his own cream rather than the canned one sitting pretty in his fridge. 

Of course, you took the opportunity to stare at his muscles for a bit as he whipped the crème Chantilly by hand. 

“Thank you.” You made sure to really show your appreciation by looking up at him, a grateful smile gracing your lips. It pleases him, but not enough, not when you’re still reading the file. 

He won’t go so far as taking it out of your hands, but what he’ll do is sit close to you, plating your favourite combo before cutting a piece of it.

“Open up,” He said, holding the forkful of pancake to your lips, chuckling under his breath when you looked at him in mild surprise. As if you weren’t used to the fact that he was a passionate partner, no matter how long you’ve been together. You couldn’t help but share the same amusement as well, bashfully opening your mouth for the food he had thoughtfully made.

One forkful became two, and two became more, before you eventually closed the file, plating your own with Trystan's favourites before feeding him too.

» tagging @choicesficwriterscreations for fic of the week ;; & the gorgeous blue rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

[reveluving]

“C’mon! Pick me up. Gimme a kiss,” he says, puckering his lips, coaxing you with kissy sounds.

This shit is so unhinged and I mean it in the best, most affectionate way possible!! I can't tell you how much this crazy idea alone has made my morning!

And omg the smut??

Amy. Babe. I am both terrified and aroused HAHAHAHA that's crazy. 12/10 for headless Homie. ✨💗

Trick & Treat

18+ 2.1k Dullahan!Homelander x F!Reader. established relationship, body horror, dirty talk, cunnilingus, cream pie. written for monsterlander mania

A world in which all supes are the results of humans experimenting on one another with the blood of Fae from the Seelie Courts. Homelander is one such amalgamation, and as a result of his Gan Ceann blood, he has a particularly neat party trick to show you. 

Homelander always kisses you like he means to devour you. You’re certain he could, especially when your teeth touch the sharp juts of his canines. Never do they seem more like fangs than when he’s dragging them along your throat, licking the salt from your skin with a wicked, hungry noise.

“You said you were going to show me a trick,” you remind him with a giggle, carding your fingers through his hair.

“Mmmm, that I did,” he hums, walking into you, forcing you backwards until the back of your legs bump his bed. You laugh as he gives you a gentle push, sending you down onto the plush bedding with a bounce. “Think you can handle it? It’s an awfully spooky trick,” he warns, those fangs of his flashing in a brilliantly white smile.

Sitting up, you scoot forward on the bed so that you can begin working his belt loose. “I’ve handled everything else you’ve thrown at me, haven’t I?”

Dating Homelander has more or less been a gauntlet of how many strange quirks you can endure from a single partner. You’ve grown accustomed to his fussiness when it comes to the rules of hospitality, his severe aversion to any and all iron, his penchant for milk–he likes it best when you leave it out for him unprompted–and most importantly of all, his deep love of jokes and trickery.

“True,” he supposes, cupping either side of your face. He strokes the rise of your cheeks, smiling down at you with the kind of tenderness that makes your stomach flip.

Returning his smile, you tug at the zipper of his pants, but he stops you. “Ah ah ah. I’ll be the one giving you head tonight, missy. But first,” he says, which tells you he most definitely has a scheme in mind. “Undress for me.”

Huffing a playful breath, you withdraw your hands and instead pull off your own shirt. You shimmy out of your pants and underthings next, leveling Homelander with an expectant look once you’re fully undressed. He lets out a low whistle, leaning down to kiss you. “It’s like a self-opening present. Never gets old,” he says, nipping at your bottom lip.

“What’s the trick?” You ask, bouncing lightly on the bed. 

He laughs. “So impatient! Fine, fine, alright, Christ,” he says, reaching up to the collar of his suit. He unzips a concealed zipper, and tugs the opening loose. Watching you, he places both hands flat over his temples, and gives you one last lingering look, lips curled in a devious grin. “Y’ready?”

Apprehension crawls into your gut and nestles there, your own smile faltering slightly. “Ready…”

You jump when he snaps his head to the side with a strange sound. It almost sounded like the tear of velcro, and before you can question what the hell it was, the wind is knocked completely from you when he lifts his head clean off his neck. No connective tissue, no blood, no gore. He simply holds his head up like a trophy, the bottom of it an empty, black abyss.

“Surprise!” He says, his disembodied head still grinning as he suddenly holds it out to you.

You scream, scrambling back on the bed, your eyes wide. “What the fuck! Oh my god, what the fuck? What the fuck, Homelander!?”

He starts laughing, kneeling on the bed. “Whaaat? I thought you liked tricks,” he says, placing his head on the bed while he adjusts his collar. “Yeah, we don’t advertise this one too much. Freaks people out,” he says, rolling his eyes. It’s beyond surreal to watch him emote like this, his neck cushioned by the bedding while his body continues to operate behind him.

Mouth agape, you continue to stare at him, a morbid curiosity slipping in amidst the horror. “How… How is this possible?”

“Same bullshit that makes flight and laser vision possible,” he says, watching you. It takes you a moment, but beyond the perverse enjoyment of your shock, you’re sure you see a flicker of apprehension in his expression. He’s waiting, you realize.

Waiting to see how you’ll respond. If you’ll reject him.

These are often the stages of your relationship with Homelander. He parts the curtain of himself bit by bit, daring you to flee with each confession about his existence. This is by far the most alarming reveal so far.

“Does it hurt?” You ask, the tension in your body easing.

He looks surprised, as if no one has ever asked him that before. Behind him, his body shrugs. “Uh, nope. Feels like stretching.”

“This is insane,” you say, crawling towards his head. Of all the things supes are capable of, you’ve never seen anything like this.

His smile slowly returns. “Pick me up.”

Your expression blanches. “What?”

“C’mon! Pick me up. Gimme a kiss,” he says, puckering his lips, coaxing you with kissy sounds.

Oh god.

“I…” You sigh. “...Alright, I’ll… Okay. Let me just…” You slip your hands behind his jaw, cupping the back of his neck, using your thumbs to brace him from tipping forward. “Oh, god, okay, I don’t want to drop–your head is really heavy,” you grunt, surprised by the density of it.

“Thirteen pounds, baby,” he confirms proudly.

“I was sure all the hot air would lessen the load,” you say, hefting him up to your eye level.

“Veeery funny,” he drawls. “Kissy time.”

After one last beat of hesitation, you lean in, bringing him close as you do. Closing your eyes, kissing him feels like it always does. His lips are as hungry for yours as ever, coaxing them into a dance. If not for the weight of all thirteen pounds of his head in your hands, you might forget anything was different at all.

Distracted, you don’t notice the bed dip behind you until you feel Homelander’s gloved hands on you, pulling your back to his chest, startling you. “God,” you gasp as you look back, a shiver running up your spine at the image of his headless torso poised behind you. “That is so fucking scary,” you say, returning your gaze to his head in your hands.

“Relax, babe,” he purrs, licking his lips. “You got your trick. It’s only fair you get a treat now.”

“What do you–oh!” You startle at the press of his fingers between your thighs, grip tightening on his skull. “You seriously want to–to fool around like this?” You ask, unable to do anything but fall back against his chest while his fingertips stroke your clit, his other hand sliding up your side, cupping your breast.

“Do I seriously want to eat your pretty pussy while I fuck you? Uh, yeah. I do,” he says, which admittedly lights a spark right at your core. “C’mon, sweetheart. Like this,” he says, taking his hand from your chest to grab a handful of his own hair, pushing your hold on him down, bringing his head between your legs. He nudges your knees further apart with his own, and brings himself close enough to drag his tongue over your clit, glancing up to watch you shiver, the glint in his eyes downright wicked.

“This is so weird,” you say, but it fades off into a moan as his tongue swirls. He only stops so that he can suck his own fingers into his mouth, thoroughly wetting them before he returns to licking your clit while his spit-slick fingers stroke your cunt, rubbing back and forth a moment before slowly sliding in.

Your head falls back against his shoulder, hips jerking. “Oh, ffffuck…”

It’s almost like being in bed with two different people at once. Homelander is as voracious as ever, licking and sucking every drop that spills from you. You feel his tongue lap at where your pussy is stretched around his fingers before dragging back to your clit, lips closing on it while the pointed tip of his tongue swirls.

“That’s it,” he says between the drags of his tongue. “Taste so fuckin’ good, babe. Ready for me?” He asks, slipping his fingers free. You’re not left hanging for long, the wet head of his cock eagerly nudging your pussy. He moans at that first hot press, giving a playful little growl as he nuzzles against your cunt, sucking hungrily at your clit.

“Yeah, yes, yes, m’ready,” you pant, thighs shaking. His head is getting heavy, but his tongue feels too good to let go of, or even adjust. “Don’t stop, keep–keep doing that.” He eagerly complies, humming against you while the head of his cock splits you open in one slow delicious slide.

You’ve had his head between your legs, and you’ve had the fullness of him inside you, but never could you have imagined both at once. The sheer heat of him is overwhelming, and you shudder bodily against him. His arms move to either side of you, and he nudges your hands out of the way, taking his head from them and relieving you of the weight.

“Touch me,” he groans against you, bracing you firmly in place within the bracket of his arms. You do so readily, slipping one hand into his hair while your other falls to his thigh, gripping it tight. He snaps his hips harder, knocking a moan out of you as he picks up a rhythm, his tongue never once faltering. Your breaths grow pitchier the faster he moves, his arms giving you nowhere to squirm, no reprieve while he fucks and devours you to his hearts content.

All you can do is hold on.

“I-I’m gonna come,” you whine, struggling to get the words out with the way each crack of his hips knocks the breath from you, edging you closer and closer to your climax.

“Me too,” he murmurs, though you feel it more than you hear it. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Do it. Wanna taste it when you come on my cock.”

“Fuck, fuck, Homelander, Homelander!” You cry, your nails biting into the fabric of his suit, yanking hard on his hair as your body locks up. The orgasm that hits is torrential, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you. Your thighs shake, and if not for Homelander’s arms braced on either side of you, holding you tight to his chest, you’d collapse. 

All the while he sucks and licks you through it, fucking greedily into your quivering pussy, gasping hot and wet against your clit as he comes, too, fucking it into you as deep as he can while lapping up whatever spills on his tongue.

You sink back against him, loose-limbed and shuddering. Every pass of his tongue earns a jerky little thrust from you, the wet slide of it creating a burst of little aftershocks of pleasure.

Eventually, overstimulation begins to edge out your enjoyment. “Okay,” you rasp, giving his hair a gentle tug at the same time you pat his thigh. “Okay, good, good boy, that was… Fuck.”

Homelander pulls off of your clit with a pop, humming a pleased little purr. You completely collapse against him as he lifts his arms from you–lifting them over your head like the bars on a rollercoaster–and takes his head with him as he does. You hear a shuffle of fabric, and then an odd kind of crunch not unlike the one you heard when he first popped it off.

“Mmmmm…” He sighs, wrapping his arms around you, nuzzling at your neck. As he tenderly kisses up your neck, it's good to feel his lips where you expect them to be relative to his body again. “God, I’ve been thinkin’ about that for awhile,” he says, nipping playfully at your ear.

“I can confidently say that I had never once considered that,” you say, your words half slurred. You barely feel like your own head is attached after how hard you came.

He laughs, the heat of his breath on your ear giving you goosebumps. “Think you’d do it again?” He asks, voice pitched low and wicked, but you can hear the slight edge to his voice. You’ve been with him long enough to know that he wants to know that you liked it. That you like him. 

You turn to look at him over your shoulder, and you can’t help but smile. You kiss him, licking the shared taste of you both from his lips. He squeezes a little moan out of you, hugging you like he’ll never let you go.

“Yeah,” you say softly, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. Part of you is surprised you don’t feel some kind of seam. “In a heartbeat.”

[magsmapsmtl]

“Ba~ka”

No × New × Friends | Feb 14, 2015 | Tshizimba • Strange Froots • Aile Reve

If you couldn’t tell or recognize the reference, I’ve recently added an anime to my fanart repertoire .__.” I don’t care what you think, the strongest bonds are forged over animated television. So this V-Day, I’ve decided to shed light on the importance of your best friends. Often times we find that they’re the ones who irritate or hurt us the most, but it’s because you know each other better than anybody, which means you know who they are, who they aren’t, where their potential lies and what their true intentions are, which means sticking to your guns and working all the hard shit out, so as to move forward into a future as promising as such friendships should be. Everything x Alright by MC/Beatmaker Tshizimba drops February 28th, but not before making an appearance at Strange Froots’ “Green Apple” music video launch February 20th at Les Bobards! If your curiosity has yet to be satisfied, read the latest “Nice To Meet You” interview on Aile Reve, conducted by yours truly 😉[if you value your heart and your feelings do not watch Hunter x Hunter just don’t do it]

[urtwice]

Wendy: MC for Chaeyoung! - @reve-rv

CY. oh ? someone’s a little curious about me now, isn’t she~ ?

“what kind of reputation do you think you have?”

CY. not to brag, but i have a bit of a reputation in the art community for being a talented and promising young artist~ hmm, other than that, my friends tell me i have this cool and chic image when i’m out in public <(￣︶￣)>

DH. she can be a bit of a brat sometimes, though. in an endearing way

CY. only with you guys !! that is not part of my reputation !! -`д´-

ask game

[thetypingpup]

I stay away from twitter for my own sanity and health but I can imagine 😅😅 twitter is wild at the calmest of times but I was hearing some very ugly things being trended like calling Bang PD a "greedy pig" and calling LSM a "senile grandpa". Like... I get disliking them but this is hardly a personal thing, it's cold hard business. And the classlessness of it all sounds gross without even actually going on twitter. I love the humbleness of artists like BTS and SVT who started from small, poor companies, I will root for underdogs any day but the older I've gotten and the more saturated kpop has become, the more I'm finding I'm clinging to SM because there's just something special they keep doing. It could be just me being old and my origins as a kpop fan being a 2nd gen SM stan first.

Alternate theory time and kpop history corner - Japan was the first market SM worked to break into beyond Korea in the early 2000s with BoA and TVXQ, and ironically the idol trainee system had already existed there for decades. A company called Johnny's that has managed male idols since the 60s invented it and I have a strong suspicion Lee Soo Man borrowed the concept and SM is credited with pioneering and establishing it in Korea. They then naturally looked to expand to Japan first with BoA because "look, we did the same thing as you guys but we can do it with female idols too and look how good they are!" I was a j-pop stan before becoming a kpop stan and I'm a little attached to tradition, I must say 😅 I'm attached to the longevity of SM artists because Johnny's artists used to "expire" at age 25 like models until the 90s generation that said "guess what, we're more than that" and started becoming MCs as well. Johnny's and SM were the first to start training idols to be presenters as well. Yuta wrecks me a lot because he looks EXACTLY like what a super hot Johnny's idol used to look like in the 2000s, with his love of rock, the visual kei-inspired hairstyles and the way he does his eyebrows (decidedly un-Korean!!) Johnny's has fallen out of favour in recent years and had loads of scandals as well, like any longstanding company that manages talent and invents things, but there's something to be said about legacy. We need both legacy and innovation.

well nowadays, they're definitely much more focused on legacy than innovation. they're much more focused on promoting and pushing the sm brand, and not so much the artists themselves. that's why there's been such an emphasis on these fuckass group projects, like the collab units or the big sm winter albums. yo sm palace was such a crazy time, bc when that tweet announcing it came out, it got ratioed to death. people of all sm fandoms were basically like "bitch we didn't ask for this. we asked for a comeback for our own artists". and then everything else either had to be crammed in at the end of the year, or get pushed to the next year and get delayed like onew said. and this hyperfocus on the sm brand is why poor red velvet is still stuck at the reve festival, why ay yo...was the way it was with those awful teasers, why key's and other comebacks got delayed, and it's just derailing everything.

and this is pure conjecture so take this with a grain of salt, but considering all the internal strife going on in sm, i wouldn't be surprised if this new focus on legacy and the sm brand is their way of putting up a strong front while they fall apart on the inside. like trying to prove to the public (and themselves) that sm is still an established company with all this legacy to draw from. that's may be part of why why they're roping everyone into this bullshit kwangya thing, even tho half their artists either couldn't explain it with a mic to their mouth, or have already gone on record saying they don't like it. now that they're retroactively trying to rope everyone into this smcu shit with kwangya and everything, it makes a group like aespa have less of their own identity. now their concept isn't ai and kwangya, it's sm's latest venture and using them as the main vessel. but, bc the brand is clearly more important at this stage, and the brand is known of innovation, it's led to misguided shit, like seriously debuting the ai character for aespa as opposed to giving aespa an actual comeback.

Edit: with the whole focus on the brand, it honestly bleeds into how I see nct u now. I was seeing clips of the wayv fanmeet, they were dancing to universe, and i literally forgot yangyang and xiaojun were in that unit. Even nct u feels less like a genuine nct project, and more like those obligatory group projects the company makes them do

so i agree we need both legacy and innovation, but rn sm is just hyperfocused on the past and the future is looking real uncertain. literally every day we're hearing something new in terms of internal strife, like they're genuinely on their house of the dragon shit and destroying themselves from within, and it does genuinely make me wonder if they're gonna make it through the year. and because of that, it does make me worry for the artists bc it is some of the best music in kpop and it'd be a real shame for them to go out like this

[uniquetyphoonmiracle]

Por cierto..algo me señala que mi MARILYN que ahora es una BASURA no lo será con mi NAVI_DAD [IVAN al reves y PAPA al reves] y tendrá un HIJO y se acabará el PILAR DE ZARAGOZA..y ahora me encuentro a paul mcArtney cuya malograda mujer LINDA [que estuvo en barco de ROLLING STONES por río HUDSON cuando presentaron Lp AFTERMATH=CONSECUENCIAS] que hizo una FORTUNA con comida vegetal CONGELADA saliendola CANCER [=CONSECUENCIA?] y que heredó MC ARTNEY aunque luego la perdió con su 2da mujer una modelo que perdió una pierna por un atropello [=CONSECUENCIA?)..tras un local de ensayos

[ivanreycristo]

Para mi q michael HUTCHENCE de INXS [una SUPERESTRELLA DE ROCK..pues lo tenía TODO y el cual me dio su cerveza Mexicana CORONA en sala DIVINO AQUALUNG]..se ponga una camiseta representando al HOMBRE como un ESCLAVO Y MANIATADO SEXUAL..VA A MISA..

X cierto..HUTCHENCE se fotografió con IGGY POP y DUFF MC KAGAN [de GUNS N ROSES al q fotografie en pub UNDERWORLD junto a Pub the WORLD'S END en LONDRES donde actuaba STEVEN ADLER o batería original de GUNS N ROSES con el q me fotografie al FINAL]..al tocar juntos en el TEXAS STADIUM [el cual final al no cerraron el TECHO x lo q tenia COMO UN AGUJERO x el q les AZOTO el HURACAN GILBERT q HUTCHENCE grabó desde fuera con una CAMARA DE VIDEO]..dentro de la gira de INXS "CALLING ALL NATIONS"..y HUTCHENCE bebía una cerveza CORONA aunque la muestra AL REVES

[superjpug]

RC DRIFT：ReveD MC-1用 リヤAアーム・コンバージョンセットをリリース

[bittwitchy]

CS: Andrew Lee Potts and Danielle Rose Russell

[reveluving]

take me anywhere but home

summary: trystan always wants to take care of you, even if it's 3.12 a.m. in the morning.

pairing: m!trystan thorne x f!mc (written as ‘you’, no name usage)

warnings: mature/smut (minors DNI!), major spoilers from book 2!

a/n: in honour of the end of book 2 because the authors spared my heart (tq <3) and honestly? this is one of my favourite pieces I've ever written, and not just because it's Trystan. it's just a little reminder that we all need a break every once in a while, yknow? gave my all in this, especially for Smutember, so don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» fancy reading another choices fic? check out my m.list!

» smut includes; gentle (+ occasionally mean) dom!trystan, ‘beautiful’ as a pet name, nipple play, fingering, mild spitting, fingering, missionary, unprotected sex (p in v sex), praise kink, loads of kisses (a lot)—Trys is extra kinky but y’all already knew that. (prompts used at the end of fic!)

'But Trystan was stubborn as he was gorgeous, which is the same sentiment he has for you, to no one’s surprise.' ;

He groaned awake the moment he felt the side next to him unoccupied. It didn't take long for him to realize he had been hugging your pillow instead of you—you must've slid it into his reach when you got out of bed. Though he could’ve assumed you went for a quick run to the bathroom, he couldn’t help but glance at the door to the living room opened ajar, noticing the light slightly coming in. 

And like a moth to a flame, the amber light was practically calling him to look for you.

He checked the clock on the nightstand, his brows shooting up in surprise to see the time; 3.12 a.m. You were normally back in his arms around 2.30 a.m. 

Sighing, he stretched, joints popping and cracking as he did. It didn't take long for him to sit up, pushing the blanket off with his feet and trudging his way to the bathroom to splash his face.

In the midst of his awakening, he couldn't help but wonder what was different today. You couldn't be doing work at this hour, you (jokingly) promised not to touch a single file for the first few days of your well-needed break, and even if you broke your promise of straying away from work at least for a little while, it just didn’t feel right.

Big issue or not, something was obviously wrong. 

He exited the bathroom, wiping his hands with a hand towel, only to freeze up as he heard rustling in the corner of the room, just next to the floor lamp. He looked over at the dog bed, breaking into a smile as Alice let out a whine. Her eyes darted to the door before focusing on the man before her, as if silently telling him that she, too, noticed. Seeing her endearing head tilt, wondering what either of them should do, drew a soft sound of amusement out of him.

Still, Trystan couldn’t help but let out a shaky sigh soon after. He had his suspicions, he just didn’t want to panic. Somewhere in the back of his mind, just the tiniest part of his brain, he feared the absolute worst. He even wondered why he didn’t scramble out of bed as soon as he noticed your lack of presence.

One may call him clingy from afar but he had a damn good reason for his concerns. 

The very thought of you ending up like Juliana. 

However, his more rational side was quick to dispel his doubts and nightmares. If anything did happen to you, which he hoped to God nothing did, one; he would’ve jolted awake at the sound of you fending off, for you were a force to be reckoned with, after all, and two; Alice could’ve easily smelt the first sign of danger and done her best to alert him.

“We won’t take long.” He reassured her, scratching the spot just behind her ears. It immediately soothed her worries as one of her back legs began kicking in delight. 

He stood up, exiting the bedroom before closing the door, figuring this might just be between you and him for the time being. Thankfully, he was grateful for remaining level-headed for it took little to no effort to find you.

There you were, one of your arms spread wide on the couch with nothing but your panties and Trsytan’s dress shirt buttoned only at the collar. You were swirling your drink idly, barely acknowledging the soft clinks of the ice as they slowly melted in the glass. Though seeing you just two articles of clothing away from being naked, he was more focused on how preoccupied you were with your thoughts. Your face, though subtle, held a myriad of emotions.

But if he had to describe in just a few words, you just seemed emotionally exhausted, hidden behind a veil of indifference.

It didn’t take long for you to look up, feeling someone’s eyes on you from your shared bedroom’s direction. You knew it wasn’t Alice, you would’ve heard her nails clicking against the floor and rushed over to lay by your side. You blinked a couple of times, refocusing on the present as you were greeted with Trsytan’s presence.

"Hey," You broke into a tired but warm smile, “You okay?”

Even in distress, you were still looking out for others. You weren't as subtle as you were hoping to be, or maybe he has lived with you long enough to pick up your habits. The itty-bitty details that even your own uncle wouldn't be able to notice, and no doubt you wanted to keep it that way. 

But Trystan was stubborn as he was gorgeous, which is the same sentiment he has for you, to no one’s surprise.

“I should be the one interrogating you, detective,” He cocked his head, “It’s way past your bedtime.”

You were tired, that much was certain, but you weren’t keen on the idea of going to bed at the moment. Not with the thoughts going through your head, maybe even reality settling in. The close calls, the sleepless nights, the ‘bathroom breaks’ you had to take during a brutal investigation, only to bite your finger to stop yourself from crying as soon as you leave the office. 

You hid them well, but you should’ve known better than to think it could work on Trystan, too.

Not that you were able to fool the rest of the crew either. You learnt that after the third attempt, about two years into your job, coming back to your desk from an episode to find an array of small but meaningful gifts on your desk, including essential oils, a couple of your favourite snacks and a tacky ‘hang in there’ card with a cat on it. 

Though it obviously didn’t magically wash your worries away, you did remember ending the day on a much lighter note than you expected. 

"Sorry, I couldn't sleep. You'd think after being given a week off, I'd be able to sleep like a baby." You let out a soft, hollow laugh before taking a sip of your drink, “‘Drooling away’, as you’d tell me oh so affectionately.”

You were forced to crane your neck as he approached you. You would’ve made a witty remark about him standing before you in just his briefs if not for the slight frown on his face, 

"I do miss seeing you drool first thing in the morning,” He dodged the playful swat of your hand, “C'mon, back to bed, you." 

"I can't sleep though." 

"We don't have to. I feel like you and I would be more at ease if we stayed together. I know what the mind can do to someone if they’re left alone with their own thoughts for too long." He clarified with a wry smile. When you lacked any response or even a sign to move, he knelt in front of you, grabbing your free hand to hold in between his, "What can I do to help you?"

You pursed your lips, knowing you couldn't talk him out of this one. Not with his insistence.

Instead, you sighed, patting the empty spot beside you.

“Sit with me?” He didn’t give you the time to finish your question, occupying the spot as soon as you pat the seat. You chuckled, more genuine than the last as Trystan snuck his arms around you.

You took another sip, but before you could allow the sharp liquid to flow down your throat, you felt Trystan’s fingers caressing the outline of your jaw. Holding your chin in between his fingers, he turned your head so he could stare directly into your eyes. As he leaned in for a kiss, his tongue slipped into your mouth, sliding against your own and absolutely hooked on the taste. Your taste.

Sweet, slightly smoky, with a smooth finish, especially the lascivious display he had you in—an ardent lover his absolute most to clear his beloved’s head, even for just a split second.

He swiftly took the glass out of your hand, placing it on the coffee table before drawing you into a deeper kiss as he effortlessly lifted you onto his lap. Your body could only droop in his arms in the same way your eyes did.

Warmth slowly spread through his chest, the chilliness he felt prior to waking up gradually disappeared as his body temperature rose. 

You were no better, face growing hot as you reciprocated almost bashfully. You weren't shy, not by a long shot, but it did catch you off guard.

You were the first to pull away, feeling something similar to a whiplash. That didn’t mean you wanted it all to stop, and as if Trsytan knew you best, he continued, pressing his lips to your jaw down to your neck as he decorated you with kisses. You could only give into his ministrations, lolling your head back a little. 

Looping one arm around his neck, you shivered as his breath tickled the crook of your neck. Trystan could've easily been lulled by the gentle brushing of his hair. 

"We can always go somewhere tomorrow." He murmured, prompting you to look down at the top of his head.

"I think I'd prefer to stay home. Just a day or two. With you. And Alice, of course," You smiled, patting his other arm with your free hand, "Why? Did you have somewhere in mind?" 

"No, no, you know me and my impulsivity. I just thought you'd prefer a little rendezvous, just the three of us. Take your mind off things," Trystan trailed off, hoping to lighten up the mood, “I heard the zoo here is pretty nice.”

You snorted, shooting him a teasing glare even if he couldn't see it, “And risk you pulling me into a pool like you did in Drakovia? You’re not fooling me, Thorne. I can hear it in your voice.” 

“Well, I tried.” He shrugged, sharing a soft laugh with you, though his died down way before yours did as he pulled away from you just a little. You wondered if it was just you, looking over and furrowing your brows when you saw him suddenly staring into space, deep in his thoughts.

“Trystan?” 

He heard you loud and clear, and yet, couldn’t help but mull over the mention of his old home. Particularly, a memory he could never forget.

"I... I'm really sorry. In the library, back in Drakovia. I didn't mean to snap." No matter how hard he tried, hoping his mind could finally acknowledge that you had forgiven him, and despite everything that happened, from murders to betrayals in less than two months, the flash of disappointment in your eyes still haunts him to this day.

"Hey, come on. If my own family started pointing fingers at me after finding a dead body in my room, I'd get pretty testy, too." 

"Don't do that, please," You would’ve thought he was scolding you if not for the desperation in his tone, "It was not okay. You've been there for me through and through, and that was the thanks I gave you?" 

It was clearly eating him up inside. 

"Trys, I admit. It… surprised me a little. But you know I would've told you if it bothered me," Work or not, you never liked beating around the bush. You pursed your lips, trying to figure out a way to bring out his old, infuriatingly passionate self, "Plus, you apologized even before I could figure out how to… punish you for it."

You were beyond relieved to see him crack a smile, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

"Oh? And how were you planning on punishing me, then?" 

"Giving you the silent treatment." You replied without missing a beat, your smirk widening as his face contorted into disbelief and horror, though you knew he was partially playing into it.

"That's just cruel," He frowned. You wordlessly shrugged, biting down the cheeky smile that threatened to slip off as you turned your head to the side with your arms crossed, "And childish." 

You continued to 'ignore’ him, looking around the unit as though he wasn't present. 

"You know it's not going to work on me." 

As if on cue, a loud honk resonated from the road below, grabbing your interest as you looked over at the window to see what the fuss was about. You could play the game all day and he clearly couldn’t.

“Still not working.” He added, almost as if trying to convince himself.

Nothing.

You knew you had broken his resolve when he let out a disgruntled huff.

"That's it." 

He surged forward, wrapping his arms around you before pulling you in for a bear hug. He kissed and gnawed on your neck, the ticklish sensation only caused him to tighten his grip as you futilely tried to escape his grasp. 

“Trystan!” You yelped and squirmed, unable to control the giggle that bubbled in your throat as he pulled the button-up you wore down, exposing more of your skin for him to attack, “C’mon, you’re not playing fair!”

“No? I thought the rule was simply not to speak up. So,” He cast you a shit-eating grin, “I win.”

You groaned dramatically, letting your head fall back to his shoulder as you succumbed to his cuddling tendency. You weren't fooling anyone with your supposed exasperation, though, and you couldn't resist either. So, you took everything he had to offer.

Nothing could deter you from the warmth he exuded, both inside and out. Not even as it began to drizzle in the night, raindrops pitter-pattering against the window. 

Alice, too, probably understood that the two of you were fine, and was now sleeping soundly. 

To him, this was peace; waking up not even at the ass-crack of dawn and rambling about the prizes you’ve won as a kid or making plans to drop off Alice at his sister’s while the two of you try out the dining in the dark experience restaurant that just opened the other day.

“Hey,” You said, looking over your shoulder. He hummed in response, wanting nothing more than to feel you. Talk to you. Listen to you. Anything to have you with him, despite the weighing guilt of momentarily making this about him instead of you, “I’m sorry for what happened.”

He finally opened his eyes, half-lidded and almost as tired as you were. No longer because of the lack of sleep but at the mere thought of his old home, the sheer whiplash of it all. Everything that happened in Drakovia felt like a fever dream; the good, the bad, and the utmost ugly. 

“I’m sorry, too.” It may have been your line of work but he couldn't imagine being subjected to the chaos you two had endured, had he decided to fly home to solve the case and then come back to the States with anyone but you. Plus, the childhood reminiscing, cultural tours and sexual escapades he was able to share with you were what made the whole trip more than just bearable.

He didn't need anyone to tell him that his family was in fact not normal, and he most certainly wouldn't have vocalized his distaste in their ways if not for the agency.

That was not to say he was a coward, and he still loved his family. Every day, he thanked the universe for the outcome. Had he held onto a sliver of hope for some sense of belonging with the line instead of fighting for what he truly believed, who knows how it could’ve ended?

But it all hardly mattered now. His life wasn’t about Drakovia anymore, not to that extent It was no longer about the short-lived commodity and ‘hoping for the best’ as he did before and after his exile. Whether it was anything as mundane as being stuck in traffic with the crew or as ridiculous yet domestic as falling in the bathtub with you while giving Alice a much-needed bath. His life was nothing short of an adventure with the people that he, as cliché as it sounded, has seen as his own family.

Your eyes fluttered open as he planted a kiss on the nape of your neck, a delicate touch. One after another, his lips ascended to the sweet spot where your neck and shoulder just met.

Your breath hitched as his cold hands took hold of yours, swiping his thumbs over your knuckles. His hands then slowly travelled up your arms, imagining the goosebumps rising under the sleeves. With his shirt buttoned in a similar fashion to an off-shoulder top, he pulled the collar down your arms, just until your cleavage became more visible. 

You could feel him smile into your back at the sight of your hardened nipples peeking through the material.

"Trystan..?" He hadn't spoken a word since his hands began to wander all over your body, and it remained that way for a couple more seconds as he trailed his lips across your newly exposed skin.

"Hmm?" He hummed, coming up at your eye level as he hooked his chin on your shoulder. Following his gaze, you watched your reflections in the window. It was unclear from the raindrops trickling down the glass, but enough to make out just how naked the two of you really were.

"I just…" He piped up, but not before moving to your other shoulder to peck and nose at, "I just want you to let it all go. Lose yourself to me." 

You were like a fish out of water; it shouldn't have surprised you as it did, but something about his tone, the yearning, the sheer need to lift off the weight that you've been carrying for a while. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry now that you’d grown soft, letting your vulnerability seep through. You weren’t stupid enough to show your sensitive side out and about, but with Trystan, it felt wonderful to have someone ready as he was to take the reins. 

"Can you do that for me?" 

Then again, maybe you do know what to do. 

You nodded deliberately.

"Can you say it for me? Please?" 

“Yes,” You muttered under your breath, “Yes. Please, Trystan. Whatever you want.”

“No,” He raised your hand, kissing the back of it before looking into your eyes, “I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

He patiently waited for your reply, lips quirking in amusement as his eyes flitted to the way you ground your hips instinctively. 

“Whatever I want…” You dragged his hands upwards, and instantaneously understanding your desperation for his touch, he squeezed your breasts before haphazardly doing it again upon sliding them under your shirt. His cold palms only caused you to jolt as he rolled your pebbled buds in between his fingers.

Grunting as he cupped your breasts, he pecked your forehead for your attention. You peered up at him, your eyes lost in the moment of lust before widening as Trystan leaned in. Your state of surprise allowed him entrance through your lips, licking the inside of your mouth as his only form of sustenance.

You could feel the patch forming in between your legs, though Trystan's sharp eyes were quick to notice how your thighs were rubbing together. 

He broke the kiss, your breaths ghosting over each other's lips, "Feels nice, doesn't it? Letting someone else take control?" 

One of his hands left feathery touches as he reached down to your panties; black, cheeky underwear with a lace trim that he's known and loved. He slipped past the waistband, though not touching the spot you needed him most just yet. Instead, he took a handful of the material via your other leg opening before pulling it upwards, cupping your sopping pussy.

Had you not reacted in such a lewd way, suddenly digging your nails into his thigh and arching your back, you would've noticed the lazy smirk forming on his face. 

He then lifted the hem of your shirt, catching a glimpse of the tightened fabric rubbing in between your folds. 

"I'd love to know what my darling wants." He reminded with a purr, shamelessly gazing upon the erotic display. 

"I–!" You cut yourself off with a whine when he pulled the front from side to side, "Trystan, please! Please…" You placed your hand over his, the one playing with the bands of your underwear. He immediately let you take control, releasing his hold in favour of feeling your slick by brushing his fingers along your lower lips.

"You're dripping." He sighed in absolute bliss, imagining the slickness already coating his fingers before pulling his hand out of your panties without a warning.

Your protests died on your tongue when he let out a deep growl. 

He turned you around, chest to chest before pressing his lips to yours with urgency. In the midst of your passionate embrace, Trystan began to sit up on his knees, manoeuvring you by the waist so you laid on your back. His knees were on either side of you, his right arm holding himself up on the seat just over your head. 

He took a moment to appreciate you, his chest heaving as the lights of the bustling city surrounded you from behind like a golden halo crown. 

He reached up to your face, gently caressing your cheek before leaning in for a smooch. Soon, he trailed soft kisses down your body.

You squirmed, hands resting on his shoulders as he descended. His lips lingered in the valley of your breasts, locking his eyes with yours as his tongue flicked and swirled around your nipples. He did the same to the other before proceeding to your tummy, but not before playfully pulling the bud with his lips.

Your hips continued to buck, seeking relief as his firm chest hovered just over the one place you yearned for the most.

“Easy,” Judging by his tone, he was enjoying this a whole lot, hiding the smug as he held your legs down. Figuring that he has left you enough kisses for the time being, he finally reached the flimsy material between him and your, well, his pretty pussy. His words, not yours, “How shall I go about this, hm?” 

He dragged his fingers up and down your clothed sex, biting his bottom lip as you ground yourself against his teasing, “Is it just my hands that you want? Slowly stretch you open with three fingers? Or does my beautiful detective wish for my tongue as well?” 

He licked a long stripe up the damp fabric, daring you to break eye contact. Your hand shot to his hair as you jumped.

“Or,” He held onto your thighs with a smack, “Both? Will you let me taste you a bit, too?"

“Yes! Both! B-Both, please, Trys!” You begged with a gasp, resisting the urge to just claw at his pesky hands. He offered you some mercy, but not before removing your panties painstakingly slowly. Carelessly tossing the little cloth behind him, he whistled at your glistening pussy, waiting for his attention.

“Both it is.” He wasted no time, dropping his head and licked into you as his tongue could reach. The sight of Trystan’s sturdy physique holding onto your legs like you were a lifeline as he buried his face in between your legs seared into your mind. Just as you bucked again, he pulled away but was just as quick to slip his middle finger into you. 

You clenched around him just as the obscene squelch reached his ears, his finger bottoming out at his knuckles. He pulled his head back, only to surge forward once again to suck on your clit. He shook his head, soaking his lips and chin with your juices.

Satisfied with the way his fingers shined and glistened, he sucked on the juices before spitting it into your pussy. As if he wasn't a menace enough, he stuffed the same fingers back into you, with some of the spit mix leaking out.

This time, the pistoning of his fingers quickened, his lips parting as you did out of pure bliss. You could feel yourself trickling down, smearing your tight hole before the couch itself. Not that you cared, and neither did he. 

Your legs trembled, and before just as you felt the rush of heat across your body, you forced him to stop by the wrist. 

Trystan's brows shot up in surprise, and understandably so. Any signs of his tiredness seemed to have disappeared with a snap of a finger as he crawled over closer to check up on you. However, you didn't spare him a second and captured his lips with yours for a desperate kiss. 

“N-No, no. I need you,” You muttered, his forehead resting against yours as he tried syncing his heartbeat with yours from the instantaneous high. His fingers remained stuffed inside you, now moving languidly. You choked out a sob, eyes rolling to the back of your head, “Fuck, please Trystan! Fuck me.” 

Seeing you fall apart just by his hands and voice, begging him to take control was enough to result in the raging hard-on he was sporting. Each time he rutted against the seat felt almost painful just as it was more addicting than the last. 

Like a man possessed, he did as he was told, removing his boxers with his free hand while kissing away the tears of pleasure that threatened to spill. 

Slowly sliding his digits out of you, he unabashedly appraised how soaked three of his fingers were, especially glistening in the light. As much as he wanted to just suck it all off in one go, he, instead, licked your juices off his index finger. 

"How could I say no?" He cooed, finally ridding the briefs as his cock sprung out. Beads of precum dribbled down the sides, visibly aching to be inside you. Trystan threw his head back as he stroked his cock, electricity coursing through his body as he sought even an ounce of relief from your juices alone. 

You whimpered, clenching around nothing and absolutely yearning for him. Naturally spurred by your neediness, he towered over you as he trailed butterfly kisses up your frame, his unfairly large stature easily eclipsing yours.

Staring into your eyes with his half-lidded ones, he rested his forehead against yours, whispering in a tone that nearly moved you into tears for a totally different reason.

“There's no greater length I wouldn't go to to make you happy.”

Your throat tightened at his words, levelling his vulnerability just as you were to show you there was no shame in you being human. 

You sniffled, nodding thoughtfully as you hooked your arms around his neck. He nuzzled the side of your face, whispering sweet reassurances before lining himself up against your tight slit. 

He slowly pushed forward with a heady groan, gritting his teeth as he slowly breached your already clenching walls. He hung his head for a moment, feeling lighthearted from your intoxicating warmth despite not even halfway in. 

“Fuck," He drawled, the very girth of him throbbed as he eased himself in inch by inch and ignoring his need to go to town with you. It took a lot in him, especially the way you huffed and moaned so deliciously in his ear. He knew you loved it, but you didn't need that right now. 

“Trys–tan…!” You pleaded, pushing your hips back into him as he pulled out until the very tip, only to gasp sharply as he drove into you once more. He battered your cunt immensely, fueled by the way your nails dug into his back as if he may float away if you let go. He was so sweet, going slow yet deep if the way his muscles flexed was anything to go by.

A wanton moan slipped past your lips. You felt full, you were full, finding yourself in a drunken haze as he railed into you, coaxing you, or better yet, demanding you not to hold.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” His breaths grew ragged, fading into a disbelief chuckle, “That’s it, beautiful. Squeeze my cock, just like that.” 

“M—Mn–gah–!” The second you felt him reach that one sensitive spot inside you, the pitch of your voice grew higher, "Right there..!" 

His pupils were dilated, determined even at the very sound of your ass slapping against his thighs. You felt dishevelled, but Trystan thought were a sight for sore eyes, ready to be admired and worshipped.

"Gonna cum already?" You were too fucked out to think of a remark about the hint of condescension in his voice, though he made it up to you when he pounded into you a little faster, making your toes curl. It was all too addicting, despite the burn in your thighs from rolling your hips in hopes of chasing your high faster than you already were.

"Do it. Cum on me, make a mess. Bite me, scratch me, do whatever you want. I got you." He left open-mouth kisses up your jaw as his blown out pupils gazed upon yours.

With a final trust, you spasmed around his cock with an almost silent moan, holding onto him with a violent shiver. The way you clenched around him so tightly, almost constructing had one of his knuckles turning a tone lighter, clenching the seat hard as he spurted inside as you came as well.

His chest heaved, holding onto the little strength he had left to suffocating you if he were to ever fall in your arms. He didn't though, as breathless as he was, he still catered to you, leaving lazy kisses wherever he was able to reach. 

It took the two of you a minute, probably even more, but he found the will to move, slowly easing himself out and cooing at you as you whined. Feeling your cum and his dripping out slowly when he hoisted you into his arms, now leaning into him this time.

The two of you remained still, minus the exchange of kisses and worn out smiles with one another. There was no need to rush, even when the occasional tremors of your thighs or Trystan's heavy breathing have stopped after some time.

"Trys?" You whispered, throat a little raspy from your whines and screams. He held his hand up with a ‘hang on’, standing up with a slight shakiness in his knees, not bothering with the briefs he had tossed to the floor as he casually walked to the kitchen. You remained on your back, hearing the fridge door open before it closed. He then whirled around to the bedroom door, initially planning to get a towel and a blanket, only to stop dead in his tracks.

He didn’t know how to feel about going commando while Alice could potentially wake up, especially after the noises you made.

He felt stupid but he'd prefer it as such rather than traumatize your sweet girl.

Instead, he decided to check the guest bathroom.

He returned with two towels and a cold water bottle in hand, twisting the cap open before offering it to your lips. You gulped a good amount, just until Trystan was confident to pull it away and have a sip on his own. 

He even made drinking look good, your eyes darting between his bobbing Adam’s apple and the sheen of perspiration glazing his body. Half bottle gone, he placed it next to the now watered-down beverage, covered and trickling with condensation. He then grabbed the blanket conveniently draped over the headrest, for movie nights where you would likely fall asleep in front of the TV. 

He took a good couple of minutes cleaning you up, wiping off the beads of sweat then the oozes of cum between you thighs with the second towel. He did the same for himself but not before passing you the bottle once more, silently telling you to drink a little more. 

He fell back on the couch with a contented sigh, opening up his arms for you to join him. 

“Come here,” You did as he told, snuggling  in his chest and letting out a squeak as he smooched the crown of your head a couple of times, “You were saying?” 

"Let's do something later." You turned your head upwards, watching his eyes gleam at your suggestion. 

"Anything you'd like." You didn’t think this through, but you did know that you wanted to do something. Just then, you remembered the food market being held in Williamsburg for the next couple of months.

“There’s this Japanese food place that I’ve been meaning to try at Smorgasburg…” You began, but you didn’t have to explain any further for him to be on board.

“Consider it done,” He then squinted his eyes, focusing on the arms of the clock hanging above the TV, “It doesn’t start until 11, right? Might as well get some shut-eye in the meantime.”

He was right, the vendors wouldn't be open until another five hours or so, and as if on cue, you were hit with a wave of tiredness. Your eyes began to feel droopy, prompting you to make yourself comfortable in his arms. 

“Is that a yes?” He asked with a chuckle. You nodded with an ‘mhm’, “Thank you.”

“For the nap?” You quirked a brow, his expression settling into a warmer one as you smiled at each other. He closed the distance between your faces, pressing a kiss on the apple of your cheek.

“For everything.” He could go on and on about how much his life changed when the two of you met and vice versa, but he’d rather not give you a blackmail-worthy material if he were to ever talk nonsense in his sleep, although he had no doubts that you’d prefer otherwise. He was starting to doze off just as you did, pulling the covers higher before flicking the lamp light switch off and letting you snuggle against him. Your only source of light being the twinkles and glimmers of the city itself. 

That brought a bright smile to your face, touched to see just how far you were. You really have fallen hard, but what was new? 

It’ll be another day once the sun shines, but for now, he could rest easy, and so could you. And even if you did wake up past what was initially planned, or if the day remained too rainy for you to head out, that was fine, too.

With Trystan around, there wasn't anything for you to worry about.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» tagging @choicesficwriterscreations & @choicesprompts for smutember! ;; & the gorgeous red rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

» prompts used ;; 3. let me taste you ; 8. sweet & slow ; 24. worship

[birbycakes]

*STUMBLES IN TEN MINUTES BEFORE MIDNIGHT* REVETOBER HERE HE IS

[magsmapsmtl]

See… I would go to Piri Piri with you… but the way my bank account is set up…

The Children at Piri-Piri | Jun. 24, 2014 | Aile Reve • Microskillz • Boih • Green Hypnotic • PACESIX

Montreal a.k.a. Real City a.k.a. the possible birthplace of the Indigo Age. We’re entering a new era and we’re ready to lead the new generation of “heartists” and heroes:

Green Hypnotic, also known as the Prince, leads his army in the Alaiz Invazion of Montreal City. One of the many ways he’s done this is with the infectious Alaiz posse cut “Kolanget (Remix)” by The Celestics (Kaytranada and Louie P), featuring Mus Vic, Boey Cutt and himself, the remix having been produced by Da-P. Saine Scène has blessed social media sites everywhere with a visual! [Watch on YouTube]

Speaking of videos, PACESIX is at it again! You never know what she’s gonna do next! She’s recently collaborated with Montreal MC Jai Nitai Lotus on a music video for his track “Honest”, as well as Voyage Funktastique (with Walla P and Dr. MaD) having documented their last funkified night!

While we’re on the subject of collabs, did you know I recently officially became a collaborator at Aile Reve? Tings a gwan! I’m part of a great team of young queens, with my girl Ana Hatshepsut at the head of it!

Did I say “head”? Which reminds me… the Hip Hop Heads of Concordia University are having a cypher at the Hip-Hop Cafe this Saturday! Rumour has it a certain HHK Legend will make a beatboxing appearance…

HHHConU has also partnered up with BOWHEM, a weekly dance party at Blizzarts every Saturday night! BOWHEM will be the after party to this spectacular cypher, and Boih will be your spectacular host!

It’s hard not to be inspired by all the great things Montrealers have to offer… so I did a thing. Each of these individuals inspire virtue and greatness, which I decided to express in my EP/blog series entitled “For The Children”. Last Friday, I concluded the sequel, “Have You Seen Me: Finding Temperance” (a.k.a. “HYSM”) on Tumblr, and the soundtrack which you can listen to and download on SoundCloud!

[bangtann-bangdamn]

Nocturne

<Yoongi x Reader>

Part 46 - The whole world melted

It was supposed to be easy: confess your love for Park Jimin and spend the final moments of the year locked in his arms. Only one problem – he has a new girlfriend and now you need to save face. Good thing Yoongi is willing to play pretend. But how long until you catch feelings for the quiet music man?

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: None

You didn’t want to seem rude. That’s why you had agreed to take Mrs Min to the theatre. Not because you had ticked every single thing on your to-do list before the sun had even risen and had been sitting in your room staring at the clock ever since. Not because the thought of seeing Yoongi made your chest flutter.

If Mrs Min noticed anything unusual about your attitude, she didn’t care enough to comment. Instead, Mrs Min filled the car with the chatter of a baking programme she thought you might like and recipes she was dying to try. You hummed in all the right places, but you simply couldn’t focus on the conversation.

Nothing had changed, you knew that. Yoongi was still avoiding you and you were still leaving. And yet, the urge to tell him wouldn’t leave you. Your heart desperately wanted to see his reaction, hoping beyond hope that he would tell you not to go.

But you knew that would never happen. Everything was fake, of course.

Fake, fake, fake, fake, fake.

You pulled into the closest parking spot you could find to the theatre.

“Oh thank you, Yn. I was so worried that I was going to miss the performance.” Mrs Min opened the door. “Are you not coming, dear?”

You stared straight ahead. “I don’t think I should,” you admitted quietly.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Yn. It would mean the world to Yoongi to have you there.” She reached over and placed a hand on your shoulder. “He would never admit it, but you mean a whole lot more to him than he lets on.” She paused, waiting to see if you would say anything but when it became apparent that you weren’t going to comment, she sighed. “It’s okay, Yn. Thank you for the lift.”

The door closed quietly and you watched as Mrs Min strode towards the crowd slowly filtering into the theatre. You saw a few faces you knew, most notably Namjoon as he tried to pass Jin on the steps without being noticed. It didn’t work and Jin quickly threw his arms around Namjoon as if they were long lost best friends. But the one face you wanted to see wasn’t in the crowd. Not that that was unexpected. Knowing Yoongi, he would have turned up a few hours before for a last-minute practice.

You hoped that the year abroad would clear your mind. That, when you returned, you could face Yoongi without the unescapable sense of doom filling your heart. That you could be his friend. But a year seemed like a long time to wait, and you couldn’t deny that you missed him. You missed the way he could read you without you saying a thing, the way he took your hand when you watched a film, or put a blanket around you if you started nodding off. You missed your midnight texts about nothing and everything. But mostly, you just missed him.

You didn’t make a conscious decision to go in. You just found yourself turning your car off and making your way over. You weren’t going to tell him you were there. That was the easiest way to leave. You were just going to watch his performance and then sneak away. You had less than two hours to kill before the taxi turned up to take you to the airport. Surely that was enough time.

You took the first available seat at the back of the theatre. What you hadn’t counted on was how small the theatre would be. The stage felt impossibly close, despite the crowded room. You shrunk down in your seat as the MC of the night took the stage and hushed the crowd.

You had to sit through several performances, each better than the last. Despite their skill, you found yourself checking the time every 5 minutes. The longer you sat, the more it felt like a bad idea.

By the time Yoongi took the stage, you had 10 minutes until you absolutely had to leave. You sat back as Yoongi walked onto the stage. You couldn’t deny he looked handsome with his hair pushed away from his forehead and fitted suit. He looked mature, every inch the classical musician he wanted to be.

You smiled as he bowed before taking his seat at the piano bench. He looked around the theatre, stopping as his gaze locked with yours. You saw his eyes widen with surprise and you tried to swallow your racing heart. You raised your hand in a wave.

He looked away, head shaking a little before he stretched out his fingers and placed them on his opening chords.

His fingers danced across the keys with swift elegance, starting out slowly, almost mournfully. Then the lighter notes started to intercept the lower ones, dancing together in a sweet melody that raced to compete. The low notes slowly disappeared, leaving the light notes to slow until they stopped. Silence filled the theatre and then - the low notes started again, impossibly sad with each passing moment.

You couldn’t explain how, but the song spoke to you in a way that words never could. It reached within your chest and plucked at your heart. It said everything you had felt towards Yoongi these last few months without saying a single word. And you couldn’t help but think that Yoongi felt the same way.

The last note sang out to the theatre, leaving only silence. The room erupted into applause and you stood with the crowd as you clapped. You wiped away the tears you hadn’t realised you shed as you stared down at the man that you were in love with. He stood from the stool and bowed to the crowd, the faint traces of a smile playing on his lips. When he stood, his gaze locked onto yours.

The whole world melted away and suddenly, you were the only two people left. You wanted to run to him, to tell him that you felt it. The magic in his music.

You wanted to tell him everything. That you were leaving, but only because you couldn’t take the thought that he didn’t love you back.

Yoongi was led off stage, and the magic disappeared. You moved towards the door. You had to catch him.

Asking the umpire at the door for directions, you found yourself standing outside the green room for the performers. You hesitated at the doorway, looking in at the commotion as the other performers congratulated Yoongi. Yoongi had his back to the door, but you could feel his second-hand embarrassment. He never did like being the centre of attention.

You were about to call out to him when a pretty blonde clung to his arm, looking up adoringly at him. Yoongi didn’t try to pull himself away. In fact, he seemed to like the attention she leant up and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

You moved away from the doorway as you felt your heart break in two. God, you were so stupid to think… of course, the song wasn’t about you. After all, it was all fake.

You left without saying a word.

<Part 45 (x) Part 47>

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[kris-fucking-deltarune]

“oh ranboo face reve-al” “oh ranboo youtube upload” iDC !!! HIS MC OC IS DEAD I NEED TBIS BITCH REVIVED!!!!