#miss triple x-mass

[dynamitedragon]

Honestly this has been on my mind for so long

Sorry if I didn’t include your favorite! Tell me who I missed in the tags. And I wanna hear why you picked who you picked~

[sweetteainthesummerx]

✰ sweet nothing✰

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

nhl masterlist !

pairing: quinn hughes x writer! reader

warnings: angst and comfort, fluff

song: sweet nothing by taylor swift

summary: 5 times Quinn knew you were the one, and the one time he let you know...

word count: 2.2 k

notes: quinn my sweet boy!! also sweet nothing by taylor swift because her love songs are so superior

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

outside, they're push and shoving, you're in the kitchen humming

quinn pushes open the door to his apartment, exhausted. His face hurts from smiling at fans, and the triple header really, really took it out of him.

he loves his captaincy, really. he loves his boys, the leading, the responsibility. it's hard, though, to live up to all of the jostle and hassle the spotlight brings.

needless to say, the push and shove of stress has taken its toll on him, and all he needs is a hot shower and preferably 8 or more hours of sleep.

through the walkway, he hears a familiar voice, the telltale clatter of pans, a taylor swift song and the aroma of garlic and tomatoes.

you must've used his spare key he gave you.

he smiles despite himself, something warm tugging deep in his stomach.

he calls your name and immediately flushes with how breathy and needy he sounds. the last thing he wants is to scare you away.

"q!" you pop up from behind the counter, wearing nothing but one of his old shirts that drapes long over your slender shoulders and a pair of ratty sweatpants. your hair is pulled back from your make-up void face.

you've never looked more beautiful.

you make your way over while he admires you, and lock your arms around his waist, smiling up at him.

"missed you," you kiss his cheek, and he flushes again. god, why was he like this still?

the two of you have been dating for over than a month now, but he's still so easily flustered by you. maybe it's because you work with words for a living, but you're the sweetest thing he's ever seen (and tasted).

you think it's cute, and you tell him more often than not, reducing him to a puddle of a blushing mess.

he bundles you properly in his arms, kissing you properly.

you're so soft and warm under his fingers, your mouth hot and pliable.

you indulge him for a moment, savouring the time with each other. his hands wander down to your hips, gripping hard like he's afraid you'll be blown away by the wind.

a timer dings, and you pull back. he chases your lips, letting out a whine when you giggle and push gently at his broad chest.

"quinny, stop! i made you lasagna, and I don't want it to burn."

"mm, we'll order take out," he mutters into your neck, breathing in your familiar perfume.

you let out a sound of protest, finally breaking free of his hold. he follows you like a lost puppy as you set the table, plating him an extra large piece.

as he eats, you watches your kind eyes and easy smile with adoration.

the realization jars him, but settles firm in his bones: he wants to come home to you everyday.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

i wrote a poem, you say, "what a mind", this happens all the time

it's the release of your latest book, and quinn watches as you engage with your fans. the biggest indigo in vancouver invited you to come do a meet and greet along with a signing.

you had spent the morning with quinn, his hands stroking through your hair to calm you down. although your other books had success, this one was your proudest piece of work yet.

quinn had been the first person to read it. he was impressed; he knew you were smart and you had a way with words that astounded him, but the whole book was like poetry.

the words flowed easy from you, as easy as breathing.

now, watching you all flushed and a little embarrassed by the attention from the mass of people who showed up, he all but glows with pride.

a young girl, maybe in her early teens, comes up to you with a wide smile and bright, glassy eyes. he can't hear well, because he's tucked near the back of the room to avoid the crowd, but she says something and your face falls.

he's ready to sprint through the crowd to get to you, but you hug the younger girl. she's crying, he realizes. you squeeze her tight, sign her book and send her off with what looks like encouraging words and another hug.

afterwards, while he drives with one hand and the other on your thigh, he asks what happened.

"she told me she's never felt more seen by anyone before. that my book told her it's okay to not know where to be in the world." your eyes feel wet, and he smiles.

god, you're brilliant.

he raises your hand to his mouth and kisses your pulse.

"what a mind," he murmurs, and you laugh softly.

"you tell me that all the time."

"because I mean it, babe."

now he understands when those cheesy movies say "I want you body, mind and soul".

you are undeniably beautiful, gorgeous even. kindness seeps from your very being, and you're mind is bright and soft.

he wants all of you, forever.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

the voices that implore, "you should be doing more"

ellen sees some of the articles and criticisms of her eldest on the internet. quinn has always been the quietest, the most calm and so stoic. but her sweet boy, who worked too hard and did too much was always being told to do more.

so when she called him and he picked up the facetime groggy and hair still damp, she was surprised.

"hey, mom." he answered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"hi, quinn. sorry, sweetie. i didn't expect you to be asleep. i thought i would check up on you."

"all good." he yawns, and he makes small talk.

she wonders if he's seen all of the speculations about his captaincy on the news and headlines.

he tells her he has, because she asks him straight up. he appreciates the straightforwardness, and he has since he was young.

he tells her that you were there.

"she ran me a bath, with those weird salt things that women love so much-"

"hey! they're very nice." she interrupts, laughing at his antics.

"and she made soup. we ate already and I took a nap. she's out getting groceries, but i'll tell her you said hi, mom."

ellen nods, something tangible and comforting in the air around her. her son is in good hands.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

to you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it

you find him in the empty change room. he's sitting on a bench, wet hair messy, head hung. you expected this; your boyfriend was nothing if not responsible and too hard on himself.

after another loss, his grief and frustration was normal.

you kneel before him, taking his face, hot from the shower in your cool hands. his pretty eyes are rimmed red, and he leans into your touch.

"hey, pretty boy. you did good out there, captain."

he shakes his head, fingers trembling as he pulls you closer so he can push his face into your hair, inhaling your smell.

"i failed them. i'm a shit captain, and i can't seem to break this cycle we're in-"

"you are not a shit captain." you say those words firmly, and it almost surprises quinn. normally you were soft-spoken and slow, but you tell him this with urgency.

"i should be taking care of everyone, and everything-"

"but who takes care of you?"

your words break a dam in him, and he buries his head in your shoulder. the position is uncomfortable, but you don't shift or mention his shaking shoulders.

"you are a good leader. a good leader is one who stands with his team, even during the tough times. the boys adore you, and you will break this rut. but it takes time, and work, my love. no one works harder than you."

he sniffs, a hovering breath touches your neck.

"you are so strong, my sweet boy." you cradle his neck, pressing kisses to the side of his face. this sets off another wave of emotions, and he easily tugs you up into his lap.

his wet hair drips onto your (his) jersey, but you don't mind.

"and if you need to be strong for them, you can be soft with me. i'm here for a reason. another set of shoulders to bear your burdens."

"i love you, y'know that?" his voice is scratchy, vulnerable and thick with emotion. although the two of you have exchanged those three words countless of times before this, it feels like more this time.

"i know, quinnie. i love you too."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

jack hauls his older brother onto the curb, setting him there, praying that he doesn't fall flat into the road. luke runs out with quinn's jacket, draping it over his shoulders.

it isn't often that quinn gets drunk, especially this drunk. but the boys night was a chance for all of them to let loose during the off season.

the small dive bar near the lake house was the perfect place to get away.

"dude, he is hammered." luke huffs, tugging at the sleeves of his own hoodie, the chill of the night starting to surround the air.

quinn says something under his breath as he sways, and jack sets him upright again.

"bro, what did you say?"

quinn repeats your name, louder this time, with the request to see you immediately.

the way he says your name, with so much love and awe makes jack almost wish he was in a relationship.

"sure, man. i'll call her to pick you up."

you arrive a mere 10 minutes later, hair wet, wearing one of quinn's canucks sweatshirts and a pair of sleep shorts.

"hey guys," you greet the other hughes boys. Luke gives you a side hug, and you pat jack's arm in thanks as you move to help her boyfriend up.

"babe!" Quinn only realizes then that you're here. jack has to laugh, seeing his brother so far gone because of the 7 tequila shots they took.

"jeez, guys. how much did you drink?" you ask, laughing, and Luke starts to regale you with the tale of jack's bad rendition of lady gaga.

"i missed you." quinn is now standing behind you, arms firmly wrapped around your waist, his cheek pressed against the top of your head. he doesn't say it loud, but contented and quiet.

jack watches as you smooth your hands over his forearms, rolling your eyes in amusement.

"yes, yes, I missed you too, you clingy baby."

"hey! m'not clingy." he protested, his whole body pressed up against every inch of yours.

jack snorts, giving you a sympathetic look, "good luck with that one."

you jokingly flip him off, as you try to maneuver your much larger boyfriend.

"c'mon, hughes." quinn frowns at this.

"I only answer to quinny, my love, sweetie and baby."

"that's your name?" jack asked, only to be met with a dirty look from his brother. luke snickers as you shrug quinn into the passenger seat.

"thanks for watching him." you say as you walk over to the driver's side.

"thanks for coming to get him. did we interrupt anything?"

"nah, except your mom was showing me your guys' baby pictures." you eyes shine with mirth as they groan.

"please tell me she didn't-"

"yep, the bathtub pictures too." you smile, and quinn yells something from with in the car.

"okay, I should probably get the big baby home. you guys don't stay out too late, okay?" you tell them, and they bid you goodbye.

he watches you guys drive off, quinn probably saying something stupid as you laugh.

"y'know, i really hope she's the one." Luke tells him as they head back into the bar.

jack has never, ever seen his brother so happy. he's never seen him smile so willingly for anyone, and clearly, you have him wrapped around your finger.

"yeah, me too, man."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

+ all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

you're wearing your blue light glasses, a tank top and a pair of his plaid boxers as you sit cross-legged in your shared bed, hair loose around your shoulders.

you're working on something new, and quinn studies your features as you concentrate.

without looking up from your laptop, you grin, "stop staring, stalker."

he laughs, "you love it."

you meet his eyes as he crawls next to you. he lets you wipe at his mouth, where he's sure there's still remnants of toothpastes.

"i love you." you offer instead, and he pulls you onto his lap. his fingers inch up your thighs but stop there.

he just wants to feel you, before he has to leave for another roadie.

"i love you." he tells you matter-of-factly, "and i'm going to marry you one day."

"babe, we've only been together a little over 8 months," you protest, but he sees the glow of joy on your cheeks at his words.

"i know," he says confidently, "but i'm going to make you my wife, one day. all i want is you."

you melt at his words, laying your head on his shoulder, "all i want is you, and your sweet nothings."

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

And you were trapped in this curse (before you ever even knew)

Day 5 of The Long Halloween - event masterlist here

pairing: dick grayson x reader (gender neutral)

length: 8.3k

genre: horror, fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: mermaid dick grayson, witch reader, talk of burning at the stake like one time vaguely, reader almost drowns once

a/n: the trapdoor works bc it's magic and that's the only thing we need to know ok ?? anywaaay here's the one we've been waiting for here's the one we're excited for

"Just one more thing," the mariner says as he tosses the keys to you, watching as you catch them and glance towards the boat that you've just bought. "Don't go in the water."

"Yes," you respond bluntly, watching as your new houseboat bobs and rocks in the waves and tugs at the ropes securing it to the wooden dock. It's a mass of tangled cords weaving through the darkness, and you thumb the keys in your hand as you look back to the mariner. "I know… I've heard."

"Good," he nods firmly, spinning on his heel and beginning to walk away, toward the endless labyrinth of shipping containers and dockworkers and boats pulling in and out of the harbour. "Make sure you keep it in mind. Don't go in the water… for anything."

You watch as he walks away, slipping into the mess of the docks and vanishing from sight, leaving you alone to climb up onto the plank and into your boat - into your new home. It's dark inside, of course, old and musty and crumbling. But it's tucked away in an inconspicuous corner of the docks, away from the city and the police and the witch hunters who walk the winding streets of Gotham. It's safe, or as safe as you can be, practicing the illegal arts. 

A larger wave crashes against the side of the boat and you sway on your feet as the wooden vessel rocks and groans with the movement, the water beating against the sides constantly - as if it's alive, as if it's trying to pull you further under. You know the stories told about the Gotham Harbour - you were warned when you fled to this place.

"Don't go in the water." people say. "There's something out there."

You'd asked around, of course, poked and prodded and peeled back layers of the tall tales that were spun in the darkness of the docks. You're not afraid of it - not the way that the others are. You're a creature of the night, yourself, of course, and things that move in the shadows don't scare you too much these days. It's humans who do the scaring, with their threats and their leering and their witchhunts.

They were small stories, at first - silly little anecdotes that the workers used to tell when their ships pulled into the docks. They would claim to have seen something moving in the water - glimpses of a shimmering, shining, fish-like tail seen out of the corner of their eyes and the faint sounds of a song sung through the fog, tempting and alluring, buzzed through their ears.

But they were harmless - just little stories the sailors would tell for fun to keep one another awake at night while they worked. They were all so sure that it was just tricks of the night and the mist… at first.

But then the casualties started. Sailors began to go missing from ships as they pulled into the harbour and some of them began to swear that they would watch their friends just walk right off the edge of the ship, stumbling and lurching like they were being pulled by something invisible.

"There's something out there," they'd swear. "And it's after us."

But nothing could be proved, of course, and none of the workers hauling illegal magical goods in and out of Gotham by the shadows of night wanted to be caught, so no one went to the authorities. And people just kept… disappearing.

And over time, naturally, the stories began to grow. The size of the tale began to double, then triple, until the tales told of a huge, serpent-like, scaled appendage that had the strength to crack the hull of a ship with one swipe. For some of the smaller vessels, the huge tail would wrap around the body of the ship, snapping it in half and dragging it to the bottom.

It glowed, they said, bioluminescent blues and greens and violets lighting up the water, a shimmering, shining beacon of death moving silently through the blackened depths.

But, you think pointedly as your boat rocks and sways and you swing the door open to let the sea breeze fill the stale interior. It's all speculation - some twisted story to justify the ships that suddenly began to go missing, some kind of hallucination that the survivors spun in the wake of trauma.

As you walk back outside to lean against the railing of the boat and peer into the murky depths of the harbour, you remember what the mariner had said to you when you bought the boat, watching as you'd counted out bills in front of him, both of you insisting on a cash-only transaction.

"The ships still come in and out," he'd said lowly, his arms crossed as he stared out towards the rolling waves. "But folks are getting antsy - scared. Some of the buyers want their shit moved other ways. You know, coming through the city on trucks instead."

"And does that work?" you'd asked absently, stacking money neatly as you half listened.

"Not really," he'd admitted. "It's all still taken to the docks, and… well, you know."

As the boat rocks and you shake your head in an attempt to rid yourself of the conversation, you can't help but let the mariner's words spin around your mind just a bit more. You can't help but picture it in your head - dockworkers, moving through the thick fog that filters through the night, wandering off the wooden edge and into the water like those sailors, pulled and pulled and tugged under by something monstrous. 

Droplets of rain begin to fall from the darkened, thunderous sky and you shiver as you stare down into the water for a moment before crouching. Slowly, carefully, you stick your arm through the railing of your boat and let your fingers dip just below the surface, feeling the icy waters for a moment before pulling back and inspecting your hand.

"Don't go in the water," people had said. "There's something wrong with it. There's something cursed about it." You hum in thought as you try to rub warmth back into your fingers, the freezing sensation from the water sticking to you and travelling up your arm as the rain begins to fall steadily. 

You've heard the stories, you know what Gotham is - a festering breeding ground for illegal magic, with its waters serving as a dumping ground for the pollution that comes with it. Years of it have turned the harbour into a magical chemical wasteland, and you shudder as the coldness seeps further into your skin and begins to turn your fingertips blue. 

"Don't go in the water," people had said, lest you find yourself developing a glowing blue-green tinge and struggling to breathe in air above water - lest you freeze over and stumble back in and fall down into the depths.

Don't go in the water - it will never let you out.

Below the surface of the water, two milky blue eyes stare forward - stare at you. Afternoon rolls into night and days roll into weeks and he watches, lets his tail swish through the water, sending waves crashing against the side of your boat. The vial that you'd been dipping into the water slips from your grasp and into the depths below. But you just sigh, mostly unbothered, before filling a second vial with the murky, darkened substance. 

You're not like the others, he finds - you're not scared of him the way that the others are. You're curious, instead, and it's a curiosity that he finds himself mirroring throughout the days, watching you as you study the water, filling vials upon vials with it and bringing it into your little floating home.

But there is, he realizes over time, still a fear in you. As he haunts the waters underneath your boat, he sees the way you shrink away from the dockworkers - the way you back away from the lights and noises of the city and keep to the relative safety of your boat. He sees your fear and recognizes it - sees it the way that he sees his own.

He knows, somewhere deep and intrinsic, that you're hiding from the same world that he is. And that curiosity in him becomes bravery as he watches you dip that second vial into the water and he sees your fingers, once tinged blue-green and frozen from the polluted waters. They look healthy now, warm and nimble as they pop the cap onto the vial. He stares, as much as he can with his milky, clouded eyes, down towards his own hands and wonders, ever so hopefully, if you can help him, too.

So he watches. And you, in turn, watch back. You begin seeing it, every now and then and out of the corner of your eye - glimpses of a large, powerful, scaled tail. Flashes of that glowing blue-green hue. Whispers of a song over the breeze. And that curiosity that he's become so fond of as he circles your boat in the darkness of night, trying his best to watch you - he finds that curiosity mirrored as you lean over the railing, eyeing him through the rippling waves. 

It's late one night, the moon hanging low in the darkened sky as the waves roll through the harbour, when he swims idly through the waters underneath your boat. He wonders, ever so curiously, if all people like you are so clumsy as you drop a vial you'd been working with, the dropper in your hand falling into the waters below and sinking towards the bottom. You sigh, a long-suffering sort of thing as you grip onto the railing and try to balance with the boat's swaying and rocking. 

You're standing slowly, your hand still wrapped tightly around the wooden rail when something crashes out of the water towards you. You lurch back a bit, your feet unsteady on the damp wood, but a strong arm wraps around your waist and keeps you upright while you stare at the being in front of you.

The creature haunting the Gotham Harbour, the monster of the deep, the serpent stalking the waters and pulling sailors to their deaths. Here he towers before you, his arm retracting away from you so that he can prop himself up on the railing of your boat and let his lengthy, scaled tail swish through the water beneath him.

You slip towards him as the force of him - as the weight of his enormous finned tail tips the boat ever so slightly and brings you closer to him. He looks down at you, leaning forward with his human torso as his eyes, milky and blurred, stare down and you grip onto the railing between the two of you in an effort to keep yourself upright.

When your knuckles brush against the jagged scales, though, an intricate pattern of blues and greens and violets scraping against your skin, he hisses and bares sharped, razor-like canines at you.

But you just blink, tipping your head back to look up at him - at his eyes and the white swirls clouding them over. Because you know what it looks like when magic rots you from the inside, when it eats away at you and turns you into something nightmarish. And you've been studying this water - you know of the pollution and the poisoning and the horrors that it causes. 

So you reach, out of instinct perhaps, towards him. You reach as your eyes sweep over his hair, bluish-black and dripping, over the water droplets that run down his abs and towards the gills covering his ribs, twitching and fluttering and struggling. You reach, and you're not all too surprised when he hisses again and lurches away from you.

But he reaches a cold, wet hand towards you instead of fleeing further and all but throws something at your chest, making you stumble back with a huffed breath and grab it before it falls. And it's the vial, you realize numbly as you stare down at it in your hands - the one that you'd dropped. His claws, you notice slowly, have hit you, too - ripping through your shirt just a bit and prompting little trails of blood to ooze out, darkened by the blanket of night that covers the two of you. 

"You -," you begin, but the creature is already pushing himself away from the railing, diving gracefully back into the water with a deadly silence and leaving you with your head spinning and your lungs burning as you stare at the water where he once appeared. 

Admittedly, the next time you drop something over the edge of your boat, it's more intentional than it usually is, and you crouch rather close to the water with your arms wrapped around your knees while you wait to see if he'll show up again. Sure enough, it's mere moments before he propels himself out of the water and drops the lost object onto the wooden deck, staring toward you with those milky, vacant eyes. 

You stand slowly while he stares, his arms propping him up on the railing while you move towards him. He stays still, this time, tense and unwavering as you step closer and look at his faded, unfocused eyes.

"I can help you," you say, pointing first at your own eyes and then at his. "Let me?" He just stares, though, white, glazed eyes looking on as the gills that line over his ribs twitch and shiver, morphed and altered by the harbour waters, forgetting the feel of the clean, cool oceans. He can't leave, you realize. Gotham Harbour has ensnared him, turned him into a monster that could only ever exist and survive here. 

He disappears as you study him, slipping back into the murky, blackened water and leaving you sighing, your shoulders slumping in momentary defeat. 

But then you hear it, a faint banging sound coming from inside your home - and you lurch, moving to rip open the door.

You see it then, the trapdoor that you have partially covered by a rug and the latch trembling with the force of something shoving at it from underneath. You move forward in a rush, after staring and blinking and letting your mind reel for a moment, to unlock the latch and let the trapdoor swing up and open, wrinkling the rug and covering it in that cursed harbour water as the creature pulls himself up through the opening and leans on his arms to look at you.

You stare, mouth slightly open as you take in the creature in front of you, letting his tail swish and move in the waves beneath him and dripping water onto your floor. 

"…Help me," he says slowly, and his voice is smooth, soft and sing-songy in a way that makes you walk towards him and fold yourself down onto your knees to look at him face-to-face.

"You can speak?" you ask in lieu of a response. He frowns, his dark, water-slicked brows bunching together as he stares in your direction. 

"There is a part of me that's human, after all," he says quietly. You huff out a breath and reach for him ever so slowly, letting your fingers hover for just a moment before making contact with his cheek. He makes a surprised little noise, jerking his head away from you for a second before shifting on his palms and leaning back into your touch.

"Thank you," you murmur quietly as you trace a finger over his brow bone before letting your forefinger hook under his chin so that you can tilt his head slowly and look at his eyes. 

"Can you… fix it?" he asks slowly, a hesitance in his smooth, silky voice.

"I can," you respond simply, smiling ever so lightly even though you know he probably can't really see it. "I said I'd help you… and I will."

It's a slow process, of course, to begin to heal and change him after that, bringing the colour and life back to his eyes. It's weeks of him pulling himself up through the trapdoor in the bottom of your boat to let you poke and prod at him, giving him various vials to drink from and coaxing him to tip his head back so that you can drop strange liquids into his eyes.

It's difficult for him, you know, odd and uncomfortable and frightening. So you don't mind, really, when he hisses and snaps his teeth and grabs your arm to dig his blue-black claws in until blood runs down your skin. He doesn't mean to, you know. So you let him.

And it works, much to his delight - the magic you use on him begins to soothe the symptoms of the polluted water. He's still this thing, of course, he'll never go back to being a regular mermaid, but he's not in pain - not the way he was before. His eyes don't burn and his head doesn't feel light and dizzy anymore, riddled with haziness and pain. 

Eventually, the white milkiness fades and his irises shine blue once more - it's not the blue they used to be, you're sure. They're vibrant and glowing and unnatural, but they're blue and they're his and he can see the world through them, finally. He can see you - really see you for the first time. 

"Hi," you breathe quietly, a smile flitting gently across your lips as you watch him blink rapidly, his eyes glancing quickly around the space to take in his surroundings properly for the first time in so, so long. 

And then, of course, his eyes find their way back to you, kneeling on the cold, wooden floor so that you're at eye level with him and looking at him with those big, hopeful eyes of yours. He reaches for you, then - he can't help it, not when you're kind and gentle and staring at him like he's something precious. You let him, though your brows shoot up in surprise when he leans forward.

"You're beautiful," he says lowly, close enough to you that his breath touches your face. You make a small, surprised sort of sound and glance away from him, but he reaches for you with a firm hand, cupping your cheek and smashing his lips against yours in a firm kiss. You make a high-pitched, surprised noise somewhere in the back of your throat and when he pulls away you shift on your knees, clearing your throat and looking at him in bemusement. 

"Thank you," he says simply, and you nod and hum in mock understanding.

"I'd like to, uh, I'd like to try fixing your gills a bit, too - if you'd let me." The grin that he gives you in response to your request makes you bite your lip in immediate regret.

"I think I'd let you do just about anything to me now," he says flippantly. You sniff indignantly and rub a hand over your face harshly, but cold, smooth fingers wrapping around your wrist stop you. 

"Oh, that's just…" but you trail off as he pulls up your sleeve slowly, revealing dark, crimson welts where he'd dug his claws into you so many times. You stay still as he stares, holding your breath as he runs a delicate finger over the cuts and looks unblinkingly down towards them.

"It's… it's ok," you say slowly. "It's alright."

"Seems like such a monstrous thing to do, doesn't it?" Dick says, ignoring your words. "To hurt the thing that's trying to help you." When he looks up at you then, you take notice of his clear, unblemished eyes for the first time. They're sharp and flashing, the deep blues and violets swirling in them as they draw you further, further, further in. 

He looks… dangerous, you realize sluggishly. He looks a bit like a wild animal, and as the waves beneath your boat crash against the wooden hull and water sloshes up from the opening onto his torso and your floor, you think, rather distantly, about the stories of the creature who haunts the harbour - who drags people to the depths. 

"Are you?" you ask quietly as your heart hammers against your ribs. "Are you a monster?" His grip on you tightens and you find yourself entranced by the shimmering colour of his eyes - a part of your mind begins to panic, begins to try to break away, but you find that you just… can't. 

"Oh, I wasn't always," he murmurs lowly. "But I think I am now. I think I was turned into one, don't you?"

"No…" you respond slowly, placing your hand over his where it grips your wrist and watching as the touch seems to shock him out of whatever trance he'd been in. "I think that's up to you." He blinks at you for a moment then, reeling, it would seem, from the entire interaction before he looks back down and sees the way he's gripping your arm, the cuts blemishing your skin there, oozing thin trails of red over his hand. 

You sigh in relief, much to your own guilt, when he wrenches his hand away from you and steadies himself as water sloshes up against him. As he breathes deeply and runs a cold, blue-tinged hand through his hair roughly, you stand and turn to rummage in a chest for bandages and ointment and whatever else you need.

"I didn't -" he starts.

"I know," you cut him off, tucking yourself into a chair some distance away from him and rolling up your sleeve so that you can dab at the wounds gently. "It's alright."

"Then why won't you look at me?" he asks, and there's a harsh edge to his voice that makes you pause. It's a divergence from his normal smooth, silky voice that wafts over the breeze and has sailors stumbling towards him in a haze. It's wavering, now, jagged and honest and it makes you huff out a breath.

"Careful," you quip, but you still don't look up. "You sounded almost human there." You hear him sigh quietly and the waves rock the boat as he shifts his stance and pulls himself up and further out of the water. 

"What are you doing?" This time you do look at him, throwing down the bandages that you'd been unravelling as he pulls himself further into your boat, letting his tail propel himself out of the water until he's laying almost on his back on your floor, propping himself up on his elbows and tipping his head back to stare at your ceiling as he drips water onto your rug.

"You're overextending your welcome, Dick," you say eventually, but there's a distinct lack of bite in your voice and his lazy grin proves that he knows that it's not a real jab, not when you say his name so sweetly - the name that he's whispered against you like a secret all those nights ago.

"I'm looking at your home," Dick responds easily, and you follow his gaze up toward the dried herbs hanging from your rafters.

You sigh, then, rolling your neck to try to ease some of the tension as you gather your first aid kit and bring them back toward him. He watches out of the corner of his eye as you kneel beside him once more, your knees hitting the soft rug with a dull thud as you begin unravelling the bandages once more.

Dick rolls onto his side to face you, though, propping himself up on just one elbow and reaching to take the bandages from your hands and coax you into giving him your arm. 

"You're a bit hot and cold, aren't you?" you observe quietly, your voice a low murmur as he takes your injured arm so delicately in his hands and begins wrapping the bandages over the damaged skin.

"I don't mean to be," he answers honestly. You just shrug.

"I don't mind… I think we all are sometimes," you say honestly. He glances up at you, the blue of his eyes shimmering as he draws his brows together.

"You've only been kind to me."

"You haven't known me that long," you point out, but he just shoots you a scathing look.

"You might… just not give yourself enough credit," he offers as he finishes bandaging your arm, securing it and smoothing his hands over it to ensure that everything is as it should be. "I think you're a good person," he says earnestly.

"I think you're a good person, too," you reply easily, but he freezes at your words for a moment before he pulls his hands away from you and rolls onto his back, letting his shoulders thump against your rug as he lays his hands over his stomach.

"There's not much of me left that could be seen as a person," he says quietly, and as his tail swishes, it bumps against the side of the trapdoor opening. Glancing at it for just a moment, you wonder how big it really is - how far down into the icy, blackened depths it really goes.

"I don't know," you start, and your teasing tone has him narrowing his eyes at you as you raise yourself up to shuffle closer on your knees and lean over him, bracing your hands on either side of his head as you look down at him scrutinizingly. "Your eyes look pretty good to me. Almost human."

He makes a face at that, wrinkling his nose as he lifts his hands off of his stomach to let one wrap gently around your wrist and the other smooth over the back of your thigh where you're still leaning over him.

"I don't care for being human," he huffs. "Just not… this." You let your eyes flicker over his torso at his words before they settle on the gills lining the sides of his ribs. He watches, one hand still trailing up and down the back of your thigh as you shift your weight slightly. When you place one hand overtop of the gills ever so gently, your palm just barely brushing against them, you watch as they twitch and move. 

"I said I'd help you with that, didn't I?" you murmur, looking down at the way they move underneath your touch. 

"That was -" he starts, and he looks away with a bashfulness - with a guilt that doesn't look like it belongs. "That was before I hurt you."

"Oh, I don't mind," you respond easily, shifting your weight back onto your palms where they now rest on either side of his head again. "Just as long as you never look at me like that again." You lean down as you speak, comforting the guilty look in his eyes with a kiss on his cheek that has him sighing underneath you. 

"I think you should keep it unlocked," he says quietly, and you hum in confusion before glancing at the lock of the trapdoor and grinning just a bit.

"What, you planning on dropping by?" you quip, but one of his arms slides around your waist and he pulls you closer to him, your thighs widening as he tugs you down. 

"Probably," he answers easily, and you huff a bit.

"What if something else decides to come pay me a visit, hm?" You say it mostly as a joke, but Dick's look sours and you catch a glimpse of his sharp, deadly canines as his lip curls in unhappiness.

"I won't let that happen," he offers firmly, his grip on you tightening. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"Well," you say, a bit breathless. "I guess I have nothing to worry about, then."

"You're distracting me," you murmur, sighing long-sufferingly when you're met with nothing more than a watery giggle in response to your chastising. You're sitting on the edge of your boat, cross-legged to keep your feet from touching the water as your hands flit over his gills to check the progress of their healing. 

But his hands roam over you, too, smoothing over your ribs and twirling your hair through his cold fingers as he watches you work. Below you, somewhere in the impossible, twisted depths of the harbour, his massive tail thumps against the underside of the boat and tips you forward until your forehead knocks against his chest and he giggles again in that tantalizing, siren-like way of his.

"Really, Dick," you continue as you plant a hand on the smooth, cold skin of his chest to steady yourself and huff in mock annoyance. "You should be much better now. Is it… do they feel different?"

"Of course," he answers quickly, but when you purse your lips in annoyance, he grins flippantly and you feel his twisted gills twitch under your fingers. "They do," he assures gently, a bit more serious this time. "I… I feel like I can breathe again. I feel like…" 

He stops then, looking out towards the docks and the endless, tangled maze of shipping containers and docked boats as you watch him. You smooth your hand more firmly over his side as another wave rocks the boat and you wonder, with a bit less concern than perhaps you should have, if it's him that's churning the waters down below - or if there's something else down there in the blackened depths. 

"You're free now," you supply for him when he doesn't finish speaking, and he starts in surprise and snaps his gaze to you, looking at you imploringly with those widened, twisted blue eyes.

"Free?" he asks haltingly.

"Mhmm," you nod slowly. "It's… I don't know. It's this place, isn't it? It's that water." You reach up as you speak, smoothing his bluish-black hair out of his eyes and pressing your lips together as you consider how to explain it - how to define the twisted curse of this place that you've both found yourselves trapped in. 

"It's like, once you're here," he begins, pausing and looking out towards the vast harbour, the endless darkness of the water seemingly swallowing the sunlight that touches it. "Once you're here… you can never really leave."

"It's… yea. Something like that," you agree, chewing your lip as you roll his words over in your mind. And it's like he knows - it's like those impossibly blue eyes can look right through you when he stares, because he taps his finger against your hip and you blink up at him.

"What about you?" he asks softly. "What curse is keeping you here?"

You open your mouth to respond, to say something in comfort as the twisting trap of the harbour looms behind you, but a noise on the dock startles the two of you.  By the time you realize that it's a couple of dockworkers wandering too close to your secluded little safe haven, he's already slipped from your grasp, disappearing into the icy, cursed waters below and sinking to somewhere where you can't follow.

Huffing a bit, you stand and stretch and stare out towards the water for just a moment before heading inside. And as you look out, as you stare and hope and wait, you see the ripple of something breaking through the surface - you see the shimmering, finned tail pop out of the water just enough so that you know… he's still down there. He's right underneath you, haunting the waters that he now calls home. 

"I'm going to start keeping that locked again if you don't stop doing that," you say breathlessly as you put a hand over your heart. The trapdoor at the bottom of your boat had just been swung open rather abruptly, slamming against the wooden floor so that he can pull himself out of the water.

"Why are there so many people searching the docks for you?" is all he says in response, his eyes flashing as he stares intently towards you. You just sigh and move to sit next to him, crossing your legs on the plush carpet and leaning on your palm as you look at him.

"They're witch hunters," you say simply. "This is illegal, you know."

"But you help people," he presses, something swirling in his eyes as he leans closer to you in anger. "What will they do to you when they find you?"

"Haven't you seen the smoke?" you shrug, leaning back and blinking as the intensity rolling off of him in waves makes you dizzy. "They're witch pyres."

"What?"

"It's a death sentence," you explain patiently. "If they can prove that someone's using witchcraft, it's… there's a death penalty. They're just hanging around to see if they can catch me. They can't arrest me without proof."

He stares at you, then, for a moment long enough that you shift where you sit and sigh deeply. But then he turns to stare out of one of the glazed windows, eyeing the flickering shadows of the world outside as if every one of them is a threat.

"Why not stop, then?" he asks quietly, keeping his gaze on the window.

"Stop?" you splutter. "Why would I?"

"Because you'll die," he says firmly. You smile gently, a bit too at ease with the whole thing than he is.

"We all die for something," you say softly. "I may as well die for living." He looks back at you, then, something large and sad and haunting in his gaze as he stares down at you. A bit of water sloshes up onto your floor as his tail trashes through the water below and you cock your head to the side in question as you wait for him to speak.

"I thought that once, too," he says slowly - haltingly, like the words scrape at his throat on their way out. "I thought that, when the poachers caught me - when they shipped me to this place like cargo. And when I escaped… I thought these waters would kill me."

"But isn't it better," you respond softly, smoothing a hand over his heart as he looks down at you with furrowed brows, his hair dripping water down his face. "To die free, in the seas, instead of in a cage?"

"That's what I thought," he nods.

"And now?" you ask slowly. A frown tugs at his lips and he sighs as he looks down at you, his lips pressed together into a thin line. 

"Now I wonder… if this is what this place has turned me into… what will it do to you?" You straighten at his words, huffing out a breath in surprise as he stares imploringly at you. But then you clear your throat and let your gaze rake over his figure. Glancing at the gills that now sit healthy and fluttering, at the crystal clear gaze of his eyes and the steady beating of his heart.

"Don't say it like there's no going back," you say instead of really answering. "I can't turn you back into what you were before, but you're whole again now, aren't you? You're free, remember?" He just sighs at that, though, and lets his eyes close as he leans forward to press his forehead against yours. Droplets of water drip from his face onto yours, leaving tangled trails of shining, cold wetness over your cheeks.

"But what will you do, then?" he asks quietly. "If I'm not here to keep you safe?"

"I'll be alright," you whisper back, smoothing a hand over the back of his neck to rub soothing circles into his skin with your thumb as you let your eyes flutter closed.

Dick's hand finds your waist and he tightens his grip, his fingers pressing in as if you'll disappear if he doesn't hold on. He thinks of it - of the wide blue seas, of the breeze and the rolling waves and sun beating down. He thinks of the freedom beyond this tangled web of darkness and something painful tugs at his heart.

As he opens his eyes and tilts his head back to look down at you, small and alive and looking up at him with a trust that he's never known before, he wonders if perhaps this is the real curse of Gotham. It's not that you can't leave - it's that, suddenly, you find that you never really want to.

But, of course, the stories have continued to rage on outside of your little safe haven, and whispers spread through the tangled streets about the creature in the deep… and now those stories include you. People have begun speculating that there's a witch practicing in the harbour, and stories tell of someone helping the monster of the water, making him stronger and more powerful and more capable of harm than ever before. 

And you hear them, of course, the tales and the rumours and the fear that begins to spread. It seeps into your home, oozing through the wooden planks and wrapping around you at night as you sit alone, no longer finding company in the blackened waters below.

You sent him away, you remind yourself. You gave him freedom and now he's gone. It's a fact that you remember with a startling zip of panic one night, when the moon hangs low and your breath fogs in front of your face as you wind through the maze of the docks quickly and quietly.

It's not often that you leave your boat these days, but it has to happen sometimes - and judging from the glinting stares of the dockworkers, you're not the only one who knew that. You know that you're being followed - you know how this night will end. The law may have to wait for proof to see you dead, but the poachers slinking around the docks and hauling illegal cargo aren't bound by such rules, and the menacing cloud hanging over you proves that. 

You freeze suddenly, jerking yourself out of your thoughts as you stare out at the dock in front of you - at the raging water beyond and the poachers that you can see just beyond the shipping crates. You have nowhere left to run, you realize haltingly. There is no safety to be found for you on this cursed night.

You think idly, as you stare out towards the abandoned waters, about what he'd said to you before you'd sent him away. You'll die for this, he's promised. If you set me free and you stay behind, you'll die in this cursed place.

Of course I will, you'd thought. But you hadn't expected it to be so soon. A thunderous wave crashes up onto the wooden dock and you consider, for just a moment, how lucky you may be to die free, standing on the edge of this curse and leaning out towards the open seas. 

And then you hear it, the dull footsteps and the jeering of approaching poachers, violence dripping off of them and staining the space between you all. You see it, the glint of a knife being pulled from somewhere hidden, the rolling shoulders of a man succumbing to fear.

And then… and then…

The huge, finned tail of a creature born of cursed nightmares and vengeance, breaking the water's surface to arch high overhead and make everyone stumble to a halt. You think, rather alarmed, that you really, really hadn't realized just how much of him he'd kept unseen - you notice it for the first time as the sheer size of the scaled tail fills the sky above you, the shimmering, thick fins blocking out the moonlight and casting a great, swallowing shadow over the dock in front of you. 

And then it moves, swift and powerful enough to send a gust of wind in your direction, tearing through your hair as you watch the tail smash through the wooden dock between you and the poachers. They scream, panicked and stumbling as the dock splinters and cracks and crumbles underneath you all, and the tail simply raises again to slam down a second time, now aiming directly for the men.

You hear it, as you stumble and misstep, the wooden planks collapsing beneath you - you hear the sickening cracks of the poachers being slammed by the tail, crushing them as they scream.

But then the wood under your feet finally gives way, and you find yourself plummeting into the icy, darkened waters below.

And these waters, you recall in a hazy, far away sort of way, aren't fit for humans - even ones like you. Dark and cold and murky, it burns and freezes and blurs out your mind and thinking. Stay out of the water, you think as you sink further down, down, deep towards the bottom, the faint lights of the dock disappearing above.

Stay out of the water - or it will never let you out.

You notice it in a sort of trance, as if it's happening to someone else and you're watching through a window - you can almost feel it, the arms that wrap around you, cold and firm. You can almost feel the water move around you as he begins to pull you up, out of the impossible depths and back towards the surface, towards the light and the warmth of the open night sky.

The water is impossible to see through, dark and muddy and hazing your vision, but you can see, through the cloudy ripples, the bioluminescent glow of his tail - like pinpricks of light, blue and violet and green, swirling all around you. 

You let your eyes try to follow the lights, but they twist and move and spread so far away that they fade into the depths, and the sight has you choking out a gasp and spluttering as the toxic water begins to fill your lungs - it has you reeling as you wonder, yet again, just how monstrous his figure really is.

But then the trapdoor of your boat is being slammed open from underneath and he's pulling you out of the water to lay you onto the plush rug in your home, letting you cough and splutter and gasp for breath. You tremble and shake, the cold from the water seeping into you and freezing you from the inside out as your lungs struggle and burn from the air you're trying to gasp in.

Dick's learned, though, you think distractedly as you watch him pull himself up and out of the water after you. He understands the witchcraft that you do and the potions that you make. It doesn't take long for him to have you pressed against him, curled into his chest as he brings vials to your lips gently, urging you to drink until your lungs begin to expand properly and your eyes focus on him.

By the time your mind begins to clear again, your chest rising and falling in a steadier pattern as your breathing evens out once more, Dick's laying on the rug next to you, curling around you in a protective sort of embrace, and you sit up just enough to see the beginnings of his tail winding around you as well until you're in a makeshift sort of nest. As your eyes follow his tail through its twists and curls and settle on where it continues down into the murky water, you can't help but think back to the impossible power of it that you'd witnessed before. 

"Don't move," he murmurs sternly, tugging you back down to press you against his chest again. You're still shaking, trembling from the cold that still lingers under your skin, and the sight makes him frown as he swipes a thumb over your lips as they stay stained blue from the freezing temperatures of the water. His skin, as he shifts against you, you're sure doesn't help - always cold to the touch, always inhumanly freezing. 

"Just let me get something," you respond quietly, your voice raspy from the strain you'd put on your throat and lungs. A frown tugs on his lips, but he lets you stand on shaky legs and take just a few steps away from him to snatch the blanket off of the back of your armchair before you're stumbling back to him. That frown of his doesn't begin to ease until he's got you pressed against him again, the blanket tucked securely around you and his hands flitting around, smoothing down the fabric and tucking in the corners.

"I thought you were gone," you admit softly, your face pressed against his chest. His hands still a bit before he's smoothing a palm over the back of your hair and pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

"I wouldn't leave you like this," he responds gently, his voice soothing in that soft, slow way of his. "I couldn't leave you to do this alone."

"But what about you?" you push. "Don't you want to go home?" Dick sighs at that, wrapping the blanket tighter around you where it's begun to slip off of your shoulder. 

"There's something about this place," he muses, like there's a point that he's sidestepping - like there's something that he doesn't want to admit. "I guess I couldn't really find it in me to - there's something about… I don't know, this place. This city and this harbour and… and you. It's like I'm rooted here."

"I'm… sorry," you offer gently. He just places a soothing kiss to your cheek and squeezes you gently in his arms as if to say it's not your fault. This isn't your curse. This isn't your trap.

"I think…" he begins slowly, smoothing a hand up and down your spine. "That there may not be anything for me out there anymore. Not… not with this curse of mine" He glances down at himself as he speaks, at his twisted tail and the way the scales ripple and catch the light. You may have healed his pain, sure, but not even you could turn him into what he was before.  He's this monster now, warped and twisted and deadly… and that's just the way it is, he thinks. 

"I suppose," you respond slowly. "There's no breaking curses like ours. Maybe there really is no escaping this place."

"But is it so bad?" he offers gently, crooking his forefinger under your chin to make you look up at him, to sweep his thumb over your bottom lip once more and feel the warmth returning to you, flushing your skin. "Is it so horrible to share a curse like this?"

"No," you murmur as his lips find yours, soft and gentle and cold to the touch. "Maybe it's not."

"And besides," Dick adds, a humour seeping into his voice that has you narrowing your eyes in suspicion. "It seems you clearly need something lurking in the water to look out for you."

"Um… do you need to deal with that?" The woman you're speaking to is staring at the trapdoor in the bottom of your boat with a concerned sort of shock as the hinges rattle and the lock creaks.

"What? No, no, it's -" you say as you slam your foot onto it, stomping the wood aggressively. "It's just the waves." She's looking at you like she doesn't believe you, and the banging sound that's coming from the trapdoor isn't helping much, you're sure.

"Alright, I - um, that's right. I - I have your payment here," the woman continues politely, handing you an envelope. You flip it open to count the bills in it quickly, keeping one foot planted firmly on the rattling trapdoor. It may be illegal, this practice of yours, but condemning witchcraft has yet to make it unhelpful. Even now, months after your move to Gotham, you have a steady stream of customers slipping into your boat and asking for your help. 

  "Ok, come back soon!" You call as the woman makes a hasty exit after you've approved her money, glancing back to the trapdoor with a scared sort of look before she disappears. 

It's once she's gone, then, that you lift your foot and unlock the latch before stepping back just in time for Dick to throw the door up and open with a loud bang. 

"Why did you lock it?" he huffs as he pulls himself up, catching the towel that you toss to him.

"I always lock it when I have customers," you sigh good-naturedly, sitting next to him and watching as he hastily dries off himself, keeping the polluted harbour water away from your rug. "We really… we really can't be seen like this."

"I don't know what you mean," Dick sniffs indignantly, but the sly look that he shoots you as he tosses the towel aside says otherwise. You let him get away with it, of course, doing nothing but settling further and letting him sprawl himself across your lap. 

"I'm serious," you say, but you begin to card your fingers through his hair gently as you chastise him and you watch as he lets his eyes flutter closed, his tail swishing through the water below you and rocking the boat in soothing movements. "All of us have to be careful. There are rumours of a purge going on - people are even talking about bringing the vampire hunts back."

"Vampires?" Dick opens one eye to squint up at you. "In Gotham? That can't be true."

"You'd be surprised," you murmur, but you shush him nonetheless, letting him close his eyes again as you smooth over his furrowed brows with your thumb. 

"You're not… you're not really upset, are you?" he says slowly - quietly, like he's afraid of the answer.

"With you?" you respond easily. "No, never." You lean down to kiss him, then, delicate little things placed first on his lips and then across his face as he relaxes against you. You both know, by now, that you're not really upset. How can you be? When you have a home and a practice and a rather vicious guard dog who loves you so much.

How can you be upset? With this life that you've built for yourself and this curse that you've tamed.

[for-a-longlongtime]

Aquamarine

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect) x reader x Benny Miller

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI. 🏳️‍🌈 Characters are bi as fuck. 💖💜💙 Summary: Ezra has enjoyed being pegged by you from day one. When Benny comes over, a lazy afternoon takes an interesting turn. Things are said, orders are being followed, two of you might be to blame for Benny's ruined jeans, and that lovely turquoise strap-on gets used. Also, Benny learns how to suck a dick - and it's not just his mouth that becomes acquainted with Ezra's tongue. Let the good times slut roll. (PWP, that's it really.) Warnings/tags: Established relationship (f/m) plus third (hello, younger!BennyMiller from Triple Frontier!AU), dirty talk, brief masturbation (f and m), fingering (f and m receiving), rimming, anal sex, oral on a strap on, pegging, dildo is referred to as "your cock/dick" repeatedly. Some spit use (no kink). Word count: 5652 words A/N: This is part of the Peg That Middle Aged Man campaign organized by the amazing @wannabe-urs. Please go check out all the other fantastic fics here! I completely missed my 01/18 deadline because things/my brain got in the way, but I finally completed after all. Special thanks to many of y'all, but in particular @sin-djarin, @magpiepills and the @alltheglitterandtheroar for their support in getting this done. Infinite gratitude to the always amazing @morallyinept, in particular for her Ezra Dialogue post and Writing For Ezra guide! Dividers by @saradika. This fic is unbeta-ed (in an attempt to squash my perfectionism) and inspired by @prolix-yuy's Din pegging fic, thank you LJ!

He’s gorgeous like this. Spread out on the bed with your fingers inside of him, those groans of pleasure getting even louder when you slide your mouth back onto his cock. It’s not just about how he looks, although yes - part of the reason you’re soaking wet is definitely that sweaty curly hair with the blond streak. With his head tilted back into the pillows he looks even more attractive than usual, his eyes closed but bliss written all over his face, even after you’ve edged him for almost an hour already. 

What gets to you the most is how unabashedly he surrenders himself. Body and mind greedy for pleasure, as if he’s been without nourishment for too long, deprived during all the time he’s spent on Bakhroma Green. He has no qualms to ask for what he wants, or what you want from him. That first night he fucked you better and longer than you had been in a long time, and still convinced you to call in sick the next day so he could do it all over again, making you scream his name until your voice was hoarse. So when you saw him looking at the harness in your toy drawer later that day, you were more than happy to return the favor.

You figured out pretty much immediately that this wasn’t new to him, so you rode him hard - having learned a thing or two about him in the previous twenty four hours - until he was a sticky whimpering mass, begging for you to keep going until he was beyond overstimulated. Afterwards he made you come twice on his tongue and fingers, and told you that while the strap was new for him, “the pleasure of being taken by a cock is not foreign to me, gem. No love too intimidating.” It was then that the thought of him being taken like this by a guy, or him fucking another man, had sprouted in your mind - something you kept filed away until the right moment came to revisit that. 

Like now.

A knock on the door pulls you out of your thoughts, and Ezra frowns as you let his cock slip from your mouth. “Gem, I must implore you to ignore that interruption,” he sounds breathless as he grabs your wrist before you can slide your fingers out of him. “As much as I enjoy you keeping me on the edge…” he pauses when you give him a challenging look and curl your fingers up against his prostate, making his hips buck hard. “... having a visitor take up your precious time is not something I’m willing to indulge in.”

“But I got you something.” You smirk when his eyes light up and lean into the kiss he’s offering. “I know you’ll like it.”

“Well… You’ve piqued my interest with such a delightful promise,” he muses before he takes over your mouth with a deep kiss. “Nevertheless, I’m sure the courier can leave this offering at the door. I’m not ready for your hands to leave my body just yet. I…” He groans when you slowly start to move your fingers inside him again, and lazily runs a hand over his chest, teasing his nipples until they’re both hardened by the attention. “Grant me another one of those delightful fingers, gem.”

The hitch in his breathing makes a shiver run through you, and as another knock sounds on the door, you wrap your left hand around Ezra’s cock. Slowly stroking him without any hurry, matching the pace of your other hand. He watches you with pleasure, whimpering quietly when you gently slide his foreskin down to reveal the head, then lean down to lick the precum off his dick and your fingers.

“Come on in, the door is open,” you call out into the direction of the door once you’ve licked up all of him, almost like an afterthought. The momentary surprise on Ezra’s face is easy to spot, but it shifts almost immediately to amusement tinged with a hint of mischief. Most noticeable, he makes no effort to cover himself up or discretely move away from your hands - if anything, he makes a point of spreading out more on your sheets. Luxuriating like a cat under a warm beam of sunlight. Or perhaps a panther in the green is a more apt description; no trepidation, just a single minded focus. It’s exactly what you were counting on.

You press a kiss to Ezra’s stomach as you hear the front door open, and his cock twitches in excitement at the startled gasp of the visitor. “Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry, I thought—”

“You thought right, no worries”. You grin as you lick away the last drop of precum that has welled up, then take in your guest. Benny. Just as pretty as when you met him the other day. Tall, blond, a slim but well-defined body that makes it clear he likes to work out. Younger than Ezra, but not too young - probably late twenties or early thirties. He’s a sight to behold in many ways, but that pouty bottom lip and his captivating eyes stand out in particular. You know Ezra is a sucker for that - you remember him telling you that it were your eyes that had drawn him in. Like aurelac. Believe me, gem. I should know, considering how much I’ve harvested it. 

“Glad you came. Close that door, would you?”

“What a pretty thing you’ve sourced for us.” Ezra’s voice is quiet so only you can hear him, yet his dick is anything but subtle; he’s positively throbbing under your fingers, but not addressing Benny yet, waiting for him to approach the bed. You see the hesitation on Benny’s face as he takes in the two of you, but there’s no room for hesitation in the way he licks his lips and shrugs his jacket off.

“Hi… I’m sorry if I’m interrupting.”

“Not at all, gentle man.” Ezra props himself up on an elbow, gesturing for Benny to come closer. He’s enjoying this, the panther in him all relaxed yet fully alert, letting his prey come to him willingly. “What is your name?”

“Benny. I met… we got to know each other, and she told me to come over.” He’s clearly trying to not be too blatant about staring at Ezra, but it’s fairly impossible to not look right at that stiff cock, surrounded by the thick curls of his pubes. It takes a moment, but then Benny seems to realize that you’re not just jerking off Ezra; you’re also still fingering his ass with easy, lazy movements. He clears his throat as he seems flustered, clearly not knowing where to look. 

“Benjamin. Hello, Benjamin - I’m Ezra. You must have met this gem at the drinking establishment,” Ezra suggests as he strokes your cheek, holding Benny’s gaze. “Surely you were as enthralled by her as I was. Tell me, did you try to make her yours?”

Benny laughs nervously, running a hand through his dark blond hair as he shrugs, seeming flustered. “Yeah, I-... I’m sorry, man. Didn’t know she was yours.”

It takes one to know that Ezra’s smile isn’t quite as friendly as it could be, with just a little too many teeth bared before he speaks. “That is not true, Benjamin. This gem belongs only to herself. I have the distinct pleasure of enjoying her whenever she deems me to be worthy of her time.” He pats the bed next to him as an invitation. “Your presence here would suggest she has plans for you, too. So this is… exciting.”

You nod at that as you slide your fingers out of Ezra, who does not seem too pleased about this. “I want to watch you fuck Benny,” you say casually, grabbing some sanitizer and a cloth to clean your hand. “He’s never been with a guy, but I don’t think that has to be a problem. Or is it, Benny? Sit down.”

He follows the command without hesitation, radiating golden retriever energy as he seems eager to please, and just a little bit overwhelmed. You reward him by brushing your fingers over his jawline, tracing the soft stubble and the more pronounced goatee under his plush lip. He looks slightly dazed, but you have no concerns about that. Setting boundaries was no problem for him, you had already figured that out yesterday - because else you wouldn’t have invited him over. “Can I kiss you?”, you ask, and he nods silently. 

“Use your words, Benjamin.” Ezra speaks up before you say it, and you can tell how the tone in his voice has changed since he last spoke. It’s sharper, hungrier, with a little bit of fangs in it. “I expect you to engage in candid discourse with us. Otherwise this is not happening, my friend.”

Something flickers in Benny’s eyes - a hint of resistance, or maybe he just rightfully feels intimidated. Ezra never is subtle about taking control of a situation, getting the upper hand either through words or more tangible weapons. But Benny doesn’t back down, lets his fingers brush down your arm, grazing your breast by no accident. “Yes, you can kiss me. Both of you can”, he then adds, sounding like a dare as his eyes are still on Ezra. “I’m fine with most things, and if not I’ll let you know.” 

“How fortunate for us.” Ezra smiles as he leans back against the headboard and lazily runs his hand over his dick, giving you an expectant look. You don’t waste any time, revising your earlier plans to initially only make out with Benny. While he can’t take his eyes off Ezra, you climb into his lap, steading yourself with a hand on his shoulder as he settles in. He looks up almost in surprise, as if suddenly being shaken out of a day dream, and he wraps his arms loosely around your waist as he faces you straight on now..

“I like how you’re drooling over Ezra,” you tease him, to which he immediately blushes. “No, don’t worry, I’m the same way. It’s hard not to,” you hush him as you settle in, wriggling around for a moment until you’re comfortable with the angle, your bare pussy pressed against his denim covered cock. You brush your lips over his as you slowly rock against him, feeling his hand slide to your hip, the other one firmly grabbing your ass to pull you closer. “Ez has a nice dick, you know. Thick, generously sized… ever been up close and personal with an uncut cock?”

Benny seems already breathless when he kisses you, his tongue just as eager as his hips are, grinding up against you. “No. Not with any cock, really. Fuck. He’s… hot.” He groans when you grind down harder against him, your slickness leaving a wet stain on his pants. “You’re both really hot,” he then adds, kissing you harder as he seems to gain more confidence now. Slipping his hand between you, he gathers your wetness so he can tease your clit with his fingertip, and you whimper in delight by how effective he is. You can tell he wants to explore more, would probably gladly slip one or two fingers inside of your heat, but that’s not going to happen yet - you have plans.

“I like your mouth,” you breathe as you break the kiss, resting your forearms on his shoulders as you lean back slightly, perfectly aware of how this pushes your tits up in a spectacular fashion for him. “You any good with it elsewhere, too?”

His lips are on your breasts before you even finish the line, hot tongue licking one nipple before he moves to the other, then sucks it into his mouth in a way that makes your clit throb. “Anywhere and everywhere” he assures you when he lets go of it with a wet smack. “You want me to eat you out?”

“Not now. Maybe later,” you sigh in pleasure, rocking a little harder against his fingers, enjoying how he’s taking his time to figure out what gets you going. Over his shoulder you see Ezra, a predatory glint in his eye when he realizes he’s got your attention. You bite your lip hard when the hand around his cock speeds up, and Ezra lets the other one lazily slip between his legs, teasing himself with deft fingers where yours were minutes earlier. 

You have to hold your breath for a moment to not lose it right there, and Ezra takes full advantage of it. His dark eyes hold you captive as he slips a thick finger into his hole, and you groan when you hear him breathe your name. He wants to get fucked by you, hard, and he’s not shy about it either. You’re throbbing in response to it - between his blatant need and Benny’s fingers between your legs, you feel yourself getting way too close way too fast. Especially when Benny’s mouth returns to your breasts, his teeth and tongue alternately teasing your nipples until they feel just as sensitive as your clit. 

You pull yourself off Benny’s lap just before the waves threaten to overtake you, legs slightly wobbly as you try  to compose yourself and calm your breathing. Benny is looking just as dazed as you’re feeling, and you’re pretty sure that the large wet spot on his jeans isn’t just caused by your arousal only. 

“Pretty Benny,” you say softly as you run your hand through his long locks, admiring the play of dark blond hair with some lighter strands. You’re pleased to see his head tip back as he swallows, anticipation on his face when you slowly twist some of his hair around your fingers. “Tell me something. You like being told what to do?”

Benny’s eyes become glassy at your words, and you feel a little jolt of triumph at his eagerness. Perfect. You give a gentle tug at his hair as a warning for his lack of direct response, and he whimpers. Squeezing his stiff cock through his pants as his gaze remains on you, he doesn’t seem aware of Ezra moving behind him. His eyes close when Ezra’s large hand envelops his throat loosely, cupping it with thick fingers that then move up to stroke his chin. 

“My gem is not in the habit of repeating herself, so I will do you that courtesy right now, Benjamin.” Ezra’s voice is gentle and warm, but you can hear the warning in his words. “She asked whether you like being told what to do.” His thumb slips into Benny’s mouth, its pad stroking Benny’s tongue for just a moment, then resting on his lip again. You feel slightly dizzy by how captivating it is. By no means is Benny a meek man, and he even has a couple of inches on Ezra in height. But there’s a willingness in him to follow orders, particularly when given by Ezra, that you find incredibly exciting.

“I do here, yes.” Benny’s voice is strained, and he finally opens his eyes again, looking at you. Both men having their glances fixed on you, both looking as hungry as you feel; one confident to the point of being almost predatory, the other momentarily overwhelmed by his own arousal. Ezra hums, reaching out to brush Benny’s lower lip with his thumb, his other arm snaking around Benny’s waist in an embrace. He dips his head down slightly so he can whisper in Benny’s ear, and you already know what he’s going to say.

“Suck it.”

Benny obeys immediately. The wet sound of his mouth around Ezra’s thumb gives you goosebumps, and you feel yourself throbbing once again. You had not yet planned on coming, preferring to take your time and enjoying the lazy exploration between the three of you. But you can’t help yourself any longer - you need your release now. 

You slide your hand between your legs and touch your clit, gasping at how swollen and sensitive it is from Benny touching you earlier, and the extensive attention Ezra had paid to your pussy even earlier. Before you can reach further and slip a finger or two inside, Benny’s hand reaches for yours, a pleading expression in his eyes. 

You nod benevolently, feeling his fingers gently enter you - only two, but thicker than yours are, and you moan as he strokes you, explores you. With ease he finds the right spot inside of you, rubbing and tapping it gently, and he smiles when you clench tight around him in response, your pulse suddenly skyrocketing. Without even blinking, he increases the pressure a bit while you stroke your clit, in tandem working towards your orgasm, and in no time at all you’re crying out and coming hard around his fingers.  

Only once you’ve eased down, Benny withdraws from you, a content look on his face. For a moment you think that he’s going to put his fingers to his mouth, but he surprises you - turning to look at Ezra and offers him his slick fingers. The glee on Ezra’s face couldn’t possibly be any more radiant, and he grins as he wraps his fingers around Benny’s wrist. “A most gracious offering, my friend - it appears we have a good partnership here,” he muses as he lifts Benny’s hand to his lips. 

“Fuck me, you’re killing me with that,” you whimper, hearing how hoarse your voice sounds. The sight of Ezra sucking Benny’s fingers into his mouth, cleaning them with his tongue before he lets go, is making you greedy. For more, for them, for someone’s dick being taken down someone else’s throat, and it’d better be soon. 

Ezra smirks, entirely too pleased with your reaction, then leans in to kiss Benny. Cupping his face in his hand, a gentle kiss on his lips first, but as Benny sighs in pleasure you see Ezra quickly get bolder. He shifts on the bed as he draws Benny closer to him, fingers stroking through the dark blond hair as he leans to kiss his jawline, then lets his lips wander back to Benny’s mouth again. 

“Your eyes are extraordinarily striking.” Ezra hums, almost as if talking to himself, his thumb brushing over Benny’s eyebrow. “Ocean blue, but.. viridescent. No. Aquamarine,” he corrects himself, and you smile to yourself - that’s exactly what you expected him to call it the moment you laid eyes on Benny. Leave it up to Ezra to try to capture colors through precious stones rather than using obvious terms. 

Benny laughs a little awkwardly, clearly unsure how to respond to that. “Ahh, thanks? Hey man, you don’t need to woo me.”

“I can assure you I am not even doing such a thing, Benjamin, nor do I believe that I will have to do so when pursuing you,” Ezra teases him playfully, reaching down to the unzipped jeans so he can cup Benny’s cock through the gray underwear. “If I may be so bold - you already appear to be a done deal, my friend. Wooing does not seem necessary anymore.”

Benny huffs as he shakes his head dismissively. “You’re very cocky.”

“You’re very pretty.” Ezra laughs loudly when Benny blushes again, and you reach out for Ezra’s hair as you give it a hard tug before he can say anything else.

“Smart ass. Be nice to our guest, hmm?”

“Of course.” Without missing a beat Ezra’s hand lightly grasps yours and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to it. “You may want to go have a drink of water, gem. Hydrate yourself. Perhaps bring your cock with you when you return?”

Benny looks confused for a second, but seems to drop it when Ezra grabs him for a proper kiss this time. There’s a moment of hesitation from Benny, but then his hand slides into Ezra’s neck and he pulls him closer. He takes over the kiss from Ezra, tongues greedily finding each other to share the taste of you and explore each other. Fuck, they’re beautiful. Ezra’s roughness, unpolished edges and a direct approach to ensnare you in his words, make you part of his game - versus Benny’s eagerness, being entirely too pretty, the light and captivating energy around him impossible to resist. They’re a good match in all their contrasts.

Benny pushes Ezra down into the pillows, practically climbing into his lap, and Ezra’s large hands immediately paw at him to remove his shirt. It’s tempting to stay and watch, but you remind yourself that some water is a more urgent need right now. You gulp down a cup from the chilled pitcher, then half of another one as you walk to the dresser across the room. The mirror above it gives you a perfect view of the guys making out, and you shamelessly admire them as you rummage through your toy drawer. First your leather harness, then you sort through the silicone dicks until you find the turquoise one that you like the best for Ezra.

Once you’ve put on the harness and slipped the dildo through through the O-ring, you walk back to the bed under the watchful eye of Ezra, who has Benny grinding into his lap as they’re still making out like teenagers. Eventually he breaks the kiss, sucking a quick hickey onto Benny’s throat as he watches you touch your silicone dick. 

“Kevva, gem. Look at your cock,” he says quietly, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire for you. He grabs Benny’s chin lightly and turns his head, making him look at you, and you see the surprised expression on Benny’s face as he takes in your appearance. The way the leather straps softly dig into your skin, the size of the dildo, and then you see the realization dawn on his face that none of this is a surprise to Ezra. 

“Your mouth is all messed up,” you say as you reach out for Benny stroking the slight redness that Ezra’s stubble left on his pale skin, lips swollen from kissing and his skin slightly flushed from Ezra’s stubble. “Looks good on you.” 

“Would look even better on you, gem.” Ezra’s voice is low and gravely as he runs his fingers through Benny’s hair, brushing the strands back. “How about you suck her cock, Benjamin. Do you see how magnificent it looks on her? You can show her that you know how to use that pretty mouth in different ways,” Ezra whispers into his ear, urging Benny off the bed and in front of you, then adds, “Show us how you can take me in later.” 

The breath Benny sucks in at those words is clearly audible, making Ezra’s grin widen even more as he moves to stand behind you, running his hands over your soft curves as he keeps his hard dick pressed against your ass. For a moment you wonder if this might be pushing him a bit too much, but then Benny kneels at your feet, a sight to behold. All lean muscle and strong arms, dick hard in his underwear, and looking even more fucked out than earlier. 

Benny’s fingers brush over the leather straps of your harness as he examines it on you, pressing kisses to some spots where the leather is threatening to leave an imprint on your skin. “I like the leather,” he says, sounding almost surprised, and just like earlier you find yourself clenching again, especially when he fingers the base of your cock and the balls. For some reason his careful explorations thrill you more than expected, especially once he decides to go for it and lap the head of your cock. Careful licks at first as he seems bashful, fingers brushing over the ridges and fake veins on the phallic silicone. You let him explore, let him get used to the idea of him being on his knees and about to take you in - hell, let him get used to the idea of a dick in his mouth period, even if it is a fake one.

“It’s not gonna bite you, Benjamin.” Ezra has moved over to Benny and is now kneeling behind him, hand resting on Benny’s back as he nods at the dildo. “Will you allow me?”

You raise an eyebrow at Ezra. “Look at you, so polite and sweet to him. Why don’t I get that?”, you tease, and Ezra grins as he smacks your ass hard, making you yelp.

“Because you do not care for that, gem. Come here.” You watch as Ezra’s hand closes around the strap on, leaning in without a moment of hesitation.He’s done this so many times, but never in front of anyone else. Benny watches Ezra’s tongue lavish your cock with attention, and you can tell from the way Ezra’s fingers press into your hips that he’s getting too excited, his body desperately needing release from having been stimulated in so many ways this afternoon.

A quiet groan escapes from Benny’s lips as he watches Ezra’s head bobbing, up and down, and you see Benny’s hand close around himself, the head of his cock almost angrily red and leaking all over him. He fucks himself into his fist, then whines loudly when he sees Ezra take you in all the way - sliding down on your cock until his nose meets your skin and the leather straps. 

You laugh, almost breathlessly, as you slide your hand into Ezra’s sweaty hair and cup the back of his head, holding him in place as you watch his throat work on you. “You take it so well, Ezra. Fuck, yeah, there you go,” you gasp, starting to pull back when you feel him gag for a moment. “Easy there, easy-”

“I’m fine,” the words stutter from Ezra’s lips as he sits up, catching his breath before he turns to Benny, his eyes glimmering with mischief. “Oh, shit. That really got you going, huh?” He sounds hoarse as he nods at Benny touching himself, then leans over to him, pulling Benny into another sloppy kiss. His hand joins Benny’s, intending to help jerk him off - but you’re officially out of patience with Ezra’s chaotic energy crackling at frantic levels. He’s been too wired for too long now, and you know there’s only one way he’s going to be able to let that go.

“Get your ass on that bed,” you tell him as you smack his butt playfully, looking for the container of slick under the pillow. “Now, pretty boy. You too, other pretty boy,” you nod at Benny, “...go sit against the headboard.” 

They both follow your lead, but you can tell by the glint in Ezra’s eye that he’s not about to back down - you know it’ll just be a matter of minutes before he’s running his mouth again. “I don’t want to hear you. Got it?”, you warn him preemptively as you push him down in the sheets, onto his stomach, then give his ass another hard slap as you twist the lid off the small glass jar with slick. 

Ezra groans, letting out a deep sigh as he looks back at you. “Again. Other side too,” he says hoarsely, then sucks in a deep breath when you oblige - a smack against his other cheek, then two more on each of them as you hear him whimper in pleasure. 

“Thought I told you to be quiet”, you challenge him as you spread the slick all over your cock. “Ass up now. Are you–”

“I’m fine, yeah,” he interrupts you, so eager he’s nearly tripping over his words, and he whines as you spread his cheeks, running your slick fingers over his asshole. “Please, just…” He groans when you run your thumb over his rim, letting it slip into for a moment. “Shit, shit, yes. Come on, gem, I can-...”

His words trail off as you push into him, just the tip of your cock at first, making sure he’s taking you as well as usual. When he nods at you to keep going, you slide your hand under him and reach for his half hard cock, stroking him steadily as you push further into him. His breathing still stutters but he takes the strap easily, eagerly as always. When you look up for a moment you see Benny staring at the two of you in awe. 

Ezra notices it too, and you feel the laugh that’s rolling through his chest before you hear it. “I think Benjamin is rather intrigued by the idea of being taken by a cock, gem,” he suggests, sounding rather amused as he grinds back against you. You pick up the pace as you thrust into him, and it doesn’t take long for those broad shoulders to fully relax. His cock is leaking in your hand as you fuck him steadily, hitting him at just the right angle to make him groan, and you hear him lick his lips as he beckons Benny to scoot closer. “Benjamin… come over here, won’t you? I don’t bite. Unless you’d want me to, in which case… today is going to turn out even better than I thought it was.”

“Hey, Benny? I’m gonna need your help here,” you order the other man as you keep up your pace, resting one hand on Ezra’s hip and the other one on his back, as you stroke his warm skin that’s glistening with sweat. “Need you to shut him up, okay?”

“Fuck. Yes - please,” Ezra gasps, his voice breaking for a second, and you feel a shiver run through him. You’re not even sure which one of you three groans the loudest when he takes Benny’s cock in his mouth, but you can feel your thighs slick with our arousal by the view in front of you. Benny’s a goner almost right away, his hand on the back of Ezra’s bobbing head as he guides him down on his dick, hips pushing eagerly towards his release. 

When Ezra’s nose brushes against Benny’s neatly trimmed pubes, holding still for a moment, Benny’s hand drops away as he mumbles something incoherent. You hear Ezra’s half choked grin, see him pull back as he licks Benny’s tight ball sack which earns him another moan. “Tap out if it’s a no,” Ezra tells him before he spits on his digits, brushing his fingertips over Benny’s taint which gets him an even louder moan than before.

“Jesus, Ezra,” Benny mumbles as he closes his eyes, leaning his head back as he lets Ezra handle him. You’re not surprised when you see a flash of Ezra’s pink tongue sliding over the perineum, and you slow down your thrusts to not jostle him too much. When Benny’s hips suddenly buck up hard without a warning, you hear Ezra hum and the sound of more spit against skin.

“Just relax, Benjamin, I’ve got you. Let it go,” Ezra hushes him, rubbing Benny’s thigh soothingly as he keeps his mouth to him, a soft smack of his lips as he sucks on his finger. “ ‘s Gonna feel good, I promise, yeah?” Even though being behind Ezra doesn’t quite provide you with a clear view, you can see just enough of what’s going on - Ezra’s tongue tracing Benny’s rim, slick with saliva, hushing him some more to relax as he takes his time, and then Benny whimpering when Ezra’s finger gently pushes inside of him.

“Fuck. Ezra, fuuck, I can’t– please… please,” Benny begs him, and Ezra beams as his finger slides into the second knuckle. He hums as he mouths Benny’s balls before moving back to his cock, the back of his head blocking most of your view as he works on drawing more moans and pleas from Benny. It’s not long before Benny cries out Ezra’s name along with a string of curses, his body shaking hard until he goes pretty much boneless. 

Benny heaves a deep sigh as he practically melts into the bed, reaching out to brush something off Ezra’s face - some spilled come, you would assume. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding very regretful at all as a smirk plays over his face. “Got it all over, huh?”

“I’ll take you on your word that that was not deliberately aimed, Benjamin,” Ezra says with a shrug, brushing the back of his hand over his cheeks and forehead. “Make sure to keep that in mind next time when I bust a nut over your face, too, hmm?” he adds with a grin as he wipes his hand clean on a bedsheet, then wiggles his ass against as he looks at you over his shoulder. “That was some good team work from our partnership, gem.”

You nodded as you rub his ass gently, moving along with him as you slowly start to pick up the pace again. “Hey, at least it wasn’t me in the line of fire this time, you know?” 

He laughs at you, stretching his arms one by one, followed by his back as he hums contently under your touch - the caresses to his back, the kiss you press against his bicep. He still has the predatory look on his face from earlier, that panther stretching in the sun while examining his prey, looking extra smug this time. 

“Yeah, but you clean it up so pretty with your mouth,” he teases, the two of you both knowing that Ezra is always the first to grab you a wet towel when it’s needed. “As for now…” His eyes darken slightly as he grasps your hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss before he brings it to his throat, folding your fingers gently around him.

“Better finish me good, gem. You know I’ll make it worth your while.”

My brain was fried when I put this up originally, so I'm tagging people only now to let y'all know this posted (and you may be interested): @marisferasiop @ghostofaboy @immarocketman @ezrasbirdie @whatsnewalycat @gasolinerainbowpuddles @idolatrybarbie @writefightandflightclub @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @maggiemayhemnj @linzels-blog @lady-bess @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @undercoverpena @sp00kymulderr @i-own-loki @ladamedusoif @penvisions @bonezone44 @auteurdelabre @ohforficsake @swiftispunk @max--phillips @kiwisbell @beskarandblasters @rifflovesjoey @chronically-ghosted @iamskyereads

Love to all the sluts! <3 @redhotkitchen @sparklefarts38 @exquisiteserotonin @pink-whiskey-woman @youandmeand5bucks @legendary-pink-dot @secretelephanttattoo @arcanefox207

Taglist for those who requested it : @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @pimosworld @survivingandenduring @romanarose @rubyfruitjungle @criticalarchitecture @kt86 @gemmahale @rav3n-pascal22 @rhoorl @laurfilijames @musings-of-a-rose @perotovar

[workersolidarity]

[ 📹 A child, wounded in the Israeli occupation's bombing of a school housing displaced civilian families outside the city of Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip, seeks comfort in the face of his brother as he lies helpless on a hospital bed. 📸 Photo of the evacuation orders issued by the Zionist army mandating all civilians to leave the city of Gaza under the threat of bombardment. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

GAZA GENOCIDE DAY 278: ZIONIST OCCUPATION ORDERS THE EVACUATION OF GAZA CITY WHILE COMMITTING BRUTAL NEW MASSACRES, SLAUGHTERS LARGE NUMBERS OF CIVILIANS IN BOMBING OF SCHOOL HOUSING DISPLACED PALESTINIAN FAMILIES AS GENOCIDE CONTINUES UNABATED

On 278th day of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 4 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 52 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 208 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

It should be noted that as a result of the constant Israeli bombardment of Gaza's healthcare system, infrastructure, residential and commercial buildings, local paramedic and civil defense crews are unable to recover countless hundreds, even thousands, of victims who remain trapped under the rubble, or who's bodies remain strewn across the streets of Gaza.

This leaves the official death toll vastly undercounted as Gaza's healthcare officials are unable to accurately tally those killed and maimed in this genocide, which must be kept in mind when considering the scale of the mass murder.

The Israeli occupation army has ordered the complete evacuation of Gaza City, once again displacing many thousands of Palestinian residents as the Zionist army continues its massacres of civilians.

According to Israeli Channel-12 News, the occupation army issued a proclamation to residents of Gaza City, stating that "Safe crossings allow you to pass quickly and without inspection from Gaza City to the shelters in Deir al-Balah and al-Zawaida. Omar Al-Mukhtar Street and Tarek Bin Ziyada Street are considered safe corridors to cross west to Al-Rashid Street and from there south. Al-Wahda Street and Khalil Al-Wazir Street are considered safe corridors for moving east to the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood and the city square, and from there to Salah al-Din in the south. Gaza City will be a dangerous combat zone."

Often, Israeli orders of evacuation often show faulty maps replete with missing sections or give contradictory orders, even according to information published by the mainstream US newspaper, the New York Times.

At the same time, the World Health Organization (WHO) has raised alarms over the escalating healthcare crises amidst ongoing Israeli bombing and chaotic evacuations, expressing concern that the occupation's evacuation orders interferes with the treatment of wounded civilians.

In a post to the social media platform X, Director-General of the WHO, Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, warned that "There’s really no safe corner in Gaza. The latest reports on evacuation orders in Gaza City will further impede delivery of very limited life saving care."

Ghebreyesus said in his post that Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital and other "patient friendly hospitals" are no longer operational, with patients forced to either self-evacuate, or are being transferred to Kamal Adwan Hospital or the Indonesian Hospital, both of which are suffering from a severe "shortage of fuel, beds and trauma medical supplies."

The "Indonesian Hospital is triple over its capacity," according to Ghebreyesus, while Al-Helou Hospital, just blocks outside the evacuation area, is only partially operational. Additionally, Ghebreyesus said that As-Sahaba and Al-Shifa Hospitals, also just outside the main evacuation area, remain functional at this time.

"Six medical points and two primary health care centers are also within the evacuation zones," the Director-General said of the situation in and around Gaza City, adding a warning that "These key hospitals and medical facilities could quickly become non-functional due to hostilities in their vicinity or obstruction to access."

Elaborating on the catastrophic healthcare situation in the Gaza Strip, WHO spokesperson Tarik Jasarevic, speaking at a United Nations press conference, said that just 13 out of 36 hospitals in Gaza remain partially operational.

Explaining the situation, Jasarevic said that "patients and medical staff evacuated three hospitals in one week in southern Gaza, fearing that intensified military operations could render health facilities inoperable or inaccessible."

"The cumulative capacity of beds in the six partially operating hospitals in southern Gaza, 3 in Deir al-Balah and 3 in Khan Younis, now stands at 1,334 beds," Jasarevic stated.

Jasarevic went on to add that "there are a total of 11 field hospitals in the Strip, three of which had to temporarily close, and four of which are partially operational due to hostilities in Rafah and reduced accessibility."

"Most of the field hospitals in Rafah will move to the central area," the WHO spokesperson concluded.

Meanwhile, even as the Israeli occupation displaced tens of thousands of civilians, forcing them out of Gaza City, no such orders were issued to the four schools housing displaced civilian families that the occupation army bombed over the last several days, killing at least 73 Palestinians, including large numbers of women and children.

The first of the bombings targeted a UNRWA School in the Nuseirat Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, on July 6th, which housed upwards of 2'000 displaced Palestinians.

The bombing resulted in the deaths of 16 Palestinian civilians, most of whom were women and children, while another 50 others were wounded in the massacre.

The following day, the Zionist army bombed the "Holy Family" School in the northern Gaza Strip, killing 4 Palestinians and wounding many others.

Just one day later, on July 8th, Zionist warplanes bombed another UNRWA School in the Nuseirat Camp, resulting in a number of casualties.

The attacks on schools culminated with an occupation army attack on the Al-Awda School, housing displaced Palestinian families in the town of Abasan Al-Kabira, east of the city of Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip, killing upwards of 29 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, and wounding more than 53 others.

Observers have taken note the the four attacks on schools in Gaza have come in the context of ongoing hostage exchange negotiations between the Zionist entity and the Palestinian Resistance group, Hamas.

Deadly massacres aside, the Israeli occupation's bombing and shelling continues in various residential areas of the Gaza Strip, with dozens more Palestinians killed and wounded in the occupation army's attacks.

According to the official Palestinian news agency WAFA, on the 278th day of the Israeli occupation's ongoing genocide, local correspondants have reported the deaths of 8 citizens, including 6 children, and the injury of 10 others, as a result of the occupation army's bombing of residential homes in the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip.

The Israeli occupation forces also bombed several commercial shops in the Nuseirat Municipality, resulting in fires and massive destruction.

Occupation forces went on to bombard residential buildings in the Al-Mughraqa area, north of the Nuseirat Camp, also in the central Gaza Strip.

Additionally, paramedic and rescue crews have reported the deaths of at least 10 civilians, and several other casualties, after an occupation raid on Al-Nasr Street, as well as a residential apartment on the same street, near the "Eye Hospital", north of Gaza City.

Occupation artillery shelling pummeled neighborhoods southwest of Gaza City, wounding a number of civilians, including women and children, while occupation artillery shelling also targeted the Young Muslims Women's Association, located in the Jasmine Building in the city.

Zionist soldiers also fired heavy machine guns into various buildings in the Saudi neighborhood, west of the city of Rafah, south of Gaza.

In some more detail on some of the Israeli occupation forces' attacks today, local medical sources reported to WAFA News that 4 citizens were killed, and several others wounded, after occupation fighter jets bombed a residential house on Salah al-Din Street, north of the Nuseirat Camp, in central Gaza.

Similarly, in yet another atrocity, Zionist warplanes bombarded another residential home in the town of Bani Suhaila, east of the city of Khan Yunis, murdering two Palestinian civilians and wounding at least 6 others.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing war of extermination against the Palestinian population of the Gaza Strip, the infinitely rising death toll now exceeds 38'295 Palestinians killed, including at least 10'000 women and over 15'000 children, while another 88'241 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

For a total casualty count of over 126'500, or just over 5.5% of the total Palestinian population of the Gaza Strip.

July 10th, 2024.

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@WorkerSolidarityNews

[admrlthundrbolt]

New Future Weapon (Mutant Wesker x Chubby Reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wesker had never been a man to let limitations stop him. Not even his humanity. So when sweet reader is such a good employee. What is such a powerful man to do, but take advantage of his position.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi guys, I'm back at it again. I recently rewatched all of the live action Resident Evil movies. I knew I had to write something for some of the characters. Let's just say Wesker wormed his way into my head and wouldn't leave. So now I have this. Hope you enjoy.

---------------------------------------------------------

He had been to ambitious. A feat he would have never considered before. Taken things to far. Turning his body into a weapon at the cost of his own humanity. It had been a risk and he was paying for it.

So he had opted to hiding his new form. Projecting a hologram of his former self. Never leaving his office or chancing someone glimpsing him.

It made his stomach burn with hatred. He had wanted to be in control so badly. That he had lost himself in the process. It was maddening and sickening all at once. He had all but smashed any surface that may reflect his new body. Staring down at the bloody slashes in his hands. Relishing in how the stinging pain and crimson liquid gave him a whisper of humanity. Until the wounds began to stitch themselves back together and remind him. He was a monster and would stay that way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His work was interupted by an odd shuffling. It had been weeks since the last person was allowed in his office. Now his only source of human interaction was through the Umbrella security cameras. It not as if he was ever the most social man, but he did miss physical contact every once and a while. Even if that contact was only to rip someone limb from limb.

Peering around the door from his living area, he glared towards his desk. Most called him a workaholic for living in a room attached to his office. While he called it efficient. It was especially fortunate with his current set of circumstances.

What he saw was especially surprising. There you were, shuffling through a filing cabinet against the wall. You were what he would consider a special case. A bit clumsy and naive. But an all around great worker. He had met you before becoming the creature he was now. You had barely met his gaze and fidgeted in place. Something he would usually find annoying. With you though it was endearing. Watching your soft hands clutch a stack of files. It would make his gaze linger a bit to long.

His gaze had a habit of following you. Thankful for his practice of wearing sunglasses everywhere. And his transformation hadn't stopped the trend. If you were in the building, one of the security cameras was trained on you. Tracking your every step. How you had made it into his office without him noticing was a mystery.

Now he had a dilemma on his hands. His fingers twitched as thoughts of how your plush skin would feel against them. But did he risk you seeing him? He struggled with the decision for a few moments. That is until a deliciously devious thought entered his mind. Why shouldn't he keep you here. Make you his personal assistant of sorts. His heart thrumed at the idea. Yes that would do nicely.

In a mere second he was behind you. Trapping you between him and the filing cabinet. “What a wonderful coincidence. You're just the person I wanted to speak with.” He could feeling you tremble under him. It was an exhilaration feeling. To think he could have had this all along.

You pinched your eyes shut tightly. Maybe if you hoped hard enough he would disappear. As his hot breath continued to fan over the back of your neck. You knew there was no way out of this. Turning towards him, your eyes widened. He had definitely changed since your last meeting.

He had to be at least two heads taller. He was wider too. Seeming to have doubled if not tripled his muscle mass. And you could have sworn that there was something flicking behind him. As you squinted for a better look, he shifted his face back into your veiw. Even his eyes seemed to glow behind his usual shades.

Still it would do to quietly shake in front of him. “Why would that be, Sir?”

He saviors the authority he held over you. The way the title slid off your tounge. It made a shock run down the length of his spine. “I've suddenly found myself in need of a personal assistant. Your performance has led me to believe you are the perfect candidate.” A feral grin took over his expression.

You gave a slow shake of your head at the suggestion. But stopped as his brow furrowed. “I don't mean any disrespect Sir. I'm just not sure that my superior would be happy with that. I don't want to become a burden on the company by switching departments.” While you may be telling the ‘truth’. You weren't sure what your chances of survival would be under a man like Wesker.

His face smoothed at the admission. Yet another example of your wonderful work ethic. Placing a hand on your shoulder, he gave a firm squeeze. “I'm sure they'll make an exception for me.” He would make sure of that. Even if he had to pry your transfer from their cold lifeless hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was the start of your ‘professional’ partnership with Wesker. You were under his constant vigilent watch. His work production had taken a hit from it. But who would be the one to question him. To get in his way? No one. He had made sure of that.

Though that didn’t stop the occasional intrusion. Something that he was growing weary of. It had made the virus within him burn. An almost unbearable heat to stoke inside his blood. Coaxing him to further the mutation that brewed internally. Something that he had you assist with.

You were so easy to guide. It was a pity he hadn't realized your potential before now. But he had you and he wouldn't let you go.

Glancing at you from behind tinted lenses. He couldn't help the smirk that shifted onto his face. Your face scrunched in concentration as you typed away. No mattered what you did it seemed to enamore him. You had an enchanting beguiling pull he had never experienced before.

You turned to ask a question and was startled to notice him already facing you. “Um, Sir, I need verification to access this file.” You shifted nervously in your seat as he stared.

Nodding, he turned to his own computer. Granting you access without a second thought. It was so nice to pass along the tedious side of this job to someone else. Yes, you were an asset that he would take full advantage of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His head was pounding. Another migraine caused by the virus. It pulsed through his body and attempted to control him. Falling to his knees, he clutched his head.

Startled at the sudden sound. You cautiously made your way towards the noise. Peeking into Wesker's private residence you paused. He was slumped on his knees. His hands, which were more tentacle like these day, grabbed at his head.

You hesitated to move forward. This was the man that had turned your life upside down. Why should you give him your sympathy. But as he whined in pain. You couldn't help the way your heart lurched. Shuffling to the nearby bathroom, you wet a rag with cool water.

You warily made your way to his side. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you tensed. When he didn't have a adverse reaction, you knelt beside him. Pressing the cold cloth to his forehead, he relaxed immediately. Sagging into your soft body. He wrapped his larger form around you. Taking in any comfort you would give him. No words were exchanged, they didn't need to be.

It was this small act of kindness that seemed to shift your relationship into a new direction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that day it seemed that the pair of you had changed. He would be more considerate of you. Bringing you coffee in the morning. Asking you about your day. Treating you like a person rather than a belonging.

Where you had become compassionate. Not brushing away his new affection. Helping him through his spells of anguish. The virus had taken a toll on his body. Even as he stopped his attempts at furthering the mutation. That didn't stop the effects that his experiments had done. You had even taken to staying in his office. It was after a particularly horrible night.

You had held him in your lap as shakes would taken over him from time to time. He couldn't keep anything down. Anytime you offered to go get help, he would cling to you. In shuddery breaths he would say that he only needed you. You were the only thing that help him, made him feel human again.

So a second bed was quickly added to the makeshift apartment. You were allowed as much space as you wanted. But you didn't have much. Only a few personal affects and most of it could fit in a couple of suitcases.

It seemed as if you were become more personal than an assistant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alarms were blaring and lights were flashing. It ripped the both of you from your slumber. You had just manage to raise yourself into a sitting position. When Wesker sprinted into the room. Hovering over you, he check that you were OK. Shocked by his sudden appearance and bit of man handling, you gasped.

Shooing him away, you attempted to shout over the noise. “We need to evacuate. There's no telling what could have set that off.”

He nodded, but stayed rooted to your side. Shaking your head, you gathered anything that could be important. Pushing him towards his own room, you helped him move along quickly. It took longer than you would have liked. But it was hard to hurry a giant mutant man as he straped weapons to his body.

Darting through the facilty you made your way up to the evacuation zone. It was suspicious how there were no other people in the halls. Until you came across the elevators. Piles of unmoving bodies blocked the doors. There was no obvious signs of death. It looked as if they dropped where they were standing.

Shaking your head you looked towards him. His glowing eyes narrowed at the corpses. “Never would have trusted them anyways. Stairs are much more reliable.” Wrapping his large hand around your plush waist, he guided you away.

The silence that followed was tense. Only your slight pants filled the air. By the seventh flight of stairs you couldn't take it.

Stopping in your trek, you glared at him. “That's all you could think about? How dangerous the elevators could be. Not all of those lives lost?” As the words let your mouth they felt vile. Like something you had wanted to purge yourself from for a while.

He looked back at you, his stance taut. Brow pinch in annoyance, he frowned. “No I was thinking about the fasted way out of here. A route that would keep both of us safe.”

Reaching for you, he was surprised when you stepped back. Bringing his hand back to his side, his fist clenched. Look, I'm in the dark just as much as you are in this situation. If I had any idea that this would happen. We would have left long before now.”

Your expression became more heated. “And that's the point. Your concerned is about yourself. Not all of the bodies that are left in Umbrella's path.”

His shock was palpable. Where was this coming from? He had never seen you this passionate before. He was in awe of this side of you. Though that didn't stop his indignation at the situation. “I want to get both of us out of here safely as quickly as possible. We can't do anything for those people now.”

Stepping forward, he grabbed you quickly. Hefting you onto his shoulder, he squeezed your soft body tightly. Digging his fingers into the fat of your thigh. You squirmed as he sprinted up the stairs. “And if I'm not mistaken, we're employed by the same company.” He was to preoccupied to see the guilty look that came over your face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reaching the top floor, he set you down gently. He trusted you to stay with him, even if it may be a bit reluctant. That didn't stop him from wrapping an arm around your plush waist. He soaked up your warmth, but didn't force you to stay in his embrace. There was a part of you that chastised yourself for not pulling away. While the logical part argued that it was safer to stay close.

The sign for the exit shuttles loomed ahead. Hearing a familiar voice you sprinted forward. Only to realize your mistake a moment to late. There stood Caleb, your coworker, though not through Umbrella.

He started to cross the room towards you. “(Y/N), thank God. I was worried that you got taken out too.” His eyes glossed over in tears as he came closer. “I can't believe what they did. How did you survive?” He skidded to a halt as Wesker cleared the corner into the room.

You immediately put yourself between them. Sending a sharp look the mutants way, you said. “Don't even think about starting something.” Shifting your gaze to the other man, you frowned. “Explain what happened here.”

Wide eyes darted between you and the much taller man. “Wwwe didn't know how to infiltrate. Especially after we couldn't get any more information from you.” Giving you a hard look, the glassiness of his eyes increased. “We thought you were found out. Tortured and killed for all we knew. So we decided to go through with it. Break in and grab whatever information we could.” He became silent after that. Wringing his hands, a habit he had since childhood. One that you knew meant something went wrong.

Hearing a shuffle behind you, your head turns quickly. Wesker was reaching into his coat. Placing a firm hand on his arm, you shook your head. Frowning he lowered the hand. You gave him a meaningful look. “It's important to gather what data while we can.” He reluctantly nodded and you faced the other man, nodding for him to continue.

His wringing became more frantic. “We tried to stop him. Frank that is. You remember him right. He was the type to always charge in.” He glared at the floor, then looked at you angrily. “Well it turned out he only rushed in to gain something. When he found the antidote he went crazy. Started shooting everyone and rushed out of the room. It set off some kind of alarms and a bunch of people started dropping. I was luck though. Still up here on the cameras.”

You went to step forward. To comfort your friend, but a hand stopped you. It was firm and large, holding you in place. Glancing back, you noticed he didn't take his eyes off the smaller man. Turning you noticed that his hands held a gun now. His hands trembled as he grasped it. Then he pointed it in your direction.

“You know this never would have happened if it wasn't for you. If you had done what you were supposed to do. We could have taken down Umbrella. But no, you had to get attached to this fucking monster.” Spit flew from his mouth as he screamed at you.

You wished you could argue with him. But deep down you knew he had a point. Still that didn't mean you stopped Wesker from lashing out at him. Tearing him apart and making sure there was no chance of survival.

As you stepped on the train car, you knew that his gaze was on you. That the both of you had some things to explain and work through. And you would, because in a way you were stuck with each other. But there wasn't any other way either of you would want it.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Shield of Stars (Biotic!Reader x Kaidan Alenko x Steve Rogers)

@jayfeather965 male reader x Kaidan x Steve when Steve awakens in 2181 Mass Effect universe

Historically, putting soldiers in the same platoon really was the closest way to getting people to bond.

Could it have been anything other than inevitable when you and Kaiden fell for the Captain?

Your group, the Brooklyn Squad, wasn't actually meant to see combat.

It was more of an honor guard for Steve, an honorary ambassador and a living relic - technically the first biotic made by humans.

Though Steve's body carries no element zero and he cannot manipulate mass effect fields, it was Erskine's formula and subsequent research that was able to prepare certain people for bio-amp implantation and help make safe biotics out of those exposed to eezo.

The Brooklyn Squad consists of Steve, you, Kaidan, a turian who has come to respect and appreciate Steve's ethics, an asari, and a few other human biotics. It doesn't technically have any jurisdiction or ability to enforce galactic law...

But after an incident in which the Squad discovered and liberated a bunch of sapients kidnapped and enslaved by batarians, it has become the personal overt task force of the Council.

Officially the turian is the commanding officer for the Brooklyn Squad, though the chain of command is unlike what Steve is used to, since he was in the military over two hundred years ago.

But Steve really does appreciate having not only a goal and missions, but people he can truly trust, like when he was part of the Howling Commandos.

It's different for him - seeing you and Kaidan kiss. He makes an awkward joke about fraternization to cover for his unease, which he looks into.

Steve's never only been into women. But for a long time he sort of had to be above all that, first when he was in the US Military during the war, and now when he's an icon and completely out of his own time.

It wasn't conducive to exploring romance or even his own feelings. But seeing you and Kaidan openly loving one another without any thought of retaliation or anger - it shocks him. And it gives him hope.

He talks a little to the other members of the Squad about it, about how love is now, in this world where people are citizens of planets and systems and humans are not alone - about plural marriage and polyamory and sexuality and gender expression

How turian culture differs from asari from human from salarian and so on. Steve learns and expands as the whole Squad helps him to accept himself, and everything else.

And that's when Steve asks you two out. Still unsure, but wanting to try - Steve asks you and Kaidan on a date, accepting the potential of you both saying no.

But you say yes.

Yes to a trip around the Citadel trying increasingly-unfamiliar foods and laughing at how all of you feel the same kind of wrong-footed.

Yes to a visit to a library for translated volumes of quarian legends and asari myths, and exploring writers from worlds beyond your own.

Yes to a night in to watch Fleet and Flotilla, and to start exploring not only classics that are still way past Steve's time, but things bridging the gap between his missing years and now.

Yes to finding an apartment on the Citadel for an extended shore leave where all of you can stay.

Yes to a trip back to Earth to meet Kaidan's parents, where he introduces you as the loves of his life.

Yes to the rings - beautifully crafted triple bands of gold uniting the three of you as one.

Yes to spending the rest of your lives together amongst the stars, fighting off Reapers and never, ever giving up on each other.

Because if time itself couldn't prevent your love story, nothing can.

[starshipsofstarlord]

hi!! first of all, congrats on 2k!! that's super amazing & you totally deserve it!! also, for the 2k followers blurb event, could you maybe write an allison x lydia x reader platonic-best-friends-type-thing? if not that's totally okay. congrats again!! :)

thankyou sm hun!!!! This is the first blurb that I’ve gotten and I’m so excited, here ya go hun, please enjoy xxxx

Car Ride

Pairings | bestfriend!Lydia x reader, bestfriend!Allisonxreader, bestfriend!Lydia x Allison

Warnings | mentions of sex, mentions of allison x scott breakup, mentions of death, tiny smudge of angst

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Seated in the back of Lydia’s Toyota, you fiddled with your phone, as Allison took shotgun, and the owner of the car herself was behind the wheel, gripping it firmly with her manicured hands. Her fingertips tapped against the wheel, as she waited at the stoplight.

“Are you sure that I can’t like, I don’t know, jump out of this car, and avoid this triple date that has the possibility of turning into a teenage orgy, and like hang out with Isaac or something? He told me he has this new trick in lacrosse and I want to watch.”

Lydia tutted at you from the front, shaking her strawberry blonde head at your naivety. “Honey, he is not wanting to show you his lacrosse skills. I’d be worried if the moves he was hinting at happened on that field, more so if the rest of the team were around. Now that would be an orgy.”

“Ew.” Allison laughed. It felt strange, a good strange, to have the hunter back after summer break. After her mother died, she had left, breaking up with Scott, which now gave Lydia the perfect opportunity to set the brunette up with a random guy from school. Of course, she had to drag you into it too though. “No orgies thank you.” She wrinkled her nose adorably, making you lightly laugh at her.

“Isaac was not hitting on me Lyds, everyone like him has a thing for Erica, or had. I don’t know where she is now, but I’m sure she has a whole flock of werewolves chasing her blonde tail.” Crossing your arms, you allowed your cellular device to drop on your lap, as you leant back in the seat.

“Pack.” Lydia corrected you, making the girl in the seat beside her quirk a brow at her correction. “A mass of werewolves is called a pack. I even read that sometimes, werewolves try to be discreet to their flirting, other times, in Isaac’s case, not so much.”

“Well that wasn’t a page from the library.” You rolled your eyes at her, turning your face to glance out the window, fumbling back as you saw a sight that made you jump. Stiles was waving, unexpectedly in your sights as you gulped, trying to ignore him.

“Hey.” A yell hollered out of the Jeep’s window, as he began to bark profusely towards the three of you. Scott tried to calm him down, but instead, Lydia put her foot on the gas, avoiding them simply by driving off.

“Back to topic, I don’t need a damned book to tell me what’s obvious. Like it’s blatantly obvious that neither one of you want to go on this date, but me, being the good friend that I am, are forcing the pair of you to venture out of your comfort zones.”

“Good and forcing don’t really work that well in a sentence.” You bit politely back, watching as she huffed back at you, sending you a sly wink through the rear view mirror.

“Technically it was a reflection of how, in the past, have made me fight a werewolf, and my ex who ended up being a snake, literally.” She shrugged, pouting as Allison changed the station on the radio.

The road grew dark, the only thing briefly illuminating the road being the head lights of the car. There was a feeling of dread churning in your stomach, as your eyes nervously flickered back and forth ahead. You weren’t sure why but- holy cow.

No, that was the wrong noun. Holy deer! It’s antlers splintered through the wind screen, evoking shrill noises out of each of you, and hurriedly, you escaped the confines of the car. “Are you alright?” Scott and Stiles appeared, revealing that they had been purposely travelling down the same road as you all.

But that didn’t matter, not as you were revelled in shock. Not just by the occurrence, but by the deluding sense of feeling prior. Things were overall weird, and.. supernatural, how did you know that you weren’t the same?

“It just came out of nowhere- I.” Allison stumbled over her words to Scott. And stiles was practically all over Lydia, gushing about her safety, leaving you to hold your arms to enclose yourself in some kind of contact.

A small smile made its way onto your face as you watched Lydia lightly shove Stiles away, and walked towards you, embracing you. Soon Allison joined, calming and soothing your nerves, as you half clung to them.

“I guess we’re not going to be going on that date?” You asked hopefully, amusing the pair of them as Lydia brushed your hair back, relaxing you. Allison removed her jacket, hanging it over your arms, watching contently as you held it tighter around yourself.

Without them, your life would be ordinary... maybe. Without them, you’d have no safe guard nor feeling of acceptance. The dead deer laid upon the hood of Toyota, you could practice feel it staring holes into you, despite its eyes being directed away from you.

“I’m gonna have to call a tow.” Lydia annoyedly mumbled against your head, bringing her phone out, the screen lighting up to reveal nothing more than a picture of you three. You were wrapped in each other’s arms, grand smiles upon all your faces, taken before the summer.

During the holiday, it was clear something had been missing, and here she was, beside you. You tugged the brunette closer, not missing how she tried to secretly glance at her ex, not that you minded. There was history there, but there was to one day be history with you three two, and a future, if you all remained alive...

But for now, this moment would last, forever in your mind. It would be one thing that got you through everything else that had yet to come, even if you were freezing cold, with your legs shaking from wearing that dress that Lydia had persuaded her into.

[ohheyitsokay]

good eye

part 4 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 3.5k (I’m only 14% sorry about that)

warnings: strong language, extremely mild injury, Benny Miller working out, a little bit of a cliffhanger ending

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball. 

“good eye” is an encouragement for batting players, essentially applauding them for having good judgement when and when not to swing.

In this chapter, the guys becoming increasingly aware of how interesting you are to the whole gang - and what they’re going to do about it. 

>>

Bottom of the ninth inning – the end of the game.

Sometimes players fixated on the score, glancing at the flashing lights or acting desperately but for Will, keeping it in his head was just as natural as breathing. Floating around first base made it easy for him to keep an eye on everything, and stay focused under the summer sun. His team was up by two.

The opposition was at bat – their final advantage as the home team. He didn’t feel particularly nervous, but couldn’t breathe easy just yet. They already had two outs, thanks to his little brother’s inhuman speed and some excellent Garcia pitching, and just one more to go before it was all over. Preferably, this would happen before the man on third made it to home base. 

There was a bead of sweat rolling down, down, down his temple over his cheekbone, and into his beard. The clouds from the start of the game were long gone – even with his cap, his blue eyes were getting tired.

They were focused on the batter, not even Pope, and never the crowd, since it was always just a blur of noise and rival colors and waving hands. The closer the game came to an end, the more the mass of people writhed with tension. It was better just to ignore it. There was no reason at all, but he looked up just for a split second and he saw a single, tiny form make itself clear, sending a confusing thrill down his spine.

A familiar crack rang through the air and he snapped back to focus. The batter was hurling towards him, the crowd was holding it’s breath as he looked around, almost frantically.

Where was the ball?!

Your form was still in his minds eye, he didn’t understand, but then – there, in the outfield. No, here. Instinct had taken over.

It was in his glove, and his left toe had found first base. Will heard a curse as the opposing player plowed behind him a second too late, a yell from the umpire, and then the satisfying groans of the other team’s fans.

Pope crashed into him first, then whoever else was the closest. It was giddy and triumphant chaos, hands clapping his shoulder, sweaty hugs, slaps, and high fives, and Will barely noticed any of it. Jogging back to the locker room was quick, the crunch of their shoes in the grit of the field like a stampede, impossibly loud. The locker room wasn’t as bad. It would have been louder if they had lost, like they had expected. Something still felt strange in his gut as they changed and rinsed off and packed their things.

You were interesting to him, he liked how real you were. He was normally the one that grounded others, that kept his head, learned his lessons and left the game on the field. It was nice, spending time with someone he didn’t have to do that for – or really anything for. There wasn’t a need to put on a show for you, or be your steady sidekick. It was nice. But it had only been a lunch and a night at the bar, no reason to know the shape of you, much less be thrown off by it.

He was taking extra care to clean his newest tattoo, absentminded, when the locker-talk caught his attention.

This was the first away game they had won this season, and everyone was debating why their luck had changed. Some of them were arguing loudly, ridiculously, and as usual, his friends started gravitating together, interested, but with lower voices and cooler heads.

“Do you think it was because I wore last weekend’s socks, Fish?” Benny was grinning, as his friends eyebrows answered for him. Frankie was superstitious, but in a way he’d gotten from his abuela, not the game. Will had a thought, the confusing last moment of the game clicking into the conversation, his eyes meeting Pope's for a moment.

“Actually, I have a theory,” he kept his voice quiet. If the rest of the team got wind that William Miller was participating in the banter, they’d be all over him, sure he was right only because he rarely cared. His friends looked at him, curiously, and he chewed on the idea for a moment, liking it more and more until he actually believed himself when he told them.

Their good luck charm?

You.

-

Tom had missed the conversation, occupied with a love-sick staff member in a quiet corner of the stadium.

He would never admit it, but he always needed a distraction when the winning catch had nothing to do with him. And Molly had to travel with the team most weeks anyway, the availability becoming increasingly more appealing than trying his luck with a random fan.

The next day after practice, he found her again and this time, despite the crude nature of the location, he took little more time. It was strange, to grab her without pent up frustration driving his actions, but not an entirely unwelcome change of pace.

He didn’t dwell on it, almost running away, but she did, trailing her fingers over the places his had been as she put herself together again. She wanted to remember each one, to savor them like it was the first time. And maybe it was – the very first time he had even kissed her with no particular personal agenda. Of that, she didn’t feel as guilty about wanting more.

Tom had long since slipped out the door when she finished the process, just slipping on her heels when the someone knocked.

Opening it, she found an eager and awkward shortstop pushing into her office. He seemed nervous, more nervous than she had seen him during photo shoots and press conferences and final innings. It wasn’t what she expected – not the demeanor the players normally held when they asked for favors. Professional athletes were confidant, suave, even. Ben had something else going on, something sweeter, maybe even innocent.

He called her ma’am, and she rolled her eyes when he asked for you number.

“Don’t you boys ever talk?” she was kind of annoyed. Ben was confused, it showed on his face.

“Tom got it awhile ago,” she started, and he got it, immediately. The older man hadn’t told any of them that you would be at the bar last week. He wondered if you knew he had arranged it. Something felt off but before he could ponder it she finished.

“And Santi got it yesterday.” Actually, she was more than annoyed. You hadn’t seemed special at all when you’d been there opening weekend. Your grandfather was sweet but nothing about that day could explain why three of the players were willing to bend the rules to find you again.

Tom’s voice rang in her ears: he’s got it bad for her. That didn’t quite fit what she was seeing, but she cooled down a little.

She didn’t even have to shoo him away, his thank you, ma’am, sorry to bother you made her feel like an old lady as he turned on his heels and trotted off.

The younger Miller was increasingly thoughtful, but he could feel something shift in the air. Then he shrugged it off. He was sure he’d find out, sooner or later.

-

“Ben, where’s your brain?” Catfish had caught him making eyes upside-down at the girl standing by the athletic trainer while he was mid workout. He didn’t really need a partner to work out, but they tried to go together, to spot on another and to argue over who could bench press the most.

He watched as his friend’s brain and body scrambled to put down the weights and he stood up too fast.

Across the room, girlish laughter bubbled and Benny blushed, still not attending as he grabbed the water bottle he was being offered and squirted himself in the mouth.

“What?”

Frankie shot him an amused look, gesturing vaguely, his point now proven. This had happened before. The young player was almost certainly going to tell him some random information now to distract him and trying to avoid the inevitable teasing.

“Did you know Tom got her number?”

It worked. There was almost no context, but he knew immediately and there was a twist in his stomach. It was the answer to a question he didn’t know had been on his mind - Catfish fully short circuited.

Redfly got your number? That was why Frankie had found him putting the moves on you before they were scheduled to meet. He was shaking his head, dazed, when Ben added, “And Santi got it a couple days ago, too.”

A moment of silence, and then,

“Fucking what?!” 

Heads around the private gym turned.

Ben hissed for quiet as he dragged him towards the locker room, and he found himself allowing it as he heart tried to catch up with his mind. No way Pope was going after you too.

“Weird, right?” Frankie felt like ‘weird’ was putting it mildly.

“I just asked for it,”

“You -"

“- because I wanted to be friends, but,” the younger man was ignoring his sputtering panic. He didn’t know if he should be mad or grateful. “Why wouldn’t they tell us?”

That stopped his racing heart. That was the question, wasn’t it? Frankie dragged his hand down his face, smoothed his mustache, readjusted his hat, trying fruitlessly to ground himself.

He said something noncommittal in response, barely hearing himself as he changed the topic. Ben was watching him, he could tell, but it wasn’t as though he could explain why he had reacted so strongly. He didn’t even know why.

It’s not like the feel of you against his hand was all he had been thinking about for the past few days.

His head was spinning, and not in the same way as when he had heard you were at the last game.

Of course other men had their eyes on you. You were gorgeous. His hand twitched on the locker as an image of him pressing you against it flashed through his mind. Shoving it down, he moved on.

You were smart, too, and kind. Certainly he couldn’t be the only one who liked the way you looked when you were thinking, or the little messiness of your hair, or the curve of your neck and shoulders as you leaned against the table.

There was a flare of something green in his chest. He was thinking about your hand on his arm, the way it made him feel like he was your anchor, the white lines on the ground guiding your feet. That, was his. For a moment, his brain reminded him of your lips on Pope’s cheek, your fingers on Benny’s shoulder, and palm on Redfly’s jaw. The locker door resonated in the quiet room as he slammed it shut. Even your eyes in Ironhead's for just a moment… it made him want to kidnap you, press into your space, surround you with his body until all you could see or touch or think about was him. Or maybe it was the opposite. Maybe what he was aching for was for there to be a room full of handsome, athletic, perfect men, and for you to seek him. Find his eyes, and hold them in yours until you reached each other. To choose him. 

Either. Or maybe both.

Whatever he’d been saying got lost on his tongue.

Benny was looking at him thoughtfully, and Frankie sighed, his anger slowing to a simmer. It was absurd, he knew that. Knowing didn’t make it go away, but it helped.

Really, he should be lucky he got any of you at all, that alone was a minor league miracle. Hiking his bag up, he clapped his friend on the shoulder and changed the topic once again.

The smell of dirt and grass and sweaty men faded as they walked out of the room, and when someone made a group chat that included you, Frankie remembered that he liked his friends. The bats in his bag clanged like bells, and Ben said something that made him laugh, and he thought he was a fool to have forgotten it.

-

Santiago was the first one there, over half an hour early, by accident or design you had no idea. He made all of James' things look small, and it made you laugh, because you knew it was only the beginning.

You’d been added to a group chat a few days ago. The list of total bizarre things happening to you was increasing every day of knowing them but you couldn’t exactly complain. It was exciting and honestly, you ached for them in a way you couldn’t explain. Seeing Santiago sent sharp excitement through the anxiety of preparation, but even with the handsome man removing his shoes, you couldn’t help but check behind him for Francisco.

It had been a joke, sort of. They had invited you out and you retaliated by saying you owed them a meal. You should’ve known, already, they weren't afraid to take you up on it, and you’d had to use James as your crutch. His house was much bigger than your apartment, and he was so excited to talk to them it was adorable. Before you’d even turned to Santi properly, they were already chatting, and you watched, smiling.

He looked good. It really was almost as if they actually were family – not physically but you could see it in how they interacted. Santi was more cleaned up than he’d been at the bar, thanking your grandfather like it really was an honor to be welcomed into his home. Jimbo was standing as tall as he could to scruff the younger man’s perfect hair, and you laughed as he clarified that they were always welcome, as long as they helped cook. And when Santi grinned, agreeing readily, the line on his forehead smoothed.

The stress of hosting even such strange guests lessened again, and you slipped back into the kitchen.

Not two minutes later, he found you there, and you could feel him watching you, lounging against the door as graceful and powerful as a panther. Slicing vegetables to grill, you let him, for the time being. He would tell you what he was thinking if he wanted to.

It made you smile again, when his large, calloused hands began to make motions for you to let him take over. Determined or maybe even insistent, but not entitled. He mimicked your cuts, checking silently for your approval, and you saw something in his eyes you hadn’t noticed before.

Over food and drinks he had been smart and clever and passionate – an idyllic picture for over-ambitious fans. None of that was gone, but there was another layer under it, something distinctly humble, and if your dreams hadn’t already been occupied, you might’ve fallen in love with him a little bit. Prepping food to the sounds of quiet music and the rhythmic thumps of the knife against the cutting board felt domestic, but in a familial way. There was no pressure for words, for you, and when he did speak, it seemed as though he agreed.

“This might sound fu… uh, stupid but I’m glad there aren’t bobble heads around.” Of him and his friends, he implied. You wondered if he checked his language for your sake, or out of mindfulness for James.

“He really respects you guys,” you shrugged. “He’s always lecturing me on remembering that you’re human, and not overstepping normal people boundaries.”

Pausing your salad assembly, you stole a glance at him, only to find deep brown eyes looking at you curiously. His hand scraped over the stubble on his jaw, and you could almost see his thoughts, running diamonds in his head.

“Is that why you shot Redfly down?” he wasn’t looking at you, so he missed the tilt of you head. You didn’t need to know the nickname to know what he was talking about, but he clarified a moment later.

You weren't prepared for this to come up, but it shouldn’t have surprised you.

“Yes and no,” was the most honest answer. “He’s already got a girl, whether he knows it or not.” You felt good, talking to him, good like laughing, so you did. It was a strange moment, when the team’s outfield dreamboat had leaned in to kiss you, and you turned him away, but it wasn’t weighing on you at all.

Santiago was grinning at you, hands still, and you wondered if this was the first moment the two of you were seeing each other clearly. Biases and judgement and wariness stripped away easily in the kitchen, like the peels of potatoes.

“So,” his tone and eyes were mischievous, and you had never felt more like an almost stranger was your brother. “If one of the other guys asked you out, you would consider it?”

Face flaring with heat, you barely contained a squawk. He let out a triumphant noise and you shoved him. There was no doubt he wasn’t talking about himself, but you still wanted to melt into the floor.

“Don’t think I haven’t seen –”

“Shut up shut up shut up!”

Both of you were laughing when the other men pushed through the front door.

Santi answered their raised eyebrows by sticking out his tongue.

-

There was moments all the time in baseball, where when you have the ball and have to choose which opposing player gets to make it safe and who you’re going to try to get out. It’s a split second where you feel torn in two, and that was exactly how Frankie felt now.

When he had seen you, flushed and laughing, part of him wanted to give a damn thank you speech to Pope for helping bless the world with that, and the other part of him wanted to murder his best friend.

They had all pushed into the little home and he tried to focus on greeting James and looking at the cozy, dated furniture, the humble decorations, clearly cleaned just for them. There had been a moment, where you’d waved at what felt like just him, and his heart rate had doubled. He tried to talk with the guys, the friend you had invited, or help grill or set the table or … anything, but all he wanted was to find you again.

Staying by your side the other night felt as natural and the ball hitting the palm of his glove, time and time again. It was exactly where he was meant to be.

And you were so lovely he wanted you to press into him so close he absorbed just a fraction of your glow. He wanted to wrap you up and take you with him wherever he went, or maybe just settle into your shadow, to follow you forever. It felt greedy, which he didn’t really mind, but the problem was that it was unrealistic.

You were working hard to be a good host, floating around, making sure everyone was content, helping, handling things, or happily having heaping helpings of your cooking. There was another game on the TV, and James was telling stories, and his friends had made themselves right at home. In a strange way, it felt like a Sunday with his abuelos, and cousins, casual and comfortable. It was telling, of you, fitting, and he liked that, but it was distinctly missing... you.

Santi found him, listening to James, trying not to look over his shoulder for you, hand twitching to find it’s place on you again. They kept their voices low, trying to be respectful, as they caught up on the last few minutes, hours, days. Frankie felt a pang of guilt, wondering if he had been subconsciously avoiding his friend. There was still some more private communicating they had to do… He offered Pope a drive. That would do it.

There was an understanding as the looked at each other, under the music and talk, and clatter of dishes. Will was making James laugh, loud and care-free. The uneasiness settled in his gut – he trusted Santi with his life. He could certainly trust him now, with whatever this was.

Not long after, Frankie found himself being herded through the little house, around tables with glasses and napkins, and back into the little kitchen. There was a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder, and then he was alone with you, for the very first time.

Your eyes were big, staring at him, as you held a pile of dirty dishes.

He wanted to kiss you.

Of course, he didn’t, only cursing himself as he awkwardly offered to help. When you shook your head, your hair fluffed, and with the sunlight through the window, he was having trouble remembering how to function.

Frankie was solid, known for being sturdy and safe. Not like Will was, with his ethics and upbringing like roots into the ground, but that of Atlas, supporting the world on his shoulders.

He was the cornerstone of the team, the background man behind the curtain, with hair and eyes and thighs that Santi swore made women swoon.

And he was doing dishes in the kitchen of your grandfathers house, weak in the knees because you had smiled at him, impressed and grateful. His mind was telling at him to talk to you more, to say something interesting or impressive or to make you laugh when he heard you yelp.

The sound was awful, and adrenaline pumped into his blood as he realized you were hurt. Swinging around he didn’t see you for a moment before registering you had sat down, hard, and were clutching your wrist. There was a thick line, throbbing and an angry red – burnt.

When his knees hit the tile, he didn’t even notice the dull pain. His hands grasped yours as you tried to apologize, explaining the stove was still hot after you had turned it off. Frankie heard you, really he did, but he mind was chanting do something! And stringing Spanish curses, demanding that he protect you, that he fix it.  

He didn’t realize how close he was to you until your eyes found his. it crashed into him the realization that if he leaned forward, tilted his head a bit, and sunk a little lower onto his knees, he could have your mouth against his. 

Panic slowing, he looked at you. You were so sweet and beautiful, collapsed on the kitchen floor with him like the two of you were the only things in the world, and you were trying to tell him you were fine, that it was a silly accident. Frankie felt ridiculous, caught up in his thoughts, and he just... threw aside logic.

Time stopped, and he kissed the burn.

>>

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[putas-in-suffering]

Bonfire Date

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Female Reader/You

Rating: Fluff, SFW

Warnings: language, Angel being an actual pure cinnamon roll

Word Count: 1K

Summary: Angel takes you out on a date. A very special date. ❄️✨

A/N: Here’s Angel trying to court you. And guess what? He does a damn good job. We hope you guys like it! Enjoy and share with your fellow sucias! Feedback is the preferred drug for our addiction and greatly appreciated. 💖💖

(Gif credit to the remarkable @angels-reyes​)

You walked up the dirt driveway of the clubhouse warily, both the outside and inside looking abandoned aside from the raging fire in the pit. Doubt settled into your stomach, making you question just what the hell Angel had you doing out here.

Just as you were about to abandon the night altogether, the man of the hour appeared, arms full of what looked to be various foods. Your nerves eased somewhat as he spotted you and smiled, his excitement making you relax.

“Where is everyone? You said there was a party tonight.” You asked as you met him at one of the picnic tables, the spread laid out for you to take in. There were hot dogs and buns, ketchup, mustard, and various ingredients for s’mores.

“I lied.” Angel replied simply, shrugging his shoulders in nonchalance.

You eyed him, shaking your head as you struggled to catch up to the moment.

“What do you mean? What is all this?” You gestured to the table and the items, trying not to let apprehension overtake you. This was only your third date with Angel. And while the first two had been amazing outings, this one was panning out to be something entirely different.

He’d been wonderfully sweet yet sexy...suave in his courting of you. He had a childlike quality about him that made each experience something to be treasured. He was quickly winning over your heart. So when he invited you to the clubhouse for a party, you thought nothing of it.

Until you showed up and no one was around.

“I set this up for us. Bonfire, beers, hotdogs, and s’mores. Like you told me. That’s what you’d said your perfect date was, right?”

As he spoke, you could feel your heart rate tripling in speed. You stared wide-eyed between him and the food, truly at a loss for words at the grand gesture.

“You remember that?” You asked in awe, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Of course. Wasn’t that long ago.” He said with a scoff, as if it wasn’t a big deal that he’d done all this just for you.

“That was before you asked me out. Like four months ago.” You went on, your mind still wrapping around the situation.

You’d known Angel through mutual friends and it was only recently that he’d taken the step to ask you out. You’d been hesitant at first, but the more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself falling completely head over heels.

“It’s not a big deal. Just thought it’d be nice. You and me.” He shrugged it off, quickly becoming nervous with the amount of emotion you were showing.

You stepped towards him and grabbed the lapels of his kutte, pulling him closer to you. He let you, his hands resting on your hips. This was the closet you’d been to each other. And it felt right.

“This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me, Angel. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He said with a nod, the pads of his fingers tracing circles under the hem of your shirt. “Now let’s eat. I’m fucking starving.”

You laughed, nodding and releasing him so that you could prepare dinner.

Angel was a complicated man. Some moments were highly intimate for him and others he chose to close off. You could feel that right now he was uncomfortable with your praise. And that upset you. He deserved as good as he got. He was special; if only he could believe that.

An hour later the hot dogs were eaten and beers had been consumed. You and Angel huddled close together in two chairs near the bonfire, the night growing increasingly cool. The heat from the fire helped though. And so did Angel’s arm thrown over your shoulder.

He was roasting a marshmallow in the flames, trying hard not to let the sugary confection actually catch fire. You had two halves of a graham cracker and chocolate ready. You observed him closely as he worked to get you the best roasted marshmallow, brows knitted together in concentration.

It was adorable.

After a few minutes, he raised the stick up and out of the fire and presented the marshmallow to you, one side slightly charred.

“Ready?”

You nodded and trapped the gooey substance in between the crackers, seeing the ingredients melt together.

You gave it a moment to cool before you took a bite, strings of white trailing between you and the s’more. You disconnected the mess and moaned at the taste. The treat had been one of your favorites as a kid.

“Good?” Angel said with a chuckle, noticing your obvious approval of the food.

You nodded and then held out the mess for him. “Want some?”

“I’ve never had any.”

“What?” You asked in astonishment, pulling back to see if he was serious.

“Never had it before.”

“Well, then you have to try some. It’s like a campfire rule.” You insisted, once again holding the melting mass out to him. He eyed it for a long moment before hesitantly leaning forward to take a small bite.

You waited as he chewed, his expression looking serious and pensive.

“That’s pretty fucking good.” He finally said, wiping remnants of marshmallow from his lips.

You smiled in relief, thankful that you got to share this moment with him. Your chest tightened and butterflies made their way into your stomach. That nagging idea of leaning over to kiss him swirled in your head, telling you to make the move.

You hadn’t even realized that you had shifted closer. Your lips were dangerously close to touching, Angel not at all bothered by the fact that you suddenly invaded his space. His dark eyes glanced down at your lips and you shivered.

“Tell me to do it, querida.” He whispered, his sweet breath mingling with yours. His large hand rested on your knee, the simple touch making your body heat rise. It was all the encouragement you needed.

“Kiss me, Angel.”

And he did.

He consumed you, tongue reaching out to taste and explore. You let him, opening yourself up to him in welcome. It was an unforgettable date. For many reasons. But the one moment that stood out the most to you was popping Angel’s s’more cherry.

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[floralseokjin]

Sandeul finds out 

⇢ memoirs of a mistake timeline 

[saga index] [drabble index]

kim seokjin x reader // suggestive // 1,308 words 

“Okay. I need to go home,” you sighed, rolling onto your front to reach over the side of his bed for your underwear. He was pretty sure it was there anyway. He’d ripped it off in such a rush, he couldn’t quite remember. “I have to ace this test tomorrow.” 

“Sorry. Did I keep you?” Sat up now, you glanced over at him as you clipped your bra around your back, catching the smug smirk across his face, only to his surprise today you didn’t feel like chewing him out. Maybe it was those three orgasms he’d given you this afternoon... 

“Trust me. I’d rather spend my time doing this.” 

He watched you stand up, wrestling on your jeans, your boobs jiggling about. If he wasn’t so beat he was sure his dick would start stirring again. He was weak when it came to your body – just you in general actually. 

“Oh yeah?” He was only in his boxers, still laying on his bed. 

He caught you checking out his chest but didn’t say anything. Hoody over your head now, your muffled voice told him off. “Don’t get cocky.” And then he could see you again, grinning his way. He liked it when you grinned. You’d been doing it a lot more around him recently, which he took as a good sign. 

“I’ll see you in a couple days? Recovery time, right?” You asked. Ever since you’d began having sex at his place and not his car, the frequency had tripled – if that was possible. You’d rush over as soon as Sanduel wasn’t home, making the most of the free time. (Although, you liked to call it secret time, but whatever.) 

“Sure. Don’t want him to drop off.” He looked down at his crotch as he spoke. 

Even though he couldn’t see you, he just knew you’d rolled your eyes. “No third person.” It weirded you out but he just found it hilarious. “Sorry,” he apologised quickly. He didn’t want to push his luck. Oddly enough, he thought you two had some sort of friendship developing right now…

He watched you shove your sneakers on and stood up, finding his sweatpants hanging off the bed where he’d yanked them off in a bid to get inside you as quick as possible. “Hey. I’ll walk you out.” 

You turned to look at him, your eyebrows slightly raised in shock. “You don’t have to.” 

Rolling his eyes, he chuckled. “Well, I’m not going to let you see yourself out, am I?” 

Your face lit up as you laughed along and he felt a twang inside his ribcage. He hoped he wasn’t getting heart burn… “Oh, gentleman. Bang me and then bid me goodnight at the doorstep.” 

He carried on chuckling, not bothering to put on a shirt as he walked towards the door.  “Don’t forget dine you too.” Cup ramen and sandwiches went down a treat. 

Walking out of his room and across the short distance of the hallway that opened up into the living room, you following closely behind, the colour from his face drained when he spotted his best friend stood awkwardly between the sofa and the chair. Oh, fuck.

“Hey,” Sanduel greeted, eyes wide when he saw you pop out from behind Seokjin’s back. He felt you freeze, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. He was a mass of panic and dread. You hadn’t wanted anyone to know, you’d been very clear on that, and now look… you’d been caught red handed.  

“Sandeul,” he said, voice painfully tight. 

“Hey,” his friend repeated. The air was suddenly stuffy. Seokjin had a horrible feeling the tips of his ears were red. 

“Hi.” He heard you say – to his surprise. 

To Sandeul’s surprise too. His eyes jumped to your figure and he forced himself to smile. “Hi.” 

Seokjin wanted the ground to swallow him whole everything was so awkward. He felt you turn to look at him. “I’m just, uh, gonna go.” 

He forced himself to look at you finally, nodding his head way too hastily. “Yeah, uh…” 

“See you,” you rushed, and off you went, nodding in Sandeul’s direction awkwardly as you passed him. 

“Yup. See you.” The click of the front door as you shut it echoed inside Seokjin’s head, and then his best friend was ogling him – wanting answers. 

“I’m very confused.” 

“Fuck sake,” Jin groaned, running his hand through his hair. This wasn’t good. 

“That wasn’t real,” Sandeul shook his head. “None of this is real.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Suddenly, he was on the defensive. 

“Just how?” Sandeul was baffled. “I imagine she wasn’t in there to help you study considering you don’t share any classes together.” 

“No, you’re wrong. We had to study the anatomy of the naked body,” he smirked. 

“Fucking hell, dude,” Sandeul exclaimed. “She is so out of your league.”  

“Is not.” Now he was really offended. “We’re on par.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Jin.” 

“Hey man, don’t be a dick.” 

His best friend laughed. “I’m not. See?” He paused to clap. “I applaud you. But she did kinda run off when she saw me.” 

“She had to go,” Seokjin mumbled. “just don’t tell anyone about this, okay? We want to keep it quiet.” He sounded obviously desperate. 

“We?” 

“Yeah, we. It’s a thing we have going on.” He shrugged. “It’s going really well.” 

“Huh? You’re together?!” Sandeul’s volume emphasised his shock. 

“No!” How had he jumped to that conclusion? “We’re just hooking up. A lot.” 

Sandeul used his hands to mimic his brain exploding. “Mind. Blown.” 

“Remember, don’t tell anyone.” His eyes were wide. Maybe you wouldn’t mind if only Sandeul knew? The sex was so good, you couldn’t just end things because one person knew about it… Right? He was sure he could convince you it was all okay, because well, it was okay. 

“As if anyone would believe me anyway,” Sandeul laughed. “You’re secret’s safe with me. She seemed to be very into you, so who am I to judge?” 

Seokjin felt his cheeks heat up at his best friend’s insinuation, despite feeling smug about it… Yes, he’d heard you both have sex, which was sort of weird, but it was good to get confirmation that you were into him… 

Walking back into his room, he picked up his phone to call you immediately, only to see you’d already tried the same. 

1 Missed Call (6 minutes ago)

He sighed to himself and hit redial, psyching himself up. He couldn’t let you end things. You just about had enough time to say his name before he was rushing in. “Hey. Before you say anything, Sandeul is keeping it a secret, okay?”

There was silence on the other end. After a moment, you spoke. “Are you sure? How do you know?” You didn’t sound mad, just hesitant. 

“I asked him to.” 

He didn’t like the sound of your small, unsure sigh. “Seokjin, I don’t know about this –”

“He’s my best friend, I trust him.”

Another silence, plus a heavy breath. “Fine.” 

“Really?” He couldn’t hide the shock from his voice. 

“Yeah.” 

He was a little lost for words, not expecting that to have been so easy. He’d been so sure you’d want to stop hooking up… “So, we’re okay?”

“Yes, we’re okay,” you chuckled. “I don’t know him, but I know you and I trust you, so…” 

“You trust me?” Now he sounded smug. 

“Don’t make me regret it.” 

“I won’t.” It was time to behave again. 

He heard you groan. “How long do you think he was there for?” 

He chuckled lightly. “I don’t know but I’m pretty sure he heard us…”

“Noo,” you groaned louder. “I can’t come to your place again.” 

“Hold up, you have too.” He insisted with a whine. “I can’t go back to fucking in that car again. Please.” 

Written 2021.   Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

[softlyjiminie]

black swan | one

⇢ pairing(s): professional dancer!park jimin x figure skater!reader.

⇢ word count: 4.8K.

⇢ rating: 16+, mature.

⇢ genre: angst, eventual smut, fluff, e2l, fake dating!au, corrupted idol!au, dancer!au, figure skater!au.

⇢ summary: a life of skating was all you’d ever known, your heart craving the feeling of ice beneath your feet and the light brush of cool air against your skin under thousands of sparkling lights... what a shame, if only you’d known that one night, one accident could rip you from the life you’d grown to love, leaving your career in the unsteady hands of the prince of ballet, park jimin.

⇢ warning(s): please read for this chapter! angst, just a lot of vmon fluff, sports injury and mentions of blood!

⇢ author’s note(s): eeeep here it is everyone!! the first chapter of my new series!! ive worked super hard on this so im nervous and excited to share :( i hope you guys love it! feedback is greatly appreciated <3

⇢ series masterlist | next

alive.

if there was one word that you would use to describe this feeling, it would be alive. from the second the toepick of your skate touched the ice, your body would always come to light, energy surging through your veins as you drifted across the smooth surface of the rink. you belonged here, you were born here. this was was where you felt at home.

although the space was littered with other skaters, you believe yourself to be alone— the music of your heavily practiced routine filling your mind while you ready your position...head down, arm outstretched and fingertips pointed. rolling your shoulders, you clutch your hand to your chest as the chords of your original soundtrack blast through your thoughts, with a half turn you bend at the back, catching your skate while you twist your body into a layback spin— holding your skate to your head. “catch foot,” you whisper, following the notes of the song— butterfly. it was a short contemporary piece composed by your trainer which you had insisted on using for this competition. as the music flows, you release your grip on your skate and allow it to hit the ice, holding your arms out in a poised manner.

gliding across the ice, you dive into your next movement— the cantilever— bending at the knee and leaning backwards, skates out-turned. you know that move after would require the support from your partner, so you skip it in favour of saving it for the eyes of the judges. hydroblades were always a signature between he and yourself. the song hits a climax in your head, piano notes wafting through lost memories, tangled with practices of routines and you tumble effortlessly into the remaining steps like a flowing waterfall that never stops— the triple axel is the jump that comes after, a difficult manoeuvre through the air...but well known in the skating community as only a few have landed it in contest. skating forward, you put your power into the jump, leaping forward with only two and half rotations, saving the third for the competition and breathing a sigh of relief when you land backwards— just as planned. you move with the grace of a pure white swan, silently slipping into every move, spin and jump as you focus on only the sounds of your blade against the ice.

completing another full turn, you head straight into a sit spin— curling in on yourself as your body lowers to the cool surface of the ice. during a spin, you fyour blades dig into the ice as you come to a halt, exposing yourself to the world once again. breathing laboured from exertion, you outstretch your arms once more and imagine the final chords of your musical piece, ending your routine.

your attention is captured by a round of applause to your left, making you whip your head in search for the sound. a sweet grin graced your lips as you recognise the two men clapping away, causing you to skate over and rest your palms on the boarders of the rink.

“taehyungie,” you sing, leaning over the barriers to ruffle at the thick mass of unruly black locks that curl just above his eyes. the boy only laughs as he grabs your wrist and pulls you in for an awkward hug. his body is warmer compared to the ice, bringing you a sense of homely comfort that you recognise as familiar. “i missed you at practice just now,”

taehyung himself rolls his eyes making it his turn to ruffle your hair. “oh please, you hardly need me! you make a two man routine look good on its own!” he rambles excitedly, body leering over the barrier as if the ice is calling him. taehyung’s dark eyes flitter up to meet yours, an amused chuckle emulating from his lips at your jokingly unimpressed expression. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d think you were a solo skater—“

you huff, letting the corners of your lips twitch up into a small smile. “you know that i couldn’t ever do this without you, tae— i need you on the ice with me.” you poke at his cheek affectionately, your body lighting up as you spot namjoon, both yours and taehyung’s coach behind the latter. your skating partner catches the change in your expression, turning around to greet namjoon with a warm hug and kiss to the cheek.

yourself, taehyung and namjoon had known each other for as long as you could remember. you’d met taehyung at your very first skating lesson, in a beginners class when his hair was wild and untamed, a little boy with missing teeth and big bright eyes. as a little girl, you’d thought he’d gotten lost on his way to an ice hockey practice. at the time, namjoon’s father ran the skating company you started under— leaving his son in charge of the beginners class.

the three of you had grown up together; taehyung was your first kiss— promptly realising he wasn’t into girls right after you’d stolen a smooch on the swing set in your backyard after a practice (“yeah...YN, i’m gay.”). and even in high school, the two of you stalking namjoon around hallways as you teased a blushing taehyung about is growing crush on the lankier male. you cradled you’re jubilant friend as he cried when namjoon left for college, his light dimming a bit but you remembered crying harder when the three of you were united four years and a plethora of competitions, medals and skates later.

“well if it isn’t my favourite pair of skaters,” namjoon greets, tucking his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket that proudly shows off the logo of your skating company. “practicing again, YN?”

you see the amusement dancing in your coach’s eyes, he wouldn’t have put it past you to see you on the ice so early in the morning. you’d never relented with your skating, having pushed yourself to win two olympic medals by the time you were nineteen. you were an image of perfection in the skating world, not a scandal or downfall in your entire career— most would find such an achievement quite daunting— losing friends was made easy because of it... but you knew that you had taehyung and namjoon and the love of your family and company, you knew that with that you could achieve anything. “i have to, if i want to be better than taehyung...” you tease and tug on said male’s sleeve. “help me get him on the ice?”

namjoon presses a kiss into the depths of taehyung’s deep ocean locks, sending him off with a whisper that makes him run off to grab his skates before the elder approaches you. “little ice princess, i think i have a gift for you...” namjoon sings sweetly, pulling his phone from his back pocket as you lean over the barrier excitedly.

“you think?”

“i know.”

the elder holds out his device for you to see, the screen lighting up as an unfamiliar caller ID flashes across it. you raise your eyes hesitantly while your coach nods, smile reaching his eyes as you answer the call. a group of beaming faces decorate the screen and your own eyes dance across each and every one of them, recognising them as the boys and girls of moonchild skating company.

“YN!” the skaters cheer, waving excitedly amongst a sea of claps and giggles. “good, luck!”

“thanks you guys,” you whisper sweetly, sparing an appreciative glance at namjoon, you blow kisses to all of your fellow skaters thankfully. you note some of them to be from different ranks in your company; from beginners to juniors and some from different areas of competition— although your heart jumps slightly at the sight of one in particular. “jungkookie...”

“noona!” the boy cheers, scrunching his nose excitedly at the mention of his name. your heart melts as he looks to you with sparkling doe eyes, the younger boy having a special place in your heart— he came to the company bright eyed and shy, there had been a lot of doubt about jungkook’s abilities on the ice because of that. but as soon as he stepped foot on the rink, everyone’s worries drifted away— each of his movements were silken and seamless easily making him one of the best solo skaters in the senior rank, although he was slightly younger than you. you remember catching him after practice one day— he had yet to decide if he wanted to sign up with namjoon and he’d only  stayed behind to watch you run through your routine with taehyung. the bumbling boy couldn’t help but blush when he’d been caught with yourself and your partner yearning for him to join. he did so in the end... because of you, because you had inspired him to pick up skating after you won your first gold medal. it just so happened that little jungkookie was a fast learner. “did you like the surprise? i thought it would help with your nerves— i know you get butterflies in your tummy before you perform! so do i! especially when i see you— uh! i mean!”

jungkook’s ears burn as bright as his cherry red hair, the shade only feeling as your melodious chuckle wafts through the phone’s speakers. “i loved it kookie, thank you.” you hum, batting your lashes at him, despite the presence of the other skaters on the call. you knew he had a soft spot for you, it was hard to miss his longing gazes and the tightening of his jaw when tae put his hand on your waist for lifts. it was sweet. “good luck to you in your regionals as well, you’ll do great... okay?” you’re quick to remind him, as you note taehyung returning from the locker room.

“t-thank you noona! we love you!”

the skaters give you one last cheer and round of applause as taehyung slips into view with a boxed grin and sweet wave. namjoon ends the call, ruffling his lover’s mop of hair before ushering the two of you onto the ice, ready to run through your routine one last time.

putting together the perfect routine, is like making the perfect breakfast. the eggs you begin with, a sweet yolk dancing on your tongue like the starting moves that give the judges a taste of what you’re capable of. next were the pancakes, drenched in syrup— like light movements through the air, packing a punch with the saucy moves between yourself and your partner to show off your finesse and finally, there was the—

“orange juice.” taehyung’s timbre voice cut through your thoughts like a knife as he place a glass of freshly squeezed juice in front of you whilst disrupting your  mentally mapped out routine. blinking rapidly under his stares, your gaze switched from the piles of food he’d set on your plate, to the amused but scolding glare he’d spared you. “drink it, it’ll keep your sugar and energy up for today.”

“thanks taetae...”

you nod gratefully, leaning forward and taking a gulp of the bitter yellow liquid as if it’ll wash away the nerves beginning to bubble in the pits of your stomach. nonetheless, the skater beams brightly at you before he scoffs down a mouthful of his towering breakfast— as he always did before such events. you, however, couldn’t bare to eat— not with the devious stares of the other female figure skaters who eyed your plates. you knew it was a tactic to throw you off guard, the canteen of the hotel was much like a high school back in the day, with cliques and squads all out to get each other. it was always like this before major skating competition but your mind is too busy being filled with anticipation of getting on the ice and showing off once more.

namjoon appears after taehyung has eaten more than half his plate— resulting in him stealing bits and pieces from your own. “don’t look so nervous, YN,” the elder chides from over his steaming cup of coffee, hand running through his dishevelled purple and blonde streaked locks. “you’ll do great, both of you will.” your coach spares a knowing glance to taehyung, who blushes through munching the rest of your pancakes and so; you can tell by the light bruises on the neck that he and taehyung had a rough encounter in the night before.  

joon was never allowed to mark taehyung above the waist, because the younger loved to wear costumes that glittered and showed off his open chest. you knew from experience that the marks would be below the waist where no one could see— like their own little good luck ritual. glee consumes your skating partner as namjoon nuzzles his nose into his dark hair, the distraction letting you slip under the surface of worry once more.

‘no, you’ve got this.’ you think, flickering your gaze anywhere but your plate in order to clam the race horse of thoughts in your mind. you finally settle on staring at the news report playing on the small digital TV hanging in the right hand corner of the cafeteria. park jimin, arrested for speeding. the report flashes across the screen, images of bright blonde hair and dark eyes hidden by thick black shades passing by with faint sounds of camera clicks.

you shake your head, grateful to never had experienced trouble like that. sure, you’d dealt with reporters and trash paparazzi but, joon and tae— they’d always gotten you through it. it was just nice to not be alone like him...

park jimin.

taehyung had a mind of brilliance.

you sit in the stylist chair, hair slicked back and curled away from your eyes— the momentum of free hair would have disrupted your skating or thrown you off balance, but god was kim taehyung a miracle worker. he always knew how he wanted you both to look for performances, the makeup artists bidding to his every need. you could even find him helping out with the beginners class performances— adding glitter to baby cheeks and braiding youthful hair.

today, your friend had decided the look you would go for; would be faded baby blue shadow dancing across your lids and blending softly with cloudy whites and silver sparkles. your liner was sharp, winged enough to cut the diamond edge of the gemstones that were dotted at the corner of your eye— taehyung was smart, co-ordinating your makeup look with the pretty silver dress namjoon had scouted out just for you.

the article of clothing itself, is backless with long sleeves that form tear drops at your pointer finger as they fade from silver to a cool grey, much like the skirt of your dress. smaller gemstones and pearls align at your waist and chest, that glistened under the cheap light when namjoon had first revealed the outfit to you. you had cried when you thumbed the flowing layered skirt, thanking your boys endlessly for the beautiful dress but taehyung had only giggled — knowing that it matched his silver to white shirt, tight fitting and glittering with layered sleeves (which he loved so much).

now, you laced up your skates— nerves peaking once more. the white leather sat comfortably against your heal, having broken in the skates amiss your training. you knew that the current pair were already on the ice, eliciting cheers from the crowd so you forced your jitters into lacing up and securing your skates. a double not would suffice.

“you’re both going to do amazing, remember whatever happens out there... i’m proud of you.” your coach reminds with one last dimpled smile before you’re due on the ice. taehyung pecks both of your cheeks and leads you away from your team of staff— who clap excitedly for you while your names are announced.

squeezing his hand, you slide smoothly onto the ice with taehying and close your eyes, breathing in the sharp scent of coolness and fresh air and taking in the squeals of your names. “you look great,” your partner comments easily, smirking as you circle each other on the rink. you open your eyes, noting the white-ish glow the ice gives to taehyung’s honey skin and grin. “we’ve got this.”

“we always do,” you nod back in affirmation, confidence flaring as the announcement finishes (you had always felt more at home on the ice, and tae knew once you were out there, your worries would melt away with the music). you push yourself into position with tae, your foreheads pressed against once another’s, so close that you can feel his warm breath fanning across your face. it’s all for the dramatics but you know that the crowd loves your chemistry. piano chords drift through the air, signalling the start of your routine, your hands roam across taehyung’s body like you’d practiced countless times. when the beat picks up, taehyung twists you in his arms, fingertips reaching just above your head while your own hands follow his to link them.

you begin to pick up momentum, skating with each other in arm as the first verse picks, with hands on your waist, taehyung picks you up gently, holding you off the ice for just a second as he skates into a half spin before placing you down. resuming your movements across the rink, you separate and tumble into your next move— they lay back spin. the pair of you synchronise your moves, holding your skates to your head as you twirl into the lyrics of the song.

‘is it true? is it true?’ the lyrics reverberate in your mind, body following taehyung’s lead into the next steps. his fingertips are  light on your arms to keep them poised, both of you extending your right legs as you glide across the ice. ‘you, you, you...’ your partner lifts you once more into his arms, pushing you into the air for you to fall gracefully into a double salchow— taking off with the back inside edge of your right skate and landing on the outside of the opposite skate. the crowd bursts into applause, making you grin subtly at your partner before interlocking your fingers once more for a partnered arabesque spirals.

your hand grips taehyung’s firmly, letting your bodies move naturally with the music as you hold your legs in outstretched positions. the chorus bursts through the arena as the air below your arms blows away any worries, you fall back into taehyung’s arms once more for a lift above his head— your legs stretched out into a galloping motion before he swiftly prompts you into a death spiral, holding onto your arm as he twirls your body lower towards the ice.

when the chorus ends, you’re back to skating side by side, wowing the crowd with your movements— like namjoon said you would. completing a paired sit spin, movements mirrored perfectly, a feeling of dread feels your stomach. the ice changes beneath your skates— rougher on this side of the rink than others which sends ripples of worry through your veins at what is to come next. a triple axel jump, they were difficult to land and yet a specialty of yourself and your partners. you knew in your heart that if you landed this jump, the competition was yours but the buzzing feeling in your mind knew that something was wrong. to others, the ice carried you gracefully across the rink, but you knew something was out of place. catching taehyung’s eye, it’s as if he feels it too, but you can’t miss he jump... not when it could cost you the chance of a win.

putting your trust into taehyung, the man you’ve known for years— you curl into his chest as his strong hands support you into propelling you into the triple axel jump but to your dismay, the ice catches beneath his toe pick, taehyung misses a fraction of a beat as he forces you into the air. fear spikes in your chest— you weren’t ready, not to land, not for the jump, not for the music to push through with a climax.

and certainly not for the crunch of your bones.

excited cheers die down to fearful gasps and screams of horror, while taehyung picks himself up from the fall. the world is too loud, the lights are too bright and paramedics rush past him as he shakes himself off. wait, paramedics. pupils blown wide the skater rushes to his feet, pushing past men in orange suits with medical kits strewn about— he hears the faint call of namjoon from over the barrier and the announcers up ahead but his focus is on you.

the loudness fades and a ringing sensation builds up behind your ears— the world is black and you can only catch momentary flashes of taehyung’s worried face above your own. you’re confused, you can’t hear him as he mumbles through his sudden onslaught of tears. you cringe as they drip onto your face, an urge to wipe away the wetness taking over you— but when your fingers are brought back to your eyes, you notice the colour of crimson decorating your finger tips.

a muffled cry leaves your small frame as pain shoots through your leg, you can’t find the source but suddenly reality comes rushing back. you can hear the rushed voices of paramedics as they shuffle you onto a gurney, you can feel the stickiness of blood from somewhere on your head trickle down your back— soiling the pretty dress namjoon worked so hard to find, the throbbing pain in your left leg becoming too much to bare as you cry out for anyone, anything.

it hurts, god it hurts.  

“stay with me, YN, keep th-those eyes open for me? okay baby?” you hear as your vision sways, but the voice is familiar— timbre and warm just like taehyung’s. his cool hands cup your face, brushing through your hair as he limps off the rink with your gurney. “p-please stay awake? baby please...” you know that he’s crying and you know that you’re crying too, but you’re too tired, to sleepy to comply with his wishes. the world is still dark, briefly brightening when you see namjoon from the corner of your eye. he’s gone again and the buzzing world is replaced with the scent of disinfectant and hand sanitizer. there’s arguing, yelling but you can’t see from behind closed eyes.

“she needs surgery!”

“what she needs, is us!”

when you come to, one last time you lock eyes with taehyung’s trusting brown ones, watering on the edge of tears. “i won’t leave you, i promise.”

and with that, you slip away again.

there were certain sounds you liked to hear. like the sound of your skate cutting into thick ice when you landed a jump, taehyung’s sweet singing after a long day of practice or the old romcoms you had playing in your hotel room after a day of competing.

the incessant beeping filling your senses was not a sound you liked.

“it’s my fault, joon. you should have seen her face... it’s like she knew and she trusted me to—“ taehyung cuts through the beeping with a voice filled with worry, his jubilant demeanour having been lost somewhere. your head begins to pound as you remember his skittish sobs, but the memories are blurred still.

namjoon’s voice enters next, interrupting the shaking voice of his boyfriend. “it’s not your fault, how could you have known she’d fall like that? you tripped taehyung, something wasn’t right.”

“but she felt it, we both did—“

“then i’ll take it up with the board, we’ll sue, we’ll— we’ll figure out what happened.” your coach reasoned with his lover, a silence sweeping over the room. you yearned for the comfort you felt eminate between them but when you lift your arm, you realise you’re unable to move— the wires and plugs and breathing machines keeping you strapped to the bed. panic rises in your chest, blocking your air as you struggle to breathe—  taehyung is the first to rush to your side, lifting your mask and cradling you into his chest as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

namjoon is on your other side, rubbing a large palm up and down your back and out instantly feel comforted by their presence. hot tears roll down your cheeks, burning in your oesophagus as you claw at the base of your throat.

“shhh, little princess it’s okay— we’ve got you.”

a cup of water is brought to your lips which you quickly gulp down, the cool liquid soothing the ache in your throat. blinking, you cling tightly to taehyung’s cable knit sweater— hesitant to speak due to your unused voice. “wh-what happened?” you manage, unsure if your whispers can be heard above the pounding of your heart. “where...where are we?”

“you were in an accident,” namjoon spoke lowly from above you, taehyung instantly squeezing you closer as memories of the incident flashed behind both of your eyes. a low whimper left your childhood friend’s lips at your wince— squeezing you again as if he could drain your pain away. your coach swears he feels his heart break at the two of you hurting, pressing the buzzer for the nurse as tae cradles you and sliding onto your hospital bed to wrap his larger arms around you both. “something went wrong with the ice and, you fell—“

your fingers curl tighter in your friend’s clothes, as you remember the pain shooting up your leg and burning in the back of your skull. taehyung avoids your eyes this time, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “they checked you for a concussion and your leg...” his baritone voice an octave, a cool quiet seeping into the room. “your leg is broken, but with one more surgery and some physical therapy— you’ll be back on the ice in no time!”

your heart plummets in your chest, you knew what injuries like that did to figure skaters. sure you were young, you had time to recover but even the slightest pause in doing so could cost you your entire life, your career. the pair of lovers that surround you share a grim look, knowing the thoughts that are rushing through your mind.

“we have the best doctors for you, YN, with a few months—“

you blink up at tae with fiery eyes filled with tears, resisting the urge to shove him away. “i don’t have a few months, tae! training for the olympics is what i should be doing!” you hiccup, starting to choke on tears you refuse to let shed. “i need to be out there on that ice, or i’m useless, i need to—“

you make movements to step out of bed, sucking in your lower lip as a dull ache rests in your bones. the pair are quick to pull you back into bed, but your hands scold them with slaps as you push them away. you have no right to be angry at them, but you know that they understand. taehyung seems to be calmer now, despite the hurt that tickles his puppy dog features at your resistance, he does his best to comfort you.

but a prominent scowl yearns for the curve of namjoon’s lips, your coach falling deep in thought.

“you’re suspended from skating.”

“wh-what?” you stammer, eyes burning with a fresh set of tears for the third or fourth time that night. this time, your partner stands, looking to his lover in confusion and standing with his hands resting on your shoulders comfortingly.

he speaks hesitantly. “now joon...”

“no, taehyung,” your coach sighs, remaining stern. it kills him to make this choice, but there’s no other way— at least not for now. “LN YN will be suspended from all physical skating activities until she has made a full recovery with a hired physical therapist...” the words pierce straight into your heart, tearing you apart from the inside. you want to scream and cry and kick and protest but you’re too numbed from pain and betrayal to speak or move. “legal action will be taken up with the board responsible for the competition but until then, you will not touch the ice. understand?”

you blink, numb.

“YN, i said, do you understand?” namjoon repeats, steeling his gaze. he hates this, he hates hurting both you and his love.

you nod once, looking away whilst tae rubs circles into your shoulders. his lover mentions something about a coffee before slipping out of the room... and that’s when you breakdown. you cry, heavy ugly tears with a running nose that you’re sure stains your best friends sweater as he rocks you back and forth into the night.

you cry until your spark is dull, you cry until your chest burns and until your eyes are dry. you cry because you’ve lost your purpose in life.

⇢ taglist ! ( comment, like or dm to be added! )

@periminkle​  @ggukkieland​   @aishots​ @ownthesunshine​ @codeinebelle​ @taeass​ @trviahope @singular-itae @preciouschimine @yoongismykink @idiakh @honeyspillings @kimsdior @chimshoe @cypherft-v @tangledsparkles

[schmokschmok]

star dust imprints on her waiting skin

I'm really happy to finally share the pinch hit I wrote for @avatar-rarepair-exchange-2021 for @loopy777, I had so much fun writing this!

Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender

Relationship: Azula x Yue

Characters: Azula, Yue, Zuko

Wordcount: 5100 (17 Triple Drabble)

Tags:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Arranged Marriage

POV Second Person

Summary:

This is the stranger you’re supposed to marry. The princess presented to your father as your equal. The girl you have never seen before.

aka: The politically motivated engagement of Yue and Azula that soft-boils Azula's heart over the course of several years. (5 facts disguised as secrets that Yue shares with Azula, + 1 secret disguised as fact that Azula keeps for herself.)

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29186226

Translation into German available: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29231442

CN: Food, Toxic Relationships (Azula and her father)

#1

You straighten your back before your father can reprimand your posture. Your pointy shoecaps point towards the door, and you clasp your hands behind your back to keep you from fiddling. They dressed you in your finest garbs, pulled your hair back into a perfect knot. It was your mother who crowned you princess with a sharp needle and golden hair ornaments. The incarnation of royal poise confined in the flesh and bone of your nine-year-old body.

They talk about contracts, safeguard, and tributes. They talk about localities and modalities, about peoples and connections. They talk about alliances, coalescences, and loyalty. – What they’re not talking about is you.

Zuko and you are stood unmoving behind your parents and their advisors, feet aching and fingers twitching for safe ground. He doesn’t reach for your hand, and you don’t reach for his, but you wished he were closer to you every time your eyes fall upon the white-haired girl on the other side of the negotiating table who doesn’t lift her head a single time to meet your gaze. You just want an allied soul in this room that can soothe the fire in your veins that flares up again and again and again as you examine the straight line of her shoulders; as your gaze falls upon the blue of her clothes and the brown of her boots; as her name is dropped as little as yours.

You can’t do anything other than look at her. Not only because she’s in your direct line of vision but also because you hope you can read your future in her clasped hands, star dust imprints on her waiting skin.

This is the stranger you are to marry. The princess presented to your father as your equal. The girl you have never seen before.

  #2

Your father beckons you to step forward. You’re supposed to bow and not say a word because everything has already been said without you. But perchance you’re able to catch a genuine glimpse of her face. The face of the girl who steps up in all her graceful serenity, fingers wound around an object in front of her body so firmly you can’t even see it up close.

Now she stands right before you and you can see the allusion of a smile on her lips; that small and invisible that no one but you may notice; a conspiratorial smile just for you, a secret between you that no one else is privy to. – You don’t want her intimacy, her conspiracy, but yet you answer by swallowing down the anger and helplessness that spreads through your veins. All that remains is the embers beneath your midriff.

In the hollow of her hands lie a dark ribbon and a blue, cut stone. She bows her head, avoiding your gaze and stretching out her hands, she’s offering you a necklace, and you don’t know if it would be justified to reach for it, so you reach for her hands instead and bring them to your neck, although everything in you rebels against the thought of strange hands on your vulnerable throat. But when her touch, as she puts the necklace on your neck, is feather-light you seek her gaze in surprise. You can’t find it. She doesn’t stop not looking at you. And as she lets go of the necklace and takes a step back, the weight of the stone brings down the weight of her gift onto your shoulders.

You’ll be married once you’re sixteen, and although your entire life so far is ahead of you, it feels like the end.

  #3

In the evening you put the chain on your bedside table, in the morning on your neck, at night it disperses the light of the moon and at noon your will.

Zuko says he’s your father’s heir and that there is no place for you anymore. Zuko says the only place for you is in the midst of ice and snow. Zuko says they’re going to send you away because you’re not getting married, you’re being married off. You, however, know he’s wrong. You know your father would never allow them to send you away. You know your place is on the throne of the Fire Lord and nowhere else.

Ty Lee says it’s so very romantic that you can carry around your fiancée’s promise every day for everyone to see. Ty Lee says it’s so very sensible that the stone was cut just for you, by hands that tried to create the perfect gift for you. Ty Lee says you’re so very lucky that you know what awaits you in your future. You, however, know she’s misguided. You know the stone is your brand mark. You know everyone should be able to see who you really belong to, that you don’t belong here anymore, like Zuko said.

Your mother says it’s alright to be sad. Your mother says you can cry whenever you feel the urge. Your mother says she understands how you feel because she had been in your situation herself before she married Ozai but she’s so very happy now with Zuko and you. You, however, know she’s lying. You know she’s the one who told your father to accept the plea of the Northern Water Tribe. You know she’s the one who doesn’t want you to be here, and that Zuko will end up being right.

  #4

They have kuspuk and parka and mukluks ready for you. Thick and lined und far too much too blue. In the clandestineness of your room, you slip into the heavy fabric and you don’t recognise yourself underneath all that winter. Your own eyes stare back out of the mirror but the rest of you that you can see belongs to the fiancée of the princess of the Northern Water Tribe.

Most of the time you’re able to forget what is awaiting you, the heavy necklace an everyday weight, but in moments like this the weight of the world rests on your shoulders. The day you must leave for good is approaching and no amount of hoping and pleading and begging will keep them from sending you away.

“You look like one of them,” Zuko says and in your haste to turn around you trip over the mukluks behind you. Arms crossed in front of his body and head tilted, he watches you struggling with your balance.

He’s about to turn away as if he has been only waiting for a chance to taunt you and disappear, coming away full-handed, but then he pauses and his wandering eye studies your room until it finds its way back to you. Maybe he views the hard line of your mouth as victory, maybe the fur-trimmed hood as triumph. Maybe he wants to bask once more in the realisation that it is you who was wrong; that your mother has achieved all her goals. You must go and Zuko is going to ascend the throne.

Before he finally turns to go, his gaze softens only for a moment, you almost don’t recognise him, and he says: “Blue suits you.” And suddenly, you’re alone again, drowning in a parka made for someone bigger than you.

  #5

The seasons pass you by, in reality, however, it is you passing by the landscapes. It doesn’t comfort you, the steady progress of the royal sloop, the constant trampling of the Komodo rhinos, the never-ending roar of the sea you can always hear, feet on board or land. The cold air an incessant memory that you have left the Fire Nation and its heat behind. Proof that it doesn’t matter that you’ve spent your entire life being better and best; that it’s worthless, the word of your father to whom you’ve given all your loyalty; it doesn’t make a difference that you would become heir to the throne if Zuko would misstep because you’ve already gone too far. You’ve reached the outskirts of the Northern Water Tribe and the masses of snow and ice are shining towards you.

From now on, this is to be your home, the place you’re going to live, the realm where you’re merely the consort of the regent. You are made for greater things but Zuko is the one who will end up on the throne because your mother’s care has ensured that you will never attain what you’ve fought for.

It is the first time in your life you will not get what you want; the first time you will have to submit to a decision made against your will; the first time it looks like you will just have to resign yourself to your fate. And your fate is to live out your existence at the North Pole while the cold drives the fire out of your veins.

But the reality is actually this: Your mother is no more and Zuko is gone, but they still didn’t call you back, all three of you were mistaken. You, however, don’t know anything about it.

  #6

You miss Mai, Ty Lee and your afternoons in the palace garden. You miss trainings fights and talking behind closed doors about the things Ty Lee and May can’t confide in anybody else. You miss the warm feeling of gratification that spread through the pit of your stomach whenever Mai asked in a low voice: “Don’t tell anyone, Azula, not even Ty Lee.” You miss the intoxicating feeling of sprinkling barely decipherable hints of all their secrets into conversations, always bordering on revelation. You miss the feeling of being needed, of being in control, of not being alone.

At the North Pole, you’re lonely, an oil lamp amidst arctic wind.

Sometimes you’re lonely together with Yue. Lonely because she doesn’t belong to you but to the Northern Water Tribe; expressions of loyalty would be nothing but hollow phrases. Together because sometimes she looks at you as if wants to whisper soft words meant only for your ears. But most of the time she blinks decidedly and averts her gaze from you as if she had just noticed who’s sitting in front of her. (That you’re sitting in front of her.)

(Sometimes you wonder what Yue could confide in you. You wonder what secrets lie dormant in a person like Princess Yue; what feelings and thoughts, that she wouldn’t share with anyone else, are hidden behind her superficially polite words; what vulnerabilities are buried beneath her introspective smile and kind eyes. You wonder how far you would have to dig to reveal what is hidden inside her. But most of the time you are preoccupied dealing with the anger that is constantly threatening to burn its way out of you that you can’t concentrate on anything but breathing in and breathing out and breathing away all the need for rash action.

  #7

The first secret she confides in you isn’t really a secret, it’s a “this one is my room, don’t hesitate to knock if you need anything, doesn’t matter the time of day” and an imploring “no matter when” as you walk past Yue’s door. But it feels like a secret, in this residence where every ice pillar looks the same and where, on some days, you can barely find your own room (which is not far from hers).

You try to think as little as possible about the fact that you now know the place where she is most vulnerable, because there can only be one reason why Yue has taken this step towards you: She is trying to gain a strategic advantage by laying the groundwork to be able to extract information from you without you seeing through her game. It doesn’t matter that you find yourself at her door on bad days, hand only moments away from knocking, because the thing is: Yue is not the only one capable of coming up with a game plan – a battle plan, really – and you’re tired of waiting for the situation to change on its own; tired of waiting for your father to finally bring you back home; tired of being passive and deedless and waiting. You want to finally take action, and maybe the only way to achieve that goal is to beat Yue at her own game; even if that means taking different paths than you’re used to go. (You know what your father would ask of you to win Azulon over. And how difficult could it be to conquer a princess that has already laid claim to you far too long ago? You can be perfect for her, you think, doesn’t take too much effort. A cinch, really.)

  #8

“I’ve never been interested in card games,” you say in way of greeting, your shoulder leaning against the doorframe and the offer of peace in your voice. Yue winces, visibly taken off-guard by your appearance. “My strength has always been more in Hide and Explode and the shell game.”

For a moment, her fingers fiddle with the Water Four she was about to place on the second pile from the left. Then she places the card next to the board and indicates for you to enter.

Your shoes almost slip on the ice, but you carry it off well that the floor catches you unprepared in unsuspecting moments and throws you off balance.

As you sit with her on the carpet in front of her bed, she says: “Usually, I play Pai Sho.” For a moment you’re reminded of Uncle Iroh, whom you have seen playing Pai Sho so many times but who never offered you teach you – just as he never wanted to teach you generating lightning. (You took up the lightning, discarding the Pai Sho.)

“I’ve never played Pai Sho,” you retort, while you can’t believe that a first opportunity to gain her trust presented itself so quickly and so obviously (a mundane opportunity, but you’re patient. This is your road to the throne, albeit the wrong one), and you swallow your anger at Iroh.

“Oh,” Yue says quietly. “I can show you how it’s played.” She makes no move to stand up. “But you’ll have to do something for me in return, all right?” A conspiratorial smile spreads across her lips; a smile you have seen before, and you brace yourself for the worst. But you do nod determinedly. “You gonna explain to me what Hide and Explode is.”

This will be even easier than you expected.

  #9

The second secret she confides in you is not necessarily a secret either, but you let it pass as one because it means moving a step forward. You sit outside the palace and she explains the rules of Ice Marbles, which, unlike Pai Sho, seems like something you might actually enjoy. (You’re good at Pai Sho, a natural-born strategist, but little comes close to the sweet satisfaction of a victory evoked by a game in which you had to really put yourself out.)

Her hand cups yours as she corrects your grip, and you concentrate all your strength on simply accepting her feather-light touch. (You remember the first time she touched you, you feel the stone on your neck, making you much less of an outcast here.)

“Since you’ve arrived,” Yue says suddenly, without taking her hand from yours, “I wonder how on earth it’s possible that you don’t freeze.” She looks at your red and black coat, clearly not designed for North Pole temperatures.

You stare at the marble in your hand and reply: “Fire.”

The temperature of your fingers increases, and with the melting of the ice marble, Yue pulls her hand away to avoid burning her skin on yours. You regret a little that you didn’t tease the same indignant reaction out of Yue that Zuko would have displayed in this situation. But you also don’t expect her to say in a low, concerned voice: “You must be awfully hungry from all that bending.”

She doesn’t ask why you’re still dressed in the thin coats of the Fire Nation and not the warm parkas of the Water Tribe, even though so much time has passed by. Instead, she shows you the way into the kitchen and the best way to obtain a midnight snack without getting caught.

 #10

Your hot fingers bend metal, that was once a necklace of yours, into a new shape and you wonder what exactly it is you are doing here. Or rather: You know exactly what you are doing, but you cannot explain why you are doing it.

For years, the betrothal necklace around your neck hasn’t felt as heavy as it did when you were still in the Fire Nation, and by now you know the necklaces are given away by the courting to the courted. You know that wearing the necklace marks you as courted, as ensnared, as smitten, and you’re so very tired of seeing Yue’s bare neck peeking out of the collar of her parka. You’re not the kind of person whose benevolence is ensured without wearing your sign, too. Showing your allegiance so very publically when Yue’s not also constantly reminded that you’re not the only one who belongs to someone else.

So, you sit in the snow, wrapped in your coat and focusing your full attention on the gentle, precise bending of the metal to make a pendant for the red ribbon you pulled from another one of your necklaces. (You have no use for all the jewellery they bestowed upon you when you were forced to leave. There is only one necklace left for you to wear until you’re married.)

You dip the pendant into the snow to smother the glow and you look at the teardrop shaped thing into which you still have to engrave flames to avoid any confusion about who Yue is belonging to.

(In the end they look more like churning waves, you’re not an artist by any means, but Yue’s smile is so frighteningly genuine and so surprisingly infectious that you don’t mind it as you put the necklace on her.)

  #11

The third secret she confides in you may not be a deep, dark secret but it must be enough to reassure you that you are on the right track.

“I know a spot,” Yue said before she led you outside late at night and posited you right behind her on a polar bear dog. You rode for quite a while and, after she asked you to, you actually kept your eyes closed. (You tell yourself that you did it because you want to convey to her that you trust her, so she can completely and utterly hand herself over to you. But she has never given you any reason not to trust her, hasn’t she?)

Suddenly, the polar bear dog halts and you feel Yue lowering herself from its back to the ground. You pause until you feel her hand rest on your thigh, the back of her hand facing down, the inner palm turned up so you can put yours into hers so she can help you down.

“All right,” Yue says after leading you away from the polar bear dog. She stops you and turns you in another direction, then, without letting go of your hand, she says: “You can open your eyes now.”

And as you open your eyes, the vastness of the cold tundra and the polar light stretching above hits you right in the heart. You feel so small and overwhelmed that only Yue’s hand in yours can stop you from turning back to the polar bear dog and fleeing. (You’ve never felt like this before, and you don’t know how to deal with so many feelings that aren’t anger or defiance or spite.)

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Yue asks softly, and you can’t help but look at her out of the corner of your eye.

  #12

The only reason you came back to the place she showed you was because you wanted to be alone. Truly and utterly alone. Just a few precious hours without another living creature, while the North Pole sleeps and you can be finally in your own element again. (The constant control of your own body temperature and the perpetual cold drains you because there is so much more inside you that isn’t allowed to come out.)

You stole a midnight snack from the kitchen and wolfed half of it down before shaking out your limbs and stretching them.

Everything in Agna Qel’a is made of ice and you can’t afford to lose the goodwill of the city by melting its infrastructure or damaging a few buildings. So you must use the empty expanse of the tundra to scratch the itch inside of you; to finally get back to doing what you were born to do.

At first your joints feel unwieldy and frozen, as if you’ve never bend fire in your life, but the longer you twist and turn across the ice, the smoother your movements become, until eventually you feel as if you’ve never done anything else in your life. Laboured breathing, you slip your coat off your shoulders, your upper arms and face steaming in the cold. As you stretch your arms above your head to stretch the muscles in your shoulders, you suddenly hear a voice you didn’t expect: “That was beautiful.”

Surprised, you turn to Yue, whose hand clasps the reins of a polar bear dog. You reply slowly: “Firebeding is powerful.”

Yue shakes her head and it almost looks like she is smiling at you as she says: “No, what I mean is: It looked beautiful.” And you don’t know what to do with that statement.

  #13

It’s the Avatar.

The damned Avatar is at the North Pole and you don’t know what to do. (Or rather: You know very well what would be expected of you. You know that if you father knew about the Avatar, he would expect you to report to him without hesitation. You know that he would expect you to put a quick end to the Avatar. And you could, because he is so young and so inexperienced and so powerless that it would be easy for you to overpower him. But why should you do what your father expects of you? Why, after all this time of not hearing a word from him beyond the order to report back, should you do what he asks of you? You have waited so long for him to explain to you why he left you alone. You have waited so long for him to take you back and tell you that it was just a gambit to give you the space you deserve. You waited so long and were disappointed).

(And then there’s Yue, who doesn’t want to hide from you that the Avatar is at the North Pole; who looks into your eyes with vulnerable, brittle faith and tells you not to tell anyone; who begs you to keep quiet, even though she knows your father would demand otherwise).

The damned Avatar is at the North Pole and you don’t know what to do. (And you remain silent, just as your father remained silent when you had to leave the Fire Nation. And you stay silent because you have to gain Yue’s trust after your father lost yours. And you just watch the Avatar becoming stronger and stronger, because he’s going to affect your father in a way you could never possibly have).

  #14

The moment you realise that your loyalties cannot lie with your family and the Northern Water Tribe comes in the form of General Zhao laying siege to your city. (It is the first time you think of Agna Qel’a as your city; feel Agna Qel’a as your city). You must decide which side you’ll extravert.

This acknowledgement should not be difficult for you, even though your father is everything you have ever lived for. But still you stand rooted to the spot in a pile of snow and cannot lift a finger. Everything inside you freezes and you can only watch as Zhao makes his way to the oasis.

Your heart wanders reluctantly to Yue, who asks you in a trembling voice to support the Avatar and help the Northern Water Tribe; who desperately grabs your hand and asks you urgently if you are on the same side.

(Are you on the same side? So far you have only ever been on your side and the side you would share with other people has always had to be yours. Mai and Ty Lee have been on your side and you’ve been kind of on your father’s side. But now it’s different, now everything is different, and maybe it’s time to take a side that you’ve chosen all by yourself).

“General Zhao,” you call out with all the potency in your voice, and you surprise yourself. Even though you live at the North Pole and no longer have the same power as before, you are still his princess and he must do as you ask. “What do you think you are doing? Whose orders do you think you are acting on?” And with that, your battle lines are drawn and you are not sure how you found yourself on this side.

  #15

The fifth and final secret she confides in you sounds like the greatest revelation Yue is capable of.

You sit together in the middle of the tundra, five-fingered gloves and thick parkas with fur-trimmed hoods protecting you from the icy cold of the wind. The only other creature in sight is the polar bear dog on which you sneaked out of town.

“Can I tell you something I’ve never told anyone before?” Yue asks quietly, without looking at your face. You brace yourself for her to tell you something that will somehow move you forward, that will tell you how to finally take another step further.

When she doesn’t continue, you encourage her to keep talking: “Sure. Go on.”

“When I became old enough to be inducted into political business,” Yue begins, and you perk up, because until now you’ve been kept out of most political matters, because as the princess’s consort you don’t have the right to participate in the conversations and discussions, “my father forbade me to keep on penguin sledding with the other children because it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to do so. But I still sneaked out one time at night because I couldn’t stop myself.” A blush spreads across her cheeks that you’ve never seen on her before, you almost don’t recognise her.

“Penguin sledding,” you repeat, bewilderment creeping into your voice. (You were expecting a mystery to match the abysses of yours, but this one is so far from your understanding of what mystery truly is that you can’t stop yourself from laughing a little.)

Her cheeks turn even redder and she tries to hide her face from your gaze as she embarrassingly exclaims “Yes!”, which makes you laugh a little more. Suddenly you are no longer sure if you remember the plan.

  #16

The scroll in your hands looks as if you had never opened it, only the broken seal proves that you know the contents. You look at Yue, who is sitting on the carpet in front of her bed, and you say: “I must pack.”

Frowning in surprise, Yue asks: “What?”

“My father wrote to me,” you reply, then hand Yue the scroll so she can read for herself that your father is ordering your intervention in the doings of Iroh and Zuko.

Her eyes dance frantically over his words and with strained disbelief in her voice she asks: “And now you must pack?”

“I must pack and begin to search,” you declare, your thoughts already half buried in a map of the world.

Yue sighs sea-bottom-deep before she can stop herself, noting: “You must obey his command, for your people, I understand.”

You snort, and the laughter that falls from your lips afterwards could almost be about Yue if it wasn’t so damn entertaining that it doesn’t matter how much time people spend with you because they fail over and over again at being able to read you.

“I must find the Avatar to teach him firebending,” you retort mockingly. There is nothing in this world that edges you on as much as malice and invidiousness and the mere gratification of doing something out of spite. (To your father, not to just anyone. The days he could enjoy your unquestioned loyalty are over. You want your throne, and the Avatar is the only one who can make it happen).

“I’ll come with you,” Yue says suddenly, already standing on her feet, and you can’t explain the warm feeling that spreads through your entire body. After all, you didn’t ask her to come.

You say: “Good.” And she smiles at you.

  #17

The boat Yue has organised for you is small and wooden and not at all meant for royal travellers in its sheer simplicity, but it will have to suffice to find the Avatar who is supposed to be in the Earth Kingdom. Yue has brought on board two waterbenders for your plan, who will not rat you out to Arnook (because they love Yue; a nonbender who is not even trained in combat, but who is so close to their hearts that they see nothing wrong with doing anything for her, even if their chief would not agree) and who are trained in steering boats.

You take one last look at the illuminated palace that has been your … home for the last few years, even if the thought doesn’t necessarily bring the same kind of comfort as knowing Yue at your side. (Yue, who, without questioning your motivation, has been immediately willing to do anything for her people, and thus somehow for you; who, in all your time at the North Pole, you haven’t had to convince of yourself in the same way as Mai and Ty Lee and your father, and in whom you can sometimes recognise parts of your mother that she only revealed to Zuko, but never to you).

“You want to tell them to put out to sea?” Yue asks, after checking her bag one last time to make sure she has packed everything. She has let you tie her hair into a topknot, and if it weren’t for the Water Tribe symbol on the medallion she has attached to it, you could easily mistake her for a Fire Nation princess.

You shake your head. “You do it.”

And then you reach for her hand and together you board the boat. Your journey is just beginning.

[mankaithings]

Minagi Tsuzuru x Reader

got the idea from this conversation (Actually their whole chat was among this matter)

-------

Tsuzuru wanted to go home

If only he didn't agree to Azuma's persistance for him to try his job. Actually, it wasn't completely because of Azuma, more or less it was because of the pay of this particular cuddling job that he couldn't help but say no. It was triple the usual pay of his part time jobs and he only had to sleep beside someone. Albeit that someone is actually a stranger. But from what he garnered from Azuma, everybody was kind and doesn’t really pushes him to do anything he doesn’t want to. And if anybody makes him feel uncomfortable, Tsuzuru has the freedom to leave.

But as he looked around the bar where they were currently staying at, with all the neon party lights blinding his vision, the smell of alcohol reeking as almost every person chugged down their drinks and masses of intoxicated bodies dancing on the dance floor, moving to the noisy electric music that plays on the large speakers on the sides, Tsuzuru couldn't help but feel uneasy. Sure the scene should be normal for a college student like him but he was never one to join this kind of get-togethers, he always opted to stay at home and if he wanted to go out it would be at a much more peaceful and homey environment not an obnoxious and wild one that he was currently in

Beside him, Azuma chuckled at his expression as his eyes watched people dancing on the dance floor, some where feeling the beat of the song and jumping around, some were dancing those popular dance trends on tiktok, a couple was dancing a slow dance despite the beat not being relatively close to being sweet and romantic while others were grinding on each other, the alcohol obviously taking control of their bodies

"Calm down." Azuma's gentle voice said from beside him, "You won't be staying here aren't you?" He cocked his head to the side and stared at Tsuzuru who still had his eyebrows furrowed

"But I'm meeting someone who specifically asked to meet here!" Tsuzuru argued, "How can you be so sure nothing bad would happen?" Tsuzuru couldn't help but huff, he didn't want to sound captious but everywhere he looked intoxicated bodies were all around him, hardly anybody was in their proper mind as they let loose on the Friday night

"Don't worry, I know her, she isn't the type to force herself." Azuma took a sip from his own glass of alcohol, "Oh there she is." Azuma smiled as he waved

Following Azuma's gaze it landed on a familiar girl wearing tight black jeans and a shirt that had the club's logo on the front. Tsuzuru's jaw was slacked, he never expected you to be in a bar of all people

"Ah, has your shift ended?" Azuma asked in a friendly manner once you reached their duo, "It seems like you had quite a lot on your hands." Azuma chuckled while you sighed in exhaustion

"Yeah... Friday tends to be really busy..." You trailed off as your eyes finally went from Azuma towards his companion

"Tsuzuru? Minagi Tsuzuru?" Tsuzuru didn't miss the surprise in your voice as you stared at him with your eyes wide open in shock

"I never knew you liked this kind of places," You cleared your throat and fixed your posture, picking yourself up from the shock from earlier

"I-I'm not," Tsuzuru stuttered, beside him Azuma chuckled upon hearing him stammer, even if he wanted to say something, he couldn't. For he was still trying to figure out what to say to you. Surely you weren't his client? The oh-so respectable classmate who was always top in class, maybe you were just an acquaintance that Azuma knew? Tsuzuru tried to make up excuses as to why it couldn't be you, because just the thought of sleeping next to you made his stomach drop in nervousness

"He's the one I was telling you about," Azuma quipped in the conversation

"Ah, so he'll be my sleeping companion...?" Tsuzuru wanted to hide his face upon hearing the awkwardness in your voice

"That's right." Azuma finally confirmed

"Ah, I see..." You couldn't help but find the whole situation strange, you knew Tsuzuru as someone as a classmate in one of the classes you take but from your impression of him, you never would have think he took this kind of job

"Le-let's work hard together." Tsuzuru wanted to leave after those words left his mouth and Azuma's silent laughs weren't helping either. He was scared knowing that the adult actually caught on what he was feeling and what was happening and it didn't put him at ease. Besides, who says let's work hard together to someone you're going to be sleeping with?

But that was soon forgotten once he saw you crack a smile

"Yeah, let's work hard in...sleeping." You stiffled a laugh while Tsuzuru's face burned in humiliation, he wonders if he can still back out from the deal

"Well, I'll leave you two be." Azuma clasped a hand on Tsuzuru's shoulder and gave him a knowing smile before he left the club, his sensual aura enough to catch the attention of both men and women who were left looking after his figure once he left the club

"Should we go?" You pointed at the entrance where Azuma just left

"Ye-yeah."

Tsuzuru wished his tongue would go back to normal

------------------------

The walk from the club towards your home was easily distinguishable as quiet and full of awkwardness, the only sound around you were the bustling of leaves that moved because of the cold breeze of autumn and cars honking as they try to get home to rest for the whole weekend

The quietness didn't help with Tsuzuru's nerves

"I didn't know you were one of Azuma's client." He tried to start a conversation in hopes of easing the tension between the two of you

"I guess I don't really have that kind of persona." You chuckled, keeping your eyes on the road lighted up by the streetlights as you answered his question, "But it actually helps with getting proper sleep, you know?" Finally you turned to Tsuzuru

Tsuzuru nodded as he racked his brain for any more conversation starters, it wasn't like he was bad with communicating with others but around you he just feels too flustered that sometimes he couldn't think of anything to say

"I never knew you worked in a club." He blurted out while you hummed

"It gives extra money," You answered simply as if it was nothing, "Don't you also have a number of part time jobs?" You asked him

The conversation between the two of you continued until you reached your apartment and once again Tsuzuru was filled with nervousness which he so deeply tried to hide but as he was changing in your bathroom for more comfortable clothes to sleep into he couldn't help but feel his cheeks burn at the thought that as seconds pass, he was going to be on your bed, holding you in his arms and trying to lull you to sleep

He really never expected this kind of thing to happen

Walking out of the bathroom, he knocked on your bedroom door as it opened to reveal you in an oversized shirt and cotton shorts while your hair was finally down and face bare of makeup

Tsuzuru's heart fluttered, although there was a twinge of jealousy at the thought that Azuma got to see this sight whenever you called him for his services but he pushed the thought aside and instead focused on what was infront of him

"Come in?" You asked as you opened the door wider for him to enter

Tsuzuru took note of your room, it was clean and simple, a bed in the middle with a bedside table beside it, a working table was pushed to the wall infront of it which had scattered papers laying on it, Tsuzuru guessed it was those college papers that had to be passed

-

Tsuzuru could feel his heart thumping against his chest as he laid beside you, arms around your waist as you snuggled in his arms, never has he thought he would be doing this kind of thing with you but now he was and he was feeling both pleased and nervous, you were so close to him that he could smell the faint fragrance of your shampoo

How much time has passed since you laid still in his arms? A minute, an hour? Tsuzuru wasn't sure. He didn't even know whether you were already asleep or just like him, was still lying awake

"Hey Tsuzuru." You whispered and stared up at him. Tsuzuru was thankful for the dim lights in the room or else he doesn't think he could hide the obvious blush on his face that continues to intensify as moments pass between the two of you

"Thanks for doing this," You mumbled, "Even if it's a job for you, it really calms me down and helps me rest." You said honestly, staring into Tsuzuru's emerald green eyes which softened upon hearing your statement. He wanted to learn more, he wanted you to tell him everything and even if he could ask you what it was the tiredness in your eyes was evident with how it started to droop. So rather than opening his mouth, he tightened his hold around you and started playing with your hair in attempt of relaxing you and hopefully getting you to sleep peacefully

After a few minutes he could hear your steady breaths as your body fully relaxes in his arms. Tsuzuru stole a glance at your face and couldn't help but smile at the adorable sight, pushing the strands of hair away he observed your face a little longer, noting how long your eyelashes were and the slight blemishes on your skin that you most likely got when you were in puberty. But Tsuzuru couldn't help but think it made you look more beautiful. He thought you were already stunning at school but holding you in his arms like this made him realize just how much more beautiful you were

If only he could say those words to you out loud without stuttering or feeling embarrassed

Slowly, Tsuzuru felt drowsy as his eyes dropped until he was also deep in sleep with the innocent image of you etched onto his mind as he smiled through his slumber.

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Ripped Dress

Pairings: Henry Cavill x Actress Reader

Warnings: Maybe swearing as usual...

Word Count: 1,471

A/N: Doesn’t have a completed end yet, but just giving you more content to try to get myself out of a writing funk. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Red carpets have never, and will never be your cup of tea. They were always too loud, too crowded, and way too stressful, but you had a job to do, just like every other actor promoting their film. So like you had since your first movie premiere at ten years old, you donned a pretty dress and a smile, and walked the plank to your anxiety fueled hell.

Your custom made, silver chain mail, Versace dress hugged your frame perfectly, and sparkled like a diamond in the lights around you. It had a a slit up the thigh, a cute train off the back, and was almost the perfect combination of heavy and light, which comforted you in a way you hadn’t expected. As you walked away from the last of the cameras and interviews over to where your assistant, Ryan, was waiting for you, you sighed a little dramatically.

“Are we done yet?” You whispered, only partially teasingly, as you took the small bottle of water from his hand.

“Not yet, buttercup.” He breathed as he used your small hand bag as a fan as subtly as possible. “Damn, is it just me or did it get ten times hotter this year?”

“You say that every year.” You reminded him as you put on a smile and waved at Drew Barrymore, who was thankfully busy talking to someone else because you weren’t ready for her zealous, bubbly personality just yet. “And yet here we are.”

“Why haven’t we moved to the mountains yet?” He joked as he sassily popped his hip out in front of you. “Girl…” You shrugged your shoulder and finished the small bottle of water as one of your closest friends, Reese, called out your name. You turned in her direction and took a step that way, but someone was standing on the train of your dress. A loud rip made your stomach turn, and you scrambled to grab the sides of your dress as it tore straight up the left side of your body and all the way up to your breasts. Your face turned bright red as you quickly dropped to the floor to hide in the masses, while Ryan and the person who had stood on your dress in the first place spun toward you to help.

“Shit, is it bad?” Ryan asked, causing you to whip your head over to him with wide eyes.

“I don’t have a dress anymore.” You hissed as someone dropped something on your shoulder. “Just one big metal piece of material…”

“Darling, I am so, so sorry.” Someone said on your other side as he held his suit jacket tightly to your side. “I didn’t see your dress…”

“It’s fine.” You tried as people started to stop and stare since you were pretty much right at the exit of the red carpet, which made you quickly look away from the gawking eyes. “I’m OK.”

“No, you’re not.” The man said as he moved directly in front of you to block you from view. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.” You wanted to nod and let him help you to your feet so you could get away from this embarrassment, but the slight bit of anxiety you already had instantly tripled. Your head shook frantically and tried to take a deep breath, but your world started to collapse in on you. “Alright, come on. We’re going to get you out of here.”

“Henry.” You heard a woman’s voice say as you were slowly and oh so very carefully pulled to your feet. Your rescuer said ‘thanks’ and popped a large black umbrella open in front of you while Ryan opened a second one behind you.

“I wanna go home.” You said softly as you gripped Henry’s arm tightly as your vision started to tunnel.

“We’re going, sweetheart.” Ryan said as he hung up his phone. “Here, give me your arm. Right over here.” You glanced over at him and moved the fabric of your dress to your left hand so you could put the right through the suit jacket sleeve. You made it only a few steps before you stepped on the front of your gown and flew forward into the umbrella, nearly knocking it from your helper’s hand.

“OK, so one thing at a time.” Henry said as he pulled you up right and adjusted the umbrella in front of you. “Jacket on, then we’ll walk.”

“Just get me out of here.” You choked as you put his jacket all the way on and wrapped your dress around you like a towel to cover whatever the jacket didn’t.

“We’re going, sweetie.” Ryan said behind you as he made sure no one could see you in such a compromising position. “I have a car waiting out back.”

“Keep the dress up, darling.” Henry said softly as he carefully took your arm again just in case you were to trip once more. You nodded your head and clutched the material tight in your left hand as you reached across your body to hold onto his wrist. You could hear your heartbeat rushing in your ears and you were sure you resembled a tomato or worse. You were too terrified to cry, but you could feel the tears stinging the backs of your eyes and threatening to ruin your make up the moment it got the chance. This exact thing was something out of your worst nightmares, and yet here it was, your actual reality. The second time you tripped was because you caught the edge of a step leading to a side door of the venue that would lead you to your ride, but the stumble caused your heel to simply snap.

“Alright, well you are just a bloody mess.” Henry teased as he stopped just in the doorway. “Here, hold this. No more tripping for you.”

“You can’t just…” You started as Henry passed you the umbrella and very easily picked you up. “Oh! No, I’m OK…”

“Sweetheart, you made it thirty steps before tripping, then you broke your heel walking up the stairs. You are apparently dangerous if left to walk on your own.”

“She is.” Ryan chimed in as he walked beside Henry by your feet with his umbrella open so that you were covered on the side, just in case. You sighed and looked up at the man who spoiled and saved your night and startled the slightest bit at the easily familiar sharp, square jaw.

“You are Superman.”

“And you are the Black Widow.” Henry Cavill chuckled as he glanced down at you. “Henry.”

“(Y/N).”

“Pleasure to meet you.” He said with a smile as he dipped through a set of double doors. “I’m truly sorry I ripped your dress.”

“It’s fine.” You said softly as you looked down at your lap. Doing so made you miss Henry’s glance down at you as he walked through a second set of door that lead out to the side alley access. He noticed that you had wrapped part of the gown around your hand so tightly, it was making your fingers turn the slightish bit purple. “It’s fine.”

“She’s OK.” Ryan nearly whispered as the two of them stopped beside your rented town car. “Anxiety…”

“I understand that completely.” Henry said with a small nod as he carefully set you down beside the back door. “(Y/N).”

“It’s fine.” You repeated again as you looked up at him as the small damn holding back your tears started to crumble. “Thank you.”

“Come on, sweetie.” Ryan said softly as he stepped around Henry and pulled open the back door. “Let’s get you home.” You nodded and climbed into the car with a choked sob as your assistant looked back at your savior and pulled out your event ticket and your spare eye liner. “Thank you. Just call me about the jacket and I’ll get it back to you…”

“I’m in no rush.” Henry said with a nod as he looked down at the flash of metal that fell at his feet.

“Ryan!” You shouted as you covered your face with your hands. “Can we please get the hell out of here now?!”

“OK, we’re going.” Your assistant said as he scrambled into the car beside you. Henry gave you a small unseen wave as the car pulled away from the curb, and he bent down to pick up your ripped dress off the ground.

“Henry?”

“Leah, I need to find a tailor.” He said evenly as he carefully folded your gown. “And a car home. No since in going in without a jacket now, right?”

“Is she OK?” His assistant asked as she stepped up to his side and pulled out her phone.

“I’ll find out in a few days when I return the dress.”

[bourbonmetalhead]

64 Bourbons Bracket: Round of 32 (Matchup 8): Bulleit 10 Year vs. Russell’s Reserve OBC SP

Song advancing this matchup: “Desert of Song” by Between The Buried and Me.”

Russell’s Reserve OBC SP advances to the Sweet 16. Bulleit 10 Year led for much of this matchup. It initially had a much deeper Kentucky hug and actually had more complexity. And I love the oak in Bulleit 10 Year. People throw shade on Bulleit, but this is a fucking delicious bourbon. It reminds me of a poor man’s IW Harper 15 Year (and IW Harper 15 Year is a poor man’s anything). Bulleit 10 Year brought a delicious spearmint to the tasting. I am going on record: Bulleit 10 Year is a kick ass bourbon. As long as it is produced and not allocated, I will ALWAYS have a bottle in my collection. Buy it. Now.

But enough about the loser (of this round). On to the winner. This Russell’s Reserve was a very slow starter, like many of the Booker’s have been. Maybe that’s a non-chill filtered thing. I don’t know. The Russell’s got more and more complex. It was subtle, with little hug and modest flavors. Nothing bad, but the oaky brashness of Bulleit 10 Year was talking major shit at the pool table. And Russell’s Reserve OBC SP just smirked, applied chalk an its cue and missed a few shots. Let Bulleit get cocky. Got Bulleit 10 Year to put its money on the table. Then Russell’s Reserve OBC SP started breaking out english, masse, and started calling triple bank shots. Then came the Kentucky chew: and Bulleit 10 Year was run off the table.

That Serrano pepper. Yes. Thank you, may I have another? A hot pepper without next day burning shits? Yes! I show my age. I digress. Back to Russell’s. It had little Kentucky hug before the Kentucky chew. Then the hug and complexity came through. And the variety of cherries bring me to my current palate altar. I don’t know if I will keep crowning cherry frosting and wild cherries, but it embraces me.

“Silence is broken.” Between the Buried and Me oscillate betwixt Opeth, Alice in Chains (Jar of Flies), King’s X, Cave In, and the phenomenal Maylene and the Sons of Disaster. J picked this song for the first round. I honestly thought that Krallice would crush it, but Krallice played once during the set-up and I put “Desert of Song” on repeat and it didn’t disappoint for a single second. This song has an absolute chance to ho all the way to the Final Four. Just incredible and it is so smooth.