#my earlier chapters were so bad though what crack was I on

[fairyofshampgyu]

Omg guys I finally have motivation to write for now live !! YOU DONT UNDERSTAND IM SO HAPPYYYYY 💞💞💞💞🥰✍️✍️✍️

Stream 8 coming v soon 🤭!! If people are still waiting on that series 😭

[torscrawls]

A Ghost by Any Other Name

Danny tries to discreetly combat the ghosts suddenly showing up in Gotham without anyone finding out his secret, find out exactly why the ghosts have decided to follow him like lost ducklings after his narrow escape from his hometown, keep under the radar of both the Bats and his parents, not melt any more than he already has, and not worry his new and innocent friend Tim. Who knew that running away from home would be this stressful?

Wordcount: 1,620

Chapter 1/10

Can be read on AO3!

This fic has art from the wonderful and talented Luca!

---

Tim was just exiting his favorite coffee-shop when he was suddenly tackled by a shouting woman. “My baby! There you are!”

He watched his innocent cup of quintuple-shot espresso sail through the air and splatter across the sidewalk at the same time as he registered her muscular arms and the clear press of several weapons strapped to her body. Not a normal civilian then.

Right. Priorities.

The woman kept her strangle-hold on him as she continued, “Thank goodness you finally managed to get away from that terrible ghost!”

Tim twisted to get his attacker off him. Then he noticed that he wasn’t held in any of the multitude of restraining holds that he had been trained to escape. No, it was something a lot stranger than that. It was a hug.

“I think you have the wrong person,” he managed to get out as he tried to ease her off him, finally registering her earlier words and mentally readjusting the scenario towards a case of misunderstanding rather than an attack. Hopefully. It wouldn’t be the first time a villain took a roundabout way of getting to him, even if he had to say a hug was quite a nice way of going about it.

And that was the moment he noticed the frankly ridiculously big man bounding towards them with a wide smile and tears streaming down his face. He wasn’t slowing down. Oh shit.

He patted the woman on the back to get her attention since she seemed completely unaware of their impending doom. “Um…”

She only squeezed him harder and said, “God! It’s been so long! We were so worried!”

Tim’s bad feeling turned into dread. “… We?”

Then the man slammed into both of them with a wail of, “Danno!” 

The air rushed out of Tim as he was squashed between the two strangers. He might have been robbed of his morning coffee but he couldn’t deny that he was wide awake by now. Cass would be proud, and laugh her ass off. Tim vowed to never let her know about this.

After what felt like an eternity and what was surely a few cracked ribs, the woman disentangled herself from the hug with practiced ease that would put Catwoman to shame. She somehow managed to get the man to let Tim go and after a few seconds of struggling to breathe, Tim managed to wheeze out, “What's a Danno?!”

Then he was staring down the barrel of a gun. He tried to quell his instinct to kick it out of the woman’s hands, but it was the middle of the morning rush, and they were standing on a fairly well trafficked sidewalk, where even if people were smart enough to give the gun-wielding-maniacs—ergo, possible villains—a wide berth, it didn't mean they weren't staring.

Tim slowly raised his hands in a disarming gesture as he thought of a way to get out of this. So far they hadn’t made any demands. They also hadn’t harmed him (except his coffee and his wounded pride). Tim just wished he knew what this was about. So far he had been hugged twice, then had a gun aimed at his face. A gun that glowed green, emitted a worryingly high-pitched whine, and was very clearly home-made. Wonderful.

As Tim looked between the woman and the man he noted how both of their expressions had gone from relief and love to cold and hateful in the blink of an eye. He tensed, ready to disarm her, no matter the people around them. He refused to get himself shot before lunch.

The woman’s hands were steady—even though Tim noted that one of her hands were wrapped in bandages, and how both she and the man looked like they hadn’t slept in days—and her voice was flat as she said, “Phantom might still be overshadowing him.”

Tim frowned as both of them looked intensely into his eyes and after a few tense seconds the woman gave a satisfied nod. “The ghost is gone. You're safe now.”

She lowered the gun but Tim’s frown only deepened. “Ghost? What ghost?” 

The man and woman exchanged looks which only served to confuse him even more. 

“Honey,” the woman said in a soft voice, holstering her gun before placing a hand on Tim’s arm. He shook her off. “Honey, you were kidnapped by Phantom. It overshadowed you. You’ve been missing for a long time! That's probably why you can't remember anything.”

The man nodded along. “We’ve followed you to several cities. You must be exhausted!”

They seemed genuinely distraught by what they were saying but that didn't change the fact that they were absolutely insane.

Tim shook his head. “Look, you’re clearly confused. I’m not—”

He didn’t get to finish before the big man patted Tim on the shoulder with enough force to make him stumble. “Come on, now. It’s time to go home!”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Tim bit out, his patience running out. He was almost certainly late to his meeting by now, he didn’t have his coffee, and these two seemed allergic to making any kind of sense. “Who the fuck even are you?”

“Language young man!” The woman with the gun admonished him at the same time as the hulking man shook his head with a disapproving, “Is that any way to address your folks?” 

“My what?!”

These people were absolutely crazy. He already had one unstable parent which was more than enough, thank you very much. He had to get away from them. He took a few steps backwards. The big man stepped with him.

“Son. We know you must be scared, but—” 

“Why would you think I'm your son?!” And what kind of parents would be so ready to pull a gun on their child?

The man slammed a meaty fist into his other hand. “Is this something Phantom put you up to? Oh, when I get my hands on that ghost I’ll—”

The woman grabbed Tim’s arm in a startlingly strong grip. “Are you sure you’re okay, honey? Did that pesky ghost mess with your head?”

“I’m not your son!” Tim exclaimed with increasing desperation. He slapped her hand away. “And stop touching me!”

At this she paused, wide eyes fixed on him, before they narrowed sharply.

The man’s eyes fixed on the side of his neck as he slowly said, “What happened to your scar…?”

The woman finally drew back from him. “Daniel would never hit—”

“Wait a minute…” the man said as he pointed an accusatory finger at Tim. “You're not Daniel!”

Tim groaned as he dragged a hand through his hair. “That's what I've been saying the whole time!”

“Oh!” The woman tilted her head with a calculating look in her eyes that made a shiver of discomfort crawl up Tim’s spine. “But you really do look similar. You both have dark hair and blue eyes.”

Tim waited for more attributes that he shared with this mysterious Daniel, but nothing else came. That was why they had mistaken him for their son? His hair and eye color? …Shouldn’t they be a bit more familiar with what their own son looked like?

The man rubbed at his shin. “Did we have another son?”

“Ha!” the woman laughed, “Of course not, honey. We wouldn’t forget that!”

Tim wasn’t so sure, but he didn’t want to risk starting another argument with these people. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and awkwardly said, “So, I have to get going. It was… interesting meeting you.”

“Yes! Right! We need to keep looking!” The man straightened up and then screamed at the sky, “Don’t worry, son! We’re coming for you!”

Tim winced, both at the volume and at tomorrow’s headlines which he could already see in his mind’s eye. ‘Wayne Enterprise’s young CEO Tim Wayne caught roughhousing in the streets’. His family would not let him live this down for weeks.

“So sorry for the inconvenience,” the woman said as she lowered goggles over her eyes and took out what looked like some sort of tracking device from somewhere on her jumpsuit. She didn’t sound sorry at all. She continued under her breath, “Phantom should still be in the city… We won't let it get away again.”

And Tim was fairly certain that they should be more focused on finding their apparently missing son than hunting down some ghost, but who was he to judge? And he really didn’t want to get involved in this situation any more than he already had.

The man didn’t even try to apologize as he, once again, slapped Tim on the shoulder with enough force to make him stagger. “It was nice meeting you, young man! And remember; the only good ghost is a dead one!”

“Aren’t all ghosts dead…?”

That made the man boom out a laugh loud enough to make Tim wince. “I like your humor! If you ever get into any trouble with the undead just give us a call!”

Tim didn’t even know their names, but didn’t have time to ask before the woman exclaimed something about a reading and they both took off down the street on a run.

Whoever their missing son was, Tim hoped he stayed far away from them.

His eyes landed on his spilled coffee and Tim heaved a sigh as he turned back towards the coffee-shop. He would have to call in late, but he refused to face any more of this day without caffeine. 

He had more important things to focus on than Bruce getting some competition in the adoption-department. Oh, well. He probably wouldn't see them again.

At least he could console himself with the fact that ghosts aren't real.

[fushiguruuzzzz]

vi ⊹ ࣪ ˖ Secret Door

Series mlist 

Tags — short boring filler chapter, mention of hangover, murder jokes (reader isn’t joking I fear)

Words — 0.5k

You awoke the next morning with an intense pounding in your head and the immense confusion of how you ended up in your own bed. Your memory from the night before was rather hazy, just the purple of the lights and the blur of red that was Yuji and… Megumi. Megumi and his lingering presence, Megumi and every memory you had with him. Megumi who recognized you, whose words caught in his throat upon seeing your face. Whether that was a good or bad thing, you weren’t attentive enough to tell. 

You sat up with a disgruntled groan, the blanket that had been embracing you piling up in your lap with a soft noise. The sunlight was seeping in through the cracks in the blinds, the little amount of light all too much for your strained eyes. 

“Finally awake?” came a voice across the room, one that was all too familiar and all too condescending. Maki sat at the bottom of her bed, eyeing you through the shining lenses of her glasses. 

You grumbled, letting a tired yawn leave your cracked lips. “Sadly,” you said, pulling your knees up to your chest. You leaned your head down on them, messy tufts of hair falling all around. 

She let out a half amused hum, a breath leaving her lips. “Megumi brought you home,” she said simply, her voice carrying that tone of indifference that it always did. It was a little scary, honestly. Your head shot up, and you barely even cared to wince at the way the painful throb intensified at the motion. Your eyes were wide, comically so. “He did?”

She nodded, giving a short nod in the direction of your bedside table. “Yeah. I’d check your phone if I were you.” 

… that stupid fuck. You were going to kill Toge. Maybe panda after, too. 

Later that afternoon, you sat curled up on your bed, the same as you’d been earlier in the day except you lacked the frustrating pain in your head as well as the nausea resting in your gut. You glanced up from your phone to look at the girl sitting opposite to you in your dorm. You were a little nervous, both to ask and to actually act on the results of said question. It was better her than Yuji, though. 

“Maki?” you asked, voice still hoarse from sleep. “Hm?” She hummed, glancing up at you. 

“What’s Fushiguro’s number?” She paused, quirking a brow at you. Maki wasn’t necessarily one to tease, but the way she was looking at you got pretty close. 

You rolled your eyes, tossing a pillow sitting at your side across the room, at her. “Don’t look at me like that. I want to say thanks for getting me home last night.” 

She let out an amused huff, but nodded nonetheless. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll send it to you.”

Taglist !¡ —

@meowymeowbreow @1l-ynn @kiss-my-asscheeks @starrysho @missunrise @good-mourning0 @gumims @beaniesayshi @mrowwww @luvvmae @megumislovedoll @qingpunk @azharyy

chapter 6 and they’ve met once… they’re actually gonna start interacting trust I think… toge went offline for two hours after reader texted him. Everyone was scared she actually killed him megumi lied in bed all day thinking about her he want that cookie so bad

[thewalkingwillowtree]

Safe Haven - Slice of Life

Series Part Listing Found Here

Hi Friends! Merry Christmas!!

As my present to you all, here's a little slice (chunk) of life of Xi and Neteyam's family life. This was originally supposed to be an Epiloguest type of chapter, but this came out instead.

Hope you enjoy!

~

Zyden shuffled around his family’s home a tad bleary eyed. After cleaning himself up, taming down his sleep twisted braids and chewing on a sprig of van’eela bark, he fixed a quick meal from his family’s stash and sat down to eat it. 

“Hey, Sprout,” Neteyam greeted, walking in after a ‘graveyard shift’ of patrol duty. 

Although he tried not to take up too many shifts during that hour, it was mating season for pulkatans and so it was all hands on deck for protecting the clan when they were most susceptible to threats. 

“Morning, dad,” Zyden voiced, scarfing another mouthful of food in his mouth. He squinted as he chewed, watching his father shuck off his riding gear and weapons. “Mom threw up earlier- twice. I held her hair back.” 

Neteyam sighed, glancing at the partition he knew his mate was behind. “Is she up?”

“No, she fell back asleep after having tea. Hys snuck in with her at some point last night. He still has that cough. Hope it’s okay that I gave him a little of the g’in root tonic mom’s been giving him.”

Ruffling his son’s hair affectionately, Neteyam pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. “Thanks for taking care of them for me.” 

“Course.” Zyden sprang up to hurriedly rinse out his bowl.

“Where are you heading off to so early anyway?” 

“Grandpa Jxo said L’eo and I can help him and his team with the repairs on the northern border. I wanna finally try out that old drill uncle Norm fixed up for me. L’eo’s probably already waiting for me, I said I’d meet him at his tent.” 

Neteyam nodded. “Alright have fun. Remember your rules?”

Zyden rolled his eyes, cracking a smile despite his mild annoyance. “Yeesss, dad.”

“And what are they?” 

“Do I really have to do this every time?”

“Sure do.”

“Ugh, dad.”

“Hey, the longer you take to say them, the longer you take to leave. Now come on, what are they?”

“Fine… Be respectful to anyone I see. Keep my wits about me. Don’t go past the boundaries without your permission and always be home by curfew. Can I go now?”

“Got your knife?” 

Zyden huffed. “Dad!” He laughed. “You can clearly see it on my hip!” 

“Alright, alright. Get out of here. I’ll see you later!”

He watched from the threshold as Zyden ran down the pathway until he disappeared. Only at the sound of a feminine chuckle behind him, did he turn around. 

Biting down on his bottom lip and head tilting ever so slightly to the side, his eyes roamed over his wife appreciatively.

Even though it had been years, the sight of her never ceased to amaze him. She was sleep rumpled- all squinty eyes, mused hair and sleep lines from whatever pillow she’d been laying her cheek on. 

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured in greeting. 

Xilä’s nose wrinkled at the compliment yet she couldn’t help the fond smile that escaped her. “I’m a mess.”

He shrugged as he closed the distance between them, swooping downward to steal a kiss. “A beautiful mess then,” he teased, making her giggle happily. 

“Sure,” she laughed in denial, patting his chest in thanks anyway. 

“Zyden said you were sick again?”

“Mhm.” Xi sighed contentedly, leaning into her mate’s soothing touch. “I don’t remember it being this bad with either of our boys.” 

Neteyam rocked them side to side slowly, one hand running up and down her spine, the other splayed on her little bump that had only begun to show. 

“Maybe it’s a girl this time,” he joked. 

It was an old wives tale that terrible morning sickness meant the baby would be a girl. 

“Maybe,” she hummed, playing along. 

“Should I brew you some tea? I made sure to get that weird coral stuff from Awa’atlu that Ronal recommended when you were pregnant with Zyden.”

Xi smiled up at him. “You spoil me, you know that?” 

“Always.”

“Mama?” 

They both turned at the same time to see a coughing Hysik coming towards them. 

Although the little one clearly had his sights set on his mother, Neteyam scooped him up before Xi could. 

“There’s, my boy.” 

Hys broke out into giggles when his sides were tickled and a loud raspberry was blown into his cheek. 

“Did you sleep well, my love?” Xi cooed as she brushed away askew strands of hair away from his face.

“Yep! But- but I wake up and you went gone mama. That’s not very nice,” the three year old said in all seriousness, making his parents chuckle. “I missed you when I was sleeping.”

“Aw. I’m sorry, baby.”

Xi frowned when Hysik released another wet, rattling cough. She reached up and felt his forehead, then under his neck, relieved to find him cool to the touch. 

“I don’t like how long his cough is taking to dry up.”

“Me too,” Xi echoed. “I know it’s just a cold, but just to be safe I think I’ll take him to see your grandmother today.”

As his parents planned their day, Hys took the opportunity to stretch forward with intent, one tiny hand clutching the fabric of Xi’s top, little face smooshed into her neck when she settled him against her hip.

“He’s getting too big for you to carry around now. You’re not supposed to be straining yourself.” 

“I know, but just let me baby him a little longer.” And for emphasis she hugged him closer and attacked his small palm with a noisy kiss. 

“I- I not a baby, mama.” Hys sounded entirely offended.

Neteyam snorted and Xi pouted. 

“Yes, you’re my baby.” 

“No.” His head lifted and his hand patted his mama’s cheek as if trying to make her understand. “I a big boy. Like Zyden. An- and L’eo. And Js’avi. And- and-”

Neteyam pointed at himself, mouthing, “me” at his son. 

“And daddy!” 

~

After breakfast, Neteyam, Xilä and Hys slowly made their way through camp towards the  Tsahìk’s tent. 

Despite his little legs, Hysik’s fast steps zigzagged ahead of them, then fell a little behind when he got distracted by an insect at first, then an interesting rock- only to be hailed by his parents.

He waved hello to almost every person they met on the way and practiced his “good mornings,” with a confidence Xilä wished she’d had when she first arrived at Home Camp.

“Sprout’s been asking a lot of questions about our trading system lately.” 

Xi grinned. “He takes after you and his grandfather for sure. I overheard him giving Jake suggestions on how to improve things.” 

“They’re good too,” Neteyam said proudly. “I know he’s only ten, but dad and I were thinking of creating a little roll for him. Get him involved in the process somehow.”

“I love that. I think Zyden will too.” 

“Next shipment I’ll see what I can come with then.”

“Oh…”

“What?”

“It’s just- that’s two weeks away.”

Neteyam’s brows furrowed. “Well, yeah. Why?”

“Nothing. I figured Leati or Gwuyle or even your father would be handling shipments while you were gone.” Xi nibbled on her bottom lip, glancing up to see the obvious shift in her mate’s disposition. “I take it you haven’t given any more thought about your trip then?”

Tense from subject change, Neteyam tried to keep his tail limp. It tended to give way his emotions before it could reach his face- his wife’s words, not his. 

“Baby, we’ve been over this-”

“I know, I know. I’m only checking again,” Xi assured, lightly squeezing his fingers where they were linked with hers. “And you’re sure?”

Her mate didn’t answer. 

“‘Teyam… I know you hate when I say it, but… it’s been years now.”

“You can come with me,” he suggested, as if he hadn’t done so many times in the last three weeks, deflecting what she was trying to get to. “You and the boys.”

“Neteyam, I don’t-”

“Gwran’mama ‘Tiri!” 

Hysik squealed happily at the sight of Neytiri who lit up at the sound of her grandson’s voice. She instantly attacked him with affection the second he landed in her arms, showing him off to the Na’vi women she’d been talking to. 

Xilä sighed when her husband sped up to go greet his mother.

She guessed their conversation would have to wait. 

~

Hysik was a little “chatterbox” as his grandpa Jake had nicknamed him. 

Throughout his entire checkup, Hys talked and talked and talked. Telling the Tsahìk every little detail of a very elaborate dream he’d had. 

And of course, being a doting great-grandmother, Mo’at hung on to every word, all while she expertly handled the toddler’s squirming and fidgeting and whining when it was time for her to inspect his tail. 

“Warm marllow root tea with a little raw nectar and he’ll be fine in no time,” Mo’at announced after she’d completed her checks. 

“And there’s no infection?” Xi asked, letting her son crawl out her lap and boldly fling himself into his father’s instead. 

“No, infection.”

“What about his lungs?” Neteyam asked this time, unfazed as Hys used him as his own personal climbing wall- little knees and elbows digging into his muscle, small feet pinching his thighs and stomach. 

Cases of the purple fever had begun to pop up again, and its effects were known to have damaging effects on the lungs. 

“Fine too. It’s a cold, not the purple fever, thankfully. To be safe, no school time tomorrow and I suggest you keep using the g’in root for another week.”

Xilä’s shoulders slumped in relief. Logically she knew all of this, but hearing it from Mo’at made all the difference.

“Thank you, grandmother… I swear, one would certainly think I’m no healer. But when it comes to my children, I panic and I forget everything you’ve taught me.”

Mo’at clicked her tongue in amusement. “Never mind that, dear. Our children tend to have that effect on us.”

“Gwran’mama?” Hys interrupted shyly. 

He hadn’t quite gotten names down just yet, and so Sal, Neytiri and Mo’at were all called gwran’mama, while Jake and Jxo were gwran’papa.

It was honestly cute, and thankfully none of the grandparents seemed to mind his mix ups. 

“Yes, my dear boy?”

“I was really good. Can I have a treat now?”

“Please,” Neteyam prompted.

Hys nodded, little palms stretching out as his tail waved excitedly. “Yes, please, gwran’mama?”

With two sweet treats secured, Hysik was quietly occupied as he sat in his father’s lap. 

Mo’at decided she wanted to check over Xi as well, since she was already here- gentle hands poking and prodding the little baby bump while she asked question after question. 

The Tsahìk was the only one besides their son Zyden, who officially knew they were expecting. 

Xilä and Neteyam had had an extremely difficult time conceiving their Hysik. To Xi, he was their little miracle baby. She’d cried for almost two days straight out of pure joy when she found out she’d be a mother for the second time.

And so, suffice to say, this time around both she and Neteyam had been shocked- pleasantly surprised of course, that Xi’s “stomach bug” turned out to be morning sickness.

“Are you still sick in the mornings?”

“Not all the-”

“Yes she is. Every morning for the last month, and after lunch on most days too,” Neteyam answered. “She’s barely able to keep anything in her for long.”

“Hm… It’s still early, and you haven’t lost that much weight for us to be worried yet. So we’ll monitor it for now, yes? Keep drinking your soothing teas and maybe stick to fruit and well-cured meats for a few days.” 

Xilä smiled gratefully when Mo’at patted her hand. 

~

“Theeen, I finally hit every target at practice- even the furthest ones I could never get perfectly, and I beat Pk’osh at a wrestling match. He’s the biggest in our class and no one’s ever beaten him before- I did that new technique that grandpa Jake taught me and L’eo- you know one like-” Zyden made an exaggerated jerk to demonstrate.

“Zyden,” his mother chided from where she was hunched behind him- fingers in his hair as she braided neat plaits. 

“Sorry, ma,” he apologized quickly, sitting still once more. “Oh and, dad! Our trainer said that I am seriously fierce for my age. He said that if I put in the hard work, I’d be a great warrior. I want to be perfect at all my tests though. So I have an advantage for my Iknimaya rites.”

“My love, you don’t have to worry about your Iknimaya for at least another couple of years.”

“I know, mom but it never hurts to be prepared. Right, dad?”

Sprawled out on the massive hammock in his and Xi’s room, Neteyam was all wide smiles as he listened to his son speak.

“He’s right,” Neteyam agreed as he Xi shared meaningful grins over the top of Zyden’s head.

Xilä rolled her eyes fondly. Her son sounded just like his father.

“L'eya's the best in our class with the bow, and since we started spear practice, L’eo’s been the best, but I’m definitely better at sparring and knife throwing.”

“I’m incredibly proud of you, Sprout,” Neteyam praised. 

“And me!” Hysik piped in, wanting to be included. He pointed at his chest as he sat up on his knees to face his father. “I a warrior too, daddy!” 

Neteyam chuckled and tickled his pudgy tummy. “I’m very proud of you too, Hys.”

The three year old beamed, awfully pleased with himself before focusing on the little carved ikran he’d been flying around. Making screeching sounds, he waved it in the air then dramatically landed it on his daddy’s propped up knee. 

When Xilä finished with the final braid, she hugged Zyden round his shoulders and kissed his temple. Most days she couldn’t believe that he was almost eleven already- and almost as tall as her. 

Both he and Hysik were the splitting image of Neteyam. Zyden had her eyes and more prominent pointed ears while Hys only had a mildly darker hue of her dusty blue complexion. Everything else was all his father.

Continuing to chat with Neteyam, Sprout curled up on his mother’s side of the hammock. And by the time Xi tidied away a few things, and quickly spoke with Kah’lee who’d stopped by to drop off a borrowed basket, Hys was sprawled half asleep on his daddy’s chest. 

“Alright, my loves,” Xi called. “Bedtime.” 

“No- no bedtime, mama,” Hys whined as he tiredly rubbed his eyes. 

“Come on, Hys,” Neteyam encouraged, rubbing the little ones back. “We have to listen to your mama.”

“Dad, can you tell us a story first?”

“Sure, which one do you want to hear?”

Xi crawled in beside Zyden and Hysik instantly reached out for her. He was at that weird toddler stage where he wanted to be a “big boy” most days, but still enjoyed being babied.

Cheek settled against her chest, Xi ran her fingers through his hair. Immediately his eyelids fluttered closed and his little tail curled up contentedly. 

“How about the one about mom’s Iknimaya rites,” Zyden decided, “and how she used the ul’nic that Na’raline’s sa'nok gave her?”

“Oh that’s a good one… Hmm. Alright, so first, did you know your mother was terrified of heights?”

Zyden giggled. Of course he knew, yet every time his father told this story, it still made him laugh. 

Xilä smiled happily as she drank in the sight of her boys.

Nights like these, when it was just the four of them, were her favorite.

~

“So, wife. Are you going to put me to bed now?” Neteyam teased when he returned from getting the boys settled in their rooms.

Her back was turned to him as she stood rubbing oil along her stomach. “Now why does that sound so naughty, husband?” 

“Cause it’s meant to be,” he murmured, pressing up against her. His lips brushed her ear while his hands went around to join hers- large palms splayed, making her little baby bump disappear. 

“I still can’t believe we’re going to have another one.” 

Neteyam’s chin perched on her shoulder as he caressed her bump, watching how perfect his palms fit around it. “Me neither… We’re going to be outnumbered now.” 

Xi chuckled, slotting her fingers into the spaces between each of his fingers. “Don’t pretend like you don’t love it.”

“You’re right. I love it,” he admitted, nibbling a little on her jaw. “But don’t worry, baby. We’ll stick together…”

“What?” she ask when he made a thoughtful sound.

“It’s just… three is such an odd number. Don’t you think?”

“‘Teyam, this baby isn’t even born yet. Are you really advocating for a fourth right now?” Xi laughed.

He pouted against her cheek. “I’m just saying…”

This man.

“When do you think we should tell the family? Sal’s going to go crazy and Kiri will be relieved since mom’s been dropping not so subtle comments at her and Tasam.”

“Um… Maybe when you get back from your trip.”

A sigh escaped Neteyam as he stood tall again- arms falling away from her body. He tugged on her tail lightly before stepping away to fling himself into their hammock, tossing out a couple of the cushions that took up too much space. 

“Baby, I’m not going on that trip.” 

Xilä could tell her husband was frustrated with her and actively trying not to show it. But at this point she didn’t care. He kept brushing her off whenever she brought up the subject.

“‘Teyam, we need to talk about this. Please?”

“Come to bed, Xi. We’re just going to fight if we do this tonight.”

“Then let’s fight.”

He blinked. “You want to fight?”

“If that’s what it's going to take for us to clear this up, then yes.”

“Now?” 

“No! Next year,” she snapped sarcastically. “Yes, now.” 

His brows jumped at her tone, and he quickly sat up. “O-okay. Then let’s.” 

Xilä approached the edge of their bed, but didn’t sit. “Jake said that this trip is a huge opportunity- that it will be a major factor to help prove you’re more than capable to lead our clan.”

“There will be other chances-”

“But this one is right here!” 

“Xilä-”

“Why don’t you want to go?” she asked frankly. She had an inkling but wondered if he’d actually say it out loud.

“What? I- Xi, I’m not going to leave my sons and my pregnant wife for a one month trip to the Wetlands that I’m perfectly sure my dad and Tasam- who I’m sending instead, can handle.” 

Xilä planted her hands on her hips. 

“You are supposed to be meeting with the chief of the Hulanta clan- as future chief yourself, Neteyam! Tasam was supposed to go with you either way, as your future second. I’m barely four months along and perfectly capable of taking care of our sons. I have a whole support system if I need help… Those are all poor excuses you gave and you know it.” 

Neteyam’s jaw clenched tight. He pinched the bridge of his nose as though in pain, then leveled his mate with an expression full of exasperation. 

“I don’t understand why you’re pushing this, Xilä. Why won’t you take me saying that I just don’t want to go, as an answer?”

“Because when Jake first brought this up, you were so excited about it! You came home and spent over an entire afternoon telling me everything you planned to either implement or suggest to the Hulanta chief-”

Neteyam tried to interject but Xilä silenced him with a flashing glare, one knee coming up to rest on the hammock. She didn’t back down, not even at the sight of his tail thrashing furiously. 

“And the second you found out that the boys and I couldn’t come on the trip with you, you shut it all down.” 

“I changed my mind, okay? I had my reasons.”

“You had your reasons?” Xi frowned. 

“It’s a month long trip. Yes. I had my reasons.” 

“The same type of reasons that left you unable to go on any trip no matter how long or how short in the last ten years, right?” Xi pushed. “Trips that me and the boys weren't able to make with you because it was either dangerous or just plain unnecessary?”

“Drop it, Xi. I’m done for tonight.” 

“Drop it?! For Eywa sake! Neteyam that’s all I’ve been doing for the last ten years. Every time I try to bring up this conversation you’ve told me to drop it and I have! I don’t want to do it anymore!” 

“I don’t see the problem here! I’m prioritizing my family. Why are you so adamant on getting rid of me?!” 

“Getting rid of you? You think that’s what I’m trying to do?” 

“Sure seems that way, sweetheart,” he snapped. 

“Well what it seems to me, is that you're running away from what the actual issue is and I don’t understand why you won’t just be honest with yourself about it.” 

“I don’t know what you’re on about, but I am telling you for the last time. I am not going on that goddamn trip.”

“WHY?”

“Fucking hell, Xilä-”

“Why won’t you go on the trip?”

“Because the last time I left for a trip without you, you were fucking kidnapped, beaten and traded as if you were fucking cattle! You were left in the clutches of a lunatic who wanted to claim you! And I- I almost lost you, Xilä! Do you know what that did to me?! How could you possibly think I could leave you again? And worse yet- for an entire fucking month?!” 

There it was. 

Neteyam abruptly stood and made a beeline for the partition that separated their room from the rest of the tent- hair flying behind him. “I need a minute. Don’t follow me out.” 

Ears burning hot from the intensity of the moment, Xilä stared at where her husband had disappeared and began to silently count- a tactic she’d learnt from Mo’at over the years to aid with her anxiety. 

She’d barely gotten to one hundred when he returned- far more calmer and looking a whole lot guilty after his outburst. 

“Come here,” he said gently. 

Folding her into an all consuming embrace, he whispered a series of apologies against her forehead. He rarely ever lost his temper with her and the boys. It wasn’t him at all. 

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. It’s not okay, Xi. I’m sorry.”

“I’m the one that pushed yo-”

“Hey,” he said, cutting her off, holding both sides of her face and staring at her with a seriousness that made her go quiet. “Let’s not play the self blaming game, okay?” 

In one swoop, he lifted her off the ground and carried them over to the hammock. With Xilä straddling his lap, there was no more escaping this conversation. He was ready to face it head on and get it over with.

Neteyam’s eyes traced over his wife, taking in her features. 

Her hair was short again- shoulder length like the time she’d gotten it cut when she’d first come to Home Camp. Pointed ears twitching in concern, her brows creased, moon colored eyes focused completely on him- and damn if he always got lost in them. He hated how sad they looked tonight. 

Cupping her cheek, his thumb brushed across the thin, faded scar that held the reminder of what he feared. 

They had talked about it- the incident- years ago when it first happened. They’d talked and wrapped it up, moved on, and never brought it up again. 

And while Xilä steadily tended to her mental wounds with the help of Mo’at, Neteyam still had a deep scar that unknowingly festered over the years. 

“So-” He blew out some air. “I know it’s been years but-” he shrugged, “guess I’m not entirely over that situation.” 

Xilä cupped his cheeks, leaning forward to give him a chase kiss. “And that’s okay… I don’t think shoving the past behind us and never looking back was the healthiest way to go. I know this is tough for you, but we can work on it. Together.” 

“How?”

“By talking… We don’t have to go that deep into it tonight, but eventually we will. And eventually you’ll open up. You’ll heal and be able to let go.”

“Okay,” he rasped, palms rubbing her thighs as though trying to comfort himself. 

“For now though, what would you say I can do to make you comfortable enough to go on the trip?”

Neteyam thought about it for a moment. 

“Maybe you can stay with my parents? You and the boys... Jxo and Sal are great but- I think having my parents closer would be a little more assuring for me.”

Xi nodded. She’d dare not bring up the fact that his parents lived only a few tents away from them. “We can do that.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. They have more than enough room and I’ll still have help whenever I need it. Tuk I’m sure would be delighted to have the boys to fuss over and boss around.” 

“That too,” he said, cracking a smile. 

“Anything else?”

“I want to talk to you every day- even if it’s just for two minutes to simply hear your voice.” 

Xilä didn’t think it was possible to fall even more in love with her husband. 

Yet here he was.

Proving her wrong. 

“Maybe you can bribe Norm to let me borrow one of those handy communication things so I don’t have to walk to the labs every day.”

“That, I can definitely do, sweetheart.” 

Xi fiddled with one of his hands- a habit she’d never broken out of over the years.

“I’m truly not trying to get rid of you.”

“I know- shit. I just said that in the moment. I don’t really think that, Xi.”

She gave him a wry smile. “The truth is- and as creepy as this might sound, if it were possible, I’d crawl into your skin and never leave you.”

Neteyam laughed. He knew what she meant. Sometimes he felt the same way.

“But in the same breath, I don’t want you to live in fear because of me. It’s hampering your dreams, ‘Teyam. Your goals... Jake is getting ready to step down in a couple of years, and you’re going to be Olo'eyktan.”

She pressed a palm to his chest. 

“I am your wife. And I will stand by your side even when we disagree. But this is one thing I won’t let you slip up on. Okay?” 

“How in Eywa’s name did I get so lucky? Where did I find you?” 

Xi shrugged playfully. “In the forest screaming my head off. You killed the palulukan who was chasing after me, then whisked me away and took me to your home.”

He laughed again but this time it ended in a groan. His head fell into her neck. “A month is way too long to be away from you, baby. It takes a week alone by ikran to get to Hulanta.”

“You can ask Stevan to join the trip earlier than planned? Go by jet instead?” 

One of the main reasons for the trip anyway was to check out a massive, old RDA base that had been set up near a Hulanta village. There was apparently an entire fleet of abandoned aircrafts waiting to be fixed up and used. 

“True,” he agreed.

“So it’s settled then? You’ll go and delegate your butt off and make me and your parents and our boys proud of you?”

Neteyam nodded against her skin. “Yeah, baby. I’ll go.” He ran a thumb along the side of her stomach. “You still wanna wait till I get back to tell everyone?” 

“Mmm. I can get away with hiding my bump by wearing my longer tops and higher skirts, but if I’m going to be staying with your parents for a month, they’re bound to pick up on my morning sickness.” 

“I bet you’d want to tell your mom and sister first.”

“Yeah,” Xi confirmed.

“Are we done fighting?” Neteyam wondered after they agreed to tell their families the good news a week before he had to leave. 

“Yes,” Xi grinned, knowing why he was asking. 

She squealed when he flipped them around, sighing as his lips pressed against her neck and he slipped a knee between her thighs. 

Sometimes good things come from a fight. 

Like improved communication…

The validation of feelings… 

And mind blowing make-up sex.

~

~

On his third day at the Hulanta clan while he and Tiaru- the clan’s chief were in deep discussion as they made rounds near the tree of souls, a familiar shade of blue caught his eye. 

Neteyam blinked to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. But… he wasn’t. And in seeing the Na’vi all the more clearly, he inhaled sharply.

“What is it?” Tiaru asked, alerted by the shock on his face.

And although Neteyam was sure who she might be, he still asked…

“Who is that Li’onan woman?” 

~

Hehe... I had to throw in a little bit of a fight there. I love a good healthy communication moment honestly.

And, gasp. Who IS that Li'onan woman???

Also, you guys, Zyden is growing up? And what do we think of sweet little Hysik?

Anywhoo, see y'all in my next one! 💛

~

Tags:@jakesullyfatjuicypeen@granddearduck@riatesullironalite@strawberri-blonde@earthling55 @innercreationflower @duckworthbean @gyuventure @btsiguess-kpop@blkmystery@neteswife@luvteyams@isnt-itstrange@erenjaegerwifee@faatxma@ivysully@bakugouswaif@pinkpantheris @mntx666@ironcaptainnataliabarnes

[celli-ohs]

hubba hubba!

part two of accidentally in love! series frat boy!yeonjun x stubborn!reader; college!au, one-sided love to lovers! comedy/crack, fluff, angst, SMUT (softdom!yeonjun x sub!femreader)

ATTENTION: This chapter contains SMUT!!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! (M18+)

WARNINGS: drunk/distracted driving, mentions of drinking, foul language, oral (m&f receiving), masturbation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, daddy kink, shower sex

author's note: once again, I'm so sorry for how bad I am at writing smut 😭 this is what I get for not reading smut myself sorry y'all I really tried this time! I think I'm getting better though lmao

17. i took her to my penthouse and i freaked it (written chapter 2.5K)

Your skirt is riding up as you lean over, but you don’t seem to notice or care due to all of your attention being on Yeonjun’s cock. “Holy fuck. Slow down baby, I gotta focus.” He whines. His actions betray him though, as you feel his other hand push your head down deeper. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, and you gag, choking around him. The man in question lets out a heavenly moan in response. He releases you, and you gasp for air before diving back in, teasing by licking his shaft up and down. God he tasted so good. You’re sure your makeup is ruined, you’ve probably got lipstick all over your face with how you were practically starving for his dick, but that doesn’t seem to bother Yeonjun at all. You can hear him press on the gas, his breath labored as he tried to keep his eyes on the road and not you as you suck his tip like a lollipop. “I wanna ride you so bad Jun,” You whimper, massaging his balls as you kiss his dick. “Almost there baby girl, almost.”

Your night began when Yeonjun knocked on your apartment door. “Coming!” You shout as you speed out of your room, struggling to clip on your earring. You quickly throw open your door, and you’re immediately taken aback. Yeonjun wears nothing but a gray tank top and washed-out jeans. His hair is parted but a little messy, he probably drove with his windows down, a habit you’d learned he had, especially since it was the end of summer. But what takes you out is his eye contact. His eyes are intense, they scan all over you before connecting with your own, and he just smiles. Not his usual one, this smile was different, and you had an idea on why. “Hi,” You cough out, trying to remain calm as you smile. “Hey, wow you look amazing.” Yeonjun licks his lips. You only laugh, stepping to the side to let him in.

“Heeseung already left with the guys, I’m almost ready, I just have to change.” You say as you walk towards your room down the hall. “That’s not your outfit? You look good already,” Yeonjun says as he follows you. You laugh again, you’re wearing nothing but biker shorts and a random t-shirt from high school that was a little too small. “You’re funny. Give me a moment to change, I’ll be right out.” You tell him. “Why can’t I just come with you? I’ll close my eyes.” he sends you a suggestive smirk, one you roll your eyes at. “Yeonjun,” He grins. “I promise!” You shake your head and close the door. “No,I’ll be quick.” You tell him. As you’re searching through your closet, you can hear him humming “Toxic” by Britney Spears on the other side of the wall.

You settle on a two piece set, a matching skirt and halter top combo. You quickly slip it on, having already done your hair and makeup earlier. You’re putting your shoes on when you hear Yeonjun knock. “You ready?” He asks. “Yeah, actually can you come in? I need some help.” You announce, fixing your skirt in the mirror. “Come in? Okay…” He opens the door slowly, peeking his head through. Yeonjun acts as if he’d never been in your room before, when the last time he was here he’d taken a nap on your bed as you sewed the straps on Yujin’s dress. “Over here,” You wave to him, and he finally walks over. He lets out a low whistle as he eyes your figure. “I’m loving the fit,” He says in a low voice. “Thanks, I made it myself.” You wink at him through the mirror.

“Could you tie this for me?” You instruct, and gesture to the two loose straps hanging on your shoulders. Yeonjun jumps at the opportunity, helping you sweep your hair out of the way. His fingers ghost over the back of your neck, and you have to fight yourself from shuddering. Yeonjun takes his time tying the knot, but once he’s finished, he slides his hand gently down your back. You don’t move as he leans down, lips settling right next to your ear. “You’re so beautiful.” You can hear him smirking. You bite your lip, forcing yourself to behave. “T-Thank you.” You cough out, too embarrassed to look at him now. Usually you’d tease him right back, but with how he was looking at you right now, you were having a hard time thinking of a comeback.

As you two drove, Yeonjun’s right hand danced its way over to your thigh. Your bare skin feels as if it’s been lit on fire as his fingers drum to the beat of his radio against your plush leg. “So,” You clear your throat. “You said this was your first party in a while, right?” You try to make conversation, hoping to distract yourself from Yeonjun’s lingering fingers. “Yeah, they convinced me to let them celebrate, but to be honest, I kind of missed getting together like this.” He shrugs, eyes on the road. “I mean, a party every once in a while is nice, don’t know how you guys do it every weekend.” You admit. “It’s an acquired taste,” Yeonjun jokes. “I know a couple of the guys see it as a reward for a long week of school though,” You laugh along, you were pretty sure he was referring to Jake.

Yeonjun swiftly parks the car upon your arrival, running to open your door. “On second thought,” he mumbles as he helps you out, holding your hand. “Maybe I’d rather we head back. You look too divine to be out in public.” You chuckle, swatting him away. “We drove all the way here, let’s socialize a little.” And socialize you two did. Yeonjun practically had himself wrapped around you all night, never leaving your side. Even when his own friends would try to pry him off you, he’d stick to you like gum on a shoe. You enjoyed every minute of it, finding his clinginess not only cute, but insanely hot. “If you ever need anymore models, I’d love to volunteer, I'll even go nude.” Mingi smirks down at you as he leans against the wall for support. You find his childish attempts at flirting with you amusing.

“Fuck off Mingi, that’s my girl.” Yeonjun growls, his grip around your waist getting tighter. “Your girl? I don’t ever remember agreeing to such a thing,” You raise a brow at the man, and he bites his lip. You don’t notice Mingi slink off. “Yeah, well,” Yeonjun’s index finger slips under your chin, tipping your head back. “I was hoping you’d be mine exclusively after tonight,” His words have you shuddering, and before you know it, your beer has been discarded and replaced by Choi Yeonjun’s lips. You always had a suspicion that his lips were soft, seeing him pout almost daily when you’d poke fun at him, but you never expected Yeonjun’s lips to be as soft as a pillow.

You could taste the shots of whiskey he’d had earlier as it mixed with your strawberry lip gloss, a taste you became addicted to. His hands roam your body, pulling you closer and closer, trying to merge one another. Yeonjun suddenly pulls away, your lips trailing after him. “Jun-” “Let’s get outta here,” He’s breathless as you two run out the front door.

By some miracle, you two manage to make it inside his apartment and into his bedroom in one piece. Yeonjun pushes you onto his mattress, you're already spent but you only crave him more. “Take off your clothes.” He orders, standing at the edge of the bed. You comply, too horny to even feel embarrassed as you strip yourself in front of him. Yeonjun’s eyes are glazed over as you lay back down on his bed, completely nude for him to ravish. “God you’re so fucking hot,” He groans, throwing his tank top over his head and fumbling to remove his jeans. “I need you Yeonjun, please-” You begin to whine, playing with yourself as he finally frees himself of his clothes. “Don’t touch yourself,” He commands, and you hold your breath as you remove your hand.

“You said you wanted to ride, show me how you like to ride baby girl,” He teases, kissing you harshly before shoving you aside to lay against his headrest. “I wanna ride you, ride your cock, so good,” You’re babbling, unable to contain yourself as you hover over his erect dick . You’re sopping wet, dripping your essence all over Yeonjun before finally sinking down on his cock. He moans right into your titty, mouth latched onto your perky nipple. You gasp for air, not expecting his dick to stretch your insides so satisfyingly. You begin to move slowly, up and down, rising and falling. Every time your ass slammed against his thighs, you cried out, he was just too big yet you couldn’t get enough. “Too slow,” Yeonjun mumbles against your skin.

He holds you up, allowing him to piston up into you. You’re wailing in pleasure, gripping onto his shoulders for dear life. You cum for the first time that night riding Yeonjun. As your pussy spasms, you collapse on top of him, energy spent as Yeonjun flips you over. “I’m not done yet baby, don’t get tired now,” He smiles, swiping a stray hair from your face as you pant. Now you lay beneath him, legs wide open. “Wanna taste you while you’re still fresh,” Yeonjun murmurs, yet you don’t realize what he’s meant until his head is stuck between your thighs. You might break his skull with how tight you’re squeezing, but luckily Yeonjun finds this an honorable way to go.

Still he pries your legs open, not wanting to waste a drop of you. You claw at his sheets, crying out his name. “Jun- Yeonjun please-!” You just came minutes ago, you could only handle so much. But he’s a determined man, he’s not leaving your legs until you come one more time. His tongue laps against your folds, sucking and rubbing against your clit. You grab his head, fucking yourself against his face, something he never knew he’d love so much. “I’m gonna-“ You don’t even finish your sentence, cumming instantly. Yeonjun drinks you up as your high slowly falls, you’re moaning loudly, hips still rolling.

“One more baby girl.” Yeonjun smiles as you release him from your death grip. You let him flip you around once more, you lay on your stomach. He’s placed a pillow under your abdomen, raising your ass towards him. “That’s it, let daddy take care of you baby.” He groans into your ear as he leans down to push his thick cock into your pussy once more. You whimper as he begins to thrust, taking a steady pace. “You feel so good, tightest little pussy.” Yeonjun begins to kiss your back. “Fuck I can’t get enough of you.” He’s been dying to cum if he were being honest. You just make the prettiest noises, and wrap around his dick oh so perfectly. But he wanted to enjoy you for even longer.

He can tell you’re already close with how you’re panting, your pussy gripping even tighter than before. So he grabs you, standing you up. Your back is to his chest, he forcibly turns your head towards him, giving him access to your lips. He kisses you with so much passion, his dick pumping in and out of you in a fever. You were well over stimulated yet couldn’t even push him away if you wanted to, his hands held both of your wrists. “I’m close baby, gonna cum.” Yeonjun mumbles against your lips. You nod, trembling. “Cum in me.” His eyes light up. “You want me to cum in you, my pretty baby? Wanna become a mommy?” His lips trail down to your neck, his hips never failing to slow down.

“Need you to cum in me, please- I want you cum in me daddy!” You whine, breaths getting more rapid as Yeonjun’s pace speeds up. “Gonna make you feel so good, gonna get you pregnant with my baby.” He begins to ramble, and now he’s coming undone. He lets go of one of your arms, his hand slips down to your clit, and he begins to rub as he pistons into you. You cum almost immediately, your orgasm taking over your entire body. Your moans fill his room, his apartment. You’re convulsing around his cock, he can’t take it any more. “Gonna cum-!” He chokes. “Please please please please please plea-“ You gasp as Yeonjun groans into your ear, filling you up, pump by pump.

Yeonjun lets you down onto the bed gently, your breath ragged as you lay against his sheets. You feel him slip out of you, his cum oozing out of your hole. You’re so out of it, you barely feel Yeonjun kneel down and give your ass a kiss. “So pretty, all for me to see.” He chuckles. You hear him leave the room, a few seconds later he comes back. He’s wiping you down with a towel. “I’m so hot and sticky,” You grimace as you flip around to sit up. “Wanna take a shower? Let me turn it on for you.” Yeonjun says, before caressing your face and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You are amazing, thank you.” You sigh and smile. You lay back down as he leaves for the bathroom.

Moments later you find yourself under the cool water, covered in sudsy bubbles, and bouncing on top of Yeonjun’s dick again. “You’re an active one.” He jokes as you have your head tucked into the crook of his neck, arms thrown over his shoulders. “Shut up, you started this.” You groan, now embarrassed. “Well baby, what did you expect when I got in with you?” He asks, smirking at you. You glare, and decide to shut him up with a kiss. “Just fuck me.” You threaten. “Love to.” He teases, taking control once more by picking you up, and moving you to his own pace. You throw your head back in pleasure. You feel even tighter, warmer than earlier, sex with you is mind blowing.

Yeonjun doesn’t even warn you when he cums this time, he just does. Pushing you up against the wall, he fiercely kisses you. You can feel his cock throb inside of you as he sets you back down onto your feet. You savor his lips as the two of you wrap your arms around each other under the shower. Suddenly, Yeonjun pulls away, he rubs his thumb across your lips. “I love you.” He suddenly confesses, his eyes pouring his love and soul into you as he stares. You smile and sigh, leaning into his touch. “Let’s wash up, yeah?” Yeonjun gives you a cheesy smile, as if he expected this to be your answer, and nods. In hushed whispers and laughter, you two help each other clean up.

Bonus:

whenever Yeonjun has a girl over, Beomgyu and Kai stay at Taehyun's and Soobin's apartment

they all gather to shit on Yeonjun (bonding moment!)

Yeonjun was so busy eyefucking Y/n at the party, he forgot all about Felix's cake he made for him

Mingi was not joking about the nude modeling

Yeonjun and Y/n were at the party for only 40 minutes before they dipped

previous | next

hubba hubba! masterlist

taglist (open): @justandloyal2961 @hoonatic @emosakumas @ancnymcnzjy @gomdoleemyson @yamsinthetaso

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 21

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏����𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending, but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence, sex explicit, voyeurism.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind, and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

NOAH

My restless fingers wouldn’t stop drumming on the wooden bar table for even a minute. Everyone around me was dividing their time between laughter and more shots of tequila, but since I arrived, I’d only watched the ice melt in my glass, barely touching my water, so inert in agonizing thoughts that boiled my brain like a cauldron.

“Did you hear what I said, Noah?” Ruffilo nudged my arm, snapping me out of it and reminding me to release my lips from between my teeth.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” I asked, narrowing my eyes slightly.

“Forget it.” He rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the others. “It seems like your mind’s somewhere else.”

And it definitely was, though I didn’t think it was so obvious.

“Sorry.”

“Man, we just won three major awards for the band, and even in a moment like this, you can’t relax and enjoy it with us. When was the last time we did something together?” he protested, grabbing my attention again. “You don’t even remember, since you can barely stay in the same room with us for more than five minutes.”

Having this kind of conversation while I couldn’t even focus on the general topic at the table seemed ridiculous. Every mental path led me back to her—how she was dressed, how her perfume filled my senses when she moved near me, how she teased me with her tone of voice. She could be anywhere in this damned city, and I needed desperately to find her.

“Give me the car keys,” I demanded, snapping out of my trance, clenching my fingers tightly in the palm of my hand. Ruffilo stared at me, flexing his lips with mild disappointment at my lack of attention to his earlier speech, but I just couldn’t help it.

I felt on the brink of collapse, my body temperature fluctuating wildly, and my breathing failing miserably. If I didn’t see her now, I might explode.

“Noah, you’re not well.”

“Give me the keys now!” I growled, clenching my fists so tightly I heard a bone crack.

Shaking his head slowly, he pulled the keys out of his pocket and tossed them to me. I stood up promptly, hearing murmurs behind me—questions about where I was going. Ruffilo spared himself the trouble of extending the conversation and shifted the topic as soon as I walked out of the bar.

The cold night air hit me, but it did nothing to cool the fire burning inside me. My heart felt like it was about to burst through my skin, every muscle in my body tense and rigid, as though bracing for a fight. I started the car with a rush that barely made sense, my hands slipping on the steering wheel from the sweat.

I had no plan. No idea where she could be. But I had to find her. It was as if something greater than myself was pushing me forward. It wasn’t just a need; it was like a fever, a corrosive sensation that refused to relent.

I drove through the city like a madman, hitting the speed limit, passing every bar, every corner, every damned place I knew she might be. My eyes darted frantically from one point to another, hungry, desperate. The steering wheel groaned under the pressure of my grip, but I couldn’t let go. I couldn’t calm down.

Every detail about her was etched into me like a curse. Her scent, her laughter, the way she played with her hair. Even now, it all seemed ingrained in my brain, mocking me, calling me to keep searching.

I stopped at a red light, the engine humming as I tapped my fingers impatiently on the dashboard. My reflection stared back at me from the rearview mirror: red eyes, clenched jaw, an almost unhinged expression. What the hell was happening to me?

When the light turned green, I sped off, ignoring the speed limit sign. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except her. Every street seemed longer than it should have been; every bar where she wasn’t left an unbearable void. The collar of my shirt felt suffocating.

Finally, I turned onto a narrow side street that seemed to lead nowhere. I parked carelessly and stepped out of the car, body tense, breathing heavy. My eyes scanned the area as if she might appear at any moment.

I could end this madness now and go home, but I heard a distant sound, as if coming from a few streets away. The beat of the music reminded me of live industrial metal. Maybe she was there.

The bar, with no visible name thanks to a broken, unlit sign, was a well-known biker club in the city. I’d looked it up on the way and found out that big MCs gathered there daily to drink and listen to old-school rock. The place reeked of beer, the music was deafening, and the brick walls were covered with band posters. It didn’t take much to realize I completely stood out among the bearded patrons in leather vests and gold teeth.

The entire time I wandered around, there was no sign of her. Restlessness settled at the top of my throat as I sat down at a table, overheating while my head filled with scattered thoughts.

She was fucking hot, and five seconds in this place would be enough to attract every pair of eyes to her and her body exposed by that sheer dress.

“Noah?” A friendly voice cut through my thoughts, making me look up at the waitress smiling as she placed a bottle of whiskey and a glass on the table. “It’s from the lady over there.”

I turned my head slowly to the other side of the bar, and there she was—the devil herself.

Smiling, sitting cross-legged on a pool table, just having won a game against the men gathered around her. She waved at me with wicked mockery, raising her glass in a toast, clearly reading the furious expression on my face as I saw each of them ogling her body—my body—with hungry eyes and malicious smiles.

The ease with which she received those admiring looks disturbed me beyond reason, because I was as bewitched as they were. I couldn't see anything else around me; I was drowning in how stupidly beautiful she looked with her hair swept to the side and her bright eyes lined with dark makeup, making them look like a cat's.

Our sips of whiskey were synchronized, and we watched each other through the glass of our drinks. Judging by her bold demeanor, I figured this wasn’t her first round. The music grew louder, and if my attention weren’t entirely locked on her, I might have known more about who the singer was. But I felt an overwhelming need to monitor her every move, fighting the urge to choke anyone who tilted their head to watch her pass.

Her body on the pool table moved sensually to the music, every motion seemingly calculated to set my sanity on fire. From behind the table, I watched helplessly—just as she wanted. My bottle was already half-empty, and I gripped my glass so tightly it was on the verge of shattering in my hands, while the filthy expressions on the guys' faces grew more intense as they slipped notes at her feet.

Her hips swayed slowly from side to side, rising and falling effortlessly as she glanced at me over her shoulder, intensifying the pressure in my pants and the urge to gouge out my own eyes with every second of this torment.

I lost focus for more than two seconds, running my restless hand over my face, and when I looked back at her, some guy was sliding his hand along her leg. The fun of the game ended when I downed the last sip of my drink, emptied the bottle, and slammed the glass onto the table.

I rose abruptly from my chair and stormed toward the distracted girl, her eyes closed, yanking her off the pool table with a swift, violent motion. Grabbing her body with my free hand, I threw her over my shoulder.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she yelled as I carried her toward the back of the bar. She beat her hands against my back, and I felt my ribs vibrate with the effort she was putting in, but my rage was greater.

Once we were far enough from the noise of the bar, in the bathroom corridor, I set her back on the floor, but not without cornering her against the wall to prevent her escape.

“Every time you act crazy, I’ll act insane. That’s how you like to play, isn’t it?” I snarled, gripping her chin and pressing our noses together. “Don’t ever do that again. Do you hear me, damn it?”

It felt as if the last shred of sanity I had had turned to dust. Her eyes opened, surprised, for a few seconds. She saw something in my face that made her shoulders slowly relax, her breathing uneven.

“So you found me…” she said innocently, her fingertips teasingly tracing the line of my arm. Her voice was hoarse, alluring, and suggestive.

“You could’ve hidden on the other side of the world, and I still would’ve sniffed you out like a damn animal until I found you,” I assured her, brushing our faces together slowly. “I always find you.”

“Looks like you’ve won this round.”

“Want to watch me win the next?”

I used a near-whispering tone, carving my words into her skin with my lips as punctuation. Her chest rose and fell subtly; she didn’t want to give in easily, but her body told another story.

“Are you willing to wager the biggest bet at the table, sir?”

She challenged me with a sharp smile on her rosy lips.

“What’s your price?”

“All-in.”

“All my chips?” I raised an eyebrow at her audacity.

“Playing fair doesn’t suit us, Noah…”

My hand slid from her face to the back of her neck, gripping her hair and tilting her head upward. I traced the tip of my nose from her shoulder to her neck, inhaling her scent as if I needed it to keep living. Truth be told, I did.

“That’s the price to have me as yours for one hour.”

Our gazes locked, and within her dilated pupils, I saw the reason for my downfall. She was hell in the form of a woman, my sickness, my torment, my damn contradiction, and the reason I wanted to become worse each day, just to be someone worthy of her.

But I had never felt more alive than when I had her in my arms.

She was mine.

My answer was to press our lips together in a hungry, voracious kiss. My body burned with urgency to have her again, desperate, famished, willing to do anything not to ruin this again. The taste of her lips, still the same green apple flavor, seemed better, warmer, just like the friction of our bodies as I pressed her against the wall, lifting the fabric of her dress.

Our steps tangled as we entered the bar bathroom, leaving the sound of the music as an echo in the background. I used the momentum to sit her on the counter, fitting my body between her legs as her nimble hands wasted no time ripping my shirt open, buttons flying everywhere.

My lips struggled to leave hers, even for a few seconds, and with a disbelieving smile, she realized my free hand and teeth had joined forces to tear the thin fabric of her dress in two, exposing her perfect body, goosebumps forming from the breeze sneaking through the vent.

I pulled a joint from my pocket and placed it between my lips as she flicked the lighter to ignite it. After a few drags, the bathroom was nothing but smoke, camouflaging the pair of men leaning against a stall, watching us.

We shared the smoke as I exhaled it over her lips, passing the joint to her. With every puff, my lips trailed down the length of her body, making her arch her back when I alternated kisses with bites that left marks on her skin. The heat between her legs revealed my approach, and as I positioned one of them over my shoulder, I traced a path, marking from her thigh to her groin.

Her scent was the finest antidote. She was so aroused that her wetness seeped through the sides of her thin panties, which I pushed aside with the help of my finger. The gasps escaping her lips, mixed with the smoke, fused with the sighs of her attentive eyes watching my tongue slowly trace along her inner thigh, getting acquainted with the area as it brushed against her labia.

With one hand, I pressed her down further, pinning her against my face while dragging my tongue slowly upward, my fingers digging into the side of her body before sliding over her ass. I explored the surroundings, deliberately avoiding her clit, torturing her with the slow rhythm of my teasing tongue. Using my free hand, I spread her legs further, moving my fingers to stimulate the narrow space between her first and second entrances.

Applying pressure, I palmed her ass to keep her from squirming under the urging of my fingers and dove headfirst into the well of arousal her pussy carried. I alternated between soft suction and hungry licks, dragging my lips side to side.

I spared her nothing; I wanted to feel everything. From the intoxicating scent she exuded as her excitement grew under the assault of my tongue exploring every corner of her hot, wet pussy, to the sound of her moans, urgent and pleading under the slow rhythm of my fingers.

My eyes were fixed on her, on the effort she made to keep control as my finger slid toward her second entrance, forcing it in while she muffled her moan with another drag from the joint. I captured her clit with a suck and began to swirl my tongue over it, pressing deeper inside her with my finger.

I had to pin her body to the stone counter with the hand gripping her waist, her visible restlessness betraying her as I started to fuck her ass with my finger, all while keeping my tongue swirling relentlessly on her clit.

“Fuck, Noah…” she sobbed, trying to close her legs.

The escalating moans fueled my desperation to devour her more frantically. I buried my face in the fresh pool of juice forming around her, sucking and drinking her liquid while holding my finger steady at the peak of her excitement. Her back stiffened, and her legs around my shoulders spasmed, her moans growing louder and more erratic as I added another finger inside her pussy, fucking both entrances at once.

The only sounds, aside from her nails scratching the firm material of the counter, were the breaths of the men watching us from the shadows.

We didn’t care about being watched; I dare say we might have even liked it. I wanted them to see that everything before them belonged to me. That moan was mine, that body was mine, that pussy dripping onto my lips was mine, and this damn woman was mine, too.

Like the good girl she was, she avoided eye contact with them, focusing all her attention on me. But deep down, she enjoyed being worshiped—and she deserved it.

The rhythm followed the tension in her body, and the closer she got to her climax, the more pressure I applied with my fingers, teasing her with deliberate halts at the crest. Hearing her whimper was like music to my ears. I reversed the swirl of my tongue, smirking as her head tilted back as if pleading with the heavens.

I wasn’t ready to let her come just yet, so I pulled away from her clit as I withdrew my fingers from inside her. I licked my lips, savoring her taste, corrupting the remaining shred of sanity I had left. The growl I heard from her betrayed her frustration; she wanted more. I didn’t let that feeling linger as I dragged her off the counter by her legs and turned her around.

Facing our reflections simultaneously in the mirror, I let my hands roam her body, pressing my face against her skin until she tilted her head to the side. As I kissed her shoulder, I opened my eyes and noticed something different. I quickly dismissed the thought, moving my lips up to her neck, guiding her forward by gripping her hair at the nape.

With my free hand, I spread her legs apart, lifting one onto the counter until she was fully exposed to me. My cock throbbed against the fabric of my jeans as I stroked it and slowly pressed the tip against her entrance, eliciting a soft gasp.

My lips grazed the side of her face as I held the base of her hair tightly, my desire-crazed gaze locked onto her reflection.

“Look at your reflection in the mirror. What does it tell you?” I whispered so only she could hear.

I teased her by pushing the tip of my cock into her entrance, then pulling it out just as quickly, smirking at the sound of her disappointed moan.

“That you’re mine, mine, mine, mine. And no decree from heaven or hell will change that. I don’t need to go all-in for what already belongs to me. Do you know why?”

“Because you can,” she declared, her voice a breathy whisper.

"I can," I ground out, my words wrenching a loud moan from her lips as I drove into her all at once.

Our bodies were fused as one with the long thrust I held for a few seconds, savoring her sob of agony. The hand gripping the roots of her hair dragged her sweaty face to brush against mine while my hips drove into hers. I stifled her moan with a desperate kiss, devouring her swollen, tender lips, slightly bruised from bites.

All control slipped from me as I felt her grinding on my cock, turning the back-and-forth into a dance synchronized with the rhythm of our united bodies, evolving gradually as she threw me that deranged look while halting the head of my cock at her tight entrance. Her teasing drew a ragged breath from me, echoing into her ear, urging her to continue. Her body was completely exposed over the mirror, yet her shimmering gaze remained locked on mine. In the edge of my peripheral vision, I noticed her fingers moving to her pussy, stimulating her clit as she took my thrusts.

"I hate the devil who sculpted your body," I declared hoarsely. "I thank him for the blessing of having created you, but I hate him for having touched you."

"He made me intentionally to corrupt the purest of heaven. I see no goodness left in you, Noah," she said in a soft tone of denial. "I warned you I’d taint your soul by being the first and last woman of your life."

I explored her body with my hand, leaving no place untouched. I traced the texture of her thigh, ridged with deep scars. I warmed myself in the heat she emitted as my hand traveled up her abdomen, cupping her full, firm breast that spilled over the sides of my fingers.

"The thing is, I was never a good man. I’m just a dirty player," I murmured, trailing the path from her neck to her ear with my wet lips. "Like you."

"Then tell me, what will you do to the eyes that watch the woman who’s yours once this game is over?"

The unique scent of her skin made me transcend.

Transcend directly into hell.

For a moment, I had forgotten about the two guys watching us silently, leaning against the bathroom tiles not far away. Through the mirror's reflection, I saw their eyes alternating between us, but something began to heat the back of my neck as I noticed their focus lingering on her and the motion of her fingers.

"I’ll kill them."

Her pussy grew even slicker at the icy tone of my voice, her rising body temperature giving her exactly what she wanted at her feet.

A strange feeling gnawed at me—something that burned like hatred and cut like jealousy. Possession clouded my vision, reducing everything to a dark blur as I lost control of the force driving my cock into her pussy. My pounding thrusts arched her back, her head leaning onto my chest, but even her moans didn’t break the trance hardening every muscle in my body.

Ignoring the throbbing pain in my arm as I pinned her side to our hips, I tilted her body further down. Her sharp nails clawed into my skin, and as my lips traveled across her shoulders, I sank my teeth in, channeling the strength of my relentless thrusts slamming into her womb.

Her moans were precise and sweetly pained but muffled by the tiles and the tiny window that barely ventilated the cramped room. Our attention met in the corner of her eyes, smudged with dark makeup. She gasped, her chest heaving erratically, her trembling legs barely holding under the strain.

I was close to exploding too, though I couldn’t tell if it was from lust, rage, or both.

Without pulling out, I shifted her body to face me. She quickly locked her legs around me, burying her fingers in my hair, pulling away slightly to use the momentum to slam her body against mine as I plunged in and out under her command. My hands palmed her ass in the air, taking control of her movements to deepen each thrust until the sound of our sweaty skin slapping against each other filled the room as I forced myself deeper into her.

The walls of her pussy clenched so tightly around me that I stared at the wooden ceiling for a few seconds while she tilted my head back, halting the motion to grind on the head of my cock, bouncing on it. My breath hitched as her lips alternated between wet kisses and sucking, trailing from my neck to my tense jawline, locking our eyes again.

The reddish hue in her eyes from the lingering haze only enhanced the brilliance of her black tourmaline gaze. The deeper I went, against the tight pressure of her pussy gripping me involuntarily, slamming her back against the sink’s edge, the more her eyes widened, amplifying the sound of her moans.

From the exaggerated digging of her nails into my back, she was on the verge of collapse, her legs losing strength under the tremors wracking her. The agonizing tension in her body made her press our faces together, seeking any spark as she whimpered, clinging even tighter to me.

My muscles grew even more rigid every time I drove into her, and with one swift motion, I grabbed her nape with one hand and took her lips to stifle her cries with my tongue amidst the relentless thrusts. The shifts in rhythm made her retaliate against my skin and lips, but the sting of her nails tearing into my shoulder only fueled my determination to keep pulsing inside her.

Our lips parted, and her eyes, now with dilated pupils, locked onto mine. Her breathing started to steady as her body softened.

She sighed in relief, playing with the tip of my nose.

"What are you doing?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow as I felt her pull me out of her.

"Your time is up and I'm done."

"But not me!"

"That sounds like your problem, but jerking off should solve it."

Damn her.

Just like that, she treated me like a prostitute—and not even the expensive kind executives shell out big bucks for. She paid me with a spiked whiskey, fucked me, grabbed my jacket from the sink, put it on before hopping down, and flipped me off through the mirror as she backed toward the exit.

"Enjoyed watching me win this round, Noah?" she teased. "Bye, boys."

Our score was tied, and that wasn’t going to stand.

I took a deep breath, keeping my head low and hands pressed against the edge of the sink. An unearthly rage settled in my gut, spreading through my body as I caught the muttering of the two guys behind me. I dragged my fingers across the marble, thinking fast and forcing myself to adjust my expression while straightening my clothes.

With a seductive sideways smile and slow steps, I clasped my hands behind me for show, reclaiming the lewd gazes from the bar’s patrons.

"Did you like the show, boys?"

The two exchanged glances, perhaps seeing an opportunity, their sly grins widening. The older one ran his fingers through his red beard while the other scratched his goatee, their eyes darting between me and each other.

Luckily for me, they were short—no match for someone towering over them like I was.

"The girl’s got skills, but you—"

I had to fight the urge to let the drink churn back up from my stomach. Before the redhead could take a step forward, I held them in place, running my hands slowly through their hair, alternating a gentle gaze between the two like a damn tease.

"I’m glad you liked it, because that’s the last thing you’ll ever see."

I didn’t give myself time to worry about their puzzled expressions as I used the momentum to smash their heads simultaneously into the water valve behind them, leaving them slumped on the floor with a streak of blood smeared on the wall.

"Bye, boys," I waved with a smile that narrowed my eyes.

I left the bar clutching my right arm, the pain now unbearable as my adrenaline cooled. Digging through my pocket for my phone, I noticed something was missing. As I rummaged through the fabric, realization hit—my wallet was gone.

She swiped my wallet as she passed me.

I dialed the three numbers as fast as my steps toward the car and held the phone against my shoulder, running my hands through my hair when I saw my car wasn’t where I had parked it.

"Hello, is this the police?" I huffed the words, my face hot with anger. "I’d like to report a stolen car from a biker bar. No, the vehicle doesn’t have plates; the thief ripped them off before taking off."

"Can you provide a description?"

"Tall, tattooed, dark-haired, lips swollen from artificial fillers, and definitely pushing the speed limit with that Joker face all smeared with makeup," I described, plopping down on the curb and blowing stray hair from my face.

"Of the car, sir."

"Oh, it’s a graphite-colored Jaguar."

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lma1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline​ ; @just-randomm-stuff

[doe-prince]

I love Golden Shrike! I've had my own comic idea for about a decade now, but I'm wondering, for you, how long did it take you to be confident enough with your art to start your comics? had you attempted panels and backgrounds earlier and didn't put them out because you weren't happy with them yet? I'm almost done with my characters and writing but I'm worried I'm not good enough to actually start doing panels

(these are just my views and experiences! there's as many approaches as there's artists)

I was BAD when I started comics, but then I again I was a kid who didn't care if my bunny-cat-digimon comics weren't good enough, it was just fun to do. Which is what it should still be, fun and a fulfillment to you. I think the happiest an artisit can be is when they can draw like they have no audience.

My comics stopped in my teenhood when I actually wanted to make something good. I made so much groundwork but VERY rarely got to the actual page production because I thought everything should be perfect, but we all know there's no such thing. When I noticed all my attempts were doomed, I stopped making them for like ten years until I was zapped with Fuck It We Ball-mentality. And it's the best thing that has happened to me. Childhood whimsy. Make your own toys.

Did I make test pages for Golden Shrike before starting production? Well, the first page of the comic is a test page. And the second page. And the whole first chapter. I just never stopped. Not smart but it's what works for me. Starting these 'test pages' has kickstarted two bigger comics for me, Golden Shrike and Jet and Harley.

Sure I made couple of style tests for GS even though I had a clear visual vision from the start, but Jet and Harley I just started to draw without any real practice pieces, just based on couple of CSP brushes I wanted to use. This isn't very smart as you'll likely find out later that MAN, this style takes too much effort, but if you're unlike me and don't care so much for consistency, you can always simplify it on the fly. And even I've had to change it: I stopped shading after chapter 5, briefly used 3D assets in upcoming pages, now I'm gonna shrink the font a little. They're teeny tiny things for readers, but huge for me.

There's many comic authors who like to plan every little detail before getting to work, but it doesn't work for me so I can't say much about it. I have a skeleton to follow, but I fully flesh out each chapter one by one when I reach them with pages, because I like to revisit my old visions with fresh brains. When you actually get to work, you might realize some scenes aren't needed, or they'd be better changed. Don't be scared to crack some ribs off your story skeleton. Being too loyal to your old vision can often hinder you.

Starting production is the biggest monster in comic making, but after the first step you'll mow over it leaving it in your dust and create a baby you can be so proud of. I wish you, and everyone else on the cusp of their projects GOOD LUCK, HAVE FUN, LOVE YOUR WORK.

[daydreamtofiction]

The Feature XIX // Benedict Cumberbatch x Reader

Series Overview | Previous Part | Next Part

Chapter Summary: (Female Reader) Apparently I don't know how to write summaries for this story anymore lmao. Anyway, Quinn and Ben are back, woo.

Chapter Word Count: 3.3K

Chapter Warnings: Morally-grey reader, strong language, adult and sexual themes. Readers must be 18+

A/N: Welcome back my dudes 😛 Here's a lil chappy chap to get us all back into the swing of things. I know it's been a lifetime since this story went on hiatus, so please feel free to go to the series overview for the entire contents page if you need a little refresher. Thank you to everyone still here and supporting me & this story. 🤍

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The media always made dating a celebrity seem so appealing; the red carpets and designer gowns, romantic getaways in private jets and secret rendezvous' shrouded in luxury and mystique. But you were failing to see the glamour in hauling your overnight bag on a train to Kent in the middle of a rainstorm. Sitting in a cramped carriage that smelled of stale coffee and wet dog, surrounded by screaming toddlers and men with the inability to keep their legs together. 

You stared out of the window as the countryside passed in a blur of greens and greys, wondering when exactly the sparkle of being involved with an A-list actor would reveal itself. Would you find it in the dodgy train station sandwiches or the spotty phone signal? In the pockets of your rain-sodden parka or the man asking for spare change as he roamed the aisle? 

 You hadn't seen Ben in weeks since he'd began filming a new movie. And though he'd only been an hour outside of London the whole time, the long hours and his demanding schedule meant that he might as well have been on the other side of the world. You'd talked when you could; brief texts and quick calls that barely skimmed the surface of what you both really wanted to say. So when he invited you to visit him on location, you'd taken little persuading. Though boarding a busy train to Kent wasn't exactly akin to jetting off to some secluded beach resort. 

The train rolled to a stop at the station. You waited as the carriage emptied, passengers practically climbing over one another to get off, a new person blocking your way every time you attempted to slip out from your seat. When you finally saw an opening, you muscled your way into the aisle and reached for your bag in the overhead luggage rack. But it was caught on something, refusing to budge, even as you hung from the handle with your entire body weight like a child dangling from a monkey bar. You looked up at the extremely tall man waiting to get off behind you, glaring at him as he watched on impatiently without ever offering you a hand.

You finally got it free, hoisting it over your shoulder and stepping off the train onto a bleak platform; cracked pavement, a single lamppost flickering against the dusky sky, and an inexplicably large puddle that stretched across the entire exit. You tried to hop over it, but it was too wide, rainwater flooding your trainers and soaking the ankles of your jeans. 

"Fabulous," you muttered sarcastically to yourself. 

The rain hadn't yielded. If anything, it seemed to grow heavier as you stood beneath the shelter of the station, looking down at your phone and trying to make sense of the directions Ben sent you earlier.

Take a left out of the station, follow the main road and look for signs to The Mocketts. It's not too far.

Easy enough, you thought. Or at least it would have been if your feet weren't squelching in your shoes, if the main road didn't turn into a complex maze of winding lanes and hedgerows that all looked the same in the bad weather and diminishing daylight. You pulled up your hood, though it was an entirely futile act; the rain already bleeding through your coat, your hair clinging to your face as you squinted up at the faded road signs, none of which seemed to match the directions Ben had given you. 

As you trudged down the narrow, muddy road, you wondered why you'd agreed to this at all; why you hadn't just told him to make the drive back to London to visit you, why going to him seemed like such a good idea when all it had gotten you was a runny nose, ruined shoes and a spot on the missing persons' register when you inevitably disappeared down a ditch somewhere. 

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You took it out, wiping the rain away from the screen to read the message. 

Are you close?  It read. 

Depends, you replied with wet, numb fingers. If by 'close' you mean standing in the middle of nowhere with no clue where I am then yes, I'm very close.

The phone began to ring a few seconds later. 

"Why didn't you call a cab?" he asked. 

"Because you said it wasn't far so I assumed I could walk," you replied, sniffing and wiping away the rain dripping off the end of your nose. "Now I'm so lost I wouldn't even know where to ask a cab to pick me up." 

"Right, just... stay where you are. I'll come and find you." 

You looked around, trying to find some kind of landmark. But all you saw were puddles, hedges and a single cow in a distant field. "I refuse to die in fucking Kent, Ben."

He chuckled down the phone, the sound providing you a slight comfort. "Did you make any turns off the main road?" 

"I don't think so." 

"Okay, don't move, I'll be as quick as I can." 

You stood on the side of the road for what felt like an eternity, teeth chattering, body tensing against the cold. Whenever a car would zoom past, you would hold your breath for a moment, letting it out again in a deflated sigh when it carried on past you. 

Eventually, a set of bright headlights appeared around the bend, a big 4x4 splashing through puddles with its huge tyres as it rolled to a stop beside you. The passenger window lowered, revealing Ben's concerned face peering out at you. 

"Get in!" he shouted, his voice barely audible over the white noise of the storm. 

You yanked open the door and climbed in, soiling the pristine interior in mud and rain as you heaved your bag over your shoulder into the back seat. Ben leaned over to kiss you, but you were too busy peeling off your coat to respond, the warm air blowing from the grates in the dashboard onto your freezing skin. 

He watched you battle with the wet fabric, a blend of amusement and pity on his face. "Rough journey?" he asked, unable to hold back a smirk.

You glared at him as you finally freed yourself from the coat and threw it into the back with your bag, waiting for him to make a joke about your appearance, your lack of navigation skills. But instead he simply reached out, gently stroking the hair out of your face. 

"I'm sorry," he said. "I should've just come and picked you up from the station." 

You sighed, sinking back into the heated leather seat. "It's fine. I shouldn't have thought I could walk it." 

He smiled, tilting his head slightly to look at you. 

"What?" you asked. 

"Nothing. Just... Hi."

"Hi," you replied softly, finally allowing a smile of your own. 

He leaned in again, and this time you accepted his kiss; the warmth of his lips a stark contrast to the dreary, miserable day you'd endured. 

He was staying in a cottage on a stretch of vast, green farmland, and you couldn't help but frown as the Jeep rolled over the uneven ground towards it; more mud, wonderful. You looked around as he drove, searching for the set; the studio, trailers, cameras, crew. But there was nothing besides fields and trees, barns and cottages. 

"I'm not staying on the set," he said with a laugh, as though he'd read your mind. 

"Just thought it'd all be a bit less... rural," you replied with a shrug. 

"I like the privacy. Plus, we're only filming about ten minutes that way. You can come with me tomorrow if you'd like, I'll give you a little tour." 

He parked up and you climbed out, grimacing at the smell of manure and damp earth, wondering why he couldn't have taken a job somewhere like Fiji or The Seychelles instead. He grabbed your bag and coat from the back seat, ushering you out of the rain towards to the cottage. When he let you inside, you breathed a sigh of relief, the dry, warm house like a safe haven.

He put your things down near the door and switched on a light, turning to look down at you with his hands on his hips. You'd somehow failed to properly take in his appearance until now, as though the chaos and discomfort of your journey had clouded your perception. 

"Nice pornstache," you teased, reaching up and running a finger over the hair adorning his top lip.

He rolled his eyes. "Thanks. No, that's great, cheers." 

You giggled as he walked away from you. "What? I like you with facial hair." 

He gave a cynical hum, making his way towards the stairs. 

"Where are you going?" you asked. 

"To run you a bath." 

"Oh, you don't have to do that." 

He turned to look at you, his eyes slowly trailing you from head to toe.

You looked down at yourself, at the clothes sticking to your body like a second skin and trainers caked in mud, the puddle that had formed on the wooden floor beneath you. "Okay, fair enough." 

He breathed a soft laugh. "Come on." 

"Will you get in it with me?" you asked as he climbed a few steps.

He turned, looking down at you with a smirk. "Nice try." 

You huffed, bending down to take off your shoes and socks and leaving them by the door before following him upstairs. 

The cottage was bigger than it seemed from the outside, yet still cozy, with thick carpets and charming olde worlde features. You walked towards the sound of running water, a steamy warmth and clean, soapy aroma. You pushed the bathroom door open to find him leaning over a deep, clawfoot tub, pouring bubblebath into the stream as it flowed from the tap. And for the first time all day, you felt your muscles relax. 

He glanced up at you as you began to undress, letting your jeans fall to the floor and peeling your top over your head. His eyes lingered on your body, his gaze darkening as you unclipped your bra to reveal your breasts, hooked your thumbs into the elastic of your underwear and slid it down over your hips. It was satisfying to know that his desire still existed; that while he was staying strong in his refusal to go further than a kiss, the hunger remained. 

You stood naked in the doorway, watching as he rose to his full height and cleared his throat.

"I'll leave a towel out for you," he said. 

"You sure you don't want to join me?" you replied. 

He inhaled a deep breath, letting it out slowly with a slight smile. "I'm sure." 

"Because I've really missed you." You crossed the small bathroom, taking his wrists in your hands and sliding them around your waist. 

"I've missed you too." 

You reached up, weaving your fingers into the back of his hair and pressing your lips to his neck. "Don't you want to show me how much you've missed me?" 

"Quinn..." he warned, a soft growl in his voice. 

"What harm would it do?" You raised up onto your toes, moving your kisses to his jaw, his mouth. "To just do it... Once?" 

He was losing his resolve, you could feel it in the firmness of his grasp, how his fingers pressed into your skin as he began to return your kisses between heavy breaths. 

"It doesn't have to be purely... physical," you pressed, keeping your voice soft and enticing. "It can be slow, tender, intimate-"

"Quinn," he finally whispered against your lips. "Stop it." 

You huffed, letting go of him and dropping down off your tiptoes. "Fine."

You turned and walked back out onto the landing without bothering to redress, making your way towards the stairs.  

"Where are you going?" he called out to you.

"To get my vibrator out of my bag," you called back, hearing his quiet chuckle echo from the bathroom. 

You had never felt better; washed hair and warm, dry clothes, the musky scent of earth replaced by the clean, masculine scent of Ben's body wash. Your limbs buzzed from the wine you'd been sipping as you stood at the stove in the kitchen, stirring a pot of pasta and listening to music from a small speaker on the counter. 

The night sky was black as ink, the quiet countryside making the world outside seem nonexistent, as though the small cottage was the only place left on earth. And you were sure you wouldn't have minded if it was. Ben came up behind you, snaking his hand around your stomach to hold you close as he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck. You smiled, feeling your skin tingle beneath his lips, a slight tickle from his moustache. 

He picked up the bottle of wine from the counter beside you and topped up your glass. 

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"A little bit." 

You exhaled a soft laugh, picking it up and taking a sip. 

"I'm really glad you could come down," he said, filling his own glass and sitting at the dining table behind you. "It's been weird not talking to you every day."

"I know, I'm great." 

He chuckled. "You are." 

You turned around, leaning back against the counter, glass in hand. "Did you ever think after our first meeting you'd be saying that about me?" 

"After our first meeting? I knew I’d be saying something about you, though I assumed it would be to a lawyer."

Your lip curled with a smirk as you sipped your wine. "Now look at us, making dinner together in a little cottage in the countryside. Not a lawyer in sight." 

"Exactly. See, the no sex thing is working." 

"Oh, you think that's why we're getting along so well?" You raised an eyebrow, your smirk spreading.

He leaned back in his chair, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, it certainly hasn’t hurt. We’ve actually gotten to know each other. I mean, look at you - no knives in hand, no threats of bodily harm..." 

"Mm. I wouldn't completely credit the abstinence. Maybe I'm just too tired from all this non-sexual bonding to argue with you." 

"Or maybe you just enjoy my company." 

You paused, biting your lip as you looked down at him, before turning to save the pot from bubbling over on the stove. 

"Why's it so hard for you to just admit I was right about taking it slow?" he asked.

"I got a train to Kent for you. I think it's already quite clear." 

He laughed, and you listened as the legs of his chair scraped the floor, his footsteps approaching as you drained the pasta over the sink. 

"You've really never done this before, have you," he said. "Dating, courting." 

"Courting?" you scoffed. "Okay, granddad." 

He slid his arms around your waist, pressing his chest against your back as he spoke slow, quiet, his voice deep and intimate. "Just imagine, Quinn. All the waiting; the frustration, anticipation. Imagine how... incredible it's going to be when we finally do it." 

You felt a shiver run down your spine, desire bubbling deep in your stomach. He pressed his lips to the side of your head, the heat of his body making you melt against him. 

"I know I seem cruel," he continued. "Turning you down, making you feel like I don't want you. But trust me, I do. And I've been thinking about it a lot, how good it's going to feel." 

You inhaled through your nose in an attempt to compose yourself, to quell the growing ache between your legs. You continued what you were doing, tipping the steaming pasta into an empty pot. 

"I want to take my time with you," he murmured. "Reacquaint myself with every inch of your body." 

You felt his arms tighten around you, his hands gripping you more firmly. 

"When I finally touch you, really touch you, it's going to be slow, intense; I want to make sure you feel every brush of my fingertips, every kiss, every..." He trailed off, but you knew the picture he was painting. His voice like a dark, seductive promise, pouring his intentions directly into your ear. "I want to watch your face as I make you fall apart beneath me. Hear the sounds you make as I push you to the edge and pull you back, just so I can do it all over again."

Your legs felt weak, and you were grateful for his arms around you, holding you steady. It was impossible not to get lost in his words, in the way your stomach coiled, your core throbbing with need.

 "And when we finally come together," he continued, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "I'm certain I will never be able to keep my hands off you again." 

You let out a shaky breath, your voice barely a whisper. "You’re really not making it easy to be patient, you know."

He exhaled a laugh. "I just thought you might like to know I'm not finding this easy either. But there's reason behind it." 

"I know," you replied with a sigh, turning in his arms to face him. "I know I've been giving you a hard time about it but it's only because you're right - I don't date, I don't... court." 

"You don't court?" he teased.

"No, old man, I don't court." You laughed. "I've never wanted to. So I always just... skip to the physical stuff, ignore the rest." 

He stroked a stray lock of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. "But you're not ignoring it with me. Look, you're here, you're trying."

"Mm. I suppose I just never liked someone enough to make dinner and drink wine with them before. Never cared enough to nearly die in the Kent countryside for them." 

He gave a deep laugh in his throat. "You didn't nearly die." 

"We'll agree to disagree." 

He smiled, tilting your chin up with his fingers and kissing you softly. "I guess I should consider myself lucky then," he said. "That you're here, even though it’s not your usual thing.”

“I don’t know if it’s luck, Ben. Maybe it’s just... you.”

His eyes crinkled, the corners of his mouth curving into a gentle smile. “I’ll take that.”

You both stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s embrace, the flames licking in your core now dwindling to a comfortable smoulder. 

“You know,” he said after a moment. “We could make this our thing.”

"Make what our thing?" You raised an eyebrow. 

"This." He gestured to the space around you. "Every time I’m on location, you can brave the wilderness-"

“And risk my life,” you interjected.

"And risk your life,” he agreed with a grin. “Just to come cook dinner and drink wine with me. It’ll be like a... tradition." 

You tilted your head, pretending to think about it, before giving him a slow, teasing smile. “Throw in a few tropical countries and I might consider it." 

“I'll see what I can do." 

He kissed you again, deeper this time, pressing you gently against the edge of the sink before pulling back, resting his forehead on yours for a brief moment. You stood there as you watched him finish off the dinner, taking in the comfortable sight of him moving around the kitchen in domestic ease. He hummed to himself contently as he chopped and stirred, stopping every now and then to take a sip from his glass, twirling utensils between his fingers. 

It was strange, how this easy, unremarkable moment was something you’d never quite known before. How you'd never taken heed of the quiet, subtler parts of another person. Yet here, in the warmth of the kitchen, surrounded by the clatter of pots and the aroma of garlic and basil, you felt a kind of intimacy you hadn’t expected to find.

It wasn’t the grand gestures or passionate moments you'd come to crave, but rather the simple act of sharing space, of being present together. The quiet companionship that came with just being in his company. It was a different kind of closeness; genuine, chaste, something you hadn’t even realised you’d been missing.

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[zoropookie]

WHAT YOU WON'T DO FOR LOVE (WYWDFL) — TWO

YOU couldn't be having a worse halloween night. choose your fate with your fellow readers and see if it gets better!

chapter one — chapter three

soulmate!wanderer x gn!reader

Yeah, let’s do it. At least the debt collectors won’t call anymore. That's only if you do actually die, though.

"I love you, mom," You muttered to yourself begrudgingly, the oppressive tons of the night and your earlier agitation whisked away in the wind by a sudden anxiety. You found yourself moving to the alleyway.

It was a narrow area, littered with debris from front to back. There were discarded newspaper, broken bottles, the occasional piece of unidentifiable trash and...syringes you were too apprehensive to even walk near. You walked through the cracked and uneven pavement to follow the sound of two people speaking from a distance.

You carefully made your way, and as you did, the voice you were hearing became clearer. It wasn’t a dying dog, or a man who was suffering the severe after effects of meth and paying for it. No…it sounded like just a regular guy who was panicking (which admittedly, pissed you off. this was clearly a waste of time). The muffled voices of the conversation were partnered by the irrefutable rustling of movement.

The alley’s walls loomed high above you, making long and distorted outlines in the shadows. They were mingling with the dim light. The steps you took were tentative, each one seeming louder with how quiet the night was.

There was a bend in the alley— the voices becoming clearer. You strained to hear them still, catching snippets of what they were saying that made your heart race even stronger

"You said…this would be easy," a voice hissed with a thicker sound to it, sharp and tense. It was a man's voice. “You said I’d gain a lot doing this.”

"Yeaaah," another voice replied, smoother and more evasive. “That was until I heard you were thinking of ratting me to the cops. Now I have no choice. Makes me look bad.” This voice carried an air of authority, as if its owner was accustomed to being in charge.

“Huh?” You sounded in brief confusion, pressing yourself against the gritty brick texture, trying to steady your breaths. The low glow of a flickering streetlight barely illuminated them as they spoke in the crevice carved out. You peeked expectantly.

“I would never! I swear, I swear.” The man spluttered out, groveling on the floor pathetically. The panic he felt was clearly highlighted by the street lights, his throat sounded completely dry. He wasn’t able to salivate from how high the stress he felt. “Finding out that guy was my soulmate…it clouded my judgement. I’m sorry!”

The silence that followed was long and arduous. The tension thick enough that it lingered around them until the other lips curled a little bit. “I’m kidding.” His smooth voice admitted.

“Wh…what?”

“Yeah. Just wanted to josh you. Happy Pride.” He snickered, shaking his own head in a personal amusement. His lips curved in a leer before he began to laugh softly, some huffs, some chuckles.

“Uh…yeah, thanks.” The other man tensed, looking uneasy as he forced himself to laugh along for the time that he was. You found this encounter really odd, amongst everything, but you couldn’t help but sit there and watch.

“Oh, but seriously,” The chuckles died down in an instant, as he straightened out. The atmosphere plummeted so hard that even you could feel how ominous it was. “You really only have one use to me as of now, and well… you don’t need to be alive for that.”

Without warning, he grabbed the hilt before it fell and plunged his knife deep into his chest. He reeled his arm back at such a high speed that the other couldn’t whine, cry out for help, or protest in time. The blade, a steely glint still remained despite it bloodied.

Your stomach dropped immediately, mouth opened wide. You’re listening to a man gargle blood, struggling to even keep himself alive right now. With each stab he did pierce into the man, you flinched harder every time as the sound reverberated. You were watching someone die, and couldn’t feel your legs.

It was like you couldn’t do anything to keep yourself from watching, either. If that guy was capable of killing a man, then he was capable of killing you too once he figured out that you were watching him like you were watching the fucking Garfield movie.

His eyes were still shielded by the cap he wore, but you knew that his hair was dark from the unruly way it stuck out in the back. He cocked his head to the side, a simple and effortless jolt of his arm twisted the blade in his hand. A last high pitched wheeze escaped his lips before he truly fell limp.

You finally realized the severity of the situation. This wasn’t no Garfield shit, and with that, you slapped a hand to your mouth once the fight or flight kicked in. Oh my god.

You cringed at the slight thump that came afterward, the sight of the man lying on the floor, the other man retching at the sight of the blood after a few seconds. He looked like he had done it multiple times, but even so, the gagging came around like whiplash.

It echoed through the empty streets, an ugly recoil as his gloved hands covered his mouth. He gingerly tried to pull the knife out of the man, simultaneously keeping his food content in his stomach.

Your heart was beating like drums in your ears; you knew you had to do something before he decided to put you on his hit-list next. Taking in deep, juttered breaths you glanced around the small alcove you were in.

Maybe if you hide here, he wouldn’t really notice anything—?

“Enjoy the show?” A piercing, stiff and chilling voice called out. “I know you’re there. Protip; if you don’t want to be heard, maybe don’t gasp on command when you see a little blood.”

You wanted to point him out on his hypocrisy, considering he was the one who almost blew out chunks over it, but you were too scared to even say anything back. Nor did you want to. Your best bet was making it seem like you left, but the longer time you waited, the nearer his footsteps got.

“Come out.”

[raisindave]

[Chapter 74] Seeing the World Through Ballistic-Tinted Glasses

Content Warning: Mentions of drug abuse & addiction.

The main knots came undone easily enough, they weren’t very well done to begin with. Once loosened you left him to his own devices. He’s a big boy, he can fucking figure it out– he probably learned how to untie himself from a chair it in that stupid SAS Handbook of his. You gave him grace to shrug out of your not-so-handiwork while you made your way back to the bare pillow that was so deliciously cool against your cheek. For a second you swore you heard him scoff, and from the anonymity of the pillow you smiled a girlish grin. He should know you well enough by now that you won’t be charitable to him just because he’s convenient, though he never seems to mind your cruelty.  

After about a minute of enjoying the stiff, slightly uneven mattress, you glanced to see his progress just in time for him to set himself at the foot of the bed. His weight heartily dragged down the shoddy bedframe, but he turned to lay on his back near your feet. Like the good little soldier he is, he was methodically recoiling his survival rope you’d hijacked. Dark tattoos on pale skin stood out against the white sheets that covered his lower half. A sense of embarrassment washed over you, now acutely aware of the context you’d found yourself sitting in. Around an hour ago, you’d been a hysterical weeping mess in the shower, now facing sobering clarity.

“Sorry for... All that earlier. It’s just-” the logic behind your meltdown, or lack thereof, slipped from your mind as it rapidly shifted gears. “I used to love my birthdays, but now they’re getting harder every year.” 

He let you continue, clearly listening but not turning his gaze from the coiling rope. Your voice echoed off the cracked wallpaper, but the following silence let you hear distant helicopters and barking dogs. It was eerily tranquil, even if you were still technically on an active mission involving violent terrorists—the perfect setting for spilling your soul. 

“It’s not even about my age, well, that’s part of it… it’s mostly just that every passing year is another year I’ve outlived my big sister,” you found yourself picking at your cuticles as a consequence of the self-induced anxiety. “I feel bad for feeling bad, like I’m not supposed to be unhappy or unsatisfied because I get to be alive right now. I don’t feel alive, though.”

“I know that feeling better than I’d like to admit,” sighed deeply, bordering on a yawn.  

“What was your big brother like?”

Are you allowed to ask that? Is that top secret, or will you be interrogated for knowing something like that? You already have Ghost’s first and last name and where he likely grew up, given his accent. Is that already too much? Time and time again, he indulges in your curiosities when he has no reason to humour you. 

“He was a fucking wreck,” he propped himself up on his elbow, lounging like a fresco of Adam. 

“More of a wreck than you?” you gestured to his skull mask. 

“Different kind of wreck,” he scoffed, but still couldn’t seem to raise his eyes. “He was into drugs bad. I’d deploy, and he’s fine. When I’d get back, he’s right back into the same habits. It'd be all I'd think about when I was away, how long he'd last before my mom would start to worry about 'im again. We had a pretty steady cycle for a while there.”

It was your turn to let him in silence, daring him to continue. Bait he didn’t seem to bite. 

“What was your sister like?” his voice came out like a grumble. 

“She was the opposite of me in nearly every way,” you met his eyes finally. “She hated the outdoors, hated learning anything new, and was always boy crazy.” 

“Are you sure she’s the opposite of you?”

You furrowed your gaze into a glare just in time for him to shake his head and continue weaving the black cord back into a tidy column. It seems that you both have ways of keeping your hands occupied while you think, an odd nervous habit you both have in common. 

“My dad would take us hiking to get away from our mom. She hated the woods and couldn’t go ten minutes in the snow without whining to go inside again. I only ever remember bickering with her over books or toys or clothes or boys. Just typical sister stuff,” a smile danced on your lips at the nostalgia. “I don’t know if it’d be more or less painful if we had a shit relationship.” 

“It hurts just the same.” 

“You’re probably right,” you lamented weakly. “But I think it’s our responsibility to live the life that they never got to have.”

There’s that sadness again. Not as hopeless and isolated, but still a heavy stone in your gut that crushes your appetite and swallows your joy. It’s more annoying than anything, like you’re supposed to be fine right now. Fed, socially sated, rested and with a successful workday behind you. So what’s this empty feeling in your chest?

“I just- I want to see the sunrise from my bedroom window,” your voice started to creak, tightening with another onslaught of emotions. “I want to sit in scented baths until my skin gets raw. I want to get stuck in traffic and wake up whenever I feel like it. I want to tend to a sprawling garden so fat chickadees can get drunk off the berries.”

Tears formed in your eyes again, blurring floral yellow wallpaper into a haze of muddy colours. A life of excitement and danger left you craving the simple things. The mundane, the predictable. So much action has left you void of a personality, of your wit and wonder that you once had. It’s not even fair to say ‘you’ll always crave what you don’t have’ because you’d never really liked this nomadic lifestyle with this task force to begin with. Exciting as it might be, it’s not what you signed up for. Every mission takes a chunk out of your soul, sapping you of your willpower.

“I miss worrying about shoddy phone chargers and running out of laundry detergent,” a weak laugh erupting from your throat shook loose tears free to stream down your cheeks. “I just want to feel normal and safe, somewhere I can explore my career without worrying about being in an enemy sniper's line of sight. I miss having something that looks at me like it loves me, depends on me. Even if it’s a fucking goldfish.”

Before you could make any sense of the movements, he was crawling on top of you. Time skipped and his hot mouth collided with yours, drawing you into a searing kiss. It felt like two galaxies colliding, your body heat hotter than ever, mixing and swirling as you desperately pulled one another closer. Hiccuping sobs and lapping tongues left you suddenly falling out of breath, too stubborn to relent despite your searing lungs. You just couldn’t get enough of one another’s skin, like every inch of yours needed to be wrapped up in his. Tears that streamed down your cheeks faded into obscurity. There wasn’t even a second of hesitation in lifting his mask either, a death sentence that could see you turned to stone like Medusa for all you know. Even if your eyelids fluttered open, you could only glimpse the side of his pale jaw, before he would hungrily lay claim to your attention. Meanwhile your hands found his shoulders, his neck, the back of his mask. Soft short hair from where he’d lifted the mask, sliding your fingertips across his scalp. 

His hand cradled the back of your head, almost begging you not to go, and you clung to him like a branch in a windstorm. For all the bitter jabs and cold stares, he’s always felt safe. Not like you don’t feel safe around Soap or Gaz, but this is somehow a different kind of safe. A different kind of comfort from that which comes from a brotherly pep talk and a punch to the shoulder. He pries sinister thoughts from your mind with ease and stands patient vigil, no matter what jabs and insults you hurl his way. He feels like someone you wished you’d met years ago. The logic of why this was wrong was lost on you. Those rules said something along the lines of no kissing, but why? It didn’t click. There were other rules, but they too had been overwritten by carnal desire. How can something that feels so right be wrong—it’s a crime against nature. Hands that were once harsh and uncaring were gentle and warm, a sensation that had been entirely forgotten from decades of deprivation. 

“We shouldn’t,” you gasp, fluttering neurons straining to recall your rules. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled into your mouth, pulling your lips back against his. 

Being told to shut up never sounded so sweet. A sudden advent of heart-racing movement and crashing kisses left your searing lungs heaving for oxygen. Your head kicked back to gasp for fresh air, yet his kisses only trailed down your neck, pecking and sucking at sensitive skin. The sensation of his mouth on you sent goosebumps across your skin. A different kind of munition fuelled this encounter, something more than lust. When breath finally returned, you invited him from where he was kissing your collarbone to meet you again. For a second, you caught a glimpse of pink lips and hazy brown eyes before he was on you; butterflies fluttered in your stomach. 

In the heat of the exchange, it was only natural for him to reach to angle his stiffened self to your entrance, your bodies yearned for one another in a way that’s only akin to starvation and fresh bounty. Even the bedframe groaned from the strain. His palm slides to yours, and your fingers intertwine, slick heat between your palms creating a welding bond that binds you to him. This time was different from any other. You put your whole body into every motion, bucking and grinding your hips into his and meeting yearning resistance. 

It took your whole body weight to plant your knee beside him, lifting to sit astride him without daring to part from tasting his lips. Gravity urged you closer where his hands weren’t, though that wasn’t much. You could cup his face in your hands as he lay below you, trapped under your spell with his heaving chest, lifting you off the bed with every breath. Part of you was so terribly tempted to rip the mask off entirely, suddenly questioning its existence entirely. His chest is so warm, his hands leave sparks on your skin as they trail down your spine, across your shoulders, caressing your rump. The soft warmth could make you sob, your captured Nemean lion that you couldn't dare let out of your sight. Every passing millisecond you were over him like this felt like a gift of power that emboldened your spirit, resting on his chest feeling ragged breaths and every one of his muscles shift to touch you more.

Your dominance was short-lived, he wasn’t playing around. He quickly pivoted back over you and planted his palms on either upturned wrist, wrapping your legs around him to anchor him near. It was worth a shot. You both tend to fight for control, thirsty for power but seemingly delighting in giving it up. He, however, tends to have a more commanding presence. He’ll let you have your fun so long as he’s still in control; you’d be a fool to think your shoddy knots could actually bind him to that chair. Splintering that chair and fraying thick cords would be as easy to him as swatting a wasp off fruit. The thought spurred you to bite down on his tongue, only lightly, but enough to ignite a soft laugh from his chest. Even the corners of his lips bent into a smile against yours, dragging you closer with a calloused palm on your spine. 

“You unman me, Lua,” he choked out in a bassy grumble. 

That made your eyelids flutter and stomach churn, now more alight than ever. Only you could have this control over him, only you make him shudder and whimper and groan and howl. And he makes you feel so alive. So safe and paradoxically dangerous in a sick and twisted cocktail that swirls in your soul. He’s always had a grip on you, no matter how much you might try to bury it. Rules slip into obscurity, finding yourself drunk on body heat and the scent of his skin. 

“Come on, Daddy,” the words poured from your throat. They surprised you yet felt so natural. 

Part of you cringed at the use of that word, something you’d seen in one of those $2 erotic novels in thrift stores. There was always this part of you that worried that you’d never hold up to his dangerous lifestyle or any of the other sexual encounters he mentioned, facing some sort of impostor syndrome. But his reaction was only comparable to explosive. Every motion, more intense, heavier breaths gasping at your breath, his grapple over you constricted, even his fingernails dug into the sides of your neck. It’s like you’d struck a nerve. Or the jackpot. He parted your kiss briefly, only to glance down to align himself with your entrance. More butterflies, another glimpse of pink lips through your hazy eyes, slick and parted. 

“Say that again,” he panted.

Fingernails you’d gnawed down to the nub from stress rake uselessly at his shoulder blades like a declawed cat. You couldn’t help but yelp when he pushed himself into you, and his hovering lips only hesitated to connect with yours to listen to your mewling. Something in you felt like this was something more than sex. 

“Please, Daddy,“ your voice squeaked under the strain. “I want you, Simon.”

Where you were at first skeptical of his response, that word has had such a profound impact on him, like you’d just unlatched some spring-loaded desire that he’d withheld for decades. You could feel him in your chest as his thrusts grew more intense, rattling your insides. Better yet, you could even hear the sweet sounds of your sloppy coupling over your shared gasps. It’s like for a second he forgot about his mask, seemingly drunk on lust, lucky that your eyes rolled up when his passion grew. Where you’d come to expect brash and often harsh sex, this felt so much more gentle and forgiving. Part of you was wistful of that brutality, finding it exciting, but a more prominent part of your psyche was uniquely parched of this kind of affection. Together, you made a knot of limbs and fingertips, two lovers intertwined in a void between space and time found to be precisely located within a shitty German motel. 

“You’re mine, only mine… mine… mine,” he trailed off as if in a trance. “Hmm? ” He hummed, requesting your agreement to the proposition. 

“Yes- yes, sir,” the voice in your throat came out like a whimper. 

Your lips connected again, only briefly, weakly linked as the majority of your brain’s computing power went into grinding into his pace. He let out a deeply held sigh, more dishevelled than you’d ever seen him before. It lit your soul alight. You could never get tired of the feeling of his cock within you. So warm and hard and necessary, the other puzzle piece that fits into yours. The rhythm was a slow and searing thing, a steady tempo at which he stoked the growing fire within you. Your back arched to take more of him; he couldn’t seem to stop himself from biting the side of your neck, marks be damned. 

There were moments where the primary goal wasn’t to find sexual gratification from each other’s body; it’d become more about finding emotional security in the entanglement with another living, breathing person. Sometimes the slowing pace reflected that, even when your chest burned just as hot. He smells like chocolate icing and the sweet pistachio lotion you’d swept over his skin. It’s a marvel that you could orgasm again, crying out his name as he took you hard. You knew these athletes had superhuman cardio capabilities, but you’d assumed it wouldn’t apply to this context. His warm palm slid over your cheek as he spilled himself within you, groaning into your mouth as he flinched, rigid and potent motions demanding control over you for a few brilliant moments where the stars aligned. He’d become your lifeline, your lighthouse that commands you back to shore when you’re lost at sea. 

Relaxed muscles lay heavy and warm, emanating a lingering ember of heat from your chest that mingled with his body heat. Spent and weary, he didn’t retract, neither did you. An overused sex drive left your muscles flinching, fingers twitching as they intertwined with his. After gasping kisses eventually graduated to tender pecks, he fell to rest beside you, but you were still unwilling to release your grip on him. Your temple rested on his collarbone just in time for you to catch his mask being pulled below his chin. His heart still held a steady rhythm in his broad chest, surprisingly slow and calm. That’s not fair. Sheets dragged over exposed skin made you shudder at the tender act, finding tranquillity in broad arms holding you fast at his side. Everything felt so in tune, the same tempo, same melody. Two different instruments, often battered and bruised, make a beautiful song when you’re together. Time slipped by like warm honey, you wouldn’t be surprised if you fell asleep against his shoulder. So this is what it feels like to be held. 

In an instant, he shot up from his position; it would’ve made you flinch if you weren’t so relaxed. Your eyes strained against the light, having been closed in sleepy bliss. He was a blur of movement and fabric, before you could even blink you heard that familiar sound of his buckle. The best you could do was lay placid in the sheets as your lifeline receded, blankly following him flick the door’s lock open with a click just in time for him to swipe that cracked phone into his pocket. 

The door didn’t slam, there was no stomping. He had too much emotional control for that. But it didn’t mean you couldn’t see a look of bitter spite and, of all things, panic in his eyes. He was gone. Not a word or anything of the sort. A kind of coldness you’d come to know all too well. It’s expected, really. This is the path you’ve created for yourself. You have to walk it. He was gone so quickly that the only proof of the entire encounter being real was that stupid yellow gift box he’d left, a birthday present that felt more bitter than bittersweet. 

You’d made the mistake of fixating on an unavailable man. And look where it’s got you. It’s not even worth dwelling on what you’d done wrong because you’re already well aware. It’s obvious. The ground rules you’d established were set up for a reason, rules that you’d broken. When you strained to find that dinky flip phone in your pack, you found that you'd hemorrhaged valuable body heat trapped within the sheets, now painfully alone and chilled. Apparently Laswell had you on some flight in the early morning— a text that interrupted your blank stare at the ceiling summoned you to the tarmac in a few short hours. Off to the races once again.

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Master List

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Running from the Flames {30}

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x OFC Warnings: 18+ only, c-section/surgery

F1 Masterlist || Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Of all the plans we had in place for the birth none of them prepared me for how quickly the time would come. One moment we were in the ambulance, the sirens blaring as it left the circuit and raced through the city to the Women’s Hospital that was preparing for us. 

The drive seemed to take a lot longer than it really was as waves of pain lacerated my abdomen with every contraction. Yuki had quickly climbed into the front seat when Amber started to lift my skirt up but I was past the point of caring who saw me naked as long as I got good news. Pierre wasn’t though as he thanked Yuki for the privacy when he passed by him.

“I’d say you’re around 7cm dilated. And there weren’t any signs of labour earlier?”

I shook my head as Pierre bit his lip waiting for an answer. “I’ve had a sore back for weeks. It didn’t seem any worse than usual this morning and then I was distracted by the race. I should have paid more attention.”

“Hey, don’t think that,” Pierre said softly before his hand was squeezed tightly with another contraction. “How far away are we?”

“We’re here,” Yuki answered as the van turned into the complex and I finally felt a little of the fear dissipate as we came to a stop and the back doors were opened.

The world blurred as I was wheeled through the hospital to the surgical ward and then Pierre’s hand was suddenly torn from mine. With every second we continued down the hall his raised voice was fading and he asked Yuki for help telling the staff he needed to be with me. 

“I’m coming, Bri, I promise!” 

“Amber, what’s happening?” My voice was broken and she held me still as I tried to look for Pierre.

“They are getting Pierre changed into scrubs so he can come into the theatre,” she assured me and I breathed a sigh of relief. “He’ll be there in a minute.”

I wished I could understand what the doctors were saying but without Yuki I was clueless to what they were deciding about my baby and it left my palms sweating. I could do nothing but entrust our lives to them as we passed another set of doors and suddenly I was in an operating room. I might have been in a different continent but these rooms looked the same all over the globe.

Pierre’s POV

“I need to get in there,” I all but shouted as I pointed to the doors my wife had disappeared behind. “That’s my baby, I need to be there!”

Yuki’s head snapped back and forth between me and the nurse as he copied my actions and translated my frustrations. “You have to follow her and get changed. You can’t go in like that. It’s unsanitary for the baby.”

I looked down at myself, feeling the damp sweat from the race soaking my overalls and knew my hair was just as bad. “Okay, let’s go, hurry, please.”

“And you have to sign some forms.”

“Fuck, yes, whatever it is, I’ll sign it dammit.”

Too many pages, it never seemed to end, and I couldn’t concentrate on any of the words. Paperwork wasn’t my forte, that was all Bri, and she was the one that was more organised to handle this sort of thing. But she was waiting for me, relying on me to finish this so the surgery could begin so I rushed to fill out her details and sign my name as the authority.

My patience wore thin as I flipped the page and saw I needed to pretty much repeat it all over again and the pen threatened to crack in my grip. The pen only just survived the last signature before I thrust the documents into the nurse’s waiting hands.

A pair of scrubs were handed back in exchange and the nurse pointed to a bathroom, and I didn’t need Yuki to help with that instruction, I was already unzipping my overalls as I ran across the hall. I had never changed faster in my life as I stripped my fireproofs off and pulled on the pale blue scrubs, only sparing ten precious seconds to wash my face in the basin before abandoning my gear as I left the room.

“Now?” I asked, stepping towards the doors to the operating theatre as Yuki came out of the other bathroom in a set of his own scrubs. “Can I see my wife?”

“…my wife,” Pierre’s voice reached through the doors before they were pushed open and he stepped inside, the shape of Yuki waiting on the other side. “Come on.”

“I’m not good with blood,” Yuki started to respond before falling silent at the pleading look on Pierre’s face and following him in. He immediately started speaking to a nurse who had been hovering around my head. “They’re going to give you something for the pain.”

“Fuck the pain, just find out if our baby is okay,” I growled through gritted teeth as each contraction seemed to roll into the next. The surprise on Yuki’s face passed quickly as he heard a rare swear word come from my lips before he asked the question, pointing to my stomach before they rolled me onto my side.

“Stay still,” Yuki warned as he closed his eyes, wincing as the needle hit my spine and a cool flush spread quickly down my legs, the pain receding with it.

“I love you,” Pierre said as he took a seat on the stool beside my head and wiped away the tears that stained my cheeks. “You’re doing well, mon ange. I love you so much.”

“I’m scared.”

He swallowed and chewed his lip as he watched how quickly the staff rushed to organise themselves. “Me too.”

A thin paper curtain was lifted between us and my world focused solely on Pierre as we desperately waited for the cries we needed to hear. Each minute seemed endless as I held Pierre’s hands and he pressed his forehead to mine, whispering prayers and encouragement until I felt the pressure in my abdomen release.

My eyes widened in panic as I remembered Adelaide announcing her arrival almost instantly but as the seconds of silence ticked by dread froze the air in my lungs. Suddenly it came, a soft sound that broke the stillness in the room and grew to a warbling cry and I could breathe again.

“A boy,” Yuki smiled and laughed with relief as he gripped Pierre’s shoulder.  

“Sydney, mon fils,” Pierre whispered in amazement as he kissed away the tears that had fallen and sat up as the nurse brought our son around. “You did it, my love.” 

The beautiful image before me blurred as tears of joy welled in my eyes at the sight of seeing Pierre hold his son for the first time. I had seen him stand on podiums and receive trophies, spraying champagne into the air, but the pride he radiated the moment he saw Sydney’s face could never compare. 

“He’s perfect.” Tears glistened on his skin as he stroked the tip of his finger over Sydney’s delicate cheek before bringing him closer so I could him too.

He already had tufts of pale brown hair on his head like Pierre did as a child and full pink lips that quivered with little cries. “Hi, sweet boy,” I cooed as Pierre helped him into my arms, avoiding the IV and monitoring cords that criss crossed over me. “He’s so little.”

I wished I could hold him longer and memorise every inch of his face but he was born weeks earlier than he was meant to and the nurse smiled sadly as she took him back. My own selfish want to hold him could wait until he had been checked over by the people trained to care for premature babies. 

“They are going to take him to the special care suite to keep an eye on him,” Yuki said after listening to the nurse’s instructions then looked at Pierre. “She said you can go with him.”

“I’ll be fine. Go,” I urged him when he looked between us. “You too, Yuki, we owe you.”

“Yeah?” he asked with a grin. “Do you have a middle name yet?”

“Not happening, Yuki-San, come one,” Pierre said with an amused shake of his head before stopping only to kiss me once more. “I’ll see you soon, je t’aime.”

“Love you too, both of you.”

“Careful, mon fille, we have to support his head,” Pierre instructed Addie as she sat on his lap and together they held her baby brother. “Good girl, and see that tube, we have to make sure it doesn’t get pulled.”

Dad had arrived with Addie not long after I had been moved into the same suite as Sydney and there was apparently an entire waiting room filled with our friends that had cut short their post-race celebrations to wait on news of us. The big cheer they gave when Pierre went out to tell them we had a small but healthy boy had made me smile as I cradled him to my chest whispering how loved he was. 

“What’s it for?” Addie asked as she kept her hands away from the tube that disappeared into Sydney’s nose.

“To help him grow big and strong because he was in such a rush to meet us.”

A knock sounded at the door before it quietly opened and Charles peeked into the room. “Pierre said you might want some sushi,” he said as he held up the bag stacked with containers of every combination.

I grinned at my husband, amazed that he had remembered his promise with everything else that had been going on around us and waved Charles into the room. “You’re an angel,” I said as he placed the food on the bedside table and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“He’s going to be a heartbreaker,” Charles gushed as he sat on the arm of the chair beside Pierre and gently shook Sydney’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Mini Gasly. I’m Charles, and I’m going to be your favourite uncle.”

“But you’re my favourite uncle,” Addie said with a frown as she looked up at him slightly offended.

“I can be both of your favourites, don’t worry,” Charles reassured her with a smile. “Have you had a family photo yet?”

“No, I look terrible,” I answered before Pierre could. I had taken plenty of photos of him with Sydney and of Addie with them but I didn’t want to have my own taken until I could at least have a shower.

Pierre shook his head. “You look beautiful.”

“I have an idea,” Charles offered as he stood up and pulled his phone out. “Mum has a picture of when Arthur was born and it’s just our hands layered from biggest to smallest. You could try that?”

Sydney’s hand looked so small in Addie’s but the picture Charles took was a beautiful memory to keep. When we got home we planned to get an actual photographer to take some professional portraits but at the moment we didn’t know when we would be able to fly back to France. It wasn’t exactly a quick trip and Sydney didn’t even have a birth certificate let alone a passport to fly with, plus the neonatal paediatricians wanted to monitor him for at least a few days until he put on some weight. 

There were still so many unknown variables that meant we could’ve ended up staying in Suzuka for a while, and Pierre hadn’t even mentioned his plans for the race in Qatar. But those were all problems for tomorrow, because right now I had my family together and that meant everything to me.

Click here for the first half of the epilogue.

Tagging: @my-only-way-tocooperatewithlife @prrttysposts @alwaysclassyeagle @dr3lover @adalynneva

[son1c]

falling stars bonus chapter cuz it's been on my mind all day

falling stars fic masterpost

Sonic spent the first 5 seconds after he woke up blissfully unaware that anything was wrong. When 6 seconds rolled around, however, he started to get the feeling that maybe something was a little weird about his current situation. It was the pillow that gave it away–the thing was just too darn fluffy. It was unnatural. And by the time 7 seconds passed, he cracked his eyes open, and was greeted by a familiar room that did nothing but confirm his suspicions.

It was the hospital room from before. The simple fact that he recognized it was part of the problem. Because he had spent all of yesterday not recognizing anything, and he was kind of hoping it was just a bad dream. So, now that he had woken up and wasn’t magically transported to a world where he didn’t have amnesia… 

Well, it was a little undeniable.

But whatever. He could put that on the back burner for now, because there was one more thing that was bugging him. And this one was a bit more urgent than the whole “I can’t remember who I am” thing. And it was that, aside from himself, the room was empty.

He might have a faulty memory, but if there was one thing he was positive about, it was that he hadn’t been alone when he’d fallen asleep this morning.

So that begged the question: where was Stripes?

With a not unsubstantial amount of effort, Sonic sat up. Then, he noticed a pair of gloves folded neatly at the bottom of the bed. They were light blue, and sitting within arm’s reach on top of the thin sheet he was covered with. Wait, he didn’t remember crawling under the covers–

Sonic shook his head. Just add it to the list of things he didn’t remember, and move on, he thought.

After he grabbed the gloves, he put them on. The light blue felt… different… but it was nice to cover up some of the bandages, at least. So, he didn’t mind too much.

His broken leg ached horribly, so he tried to be as mindful of it as possible when he scooched forward. He got as far as the bottom end of the bed before stopping, both of his legs now hanging down over the edge. From there, he leaned forward, peeking around the corner and toward the door. It was still closed. Okay. He looked the other way, toward the window. It was still open. Hmm.

With a frown, Sonic sat back. He thought about how, unlike himself, Shadow was able to move around without any issues. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Even with all the craziness earlier, Sonic had still noticed the other hedgehog’s slight limp. But still, he was in way better shape than Sonic was currently. So, if he wanted to…

If he wanted to…

Sonic stared out the open window.

A slight rattling noise suddenly caught his attention. The sound was coming from above, and when Sonic looked up, he saw the bolts holding the air vent to the wall slowly becoming unscrewed. Before the metal cover could fall to the floor, however, a gloved hand reached out and snatched it. And then Shadow’s head appeared from inside of the vent, and he looked down at Sonic.

“Oh,” Shadow said. “You’re awake.”

Sonic couldn’t help but grin. “That’s a pretty cool entrance, Stripes.”

Shadow dropped down from the vent. It was only after propping the metal cover up against the wall that he turned back around to face Sonic and said, “The door didn’t seem like a good idea.”

Sonic snorted. “Still cool,” he said. Whatever worries had been coiling in his stomach before were gone now. He was wondering, though… “What made you wanna go all Mission Impossible?”

Shadow glanced at Sonic’s leg. “I was looking for something to help with that,” he said, “that I couldn’t find in here. Those bandages won’t hold up as a support for long. But this should.” He held out something to Sonic, a black brace suited for a Mobian-sized leg.

Sonic started to get excited. As grateful as he was that Shadow had been carrying him around up until this point, he definitely didn’t want to be a hedgehog-shaped tote bag forever. “Good thinking,” he said.

After slipping the brace onto his leg with only a moderate amount of pain, Sonic felt way better about their situation. He hadn’t realized just how miserable having a broken leg was making him until this very moment. Really, it almost made his memory problems seem like a nonissue by comparison.

“How does that feel?” Shadow asked.

“It feels like I could run a marathon,” Sonic replied.

Shadow frowned. “Don’t push your luck, Blue.”

Holding up his hands, Sonic said, “Just kidding. This thing would probably only be good for a half marathon, anyway.”

Shadow’s frown deepened, the joke totally flying over his head. But Sonic didn’t mind. He was just happy to have some of his freedom of motion back. With a sparkle in his eyes, Sonic asked, “Will you spot me? I wanna try to stand.”

Shadow started to say, “This is no time to be reckless,” but was cut off mid sentence by Sonic.

“Pleeeaaase?”

Scowling, Shadow averted his eyes from Sonic’s puppy dog face. “It’s your decision,” Shadow said, knowing that if he didn’t agree, Sonic would probably just do it anyway. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Sonic beamed when Shadow held out his hand. He took it eagerly, pulling himself up onto his feet as quickly as he dared. He put most of his weight onto his good leg, so the twinge in his bad one was kept to a minimum.

“Satisfied?” Shadow asked.

But Sonic wasn’t. Not yet. He dared to take a step forward, and the brace clacked against the hard linoleum floor when he did so. Now all he had to do was put his weight on it, and he would’ve taken his first real step since waking up in that crater yesterday. 

Sonic knew it was going to hurt. But he didn’t care, and after he took that one, small, painful step, all he could do was beam.

“Yeah,” Sonic said, giving Shadow’s hand a squeeze. “Now I am. Thanks.”

[lonely-eli]

Trippin' On Hallucinogenics - Chapter 3

The four of them entered a great hall together, lit up by candles that floated. Barty didn’t pay much attention to it, instead watching the faces of the muggle borns light up in wonder. They were all wearing identical uniforms, black robes and ugly hats. Barty shifted his hat self consciously, but Evan and Regulus seemed unbothered. Pandora was already waving to someone at another table, they smiled and waved back.

Barty watched Regulus lock eyes with his brother, then he watched Regulus turn away. His brother, Sirius, looked upset but quickly distracted himself with his friends. The boy with glasses from earlier, a short kid who looked constantly nervous, and a boy who looked like someone not to fuck with. Barty thought that they were an interesting group.

Professor McGonagall, as she introduced herself, brought out the hat. Barty stared at it, it was a pathetic looking thing. A ratty old witch hat who’s creases formed a mouth and eyes which it was currently using to spew bad poetry.

Barty wanted to ignore the poet entirely, but after a shared look with Evan, he decided to bump Evan on the shoulder, and do a little jig to the poetry. Evan didn’t seem to find it amusing, but Barty saw his lips twitch.

Professor McGonagall as she introduced herself, started to call out names. A kid in Gryffindor was met with claps from all tables, another in Slytherin was met with hoots from that crowd, and on and on it went until they reached the first in Barty’s group—

“Regulus Black!”

Barty saw Regulus suck in a deep breath before coming forward. He sat on the stool which looked to be almost broken, and the entire hall went silent except for a few whispers. Sirius Black seemed to be holding his breath just like Regulus. Finally McGonagall went to put The Sorting Hat on his head, “SLYTHERIN.”

Regulus let out a sigh of relief as the crowd erupted into cheer. He hopped down from the stool and strode over to the Slytherin table. Barty hooted and whooped along with all the Slytherins. Sirius didn’t seem happy.

A few more kids went before it got to Barty.

“Barty Crouch Jr.!” McGonagall called out.

Barty sauntered up to the stool and confidently sat down, all he was thinking was Slytherin. The Sorting hat was placed on his head and suddenly he heard a voice boom in his ear.

“Ravenclaw!” The Sorting Hat said.

“What?” Barty hissed.

He had known that he would get in Ravenclaw, his father had been drilling into him that “Crouch’s were Ravenclaw’s”, and he had told his group that much on the train, but he hadn’t actually wanted it.

You’re not even going to talk with me?! He thought, but the Hat was already being grabbed off of his head. He almost grabbed it back and forced it back on, he would not be a Ravenclaw!

But the Ravenclaws were all cheering, though it was dying off once they realized that Barty wasn’t making a move to leave the stool. He glared at the crowd of faces, I am a Slytherin. I am not a Ravenclaw. I am not my father.  Pandora was clapping and looked delighted, Evan even looked up for a second. Finally, Barty cracked and walked over to the Ravenclaw table, numbly.

He didn’t even register when Evan and Pandora were called, all he knew was that Pandora was suddenly wrapping her arms around him and laughing.

“We’re Ravenclaws!” she shouted, the rest of the table looked at her wearily.

“Yay,” Barty replied softly, he looked to the Slytherin table where Regulus was already chatting with upper classmen. Evan was sitting next to him looking straight back at Barty.

“We have to have a sleepover in the commons room! I—”

Barty lost whatever Pandora said next because food appeared in front of them. He immediately started to shovel things onto his plate, Pandora laughed, “Hungry?”

“Yeah,” Barty responded, and stuffed his face full of shepard’s pie, so he wouldn’t have to continue talking to Pandora. She didn’t seem to mind and moved on to have a conversation with another Ravenclaw first year. 

When dinner was finished, the Ravenclaw prefect stood up, “Follow me.”

Barty and Pandora both went with him, while Regulus and Evan went with the Slytherin prefect. The Ravenclaw prefect bounced backwards while he talked to them, moving with the confidence of someone who had memorized every corridor.

“I’m Henry,” introduced the prefect, “I think you guys are really going to like it at Hogwarts. It’s filled with rich history.”

Barty rolled his eyes, ravenclaws. Then he got distracted with a painting for a little bit. It was of a caterpillar on a flower, it was currently making a cocoon for itself.

“Avoid Peeves as much as possible,” Henry continued, “He’ll eat your homework.”

Pandora laughed at that, Henry grinned. A nervous boy with scraggly blonde hair pushed his glasses further up his face nervously, “Is that true?” “Of course it is, Xeno!” Pandora said, clapping a hand on his back and waving her upside book around. 

The boy whose name was Xenophilius Lovegood did not seem as amused by this information. Barty smirked at the dejected expression on his face, like he was already imagining having to redo homework because it was eaten by a ghost.

Henry led them up Ravenclaw Tower, until they reached a large door, “You have to answer its riddle. The riddle right now is, rich people need it, poor people have it, and if you eat it then you die.”

Nothing.

“Nothing!” Pandora screamed.

The bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle screeched and the door opened. Barty walked into the commons room and was immediately struck by how free it was.

There were windows on all sides that looked out on the rest of the ground, Barty ran to one and saw the Quidditch pitch. He glanced at Pandora who was ogling the window showing the forbidden forest. There was also a library filled to the top with books and more on the ground along with a reading nook that kids were already taking advantage of.

Henry showed the boys to their dorms and the girls to theirs. Barty wandered into his dorm, and found that all of his stuff, excluding a ferret, was there at the foot of his bed. He grabbed the books that he had brought and arranged them on his bedside table before pulling the blankets over his head. He flicked his wand.

“Lumos,” he cast, feeling the magic leave his body and form a small light at the tip of his wand. It was the first spell that he taught himself, a basic spell. He had tried Wingardium Levioso but that hadn’t worked as well without proper wand training—

“Maybe I do belong here,” Barty muttered to himself, casting nox and placing his wand on his bedside table. He fell back on the bed and snuggled into the pillows. He wondered what Evan and Regulus were doing right now, or even what Pandora was doing. Though he could probably guess the answer to that, Regulus was being weird and grumpy, Evan was not paying attention to anyone and was being a jerk, Pandora was talking with her roommates and already calling them “roomie”.  He kind of hoped that Evan and Regulus got roomed together so at least they could know someone, though they are both likely to act like strangers to each other. 

He wondered if his mother was crying on her first night without him, sad and lonely with her son at school and her husband chasing after dark wizards. He wanted to reach out and hug her to get her to stop crying, maybe just being there would get her too.

All of this slipped his mind, however, as he slowly drifted off to sleep, his wand the only comfort at his side.

***

Barty Crouch woke up to his roommates shuffling around the room. He groaned and threw an arm over his head, “Could you do that any louder?”

He looked up to see that Lovegood was staring at him with wide eyes, “I thought I was the last one to wake up!”

“Yeah well you weren’t,” Barty snapped, he got up and held his head in his hands. It felt like he hadn’t slept at all. He hadn’t even dreamed.

“I didn’t see you,” Lovegood pouted. Barty glared at him, then got up.

“It’s too late, I’m already up.”

Barty hopped up from his bed and grabbed his uniform, it was a robe with blue accents, and a blue and black striped tie. He then went into the bathroom which was perfectly arranged with all of their things. He went into the bathroom and got ready.

When he came back out, Xenophilius was gone. Barty walked out of the room, a girl in the commons room was still there and pacing.

“Hey, do you know the way to breakfast?”

“Yeah,” the girl said, “Why?”

“Can you give me the directions?”

“Sure, here,” the second year reached into his pocket and drew out a map to the great hall, “We can walk together.”

“Sure,” Barty said, “Barty.”

“Emmeline Vance,” she greeted, holding out her hand, “My friends abandoned me and already left. You’re the one who didn’t want to be in Ravenclaw.”

Barty nodded, then quickly went back on his decision, “It’s not like that—”

“I think most Ravenclaws are good enough at reading people,” she laughed, “It’s fine, I didn’t really want to be in Ravenclaw either. I wanted to be in Slytherin more, even if it is full of jerks.”

They started to walk out, Barty eyes lit up.

“My friends got sorted into Slytherin, I only know one person here.”

Emmeline nodded, “I promise that you’ll make friends here, we’re not just about studying. And hopefully you’ll get to know your roommates.”

Barty groaned, “Lovegood’s already woke me up.”

Emmeline snorted. They arrived at the Great Hall, Pandora saw them and waved Barty over, “Barty! Emmie!”

“Hey, Panda,” Emmeline said, sitting down next to Pandora. Barty sat across from the two of them.

Pandora shoved a piece of bacon in her mouth, “You should go say hi to Evan and Reggie, Barty.”

“Reggie?” Barty snorted.

“You’re friends with Regulus Black?” Emmeline asked. Pandora nodded happily.

“Of course she is, she’s apparently friends with everyone,” Barty said.

“Did you know that we’re technically sorcerers?” Pandora asked, “Because we’re born with our magic—”

Emmeline opened her mouth to add something, and Barty stood up, “I’m going to go say hi to the boys.”

He went to the Slytherin table where Evan and Regulus were sitting together. Regulus was having a conversation with another greasy looking second year. He didn’t notice Barty's approach. Evan looked at Barty but then nodded his head as Barty snuck up behind Regulus. 

“As I said Snape, my brother is none of your concern.”

“Hey Reggie,” Barty whispered in his ear. Regulus turned around so quickly, he head butted Barty in the nose, “Ow.”

“You deserve that, Crouch,” Evan said without looking, he didn’t have any food on his plate.

“Never call me that. What do you want, Ravenclaw?” Regulus asked at the same time.

“Just wanted to say hi, Black, Rosier.”

The second year, Snape, sneered at Barty. Who decidedly ignored him.

“Scoot.”

“This isn’t your table—” Regulus started, but was interrupted by Barty squeezing himself between Regulus and Evan.

“So how’s Ravenclaw treating you?” Evan asked.

“All they do is want to talk about smart people things,” Barty said, “I’m rooming with Lovegood.”

“Who?” Regulus asked. 

“Some annoying mousy kid,” Barty said.

“That’s a shame,” Evan said without any sympathy.

“I know,” Barty groaned, “He woke me up today.”

“Mr. Crouch—” a teacher said, suddenly appearing behind Barty, “Please return to your table.” “Right away, Sir,” Barty said, then he tapped Evan and Regulus on the shoulder, “See you later, boys.”

Barty hopped back to his own table where Lovegood was going on about a government conspiracy. He caught Evan’s eyes and rolled his eyes, Evan snorted and looked back at his own food.

“Do you agree Barty?”

“Agree with what?”

“That the government is secretly trying to hide the truth about Nargles.”

“What’s a Nargle?”

Xenophilius happily started the conversation again. Pandora eventually took out her upside down book and started reading it. Lovegood nodded at her.

“Reading books upside down does reveal the truth,” he squeaked, turning red, Pandora smiled to address him.

Suddenly there was a scream from the Gryffindor, Pandora startled and looked over, Barty did the same. Emmeline seemed dead to the noise. It was Sirius and his friends, they were shoving at the scarred boy and laughing.

“REMUS,” he heard the boy with glasses shout.

“Ignore them,” Emmeline said, glaring at the group, “They’re always this loud.”

The only one who seemed aware of everyone’s eyes on them was Remus who was turning red and trying to lower himself in his seat. The other second years weren’t letting him live whatever he had done down.

Finally breakfast ended, and everyone took out their schedules. Pandora grabbed Barty’s arm as he started to walk away, “We have potions first today. With the Hufflepuffs.” “Okay, Panda Doodle,” Barty just said the first thing that came to his brain, but Pandora smiled at the nickname.

Pandora slid her arm in Barty’s and marched towards the class. Barty just followed along.

[neopuff]

ALWAYS ON MY MIND

chapter three: a piece of my mind ships: sasha/milla characters: milla, truman, forsythe, 33, sasha, oleander, otto, sherri ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53435410/chapters/135591166

[chap 1] [chap 2]

-

The next morning, Milla made her way to the Grand Head's office for an early morning meeting. She was very comfortable speaking to Truman - he was a friendly man and when he wasn't too terribly busy they got along just fine. However, lately he had been so busy that they really hadn't had a lot of chances to speak. 

Their meeting the previous morning had been the first time Milla had spoken to him in almost two weeks. Occasionally he would pawn her off on Agent Forsythe, but Milla didn't have the same history with her nor the same level of comfort. 

Milla took a seat in the chair she always sat in, brushing dust off the end of her dress. Truman was already looking anxious, ready for his next meeting which was undoubtedly going to involve something to do with finances. From her perspective, it seemed like the Psychonauts were always dealing with financial problems.

“So how did the training go with Agent Nein yesterday?” Truman asked Milla curiously. “I hope he was as helpful with training as he was with your tour last month.”

Milla had a feeling he was going to ask her that, and she had already planned to respond with a follow-up question. “Truman…I’ve noticed that you only seem to ask me this type of question after I spend time with Agent Nein. I've also worked with Agents Forsythe and Oleander and Aaronson, so it makes me wonder…is there something wrong with Agent Nein that I should know about?”

Truman chuckled and scratched the side of his head. Then he stood up, stretched, and cracked his back. “To be perfectly honest Milla, it's because I've heard…complaints about Agent Nein. It's nothing that I've seen personally, just talk around the rumor mill. I figured a fresh face like yours would give me an unbiased perspective on how Agent Nein handles himself around other Psychonauts.”

“Oh, I see.” Milla tilted her head slightly, not surprised to hear that. She'd heard a few rumors about Sasha in just the few weeks she'd been working there. There were many Psychonauts employees that enjoyed gossiping, and though Milla enjoyed it on occasion, it was…a little much sometimes. “Well, Sasha has been nothing but kind and professional with me. He's been extremely helpful and respectful. I really enjoyed our training session yesterday.”

“That's very exciting to hear,” Truman said with a genuine smile. 

“He even allowed me to view one of his memory vaults,” Milla added as a bonus. “He seems like a very private person, so I was surprised by that.”

“Did he now?” Truman glanced at a notebook on his desk and quickly grabbed a pen, wrote something down, then closed the notebook. “Thank you, Milla. I've always liked Sasha so I'm happy to hear that he's getting along with someone.”

She paused a moment before adding another comment. “Is that so unusual? On my first day, Agent Nein introduced me to several people and seemed to have a friendly relationship with all of them.”

“Several people, hm?” Truman tapped his chin with the pencil he picked up earlier. “That’s the first time I’ve heard about Nein socializing. Hopefully with Hollis’ new promotion, I’ll have more time to pay attention!”

Milla smiled, happy that Truman was listening to her. She didn't know Agent Nein very well, but her interactions with him had been very pleasant and she didn’t want him to get in trouble because of some stupid rumors. “Is it really so bad if he’s a bit, um…antisocial?” she asked curiously. “From what I’ve heard, he’s a perfectly capable agent, so what does it matter?”

Truman sighed and glanced at the clock again. “It’s not about his social life. It’s about how well he works with others. Many of our operations involve partnerships or big teams and I’ve heard other agents say he’s not the best team player. He’s been told to work on it, but I was curious if he’d been putting in any noticeable effort.”

She nodded her head, finally understanding. “Like I said, he’s been very professional around me. But it’s possible he behaves differently out in the field, so I can only comment on what I know.”

“Of course!” He opened that notebook again and scribbled something else down. “Now I hate to toss you out, but I have an important meeting with Agent Mentallis in a few minutes and I’d like some time to eat my breakfast before he gets here.”

“Oh!” Milla levitated herself out of the chair and floated a few inches above the floor. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

As she turned around to leave, Truman added one last comment: “Don’t worry too much about Sasha, alright? He’s not going to get in trouble, I’m just looking out for him.”

She turned her head and nodded, continuing towards the tunnel and almost running into Agent Mentallis on her way. He smiled and greeted her casually, and then she levitated back down to the Nerve Center where there were a dozen agents floating around and talking. Three that caught Milla’s eye were Agents Forsythe, 33, and someone she didn’t recognize.

Agent Forsythe noticed Milla immediately. “Agent Vodello! Come over here.”

Milla plopped to the floor, staring at the senior agent and feeling suddenly nervous. She walked over as fast as her legs would take her. “Um…yes?”

“I need your assistance on a mission,” Agent Forsythe said quickly, levitating a sheet of paper into Milla’s hands. “We leave in ten minutes.”

“That’s…fast,” Milla said out loud and immediately wished she hadn’t.

Agent Forsythe raised an eyebrow at her. “I can always find someone else.”

“No, no! I’ll go grab a coffee and meet you outside!” Milla quickly levitated out of the room and rushed towards the Noodle Bowl. The coffee there wasn’t particularly good, but it was enough to get her through the day. And though Milla respected Agent Forsythe, the woman was terribly intimidating. She’d need the extra boost.

It took her less than seven minutes to get her coffee and make her way to the outside of the Motherlobe, where Agent Forsythe and Agent 33 were just starting to make their way into the jet. Milla followed obediently - she had very little information about this mission, but was too eager to pass up an opportunity to work alongside Agent Forsythe.

As the older woman started the jet, Milla sat down not far from Agent 33, whom she’d never really had the pleasure of spending much time with. Agent 33 was known for her secrecy and didn’t socialize much with other agents. But Milla liked to get to know people.

Before she could reach out a hand for their first real greeting, 33 surprised Milla by reaching out first. “Have we met before?”

“Not officially,” Milla answered, shaking her head. She took a moment to think about how she’d introduce herself - her time at the Motherlobe had been interesting, thanks to Sasha’s mispronunciation and her being too nervous to correct him. Most people within the Psychonauts pronounced her name as Sasha had, and though it’d grown on her over the past month…it was still strange. Her nickname, however, sounded very cute with the mispronunciation, and she’d been trying to get more people to use that. It could be difficult to force a nickname, but she figured she was still new enough to try. “Milla. Milla Vodello,” she said finally, grabbing 33’s hand back.

“You can call me 33,” the other woman answered. “I know it’s a bit unorthodox, but I really don’t like giving out my real name unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“It’s understandable. From what I’ve read, life as a Psychonaut can be dangerous,” Milla responded thoughtfully.

“It certainly can,” Agent Forsythe said, joining the two of them and taking a seat across from them. “You two are briefed on the basic information, right?”

Milla frowned, remembering the piece of paper that was handed to her earlier. She’d glanced at it, but then got so distracted by the idea of coffee that she hadn’t bothered to read the thing in full. It was burning a hole in her pocket and she felt terribly, awfully nervous as she thought about what to say next.

Agent 33 cut in with her own answer. “Small town - I forget the name. Bunch of people claiming to have weird dreams all featuring the same man. There's not a lot of information to go on, so what’s the game plan?”

Forsythe was writing something down in a small notebook. “We’re just information gathering at this point. 33 - I want you down there, acting as a citizen. Get them to trust us so they’ll tell us what’s going on. Vodello - you’ll be with me. We’re asking simple, non-invasive questions. Get them to describe the man, describe what he does in the dream, describe anything strange they’ve noticed while awake. Keep it relatively simple, don’t go overboard. Got it?”

33 gave a thumbs up and Milla nodded slowly, feeling like she was playing catch-up. At least she understood what the assignment was. “How long until we arrive?”

“Shouldn’t be long. Ten more minutes, maybe, then we’ll have to hoof it into town so the people don’t freak out about the jet.” Agent Forsythe sighed and wrote a few more things down in her notebook. “Do either of you have any questions?”

There was one question on Milla’s mind. It was possible that Agent Forsythe had chosen her for this mission simply because she was in the right place at the right time. But it also felt like she’d been specifically chosen for the task, and she didn’t quite understand why. Agent Mentallis giving her an assignment because she’s photogenic was one thing, but she really hoped Agent Forsythe wasn’t only bringing her along because people found her easy to talk to.

She had a lot more to offer the Psychonauts than that, after all. “I do, actually. Um…”

The two other agents stared at her, 33 filing her nails with a file she’d pulled out of thin air. Agent Forsythe raised a curious eyebrow. “Spit it out, then.”

“...why exactly did you ask me to come along? Just because I was walking by?”

Agent Forsythe tilted her head, seemingly surprised by the question. Then she glanced over at Agent 33, who proceeded to get up and walk to the front of the jet, giving them a semblance of privacy. “Not at all. I specifically wanted your insights here, Agent Vodello.”

“My insights?” Milla pouted, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve read your file - I’d consider you a nightmare expert, and this situation could quickly turn ugly if things go the way I expect them to. I’m hoping your experiences with nightmares will help us identify any warning signs or anything that could indicate some kind of nightmare contagion or epidemic.”

Milla felt her mind grow cold for a moment. Of all the responses she expected, that was certainly not one of them. Agent Forsythe knew about her history, at least parts of it, and brought it up so casually in a way that Truman never had. It was shocking, and slightly off-putting…but also weirdly cathartic. Knowing that her traumatic experiences could actually lead to her helping people who needed it was nice. Like the terrible, awful things she went through weren’t completely in vain.

“O-oh,” Milla answered finally. “Well…then I hope you’re right. I’m happy to help.”

Forsythe gave her a little nod, then stood up to join Agent 33 at the helm.

Milla sat there on the bench in the middle of the jet, feeling out-of-place. She’d gone on a handful of large group missions, trained one-on-one with other agents on occasion, and she’d been preparing herself for the two-to-three group missions that Psychonauts were so well-known for. But actually being a part of it was strange. She wondered if Agent Forsythe even realized that this was her first time on a real, covert Psychonauts assignment.

“We’re just about there,” Agent Forsythe announced, taking a seat to manually land the jet. “Are you both ready?”

Milla looked up to find Agent Forsythe and Agent 33 standing there, confident-as-ever - but 33 looked like a completely different person than the last time Milla had seen her. Which was only a few minutes earlier. It was ridiculous how skilled the woman was at disguising herself.

“I’m ready, Agent Forsythe,” Milla finally said.

x

The mission took a lot longer than Milla had expected.

By the time they’d arrived back at the Motherlobe, it was almost one o’clock - and in all her excitement, Milla had forgotten to say anything to Agent Nein before they’d left. After giving her quick goodbyes to Agents Forsythe and 33, she rushed towards the classroom despite being almost two hours late.

The room was empty. He wasn’t there. Milla frowned and almost smacked herself on the head - of course he wasn’t there! Why the hell would he sit around waiting for hours? He was a busy man with things to do.

So her next stop was across the lobby and up to his office. The aquarium distracted her for a moment, but in that same moment, Sasha Nein began making his way towards the lobby and also passed by the aquarium, though he was staring at his watch instead of paying attention to where he was walking. Milla turned around just in time to stop him from bumping into her. She placed her hands against his shoulders to steady him.

His hands moved down almost instinctively, and hovered over her hips for a brief moment before he pulled them back, just as Milla pulled her hands off of him. He seemed confused, but more about her presence than anything else.

“Agent Nein!”

“Agent Vodello,” he said casually, as if she hadn’t stood him up a few hours earlier.

“I-I’m so sorry.” Milla ran her fingers through her hair, feeling embarrassed. “Agent Forsythe asked me to join her on an assignment and I didn’t realize how long it would take. I feel absolutely terrible, I really hope you weren’t waiting long.”

Sasha shrugged, clearly unbothered. “It’s fine. You should always take any opportunity to work with Agent Forsythe. She can teach you a lot - more than I can, certainly.”

He continued on his path towards the lobby and Camilla floated beside him, hands clasped in front of her chest. “I still feel bad for not telling you. Could I at least buy you a coffee to make it up to you?”

Sasha stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her, curious about her response. He honestly didn’t mind that she’d missed their meeting time - he’d taken a half hour or so and just worked on organizing his mind. The classroom was peaceful, away from the hustle and bustle of the lobby or the Nerve Center, and he liked the quiet. She should’ve told him, sure, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

She was so apologetic though, and he almost felt bad that he didn’t care as much as she’d expected him to. He might’ve been a little disappointed more than anything, but he didn’t think there was any reason to inform her of that.

Getting coffee with her - in the Noodle Bowl, publicly, in front of so many other people - even just the concept made him feel nervous. Sasha took a deep breath, though he really just wanted another cigarette, and considered the offer. Her timing was good, since he had, in fact, been on his way to the Noodle Bowl for lunch. But he was worried other people would…notice them. He didn’t really enjoy being noticed, and Camilla always attracted the attention of others.

Sasha went back and forth on how to answer her for what felt like millenia (though was actually less than a second), and finally decided that he didn’t give a shit what other people thought. He enjoyed spending time with her and even if he didn’t - she was making the offer as professional courtesy and it would be rude of him to dismiss it.

“I was actually headed to lunch if you’d like to join me,” Sasha answered, finally, trying to remain cool despite the itch he felt inside his chest.

Camilla smiled brightly and clapped her hands together. “That’d be perfect! I’m buying!” she said enthusiastically, levitating ahead of him.

He followed behind her, awkwardly trying to keep up the same pace while walking. Though he’d never be as naturally talented at it as she was, Sasha knew he needed to spend more time working on his levitation skills. Generally it wasn’t an ability that he put much thought into, but Camilla was giving him a new perspective on it.

It was a little late for lunch, so the Noodle Bowl wasn’t as crowded as usual. Which eased Sasha’s nerves slightly, though he was completely aware of the eyes that locked onto him and Agent Vodello when they entered the room together. It wasn’t everyone, of course, but there were at least two or three people in the room that were paying more attention to them than necessary.

Camilla either didn’t notice them or didn’t care - going through the line, grabbing her rice bowl that contained a ridiculous amount of cilantro, and levitating over to one of the two-person tables by the windows.

He followed her, mostly silent, nodding or giving an affirmative hum when she asked him simple questions about his food or drink preferences. He wasn’t used to eating with someone else.

A moment after he set his tray down, Camilla perked up with a pointer finger in the air. “Oops, forgot to get a drink!”

“I’ll get it for you. What would you like?”

“Just a water please!” she answered with a sweet smile.

Sasha nodded and walked back towards the café line. He knew he could just telekinetically grab two waters, but it always felt strange to use his psychic powers in those types of situations. Not every employee working in the Motherlobe had such abilities, after all. He had no reason to show off or make anyone feel ostracized.

He grabbed the water bottles and turned back around to find Camilla chatting with Agent Forsythe, who’d apparently appeared out of nowhere. Not wanting to interrupt, Sasha headed back slowly (but not too slowly, since he was curious about the conversation).

“You should be hearing from Truman soon with more information.”

“Thank you for telling me, Agent Forsythe! And thank you again for bringing me along.”

Agent Forsythe gave the younger woman a small smile. “I think we worked well together, Milla. I’ll make sure it happens more often.” And with that, she walked away, giving Sasha a brief nod when she noticed him.

Sasha took his seat and handed one water to Camilla, more interested in their conversation than his meal. “Seems like you made a good impression this morning.”

Agent Vodello chuckled in response, a charming blush against her cheeks. “I guess so! I don’t want to jinx anything.”

He took a sip of his water. “You know, she’d probably be happy to train with you in her free time,” he suggested casually.

“Ohh, but I really like your style,” Camilla said with a forkful of food in front of her mouth. She took a moment to eat it before adding, “You’re very easy to train with! I felt like I learned a lot after just one session.”

Sasha’s itching need for a cigarette came back, and he decided not to ignore it this time. He wondered if she realized how much of a compliment that was - his style of training and teaching was frequently dismissed by other Psychonauts. Hearing someone as lively and kind as Camilla Vodello saying she felt like his methods were effective was certainly enough to make him blush. Unable to fight the urge any longer, he quickly grabbed a new cigarette and almost missed the woman in front of him flinch when he lit the end.

Probably related to her issues with pyrokinesis, he surmised. If she had an issue, he was sure she’d say something to him.

“And there it is,” Camilla commented quietly with a smirk on her face.

“I- um…” Sasha cleared his throat and took a nice, long drag. “I also thought yesterday went well. You seem to learn quickly and it’s nice to, ah…be listened to.” He paused for a moment, then added, “A-and thank you.”

She smiled again, thanked him quickly and then took a minute to focus on her food. The food at the Noodle Bowl wasn’t particularly good, but it wasn’t the worst. No one seemed to possess the psychic ability to put together extravagant meals, but discounted and perfectly edible meals were certainly good enough for him. He recalled that there used to be a restaurant or two across the Quarry, but they’d been closed for some time. Not enough customers around to bother keeping any place open.

They chatted while they ate - about Brazil, and about Germany, and about Oleander and Forsythe and Truman - and Sasha was both mortified and embarrassed to learn that an hour had gone by without him noticing. He was about to cut them off and say he needed to get back to work when they were interrupted again.

“Milla!”

They both turned to see Agent Forsythe again, just on the other side of the Noodle Bowl. Sasha noted that she’d called her Milla again, so it wasn’t just his ears playing a trick on him earlier. A nickname from Hollis Forsythe was unexpected, he felt. She’d always been a very formal, professional woman.

“Truman wants to talk to us now, so finish up and I’ll see you and 33 in his office ASAP.”

Camilla gave the woman a thumbs up before turning back to Sasha with a guilty, toothy smile. “I’m so sorry to cut this off so suddenly, but this was fun! We should do it again sometime.”

When he’d run into Camilla outside Agent Mentallis’ lab the day before, Sasha had assumed she’d offered to make plans with him just because she was a polite person following normal social graces. After their lunch, however, he was comfortable accepting the fact that she genuinely wanted to spend time with him again. And not just professionally, as he was more used to, but socially. It was strange, but left a pleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach.

It’d been a long time since he actually made a friend. And he didn’t want to screw it up by assuming too much, but he also wanted to make sure she understood that he enjoyed socializing with her. So he tapped his fingers on the small table between them and responded with, “It’s no problem, I should get back to work anyway. And, uh…yes, we should. Maybe Friday?”

“Friday I promised to eat lunch with Kim, but how about Monday?” she answered quickly, standing up and brushing her dress down.

“That’s fine with me.”

“Perfect!” Camilla smiled again and grabbed her tray. “If there’s time, maybe we can train afterwards, too!”

Sasha grabbed the edge of his sunglasses and adjusted them slightly, still deciding if he wanted to try being casual and cool. He did, he did. It was just difficult to build himself up to it. “I’d like that. I’ll see you around…Milla.”

She responded with a small smirk and a twinkle in her eyes that told Sasha he’d definitely made the right decision in copying Agent Forsythe’s nickname. The smile didn’t leave her face even as she levitated out of the room, ceremoniously dumping her tray with telekinesis to save time. He watched her go and then the room suddenly felt very cold and empty as he turned back to how he was sitting before.

He looked down at his food. It was barely eaten - he’d been so engrossed in their conversation that he’d forgotten the entire reason he came to the lunchroom in the first place, apparently.

There was a light tinge of pink on his cheeks as he quickly ate his (unfortunately, room temperature) food. Camilla - er, Milla, as he would start to think of her - had the potential to be very distracting for him. Sasha hoped their new friendship would soon feel normal for him and he could quickly settle back into his regular routine.

In the following days, Sasha found himself hyper aware of Milla anytime they were both in the lobby. Even if they were on opposite sides or in two distinctly different conversations, his eyes would be drawn to her for at least a moment, and then his thoughts would be stuck on her for an embarrassing amount of time. It was…not unpleasant. But not pleasant, either. He felt like he was breaking some rule he didn’t know about, which didn’t make much sense since they were, technically speaking, friendly with one another. Friends, she might even say.

Friends.

It was Thursday morning and she was on the other side of the lobby again. In an animated conversation with two other Psychonauts, not paying attention to the lanky, green man standing by the mural of the Psychic 6 and trying his best not to stare at her.

Sasha pushed up his sunglasses and glared down at Morry, who’d been ranting to him for the past few minutes about young people and how little respect they had for their elders anymore. Sasha didn’t interact with enough young people to have any opinion on the subject, though he was sure Oleander was just referencing an article he’d read in the newspaper. He was a man who often got angry about things he’d read, whether or not it was true or had any affect on him whatsoever wasn’t important.

As Morry moved onto something else, Sasha’s thoughts wandered back to Milla. She was wearing a dress today that he’d never seen her in before, which made him wonder about how many dresses she owned. They were all so bright and colorful, which he usually didn’t enjoy, but the colors always complimented her.

“Nein, I swear to God, if you tuned out everything I just said, I’ll smack you silly,” Oleander threatened, bringing Sasha’s thoughts back to him.

Sasha responded by crossing his arms over his chest. “Your oatmeal was too sweet and you had to throw it out. You got a birthday card from your uncle, but it’s been four months since your birthday. You’re thinking about getting a new car, but are worried about paying off another loan. Did I miss anything important?”

Morceau glared harder and raised a fist at the man in front of him. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you, you- you incompetent Kraut?”

Sasha rolled his eyes, having been called similar things by his coworker plenty of times over the years. It could’ve been worse. “Well. I certainly don’t think of myself as dumb.”

“I certainly don’t think of myself as dumb!” Morry responded in a mocking tone. “C’mon, Nein. Don’t play coy with me. If you wanna stare at Vodello like a creep, then tell me! I’ll be your wingman!”

Mortified, but refusing to outwardly show it, Sasha responded by tightening his grip on his arms and straightening his back, making him even taller than the height-challenged agent that was so delighted to point out something so embarrassing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right.”

“I’m serious, Morry,” he said sternly. “I don’t want you making her uncomfortable.”

Oleander laughed and then playfully punched Sasha in the arm, though it hurt more than he likely intended. “If anyone was gonna make her uncomfortable, it’d probably be the one staring at her like a watchdog!”

“Morry.”

“What? What?” Morceau glared. “You still can’t take a joke, huh?”

Sasha sighed, trying to stall while he thought of a reasonable explanation for his own behavior. He didn’t really have an actual explanation, if he was being honest, but he needed to come up with something to keep Oleander off his back and prevent the man from saying anything weird to Milla. He didn’t have a lot of friends and he’d be ashamed of himself if he managed to lose this one so quickly.

As he thought about that, he finally took note of who exactly Milla was talking to across the room - it was Agents Forsythe and 33, again. In fact, he frequently saw Milla with one or both of them, which he assumed was related to whatever case they were working on. A case which, for some reason, he’d not been brought into.

It was taking multiple missions and multiple meetings and multiple days - normally Sasha was included on any larger assignments like that, since he’d been with the Psychonauts for so long. But instead, Vodello and 33 were the ones that’d been recruited for it. Which was fine, honestly, but he didn’t really understand why he was being excluded. It caught his attention in that moment, and also struck him as a perfectly good explanation to Morceau.

“Agent Vodello has been meeting with Agents Forsythe and 33 repeatedly this week. Often with Grand Head Zanotto as well,” Sasha explained quietly. “I’m simply curious what’s going on.”

“Sure, sure,” Morry responded - acting like he didn’t believe Sasha, but turning to stare at the three women on the other side of the lobby. He put a hand to his chin as he seemed to acknowledge that Sasha was telling the truth. “It’s probably got somethin’ to do with this nightmare problem.”

“Nightmare problem?”

“Yeah. I don’t know the details, just heard some agents chatting about it earlier.” Morry shrugged. “Some nearby town is getting all nightmare-crazed and no one knows why.”

Sasha gave an affirmative hum as his response, shoving his hands into his pockets and glancing over at Milla again. Though this time, his eyes landed on Forsythe - who was staring right back at him. He quickly turned to Morceau and cleared his throat. “I should get back to work. Let me know if you find out any details about this.”

“I’ll ask around, but some of us have camp planning to work on!” Morry answered with a wag of his finger. “We can’t all just sit in our offices, twiddling our thumbs all day!”

“Right. I’ll keep that in mind next time I need you for anything,” Sasha responded with a roll of his eyes, and then he quickly levitated towards his office.

When Monday afternoon rolled around, Sasha had been helping Agent Mentallis set up one of his new Otto-Matic devices in the lobby when he noticed Milla again. She’d had to cancel their lunch for another sudden mission with Agent Forsythe and he ended up spending the late afternoon with his mentor instead. It was certainly not a waste of time, so he didn’t mind, but his thoughts kept drifting to this nightmare-related situation that he wasn’t being apprised of.

Milla noticed him quickly after she drifted into the room, and she shot Sasha a quick wave before following Forsythe and 33 to the Nerve Center. Sasha waved back in a way that he hoped looked relaxed and not awkward like he felt, but based on Agent Mentallis’ reaction, he had a feeling it did not.

“That’s the girl who stood you up for two dates in a row, right?” the older man asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

Sasha sighed and reached into his pocket for a cigarette, as he often did when Agent Mentallis made his little jokes and comments. “Not dates. And she was called for an assignment.”

“Right, of course.” He turned back to his machine, which wasn’t turning on no matter how many times he pressed the power button. “Oleander tells me you’ve been staring at her. I sure hope that’s not true!”

“Wh-? Why in the world would you two-?!” Sasha had to take a drag of his cigarette before he got too frustrated. He didn’t understand gossip. He’d never understand it. Gathering information was important, but talking about office interpersonal relationships was not. “I already explained to him that I’ve been trying to learn more about the missions she and Agent Forsythe keep going on.”

“Oh, yeah. Something to do with a nightmare town, right?” Agent Mentallis asked, still trying to press the power button.

“That’s what I’ve heard.” Sasha levitated around the side of the Otto-Matic, not completely surprised to find the plug laying on the ground next to the outlet. He sighed and telekinetically plugged it in.

“Hey! Would you look at that?” Agent Mentallis shouted as the device finally turned on. “This is gonna revolutionize things for you active agents, I promise you that!”

Sasha smoked his cigarette again, happy that Agent Mentallis was too distracted by his machinery to continue their conversation. He was quite tired of people making assumptions about his intentions with Agent Vodello. He didn’t have any intentions besides attempting to be her friend and he hoped that no one was suggesting otherwise to her.

“And, y’know, Sasha…” the older man added suddenly. “You could always try asking her out first. It’s easier than you’d think!”

“Gott in Himmel,” Sasha groaned. He really thought he’d gotten out of that conversation unscathed. “You are ridiculous, you realize that?”

He laughed in response and smacked the side of his Otto-Matic when the audio briefly stopped working. “An old man like myself has to find ways to entertain himself.”

“I’d stick to the machines if I were you.” Sasha glanced to the side and noticed Agent Forsythe emerge from the Nerve Center alone - she turned and headed towards the new wing, likely to get something from her office. He looked between her and Agent Mentallis, then decided he needed to man up and just ask her directly what was going on. “I’m going to go talk to Agent Forsythe. Do you need anything else from me?”

“You’re not reporting me, are you?” Agent Mentallis asked, feigning shock. “I bet Hollis would be happy to kick me outta here. She says I’m expensive!”

Sasha rolled his eyes. “No, Agent Mentallis. I’m going to ask her about this nightmare situation.” He started to walk towards the other side of the lobby. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye-bye, Nein!” Agent Mentallis responded, attention fully back on his Otto-Matic since the sound cut out again. He grumbled and smacked the side of it. “It was working fine in my lab! He better not’ve damaged it on the way here…”

As he worked on that, a certain yellow-skinned, red-haired agent was absentmindedly trying to read a magazine while sitting on a nearby couch when she decided to give up and just sighed loudly instead. She’d been eavesdropping on the conversation between Agents Mentallis and Nein, and she was so, so curious about what they’d been talking about.

It sounded like Sasha Nein had some kind of little crush on Milla Vodello. And that was a juicy piece of information that she wished she could tell somebody about.

Unfortunately, the last two people she’d attempted to gossip with had both complained and threatened to report her. So she sat there, alone, thinking about how nice it would be to have someone to talk back and forth with. Someone who understood how much fun it was to pay attention.

With another sigh, Sherri leaned her head back and stared up at the ceiling. She really needed a gossip buddy.

x

He caught up with Agent Forsythe as she was exiting her new office, and Sasha was glad that barely anyone used that hallway yet. Personally, he would’ve preferred to confront her in the confines of a room with a closed door, but he’d have to settle for a slightly public setting instead.

“Agent Forsythe.”

She looked up from the stack of papers in her hands and paused upon seeing him, plopping her feet back onto the ground. “Agent Nein. What’s going on?”

He stood firmly in front of her, holding his ground. It was true that Agent Forsythe could be intimidating, but he'd known her for over half a decade. He had to speak freely with her at some point. “I have something I need to discuss with you.”

Agent Forsythe stayed silent for a few moments, clearly waiting for him to continue. When he didn't start talking again, she responded. “Did you want to go to my office first, or…?”

“No. This is fine.” Sasha mentally berated himself for being so nervous. “It's about these missions you've been going on over the past week.”

“Ohhh, I see.” Agent Forsythe put a hand on her hip and shook her head. “Milla mentioned something about missing a lunch with you, but I need her for this, so you'll just have to wait a few more days ‘til we get this sorted out.”

Sasha took a deep breath, trying to ease the embarrassment of her assumptions. “No, that's not what I-!” He moved a hand to the side of his head, massaging a growing headache. “It's not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“This nightmare situation has continued for over a week past its initial assignment. I've noticed several meetings between you, Vodello, 33, and Grand Head Zanotto, which has led me to believe the situation has only gotten worse.” Sasha adjusted his sunglasses, as he often did when he felt like he'd been talking for too long. “Agent Vodello is a perfectly capable agent, I'm sure, but she's extremely new to this organization. I've been here for years. Why haven’t I been brought onto this assignment?”

Having spoken his peace, Sasha stuffed his hands into his pockets and hoped that he didn't get scolded for speaking out of turn. He wouldn't regret asking even if he did, but the thought of verbal punishment like that made the back of his neck sweaty.

“That's what this is about?” Agent Forsythe glanced at the clock on the wall, then looked back at him. “Agent Vodello is an expert with nightmares - her file is loaded with her history of fighting and containing them. I brought her into this because I thought her experience would make it a simple first mission.”

Sasha felt himself deflate a little. He didn't know that about Milla. He probably wasn't supposed to know that. “...oh.”

“You, on the other hand, need to be available in case something bigger comes up,” she continued. “Yes, the nightmare situation is…problematic. But it's contained within a small town - population less than two thousand. When a larger psychic problem inevitably comes up somewhere else in the world, I want you here and ready to take it on.”

Somehow, Agent Forsythe managed to make Sasha feel like both a fool and an irreplaceable member of their organization in one fell swoop. “I see. That…makes perfect sense.”

“I didn't think I’d need to update you on that,” Forsythe added. “But if you need more work to do, I know Oleander needs a lot of help with his big summer camp project.”

Sasha pushed his sunglasses up and shook his head. “No, I've got plenty. Just…wanted to know what was going on, is all.”

“Well, now you know.” Agent Forsythe levitated up into the air and floated past him. “Keep your eyes peeled, Nein. It's been a slow few weeks, which means psychic problems are just waiting to reveal themselves.”

He watched her float away and sighed again, feeling like a bit of a dope. Not only had he questioned a superior, but he'd inadvertently suggested that Agent Vodello wasn't important enough to be on missions that he wasn't on. What kind of friend did that make him?

And now he also knew that she was some sort of…nightmare expert.

Sasha’s thoughts drifted to little things she'd told him about her life prior to the Psychonauts, and his mind stalled when he started to think about the pain a powerful nightmare could bring to an otherwise healthy mind.

If he'd thought she was distracting before, Sasha knew it was just going to get worse.

[aimlesspixel]

ISAT: Scintillation Chapter 6

Spoilers for Isat ahead.

It's hard to fall asleep you're probably still excited from earlier. You breathe. The king's voice echoes through your mind "The mountains!!! The sea!!! The lightless sand, dark like the night sky!!!".

Could you see it now? The place you both lost? Do you want to? The stars twinkle outside the Inn.

You awaken to the sounds of people getting ready around you. You must have eventually fallen asleep watching them. You're still sleepy but the sun is already casting light on the inn. You move to get up and are surprised to see Isa moving around too, you didn't notice him getting up.

After a few more days of travel your conversation is cut short when- crack a branch breaks nearby snap another crk whatever it is it's getting closer, everyone gets into position for battle. After a moment it reveals itself. A sadness?

Odile - "I guess defeating the king can't fix all of the issues he caused." Isabeau - "Well at least we're fighting this one. One less for everyone else!" Mirabelle - "Hang back Sif don't overexert yourself!"

Bonnie at least seems happy to not be the only one on support. The fighting goes smoothly. A few blows back and forth then it's over.

Mira tends to Odiles damage while you go tend to Isa's.

Siffrin - "Doctor Sif at your service." Isabeau - "Oh my own personal doctor huh? Lucky me!"

Lucky him! You look through your bag it for some tonic. Isa's got a decent gash that you'd rather deal with now but… Seems they used most of the tonic supply when they were pushing through the house.

You know… you could save the tonic if you just healed him yourself. A little craft should be okay. Right? Yeah. You close your eyes and… [Done Heal]

Isabeau - "Whoa Sif I didn't know you could do that!"

You made sure they didn't know. Going through it all alone. Nevermind that though. Is Isa all right? Yes. Alright now to-

A wave of nausea washes over you.

Mirabelle - "Sif." Odile - "Siffrin…"

Your doctors don't seem to approve of your craft usage, not that you need them to let you know it was a bad idea.

Odile - "You wouldn't have happened to use craft on Isa when we could've waited for Mira instead right Siffrin?" Her smile seems to practically radiate frost. It's honestly impressive especially considering the enchantments on your cloak are temperature regulating.

Isabeau - "It was so cool though m'dame."

You let out a small chuckle against the dizziness lingering in your head.

Odile - "It doesn't matter how cool it is, Siffrin needs to lay off the craft we still don't know the extent to which their craft is exhausted." Mirabelle gives you a look of concern "Should we stop for today then?" Odile eyes you "Well Siffrin? How are you feeling?" Siffrin - "Stellar~." You go to stand up and- Isabeau - "Whoa!" Yeah Isa caught you on the way back down, definetly not getting that past Odile. At least he's feeling better (and very comfy to collapse into).

You're in charge of preparing the camp area with Mira while Isa get's firewood and Odile teaches Bonnie to cook a new recipe. It's Ka Buan but you can't upend your planning for a book you found after your last supply trip.

You're setting up the finishing touches on Odile's tent when you hear the ding ding of Mirabelles brooches approach.

Mirabelle - "That's just about it. Are you feeling better Sif?"

Your head is still thumping and you feel tired, so a solid no. You don't want to worry Mira but you can't lie to her either so you just look away.

Mirabelle - "Well?" Siffrin - "…" Siffrin - "Come on Mira no need to be so intents. I'm feeling a bit better."

Mirabelle appears annoyed for a moment before speaking "Well… all right but keep the puns down you know some of us find them, unbearable."

Was that a pun as well? It sounded like it but what's a bear again? You can hear her stammering slightly behind you.

Oh stars she's starting to worry you didn't like it! Do something!!! You turn to look at her and- wrong move she saw your confused look and it just got worse. Quick Siffrin Quick! Bear, bear, bear. It's an animal lives in the forest… AH yes!

You finally get it and laugh but stars that was hard. You really did start to rely on the loops to get these right, at least you got it in the end.

Mirabelle's face relaxes before hardening. Did she notice you forgot the word!

Bonnie - "Oh C R A B!"

Timely Bonnie interuption! You both look over to see that whatever step of the cooking process they are on has caused the wok to emerge in flame! Odile seems relatvely unfazed besides her reaction to Bonnies reaction, namely panic.

Hopefully dinner will be alright.

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 09 of ? | masterpost

word count: 3028 | ao3 link

That was way easier and better than I ever thought it could be. And sweet. Sweet and just so natural, like his kisses and his touch. Like the love I felt for him. Like the love he felt for me.

✦ summary: Dave and Nore find solace in each other and cave to their desires in the chaotic aftermath of a drunk driving accident.

✦ on this chapter: NSFW!!, dave mustaine x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, drinking, drunk driving, car accident, vomiting, a little bit of hurt/comfort/praise, fluff, unprotected sex, mxf sex (explicit), oral sex, fingering, alcoholism/drinking issues

✦ a/n: this is a completely new part aaaand it's really explicit so keep it in mind if you're going to read it! also, since every chapter is named after a song, i made a playlist on spotify with all of them, you can listen to it while reading or just to get in the story's mood, it's right here and i will update it every time i post a new chapter. hope you like it, feedback is welcome ❤

✧ the sin I bring, called ecstasy ✧

Alright, whose brilliant idea was it to let a drunk driver take the wheel? 

Definitely not mine. 

Honestly, at that moment, it didn't seem like we had much of a choice. We were all wasted by the end of the day. We needed to get back home, and none of us had enough cash for a taxi ride from Joe's place to ours. A stumbling Lars volunteered to be the designated driver, and surprisingly, no one objected. We even cracked some jokes about the potential disaster, had a few laughs, and that was the end of it.

I don't think anyone was laughing now, though.

We stared in pure horror at the wrecked van. Lars had managed to crash it into a damn wall! Thankfully, nobody got hurt, and we were just a stone's throw away from home, but that didn't make things any better. Dave and Lars were fighting, Leanne was losing her shit, and I wasn't faring much better. My head was spinning, my breathing getting faster, and a rush of adrenaline sent panic coursing through my veins. Everything was spinning. I knew I had drunk too much. I knew I was bound to puke sooner or later. But at least I hoped I could hold it together until we got home.

I crawled over to someone's lawn and pretty much emptied my guts.

"You okay?" a voice chimed in. I glanced up and met James' blue eyes. He seemed somewhat sober, probably because he had passed out for most of the later part of the party, but I knew he was still pretty drunk.

"Do I look okay to you?" I grumbled, and he cracked up. I scrunched my eyebrows. Barfing my guts out was bad enough without an audience, but having someone witness the spectacle made it a whole lot worse.

"Maybe it's best if you go home if you're feelin' like shit. But you don't know the way, huh?"

"Does anyone here feel good? We’re all wasted and screwed with this accident. I'm surprised no one in this neighborhood has called the police yet."

"Yeah, maybe they will. Then we'll be even more fucked, right?" He laughed again and plopped his ass down on the sidewalk, keeping a safe distance from my vomit puddle. I had noticed it earlier, but he got really annoying when he was drunk. I focused on my trembling hands, trying to regain my composure. Take a deep breath, I reminded myself.

"What's going on?" Dave's slurred voice chimed in as he stumbled over to us. "Nore, what the hell happened?" 

I looked into his brown eyes, and they seemed to suspiciously fixate on James, as if he could somehow be to blame for my sorry state. I wondered what he thought was happening.

 "I was..." I gestured towards the puke pool, then spun around to continue unleashing the remnants of my stomach. Oh, lovely. 

He approached, all his focus on me, pushing my hair out of my face and gripping my waist to keep me steady. I leaned into his frame, grateful for the support, my heart still racing from the crash's adrenaline rush. My stomach wasn't faring any better; now that I'd expelled everything, an uncomfortable burning sensation was spreading through my belly.

"I think I've had too much to drink," I grumbled, fully aware of how my voice slurred and dragged. "How the hell are we supposed to go home now?" 

He glanced at the wrecked van and let out a resigned sigh. 

"Cliff's trying to borrow a phone from someone nearby to call a taxi. C'mere." Dave slung his arm around my shoulders and guided me towards the sidewalk next to the van, where Lars and Leanne were already planted on the ground. He helped me settle down beside them. He seemed a bit more composed now, but who knew if he was actually sober or just trying to hide his own level of intoxication. 

I plopped my ass on the pavement, my head spinning and my stomach doing somersaults. Somehow, I managed to hold back the urge to hurl this time. He sat down beside me, shooting me a concerned look.

"You look like hell," he remarked, and I burst out laughing, instantly regretting it as a pounding headache hit me. I groaned, wincing, and covered my face with my hands. "Come here." He pulled me close, letting me rest my head on his shoulder.

"I called a taxi for the girls and got hold of Joe. He's coming to help with the van," Cliff chimed in. "But we need some folks to stick around here and wait." 

"You, me, and Lars can hang tight," James suggested. "Nore and Leanne are not feeling well. Dave can take 'em home." 

Cliff glanced at me, clearly realizing how sick I was. He squatted down next to me and ran his hand through my hair in a soothing gesture. 

"Bit too much to drink, huh?" he asked, and I grumbled in response. "It's okay, go home and get some rest." 

I nodded, hiding my face against Dave's chest. Cliff settled down beside Leanne, doing his best to soothe her as we waited what felt like forever for the cab. Finally, it arrived, and Dave, Leanne, and I hopped into the car. The driver dropped off Leanne at her place, and Dave hopped out to make sure she'd be alright while I stayed put. When he returned, he took the seat next to me in the back.

"Feeling any better?" he asked, and I nodded, leaning my head on his shoulder. He gently stroked my thigh, sending a pleasant shiver through my skin.

When we got back home, I hopped out of the car and headed straight to the bathroom while Dave took care of paying the taxi. I quickly brushed my teeth to get rid of the nasty taste in my mouth and splashed some water on my face. The vomiting had sobered me up, but my head was still pounding like crazy. Dave walked into the bathroom, holding a glass of water and a pill in his hand.

"Got this for you," he said, offering the pill. "You know, to help with the headache."

"Oh, thank you, Dave," I whispered, grateful for his thoughtfulness. I took the pill and swallowed it with the water, letting out a sigh. I couldn't help but notice how my hands were shaking slightly.

"You alright?" he asked, coming closer and gently stroking my face, unsure of how to comfort me. "You've been on edge since the accident. I mean, yeah, it was a total mess, but we're all safe now... Back home, no harm done."

I sighed. The accident had triggered more than just nerves and panic in me. The aftermath was just a tiny part of a much bigger turmoil in my head.

"It's just... This wasn't my first car accident. I guess that’s why I got so nervous," I confessed, and then looked into his eyes. He stared at me intently, his hand moving from my face to my lower lip, his finger tracing the curve of my mouth slowly. My body heated up, suddenly aware of the closeness between us. I let out a sigh, deciding to open up and share what had been troubling me. "Last year, on my 18th birthday, me and my friends went out to celebrate. We got wasted, and when it was time to call it a night, I was the one behind the wheel... Ended up crashing the damn car." I blinked, realizing my eyes were getting watery. It was strange. I had never talked so openly about this with anyone; I felt so ashamed, especially after getting kicked out of my own house. I just hoped Dave wouldn't hate me after hearing all this. "I got hurt. And I hurt my friends too. Dave, I... I'm not the good girl you think I am. I've fucked up big time." 

"And does that matter?" he whispered, his face inching closer to mine. His eyes were serious, and I could feel his breath brushing against my lips. "You’re not a bad person because of that, Nore. And I love you... Your past doesn't mean shit. I love who you are right now."

I locked eyes with him, a shiver running through me as he leaned his hands on the sink, one on each side of my body. He was so close that it made my heart race. And there it was — the electric charge that sparked every time he got too close, the tension building up deep in my gut whenever he touched me. I lightly brushed my fingers against his lips, my breath hitching with anticipation, and let out a soft sigh as he kissed me. Our tongues danced slowly together, his hands gripping me so tight against his body that it was almost painful. 

He broke the kiss to swiftly yank off my shirt, and a little gasp escaped my lips as he started kissing my neck, sucking gently and leaving love bites all over my skin. I felt his fingertips trailing lightly over my back, sending tingles down my spine, until they reached the clasp of my bra.

I flinched suddenly, feeling my face burn and my breath quicken. He froze.

"You want me to stop?" Dave asked, his voice low and husky, a concerned look on his face.

"No," I whispered, looking into his eyes. He stared at me, seeming a bit unsure for a moment, before gently stroking my face.

"Come here," he took my hand and led me to my room. My heart raced as he closed the door, leaving the lights off, and pulled his shirt off, kissing me again. His skin felt hot against mine and my breath hitched as he sat on the bed, pulling me onto his lap. I straddled him, my knees on either side of his hips, and let out a sigh as his lips went back to exploring my neck.

His hands went back to my bra as he removed it slowly. I shivered as I felt the cold air against my skin and even more when I saw the way he looked at me. He lifted his eyes to look at mine, his gaze clouded with anticipation while holding me firmly in his arms. I giggled when he lifted me effortlessly, laying me down on the bed and positioning himself on top of me. He traced the outline of my nipple slowly with his fingertips, making me breathe deeply.

“Dave…” I whispered, and let out a quiet whimper when he sucked on my nipple, his tongue circling it slowly. I moaned, feeling my whole body on fire while he sucked on my breast leisurely, his hand grabbing my hip strongly. He grumbled, a low and satisfied sound, and the vibration of his voice against my skin sent shivers throughout my body.

His hands gripped me tightly on the hips, so strong that I squirmed, a low moan escaping from my throat. He bit my nipple lightly, massaging it with his tongue, and I couldn’t help but moan louder. It hurt a bit, but it was so good that I never wanted him to stop. He did it again on my other nipple, his tongue savoring every inch of my skin while I buried my fingers in his soft hair. His lips explored my skin slowly, kissing and licking and sucking on my breasts, my collarbones, my neck; I knew my skin would be covered in purple marks the next day, but I couldn’t care less. 

When he pulled away, he held my chin in his hand, making me look at him. His eyes were intense and hungry, and they seemed as lost in gazing into mine as mine were in his.

"If I hurt you, you have to tell me," he spoke softly, his hand caressing my cheek slowly.

"Okay," I whispered in response.

"Promise me," he asked, lightly kissing my lips. I nodded.

"I promise, Dave."

He nodded, his eyes serious as he unbuttoned my pants. I helped him take the rest of my clothes off quickly, letting out a small sigh when he saw me naked for the first time. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face, looking somewhat stunned as his eyes roamed over every inch of my skin. I slowly caressed his chest with my hand, tracing the outline of his collarbone with the tips of my fingers. He brought a hand to my hair, gripping it firmly before leaning over me and kissing me on my lips again.

I whimpered when he grabbed my thigh with one hand, opening my legs and then touching my pussy, caressing it slowly, making my whole body shiver. I lost myself in his gaze, admiring his faintly flushed cheeks, his lips slightly parted while his eyes looked into mine. I moaned softly when he penetrated me with one finger, and then another, moving them slowly inside of me, exploring me at such a cautious pace that it bordered on tortuous. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked in a husky tone. I shook my head to assure him it didn’t, my lips slightly parted and my face flushed, and moaned when he moved his fingers inside me. He let out a soft laugh. “Fuck, Nore… You’re so beautiful.”

He leaned in, kissing my neck, his lips gently tracing the contour down to my shoulder and collarbone, leaving a trail of small kisses as he went down and kept moving his fingers leisurely inside me, in and out while he curled them softly. I closed my eyes, tilting my head back when he pressed his tongue against my clit, his hot breath tickling my skin. 

“Oh, Dave…” I moaned, holding onto his hair with one hand. He chuckled softly, seeming to take delight in my reaction, his breath quickening against my skin. I felt my own breath quicken while I enjoyed the combined pleasure of his fingers and his tongue, my legs shaking lightly as my back arched and I moaned. 

He reduced me to a trembling mess of moans and whimpers as his tongue explored my pussy slowly, sucking and licking my clit while his fingers moved inside me, my whole body on fire as I felt the knot of pleasure in my womb grow tighter and tighter. I let out a muffled cry when he stopped, his mouth coming back to mine, his fingers slipping out from inside me and leaving an uncomfortable emptiness that pulsed, yearning for more. I groaned in protest, almost begging for him to touch me again.

“Wait… Just a bit” he whispered while taking off his pants quickly. He gripped one of my thighs, lifting my leg while laying down on top of me. I melted into a breathy moan when I felt him start to penetrate me slowly, and flinched a little as pain and pleasure intertwined inside of me. “Nore…” he moaned, nuzzling my neck, his erratic breath against my skin as I wrapped my legs around his hips with a low moan while my body adjusted to his size “Ah…” 

I moaned when he started moving carefully. Any pain I felt was slowly giving way to the pleasure of feeling his sweaty skin against mine, his lips kissing me greedily, his fingers intertwined with mine as they pressed my hand against the mattress, and him, inside of me, making me feel things I didn't even believe were possible to be felt until then.  

He pulled away a bit, still moving slowly, and my eyes met with his. I knew by his expression that he wanted to devour me. That he was holding back, because he didn’t want to hurt me. But I wanted more of him, too; I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, allowing him to penetrate me deeper. He moaned softly, his control over himself faltering while his hand gripped my hip and he pushed hard inside of me. It was so good, feeling his warm body against mine, his fingers digging into my skin as we lost ourselves in each other.

He started moving faster, his breath becoming more erratic as he let a few muffled moans escape from his lips. I let him hold me against his body, the pain now completely forgotten as the pleasure of having him inside of me invaded my body, the knot of pleasure growing in my womb until it became almost unbearable.

“Nore, I’m so close…” he whispered, his voice almost pleading as he buried his face in the curve of my neck, one of his hands gripping my hair tightly while the other supported his body.

I couldn’t answer, I couldn’t even think straight while I closed my eyes, allowing his lips to explore my skin, the constant rhythm of his movements increasingly intensifying the knot of pure ecstasy growing inside me until I moaned loudly, feeling the pleasure inside of me become unbearable under his touch, allowing my orgasm to run through my whole body, making it spasm and contract. He grunted, shuddering and holding me even closer when he couldn’t stand it anymore and reached his high, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he came inside of me. He sighed deeply, his face hidden in my neck while he caught his breath, my own breath shallow, my eyes closed as I felt the warmth spreading through my body in waves.

That was way easier and better than I ever thought it could be. And sweet. Sweet and just so natural, like his kisses and his touch. Like the love I felt for him. Like the love he felt for me.

Dave let out a sigh, rolling off my body and snuggling up next to me. He pulled me close, and I hugged him tight, burying my face in his chest, soaking in the smell of his skin and his cozy warmth as I relaxed. His lips on my forehead and his hands caressing my back were the last things I remembered before falling asleep in his arms.