#never got it past a few hundred words but maybe this is his time. maybe it’s the erer era

[dinomight]

maybe it’s just the middle child in me but there is something so tragic about wu erbai and his relationship with erjing. like imagine constantly being overshadowed by your younger brother, constantly dealing with the fallout of his actions. imagine watching the person you love be in love with him, while he doesn’t even bat an eye at her. (imagine watching your nephew idolize him even when you’re the one who’s there.) and then along comes this man who wants to be yours. your right hand man. the person you trust. the person you depend on. the person who protects you. and as it turns out he’s just there to get back at your brother. he’s there for sanxing, not you. who would be there for you?

[andvys]

The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ Prologue

⭐︎ When the sun hits, she’ll be waiting

Warnings: hurt/comfort, mentions of death, post apocalypse, grumpy!steve x sunshine!reader, gore, blood, mean!steve

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Another patrol. Patrols he's been doing for a whole year, and nothing ever changes. Maybe he had to kill one demodog, or demobat, but overall, it was the same walk, the same stance, the same weariness… only this time, something new appeared in his walk.

Word count: 4.8k

Author's note: @hellfire--cult and I are back with another Steve series, I hope you're as excited as I am, you got a lot of angst, fluff and smut coming your way! And also, shoutout to @ghost-proofbaby who picked the title for this story, thank you my love

series masterlist

☀︎

It was funny. 

He had watched apocalypse movies. He had seen the terrible visual effects done with strawberry syrup, the gelatin that exploded pretending to be brains and flesh, the people becoming zombies and doing loud and stupid moans in their chase. He knew the apocalypse would never look like that, but he also never believed he would live in something very much alike, and not at all a movie.

They had not defeated Vecna. They have killed him, but defeated? No. He is gone but he left behind the world he created, he reached his goal and got what he wanted, something that Steve and the others were very blind to at first, they watched him die; they burned his body to make sure that he was gone for good. They thought they won, but it was a false victory, one that gave them all the opportunity to recover, opportunities that included them trying to become a town again, yet after three months of what they thought was safe, the first demogorgon crawled out of the big gates that were created. Killed instantly. Then another. Then twenty. Then a hundred. Demogorgons, demobats, demodogs, and other upside down creatures... and this time, they came with infectious venom.

Venom that turned people into bloodthirsty, flesh eating monsters with nothing but death in their eyes, people turned into monsters who became part of Vecna’s army, crawling into homes and houses, spreading way too quickly and unable to be stopped from claiming not only the town but all of the country and soon the whole globe. 

They noticed when it was already too late, when the world was already too far gone and the lives of many were lost and claimed by darkness. 

When the realization started sinking in and he saw, felt the panic, the fear, the desperation, the dread and death, he felt like he was going to lose himself, knowing that the world he once knew was gone and never to be brought back again, that it was all lost and someday to be forgotten but a feeling he hadn’t noticed yet was acceptance. 

Because if anyone knew how to adapt, then it was him. Unlike many others, he had no home that he lost, he never had one in the first place. His parents' house was only ever a big lonely space that he never found comfort in until his friends filled that space with warmth and laughter, laughter that still echoes in his ears whenever he thinks of simpler times, laughter that he thinks he will never hear again. 

The house is now even emptier and colder than before, claimed by vines, dust and spider webs, just like most of the houses in Hawkins are… or the rest of the world. He passed familiar houses before, Dustin’s home and Lucas’s, he only glanced at them, not bearing to look longer, not wanting to feel, not wanting to look back at what he lost. 

The gun in his hand feels light, nothing like it used to feel the first few times he had to hold one or use one. His footsteps are barely audible as he walks through the empty cul-de-sac, eyes focused and eyebrows furrowed, he is on high alert, he always is, even when he doesn’t have to. 

He feels relaxed, despite the circumstances, despite the death that could be waiting around any corner, he feels relaxed. He walks past the abandoned cars and houses, watching out for any creature that could come crawling out from any hole. A lone plushie lies on the ground, dirty and splattered with blood – a sight that would have made him sick a year ago, thinking about whose blood it could’ve been, now makes him feel indifference. He had seen so many ugly, disturbing things, nothing truly fazes him anymore, it’s awful and sometimes he wonders if he is still a good person or if the horrors of this world have turned him into a monster as well, if the darkness had claimed him too like it had claimed the sick people. Sometimes he feels pain, sometimes he feels nothing but today he feels a sliver of sadness, one that he swallows down as quickly as it comes, he can’t stand it. 

The sun shines down on him but he barely feels the warmth even though it’s there, the light of it illuminates the empty road ahead of him, the chaos left behind, the rotten grass and the dead flowers, they don’t grow anymore, the birds don’t sing anymore, he wonders if there are even any left in this world, most have died, just like the ones he used to see every day, they have died. 

A soft huff falls from his lips when he notices that the laces on his boots have come undone, he stops walking and looks around, making sure that nothing and nobody will creep up on him the moment he kneels down, he would be surprised if something like that still happened around here though. Hawkins is empty of people and monsters, it was only the doorway for them to get through to get to the rest of the world, this place is just as abandoned as the houses are. 

The houses where his friends used to live. Where Lucas used to live. Dustin. The Wheelers. The Byers. That home that was lived in by other people last year. His house. Those remained intact, yet empty and filled with vines, darkness, dust of the memories from those who once lived in there. The only place that got swallowed whole was Forest Hills trailer park. Where Max used to live. Where Eddie used to live.

Placing the gun in his holster, he kneels down and reaches for the undone laces, wasting no second to tie them. His ears pick up on any sound, on the wind that howls through the bushes and the trees, through the broken windows, the bells that still hang from the ceilings on the empty porches. His eyes never stay focused on only the task before him, he is always ready to fight, to kill but it’s been a while since he had to use his gun or a machete, or even his bat. 

But today the hairs on his neck stand up for the first time in a while. Goosebumps arise on his skin and he feels it, a presence behind him. Steve swallows harshly, not knowing what to expect the moment he turns around, a demogorgon, a demodog or a sick one. He ties the knot on his boot, tightly. 

Unlike a few months before, he no longer feels fear whenever he is about to stare evil in it’s eyes, he no longer dreads it, he no longer feels his heart skipping or racing, he feels nothing anymore. 

He reaches for his gun and jumps to his feet, raising his arm and the gun, turning on his heel and aiming at the presence that lingered behind him, the one that would have normally lunged at him by now but it’s not a creature staring back at him nor is it a sick person, a sick person wouldn’t raise her arms up in surrender or step back in fear. 

“Hang on! I’m not bitten! I’m alive, I’m still alive!” Your voice is panicked, your eyes are too. 

Steve’s jaw is clenched, his eyes move up and down your body, taking in the state of your clothes first, no holes or tears in them, they are clean – clean for the end of the world. Your hair is tied, hanging down your shoulders in two braids, there are knives tucked into your belt and a gun in your thigh holster that you have no intent to reach for. He eyes your exposed skin, where your flannel had slipped down your shoulder, exposing a wound, not a bite, not a scratch, only a cut that he can’t help but wonder how it got there or why. 

“Turning takes days,” Steve murmurs as he tears his gaze away from you for a second to scan the area around you two, who knows what you had dragged here or who. 

“I can sing Madonna for you?” 

He rolls his eyes as he looks back at you, for someone armed with knives and a glock 17 strapped to her thigh, you sure do look like a frightened cat, ready to run. You are not a threat. He knows it; he sees it; he feels it. He knows danger; you aren’t that. 

“You’re not bitten?” He asks as he lowers his gun, letting you relax again. 

You shake your head, though you can still see the hesitance in his eyes, the mistrust. 

“Do I–” you start innocently, blushing already as you look at the man before you, “do I need to get naked? If so, I’d prefer a woman, if that is possible.”

Steve’s eyes widen and he shakes his head quickly, ignoring the heat that rises in his cheeks. He puts his gun back in his holster. 

“Fuck, no, no… I believe you, what– what are you doing in the middle of Hawkins?” 

He sees the way your shoulders relax, the way you take a deep breath in and then out, lowering your arms to your sides. 

“I was in a small camp, a few towns away, and I’m trying to get to my old home… though, I got a bit lost cause a bat ripped my map out of my hands…” You frown. 

“Demobat.” 

You tilt your head to the side, furrowing your brows, “what?” 

Steve scrunches his nose up, shaking his head at himself, he keeps forgetting. 

“Nevermind.”

Your head is still tilted, your brows still furrowed, you look him up and down, no words fall from your lips, for a moment you are quiet. 

He grows a little flustered beneath your gaze, not that he would ever admit, you are just the first stranger he had encountered in a while, a stranger who creeped up on him. 

“You’re not very attentive.” 

Steve raises his eyebrows in surprise. 

“You only noticed me when I was already too close.”

He wants to laugh… a little. 

“Sounds like you were up to no good,” Steve retorts, glaring at you to which your eyes only widen, filled with yet more panic. You open your mouth and close it again, a few times, the shock not letting you speak but when you do, you stutter and shake your head. 

“No! Oh my god! I’m just saying – listen, I want no trouble, I’m just passing through, I just want to go home.”

Steve can’t help but be a bit amused by the panic and the fear in your eyes. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you!” 

If laughing hadn’t become such a strange thing to him these days, he would do it now, yeah, he would chuckle, he would laugh loudly. 

“That’s funny,” he mumbles under his breath, looking you up and down one more time before he turns on his heels and continues his journey down the road. His boots hit the gravel roughly, footsteps echoing through the empty streets, it only takes three seconds before a second pair joins, just like he had suspected. 

“Wait!”

You catch up with him quickly, walking beside him now. He feels your eyes on him but he doesn’t turn to look. 

“Is this a community?”

He wouldn’t call it that, the few people that stayed here all fend for themselves, just like him and his friends do. 

“Not exactly. Would be a very shitty one if anyone could just walk in.”

“Right…” He hears you murmur softly. “Are you passing through?”

“No.”

“Do you live here?”

“Yes.” 

“Why?”

Steve rolls his eyes, side-eying you. He is not very talkative anymore, he finds no joy in holding conversations, let alone in answering questions, he barely uses his voice nowadays, he doesn’t feel bad about it, or even guilty. Normally he would keep quiet or even snap at whoever is bothering him, today he can’t find it in himself to be mean… meaner. 

“Cause it’s my hometown. Why are you by yourself?” Steve asks without looking at you. 

“I left my last camp cause I want to go home, like I said before–”

“I know, I mean why are you traveling by yourself? It’s not safe out here, especially not for women.” Steve rounds the corner, inching closer to the only house that has a light peeking through the boards on the windows. 

“It’s not safe for anyone out here, not just for women,” you correct him, looking at him in surprise when he opens the gate to the backyard before you and lets you walk in first. “But I haven’t seen many people since I left the camp,” You mumble and look down at your converse, that look very dirty in comparison to his black boots. 

You stand before him now, close, a little too close for a stranger, though he makes no move to put more distance between you. He sees the wound on your shoulder clearer now, a cut caused by either a knife or glass. 

You tilt your head up again, you are close enough to see his face now properly, the color of his eyes, hazel. Freckles and moles kiss his skin, his features are soft, his expression isn’t. His brown hair is very… voluminous, his beard is trimmed, he looks clean and he doesn’t smell, a rarity nowadays. He is tall, his shoulders are wide, he is certainly much stronger too, his biceps strain against his black shirt, and it only now dawns on you that you followed a man to what you presume is his home, you followed with no hesitation. 

You swallow the growing lump in your throat and take a step back. He had shown no interest in you, he doesn’t seem fond of you following him either. He is just as much of a threat as you are, you tell yourself. 

“So er… is it just you here?” You ask, looking at the house he stopped by, the house you presume is his home, his fortress. 

“No.”

You nod, pursing your lips as you look into his cold eyes but he quickly breaks eye contact and starts walking again. 

“Where is everyone and how many people are here?” You ask as you continue on following him, staring at the back of his head, his mullet looks good, taken care of, you notice. “Also this town lacks security, you should have bigger gates--”

Steve turns on his heel, sighing loudly as he glares down at you, not even moving back when you almost bump into him. 

“Will you shut up for a second!?” He grumbles, glaring at you again as he stares you down. 

You press your lips together, gazing up into his dark eyes, not breaking eye contact. The look on his face should intimidate you, the cold eyes should scare you, he should scare you but he doesn’t. 

“Have any monsters gotten in yet and if so, have you ever fought any? I ran into a dog like creature the other day, that fucker nearly bit my hand off, I–”

Two seconds. You shut up for two fucking seconds. 

“Jesus,” Steve mumbles, raising his hand up, he runs his fingers through his hair, his annoyance doesn’t faze you in the slightest, you open your mouth again, ready to ask another question but someone else beats you to it. 

“Well, what do we have here?” 

You instantly press your lips together, throwing your hand to your holster as you snap your head to look towards the gate and at the person who cut you off, startled by his presence, you take a step closer to the stranger you just met as you eye the man with the long hair, who is looking at you with a smile on his face. His eyes are kind, much kinder than the ones of the man beside you. He is holding a box, a gun is secured and tucked into his belt. 

“Who’s this lovely lady, Harrington?” He asks, not stepping closer yet. 

Harrington. 

You don’t even notice the girl beside him until she clears her throat, offering you a small smile. Her hair is long and curly too, her bangs cover her eyes a little, a rifle is strapped over her shoulder. 

“Someone passing through,” Harrington grumbles under his breath, clearly wanting you to keep passing through. “She’ll be on her way now.”

It’s getting dark now, it’s not safe to continue your travel when the sun sets. You planned to find shelter when you stepped foot into this town, maybe find some cans of food in one of the abandoned houses. 

The girl meets your eyes, hesitating, she shakes her head. 

“Oh, it’s getting dark, besides she could use a bath, Steve.” The girl says, frowning as she looks you up and down. 

Offended, you scrunch your nose up and look down at yourself, “hey, I do my best in any possible lake!” You argue, despite the surprise in you. Every group, every community you have come across before, did not offer baths or shelter, not after your pleading, at least. 

“She has to go to her hometown–”

“All alone?” The girl asks, frowning at the man – at Steve, beside you. She glances at the one next to her, they share the same look in their eyes. You wonder if they are siblings. 

“Yes, all alone.” Steve sighs. 

They look at him in disappointment. 

He doesn’t want you here. 

It’s nothing you aren’t used to. 

You’re on your own, you always have been. Though you can’t remember the last time you had a proper shower, a real meal or a night full of sleep. You don’t know how to hunt, you wash yourself in lakes and you never sleep through the night, no matter how safe you think you are, you can’t sleep. You can’t even remember the last time you felt fully rested, not even the communities that provided you shelter gave you that real feeling of safety. 

You don’t know these people, the man beside you and the pair before you, but the kind blue eyes and the chocolate brown ones are different from any of the ones you have looked into before – you can feel the indifference from Steve, he doesn’t know you, he doesn’t trust you. 

“I-It’s fine, I was just passing through,” you shrug, offering a smile, despite the weird feeling in your stomach. “Do you… maybe have a map for me though?”

“Yeah,” Steve instantly speaks up, clearly wanting to get rid of you quickly. 

She crosses her arms over her chest, ignoring your question, she glares at Steve, “did she ask to stay?” 

Steve clenches his jaw, glaring back at her with an icy cold stare. 

“We can’t afford another mouth to feed–” 

The guy with the curly hair steps forward with a sigh, approaching Steve with a stubborn look on his face, “I’m keeping her.” 

Steve scrunches his face up, scoffing at his friend, “she’s not a fucking puppy!” 

Though he doesn’t listen to him and turns towards you, nudging his head at you, motioning for you to follow him as he goes to open the door to the house, “come on, we’re gonna eat dinner soon, we’re making stew. And you can get cleaned up if you want, Nancy will give you some clean clothes.”

You want to follow badly, the mention of food, of a warm meal makes your mouth water, and you wouldn’t say no to a shower and fresh clothes either but Steve’s unwelcoming expression makes you hesitate. 

He is looking down at the ground, his jaw tense, his eyes unimpressed. 

The girl, Nancy, she is looking at him still, waiting for him to look at her too but he doesn’t. There is something in her eyes that you can’t read, the same look that resides in his own. 

With a sigh, she looks away and starts walking towards you after closing the gate behind her. She can see the hesitation on your face. 

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, we’re leaving soon too–”

“We are not,” Steve says harshly, nearly making you flinch. 

“We are.” Nancy argues, her brows are pulled together, her lips curl downwards. 

She is certainly more intimidating than he is. 

“You can stay for the night, like Eddie said, we’ll have dinner and you can get cleaned up, tomorrow you can be on your way with the map you have asked for, but it’s getting dark now – so, you’re staying.” 

“Okay.”

It’s funny, normally that would have been a warning sign for you to run. People aren’t usually so persistent for you to stay and if they are, you never stay long enough to find out what evilness they have planned for you. Usually you aren’t so trusting, but her kind blue eyes make it hard not to. 

Finding kindness in this world is a rarity nowadays, you wonder if these people ever encountered real danger – not the creatures, or the sick people but humans, you found out that those can be much worse, evil. You figure that they haven’t, otherwise they wouldn’t be so trusting towards you, even Steve, he didn’t ask you to take your weapons off of you, didn’t tell you to hand them over, he just let you follow, and his friends open the door to their home for you, they let you inside, he does too. 

You have a growing suspicion that they don’t really know the world they live in now, they haven’t seen past this untouched town, they haven’t seen what people are capable of, how cruel and evil they can be, because if they did, you would not be welcome here, not so easily, no matter how harmless you seem to them. 

But the kindness you are greeted with today encourages the hope that never died inside of you. 

Hope that died in him a long time ago. 

Hope that will die in you just like it did in him. 

He watches you closely, the way you look around the house the three of them have stayed in for the past year, you throw your backpack to the ground, leaving it abandoned by the stairs. You eye the radio station in the living room, curiosity lingers in your eyes, he notices how your fingers twitch but you don’t touch it, you draw back from it when you catch him staring at you like a hawk – he almost feels bad when you shy away. 

You turn your back to him and look at the bookshelf, tilting your head to the side. 

Steve should stop it, the staring, but he can’t, he doesn’t know why, you are not a threat, he doesn’t need to watch you but he keeps doing it, slowly following you through the house like you are his prey. 

You are the first stranger to enter this house, the first and the only. Every person who stumbled upon this ghost town was turned and scared away by him. He doesn’t know why he let you inside, Eddie and Nancy wouldn’t be able to keep you here, no matter how persistent and stubborn they had been. If they didn’t want you here, you would have been long gone and not walking around the house. 

But something about you makes him mad.

Maybe it’s the way you so easily fit in, or maybe it’s the way you fall for Eddie’s charm and giggle at every attempt of his to make you smile, maybe it’s the way you get along with Nancy right away, Nancy who is usually distrusting of anyone she doesn’t know, or maybe it’s the way you look at him when you sit across from him during dinner, the golden light from the fireplace touching your soft skin. Your eyes are big and innocent, the air around you is too, like you had been untouched by the horrors of this world, like nothing ever happened to you, like you didn’t lose anything or anyone, like the world didn’t even scratch the surface of you. 

He doesn’t know you, he doesn’t know anything about you but he knows what you are – a naive and stupid girl, one that throws herself into danger, the cut on your shoulder and the scars on your upper arm are proof of that, you won’t survive long, people like you never do. 

He stares into your eyes and you stare back, eyeing him while Eddie talks your ear off, who is happy to have someone new to talk with, considering he is stuck with people who aren’t the most talkative. 

You blink, holding his gaze for a while. 

You are trouble, the kind that he wants to stay away from, the kind he needs to stay away from. 

And yet he finds himself knocking on the bathroom door to give you the toiletries and the clothes that Nancy had prepared for you after dinner. He is huffing loudly when he hears you singing, or humming. The only person he ever heard hum in a shower nowadays was Eddie, and he did it just to be an obnoxious prick. You, you are just happy, and who the hell is happy nowadays with how the world is? A psychopath. You are a fucking psychopath.

“One sec!” Your voice was sweet as the water is turned off, and soon after, the door is opening and his eyes are everywhere. You are wrapped in a towel, holding it tightly on your chest where the edge is tucked in. Your wet hair falling down your shoulders, the droplets all over your skin, and you have a stupid smile on your face. That snaps him out from the trance of staring at you more than he should. He blames it on not meeting another woman in a while. The only one in this ‘community’ of his age is Nancy, and she and him made it clear that whatever happened when Vecna was alive, that it was purely out of adrenaline and the need to be or feel cared for by someone in that moment.

“Have your stuff. Remember to give the clothes back before you leave tomorrow.” He extends his arms towards you, the body cream on top of the clothes, making you gasp as your arms shoot to take them from him, your eyes stuck on the white bottle.

“Oh god… thank you… I can’t– I can’t thank you enough–”

“Not me. Nancy and Eddie. I wanted you gone, still want you gone.” His eyes are looking away from you, down the hall as he speaks. He is harsh and he knows it, but there is a limit on water usage in the community, and you just used a ton. Which makes him think that Nancy and Eddie are being serious on leaving, not caring for the limits any longer. 

Your eyes look up, catching onto the patch of freckles and moles on his neck, as well as a very prominent scar. As if he had been choked by some rope, going all the way around. You were hurt by his words, but yet, this guy is being mean, and wants to kick you out, and he is standing in front of you handing you body cream and clothes, when he could have refused. He could have shot you and defy his friends. He could have been pushier.

And so your hope doesn’t die.

“I’ll thank them later… but yet, thank you, as well.” You persist and he grumbles something under his breath, his head turning to look at you one last time. Hopefully, the last time he sees it before he wakes up tomorrow. 

“Have a safe trip tomorrow.” And with that, he walks down the hall and towards his room, slowly closing the door behind him. Robin is going to kill him. Letting a random girl inside the house. Eddie and Nancy were out of their minds. Everyone was, except him. Hopefully.

He hears murmurs between you and Nancy in the hallway, giggles that disappear as you two disappear into Nancy’s room. She is letting you sleep on the bed with her. What the fuck was Nance thinking? You are a stranger… A stranger who seemed harmless enough, a stranger who looked… tired. Like the only thing you wanted to do was sleep, and sleep, and sleep. 

He might be over-exaggerating with how he is treating you, but can anyone blame him for it?

His eyes move towards a scarf on his bed frame, his fingers caressing the hand-knitted mustard colored cotton between his fingers. He hears Eddie whistling as he goes into his room and his anger bubbles up inside of him again.

He isn’t leaving this town. It is a stupid idea to do so. It is reckless. It is also going against the community’s rules. He isn’t going to leave. He can’t leave Robin behind, and Eddie and Nancy know she won’t be coming along.

He won’t leave the last thing that is keeping him alive.

[gyubakeries]

𝗱𝘂𝗹𝗰𝗲𝘁 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗿𝗲𝘀 | h.js

a/n: so!! part 2 is here! thank you rie ( @okiedokrie ) and a ( @chugging-antiseptic-dye ) for supporting my insanity. this one is for u guys, my fav joshua stans 🫂

part 1

word count: 4k contents: NSFW content , joshua x afab!reader , college au , joshua records nsfw audios as a side hustle , friends to lovers , happy ending , nsfw warnings below the cut!

nsfw warnings: mdni! 18+ , protected sex , fingering (f. receiving) , multiple reader orgasms , come eating , oral sex (m. receiving) , breast play , lots of nicknames (darling, baby, beautiful, good girl)

joshua is a fairly simple guy. he’s kind and nice to everyone. he’s always down to help people if they need it. he’s got good grades, love from all his professors, and the reputation of being the ‘campus gentleman.’ he even volunteers at an animal shelter on some weekends. it’s all simple and great.

except for one secret he swears he will take to his grave. 

it’s the black and neon pink website he logs into every other week. it’s the microphone he records his moans in front of. it’s the thousands of people who pay him hundreds of dollars, on a weekly basis, just to hear him whispering dirty words to them.

it was a side job he picked up in the first year of college, when money was tight and his shifts at the local convenience store were barely able to cover his rent and student loans.

he was desperate and grasped at any chance he could get. when he stumbled across the website while trying to look for good porn, (don’t judge him, he has needs too) he made up his mind.

so, for a few weeks, he only had cup ramen for meals and used the leftover money to buy a good quality microphone. he set up his account on www. angelaudios.com, and nervously hit record for the first time.

he never looked back after that. 

joshua built a steady following of people who were just as desperate for pleasure as he was for money. he’d post audios twice a week, maybe even go live a few times if he wasn’t too busy. it worked out well for him, considering he could actually pay rent on time and afford to buy fresh ingredients to make his meals.

for each of his recordings, joshua usually needed some time and a vivid imagination to even get hard. but then, that changed when you came along.

you in your skirts and tank tops. you with your perfectly glossed lips. you and your cherry-scented perfume that joshua could only catch traces of whenever you sat next to him in your shared lectures.

after you, joshua didn’t need much motivation. he felt guilty about it every time, but he couldn’t help the natural reaction of his body whenever he thought about how he could see the swell of your breasts in the crop tops you wore, or how your perfectly manicured nails would look wrapped around him.

ShuaTalks gained a lot of traction, and he started earning more when he started posting four audios a week in the second year of college, and he had you to thank for it.

—

“so you’re telling me joshua hong records those asmr ‘POV: i’m your boyfriend and we have phone sex’ audios?” seungkwan raises an eyebrow at you, and you let your forehead slam against the table as you slump over in frustration.

“yeah, sort of,” you reply, your voice muffled because of the way your face is pressed up against the table.

“well, are we sure that it’s him? there’s tons of other guys named joshua, right?” seungkwan tries to reason.

“i listened to one of the audios last week, seungkwan,” you sigh, not even slightly embarrassed to admit it, because your friendship with seungkwan lacks any boundaries, which shouldn’t be healthy, but it works for the both of you. still, you don’t mention how his audios are what you’ve been listening to every night, for the past week. therefore, you can say with conviction that: “it’s him. i know.”

“you are a freak,” seungkwan scoffs, rolling his eyes at you. seconds later, his head is perking up and he looks at you with an expectant gaze.

“do you think i could get the link to the playlist too?”

“no! he’s my crush! go find your own audios!”

“knew it. freak.”

—

“were you busy last night? you didn’t answer my calls.”

you nearly let out a scream when you hear the voice that has been plaguing your thoughts for the past week. after managing to compose yourself, you turn to see joshua sitting down next to you, setting his bag down on the floor.

“sorry, i fell asleep early last night,” you smile awkwardly, trying your best to avoid eye contact with joshua.

“i saw you active at 2 a.m. though? and i’ve been trying to reach out for a week, but you never responded,” joshua refutes, and you mentally kick yourself for your stupid addiction to social media. “did i do something wrong? it’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me, but i just want to know why, and apologize for any mistakes i might have made.”

“joshua, it’s not like that,” you shake your head. “it was just-”

whatever bullshit lie you were going to give him gets cut off by the professor walking into the lecture hall. all students fall silent immediately, and the professor begins his lecture unceremoniously.

“let’s talk after class, okay?” you whisper to joshua to make sure the professor won’t hear you.

and to your devastation, joshua leans in closer to whisper into your ear: “let’s get coffee after class, yeah?”

you can only gulp and nod slowly, your head moving like a broken robot. joshua gives you a small smile and pulls away, shifting his attention back to the professor.

you, on the other hand, try your best not to make it obvious just how affected you were simply by joshua whispering into your ear.

—

after class, there’s not much scope for you to escape without joshua noticing, so you resign to your fate and follow joshua to the coffee shop on campus. although it’s just a three-minute walk, every second feels like an hour in itself, especially because you awkwardly keep your mouth shut and joshua keeps glancing at you in a way that he thinks is subtle.

it’s not.

you’re put out of your misery when the familiar glass doors of the coffee shop open up automatically in front of you. after a deep inhale, you enter the building, and joshua leads the both of you to a table in the corner.

“do you want your usual?” joshua asks, and you nod wordlessly. it’s like there’s a countdown only you are aware of, telling you how much time you have left before joshua confronts you about your strange behaviour and what you’re going to tell him.

you don’t use your time very wisely.

you can’t help but look at joshua, who is at the counter, placing the order for your drinks. you can’t help but look at how his lips move as he speaks. you can’t help but look at how his bright eyes form crescents when he smiles at the employee. you can’t help but look at how his graceful hands carry the tray of drinks back to the table.

you pinch your thigh under the table as you panic. joshua is back at the table, and you have to give him an answer. an answer that you haven’t come up with yet.

“you look like i’m here to interrogate you for murder,” joshua laughs, attempting to cut through the tension. “relax, okay? in fact, if you don’t want to talk about it, you could just leave, it’s alright.”

you bite your lip nervously, wondering what you could say to him without giving away exactly why you’ve been avoiding him.

“the link you sent me was- it wasn’t the playlist, joshua,” you blurt out, forgetting all your plans of lying to him.

“so i sent you the wrong playlist,” joshua repeats. “and you’ve been avoiding me because of that?”

“no, you didn’t send me any playlist,” you groan, and joshua still looks confused, which prompts you to take your phone out and open up your texts with joshua. you scroll past all the unanswered texts and stop at the link he sent you.

“click on the link, see where it’s taking you,” you sigh, handing the phone over to him. joshua takes the phone from you and does what he’s told. within a few seconds, his eyes are going comically wide and his face flushes red instantly as he hurries to switch the phone off.

“fuck- y/n, you weren’t supposed to see that-” joshua sputters out. he’s on the brink of hyperventilating, and the other people in the coffee shop keep shooting dirty glares at him.

“joshua, calm down, it’s alright-”

“no! it’s not! you weren’t supposed to know- no one was supposed to know about it!” joshua cuts you off with more panicked rambling, which seems to attract more attention from other people.

“god, joshua, just shut up!” you hiss, leaning across the table to place your hand over his mouth. “this isn’t the place to talk about, this situation. let’s go back to my place, okay?”

at your words, joshua finally calms down enough for you to take him by the arm and lead him out of the coffee shop, both your drinks left untouched. you take him back to your apartment as quickly as possible, offering him a seat on your couch and some water once you’re inside.

there’s a few minutes of silence as joshua drinks the water, and you use the time to blame yourself for being an idiot and telling joshua the truth and throwing the both of you in an awkward situation. your train of thought is interrupted when joshua clears his throat to speak.

“i know you’re probably disgusted by me after- after seeing that,” he starts, his voice shaky. “i’m really sorry for sending you that, it was a complete accident, i swear. i wasn’t trying to be a creep or anything. you’re free to judge me all you want, i deserve it-”

“joshua, i’m not going to judge you,” you assure him, and he looks up to face you, his eyebrows furrowing with surprise. “what you do in your private life is none of my business. even i owe you an apology for acting all strange, but i promise it’s not because i’m disgusted by you.”

“you’re not?” he asks, not quite convinced.

“i’m not,” you confirm, and some of the tension in his shoulders melts away when you shoot him a small smile.

however, his next question has you freezing in your place.

“how did you know it was me, though?” joshua questions. “i mean, you wouldn’t have known if you didn’t listen to the audios. you didn’t, right?”

it’s your turn to blush a violent shade of red and avert your eyes from joshua’s gaze. “i’m- well, i mean, i was- i didn’t know who it was so i, i may have listened to one?”

the previous panic in joshua’s eyes transform into a knowing expression and smirk. “are you sure? just one?”

“no,” you mumble, hoping joshua didn’t pick up on it, but clearly, luck isn’t on your side today.

“so you listened to more than just one?” joshua tilts his head, his voice taking on that sweet lilt you’ve become used to hearing in your earphones. “did you like them?”

your brain, unhelpful as always, decides to bring back bits and pieces from the audios you’ve been listening to all week. joshua’s groans, whispers, and that sound he makes just when he’s about to cum, replay in your ears, and you press your thighs together as arousal spikes in your gut.

“use your words, darling. i can’t read minds,” joshua nudges you, and you finally break.

“i liked them, i liked them a lot,” you admit, eyes boring holes into the floor of your living room. there’s a few beats of silence before a finger is tipping your chin up, and suddenly, joshua is kneeling in front of you, his eyes locked on yours.

then he asks, “did you touch yourself while listening to them?” you nod, and joshua makes a sound of disapproval.

“baby, i told you to use your words, didn’t i?”

“i did, i touched myself,” you confess. “i even- i even made a few donations.”

“really? that’s so sweet of you, darling,” joshua smiles sweetly, yet the hunger in his eyes is anything but sweet. “now that we’re here, you deserve a little gift for being so good, don’t you? let me show you how grateful i am to you?”

“are you- are you serious?” your voice is unsure and hesitant.

“of course i am,” joshua assures. “you’ve been on my mind for a long time, y/n. so, what do you say?”

it doesn’t take you much time to decide what you want. the second you mumble out a soft yes, joshua is leaning in close to capture your lips in a slow kiss.

you’ve spent not only the last week, but the entirety of the time you’ve known joshua wondering how his lips would feel against yours. and it exceeds anything your imagination had come up with.

the way he kisses feels as syrupy as nectar, and it keeps you wanting more, which is why you dig your fingers into the fabric of his shirt to pull him in closer, letting out a gasp when his tongue licks across your lips and moves past them.

his hands, the ones you’ve dreamed of every night, grip at your waist, his thumbs rubbing circles into your warm, exposed skin, where your shirt has ridden up. he then pulls away to latch his lips onto your neck, leaving sloppy, open-mouthed kisses on every inch of skin he has access to.

“fuck, josh, can we- can we take it to my bedroom?” you gasp when you feel his teeth graze against a particularly sensitive spot on your neck.

“show me the way, beautiful.”

—

in the blink of an eye, you’re already laying down on your bed, your clothes stripped off, leaving you in your underwear. joshua is in a similar state of undress as he hovers over you, the boxers he’s wearing doing a poor job of hiding how aroused he is.

“you’re so pretty, y/n,” he whispers, maintaining eye contact with you as he litters your skin with kisses. he swirls his tongue over your nipple over the fabric of your bra, and the sensation makes you let out a sharp whine. “i’ve waited for this moment for so long, you have no idea.”

“me too, fuck, just take the damn thing off-” you grit your teeth because of how joshua keeps teasing you by mouthing at your breasts over your bra. he smirks at you, and with the flick of a wrist, the clasp of your bra is undone, and it’s pulled off your body.

smiling like a cat who has got the cream, joshua takes the liberty to mark your chest, leaving behind red traces of him so that you remember him for days to come. you arch your back, leaning into his touch and letting out whimpers as he tugs at your nipples with his teeth, leaving them red and puffy.

“joshua, i need you touch me, please,” you moan. it’s been a while since you got laid, which makes every touch feel extra sensitive, and joshua’s teasing is only making the unsettling feeling under your skin worse. 

“mm, since you’ve been such a good girl, i’ll give you what you want,” joshua mutters against your skin. you don’t have to beg again, because he’s pulling off your panties next to rub on your clit in gentle circles.

your hips buck up to gain some more friction, and joshua laughs to himself when he sees the desperate scrunch of your brows. he leans down to kiss you once again, reveling in the way you moan into his mouth when he finally slips two fingers inside you.

“god, you’re so tight,” he murmurs into your mouth. “you can’t take me if you’re this worked up, darling.”

“no! i can take you, i promise!” you whine as the scissoring movement of his fingers slow down. “i’m your good girl, i can take it all.”

“desperate for cock, aren’t you?” joshua chuckles, but the sound is mean, and it does a great job of turning you on even more. the feeling of him talking to you in the flesh the way he does in his audios is unreal, and you can’t believe you got this lucky. “i like that, baby. let me stretch you out a little more, hm? so i can fit it all in?”

you nod your head quickly, turning your face to the side to bury it in the pillow as joshua adds a third finger, his thrusts increasing in their pace. you’re trying your best to hold on till joshua finally fucks you, but his fingers are rubbing all the right spots, and before you know it, you’re screwing your eyes shut, clenching down on him and cumming with his name on your lips.

when you finally open your eyes, you feel another gush of wetness drip from your cunt as joshua licks his fingers clean of your orgasm.

“just as sweet as i expected,” he remarks casually, as if he’s talking about the weather.

“joshua, i need you to fuck me right now, or i will actually combust,” you pant, chest heaving with the intensity of your orgasm. 

“you’re being quite demanding now,” joshua raises an eyebrow at you. “but i’ll indulge you. where are the condoms?”

“first drawer, to the right,” you point at the nightstand next to your bed. joshua is quick to retrieve a condom. just as he’s about to tear open the foil packet, you stop him.

“can i do it?” you ask, and joshua’s eyes are filled with amusement.

“go ahead, baby,” he nods.

he’s kneeling on the bed, and you get on all fours in front of him. this time, there’s a smirk on your face as you lick at the bulge straining against the thin fabric of his boxers.

“baby, don’t tease,” joshua says, his tone bordering on an order, so you comply and tug his boxers down. 

“darling, you’re drooling,” joshua’s voice snaps you out of the momentary daze you were in. you feel his hand hold your chin, his thumb gliding against the wetness gathered on your chin. “the sooner you get the condom on, the sooner you get the fucking you deserve.”

hearing his words, you gulp. joshua was, for a lack of better words, huge. bigger than anyone you’ve slept with, and quite frankly, it’s making you nervous. joshua seems to sense that, because he calls your name out again to catch your attention.

“hey, if you’re unsure about this, we could stop here,” joshua offers, his voice gentle now. “i don’t want to force you into anything.”

“no, it’s- i’m not unsure, i want this,” you shake your head. “it’s been a while, that’s all.”

“i’ll go slow with you, if that’s what you want,” joshua says, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice. “i never want to hurt you.”

“i know you wouldn’t,” you look up at him to give him a small smile. his attention is on you as he smiles back, and you seize the opportunity to catch him off-guard.

“oh shit,” joshua lets out a loud groan as you wrap your lips around his tip and suck, hard. he tries his best not to thrust into your mouth, knowing that once he started, it wouldn’t take him much time to cum down your throat. 

you seem to have understood it too, because your mouth doesn’t relent. you keep suckling at the tip like it’s a lollipop, the sound obscene to even your own ears. 

and then, you hear it. the sound he makes in the back of his throat. the breathy whine he lets out just as he’s about to reach his peak. at that very moment, you pull away with a satisfied grin. you pay little attention to the frustrated sounds joshua makes as you roll the condom over his length, pressing a kiss to the head as you lay back against the pillows again, spreading your legs in anticipation.

joshua all but pounces on top of you, claiming your lips in a hungry kiss as he lines his cock up with your hole, slowly nudging it inside you. your breath hitches in your throat at the pleasurable pain of his cock stretching out your walls. joshua distracts you from the pain by kissing you through it, one hand holding your waist, and the other finding yours to intertwine your fingers together.

“you feel so good around me, baby,” joshua says, and you feel the words being spoken against the skin of your neck as joshua finally bottoms out in you.

“feel so full,” you gasp. “please move, please.”

joshua doesn’t need any more convincing. he slowly pulls out and snaps his hips forward in sharp movements. his thrusts are so deep you think you can feel him in your throat. “faster, baby, c’mon,” you beg, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders and your legs tightly wrapping around his waist.

“you want it faster? want me to fuck you till your cunt only remembers the shape of my cock?” joshua grunts, picking up his speed, making you moan even louder. he’s fucking you so good you can’t even string together a coherent sentence, only mindless babbling leaves your lips.

“‘m so close, baby. you’re close too, hm?” joshua rasps, now rubbing your clit in tandem with his thrusts. “i can feel you clenching down on me. gonna milk my cock like a good girl, yeah?”

“fuck, yes joshua, i’m gonna cum-” your moans are only getting louder, and they provoke joshua to go faster to see just how loud you can get for him.

“go on, baby, let go for me,” joshua says, and if those were the magic words, you’re cumming again. this time, joshua reaches his climax at the same time. his thrusts slow down to a deep grind of his hips as you both ride out your orgasms.

“what the fuck, i can’t feel my legs,” you wheeze, your limbs practically reduced to jelly with how satisfying your orgasm was.

“can’t say i’ve ever had a girl say that to me before,” joshua chuckles. he slowly pulls out of you and collapses next to you on the bed.

“you do this with a lot of girls?” you ask, not daring to look at him.

“with a few, but i don’t have the same feelings for them as i do for you,” joshua replies without any hesitation, and it makes you turn your head to the side to look at him.

“you mean that?”

“i’ve had this hopeless crush on you for ages, y/n,” joshua confesses. “so yeah, i mean it. it’s the truth.”

“okay, good, because i really like you too,” your face breaks into a huge smile. “and i don’t want you to think that it’s only because of what just happened. i’ve liked you since the time you sat down next to me during our ‘history of music’ lecture and asked me to be your partner for the project.”

“that’s almost two years ago,” joshua’s mouth widens with surprise. “we’ve liked each other for that long?”

“god, we’re idiots,” you laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “come to think of it, if you hadn’t sent me the wrong link, how many years would we spend pining for each other?”

joshua’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink as embarrassment creeps up on him. “don’t remind me of that. i’m going to be scared of sending someone the wrong link for the rest of my life now.”

“at least it had a good outcome for us,” you shrug jokingly, and joshua’s laugh sounds like music itself.

later on, long after the both of you have showered and cuddled up under your blanket, you’re struck with a ridiculous thought while admiring joshua’s features in the pale moonlight.

“so, now that i’m a special fan, do i get any added benefits from ShuaTalks?”

“darling, i just gave you a live demo of my audios. are you already that desperate for another round?”

“we’ve got to make up for lost time, don’t we?”

“maybe after my early morning class tomorrow.”

“sure, party pooper.”

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[azziesbattybaddie]

You are my survival

Azriel x reader

You and Azriel are mates. Az knows it, you don't, that is until a particularly hard training session when the truth finally come out.

Word count: 5k

Requested: no

Warnings: fem reader, shadow play, smut, swearing, choking kink, praise, Azriel's wingspan, oral F and M receiving, Az is a Dom, PinV, we die like men

🔥 means smut will follow

Authors note: this is the first WIP I've finished in like 2 or 3 years so be gentle on me I also wrote this with one of my friends on discord and she is absolutely amazing, constructive criticism is welcome and plz let me know if I missed any tags. Enjoy!

"Pay attention."

His words weren't harsh by any means. No, Azriel would never raise his voice at you, but he'd be lying if he said training you was easy. He watched as you breathed heavily, body glistening with sweat. You'd been at this for hours. Clearly, you'd underestimated just how difficult swordplay was.

"I'm trying my best"

He let out a small chuckle, watching your brows furrow with frustration as he managed to point his sword at your neck, Again.

"Gotcha."

"dammit!"

You threw your sword down in frustration and slinked over to the corner of the ring. Before hugging your knees to your chest and sulking.

"I'm done, I'm quit!"

Sheathing his sword, Azriel approached you slowly, his footsteps silent on the straw-covered floor. He stopped a few feet away, giving you space but close enough to offer comfort.

"Hey, hey now," he murmured softly.

"Don't give up just yet."

He hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside you, keeping a respectful distance.

"Training is hard, y/n. It's supposed to push you, make you stronger. It's okay to feel frustrated, but don't let it consume you."

He glanced at you, his eyes reflecting genuine concern.

"You're doing better than you think. You've improved so much since we started. It's just... progress takes time. And patience." He offered you a small, encouraging smile.

"And maybe some water? You've been at it all day."

"yeah well maybe I should train with someone else because your a thousand times better than me and you have 400 years of experience on me so even if I am getting better your skill just dwarfs mine..."

Azriel looked at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. He had expected such a reaction from you, and he couldn't say that he blamed you either.

"You underestimate yourself," he told you gently, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"It may take time, but you will get there. Just keep practicing and if you can't believe in yourself, believe in the fact that I'm starting to feel your progress in your punches." As always tried to joke with you slightly but seeing as he got nothing but a half earned smile he let himself fall quiet.

He sighed deeply, his gaze drifting down to his scarred hands fiddling with them idly. There were things he wanted to tell you, things he wanted to share about his past, but he knew you weren't ready for them yet. Maybe one day, when you were strong enough, he could tell you everything.

Following his gaze, you watched as he picked at his nails and cuticles. You had known Az for a few hundred years now and as long as you had known him he had never shared the story of his warped skin and you had never worked up the courage to ask, that was until now.

"can I ask you a question without you getting upset? You can tell me to screw off if you don't want to answer, I won't push." You said in a timid, whispered voice. Azriel turned to look at you, his expression curious.

"Of course, y/n. What is it?"

He kept his tone calm and non-threatening, not wanting to scare you off. Whatever it was, he would do his best to answer honestly.

"what happened to your hands?"

Azriel's expression softened, and he looked down at his hands, his fingers curling slightly as he remembered.

"My hands... They were burned by-" he let out a heavy sigh, flexing his hands under your gaze before continuing.

"they were burned by my brothers, many years ago. I was born a bastard like Cassian so I was treated differently, even by my so-called family. They it left me with these scars."

He lifted his hands, showing you the intricate network of burn scars that covered his palms and fingers. They were a constant reminder of his past, a painful chapter he would rather forget.

"what brings that question to mind?"

you reach to grab his hand but hesitated before touching him.

"I just always wondered if they were painful they still look painful..."He noticed your hesitation and gave you a reassuring nod, encouraging you to continue.

"It doesn't hurt anymore, physically at least. But sometimes, the memories can still be quite painful." He lowered his hands, his gaze returning to yours staying quiet for a beat.

"It's alright, y/n. You won't hurt me by touching them. I won't bite or as Cass would say 'i won't bite unless you want me too'" he says with a half honest grin trying to lift the mood slightly.

He held out his hand, palm facing up, waiting for you to make the first move. He wanted to show you that he trusted you, that he was comfortable with you touching him. "Go ahead, y/n."

you gingerly brushed your fingers over his scarred hand before taking one of his hands in both of your running your thumbs over the back before smile and saying softly

"They always looked soft still..."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he felt his face heat slightly at the praise. He never wanted to feel anything other than your gentle touch on his scarred hand.

"Because of the burns, my skin never calloused so yeah I guess they are."

He turned his hand over, intertwining his fingers with yours. The warmth of your touch seeped into his skin, soothing the old wounds in ways he hadn't experienced in centuries.

"I never associated touch with comfort before. It feels like home." ' you feel like home' is what he would have said if he had the nerve but kept that thought to himself, thinking it to cheesey to say out loud.

His thumb stroked the back of your hand, a tender gesture that spoke volumes about the unspoken bond between you two. In that moment, the weight of his secrets and the darkness of his past seemed to fade away, replaced by a simple, pure connection with you.

you lifted your head to look at him only to find him already looking at you, your faces close enough to feel each others baited breaths.

Azriel's gaze locked onto yours, his heart pounding against his ribcage like a wild drum. The intensity of your stare was almost overwhelming, stirring feelings within him that he thought long buried.

He leaned closer, his lips inches away from yours. He could smell your scent, a mix of sweat and something uniquely you. It was intoxicating, making his pulse race and his resolve weaken.

For a moment, he considered closing the gap, pressing his lips against yours and losing himself in the warmth of your embrace. But he pulled back, breaking eye contact, reminding himself of the danger in such actions.

without thinking of the consequences of your actions you shot your hand out to cradle the side of his face turning him back to look at you and meet him with pleading look, begging him not to turn away.

Azriel's breath caught in his throat as he felt your hand cup his cheek, turning his face back towards you. He met your pleading gaze, his own eyes filled with a mix of longing and fear.

He wanted nothing more than to surrender to the desire burning within him, to lose himself in your embrace and forget about his past, his fears, and his responsibilities. But he knew he couldn't. Not yet, at least.

With a heavy sigh, he gently removed your hand from his face, his fingertips trailing along your skin as he did so.

"y/n, we can't," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"I care for you too much to risk putting you in danger. We need to focus on our training, on becoming stronger, you need to be ready for when hyburn attacks."

your pout deepened as you moved back slowly pulling your hand away from his reluctantly as you bit your lip trying to think of something to say to make him change his mind.

"Az we can still train and I've been getting stronger for years, why can't we just," you trail off, not knowing that words for the feeling you felt for him.

Azriel's chest tightened at your pout, a pang of guilt slicing through him as he cut you off. He hated seeing you upset, especially over something he had done.

"It's not because I don't want to," he assured you, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

"It's because I care about you too much. If I give in to these feelings now, it might lead to something neither of us is prepared for, not with so much at stake with war coming."

He paused, his gaze dropping to your lips before lifting back to meet your eyes.

"We're mates. I've known for a while but even though we were designed for each other. And right now with hyburn threatening to breach our borders, our lives and decisions can't be about love or passion-it's about survival"

you pull his face back to you for a last time before running the pads of your thumbs over his cheeks lovingly

"I know that az, but you are my survival. you said it yourself that your my mate, do you really think that I can live without my mate, without you?" You plead tears starting to form in your eyes.

The words hit him like a physical blow, leaving him momentarily speechless. Your admission cut straight to the core of his being, striking a chord within him that resonated with a depth of longing he didn't fully understand.

"You need my love..." he echoed, the words sounding foreign even to his ears. He'd never been loved, let alone needed. The idea was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"I... I don't know if I can give you that. I've never been loved, and I've never loved anyone the way I think I should. you deserve all the love there is in this world, and I don't think I can give you that."

His voice cracked with emotion, betraying the turmoil of feelings welling up inside him.

"you can,"

You step closer still holding his face you pull a hand away to grab his scarred one and place it on your waist and putting your hand on his chest over his heart gingerly.

"You have so much love in your heart that you can't help but let it spill over. You try to act so cold and calloused to everyone but we all feel you how much you love us. "

At your touch, Azriel felt a surge of emotion course through him, his heart pounding wildly against your palm. He stared down at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of deception or manipulation, but found only sincerity and vulnerability.

"You really believe that, don't you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That I have love to give?"

He hesitated for a moment, then placed his other hand tentatively on your waist. The warmth of your body seeped into his chilled skin, melting some of the ice that had encased his heart for so long.

"I want to believe it," he admitted, his gaze dropping to your lips once more.

"But I'm afraid of putting you in a dangerous situation that you never need to be in. Afraid of losing control and doing something that could harm you. We both know that my work is extremely dangerous and if you got pulled into that I would never fucking forgive myself"

"Azriel... Your the bravest male I've ever met, please don't stop being brave." You take a final step faces inches apart

Azriel's breath hitched as you closed the remaining distance between you, your bodies nearly touching. He could feel the heat radiating off you, drawing him in like a moth to flame.

"Brave doesn't mean fearless, y/n," he said, his voice low and husky.

"Sometimes bravery means facing your deepest fears, even when every instinct tells you to run." You whisper gingerly brushing you fingers over his leathers laying over his heart.

He reached up, his fingers curling around the nape of your neck as he tilted your head back slightly. His thumb brushed against your lower lip, sending shivers down your spine.

"I'm just scared of failing you, of not being able to protect you. But I'm also scared of missing this chance, of letting my fears hold me back from trying to give us the life the cauldron has laid out for us."

"Then don't let your fears hold you back Az, let me hold them instead." You hold his hand over your cheek and guide his thumb over your lip again gently.

Azriel's resistance crumbled under your gentle guidance, his thumb gliding over your soft, plump lips with a tenderness that surprised even him. He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours as he savored the scent of your skin, the warmth of your breath.

"cauldron..." he murmured, his voice thick with longing.

he closed the final inch of distance, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was both tentative and desperate, holding your sides as delicately as fine china.

🔥🔥🔥

you surge you hand up to tangle in his hair and let out an audible cry of relief into his mouth.

Azriel groaned softly into the kiss as your hand tangled in his hair, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure through him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his body as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping across your lips to explore the warm cavern of your mouth.

As he kissed you, Azriel felt a weight lift from his shoulders, a burden he hadn't realized he carried until it was gone. In your embrace, he found a sense of peace, of belonging, that he had never known before.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, panting lightly as he struggled to catch his breath. "Y/n, I've wanted this for so long," he confessed, his voice rough with emotion.

"Wanted to hold you, touch you, taste you now."

"then don't fucking stop now." You practically begged, chasing his lips.

Your impassioned plea sent a jolt of desire through Azriel, his grip on you tightening as he ground his hips against yours, the hard length of his arousal pressing insistently against your belly.

"Oh, god, baby," he gasped, his breath hot against your skin.

"I won't stop, not now, not ever again." His hands trailing down to your ass, gently kneading the flesh under your fighting leathers.

"You're mine, and I'm going to fuck you so hard, make you scream my name until you forget everyone else exists."With that declaration, Azriel swept you up into his arms and winnowed you back to the house of wind before.

carrying you towards his bedroom as he devoured your mouth in a frenzy of kisses, his hands roaming your curves with a hunger that bordered on desperation. your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you and you press your breasts against his chest, mewl desperately against his lips.

The sound of your moans vibrating against his lips was music to Azriel's ears, fueling his already raging desire. He kicked open the door to his bedroom, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity as he laid you down onto the plush mattress.

"Gods, babygirl," he growled, his hands tracing the outline of your curves as he knelt beside you, his eyes devouring every inch of your exposed flesh. "You're so beautiful, so perfect..."

Without another word, he began to undress you, peeling away each layer of your leathers with a reverence that belied his usual cool demeanor. As he revealed your skin to his hungry gaze, he marveled at the sight, at the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips, the sweet dip of your navel.

"And you smell divine,"

Azriel couldn't help but lean down, his tongue darting out to trace a path along the delicate line of your collarbone, savoring the taste of your skin. He licked and nibbled his way down your body, pausing to lavish attention on each breast, his tongue swirling around your nipples before taking them into his mouth, sucking gently.

His hands weren't idle either, slipping down to cup your ass, squeezing the firm flesh as he continued his descent. His shadows hooked around the sides of your panties, dragging them down your thighs with a teasing slowness that left you squirming beneath him.

"Tell me what you want, baby," he whispered against your skin, his voice a husky murmur.

"What do you crave? Tell me how to make you come undone?"

you reached down to Palm the tent in his fighting leathers at the words and using your other hand to wrap the scared flesh of his hand around your throat.

"I want you to use me, own me Azriel."

At your command, Azriel's heart pounded with a wild rhythm, his cock throbbing in your grasp. He allowed you to control his movements, his hand tightening around your throat in a gesture that was both possessive and protective while one of his larger shadows gently brushed against the side of your face in stark contrast.

"You're mine now, babygirl," he breathed, his voice laced with raw need.

"And I plan to worship every gods-damned inch of you."

With that promise, he slid down further, his lips trailing kisses along your inner thigh, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. He paused just above where you needed him most, his eyes locking with yours as he teased you mercilessly.

"Do you want more?" he asked, his voice a seductive whisper. "Do you want my mouth on you, tasting you?"

"gods yes please!" You hold his hand tightly around his throat encouraging him to squeeze harder what you arch your back of the bed in hopes of inching your cunt closer to his mouth.

Azriel's grip around your throat tightened slightly at your eager response, his thumb applying just enough pressure to send a thrill of excitement through you. With a low growl, he finally gave in to your pleas, his mouth descending upon your dripping folds.

He lavished your pussy with attention, his tongue delving deep inside you as he fucked you with slow, deliberate strokes while flicks of dark swirl around your clit. He explored every inch of your sex, savoring the taste of your arousal, the feel of your slick walls clenching around his tongue.

As he ate you out, Azriel's free hand roamed your body, palming your breasts, pinching your nipples, leaving trails of fire and cold in its wake. He could feel your climax building, could taste your sweet submission on his tongue, and it only fueled his own desire.

"come on babygirl, ride my face while you come."

He brought one of your hands to tangle in his hair and wrapped his arms around the tops of your thighs encouraging you to buck into his tongue.

Your hips bucked off the bed as you came hard on his tongue, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave, your juices flowing freely as you cried out his name, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close.

Azriel drank in your release, his tongue lapping up every drop of your essence as he savored the taste of your pleasure. He held you tight, his mouth never leaving your pussy as you rode out the waves of your orgasm, your cries of ecstasy music to his ears.

Only when you finally went limp did he release you, his face glistening with your arousal. He crawled up your body, his chocolate eyes blazing with a fierce possessiveness as he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss.

"Now it's my turn," he growled against your lips, his hands tearing at his leathers to free his straining cock.

"Get on your knees, baby, I want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours."

You eagerly roll onto your stomach and push yourself off the bed and onto your knees Infront of him batting your lashes and staring up at him with lust filled eyes.

Azriel watched you move, his heart pounding with a mix of desire and admiration. Your eagerness was intoxicating, fueling his own need even further. He discarded his leathers completely, revealing his veined cock, throbbing with need.

Azriel's breath caught in his throat at the sight of you kneeling before him, your eyes filled with hunger and desire. He ran a hand through your disheveled hair, his fingers tangling in your locks as he guided your head towards his aching cock.

"Open wide, love," *he murmured, his voice thick with need.

"Show me how much you need me."

you took him into your mouth, Azriel let out a low groan, his hips bucking involuntarily. Your warm, wet mouth felt like heaven, and he had to fight the urge to thrust too hard, too fast. Instead, he set a steady pace, his hands guiding your head as you sucked the tip every time he pulled out.

"Fuck, good girl," he gasped, his grip tightening in your hair. "You fucking feel incredible..."You moaned softly as you took him deeper into your mouth working your tongue over his cock, your hands reaching up to cup his balls as you continue to suckle on his cock.

The sensation of your tongue working over his length, coupled with the feeling of your hands on his balls, sent jolts of pleasure coursing through Azriel's body. He watched you, entranced by the sight of your lips stretched around his cock, the sound of your soft moans vibrating against him.

"That's right, baby," he purred, his voice heavy with lust.

"Take all of me... Show me how much you want this..."

He began to move faster, his hips rocking into your mouth, setting a rhythm that had him teetering on the brink of release. His fingers threaded through your hair, urging you on, pushing you to take him even deeper.

"fuck yes! Good girl, just like tha- oh such fucking good girl!"

You moan louder now sending subtle vibrations down his shaft, your cheeks hollowing out as you suck harder on his cock, taking him deeper each time until he hits the back of your throat. You gag softly but quickly recover and continue sucking him off as if your life depends on it.

The feeling of your throat constricting around his cock was almost too much for Azriel to bear. He grunted, his hands gripping your hair tighter as he fucked your mouth with abandon, his hips snapping forward with each thrust.

"Oh gods, baby..." he groaned, his voice ragged with need.

"You're going to make me come so fucking hard..."

His cock throbbed in your mouth, signaling his imminent release. With a final, powerful thrust, he spilled his seed into your willing mouth, his cum coating your tongue and spilling down your chin.

"That's it... Swallow it all..."

Swiping your fingers over your chin you collect the molten cream and swallow every last drop of his cum, your throat working to milk him dry, your eyes locked on his as you gaze up at him with a look of complete satisfaction and devotion.

Azriel watched, transfixed, as your throat bobbed swallowing his cum, your tongue working to milk him dry. He let out a satisfied sigh, his fingers gently stroking through your hair as he admired the look of complete satisfaction on your face.

"You're amazing," he murmured, pulling out of your mouth and offering you a hand up.

"I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did."

With a smile, he pulled you into his arms for a deep, passionate kiss, his hands roaming over your body as he savored the taste of you still lingering on his tongue.

You lean into his touch, your body pressed tightly against his as you kiss him back just as passionately, your hands running over his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his skin.

Azriel dominated you mouth with a throaty moan, his hands exploring your curves with a growing urgency. He broke away from the kiss only long enough to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, savoring the taste of your skin.

"I want more," he whispered huskily,

"but I think we should save some energy for later."With that, he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you back to the bed where he laid you down, his eyes darkening with desire as he looked down at you.

You giggle lightly as he lays you back down on the bed, your legs parting slightly as you invite him closer.

Azriel's gaze followed the movement of your legs, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he saw the invitation in your eyes. He climbed onto the bed, settling between your thighs, his weight supported on his elbows as he gazed down at you.

"Impatient little thing, aren't you?" he teased, his voice low and playful.

He leaned down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened peak before giving it a gentle bite.

"But don't worry, love. I plan to take full advantage of that"

Feeling your hands in his hair, Azriel gave a low chuckle, the vibration of his laughter traveling straight to your breasts. He continued his attentions, alternating between teasing your nipples and tracing patterns across your skin with his tongue.

"Hmm, sounds like someone wants more," he murmured, his voice muffled against your flesh.

Pulling back slightly, he shifted his position, aligning his cock with your slick entrance. Without another word, he pushed inside you, filling you completely with a single, smooth stroke.

You arch your back, pressing your breasts back into his waiting mouth as he teases and bites at your sensitive nipples, a soft moan escaping your lips. Your hands find their way to his hair, tangling in the strands as you pull him closer, desperate for more of his touch.

"Fucking hell, babygirl..." he groaned, his hips beginning to rock slowly as he adjusted to your tight warmth. impatience."

He moved to your other breast, lavishing the same attention upon it, all while grinding his hardening cock against your core. Your back arches off the bed as he fills you, a sharp gasp leaving your lips at the sudden intrusion. But as he begins to move, slow and deliberate, you relax into him, your inner walls clenching around his thickness.

"Ah... yes..." you breathe out, your hands tightening in his hair.

"Just like that... Don't stop..."

Hearing your plea, Azriel picked up the pace, his hips snapping forward with increasing urgency. Each thrust drove him deeper into your welcoming heat, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

"Gods, you feel incredible," he growled, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue dueling with yours as he fucked you relentlessly.

His hands roamed your body, squeezing your ass cheeks, tracing the curve of your waist, and finally, cupping your breasts once again, thumbing your nipples into stiff peaks.

You meet his kiss with equal fervor, your tongue dancing with his as you lose yourself in the sensation of being filled so completely. Your legs wrap around his ass, pulling him even deeper within you, urging him on.

"Oh god, Azriel!" you cry out, your walls spasming around him, milking him for all he's worth.

Feeling your orgasm ripple through you, Azriel let out a guttural roar, burying himself as deep as he could go as he found his own release. He came hard, pulsing streams of hot cum inside you, his body shuddering with the force of it.

"baby Fuck, y/n-" he gasped, collapsing forward, catching himself on his elbows to keep from crushing you before pulling out and gently resting himself on top of you, his hips still between your legs and his head resting on your breasts.

He stayed there for a moment, panting, his heart pounding against your chest, before slowly rolling to the side, taking you with him so you were draped across his chest.

"That was... intense," he panted, his fingers trailing lazily up and down your spine.

"Are you okay, baby?"

"Yeah... That was amazing." you murmur, snuggling closer to him, enjoying the afterglow of their lovemaking.

As you lay there, spent and satisfied, your the aftershocks of your orgasm. You nod weakly, a contented smile tugging at your lips.

Azriel smiled, his fingers gently stroking through your hair as you nestled against him. He could feel the warmth of your body pressed to his, the steady beat of your heart against his chest.

"I know, baby," he said softly, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

"And it's only going to get better from here."

His hand trailed lower, his fingers finding your hip, where he gave a gentle squeeze.

"Now rest, we've got plenty of time to explore more later when you can feel your legs again." He taunted with a tired grin.

You sigh contentedly with a fucked out smile on your face, feeling utterly relaxed and loved. You close your eyes, letting the warmth of his body envelope you, and drift off to sleep in his arms.

Watching you drift off to sleep, Azriel couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the moment. Here, in his embrace, safe and protected, with his beautiful mate, it was everything he could ever want. And now, it seemed, he had it all.

With a final lingering look, he allowed himself to relax fully, his breathing evening out to match yours. As he drifted toward sleep, he knew one thing for certain - this was just the beginning.

[tiredeg]

People everywhere sense imminent danger all around. They sense that whatever just happened is the beginning of the savagery, not the end. People abandon their vehicles and begin to flee on foot. They exit buildings, run down stairs and out doors. People in subway trains and on busses, in halted elevator cars, work to pry open emergency exits and doors. They crawl, walk, and run for their lives. The most basic human instinct is to survive.—Annie Jacobsen, Nuclear War: A Scenario

They’re going to die, probably.  

“It was stupid of us to take the elevator,” Oscar says. 

Carlos manages an eye roll back at him. Oscar’s surprised the motion of his eyeballs doesn’t unbalance him, perched as he is on the railing around the edge of the elevator car, calves straining, reaching his phone up towards the emergency lighting strips. As high as possible, as if he can will the texts out of his phone, force the words out of the frozen elevator, up the shaft and out into the sky, send them floating through the air towards the recipients, soaring past the bombs coming the opposite way. 

Oscar’s no expert but he knows enough Spanish to be able to decipher the glimpses he’s managed of the screen. I will be ok. I love you all. Incongruous against the previous message in the thread, a picture of a scrappy white dog asleep on a couch. Oscar had watched Carlos add a heart react to it not two hours ago when they got back to the hotel after FP2. 

God, two hours ago. One hour and fifty minutes before someone told them to check their phones, before the awful silence as they watched the video. A farmer somewhere in California had put it on Facebook, a mushroom cloud blooming over a power plant. It was shared everywhere, Oscar had watched it with Kim, hunched over Twitter, or X, or whatever. The farmer is probably dead now. Facebook certainly is, anyway.

The bomb hit hundreds of miles away from their hotels in Vegas. Not far enough.

Finally, Carlos hops down, collapsing beside Oscar on the floor of the cab. The wall opposite them is a mirror, floor to ceiling, so Oscar doesn’t have to turn his head. It’s easier this way. 

“I think they have gone through,” Carlos blurts out, like he’d wanted to keep quiet but the words forced their way up his throat. “It has the two grey ticks. I think that means it's gone from my phone but I will not get blue ticks without signal.” 

It takes Oscar a second to catch his drift. There’s no way the messages went through. The signal’s been gone for a few minutes, Oscar reckons, about the same time the elevator stopped. Carlos isn’t an idiot, he must know. Oscar knows. 

“I think that’s right,” Oscar says. “They’ll have signal in Spain still, so they’ll have got it.” 

He feels Carlos sag a little at his words. They’re touching from shoulder to knee, something they wouldn’t have risked this morning. Doesn’t matter now. Probably shouldn’t have mattered at the time. 

“How would you go, if you could choose?” Carlos asks.  

Oscar shrugs. “Dunno, never really thought about it.” 

“Don’t be boring, think about it now.” Carlos shoves into him, puts his body weight behind it, but Oscar’s expecting it, can see him decide in the mirror. He braces himself, doesn’t move. Now they’re tangled. Now he can think. 

“I guess I read this book in school. It was nuclear stuff but not bombs, just radiation, so it was really slow. This one girl took her boyfriend’s good car out for one last drive, then floored it off a cliff in the end. I think I’d like that.” 

Carlos doesn’t say anything, just leans his head onto Oscar’s shoulder proper. If they stay like this too long Oscar won’t be able to feel his arm. Maybe that’s how he’d like to go, let Carlos lean on him limb by limb until he can’t feel anything anymore.  

“He was with her? The boyfriend?” Carlos mumbles. 

“Huh?” 

“In the nice car. Was she with her boyfriend?” 

“Oh, well not exactly, he was in a submarine I think, I don’t remember it all. They might not have been boyfriend and girlfriend actually, or maybe they were, I don’t know. They definitely loved each other.” 

“Oh,” Carlos says, “that’s nice.” 

“Yeah. What about you, what way would you go?” 

Oscar watches in the mirror as Carlos looks up at him.  

“I had a different answer but I like yours better, I think.” 

“Copycat. I suppose you can come along.” Oscar shifts, rearranging Carlos’s arms around him. 

“Who would drive?” Carlos asks. 

Oscar wants to be the one who wants to drive. He could take that role, let Carlos hold on as their imaginary car gets closer to the point of no return, make the decision to keep the car pointing forward, his foot to the floor. He could take the wheel, if he had to. 

In the mirror he can see Carlos is still looking at him. He meets his own eyes in the reflection, then lets his head turn, lets himself look for real. 

“I don’t want to drive,” Oscar whispers.

“Okay,” Carlos shrugs, easy. “I’ll do it.” 

The emergency strips go dark. Oscar doesn’t know what that means, why they worked when the power went out or why they’ve stopped now. He’s annoyed at how he expects his eyes to adjust, blinking hard when they don’t as if he can force the nonexistent light into his pupils.  

He can still feel. He’s shaking, he thinks. Carlos’s arms tighten around him, unsteady too. Oscar revises his previous answer, overwhelmingly glad of the elevator; they can’t get lost in here, it’s too small. He doesn’t really know the timeline on these things, maybe it’ll take a day, maybe a few seconds. They’re here for now. 

[benedictscanvas]

pretty boy, pretty girl - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

a/n: okay yes. it has been six months. which is actually mad to me, but there we are - whoops! i've been off following my dream and wrote this while procrastinating an assignment, so this is by no means a return!! honestly i was just itching to write it, but i don't know how much time i have for more - enjoy nevertheless <3

warnings: just a little bit of suggestion towards the end, reader is referred to as 'pretty girl' as the title implies amongst other pet names, quite a lot of swearing (some things don't change)

---

“Hi love.”

Jamie barely murmurs it as he walks past you, can’t help himself but to drag a palm along your back, one shoulder blade to the other, as he goes. 

He knows he’s bold sometimes, but he swears it’s instinct. He glances back to see whether your expression holds any discomfort, but all he finds is your grin, a tiny wave. He continues on his path towards the canteen, knowing that your corridor conversation with Rebecca is probably important.

Somewhere between here and there, he decides to get your lunch, your usual, and sits alone on a table until you appear.

You do, three and a half minutes later. As soon as he sees you, the irrepressible urge to make you grin again is back with a vengeance. He waves you over to his table with a gesture to the food he’s got for you and- there it is again.

If he was a slightly smarter man, maybe he’d consider why all it took was the sight of him to draw your lips upwards, set your eyes alight.

“Thought I’d save y’ from the queue,” he speaks, still soft, in a tone he feels he only uses with you. You match his unnecessary low volume.

“Thanks, angel,” you say easily, and you must not see his stomach doing flips, “Too good to me, you are.”

“Shut up,” he deflects, wonders if you can see him fluster at your nickname for him, “Are you still coming tonight?”

You groan. He frowns, and you quickly correct.

“Sorry. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, you sound proper convinced, an’ all.”

You chuckle, taking a bite out of your sandwich and taking a pause to chew. Jamie eats too, content to let you think before you speak. It was slowly teaching him to do the same.

“I’m just boring, Jamie. My favourite people are all under this roof, but usually they’re sober, you know?”

He often forgets you don’t really drink. Your friendship (however sour that word feels in relation to you) usually confined to these halls, to the pitch, to various football stadiums up and down the country. When they all get a chance to let loose, you’re very quick with the excuses, but he’s believed them blindly until this moment.

“Shit, y’ don’t drink, right? I can’t imagine that’s much fun in a club. I won’t tell anyone if you happen to come down with an illness or somethin’ this afternoon.”

You’re grinning at him again, all bright and sunny. It’s downright infectious, so Jamie nudges your foot with his on purpose and then apologises like it’s an accident.

“You’re alright,” you reassure, “I will join tonight. Even if it just proves to myself I’m not missing out on anything. Maybe Colin’s not as bad a drunk as I’ve been led to believe.”

Jamie winces.

“No, he is pretty bad,” he admits and then finally comes up with something to make you more comfortable, “Hey, what about this? I won’t drink either and we can spend the evening laughin’ at everyone else.”

You poke his hand and he tries not to drop his crisp packet.

“It’s everyone’s ‘relax and recharge’ night, Ted said. We both know you relax much easier with a few drinks in you. And I’d never judge anyone for that, I really hope it doesn’t come across like I’m judging any-“

“It doesn’t, sweetness,” he cuts in, “But actually, I’ll relax better if I’m one hundred percent positive that you’re relaxing too. What better way than judgin’ everyone else, together like?”

You purse your lips thoughtfully, mid-chew. He feels like he’s holding his breath, like he’s underwater and you’re in charge of the oxygen tank.

“Well, see how you feel when we’re there. It sounds lovely but only if you’re still up for it when we’re right next to a bar,” you say, still unconvinced. He wants to convince you fully, but he can’t decide if he should argue with you or kiss you silly before you speak again, “Hey, if not, I’ll buy you a drink?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line, love.”

“I said it, I meant it. Girls can buy drinks for pretty boys, you know.”

He thinks you might have removed his oxygen tank now. There’s some cruelty in that sentence but you don’t know you’re wielding it. He wills himself to flirt back even though it’ll only make him feel sick.

“Okay, pretty girl. One passionfruit J2O, please.”

Another grin. He’s so fucking fucked.

---

He’s been waiting for you for around forty minutes. He doesn’t know if that’s the normal amount of time you take to get ready, even if he wishes he knew, so he just waits, leaning against his car.

After fifty, he decides there’s no harm in just checking you’re alright and haven’t slipped on a sparkly floor that an evening cleaner has done a number on.

You mentioned going to the kit room to get changed, and he meets Will on his way there.

“Hey mate, you seen Y/N?”

Will looks paler than he’s ever been. Guilty. Jamie narrows his eyes and waits.

“Kit room.”

It’s all that Will says. When Jamie doesn’t walk off immediately, still waiting for an explanation for Will’s strange demeanour, Will turns around and legs it all the way down the corridor, turns left at the end and never returns.

Jamie shakes his head and continues in the direction of the kit room. The closer he gets, the more he hears. Muffled banging, shouting. He picks up the pace.

“Y/N? Love?”

“Jamie! Jamie, in here!”

Your voice floats out from the kit room and he hurries over. Still very confused, Jamie turns the door handle and finds the door won’t budge, however hard he shoves his shoulder against it.

“It’s locked, babe. Did you lock it?”

He hears your exasperated sigh and feels a little embarrassed.

“No I didn’t bleeding lock it! Well, I did, when I was getting changed, but then when I unlocked it my side it had been locked from the outside.”

Jamie struggled to put the dots together. Had Will locked you in? Judging by the running, he had… and he’d done it on purpose. A spark of anger shot down Jamie’s spine but he tried to convince himself there must be a reason.

Before he could, there was a hand on his on the door, pulling him away. It was being unlocked by another hand and then he was being shoved inside, hard enough to stumble against one of the benches. A piece of paper was thrown at his face and Jamie groaned as he heard the lock click back in place.

“What the fuck?” he muttered as he stood up fully, more dazed than angry now as he stared at the locked door.

“Jesus, Jamie, are you alright? Who the fuck was that?”

“I dunno,” he says, staring at the door as if it might have answers. Your hand on his face wakes him up, his eyes shifting to yours where you look him over with concern.

“You’re alright, though?”

You ask it like you need the answer, and Jamie needs you to stop trailing a finger along his hairline either way.

“Fine, love,” he assures you, patting the juncture between your shoulder and neck gently until your hands drop to your sides. Then he raises his voice, and he’s not really talking to you anymore, “Whoever’s locked us in here as some kind of joke won’t be fuckin’ alright though!”

No answer. He picks up the small piece of paper from the floor and reads it in his head.

Tell her, you prick.

He’s actually going to hit Roy with his car. Lightly, definitely not enough to damage him, but enough to really, really piss him off.

This was all some ridiculous attempt to make him tell you how he felt about you? Absolutely not. Never. He wouldn’t be coerced into something so delicate, so important.

“What’s it say?”

You’re peering over the top of the paper, but he folds it in two before you can read anything. His chuckle comes out strained.

“It says: Get fucking pranked. Must be Roy, he’s probably scared Will into helpin’ him, the fucker. I’m afraid it’s payback for putting all his socks on the ceiling last week, babe, an’ you’ve been caught in the middle.”

You pause, staring at your shoes. For some reason, you look far more forlorn than the situation calls for, but it’s gone before he can think about it further.

“On the ceiling?”

He nods and you giggle. It’s only as you step away from him in your laughter that he realises how close you had been. He should’ve savoured it.

It’s also only as you step away that Jamie finally gets a glimpse of your outfit and nearly reaches out to the nearby bench for strength. He’s never seen you in a v-neck anything before, let alone a dress, and he thinks it might do him in.

“You look good,” he says lamely, then tries again, “Great. Fan-fuckin’-tastic, I mean.”

“I like that last one,” you smile, ducking your head. He thinks, or rather hopes, you’re a little flustered, “Fan-fuckin’-tastic happens to be what I was going for.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, words gone as soon as he’d found them. And now he was staring. Shit.

“I like your suit,” you say, maybe breathless yourself. It must be his ears. You reach up as if you might fiddle with his lapel but just point towards it before your hand drops again. You practically fall down onto the bench you’re both stood beside and he follows, ever obedient, “Shame no one else will ever see it. How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”

The suit isn’t for anyone except you. That’s what he’d say if he had any stupid bravery. He’s an awful coward, he thinks.

“Until Roy gets bored or Keeley finds out I reckon,” Jamie guesses, “Y’ wanna play I-spy?”

You sigh, but when he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye, you’re grinning your silly, lovely grin again.

“I spy with my little eye…”

---

It is around 11pm, when Jamie has not long fallen asleep against the jacket he had scrunched behind his head, that he feels your hand on his ankle. He can tell, as he wakes without opening his eyes, that you’re not trying to rouse him. The touch is light, feathery. Maybe an accident.

No, not an accident. It wouldn’t have lasted this long, and your thumb is drawing absentminded circles into his ankle bone. You think he’s asleep and you’ve reached out to hold him anyway.

He opens his eyes but doesn’t move. His legs are stretched out on the bench in front of him and you sit upright next his sock-clad feet, one hand on his bare ankle. You’re staring at a piece of paper so intently he wonders what could possibly be so interesting.

“This doesn’t say get fucking pranked, Jamie,” you murmur, and his hand flies to his jacket pocket. It must have fallen out when he slumped into a slumber. He’s sat up in a blink, watching the hand that had been so soothing, fall back at your side suddenly.

“I’m sorry. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“No, don’t,” you insist, still staring at the piece of paper. Instead of whirling on him for answers, you reach calmly into one of the boot cubbies beside your head and pull out a piece of paper from one of the boots. You chuck it at him without looking.

He unfolds it with careful, if shaky, hands.

Tell him, you silly shit.

It takes him an absurdly long time to understand what the hell this second piece of paper means. Later, when the two of you look back on this moment (and you do so often), you’ll wonder how he could have been so dense and he’ll spin you a line about how too good to be true it all felt. But in the moment, he has no lines and no words, until your hand lands heavy on his knee this time.

“Jamie,” you say softly, through a grin that is so different from your usual that he could pass out. It’s so beautiful and so strikingly lovesick that he thinks he might actually be sick, “What do you have to tell me?”

“What?”

He feels dumber than he’s ever felt. But your hand is still on his knee and now you’re shuffling closer to him on the bench.

“What do you have to tell me?” you repeat, then you poke his chest playfully as you add, “You prick.”

He still looks confused, so you clearly decide the best way to catch him up is to kiss him.

You pull away after a moment, a moment of pure heaven, because clearly you don't want to kiss him fully until he's all clued in.

"Come on, pretty boy," you say, teasing, "Figure it out. I was going to buy you a passionfruit J2O. It's the sign of all signs."

He should be laughing at your joke, but all he really wants to do is kiss you again. And again.

Maybe again.

"Oh pretty girl," he says, and he feels the rumble of his low tone in his chest. He places a hand on your face, fingers itching at your hairline, "I'll tell you anything ya wanna hear, I swear. Anythin'."

He hears your breath hitch, but he feels it too, where the meat of his palm is covering your neck.

"Anything?" you answer back, "I could have a lot of fun with this."

You scrunch up your brow like you're thinking and he's so stupidly in love with you that he just tells you. Too-soon be damned.

"Smooth talker," you laugh, giddy, and you kiss him again. And it's so good that he doesn't even remember you didn't say it back until hours later.

(at which point, you say it back so many times and in so many ways, Jamie is certain that he's the luckiest man in the world. he might not hit Roy with his car after all)

[pookietv]

something sooner | arthurtv

you asked for arthurtv smut and here i am to deliver!!! i am lowkey quite proud of this one soooo :3

cw: smut

arthur had always viewed you as the whirlwind of energy in his life. sure, he wasn't a complete homebody, but when he compared himself to you, he felt like one. you were always somewhere, museums, restaurants, clubbing: if something was on, you were there.

but despite that, you and arthur had remained friends over the years - late night catchups and your constant loop of new stories from strange situations you always seemed to wind up in made his life seem more exciting.

so when he asked to meet up with you, there was no surprise on his end when he got a text back reading

'i'm out right now, but i'd love to see you later if you wanna come by mine for a few drinks or something, maybe around teatime?'

so he had spent the day waiting patiently lumbering around his house. and he didn't mind waiting around for you, he really didn't. you were like some sort of mini celebrity in his eyes, in the way he felt lucky to even be near you, that you constantly made time for him in a way he felt you did for so few others.

he had spent some time trying to wrestle with the fact that these feelings were probably more than friendship, and now had come to accept it. friends didn't feel like this about their friends, he realised, and had accepted the fact that what he felt towards you was far past even a small crush, and could possibly even class as infatuation.

but that was an issue he felt that he could bury down and ignore, thinking it would inevitably ruin your friendship, and he'd rather have some of you then none, he'd tell himself.

as soon as he felt it was socially acceptable to call it 'teatime', he dragged himself over to your apartment as quickly as he could, arriving at your door and giving it three brief knocks, to which he heard your soft, sing-song voice 'come in!', and he did just that.

taking off his jacket and slipping off his shoes as he always did, you wandered towards him from your kitchen, a sweet smile plastered on your face as you spotted him, and embraced him in a hug.

you noticed how good he looked, in his plain black shorts and a white shirt, 'whales of the world', an outfit he must have worn a hundred times in front of you, but yet he never failed to make it look so good.

as soon as his nose buried in your hair for a moment, he recognised that you smelled a little different than you normally did, an overwhelming saccharine smell.

"smells like you've been having a feast," he grinned, hanging up his coat as he looked down at you.

you rolled your eyes a little at his joke, "hm, i've been to the cinema, maybe it's that?"

"you were at the cinema? should have said, i would have come with," he smiled nonchalantly, and your slight smile faulted awkwardly for a moment as you laughed a little.

"oh, i wasn't alone, was with someone," you responded, a slight shrug as you walked into the front room, his padding footsteps an indication he was following not far behind.

"well, i forgot you had other more important friends than me," he said jokingly, sitting himself down on the sofa next to her as you casually sat facing him, back against the armrest of the sofa and your feet resting gently against arthur's lower thigh.

"wasn't a friend, was more of a date type thing," you hummed out slightly, and as the words fell so simply off her tongue, arthur could feel his heart sink slightly.

processing the words felt like a slight knife twist in his gut, the slight twinkle of hoping against hope that you had maybe liked him back felt like a stamped out light. the relaxed way you had said date, like it was no big deal, had cut him slightly deeper than he had expected.

he felt like he had been so foolish, to think he could act like just your friend. his voice sounded slightly more timid, and restrained as he murmured out, "a date?"

you nodded, your eyes slightly avoiding his, and instead picking at your own fingernails. "yeah, it was nice. the movie was cool, actually, quite funny. i laughed so hard at one point i felt like if looks could kill, i would have frozen to death in the cinema seat." you laughed a slight bit.

he could feel the disappointment wash over him. he had always felt like he had a piece of you, in a way - even if that thought was just to pacify his feelings, he felt the way you always made sure he was involved, always checking up on one another, your trust in him, the way you always leaned on him, or were touching in some sort of way, he felt, was some level of intimacy.

thinking of you laughing with someone else was a bitter pill to swallow.

he forced out his voice, "that's great," he managed to say, "i'm glad you had fun,"

you smiled, but it didn't fully reach your eyes - arthur had been more reserved tonight, you had thought. "yeah, it was good. i might see him again, who knows,"

he felt like the burning feeling in his chest was an indication, or a force, that he had to say something.

"um, hey," he started, his voice quietened. you could see the slight red on his cheeks, a nervous tinge, "i think i need to tell you something."

you looked up at him, head tilted slightly, expectant.

"i... i think i might be in love with you." he blurted out, the words hanging heavy in the air for a moment.

your eyes widened in surprise, the blood rushing to your face and gracing your cheeks in the way he felt was so perfectly you, gracing your face like the most modern work of art in history.

"i.. i didn't know," you murmured out, voice shy. "i always thought you just saw me as a friend,"

seeing you shy was something he never thought he'd see - you, his most outgoing friend, the girl that somehow knew everyone, and got invited to everything.

"how could i not like you?" he continued, trying his best to keep his voice steadied, "i've always liked you. just didn't think you liked me,"

the red on your cheeks excited arthur, as you looked away embarrassed, "i did," you admitted softly, "just figured we were friends, so i, uh, pushed my feelings aside,"

arthur felt his heart pounding like a war drum, as the air in the room felt thicker.

he leaned closer to you, the distance between you almost non existant, as you could feel his breath against your skin, almost raising goosebumps.

"if i had known," he murmured out, "i would have done something sooner,"

your own breath hitched slightly, as your head cocked, almost inquisitive, "like what?" you murmured out.

his eyes darkened slightly as he looked down at you, thinking of all the times he had spent pining after you, the slight brushes of your skin against him making him feel hot, and he couldn't believe that all the time he had spent in near agony at the thought of you with someone else, it hadn't ever been something you noticed.

"like this," he murmured, almost feverishly closing the gap between you, the touch of his lips against yours like a crackle of electricity, "would have done this," he continued, before you could even respond, his lips moved slightly, to the line of your jaw, his finger tilting your head upwards slightly as you felt his stubble brush against you, the feeling leaving your mind spinning, "would have touched you, like i've been thinking of doing for so long,"

the need in his voice, longing thick with desire sent a wave of heat through your body, a slight moan leaving you, gentle fingers weaving up to tangle in his hair, tugging slightly.

his other hand quickly moved to lay against your waist, thumb brushing agonisingly slow against your lower stomach, before he pulled back slightly, breaths still heavy, eyes slightly darkened with lust.

"fuck, i... is this okay? i, don't want you to feel any pressure or anything, i just-" he mumbled out, before your hands were quick to reach against the hem of his top, tugging shyly.

"please don't stop, arthur," you said softly, voice almost a whine, but to him it was like a blessing, the sight of you tugging at his shirt and the slight pleading in his voice only stoked the fuel beginning to rage in him, and he eagerly nodded, grinning to himself slightly, his hands moving to his own shirt and pulling it over his head with ease.

"don't think i could stop, even if i wanted to," he panted out slightly, his fingers moving up to the fabric of your own shirt, peeling it from your head in an impatient speed, a slight groan leaving his lips as his eyes fell on your bare chest. "you're so pretty," he murmured against your skin, his teeth gently grazing against your perked nipple.

slight mewls escaped you, one of your hands gently grasping around his upper arm, the heat of his skin comforting as you squeezed slightly, "want you so bad, arthur," you said, almost shy, and you heard a slight chuckle from him.

"the last thing i expected from you was to be so shy," he said, looking at you through his eyelashes with a grin. "can't hear you, lovie," he teased playfully, thumbs tucking into the waistband of your pants, easing them down slowly.

"please, arthur, i want you so bad," you whined out, a little louder now, hips raising slightly as your trousers became discarded onto the floor, leaving you in a pair of lacy panties, still pressed against the armrest of your sofa, arthur pressed above you, head level with your lower stomach.

"i know, sweetheart, soon," he smirked slightly, the pad of his thumb running over the dampened material of your underwear, "just wanna take my time with you, been waiting for this for so long," he murmured, beginning to draw soft circles through the material.

"don't wanna take time, pleas-" you tried to mumble out, but you were met with almost a condesending 'shh' from arthur, as he pulled down your underwear, leaving you bare in front of him, arousal practically drooling from you.

"so wet already?" he murmured out, and before you had anymore time to pathetically plead with him, his forearms moved to clamp around your thighs, lips attaching to you, making an embarrassingly loud moan fall from your lips.

his tongue dragged up from your entrance to your clit, his mouth giving a slight bit of suction, tongue rolling across your sensitive bud as the breath felt sucked from your lungs, it was all you could do to pant out a soft, "oh... fuck," and feel his lips curl into a slight grin against you.

"y'taste so good," he practically groaned against you, almost feeling his pants tighten, it was all too much - the sweet little noises, your hips bucking up and the taste of you almost felt like overstimulation, but the best kind.

the longer he shoved his face into your soaked cunt, the more that it wasn't enough to eat you out until you were whining, he needed to be inside you.

so with a soft final lick against you, he lifted his head up with a grin.

you, on the other hand, denied of the connection, whimpered out almost desperately, breaths shortened and needy, left feeling almost dazed. "arthur..." you pleaded, but as he lifted himself up slightly, tugging down his own shorts and taking himself into his hand, already painfully hard, you could almost feel your mouth water.

you reached your hand out, grasping his length, thumb rubbing slightly over the tip, making him almost buck up into your hand, making you giggle slightly.

it wasn't long before he couldn't take anymore, and lined himself up with you, the tip nudging at your sensitive spot slightly before pressing against your entrance, using your arousal to lubricate himself, one of your hands reaching up to rest on his shoulder, the other tugging gently at his hair as a plea to hurry up.

with a smooth motion, he pushed himself forward, the stretching sensation making your head spin, the controlled movement as he pushed himself deeper, the base of his cock touching you as he bottomed out, pressing warm, slightly haphazard kisses against your shoulder, before gently biting at your collarbone, trying to muffle slightly in his own grunt of pleasure from the noises you were making, and the snug tightness of your walls gripping him. the stretch you felt subsided into a satisfying fullness, and whines escaped you needily.

"arthur, please," you pleaded out, eyes glassed and lidded, practically half shut.

without another moment to breathe, his hips pulled out of you, and thrusted forward, the unexpected force almost winded you as his hips began to move quickly, a fluid motion, jerking your body with each movement, as you allowed your forehead to rest against arthur's shoulder.

"f-fuck, you feel so good, so so good," he practically grunted under his breath, one hand holding himself up and the other tightly squeezing your hip, gently rocking it against his own, creating friction that could only make you mewl out whines louder. you were close to dumb, only noises escaping you being increasingly pathetic moans and the occasional expletive.

arthur taking control wasn't something you had expected, but fuck you weren't complaining, his hand that had been squeezing your plush skin instead working it's way towards your clit, your own thighs opening even wider, eagerly, head thrown back as the circles he rubbed against your sensitive spot matched the rougher thrusts.

his eyes were practically glued to your face, watching each little twist and contortion as your eyes screwed shut and your lips fell beautifully open, and he felt filled with pride, in an odd way.

"taking me so well, fuck," he groaned out, and the way you gripped at his shoulder tighter in response made him chuckle. you liked when he praised you.

each breath was practically a gulp down for air as you felt your orgasm approaching, the familiar tightness clutching at your stomach, your hips rocking slightly in a desperate effort to reach it sooner, the repeated feeling of his cock hitting your cervix enough to leave you tongue-tied and stupid, arthur's concentration almost admirable, in a complete rut as each thrust felt only growing rougher by the second.

"i know you're close, baby," came from under his breath as he straightened himself up slightly, stopping supporting himself and instead using the other hand to grasp at your thigh, allowing him to thrust into you quicker, the increased pace making him look almost drunk, the new harshness practically pushing you over the edge, each touch at the bundle of nerves weakening you.

"fuck, arthur, 'm gonna..." you babbled out, the intense sensation washing over you, thighs shaking around his hips, as frenzied whines were torn from your throat, your lower body going limp as the familiar knot snapped, euphoria dizzying any thoughts in your head, the orgasm only being rode out as he continued to jerk into you.

"i'm so close, baby, god, you look so pretty when you come, i-" he moaned out as you felt him release, the look on his face showing pure light-headed intoxication, cum painting your insides as the room went quiet for a moment, besides the loud pants from both of you as he gently pulled himself out of you.

"'m sorry, was i too rough?" he spoke out between catching breaths, his fingers quickly carding through your hair in an apologetic manner.

"no, no. was perfect." you murmured out, body completely taken over and exhausted as you lifted your head a little to look at him, eyes lidded and sleepy.

"you look tired," he grinned slightly, taking in the view: you, bare before him, completely ruined by him, and all for him to see. "i must have done a good job if i've worn you out."

"mhm. sorry, i get like this sometimes, always so sleepy after sex," you mumbled, made slightly shy again, cheeks still flush from before.

"s'okay, it's cute." he said back, before standing himself up, pulling on just his boxers, "gonna go get you some clean clothes, something to wipe you up with and some water, okay lovie?" he said gently, and you nodded with a dumb, happy smile on your face.

"arthur?" you said softly, and he stopped at your doorway with a similarly dopey smile.

"uh huh?" he replied, and as you looked at him, hair all a mess and in just his boxers, caringly going to make sure you had everything you needed.

"does this mean i get to be your girlfriend?" you said shyly, and arthur could have sworn his heart melted right there.

[appleblueberry-pie]

Yandere Suguru Headcanons

Suguru was attached to you. I hate feeling like i have to describe in large amounts of text to prove the point, but i can't seem to push that narrative at this moment. There is no way to beat around the bush and explain. He is just extremely attached.

He talks to Satoru about you way too much. Satoru the big fat motor mouth wants to close his ears when Suguru opens his mouth because he knows that the only words that his lips will fix to say are praises about you as if you were an angel from the heavens.

And that's all you were to Suguru. You were strong, you had a personality that suffocated him when you got close and lingered when you left. You never seemed to let him prove himself to you. As if you wanted to prove that you didn't need to be his friend to satiate your desires. He felt like an option to you. And that's probably what he was.

He crushed on you when he was happy. He tried to crawl to you when he was lost and his mind was tearing him apart. And he worshipped you when he changed his ways.

Suguru seemed to only see you, you were his only beacon of hope when he was at his lowest. His body felt sick every day from the constant feeling of needing to change something, but you always stayed present in his heart. He went to you for an escape so much, he didn't even care how you felt about him, he just wanted you.

The only thing he remembers when he was depressed were the moments that you came by to try and take care of him.

When you brought him food, when you ran your fingers through his oily hair once and offered to brush it. When you lightly pressed your thumb under his eyes to feel the eye bags that currently weighed his face down. He never looked bad, in your opinion. But every single time he was around you, it seemed as if he.....was too attached to you in some way. Not even in the way he's attached to Satoru.

One night, a night that shouldn't have been shared with him, you two had a sleep over. He offered for you to spend the night at his place. He said he cleaned it up as much as he could, and he did the same with himself. You had a few drinks and already attempted to drown your sorrows from the traumatic work you put yourself through every week. You assumed this would be a great moment for you to let go with a friend of yours and agreed.

You didn't think you'd end up with his tongue in your mouth. With him whimpering constant pleas to you with glossy eyes while grinding his hot bulge into your palm. The constant friction from his sweats made your hand heat up and you continued to stare down at his desperate face.

You two were on his bed, his blinds closed and the video playing on his laptop forgotten on the ground. You began kissing him again and he passionately pushes back into your kiss. Messy and uncoordinated, maybe you shouldn't have drank anything before this. Your lips trail down his neck and he throws his head back.

Your hand slips past his waistband and you feel for his hard leaking cock. He lets out a higher-pitched moan and you lower his sweats to jerk him off slowly. Suguru thrusts in your hands, unable to speak any words besides please and your name.

He never thought he'd be able to experience this moment. When the woman he loves is in his bed and giving him pleasure he never felt before. He used to try so desperately to push down his obsession for you, but it felt like all of his emotions were on one hundred when you first told him you wanted to take things further.

He felt so light when you were this close. His mind felt so free. He needed to be yours and for you to be his. He wanted you for as long as you lived and never wanted to let you go. His savior.

He gasps for air and moans shamelessly as spurts of his cum hits his t-shirt. A tear of shame and happiness rolls down one of his cheeks and he tries to savor every moment of this.

He hears your smooth voice begin to praise him and he leans in closer to you, leaning his head on your shoulder.

It took you a few seconds to realize what you had done and blinked, realizing his spend was on your hands and you just gave one of your extremely depressed classmates a hand job. You look down at his blissful face and immediately regret the actions you had done.

Suguru was soaking in every second he could breathe in your scent and feel your heat radiate onto his skin. He felt so happy. So if you two shared such an intimate and loving moment with each other, why did he feel you pulling away from him? He opened his eyes and sees you staring down at him with a look he's always hated growing up. Guilt.

".......I'm sorry." You shake your head and sit up, making him sit up. No, this wasn't what he wanted. He knew what those words meant. He felt fear overtake him and searched your eyes for the answer for why you suddenly decided to distance yourself. "What?" An awkward smile wobbled onto your lips. "I shouldn't have done that to you." You feel as if your confessing one of your sins out loud, as if you committed a crime on someone you loved dearly. You never wanted to take out your stress on a friend who clearly deserved more than a quick fuck. Never wanted him to think you wanted to be with him.

"....I don't understand. You didn't want to...? But I thought you wanted me like how I wanted you?" He saw your face drop and you averted your gaze before standing up. "I should go."

You turned your back to him and that was the last he saw of you in the next 10 years.

You avoided him like the plague. It pained his young heart dearly that the love of his life, his friend, and soon to be lover grew so distant with him. It didn't help for the rest of his transformation when he changed his ways entirely. But unfortunately for you, his heartbreak bloomed into something more painful, yet naturally beautiful in his heart. There wasn't a single day he didn't think of you. He knew he had to become better. Where he stood in the jujutsu world in that moment was nothing but a sleaze and a hopeless little seed. He sprouted for his world to see, pollen covering his petals as he began his plan of making a world of only sorcerers.

He knew that this would make you proud. He wanted to be stronger than you to protect you, to be your savior and lover. Maybe when he proves himself to you, you will run into his arms like he had done before. You were his drive that contracted his heart to pump more blood through his body. You straightened his spine and fed his brain the food it needed to stay stimulated. You were the protein in his muscles and sounds that were produced in his throat to help him speak. You were everything that made him. You made him.

It felt so true in his heart and mind, he knew he had to see you one way or another. And he loved seeking, especially if you were the one he'd find.

[lost-and-ephemeral]

lnds x reader where the boys and reader are in an argument like bringing their insecurities up and says something extremely hurtful that made mc cry and distant themselves and the boys regret it so much? 💓

HCs: Hurtful Words (ft. main trio)

Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader, (seperate)

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort (in the end), maybe guys acting too OOC

A/N: I didn't want to make boys too OOC, so maybe it isn't exactly what you wanted, but I tried to follow your request ♡

-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´- 

Xavier

On one of your last missions, you were too reckless and almost end up dying because of it.

Xavier almost lost you again, and the thought just drove him crazy.

He was worried and pretty angry since it wasn't the first time you were playing with fire.

When he showed up on the doorstep of your hospital room, Xavier was very distressed. Even your reassuring smile made no impression on him.

He still remembered how you died in his arms in the past.

So he snapped.

Not because he really wanted to offend you. No. But because his anxiety had turned into a furious stream of thoughts.

He was harshly talking about how reckless you are. About how you're not all-powerful or immortal, yet you never think about the consequences. About how stupid you're being, putting yourself in danger by jumping into a group of enemies.

Xavier, normally mild and calm, was acting so different now.

And you, being injured and bedridden, hardly wanted to see this exact reaction from him.

His words made you feel like a burden.

And when there was no trace of anger left, he suddenly fell silent, looking at the way your eyes were slowly filling up with tears.

Oh, no. He didn't mean it.

He really didn't mean it.

"Leave my room," you choked out, feeling deeply hurt by his words.

Even if he wanted to stay, it wasn't the best idea.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to hurt you."

But you were wounded too deeply by his harsh words, so you immediately distanced yourself from him, chasing him away.

Stupid? Reckless? Did he really see you like that?

Of course not...

Every minute of his existence Xavier was regretting the fact the snapped at you like this. He was supposed to support you after a serious injury, not make you hurt even more.

And the distance between the two of you made it worse.

Happy ending bonus:

This poor guy only lasted a day before he came back to see you in the hospital with a bouquet of flowers.

It was physically hard to stay away from you for so long, especially since Xavier has already spend years searching for you. And ruining everything by this stupid argument wasn't something he wished for.

He was apologizing for everything he said until you softened and let him stay.

Because you, too, were missing his presence.

"I'll never let anger get control over me again. I swear. Please, just... Get better soon."

Rafayel

Every now and then you and Rafayel would get into a playful argument, but now it was serious.

You just totally forgot about meeting with him at his studio and went to the mall with Tara.

Your busy schedule had jumbled up all the plans and days of the week in your head. And you ended up remembering your promise only a few hours later.

The fact that your phone was muted and you had hundreds of missed messages from Rafayel only made you feel more guilty.

So you tried to get to his studio as soon as possible while calling him. But he didn't answer.

Once you got there, you ran into a really pissed off Rafayel.

Yes, he was pouting at you from time to time.

But now the artist was more than angry.

You knew he was very sensitive when you suddenly disappeared without warning, so you immediately tried to make it up to him.

But it didn't really work.

"How could you forget about me?! You promised!"

Unexpectedly, Rafayel let himself snap at you.

He was so frustrated about the fact you forgot about him that he had no control over what he said.

He talked and talked. About not being able to trust you with your promises. About how he was tired of worrying about you when you suddenly disappear without a word. About how he was tired of waiting for you, thinking you decided to leave him, making him feel like a fish out of water.

And hearing about you being such an unreliable and bad person was truly painful.

His anger eventually led to you storming out of his studio in tears, not wanting to hear any more accusations against you.

You didn't cheat on him, didn't do anything wrong. That's why this sudden aggression from him made you so upset.

And only while standing alone in his studio Rafayel realized that he had made things worse. He didn't want you to leave him, yet this is exactly what happened.

He tried calling you, texting you. But all he got was silence.

Bonus happy ending:

After a few days the silence between you two became unbearable. He felt like he was in agony.

When you heard the doorbell ring in the evening, you didn't expect to see Rafayel looking like a wet, sad puppy. It seemed that he had been caught in the rain and had come to see you anyway.

He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other before finally lifting his gaze to look at you.

"I'm sorry. I acted like a total jerk. Please, I can't exist in isolation anymore, not being able to hear your voice or see you. You can even scold me till the end of time if you want, just don't leave me."

You missed him as much as he missed you. So you let him in.

Zayne

Sometimes Zayne was incredibly tired at work. Not just physically, but mentally.

At this time, he wanted more than anything to just rest and forget about all important matters. If such a thing was even allowed for a surgeon as busy as he was.

Maybe he'd be able to do it even more often if he didn't have to occasionally wait for you to show up for an appointment.

Especially since periodically you completely forgot about them. And in the worst cases, you were not only late, but didn't show up at all.

Usually, he would just lightly scold you, which didn't cause any problems. After all, it was Zayne's way to show that he cared about you.

But today was a particularly hard day at work.

So when you walked into his medical office, Zayne was sitting at his desk, massaging the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

And your excessive cheerfulness at that moment didn't make the situation any better. You sat down across from him with a smile. But he only shook his head, tired and disappointed.

"You forgot about your appointment again and decided to reschedule it for tonight?"

You smiled awkwardly, but didn't have time to say anything.

Oh, how annoyed he was, scolding you for how negligent you were about your health, ignoring all of his recommendations. He said that sometimes he felt like you are his personal headache. Except he couldn't get rid of you.

And he was too tired to notice how quickly the smile disappeared from your face, giving way to tears.

Before he could say anything, you threw the stack of papers with your test results on his desk, almost running out of his office.

The situation had gone far beyond what was acceptable, but Zayne realized it too late.

He tried to call you and even drove to your place right after his shift ended, but he was left standing in front of the closed door.

Maybe it would've been better to just let you cool off.

But with your silence, a devastating feeling settled in Zayne's heart. He was so, so sorry.

Bonus happy ending:

After a couple days of agonizing silence, he wanted nothing more than to see you. He managed to catch you before you went into your apartment.

You avoided his gaze, but you didn't leave, giving him time.

"I'm sorry. You're not a headache. I was having an awfully rough day at the time, so I snapped. It won't happen again."

Now you could clearly see the remorse in his eyes. You missed him so much and just couldn't push him away again.

After all, everyone can have an argument. The main thing is to be able to deal with the situation correctly.

[cheenapri]

Transactional [Yandere Illumi Zoldyck x Reader]

Day ???

Summary: Illumi wants to get reacquainted with you after you escaped from him

Word Count: 3.9k

AN: Can we pretend it didn't take me half a year to finish this pls. This is also the last installment for Transactional, anything I write for Illumi in the future will be unrelated

Notes: yandere, kidnapping, gender neutral reader, unhealthy relationships, unbalanced power dynamics, mentions of past abuse, Illumi is not very nice, reader gets strangled

Day One Day Two + Three Day Four + Five

The cool night air felt nice against your skin. You take a deep breath, looking down at your feet as you continue walking. The song of the crickets was barely audible against the sound of honking cars and other city noises. You pull your jacket tighter against yourself to ease the faint anxiety that always ate away at you. 

You were returning to the motel you currently stayed at after finishing your last shift at your part-time job. Your job was nondescript, just like your disguise; an under-the-table job at a diner. It was perfect for a runaway such as you as it didn’t require IDs and paid in cash. You were offered the job by a sweet older woman you’d become friends with, her kindness extended as she had also given you a phone free of charge. It was an old model, but you were ecstatic nonetheless.

You felt stable as a pattern in your daily life began to form without unbearable dread scaring you into hopping onto the next bus and fleeing to another city. You hadn’t thought about his name quite as much but it never truly left your mind. The anxiety coupled with expectations of his long, sharp claws snatching you away at any moment slowly dissipated each time it failed to happen. 

You have learned to live again.

You were no longer going hungry for days at a time, stealing food and water just to evade starvation. You were no longer forced to sleep outside if you even could sleep, worried you were too exposed and he’d come to scoop you up in any minute. You no longer had to wear the same clothes for days on end, the rainwater being the only thing rinsing them and making them somewhat clean again.

Finding a serious buyer for the wedding ring he had given you was awfully difficult, from scammers who lied and told you it was a fake ring to almost getting robbed a few times. It was a good thing he told you how much it was worth that one time, casually spilling that he had spent one-hundred fifty-five million yen on it. As much as you wanted all of that cash, you had to settle with one million as you were becoming desperate and needed the funds to take care of yourself. 

After you were able to secure the money, you immediately got yourself a cheap motel room, some food, and some new clothes, using the rest of it to fund your travels. You never stayed at motels for long, making sure to stay on the road and get as far away from that evil man as you could. You honestly thought your escape would be fruitless, that he’d find and kill you almost immediately, but as days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, you wondered if he was even looking for you. Sure, you had drastically changed your appearance, but you were certain he wouldn’t need to look so hard to know it was you. 

To this day, you still wonder if you actually escaped or if he had willingly let you go. 

After weeks of begging and feigning passionate favors, you found yourself on yet another date with him — your last date with him. He had taken it upon himself to take you out whenever he felt you’d earned it, the requirements for earning it always seeming to change based on his mood. 

You felt like some kind of stress reliever, maybe that’s why he kept you around.

At least he hadn’t hurt you in a long while, or rather “disciplined” as he liked to call it. It was probably because you weren’t challenging his delusions anymore, allowing him to convince himself and others that you two were a normal, happy couple. He even began to trust you a bit, initially allowing you time out in the garden under Shiori’s supervision before allowing you to explore freely.

His family had warmed up to you as he’d said. Not in the sense that you all hung out and drank tea together, but rather in the sense that they either ignored you or treated you like you were a pet. They rarely ever refer to you by name if at all. Kikyo especially as she took it upon herself to “teach” you how to better serve her son. Her teachings were always mentally draining.

Kalluto was the most bearable Zoldyck. He wasn’t intimidating, overwhelmingly at least, he never said a word, and he never made any effort to hurt you. He only seemed curious at your existence, like you were some brand new undiscovered species. As long as he kept his distance when watching you, you had no issues with him.

Silva seemed to view you as a spectacle but never looked at you for more than a few seconds, Zeno even less. That was a guess, however, as you were too afraid to look either of them in the eye. They were aware of that and seemed to respect you since they avoided you as much as you avoided them, even if it was more so to preserve their eminence.

You hadn’t seen Milluki since the dinner, only hearing news of him from eavesdropping, and you thankfully hadn��t been forced to go back to the Zoldyck mansion for another agonizing family meal either. Shiori wasn’t as active in her role as your assigned butler, but your captor had been in his role as your “husband”. You got that skylight you wanted though it was at the price of your dignity. 

You shake your head before rubbing your temples, not wanting to let your mind wander to something that was long in the past. Picking your head back up, your speed quickens, carrying you inside the near-empty motel lobby and into the elevator. 

Your phone buzzes.

You fumble around in your pocket for it, pulling it out and tapping the message notification from your boss. It read: 

“I appreciate your hard work today. Your paycheck should come in tomorrow.”

The elevator shudders as it ascends, but your eyes remain fixed on your phone’s screen, the three little dots implying she had something more to say. 

“I know we haven’t known each other long, but I want you to know that I’m here if you ever need anything or need to talk to someone.”

You had never told anyone you’d stumbled across the truth about your situation, afraid they’d be endangered if that man found out about it. You didn’t need to, however, as your anxieties were written on your face clear as day despite your best efforts. 

You clutch the phone in your hands. This was all so unfair. You hold the very object that would allow you to communicate with your family, to call for help, but you’re unable to do so, his past threats towards your family a constant reminder every time you thought about calling them. 

You refuse to put anyone else in danger. 

The elevator dings as its doors open, revealing a dimly lit corridor before you. You slowly begin walking, your phone still open on your boss’ text message as you’re unsure of what to say. You desperately want someone to confide in, someone to tell your traumatizing story to, but you won’t do it at the cost of their life. Your thumb squeezes the power button, shutting the phone off and leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

As you reach the corner you must turn down to get to your room, you stop. It’s eerily silent. Your head hurts. You feel sick. 

Your phone buzzes again, echoing within the empty halls. 

“Maybe we can sit down and chat before you leave tomorrow if you’re comfortable?”

You continue and turn the corner, looking down at the text before turning the phone off once again and slipping it into your pocket, chalking up your sudden nausea to your recent thoughts about him.

You stop. Your room is at the end of the hall, you stand mere feet away from completing your recent daily routine and yet you’re unable to get yourself to move like you had many times before. 

It was simple: wake up, go to work, go “home”, go to sleep, rinse, repeat. However, your daily pattern never featured a strange man standing still as a statue right by your motel room door.

Your expression is almost as blank as his, you’re unable to react. You stare at him as he does at you, neither of you saying a word. His jaw ever so slightly clenched, his pointer finger twitching, his eyes unblinking. 

This headache will kill you before he does.

“Hey,” he greets, his voice an unfortunate familiarity. His tone is calm as always. Slowly, he inspects you from his spot, not commenting on your failure to greet him as he had “taught” you while he takes in your disguise. He hums to himself, quiet yet audible enough for you to hear. “I’m not a fan of the new look.”

His words were blunt, his eyes meeting your gaze once more. “You disappeared for a while.” He pauses momentarily and allows the tension to build as his stare remains fixated on you. “I thought someone else had gotten to you first.”

He wasn’t supposed to be here. Your mouth feels dry yet you swallow hard, the reality of the situation fully sinking in as you’re face-to-face with the one person you never wanted to see again: Illumi Zoldyck.

He’s angry, he has to be.

He was interfering with your plans. You were supposed to pack up and leave the motel tomorrow in search of another hiding spot to avoid this very event. How did he even find you after all this time? Your mind races as you think of all the possibilities. You know you didn’t leave any traces because you couldn’t leave any, all products were purchased in cash or discretely stolen, your face covered and head low at all times, and you never stayed in one spot for too long until recently. Maybe you’d gotten too comfortable? Unable to think logically, you slowly put your hands up in a defensive position, your body shifting as you take a step back.

“Don’t move.” He reaches out toward you — the space suddenly feels colder. Your body freezes as instructed despite the possibility of your freedom or even your life coming to an end. “You’ve run enough. Come here.”

You stay still, afraid to move let alone bridge the gap between the two of you. Illumi is static, still standing in his position with his arm outstretched to you. You’re like a deer in headlights, your face expressing nothing but pure terror to the man before you. Maybe you’ll turn invisible if you remain still enough…

“I won’t be so forgiving if I have to come to you,” Illumi threatens, a slight frown on his face.

What’s the difference if he’s going to torture and kill you either way? Wouldn’t it be better for him to be rough so you could die faster?

“Come here,” Illumi repeats once more, a much more commanding tone in his voice. You were in no position to test his patience. 

Tears begin stinging your eyes as reality sinks in even further, your heart burying itself into your stomach. With shaky legs, you take a slow step toward him. Your eyes dart from door to door hoping that if you stalled long enough, someone would come out and discover the two of you. Normally you wouldn’t wish anyone the misfortune of stumbling across Illumi, but your morals seem to dissipate now that you are being confronted. 

Illumi remains silent as you cautiously approach him, your eyes wide and your steps hesitant. Your fear grows stronger the closer you get to him. You flinch when he lowers his arm, your mind convinced that every movement he made was malicious. 

“You’ve been very busy, haven’t you?” Illumi asks sarcastically, the sarcasm in his voice is barely noticeable and the question almost seems legit. “You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, though that was your plan from the beginning.” 

He holds his hand out to you, the unspoken command for you to take it obvious. You hesitate, however, as past incidents of him crushing your hand as punishment resurface in your mind.  He’ll start by breaking your hands before breaking your legs and then finally breaking your neck, leaving you crumpled and gasping for air in the motel’s hallway. 

For a long moment, you didn’t move. “Give me your hand.” Illumi verbalized his command as his patience was running out. 

You’re visibly shaking, the tears in your eyes now overflowing. Slowly, you bring your trembling hand forth, cringing a few times as you envision yourself putting it in the mouth of a metal shredder. With your fate unavoidable, you place your hand in his, eyes shut tightly and head lowered as you mentally prepare for what’s to come. 

Silently, he takes hold of it with his other hand, pulling you closer to him. Illumi took note of your every reaction. The recoiling at his sudden movements, the shivering when his hand rubbed against yours, and, of course, your blatant anticipation of what he’ll do next.

His eyes move from your face to your fingers — narrowing slightly as the object he was looking for seems to be missing. He underestimated just how reckless you were, though the thought of you doing what he secretly dreaded was always possible.

He’s quiet, attention focused on your ring finger as if trying to manifest the symbol of your bond with him out of thin air. His anger was palpable. 

“Hm… you sold it,” he states, tone flat and expression unreadable. “How much?”

Your hand trembles, his itching to squeeze with intent to crush. You grumble your answer, voice timid as your eyes look off to the side. Before you could even react, his hand springs forth and grabs your jaw in a vice-like grip — his hold is dangerously close to your neck. Illumi forces your head up, his gaze meeting yours. 

He doesn’t say anything, only holding you in this unfortunate position. You let out a deep breath through your nose, your eyes shutting as you repeat yourself in a louder tone, “O-One million yen.”

Illumi abruptly releases his hold as if disgusted with you, his actions a stark contrast to your prediction of him immediately ripping your head off. He mentally repeats the number, his internal resentment battling over which to be more furious over: you being stupid enough to sell your binding to him, especially for such a low amount, and then using the cash to run away from him, or you being stupid enough to even think about selling your binding to him at all?

Ultimately, he chose both. 

Quietly, Illumi reaches into his pocket, eyes still trained on you as he retrieves the motel’s master key. He then turns to swiftly unlock your room’s door, stepping back and gesturing for you to head inside.

You don’t move, and the itch to run becomes more tempting. Seeing your hesitation, Illumi takes it upon himself to guide you inside, placing a hand on your lower back and practically shoving you into the room. Once the both of you are inside, he shuts and locks the door behind him with clear finality, watching as you back away and clumsily stumble onto the bed.

He doesn’t turn the lights on, the only light being from the moon’s glow through the window. He steadily moves toward you before stopping just shy of the window, the moonlight partially illuminating his features. He seemed less controlled, almost giving you a death stare in his own way. 

“Go on,” he says, a noticeable edge to his voice. His request was open-ended, its implication meaning anything. He wanted to see just how stupid you were. 

You scratch your head and think of thousands of ways to die at that very moment. If you’d gotten a gun from a shady seller, you could’ve made your unplanned interaction with Illumi short and messy — if you were even able to grab it. Maybe if you piss him off enough he’d deem you unworthy and side with his inner instincts, wasting no more time and snuffing the life out of you efficiently.

“You’re…” you start, ”You’re suffocating me. I just want to live.” Your arms wrap around you as you seek comfort in this unfortunate predicament. 

Illumi takes his time processing your weak excuse, the weight of his scrutiny becoming more and more unbearable with each passing second. He tilts his head, “You think you can live without me?”

“I can and I did for several months!” Your voice no longer felt weak. You shut your eyes as your deep-seated disdain for him builds even further within you — your mind no longer concerned about the possible repercussions. What more did you have to lose anyway?

“You weren’t living, you were surviving.” Illumi straightens his head. He allows time for his words to sink in as he takes in the sight of you again, his eyes flicking over your cheap hoodie, worn-out shoes, and tired, yet angry eyes. “The streets hadn’t been very good to you, I see.” His eyes move to make contact with yours. “You look a mess.”

“You’ve made me look worse!” You grit your teeth. Without thinking, all your pent-up anger was released at that very moment — the worst moment. “You’ve taken everything from me and you treat me like shit! You don’t know what love is! You’re horrible and I hate you!”

At that, he moved. The air around you shifted — a menacing, yet familiar energy you realized you hadn’t felt until now. You’ve provoked him, that much evident from the visible frown on his face and a slight furrowing of his brow.

“You talk too much.” He closes the distance between you and shoves you down onto the bed. Your breath hitches, your hands up defensively as you prepare to fight a battle you know you won’t win. 

His movements are deliberately slow as if the anticipation was intended to be its own form of punishment. You go to move backward, to relieve yourself — even momentarily — of his overwhelming presence, but he pushes you down again. The bed dips under his weight, his hands moving ever so slowly towards your neck. Knowing this wasn’t a bluff, you grab his wrists and try in vain to push them away.

You’re too weak. 

“You’re in no position to speak to me in such a manner. Here, I’ll show you.” His hands grip your neck with immense pressure, causing you to gasp and claw at his wrists. 

Illumi remains reasonably calm, externally at least, as he watches you struggle beneath him. “(Name),” he says. His grip loosened completely which allowed you to breathe. You continued coughing as you took in deep breaths but your sense of relief was quickly snatched away as his hands squeezed again. “(Name),” he calls again.

An overwhelming sense of dread embodies you as you realize that he is actually going to kill you. You’re unable to deny your survival instincts forcing you to fight back despite a smaller part of you reasoning that this was the happy ending you so desperately wanted. 

Illumi’s grip loosens once more, his gaze softens watching you spring back to life and greedily suck in oxygen. He relished in the control he lacked over you for so long. He wants something from you and you know that.

“I’m… sorry!” you manage to force out between breaths. You’re crying hysterically now, apologizing again and again as you don’t wish for your final moments to be as humiliating as this. 

“For what? What did you do this time, (Name)?” Illumi asks calmly, his fingers digging into your neck the more you try to pry them off. 

You hesitate despite the situation. You’re not sorry. You’re not sorry for a damn thing. Your lungs are burning though so you have no choice. “I’m… sorry for… run-running away…”

Illumi hums, his black eyes boring into you. “Running away wasn’t your only offense. What else have you done?”

Your head is spinning though you’re still able to breathe somewhat. You tap his wrist, a pathetic admittance of defeat. He doesn’t let go though.

“Please… get off me,” you beg. He ignores your pleas and keeps you pinned beneath him, his thumbs ready to press down on your windpipe at any given moment.

“You haven’t admitted all your wrongdoings. You haven’t fully apologized,” he states flatly. 

“I don’t-“ 

You’re cut off as he crushes your throat, his eyes narrowing. “You do.”

You’re beginning to panic again. You’re unable to rack your brain for whatever thing you’d done to warrant such an assault. 

Illumi could feel your pulse quickening. The temptation to squeeze just a bit more until it slows to a halt is overwhelming. He’s had you at his mercy before, but he had never thought of actually going through with it. His eyes are glued to you, taking in the drooping of your eyelids, the paleness of your skin, and how your body is relaxing. Even now as you’re being rightfully punished for daring to betray him, you still manage to humanize him – forcing him to feel something he was taught to suppress. 

He hated it. 

But he hated the way he hesitated even more.

Illumi releases your throat, and you spring back to life. You have no tears left to cry, only coughs and hoarse sobs as you replenish your oxygen. It was clear to Illumi that you were simply too stupid and stubborn to be sorry, and that it would be a waste of time to continue forcing disingenuous apologies out of you. 

That’s okay. You’ll come around. 

He slides off of you and fixes his clothes as if nothing had even happened. His calm, blank expression slipped back into place as he took in your small motel room. “This is what you’ve run to.” His voice carries a hint of mockery.

There was a lack of concern for your struggling figure on the bed, only disapproval as if you were acting. Your throat ached, and your head spun. Why were you still here?

“You’ve proven you are incapable of handling any ounce of freedom given to you. You cannot be trusted to make decisions on your own. You don’t know what’s good for you… that’s why you need me.”

He returns to the bed, standing over you once more. “Get up,” he says, “it’s time to go.”

Though you knew it was coming since death failed to, your heart sank at the thought of stepping foot in that wretched place once again. You let out a strangled sob, your limbs quaking as you force yourself up. 

“We have a lot of catching up to do, (Name).” Illumi places a not-so-comforting hand on your shoulder. “We have to ensure this incident won’t happen again.”

His subtle threat confirmed the plans he had in store for you. Your body refused to move as the realization that you were back at square one sunk in, but you forced yourself onto your wobbly legs as you were only delaying what was clearly inevitable. 

He wouldn’t forgive you – you knew that – and the treatment you’d receive would be much, much worse. 

[shadowtriovibes]

the train ain't even left the station

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: G

Word Count: 2K

Summary: request: "If you're up for it I'd love to see a small lil fic of Sebastian sending his child off to Hogwarts for the very first time! Like maybe Sebastian is telling them about his adventures with Ominis and MC to make the child less nervous or just letting them know how exciting things will be for them :)"

in the same 'verse as "it's a sign of the times" [AO3]

Sebastian sets her down and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Not too good, alright? It’s worth breaking a few rules every now and then to make a friend, or do what’s right.” “Like how you met Uncle Ominis and he showed you the Undercroft?” she says eagerly. A few feet away, you look up sharply from where you’re hugging Simon goodbye. “Did she just say ‘Undercroft?’” “No,” Sebastian and Anne-Marie say in unison.

September 1, 1910

Suspended overhead in the bustling terminal of King’s Cross Station is a massive clock. Every morning, hundreds of thousands of Londoners – both Muggles and wizards alike, though more often the former – pass underneath the clock as they hurry to catch their trains. Many will casually glance up to ensure they’re still on time as they make their way to work, school, or even the lucky few off on holiday.

As it happens, the first day of September brings countless students to the station on their way to boarding schools all over the U.K., meaning the station stays especially crowded well into the late morning. Worried mums and impatient dads all turn their eyes toward that clock, hoping their sprogs won’t be left on the platform on their very first day of school.

Just as the minute hand slides into place at the very bottom of the clock, a handsome young family emerges from a tiny waiting room positioned at the far end of the terminal.

Hundreds of Muggle men in their funny, black suits and odd little bowler hats have already walked right past the waiting room without sparing it a second glance. In fact, had any of them paused to do so, they would have read a small sign affixed to the door that simply read, “Out of Order.”

But inside that waiting room is a grand fireplace. Not just any fireplace, mind you – one that roared brilliantly twenty-four hours a day, never needs stoking, and, perhaps most importantly, spews out bright green flames.

Sebastian Sallow first exits the waiting room with a precarious cart loaded up with trunks, birdcages, and even some broomsticks of all things. If the Muggles passing by thought anything of the man’s rather odd collection of travel items, no one said a word.

He glances up at the clock and grins.

“Ten thirty,” he says confidently over his shoulder. “See? I told you we wouldn’t be late.”

Beside him is his young wife. Their smallest child, a boy just a few months shy of his fifth birthday, is dozing in her arms. Behind them are their oldest children, a pair of twins, chatting excitedly as they follow their parents toward the barricade between platforms nine and ten.

“Doesn’t it seem a bit redundant to Floo all the way down to London just to put the children on a train back to Scotland?” Sebastian mumbles as your family weaves its way through the flowing crowds.

“Perhaps, but all the children love riding the train,” you remind him fondly. “It’s a Hogwarts tradition, especially for the little ones.”

Having never had the chance to take the Hogwarts Express yourself, you find yourself mildly envious of your eldest children, both of whom will soon be taking their very first journey on the school’s scarlet red steamer train.

“Besides,” you add teasingly. “If I recall, you and Anne met Ominis on your first train ride to Hogwarts, correct?”

“Fine, I suppose you’ve got me there,” Sebastian relents with a soft smile. “I rather think this whole journey will have been worth it if the twins happen to make lifelong friends who save their lives several times over.”

“Do we have to?” your son Simon pipes up, sounding wary. “Because I packed a book I wanted to read.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow at you and gives you a look that reads, He is your son through and through.

“Trying to prove you’re a Ravenclaw already, are you?” Sebastian teases him. “Just like your mum, you are.”

“I’m going to be a Slytherin like you, Daddy!” your daughter Anne-Marie chimes in proudly. “Even Auntie Anne said so!”

You and Sebastian exchange a fond, albeit exasperated look. Ever since Anne (and eventually Sebastian) had accepted the life-limiting curse placed upon her by Rookwood, she’d instead focused on honing types of magic that don’t drain her of her energy or cause her any more pain. She’d found comfort in Divination and has grown into a very powerful Seer, though she often uses her gift to rile up your children with premonitions of being spoiled rotten on their birthday or soundly beating the other village children in their broomstick races.

However, predicting that your mischievous little girl will end up in Slytherin is a fairly safe bet, you imagine.

“I won’t be the least bit surprised if that’s true,” Sebastian says warmly. “But just know your mother and I will love you all the same no matter which house you end up in.”

“Even Hufflepuff?” Simon asks nervously. “Ernest from the village says Hufflepuffs are boring.”

“Don’t forget your Auntie Poppy is a Hufflepuff,” you tease him. “She’s anything but boring!”

That seems to cheer Simon up a bit, but your sweet, slightly shy boy falls back beside you as you get closer to the platform barricade.

“Alright, my love?” you ask him softly.

He reaches for your free hand and squirms up tightly against your side. “It’s really big…”

You size up the high brick archway before you. To the naked eye, it appears as solid as rock, and despite Sebastian’s reassurances that it’s perfectly safe to run straight at it, you imagine you’d be intimidated as well if you were only eleven years old.

“Don’t worry, darling,” you reassure him. “Your father and I will come with you to the platform, you won’t have to go through alone.”

He nods wordlessly and you squeeze his hand. Ever her father’s girl, Anne-Marie takes Sebastian’s arm and the two of them push the wobbly luggage cart straight at the archway, and in the blink of an eye, they’ve vanished.

“See?” you murmur to Simon. “Not so scary, is it?”

With your youngest still propped against your hip, you and Simon walk toward the barricade at a slower pace. You glance around to make sure no Muggles are watching as you slip through the magical brick facade, and then in the blink of an eye you’re on a pack platform surrounded by wizarding families and children in bright, colorful robes.

“Over here!” Sebastian calls out, and you see that he’s pulled the cart right up to the train.

“Help each other with your trunks, just like that,” Sebastian says as Simon and Anne-Marie first carry the trunk marked with an “S.S.” aboard the carriage and then return for the other marked with an “A.M.S.”

Then they carry in their owls – both young tawny birds raised from hatchlings, a gift from their Aunt Poppy. Finally, they return for their brooms, which Sebastian knows for a fact they ought not to have as first years, but he hopes he can talk Headmaster Weasley into looking the other way once they arrive with the intent of trying out for their house Quidditch teams.

(Raising your children in a wizarding village had been quite an eye-opening experience for you. Your twins have been on broomsticks since they could walk, and over the years their godfather Ominis has insisted on making sure they always have the latest model – one for each, so they won’t squabble over sharing.)

You pull Anne-Marie in for a tight hug once the children finish unloading their cart.

“You’ve got everything you need?” you ask her, pretending your voice hasn’t gone thick with tears. “I’ve packed you both some sweets for the ride, remember to share with your new friends, and write to us as soon as you get back to your dormitories please–”

“Yes, Mum,” she says, somewhat impatiently. “We promise we will.”

Anne-Marie kisses her littlest brother goodbye on his chubby cheek, fondly brushing back some of those messy brown curls your husband had given him.

“Why don’t you let your father give you a hug goodbye, sweetheart?” you gently prompt her.

You expect you’re the only one who’s noticed that Sebastian’s eyes have gotten a bit wet as he’d watched his children load up their belongings on the train. Even though he’d likely try to deny it if you prodded him, he sincerely looks like he could use a hug.

As soon as Anne-Marie approaches him with her arms out, Sebastian scoops her up against his chest like he’d often done when she was much smaller – only now her legs nearly touch the floor, and soon he’ll only be able to sway her like this with her feet firmly planted on the ground.

“Have a great term, sweetheart,” he tells her softly. “I can’t wait to hear all about it – even the parts that’ll exasperate your mother.”

“I promise I’ll be good,” she says ruefully.

Sebastian sets her down and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Not too good, alright? It’s worth breaking a few rules every now and then to make a friend, or do what’s right.”

“Like how you met Uncle Ominis and he showed you the Undercroft?” she says eagerly.

A few feet away, you look up sharply from where you’re hugging Simon goodbye. “Did she just say ‘Undercroft?’”

“No,” Sebastian and Anne-Marie say in unison.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously and decide to leave it be for now, but as soon as you turn away, Sebastian leans down and whispers, “Write to Uncle Ominis and ask him where to find it. It’s a Sallow’s rite of passage.”

“I will,” she says excitedly. “And I’ll bring Simon.”

“Good girl,” he says proudly.

Anne-Marie manages to free Simon from your weepy grasp so that Sebastian can also pull him in for one last hug, reassuring his son he’ll be proud of him no matter which house he eventually calls home. Then the two link arms as they make their way toward the train, climbing up the stairs behind a gaggle of redheaded children (whose surname you could likely guess on the first try).

They settle into a compartment halfway down the carriage. Anne-Marie eagerly presses her face against the glass and makes a silly face at Sebastian, which he delightedly returns. Simon waves goodbye as well and holds up the book he’d packed, showing it off as if to say, “See Mum? We’ll be just fine.”

With your groggy son in your arms and Sebastian’s arm around your shoulders, you watch as the train slowly starts to rumble down the tracks and into the brilliant September sunshine. It’s carrying your children ever closer to your home, and yet further away from you than they’ve ever been.

You hide a few tears against the lapel of Sebastian’s robes; he kindly wipes away the rest with a handkerchief and kisses the redness on your cheeks and nose until you’re smiling once more.

“They’re going to have an incredible year,” he whispers to you. “It’s Hogwarts.”

You simply nod, not trusting yourself to answer without a stray sob slipping out.

Dozens of parents begin to Apparate away from the tracks as soon as the train rounds the corner, but with your youngest, you’ll need to make your way back to the station’s Floo flames to get home safely. This time pushing an empty cart, the three of you slip back through the brick barricade.

“It sure will feel quiet when we get home,” Sebastian says a little sadly.

“We’ve still got the littlest one,” you say softly, cradling your sleeping boy’s cheek as he clings to you through his nap. “He’ll keep us on our toes enough as he gets older.”

“I suppose,” Sebastian sighs, still sounding morose even as he reaches over and gently strokes the back of his fingers down your singleton’s back.

Then he perks up and raises an eyebrow at you. “Or perhaps we could try for a fourth?”

You shoot him a withering glare. “Not on your life, Sebastian Sallow. We’ve just sent the twins off to school, I think that means we should actually get to enjoy some peace and quiet for once.”

(Though when your twins come home for the winter holidays with countless tales of their adventures with new friends and their pockets stuffed full of Zonko’s products, Sebastian gets to be the one to tell them they’ll have a new baby sister the following summer.)

[farfromstrange]

Is It Over Now? | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader ; (hinted) Frank Castle x Reader ; Elektra Natchios x Matt Murdock

Summary: Matt cheated on you, and you are trying to navigate through it.

Warnings: Angst, no happy ending, break-up, mention of cheating, song references (Taylor Swift), inspired by 'Is It Over Now?', (some) Matt "slander", (somewhat) suicidal thoughts, alcohol consumptions, hint at smut

Word Count: 1.7k

A/n: 1989 TV came out and I am losing my shit. Is It Over Now? Is my new favorite song and I just had a brain fart that made this. You can read this if you're a Swiftie and catch the references or just read it without listening to the song. It works either way.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

To be fair, there was a time when you thought it would never end. The thought of ever having a last kiss with him would have killed you back then. 

He told you that you were the love of his life. You believed him. He was yours, certainly. You can’t deny that.

You were happy, you laughed and cried together, and part of you figured that if you ever broke up, you would find a way to work through it somehow. 

Maybe in another universe, you are still together. Maybe in another universe, you two are still friends. Maybe in another universe, you never had to lose each other.

In this reality though—in this brutal, unforgivable reality—everything changed in a matter of a day. And there is nothing you can do about it now.

Your flower was withering in secret, and you didn’t realize what it was doing to you. Every time you woke up alone, every canceled date, every time he called you and told you he wouldn’t make it home tonight, it was sure to build up to this. 

But this, whatever the hell this is, it hurts beyond compare. 

He said you were a rose, but now that you look in the mirror, you only see a rotten mess.

The past few months have done this to you. He has done this to you. The paper airplanes crashed and burned. There is nothing left but pure bitterness and this hatred you have toward yourself and him; you just want to land your fist in his face, and then maybe your own because how could he hurt you like that after making you love him so very much? 

You loved him so much, but now you doubt he ever loved you back. 

Date after date, coffee after coffee, nights spent together on his couch and in his bed, sharing laughter, sharing tears, it all feels like a hoax now. 

You held him when he was unconscious, stitched him up and told him he was going to be okay. Where was he when you were bleeding out from your own battles? You wonder.

His smile used to be your safe haven, the epitome of innocence and strength, but now it only makes you angry. It makes you resent him. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, but you still do.

So much has changed, and all it took was one day. 

One day. 

Three hundred days, all wasted in one. 

If you think about it, you spent almost an entire year attached to each other’s side. You moved in together. You kissed, you had sex, you shared secrets you wouldn’t have told anyone else. You helped him hide away from the world, from his enemies, made the world go quiet, and comforted him while he cried. You waited up, you worried, and you almost lost him more times than you can count, and you still stayed.

When no one else would take a chance on him, when he felt everyone was against him and going to leave him, you acted as his rock. You stayed.

You thought he was the one. 

And then it just… ended. 

You gave him the benefit of the doubt when you found her in his dress shirt on his leather couch. The very same couch you two often shared passionate nights on, but at the same time it used to be a symbol of so much more than that.

You let him explain. He explained that she got seriously hurt after showing up out of nowhere, and he just wanted to help without putting you at risk. You believed him because that is the kind of man he was in your head. He was going through some things, things you couldn’t possibly understand, and she was the connection. You tried to understand. In the process of understanding him though, you lost yourself. 

That is something you will never forgive him for. Making you care, making you love him, and unintentionally making you give up on yourself while he continued to break your heart.

You never wanted this to end, never wanted him to go, but in the end, it was the only way. Sticking around wasn’t an option anymore, you have to remind yourself.

He did the one thing he promised he would never do. He broke your heart and your trust into a million pieces that you are now left to pick up on your own. 

You didn’t want to see it before. You were too in love to open your eyes.

He wouldn’t do such a thing, right? You remember repeating that to yourself, to your friends, to Foggy and Karen, but Karen saw him with her, too, and she gave you little hope.

Still, you believed in him. You believed in his morale and his faith. You had faith in him, not even in God but in him and the man he pretended to be—and somehow, he still picked up the knife when you weren’t looking and buried it in your back. 

There were so many signs, but you were blind. So many flashing lights. Red flags. Screaming voices in the back of your head begging you to think. You were in a forest full of trees, yet you saw nothing.

When you came home to find his lips on hers, that’s when you knew. Too little, too late.

He called your name. He told you, “This isn’t what it looks like!” But you lost count of the times he used the same line in relation to her.

To anything, really. He always knew how to talk his way out of something when you were together, although back then, it was mostly harmless.

“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. “And you turned right back around and fucked her!”

“It was just a kiss,” he argued. 

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”

“No,” Matt was adamant because he could hear your heart breaking.

The way you spoke to him was so eerily quiet. That was how he knew he lost you, and he tried to fix it with nothing but his hands. 

But that is not how you fix a broken vase. That’s how you make it worse and hurt yourself in the process.

You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

“No. Fuck you, Matt!”

You tore the necklace with his initial off your neck and tossed it at his feet. You couldn’t even look at it. You wonder what happened to it after he picked it up. 

“I trusted you. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I was there when no one else was, and this is how you repay me?” you said.

You should have never let him fool you.

At least you had the decency to keep your lonely nights to yourself.

“Sweetheart, please,” Matt tried to beg again. 

You wouldn’t let him. Thank God you were strong enough to withstand the tears in his eyes. 

“You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock,” was one of the last things you said to him. “I wish we’d never met.”

Three hundred days. You fell in love. You finally knew what love felt like, and then…then he turned around and fucked it all up. 

“We’re done.”

Some days, you still regret it, but if it was so easy for him to toss all this time together down the drain, he probably wasn’t worth it. 

But God, you were so in love. 

Sweet nothings whispered in your ear are gone now. You’re all alone in your bed. No one to cuddle, no one to touch. It has been a while since you heard someone say, “I love you,” and mean it. You felt loved until you didn’t. Until the life he led ate him up. 

Instead of talking, instead of fighting with you, he drove you into a tree. A car that didn’t need sight, and still he crashed. It was winter then, the snow painted red by the blood of your broken heart. Your favorite dress torn up as you tried to escape. He reached for you the same way you reached for him, but you weren’t there. And he wasn’t there when you needed him most.

Part of you feels bad. You could have worked through this if he hadn’t kissed her. Or maybe you wouldn’t have. In the end, it killed you. It killed him. 

You killed each other. 

Though there are still days when you think about jumping off of very high somethings just to get his attention. Just for him to see you. To come to rescue you. It is a hurtful and selfish thought. Yet, you can’t help it. 

He was your first true love. 

Your mind keeps repeating the same sentence: It wasn’t supposed to end like this. 

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he told you once. 

He searched for something greater in the bed of someone he loved before. You weren’t his first love. You should have known he would say that and not mean it.

But when exactly did you go wrong?

Was it over when he stopped coming home at night? Was it over when he forgot your anniversary? Was it over when he canceled your birthday dinner? Or was it over when he shoved his throat down his ex-girlfriend’s throat in front of you and acted as if it didn’t matter? Was it over then?

“Another one for the lady,” a voice pipes up beside you. 

Your empty glass of tequila disappears, now replaced by a full one. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger. 

“Nah, don’t thank me.” He sits down next to you. “You look miserable.”

“What if I am?”

“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”

You huff but offer the stranger your hand with a mention of your name.

He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say. 

Broken people make bad decisions, but whether it was over when he took her right there on his couch, or it was over when you told him it was doesn’t matter. 

It is over now, and all you want to do is forget. 

You need to forget Matt Murdock. 

And if this stranger called Frank needs to unbutton your blouse to help you do so, you will gladly follow him home. 

Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @ravenclaw617

(also, I keep tagging you in stuff, but I also think you might like this @blackshadowswriter)

[babygirlnicohischier]

It's the Cup - Matthew Tkachuk x gender neutral reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, oral (F and M receiving), fingering (F receiving)

Summary: Maybe serving the Stanley Cup champs wouldn't be so bad after all, thanks to Matt somethingorother.

Word count: 2.8k

Note: I wrote this right after the playoffs wrapped and just found it again, so don't be shocked if the proofreading is 100%

God, you thought as you slipped past your coworker slid the 1000th aperol spritz of the night to the group of 22-year-old girls in front of you,it’s 2024, why are we still playing Drake at the bar?

Things have been different lately, mainly that your bar has never been this busy. After the Cats won the Stanley Cup, even the most hidden gems in the city were packed with people who hoped and prayed that the team would be make an appearance, free bottles and fanfare galore.

Everyone except you. A bartender on their third double shift and eigth sugar-free red bull of the weekend. You were hoping that a few days out from the Stanley Cup Parade things would have started settling down but there had been no such luck.

Now, you have to crank out ten vodka sodas at a time and feel your hands go numb from constantly reaching into the cooler for beer bottles and seltzer cans to keep up with the rush. You didn’t think it was possible to get cramps in your hands from bud lights, but the universe wanted to prove you wrong. As if it wasn’t bad enough to be stiffed by the jerks here trying to hit on the puck bunnies. A few feet from you at the corner of the bar, you briefly make eye contact with one of the Panthers players, his golden curls somehow still perfectly touseled even after hours of partying. You hear him introduce himself, Matt something, to the girl in front of him. You almost felt bad for her with how uninterested he seemed in her, and how his eyes glazed over as she leaned in close to ask him something.

“It’s the Cup,” a sarcastic voice barked out,”it’s the Cup, girl.”

With how shitty the past few days have been, you allowed yourself to laugh at the snark. You looked over in the direction of it just in time to see the 1000th aperol spritz of the weekend slink away from Matthew Something. A few more rounds of green tea shots and dozens of High Noons later you could finally catch your breath as the crowd in front of you began to die down. Even the rush of the celebration could only alst so long into the night, and you checked your phone to see it was nearly 1:30 at this point. ‘Only a few hours left and I can crash. I got this.’

The sight of wet crumpled bills falling into your tip jar instantly made you perk up and lower your phone. It was one of those Florida Panther players, Matthew Something, dropping hundred dollar bills by the handfuls into the bucket with a smile.

“Been watching you all night, he yelled over the music,”you’ve been working so hard that I haven’t had a chance to come over. I’m Matt, by the way, Matt Tkachuk.”

Ah, you thought, that’s it.

You gave him your name and shook his outstretched hand, not-so-subtly noting how much bigger it was than yours. It was also gentler and warmer than you expected for someone with such a rough job and tough guy reputation. After a few moments, you realized you still hadn’t let go of said gentle, warm, and very big hand, and he hadn’t pulled away either. You would have been embarrassed if in that same moment one of his drunk teammates hadn’t come over yelling something neither one of you could make out and holding the Stanley Cup triumphantly above his head.

Matt finally dropped your hand and asked for some beers. “Oh yeah, he’s being nice to me since I’m at work. He was talking about getting drinks not about talking to me.” Thankful for a reason to turn away from his blue-green eyes and golden curls, you welcomed the order and opened up the row of beers. Dropping a few more of those crumbled wet bills into the bucket, Matt winked and turned back to his friends.

This happened a few more times throughout the night as the players took over your side of the bar. You watched them enviously as they got to drink, party, and dance while you were stuck making mixed drinks for girls trying to slip into the players’ section and the guys without a Stnaley Cup victory chasing right after them.

The only one without someone, girl or guy, hanging on to or circling around him was Matt. Matt who you caught looking in your direction more than once. Your eyes looking in his direction more than once. As much as you tried to ignore him, something about his gaze brought a flush to your cheeks.

Around 3am, when the remaining crowd seemed to settle down again, you told your coworkers you needed your break and slipped out the back door into the sticky Florida night to finally take in some fresh air, even if it was just as hot as the inside of the bar. As you sat there, trying to rally for the next few hours of your shift, the door opened behind you. You were surprised when you opened the door and heard the sound of someone scrolling through tiktoks, some pop song blasting out into the humid night air. “Shit, you scared me,” you said with a gasp, turning to see none other than Matt.

He shrugged his shoulders and smiled, “No, I’m the one who should be sorry about that. I would never want to scare you,” he replied. “I have been looking for you though.”

“Oh really? What for?”

“You’re the hottest person here. My friends bet me $20 I couldn’t get your number tonight. They upped it to $100 when they saw me empty my wallet into your tip jar and you didn’t even blink my way. I almost thought you weren’t interested until we kept locking eyes.”

“Oh please,” you teased, “it’s a but hard to look away from the loudest guys in the bar.”

Matt scoffed, “Somehow I don’t think that’s it. So what do you say? You wanna help me make back some of that tip money? Wanna help me win this bet?”

As he went through each sentence he inched a little closer until he was leaning over you, leaving just enough room for you to dip around him and escape if you needed to. Even inebrieated with a few of those beers you served him, Matt was aware of himself and how big he was, and how maybe you weren’t into him after all. The spicy smell of his cologne mixed with the beer you knew must be coming out from his pores at this point and the faint hint of cigar smoke and chewing gum. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you were leaning in towards him, noticing how pink his lips looked. Before you could talk yourself out of it you were kissing him, hands running through his mullet.

He was taken aback at first and froze before you felt one of his large hands reach up and cup you cheek as he pulled you in even closer. As the kiss deepened, Matt pressed his body flush against yours. Through his jeans,through his hold, you felt him start to harden as you pushed your hips into his.

You pulled gently on his curly locks, eliciting a low moan from his throat. Taking advantage of his groan, you slipped your tongue into his mouth and his eagerly followed suit, pushing into your open mouth. His hands moved from your face to snake around your waist, somehow pressing you even tighter and removing any remaining space that was left between you. His lips were swollen as he pulled away from you briefly. You leaned into his collarbone, exposed with his shirt only half buttoned, and sucked it hard enough to leave your mark on him.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he threw his head back. Working up his neck, you continued to leave bites and wet kisses.

“Babe do you know what you’re doing to me?” he asked, taking your hand and placing it over the growing bulge in his jeans.

It was thick, and you were surprised at how much of a grower he was. As your hand traveled up to his zipper you heard him softly whimper at your touch and the anticipation of more.

“Why don’t we go back inside?” you asked, continuing to stroke him through his pants,“Staff bathroom is a little more…private.”

You already knew he wouldn’t say no to you no matter what you said, his fingers interlocking with yours letting you lead him wherever you wanted. Once back inside, you slipped into the tiny bathroom between the shelves of extra bottles and backup cups.

Inside the small space, there was barely enough room for the two of you to stand together; nevermind with your back pressed into the sink and his calves touching the toilet behind him. Despite this, Matt continued making out with you the second the lock on the door clicked into place.

“Need you,” he whined, grabbing for any piece of your hips or waist that he could get to. When he managed to get his hands on you, he lifted you up and sat you on the edge of the sink. Lifting up your hips, you helped him pull down your shorts and undies. They were barely around your ankles before you felt Matt’s hands reach between your legs.

“Look at you, so wet for me,” he said mystified as he dipped one finger between your legs and put it into his mouth, “taste so sweet too.” 

“Matt, come on,” you said, grasping at him and pushing him towards the floor, ”be a good boy and eat me out.

Matt was eye-level with your core now, puppy-like and eager, and spread your legs with care. Instantly, he dove betwen your legs and lapped at your wetness, circling your clit with his tongue.

“Oh god,” you managed to choke out as he licked at your core, “Matt, you look so pretty with my pussy on your face. You love this don’t you, baby?”

He moaned into you as an answer, driving deeper with his tongue and tightening his hold on your thighs.

“Just like that babe, you’re doing such a good job, baby boy.” Matt practically growled at the pet name.

“You love being on your knees, huh? Like a slut.” As he pulled away from your center, Matt sank his teeth in your thigh, leaving his own mark on you as his stubble moved across your skin. “Of course I do,” he grinned, licking his lips, ”especially when you taste so good.”

He stuck two fingers in his mouth and pulled them out with a pop. Before you could answer, his fingers were deep inside you, curling to hit your most sensitive spot. Soon his mouth joined in, sucking and biting your clit as you got closer and closer to release. Praises rained from your lips, urging him on until finally you felt yourself clench around his fingers. Matt let you ride out your high on his fingers before pulling them from you and licking them clean. A string of your cum still connected his lips to you, and it was the prettiest thing you had ever seen.

“Your pussy is addicting,” he said with a dazed smile. You finally untangled your hand from his locks, disappointed your grip on him had ruined his perfect curls.

You took a moment to regain yourself before sliding down off the edge of the sink and pulling your shorts back up. “You did so good, baby. You deserve a reward for making me cum so quickly.”

Matt nodded eagerly, waiting for whatever you would give him.

“Do you want me to go down on you too? Do you want me to show you how much I appreciate how good you were?” 

“Fuck yes,” he gasped out as he watched you slide slowly down his body to settle in on your knees. With nimble fingers he undid his belt and pants and pulled out his cock, pumping it slowly in his hand as he waited for you to be ready.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” you asked him, tone suddenly serious.

Matt froze instantly. “Well,” you said, feigning disappointment,”if you want to take care of yourself then I guess I don’t need to help.” 

“No, please—” he said, letting go quickly. He looked down at you with his big blue eyes, but you were more focused on the bead of precum on his pink tip. You needed to know how it tasted but you couldn’t let him have it so easily. 

“Please what?” you prompted, giving tiny kisses and sucks along his thighs. You felt him shudder underneath each kiss.

“Please suck my cock,” he begged, eyes pleading with you,”please I need to cum. I've been so good.”

“Well,” you considered, drawing out the word, “you do sound so sweet begging for me.” You peppered kisses along his lower stomach, loving the way he squirmed for you.

“Please,” he breathed out, just as you kissed right where his abs ended and his happy trail began, ”please, I need you.”

Rather than answer him, you readied yourself before taking most of his length into your mouth. His surprised moan only fueled your fire as you swallowed around him. You pump him near the base, making sure to make a show of slipping your other hand into your shorts. 

“Oh fuck,” he moaned out, repeating the phrase like a prayer. “Oh fuck, baby, please don’t stop.” 

You pulled back to trace his head with the tip of your tongue, looking up at him so you could see how much he was enjoying it. He was biting his lip, using every muscle in his body to hold in how loudly he truly wanted to moan. Bobbing back down to swallow more of his length, you kept your eye contact going as long as you could. When his tip hit the back of your throat he couldn’t help but close his eyes and let his head hang back in ecstasy. 

You felt him twitch in your mouth, a sure sign he was going to cum soon. Pulling your mouth off of him, you asked him sweetly, “Now baby, do you want to cum on my face or in my mouth?” 

“Your mouth, please,” he panted out. You nodded and gave him kisses down his perfectly pink cock before putting him back between your lips. Not long after, you tasted the salty sweet release and felt him shake under you as you sucked his head gently, coaxing as much from him as he could give. 

“Shit,” he gasped,“That was… that was amazing.” You pulled his boxers back up over him as you carefully stood up. Checking yourself in the mirror, your eyeliner was running slightly and your lips were perfectly plumped from the encounter. 

A pounding at the door and a call for your name has the two of you nearly jumping out of your skin. “Hey, I need to pee,” one of your coworkers shouted from the other side,”Are you two almost done in there?” 

Matt burst out laughing as he looked at you wide-eyed, face burning like a high school kid getting caught by his parents with his first hickey.

“Give us a sec!” you shouted as Matt finished up his belt buckle. He pulled you in close once more, kissing you deeply for a moment.

“No matter how many times we do this,” he admitted, pressing his lips gently to your forehead,”it’s still fun.”

“Maybe next time we can try role playing at your job though,” you suggested with a laugh, “I can pretend to be a sexy goalie or a naughty linesman.”

“Matthew Tkachuk, 2 minute minor for not enough roughing,” you teased.

“Ha ha very funny, now we better get out of here before Marla gets upset with me,” Matt said worriedly,”I think we took a little too long this time.”

He opened the door cautiously, afraid to slam it into your best friend and coworker, Marla, as she waited for you two to clear out. She rolled her eyes as you walked out, fingers laced together and very content.

“God,” she groaned,” can’t you guys fuck somewhere else? I love you both but this is the third time this month that I’ve been stuck out here waiting for you to finish up your little sex games.” 

“Listen, if you were dating someone this hot you’d want to fuck them everywhere too,” Matt replied and Marla rolled her eyes. He led you back out to the sounds of shouts and celebration, still holding your hand in his. 

“I’m serious about the linesman thing,” you piped up again,“I think it could be a sexy little scene.”

“Ehhh, we’ll talk about it at home. Now come on, the guys wanted to say hi before you went back to work.” 

[dear--mars]

Do you think we’re soulmates in every universe?

── Synopsis: Soulmates. The concept sounded unreal, too good to be true. And it seemed it was. Nothing lasts forever and the thought of being together even in another world was just a dream.

── Characters: Blade, Aventurine, and Veritas

── CW: can't find anything. (please let me know if I missed any.)

── Notes: kinda occ ngl... [angst/no comfort]

── Word count: 591 + 891 + 867 = 2349 words in total

Blade ── Blade was a wandering soul. Both of you knew that and yet you still tried to tie him down. But could you really be blamed?

How could you think he wanted anything else when all he did was send mixed signals? One moment he’s cold and distant then he’s all over you, being needy and needing your comfort. So was it any surprise when you eventually got tired of his on-and-off behavior?

So you left. 

You started a new life on the small planet of Adion. You worked a job you actually liked, made new relationships, and never stressed too much about things that didn’t matter. It was the turning of a new leaf.

But with joy come sorrow and suffering.

A loud banging at your door echoed throughout your house. You tossed and turned in your bed, trying to fall back asleep, but the noise breaks the peaceful sleep you’re so desperately clinging to. 

You sat up, rubbing your eyes before taking a look at the clock for a few moments, it’s two in the morning. You had no idea what was going on but you had a familiar sense of deja vu that you couldn’t shake. 

"Damn it… Who the hell is that?" You mumbled to yourself before getting out of bed to walk to the front door. But once you saw who was at your door, every hint of fatigue fled your body as your blood ran cold. 

It was Blade.

You slightly faltered as your mind ran a hundred miles per hour trying to think of how he found you. You swallowed the lump in your throat and took a step back, not wanting to be in his vicinity.

Wordlessly, Blade reached out and stopped you. In the past, you would’ve said that Blade was one of the hardest men to read but as of right now, you could tell every thought that ran through his head.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you haven’t seen each other for a few months. The slight tug on his eyebrows that showed frustration, the dark circles under his eyes told you that he hadn’t slept for a while, and lastly the desperation and relief hidden in his eyes.

“Why?” was the only thing he croaked out.

You immediately understood what he was asking and a flash of irritation crossed your face. “Are you serious? Why? Why did I leave?” You asked, finishing his question. When you saw him nod, you scoffed.

You pulled your hand away from his but it chased after your warmth instinctively. “Why wouldn’t I leave? What have you done for me to make me want to stay?” You spat out harshly.

Blade flinched and gritted his teeth. He reached out to grab your hand again, this time intertwining his fingers with yours. “Maybe not in this lifetime but do you think we’re soulmates in every other universe?” He mumbled out, clearly in a vulnerable state.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not anymore. You cared way too much in the past, it was time to move on from this chapter in your life. Time to move on from Blade. “Do you leave me in every universe?” Your tone was bitter.

Even more so than him. Only then did Blade truly realize just how much power you had over him. You could make him the happiest he had ever been, more than he thought he could be but you could also drag him into the deepest depths of pain and agony.

Aventurine ── Aventurine. What a man.

At times you couldn’t believe he was yours. Waking up next to him and seeing his smile made you fall in love with him all over again. But you should’ve suspected something was up with a man so perfect and flawless.

You should have anticipated this turn of events. The plot twist was so overused that the only appropriate response you could get out was laughter. Lovers betraying each other—how cliché. 

How could someone be so blind just because of love? You couldn't fathom it. You hated this trope and Aventurine knew that. Maybe that’s why he was smiling ever so slyly when he revealed his true intentions. 

After telling you the truth, Aventurine left your home cold and empty, taking any semblance of warmth with him. Years passed and you were forced to move on. Did you still love him deep down? Of course, but time moved forward whether you were ready or not.

Aventurine was born lucky. Being blessed by Gaiathra Triclops from birth, Aventurine grew up always having luck at his side. A fact that he hated but one that he relied on often. 

That’s why he thought no matter what, he’d always win. But Aventurine hadn’t known that his ‘luck’ only really constituted physical ideas and plans, not emotions. Especially his or yours, not after everything he did to you.

Aventurine felt a void in his chest like something was missing. You, Obviously but he would never admit that. As “carefree” Aventurine is, he still has his pride. He used you even if it was for work, catching feelings wasn’t an option.

But it never hurt to see how you were doing, right?

That’s the excuse Aventurine used as he sat in your hotel room. He never would’ve thought you’d be here in Penacony but it worked out in his favor. (Everything always did.)

Aventurine hears the door creak open and footsteps but they stop as soon as you laid eyes on him. Your eyes widened, you could recognize that tuff of blond hair just about anywhere in the universe.

Your breathing gets a bit heavier as your hands curl into fists. Aventurine doesn’t need to turn around to see you’re upset but he does anyway. He wants to see your beautiful face after all. 

God, you were extraordinary. Even after years of being apart, you still looked the same. If anything, you grew to be more attractive. Your soft skin, your plump lips, and your luscious hair that shined even under artificial lighting.

“Hey. It’s been a while, huh?” He asked, hiding his true feelings and masking them with a facade of confidence and nonchalance. “Never expected you to come to Penacony of all places.”

Your heart ached when Aventurine spoke to you with an air of familiarity. You hated how he acted like nothing happened between the you two. You ignored his words, cutting straight to the point. “What are you doing here.” You asked but it was more of a demand.

Aventurine raised his hands in mock surrender. “What’s with the hostility? I just came here to say hi and catch up.”

“Get out.” Your tone was bitter.

“Come on-” You cut him off,

“No. Get out of my room. Or wait, should I beg you to stay like last time so you’ll definitely leave?” You mocked, in slight disbelief of Aventurine’s audacity.

Aventurine ever so slightly faltered at your tone and words. “Okay, ouch.” He joked but deep down your actions hurt. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.” But when Aventurine saw the glare in your eyes, he decided to drop the facade.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, a habit he did when he was feeling guilty or bad. “Do you remember our first anniversary? When we were having that picnic under that giant weeping willow?” He reminisced with a strained smile.

“You asked back then if we’d be soulmates in every universe and I said yes, knowing that I’d have to betray you. I feel like it’s my turn.” Aventurine paused and took a deep breath. “Do you think we’re soulmates in every universe?”

You didn’t hesitate in cutting down any and all expectations, Aventurine held. “Why would you think that when you ruined it for us in this one?” You counted with a question of your own.

Aventurine froze before smiling, trying to mask the pain in his expression. “I have to admit I wasn’t expecting you to say something so cruel but I understand,” Aventurine said with a smile, trying to act playful and nonchalant. 

He then left your room without any more complaints. The truth of the situation didn't hit him until he saw you at the bar, laughing and drinking with another man. Maybe my luck has finally run out. He thought, trying to shove back any emotions from leaking out.

Aventurine had never truly wanted anything in his life. He couldn't afford the luxury of wanting something. He never asked for all the wealth he amassed or the luck he was born with. Hell, he didn’t even really want freedom. After being chained down for so long, Aventurine wouldn't know what to do if he was free.

But you were different.

He wanted you. But he couldn’t. 

And that was what pissed him off the most.

Veritas ── Dating Veritas was not for the weakhearted. Due to his extreme talent and unparalleled intelligence, he holds himself in high regard. He comes off as candid, self-centered, and condescending. 

Even mocking or narcissistic at times. But you knew him better. Veritas was just a bit too blunt but he was sensible and levelheaded. He wasn’t a bad person. In fact, it’s the opposite. 

He firmly believes that intellect isn’t confined to geniuses and seeks to distribute knowledge to the entire universe, all to “cure” ignorance. He wants to help people but is just a bit odd or “mean” while doing it. 

He does have a bit of an eccentric temperament but he meant well. That’s what you always told yourself but that excuse was starting to grow old. You were trying to be considered an understanding of where he was coming from, you always have been.

But you can only take so much. A person can only get knocked down so many times before they decide it's better to just stay on the floor. And it seemed you were reaching that breaking point with Veritas.

He would always point out your mistakes, nitpick something irrelevant, or just for the sake of it. You started to wonder if he even loved you. Never once did he really show affection toward you.

At first you tried to acknowledge that he might not feel comfortable with that but after years of being together, if he still wasn't comfortable enough with you to show basic affection… You couldn't help but wonder, what the hell have you been doing for the past four years of your life?

One day you had enough. 

Your words rang clearly throughout his study, "Veritas, I think we should stop seeing each other." You said vaguely but the message was clear. 

Veritas froze upon hearing your words, not expecting you to say such a thing. "Why?" he asked simply, the coldness now turning into a sharp tone. The suddenness of this topic left him confused, a part of him wanting to lash out at you, but he refrained.

"I just don't think we're compatible as a couple."

Veritas scoffed as soon as you finished speaking, feeling slightly annoyed at that word. Was 'compatibility' the thing that doomed their relationship? "So you have realised we are not compatible after so many years of being together?" His tone now sharp with the hints of slight aggression.

You didn’t flinch at his cold tone. "You don't have to get so defensive, I'm not blaming you." You said with a gentle expression, which was odd for you. You've always been more hot-headed and impulsive so seeing you like this was weird to Veritas.

"It's just that I want to be loved in a more open way and you can't provide that for me which is okay. That's just not you, and I don't want you to change yourself for me. I'm sure you're more suited with someone who's like yourself. I'm just not the person."

Veritas could tell by your calm explanation, that you’ve been thinking about this for quite some time and that fact stabbed his heart in a way he’d never felt before. "I tried my best to love you as much as I possibly can, but apparently that was not enough for you..."

"Just because you love me doesn't mean I feel loved." You countered and Veritas froze. "Let's think about it this way. Let's say you're trying to teach somebody something. It's easy for you so you have high expectations for the person you’re teaching. But that person just doesn't get it. They're trying their best but they're not understanding. You would feel upset or annoyed, right? Because their best isn't good enough for you." You tried to explain in a way he would understand.

“The fault wouldn't be placed on the person who's trying their best, it would be placed on the one who had unrealistic expectations.” You finished with a strained smile. You loved Veritas, with all your heart but you couldn’t go on like this.

Veritas had to stifle the urge to argue for a moment. He hated how accurate your example was, but he also understood your point. “Do you believe in fate? Destiny and or soulmates, things like that?“ He asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

You paused, raising an eyebrow at him. Veritas was an intelligent man when it came to logic and reasoning. Things like destiny and fate weren't “logical” in the slightest. “I suppose.” You answered carefully.

“Do you think we’re soulmates in every other universe?” You blinked at Veritas’ question. Never in a million years would you have thought that he would ask you something like that. You sighed and decided to give him a taste of his own blunt medicine.

“Do you treat me like shit in every universe?” Veritas felt his heart shatter at your response. He didn’t know you felt like that. He didn’t know that he was treating you so badly to the point where’d you had to resort to this.

He regretted asking. This would perhaps be the only time he wished to remain ignorant, despite his life goal of getting rid of it. 

- Navigation -   - Supernova -

[icanhearcolors]

I really love the idea of Tav drawing Astarion to show him what he looks like, could you maybe write something about that? ^-^

Hiiiiii! I can indeed thank you for the request :b

Welcome back to another episode of Abby tries to write something short and can't make it less than two thousand words.

EVERYBODY LOOK AT THIS GIF CUZ KJNKBJHGFRRETFO

Sorry I think I got possessed for a second there

Word count: 2.1k

The night sky had never been this gorgeous in the city. In Baldur’s Gate, the upper city was illuminated by mage lights that adorned the cobblestone paths. The light was bright enough that the citizens split into two factions, the night life and the day. Even those without dark vision could operate solely at night in total comfort if they chose to. In the lower city, fires were always burning, sending plumes of rich smelling smoke into the air constantly, obscuring the night sky.

But out here, under the blue light of a full moon, you can see every star and constellation in vivid detail. A soft purr-like snore hums against your back, and you brush a hand over the downy feathers of the owlbear cub you rescued from the goblins. He was getting so big. If he gets half as big as his mother was it is going to become a challenge to travel with him. It’s a sacrifice you’re more than willing to make. Besides, you could always cast the reduction spell on him in a pinch if any problem arose. He sleeps curled around your back, alongside his friend Scratch the dog, whose fluffy white head is resting in your lap.

The campfire crackles a few yards ahead as Wyll adds a few logs, humming a Baldurian tune you recognize but can’t quite recall the name of.

For the first time since the nautiloid crash you feel peaceful. Safe.

You turn your gaze to Astarion’s tent, probably for the thousandth time tonight, and stare at his profile as he flips through the pages of the seemingly sentient necromancy tomb you had discovered a few tendays prior. A faint green light curls from the pages like mist, illuminating half his face and casting the rest in shadow. You’d never really understood the saying “so beautiful it hurts'' until you met Astarion. An unknown emotion compresses your chest in a way that makes it hard to breathe sometimes when you look at him. You think it started out as empathy. Every detail of Astarion’s story he revealed to either warn you about vampires or shock you for his own amusement painted a picture of a horrific life full of trauma and misery that you found hard to reconcile with your enigmatic companion. He was always the first to crack a joke. He laughed loudly and on a constant basis. From an outsider’s view he’d appear almost carefree. Happy even. You wondered now how much of that laughter was real, and how much of it was the armor he’d donned a couple hundred years ago when he breached the surface of his own grave. You recall a conversation you had with him a while back about vanity. In his two hundred and forty years, give or take, he’d only been able to see his reflection for thirty nine. An incredibly young age to die for a high elf, and a small fraction of his life-span. Even if any fuzzy memory remained of that past life, it was no longer accurate anyway. 

He was something different now. 

Your eyes slide to your pack. You had found something yesterday- something rare indeed. A merchant selling art supplies outside of the city. You had everything you needed to give Astarion something you took for granted every day. His reflection.

Slowly, both as to not disturb your sleeping friends and not alert the elf in question to your actions, you slip a hand inside the bag. Your fingers find a pencil easily, the paper next, and you begin to draw. At first you draw him as he is, using his current unmoving form as a model, but you had been quite the artist in your time in Baldur’s gate, and you finished that drawing almost too quickly. So, you draw him again from memory, this time with his head thrown back, face scrunched with laughter. Then you draw his frown, his smirk, the condescending expression he so often gives Gale, the softer one you don’t quite understand that he reserves for you. You don’t hide or downplay his vampiric traits. You draw him exactly as he is, blending colored chalk to capture every shade of red in his eyes. Time falls away as you lose focus on everything but your work. Eventually, some time much later, the cramps in your muscles wake you from your trance. You stretch, and your knees, shoulders, and spine crack loudly. Scratch wakes up, stands, shakes himself off, and trots into the bushes. Your owlbear notices, and trills a soft sound before standing too, following him into the woods. You smile as you watch them amble off, happy they get along so well. You turn back to your drawings and examine them with new eyes. You expected to feel excitement, pride maybe, but instead a cold feeling ties your insides in knots as you realize you can never give these to Astarion. The drawings are some of your best work, but they’re also… reverential. A glimpse of Astarion through your eyes. Anyone who saw them would think you had drawn your lover, not your less-than-trusting involuntary traveling companion. He would take one look and realize exactly what you’ve been hiding from him since- well since you met him. You were infatuated with the vampire, and somehow, miraculously, despite the fact that you’d slept with him once already,  he seemed to be unaware.

He was going to find out.

You eye the campfire, half tempted to toss the whole pad of paper into it.

In your panic you turn your gaze toward Astarion’s tent.

He’s not there. 

His tent is open, and no one is inside it. You can see that from here. 

Somehow- maybe it’s the tadpole, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent so much time with the rogue, you realize you know exactly where he is.

Slowly, as if to avoid instigating an attack from a stalking predator, you turn your head to find Astarion standing behind you, peering over your shoulder.

Even though you were expecting it, you still startle out of your skin. Astarion drops to his knees on the ground in front of you and claps his hand over your mouth just in time to muffle your screech. You both look at eachother with wide eyes before turning slowly and in unison towards a sleeping Lae’zel. She’s frowning in her sleep, which isn’t unusual for her. She twitches, and then rolls over to her other side, sound asleep. You sigh in relief, through your nose because your mouth is still covered by Astarion’s hand. You swat it away and throw him a withering glare.

“What the in the hells is wrong with you?” You whisper-shout.

Astarion presses his lips together and turns his head away from you for a moment, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“Oh yeah, laugh it up. If she’d woken up we’d be dead right now.”

“Look it’s not my fault you weren’t paying attention. You haven’t moved in almost four hours, I wanted to know what you could possibly be writing.”

You clutch the drawing pad to your chest and swallow nervously, eyes darting around for any glimpse of something you can use to distract him.

Unfortunately as you’ve come to realize, regardless of what they used to be, once turned vampires become lethal predators. Astarion sees your darting eyes, catches the scent of your fear, and you see the shift in his demeanor. 

His movements become slower, more fluid, as he tilts his head in malicious curiosity.

He reminds you sometimes of the big cats that roam the mountains of Faerûn. Once something captures his attention, there’s little use in trying to pull him off the hunt.

Still, you’re going to try.

“I’m not writing.”

His eyes flick to your hands, dusted in red powder, then back up. He hums.

“Drawing then. What have you been drawing Tav?” 

His voice is darker now. Persuasive. 

“It’s- uh… personal.”

Astarion lowers himself fully to the ground and stretches his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his arms. 

“A personal drawing?” He purrs, “Well now I have to see it.”

“No-” You cover your face with your hand, “That’s not what I meant and you know that Astarion.”

A moment of silence passes, so you lift your hand away from your face.

Astarion is gazing at you with that unknown expression again. His eyes look earnest, a soft smile on his lips, when he speaks the words that are your undoing.

“You can trust me, Tav. I already know how talented you are, you don’t have anything to worry about. Just show me.”

You sigh, and his smile grows. He knows he’s won.

Bastard.

“Fine you can see my drawings, but I need to tell you-”

The drawing pad is already out of your hands, your permission apparently all that was keeping Astarion from snatching it away from you.

Your heart stops at his first look at the paper. He stills, flipping through the drawings slowly, his eyes tracing every detail with excruciating slowness.

Finally, he puts you out of your misery.

“I-” He clears his throat, not meeting your eyes. “These are...”

He grips the paper tightly when you attempt to take the drawing pad back from him. You’re confused, and a little… well actually very hurt for a reason beyond your understanding.

Does he hate it? Did you overstep?

“What are you thinking?”

Astarion finally looks at you, his expression guarded. He points to the drawings.

“Who is this?”

Oh.

You’re shocked silent. You should have anticipated this. Of course Astarion wouldn’t recognize himself in your drawings. That was the entire reason you drew him in the first place.

“He’s um-” You fall silent again.

Astarion looks both terrified and heartbreakingly hopeful. You’re sure he already knows the answer. You’ve spoken to him at length about what he is. You know that he knows he’s the only vampire spawn you’ve ever met, and you’ve been traveling together without much separation ever since.

He still needs to hear you say it.

You stare at your wringing hands in your lap and take a deep breath.

“I remembered that conversation we had about how you don’t know what you look like, you just have to go off of what other people tell you, and I bought these art supplies earlier and I haven’t drawn in so long, I used to all the time but with everything that’s going on- and I meant to just draw you once but I wanted you to know what you looked like when you smiled too and then I got a little carried away I’m so-”

You don’t hear him move. Your rambling speech stutters to a stop at the sensation of a hand on your cheek. Astarion hooks his thumb under your chin and lifts your head just enough to press his lips to yours.

Your eyes widen in surprise and then flutter closed. All thoughts cease, replaced by a languid warmth that melts you into a puddle on the ground.

You tilt your head and kiss him back, a tingling sensation racing down your spine. His hand slides from your cheek into your hair, and he gently pulls your head back, deepening the kiss in a way that steals the air from your lungs.

All too soon he pulls back, just a few inches, and smiles.

A real, genuine smile that shows his teeth and lights his eyes. You think you would do terrible terrible things to see that smile more often.

He brings his other hand up to frame your face, holding you in place as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

“Thank you.” He says simply, his voice hoarse.

“This is a gift. I won’t forget it.”

He repeats the words he said to you what feels like centuries ago, the night you found out he was a vampire and agreed to feed him. 

“You’re welcome.” Is all you can think to say.

With absolutely no warning at all Astarion drops his hands to your shoulders and yanks you toward him just in time. A pillow, rather violent in its velocity, grazes the back of your head in its catapult into the forest. Somewhere in the dark woods, Scratch yelps.

“Next time it will be my sword Isticks”

Growls Lae’zel from her bed roll on the other side of the campfire.

You turn back to Astarion with an amused but also terrified expression, and he smiles knowingly, rolling his eyes.

He picks the drawings up off the ground from where they’d been scattered at some point and gathers them in one hand. He stands, hoisting you up with his free hand, and practically drags you across the camp to his tent.

You’ll have to draw him more often.

[scribbly-artist]

Persuasion

Summary: It was always a battle to drag each other away from the lab, even when they were both on the brink of exhaustion. Viktor was being stubborn this time, however, Jayce has a trick up his sleeve that will persuade him.

Author’s Notes: Thanks to a very nice anon for sending the prompt for this one!! I apologise to not getting to this sooner, but I’ve had a bit of a rough week and last weekend I was out of town, so this took a little bit to get to. I had fun writing this one! Sometimes I get a little stuck writing Viktor, even though he’s my favourite. His way of speaking is hard to pin down (I find Jayce much easier somehow lol). But hey, I finally got to write them together this time! I hope you have fun reading. :) (And psst, if you’d like to see me write something in particular, feel free to send a prompt my way. ;) )

Words: ~1,200 | AO3 Link

Scrape scrape scrape.

This was the only noise that filled Jayce’s head as he stood a distance away from his partner, Viktor, writing on the blackboard in the laboratory.

They had been through another all-nighter, presently being in the early hours of the morning. The sun was just rising through the tall windows, the sky painted a beautiful mixture of colours… if only Jayce had the capacity to admire it.

Jayce and Viktor were no strangers to all-nighters. But these past few days in particular, they barely had much rest. And it’s been a while since Jayce has had any coffee. That wasn’t the case for Viktor, though. It seemed like the man never ran out of steam, regardless of how long he stayed awake - until his body just decides to collapse from exhaustion, which unfortunately has happened before.

Jayce was writing further notes in a book with a quill - he thought maybe changing writing utensils would inspire a breakthrough. But he couldn’t concentrate, not when his body was this fatigued. At this point, his legs felt like cement, eager to send his body crashing down. 

“Viktor… don’t you think we should go and take a break?” Jayce let out a sleepy yawn, blinking slowly. He shook his head to try to ward off the drowsiness, but nothing seemed to be working.

“We’re close to something, Jayce. I can feel it.” Viktor didn’t even turn his head around to speak to Jayce directly - he just continued writing on the blackboard, the noise getting on Jayce’s frayed nerves.

“Look - I’m tired. And I’m sure you are, too. We can’t make Hextech as good as it deserves to be if we’re both exhausted. We need to go and recharge.” Jayce closed his notebook, quill in hand.

“You are free to leave if you so desire to, Jayce. However, I have much more to do.”

Jayce’s hand moved to rub his eyes, a heavy sigh leaving his lungs.

“We’re partners, Viktor. We need to do this together. Which means we should look out for each other, too. I know how drained you are, you just won’t show it. Do it for your health, V.”

Viktor paused for a moment at the mention of the nickname. But it was only for a second as he continued to scribble on the board, not giving a verbal response.

Jayce’s unsatisfied eyes bore into the back of Viktor’s head. Not that Viktor could feel his gaze or anything, he was too absorbed in his work. It looked like Jayce would have to resort to… other methods to get Viktor to listen to him. Methods he had to use rather often. 

Jayce looked at Viktor, then at the quill in his hand. Then, back at Viktor… 

Both men have used tried and true methods to pull each other out of the lab when the other needed a break. Enticing them with food or sleep, going for a walk, or literally dragging the other out kicking and screaming. It was all for the others' health and sanity. There was one method that Jayce was fond of using, as it had a one-hundred percent success rate when Viktor was being particularly stubborn. 

Jayce took a few steps forward to approach Viktor so he was standing right behind him. Viktor didn't acknowledge his presence or his movement. 

Holding the pen end of the quill, Jayce reached up and fluttered the feather end gently across the back of Viktor’s neck. 

The reaction was instant. 

Viktor dropped the piece of chalk that was in his hand, a clink as it hit the floor and broke in the middle. Viktor didn't turn his head. 

Jayce wasn't expecting that reaction, but a reaction nonetheless. He kept tickling the nape of Viktor’s neck with the feather, a grin slowly forming on his face. 

“Don't tell me you're ticklish here, too.” Jayce could only quietly chuckle as Viktor shook his head, shrugging his shoulders to try to ward the feather off.

Viktor finally turned himself around, his cheeks a little red. “No, o-of course not. Don't be ridiculous.” He took a breath and steeled himself, not letting anything slip as he turned back around, picking up another piece of chalk to try to concentrate. 

“I dunno, it seems like it. Just a tiny bit.” Jayce’s grin widened. 

Jayce decided to mess with him a little more. He flicked the feather from his neck to the side of his ear, swishing it up and down on the skin delicately. 

Viktor put the piece of chalk back down, and used his hand to cover his mouth instead, his shoulders shaking. He would not give Jayce the satisfaction of winning this battle. But little did he realise this would just egg Jayce on further.

“What's wrong, Viktor? You're not going to work anymore? You put the chalk down,” Jayce commented aloud, he was too pleased with himself. This always seemed to happen - with either of them - when one had to drag the other out of the lab. “Think we should take a break now?”

“Jahahayce— I’m nearly done—“ it was hard for Viktor to get his words out as Jayce kept on switching the feather to tickle behind his ears and to the back of his neck. Whenever Viktor would try to crane his neck away or shrug his shoulders up to protect his ears, the feather would always follow. Despite his hand covering his mouth, his breathy laugh was slipping through. “Just— hehehe! J-Just five more minutes, alrihihight?” Viktor attempted to bargain with Jayce, but that wasn’t going to fly.

Jayce let out a dramatic sigh, as if it pained him to do this. “You’ve forced my hand, V.”

Without giving Viktor even a tick to register what Jayce had said, Jayce dropped the quill as his hands darted down to squeeze at Viktor’s hips, it was always a hotspot.

Viktor broke out into a loud cackle from surprise, dissolving into giggling. He made an attempt to grab at Jayce’s wrists, but he was much too quick as his hands darted to Viktor’s sides to skitter there. After a few moments, Viktor finally managed to grab Jayce’s wrists and pull them away from his body.

“FINE! Yohohou’ve convinced mehehe, Jayce.” Viktor sucked in a few breaths as he kept his hold on Jayce’s wrists, making sure Jayce wasn’t planning another tickly attack.

“I knew I could change your mind,” a smirk grew on Jayce’s face as he dropped his hands from Viktor’s wrist, placing one of his hands on Viktor’s shoulder instead. “Think we should grab something to eat and try to find a place to sleep for a few hours? After we get some much needed brain food, I know we can figure this out.”

“That would be ideal, yes.” Viktor gave a nod as he reached for his cane, getting himself ready to go. “We should go now, before I glue myself back to this board.”

“I agree. C’mon, time for some fresh air.” Jayce led the way as Viktor followed closely behind him, his cane clinking on the floor with each step.

It was hard work just convincing each other to leave the lab, on top of already being exhausted. Viktor in particular was always harder to persuade, so Jayce deserved a good nap after all of this.