#none can swim across them?

[nicolefirekitty]

he's a dick but he's right

[starcrossedslytherin]

The Marauder's Map

James Potter x Reader

WC: 6.9K

A/N: I feel like every few months or so I rise from the dead to post something, so here is a James fic I started, gods only knows when and have finally finished! Let me know your thoughts because I liked writing for James, I want to more.

Summary: James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter need help for a special resource for their pranks, so who better to go to than the best charms student Hogwarts has to offer- also the girl James seems to be in love with.

---

James was staring at you; you could feel it. 

You’ve always had a pretty good sense at telling when people were staring at you, but as you look up to meet James’ eyes for the fourth time today during breakfast before he quickly looks away, your stomach was swimming in nerves. 

“Lys, do I have something on my face?” You ask your friend Alyssa as you run a hand across your face, hopefully knocking away whatever has pulled James’ attention from the Gryffindor table to the Slytherin one. 

Alyssa furrows her brows but shakes her head. “None that I can see, why?” 

You frown. “Potter keeps looking at me.” 

“James Potter?” 

“Is there another Potter at this school that I haven’t met yet?” You press your lips together as Alyssa rolls her eyes. “Yes, James Potter.” 

She rolls her eyes before looking over at James. “I dunno, maybe he fancies you.” 

Her words cause your laugh to escape. “Are you mad? You think James Potter fancies me? James Potter?” 

“If we keep saying his full name like this, he’s bound to hear and look at us more.” Alyssa says before her eyes find the Gryffindor table again and a frown appears on her face. “Or rather they all will?” 

You pause in eating as you keep your eyes on Alyssa. “All of them?”

She tilts her head. “Well, James and Sirius are because they’re sitting on the side of the table that lets them, but Remus keeps turning back every once and while. The only one who hasn’t is Peter- oh, he’s doing it too. Yeah, it’s all of them.” You groan at her words, scooping the last bits of your breakfast into your mouth before hurrying to grab your things. “Where are you going?”

“Anywhere they are not.”

James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter watch as you practically run from your table. “You really think she’d help us?” Peter asks as he turns back to his food. 

James doesn’t look away from you until you were at the door of the Great Hall, looking at his table in confusion one last time before you’re gone. “I don’t see why not.” He finally says.

Remus chuckles under his breath. “Maybe because you just stared at her throughout her entire breakfast?”

Sirius took a bite of his cereal before pointing his spoon at James, talking through his food. “Yeah, that was creepy.”

James smacks his arm as Remus mumbles a ‘close your mouth’. “Well, I’ll just convince her then.” Remus, Sirius, and Peter all share a look as James leaves the table, knowing this could either end very well, or be a complete disaster. 

---

You end your escape in the library, finding a quiet table in the back as you finally let out a large breath and fall into the seat. You weren’t truly finished enjoying your breakfast, but you suppose at least now you can study in the library for a bit, hoping James and his friends focus their sights on someone else for the day.

Unfortunately, by the sight of James Potter sticking his head around the bookcase to your left, you realize that won’t be the case.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake.” You mutter to yourself and bury your face in your book. When you bring your head up, James stares back at you from across the table, shining his pearly white teeth as if this interaction between the two of you was normal. 

“Hello!” He says. You can’t help but just stare at him, blinking in confusion, but you don’t say anything. James’ smile slowly fades, and he clears his throat and furrows his brows. “I thought this would go easier.” He mumbles and you can just barely hear him.

You scoff, dropping your book on the table in front of you. “Okay, I think you’re going to have to try someone else if you want to add stalking to the list of hobbies of you and your merry men.”

James can’t help the upturn of his lips as he leans into the table. “Merry men?”

“Robin Hood?” You roll your eyes. “Robin Hood and the-”

“No, I uh, I get the reference. It’s just- you think I’m Robin Hood?”

This had to be the weirdest conversation you’ve ever had with James.

This had to be the weirdest conversation you’ve ever had.

“Why are you here?” you say slowly and cross your arms, choosing to lean back in your seat to put as much distance between the two of you as possible. 

James sat up, suddenly remembering why he had “stalking” you, as you put it, all morning. “Oh, uh,” He sucks in a breath. “How are you?”

You groan, throwing your hands in the air. “James Potter, we are 5th years now and have barely talked more than 20 times since day we met. I know you do not care how I am. Now. What. Do. You. Want?”

“We want your help with a prank.”

Now this sounds like James Potter and his “merry men”.

“A prank?” You ask, already skeptical of how you can be of help. “What kind?”

“It’s more of a resource, really.” He rubs the bottom of his face, staring off at your books in front of you in thought. You slap your hand over your books, causing the boy to finally meet your eyes. Your eyes flicker between his two hazel ones. 

“Why would you need my help with a resource for your prank? If it’s my house, there are loads of Slytherin’s and some of them might actually be willing to help you.”

“It’s not your house.” He shakes his head. You can’t stop yourself from watching the sight of his curly dark hair falling in front of his face. “You’re the best in our class at charms.”

“Any one of you is just as good as me.”

James shakes his head again, running a hand through his curls, ignoring the curls getting caught on his fingers as he pushes through. “No way. Remember last week? You were the only one in the class who didn’t walk out looking as orange as a pumpkin that lasted two days.”

“That’s because I was the only one who read the book.”

“No, it’s because you’re brilliant.”

You don’t have a response to James’ comment. It was obvious he was just trying to get on your good side so that you’d help with whatever this resource was. You hated the fact that it was working a bit. 

You sigh and push your books closed in front of you. “What is the resource?”

James’ face lights up and he quickly moves to the seat in next to you, pulling out a journal from his book bag. “That part is still a work in progress.” He flips through the pages, giving you a few quick glances at pranks he and his friends had come up with previously. You chuckle and shake your head. “Basically, what we are hoping for was a way to find anyone in the castle, wherever they are.”

He must be insane.

“What makes you think this would be something I knew how to do? I’m brilliant, Potter, but I’m not a bloody miracle worker.”

James was about to object as he turns to face you, but instead he just stares at you. Before you turn your head, James takes a sharp breath and pushes his glasses higher on his nose. “Well, we can work on it together. We’ll come up with something.”

“Potter…” you trail off, looking at the scrawled messy handwriting of the boy’s quick thinking on the page in front of you. You close the book. “Look, it sounds interesting. A challenge even, and I love challenges, but I don’t have time to waste with your silly little Gryffindor pranks. You’ll just have to find someone else or do it yourself.” 

James wants to object, saying you’re the best person for the task, but you were packing your things into your bag, and it wasn’t until you had almost left the table before he finally says, “We can use it to prank Snape.”

That got your attention.

It wasn’t a secret to everyone in Hogwarts that despite being in the same house, Severus Snape and you hated each other.

Your hand clenches and for a moment, James thinks he might have you. That is, until you turn around with a frown. “Sorry, Potter. Still not interested.”

---

“I told you she wouldn’t go for it.” Remus says, barely looking up at James over the book in his hand. 

James just grunts, keeping his glasses from slipping of his nose as he hangs upside off the couch, his curls reaching to the ground. “I don’t understand.”

“Why would she say no?” Sirius asks. He head was laying across Remus’ lap and he tries to annoy the boy while he’s reading by pushing the book away, but Remus is far too used to his antics as he slaps Sirius’ hand away without missing a word on the page. 

“Why would she say no!” James’ dramatic throw of his hands causes the other three boys to laugh at him.

They sit in silence for a moment, silently brainstorming where to go from here before Peter speaks up. “You didn’t flirt with her, did you?”

James stays silent. 

Remus, Sirius, and Peter can’t help themselves this time as their laughter filled the room, gathering the attention of other Gryffindor’s in the common room as James’ cheeks turn the darkest shade of red that they’ve ever seen.

“Blimey mate, what did you say?” Sirius chucks a pillow at James, and he can’t catch it in time, letting it smack his chest before he moves to sit up. 

“Nothing! I swear! I didn’t- I didn’t… I may have flirted just a tiny- a teensy tiny bit.” His voice is quiet at the end of his sentence out of embarrassment. 

If James thought his friends laughing at him earlier was bad, it was nothing compared to now. He does nothing but cover his face in his hands, waiting for the sounds to stop.

“What did you say?” Sirius jumps to the couch next to James, throwing his arm around his shoulders and bring him closer to his side. 

“Nothing!” James claims, but even he knows it was a lie. He sighs in defeat. “I just- I called her brilliant, that’s it.”

“Oh, Prongs, you might as well have gotten down on a knee and proposed!” Sirius claps him on the back before laughing at his best friend’s humiliation once more. Remus and Peter’s laughter grows with Sirius’ comment. James just shakes his head and heads out of the common room throwing his middle finger up to his friends.

He’d dealt with his friends joking around about his crush on Lily for years, but it was different with you.

That might be because James never told his friends about his crush on you, they just figured it out. Even before James knew.

Walking toward the black lake, wanting to get some fresh air, James stops at the sound of a familiar voice. He ducks behind a pillar.

“Snape, just leave her alone!”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that was your voice. He glances out, watching as you jog over to two other people. One of them obviously being Snape. The other James could barely make out, until Snape takes a step away from her and he realizes that she was your friend from breakfast. There’s an argument that James can’t hear from where he’s standing between you and Snape and Alyssa ducks behind you. You turn around, wanting to walk away with Alyssa before Snape pulls out his wand. 

James’ eyes widen and he reaches for his own, only to realize he left it in the common room in his quick leave. He curses himself, hoping you turn around before Snape curses you behind your back. Instead, Snape aims for Alyssa and before you can stop it or before James can sprint out from behind the pillar, Snape is holding Alyssa in the air above the water.

“Put her down!” you yell and point your wand at him. Snape can only snicker before he lets Alyssa fall right into the lake. “Lys!” You yell, knowing your friend isn’t the best at swimming. You jump in to help her out, and by the time you both are back on land, soaking wet, Snape was gone and James was helping you both out of the water. 

Once Alyssa was out first, you take James’ outstretched hand soaking his sleeves, but he doesn’t care. He makes sure you’re okay, but he’s stopped when you grab both of his arms, getting him to look you in the eyes.

“I’ll help you with that resource.” You tell him, tired of Snape bullying your friends and you. “I want this to be something that’s going to haunt Snape for years and years to come.”

James can only smile at you.

You smile back.

---

“Ok, just start again from the beginning.” You plead the four boys in front of you as you crowd around a table in the library as the 6th hour of reading resources starts. You’ve never really seen the group of friends really in action of planning their pranks, but keeping up with them as you flip through the library books you’ve all read from the shelves has been really hard.

“We want to be able to know where anyone is at any time.” Sirius says as he lays across the table, kicking his legs up in the air. You nod, looking down at the book pile in front of you as you pick up a book and toss it behind you where Remus is standing to let him put it back on the shelf.

“It only needs to be in the castle.” Peter points out, earning hums from his friends. No use for a prank resource outside of the castle, apparently. You toss two more books back.

“Oh!” You hear Remus say as you flip through pages, he glances over your shoulder, looking at the books you have. “We should have all the secret passages marked on it too!”

You sigh and add 4 books to your discard pile. You’re left with 3 books, each of them potentially having information you knew would be useful to the friend group, you just had to figure out what information. 

James slides into the seat next to you and you quickly meet his eyes. James’ sucks in a breath, not having expected to meet your eyes as he sat down. There’s a moment where James almost forgets his friends are in the room and you’re not just helping him. He only grounds himself back to reality when you turn your head, chewing on your lip nervously. “We uh, we were also thinking it can be something only we can use.”

James’ voice was quieter than he normally was, but it didn’t matter. 

You knew the perfect spell to use.

“The Homonculous Charm.” You tell the group, turning your book around and showing the marked charm to the others. “You cast it onto a blank parchment, and it tracks where everyone is around the castle, whenever, wherever, and whoever.” The group of boys in front you have different looks of astonishment. 

But, if you were being honest with yourself, you knew that Remus, Sirius, and Peter were looking at the book in your hands and James, well, he was looking right at you.

You clear your throat, hoping to push the boy’s attention off of you. “All you have to do is cast the charm on a parchment and map the place.”

“Easy!” Sirius yells, giving Peter a high five. “Let’s cast it and get to pranking Snivellus!”

“Doesn’t look like its that easy, Pads.” Remus puts his hand on Sirius’ shoulder as he reads over the page you show them.

You nod your head. “If you want a place to show up on the map, you have to actually cast the charm in the place.” There were 4 groans from the boys, and you hold back a laugh. 

“That could take weeks.” James sighs, leaning his head back in the chair. “Do you know how big this castle is?”

“It wouldn’t take weeks, maybe just a few days and I’m sure you guys can do it.” You tell them, pushing on James’ shoulder. James’ frown turns up a little at your playfulness and you’re quick to pull your attention of him. You start to pull your things together and stand up. “Now, if we’re done here-”

“Wait, where are you going?” Sirius asks, tugging on your bag. 

You swat his hand off your bag. “Leaving. I helped and now you can prank Snape to your heart’s desire.”

“To our hearts desire?” James questions, standing up to be at your height. His eyes meet yours and there’s a pause in his speech before he practically drags his eyes away, forcing himself to look at the book. “Time would go a lot faster if you helped.”

You guffaw and throw yourself into the seat again. “You have like a million friends. Can’t you trick some of them into helping you?”

“We could.” Peter shrugs and moves to stand on the other side of the table than you, placing it between the two of you.

Sirius threw his arm around Peter. “But then you wouldn’t really get revenge on Snivellus.”

Remus stood next to them, his hands buried in his jeans as he smirks. “And isn’t that what you wanted when you agreed to help?”

James joins them as well, squishing together as all four stare directly at you with various forms of mischief on their faces. “So? What do you say?”

They were right.

Screw them, but they were right.

You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. “What’s the plan?”

---

Alyssa had been laughing for what seemed like an hour as you both lay on your respective beds. You told her all about your little study session with the boys today and she apparently found it quite amusing what you’ve got yourself wrapped into. “It’s not funny, Lys.”

“Are you mad? You, being forced to spend as much time as you can with your crush and his best mates mapping the entire school to get back at Snape?” She chuckles. “This is the funniest thing that has happened to you since you blew up your book bag practicing for exams last year.”

“I don’t have a crush on James.” You groan, throwing your arm across your eyes, blocking the stray sunlight coming in from the window.

“James?” Alyssa asks seemingly confused. “I was talking about Sirius.”

You couldn’t help your snort of laughter at her comment. You knew she was joking, and she knew you were harboring secret feelings for the curly dark-haired, glasses wearing boy. “Can I just get some sleep?” You ask her, ignoring the fact it was barely dinnertime. “If I have to stay up all night mapping the castle with them, then I am sleeping now.”

“Fine by me.” Alyssa tells you, chucking a pillow at you before pulling out a book since she didn’t have plans to sleep early. You get smacked by the pillow and send a weak attempt at slinging it back at her before finally heading to bed.

---

“I’m going tonight.” James says to his friends the moment they step into the common room, making sure his voice is hushed. “If Y/N is going, then I’m going.”

His friends don’t bother hiding their laughs. “Mate, as if we would keep you from roaming the castle in private with the love of your life.” Sirius snickers, giving James a little push that has him falling onto the couch. “Besides, you only have the one invisibility cloak and last time we had 3 of us in there, Remus had his hand on my butt.”

“Remus would have his hand on your butt even if we didn’t have the cloak.” James grumbles, feeling Remus smack him in the back of the head. “Ow!” James groans, rubbing a hand on the back of his head. “Am I wrong?” He asks, only to look over and see Remus starting to lay across the couch coincidentally, or not, laying his head on Sirius’ lap. 

James rolls his eyes at his best friends before he pulls out his books, thinking he’s going to get some studying in before dinner. “You’re not going to get some sleep?” Peter asks, seeing his friend studying. James shakes his head, knowing if he tried to sleep right now, there would only be one person on his mind. 

---

This wasn’t the first time you had snuck out of the Slytherin common room, but this was the first time you were just standing around begging to be caught out of bed. You tap your foot, glancing every direction for any of the boys to come around the corner, but you didn’t see them. You were about to give up, not wanting to be caught by a professor. You had taken one step before James appears, standing right in front of you. His presence scares you and you can’t hold back the scream you release. 

James jumps at the sound. He should have figured you would’ve reacted to him taking off the cloak, but he didn’t expect you to start screaming. He jumps forward, covering your mouth with his hand as he presses you against the wall. “It’s just me! It’s James!” He whispers as loud as he can, wanting you to stop screaming but not wanting anyone else to hear. Your eyes flicker back and forth between his and when he was certain you were done screaming, he brings his hand away. He didn’t realize how close your bodies were to each other until you were looking at each other. A moment passes before James clears his throat. “Um, hi.”

The spell is broken as you shake your head, pushing him away gently and slapping his arm. “What the hell is wrong with you? Where did you even come from?”

James chuckles a bit at the situation, gripping the cloak in his hand as he puts his other on your arm to calm you down. “I’ll tell you.” He assures you. “I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to freak out.”

You just blink in confusion. James doesn’t say anything else before he throws the cloak around his shoulders, affectively leaving him as a floating head. You suck in a breath. “An invisibility cloak?” You had never seen one before. James liked looking at the amazed smile on your face, he hoped he see it again soon. 

“Who’s there!” James and you jump at the sound of a professor, obviously looking for the source of your scream from earlier. James was quick to pull you into him, wrapping the two of you in the cloak as you press your body against his. James’ arm wraps around your waist as he keeps the cloak closed and you both watch the professor pass right by, completely unaware of your presence.

James gives it a few minutes before he pulls the cloak off, slowly letting go of your waist. You exhale heavily, taking a step back from James. The two of you stand awkwardly next to each other, neither of you truly knew what to say to each other. 

“Nice cloak.” Your voice was higher than you’d like it to be but, in your defense, the closeness you had to James was still high on your mind.

James hoped the night light had hidden the blush on the cheeks that he knew was going to be there. “Thanks- Thank you.” He stumbled through, avoiding looking at you.

You suck in a breath, trying to think of what to say before forcing a smile. “Should we get going?”

“Yep. Yeah, let’s just uh…” 

James’ sentence had trailed off, but it didn’t matter as he pulled out a piece of parchment paper from his pocket. You raise a brow at it and cross your arms. “Is that supposed to be for the map?” James nods. “Potter, have you seen the size of this castle? One corridor wouldn’t even fit on that page.” 

James frowns. He thought the paper he brought was large enough, but you might have a point. You roll your eyes and take him by the arm to a nearby classroom, knowing the professor kept larger pieces of parchment on hand. James hoped greatly that you didn’t notice how eager he was to remain with your arm locked with his.

“Take this.” You hand James a folded piece of parchment, and being the curious person James Potter was, he let it unfold. The parchment kept unfolding until it was taller than him and then some, hitting the ground with a soft thud. He looks at you, widening his eyes. “You wanted a map.” You remind him. “Let’s just hope this one is big enough.”

---

You let James take the lead with holding the cloak, ready to throw it over you both the moment he needed, and you would cast the spell onto the soon-to-be map. Unfortunately, you both found yourselves quite bored with the task. “How’s Quidditch?” You ask James, desperate for a distraction. 

James smiles, glad to talk about a subject he enjoys. “Amazing, as usual. Haven’t lost yet this year.”

You smirk. “Well, that’s because you’ve haven’t played Slytherin yet.”

James has to hold back a laugh. “Please,” you bite your cheek hearing James’ playful tone. “We’ll beat Slytherin next weekend just as easily as we did Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.”

“I don’t know, we got a new seeker. Heard he’s quite good.” 

“Better than me?”

You choose to glance at him, and you’re not surprised to see the cocky smile sitting pretty on his lips. This time you don’t fight the smile on your face. “I’ve never seen you play, Potter. How am I supposed to know how good you are?”

James stops walking and it takes you a moment to notice before you stop as well. “You’ve never watched a Gryffindor match before?” James looks as if his head would explode.

“I’ve never even seen a Slytherin match before.” You admit. You would admit only to yourself that you were a little embarrassed. 

James just stares at you, his mouth fallen open in pure shock. “You’re joking.” He says before you slowly shake your head. “You’re joking!” You chuckle softly, amused at his response. He shakes his head and starts walking again. “You’re coming. Next weekend, when Gryffindor beats Slytherin, I expect to see you in the stands.”

You can’t help but smile at his comment. “Yeah, we’ll see.” You say, turning down the corridor as you cast the spell again, watching the paper map out the corridor. James smiles and nudges your shoulder softly with his. 

“Come on, we’ve got a lot more to map.” He says before the two of you start down the hallway quicker, almost racing each other to the end. You both laugh as you reach the end of the hall, stopping and leaning against the walls as you catch your breaths. 

“I so won.” You say to him, despite knowing you didn’t.

James rolls his eyes affectionately. “In your dreams.” He breathes out. You look at him, holding his gaze with a smile for a few moments before the two of you hear a door open down the hall and footsteps coming. James turns the way of the sounds before he pulls the cloak over the two of you, pressing you into the wall again. 

You stop breathing as he presses you against the wall, hiding you as a professor walks down the hall, completely unaware of the two of you there. Once they are gone, James and you relax and he lets the cloak fall, but doesn’t move back. It isn’t until you glance down to the map and see something moving. You gasp. “James.” You whisper, holding it up for the two of you to watch as the map shows you the professor moving down the hall, his name remaining on the map until he walks into an uncharted area. 

James looks at the map before looking at you. “It works.”

You smile and nod, in shock that this resource was actually working. You couldn’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around his shoulders for a hug if you tried, but you also didn’t try.

James was shocked for a moment before he hugs you back, smiling and blushing over your shoulder. 

You pull away a bit embarrassed. “Sorry… I got excited.” You say, stepping away from the wall and from him.

James shook his head with a smile, obviously not minding. He clears his throat and pushes his glasses higher. “Um, should we get back to it?” He says, unable to stop the smile on his face. 

You nod, barely looking at him long enough to notice as you start walking again, holding the map up and focusing on it as James and you walk the halls until a few hours before morning. 

You yawn for the hundredth time that hour as James does as well. “I suppose we should get back.” James says, running a hand through his curly hair. 

You nod, feeling exhausted. “You four can map a few places in the day too.” You tell him during the walk back to the Slytherin common room.

James nods, knowing you’re right. The conversation finds a comfortable low again until you see the Slytherin common room ahead of you, relieved that you and James didn’t get caught. “See you tomorrow?” James asks you, his smile still on his face, only softer. You turn and look at him, matching his smile as you nod. 

“Goodnight, Potter.” You whisper, handing him the map. 

James takes the map, your fingers brushing lightly together before you drop your hand and he’s left with the tingling sensation of your touch as you turn and walk away. “Yeah. Goodnight.” He says barely loud enough for you to hear as he watches you enter your common room. He swallows thickly and looks down to the map before turning around and heading back to the Gryffindor common room. 

When he gets back, Remus and Peter were still asleep, but Sirius wakes up when he hears James comes back. “How was it?” Sirius whispers to James, not wanting to wake up his other friends. James tosses him the map, showing him how much you and him covered in the castle. Sirius looks at the large parchment and the small, yet decent sized for one night, portion of the castle mapped and nods while widening his eyes. “Good job,” He says, putting the map in his bedside table. “but you know I wasn’t asking about the map.” Sirius says with a smirk. 

James blushes in the darkness and slips into his pajamas. “It was good.”

Sirius rolls his eyes at James’ simple answer, but he’s not stupid. He can see the blush on his best friend’s face. “Fall in love with her yet?” He teases James who groans, falling into his bed. 

James stays silent, closing his eyes. “She hugged me.”

Sirius can’t help the amused chuckle as he lays back in his bed, ready to sleep again. “Well, I better be best man at the wedding.” He mumbles sleepily.

James can’t help but grin, staring at the ceiling above him until he falls asleep as well.

---

The next few days and nights happened similar to the first night, only with different pairs of the 5 of you. Sometimes you wouldn’t map out the castle, or sometimes you’d map it with Sirius or Remus. It took a few days before you and James were given the chance to go together again and unfortunately, the map was almost completed. The two of you had seen each other in the day time a lot as you started to hang out with the 4 boys, but James and you hadn’t gotten a lot, if any, alone time together. 

You were leaning against the wall at the Slytherin common room, wondering who you were going with tonight before James’ smiling face pops out of nowhere. You don’t scream like the first night, instead, you match his smile. “So, it’s me and you then?”

“You and me.” James says before offering you his elbow. You roll your eyes with a soft smile and interlock your arm with his. You walk towards one of the last corridors you have. 

“We’ll probably finish this tonight.” You say, glancing over at James.

He nods, his smile falling slightly before he looks at you and it returns. “It’s been fun.” He says and you nod. “Is it wrong that I wished we had more to map?”

You think for a moment. “I don’t think so. But we also have been mapping for almost a week straight.” You chuckle. “I think I’m ready to be done with it.” He laughs but agrees. As much as he enjoys this, it will be nice to finally have the map finished. You turn to James and narrow your eyes. “Also, I thought Peter was supposed to map with me today, you have your game tomorrow.”

“I just wanted to make sure you would come tomorrow.” James lies. He did want to make sure you’d come to watch him tomorrow, but he also wanted to make sure you and him would get some alone time again without his friends or yours breathing down his neck. 

You laugh at his comment, looking down at the map. “I promise I’ll come.” You tell him, before looking at him the same time he looks at you. 

For a moment, with your closeness, the two of you just stand there, staring at each other before James’ eyes move down to your lips. 

For a moment, you think he might kiss you.

Until he clears his throat and looks away. 

You feel a little embarrassed, but you don’t let it show. You start walking again, James and you falling into a weird silence as James screams at himself in his head. He keep taking glances at you, but you don’t look at him, not until you reach the new corridor and you pull out the map. “Here, help me out?” You say, handing him one of the ends of the map, needing to find the corridor on this map to map it. James takes it and holds it out as the two of you look for the corridor.

“There it is.” James points to where the map had to be changed, adding flaps and such to represent the different levels of the rooms. You pull open the flap and smile when you find the corridor. 

“Perfect!” You say before folding the map carefully so you could keep that section free. James helps you, trying to keep his mind from running crazy when your fingers brush again. You cast the charm and James and you continue with mapping the castle. The conversation was simple with him. After the two of you get pass the awkwardness of your moment from before, you found it easy to talk about anything. About your family’s, your friends, your hobbies, your dreams. It seemed James and you didn’t stop talking, just like that first night, until you find yourself in front of the Slytherin common room again.

The Slytherin common room was the actual last place the map needed. The plan always being for you to take it and map it without the need for any of the boys to sneak in like they did with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff common rooms. 

“I should be finished by morning.” You assure James as you fold the map and slip it into your robes. He nods, his smile pulling up on one side as he pushes up his glasses. 

“Well, you can give it to me at the game. Tomorrow. 9 am.”

You bite your lip as you smile and nod. “Goodnight, Potter. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You whisper before leaning up and kissing his cheek. James just stood there stunned as you chuckle lightly and run off to your common room.

It was only when he hears the door close that he’s pulled from his trance. He calls out your name, but it was too late. He runs a hand over his face, making sure not to touch his cheek you’ve just kissed before he throws the cloak over himself and heads back to his room. He was going to try and get a few hours before his game, but now, he knows he won’t.

---

James was bouncing the next morning as he stands on the Quidditch Pitch, preparing for the game and looking around the stands for you. 

“Turns out when you don’t go to any games, you don’t really know where to sit.”

James turns around fast at the sound of your voice, surprised to see you down here and not in the stands. He chuckles, shaking his head as he walks over to you. “I thought you weren’t coming for a moment.”

You smile at him and lean against the wall. “Yeah, I made a promise.” James nods, walking until he was right in front of you and smiling at you. He had sweat in his hair from his pre-game practice and his uniform was a little dirty, but he made it work. You take a deep breath and reach into your bag. “I finished it.” You pull out the map, showing him the completed Slytherin common room before holding it out to him.

As soon as James grabs the map, you pull it toward you, affectively pulling his as well until you put a hand on his shoulder and kiss him. When he doesn’t kiss back, you let go of him and the map, your eyes wide as you stumble backwards a little. “I’m sorry. I- I- I thought-“

But you don’t get to finish your sentence because once James gets over his shock at the revelation that you were really kissing him, he puts his hand on your waist and pulls you back, letting the map fall to the floor as he holds you close and kisses you deeply.

You swear that the stands were cheering for the two of you, not for the game was soon to start. 

“Oi!” Sirius’ teasing voice calls out from behind James as you both separate and look behind him, seeing Sirius’ grin as he leans against his broom. “Are we going to play or not?”

James gives him the middle finger as you slap his hand down playfully, keeping his hand in yours. James chuckles and looks back at you before he picks up the map and looks at it. “Why don’t you keep this safe for a bit longer. Wouldn’t want it to fall into someone else’s hands, now would we? You can watch everyone in the castle with this.”

You take the map before shrugging. “Well, almost everyone.”

James furrows his brows in confusion for a moment before sighing and grinning. “You’re the exception, aren’t you?”

You smile and pat his chest.  “You think I’m going to give you, James Potter, a map to where I am every moment of the day? You must be mad.” James just grins at you before your eyes widen excitedly. “Oh! Something else!” You say before turning the map over, showing James the cover of the map you created for them.

James was shocked as he looked at it, not knowing I had done something like that for them. He reads the words before chuckling. “The Marauders?” 

You blush and shrug. “Figured it was better than calling you lot the Merry Men.” 

James hums. “I thought I was Robin Hood?” 

“Face it,” You chuckle before joking, “I’m Robin Hood.” 

James nods slowly as he puts his hands on your waist again, pulling you against him. “Alright, alright.” He says before leaning towards you again and stealing another kiss which you happily accept. James chases your lips for a second moment as you two separates before he reaches into his bag. “Maybe you could keep something else safe for a bit too?”

You watch him, not knowing what he was grabbing before he grabs out another one of his jerseys and holds it up to you. “James-“

“Wear my jersey.” He interrupts you and you have to look away and smile. He sees the smile before he steps forwards and slips the jersey over your head, helping you get your arms through before stepping back and enjoying the sight. 

“Go win your game.” You say to him, reaching forward and squeezing his hand. “I’ll find you afterward.”

James squeezes your hand back before slowly walking backwards with a goofy grin. “Well, you have the map, love. Should be easy.” He gives you wink before he runs off,  meeting up with Sirius who throws his arm over his shoulder to tease him. 

You laugh as you watch them before heading up to the stands where Remus and Peter were, neither of them surprised to see you in James’ jersey.

And when Gryffindor wins against Slytherin, none of them are shocked to see James point at you in the stands as he smiles. 

•

Don't come at me if I don't really know how the charm works, I had a cute idea and went with it lol.

[sluttywoozi]

Nothing Better | lch x reader

A day at the pool is the perfect thing to remind you just how hot your boyfriend is (as if you could ever forget).

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~5.2k | Pairing: lch x reader | Genre: smut

Warnings: oral r and m receiving, face sitting, fingering, multiple orgasms, prone bone, creampie, breeding kink but just the cum part, cockwarming

Reader Notes: wears a one piece, has a vagina, wap, cries a little

You’re starting to wonder if maybe going to the pool wasn’t your best idea. 

It’s not that you don’t like the water - you love to swim - and it’s not that you don’t like the sun (when you have sunscreen on), it’s just that your boyfriend looks a little too good all wet and glistening. You can’t seem to take your gaze off of him, and neither can what feels like half the people here. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling at least a little territorial, though you know very well that Chan doesn’t have eyes for anyone but you. It’s obvious in the way he keeps glancing over at you from his floatie, checking to make sure you’re still where he left you and smiling softly when he sees that you are. 

You’re reading on your tablet, having bought a waterproof case just for this weekend trip, your elbows resting on the ledge and your body submerged in the water. He wanted to get some more sun before it set and you’re trying to avoid the very same, so you retreated to the shady end of the pool while he floated out to the sunny side. 

There are children splashing around and shouting but you’ve managed to tune them out, your focus locked on your book as it starts to build up to the climax. You haven’t gotten a lot of reading done so far, not with most of your attention on Chan, but you don’t mind that at all. You like to concentrate on being with him when you’re together, like to stay present and soak in every moment, especially since he started at his new job a few months ago. 

He’s been working so hard, putting in long hours and taking on extra projects in an effort to prove himself, but finally, he took a day off and proposed using the long weekend for a staycation. You’re only about an hour from both of your apartments but the hotel is swanky, the beds are cushy, the pool is warm, and you have Chan to yourself. 

You can tell he needed the break by the lax set of his shoulders and the unburdened curve of his smile, a stark difference to his demeanor just yesterday. His laughter comes easier too, you can hear it from across the pool as he joins a few kids in a diving contest, tossing neon pool toys into the shallow end and clapping for them every time they burst up with their treasure in hand. 

They toss the toys into the deep end and you watch as he cuts through the water, his muscled arms propelling him forward before he dips below the surface. It’s a matter of seconds before he shoots back up, holding four of the neon sticks with one hand and smoothing his soaking hair back with the other. 

You know you’re staring but you can’t help it, he’s just so toned and tanned and luscious looking, drenched with pool water and grinning bright enough to overpower the sun. Fuck, why does your boyfriend have to be so hot…

Not that you’re complaining. Far from it, in fact. You know how lucky you are to have found love in someone who’s as beautiful as they are kind, as sexy as they are smart, as handsome as they are funny. Chan is close to perfect, but that’s not why he’s perfect for you. 

It’s because he’s the kind of person who will cut short their relaxation time to play games with kids they don’t know. Because he’ll listen to and empathize with your problems before offering to help you find a solution and comforting you if there is none. Because he’s taken the time to learn you inside and out, dedicated himself to loving you and only you, made promises to you and actually fought to keep them. 

You trust him with your life, your heart, your body, and you know he feels the same way. 

All of that, unfortunately, just makes him even hotter in your eyes. 

Hot enough that though you’re nearing the most important part of your book, you’re wondering if you can drag him out of the pool and back up to the room. There are things you want to do to him and you can’t do any of them here. 

Thankfully, he’s started to wade over, tugging the floatie behind him and waving at you with an affectionate grin. You set your tablet on the edge of the pool and wave back, beaming as he approaches. 

“Hi baby,” he says happily when he arrives, leaning in to kiss your cheek and not even cringing when his lips meet sunscreen instead of bare skin. 

“Hi Channie, do you wanna head up soon?” You ask, hoping he’ll catch the undertone of desire in your voice. 

He doesn’t. 

“Maybe in like an hour? I want to swim some more, is that okay?” He asks so innocently that you don’t have the heart to tell him you want to swallow his cock then ride him into the sunset. 

“Sure, yeah, that’s fine,” you nod placidly, pasting on a fake smile and praying he’ll take it for a real one. 

He doesn’t. 

“What’s wrong?” His brow furrows in concern, his hand wrapping around your upper arm and his thumb brushing over your skin. 

“I just- I, um…” You lean in close to him and cup your hand around his ear, whispering, “You look so hot and I want your dick in my mouth, to be honest.”

“Oh,” He breathes heatedly, his hand tightening on your arm before he lets it slip down, his fingers tangling with yours. “We should go then. We should go right now.”

You just barely grab your tablet with your free hand before he drags you over to and up the stairs, pulling you behind him but walking carefully so neither of you slip. You gather your things up quickly, drying off as best you can before he takes your hand again and guides you around the pool to the small lobby of elevators. The kids wave at him as he goes and he distractedly waves back, still ushering you forward. 

You think he’d be jogging if the pool rules allowed it. 

The air in the elevator is tense, and if the walls weren’t made of glass, you know you’d be pressed up against one of them with his lips on yours. As it is, you can only squeeze his hand while it’s rising, standing next to him as it shoots up to the fifteenth floor and opens with a ding. 

“Do you have the key?” He asks urgently, watching as you dig through your bag to find the thin plastic card. You pull it free of the inner pocket and hold it to the mechanism, waiting for it to turn green. As soon as you hear the click of the lock, you’re pushing open the door and tugging Chan through, barely waiting for it to shut to turn and pull him into a kiss. 

He tastes like chlorine but you couldn’t care less, all you care about is getting his tongue in your mouth and your hands on his body. His abs tremble under your fingertips with every shaky breath he draws in, and they tense into a six pack when you sink to your knees. 

“Baby, you really want to?” He confirms, knowing that your gag reflex is more than a little bit sensitive and wanting to make sure you’re comfortable. 

“Yes, Chan, I really want to,” you murmur, your eyes already locked on the growing bulge in his swim shorts as you start to pull them down, letting gravity do the rest of the work. His dick bobs free and you catch it with one hand, your fingers wrapping around the base and squeezing tight as you guide it to your open mouth. 

You begin with gentle licks to the head, your tongue dragging over his sensitive skin and lapping at the ridge where it connects to the shaft, your eyes coasting up his body to find his half lidded and already on you. 

Now that you know he’s watching, you start to feed his cock into your mouth, moaning when you finally feel the weight of him on your tongue. He echoes you, groaning softly and gazing at you as he reaches the back of your throat. You can’t take him any further, but you know you don’t have to deepthroat him to make it good, not when you’ve made him cum like this before. 

He takes in a shuddering breath and rests his hand on your head when you start to bob up and down, swearing and fighting to keep his eyes open as you suction your cheeks around him. You fall into an easy rhythm and let your hand follow your mouth, stroking what you can’t swallow with a tight grip. 

You don’t know why you don’t do this more often. Having Chan at your mercy feels almost as good as his cock in your mouth does, and the knowledge that you’re bringing him pleasure is enough to make you feel it too. Your pussy is starting to throb with it, your clit beating in time with your heart as you grip his plush ass with your free hand, pulling him into you and taking him just a bit deeper. 

“Feels so good, baby,” he sighs blissfully, his fingers clenching in your hair when you suck up to the tip and swirl your tongue around the head. You hum in response, the vibrations making him groan and tilt his head back, highlighting the tantalizing arch of his neck and the sharp edge of his jawline. 

He doesn’t keep his eyes off you for long, his chin tucked to his chest as he watches you lap at the precum seeping out. It’s salty and bitter but you don’t mind the taste, knowing it means you’re doing a good job. 

Too good, apparently, because he cups your cheek and murmurs, “Baby, I don’t wanna cum without you.” 

Your knees are starting to ache anyway, so you press one last openmouthed kiss to the head of his cock and release him. He takes your hands and helps pull you up off the floor, leaning in and connecting his lips with yours, uncaring of the fact that his dick was just in your mouth. 

Chan’s a sweetie like that, though his kiss doesn’t stay sweet for long. He lets go of one of your hands and cups your neck, his thumb pressed to your pulse as he sucks your tongue into his mouth and moans around it. 

You’re sure he can feel your heart racing but you’re past being shy about his effect on you, know he loves to feel the physical evidence of your desire for him. He could feel even more if he slipped his other hand into your one piece, but it’s still tangled up with yours and you hate being the one to pull away. 

Chan knows this and gently untwines his fingers to grip your hip and steer you to the bed. You’re about to let him tip you back when you remember the fact that you just came up from the pool, pulling away to say breathlessly, “Chan, we’re still soaking wet, we need to get these suits off and hang them up.”

His mouth quirks in a fond half smile in response, the playful roll of his eyes soft and his hands even softer when he uses them to start pushing you toward the bathroom. He practically frog marches you to the sliding barn door, stopping only to swipe his trunks off the floor and working his fingers under the straps of your bathing suit as soon as you step foot on the tile. 

You hold onto his shoulders for stability as he peels the wet fabric down, sinking your fingers into his still-dripping hair when he kneels and presses his cheek to your stomach. 

“Let’s shower fast, I want you to sit on my face asap,” he sighs contentedly, smooching the soft skin of your belly before rising to his feet with your swimsuit in hand. 

You’re struck silent as heat floods your stomach and your cheeks, and he pinches one gently as he laughs, “What, you can be blunt but I can’t?” 

“You can be as blunt as you want if you keep saying things like that,” you assure him, reaching over to turn the shower on and fighting back the shiver that threatens to roll down your spine. 

“In that case…” He wraps his arms around you and brings you into his chest, warming you with his body heat. “I’ve wanted your thighs wrapped around my head since you climbed into my car in that sundress this morning.”

“Why’d we go straight to the pool, then?” You wonder, mystified. 

“You were so excited about your new waterproof case and getting to relax. I didn’t want to ruin the vibe with my dirty thoughts,” he pouts, reaching around you to feel the water and pushing aside the curtain so you can climb into the tub.

“Babe, I have literally never felt more relaxed than I do when you make me cum,” you admit to him as you step under the flow of the shower, tilting your head back to avoid getting your hair wet. “Your dirty thoughts can only enhance the vibe, not ruin it.”

“You promise?” He asks as he joins you in the tub, shielding you from the water. He pumps some body wash into his palm from the wall dispenser before sudsing his hands up and starting to glide them over your body. 

You hum happily and murmur, “I promise, Chan.”

Your eyes fall shut but you can still sense him smiling as he scrubs your skin free of sunscreen and chlorine. You feel fresh and clean and slightly dazed by the time he nudges you back under the water before stepping around you and beginning to clean himself off. You wake up enough to wash his back for him, spending an inordinate amount of time on his toned shoulders and digging your fingers into the knots that plague him from hours spent hunched in front of a computer. 

He rinses himself quickly and shuts the water off, grabbing a towel from the rack and carefully dabbing you dry before swiping the cotton over his own skin and stepping out of the tub. You know Chan gets out before you so he can catch you if you slip, and you can’t suppress the smile that ticks up the corners of your mouth as you climb over the ledge with his hands holding yours. 

He doesn’t release his hold even when you’ve got two feet on the tile, immediately guiding you back to the bedroom and letting go only to hold your hips as you set a knee on the bed and crawl on. 

“Don’t get too comfy yet,” he reminds you, leaping up and twisting to land onto his back midway up the bed. It would be funny if he weren’t eyeing you so heatedly, if you didn’t know exactly what’s about to happen. 

But with his pretty lips parted and his hands covetous as they reach for you, there’s no mistaking his eagerness for humor. You take in a shaky breath while you shuffle closer, your hands pressed to the mattress as you lift your knee up and settle it on the other side of his neck, leaving you straddling his face. 

“Now you can get comfortable, baby,” he says softly, his breath flowing out over your sensitive folds. His eyes are locked between your legs, and as you start to let yourself relax, he lays his tongue out, humming in satisfaction when your pussy finally makes contact with his taste buds. 

Chan eats you out often but hardly ever like this, mainly because you find it difficult to completely let yourself go and just feel. You’re always worried about smothering him or being too heavy or if he’s really enjoying it, no matter how much he reassures you. 

But there’s something about this time. 

Maybe it’s the way his eyes slipped closed as soon as his tongue touched you, like you’re a delicacy he’s privileged to taste. Maybe it’s how he’s gripping your hips and pulling you down, like he wants you to smother him. Maybe it’s the near constant moan vibrating against you, like there’s nothing he’d rather be doing than this. 

Whatever it is, you think you finally believe him. 

Which is why your thighs untense, letting you rest fully on his face as you bend over and prop yourself up on your elbows, sinking into the feeling. 

He just groans in encouragement and wraps his arms around you, digging his fingertips into your skin and urging you to grind. You roll your hips once, whimpering at the sensation of his nose pressing into your clit as his tongue slides inside of you, and that’s enough to get you going. 

You set a gentle pace, sliding in little movements back and forth, barely even registering the obscene sounds of Chan’s mouth at work between your thighs. They’re muffled by your body and before long, they become background noise to the ringing in your ears and the rush of your blood pumping in your veins as he devours you. 

He doesn’t let up for even a second, shifting his focus instead, his lips wrapping around your clit and sucking in pulses. His tongue taps at the bud incessantly, his moans urgent as if he’s wordlessly begging you to let your release find you. 

It’s slow going but you can feel it creeping up on you, your climax rolling in like fog on a chilly morning as you try to beckon it closer in your mind. It pulls you in instead, its blissful vines coiling around you as he whines and whimpers into your pussy. 

Finally, the pleasure takes root, blooming within you gently at first before unfurling with ardor, stealing the air in your lungs and the thoughts in your head. Your head falls and your eyes flutter shut, and soon enough, all you can do is kneel there and tremble through the barrage of feelings, the softness of his tongue and the heat of his breath and the reverberations of his groans rendering you helpless. 

You’re still shaking by the time you regain the ability for complex thought, and the first thing you do is attempt to climb off of him. 

Except Chan doesn’t let you go, he just shakes his head and wraps one arm tighter around your body, bringing the other behind you to prime two fingers at your entrance. He doesn’t even bother speaking, simply grunting around your clit and starting to sink his fingers inside, the slickness of your cunt enough to let them glide. 

You melt into him with a moan, reaching one hand down to tangle your hand in his hair and pull as your back arches, trying to guide his fingers to that one spot inside as if he doesn’t always find it on his own. 

And find it, he does, his fingertips grazing the erogenous patch and beckoning forth a little burst of arousal that you just know is seeping down his chin. He’ll need another shower after this but you can’t find it in yourself to care, not when he immediately starts building you up again with his mouth around your clit and his fingers buried inside of you. 

Your hips respond to his thrusts without your permission, rolling into his every touch, and for the first time, you actually find yourself riding his face. He moves with you, whimpering continuously into your pussy as if he’s feeling your pleasure like it’s his own. 

Your head starts to spin, the blaze of white hot euphoria licking at your spine and heating your skin, making sweat prickle where he grips you like a lifeline as he voluntarily drowns himself in you. 

Everything zeroes down to the point of connection between your body and his, the only thing on your mind being the high that’s just out of your reach. It’s just a matter of time with his fingers grinding into your sweet spot and his lips wrapped around your clit, with his whines vibrating against you and his skin pressed to yours. 

You know he wants you to cum, and that’s part of what’s getting you so close. Chan loves to give you pleasure, views it as both his duty as your boyfriend and his privilege as a man, and he always feels a sense of accomplishment when he can get you there more than once. He’s also just a generous person, a giver, and that doesn’t change when it comes to being with you. 

It’s not that you’re not a giver too, it’s just that you know how to take. 

You know how to take the bliss he insists you feel, how to take his mouth and his fingers and eventually, his cock. You know how to take everything he wants to give you, and that’s why you work so well together. 

It’s like you don’t need words anymore, not when you can read his actions just as well. 

And with his actions, he’s telling you to stop thinking and just feel, just let him guide you over that edge, which is absolutely something you can do. 

It doesn’t take much at all to clear your mind, a curl of his fingers and a pulse of his lips around your clit sweeping your thoughts away, leaving you muddled with sensation. You hiccup in a breath and sigh out a shaky moan, your thighs trembling on either side of his face as you near the drop off once more. 

You let it happen, let him push you off the edge into the deep end and welcome the waves of bliss that wash over you. They’re more powerful than the last, blanking out every word in your brain but his name, all of your focus centered between your legs where he’s still hard at work. 

He pushes you through it, digging his fingers into your sweet spot and groaning around your clit as his hand squeezes at your hip. A hot rush of arousal leaves you, and he’s quick to slide his fingers out and open his mouth to catch it. 

His tongue swipes at your entrance, dipping in and out as he drinks you down, his body shuddering under yours at the feeling of your fluttering pussy. 

By the time it’s over, you can barely hold yourself up. Chan seems to sense this and pulls himself out from under you, gently tugging at your legs until they lay straight with you resting on your stomach. 

You feel his touch on your back, a gentle hand rubbing up and down softly as he comes to rest at your side, nosing at your hairline. 

“So good, baby. Just what I wanted,” he murmurs to you, and you pick your head up and turn it to face him, blinking bleary eyes at his flawless visage. 

“Want your dick in me,” you mumble thickly, watching as his eyebrows furrow contemplatively. 

“You’re not too tired?” He questions, and you try to respond but you can only look at his lips and the sheen of you on them. 

“So what if I am? Maybe I wanna fall asleep on your cock,” you finally say, half playful, half truthful. 

“Like… cockwarming? Would you really wanna do that?” He asks eagerly, and you grin a teasing little grin, happy to have unlocked one of his secret desires. 

“Yeah, Chan, I would really wanna do that,” you confirm. “Maybe even today… after you fuck me?”

“Okay,” he beams, pressing a kiss to your nose before springing up with a shocking amount of energy and climbing atop you. 

He straddles your hips and sets both hands on your ass, pushing the cheeks apart to expose your pussy to his searching eye. He releases one side to grab his cock and line himself up, slowly beginning to push inside and choking out a breath as he feels your warm wetness wrap around him. 

Chan is the perfect size for you, not too big or too thick, but just enough that there’s a slight stretch every single time. You fit him like a glove, like puzzle pieces meant to interlock, and somehow, every time he slides inside of you makes you feel like you’re the home that welcomes him after a long time away. 

He bottoms out and it’s like you can finally breathe, even as he stretches himself out on top of you and tucks your hands under his, weaving your fingers together and holding tight.  

You’re completely surrounded by him and that’s enough to have you relaxing into the bed, the only muscles activated in your body being the ones holding your ass up for him as he rolls his hips back and sends them forward again. 

You love having him this close as he takes you apart, being able to feel his strength in the muscled arms stretched along yours and the toned chest pressed to your back has you wanting him even closer. Given the chance, you just might climb into his rib cage and squeeze right in next to his big, luscious heart. That might be a little much though, so for now you’ll content yourself with being smothered by his perfect body. 

The feeling of his dick pressed against your walls to root deep has you reeling, making you thankful for the grip of his hands over yours, the weight of them serving as a reminder that he’s here and he’s got you.

He sets up a smooth, easy tempo, one that reminds you of ocean waves pushing onto and then receding from the shore, filling you with his cock again and again. You miss him every time he leaves but he returns before the emptiness starts to ache, the ebb and flow of him as constant as the tide. 

“‘s this what you wanted, baby?” He murmurs into your neck, waiting for your nod to continue to speak. “Gonna let me fill you up? Gonna let me stay inside?” 

“Yeah, Channie, want you to fill me up and stay inside me,” you whimper, squeezing your inner muscles around him to emphasize your words, the tight clutch of your cunt making him tremble above you. 

“Fuck,” you hear him bite out just before his hips scoop on the next stroke in, the angle allowing his cock to graze your sweet spot. Pleasure zips up your spine, sharp and electric, making your back arch and your pussy clench. 

He notices the way you push back into it and begins to aim every thrust there, ensuring that he drags against the internal patch of nerves as often as he can. He’s still going slowly, his movements almost sedate though there’s an intensity to them, one that you know will be enough to undo you. 

Chan always gets you there, even on nights where it’s harder to climb that hill, nights where you’re distracted or stressed or anxious. You reach for him on nights like that anyway, knowing that soon enough, he’ll have you so blissed out that you’ll forget what was wrong in the first place. 

Nothing could be wrong today, and that makes everything even better, makes his name on your lips taste sweeter, his body on top of yours feel broader, and his cock inside of you hit deeper. It almost feels like he’s reaching the end of you every time his hips buck into yours, the dull smack barely audible with his gasping breaths and shuddering groans in your ear. 

The medley of it all has you feeling dizzy, rapturous, like pure affection and desire and devotion are welling up inside you. They’re rapidly running out of room, your chest only so big compared to your love-soaked heart, and there’s little you can do to quell the overflow as it streams from your eyes in tender tears. 

You try to swallow down the sob that aches to be let out but your lungs trip on it anyway, and Chan just coos and burrows closer to you with a sweet kiss on the cheek. He knows this means you’re getting close and that he shouldn’t do anything but keep going, though you wonder if he knows that it’s unlikely you’ll cum from just his cock. 

He does, of course he does, extricating one of his hands from yours and sliding it down under your body and between your legs. His fingers gather the arousal he’s pushed out with his dick and smear it up to your clit, beginning to rub slow, gentle circles that match the push and pull of his hips. 

The feeling is instantaneous, a syrupy burning starting up low in your pelvis before gathering in your stomach, your pussy responding to the sensation by fluttering around him and trying to suck him in deeper. 

He doesn’t stop, just maintains his slow and steady pace, patiently working you up to your third orgasm and sucking kisses along the curve of your throat, murmuring to you, “Please cum, baby, please cum for me. It’s gonna feel so good, I know you can do it. When you cum, I’ll cum too, okay? I’ll fill you up with my cum and I’ll stay inside and when we wake up, we’ll do it all over again.”

And what can you do with him begging like that, with his dulcet voice and steadily rolling hips and expert fingers on your clit, except exactly what he wants? 

With a whimper you fall to pieces beneath him, euphoria flowing through your veins and dousing your nerve endings, blanking out everything in your mind but his name. It falls from your lips like a spell, like an incantation urging him to shatter with you, the chant constant even as your lungs plead for air. 

But it works. 

It works and he bursts with a low cry, his cock twitching against your undulating walls, a warmth flooding you deep within as his cum paints your insides white. He trembles above you, the muscles that have been holding him up weakened by pleasure, and soon enough he completely sinks into you, weighing you down to the bed. 

“That was so good, baby… Love you so much… Now let’s sleep,” he slurs quietly, just barely shifting to the side so he’s not suffocating you, though he leaves his still hard, still throbbing, still leaking cock buried inside of you. 

Normally that would keep you awake, but days at the pool are always draining and you did just cum three times, so you think a little sleep would do you good. 

When Chan’s arms snake around you and tug you tighter into his chest, you giggle weakly and murmur, “Love you, Chan,” before letting your eyes slip closed and following him into slumber. 

AN: Woohoo!! this started as interlude no. 10 a few months ago but i got like 2k in and lost inspo for it. i picked it back up this week and here we are!

thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed!! i am eager to know your thoughts and feelings 🙏

[shanastoryteller]

The day his deal comes due, Sam goes missing.

Dean tells himself it’s nothing, that he’s gotten caught up in some research, some last ditch, hail mary nonsense and that he’s just turned his phone off and everything’s fine, that he wouldn’t do something stupid, that he wouldn’t break his promise.

He tells himself that for the first two minutes after he cracks his eyes open and sees the empty bed across from him, and the first time his call goes straight to voicemail, and not much after that. Sam’s broken his promises over things significantly less important to him than his brother’s life.

Dean is dressed and in the Impala five minutes later, heart thudding wildly in his chest. He calls Bobby, Ellen, everyone he can think of, but none of them have heard from Sam, none of them have eyes on him. Sam was with him last night, even if he boosted a car, there’s only so far he can get.

He keeps calling, keep searching, desperate to stop whatever he’s trying to do, to find him, to see his brother one last time before he’s dragged to hell. To make sure Sam is going to be okay after he’s dragged to hell. But the hours tick down, the sun sets, and he can’t find a trace of him. He’s so exhausted and heart sick that when he goes to call Sam again it takes him a long time to read the number on his phone, eyes swimming, the time not making any sense.

1:03

That’s not possible.

That’s not –

His phone rings, blocking out the time with Bobby’s name across the screen, and he answers it but his throat is too thick to say anything.

“Dean?” Bobby says tentatively. “Are you – I got an email from Sam. It just said, I mean, did–“

“What did it say, Bobby?” he asks, even though he’s sure he knows.

Bobby sucks in a breath at his voice, because he knows just as well as Dean that he should be screaming in hell right now, not answering his phone. “To take care of you.”

Dean drops the phone, hears Bobby still talking as he grips the wheel and presses his forehead against the back of his hands. This is what he’d been afraid of. This is why he hadn’t wanted to mess with the deal in first place. This is the one thing he’d begged Sam not to do.

It's easy to find a crossroad.

The demon is laughing at him when it shows up, wicked grin in a pretty face. “That didn’t take you long, boy.”

It’s a different demon than the one he delt with, obviously, but Dean figures they all know the same shit, since demons are a bunch of gossips. “This wasn’t the deal. My brother lives and I die.”

“You traded your soul for your brother’s life,” she corrects, so amused by all this that all he wants to do is kill her, to exorcise her, to make her scream. “Just like your father traded his for yours. There’s no reason Sammy can’t make his own trade. Man, but is your family fucked up. Maybe if you’d just settled down like little Sammy wanted, you wouldn’t all be bargaining for each other’s lives like haggling at a flea market.”

“Untrade it,” he snaps. “My soul for him alive, come on, no year, no waiting, you bring him back and take me to hell right now.”

She laughs in his face. “You don’t have anything to bargain with, boy.”

“My soul,” he repeats, “That’s what this is about, isn’t?”

“Oh, it’s what it’s all about,” she says. “But Sammy’s a clever boy. You know that, don’t you? He didn’t trade his soul for your life, he didn’t have to. You didn’t die. No, he traded it for your soul. Sorry, honey, but your credits been declined.”

At first he doesn’t understand. Sam traded his soul for Dean’s, exactly, so there’s no reason he can’t trade it right back. Then he gets it.

She sees the exact moment it clicks, the moment despair and horror sweep across his face too quickly for him to stop them. “That’s right. Little brother owns your soul now. For some reason he didn’t think you’d take proper care of it. You have it because that’s where he wants it, but no one will be making any deals with you, Dean Winchester. You can’t sell a soul you don’t own.”

“You can’t,” he has to clear his throat, “you can’t just come in and change things at the eleventh hour-”

“Eleventh hour?” she interrupts. “Sammy made his deal eleven months ago.”

His mouth is so dry he can’t speak.

“Isn’t it funny?” she asks, head cocked to the side. “All this time, the deal he’s been trying to get out of wasn’t yours, but his own. Maybe the two of you might have even managed it, except you just wouldn’t help, would you? Insisting that he not research, that he not look for a way out, and he spent so much time trying to convince you, coaxing you to talk about your feelings when he knew you were safe, all he because he thought it would make you feel better when he was gone, because he couldn’t tell you the truth and talk about how scared he was, so talking about your fear was as close as he could get.”

Dean’s going to be sick. “Don’t – please, please, I’ll give you anything-”

“You don’t have anything,” she says, gleeful. “You want to know why I agreed? The thing that made it just too delicious to refuse? Sammy’s down there, just starting in on an eternity of torture, and all he has to do get out of it is give up your soul. It’s his, after all, and he can put the original deal back in place any time he chooses. Just one moment of weakness on his end and his beloved big brother will be on the rack instead.” She sighs happily. “It’s almost as good as anything we’re doing to him down there, the knowledge that if he slips up for even a moment then it would all be for nothing. I couldn’t have found a way to twist the knife deeper if I tried.”

There’s vomit crawling its way up his throat and he has to swallow it down before he can speak. “I can’t – I’ll do whatever you want, please, there has to be something.”

She leans forward, cruelty and delight shining in her eyes. “The only thing you can do is what you’ve been telling your precious baby brother to do for the past year. Accept it. Move on. Live a good life so his sacrifice isn’t in vain.”

God. How can she – how can Sammy expect him to –

He’s doubling over, finally upchucking what little he’s ate today, and he’s dry heaving on the dirt when he hears the fading sound of her laughter.

This can’t be real. This has to be Hell, he has to be in it right now. He has to be.

[marvelfilth]

Her idiot

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: your night out with Thor and Valkyrie leaves Natasha worried unimpressed.

Masterlist

“Nat-”

“No.”

“But-”

“But no.”

“Just let me-”

“Shut up.”

Your mouth promptly snaps shut, the sound of teeth clattering echoing through the empty Compound.

You're being dragged to Natasha’s room, or you hope you are - you wouldn't put it past Natasha to lock you in one of the holding cells in the basement. You kinda deserve it. You can admit that even in your current inebriated state.

She drags you upstairs once you reach the end of the hallway, your shoes squeaking on the concrete, making you grimace with each step you make.

You're also starting to get cold.

You're not stupid enough to tell her that.

Wanda's head pokes out of her room, her eyes bleary with sleep and her expression pure confusion. Her eyes grow twice their size once she sees the state you're in. And then she laughs, shaking her head.

“You're so dead,” she whispers when you pass by and ducks back into her room lest Natasha unleashes her wrath on her.

You gulp.

Yeah.

You probably are.

Natasha halts her stride, opens the door to her room, and pushes you inside.

“You better not get any of that on my carpet,” she growls, tugging off your drenched shirt.

You're thankful you've had enough of a mind to leave your heavy winter coat by the lake before you decide to-

“Off.” Natasha gestures at your feet, putting a stop to your musings. You shrug off your dirty boots, carefully leaving them by the door. As carefully as you can, that is. The room is spinning a bit, and Natasha's face is a little blurry around the edges.

Then, she tugs down your jeans, making you wince as the harsh wet fabric slides down your legs. She looks at you, unimpressed.

“Sorry,” you whisper, hugging yourself.

You're starting to shake, a little bit. And your teeth won't stay put. Or is it your jaw?

Natasha sighs and leads you to the bathroom. It's already full of steam and the bath is full of bubbles, and you sag in relief, almost tearing off your underwear in haste to jump in.

You moan the second you sink into the warmth.

“You do know how stupid that was, right?”

You nod, wishing you could hide from her gaze.

“Then why?”

Your cheeks redden, not from the warmth, but from the sheer embarrassment. Now that you've sobered a little, none of the fun and entertaining ideas Thor and Valkyrie proposed sound fun and entertaining.

She sighs again, and starts gently threading her fingers through your hair, untangling the knots she finds there.

“You're not drinking with them ever again.”

“Okay.”

“And you're not going anywhere near that damned lake anytime soon.”

You wince at the memory of falling through the thin layer of ice after successfully making it halfway across the lake - just like Thor dared you to - and then swimming under said thin layer of ice the remaining half of the way and emerging on the other side, right in front or very angry and very concerned Natasha.

You're probably gonna-

“And you're sleeping on the couch.”

-sleep on the couch. Yep.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“You're an idiot.”

“I am.”

She snorts. “It's very hard to stay mad when you're being so pliant.”

You bite on your lower lip, keeping a bashful grin from emerging. You decide to test your luck when the fond glint in your girlfriend's eyes intensifies.

“So no couch for me, then?”

Her eyes narrow, lips pursing. “You can sleep on the floor if you'd like.”

No luck. Ugh.

“Okay. Couch it is.”

She hums, leaving your side to retrieve a warm fluffy tower. You get up, almost falling into Natasha's arms when you slip. She wraps the towel around your shoulders, holding you against her chest.

“I love you,” you mumble into the crook of her neck, your body buzzing with love, warmth and remnants of alcohol. “So much.”

“And I love you. Even when you're being an idiot, which is-”

“Always?” You interrupt with a grin, pulling away just a tad to see the expression on her face.

Her eyes sparkle in the low light, the lines of her face all soft. “Yes. Always.”

[m0chaminx]

Coriolanus Snow | Roses Grow Thorns

*•.¸♡Request: Pls pls pls do a part 2 too the snow x reader fix it was so amazing and I want more of them 🙏🙏🙏🙏‼️‼️🩷

*•.¸♡Prompts: none

*•.¸♡Warnings: Coriolanus, Cori isn't insane (ish), Snow is slight ooc, jealousy, hurt comfort, fluff ending

*•.¸♡Paring: Coriolanus Snow x F!reader

*•.¸♡Summary: Coriolanus learns his favourite flower grows thorns

Or

You confront Coriolanus about his relationship with Lucy Gray

*•.¸♡Words: 2k

Part 1

People danced, swaying with their partners in a circle as you stood on stage, strumming your guitar and singing to the crowd. Lucy had just finished the first half of her set, so you took the stage to fill the silence. Coriolanus sat with Sejanus at a table across the room, large glasses of some sort of liquor. Coriolanus looked up at you and smiled.

If you like your coffee hot

Let me be your coffee pot

You call the shots, babe

I just wanna be yours

Your voice trailed off slightly as Lucy raced to Coriolanus and Sejanus, throwing her arm around his shoulder and leaning between them. You shook your head and continued to play, trying to ignore Lucy Gray practically hanging from Coriolanus’s arm.

Jealousy, an unwelcome guest, clawed at the edges of your heart, leaving an ache in your chest. No words had been exchanged, and no actions had passed between you two. It overtook the corners of your mind, urging you to believe that Lucy Gray should sense the unspoken connection threading its way between you and Coriolanus.

Each shared trip to the lake, every stolen moment when Coriolanus chose to spend his fleeting free hours with you — these fragments of time saved in your mind like photos in an old book. Yet, as you observed Lucy Gray standing there, a vision of radiant smiles and hushed confidences exchanged with Coriolanus, a wave of emotion surged. It was as if the world momentarily lost its colour, and the whispers of uncertainty left an indelible mark on your heart.

You clenched your hand, trying to ease the shaking in your hands.

Secrets I have held in my heart

Are harder to hide than I thought

Maybe I just wanna be yours

Every night for the past week following that evening, Coriolanus Snow would tap gently on the glass of your window. You would turn your head and he would smile, the same bright smile that made your stomach flip and fill with butterflies. You crept across the wood floors and opened the window, looking down at the blue-eyed boy. “Are you busy?”

You would simply laugh at him. You grabbed your coat and slipped out the window, Coriolanus gripping your waist to help you down properly. He would smile, slip a scarf under the window to close it without locking it and you would slip away unnoticed, descending into the velvety embrace of the night.

In those quiet moments, Coriolanus would slip your hand in his own, his warm hand covering yours as he laced your fingers together. He guided you through the dense labyrinth of woods, you knew these woods better than he did but through the nights as he led you to the lake, you questioned if you ever knew them at all. 

The Mokingjays sang into the night as if calling to the small fireflies to light the way. “I brought matches,” Cori said, looking back at you. He tugged on your hand bringing you closer and you couldn't help but think about Lucy Gray running her hand along his shoulders. “We can light a fire. Maybe catch some fish.” You nodded and Coriolanus smiled.

You reached the lake and Coriolanus set his bag down, quickly gathering everything to start a fire. You walked to the edge of the water, your mind running faster than you could even start to comprehend. “Think we’ll catch anything?” He asked, stopping to look up at you.

You looked back over the water, looking at the fish no bigger than your palm swimming just above the sea floor. You shook your head, keeping your eyes on the moonlight dancing on the waves of the water. “Nothing big enough to eat,” You said. Coriolanus nodded and turned back to the fire.

Once the fire was made you sat on the ground beside him, leaving enough space so your shoulders didn’t touch. You both sat in silence, Coriolanus’s knee bouncing softly. 

The flames danced and flickered, the golden glow flickering in Coriolanus’s blue eyes, you settled onto the ground beside him. You shifted slightly, making sure your shoulders didn't touch. The silence stretched between you, Coriolanus's fingers drumming against a stick he held in nervousness.

Coriolanus's knee bounced softly, mirroring the unsteady rhythm of both your hearts. The mere inches that separated you felt like an unbridgeable chasm, as long and confusing as his thoughts. “Did I do something?” His voice cut through the silence like a knife and you turned towards him, your eyebrows furrowed. “You seem distracted. You’re not talking like you usually do. You’re sitting far away.” You bit your lip and shrugged softly. “What’s wrong?”

“What did I sing tonight?” You turned to face Coriolanus. “Tonight. I sang, I wore the red dress so everyone could see the white rose you gave me. But what did I sing?” Coriolanus stammered. “You don’t spare a second glance at me during our shows, you talk to Sejanus when I do perform and you let Lucy Gray hang off your arm like she was yours.”

He spoke your name softly, trying to shuffle closer but you stood quickly. “Don’t do that Cori,” You pleaded. “I’m gonna go home, I’ll see you later.” You turned on your heel. Making your way back through the woods.

Coriolanus sighed, dropping his head into his hands as you walked from his view.

The next morning you stared at the ceiling, stretched out on your small bed. You twisted a small rose between your fingers, the thrones pricking your skin occasionally. The knock at the window made you jump. You turned your head to look at Coriolanus standing on the other side, smiling ever so slightly. You sighed and set the rose aside before walking to the window and pulling it open. “Corio-”

“Don’t talk,” he said quickly. “Don’t say anything, just follow me.” 

“Cori-”

“What did I just say?”

A frustrated huff escaped you as you forcefully closed the window, shutting out the annoying sounds of crickets. Pulling the blinds closed with a swift motion covering Coriolanus’s face, but you caught his smile dropping. You donned your jacket and stepped out the front door, stopping in front of Coriolanus just as you turned the corner. He extended his hand, a warm smile playing on his lips. Suppressing the annoyance that still simmered beneath the surface, you offered a muted response, "Just lead the way," your words carrying a hint of resignation.

Coriolanus nodded and started to lead you through the woods, the sun still yet to rise properly. “You sang I Wanna Be Yours,” Coriolanus muttered. “No, I didn't ask Lucy Gray. You wrote it after you met your old girlfriend but you haven't sung it since. That’s why it was so important to you. And why you wanted me to remember it.”

You hummed and tried to hide your smile. “So you were paying attention.”

Coriolanus spoke, low and earnest, his gaze fixed on you. "I always pay attention," he assured, a sincerity etched into his words. The weight of his gaze, coupled with the firmness in his tone, sought to reassure you. "And nothing is happening between Lucy Gray and me. She was helping me with something," he explained, his words carrying the weight of truth and an unspoken plea for understanding.

“Which is?”

Coryo smiled, “Keep following me.”

You followed Coriolanus, walking in silence until the sun rose completely. He stopped at a rock wall, a small dirt trail winding around it. He reached out, slipping his hand into yours and leading you down the track. “Roses don’t grow in 12, the ground is too hard,” Coriolanus started. “Lucy Gray told me just beyond the rock wall there is ground soft enough to grow flowers. Sejanus used his father's money to get some seed and…” Coriolanus stepped aside as you reached the bottom of the track.

You smiled, Coriolanus’s hand slipping from yours as you stepped further into the growing rose field. Dozens of rose bushes had started to grow, small red and white flowers sporting. Small raindrops covered the flowers, the sun reflecting off of them like diamonds. You crouched, smiling as you ran your hand along the rose petals. 

A soft smile played on your lips, and Coriolanus's hand tenderly released yours as you ventured deeper into the growing rose field. Rows of rose bushes, adorned with tiny red and white blossoms, unfold before you, blossoming like a garden from the Capitol. Small raindrops adorned the delicate petals, capturing the sunlight in a dance that shined like diamonds. Your heart swelled. You glanced back at Coriolanus who shared the same smile.

You carefully crouched down, your smile growing as you traced the velvet texture of the rose petals with your fingertips, each delicate touch slow and careful as if the rose would fall apart. Coriolanus smiled as he watched you, his stomach filling with butterflies as he waited for you to speak. 

"Wait..." The urgency in your voice sliced through the air as you stood, swiftly pivoting to face Coriolanus. His smile disappeared, replaced by a stark seriousness mirrored in your eyes. Your heart fell to your stomach as your voice shook, "You said Sejanus got the seeds from his father. If the Peacemakers find out, they'll take you away." The gravity of your words hung heavily in the charged atmosphere. “Cori, they’ll take you to the hanging tree-”

“They won’t,” Coriolanus said quickly. He stepped forward holding your face in his hands, his thumb tracing the lines of your cheekbones. “No one is going to take me away. No one is taking you. Or Sejanus, or Lucy Gray.” You raised your hand, settling it on top of his. “This place is ours, yours and mine. No one is going to take that.”

Yours and mine.

You smiled, laughing softly as you looked up at Coriolanus, his blue eyes meeting yours. “You got me roses?” You asked.

“You said you liked the Capitol flowers more,” Coriolanus remembered. “I can’t exactly take you to the Capitol, so I thought I’d bring the best part of the Capitol here.”

“Besides yourself.”

A warm smile graced his features as he leaned in, closing the distance until his forehead gently met yours. "Do people in the Capitol kiss differently than the districts?" His inquiry, spoken in a hushed tone, carried a hint of curiosity and a touch of playfulness.

“I think…” you leaned up slightly, bumping your nose against his, “you should find out.”

The brush of his fingertips against your jawline, tracing a delicate path along your skin, igniting a shiver that danced down your spine. As he cradled your face, your breath hitched in anticipation, your eyes staring at his chapped pink lips. Drawing you closer, the final shared breath seemed to linger, suspended in the charged atmosphere, before he sealed the connection with a kiss that felt like a spark that lit a fire. Your heart echoed the rhythm of the thousands of times you had dreamed of this moment and your hands instinctively wound around the back of his neck, the embrace pulling him closer.

Your stomach twirled, filling with butterflies as one of Coryo’s hands moved to wrap around your waist and pull you impossibly closer. He pulled away, his breath coming out in small pants, your breath in sync with his. You opened your eyes, looking up at his half-closed eyes tracing over every part of your face. “I love you, Coriolanus Snow.”

He whispered it back.

ﾟ°☆Page navigation

[solbaby7]

Heat of the Moment

rhysand x reader

warnings: smut, this is pure selfish indulgence, public masturbation 🫣, possible swearing, mildddd voyeurism (this batboy likes to watch, i’ll die on this hill), drunk swimming, nudity, kinda pervy!rhys if we’re being technical here, had to get it out my drafts sry

summary: When summer in Velaris becomes too hot to handle, you take it upon yourself to go swimming; naked—better hope no one’s watching.

—

Rhysand fucking hated the summer.

Sometimes he found beauty in the suns resplendent display during its rise and fall in the sky. Saw hints of the Mother nestled in the flowers proudly broadcasting their colorful beauty around the house’s perimeter—but that was about as far as his admiration ran.

Mostly due to the fact that Rhys absolutely abhorred the pulsing burn of the sun, its rays boiling ten times hotter when adorning the typical black of Night Court attire. He positively loathed the drifting pollen in the air that stuck to fine fabrics of his tailored suits and the humid breeze that forced an uncomfortable sweat to thicken against his skin.

Two fingers tug at the collar of his dress shirt; one, two, three buttons being yanked undone until a healthy amount of chest is exposed, inky tattoos on full display. “Anything?” Rhysand mentally sends Azriel’s way with more than a little bite in his tone but the shadowsinger doesn’t even flinch.

“It would appear a few of the wards are down.”

Even without physically seeing his brother, Rhys can picture the amused tilt of Azriel’s mouth to accompany his sarcastic tone. “No shit! It’s a hundred godsdamned degrees in this house.”

“Pampered High Lord can’t handle a little heat? Open a window. It’ll be fixed soon.”

Rhysand grumbles, eyes rolling when Azriel’s mental shields are rebuilt and fortified in an instant. He takes his advice though, sluggishly dragging across the room to open the double doors to his office balcony with more attitude than intended; the polished wood clanging against the walls.

It’s not the sound that captures the High Lords attention though.

It’s the female with her toes dipped in the water, back stretched out against the smoother parts of rock that surrounds the lake below. A towel is splayed over heat-kissed stone, a bottle of wine used to hold down one edge while a wicker basket full of chopped fruit and cubed cheeses, cured meats and crispy crackers holds down the other.

He knew he should've looked away when he realizes it was you. He should've turned around and put the image of you out of his mind so he could finish up the debilitating pile of paperwork that remained on his desk. There was so much to do—so many responsibilities to tend to and now with the wards out of place, who knew how long it could take to detect them all and fix it.

But Rhysand just can't tear his eyes off of you and that skimpy little bikini you adorned.

It's awfully dainty, with flimsy little straps and cute bows tied tightly against curvy hips in a pretty pastel purple that pops against sun-kissed skin. You've tied your hair up, a messy bun of a thing plopped at the top of your head with a bright scrunchie but a few stray curls fall free, teasing at the back of your neck and sides of your cheeks when the wind graces you with its presence; ruffling the pages of the book tucked between two fingers.

He lingers there longer than he'd care to admit, memorizing the scrunched furrow of your brow and the precious pout of your mouth. One of your hands falls carelessly to the side, occasionally reaching for a snack or a drink of wine until Rhys decides he's definitely been looming in the doorway an obscene amount of time—enough to almost feel embarrassed and maybe a little creepy when you snap your book closed.

His cheeks go red, already preparing himself for the apology you're sure to demand from him for perving on you from the balcony but when Rhysand looks down, you're still none the wiser to his presence. Though, you have carefully put your literature aside to slowly glance at your surroundings.

Rhysand pauses his retreat, now surveilling as you had, searching for the sign of life that you’d detected but no matter how far he pushes his power through the trees and forestry, over the mountains and the village surrounding it —not a single soul is identified.

You seem to come to this same conclusion and Rhys waits with bated breath as your hands curl behind your back to undo the ties of your top. “Holy gods,” The High Lord's knees physically give out when the heaving plush of your breasts are bared, his weight slumping into the outdoor lounge chair and all but whimpers at the sight of you. Absolutely ethereal, you are; a gift granted from the Mother herself--completely unaware of the beauty you behold and the lengths males would go to have such beauty latched on their arms.

The very thought of another seeing you this way has jealousy churning in Rhys' gut.

A completely different kind of heat swarms his skin as your pretty purple bottoms follow where your top is haphazardly tossed and obscene kinds of filth floods his mind; a million fantasies taking root at once until all the blood needed for his braid to exude proper common sense is rushed below his belt.

Fuck, this was so wrong but that very fact makes his cock swell further. Every nerve in his body burns, and for once Rhysand isn’t brooding about the sweltering heat or the sweat dripping down his back or the disgusting little gnats that flock around the perfectly pruned flora. Not when you're there, not quite within arms reach but plenty close enough for Rhys to make out the outline of your body from under the water.

Thick curls cling to you when you break the surface and Rhysand doesn't even think twice before his fingers are hastily undoing the button of his breeches. Teeth bite into his bottom lip as he palms his hardness through the thin material of his boxers; violet eyes darkening into a lusty aubergine.

It’s effortless, the way you cut through the stream, feet kicking against the gentle current as you bask in the feeling of weightlessness—most likely grateful for the cool calm after waking up with clothes drenched in sweat and hair sticking to your shoulders. A complete juxtaposition to the shiver that rakes down your spine from the surprisingly crisp waters, goosebumps loitering your flesh and nipples pebbling.

Rhysand tracks every move, hypnotized by the way light reflected off the high points of your features, casting sensual shadows over the shape of your hips and the ample ass behind it. Drool damn near drips down his chin when you pull yourself out, every inch of you soaking wet and glistening; womanly curves jiggling enticingly as you plop out to lay on your towel fully intending to work up an even tan.

One hand strokes at his erection, thumb collecting pre-cum and spine sinking into the chair as he feasts on the display you’ve provided. So beautiful, so soft and lovely—oh, but not quite so proper, were you?

Because, the way you trace your fingers down the line between your tits lacks anything but decorum. Legs bend at the knee for stability while you tug at a nipple, your free hand sliding down, down, down until your perfect manicure disappears between your thighs. He's completely stuck; hooked, caught like a fish on a line and you just keep reeling in him closer and closer to his demise and yet he still refuses to fight it.

The throb of his cock is nearly painful, balls swollen and grip lethal when pumping up and down the thick length. Even when his eyes go droopy and his breathing grows labored, he forces his view to remain on you and the slow roll of your hips as two fingers slowly circle around the sensitive bud of your clit.

Rhys swears that he tries to stop but he'd already fallen too far, swept up by the unsteady rise and fall of your chest and the eager spread of toned legs as you build up to that sweet release. Huffy hums of pleasure drifts up into his ears like sweet music and while he wouldn't have considered himself a melomaniac; he could see the obsession forming if it was your voice carrying the melodies.

Velvety skin shifts with each desperate pump, thumb applying pressure just under the defined mushroom head of his prick when Rhys realizes the noises have stopped—your pretty moans and the slick sounds of your pussy no longer drifting his way.

"And here I thought a High Lord was supposed to hold himself with some sort of decorum,” Every muscle in Rhysand’s body locks at the sound of your voice, its cadence much closer than before and entirely too smug when you take in the leaking throb of his erection. Hands seize their stroking and Rhysand can't fucking fathom the fact that he'd allowed his imagination to run so wild—to distract him so intensely that he'd been sloppy enough to get caught.

He hadn't even heard you enter the room. Hadn't detected the familiar itch of one winnowing around his territory. You'd utterly blindsided him, a hot flush billowing into his cheeks, "I was just—“

"Watching me," You swiftly intercede, completely confident before him with your body free of periwinkle restrictions. "Instead of finishing that mountain of paperwork you've been ignoring."

"I got a little distracted." Mischief swells in your eye at the rough tone of his voice and it’s no secret your affect on him. Rhysand’s jaw was clenched tightly with barely contained restraint as he forces himself to focus on the lush green grass or the chirp of the birds wrestling in the trees instead of the soft swell of your belly and the supple curve of your thighs that sits right in his line of sight. “And you’re not exactly making it easy to pay attention to anything but you.”

“Good,” You all put preen under the compliment. "The harder the better." A sharp inhale is sucked through his nose when one knee drops to the free space of his chair. You hover over him, perky tits right in his face as you take your sweet ass time getting comfortable in his lap. It's bold; intrusive even—you plopping the weight of your ass against his thighs as you ease his hand aside and replace it with your own. "All the fun is in the challenge."

And what a challenge it would be taking such a massive cock.

It's really fucking pretty though. Hard to the touch and soft as silk. It pulses in your grasp, twitching when you give an experimental squeeze and Rhysand nearly finishes on the spot when you peer at him through thick lashes. Lust swims in your vision, aroused by the scenes from your book read by the lake and the added eroticism that ensued once realizing you weren't alone--that there was another watching you as you'd undressed. "Fucking filthy thing, you are." Rhys grunts as your thoughts consume him, abdomen contracting involunentarily as he submits to the overwhelming high that comes with your touch.

"Says you," Your wet hair drips a puddle by his shoes, liquid bouncing off polished leather as your hips shamelessly roll, grinding down along the muscular ridges of his thigh through his breeches, pussy clenching around nothing at the delicious friction. “Those expensive tutors forget to teach you that’s it’s not polite to spy on a lady?”

"They did," Never once had it taken Rhysand so long to conjure up a witty remark, "—but it's been a while since I’ve attended my lessons." The warmth from between your legs and the hypnotic bounce of your breasts is enough to turn him dumb. All the overstimulated High Lord can offer up is deep grunts and choppy pants through garbled praises and pleas for more as you have your way with him. You don't even have to bother tugging his pants down all the way, plenty satisfied with only unvieling the goods.

"Sounds like you need a refresher on manners." Consent is granted in the way Rhys’ hands grip at your hips, guiding you up, up, up until your dripping sex hovers over his own and when he and you finally connect—every movement turns desperate.

“Oh fuck,” He chokes out, starving hands feasting at your figure, ravishing every curve and devouring every sound you offer. It had to have something to do with the heat; this all-consuming hunger that burns beneath your skin and just engulfs everything in sight until all sense of rationality and logic had melted to mush.

“Better than your hands, huh?” It takes everything in you to keep your words steady, to keep your thighs sturdy and rhythm in tune as you rock your hips; experimenting with the feeling of such fullness. “Was this what you were thinking about when you were perving on me? How I’d feel wrapped around you? How far I could take you?” Fingers bite into your waist, it’s sure to leave bruises and yet you can’t find it in yourself to give a shit when you’re so preoccupied with sucking up every fucking inch Rhys had to offer. The noises that rumbles through the air is guttural, animalistic; stained with desire and a mind numbing need that triggers that possessive Illyrian blood within him and when his hips shift, feet planting more sturdy against the ground—you know you’re screwed.

Truly, undeniably fucked.

Because with each sharp thrust he offers, your cocky demeanor fades away. “Was thinking about how you’d sound and the noises you’d make for me.” The control shift is palpable even in your state, hazy eyes catching the second a flustered Rhys eases into the role of High Lord, weilder of a great power that he clearly knew how to manipulate. “Can’t say, I’m disappointed.”

[meowzfordayz]

really leaving/never asked me to stay

Author’s Note: mostly angst, but a tiiiny bit of lightheartedness too. 😅

really leaving/never asked me to stay

Agatsuma Zenitsu x Reader, Kocho Shinobu x Reader, Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~800

CW: none

~faqs~

“You’re really leaving?”

You giggle at Zenitsu’s petulant tone, swiveling to meet his pouty face with a grin.

“It’s just dinner.”

Huffing, he crosses his arms, jutting out his bottom lip, “Dinner is my favorite meal with you.”

“How about I eat second dinner with you when I get back?”

“But I don’t want your tummy to hurt!”

You raise a fond eyebrow at his tormented exclamation, shaking your head as he dramatically collapses, arms wrapping tight and contentedly around your thighs.

You press a kiss to your thumb, touching it to his forehead before sternly informing him, “I’ve got to go.”

“Fiiiiine!”

—

“What are you doing here?!” you hiss, wry amusement softening the edges of your otherwise severe expression.

“You never asked me to staaay,” he singsongs, winking triumphantly, “Now it’s almost like we’ll be eating dinner together!”

Rolling your eyes, you peck his cheek with an exaggerated sigh, waving goodbye as you continue toward your actual dinner table. Perhaps he’s a bit much, but he’s your a bit much. How could you ever ask him to not follow you?

“You’re really leaving?”

Shinobu’s voice is lower than usual, its orange blossom timbre darkened to buckwheat as she eyes your neatly packed satchel. You stare back for a long moment, once vibrant memories curling and yellowed at their corners as they swim across your vision, swallowing the urge to tell her Of course not.

“You never asked me to stay.”

As you walk away, slow and steady and this close to sobbing, she realizes: for all the twinkling stars, brilliant sunsets, softer sunrises, lunches of wiping each other’s mouths, holding hands as you sleep, and murmurings of I love you — she never did ask you to stay. So why would you?

“You’re really leaving?”

Kyojuro sighs into your shoulder, a quiet and thoughtful sound, arms tightening around your waist as you refuse to meet his gaze.

“You never asked me to stay,” he teases gently, kissing the top of your head while you grumble indignantly into his chest.

“Well that wouldn’t be fair of me,” you mutter, tugging at his haori, “I know we have our duties. Responsibilities. Places to be.”

“I wish my only duty was to you,” he confesses, words catching in his throat, “I wish you were my only responsibility.”

You don’t respond. You can’t. Because you know you would say I wish that too. Because you know you have him wrapped around your finger, and you know you would succumb to the selfishness—the fear—in your heart. To keep him for yourself would protect him; to keep him for yourself would ruin you.

“What do you wish?” he whispers, “What can I do for you?”

You ask for the one thing you know to be true. For the one thing you know to be infinite.

“Tell me you love me.”

He smiles, achingly so, eyes warm and adoring as you finally bring yourself to look upon them, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

“You’re really leaving?”

You can’t ignore the bite in Sanemi’s tone, its bitterness settling heavy and thick atop your shoulders. Arranging your expression to something neutrally uninterested (at least, you desperately hope it appears as such), you face him with your arms crossed, glaring pointedly into his suspiciously bright eyes.

“You’re really surprised?”

“No,” he mutters, jaw twitching as you take a step, another step, another step, away from him, “But I thought you might be polite enough to bother with goodbye.”

“Polite?” you scoff, a sharp and acidic exclamation, “Etiquette is earned, Shinazugawa-san, and you have earned only my scorn and contempt.”

“So… no goodbye?”

He’s tentative, almost playful, wondering if even now he could turn the tide back to I’m so in love with you, the resignation in your voice traded for a softer cadence.

“You never asked me to stay.”

He hates how tired you sound. How tired of trying. Of trying for him.

“So what is there to say goodbye to?”

“You’re really leaving?”

Giyuu’s question cuts gently through the night, an invisible glimmer more soft and melancholy than the moonlight draping its longing and fear around your head, down your back, behind your knees.

“You never asked me to stay,” you reply, hesitation hovering in your throat, “I don’t intend to intrude.”

“And if I wanted you to?”

If you didn’t know him better, then you’d assume he was asking. But this? This is the closest he’s ever gotten to demanding. To wanting.

“To what?”

“Intend…” he trails off, embarrassment overcoming him despite the darkened hour, inhaling slowly to anchor himself, “To intrude.”

Your eyes widen, noticing—not for the first time—how brilliantly his gaze shines when it rests upon you.

“You want me to stay?”

You don’t mean to whisper, but the way his fingers smooth the hem of his haori over and over and over again… you’re terrified you’ll lose him.

“Please,” he nods, smiling so tenderly that you wonder if he’s simply dreaming, “Stay.”

[corroded-hellfire]

Okay this is random but I work at a daycare and this little boy who’s about two years old looks exactly like his dad and their eyes are just so blue and distinctive but he has his mom’s hair and I was just wondering if you could write something like that with Eddie x reader, I just think it would be so cute to see their little mini me ! I love your work so sos much no pressure if you don’t want to of course:) 

Eddie as a father? If only I had some experience writing that 😜 I hope you enjoy your and Eddie’s little mini me!

Words: 900

“Can you believe it?”

“No. I mean, it’s been two years and no.”

Max and Dustin sit on the floor of your living room, watching your son rummage through the toy box on the other side of the deep brown coffee table until he finds something suitable to play with his babysitters.

Bret settles on his Fisher Price Rescue Hero action figures and tries to collect as many of them in his tiny arms as he can. A few curly strands of hair fall into his eyes which he shakes out of the way as well as he can manage in this position. Satisfied with the haul he’s gathered, he lugs himself out of the toy box and toddles back over to his favorite aunt and uncle. At least that’s what Max and Dustin tell themselves. 

“He’s like their clone,” Max speaks softly as Bret sits down and spreads the toys around his small body to get a better look. “Dad’s hair curls. Mom’s hair color.”

“Dad’s eye color, Mom’s skin tone. Jesus, I’d swear Eddie grew him in a lab if he knew the first thing about science.”

“Technically, Bret is here because of biology,” Max teases as the two-year-old in question hands the redhead a construction worker action figure.

“The one aspect of science Eddie’s willing to experiment with time and time again,” Dustin says. 

“Hmm?” the little boy asks Max, having heard her say his name.

“Huh?” Max asks, looking down at the youngest Munson. “Oh. Um, what game are we playing?”

“We playin’ heroes!” Bret announces, having the firefighting action figure he’s holding fly in an arc over his head. 

“Are they superheroes?” Dustin asks. He lays flat on his stomach to be more on an equal level with the toddler. Action figures of every occupation are spread out in front of him on the plush navy blue carpet. 

“Not all,” Bret says with a shrug, which is the spitting image of one of your usual quirks. 

“Which one do you want to be?” Max asks. 

Bret’s eyes scan the variety of toys laid out around him, his small tongue peeking out from between his lips as he thinks about it. Max can’t help but chuckle at the familiar image in front of her, just on a smaller scale. 

“I don’t know!” Bret pouts, his lower lip jutting out. He slumps down on the carpet, his head coming to rest on his Uncle Dusty’s shoulder. 

“Aw, come on, Mini Munson.” Dustin rolls onto his back and lifts Bret over his head. The two-year-old giggles wildly and starts to kick his feet as if he’s trying to swim away. The laughter is so loud and piercing that none of the three hear the front door opening.

“Careful,” Eddie says as he walks into the room, you trailing just behind him. “He had a few waffles for breakfast, and I don’t want to see them come back up over Uncle Dusty’s face.”

Bret giggles—slightly evilly—as if this would be hilarious.

You set your purse down and slip your shoes off, throwing Max a smile.

“How was the troublemaker?”

“The usual amount of trouble,” she tells you.

“So, nowhere near as much as his father. Got it.” 

Your husband walks towards Dustin, ready to scoop your son up out of his grip, but the little boy squeals and dodges his hands.

“Hey,” Eddie pouts, which only makes Bret giggle. “Bret Michael Munson. Are you trying to escape your old man?”

“Yeah!” he replies cheerfully, making Dustin laugh. 

Eddie softly kicks his best friend’s shoulder with his socked foot. 

Across the room, Max accepts the glass of water you hand her.

“How was your afternoon date?” she asks.

“It was fun. The weather’s really nice and I beat Eddie by three points because he couldn’t hit his ball through the little windmill,” you say with a giggle.

“You’re definitely going to have to be the one to teach Bret to play mini golf,” Max says. 

The two of you look over to your son, where he seems to be the object of a game of keep away between Eddie and Dustin. Bret giggles wildly, his face scrunching up in a way that makes the tip of his nose wiggle.

“It’s so crazy how much he looks like you when he scrunches his face like that,” Max says, shaking her head in amazement. 

Bret must’ve caught his aunt’s words because he looks over at the two of you, a tiny furrow between his brows.

“But Mommy’s a girl!” he protests. 

You blow him a kiss and he’s quickly sucked back into whatever game he’s playing with the guys. 

Once Bret is tuckered out from the roughhousing, he plops down on Dustin’s chest and Eddie makes his way over to you. He catches wind of your and Max’s conversation of how your son looks just like the two of you. When Max slips away to grab her things, Eddie places his hands on your hips from behind and rests his chin on your shoulder. 

“Wanna make another one and see if they look more like you or me?”

Just the thought sends a pleasant tingle down your spine.

“You’re on, Munson. Meet me in our room. Nap time.”

“Bret’s or mine?”

A snort of laughter bursts out of you, causing Eddie to smile and only hold onto you tighter. 

[zarnzarn]

Penelope wakes up to the sound of screams.

With a gasp, she sits upright, straining her ears. The carnage is at the far end of the castle, the shouting and clanking of metal- but it is not her maids, or her soldiers who are dying.

It is the suitors.

Penelope swings her legs out of bed, silently making her way over to her mirror. She lights a candle and starts doing her hair and makeup, thanking the stars that she fell asleep in her best dress that night, and it was still fresh looking.

She looks at her own face in the mirror, older and lined. Feels her lips pull down as vanity passes over her, tugging at the unruly grey strands that poke out of her head, half-urgently trying to smooth out her face.

"Penelope," Athena says as she leans over her, eyes dancing with amusement. Athena, who has not appeared to her in four years. Her face is speckled with blood and her chest is heaving with fury- she must be down there too, in the bloodbath. "You know it doesn't matter."

"Can't I want to look my best?" She snaps, slamming her makeup box shut. Walks over to the chest that holds her jewellery and starts putting it on. "Sixteen years I have not seen my husband, I think I'm quite past anyone telling me what to do with regards to finally seeing him again."

A cautionary voice in her head screams at her to stop antagonizing Athena, so close to finally being whole, but when she turns, the goddess only has regret in her eyes.

"I am sorry, Penelope," She says, and Penelope stills, more than aware that it was very likely no one had ever received an apology from this goddess before. "Time passes differently in Olympus. What was four days ended up being four years, when I looked."

Tears prick at her eyes, but she forces them back with a sharp inhale. "That would explain it," She says roughly. "How much longer?"

Athena approaches her, armour clanking, and tilts her face up. When she presses a kiss to Penelope's forehead, she feels some of the desperate madness of the past years dissipate, leaving behind the sorrow-less certainty that she had been wise to wait, that she had been right.

Athena smiles. "Go."

-

She sees him before he sees her.

At first glance, she knows him, blood drenched and older though he is. He stands in the main hall, surrounded by bodies, and moves sharp and precise and inevitable as he takes down suitor after suitor, with none of them able to so much as land a scratch on him. Quick, moving in and out, with a tall, masked figure by his side and-

She clicks her tongue in exasperation, smiling. Sixteen and bloodthirsty, Telemachus stands by their side with furious satisfaction in his eyes as he clumsily shoots down each suitor that gets too close.

That absolute brat. He planned this! No wonder he was so happy this whole past week, when he'd been so morose the entire month before.

Penelope watches from the high balcony. Her trusted maids and all the subjects of the kingdom that still remain come running up the steps to help, some from the far reaches of the town, all gleeful- Ithaka is small, and shouts carry. She can see torches being lit across the city, when she looks, more rushing to the palace, taking out the retinues that had accompanied the men.

She takes a deep breath and makes her way down the stairs.

The brick walls around her swim in and out of focus as she walks, curiously far away. Her sandals sound out against stone.

She had been right. All these years, all this waiting- she had been right.

When she reaches the curtain, she stops and swallows. Sixteen years of waiting. She had promised him she would spend it happy, not grieve him before he was dead- and she had. Enjoyed the power, enjoyed raising her son, learning how to let the moments of grief rush over her and pass by every time she turned to see empty air. Made friends, gained allies, became skilled in politics like no other woman could so openly be. Ithaka flourished under her.

Let it end, she prays. Let that all be past from tonight.

She would give everything up for one more day with her husband.

Her hands are trembling when she pushes aside the curtain.

Odysseus stands in the middle of the room, panting as the last suitor falls, covered in blood. He's ragged, weary, scarred from all the horrors of whatever made him come back to Ithaka alone. Behind him, what looks like the entire kingdom stands together crowded as they stare, the ones who knew him crying themselves in shock, the ones who didn't studying him warily.

Telemachus says something and points to Penelope and she can see him stop breathing, same as her, when their eyes finally meet.

"Penelope," He breathes, swaying forward as he drops his weapons.

"Odysseus," She chokes out, as she forces herself to stop a distance away. Tries not to cry at the blatant hurt in his eyes as she does, at the frown Athena and Telemachus send her way. Feels rage climb in her chest- wants to scream at them both, at them all, that they cannot blame her. "You have returned."

"I have." He takes a step forward and they both shake. "To you. For you. I promised, didn't I?"

"Mother!" Telemachus bursts forth, dismayed. "Why won't you embrace him? It's father, it's really him, you waited so long for this moment!"

"You were too young to remember the shapeshifters that besieged our palace after Troy, my son," She says sadly. Watches grief at the fact settle in Odysseus' expression, then the devastated acceptance of her distance, tries not to let her emotions overweigh her caution at the love in his eyes as he allows her to do so.

Odysseus laughs suddenly, and her heart aches, her muscles cramp from how tightly she holds herself back, as he casually places an elbow on his son's head to lean on him, flashing her one of those grins she remembers so fondly, of the two of them being the only ones on the inside of a joke. It must be him, right? No shapeshifter could be so skilled, to embody the movements of his entire body so. "Don't worry so much, Tel. Your mother doesn't look at me unless I'm dressed in my best clothing- she would refuse to accept it was me either way, when I'm covered in all this blood."

Penelope aches. Penelope aches.

"So then I assume you wouldn't mind waiting until the daylight?" She smiles, half-fake. Her heart pounds as she turns to Eumeus and says, "Move our bed to the main hall for him, would you? I-"

She can't bring herself to speak further, turning back too quickly to look. Her stomach drops as Odysseus straightens back up with shock, her heart flips as hurt flashes over his face, and she's already running as he says in confusion and anger, "Damn you, woman! Did you take an axe to our fucking bed when I was gone-"

"It is you!" She exclaims as she throws herself into him, wrapping her arms around his neck as tight as she can. She sobs, and sixteen years of missing him spring to the surface all at once as she gasps for air in between tears, a smile on her face as she finally lets her mask fall. "Oh gods, oh Olympus, it's you, it's really actually you!"

Odysseus doesn't move for a moment under her, then says in a thick voice, "You fucking trickster."

And finally, finally, hugs her back.

"Don't be angry with me," She begs, voice devastated with her crying as she hangs off him. Holds onto him as if he'll disappear, escape her grasp again if she lets him go. "Don't be angry, please, I beg you, don't be irritated, or annoyed, I couldn't bear it-"

So long overdue was this reunion, and she spoiled it with her paranoia; if the first thing she did as a wife when no husband would do what he'd done for her was disappoint him-

"I am not," Odysseus says gently, cradling her face, holding her with the same desperation. Her ears burn with the sound of his voice, no longer a memory she had to guard fiercely against forgetting, every syllable just the same as she remembers it, saying new words. "I understand why, my love, trust me, I am only happy. I am only happy."

Penelope wails, her crown crashing to the floor with the force of it, shoulders shaking, and Odysseus holds her closer.

"Oh, Penelope," He whispers sadly. His voice cracks and he breaks down in tears too as they sink to the floor together. "My Penelope."

They cry on the floor like animals, a loud terrible din in front of everyone there, uncaring of who watches. Penelope tries to crawl into his lap, and he tries to crawl into hers- she has the wild thought that they need to both slit themselves into puzzle pieces so that they can fit together more tightly, to be satisfied.

Finally, they run out of tears, shaking on the floor ungracefully, still holding onto each other. She tries to press every inch of her body against his, even as the fear of having not seen his face while she embraced him makes her rear back to look, wiping off the blood to see him underneath. "You're home. You came back."

"I did," He says softly, eyes as adoring as she remembers them to be. She curls her fingers into his hair, relearns the shape of his face, traces her fingers over his nose and eyebrows. "Fought a lot of people to do it, but I did. I'm home."

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you," She chokes out and shifts so she can hold him as he starts crying again at her words.

"Penelope," He whispers, threadbare- her poor husband, who fought so hard to come back home, with the glaring absence of all the men he loved who went with him, who has something shattered deep within his eyes because of whatever the Fates put him through. "Penelope."

"I have you. You have me." Penelope chants, looking around until she catches sight of Telemachus and Athena, both smiling. Telemachus sniffles and wipes at her face, and it is with a start that Penelope realizes that the goddess is also crying when she reaches up to elegantly wipe at her face. Holds out a hand with a grin that feels more real on her face than any she's worn these sixteen years past. "What, you two require official invitations?"

All of them nearly fall over with the force at which the other two rush into them, and they all laugh. Penelope holds her family close, all four of them together once more, and looks beyond to smirk victoriously at all her handmaidens and advisors and all the idiots who'd told her to move on. Some lay their eyes down as she looks, some of them incline their heads in acceptance and respect, and a few of them shake their heads with a smile. Penelope will not be losing their trust anytime soon.

She takes a shaky breath and holds them all close. Her family. Her loves.

She's never letting any of them go again.

[dollfacefantasy]

Time to Kill

pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!reader

summary: during a night out at a club, you bump into a bounty hunter who has some time to kill.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, heavy dub-con, p in v, fingering, degradation, size kink, public sex, biting, mentions of murder, violence, death, guns, crime, etc.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: i will be back to RE after this i just wanted to try something new :) reblogs and comments mean the world <3 for @nexysworld and @kaitkatme cause they put me on jjk and i love them.

“Watch it, bounty hunter,” you scoff, eyes shooting a glare up at the guy who bumped into you and nearly knocked you down.

He returns your sneer with his own, staring down at you with condescending irritation. The fact that he towers over you is almost enough to make you regret the jab, but you bank on being in a crowded nightclub to keep you safe.

His hair hangs down into his eyes, making it harder to see his expression in the already dark hall. Regardless, you feel his gaze raking over your curves before fixating on your face.

“Maybe you should watch it, princess,” he responds. Even his voice sounded skeevy. 

The unaffected smirk on his face doesn’t elude you either despite the dim lighting. You roll your eyes and snake past him, brushing the confrontation off in hopes of still enjoying your night. Your first move is going back to the bar and downing a few more drinks. Then you make your way back to the main area to dance.

Your hips sway to the blaring music while the lights overhead bathe your skin in a red tint. The music pounds in the ground beneath you, up through your legs and into your heart. You let your head fall back and get lost in the sound of the drums. Everyone around you seems to be doing the same, bobbing to the rhythm. A sea of strangers moving together.

But as all that happens in your vicinity, you can still feel a set of eyes on you. You sense that same gaze from the hall, watching you as if you were prey ready to be pounced on. Acting as if you’re still moving purely to the song, you twist your head to the side and look around. As you expect, you catch his focus and with him in a brief stare.

You keep moving though, trying to ignore it. Maybe he was still pissy. Maybe he was bored. Either way, it really wasn’t any of your concern. He was none of your business beyond the altercation in the hall. And in your defense, you didn’t even actually know that he was a bounty hunter. You’d only heard rumors about him, the guy with the scar on his lip. He just had that look about him.

It didn’t really matter. The liquor was starting to get to your head. You felt less stable on your feet as you moved your body in between the others making up the crowd. Everything was bright and loud, the seams on your top were scratchy, and your head was swimming.

You begin pushing through people, stumbling towards the bathroom as you need a reprieve from all the action. Your attention is on not tripping or breaking your ankle in the tall shoes you wore, so you don’t notice his figure slithering through the room alongside you.

You walk down that same hallway you’d run into him the first time. Teetering back and forth, you push open the bathroom door. Two stalls stand opposite from the door with a mirror and a set of sinks next to them. You shuffle in towards the countertops, both palms landing on the cool surface. There’s red neon lights in the bathroom too. You have to squint while staring at your reflection. 

As you glance over yourself, you realize your sleeve is slipping off your shoulder, and your skirt is a little twisted out of place. You adjust your outfit before leaning closer to the mirror for further inspection. You’re shimmery with a light sheen of sweat, but there’s nothing you can do about that right now. Instead you pull out your lipgloss and swipe it across your pout with a few lazy strokes.

You’re busy tending to your appearance when the door behind you flies open. Your eyes flit to the reflection of the man who walked in. It was that guy. He looked even larger in the confined space of the bathroom. The red lighting shines directly on him, highlighting how his arms bulge as they emerge from his shirt, the way the fabric sits tight on his defined torso. To be real, he was starting to grow on you. But that must have been the drinks talking.

“Wrong bathroom, dumbass,” you say with a roll of your eyes. The drinks were responsible for that line too, dulling the fear that would have overtaken your nerves earlier.

“The other bathroom doesn’t have you in it, does it?” he asks, slipping inside and letting the door shut behind him.

He’s still against the wall parallel to the mirror. You eye him curiously, not making any sudden moves. In sober circumstances, you would be absolutely terrified. Your heart would be pounding, vision blurry, and hands shaking with anxiety at the prospect of a strange guy cornering you in the bathroom. But right now, you just had a muted uncertainty in the pit of your stomach.

“What do you want with me?” you ask, attempting to seem unamused, “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“It’s cute that you think that’s even a possibility,” he responds.

A smirk rises on his face as he steps closer to you. You can nearly feel his body against your back. His face remains clearly visible in the mirror as he stands at least an entire head higher than you. It was obvious from the start, but at this proximity, it was impossible to escape how big he was. Chills erupt across your skin as his hands coast up your arms and rest on your shoulders.

“You weren’t far off the mark before anyways,” he says.

You try to shrug him off, but his hands stay firmly in place. His eyes are locked onto your body, his current target. You were getting a little more jittery, but it wasn’t totally out of fear. Your fingers fumble as you jam your lip gloss back into your clutch.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you reply.

Beyond the strange mixture of emotions inside you, this conversation begins to grow annoying. Remarks that brush past each other instead of making direct hits. And he’s still so fucking smug. It's grating. Apparently your displeasure is visible since he chuckles and runs his fingertips down your jawline.

“Aw, look at that face,” he mocks, fingers coming up to hold your jaw, “Good to know you’re cute while pouting too.”

“What do you want?” you ask with more anger. You try to pry his hand away from your chin, but his grip is tight. There’s no getting it off.

“Impatient,” he chides, though his eyes don’t hold any irritation, “I just thought I’d check on you. Isn’t really safe for a girl like you to wander off all alone. Someone may want to take advantage.”

You try to turn around to push him away, but his hips have yours pinned to the countertop.

“Lucky for you, I have some time to kill before my real work starts,” he says.

His other hand drifts up to your chest, digits lightly dragging over your right breast, slowly moving closer and closer to the center. You hate your body in that moment for the way your nipples instinctively stiffen up beneath your top. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to notice. Or at least he doesn’t point it out if he does.

“My nerves go crazy before a hit, y’know? I could use some stress relief,” he purrs in your ear, “Judging by how riled up you get, I think you could too.”

A shiver shoots up your spine while arousal simultaneously swirls between your legs. You glare at him through the reflection, but there’s no physical resistance this time. He was really growing on you now. He was pissing you off for sure, but it was starting to circle around to the point where you wanted to take out that rage in a more carnal manner. It doesn’t help when he continues speaking.

“The way you were dancing, I know you wanted someone to notice. Showing that tight ass off, just begging for some attention. Well, you have all of mine now,” he breathes, punctuating his statement with a light smack on your backside.

Heat creeps up your neck as he speaks. It was difficult to prevent yourself from being flustered in these circumstances, but you couldn’t just give in to this shithead. You had to still have some fight in you, right? Trying to keep your voice as firm as possible, you challenge him. “I don’t want it.”

With that simple statement, you jab your elbow back into his abdomen, allowing you to spin around. But that’s all you can do because he acts as if the move didn’t hurt him at all. His hand comes back to your jaw with a harsher grasp. Still despite the rough movements, he doesn’t seem to be bothered by your attempts at rejection.

“Too bad,” he states simply. He boosts you up onto the counter, using your neck as leverage. He slots himself between your legs to keep them spread and maintains eye contact the whole time. “Pretty little brat like you needs someone to show you your place.”

His hand delves between your thighs, pressing against your panties. He watches you closely as he strokes you over the fabric. You tense up a bit at first, a shaky breath exiting your lungs. It felt good obviously, but it was still weird. And on top of that, you couldn’t understand why he wasn’t just getting to the point and taking what he wanted.

He registers the confusion on your face and leans down closer to you. His breath fans across your neck. You can feel his lips brushing your ear.

“I’m not in a rush,” he says simply, “Got some time before my guy gets here. Rather play with you for a bit longer than wait around out there.”

He continues rubbing you through the cloth that separates your skin. He’s breathing heavier as he speeds up his movements, inhaling the scent of your perfume mixed with the liquor you’d both had. A breathy whine leaves you as his middle finger flicks over your clit. You hear him hum in approval before he lowers his head more and lays some sloppy kisses on your neck. He leaves some love bites, more to occupy himself than anything else. His teeth nip at the skin while his tongue laves over the mini bruises.

You’re starting to soak through your underwear. He knows it. He can feel it. The lacy fabric clings to your folds more, letting him feel more of you. A sharp puff of hot air comes from his nostrils, sending a chill over you as it hits the wet skin on your throat.

“You’ve been aching for this since your little tantrum, haven’t you? Probably could’ve fucked you right out there in front of everyone, and you wouldn’t have said a word. Except maybe ‘more,’” he says, his voice low and smooth with his own arousal.

“No,” you object out of instinct. Your words contradict the way your hips begin to buck against his fingers, itching for him to rip your panties off.

“Yes,” he chuckles, taking your hint and pulling the damp article of clothing down. 

His fingers slide through your wetness freely now. You sigh with some semblance of relief. Your head rests against the mirror, and you can only imagine the sinful image displayed in the glass right now. You spread open for this man who looms above you.

You shake your head lazily in response to him. Your already-intoxicated mind becomes less focused as the simmer of pleasure starts melting away the functioning parts of your brain.

“Yeah. Just tell me this. Do you do this often, or is it something special about me?” he mocks.

Your response is cut short as he slips two fingers inside you. You gasp at the stretch. You’re pretty sure you’ve had dick before that was the same size as this guy's warm-up. You spread your trembling legs wider for him as your teeth briefly sink into your bottom lip.

“Just shut up,” you whimper, eyes flutter closed as he massages your walls.

“If I had to bet, I’d say this is the first time. You’re all shaky for me,” he teases and gently laps at your pulse point, “And I can feel your heart ready to beat out of your chest.”

He was right about that. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, thumping through all of your body. Your cheeks burn as he continues pumping in and out of your cunt. You tighten up around him, eyes fluttering at the sensation between your legs. Your slick gathers on his fingers and drips down to the marble under you.

“It’s cute really, knowing you’re not always such a slut,” he goes on.

You whine, loud enough that it echoes around the bathroom. His fingers curl within you, leading you towards the edge. One of your hands is flat on the counter, keeping you up right. The other is clasped around his wrist, your nails forming little red crescents on the skin. They dig in harsher as he keeps speaking.

“Like you better when you’re quiet,” you say between mewls and moans.

“I’d say the same for you if you weren’t making all those cute noises,” he says and starts thrusting his fingers in harder, “Got an innocent little thing like you moaning like a pornstar for me.”

Your head spins as the noise of his fingers inside your pussy starts to fill the bathroom. Your ear rests on your shoulder as you slump to the side in your drunken, lust-fueled haze. He just keeps on with his motions, working you right to the brink. Only when you’re writhing and whining like you’re about to lose it, does he stop and pull his digits out of you completely.

A noise of shock and frustration leaves you as your eyes narrow. He cracks a smile, highlighting that scar on his lip. He then tugs you off the counter by your hips. You nearly topple over, but he stabilizes you and walks you to the wall with the door, perpendicular to the mirror. He shoves you against the hard surface, engulfing your body with his own.

He’s breathing against the side of your head, rutting his hips into yours and letting you feel his hardened bulge. You could already tell it was big. One set of fingers holds your head against the wall while the other maintains a bruising grip on your waist.

“Acting pretty fuckin’ needy for someone who didn’t want it,” he grunts.

You catch your own eyes in the mirror and the image before you only has you getting more turned on. He’s all over you, grinding his hips and teasing himself with your flesh. His cheeks are stained with a light pink tint from the combination of desire and exertion. He reaches up and runs a hand through his hair, pushing the inky black locks out of his eyes. That same hand then ventures South.

He pushes up your skirt over the swell of your ass, bunching it near the small of your back. After a second of admiration, he pulls his cock out. At your current angle, you don’t get a clear view, but from what you do see of how his fist is wrapped around it, you know your expectations are correct.

He taps it against your ass teasingly, and you feel the weight of it. It’s heavy and warm, leaking a bit from the swollen tip. He slides it down and slips it between your thighs. It rubs against your slick folds. You’re already mentally preparing yourself for the stretch, but you still push your hips back at him because you crave it.

“That’s right. You’re learning already. Smarter than you look,” he teases before nudging the tip inside you and inching deeper.

Your guttural moan echoes through the bathroom as you accommodate his size. You feel him pulsing against every part of your insides. You sink further against the tiles on the wall. The bright gleam on them from the red neon lights fades as your eyes droop with lust. You try to say something, but you can’t get any words out.

And cocky as he is, he’s not faring much better. He groans and buries his face in the crook of your neck. His ragged breaths hit your skin that’s shining with more sweat. He watches your arms stretch out more against the wall, and his trail behind. His fingers chase yours and intertwine, flattening you against the surface.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he mumbles against your skin.

When he bottoms out in you, you’re sure you feel him in your stomach, deeper than anyone before had made it. He takes a second to take in before starting to thrust. His skin smacks against yours in a slow rhythm at first. Your eyes roll back at the motions, and your cunt clamps down on him, trying to keep him all the way in, to keep yourself nice and full. He growls as he feels it and sinks his teeth into the flesh of your throat. He bites, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to create an ache, a complement to the satisfaction you felt in your belly.

You yelp at the sudden feeling. It hurt, but you wanted more. It wasn’t good enough right now, too dull. You wanted it to hurt, to feel as prominent as everything else going on felt. The music in the main part of the club still raged on, vibrating throughout the entire building, including the wall you were trapped against. The bass thrummed against your cheek and made your head fog up even faster.

He hums with pleasure at your responses, enjoying the way you slowly unraveled for him. He bites a bit harder before loosening up completely. The marks now forming on your skin drive him wild. He knows they’ll last for days. You’ll feel ‘em in the shower, while you’re getting dressed, when you’re shifting around in bed at night. They’ll last much longer after he pulls out and both of you have left this sketchy bathroom.

Once he’s away from your neck, his eyes lock in on yours, but they’re not making contact. He’s enraptured by the way your gaze remains on the mirror to the side of you. He stares down at you, as if studying your thoughts just from the look in your eyes.

“You got a thing for watching, little brat? You like watching yourself get used?” he pants, “I know I like it.”

That snaps you out of your daze. You glance back at him with something akin to shyness behind your eyes. He’d describe it as cute if the two of you weren’t in a situation that was anything but at the moment.

“It’s alright, keep watching. Watch me fill this tight pussy better than anyone else ever could,” he grunts.

All you can do to reply is whine and whimper, squirming against the wall. And he laughs at you.

“Yeah?” he mocks, “That all you have to say?”

He hooks his index finger in your mouth and pulls at your cheek, shifting your face to a more erotic expression. Any words you got out now would be garbled for sure. His hips continue clapping against your ass, jolting you forward with each stroke. Drool drips down your chin from how your mouth is pulled open. You don’t bother with trying to speak anymore. You just give in to how good he’s fucking you.

“Pretty baby. Such a slut for me,” he murmurs. 

Your eyes meet his in the mirror. It’s one of the most intense stares you’ve ever felt, like he’s reaching into your soul, rooting part of himself there. He’s gonna be with you long after this ends and you know it. You moan for him, letting all your sounds of euphoria flood the bathroom. He grins and pistons himself into you harder.

“Driving me crazy, dollface. Look at you, all fucked out, whining cause you don’t even know what to say. Don’t even know my fuckin’ name,” he says.

That really gets you cause he’s right, and you know it. And it should make you feel icky. Should make you want to recoil in disgust. But it does the opposite. You feel like your bodies are melting together, becoming one in your haze of passion.

You turn your head to face the other way, not wanting to confront the insatiable desire you felt. He moves in closer and keeps you pinned against that wall. He’s fucking you just how you like, and you don’t think you’re gonna last much longer. He’s not sure he will either with the way you’re pulsing around him.

“Harder,” you whimper, wanting to actually make it to the peak this time, “Want you deeper.”

“Knew you’d be begging for it,” he says. He gives you what you want though, pumping harder and driving himself even deeper. “You don’t need to know my name. All you care about is that I’m giving this pussy what she needs.”

You’re both climbing to the high point, caught up in your lust for each other. You almost don’t notice the door starting to open, a sliver of the world breaking the small bubble the two of you had made together.

All you see is a pair of eyes widening. They probably freeze with shock when they register your face squished against the tile, your wanton moans drifting through the small opening to their ears. They don’t get to see any more than that though because the bounty hunter’s large palm lands on the door and shoves it closed.

Your own eyes widen and watch how his bicep flexes. He holds it shut, and you’re pretty sure it’d stay that way even if the person tried to open it for another look.

“Not gonna let anyone interrupt before I get the chance to spill every last drop of my cum inside this cunt,” he mutters.

He’s going as hard as he can now. At least that’s what you choose to believe because you’re certain if he used any more force you’d pass out. His cock rams into all your sweet spots like entering a cheat code to get you to cum.

You claw at the wall pointlessly, there’s nothing to grab onto. But you hit the high nonetheless, cumming all over his cock. You gush around him with your release. It feels like your body goes limp, but he holds you up with no effort. He keeps you up and safely impaled on his dick, using you like a toy as he works himself up to the high.

He cums with a loud groan and makes good on his word to spill inside you. You’d have to get a pill tomorrow. He fucks it deep inside you, holding still for a moment as if to make sure he got it all in you. Only then does he finally slide out. He watches the sticky white liquid ooze out of you. It’s starting to drip down your inner thigh when he tugs your skirt back into place.

Your legs wobble beneath you as he lets you go. He steps away, turning around to put his cock away and fix his appearance slightly. You slump down against the wall, reduced to a curled up heap on the dirty floor of the bathroom, looking up at him like he’s a higher power.

You try to catch your breath, but your body feels like it’s tumbling down a mountain as you come down. Your glossy eyes watch him walk to the counter and fish your phone out of your clutch you’d left there. He checks the time before glancing at himself in the mirror. He then turns to you.

Crouching down to your level, he reaches out and strokes your cheek. He pushes some of your hair out of your face to meet your eyes.

“Probably best if you stay in here for a while. Don’t want you getting caught in the crossfire. I might wanna do this again sometime,” he tells you.

With that, he rises to his feet again and exits the bathroom as quickly as he’d entered. You’re still grappling with the events that took place. You barely even register the shots and the screaming coming from the main area of the club.

About fifteen minutes later, you manage to get to your feet. You pull your panties up again and fix yourself up as best you can. Then you leave the bathroom. The music is still blaring, but it feels quiet. There’s no one else inside; spare the dead body on the stairs leading up to the private rooms.

Bright sirens wail outside and lights begin painting your skin as you walk to the glass doors labeled ‘exit.’ Your shoes trudge through some blood on the floor and crunch on shards of broken glass. You step outside, dodging people’s questions about your wellbeing and avoiding other groups of people crying their eyes out. All of it feels surreal. None of it really has your focus. 

All you’re thinking about is how you could see him again.

[s7toru]

“spider! babe, there’s a spider in the house!”

your toast clatters on the plate as you drop everything and fling yourself onto the couch, four limbs scrambling to get off the floor. wide eyes seek out your boyfriend in the moment of chaos, and find him crouched on the tv stand, arms wrapped around the tv to hold him still. 

“where?” you ask him, eyes dropping to the ground. he doesn’t need to reply because you spot the creepy crawly darting cluelessly about on the carpet, eight legs crawling about in frantic panic. “oh my god, gojo! do something about it!” 

“are you kidding? you’re out of your mind if you think i’m getting anywhere near that thing!”

your mind blanks at his refusal. “you won’t have to get anywhere near it, dummy. just turn on your infinity and smack it or something!” 

gojo remains wrapped around the tv, already shaking his head even before the last of your sentence leaves your mouth. “that’s not how it works.” 

“really. then, please, remind me why you can’t just use your infinity to kill the spider.” 

“listen, even if it’s on i’ll still be aware that i’m squishing the bug. all its bug juice will splatter out all over me!”

“over your infinity.” you correct him. 

“you didn’t listen.” 

you narrow your eyes at him. “i didn’t want to get rid of the wasp nest outside our house the other day either but i still had to do it. and i don’t even have something to keep them away from me!”

“you lost the rock paper scissors, i had no hand in that.”

“well.” you say. “technically you did. you had a hand, it was a rock.” 

gojo rolls his eyes. “don’t be dramatic, i was supporting you.”

“from inside the house.” you recall his face beaming at you through the window, hand flashing a thumbs up as you were armed with only a rake and your willpower, and your frown deepens.

“and yet, i was still supporting you.” gojo pauses, considering. “you did well, by the way. i’ve never seen anyone smack a wasp mid air like that.” 

the compliment lifts some anger off your shoulders and you grin. “thanks! i was proud of that too!” reality slaps you across the face, readjusting your expression. “wait, don’t think you can change the topic just by complimenting me.” 

he shrugs. “it was worth a try.” 

you pause. “does that mean you didn’t mean it?”

“no! you were actually cool.”

you smile again. “okay, thanks.” 

“the sound it made was really satisfying.” he adds.

“right? like pow.” you gesture an explosion with your hands and watch as gojo gives you a skeptical look.

“really? i thought it was more like thwack.” his voice turns all dramatic at the last syllable and you scoff at his attempt.

“if this was a marvel comic the sound effect that would show up would be pow. in all red too, with crazy fonts.” 

“this is like you saying math is red—”

“it is.” you cut in, matter-of-factly.

“you’re so wrong it hurts. english is red, math is blue.” 

“why would math be blue?”

“because i feel sad doing math.”

“okay fair. but english is green.”

“none of them is green.” 

you furrow your brows. not because of his horrid opinion, but because your eyes had found its way back on the ground. you notice a lack of legs, a lack of a small, black creature terrorising the carpet. "wait, where did the spider go?"

the complain on gojo's tongue dies, and he looks around, too.

your biggest fear becomes reality, and when you look back up at gojo to express your concern, it's there.

something was crawling up gojo’s arm. it fumbles up the fabric of his shirt, swimming through the folds. your mouth falls open but before you can scream out to warn him, gojo's eyes had already followed your gaze. “it’s on me!”

“flick it off!” you cry out in panic, weight shifting as you edge further away from him, though you were nowhere close.

gojo reaches up, prepping his fingers for an attack when you realise the trajectory was aimed towards you. 

“wait, babe! flick it away from us!”

“then we’re going to lose sight of it!” the skin of his finger was turning white at the strength building up behind the flick. if the impact wasn't enough to kill it, the speed in which it hits the surface would send it to the afterlife. “no time to think!” 

he releases his index finger from his thumb and the force smacks the spider head on. it’s a blur really, as the spider flies through the air. you gape at it horrified, watching as if in slow motion as it soars in a beautiful arc, and lands directly on the very top of your head. 

you wonder if your scream could shatter glass. considering that your house still had its windows, you realise it couldn’t. though, you’re sure if you were tested again that it wouldn’t end as cleanly.

“gojo!” you scream. “i don’t ask for much but can you please get it off me, i’m begging you!”

gojo steps down from the tv stand, relief on his face. “thank god it’s off the floor.”

“gojo!” 

“yes, yes.” he makes his way, slowly, painfully, over to you as you crouch frozen on the couch. something in his smile told you he was very pleased at the sight. was that a cramp creeping up your thigh? oh, how you were going to make him pay. “where did it go?” he asks, joyfully, dancing around you.

“don’t even joke.” you hiss at him, and he laughs, reaching over to let the spider walk on his finger. specifically, he lets the spider walk over his finger on his infinity. 

he holds it out to you with a proud smile. “there! we’re all safe and sound now.” 

you glare at him. “what happened to being deathly scared of the spider?” 

he shrugs. 

you reach over and flick the spider onto his face.

a/n: brainrot save me, save me brainrot

[didhewinkback]

on my way to buy some flowers for you

as if i was going to resist THIS. little blurb from the something old universe.

word count: 1ishk; warnings: zero this is fluff city baby.

---

It was the type of September day you fantasize about in the dead of the frigid cold winter months or during a heat wave in July - the sun was shining but the air was crisp, the breeze creating a slight chill. The dewy grass smell walloping him with nostalgia for the first day of school - how he would fiddle with his new backpack while also trying to make sure his curls fell just right for the 800th time.

It’s his favorite time of year in London, something he only realized recently, having spent his first decade or so living here either on tour or in America doing talk shows and photoshoots and meet and greets and interviews and dinners with executives and feeling himself slowly slip away bit by bit. 

There’s none of that now, as he leans up into the sun, the jazz album playing through his airpods adding an extra pep in his step as he turns down his street. This city has never felt more like home and he’s never felt more like himself. He’s gotten to be a real friends and family man this year, a standard he set for himself in the aftermath of tour. He’s someone who shows up, now - birthday parties, concerts, major work events. He’s there. 

He’s also set strict standards for relaxation - yes, he is the type of person that requires a routine in order to actually feel at ease but it’s worked out great so far. Nothing too crazy, just living in the familiar, building a life through habits. Like this one - how he’s gotten to wake up before you for a year and a half straight, rather than just a few weeks at a time, kissing you on the head before quietly slipping out of the house to head off for a cold swim or bike ride or walk through the neighborhood. Coming home to find you blinking sleepily over a cuppa or getting ready for the work day or, his favorite, still in bed, waiting for him.

It’s his favorite thing, waking up next to you. His stomach swoops at the memory of how good you looked this morning, your arm wrapped around his waist, the sunlight glowing golden embers across your skin. 

He adjusts the bouquet in his hands to enter the gate code once he gets to the house, the surprise gift making him so giddy he has to laugh at himself, barely able to contain his grin. It’s not elaborate, it's just flowers, but it will make you smile and that’s enough for him. 

He unlocks the front door, taking his airpods out of his ears and putting them away, taking in the sounds of the house. He quickly toes off his sneakers when he hears the sound of pages turning, can close his eyes and picture you sprawled out on the couch, book in hand. He feels buoyant as he walks down the hall towards the living room, hiding the flowers behind his back. 

Yeah, this is his city, he thinks, this is his home. And this, he thinks as he lays his eyes on you - still wearing that shirt of his you love to sleep in, bare legs stretched along the couch, fully engrossed in what’s unfolding on the page in front of you - this is his person.

You look up as he enters the room, placing the book down on your chest as you look at him, sleepy smile growing wider as he shuffles over to you, bending over with his hands still behind his back to steal a kiss. 

“Good morning,” you mumble against his mouth as he ducks in to steal another, humming into it. 

“Didn’t know if you’d be awake.” he says.

“It’s half past 10!” you squawk indignantly. “I’m not a heathen.”

“Feel like last night would say differently.” he says, laughing when you smack him, living for the way your face flushes. 

“Didn’t hear any complaints.”

“And you never will.” he says seriously, poker face lasting all of two seconds when you honk out a surprised laugh, your grins growing as you look at each other. 

You shake your head, stretching your arms over your head before squinting at him, the way he’s standing awkwardly, hands still behind his back. He feels a bit like a novice magician, heat blooming behind his cheeks as he pulls the bouquet from behind him and holds them out in front of you. You gape at him for a second, eyes darting between the flowers and his face, before pressing yourself up into a sitting position. 

“Who are those for?”

“What do y’ mean who are they for? A man can’t get his wife flowers?” he says, loving the way the word feels leaving his mouth. 

It’s been about three months but he never tires of saying it, never tires of knowing it's you. A flash of heat flows through him as he remembers the late hours after the reception, being unable to stop muttering the word into your neck as his hands desperately clamored to hold you impossibly closer. My wife, my wife, my wife. 

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, the loss of words apparent as you take the bouquet from him, biting at your lip as you look over the bloom. Eyes lighting up when you see your favorites. You huff a laugh and he swears he can see a blush blooming along your cheeks. You look back up at him, grin wide on your face and you look better than he imagined. You’re better than he imagined. You’re everything.

You wrap your hand around the back of his neck to pull him into a kiss, thumb brushing along his skin, causing goosebumps in its wake, your lips pressing against his just the way he likes. It’s a shit angle for his back, hunched over the couch, one arm on the back of it to support his weight but he really doesn’t give a shit, pulling away to press kisses all along your face until you giggle and push him away. 

“They’re beautiful. They’re fucking massive,” you say and he huffs a laugh against your skin, playfully biting at the apple of your cheek before pressing a kiss there and flopping down on the couch next to you. “I love them. Thank you.”

You lean over to kiss him again, he wraps an arm around your shoulder to hold you closer, kissing you softly. It’s the sound of the kettle that makes you pull apart, the kettle that takes absolute ages but he got it for you when he was twelve and you’ve never gotten rid of it. 

“Fancy a cuppa?” you ask softly and he nods, heart skipping a beat when you press your lips to his again before getting up off the couch. “I’m gonna put these in some water.”

You head into the kitchen and he settles back onto the couch, smile never leaving his face as he listens to you putter around. He pulls his cardigan off, smirking before doing the same with his trousers. 

“‘M taking my trousers off,” he announces, kicking them off his legs and staring at them on the ground for a moment before quickly folding them and placing them on the chair next to him. “We’re going full lazy Sunday, baby.”

“Now you’re speaking my language,” you call back and he laughs, reaching for your ipad on the coffee table before laying down on the couch. 

“Will y’ do the crossword with me?” he asks, opening the app up on the ipad, eyes poring over the clues. “The wordle kicked my arse this morning.”

“That’s because you suck,” you say, heading back into the living room with two steaming mugs, placing them on the coasters on the table. “You’re also the only person on the planet still doing the wordle.”

“‘M a man of commitment, what can I say.” he says and you hum, pressing a kiss to his forehead before shuffling back to the kitchen. “And the guy who made it, made it as a gift for his wife, so from one wife guy to another, I’ve got to support.”

He hears you snort at that as he gets a bit lost in the crossword, pausing only when he feels your eyes on him. He looks up, sees you leaning against the doorframe, the vase of flowers in your hand as you look at him with such love in your eyes he swears he stops breathing.

“What’s that look for?” he asks, voice a little breathless.

“My husband got me flowers. And now he’s laying on our couch without any trousers on,” you say with a shrug, taking a deep breath, the way the word husband leaves your lips causes goosebumps to bloom along his skin. That’s him, he’s yours. He’s got a ring on his hand to prove it. “And I’m just feeling really lucky. Because I really love him.” 

His breath catches in his throat as he smiles over at you, the two of you just looking at each other for a moment, both a little in awe of this life of yours, this marriage. This family. 

“Even if he’s really shit at the crossword.” you say, cheeky smile on your face that only grows when he honks out a laugh. 

“Then get over here and help me,” he whines and you quickly shuffle over, placing the vase in the middle of the table before crawling on the couch over him.

It takes some rearranging but you’re squished together, you halfway on top of him, the ipad in between you as you start to go through the clues together, legs intertwined, his arm around your back, holding you close. He presses a kiss to your temple and takes a deep breath, feeling so much gratitude for this moment he may just explode.

There’s just nothing else like it, is there. Nothing like you. No place like home.

--

a/n: if youre reading this and are like bitch theyre married?! canonically, yes. i promise some writing about the wedding will be coming but its taking forever and this inspo hit me like a truck so i had to work with it. also so fun bc grapejuice always reminds me of this fic anyway w the lyric "give me something old".

hope u like it, let me know what u think. shoutout to the random girl on twitter who tweeted my username asking for more writing last summer sorry its taking so long but wow u made me feel special. i missed them!!

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 668

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

——————————————————————

I’m Not Your F*ckng Maid

-Prologue-

Dean was awoken with a slam inches from his face and he sprung to life, almost losing his balance before he realised where he was. He’d fallen asleep at the table with his face in a book and surrounded by heaps of paper - many of which he hadn’t even started to read through yet. Blinking awake and gaining his bearings, he heard a familiar voice ring through the room.

”You boys are disgusting, how do you live like this?” The older Winchester finally looked up to see Charlie lifting a plate of half eaten, day-old pizza whilst kicking several beer bottles aside so she could pull out a chair and take a seat next to Dean, who was pinching the bridge of his nose.

”Yeah well, we’ve been a little busy recently if you haven’t noticed,” his voice was gravelly from the sleep. Charlie put down the plate of old food and sat down, worry crossing her face as she looked at the man next to her. She knew they’d been under a lot of pressure lately with their work, so much so that the brothers were starting to neglect themselves. It had been months since they’d eaten proper food that wasn’t instant or take-out, they rarely went outside, always locking themselves away in the bunker to do research and the bunker itself was getting cluttered with bin bags and pizza boxes. Not to mention the piles of laundry that she’s noticed slowly starting to form its own ecosystem in the washroom.

“Yeah I get that, but you really have to look after yourselves. When was the last time you ate a vegetable?”

Dean scoffed.

“Yesterday, obviously,” he gave her a look like she was from another planet, and she rolled her eyes.

“The pizza sauce doesn’t count, Dean.”

He looked puzzled, raising an eyebrow, “Why not?”

Before she could even humour him with an answer, Sam emerged, rubbing his eyes.

“Oh hey Charlie, when did you get here?” His voice was equally as gravelly as Deans, so she assumed he’d also just woken up.

“Five minutes ago.”

“She called us disgusting Sam. And she said the sauce on pizza isn’t made from vegetables,” Dean gestured to Charlie like she was the fool as he looked up at his younger brother who now stood across from him on the other side of the table. Sam went to open his mouth to respond, but closed it again quickly and furrowed his brows, clearly unsure how to reply to his older brother without opening a can of worms. Charlie huffed.

“You guys need to sort yourself out. I only dropped by because I hadn’t heard from you for a while and thought you might’ve worked yourself to death. I can’t stay long because I’m meeting a friend for a drink. She’s already at the diner waiting for me”

“A friend?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and the redhead smirked.

“I wish, sadly she’s into dudes,” she paused, a thought crossing her mind, “Come to think of it, she’s actually looking for work, you guys might be able to help.”

Dean and Sam shared a glance.

“She’s a hunter?” Sam asked.

“Not exactly. Her uncle was, so she knows about stuff, but from what I know she was just a research girlie,” Charlie peered at the mess of papers on the table, “and it looks like you could use the help.” She looked between the brothers as they stared at each other, like they were having some sort of unspoken conversation. A few moments passed before Dean slapped his hand on the table and stood up.

“Sure ok, but we’re coming with you today to meet her,” he went to grab his jacket from the back of his chair, an eagerness in his movements before Charlie put her hand out to stop him.

“Great!” She grinned, before raising her eyebrows and pointing to them both, “but first you guys have got to shower, because I can taste your BO from here.”

——————————————————————

Up Next

Chapter 1

[pandorafairy]

Secret Cove (Part 4)

Neteyam x Metkayina (oldest daughter of Tonowari, the chief)

Neteyam is 18

Contains: Neteyam fluff, protectiveness, and angst

Warnings: mild violence and strong language

“You look tired, daughter,” my father says. The morning light streams in through our pod as he finishes his breakfast. I lightly touch my puffy under eyes. I’ve spent the past few nights in the sky on the back of Neteyam’s ikran, feeling the warmth of Neteyam’s body pushed against mine.

“I’ve been busy,” I mumble before taking a bite of my food. Tsireya sits beside me, I can feel her gaze on me. She’s suspicious, probably knows I’ve been sneaking out to see Neteyam, but she never says anything. My dad grunts and opens his mouth to say something. 

A horn blazes through the village. It’s a familiar sound, one that makes my heart leap. I jump to my feet, letting the happy sound circulate through my mind. My dad is already out of the pod and my sister looks at me with a wide smile. Dad sticks his head back in. “Come! The Tulkun have returned!”

Tsireya and I sprint out of the pod. The village is full of joyful voices as people begin diving into the water. The Tulkun burst out between the waves, their splashes gleaming. They flip and swim, hurrying happily towards our village. My spirit sister, Joala, is out there. I can’t help the grin that finds its way onto my face. 

I know I don’t deserve this happiness. I don’t deserve the Tulkun. My secrets suffocate me, Issak is a reminder of that. Of what I’ve done. But Joala told me to let it go. And she would be crushed if I didn’t see her. So I try to ignore the nagging in the back of my mind and enjoy this moment. 

Tsireya dives and swims off towards the commotion. I turn around, looking towards the Sully's pod. Neteyam. He has to meet Joala. I fight against the current of people, all going to greet the Tulkun. My feet bounce quickly along the paths until a familiar hand grips my shoulder. 

Neteyam’s eyes meet mine. “Come!” I exclaim, not even bothering to say hello. I dart towards the waves where my people are already welcoming the Tulkun. Neteyam follows me, his eyes bright with excitement. 

I don’t slow down as I reach the end of the path, diving right into the water. Voices, splashes, and chirps of the Tulkun vibrate through the ocean and warm my heart. It’s such a joyous sound. I call for an illu as Neteyam swims up beside me. 

An ilu swims up to me. I make tsaheylu before motioning for Neteyam to join me. He hurries onto the ilu and settles in behind me. His arm wraps around my waist with a small smile on his face. 

‘Ready?’ I motion with my hands. 

He nods before leaning forward and kissing my shoulder softly. Heat rushes to my face. I hope my blush isn’t obvious through the water. He’s so beautiful, the dark blue skin of his skin and the light blue of the ocean; it makes my heart swell. Joala will adore him. I tell my ilu to go forward.

We swim past other villagers, none of them pay any attention to us as we speed by. Everyone is too engaged with their own spirit sisters and brothers: sharing stories, laughing at jokes, showing new scars. There is so much love beneath the waves. It seeps through the water, into the reef, into the fish, and into all of my people. I look at Neteyam through the corner of my eye. His mouth is slightly open in awe as he observes each Tulkun we pass. 

I make a deep call from the back of my throat, telling Joala where I am. It’s silent for a moment and Neteyam’s fingers twitch with anticipation across my stomach. I call again. I sense her before I see her, the same way a child can sense their mother watching them in their sleep; I don’t need to see her to know she’s there. 

Her large body swims up from below us. I let go of the ilu and rush over to her, my heart pounding with excitement. She chirps happily as she sees me come closer. I place my hand against her strong body and lean my head against her, my face right next to her eyes. She sighs, the relaxation seems to go through her whole body. My heart contracts and releases, like it’s connecting with hers and now we are beating as one. 

‘I missed you,’ I sign with my hands. 

‘I missed you too,” Joala chitters. I place my other hand on her, feeling her breath. 

She begins to swim towards the surface. I grab hold of her fin before remembering Neteyam. I whip my head to where he floats, just a few feet away. He’s watching me with an expression I’ve never seen before. His golden eyes are wide open, the side of mouth points upward, and his ears are perked up. I motion for him to follow us. 

Joala breaks the surface, away from any other Tulkun. I keep my hands on her, soaking in our connection, and enjoying our reunion. Joala knows everything about me,  all my secrets; and loves me just the same. Neteyam appears on the surface and looks at us with a mixture of wonder and anxiousness.  

I stick my hand out to him. “Come closer.” Neteyam swims towards me, careful not to make too many waves. I slip off Joala’s fin and into the water, where she can see me as I start to sign.

‘There is someone I want you to meet.’ Joala chirps curiously. Neteyam joins me and places his hand on the small of my back. I don’t even think he realizes he’s done it, his eyes are glued on Joala. 

He dips his head before looking at Joala and signing with one hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’

The warmth from his fingers spread through my back and into my body. His touch is like a current. I watch the side of his face as he observes my spirit sister with such grace. Joala chirps hello. She’s watching me, seeing right through me, as always. I smile sheepishly at her. 

‘This is Neteyam.’ I sign. ‘He is from the forest but is now one of us.’ Neteyam smiles at this.

 ‘He is special to you.’ Joala chirps. 

I look at Neteyam to find his eyes already facing me. ‘Yes. He is special. Good, brave, kind, and strong.’ 

A tenderness spreads through his gaze before he looks at Joala. ‘She is amazing. More than I knew someone could be.’ 

His fingers rub my back in small circles. Joala chitters approvingly. A small laugh escapes my lips, not because anything is funny but because I’m so happy. The kind of happiness that bubbles inside of you and streams right out. I keep laughing as I stroke Joala’s fin and Neteyam’s hand stays on me. There is so much love in the ocean and within my people and our Tulkun. But the love I feel right now, for Neteyam and Joala. I don’t even think my heart or mind can comprehend it. 

We begin to talk about the past season, our travels, and funny gossip. I tell Joala about my training and my family. She tells us about her migration. Neteyam talks about the forest and how he misses it. Joala wants to know about how we met and how we knew we wanted to be together. We stumble through our story,telling her how it’s just the beginning, and how we know that some people don’t approve but nothing will stop us. Neteyam relaxes around her and talks freely, I’ve never seen him so open around anyone other than me. We smile, laugh, and tears prick at my eyes.

I’m so absorbed in our interaction that I don’t notice someone watching until they turn to leave. A little ways away, someone rides off angrily on an ilu. The person’s black hair streams behind them in the water. An unsettlingly chill jolts through my veins as I recognize their hair and the set of their shoulders. It’s Issak. 

~~~

Drums pound loudly. People cheer boisterously. The whole village is gathered on the beach, surrounding a large fire. My father wears his celebration beads. He stands up on a rock and the crowd goes quiet. “Our Tulkun returned to us safely!” The crowd cries with excitement. “We give thanks to Eywa for our spirit brothers and sisters. And now… we feast! We dance! We celebrate!” 

Everyone yells with elation, myself included. Tsireya beside me claps her hands. Aonung, on the other side of me, stomps his feet and hoots. Some people begin to dance around the fire while others share meals and talk about their reunions. My father jumps down from his rock. “Adults.” His voice carries above the noise. “Follow me.” 

He runs into the water, the shoreline splashing around his legs until he dives in. Suddenly, tons of Na’vi are sprinting into the ocean, the night sky makes it impossible to see them as they disappear under the dark waves. They are going to the various underwater coves to party and celebrate. Since I’m eighteen, I can technically join them, but my parents ordered me to stay on the shore and watch after the children. Normally I would have protested but Neteyam’s parents happened to give him the same order. 

Neteyam sits next to the fire, wearing his celebration beads and wooden headband. Tuk stands behind him, playing with his braids. As if he senses me watching him, he looks up. I almost turn away, embarrassed at being caught staring, but he smiles genuinely and waves for me to come over. Tuk sees him waving at me and begins calling my name. 

Tsireya giggles. “Come on, sister.” She pokes my side playfully. “We wouldn’t want to keep your man waiting.” 

“Oh hush,” I reply and poke her back. 

Aonung’s head snaps up, his eyebrows furrowed together. “What man?” He takes a bite of his food. 

Tsireya rolls her eyes at our brother’s ignorance as I laugh and shake my head. I place my arm around Tsireya’s shoulders and pull her into my side, a sudden feeling of gratitude washing over me. She wraps her arm around me in return. We don’t need to say anything, Tsireya always has a way of knowing what I’m thinking. 

We make our way over to the Sully kids, Aonung following behind us. The beach is calmer now that the adults have left. Music still plays and conversation still flows, but it’s not as loud. A few kids dance happily in front of the fire while others play games in the surf. Tsireya sighs, taking in the sight.  

Lo’ak is arguing with Kiri but he stops the second we arrive. He straightens up and clears his throat. “Hi, Tsireya.” She smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Hello to you too,” Aonung says through a mouth full of food. All of us laugh at this, Tsireya tries to hide hers. Neteyam smacks Lo’ak on his back lovingly. 

Heat rushes into Lo’ak’s face. “Hi everyone.” 

“Much better,” Aonung smirks. Tsireya flicks him before walking over to Lo’ak. Neteyam smiles at me and pats a place next to him in the sand. I join him and feel the warmth of the fire as everyone disperses. Kiri and Aonung leave to find Rotxo, Lo’ak and Tsireya slip off, and even Tuk finds a few kids to play with. 

“The celebration is great.” Neteyam’s deep voice rumbles. He leans closer to me, filling my nose with his intoxicating scent. He drops his voice to a whisper, “and we already know what's happening down there.” He points to the ocean.

I laugh, thinking about our night in the cove. I look at him, his headband brings out the uniqueness of his golden eyes. He looks at my eyes, then my cheeks, then my nose, and my chin, before settling his gaze on my lips. “I wish we were down there now,” he whispers, his voice full of yearning. My stomach flutters. 

I’m leaning forward before I even realize what I’m doing. No one is watching us… One little kiss will be fine. His lips hover right in front of mine. He places his hand on my thigh, sending a chill right through my core. His tail flicks behind him as he leans in to close the space between us. 

Someone clears their throat behind us. We fly apart faster than I thought could be possible. If it’s my dad or Jake… My heart pounds as I scramble to my feet. 

“Well, well,” Issak slurs. I suck in a gulp of air. Neteyam slowly gets to his feet, observing Issak’s stance. “If it isn’t the village's newest couple!” He yells the last part, catching the attention of a group of children playing. Dread fills my body. 

“Issak,” I say, unsure of what to do. “Have you been drinking?”

“I was at the celebration. Looking for you.” He saunters towards me, wobbling slightly. Neteyam tenses as Issak stops right in front of me. The smell of alcohol pours right off of him. “But then I remembered, you like forest boys now.” 

“You should go,” Neteyam says flatly. 

Issak lets out a forced and mechanical laugh. He sets his blues eyes on Neteyam and smirks. “You think you like her?” He shakes his head. “You don’t even know her.”

“I know enough.” 

“Do you?” Issak questions, his murderous smirk growing. He looks at me with his calculating eyes. “Did you tell him?” 

Neteyam’s head turns towards me. My feet are frozen in place. I want to scream at Issak but no sound escapes my lips. 

Issak throws his head back. “Oh this is too good.” He looks at us again, his drunken face full of anger. “She’s not the good little girl you think she is. And she definitely isn’t the chief's perfect daughter.” He sighs arrogantly. “And when she gets bored of you, she’ll come running back to me.”

Neteyam shoves Issak with his large hands. Issak stumbles back, his feet slipping in the sand, and crashes right onto his back. The wind rushes out of his lungs as Neteyam jumps on top of him. My hands cover my mouth. This is not happening. 

Neteyam holds Issak down, his knees digging into Issak’s chest. “Let’s get a few things straight,” Neteyam growls. “She is perfect.” He twists his knee deeper into Issak’s chest. Issak groans in pain. “And she isn’t running anywhere. Especially not  to you.” 

I inhale sharply. The children stopped playing and a crowd is now gathering around them. I want to stop Neteyam and yell at him for fighting, but I also want to throw my arms around him. Issak struggles beneath Neteyam’s firm grip. He turns his head to the side and spits. He lowers his voice so only Neteyam and I can hear. “She’s the reason the sky people kill Tulkun.” 

My heart drops. I feel like a million tons have been dropped onto my shoulders. I can’t breathe. Panic spreads through me as Neteyam freezes. He slowly turns his head and looks at me, his eyes full of confusion. I want to melt through the sand and disappear. I shake my head, hoping it’s all a dream.

Issak grits his teeth together. “She’s a cold-hearted bitch.” 

Neteyam whips his head around. His shoulders tense and his eyes blazing. 

“And now she gets with forest people. Guess she’s a whore and a bitch.” 

Neteyam yanks his arm back and slams his fist into the side of Issak’s face. Blood flies out of Issak’s mouth as Neteyam hits him again. I can’t move. I can’t even think. Lo’ak bursts through the crowd, Tsireya following behind him. 

“Bro, stop!” He yells. “Dad’s coming!” 

Neteyam hesitates at Lo’ak’s voice. Issak takes the opportunity to grip Neteyam’s shoulders and throw him into the ground. I cringe as Neteyam’s body slams into the hard sand. Issak jumps on top of him and punches him. Neteyam tries to kick him but Issak holds his leg down. I can’t watch this. I start moving towards them, ready to jump on top of Issak and scratch his eyes out when Tsireya places her hand on my arm. 

“Don’t sister, you’ll only make it worse.” 

The crowd of children cheer and encourage the boys to fight. I can hear Issak muttering things to Neteyam. My heart clenches in my chest. Blood trickles from Neteyam’s forehead. I push Tsireya’s hand off of me, I can’t do nothing. 

“Enough!” My father’s voice booms over the crowd. All the children go silent. Issak rolls off Neteyam. The two of them sit beside each other panting as blood streams from their cuts. I close my eyes and try to calm myself. 

“This is a celebration,” My dad says angrily. “Not a fight.”

The crowd parts as my dad makes his way through followed by my mom, Jake, and Neytiri. Word must have spread that Issak and Neteyam were fighting. Tsireya looks worriedly from my dad, to Neteyam, and then to me. 

“Children, take the celebration further down the beach.” My dad says as he stares at me. I rarely feel scared of my father but right now, fear shots through me. A few disappointed grumbles come from the kids as they turn and leave. My siblings, the Sully kids, and I all stay on the beach. 

“Again?” Jake asks, anger covering his face. Instead of hanging his head low and letting his father be angry at him, Neteyam looks right into Jake’s eyes. 

“Yes, again.” 

Surprise flashes across Jake's face. Neytiri smiles softly behind him. 

My dad holds his hand out, telling everyone to be quiet. “What has happened, now?” 

Issak wipes the blood from his mouth and stares at my dad. “I was telling our forest friends about your daughter and then he just hit me.” 

“Liar!” I yell, finally finding my voice. My heart races in my chest as Neteyam’s eyes fall on me. His expression is unreadable. I have no idea what he is thinking. 

My dad puts his head in his hands and lets out a tired and irritated sigh. “Can someone just tell me what happened, please.” 

“Out with it Neteyam,” Jake says sternly. 

The boys sit in silence. My throat is growing tighter by the second. Last time this happened, we were told we couldn’t see each other anymore. I’m not even sure Neteyam will want to be with me after what Issak said.  

“I know what happened!” Tuk calls from behind Kiri. The adults turn and look at her with surprise. Kiri’s eyes widen in alarm as Tuk marches in front of everyone. She points at Issak. “That boy called her,” she points at me, “a hmm…” Tuk puts her hand under her chin and thinks. Her eyes brighten as she remembers. “A whore and a bitch!” She says proudly. 

Neytiri gasps and pulls Tuk to her side as my mother hisses angrily. Jake looks stunned. My dad opens his mouth before closing it again. Neteyam tenses up and looks at his parents. Issak says nothing. 

My dad breathes out slowly. “Issak,” he begins. “I know things have been hard for you. When your parents return from their hunt, I will be telling them about this. Now both of you, go.” 

My mom looks at my dad in disbelief, clearly thinking his punishment should’ve been worse. But my dad never was one for grudges. Issak stands and looks at me. All of our past sits right in front of me. The secrets and the Tulkun. His rebelliousness and my mistakes. Disgust fills me and I turn away from his face. 

Neteyam studies me, watching how I cringe away from Issak. I need to explain to him. I need to tell him everything. All the things I should’ve told him sooner. 

“I thought I said you two weren't allowed to see each other,” Jake states once Issak has left. My dad nods in agreement. 

“I’m eighteen,” I say. I need to prove to Neteyam, right now, that I will not let others come between us. Not Issak or our parents. “I can be with who I want. And I want to be with Neteyam.”

Everyone looks at me, I can feel the weight of their stares but my eyes remain on Neteyam. Our gazes stay locked as he swallows. 

Lo’ak inhales. “Damn.” 

“Wait,” Aonung whispers loudly. “They actually are a thing?” 

Tsireya elbows him in the side before shushing him. My father crosses his arms, his stare burns holes in me. I force my eyes away from Neteyam and meet my father’s eyes determinedly. 

“You’ve gotten in two fights,” Jake says as he takes a step towards Neteyam. “Both of them were over her.” 

Neteyam nods slowly as he balls his hands into fists before relaxing them. I can tell by the tension in his shoulders that his mind is moving quickly. He is contemplating and thinking over everything that’s happened. My hands begin to shake nervously. Neteyam sits back on his heels and looks up at everyone. “And I would do it again.” 

Jake opens his mouth to say more but Neytiri steps forward. She places a hand on her husband’s arm and looks to my father. “They are young but they are not children. Let them be.” 

Neytiri. My heart warms as she looks at me understandingly. To my surprise, my mother chimes in. “I agree.” 

Jake turns his head to whisper to Neytiri but she shakes her head firmly. I look at Neteyam but he won’t meet my eyes now. He stares at his hands and his tail twitches anxiously. 

“Okay, enough of this. You two can do what you want. Now please, can everyone return to the festival,” My father says. He hates conflict and loves nothing more than a quick solution. And this time, I’m grateful for it. 

The Sully kids and my siblings leave, heading further down the beach to where the other children are. Jake talks with my father, using his hands to express his point as my dad nods. My mother watches them, rolling her eyes. Neytiri peers at Neteyam and notices the harshness of his shoulders. She looks at me, seeing my tortured expression. 

“Neteyam,” she calls him and he looks up. “Go get cleaned up.” She turns to me. “Go with him.”  

~~~

The Sully’s pod is filled with warm light from a small fire that Neteyam started. There isn’t a single person in the village, they are all out celebrating and the silence is startling. Neteyam stares into the fire as I sit down beside him. 

Not knowing what to say, I reach out to touch him but he dodges away from me. Nerves race through my whole body. He shakes his head. “You lied to me. You said Issak was no one.” 

He looks at me, not with anger but with hurt. Blood seeps from a cut on his forehead, shoulder, and cheek. He breathes out slowly. “I need you to tell me the truth because I don’t understand.” 

Tears fall from my eyes before I can stop them. I never meant to hurt him. I was so selfish, so stupid…

“Is what he said true?” Neteyam whispers, his voice shaking. 

“Yes.” Neteyam inhales and disbelief fills his eyes. The fire flickers beside him, casting a warm hue across his aghast face.

“How? You couldn’t…” 

“I didn’t know what to do. I was scared. And I was naive and stupid. So, so stupid.” I can’t stop my tears now, I run my fingers under my eyes to stop them from falling down my face. Neteyam says nothing as he waits for me to say more. “It was about a year ago. Issak’s parents don’t care about him, they don’t care where he goes and he resents them for it. So one day he went somewhere he shouldn’t have. And I went with him.” 

I close my eyes. I’ve never told anyone this before. I’ve just sat with it and tried to forget. “We ran into an Avatar. Not one of yours but one that belongs to sky people who roam our waters.” 

Neteyam froze but I continue on. “He was nice to us but I knew we shouldn’t talk to him. I knew it was dangerous. But Issak liked him and I liked Issak so we went back. We met with that Avatar many times. I hated it but Issak insisted. The Avatar was like a father that he never had.” I take a deep breath. I don’t look at Neteyam, I’m too scared to see his expression. 

“They talked mostly. I just sat and waited for it to be over. One day, the Avatar brought people with him. They surrounded us, punched us, and held knives to our throats. They were looking for unobtainium. I didn’t know what that was but it must have been valuable.” 

Another tear escapes from my eye. I don’t bother to wipe it this time. I let it fall down my cheek. “They were yelling and I didn’t know what to do. They started to cut Issak’s throat. The knife was cutting into him. He was bleeding.”

“They were going to kill him,” I force the words out of my mouth, feeling the weight of them. “My mind went blank and suddenly I said Tulkun. I didn’t know if they were valuable, at least not in the way that sky people find value. But I knew the Tulkun were impossible to kill so I thought it would all be okay.” 

“They let Issak go. We never spoke of it again and stopped seeing each other. Months later, we heard that Tulkun in the south were murdered. Murdered by sky people. And I knew it was all my fault.” 

As the last words leave my lips, I can’t contain myself any longer. I cry. Tears flood from my flushed face as my shoulders shake. Sobs escape my lips as I bring my hand to my mouth. I never thought I’d say those things out loud. The shame of it still haunts me, everyday. And now Neteyam knows it. He knows my darkest secret. 

Suddenly, his arms are around me. The warmth of him spreads through me as it always does. He pulls me onto his lap, pressing me against his body. I don’t even process what this means, I just collapse into him. He rubs my back and whispers soothingly to me. 

We stay like this for a while as I let my walls come down. He waits patiently. Finally, I pull away and look at him. The blood on his face is now crusted over. He tilts his head to the side before reaching out and wiping the tears off my cheek. 

“Do you think I’m awful?” I whisper.

His eyes soften. He cups my cheek with his long fingers. “I think you’ve carried a big burden for far too long.” 

“Someone has to.” 

He rubs his fingers along my face. “Let me help you carry it.” 

My mouth opens slightly. I was so scared of how he would react, but here he is: understanding, loving, sweet, my Neteyam. I don’t deserve him. I don’t think anyone in this world does. I stare at his beautiful face in awe. “You are too kind for such a burden. It is mine. I made a mistake. And I fight everyday, to be perfect for my family and village, so that one day, maybe I can make it up for it.” 

Neteyam sighs as if what I just said pains him. He brings his other hand up to my face. Both his hands cup my head, just below my ears, and his fingers spread down my neck. He stares into my eyes. “I see you.” 

I gasp softly. No one has ever said that to me before, not the way Neteyam just did. He said it with seriousness, understanding, and love. A smile finds its way onto my face. Neteyam. His name, his face, his entire being; it’s all I can think about. How he also has fought to be perfect for his father, Toruk Makto. How he left his home for a place so different. He has been through so much and he remains kind. I lean my forehead against his so our eyes are mere inches from each other.  

“I see you.” 

He grins. The smile takes over his whole face and sparks in his eyes. His ears perk up and he begins to laugh. I smile unsurely at him. “What?”

“I don’t think there is anything you could say or do that would make me stop loving you.” 

The breath rushes out of me. All I can see are his golden eyes, wide and honest. I don’t think, I just reach my hand out and pull him towards me. Our lips meet each other instantly. He kisses me softly, like he’s telling me that he loves me and understands me. I kiss him tenderly back, wanting him to know how precious he is to me. How much I adore him. 

I pull back and he studies me, his shoulders relaxed. I run a finger along his cheekbone. “I guess you’ll be stuck with me for a long time then.” 

He smirks before slipping his arms under me and pulling me close again. Our lips collide. He isn’t kissing me softly anymore. He presses his lips hard against mine like he’s trying to meld us into one being. I press myself against him, my lips moving quickly, desperately against his. He pulls back this time, panting slightly. 

“I better be.” 

I giggle and kiss him again. He sighs against my mouth as my fingers roam over his strong chest. His fingers grip my chin. His tongue brushes along the bottom of my lip, begging for entrance. I keep my mouth shut against his as I bring my hands up and tug his hair. He groans, causing me to smirk against his lips. He moves his hands from my face and slowly drags them down my neck. Goosebumps form along my skin as he continues trailing his hands down my body. 

Once again, his tongue runs along my lip. His hands trace my stomach before moving down to my legs. I open my mouth, allowing his tongue to explore. My hands run all over his body, from his hair to his arms and back, feeling his muscles move beneath his skin. I moan as his tongue glides against mine. He smiles against our kiss before pulling back. He begins kissing my neck as his hands roam up my thigh. He sucks on my skin with his lips causing me to sigh. Taking this as encouragement, he continues to suck and he squeezes my leg with his long fingers. 

Desire builds in me, heating my body. I grip the back of his head as he leaves a trail of kisses along my neck. I pull him back and kiss him roughly. Our lips collide again, this time in a desperate mess. Our tongues mix together and our hands fly across each other’s bodies. I straddle myself on top of him, our lips never breaking a part. I feel his hardness against me, causing me to moan into his mouth. 

I want him so badly it's a need. The yearning is carving into me. And by the way he twitches beneath me, and the way his fingers caress me, I know he feels the same. I dig my hand into his shoulder and he jumps back. 

“Ow!” 

I freeze. “Nete! Are you okay?”

“Yea.” He says, his voice thick. “Just a cut from earlier.” 

How could I have forgotten? The whole reason I came in here was to help with his injuries. As if reading my mind, Neteyam scoots forward and cups my face again. “It’s not a big deal, where were we?” He leans in to kiss me again. 

I place my hand on his chest, stopping him. “Let me at least get you cleaned up.” 

He groans and pulls back reluctantly. I smirk. “Good little forest boy.”

“I’m not little, ocean girl.” He leans back on his elbows and smiles arrogantly. “I think you know that.” 

My face heats as I think of straddling him. How he felt… His arrogant smile grows. “And did I hear you call me Nete?” 

I smack him. “Don’t start.”

He laughs which makes me laugh. “Turn around and let me patch you up.”

He listens and turns to face the fire. I use some of Neytiri’s cloth to pat his cuts. I clean each one, being as gentle as possible. Neteyam doesn’t hiss or complain. He just sits patiently. I clean three on his back, one on his arm, another on his cheek, before finishing with his forehead. I study his skin, the way his dark and light blue coloration mixes together. How parts of him glow in the darkness of the night. The way he looks in the firelight. I don’t think I’ll ever get over how beautiful he is. 

When I’m done, I put down Neytiri’s things and sit across from him. “You’re all good.” 

“Thanks to you.”

“It’s my fault you got in a fight in the first place.” 

He shrugs. “Probably won’t be my last.” 

I give him a pointed look. He smiles and takes my hand into his, rubbing it softly.

“Soon, when all this sky people stuff is over, I want to take you to the forest.” 

Neteyam has told me so much about the forest. The greenery, the smells, and the life. My heart swells at the fact that he wants to take me there. I squeeze his hand tightly. “I’d like to see it.” 

“There we could,” he begins, looking right into my eyes. “We could be mated properly before Eywa. If that’s something you would want.” 

I nod as my mouth breaks into a wide grin. Him and I in the trees, laying in the grass, being together. Really together. Blesses by Eywa. We could start a family, a life together. Neteyam, who knows my worst parts and wants me anyway. I could cry all over again. “Yes. I want that more than anything.”

“There are so many things we will do. We’ll see it all. Do it all. Start a family.” 

“Be more understanding parents than ours.” 

He laughs. “Yes. I want to experience everything in the world. And I want to experience it with you.” 

I can’t contain my joy; it seeps out of my heart and into the air around me. I can see our future lying before us, it’s so vibrant. “Then what are we waiting for?”

Thank you for all the support!!

Part 5 will be the final part but I am going to keep writing. Send me submissions or comment requests for other things you guys would like to read!!

As always, I love getting feedback so let me know what you think! Thanks :)

[the-californicationist]

he swims with you

You and Price had a complicated relationship. You’d been sneaking around together, secretly, for months. None of the other soldiers knew about your hidden tryst, and Price wanted to keep it that way. He didn’t want them to lose respect for either of you, so you had helped him keep it under wraps.

Lately, Sergeant MacTavish had been cozying up to you a little too much. He’d give you compliments on your sparring techniques, and he’d even let you win one every now and then, especially if it meant that he got to pin you in a compromising position on the next round. You could tell that he liked you, that much was obvious, and it drove the captain absolutely to the edge of his sanity. 

Your team had just captured the mansion of a Saudi drug dealer who had turned to selling military-grade weapons, and while you were waiting for exfil, you decided to enjoy this bastard’s million dollar pool.

When Johnny started flirting with you on the pool deck, fully within sight and earshot of Price, you decided to test the limits of that sanity a bit. You started to play along with the Scot, and you watched as Price’s face turned bright red with rage. His expression, though, remained amused and calm. Underneath, you could tell he was coming absolutely unmade.  

“Woah, Johnny, have you been working out more? Your chest looks enormous. Maybe it’s just that I haven’t seen you shirtless in a while,” you flirted as the sergeant stepped into the pool to join you. 

Ghost had his legs in the water, his pants rolled up, sitting on the edge and reading operation briefs on his datapad. Gaz was sitting on a ledge in the pool next to him, watching you and Soap swim around in the gigantic lagoon. Soap beamed at your compliment, swimming up next to you,

“Yeah, lass, I have been. Thanks for noticing. Hit three plates for five yesterday on my bench.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at his obvious preening, but you saw John’s expression and decided to double down,

“Can I feel?”

“Aye, sure,” Soap was practically buzzing from the attention and praise. 

You reached out your hand, swimming around him so his back was facing the hot tub, and you could see Price over his shoulder. You locked eyes with the captain for a moment and then lay your hand softly on McTavish’s chest,

“Wow, Sergeant. I’m impressed. You might even be strong enough to throw me across the pool!”

“Definitely am, bonnie. See?” He took the bait, grabbing you around the waist and tossing you effortlessly out of the water. 

You squealed in mid-air, trying to pretend to be helpless, and then, just as you crashed below the surface, you untied the neck of the bikini you’d found in the mansion’s bedroom, letting the fabric fall away from your breasts. As quickly as you could, you covered yourself with your arm and came back to the surface, gasping, eyes wide,

“Oh, shit! Soap, can you help me? I think I lost my top.”

Gaz and Ghost were deep in conversation, talking about something on the datapad, but Price was honed in to your charade. Soap looked over at him, a rakish grin on his face, sharing some sort of boy’s club look. He covered his mouth with his hand in mock shock and said, 

“Uh oh, Corporal. Tha’s a true predicament, that is.”

He wasn’t planning on diving to the bottom to retrieve your suit, and just when you thought you’d been backed into a corner, Price’s huge, hulking body rose up out of the hot tub, steaming and pink, and he dove into the cool water of the pool in nothing but his black boxer-briefs, his heavy cock and balls hanging in the wet fabric. He swam to the bottom of the pool like a fish, fast and precise. As he came back, he swam right up next to you, stalking you like a shark, getting himself between you and Johnny. Price had the suit in his hand and held it up,

“Turn around, Corporal,” he said, his voice rumbling in his chest. You turned toward the now-empty hot tub, held your hair out of his way with your hands, and felt him drape the triangles over your chest, waiting for you to place them in position. You did so, and felt his warm fingers knotting the string at the neck. However, the band of the suit tied in the front, so when he went to tie it, you spun back into him, your hands still in your hair. He had a smug look on his face, and as he tied a little bow in front, he dared to adjust the top, swiping a finger pad over your soft nipple, making you suck in a breath. 

“There you are,” he purred, “No harm done.” 

Based on the expression of his face, you got the sense that there would be quite a bit of harm done to you - specifically your tender backside - the moment you were back on base.